To say that I love a bargain is an understatement. I’ve never fawned over the vanilla-scented gourmet kitchen stores at the mall— the ones that sell the high-dollar pan sets, expensive crystal, and pre-made mixes for quick breads and specialty gravy bases. Those stores are filled with lovely things, don’t get me wrong. But you’re more likely to find me pacing the aisles at T.J. Maxx, Home Goods and Big Lots, where I’ve found many a bargain. I’m not talking about low prices for cheap items, but the way. It’s quality at a better price that I want, and I’m willing to take my chances with the unpredictability of these bargain stores’ inventories.
For example, my Italian-made pasta rolling machine that had been on my wish list for at least two Christmases (if not for the $100+ price tag), jumped into my cart unexpectedly about 12 years ago for the low, low price of— well, zoom in on the picture below and see for yourself. The exact item sells today at the vanilla-scented store for $149.95. I’d rather apply that hundred-dollar savings to the food I will make with the thing and just sniff my own bottle of vanilla at home as I delight in my good fortune.
Likewise, my Braun immersion blender, which is still going strong after pureeing hundreds of soups and cheese sauces for the past 15 years, only set me back $17. Could we please have a moment of silence for Tuesday Morning? Thank you. Oh, how I miss that store.
Another super find that has served me well is my Cuisinart Pure Indulgence 2-quart ice cream maker, and this was a major scoop at only $49, but wait, it gets better! I bought this when Big Lots was still doing its old rewards program of 20% off an item after 10 purchases of $20 or more. In other words, I only spent $39 for an ice cream machine that retailed for more than double that price. The purchases I made to get that discount were staple items that I would have bought anyway— mostly Bob’s Red Mill products and cleaning supplies.
It’s the thrill of the hunt that I love, but I also enjoy having these quality items in my cabinets because they make it easier for me to produce delicious foods for myself and my loved ones. Plus, I can count on them to last a long time.
This past week, I made my latest ice cream— using my Cuisinart machine, of course— and though I don’t usually post two desserts in a row, I decided to share this right away for a couple of reasons. First, it’s super easy and might take some pressure off my foodie friends as we all plan the various holiday meals on the horizon. Second, it’s a natural follow-up to a question posed by my New Jersey blog buddy, Bernadette, in the comments section of my pumpkin chai blondies post a few days ago. I’m keeping good on my promise. 😁
Here it is, Bern— not maple, but cinnamon, and I think you’re gonna love it! The base takes mere minutes to make, and the ingredient list is short: just cinnamon stirred into sweetened condensed milk (fat-free is totally fine here), then milk and heavy cream, plus a little splash of vanilla (or vanilla bean paste, if you’re me).
It’s worth mentioning that the cinnamon and vanilla bean paste were purchased at Home Goods, in the gourmet foods section. 🙂
I chilled the base thoroughly in the fridge for a few hours, and then my Cuisinart churned it into silky ice cream in about 25 minutes. Into the freezer for overnight ripening, and it was done.
This cinnamon ice cream is the little black dress of the holiday dessert table— versatile and perfect for any type of occasion. It was a great complement to the pumpkin chai blondies, but it would also be a stunning sidekick to my pal Christine’s mile high apple pie, or the festive fig butter cranberry apple galette that I made last fall. How about chocolate cake or pecan pie or— well, what desserts are you making this holiday season that would be good with a sweet scoop of cinnamon ice cream?
This easy-to-make ice cream is creamy, delicious on its own, and pairs nicely with nearly any autumn or holiday dessert.
Ingredients
14 oz. can sweetened condensed milk (regular or fat-free, see recipe notes)
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 cup whole milk
1 cup heavy cream
2 teaspoons vanilla extract or 1 Tablespoon vanilla bean paste
1 Tablespoon vodka (optional, added in the final minute for improved texture)
Notes: When you mix the ice cream base, add the cinnamon to the sweetened condensed milk first. Ground spices tend to “float” on liquids, so this helps to incorporate it into the mix before the thinner liquids are added.
I’ve found the fat-free version of condensed milk perfectly acceptable for making ice cream, with only one caveat: plan to use the ice cream within a couple of days of making it, or the texture may become more icy than creamy.
Directions
Combine sweetened condensed milk and cinnamon in a large bowl and whisk to thoroughly incorporate the cinnamon. Whisk in milk, cream and vanilla. Cover the bowl and refrigerate until the mixture is thoroughly chilled, at least a couple of hours.
Set up your ice cream machine. Gently whisk the ice cream base to re-blend any ingredients that may have settled during chilling. Pour the ice cream base into the machine and churn according to manufacturer’s instructions. My Cuisinart gets this done in about 25 minutes. Add vodka during the final minute of churning to make the ice cream easier to scoop directly from the freezer (omit this step if the ice cream will be served to children or other non-drinkers).
Transfer the ice cream to an insulated freezer container and freeze at least eight hours, preferably 24 hours, to ripen.
Is it fair to call these autumn-hued bar cookies “blondies?” Unlike classic blondies, which have a light golden color and are basically just chocolate chip bar cookies, these stunningly brilliant treats practically scream fall, with a deep orange color born from half a can of pumpkin puree. What else shall we call them— russets? Auburns?
They are still in essence a “blondie,” which is meant to have all the delightfully chewy texture of brownies, just without the cocoa. But these have a lot more going on, with add-ins of white and dark chocolate chips and crunchy pecan bits on top (well, half of it, anyway). There’s a lot to love here, and I have no doubt there are many other add-ins that would be great.
What do you think— maybe dried cranberries or butterscotch chips?
Let’s start with the fact that they satisfy any craving for pumpkin and spice— though this recipe does incorporate a more assertive spice blend than most “pumpkin spice” foods. To kick these up a few notches, I used equal parts Vietnamese cinnamon and chai spice, an Indian-inspired blend of cinnamon, ginger, cardamom, anise and black pepper (yes, really). The bold spices gave these blondies an edge over some of the too-sweet, ordinary desserts you find in a supermarket bakery, and the flavor is still familiar but with a little special something.
I’ve been looking for ways to sneak pumpkin into so many things.
The downside of baking with pumpkin puree is that most recipes I’ve tried tend to be more cake-like than chewy— which is great when you want a cupcake, but not so much if you crave a cookie or blondie— and this is because of the high moisture content of the canned pumpkin. To counter this, I pulled a trick from the King Arthur Baking playbook, which is to cook the pumpkin puree until it is somewhat caramelized. The result is a thicker, more concentrated pumpkin flavor and a denser, more fudge-like texture of the finished auburns— er, blondies. I cooked mine with a bit of the brown sugar from the recipe, and the result was almost like pumpkin butter. So good!
I had a weird clump in my brown sugar container, so I dissolved it by cooking it with the pumpkin.
For additional autumn-inspired flavor, this recipe leans on browned butter, which is very easy to make though I don’t recommend trying to do it while multitasking the other components of the recipe. Browning butter takes very little effort but quite a bit of attention. Look away long enough to measure out your flour or caramelize your pumpkin, for example, and you may just find that the butter has turned to a charred, blackish liquid. I guess you can tell that I’m speaking from experience! 🤷🏻♀️
My butter was off to a good start, but it went too far. Oops!
My second attempt went much better!
Other than that, it’s a typical dessert recipe— flour (I used part whole wheat), baking powder, egg, sugar (light brown, in this case), splash of vanilla and some white and dark chocolate chips just for fun. For a little extra something, I also scattered pecan bits over half of the blondies after spreading it out into the baking pan. This is optional, and if you have any guests who cannot digest nuts, follow my lead and sprinkle the nuts on half. Everyone wins!
These came together really easily.
This was a fun fall dessert that would be nice for a casual Thanksgiving meal, the kids’ table, a brunch with friends, a treat for a special teacher or perhaps a snack for visiting grandkids that’s a bit healthier without them knowing it! As for us, we enjoyed it warmed 30 seconds in the microwave with a small scoop of ice cream. Delish!
Cooking the pumpkin puree before mixing the batter keeps this autumn-hued blondies nice and chewy, and the flavor will make you wish for fall to linger a little longer.
Ingredients
2 sticks unsalted butter
1 cup pumpkin puree
1 cup light brown sugar, packed
1 large egg, room temperature
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup white whole wheat flour
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
1 tsp. ground chai spice blend
1 tsp. kosher salt (I used Diamond crystals)
3/4 tsp. baking powder
1 cup white chocolate chips
1 cup dark chocolate chips
1/2 cup pecan bits (optional, or 1/4 cup for half the blondies)
Directions
Melt the butter in a saucepan, swirling frequently and watching carefully to prevent burning. Cook melted butter until it takes on a deep golden color and has a nutty aroma. Allow it to cool for about half an hour.
Meanwhile, add pumpkin puree and a few tablespoons of the brown sugar to a second saucepan. Cook over medium heat, stirring almost constantly, until sugar is dissolved and pumpkin puree has reduced slightly. Cool completely before proceeding.
Preheat oven to 350° F, with oven rack in center position. Line a 9 x 13 baking pan with parchment paper, keeping a little extra to overhang for easy lifting of the blondies from the pan after baking.
In a large mixing bowl (or the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with paddle), stir together browned butter and remaining brown sugar until evenly combined. Add reduced pumpkin puree and egg. Beat until combined.
In a medium bowl, whisk together flours with spices, baking powder and salt. Add half the flour mixture to the butter mixture, folding just until all the dry ingredients are incorporated. Repeat with remaining flour blend. Gently fold in chocolate chips. The batter will be very thick and dense.
Spread batter evenly over parchment-lined baking pan. Sprinkle pecan chips over all or half the blondies, if desired. Bake for 30 minutes, or until blondies are set but not overly dry. Remember that they will continue to cook for a few minutes after removal. As with brownies, the type of pan may affect the outcome. For a glass pan, add a few extra minutes to the baking time.
Cool for about 30 minutes before using parchment to lift blondies from the pan. Cut into squares for serving. Keep leftover blondies wrapped or in a sealed container, at room temperature for up to three days.
These warm up beautifully in the microwave (give them 30 to 45 seconds on high), and they are delicious served with a scoop of ice cream.
Here’s an easy, kid-friendly main dish that brings back a lot of memories from my childhood. There were just a few foods that my mother made on repeat, including some of the Mexican-themed meals I’ve shared here. Ground beef tacos were in hot rotation, as was tuna noodle casserole, green chili burritos and something she called “Swiss steak.” Once in a while, she also whipped up a pot of good old American goulash, but not quite the way I’ve prepared this batch. My single mom was all about shortcuts in the kitchen, so her version of goulash usually involved a jar of store-bought spaghetti sauce, probably Ragú, given that there weren’t many other brands available in the 1970s when I lived with her.
In the traditional sense, goulash— which has its roots in Hungarian cuisine— would not have the Italian flavors found in spaghetti sauce, and I’ve come around to making it my own way in my adult years. I do use ground beef, as my mom did, and this is a distinct Americanization of goulash, which would traditionally be made with stewed cuts of meat, plus vegetables and probably potatoes.
Not a Hungarian goulash, but so delish! And look at that brilliant Halloween color.
My version brings back some of the traditional goulash flavor, seasoned with plenty of smoked paprika, canned whole tomatoes, bell peppers, onions and garlic. In the devilish spirit of Halloween, I have also taken the liberty of adding some fiery heat in the form of a fresh jalapeño, chopped up with seeds and all. Even when I was a kid, I loved spicy flavors, and that was my mother’s influence, especially during the years we lived in southern Colorado.
If you’re not feeling it for the fire, or if you’re feeding little goblins whose taste buds aren’t quite there yet, feel free to omit the jalapeño, and maybe pull back on the smoked paprika a bit, too. Cooked pasta is another “American” twist on goulash, and I like large elbows for this because the shape is open to grab up plenty of that flavorful sauce, and it’s also easy to pick up with your fork, along with the tasty bits of meat, onion and pepper.
One last thing, and this is also a departure from my mom’s old standby recipe but is very popular in my house today. Just before serving, I stir in a half cup or so of shredded sharp cheddar. It’s a tangy little twist that makes this an even heartier meal, or perhaps even a graveyard smash. 👻
This is my adaptation of a dish I had countless times during my childhood. It makes good use of simple pantry ingredients and it is economical, using ground meat of your choice. I prefer it served from the stovetop, but it easy to adapt to a baked dish if you prefer to make it ahead.
Ingredients
Extra virgin olive oil
1 pound lean ground meat (beef, bison or turkey work well)
1/2 sweet or yellow onion, chopped
1 bell pepper, chopped (use green, red or a combination)
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 fresh jalapeño (optional), minced with or without seeds
Salt and pepper
1 teaspoon smoked paprika (Hungarian is traditional, but Spanish works nicely)
15 oz. can diced tomatoes, including juice
8 oz. can low-sodium tomato sauce
1/2 pound large elbow macaroni
About 1/2 cup shredded sharp or medium cheddar cheese
You can adjust the smoke and spice of this dish to your liking. For less heat, discard the seeds and membranes of the jalapeño or omit it entirely. For extra “smoke,” use two teaspoons of the paprika. For less smoke, substitute sweet paprika.
Directions
Bring a pot of salted water to boil for cooking the pasta. Heat a medium size, heavy-bottomed pot over medium heat. Swirl in a tablespoon or so of olive oil and add the ground meat, a little bit at a time, cooking until most of the pink color is gone.
Add chopped and minced vegetables and season with salt and pepper. Cook and stir until vegetables are softened and onions are slightly translucent.
Stir in paprika and then add tomatoes and tomato sauce. Reduce heat and cook at low temperature, stirring occasionally to prevent burning.
While the goulash mixture simmers, cook the pasta to al dente or desired doneness for serving from the stovetop. If you intend to bake the dish after mixing, undercook the pasta slightly as it will continue to absorb moisture and cook during baking.
Add cooked pasta and a few tablespoons of the pasta water to the meat mixture. Gently fold to combine. Stir in shredded cheddar and serve. If baking, transfer the mixture to a casserole dish and bake at 350° F for about 40 minutes. Consider topping the casserole with extra cheese before baking.
My husband and I have decided to spice things up a bit. You know how it goes after almost seven years of marriage, where every day feels the same? As empty nesters and second-time-arounders, Les and I are each pretty open about what we want and need in our relationship. So, after several months of back-and-forth on how to make things more exciting, we finally took a big, adventurous step.
We adopted a kitten! And boy is she sweet. Meet Nadia!
So spunky!
This was not a light decision. A 4-month-old kitty needs constant monitoring, extra playtime and frequent feedings. And then there are the midnight zoomies, constant crashes, jingly toys everywhere and the never-ending untangling of the window blind cords. Nadia has given us a physical and emotional workout, but she is undeniably adorable.
And then there’s Taz, our 12-year old fur baby— about equal to my husband’s age of 64— for whom this has been no cakewalk.
One of the few pictures that captured how small Nadia really was. 🙂
When our beloved dog, Nilla, went to the Rainbow Bridge back in March, Taz found herself the only pet in the house for the first time in her life. She has appreciated being the sole recipient of our attention when we are home, but anytime we take a trip longer than a couple of days, it’s clear to us that she is lonely. This sweet little fluff ball, we hoped, would change that.
If you don’t think this is precious, I’m not sure we can be friends.
A couple of weeks into the introduction process (slow and steady, in compliance with all the YouTube videos offered by “the Cat Daddy,” Jackson Galaxy), something seemed very “off” for Miss Taz, and this nervous mama booked a vet appointment. Taz got a full exam, a couple of chest X-rays and a round of blood work, but nobody could offer a solid reason for her coughing and gulping, or explain why she literally lost her meow and spent two days hiding under the bed. We came home with a bunch of papers and some pain meds (for what, I’m not sure) but by the next day, her symptoms had expanded to include a wet, rattly cough that might have been nothing or could have been devastating. Ugh.
Did we make a mistake getting a kitten? I was terrified that something serious was wrong with Taz and now— with the demands of a sass-butt little whippersnapper in the house— we would not be able to focus on taking care of our senior cat, whom I had promised would always be my baby. By that time, of course, it was the weekend. The blood work results from our Friday vet visit wouldn’t be in until Monday and I was a total wreck.
Thankfully, the emergency vet is only five minutes from our house, but that was the only easy part of this adventure. Six hours, two more X-rays, an unpleasant confrontation with the reception team, another round of blood work and— wait for it— a thousand dollars later, Taz was diagnosed with what amounts to a kitty cold. Respiratory infection of some sort, and the vet said it is common for a shelter kitten to bring this kind of thing into the home. Not that anyone is blaming the kitten; she did nothing wrong, and showed no symptoms herself.
No wonder Taz was mad; she was surrounded by dog pictures!
Now, there’s a fair argument here that when Taz started sounding worse, she was actually feeling a little better. By the time the vet techs called for Taz, she was pissed. She hates the carrier crate, doesn’t like to be touched (or even spoken to) by strangers and didn’t appreciate the wait. They sedated her for the X-rays, for what little good it did because she still fought them like hell, as she did me and Les when we tried to coax her into the crate at home. She was described by both the tech and the doctor as “a very spicy kitty,” a big departure from the limp, near-lifeless cats they are used to seeing in their facility. All I could say was, “That’s my girl!” I was so grateful that her problem wasn’t more serious. An antibiotic injection and liquid steroid regimen was all she needed. It has been almost four weeks, and Taz is doing great.
With the crisis averted, we didn’t even mention this emergency visit to most of our friends here, because at that point, it had been handled and our fur baby was on the mend. Lo and behold, getting Taz feeling better has also led to more positive interactions between her and the new kitten— that is, except for the ongoing battle over who gets the top spot in the cat tree, which Taz had ignored until Nadia showed up. It’s all quite entertaining!
Nadia is the sweetest, most affectionate and loving kitten I’ve ever raised. A perfect complement to the spicy diva who sets the tone here.
Taz remains queen of the perch!
All’s well that ends well, and this story is far from over. 🥰
A shrug. That’s pretty much all I get from my husband when I mention that I might whip up a batch of cornbread. As a born-and-raised New York City guy, he’s more into bagels and dinner rolls than grainy, dense cornbread.
But that was before I decided to put jalapeño and honey into it. 😉
We are counting the days until we tear out what’s left of our “well, we tried” summer garden, and the jalapeños are making a valiant effort to compensate for the disappointment of everything else I attempted to grow this year. With four jalapeño plants, and plenty of post-summer full sun, I’m pretty much sneaking these spicy peppers into everything I can. That works out great for my heat-loving husband, and I found it easy to substitute honey for the usual sugar in my favorite cornbread recipe.
And that brings me to an important point— you don’t have to use my recipe to enjoy jalapeño-honey cornbread. If you have a favorite recipe already, a few simple adjustments might just make this a favorite at your house, too.
This was so good with leftover autumn minestrone! Imagine it with a bowl of chili or black bean soup. Mmm.
A couple of quick notes— jalapeño can range in Scoville units (the heat factor), but you can take charge of the overall intensity with a simple decision of keeping or removing the seeds and membranes. The other note is about the honey. I used a local wildflower honey, and because honey is sweeter than cane sugar, you can get away with using a little less than the amount of sugar called for in the recipe.
If you’d like to bake your cornbread in a cast-iron skillet, I recommend melting a tablespoon or so of butter in the skillet over medium heat before adding the batter and moving it to the oven. This extra butter will ensure clean, even wedges straight from the pan and almost no cleanup!
My inspiration recipe, as expected, comes from my favorite flour company, King Arthur Baking. I made a few modifications, including swapping honey for sugar and subbing in a portion of white whole wheat for nutrition and flavor. Plus, of course, the jalapeños! I also whipped up a small batch of honey butter for drizzling at serving time. 😋
Just two ingredient swaps are throwing a big flavor twist onto a classic cornbread. This will be great with almost any rustic soup you make this fall and winter!
Ingredients
1 cup all-purpose flour
3/4 cup white whole wheat flour
1 cup cornmeal
2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. baking soda
3/4 tsp. fine sea salt
1 large jalapeño, diced (seeds or no seeds, depending on your heat tolerance)
1 1/4 cups milk, warmed (I used whole milk, but 2%, skim or plant milk would be fine)
3 Tbsp. local wildflower honey
1 large egg, room temperature
1/4 cup expeller-pressed canola oil
1/2 stick butter, melted (plant butter would be fine)
1 additional tablespoon butter for melting in the skillet (or buttering a baking dish)
This is delicious drizzled with honey butter. To make some, stir honey into softened, salted butter until smooth. At room temperature, it will drizzle nicely over the warm cornbread. If chilled, it will be more firm but still spreadable. Store leftover cornbread wrapped tightly in foil, or freeze for later.
Directions
Preheat oven to 350°F, with rack in center position. Place a cast iron skillet over medium heat and melt the extra tablespoon of butter into it.
Measure out and whisk together the dry ingredients in a large batter bowl. Toss the jalapeños into that mixture as well.
Combine the wet ingredients, blending well to completely mix in the honey.
Pour the wet mixture into the bowl with the dry ingredients and fold gently several times until dry ingredients are fully incorporated.
Pour the batter into the hot, buttered skillet and slide the pan into the oven to bake for about 20 minutes. Cool for a few minutes, then cut into wedges and enjoy!
This post is kind of a recipe within a recipe, and my inspiration for the soup was born from my effort to make pasta using sourdough discard. I know— who would imagine such a thing, right? When Les and I traveled to Nashville, Tenn. recently, we met some friends for dinner and got to talking about gluten issues that each of them suffer. Our friend, Dick, said he had found real sourdough bread more digestible and that a few gluten-free breads were helpful to satisfy his carb cravings, but that pasta had been another story; it always left him feeling bloated and uncomfortable, and he didn’t enjoy the texture of the gluten-free options on the market. He knew about my food blog, and he said, “if you could make a real pasta that I could eat and enjoy…”
And over here was me— just hating the thought of someone missing out on a favorite food. There has to be a way, and I’m on a mission to find a way to ease the uncomfortable symptoms that gluten brings to people with mild or moderate sensitivities. If I can figure this out, and then advance to making an egg-free version that is suitable to dry, I will send some to Dick for feedback. My version is not gluten-free, obviously (I use wheat flour), but the fermentation process changes the gluten structure and exhausts the anti-nutrients that mess with non-celiac individuals, and that just might be enough for Dick. We’ll see.
I’ll let you know how things progress with the sourdough pasta quest, but my immediate challenge was finding a good way to use my test batch. I used a combination of all-purpose, white whole wheat and semolina flours, plus sourdough discard and eggs, to make my pasta dough. It had been chilling in the fridge for a day, and I rolled it into ropes and shaped it into little gnocchi-meets-shell-shaped things. The first thing that came to mind for these little bites was soup, and here we are!
Mmmm, so good!
This soup brings together the best of two things for me— a whole bunch of terrific early fall ingredients and an all-day simmered vegetable soup. Sweet potatoes are abundant already this season, so I cut up a large one and roasted it with a touch of olive oil, salt and pepper. I could have put the cubes right into the soup, but I knew this would be a long simmer and I didn’t want them to turn to mush. Besides, roasting sweet potatoes caramelizes them and intensifies their autumn flavor. This turned out to be worth the extra step, for sure.
The corn season runs long around here, so I had Les grill up a couple extra ears when we had it for dinner recently. I stripped the kernels and set them aside while I prepared to build the soup base with carrots, celery and onion (otherwise known as mirepoix), plus poblano pepper and garlic. Whole canned tomatoes went in next, then mushrooms and veggie broth.
The only seasoning I added to this soup— other than the usual kosher salt and black pepper— was a couple of bay leaves. Anytime I make a simmered soup, stew or roast, bay leaf is like a magic ingredient that is not only flavorful but highly aromatic.
After a nice, long simmer—about an hour— I removed the bay leaves, added two “fat handfuls” of chopped kale, more broth and my homemade sourdough pasta (which went in straight from the freezer), and brought it up to a gentle simmer to cook the pasta through.
Finally, my soup was ready for the roasted add-ins I had prepared earlier, and dinner was served!
My friends, this autumn minestrone was far and away more delicious than any other vegetable soup I’ve ever made! All those flavors melded together wonderfully, and between the roasted, grilled and simmered vegetables, there was plenty of interesting texture, too.
The pasta cooked up like pudgy, tender dumplings and the tangy earthiness of the sourdough was a really nice complement to some of the sweeter flavors in the soup. If I had not been experimenting with the homemade sourdough pasta, any box pasta with hefty texture would have been a good choice (think rotini, trumpets or those cute little wagon wheels). Using box pasta would also have kept my soup vegan; the eggs in the pasta dough disqualified it from that category.
Oh, this soup hit the spot on a dreary, rainy early autumn day. But you can bet I won’t wait for another one to make this soup again!
This soup brings together the best of two things for me— a whole bunch of terrific early fall ingredients and an all-day simmered vegetable soup.
Ingredients
1 large sweet potato, peeled and cubed (about
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil, divided (you’ll use a tablespoon to roast the sweet potato and the rest to sauté vegetables in the pot)
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 sweet onion, chopped
2 medium carrots, peeled and thinly sliced
2 ribs celery, strings removed and sliced
2 cloves garlic, finely minced
1 poblano pepper, chopped
28 oz. can whole peeled tomatoes, drained (reserve liquid for another recipe)
6 cups low-sodium vegetable broth, divided (see directions for breakdown)
2 bay leaves
8 oz. carton cremini mushrooms, cleaned and sliced
2 fat handfuls kale, washed and rough chopped
1/2 pound pasta shapes (homemade or otherwise)
2 ears roasted corn, kernels cut from cob
Notes: I roasted the sweet potatoes first so that their flavor could be concentrated, and to keep them from turning mushy in the soup. Butternut squash would be a great substitute. I used a fresh homemade pasta that was shaped like baby gnocchi. My pasta contained eggs and I added to the soup straight from the freezer. Dry pasta such as elbows or rotini would be a great substitute.
Directions
Preheat oven to 350° F, with rack in center position. Line a sheet pan with parchment and arrange sweet potato cubes in a single layer. Drizzle with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Roast about 45 minutes, until sweet potatoes are reduced in size and golden on all the edges. Set aside.
While the sweet potatoes are roasting, place a deep, heavy-bottomed pot over medium heat. Swirl in remaining olive oil and sauté the onions, carrots, celery and poblano peppers. Season with salt and pepper and cook until translucent. Add the garlic and continue to cook until vegetables are very soft.
Use your hands to squeeze the whole tomatoes into the pot. Add 4 cups of the vegetable broth and bring to a slight boil. Adjust salt to taste. Reduce heat to simmer.
Add sliced mushrooms and bay leaves and simmer for about an hour. Stir in chopped kale leaves until wilted. Add remaining vegetable broth and bring to a gentle boil.
Add pasta straight from the box or freezer and cook it in the minestrone until tender.
Finally, stir in corn kernels and roasted sweet potatoes. Make a final adjustment to salt and pepper, and then cook on low until heated through.
I woke up this morning, fully aware of Autumn. I did not need the calendar to tell me that it has officially begun; the weather spells it out quite clearly— gentle rain from the mid-season tropical system moving up our coast a few hours away, cooler temperatures and a stillness that I haven’t witnessed since I’m not sure when. Even the cicadas, which North Carolina sees and hears every summer, have gone about their business.
This is my favorite time of year, and the gears in my mind are churning out visions of stews and soups and homemade breads and all-day roasts. I tolerate the blistering heat of these southern summers only for the joy of autumn, and it should come as no surprise that the foods are my favorite thing. This is the start of Sunday Supper season!
Porchetta— a recipe of central Italian origin— had been on my culinary bucket list since before I started this blog, and for the life of me, I don’t know why I imagined it to be complicated. As roasts go, it was probably one of the simplest I’ve ever made. Perhaps it is because I have looked it up so many times over the years that I already had a sense of how to make it. Or maybe it really is just easy. I’ll let you review my process and decide.
There are many, many recipes for porchetta on the internet. Opinions vary (of course) about what makes it truly authentic, and this argument seems to be regional. In some parts of Italy, it might be an entire suckling pig that is stuffed with herbs (or not) and roasted. In others, it would be only the pork belly, rolled upon itself with a filling of the pig’s entrails (yuck). Still others have you wrapping the belly around a pork loin or (as is the case with mine) tenderloin.
My kitchen is not located in any region of Italy, so I took a few liberties, based on what sounded like the most flavorful “authentic” option. My filling was very fragrant and herbal, with garlic, fennel and rosemary, plus a generous spoonful of lemon zest and a few shakes of dried Calabrian chile flakes. I want to make another batch of this just as aromatherapy when I’m having a bad day.
In my research, I learned that there is a difference between fennel seed and fennel pollen, the latter of which I had to purchase online because no stores around here carry it. Perhaps where you are, an Italian market could set you up with some. The fennel pollen is very delicate and fragrant and is distinctly brighter and lighter than fennel seed. The small tin, which is roughly half the size of an Altoid tin, set me back about $18, but I only used one-quarter of it.
Putting the roast together was so easy. I began by measuring a piece of kitchen twine around the package of pork, and then I cut several pieces to that length and soaked them in cold water, for tying up my porchetta. My local butcher had cut the belly piece to match the length of the tenderloin, and even took time to show me the right steps for success, as the belly must be rolled in a certain direction for easy slicing and perfect tenderness.
He had also echoed what I had seen in every recipe, which is that the roasted skin should be golden brown and “crackling” crisp. To achieve this, I scored the skin side of the belly in a crosshatch pattern, which would ease the rendering of the thick layer of fat. This process is simple to do, but you need to use something very sharp to cut through the heavy skin. I opted for a razor blade scraper— yep, the same kind of tool you’d use to scrape paint off a window pane. It may sound odd, but it was perfect because it was easy to control the cuts and nearly impossible to go too deep. Scoring the skin this way also made it more flexible for wrapping around the tenderloin.
I spread that aromatic filling evenly over the inside of the pork belly, all the way to the edges, and rolled it up around the tenderloin and then laid it across my soaked twine pieces. I tied it up, sprinkled it all over with kosher salt and laid it on a rack to dry out overnight in the fridge. If it seems counterintuitive that drying out the meat before roasting leads to a juicier finish, believe me, I feel you. This was a huge mental hurdle for me when I first read about dry brining, but I have such incredible results that I will never look back.
Eighteen hours later, when I was ready to roast my porchetta, I pulled it from the fridge and gave it some time to rest at room temperature while I preheated the oven to 350° F. There was nothing left but to roast it!
Sometimes the simplest dishes intimidate me, and I attribute this to unfamiliarity. I don’t have an ounce of Italian heritage, so nobody in my family has ever made porchetta. The only way to overcome insecurity in the kitchen is to muster up the courage to try that new thing. I’m thrilled to move porchetta into the done column on my bucket list!
It may surprise you to know that porchetta is likely a one-and-done for me, but not for any bad reason. The roast was off-the-chart delicious, easy to make, and it produced fantastic leftovers.
My hesitation for a repeat begins with the cost. Sure, a grocery store pork belly and tenderloin would be cheaper than the $70 I spent at my local butcher. But we don’t buy a lot of grocery store meat because we object to most conventional production methods. Our local butcher sources its meats from area farmers who follow sustainability practices such as regenerative farming. This is better for the environment and the animals, and also a vast improvement in terms of flavor.
Porchetta is not the kind of thing you can make in small quantity for a party of two, though, which is how we usually cook and eat. I might consider making it again for a special occasion meal with guests, but many of our friends steer clear of fatty meat, and that is another point of contention for us. A single slice of porchetta includes the equivalent of three to four pieces of bacon, and that’s a lot of fat to consume in one meal, no matter how delicious (and boy, oh boy, it is). With more practice, I could probably figure out how to tie up and roast the porchetta for more even fat rendering, so that we didn’t end up with a lot of bulky fat that was not suitable to eat.
Finally, there’s the skin, which— for all the ruckus and raving about the crackling crispness— did not impress me much. Our porchetta did get very crackly, but that “perfect” skin simply is not edible. It was like biting into a Lego. And the hardness of the crackled skin also made slicing the porchetta quite challenging. If I ever do make this again, I’d probably score the skin in straight squares rather than on a diagonal, so that I can use the score lines as a guide for slicing. But it’s still kind of a waste because you can’t eat that beautiful skin.
Here’s what I’m thinking: the best things about this porchetta were its tenderness and the incredible aroma and flavor of the filling. So why couldn’t I apply the fennel pollen mixture to some other cut of marbled pork? Maybe a boneless, butterflied shoulder, which I could roll up with the herb filling and slow roast (or smoke— wouldn’t that be something)? I’m even imagining that incorporating the fennel pollen filling ingredients into a homemade sausage isn’t a terrible idea, so don’t be surprised if that shows up here in the near future.
If you have been jonesing to try porchetta yourself, it’s definitely worth the effort, and maybe you’ll find something useful for your own experience in my click-to-print recipe below. Please slip a note in the comments if you have tips that might make it worth a second run for me, and do let me know what autumn meal you’re most looking forward to!
There's so much incredible flavor in this Italian-born pork roast, and the leftovers are even tastier!
Ingredients
fresh pork tenderloin
fresh pork belly, cut to length of tenderloin
kosher salt, weighing 1.5% of total meat weight
2 Tbsp. fresh minced garlic (this was about 5 cloves)
1 Tbsp. fresh lemon zest (organic is best)
1 Tbsp. fennel pollen (tricky to find; check Italian market or online)
1 tsp. red pepper flakes (I love the Calabrian chiles from Flatiron Pepper Co.)
1 tsp. fresh rosemary, chopped (I would have used more of this if my hubby was a fan)
1 tsp. fennel seed, toasted until fragrant and then crushed to nearly a powder
About 30 twists of freshly ground black peppercorn
Notes: You will need a few things for success with this recipe. First, kitchen twine for tying up the roast. Plan for at least 5 feet, and soak it in cold water while you prep the roast. Also, a roasting rack to keep the porchetta above the pan during overnight fridge rest and roasting. Finally, a good meat thermometer to help you track the internal temperature.
Directions
Score skin side of the pork belly with very sharp knife or razor blade. This will help render the fat better during cooking, plus it will deliver a crackling skin. Scoring also makes the belly a bit more flexible for easier wrapping around the tenderloin.
Cut several pieces of unbleached butcher’s twine, long enough to wrap and tie around rolled up belly. I used the packaged meat to help me determine how long I needed the pieces to be. Soak the twine lengths in cold water until ready to wrap.
Mix the herb filling, including salt that equals 1.5% of the meat weight.
Line a sheet pan with parchment or foil and place a small roasting rack on it to hold the porchetta roast.
Spread the herbal filling over the meat side of the pork belly, all the way to the edges. Place the tenderloin on the belly, perpendicular to the lines on the cut sides of the belly. The sides of the belly resemble the lines of bacon.
Roll up the roast, but not so tightly that you lose the filling. Check the open ends; the tenderloin should look as if surrounded by a ring of bacon.
Place the rolled roast across several soaked pieces of twine and tie it up, securing each twine with a knot. Sprinkle the porchetta all over with about 1 teaspoon kosher salt and place the sheet pan (uncovered) in the refrigerator overnight, up to 24 hours.
Remove roast from the fridge and bring to room temperature while preheating oven to 350° F. Oven rack should be slightly lower than center.
Roast uncovered for about 4 hours, until skin is crackled all over and internal temperature is 160° F. Cover loosely with foil and rest for about 15 minutes before slicing.
Autumn begins this Saturday. Finally. What a summer it has been, with record-shattering heat waves and treacherous weather conditions reported from every corner of the globe. I think we all need the break, and as much as I am usually ready for fall, this year I feel almost desperate for it.
Leaves are falling all around time I was on my way Thanks to you, I’m much obliged such a pleasant stay But now it’s time for me to go the autumn moon lights my way For now I smell the rain and with it pain and it’s headed my way
“Ramble On” ~ Robert Plant & Jimmy Page
With the autumn moon just ahead, and fresh, late-summer blackberries singing their swan song, I figured it was finally time I shared my home bar version of this refreshing, not-too-sweet bourbon cocktail that I enjoyed earlier this summer during my visit to Vermont.
I had the pleasure of dining with my blog pal, Dorothy, and her husband at a quaint, farm-to-table restaurant called Starry Night Cafe on the last night of my visit there, and it wasn’t only the food that was amazing. The drink menu also was very impressive, and one cocktail in particular caught my attention— they called it Bramble On. It was fresh, local blackberries with bourbon, lime, ginger liqueur and a berry-mint garnish. It was fabulously refreshing and I knew at first sip that I would want it again in the fall.
It doesn’t hurt at all that the drink’s name was a play on the title of an amazing Led Zeppelin tune, “Ramble On.” I’ve been a Led Zeppelin fan for as long as I can remember, and this song, which was released from the group’s second album when I was but 4 years old, is one of my all-time favorites. Not only does it reference a place and character from one of my favorite stories, TheLord of the Rings (listen for it about two-thirds through), but it features exquisitely emotional guitar solos by Jimmy Page and, of course, there’s Robert Plant’s distinctive voice. I just love everything about it it.
“Ramble On” tells a bittersweet tale through the eyes of a restless lover who has enjoyed the company of a woman for a season, but must keep moving to find the queen of all his dreams. It’s how I feel about summer— I enjoyed it for what it was— the thrills and trials and adventures— but I’m really, really ready for autumn. I need autumn and I need it now.
Cheers, summer. Now, go on, would ya?
This cocktail feels like a perfect transition from summer into fall. A traditional “bramble” would involve muddling blackberries with gin, but this version with bourbon tickles my fancy more. It’s sweeter, cozier and lingers on the palate longer than the gin version.
I’ve taken a few liberties with the ingredients in my version of this cocktail, compared to the one I enjoyed in Vermont. But the end result is similar, with blackberries front and center. Given that fresh local blackberries have already bid adieu in many growing zones, I’ve swapped in blackberry preserves, which also provide the sweetness that the ginger liqueur brought to the Starry Night drink. Ginger bitters provide the right spicy zing to complement the berry sweetness, and a quick squeeze of lemon balances out the drink and keeps it fresh.
Shake with ice and then strain into a glass with new ice. If you prefer, double strain through a conical mesh strainer.I’ve been having a lot of fun with my new ice design mold. It takes only seconds to imprint a design on my clear ice cubes!
I skipped the mint garnish in favor of skewered fresh blackberries. But I have also served it with just an expressed lemon peel garnish when I ran out of berries. Either way, it’s delish!
This drink is a delightfully pleasant way to bridge the seasons.
This cocktail feels like a perfect transition from summer into fall. A little bit sweet, with warm spices and a touch of lemon freshness. Enjoy!
Ingredients
4 oz. favorite bourbon (we used a locally distilled, bottled-in-bond, but Elijah Craig small batch or Bulleit would be great)
1 Tbsp. good quality blackberry preserves (we like Bonne Maman, but homemade would be perfect here)
juice of 1/2 small lemon
4 quick shakes ginger bitters (we like Hella brand)
fresh blackberries or lemon peel to garnish
If you prefer to muddle fresh blackberries into the drink rather than using preserves, consider adding a tablespoon of simple syrup to amp up the sweetness a bit. If you don’t like the seeds in the preserves, double strain through a mesh strainer into the glass.
Directions
Add bourbon, preserves, lemon juice and bitters to a cocktail shaker filled halfway with ice.
Shake 20 seconds to combine and dilute, then strain into two double rocks glasses with new ice.
Garnish with skewered fresh berries or lemon twist.
Each fall since I began dating my husband, I’ve made a concerted effort to celebrate the season of Rosh Hashanah— the Jewish New Year— by baking a special bread. That first year, Les had visited a local apple festival and brought back a bagful of gorgeous Jonagold apples, which were lovely in a coiled-into-a-round challah. I was so proud of my bread that I took a picture of it— way before I began blogging— and I even took time to leave a review on the King Arthur website to report my great results.
Not a bad effort in 2015! But my iPhone 5 camera…
The round shape is significant to Rosh Hashanah because it represents the idea of coming full circle into a new year. The apples were a nice touch, because apples and honey make an appearance on everyone’s holiday table— symbolizing the wishes for a sweet year ahead. Most years since that first one, I’ve worked on my challah braiding skills, specifically the four-strand loaf that is woven like a basket. Here are a few examples of those breads, using my sourdough starter.
L to R: pumpkin challah, fruit-studded challah, over proofed challah!
This year, however, I decided to tackle another item on my culinary bucket list, and I’ve made a babka! This is another traditional Jewish bread, and I’ve wanted to make one for years but never got around to it until now. Most babka recipes I have seen involve a chocolate filling, which is most dramatic looking in the typical swirly pattern. I pondered, what about a babka that had apples and honey? That would be perfect for Rosh Hashanah, and a double win in that it finally moves babka to the “done” column.
I didn’t have to look very far for an inspiration recipe, because the first place I looked was King Arthur Baking. Of course!
The layers of apple, spices and pecan make this extra special!
I’ve been a big fan of King Arthur products for years (and no, they never have paid me to say so), and my devotion to them is stronger than ever since my trip to their Vermont baking school, where I am proud to have completed their four-day “Principles & Practice” baking course. I learned a good many things during my time there, and made friends with several of my classmates. Among the takeaway lessons was the importance of using high-quality ingredients (i.e., theirs) and having them organized and properly measured before you begin mixing. That’s how I set up for this recipe, and I swapped in honey for the sugar, following the same helpful tips I used last month when I made my s’mores cupcakes.
Baking is much easier when I’m organized!
My main dry ingredients were measured by weight, which is something I was already doing before my King Arthur class, and all of our instructors during the four days emphasized the benefit of this. I cannot remember the last time I measured by volume, but there is a sensible way to do it for consistent results. They call it the fluff, sprinkle, level method, and it helps ensure that you don’t have dense results in your baked goods. If you are reluctant to get a kitchen scale, I highly recommend following that three-step method; otherwise, you may find your baked goods dense from being flour-heavy.
The process of the apple babka recipe was straightforward. I introduced the wet ingredients to the dry ones, then switched to the kneading hook and worked in the softened butter. This recipe would not be suitable for a meal that also includes meat— kosher rules require that meat and dairy not be served together— but it would be wonderful served with breakfast or dessert on another occasion. The dough rested about two hours until it was doubled and puffy.
With 6 tablespoons of butter, this dough was very silky.Did I sample the filling on its own? Of course!
The filling was easy as well— brown sugar, cinnamon, cardamom and grated apple. Honeycrisp seemed appropriate for the occasion of Rosh Hashanah. Next came the rolling up and cutting, and I think this part would have been easier if this dough had been chilled, as the filling was very wet and loose. It was not difficult, but very messy, and not as pretty as I wanted it to be. I shaped the braided babka into a round, like a wreath, and covered it to proof for baking.
Next time, I will refrigerate the roll before cutting and shaping.
One of the other lessons in the King Arthur class was the simple way to determine whether your dough has proofed sufficiently for baking. If you poke the dough with a floured fingertip and the indent remains, it’s ready. If it bounces back, it needs more time. This one was ready!
The egg wash and sprinkles of turbinado sugar made this beautiful!
Time for an egg wash and bake, and we are ready for Rosh Hashanah! Of course, you don’t have to be Jewish to enjoy the lovely flavors. The apple, honey and spices make it perfectly appropriate through the rest of the year.
The first time I heard the term “reverse sear” was about five years ago, on Food Network, but that was already more than a decade after a young, rock-star chef and culinary consultant named J. Kenji López-Alt started talking about his discovery of a new method for cooking thick steak to perfection.
Rather than searing the meat first— you know, “to lock in the juices,” as we’ve all been advised since forever— Kenji tested this method of bringing the steak to ideal temperature in the oven first, and then throwing it onto the hot grill or skillet to sear it. The food world took notice of this brilliant discovery, but I’d been reluctant to try it, for reasons I can only explain as sentiment and tradition.
We’ve all seen the drawings on cave walls, with a man cooking animal parts over fire. This is the way we’ve always done it, and here I was, questioning what was already working. Still, I had to ask myself, are some of my mindsets about cooking set in stone because they date back to the actual Stone Age?
But Kenji hasn’t steered me wrong yet, as evidenced when I tried his brilliant baking soda technique that I like to call the miraculous mayo marinade. I use that one all the time now. Or last summer when he posted a recipe in NY Times Cooking, describing how to use salt to draw out the flavors of ingredients in this Mexican street corn guacamole, which Kenji says is his favorite and understandably so. And of course, the tremendous a-ha moment I had when I realized how positively simple it is to make my own sausage, following his salt-wait-grind-mix instructions.
So this summer, I finally decided to try the much-lauded reverse sear, and I’m here to report my experience. First things first, I had to pick up some steaks.
And not just any steaks. According to this article on Serious Eats, I needed to have steak that was close to 2 inches thick, and that usually means a custom order. When I explained to my local butcher what I had in mind, he pulled a huge slab of bone-in meat from the cooler in the back and went to work— slicing it nice and thick and trimming off the excess fat and bone. I’ll pause right here and acknowledge how much I appreciate having an actual butcher in town, one that sells locally produced meats with sustainability in mind, rather than a forced selection of meats from God-knows-where, shrink-wrapped over styrofoam trays. If you have a community butcher shop, please support it.
First, I weighed the meat in grams.Then weighed out kosher salt at 1.5% of the meat weight (close enough).Finally, added black pepper and rubbed the steak on all sides.
We ended up with two locally raised, grass-fed N.Y. strips that weighed roughly 2 and 1/2 pounds total— whew, that’s a lotta meat. At nearly 28 bucks a pound, this was not going to be a cheap experiment. My husband (and resident grill master), Les, was a great sport about the whole thing, even though the method defied his sensibilities, too, and even though it meant a longer wait for dinner.
Here’s how it was supposed to go.
Dry rub the steaks the night before — I used just kosher salt and black pepper, and they rested uncovered in the fridge.
Slow bake the steaks at low temperature (250° F) to just-shy of done — 25 to 30 minutes (we’ll just see about that).
Sear the steaks to perfection — we had the grill fired up and ready to go!
They don’t look juicy, and that’s the point.Into the oven for a slow roast.
Are we there yet??
First, the process that was supposed to take 25 to 30 minutes ended up taking much longer. Were my steaks too thick? Was 40 minutes out of the fridge long enough to knock the chill off? Whatever the case, the steaks looked awful during this slow oven time. It’s a little upsetting to see expensive cuts of meat looking so— what’s the word? Grayish. 🫤
I started checking at the 30-minute mark, and we weren’t even close to the 115° F internal temperature we needed for a medium rare finish. This project was running slower than molasses in January. We resisted the urge to turn up the oven temp, but the clock was ticking, and we were getting damn hungry by this point.
After 30 minutes.After 49 minutes.After 58 minutes.
C’mon, I’m starving!
Finally, we decided that 110° was close enough, and when those steaks hit the infrared side burner of our Napoleon grill, it was quite dramatic! The sear was spectacular, and from that point, it took a mere four minutes to plating. We were grateful that Kenji’s instructions said there was no need to rest the steaks before serving. All that business of letting the juices redistribute was covered during the slow roast. Just slice and enjoy! I barely slowed down to take pictures.
This part of the process moved very quickly!
Finally, the taste test!
Perfect outside, perfect inside!
The texture of the reverse-seared steak really was perfect— crusted and flavorful on the outside, juicy and tender inside— and it was delicious. But was it superior to a seared-first steak— the kind we usually grill? I can’t say for sure, and I also can’t confirm that it was the cooking method alone that caused this perfection, as I also followed Kenji’s instruction for salting and seasoning the steak the night before. The overnight “dry-brining” technique used to make me uncomfortable, too, but I’ve done it with turkey, chicken, pork and duck, and had fabulous results. Maybe the dry brine on its own would have given us the same end result.
Would I do the reverse sear again? Possibly, but only on rare occasion and under the right circumstances. Les already does a terrific steak on the grill, following the old cave man method, and I do a darn good job with them in a cast-iron skillet. It is unlikely that we would ever choose such large steaks to begin with; nutritional guidelines say that 4 to 5 ounces is appropriate for a serving, and we usually push that into the 8-ounce range, but these were over a pound apiece! We should have shared one, I think, but I wanted leftovers.
The reverse sear technique could be useful if we had a large gathering for a grilled meal (probably why top-notch restaurants are doing it). Things can get a little dicey when you’re trying to get a bunch of steaks grilled at once, and the low-and-slow process would allow extra flexibility for accurate temperature and quick finish, and more time for cocktails and chit chat while we wait—nothing wrong with that.
One final observation about reverse searing, and this one didn’t hit me until the next day when I sliced up some of the leftovers of our enormous steaks to top a salad. I can truly say that never-have-I-ever had leftover steak with such flavor and texture. The meat was still juicy and tender, much more so than I expected for round two, so there’s that.
I’m curious to know others’ experiences with reverse searing; if you have tried it, please let me know in the comments section below how things went for you. If you haven’t tried it, will you be firing up the grill (and oven) to give it a go this weekend?
Comfort du Jour 