Why I Cook and a New Cookbook

I know that many of you are warriors in your own kitchen.  You experiment, you play, you conquer.  You are the ones who can't wait to cook with new ingredients, use new techniques.  You are always excited to try a new recipe, and you are as thrilled by your friends' culinary successes as you are with your own.  After all, they will surely share the recipe (as well as the food) with you.  But there are also people who don't understand.  Some of them are afraid -- they feel unsure of their abilities in the kitchen.  Some of them don't feel like they have the time.  Some of them don't really want to.  Some just prefer the convenience of store-bought foods.  After all, why wait four hours for ice-cream when you can go get it now?  

That being said, I would like to tell you why I cook.  Hopefully, it will encourage you if you have lost your inspiration, or have been too afraid to try.  Maybe I can help you overcome your fear of that candy thermometer.  Maybe it will just give you some insight into me.  There are always the basic reasons: it tastes better, it (often) costs less, you can control the ingredients that go into your food.  But there are deeper reasons, the ones that move the making of food from a hobby to something that is…part of me.  

The first of these reasons is that I take pride in the quality of food I feed my family and friends.  It's not just about tasting good, it's about knowing that I took the time to choose quality ingredients.  It's about knowing that I put my self into that food.  It's about knowing that I am serving them food that will nourish their bodies as well as their spirits.  Food is a powerful thing because it can trigger emotions, it can comfort us, and the flavors we eat are tied to our memories.  So I sincerely hope that the food I feed my family and friends is food that fills their bellies, comforts them, and reminds them of good times.

I also enjoy the artistry.  Creativity comes in a plethora of forms with the use of a variety of media, including pencils, paint, clay, cloth, and yes, even food.  The artistry inherent in a perfectly risen loaf of bread or in the flakiness of the crust of a summer peach pie is just as satisfying as the creation of an exquisite painting -- at least to the artist.  Edible art is not to be ignored, and for those of us who cook with the passion of a creative spirit, we are all artists and food is our medium.  I hope you never once doubt the creativity of your culinary expeditions.  I promise that I won't.

 And finally, knowing I can make something like bread or yogurt is freeing.  Let me explain: as much as there is a great convenience to purchasing food items in the store, this convenience also manages to inhibit you.  It renders you dependent on a store (that may have just run out of the item you really needed), and it leaves you with no backup plan.  Now there is absolutely nothing wrong with purchasing the items in your pantry.  But there is something so liberating and exciting about knowing that YOU made those items yourself.  I don't have to worry about whether or not the grocery store ran out of yogurt because I know how to make it from scratch.  Knowing that the bags of granola, loaves of bread, cheese, and jars of jam in my kitchen were all made right here in my kitchen makes me feel invincible.  I could make anything.  It also ties me to the roots of people who have made these things at home for generations.  It gives me this feeling that I have not forgotten that history, and that I am in fact part of it.

Which now brings me to that new book.  I stumbled across a fantastic new cookbook, by Alana Chernila, called The Homemade Pantry: 101 Foods You Can Stop Buying and Start Making.  Now I don't often buy cookbooks, because I don't have the space.  But I couldn't resist with this one.  Alana makes home cooking accessible in a fantastically approachable way.  She also encourages her readers to branch out and make things at home that they would never usually consider.  Homemade ketchup anyone?  You may have heard of Alana before.  She writes a lovely blog called Eating From the Ground Up, where she writes about food, family, and all the stuff in between.    

What I really love about Alana's new book is that she shares her self in it.  It's full of stories about her family, stories about her recipes, and she manages to become your friend after a very short introduction.  For those of you who are afraid of anything shy of boiling water, or even if you are a seasoned cook who just needs a little inspiration or a little push to try something new, this is your book.  Alana will take you on a ride, encouraging you to try projects that are as simple as making pudding or as complex as making cheeses, or canning your own produce.  I find that there is something for every cook between those pages, and I am really looking forward to trying all of her recipes.  I hope you will, too. 

Lavender Vanilla Pudding

I'm pretty sure the last time I ate any food that whispered of a gelatenous quality was when I was six years old at a birthday party and one of the desserts was red Jell-O.  While I was admiring the ruby red color and jiggleability (it's a word) of the cube on my plate, one of the other party-goers took great pleasure in informing the table that Jell-O was made from cow and horse hooves.  Being a rather mature seven-year-old (and thus my senior), she also felt the need to tell us that they take the cow and horse hooves from the animals when they are still alive.  And being a wee bit gullible at six, I believed her.  Needless to say, that was the end of my Jell-O-eating childhood.

Unfortunately for my mother, my logic had always been supported by texture rather than fact, and so I rarely touched any other food with similar traits.  But now being nostalgic (and a fair bit less gullible then my six-year-old self), I have been toying recently with the idea of home-made puddings.  After all, they are NOT Jell-O (I still won't eat it...even to this day.  I guess nostalgia only takes you so far).  But pudding seemed like a worthy cause.  I will admit - the boxed varieties of pudding still frighten me with their bizarre colors and strange "flavors" (since when is blueberry flavor derived by anything but blueberries?).  And so I set out to try making my own.

After all, if it's homemade, then at least I know what the pudding is made of.  And it just so happens that I found a girl after my own heart.  She loves making everything from scratch.  No out-of-the-box pudding in her house.  And she just so happened to have a vanilla pudding that was begging to be made.  But it was lacking something.  Don't get me wrong - I am a vanilla girl through and through.  It's just that there is a lovely bunch of lavender growing outside my door, and it is so much fun to be able to actually use what you grow.  And it just so happens that honey-lavender ice cream is my absolute favorite.  And pudding is kind of like ice-cream, right?

Lavender Vanilla Pudding
Adapted from The Homemade Pantry
serves 8

4 cups of milk (either whole milk or 2%)
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
5-6 sprigs of lavender (preferably organic)
1/2 cup cornstarch
1/2 teaspoon vanilla

In a heavy-botomed saucepan, heat 3 cups of milk, sugar, salt, and lavender sprigs on medium-low heat.  Stir frequently.

In the meantime, mix the remaining 1 cup of cold milk with the cornstarch, whisking until there are no lumps.  When the heated mixture begins to steam, remove the lavender sprigs, pressing any remaining moisture out of them into the pot before discarding.  Add the milk-cornstarch mixture and stir constantly, increasing the heat to medium-high.  Cook the mixture until it begins to bubble, and turn it down to low, stirring constantly until it begins to thicken and will coat the back of a spoon, 5-7 minutes.    Remove mixture from heat and whisk in vanilla.

Pour pudding mixture into individual serving dishes (or into one large dish) and allow to cool in the fridge for at least two hours before serving.  The pudding will set as it cools.  Garnish with lavender blossoms and a drizzle of honey before serving.

David Leite's Chocolate Chip Cookies

I have a confession to make.  While most people's baking Everest is a souffle, or a loaf of ciabatta, or that perfectly seared piece of tuna, my baking Everest is the Chocolate Chip Cookie.  Yup, you heard that right.  It's not to say that I haven't made them before.  In fact, I've baked dozens hundreds of chocolate chip cookies in my life.  It's the fact that every time I bake a batch, it leaves me feeling like there's room for improvement.  That one came out too dry, that other one...not chewy enough.  That last batch?  The chocolate-to-cookie ratio was wrong.  And don't forget the batch with the truly forgettable cookie flavor.

I have tweaked the original Tollhouse recipe mercilessly, and I have liked some variations better than others.  I have melted, softened, and beaten butter.  I have altered egg yolk to egg white ratios.  I have tweaked the brown and white sugar ratios.  I have even tried different types of chocolate.  And while some of these cookies have been undeniably delicious, I have still felt like I haven't found "the one".  So any time I stumble across a promising recipe, I feel obligated to try it.  I swear.  I could be looking for a recipe for stir-fried vegetables, and oops, look, there's a chocolate chip cookie recipe.  Well, of course it has to be made right now!

And in this quest, I have tried many a recipe that claims to have "figured it all out" and has finally mastered this oh-so-elusive perfection in a cookie.  And undeniably, I have been disappointed.  Now don't get me wrong - many of these recipes are fabulous.  They are just missing...something.  So when I stumbled across the 2008 New York Times recipe, I figured I would give it a try.

I had no idea that there were others, just like me, on a quest to perfect the chocolate chip cookie.  But David Leite convinced me of that as I read this article that went on for three pages about how he interviewed great bakers and gathered there secrets together to develop the very best chocolate chip cookie.  Now, I have to say this recipe is significantly more pretentious than I think a chocolate chip cookie should be.  I mean, there are two types of flour for goodness sake.  That being said, I had to try.  After all, the path to the top of Everest is strewn with challenges and wrong turns.

So with a culinary patience that I normally only reserve for the very best of bread doughs, I made this cookie dough and let it sit.  In the fridge.  For THIRTY-SIX hours.  Sigh.  And the result?  As close to perfection as I have ever come in a cookie.  They were crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, with a chewy, caramel-like middle.  They tasted amazing just out of the oven, but also tasted amazing the next day.  These cookies take a significant amount of patience, but if you have the time, they are completely worth it.

Chocolate Chip Cookies
Adapted from David Leite via the New York Times

Note on Chocolate: the original recipe called for 1 1/4 pounds of bittersweet chocolate discs.  I personally prefer less chocolate than that and only added a 1/2 pound (8 ounces), although I could see increasing that to 12 ounces.  I also prefer semisweet chocolate to bittersweet chocolate, and chose bars (chopped) rather than discs of chocolate.

2 cups minus 2 tablespoons (8 1/2 ounces) cake flour

1 2/3 cups (8 1/2 ounces) bread flour

1 1/4 teaspoons baking soda

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1 1/2 teaspoons coarse salt

2 1/2 sticks (1 1/4 cups) unsalted butter

1 1/4 cups light brown sugar

1 cup granulated sugar

2 large eggs

1 tablespoon vanilla extract

1/2  or up to 1 1/4 pounds bittersweet chocolate disks or fèves, at least 60 percent cacao content (see note)

Sea salt

Sift flours, baking soda, baking powder and salt into a bowl. Set aside. Using a mixer fitted with paddle attachment, cream butter and sugars together until light in color, about 5 minutes. Add eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Stir in the vanilla. Reduce speed to low, add dry ingredients and mix until just combined, 5 to 10 seconds. Drop chocolate pieces in and incorporate them without breaking them. Press plastic wrap against dough and refrigerate for 36 hours. Dough may be used in batches, and can be refrigerated for up to 72 hours.

When ready to bake, preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a nonstick baking mat. Set aside. Scoop 6 3 1/2-ounce mounds of dough (the size of generous golf balls) onto baking sheet, making sure to turn horizontally any chocolate pieces that are poking up. Sprinkle lightly with sea salt and bake until golden brown but still soft, 18 to 20 minutes. Transfer sheet to a wire rack for 10 minutes, then slip cookies onto another rack to cool a bit more. Repeat with remaining dough, or reserve dough, refrigerated, for baking remaining batches the next day. Eat warm.

Yield: 1 1/2 dozen 5-inch cookies.