Toast

Sicilian Gold Part I

At a long gone restaurant on the Southside, where I first had a proper risotto, I was once served a wonderful house-baked bread. It was crusty, it was golden, it was studded with sesame seeds. It was a perfect companion to a saucy ragout. Reading The Unplugged Kitchen, I saw the Viana La Place recipe for semolina bread, and it sparked my memory.

Rummaging around my bookshelves and the internet, I found some conflicting opinions. I thought I'd try a plain round loaf first, and maybe then move on to the nifty traditional Sicilian shapes and/or a batard. Unhulled sesame seeds sounded wonderful, but I didn't want to wait until I found some, so I thought I'd start with my supply of sesame seeds ordinaire. I then tackled the flour issue.

After consulting a number of opinions and authorities, there is still a good deal of confusion in my mind about the right flour to use when making a Sicilian-style semolina bread. The two possibilities are durum flour and semolina flour. Both are milled from a special hard, glutinous wheat, seemingly the same kind-possibly different parts of that wheat. Both are used in pasta making.

Generally, semolina is milled more coarsely than durum. This would seem to be because it is more difficult to mill finely. Nonetheless, there is a special, silky, finely milled semolina flour which is used in Sicily to make this bread. It is apparently not available elsewhere. Viana La Place and Carol Field both recommend using a Golden Durum flour, as the best substitute.

I have not found Golden Durum flour either, in town or on the web, under that name, or by that description. The durum flour I saw at the Pennsylvania Macaroni Company in the Strip was not at all golden-it was ivory. Further, the semolina flour did not look all that coarse. Golden was, for me, an important feature. Sooo...guess what I bought? The Mss. La Place and Field had suggested that if nice durum flour was not available, it would be cool to powder the semolina flour with the plain flour in their (nearly identical) recipes. This could be done, they both said, bit by bit in a blender. All are agreed that coarse semolina flour, untweaked, will not make bread.

As I do not have a blender (except for my beloved immersion model, which is unsuitable), and as I my food processor is recently deceased, I actually performed this feat in my fine little coffee grinder. Truth be told, it was neither difficult nor time consuming. I'm still not sure it was necessary, though. The semolina flour looked pretty fine to begin with-though not silky, I admit. I may try a bread without the coffee grinder step, just to see.

When it came time to put my lone round bread in the oven, I could not resist docking it, somewhat in the traditional manner. (The traditional docked shape is, however, a half-moon, rather than a circle-per Ms. Field's drawings (and also, if I recall correctly, some sketches in a Mary Taylor Simiti book.)

Some time after I took the bread out of the oven, I set to work to make a dessert cake, for my friends who were coming to dinner. I hauled out my all purpose flour again, from the giant snap-top plastic bin where all my flour bags live, stacked. The bag on top (and hence, the bag I had just used for this bread) was not, as I had intended, King Arthur Unbleached All-purpose Flour, but rather, their White Whole Wheat Flour. Whoops.

It was okay, though. The bread was delicious, and long lasting too. It was good fresh with shrimp chowder for supper, and I was still toasting it (it's really good toasted)-three days later. The texture is quite close grained and more cake-like than my usually favorite chewy country-style breads, but still toothsome and unmushy. The taste is great, with all sorts of wheaty flavors.The sesame seeds are delish on top-I used lots. Next time I'm going to use less yeast, and let it rise longer- this loaf blew up really fast, which is not usually, IMHO, the best thing for flavor. Further experiments to follow.

Here is the recipe I used this time, adapted from Carol Field and Viana La Place:

dry yeast (instant-not quick rising) 2 1/2 tsps
lukewarm water 1 1/2 cups
Extra Virgin olive Oil 1 tbsp
fine semolina flour 2 cups
King Arthur white whole wheat flour 1 1/2 cups
sea salt 2 tsps
1/3 cup sesame seeds

Process flours and sea salt together in small batches in food processor or coffee grinder, until fine and maybe also- silky. Dissolve yeast in warm water in large bowl of stand mixer. Add flour and oil to bowl, and combine with paddle attachment. Cover and let rest 20 minutes. Change to dough hook and knead 5 or 6 minutes, until dough is smooth and elastic. Place dough on lightly greased bowl, and cover with plastic wrap. Let rise until doubled- 1 hour at most!

Shape dough into a round, and cover. I did this by placing it in my floured reed banneton, and covering it with a transparent shower cap I keep for this eccentric purpose. Let rise again until doubled, preheating the oven (containing tiles or a baking stone) to 425F. Turn risen bread out onto a bread peel or the back of a cookie sheet which has been covered in baking parchment.

Paint the surface of the loaf lightly with water, using a pastry brush.Sprinkle seeds over surface, and press them in very gently. If you wish to shape the bread as I did, just slice the edge, every few inches, as pictured. Slide the bread (and parchment) onto the stone, and close oven door. Open oven and toss in a few ice cubes, for a bit of steam.

After 10 minutes, open oven, slide parchment out from under the bread, and turn down to 400F. Cook an additional 45 minutes or so, or until it sounds hollow when you rap on the bottom. Cool on rack.

Note: After baking my bread, I was noodling around some more, and found this in a section of The Artisan, which gathered everything I found previously on the topic, and more, in one place. The Artisan is new to me; if it is new to you, too, you might want to check it out.

Addendum: Made a second loaf, identically, except used King Arthur All-purpose Flour, and did not pregrind the semolina flour. An entirely different texture- chewier, with holes, less dense and cornbread like-more like a country french texture, love it- the same delicious taste-nicer texture. This one blew up even faster, though. Next time-less yeast, longer rising. Funny-the loaves were the same size, yet the 2nd loaf was airier. Still substantial though- and it tastes great! I need to find out the brand of flour PA Mac is selling-as they rebag into 5lbs from larger amounts, and don't label brands. Will report further developments.

Hot, Sweet Spaghetti

I have been enjoying , on the recommendation of the chocolate lady, a book called The Unplugged Kitchen by Viana La Place.You might like to read it, too. I will not go on about it, except to say that I don't think you have to share her style of cooking or approach to food to feel refreshed and invigorated by it. This simple and surprising pasta recipe comes from that book.

Pretty much every cook I know likes to make a plain pasta recipe sometimes, when he or she is very tired and/or cranky, and does not wish to fuss. When you are worn out and hungry, but a bit out of sorts, of course you do not want to be fixing something elaborate and demanding. You might not want to eat such a thing, even if someone else made it for you. You certainly don't want to clean up and do a million dishes after you eat. The thought of it is enough to kill your appetitie, even though it is considerable, since you haven't had any real food nearly all day, damn it. If you eat something junky because it is easy, in your delicate state, it will make you want to hurl.

Even though you do not want to fuss, the simpler routines of cooking are soothing. You can unwind while setting out a few basic ingredients, chopping a bit , boiling some water, and simmering a few aromatic goodies in a pan. A cloth napkin, a fork, and pasta decanted into a shallow, individual bowl are a righteous reward, with only one pan and bowl and fork to clean, and a pasta pot to rinse when you are done. A glass or wine, or a glass of water, depending on your mood, and you are on your way to realignment-or to bed.

I have most often served these purposes with a garlic, lemon, pepper, parmesan sort of thing, which is very nice and serviceable. This equally simple recipe is going to take over that function for a bit. It is delicious, easy, especially hunger-satisying, and restorative...I think the ginger has a lot to do with that part. Follow the advice of its creator, and do not be tempted to gussy it up, or the balance will be spoiled. You will be glad, when eat it, that you resisted the temptation to grate parmesan all over it.

Viana La Place's Hot, Sweet Spaghetti

serves 2 for main course supper

Extra virgin olive oil 2 tbsps
garlic cloves, peeled and finely minced 2
red pepper flakes 1/4tsp
peeled, finely julienned fresh ginger 2 tbsps
canned whole organic tomatoes (or home canned tomatoes) and juice 1 1/2 cups
sea salt
dried imported spaghetti 1/2 lb
fresh basil leaves, chiffonade 10 leaves or so
freshly ground or pounded black pepper to taste

Put olive oil, garlic and red pepper in a heavy saute pan over a low heat. Put a pasta pot full of water on to boil. Stir oil over low heat 3 minutes. Add ginger and stir one minute. Add tomatoes, crushing with a big spoon. Add salt to taste. turn off heat, and wait for water in pasta pot to boil. Add salt and pasta to pot. Bring tomato mixture to a simmer and cook for about 10 minutes, or until pasta is done to your degree of toothsomeness. Drain pasta, and dump drained pasta into sauce. Add fresh basil and toss with tongs or 2 spoons. Divide into 2 shallow individual bowls, and serve, with fresh pepper grated over each bowl.

You can almost feel it flowing through your veins to your fingertips, purely hot and sweet.

Buffaloed

Like many other people, I find that it is more difficult to appreciate unfamiliar red meats than other novel (to me) foods. I feel quite lucky to have been exposed to a pretty wide variety of food in general as a kid- my mother was an interested cook and both parents adventurous eaters. I am not squeamish, and happily eat many parts of the cow, sheep,and pig others scorn.

This red meat thing was brought home to me some years ago, when I surprised myself by not liking venison. Given a venison flank steak-I marinated it pretty thoroughly, grilled it, and sliced it thinly against the grain. My husband and not-yet-vegetarian child scarfed it up. I tried to like it-it was tender and juicy, and I swear I could even tell that the flavor was good, but my stomach said "No, we aren't going to be eating that. It is meat and it is weird. Why don't we just have some more of that wild rice, missy?"

I was therefore surprised, and pleased to discover that my stomach and I love buffalo meat. Probably this is because it is so very like beef. Similar, but IMHO, better. I have heard it described (I forget where) as like beef, but cleaner and sort of sweeter tasing, and that's about right. It has not been widely available in my immediate vicinity. I live in a provincial city-it is probably old hat in more cosmopolitan venues. Up until recently, there's only been ground buffalo, in packets at the Iggle.

This ground buffalo has entirely replaced beef as favorite burger material in my world. Simply the best, but there's really not a lot more to say on the topic, as far as I'm concerned. I am longing for something akin to a chuck roast, or short ribs, so I can try braising it. It is not available locally though, and ordering by mail and shipping it is very costly.

However, I was quite pleased to discover , this week, some small chunks of "Buffalo Steak" at the Iggle. I was encouraged to try Buffalo Chili. This chili is adapted from the Smithsonian Cookbook of Native American foods and recipes, Foods of the Americas, which I have out from the library at the moment. Since the authors credit Jeremiah Tower with this recipe, it seems unlikely that it is a traditional native American dish of great age. It does use companionable American ingredients, and who cares anyway; as long as it is good?

I liked the touch of bitterness imparted by the finely chopped lemons and limes, which make it unlike any other chili I have had. I certainly do not think that there is anything remotely wrong with regular old chili-which I probably, on the whole, prefer. I do not see that this different sort of preparation is particularly more suited to buffalo than it would be to beef or pork. In fact, if I had it to do over again, I'd have made a more usual sort of chili, to see if it was notably different with buffalo. You have probably already had buffalo a million times. If you haven't, though, I would suggest a simply seasoned grilled burger or steak to start with, so you can see what you think of its very own, untweaked taste.

Buffalo Chili

cayenne a pinch
paprika 1/2 tsp
poblano. ground 1 1/2 tbsp or other relatively mild chili
bay leaf 1
ground cumin 1 tbsp
dried oregano 2 tsps
oil 2 tbsps
buffalo 2 lb ground, plus 1 lb cut in teeny cubes
bacon snipped into squares 2 slices
onion, minced 1 small
garlic 8 cloves, minced
lemon, with rind, seeded and minced tiny as you can 1/4 lemon
lime, treated as above 1/4 lime
stock 3 cups
masa harina 3 tbsps, or a white corn tortilla, crumbled, or substitute finely ground cornmeal
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Combine all ingredients through and including oregano in a small cast iron skillet. Toast for 3-5 minutes, stirring with a wooden spoon, being careful not to let it burn. Heat the oil in a heavy saucepan, and brown the buffalo slowly, and thoroughly, for 10 minutes or more. Add bacon, onion and garlic, and continue to cook, stirring for about 5 minutes. Add toasted spices, lemon and lime, and cook 5 more minutes. Keep stirring; you must watch it to make sure it doesn't burn. Add 2 cups of stock, bring to a boil, and reduce to simmer. Cover and cook on low heat 40 minutes or so. Whisk masa harina into remaining cup of stock, and then whisk that thoroughly into chili. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer about 40 more minutes. Serve warm,with corn bread, tortillas or with some corn dumplings.
Chopped cilantro is very nice on top.

Some people like dumplings, others complain they are stodgy. I like the occasional tasty bit of stodge myself, now and again,especially floating in rich gravy. It never occured to me to try dumplings in chili, but these seem to suit. As the weather warms up, they may become a less appealing addition. If you are going to make the corn dumplings, you drop them, by scant tablespoons, into the chili, 40 minutes before it is done, and keep the lid on without peeking until the very end. If you are going to make the dumplings, you probably don't need the masa harina, as they have a sort of thickening effect on the gravy.

Corn Dumplings

2 ears of fresh corn, scraped off the cob, or 2 cups frozen white corn, defrosted
all purpose flour, unbleached 1 cup
cornmeal 1 tbsp
baking powder 2 tsps
salt 1 1/4 tsp
unsalted room temperature butter 1/4 cup
milk 1 or 2 tbsps

Mash corn kernels thoroughly with a fork, or better yet, a potato masher. Combine dry ingredients in a bowl. Cut in butter. Add corn and mix. Add enough milk to make a stiff batter. Proceed as above.

I am still hoping to be able to try a braising cut of buffalo sometime soon.

Roaming buffalo query: When the song says "and the skies were not cloudy all day", do you suppose it means that all day long, it was sunny, or that the cloudiness didn't last the entire day? When I was a kid, this was something I wondered about. I felt it should have been made clear. I expect I was sometimes a nuisance.

Recipes adapted from: Fernando and Marlene Divina in Foods of the Americas: Native Recipes and Traditions, who in turn adapted it from Jeremiah Tower

Chermoula-A Fish Story

I don't post about fish very often. I adore fish and shellfish, but am inclined to make it simply- broiled, baked, or pan fried, with a little lemon juice and butter. Oysters raw, shrimp steamed or grilled in their shells, a whole broiled sea bream. There is so often not much to say about fixing it, I love to just let the taste shine through. A few boiled new potatoes on the side, and a hand full of something green, and I'm more than content.

More often than not, I order fish when I eat out, especially as restaurants seem to get fresh fish of kinds I can't often buy. I loved the mixed fish and shellfish fries of Andalucia, but I'm not at all inclined to fry fish at home. I am quite happy to have fried fish and chips out, or to take it home ready made, but there's nothing I'd like better than a plain broiled skate wing with butter and capers.

Recently, however, I have made the acquaintance of the Moroccan sauce/marinade called chermoula, and I have been enjoying preparing various sorts of fish with this embellishment ever since. I am no doubt a late comer to this party, as there seem to be quite a few recipes around, on the internet and elsewhere. I'm glad I finally got here. This is a keeper. I'm sure I will be making fish with chermoula years from now. This kind of head-over-heels love-at-first-bite doesn't happen to me all that often.

Though quite distinctive and spicy, chermoula seems to enhance, rather than mask the taste of many varied kinds of fish. I am particularly fond of the idea, which I got from the most recent Gourmet cookbook, of baked fish in chermoula atop a bed of braised fennel. I'll bet this sauce would be dandy over a whole small fried trout, but I'll leave that to the restaurant chefs. Frying is messy and stinky enough. Call me lazy; I just don't want to be cleaning up fish scented hot oil splats in my kitchen.

There are a number of recipes for chermoula, and they are not terribly different. Happily, it can be made with ingredients from the average urban supermarket-no anxious hunting for rarities required. Coriander, cilantro, pepper, paprika, saffron, red pepper flakes, parsley, and lemon or preserved lemon-nothing extraordinary, but unique as it comes together, and blissfully perfect with fish.This is the mix I'm currently using, and the recipe with fennel from which it comes. In the variant pictured, I used sea bass, which is pretty expensive stuff -a splurge for me. Any other beautiful fresh fish would be dandy, though different. I have yet to meet a fish that didn't like chermoula.

Requesting Your Counsel

I am mourning the demise of my ancient Cuisinart, passed along to me by my mother, long ago. It is now, without question, defunct. Like the Monte Python parrot, "it is no more." It sat for many years out on the counter, where it faithfully made pastry, grated potatoes for latkes, and ground almonds, among other tasks. It was a fine old workhorse, and I can't afford to replace it at the moment, so I will be making do with a chinois (yeah, I actually have one-it was a gift, okay?), extra wonderful coffee grinder, immersion blender, big old stone Thai mortar and pestle and, of course, my adored British Racing Green Kitchenaid...reigning queen of the kitchen. I am not exactly without Stuff, as you see.

After I shrouded my old processor carefully in bags and bubble wrap, and plonked it in the apartment bin, I returned to admire, scrub and rearrange my slighty less crowded counter. My kitchen is cluttered looking always, as everything I use often is more or less out-appliances on the counter, pots hanging, groceries and preserves on pantry shelves. It will be nice to have a touch less clutter for a while, and see how I do.

My question and request is the following: How should I replace this gallant machine, when and if I get the extra funds? Should I get some sort of processor attachment for the Kitchenaid, or another food processor? Which one? If I get a Kitchenaid attachment, it will be kept in the cupboard with the others, saving counter space. Or maybe I should just go with my Luddite instincts and get a really good foodmill? Which? (The chinois is too slow for most pureeing tasks-and I don't have a stand for it- so it makes my arms ache-it's very big.)

I would be grateful for your thoughts and experiences on this question.

Lavosh! and...

The name of this crispy flatbread brings to (my addled) mind a magician whisking away a scarf to reveal a not entirely unexpected bunny . It is sort of a combination of "whoosh" and "voila!" I'm tempted to cry, "Lavosh!" when setting it out. Fortunately, my friends are pretty tolerant.

Neither magic nor trickery is required to produce this take on the traditional Armenian giant cracker. All you need are a few basic ingredients probably on hand, and the Nick Malgieri recipe from the recent A Baker's Tour. Lavosh is sometimes dampened and rolled around fillings to create the currently popular "wraps." Mr. Malgieri prefers the crispy version, and I like it too.

I thought I would make some to have with my Ispanakhi Pkhali (hereinafter "I.P."-it's hard keeping all those consonants straight). The Lavosh is Armenian in origin and the I.P. is Georgian, but they seem to me to be perfect for one another. According to both Julianne Margvelashvili and Anya von Bremzen, I.P. is one of a number of single vegetable pates or dips, each having its own characteristic seasoning and garnishes, but all conveniently made with the same spiced walnut/garlic base. At a traditional Georgian party, additional pates would have been set out, feauring eggplant, beets, or some other veg.

My I.P. is a combination and adaptation of both of theirs. It should probably not be made entirely in a food processor, though the paste is best done in one. As to the rest, I used the grinder attachment to my kitchenaid, having read that the original was done with a meat grinder. Fine hand chopping of the veg is also an option. but I'd try the food processor anyway, if I was short on time and/or grinderless. You are going for an even texture, but not too, too fine, or a total paste. Pulse the processor, I think, with the spinach, if you use one.

Ispanakhi Pkhali
spinach 1 lb, washed
walnuts, chopped 3/8 cup
garlic 1 large clove
dried coriander (or khemeli suneli) 1/2 tsp
small onion chopped 1
chopped cilantro 1/4 cup
salt and vinegar to taste
hungarian paprika 1/4tsp

Cook spinach until leaves are just wilted. Drain, cool, and squeeze out as much water as you can. In a food processor or coffee grinder, grind walnuts, garlic and dried coriander to a paste. Run the spinach, cilantro, and onion through a meat grinder, or chop very, very finely. Combine with walnut paste in a bowl with your fingertips, mixing thoroughly and adding salt, vinegar and paprika to taste. cover bowl and leave at room temperature for 1 to 2 hours, then store in fridge. When ready to serve, form into a thick pancake shape on a small plate. Score crosswise, with a knife. Garnish with pomegranite seeds, if you have some. (I didn't, but wouldn't it be pretty?)

Note: It is very important to leave this at room temperature for an hour or two after mixing. This is necessary for the taming of the raw garlic , and the melding of flavors. Keeps several days in fridge.

I am a fan of crispy breads and crackers, and there are a great many store-bought crackers and crisp flatbreads I like, but this lavosh is sooo easy to make, and I think it is superior to most of them. It is not that it is unusual. Rather, it is the plain, perfect freshness of the floury saltiness which is so nice. It makes me think that even pretty fresh store-bought crackers are a bit old. Around here,at least, bakeries do not sell freshly baked crackers. A big plus for cracker lovers, is that the cook gets to munch on warmish bits, while shattering the baked sheets . This is wonderful stuff cooled, but warm-even better.

Lavosh
unbleached all purpose flour 3 1/4 cups
salt 1 1/2 tsps
water-very warm 1 cup
dry yeast 2 1/2 tspolive oil 1/4 cup
sugar 1 tsp

Stir the flour and salt together in the bowl of your stand mixer. Dissolve the yeast in the water, and whisk in the rest of the ingredients. Add the wet ingredients to the dry, an stir in until all is moistened and shaggy. Put the bowl on the mixer, and knead with the dough hook for 2 minutes. Cover and let rest for 10 minutes, then mix 2 more minutes. Put in an oiled bowl. flip the dough to coat the other side with oil, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise until double-about an hour.

Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 350F, and line 3 cookie pans with parchment or silpats.

Divide risen dough into 3 parts, and roll each out on a floured surface, as thin as you can, to about the size of rthe pans. Transfer to the baking pans, and with scissors, trim off the edges, where it will be thicker. Poke the surfaces all over with a fork, and bake each about 20 minutes until golden and crisp. Cool, and break sheets into largish irregular shards. Keep in a covered container. If they lose crispiness, you can reheat a few minutes to crisp them up.

In addition to being delicious with middle eastern dips and spreads, these make dynamite aberrant nachos. You can scatter bits of cheese -such as my current favorite for this- a crumbly cheddar with mustard seeds, all over a few of these big crackers, then broil, or even nuke them-a good, if weird lunch with fruit for dessert.

I'm thinking about trying to make some other crackery breads in the future- good with salads, or eggs, and stews with lots of juices, too. They pack pretty well for lunches.

I.P. is based on recipes from Margavelashvili's The Classic Cuisine of Soviet Georgia, and von Bremzen's Please to the Table. Lavosh is from Malgieri's A Baker's Tour..

"A Strange and Fragrant Smell From Far Away"

According to Julianne Margvelashvili, author, in 1991, of The Classic Cuisine of Soviet Georgia, "utskho suneli" means "a strange and fragrant smell from far away." It is an herb, rather than a spice, and an important ingredient in Khmeli Suneli. Khmeli Suneli, literally,"a mixture of dried smells",is a Georgian blend of herbs and spices which figures prominantly in the cooking of the region. The blend varies quite a bit from family to family. It contains coriander, dried powdered marigold petals, utskho suneli, and a number of other herbs and/or spices, sometimes including allspice, dill, mint, or cinnamon.

Ms. M (a Canadian living part of the year in Georgia) bought her Khmeli Suneli from her favorite "spice lady" in the market near her Georgian home. She spent a considerable amount of time and energy, assisted by Marian Burros, of the NYTimes, tracking down the illusive utskho suneli. It turns out that it is trigonella cerulea, or "European Blue White", and is cultivated for food almost nowhere else. The leaves are dried, and crushed into a fragrant green powder. Experimentation revealed that powdered feungreek leaves, or petals, were a close match and an "available" substitute.

This is what happens to me when I take funny looking cookbooks out of the library. I just wanted to know what this flavor was like. But I wanted to know badly. The first thing I found out was that not only are powdered fenugreek leaves/petals pretty sparsely "available", but powdered marigold is not exactly all over the supermarket shelves either. It is less available than powdered fenugreek petals. In fact, it is less common even than culinary quality rosebuds, if you were wondering. (Don't ask.)

I had pretty well given up when, noodling around the internet, I found a little outfit selling Khmeli Suneli (and other spice mixes) on ebay, but also through its own website. They "masterfully prepare" other herb and spice blends too , and package their concoctions in rather touchingly decorated little boxes, as you see. Concerned with freshness, they have hand written expiry dates on the interior ziplock bags. These folks are called Chumley and Stella and their khemli suneli contains mint, fenugreek leaves, marigold petals and "spices." Like the Georgian market ladies, they are coy about their exact mix.

Anyhow, it arrived promptly and smelled very good, so I decided to give it a try in this chicken stew. This recipe is a sort of Georgian cacciatore, adapted from the library book. It is called "Chakokhbili". If you would like to make some too, this is what I used- or you could try making your own khmeli suneli, if you live near a well stocked herb shop of the exotic sort. I live near a Penzey's, but they don't do powdered marigold.

In addition to a tablespoon of khmeli suneli, you will need:
1 small chicken, cut up*
butter 2 tbsps
medium onions chopped fine 2
chicken stock 1 cup
potatoes, peeled and cubed 4 large
tomatoes, peeled and seeded (canned okay) 6
hungarian paprika 1 tsp
garlic 2 cloves
bayleaf
salt
finely chopped fresh parsley 2 tbsps
finely chopped fresh coriander 2 tbsps
finely chopped fresh basil 2 tbsp

Melt the butter in a heavy skillet and brown the chicken on both sides. Remove to a 3-4 qt flameproof casserole. Add onions to skillet and cook until just golden. Add to chicken. Deglaze pan with chicken stock, and pour over chicken. Add remaining ingredients, except for the fresh herbs, bring to a boil. Turn down to a simmer, cover and cook til chicken is almost done and tender. Add 1/2 fresh herbs,and cook 10 minutes more. Decant into deep bowls with the juices , sprinkle with the rest of the fresh herbs, and maybe tuck in some toasted flatbreads to dunk.

I liked the distinctive khmeli suneli flavor very much. It is not a strange taste; it seemed rather familiar in a way, even. Stewed chicken is not usually my favorite, texture-wise, but I enjoyed this. I think I liked it in large part, because of the potatoes, which gave the combination some body, partially breaking down and thickening the juices. And the second day, like so many braised and stewed dishes, it was far more delicious; the flavors were intensified and blended nicely.

There's a recipe in this book for a kind of spinach/ walnut dip or pate calld ispanakhi pkhali, which also appears in a slightly different form in Please To The Table, Anya von Bremzen's excellent compendium of Russian recipes. I'm planning on making some of that, and some flatbread to scoop it up with. Stay tuned, as they used to say when the Box had antennae on top.

Of course if you notice seeds for the european blue white in a catalogue somewhere, you'll let me know, won't you?

*According to my library book, a Georgian cook is judged in part on his or her ability to neatly cut a chicken into more parts than you would think possible. I divided the back and breast sections in half. This would not impress a Georgian, but the pieces were pretty small, in my view, totalling 12. Wing tips were frozen for stock.

Addendum: There it is, the european blue-white, a clover and a fenugreek relative- photo added! I also have a few tiny seedlings sprouted, in a pot on my porch. I think I'll plant a few pot marigold seeds as well, and see if anything comes of them.

Marie-Charlotte's Scrambled Eggs and Dandelions

If you have not read When French Women Cook, by Madeleine Kamman, I commend it to you. Originally published in 1976, this book was reprinted by Ten Speed Press in 2002. Ms. Kamman draws vivid portraits of eight French women, from eight regions of France, who influenced her and her cooking. One of the women profiled in this lovely book, Marie-Charlotte, was Madeleine Kamman's great grandmother. Marie-Charlotte lived in Paris, but longed for her country home of Poitou. The young Madeleine spent quite a bit of time with her in the 1930's.

Marie Charlotte combed the markets for the foods of her loved home, and whenever she could she hopped a train back to visit and supplied herself with regional ingredients. She recreated her kitchen of home in her Parisian flat, filled with crocks of salt pork, preserves, and ripening fruit. She had a knack for la Cuisine de Misere, defined by M.K. as "making something from nothing."(!) On a Sunday afternoon, the old woman and the little girl would often take a train to Nanterre, where they could pick dandelions to bring back to the kitchen.

When I saw some nice looking dandelions at the market, I thought I'd try Marie Charlotte's Scrambled Eggs and Dandelions-one last addition to Something Out of Nothing. As this is a very simple dish, I think it is particularly important to use the best ingredients you can manage. This is how I made it (slightly adapted). This amount will feed 2 to 3 people.

dandelion leaves, blanched and finely chopped 1/4 lb
unsalted butter (I used plugra) 1/4 cup
bacon, cooked crisp and crumbled 2 slices
salt
freshly ground black pepper
nice fresh free range eggs 6
heavy cream 3 fluid oz

good bread, nicely toasted and cut in triangles-I used pita

Suggestion: If you have a nonstick pan, use it. I do not generally favor the nonstick pan, and do a lot of my cooking in well-seasoned cast iron. However, I do keep one large flattish pan with a nonstick finish for intractibly sticky things. This stuff even tried to stick to the nonstick. I had to soak it. Be warned.

Heat 1 tbsp of the butter, and cook the greens until they begin to exude their juices, and continue to cook until quite nearly dry. Mix with the bacon and set aside. Clean pan. Beat the eggs with the salt, pepper and cream. Heat the remaining butter, and cook the eggs over a low heat, quite slowly, until they are half done. Add the greens and bacon, and continue to cook until the eggs are done, but still quite moist, and everything is heated through. Serve over the toast points.

I cooked the eggs very slowly, which is not exactly required in MK's original. However, I was entirely converted to the slow scrambling of eggs, when I tried it after reading about this method in The Wednesday Chef. They are so purely delicious this way. I can't believe I didn't know how to make scrambled eggs properly til now. And yes, I did stir them clockwise. I was luckily warned off trying to make my slow scrambled eggs in a cast iron pan, based on Luisa's experience with her eggs.

I had this for what I thought was a pretty elegant supper, with herbal tea, followed by a really outstanding pear. I think these eggs would also make a nice starter, spooned onto some bruschetta. I'm very taken with the dandelion flavor. The book has another dandelion recipe, also from Marie Charlotte, for a cream of dandelion soup. I may have to go back for more dandelion greens.

Rushing the Pie: Pre-season Strawberry Rhubarb

Well, I don't live in California, and I have a way to go before the local fruit is ready. I've been pretty good about this all winter...it's not usually that hard. I don't like supermarket strawberries anyway, and there have been plenty of pears, and gorgeous citrus to placate me. I have my preserves from last summer; they are not totally gone yet. But I also have lovely, snowy lard I rendered for my rilettes project, and I've been wanting to try a butter-lard piecrust. I have a birthday pie to make for a friend.

I just didn't feel like making another pumpkin pie or a custardy one. And much as I love a lemon tart-I make them all the time, and wasn't in the mood. So I went to the store and bought some strawberries and rhubarb. Rationalization: The potato-y qualities of the steroidal supermarket berries are mitigated by cooking, and the store-bought rhubarb is just fine, usually.

I made the crust from 2 cups of flour ,a pinch of salt, 3 quarters of a stick of butter, and an equal amount of lard. I processed these in the cuisinart, in bursts, until it looked mealy. I added icewater in a stream, while it was running, just until it clumped-into the fridge to chill for just over an hour, before rolling out. (Have I mentioned recently how I love my little bargain basement pastry marble? It is amazing how much easier rolling out pastry can be.)

The filling was made of one pound each of strawberries and rhubarb, cut in chunks, 1/4 cup sugar, 1/4 "brownulated" sugar, a generous sprinkling of cornstarch, and a tsp of cinnamon. I took shuna's advice and just gave the rhubarb a sponge bath before cutting. I did not want it to go watery, and so did not wash it after cutting. I glazed the top crust with beaten egg-yolk for color and shine.

The pie baked for 20 minutes at 400F, and took over an hour after that at 350F to finish and get golden. The fissure you see occured when I stuck my thumb in some scalding overflowed juices, and plonked the pyrex pie pan back down hard. I now have an unsightly bandage on my thumb, as I cannot find any bandaids of the correct size and shape to protect my free-form abstract-expressionist blister. Sigh.

Pie Analysis/Wrap-up

The verdict on the crust: Best texture of all pie crusts made to date. Thin, tender, flaky. Taste is very good, not as wonderful in this department as all butter crust, however. All aspects considered, though, this is my favorite of all piecrusts I've made-especially for a 2 crust pie (vs. open tart). Definitely will not go to all lard-I need some of that buttery flavor.

Verdict on the pie as a whole: Very good. Much less runny than prior rhubarb pies-cooked for a long time, but rhubarb kept some shape. Thank you, shuna. No more washing cut up rhubarb for me. Not a lot of strawberry taste, but it was yummy because the rhubarb was very good. However, with rhubarb, a second, firmer fruit is needed to give the pie body. Next time I make this, if there are no real strawberries, I am going to use pears instead, and ginger instead of cinnamon.

"Preserved" Pears, Rabbit, and the Best Sauce

As a kid, I was an avid reader of the Laura Ingalls Wilder books, and as an adult, I'm still impressed (although I am not so sure that "Pa" was the paragon I thought him then). These books are wonderful for their incredibly detailed depiction of daily existence among the prairie homesteaders in the period just after the civil war.

I find this kind of history of material life endlessly fascinating. You could make a rawhide door hinge or smoke meat, based on the accounts in these stories. There has been some debate about whether they were written by Mrs. Wilder, or as some have guessed, at least in part by her daughter Rose Wilder Lane, a journalist. I choose to believe the former, having checked out Ms. Lane's writings, and found them quite different. In any case, the books contain some of the most mouth-watering descriptions of food ever. The pioneer Ingalls family was often truly hungry. Indeed one winter they very nearly starved. "Ma" was a skilled cook, who made food for her family out of next to nothing, and they thought it was delicious, and that they were very lucky to be eating it.

In By the Shores of Silver Lake, the five Ingalls shared the single jack rabbit that "Pa" shot, with their friend the Boasts, who had appeared in the Christmas blizzard at their snowed in cabin. Bread, onions, mashed potatoes , gravy and a precious saved jar of dill pickles spread this meal to serve them all. A hoarded can of peaches in syrup was divided into seven parts, and set by each plate in the Ingall's best glass bowls. It was all followed by a rare and wonderful apple pie.

"The house was full of the good smells of roasting meat,hot breads, and coffee...Before Pa,the big platter, lay the huge roasted rabbit, with piles of bread-and-onion stuffing steaming around it. From a dish on one side stood up a mound of mashed potatoes, and on the other side stood a bowl of rich, brown gravy. There were plates of hot johnny cake and small hot biscuits. There was a dish of cucumber pickles...

'Seems to me this is the best rabbit I ever tasted,' said Mr. Boast.

'Hunger is the best sauce,' Ma replied modestly."

Laura Ingalls Wilder's descriptions of this meal and many others vividly evoke both the very real and extreme hunger she experienced and her pleasure in Ma's lovingly prepared food. Much of the actual food they ate would seem very heavy now. There was a lot of fat -especially salt pork, and flour, with fresh salads and vegetables added only in the few months when they could be grown on their claim. Sometimes they had a cow, and thus butter , milk, and even cheese. There was fresh meat only when the hunting was good, or when they had managed to raise, and just slaughtered, a pig. With the endless and physical work they all did, they were probably better able to metabolize this leaden diet than we would be.

In any event, when I acquired some rabbit at Wholey's, my thoughts turned to bistro type recipes for rabbit in a mustard sauce, and I went looking for a frenchified recipe, instead of some salt pork to drape over it, ala Ma Ingalls. But my conviction that I was going to enjoy some well prepared rabbit (I'd never had rabbit before) came straight from Mrs. Wilder. Though the Ingalls' situation was often dire, they made the most and best of what they had, prepared it with care and respect for the ingredients, feasted when they could, and shared the pleasure with their friends.

In the end, I found a recipe in The Cooking of Southwest France (my newest cookbook and already a favorite) for rabbit in a mustard sauce, to be served with pears cooked with ginger. This rabbit dish is not all that different from a number of similar and no doubt excellent recipes for rabbit in a mustard sauce. It is finished with cream,eggs and nutmeg and sprinkled with chives. It is certainly not the food of deprivation. The accompanying "preserved" pears are a clever compliment.

I thought the whole thing was really delicious, and tasted special. But wasn't until I reached for my own little glass bowls to serve the pears that I realized why the syrupy fruit and rabbit combination had so appealed to me. And it was food for feasting. We mopped up the juices with plenty of crusty bread.

This is how you make the pears, as adapted from Paula Wolfert, inspired by a recipe from Lucien Vanel.

Preserved Pears (make up to, but no more than 8 hrs ahead. Don't refrigerate.*)

fresh ginger, grated 2 tbsps
sugar 1/4 cup
dry white wine 3/4 cup
chicken stock 1 cup
pears 1 1/2lbs- peeled, halved and cored
1 tbsp unsalted butter
lemon juice 3 tbsps

Preheat oven to 350F. Combine ginger, sugar, wine. Boil to reduce to 3 tbsps. Add stock, and boil. Butter a baking dish and set the pears in it, cut sides down. Sprinkle with lemon juice, and pour syrup over. Bake 45 minutes, bastingfrom time to time. When golden and glazed, remove from oven, to serve with the rabbit.

*I don't actually understand in what way these are "preserved" as they last all of 8 hrs. max. But PW is right about most things, so I won't second guess her.

While I was in the middle of writing this post, I read this by the chocolate lady, also recalling LIW on food and related matters! Go have a look.