Pumpkin Pie and The Importance of Being Earnest

Couldn’t help but consider this title as I struggled with my Pâte Briseé (aka pie crust). I knew from all the warnings (must have pea sized lumps…. don’t over work it…) that the first attempt was not stellar. So… another recipe, this time not my sister’s (that left out salient information such as how much salt or sugar), but Julia’s. As usual, her concise instructions and the accompanying photo illustrations in The Way To Cook, got me through the second batch of pie shells. These were keepers.

Ok, pie shells sorted it was on to a recipe for my Long-Island-Cheese-Pumpkin-Aren’t-I-Special-Puree. This stuff was very very moist and I should have known better. Having decided to go with the flow and follow Julia’s recipe for a ‘fluffy soufflé’ filling (first mistake) and (to my dubious credit) cutting back on the milk, even I smelled danger and baked it longer than required….ICK! Total flop. Here I was, photo of modest pies ready on the digital card, prepared to write a clever blog about how the dough was acceptable but the filling totally fine. Conceit knowing no bounds, I even imagined how my earnest attempt at doing everything from scratch wouldn’t be perfect, but would reap the rewards of real effort. WRONG! Arg! Ouch! Another pang of regret that Cathy (my pastry chef sibling) wasn’t here to watch my (stooped in front of the oven) back.

So, the ‘earnest’ part of Thanksgiving? Turns out it wasn’t all about me and my earnest pie. As a perfect illustration of the obvious, it was about gathering with neighbors and friends, all of us enjoying everything no matter what. My hosts were discretion itself and I hope that they have disposed of any leftover pie without qualms. Next time I’ll practice before traveling next door via the Road of Good Intentions!

I hope that all of you survived Thanksgiving unscathed, with culinary egos intact!

Cranberry Sauce as Avoidance Mechanism

Thanksgiving is almost here and if you are still left with the ‘good guest’ question of ‘what shall I bring’, here’s the easiest thing yet. Now don’t be daunted if your host demurs, it may take 15 years or so (I’ll tell you about that another time), but you will eventually win the battle over the canned variety of Cranberry (faux) Sauce. I know that there are some amongst us who have a sentimental attachment to opening two sides of a can and listening to the sucking noise that accompanies jelly emergence. Hang in there, eventually the canned stuff will lose its celebrity and your homemade effort will be appreciated for its inherent cranberry-ness. So here we go. As in all things, there are always variations on a theme, but this is easy, basic and always a hit. In the time it took for me to take the ingredients photo, the sauce was done. Voila! Here’s how:

Ingredients you will need:

• A bag of cranberries (usually 12 oz.)
• 1 cup of sugar
• 1 cup of orange juice (or a combination of water and oj)
• 2 teaspoons of grated orange rind (give or take)

Equipment:

• Colander
• Measuring cups (wet and dry, or not-this not a precise recipe)
• Your best saucepan (heavy is good)
• Something to grate with and some wax paper
• Something to get the juice out of your oranges
• A spoon
• And lastly, an apron. Cranberries stain!

Method:

• Wash your berries and while doing so, pick out and discard any nasty looking ones.
• Wash your oranges and using a grater (over wax paper or one of those flexible mats), grate off some rind from your oranges. Avoid the white pith under the skin, it’s bitter.
• Juice the oranges and measure. If you don’t have a full cup, add water to get a cup’s worth of liquid.
• Put your prepared ingredients and the cup of sugar into the saucepan (in other words put everything together).
• Stir and bring to a boil.
• When just at a boil, reduce the heat and simmer until the berries pop (about 10 minutes).

Done! Once the berries have popped you can turn off the heat and let your sauce cool down. It will thicken as it cools. You just made sauce and maybe even a mini act of subversion for the holiday table. This sauce needs to be refrigerated but lasts a long time (that is if there is any left!).

Did I forget the “avoidance mechanism” part? Now that I’m warmed-up, it’s time to tackle that pastry dough! Have a wonderful Thanksgiving.

Say “Cheese” (pumpkin)

Thursday is almost here. Because I am going next door for Thanksgiving (I challenge anyone to beat that commute!), I have been absolved of the early morning panic to stuff and time a turkey. Instead, I am in charge of ‘something green’, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie.

In anticipation of my day as ‘slacker-cook’, I purchased a Long Island Cheese Pumpkin at the Farmer’s Market. How could I not after being told that this is the one all the chefs use for making anything pumpkin? Apparently the bright orange Jack-O-Lantern variety is more for carving than eating. This Cheese Pumpkin wasn’t as pretty as its day glow cousins, but I had recently learned (this is what happens when one is a WNYC addict) that the bumps on the outside are sugars trying to escape. I now have a new appreciation for ugly, warty winter squashes.

Anxious to get a head start (because I am stressed about the whole pastry thing), I have already turned this ‘beautiful on the inside’ Cheese pumpkin into puree. Puree is basically something that is subjected to the food processor (or anything else to achieve the same result) until it resembles baby food. With this pumpkin, I cut it into quarters, scraped out the seeds and stringy bits and baked it until it was soft enough to be easy work for the processor. There are now a few zip lock bags in the freezer waiting for their next incarnation.

In the meantime, the seeds were washed to rid themselves of as much of the pumpkin yuck as possible and then left to languish on a baking sheet for a day (well, actually two days). As a quick appetizer, they were tossed with a little olive oil, salt and pepper, and baked on the sheet at 350 degrees for about 10 minutes. I knew they were done when popping action was heard in the oven. Very nice.

Acorn Squash: Part deux in three parts.

Now that you are on a first name basis with Acorn Squash (and keep in mind, our acorn squash stands in for winter squashes in general, I chose an acorn squash because my guess is that you have seen it before many times and were just too shy to introduce yourself), let’s get started with preparation.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. We are about to bake/steam. Make sure your rack is about two thirds up from the bottom and find your oven mitts and a baking dish that will hold both halves of your squash.

Wash your squash!!! Don’t be afraid to go after it with a brush and give it a good scrub. This is your moment to take charge.

Cut in half from just below the stem to pointy end (don’t attempt to cut the stem, your knife will never forgive you). This is actually the most difficult part of the whole operation. Almost by definition, out winter squash pals are thick skinned and will put up a good fight. Be prepared with a cleaver and mallet or pop it in the oven (375 degrees) until soft and more yielding. OR… and I just recently tried this, pop it in the microwave for about a minute on high (just to be safe, use a sharp fork and score a few holes along the line where you plan on cutting). Not soft enough? Try another 30 seconds… keep doing this bit by bit (we are trying to avoid a microwave explosion). Either oven method will make cutting the squash easier (or even possible… this really is the most challenging part of the whole squash experience).

Do you have two halves? Great! Now scrap out the seeds and stringy bits.

Rub the cut surface with some oil (any neutral flavored oil will do the trick), and place cut side down in a baking dish.

Add about 1/2 inch of water and using your mitts, carefully place in the oven. Bake until soft. This should take about 30 minutes. The water will have evaporated and the bottom will have begun to color.

That’s it. Done! You did it! (don't forget your mitts and place the very hot dish on something that can take it) Now all you have to do it add a little butter, salt and pepper…. Or…. A bit of maple syrup, honey or brown sugar… and perhaps a dash of cinnamon or nutmeg. Anything goes.

Here’s a link to a web site that may not have the charm of this entry ;) but has a boatload of squash information.

Summer VS Winter (squash)

Don’t get me started. I, for one, am not thrilled about the prospect of winter (and anyone could feel it today… burr). I can get excited about slowly cooked meals such as soups and stews, roasted vegetables, pizza… (OK, OK, so winter is not all bad)...and amongst these slow cookers are Winter Squash.

This picture has a winter squash and a summer squash (well, two of the later). According to Harold McGee (remember? he’s my favorite food geek), the Naragansett Indians used the word “squash” to mean “ a green thing eaten raw”. I guess our native forebears liked summer squash best. Zucchini can be eaten raw. If you’d rather have it cooked, it doesn’t take long (less heat in the kitchen) and, apart from the stem end, it’s all edible. Summer squashes are best when picked young and compared to their tough skinned cousins, can only be kept for a short time.

Our model for the winter variety is an Acorn Squash. Winter squash, with its tough dry skin, can be stored much longer than its summery counterpart. Although Winter squashes are generally available year ‘round, they are best now, at the end of fall. These hardy members of the curcubit family can be stored for months (in cool and dry conditions).

Keep your hat on for the next entry (it’s getting chilly after all) and simplest dish ever… baked acorn squash. Start to consider if you want it sweet or savory and find your mittens (the oven variety).