Cheesecake, Part Two

For our cross-cultural cheesecake, we used a blend of ricotta and cream cheese, along with a sour cream topping. We decided against separating the eggs, which we beat and added gently to the cheeses, sugar, and vanilla. The almonds we crushed into a crust; the chunks of white and semi-sweet chocolate we mixed with one-third of the cheese mixture and layered at the bottom of the cake.

Baked in a spring form pan at 275 degrees for 80 minutes, removed from the oven and topped with the sour cream and sugar mixture and the candied fruit. Bake another ten minutes. Cool on a wire rack, run a knife around the edge, then chill overnight in the refrigerator. Release from the pan and complete decorating (we piped on the 'vines' of green translucent icing). Served with dollops of simple raspberry sauce (berries cooked down with sugar for 12 minutes, a little Triple Sec added at the end. I like this far better strained of seeds.)

I was struck by how much the cake's texture resembled those my mother had made early in her baking career, when, perhaps, she'd been working from recipes more Sicilian in nature. I wish I'd paid more attention to the virtual vats of cheesecake she'd pull out of the oven on a regular basis. At any rate, there's inspiration to try again. Next time, we might use all white chocolate, or skip the chocolate layer altogether. Maybe lighten the crust with flour.

Someday, we'll get it just right.

Cheesecake

MY DAUGHTERS, ELIZABETH AND MARION, are headed home from UVM today, and tomorrow we'll bake a cassata, among other niceties, for the Thanksgiving table. I haven't quite settled on a recipe.

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Truth be told, I much prefer the smooth, rich taste of cream cheese over ricotta in a cake. My mother, Josephine Berretta Buel, who could have been a stand in for Rita Hayworth, only with darker hair and eyes, made the most luscious cheesecake imaginable. Not, though, with ricotta.

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For this holiday, I want something silky and familiar, but with a more traditional Sicilian flair, and the jewelry of candied fruit as well. I want a cake that's a feast for the eyes. After all, we have a reputation to uphold.

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We'll scour the cookbooks this afternoon and report back.

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Postscript: We didn't find a recipe we'll use straight off, so we're making one up. We'll beat 3 packages of cream cheese with 1 cup of sugar and 2 teaspoons vanilla, maybe add a cup of sour cream (we'll see how we feel), blend in 2 cups of whole milk ricotta, beat in egg yolks, then fold the mixture gently with the beaten whites. Bake in a low oven in a spring-form pan atop a crust of crushed almonds (a nod to my mother). We're debating the chocolate layer, as there's some objection to that at present. And we'll adorn the whole with candied fruits. Film at 11.

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Irish Apple Cake

Submitted for your approval -- what we'll be baking this dark, rainy Saturday afternoon. Here's a wish the skies are sunnier in your world.

Irish Apple Cake

This simple, satisfying dessert is sure to please and quick to prepare.

1 stick of butter, at room temperature
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup brown sugar
1 Tbsp. vanilla extract
3 tsp. ground cinnamon
2 large eggs
1/4 cup milk
1-1/2 cups all purpose flour
2 tsp. baking powder
2 or 3 apples
1 Tbsp. lemon juice
1/2 cup raisins
1/2 cup chopped walnuts

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter and lightly flour a 9-inch spring form pan. Set aside.
Peel and finely chop the apples — Gala are lovely, but Cortland, Golden Delicious, Granny Smiths, and Empire appear in many recipes. Place in a small bowl and toss with the lemon juice. Set aside.

Cut the butter into pieces and place in a large bowl. Beat until creamy. Add the sugars, and beat until mixture is light and fluffy. Add the vanilla extract, cinnamon, eggs, and milk, and beat again until thoroughly mixed. Sift the flour with the baking powder and gently beat into the mixture until well blended. Do not, however, over beat. Add the apples, raisins, and walnuts and mix with a large spoon or spatula.

Spoon the batter — it will be stiff — into the spring form pan and smooth the top. Bake at 350 degrees until a skewer inserted into the center comes out clean, about 40 minutes (check the cake after 35, just to be sure). Cool in pan on rack for ten minutes. Loosen the edge with a knife and release the rim. Allow to cool, or serve while still warm with a scoop of ice cream. Wrap well in plastic to keep cake moist.

Photo by Elizabeth Brown.

Plucky's New Digs

PLUCKY is one lucky chick. She and her fellow feathered friends will winter nicely in the new coop built for them by Kevin Daly of Kirby, Vermont -- gobbling up the best chicken grub in these parts, gossiping, watching their favorite reality shows (they love "The Real Henpeckers of the Delmarva Peninsula"), doing a little needlepoint in the evenings . . . and of course handing over the occasional egg.


And what does Plucky and her gang have to do with anything? Well, very little. But if I'd titled this entry appropriately, I'd lose at least a few of you.


I've been feeling a little peaked lately. Kind of stressed out. No 'me' time. Eating whatever's hanging around. Much as I love cornbread, subsisting on squares of it swallowed down with lukewarm coffee for a day and half is probably not wise. Last night I needed a something more.

Enter the chicken livers.

Now, I don't eat them regularly. They are the stuff of solitary dining, as a dish of chicken livers is not something anyone I know requests to be served. But I do now and then actually crave them, the way I crave steak, or fish, or the occasional Baby Ruth bar. And while I'm not a nutritionist, I've often felt that our cravings frequently register some sort of need.

So, the chicken livers. For those of you who are still with me, here is how I prepare them. Rinse them in cold water. Discard any that are not firm -- I am ruthless about this. Anything spongy or falling apart gets tossed. Cut away the little tendons. Now place what's left in a bowl and cover with milk. Allow to soak for 20 to 30 minutes.

Drain and pat dry well. Dredge gently in flour seasoned with salt and pepper. Dip in an egg wash, then back they go again in the flour (I prefer just flour, though you could add breadcrumbs for a more substantial coating).

Heat a little corn oil in a skillet over medium high heat. When warm but not too hot, add the livers in a single layer. Cook, turning occasionally, until golden brown. Remove to a plate, salt lightly, eat immediately.

My husband liked chicken livers. I'd make a simple gravy for them after cooking -- pour out most of the oil, toss in a tablespoon plus a little more of flour. Stir and cook just a minute, add a cup and a half of milk, mix all together well and bring to a mild simmer. Season well with salt and pepper. Melt in a little butter, too, if you like.

So there you have it. Fried chicken livers. Of course, there's sauteed chicken livers, and liver with onions and rice . . . but this might be just enough for a Friday morning. As for Plucky, her liver is not in jeopardy.

Photo by Gretchen Daly.

NO CUTTLEFISH FOR ME, THANKS

As luck would have it last night, I stumbled upon the second half of an episode of Andrew Zimmern's Bizarre Foods devoted to Sicilian cooking. Featured on the show was a well-known chef and cooking school owner, Eleonara Consoli, who invited the TV host into her home for a lesson. That home, her website declares, is a "typical 18th Century" Sicilian house, set "in the pleasant atmosphere of the volcano," and surrounded by vineyards, orchards, and lemon and orange groves. As Ms. Consoli poured a little olive oil into a skillet to prepare a dish, Zimmern teased her, "So, is that French oil, Greek?" His hostess fairly glared at him. Of course it was pressed from the olives grown on the fertile hillsides of Etna.

I don't speak Italian, and Ms. Consoli doesn't seem to speak a lot of English (one page of her site proclaims: "Sfizi & Capricci --in this web site section you will find, as soon as possible,
ideas and advices to buy using your fantasy and create through the stoves . . . ") and her books, part of the Sicilian cooking canon, are untranslated if not outright unavailable. But we do have the massive 1200 page "The Silver Spoon" to guide us through some of the more 'bizarre' foods that Zimmern featured on the show. No recipe for cuttlefish eggs, perhaps, but one for cuttlefish au gratin might suffice; also, nothing listed that could replace the Sicilian speciality, tuna sperm -- the testicles of the great fish, which, apparently, tastes like fish or chicken liver. On this, I am willing to take others at their word.

Sicilian cooking varies from Italian in a number of ways, given Spanish, Greek, and Arab influences upon the cuisine. Rice, not the staple of the north, was at one time a dish for invalids; beef is a rarity; rabbit is served as often as chicken. What comes from the sea is highly prized. And nothing is wasted.

Another well-known book of Sicilian cuisine is Wanda and Giovanna Tornabene's "La Cucina Sicilian di Gangivecchio," which also grew out of a cooking school. Lucky for us, a beautifully illustrated English translation is available. It features a simple recipe for cassata, the famous Sicilian cheesecake made with ricotta. These treats, decorated with candied fruits and layered, frequently, with chocolate, are feasts for the eyes and appetites. Our Thanksgiving table will feature one this year.

Kingdom Cooking | Seven Days

NORTH COUNTRY COOKING making news! Thanks to Seven Days writers Suzanne Podhaizer and Alice Levitt for this, which appears in this week's Side Dishes column.

Kingdom Cooking Seven Days

What with the media blitz around Hardwick, the Northeast Kingdom has made a name for itself in recent years as a foodie haven. The logical next development: a homegrown publication to cover the bounty. With the debut of North Country Cooking, editor Denise Brown has produced just that.

Brown had two pilot issues of the bimonthly magazine distributed free to gauge interest before the release of the October-November edition, which is available for $1.50 at bookstores and markets all over the Northeast Kingdom. Annual subscriptions cost $18 ($9 for seniors).

A Lyndonville resident and writing instructor at Lyndon State College, Brown says her project is targeted at “people who enjoy cooking, enjoy being in the kitchen and feeding their families well, but who don’t want to spend a huge amount of money.” The current cover story discusses the practice of turkey hunting. Other features include a piece by Susan Greenall, author of Vermonters’ Guide to Gathering, Growing & Cooking with Local Foods, about using roses in the kitchen; a profile of Eden Ice Cider; and sections about bread, pickles and pumpkins. “My goal is to keep the magazine useful but beautiful and to have lots of good recipes; to make it reader friendly,” says Brown.

On Basil

BASIL

There in Fiesole it was always fresh

In the laneway where the spry grandfather

Tipped you his smile in the earliest wash

Of sunlight, piling strawberries high and higher

In a fragile pyramid of edible air.

Light down the years, the same sun rinses your dark

Hair over and over with brightness where

You kneel to stir the earth among thyme and chard,

Rosemary and the gathering of mints,

The rough leaf picked for tea this summer noon,

The smooth one saved for pesto in the winter,

For the cold will come, though you turn to me soon,

Your eyes going serious green from hazel,

Your quick hand on my face the scent of basil.

----- Gibbons Ruark

Born in Raleigh, North Carolina in 1941, Gibbons Ruark grew up in Methodist parsonages in various towns in the eastern part of the state. Educated in North Carolina public schools and at the Universities of North Carolina and Massachusetts, he has published his poems widely for over forty years in magazines like The New Republic, Poetry, The New Yorker and Ploughshares. His work has won him numerous awards, including three NEA Poetry Fellowships, a Pushcart Prize and the 1984 Saxifrage Prize for Keeping Company. His poem "John Clare's Finches," first published in The New Republic, appears in The Best American Poetry 2009. Among his eight collections, the most recent are Passing Through Customs: New and Selected Poems (LSU Press, 1999) and Staying Blue (Lost Hills Books, 2008). After forty years of teaching, he has retired to his birthplace of Raleigh, where he lives with his wife Kay.

SO WHAT DID I MAKE for dinner last night? Reservations. It was definitely a 'get me the heck out of the house' kind of night.

We drove out of town, since there's not a whole lot of anything in town, and dined at a little Italian place where the food is generally, well, adequate. My expectations were reasonable, and a glass of pinot noir fairly satisfied most of them, given the sort of week it had been.

I ordered the eggplant parmigiana, and was pleasantly surprised when served the plate of thin slices lightly breaded and fried to just the right amount of crispness.

But the sauce. The sauce. Ketchup cut with Ragu. Kind of sad.

I'm a bit of a stickler about sauce. I like what I like. I don't like it sweet. I don't want it thick enough to plaster a wall. I don't want carrots or rutabagas juiced or pureed into the pot. I want simple: tomatoes, onion, garlic, basil.

Fresh sauces are another subject of course. And we could write a book about meat sauces. So, for today, a quick and dirty primer on everyday marinara.

One of the best sauces I've made lately started with a very finely chopped onion sauteed until tender in olive oil in the bottom of a heavy pot. To this I added quite a handful of dried basil (yes, fresh is better -- added at the end -- but let's face it, sometimes you go dried -- do you think that people all over Italy only use fresh?). I let it warm in the oil until it was marvelously fragrant. Then I added five cans of tomatoes -- different brands, each bringing something to the mix. I probably added a little wine, but as W. C. Fields said, "I enjoy cooking with wine . . sometimes I even add it to the food." (Sometimes a cup or more of broth goes in, if the entree warrants such an addition.)

Lots of crushed black pepper, I'm sure, as I like lots of crushed black pepper. Healthy pinches of red pepper, too. And I let all this simmer for about 40 minutes, stirring often. That's all. Not all morning. Not two hours. Forty minutes tops. At the end, I adjust the seasonings and add a healthy bit of extra virgin olive oil.

I don't add sugar. Not 'never' but almost never. Sometimes, just at the very end, if the tomatoes are simply too acidic and the cooking and spices can't mitigate the sting. But almost never.

And there's the everyday sauce.

As for the photo: that's my dog, Gustav. He hates sugar in the sauce, too.

Duck, Duck, Goose

THE INTELLIGENT WOMAN, writes Sarah Field Splint in her instructive 1928 Procter & Gamble book, The Art of Cooking and Serving, "fits her service to her pocketbook and strength." This advice comes in the chapter, "Table Service in the Servantless House."

Strangely, I find myself in that category, having foolishly allowed my children to grow up and explore lives of their own, and while the dogs are well-meaning, the lack of opposable thumbs does limit their dexterity. And they can never seem to remember on which side of the plate the salad fork should rest.

But I digress. Ms. Splint, in her inimitable wisdom, offers a variety of menus for those households "with a maid" and those without, suggests that cold fried chicken and watercress sandwiches make in part a lovely picnic-motor lunch, and apparently feels that no "occasion" is celebrated adequately without oysters on the half-shell.

Those oysters appear in her Christmas menu, which, we should add, does not come with a note on whether it's something a "servantless" hostess should attempt. Submitted for your approval, then, is what you might have served on Christmas Day, had you been at work in the kitchen, or supervising your staff, 90 years ago:

Oysters on the Half-Shell

Stuffed Celery, Ripe Olives

Cream of Mushroom Soup

Bread Sticks

Roast Duck or Goose, Fried Apples

Glace Sweet Potatoes, Creamed Cauliflower

Dinner Rolls, Currant Jelly

Hearts of Lettuce Salad

Mince Pie, French Ice Cream

Nuts, Mints

Coffee

What a lovely menu. Not a spiral-cut ham in sight. While I've never served duck or goose on Christmas Day myself, I do believe this season I will try. Maybe a tradition will be born.

Confidential to Joyce M -- the confit was utterly delicious. Many thanks.

Fideos a la marinera, sort of

A VERY SUCCESSFUL TAKE on the recipe from New Tapas: I used shrimp only, which I sauteed separately in garlic and butter and added just before serving, and substituted vegetable bouillon for water when cooking the pasta (gemelli, a fine choice for this dish). Left out the tomatoes and put them on a salad to accompany, and traded a sweeter yellow pepper for the green. A Covey Run Riesling worked well, and was marvelously potable alongside the finished meal. Spiced the dish with some ground rosemary and basil and lots of pepper, then added perhaps 2/3 cup of heavy cream at the very end. End result, very delicious.

As you can see, I am constitutionally incapable of following a recipe exactly as written. Hope you are as well.

Bar hopping through Spain

IF THIS BEAUTIFUL BOOK doesn't get your juices going, you need a vacation, my friend. How about Madrid as a starting point? Then on to Seville, and San Sebastian?

Simple, authentic ingredients -- everything from eggs to anchovies, beans to bacon, chickpeas to spicy chorizo -- quickly prepared into small dishes that tease the appetite -- wonderful inspiration for party fare, for those evenings when you want a little of this, a little of that, or for a new twist on familiar entrees.

Tonight, I'll try a take on Fideos a la marinera, though I'm leaving out the cuttlefish . . . pasta with onion, green peppers, tomatoes, and garlic, enhanced with shrimp, cod, clams, or some of each, depending on what looks fresh. Fry up the chopped vegetables in some olive oil. Add some white wine and reduce. Soften a few threads of saffron in boiling water. Add 4 cups of water and the saffron to the vegetables, simmer for 15 minutes. Add 8 ounces short pasta and whatever fish or seafood you like -- you'll cook this something like risotto, stirring often but gently, until the pasta is tender and the fish cooked through. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Will report back in the morning.

NEW TAPAS: Culinary Travels with Spain's Top Chefs. --Fiona Dunlop

Japanese Sweet and Sour Pork

INSPIRED BY VIRGINIA BENTLEY and the frost covering the ground this morning: a quick sweet and sour pork with a Japanese twist.

Toss 1 pound bite-sized pork with 1 tablespoon soy sauce. Set aside.

Saute chopped onion and green pepper, about a cup of each, in a few tablespoons of corn oil. Add 1/2 cup each sliced shiitake mushrooms and bamboo shoots and continue cooking. Salt lightly. Remove from pan and set aside. In the same pan, stir fry the pork in a bit of additional oil until browned and mostly cooked through.

In a small bowl, mix together the juice from an 8 ounce can of pineapple chunks, 2 tablespoons corn starch, 1/4 cup rice wine vinegar, 3 tablespoons soy sauce, 1 tablespoon ketchup, 1/4 cup sugar. Add to the pan and bring to a boil. Boil for one to two minutes, stirring constantly. Add the reserved vegetables and pineapple chunks; stir well, and heat through. Serve immediately with white or brown rice.

Some recipes call for the addition of pre-cooked carrots. If desired, simmer carrots in a small amount of salted water until just tender, then slice into thin coins or long diagonals. Add just before serving.