My Favorite Meal: Chicken Soup (with a little help from the vegans)

This week was major payback for those few weeks back in December and January (and February and March) when most of the country was buried under snow and San Francisco had days of solid, warm sun. I knew this was coming; some might even say I deserved it.

You know, it's funny, I said to a friend in New York who, at the time, couldn't stop using the word "snowmageddon." The weather in San Francisco is amazing right now. I feel so removed from the plight of the rest of the country. There's, like, a snow emergency in D.C., the federal government has even shut down, and I'm not wearing a jacket over here!

Yeah, that's funny. Hey, I have to go, she responded. They're closing the office. The PATH trains are shutting down. This snowmageddon is crazy. So, I don't want to get stuck here.

Yeah, yeah. With comments like those, I asked for it this week: The unacceptably cold wind and the pelting rain and hail, while the rest of you enjoy unseasonably warm temperatures.

We broke a record today! My mother shrieked on Friday. The record we broke was from 1986. Do you remember that day? In 1986? You were there. It was right after your brother was born. It was so warm, and I was itching to get out of the house, but I had this new baby, it was overwhelming. But it was so nice outside! Wouldn't it be funny if you remembered that? Do you remember that?

No, I don't. But hey. I wore a sweater today.

The cold weather made me want to make large batches of comforting hot food to carry me through the week. To hunker down with the cats, curled up at the foot of the bed, keeping my toes warm. To turn all of the baseboard heaters in the apartment up way past the "Comfort Zone" (as indicated on the thermostats that sit on the wall of every room) and roast in the musty dust smell that's so characteristic of cheap electric heaters that haven't been used in a while.

So I made a big dish of veggie lasagna and allowed the cats in the bedroom while we slept, even though I knew I'd be awakened by one (or both) of them sniffing my ear in the middle of the night. I even let Girlfriend keep the heat on in the living room overnight so that I wouldn't freeze when I left the bedroom in the morning.

Lasagna's always a safe bet for warm winter (spring?) comfort food, and this one was no exception (and it provided us with several lunches during the week, which meant that I didn't have to leave the office and face the rain to find a sandwich). But soup--soup. Soup is the ultimate "this weather sucks, there's a vitamin D deficiency on the horizon if I don't see sun soon" meal. So when Girlfriend complained of a sore throat on Saturday, I immediately responded with soup.



Unwilling to re-layer outwear and go out again to get cornmeal for cornbread after a day of running around, I pulled together a sour cream muffin recipe. It used nutmeg. Turns out, nutmeg isn't much of a flavor complement to chicken soup...

I've never made chicken soup before, but my mom has, so I knew it had to be easy enough. I checked my intuition (place raw, bone-in chicken bits in pot with water, boil with chopped veggies, add noodles, done) against the standard chicken broth recipe in the JoC and improvised from there.

I went through a brief vegan phase a few years ago and read the Vegan Planet cookbook pretty much end-to-end to acclimate myself to dairy-free, meat-free livin'. I quickly failed at the vegan thing, but I did learn quite a bit about preparing flavor-rich foods from the cookbook, and those kinds of lessons last a lifetime, even when your dietary choices don't. For example, leaving the (clean) skins on your veggies when you prepare a soup (enhances the flavor). Adding tamari to broths (deepens the color, also enhances flavor). Using garlic and onions liberally (they're a natural cold remedy, thus a perfect addition to soup).

The chicken soup was delicious. It almost made Girlfriend weep. (This is our personal barometer for assessing delicious food. Is it so good that it makes you cry? I've full-on wept for food twice in my life: Once, when eating scallops at Bar Tartine in the Mission; the second time, savoring, again, oddly enough, a scallop dish at a Peruvian restaurant called Andina in Portland.)

I started the soup with a full pot of cold water; a leg and a half of chicken, bone-in; minced garlic; green onions; green garlic; and a tablespoon of tamari. After bringing to a boil and simmering for 30 minutes, I added the standard mirepoix (onion, carrot, and celery, which had been chopped in a food processor--ding! Another awesome usage of what's quickly becoming my favorite kitchen gadget); parsley; leeks; and mushrooms. I let that simmer for 40 minutes, removed the chicken, cut it into bits, then re-added to the stock with a cup of alphabet noodles. Once the noodles were cooked, the soup was done.

I'm hoping that curing my girlfriend's impending cold with delicious homemade soup is enough to fend off the bad weather karma I assumed after my insensitive response to snowmageddon. Because that's how it works, right?

Apple Sage Cobbler

This is the final installment of the "fresh herbs, meet baked goods" series I did for Becky's Meals; For Moderns blog (although I'm secretly hoping she invites me back soon).

***

I do a lot of complaining about the Joy of Cooking, but I have to admit--I actually use it quite often, especially lately. After I got over the fact that it's totally not something I'd use to plan meals and started considering it more as a resource for building far more interesting recipes, I warmed up to it. It's like the starter drug for cooking.

There's also something mildly comforting about the JoC. It's what your mom had in the kitchen next to do-it-yourself binders stuffed with recipes she cut out of Good Housekeeping and the backs of graham cracker boxes and glued to copier paper. The simple cover; the red circle; the all-lowercase, serif font used on those fantastic three letters. Like I said, I'm really feeling warmer here.

Last week was a challenging one. Not just for me, but for some close friends as well. I initially wanted to do something savvy, fun, and ambitious for my last guest post (bruising lemongrass sounded so cool!), but when it came down to Sunday evening (baking day for the gainfully employed and over-booked) all I wanted was something warm and familiar.

We had also just picked up our produce CSA box for the week and had another bag full of apples. Those who know me well know that I have a serious physical aversion to apples. It's happened to me as for as long as I can remember: the sound (ugh) of someone biting into an apple (ergh) and chewing it (argh) gives me goosebumps, like squeaky chalk on a chalkboard for normal people. Unlike squeaky chalk, though, the apple sound also makes me--you're going to love this--start salivating voraciously. Like one of this guy's test subjects. It even happens when I think about the sound. Right now, for example. I'm shivering and salivating like mad.

So I don't eat (or think about) raw apples. It's pretty physically uncomfortable for me. But baked apples--like those in apple cobbler--are totally tolerable. And what's more comforting than cobbler? (And how else am I going to get rid of these apples??)

I consulted the JoC for a basic cobbler recipe to better understand what I was getting myself into. Cobbler seems like a pretty traditional baked good, and I'm not exactly known for being traditional with my baking, so I felt a little out of my league. I ended up lifting the cobbler dough recipe right out of the "biscuits" section (but added lemon zest, so it's still unique, right?).

Sage, meanwhile, seemed like the perfect pairing. A nice complement, taste-wise, and kind of a warm and comforting herb, as well.

As you'll see in the recipe, I made a sage-infused butter and tossed the apples in it. I strained the sage out before doing the apples, which I wouldn't do next time. I think this would have been really tasty with the sage baked right in.

Apple Sage Cobbler



Apple sage cobbler! The perfect visual accompaniment to a wall outlet.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F and have ready an (ungreased) 8x8 inch glass baking dish.

Begin by preparing the dough that you'll put either above (my choice) or below (seems interesting) the fruit.

Sour Cream Cobbler Biscuit Dough

1 3/4 c all-purpose flour
3/4 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
4 tbsp chilled unsalted butter
1/2 c sour cream
1/4 c heavy whipping cream
1 1/2 - 2 tbsp lemon zest

In a large bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, and baking soda.

Using two knives, cut-in the butter, one tablespoon at a time. The dough should be a bit crumbly.

Whisk together the sour cream, heavy cream, and lemon zest.

Make a well in the center of the bowl. Pour the sour cream mixture into the well and stir just until the dough comes away from the sides of the bowl (note: this actually never happened for me--everything just got crumbly).

Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead 8 to 10 times. Roll (or, using your fingers, press) the dough until it's about 1/4 of an inch thick.

Then, turn to the fruit.

Sage Apple Mixture

6-8 medium apples, sliced
4 tbsp unsalted butter
1 tbsp brown sugar
2 tbsp chopped fresh sage

Melt the butter in a small saucepan, with the sage, over medium heat. Add the brown sugar and use a fork to mix until the brown sugar seems evenly mixed with the butter. When the butter starts to bubble, turn the heat down to low. Simmer for 3-4 minutes to infuse the butter with the sage. Strain the butter to remove the sage and transfer to a large frying pan on medium heat.

Toss the apples in the butter mixture over the heat for 5-6 minutes, then take the pan off the heat and let sit for 2-3 minutes.

Transfer the apples to the glass baking pan and drizzle the butter mixture over them, saving around 1/2 tbsp. Place the cobbler dough on top of the apples and cut it to fit, if needed. Cut 3 small steam vents into the dough.

Using a spoon (or a fancy cooking brush thing if you have one!), brush the remaining butter mixture on top of the dough. Sprinkle 2-4 tsp of sugar on top.

Bake until the top is golden brown and the apple juices have thickened slightly--it only took about 30 minutes for me. Let the cobbler cool for 15 minutes before serving.

Serve with fresh whipped cream (you should have some heavy whipping cream left over from the dough!):

1/2 c heavy whipping cream
2 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 - 1 tbsp confectioners' sugar

Using an electric mixer, beat the whipping cream, vanilla, and confectioners' sugar until it makes stiff peaks.

Arugula Almond Drop Cookies

Ari Weinzweig, co-founder of the iconic-awesome food mecca Zingerman's in Ann Arbor, Michigan, blogs on the Atlantic Monthly food channel in a column called "Behind the Counter." "Purveyor's purveyor Ari Weinzweig finds foodstuffs to crave" is how the column's described. While I don't really know what that means, it's not a bad column. Then again, anyone who calls the town of my alma mater home--and does his or her business there--will always have my vote. Michiganders, you can do no wrong. No, really. Not even bankruptcy, government bailout, or high crime can tarnish you in my eyes.

In early December, Weinzweig mused upon the coupling of pepper and dessert. I immediately glommed onto the idea. For some reason I recently started really, really loving putting fresh-ground pepper on or in everything: bagels with peppery cream cheese. Fresh, peppered hummus. Bloody Marys with an extra dose of pepper. It was only a matter of time before I figured out the best way to incorporate it into my baking.

Weinzweig talks about fancy sweet pepper-laced stuff in his post. Quinces, a version of panforte, and other such things. I panic a little bit when poached fruit, foreign languages, or fire is involved in anything edible. Pfeffernüsse, a German cookie variety, gets front-billing in Weinzweig's post. I, like Weinzweig, am not a pfeffernüsse aficionado; I can't really recall the taste, flavor, or texture of such a cookie, which leads me to believe that I may have never had one before. I don't even know how to pronounce the word. When I looked up the recipe in the JoC, I saw that it involved lots of spices and nuts (and I was disappointed that Rombauer didn't also sound out the word for me). So, all these things combined means that pfeffernüsse must be fancy, too.

But the concept of a drop-cookie, which pfeffernüsse shares (at least according to its cookie categorization in the JoC), is not, at its core, fancy. It's just a really round cookie. Aside from their symmetry, I like how drop-cookies are kind of melty and crumbly and bite-sized at the same time, so I've been mulling over the idea of coming up with my own version of the pfeffernüsse. The kathernüsse, perhaps. Except, being Katherine, I'm not totally into the idea of just taking ground pepper and throwing it into a cookie recipe. That would be too easy.

Enter, stage left: arugula, with its cute wavy leaves. Arugula is a peppery green. I keep reading those two words--arugula and peppery--over and over again in recipes; it's like they're conjoined twins, eternally linked at the hip. I cook arugula up in the same way I cook kale or spinach, and I agree--it's got a bite to it (and it's really tasty as a side served with seared scallops!). In fact, I made seared scallops with braised broccolini and arugula last week for Valentine's Day. I had a bunch of fresh arugula left over, and then we got more in our CSA box this week. A not-your-run-of-the-pepper-mill (har!) recipe was basically handed to me without any creative thinking required on my part, and thank glory it was. My brain's only functioning at 50 percent after an epically raucous birthday barbecue party yesterday.

Like I did with the basil chocolate cupcakes, I combined, using a food processor, the fresh arugula with the confectioners' sugar in this recipe. If you're one of those people who's not into eating green things, then you might not be so into these cookies. (Otherwise, they're pretty good. Nutty with a savory earthiness that keeps them from being overly sweet, and they've got the bite-sized melty/crumbly thing going on.) Girlfriend helped pull the first batch out of the oven. "Are they ready to come out?" I asked. "They're done if they look vaguely brown." Her response: "I don't know, but they are vaguely green."

Arugula Almond Cookies
Makes about 30 one-inch cookies



1/2 c confectioners' sugar
1 1/2 c fresh arugula (or more--the ones I made ended up being very, very subtle in the arugula department)
1 c (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
1/4 tsp salt
2 tsp vanilla
2/3 c toasted almonds, finely ground (you can toast raw, unsalted almonds in a nonstick frying pan on the stove--5-7 mins on medium-high heat--then throw them in a food processor)
2 tbsp sour cream
2 c all-purpose flour

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease 2 cookie sheets.

In a food processor, combine confectioners' sugar and fresh arugula until the arugula is finely chopped. The resulting mixture will be green and sticky.

Using a mixer, beat the butter, sugar mixture, salt, and vanilla until well-blended. Stir in almonds; add the sour cream. Stir in flour until well-blended. Shape dough into 1-inch balls and arrange on cookie sheets, about 1 1/4 inches apart.

Bake, one sheet at a time, for 12-15 minutes, until lightly browned. After removing from the oven, let cookies stand for 2 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool. Once cooled, roll the cookies in confectioners' sugar.

Rosemary Lemon Shortbread

This is the first of three recipes I'll be guest blogging about on Meals; for Moderns, my friend Becky's fantastic vegetarian food blog. I've lately been intrigued with the idea of using fresh herbs in baked goods--fresh herbs pack so much flavor, but you rarely (with the exception of the staples like mint and lavender) see them outside of the savory. I'll be exploring the hidden "gems" of the herbal world over three posts.

***

I adapted this Scotch Shortbread recipe from page 775 of the 75th (no joke) anniversary edition of The Joy of Cooking. I'm actually not the biggest fan of the JoC; in fact, I'm not really a fan at all. I find the recipes extremely uninspiring, and I can't help but feel like a mid-century housewife preparing bland meals for a bland husband when I dig into its bland recipes. I know. I understand. That's the point. It's how the JoC came to be in the first place--The United States of Arugula, another book I strongly dislike for unrelated reasons, told me so (page 22):

"Irma Rombauer, the author of The Joy of Cooking, represented a sane middle ground for housewives in the thirties and forties...[she explained] that the Joy of Cooking had been compiled 'with one eye on the family purse and the other on the bathroom scale,' with 'occasional lapses into indulgence.'"

Sure. It's iconic. But that doesn't mean I have to like it.

(Side note: Continue down the same page and, behold, a treasure--tucked away in an otherwise unassuming footnote:

"Rombauer, a bourgeois St. Louis housewife of German descent, compiled the first edition...in 1931...as an exercise in getting over the 1930 suicide of her husband."

Because I know I'm not the only morbid one here: answers.com tells us that Edgar Rombauer shot himself through the mouth after having a nervous breakdown, not his first, in 1929.)

One more thing about this recipe and the JoC: I swear by using sour cream in as many baked goods as I can, and this recipe is no exception. It overjoyed me, then, to read this, right from the very back reference pages:

"The longevity of people in certain cultures in Eastern Europe, Scandinavia, and western Asia is often attributed to their diet of sour and fermented milks." Since this is a food blog, I'll keep the gory details short: "Friendly" bacteria from these sour, fermented milks settle in the gut, stimulate the growth of good things, and boost immunity.

Thanks for the seal of approval, Rombauer.

Na zdrowie!

Rosemary Lemon Shortbread
Makes 12-24 shortbread fingers



3/4 c (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter
2-3 tbsp fresh chopped rosemary [note: the more you have, the stronger the flavor!]
1/4 c confectioners' sugar, sifted
1/4 c sugar
1/4 tsp salt
1 1/2 c all-purpose flour
1 tbsp sour cream
2 tbsp lemon zest

1-2 tsp sugar (for sprinkling on top)

Preheat the oven to 300 degrees F.

In a saucepan over medium-high heat, melt the butter. When the butter starts to bubble, add the fresh rosemary. Continue to boil the butter and rosemary for 1-2 minutes more.

Strain the butter and discard the rosemary scraps. Let the butter sit for 15-20 minutes to cool a bit.

Beat the butter, confectioners' sugar, sugar, and salt in a large bowl. Stir in the flour until blended, then add the sour cream and lemon zest. Press the dough evenly into the bottom of an 8-inch square baking pan. Use a fork to pierce the dough (tenderly, please) to make a decorative pattern.

Sprinkle with sugar before popping in the oven for 45 to 50 minutes, or until the shortbread is lightly browned and darker at the edges. Cut the shortbread into 12-24 skinny fingers while still warm, and leave it in the pan to cool.