As American as Apple Pie

Ask any number of cooks about their first experiences in the kitchen and you will likely get reminiscences of childhood. Many chefs can recount learning at the apron hem of a mother or grandmother. Others will recall a seminal moment in the making of their culinary minds.   

One of my favorite seminal moments regards Chef Bobby Flay, who at 8 years of age asked his parents for a Christmas gift of an Easy-Bake Oven, which he did receive, apparently to his father’s chagrin, oven's being girl-stuff. Being of Flay’s generation, I completely understand the appeal of the Easy-Bake Oven, ubiquitous in the ‘70’s, in which one could bake a miniature cake with the heat of a light bulb. I wanted one of those so desperately you cannot even imagine. My parents never took the hint.

(Note the tag-line. And the tie-in, Good marketing, that.)

Luckily, they did allow me to bake in the real oven (supervised, of course). And the very first thing I ever remember learning to bake was an apple pie. The irony in my learning how to prepare this American staple is that I learned it in Buttevant, Co. Cork, Ireland from my Irish Grandma. 

I was 4 years old and we were in her kitchen. It was the first time (and actually the last) that I did anything with my grandmother, my previous visit being as an infant. The pie baking episode was also the only time all three generations of women in my family would ever have that experience together. 


My grandparent’s lived in a small cottage across from a cow pasture on a small piece of land where two roads diverged. Grandpa, a quiet blacksmith, and grandma, a formidable woman, had raised 10 children in that tiny house. It was damp and cold, but from the small high window in the bathroom you could hear the chickens out back talking to each other. 

(Quite a few people for that tiny house! Only 7 kids here, mind you.)

I think Grandma chose to make an apple pie as a special treat for my dad, “the Yank”. We made the pastry dough from scratch of course, cutting cold butter into the flour. We peeled and chopped apples and tossed them in sugar and cinnamon. After the top crust was placed over the apples, my mom showed me how to score the edge with a fork. When the pie was done, it was served with cups of hot tea with milk and sugar: a quintessentially American dessert with a quintessentially Irish beverage.

As I grew up, my mom and I would occasionally bake an apple pie together, usually for a holiday or special occasion. We invariably ended up making an absolute mess of the kitchen, but we didn't care because we were laughing and talking and having so much fun. After I was on my own, mom would stay over for girls' nights and on one occasion we decided to bake a pie together like we did when I was a little. It is one of my fondest memories.

Mom was not naturally inclined to culinary pursuits. So, for the dishes that she did prepare, she relied heavily on her Betty Crocker cookbook (Betty was busy in those days, what with the Easy-Bake and all). Today that cookbook is mine. For the most part, it is pristine, but the section on pies, and particularly apple pies, is dog-eared and scorched.

Betty Crocker Apple Pie

Standard Pastry (9 inch two-crust pie)

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon salt

2/3 cup plus 2 tablespoons shortening

4 to 5 tablespoons cold water

In medium bowl, mix 2 cups flour and 1 teaspoon salt. Cut in shortening, using pastry blender (or pulling 2 table knives through ingredients in opposite directions), until particles are size of small peas. Sprinkle with cold water, 1 tablespoon at a time, tossing with fork until all flour is moistened and pastry almost cleans side of bowl (1 to 2 teaspoons more water can be added if necessary).

Gather pastry into a ball. Divide in half; shape into 2 flattened rounds on lightly floured surface. Wrap in plastic wrap; refrigerate about 45 minutes or until dough is firm and cold, yet pliable. This allows the shortening to become slightly firm, which helps make the baked pastry more flaky. If refrigerated longer, let pastry soften slightly before rolling.

Filling

3/4 cup sugar

1/4 cup all purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon nutmeg

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

dash of salt (abt. 1/8 teaspoon)

6 cups thinly sliced pared tart apples

2 tablespoons butter or margarine

Heat oven to 425. 

With floured rolling pin, roll one pastry round into round 2 inches larger than upside-down 9-inch glass pie plate. Fold pastry into fourths; place in pie plate. Unfold and ease into plate, pressing firmly against bottom and side.

In large bowl, mix sugar, flour, the cinnamon, nutmeg and salt. Stir in apples until well mixed. Turn into pastry-lined pie pan. Dot with butter (cut into small pieces).

Fold other pastry round into fourths and cut slits so steam can escape. Unfold top pastry over filling; trim overhanging edge 1 inch from rim of plate. Seal and flute edges. Cover edge with 2- to 3-inch strip of foil to prevent excessive browning.

Bake 40 to 50 minutes or until crust is brown and juice begins to bubble through slits in crust, removing foil for last 15 minutes of baking. Serve warm if desired.

Not your mama’s biscuits and Gravy…

My latest culinary obsession is New Southern Food, the love child of traditional Southern ingredients (pork jowl, crawfish, grits, butter beans) and modern cooking techniques (molecular gastronomy, anyone?). The writer Josh Ozersky, in an article in Time, dubbed it “lardcore,” saying “it’s meticulous, it’s ballsy, and it doesn’t care what you think of it.” (http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,2027672,00.html) Already popular throughout the southeast, New Southern is headed North with a vengeance not seen since Robert E. Lee. Of course, the dissemination of this idea should receive a considerably better response from the North than the one Lee was advancing.

Now, it’s no secret that I have a love affair with Paula Deen, who is a classicist when it comes to Southern cuisine (her empire was built on fried chicken and mac ‘n’ cheese, for cryin’ out loud). I have also long followed the writing of Pableux Johnson and credit him with educating me on the New Orleans culinary scene. He has never steered me wrong with a restaurant recommendation, introducing me to the delightful food of Chef John Besh at August some time ago. (Mr. Johnson works with the Southern Foodways Alliance, an organization that studies, educates and celebrates all things culinary and Southern. He also has a kick-ass blog: http://bayoudog.com). And a few months back I discovered that I could make damn good grits for a native New Yorker (see my earlier post on Ree Drummond’s Creamy Bacon Cheese Grits). But all this is traditional Southern.

                                             John Besh's August

My interest in New Southern was piqued when I read a New Yorker article  (http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2011/10/31/111031fa_fact_bilger) about Charleston Chef Sean Brock who has championed the reclamation of traditional Southern foods that were in danger of being lost forever. From cultivating seeds from the 19^th century to breeding Ossabaw pigs, Chef Brock is bringing new (or is it old?) life to Southern cuisine. And you know, I can find no fault with a fellow worshiper of the pig! This is a chef who seriously loves vegetables, so much so that he has a veritable garden tattooed on his arm. And, in the style of frugal homemakers throughout the South, Chef Brock pickles and cans whatever produce he cannot use immediately. He is as locavore as locavore gets and his restaurants, McCrady’s and Husk, both in Charleston, are definitely on my must-eat-there list. 

Chef Sean Brock with an armful of veggies

McCrady's Husk 

So you can understand my excitement when a friend recommended we try Gravy, which bills itself as “the first New Southern restaurant in New York City.” In a town where Southern fare usually means soul food or barbeque, Chef is Michael Vignola, formerly of Michael Jordan’s The Steakhouse NYC, is trying his hand at the New Southern style to mixed results. To dip my toe in the pond, I made a reservation for Restaurant Week, the low-risk way to experiment with restaurants in a town where there are well over 20,000 eateries. Upon arrival, it was clear that the well-meaning hostess didn’t quite grasp the logic of seating a dining room for smooth service or the importance of checking coats in a small space. And speaking of that dining room: the décor is a quirky blend of city slick, rustic and Mad Men mod, which I assume is the designer’s vision of New Southern but there was something slightly disjointed about it.

 Mod lounge at Gravy

 brick walls, hickory tables and geometrics, oh my!

Since we are both food fanatics, my friend and I shared each course. We started with the Market Soup, which on the evening we dined was Butternut Squash with Bourbon-soaked Raisins, and the Market Chopped Salad. The soup had good sweetness with a bit of spice on the finish and the raisins were a fantastic twist. However, the salad was underwhelming, sorely in need of a touch more buttermilk ranch dressing and a liberal seasoning (a little salt and pepper goes a long way, folks).

We followed up with Black Garlic Braised Pork Butt, which was served in a pulled-pork style (minus the bun), accompanied by marinated arugula and topped with a citrus grit cake and mirliton relish. The pork was flavorful with hints of barbeque and Asian spice, but the grit cake was underdone and a bit bland. The unusual choice of relish is a nod to Creole cooking, as the mirliton is a common ingredient in holiday dishes in Louisiana. Also known as a chayote, this gourd is native to Mexico and has a very mild flavor and potato-like texture. You generally don’t see a lot of it in NYC restaurants, so that was an interesting surprise.

We also tried the Corn Flake Crusted Chicken (stuffed with Andouille sausage and cheddar cheese, I would have ordered it, but it was only a Restaurant Week lunch option), uh, I mean, the Scallops & Honey Grits. The scallops were perfectly cooked: grilled to a golden brown and melt-in-your-mouth tender, finished with a “Lobster Barbeque Jus” and corn relish. This dish exemplifies the New Southern twist on traditional fare; the smokiness of barbeque added to a very classic sauce. The grits were heavenly. And really, I am so obsessed with grits right now that it was almost all I cared about! Which is why I was thrilled that the entrees were accompanied by Gravy’s Signature Grits 3 Ways. “Honey, Porky and Cheesy” was how the runner described it (who by the way is the best thing happening in that restaurant). Cheesy was definitely the favorite, reminiscent of a delightful risotto of distant memory, the blend of cheeses hard to pin-point but so creamy and delicious that it hardly mattered. The aforementioned honey grits were breakfast the way you always wanted it, but at dinner. Porky let me down, sadly. There was something a bit grainy and sour about it which was surprising given how perfect the other two varieties were. 

Scallops & Honey Grits

Desserts were merely good, not outstanding. We had Mississippi Mud and Pecan pies, the pecan being the better of the two. The Mississippi Mud was not ‘muddy’ enough. I expect richness in that style that was missing; it was more of a brownie than anything else. The Pecan Pie was served slightly warm, but the crust was not very flaky. Overall, the dessert menu was uninspiring and, while Southern in spirit, did not seem very original. In contrast, the cocktail list was full of delights. In addition to classics, like the Sazerac, Mint Julep and the Hurricane, there are Gravy’s signature creations, such as The Debutante, Garden of Good and Evil, and Marie Laveau, after the famed voodoo priestess. The Pimm's Cup brought me back to the Napoleon House in New Orleans, which is high praise indeed. Gravy’s bar is beautifully put-together and its bartenders were attentive and skilled.               

Service otherwise could use some refinement; the weak skills of the front waiters barely counter-balanced by the attention of the back servers (that great runner, a busman that was always on his game). To wit, I would love to tell you that the biscuits and honey butter that are served when you arrive are delicious, but I can’t, since our waiter failed to provide them and we got so busy with our meal that we didn’t press the issue. There was a general air of confusion among the service staff and there didn’t seem to be much managerial direction. I joked to my dinner companion that if I were still in restaurant management, I would poach the runner, busser and the bartender and let them keep the rest!

Gravy has promise and with a little tweaking may prove that the South can rise again, culinarily speaking. In the meantime, I’m calling on Sean Brock and his cohorts to consider bringing a little more Dixie to the Big Apple.

Can't we all just get along?

My beloved Paula came under attack recently for revealing that she has Type 2 diabetes. One of my other favorite chefs, Tony Bourdain, was the attacker. Specifically he remarked that, "When your signature dish is hamburger in between a doughnut, and you've been cheerfully selling this stuff knowing all along that you've got Type 2 Diabetes... It's in bad taste if nothing else." Tony, why the hate?

It should surprise no one familiar with her cooking that Paula developed health issues. Anyone who has watched even one episode of any of her cooking shows would surmise that a daily diet as rich as the one Paula champions is not exactly be health-conscious. And Tony knows this and needs to get off his high horse. As the chef who got his start at Les Halles, a French bistro with menu items such as foie gras, crème brulee, and enough steak to make any cattle rancher proud, he might want to rethink his umbrage. He is also a chef who champions offal, which is not necessarily good for one's health. 

Rich restaurant food is not meant for the everyday and most people understand that. Similarly, Paula's food is clearly not everyday fare if one wants to retain their health and their waistline and if someone isn't wise enough to realize that, well, you can't really blame Paula. The entire Food Network and food media in general (Cooking Channel, magazines such as Bon Appetit, blogs such as Eater) have consistently promoted the rich, fattening, the sweet because these foods are delectible and make for great food porn. A simple salad with vinaigrette is not usually as enticing as a standing rib roast or chocolate souffle.

doesn't this look like more fun

than this?

Now, don't get me wrong. I love Tony. I loved him when he wrote 'Kitchen Confidential' and all my co-workers and friends in the restaurant business were up in arms for his 'telling tales out of school.' I loved him when he wrote a "Cooks Tour" I followed the companion television program when it aired and have been a fan of his show "No Reservations" since it began as well. I have seen him on television and in person being his forthright self, which I have always appreciated, and my love for him is definite and unwavering. Which is why I would remind Tony that most culinary celebrities became famous not because they showed America how to steam vegetables (Jaime Oliver's current promotion of healthy eating not-with-standing). In other words, you, Tony, like virtually every chef I have ever known or followed, live in a glass house. A glass house full of triglycerides and sugars.

Demonizing Paula will not improve the health of the millions of Americans who are already obese or in otherwise ill-health. Paula Deen is certainly not "the most destructive person on the Food Network" as Mr. Bourdain has previously stated. Watch any number of shows on that network and you will see a veritable parade of bad-for-you dishes. She is not the first to promote rich cooking and she won't be the last. She probably should have come clean about her health status sooner, although I am of the camp that believes that sort of information is really nobody's business. (And, let's face it, she is not only a person, but a business and that business has advisors who I'm quite sure agreed that this information was bad for it.) 

Which is likely why Paula responded to his remarks with "Get a life." Yes, Paula will likely now have to promote a healthier agenda in her cooking and otherwise make amends for her "destructive" ways. And I fear her recipes may suffer for it. After all what is traditional Southern cooking if not gloriously fattening and naughty. But as for Tony's assertion that Paula's food sucks? He is sorely mistaken there. Whether it will suck going forward is another question entirely. And one for which Tony may be partly to blame.    

Conspicuous By Your Absence

I’ve seen it written that one shouldn’t acknowledge an absence from blogging once she returns to writing said blog. But I don’t really feel comfortable not acknowledging an absence of several months after writing a daily blog last fall. So herewith, my mea culpa.

Suffice to say that a number of factors contributed to my absence, not the least of which is that I have not had a functional kitchen since October! What started as a leak under the sink became ripping out an entire wall of cabinets, jack-hammering the tile underneath, and parting with our beloved antique cast-iron double basin sink. As is the norm with renovations, everything takes way longer than expected. So, I haven’t been doing much cooking. One would think this would give me the time for more DIY projects, but clearly, it hasn’t.

my beloved sink  : (

And, quite frankly, I think I was overly-ambitious in my previously daily blogging. That sort of schedule doesn’t leave much time for work or housekeeping or, well, life. So, I have decided that one or two posts a week would be a better option. It will give me time to write. And, it will give you time to miss me. 

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle...

Over the last few months I have undertaken the arduous task of cleaning out my mother's home. I should say my home really because it is the house I grew up in from the age of four and, while I moved out some time ago, there are still some very strong attachments. Like any home, it is filled with memories: Christmas mornings, playing dress up, hugs, Sundays reading the comics, pancake breakfasts, phone calls,  birthdays, family dinners, Irish music, laughter, joy. It's walls also saw tearful fights, sicknesses, sorrow and anger. And every item in that house reminds me of the past. It is exceedingly hard to let go and necessary to do so.

In the course of going through a life, there are some things you find that seem like junk to you and you are tempted to get rid of them. If, however, you are thinking about doing some craft projects, it pays to look at things in a new light. Among the items in our home that I have decided to keep are a 1968 Rand McNally World Atlas, some Reader's Digest Condensed Books from the '60s and '70s and a beat up clip board. Why in the world would anyone want this stuff, you ask? Well, there are quite a few DIY projects that have been percolating in my brain the last month and now I have the tools to make them a reality!

Here's the stuff...

How gorgeous are the colors of these maps?! 

These are for a candle project. 

I can't wait to transform this!

How can you buy or sell the sky?

How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them?...We know that the white man does not understand our ways. One portion of land is the same to him as the next, for he is a stranger who comes in the night and takes from the land whatever he needs. The earth is not his brother, but his enemy, and when he has conquered it, he moves on. He leaves his father's grave behind, and he does not care. He kidnaps the earth from his children, and he does not care. His father's grave, and his children's birthright are forgotten. He treats his mother, the earth, and his brother, the sky, as things to be bought, plundered, sold like sheep or bright beads. His appetite will devour the earth and leave behind only a desert....

You must teach your children that the ground beneath their feet is the ashes of our grandfathers. So that they will respect the land, tell your children that the earth is rich with the lives of our kin. Teach your children that we have taught our children that the earth is our mother. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of earth. If men spit upon the ground, they spit upon themselves.

This we know; the earth does not belong to man; man belongs to the earth. This we know. All things are connected like the blood which unites one family. All things are connected....All things share the same breath - the beast, the tree, the man... the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.

Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but one thread within it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. All things are bound together. All things connect.

Man does not weave this web of life. He is merely a strand of it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.

- Chief Seattle, in response to George Washington

Toffee Brownies

As I've mentioned in the past and will no doubt repeat in the future: I love me some Paula Deen. I love her unapologetic use of butter and the enormous joy she gets (and gives) from food.  So, when I'm feeling the need for comfort, I go to my culinary mama and say, "Mama Paula, what y'all got for me today?" She always answers. 

Now, I love playing in the land of Mama Paula's recipes. I love preparing my mise. I love that her recipes come out perfect every time. I love that they allow me to put my personal stamp on them. I love the down-homey goodness that they exude. But sometimes, I need a quick fix. I want easy, no sweat, instant gratification. Thankfully, Paula's knows how to do that too.

Toffee Brownies

Recipe courtesy Paula Deen, 2007

Prep Time:

8 min

Inactive Prep Time:

--

Cook Time:

25 min

Level:

Easy

Serves:

24 large/48 small brownies

Ingredients

• 1 (17.6-ounce) package brownie mix with walnuts
• Vegetable oil cooking spray
• 3 (6-ounce) candy bars with almonds and toffee chips (recommended: Symphony brand)

Directions

Prepare the brownie mix according to package directions.

Line a 13 by 9-inch cake pan with aluminum foil and spray with vegetable oil cooking spray. Spoon in half of the brownie batter and smooth with a spatula or the back of a spoon. Place the candy bars side by side on top of the batter. Cover with the remaining batter.

Bake according to package directions. Let cool completely, then lift from the pan using the edges of the foil. This makes it easy to cut the brownies into squares.