Short ribs with bourbon, baby bellas, and shallots

YES, WE JUST FINISHED GRADING PAPERS for the semester, but that's not why we're turning to Jim Beam.

I manage to collect a variety of magazines this time of year, all of them touting holiday recipes and sure-fire ways to please your family and amaze your friends. All sorts of instruction and helpful hints: sixteen nifty ways to wrap presents with colored cellophane and cheesecloth remains; how to turn a block of cheddar and a Maraschino cherry into a Rudolph silhouette . . . which is perhaps why I found myself spending a little time reading about old cookbooks and recipes in a copy of Early American Life.

In that lovely magazine, I came across a recipe for stew from Leslie Mansfield's "Lewis and Clark Cookbook," in which bourbon flavored the sauce. Intriguing! I thought, and at the next field trip into town, I bought six hearty short ribs, a package of baby bella mushrooms, and a bottle of Jim Beam. I seared the ribs in a little corn oil in a Dutch oven, removed them, added the mushrooms, then added a bunch of small shallots a friend had given me. I returned the ribs to the pot, added 2 cups of beef broth and 1/2 cup of bourbon. Covered and simmered for about two hours. Then, I removed the ribs, added yet another 1/2 cup of Jim Beam, cooked another three or four minutes, stirring up all the goodness, thickened the sauce with a little roux, and cooked a bit more. Served at once, accompanied by a few scoops of roasted potatoes, carrots and red onions. Quite nice.

A fatty dish, short ribs aren't something to consume on a regular basis. But the bourbon gave the sauce a marvelous, hearty note, and a little nip added to reductions for beef will take the ordinary one step beyond.

Image from www.jimbeam.com

Future Iron Chef. Current NCC Cover Boy.

WILL ALEX EVER FORGIVE US?

Read all about Aunt Theresa's Holiday cookie bake in the December/January issue of North Country Cooking.

Russian Tea Cakes

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1 cup butter, or 1/2 butter and 1/2 margarine

1/2 cup sifted powdered sugar

1 tsp. vanilla

2 1/4 cups flour

1/4 tsp. salt

3/4 cup finely chopped nuts

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Mix all ingredients together except the nuts. Add nuts last. Chill dough and then roll into balls. Place on ungreased cookie sheet. Bake at 350 degrees until set but not brown, about 10 minutes. They should just be turning brown around the bottom edge of the ball. While they are still warm, roll in confectioner's sugar.

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Recipe and photo by Theresa Perron-Janowski.

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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.