It's still all soup, all the time around here. I got into a soup-making frenzy for this week's food section story in the Richmond Times-Dispatch, and by virtue of there having been over 14,000 views of my Oktoberfest soup video since it went up 4 days ago--it's just a guess, mind you--but I think you might be making soup, too.
So, assuming that you are --either one of mine, or one of your own favorites -- it occurs to me that what you may want right about now is a great recipe for gougeres or, what in English is known as cheese puffs.
They are the most scrumptous accompaniment for most any soup that I can think of, and there's absolutely no reason that a quick batch can't be whipped up in the twinkling of an eye. They are incredibly easy and really fun to make, as I was reminded when I made these little babies the other night.
The only thing I forgot to do was to put some parchment paper on my baking sheet, which made them leave their delectable little bottoms behind. Not that I would ever do such a thing, of course, but If you don't want to be discovered ignominiously gnawing on the baking sheet after dinner when in theory you're doing the dishes, then I strongly suggest you remember the parchment paper.
Gougeres
makes 8
1/4 cup milk
1/4 cup water
4 ounces (1/2 a stick) unsalted butter
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
2 large eggs, beaten
1 cup freshly grated Parmesan Reggiano cheese
ground black pepper to taste
Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
In a small, heavy saucepan combine the milk, water, butter and salt and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce the heat to moderate and add the flour all at once and beat the mixture vigorously with a wooden spoon until it leaves the sides of the pan and forms a ball.
Transfer to a bowl. Whisk in the eggs and then stir in the cheese and pepper.
Drop batter in 8 mounds on a baking sheet fitted with a sheet of parchment paper, and bake in the upper third of the oven for 20 minutes or until golden brown. Remove and serve immediately with the hot soup of your choice.
Since it's St. Valentine's day eve, perhaps it's time for a true confession: I've recently fallen madly in love. It was on a quintessential autumn day in New York last year (strike up the Mel Torme, please) and we were dining with beloved friends just in from Afghanistan and London. Needless to say, when you've been stationed in Kabul, what you're really longing for, is some good, authentic NYC deli, and Russ & Daughters, that venerable lower East Side bastion of all things kosher, didn't disappoint.
Yes, the lox and whitefish were superb, the bagels nonpareil, but I was completely overcome by the Russian Cabbage soup. Okay, it wasn't much to look at admittedly, But there just was something about it. I couldn't get enough of it. I thought that perhaps it was the most delicious thing I'd ever eaten. It was lovely to see my friends and all, but, my goodness, this soup! Crazy, I know, but I fell, and I fell hard.
Yoo Hoo! Here I am! I know, it's been entirely too long, but if you have been worried about me, fear not, I'm perfectly happy and right as rain.
I realized just how long I've been missing in action last night while I was photographing a great corn pudding with orange bell pepper and summer squash that I'd just created to accompany the summer's first crab cakes. Jeff, who was champing at the bit to actually lay into it, asked, "Actually, how long HAS it been since you last blogged?" When I embarrassingly admitted the truth, he gasped, I tell you! He literally gasped which, I must say, rather stole my thunder and quickly put pay to any self-satisfied pride I had over the corn pud.
I have been remiss. It's not that I haven't been cooking, or writing, or even photographing. It's just that I've been up to my nose in other stuff and I haven't been posting. In going through my photographs from the last few months, I'm struck by how many lovely things graced our kitchen table that I've not shared. I shall do my best to make amends.
And speaking of sharing, just maybe, this is a good time to discuss the saga of "the great pantry debacle" which may provide some comfort, or at least amusement to you, my equally fraught fellow home cooks.
Here I am after a long summer bursting with trips and frivolity. Best of all, beside the distinct pleasure of being home and trying to create some semblance of order in my chaotically overgrown garden and, heck, well, life, Felix is home for a brief visit before heading back to college.
Our trip to Greece was, well, dreamy, and future postings will delve into everything Jeff and I saw, learned and ate. This time however, I thought I'd go for a gentle reentry into Clare's Kitchen with what turned out to be a lovely, gentle reentry into cooking dinner again.
I'm clearly having a soup craze. I know this seems nutty on a day when we're supposed to have a high of 73 degrees, however, it is still February, so my soup obsession is at least seasonal, even if the seasons aren't playing along. This all started earlier in the week when, yes, there was snow on the ground. Better still, I had the great good fortune to luck into a meaty ham bone at the grocery store. I habitually check to see if they've got one at the deli, having finished up slicing a spiral ham. When I find one, I scoop it up and stow it away in the freezer knowing it will find a happy home in something or other before too long.
Who'd a thunk we'd finally have a snow day around here? Best of all, it's President's Day so lots of folks have the day off and don't have to drive around in it. They can actually go out and play while it lasts, which, from a quick peak at Mr. Washington's trusty thermometer outside my living room window, won't be too long. The General Assembly soldiers on regardless of things like holidays and snow, so from my perspective, sitting here alone--well Briggs and Eudora Richardson are here with me of course (my black and white furry companions)-- I've really lucked out with perhaps the quintessential snow day lunch for one.
On Friday night, I was driving home from a very good talk by Ben Campbell at the library and listening to my radio, when it suddenly started to send out shock waves of Noel into the unseasonably warm night air. With that familiar refrain, I suddenly realized that it was Twelfth Night. Because, as I've already alluded, I'm a creature of idiosyncratic culinary habits tied to all sorts of things, certainly including but not limited to the ecclesiastical calendar, I realized with delight that I'd therefore be producing the beloved cauliflower and Stilton soup over the weekend, for around here, Twelfth Night and Stilton soup go hand in hand. It all goes back to my Christmas obsession with Stilton. I grew up with a creamy round of Stilton being an integral part of the fabric of the holidays as, I imagine, it is in most English households. Even before I was old enough to love the musty blue cheese myself, I loved all of the accoutrements that it brought with it. The monogrammed Stilton "shovel" used to dig the green-veined cheese from the very heart of the round, the little glasses of port that accompanied it, the table water biscuits, the walnuts and the old familiar nut cracker, etched with complicated squiggles, that added the sound of a nice resounding crunch to the festivities.
I believe this would be appropriately termed an embarrassment of riches. I've had a simply lovely week of being a pampered houseguest in not one, but two extraordinarily beautiful historic homes in Virginia. As though that wasn't incredible enough, both visits were with people I dearly love and involved most of my favorite things--talking, walking, laughing, swimming, cooking and eating. Sheer bliss in every way that I can possibly imagine. To guild the proverbial lily, I returned home to find everything going berserk in my garden (as you can see from these lilies) and then, this morning, at the farmer's market.
Let me just say that the New Year is off to a raucous and challenging start. Felix is back to school as a “second semester senior” which, for some reason seems to mean to him that he’s completely autonomous and in charge. Don’t think so. Also Jeff is back at the General Assembly which means long days for him and meal uncertainty for me. Will anybody be home for dinner? If so, when will they be here? And if they show up, will they even be hungry? And to top all of that off, Felix has just informed me that I’m no longer an Aries! Where will it all end?
What better way to break in a new website than by launching my inaugural blog here at Clareskitchen.net?
Autumn’s arrival signaled the start of my beloved soup season. And, since I knew it would come eventually, even when the temperatures were hovering in the upper 80’s not too long ago, I proactively did all sorts of things in preparation: I made sure there was lots of great homemade chicken stock in my freezer: ordered a gorgeous new shipment of beans from Ranchogordo.com; and made sure that there was an array of aromatics, like carrots, celery, garlic, and onions positioned to get things moving along in the right direction when the moment seemed auspicious.