Happy Halloween/All Saints Day

 

Happy Halloween, All Saints Day, and Leftover Pumpkin Innards Day (the latter is a personal holiday I observe.) Tomorrow, I bring you a recipe for Melt-Your-Face-Off Chili. Today, light up yesterday's Jack-o-Lantern, roast some pumpkin seeds, and watch the horror movies you couldn't squeeze in yesteray. 

Ah. I love fall.

Easy as (tamale) pie

 

My lunch has been causing a sensation in the break room for the past two days. Every time I sit down, at handful of people circle my chair and coo, "Oooh, what is that?" I swear, it's just something you throw together: cornmeal, beans, onion, a pepper, and tomatoes. You know, those boring ingredients that populate the pantry and lurk in the crisper. But when they come together, you have some seriously filling, tummy-warming comfort food. Mmm. 

The thing I love about this dish is the sweetness. Once the peppers, onions, and tomatoes simmer together, they meld into something as mellow as baked beans or candied yams -- without so much as a teaspoon of sugar. At that point, all it needs is a dose of chili powder, a blanket of smooth cornmeal, and a few minutes to crisp up in the oven.

Sometimes the best things in life are easy, they come together quickly and almost on their own. Like magic, or fate, or...a tamale-style pie.


Easy-peasy Tamale Pie

• 1 cup course-grind corn meal
• 2 cups cooked beans (red, white, pinto) with a few spoonfulls of liquid reserved
• 1 small yellow onion, diced
  
• 1 medium green tomato, diced
• 1 small sweet pepper (red, yellow, orange) diced
  
• 1 small can of plain tomato sauce
  
• 2 Tb. butter or olive oil
  
• sea salt
• red pepper flakes
• 2 tsp. Mexican chili powder
• 1/2 cup shredded cheddar cheese (optional)

Heat a tablespoon of butter in a skillet over medium heat, and saute the onions and pepper until they're soft and almost translucent. While those veggies cook, bring four cups of water to a boil in a small saucepan. 

When the water boils, add the cornmeal. Stir the cornmeal slowly and constantly, until the mixture begins to boil again. Toss in a pinch of sea salt and some red pepper flakes. The polenta should thicken within five minutes. When it does, remove the saucepan from heat and set it aside. 

Add another tablespoon of butter to the skillet and toss in the diced tomato, chili powder, and the beans. Pour the tomato sauce over the filling, reduce the burner heat, and let everything simmer for a few minutes. At this point, I usually add more water if the filling starts to look dry. 


Remove the filling from heat, then spread the polenta over the beans, leaving no gaps. Coat everything with a sprinkle of cheese, and bake the pie for 20 minutes in a 350 degree oven. Voila!

A fine pie and a stand-up guy

Two weekends ago, my husband got a call.

He learned that, after a lengthy fight with cancer, his Grandpa Lawrence had finally put up his boxing gloves and stepped into the next adventure. Lawrence was so beloved by his children that my husband, Raymond Lawrence, carries his name.

Larry carves a Thanksgiving turkey in Ulysses, Ks

By his own account, Larry, or simply "Grandpa" or "Daddy" -- that's what my in-laws and I called him -- was ready to go. He believed in God and Heaven, and would tell us that he was ready to see his wife, Wanda, who went on before him. Of course we miss him. He was Raymond's last living grandparent. Though I don't claim to have the last word on what happens when we die, I can't help but get excited about where he went.  I imagine him dancing with Wanda in a heavenly dance hall, under a glittering disco ball, while the real Hank Williams Sr. plays his favorite songs. What a party!

The photos scattered through this post came from Thanksgiving in 2006, the first time I met Grandpa Larry in person. I'd been dating his grandson for five years, and I was nervous about meeting him. He'd been a turkey farmer for much of his adult life, self-sufficient, accustomed to living a rural life in eastern Colorado. At the time, I was a student at a small liberal arts college, a practicing vegetarian, with dreams of living in a "decent-sized" city like Chicago or New York. What if he wrote me off as a crazy hippie and didn't like me? I baked a traditional-style apple pie to share, to show that even vegetarians can make Thanksgiving dishes, and we toted that pie across Kansas for the feast.

A wind farm in Kansas, west of Greensburg

Well, I needn't have worried. The pie "did just fine," but, more importantly, Larry didn't care much that I was different than him. He took a shine to me as quickly as Raymond's parents did, and we got along well. I learned that, even though he was a tough little cowpoke, he was also kind and generous. And that he loved his family and his black poodle dog, Maggie. She followed him everywhere. Larry enjoyed good jokes and home-cooked dinners, and once, when he had a windfall of money to spend, he "went crazy" and bought a brand-new toaster. What a stand-up guy. Grandpa Larry, this pie is for you. I hope you're cuttin' a rug up in Heaven.

Apple pie with cranberries

serves 6

crust:

• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
• 1/4 cup ground flax
• 3/4 tsp. salt
• 2/3 cup cold, unsalted butter
• 8 to 10 Tb. cold water in a small bowl
  

filling:

• 6 cups thinly sliced, unpeeled Granny Smith apples
• 1 Tb. lemon juice
• 3/4 cup turbinado sugar
• 1 Tb. all-purpose flour (optional)
• 1 tsp. ground cinnamon
• 1/2 tsp. nutmeg
• 1/2 cup dried cranberries
• milk (optional) 
• sugar (optional)
• 1 large paper grocery bag
  

Preheat your oven to 375 degrees, and set a baking rack in the middle of the oven. Place the water bowl in the freezer to get good and cold. In the meantime, slice your apples thinly (I cut mine into crescents no thicker than 1/2 and inch.) Toss the apples and cranberries into a large bowl, and top the fruit with sugar, lemon juice, cinnamon, flour, and nutmeg. Use a large spoon to coat the apples evenly with the sugar mixture, and set the filling aside.

Cut the butter into small cubes, then mix the butter, flours, salt, and flax in a small bowl. Using a pastry cutter, mash the butter into the flours until the pieces are pea-sized. Sprinkle a spoonful of cold water over the dough, then toss everything gently with a fork. Repeat this process, one spoonful of water at a time, until the dough is moistened. The less you handle this dough, the flakier it will be. Divide the dough in half, and form each half into a ball.

Flatten each ball on a lightly floured surface, and roll the dough from the center to the edges into a 12" diameter circle. To transfer the dough to the pie plate, roll it gently around the rolling pin, and dust the dough occasionally with flour. Prick the bottom crust with the tines of a fork, and trim the excess dough.

Fill the pie with apple mixture, cover the pie with a blanket of dough, and cut some decorative holes in the top crust. My grandmother likes to cut her extra dough trimmings into autumn leaves. She affixes each leaf to the pie by scoring the leaf and crust, by using milk as slip, as if the pie were pottery. Trim any extra crust and brush the top of the cake with milk, then sprinkle with sugar.

This next trick comes from my father-in-law, Sam, who can bake pies and biscuits that would make Betty Crocker weep with joy: slide the entire pie into a paper bag, and lie the bag (on its side) on a cookie sheet. Gently tuck the bag top under the pie, and scoot the pie onto your prepared baking rack. Bake the pie for 40 minutes, remove the paper bag -- carefully, with potholders-- then bake the pie for 20 more minutes, until the crust is brown and the filling is bubbly.

Cool the pie on a wire rack for 20 minutes, then serve warm, with vanilla ice cream. This particular pie is excellent the next day for breakfast, served warm with a slice of cheddar cheese.

David and the squash

So there's this guy....

He's handsome, his cooking induces swooning, and his eyes light up every time he sees me. It's not too early to say that I love him, even though he's old enough to be my father. His name is David, and he's the resident food sampler at my nearby Zupan's Market.

David's job is a food enthusiast's dream: he gets to create masterful recipes using seasonal foods Zupans has in stock, and then spends the day offering customers samples, recipes, and plenty of food gossip. He even gets to wear a name tag that says, "David: foodie." (I would adore owning such a name tag...)

Almost every time I enter Zupans (which is at least three times a week), David's there with a warm greeting and a new dish that changes with the season. In the summer, I munched on apple-and-Spanish manchego salad and mahi-mahi with Asian slaw; more recently, he's sampled crostini with chanterelles and hazelnut chèvre. David is singly responsible for my new love of aged manchego, red curry sauce, and Fleur de Seul.

And, because of an encounter last week, he has rekindled my affection for butternut squash.



David had turned a batch of Portland-grown butternut squash into a savory, sophisticated experience. It was not soup, it was not baked with brown sugar. It was a gratin.

"This dish is fall. It just screams 'fall!'" David exclaimed as he handed me a sample. "The butternut squash with the creamy goat cheese, the hazelnuts.... it just captures everything about fall." He beamed over the display table and confided that one of the pastry section workers had come back for thirds already (a boast which the pastry worker quickly denied.) I am blessed to know a man who gets so worked up over squash.

David described the process to me:you roast the squash in olive oil, saute leeks, layer in goat cheese, and top the whole thing off with heavy cream -- I actually gasped when he mentioned the heavy cream.

"Yes! Heavy cream!" he said. "You don't want to shy away from the fat!"

"Not when it's called gratin," I said.

He nodded. "You can't expect anything low-cal. You've got to enjoy this stuff."

And enjoy it I did. How could I not, when the squash melted into soft, feta-infused layers in my mouth? I think the dish is warm and filling enough to be a main-dish attraction, but David says you ain't been to heaven 'till you've tried this gratin with some chicken-apple sausages.



The only real substitutions I made were: 1/2 & 1/2 for heavy whipping cream, crumbled French feta for soft goat cheese, thyme for sage, and walnuts for Oregon hazelnuts. That's practically nothing! Whether you keep David's original line-up or try my substitutions, this dish is love at first sight.

Butternut Squash Gratin
adapted from David's recipe, "Butternut Squash Gratin with Goat Cheese and Hazelnuts"
serves 5

• 2 lb. butternut squash, peeled, seeded, and cut into 3/4-inch cubes (4 cups)
• 1 Tb. olive oil
• coarse kosher salt
• 2 Tb. butter
• 1 1/2 cups sliced leeks (white and pale green parts only)
• 1 tsp. fresh thyme
  
• 1/3 cup crumbled French feta cheese (it's less salty than Greek feta)
  
• 1/2 cup cream
• 1/2 cup walnuts, coarsely chopped

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. Toss the butternut squash cubes, olive oil, and salt in a large bowl, until the squash is lightly coated. Spread the cubes out onto a large, rimmed baking sheet and roast them, stirring occasionally, until they're tender and starting to brown (about 35 minutes.)

Meanwhile, saute the leeks in butter in a heavy skillet over medium heat. Sprinkle the mixture with a pinch of salt and the thyme, then saute until the leeks are tender (about 15 minutes.) Use the rest of the butter to grease the bottom of a small baking dish. (My ceramic pie plate made a perfectly sized baking dish.) Spread half the leek mixture over the bottom of the baking sheet, then add a layer of squash and half of the cheese. Repeat the layers once more, then sprinkle the gratin with the chopped walnuts.

Pour the cream evenly over the gratin, and bake the dish, uncovered, for about 30 minutes or until the gratin is heated through and the cream is bubbling. Serve with salmon, an apple sausage, a warm apple tart, or just with a smile.

Falling in love with fall...and chewy cookies

As my husband and I settle into our new home, we're delighting in the new scenery -- sweet peas and blackberries that crowd the roadside, flanks of tall evergreens, ferns and moss. We discover a new plant, road, or park almost as often as we discover a new favorite restaurant (Burgerville, I love you and your sweet potato fries!)

We try to hike around, exploring new paths, like this one in Gabriel Park.


And we're also adjusting a cooler, rainier atmosphere. It's easy to slip into fall here. Just throw on your favorite sweater and walk downtown, maybe stop by Powell's for a magazine and a cup of coffee. That's how I roll with fall, anyway. With books and walking and a never-ending supply of coffee. Football? That's nice, but instead, I'll be eating 4-C Cookies with my new neighbor, Kristin, on her back porch, watching fall.....fall.

These cookies -- cherry chili chocolate chip cookies to be precise -- are starting to catch on in my new home. When I brought a batch to work, my co-worker Mike* ate at least three, probably four. Some people took one as a dare, to see if they'd like the chili, and then came back for more.

I think people like them because they're sweet, hot, crispy, chewy, and made of only the good stuff.


Chewy chili cherry chocolate chip cookies
makes 24-30 cookies

• 1/2 cup of butter, like Tillamook unsalted
• 1/2 cup packed brown sugar
• 1/2 cup cane sugar
• 1 tsp. vanilla
• 1 large egg
• 2 tsp. Mexican chili powder
• 1/2 tsp. coarse sea salt
• 1 1/4 cup + 1 tsp. all-purpose flour
• 1/2 tsp. baking soda
• 1 cup dark chocolate chips
• 3/4 cup chopped walnut pieces
• 3/4 cup dried cherry pieces (cranberries also work well!)

Preheat your oven to 375 degrees, and line two cookie sheets with parchment paper. Beat the butter with a mixer for 30 seconds, until it gets smooth and creamy, and then beat in both sugars for another minute. Beat in the egg and vanilla until the mixture is fluffy and smooth.

In a small bowl, mix together the flour, salt, baking soda, and chili powder. Incorporate the flour mixture into the butter/sugars slowly, taking care not to over-mix the batter. Stir in the cherries, chocolate chips, and walnuts.

Use a tablespoon to measure out the dough, keeping the cookies at least two inches apart on the baking sheet. Bake the cookies for 8 to 10 minutes, or until the edges are crispy. Cool the cookies on a cookie rack and then enjoy with cold milk.


*Names have been changed to protect the easily embarrassed. "Mike" did say of the cookies that they were just the mixture of sweet and hot, and that they had a "sustaining power."

Peaches and pizza

Now that I'm fully a working girl, I often trudge home after 6 0'clock with no inspiration for dinner. My mind goes blank as I walk through the front door, just as it does when I enter a Fred Meyer/Target/Trader Joes. I stare blankly into the florescent-lit abyss and ask the same questions:

What did I come here for?
What did I write on the list?
What do I already have for dinner?

What goes with salad?

At that point, I usually give up on my predetermined dinner or shopping list and buy the first shiny/chocolate-filled item that crosses my gaze. (I have a weakness; its name is retail marketing. )

Sometimes, I give up on rummaging through my kitchen cupboards for dinner ingredients. Screw it! I say. We're going to Burgerville for blackberry milkshakes!

But when I don't give up, when I weave leftovers and pantry misfits and the remainder of the produce basket together, the results sometimes...zing. For example, last week, I swirled some homemade barbecue sauce with a can of tomato paste and created a savory-sweet base for pizza.

Barbecue sauce, tomato, spices, presto!

Then, I layered a pre-made pizza crust with the sauce, sauteed onions and peppers, and the last, fresh summer peaches from my trip to New Seasons Market. Fifteen minutes and a layer of cheese later, dinner was served. I consider this pizza a nod to the end up summer and a preparation for fall; it's warm, sweet, spiced and comforting.

Gooey, bubbly, savory and sweet

Barbecued Peach Pizza
serves 4-6

• one pre-made pizza dough* ( I used TJ's Whole Wheat)
  
• 1 small can tomato paste
• 1/2 cup barbecue sauce
• 1/2 tsp. sea salt
• 1/2 tsp. each garlic powder, basil, oregano
• 3/4 cup yellow onion, sliced into thin strips
  
• 1 1/2 cup sliced red and yellow bell peppers, sliced into thin strips
  
• 2 oz. sliced ham
• 1 large, yellow peach
• 1-2 Tb. extra-virgin olive oil
• 3/4 shredded Fontina cheese
• 1/2 cup extra-sharp cheese, like cheddar (I used an aged SpanishManchego)
• 1 Tb. brown sugar
  

Preheat your oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit and prepare the pizza dough. My Trader Joe's wheat dough needed a small working, followed by 20 minutes of rest. I prepare the toppings while the dough rests.

The pizza sauce comes together in under 30 seconds. Simply combine the tomato paste, 1/2 to 3/4 cups of water, the barbecue sauce and spices together in a bowl. Let them mix and mingle while you prepare the pizza toppings.

Take a moment to shred the Fontina and cheddar and to cut the peach and the ham into slices.

Now, for the good stuff. Heat half of the olive oil in a small skillet or sauté pan, and sauté the onions for 5-10 minutes, until they are soft and carmely-brown. Add a dash more olive oil, then toss in the peppers and cook for another minute or two -- just long enough to sear the peppers a little. Transfer the onion/pepper mixture to a bowl, then add the rest of the olive oil to the pan.

Over medium heat, brown the peach slices, then the ham in the pan. Flip the slices after a minute on each side.

Now, assemble the pizza. Spread the sauce evenly on the dough, leaving a 1-inch margin around every side for a crust. Layer the onions and peppers on the sauce, and fill in the empty spaces with peach and ham slices. Sprinkle the whole pizza with cheese, then with the brown sugar. Bake in a 375 degree oven for 15-20 minutes, or until the crust is browned and the cheese is melted. Enjoy your fall pizza with the last greens from the garden.

* I bought a pre-made crust from Trader Joes, but you can also purchase ready-made dough from your favorite pizza take-out place for around $3. You get professional crust without the bother of making your own.