10/6+7+5

I’ve found that cooking potatoes is a lot like cooking pasta: it just doesn’t look like enough in the pot, so you keep adding more and in the end you have more than you need.

This happened on Thanksgiving Day. In preparation of Thanksgiving dinner for 14 sailors, my daughter and her roommate, my husband and I went shopping with our list at the Navy commissary. This was an experience in itself.

Unfortunately, every Navy family near the commissary had the same idea the day before us. It was slim pickings on the sweet potatoes, parsnips and white potatoes.

Slim pickings really don’t describe the sweet potato situation. I don’t know what it is about West Coast sweet potatoes, but they were as large as pumpkins. I had planned on making whole roasted sweet potatoes, cutting a little slit on the top and placing a large marshmallow inside to melt in the final few minutes of roasting time. Nice presentation, but it doesn’t work with a 7-pound sweet potato.

I had us all rummaging through the bin of monster sweet potatoes to find the smallest available. We came away with 6 medium-size sweet potatoes.

That evening, after making the pumpkin pies and stuffing, I fretted over the sweet potato situation and convinced my daughter we should go to another store to look for more sweet potatoes.

We did and we returned with 7 more potatoes of normal size.

The next morning as we prepared the roasted vegetables and soup, my husband announced he was going to the store for flowers and other last minute items. Of course, I asked him to bring back more sweet potatoes.



The final count was 18 sweet potatoes. The final count around the dinner table was 10.

Take the above scenario and repeat it for white potatoes for garlic roasted mashed potatoes. There were enough potatoes to feed, well, the Navy.

I’ve always felt, especially when preparing Thanksgiving dinner that it’s better to have too much than not enough. Now, that’s something to be thankful for.

Mashed Potatoes with Lemon-Thyme Butter
10 tablespoons butter at room temperature
4 teaspoons minced fresh thyme or 2 teaspoons dried
1 tablespoons minced lemon zest
4 pounds russet or Yukon gold potatoes, cubed
1 1/2 cups half-and-half

Mix the butter, thyme, and lemon zest in a small bowl. Season with salt and pepper. Place potatoes in a large pot and cover with cold water. Bring to a boil. Cover partially and cook until potatoes are very tender, about 20 minutes. Drain. Return potatoes to the same pot and mash. Heat half-and-half in a small saucepan over medium heat until hot; stir into potatoes. Set aside 2 tablespoons of the lemon-thyme butter. Mix remaining seasoned butter into potatoes. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Transfer mashed potatoes to a large bowl. Top with the remaining 2 tablespoons lemon-thyme butter and serve hot. Serves 10.

I had a great title, but I forgot what it was.

I once read that as we age our brain cells die progressively at an alarming rate. Lately I can attest to that. The world around me has become increasingly puzzling. On a firsthand basis, I have made observations as to which brain cells die first.

1. The brain cells that control operating electronic equipment are the first to go. Just the other night I wanted to record a program on TV while I watched another. I sat staring at the remote. What do I have to do first?

“First I have to turn the TV to channel 3, then I have to find the VCR/DVD remote and turn it on, then I have to push the set up button, then I have to find out when the program starts and ends and then I have to push the timer button. Where is that tiny button?” I muttered to myself while fumbling with the remote control. If my daughter was around, she would have grabbed the remote, pressed a bunch of buttons with lightening speed and then handed it back to me everything all set.

2. The next brain cells to go are the ones that tell you what you are doing at the bottom of the stairs or at the top as the case may be. I spend half my day retracing steps so I can recall just what it was I came down the steps to get or do.

(This is cutting into my time of trying to remember where I put my coffee cup, store receipt, address book, camera, or car.)

3. Next to go is short term memory. This results in losing courses during dinner preparation and serving. This morning my husband went to heat up a muffin in the microwave and found last night’s green beans in a delightful basil and vinegar sauce.

4. The last brain cells to go are those that prioritize. In the last 10 years, my priorities have changed from pleasure, career, family, to career, family, pleasure and as we speak family, pleasure, career. This became evident as I recently shopped for a new car. As I sat across the desk from the car sales clerk I asked, “What are the safety features of this car?”

“It has a stereo with six speakers,” he told me.

“But does it have side air bags?” I asked again.

“There’s a switch on the cassette that boosts the bass,” he responded to some other imagined question.

“Yes, but I want to know if it’s a safe car.” I asked again.

“Oh, you want to know the safety features. Well, the car seats are treated with stain repellent,” he replied enthusiastically.

If you spot me driving down Main Street blasting my stereo, please excuse me and refer to item number 4, or was it number 3, of my list. And when you prepare the following recipe make a mental note to yourself to remove the dish from the microwave.

Potatoes Boulangere
If you have leftovers, these make great home fries the next morning.
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
4 tablespoons beef broth
2 unpeeled large (1 1/2 pounds) russet potato, scrubbed well and cut into 1/4-inch-thick slices
2 medium onions, sliced thin
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

In a 2-cup glass measure, combine the butter and the broth and microwave the mixture at high power (100%) for 1 minute, or until the butter is melted. In a medium microwave-safe bowl or casserole arrange one third of the potato slices, drained, in one layer, top them with one third of the onion slices, and layer the remaining vegetable slices in the same manner. Pour the butter mixture over the potato mixture and sprinkle the top with the salt and pepper to taste. Microwave the mixture, three fourths covered with microwave-safe plastic wrap, at high power (100%) for 10 to 12 minutes, or until the potatoes are tender. Serves 4.

Down the Rabbit-Hole

I wonder if my parents felt the same sort of detachment from popular culture at that juncture in their lives as I now do.

I like to think of myself of fairly hip, but as I was watching TV the other night, everything seemed to be too loud and too fast for me.

Everyone is too wired, or actually wireless, to me. Cell phones, IPods, laptops. They’re talking about servers a lot in commercials, and they don’t mean waiters.
I have a computer, I surf the net, watch the news, listen to music, yet I feel somewhat out of step and disconnected to the mainstream.

Is this how my parents felt when rock ‘n roll took hold, and houses became homes to microwaves and cable television?

Recently, my daughter emailed and asked me to make a music CD for her. There wasn’t anyone on her list that I had heard of. The Ying Yang Twins, Gucci Mane, Pitbull, Bow Wow. If my daughter hadn’t told me these were singers, I would have thought her new interest was the Westminster Kennel Club.

Between the Christian far right, and Republican anti-everything (except oil and war), cell phones, and The Ying Yang Twins, I feel like a stranger in a strange land.
When I run into people I know, I find myself asking if they feel the same way. I’m looking for reassurance that the situation extends far wider than my itty bitty crcle.

Last night I shut the TV on a show that pretty much was a bunch of people yelling at each other. I sat down and opened up Alice in Wonderland. Maybe her story wasn’t a dream after all.

Alice’s Heart-Shape Cornmeal Biscuits
Perfect for that mad tea-party or picnic. No cell phones allowed.
1 1/4 cups flour
3/4 cup cornmeal
1/4 cup sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup butter
1 teaspoon finely shredded lemon peel
2/3 cup buttermilk or sour milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
Sugar and cornmeal for sprinkling

In a medium mixing bowl, stir together flour, the 3/4 cup cornmeal, the 1/4 cup sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Using a pastry blender, cut in butter until mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Add lemon peel. Make a well in the center of dry mixture; set aside. In a small mixing bowl, combine buttermilk and vanilla; add to dry mixture all at once. Using a fork, stir just until moistened.

Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Quickly knead by folding and pressing gently for 10 to 12 strokes or until dough is nearly smooth. Roll to 1/2-inch thickness. Cut dough with a floured 2-inch heart-shape biscuit or cookie cutter, dipping the cutter into flour between cuts.

Arrange biscuits so they are just touching on an ungreased baking sheet. Sprinkle with sugar and cornmeal. Bake in a 400° oven for 10 to 12 minutes or until golden brown. Remove from baking sheet; serve warm. Makes 12 to 15 biscuits.

Save the whales

Yesterday, I received an email asking for my help. Apparently, the world’s last undisturbed gray whale birthing ground in Mexico is being threatened by plans for industrialization, oil and gas drilling, and high-rise hotels.

Since the last presidential election, responsibility has been placed in my hands to save the Democratic Party, put Tom DeLay in jail, and save the Alaskan wildlife from, well, to put it mildly, ignorance.

Throw in stem cell research, social security, the tsunami in Indonesia, and nuclear proliferation and I am looking at many sleepless nights.

I get mail from John Kerry, Robert Kennedy, Jr., and Hilary Clinton. I have tried to explain to them that I am just one person and there is just so much I can do. But, the mail keeps coming.

As soon as one issue seems to get resolved, another one surfaces. I have tried writing to my congressman, but either he is unaware of any problems, or he just giggles at my concerns. He thinks a whale is a fish that goes well with chardonnay.

I’m beside myself with worry. Actually, if I were beside myself I would get twice as much done with half the amount of worrying.

I’m thinking of forwarding these calls for help to some of my friends. As my congressman says, we have to keep stem cells alive and nuclear proliferation going.

Jerk Chicken
For the marinade:
2 cups finely chopped scallion
2 Scotch bonnet or habañero chilies, seeded, and minced (wear rubber gloves)
2 tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
5 teaspoons ground allspice
3 teaspoons dry mustard
2 bay leaves, center ribs discarded and the leaves crumbled
2 garlic cloves, chopped
1 tablespoon salt
2 teaspoons sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons dried thyme, crumbled
1 teaspoon cinnamon

5 pounds chicken parts, the wing tips discarded
Vegetable oil for brushing the grill

Make the marinade: In a food processor or blender purée the scallion, 2 chilies, soy sauce, lime juice, allspice, dry mustard, bay leaves, garlic, salt, sugar, thyme, and cinnamon.

Divide the chicken parts between 2 heavy-duty resealable plastic bags and spoon the marinade over them, coating them well. Seal the bags, pressing out the excess air, and let the chicken marinate, chilled, turning the bags over several times, for at least 24 hours and up to 2 days.

On an oiled rack set 4 to 6 inches over glowing coals grill the chicken, in batches if necessary, and covered if possible, for 10 to 15 minutes on each side, or until it is cooked through. Transfer the chicken as it is cooked with tongs to a heated platter; keep it warm, covered loosely with foil. Serves 10.

The crisp and crumbling cruller

I don’t see what the fuss is about with Krispy Kreme doughnuts. To me, they are on a par with Wonderbread white bread: all fluff, no substance. (That’s good; I just killed two brand names in one paragraph. I should be hearing from them soon.)

If I’m going to go off my diet and indulge in something sweet to accompany my coffee, it’s going to be something more substantial. It’s going to be either a Danish or a cruller.

We all are familiar with Danishes; that luscious pastry filled with cheese, almonds, or fruit fillings. I’ll take cherry or prune, thank you.

Crullers are another story. I’ve seen them in various forms. Sometimes a cruller is a doughnut dough leavened with yeast or baking powder that’s shaped into a long twist, deep fried and sprinkled with sugar or glazed with a thin icing. The traditional French cruller, looks like a tractor-tire, is made from pate a choux, and is basically hollow.

I never feel that satisfied after eating a French cruller. However, the twisty doughnut cruller, when made well, is absolutely scrumptious.

The fried cake-like cruller has Dutch origins. Indeed, the word “cruller” comes from the Dutch krulle, meaning “twisted cake.” The Dutch brought them to NY and there is mention of them in 1818 in Washington Irving’s “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.” “The doughty dough-nut… the crisp and crumbling cruller.”

However, you will find cruller-like recipes in just about every ethnic cuisine, from Italian zeppole, to Mexican churros, to Chinese deep-fried devils.
A cruller by any name will taste as sweet.

Dutch Crullers
1 cup warm milk
1 package dry yeast
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more, as needed, divided use
1/4 cup melted butter
1 cup light brown sugar
2 eggs, well beaten
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg
1 (48-ounce) bottle, or more, vegetable oil for frying
Granulated sugar for sprinkling

In a medium bowl, sprinkle yeast over milk and let rest 5 minutes. Add salt, granulated sugar and 2 cups flour. Beat thoroughly. Cover and let rise until double in bulk, about 1 hour.

Stir down and add butter, brown sugar, eggs, nutmeg, and 1 cup flour. Beat well, cover, and let rise again until almost double in bulk.
Stir down again, and turn out onto lightly floured board, kneading in only enough flour so it handles easily. Let rest 10 minutes, then roll or pat out about 1/3 inch thick. Cut in 3/4-inch-wide, 8-inch-long strips. Let rise, uncovered, about 1 hour. Twist each strip several times and pinch ends.

Pour oil into deep-fat fryer or large, straight-sided saucepan to a depth of 2 to 3 inches. Heat oil to 375°. Line baking sheet or plate with paper towels.
Fry doughnuts, 4 at time, turning once, 2 to 3 minutes, or until golden brown. Using slotted spoon, transfer to paper towels to drain, and then place on wire rack to cool completely.

When doughnuts are cool, sprinkle with sugar. Makes about 3 dozen crullers.

This recipe does not use yeast, and therefore there is less “rising time.”
Fried Cruller Bows
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
3 tablespoons confectioners’ sugar
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 large whole egg
2 egg whites
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Vegetable oil for frying
Confectioners’ sugar ground cinnamon for sprinkling

Combine flour, 3 tablespoons confectioners’ sugar, and salt in a small bowl. Stir in whole egg, the egg whites, and vanilla extract with fork until mixture is crumbly.
Form dough into a ball; knead on lightly floured surface until smooth, about 5 minutes. Cover loosely; let stand about 30 minutes.

Heat 2 inches of oil to 375° in a large heavy saucepan. Roll dough on floured surface to a 12-inch square, about 1/8-inch thick. Cut into 12 (1-inch) strips; cut strips in half to form 24 (6x1-inch) strips. Tie each strip into a knot.

Fry knots in oil, a few at a time, 3 to 4 minutes or until golden. Drain on paper towels. Sprinkle with confectioners’ sugar and cinnamon. Serve warm. Makes 24 crullers.