TheKitchenSinkRecipes.com

I may have just planned my last Family Dinner for quite some time. Oh, don’t worry: the Family Dinners will continue. Its just that I might only be cooking and enjoying them, rather than menu planning for them. Let me explain.

Ali, Kevin and I have entered into a friendly wager involving the latest season of The Biggest Loser. Let’s face it, the TV pickings are slim these days. What’s more, we don’t have a team in the NFL playoffs, the Bulls are completely awful and March Madness is half a January and a whole February (complete with an extra day for Leap Year!) away. So, folks, we’ve created our own sport.

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I could get used to this. During this break from school—which will stretch on for more than another week still—I’ve had time to undertake multi-step, multi-hour and, in some cases, multi-day recipes. And many of the recipes have been brand new to me. I’ve only cooked or baked old standbys—banana bread on the weekends or our favorite stir fry on a weeknight here and there—fewer than a handful of times.

One of my favorite culinary pastimes during this break has fallen into both the multi-step and new recipe categories: bread baking. I wrote a little about it last week, after I made oatmeal knots. But there is almost nothing so satisfying as starting with extremely simple ingredients—water, yeast, flour—and ending up with a golden, puffed, beautiful bread. And you get to knead dough in the process, which, sadly, is my idea of a good time.

My latest undertaking was a whole wheat bread. At the stores or my favorite neighborhood bakery, I almost never dream of buying a loaf that isn’t whole grain. But when baking bread myself, I’ve been doubtful that one of my whole wheat loaves would be nearly as good-looking or great-tasting.

So, when I came across a well-reviewed recipe on Epicurious, I bookmarked it to try when I had the time. And time I would need—thanks to three risings and one oven-temperature change, I had to stay within a tight radius of the kitchen for the better part of an afternoon. And since time is what I have these days, I went for it.

The recipe itself was very easy to follow and involved ingredients (the most exotic of which is molasses) I usually have on hand. One thing that I did not have on hand and didn’t really think about until (too) late in the game was more than one large loaf pan (the recipe calls for two). However, I do have an obscene amount of mini loaf pans (thanks to a wedding-related project this summer: making an obscene amount of mini loaves of banana bread for the out of town guests’ welcome bags; and you already thought I was crazy). So, I made one full loaf and, fully aware that the mini loaf is highly uncommon for a sandwich-and-toast kind of bread, four mini loaves.

I will say that I was delighted with the appearance of this bread. I ended up with five gorgeous loaves: deep, nutty brown and shiny (due to a slick of egg wash prior to baking). The mini-loaves were a bit misshapen and my attempt to jazz them up by scoring the tops didn’t quite work out. But the big loaf is a beauty and next time I’ll either buy a second large loaf pan or just halve the recipe (which would leave me with half a packet of yeast, leftover, though). The bread is also very tasty and becomes delicious after a quick dip in the toaster. The hours in the kitchen will seem completely worthwhile when you sit down with a toasted slice, slathered with your choice of, um, slatherable (I opt for peanut butter) and a steaming cup of coffee in the morning. In fact, it’s the perfect meal to enjoy while perusing recipes that will keep you occupied for the next day.

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I mentioned to Kevin the other day that I was planning to make minestrone this week. He looked up quizzically and asked if I’d ever made it before. I answered that I hadn’t. “Huh, that’s weird. You make so many soups, but you’ve never made such a basic one?” Well, that was as good as a challenge. I clearly had to make minestrone now. And while I was at it, I should probably make the best one ever.

Minestrone wasn’t the only first for me in this recipe. I’ve never used dried beans (for anything other than a makeshift set of pie weights, that is). It’s definitely fussy. This recipe calls for an overnight soak for great white northern beans. And then a long simmer. So you’re almost in the double-digits for hours spent on the soup (albeit extremely inactive hours, which can and certainly should involve sleeping) before you’ve even pulled out the soup pot. But a quick taste test of the soaked-and-simmered beauties revealed a definite taste improvement. I’ll be soaking beans in the future, I think.

Aside from the white beans, if you thought yesterday‘s post illustrated the abundance of vegetables in our lives, that cole slaw has nothing on this minestrone. Kale, cabbage, carrot, onion, zucchini, green beans and red potatoes. Like I said, we’re keeping our produce market afloat this week. In fact, we have managed to put two entire heads of cabbage to use in a matter of days. For two of us.

This isn’t the prettiest soup I’ve ever made. I doesn’t have the velvety texture of this one or the vibrant pop of a shocking color of this one. But we all know better than to judge a book by its cover. And the more than 100 positive reviews on Epicurious for this soup had me more than willing to look beyond this soup’s humble appearance. As usual, the Epicurious commenters were right. This soup is terrific—hearty, rich and filling. Other than vastly decreasing the amount of bacon and olive oil and swapping shaved pecorino for parmesan, my only addition was a dusting of crushed chiles on top.

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From the looks of this site’s Recipe Index (to which I just made some user-friendly improvements), you might think that our diets are bereft of vegetables. In reality, vegetables are the most abundant component of our diets. So much so that it’s worth it for us to go to a separate produce market every week, in addition to our other grocery store (okay, fine, grocery stores; I get a little out of hand when it comes to grocery shopping). It’s just that the veggie dishes don’t always make it the blog.

After being in a braise-y, roast-y mood last week, this week I’m feeling the urge to make brighter, more acidic dishes. And veggies. Lots of them. If fact, it was a record-setting week for us at Stanley’s, our aforementioned produce market.

So, I thought I’d better share a veggie focused recipe with you—lest you think we eat chocolate tarts and cinnamon rolls day in and day out. Moreover, this cole slaw—which features a vinegar-based (i.e. mayo-free) dressing—also satisfied my craving for bright (cilantro, scallions), acidic (both from the rice wine vinegar and lime juice) flavors. Bonus points for the vibrant colors (thanks to a mix of cabbages and both black and white sesame seeds) and the intense kick of heat (imparted by a hefty pinch of crushed chiles). This cole slaw was perfect paired with Sunday night’s crab cakes. And, because this recipe makes a lot, it was wonderful for lunch yesterday. I might even have some for dessert tonight! See—I told you I like vegetables.

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In honor of the final season premiere of HBO’s “The Wire,” which is set in Baltimore, I decided to make crab cakes for dinner last night. I suppose this is where I could use my The-Kitchen-Sink-Soapbox to expound about how this is the most original, heartbreaking and haunting show on television. I could treat you, dear reader, like I have treated friends and family over the past couple years—hounding them incessantly until they finally, finally NetFlix Season One. (And then there are those, ahem: Emily and Suzy, who are still holding out.)

But since this is a cooking blog, not a television blog, I’ll tell you about the crab cakes instead. Basically, I’ve never been all that satisfied with crab cakes I’ve ordered in restaurants or made at home. But I do love the crab cakes at Minneapolis restaurant Oceanaire. Luckily, my parents took a cooking class where they learned the Oceanaire recipe and can now recreate the meaty wonders at home.

But while I adore the Oceanaire crab cakes, both at the restaurant and at my parents’ house, they’re a bit on the decadent side. And I was confident I could create a version that was a little less special occasion-y (read: contained less than a week’s worth of mayo).

The liberating thing about creating your own recipe is that you can draw on the things you love from other versions. For instance, I knew I couldn’t sacrifice the crab for filler; like the Oceanaire crab cakes, I wanted a meaty end result. Along the same lines, I like crab cakes that don’t fall prey to bulky, chewy breadcrumbs. So I traded traditional breadcrumbs for the crunchiness and nuttiness of whole wheat panko.

But you can also nix other elements of most recipes that don’t suit you. For instance, I think bell peppers, a staple of many crab cake recipes, tend to do too much show-stealing, detracting from the main event: the crab. So I omitted them all together and instead used an ample amount of green onions and chives. And I rarely cook with mayonnaise, so I swapped in Greek yogurt in its place. Similarly I like crab cakes with a kick, but hot sauce, I think, is often too harsh and acidic. I opted for the subtle heat of cayenne in this version.

To serve along the side of these crab cakes, I created two dipping sauces: whipped avocado and horseradish cream. The avocado sauce was the clear winner—offering just the right amount of cool creaminess and tang. The crab cakes were delicious and I’d like to say they stole the show on the evening. But , in truth, several beats into the theme song of The Wire, we were transfixed and the crab cakes were more of a side dish. So make these crab cakes, but maybe first, order yourself some back seasons of The Wire.

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Last night, we were invited to a wine tasting party to celebrate our friend’s birthday. I’m not sure what exactly has happened during the last half-decade, but this bunch of college friends has somehow jumped from beer-swilling and beer-pong-tournament-planning to discerning palates and wine tasting. And while our night’s activities might have gotten more sophisticated and our beverage no longer pours from a can, we still drank too much. Apparently, you can take the adults out of college, but you can’t take the college out of the adults.

But we tried, at least. And to do my part in this class-up-our-Saturday-night-trend, I thought I’d make an elegant snack. And I can’t think of a snack more elegant than gougeres. I mean just saying it is elegant. I chose this recipe for blue cheese gougeres because I thought it would pair excellently with the red wines we would be tasting (it did) and because I had an enormous hunk of blue cheese leftover from some other recipe.

Gougeres—which are pate a choux-based—are fairly easy to make. The critical stages can take on a supermarket-sweep-like-frenzy, so I recommend preparing all your ingredients and your baking sheets ahead of time. Doing so will reduce your stress quite a bit. You might also consider forgoing your weight-lifting for the day: the “vigorous” stirring involved here will provide a sufficient arm workout. Gougeres are also very versatile in that they lend themselves to a variety of cheeses and flavors. I loaded these with black pepper, because I think appetizers that feature the stuff tend to beg you to drink red wine with them. Like we needed another excuse last night.

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I am in the midst of making a package of treats as a thank you gift. It will include the granola I wrote about yesterday, the rosemary roasted cashews that I love too much and perfect squares of decadent peanut butter brownies (a recipe I got from Smitten Kitchen). In case the recipient is reading, I will say no more about the package. Except for this: it was also supposed to contain caramels.

Caramels—ends dipped in melted bittersweet chocolate and wrapped in pretty parchment squares—would be a lovely addition to the package, no? Well I’m sure they would have been … had they come even close to being edible. And the rock-hard mass that my “caramels” became was certainly not edible, unless of course you enjoy losing your teeth while eating.

I’ve never made caramels before. You see, before yesterday, I didn’t own a candy thermometer, which is an essential piece of equipment for caramel-creating. And, let me tell you, those suckers are apparently hard to find. I don’t know if it was a post-Christmas shortage, but I had to go to several stores to find one (a little too potato-ricer-esque for my taste). I’ve also held off on making caramels because I was a little scared. So I was comforted when I read Jacques Pépin’s description of his caramel recipe: foolproof. And I followed his recipe to the letter. Even when my intuition told me that the color had surpassed lightly-golden and descended into a rich brown, I forged on until my thermometer registered 320°, as Pépin instructed. And I trusted that, because I had followed every single one of his instructions, that if I just let the caramels sit for the prescribed four hours they’d transform into the soft, pliable wonders in Pépin’s photo, even though they hardened mere moments after I poured them into their mold.

Upon closer inspection of Pepin’s introduction to the recipe, I see he says it’s almost foolproof. Ha! So, I ask you dear readers: where did I go wrong? Faulty recipe (doubt it, it’s Jacques Pépin)? Faulty thermometer? And, perhaps more importantly, do you have a recipe that is truly foolproof?

A quick warning: if you think you love cereal that comes from a box on the shelf and if you do not wish to be convinced otherwise, this is not the post for you. Come back tomorrow for a post that might make you drool, but at least it won’t put your relationship with your morning cereal in serious jeopardy.

Wow, you’re still reading? Well, you my friend, are brave. You might think I’m exaggerating. But I assure you that this granola is that good. My own break-up story with boxed cereal began this summer, when I uncharacteristically ordered yogurt and granola when we were at one of our favorite breakfast places (Vella Cafe, which is conveniently—and dangerously—located steps from our front door). Vella’s parfait featured a local granola that is somewhat of a Chicago celebrity: Milk and Honey Granola.

While I still don’t think any version of granola that I’ve concocted at home is quite as good Milk and Honey’s version, they’ve all been close. I’ve tried several different recipes, which—generally speaking—all contain some combination of oats (and sometimes coconut, wheat germ or bran); mixed nuts, fruits and seeds; at least one sweetener (sugar, honey, maple syrup); flavorings (like cinnamon or vanilla) and at least one fat (typically, a neutral vegetable oil like canola). Once I realized that the recipes were basically variations of the same theme, I created a recipe of my own that I adore.

More than the fact that homemade granola is endlessly customizable, I love that granola is a stunning example of the sum completely transcending its parts. And it will make your house smell unbelievably good and turn your breakfast into an exciting event. This granola is even special enough to package up in a beautiful bag or jar and ship across the country as a gift or unexpected treat. Tell me the last time you did that with your “favorite” boxed cereal.

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Two things I mentioned yesterday factor heavily into today’s post too. First, the weather. Whoa it is cold. We are being mocked for enjoying the holiday season so much, apparently. Second, the new pot in my life. And the final element that completes the picture above was the fact that New Years Day, like a Sunday, calls for a meal that gives your day some purpose, but doesn’t have you chained to the kitchen all day. Something that you can invest in and something that will result in a soothing, memorable meal. But a menu that doesn’t hold it against you that you enjoyed one too many glasses of champagne the night before and thus need to put in some major couch time. Hypothetically.

A braise is just the thing to satisfy these New Years Day criteria: a braise takes hours, but requires very minimal attention, and the magic it works on short ribs—rendering them into fall-apart loveliness—is certainly comforting and memorable. Especially when it’s very, very cold out (okay, I promise to stop whining and start acting like the Minnesotan-turn-Chicagoan that I am) and when you’ve got the perfect new vessel for braising (that’d be the aforementioned dutch oven that I am obviously just way too excited about).

This meal also gave me a chance to re-create the lettuce wraps that I made for a holiday party in December. You see, when I made them then, I threw a little of this and a pinch of that into the pot and was delighted when they turned out to be delicious. But my delight quickly gave way to dismay when I realized I wasn’t exactly sure what I’d done. This time around, I diligently measured and took notes and I think the result was even better.

And after a holiday season of heavy, decadent bite-sized treats, these bright, flavorful and light wraps are a welcome change. But I’m not ready to give up hearty, hibernation-worthy food like the braised short ribs just yet. I’d like those kind of dishes to stick around—and stick to my ribs—for at least another couple months. Even if my better judgment has me serving lightly stir-fried, garlicky and fiery baby bok choy along the side.

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This lentil-tomato soup recipe might have been a more apt January 1 recipe (a little more resolution-worthy than sticky buns, right?). But, as far as I was concerned, it was still the holiday yesterday and holidays deserve special foods, not salads (indeed, Salad Wednesday is making a repeat appearance tonight, as promised) and gyms (mine was so packed this morning I had to fight for machines and bob-and-weave my way to my locker).

But now the holidays are officially over. Sniff. And, mother nature seems to have neatly replaced the holiday season with a wicked cold snap here in Chicago. The thermometer isn’t climbing above the single digits and it actually hurts to breathe outside. Clearly, this situation calls for soup. And this soup, despite its rich smoky flavor and velvety luxe texture, won’t derail even the most rigorous health-related resolutions.

And, for me, this soup gave me another excuse to use my favorite kitchen-related Christmas present: the gorgeous Le Creuset dutch oven pictured above. In the week since Christmas, I’ve used it four times. That’s right, four times. I haven’t even found a home for it in our cupboards yet, because it’s been so frequently in use. And it’s just so pretty that it might take up permanent residence on the stove.

So whether you’ve got a resolution to uphold, a cold snap to weather or a new pot to break in, this is the recipe for you.

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