Peppermint Bark

Growing up, my family didn’t have many holiday traditions. I can remember two—opening one gift each on Christmas Eve, and an annual Thanksgiving morning competition to decide which team has dish duty (the year of the pinball tournament was the best). But I can’t remember food ones that stuck year in and year out. Some years my mom would bake her holly cake—a jelly-rolled number shaped like a log with frosting spruced up with mint extract, and decorated with jellied gummies that she’d cut into leaf shapes—we loved it. Or some years she’d make candies like fudge or use cup molds for caramels and peanut butter meltaways.

Like most traditions, ours just sort of happen once and then are requested year after year. But most are labors of love, entailing loads of stress (I get that the turkey stuffed inside a duck was fun one year, but maybe it’s just a one-time deal?). In my family’s case, my guess is that there were so many of us kids that the recipe requests varied, and my mother tried her best to appease us all. Maybe that’ll be my story once we have children too, but the first year I was married I stumbled on Paula Deen (I think) making peppermint bark on television and have been making it each December since.

The thing with peppermint bark is that it’s everywhere—Target, Williams Sonoma, department stores—everywhere. Which totally surprises me, because it’s the most embarrassingly simple thing to make. I riffed off Deen’s basic recipe and made it into something I could actually tell people about—even two glasses of wine in. You’ll see what I mean below. At any rate, it’s a favorite around our house. This year I’ll package it in sleek tins, nest in pretty tissue, and make labels to give the bark as gifts. Or I might do them Donna Hay style and put them in metallic cups for individual little treats. Either way, it’s a holiday staple we cannot live without, and a tradition not worth stressing over.

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A Simple Side Salad

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. My birthday falls around it and most years I’m surrounded by dear friends and family, which is pretty perfect. But, really, birthday or not, it’s about the food, isn’t it? At our house, we’re traditional all the way, but sometimes I want sides that aren’t so rich. Several years ago I started making an asparagus salad that I found in an old Food & Wine magazine that has become one of our staples. I like that the fennel dressing can be made in advance, same for toasting the walnuts, so day of, it’s just blanching asparagus and assembling. It doesn’t get simpler than this; save the fussy for the cornbread stuffing.

Asparagus Salad with Toasted Walnuts and Goat Cheese
6 servings

1 cup walnut halves (4 ounces)
½ teaspoon fennel seeds
2 pounds medium asparagus
¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 ½ tablespoons sherry vinegar
1 large scallion, white and light green parts only, very finely chopped
1 tablespoon chopped tarragon
1 tablespoon chopped mint
salt and freshly ground pepper
4 ounces crumbled goat cheese

1. Preheat the oven to 350°. Spread the walnuts on a small baking sheet and bake them for 8 minutes, or until lightly toasted. Transfer to a plate to cool, then break in half.

2. Meanwhile, in a small skillet, toast the fennel seeds over moderately high heat until fragrant and golden, about 20 seconds. Transfer to a work surface and let cool, then finely chop.

3. Pour ½ inch of water into a large pot fitted with a large steamer basket and bring to a boil. Discard the tough ends from the asparagus and add the spears to the steamer; cover and steam over high heat until just tender, about 4 minutes. Transfer to paper towels and pat dry. Let cool to room temperature, then cut on the diagonal into 2-inch lengths.

4. Meanwhile, in a large bowl, whisk the olive oil with the vinegar, scallion, tarragon, mint and chopped fennel seeds. Season with salt and pepper.

5. Add the asparagus and walnuts to the bowl and toss. Add the goat cheese. Season with salt and pepper, transfer to plates and serve.

Coffee & Eggs

I’ve never been a huge coffee drinker, which is a bit odd since tribes of them surround me. I grew up in a household where my mother brewed a full pot daily and proceeded to down the last drop by herself. I sometimes wonder what sort of person my mother would be without her entire pot of coffee a day habit.

And now, I’m married to a man I’ve learned through the years to not even so much as look at before he’s showered and poured at least one cup of really strong stuff and sipped it in silence (bar ESPN’s Sportscenter). I don’t set coffee meetings (I make cocktail, lunch, or dinner plans), and I’ve just never (even in my time spent on overnight rotations in news) felt like I couldn’t live without coffee. And I’ve had good coffee–Hawaiian, Costa Rican, Jamaican–though never been a fan of Starbucks, or as it’s referred to in my house, ‘burnbucks’ or ‘bitterbucks’ (they over-roast their beans, big time).

Now, don’t get me wrong, I do drink coffee. I like the ritual of it at home, the smell, the coffeemaker waking me up in the morning with its handy timer set to go off and rouse us out of bed. I like the kind of beans we buy and that we grind them finely ourselves. I like the way we make it. I like to add a teeny bit of turbinado sugar to it and I like the brand of organic half and half I buy. I like the white Crate & Barrel mugs that are one of the only things from our wedding registry dishes that aren’t missing from the set–-dinner plates and cereal bowls, that’s a whole other story.

But, the truth of it is this—I’ve never had a coffee drink. You know, my drink. Honestly, I never know what to order and usually settle for basic black that I doctor to resemble my coffee at home. As a matter for fact, I don’t even know what I like. I know my husband’s order (Americano with room), my older sister’s (skinny latte with a shot of peppermint), my twin sister’s (varies between time of day and runs the gamut of simple drip to lattes and cappuccinos), and my mom’s (no-nonsense black). In our world of coffee culture, wi-fi, and mobile offices, I’m supposed to know what I like to drink in the morning; society wants me to know these things. Every office I’ve ever worked in had the drill of sending the interns on a Starbucks run. I’d take so long trying to decide I’d just tell them to forget it and get back to doing whatever I was doing before the sweetly gestured interruption.

It all reminds me of that scene in Runaway Bride, the “how do you like your eggs?” moment where Julia Roberts’s Maggie character makes every sort of egg imaginable and ends up with Benedict as the only one she likes, after years of poached, whites-only, and scrambled with dill to appease whomever she was engaged to. Taking that time to figure out what you like. Not what everyone else likes, what you like.

And then it happened. I got my drink. While in Europe over the summer, at any cafe I’d just simply order a coffee with milk without even thinking about it. Though, unlike in my home kitchen, I wouldn’t add sugar because of the decadence of the whole milk, and also unlike at home, coffee there often means espresso and milk means steamed milk. These rich coffees were lovely and I wanted one every single morning. So, there you have it. I’m a cafe au lait. After all these years of skirting around the coffee culture, I finally have a drink worth ordering.

Breaking Bread

My mother is a wonderful cook. She learned from her mother and older sister, as they are fantastic in the kitchen as well. But, the thing I think about the most often in my mom’s repertoire is all her own, her homemade bread. Where I live now, in the South, it’s truly all about the biscuits (and I’m trying to master rosemary ones), but there’s nothing more comforting or that reminds me as much of my own roots than my mother’s recipe for simple white bread.

She started making it when they lived in Ft. Bragg, North Carolina in 1971, but it will forever take me back to my Midwestern roots. It’s a bit rustic and no frills, but make no mistake, it’s simply Heaven on a plate. I didn’t always think that, though. Around age eight I recall being really embarrassed at lunch when we were the only kids in the cafeteria noshing on pb&j’s sans the Wonder bread. But, my mom tells a different story of stopping bread baking while my dad traveled for long stretches to Egypt for work and my brother came home and asked, “Where’s that good bread?” Hence, the homemade version was resurrected.

When we were younger, my parents both loved to entertain and threw epic parties generally resulting in my dad calling some old Army buddy of his in some foreign country around 4 a.m. and talking at the top of his lungs after downing gin and tonics all night. But, for those nights that were a bit more civilized, I remember that bread making an appearance, often baked in little terra cotta pots for guests to have their own individual loaf to break.

Ritually, on Wednesdays and Sundays, she’d make that bread. A long, slim loaf that she’d knead out in the morning, let rise in the afternoon, and bake by evening. My favorite way to eat it has always been the same–just out of the oven with a thin spread of butter. That’s it. Since I’ve been in Kansas with my mom this past week, I thought I’d finally nab the recipe and share it with you.

Perfect White Bread
(from Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook)

1 package active dry yeast
¼ cup water
2 cups milk, scalded
2 tablespoons sugar
2 teaspoons salt
1 tablespoon shortening
6 to 6 ¼ cups sifted all-purpose flour

Oven 400°

Soften active dry yeast in warm water (110°). Combine hot milk, the sugar, salt, and shortening. Cool to lukewarm.

Stir in 2 cups of the flour; beat well. Add the softened yeast; mix. Add enough of remaining flour to make a moderately stiff dough. Turn out on lightly floured surface; knead till smooth and satiny (8 to 10 minutes). Shape in a ball; place in lightly greased bowl, turning once to grease surface. Cover; let rise in warm place till double (about 1 ½ hours). Punch down. Let rise again until double (about 45 minutes).

Cut dough in 2 portions. Shape each in smooth ball; cover and let rest 10 minutes. Shape in loaves; place in 2 greased loaf pans (8 ½ x 4 ½ x 2 ½ inch). Cover and let rise till double (about 1 hour). Bake in hot oven (400°) 35 minutes or until done. If tops brown too fast, cover loaves with aluminum foil last 20 minutes. Makes 2 loaves.

Outstanding in the Field

I’ve wanted to interview Jim Denevan, the creative genius behind Outstanding in the Field for ages now. His culinary troupe goes beyond just farm to table by literally bringing the table to the farm. With food events criss-crossing America, stops in Europe slated for 2011, and tickets selling out in hours, this is one dining experience that’s a must when in a town near you.

I’m thrilled to finally be able to post my interview with Jim, in which we chat about charming venues, adventurous eaters, and geographical salts.

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Independence Day Shandy

My dad’s mom, Grandma Mary, used to drink one beer every July 4. And just that day. If memory serves, I think she said something about it being patriotic to drink a beer out of a can.

So, every year around this time I picture her and that beer. This year, I’ve spruced it up a bit with my version of how a beer should taste–The Shandy. It’s a ginger beer-based cocktail that originated in Britain in the mid 19th century. Which is ironically very un-patriotic of me, but I’m not one to overanalyze my cocktails.

Thankfully this drink, adapted from an old Gourmet magazine recipe, uses mint because my garden is overfilled with it at the moment. It also strays from the ginger-beer, calling for a good pale ale. In any case, this the most refreshing way to watch those fireworks while you ooh and ah.

ingredients
1 cup sugar
3 cups water
four 3-inch strips lemon zest, removed with a vegetable peeler
1 cup fresh lemon juice
2 fresh mint sprigs
chilled beer, I’m partial to Sweetwater 420 extra pale ale

preparation
In a small saucepan bring sugar and 1 cup water to a boil, stirring until sugar is dissolved, and stir in zest. Cool sugar syrup to room temperature.

Transfer syrup to a small pitcher and stir in remaining 2 cups water, lemon juice, and mint. Chill lemonade until cold. (make about 4 ½ cups lemonade).

Pour ¼ cup lemonade, or to taste, into each of 4 chilled beer glasses and top off with beer.

Thumbs Up, Thumbs Down Food Trends

For my job, I’m acutely aware of food trends. I’m not a critic or chef, nor do I work at a culinary publication. However, I do cover restaurant openings a ton. And with that, I get to see what’s popping up before anyone else, so I’ve started to notice patterns. Here are my picks of things I love on today’s menus and the things I wish would disappear. Bad news first…

A year ago I wrote about burgers, burgers, everywhere burgers. While I love a good burger (really, I do), I’m a bit over them. In Atlanta alone, it’s gourmet burger city right now, so I can only imagine what the rest of the country is looking like between two buns. Those jazzed up kinds topped with wine-infused ketchup and rock star chefs making them in places not called restaurants or diners, but boutiques. So annoying.

I’m not really complaining about the farm-to-table food trend here. Honest. I’m just so effing over restaurants patting themselves on the back about serving fresh, quality food that goes from its source to your mouth. I mean isn’t that your job as a chef? To give me the best ingredients in their peak state and serve it? Are we really so far gone in the food industry that just eating non-processed, chemical-free food is to be touted from here to California? Seriously, stop bragging about it.

Some things I love right now? Salts. Last year, for an article I was researching and writing, I tried hickory smoked salts, and man alive, they are divine. We put them on everything. I also cannot get enough of the recent salted dessert craze showing up everywhere on menus, like caramel pot de crème with vanilla salt.

I’ve written about food trucks here before, but I failed to mention my first introduction to them. It was an old Airstream called Moya Taco just north of San Francisco. Perfection. We ate there after a long day of travel (my twin sister had us on planes, trains and automobiles, except instead of trains it was a commuter bus with me holding my luggage on my lap for the better part of 2 hours. Sorry tangent, apparently that one left a mark). But, it led us to the magical Sonoma glow that is Healdsburg and just after that we saw the Moya trailer shining like a beacon in the night. On its picnic tables I ate the best burrito ever washed down with a cold, coke classic out of a can. That was my first true introduction to California cuisine. On that note, with food trucks comes the easier accessibility to a variety of ethnic foods. And right now I’m seeing words like bulgogi appearing before me. Thumbs up, absolutely.

Crack Brownies

Crack Brownies. That’s what we call them at my house. But, when I first stumbled across the recipe in Real Simple a few years ago, they were just called ‘Peanut Butter Cup Brownies.’

Who knew they’d be so addictive, so amazing, and quite possibly the best brownie I’d ever laid my greedy little hands on? Well, they are.

I’ve taken them to tennis matches and watched grown women who live for sportsmanship and love to rattle on about proper manners basically want to knock each other out for the last one. I’ve seen whole trays devoured in one Netflix movie showing. And I’ve witnessed things I cannot even write about (it involves someone with zero patience eating them semi-raw).

Those are stories for another time … right now though, I’m at my sister’s in Toledo taking care of my niece and nephew. They are both giving me a hand in mixing up my next batch of crack.

Wrapped in parchment paper and tied with a pretty ribbon, Crack Brownies make the perfect Mother’s Day gift. Well, at least that’s what my sister is getting from her children since Aunt Dana is the queen of multitasking and combined a kiddo activity into gifts and something she could write about.

*dp note*
Do not make the mistake of looking up the calorie/fat content online. You don’t even want to know the answer.

Peanut Butter Cup Brownies
A.K.A. Crack Brownies

Hands-On Time: 15m
Total Time: 50m

Ingredients
2 sticks unsalted butter, plus more for the pan
8 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped
4 large eggs
3 cups sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 ½ cups all-purpose flour
kosher salt
8 large peanut butter cups, cut into pieces

Directions
1. Heat oven to 400° F.
2. Melt the butter and chocolate in a pan over low heat.
3. Using a mixer, beat the eggs and sugar until pale yellow and fluffy. Lower speed and pour in the melted chocolate and vanilla. Mix in the flour and ¼ teaspoon salt. Fold in the peanut butter cups.
4. Scrape into a buttered 9-by-13-inch baking dish. Bake until the tip of a knife comes out clean, about 35 minutes.

Mint Lemonade

My mother has a set of girlfriend’s she’s known for about 50 years now. The Lindas they’re called, because there’s Linda N. and Linda G., and then my mom, (who’s not a Linda). But, they all met in Oklahoma City, circa 1959 and 1961. I’ve written about them before on these pages–here’s where they were my Madras testers. I don’t think they minded in the slightest.

Linda N. has an absolutely refreshing mint lemonade recipe, which will forever remind me of the first time I drank it, on a mild May day at her cabin in the Colorado mountains while on vacation with my family. It makes me think of old friends and family. Well, and springtime, and something to quench your thirst after weeding around all the mint in the garden.

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Cookbook Wish List

I love collecting cookbooks and I’m a sucker for the gorgeous photos. Here are a few that I really want to add to my collection.

• Food & Wine profiled Su-Mei Yu’s The Elements of Life in last month’s issue and I’m intrigued by the notion of combining Buddhist principles of cooking with the four components for a balanced life-Earth, Wind, Fire and Air.

• Roahl Dahl’s granddaughter can cook. And model, and be a television presenter, and be married to Jamie Cullum … not such a bad life there, Sophie.

• The highly anticipated book by Chef David Chang, published in the fall of 2009, is still on my wish list. While I’m a little late to the Momofuko party, I want this one.
• Thomas Keller’s newest cookbook on his Napa Valley Ad Hoc has a family-style focus that screams entertaining on the menu to me. Plus, I hear his fried chicken is last-meal worthy.

• Because you have to round out the meal with something sweet, I would love to try out some recipes in John Barricelli’s new release based on the delights from his Connecticut bakery.

• And last, but not least, Three Sheets cocktail book rounds out the list … loaded with drinking games, recipes and historical references sure to take you to from just plain annoying to know-it-all at status at your next get-together. The best part, a guy named Zane wrote it.