© 2012 The Joy of Cooking Trust and the MRB Revocable Trust
One of my first-ever cooking projects was making the Pommes de Terre Anna from Mastering the Art of French Cooking. I must have seen a photo of it somewhere, and all those crispy, browned layers of potatoes lacquered with butter spoke to me.
Candy-making is one area of cooking that I have very little experience with. I make a mean salted caramel, and I do a pumpkin seed brittle on occasion that can make you swoon, but generally speaking, I don't enjoy making candy because the results are too sweet, and you wind up with more than you could possibly eat.
Back before we moved across the country, when I was able to attend my family's gigantic Thanksgiving potluck, I always brought roasted vegetables.
I love Brussels sprouts. I know that to some, this will make anything I say hereafter suspect. I know that I live in a country where people love to hate Brussels sprouts. It's like some kind of horrible vibe that starts resonating in childhood and continues into adulthood.
I wrote this post for a blog swap with the lovely Autumn Giles of Autumn Makes and Does. Her blog is really wonderful--clean, unpretentious, and loaded with simple recipes.
Given our cultural predilection for breeding the most uniform, shelf stable, and prettiest fruits and vegetables, it's a wonder the quince has survived our agricultural fervor.
A package of fresh chorizo will make a girl do wild things.
It might just prompt her to create a slightly offbeat Thanksgiving side dish.
There's nothing wrong with Thanksgiving as it stands. The turkey, the stuffing, the cranberry sauce, the pumpkin pie.
But do you ever feel, in the part of your soul that loves spice and surprise, that Thanksgiving is a little...bland?
Well-marbled short ribs turn into a luxurious treat after a long braise. The flavorful meat falls off the bone, and the pan juices from short ribs make for an exceptional, velvety sauce. We opted for red wine as the braising liquid and a large addition of mushrooms—which gets reduced into a classic marchand du vin (mushroom wine sauce).
I hadn't thought about it until recently, but our apartment in Portland is the first place I've ever lived that doesn't have a yard. No grass, no trees, not even a balcony for potted plants.