Carrot Ginger Orange Soup

This is pulled from my personal recipe box, posted at the request of @SusanEsparza.

Carrot Ginger Orange Soup
Ingredients

small amount of olive oil
2 shallots, minced (use 2 small mild onions if you can't find shallots)
1 Tablespoon freshly grated ginger
grated rind of one large orange
6 cups chicken stock
12 large carrots, peeled and chopped into uniform chunks
juice of one large orange
sour cream for garnish (optional)

In a soup pot, heat oil over high heat. When warm, sautee shallots till opaque -- 3 to 4 minutes. Add ginger and orange rind, stirring until fragrant -- shouldnt' take long, no more than one minue. Add stock and carrots. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to high simmer/low boil. Cook until carrots are extremely tender -- 30-45 minutes longer; you should be able to mush a carrot chunk against the side of the pot with a wooden spoon. Cool on the stove for half an hour. Stir in fresh orange juice. Puree in batches in a blender or food processor (remember: if its still hot, you'll be dealing with steam...open the little hatch in your blender top!). Store in fridge. Reheat on stove top before serving. Garnish with sour cream if you want. Haven't tried it, but I think a swirl of pesto through it would be delicious, too.

This is tasty all the time, but is particularly lovely on a rainy night, when you want to feel warm.

You can use vegetable stock if you are anti-fowl.

Oven-Fried Zucchini, and Cookbook Give-Away

I'm an apartment dweller, with no yard or patio or porch of my own, and no real strong motivation to schlep tools several blocks daily to manage a plot at the community garden. This is to say: I never have too many tomatoes. I never have to find someone to take some cucumbers off my hands. And I never, ever, ever have to figure out a way to use up an over-abundance of zucchini. If you are a gardener, though, you probably are coming into zucchini, and  A Little Something has a way for you to get through the bounty.

Oven-Fried Zucchini

The secret to the zucchini's crispiness is double dipping in egg whites -- finally, double dipping is acceptable! These are excellent with Horseradish Yogurt Sauce or prepared tomato sauce.

Makes 4 servings

Vegetable oil cooking spray

1/4 cup seasoned dry bread crumbs

2 tablespoons freshly grated Parmesan cheese

1 cup zucchini, cut into 1/4-inch wedges

2 large egg whites

1. Preheat the oven to 450°F. Liberally spray a baking sheet with vegetable cooking spray.
2. Combine the bread crumbs and Parmesan in a large bowl. Set aside.
3. Dip the zucchini in the egg whites and then coat with the bread-crumb mixture. Repeat.
4. Place on the prepared baking sheet, and spray liberally with cooking spray. Bake until golden, about 30 minutes. Serve with Horseradish Yogurt Sauce.

Okay, you're not going to get through five grocery bags of zucchini this way. One cup of zucchini? Not  going to get you as far as hoped. So, I say, keep cranking these out. Crispy veg for dipping = a good movie day/night snack. Try it.

The sauce recipe is on the same page of  A Little Something but rather than type it all out in proper format, let's go easy: Take a container of plain yogurt, mix in 1 or 2 tablespoons prepared horseradish. Ta da. That's sauce. Or, you know, use lemon yogurt for a bit of extra tang -- this sauce is what I put on roast beef sandwiches.

I may have to make this later this weekend, as I've eggs and breadcrumbs in the house from the great meatball experiment.

Speaking of... time to put the balls in the sauce.

But before that... how's about a giveaway?

The First Ever Take One Cookbook... Cookbook Giveaway!


Yes, I'm giving away a cookbook! In fact, I'm giving away this week's cookbook: my well-worn copy of  A Little Something.

You can get up to four entries in the drawing. How? Leave a comment on this blog post with one of the following:

1. An appetizer you love to make.
2. A recipe from Take One Cookbook... that sounds really good to you.
3. A recipe from Take One Cookbook... that sounds appalling to you.
4. A link to your tweet or blog post wherein you tweet or blog about Take One Cookbook... in some way.

Each comment is one entry; don't put all four in one, or you'll confuse and confound me when it comes time to draw a winner.

Drawing will take place on Sunday, September 11, because we need a little happy on that day. Get your entries in by midnight Eastern on Saturday, September 10.

Vegetables: Boil Until They're Dead

I know it's not at all fashionable to say so, but I actually do like vegetables boiled until they're good and dead sometimes. Mmm, greens cooked until they're sort of green grey, and then doused with capsful of vinegar! I have been known to eat and enjoy canned green beans, right out of the can. A little mushiness on occasion is okay by me.

I come by this honestly. First off, I was a child in the 70s, and cuisine was not yet haute. Secondly, I come from my family. For your approval, one of my aunt's recipes in
Favorite Recipes from Caldwell, Idaho:

Vegetables
Robbie Busse

Green beans (fresh)
Tomatoes (fresh)
1 onion, diced
3 strips bacon
Salt

Clean beans and tomatoes; cut into bite sized pieces. Place in saucepan over medium heat. Add onion and dash of salt. Fry and crumble bacon. Add to vegetables. Let boil together until beans are tender (about 20 minutes).

Canned vegetables can be substituted for fresh.

Before we start getting all appalled at the idea of cooking green beans for 20 minutes at a boil (honestly, either cook 'em for 10 minutes, or for over 40 minutes -- half measures aren't doing you a kindness in most cases), let's embrace the surprising goodness of this recipe: Yes, it's from the 1970s, but it explicitly calls for fresh veg.

I've not been to Caldwell in decades, but when I did go out that way, I remember lots and lots of farmland outside of town. My first real exposure to asparagus was seeing it grow like a weed in irrigation ditches. So, when my aunt specifies fresh veg, you can trust that they are fresh fresh veg.

About the only ingredient I really question in this recipe is the salt. I'd think that the bacon would bring enough salt to the party, and, if it didn't, that the correct way to fix it would be to add more bacon. This surprises no one. There's always room for more bacon in my pots.

I will have to ask Aunt Robbi why this recipe isn't called "Green Beans" or "Green Beans & Tomatoes." Is it "Vegetables" because the method is to be used with any fresh (or canned) veg you have on hand? Is it "Vegetables" because that was the easiest shorthand when it came to saying "eat your vegetables"? My Idaho cousins were too young or too not born yet to be veg eaters when this cookbook came out, so...it's a bit of a mystery. I don't recall having this dish at my dad's table, nor my grandma's, so I'm guessing Aunt Robbi picked it up once she left the nest.

The Original Potato Soup; Favorite Recipes from Caldwell, Idaho, Compiled by the Caldwell Jay-C-Ettes

I'm a sentimental sort, so you can imagine what happened when I ran across my grandma's name in
Favorite Recipes from Caldwell, Idaho compiled by the Caldwell Jay-C-Ettes (Bev Ron Publishing Company, Kansas City; 1974). I got all choked up, and then saw that her name was right next to "Potato Soup." Potato soup! Our Christmas Eve tradition, right from Grandma's own recipe! What is a sentimental blogger to do? I ask you? That's right. Post it, and compare.

Potato Soup
Rowena Green, Portland, Oregon

6 large potatoes, diced
1 onion, diced
1 (12 oz.) can condensed milk
8 strips bacon, diced
1 tsp. salt
Dash pepper
Savory salt

Boil potatoes and onion with salt until tender. Fry bacon until crisp. Drain water from potatoes; add milk and bacon. Add pepper and savory salt to taste. Heat until warm, stirring often.

Let's start off with the important bit: Dad's first soup catastrophe? So not his fault! The recipe says "condensed milk"! Ladies and gentlemen, do not use (sweetened) condensed milk. Use evaporated milk. And, Daddy, no more shame.

When you drain off the water, you don't need to drain off ALL the water -- you have 6 potatoes, and need more than 2 oz. of milk for each spud's share of soup. I'm known to not drain off any water. There. I said it. For "savory salt," try Lawry's seasoned salt. If you refuse to do so, try a seasoned salt from Penzeys, or a lovely sprinkle of paprika. I really do suggest you cook your bacon first, and then cook the soup in the pan you made the bacon in. First off, that means you'll only have one pan to wash, and second off, it means you get more bacony goodness infusing your soup.

You might wonder how Grandma -- an Oregonian through and through -- had a recipe end up in a Caldwell, Idaho cookbook. Turning to the club officers page of the cookbook, we find that the State Director of the Jay-C-Ettes for 1974-75 was none other than Robbianne Busse, my aunt. I wonder how Aunt Robbi makes her soup.

Stuffed Acorn Squash, or Every Vegetable Is Even Better With Butter And Sugar

Barbequeing isn't all about the dead beasties. Sometimes, you need something more vegetal. Betty Crocker's Outdoor Cook Book gives several options, including this recipe that makes me think of Halloween and Thanksgiving more than Memorial Day or the Fourth of July.

Stuffed Acorn Squash
Apple and brown sugar caramelize as squash bakes. Good with pork or baked turkey, as pictured on pages 34-35.

Select 3 medium acorn squash. Cut into halves; remove seeds. Place each half on a double thickness of heavy-duty aluminum foil. Put 1 tsp. butter and 2 tbsp. brown sugar in each half, add mixture of 3/4 cup chopped apple and 2 tsp. chopped walnuts. Dot with 2 tsp. butter and wrap securely in foil. Barbecue on briquets 40 to 50 min., or on grill about 1 hr., turning once. Squash is done when it feels soft when touched with an asbestos-gloved thumb. 6 servings.

Please tell me you're not actually having an asbestos-anythinged anything in or near your food. Use a heat-proof glove. It could be an Ove' Glove or something your great-aunt crocheted for you, as long as it's thick enough to keep you from burning yourself and, oh, yes, not carcinogenic.

I know that I said that barbeques weren't all about the dead beasties, but you know how we are around here at Take One Cookbook... we love the dead beasties, and really think that this would be even better with a good crumble over of crisp bacon. If you're not adverse to pork products (yummy, yummy pork products), I highly suggest crisping some up and adding it in here.

Butter and brown sugar and orange squooshy vegetable goodness reminds me of candied yams. This makes me want to add mini marshmallows to the squash.

Yes, even with the bacon.

Ooo.

Especially with the bacon.

I was going to prattle on about the fact that there's no list of ingredients for this recipe, but then I got distracted by the spelling of "barbecue." I nearly typed "misspelling" there, because to me, "barbecue" is spelled "barbeque." A little Googling shows me, though, that I have evidently embraced a "popular spelling variant." I say, it's abbreviated "BBQ" not "BBC," so I'm sticking to my popular variant.

I'll save the BBC for my Doctor Who needs.

Betty Crocker's Outdoor Cook Book; Good 'N Easy Potato Salad

It's Memorial Day Weekend, and with Memorial Day Weekend comes summer, gatherings with friends, picnics, barbeques, and all sorts of outdoorsy goodness. That, plus Chefly Husband's newly-started blog (Mastering Wine) has inspired me to grab a cookbook, dream of dishes fascinating and horrifying, and type away.

Welcoming us back into the fold is Betty Crocker's Outdoor Cook Book, illustrated by Tom Funk, © 1961 by General Mills, Inc. This is a great hard cover, spiral bound gem with two-color silly illustrations and four-color glossy pictures of stylish 60s folk, cooking outside. There is a facsimile edition available, but my copy is first edition.

I knew I wanted the first recipe up to be a potato salad recipe, as potato salad and Memorial Day just go together for me. But... which one? Potato Salad, Good 'N Easy Potato Salad, or Potato Salad For A Crowd? Chefly Husband suggested "whichever one doesn't have yellow mustard, because yellow mustard is disgusting."

He has many fine qualities.

And I like yellow mustard.

But I'm leaning towards "disgusting" anyway.

Good 'N Easy Potato Salad

1 pkg. Betty Crocker Scalloped Potatoes
3 cups water
2 tbsp. butter
2/3 cup water
1/4 cup mayonnaise
1 tsp. prepared mustard
2 hard-cooked eggs, chopped

Empty potatoes into saucepan. Add 3 cups water. Bring to boil. Reduce heat and simmer until tender, about 15 min. Rinse with cold water; drain throughly. Put in bowl, cover, and chill. Melt butter. Blend in contents of seasoning pkg. Add 2/3 cup water all at once. Heat over medium heat until mixture boils, stirring constantly. cover and chill. (Lumps are onion pieces.) When cold, blend mayonnaise and mustard into sauce. Fold into potatoes and eggs. 4 servings.

Any time a recipe has to tell you that what you're looking at is intentional and vaguely vegetal, back away slowly...

This may well taste very good. Lord knows I'm not opposed to cooking shortcuts. But if you're going to take the time to hard-cook eggs (and, let's take a moment for three cheers, for Betty Crocker calls 'em as they are: hard cooked, not hard boiled), then you can take the time to boil your own potatoes. Heck, you can boil them in the same pot as your eggs. One pot! One boil! Then you'd be able to identify your own lumps.

As for the mustard issue -- yes, I use yellow prepared mustard in my potato salad. You can use your favorite mustard, be it Dijon or brown or horseradishy, but to be truly 1960s vintage scary, use the yellow mustard, and the boxed potatoes.

If nothing else, file this one away for your next Mad Men theme party. Betty Draper would have had this cookbook.

A Different Green Bean Dish: Judías Verdes Rehogadas con Jamón

I'm nuts about Christmas. I blame it in part on the fact that my dad's a Christmas tree farmer. Whatever the reason, I know this for sure: I'm just giddy with excitement because Christmas Eve is just two days away!!!

If you're looking to change up your holiday side dishes, ditch the green bean casserole with the can of fried onion whatnots on top. Try instead this recipe from Delicioso! The Regional Cooking of Spain :

Judías Verdes Rehogadas con Jamón
(Green Beans Sautéed with Cured Ham)

Whenever we stay in Niserias in Asturias (as we often do, since my husband loves to trout-fish in the cares River) we dine at Casa Julián (see p. 113), where co-owner and cook Vincentina produces simple Asturian fare with an expert hand. My favorite first course is her sautéed green beans, seasoned with garlic and generously sprinkled with mountain ham.

Serves 4

Salt
1/2 small onion
1 1/2 pounds broad green beans, ends snapped off
2 tablespoons olive oil
4 cloves garlic, lightly smashed and peeled
2 ounces Spanish mountain cured ham or prosciutto, in small cubes or thin squares (about 1/4 cup)
Freshly ground pepper

Bring a pot of salted water to a boil, add the onion and green beans, return to a boil, then cook uncovered at a slow boil for about 20 minutes, or until cooked as desired. Discard the onion and drain the green beans in a colander. Refresh with cold water.

In a skillet, heat the oil with the garlic, pressing the garlic with the back of a wooden spoon to release its flavor, until the garlic is golden on both sides. Add the beans and the ham, season with salt and pepper, and sautée, stirring, over a medium flame, until the beans are hot.

If I read this recipe for the first time, I would say "Hell, no!" Then, I'd walk away, shaking my head. "Cook beans for more than 20 minutes? They'll be mush!" I'd laugh, disbelieving. "Boil the onion?!?!?! That onion should be diced and fried with the garlic!"

I'd have a wealth of culinary tradition and experience behind me.

I'd also be wrong.



This was the first course in our last meal in Spain. We'd made it to Santiago, we'd been to Mass, we'd waited in line for hours to get our credentials, and we had a celebratory meal and final communion for our pilgrimage group.

And this was damned tasty.

I'm not a cook-it-'til-it's-dead girl when it comes to vegetables. I'm really not. But, dang, these beans taste good after a long slow simmer with ham.

Need I say everything was local? Everything? Was local.

People grow their own everything.



Their own beans.



Their own ham.

I know the pig's out of focus (and that it's not ham ... yet); I heard it grunting on the other side of a garden wall, held my camera up high, and sort of just hoped I'd get a picture of whatever was making the sound. So, out of focus or no, I love this picture of the ham-to-be.

But I digress!

I rather thought I might.

Point being: think outside the can of cream of whatever and tinned questionable crispy onionesque casserole topping, and bring a bit northern Spain to Christmas this year.

Delicioso! The Regional Cooking of Spain: Alubias Rojas de Tolosa con Berza

I've been plotting out my course for the new year. See, like a lot of people, I make food-related resolutions, and money-related resolutions. This year, however, I'm making a food-AND-money-related resolution: I'm going to cut back on my food expenditures by planning ahead and actually bringing a home made breakfast and lunch to work with me, rather than going out. Even just walking to the grocer's near work to buy a frozen whatnot adds up, if not in pennies, then in healthfulness. I like to cook, I cook well, what I cook tastes better than what I'd pick up at the grocer's, and so, darn it, I should do it. I was going through old favorite recipes, and kept running smack up against ones that I'd written about here. So here we are, back at the good ol' blog!

We're starting the new year celebration a touch early with a festive sort of cuisine in Delicioso! The Regional Cooking of Spain by Penelope Casas (Alfred A. Knofpf, New York; 1996). I was lucky enough to get to go to Spain a few years back and walk the pilgrim trail to Santiago; it was an amazing experience, and odds are I'll pepper these posts this week with pictures and stories from the Camino. Like... this one from kilometer 99...a little over 60 miles from Santiago.Pilgrims carry stones with them from their homes and place them along the route; I had one from my mother's yard in Oregon, and one from my yard in DC.



I ate amazing food in Spain, none of it fancy. Really, not fancy at all. Soups. Stews. Lentils. Cheese. Really filling and tasty. Today's recipe reminds me of that food.

Alubias Rojas de Tolosa con Berza
(Red Beans with Cabbage)

Start prepartion 1 day in advance.

A dollop of cabbage, placed in each bowl of beans, is a delicious complement to this bean stew based on the outstanding red beans that grow in Tolosa in the Basque province of Guipúzcoa along the banks of the Oria River. you can use any kind of red bean to make this dish, but the results will be best with Tolosa, Adzuki, or other dark red beans, sometimes available at food specialty shops.

Serves 4

1 pound small, deep-red dried beans
1 medium onion, peeled and cut in half crosswise
1 large carrot, scraped and cut in half crosswise
1 small leek, well washed
A 1/4-pound piece slab bacon, preferably fresh (otherwise cured)
1/4 pound sweet chorizo
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, finely chopped
6 cloves garlic, minced
2 teaspoons imported sweet paprika

Sauteéd Cabbage
3 tablespoons olive oil
1/4 cup onion
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 small head cabbage, coarsely chopped
Salt
Freshly ground pepper

Soak the beans overnight in water to cover. Drain, then combine in a large pot with 6 cups fresh water and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat, add the onion, carrot, leek, bacon, and chorizo. cover and simmer 1 hour.

Meanwhile, heat the olive oil in a large skillet, add the chopped onion and garlic, and sauté slowly until the onion has wilted. Stir in the paprika, then add to the beans. Season with salt, cover, and continue cooking about 30 minutes more, or until the beans are just tender. Wipe out the skillet.

While the beans are cooking, prepare the cabbage. Heat the oil in the skillet and sauté the onion and garlic until the onion has wilted. Add the cabbage, salt, and pepper and stir-fry about 10 minutes. Cover and continue cooking until done to taste.

Serve the beans in soup bowls, accompanied by crusty country bread. Heat the cabbage, transfer to a serving bowl, and pass separately. Typically, a spoonful or two of cabbage is placed in the soup bowl, off to one side--not mixed into the beans.

Yes, please. This would be such a welcoming dish to find at a pilgrim's table after walking 30 kilometers (or even after 3). Hearty. Simple. Serve it with the bread (oh, the bread in Spain!) and a glass or two of wine. My thoughts on wine: stick with Spain, and stick with northern Spain. An Albariño would go great with this, and I know--Albariño is from the northwest of Spain, and Tolosa is in the northeast, but it'd still taste great. I'd go a bit off-local on red, too, and pour a Ribera del Duero.

I feel like going off for a bit on the wines I tasted along the Camino, but I suspect I'll be wandering through that topic a few times this week.

Call and Response: Zucchini Bread

I always try to pick a theme for the recipes here. Granted, sometimes the theme is just "what were they thinking?" but there's always an attempt at theme-ing. Usually, during the course of a week, the theme takes a few unexpected twists. I thought that the Cook Book Presented by The Fishwives of Charleston Oregon would be all about the boats and the scrap fish recipes of the southern Oregon Coast. Then, I settled in on baking. But here we are, and it seems pretty clear that the real theme is "My Mom."

Today, we start off with the Fishwives' Zucchini Bread.

Zucchini Bread

3 eggs
1 c. McKay's oil
2 c. sugar
2 c. peeled, grated zucchine
2 tsp. vanilla

In a separate bowl mix:

3c. McKay's flour
1/4 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. soda
1 tsp. salt
3 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 c. walnuts

Beat the eggs until light and foamy. Add next four ingredients; mix lightly but well. Add flour mixture and blend. Add nuts. Divide batter in two greased loaf pans, and bake 325 for 1 hr. or until done. Remove from pan at once and cool on rack. May be frozen for future uses, and it is delicious.

--Kay Wells
--Betty Brown

I wonder what Kay and Betty's story is, why they are both credited with this recipe. Are they sisters, sharing a family favorite? Were they rivals, each claiming the superior recipe, when really they were identical? I also wonder if everyone knows when a quick bread like this is done, as "or until done" is a bit vague. Here's my take: use the toothpick/broomstraw/knife method--insert the pokey tool of your choice into the cake/bread, pull it out, and see if there's any wet stuff clinging to the pokey tool. If so, let it cook a bit longer. If not, it's done. Now we're all on the same page.

Okay, with one detour: yes, I've been known to use an actual broomstraw to test my baked goods. If it disturbs you, well, more baked goods for me. You're safe for right now, though, as our broom didn't survive the Snowpocalypse we had this winter. Anyway.

So, what did Momma have to say about Kay & Betty's Zucchini Bread? Nothing directly--she didn't annotate the page.

She did, however, slide in a slip of paper, upon which she wrote:

Zucchini Bread

1 hr. at 350°

5 eggs
1 1/2 oil
3 c sugar
5 tsp vanilla
3 c zucchini
4 1/2 c flour
1 1/2 tsp salt
5 tsp cinnamon
1 1/2 c soda
3/4 tsp Baking powder

I've got to assume Mom meant 1 1/2 cups of oil, and 1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda; it doesn't make any sense otherwise. For assembly, I'd follow the order listed by Kay & Betty. But, oh, it makes me smile to think of Mom rewriting this.

Momma had a recipe box. There's no reason that she would have to put a favored recipe into a cookbook. So, she chose to put it here, between pages 180 and 181. Take that, Kay & Betty.

I have only the vaguest memories of the kitchen in Coos Bay. Most of those are probably false, just the mind putting in placeholders of imagined kitchens and homes; we left Coos Bay when I was 3, after all. But I remember Momma baking. It would be grey and damp and cool out--it was Coos Bay--and she had two little ones under foot. I think I remember where the loaf pans were stored. I think I remember where the oven was, opposite the sink. I remember Don Quixote (our cat) looking in through the screen door from the back stoop. And once again, the theme takes a turn, and it becomes more about the shadowy memories of childhood.

What will it be come tomorrow?

The County Fair Cookbook, Lyn Stallworth & Rod Kennedy Jr.: Swiss Cabbage Pie

I was a 4Her from early on. It helps that my dad was an Extension agent, and helped get 4H going in our town; my sister is now the secretary for 4H in that same office. I was part of 4H sewing, cooking, forestry, photography, and rabbits...a lot of clubs! I went to 4H camp (which has mixed memories for me, especially as my first-ever high fever was at camp, and so there are some hallucinations wrapped up in my recollections of the senior counselors). The best part of 4H, though, was The Fair.

Come the third week in August, life moved to Canby. Even before we had 4H projects of our own, we'd go and watch Dad judge the photography. Mom would talk about when she made cookies for her county fair, and ate so much dough she was ill. My sister and I showed our rabbits, had our sewing skills evaluated, demonstrated recipes, and once and a while even thought about going to see the rodeo.

To say I love my county fair -- and, yes, though I've been gone for 19 years, I still think of that as my fair -- is an understatement. So, when I got a happy reminder that, yes, I have a cookbook blog, it was easy to pick a seasonal choice: The County Fair Cookbook by Lyn Stallworth and Rod Kennedy, Jr. (Hyperion, 1994). The book is divided up by region, focusing mainly on the United States but including some Canadian fairs. The recipes represent both their region and the homey comfort of county fairs in general, and are accompanied by loving descriptions of the fairs themselves. There's even a page dedicated to my fair, but we'll get to that later on this week. For now, let's go to the Eureka County Fair, in Eureka, Nevada. The fair runs the first or second week of August, for three days. Just take Route 50 out of Reno.

Swiss Cabbage Pie

"When he was a kid on the ranch, my husband's grandmother took this down to the hayfield around two p.m. as an afternoon snack with coffee," says Ethel. "I collect cookbooks, and when we lived on a ranch I'd find a great-sounding recipe and realize I didn't have most of the ingredients called for. We were seventy-five miles from one town, and a hundred and fourteen miles from another. You learn to substitute. I've created a few new recipes out of necessity."

Serves 6 to 8

1 loaf unbaked bread (can use frozen purchased dough)
1 pound bacon
8 cups shredded cabbage
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
3 eggs, beaten
1 1/2 cups cream or half-and-half
1/2 cup grated Swiss cheese (optional)

• Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
1. Roll out the bread dough about 1/4 inch thick and place it in a 9-inch pie pan. Crimp the edges, as you would a pie.
2. Cut the bacon into small pieces and brown them in a large heavy pot. Pour off all but 1 tablespoon of the grease. Stir in the shredded cabbage and cook over moderate heat, stirring, for 1 minute.
3. Over low heat, add the salt and pepper, eggs, cream and the cheese, if you are using it. Cook for 3 to 4 minutes, stirring. Put the mixture in the crust and bake for 30 minutes, or until the filling is set and the edges are golden brown.

Remember, folks, that in my book, cheese is NEVER optional. Cheese is essential. Also, if you got frozen dough for this, please thaw it according to package directions before starting. Do not try to roll out frozen dough.

You could buy your cabbage pre-shredded in a bag, if you're not keen on deconstructing a head of cabbage on your own. But, as Mary Frances over at the Gluten(-)Free Cooking School shows, it's cheaper, tastier, and just more pleasant to do it yourself. Go on over to GFCS, and see how easy it is. Plus, as Mary Frances says, "After a long day, it’s sometime really fun to hack into a large vegetable with a big, long knife."

My copy of The County Fair Cookbook is massively dog-earred, and I've yet to plot out just which recipes will show up on this blog. So, if you have a favorite fair, let me know, and I'll see if we can get up a recipe from there, or at least from nearby.

Picnic Soup #2: Tomato and Buttermilk Soup

I didn't eat/enjoy/recognize avocados as food until after college (Face masks? Sure. Food, no.). If one of your fellow picnickers shares my old hesitation, you're going to have a hard sell with Cold Avocado Soup. Try this alternative, from Outdoor Dining:

Tomato and Buttermilk Soup

2 cups (16 fl oz/500 ml) tomato juice
1 cup (8 fl oz/250 ml) buttermilk

This simple soup is cool and refreshing; if desired you can add some chopped tomato, cucumber, and fresh herbs. You can also vary the proportion of tomato juice to buttermilk.

Combine the tomato juice and buttermilk.

Serve Tomato and Buttermilk Soup chilled with open sandwiches, which become extra special when you make them with savory butters.

Variation: Combine buttermilk and apricot nectar for a refreshing drink.

Serves 2

Two ingredients! Just two! No cutting, no dicing, no blanching, no skinning, no skimming, no heating... it's simple, alright! Other than a glorious opportunity to stain things tomato red, this is something you could easily make with any kid old enough to stir the sugar and Kool-Aid packet in to the 2 quart pitcher.

Or was that just my childhood?

This soup shares a page with lots of savory butter suggestions. Pink peppercorn butter, which is "particularly good" with roast beef. Anchovy butter, for eggs, watercress, or cucumber. Herb butters. Walnut butter. If you can whir it up in a food processor, Outdoor Dining suggests you make it into a compound butter. I actually agree, and was just exhorting my brother in law in Pittsburgh to use some of his bumper crop of tarragon to make a compound butter. Compound butters (savory or sweet) freeze beautifully, and it's great to be able to cut off a hunk of a seasoned butter to melt on your grilled whatever.

Picnic Soup #1: Cold Avocado Soup

I'm going to go see the Indigo Girls at Wolftrap next week, and have been driving everyone around me a bit crazy by my obsessive menu planning. One thing that has stuck, however, was the idea of a cold soup, transported in a growler I got at a beer pub ages ago. I keep saying "a growler of gazpacho!" It took a while to hit on the gazapcho, though, and Outdoor Dining offers two potential growler-fillers. The first:

Cold Avocado Soup

2 avocados, halved and seeds removed
1 small white onion, chopped
2 cups (16 fl oz/500 ml) chicken stock
1 cup (8 fl oz/250 ml) buttermilk
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 red bell pepper (capsicum), halved
1 teaspoon Tabasco sauce

A rich, cold soup is a lovely start to a summer picnic; it is easy to carry in a large glass jar or vacuum flask.

Scrape the avocado flesh into a food processor or blender. Add the onion and stock and process until smooth.

Pour into a container and stir in the buttermilk and salt and pepper to taste. Put aside until ready to serve.

Put the bell pepper under a broiler (griller) until the skin blackens. Transfer to a paper bag and leave for about 30 minutes. Scrape off the blackened skin. Put the bell pepper into a food processor or blender with the Tabasco and purée. Transfer to a small jar.

To serve, add a dollop of the bell pepper purée to each bowl of avocado soup.

Serves 4

Menu
Cold Avocado Soup
Scallop and Bell Pepper (Capsicum) Salad (page 83)
Cookies

Why is this soup not coming with me to the concert? Frankly, the idea of garnishing on site seems pointlessly fussy. I know, I could just serve the soup sans puree, but...you should see how lovely this soup looks in the picture. Pale green, with a rush of vivid red. It's gorgeous. The soup will have to wait for a time that I'm eating outside...but within steps of the kitchen.

Every single recipe in Outdoor Dining is accompanied by a beautiful full-page photo. André Martin did the food photography, and Donna Hay, the food styling. Together, they make every dish look like something you simply have to try, right this very second. It's worth picking up a copy of the book (used, as it appears to be out of print), as the photos add so much.

I'm heading out of town for a wedding, so will be doubling up today, and when I return.

Cake Day!: Rhubarb Cake

It's Cake Day here chez Take One Cookbook. I've got a Bacardi Rum Cake baking away in the oven as we speak, and the scent is heavenly; it's distracted me utterly from all things non-cake. So, let's delve for the last time into the Spratt/Bachman & Mellberg/McKenzie Family Cookbook 2008, and go for something seasonal and cakey from Aunt Agnes:

Rhubarb Cake
Agnes Bachman Pengilly

1 1/2 c. packed brown sugar
1/2 c. butter
1 egg
1/2 tsp. salt
1 c. sour milk or buttermilk
1 tsp. soda
2 cups flour
2 cups rhubarb

Topping - 3/4 c. white sugar, 1 tsp. cinnamon. Put on top of cake. Bake 30-35 minutes.

Get the feeling that, in my family, one is just expected to know how the heck to bake? Let's break this down for the non-Spratts/Bachmans/Mellbergs/McKenzies out there:

Pan: Use a 9 x 13. Yes, I know.
Oven temp: 350°F
Method:

• Cream the butter and sugar together.
  
• Beat in eggs.
  
• In a separate bowl, sift together dry ingredients.
  
• Alternate adding flour mixture and sour milk or buttermilk to the butter/sugar/egg mixture.
  
• Toss the cut up rhubarb in a bit of flour (so that it disperses nicely in the cake, or so my mother always told me).
  
• Top as directed.
  
• Bake as directed.
  
• Cool in pan.
  
• Serve hunks of cake topped with Cool Whip, whipped cream, or, heck, warmed up in a bowl and then topped with ice cream or whole milk.

Rhubarb cake...it's so darned moist, tangy, and tasty! I remember lots of rhubarb in the family, growing up. I never even thought to try buying it in the grocery store, though, as everyone back home seems to have it in their gardens -- well, assuming their house was built and garden established by someone in my Grandpa's generation. But, yes, it's purchase-able in grocery stores, and it's in season, so, get yourself some! Eat it raw, dipped in sugar; or make a compote, if cake-baking seems too much for you. Or, mmm, try it in a strawberry-rhubarb pie... I love late spring!

If you want to go the sour milk route, take 1 tablespoon of lemon juice or white vinegar, and put it in your 1 cup liquid measuring cup. Top off with enough milk to make 1 cup. Let stand for about 10 minutes, and voila! Soured milk. Don't just use milk that's past date in your fridge; you don't want spoiled milk. If this sounds too chemistry-class for you, just buy some buttermilk.

This cake is great warm, or at room temperature. It's, of course, a good dessert, but it's equally tasty for a homey breakfast. Go get a couple stalks of rhubarb (which is a vegetable, even though normally eaten as a fruit), and enjoy the tang.

Cooking the Books: Tangy Cucumbers

Some things in life seem so basic, so natural that to discover them writen down can come as a shock. "Wait, there's a recipe for that?" I cried, when I came across the basic natural it's-always-that-way cucumber dish in the Spratt/Bachman & Mellberg/McKenzie Family Cookbook 2008:

Tangy Cucumbers
Betty Mellberg McKenzie

1/2 cup white vinegar
1/2 tsp salt
1/8 tsp pepper
Water

Slice cucumbers into a bowl. Add above and then put enough water to just cover the cucumbers. Keep in fridge. They get better the longer they sit.

"Seriously, a recipe?"

But then, if this isn't the only way you were ever served cucumbers as a child, this is just the sort of thing you need. (No hyperbole there; it seems we always had a jar of these in the fridge, which is a neat trick, because I could eat all the cukes in one sitting without trying.) It is, indeed, tangy, as the title (and the vinegar) suggest. You could fancy it up by adding dried hot pepper flakes, or thinly sliced onions. I do not. You could use a food processor or mandoline to ensure uniform, nearly-transparent thin slices. I do not. And yesterday, Washington's Green Grocer brought me two cucumbers...

I scrubbed them, and realized they were still very waxy. Out came my trusty Oxo vegetable peeler, and in a trice, off came the waxy peel. A bit of casual knife work, and I had a bowl full of uneven but beautiful slices. I ground a good healthy amount of black pepper on top, and sprinkled a hefty pinch of salt over. Then, I poured 3/4 a cup of vinegar over, slowly, to wash the spices into solution. Yes, 3/4 cup. I love vinegar. And, yes, white vinegar. Other than Easter egg dying, this is the only food application for white vinegar in my life; otherwise, I use it mostly for cleaning. I topped off the cukes with one scant cup of cold water...



...and then I ate the top layer, with my fingers. Yes, it tastes better after it sits. But, yes, I could eat it right away. It took all my willpower to not tuck in with a fork, but... there's always tomorrow.

The Fruit of the Spirit: 100th Anniversary of Bittinger Lutheran Parish; Poor Man's Crab Cakes

Last night, at a lovely supper with friends (pork roast, scalloped potatoes, roasted asparagus, pinot noir), our hostess took out The Fruit of the Spirit: 100th Anniversary of Bittinger Lutheran Parish (Morris Press, 2008). Seems her mom gave her this church cookbook, and she knew of my love for all things cookbook-y, so we started going through it. Community cookbooks can get a bad rap; people think everything's going to be "take four cans of this sodium bomb and twelve cans of this mushy veg and call it a casserole." There's so much more that can be found, though! Take the first recipe I stopped at:

Poor Man's Crab Cakes
Glenne Blocher

2 c. grated zucchini squash
1 c. bread crumbs (plain or Italian)
1 tsp. mayonnaise
1 T. Old Bay seasoning
2 eggs

Mix squash, bread crumbs, mayonnaise, Old Bay seasoning and eggs. Shape into small patties. Dip in flour. Fry until brown. Serve hot or cold.

I don't know that I'd bother calling it a crab cake, but this sounds darned tasty. And, though right now you'd probably have to go to the grocers for some zucchini, we're not so far from the bumper crop times where you'll be finding zucchini in big bags on your desk or stoop if you even mention in passing that you'd be willing to take some off a gardener friend's hands. File this away until you have a surplus, and have fun with it. Perhaps make a nice remoulade for dipping or garnish...

Chefly Husband says that he's never heard of a recipe that used 1 teaspoon of mayonnaise. "What's the point of 1 teaspoon of mayonnaise?" I kind of agree with him, and would be tempted to reduce the number of eggs and up the amount of mayo for taste purposes. It's worth tinkering with.

You can't find a copy of The Fruit of the Spirit through Amazon yet, but you can still get a copy for $10 from the fine folks of Bittinger Lutheran Parish in Bittinger, MD. It's out in Garrett County, Maryland. As my friend says, "You know, where Maryland gets skinny, and then gets fat again?" Garrett County.

This week, we'll look at the happy surprises in this community cookbook.

Roasted Brussels Sprouts and Shallots with Bacon

It's Thanksgiving today in the U.S., and I'm going to be off at a good friend's house all day, cooking, drinking, eating, and being merry. Before that, though, I thought I'd share some of my favorite Thanksgiving (and other feast) dishes.

This first one should be prefaced with the statement "I Hated Brussels Sprouts When I Was Younger And These Sprouts Can Convert You To Brussels Sprouts Love, Too."

Roasted Brussels Sprouts and Shallots with Bacon

2 lbs Brussels sprouts
1 shallot
6 strips high-quality thick-cut bacon

Preheat oven to 400°F. Take a 9x13 pan and lay out the bacon; nothing should overlap (trim if you need to to make sure of this), and put it in the oven (center-ish rack) for 10-15 minutes. While the bacon renders its fat and starts to crisp up, prepare your sprouts. To do this, peel off the loose and dark outer leaves, cut off the stem, and cut each sprout into quarters. Then, chop up your shallot.

When the bacon has gotten crispy (or, as crispy as you want to let it...I go for "cooked but still pliable"), remove it to a paper towel-lined plate. Toss the sprouts and shallots in the rendered fat in the 9x13 pan, and choose which way you're going with your bacon. You have two options:

1. Reserve the bacon until right before serving, crumbling it on top of the dish at the last minute.
   
2. Cut the bacon into lardons, and toss it back into the dish with the sprouts and shallots before roasting.

I tend to go with option #2.

Put the pan back in the oven, and let roast for 40-60 minutes, stirring once or twice during the process. They should be getting caramelized and yummy-smelling near the end, and a fork should go through them with little resistance.

Easy-peasy, and dirties very few dishes. A great go-to side dish for holiday meals.

Cassoulet

One of the biggest culinary gaffes Chefly Husband and I ever made was mistaking peasant food for haute cuisine; we decided to make a cassoulet and followed a recipe to the letter, buying a hard-to-find and expensive kind of sausage, particular heirloom beans... the fussy list went on and on, and in the end we ended up with a bean casserole that cost $100.

Peasant food shouldn't cost $100. Peasant food shouldn't cost $10. Don't be a slave to a list that doesn't make sense... substitute, substitute, substitute, and use yer brain.

There are no $30 surprises in the list for Moosewood Restaurant Low-Fat Favorites cassoulet recipe. It's just simple, wonderful, tasty peasant food. As it should be.

Cassoulet

Cassoulet is the name for the classic baked bean dish that is popular bistro fare throughout France. Although baking is the traditional method, you can gently simmer our vegetarian version for 20 minutes on the stove top instead.

1 teaspoon olive oil
6 garlic cloves, minced or pressed
1 1/2 cups chopped onions
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
3 bay leaves
1/2 teaspoon dried marjoram
1 teaspoon minced fresh or dried rosemary
1/2 cup dry red wine
1 cup peeled and diced carrots
3/4 cup diced celery
1 cup diced potatoes
1 cup diced tomatoes
3/4 cup diced pepperoni seitan
1 tablespoon molasses
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1 1/2 cups cooked kidney beans (15-ounce can, drained)
1 1/2 cups cooked cannellini beans (15-ounce can, drained)
salt and ground black pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 350°.

In a medium saucepan, warm the olive oil. Add the garlic, onions, thyme, bay leaves, marjoram, and rosemary and sauté for 2 minutes. Add the wine, cover, and simmer until the onions are soft, about 5 minutes. Stir in the carrots, celery, potatoes, and tomatoes, cover, and simmer 10 more minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the seitan, molasses, mustard, and both kinds of beans. Return to a simmer, stirring gently, just until the seitan and beans are heated through. Add salt and pepper to taste. Transfer to a casserole dish that has been prepared with cooking spray, cover, and bake for 45 minutes.

Serves 4-6
Preparation time: 30 minutes, if using already cooked or canned beans
Baking time: 45 minutes

Note: Almost any highly flavored seitan will work in the dish, but if only plain seitan is available, we suggest adding more herbs, garlic, and mustard to taste.

See? Simple! Easy as pie ... and you might want to think of putting this together to cook after you done your pies for Thanksgiving. The oven's already hot, why not cook up lunch for the next day? Also, if you have an unexpected vegetarian drop by your feast, you'll be well prepared.

This freezes well. It's a casserole, after all.

I recommend you make a buttery bread crumb topping and sprinkle it on before baking. The crunchy element is great with a cassoulet.

Have a big crusty loaf of bread on hand when you eat the beans. Sop up any liquid, and just enjoy.

Guacamole with Cottage Cheese

Sometimes, it seems to me that this blog is a never ending cavalcade of foods I couldn't stand or never tried as a child. Today's recipe from Moosewood Restaurant Low-Fat Favorites is half stuff I couldn't stand, and half stuff I loved beyond all passion -- take that, cavalcade!

Guacamole with Cottage Cheese

Before you even taste this guacamole, you will be impressed by its lovely light green shade. We've never seen anything quite like it before, and the bonus is that it doesn't darken a bit as it sits, the way most other guacamoles do. Collective member Ned Asta's seven-year-old son Tazio devoured most of this recipe in one sitting and asked if he could have it every time he went to Moosewood.

1 ripe avocado, preferably Hass
2/3 cup low-fat cottage cheese
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
1 tablespoon chopped scallions
3/4 teaspoon minced fresh chile
2 garlic cloves, pressed
salt and ground black pepper to taste

Slice the avocado in half lengthwise and separate the halves by gently twisting. Remove the pit. With a tablespoon or soup spoon, scoop out the flesh of each half. In a food processor, combine the avocado, cottage cheese, lime juice, scallions, chile, and garlic and purée until smooth. Add salt and pepper to taste and serve immediately or chill.

The flavor of the guacamole will increase in intensity as it sits.

Makes 1 1/2 cups
Total time: 10 minutes

Yeah... I'm nearly ashamed to admit it, but I couldn't stand to be near an avocado when I was growing up. A high school friend turned me around on that point the summer of 1994...so, right after college graduation. I was a late bloomer. Cottage cheese and I go way back, though. I like it plain. I like it sweet. I like it savory.

And, yes, I like it in guacamole.

It's great served with the black bean chilaquile, or any other spicy TexMex dish. It's also great on chips, or with any other dip-able. I also like it schmeared onto a turkey sandwich. Mmmm...

Did you know that all Hass avocados descend from one avocado tree? Mail man Rudolph Hass had a particularly lovely avocado tree in his back yard, and patented the tree back in the 30s. It survived until 2002, and every Hass avocado tree is a descendant of Mr. Hass's original mother tree.

I love that you can get fresh avocados all year long. They're never out of season! And once you learn how to judge a ripe avocado, you'll be able to whip up guac whenever you want. My ripeness trick? Flick off the stem "button" -- if it comes right off, the avocado is ripe. If it doesn't come off without resistance, it's not ripe yet. If you don't want to use the avocado right away, buy it under-ripe; it'll be perfect in a day or two.