"Pumpkin" vs. Pumpkin

Chickens, it is officially Fall and I am THRILLED.  Fall is my favorite season.  It means football, and falling leaves, and the disappearance of humidity related hair disasters.  It means a return of sweaters and boots and cute jackets.

It means ticking down to Thanksgiving, which, as you all know, is my singular most important day of worship at the altar of home cookery.  And for those of you who are new?  You might want to pop over HERE and check it out.

Having said that, there is one thing about Fall that I don't particularly appreciate.

"Pumpkin Spice".

The minute the heat breaks and the first cool breeze wafts through, the world seems to lose its mind and everything on the planet is suddenly "Pumpkin Spice" flavored.  Which, let us be clear, is almost never ACTUALLY flavored like pumpkin, but mostly flavored like spice.  Not good spice.  Not warming satisfying spice.  Bottom of the stale spice drawer spice, mixed with sawdust.

I like spice.  I like the autumnal heat of ground ginger, the kick of cinnamon, a touch of clove.  The subtleness of mace, transformative nutmeg.  And I like pumpkin.  Not a huge fan of pumpkin pie, but the flavor of pumpkin I find very pleasing.

But I do not need everything I put in my mouth from September through December to taste like a Yankee Candle.

Local bakeries making moist pumpkin breads and tender pumpkin muffins and crumbly pumpkin scones?  That contain actual pumpkin?  Go forth with your deliciousness.  Big corporations whose "food" is mostly made of multisyllabic chemicals?  Give it up.  That crap is disgusting.  And yes, I am looking at you Pringles.

Seriously?  Just no.

And if you combine the word Pumpkin with Coffee or Latte or Smoothie or any other beverage?  GACK.

I know I am about to get a flood of pumpkin spice latte fanatics who wait all year to gorge themselves on a cup full of creamy potpourri, but I can take it.  Bring your ire.  I will always contend that your taste buds are broken.  It won't make me love you any less.

But let me at least try to move you towards the light, may I?

Because pumpkin?  REAL actual grown on a vine pumpkin?  Can be very delicious.  It can even be delicious with some fresh spices.  It is the very essence of Fall.  But it isn't a "flavoring".

For starters, I give you my famous Pumpkin Soup recipe.  Anyone can do this, and the results are truly spectacular.  It is a terrific first course for Thanksgiving, a fun mugful on Halloween, and the perfect way to begin a Fall dinner party.

Pumpkin Soup

2 1/2 lbs peeled cubed seeded pie pumpkin or butternut squash (I have used both with equal success)

2 large cans pumpkin puree (29.5 oz organic…not pumpkin pie filling!)

3 boxes chicken stock or a gallon of homemade stock

1 pt. heavy cream

2 med. (or one large) yellow onions

1 stick butter

Fresh ground nutmeg

¼ t espelette pepper (ground or paste) (opt)

s/p to taste

In a very large stock pot, sauté onions in butter till soft. Add fresh and canned squash or pumpkin.  Put in enough chicken stock to cover by about 2 inches.  If you want to make it vegetarian, use water.  Cook over medium heat till very soft, about 35-45 minutes. Blend with immersion blender or in stand blender till very smooth.   For extra velvety soup strain thru chinois or fine strainer.  Add cream and season to taste with salt and pepper, espelette if you like and fresh nutmeg.

Freezes beautifully pre-cream, I often make a double batch and freeze half without the cream in it.  Is also delish without the cream if you want to be healthier J

Toppings:

½ c heavy cream, whipped

8-10 amarretti cookies, crumbled

Blend together and scoop on top of soup.

Have also topped with:

Crushed gingersnaps

Crème fraiche mixed with crystallized ginger

Candied orange zest

Toasted gingerbread croutons

Herbed Popcorn

Whipped cream blended with cranberry sauce

Crouton with melted asiago cheese

Fried sage leaves

Not convinced yet?  How about this:

Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Cookies

1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted and cooled

1/4 cup dark brown sugar

1/2 cup  granulated sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 large egg

6 Tablespoons pumpkin puree (not pumpkin pie filling)

1 and 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon baking soda

1 and 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

1/4 teaspoon ground ginger

1/4 teaspoon ground white pepper

1/2 cup (90 grams) dark chocolate chips or chunks tossed with 1 T flour to coat

Cream melted butter with the sugars until smooth. Whisk in the vanilla and pumpkin and egg until smooth. Set aside.

In a large bowl whisk all of the dry ingredients and spices together. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and mix together with a large spoon or rubber spatula. The dough will be very soft.  Fold in chocolate chips until well dispersed.  Cover the dough and chill for at least 3 hours, or up to 3 days.

Take the dough out of the refrigerator. Preheat the oven to 350F degrees. Line two large baking sheets with parchment paper or silicone baking mats.

Scoop 2 Tablespoons of dough for each cookie, roll into a ball between your hands (grease your hands if you like).  Flatten the dough balls because the cookies will only slightly spread in the oven. Bake the cookies for 8-10 minutes. They will look slightly underbaked at this stage, but as long as the chips look melted and there is a crispy outside, they should be finished, and you want them chewy.  As soon as you take the pan out of the oven, give it a sharp whack on the counter which will help flatten the cookies even more.  Allow the cookies to cool for at least 10 minutes on the cookie sheets before transferring to a wire rack.    Cool at least 30 minutes to an hour before eating.

Anyone else have any favorite pumpkin recipes to share?

Yours in Good Taste,

The Polymath

One Sauce to Rule Them All

Tis the season for meats and birds and sea creatures and veggies on the grill.  Quick weeknight dinners and weekend barbecues with pals.  And this?  Right here?  Is the one sauce you need to get you through.

In some ways it is a classic chimichurri, plenty of parsley and garlic and chili flakes, rich extra virgin olive oil blended into a thick paste that is the perfect accompaniment to anything you pull off the coals.
On the other hand, I have tamed some of the traditional "heavy on the garlic" blends for my own palate, which craves the brightness of lemon, the mild onion undertone of chives, and the mellow balance of fresh oregano.

You can adjust based on what you have, what you like, and how you plan to use it.  Working with seafood?  Bump up the lemon.  Lamb?  Swap out the oregano for thyme or rosemary.  Veggies? Change out the oregano for basil, smooth it with more oil or stir in some yogurt.

It is insanely versatile, and once you get the basics down, you can play with it all summer long.

Tonight it will get slathered on some perfect medium rare skirt steaks, along with some white beans with tomatoes and sautéed Tuscan kale.  A perfect quick summer dinner with pals.  

What is a go-to recipe for your summer dining?

Chimichurri

3 bunches flat leaf parsley, stems discarded

½ c loosely packed fresh oregano or marjoram leaves

½ c coarsely chopped chives

¼ c distilled white vinegar

zest of one lemon

2 T lemon juice

3 cloves garlic

1 T Kosher salt

1 t freshly ground black pepper

¾ teaspoon dried red pepper flakes

1 c extra virgin olive oil

Put all ingredients in a blender or food processor.

How do I love thee Vitamix, let me count the ways....

 Pulse until the leaves have broken down and it starts to resemble a paste.  Then turn on high and blend until you have a smooth puree.

Isn't it insane how that full bowl pureed down to so little?  But so much flavor!

 Store in fridge with plastic wrap touching the surface to prevent browning.  Best made the day before for flavors to blend, taste for salt and pepper before serving.

Wonderful on grilled meats and vegetables.  Blend a couple of tablespoons with more vinegar and oil for a salad dressing, or with sour cream for dip.  Use as a marinade.  A great appetizer is to grill hearty bread, spread with the chimichurri while still hot, then add sliced fresh mozzarella and summer tomatoes.

Makes about 2 cups

Yours in Good Taste,

The Polymath

Easiest. Pasta. Ever.

Chickens-

Did you ever avoid something because it seemed doomed to failure?   Even though the whole world is touting it's genius?  In fact, you avoid it BECAUSE the whole world is touting it's genius?

I am not a "go with the masses" kind of girl.  Often I look at the masses and think that the future of the human race is tentative at best, and add it as number 472 on my list of why I am delighted to be childless.  I'm not a crowdsource kind of girl.  Mostly because I don't really like crowds.  I like small dinner parties, and quiet bars where I can get a seat and hear the people I am with, and large festivals of any kind make me cringe.

I don't go to Yelp to recommend places to me, I go to my friends.  Family.  People I trust.  Because the unsolicited opinions of hundreds of twenty-somethings don't hold any water with me.  Especially since we all know that a significant number of the positive reviews are from friends and family of the proprietor and the same number of negative ones are from the friends and family of the competition.

The more everyone talks about how AMAZING something is, the more skeptical I get. I have not yet made Jim Lahey's No Knead Bread.  I know, I know, since 2008 every cook worth their salt has made this loaf, adapted it, made a gluten free version, I just haven't done it.  Partially because I'm not that into bread baking, finding that the best bread I can make from scratch doesn't come close to the perfection of at least seven nearby bakeries, and therefore seems a waste of time.  Partially because we are low-carb around here, by medical necessity and not choice, and if the bread is disappointing we will be pissed we wasted carbs on it, and if it is amazing, it will be a horrible temptation.

So you can imagine my reluctance when everyone on the interwebs started going insane for Martha Stewart's One-Pan Pasta recipe.  "It only takes ten minutes!"  "It is creamy and delicious!"  "Best pasta I have ever made!"  Hmmm.  Piffle.  I doubted it.  For many reasons.

One?  While I have some appreciation for Martha, with misgivings, I am not my bestie Jen, whose Martha-inspired life changing year is documented hilariously in her latest The Tao Of Martha, which, if you have not yet read, I highly recommend and not just because I make a cameo appearance or two.  But I have found over the years that many of her recipes, um, don't work that well.  They need tweaking and changing at a level that means I might as well have started from scratch and made up my own.  When they work, they are great.  But seven times out of ten?  Meh.

Two?  See above re: No Knead Bread.  We eat pasta about only once or twice a month.  It is our special treat and we take it seriously.  Wasting a precious pasta night on something doomed to mediocrity?  A crime.

Three?  Pasta in its usual format isn't that hard.  Not every sauce takes three days.  I can usually pull together a scrumptious homemade sauce in the ten minutes it takes for the pasta to cook.  Granted, it takes two pots instead of one, but that is why the good lord invented the dishwasher.

However, sometimes, your Polymath is wrong.  And boy was I wrong on this one.  This pasta?  Is everything that the world said it is.  Easy, fast, DELICIOUS.  And while I did tweak the recipe the tiniest bit, you can actually have complete success with the original.  Point for Martha.

I didn't even plan to make it.  We have a spectacular farmer's market in our neighborhood every Sunday.  We love it.  About half terrific purveyors of fabulous ingredients, and half people preparing yummy to eat on the spot.  Carne asada tacos.  Apple cider zeppole.  Grilled cheese, traditional British banger sandwiches, porchetta...we go, have a moveable brunch, pick up some flowers and produce, and head home.  Pretty perfect.  So when they announced they were starting a weekly night market on Wednesdays we were stoked!  Especially since we are often out of town on Sunday mornings and miss the market.  We made plans to walk over the first night, excited to eat dinner there and grab some goodies for the week.  And we have hopes that someday that will be possible.  As it was, that first night, we discovered a booth playing Shakespeare, three places to sign petitions or donate to local charities, two places to buy baked goods, one place to buy frozen sausage, and one tiny stand with produce.  Mostly kale.  It took us longer to walk there than to walk the market and we left within 4 minutes, starving and disappointed.  And then I remembered the pasta recipe.  We always have tomatoes and basil around in the summer.  And onion isn't hard to come by.  Loads of pasta in the pantry.  And if it worked, we'd have dinner faster than if we ordered something in.  So I gave it a shot.

And it worked like a dream.  Charming Suitor loved it and demanded that we put it in regular rotation for our rare pasta nights.  I was truly blown away by the results, and made mental apologies to the masses for snarkily assuming they were idiots.

I left out the garlic in my recipe because I think the flavor gets a little insipid, and I wanted the other flavors to shine.  In winter, I might add it back in.  I also found that depending on your brand of pasta, local humidity etc. you may need to adjust the water.  I used Barilla the first time and the water was perfect.  But I used DeCecco the second time and needed more.  This is easy to do on the fly, so no worries.  I upped the tomato quotient a bit since they are in season and amazing, so I wanted more tomato flavor to balance the onion.  You can see the original recipe through the link above, and I encourage you to try both her way and mine and enjoy the equally lovely results.

I'm still waffling on the No Knead Bread thing, though.

One Pot Pasta

Adapted from Martha Stewart

12 oz linguine

16 oz cherry or grape tomatoes, halved or quartered

1 medium onion, thinly sliced

Two cloves garlic, sliced thinly (optional, I leave it out)

½ t red pepper flakes (you can omit if you don't want any heat or add more if you like things spicy)

2 sprigs basil

2 T olive oil

4 ½ c water (may need more)

salt and pepper to taste

Grated parmesan, chopped fresh basil, and extra virgin olive oil to garnish.

In large straight-sided skillet, combine all ingredients and bring to boil over high heat.  

Boil, stirring frequently with tongs until pasta is al dente and water has nearly evaporated.  If you taste for al dente and it isn’t there, but the liquid is almost gone, just add a little more water, maybe a half a cup and keep going.  The dish is done when the pasta is cooked and the sauce has reduced so that the dish is not soupy, but not completely dry. 

Remove basil sprigs and discard.  Season to taste with salt and pepper, garnish with grated parm, torn fresh basil and a drizzle of oil.

Serves 4

Stay Tuned

Hello Chickens!  Hope your summer is gearing up to be a good one.  Wanted to let you know that I am taking a short break to finish the edits on my new book, OUT TO LUNCH, which will be coming to your favorite bookseller this coming December.

Isn't this cover the cutest????

Anyhoo, since you will like it so much better if the narrative flows and there aren't spelling mistakes and the characters don't drone on too much, I am focusing all my energy on my edits and will be back when they are done.  Have some fun summer giveaways and recipes to come, not to worry!

In the meantime, if you need something to read, you may have noticed that my bestie Jen Lancaster has a new one hitting the shelves this week.  THE TAO OF MARTHAis her best one yet, (and yes, yours truly makes an appearance or two), all about her year of living by Martha Stewarts dictates.

Also pretty awesome cover, no????

Anyhoo, this fab summer read drops tomorrow, so if you order it today, you'll have it in a flash!  And be sure to check out Jen's tour schedule, since she might be in a city near you.

Back to the grind, see you next week.

Yours in Good Taste,

The Polymath

Winners Announced

Congrats to Riann and Morningstar for winning the Oxo ice cream scoops!  Please email me your shipping addresses to staceyballisinfo (at) gmail (dot) com and I will get them out to you.  And thanks to everyone for sharing their guilty pleasure foods and movies, I feel like I have a new clan.

I'm now going to have a bagel with butter and sliced dill pickles.  Out loud.  Because my Chickens make me brave enough to Own. My. Crazy.

Stay tuned for more fun giveaways...

Yours in Good Taste,
The Polymath

Guilty Pleasures

Guilty pleasures are much on my mind of late.  Charming Suitor and I started a Guilty Pleasure Movie Series with some friends of ours, about once or twice a month we have dinner and a movie night.  We alternate who gets to choose the movie.  The rules are, it has to be a guilty pleasure, not one of those movies in the pantheon of great films...nope, we are talking about those movies that if you are flipping channels and spot it, you have to stop.

Some of the movies we have watched so far include Ghostbusters, Wayne's World, Addicted to Love, Face Off, Lost in America, Airplane, Valley Girl, Modern Romance, Scott Pilgrim vs. The World.  Some really hold up surprisingly well. (Wayne's World)  Some REALLY do not.  (Valley Girl)  But many discussions have been brought up about the idea of the "guilty pleasure".  And how much the guilt and pleasure part are intrinsically connected, that the nature of the enjoyment is in direct correlation to how sort of sheepish we would be if people knew about it.  It feels almost like getting away with something, stealing a couple of hours for a less than stellar movie that, for whatever reason, holds a special place in your heart.

The same thing happens with food.  I love really good food.  Top quality.  I try very hard to stay away from processed foods full of unpronounceables.  I buy meat, poultry and eggs from either a local farmer,  or a butcher I trust.  Charming Suitor and I mostly make our own lunches, cook dinners about 5 nights a week, and go to decent restaurants or dine at friends homes for the rest.  We are lucky that even our last minute take-out options are pretty great nearby restaurants, a small family-owned Italian place, a terrific Japanese/Sushi house, an amazing Filipino soul food place, an organic rotisserie chicken joint, awesome Middle-Eastern, the best Thai food in Chicago.  I would say that 98% of what I put in my mouth is made from amazing fresh seasonal ingredients by either myself or skilled chefs.

And the 2%?

Total, unadulterated crap.

Yup.  The guilty pleasure foods.  The ones that you would never admit to in public.  The ones you don't even buy at your regular grocery store, hiding them under the QTips at Walgreens, or at a little convenience store off the beaten path.  The ones you remember from college or early childhood, that evoke amazing sense memories, but are generally really bad for you.

I can give you fantastic recipes all year long, recommend delicious restaurants, but just because I am mostly devoted to great quality eats, I am not immune to the guilty pleasure.

Ramen noodles, so full of sodium that it is amazing they don't come with a defibrillator.  Mac and Cheese, of either the neon orange Kraft or mushy pallid Stouffer's ilk, each carrying its own very particular type of delight.  Speaking of Stouffer's, the spinach souffle still holds a weird little place in my heart.  God help me, Buddig sliced turkey...not the actual turkey breast, the blended and reformed turkey PRODUCT.  That plastic dip made with velveeta and ro-tel canned tomatoes and green chilies.  SPAGHETTIOS for the love of Mike, those stupid squishy O pasta bits floating in that sickly sweet barely-tastes-of-tomatoes sauce.  Preferably served with bread and butter for sauce dunking.  White bread.  (With real butter,TYVM. I may occasionally walk on the dark side, but margarine does not pass these lips.)

I know.  It is shameful.  These are horrible horrible things that can barely be considered food.  They provide way too much carb, fat, salt and chemicals and nearly no actual nutritional value.  But for whatever reason, once a year or so, they call to me. Usually when I am in the last month before book deadline and any type of real cooking seems to use too much bandwidth, and I'm in need of not only quick food, but also comfort.  I seem to revert right back to college finals eating, minus the Jeana's steak and cheese subs and the Chinese delivery that weirdly came with poofy kaiser style rolls for free, but made you order white rice.

Unlike movies, which we have discovered can be shared with varying levels of enjoyment with friends, guilty pleasure foods sort of have to be eaten alone.  You can't ask people over for dinner and serve them this stuff, they would never come back.  And unless your significant other shares your particular guilty pleasure foods (CS does not.  But I don't get his Popeye's chicken thing either, so we are even) you are stuck.

But there is a certain amount of psychological benefit to naming and claiming your guilty pleasures.  To owning them, acknowledging them, and indulging them occasionally in moderation without beating yourself up about it.

So I am declaring this Name Your Pleasure week.  And since Ice Cream is a pleasure sometimes guilty (whole pint of Chubby Hubby in one sitting out of the container while watching Real Housewives) and sometimes not (demure little scoop of organic gelato with a single wafer cookie and a sprinkle of fresh berries), I've got two Oxo Good Grips ice cream scoops to give away.

Comment below with your top guilty pleasure foods and movies by 11:59 CST on Tues May 14, and I will pick two of you to win these awesome scoopers.

Only rule?  No judging here, Chickens, we all have our stuff.  Please keep comments positive and supportive.  And if someone names something you love too, let them know so they don't feel so alone.

Yours in (mostly) Good Taste,
The Polymath

Consider the Artichoke

When I was growing up, artichokes were a mysterious vegetable, closed and secretive, and impossibly elegant.  They were a thing of myth that I read about in books, descriptions of lavish Victorian dinner parties where they were served hot, dipped in clarified butter, or cold at luncheon, stuffed with crabmeat.

Every once in a great while we would have them at home, always served with butter for dipping, and maybe a wedge of lemon.  They were festive and delicious and rare.  More often than not, my experience with artchokes was in the form of canned, mixed with all sorts of unctuous cheeses and mayonnaise and secret ingredients that my godmother used to make insanely good hot artichoke dip, served with cocktail rye.  I could eat a vat of the stuff.

The canned versions showed up on salads, when we started getting more creative at home, but those whole, fresh, steamed beauties were still a rarity.

There are certain moments I remember vividly from my childhood that imprinted and made me make early decisions about how I was going to handle my business as a grown up.  I remember the old black and white movie my dad and I watched one sunday afternoon, where a guest arrived unexpectedly at the home of the heroine and was offered a drink.  "Champagne, please." the guest said without a second thought, and the lady of the house  went to fetch a bottle of bubbly.  The idea that someone could just ask for and RECEIVE champagne, on a random weekday afternoon and not on New Years or at a party seemed insanely fabulous, and I swore I would always have bubbly at the ready when I was a grown up, and not only drink it on special occasions.  And you can ask any of my friends about "Tuesday Champagne" at my house, it is a promise I kept.

Some of my vows weren't the smartest.  I hate coming home to a dark house.  Years of parental admonitions to "Shut the lights off!" when leaving rooms made me mutter under my breath that when I had my own house I would leave the lights on all the time.  And I do.  Compulsively.  All over the house.  Makes my poor Charming Suitor crazy, and he is forever shutting lights off behind me and tsking.

Artichokes are like that for me.  The Champagne of vegetables.  I always loved them so much, and hated that they were relegated to special occasions, that they were so infrequent.  So when I started cooking for myself, one of the first things I wanted to master, in addition to a perfect roasted chicken, was the simple, steamed, artichoke.  Despite their look of vegetal armor, the little spikes that draw blood if you aren't careful, the furry choke that threatens to live up to its name if you accidentally try and eat it, artichokes are simpler than you think.

Buy them fresh, look for ones that feel slightly heavy for their size and have tightly compacted leaves.  Artichokes are best between May and July, but whenever you spot them, just give a squeeze to see what kind of shape they are in.  The leaves should almost squeak under your hands.  And for every two artichokes, be sure you have one lemon handy.

First off, use a sharp serrated knife for your trim work.  These prickly thistles love to roll around on you and you need something that grips.  I use an 8 inch serrated bread knife.  If you are prepping them for a dinner party and aren't going to cook them right away, make a large bowl of acidulated water (juice of one lemon or 2 T white vinegar to every 4 c water) for storing up to 6 hours.  If you are prepping for cooking right away, you can just rub all the cut edges with a half a lemon to prevent browning.

Slice off the stem end flush.  I know the restaurants love to peel the stems, but frankly it is annoying and you don't get enough extra meat to make it worth your while.  You want to be able to work fast and this is the best way.  Using your serrated knife and cutting away from you, trim the hard covering off of the bottom in about one inch sections until the whole thing is exposed, you'll take most of the outer leaves of as a result, which is a good thing.  You just start at the center and slice outward, all the way around.  Any leaves remaining that look sad or brown, you can just snap off.  Then put the thing on its side and slice the top off, taking all the prickles away in one fell swoop.  Don't forget to either rub the edges with lemon or drop in your water bath, or you will have ugly brown bottoms and leaves.

To cook, place the artichokes bottom side up on a steamer basket over 2 inches of cold water in a large pot.  Don't boil them, they'll get waterlogged.  If you don't have a steamer basket, turn a colander over and prop them on there.  Cover and cook on high about 30-40 minutes until the bottoms give easily to the poke of a fork.  uncover and let sit there upside down for 10 minutes.  You can serve hot or cold, but my fave is room temp, all their flavors really come to the front then.  And while usually I would not shy away from any butter-delivery-device, I don't do the butter dunk with my artichokes.  I make a pungent and thick vinaigrette with shallots, lemon juice, dijon mustard, capers, and extra virgin olive oil, going far heavier on the lemon and dijon than I would for delicate lettuces.  The acid brings out the richness of the artichoke meat instead of competing.  But you should dunk however you like.

The best part is that artichokes are very good for you, low in calories (about 50 per), high in fiber.  When they are in season, Charming Suitor and I eat as many as we can...I will make 8 at a time and keep them in the fridge for snacking or quick easy lunches.  Artichokes and a roasted chicken is our idea of a heavenly spring or summer dinner.  And nothing goes with it better than a crisp glass of champagne.  Especially if it is Tuesday.

Yours in Good Taste,
The Polymath