Sweet Potato Latkes with Applesauce

Last week my students harnessed their Bubbes. Out came the graters, or as the kids call them, “the shredders,” pushed back their sleeves, tied on those aprons and got down to business. Potatoes are hard for little hands to shred, especially those larger sweet potatoes. They are heavy, they are awkwardly shaped and they’re dense. As you can see in the picture above, sometimes two sets of hands (a second to hold the shredder) was needed.

The students were great sports through it all.

“Latkes? What’s that.”

“They’re potato pancakes for Hannukah.”

“What do they taste like?”

“Sort of like french fries.”

And that’s all it took to set them into a shredding frenzy.

I broke each class into three groups, each making a different latke flavor so we could explore some spices. One made plain salt and pepper, another made cumin and the third made our “dessert” cinnamon latkes. A few eggs and then we crisped them up in olive oil and enjoyed them with applesauce. (recipe at bottom)

Lemon Stained Glass Cookies

This week my classes are celebrating their second week of holidays. As Hannukah is just about leaving us, we’re busy cutting cookies for Christmas. This week, we turned boring sugar cookies into zippy cinnamony-lemon treats. We took those zippy cookies and added another element, cutting out smaller shapes in the cookies, then filling those cut outs with crushed hard candies.

The kids loved how our opaque sugar powders (ground Jolly Ranchers) turned into smooth clear centers. When held up to the light these cookies are really dazzling. Of course, in class, our cookies were eaten so quickly we didn’t even bother to poke a hole at top to hang them.

A word to those working these cookies in your own kitchen: keep an eye on the flour and dough scraps! At the end of each day I am thrilled I’m not the one to mop up the floor (and sorry for the one that does). If it’s any consolation I do have to scrape off the bottom of my shoes. (recipe at bottom, photo tk)

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Sweet Potato Latkes with Applesauce
Makes about 20 small latkes

2 pounds sweet potatoes
1 small Vidalia onion
2 eggs
1 teaspoon salt
Add one:
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Grate sweet potatoes and onion using the largest setting on a box grater. Spread potatoes and onions on a paper towel, cover with more paper towels and press to expel water. Transfer the potatoes and onions into a bowl. Add eggs and salt.  For regular flavored latkes, add ground pepper. For cumin flavored latkes, add cumin. For cinnamon “dessert” latkes, add the cinnamon. Alternatively, after adding the eggs and salt, divide the mixture between three bowls and add the seasoning to each for three different latke flavors.
Warm olive oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. Place a scoop of potato batter into the pan and flatten with a spatula. Fry until darkly golden, about 6 minutes, flip and fry another 5 to 6 minutes.Transfer to serving plate and serve with applesauce and sour cream.
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Lemon Stained Glass Cookies
Makes about 30 cookies

1 stick unsalted butter, at room temperature
3/4 cup sugar
1 large egg
1 teaspoon lemon extract
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1-1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
7 ounces clear hard candies, broken into small pieces (Recommended: Jolly Rancher)

Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. Note: an easy method for breaking hard candies is to put them through the coffee grinder.
With an electric mixer, beat butter and sugar until fluffy. Add the egg, lemon extract and lemon zest. Beat to combine about 1 minute more. Sift in flours, cinnamon, baking powder and salt. Mix until just combined.
Form the dough into a smooth ball and transfer to a well floured surface. Flatten dough into a sphere and sprinkle with flour. Roll out dough to about 1/8-inch thickness. Cut desired shapes using large cookie cutters. Transfer cut dough to a parchment-lined cookie sheet. Use smaller cookie cutter shapes, removing shapes from the cookies, leaving approximately a 1/2-inch border around the edges. Gather scraps, form into a ball and re-roll dough for more cookies. Poke a hole at the top of the cookies (to create ornament cookies). Sprinkle a layer of hard candy in the small cookie cutter holes. Bake 10 minutes. Allow cookies to cool about 10 minutes on cookie sheet before removing them with a thin spatula.

“This isn’t pasta– it’s pillows of heaven!”

I share the same sentiments, but a fifth grader beat me with getting the words out.

Gnocchi week has been the best success yet. Dare I say better than pumpkin muffins?

At the insistence of Kitchen Rule #1, “Try Everything” I was able to nudge skeptical students to try the gnocchi. No joke, not only did most everyone return for seconds, many kept coming back.

My original plan was to make a sage and spinach gnocchi from a recent Saveur. I liked it because it utilized semolina flour and I’m always looking to introduce my students to a new ingredient. My mind eventually wandered as I thought about amping up the fall flavors. I toyed with pumpkin gnocchi and sweet potato gnocchi. I decided against both since we’ve used them recently, or will in weeks to come.

I also wanted to move away from sage because we used it in our empanadas. I switched the herb to rosemary, something we have yet to explore.

In the end I went with beets. I knew the kids would get a kick out of the color– “Pink pasta! This isn’t like any pasta I’ve seen before!” I kept chopped spinach to add some color, along with the semolina flour. (At home, I would have used chopped beet greens instead of spinach, but going with frozen chopped was a little time saver.)

I really liked the semolina flour. It provided great texture and richness to the gnocchi. Both the beets and spinach were subtle flavor enhancers. Infusing the butter in rosemary before browning these pillows of heaven left a truly heavenly aroma in the kitchen and lingering on the pasta.

We browned these gnocchi on a skillet instead of boiling. It gave a great crispness to the pasta and you can’t beat butter infused with rosemary!

Beet and Spinach Gnocchi
8 servings

1 lb russet potatoes (recommended: small potatoes)
1/2 cup pureed beets (about 2 small beets; use pre-cooked or see method below)
1-1/4 cups semolina flour, plus more
4 ounces frozen spinach, thawed and drained (or: chop, sauté and drain your beet greens! The flavor is similar to spinach.)
2 eggs, beaten
1-1/2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon nutmeg, plus
freshly ground black pepper to taste
4 tablespoons butter
4 3-inch rosemary sprigs
Parmesan cheese

Special Equipment: Ricer or Food Mill

NOTE: In class, I cooked, peeled and cooled beets and potatoes early in the week. This made assembly of the gnocchi a super fast snap!

Preheat oven to 400F. Snip greens from beets (save for another use), wrap in foil and roast until soft, about 45 minutes. Remove skin under cold running water, set aside to cool. Boil whole potatoes, skin on, until soft, 25-30 minutes. Cool and peel potatoes by slipping the skin between two paper towels.

Pass beets and potatoes through a ricer into a medium bowl. Stir in drained spinach, flour, eggs, nutmeg, salt and a few turns of black pepper until well combined. (NOTE: Drain spinach by pressing the water out.) Batter should hold together when pressed but still be sticky.

Scoop a heaping spoonful of the dough onto a semolina-dusted work surface. Roll into a log, about 1/2-inch thick. Slice into 1/2-inch long pieces, transfer to a semolina-dusted parchment-lined baking sheet. Continue to re-flour (if necessary) scoop and roll dough until done.

Warm butter in a skillet. Add rosemary and sauté 2 minutes until fragrant. Add gnocchi to pan and a pinch of nutmeg, cooking until browned, about 4 minutes each side. Continue until all gnocchi is cooked, adding more butter if needed. Once complete, toss gnocchi together lightly in a serving bowl with any reserved rosemary or butter from pan. Sprinkle with Parmesan cheese to serve.

NOTE: Leave out the beets and try sweet potato or winter squash (like pumpkin) gnocchi. Or, add 2 tablespoons tomato paste (red gnocchi), pureed spinach for green, or other veggie for another color. Serve with sautéed mushroom or tomato sauce.

These muffins were a lot of fun to make and the students loved them. To make a more adult or general fall version, nix the frosting altogether, or do a maple syrup-powdered sugar glaze (keeping them more local too). The muffins are 100% whole wheat and the flavor is enriched by lovely fall spices and molasses in lieu of white sugar.

In class, we made mini muffins and everyone was able to decorate three– one to eat in class, two to bring home. We did coconut frosting because I wanted the texture to give the witches and goblins we would be creating a creepier face. Otherwise, I cut the sugar in the frosting by 1 cup with the addition of unsweetened coconut. I had a number of students proclaim they didn’t like coconut but at the end of the day they were eating the muffins with as much gusto as everyone else.

I broke our one hour class time similar to pizza day. Monday before class I made and baked a batch of muffins (so the muffins would be cool when we worked with them). In class we made a batch of batter, which I then refrigerated for the next day’s class. Students made the frosting and were provided decorations. Most of the students worked really fast on these so I was able to take my time going over the ingredients. The following class day I baked yesterday’s batter and had the muffins ready to go.

For decorations, I split the frosting into six batches and added a few drops of food coloring. This gave the students red, orange, green, blue, black and white bases to work with. Next they mostly had dried fruit for add ons: dates, bananas, raisins, cranberries, papaya and ginger. Also, pretzel sticks, marshmallows and a few sprinkles. I told my students to work for shape, rather than a candy pile on.

In all our excitement I forgot to take photos of some of my students truly amazing creations. We had marshmallow mummies, monsters with banana chip tongues, spiders with date arms, witches, devils, ghosts, goblins, cyclops, and beautiful abstract blobs of holiday color (perhaps a Kadinsky or two in our future). Which is why above, is a picture of my classroom blackboard, rather than some fabulous looking muffins.

One of my kindergarteners approached me after class and asked how I came up with our project for the day.
“It’s Halloween week.”
“I think you’re smart because I really like these.”
“Thanks, I’m glad you had so much fun.”
“Yeah, and also, do you know how to make pumpkin pie? Because you’re going to make a pumpkin pie for my Halloween party this weekend.”
No demands. I should have suggested that since he is now an expert at muffins, and enjoyed them so much, he should make them for all his friends.

Aprons were a train wreck at the end of the week so make sure to cover up, especially with the food coloring.

Pumpkin Spice Muffins with Coconut Frosting
Makes 24 mini muffins. Bake time= 15-18 minutes.

Muffins:
3/4 cup pure pumpkin puree
1 egg
1/4 cup molasses
2 tablespoons butter, melted
2 tablespoons crushed ginger
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1-1/2 cups whole wheat flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 tablespoon ground flax (optional)
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon allspice
1/4 teaspoon ground clove
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
Frosting:
1 8-ounce package cream cheese, room temperature
1 cup powdered sugar
1 cup unsweetened coconut flakes
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Decoration:
Black, green, orange, red, blue food coloring, assorted dried fruit and candies, etc

Preheat oven to 350F. Line 24 mini muffin cups with liners. In a medium bowl add pumpkin, egg, molasses, butter, ginger and vanilla. Stir until well combined. Sift in whole wheat flour, baking powder, flax, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, clove and baking soda. Mix until just combined, being careful not to over mix ingredients.

Scoop batter into muffin liners. Bake 15-18 minutes, until a toothpick comes out clean. While baking, whisk together frosting ingredients. Divide frosting into small bowls. Dye one green, one orange, one black, etc. Set aside.

Remove muffins from oven. Let cool 10-15 minutes. Frost and decorate with assorted candies and dried fruit.

Sadly, the sour cherry season is coming to a close. If you look hard you might be able to find the last sours of the season. I’ve heard reports from friends hitting up local farmer’s markets that they can still find them depending on where the farm comes in from.

Last week I was visiting D who is teaching and performing in upstate NY for the month. In a desperate attempt to find fresh fruit– any fruit, I finally found an orchard with pick-your-own sour cherries.* I happily dragged D out in his limited time off for an afternoon of cherry picking.

“What are you going to do with all this?! There must be 20 lbs of fruit here!” D exclaimed towards the end of our pickin’.

“If you think this is 20 lbs you seriously need to start lifting weights, it’s closer to 10. And do? Cherry cobbler, cherry ice cream, maraschino cherries, brandy cherries, cherry jam… What won’t I do?!”

Final verdict: 12 lbs picked and D will hopefully start on his weight regimen on his return to the city.

We returned to the home of our friends J and L and I got to work pitting my cherries. You can see in the photo above I actually have a cherry pitter, which sadly, is not the best tool for sour cherries because they are a little softer than sweet cherries. I also don’t appreciate the double hole pitters create (one where the poker goes in and one where the pit comes out). I found it wasted a lot of juice in these precious globes. Instead, I ended up using a paperclip trick the orchard suggested.

That night, a cherry cobbler was on the table and the rest went into freezer bags to accompany me back to NYC for my ice cream, brandy, jam and more. I even kept the pits to make cherry pit ice cream (which tastes like almond). But as I looked at the 3 bags of cherries those 12 lbs-less-a-cobbler didn’t look like very much anymore. I promptly called the orchard and asked if there would be cherries left the following week when I return. “Should be.”

So today I pray for cherries to hold out just a few more days for me. I can’t bear calling the orchard until tomorrow to check the tree status. But when I left last week, D was very encouraging: “Just think, next time you’re up there will be blueberries.” I head back up tomorrow and the best part– not only are blueberries and raspberries ripe, I’ve already mapped out the pick-your-own peach orchards for the return drive!

*I also spent the day at the farm that supplies my CSA with grass-fed beef and free-range pork. They had currant bushes ready for picking but a downpour and hornets nest (conveniently tucked into the branches) kept us from picking too many.

This sauerkraut receives its fuchsia-hue from beets.

Note: This post also appears on Sustainable Table’s Adventures in Fermentation.

Confession: When I was younger I hated sauerkraut. Most people will read that and think, Well, no bother. Just don’t eat the stuff. It’s not like one is presented with it often!

But, being that I am half-Latvian, sauerkraut was presented to me more often than most people would consider normal. Perhaps normal for you would be that one year at a family picnic when your eclectic Aunt Betty, having just returned from Germany, wanted to share the joys of sauerkraut along with a rousing schuhplattling. Or perhaps it was on a vacation 3 years back and it appeared mysteriously, slathered on a hot dog.

But, as I said, being half-Latvian, sauerkraut was seemingly everywhere. Forget the odd family picnic or bizarre vacation hot dog. On our regular journeys into the depths of Chicago’s Latvian neighborhood we would find my grandmother at home, stirring a large batch of sauerkraut. (Think stock pot size– enough for everyone to take home!) At the yearly Latvian block party, buckets of sauerkraut from every family on the block would be on the offering– right there, next to the jelly bean guess-the-quantity competition (which, thank you, I won one year). You know block parties, one little nibble from your own grandmother isn’t enough, you have to look good in front of the neighbors. During cold Chicago winters, my own mother would raise the stock pot and pour in the ‘kraut. Eventually, the operation was moved to a portable burner in the garage so the smell wouldn’t saturate the house during the 4+ hour cook time– and of course, so we could have sauerkraut more often.As a child I thought sauerkraut was, well, sour. It was also funny looking. And it smelled weird.

I’m not talking about the sauerkraut that is served cold with sausage on the side (though ours was most often served with kielbasa on the side). My family’s Latvian sauerkraut is slow-braised for hours until it reaches caramelization. It sits there on the plate, a deep amber mass, fit for a rustic Baltic meal: a side of meat with mustard and dark Latvian rye bread.

As a child I recall my polite no thank you’s when it was being served, but was always met with the parental, “Okay, just a little then.” So there it sat on my plate being pushed around and spread out to appear if at least not enjoyed, partially consumed.

But years pass and tastes change and that sourness now seems more sweet.

My grandmother, uncles and mother still make a stock pot full of sauerkraut, and sometimes I even find myself behind the stove on a cold New York City night taking out the stock pot.

But the start to sauerkraut, whether it’s slow cooked, or uncooked and cold, begins with fermentation.

As one can imagine, northern Europe plays host to some frigid winters. (If you cannot imagine, I spent an August in Latvia, their warmest month, and wore a sweatshirt the whole time there. Of course, families were basking in Speedos on the beach, but to each their own.) Cabbage was, and still is, a mainstay of the cuisine. It grows well in cool climates and once fermented, it has a long shelf life, feeding a family through a brutal winter. A little salt and a crock pot is all it takes and in a few days natural bacterias in the air take over for a lacto-fermentation (ending as lactic acid converts sugars to acid).

Once fermented, kept raw, sauerkraut is very high in vitamin C. In fact, it is sauerkraut, and other fermented foods, that cured early explorers of scurvy (not barrels of oranges)*. Further, all those sugars, converted to acids, lowers the pH and is good for digestion. And some believe that fermented foods keep them healthy and can fight against disease and illness from the avian flu to ulcers and cancer to hangovers. (A hangover cure might also explain why my Latvian family can drink like a fish through the night and wake up raring to go.)

It should be noted that all these benefits occur when the sauerkraut is eaten raw, uncooked. If you want the same beneficial bacteria to play in your stomach and don’t want to make it yourself, seek out raw sauerkraut on the store shelves. Most of the sauerkraut you find in bags has been quick fermented with vinegar and will not have the same positive results.

Should you want to make it yourself, it’s easy and a fun experiment for any kitchen! You can add a plethora of vegetables to the mix. In my batch, pictured above, I have cabbage, beets, carrots and kohlrabi. You can even add hot pepper flakes for a kimchi-like variation.

NOTE: Never use aluminum as your fermentation vessel, or aluminum tools to stir or taste. A ceramic crock or large glass 1 to 5 gallon containers are ideal. Clean everything well so only good bacteria have an opportunity to multiply (a run through a dishwasher or hand washed with hot water and soap is fine).

Sauerkraut
Serving size= about 6. Active time= 20 minutes. Inactive time=1 to 3 weeks, depending on temperature (hot temperatures speed up fermentation)
2 medium to large heads cabbage (red or green), about 5 lbs
3 carrots
1/4 cup Kosher salt
4 cloves garlic, peeled
2 teaspoons caraway seeds (optional)

Shred the cabbage and carrots using a food processor (or finely by hand), as you would for coleslaw. Set in a bowl and toss with salt, garlic and caraway seeds. Transfer to your fermentation vessel (see note above). Using your fist, pack the vegetables firmly into the bottom of your vessel to release as many air bubbles as possible. (This is where a glass vessel is nice because you can see your progress.) Juice should escape from the cabbage and just cover the vegetables. If not, add a little water and a bit of salt until vegetables are just covered. (The older your cabbage, the less juice it will have!) Place a weight inside your container, keeping as much of the cabbage underneath as possible. A ceramic plate or food-grade plastic bag filled with some salt water (in case the bag breaks) work well. Cover the fermentation vessel with a kitchen towel or a few layers of cheesecloth and secure. Set aside on counter.

After 2 to 3 days, taste the cabbage, fermentation will have begun! Continue to taste until it reaches a tartness you like, 1 to 3 weeks, depending on the temperature in the room. After day 3, you might notice a film developing on the top of the brine. Skim it off every day or two, but don’t wait more than 2 days. Once the vegetables have reached a flavor you like, transfer to the refrigerator. It will keep for many months.

If you are going out of town after your fermentation has begun but is not finished, just transfer your container to the fridge and replace it to your counter when you return. Cold temperatures slow fermentation. Never eat fermented foods that taste “meaty” or smell off– your nose is powerful, trust it! This is a sign the wrong bacteria have taken over (rare, but it can happen). Fermented foods should smell tangy, tart and fresh.

Other additions include curry, turmeric, hot pepper flakes, dill, onions, turnips, kohlrabi, radish or other vegetables and seasonings in your sauerkraut!

*Or is is barrels of limes?! Perhaps a combination of both– or it depends where those sailors came from!

Good pizza is sooooo good.

I say this having come from pizza-centric people: the good people of Chicago. The Chicago-style pizza boasts a deep dish knife-and-fork-required slice oozing with cheese and a 1/2-inch thick crust. So dense and heavy it’s difficult to eat more than one slice, two is pushing a limit. Baked in a cast iron pan in a hot oven. A recent visit took me to the Art of Pizza (no website). I still think about that pizza today– so good I actually ate 2.5 slices and had to be rolled out. I cannot describe- or remember, what was best– the crust, the cheese or the sauce. My friends tell me Chicagoans are now pushing a thin crust pizza and dare I say it, but Chicago, don’t be crazy! Stick to the love of the dish!

I am blessed to now live amongst another pizza-centric people: the good people of New York City. A thin, often foldable crust slice. The better ones emerge from a piping hot coal oven slightly blackened on the edges. Easy to eat on-the-go as the NYC lifestyle demands. I like taking people to Grimaldi’s in Brooklyn, licking the plate clean, and walking the pie off over the Brooklyn Bridge. The pies can be as fancy as you like and you can mix and match toppings. But really, unless I end up in a national chain I’ve never had a horrible NY slice (I can’t always say the same for deep dish).

(But seriously, what are those chains putting in there?!)

Both cities are proud of their pizza and I am proud to have lived in both pizza-meccas. Sometimes California, with their “aternative” pizzas surface, but that’s hogwash! Sushi pizza? Pineapple pizza? Nay! But in this whole debate, dare I suggest I make a mean pie that competes with the best of them? (And for the record let’s just say no one beats a true Naples pizza where the great dish originated!)

I have no brick oven and no pizza stone– I make my pizza on a good old sheet pan. The secret, I have learned, is all in the crust (okay, it’s also in the toppings, but really, it starts in the crust). (And I bet if I added a brick or coal oven to the mix, or even a stone I could really be a contender).

Anyone can do it and if you don’t live near a pizza metropolis it is well worth it. Even if you do live near a pizza metropolis try making your own sometime! It cooks in about 15 minutes so once you apply your toppings it’s a super quick meal. You can be as creative or basic as you want and it’s fun for young children to get involved because who doesn’t love pizza?

Growing up, I remember a rare occasion when my brothers and I made our own pizza. As you would think, living amongst pizza-people, my family was more likely to purchase a good pie rather than make one. But when a company introduced a pre-cooked focaccia-looking sponge that rhymes with “Moboli” and they called dough, my family took to making pizza. (Actually, I can only remember purchasing “Moboli” once– perhaps we realized then you don’t mess with crust.

Here is another secret: forget tomato sauce. Really, forget it. I know you see it all the time scooped up and smeared with the back of a spoon, but forget it. Instead, reach for tomato paste. I recommend a 100% paste with no salt, seasonings or preservatives added. A thin layer of paste does wonders (and you can still spread it with the back of a spoon if you desire). The concentrated natural sugars bake in nicely to the dough and even tend to caramelize if exposed just right.

As for the toppings, that’s up to you. If you keep the crust thin, try not to pile them up too heavy. The above pie has tomato paste, anchovies, artichoke hearts, bitter spring greens (mixed from the garden), pesto (frozen from the garden last year) and fresh mozzarella (from the Italian deli around the corner– they make their own!). A few days later the pizza hankering returned and we had a bitter green, fresh chives, pepperoni and mozzarella pie. Before that it was olives and bitter greens. (Notice the bitter green theme? The garden grows crazy.)

To make pizza-making as small a chore as possible the trick is to make a lot of dough. Double or triple the recipe then divide the results into balls, each ball enough for one full pie. Sprinkle with a little flour then wrap in plastic wrap and freeze. If you want pizza, remove the dough about 3 hours before starting your pie. Voila, pizza in under 30 minutes!

If you really cannot make the dough do NOT buy that “Moboli” stuff! Instead, head to your local pizza shop and ask to buy a ball of dough (they usually sell it for $2-3 a ball). If you do this, DO mix in some fresh herbs, and maybe some hot pepper flakes then roll out and continue.

This recipe is vaguely adapted from Peter Reinhart.

Herbed Pizza (Dough)
Makes enough for 3 pies. Prep time= 15 minutes. Inactive time= 2.75 hours. Cook time= 0 minutes.
2-1/4 cups whole wheat flour
2-1/4 cups all-purpose white flour
2 tablespoons herbs (fresh is best, whatever you like: rosemary, thyme, oregano are all good) OR 1 tablespoon dried
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon instant yeast
3 tablespoons olive oil
1-3/4 cups warm water

Use an electric mixer with a dough hook (or knead by hand). Mix flours, herbs, salt and yeast to combine. Add olive oil and water and knead/mix for 8 minutes. Dough should form a ball and no longer stick to the sides of your bowl. Dust with more flour, cover and let sit undisturbed for 2 hours. Punch down and let rise another 45 minutes. Divide the dough into three equal portions, dust with flour and wrap portions you will not be using in plastic wrap and freeze.

Sprinkle a work surface with cornmeal, dust a rolling pin with flour and roll out your dough to desired thickness. I recommend about 1/4 inch. At this point, begin heating your oven between 450-500 F. Transfer dough to a sheet pan and add toppings. Bake 12-15 minutes, until crust (and cheese if applied) are golden.

Tips: if you’re making a pizza with a non-cured meat (like sausage or chicken) make sure to cook the meat first. Same goes for fresh mushrooms, bell peppers or onions! I also like some hot pepper flakes sprinkled on top of the tomato paste.

Recommended toppings to mix and match: Anchovies, olives, artichoke hearts, mushrooms, fresh greens (some people like to cook these first slightly, I like how they crisp up at the edges), prosciutto, lamb sausage, pesto, chicken, chorizo, ramps, garlic slices, fresh herbs, caramelized onions, roasted red pepper, bacon, shrimp, mussels, clams, asparagus, eggplant, etc.

Don’t forget to mix and match the dairy too: yogurt, lebne, mozarella, goat cheese, blue cheese, etc.

As mentioned, once you have the frozen dough, just thaw and continue as usual. It’s fun to have pizza dough on hand “in case of emergency” and friends are amazed when you suggest you whip up a quick pie. You can also use the dough to make focaccia, or even crackers if desired. Just alter the topping and roll out width depending on what you make!

There is nothing like a good fishermen stew to wipe the gray days from our April galoshes. Nothing like a French fishermen stew to make us feel properly elegant. And nothing like a big ol’ pot simmering away to offer plenty of leftovers for the week to come (or freeze for the next rainy day).

Bouillabaisse (pronounced boo-ya-base), not only fun to say, is a delicious alternative to your basic fish soup. Even better, it is far healthier than its cream-based cousin, Chowder.

This fish stew comes to our shores via France as a way for fishermen to use up unsold leftovers from their catch. It comes to our plate today because I canned 25 quart jars of tomatoes and when I brainstormed uses for them beyond pasta, this was a dish listed (just after tomato ice cream).

What I love most about this dish, other than using up 2 jars of tomatoes, is the use of fennel. Woe is the lowly fennel bulb in the US marketplace that receives little attention. While I use fennel, and to a greater extent anise (fennel seeds) in dishes– most notable citrus-based salads, I loved the idea of adding it to a soup base. Fish is the perfect compliment to this tangy licorice-laced vegetable. (I used anise in my Bouillabaisse, noting it in the recipe, because it was what was on hand.) But thoughts of fennel have me dreaming of a spring fennel-potato cream soup. Thankfully, fennel seeds were planted last week in the garden.

I bulk of flavor of my stock comes from a cod head I purchased at my local fish monger. It’s flavor is far more subtle than fattier, stronger flavored fishes, like salmon, and provides a rich base to build on. After that, the remaining fish is a matter of preference and price. While there are Bouillabaisse purists who claim only certain seafood is allowed in a Bouillabaisse, I recommend a combination of favorite shellfish and fish that can hold up in a stock: clam, mussels, calamari, shrimp, cod and monkfish.

Another ingredient of Bouillabaisse is saffron. While I love the subtle sweet woodsy flavor of saffron, I believe the true winner in this dish is the fish. Saffron is expensive and I recommend forgoing this ingredient if you don’t have it around.

An interesting factoid to keep in mind once you get to adding the fish: Bouillabaisse is a combination of two French words bolhir, to boil, and abaissar, to simmer. So named because you add your first fish when the stock boils. Once added, the temperature drop, reducing the stock to a simmer. Return to a boil, add the next fish, again the stock is reduced to a simmer, and so forth. With each return to boil you can be assured that your fish is cooking through, without overdoing it– as long as you begin your bolhir with your fish that will cook from longest to shortest (approximately).

Bouillabaisse
Serving Size= 8. Prep Time= 20 minutes. Cook Time= 45 minutes.
12 clams
1 pound mussels
1 pound monkfish (with bone)
1/2 cup olive oil
2 onions, sliced thinly
1 4-inch length of orange peel
8 cloves garlic, crushed
1 tablespoon anise seeds (or 1 fennel bulb, sliced thinly)
1 cod head
4 generous pinches saffron
1 tablespoon dried herbs (thyme, rosemary, basil, marjoram would work)
2 quarts whole canned tomatoes, loosely chopped
1 pound cod, cut into 2-inch cubes
1 pound shrimp
1/2 pound calamari
salt/pepper to taste
1 bunch fresh parsley, chopped,  for garnish

Clean beards from mussels, set aside. Cover clams with room temperature salted water in a bowl, set aside. Remove monkfish from bone. Cut meat into 2-inch pieces, set bone aside.

Warm the olive oil in a large stock pot. Add onions and orange peel, saute 3 minutes. Add garlic and anise, stir 2 minutes. Add 2 quarts of water, monkfish bone and fish head. Bring to a boil then reduce heat and simmer 15 minutes. Remove bone and head. Stir in saffron until dissolved. Add dried herbs and tomatoes, return to a boil. Add clams. Return to a boil and stir to encourage opening. Add mussels. Return to a boil and stir to encourage opening. Continue to add shellfish and fish one at a time, returning the pot to a boil before each new addition. Stir the pot after each addition to encourage shellfish to open. Once calamari is added, cook just 2 to 3 minutes longer, remove from heat then salt and pepper to taste.

To serve, strain shellfish and fish into a large serving bowl or platter, sprinkle with half the parsley. Serve broth in bowls garnished with parsley. (Keeping these separate makes reheating easy– just reheat broth and once boiling, pour over fish and shellfish instead of recooking, eventually overcooking, fish and shellfish!) Bouillabaisse is often served with good crusty bread spread with a saffron mayonnaise and boiled potatoes.

I was going to post another post-summer wrap up when D told me I had to get these babies online– our Election Doughnuts.

We had a quart of raw milk go sour on us the other week so I’ve been attempting to use it up in baking applications. (Whereas raw milk will go sour and is still safe to consume (you can even consume it as a beverage), pasteurized milk goes rancid when it goes bad and should be discarded immediately when an off smell is noticed.)

I scanned baking books for quick recipes that required a lot of buttermilk (replacing it with my sour milk) and no matter how many cups I thought I’d be using up, I could swear this is a bottomless quart. Last week I made a loaf each of jalapeno cornbread and gingerbread, with milk to spare. But, it was a doughnut recipe I had been eyeing since the beginning of my search I was dying to try, but set aside because I didn’t think it used enough of the milk (only 3/4 a cup). This time, I hoped to finish off the milk.

We made this batter last night and fried up a few circular poppers before hitting the pillow, refrigerating the remaining dough (still unable to finish off the sour milk!). When a late afternoon snack was in order, and I rummaged for some cookie cutters that would work on the doughnuts, I pulled out a large square and a small star.

“This is weird,” D commented.

“No, cool.”

“Oh, wait, Election Doughnuts.”

A little more pre-thought and we could have made these rectangular (more flag shaped) with powdered sugar stripes (stencil some stripes)– maybe tomorrow with the last of the dough. As D transfered these out of the lard (that’s right, fried the good ol’ fashion way), I dusted them with powdered sugar and lamented, too bad we’re not having an election party tonight. But that just means more treats for us.

This batter was a bit of an experimentation. I prefer cake doughnuts, over yeasted (cake have a denser consistency), my favorite being the chocolate cake with sugar glaze. D is fond of the apple cider doughnut in fall months– also cake, so obviously a cake doughnut was in order. Step 1, doughnut style, over and easy.

Step 2 was to assemble a chocolate-cider doughnut without using D’s precious apple cider (he has found his new favorite beverage that combines apple cider, rum, brandy, lemon juice and maple syrup– or “all things perfect in fall” so I am not allowed to touch his cider). Instead, we went with semi-sweet chocolate and extra nutmeg for that fall flavor. Chocolate and nutmeg works, and the final doughnut had a hint of chocolate with a lingering nutmeg note. Nice.

Overall, I would have liked a little more rise in these doughnuts, but they were a good first time try. The finished consistency was good, but the chocolate flavoring isn’t there yet. Because I used semi-sweet chocolate, I reduced the sugar by 2 tablespoons. The end result was a doughnut that would make a good plain cake doughnut, but was not sweet enough to reach the chocolate cake or cider doughnut results desired, more sugar needed.

So if there is still time in your state, get out and vote– and eat your doughnut!

Chocolate-Cider Buttermilk Doughnut
Recipe TK

Clotted cream, or Devonshire Cream, is an all time favorite in this household. Forget a simple scone (and tea time for that matter), we’ll smear it onto cinnamon raisin toast, a hearty whole wheat soda bread, and just about any cracker-like formation at any time of the day. The biggest problem I have finding it, even in New York City, is that the good stuff (ie that imported from Devon, England) is hard to come by and fairly expensive for a mere 1-6 ounces. While high quality heavy cream isn’t that much cheaper, the taste of this homemade version is world’s better than any clotted cream I have been able to get my hands on State-side.

Clotted cream is similar to butter in that the fat content of the cream clots (hence clotted cream), but varies in that it is heated low and slow for several hours to bring the clots to the surface, rather than butter, which is agitated to form clots. The result is a slightly sweet and luxuriously smooth butter-like cream substance, or simply, clotted cream. It remains creamy when cold, though will still melt when smeared onto warm toast.
This super rich version is made with heavy cream from jersey cows (the cow breed, not the state). Many believe the higher the fat content of the cream you start with, the better your results. Do not attempt to make this with low-fat or ultra-pasteurized creams (remember: you need fat for this product!). Although a good quality organic full fat heavy cream (or whipping cream) will do, pasture-fed cows will produce the best quality clotted cream with a taste that will change with the seasons.

Brits will tell you clotted cream is best on scones at high tea, but I recommend you try it whenever the mood fits.

NOTE: Don’t let the long cook time throw you from making this recipe. It’s all undisturbed low-heat cooking followed by a night in the fridge.

Clotted Cream
Makes about 1.5 cups. Active time= about 10 minutes. Inactive time= 10 hours plus overnight.
2 cups heavy cream (raw cream or a good quality full-fat organic)

1) Preheat oven to 180 F. (This might just be a setting called “warm.”)
2) Place heavy cream in a heavy bottom ceramic, cast iron or enamel pot, about 8 inches by 13 inches. (You want to keep the cream shallow, but not so shallow it burns, 1-3 inches up the side is good.) Cover the pot and place in the center rack of the oven. Leave undisturbed 8-10 hours, until a dark yellow crust has formed on top of the cream.
3) Uncover and allow the cream to cool. Recover and place in the refrigerator overnight.
4) Using a spatula, pull the clotted cream from the dish and transfer to a storage container. Use leftover cream in baking applications. Use clotted cream in 4-5 days.

There are few things that remind me of the marvelous gifts of winter. Simply that a little bivalve can bring so much happiness. Or best yet, something that can make me believe I am sitting in front of my very own fireplace, in a cozy cabin, on a precipice overlooking a spraying bay. A bowl of chowder accomplishes all these things and more.

Clam chowder. Not that poor excuse of a chowder– the thin Manhattan tomato-based variety. Thick and creamy New England style, loaded with clams and root vegetables. The bounty of winter in a single bowl.

Clam chowder is a soup that makes me feel like a fisherman. Each time I finish a bowl it’s with an affirmative “arrrr, maty, t’was mighty fine gruel.” I smack the lingering ocean brine from my lips as I sadly realize no parrot sits on my shoulder, and I am simply in my New York City apartment (perhaps I believe I am a pirate?).

Oh you wicked tease clam chowder.

The best chowder I ever ate was along the New Jersey coast. I’m sure the late fall frigid temperatures played a part in its greatness. Or maybe because it was the only eating destination open. Possibly it was the giant yellow whale engraved against the blue hut that sold it. But there were four of us in total, taking a cold road trip to the shore for some R&R on the abandoned coast. That was good chowder.

The above chowder might be just as good. It smells of warm cream and ocean water and sticks to the bones just right on these wintry afternoons. It is not as heavy as other clam chowders you find. To thicken the broth and add some extra flavor, I added a puree of roasted root vegetables along with a scant 2 pints of heavy cream (2 pints is scant when you make a 20-quart pot of chowder). I also used a combination of smaller littleneck clams and larger cherrystones that were removed from their shells and chopped into the soup. I’ve adapted the recipe below to a simpler cherrystone-only version. Additionally, I had leftover lobster stock (frozen from mine and D’s Valentine’s lobster feast) that I used as stock. Any fish stock or a bottle of clam juice will work equally well.

New England Clam Chowder
Serving size= 6-8. Active time= 20 minutes. Inactive time= 30 minutes.
1 dozen cherrystone clams
2 strips bacon, chopped
1 onion, chopped
6 cloves garlic, minced
1 lb assorted root vegetables (potatoes, rutabaga, parsnips, carrots, turnips all work well), cut into 1 inch pieces
1 sprig thyme
2 8-ounce bottles clam juice (or a fish stock, 8 cups total)
2 cups water
1 pint heavy cream

1) Soak clams in lightly salted water for 30-60 minutes. This helps them spit out trapped sand from their shells.
2) In a 6-quart pot, bring 2 cups of lightly salted water to a boil. Add clams and cover, cook 2 minutes. Stir, cover and cook 2-3 minutes more, until all clams have opened up. Set clams aside and toss any clams that do not open. Strain the cooking liquid and set aside.
3) In the same pot (now without liquid), fry chopped bacon on medium-high heat until crisp. Remove from pot and set aside. Do not drain fat. Add chopped onion, saute 3 minutes. Add garlic, saute 1 minute more. Add chopped root vegetables, thyme sprig, bottled clam juice, retained clam juice cooking liquid and water. Cover, bring to a boil then reduce heat to a simmer and cook for 30 minutes, until root vegetables are soft.
4) While warming, remove clams from shells and chop roughly.
5) Once vegetables are soft, add heavy cream and stir to incorporate. Just before serving, stir in clams and bacon, season with salt and pepper and serve.