Posted by Anita on 01.13.07 3:05 PM
This month’s Mixology Monday, hosted by the folks over at Imbibe Unfiltered, features Winter Warmers — a happy thing for those of us who happen to be living in unheated basements. Now, I realize that “warmers” refers to these drinks’ effect on the drinker’s internal comfort, rather than the temperature at which they’re served. But with the weather in Fog City threatening to dip into the 20s overnight, a double-dose of warmth seems wise.
I was looking for something that packed the twin punch of alcohol and heat, along the lines of an Irish Coffee. But unlike my better half, I am not much of a coffee drinker. I love the taste, but I can’t do caffeine… especially once the sun goes down. Mexican chocolate is one of my favorite warm drinks, so it seemed natural to fortify this brunchtime favorite with a nip of something strong.
Plenty of complementary liqueurs came to mind; we tried brandy, Cointreau, Kahlua, and even nocino. But in the end, tequila worked best. A tot of mezcal adds fire and a touch of funk, which keeps the drink from veering off into sickly-sweet territory. A dash of orange bitters rounds out the taste and keeps the tequila’s aroma in check. (In a pinch, Cointreau or another orange liqueur would do the same, but the drink needs no extra sweetness.)
The Spanish word chispa literally translates to “spark”, but it also has connotations of enthusiasm, liveliness, and — a ha! — small amounts of liquor. And in some parts of Latin America, chispada (lit. “sparked”) is a colloquial expression for “buzzed” or “tipsy”. More genteel than borracho (“drunk”), it’s something you might say about your grandma after she’d gotten uncharacteristically alegre at a family gathering. In other words, you’ve imbibed just enough alcohol to warm your toes, but not enough to slur your speech.
If you don’t want to buy Mexican chocolate tablets just for this recipe, feel free to make your own, or simply add cinnamon (preferably canela) to your usual hot cocoa mix or recipe. The texture won’t be the same, but the flavors will still sing.
La Chispa
Mexican chocolate, such as Ibarra or Abuelita
1 cup milk
1 to 1.5 oz. medium-quality tequila, to taste
2 dashes orange bitters (or a dash of Cointreau)
whipped cream, perferably unsweetened
Prepare the Mexican chocolate according to package directions — typically 8 oz. hot milk blended with 2 wedges of chocolate tablets. In a mug or an Irish coffee glass, combine the tequila, bitters and the hot chocolate, and stir gently to combine. Top with a dollop of whipped cream, and dust with cinnamon or chile powder.
Drink of the Week, drinks, Mixology Monday, other blogs, recipes
2 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 01.05.07 10:00 AM
Cookiecrumb over at I’m Mad and I Eat and Kev at Seriously Good have challenged one another to a mac-n-cheese-off, an ooey-gooey duel, a fight to the death on the field of fromage. Their chosen weapons? Bechamel, pasta… and cheese.
What is it about humble ol’ Mac & Cheese that brings out the competitive spirit in otherwise mild-mannered foodies? Last year, our old Seattle crew hosted a mac & cheese showdown, where no fewer than half a dozen recipes vied for the crown. And about a month ago, Union — one of Jet City’s top restaurants — hosted a citywide smackdown (mac-down?) that got promoted on local radio.
I’ve got a few favorite recipes in the files, including a 5-minute version that I make sometimes for breakfast, but no single concoction owns my allegiance… certainly not enough for me to want to enter it into public competition. But the eye-rollingly good version I serve to company — as a side dish, mind you — comes courtesy of our friend Wendy, the hostess with the mostest, who’s tweaked Martha Stewart’s recipe to the point of decadence.
Fondue Mac and Cheese
4T (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, plus more for dish
2 slices good white bread, grated coarsely
2 cups whole milk
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 to 1/2 cup white wine
1 tsp. salt
1/8 tsp. each freshly grated nutmeg, freshly ground black pepper, and cayenne pepper
1/2 pound sharp white Cheddar cheese, grated
6 ounces Gruyère cheese, grated
1/2 pound penne
Heat oven to 375°F. Butter a 9×9 baking dish, and set aside. Place bread in a medium bowl. In a small saucepan over medium heat, melt 1T butter. Pour butter into bowl with breadcrumbs, and toss. Set breadcrumbs aside.
Fill a large saucepan with water, and bring to a boil. Add penne, and undercook by 2 to 3 minutes, until the outside of the pasta is just cooked. Transfer macaroni to a colander and drain well, shaking the colander to remove as much water as possible from inside the penne. Set penne aside.
Heat milk in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Melt remaining butter in a high-sided skillet over medium heat. When butter bubbles, add the flour and whisk for 1 minute. While continuing to whisk, slowly pour in hot milk. Continue cooking, whisking constantly, until the mixture bubbles and becomes thick. Turn off heat, and whisk in the wine, salt, nutmeg, black pepper, cayenne pepper, and both cheeses, reserving 1 cup of cheese for topping.
Stir macaroni into the cheese sauce, then pour mixture into prepared dish. Sprinkle remaining cheese over top, followed by the buttered breadcrumbs. Bake until browned on top, about 30 minutes. Transfer casserole to a wire rack, and cool 5 minutes; serve hot.
food boards, other blogs, recipes, Seattle
18 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 01.05.07 7:27 AM
When it comes to kitchen remodels, no news is good news. Our contractor’s crew of Irish lads has been rapidly turning the old kitchen into a pile of rubble and debris, and — contrary to our worst fears — there was nothing evil lurking within our 85-year-old house’s walls, floors, or ceilings. Let’s celebrate!
As we stood in the beer aisle, contemplating which six-pack to buy for our demo crew (so that they can toast a good week’s work today, too), Cameron veoted my suggestion of something from The Old Country as being too cliché. But conversations with charming men possessed of lilting brogues leaves me craving a pint of stout, so we put a few Guinness Drafts in the shopping cart. On second thought, seeing as how this was a special occasion, perhaps Champagne would be more apt. So we put a split of bubbly into the cart, too.
Back at home, we faced a serious dilemma: Guinness, or bubbly? Well, why not both…
Black Velvet
Irish stout, preferably Guinness Draft
Sparkling wine
Pour Irish stout into a pilsner or tall glass, to the halfway mark. Top with sparkling wine.
beer, Drink of the Week, recipes, wine & bubbly
5 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 01.01.07 4:22 PM
We’ve had a crazy mixed-up holiday season this year, getting ready for the remodel and spending copious amounts of time away from San Francisco. There was no tree this year, no holiday baking, not even a wreath on the door. I consider myself damned lucky that we even got cards in the mail, and only a little embarrassed that they were store-bought (and bore postmarks precariously close to the 25th).
One of the holiday traditions I’ve been craving the most is a relatively new one for us: On New Year’s Day 2003 — during the Seattle Experiment — we made our first cassoulet, and served it to five good friends. Our sit-down meal started with three dozen oysters and a big green salad, and ended with a long walk!
After skipping the festivities in 2004 — we were moving into a new house — we decided to revive the cassoulet tradition two years ago. On January 1, 2005, we invited our entire crew over for an all-afternoon open house, which was simultaneously easier (for not having to find a dozen chairs or matching plates) but also more difficult (keeping cassoulet hot but accessible over the course of the afternoon).
I suspect that party made a deep impression, because one of my Seattle friends asked me for my cassoulet recipe last summer, 18 months after the fact. And then another asked me, just last week, whether I’d be making cassoulet for New Year’s Day this year. Alas, I told him, we’ll be packing up the kitchen for good on January 1 — not a good time to be nursing a giant pot of pork-and-beans a la francais. And anyway, I’d be at my parents’ house through the 29th, leaving me no time to prep duck confit or perform the multi-day mise-en-place that my usual recipe requires.
You see this coming, non?
I’m not sure what got me so obsessed, but I think seeing both Toulouse sausage and duck confit on the Fatted Calf newsletter last week might have been the trigger. Yeah, they’re both on the list every week, I suppose, but my subconscious is working overtime. I became fixated on making cassoulet, somehow: Perhaps if I bought some of the hard-to-make ingredients, rather than making them myself, it wouldn’t be such a crazy idea?
In the back of my mind, I remembered my sister mentioning a “cheater’s cassoulet” she and her husband had made a while back. I checked the usual places for a recipe that seemed to fit that bill, to no avail. I dropped her a line, and asked if she remembered the shortcut I was taking about.
“I think it’s Bittman,” she answered. “We’ll email it to you tonight.”
Sure enough, when it arrived, the recipe was classic Bittman, embodying everything I loathe about his Minimalist shtick, complete with unnecessary substitutions (Italian sausage?? pork tenderloin??) and an outrageously short cooking time. And let’s be honest — there’s no way any bean stew tastes good in less than an hour. That recipe’s no cassoulet; it doesn’t even play one on TV.
Stuck between my old standby — which takes three days, from start to finish, not including the month-long process of making and curing the duck confit — and this 45-minute abomination, I decided there must be some middle ground.
Starting from the 72-hour version, I reduced quantities to keep leftovers in check, then pared down the steps to the essentials, and eliminated some of the crazier ingredients. I ended up with a dish that can be prepped over the course of a lazy morning, leaving enough time for a long, slow braise that coasts into an early supper as the winter sun wanes.
Of course, if you’ve the luxury of time, feel free to break things down into more-manageable blocks, as noted below.
One-Day Cassoulet
1 pound dried white beans that hold their shape when cooked
1 large yellow onion, peeled and cut into 1-inch chunks
1/4 cup duck fat or chicken fat or lard — divided use
1 meaty ham bone or ham hock (about 3/4 pound)
3 small sprigs fresh thyme
salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1 pound fresh garlic pork sausage, cut into 2-inch chunks
2 to 4 whole confit duck legs, drumsticks and thighs separated
additional unsalted duck, chicken, or ham broth, or water
1/2 to 1 cup toasted breadcrumbs, or panko
Rinse the beans, and soak in your usual manner; drain and set aside.
In a large saucepan or bean pot, saute the onion in 2T duck fat over medium heat until soft. Add the beans, thyme, and the ham hock or ham bone, and cover with water. Bring to a boil over high heat.
Reduce to a low simmer, and cook until the beans are tender but not fully cooked — about 45 minutes for heirloom beans, longer for store-bought. Remove ham bone or hock from the broth, and set aside to cool. Season beans and their liquid to taste with salt and pepper, and set aside. When cool enough to handle, cut meat from the hock or bone into large chunks. Discard the bones (and skin, if you’ve used a smoked hock) and return the meat to the bean pot.
Heat the remaining 2T duck fat in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the duck confit pieces, and cook until browned. Remove from pan and set aside on a plate. Add the sausage pieces to the pan, and brown on all sides, approximately 10 minutes. Deglaze the pan with 1 cup of the bean juices, scraping to dislodge the browned bits; return the enriched juices to the bean pot.
(This makes a nice stopping point, if you’re preparing the cassoulet over two or more days. Be sure to store the beans in their liquid, and remember to bring all ingredients back to temperature before proceeding.)
Preheat the oven to 350F.
With a slotted spoon, place half of the bean-ham mixture into a wide casserole, preferably earthenware or enameled cast-iron. Cover the beans with sausages, then a layer of the duck confit. Cover with the remaining beans, and add just enough of the bean juices to reach the top layer of beans, leaving their top edges exposed. Reserve the extra bean liquid. (Depending on your pan, you may need more liquid, either at this stage or during the moistening process. You can use unsalted chicken broth or — if you’re confident in the flavors of your ingredients — water, but make sure the liquid is warm before adding to the pot, or you’ll slow the cooking process.)
Bake the cassoulet, uncovered, until the mixture comes to a simmer and a crust begins to form, usually about an hour. Break the crust with the back of a spoon, and push the crust under the liquid. Reduce heat to 250F, and cook for as long as you can bear the aroma (2 to 5 hours more), checking every 30 minutes to make sure the cassoulet is still bubbling, and adding more warm liquid as needed to keep the mixture moist but not sodden.
(If you have time, you can cool the cassoulet completely at this point and then refrigerate it, covered with aluminum foil, for a day or two. As with most stews, this resting period will improve the cassoulet, not harm it. If you take this route, warm the cassoulet to room temperature the day you’ll serve it — at least 45 minutes — and heat for an hour in a 350F oven before proceeding to the next step. Again, remoisten as needed.)
Top with the bread crumbs, and cook for 15 to 20 minutes longer. Remove the cassoulet from the oven, and allow to rest 10 minutes before serving.
holidays & occasions, recipes
4 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 12.29.06 7:12 AM
Not that any of our regular readers will be overindulging this weekend… but just in case you find yourself in need of a wee “hair of the dog” after late nights and too much holiday cheer, here’s a recipe for a classic morning-after tipple to put you back to rights.
If you’re feeling too fuzzy to make your own tomahhhto juice, feel free to substitute V-8 or another flavorful store-bought brand. But juicing your own makes for a crisp, tomatoey taste you can’t get from commercial stuff, and a pleasant viscosity that helps keep all the seasonings afloat.
Need another excuse to whip up a Bloody Mary? Matt gives you 10 of them, fresh from the archives.
Slightly Fancy Bloody Mary
Makes 3-4
1 (28-ounce) can whole peeled tomatoes in juice (preferably Muir Glen)
1T Worcestershire sauce
2T freshly squeezed lemon juice
6-8 ounces vodka
Tabasco sauce
Grated horseradish*
Cajun seasoning salt, such as Tony Chachere’s (or celery salt, or garlic salt)
Lemon wedges, celery hearts, green olives
Process tomatoes and their juice in a food processor. Strain the puree through a coarse sieve into a non-metallic container, stirring and pushing the puree through the seive until you’re left with just seeds and about 1/4 cup of dryish pulp, which you can discard. You’ll end up with a generous 2 cups of thick tomato juice. Add the Worcestershire sauce and lemon juice to the seived juice, and refrigerate at least 1 hour, until well chilled.
In a highball glass, stir together 2 ounces vodka, 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon horseradish, a generous pinch of seasoning salt, and Tabasco sauce to taste (start with 3 drops). Fill the glass 2/3 full with ice and add 6 ounces of the tomato juice mixture. Taste and adjust seasonings, if necessary. Garnish each drink with a lemon wedge and a celery heart, and olives if desired.
*Either fresh-grated from a horseradish root, or bottled horseradish without any creamy additives; “prepared horseradish” will make the drink cloudy and slick.
breakfast, Drink of the Week, recipes
4 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 12.22.06 6:30 AM
I’ll start right off by saying you’re just going to have to trust me on this one. I’m sure your first reaction will be the same as mine: A raised eyebrow and a faintly upturned nose. But sneer at your own peril.
At the top of the month, Cameron and I found ourselves at Sutra, attending to the festivities of the office holiday party. Amid cold canapes and hot gossip, we overheard my boss order a Gin and Coke from a passing cocktail waitress.
“Gin and Coke, did you say?” I inquired.
“Mm, yeah.” he replied, sensing my skepticism. “Something I used to drink a lot when I lived in Spain.”
Hours passed, with conversation lubricated by liberal wine pours (made even more generous by waiters struggling to pacify our large party as we waited far, far too long for entrees). The boss ordered another of his bizarre beverages, and I couldn’t help but dig a little deeper.
“So, tell me again how you came to drink this… curious cocktail,” I quipped.
By way of response, he simply offered me his glass. One of my culinary resolutions this year was to taste anything once, so I took a tentative sip. And then another. And then a huge grin broke across my face as I realized that this kooky concoction — something that sounds like you’d drink it only in desperation — is surprisingly good. I mean, it’s no Manhattan, but it would make a solid option should you find yourself in a bar of suspect mixological credibility.
The instruction continued: “In Spain, they make it with a gin called Larios, which is like Gordon’s. Don’t mess it up with the fancy stuff — you need a gin with a bit of bite.” The garnish? Possibly lime, but more probably lemon to be authentic. (Apparently, they’re not much for limes en España.)
One last obstacle remained: “Gin & Coke” is a terrible name, not the least because it sounds, well, rather disgusting. I suggested we christen it with the boss’s surname, but he demured.
“Call it the Orpez,” he countered, with a wistful tone and a far-away stare. “She’s the one who introduced it to me.”
La Orpez
1-1/2 ounces gin
Coke
wedge of lemon
Add the gin to an ice-filled rocks glass, then fill the glass with Coke; stir to combine. Garnish with a wedge of lemon, and serve with a jaunty Iberian air.
Drink of the Week, recipes
5 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 12.15.06 6:49 AM
I’ve had the idea in my head for this drink for a while, but never got around to putting it together. For one thing, I was at a bit of a loss as to how to get all the various flavors I wanted to combine into alcoholic form.
I wanted to create a drink that offered the lushness of pears with the punch of ginger — a classic combo, to be sure. Although I knew I could make (or buy) ginger-flavored simple syrup, I was worried that so much sugar would push the cocktail in a sicky-sweet direction… definitely not my style, especially as I wanted to build off the flavors of my favorite Belle de Brillet pear cognac.
I consulted with my friend Sean — who knows his way around infusions — but he confessed that his sole attempt at ginger vodka turned out rather blah.
While browsing the baking aisle in the last few weeks before Christmas, an idea struck me: What about infusing vodka with candied ginger, rather than fresh? The flavor’s already concentrated by the candying process, and the little bit of sugar coating the chunks would dilute in the final mix.
So, I took about 3 ounces of candied ginger chunks, and covered them with a cup of vodka in a lidded jar. After the first day, I was worried — the ginger smelled like pine-scented kitchen cleaner, and the vodka tasted sharp and acid. Ugh. I set the jar aside, and resolved to try another route, after the holidays.
The next morning, I shook the jar, mostly out of idleness. And what do you know: As I rattled the ginger against the glass, I noticed dark, syrupy threads diluting into the vodka. Hm! A quick taste test showed we were definitely making progress. By yesterday morning — 3 days after starting the infusion — the mixture actually tasted like something you’d want to drink.
Last night, I decided to try a test run: Belle de Brillet and candied-ginger vodka stirred with ice, then strained into a tasting glass. Both the pear and the ginger seemed overpowering… but what about that bottle of bubbly in the fridge? I poured the mixed liquors into a small cocktail glass, and topped them with a float of the sparkling wine. Success! The dryness and effervessence neatly cut the sugar and the strong flavors, making for a lovely cocktail with a hint of sweetness and a kick of spice.
The Gilded Pear
1-1/2 oz. Belle de Brillet pear-cognac
1 ounce candied-ginger vodka
sparkling wine
Stir the cognac and the ginger vodka in a bar glass with ice; then strain into a small cocktail glass. Top with the sparkling wine.
Drink of the Week, preserving & infusing, recipes, wine & bubbly
10 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 12.08.06 7:49 AM
The Spirit World’s hosting this month’s edition of MxMo, with the theme of “cocktails for a festive occasion” — holiday-themed drinks that, ideally, can be made in bulk, ahead of time, and that guests can pour themselves.
This one’s easy: I love eggnog, and I don’t even mind the stuff that comes in a carton at the megamart. When winter rolls around, I keep a quart on hand in the fridge, and it makes a good option (minus the strengthening shot of booze, of course) for those mornings when I don’t have time for real breakfast.
The custardy eggnog below is a variation of a Cook’s Illustrated recipe. It’s a little more complicated than a standard eggnog where you simply whisk everything together, but it yields a more luscious drink… and one that’s a lot less prone to grossing out your guests than eggnogs that use raw eggs (and leave slimy dregs in your glass).
I’ve halved the original recipe, which made 12 exceedingly rich servings. (I like eggnog, but not with every meal for a week…) Even so, the recipe is still good for a small crowd; feel free to double it, should your guest list require.
Velvet Eggnog
3 large eggs
1 egg yolk
1/4 cup + 1T granulated sugar
pinch table salt
2 cups whole milk
1/4 cup spiced rum or brandy
1-1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1/4 tsp freshly grated nutmeg, plus extra for garnish
1/4 tsp allspice
1/4 cup heavy cream, whipped to soft peaks, plus extra for garnish
Whisk the eggs, yolk, sugar and salt in a heavy medium saucepan. Stir in the milk gradually, blending well. Turn the heat to low and stir contantly until custard thickens and lightly coats the back of a spoon, approximately 25 minutes.
Pour the custard through a fine seive into a large bowl. Cool to room temperature by stirring gently, preferably over a cold-water bath. Stir in the booze and other seasonings. Cover tightly and refrigerate at least 3 hours.
Before serving, fold the whipped cream into the custard mixture. Serve, garnished with a dollop of whipped cream and grated nutmeg.
Makes six 1/2-cup servings.
Note: Feel free to make this recipe ahead for parties — the eggnog keeps in a well-chilled fridge for up to 3 days, and the flavors improve with time.
Drink of the Week, drinks, entertaining, holidays & occasions, Mixology Monday, other blogs, recipes
5 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 12.03.06 9:02 PM
Over on My Life as a Reluctant Housewife, Gabriella invited us to share favorite autumn salads. When I read her post, my first thought was of Autumn Vegetables with Goat Ricotta, a complicated concoction I’d seen in the Babbo Cookbook featuring an array of fall veggies tossed with prickly lettuces and garnished with a both a dressing and two flavored oils.
We hunted the farmers’ market for sunchokes, celery root, parsnips, and golden beets (to substitute for the squash neither of us likes), then tackled all of the mise en place — making sage oil, braising the beets, and roasting the sunchoke slices with cumin — over the course of a few evenings. Imagine our letdown when we tasted it, and found the flavors rather blah.
It wasn’t a total loss: The cumin-roasted sunchokes are good enough that I’d make them separately as a side dish. And crostini smeared with Cowgirl Creamery sheep’s ricotta… what’s not to like? But this is a tease of a dish: A ton of work for relatively little payoff; a gorgeous, show-stopping plate with no soul.
The next night, I was casting about for a way to use a tiny smidge of guanciale from Fatted Calf, too small to be used in a main course, but too large to waste. Flipping through my recipe clippings, I noticed an appealing salad from the September issue of Gourmet. Substituting pecorino for the ricotta salata, and replacing pancetta with guanciale, I actually had everything on hand that I needed to make this delicious autumn salad… one that’s hearty enough that you’ll enjoy eating it on a chilly evening, and simple enough to make on a whim.
Pear and Arugula Salad
1 T Champagne vinegar
1 T honey
1-1/2 tsp. lemon juice
salt & pepper, to taste
3 T olive oil
—
2 oz thinly sliced guanciale
1 T olive oil
1 firm-ripe pear
4 cups baby arugula
3 oz. pecorino romano, thinly shaved
Whisk together vinegar, honey, lemon juice, salt, and pepper in a salad bowl. Add oil in a slow stream, whisking until well emulsified.
Cook guanciale in a 10-inch heavy skillet over moderate heat, turning frequently, until just crisp. Transfer to paper towels to drain, and crumble into bite-size pieces.
Halve the pear lengthwise, core it, and cut lengthwise into 1/4-inch-thick slices. Add pears to dressing along with arugula, cheese, and guanciale, tossing to coat.
Serves 4.
cookbooks, magazines, other blogs, recipes
1 Comment »
Posted by Anita on 12.02.06 8:10 AM
Apparently, Mom’s been keeping secrets from me.
I never knew until a few years ago, when Mom gave me a few of his carbon-steel knives, that her grandfather, my Great-grandpa Vivaldelli, had been a chef. And, although I knew that Mom’s mom, my Grandma Anne, was a dedicated cook, I never knew a thing about Angel Pie.
Mom and I were sitting around after Thanksgiving, talking about pies in general, and old-fashioned pies specifically, when she first mentioned it.
“Auntie Pat makes it all the time,” she said. “I need to get the recipe from her.”
And then, almost as an afterthought: “I have a newspaper clipping somewhere with a picture of Grandma and that pie. It was her specialty.”
Sure enough, the next morning, a yellowed clipping from the Glendale News-Press appeared at my place at the breakfast table. And there’s Grams, in a shirtwaist dress, cutting a slice of her popular — but, one must admit, rather homely — Angel Pie. The iron trivets now in my mom’s kitchen (and my own) are hanging on the wall behind her, and familiar glass canisters line the counter.
November 14, 1959
No Weighty Problems for Reiks
Imagine a family with no weight problems that can eat all the dessert it wants. This is the case of the Robert C. Reiks and their four children, Nancy, 18; Toni, 15; Bob, 13; and Patty, 12.
Mrs. Reik (Anne), whose father was a chef for leading hotels in Chicago, has taught her three daughters to cook … any one of them can prepare a meal. Mr. Reik, an amateur chef, confines his art to the backyard barbecue.
Mrs. Reik’s current hobby is making braided woolen rugs. She has always collected recipes, and says her Chocolate Nut Angel Pie hits the jack pot [sic]. She keeps copies to offer friends because once a person tastes this dessert, he wants the recipe.
I have to suspect the author took a few liberties. I can’t imagine that Grandma never taught my Uncle Bugs to cook. And — at least by the time I was around — Gramps certainly never confined himself to the barbecue… he was quite an accomplished cook!
But, at least she got the recipe right:
Chocolate Nut Angel Pie
1/2 cup sugar
1/8 tsp. cream of tartar
2 egg whites
1/2 cup chopped walnuts (or pecans)
3/4 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
3 T hot water
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 cup heavy cream, whipped
Butter a 9-inch pie plate, and set aside.
Sift sugar and cream of tartar together. Beat egg whites until stiff, but not dry. Add sugar gradually, while continuing to beat until smooth and glossy.
Line the prepared pie plate with this mixture. Keep center hollowed out to 1/2-inch thickness, and do not spread meringue on rim of plate. Sprinkle with nuts.
Bake in slow oven, 275º F, about 1 hour, or until delicately browned and crisp to touch. Cool thoroughly.
Melt chocolate in a large bowl over a pan of simmering water. Add 3 T hot water to the chocolate, and stir; cook until thickened. Remove from heat and cool slightly. Add vanilla, then fold in whipped cream. Turn into meringue shell. Chill 2 to 3 hours, or until set.
baking, dessert, family, recipes
4 Comments »
