Matzo Mania

Passover begins tonight. This eight-day holiday means many things to many people: the survival of the Jewish people in the book of Exodus, the overall history of Judaism, and even the last supper of Jesus.

For me, it’s a time to remember my Jewish relatives–particularly my grandparents, whom we always joined for Passover when I was a child.

As a food writer, I appreciate the way the whole holiday is structured around food. Each thing eaten at the Seder has its own meaning. In addition, the practice of eating no bread other than unleavened matzo during Passover commemorates the departure of the Jews from Egypt. Their bread didn’t have time to rise.

It is also a sort of penance. Eating matzo, pretty much the plainest of breads imaginable, reminds Jews of the trials of their forebears.

My grandmother served matzo without much adornment during Passover, occasionally sprucing it up with a little whipped cream cheese for breakfast or lunch.

Despite this tradition, I’m always tickled by the idea of getting a little fancier with matzo.

This year I have made two simple “matzo plus” dishes I’d like to share with you.

The first is Matzo Pizza. I got this idea from the website Kosher.com. Kosher.com’s resident chef, Jamie Geller, created a tasty standard pizza with her matzo—vegetables, cheese, tomato sauce.

I’m not such a fan of tomato-based pizza that I can’t wait eight days to have it. I do love asparagus, however. I’m a sucker for the asparagus pizza served in spring at the Green Emporium in Colrain, Massachusetts.

That pizza inspired this one. Matzo will never replace yeast crusts in my kitchen year round, but during Passover (or when one is in a hurry) it makes an acceptable, crispy platform for cheese and vegetables.

My second recipe today is a treat I’ve enjoyed for years when made by other people, Matzo Crunch. (Beware: many call it Matzo Crack because of its highly addictive properties!)

Marcy Goldman of BetterBaking.com invented this confection, which I have adapted a little. I have seen it covered with nuts (pressed into the chocolate when you sprinkle the optional salt). My friend Lark Fleury even makes it during other times of year with saltine crackers.

Marcy maintains that you can make the crunch with margarine if you keep kosher and want to eat it with meat. I think the butter adds so much flavor that I would advise you NOT to try the margarine. Just don’t eat the crunch with a meat meal!

Whenever and however you make it, I advise you to make sure that you have lots of people to whom you can give the crunch. It really is addictive—and very, very rich. I love to make it—and I love to get it out of the house FAST.

Happy Passover……

Springtime Matzo Pizza

Ingredients:

10 thin asparagus spears, trimmed and cut into 1-1/2-inch pieces
a splash of extra-virgin olive oil
3 basil leaves, torn into pieces
a sprinkle of red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1/2 cup pitted ripe olives, cut into small rings
1/3 cup feta cheese, crumbled
1-1/2 matzos (the whole matzo should be halved for easier serving so that you have three halves)
3/4 cup mozzarella cheese, shredded

Instructions:

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Line a cookie sheet with aluminum foil, and lightly oil the foil.

Sauté the asparagus in the olive oil for 5 minutes. Remove from heat.

Stir in the basil, red pepper flakes, and lemon zest; then toss in the ripe olives and feta.

Place the three halves of matzo on the prepared cookie sheet, making sure that they fit together as well as possible. Sprinkle most of the mozzarella cheese on top of the matzo.

Spread the asparagus mixture over the cheese, and top with a little more mozzarella. Bake for 10 minutes, or until the cheese melts nicely.

Serves 1 for dinner or 2 to 3 for lunch.

Matzo Crunch

Ingredients:

6 pieces matzo, broken into several strips each
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter
1 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1-1/2 cups chocolate chips (semi-sweet, white, or some of each—even milk if you like, and I like)
coarse sea salt for sprinkling (optional but yummy)

Instructions:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Line 2 cookie sheets with aluminum foil, and place parchment paper or silicone mats over the foil. Place the pieces of matzo on top.

In a medium saucepan combine the butter and brown sugar. Bring them to a boil, stirring constantly. Boil for 3 minutes. Remove the mixture from the heat and stir in the vanilla.

Spoon the sugar mixture over the matzo, spreading it with a spatula to cover the matzo as well as you can. Bake for 15 minutes.

Remove the matzo from the oven and sprinkle the chocolate chips on top. After 5 minutes, spread the chocolate with a knife. Sprinkle a little sea salt on top if you wish for additional crunch and flavor.

Allow the crunch to cool; then break it into more pieces. Makes about 40 small pieces. Don’t forget to give most of them away!

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Cooking with Love (Again)

The secret of good cooking is to cook with love—or so my mother taught me when I was a little girl. We should love the creative act of cooking. We should love and respect the ingredients we use. And we should love those for whom we cook.

Most of the time all this love comes naturally to me. If I didn’t find the act of cooking fulfilling, I wouldn’t be a food writer. I enjoy watching different foods ebb and flow in farm stands and grocery stores as the seasons shift. And I get great satisfaction from cooking for, and eating with, my family and friends. Food is part of our communal life.

Last week, however, was NOT my most loving time in the kitchen. We’ve all had so-called bad hair days. I had a bad food week.

It took me a while to realize what the problem was. All I knew was that just about everything I made (including recipes I was testing for publication) turned out somewhere between barely adequate and (shudder!) pretty awful. Usually, the range is from tasty to fabulous.

Friday afternoon I suddenly observed that the joy had gone out of my kitchen. I was viewing cooking as a task instead of a pleasure.

The problem wasn’t with cooking, of course. It was with me. I think my frazzled state might have been induced in part by the time of year. We have more sunshine now than we did in February—and the air is definitely warmer. Nevertheless, spring hasn’t quite hit the ground running yet. And summer seems a long way off.

To tackle the problem I turned off the stove and the computer and made myself a list. (I love lists!) The list was a bit of a hodgepodge because it had a dual purpose: to make me feel better in general and to help me return to work and cooking with a more cheerful and loving heart.

Here is my list. Obviously, this list won’t work for everyone. It might inspire others, however.



1. Take the dog (or the child or the cat or the ferret or whatever you have) for a long walk. Even on rainy days at this time of year one can smell spring in the air! And it’s good to get the body exercising as well as the brain.

2. Do something to cheer up someone else. When I got back from the walk I took my mother for a drive (she’s not in shape yet to go walking with Truffle and me). Making her happy made me happier.

3. Listen to–or better yet make!–some music. It’s the food of love, so it’s bound to help restore the love of food.

4. Buy hair dye. (I told you the list was idiosyncratic.) When I was 26 I suddenly noticed a gray patch in my bangs, a patch that has only gotten larger and more obvious with the passage of time. The woman who cuts my hair may say it’s distinguished to have a highlight in the front of my hairdo as much as she likes. We all know “distinguished” is a code word for “old.”

5. Simplify tasks. I knew I had to return to the kitchen. So I vowed that my next few recipes would be easy ones that took advantage of ingredients I already had in the house or could get very easily. Making cooking easy was the first step toward making it a joyful and loving experience again.

I may not be ready to make a soufflé or a cassoulet at this point, but I’m back to cooking with enthusiasm and making meals that I and others can enjoy. Here is one of the simple recipes that helped me get there.

It’s perfect for this time of year since we’re still in maple month…… Remember, spring is a time of renewal!

Maple Candied Sausage

This three-ingredient appetizer recipe comes from a delightful cookbook titled Fry Bacon. Add Onions: The Valentine Family & Friends Cookbook. A new edition of this book by Kathleen Valentine of Gloucester has just been published by the Parlez-Moi Press.

I enjoy the way Kathleen weaves reminiscences, photos of family and friends, and recipes into an attractive volume that shares her family’s life and many of its loves. She comes of Pennsylvania Dutch stock so the book features many of my favorite sweet-and-sour combinations.

Tammy Hicks of Charlemont, Massachusetts, gave me a similar recipe last year using grape jelly and barbecue sauce. Sweet and saucy, both recipes make excellent finger food (toothpick food, actually) for large parties.

I know there are those of you out there who will find this overly sweet—but kids and old folks love it! Serve it with a little sauerkraut to offset the sugar. (Kathleen’s book offers a number of recipes from which you can choose.)

Ingredients:

1 pound smoked sausage, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1/3 cup brown sugar
2-1/2 tablespoons maple syrup

Instructions:

Brown the sausage pieces lightly in a frying pan. Transfer them to a 1-1/2 quart saucepan, and stir in the brown sugar and maple syrup. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, stirring constantly; then reduce the heat and simmer, covered, for 1 hour, stirring from time to time. Serves 8 as an appetizer.

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Stars in My Eyes

Ada Lovelace in 1838

Today is Ada Lovelace Day.

Organized by Suw Charman-Anderson, a British writer and social-software consultant, the day pays tribute to women in technology and science.

It is named after Augusta Ada King, the Countess of Lovelace (1815-1852), who is credited with writing the first computer programs. She created them for the Analytical Engine, an early computer prototype thought up (but never actually built) by Charles Babbage.

Suw has gathered bloggers from all over the world to write today about their heroines in science and technology.

I minored in astronomy at Mount Holyoke College. My original concept for Ada Lovelace Day was to interview a young astronomy student at the college. (Mount Holyoke is a women’s college so she would certainly have been female.) I wanted to ask her about her attitude toward astronomy and her career aspirations.

A few days ago I got in touch with Darby Dyar, the chair of Mount Holyoke’s astronomy department. Darby informed me that the college’s spring break was underway. Alas, no students were available for an interview. (Next year, I’ll obviously have to get organized for Ada Lovelace Day a little earlier!)

Instead of abandoning Suw and her cohorts, I thought I’d write briefly about my own reasons for studying astronomy during my time at Mount Holyoke in an attempt to honor female astronomers everywhere.

Part of my love for astronomy stemmed from the sense of history I felt working in the Williston Observatory. Built in 1881, it is the oldest academic building in use on the Mount Holyoke campus.

This homey wooden structure welcomed my mother and my grandmother and generations of other young women who studied at Mount Holyoke. All of them—all of us—used the observatory’s original Alvan Clark Refractor telescope, although it has since been joined by newer telescopes.

My love of astronomy goes beyond my affection for that building, however. I firmly believe that everyone should study astronomy. It’s the perfect liberal-arts subject.

At its grandest—in its subfield of cosmology—astronomy is literally the study of EVERYTHING. It attempts to answer the deepest philosophical as well as scientific questions that confront humans. Where did we and our world come from? What motivates us (that is, what are the basic forces of nature)?

At its smallest—in its subfield of quantum mechanics—it asks what we are made of and how we can predict the future.

Astronomy and its sister field of physics answer both small and large questions in people’s daily lives. They help us lift groceries and steer our cars through curves. They also help us fly the Space Shuttle and design computers such as the one on which I’m typing this essay.

In addition to touching on other branches of science and history, astrophysics has had a huge influence on many other academic fields. It’s hard to picture humanism without the principles and work of Darwin, modernist literature and art without relativity, or postmodernism without quantum mechanics.

On a less academic and more personal scale, I find the night sky both challenging and reassuring. In some ways, the stars daunt us humans. They present evidence of a huge impersonal universe that doesn’t care about us.

Celestial bodies are also our friends, however.

I amuse myself looking at the constellations and thinking about the ancient souls who traced their shapes and named them. I enjoy knowing that the position of the stars can tell me where I am on the globe.

And the moon—well, to me she’s like a beautiful cousin. Her moods come and go, but she’s a constant in my life, whether I’m in Hawley, Massachusetts, or Paris, France.

I hope you’ll take a few minutes this evening to look at my cousin (she’s just beyond the quarter moon phase right now, on her way to the full moon that will bring us Passover and Easter) and her stellar companions.

Think of young women (and men) exploring the past and future of our universe—and of Ada Lovelace and all her sisters in scientific endeavor.

For a list of blog posts participating in Ada Lovelace Day, visit its official site. And for a delightful set of historical postcards of Mount Holyoke’s Williston Observatory put together by an alumna, please visit this online photo gallery.

The Williston Observatory in Earlier Days (it's bigger now!)

Galaxy Clusters

It took me a while to come up with an appropriate recipe to publish with this post. Darby Dyar informed me that today’s students at Mount Holyoke enjoy “Edible Comets” at astronomy functions. She sent me the link to a recipe for the comets, which, as the recipe notes, “taste suspiciously like ice cream.”

The comets are a cool idea in both senses of the world. Unfortunately, the recipe calls for liquid nitrogen, which I don’t have in the house.

I ALMOST made raisin bread, which my Mount Holyoke professor Tom Dennis cited in Astronomy 101 to help students understand the expanding universe. He suggested that our situation here in the Milky Way galaxy is comparable to that that of a raisin in a rising loaf of raisin bread.

It looks as though all the other raisins (the rest of the universe) are receding from us, and we get the feeling that we’re in the middle of the loaf. We aren’t necessarily, however.

I love the raisin bread analogy because I adore food analogies—and because it brings up a major question of science and indeed of humanity: Who, if anyone, is baking this loaf of bread?

I just posted a bread recipe a couple of days ago, however, so I decided to save the raisin bread for next year’s celebration of Ada Lovelace Day.

Today I am instead delighting my nephew Michael by making cookies that include Milky Way® candy bars.. Ada Lovelace sounds like a smart cookie so these treats seem appropriate for her as well as for the topic of astronomy.

The folks at Mars USA insist that the original 1923 candy bar was named after a popular malted milk shake and not after our home galaxy. Nevertheless, I’m pretty sure the shake must have been named after the galaxy so I feel comfortable using the candy in this post.

The internet is rife with Milky Way® cookie recipes. Most of them use a peanut-butter base. I wanted to let the subtle flavor of the candy shine, however, so I combined the bars with standard chocolate-chip-cookie dough. I tried cutting the candy up into tiny pieces and mixing it directly into the dough, but my family preferred the method below, in which the candy is completely surrounded by cookie.

The resulting cookies were—naturally!—out of this world………

Ingredients:

1 cup (2 sticks) sweet butter at room temperature
3/4 cup sugar
3/4 cup brown sugar, firmly packed
2 eggs
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons vanilla
2-1/4 cups flour (I used King Arthur white whole wheat flour to counteract some of the sinfulness of the candy bars, but of course you may also use all-purpose flour or a combination of the two!)
1 bag (11.24 ounces) fun-size Milky Way® candy bars (18 small bars), cut in half

Instructions:

The day before you want to eat the cookies cream together the sugar and butters. Beat in the eggs, 1 at a time, mixing well after each addition. Beat in the salt, soda, and vanilla; then gently stir in the flour until it is completely incorporated.

Chill the dough for 24 hours. (You may chill it for less time, but it will cooperate better if you leave it for 24 hours.)

When you are ready to bake the cookies preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Line cookie sheets with parchment paper or silicone mats.

Form the dough into 36 balls, each a little over 1 inch in diameter. Flatten each ball; then place a half candy bar in the center. Wrap the cookie dough around the candy bar so that it forms a ball again, completely covering the candy.

Place the balls on the cookie sheets, being careful to make sure there is dough (not cookie) under the surface of each ball.

Bake the cookies until they are golden brown (about 15 minutes). In some of them you may still see the outline of the candy bar; this phenomenon didn’t bother my family at all.

Let the cookies cool on the sheets for just a minute or so. As soon as you can lift them without causing them to fall apart, remove them to wire racks to cool. If they cool much on the cookie sheets, they will be difficult to remove from the parchment or silicone.

Allow the cookies to cool before you eat them. Makes 36 clusters.

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"No-Knead Bread" Is a Terrible Name!

I’ve never been particularly trendy as a cook or as a person. Perhaps this is why it has taken me longer than most to jump on the “no-knead bread” bandwagon.

Many home and professional cooks ran out and made a loaf shortly after reading Mark Bittman’s ground-breaking column in The New York Times in November 2006. I have heard stories (probably apocryphal but fun nevertheless) that grocery stores ran out of rapid-rising yeast, an ingredient called for in Bittman’s formula, that day.

The recipe Bittman used came from Jim Lahey of Manhattan’s Sullivan Street Bakery. Lahey has since published My Bread: The Revolutionary No-Work, No-Knead Method.

From 2006 until 2010 I was unmoved by all this brouhaha. “So what if it doesn’t require kneading,” I thought. I don’t mind kneading bread. It’s a simple, enjoyable task that doesn’t take very long. When I’ve been writing for several hours I love the physical break kneading provides.
Two people changed my mind. One was my young friend Erin Cosby, who called this bread “the best around.” The other is my sister food blogger Abigail Blake of Sugar Apple, who wrote that her no-knead loaf was “as close to Parisian bread as [she was] going to get in the Caribbean.”

(Abigail lives on the island of Tortola in the British Virgin Islands, lucky girl that she is. I try to remind myself that she doesn’t get gorgeous foliage color in the fall, but it’s hard not to envy her a little in mud season!)

So I tried the bread. It was amazing. Note to Mark Bittman and Jim Lahey: “No-Knead Bread” is a misleading name. It should be called AWESOME Bread. Or Parisian Bread. Or Artisan Bread. Or anything that emphasizes the product rather than the process.

The bread works because it combines just a little bit of yeast and a LOT of water with the basic flour/salt mixture. It then lets them rise together for a really long time. The process concludes by baking the bread in a preheated pot in a really hot oven, which almost replicates a brick oven.
The bread emerges with a gorgeous, crispy crust and a porous texture. It shouts, “I was made in a special way!”

I’ve tried a few variations. Bittman later proposed making bread almost as good by using more yeast and letting the bread sit for less time. (You’ll note that his original recipe takes about a day.) I encourage you to try this method.

For my most recent loaf I added some nice salty Greek olives to the mixture. This is the version for which I share the recipe.

If you don’t want to use the olives, decrease the yeast to 1/3 teaspoon (1/4 teaspoon if you’re using instant yeast) and increase the salt to 1-1/2 teaspoons. (To tell you the truth, if you ARE using the olives you may omit the salt altogether; Greek olives are salty! But I love salt.)

The biggest trick to making this bread may be selecting the pan. You need a heavy pan with a volume of 4-1/2 t 5 quarts that can withstand a 450-degree oven.

Erin tells me she uses a large covered Pyrex pan. I use my mother’s old Le Creuset Dutch oven, which doesn’t have a plastic lid-grabber. (Its grabber is made of the same enameled cast iron as the rest of the pan.)

If your pot has a plastic lid-grabber, I am told that you may unscrew it and put foil in its place. (Opening the pot may be harder in this case.) Amazon.com sells Lahey's book along with a 5-quart Lodge cast-iron Dutch oven that looks useful (and a lot less costly than my beloved Le Creuset).

One more variation: If you want to use instant or rapid-rise yeast, the water should be lukewarm instead of hot as mine was for regular yeast.

Happy baking—and eating.

Super Duper Olive Bread

Ingredients:

3 cups bread flour
1/2 teaspoon salt (optional)
3/4 teaspoon active dry yeast
3/4 cup Greek olives, drained of all brine and chopped in half vertically
1-1/2 cups hot but not boiling water

Instructions:

The day before you want to eat your bread, combine the flour, salt, and yeast in a bowl large enough to hold more than 2 quarts of dough. Stir in the olives, followed by the water. Mix with a wooden spoon until it the dough is combined (it will be messy!), about 30 seconds.

Cover the bowl loosely and let it sit in a warm place until the dough doubles in size and bubbles form on the surface, 12 to 18 hours. Do not put the dough on a radiator (I speak from experience) as it will dry out.

Generously dust a board with flour, and using 2 wet spatulas dump the dough onto the board. Lift the edges of the dough with the spatulas into the center and nudge it into the shape of a ball.

Nudging the Bread

Dust a linen dishtowel with flour, and use the spatulas to pop the dough onto it, seam side down. If the dough is sticky (it always is, in my experience), dust the top with flour or cornmeal. Fold the ends of the dishtowel around the dough so that it is loosely covered. Allow it to rise in a warm spot for 2 hours, or until it holds the hole when you poke your finger into it.

About 1/2 hour before the second rising is complete, preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Place a covered 4-1/2- to 5-quart pot on a rack in the lower third of the oven and allow it to preheat along with the oven.

When the half hour is complete, use heavy pot holders to remove the pot from the oven and uncover it. Gently but quickly slide the bread dough into the pot, shaking the pot a little to distribute it in its ball.

Cover the pot and replace it in the oven. Bake for 30 minutes; then uncover the pot and bake for 15 to 30 minutes more, until the bread is a gorgeous brown color. Carefully remove the pot once more and use pot holders or a heat-proof spatula to remove the bread from it. Allow it to cool on a rack.

Makes 1 gorgeous, aromatic loaf.

Here is the bread without olives (but with more salt and less yeast), also fabulous.

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From Coonskin Cap to Barrel of Wine: Remembering Fess Parker

(Los Angeles Times)

Fess Parker died yesterday at the age of 85. As a memorial tribute, I thought I’d share this article I wrote for the Boston Globe in 1995 about the former actor’s winery. (I’m a firm believer in recycling!)

I haven’t tried the recipe, which came from Parker’s wife Marcella. I think I’ll make it later this week in his memory, however.

After the article came out Parker sent me a couple of bottles of wine. Better yet, he included a black-and-white beefcake poster of himself in his heyday lounging in a bathtub as Davy Crockett.

Unfortunately, my cat Lorelei Lee destroyed the poster by licking it. I guess the handsome Parker was catnip to females of all sorts.

Reading the interview today, I’m impressed with what a convincing actor he was even as a businessman—the presentation of his business as natural, the aw-shucks modesty of his comments about Walt Disney (with whom he had serious disagreements because Disney controlled his contract), the general aura of Americana in which he cloaked himself.

And I recall the charm that moved easily along 3000 miles of telephone lines……

Fess Parker in 1995 (Los Angeles Times)

I’LL FESS UP…. I’ve got a crush on a California vintner who is old enough to be my father, married, and my political opposite.

Fess Parker, who’s in his late 60s, looks darn good. He occasionally dons a coonskin cap like the ones he inspired millions of children to buy when he played television’s Davy Crockett (1954-1955) and Daniel Boone (1964-1970). And his voice retains the Southwestern twang that laced those portrayals with sincerity.

He still waxes homespun like Boone or Crockett. The first thing I said to him was that I knew absolutely nothing about wine. My hero replied, “You know what, Tinky, I love that, because 90 percent of our brothers and sisters in this great nation do not know anything about it, and so your questions will be right on the mark.”

Despite the corniness of the line my cynical heart went pitter-patter.

Parker now serves as spokesman for the Fess Parker Winery and Vineyard in the Santa Ynes Valley in Santa Barbara, California. The winery’s first vintage appeared in 1992, and its products have attracted favorable reviews in wine periodicals. Bottles of Fess Parker chardonnay, Riesling, pinot noir, merlot, and syrah—with tiny coonskin caps on their labels—are now available in the Boston area.

Parker is proud of the fact that his is a family enterprise. His son Eli manages the vineyard and serves as winemaker. His daughter Ashley supervises tastings and organizes a popular Fess Parker wine club. And his wife Marcy helps him operate the winery and creates recipes to accompany different wines.

In fact, Parker credits his food-oriented wife with inspiring his interest in wine through an early investment in good French vintages in the 1960s. “We had quite a large wine cellar in our home,” he recalls. “And so she put an awful lot of that wine away. I complained, actually. I said, ‘You’re spending too much.’ I didn’t know that I was going to enjoy fine wine for the next 15 years or so. And so that sort of whetted my taste.”

The Parker spread runs to 714 acres. “In Texas, where I’m from, we’d call that a horse pasture,” laughs Parker. “But here in Southern California to have that many acres and most of them level is quite unique.” He expects to produce about 20,000 cases of wine this year.

Parker’s main job nowadays is selling his wine. He makes numerous public appearances, often wearing his signature fur cap. He would be the first to admit that the coonskins on his head and his label are a marketing ploy, confessing that “the fact that there’s continuing interest in an event that took place 40 years ago is very helpful.”

(Fess Parker Winery)

Nevertheless, at a certain level the politically conservative Parker seems to feel a genuine identification with the pre-industrial heroes he portrayed in film and on television. “I grew up on a farm and ranch part of my life—every summer from the time I was 6 until I was 16, in Texas,” he explains. “You know, we’re not all that far from the agricultural nation that we were.

“When my son and I started the winery in 1989, he didn’t have a clue about farming. But when we started to put the vineyards in, he got right into it. He climbed on the tractor, and he took to farming like he was born to it.”

Parker wears coonskin partly in homage to Walt Disney, who chose the then unknown actor to portray Crockett on Disney’s pioneering television show Disneyland.

“In certain respects,” say Parker, “I would say I was very similar to Mickey Mouse. The difference was, he drew Mickey Mouse. But he personally selected me for Davy Crockett on a hunch. It takes a lot of courage to go with someone who essentially is unknown. A lot of people wouldn’t have given me the opportunity.”

Since his film and TV heyday in the 1950s and 1960s, Parker has continued to take advantage of opportunities offered him. He has parlayed his money, intelligence, and undeniable charm first into a real-estate career; then into ownership of a resort hotel in Santa Barbara (a second waterfront hotel is in the works); and now into the wine business, which he relishes.

“I’m having a great time,” he reports. “I don’t know what my next career is going to be, but for now this one is a dandy.”

Parker, whom I interviewed over the telephone, told me he’d just LOVE to meet me in person. He didn’t offer me a plane ticket, however, so for the moment I’ll content myself with trying his wine—accompanied by one of his wife’s recipes.

Marcy Parker’s Onion Tart

The Parkers use this savory pie as a main dish for a luncheon or a side dish for dinner. It is to be accompanied by the vineyard’s Riesling.

For the filling:

Ingredients:

1 tablespoon unsalted butter
2 teaspoons sugar
9 to 11 sweet (Maui or Vidalia) onions (about 2-1/2 pounds), peeled
1/2 cup Johannesburg Riesling (or other white wine)
1 leek, white part only
1 tablespoon thyme, fresh or dried (more for garnish)
salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
1-1/2 cups chicken stock (homemade or low-salt canned)
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

Instructions:

Melt the butter in a heavy 10-inch nonstick ovenproof skillet. Sprinkle with sugar and remove from heat. Cut six of the onions in half, fit them snugly into the pan, cut side down, and pour the wine over them. Use more onions if necessary to cover the bottom of the pan.

Cut the leek to the same thickness as the onion, and fit the slices into the spaces in the pan. Sprinkle with half of the thyme, the salt, and the pepper.

Slice the remaining onions 1/4 inch thick and arrange them over the onion mixture in the skillet. Sprinkle with the balance of the thyme, salt, and pepper. Cook over medium-high heat for 5 minutes.

Reduce the heat to medium, and cook for another 5 minutes, until golden brown. Shake the pan from time to time. Pour the stock and vinegar over the onions and bring the mixture to a simmer. Cover and cook for 20 to 25 minutes over low heat until tender. Remove the lid and raise the heat; cook until the liquid is syrupy and almost completely reduced. Remove from heat and cool in pan. The mixture will hold together.

For the pastry:

Ingredients:

1-1/2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup (1 stick) cold, unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
1 tablespoon thyme, fresh or dried
1 small shallot, peeled and minced
3 tablespoons ice water

Instructions:

Blend the flour, salt, and butter in a food processor until the mixture resembles coarse meal. Add the thyme and shallot. Process, adding water, until the dough just holds together.

Form the dough into a flat disc; wrap and chill until firm, 30 minutes or more.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Roll out the pastry 3/8 inch thick, making sure it is slightly wider in diameter than the skillet in which the onions were cooked.

Place the rolled pastry on top of the mixture in the skillet and tuck any excess dough into the pan.

Transfer the skillet to the preheated oven, and bake for 30 to 35 minutes, until golden brown and bubbly. Take the pan out of the oven, cool it for 10 minutes, and invert onto a serving plate. Garnish with more thyme. Serve with a salad and steamed, chilled asparagus.

Serves 6 as a side dish, 4 as an entrée.


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Irish Beef Stew

Top o’ the mornin’!

I know I published a recipe for beef stew EXTREMELY RECENTLY. We’ve been enjoying (if that’s the word) stew weather in the northeast a lot lately, however, so I’m posting another beef concoction for Saint Patrick’s Day.

The Irish stout in the recipe lends the dish a smoothness and a sweetness that suit this sentimental holiday.

My mother and I ate the stew three times for supper. We then chopped the beef and vegetables a bit more finely, added some beef stock and canned tomatoes, and enjoyed vegetable beef soup for a couple of additional meals.

As you smell the stew simmering on your stove you’ll find yourself singing “Danny Boy” (or maybe “Tinky Girl”).

Be sure to buy a little extra stout to sip on the side.

Next year, I hope to brine my own brisket for corned beef and cabbage. In the meantime, I highly recommend this recipe from the talented Michael Ruhlman.

Happy Saint Patrick’s Day to you all………

Ingredients:

extra-virgin olive oil as needed
2 bay leaves
1-1/2 pounds stew beef, cut into small pieces and dried with paper towels
1 large onion, thinly sliced
4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
2 tablespoons flour
1 cup Irish stout
4 cups beef stock
several sprigs fresh thyme (or 1 generous teaspoon dried)
several sprigs fresh rosemary (or 1 generous teaspoon dried)
salt and pepper to taste
6 carrots, cut into chunks
1 pound fingerling potatoes plus a few more for good luck
1 teaspoon cornstarch (optional)
chopped parsley as desired for garnish

Instructions:

In a Dutch oven warm a small amount of oil. Throw in the bay leaves and let them flavor the oil for a moment or two. Add the pieces of beef and cook them, stirring frequently, until they brown.

Remove and reserve the beef and bay leaves, and sauté the onion and garlic pieces for a few minutes. Toss the flour onto them and cook for another minute or two. Add the stout a bit at a time to absorb any gunk on the bottom of the pan; then stir in the stock, herbs, salt, and pepper.

Add the meat and vegetables and bring the liquid to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer the stew over low heat, stirring occasionally, for 2 hours. Your pot should be ALMOST covered. (If it looks as though it is losing too much of the liquid, cover it.)

If you would like your gravy a little thicker, just before serving take a bit of juice out of the pot and whisk in the cornstarch. Return the cornstarch mixture to the pot, bring the stew back to a boil, and boil for at least a minute. Sprinkle the parsley over the stew, and dish it up.

Serves 4 to 6.

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Blarney Scones

I can’t imagine Saint Patrick’s Day without Irish soda bread. I start baking it around March 1—about the same time the lit-up shamrock goes up on the side of the house–so my family can get into the holiday spirit at breakfast each day.

This year we’re eating a slightly healthier version than my usual soda bread, the recipe for which I published last year.

I have always made soda bread with white flour, but my neighbor Mary Stuart Cosby urged me to try a brown version, and now I’m hooked. She suggested this recipe, which is adapted from King Arthur Flour.

KAF suggests using its Irish-style wholemeal flour, a coarsely ground flour that sounds a bit like old-fashioned American Graham flour. I don’t have any (next year I’ll order some in advance!) so I’ve been using KAF’s white whole-wheat flour. The whole-wheat flour gives the bread a lovely nutty flavor.

Of course, the bread would be even healthier if we could resist slathering Kerrygold butter all over it! So far we haven’t been able to make ourselves pursue health to that degree, however.

By the way, I must admit that I didn’t make up the name “Blarney Scone.” That honor goes to one of my favorite grocery stores, Trader Joe’s, which is selling small rounds of soda bread under that name this month.

Brown Soda Bread

Ingredients:

2-1/2 cups whole-wheat flour
1-1/4 cups bread flour
1/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) sweet butter, cut into small pieces
1 cup raisins (Mary Stuart suggested cutting them in half to distribute them better; I got lazy and didn't do this, but I think it's a good idea)
1-1/3 cups buttermilk
1 egg

Instructions:

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper or a silicone mat.

In a bowl combine the flours, the sugar, the baking soda, and the salt. Cut in the butter; then stir in the raisins.

In a separate bowl or measuring cup whisk together the buttermilk and the egg. Stir this mixture into the flour just until combined.

Divide the dough into two clumps (they will be a little sticky) and knead each one briefly on a lightly floured board until they hold together as balls. Place them on the prepared sheet.

Break the bread for 15 minutes; then reduce the heat to 375 and bake for an additional 20 to 25 minutes, until it is golden brown. Makes 2 small loaves.

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Irish Cheese Fondue

I told my friend Peter I was working on recipes for Saint Patrick’s Day—and as usual he came up with a wonderful idea!

He said he had been surveying the variety of Irish cheeses on the shelves in his local grocery store and suggested that I create an Irish cheese fondue.

I picked up some Irish cheddar and threw in some stout. My guests swooned–with the possible exception of my mother, who is not completely convinced that melted cheese constitutes dinner.

If you don’t have access to Irish cheddar, you may use a domestic variety, but the Irish cheddar does have a different flavor. It’s slightly sweeter, I think, and yet a little tangy as well.

Marilyn stirs the fondue.

Ingredients:

2 to 3 cloves garlic, slightly crushed
1 pound Irish cheddar cheese, shredded
2 tablespoons flour
1 cup Irish stout
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
a few sprinkles of Worcestershire sauce
1 medium baguette, cut into bite-sized pieces
2 apples, cut into bite-sized pieces

Instructions:

Rub the inside of a fondue pot with the garlic; then discard the cloves.

In a bowl toss together the cheese and the flour.

Bring the stout, mustard, and Worcestershire sauce to a boil in the fondue pot. Reduce the heat and stir in the cheese/flour mixture. Continue to stir until the cheese has melted. Don’t be concerned if your fondue is brown: it’s supposed to be!

Dip the bread and apple pieces into your fondue. Yum! Serves 4.

Kay samples the fondue.

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Sue’s Swedish Brown Cookies

Sue Haas in her Kitchen

Here is the fourth installment in my Twelve Cookies of Christmas series. These brown cookies (they derive their color from caramelization of the sugar) will banish your March blahs.

The recipe comes from Sue Haas in Seattle, Washington, a regular reader of this blog and the dear sister of my dear minister, Cara Hochhalter. Sue writes children’s books when she isn’t working on art sales and appraisals. She says the recipe originated with her friend Marilynn Pray.

Sue and her daughter Alysa are busy planting a garden together. (I AM SO JEALOUS! We still have snow in the northeast!) Alysa writes about gardening and cooking on her own blog, Grass-Fed Goat.

The photos on this post come courtesy of Sue and Alysa, although I did test the recipe. (I felt it was my sacred duty.) The cookies taste of butter and honey: what could be better? Next time I may try them with maple syrup instead of the honey. After all, March is Maple Month!

Sue uses C&H Baker’s Sugar for the “fine baking sugar” (a.k.a. superfine sugar) called for in the recipe. I was in a hurry and didn’t have time to go to the store for superfine sugar so I put regular sugar in my blender and pulsed. It needed a little sorting through (the pulsing left a few clumps), but after the sorting it was an acceptable substitute.

Enjoy the cookies. I hope you’re thinking about your own garden….


The Cookies

Ingredients:

1/2 cup (1 stick) sweet butter at room temperature
1/2 cup fine baking sugar
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup flour
3 teaspoons honey (plus a small amount more if needed)

Instructions:

Preheat the oven to 300 degrees. Line a large cookie sheet with parchment paper or a silicone baking mat. Cream together the butter and sugar; then beat in the baking soda. (Sue actually whisks the soda into the flour, but I added it by itself.) Add the flour and continue to mix lightly until combined.

Drizzle the honey into the flour and sugar/butter mixture and stir. The dough will stick together a bit better with the honey added. You may need to add a little more honey to make the dough hold together. Form the dough into a large “softball” shape with your hands. Divide it into two pieces.

Roll and pat one of the pieces of dough onto the parchment on one long side of the pan into a long, flattened 12-inch “snake,” smushing the dough with your fingers so that it forms an even flat piece, about 2 to 3 inches wide and about 12 inches long.

Do the same with the second piece of dough placed several inches apart on the same sheet from the first piece. You will have two long, flat shapes of dough on one cookie sheet.


Bake the snakes until the dough is golden brown. (Sue estimated this at 15 to 20 minutes; it took a little longer in my oven.)

Check the dough after about 12 minutes. Take the cookies out earlier, or when they are only light brown, if you want a softer cookie. (I liked them crisp.)

Remove the cookie sheet from the oven. Let it cool for only 2 to 3 minutes. While the dough is still warm cut a long line down the center of each snake-shaped piece. Then cut each “snake” diagonally at about one-inch intervals to make 3-inch long cookie strips.


If you’d rather make really long diagonal strips (about 5- to 6-inch-long cookie strips), omit making the vertical cut down the center of each snake. That would reduce the total number of finished cookies by half. OR cut each 3-inch cookie strip in half to make tiny 1-1/2-inch-long bite-size pieces to feed a big crowd.

“Light, buttery, and delicious,” says Sue of her cookies. Makes 20 to 40 cookies, depending on how you cut them.

Alysa and Sue

Cannellini Bean and Tomato Soup

Denise DiPaolo always wanted to run a business of her own that combined food and people. She waited a number of years and worked her way through a variety of jobs (including stints as a community organizer and an educator) before she finally opened the doors of the Ristorante DiPaolo in Turner’s Falls, Massachusetts.

Asked why she finally decided on an Italian restaurant, she said, “It represents who I am … It’s family. It’s the passion, the comfort, the drama, the challenge, and the fun all wrapped in one!”

The restaurant opened in March 2006 as a partnership between Denise and Chef Hilton Dottin.

Born in the Dominican Republic, Hilton went to restaurant school in New York and became an American citizen. He and Denise planned a menu that would draw on all regions of Italy, spiced up a little by Hilton Dottin’s Caribbean roots. Within a year the restaurant became a destination for food lovers in western Massachusetts.

On a fall afternoon I joined Hilton in the restaurant’s compact but well laid out kitchen to watch him prepare one of his specialties, cannellini bean soup. The soup as he prepares it takes a while to make, but it’s a substantial dish that warms the kitchen and creates mouth-watering odors.

On the day on which I visited, the chef happened to have a small winter squash on hand so he cooked its pulp in the bean water and pulverized it in a blender with a little broth after it softened, adding it eventually to the final product. He also added a few extra pieces of Prosciutto and uncooked bacon to the pancetta in the recipe for extra flavor.

He explained that he often varies a recipe, which he views as a guide. “When I follow a recipe in a book, I usually make it the way the book says, and then I add to it the next time,” he noted.

Watching Hilton chop, stir, and taste was inspiring. He stressed getting the freshest ingredients possible and looking for organic produce whenever possible.

Nevertheless, he admitted that economy and availability of foods force him to be practical in his shopping. If dried cannellini beans for this soup are hard to find, for example, he suggested substituting white navy beans.

Hilton didn’t need much help from me in the kitchen. I skinned a few tomatoes for him, but he managed to peel more than 20 in the time it took me to do three. I received some of the rewards of participation in the cooking process, however.

When I got home, my family told me that the soup “perfume” I had acquired in the kitchen of the restaurant was tantalizing—a mixture of garlic, vegetables, pancetta, and love. I also left with a little care package of the soup, which was everything soup should be. It tasted warm and hearty, complex yet perfectly blended. Best of all, Hilton shared his recipe with me.

We’re not in fall anymore, of course, so when I made it recently I used canned tomatoes. (Sorry, Hilton!) I also used canned beans because we had them in the house. I’m giving you the recipe as I prepared it because it was quick (no soaking of beans overnight) and ALMOST as tasty as the original version. If you want that one, do visit the Ristorante DiPaolo.

Buon appetito!

Hilton Dottin and Denise DiPaolo (Courtesy of the Ristorante DiPaolo)

Cannellini Bean and Tomato Soup

Ingredients:

2 cups canned tomatoes, drained but with the liquid reserved
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil plus a little more for drizzling over the tomatoes
salt and pepper to taste
4 ounces pancetta, diced
2 teaspoons cumin seeds
1 tablespoon fresh oregano (or 1 teaspoon dried)
1 onion, diced
1 large garlic clove, minced
1 celery stalk, diced
1 large carrot, peeled and diced
1 can (14.5 ounces) cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
5 cups chicken stock

Instructions:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Drizzle the tomatoes with a little olive oil, and sprinkle them lightly with salt and pepper. Roast them until they smell good—about 20 minutes.

In a 4-quart Dutch oven sauté the pancetta in the olive oil over medium heat for 5 minutes. Stir constantly.

Add the cumin, oregano, onion, garlic, celery, and carrot. Sauté until the onion pieces become translucent, 5 to 10 minutes.

Add the roasted tomatoes and continue to sauté for 3 more minutes.

Add the beans and the chicken stock. Bring the soup to a boil. When it boils reduce the heat, cover the soup ALMOST completely, and simmer it for 20 minutes.

Serves 6.

In a Stew about the Oscars

The Oscars are coming!

Abuse them as much as you like. I know all the arguments against Hollywood’s annual tribute to itself. The televised show is long and boring and still manages to leave out many important categories. The statuettes are awarded to middlebrow fare. The whole shebang revolves around money rather than quality.

I don’t care. Oscar Night is a highlight of my year.

Years ago I hosted annual Academy-Award parties. My guests and I ate movie-themed food and watched the awards knowing that most of us had seen many of the nominated films—certainly the majority of the best-picture nominees.

My life is now more complicated, and I don’t get out to the movies as I used to. This year, alas, I have not seen A SINGLE FILM on the best-picture roster, despite the increased odds now that the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has expanded the number of nominees from five to ten.

I no longer stay in one place long enough to give a huge Oscar party so I don’t plan a huge Oscar menu.

Nevertheless, on Sunday evening I have to make and eat at least one dish that pays tribute to a film from 2009. Oprah and Barbara are busy getting ready for their star-studded televised Oscar Specials. My own production will be a more modest Blue-Plate Special.

It hasn’t been hard to select a film to honor. Like every other food lover in the United States last year I saw Julie & Julia.

I found the original book Julie & Julia fun but not scintillating. The film adaptation captured my heart, however.

In the book, blogger-turned-author Julie Powell described the “Julie & Julia Project,” in which she spent a year making every recipe in Julia Child’s groundbreaking work Mastering the Art of French Cooking.

To augment her own adventures Powell recreated bits of Child’s biography, bits that didn’t have the sincerity or humor that she projected into her descriptions of her own life and cooking.

In the film, writer/director Nora Ephron had more resources on which to draw. She used Child’s account of her life; her own experiences (a former food writer, Ephron knows the lure of a full plate); and cinematic tools such as set design, costumes, and music. (One doesn’t get to hear both Doris Day and Charles Aznavour on very many soundtracks!)

Above all, Ephron took advantage of a magical cast, headed by Meryl Streep as Julia Child and Stanley Tucci as her supportive husband Paul. The two emerged as the Greer Garson and Walter Pidgeon of 2009, a seemingly natural and ideal cinematic couple.

Meryl Streep is cooking with gas as Julia Child. (Courtesy of Sony Pictures)

Julie & Julia the book is a collaboration of two partners, one of them dead and trapped in a book. Julie & Julia the movie is a collaboration of hundreds of creative partners. It invites the audience into that partnership as well, encouraging us to believe that cooking and love can help a woman of any age fulfill her dreams.

Fans of the book OR the movie who live in western Massachusetts may want to attend some of the Julie/Julia events in local libraries between now and March 20. These include book discussions, cooking demonstrations, and Julia Child impersonations! For details on the innovative "Tale for Ten Towns" project, visit its web site.

Those of you planning to watch the Oscars Sunday evening may also want to join me in making a Julia-themed dish. Here is a recipe I always associate with Julia Child, Beef Burgundy—or, as she would say in her indelibly American accent, “Boeuf Bourguignon.“

Because I am neither Julie nor Julia I don’t actually make this dish the way they would. I appreciate Child’s contributions to American cooking and treasure both volumes of Mastering the Art of French Cooking.

Nevertheless, I am a simple cook. I see those volumes as reference books rather than cookbooks. The only dish I ever make straight out of them is Child’s version of scrambled eggs. Even then I cut down on the butter.

I do use one of Child’s tricks to good effect in this recipe, however, and that is saving the little onions and the mushrooms until the last minute so they don’t stew down so much that they are invisible.

My version is simple to make and perfect for a cozy evening spent in front of the television set watching film personalities emote and cavort. I offer it in homage to a great cook and an enjoyable film.

Bon appétit!

Not Julia’s (or even Julie’s) Beef Burgundy

Ingredients:

1-1/2 pounds stew beef, cut into bite-size pieces
2 cloves of garlic, 1 crushed and 1 minced
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon salt
several turns of the pepper mill
2 tablespoons flour, divided
1 small onion, finely cut
1-1/2 cups red wine (plus a little more if needed)
1 cup water (plus a little more if needed)
several sprigs of thyme
1 bay leaf
2 carrots, cut into bite-size pieces
a small amount of butter for sautéing
1 cup tiny onions with their ends cut off
10 ounces mushrooms, sliced (the slices should be fairly thick—no more than four per mushroom)
chopped parsley for garnish

Instructions:

Preheat the oven to 500 degrees. When it has heated toss the meat, the crushed garlic clove, the oil, and the salt and pepper together in a sturdy, uncovered Dutch oven.

Place the pot in the hot oven until the meat browns (this takes between 10 and 15 minutes). While the meat is in the oven be sure to stir it every few minutes to ensure even browning. When most of us it has browned stir in 1 tablespoon of flour and let it continue to brown.

When the meat is brown carefully remove the pot from the oven and turn the oven off. Use a slotted spoon to take out the garlic clove (which you may discard) and the meat, which you should reserve.

Add the onion and garlic pieces to the gravy in the pot, and sauté them for a couple of minutes.

Whisk in the remaining flour for a minute or two; then deglaze the pan with a little of the wine. Add in the remaining wine and the water; then stir in the thyme and bay leaf, the carrots, and the reserved meat.

Bring the stew to a boil; then cover and reduce the heat. Cook the mixture until the beef can be pierced by a fork (about 2 hours). Check and stir it every half hour, but make sure you cover it completely after checking (you don’t want it to dry out!).

If you have time after the beef has cooked, allow the stew to cool to room temperature and then chill it. You will then be able to skim off much of the fat easily. If you don’t have time—and/or don’t care about fat—ignore this step.

Shortly before you are ready to serve the stew, melt a little butter in a frying pan, and quickly sauté the small onions and the mushrooms. Add them to the beef mixture, and stir to make sure they are covered in sauce.

Taste the sauce and adjust the seasonings. If the flavor is too strong, add a little water. Simmer on the stove top for 5 to 10 minutes.

Garnish the dish with parsley and serve over noodles or potatoes. Serves 6.

(©A.M.P.A.S.®)

Larry’s Cabbage and Sausage Supper

Larry gets ready to eat.

Happy March! We are now in Massachusetts Maple Month, according to the Massachusetts Maple Producers Association.

Regular readers of this blog will know that I LOVE maple syrup—not just on pancakes but as a sweetener for all sorts of dishes. It’s particularly useful in recipes like this one, sent in by Larry Fox, who lives in Eugene, Oregon.

I've known Larry almost all my life. In some ways he seems very grown up: he has a very responsible job and prematurely gray hair. When we get together, however, I always think the hair is a disguise--like the shoe polish we used to whiten our hair in high-school theatricals. He's still fun and youthful at heart.

As you can see, Larry's recipe only requires a tiny bit of maple syrup (and you may use sugar if you want to). The syrup enhances the sweet-and-sour appeal of this cabbage concoction.

Larry used some form of chicken sausage when he prepared it; I used turkey kielbasa. If you are near a German butcher, try a German sausage since the dish definitely has a German flavor.

Larry’s recipe also included a teaspoon of cracked mustard seeds, but I couldn’t find my mustard seeds so I left them out and it was still delicious—warm, flavorful, and hearty.

What’s YOUR favorite way to use maple syrup? Please leave a comment below to let me know….


Ingredients:

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon caraway seeds
1 teaspoon peppercorns, cracked
1 large yellow onion, sliced
1 pound cabbage, roughly shredded
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 teaspoons salt
freshly ground pepper to taste
2 firm apples, cored and cut into 1/4-inch wedges (Larry uses honey crisp; I used Gala apples from Apex Orchards, and I used Apex’s vinegar as well)
5 sprigs fresh thyme (you may use dried if you absolutely have to)
1 tablespoon maple syrup
1/4 cup apple-cider vinegar
1 pound sausage, sliced into bite-sized pieces

Instructions:

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. In a large pan over medium-high heat, heat the oil; then toss the spices in it for 1 minute. Add the onion, cabbage, garlic, salt, and pepper. Cook until they are nice and brown, stirring frequently.

Turn off the heat, and stir in the apples, thyme, sugar, and vinegar.

Transfer the mixture to a casserole dish, and place the sausage pieces on top. Place the dish, uncovered, in the oven, and bake for 10 minutes. Flip the sausages over and bake for another 10 to 12 minutes, until the sausage pieces are cooked through.

Serve with lots of German-style mustard and roasted small potatoes—not to mention a hearty beer. Serves 4.

Eating this dish may start you dancing like my neighbors' snowgirl.