Pears in Salad

Red Anjou Pear

As a kid, I was never a big fan of pears; something about the slightly gritty texture threw me off. As an adult, though, I am a real fan, although one bad pear will make me pear-averse for days. In the past, I ate pears mainly as a snack or as dessert, but more recently I have begun putting them into green salads.

This week, I made an arugula salad with pears, walnuts, and blue cheese, and it was so good that it was my entire meal. Today, the arugula looked limp, so I used mixed greens—mainly romaine—and left out the nuts, because I had eaten them all. I enjoyed this dish just as much as the first. There is something about the combination of creamy pears, blue cheese, scallions, and crunchy greens that steals my heart and delights my palate. I dress the salad simply: 2 parts oil, one part balsamic vinegar, a dash of garlic salt, regular salt, and a grind of pepper.

So far, I have used the juicier types of pears, such as Bartlett, Comice and a new type called Taylor Gold.  Next week, I'll try Anjou and Bosc pears. These are more commonly used for cooking, but who knows, maybe they too will be a good addition to salads.

Creamed Onions—Love 'Em or Not?

pearl onions used to make this dish

For me and one daughter, at least, Thanksgiving dinner would seem impoverished if it lacked creamed onions. My son, however, gamely tastes them each year and shudders slightly. Are creamed onions an acquired taste, I wonder. In a group of eight people, I mentioned that I was making this dish for Thanksgiving dinner, and half the people in the group chimed in that they loved it; the rest shook their heads and made yuk faces.

Oddly enough, my creamed onions don't even have cream in them. I make a white sauce using  a half-and-half combination of onion water and milk. I add this to a roux made of butter and flour. Then I add a bit of grated cheese. The crumb topping is made of buttered breadcrumbs with just a dash of grated Parmesan. Still, it is a richly flavored dish with numerous textures.

Creamed onions is the only dish that I make using pearl onions. In the past, I have tried these small orbs in other dishes and been less than satisfied. They seemed slippery and hard to eat. However, a quick browse through some online recipes made me think I should try again. Anyone out there have a favorite recipe to share?

Behold the Beautiful Cranberry

Although I bemoan summer's passing, I look forward to autumnal foods, especially cranberries. I love these ruby-colored fruits, both as a photographer and as a cook.  When I was a kid, we used to have two types of cranberry sauce on the table: jellied and whole berry. I prefer the whole-berry type, and unless I'm having a very large crowd, that's the only kind I serve on Thanksgiving.

Whole-berry sauce is one of the easiest foods to cook. Simply wash the berries and pick out the wrinkled weirdos. Then add about a cup of liquid, 3/4 cup of sugar, and a pinch of salt. Bring to a boil and reduce the heat. Let simmer until all the berries burst, about 10 minutes. Then let cool.

I really like the combination of orange with cranberry, so I use orange juice for all or part of the liquid. I also add the orange zest, chopped up, to the berries as they start to cook. If I have a lemon, I might add a bit of that as well.

Cranberry-orange sauce is not only great with turkey, but also with pork, chicken, and biscuity types of breads, including scones. Because it's so easy to make, I usually keep some on hand for most of the autumn and winter. Many people swear that it helps keep them healthy, since the berries are high in fiber, Vitamin C, and other nutrients. Be that as it may, I like it for its look and tart-sweet flavor. It brightens up the table and the taste buds.

Comforting Cauliflower

For some reason, this time of year makes me crave cauliflower. I noticed that the last posting I did on cauliflower was early fall in 2012. Maybe the cold weather makes me want comfort foods. Cauliflower has all the ingredients of a good comfort food: it's bland, nearly colorless (I have not tried the purple, green, or yellow varieties and probably won't), and pairs well with other foods. Its meaty texture (if not overcooked) allows it to shine as a satisfying main course.

Last year, I gave readers the fastest recipe, one that I use often. This time I'm going to give you the most comforting recipe, cauliflower and cheese sauce. To my mind, roasting the vegetable first rather than boiling or steaming it gives it a superior texture. Break the head up into florets, toss them with a Tbsp. of olive oil, and bake at 425 for 20-30 minutes, turning once or twice. The florets should be lightly browned and tender. Then pour them into a shallow casserole or pan, and make a cream sauce using 2 Tbsp. butter, 2 Tbsp. flour, a cup of milk, and salt and pepper to taste. (Melt the butter, stir in the flour, let cook a minute, then remove from the heat and gradually beat in the milk. Return to the heat and stir until thickened. Add salt and pepper to taste.) I usually add a bit of mustard and paprika as well.

After the cream sauce has thickened, add about 3/4 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese. Stir until the cheese melts, then pour this sauce evenly over the cauliflower. Reduce the oven temperature to 400. Sprinkle 1/4 panko bread crumbs over the top and and bake until bubbly and hot. If the crumbs aren't browned, run them under a broiler for a few minutes. Be careful not to burn them, but toasting them lightly adds a nice crunch.

Serve either as a main course or as a side dish. Baking the sauce with the vegetable and crumbs adds a nice toasted cheese taste and texture to the dish, as well a satisfying crunch. I've never been a huge mac and cheese fan, but I think the reason is because I had this dish instead.

By the way, if you don't have the ingredients for cheese sauce, you can always substitute Stouffer's welsh rarebit, but you may want to thin it a bit with milk.

Youth Without Pasta

I never ate pasta as a youngster. "Pasta" did not exist as a food name. I ate noodles in chicken soup and in kugel; I ate macaroni with cheese; I ate spaghetti and meatballs; and that was about the extent of it. I never tried lasagna until I dated a man who loved the lasagna served at a restaurant near Amherst College. I never tasted homemade pasta until I joined a dinner group as an adult. And I avoided ravioli until recently, because I thought it was an invention of Chef Boyardee.

So many wasted years!

Although I still don't order pasta at restaurants (because I prefer to order complicated dishes that I don't usually eat), I have it often at home. This week, my daughter gave me some penne, chicken, and broccoli she had made.  A few days later, I made myself some chicken florentine ravioli with roasted tomato sauce. And last week I had fettuccine with shrimp, artichoke hearts, and peas.

These dishes have several features in common: they are relatively quick to make; they are inexpensive; they are very tasty and satisfying; they don't require a trip to the store for special ingredients. I always have something in my freezer or cupboard that I can pair with pasta. Also, pasta—like pizza—is a good way to use up odds and ends. Two mushrooms alone aren't good for much, but they make a great addition to most pasta sauces. So does a teaspoon of capers, or a few stalks of asparagus.

About once a month, I try some new pasta. Last month, it was Buitoni's Wild Mushroom Agnolotti. How bad could it be, I thought. Well, it was so good that I wrote them an unsolicited letter, extolling the virtues of this previously-unknown food. I had served it with a very simple tomato sauce plus some freshly grated Parmesan cheese. It tasted as if I had slaved over the stove for hours. I wished I had bought more than one package.

No one knows for sure how many different types of pasta exist. Some sources say 10; some say 150; one said 600. If the last number is true, I'm going to have years of experimenting. I can hardly wait.

Versatile Cabbage

the type of cabbage I grew up with

A friend stopped by this week bearing a large, gorgeous head of cabbage. It was a gift bought at a Polish farm stand, where my friend had gone to buy sausage. Mine was one of the smaller cabbages, my friend said, and one of the few she could lift and carry easily. I was thrilled.

I grew up eating cabbage both raw and cooked. Raw cabbage was made into coleslaw, a dish I have yet to master, and sauerkraut. Cooked cabbage was served braised ( I published a recipe for braised red cabbage last year), steamed, or made into two similar dishes: sweet and sour cabbage soup and stuffed cabbage.

Both of these dishes came from my mother's side of the family. These relatives had come to the United States around the turn of century, to escape anti-Jewish pogroms in Eastern Europe and Russia. The soup and stuffed cabbage were very tasty and used little meat, thus allowing a poor family to serve many people inexpensively. I haven't made my mother's soup in years, mainly because I prefer the stuffed cabbage, and the two dishes are similar, so why make both. When my mother made her soup, she used something called sour salt, an ingredient that I have seldom seen in anyone else's kitchen. Today, you can buy it online. I use lemon juice instead.

The recipe for stuffed cabbage is long and involved, so I won't print it. Instead, I will include a link to  a recipe similar to mine. One main difference is that after I have removed the larger outside leaves from the head of cabbage, I shred the inner leaves and make a bed of them for the cabbage rolls to lie on. (With a head of cabbage as large as my gift one, this might not work, so I may have leftover cabbage, which I can use in borscht.) Also, after the cabbage leaves have been separated from the head, and before rolling, cut out the thick vein from the stem end of the leaves to make rolling easier.

I adore good stuffed cabbage; it's one of those complete foods, containing vegetables, meat, and starch. This recipe makes quite a bit, but it does freeze well. Just leave plenty of time to make it. Steaming the entire head of cabbage, pulling off a few outer leaves and then repeating the process enough times to get 20 or so good-sized leaves takes quite a bit of time. Once that's done, though, everything moves relatively quickly.

Tools of the Trade: Knives

When I was a kid, my father would begin many dinners by standing at the dining room table, brandishing a long knife and a sword-shaped sharpening steel. He would quickly run the blade along the steel and then proceed to carve the meat, while the rest of us watched impatiently.

Knives played a large part in our kitchen. We had a giant butcher block counter along one wall, as well as a large assortment of knives. Some of the knives had been handed down from my father's grandfather, and I have two of them still.

Although I have a food processor and use it for quantity cooking, I use it very infrequently. I actually enjoy cutting and chopping food. First, I select the correct knife for the task: paring, boning, slicing, chopping, or carving. Using the right knife is probably what makes the task enjoyable. It's hard to bone a chicken with a paring knife, and it would be impossible to slice ham well with a boning knife.

I never cut on hard surfaces but use my knives on a wooden board, despite some rather dire warnings from family members. (They feared I would poison everyone if I didn't use plastic, which they thought was more hygienic. Science is now on my side, and wood is considered perfectly safe if kept clean.) Afterwards, if the knife is one of my carbon steel ones, I wash it immediately and then dry it. Only my stainless steel knives with plastic handles go into the dishwasher.

I tried using a drawer with slots for each knife, but I have way too many knives and I'm just not organized enough. So I keep them all higgelty-piggelty in a drawer. Although I keep them nice and sharp, I rarely cut myself.

A good knife lasts for years, and some of mine have lasted for generations. I have three or four favorites that I use every single day. A few, like my carving set, are used only once a year or so, but I welcome it like an old friend.