I’m on a roll. Trying some of the recipes amongst the hundreds of clippings I sorted through a few days ago. This one was only about 7 months old – after I broke my foot last summer I watched a heck of a lot of television, and this was one of Giada’s Italian recipes that sounded so good, and I knew I’d enjoy it. It’s easy to make, too. Can’t beat that combination. I really can’t say that I make all that many recipes from Food Network shows. I enjoy watching some of them (as theater, I suppose) but only occasionally do I go to the Network’s site and print out a recipe.

Here is Giada De Laurentis’ stuffed jumbo shells, placed in a baking dish. Photo from the Food Network.

I almost always have pancetta on hand, but I didn’t have the 3/4 inch cubes Giada mentions in the recipe – I had the tiny cubed pancetta that I get from Trader Joe’s in 4-ounce packages. DH offered to go grocery shopping for me, so I wrote down “large pasta shells.” I should have known that “jumbo” was what I wanted. Soooo, I had to improvise a bit. The large shells are way too small to stuff, so I just made a casserole of them instead. Am sure they tasted the same, but most definitely didn’t look as attractive as Giada’s. The Asiago cheese is part of what “makes” this dish, since it has a kind of sharp taste. Good, though. And the dash of nutmeg in the mixture was really delish. The dish is rich, so it’s filling. Maybe a bit too rich for me. DH liked this a LOT. Said I could make this anytime. Any day. Night. Whenever.
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Some years ago we were at the home of friends, and many others had been invited to participate in a Russian dinner. Each couple brought something. I made a pie, I think. With a crust that should never be repeated. I’d followed a recipe that was supposed to be a Russian type, made with an egg yolk. Well, anyway, we’ll gloss over that disaster. One of the other couples brought a very authentic borscht. It was what she called a winter borscht, made with beef. It was deliciously deep in flavor, but she wouldn’t share the recipe, was almost offended that I’d ask, as it was a family one. I’ve never forgotten that borscht, and have pined away, wishing I knew how hers was made. So, ever since, I’ve collected borscht recipes, thinking I’d make it sometime.

Wikipedia has a very comprehensive page of information about borscht. About its origin (Russian, Ukrainian, Lithuanian, even Polish), and its two major variations (hot-winter, and cold-summer). The common thread is beets (except for one summer version using sorrel), but what a bunch of variations it suggests. Makes my mind reel even thinking of all the combinations. About as varied as curry powders are to the East Indians, or a green salad to anyone in the world. It’s all in the interpretation, and what is in your larder.

Set before me I had four recipes, all slightly different. Naturally, the common thread was beets. Yet they all included onions, tomatoes, tomato paste, and cabbage. Two had beef in it. Another was vegetarian. And one had andouille sausage (also likely not authentic).

Sidestep with me a bit. We have friends, Mike & Norma. Mike does most of the cooking in their house, and as a Louisiana boy, he loves his rice, red beans. And Andouille (pronounced ahn-doo-wee) sausage. A year ago Mike made a dinner of red beans, rice and sausage for us, which was fabulous. And he kindly bequested to me a package of Andouille. I tucked it into the freezer until I was ready to make something with it. It’s been a year, for goodness’ sake. But Sunday was the day to use it.

I took what I thought was the best of all four recipes and made it my own. Even adding one little thing that probably isn’t true to the genre of borscht, that being thyme.

I baked the beets in the oven (easier to get the skins off), sauteed the vegetables, added almost all the ingrients and simmered for a couple of hours. At the very end you add the Andouille. I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, if you simmer a sausage (a delicious, flavorful sausage of any kind) in a soup, it gives up all of its flavor to the soup, so when you chow down and expect that Kielbasa or Hungarian sausage to have some flavor, you’ll find that it’s absolutely blah. Nothing but soft texture with no flavor whatsoever. Test the soup for seasonings – mine needed just a tad more sugar (note there is 2/3 of a cup of red wine vinegar in it). So, the Andouille, a treasure for sure unless you happen to live anywhere near New Orleans, needs to be added in at the very end, so it still has that spark of heat and chewiness. The resulting chunky soup is just the richest red/orange color, and when serving garnish the soup with a moderate dollop of sour cream.

So, interpret away. Make borscht yours too, with additions of your own. And, THANKS MIKE, for the Andouille. I took two quarts of borscht to them on Sunday afternoon – that was Mike’s request – whatever I made with the gifted Andouille, I needed to share it with him. Gladly!
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Added note (later): Since I baked this bread back in early 2008, I’ve made another Irish Soda Bread with Orange Zest that I think is better than this one. Even if you don’t like orange zest, just eliminate it from the recipe – but do go to that recipe first. I like the texture of the other bread better too.

The recipe came from Gourmet, a reader’s recipe, Stephanie Foley of Massapequa, Long Island, from March, 2002. It’s a bit different than many Irish Soda Bread recipes, which is why I decided to try it, back then. With the exception of the butter brushed on the loaves prior to baking, the only fat in it comes from the buttermilk, which isn’t much. I’ve made it several times since then, always getting rave reviews for it. Truly it comes together in about 7 minutes, including time to gather the ingredients. Then it bakes about 35-40 minutes. Ideally you’ll want to let it rest a bit before cutting it, but sometimes I’ve not had that luxury. But you must let it rest about 5 minutes, otherwise it’s too hot to handle. It’s heaven-on-a-bun [pun intended] with some unsalted butter spread on it, accompanying a soup.

Ready for the oven: here are the dough loaves, cut with 1/2 inch deep furrows, spread with butter.

Cook’s Notes: my flour must be drier here in Southern California, than some, because I always have to add a drizzle more buttermilk to the bowl to give the dough enough liquid to pull it together. I added walnuts to this one, but that’s optional. I’m sure it’s not traditional. Some people don’t like caraway, so eliminate it. I didn’t melt the butter to spread on top of the loaves – I just used a spreader knife and brushed it with very soft butter instead. I’ve never tried substituting some whole wheat flour, but am sure you could. Would be better for us, obviously. This recipe says it serves up to 12 people. Maybe so, if you ate only one small slice. Not in our house. Each loaf probably serves 4, but that’s max unless you have very small eaters. And, I think this bread is best eaten when it’s warm and fresh. It gets dried out if frozen.
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Here’s the mustard and herb chicken as it was served on the plate, on a bed of red onions, with cauliflower on the side.

Here’s the chicken after baking. Note bread crumb crust.

Those of you who regularly read my blog will remember that a few days ago I felt so proud of myself after spending many hours clipping and filing recipes. It needed doing. Then yesterday I went into our laundry room, which has two tall shelves that are completely full of kitchen equipment that won’t fit in my kitchen. And I went to a 8-inch stack of handouts from cooking classes I’ve been to, and was hunting for a specific recipe that was lacking a topping. Out came the stack and I set it on the washing machine and began looking for the Joanne Weir class where she served that particular dish. And what did I find in this stack? Oh my. More recipes that had been torn out of magazines and newspapers. From about 2004 and 2005.

And yet again, one recipe floated its way to the top and said “fix me.” I’ve only begun sorting and piecing together recipes in this new stack.

Sometimes the simplest of recipes are just over-the-top good. That’s the story about this recipe. It came together in less than 30 minutes, and while the chicken was baking I was able to throw together some pan-sauteed cauliflower to serve with it. And to saute the onions that served as the bed under the chicken. The recipe came from Food & Wine, February 2006. According to F&W’s website, this was a “staff favorite.” I understand why.

You make a crumb crust from fresh bread. The recipe calls for 2 slices of country bread. Well, we don’t have country bread on hand in our house – I buy good multi-grain bread at the Corner Bakery every week or so and slices are individually wrapped and frozen. So I used one slice of that bread plus some panko crumbs to make the topping, which also contains Parmesan cheese, garlic, fresh rosemary (I dashed outside, in the dark, mind you) and a bit of olive oil to hold it together. The chicken thighs (I only had skinless, boneless, not what’s called for in the recipe) are seasoned, then browned briefly in a large saute pan that can go in the oven. Once you flip them over you slather them with some Dijon mustard, then carefully mound the crumb mixture on top before popping the pan in the oven at a high temp to bake for about 15 minutes.

Meanwhile I started the cauliflower, and about 7-8 minutes before the chicken was done I sauteed the onion, sugar and lemon juice mixture that goes underneath the chicken. DH and I both just l-o-v-e-d it. Really l-o-v-e-d it. I’ll make this again and again. The thighs were perfectly cooked. And the onions were still just slightly crunchy, which we both liked. The best part is that it came together in 30 minutes.

Cook’s Notes: The recipe says it served two (two thighs each) but for us, one thigh, with the onion bed, and another veg on the side was plenty. So for me, I’d say it served 4 if the thighs are moderate sized. I used a red onion. Any kind would likely work.
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The flagpole is just one of the symptoms of a bigger problem.

This post today isn’t about food, so if you’re looking for a neat new recipe, today isn’t it. Maybe panic soup? Distressing stew?

We’re experiencing one of those moments when you regret owning a home. When you wish you had thought twice about buying a home on a hill, with a slope. Even with a glorious view. When you wish you had a large apartment and somebody else had to deal with issues of maintenance.

Photos of different areas around our patio and pool area. These are relatively new cracks. Top right is the core hole where we can see standing water.

My DH has not been sleeping well at night for about two weeks now. We’re at our wit’s end trying to figure out what’s happening under and around our home. There were cracks around our pool when we bought the house 6 years ago, but the pool is about 28 or 29 years old, so we assumed it was normal. Anybody living in Southern California experiences some earth movement. And yes, we do have earthquakes too. Cracks appear here and there. It’s considered standard behavior. We had a geologist come look at things about 2 years ago and his assessment was: your house is built on a bedrock of sandstone. It’s not going anywhere. It’s solid. Don’t worry about it.

But, in the last 6-9 months or so, more cracks have appeared. A French door is hard to open. A small crack has appeared in our living room (the windows that look out to our lovely view), separating a vertical beam from the floor. A crack opened wider around our jacuzzi. New cracks and fissures have appeared all around the entertaining side of our patio (all covered in cement and brickwork). The flagpole is leaning, more than it ever has. A flower bed, lined with a block wall is tilting. Down. So we hired another geologist who brought in some high-tech seizmic do-dad, which sat here for 6 weeks or so measuring earth movement. None. (That was a huge relief, but didn’t solve the problem.) Then they went all around our property digging 6-10 foot deep core samples. Initially they found nothing. Finally at about core sample 6 or so, they found water. Lots of water. Uh-oh. We’d had neglible rain up to that point, so there shouldn’t be any water underground.

Our water company came out last week and again yesterday, to confirm that we have no leak from our meter. None of the neighbors seem to have any water leaks either. We don’t have much info on our 1978 house (no blueprints left with the house, and none on record at the county building dept. either) other than what we’ve learned over the years with plumbing and building issues. Normal, sewer drain backup kind of issues. And what we learned when the kitchen addition was built. Nothing really of any importance. Nothing to add to this water problem.

We have no water source in the area where the water is pooling. As you look down into this core hole (the top right one in the collage above) you can see water about a foot below ground. The hole is about 3-4 feet from our living room windows. The water company mentioned we might have an aquifer, one of those natural occurring water sources. Seems unlikely since most of Southern California is desert. Sandy soil. But, some of our drinking water comes from natural aquifers deep underground. So, who knows. Anything’s possible. If we have an aquifer, let’s tap it and use it for watering our property. We’d just have to figure out where to put a storage tank. Uhm. Hmmm. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.

The geologist thinks it’s just water that’s accumulated over a period of time (that was also a relief to hear since we were having concerns our house was sinking or sliding – he says no). He also assured us again, yesterday, that the house is built on solid sandstone, and it’s not moving. The plumber says there is a backup in one of our area drains, near where the water is, likely from tree roots. So today the geology firm is going to start digging. With all the rain we’ve had, it’s going to be pretty messy, but at least the soil is very, VERY soft. Part of our patio will have to come up. Maybe a brick walkway too. The geologist is going to open up an 18-inch wide hole, about 3 feet deep, so he can install a semi-permanent pump. If and when water reaches a certain level, the pump will turn on. And we’ll cover it with some kind of cap and leave it there.

The area by the flagpole is probably another problem – they will likely drill a hole horizontally from the side of our hill to try to find a water pool. That’s the thinking at the moment. Once they find it, they’ll install a more permanent drain. Then we’ll likely install some kind of new patio floor. Maybe interlocking paving stones so the water will dissipate more evenly all over the property, rather than just through the relatively few, but wide cracks, which allows water to pool. More will be revealed. Meanwhile, my DH Dave, is going to take a nap.

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This is another of the recipes that worked its way up to the top of the pile, as I was sorting and filing clippings the other day. And since I had some bananas that were way beyond eating out of hand, they seemed perfect for this recipe. I did find the recipe on myrecipes.com, (myrecipes is a compendium of the recipes offered in Southern Living, Cooking Light, Sunset, Coastal & Cottage Living) and it said that when it was published last year it was a repeat – this bread became a real favorite at Cooking Light and won for Best Quick Bread in their 2007 issue all about their best tried and true recipes. It originally appeared on the cover of the September 2003 issue and remains one of their best banana breads. With that kind of praise, how could I not try it?

I’m not always thrilled with Cooking Light’s recipes – better for me, I know, but sometimes there’s too light on flavor. But their baked goods, whether it be breads, or cakes particularly, they’ve worked on extensively, have usually been adapted so they’re pretty darned good. This one was no exception. And, since this is a better-for-you recipe, I’d be inclined to try it again.

Cook’s Notes: The batter went together easily, and the dark rum called for certainly added a depth of flavor that was barely discernible in the finished bread if I really thought about it. I used lemon instead of lime in the glaze. And you’ll note below, I used half sugar and half Splenda in the batter.
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Sorting through recipes the other day I came across about 10 recipes (out of the 3-inch high stack) that I would like to fix real soon. I set those aside (this recipe among them). The rest got filed into my recipe binders. Filing is one of my least favorite activities, along with ironing and gardening. Back when I was a new college grad and went to work in a job that required me to file now and then, the filing piled up for months on end. The same thing happens here at home now, 40+ years later. I mean, I’m retired, for goodness’ sake, and still the filing doesn’t get done. As bills are paid I save the statements. I used to file all of them regularly, every month, then when tax time came around I’d pull them all out for the next year. But a couple of years ago I had a busy year and the entire YEAR of statements ended up in one single pile. Uh, do you want to know how high it was? Nah, you don’t really, do you? Well, it was about 18 inches.

Since we own two homes and two rental homes, we have a sizable amount of paper that traverses our household from mailbox to a sorting area in our garage, to piles for him and her (90% goes into mine), then they get dispersed to the pile, or other places for saving. I’m the one who pays the bills, saves important paperwork, does the tax prep work too. I’ve had to buy two 4-drawer file cabinets for our garage just to store old records. But ever since that year when I didn’t file, I don’t file bills at all anymore. They just accumulate into an 18-inch stack. Then I sort and toss a good part of them.Recipes are another to-file item. And no, they’re not even in the same room as the bill-paying department. I read a lot of magazines, and clip a lot of recipes. I try really hard to only clip recipes I truly think I’m going to prepare. But still, every month I have many new recipes I think I’m going to make. At what age I wonder will I stop doing this? At what point in my life will I decide I have enough recipes, that I don’t need more? At what age will I decide I don’t need more cookbooks? Same problem. One part of me says I’ll probably continue to clip recipes as long as I’m still able to cook and have a kitchen to cook in. And I’ll likely be interested in cookbooks for the same reason. When I’m gone, probably my kids will look at my files of untried recipes (of which there are multitudes) and toss every one of them in the trash. What appeals to one person doesn’t always appeal to another. Well, philosophical things to ponder.

Well, so here we are at this recipe. It had been hanging out in a stack of recipe clippings for oh, let’s say it’s been 9 years. (I have filed in that interim, but I don’t know why this particular recipe hadn’t been. A quandry.) It’s from a 1996 Gourmet Magazine. And the other day I decided I really, REALLY had to do something about the pile. So, I sorted all the recipes into category piles (appetizers, salads, sides, pork, breads, etc.), then filed them away.

The project took hours. And hours. My back was a-killin’ me when I was done. But, at least it’s DONE. And this recipe came popping up to the top. I had all the ingredients (particularly important are the shiitake mushrooms), and it didn’t take too long to make. It was good. Very good. I probably will make this again.

Here are my breading/dipping pans. Available from Williams-Sonoma, they have been a great addition to my kitchen equipment. They come as a set of three, and one edge hooks onto the next one, so the grouping stays in place as you work. In this case I dipped the chicken breasts in flour, then in egg, then in the shiitake mushroom and panko mixture before browning them very briefly, then baking for a short time in the oven. While the chicken bakes (about 10 minutes), you can whip up the mushroom sauce.

Cook’s Notes: Next time, I’ll make more sauce – it’s amazing how little sauce you end up with once mushrooms cook down. If you don’t have white wine (like vermouth), use sherry instead. This recipe had been posted to Epicurious, and a comment by several people included a suggestion to chop up the shiitake mushrooms more than you think – the recipe says coarsely. I probably diced them and they were fine. They need to adhere to the chicken, and if they’re too big they simply won’t stay attached to the chicken when you brown the chicken in the skillet. I also added a bit of water to the sauce (to make more), then ended up sprinkling a smidge of flour into the sauce (from the breading pan) to help it thicken up. Don’t overcook the sauce – it’s better if the mushrooms still have some definition.
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2019: As I look at this recipe below, I think it can’t  possibly be correct. 1 cup of honey in a dressing is insane. If anyone decides to try this recipe, try it with 1 tablespoon of honey. Taste it and then see if it needs oil – surely it does. I’m no longer in touch with the friend who gave me this recipe, so I can’t ask her to look it up.

My salivary glands are in overdrive. In the window in which I type my posts, this picture looms large. More than life size. But that little nubbin of walnut sitting there on the side looks so real I could reach through the screen to tuck it in my mouth.

I met my friend Joan W. at the Long Beach Yacht Club the other day. Long Beach is about 30 miles west of where we live. Joan’s a member of the Yacht Club, so we occasionally meet there. She and I met in about 1995 at an NAIC (National Association of Investor’s Corp.) seminar – we’re both in investment clubs, and sat next to one another for the day while we learned all about how to use a specific software package called Toolkit, made for investment clubs, and for individual investors too. We’ve been friends ever since!

The salad bar and carving station are available every weekday at the Yacht Club, and it was wonderful. Joan told me I needed to try the broccoli salad, that it’s a favorite of hers. Sounded good to me. Oh my. Was this ever delicious. It’s the honey that is the wild card in this recipe. It’s a sweet salad, but somehow broccoli seems to be able to handle some sweet. Fortunately for me – and for you, my dear readers – Joan has the recipe, that was devised by the Yacht Club’s chef, Scott, a real winner of a recipe.

Cook’s Notes: Understand, please, that I haven’t made this, but I think I’d try this without candying the walnuts – it’s plenty sweet already. But I don’t want to detract a thing from Scott’s recipe. It’s a stunning one, and if you like the combo with the honey and sweet walnuts, go for it!
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As a card-carrying chocoholic, I will attest, these little numbers are too darned good. I ate a whole one plus a little piece of another just after baking. And it took all my will power to stay out of them. My advice: either don’t make them at all, or put the leftovers – immediately – into the freezer.

I was putting away recipe clippings the other day, and needed something to fix for DH’s Bible study group, and this recipe went into the “try immediately” stack. They came together easily, although I did dirty-up many a bowl getting them ready. I mixed up the dry ingredients the night before. I watched a demo on TV just the other day of a chef mixing in cold butter to flour. You do it by hand, just smashing the little pieces of butter and making those pieces smaller and smaller by sifting the mixture through your hands and pressing. It was fun, actually. Made a bit of a mess of my hands, but so what? Then you add the liquid ingredients (heavy cream and egg yolk), before kneading slightly into a big blob and pressing it out for cutting. I brushed the tops with heavy cream instead of milk, and I sprinkled the tops with just a tad of white sugar too. Were these good? Oh my yes. The recipe is from an issue of Bon Appetit in 2006, I believe, and is credited to The Balmoral Hotel near Edinburgh, Scotland, The Bollinger Bar at Palm Court.

Here are the scones before baking, brushed with cream and sprinkled with granulated sugar.
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