I’ve wanted to make this recipe so I could share it with you, but it never seemed to be the right menu for it. But I took dessert to friends the other night, and thought it would be perfect. This is an EASY recipe. You buy a store-bought angel food cake (or make your own if you’d prefer), mix up the filling/frosting, grate a bit of chocolate, toast some almonds and put it together. It probably took about 30 minutes to assemble, including toasting the nuts. The picture above doesn’t exactly show the layers – the lighting wasn’t good enough, I guess.

This is a Phillis Carey recipe, from a cooking class I took with her several years ago. The filling (which also is the frosting on the outside) has mascarpone cheese in it, with a whole lot of whipped cream, some cocoa and espresso powder, a bit of powdered sugar and Amaretto. You slice the cake into 3 layers, drizzle a little Amaretto on each layer, then put a cup of frosting between each with some grated chocolate, then slather the remaining around the top and outside. Then the toasted almonds are lightly pressed on the frosting. That’s it. Done. Be sure to refrigerate it for at least four hours before serving.

I’ve never made it with Cool-Whip, but am sure you could – and it might be just fine. This particular time I ended up buying mascarpone that had tiramisu flavoring in it (my mistake), so I added a small tub of Crème Fraiche to the mixture too. The recipe calls for 2/3 cup of powdered sugar – I think it’s way too much, but use your own judgment. If you made a from-scratch angel food cake, it would be larger than the store-bought ones, so you might want to spread the filling a little thinner (or make just a bit more of it). If you really wanted to be decadent, make a little chocolate sauce to drizzle on top. My DH doesn’t eat many desserts and his verdict was: “this is the best dessert you’ve ever made!” I disagree – there are some other desserts I’ve made that are perhaps better, but HE thought this was the best. He did his best to get as much of the leftovers as he possibly could!
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The first time I had posole was my first visit to Santa Fe, New Mexico. That was about about 20 years ago, I’d guess. It was a culinary tour, and the guide packed in 4 days of day and night eating, shopping, museums, tours and more food. It was heavenly fun. The food was out of this world. If you’ve ever had a food epiphany, then you can relate to what I felt on that trip. I realized I was truly enamored with Southwestern food.

I’d never even heard of posole (poh-so-leh) until that trip, and hence learned that traditionally it’s a pork and hominy stew, typical of that region. Likely you can find it in Texas too, probably Arizona as well. In the stores there you can buy posole mixes (yes, I bought one). Hominy isn’t something I buy at all – I bet I’ve only purchased it a couple of times in my life (canned). But hominy is a requirement for this recipe. However, I didn’t have any. What to do? I used garbanzo beans instead. Not exactly authentic, but close.

In my repertoire of recipes I found one for posole made with chicken, so it at least gave me the formation of this recipe since chicken was what I had defrosting for the evening meal. The soup came together in rapid order – maybe not quite 30 minutes, but almost.

The recipe I was reading suggested you add a can of enchilada sauce. Well, I didn’t have that either. So I made my own. Well, actually, I just added the ingredients to the soup. Then I added in my own tweaking here and there (chipotle chiles in adobo sauce, some powdered cocoa), and now I’ve got a new soup recipe for my collection. This soup was fantastic if I do say so myself.

Now, I will say, I used Penzey’s turkey soup base concentrate for this recipe. And, if you read my blog piece a few days ago, you know that I’m a huge fan of Penzey’s soup bases. And once again, it provided a delicious depth of character to what was a relatively simple soup. The spinach is added in at the last and is barely cooked. I used baby spinach, which made the bites manageable. If you buy regular spinach, you’d best chop it up a little.

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So, I was reading the blog post over at Accidental Hedonist, and immediately I was transported to about 1965. Allow me to set the stage  . . . I was about 23 years old. My first husband was an officer in the U.S. Navy (air). His air group was deployed on a carrier, and we’d made plans for me to travel for several months from country to country in Asia as I followed the ship around from port to port. It was my first international trip. I was a totally inexperienced traveler, besides being on my own abroad. The Vietnam War intervened, but I decided to continue the journey, even if I spent more time alone. First I went to Japan for a couple of months, and then on to the Philippines, where I met up with two other wives.The carrier carried on, and the three of us wives went to Hong Kong, a few days before a monsoon started, as part of our around-Asia special airline ticket. We stayed at the Hong Kong Hilton.

Let me just say that the two other wives were far more worldly than I. They’d both been PanAm stewardesses for some years before marrying their pilot husbands. I was (and am) a relatively shy-type not given much to reveling and drinking much alcohol, nor dancing with men I didn’t know (or even men I did know except my then husband). So, upon our arrival in Hong Kong, the other two wanted cocktails and dancing; I wanted some dinner and sleep. They went to the sky bar and I went to the small cafe near the lobby.

As the only occupant in the small cafe, I received exemplary service. I tried to understand the menu. It was in Chinese with just a few minimal words in English, German and a couple of other languages. Nothing appealed to me much, but there was this one spaghetti dish. The word bolognese was in it and I knew I’d seen that in Italian restaurants. The other word I didn’t recognize. But, it was quite inexpensive. So I ordered it. With great anticipation, the dish arrived and I dug in. Ewwwwh! It was chicken liver sauce on pasta. It was horrid. I tried a second bite of just the pasta I could manage to extract from the sticky, grainy sauce. Nope, it wouldn’t go down. Being on a very strict budget, I couldn’t order something else. I pushed the food around, drank some ice water and didn’t know what to say to the waiter when he came to my table and pointed at my plate, asking questions in what he thought was English. I couldn’t understand anything he said. I was too embarrassed to try to explain with more pointing or making screwed-up ugly faces.  I ate the saltine crackers on the table, and drank a second glass of water. Back then I was still testing the waters, so to speak, of international travel. I was very sensitive to my inability to speak the language.  Today I’d be in a financial position, thankfully, of saying I’ll order something else and do my level best to smile a lot and be pleasant. Do you have any similar experiences? I’d love to hear about them – leave a comment – click the link below. So, my advice: if you don’t understand a menu in a foreign country, ask questions.

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I was chatting with my friend Cherrie the other day (she and I spend some time always talking about food – what she’s making, what I’m making, restaurants, etc.) and she was telling me about how she made one of my lamb stew recipes that I’d posted awhile back. Then she said when she tasted it, it was blah. Blah, I thought? How can that be? The stew I made was absolutely fabulous with flavor. She’d made it exactly as written. The lamb was from Costco, just like mine. I had to contemplate that conundrum for a bit. How could two stews be so different in taste? The recipe wasn’t that complicated. Didn’t require any particularly unusual ingredients. Then a light went off in my head. It’s the broth. I’d put a fair slug of turkey broth concentrate in that stew that was almost like a soup.

Hence I’m posting about something that I had begun to take for granted. No longer.

Years ago, I used to buy those little cubes of chicken bouillon to flavor up things. That’s about all there was out there unless you made your own stock (which I’ve done, but don’t choose to make anymore except the day after Thanksgiving). Eventually you could buy loosely packed dry chicken broth granules (still can, I believe). Of course, you could buy canned broth too. But if you were making soup that needed 2 quarts, for instance, that was a heck of a lot of cans to buy and lug home, open and throw out. That’s why I preferred the granules. Then along came the little jars of hydrolyzed protein with a modicum of flavor. And lastly, the sealed, waxed boxes of broth, which I use regularly too. But the underlying problem – to me anyway – was the amount of sodium in all of these products. Even that stuff Better than Bouillon. Have you even looked at how much salt is in them? Salt is cheap – a whole lot cheaper than chicken meat or buying hydrolyzed protein, so of course, the “superior” minds (read: greedy) of American business, always looking out for our better health (right?) would use salt as the overriding flavor. Hey, if they can fool us into thinking it’s chicken broth, then they’ve made another product the unsuspecting homemaker and cook will buy.

Some years ago I read a story about hydrolyzed protein and wasn’t all that thrilled with the process and what products made with it might do to our bodies. So generally I used the cardboard boxes of broth or the loose granules. For a lot of years that’s what I did. And it was only a few months ago that I read about Wolfgang Puck’s own brand of broth that was noticed by either food magazines, or Cook’s Illustrated, or maybe it was Consumer Reports. I don’t remember now, but whatever I read indicated Wolfgang’s was really good. So I’ve been using that too (it’s expensive, so I don’t use it for just anything).

Meanwhile, I decided to try some of Penzey’s soup bases. They do not contain hydrolyzed protein (yea!). The first ingredient on the chicken base (my most used one) is “cooked chicken meat.” Well, it’s about time somebody decided to give us what we want – the main ingredient is chicken! I’ve come to rely on these jars of concentrated broth. I merely dip my small spoons into the chicken goop and pull out a little dab and add to whatever I’m cooking. I never measure – I just use a clean spoon. I use it anytime I need broth and merely add water. They do require you to store them in the refrigerator once opened. That’s about the only down side to these. (And in all fairness, I will state that the second ingredient is salt. At least it’s not the first one.)

At the moment I own three of them (chicken, turkey and seafood). In my next order to Penzey’s, I’m ordering beef and vegetable too. So, if you have come to trust me – may I recommend to you that you click over to PENZEY’S and place an order for these SOUP BASES. DO IT NOW! And while you’re at it, try some of their Korintje or Vietnamese cinnamon too. And cumin. And garlic  (the most recent catalog had a write-up about how the Penzey’s folks finally found a garlic grower willing to do what Penzey’s has wanted forever – somebody to cut OFF the little brown stem part). I use fresh garlic almost all the time, but I may order some of this dry garlic just to try it. And just in case you don’t know me very well – no, I’m not getting paid by Penzey’s to tout their stuff. I simply believe in their products and have been nothing but happy with everything I’ve ordered from them. You likely will be too. And whenever you make anything that requires broth, I think you’ll be amazed at the flavor! In a recent Cook’s Illustrated or Cook’s Country, Penzey’s chili powder did not fare well. Number one winner there was Spice Islands.

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My refrigerator was filled with leftovers. You know the feeling? It seemed like every nook and cranny of my refrigerator was crammed with little round and square plastic containers. My DH loves leftovers (thankfully) and is very happy to have a meal with nothing but little dishes of this and that. So only a few of them end up in the garbage disposal. And even though I love to cook, and enjoy sharing my recipes here on this blog, there are still evenings when I simply don’t feel like cooking. Some of those times I don’t want to cook AT ALL, so we go out. But like the other evening . . . I had some of the moist leftover chicken remaining from the delish roast chicken (the one that Martha thinks the potatoes are better than the chicken – remember that one?). It was a warm evening. What sounded good was a salad. But I didn’t want to start from scratch hunting for some new recipe. What I was craving was a Phillis Carey recipe. Her Mexican Chopped Salad to be exact. But I’ve already blogged about that one. You see, as a food blogger (and likely many food bloggers have the same “problem”) I’m always looking for a “new” recipe to write up. I still have plenty of recipes of my own collection that haven’t made it up on these pages yet, but I didn’t have any chicken SALAD recipes that haven’t already been posted. So, what to do? Well, I decided to make Phillis’ salad as best I could – and remind you how tasty it is.

Unfortunately I didn’t have all the ingredients, and I wasn’t willing to make a trip to the store. But I DID have the ingredients for the dressing, which is what makes this salad anyway. So, I pulled nearly everything out of the crisper and composed a salad. The only ingredients I really wished I’d had were fresh corn and radishes. Corn, particularly, adds so much (to me anyway) to a main entrée salad. So, I’m going to give you the dressing recipe again. If you want to see the full recipe – the original – click on the link above.

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My DH went to a football game a week ago Sunday. The Chargers, in San Diego. He had a great time with the guys, all family. Initially, though, the group met in the parking lot for a lunchtime tailgate party. Dave didn’t have to bring a thing. There was food galore, of course. And early-on he spotted a big container of pickled carrots. His heart raced a little bit. Hmmm. Maybe carrots like the recipe we’ve been coveting but can’t get. It looked like them – with onions, garlic and jalapeno chiles swimming in the pickling liquid. We’ve wanted the recipe for the home made pickled carrots at our neighborhood Mexican restaurant, Jalapeno’s. They won’t tell anybody anything about the prized family recipe. Even the local paper asked and was refused.

So, Dave tasted. Wow. They were great. He started asking around – who made these carrots? Finally found him – Doug – he’s made them himself for over 30 years. Didn’t remember where he got the recipe. But he gladly shared it with Dave.

The second thing Dave told me when he got home was, “I think I’ve got the recipe for Jalapeno’s carrots!” (The first thing was the abysmal score.) He knew I’d be delighted to hear about the carrots. Indeed. As Dave rattled off the brief recipe, I quickly jotted it down. Dave went out and got the ingredients earlier in the week, but I wanted him to help me make them – just in case he had forgotten anything about the recipe. Sure enough, he forgot the sugar, so that was added. And, salt wasn’t mentioned, so I added that in myself.

Are they good? Absolutely they are. I’m going to tweak the recipe a little bit next time we make them – less of the jalapeno pickling liquid (I like heat, but these were too hot for my taste) – probably more sugar. But the method will be identical. We did learn that slicing the carrots a consistent depth is important (we used the mandoline for most of them) – I’m only guessing at the ¼ inch thickness. Doug sliced them lengthwise in planks. Jalapeno’s slices them in coins. Take your pick!

Here’s how they’re made: you parboil the carrots and onions. Don’t overcook them, though. Then you combine them with some of the juice from a can of pickled jalapenos. Just the juice. And maybe one or two of the pickled jalapenos themselves. And garlic. And Mexican oregano. Now Doug told Dave that buying Mexican oregano was the secret to the brine. Nothing else will do. And not to EVER be tempted to try Greek or Italian or any other type of oregano. Mexican oregano has a different aroma, and it usually includes lots of the flower pods too. Dave had to try two or three stores to find it the other day. Nearly a quart of white vinegar is added, and some water. You refrigerate it overnight, then serve. Whoopee! You’ll find notes in the recipe below about the changes I’ll make the next time I make these. Doug’s recipe was rather loosely verbalized, so we’ll tweak it as we go. And yes, we’ll make them again! Doug did remind us that the jalapenos vary (just as they do when fresh) – sometimes they’re hotter than others – so naturally the pickling liquid can be hotter one time than another. So unless you really love heat, use less rather than more until you test your tongue!
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My happiest moment is when I prepare a glass of hot, strong tea, and then sit down with it to read, think or write a letter. I’ve become a fanatical devotee of Earl Grey, which in England, as everyone knows, is consumed only by little old ladies during afternoon tea parties, and which the English tea lover scorns as a perfumed, old-maidenish drink. …Václav Havel, Letters to Olga  

Ha! Havel bucked tradition in many things – not just tea, but the politics of his country (he was the first elected president of the Czech Republic and the above line is from a letter he wrote to his wife, Olga; he died in 1992). 

I was so happy the other morning – it was cool enough at about 10 am that I craved a pot of Earl Grey tea. The scent of the oil of bergamot in Earl Grey is what draws me to it. And I drink it with both milk and sweetener. The house still had that chilly edge. It’s been unseasonably cool here in Southern California for the last week (thank you, Lord!). Normally September is our hottest month, and I dread it. Our summer has been unusually humid – most mornings the humidity is up in the 80-90% range. The dense air dries out a bit later in the day, but we’re just not used to this sweating routine. I mean – we’re dry, desert terrain, you know? But when the weatherman said we’d be having temps in the 60’s and 70’s for a few days, I didn’t believe him. But he was right. I l-oved it. Every minute of it. Weather for a cuppa.  So, Mr. Havel, I salute you.

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When I saw this roast chicken being prepared on Martha’s TV show the other day, it just made my mouth water. Usually a sign that I need to cook that dish. Roast chicken is so easy. And it was. The recipe comes from Jean-Georges Vonderichten, the famous chef. Martha was rapturous about the potatoes, but I thought the chicken was pretty good too. Not off the charts unusual, but it was very good. I’m always willing to try some new method of chicken, aren’t you?

What’s different about this chicken is that it’s laid on top of a bed of chunked-up peeled potatoes. The bird is put on her side. And she’s stuffed with half of a HEAD of garlic, some fresh herbs, the chicken liver, and she’s baked high – 450 – for about an hour or more. She gets turned on her other side after 20 minutes, then laid onto her back for the final roasting. She’s golden brown by that time (not surprising at that temp). The meat – including the breast meat – was succulent and moist. That’s always my test of a good roast chicken. And the potatoes. Well, what can I say. They were delicious but not memorable, but then most vegetables rolled around with butter, oil and the fat from a chicken will become nicely browned and delicious too.

Following the recipe was easy – there’s not that much to it – potatoes, some oil and butter, and the stuffed chicken. I put about 2 T. oil and butter in the roasting pan for the potatoes, and I slathered a bit of oil on the bird (no butter). I just couldn’t quite bring myself to use more than that.
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As I opened up my kitchen drawer yesterday (pictured above), the drawer closest to my cook top, it occurred to me that maybe I should explain again what Tasting Spoons is all about. Not my philosophy. You can figure that out! It’s about where the name came from. So gather ’round my cherubs and listen to the story. Some of you know it or have read it before. I’m nostalgic today, so the story is worth repeating, but in a bit more detail.

My DH (dear husband Dave) and I both are only children. Neither of us felt deprived as we grew up – how could we, with our parents’ undivided attention – maybe sad for our children that they don’t have aunts and uncles – but it is what it is. Dave’s dad passed away many years ago – years before I met Dave in 1981. His dear mother died in the mid-1990’s, back in his home town of Ocean City, New Jersey. With help from a cousin and friend, we went through her household of stuff and decided what to keep, what to ship, what to give away. We shipped a variety of kitchen things and dishes. And we kept all of her silver. She had a couple of sets (plate and sterling). And a bunch of old family silverware pieces – some that are so large they’re unwieldy to use, and they must be silver plate since all the shiny silver is gone. Likely I’ll never use them, but we’ll pass them on to our kids and let them decide what to do with them.

But, in with the myriad of pieces in one silverware chest I found some small, delicate spoons. With various engraved initials in flowing script – some we can’t descern the letters, they’re so engraved with flourish. They’re likely tea spoons. There are a couple of different types and most of them were well used with dents and scratches. Most were unattractive because the silver was spotty in places. They are sterling, because they have the sterling mark on the backs, but they’re very light weight and pliable. I don’t know enough about the chemistry of sterling silver flatware to understand. Most sterling is very heavy. Maybe somebody reading this will enlighten me.

So, jump forward about ten years. Dave’s mother’s sister Louise passed away. She lived in Gloucester, Massachusetts, and had no children. Nevertheless, we were surprised to learn that Dave was her heir. She had married quite late in life, but divorced when she was in her late 60’s, I think it was. Prior to and after the divorce she was close with her former step-children and their children. But then, her ex, at about age 89 or so, remarried the maid. The maid that Louise had hired when she “ran” the house. The family was a bit torn – they cared for Louise – but the family wealth had come from the ex, the blueblood patriarch of the family, so the children and adult grandchildren weren’t about to snub this new “grandmother.” And Louise, after all, was a step-mum or step-grandmother herself. Thus began a saga worthy of a soap opera.

Louise had planned to leave her estate to the grandchildren, but prior to a family baby shower the new wife, the maid, was invited (she was, after all, married to the grandfather of the family and was taking care of the crotchety old guy). Louise got her back up. A big snit followed and Louise refused to go to any further family gatherings if “that woman” was going to be there. The family said yes, she was going to be included.  Louise believed these family members were traitors to her. No amount of talking or discussing would change her mind, apparently. She gnawed on it until it ate a hole in her soul, I’m afraid. So, she changed her will (and didn’t mention it to Dave). And had planned to change it more and remove all the grandchildren from her will, but hadn’t done it officially. Some of those grandchildren did get a small bequest. As her only blood relative, Dave inherited what was left of her estate, with bequests to both of his children too. Her household stuff, furniture, and some stocks and bonds. We were surprised and grateful. Some of those ex-relatives attended the memorial service (slipping in late and leaving early). Likely Louise was screaming from the heavens to refuse them admittance. Some were noticeably absent. What wicked webs we weave sometimes, eh?

So, once again, we traveled to the east coast and sorted and purged and planned the memorial service (which she specifically didn’t want, but her close friends pleaded with us to do it anyway – for them they said, so we did). Most everything was handled by an attorney/executor. We stayed at Louise’s home for a few days while we decided what was worth saving, shipping, etc. Our son got a lovely old table. We couldn’t actually pack anything – the executor was quite officious about it all because the house she was living in belonged to Louise’s ex-husband. But he’d died at about age 101, so it belonged to the family estate.

It was a lovely home, with a gorgeous view of the inlet and marsh near Gloucester. The ex had to buy the house for her as part of the divorce and she was allowed to live in it until her death, then it reverted to him or his estate. So anyway, Dave and I marked things and moved them into a separate pile to be shipped. A variety of art (mostly original watercolors) was included too. And a lovely antique music box from Austria that Louise bought in Vienna on her honeymoon, she said. We didn’t get one painting that I really wanted because Louise’s attorney insisted it had been promised to her, even though it wasn’t in the will. (The attorney’s partner was the executor, and he ruled in her favor.) My DH is quite partial to all of the paintings, some likely worth something to a knowing buyer, I suppose. And, we also earmarked Louise’s silver. It wasn’t until the shipment arrived (months and months later after probate was completed) that I discovered a bunch of spoons in one of the chests. I was tickled pink. I put them with the others and found many similar ones to Dave’s mother’s. They must have been from the two sister’s parents and their families. But these spoons had been replated, so they’re sparkly shiny and in excellent condition. Those are the ones I use most of the time. I polish them every few months and try not to dip them in egg or tarnish producing mayo.

I use these spoons every single day. Or, every single day that I cook. They’re right handy by the stove. The spoons are used and treasured, and I think about Dave’s mother Helen and his Aunt Louise nearly every time I reach for one. I’m certain they’d both be very happy that they’re being appreciated. And that they’d become the namesake of my blog.

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Do you have a bunch of basil plants nearing their wilting end? I never know what to do with copious amounts of basil, except for pesto, so here’s your chance. Read on . . .

It’s only been a month or so that I’ve been Tivo-ing Martha Stewart’s TV show. Considering all the problems she’s had over the last several years, her short prison sentence, losing her job as CEO of Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia, Martha perseveres. And that woman’s got talent, I must say. Sometimes she stumbles a bit (whether it’s from the teleprompter or just forgetting her lines I don’t know), over one thing or another, but she has managed to get a whole lot of chefs to come on her show. Not so many Hollywood stars or starlets (although she gets a fair number of those too). They’ve been doing re-runs over the summer, I guess, but likely they chose the best shows to run again.

So, one day this week she had several French chefs on board, all cooking in her roomy back kitchen, and one by one they came out to the front kitchen to cook with Martha. Another thing Martha has is lots of kitchen skills. So I have to laugh when she takes the sous-chef role and the chefs tell her what to do. My guess is Martha’s got a lot of management skills too. Seems to me I read that while she was in prison she wrote notebook after notebook of ideas for her houses and the tv/radio shows. Most likely Martha’s got those kind of brain cells that just work in overdrive. I used to read her blog, but got overloaded on composts and crafts. Some of her photos were interesting, though. Now, somebody else is CEO of Martha’s company. I continue to wonder (wish I could be a little fly in the board room) how the board and CEO share the helm with Martha’s commanding presence in the background. The shareholders wanted her ousted after she was under suspicion. Maybe one day she’ll be promoted back to CEO.

But, I digressed there. Two of the chefs on the show did chicken and one did salmon. I printed out two of those, and also this spinach and basil side dish that sounded so different. You know me, if you put some food items together that don’t traditionally go together, I’m intrigued. As I was with this recipe. Tomorrow I’ll post the recipe for the chicken. Both of these recipes are from Jean-Georges Vonderichten, the rather famous chef of about 17 restaurants worldwide (notably New York and Las Vegas). He was born in the Alsace (the German edge of eastern France) and started cooking at a young age.

Confession time: I made a whole bunch of changes to this recipe, but it was really delicious. And yes, I’ll make it again. It’s easy – and you could do this for a company meal since you can get everything ready ahead of time (except chopping the basil). It doesn’t take but a few minutes to cook. I will indicate my changes in the recipe, but I’ll give you the chef’s recipe as it was shown.

This calls for equal quantities of spinach and basil. You might think that putting that much basil with a vegetable would overwhelm, but it didn’t. Of course, I didn’t use as much as the recipe indicated either, but the basil moves from co-star billing to bit part once it’s cooked. You can tell there’s basil in it, but that’s all. And the cream gives it a lovely softness.
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