The Consummate Oatmeal Cookie

I'm a fair-weather fan of the oatmeal cookie. Most are too soft, and the occasional one is just too crisp to be believed. My wife does conjure an amazing oatmeal crisp with butterscotch chips that I adore, but it is definitely the exception rather than the rule. Some are too bland, others too doughy, others still lack the desirable texture of oatmeal, having either too much or too little.

Well, in preparation for last week's concert, I wanted to find the perfect oatmeal cookie to pair with the crumb-topped pumpkin bread and hot cider (unspiced—let's not gild the lily!) After much searching, plenty of frustration, and a near heartbreak, I found them. I really found them. I found the perfect autumn oatmeal cookie, and I will never, repeat never use another recipe. The flavor is, as my student said, "voluptuous," with hints of spice and a fruity aura. The texture is heaven itself: buttery, chewy, moist, with neither too many nor too few oats. It is the splendor of autumn, so make sure you have someone to share with or it'll prove your downfall. Here it is, in all its glory.

Oatmeal, Cranberry and Pecan Cookies

adapted from Katy Sparks and Andrea Strong

• 1/2 cup unsalted butter (1 stick), at room temperature
• 3/4 cup sugar
• 1 cup brown sugar, firmly packed
• 1 tsp salt
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 2 large eggs
• 1 1/2 cups flour
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
• 1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
• 1/8 tsp ground cloves
• 1 cup quick cooking oats
• 2 cups chopped pecans
• 2 tsp freshly grated orange zest
• 1-2 cups dried cranberries (to taste)

Preheat oven to 350°F. Line a large cookie sheet with parchment. Using an electric mixer, beat the butter in a bowl until light and fluffy. Add both sugars, salt, and vanilla, and beat until well mixed, about three minutes. Stir in eggs, one at a time. Sift together the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, and clove in a separate bowl. Add half of the flour mixture to the butter with the mixer on low speed. Once the flour has been incorporated, add the second half. Stir in the oats, pecans, orange zest, and chocolate chips. Drop the dough, by the tablespoon, onto the cookie sheet and bake for 10 to 12 minutes or until golden. Remove from the oven and cool the cookies on a rack. Store at room temperature in a cookie jar or other airtight container.

Notes:

• You could also substitute semisweet chocolate chips for the cranberries, but I don't really do that nutmeg/chocolate combination; it's just not my style.
• I found the cooking time to be exact: 12 for the first batch, and 10-11 for subsequent ones. Don't overcook or you'll regret it.
• If you need to feed a crowd, this doubles without a problem.

Pork Tenderloin with Braised Cabbage

The cookbook from whence this recipe comes has been on my bookshelf for nine years. Yes, just under a decade, and I think this might be the first thing I've made from it. Now, I wonder how i lived without it all these years. It makes light look gourmet, and sometimes even people who are watching their stubborn waistline like to feel a little gourmet. Such is the case with this gem, and I'm excited to see if the other recipes live up this one. I have my doubts, but I'll try to show faith. I also doubted whether or not my family would eat it, but eat it they did, and aside from Michael, the carnivore, the hands down favorite was the cabbage. The cabbage? Oh yes, the cabbage.

We served this in what seemed quite a traditional manner with buttered boiled red potatoes.

Pork Tenderloin with Braised Cabbage

from Williams Sonoma Healthy Cooking

• 1 large head green cabbage (30 oz.)
• 2 pork tenderloins, about 3/4 pound each (1.5 pounds total)
• 1 Tbsp vegetable oil
• salt to taste, plus 1 tsp salt
• freshly ground pepper to taste, plus 1/4 tsp pepper
• 2 Tbsp cider vinegar
• 1 Tbsp sugar

Remove any bruised outer leaves from the cabbage and discard. Cut the head of the cabbage in to quarters through the stem end and then remove the core from each wedge. Slice the wedges crosswise into thin shreds. You should have about 10 cups (30 oz/940 g) shredded cabbage. Set aside.

Trim the pork tenderloins of any visible fat. In a large nonstick frying pan (that has a lid!) over medium-high heat, warm the oil. When hot but not smoking, add the tenderloins, season lightly with salt and pepper, and cook, turning frequently, until browned on all sides, about 10 minutes. Remove from the pan and set aside.

Return the pan to medium-high heat. Add the cabbage, the 1 tsp salt, and the 1/4 tsp pepper and cook, stirring and tossing several times, until the cabbage is slightly wilted, about 5 minutes. Add the vinegar and sprinkle on the sugar; stir and toss to combine. Reduce the heat to low (I did medium-low) and return the pork to the pan, pressing the tenderloins slightly into the cabbage. Cover and cook until the cabbage is tender and the pork is firm to the touch and pale pink when cut in the thickest portion, about 20 minutes. Alternately, test for doneness with a meat thermometer into the thickest part of a tenderloin; it should read 160˚ F.

Transfer the tenderloins to a cutting board. Mound the cabbage on a platter. Cut the tenderloins on the diagonal into thin slices and arrange over the cabbage. Serve at once.

Anniversary Dinner a.k.a The Best Steak You've Ever Had

Happy Anniversary to us—9 years and we're happier than we've ever been.

That said, we celebrated tonight with dinner in with the boys, and it was delightful. For my anniversary gift to myself, I splurged on a single 12 oz. New York strip steak that we all shared (who needs all that meat to themselves, anyway?) and for my gift to Liz, I helped clean up the kitchen, including scraping dried gnocchi dough off the counter, after we finished.

The gnocchi was Jodi's recipe, which I love because it combines just the right amount of egg and flour to make the little potato dumplings perfect [although I add more salt!] and I served it all with a garden vegetable dice of zucchini, yellow squash, tomato, garlic and fresh thyme. Despite these wonderful, fresh, homemade elements, it was the slab of beef that really stole the show tonight, and while I wish I could take credit for cooking the best steak I've ever had, I can't. Well, I did cook it, but I followed someone else's instructions. I've you'd like the video version, you can watch it here, but if you're a follow the written recipe type, then I'll reproduce it for you.

The Perfect Steak

a la Chris Lim of BLT Steak in New York City

• Good cut of steak [chef Lim suggests a New York, which is what I used.]
• Fresh ground pepper [not too finely ground]
• Kosher Salt
• 3 cloves garlic, peeled
• 5-10 springs fresh thyme
• 1 Tbsp butter

Preheat oven to 350˚. Heat a seasoned cast iron or black steel pan over high heat until it's blastingly hot. That's important. Season your steak generously with salt and pepper on both sides; you can even dab the edges in it if you'd like. Oil your pan with a generous dose of high-heat tolerant oil—I used canola. Throw that puppy in the pan and let it sit for 1-2 minutes until a nice carmelized crust has formed on the bottom. When it has formed a golden crust, turn the steak over and immediately put the butter right on top of the steak, and throw garlic and thyme in the pan. Immediately put the entire pan in the preheated oven and cook 2-4 minutes more, or until desired doneness is reached. [You'll have to watch the video to find out how to do that without puncturing the meat—it's amazing.] We opted for rather rare tonight in the interest of time, more than anything. When finished, remove to cutting board to rest a few minutes. When ready to serve, slice against the grain at a slight bias and enjoy.

Gyros with homemade pita and tzatziki

In the interest of spicing up our dinners a bit, I turned international and decided to try a little Greek for Sunday dinner. I found some recipes in my cookbook collection, but I was not entirely convinced that they would be worth the hassle, so I searched until I found what might actually be the most complex of the recipes I perused. Convinced that nothing could be that much trouble without being worth it, I forged ahead.

A few notes:

• I marinated overnight—it was awesome. It may taste salty when sampled alone, but when paired with the vegetables, pita, and tzatziki, you'll be glad for the flavor punch.
• Pitas should be quite thin and terribly even before you cook them. Mine were delicious, but didn't quite have that hollow puff that would have made them incredible. I recommend rings for your rolling pin or perhaps even a pasta roller on a thick (3-5) setting.
• The tzatziki was incredible, so much so that I actually ate it plain as leftovers today.
• I served with fresh tomato and mean to slice up some red onion—I wish I had as it would have been a great foil to the sweet tomatoes and creamy spread.

Pork Gyros

• 2 1/2 pounds boneless pork loin, shoulder, or fresh ham [I used loin]
• white wine vinegar
• 3 Tbsp sea salt [I used coarse and longed for fine.]
• 1 1/2 tsp sweet paprika [I used Hungarian and I think it was marvelous]
• 1/4 tsp pepper
• 1/4 tsp finely crushed (powdered) oregano

In a small bowl combine salt, paprika, pepper, and oregano.

Slice the meat against the grain as thinly as possible and pound with a meat mallet to less than 1/4-inch thick. In a flat-bottomed container, arrange one layer of slices, sprinkle liberally with seasoning mixture, then with a little vinegar. Spread the vinegar over the meat so that all pieces are moistened. Add layers, spices, and vinegar until all the meat has been marinated. Cover and refrigerate for 1/2 hour to 2 hours [or overnight like I did—so tender, so flavorful.]

Remove meat from the refrigerator and slice into strips about 1/2 to 3/4 of an inch wide and 2 to 2 1/2 inches long. Dry fry (without any oil) in a non-stick frying pan until well browned and slightly crisp.

Alternate cooking methods: Do not cut the meat into strips before cooking. Cook thinly pounded pieces on the grill (or in a roasting pan in the oven) until the edges of the meat begin to crisp, then slice and serve.

Tzatziki

adapted from Kalyn's Kitchen

I couldn't find Greek yogurt in this town, but I knew I could reproduce it by straining plain yogurt. Just find plain yogurt with no added gelatin (this might be harder than you think) and hang it in quadruple thickness cheesecloth and let the water drain off for an hour or two. Some nonfat plain yogurt has pectin in it—I'm not sure the effect this has, but I'd shy away if I were you as it may prevent separation of the water. I let mine drain too long (my 4 cups yogurt ended up less than 2 cups) but the consistency was amazing in the end.

• 3 cups Greek Yogurt [or regular plain yogurt strained to desired consistency]
• juice of 1 lemon (about 3T) [opt for fresh, please]
• 1 garlic clove, chopped
• 2 medium cucumbers, seeded and diced [no need to seed if using English]
• ~1 Tbsp kosher salt
• 1 T finely chopped fresh dill [I used almost twice that accidentally and don't regret it!]
• salt and pepper to taste

If you don't have Greek yogurt, strain plain yogurt as described above. Peel cucumbers, then cut in half lengthwise and take a small spoon and scrape out seeds. Discard seeds. (If you use the small seedless or European cucumbers with few seeds, you can skip this step.) Dice cucumbers, then put in a colander, sprinkle on 1 T salt, and let stand for 30 minutes to draw out water. Drain well and wipe dry with paper towel. [I squeeze my cucumbers in my fist, just a handful at a time to get the water out. It worked great!]

In food processor with steel blade, add cucumbers, garlic, lemon juice, dill, and a few grinds of black pepper. Process until well blended, then stir this mixture into the yogurt. Taste before adding any extra salt, then salt if needed. Place in refrigerator for at least two hours before serving so flavors can blend. [This resting time is very important—I left mine overnight.]

Pitas

• 3 cups flour
• 1 1/2 tsp salt
• 1 Tbsp sugar or honey
• 2 tsp yeast
• 1 1/4 to 1 1/2 cups water, room temperature or warmer
• 2 tsp olive oil

If you are using active dry yeast, follow the instructions on the packet to active it (see the note on yeast above). Otherwise, mix the yeast in with the flour, salt, and sugar. Add the olive oil and 1 1/4 cup water and stir together with a wooden spoon. All of the ingredients should form a ball. If some of the flour will not stick to the ball, add more water [I didn't.]

Once all of the ingredients form a ball, place the ball on a work surface, such as a cutting board, and knead the dough for approximately 10 minutes (or until your hands get tired). Form dough into a ball and place in an oiled bowl, turning once to cover with oil. Cover and let rise until doubled in size, about 1 hour.

Punch down dough, then separate into 8 pieces [mine were huge, you might want to do more] and form each one into a ball, then cover with a towel and let rest 20 minutes to relax. Place baking stone or inverted cookie sheet on center rack and preheat the oven to 400˚ [I used 2 stones side by side to double my cooking surface.] After the dough has relaxed for 20 minutes, spread a light coating of flour on a work surface and place one of the balls of dough there. Sprinkle a little bit of flour on top of the dough and use a rolling pin or your hands to stretch and flatten the dough. You should be able to roll it out to between 1/8 and 1/4 inch thick. If the dough does not stretch sufficiently you can cover it with the damp towel and let it rest 5 to 10 minutes before trying again.

Open the oven and place as many pitas as you can fit on the hot baking surface. They should be baked through and puffy after 3 minutes. If you want your pitas to be crispy and brown you can bake them for an additional 3 to 5 minutes, but it isn't necessary. [I did 4 minutes total because they were a little thick and I wanted to avoid any chance of doughiness.] They should be soft and warm, and should be eaten immediately.

Farmer's Market Day 2

Blueberries and I have a long, perilous history. It begins circa 1984 with my first forays into public schooling and a fad that, thankfully, came and went without much permanence. You see, we were a poor people. We weren't destitute, just normal young family poor, and I'm continually grateful for generous extended family and ingenious mother and father who successfully hid this fact from us as children. I don't think anyone hid it on purpose, but did what had to be done from day to day; how amazing and resilient children are.

I digress. It was during this time that I entered kindergarten and became fascinated with little things that other children had that I had never seen before. I wasn't a jealous child (yet) but a noticer of flashy shoes, especially rad shirts, and little things that were continually being shuffled clandestinely from backpack to hand, and sometimes from pocket to mouth. It is this last category that relates to today's post. While some children might sneak candy, others gum, and maybe a Ritz cracker or two for the especially adept, the big thing in our wily kindergarten class was flavored toothpaste. The very idea of it makes me shudder to this day, but cherry, grape, strawberry, raspberry, bubble gum, and blueberry were a carnival of wonder to my run of the mill "fresh mint" palette. I longed for my own tube to stash in my corduroy pockets. I ached to, just once, be the one around the corner of the playground, unseen from adult eyes, who could take a lick of his prized flavored dental paste. I knew it would secure my future if I could somehow procure one small tube of the coveted substance. Seriously it was like crack to us. Well, except that it's not addictive, and we never sold. Never.

I pined for weeks, months even, but never, not ever, were my antics rewarded by those in control of my dental destiny (once again a giant moment of thanks to parents who knew how to raise children.) One fortuitous day, however, a friend offered me a taste of his (or hers? It's all fuzzy now.) I'm sure I tried to be reluctant but inside I must have been turning cartwheels as the sweet nectar was finally offered to what must have been the most grateful of recipients. I took a swab, placed it in my mouth, and let the flavor melt over the taste buds that had been so cruelly neglected those many months. I see myself in my mind now, eyes closed, savoring the pleasure moment by moment until I realized that what i was tasting was

TERRIBLE.

It was one of the worst things I had ever tasted, a strange concoction that mixed that familiar texture of toothpaste with unconvincingly falsified fruit flavor, and what I was sure was the lingering taste of my own standard, boring, unsensational mint paste. I was horrified as I realized that my months of pining had led up to one large disappointment, the terror of which I may never forget. The flavor of that fateful day? BLUEBERRY. Since that day, every moment of blueberry on my tongue has been tinged by the pasty, minty concoction from my kindergarten days, and I have passed on every possible opportunity to consume it. Not being entirely narrow minded or stubborn, every few years I try blueberries again, and every time I decide that they really aren't for me.

Until last week. Maybe it was the day, the season, my mood, or a particular strain grown in this area, but finally, after a quarter century, I fell in love with blueberries. Not canned, frozen, bottled, preserved, syrup-ified, or otherwise ruined berries, but fresh, plump, juicy ripe blueberries. In light of my final absolution of the sins of my culinary past (really, eating toothpaste like candy is a sin,) I bought a quart at farmer's market yesterday. How did I prepare them? Like this:

Lemon Pound Cake with Blueberries and Cream

1 Lemon pound cake [I'd give you the recipe I used, but it wasn't that great and was low calorie.]

1 pint Blueberries [or more if you need more!]

1 Tbsp Lemon juice

2 Tbsp Sugar

1 cup (8 oz.) Heavy whipping cream [I confess I used fat free cool whip, but you shouldn't]

Whip the cream just to soft peaks. You can sweeten it if you like, but I prefer it straight up. Take 1/2-1 cup of berries (depending on how many plates you're preparing) and place them in the food processor with the lemon juice and sugar; purée until smooth. Assemble your dessert by placing a generous slice of pound cake on a plate. Top cake with a plump dollop of cream, and small handful of fresh berries and a few tablespoons of the sauce you just made. It's fair to note that the color combination of this dessert is delightful, like a little purple pansie (touched with yellow gold . . .) Serve and savor. It's not complex, and even a pound cake is pretty fool proof if you're brave enough to make it instead of buy it. I do think the lemon flavor, however, is pivotal to proper enjoyment, so you'll probably have to make it yourself. So much the better for you.

So, here's to summer, and here's to trying something again and again and again until it hits you just right.

Farmer's Market Day 1

We finally found our local Farmer Market, and while it's nothing compared to the marketplace in Columbia, it's wonderful to have fresh, local produce available once more. In honor of finding it, I enjoyed my finds (thanks, Heather!) in our dinner tonight. Chicken and Salad was all we had, but it was simply divine, well-seasoned, and just what we wanted on a sweltering summer day. This fed our family of five with room left for a little chocolate popcorn dessert.

Seared Chicken with Market Tomato Salad

3 medium chicken breasts

1 Tbsp Thyme (I used dry because it's what I had)

1 tsp sea salt

1 tsp freshly ground pepper

2 garlic cloves, crushed

1-2 Tbsp oil [I used 1/2 safflower and 1/2 sesame for a rich, dark flavor]

Assorted fresh tomatoes [I used 2 orange and a generous handful of red grape tomatoes]

5-6 leaves fresh basil

sea salt and fresh ground pepper

Combine the thyme, 1 tsp sea salt, 1 tsp pepper, and garlic in a small bowl and mix well. Rinse chicken and dry completely, then cut each breast into 2 pieces, pounding halves, if necessary, to about 1/2 inch thick. While oil is heating in a large skillet over medium-high heat, rub herb mixture into chicken, coating both sides. When oil is hot, place chicken in pan, and cook until done, about 2-3 minutes each side (longer for thicker meat, which is why I pound it flat.) The oil should create a golden crust on the chicken.

Cut large tomatoes into a chunky dice and halve grape size tomatoes. Chop basil and combine all ingredients in a large bowl. Toss together and season to taste with salt and pepper. Serve alongside chicken and perhaps a fresh crusty bread if you feel the need for a little carb action.

My first Barefoot Contessa

A few weeks ago I was watching Ina Garten, the Barefoot Contessa, (while exercising, of course) and marveled at her ability to craft a soup, an entrée, and a dessert from a single main ingredient: bread. I was so thoroughly amazed by the dessert that I committed the Panettone Bread Pudding recipe to memory. When I make it, you'll know. After several weeks of sitting on that recipe, I remember something I once learned from another, extremely professional food blogger: Ina Garten recipes never fail.

Let me repeat that:

Ina Garten recipes never fail.

So tonight, when company was coming and all I had was some fresh basil, bone-in, skin-on chicken breasts, and an assortment of starches and fruits, who did I turn to? Google. And what did I search?

Ina Garten Chicken Basil

And here's my version of what it produced, which I served with oven roasted potatoes and a spinach/peach/cantaloupe melange tossed with a little pear vinegar and mint:

Chicken with Herbed Goat Cheese

adapted from Barefoot Contessa at Home

• 4 chicken breasts, bone in, skin on [I deboned them so I could portion small with ease]
• 4 oz. crumbled feta, Mediterranean style (with kalamata, sun dried tomato, and basil)
• fresh basil leaves
• olive oil
• salt
• freshly ground black pepper

Preheat oven to 375˚. Place chicken breasts on a baking sheet. Loosen the skin from the meat with your fingers, leaving one side attached. Line the chicken breast with basil leaves then spread 1 oz. crumbled feta over the leaves. Pull the skin back over the filling. Rub each piece with olive oil and sprinkly generously with salt and pepper. Bake the breasts for 35 to 40 minutes, until just cooked through. Serve hot or at room temperature.

[Original recipe here.]

I have very little to say about it, except this:

Ina Garten recipes never fail.

It's still true.