Common — and Uncommon — Scents for the Table

Isn’t it fun when one post leads to another among bloggers? I love this sharing of ideas! (When things get difficult or stressful in my real life, I'm happy to have this online world to turn to.)

Andrea over at Under a Blue Moon always wows me with her entries. Her Sept. 28 post was about candles, and she shared a photo of how she uses pressed-glass goblets — very similar to those I talked about on Sept. 25 — as votive holders. She also talked about her favorite candles. Andrea very kindly provided a link to this site.

Well, Andrea's post got me thinking. With so many scents around, can we use candles to complement our meals?

At our house, we often dine by candlelight, sometimes even on weekdays when the meal is leftovers. More often than not, this time of year, the candle scent is fall-related, like our food.

Tonight for my husband’s birthday dinner, we will have Chicken Provençal and my salade de soleil. I’ve got an Herbes de Provence scented candle that is small but packs a punch. I've also got a pumpkin pie candle to light for some background scent.

My theory is that candle scents should be matched to food the way wines are paired. The scent of the candle should pick up something from the meal. A seafood dish, in my mind, calls for a lemon or citrus candle on the table and perhaps — if it's summer — a “seashore” scented candle in the background. (A little hokey, maybe, but fun anyway.) A savory dish might work well with some herb-scent or maybe a spicy apple aroma.

I’d save florals for light summer lunches or teas. (Some of the tea-scented candles out there are out-of-this world — true aromatherapy.)

There are tons of food-scented candles on the market. I like anything chocolate-y on a blustery day. I once hoped lighting a chocolate candle might satisfy cravings. It doesn't, but it smells good anyway. And I'd used coffee-scented candles to keep me awake when I need to be — another good idea that did not fly.

The growing list of candle scents offers something for every palate — ah — nose. I suppose it is only a matter of time before someone comes out with ratatouille or pepper steak candles.

And I suppose there are purists out there who would say that another scent destroys the meal experience. Pfft! What about wine?

By the way, after reading Andrea's post, I went out in search of some new candle scents. Here's what I found: Autumn Leaves Harvest, Mom's Apple Pie, Farmhouse Apple and Brown Sugar and Spice, all from Yankee Candle.

Thanks, Andrea! It had been a long time since I'd splurged on candles. It felt good.

On a Scale of One to Ten . . .

Recently I purchased a number of items that have made it easier to me to prepare classic French foods in my kitchen.

Among them is an Aquatronic Kitchen Scale from Salter, which I purchased at cooking.com. Having a scale allows me to work with recipes from bloggers in France, who often use metric measurements.

I debuted the scale by making a wonderful pate brisée or pie crust recipe from Lucy’s Kitchen Notebook (Jan. 18, 2006), a good place to go for lovely photos, elegant French recipes and thoughtful writing.

Ooh la la! This crust is a joy to work with — it feels light in your hands and smells rich and sweet. I used the freshest ingredients I could find.

My mother was invited for dinner that day, and my husband offered to make Beef Stroganoff. I was looking for something sweet and autumnal for dessert — something that would hold up when paired with a rich French-roast coffee.

I settled on apples, raisins and cranberries. To my dismay, I found all I had in the line of apples were three very large Pink Lady apples (which I prefer to eat fresh). I cut them into small chunks, adding a drizzle of lemon juice, vanilla, sugar, cinnamon and a pinch of cloves.

Here is the apple filling recipe:

• three large or five small baking apples, unpeeled and cut into small chunks.
• ¼ cup raisins
• ¼ cup dried cranberries
• 2 teaspoons lemon juice
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• ½ cup sugar
• ½ teaspoon cinnamon
• pinch ground cloves

Mix apples and dried fruit in large bowl. Add lemon juice, vanilla, sugar and spices. Blend well to ensure the fruit is well coated. Place in pre-made crust.

I baked the pie in a 400-degree oven for about 30 minutes. Midway through the baking process I added a flour, oatmeal, walnut, sugar and butter topping, using the same method I used in my plum and apple crisp recipes.

The result was a sweet and tangy filling in what I consider a perfect crust. There’s a bit of salt in the crust that pairs well with the filling. But as Lucy points out, you can use the crust with a savory filling as well and I am going to try that next.

On a scale of one to 10, this pate brisée is most certainly a 10.

Hunkering Down — and Doctoring Up

I've found that as the weather turns cooler, not only do I want to retreat to the kitchen, but I also seek heartier food, at least until my body adjusts to the temperature change. I just want to hunker down and feed my hunger.

I prefer to make those hearty dishes myself. Then I have some chance of controlling nutritional value and keeping sodium and fat levels down.

The problem is, September and October tend to be fast-paced frenetic months. The days might be getting shorter, but my days are long ones. So instead of cooking from scratch, I find myself "doctoring up" some commercial product to save time.

Not that the pasta sauce in this photo needs doctoring. It's one of the closest I've found locally to the tasty sauces we enjoyed in France. I was lucky to find it on special at $2 a bottle.

I made Sausage and Peppers Rustica the other night, a very easy dish. Just brown about two cups of Italian sausage under medium to low heat with a bit of olive oil. The tedious part is stirring constantly and breaking up the sausage, which tends to clump.

While I am doing this, I quickly chop and sauté one onion and one green pepper and 1-2 cloves of garlic, also chopped, in a separate pan. When lightly browned, I toss these into the larger pan in which the sausage is slowly browning, add a bottle of pasta sauce and let it simmer. I add whatever fresh herbs I've got on hand, usually rosemary or basil and serve it with pasta al dente. Chopped fresh tomatoes, black olives and leftover wine are also frequent additions.

Like other food lovers who use commercial products instead of preparing from scratch, I improvise a lot. Most times the result is a winner. The nice thing about tomato-based pasta sauces is that you can add stuff (like a dab of sugar, salt or onion) to correct your mistakes.

I haven't mastered the art of taking photos of this sort of dish yet, so I'm not sure how appealing it looks (above). It tasted good though!

Dressing Up an Old Friend

Last weekend while on a baguette-and-cheese run, I ran into an acquaintance near the brie and camembert.

A well-traveled, well-read and accomplished cook, he confided he’d recently developed a yearning for old-fashioned tuna casserole, the kind made with cream of chicken soup, peas and noodles.

“I felt like comfort food,” he said simply.

I rarely make tuna casserole when I seek edible comfort. But I do like tuna salad.

How pedestrian! How banal! Not really. The fun comes when you try to take this inexpensive classic and, well, upgrade it a little.

Add capers. Slivered almonds. Black olives. Pimientos. Grainy or horseradish-y mustard. Sun-dried tomatoes. Forgo the macaroni shells for rotini or farfelle.

Tuna salad is like a white plate or a blank canvas. It’s what you put on it — or rather in it — that makes it interesting.

Let’s start with the premise that true tuna salad requires three ingredients: Tuna (a no-brainer), pasta and peas.

The rest is up to you.

A few important rules: Never allow the pasta to get too soft. Al dente is perfect. Ditto for the peas.

Allow the pasta to dry so that both the tuna and dressing cling to it.

Rinse the tuna and squeeze the water out. This, too, must be fairly dry.

Now you are on your own. Whether you add celery and crushed potato chips or black olives and goat cheese — as I did last night — make sure you mix the salad well.

Onion is essential. Minced onion delivers an intense flavor. I used thin slices of slender green onions for a fresher take.

Add the dressing. Make sure everything is coated in dressing. Mayonnaise or even the tangier sandwich spreads are fine. If I have fresh aioli in the house, I add that, too, for a further zing.

A note of caution: Don’t add too many ingredients. Less is more when it comes to a simple dish like tuna salad.

Allow the flavors to marry. This too is essential.

I usually serve my tuna salad with raw carrots and tomato slices. It needs nothing more.

My Grandmother's Goblets

I am constantly amazed at the beautiful glassware on the market. The colors, the design and the sparkle are delectable — pure eye candy!

Of course I always want to own them. The idea of serving a deep Malbec in a cranberry-hued goblet or ice water in heavy Swedish crystal is alluring. Because of course, presentation is essential to the enjoyment of good food and drink.

In my spendthrift past I often bought glassware I did not need because I liked the way I thought it would look on my table. Once I paid $20 per goblet in a French-style wine shop, only to find the same glassware at TJ Maxx for $4.99 each. So I vowed “Never again!”

When Grandma Annie’s house was sold, I inherited her pressed glass goblets. For as long as I can remember, these attractive but inexpensive goblets were used at Sunday dinner and any other time Annie wanted to set an elaborate table. I know nothing about the glasses’ provenance. I do know she had them as a young married woman.

The exteriors of two or three of the glasses are speckled with the deep red paint used on the inside of a cabinet in her kitchen in the 1930s or 40s. I have no wish to remove those tiny red dots — on the outside, I am sure they are harmless.

My husband and I have a small collection of wine glasses and champagne flutes. But especially as the holidays approach, we start thinking about libations for Grandma Annie’s glasses. Right now, I am thinking about cider or some plum-y, jam-y wine from Lower Michigan. . .nothing too fancy as befits these simple but treasured glasses.

Invitation to a Virtual Potluck Supper

One fall night not too many years ago, my friends Pam and Cindy and I got together for a girl’s night of gossip and food. We settled on Pam’s apartment, because her post-doc husband was out of town.

We made it a potluck supper. I brought the salad and Cindy made dessert. Pam was in charge of the rest.

Pam, her husband and children lived in Eagle Heights, UW-Madison’s married student housing. Many of their neighbors were part of the international student community. A trip to or even through Eagle Heights was always a treat for the olfactory senses for the air was fragrant with cumin, curry, turmeric and cinnamon; of lamb roasting and chicken baking.

When Pam’s neighbors from India and Pakistan and Greece and Indonesia heard she was having a dinner, they contributed wonderful dishes, even though they did not join us for the meal. We enjoyed a cold rice salad, a squash dish with curry, something wrapped in grape leaves and a noodle-vegetable dish. Delicious, all of it!

It was not my first introduction to the friendship-making qualities of food sharing, but it was a strong reminder.

Food bloggers, I’ve come to realize do the same thing, only in cyberspace.

When I explore Mahek’s blog Love For Cooking, I am reminded of some of the food we enjoyed at Pam’s that night. Many of it was new to me, or prepared in new ways. As we ate, Pam shared tales of her years of wandering around the world. A carefree spirit who wanted to taste life and all it had to offer, she had many stories to tell.

As a sort of welcome to autumn, why not have a virtual potluck? (No dishes to clear, no kitchen to clean up — I like this concept.)

What will you bring and why will you bring it? What stories will you tell? (I've got one about a fabulous party in a haunted house.)

I’ll have to figure out something with cheese, I guess.

And I’ll wear my cheesehead hat.

Autumn Along the Shore . . . and Pumpkin Cravings

Driving home from class the other day I noticed that the grasses along the shore had begun to turn yellow and brown. Here and there, small patches of sumac were becoming a deep crimson. The sky was overcast and the sun only a hint. Luckily, I had my camera along.

It was raining when I got back to town, the kind of rain that comes and goes but nevertheless forces you inside, preferably inside your kitchen where you will make something comforting to eat.

Pumpkin. I wanted pumpkin. When I finally got home, I found a can of pumpkin from last year (still good, it says so on the bottom of the can) and a few other ingredients, including Bisquick. Emboldened by my fellow food bloggers over at My Husband Cooks, who made Tater Tot salads the other day (much to my delight), I bravely included Bisquick in the ingredients.

This is what I made: Crustless Pumpkin Pie

1 cup canned pumpkin
½ cup Bisquick
½ cup fructose
1 cup buttermilk
1 tablespoon melted butter
1 ½ teaspoons pumpkin pie spice
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 eggs

Pre-heat oven to 350. Mix all ingredients in large bowl. Transfer to greased pie plate and bake at 350 for 35-40 minutes, until pie is firm in the middle and slightly browned at the edges. Serve chilled with a dollop of whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon.


The original recipe from Bisquick calls for evaporated milk, but I’ve always used buttermilk. I made this a time or two last year when a local bakery was selling pumpkin custard pies.

Chi-chi? No. Satisfying? You betcha.

"Fast" Food - a Dab of This and a Hunk of That

There's a rush of activity the first part of fall that doesn't slow down until just before Thanksgiving, it seems. The work day might be longer than eight hours, there might be a committee meeting at night or a concert to attend. On those nights, it's fast food.

Not the kind of fast food that piles on the pounds and clogs the arteries (although we did visit a McDonald's in France, just to see how different it would be. It wasn't, really, unless you count the addition of Croque McDo to the otherwise familiar menu).

No I am talking about a cobbled together meal, something like the one Ruth Reichl makes when she visits a friend's apartment in "Comfort Me With Apples." She took a stale baguette, an egg and perhaps an apple and some cheese to create a small feast, saying she felt like MFK (whom I seem to recall did something with a heel of celery. . .)

Anyway, these are humble little meals created from whatever ingredients are at hand. It might be a hunk of grainy whole-wheat bread with a tomato, dab of cream cheese and some green onion or it might be leftover vegetables tossed with cheese and almonds and reheated in the microwave.

More often than not, the meals involve onions and tomatoes, which are always on hand; cheese, a leftover piece of meat and a vegetable. I might reach in the freezer and pull out a single serving of rice, frozen in a zippered plastic bag or a serving of soup from last spring. I might top whatever it is with crumbs from the bottom of a nearly finished bag of taco chips.

I find these meals oddly comforting. Odd may be the operative word: Sometimes the food pairings are unusual. But it's comforting to know I am using up leftovers. I am certain there is a French frugality gene and I have it - I hate to waste anything in the kitchen.

Sometimes the flavor of these strange combinations is a fabulous gift. I vow to try make the meal again. But I usually forget all about it.

Too bad, because I think these fast food meals offer a way of looking at the things I eat a little differently.

I like that.

More Plum Perfect Adventures

Two pounds of plums for $2 - how could I resist?

The local farm market will close for the season in a few weeks and I will be lost without it. So I am making the most of it now.

I love the taste of cooked plums. It takes me back to the summer my parents decided to rent Papineau's cottage for the whole season, not just a week. We took temporary possession of the cottage on a rainy afternoon in late May or early June. My mother made something with plums that night and the tangy, almost wine-y aroma filled the little house. The next morning, the outdoors was bright and fresh with an alluring aroma of pine and sea scent.

That was a summer on sandcastles and bonfires on the beach, of lazy afternoons and long evenings. I was an only child then and had my mother all to myself most of the time. She had - and still has - a vivid imagination. What fun we had!

Thinking wistfully of those days, I combined two previously-posted recipes, Autumn Apple Crisp and Plum Cobbler, preparing the plums as I would the apples but cooking them the way I would cook the plums. The crust is taken from the apple recipe, as I found the biscuits atop the plums too heavy.

Filling

Two pounds small plums, wash and sliced, pits removed
1/2 cup fructose
2 teaspoons lemon juice
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon cinnamon

Preheat oven to 400. Toss plums in large bowl with fructose, lemon juice, vanilla and cinnamon. Layer in 13x9-inch baking pan. bake until edges begin to thicken -— 30 to 40 minutes. Remove from oven and lower heat to 350 degrees.

Crust

¾ cup flour
1/3 cup chopped walnuts
½ cup brown sugar
½ stick unsalted butter, chilled

Combine flour, walnuts and brown sugar. Cut in butter and mix as you would a pastry crust. The result should be a granola-like topping. Spread evenly over the plums and bake at 350 for 40-50 minutes, until the topping turns a golden brown.

I'm sure there's a recipe out there somewhere for plum crisp that I might have followed. But experimentation is too much fun. It's like going to a flea market or a consignment shop: You never know what you'll find.

And More Blog Discoveries

A few blogs I've discovered in the last few days:

My Husband Cooks rates high in my book because the bloggers were brave enough to talk about Tater Tots. Yes, Tater Tots. I am not ashamed to admit that my husband and I like them and often pop them in the oven for a quick supper (usually with a London Broil).

Cream Puffs in Venice focuses on Italian cooking out of Toronto.

A Fridge Full of Food offers an eclectic approach to blogging. I just like it.

The Perfect Pantry is neat because it features products I cannot find here in this northern outpost.

Then there are two more blogs from France that I am exploring:

Chez Loulou

Poppy Fields

I found these blogs through other bloggers who have kindly commented on this blog. They all seem to have an honest approach that I like.

Shopping in Old Frenchtown

In my great-grandmother's day, nearly everyone in Frenchtown had a vegetable garden. They shared what they had with neighbors. Some kept chickens or rabbits. There were a few markets on the next street, and I am sure Memére made good use of them.

I've heard though, that in the fall, Pepére and Memére took the train to Green Bay to buy canned goods and other supplies for the winter. It must have been quite an event.

Today a quick trip to Green Bay or Milwaukee or Madison is no big deal. Funny thing is, we still go out of town for our major grocery shopping. A few months back, we compared prices after a trip and calculated that we saved $26 on just 10 items. Most of the time, a $200 grocery spree saves us $40-50 over local prices.

So while we are happy to support local grocery stores 75 percent of the time, we do a major shopping 2-3 times a year in a sprawling, employee-owned supermarket out of town. It just makes sense, even in these days of high gas prices. Combined with the always-affordable farm market (which runs July-October), shopping out of town keeps our food budget reasonable.

I often think of Pepére and Memére as we load up the van with bags and boxes. How much easier it is for us, not having to lug all that stuff on the train or maybe have it delivered.

The photo above was taken, I am guessing, in the 1930s. The behemoth of a building at the right rear is an elementary school. The family home is three houses to the right. The commercial buildings in the photo are long gone, but I believe they included a food market, dry goods store, meat market and a tavern or two. The building at the left forefont was a gas station.

The neighborhood also included a packing plant, boiler works and a sash-and-door company.

I suspect the photo below is from an earlier decade. It's taken from the foot of the old wooden bridge looking north.

At-Home Steakhouse Supper with a French Twist

When I was growing up, Saturday night was steak night. Wisconsin was filled with steakhouses, many located on the outskirts of town, some in old farmhouses, others in former roadhouses. The classic meal was a thick, juicy steak with baked potato and sour cream, preceded by an iceberg-lettuce salad and maybe a cheese tray.

My father was well-known in this corner of the world for his steaks. He just knew how to do them. They were brown on the outside, pink on the inside, tender and flavorful. Growing up, I preferred chicken or fish: There was just too much steak around!

During college, I ate little meat, preferring to explore vegan fare. Then I married a man who is a steak lover.

I began to take pride in my own steaks. My standard way of preparing them was with a garlic-and-herb rub. But recently I discovered a recipe for Steak Provençal that I really love. It pairs well with roasted potatoes from Patricia Wells, Wisconsin native and fellow UW-Madison journalism alum.

Steak Provençal for Two

Marinade

1 large yellow onion, finely diced
4 small green onions, sliced
1-2 cloves garlic, crushed
1 cup dry red wine
1 Tablespoon lemon juice
1 teaspoons lemon zest
Dash herbes de Provence
Freshly ground pepper
Sea salt

Marinate your favorite cuts of meat for 2-4 hours in the refrigerator. If the price is right, I prefer filet mignon. But select tenderloin is fine.

Remove from marinade. Broil until fully cooked, turned steaks frequently to ensure they lie flat and are fully cooked. When finished, add ground pepper and add a dash of sea salt.

Roasted Potatoes

1 dozen small new potatoes
Olive oil
Sea salt

Preheat oven to 425. Wash but do not peel the potatoes. Cut them in half and coat with olive oil. Place flat side down in a greased pan and roast in the oven for about 40 minutes, until the potatoes have turned a golden brown. Sprinkle with sea salt.

I usually serve this meal with a tomato salad and roasted or sautéed peppers and a not-too-tannic red wine.

Les Haricots Verts aux Oignons Rouges

Our kitchen is governed by two sets of rules, one for weekends and another for weekdays.

On weekends, leisurely cooking reigns. Experiments take place. Sometimes bread is baked.

Not so during the week. It’s gotta be fast and it’s gotta be easy.

The following take on green beans, gleaned from Bon Appetit via Epicurious is simple and can be prepared in advance.

Three large or five medium red onions
1/3 cup olive oil
2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
¼ cup water
1-2 pounds green beans, cut into two inch pieces

Wash and trim onions. Cut them into 2-4 pieces, depending on onion size. The original recipe suggests cutting them in a lengthwise fashion. Place onions in an oiled baking pan and toss with olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

Roast the onions for about 30 minutes in a pre-heated 450 oven. Turn frequently. Add water and continue roasting until the onions become carmelized. Total oven time is 40-50 minutes.

While onions are roasting, cook green beans until just tender. Drain.

When onions are carmelized, mix them with the green beans. Add a dash of salt and pepper.

You can roast the onions in advance. You may want to shorten the roasting time if the onions get mushy or flimsy.

Simple but oh-so-good. Leftovers taste great.

Apple-Cheddar-Walnut Scones

Autumn is coming on fast here in northern Wisconsin. Last year at this time, everything was still very green. But we've had a spate of cool nights, a few damp days here and there and a host of glorious sunny days in the past few weeks. Cool nights and sunny days make for red and gold leaves.

And they are turning already, along the road out to the university and even in town. Last year's autumn was long and lingering, but I suspect this one will be quick. Our spring was earlier.

What does this have to do with food? Nothing, really, except that foods typically associated with a season enhance your enjoyment of that time of year.

Most people claim fall as their favorite season up here. Apples are plentiful and this being Wisconsin, so is cheese.

I baked these scones tonight (I've decided to experiment with a new seasonal recipe each month).

Apple-Cheddar-Walnut Scones

1 1/2 cups flour (I used whole wheat pastry flour and white flour)
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4-1/2 teaspoon cinnamon (depends on your preference)
1/4 cup sugar (I used fructose)
1/4 cup cold unsalted butter
1/2 cup buttermilk
8 ounces sharp cheddar cheese, shredded
1/2 cup applesauce
1/3 cup walnuts, chopped

Preheat oven to 400. In large bowl, combine dry ingredients. Cut in the butter, using a pastry tool or your fingers to create a grainy texture. In a small bowl, blend the buttermilk, cheese, applesauce and walnuts. Add the moist mix to the dry mix and blend thoroughly. Divide into 8 balls and place on ungreased cookie sheet or use a greased scone pan. Bake for about 20 minutes, until a knife inserted into the center indicates the scones are thoroughly baked. The scones will be a golden brown. Serve warm, with apple butter.

The true test for scones is how they do when warmed over. These held their moisture, a rare feat for a scone.

By the way, that's the maple tree in my back yard. It was planted 10 years ago. The photo was taken on Oct. 20, 2004. I had just returned from an interview with Jenny, a cook who lives in a French-influenced home that is filled with tasteful French and American folk art. It was a cool afternoon, but Jenny had a fire going and a pot of soup on the stove. She served me strong coffee and wonderful pumpkin bars. (I will look them up and share them.) I love those times when food and conversation and ambiance all come together.

Getting My Goat Cheese

In my opinion, there are very few foods that can’t be enhanced by a little goat cheese.

Of course, it’s great in salads, especially when there are a lot of tomatoes involved. Whenever I make ratatouille, which is weekly this time of year, I freeze the leftovers for winter pizzas that are topped with goat cheese.

Goat cheese can be used in dips and soufflés and omelets. It’s great on grilled vegetables and in onion tarts. But, hey, I'm preaching to the choir here!

I make a darned good goat-cheese sandwich with tomatoes and green onions. If I’m lucky enough to have a cucumber on hand, that goes on, too. Layered on a grainy, artisan whole wheat bread, the sandwich is a fresh counterpart to almost any kind of soup.

Wish I’d taken a photo of that sandwich, but it was gone before I had time to grab the camera.

What’s your favorite way to enjoy goat cheese?

My Husband's "French" Spaghetti Sauce

We have a plethora of tomatoes today, thanks to coworkers, friends, the farm market and our own Roma plants. So we made tomato sauce (a popular item on food blogs these days).

What’s so great about this sauce? My husband thinks he invented it.

As far as we’re concerned, he did. While food shopping France we were astounded by the variety of sauces available. We found one with cherry tomatoes and another one with whole green and black olives. We bought sausages and toted our goodies to our temporary home in the vineyard.

Using a “Robot Marie” and fresh tomatoes, my husband set about doctoring up the store-bought product, making the best spaghetti sauce I have ever tasted.

We have recreated it many times since, trying a variety of commercial sauces as a base. Here is our latest incarnation:

12 small Roma tomatoes, halved and seeded
1 25-ounce jar Napa Valley Bistro Tomato & Basil sauce
1 small yellow onion
½ cup water
One-pound ground Italian sausage
1/3 cup sun-dried tomato paste or spread
One-tablespoon olive oil
12-16 cherry tomatoes
About 8 each green and black olives
One clove garlic, crushed

Puree the fresh tomatoes and the onion and toss combine with ready-made tomato sauce and water in a large saucepan. Use medium heat until the sauce bubbles.


Brown Italian sausage in a large skillet, breaking it up to keep the pieces small.

Once the sausage is brown, add it to the sauce along with the sun-dried tomatoes. Halve cherry tomatoes and olives and add those, too.

Once sauce begins to bubble again, lower heat. Add garlic. Simmer sauce for about 30-40 minutes longer, adding and removing bay leaf, if you like.

I added yellow tomatoes this time for variety. The sauce differs slightly nearly every time I make it.

But it always tastes like fresh tomatoes!

September 2001 and Comfort Food

I did not post anything about the events of September 2001 here yesterday for fear of getting too political. Seeing so many related posts from other bloggers made me wonder if that was the right decision.

That is not to suggest I do not share the sadness of fellow bloggers who did say something about it. Nor should it be construed as a lack of caring or concern for those who lost their lives, those who were injured and those who lost loved ones on that horrible day.

As a journalist, I was on the run constantly during that week of September. Our job was to bring the story home to small-town America. For a time we worked longer-than-usual days, talking to local people who lived in New York City or Washington, or those who were taking action to help emergency workers or New Yorkers or anyone who was directly affected by the heinous acts of that day.

At night, I must admit, I took refuge in comfort food: Meatloaf with mashed potatoes, cooked carrots and beets, cheese sandwiches and creamy soups. Fall is a good time for such foods, but that particular fall I found I needed them more than usual.

One thing I learned was to live life to the fullest. That lesson was compounded 18 months later when my husband faced a serious medical condition that required surgery.

In the aftermath of these events, I learned to enjoy today and I reaffirmed my decision to lead an ethics-based life.

And that's really all I have to say.

P.S. But wait, there's more. If you haven't already, please check the recipe for September Soup at Christine Cooks. There is always something good cooking over at Christine's, and she describes the beauty of September perfectly.

Tell Me Where — or What — to Eat in Paris

It’s another cold and rainy day here in Wisconsin. It’s a busy one, too — no time to cook.

The good news is that we are now only eight months away from our next trip to France (I've been counting the days since we boarded the homeward-bound plane at Charles de Gaulle in mid-2005). This time, we will concentrate on Paris. This will be our longest visit — two weeks.

On our last trip, we were enjoying a leisurely lunch at a café is a leafy residential neighborhood on the Left Bank.

“We should find a place around here next time” I said to my husband.

And so we did.

We will do some of our own cooking (more on this later). We will be near Rue Cler, and we expect to shop there daily. I also want to revisit the Saturday market at Place Maubert. Poilåne on Rue du Cherche Midi is high on my list of places to go, too.

We had five days there last time, and tried a variety of cafés, mostly in the 5th, 7th and 13th arrondissements. Beef Bourguignon, Omelets, Croque Madame, Salad Niçoise, various dishes made with ham (of course, the ubiquitous sandwiche jambon) were usually our (safe) choices. Five days is not a lot of time to discover Paris and its food, much less its neighborhoods.

This time, we want to be more adventurous. I’ve a short list of must-eat-at places. One is Ma Bourgogne in Place de Vosges. Another is Thoumieux on Rue St. Dominique. I think Café Marly might be on the list, too.

I am looking for more ideas: Cafés and restaurants to try, foods to sample.

All ideas are welcome!

Pepper and Onion Medley

The calendar says late summer, but here on the very edge of Wisconsin, fall is most definitely in the air.

It must have been near freezing last night: My furnace went on for the first time since May (yes, May).

While cucumbers and radishes are still available at the market, peppers, squash and pumpkins are beginning to dominate. Soon there'll be Indian corn, decorative gourds, and even cornstalks for decorating front yards and porches.

The colors are wonderful, as breathtaking as the trees will be in a few weeks. (You haven’t truly experienced fall unless you’ve been to a state where sugar maples are aflame with crimson. In southern Wisconsin, the colors are muted, ambers and golds. But here “up north,” autumn is a kaleidoscope of color.)

Peppers stuffed with rice and beef and onions are one of our favorite “welcome to fall” meals.

So is this colorful roasted pepper-and-onion medley

• Three red peppers, bell or banana
• Three green peppers
• One medium red onion
• Two tablespoons olive oil
• About 1/3 cup goat cheese
• Dash sea salt
• Dash ground pepper

Slice the tops and bottoms from the peppers. Trim away the membrane and seeds from bell peppers and slice into rings. For banana peppers, slice first, then cut away membrane and seeds (it takes about two minutes per pepper). Slice the onion into rings, too. Toss peppers and onion together in a bowl. Coat with olive oil. Spread on a baking sheet or in a shallow pan; you may want to used parchment. Roast at 400 for about 20 minutes; you can also sauté them separately, as you would with ratatouille. If you choose to roast, check them frequently and turn them over with a spatula. Remove from oven when vegetables are turning brown. Add goat cheese and seasonings.
I used a peppery goat cheese and the result was both piquant and earthy. It's simple and not terribly time consuming. You can slice the vegetables in advance. I may try a roasted pepper dressing marinade next time.

That's the beauty of roasting vegetables. You almost can't go wrong. Next time I roast, it will be an autumn root vegetable medley with carrots, yams, turnips and parsnips. It always makes the house smell so good!

Apple Cider Making and a Harvest Dinner

It’s cool and damp and rainy here tonight, a good night for hunkering down at home with a big bowl of popcorn and maybe a cool mug of apple cider.

It was a night just like this that Bruce and Laurie held their annual cider-making party last year. I was among the dozen or so guests who began preparing bushels and bushels of apples late in the afternoon.

The five varieties of apples, picked at a nearby orchard a week earlier, had been left to mature for a few days.

Working an old-fashioned cider press is hard work, and it was left to the more muscular guests, thankfully.

It seemed to take hours. Meanwhile, an herb-encrusted lamb roast cooked on a covered outdoor grill, perfuming the air outside. In the kitchen, three separate casseroles of potatoes, squash and green beans cooked in Laurie’s big ovens. Two different fruit desserts cooled atop the stove. A fire roared away in the living room, and bottles of a peppery red and a nippy white wine were set out for guests to sample.

Dinner was served as soon as the apple pomace had been made into liquid.

We filled two tables, one in the dining room and one in the kitchen. Laurie joined us at the kitchen table and the talk turned to plays, music, restoring old houses and even, perhaps because of the dark evening and the approaching fall holiday, ghosts and unexplained occurrences.

The guests were a diverse and eclectic group, representing all segments of our small town, for Laurie is a collector of interesting people. What struck me was how often food and dinner tables serve as uniters.

Dinner conversation lasted until nearly 11 p.m., from salad to apple crisp and (decaf) coffee. I was sorry to leave, but Laurie sent us all on our way with a plate of leftovers. Eventually, each of us received a jug of apple cider, too.

I won't be making apple cider tonight. But my kitchen is warm and my house is cozy and redolent of roasted peppers and autumn vegetables. Not a bad beginning to a rainy night at home.

Eggplant: One Versatile Vegetable

The word "aubergine" conjures up images of deep purple fruit, rich and shining in the South of France sun.

It so closely resembles the word for inn, “auberge,” that it is a welcoming word. I certainly welcome the time of year when l’aubergine hang heavy on the plants in my little garden.

My plants are bearing small fruit, but I still buy eggplant every time I see it at the farm market. It is low in calories and low on the glycemic index, which makes it the perfect vegetable, in my cookbook.

For years my eggplant repertoire was simply ratatouille or eggplant Parmesan. Then I began including eggplant with other vegetables for roasting.

It's easy and quick: Cut up eggplant, zucchini, onions, peppers, even potatoes and toss with a tablespoon of olive oil and a teaspoon each of freshly chopped rosemary and thyme. I often toss in whole garlic cloves or grind in a garlic-rosemary mix I found in the spice section of a local grocery store. Bake on parchment paper placed on a cookie sheet in a preheated, 400-degree oven.

Cooking times vary, depending on the quantity and cut of the vegetables. I check them every 8-10 minutes, turning with a spatula.

Once the vegetables are sufficiently golden-brown, sprinkle on sea salt or a pinch of herbes de Provence. Excellent with pork, chicken, beef, or seafood.

Recently I discovered Ashbury's Aubergines, home to more than 3,000 eggplant recipes. Among them: Pecan-Crusted Eggplant, Baked Aubergines and Almonds, Hot and Sour Eggplant Salad, Lemon-Dilled Eggplant and Summer Squash, Sautéed Eggplant with Basil and an astonishing collection of ethnic takes on this wonderful and versatile vegetable. There is so much you can do with eggplant. Who knew?

A few blogs that featured eggplant recently:

• Fat-Free Vegan Kitchen
• Cook Almost Anything at Least Once

And hot off the keyboard...Eggplant Parmesan with Kalyn's Incredible Marinara Sauce from Christine Cooks.

Necessity is the Mother of – Salad or Side Dish?

Tomatoes are one item I cannot get through the day without, second — OK, maybe third — to coffee and bread in the morning. So I always buy them, even though I have a few plants of my own.

Tonight I needed something to balance a pre-seasoned pork tenderloin from the grocery store, which I roasted with new potatoes and onions, something that would serve as a palate cleanser.

Tomatoes, of course. Red and yellow tomatoes, thickly sliced, then paired with green and black olives. Like my “salade de soleil,” I topped it off with a mix of Italian and Mediterranean cheeses and a flick of sea salt and herbes de Provence.

I had some doubts about the medley of olives and tomatoes, but they were quelled when I tasted the salad. Or side dish.

The experiment was good enough to eat alone. It needed no dressing, not even a drop of olive oil.

Hot Peppers, Hot Fingers

Last October my husband was away on business for two weeks during the height of what we call the “fall color season,” the time of year when the sugar maples are a blazing scarlet hue.

I missed him terribly. October is the time of year when we enjoy stuffed peppers and roasted squash for supper, pop popcorn on Saturday night, and take rides in the country with our cameras to capture the glory of Wisconsin at high autumn.

One golden Sunday afternoon in the middle of his trip, I washed and chopped the small chili peppers I’d bought for him at the farm market. I froze them in small packages so during the winter months, we can add them to pizzas, soups, casseroles and of course, chili. He loves hot peppers and I guess it was my way of wishing him home faster.

I’d forgotten what hot peppers do to your skin. Capsaicin burns! I read somewhere that overuse of it can cause the body to release endorphins to compensate for the pain, although I do not recall feeling especially high that sunny Sunday.

I suffered for a while, then tried using an alcohol-based hand cleaner. The pain was mitigated somewhat but not neutralized. Then I remembered a half-filled sour cream carton in the refrigerator and dug that out. It did the trick!

Today I bought banana peppers at the farm market, lured by their exotic beauty (trust me, they are fairly exotic this far north). I found a roasted vegetable recipe I’ll try tomorrow. I think the peppers will pair nicely with Japanese eggplant, which I also found at the farm market today.

The smoky-sweet aroma of peppers roasting — now there’s an early autumn smell!

Sun-Dried Tomatoes Mate with Cream Cheese During a Food Emergency

The extended forecast for my corner of Wisconsin calls for rain and highs in the 60s next weekend. In fact, it's clouding up already.

But this three-day weekend has been sunny and golden. The grill has been fired up several times. We stocked up on fresh vegetables, including corn, but did nothing about snacks.

Until we got hungry.

All we had was a half-bag of whole wheat corn chips, not a bad start. I always keep light cream cheese on hand for these emergencies, though, and I fished some from the deli drawer in the refrigerator.

After warming it to room temperature, I mixed it with about a 1/3 cup of sun-dried tomato spread, two teaspoons of minced onion, a pinch of minced garlic (we keep a small jar in the fridge) and some chopped black olives. I tossed in some Tuscan Seasoning.

Not bad for a food emergency! While the chips have a decidedly south-of-the-border flavor, the dip is sort of Wisconsin-Mediterranean (a new food genre!).

Fusion food, I told my husband as we greedily demolished the chips and dip.

By happy coincidence, a more sophisticated (and far less slap-dash) version is posted today at Kalyn's Kitchen. Kalyn also provides tips for using the spread.

There’s a Lemon-Chevre Dip made with leftovers at Frugal Cusine .

I’m going to try them both.

Back to School With Crab Apple Jelly

Most mornings during the summer months, my brothers and I ate cereal for breakfast. It was fast and easy and we could fix it ourselves.

During cold weather, my father insisted on serving oatmeal, telling us it would “stick to our ribs” and keep us warm all day long.

Our all-time favorite breakfast once school started was white toast, crunchy peanut butter and crab apple jelly. Those breakfasts made the start of school more palatable.

Today, I cannot find crab apple jelly at local grocery stores. So I buy mine from Marjorie, a lovely lady who brings her homemade jams, jellies and preserves to the local farm market.

Marjorie, who is also a quilter, knows the value of presentation. Her display is one of the prettiest at the market: All her jars have lovely gingham caps and are nicely arranged. Marjorie considers the display another form patchwork quilt, and she sets it up with care.

Naturally I am a frequent buyer.

I’m going to try making apple jelly one of these days (or years), as soon as I get my hands on enough crab apples. I’ve found a recipe that looks easy and straightforward.

Easy Crab Apple Jelly

5 pounds crab apples, washed
5 c. water
1 3/4 oz. pkg. powdered pectin
9 c. sugar

Trim apples to remove stems and bruised spots. Place in a large kettle and add water. Cook apples until soft. Use a jelly bag to strain. The yield should be about seven cups of apple juice.

Boil juice and pectin in a large, stirring constantly. Add sugar completely and return to a full boil. Continue stirring while you boil for one minute.

Remove jelly kettle from the stove and skim foam from surface. Use a ladle to pour into hot sterilized jars. Use a damp paper towel to remove drips from inside and out of jars.

Seal jars with hot lids and screw bands. Process jelly for 10 minutes in boiling water bath.

Some people add food coloring to make their jelly red or red-orange. I'll skip this step.

More often than not, breakfast today is cottage cheese with whole wheat toast (sometimes with peanut butter) or a French roll with a hard-boiled egg or low-fat cheese. But every once in a while when the day looms long and dreary, I reach for the crab apple jelly. It's good to keep on hand, along with more sophisticated counterparts like pumpkin butter, apricot jam, or fig preserves.

How about you? Do you ever eat comfort food for breakfast?

Plum Cobbler for a Rainy Saturday Night

You never know what you’ll find at a farm market.

Like flea markets, their not-so-distant cousins, farm markets offer unexpected delights. Among my finds this week were leeks, shallots, pears, mint — and plums, small and sweet.

We enjoyed them fresh, but I wanted to tinker with a plum dessert recipe from Epicurious. (There is something almost Victorian about a plum dessert. I am positive that back in my teen-age, Gothic-novel-reading days, heroines had plum desserts with their tea, usually after fainting.)

To make the cobbler a bit healthier (so I could justify eating some), I used mostly whole wheat and oat flour instead of all-white flour. To keep it from inducing some sort of sugar shock, I used fructose in place of sugar. Otherwise, I followed the recipe to the proverbial T.

Here is my version of the Plum Cobbler with Cinnamon Biscuits, which sounds like something to make on a rainy Saturday night at home. The recipe orginated with the August 2004 issue of Bon Appetite, according to Epicurious.


Plum Cobbler with Cinnamon Biscuits

4 pounds plums, halved, pitted, cut into 1/2-inch slices
1 cup fructose
4 tablespoons cornstarch
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 cup oat flour
1/2 cup whole wheat pastry flour
1/2 cup all purpose flour
5 tablespoons sugar, divided
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon, divided
1/2 cup (1 stick) chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons half and half
1 large egg

Preheat oven to 400°F. Prepare plums, coating with sugar, cornstarch and vanilla in a large mixing bowl. Place in a 13x9x2-inch glass baking pan. Bake until the edges of the plum mixture starts to thicken and bubble, about 35-40 minutes.

While the plums are baking, prepare the biscuit topping. Using a fork or whisk, toss flour, 3 tablespoons sugar, baking powder, salt, and 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon in large bowl. Add butter, making a coarse, grainy pastry dough. In a small bowl, mix 3/4 cup half and half and egg. Slowly add cream mixture into flour mixture just barely blended. Knead gently.

Remove plums from oven and stir to blend. Make balls of dough (your hands will get a bit sticky) and place them atop the plums. Brush with half and half and sprinkle with cinnamon and fructose (I used sugar on top.) Bake cobbler until the biscuits are golden brown and the fruit is bubbling. Cool before serving.

Note: The whole wheat flour made the biscuits a bit heavy. Next time, I'll tweak the flour blend, or use whole wheat pastry flour only. Not a bad dessert, but a bit too heavy for my tastes in late summer. It looks like it will freeze well.

The Worker in the Vineyard

During our stay in the Lot Valley, it was important not to rush around seeing things and taking pictures but to give in to the rhythm of the tiny village in which we stayed. We wanted to experience everyday life in rural France.

Mornings we drove down to Cahors, prowling the markets and the shops and cafés. Afternoons we preferred to stay closer to home.

The lovely house our friend loaned us after my husband’s surgery was too enchanting, with its tile floors, massive armors, comfortable sofas. Herbs and lilacs grew in the yard; everything was green and lichen-covered. Why leave? Here was sheer magic!

Nearly 300 years old, the home turned its back on the village and faced a vineyard. Afternoons while my husband rested, I sat by the pool listening to the calls of roosters and cuckoos and the droning of contented and very benign bees in the warm spring sunshine.

Looking down into the vineyards, I noticed a solitary worker, who began his task of staking the vines at about 9 a.m. each day. He worked until noon, took the traditional two-hour hour break, and went back to his vines. Between 2 p.m. and about 6:30, the sound of chain saws and tractors would ring out across the valley again, competing with the roosters and cuckoos.

The man in the vineyard went about his work, never looking up. I wondered if he could hear so strong was his attention to task. I later learned he could not.

For a week, I watched his progress. I don’t know if he ever saw me up there, but I considered him my companion on those sunny afternoons.

I sometimes think of him, when I am working at a repetitive task and giving it my full attention. I wonder if he is content with his job. Or does he merely tolerate it? Does he wish for a different lot in life? Is he happy staking vines and caring for grapes used in making the famous Black Wine of Cahors. I hope he is.

Several bottles of wine from the very grapes he tended had been left for us by our hostess. They were deep and rich and tannic and we drank from them in the evenings, once we closed the shutters and settled in. Our wine tasting was always accompanied by hooting from an owl that sat in the lilac tree each night.

Those were wonderful days and nights, the vineyard, the worker, the wine, the owl, the church bells and the smell of wood smoke and herbs. Such deep contentment!

Savory Scones with Parmesan Cheese and Herbes de Provence

Several years ago I finally broke down and invested in a cast-iron scone pan.

I was writing an article about scones for my weekly food column and figured I’d better have some first-hand knowledge. Since then I have periodically made sweet scones, usually pumpkin-raisin or cinnamon, but I wanted to try some savory scones this time. Why not scones with herbes de Provence?

The Scones

1 cup pre-sifted all-purpose flour
1 cup whole-wheat pastry flour
1 Tablespoon baking powder
½-cup grated Parmesan cheese
¼-teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons Herbes de Provence
½-stick cold butter, cut into small pieces
1 large eggs
1 large egg yoke, reserve the white for glaze
½-cup buttermilk

Pre-heat oven to 450 degrees. Blend dry ingredients, including cheese, in a large bowl. Cut in the butter, working it into the flour with your fingers or with a pastry tool. Mixture should crumbly.

In a small bowl, blend egg, egg yoke and buttermilk. Gradually add to dry mixture until a sticky dough is formed.

Here is where an eight-section scone pan comes in handy. But you can also shape dough into round balls and place on a lightly greased baking sheet.
Beat leftover egg white, and brush each scone with it, sprinkling on additional Parmesan or herbs, if you like.

Bake scones for 10 minutes, or until golden brown. Makes 5-6 scones.

The delicate flavor of these scones pairs well with cheese as well as honey or jam. I thought butter with a lavender honey spread might be tasty.

Next time, I may increase the herbes de Provence for more zest.

Any scones fans out there?