A meal fit for the Joads

I've been thinking, lately, about bacon. Thinking about it a lot. Or, I should say, somewhat more than is usual, since it's not exactly rare that I have bacon on the brain. Why the pork dreams, you ask? Well, I've been re-reading John Steinbeck's masterpiece The Grapes of Wrath, a book that sits high atop the American literary canon, peering down and perhaps sneering just a little bit at all the books stacked up below--and deservedly so. I think I first read the book in seventh grade, and it certainly made an impression on me at the time. I don't think, however, that as a child I could truly understand and empathize with the crushing plight of its central family, the Joads, nor could I really appreciate the flawlessness and innovation of Steinbeck's prose. In short, I'm glad I made the decision to pick up the book again (and you should, too!)

But I'm getting off track--let's get back to the bacon. You see, in The Grapes of Wrath, the rise and fall of the Joads' fortunes can be reliably tracked by one thing: whether or not they have "side meat" sputtering away on the stove. In one of the early scenes of the book, when prodigal son Tom returns home from prison, he finds Ma in the kitchen in a classic scene of domestic tranquility, removing "high brown biscuits" from the oven and "curling slices of pork" from the pan. The book, here, carefully constructs for us a whole, complete picture of family life that is about to be torn down, shattered, trampled and spat upon by the powers that be, or Big Business. The bacon is just one of the things that assure the Joads they are safe, at home, together. But it's a persistent image. All throughout the rest of the book, Ma, Pa, Tom and Al all bring up side meat--repeatedly. As soon as they've got some coins in their pockets or even some credit at the rapacious company stores--they're spending it on side meat. When they're all out, things are bad. But when there's some bacon frying in the pan, it's a small victory; the sound and smell of the crackling pork, and the nourishment it brings, reminding them that they are still human, that they're still a family unit.

Now, bacon doesn't hold the same resonance for me, but it sure is darn delicious. And the Joads' constant yearning for it definitely got me hungry. That's when I put down my book, put on my coat, and strolled down the street to Jubilat Provisions, a Polish-owned meat shop that bursts at the seams with a seemingly endless variety of house-made kielbasa and other sausages, as well as various types of patés, smoked and cured meats, fresh Polish baked goods and jars and cans of imported delicacies of every stripe (it's one of my favorite food stores ever. Do yourself a favor and check it out the next time you're having a BBQ). And one of the best items in the house is the thick-cut, double-smoked bacon. I picked up a little less than a pound, using it first in an Austrian potato strudel that my friend Patricia and I brought to a potluck over the weekend, then, of course, crisped up in a pan for breakfast, and when I still had some left over, I thought of the Joads. Although they're not southerners, they eat (when they can manage to) what I think of as soul food: biscuits. Pie. Warming stews. Lots of things fried up in grease in a cast-iron pan. As it happened, my mom had made Southern-Style Barbecued Pulled Pork, and had given me some of the leftovers. So I had that component down. There's not much that goes better with pulled pork than good old fashioned collards do, and that's when I figured out how to use up my bacon. Finally, I wanted something sweet and starchy, but less heavy than cornbread, something that would fry up nice in my iron pan: I found a recipe for a type of corn griddle cake and worked from there. The resulting meal that I sat down to was warm and comforting, with sweet, soft meat; melting, smokey greens; and crisp, nutty, savory corn cakes. This plate's for you, Joads.



















Traditional Southern Collard Greens
Serves 4

Ingredients:

2 large bunches collard greens, washed, with tough stems removed
4 slices of bacon, cut into a small dice
Half an onion, sliced very thinly
2 tbsp. apple cider vinegar
Salt
Pepper

Preparation:

1. In a deep, heavy-bottomed, medium-sized pot, heat the bacon over a medium flame until it starts to sizzle and render its fat, about 3 - 4 minutes. Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until it is tender and translucent.
2. Take several leaves of greens, roll them into a tight bundle, and slice them into long ribbons of medium thickness, adding them to the pot and stirring as you go. Repeat, in batches, with remaining greens. Season greens with salt and pepper, add about 1/2 cup water, and cover the pot. Drop the heat to low and cook, stirring occasionally and adding more water if necessary, until greens are very soft but not mushy, about 35 - 40 minutes.
3. When greens are done, shut off the heat and add the apple cider vinegar. Taste for seasoning and serve.


Corn Griddle Cakes
Adapted from epicurious.com
Makes 12 - 15 cakes

Ingredients:

1 cup yellow cornmeal
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. pepper
2 tsp. sugar
2 tbsp. unsalted butter, melted and cooled, plus more for brushing the griddle
1 large egg
1 cup buttermilk (or sour 1 cup milk with 1 tsp. white vinegar or lemon juice)
1 cup thawed frozen corn kernels

Preparation:

1. In a medium-sized bowl whisk together the dry ingredients (cornmeal, flour, salt, baking soda, baking powder, pepper, and sugar).
2. In a small bowl whisk together the buttermilk, egg, and melted butter.
3. Add the wet ingredients to the dry, stirring to combine (don't worry about a few lumps). Stir in the corn kernels.
4. Drop the batter into a buttered cast-iron skillet set over medium heat, dropping about 1/4 cup batter at a time. Cakes will be about 3 - 4 inches across. Cook until browned and crisp, about 3 minutes per side. Repeat with remaining batter.

*Note: these cakes can be eaten savory or sweet. They were delicious with my Southern dinner and equally so the next morning reheated with additional butter and drizzled with maple syrup.

A brief sojourn to the country

Last weekend I finally escaped New York City and headed upstate to my friend Gideon's country house. As I detailed in this post, Gideon and I like to cook together and we tend to create some really delicious things. The past weekend was no exception. We arrived late at night and got right to work the next morning, making oatmeal griddle cakes for breakfast. The recipe, which we found in the classic Joy of Cooking, is dead simple; you basically just add the usual pancake ingredients (flour, leavening, eggs) to cooked oatmeal, mix, and fry. A great use for leftover oatmeal, they made a filling, hearty breakfast that fortified us for our hike in the frigid woods:

















For dinner that night we roasted a chicken and some potatoes in exactly the same manner as I demonstrated in my recent post on roasted chicken. This one came out just as nicely:

































On the side we enjoyed a refreshing salad of green leaf lettuce, sectioned grapefruits, sliced red onions and avocados dressed with olive oil and rice wine vinegar. The lightness of the salad was a perfect counterpoint the warm, rich and salty chicken and potatoes:

















As good as that whole plate of food was, I think my favorite part of our meal was the little cooks' treat that we made at the beginning as we cleaned the chicken: chopped liver. Gideon happened to have some homemade chicken and matzoh ball soup that he had made with his grandmother, so as any good Jews would do we skimmed the top of its schmaltz (that's chicken fat, used for cooking, for you Goyim out there) and slow-cooked the one liver that came with the chicken, along with some chopped onions, in a small pan. We then seasoned it well with salt and pepper and whirred it up with some fresh parsley in a little electric chopper. Here it is spread on some olive bread and garnished with raw red onion:

















The chicken was a large one and took a while to roast in the oven. As it did, Gideon and I decided that we wanted to bake something, so we made challah bread. For a yeast bread, it's very simple to make and doesn't take too much time. Here's what it looked like after we braided it and let it rise for a second time:

















And here it is after being coated with an egg wash and baked:

















And here it is after being converted to French toast the next morning:

















Think we were done eating by that point? Well, not quite. Late on Sunday afternoon we threw together this chicken salad with parsley, tomatoes, red onion, olives, olive oil and vinegar and made to-go sandwiches to bring in the car:

















Needless to say, after polishing those off I was quite full.

Oatmeal Griddle Cakes
Serves 2-3
Adapted from Joy of Cooking

1. Sift 1 cup of all-purpose flour. Re-sift with 1 1/2 tsp. baking powder and 1/2 tsp. salt.
2. Stir together 1 1/2 c. cooked oatmeal, 1/2 c. milk, and 2 tbsp. melted butter. Add one egg, beaten, and stir to combine.
3. Stir in the dry ingredients until just combined. Fry the cakes on a heated buttered griddle or cast-iron pan, about 3-4 minutes per side. Serve with butter and maple syrup.

Challah Bread
Makes 1 loaf
Adapted from Joy of Cooking

1. In a small bowl, mix 1 packet of active dry yeast with 1/4 c. warm water and 1 1/2 tbsp. sugar. It should froth up; if it does not, discard and try again with different yeast.
2. Measure out 3/4 c. warm water and add a pinch of saffron to it.
3. Sift 3 c. flour with 1 1/2 tsp. salt into a large bowl. Create a well in the center and add 2 eggs, lightly beaten, 2 tbsp. vegetable oil, the saffron water, and the yeast mixture. Using a wooden spoon, stir until combined. The dough will be very sticky.
4. Turn the dough out onto a floured surface and knead, with floured hands, until it becomes smooth and elastic, about 10 minutes. Place the dough in a large bowl that has been oiled and turn it over so that both sides are coated. Cover and let rise in a warm place until doubled in volume, about 1 hour.
5. Punch the dough down and knead it again, briefly, on the floured surface. Create three long, ropey strands of dough and place them on a greased and floured baking sheet. Braid the strands together and tuck the ends underneath. Allow the loaf to rise again, about 1/2 to 1 hour.
6. Preheat the oven to 400°. Make an egg wash of one egg yolk beaten with a little water. Brush it all over the loaf and bake it in the 400° oven for 15 minutes, then turn the heat down to 350° and bake for another 15 minutes. The loaf is done when it is well browned and sounds hollow when tapped on the bottom. Allow it to cool before you slice it.

Snackin' with Steinberg

Earlier in the week my dear friend Gideon Steinberg asked me to come join him at his country house in the Catskills for a few days. I was grateful for the invitation, since I hadn't really been out of the city since graduating from college in late May and the heat, grime and noise were really beginning to wear on me. It was a lovely sojourn and I only wish I could have stayed longer.

Gideon is a really good cook and over the course of our friendship we've made a lot of tasty things to eat together. The past few days were no exception, and I thought I'd share some of our creations. First up is a dead simple guacamole we had as an afternoon snack after swimming in the lake: just two ripe avocadoes mashed up with minced shallot and garlic, some chopped cherry tomatoes, lime juice, salt and fresh chives:

Gideon had this amazing, locally produced whole milk ricotta cheese that was rich, creamy and ever so slightly salty. He used it to top these delicious (and rather elegant) one-bite snacks of basil and a halved cherry tomato:

The main event on Monday night was this jerk chicken from the New York Times that I've been wanting to try since the recipe was published last month. Marinated overnight and grilled over charcoal, it was deeply flavorful, tender and juicy:

We served the chicken with some brown rice and black beans that we cooked together to a porridge-like consistency and flavored with a heaping spoonful of the jerk chicken marinade that we had boiled down into a sauce:

For dessert I served up slices of my grandmother's blueberry cake topped with vanilla ice cream and a quick sauce that I made of just-picked blueberries and a little maple syrup:

And, finally, breakfast on Tuesday morning: toasted whole wheat pita wedges topped with the aforementioned ricotta and, on one side, leftover blueberry sauce; on the other, halved cherry tomatoes, olive oil and salt. Sweet and savory on one plate? Now that's my kind of meal:

100% homemade

What could be better, on a hot summer morning, than a bowl of yogurt (that you made yourself) topped generously with tangy strawberry-rhubarb compote (that you made yourself)? Not much, I'm willing to say, not much. That's precisely what I enjoyed for breakfast a few days ago:

















It's a pretty great combination: the smooth, creamy texture of the yogurt is complemented by the rough, chunky quality of the compote, and the yogurt's sourness --which can be sort of one-note --is happily interrupted by bits of the sweet, soft fruit. The best part about the whole deal? The recipe for the compote, if you can even call it that, is laughably simple and takes about 15 minutes from start to finish. Now that's my kind of breakfast.

Strawberry-Rhubarb Compote
Makes 1 1/2 cups

1. Using a damp towel, wipe clean 3 stalks of rhubarb (look for ones that are very firm and have a deep pink color). If neccessary, peel the rhubarb with your fingers--just pull back the outer, stringy layers and discard them. Chop rhubarb into 1/2" pieces.
2. Rinse 1/2 pint of strawberries, preferably the small, intensely red kind. Halve them.
3. Place all the fruit into a medium heavy-bottomed saucepan and add 1 - 2 tbsp. of water. Using a microplane or zester, zest 1/2 a lemon into the pot. Finally, add 3 - 4 tbsp. of sugar, depending on the sweetness of the fruit. Stir to combine.
4. Place the pot over medium-low heat and cook for about 8-12 minutes, stirring occasionally, until fruit is soft but still has some texture. Cool and refrigerate.

Here comes success!

That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I finally made yogurt! Back on my A game. With the aid of a thermometer, it was really easy. I realize now that the past two times I tried this, I didn't get the milk nearly hot enough--you're supposed to bring it up to 180°, which took about 20 minutes (granted, I was heating the milk over a cautiously low flame--next time I'll probably be a little more bold). In the past, I heated the milk only for about 10 minutes. So there was my mistake. Anyway after the milk gets up to temperature, you take it off the flame and let it cool to 110°. Then you mix it into a small amount of plain storebought yogurt that you've placed in a warmed glass jar, stir well and let it sit undisturbed in a warm place for 10-12 hours. This, too, was easier now that it's summer; I just left it at room temperature. When I woke up this morning, voila! Yogurt was waiting for me:

















I really enjoyed the flavor of the yogurt. It does taste different than the store-bought stuff: fresher and cleaner. The texture, too, is markedly different; the yogurt is runnier and less uniformly smooth than what you get at the store. For me, this is a good thing, as it's a reminder that there are no sweeteners, stabilizers, or other weird things (xantham gum, anyone?) in the yogurt. I'm sure it would taste even better if I had used organic or locally-bottled milk; I just got the cheap store brand. No matter; with a drizzle of maple syrup and some blueberries, the yogurt made a wholly satisfying summer breakfast:

















Homemade Yogurt
From Nourishing Traditions

1/4 cup plain yogurt
1 quart milk

Gently heat the milk to 180°, stirring often. (Use a thermometer!) Set aside and let cool to 110°. When 110°, warm up a glass jar by filling it with hot water and then dumping it out. Put the plain yogurt into the bottom of the jar, add several tablespoons of milk, and stir well. Then pour the rest of the milk into the jar, stirring well to incorporate the yogurt culture throughout. Cover loosely and keep in a warm place (wrapped in a towel, in a warm room, in an oven that has been heated and then turned off) and let rest undisturbed for 10-12 hours. Transfer to the refrigerator.

Good day sunshine

What to do when you wake up inexplicably early on a Sunday morning and can't get back to sleep? Why, make sourdough pancakes*, of course! I'm happy to report that my sourdough starter is up and running; it's not worth showing a photo, so you'll just have to take my word for it. This morning I used the starter in some pancakes. What you do is place some starter in a bowl, add some flour and some milk, essentially "feeding" it one last time, and let the mixture stand for an hour or so. Then you finish the batter by adding egg, salt, sugar and leavener, and fry the pancakes up in a skillet:

















Of course whenever you make pancakes you have to make some silly ones just for fun:

















And finally here's my portion, enjoyed on my deck in the morning sunlight (not too shabby):

















I really liked the pancakes. They were denser and less fluffy than ones I've made in the past, but had a mellow tang from the sourdough that set off the sweetness of the syrup nicely. Now that I have starter around the house, I can see these pancakes becoming a standard weekend breakfast.

Sourdough Pancakes
Adapted from How to Cook Everything
Makes 4 servings

1. In a mixing bowl, combine 1 cup sourdough starter, 1/2 cup all-purpose flour, 1/2 cup buckwheat flour, and enough milk (1/2 - 1 cup) to make a medium-thin batter. Let sit for about an hour.
2. Preheat a griddle or large skillet over medium-low heat while you finish the batter by stirring in 1/4 tsp. salt, 1 tbsp. sugar, 1 tsp. baking powder, and 1 beaten egg. Don't overmix!
3. Grease the skillet with about 1 teaspoon of butter or oil and add the batter by the heaping tablespoon. Cook until lightly browned on both sides, flipping once, about 3-5 minutes total. Serve immediately or keep warm in a 200° oven.

*Best enjoyed with coffee and the weekend edition of the Times.

Look, Ma, I baked!

Or more appropriately in this case, Look, Pa, I baked! Today is my father's 65th birthday, and I made him some currant scones to celebrate. My dad really likes to have a pastry with his morning coffee, be it a muffin or banana bread or something along those lines, and it's somewhat of a tradition that I bake him scones on his birthday. Unfortunately, I lost my favorite scone recipe, which uses lots of butter, honey and cinnamon, so earlier tonight I tried a new recipe, from The Best Recipe. True to the book's title, they came out quite well. Here they are prior to baking, brushed with an egg wash and sprinkled with sugar:

















And after having emerged from the oven, burnished and smelling wonderfully, 14 minutes later:

















Of course I needed to taste one for quality control purposes. Luckily, my dear friend Sophie came over to assist me in this onerous task. We chose to enjoy the scone with blackberry jam:

















Soft, flaky and light, these scones were not as rich as my usual recipe, but were delicious nonetheless. It was hard to stop at just one.

Sweet Milk Scones
Adapted from The Best Recipe
Makes 8 scones

1. Preheat the oven to 450°.
2. Combine 2 cups all-purpose flour, 1 tsp. cream of tartar, 1/2 tsp. baking soda, 1/2 tsp. salt, and 1 tbsp. sugar in a bowl and whisk together. Alternatively, combine the dry ingredients in a food processor and pulse until combined.
3. Add 4 tbsp. butter, chilled and cut into small pieces, to the dry ingredients. If using your hands, work the butter in as quickly as possible, until the mixture resembles coarse meal. If using the food processor, pulse until the mixture reaches this stage.
4. Add 3/4 whole milk and stir until just combined. If using the food processor, pulse just until the dough starts to pull away from the bowl. Transfer the dough to a mixing bowl.
5. Add 1/2 cup of desired flavoring, such as chopped nuts or dried fruit, and stir to incorporate. I used currants that I had reconstituted in hot water and a dash of Calvados (apple brandy).
6. On a floured work surface, roll out the dough into a square that is 1/2" thick. Cut into four squares, and cut each square into two triangles. Place the scones 1 1/2" apart on an ungreased baking sheet. Optional: brush the scones with an egg wash and sprinkle with sugar.
7. Bake the scones for 10-15 minutes or until they are lightly browned. They're best enjoyed hot!

The bread of affliction

It's Passover, at least for another day or two. I've been meaning to make some Passover food for the blog for the past week, but didn't get around to it until today. Although I don't keep kosher for Passover, I have a lot of affection for many Passover dishes. When I lived at home, my family and I would always go to seder at my cousins' house in New Jersey, and we ate very well: chicken-matzoh ball soup; tender long-cooked brisket; sweet and sour meatballs; various vegetable kugels; and, best of all, the desserts. Oh, the desserts! Light-as-a-feather sponge cake, sweet and lemony and towering high over everything else on the table; dense, chewy vanilla meringues studded with bittersweet chocolate chips; flourless chocolate cake heavy with ground hazelnuts.

And then, of course, there's matzoh. It's not very good, and it's not supposed to be--eating it is supposed to remind us Jews of our flight through the desert all those thousands of years ago. I always think it's funny when people say how much they like matzoh, because those people are never Jewish. If you had to eat the stuff growing up, it pretty much loses its novelty.

That said, there are certainly lots of applications for matzoh that I think are delicious. It's hard to argue with a matzoh spread thickly with salted butter, for instance. I like it piled high with haroset, an apple-walnut chutney that's a traditional component of the seder plate. And my very favorite matzoh recipe is matzoh brei. Matzoh brei is, very basically, a kosher for Passover version of French toast. You break up the matzoh and soak it in beaten egg, then fry it up in a pan and eat it either sweet (with honey, maple syrup, jam, or cinnamon sugar) or savory (with butter and salt). It's simple, homey, and satisfying--and with coffee, it's the perfect breakfast. In fact, that's what I just finished eating. Here's how I made it (serves one):

First, break up two matzohs into bite-size pieces. Place them in a colander and run water over them for 10-15 seconds, until they're moistened:

Next, beat an egg in a bowl and add the matzoh. Mix it well and let sit for about 5 minutes, so the matzoh soaks up the egg:

In the meantime, heat up a small pan and grease it generously with butter. Add the matzoh mixture and press it into the pan. Cook over medium-low heat for about 6-8 minutes, flipping once, until the "pancake" is browned on both sides:

If you're a savory kind of person, eat the matzoh brei with more butter and some salt. If you're like me, though, you'll want to enjoy it with jam:

Breakfast is served.

P.S. Here's an excellent article on the merits of sweet vs. savory matzoh brei from the New York Times.

A wholesome snack

As I sat in my living room this morning, eating breakfast and pondering whether to do the responsible thing and go to class or give in to the more tempting option of sitting in the sun and enjoying the beautiful spring day, I tuned in to one of my favorite cooking shows, the Barefoot Contessa. The Contessa (also known as Ina Garten) was doing something she does often on her show: cooking for her beloved (and honestly adorable) husband, Jeffrey. This time, Ina was making Jeffrey breakfast. Though she joked around by saying that she would be serving dry toast and coffee, she in fact produced a lavish spread of mini brioche loaves, homemade strawberry jam, peach bellinis, and parfaits of yogurt, fresh fruit and granola. Enter my inspiration. The granola looked so tasty and easy, and I realized that I had never before made it--though I couldn't imagine why.

Fast forward to the evening. Walking back from dinner, I stopped at the on-campus grocery and made my way home armed with rolled oats, shredded coconut, slivered almonds and honey, the ingredients which I would utilize (along with dried fruit and some cinnamon) in my take on Ina's granola. Here's the mixture pre-baking, already looking mighty appetizing:

















20 minutes later, a toasty, golden brown and heavenly-smelling medley emerged from the oven. I added some chopped dried cherries and golden raisins to the granola, let it cool, and stored it away in a glass jar:

















Given how fast and easy it was to make this granola (and how wonderfully its honeyed aroma perfumed the house as it baked), I felt sorry that I had never done it before. And I urge you to make your own granola, too. Even though you can buy a million varieties of it at the store that feature exciting ingredients like chocolate and dried mango and the like, this homemade version tastes more honest, simple, down-home. That's probably because the list of ingredients comes to a grand total of eight items, whereas commercial granola is chock-full of additives and sweeteners. I prefer this version, and I think my friends agree with me: when they came over to watch Top Chef earlier tonight, they greedily spooned up the dessert of granola-topped vanilla ice cream that I presented:

















How indulgent! And speaking of indulgence, you might be wondering whether I gave into it this morning, as well. I can't really answer that--but let's just say my skin's a bit more tan than it was yesterday.

Cinnamon-Almond Granola
Adapted from the Barefoot Contessa

4 cups rolled oats
2 cups slivered almonds
1 cup sweetened shredded coconut
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/3 cup honey
1/2 cup vegetable oil
3/4 cup dried cherries, chopped
3/4 cup golden raisins

1. Preheat the oven to 325°.
2. In a large bowl, stir together the oats, almonds, coconut, and cinnamon. Add the oil and honey and mix well, making sure the mixture is well-coated.
3. Spread the mixture evenly on a baking sheet (you'll probably need to use more than one) and bake for 20-25 minutes, stirring occasionally. The granola is done when it is dark golden brown and fragrant. After removing it from the oven, allow the granola to cool completely, stirring it occasionally.
4. When granola is cool, added the dried fruit and store in an airtight container (it will keep for about a month--if it lasts that long).

Breakfast