Why I'm not a baker: Office Cookie Exchange 2010

This post could also be called "Why Equipment Matters."  For my office's beer and cookie exchange, I have to make 7 dozen cookies.  Plus more for friends plus more to nibble on in the kitchen.  Since I am not a baker, and do not enjoy the recipes required to be a good baker, I thought I'd try a shortbread, which I am told is the easiest cookie to perfect.  Just butter, flour, sugar, perhaps a touch of vanilla.  Thought I'd spruce it up with a little lavender and orange zest, for a little foodie flair.  Over the last couple of weeks, I've tried a few different batches, and upon the advice of a friend (who's kind of a shortbread whiz) I decided this recipe was going to guide me throughout my afternoon of baking.

Since I'm cooking dozens of cookies, a pie dish (as suggested by Bon Apetit) just wouldn't do.  I whipped out all of our baking gear, processed the crap out of almost four pounds of butter and even more flour, and prepped dough and pans for about 8 dozen cookies. After a few hours of processing and refrigerating and baking, I ended up with two wildly different results, as seen below (photographed with the wine I was drinking to ease my baking frustrations). One and a half batches came out in crumbles, the other two slid perfect out of the baking sheets.  The difference: the successful batches were made in our heavy-duty non-stick metal pans.  The failures (or shortbread chips) were baked in a thin metal hardly non-stick (though greased) pan.  

On a stove top, it's relatively easy for me to adjust from one pot or pan to the next, to adapt to the kitchen materials you've been provided.  Sure, it can change the results and the methods you have to use, but the likelihood is you can still make a sauce or some pasta.  Baking, grrr, baking, why do you need such attention to detail?!?!

Good new is, shortbread chips still taste like butter and sugar, and that ain't all bad...

Instant Love: Roasted Chicken

I don't cook meat very often, but I sure do love a roasted bird. I didn't start roasting things until about a year ago, and I'm glad I did.  A roasted chicken is so good, and so easy.  I'm sure there are ways to spruce this up, but a basic roasted chicken does it for me.  I take a couple of tablespoons of butter and mix it together with some salt and some spices (in this one, about 1 tsp. salt, 1 tsp. lavender, and 2 tsp. thyme).  Using my finger, I separate the skin from the meat and rub about half of the butter-herb mix directly onto the meat.  The rest of the butter I put on top of the skin - it usually doesn't stick very well, so I just plop some butter here and there, on the legs and breasts, and it melts nicely to make it brown.  Inside of the cavity of the chicken, I put some lemon and onion slices and a few cloves of garlic.  Cook at 350 for about 1 1/2 hours for a 3 pound chicken.  About an hour into the cooking time, I like to pour a cup of white wine over the bird to give it a little moisture and extra flavor.  About 15 minutes prep, then hang out, enjoy a simple home-cooked dinner, and save the rest for luncheon leftovers!

Note: you can usually get away with more salt than you think, especially rubbed outside of the skin.  And, when in doubt, add more butter and a sprinkle of dried herbs on top!  Also, paying the extra dollar per pound to get an organic, free range bird really is worth it.  It tastes fresher, mine have always come out more moist than their processed counterparts, and it feels a touch better for the soul.

Food nostalgia: Cheesy Hashbrowns

I really started to cook when I lived in California. The abundance of fresh, local produce available year-round and my meager AmeriCorps salary meant that it made the most sense to learn how to cook with unfamiliar, inexpensive ingredients and hope for the best. Plus, good food permeates the city, from the late-night street meat in the Mission to foodie meccas like Chez Panisse and Coi. It was hard not to get swept away by the foodie-ness. Because I came to cooking-age out West, my weekly meal planning leans towards more simple, produce-centric dishes. Sure, I keep my pantry stocked with some tomato puree, veggie bullion, and generic bread crumbs, but other than that I don't often used canned or pre-packaged ingredients. But, something about this time of year brings out my inner wannabe-1950's Midwest housewife who just wants to make casseroles and hotdishes and all sorts of hearty, cheesy goodies that use exotic ingredients like cream of mushroom soup. The idea of Semi-Homemade Cooking usually weirds me out, but the thought of a tater tot hotdish (a favorite in my household growing up) or a tuna casserole...boy oh boy does that brings me back to very cold Minnesota evenings, fighting with my brothers and making ice traps in our annual snow fort. Ahh, the good old days.

My absolute favorite hotdish is the cheesy hashbrown casserole that is a staple of our Christmas morning brunch. My aunt makes two massive pans of it to feed the ever-growing Irish Catholic crew. I tell ya, there are few things in the world I love more than cheese and potatoes. I had attempted this dish a few times in college, but much to my chagrin, it was never the same. I tried it with home-shredded potatoes and creamy bechamels and a variety of different cheeses, and nothing! So, I gave up and decided that my cheesy hashbrowns would just have to wait for Christmas morning. I stopped believing in Santa when I was 6 or so, but I still wake up with the giddiness of a child on Christmas morning, anxious for the annual spread of hashbrowns, oatmeal-molasses bread (which we cousins sneakily eat throughout the day like a high schooler with a flask), and 24 hours of A Christmas Carol.

All of this reminiscing about food and Christmas and family is probably unnecessary, but now maybe you can imagine my excitement to have those very same cheesy potatoes show up at Fakesgiving, a vegetarian Thanksgiving celebration hosted by a friend of mine. I asked the chef how he made those delectable taters, and he told me all you need are some frozen hashbrowns, canned soup, sour cream, and some cheese. Seriously? All I have to do is go buy some prepacked products, chop up an onion, and stir? That's all? No scrubbing or peeling, no dicing, no making a sauce? Sandra Lee, you might just be onto something.

Traditionally (at least during my childhood), cheesy hashbrowns are made with a bright orange sharp cheddar, but I only had white cheddar on hand for this batch. Sometime this winter (as I'm sure I'll be making this every week or so) I'm going to try this with some gruyere or a mix of cheeses, for a little extra pizazz. Also, to make me feel just slightly better about eating at least two daily servings of what is essentially carbs wrapped in cheese, I added in some frozen chopped broccoli. Lastly, you can make this with cream of chicken soup, but the cream of celery adds a nice touch of flavor that brings out the sour cream and cheese.

Cheesy Hashbrowns

1 large (1 1/2 to 2 pounds) bag frozen hashbrowns, thawed
1 medium onion, chopped
2 cups sour cream (I've used light and haven't had any problems)
1 can of cream of celery soup
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. pepper
2 cups shredded cheddar cheese, plus extra for the top
2 boxes frozen chopped broccoli

Bread crumbs (panko will work too, or, according to my research, crushed Ritz crackers or cornflakes)
Cooking oil spray

1) Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a large bowl, mix all the ingredients except for the bread crumbs and extra cheese. Pour into a large greased baking pan.

2) Sprinkle the rest of the cheese on top, and then a sprinkle it again lightly with bread crumbs. Spray the top with cooking oil until well coated - this will help it brown and not to burn.

3) Bake until top is browned and potatoes are soft, about 45 minutes.

4) Eat, and reminisce about your favorite childhood foods...

...Happy Winter!

It's Choux Time, Part 2: Baked Gnocchi (ala Gnocchi Parisienne)

Gnocchi is one of those things I feel like is easier to learn if you spent a lot of your time watching your grandma make it. It's a dish I'm scared to attempt, especially after hearing how hard it is to make the perfect gnocchi. I've been trying with easier versions, namely ricotta gnocchi that has not ended up as light and fluffy as I have hoped. When I saw a recipe for gnocchi parisienne, I was excited to find a new way to approach the dish, using the choux dough I've become so fond of.

The process of piping and cutting the dough into boiling water (described below) sounds weird and difficult, but is actually pretty gosh darn easy. I read one recipe that recommends transferring the cooked gnocchi to a baking dish to dry in a single layer. I'm going to try that next time - the gnocchi was so delicate even after it cooked that it mushed up a bit when I put it in a bowl before baking it. I actually ended up browning the gnocchi in a bit of olive oil before mixing it with the sauce.

I'm thinking the possibilities for sauces for gnocchi parisienne are endless. Pretty much anything you'd put into a baked pasta will work here. Also, when you're serving this up, keep in mind the gnocchi are deceptively filling - they taste all light and airy, but are packed in with a lot of butter and flour.

Note: I've been using the Cordon Bleu recipe for my dough, which calls for four eggs. However, I found that the dough came out a eggier than my liking. So, I've adjusted it to three eggs. Try it either way, and see which you prefer.

Baked Gnocchi (ala Gnocchi Parisienne)

1 cup water
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter
1 cup flour
1 tsp salt
3-4 eggs (see note above)
1 large shallot, diced
2 large garlic cloves, minced
8 oz. sliced mushrooms
1 tsp. dried tarragon
1 6 oz. bag of baby spinach
1/2 cup cottage cheese or ricotta
2 cups (1 8 oz. bag) Italian cheese mix (mine was three cheeses - Mozzarella, Provolone, and Parm)

1) Preheat oven to 400 degrees. To make the choux dough: in medium stock pot, bring butter and water to a boil. Once butter is melted, remove from heat and stir in flour until dough is smooth and shiny with a wooden spoon (whisks don't work in my experience). Add eggs slowly and mix until well incorporated and smooth. Return to low heat and stir a minute or two to dry off any excess moisture.

2) In a large saute pan, cook the shallot and garlic in olive oil until soft. Add the mushrooms, tarragon, and a generous pinch of salt, and cook on medium-low heat until mushrooms are soft, 10-15 minutes.

3) Bring a large pot of water to a rolling boil. Transfer the choux dough to a 1-gallon ziplock bag and cut a small hole in the corner. Using one hand, squeeze the dough out of the bag. Using the other hand, cut the dough into 1-inch strips into the water with a kitchen night. Continue until all your dough is done. Gnocchi are ready when they float to the top of the pot. (If your pot can't hold all the gnocchi, remove some with a slotted spoon, transfer to a bowl or dish, and drizzle with a touch of oil.)

4) Add the spinach to saute pan with the mushrooms and cook until wilted, about 5 minutes.

5) In a large bowl mix together the cottage cheese/ricotta and 1 cup of shredded cheese. Add the gnocchi and spinach-mushroom mix and fold gently (be careful not to crush the delicate gnocchi.) Transfer to a greased pan and top with remaining cheese.

6) Bake until cheese is brown and crispy, about 30 minutes. Serve immediately.

It's Choux Time, Part 1: Gougeres

I am not a baker. Sometimes I toy with cookies, when I get a mad hankering for some sugar, and I try to make soda bread around St. Patty's Day. But really, the precision that good baking requires is just too time consuming and finicky for me. So, I was excited to discover just how easy choux (pronounced like "shoe") dough is. It's the same puffy, crispy, buttery dough used for eclairs, among other delicacies. So, for a foodie dinner party, I decided to try some gougeres (pronounced "goo-jairs") - delightful French cheese puffs.

Gougeres are kind of sweet (in the awesome sense, not the "not salty" sense). They look and sound all fancy (ooh, French!) but are essentially homemade puffy Cheez-Its. It took me about 15 minutes to make the dough and pipe out out the gougeres, and another 20 to bake. For foodie dinner party, I made a sweet potato mousse (just whip up one large cooked sweet potato with about a pint of heavy cream until soft peaks start to form) and used the same piping method described below to stuff the cooled gougeres (just make a small hole in the side and pipe in the mousse).

A couple of things I've learned as I've tried to recreate this dish. First, do NOT leave your dough to sit. It takes out all the puff of the puffy pastry. No good. I ended up with flat little disks and had to make a sort of "gougere whoopie pie" instead. Still cheesy and satisfying, but not what I was going for. Second, these things are good cold, but better warm. If you end up with some leftovers, reheat them in the oven to maintain the crispy exterior, instead of the microwave.

Note: I've been using the Cordon Bleu recipe for my dough, which calls for four eggs. However, I found that the dough came out a eggier than my liking. So, I've adjusted it to three eggs. Try it either way, and see which you prefer.

Gougeres

1 cup water
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter
1 cup flour
1 tsp salt
3-4 eggs (see note above)
1/3 cup shredded cheese (cheddar, parm, gruyere, etc)

1) Preheat oven to 400 degrees. In medium stock pot, bring butter and water to a boil. Once butter is melted, remove from heat and stir in flour until dough is smooth and shiny with a wooden spoon (whisks don't work in my experience). Add eggs slowly and mix until well incorporated and smooth. Return to low heat and stir a minute or so to dry off any excess moisture.

2) Let the mixture cool a bit, maybe 5 minutes. Grease a baking sheet in the meantime. Stir the cheese into the dough. Then transfer it to a gallon-size ziploc bag.

3) Cut a small bottom corner off, creating a hole about a centimeter wide. Pipe the dough onto the baking sheet (similar to squeezing a large tub of toothpaste or frosting something) to make dough into 1-inch dollops. The dough shouldn't spread too much while baking, so you can pack the gougeres in pretty tight.

4) Sprinkle the dough-dollops with any extra cheese and bake until golden brown, 15-20 minutes. Serve immediately.