The Index Card of Fatherly Wisdom, Second Edition

Each of you went off to college with a copy of the Index Card of Fatherly Wisdom strategically placed somewhere in your belongings for you to find after Mom and I dropped you off. (You did find it, right?). The original formulation contained just two principles and four words and I haven't felt much need to revise it over the years.

 

 

Still, I've always worried that the first principle maybe sounds a bit too moralistic when that wasn't what was intended. Then Jim Ryan was appointed the President of UVA and brought with him the idea for the University to be "great and good" in everything it does. Although the Index Card of Fatherly Wisdom™ predated UVA's new slogan, the University does, for better or worse, have a greater reach than I do, making my first principle now sound derivative.

 

And so, I am finally taking the opportunity to make some small changes to the Index Card of Fatherly Wisdom™. While I undertake this task with great trepidation, knowing that my principles have undoubtedly guided every big decision you've made over the years, I think you'll find it a worthwhile exercise.

 

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It's a dinosaur!

At my friend Bill's urging, I recently read H Is for Hawk, Helen Macdonald's magnificent 2014 memoir about the year she spent training a goshawk in the wake of her father's unexpected death. Bill also let me know that Macdonald had just published Vesper Flights, a collection of 41 essays that she likens in her introduction to a Wunderkammer—a sixteenth century "cabinet of curiosities" or wonders—because the essays cover a wide range of topics, most of them dealing with the natural world.

For example, in the second essay, "Nothing Like a Pig," Macdonald writes of her first encounter with a boar, which she describes like this:

When I saw Jurassic Park in the cinema something unexpected happened when the first dinosaur came on screen: I felt a huge, hopeful pressure in my chest and my eyes filled with tears. It was miraculous: a thing I’d seen representations of since I was a child had come alive. Something like this was happening now and it was just as affecting.

This was shockingly familiar to me. I've never seen a wild boar, but I saw Jurassic Park in the theater (twice, the second time while we were waiting for Dylan to be born) and that was my exact reaction to the scene where the main characters see a huge brachiosaurus and some of the other dinosaurs for the first time, while John Williams' famous theme swells in the background. I've always felt like a sap for reacting so emotionally to such a cheesy movie, but reading that Macdonald experienced the same thing, I feel ... what? Kinship? Vindication? I don't know.

 

Of course, they have the weaselly lawyer's first thought on seeing the dinosaurs be, "We're going to make a fortune off this place," but even that can't ruin this scene, which remains one of my favorite moviegoing experiences (right up there with this one 🤣). "Welcome to Jurassic Park!"

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Avast, ye filthy porch pirates! episode III: 'Tis the season

With the coming of the holiday season, the news of porch piracy is coming thick and fast, and is now the subject of a running email chain between my buddy Ed and me. Despite your scoffing at my concerns, there is now documented proof that this scourge has arrived in our hamlet. Item #1: A November 25 article in the Daily Progress ("Holiday packages a treasure trove for porch pirates") reports that about 11 million homeowners had a package stolen from their front porch or mailbox last year alone. A spokesman for the Charlottesville Police Department confirmed that porch pirates are "definitely out there" in C'ville. In fact, there were a "slew" of packages stolen on UVA grounds while students were out of town for fall break,[1] and that will only "increase[] during the holiday season."

That dire prediction was confirmed in a December 5 article in the DP ("Two women arrested in connection to stolen packages in Albemarle County"). The two women must have swiped a lot of packages, because they are facing a "slew" of charges, including obtaining money by false pretenses, trespassing, 13 counts of misdemeanor larceny, and one count of felony grand larceny. [2] The women told police that they had targeted various C'ville neighborhoods, including Carriage Hill, Turtle Creek Condominiums, the 14th Street area, and Ivy Garden Apartments, where Mom and I lived while I was in law school.

I emailed a link to the first article to Ed, who responded with a link of his own to a video describing "How to protect your packages from being stolen." The video starts with some high-quality footage of various freebooters swiping packages from front porches, including one picaroon wearing a "SECURITY" tee shirt, which is kinda funny. The first suggestion is to use Amazon Key, which allows delivery people to unlock your front door to enter your house and leave packages inside. Doesn't that sound like a great idea—stopping theft from your front porch by giving someone you don't know access to the rest of your house? I'll take a hard pass on that one. Other suggestions in the video and DP article include having your packages shipped to a locker at UPS, FedEx, or Whole Foods (Amazon again), or bolting an ugly lockbox to a table on your porch, [3] all of which are a big pain in the ass. But my favorite suggestion was to get one of those newfangled doorbell cameras (top-rated model only $229!) that let you see on your smartphone who's ringing your doorbell, as if a porch pirate is going to ring your fucking doorbell before looting your front porch. I think it's time to shop in real stores again.

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[1] My heart is absolutely breaking for all of the UVA students now having to go without the pastel apparel and docksiders they ordered. O' thou cruel buccaneers, take pity on the scholars during this most joyous season of giving!

[2] I guess one package had a lot more than just socks in it for them to get hit with a felony charge.

[3] The video makes it look like a pretty large lockbox will still only fit something no bigger than a loaf of Mom's child-sized bread inside. Plus, you gotta cram the stuff in there, so don't order anything breakable. I also wonder if there's a neighborhood covenant against having a big steel lockbox on your porch?

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Mr. Graham's moment of glory

Humble Beginnings

Once upon a time, there was an annual Fourth of July party in the Stoney Creek cul-de-sac. The festivities included a pie contest, for which I often served as one of the judges. Early on, Mr. Graham would buy a pie at the store, remove the pie from its aluminum home, then transfer the pie to a plate and (jokingly) enter it in the contest. Mr. Graham eventually realized the error of his ways and started baking his own pies.

Fast forward to the fall of 2018, when Mr. Graham entered a pie-making challenge with a friend. Mr. Graham started out making a double-crust blueberry pie. It was okay, but the crust was not flaky and the blueberry filling did not really grab your taste buds. After Mary Alice had a catering gig with the C&O Restaurant, she and Mr. Graham ate leftovers of sweet potatoes and wild blueberries. The seed was planted for a new filling, and Mr. Graham started experimenting with a combination of sweet potatoes and blueberries. A flavor success! Mr. Graham also tinkered with the crust to improve the flakiness.

Some of the experimental pies that paved the road to greatness

The master at work—check out the fancy pastry mat!

   

Mr. Graham's Moment of Glory

Though the annual Fourth of July party is no more, there was a Stoney Creek cul-de-sac gathering back in June of this year, which seemed like a good occasion for an impromptu pie contest for old times' sake. There were seven entries, including Mom's take on my Not Really Key Lime Pie (#3 in the picture below) and Mr. Graham's Sweet Potato-Blueberry Pie, which is just to the left of Mom's pie. 

Every partygoer had a taste of each of the pies, then voted by secret ballot for their favorite. Each vote in favor of Mr. Graham's pie was met with a thunderous cheer from Mr. Graham. When the votes were counted, Mr. Graham's pie emerged the winner, besting my still-not-award-winning pie by a tally of seven to five. Mr. Graham was crowned the Mid-Atlantic Stoney Creek Cul-de-Sac Pie Champion for 2019. Not quite as impressive as being an Olympic ping-pong gold medalist, perhaps, but close and pretty darn good all the same.

Just another day at the office for a pie-making legend

Mary Alice and Mr. Graham kindly provided me with some of the back story and the winning pie recipe, which I finally had a chance to make this past weekend, albeit with a gluten-free crust substituted for Mom's benefit. We invited Mary Alice and Mr. Graham over to try it out, and I'm happy to report that Mr. Graham gave his seal of approval to my version of his award-winning pie.

Rubbing elbows with the Prince of Pie

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Step 3 of the recipe below

Step 5

Step 8

Step 11

The finished product

Mr. Graham's Sweet Potato-Blueberry Pie

Adapted from Mr. Graham (who adapted the pie recipe from Divas Can Cook) and The How Can It Be Gluten Free Cookbook (2014) by America’s Test Kitchen via NPR (for the crust)

Time: It took 15 minutes to make the crust and get it in the fridge to rest; from there, it took about 2 hours to make the pie.

You have several options for the crust other than the gluten-free one set out below. The original recipe Mr. Graham adapted his pie from uses an all-shortening crust; you can view that recipe here. If you want to do an all-butter pie crust using all-purpose flour, I highly recommend J. Kenji Lopez-Alt's Easy Pie Dough recipe on Serious Eats. Also check out Lopez-Alt's gallery of photos showing how to make the pie crust step-by-step; even if you go with one of the other crusts, the pictures will still be useful, especially the ones showing how to get the crust into the pie plate and flute the edges.

Gluten-Free Pie Crust
113 grams (1 stick/8 tablespoons) unsalted butter
37 grams (2½ tablespoons) cold water
23 grams (1½ tablespoons) plain whole-milk yogurt or sour cream
7 grams (1½ teaspoons) rice vinegar
185 grams (1½ cups) UaKS Gluten-Free Flour Blend or other commercial or homemade gluten-free flour blend
6 grams (1½ teaspoons) white sugar
¾ teaspoon fine sea salt
¼ teaspoon xanthan gum

Sweet Potato-Blueberry Filling
3 medium sweet potatoes, washed well but unpeeled
113 grams (1 stick/8 tablespoons) unsalted butter, melted and cooled slightly
120 grams (½ cup) evaporated milk
2 large eggs (~57 grams each still in the shell)
1 teaspoon (4 grams) vanilla extract
100 grams (½ cup) white sugar
100 grams (½ cup) brown sugar
8 grams (1 tablespoon) Thai glutinous white rice flour, or tapioca flour/starch, or gluten-free flour blend
½ teaspoon nutmeg, preferably freshly ground
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
¼ teaspoon ground ginger
a pinch of salt
~140 grams (~1¼ cups) frozen blueberries

    1. Make the pie dough: Cut the butter into ¼-inch pieces, then stick them in the freezer for 10 minutes.
    2. Meanwhile, in a very small bowl, whisk together the cold water, yogurt or sour cream, and vinegar. Park the bowl in the fridge while the butter is freezing.
    3. Place the gluten-free flour blend, sugar, salt, and xanthan gum in the work bowl of a food processor fitted with the metal "s" blade. Process for 5 seconds. Scatter the frozen butter pieces evenly over the flour mixture (see the photo above). Pulse until the butter is the size of large peas, about 8 one-second pulses.
    4. Spoon half of the yogurt mixture (~2 tablespoons) over the flour mixture; mix in with 3 one-second pulses. Scrape in the remaining yogurt mixture, then process just until clumps form, about 6–8 one-second pulses.
    5. Dump the dough onto a lightly floured work surface. Using your hands, gather it into a cohesive ball. Flatten into a 5-inch disk (see photo above). Wrap the disk in plastic cling wrap and refrigerate for at least 1 hour. (You can make the dough ahead and keep it in the fridge for up to 2 days.)
    6. Roast the sweet potatoes: While the dough is resting, place a rack in the center of the oven and heat to 375 degrees. Place the sweet potatoes on a plate in the microwave and nuke on high power for 4 minutes. Rotate the plate 90 degrees, then zap on high power for 4 minutes more. Transfer the potatoes to a foil-lined baking sheet, and roast until a skewer or thin knife slips through each potato with no resistance, about 15–20 minutes (watch carefully so the flesh doesn't liquefy completely during roasting). Set aside until cool enough to peel.
    7. Form the pie crust: Once the dough has chilled in the fridge for at least 1 hour, let it sit out on your work surface to soften slightly, about 15 minutes. Unwrap the disk, but leave it on the plastic wrap. Cover with another large sheet of plastic wrap. Using a rolling pin, roll the dough into a 12-inch circle. Remove the top sheet of plastic. Place a 9-inch pie plate on top of the dough, then invert gently. Ease the dough into the pie plate, using one hand to lift the plastic wrap off the dough while using the other hand to press the dough into the pie plate. (Keep the plastic wrap to use in the next step.)
    8. Using clean kitchen shears or sharp scissors, trim the excess dough so that it overhangs the edge by ½ inch all around. You can use the trimmed pieces to patch any cracks or fill in around the edge where needed. Tuck the overhanging dough under itself all the way around the pie, so that it rests on the lip of the pie plate, flush with the edge. Using the index finger of one hand and the thumb and forefinger of the other, flute the edges of the pie crust all the way around (see photo above and steps 18 to 21 in Lopez-Alt's gallery of photos). Cover the dough loosely with the reserved plastic wrap, and freeze until firm, about 15 minutes.
    9. Blind-bake the pie crust: With the oven still at 375 degrees, bake the crust until light brown in color (don't overdo it), about 20 minutes. Transfer the pie plate to a wire rack. Increase the oven temperature to 425 degrees.
    10. Make the filling: While the pie crust is blind-baking, peel the warm sweet potatoes. Weigh 500 grams (a little over 2 cups) of sweet potatoes into the work bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, or a large bowl with a hand mixer (or a whisk, if you're wanting a workout). Beat the sweet potatoes on medium or medium-high speed until smooth and creamy. Pour in the melted butter, and mix until combined. Add the milk, eggs, and vanilla, and mix until combined. Add the sugars, flour, nutmeg, cinnamon, ginger, and salt, and mix on low speed until smooth.
    11. Add just enough frozen blueberries to cover the bottom of the still-warm, partially baked pie crust in a single layer (see photo above). Scrape the filling gently over the blueberries; the crust should be pretty full.
    12. Bake the pie: Bake at 425 degrees for 15 minutes. If the edges of the pie are browning quickly, tent the pie very loosely with a large square of aluminum foil. Lower the oven temperature to 350 degrees, and continue baking until the filling is pulling away from, and lightly cracked around, the edges, and a small-ish circle in the center of the pie wiggles slightly when jiggled, about 20–25 minutes (but start checking after 15 minutes). Transfer the pie back to the wire rack, and let cool at least until the filling is completely set, about 2 hours. Serve slightly warm or at room temperature.

Losing my pretension

Lest you think UaKS is moving in a new, insufferably hoity-toity direction, what with all the recent talk of books and poetry, this episode will disabuse you of that notion. 

On Dylan's recommendation, Mom and I recently watched "Baby Cobra," Ali Wong's 2016 Netflix comedy special. Wong shares my same goal of not having to "work at a office every day," albeit for different reasons. I agree with Wong that it would be nice not to spend my whole life working for the man and instead "just stay at home all day and eat snacks and watch Ellen." But Wong would also prefer not having a day job because housewives

don’t gotta shit in a office[, which means] they don’t gotta muffle their shit, too. They don’t gotta worry about the velocity with which their doo doo comes out. They don’t gotta try to, you know, squeeze the butt cheeks together to make sure that the doo doo comes out at a slow and steady pace, so that no unpredictable noise suddenly escapes and brings you deep, deep shame. Housewives are free to just blow ass into the toilet and let it echo and reverberate to the ends of their hallways while watching as much Netflix on their iPad as they want. They don’t gotta take these boring, repressed shits. They can listen to podcasts. Planet Money. They can do whatever they want.

You know, it’s very distracting for me when I hear my co-workers blow ass into the toilet. I lose respect for them. Nothing they say to me anymore holds any sort of credence. I heard one of my co-workers blow ass into the toilet the other day. This bitch had the nerve to come up to me and say, “You need to get to work on time.” I was like, “You need to eat bananas. I saw those green ballet flats. I know that shit was you. Don’t try to tell me to get my shit together when I heard you not have your shit together.”

This is usually more you all's sense of humor than mine (and Mom was laughing out loud, which is rare for anything other than her own jokes), but I've gotta admit I was laughing so hard at this bit that Mom thought I was going to pee on the sofa—not that anyone would notice since I was on the one that already smells like cat piss (sorry, Cassie). Anyway, "blowing ass" is now a new favorite expression around here.

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A peek inside my head

It isn't always this way in there, but this is sorta what it's like when I'm tired, or my leg hurts, or I'm otherwise on edge.



The Echo Chamber

Gum chew-Chew-CHEW chewing,
bubble blowing, pop-Pop-POP popping,
throat ahem-Ahem-AHEM clearing,
food m-m-m-masticating, chew-Chew-CHEW chewing,
pen click-click-click-Click-CLICK clicking,
knuckles crack-Crack-CRACK cracking,
keyboard tap-Tap-TAP tapping.
Sounds reverb-Verb-VERB reverberating,
bouncing around the bony shell of my skull.
Irritation rising,
sounds pluck-Pluck-PLUCK plucking at my nerves.

Coping strategies:
cover my ears;
run from the room;
listen to Mahler, Mendelssohn, Mozart,
anything to make it stop-Stop-STOP!

I just want to:
eat by breakfast, lunch, dinner;
read my paper;
drive downtown;
go to sleep,
in peace,
quietly.

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Lucy Grealy wrote that "[p]art of the job of being human is to consistently underestimate our effect on other people." (Autobiography of a Face [1994].) I look at the list of sounds that may set me off and see one or more things that each of you do (chewing your food, for god's sake). I asked Mom and she laughed and said you all know that it's my issue, not yours. But just in case ... the misophonia (and OCD* and whatever else) is my issue, not yours. I'm sorry if any of it had an effect on you and I didn't realize it. I may be old (like you always tell me), but it's never too late to make amends. Thanks for your patience.

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*You have no idea how long it takes me to write and re-write each of these dumb-ass episodes before I'll actually hit "Publish."

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Dylan asked if I had a good stuffing recipe ("or what?"), so I sent him the family's traditional recipe. I haven't made this myself in years, but the baking instructions seemed way off, so I've changed them as seemed appropriate.

Artichoke Stuffing

Adapted from a recipe in Pop-pop and Grandma Judy's files, with no indication as to the original provenance and I can't find it on the internet

14 slices good white or wheat bread (such as Arnold Country White or Trader Joe's Harvest Whole Wheat)
18 ounces jarred artichoke hearts, with liquid marinade (preferably), or frozen
½ cup (118 grams) water
1 stick (4 ounces) unsalted butter
2 medium onions (4 to 6 ounces each), chopped
salt
¼ cup minced fresh parsley
1 teaspoon minced fresh thyme, or ¼ teaspoon dried
1 teaspoon grated lemon zest
freshly ground black pepper

    1. The night before you're going to make the stuffing, tear or cut the bread into ½-inch pieces. Spread the pieces evenly across two 18-by-13-inch baking sheets.
    2. When you're ready to cook, place two racks in the center of the oven, and heat to 375 degrees. Spray a 13-by-9-inch casserole dish with nonstick cooking spray.
    3. Place the baking sheets in the oven, and toast the bread pieces until golden brown, about 8 minutes, rotating the pans after 4 minutes. Watch carefully. Set aside to cool. Lower the oven temperature to 325 degrees.
    4. Place the artichoke hearts (reserving the marinade) and water in a large saucepan. Bring to a boil, then simmer for 5 minutes (or until tender if using frozen artichoke hearts). Drain the artichokes (reserving the water if using frozen artichoke hearts), then chop them coarsely and place in a large bowl.
    5. In a 12-inch skillet, melt the butter over medium heat. Stir in the onions. Season with a good pinch of salt, and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent but not browned, about 5 to 7 minutes.
    6. Add the cooked onions to the large bowl, together with the toasted bread pieces, parsley, thyme, lemon zest, and salt and pepper to taste. Mix well, then moisten the mixture with the reserved artichoke marinade (or some of the artichoke cooking water if using frozen artichoke hearts).
    7. Scrape the mixture into the prepared baking pan, and cover with aluminum foil. Bake, stirring occasionally and adding more water as necessary, for 45 minutes or until soft. Uncover and bake until the top is browned, about 20 more minutes.

Mr. Drive By: the dud parent strikes again

When Cassie was going back to FSU on the Sunday after Thanksgiving, Mom volunteered me to drive her to the airport at 4:30 in the a of effing m. When I do the airport drop-off, I usually just leave you all at the curb outside the "departure" door, because (1) it's closer, so you don't have to lug your stuff from the parking lot to the airport, and (2) the security line is about 100 feet from the check-in desk, and I can't go through security with you anyway. So I went with the usual plan and dropped Cassie off at the curb and told her to call me on my cell if there were any issues, which she said she was fine with.

What I didn't count on was that it was the busiest travel day of the year. Little did I know that the security line wrapped around most of the C'ville airport. I was all the way back into town and just going by the County Office Building when Cassie called to fill me in on the sitch, as in, she was still pretty far back in the security line and boarding had already started for her flight. So I turned around and headed back to the airport. By the time I parked and ran into the airport, Cassie was still snaking her way through the line (with former C'ville police chief Tim Longo just a few folks behind her), with her 6:00 a.m. departure time rapidly approaching. Fortunately, they delayed her flight by 15 minutes, and Cassie got through security and made it onto her flight just in time. And who knows, maybe if I'd parked and walked in with Cass, those extra few minutes would have caused her to miss the flight. All's well that ends well, right?

At least that's what I thought until I got home and saw the three texts Mom had sent to my iPad instead of my phone, the last of which read "Don't be leaving the airport til she is on the plane Mr Drive By." Yikes! I sure hope my latest screw up doesn't make you all think twice about letting the dud parent have the privilege of driving you to the airport in the wee hours again. 😉 

And I may be the dud parent, but here's something I don't do—let you wait in the cold for a few extra minutes before I pick you up from school because I am running my finger around my iPad finishing yet another "Word Streak" tournament. If we run out of money to fund your college educations, now you know what we spent it on: 

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Family dinner conversation

Here are some snippets (the ones that don't involve bodily functions) from this week's family dinner conversations:

Cassie asked Brad what the subject of his high school PhD project would be. Brad said he was going to do it on Usain Bolt. Mom asked, "What's that?" Really. 

We were having some issues (okay, I was having some issues) with Mom using the same knife to cut sweet potatoes and the butter to put on the sweet potatoes. (Who wants little orange bits in the butter the next time you use it?) So we wondered where we all fall on the "particularity scale." Surprisingly, Brad ended up being the most particular, though I wasn't far behind. Mom is definitely the least particular, with Cass and Dylan pretty close to Mom.

After Brad beat me by about a minute-and-a-half in the Kelly Watt Memorial Race a few weeks ago, I age-graded my time, which came out 18 seconds faster than Brad's time, thereby allowing me to claim a (hollow) victory . . . right up until I realized that a 16-year-old might benefit from age-grading, too. Sure enough, his time was well under mine when I plugged it into the calculator. Which makes me wonder about age-grading, if it helps a young whippersnapper beat a poor, old guy on the downswing of his running career. I lamented this development to my one-syllable friend Jim, who wisely responded that "We only like age-grading when it works in our favor."

And we also discussed "hijacking the conversation," which reached a new level this week, even for us. Cassie has started breaking in loudly with "Anyway . . ." when she's trying to get the conversation back to the topic she was discussing before it was rudely hijacked by someone else. I may have to institute a hand-raising rule at the dinner table.

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We tried to keep the spirit of Thanksgiving going when Mom made her yam and apple casserole a week later, then I chipped in with this cranberry sauce, which is the easiest Thanksgiving side dish ever.

Cranberry Sauce

Adapted from King Arthur Flour

¾ cup (150 grams) granulated sugar
⅛ teaspoon salt
¾ cup (177 grams) to 1 cup (236 grams) water (use the greater amount of water for a softer sauce)
1 12-ounce bag of fresh cranberries (thawed if frozen), picked over

    1a. Stovetop: Combine the sugar, salt, and water in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium to medium-high heat. Stir in the cranberries and return to a boil. Reduce the heat and boil gently, stirring occasionally, until most of the cranberries have popped, about 10 to 12 minutes.
    1b. Bread machine: Select the Jam cycle on your bread machine. Leave the paddles in the bread pan. Pour the cranberries into the pan. Combine the sugar, salt, and water in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium to medium-high heat. Pour over the cranberries. Press Start, and go about your business until the cycle ends.
    2. Remove from the heat and transfer to a storage container. Cool completely at room temperature, then cover and refrigerate until serving time. Cranberries are high in pectin so the sauce will continue to thicken as it cools. Makes 2¼ cups.

Cranberry-Orange Sauce
Substitute ¼ cup of freshly squeezed orange juice for ¼ cup of the water. Add the zest of 1 orange along with the other ingredients.

Mom's specialty, episode II

364 days a year Mom’s culinary specialty is her Lasagna with Spinach and Cottage Cheese. But every year on Thanksgiving, Mom’s contribution is her special “yam-apple casserole.” The recipe calls for cooked chestnuts to be sprinkled over the sweet potatoes and apples before baking, but she never does that because it’s hard to find the chestnuts. This year, I saw Trader Joe's Peeled & Cooked Chestnuts the week before Thanksgiving, but they were nowhere to be found the week of Thanksgiving. When I went to do my regular Trader Joe’s shopping trip this week though, the chestnuts were back. So I picked up a package, and we had a special treat when Mom made her other specialty for us the second time in 10 days, this time with chestnuts. Now it’s only about 350 more days until we can have it again.

Rum-Glazed Sweet Potato, Apple, and Chestnut Gratin

Adapted from Gourmet Magazine

3 pounds sweet potatoes, pricked several times with a skewer
3 Golden Delicious apples, peeled and cut lengthwise into eighths
¼ cup fresh lemon juice
1 cup (5¼ ounces; 150 grams) vacuum-packed roasted chestnuts, halved (can substitute pecans)
6 tablespoons (3 ounces; 85 grams) unsalted butter
½ cup (3½ ounces; 100 grams) packed light brown sugar
½ cup (6 ounces; 170 grams) honey
2 tablespoons dark rum
½ teaspoon cinnamon
¼ teaspoon ground ginger
¼ teaspoon ground mace

    1. Place rack in center of oven. Heat oven to 400 degrees. Grease a 14-inch gratin dish or 13-by-9-inch lasagna pan.
    2. Bake the sweet potatoes, on top of a piece of aluminum foil, until tender, 45–60 minutes. Let them cool. Peel potatoes and cut them diagonally into ¼-inch slices.
    3. In a medium bowl, toss the apples with the lemon juice, then arrange them neatly in the prepared pan with the sweet potato slices. Sprinkle with the chestnuts (or pecans).
    4. In a small saucepan, cook the remaining ingredients over moderate heat, stirring occasionally, until the sugar is dissolved. Spoon the mixture over the sweet potatoes and apples.
    5. Bake the gratin, basting occasionally, until the apples are just tender and the sweet potatoes are heated through, about 30 minutes. (The uncooked gratin can be assembled 1 day ahead and kept, covered, in the fridge. Bake, uncovered, basting occasionally, for about 40 minutes.)
    6. Put the gratin under a preheated broiler about 4 inches from the heat until the edges are browned lightly. Serves 8. 

Microwave miracle, episode II

The turkey-and-vegetable-heavy array of food at Thanksgiving doesn't do a whole lot for Brad, so we decided to try some homemade dinner rolls at this year's meal. I had two recipes to try, but we made this one from Bob's Red Mill first and it was so good we didn't bother with the second recipe. And it's really easy, too, especially if you let a bread machine take care of mixing the dough and the first rise (though you can make the rolls by hand, too).

We actually had a fair number of rolls left over from the Thanksgiving meal, so I decided we needed some really good jam to eat with them. I returned to the aptly-named "Microwave Miracles" chapter in The New Basics Cookbook, in which appears the awesome Dried Cherry Chutney that is a staple on our Thanksgiving table every year. And, incredibly, the apricot marmalade is almost as miraculous as the chutney. Though it's not made from a citrus fruit, like a classic marmalade, it has the same tangy flavor, which I love, and was a perfect match for the leftover dinner rolls.

Dinner Rolls

Adapted from Bob’s Red Mill

This recipe was a first place winner at the 2014 Oregon State Fair.

7½ fluid ounces (221 grams; 1 cup less 1 tablespoon) water 
2 tablespoons (30 grams) milk
3 tablespoons (42 grams) unsalted butter, softened
3½ tablespoons (44 grams) brown sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1½ cups (205 grams) unbleached all-purpose flour
1½ cups (228 grams) stone ground whole-wheat flour
1½ teaspoons instant yeast; or 2 teaspoons active dry yeast

    1a. Bread machine: Add the ingredients to the bread pan in the order listed. Set the machine for the “Dough” cycle, and press "Start." Meanwhile, line a baking sheet (13-by-18-inch sheet pan) with parchment paper or a silicone mat.
    1b. By hand: Use a silicone spatula to combine all of the ingredients in a large bowl. Turn out onto a lightly floured work surface. Mix and knead until you have a soft, smooth dough. Place the dough in a lightly greased container. Cover with plastic wrap or a kitchen towel, and allow the dough to rise until it's just about doubled in bulk, 60 to 90 minutes. Meanwhile, line a baking sheet (13-by-18-inch sheet pan) with parchment paper or a silicone mat.
    2. When the dough cycle is finished, or the dough has risen enough, divide and form the dough into 12 equal balls (~65 grams each; use your kitchen scale if you want each of them to come out the same size and bake evenly). Place the balls on the prepared baking sheet, cover with greased plastic wrap, and let rise for 45 minutes. Towards the end of the rising time, preheat the oven to 350°F.
    3. Bake the rolls until golden, about 14 minutes. Cool completely on a wire rack.

Apricot Marmalade

Adapted from The New Basics Cookbook (1989) by Julee Rosso & Sheila Lukins

170 grams (6 ounces) dried apricots (I use Trader Joe's California Slab Apricots Blenheim Variety or Trader Joe's Blenheim Variety Extra Choice)
¼ cup (50 grams), plus 2 tablespoons (25 grams) granulated sugar
1 cup (236 grams) water
1 tablespoon (15 grams) freshly squeezed lemon juice
Zest of 1 lemon

    1. Place the apricots and ¼ cup sugar in the bowl of a food processor fitted with the steel blade. Process until the apricots are coarsely pureed, about 30 seconds.
    2. Scrape the pureed apricots into a microwave-safe 1- to 1½-quart bowl. Stir in the water, lemon juice and zest, and remaining 2 tablespoons sugar.
    3. Cook, uncovered, at full power for 8 minutes in a 700-watt microwave. If your microwave is more than 700 watts, adjust the cooking time or power setting. If your microwave does not have a carousel, rotate the container after 4 minutes.
    4. Stir the marmalade, then transfer to a 2-cup jar. Cool to room temperature, then cover tightly and refrigerate. The marmalade will keep for a week or two in the fridge. Makes about 1½ cups.

Giving thanks: some impressions from the holiday

"Ocean Might" © 2015 by Judith Grissmer

Wednesday
Running on the Audubon trail (running at all)
Road trip to the Northern Lights Bakery & Island Bookstore with Brad & Clint
An exciting game of cornhole 
Cassie playing the Mozart Bassoon Concerto
Cooking with Clint 
Dinner: good food, good company, Dylan explaining the true meaning of Thanksgiving 
Watching the UVA basketball game snuggled up with Mom

Thursday
Full moon over the sound first thing in the morning 
Watching everyone run the turkey trot 
A good nap
Watching soccer with Dylan
Talking to Grandpa Guy
A great meal
Watching "The Family Man" with Andi & Cassie

Friday
Keeping up with Brad on his slow recovery run
Lunch: ham and cherry chutney sandwich 
Backing up Brad's guarantee of victory at cornhole 
Island Bookstore with Cassie & Grandma Judy, then ...
Racing to find a good place to see the gorgeous sunset over the sound 
Mozart Bassoon Concerto (Reprise)
Playing "dumbass" games with the whole crew

Saturday
A perfect morning to run on the Audubon trail
Mom's enthusiasm for cornhole (and everything else)
Watching the UVA-Tech football game with the guys (despite the result)
Playing cards with the guys (despite the result)
Squeezing in one last meal with everyone 

Vegetarian Mushroom Thyme Gravy

Adapted from Food52

Time: 35 minutes

The original recipe has you steep the dried mushrooms in hot vegetable stock for 20 minutes, then chop the reconstituted mushrooms and add them to the gravy at the end. After seeing Cassie pick out all the little mushroom pieces, I realized I could get the same umami effect from the dried mushrooms by grinding them to a powder and adding them to the gravy that way instead. That has the added bonus of making this quicker and simpler to prepare, in addition to making it more palatable to Cassie. You can cut back to 2 tablespoons of flour if you want a less creamy, more free-flowing, gravy. How salty your vegetable broth or stock is will determine how much tamari or soy sauce you need to use.

10 grams (~⅓ cup) dried shiitake or porcini mushrooms (see note)
3 tablespoons (22 grams) all-purpose flour or Thai sweet/glutinous white rice flour (see note)

3 tablespoons (42 grams) unsalted butter

2 tablespoons minced shallot (~1 small shallot)

2 cups low-sodium vegetable broth or stock

½ cup (116 grams) light cream

2–3 tablespoons reduced-sodium tamari or soy sauce (see note)

1 tablespoon dry sherry

2 teaspoons minced fresh thyme

¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

salt, if needed

    1. Grind the dried mushrooms to a fine powder in a spice grinder (a coffee grinder used only for grinding spices works well for this job), 15 to 30 seconds. You should have about a scant ¼ cup of mushroom powder. In a small ramekin or pinch bowl, stir together the flour and 1 tablespoon of the mushroom powder. Store the rest of the mushroom powder in a clean spice jar in the cupboard.

    2. Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add the shallot and sauté until softened but not browned, 3 to 4 minutes. Stir in the flour-mushroom powder mixture. Cook, whisking constantly, until the mixture turns a light beige color, about 2 minutes.

    3. Gradually add the vegetable stock, whisking well after each addition until thickened. Add the cream, tamari or soy sauce, sherry, thyme, and pepper. Bring to a boil (still over medium heat), stirring frequently, then cook just until thickened to the desired consistency. Taste and adjust for salt (you probably won’t need any) and pepper.

Microwave miracle

My contribution to the Thanksgiving meal every year is pretty slender. Other than agitating once in a while for a dry-brined turkey, I leave the main dishes to everyone else, and I take care of a condiment—and a ridiculously easy-to-make condiment at that.

Your Uncle Bob introduced me to Dried Cherry Chutney. I was at a shindig at his house many years ago when he rolled out this unassuming little container of the chutney and told me try it. Little did I know I was about to taste the ultimate condiment for the first time. It's got the usual chutney flavor components—sweet, sour, spicy—but there's just something about this one that sets it apart. Maybe because it's not too busy, like many other chutneys with a long ingredient list that try to pack in too many different flavors. This one has just what it needs to make it great and no more.

There's a lot of fresh ginger in this chutney so I'm especially pleased to make it this year using this big honking piece of ginger I picked up recently at the City Market from Planet Earth Diversified. Last year, I bought a smaller piece, which I trimmed, peeled, and kept in a plastic bag in the freezer, where it lasted a whole year. When I need some, I just grate it on my Microplane while the ginger is still frozen. It's a little frosty on the digits, but it works great.

Dried Cherry Chutney

Adapted from The New Basics Cookbook (1989) by Julee Rosso and Sheila Lukins

Time: 27 minutes (12 minutes prep, 15 minutes cooking)

This is another one of those recipes where it's helpful to read the preceding notes in the chapter in which it appears, which in this case is aptly named "microwave miracles." The pertinent information here is that the recipe was tested in a "carousel microwave of 650 to 700 watts." Nowadays, most microwaves have more power than that, in which case you'd have to cook the chutney for less time or adjust the power setting. Our microwave dates back to August 1989 (which was a particularly awesome month) and happens to be 700 watts, so I can follow the cooking times in the recipe. On the other hand, it doesn't have a carousel, so I have to "rotate the dish during the cooking time," as suggested in the notes. 

265 grams (2 cups) pitted dried cherries (Trader Joe's Dried Pitted Tart Montmorency Cherries are good) 

250 grams (1¼ cups) granulated sugar

180 grams (¾ cup) white vinegar

90 grams (6 tablespoons) 100% apple juice 

45 grams (3 tablespoons) freshly squeezed lemon juice

35 grams (¼ cup) finely chopped celery (~1 large or 2 small stalks)
25 grams (¼ cup) fresh ginger, minced or grated on a Microplane 

½ teaspoon dried crushed red pepper flakes

 

    1. Combine all the ingredients in a microwave-safe 2-quart bowl (your kitchen scale comes in handy here). Stir well.

  2. Cook, uncovered, at full power for 6 minutes in a 700-watt microwave. If your microwave is more than 700 watts, adjust the cooking time or power setting. If your microwave doesn't have a carousel, rotate the container 90 degrees after 3 minutes. Stir the mixture, making sure the sugar has dissolved, and return the bowl to the microwave. Cook for another 8 minutes, rotating the container after 4 minutes and/or adjusting the cooking time or power setting as needed. 

3. Carefully remove the bowl from the microwave. It will look like there's way too much liquid left at this point (see the photo above). But sugar is hygroscopic so the chutney will tighten up considerably as the sugar sucks up the excess moisture as the chutney cools. Don't make the same mistake I did the first time I made this recipe and cook it down more or you'll have cherry brittle instead of chutney. When the chutney is cool, transfer it to an airtight container and store it in the fridge, where it will keep for at least a week. If you have any left over from Thanksgiving, it makes a zesty sandwich spread. Makes about 2 cups.