Ode to Anna Ingeborg Kransell

Anna's cottage painted in 1942 by Alex Johansson

The year is 1967. My little rear is firmly planted on the heavy, white slatted chairs on the back porch of my maternal grandmother Anna’s summer cottage. 

We’ve spent the morning shimmying up and down apple trees, careened along the sidewalks in an old baby carriage, and played in that secret spot deep under the old pine tree where chartreuse wild sorrel grows. My sister and I pull off clover-shaped leaves, sucking on them until the tartness covers our teeth to squeekiness. We’ve played hide-n-seek among the soft fronds of waist-high chervil that grows atop her compost, stopping only to chew the sweet licorice flavored seedpods.

Hunger tugs at my stomach and I can hear the crackle of dry birch logs burning in her cast iron Husqvarna stove and the sizzle as another pat of butter slides across the hot pan. She pours a thin stream of batter, deftly tilting a heavy pan coated with the patina of decades of lovingly cooked meals. Her delicately wrinkled hands remind me of crepe paper. 
In one fluid motion she’s flipped the pancake over. Edges bubble and pop, as lacy craters of crispness form around the rim.

My grandfather built this tiny house in the 1920s, and rather than steal wall space for a door opening, the back porch was reached by going around the house and up 3 or 4 steps. 

So, Mormor Anna keeps her kitchen window open while frying and every few minutes out through the window comes a spatula draped with a paper-thin, golden pancake.

“Who’s turn is it?”, she asks in Swedish.

“Mine!!!! “, I yell. Of course.

Devoured in 2 seconds flat, sprinkled with sparkly sugar crystals and more butter. Sometimes rolled into a log, doubled over and shoved into my eager mouth in one yummy buttery bite. Waiting for what seems like an eternity, then finally my turn again.  This time I slather it with raspberry jam from berries she picked in her patch that morning, or should I take the tarter woodsy-tasting lingonberries? 


And always the pancakes came with the admonishment: "Chew them before you swallow or you will get a stomach ache!!!!" Did we heed? Never.

I still think of her every single time I make these. 

Recipe for Anna’s Swedish Pancakes

Serves 2 

(with some leftovers, maybe)

1 egg

2/3 cup flour

1 1/4 cups milk

2 tablespoons melted butter

pinch of salt
butter for frying

Melt butter in a mixing bowl, add milk, salt and egg, whisk in flour. Let batter sit for 15 minutes or so to swell and meld.

Fry in butter using your favorite cast iron pan. And by the way, did you know that using these pans actually provides an extra dose of iron?

Addendum: A few days after posting this an email arrives from my sister with the above picture. She has the very pan of Anna's. It has traveled far from where it began its use and now meets more multi-cultural ingredients. But it is still loved,  still used and still cherished. Sometimes life is so very special.

The Grass is Greener...

I have to confess: Beef is not high on my list of culinary delights.

That said, on my wanderings through the rolling back country of Cecil County, it's hard to ignore the hand-painted signs perched atop white picket fences proclaiming "Grass Fed Beef for Sale." This is Amish country, where farms are run the old fashioned way. Barns are big and white, with doors constantly propped open, fresh air and sunlight streams inside. The farm house itself is set back a bit. Next to the home a laundry line holds gingham cotton dresses and simple mens britches all pinned in tidy rows.


As I pull in front of the little shed-like farm stand chickens scatter and cackle in protest then settle back into their ceaseless dinosaurian-footed scratching at the dusty soil. Beyond the barn long runs of weathered stockade fencing rim pastures tinged with only the slightest bit of green on this early Spring afternoon. The cattle are a deep velvety black, still carrying their thick winter pelts full of whorls and tufts. They look happy, they have wide open spaces and sun on their furry backs. This is a far cry from the hideous conditions most cattle endure in this country.


Inside the farm stand the side wall brims with luscious dairy products. My hands seem not to be my own as my basket fills up with not one, but three kinds of milk, butter, eggs and heavy cream the color of dogwood blossoms and topped with a thick cap of solid cream.

Turning my attention to the freezers holding icy blocks of meat I choose two small filets.  In my head I'm thinking: "It will be a test,  I probably won't like it much."

 I say no more.

Heat a cast iron pan to very high temperature, season the meat with salt & pepper, add a small amount of vegetable oil to the pan, sear meat for just a few minutes per side until it releases from the pan. It should have a nice brown crust. Remove from the pan, cover with foil, and set meat aside to rest. This will give you a rare-to-medium-rare steak.


While it was resting I chopped Crimini mushrooms, a garlic clove, and a quarter of an onion and sauteed it until tender (about 10 minutes). In went 1/2 cup of the heavy cream followed by a handful of chopped parsley and 1/2 cube of mushroom broth (check your local Italian deli), some fresh black pepper and 10 or so pink peppercorns. This reduced for another 5 minutes or so.

Oh, and those are yellow cherry tomatoes on top.


Simple, fast, delicious! Or, as my teenager put it: "OMG, THIS IS AWESOME!!!!"


If you are looking for a wine to go with this dish I would try a Montepulciano or a Malbec with some kick.

The Art(ist) of Quiche

This is Sue...

 ...carrier of one of the most beautiful of souls and artist extraordinaire.

Among  many other things she paints food.

She is also one of my dearest friends, always there to cheer me on, encourage me, steer me straight when I veer too far afield. She oftenmost comes bearing gifts large and small...a bag of cookies, a handful of lavender from her garden, a soap, or a delightfully scented candle. 

We could laugh, cry, and yap together for hours on end, but sadly we get swept up in the daily grind, and all too seldom do we spend time together. 

On Wednesday morning she invited me over for breakfast with the words: "Don't bring anything, I'll have something for us." While the coffee sputtered and brewed over dancing blue gas flames,  she reached into the oven  to pull out a golden-hued savory quiche.

My fork sank through fluffy tender eggs, hitting blue-black chunks of kalamata olives, crimson tendrils of sweet peppers, crumbles of briny feta cheese....pure bliss.

Later that day I asked for the recipe via email, and this is verbatim what I got. I wouldn't change a word or ingredient.

Sue's Quiche Recipe

"I wing it every time! i scrambled eggs( 7) , splash of milk, sliced and drained small can olives, mixed all in bowl, poured into pie dish, crumble feta on top so that each slice as a taste of feta....i should have sliced basil in at same time but......cook at 350 till you realize you have been talking too much and almost burned quiche!!!!!...(sometimes i will mix in a dollop of skim ricotta cheese for creamier consistency)..."


 

Flights of Fancy

A few weekends ago on a sunny, yet still rather chilly and windy end-of-winter-day it felt right to head to the sandy Atlantic coast of Delaware with the aim of sampling the frothy brews of  Dogfish Head.

While the main brewery resides in Milton,  my target was just south in Rehoboth Beach where they have a microbrewery and restaurant combined, a place to eat lunch and sample seasonal, on tap only experimental brews originating in their Small-Batch Brewing Program. 

So, here's where the first bit of learning came in. Never had I heard the word "flight" in terms of drinks before. Birds or airplanes--yes, but not for beverages. Turns out the answer is simple; a flight is a grouping of similar objects, like a flight of stairs or a flight of geese. So, live, drink a 4 oz sampler, and learn. 

Selecting a range from the darkest chocolatey stout to the palest amber, all with melodious names like Bitches Brew, Namaste, Little Hoppy, Bricolage and El Diablo Verde, the tasting began. Hands down my favorite was El Diablo.

Jalapeno and cilantro sounded like an over-tweaked, pretentious flavoring for a beer,  but it turned out to be pleasingly bitter with a luscious green bite, heady herbed notes and a hint of citrus. Time to order a full-sized glass.

As for the food, well, beer calls for a salty, crunchy complement. Hence, a fried pickle seemed in order. Eating something like that makes me feel infinitely decadent, but a pairing of briny sourness  and crispy golden batter is so irresistible. It came with a mustard dipping sauce to be ignored.

Overall the food was mediocre. A nondescript, batter-fried, fish taco was bland and dull. But, the rice and black bean side was savory, spiced just right, and packed with cilantro which went so well with my drink that in the end I abandoned the taco in favor of the veggies. 

Crab cakes came two-to-a-plate with fries. Big and plump-looking, but again disappointing with too much filler. Once you've had the real thing elsewhere it's hard to measure up. And, already full of beer and pickles, could I possibly need more calories?

Namaste beer in the background, flavored with lemongrass and coriander, and also a winner.

Ah, yes, the road out from Rehoboth is lined with outlet stores...and there was that simple, sleek beige dress at Banana Republic that somehow, just somehow, came home with me. Perhaps not one to wear whilst sampling beer and pickles...have to figure out which foodie event it works for.

When Life Gives you Lemons...

My conscience plagues me when I fall for berries that have traveled first class on an airplane to get to my store....but how could I resist these glistening sweet-tart jewels when that very morning I had been seduced by descriptions (on one of my favorite food blogs: Food 52) of a meltingly tender butter crust and luscious lemon cream?

The butter crust was something new to me, one that is cooked in a pot rather than cutting little icy cubes of fat into cold flour. I modified this recipe slightly, making the first step stove top rather than in the oven.

Paule Caillat's Brown Butter Tart Crust

 Makes 8 1/2" or 21 cm tart shell

• 6 tablespoons unsalted butter
• A slightly mounded cupful flour
• 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
• 3 tablespoons water
• 1 tablespoon sugar
• pinch of salt 

 

1. Heat the oven to 410° F (210° C).
2. In a small thick-bottomed pot, combine the butter, oil, water, salt, and sugar.
3. Place on stove until the mixture is boiling and the butter starts browning.
4. Remove from heat, add flour quickly, until it forms a ball. Keep adding flour, one spoonful at the time, until it pulls off the sides of the bowl.
5. Once the dough is cool enough to touch, press it in to the tart mold evenly with your fingertips.
6. Pierce the bottom with a fork, line the sides with the back of the fork to form ridges.
7. Bake at 410° F (210° C) for 15 minutes or until the crust is light brown and shows fine cracks.
8. Remove carefully from oven. It is ready for filling.

While the crust cooled I turned my attention to the filling:

Tartine Bakery's Lemon Cream

 Makes about 2 1/2 cups

• 1/2 cup + 2 tablespoons lemon juice (Meyer or regular)
• 3 large eggs
• 1 large egg yolk
• 3/4 cup sugar
• Pinch of salt
• 1 cup unsalted butter

1. Pour water to a depth of about 2 inches into a saucepan, place over medium heat, and bring to a simmer.
2. Combine the lemon juice, whole eggs, yolk, sugar, and salt in a stainless steel bowl that will rest securely in the rim of a saucepan over, not touching, the water. (Never let the egg yolks and sugar sit together for more than a moment without stirring; the sugar will cook the yolks and turn them granular.) Place the bowl over the saucepan and continue to whisk until the mixture becomes very thick and registers 180° F on a thermometer. This will take 10 to 12 minutes. If you don't have or trust your thermometer, don't worry. It should thicken to the point that your whisk leaves a trail through the curd.
3. Remove the bowl from over the water and let cool to 140° F, stirring from time to time to release the heat.
4. Meanwhile, cut butter into 1-tablespoon (15-ml) pieces. When the cream is ready, leave it in the bowl if using an immersion blender, or pour it into a countertop blender. With the blender running, add the butter 1 tablespoon at a time, blending after each addition until incorporated before adding the next piece. The cream will be pale yellow and opaque and quite thick.
5. You can use the cream immediately, or pour it into a storage container with a tight-fitting lid and refrigerate for up to 5 days. To use after refrigeration, if necessary, gently heat in a stainless steel bowl set over simmering water until it has softened, whisking constantly.

While the curd cooled I melted some nice dark chocolate to paint on the crust, creating a barrier between it and the curd to prevent sogginess. Unfortunately I overdid it a bit, so lesson learned: make it quite a thin layer or you will have to use a great deal of force to break through the chocolate when cutting the tart.

Once  the curd was cool I spread it over the hardened chocolate, followed by the berries. Arrange free-form or geometrically, this is where you get to have fun, channel your inner child and play a bit.

The final touch is to heat apricot preserves with a splash of water in a small bowl in the microwave. Gently drizzle it over the berries to create a gleaming seal and let the tart set up for a hour or so in the fridge.

Nary a slice made it to the office, much to the chagrin of my co-workers...next time, I promise!

Tango with A Pink Fish

At my local Korean grocery store I longingly glance at the exquisitely laid out fish resting upon its glacial bed. Although a bit pricey, the salmon is worth every penny and every molecule of Omega-3 it provides. Being Swedish, my favorite way to prepare it is also one of the simplest, aka Gravlax. All you will need is:

• 1.5-2 lbs Salmon Fillet
• 4 tbsp Sugar
• 3 tbsp Salt
• 1 tsp Pepper
• 1/2 bunch of Fresh Dill
• A piece of foil
• And two days of foresight (the trickiest part)

Line a pan with a generous length of foil. I often use my 9"x9" glass brownie pan if using the square center portion of the fillet. Mix the dry ingredients in a small bowl, pat the mixture down onto the surface of  the salmon, cover with whole dill sprigs, wrap the foil over the fish. Weigh it down with anything heavy like a brick, a rock, or canned goods, stick it in the fridge and go do something else for 2-4 days.

During this time the salt and sugar will works its chemical magic, curing the fish until it takes on a luscious semi-opaque pink hue. Remove it from the pan, scraping away excess spices, lay it on a cutting board. I use my largest bread knife to cut nearly paper thin slivers. 

Tradition calls for a mustard-dill sauce (recipe below) and I really should have had tiny boiled new potatoes on the plate, but alas such little golden starchy wonders are a rarity in this part of the world.

Mustard Dill Sauce

3 Tbsp Dijon Mustard

1 Tbsp Sugar

1 Tbsp White Wine Vinegar

1/2 cup Vegetable Oil

1/2 Cup Chopped Fresh Dill

Mix mustard, sugar, vinegar until smooth.

Slowly add the oil in a fine stream whilst whisking until the sauce emulsifies into a creamy mixture.

Adjust seasoning, add salt and pepper as needed.

Gently mix in the dill.

Charred Choy

Feeling that the time had come for another culinary experiment, I decided to deviate from the tried and true method of cooking my bok choy in a wok.

 

There is that special, slightly singed, flavor in Chinese food at times and I wanted to try to replicate it. But, without a 300,000 BTU stove what to do? Eying the grill, I thought, why not?  While the rice was cooking away inside, I watched over the grill. A few minutes later the bok choy had taken on a lovely char.

 

Carrying it back into my kitchen, I chopped the green into chunky bits, added oil to my biggest frying pan, followed by a handful of garlic and ginger and the bok choy.

While the vegetable wilted nestled over its little layer of garlic and ginger I drained and cubed a tray of soft tofu.

 

And although oyster sauce would have been my first choice, mine was long gone.  A quick check in the pantry revealed Hoisin and black bean sauce, a few tablespoons of which worked fine to add a bit of salty-sweetness.

 

From start to finish it took roughly 20 minutes to make dinner tonight, leaving plenty of time to enjoy the meal outside. As the sun began to dip I inhaled the deep earthy smells of Spring...I do so love the Spring.

“The French cook; we open tins.”

John Galsworthy's quote belies the beauty that can exist in tins.

Sometimes I  fall for the pure esthetic of objects. And sometimes the beauty foreshadows a tasty treasure. Such is the case with these various types of powdered paprikas. Some are sweet, others smokey. Add them with abandon to chicken, fajitas, eggs, or chili. Experiment, play, taste, and taste again. But, before you do, take a moment to gaze at the lovely tins and imbibe the artwork.

Skirt Weather

Perhaps the weather gods are taunting me, but who cares? Today was a no-socks, no-worries kind of day.

Skirt steak is an inexpensive, tasty, easy to cook cut of beef. I made a rub of cumin, smoked paprika, oregano, salt, pepper and ancho powder (Penzey's Spices has a great selection), added a couple of tablespoons of oil to make a thick paste,  and smeared the spice-oil mix on both sides of the meat.

There was a most satisfying sizzle when cool meat met fiery metallic slats. As the smokey scent of searing spices and succulent meat wafted across the road, spandex-clad bikers and joggers passing by slowed their pace, nostrils flaring.

Skirt steak needs no more than a few minutes on each side. Remove from the heat and let it rest on a plate, tented with foil, for 15 minutes. Slice it against the grain.
With it we had broccoli, quickly sauteed in garlic and oil. Sweet potatoes are a perfect compliment too. If, by chance, there are any left overs skirt steak makes awesome fajitas...but that will be a recipe for another day.

Beer Days Ahead

Awoke to a chilly early March morning, but the Sun and Earth had other plans. By day's end we are close to 70 degrees making me long for dinners outside at the garden table, and a cold beer.

I must have sensed it as I wandered the aisles of Linwood Liquors a few days ago, inexorably drawn from wines to the twinkling cache of emeralds and ambers in the beer cooler.

In my mind, I was picturing something dark and seriously hoppy, with a nice bite and deep, rich flavor. My last brew sampler came with fantastic names like "Old Scratchy" and "Raging Bitch". Brewers have a warped sense of humor, and I play right along.  Scanning from left-to-right and top-to-bottom, there, disguised behind a rather nondescript label, I spotted "Dirty Bastard" from Founders. How could I possibly resist?

This is not one for the faint of heart, at 8.5% it has a kick.  Now all I have to do is figure out what to pair it with...crab cakes would be fabulous.

Interesting article about this very beer in today's paper.

Not so darling clementines

Clementine creation courtesy of Gustaf Olsen

In the early winter months I anxiously await the arrival of the first wooden boxes of this citrus gem. Underneath optically tricky orange netting little easy-to-peel orbs of sweetness nestle. Each wedge waiting to be separated from the next, the best ones even having individual tear-drop purses of juice inside every segment.


I adore them. But now, alas, as clementine season draws to its close they drop in size and sweetness.  Maybe it's a good thing, having them slowly fade away rather than abruptly stop at their juiciest best. Enjoying food at its seasonal apex brings so much more delight than a constant dull flow of substandard hard-forced items. Until next winter, darlings.....

Shrimp with spinach and garlic

This dish contains less than 5 main ingredients and takes under 15 minutes to go from fridge to tabletop.

There are some leafy greens that never cease to amaze me, spinach being one of them. In minutes,  seemingly enormous piles of this delicate green wilt down to a mere nothing. Tonight I'm using tender adult leaves, somewhere in between baby spinach and the full-grown version. If you choose baby spinach you will have to increase the amount even further.  Estimate one full bunch per person (see quarter for scale in the picture above). Spinach adores growing in sandy soil, so make sure to rinse well. Eating sand doesn't feel good. Frozen spinach works fine too.

Here is what you will need:

• Spinach
• Shrimp
• Garlic
• Olive Oil
• Salt & Pepper
• Carbohydrate (that's Israeli Couscous in the little blue bowl)

A  nice deep frying pan comes in handy, allowing the spinach to be smushed down all at one, otherwise work in batches. Sometimes spinach releases a large amount of water, if this happens just drain off the excess before adding the shrimp.


Peel shrimp as needed (save peels, see below). Heat a few tablespoons of oil in the pan, add thinly sliced garlic, then the spinach and let it wilt for a few minutes. Add shrimp, and as soon as you see the edges turning opaquely pink flip shrimp over, turn off the flame and add a lid. The shrimp will continue to cook in the residual heat. Check after 3-4 minutes, season with salt and pepper, add a fresh drizzle of olive oil and it is done!

Serve with a starch of your choice: Israeli or regular cous-cous; pasta; polenta; cornbread; or even a crusty French bread.

If you want to be naughty, sprinkle with  crispy, salty cubes of fried pancetta or bacon. A sprinkling of hot pepper flakes and/or lemon zest adds more zip.

And, now for the peels: resist the temptation to just toss them. Instead, place them in a small pot, add just enough water to cover, and boil under a lid for about 10-20 minutes. The yield will be a pale pink liquid, delicately perfused with shrimp aroma and flavor. I pour it into a plastic container, labeled with the date it was made and keep it frozen until I need some stock for any seafood dish.

The simple things...

Sometimes the simplest things are the best.

 

Yesterday, the sweetest people took me to to Enzo's Market in Fort Lee (a post dedicated to Enzo's will come in the future). Tucked away in a totally non-descript strip mall atop the Palisades Cliffs  lies a hidden gem. Behind Enzo's counters magic happens in the form of handmade, silken white balls of mozarella and the best chicken parmesan I've ever had. Coming back home this afternoon from the gym, with a stomach begging to be fed after a  particularly grueling workout, there was the cheese gently resting in its brine, handfuls of tender aromatic basil leaves, gem-colored cherry tomatoes and crusty bread. A quick drizzle of balsamic, extra virgin olive oil and a pinch of salt and there was the best lunch! I had to remind myself to slow down and take a picture before it was all gone.

Roasting Peppers 101

One of the final days of February and the sun was warming the ground, releasing all kinds of wonderful earthy smells and inspiring me to wander out to my grill and revive it after its winter rest.
Roasted peppers are so versatile: add to salads, soups, sandwiches or in this case...I had a hankering for lasagna.
Set the grill to medium-high to high and put the peppers straight on (no oil or seasoning!) and let them really char and blister for about 5 minutes on each side. Keep turning until all sides are seriously blackened. 
Then, unceremoniously plop them into a paper-plastic grocery bag combo, roll the bag shut and ignore for about 30 minutes or so  until cool enough to touch.

When you open the bag, a heavenly smell will waft out, and...the char is easily slipped off right into the messy bag.  No need to be picky, not every piece has to be removed. Pull off the stem top, open the pepper, scrape out the seeds, you can even rinse them off with water if you like.
Note: if you don't have a grill but do have a gas stove you can char peppers straight on the gas flame.