Stir Fry Ravioli

We have our first guest blogger! My friend Tim Peters writes from Argentina on an unusual combination: cheese pasta and stir fry flavors.

Can cheese go with an east-Asian stir-fry?

I’m living in Argentina. One day I made a broccoli and beef stir-fry with rice. One of my roommates took a hunk of cheese out of the refrigerator and started grating it over his plate.

My culinary senses tingled. Grated cheese with rice? And with a soy/peanut/orange juice sauce?
My roommate grates a lot of cheese. His dad worked for a dairy company so there was always a lot of cheese in his house.

He offered to grate some on my stir-fry. I passed.

After I got used to him doing this, I thought…could it be so wrong? The reason there’s so little cheese in Chinese cuisine, for example, was the lack of space in which to raise dairy cows. That geographical necessity doesn’t imply a culinary necessity. And just because a regional cuisine starts off without an ingredient doesn’t mean it can’t mix it in and make it essential. Just look at that staple of Italian cooking, the tomato, which wasn’t even brought to Europe until the conquest of America.

So I thought…well, rice is a pretty neutral-flavored, starchy carb…just like potatoes or pasta, onto which we don’t hesitate to grate cheese.

As such, here’s a recipe I came up with that combines an east-Asian stir-fry sauce (along with some fried veggies) with Italian (Argentine, really) cheese raviolis:

Ricotta ravioli with a Thai stir-fry sauce

Ingredients:

Raviolis:
Here in Paraná, Argentina, I can go to the grocery store and buy pastas made that morning or the day before by a local company. A 500g box of raviolis costs four pesos, or about 1 USD! 500g of raviolis serves three people.

I use ricotta-stuffed raviolis. The other options, for us here, are vegetable or chicken. With ricotta the dish is vegetarian and fills you up pretty well. The ricotta’s got a very mild flavor and is a good base for the rich sauce.

Sauce:
2-3 tbsp soy sauce – Sad irony of Argentina: despite being one of the world’s largest soy producers, soy sauce and especially tofu are very hard to come by and expensive, and have no place in the local cuisine.

1 tbsp crushed peanuts

½ of an orange

1 tbsp cornstarch

1 large carrot

1 medium onion

1 medium red bell pepper

1 clove garlic

1-3 tbsp crushed red pepper (optional)

2-3 tbsp vegetable oil (or whatever oil you like to stir-fry with)

some smooth cheese for grating

Instructions:
I make the sauce while the water for the raviolis is heating up.

I chop up the onions, throw them into a couple tablespoons oil on medium/high heat, and throw some salt onto them. Next I chop up the garlic, finely, and throw that in. Next the carrots, which I slice into coins. Last comes the bell pepper. If you want some spice, throw in 1-3 tbsp of crushed red chili peppers.

I keep the heat the same and make sure to keep stirring. If you want the veggies crispier, don’t cook them so long. Don’t let them get limp and translucent.

For the sauce: put 2-3 tbsp soy sauce into a mixing bowl. Wash your hands and dip your finger in and get a feel for the flavor. Next I squeeze in some juice from the orange, tasting the sauce until it has a citrus flavor. Next, I mix in some of the crushed peanuts, stirring them in and tasting the sauce until I notice the peanut flavor. Next, mix in the 1 tbsp of corn starch, which when the sauce gets heated, while make it thick and sticky.

The raviolis cook in 2-3 minutes. Once they float to the top of the water, they’re ready. So, once I throw the raviolis in the water, then I mix the sauce into the stir-fry and stir it in. It thickens quickly. If the sauce starts bubbling I turn down the heat so it simmers until the raviolis are ready.

I strain the raviolis and then mix them into the stir-fry.

I grate some extra cheese on top before eating.

Better-than-a-Box Brownies

Q: What is more American than apple pie?
A: Brownies.

I got this brownie recipe courtesy of Buns in My Oven, a cooking blog with great recipes and even better photos—is the photo above not the most flattering picture of a brownie you’ve ever seen?

Like the writer of that blog, I was never too keen on homemade brownies. They tend to end up cakey, dry, thin, or full of nuts (if you ask me, nothing destroys that perfect chewy brownie texture like nuts—blech!). I’ve always preferred brownies from a box. I was a teenage expert at brownie-from-the-box making before I even knew how to operate an egg beater. You open the plastic bag, dump the powder in the bowl, throw in the egg and the oil, stir, toss the pan in the oven, lick the bowl clean while you wait, and 35 minutes later you and a friend each grab a fork . . . and the ensuing magic can only be imagined.

Until now, with the discovery of a homemade brownie that is EVEN BETTER than the box! These brownies take the cake. Literally, they take the cake, step on it, and throw it out the window.

Look again at the picture. See that sparkle, the glistening moisture, like fertile soil after a rain? That is pure black gold. I can now state with confidence that brownies are the best desserts ever in the history of baking.

Fudge Brownies

1 cup (2 sticks) butter
2 1/4 cups sugar
4 large eggs
1 1/4 cups cocoa powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon espresso powder, optional
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips

1.Pre-heat the oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 9×13 baking dish.
2. In small saucepan over low heat, melt butter completely. Stir in sugar and continue cooking for 1-2 minutes, stirring constantly. Do not allow sugar mixture to boil.
3. Pour butter mixture into a large bowl or stand mixer, beat in cocoa powder, eggs, salt, baking powder, espresso powder, and vanilla extract. Mix until well combined.
4. Stir in the flour and chocolate chips until well combined.
5. Pour into prepared pan and bake for about 30 minutes, until a tester comes out mostly clean. The edges should be set and the center should still look slightly moist, but not uncooked. Cool on a wire rack.

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Le Brownie, un dessert américain

Question: Quel est le meilleur dessert dans le monde?

Réponse : Le brownie.

Question : Où se trouve ce brownie ?

Réponse : Aux Etats-Unis.

Il se n’arrive pas souvent que les pâtisseries françaises soient vaincues par un dessert rival. Mais le brownie l’a fait. C’est un dessert pour ceux qui aiment le chocolat, pour ceux qui n’aiment pas le chocolat, même pour ceux qui n’aiment pas le dessert. Ce n’est pas forcement un dessert ; ça se mange à n’importe quelle heure.

Comme une petite fille américaine, j’ai grandi avec les brownies. Avant que j’aie connu la différence entre l’huile d’olive et l’huile végétale je faisais des brownies.

Ce n’est pas un gâteau, ce n’est pas la pate d’un gâteau, c’est quelque chose entre les deux. On dirait le mélange parfait.

Allez, je m’arrête de baver—goutez les vous-mêmes !

Fudge Brownies

225 g de beurre
510 g de sucre
4 œufs
160 g de cacao en poudre
une cuillère à café de sel
une cuillère à café de levure chimique
un sachet de sucre vanille
165 g de farine
200 g de pépites de chocolat

1. Préchauffer le four à 180°C. Beurrez un moule carré d'environ 20 cm de côté.
2. Faire fondre le beurre et le sucre ensemble.
3. Mélanger le reste des ingrédients entre eux. Rajouter à ce mélange le mélange beurre et chocolat fondu.
4. Verser dans le moule et faire cuire au four 30 minutes.

The Sociable Diner: Raclette

I’m always a fan of sociable dining, and especially in winter, when packing guests elbow-to-elbow around the table generates much-needed body heat (is North America the only place in the world with central heating? Is it??), so I replied with an enthusiastic OUI BIEN SÛR when invited to a raclette dinner last Friday.

For an intimate, convivial atmosphere you can’t beat cooking food directly at the table and sharing the same dish among everyone. Hands are darting in and out of the center, the cheese is passed around every which way (French politess tip #1: always offer the morsel you just cooked to others first, and only if everyone refuses serve yourself), glasses are clinking, bread crumbs flying, conversations entangling.

I experienced the One Pot Love effect already this season in hosting a fondue savoyarde party; this time around it’s one cheese love, or maybe grilled cheesy love: Raclette, the svelte suédoise.

Le raclette is the name of a cheese originating from Switzerland and also made nowadays in the Savoie region of France. The dish la raclette (notice the gender change to differentiate the two) has been around since the middle ages. It’s a simple combination of heated raclette cheese scraped onto a plate of roasted potatoes, an assortment of dried meats, gherkins, and pickled onions. The word “raclette” comes from the French racler, meaning “to scrape.”

In our modern electric era, Raclette is heated on a table top grill using small pans to hold individual slices of cheese. Supermarkets carry packages of pre-sliced raclette cheese and meat assortments, so this is a meal almost free of preparation. The only cooking involved is roasting the potatoes, which leaves the host free to make the rounds of bisous (the French greeting custom of kissing both cheeks) and to serve aperitifs (before dinner drinks).


Raclette

Raclette cheese, sliced

Whole small potatoes Assortment of dried meats, sliced thinly

Pickles

Pickled onions or other dishes

White wine, to serve with

1. Scrub the potatoes and roast in a 400F oven until pierced easily, about 40 minutes.

2. Set the table with plates of dried meat, sliced cheese, and pickled vegetables

3. Roast the cheese slice by slice on the table top grill and serve as it is ready, scraping directly on top of the potatoes, meat, and vegetables. Alternately, roast the cheese in the oven and serve at once.

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La Raclette

Il y a plusieurs avantages quand on dîne en groupe. On passe du temps avec des amis et la famille, il y a plus de mains pour faire la vaisselle, et le monde, ça réchauffe la salle (il y en a besoin en France où l’on n’a jamais assez de chauffage).

Mais il y a aussi des désavantages : plus d’assiettes à laver après, beaucoup de travail et de temps pour préparer un grand repas, et on a toujours tendance à trop manger.

Voilà la raclette, la solution parfaite ! Le fromage à raclette et la charcuterie se vendent déjà préparés ; la seule chose qu’il faut faire cuire, ceux sont les pommes de terre—les laver, mettre dans un plat, au four, et c’est fini. Puis tout le monde s’assoit autour de la table et fait cuire soi-même les tranches de raclette. Et puis, la cerise sur le gâteau, l’appareil à raclette réchauffe la salle—pas besoin de mes moufles à cette table-là ! On mangera encore trop, mais manger beaucoup de fromage, ça va plutôt bien à mon avis.

La Raclette

1kg de fromage à raclette de Savoie ou de Suisse,
1 kg de pommes de terre nouvelles cuites,
500 g de charcuteries incluant jambon de Parme, viande de grisons, rosette,...
Cornichons et petits oignons blancs

Mettez tout sur la table autour de l'appareil à raclette et laissez faire vos invités selon leur humeur !

Vegetarianism is Not a Religion

I follow a diet that is officially called pescatarian, meaning I exclude meat and poultry but allow fish, seafood, eggs, and dairy. This means hypocrisy in the eyes of some people. I offer a rebuttal.

Prelude: I will briefly explain my reasons for (still) eating seafood, while I haven’t eaten meat in over 3 years. In general, when making a significant diet change, it is wise to go gradually, or one risks feeling dissatisfied and giving up the diet completely. This is equally true for cutting down carbs as well as going vegetarian/vegan. Three years ago I decided to give up meat, but I kept seafood in my diet for the nutrition and menu choice at restaurants. One year later, I was off to Japan where it is significantly harder to avoid eating seafood. Now, living in France, I have not cut seafood out from my diet completely but it occurs only rarely—when I’m a guest at dinner, when there is no other choice at a restaurant. I purchase fish or seafood, and I try to avoid choosing fish, especially tuna, when eating out.

Now, sometimes confusion occurs among others (non-vegetarians, for the most part), when I specify my eating habits. Some fail to understand why I make the difference between meat and seafood. Some imply that by allowing some meat (fish) I am betraying my cause, thereby making it void. Here is my response, on behalf of semi-vegetarians, vegetarians, and vegans alike.

Vegetarianism is not a religion

Vegetarianism is a political and moral cause. It is not a health movement, it is not a choice undertaken because one is grossed out by the thought of bleeding pigs. It is a specific political action to counter the system of exploitation of animals that is inextricable to the modern meat industry. There are many distinct causes to protest: the suffering of animals, the health risks present in many meat products, the damage to the environment, the macho culture of carnivorism, but I won’t go into that here. The point is that being an activist movement, participation in any form is useful and beneficial to the cause. There are no fundamentalist vegetarians (well, perhaps there are, but that would be silly).

We are not Orthodox Jews who must keep kosher; we are not Muslims who are forbidden to eat pork. Our rule, the rule of not eating meat, is flexible, because it is an individual choice.

All or nothing

Most people would say, there are vegetarians, and there are the rest of us. You’re either veg or you ain’t. Either you eat tofu or you eat death. But the question is not whether you eat meat or not. This difference is essentially unimportant. This is the difference between meat being 0% of your diet, versus meat being 1% to 100% of your diet (or, being more reasonable, since none of you are actually lions—between 1% to 20% of your diet).

Think about it for a moment—how often do you eat meat? At every meal? Once a day? A couple times a week? More rarely? Everyone’s going to have different responses. Let’s say Bob eats a hamburger for lunch every day, Susan has one twice a week, and Liz never touches one. Susan and Liz have a lot more in common than Susan and Bob.

Mark Bittman, a food writer who hosts The Minimalist video shorts on newyorktimes.com, has written several vegetarian cookbooks even though he is not vegetarian himself. I like him because he turns the distinction between veg and non-veg on its head, while putting forth recipes that promote a reduction of meat intake. He has suggested diets such as vegetarian-before-dinner, vegetarian-on-weekdays, vegan-for-breakfast, and his recipes often reverse the proportions of meat to vegetables, making vegetables take up most of the focus and the calories and saving the meat for embellishment.

I’ve heard many times, “I tried to become vegetarian once. But I love meat too much.” That’s a false distinction. Arby’s may draw an impassable line between muscled meat-lover and pansy salad-lover, but real people have a combination of both tastes. If you care even a little about any of the causes vegetarianism supports, all you have to do is reduce your meat intake.

Supporting vegetarianism is not all or nothing. No one would venture to say that someone who actively tries to reduce her daily carbon emissions by commuting daily on bicycle is hypocritical because she drives on the weekends.

Practicality

A friend once told me that her problem with vegetarians and vegans was that they were inconsistent. They might not eat butter from a cow, for example, but they’d wear leather shoes. Well of course we’re inconsistent! For vegans, is it even possible to avoid every single animal product in daily commercial use? This goes way beyond food and clothing. It extends to makeup, perfumes, lotions, wine, toothpastes, tennis racquets and musical instruments, candles, paints, varnish, vitamins and medicines. Even being a strict vegetarian is difficult. It is not always obvious when foods contain animal remains: gelatin (made with animal collagen) is in marshmallows, jello, some pastries, and some yogurts, and vegetable soups often have chicken, beef, or fish stock.

Any system that demands perfection is not sustainable. We don’t demand perfection. We demand a significant change of lifestyle towards less dependence on products that exploit animals.

Bad and less bad

So why eat fish and not meat? Why draw the line there? Is killing and eating a fish or shellfish less wrong than killing and eating a pig? Yes, I would argue. Most animal rights supporters base their beliefs on the idea that causing unnecessary suffering is morally indefensible. It can be argued that fish suffer less than mammals or poultry. Many people might disagree with me here, are there are legitimate philosophical and moral arguments to the contrary, but the fact rests that there is a world of difference between sucking a few live oysters down and the billions of pigs that are raised in horrendous slaughterhouse conditions each year.

Environmentally-speaking, the stakes are a bit different. It’s important to pay attention and be informed about individual species. The over-consumption of tuna is already a grave problem (bluefin tuna will likely be extinct in our lifetime if the world continues its present rate of consumption), the popular seafood menu choices Chilean sea-bass and orange roughy are in severe decline, and Atlantic farmed salmon comes from enormous, over-crowded farms that pollute the nearby waters. Fishing wild Alaskan salmon, on the other hand, does little damage to the environment.

In conclusion:
I hope this post will encourage people to think beyond vegetarian and meat-eater and consider the impact of individual dietary choices. If you’ve thought, even idly, about reducing your meat consumption for whatever reason—political, health, environmental—but felt like you couldn’t cut it out completely, now is the time to think about a more creative way to do it that is sustainable in the long-term. Avoid certain foods, tuna for example, veal, or red meat. Stop cooking with meat, treating yourself only at restaurants. Eat meat only at dinner, or special occasions.

Being conscious of what you are consuming and whose pocket you are lining with your money is not tree-hugging crazy-talk. It’s essential as product manufacture becomes increasingly removed from you and your home, as consumers are increasingly unaware of how and where products are made. Who’s benefiting from your ignorance? And who’s suffering as a result?

Thanksgiving

As you can see I’m not on the ball for Thanksgiving, arguably the biggest food event of the year. But I imagine many of you have part of a bowl of dried-out mashed potatoes still in the fridge, or maybe some pumpkin pie crumbs on the floor at least. Despite being in France, I refused to miss Thanksgiving, and with the help of my friend Andi, who hosted a Thanksgiving meal of 20 people at her place, I was able to enjoy all the classics (minus the turkey of course).

Thanksgiving was originally a harvest festival, to celebrate the edible wonders that grace the earth of North America; our modern Thanksgiving table spread adheres to this quite strictly: roast turkey, pumpkin pie, mashed potatoes, cornbread, green beans, apple pie, cranberry sauce. The feast that we call “the first Thanksgiving” was not at the time actually considered to be a Thanksgiving festival (that is, a religious observance of giving thanks to God), just an event to celebrate the successful harvest. In case you were absent that day of first grade when everyone made pilgrim hats and Indian feathers out of construction paper and learned the story of Thanksgiving, it goes like this: the pilgrims disembarked the Mayflower at Plymouth Rock in December of 1620, and subsequently lost almost half of their number to the severe winter. The harvest the following autumn, however, was bountiful, and to celebrate this the surviving pilgrims (about 55 at this time) organized a 3 day feast with about 90 Native Americans who had helped them throughout the year.

The table spread at this feast didn’t quite match our modern one—it’s not certain that there was actually turkey, and definitely not flour to make pies, or potatoes, which were still distrusted by the Europeans (they believed them to be poisonous). Instead, the pilgrims and Native Americans feasted on fish, lobster, clams, venison, pumpkin, berries, and plums. Good news for those pescatarians out there who want to be faithful to Thanksgiving.

The feast was not repeated, however, for many years, and it doesn’t have much historical connection to our modern holiday. Thanksgiving did not become a national holiday until 1863, when President Lincoln established Thanksgiving Day as the last Thursday of November.

Nevertheless, this story reminds me of the importance of the harvest, and how settler communities throughout history have thrived and starved on the success of their crops, how empires have made their fortunes on, and others been enslaved by, edible resources (opium, tea, chocolate); how fortunate we are to live on a land able to support a variety of foods, and in a society with access to a much larger variety.

Nowadays, Thanksgiving is a secular holiday that is an opportunity to get together with family and share a meal important to our national geography and history. It is, foremost, a celebration of food. It is also an opportunity to give thanks for the wealth and abundance that fills the platters on our tables, and to reflect on what it means and has meant for these 400 years to be an American.

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Thanksgiving

Je suis un peu en retard pour parler de « Thanksgiving », comme il a eu lieu jeudi dernier. En tant qu’américaine travaillant en France, j’ai dû travailler pour Thanksgiving, en effet Thanksgiving est une fête américaine, ce n’est donc pas un jour férié en France, ni le vendredi qui suit cette fête d’ailleurs. Par conséquent, je ne l’ai pas fêté avant samedi. Cependant, mieux tard que jamais.

Une copine américaine a fait un repas chez elle, invitant un vingtaine de personnes, dont la plupart étaient français. Elle a servi un repas traditionnel de Thanksgiving, incluant la dinde bien sur. Presque personne ne savait ce qu’est Thanksgiving avant qu’ils soient venus, c’était donc une opportunité de partager la culture américaine et la nourriture américaine.

Thanksgiving est surtout une fête de la nourriture native d’Amérique du Nord. Il prend son origine au 17ème siècle d’une fête dédiée à la récolte, et en notre jour il est toujours connu comme le jour où l’on mange très, très bien, autant qu’on l’appelle parfois « Turkey Day ».

Qu’est-ce qu’on mange comme dîner le jour de Thanksgiving ? Les plats sont très spécifiques :

1. une dinde rôtie
2. du « stuffing » ; du pain assaisonné avec du jus de dinde et des légumes
3. une purée de pomme de terre
4. des haricots verts
5. des pommes de terre douces
6. du maïs, ou un gâteau de maïs
7. une tarte à la citrouille
8. d’autres tartes telles qu’une tarte aux pommes ou une tarte aux noix de pecan
9. du cidre

Au cours de ce qu’on appelle « le premier Thanksgiving », la fête qui a eu lieu entre les colons européens et les amérindiens en automne 1621, les colons et les amérindiens ont mangé des plats un peu différent. Il n’est pas certain qu’il y ait eu de la dinde, et il leur a manqué la farine (pas de tartes) et les pommes de terre (qui étaient toujours crues toxiques). Au lieu de cela, ils ont préparé de la venaison, du poisson, du homard, des citrouilles, des fruits rouges, des palourdes, et des prunes.

Ce premier Thanksgiving, qui était plutôt une fête de la récolte qu’une fête de Thanksgiving (de remerciements à Dieu) durait trois jours. Les années suivantes il n’a pas eu lieu. C’est le Président Lincoln en 1863 qui a fait instaurer Thanksgiving comme jour férié, le dernier jeudi du mois Novembre.

Aujourd’hui Thanksgiving n’est ni religieux ni politique. C’est un jour ou l’on se rassemble en famille et mange la nourriture de notre pays. On remercie ceux qu’on aime, et on se rappelle tout ce qu’il est propice d’avoir. C’est pourquoi chez nous, c’est un jour tellement important, dans notre historie, notre culture, et nos familles.

Caramel Apple Pie

This apple pie is pretty much perfect. The crust is flaky and soft, the filling is thick and dense, and the sauce is a balance of cinnamon and caramel.

There are some good tips in this recipe for pie-making in general. First, the apples are sliced very thinly and layered so that the baked pie will be dense and meaty, with no air pockets.

Also, I think the sugar sprinkling on top has quite a nice finishing effect, and requires about 2 seconds of extra effort. After brushing the top pie crust with egg white (which should always be done to make the top a healthy shiny brown--a good pie avoids a dull pallor just like a sorority girl in a bikini), sprinkle on a mixture of cinnamon sugar.

The only tricky step is making the caramel sauce. Be extremely careful not to burn it, which means keeping a close eye and stirring regularly (most recipes say to stir constantly, which is better, but it wastes so much time!). After you have caramelized the sugar, make sure to add enough cream and red wine so that the sauce won’t turn into caramel again when it cools (meaning, hard as glass—that wouldn’t go so well in the pie). The first time I made the sauce I reduced the liquid too much, so when it cooled it hardened into caramel and I was forced to reheat it in order to melt it and add more liquid. By doing this the sauce burned and I had to start over again, with many curses. You should add enough liquid to start so that the sauce itself is liquid, and then continue to simmer until it thickens into sauce consistency. It is essential to taste the caramel sauce before you add it to the pie. If the taste is bitter, you’ve burned it and you’ll have to throw it out and start over.

Another note: the recipe calls for red wine in the caramel sauce, but if you prefer use milk instead.

The Ultimate Caramel Apple Pie

Crust:
3 cups all-purpose flour
Pinch salt
3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, cold, cut in chunks
2 eggs separated, (yolks for the pastry, whites for the glaze)
3 tablespoons ice water, plus more if needed

Caramel Apples:
1 cup sugar, plus 1/4 cup for the top
3 tablespoons water
1/4 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup red wine
1/2 vanilla bean, split and scraped
1 lemon, halved
8 apples (recommended: Granny Smith and Gala)
1 tablespoon flour
1 cinnamon stick, freshly grated
1/4 cup unsalted butter

1. To make the pastry, combine the flour and salt together in a large bowl. Cut in the chunks of cold butter with a pastry blender, a little at a time, until the dough resembles cornmeal. Add the 2 egg yolks and the ice water, and blend for a second just to pull the dough together and moisten. Be careful not to overwork the dough. Form the dough into a ball, wrap it tightly in plastic wrap, and let it rest in the refrigerator for 1 hour.

2. While the dough is resting, prepare the filling.

3. To make the caramel sauce: place the sugar and water in a small pot and cook, stirring constantly, over medium-low heat until the sugar has melted and caramelized, about 10 minutes.

4. Remove the pot from the burner and add the cream and wine slowly. It may bubble and spit, so be careful. When the sauce has calmed down, return it to the flame, add the vanilla bean and heat it slowly, until the wine and caramel are smooth and continue to slowly cook until reduced by half. Remove from the heat and cool until thickened.

5. Fill a large bowl with cold water and squeeze in the lemon juice. Peel the apples with a paring knife, cut them in half, and remove the core. Put the apple halves in the lemon-water (this will keep them from going brown). Toss the apples with the flour and cinnamon.

6. Take the dough out of the refrigerator, unwrap the plastic, and cut the ball in half. Rewrap and return 1 of the balls to the refrigerator, until ready for the top crust. Let the dough rest on the counter for 15 minutes so it will be pliable enough to roll out. Using a rolling pin, roll out the dough on a lightly floured surface into a 12-inch circle. Carefully roll the dough up onto the pin and lay it inside a 10-inch glass pie pan. Press the dough into the pan so it fits tightly.

7. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

8. Slice a couple of the apples at a time using a mandolin or a very sharp knife. The apples need to be thinly sliced so that as the pie bakes, they collapse on top of each other with no air pockets. This makes a dense, meaty apple pie. Cover the bottom of the pastry with a layer of apples, shingling the slices so there are no gaps. Ladle about 2 ounces of the cooled red wine caramel sauce evenly over the apple slices. Repeat the layers, until the pie is slightly overfilled and domed on the top; the apples will shrink down as the pie cooks. Top the apples with pieces of the butter.

9. Now, roll out the other ball of dough just as you did the first. Brush the bottom lip of the pie pastry with a little beaten egg white to form a seal. Place the pastry circle on top of the pie, and using some kitchen scissors, trim off the overhanging excess from around the pie. Crimp the edges of dough together with your fingers to make a tight seal. Cut slits in the top of the pie so steam can escape while baking. Place the pie on a sheet tray and tent it with a piece of aluminum foil, so the crust does not cook faster than the apples.

10. Bake the caramel apple pie for 25 minutes on the middle rack. In a small bowl, combine the remaining 1/4 cup of sugar with the freshly grated cinnamon. Remove the foil from the pie and brush the top with the remaining egg white. Sprinkle evenly with the cinnamon sugar and return to the oven. Continue to bake for another 25 minutes, until the pie is golden and bubbling. Let the apple pie rest at room temperature for at least 1 hour to allow the fruit pectin to gel and set; otherwise the pie will fall apart when you cut into it.

Jerusalem Artichoke

Je n’ai jamais entendu parler d’un artichaut de Jérusalem avant qu’une amie française l’ait amenée chez moi pour un dîner la semaine dernière. Je ne l’avais d’ailleurs jamais vu un non plus—c’est un légume hideux ; il a l’air d’une patate qui a poussé en terre radioactive, avec des bosses bizarres et des grosseurs partout ainsi que des poils longs et épais qui l’enroulent. Quand Aurélie a ouvert le sac pour me montrer l’artichaut, j’ai reculé en horreur—quelle création démoniaque était-ce? Mais, elle m’a assuré qu’il n’était pas fétide.

« Mais s’il ne vient pas de l’enfer, d’où vient-il ? » ai-je demandé. « Ah, Jérusalem, surement ! » Aurélie n’était pas sure.

En fait—qui aurait cru—ça vient des États-Unis, de l’est et du centre, plus précisément. L’explorateur français Samuel de Champlain a découvert l’artichaut de Jérusalem au Massachussetts en 1605 et l’a renvoyé en France, mais la plante était cultivée bien auparavant par les amérindiens.

Malgré son nom, l’artichaut de Jérusalem ne vient pas de Jérusalem. Et ce n’est pas un artichaut non plus ! C’est une espèce de tournesol. Comme il est bizarre, cet artichaut !

Je ne savais pas comment préparer l’artichaut, Aurélie m’a donc montré sa préparation en soupe. C’est très simple :

Soupe d’Artichauts de Jérusalem

Artichauts de Jérusalem
Un peu de lait
Un peu de crème de soja (ou crème)
Sel et poivre

1. Peler les artichauts et les couper en dés. Mettez-les dans une casserole remplie d’eau bouillante. Ajouter un peu de lait afin que l’eau soit nuageuse, car autrement les artichauts deviendront noirs.
2. Les faire cuire pendant 10 minutes, jusqu’à ce qu’ils soient doux.
3. Drainer et faire une purée dans un mixer. Ajouter de la crème, du sel, et du poivre.

Il se sert aussi bien en gratin qu’en salade.

L’artichaut de Jérusalem est riche en fer, et il contient aussi du potassium et de la vitamine C. Pourtant, il y a un défaut : ça provoque des gaz intestinaux.

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The Jerusalem Artichoke

What is a Jerusalem artichoke? It’s difficult to guess. Is it an artichoke from Jerusalem? Seems logical, but no. Is it (looking at the photo) some kind of cancerous potato? Nope. Is it the ugliest vegetable you’ve ever seen? Likely, but that doesn’t answer the question.

Despite the name, the Jerusalem artichoke is neither from Jerusalem, nor is it an artichoke. It’s a species of sunflower, and here we’re concerned with the edible root. It is found naturally across the eastern and middle United States. In 1605 the French explorer Samuel de Champlain encountered this homely root (it had been widely cultivated before by American Indians) and sent it back to France, suggesting that it tasted similar to artichoke. Hence, 400 years later my French friend Aurelie is opening a grocery bag to show me a dirty knobbled thing with wiry hairs coming out of it and telling me we’re going to have Jerusalem artichoke for dinner.

She served a soup, which was great, and this vegetable would make a great gratin, salad, or side dish as well. The texture is much like a potato, but the flavor is sharper and very distinct.

Nutrition advantage: The Jerusalem artichoke is rich in iron, and is also a good source of potassium and vitamin C.

Social disadvantage: In the words of a 1621 publication Gerard’s Herbal, "which way soever they be dressed and eaten, they stir and cause a filthy loathsome stinking wind within the body, thereby causing the belly to be pained and tormented, and are a meat more fit for swine than men." So might be best to skip Jerusalem artichoke on your next candlelight dinner date.

Jerusalem Artichoke Soup

Jerusalem artichokes
2 Tbsp. milk
Cream
Salt and pepper

1. Peel the artichokes and cube. Fill a pot with water and add the milk to cloud the water. It is necessary to cloud the water because if the light reaches the artichokes they will turn black (not appetizing).
2. Add the artichokes and boil until tender.
3. Strain and make a puree in a blender. Add a touch of cream, and season with salt and pepper.