Someone is Killing the Great Consultants from Brooklyn

This year we consumed four Thanksgiving dinners. This is my husband's* account of dinner #3 hosted by another one of the most fabulous home cooks we know. Recipe below. The New York Gazette

Someone Is Killing the Great Consultants from Brooklyn

Brooklyn, NY -- Nov 28 – Two famous restaurant consultants were found in their car here last night in a complete daze. Rushed to Methodist Hospital nearby, they were diagnosed as having overdosed on L-tryptophan along with uncontrollable surges of melatonin.

The couple, whose heads were flopping about like Stevie Wonder dolls, reported that earlier that evening they had consumed large quantities of an extraordinary turkey cooked by the master himself – a seasoned amateur named Geoffrey Weill of North Bergen, NJ. According to the couple, from various accounts pieced together by the hospital’s staff, they were lured to New Jersey with the promise of a modest Thanksgiving dinner, only to be assaulted by an array of irresistible comestibles, their will to resist greatly compromised by champagne being poured down their empty stomachs.

Medical experts says that this condition frequently is induced during the Thanksgiving period with intent to do harm, although the couple, whose names were withheld pending notice of next of kin, appeared to be unscathed. There still was money in their pockets and credit cards unused.

Law enforcement officials said that no specific law was broken since the couple was not harmed but that they were exploring the legal implications of being seduced to cross state lines with malicious intent.

A Methodist Hospital spokesperson reported, shortly before midnight, that the couple would recover. However, in their delirium they talked about a mystical cranberry relish with pomegranate syrup; a stuffing so wonderful that it must have possessed ingredients that were medically antagonistic to human genes, and some superlative orangey-yellowish vegetable whose name they could not recall.

Calls to the home of Mr. Weill went unanswered and his whereabouts were not immediately known. He and his wife were described by neighbors as ordinary sort of people with a reputation for staging fabulous dinners. No one recalled anyone in their neighborhood ever falling prey to foul play after dining with the Weills. Checks of credit card usage at nearby supermarkets revealed that Mr. Weill had indeed purchased a turkey at Pathmark earlier in the week, this turkey being larger than any 24 people could safely consumer, and observers say that based on car counts there were no more than a dozen adults in the house that evening.

A turkey carcass was discovered in the couple’s car, suggesting to police that they had been given the promiscuous remains of that turkey and that they had consumed, perhaps with the urging of their hosts, all the remaining meat since only the bones were left as evidence.

My Once-A-Year Turkey Broth 2 tablespoons olive oil 3 cups finely chopped onions 1 large meaty turkey carcass 4 chopped tomatoes 2 bay leaves 6 cups, more or less, leftover roasted or raw vegetables 4 cloves garlic

Heat oil in a very large pot. Add onions and cook over high heat, stirring often, for 15 minutes until dark brown. Crack turkey carcass in half and put in the pot. Add remaining ingredients and water to cover by 1 inch. Bring to a boil, lower heat and add 1 tablespoon salt. Simmer for 2 to 3 hours. Strain soup into clean pot and reduce until desired flavor is reached. Makes about 2 quarts

* My husband Michael Whiteman (baumwhiteman.com) is an international restaurant consultant who (with partner Joe Baum) created the Rainbow Room and Windows on the World.

Homemade Jams and Jellies

Writing about making homemade butter and cream cheese in yesterday's post made my mouth water for the jams and jellies to accompany them. I have never learned how to properly "can or preserve" (although my sister-in-law loaned me a book about such things) and I don't own a candy thermometer, which can be crucial for proper jam-making.  However, I have found various ways around this lack of knowledge with credible, and in some cases, unusual results!  One of my favorite recipes is for a jammy confection called Carrot Marmalade.  An old Egyptian boyfriend of mine taught me how to make it. "In Egypt," he said, "jams made from carrots, dates, figs, even beets were commonplace."  How divine they are with grilled pita bread, salty feta cheese and strong mint tea. And there are few things that I like better than fishing out chunks of hidden fruit suspended in the ruby murk of strawberry jam.  I had one of the best versions of this jam almost 30 years ago and I helped start a company called American Spoon (Foods) based on that experience.  Along with graphic artist icon, Milton Glaser, we named the company and got the first jars on the shelves of trendsetting New York food stores.  I have no idea what that product tastes like now, but I am grateful for that taste-memory.  Recently my dear friend Anu Duggal, who studied cooking with the venerated teacher Anne Willan, showed me the "french way" of jam-making -- with results a close second to the one I remembered so fondly.  Again, no thermometer, just a keen eye for the proper "jell" in the pot and on the plate you put in the freezer for-a-moment to test the consistency.  It also helps if the strawberries you use are ripe and highly perfumed.  They were.  We bought them at the local farmers market up the street in Park Slope, Brooklyn at the height of strawberry season.

But the most delightful recipe of all is one I invented for kids in my book called Kids Cook 1-2-3.  It is called the Grapiest Grape Jelly.  Made with purple grape juice, honey and unflavored gelatin, it is the wobbliest, fruitiest, most delicious jelly you'll ever eat!

Baguette, anyone?

Egyptian Carrot Marmalade (adapted from Radically Simple) I adore this.  Serve as you would any marmalade.  It's delicious with butter, cream cheese (see yesterday's blog), and goat cheese, too.

1 pound carrots, peeled 2 cups sugar grated zest and juice of 1 large lemon 1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom

Cut the carrots into 1-inch pieces.  Pulse in a food processor until coarsely ground (about 1/8-inch pieces).  You will have about 3 cups.  Put the carrots in a large saucepan.  Add the sugar, lemon zest, 3 tablespoons lemon juice, the cardamom and a large pinch of salt.  Bring to a rapid boil.  Stir and boil 1 minute.  Reduce the heat to low and simmer about 1 hour, stirring frequently.  To test if it's ready, put 1 tablespoon of the mixture on a small plate.  Put in the freezer 1 minute.  If it becomes firm and doesn't flow, it's done (it will still look quite liquid in the pot).  Let cool, cover and refrigerate up to several weeks.  Makes about 2 cups

The Grapiest Grape Jelly (adapted from Kids Cook 1-2-3) 2 cups purple grape juice 2 tablespoons honey 1 packet unflavored gelatin

Put the juice in a medium saucepan.  Stir in the honey and bring to a boil.  Lower the heat to medium and sprinkle the gelatin powder over the juice. Using a small wire whisk, stir the gelatin into the juice until it dissolves.  Make sure there are no lumps.  Continue to cook and whisk for 3 minutes. Remove from the heat pour the liquid into an 8-x-8 inch square glass pan.  Let cool.  Refrigerate for 3 hours, or until very firm.  Scrape up the jelly with a spoon and put into a jar.  Keep refrigerated.  Makes about 1-3/4 cups

Homemade Butter & Cream Cheese

There are several ingredients, butter and cream cheese are two of them, that are so ubiquitous that we would never consider making them from scratch. These, like ketchup and mustard, are the prime materie -- the primary materials -- that inform daily cooking.  But how edifying it is to watch a cup of heavy cream solidify into something to spread on bread!  Cream cheese, on the other hand, is more passively derived by "drip evaporation" -- where sour cream sits in a coffee filter for hours, emitting extraneous liquid, to become a delicious fresh cheese firm enough to cut with a knife.   It is, in fact, the same method that turns yogurt into labneh, a voluptuous thick yogurt not unlike the Greek yogurts on the market today.  Who knew? But first, the butter.  Two years ago when I wrote EAT FRESH FOOD: Awesome Recipes for Teen Chefs, I was interested in exploring how certain foods came to be the way they are--to help kids (and myself) understand the origin and alchemy of turning one product into another.  It turns out to be easy and fascinating to produce butter at home.  All you need is heavy cream and salt...and a sturdy electric mixer.  You beat and beat the cream and after a while the solids separate from the whey (the milky liquid), leaving you with a ball of pale butter.  The flavor develops as it sits and it can be used right away (talk about immediate gratification!) or left in the refrigerator for up to 1 week -- allowing the taste and color to deepen.  The cream is beaten on high speed for 7 minutes at which time it begins to thicken and become smooth.  Then it will change suddenly and separate into small solids; a few seconds later a ball of butter will appear.  It might be fun to take your camcorder and document the process!  One cup of heavy cream will make approximately 1/2 cup of butter.

And it was fun to figure out how to make cream cheese.  Trial and error and a large leftover container of sour cream lead to the serendipitous result.  I have made my own labneh from yogurt for years by letting it sit in a large coffee filter placed in a plastic cone -- just like you were making coffee.  The idea is to let all the residual liquid drain from the yogurt.  Sometimes I let it get so thick that I could roll the resultant "yogurt cheese" into balls and then suspend them in olive oil and spices -- just like they do in Israel. This recipe for cream cheese is quite similar and hardly needs instructions.  Simply put 1 cup of sour cream in a coffee filter or in a paper-towel lined sieve.  Place over a measuring cup or bowl to catch the liquid.  Drain overnight in the refrigerator; the mixture will be very thick.  Add salt to taste.  One cup sour cream makes approximately 3/4 cup of cream cheese. Yum.  The taste is cleaner and fresher than the stuff you buy and very satisfying to do.   Here today, a smear tomorrow.  Enjoy!

Homemade Butter 1 cup heavy cream large pinch salt

Put the cream in the bowl of an electric mixer.  Let sit 15 minutes to warm up.  Use a bowl guard or wrap the bowl and top of the mixer in plastic wrap to prevent cream from splattering everywhere.  Beat on high speed for 7 minutes until the solids separate into small pieces and the milky liquid is extruded.  A few seconds later, a ball of butter with form.  Drain off the liquid and press down on the butter to release any remaining liquid.  Mush it around with a large spoon to "knead" it.  Add a large pinch of salt and stir.  Put the butter in a small crock or ramekin.  Cover and refrigerate up to 1 week.  Makes 1/2 cup

Homemade Cream Cheese 1 cup sour cream large pinch salt

Put a large paper coffee filter in a large coffee filter cone or mesh sieve and place over a bowl to catch the liquid.  Refrigerate overnight until very thick.  Discard liquid.  Turn out cream cheese; it will be very thick.  Add salt to taste.  Makes 3/4 cup

Turkey Paella!

Not so long ago, I was the entertaining columnist for Bon Appetit magazine and wrote a monthly feature for almost five years called Entertaining Made Easy. Sometimes I used to laugh and say "Who's kidding who?  Entertaining is never easy!"  But I've devoted much of my professional life trying to make it so! One year, I was asked to create an entire dinner from Thanksgiving leftovers.  I remember loving working on that story.  The challenges involved in spinning traditionally American flavors into something fresh, new and global were especially fun.  What emerged from the overabundance of stuffing, turkey parts, overcooked vegetables, random leeks, the last dregs of wine, and a quivering block of jellied cranberry sauce was "Span-Ital" (ha, I just made that up!) -- a menu featuring Stuffing Stuffed Mushrooms, Marinated Vegetables a la Grecque, an honest Turkey Paella, and a credible Cranberry Granita (which the brilliant food critic Gael Greene recently posted on her site).

We enjoy this menu so much that if we are invited to someone else's house and we have no leftovers of our own, I make an entire Thanksgiving meal in order to have some.  For they are as meaningful as the day itself.

Stuffing Stuffed Mushrooms

2 packed cups leftover stuffing ¼ cup finely chopped flat parsley ¼ cup finely chopped basil ¼ cup minced scallions, white and green parts 2 ounces provolone, grated on medium holes of box grater olive oil for drizzling 18 medium portobello mushrooms

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Crumble cold stuffing into a bowl.  Add parsley, basil, scallions, all but ¼ cup grated cheese and mix well.  Add salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste.  If mixture seems dry, add a little olive oil and mix. Wipe mushrooms clean with a damp cloth.  Remove stems.  Using a small spoon scoop out center of caps.  Fill each cap with stuffing.  Place mushrooms on a rimmed baking sheet.  Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle each mushroom with a little of the remaining cheese.  Bake 12 minutes until stuffing is a little crisp.  Serve hot, warm or room temperature.  Serves 6

A Turkey Paella

¼ cup olive oil 1 large clove garlic, finely chopped 2 heaping cups finely diced onion 1 large red bell pepper 2 cups long-grain rice ¼ teaspoon saffron 4 cups chicken broth or turkey stock 4 large plum tomatoes, cut into large pieces 1 teaspoon oregano scant ½ teaspoon cayenne ¾ pound smoked chorizo or cooked sweet or hot Italian sausage 1-1/2 pounds cooked turkey (I use 1 pound white meat and ½ pound dark) 1 cup frozen peas, thawed

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Heat oil in a 6-1/2-quart Dutch oven. Cook garlic and onions in oil for 8 minutes over medium-high heat until soft and golden, stirring often. Cut red pepper into ¼ inch dice to get 1 heaping cup and add to onions. Cook 3 minutes, stirring constantly. Stir in rice, saffron, stock, tomatoes, 1 teaspoon salt, oregano and cayenne.  Bring to a boil.  Lower heat to medium.  Cover pot and cook 15 to 18 minutes, until rice is just tender. Slice chorizo or sausage into ¼-inch thick rounds. Add to pot.  Cut turkey into pieces that are about 2 inches long and 1 inch wide.  Add to pot.  Add peas and stir well.  Cover and bake 20 minutes until hot.  Remove from oven.  Let sit 5 minutes. Stir and serve.  Serves 6 or more

*To make turkey stock:  Break up turkey carcass from cooked turkey and put in a 7-quart pot with cover.  Add 3 bay leaves and very large head garlic, cut in half through the equator.  Bring to a boil.  Lower heat to medium and cook, uncovered, 1 hour and 30 minutes.  Pour broth through a coarse-mesh sieve into a clean pot.  Cook broth over medium heat until reduced to 4 cups.  Add salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste.  Makes 4 cups

At our home, we now add "leftovers" to our list of things to be thankful for.

It's 6 a.m. Do You Know Where Your Turkey Is?

If you are the host of today's festivities you are, no doubt, up early to start cooking your turkey.  If you are me, however, you are at a good friends home in Maryland, with a cafe filtre in hand, sitting alone in a dark kitchen, dying to share a few last minute ideas with any takers.  As promised yesterday on Twitter and Facebook, here follows a recipe for roasted root vegetables that I recently starting serving as a Thanksgiving hors d'oeuvres. Radically simple to prepare, these veggies are surprisingly delicious at room temperature and satisfy many gustatory issues on this rather peculiar eating day.  First, they can be made early in the morning (and drizzled with good olive oil and a splash of fresh lemon juice just before serving.)  Second, they fulfill the commandment to respect any vegetarians coming to visit. Third, they are inexpensive.  Fourth, they don't compete for oven time later in the day.  Fifth, they look dramatic on a large platter.  Sixth, they don't fill you up in the way that cheese logs and artichoke-spinach dip often do.  Seventh, the pecan gremolata is addictive.  And last, but not least, they taste good with Prosecco, apple cider or...Scotch!

Equally compelling is my gently spiced Sweet Potato Gratin.  It looks a lot like a birthday cake and can be transported (and reheated) easily in the cake pan in which it's baked.  Intriguingly spiced, it taunts your taste buds with nary a marshmallow in sight.

Happy Thanksgiving.  I'm going back to bed.

Roasted Root Vegetables with Pecan Gremolata If you don't love turnips, you may substitute an equal amount of butternut squash or rutabagas, peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces.

1 pound carrots 1 pound parsnips 1 pound turnips, butternut squash or rutabaga 1-1/4 pounds Brussels sprouts 4 tablespoons olive oil, plus more for drizzling 3/4 cup pecans 1/4 cup finely chopped parsley 1/4 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano 2 large lemons 1 small clove garlic

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.  Peel the carrots, parsnips and turnips.  Cut the carrots and parsnips in half lengthwise and then in half across the width.  Peel the turnips (butternut squash or rutabaga) into 1-inch wedges or chunks.  Trim bottoms of Brussels sprouts and cut in half lengthwise.  Place the vegetables in a large bowl and toss with 3 tablespoons olive oil.  Put vegetables on large rimmed baking sheet.  Sprinkle with salt and pepper.  Roast 45 minutes, tossing several time during baking.  Roast 10 to 20 minutes longer until tender.  Transfer to a large platter.  Make gremolata;  Put pecans in food processor and pulse until finely ground (like bulgur wheat). Transfer to a bowl and stir in Parmesan and parsley.  Grate the rind of both lemons and add to pecans.  Stir in 1 tablespoon lemon juice and 1 tablespoon olive oil.  Push garlic through a press and add to mixture.  Add a pinch of salt, if needed.  Scatter on top of vegetables.  When ready to serve, drizzle with more olive oil and the juice of 1 lemon.  Serves 8

Spiced Sweet Potato Gratin This can be made up to 8 hours in advance and reheated in a 400 degree oven for 15 minutes.  You will need a 9 or 10-inch removable-bottom springform pan.

7 large sweet potatoes, 3-1/2 to 4 pounds 1-1/2 cups sour cream 12 ounces extra-sharp white cheddar, shredded 1 tablespoon curry powder 1 tablespoon ground cumin 3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon 3/4 teaspoon ground ginger

Put sweet potatoes in a large pot with water to cover.  Bring to a rapid boil and boil 20 minutes until potatoes are just tender when pierced with a small knife.  Be careful not to overcook as they need to be sliced.  Drain in a colander under cold water.  Slice potatoes 1/4-inch thick and pat dry with paper towels.  Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line the bottom of the springform pan with a round of foil.  Line the bottom with a layer of sweet potato slices (about 2-1/3 potatoes per layer.)  Fill in any spaces with potato pieces.  Press down lightly to make a thick layer.  Spread 1/2 cup sour cream over potatoes to cover completely.  Mix spices in small bowl; sprinkle with 1/3 of the spice mixture.  Sprinkle evenly with 1/3 of the cheese.  Repeat process, making 2 more layers, ending with cheese on top.  Place pan on rimmed baking sheet; bake 35-40 minutes until top is golden and bubbly.  Remove from oven.  Serve while hot or reheat later.  Cut into wedges.  Serves 10 to 12

A Radical Way to Make Turkey

This is radical: A deconstructed holiday bird featuring white and dark meat that roasts in just 1-1/4 hours!  The flesh stays ultra-moist and flavorful because of its overnight immersion in wine and brine.  Smaller, flatter pieces allow faster browning and less cooking time.  It is perfumed with bay leaves, fresh or dried, and a bit of aromatic oregano which imparts a revelatory herb-y aroma, the sine qua non of Thanksgiving smells.  This is the perfect bird for those who:  have only one oven; have no more than eight friends; who love to try new techniques; and for those who like to break with tradition.  It is also a recipe for those who like to give themselves a break!  There is little fussing or guess work in determining how the white meat will stay juicy and the dark meat thoroughly cooked.  You begin with a total of 8 pounds of raw turkey (breasts and thighs only) which will amply fill your large turkey platter. Another bonus?  There is little last-minute carving to do.

So begin the process today.  Select your turkey parts at the butcher or grocery.  Before you go to bed, submerge the turkey in a very large pot (make sure it fits in your fridge) filled with wine-and-brine (see below).  Cover and refrigerate overnight.  This new technique will ensure a good night's sleep and liberate both you, and your oven, on the big day. You might want to serve this year's turkey with Marilyn Monroe's recently-revealed stuffing recipe, my spiced cranberry chutney, Joan Hamburg's amazing Ritz Cracker Stuffing (see The Food Maven's website), or the world's simplest sweet potato puree accented with orange and fresh ginger (sssshhhh....it's fat free).

And...if you're interested in trying something new, have the following ingredients in your kitchen tomorrow morning: 4 pounds sweet potatoes, large container sour cream, large chunk of extra-sharp white cheddar, curry powder, ground cumin, cinnamon and ginger and stay tuned!

Wined-and-Brined Turkey with Bay Leaves 2 cups dry white wine 2 large turkey breast halves, about 2-1/2 pounds each 2 very large turkey thighs, about 1-1/2 pounds each 16 fresh or dried bay leaves 6 tablespoons olive oil 1 large clove garlic 2 tablespoons best-quality dried oregano leaves

Combine the wine, 6 cups water, and 1/2 cup kosher salt in a very large pot.  Submerge the turkey pieces.  Cover and refrigerate overnight.  Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.  Position a rack in the middle of the oven.  Remove the turkey from the brine; pat dry.  Scatter the bay leaves in a large shallow roasting pan.  Place the turkey on top.  Combine the oil and garlic pushed through a press in a cup.  Rub the garlic oil into the turkey.   Sprinkle with the oregano, salt, and pepper.  Roast the turkey, skin side up for 45 minutes.  Turn the pieces over and roast 35 minutes longer, until cooked through.  Transfer the turkey, skin side up, to a cutting board.  Pour 1 cup boiling water into the pan, scraping up the browned bits; strain through a sieve.  Carve the turkey and serve with the pan juices.  Serves 8

Turnips in the Morning

I was gifted last night with two specimens that looked a lot like large shrunken heads.  One weighed a little more than two pounds, the other closer to three -- similar to the weight of a human brain.  But these were no ordinary gifts.  They had a unique provenance, discovered in a sleepy Vermont town in the early 1900's. My friend, pleased as punch to plunge these offerings into my arms, informed me with a Cheshire grin, that I was the proud recipient of two bona fide Gilfeather Turnips celebrated by yearly festivals, commemorated in poetry, and one of only two vegetables registered on the list of heirloom varieties in Vermont.  The tuber in question is large and egg-shaped with crannies and crevices and a rough outer covering.  (It is easily peeled with a vegetable peeler.)  It was "discovered" by the bachelor John Gilfeather in Wadsboro, Vermont whose population could fit into the dining room of Tao on a quiet night (pop. under 900).  The fairweathered Gilfeather (say that three times fast!) was cunning:  he cut off the tops and the roots from his turnips so that his variety could not be reproduced.  Nonetheless it has survived his demise and has achieved culinary status as a member of Slow Food's Ark of Taste.  But when it comes to the art of taste, the unusual, sweet root has demonstrated great versatility and finesse. At 6:35 a.m. (instead of sticking my finger in yesterday's carrot cake), I cut the smaller 2 pound turnip into large chunks and laid them out on a rimmed baking sheet. I coated them lightly with olive oil and liberally sprinkled them with kosher salt.  In a preheated 400 degree oven, I roasted them for 20 minutes, turned them over and continued cooking them for another 20 minutes.   They were dark golden brown and delicious.  But the roasting concentrated the natural sugars and were a bit too sweet.  A little more salt?  Didn't quite do it.  But then I sprinkled on just a few drops of rice vinegar and oh boy, was that fabulous!  It made the turnip taste a bit like Jerusalem artichokes.  Also delicious was the addition of fresh thyme leaves from my window box.  Fresh rosemary was also a felicitous match.

In sum, the real allure of the Gilfeather Turnip is its sweetness and interesting texture.  The early Vermont frosts increase the root's dulcet tones.  This turnip attracts attention because it does not behave like a turnip, nor look like a turnip.  It looks like a big knob of celery root (celeriac), whose mouthfeel is more similar to a rutabaga, but with notes of horseradish and sugar.   It is used in soup making, in souffles and casseroles, in turnip bread, and vegetable "cakes."  It is also mashed with potatoes. The coupling of potatoes and turnips (regular white turnips) is a recipe known as alabaster.  It is the ultimate three-ingredient dish and you might consider it for Thanksgiving.   If you are lucky enough to snag a Gilfeather Turnip however, simply roast them as above.  They are delicious hot, at room temperature, and quite interesting in the morning.

Alabaster (Turnip and Potato Puree) This is creamy and white as alabaster.

2-1/2 pounds large white turnips 2-1/2 pounds large red-skinned potatoes 8 tablespoons unsalted butter

Scrub turnips and potatoes but do not peel.  Place in a large heavy pot with a cover and add salted water to cover.  Bring to a rapid boil then lower heat to medium. Cover and cook 40 minutes, or until vegetables are very soft.  Drain in a colander.  Peel turnips and potatoes under cool running water.  In a large bowl, mash both vegetables well with a potato masher.  Add butter, a little at a time.  Add salt and white pepper to taste, then whip with a wire whisk until smooth and fluffy. Serve immediately or reheat over low heat.  Serves 6 or more

The World's Best Carrot Cake

I am a bit ashamed of myself.  It is 6:35 in the morning and I have my finger stuck in a 1/2-inch layer of cream cheese frosting atop a 6-inch wedge of the best carrot cake I've ever eaten.  This is the third day in a row that I've done this.  It all began on Friday night when we had a pre-Thanksgiving celebration at the home of Anne Kabo in Margate, New Jersey.  Anne is one of the best home bakers I know and I shared that with the world on page 318 of Radically Simple.  There you can find her radically delicious cheesecake, simple and decadent enough to rival any blue ribbon winner.  Everything beautiful Anne bakes is always best-of-show and this weekend alone I had sampled her almond-kissed cranberry "pie" for breakfast, a delicate lemon cake with a gossamer slick of orange icing, the moistest pumpkin-nut bread, and what I now consider...the world's best carrot cake.  I am naturally prejudiced (since we love Aunt Anne and Uncle Richard) but not overly so.  When it comes to sweets, I can be acutely objective.  The fact that I even had room for dessert after the preternatural turkey dinner (that too was delicious -- Brussels sprouts with pine nuts, sweet potato puree with streusel, carrot-flecked stuffing were highlights) was testimony to its value.  The fact that I had a second helping was sheer gluttony. Aunt Anne has been making this cake for 25 years with the only change being its shape.  It has gone from square to round.  I love that it is not iced all over but instead shows off two thick layers glued together with an addictive cream cheese frosting and then topped, as though it was the universe's largest cupcake, with a heavy blanket of much more frosting.  There is a little frosting on my computer keys right now.

Aunt Anne was kind enough to share her recipe with all of us.  Perhaps you will make it today for your company on Thursday or consider bringing it as a Thanksgiving offering...wherever you may be going.

Anne Kabo's Carrot Cake 4 large eggs 1-1/2 cups canola oil 2 cups sugar 2 cups unbleached flour 1 tablespoon cinnamon 2 teaspoons baking soda 1 teaspoon salt 3 cups grated raw carrots (use large holes of box grater) 8 ounce can crushed pineapple (in juice), drained well 1 cup black raisins 1 cup walnuts, coarsely chopped

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Cut 2 rounds of parchment paper and place in each of two deep 8-inch round cake pans.  Lightly oil insides of pans.  In bowl of electric mixer, beat eggs, oil and sugar several minutes until well blended.  In another bowl, mix together, flour, cinnamon, baking soda and salt. Slowly add this mixture to the egg mixture and beat until just blended.  Add carrots, drained pineapple, raisins and nuts.  Beat until just blended.  Bake 45 to 55 minutes  until done, and inserted toothpick comes out clean.  Cool and invert cakes.  When totally cool, ice the cakes as desired.  (Anne adds a thin layer in the center, a thick layer on top and leaves the sides exposed.)

Cream Cheese Icing 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened 8 ounces cream cheese, room temperature 1/2 box of confectioners sugar (8 ounces by weight) 1 teaspoon vanilla

In bowl of electric mixer, using paddle attachment, beat together butter, cream cheese, sugar and vanilla until thick.  Chill briefly if too soft.

Cranberry Blog (oops...I mean Bog)

Good morning.  I did re-test my Spiced Cranberry Chutney and here it is.  You can make it with frozen cranberries (that don't need to be thawed) or berries fresh from the package.  Did you know that you can freeze cranberries up to 9 months?  (Just learned that myself.)  And you can refrigerate this chutney up to 3 weeks, probably longer.  Many cookbook authors, food stylists, and magazine writers keep lots of cranberries in their freezer because you just never know when you need them.  I won't disclose the magazine, but I just submitted a proposal for Thanksgiving dinner 2011! and will need lots of cranberries for testing sometime next summer (yes, 9 months from now.)

Spiced Cranberry Chutney 1 medium garlic clove 1 medium yellow onion, about 3-1/2 ounces 12 ounces cranberries 2/3 cup golden raisins 1 cup firmly packed light brown sugar 1/3 cup cider or rice vinegar 1 tablespoon mustard seed 1/4 teaspoon ground ginger 1/4 teaspoon ground allspice 1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves pinch red pepper flakes 3/4 to 1 cup finely diced ripe mango

Put garlic and peeled onion in food processor and pulse until coarsely ground.  Transfer to a large saucepan.  Add cranberries, raisins, 3/4 cup sugar, vinegar, mustard seed, ginger, allspice, cardamom, cloves, pepper flakes and a large pinch of salt.  Add 1 cup water and bring to a boil.  Lower heat and place cover askew.  Cook 35 minutes, stirring frequently, until chutney is very thick.  Remove from the heat.  Stir in remaining 1/4 cup sugar and mango.   Stir well, cover and let sit until room temperature. Stir, cover and refrigerate until very cold.  Makes about 3-1/2 cups

And here's one more signature use of cranberries.  It will fill a winter morning with mouthwatering perfume as it gets drizzled over thick slices of hot french toast. It is also delicious poured on freshly fallen snow.  Really.

Warm Cranberry-Maple Syrup (adapted from Christmas 1-2-3) 1 cup fresh cranberries 1 cup pure maple syrup 1 cinnamon stick or split vanilla bean

Place all the ingredients in a small heavy saucepan.  Add 1/2 cup water and stir.  Bring to a boil, then immediately lower heat and simmer 15 minutes. Strain through a coarse-mesh sieve, pressing down on the cranberries to extract juice.  Serve warm.  Makes 1 cup

A Tale of Two Cranberries

Years ago when I was a young chef, I used to enter recipe contests designated for professional chefs only.  Much to my surprise I won each one of the three I entered.  One was for white rice, one for Bisquick, and the other for fresh cranberries.  It's not that I was the best chef in the country, or even had the best dish, but my recipe titles were always intriguing and the flavors were always bold.  There was Jade Rice with Shrimp and Scallops; Mile-High Tamale Pie, and Spiced Cranberry Chutney, respectively.   Adding fresh mango, cardamom, mustard seed and pepper flakes to traditional-style cranberry sauce was a bit of culinary derring-do way back then. Years later, when creating a repertoire of dishes for my 1-2-3 books, I experimented with cranberries, again, but this time in a most radically simple way.  Three simple elements: fresh cranberries, sun-dried cherries and dark brown sugar, coalesced into two entirely different dishes:  One version was raw and the other, cooked. I loved the contrast, the ease, and the fun in experiencing the disparate qualities from the same ingredients -- the first, a tart relish, the other a sultry compote.

It certainly is the time of year to be thinking about such things.  Cranberries are harvested in the fall after the berry (originally white) takes on its distinctive garnet color.  And there is no Thanksgiving table in America (or in Canada on their Thanksgiving day) that will be devoid of the super-fruit in some form. Somehow the Native Americans knew of their beneficial medicinal properties long before the word anthocyanin was known.  

Today, I am going to re-test that decades-old prize-winning cranberry chutney and give you the results tomorrow.  Today, "the tale of two cranberries." (Adapted from Recipes 1-2-3 Menu Cookbook.)

Ruby Cranberries with Sun-Dried Cherries:  Relish and Compote Relish

12 ounces (about 3 cups) cranberries 4 ounces (about 3/4 cup) sun-dried cherries 3/4 cup packed dark brown sugar

Put cranberries and dried cherries in a small bowl.  Mix gently.  Add half the mixture to a food processor.  Process until coarsely, but evenly, chopped. Transfer to bowl.  Repeat with remaining mixture.  Add brown sugar, a pinch of salt, and a grinding of black pepper.  Mix very well so that the sugar dissolves and gets incorporated.  Cover and refrigerate 24 hours before serving.  Makes 2-1/2 cups

Compote 2/3 cup packed dark brown sugar 12 ounces (about 3 cups) cranberries 4 ounces (about 3/4 cup) sun-dried cherries

In heavy medium saucepan, put 1 cup water, brown sugar, pinch of salt and freshly ground black pepper.  Bring to a boil; add cranberries and dried cherries. Return to a boil, reduce heat and cook over medium heat for 10 minutes, or until cranberries have popped and sauce has thickened.  Cool at room temperature, then cover and refrigerate until cold.  Makes 2-1/4 cups

It's raining cranberries. Please send me your favorite recipe -- after all, it's almost Thanksgiving, a time to share.

White Carrots

I was planning to write about parsnips this morning -- my new favorite veg -- but something curious happened along the way.  Last night as I was flipping the tv remote, I came upon a show on the Cooking Channel in which the chef (a new face to me) was peeling root vegetables.  He referenced carrots, yellow potatoes, salsify and...white carrots.  "But those are parsnips," I declared, and decided to share a few new recipes with you.  But I was curious, too.  I know there are lots of varieties of carrots being grown today as evidenced in riotous colors in today's farmers markets.  I was also aware that red carrots have been grown in Egypt for centuries: They are sweet and often baked in the oven.  But I had limited experience with white carrots.  So I set about doing a bit of research and stumbled upon a whole new world:  The World Carrot Museum, in fact! (www.carrotmuseum.com). According to the museum, "the cultivated and edible carrot dates back about 5000 years and were first found in the Iranian plateau (including Afghanistan, Pakistan and Iran) and then later in the Persian Empire.  At that time they were purple, yellow, red and probably white."  They became orange sometime around the 1500's but you can read as much as you'd like about carrots on your own.  This morning, I am interested only to find out why I'm writing about carrots at all.  Here is the answer!

Throughout the Classical Period and the Middle Ages, writers constantly confused carrots and parsnips. "There was (and still is!)," according to the site, "enormous confusion when trying to sort out the individual histories of carrots and parsnips.  The Latin name for the parsnip genus is thought to come from pastus, meaning "food." This would further explain the historical confusion of the two vegetables, as well as offer a testament to how important they both were in the ancient diet."  Amen.

That tv chef is clearly struggling with this too, but, for clarity's sake, those were parsnips he was peeling.

In honor of this historical debate, I offer you, no kidding, a prescient foreboding of this dilemma from my book, Radically Simple.  It is called Milky Carrot and Parsnip Puree, and would make a very nice addition to your Thanksgiving table.

Milky Carrot and Parsnip Puree When carrots and parsnips bubble in a milk bath with fresh sage and a clove of garlic, the resultant puree is the color of orange sherbet with a voluptuous texture and an alluring flavor.  Nice with pork...or turkey.

1 pound carrots 1 pound parsnips 2 cups whole milk 4 large fresh sage leaves 1 large clove garlic 2 tablespoons unsalted butter

Peel the carrots and parsnips and cut them into 1/2-inch pieces.  Place in a large saucepan.  Add the milk (it will not cover the vegetables), sage, garlic and salt to taste. Bring to a boil.  Reduce the heat, place the cover askew, and simmer 20 minutes, until very soft.  Drain, saving the liquid.  Transfer the vegetables to a food processor and process until very smooth; adding cooking liquid as needed to make a thick, creamy puree.  Add the butter and process; season with salt and pepper.  Serves 6

Larousse Gastronomique

Some people read the Yellow Pages to pass the time away.  I read Larousse Gastronomique. Weighing in at a hefty 6 pounds 11-1/2 ounces, it is worth its heft in historical perspective, culinary fact, gastronomic bravura, and is lots of fun to read.  I recommend it highly for our new generation of foodies whose passion runs deep but whose knowledge is short of breadth.  Not their fault. The field of gastronomy is slowing being replaced by the current vogue of anything goes, anyone can be a chef, anyone can write a cookbook, and everyone can be a critic.  Information and experience not required!  When the American version of the book first appeared in 1971, Craig Claiborne wrote, "It is a work so towering and so meticulously put together, the reader must stand back in utter awe...A volume  that should be of extraordinary interest to anyone with a serious interest in gastronomy as an art."  Encyclopedic in nature -- from A to Z -- it contains 4000 recipes and 1000 illustrations and explains every facet of classical cuisine.The first installment is abaisse -- which, according to Larousse, is a term used in French cookery for a sheet of rolled-out pastry.  The last word (or words in this case) is zuppa inglese -- a dessert invented by Neapolitan pastry cooks who settled in big European cities in the 19th century.  It was inspired by English puddings that were fashionable at the time (literally meaning "English soup"), made from layers of sponge cake soaked in liqueur, with pastry cream, candied fruits and covered in meringue.

But something is missing!  The flap copy says that the last word in the book is zwieback (a kind of cracker) -- but it simply isn't there.

So I offer you a radically simple recipe from Recipes 1-2-3. Sweet Zwieback This simple little twice-baked cookie is somewhere between Jewish mandelbrot and Italian biscotti.   Great for dunking, great for teething.

2 extra-large eggs 2/3 cup vanilla sugar 1 cup flour

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.  Beat the eggs with a pinch of salt in a standing mixer for 6 minutes until very stiff and creamy.  Add the sugar and beat 1 minute. Lower speed and add the flour (add more if it is too wet.)  Pour batter into a nonstick 8-inch loaf pan (or grease the pan lightly.)  Bake 25 to 30 minutes until a toothpick comes out clean.  Let cool on rack.  Lower oven temperature to 275 degrees.  Remove the loaf from the pan and cut 16 1/4-inch slices. Place on a baking sheet and bake 8 to 10 minutes on each side until they begin to color.  Let cool.  Makes 16

You will learn so much, with Larousse at your bedside, that you will want to quit your job and become a Culinary Historian.

Zwieback, anyone?

I Love Paris

Last night before I went to bed, I popped a few moist prunes in my mouth and started to reminisce.  Why was it that prunes make most people snicker, while they make me long for Paris!  Yes, it's true.  When I was 20, or so, I took my first trip to France and was mesmerized by the dessert cart in most bistros.  No, it wasn't the tarte tatins or the offerings of chocolate mousse that interested me, it was the pedigree of the prunes that sat soaking up a vast amount of red wine.  It seemed to me a most sensible, and sensuous, way to end a meal.  Of course I was embarrassed (snicker) but after a glass or two of Bouzy rouge (red champagne!) one late afternoon (at the bistro run by the famous chef Michel Oliver), I summoned the courage, and have been serving them ever since.   Not only that, I began to experiment with prune juice, too! (snicker, snicker). But first, the prunes (which, as you may know, begin life as plums.)  I like to pit them and wrap them in short pieces of bacon and broil them as a simple hors d'oeuvres. (For real drama, slip a tiny piece of candied ginger into the prune before wrapping.) Often I put them in a jar, designated for the task, and cover them with cold water and a gossamer slice of lemon, and let them sit, tightly covered in the fridge until they express their dark liquid to form a viscous broth.  Stewed prunes, without the stewing!  Other times, I use them along with prosciutto and sage,  to stuff a fleshy turkey roast (recipe from Radically Simple, below).  For dessert, I plump them in port wine and then hand-carve shards of white chocolate to scatter on top.

But the most curious recipe of all (which was featured in the New York Times and appears in my Recipes 1-2-3 Menu Cookbook) was my audacious use of prune juice.  I simply simmer it until it is greatly reduced and begins to resemble chocolate syrup!  It makes an improbably delicious "sundae" with coffee ice cream and toasted sliced almonds.

Rolled-and-Tied Turkey Roast with Prosciutto, Prunes & Sage I love preparing a "turkey roast," which is nothing more than a boned breast half with the skin on.  Here it is filled with prosciutto, sage leaves,  and prunes, then rolled and tied.

2-1/4 pound turkey roast (large boned half breast, skin on) 4 ounces thinly sliced prosciutto 10 large pitted prunes 1/4 cup pine nuts 12 large fresh sage leaves 12 medium shallots, peeled 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil 1 cup chicken broth 1/2 cup dry white wine 1 tablespoon unsalted butter

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.  Using a mallet, flatten the turkey (skin side down) to 1-inch thickness.  Cover evenly with the prosciutto.  Arrange the prunes in a tight row down the center.  Top with pine nuts and 6 sage leaves.  Roll up tightly.  Season with salt and pepper.  Tie with string at 1-inch intervals and tuck 6 sage leaves under the string.  Place the turkey and shallots in a small roasting pan.  Drizzle with the oil.  Roast 45 minutes, until cooked through.  Transfer the turkey and shallots to a board.  Pour the broth and wine into the pan.  Place pan on the stovetop and boil, scraping up browned bits, until syrupy, 3 minutes.  Strain into a saucepan.  Whisk in the butter and cook 1 minute.  Remove the string; and thickly slice.  Serve with the shallots and pan sauce.  Serves 6

We Are What We Cook

I'm appreciative, these days, when anyone takes the time to do anything "other directed!"  Whether it's a hand-written thank you note, an email from a fan wanting to connect, or an unsolicited book review (especially the positive ones!), I think of the thought and effort proffered.  "Doing onto others as you would have them do unto you," is a notion that generally informs my life and would probably modulate all of our behavior towards kindness.  Aside from niceties, however, I get a major kick out of learning what recipes people choose to make from my books!  I even enjoy the considered "critical" comments from someone I intuit knows their way around the kitchen.  Now that Radically Simple has been out for not quite three weeks, there are 21 reviews on Amazon and a handful of other reviews on various sites.  Out of 325 recipes contained in the book, those initial recipe choices not only reflect the personal preferences of the cook, but reveal other phenomenon of who we are, where we live, our skill sets, taste preferences, our general curiosity about new things, and our steadfastness for the familiar.

But perhaps other factors are at play.  One's attraction to a particular photograph or to a title (many people like "The Little Black Dress Chocolate Cake"); a penchant for learning something new and making the effort to find an unfamiliar ingredient like za'atar (an intoxicating spice mixture from the Middle East made from dried hyssop, sumac and sesame seeds. It smells like Jerusalem and looks like marijuana and is available in many spice stores and online), Sriracha hot sauce or smoked paprika.  Maybe it's the desire to be inventive, try a new combination of flavors, evoke a memory from another time or place, or daring to keep-it-simple, which is, after all, the philosophy of the book.

So here are some of your favorites so far --  beginning with breakfast and marching towards dessert -- Homemade Cream Cheese and Carrot Marmalade; Runny Eggs on Creamy Scallion Bacon Grits; Smoked Salmon, Basil & Lemon Quesadillas; Eggless Caesar Salad with Green Apple "Croutons"; Seared Salmon on a Moroccan Salad; Golden Fettuccine with Sardines, Fennel & Saffron; A Recipe from 1841: Macaroni & Tomatoes; Silver Packet Flounder with Miso Mayo; Salmon with Lime Leaves, Poppy Rice & Coconut Sauce; Sauteed Chicken with Roasted Grapes & Grape Demi Glace;  Chicken with Za'atar, Lemon & Garlic; Big Juicy Sundried Tomato Burgers; Pork Loin in Cream with Tomatoes, Gin & Sage; Creamy Potato Gratin; Sweet Potato Puree with Fresh Ginger and Orange; and..."The Little Black Dress Chocolate Cake."

Equally interesting is what the print journalists choose:  Food & Wine Magazine loved the Salmon en chemise (wrapped in smoked salmon) with its fresh tomatillo sauce;  the Washington Post chose Crunchy Crumbed Cod with Frozen Peas; the Cleveland Plain Dealer selected Sauteed Chicken with Roasted Grapes; the Oregonian singled out Broccoli Soup with Lemon-Pistachio Butter, Chicken with Chorizo, Peppadews & Fino Sherry; Lamb Chops with Smoked Paprika Oil, Cumin & Arugula, and French Yogurt Cake with Nutella.  The last recipe was also referenced by Faye Levy in the Jerusalem Post.

Perhaps we are what we cook.

French Yogurt Cake with Nutella This is very moist thanks to the yogurt and butter, but it is especially delicious thanks to the Nutella!  Serve with raspberries, cherries, or whipped cream, or plain. Or dust the entire cake with confectioners' sugar pushed through a sieve.

1 stick unsalted butter 1-1/2 cups flour 1-1/2 teaspoon baking powder 3 extra-large eggs 1 cup sugar 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract 1/2 cup plain Greek yogurt 1/4 cup Nutella

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Lightly butter 9-inch springform pan.  Melt the butter in a saucepan; set aside to cool.  Mix together the flour, baking powder, and a large pinch of salt.  Using an electric mixer, beat the eggs, sugar, and vanilla until thick, 3 minutes.  Add the flour mixture, yogurt, and melted butter; mix until smooth.  Pour two-thirds of the batter into the pan.  Add the Nutella to the remaining batter and beat until smooth.  Pour atop the plain batter.  Run a rubber spatula through the batter to make a marbled pattern.  Bake 40 to 45 minutes until just firm.  Cool on a rack.  Release the side of the pan and serve. Serves 8

Citymeals-on-Wheels

Gael Greene's "Power Luncheon for Women" is the culinary equivalent of Quincy Jones' "We Are the World."  For the past 24 years, Gael has orchestrated formidable star power to raise money and support for Citymeals-on-Wheels.  In so doing, millions and millions of dollars have helped feed New York's elderly and elevated the level of awareness of their plight to mythic proportion.  Yesterday the event was held at the newly refurbished Pierre Hotel (now owned by the Taj Group from India).  The meal was first-class and an extremely generous offering, made no doubt, by one of the world's great hoteliers, Raymond Bickson.

The event was full of power and heart.  More than 400 women (and a smattering of men) gathered to praise the efforts of Gael Greene and Marcia Stein, who has been the executive director for years.   Instead of singing we ate, and talked to women we never met before.  Instead of planned seating, we each drew a number out of a big silver bowl and hoped for the best.  But it is always the best when you make it so.  I had the pleasure of sitting next to Ann Marie Borghese who, with her husband, bought the Hargrave vineyard on Long Island and created an exciting new venture, the "Borghese Vineyard & Winery." Next to me was a woman research scientist (a zoologist!), next to her an executive with American Airlines, next to her a lawyer who loves the organization, next to her Francine LeFrak, and so on. Gracing the stage were more formidable women, including glamorous Gael in her signature sailor's cap, Kathleen Turner, the screen icon and Citymeals board member who was a 2010 honoree (along with Diana Taylor, former chairwoman of the New York State Banking Board), Paula Zahn, and most importantly, on screen, some of the elderly who benefit daily from the hot meals and hugs delivered by the volunteers of Citymeals.

This event was first organized by James Beard, Gael Greene, Donald and Barbara Tober and other notables in the food world who fittingly decided to help "feed the forgotten."  In the beginning, it was Joseph Baum and Michael Whiteman who were "the angels" who hosted the luncheon at the legendary Rainbow Room atop Rockefeller Center.  Decades later, I am happy to say that the event is as elegant as ever and continues to inspire.

The mission statement reads:  "Citymeals-on-Wheels provides a continuous lifeline of nutritious food and human company to homebound elderly New Yorkers in need, helping them live with dignity in their own familiar homes and communities."   Simple and powerful.

So why not make a simple meal today and then make a simple contribution?  It will taste doubly delicious.

In honor of the wonderful scallop dish served at the luncheon, I will share one of my favorite recipes from Radically Simple.

Seared Scallops on Sweet Pea Puree This is one of the most beloved recipes from my original Recipes 1-2-3, but I've updated it with dry vermouth and a garnish of trendy pea shoots. It is a dish for any time of the year because frozen petits pois, always available, provide the base of the lovely buttery puree.

10 ounces frozen petits pois, thawed 4 tablespoons unsalted butter 20 medium-large sea scallops 3 tablespoons dry vermouth handful of pea shoots, mache, or microgreens

Put the peas in a saucepan with water to cover.  Boil 2 minutes.  Drain well and save 6 tablespoons cooking liquid.  Put the peas, 2 tablespoons butter, and the cooking liquid in a blender.  Puree until very smooth and thick. Add salt and pepper. Return to the saucepan.  Keep warm.  Melt 1 tablespoon butter in a large skillet.  Season the scallops and sear over high heat 2 minutes per side until golden and just cooked through.  Spread the warm pea puree in the center of 4 large plates.  Arrange the scallops on the puree.  Add the vermouth and the remaining butter to the skillet.  Cook over high heat until syrupy, 30 seconds.  Pour over the scallops and top with pea shoots.  Serves 4

Arthur Schwartz

Several days ago, Food & Wine Magazine deemed "Radically Simple" their favorite cookbook of 2010 and cited a recipe inspired by my dear friend Arthur Schwartz, who is, undoubtedly the reason many of you are reading my blog this morning. The recipe for Chicken Thighs with Rosemary and Two Paprikas, says Kristin Donnelly in the F&W blog, is "the perfect weeknight dish.  Besides the minced garlic that's rubbed all over the thighs, the recipes only contains the ingredients in the title but tastes amazingly complex." (recipe below)

I owe a lot to Arthur.  As I write in the acknowledgments page of "Radically Simple," there are two men who stand out among all the others in influencing my mind and heart--two who have caressed and challenged me to become a better writer, a deeper thinker, and a better cook. One is my husband; the other is Arthur Schwartz.  Arthur, the food writer, critic, and radio personality known for his extraordinary culinary expertise, has been one of my very best friends since 1978 when we met in the kitchen of Gracie Mansion.  I had just become chef to Mayor Ed Koch, and Arthur was the restaurant critic of the New York Daily News.  We have spoken almost daily ever since then.  Arthur's cooking style has influenced mine for decades.  He is the master of simplicity and authenticity -- specifically in Italian regional cuisine, but he also possesses great knowledge of the foodways of many other cultures.  It is a joy to have him in my life.   In the case of the said chicken recipe, Arthur uses chicken legs (with thighs) and no garlic at all.

In addition to Arthur's many award-winning cookbooks which you can purchase online, Arthur has recently created an "on-line" store which you will enjoy shopping in!  It should be your go-to place this holiday season to buy cookbooks and presents galore.  He has a dynamite seltzer-making kit, a chrome 4-slice toaster with 50's styling, an instant-read thermometer, and a meat-grinder attachment for your KitchenAid.  You can also purchase "Radically Simple", and our cookbooks, through his site.  Arthur, since I've known him, has always wanted to have a store...not a restaurant!  Wise man.  He has superlative taste in all things related to food, cooking, design, culinary history, and tabletop wares.  Simply go to the foodmaven.com.

In short, Arthur is a treasure with a treasure chest.

Enjoy the chicken.  Serve it with a pan full of garlicky sauteed broccoli rabe and open a bottle of retro, but not forgotten, Chianti or Soave. And how about a radically simple dessert?  Peeled sliced pears tossed with a bit of grappa and sugar and topped with lemon sorbet.

Chicken Thighs with Rosemary & Two Paprikas This is among our family's favorite emergency meals, inspired by food maven Arthur Schwartz.  Arthur says that placing the chicken on the top rack of the oven is an important step in the recipe's success.

8 very large bone-in chicken thighs, skin-on 2 large garlic cloves 4 teaspoons sweet paprika 4 teaspoons smoked paprika 16 large sprigs fresh rosemary

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.  Make 2 deep slits across the width of each thigh.  Push the garlic through a press and rub into the chicken.  Season with salt and pepper.  Mix the paprikas with 1/2 teaspoon salt.  Sprinkle the mixture into the slits, then place a rosemary sprig in each slit.  Arrange the chicken on a rimmed baking sheet.  Roast in the top oven rack for 40 to 45 minutes until firm and cooked through but still juicy.  Serves 4

Happy Thanksgiving, Mr. President

I was enthralled by the story yesterday in the food section of the New York Times about Marilyn Monroe's recipe for Thanksgiving stuffing. What a fabulous bit of sleuthing by authors Matt and Ted Lee to determine the origin of the recipe.   In a new book called "Fragments" -- a collection of letters, poems, and "scribblings" of Ms. Monroe's from 1943 to 1962 -- resides a poignant reminder of a real life: a handwritten recipe for stuffing a turkey or chicken. Amazing in its complexity, it is quirky and voluptuous, and much like the cook herself.

But more interesting for me, on a personal level, is that the book highlights Monroe's life when she was married to Arthur Miller and a student of Lee Strasberg at the Actor's Studio, predominantly in the late '50's.  Some 15 years later, right after graduating Tufts University, I decided to open a catering business out of my small apartment in midtown Manhattan.  I called it "Catering Artistique."  My boyfriend at the time was a terrific actor and I, a very bad actress. Instead I set my sights on cooking and wound up with a roster of clients including politicians, (infamous) lawyers, and theatre people.  Among them were Lee and Anna Strasberg.  They hired me many times to cook their holiday meals and be their "go-to" girl for cocktail parties and intimate gatherings. I cooked mostly at their apartment on the upper west side.  It had a homey kitchen with a famous back door.  And you would never know who would walk in (or out) at a moment's notice.  Most often it was Al Pacino who lived in the building.   Sometimes I did the event solo, or with my boyfriend Lee. Decked out with a white shirt, black bow tie, and black pants, he would play the starring role that evening as he acted as a waiter -- just waiting, someday, to be an actor.  It was hard not to swoon at all of it during those evenings, rubbing elbows with the theatre's most humble glitterati.  And it was impossible not to think of what those evening's would have been like -- if Marilyn had walked through the kitchen door.

Marilyn's stuffing according to the Lee's, has 11 ingredients plus five herbs and spices.  The recipe I offer below, which I created for the holiday issue of Real Food magazine, is far simpler, radically so, and unlike Ms. Monroe's recipe, has a whiff of garlic.   There are surprising similarities however --my recipe is also a bit "Italian-inspired" and also includes nuts, almonds, rosemary and parmesan cheese.  Here's a sneak preview:

Almond, Rosemary and Panko “Stuffing” This modern stuffing has an old-fashioned taste because of traditional flavors of celery,  onion and rosemary.  But the twist is the use of panko breadcrumbs (in addition to bread slices), sliced almonds, and a liberal amount of nutty, sweet Parmigiano-Reggiano.  This “stuffing,” baked outside of the turkey’s cavity, can be assembled early in the day, and refrigerated in the large baking dish which will later be heated alongside the turkey.   You may add slivers of prosciutto to the mix if desired.

4 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 cup finely chopped celery

2 cups coarsely chopped onion

2 teaspoons dried basil leaves

2 teaspoons dried Greek oregano

1 cup sliced almonds

2 cups panko

5 slices firm white bread, cut into ½-inch squares

½ cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano

2 extra-large eggs

1-3/4 cups chicken stock

1 large clove garlic

1 tablespoon finely minced fresh rosemary

Melt 2 tablespoons butter and olive oil in 4-quart pot.  Add celery and onion and cook, stirring, over high heat for 10 minutes until soft.  Add basil, oregano, and almonds and cook 2 minutes.   Stir in panko and bread squares and cook 2 minutes until coated.   Transfer stuffing to large shallow baking dish.  Stir in cheese, salt and pepper to taste.   Beat together eggs and chicken stock.  Add garlic, pushed through a press.  Pour over bread mixture.  Mix well.  Stir in rosemary and dot with remaining butter.  Cover and refrigerate until ready to bake.  Bake at 375 degrees until golden brown and crispy, about 1-1/2 hours.   Serves 8

Cookbooks Are Us

As many of you know, when Gourmet Library was suddenly shuttered, there remained a scholarly collection of more than 3500 cookbooks whose fate was undetermined.  Within the food community there was great concern about what was to happen.  Either someone buys the collection or regrettably the collection would be  broken up and each book sold for $4. The real value in keeping books together is their "curated content"  (a phrase I learned yesterday at the Publishers Weekly seminar).  I had the opportunity, and honor, to be the one to buy the collection and donate it to New York University in honor of my beautiful mother, Marion Gold.  She was the one who encouraged me, at a time when women were anathema in professional kitchens, to pursue my passion.   In 1976 I dropped out of graduate school (at New York University, no less!) and cooked in any kitchen that would have me. In 1978, I became, at age 23, the first chef to New York Mayor Ed Koch and lived in Gracie Mansion. And yes, it all started with a cookbook.  One that I carried around with me since I was five.  I don't think it was the "Joy of Cooking" but a simple "Golden Book" my mother had given me.  How I long to have that book in my library at home!  As I learned yesterday, cookbook sales are steady and strong, despite the millions of recipes available on the Internet.  I encourage you to read the lovely comment made yesterday by "Barn" (see comments below.) It best describes the reason there will always be a market for cookbooks.  For it is the experience we crave, not merely the mechanics of preparing a dish.

She says, "There isn't anything I enjoyed more after a long day than a cookbook on my lap and a cup of tea by my side.  As I flipped through the pages carefully considering each recipe, not only did I visualize myself cooking the dish when I would eventually get the time, but as I read the list of ingredients I could taste it."  Thank you, Barn, for sharing that.

So, too, are some of my happiest moments, even to this day.  Curled up in bed reading a book -- one of those special ones that creates a sense of longing and connects us to some ancient hunger.

I also want to thank Gerd Stern who commented on the inclusion of Neruda in my poem, for Mr. Stern is one of the great poets and multi-media artists alive today. And if that's not enough, he was also president of the American Cheese Society.  A man after my own heart.

What I learned yesterday:  The average cookbook has 225 recipes.  In order for cookbook publishing to thrive, publishers need to monetize recipes outside the book.  E-books are definitely on their way into our kitchens but their quality must be improved.  Will Schwalbe, founder and CEO of Cookstr.com, said that the real competition of cookbooks was Jet Blue, Dr. Spock, and the local gym.  People don't read on planes anymore (they watch the news); parents actually spend time with their kids (and aren't reading), and they spend their free time at the gym (and aren't reading.)  The future?  People will have very sophisticated, high-quality printers at home and will be able to print books at a moment's notice.

Your turn:  Let me know which cookbook -- old or new -- has brought you the most pleasure.

Dish of the day:  In honor of Gerd, this is one of the most delicious cheese and fruit combinations I've discovered: Aged Gouda (as old as you can find it) and moist, fleshy Medjool dates.

Enjoy!

The Future of Cookbooks

I'm off and running this morning to an early presentation on the future of cookbook publishing.  Oy! According to Publishers Weekly, millions of home cooks to go FoodNetwork.com, AllRecipes.com and Epicurious.com every day to access free recipes from a variety of credible (and not so credible) sources.  Where does that leave cookbook publishers, many of whom are sitting on vast troves of recipes that have never been published online?  This morning, a panel of experts will illuminate the various ways publishers will begin to use the Web and apps to monetize their cookbook content. As someone who has created thousands of recipes over the years -- for magazines, newspapers, 12 cookbooks, as well as multi-starred restaurants, it will be fascinating to learn their fate...not to mention mine! But cookbooks, or at least some of them, contain far more than recipes.  Great cookbooks are much more than the sum of their parts.  Too often they are merely judged on a single recipe's outcome rather than the philosophy behind the approach or the connective tissue that makes a book whole -- and not just a collection.  You may even be surprised to know that many of my cookbooks contain touch points of real literature -- poetry,memoir, fictional essays, historical non-fiction, and theory.

So here's a poem from Desserts 1-2-3. Desserts 1-2-3 Pablo Neruda wrote odes to life; To nature, to love, to the sun,

I prefer writing odes to sweets, and worship them one by one.

Crème brûlée takes your breath away when it shatters the quiet below,

And chocolate soufflé topped with chocolate sorbet can sweeten most any woe.

In happier days, à la mode was the vogue and crowned many an apple pie.

But today it is sleek, and undoubtedly chic, to find them side by side.

For some of you chocolate gives meaning to life, for others it merely suffices.

Whether a pro or a rookie, in a truffle or cookie, chocolate is great in a crisis.

"Simple pleasures are life's greatest treasures," Neruda once whispered to me.

He then kissed my hand and gave me a pan, and slowly counted to three. by Rozanne Gold

And here's a recipe to celebrate the day. All-Chocolate Velvet Tart (from Radically Simple) This extremely elegant dessert can be assembled in less than 20 minutes.  Let it sit in the fridge until just firm, and serve with crème fraiche.

5 ounces chocolate graham crackers 5 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature 1 cup heavy cream 12 ounces semisweet chocolate, chopped 2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder 1 tablespoon crème de cassis or 1 teaspoon grated orange zest 1 cup crème fraiche

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Lightly butter a 9-inch fluted removable-bottom tart pan.  Combine the graham crackers and 4 tablespoons butter in a food processor.  Pulverize until finely ground.  Pack the crumbs into the pan to form an even bottom crust.  Bake 10 minutes.  Bring the cream just to a boil in a large saucepan.  Reduce the heat and simmer 5 minutes.  Add the chocolate and stir constantly over low heat until melted.  Stir in the cocoa, cassis, and the remaining 1 tablespoon butter.  Pour into the crumb crust; refrigerate 45 minutes or until just firm.   Serve with crème fraiche.  Serves 10 or more.

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The Window Box

One of the most special presents I ever received was an enormous window box made for me by my husband. It hangs outside the window of my brownstone kitchen where it soaks up the sun and, sometimes, too much rain.  Once the entire bottom of the box fell out and lots of dirt (and precious herbs!) landed in our backyard garden.  But my beloved husband simply made me another which has lasted for years and whose contents are thriving. I'm not much of a gardener but overlooking my neighbor's trees, flowers and well-manicured gardens, I am the master of my herbs.  What a pleasure to pick off tiny leaves of fresh thyme, to add sprigs of fresh mint to any dessert in a moment's notice, or muddle a few for a warm peppermint tea. More pleasure still from crumbling fragrant rosemary into a soup or stew, or to mix sweet-smelling lavender with goat cheese and spinach and stuff it under the skin of a chicken.

One of my most requested recipes was a result, however, of the abundance of basil in that window box years ago.  Salmon with pesto and pistachios has been copied by chefs and made by home cooks alike since 1996 -- when I first introduced the dish.  I simply slather a thick tranche of fatty salmon or voluptuous Chilean sea bass with homemade pesto and thickly blanket the top with freshly-ground pistachios.   It is virtually fool-proof and can even be made with a good-quality prepared pesto if you have no time to make your own.

I like to serve the fish with lemony mashed potatoes (you can use your own favorite recipe and add lots of freshly grated zest and a bit of lemon juice)  and a pile of something  I call green bean "fries."  Sometimes I serve a platter of "melted tomatoes" (from Recipes 1-2-3) alongside. Open a bottle of sauvignon blanc -- one of those crisp, delicious ones from New Zealand or South Africa.

Chilean Sea Bass with Pistachio-Pesto Crust & Green Bean "Fries" This is also great made with fresh salmon.   Make your own pesto (see below) or use the best-quality store-bought -- fresh, bright green and herbaceous.

4 thick Chilean sea bass, or salmon, fillets (about 7 ounces each) 2/3 cup pesto (made from fresh basil) 1/2 cup finely ground pistachios 12 ounces green beans, trimmed 2 tablespoons olive oil 1 lemon

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.  Season the fish with salt and pepper and arrange on a rimmed baking sheet.  Spread fillet with pesto, about 2-1/2 tablespoons, to cover completely.  Pat the pistachios heavily on the pesto to form a crust.  Drizzle the green beans with the oil and sprinkle with salt.  Place around the fish.  Roast for 16 minutes, until the fish is just firm.  Grate lemon zest on top.  Cut the lemon into wedges and serve with the fish and beans.  Serves 4

Pesto Presto 2 cups packed fresh basil leaves, washed and dried well 1/3 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano 6 tablespoons olive oil 2 tablespoons pine nuts 1 large clove garlic

Put the basil in a food processor with the cheese, oil, pine nuts, and garlic.  Process until smooth.  Add salt and pepper to taste.