morsels & sauces

In this  Cook Your Books  series, I have chosen 15 books to read in 2017 based on somewhat arbitrarily chosen categories. My theory (bogus it might turn out to be) is that all 15 of these books will somehow connect to food. And I plan to write about that food.  And it turns out that these entries are a sort of long-form blog-post. So settle in. This sixth installment is a book published this year . No doubt, I feel a kinship to Mark Twain. The summer of 1984, I went to  Hannibal, Missouri , with my family. One hundred miles north of St. Louis, Hannibal boasts being the boyhood home to Mark Twain and the inspiration for Tom Sawyer's spelunking adventures and picket fence white washing and for Huck Finn's hogshead barrel sleeping. It was also the site of numerous family and school trips. But one trip stands out in particular. Instructed to buy one souvenir, I lingered over plastic trinkets and snow globes and novelty spoons, I am sure. But something in me wa...

Many years ago, the husband made duck confit for cassoulet , and lordy, did my life become filled with questions. Why wasn't there more duck in it? Could we make duck confit? Where can one buy duck confit? How could we use duck confit? Is it wrong that I want to eat duck confit everyday?  I don't have answers, but I can at least show you how to make duck confit. Confit of anything (garlic, onions, chicken wings) is simply slowly cooking said anything in fat. Wait a minute... that sounds like frying. Well, close. It's the temperature thing that sets this apart from frying, and because you do this at such a low temperature, it means you're doing this for a long time, in hopes of producing a food that will keep for a long time. Which is not surprising, since the word confit  comes from the French confire , which simply means to preserve. (Want to learn more?   Don't hesitate to turn to food genius, Kenji Lopez-Alt .)  If you use  Ithai Schori and C...

Where has March gone?  Where is April going? I cannot keep track of this spring and it seems to be slipping away. For example, I made this duck confit (post on how to make duck confit itself, here ) and then I made this pasta and then two months passed and now we're here .  And here seems to be spring break, our move to Richmond (oh, Oakland how we already miss you), and a life lived out of boxes, which admittedly, we have been doing lately.  I have come to appreciate the well-labelled box, and to shake my fist at my past self who labelled far too many boxes "Miscellaneous."  Those are the most frightening boxes. Until we have a full kitchen, I am resurrecting old dinners that I haven't posted and am subsisting on pickles and popcorn. Both of which I love. Don't judge. I just love salt, okay?  Maybe I'll just get a salt lick for the new kitchen. It could happen. However, if you're feeling fancy (and we both know you and I li...

I have mentioned the husband's new hobby : cheese. That means I have been looking for multiple ways to use cheese. On its own, in omelettes, tucked into frittatas, crumbled onto salads.  And now: slathered onto crostini with a drizzle of lavender honey and a layer of sweet peaches.  This little appetizer is, let's admit it, overkill in terms of summer. Lavender! Honey! Mint! Peaches! And it needs just the right creaminess of goat cheese to root it down a little, to remind these crostini they need not be so brazenly ensconced in full-blown summer.   You could mix out the peaches for a slice of apple or a pile of pears. You could top the fruit with basil or even a pop of rosemary (imagine with me now--atop roasted figs). Sure, you could go these other, more autumnal or late summer routes. But this little toast refuses to let you get ahead of yourself and it insists you grab these peak days of July and hold onto them. Beca...

There's a lot of pressure when you put the definite article the  in front of anything. You're suggesting that yours is the one and o nly, the end all be all, the real deal. Such is the case with Ithai Schori and Chris Taylor's hamburger recipe from Twenty Dinners.  They claim that they, in fact, have  The  Hamburger Recipe. I'll let you determine this for yourself. But it is worth the experiment. The somewhat fatty meat lends moisture.  The bourbon lends noticeable and welcome sweetness.  The jalapeno gives a little heat and pop.  The sheer quantity of onions guarantees super juiciness.  This is a nice change of pace from your everyday hamburger.   Seriously, you want to give this a try, don't you?  Pile with grilled red cabbage (or heap it on the side, as I did), and you have a real burger. The slaw was perhaps is a little oily for my taste--you might cut a little of the oil yourself, but the ...