Food for Thought Thursdays: Grown-up Desserts and Sneaky Snacks

We are very happy to introduce Caroline Barrett, a food blogger — you can catch her musings and terrific recipes at Table for 5, one of our faves — and a mother who tries to find creative ways to feed her growing family. We've been a fan of her blog and her writing for a while, so we asked her to do a guest post for Food for Thought Thursday. We love what she's written about and can completely identify with both the need for something sweet after dinner and the sneakiness dilemma. Enjoy!



What do you eat when you find yourself alone in the kitchen? For me, it's always something sweet.

At the end of the day, when all three children are tucked into bed and baths are done, homework is checked and all is blissfully quiet, I look for something to eat. I'm not talking about a bunch of grapes or a sliced apple. I'm talking chocolate. Ice cream. Or cookies.

Our evenings usually go something like this: Dinner is put on the table. It might be ridiculously simple, like rice and beans. Or it could be something I thought about for far too long, bought special ingredients for, read many recipes about, and then wrung my hands while everyone took their first bite, wondering if all the effort was worth it. Either way, there is bound to be some complaining about eating the salad. Or the asparagus. Even a lovely bunch of green beans is likely to get a grimace from my five-year-old son. No matter the dinner or the response, I always expect the same thing when the meal is done. Someone always asks: What's for dessert?

This comes as the last bite of food is taken, and the forks have barely hit the plates. Now, depending on my mood, and how well everyone ate, I'm game for a little sweet after dinner. So I'll offer up a Newman-O (the natural food world's answer to Oreos,) or a popsicle made from leftover smoothies. Occasionally I'll say yes to a small scoop of ice cream. We usually leave big desserts for the weekend or special occasions.

So back to the good part, the one that comes after they are all tucked in bed. When I'm finally alone in the kitchen, I turn the lights down low. Wipe down the counters. Stack papers from school and put mail away. It can all wait until tomorrow. Then, I pour a glass of wine. Not a wimpy glass, no. I fill it right up, a big glass of Pinot Noir or a Zinfandel. Those both go well with late night snacking. And then it's time to bring out the good dessert: the grown-ups dessert.

Sometimes my husband is in on this crime with me. We keep a hidden pint of Adirondack Creamery's Chocolate Chocolate Chip hidden deep in our freezer. It's usually under the corn and behind the peas, a place no kid would look. Their ice cream is incredible rich, chocolate-y, but not too sweet. It's also sold at the Delmar Marketplace, making it easy for us to make a late-night run for a pint if we find our hidden stash too low.

Another favorite secret dessert is the really cheap kind of ginger snaps sold in any grocery store. Strange, I know. It's something about the small size of the cookie, the irresistible crunch and the real bite of ginger. All for $1.99! The serving size on the box says 5 cookies. Really, they go down so quickly that I can probably eat 20 with my (big) glass of wine. Those cookies are good for any clandestine snacking, as they also go well with coffee, tea or milk. I have been caught eating a handful on Sunday morning at 10 am, coffee cup in hand.

My most recent late night snack was the edges from a big pan of brownies. We made a double batch of brownies for Zoe's 9th birthday. It's a rite of passage at any public school to bring in something sweet to share on your birthday. So we mixed up the brownies, she licked the beaters clean, and headed off to bed while they baked in the oven. Next morning, she came down to find all of the edges from the big pan cut off and removed.

"Why are there no edges to my brownies?" she asked. I told her the truth: they were a little too crispy. I just didn't offer up the whole truth: they were too crispy, yes. So I cut all of the edges off, tucked them into a container, and put it in my other secret hiding spot behind the kitchen knives. Tonight, I'll pour myself one of those lovely glasses of wine, and pull out a few of those crispy brownie edges. Maybe I'll make Paul and myself little brownie sundaes, with a scoop of Adirondack Creamery's Chocolate Chocolate Chip on top.

There is risk in all this devious behavior. More than a few times, while we happily spoon our contraband and sip our wine, we'll hear a bedroom door squeak open and footsteps on the stairs. Thanks goodness we live in an old house. Can you imagine if the stairs didn't creak and they showed up in the kitchen, unannounced? When we hear those little footsteps, we scramble to hide our bowls, plates, whatever we were eating. We have been caught on one or two occasions. Once, when Lucy was 3 (she's now 10,) she was being devilish and wouldn't go to bed. There we were, bowls of ice cream in hand, feeling annoyed because we couldn't enjoy it. She kept jumping on her bed, then running down the stairs to see if we were paying attention. Paul calmly put his bowl down, went upstairs and told her to get into bed. Then he put his face very close to hers and said, "Lucy, go to bed, right now." To which she replied, "I smell ice cream."Lucy is no dummy. Knowing that there was ice cream being eaten in the house, there was no way she was going to bed. Paul tried to deny it, but she knew.

Maybe I should feel a little guilty about all this sneakiness. It's not the best behavior to model for my children, is it? As a parent, though, we have to take our small joys and escapes where we can find them. And I guess I shouldn't feel too bad about eating a big dessert, because I eat all my vegetables, every one of them. Without even making a face.

Food for Thought Thursdays: Better Late Than Never

We are very happy to have a guest blog today from Tom Bradley, a freelance writer, blog fan, new cook and friend. As his story shows, cooking does more than simply nourish your body.


Tom here: For the first 48 years of my life I rarely cooked. I grew up in a home where my mother did all the cooking, and I had no interest in learning how the food found its way to the plate. I was satisfied that it was there. I made the usual bachelor survival foods in college — mac and cheese, grilled steaks and burgers – in the days before Hot Pockets and microwave burritos. And then I married young, and happily returned to the days of enjoying the food that appeared on my plate every night. I was always grateful, mind you. And I did pitch in during the baby years, cheerfully, but unenthusiastically.

I enjoyed good cooking, and loved a well-made, creative meal, but like a theater aficionado who never trod the boards, I didn’t really appreciate the effort behind the production.

Then four years ago my wife became seriously ill. For two years she struggled simply to stay alive, and spent the third year recovering from a heart transplant. She has recovered fully, for which I will be forever grateful. But that doesn’t mean she’s getting her kitchen back.

See, in those four years, I had to pick up the responsibility for pretty much everything around the house – including the cooking. And what I took up out of necessity, I learned to love passionately. I’m only sad I let those first 48 years go by without realizing – dare I say it without copyright infringement? – the joy of cooking.

I realized early on that I couldn’t limp through with the meager menus of my college days. My wife needed to eat well to keep her spirits and weight up. Offering her the same old bland recipes every three days wouldn’t do it. And my children wouldn’t have been too happy, either.

I started by mining the Food Network website, which is an extraordinary and limitless resource for the recipe-deprived. Then I found the book that changed my life: The Best Light Recipe, by the editors of Cook’s Illustrated.

Cook’s Illustrated operated America’s Test Kitchen in Brookline, Massachusetts, which is exactly what it sounds like: a kitchen where they test recipes, products, and cooking equipment. They approach cooking like engineering, and as a former technical writer, their book hit me with a resounding “click.” Not only did they provide me with a solid foundation of yummy, heart-healthy recipes, but they explained every step, every decision, and every option clearly and concisely. It took the fear out of my cooking, and I was launched.

I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, a gourmet cook. I still lean toward the 30-minute recipes, with maybe a weekly excursion into the tougher challenges. But I love trying new things now. I love the complexity of balancing flavors, of choosing spices, of integrating textures and colors on the plate. I make a huge mess when I cook, and don’t mind cleaning up when I’m done because the emotional reward is so worthwhile.

To return to the theatrical metaphor, cooking is like performing. There’s preparation, and physical effort. You make artistic choices and take risks, you juggle and you pray. And in the end, if you’ve done well, you get applause. Well, you don’t really get applause, but you get the emotional reward of hearing the satisfied sounds of people enjoying a meal. If you’ve done really well, you get the cook’s equivalent of a standing ovation: a cleaned plate.

In honor of my cooking bible, here’s a recipe from The Best Light Recipes – simple, and so tasty:

Sauteed Chicken Cutlets with a White Wine and Herb Pan Sauce
(serves 4)

Cutlets;
½ cup unbleached all-purpose flour
4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, trimmed of excess fat, tenderloins removed, and sliced into cutlets
Salt and ground black pepper
2 tablespoons vegetable oil

Sauce:
1 medium shallot, minced
Salt
2 medium garlic cloves, minced or pressed
½ cup dry white wine or vermouth
1 ½ cups low-sodium chicken broth
2 tablespoons whole milk
1 teaspoon cornstarch
2 teaspoons minced fresh parsley leaves
2 teaspoons minced fresh tarragon leaves
Ground black pepper

1. For the cutlets: Spread the flour in a shallow dish. Pat the cutlets dry with paper towels, then season with salt and pepper. Lightly dredge the cutlets in the flour and shake off the excess; set aside.
2. Heat 1 tablespoon of the oil in a 12-inch skillet over medium-high heat until just smoking. Lay half of the cutlets in the skillet and cook until lighly golden, about 3 minutes. Flip the cutlets over and continue to cook until the meat is no longer pink in the center and feels firm when pressed with a finger, about 2 minutes. Transfer the cutlets to a plate and cover with foil; set aside. Repeat with the remaining oil and cutlets.
3. For the sauce: Add the shallot and ¼ teaspoon salt to the oil left in the skillet, return to medium-low heat, and cook until softened, about 2 minutes. Stir in the garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Stir in the wine, scraping up the browned bits. Add the broth, bring to a simmer, and cook until the mixture measures ¾ cup, about 5 minutes.
4. Pour any accumulated chicken juices into the simmering sauce. Whisk the milk and cornstarch together in a small bowl, then whisk into the simmering sauce. Continue to simmer the sauce until it has thickened, about 1 minute. Off the heat, stir in the parsley and tarragon and season with salt and pepper to taste. Spoon the sauce over the cutlets before serving.

Under the Sea

Rachel here: Seriously? I have an awesome husband. Not to gloat, but I really do, and only one of the reasons is that he is a great cook. Throughout our relationship he has been making me linguini (almost always freshly made with his own two hands) with clams and other various undersea creatures, and every time he does, it feels wonderfully decadent, partly because I have never made clams in my life and so it's a food I feel like I access through his culinary prowess. The other night, though, I asked him to teach me how one deals with these little shelled critters, and he did. John doesn't use recipes; he just thinks about food and then makes it and so, what you'll find below are loose guidelines for approaching a seriously delicious (and, to my surprise, rather easy if you don't make the pasta) and hearty dinner.

Ingredients
linguini (As I mentioned above, John usually makes it fresh; this time we bought it freshly made at the grocery store)
2-3 cloves garlic, minced (depending on how garlicky you like your food)
1 small shallot, diced
chicken stock (see recipe)
white wine (see recipe)
2 T. butter
clams (we used 8 small ones per person, although John prefers using the large ones--and thus fewer per person--for better flavor)
lemon
2+ T. parsley, chopped
grape tomatoes, large handful, cut in half
salt

Method
Make your linguini, cooking it until it is nearly done. Remove from heat and douse in cold water to stop the cooking. If you are using fresh pasta, toss with olive oil to prevent the pasta from sticking to itself. Wash your clams. In a large pan, saute the shallot and then the garlic. Add 1/2 c. to 1 c. white wine and 1/2 c. to 1 c. chicken stock (using less will make a less brothy meal, more will make it brothier...this second way is how we prefer it) plus the 2 T. butter to pan. Squeeze the juice from half a lemon in and add the clams. Cover the pan and simmer until the clams are cooked. Once the clams are cooked (they'll all be open now), add the pasta, parsley and a large handful of grape tomatoes. Other additions that are yummy include capers, chili flakes, or a little cayenne. Serve with crusty bread and a wedge of lemon and enjoy!



Janet here: I am a huge shrimp fan and was very excited to discover this recipe in Ellie Krieger's cookbook, The Food You Crave. My parents loved to eat out and on Saturday nights, we often traveled an hour away to a restaurant my dad had somehow discovered in the pre-internet era in the middle of nowhere in upstate New York. Cows munched contentedly in a field across from the farmhouse restaurant. Inside, my sister and I had run of the place while my parents enjoyed a cocktail with the innkeeper before we ordered dinner in front of a roaring fire.

Shrimp cocktail was one of my favorite hors d'oeuvres. I felt so grown up munching on jumbo shrimp and sipping my Shirley Temple (later named a Barbra Streisand by my father when I was older). This baked shrimp with tomatoes and feta isn't the same obviously, but if you love shrimp, you'll love this. I served it over orzo, which worked quite well.

Baked Shrimp with Tomatoes and Feta
serves 4 (with plenty for leftovers)

Ingredients
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium onion, diced (about 1 1/2 cups)
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 14.5 ounc cans diced tomatoes with their juices
1/4 finely minced fresh flat-leaf parsley
1 tablespoon finely minced fresh dill (I used dried because I didn't have fresh and it was fine)
1 1/4 pounds medium shrimp, peeled and deveined
1/4 teaspoon salt or to taste
1/4 teaspoon pepper or to taste
2/3 cup crumbled feta

Method
Heat oven to 425 degrees
In an ovenproof skillet heat oil over medium high heat. Add the onion; cook, stirring, until softened, about 3 minutes. Add the garlic, cook one minute. Add the tomatoes and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium-low and let simmer for about 5 minutes until the tomatoe juices thicken.

Remove from heat. Stir in the parsley, dill, shrimp and season with salt and pepper. Springl the feta over the top. Back until the shrimp are cooked through and the cheese melts, about 12 minutes. Enjoy.

Soup-er Suppers

First an apology. We're having trouble loading our post so I'm trying it without the pictures to see if that works. Hopefully we'll get this resolved soon. In the meantime, use your imagination.

Janet here: Part of what I want from a meal in winter is comfort. The weather is generally dreary and when I come in the door after work, I want warmth — literally and figuratively. I want a fire roaring in the fireplace and I want to create a warm feeling for my family by the food I cook. It's a tall order I know but if I can make it happen even one day a week, I'm happy.

For me, soup figures large in this elusive formula. I'm not sure why really. It's not as if I grew up on homemade soups. But for some reason slurping on soup just makes me feel cozy, and potato leek soup makes me feel coziest of all. Here's hoping it makes you feel the same with the people you love. I plan to serve mine on a busy night this week when both my husband and I have to go out again after work to various functions. I will probably add grilled cheese on some good bread and maybe if I'm feeling really ambitious, a salad. It's a hearty meal for a cold winter's night, which is what every night is like here in the Northeast where I live until, oh, April ... if we're lucky.

Potato and Leek Soup
serves 4-5

Ingredients
2 tablespoons butter
3 medium leeks, well cleaned and diced--not the green part
1 yellow onion, sliced
4 large Russet potatoes, cubed (I leave the skin on because that's where a lot of the nutrients and fiber are but you can skin if you prefer)
32 oz. vegetable broth (yes you can make your own but I'm a working mother so I use Trader Joe's hearty organic vegetable broth. If you make your own, you are an instant cooking goddess in my book.)
milk (amount to be determined by how soupy you like your soup)
salt, pepper and chives to taste

Method
Melt the butter and saute the leeks and onion until translucent in a large pot. Once done, add the potato cubes and the vegetable broth. Simmer until the potatoes are done. Let cool and then throw into the blender. You'll have to do it in bunches because it won't all fit. Then add some milk to get it to the consistency you like (add a little at a time so you don't overdo it and end up with milk soup) and voila! Fabulous hearty soup. Try adding some chives and grated cheese on top right before serving.

Rachel here: So, I want to go have dinner at my mom's house because potato leek soup is one of the better things in life, I think. When she told me she was making it I decided to try to make a soup that got me just as excited. And so, for the first time ever, I made french onion soup. It seemed so warm and sweet and tangy when I thought of it. Plus, I had seen a recipe in Real Simple magazine a few months back and the picture that accompanied the recipe made my mouth water every time I turned to that page. The end product, while totally satisfactory, was a soup that both my partner and I felt was missing a certain something. We're not sure what it is, but we both felt that this recipe was a little too basic tasting. We suspect the issue could be with the store-bought broth (since we are definitely make-your-own-stock people...alas, the move...and, as an aside, if you save those chicken bones from my mom's chicken salad she posted the other day you're on your way to making your own delicious reserve of chicken stock!) It was, however, a vehicle for toasted bread with cheese and so, dutifully, we each devoured our bowls. Anyway, if you have your own french onion soup recipe that you think hits the nail on the head, or if you've tried this one and have similar sentiments about it, I'd love to hear from you!

serves 4

Ingredients
3 T. unsalted butter
2 lbs. onions, thinly sliced
salt and pepper
1/2 c. dry white wine (somewhere I saw a recipe that called for cognac...anybody ever tried this?)
1 c. low-sodium beef broth
4 1/2 inch-thick slices of country bread, cut to fit across serving bowls
1 c. grated Swiss cheese
1/2 T. fresh thyme

Method
Heat the butter in a large pot over medium-high heat and add the onions, 2/3 tspn. salt and a dash of fresh pepper. Cook, covered, stirring occasionally, until tender (about 10-15 minutes). Reduce heat to medium and cook, uncovered, until the onions are golden brown. This will take a while (at least 30-40 minutes) and you should stir the onions occasionally, scraping the bottom of the pot when you do to get the fullest possible flavor.

Add the wine and cook until slightly reduced (about 2 minutes). Next, add the broth and 3 c. of water and bring this to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 15 minutes.

In the meantime, heat the broiler. Broil the bread until each side is golden brown (1-2 minutes or so per side). Remove, sprinkle with cheese, and place back in broiler to melt.

Pour soup into bowls, top with bread and add a sprinkle of thyme. You will be warm and toasty in a no time.