Matters of Taste

Thinking Outside the Plastic Pint Berry Box

It’s a pretty safe bet that, as you sit there reading this post, Janie Hibler is elbow-deep in fresh berries.  The award-winning cookbook author, who’s well known for her expertise on such Pacific Northwest fare as Dungeness crab and wild salmon, is particularly crazy about berries. She emailed me today, from her log cabin in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains, about her afternoon adventure:

"picking succulent trailing wild Pacific blackberry (the reason why the boysenberry and loganberry are so delicious—it’s part of their gene pool), wild black raspberries, red and blue huckleberries, and salmonberries.”

 

Hibler’s book, The Berry Bible, was originally published in 2004. But this summer Amazon Encore (Amazon.com’s publishing imprint) re-released a paperback version. It’s available at Amazon.com for $12.21.

In addition to some 175 recipes, the book is an encyclopedia of varieties -- cloudberries, Juneberries and the blue honeysuckle were news to me.  There’s also practical info such as how to buy, wash, dry and freeze. But what I love most about the book is the inspiration it provides.

For me, a strawberry has always been something to eat from a bowl with heavy cream, combine with rhubarb in a pie, or plop on top of shortcake. But The Berry Bible got me to think outside the plastic pint basket.

 

Curried Halibut with Strawberry-Papaya Relish was a scrumptious  celebration of summer (with fresh Alaskan halibut). Hibler’s American Barbecue Sauce, with fresh blackberries, ketchup, and pimenton (the smoked “paprika” of Spain), is luscious. And her Upside-Down Cranberry-Pumpkin Polenta Cake belongs on every Thanksgiving table.

The halibut, pictured here, is remarkably easy to make, too. Just dust the filet with curry powder and salt, pan-sear, and top with the salsa of diced fruits, red onion and cilantro. The colorful entrée is served with fragrant basmati rice and a sauce of canned coconut milk that’s warmed and slightly thickened in the sauté pan.

And now that I have The Berry Bible on my bookshelf, I’m out looking for other fresh berries.

Next time I come face to face with a basket of  blackberries, I  definitely won’t be plunking them in a fruit salad. Not with Hibler’s Blackberry-Port Lamb Shanks waiting for me on page 141.

Perfecting Polenta

In this week’s New York Times column, “The  Minimalist,” Mark Bittman writes about “Taking the Fear Out of Polenta.” For such a simple creation – it’s just cornmeal and water, forpetessake – polenta has a bad reputation among home cooks.

“Polenta, as we know, suffers from the misguided belief that it’s a hassle to make. Experts say you have to “rain in the grain” — adding the cornmeal to a large pot of water while constantly stirring to avoid lumps. And purists can be fussy about what type of cornmeal to use. These notions serve to intimidate the novice or average cook,” Bittman writes.

His recipe calls for us to make a “slurry” of cornmeal and cold water in a pan, then bring it to a boil over not-too-high heat and simmer until ready. Sound advice.

But, I still prefer chef Gordon Hamersley’s version, which I discovered (and blogged about) last year and found so easy and dependable that I now make it frequently, topped with some type of stew or braised meat. It’s ideal fare during these cold, wet months.

Hamersley, who’s won just about every food award there is during the 22 years that Hamersley’s Bistro has been open in Boston’s South End, also suggests a slurry of cornmeal and water. However, he lets the mixture steep a few minutes then adds it to a pot of boiling water. I find the resulting cooked polenta to be significantly creamier than polenta cooked the traditional way (“rain in the grain”) or Bittman’s way (adding polenta to cold water).

Here’s Hamersley’s recipe, taken from his book “Bistro Cooking at Home” which is available at Amazon.com. You can top it with the lip-smacking Chicken Piperade that I blogged about last time. Or, for a hearty, handsome and total no-brainer dinner, top the polenta with Cuisine Solutions’ frozen New Zealand Lamb Shanks. Packaged individually, the fully cooked shanks are tender and delicious in a savory veal stock sauce with mint and rosemary. A box of  four huge shanks (52 ounces) costs less than $20 at Costco. The luscious-looking polenta in this photo is from a charming and useful blog called "MyHusbandHatesVeggies."

 

BASIC POLENTA

2 quarts water

1 ½ teaspoons kosher salt, or more to taste

2 cups medium-ground cornmeal, or a combination of fine and medium

Bring 1 quart of water and the salt to a boil in a large saucepan.

In a bowl, combine the cornmeal and the remaining quart of water and stir to combine. Let the cornmeal absorb some of the water for about 2 minutes.

Gradually whisk the polenta and water from the bowl into the boiling water. Continue to whisk until the polenta begins to thicken, about 5 minutes.

Lower the heat to low and cook the polenta, stirring well every few minutes, until the polenta begins to pull away from the sides of the pan and has a soft, creamy texture, about 45 minutes. (If the polenta sputters and makes a mess, partially cover the pan.)

If you are making basic polenta to serve as is, add 5 tablespoons softened unsalted butter and ½ cup grated Parmesan cheese and stir well to combine. As the polenta sits, it will begin to thicken. If it becomes thicker than you like, add a litte more water or some milk and stir to combine.

 

 

 

 

Chicken and Chai: Comfort Food at its Best

Oh, the weather outside is frightful….and I’m not just singing a Christmas carol. Cold weather has been wreaking havoc across the nation. Even Southern Californians, accustomed to having Christmas breakfast on the picnic table in the backyard, were hit recently with frigid temperatures and gale-force winds.

That’s when I got out my favorite “stewy” cookbook, and discovered Naked Juices delicious Chai-Spiced Cider.

“Simply Stews: More Than 100 Savory One-Pot Meals” by Susan Wyler has been one of my go-to books for almost 15 years. When  I set out last week to make her Cider-Stewed Chicken with Fall Vegetables, I looked in three local supermarkets for fresh cider and came up dry. (I know the Farmers Market would have had it from nearby apple town Julian, CA, but I didn’t get to the market that week.)  At Whole Foods, I found the Naked Juice product.

The resulting stew, with dry white wine and cider vinegar to balance the spicy sweetness of the juice, was delicious. Wyler calls for (and I used) chicken pieces with bone and skin. However I found the skin superfluous in the braised dish. You could also use boneless breasts and thighs with minimal loss of flavor.

Here’s my version of her recipe. “Simply Stews” sells for $12 on Amazon.com.

 

CHAI-SPICED CIDER-STEWED CHICKEN WITH FALL VEGETABLES

Serves 4

1 (3- to 3 ½-pound) chicken (or about 1 ¾ pounds of  boneless pieces)

¼ cup flour

Salt

Freshly ground pepper

2 tablespoons butter

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

1 large onion, minced

2 cups Naked Juice Chai-Spiced Cider

1 cup dry white wine

½ teaspoon dried thyme leaves

1 bay leaf

1 cup chicken stock or broth

1 teaspoon cider vinegar

4 large carrots, peeled, halved length-wide, cut diagonally into 1-inch pieces

4 large gold potatoes, peeled and cut into 1-inch chunks

2 medium rutabagas (or turnips), peeled and cut into 1-inch chunks

¼ cup heavy cream

 

Season the flour with salt and pepper. Dredge the chicken pieces in the flour and shake any excess back into the bowl. Save flour.

Ina large flameproof casserole, melt the butter in the oil over moderate to moderately high heat. Add the chicken in 2 batches and saute, turning, until golden, about 8 minutes per batch. Remove to a plate. Pour off all but 1 tablespoon oil from the pan.

Add the onions to the same casserole and cook over low heat until softened and fragrant, about 10 minutes. Pour in the white wine, scraping up all the browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Add the cider, thyme and bay leaf.

Add the chicken stock, vinegar, ½ teaspoon salt and ¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper. Return the chicken to the pan, along with any juices that have collected on the plate. Add the carrots, potatoes and rutabagas. Cover and simmer over low heat until the chicken and vegetables are tender, about 30 to 40 minutes.

When the chicken is done, remove it to a serving dish, cover to keep warm. Dissolve about 1 tablespoon of the reserved seasoned flour in 2 tablespoons additional stock or water, Stir into the sauce and boil over high heat for a minute or two until slightly thickened. (This step can be skipped if the sauce already has a satisfactory consistency.) Stir in the cream and season with additional salt and pepper to taste. Return the chicken to the stew and simmer another minute or two. Serve in shallow soup bowls, with grilled bread.

 

Giving Thanks for Butternut and Burrata

Butternut squash is the darling of today’s chefs who tuck it into ravioli, fold it into risotto, mash and top it with frizzled leeks, puree it with ginger for a sublime soup, and much, much more.

I’m a huge fan of the homely, hard-to-peel wonder. Last fall, while traveling in Austria, I managed to eat butternut squash soup in a different restaurant every day for 21 days. My post about the adventure includes photos that’ll make your mouth water.

 

But recently, I found a new object of my affection in Napa Valley. That would be the combination of butternut and burrata at Bottega, chef/restaurateur Michael Chiarello’s newest restaurant in the Yountville.

(For those who haven't made the acquaintance of this insanely rich Italian cheese, it's a type of fresh mozzarella that's wrapped around heavy cream. Tear it apart or poke in a fork and you're awash in pure, sweet, fresh cream goodness.)

Bottega's Antipasti menu said simply Burrata. But, the descriptive words underneath made me drool.

“Creamy mozzarella burrata with roasted butternut squash, caramelized mushrooms and shallots, brown butter vinaigrette, balsamic caviar.”

It was a “Be still, my heart” moment.

 

And the dish delivered, big time. Large fleshy, butter-blessed cubes of orange squash mingled with chewy bits of mushroom (the server said porcini) and soft, golden shallot shards. A couple of miraculously moist blobs of burrata clung to the heap, and the clever vinaigrette (who’s ever heard of a butter vinaigrette?) laced the veggies and swirled around the plate.

“Thanksgiving,” I whispered as I ate the last morsel of a portion that could have easily served four.  “This is pure Thanksgiving.”

But I couldn’t wait that long to try it at home. My version (pictured here) wasn’t as lovely as Chiarello’s...my cubes of squash were not as firm and distinct. And I chose to sauté  a cup of chopped sweet onion with the mushrooms instead of the shallots. But the final result was as delicious and comforting as his.

The butternut squash triumph wasn’t the only thing to celebrate at Bottega. A quivering pecorino cheese pudding,  served with a crispy, crumb-cloaked soft-boiled egg and oven-roasted rapini, was fabulous.  As was a salad of roasted golden and chiogga beets dressed with pistachio vinaigrette and Point Reyes blue cheese. And a pasta with Bolognese sauce that sounded commonplace was remarkable for the depth of flavor of its veal, pork and porcini sauce.

 

 The atmosphere at Bottega, too, is a draw. Located in Yountville's historic Marketplace 1870 , the restaurant features roaring fireplaces, a stylish lounge with good-looking people two-deep at the bar, a sprawling outdoor terrace and several pretty dining rooms with views of the bustling  open kitchen. 

For folks who still haven't settled on a menu for today's feast (that would be those risk-takers who were at Vons and Whole Foods last night), here's the recipe for the butternut and burrata special. Plain roasted turkey is an ideal complement for the richness of the dish.

Everyone else can consider it for the December holidays.

Roasted Butternut Squash and Mushrooms with Burrata

Serves 6

 

3 ½ cups mushrooms, any variety, sliced or cut into small chunks

5 cups 1-inch cubes of peeled butternut squash, about 2 ½ pounds

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided use (more, to taste)

4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

2 shallots, peeled and thinly sliced

Sea salt

Freshly ground black pepper

12 ounces burrata

 

Brown Butter Vinaigrette

6 tablespoons unsalted butter  

1 tablespoon minced sage

2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

Pinch of salt, kosher or gray salt

 

Preheat oven to 400 degrees,

Heat a large ovenproof skillet over high heat. Add 2 tablespoons butter and 2 tablespoons olive oil. When the butter has melted, add the squash cubes to the pan and cook, shaking the pan occasionally, until the squash is caramelized, about 5 minutes. Slide the pan into the oven and roast until the squash looks brown on the edges, about 20 minutes.

While the squash roasts, make the brown butter vinaigrette. Melt  the 6 tablespoons butter in a saute pan. Brown the sage for one minute, then  pour in the vinegar and let it reduce by half. Don’t stir or touch it. Just keep it on a simmer, gently reducing until thickened. Add the salt at the end.

To sauté the mushrooms, add the remaining 2 tablespoons butter and 2 tablespoons olive oil to a saute pan over medium-high heat. Add the mushrooms, cooking until they begin to release their water, about 8 minutes. Add the shallots to the pan and sauté until brown, tossing so they cook evenly. Season with salt and pepper and add another tablespoon of butter if they look dry. Gently fold mushroom mixture into the squash cubes.

To serve, divide the squash-mushroom mix evenly among 6 plates. With your hands, tear the burrata into medium-small pieces, scattering it over the vegetables. Drizzle with the vinaigrette.

 

DO-IT-YOURSELF: Great Restaurant Dishes at Home

There’s just one thing better than stumbling upon an out-of-this-world dish while vacationing in some far-flung city or village.

And that’s getting the recipe for the dish so you can re-create it at home whenever you want.

Over the weekend, I translated one of those recipes from German into English and tested it in my kitchen using ounces and tablespoons instead of grams and Esslöffel.  The charming  servers, candlelit sidewalk tables and mid-summer-night neighborhood scene at Restaurant Skopik & Lohn in Vienna, Austria were missing.

But the Ziegenkäsemousse mit Rot Paprika Chutney (translation: Goat Cheese Mousse with Red Bell Pepper Chutney) tasted every bit as good. (This photo was taken in June when the chutney featured yellow cherry tomatoes and pears.) I'm convinced that the whipped cream in the recipe is the key ingredient. Nobody does whipped cream like the Viennese do whipped cream.

Next week I’ll be teaching a cooking class at Great News! Discount Cookware and Cooking School  in Pacific Beach (858-270-1582). The theme of the class: The best restaurant recipes I’ve discovered in my 30 years as a food critic. Skopik & Lohn's sensational goat cheese mousse will be among them. Class members get to enjoy all the finished dishes with a glass of wine.

This is a perfect hors d’oeuvre or appetizer for Thanksgiving Day….just a little nosh that perks up the palate but leaves plenty of room for the main attraction.

 

Goat Cheese Mousse with Gingered Red Bell Pepper Chutney

SKOPIK & LOHN, Vienna, Austria

Makes about 4 cups

6 ounces goats milk yogurt

4 ounces quark (Vermont Butter & Cheese Quark is available at Whole Foods)

2 ounces soft fresh goat cheese

6 ounces heavy cream, whipped

Salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste

3 tablespoons snipped chives

1 envelope gelatin

½ cup water

Sprinkle the gelatin over ½ cup water in a microwavable cup; let sit for 5 minutes. Then place cup in microwave for 10 seconds to warm slightly. Stir to be sure there are no crystals remaining.

In a large bowl, blend the quark, yogurt and mashed goat cheese with an electric mixer at low speed or with a whisk. Add the chives and salt and pepper to taste. In a separate bowl, whip the heavy cream. Gently fold the whipped cream into the cheese mixture. Refrigerate for 3 hours. Serve two small, egg-shaped portions on each appetizer plate, along with a spoonful of chutney (follows) and thin toasts or crisped pita bread. The mousse can also be mounded into one serving bowl and served with crackers and crudités.

Gingered Red Bell Pepper Chutney

Makes about 1 cup

3 red bell peppers, divided use

2-3 tablespoons grated fresh ginger, divided use

2 tablespoons white balsamic vinegar

4 ounces water

1 clove garlic, minced

Pinch salt

Leaves from 2 stems fresh thyme

1 tablespoon sugar

Wash, dry, seed and chop the 3 bell peppers into approximate ¼-inch cubes. Place the cubes from 2 of the peppers in a small, heavy saucepan along with 1-2 tablespoons of the grated ginger, balsamic vinegar, water, minced garlic, salt, thyme leaves and sugar. Bring to a boil, then lower heat and cook slowly until the peppers are very soft and almost all the liquid is evaporated, about 25 minutes.

Add the remaining cubed bell pepper and cook 5 minutes longer. Season to taste with salt and add the remaining grated ginger to taste. Serve at room temperature or refrigerate until ready to serve.

 

Wild About Mushrooms

American shoppers are accustomed to getting any food they want at the supermarket any time of year. Raspberries in the dead of winter?  South America’s gotcha covered. White asparagus in October? Hothouse varieties to the rescue.

 

But somehow the mushroom plays by different rules. Sure, you can get cultivated white mushrooms, also known as button mushrooms, year round. Shiitake enoki, and cremini , too. But there are many types of  mushrooms that can only be found deep in the woods, and only during the autumn months.  Mushroom connoisseurs swear by the  more intense, interesting and rewarding flavor of wild mushrooms, and go crazy each fall when treasures like the chanterelle ( a trumpet-shaped, delicately flavored mushroom that has never been successfully cultivated) hit the produce stands.

 

Nadia Frigeri is one of those mushroom lovers. The accomplished cooking teacher and  European food tour guide, taught a “mushroom” class last week at San Diego’s Cooking with Class Cooking School.  My son, Ben, gave me the class as a birthday gift and went with me.

We arrived to find Nadia elbow deep in six or seven types of mushrooms. As she sorted, washed, chopped and sautéed, the animated cook shared valuable information and delicious recipes.  She also shared her passion. I probably haven’t cooked a mushroom in my kitchen in five years It’s just not an ingredient that I often have a hankering for. But this week, armed with my new “skills” and Nadia’s user-friendly recipes, I’m taking full advantage of the season.

 Valuable tidbits from Nadia Frigeri :

 *** With chanterelles, cut off only the tiniest bit of  dark, hard edge. Every other part of the mushroom is edible and easy to clean. Bugs don’t like chanterelles.

 *** Generally speaking it’s better to wash mushrooms quickly in a bowl of water than wipe them with a cloth or mushroom brush. Chanterelles can sit in the water for a few minutes; spongier types of mushrooms should be removed quickly before they absorb too much water.

 *** Portobello mushrooms and the smaller portobellini are best grilled or broiled whole.

 *** Do not use tough shiitake stems in cooking. They are good only for mushroom broth.

 *** Don’t store mushrooms in plastic bags. They will sweat and lose their water content.

 *** Fontina cheese is ideal for cooking because it melts evenly, unlike other cheeses that separate into a fat puddle and a chewy glob.

 *** Cut cooled polenta into squares or discs with dental floss, not a knife.

 *** Shiitake mushrooms come in two grades: Grade 1 is more delicate, more flavorful and substantially more expensive than Grade 2.

*** Use Blue Castello, a triple-crème blue cow’s milk cheese from Denmark,  if Gorgonzola is too costly or not available.

*** Add a large pinch of cayenne pepper when cooking polenta for a brighter flavor.

*** San Diegans are blessed with a top-notch source of wild and cultitvated mushrooms that cost a fraction of  mushrooms in area supermarkets. Specialty Produce is a wholesale operation that is also open to the public. The produce offerings are extraordinary, both in terms of quality and variety. Nadia estimates that mushrooms at Specialty Produce cost about one-third the same product at Whole Foods.

My son and I loved Nadia’s Filet Mignon with Gorgonzola Cheese and Mushroom Sauce, and her Baked Portobellini Mushrooms Stuffed with Gorgonzola, Herbs and Breadcrumbs that were served on polenta (pictured here). But it was this recipe – roasted slices of butternut squash topped with mixed mushrooms and fontina cheese – that we’ve decided to show off on our Thanksgiving table this year.

 

ZUCCA E FUNGHI GRATINATI

(Roasted Butternut with Mushrooms and Fontina Cheese)

Serves 8

 2-3 pounds butternut squash, peeled and cut into 3/4 –inch slices

Salt and freshly ground pepper

Extra virgin olive oil

 

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 to 1 ½ pounds mixed mushrooms, such as chanterelle, cremini, oyster and shiitake

2-3 garlic cloves, crushed and chopped or 1 tablespoon roasted garlic puree

¼ cup chopped Italian parsley leaves

½ cup chicken or vegetable broth, heated (optional)

½ cup grated Parmesan cheese or grated Swiss cheese

6-8 ounces Italian fontina or French raclette cheese, shredded

 

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.  Place the butternut squash slices on a large piece of parchment paper on a baking sheet, season with salt and pepper and drizzle with the oil. Bake for about 20 minutes or until the slices are tender but still firm. Remove from the oven and set aside.

Arrange the squash slices on a buttered baking dish, season with salt and pepper and sprinkle with the grated Parmesan cheese.

Quickly wash the mushrooms in a bowl of cool water. Pat dry with paper towels.

In a medium skillet, heat the butter and remaining oil.  Add mushrooms, garlic and parsley. Stir until the mushrooms start to soften and the garlic starts to color. Season with salt and pepper. Add broth, if desired, and cook for 3 or 4 minutes.

Spoon the cooked mushroom mixture over the squash slices, top with shredded fontina cheese and bake for about 15 minutes, or until cheese starts to bubble.

 

 

One-Upping Julia: Michel Richard's 'California Ratatouille'

RATATOUILLE, once just a tough word for Americans to pronounce, is now the hippest dish around.

It all started with the Disney movie of that name, in which a kitchen rodent nudges a human to new career highs. Before that, most Americans equated the traditional French dish with soggy eggplant and long hours of dicing and sautéing.

With the opening of the movie Julie & Julia, the veggie classic is once again in the limelight.

Personally, I’m thrilled. That means that now, when guests ask me what I’m making for dinner and I answer “ratatouille,” I no longer get the “say what?” response. By the way, the correct pronunciation is ra-ta-too-ee (unless you’re French, in which case it’s ra-ta-twee, the last syllable spit out with gusto).

I’ve been a huge fan of the dish since the early ‘70s when I learned to make it from Julia’s “Mastering the Art of French Cooking.”  I would dutifully salt the zucchini and eggplant, slice the yellow onions and green bell peppers, and “peel, seed and juice” the tomatoes. After sauteeing each veggie by itself, I’d make three layers of the combo, separated by minced parsley, in a flame-orange Le Creuset dutch oven. The whole process took well over an hour and dirtied a lot of pans, and the cookbook, too.

Then there’s Wolfgang Puck’s ratatouille, served room temperature atop grilled swordfish, which I discovered one sunny afternoon at Ma Maison in Los Angeles.  It was the mid-seventies; Puck wasn’t even 30 years old.  It remains one of the most delicious things I ate in a career of ‘eating for a living.’

But it’s the ratatouille of another come-lately Californian that I cook at home all the time now. French-born Michel Richard, who opened trend-setting Citrus in Los Angeles in 1987 and now operates two award-winning restaurants in Washington, D.C., gives the dish a fresh, sparkling new look and taste. The vegetables – including corn kernels, red bell pepper, jalapeno and Anaheim chiles – are cooked quickly, with far less olive oil than the classic French version. Chili powder and chopped cilantro add an exciting new dimension. A splash of Champagne vinegar further punches up the flavors.

I make a large batch and use in on top of grilled swordfish and chicken breasts, tossed with pasta and buffalo mozzarella cheese, folded into leftover rice for an impromptu ‘risotto,’ and on top of Gruyere omelets.

Here’s the recipe (adapted) from “Michel Richard’s Home Cooking with a French Accent.” The book is available at Amazon.com.

CALIFORNIA RATATOUILLE

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium red onion, peeled and diced
1 large ear corn, kernels removed
1 large red bell pepper, cored, seeded and thinly sliced
1 large yellow bell pepper, cored, seeded and thinly sliced
1 poblano or anaheim chili, cored, seeded and minced
1 jalapeno chile, cored, seeded and minced
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 teaspoons chili powder
2 tablespoons fresh minced cilantro
1 medium zucchini, ends trimmed, quartered lengthwise and cut crosswise into 3/8-inch pieces
1 medium yellow crookneck squash, ends trimmed, cut into matchsticks to match zucchini
4 medium green onions (white and light green parts only), quartered  lengthwise and cut into ½ inch-pieces
2 medium tomatoes, halved crosswise, seeded and diced
½ cup tomato juice
1 tablespoon Champagne or white wine vinegar
Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a heavy large nonstick skillet, over medium-low heat. Add the onion, cover and cook until translucent, for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the corn, red pepper, yellow pepper, poblano and jalapeno; increase heat to medium and cook uncovered 5 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Add the 2 tablespoons of olive oil, chili powder and cilantro. Stir in the zucchini, yellow squash, green onion and tomatoes. Pour in the tomato juice and vinegar, increase heat to medium-high and cook until the vegetables are crisp-tender, for about 7  minutes, stirring occasionally. Season with salt and pepper. Serve immediately or cool for 15 to 30 minutes to lukewarm.

A Tart by any Other Name....Would Taste as Sweet

Jan Norris, a 26-year veteran of the Palm Beach Post  and one of the most knowledgeable and entertaining food editors I worked with during my years as Union-Tribune food editor, recently asked me about my favorite summer food memories. I wrote this 'ode to a plum tart' for her. It's included, along with the recollections of many other food writers, in a series about summery foods on her blog. 

 Pflaumenkuchen. I was flummoxed by the very sound of the word. Yet the syllables tripped off the tongue of the woman patting out the pie crust as easily as shiny little pebbles slipping downstream.

I had been dating a charming “Virginia Gentleman,” called “T” by his friends, for less than a month when he invited me to visit his parents’ home one late-August weekend. Little did I know that I’d marry him 11 months later. Little did I know that I’d get a fabulous Pflaumenkuchen recipe in the deal.

Pflaumen (pronounced flow (as in flower)- men) is the German word for prune plums. (Kuchen is cake, though this creation is more of a tart.) Also known as Italian Prune Plums, these precious nuggets are available for a very brief period --  two or three weeks max each summer, in late August and early September. They’re the size of a baby’s fist, slightly egg-shaped, with blue-purple skin, freestone pits (which separate easily) and yellowish flesh. Though they’re tasty eaten out of hand, prune plums are best cooked or baked, when they become soft, jammy and fragrant, with nicely caramelized edges.

But,  back to Carola Shiftan, who was born in a tiny village in East Germany and arrived in the United States towards the end of WWII, a few years before her son Thomas was born.  She was an elegant woman with a warm, welcoming personality and an exotic (to me) accent.  She liked to cook and bake, and had an impressive cookbook collection.

As a 20-year-old born-and-bred Bostonian, I knew little about European cuisines and even less about the guttural German language. But I watched and listened, fascinated, as she mixed a few ingredients in a bowl, lined a pie plate with the dough, and laid little purple plum slices neatly and tightly, side by side,  like a Rockettes chorus line.

When she died, just four months after our July 1969 wedding, I was given her well-worn  “Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volumes I and II.”  They were my introduction to the wonderful world of Julia.

But more importantly, on a faded piece of yellow legal paper folded up inside one of those books, I got the recipe for Pflaumenkuchen.

During the 40 years since then, my husband and I have awaited the end of August like little kids await Santa. I try to make the simple little tart several times during the “season,” and I just about cry the day I visit the market and find that they’re gone.

The Mürbeteig (loosely translated as “sweet dough”) is what the French would call pate brisee, but with a lot more sugar and butter. In fact, there’s so much butter involved that I have to use the little silver pie weights when I blind bake the shell.

After that, all that’s left to do is slice the plums, arrange them in concentric circles, sprinkle them with a bit of sugar and breadcrumbs (Progresso Plain is fine) and dot with a few more bits of butter.

Pflaumenkuchen is the epitome of summer food, the very essence of  “eating seasonally.” And in our house, it brings a dearly-missed loved one back to the table every time we make it.

Here’s my mother-in-law’s recipe.  I’m pretty casual about amounts of ingredients. Experiment and use what works best for you.

PFLAUMENKUCHEN

1 cup flour
1/3 cup sugar plus 2 teaspoons
Pinch salt
1 stick butter, cold, cut into small pieces
1 egg yolk
2-3 tablespoons ice water, as needed
About 16 Italian prune plums
2 teaspoons plain breadcrumbs

Place flour, sugar, salt and butter pieces into a food processor, reserving 4 or 5 little pieces of butter for later. Process in short bursts until mixture starts to have the texture of oatmeal. Add egg yolk and continue to process in short bursts until dough starts to come together in a ball. Add ice water, as necessary, to facilitate this.

Remove from food processor. Form gently into a ball, Dust with flour. Wrap in waxed paper or plastic wrap and refrigerate for an hour or so.

Roll out dough when it’s firm, patting it into a 10-inch fluted tart pan with removable bottom. Blind bake the pastry shell, filling with pie weights.

In the meantime, wash, pit and cut each Italian prune plum into 6 or 8 pieces. Arrange them in pie tart in concentric circles. (If you run out, you can make a row of sliced peach, nectarine or another type of plum.) Sprinkle with breadcrumbs and extra sugar. Dot with leftover butter bits. Bake in 350-degree oven for about 15 minutes, until plums are soft and jammy.

Chairlift to Heaven

Led Zeppelin had it wrong. It’s a chairlift that whisks you up to heaven when you’re in the Grödnertal (Gardena Valley) of Italy’s northernmost Süd Tirol (Alto Adige) region.

 A one-person chairlift.

A rickety wooden contraption with a makeshift metal “safety” bar.

A chairlift that looks, horrifyingly, to be about the same vintage as me.

That’s the chairlift that ferried us uphill for 20 minutes from a town called St. Ulrich to a magical mountain-top land of forests, meadows, meandering paths, rustic inns, 360-degree views, wild flowers and wonderful comfort food, including a scrumptious tiramisu.

We arrived at the lift at noon, after leaving our car in the St. Ulrich underground parking lot and hiking up the hillside for about five minutes. There was no line for the ride, so the operator gave each of our backpacks its own chair, then gestured for us to stand on the yellow painted feet on the concrete platform. Within 60 seconds, I was alone with Mother Nature, listening to the cacophonic symphony of the town’s church bells which peel for 15 full minutes each day at noon. When they ceased, the silence of the forest was eerie, punctuated every now and then by chirping birds, running streams and rustling trees.

On top, and reachable only by foot and chairlift, sits Berghaus Raschötz (berghaus translates as “mountain inn;” Raschötz or Resciesa in Italian, is the name of the surrounding natural park).  Owned and operated by Marlene Schenk and her husband Peter, the building has been a “refuge” since the 1950s but was restored and enlarged a few years ago to include a half-dozen supremely comfortable, balconied rooms.

(There is a sketchy dirt road linking the building to the town below but only the innkeepers in the area have access. In the summer, Oban, the Schenks’ affable golden retriever rides up to the inn in the family SUV. In winter, which is the inn’s busiest season, he rides in the chairlift, all 80 pounds of him firmly planted in Peter’s lap.)

We spent two nights in Berghaus Raschötz, hiking during the day, playing Bananagrams (available at Amazon.com) over beers in the late afternoon, eating fabulous Süd Tirol food prepared by India-born Ram Khanna, and sleeping like babies under fluffy down comforters. Each morning, we awoke to a “bell chorus” courtesy of the local cows, and slid into the comfy wooden booths of the breakfast room for a spread of cheeses, meats, yogurt, fruits and great coffee.

Frau Schenk shared with us her recipe for tiramisu, a remarkably simple creation that I was able to prepare in my own kitchen in less than 30 minutes. My version wasn’t as good as that of Berghaus Raschötz, perhaps because they use fresh, local mascarpone, while I used a product imported from Italy probably a couple of months ago.

But the final product was light and creamy, and a delicious reminder of two idyllic days spent in heaven.

(I’ll have more about the hikes we made and the lunches we enjoyed during those hikes in coming posts.)

Here’s Frau Schenk’s recipe. Her instructions are pretty casual. Feel free to improvise the amounts.

BERGHAUS RASCHÖTZ TIRAMISU
Serves 8

1 pound mascarpone
2 tablespoons powdered sugar
4 large eggs, separated
Rum to taste (I used about ¼ cup)
Savoiardi biscuits (I used Vicenzovo)
Cold coffee (espresso is better than brewed coffee)
Cocoa, to taste

Whip the mascarpone, sugar, egg yolks, and rum together.
In a separate bowl, beat the egg whites until soft peaks form. Fold egg whites into mascarpone mixture.
Dunk the biscuits in cold coffee quickly and crumble into bite-sized pieces. Let sit on a plate for a few minutes.
In a serving dish, place a layer of the mascarpone mixture; scatter biscuits over it; cover with another layer of mascarpone.
Refrigerate for at least 2 hours. Just before serving, place cocoa in a strainer and sift lightly over the top of the tiramisu.

Food for the Fourth

Getting food to fit a Fourth of July theme is usually a tortured and not terribly tasty mission. But I discovered a couple of terrific recipes on RecipeGirl, the popular, dependable and visually attractive Web site.

One patriotic side dish, a perfect accompaniment to steaks and burgers from the backyard grill, is RecipeGirl’s Red, White and Blue Potato Salad. Multi-hued fingerling potatoes  are in the marketplace right now (and a bargain at Costco stores). In this dish, they’re teamed with hard-boiled egg, red onion, fresh dill and chives and a  spunky Dijon mustard vinaigrette.

The site’s Red, White and Blueberry Cheesecake Bars are far more sophisticated (and delicious) than the predictable layered Jello creations and cupcakes schmeared wth garish blue frosting.  These elegant bars are packed with seasonal fruits, and sturdy enough to pack up and bring to a picnic or potluck. Here's the recipe. Check out the Web site for lots more holiday fare.

Red, White and Blueberry Cheesecake Bars

1½ cups graham cracker crumbs
½ stick (4 Tbsp.) butter, melted
1½ packages (12 ounces) reduced-fat cream cheese
¾ cup granulated sugar
¼ cup lowfat milk
2 Tbs cornstarch
2 Tbs fresh lemon juice
zest of one lemon
3 large eggs
1 cup fresh raspberries (more or less, as desired)
¾ cup fresh blueberries

1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Line an 8×8-inch pan with aluminum foil. Spray lightly with cooking spray.

2. In a small bowl, mix crumbs and melted butter. Press mixture firmly into the bottom of the prepared pan.

3. In a food processor (or with an electric mixer) blend cream cheese, eggs, milk, sugar, cornstarch, lemon juice, and lemon zest just until smooth. Do not overbeat.

4. Pour the cream cheese mixture on top of the crumb crust. Scatter raspberries and blueberries on top.

5. Bake 35 to 40 minutes, or until touch to center feels slightly firm and set.

6. Cool completely before cutting. Use foil to lift cheesecake out of pan and onto a cutting board. Use a thin, sharp knife to cut into clean-looking bars (wiping blade clean with a paper towel between cuts). Refrigerate until ready to serve.

Servings: 16