Batter-Splattered

Peach and Blueberry Cobbler

Here's the dessert I mentioned in yesterday's post, a peach and blueberry cobbler, as pretty as it is toothsome:

I wish I would have thought of the word toothsome when I was trying to think up a name for this blog. What a great name for a food blog. Take it, if you want -- just be sure to send me a check for a million dollars. You don't hear it very often which is such a shame. I like the sound of it. It accurately reflects that sort of tastiness that makes you want to sink your teeth into something.

I got this recipe from that same old cookbook I've been sampling from lately. I'm SO GLAD I tried this because the biscuit topping is phenomenal. Better than anything else I've tasted in its class. You toss together the dry ingredients and make a well in the center, then whip up whipping cream until soft peaks form. Stir it into the dry ingredients with a fork just until a dough forms. The dough is so light and puffy and sweet. I saved alot of scraps for eating raw!

I would have eaten those peaches and berries just like that, spooned over some vanilla ice cream. Or maybe just with a big spoon.

Costco just started selling these big bags of frozen fruit that I'm really excited about. Only $8 and the bag is full of good-looking wedges of peaches, white peaches, plump blueberries, and rounds of honeydew melon... so good! You can pick your way through it and make yourself a helluva pie. I take a big bowl of it to work with me and spear fruit with a fork throughout the day at my desk.

I used peaches -- white and regular -- for this cobbler recipe along with a couple of handfuls of tart little blueberries I picked myself last summer. My supply in the freezer is rapidly dwindling so summer better hurry her ass up so I can pick some more.

This was good and oh so easy.

Peach and Blueberry Cobbler

Serves six

4 1/2 c peaches sliced into wedges (you can also use nectarines or apricots)

1 pint blueberries (you can also use blackberries or raspberries)

1/2 c sugar

1 T plus 1 t cornstarch

1/2 c water

1 T lemon juice

1 3/4 c all-purpose flour

3 T sugar

1 T baking powder

Pinch of salt

1 c heavy cream

Milk, for brushing

Sugar, for sprinkling

Vanilla ice cream or whipped cream, for serving

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

In a large saucepan, combine the fruit and berries, sugar, cornstarch, water, and lemon juice. Bring mixture to a boil, stirring constantly. Reduce heat and simmer for 5 minutes, or until fruit has softened. Transfer to a shallow baking dish and set aside.

In a large bowl, combine the dry ingredients and make a well in the center. Whip the cream until soft peaks form. Spoon cream into the well and mix with a fork just until a dough forms.

On a lightly floured surface, gently knead the dough several times. Roll or pat the dough to 3/4 inches thick. Cut with a biscuit or cookie cutter of your choice and arrange biscuits on top of the fruit, brush with milk, and sprinkle with sugar.

Bake cobbler for 15 minutes or so, until biscuits are golden and fruit is bubbling. Let cool slightly. Serve warm with ice cream or whipped cream.

Sicilian Rigatoni and Sausage

Oh my god, did we ever eat good last night!

First there was a recipe for sicilian rigatoni and sausage that took so long to simmer and cook, it got me to flipping through the cookbook for a dessert recipe to fill the time. More on that dessert in a later post.

Both recipes came from a new-old favorite cookbook I've been making tons of things from these days -- Queen of the Kitchen Cookbook by illustrator Mary Engelbreit. Everything I've tried has been so good that I had to flip to the back of the book to see if Mary herself was whipping up these concoctions.

Nope. But I can see why the recipes are good stuff -- the cooks are Lori Longbotham, a former food editor at Gourmet magazine, and Miriam Rubin, whose name sounds very familiar but I can't put my finger on why.

But back to that pasta. First, you put some hot italian sausages in a skillet, prick them with a fork, and let them sizzle slowly for 25 minutes or so till they're nicely browned.

The sight of a nicely browned sausage makes me even happier than slightly crispy, thick slices of bacon.

In the same skillet (don't be shy -- use those sausage drippings), you toss in a chopped bulb of fresh fennel, some shallots, a stalk of celery, and a couple of cloves of garlic. Then some tomatoes and fresh basil and parsley. Let it simmer for 45 minutes -- this doesn't go together quick, but it is easy and the results are wonderful. When I first glanced at the recipe, it looked like it would be speedy but oh no, good things take awhile sometimes. And hey, like I said, I got an unexpected and very tasty dessert out of the deal. In my kitchen, cooking boredom often leads to a baking solution for said boredom.

I love the way rigatoni noodles plump up big and fat when they're finished boiling. Here's the sauce after running it through a food processor:

My husband took one look at the simmering ingredients and said, "I don't think I'm gonna like that," (he hates tomatoes) and then he tried to sneak out of the kitchen carrying the plate of sausages behind his back. The dog was hoping he'd make it to the living room but I'm on to that man's tricks.

And as is so often the case, he was wrong because he polished off half a skillet of this pasta. That sauce was excellent and so fresh tasting. You can sprinkle it with the feathery fennel fronds. And speaking of leafy things, use a celery stalk with the leaves still attached if you can find such a thing -- it's getting harder and harder to find celery with the leaves still on! What's up with that? There's five different brands of celery at my grocery stores and they're all chopped off well below the leafy mark.

When it's ready to serve, sprinkle it with more cheese and garnish with the fennel fronds and sprigs of basil. I think this would be so pretty to serve to guests -- imagine bringing it to the table in a big old pasta bowl. You'd be sure to get some oo's and ah's.

Here's my version of the recipe:

Sicilian Rigatoni and Sausage

Serves 4 to 6

1/2 pound hot italian sausage (about three links)

2 T olive oil

1 fennel bulb, trimmed and finely chopped, feathery tops chopped and reserved

2 medium shallots or 1 onion, chopped

1 celery stalk with leaves, finely chopped

2 garlic cloves, sliced

5 medium tomatoes, chopped

1/4 c fresh basil, chopped, plus a few small sprigs for garnish

1/4 c fresh parsely, chopped

2 T tomato paste, divided

1/2 c chicken broth

1/4 heavy cream

Salt and pepper

1/2 pound rigatoni or other large tube-shaped pasta

3/4 c grated parmesan cheese, plus additional for sprinkling on top

Prick each sausage several times with a fork. In a large skillet, heat 1 tablespoon of oil over medium heat. Cook the sausage, turning often, for about 25 minutes, or until well browned and cooked through. Remove to a plate.

Add remaining tablespoon of oil to the same skillet and add the fennel, onion or shallots, celery, and garlic and cook, stirring frequently over medium-low heat for 20 minutes, or until vegetables are very soft and lightly browned.

Add the tomatoes, basil, parsley and one tablespoon of tomato paste. Season with salt and peper to taste and cook, stirring occasionally, for 45 minutes, adding a little broth if the sauce gets too thick.

Put a large pot of salted water on to boil.

Press the sauce through a food mill set over a large saucepan, or in the alternative, blend it in a food processor or blender to your desired smoothness (I like mine a little chunky), then return it to the skillet (I like the idea of using one pan rather than dirtying up another one). Cut sausage into 1/4-inch slices and add to the sauce. Stir in the cream, the other tablespoon of tomato paste, and the rest of the broth if you still have some left. Cook over medium heat, stirring for 5 minutes, or until sauce is heated through.

Cook pasta until al dente. Drain. Toss the pasta and parmesan with the sauce in the skillet, or in a large serving bowl. Sprinkle with fennel fronds and garnish with basil sprigs. Serve alongside additional parmesan.

Pineapple Upside Down Cake

I found this vintage metal cake carrier at a thrift store a couple of weeks ago and ever since I've been positively itching to take a cake somewhere. Anywhere.

ITCHING to take a cake, I tell you. I was even wishing I had church to go to on Sunday just so I could take a cake for my fellow church-goers to enjoy (that urge passed).

Have cake, will travel.

Luckily, one of my co-workers up and quit and we threw her a going-away potluck yesterday! YAY, she's leaving, I can bring a cake! ... or something a little more sensitive and sorrowful.

The cake carrier was quite the conversation piece at the potluck. I'd hear people saying things like, "Reminds me of something my grandma would have!" It's not the first time someone's accused me of having the taste of a granny. I embrace it -- grannies lived in times of very good design.

I'd also hear: "Groovy!"

And: "Classy!"

People were even taking bets on when it was made. The 1940's? '50's? 60's? It has West Bend, Made in the USA etched on the bottom, but no date. There's also quite a few dents in it. I hope there wasn't a cake inside when they dropped it! I didn't mind the dents though -- I have a few dents and scratches in me too.

I suspected it was made in the 1970's (just like me), what with the harvest gold color and all. Sure enough, I found some more on ebay in avocado green. Mrs. Brady would have carried one just like this, with a cake baked by Alice inside.

You can get your own cake carrier right here on ebay. If that link has expired, as ebay links are bound to do, run a search on "west bend cake" and some should pop right up. I have my eye on a set of matching canisters for holding flour, sugar, tea, and coffee. The black knob on top is bakelite -- pretty cool.

And with all this talk about cake, why don't we talk about the real deal? I just baked a pineapple upside-down cake! But not for the potluck -- the potluck cake was chocolate-chocolate with strawberries on top.

This afternoon, it was all about the pineapples:

I've only ever made pineapple upside-down cakes in a Lodge cast iron skillet.  This one was made in a regular old 9-inch cake pan. I think I like it -- the non-stick coating released the cake easily and without a hitch when I turned it out onto a plate.

Come to think of it, I've only ever made this cake once or twice. Canned fruit isn't exactly my favorite thing and I wouldn't even go near a pineapple when I was little. It's the sugary sweetness. It's not my thing.

But I do enjoy an upside-down cake from time to time at this particular juncture of my life. I got the recipe from the same cookbook I got my zucchini bread recipe from, Mary Englebreit's Queen of the Kitchen Cookbook. Ever since I pulled it off the shelf and dusted it off, I've been flipping through it and marking one recipe after another to try out. 

My husband loves himself a pineapple upside-down cake. LOVES. So his eyes lit up when he learned I was making one. Once I'd fished seven perfect little pineapple rings out of the can, he polished off what was left, juice and all. Knocked it back in a few seconds flat.

I messed up right away when I was making this and I blame the person who wrote the recipe. In the ingredients list, it says a stick of butter. And what I didn't notice was that the butter is divided in the recipe instructions -- a half a stick at the beginning, a half a stick at the end. So I ended up putting an entire stick into the gooey syrup that you pour into the cake pan first. And so it didn't turn out too syrupy. It was good. Just not thick and sticky and syrupy.

For the love of god, recipe writers, if an ingredient is divided in the recipe, say so right there in the ingredients list. One stick of butter, divided. Gimme me a heads-up. 

I fixed it for you, dear reader, in the recipe as written below.

You're welcome.

I also didn't use the dark brown sugar called for in the recipe because I didn't feel like buying more brown sugar even though it was only $1.50 at the store because I already had plenty of light brown sugar at home. I'm like that.

We had this right out of the oven with a little whipped cream. So good. Oh, and a little something I liked about the ingredients is that they call for a pinch of pepper along with spices such as cinnamon, ginger and nutmeg -- I thought that was a nice touch.

Pineapple Upside-Down Cake

Makes one nine inch cake

1/2 c (one stick) butter, divided

1/2 c packed dark brown sugar

8 slices canned pineapple (20 oz. can)

1 1/4 c all purpose flour

3/4 c sugar

2 t baking powder

1/4 t cinnamon

1/4 t nutmeg

1/4 t ginger

1/4 t salt

Pinch of finely ground pepper

1/2 c milk

1 egg

1 1/2 t vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

In a small saucepan, melt 1/4 cup (half a stick! not the whole stick -- save the rest for later) of butter over low heat. Remove from heat and stir in brown sugar until well mixed. Spread the butter-sugar mixture evenly in the bottom of a 9-inch cake pan. Place a pineapple ring in the center of the pan on top of the butter-sugar mixture, then arrange more pineapple rings in a circle around the center one.

In a bowl, combine the dry ingredients.

In a small saucepan, melt the remaining half a stick of butter. Pour the milk into the bowl of an electric mixer. Add the melted butter, egg, and vanilla and mix well. Add the dry ingredients and mix just until combined. Scrape batter gently over pineapple rings and gently smooth the top with a rubber spatula.

Bake for 30 to 35 minutes until golden brown and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.

Let the cake cool on a wire rack for 5 minutes. Invert the cake onto a serving plate and let stand for 1 minute before lifting the cake pan (mine popped right out). Serve warm or at room temperature.

Genius that I am... (zucchini with everything bread)

Genius that I am, it just wouldn't sink in that my oven was broken. Kaput. What's a girl with a food blog to do with a rotten piece of luck like that? And to add insult to injury, it broke the day of the Great Alaskan Clean-Out-Your-Freezer Potluck.

It's a gas oven and there was no spark and there was no gas. Everyone at the potluck who knew the slightest thing about ovens gladly got down on their hands and knees to take the oven's bits apart piece by piece, blow on them, shake them around a little, poke here, poke there, there was even some clunk clunk clunking, before saying definitively, "HUH!"

Very disappointing. And because tax time is fast approaching (wait, what's the date today?) as well as a weeklong vacation to Portland, I was very reluctant to call a repairman. I know how much Uncle Same wants, the bastard, but who knows how much money a freaking appliance repairman would take me for.

Luckily, the husband recently bought a camper to take overnight fishing (more on that later) and he was more than happy to fire up its little oven, running back and forth, baking things left and right. It seemed to make him feel downright useful and so smart for buying that camper when he did for such a scream of a deal.

But like I said, it just wouldn't sink in that the oven was broken. I'd be sitting at work dreaming up what we would have for dinner that night... roast vegetables, roasted fish, maybe a cake... oh wait a minute, the oven's broken! Scratch all that.

I'd do the same thing at the market. Hungering for a pizza, I'd remember the oven was broken and the very next moment, I'd be gathering the goods to make a calzone.

Not until I got home and reached to fire up the oven would I remember... DAMN IT.

It's like during a power outage when it just doesn't click that there is no light, anywhere, and no you can't open the refrigerator door and read by that light either.

This went on for a week or so. I even hauled the crockpot out and dusted it off and told it to get ready to work. Then on Sunday I was firing up the stovetop (thank god that still worked) and I decided just for the hell of it to turn the oven on too. I promptly forgot I'd done so. Then a few minutes later the little beep went off, signaling the oven was all preheated for me.

Yeah right, I thought. Oh oven, don't be cruel.

But then I opened the door and what do you think happened? A blast of very hot air came rushing out. It even blew my hair back a little, that gush of heat.

It fixed itself!

It's unprecedented.

You can bet I raised both arms in the air and shook my V for Victory fingers. And spun around a few times. Oh yes, there was spinning. Lots of spinning.

Which brings me to last night's dinner.  Some nights you want an honest-to-god dinner with all four food groups represented. But other nights, all you want is a little something un-dinner-like. Scrambled eggs maybe. Ice cream perhaps.

I rummaged around in the fridge and came out with two zucchinis and a lemon, remnants from a CSA box. I leafed through a few cookbooks until I found a recipe that was just right.

I have this cookbook I bought years ago in the bargain books section at Borders. Mary Englebreit's Queen of the Kitchen Cookbook. I don't turn to it all that often (my cookbooks are sadly neglected because I get most of my recipes from my best friend, the Interweb) but everything I've made from it is really top-notch. The index lists things like Best-Ever Devil's Food Cake, Diner-Style Meatloaf, Filet MIgnon with Wild Mushrooms, Lemon and Chive Salmon Cakes, Farmhouse Walnut Pie, the list goes on and on. Pretty pictures. Good recipes. Mm. Mm. Mm.

Mary calls this zucchini-lemon quick bread. I decided to call it zucchini with everything bread because it really does have a little something for everyone -- lemon zest and juice, craisins, almonds (although I used walnuts), and of course, zucchini. The top of the bread turns out crunchy and candy-like. Inside, it's all soft and moist and bursting with flavor.

For dinner that night, I had a couple of slices of this and a couple of shots of good whiskey. I had the house to myself and could indulge myself with this rather unorthodox but totally delicious dinner.

I'll be making this again real soon.

Zucchini with Everything Bread

Makes one loaf

1 1/2 c flour

2 t baking powder

1/2 t baking soda

1 t cinnamon

1/4 t allspice

1/4 t nutmeg

1/4 t salt

3/4 c sugar

6 T unsalted butter, melted and cooled

2 large eggs

2 T grated lemon zest

1/4 c fresh lemon juice (about 1 large lemon)

1 t vanilla

2 c grated zucchini

1 cup chopped nut -- walnuts, blanched almonds, etc.

1/2 c dried cranberries or golden raisins

Melt your 6 T of butter and set aside to cool. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9 x 5 inch loaf pan.

In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg and salt.

In a large bowl, beat sugar, melted butter, eggs, lemon zest and juice, and vanilla with an electric mixer until well blended. With a rubber spatula or a wooden spoon, stir in the zucchini. Add the flour mixture and stir until blended. Fold in the nuts and cranberries. Scrape the batter into the prepared pan, smoothing the top with a rubber spatula.

Bake for about 1 hour, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Let bread cool in pan for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack and let cool completely. Cut into 1/2-inch thick slices and serve.

Snickerdoodles

Recipe No. 14 from my collection of favorites for this fourteenth day of November and Nablopomo.

This is an excellent recipe for snickerdoodles. Sugary and cinnamony, sweet and crispy on the outside. Soft on the inside. Best right out of the oven. But also good the next day if you zap a cookie for 10 seconds in the microwave. Last night I decided they're especially good alongside a shot of whiskey. My husband thoughtfully declared them his favorite cookie. Then he thought about it for awhile and added, "Well, along with those molasses ones you make. And..." I got the recipe from one of my favorite old cookbooks, Heartland.

I took these to a potluck at work once and just before placing the basket o' cookies on the table, I warmed them just a little. One guy was moving shark-like around the table, eyeing up all the dishes, plotting with his plan of attack, and he absent-mindedly grabbed one of these cookies, a little something to munch on while he decided whether to go for the smoked turkey first or that petite crockpot full of L'il Smokies (I like the ad at the Hillshire Farms website -- Go Meat! -- with the cheerleaders chanting, "When conversation's going south! Pop a Li'l Smoky in your mouth!" Finally, an answer to my social anxiety and fear and loathing of parties -- tiny sausages soaking in bbq sauce.) Potluck Man took one bite of that snickerdoodle, stopped dead in his tracks, lifted the cookie up to the crowd, his brow furrowed with emotion, and said worshipfully through a mouthful of snickerdoodle, "Oh God. These are still warm!"

They're that good.

Snickerdoodles

1 c shortening, margarine or butter (I usually make these with crisco -- I don't think I've tried butter or margarine)

1 3/4 c sugar

2 eggs

2 3/4 c all-purpose flour

2 t cream of tartar

1 t baking soda

1/2 t salt

4 t cinnamon

In a large mixing bowl, cream together the shortening and 1 1/2 c sugar (reserve the remaining 1/4 c of sugar for later). In a separate bowl, mix together the flour, cream of tartar, baking soda and salt. Gradually add to the creamed mixture. You can chill the dough overnight as the original instructions instruct, but who has time for that?

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Combine remaining 1/4 c sugar and the cinnamon in a flat bowl. Shape dough into balls the size of a walnut and roll in cinnamon sugar. Place 2 inches apart of an ungreased baking sheet and bake just until barely golden -- about 8 minutes. The cookies will puff up first, then flatten a bit with crackled tops. Cool on a wire rack.

Smothered Chicken -- a reason to exercise

As I was telling one of my readers Val the other day in my comments section (if ever there was a person who needs a blog, it's Val -- she's a hoot. Hey Val!), I will gladly hike miles uphill if it means I can come home and indulge in delicious food without doubling my size.

The other day that's exactly what I did (hiking, not doubling). And I did it all for a heaping bowl of Smothered Chicken. Here are scenes from my hike which, as you will see, was hardly a chore when surrounded by so much beauty:

A word to the wise: if you ever get a chance to eat one of these, DON'T DO IT:

They're soapberries (at least I think they are) and my berry book says they're edible 'but not preferred.' Whatever could they mean by 'not preferred,' I wondered to myself. So, ever the adventurous eater, I popped one in my mouth. Big mistake. They tasted like a combination of stink bug and soap. I couldn't spit it out fast enough. But aren't they pretty?

Juniper berries:

Eklutna Lake in all it's glacier-y glory:

Highbush cranberries:

We also found a fully-loaded bush of late-season red currants. They were ice-cold and their juice was a bit slushy with frostiness. We scarfed down handfuls of them. So GOOD.

See the sun's rays filtering lightly through the thin clouds?:

It was absolutely gorgeous that day. And we hiked up and up and up. I slept really well that night and my legs ached for days afterward.

But now, enough about me and my hike. How about that smothered chicken...

Smothered Chicken is the second recipe I've tried out of my new favorite library cookbook, Back to the Table by Art Smith. Art calls this dish 'an icon of Southern cooking... it is the perfect comfort food.'

I would agree with him on that. It was wonderful to come home to these leftovers after that hike.

There's chicken, turkey sausage, a brothy sauce, and you can serve it over rice or mashed potatoes. It's an excellent choice for this time of year. Hearty and warming and wholesome. I made the recipe as written with a whole chicken cut into parts, just for the sake of accuracy. Next time, I'm going to use boneless, skinless thighs as I'm somewhat averse to picking meat off bones -- I'm funny that way.

Here's the recipe:

Smothered Chicken

Serves four

5 T vegetable oil

Four-pound chicken, cut into 8 pieces, skin removed

Salt and freshly ground pepper

1/3 c all-pupose flour

3 fresh turkey sausages, casings removed (8 oz.)

1 medium onion, finely chopped

1 celery stalk, finely chopped

1 small green bell pepper, seeded and chopped

2 c chicken broth

1 medium tomato, seeded and chopped

Chopped fresh parsley for garnish

Cooked white rice or mashed potatoes on the side

Heat oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat until very hot. Season chicken with salt and pepper. Place flour in a shallow bowl and roll chicken in flour to coat, shaking off any excess. Reserve 2 tablespoons of the flour for later. In batches, cook the chicken, turning occasionally, until browned on all sides, about 8 minutes. Transfer to a plate.

Pour off all but 2 tablespoons of fat in the skillet. Add onion, celery, and bell pepper to the skillet. Cook, stirring often, until the vegetables are browned, about 8 minutes. Sprinkle with the reserved flour, mix well, and cook until the flour is browned, about 2 minutes. Gradually whisk in the broth, and return the chicken and sausage to the skillet. Bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to low and cover. Simmer, stirring occasionally, until the chicken shows no sign of pink when pierced in the thickest part, about 40 minutes. During the last 5 minutes, sprinkle the tomato on top.

Transfer the chicken to a deep platter. Skim the fat off the surface of the sauce and season with salt and pepper to taste. At this point, I stirred in a couple more tablespoons of flour to make the sauce more like a gravy. Pour sauce over chicken and sprinkle with parsley.

Serve with rice or mashed potatoes.