Fairy Godmother Xmas Cookies

Dear Mouse, 

MerryandHappyAfterChrismukkahAndBoxingDayAndAlmost2013! 

(deep breath)

Christmas Eve in Princeton NJ, just before community carol singing. 

What a good time! I once again spent a dreamy Xmas Eve with the BFF Fam in NJ and then hightailed it back to NYC for  Maybe one of the Best Xmas Day Feasts Yet. This one deserves special mention because it was the first Mouse House-Hosted one and went swimmingly. I was very happy to be one of three Supporting Player Apartment Kitchens contributing to the We-All-Live-In-The-Same-Building Yellow-Submarine-Style Holiday meal. I would say Honorable Mentions go to Your Husband's intoxicating and fragrant three-days-in-the-making Pernil and to the Mother's wonderfully juicy despite-broken-oven-and-emergency-relocation-while-cooking Turkey. 

But since we both agree that maybe we're kind of maxed out on the Full-Meal-Photo-Recap of Big Holiday Meals, I'll stop there and focus in, as you requested, on one particular treat. 

No, not that. 

(My Xmas Present from the BFF's 3-year old, approved by Mama and requested from shopkeeper as "for my fairy godmother (!!) who is very sparkly". (OMG))

No, not that either. 

( But isn't that cool? This was in my tip jar at the "Christmas Eve Eve" gig. A good omen!)

Getting Closer...

(BFF child in question. Now, imagine a dessert version of this image...)

 ... you got it!

("Peppermint Cream Squares", courtesy of thekitchn.com, a first-time recipe Chez Boo.)

Yes, Mouse, if I learned anything in 2012 it's that I know an exciting dessert when I read one. If a recipe leaps off the page at me, inspiring curiosity and wonder and demanding special mail-order ingredients, well then Amazon here I come and I probably won't regret it. 

Everyone liked these, skeptics and sweet tooths alike. They are a perfect xmas confection: cool with peppermint, festively colored pink and white, rich with shortbread crust and a salty-creamy-sweet cream cheese-powdered sugar-crushed mint filling. It's basically 'The Nutcracker' in a baking pan.

The recipe says that for those who like "a strong mint flavor", peppermint extract may be added to taste, 1/4 tsp at a time. I am happy to say that I resisted this temptation (I'm often a "strong flavor" girl), and  followed Ina Garten's advice to always make a recipe strictly to the letter the very first time. Having tasted these I now think that to add more mint would take it from delicious white-christmas treat to something more along the lines of Crest White Strips. Not as tasty.

I used Bob's Sweet Stripes Soft Mint Candies, as the recipe suggests. One bag made two batches of cookies with some mints left over. I did run them through the cuisinart, though I also tested out the hammer method and that's pretty fun.  I recommend doing this the day before, or maybe just first to get it out of the way.

I also do have parchment paper on hand for these occasions and this recipe needs it.

You make a shortbread crust which is super easy as it involves no kneading or rolling out, just mushing it into a pan with your hands. I didn't have an 8X8 pan so I just used my 9x13 pyrex and pressed the dough into a square leaving some empty pan space. It worked - the dough held its shape and the filling didn't run over much. You chill 1/2 C of the dough while the rest goes in the oven.

While it's baking, you whisk the filling:

                                Powdered mints, confectioner's sugar, cream cheese, and milk.

 The shortbread comes out when it's half done and cools for 10 min. Then you pour the filling on and spread it around. Some reserved, chilled dough is grated over the top with a cheese grater (or just crumble it, but it looks nice this way.)

It bakes again, cools again, and you finish it with more peppermint/sugar powder while it's still warm. Cool it comPLETEly before lifting out and cutting into squares. 

Perhaps a new holiday staple, and I thought we had those down. Just goes to show, plus ca change, plus cookie recipes to be discovered. I'm pasting the recipe below and will bring some by later. God Bless Us, Every One!

Love,

The Boo


The Kitchn's "Peppermint Cream Squares"

For the shortbread:
1 C butter, softened (I used kerrygold unsalted and cut it into pieces for faster softening)
1/2 C powdered sugar
1/2 tsp salt
2 C all-purpose flour

For the filling:

30 soft mint * candies  
1 C powdered sugar, divided
1/4 C cream cheese (i'd let this soften a bit too)
2 tbsp whole milk
Peppermint extract (optional) (but try without)

* must be SOFT not the hard peppermints you're thinking of, or they will wreck your food processor. Think the mints from old-fashioned restaurants that kind of dissolve in your mouth. Or just order Bob's.

Heat oven to 350.
Line 8x8 baking dish w parchment paper so that ends hang over sides (see link above for picture). Coat parchment and exposed parts of pan with nonstick cooking spray.

Make shortbread: beat butter until creamy. Scrape down sides of bowl and add sugar. Beat again til light and fluffy like frosting. On low speed beat in flour and salt until dough comes together/no more flour visible. 

Scoop out 1/2 C of the dough and refrigerate in covered container.

Scrape remaining dough into baking dish. Press the dough flat with buttered hands, pushing into corners and smoothing the top. Bake 20-25 min until dough is turning golden at edges. Remove from oven and cool for 10 min.

While dough bakes,make the filling. Put soft mint candies in the food processor and pulse until they have broken down into powder with pieces no larger than rock salt. (again, I recommend doing this ahead). This "will make an enormous racket". (Alternatively, you can put them in a sealed bag and smash with a hammer, which is fun.)

Mix powdered candies with 1/2C of powdered sugar and set aside.

In a separate bowl, whisk together the cream cheese and milk. Add the remaining 1/2 C powdered sugar and 3/4C of powdered candy mixture to the cream cheese. Whisk to form a thick paste. Taste and add extract in increments if you'd like a stronger flavor. (Like I said, don't do this.)

When shortbread is cooled but still warm, pour peppermint cream mixture over it and smooth into corners. Remove reserved shortbread dough from fridge and grate or crumble it over the peppermint cream layer.

Bake for another 10-13 minutes until edges are just starting to bubble. The crumbled dough on top will remain pretty light-colored. 

Remove from oven and let bars cool in pan 15 minutes. Sprinkle a few tablespoons of peppermint powder/sugar over the top while bars are still warm. 

Let bars cool completely,  then lift from the pan (by edges of parchment) and cut into squares. 

 

The Chicken at the End of the World

Dear Mouse, 

Happy Winter!

Xmas Tree on the porch of The Porches Inn, North Adams, MA

 It's 12:01 AM on 12/22/12, which means the Winter Solstice has passed, and we are all still alive, praise {Insert Mayan Deity Here}. You, A-Mac and MD have just left my place after our annual Solstice Dinner, which means I have been consuming wine since early 12/21/12. As such, I'll try to keep this short, sweet, and coherent.

I've been back in NYC for twelve days now since A-Mac and I returned from a two-week gig up in the Berkshires that was, on several levels, the stuff that dreams are made on. 

                                      Even though we had to wear our own faces all the time. 

(My) first snow of the year!! glimpsed from hotel window

Just another day at the office

                               Sabine, the Porches Inn Cat, stares at the fire. (There's a fireplace.)

I'm well aware that a lot is going on in our world at the moment. Certainly there's been enough new things to blog about in the time since I returned from AvantShangriLuminatiCamp. And I'm aware that if I AM going to yammer on about My Winter Vacation in the hills I could at least talk about the incredible Museum where we worked, the beautiful and challenging piece we were there to rehearse, the Dream Team Playwright/Director/Composer triumverate I have only dreamed of, or at least the memorable acoustic gig I played in a local sports bar/restaurant, singing in front of a popcorn machine between two flat screen TVs. These are all important.

But all I really want to talk about ...

... is breakfast.

So, you fill out the little card and hang it on your door at night...

... and in the morning, this happens.

(L to R (basically): chocolate croissant, juice glass, adorable silver 'lunchbox', black mug, grapefruit juice, half-and-half, coffee thermos, NY Times.)

Yes, the Porches Inn in North Adams, where we were housed for this gig, is a pretty stellar joint. It has a lot going for it : rural charm, proximity to famous museum, fireplace, 24-hour outdoor hot tub. But the feature which has ruined me for all Actor Housing going forward is

 - three words -

 Complimentary. In-room. Breakfast. 

Let's see it again, shall we?

I mean, if you can imagine a more Boo-Friendly amenity I'd like to hear it. 

You choose coffee or tea, type of juice, type of pastry, type of milk!!, and either local news or NY Times. Oh, and when I requested fruit instead of pastry? I got it. Apple & orange. I mean I still can't get over this . I really can't. 

I figured, well, I'll do that for the first few mornings. You know, until I get sick of it. 

(I never got sick of it. Oh, yeah, and all our meals were catered. And ... scene.)

But nothing gold can stay, and so it was that we finished the project with tears, laughter, harmony, weight gain, and good memories. I found myself back in NYC, forlorn, bleary-eyed, and - gasp! - having to fix my own breakfast.  Oh, the hardships of re-entry. 

Fortunately, we do have The Commons downstairs, and so far no one there has noticed when I'm wearing pajamas.  Also fortunately, the five-pound bag of The Roasterie 'Kansas City Blend' coffee I ordered (from, yes, Kansas City) arrived while I was gone. And most fortunately of all, I remembered that I like to cook. 

And when you find yourself in the kitchen feeling, for whatever reason, just a little out of practice (read: lazy/whiny), it's good to have a reaally simple, shall we say Foolproof recipe to which you can turn.

Chicken with Shallots, from Ina Garten's new cookbook, "Foolproof", which The Mother gave us both for Hanukkah. Good timing. 

This is the chicken I made for you guys tonight and I think I can say it was a hit. I recommend it for a busy winter week like this because it is FAST, Easy, and yet also somehow Fancy-Seeming and special. 

Happy Winter and Room Service for All!

Love,

The Boo

The Boo's Room Service Recovery Chicken, or Ina Garten's 'Chicken With Shallots' from 'Foolproof'

*I do not own an ovenproof skillet, so I browned the chicken in a pan on the stove and then transferred it to a roasting pan for the oven part. Also, Ina calls for "boneless, skin-on" chicken breasts which I couldn't find. My breasts had bones (you know what I mean) and it was just fine. *

Ingredients

4 skin-on chicken breasts

1/4 C minced shallot (1 large)

1/3 C fresh lemon juice  

3 tbsp heavy cream

4 tbsp (1/2 stick) butter, diced, room temp

1/2 C white wine

3 tbsp canola or veg oil

1 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

Preheat oven to 425. 

Heat oil in skillet over med high heat for 2 min until it starts to smoke. 

Place chicken breasts, skin down, in oil and leave them for 4 - 5 min.

With tongs, turn them over and put the skillet in the oven for 12-15 min. (or, like me, transfer to roasting pan, and put in oven.)

Meanwhile, on stove, mix shallots, lemon juice, and wine in a saucepan over med-high heat. Cook until reduced to about 2 tbsp.  

Add cream, salt, pepper and bring to a boil. 

Turn off heat and add the diced butter. Swirl the pan to melt the butter.  (Don't reheat, says Ina, or sauce will "break", something that the Mouse explained to me and I still don't understand what it is.)

Take out the chicken and pour the sauce over it. Serve. 

A Farewell to Christmas

Dear Boo,

Happy Little Christmas!

I remember growing up, we celebrated the twelfth and final night of Christmas as sort of a last hurrah to the season, softening the blow of taking the tree down, stripping the house of its last shiny bauble, twinkle, and bough. It was always so sad seeing our living room afterwards, as if the way we lived 11 months out of the year was just devoid of something--spirit, spectacle--ooomph. And then there was the dried out, naked carcass of the tree, left for the garbage man on the sidewalk. It was all too much to take. So the Parents devised what in retrospect was a fantastic strategy of distraction. For this one special night, The Mouse and The Boo would make dinner for them--planning the menu ourselves, scanning the food-stained pages of mom's ancient stack of cookbooks, and taking our first few stabs at slicing, dicing, and sauteeing. What did we even make? Do you remember? All I can recall is the discovery made some time around 1996 that parmesan and pears taste delicious together--a revelation for us novices that came in the form of a salad (with fennel maybe?) from one of mom's cookbooks (Silver Palate maybe?) (Note from the Boo: It was Chase's "Open House Cookbook", and the salad was "Mixed Greens w/Fennel, Pears, and Parmesan Shards". The beginning of my obsession.), and Jamie Oliver's Spinach, Feta, and Pea Salad (a standby to this day).

Then there was a make your own sundae bar, where I'd pile on the "Whipped Topping" and we'd sit, cookies and cream mustaches on our faces watching Dad fumble and curse at the ancient movie projector which he'd eventually get to work with a sputter and whirr, and there I'd be, larger than life, six years old in the Helyar Woods, grinning at the camera and lifting my skirt over my head. Or grandma at her wedding on a rooftop in the city, the wind blowing her veil, and you next to me saying, "When I get married, I'm going to do it on a rooftop in Manhattan." (Or did I make that last part up? Is it possible we actually had footage from her wedding?) And then we'd exchange gifts with each other (what did we possibly buy each other as kids?), and give presents to Mom and Dad (remember when I gave Dad a tie? That still makes me laugh. What the hell was I thinking?). And then, the house quiet and a little empty, the scent of pine needles beginning to fade, we'd go off to bed.

I think some of my earliest memories of cooking, and the joy of finding a new recipe, of feeding people and watching proudly as their plates were cleared, came from our Little Christmas traditions. And as this year was the first time I've had my very own Christmas tree, covered in my very own hand-crafted ornaments, I'm finding that I still need a little something to help soften the blow of saying goodbye to the season. (Note from The Boo: Um, mine is still up.)

So, tomorrow night (since tonight, on the official twelfth night of Christmas, I had rehearsal), The Fiance and I will celebrate Three Kings Day (his people's name for Little Christmas) with a gift exchange, dinner by him, and--sniff--taking down the tree.

But before we say goodbye, one last taste of the holiday.

My Christmas plate. Clockwise from down center: the Fiance's Pernil, Yucca with Cuban Mojo, The Boo's Roasted Brussels Sprouts, Raw Kale Salad, Ina's Cauliflower Gratin, The Mother's Sauteed Red Cabbage, The Mother's Stuffing, The Mother's Turkey, and--yep--The Mother's Sweet Potato Casserole. With marshmallows.

And lastly...

For Christmas Eve at the Boo's House, Ina's Baked Shrimp Scampi. A mess of shrimp swimming in garlicky butter with parsley and breadcrumbs, baked until golden brown. (Note from the Boo: MMMMMM)

I'll be making this again. At least some things don't have to get put away with the ornaments.

Ina Garten's Baked Shrimp Scampi

2 pounds (12 to 15 per pound) shrimp in the shell
3 tablespoons good olive oil
2 tablespoons dry white wine
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
4 teaspoons minced garlic (4 cloves)
1/4 cup minced shallots
3 tablespoons minced fresh parsley leaves
1 teaspoon minced fresh rosemary leaves
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon grated lemon zest
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 extra-large egg yolk
2/3 cup panko (Japanese dried bread flakes)
Lemon wedges, for serving

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F.

Peel, devein, and butterfly the shrimp, leaving the tails on. Place the shrimp in a mixing bowl and toss gently with the olive oil, wine, 2 teaspoons salt, and 1 teaspoon pepper. Allow to sit at room temperature while you make the butter and garlic mixture.

In a small bowl, mash the softened butter with the garlic, shallots, parsley, rosemary, red pepper flakes, lemon zest, lemon juice, egg yolk, panko, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1/4 teaspoon of pepper until combined.

Starting from the outer edge of a 14-inch oval gratin dish, arrange the shrimp in a single layer cut side down with the tails curling up and towards the center of the dish. Pour the remaining marinade over the shrimp. Spread the butter mixture evenly over the shrimp. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes until hot and bubbly. If you like the top browned, place under a broiler for 1 minute. Serve with lemon wedges.

Love,

The Mouse

Xmas 2: Leftover Boogaloo

Dear Boo,

I'm just not ready to give up on Christmas yet, I guess. Though really, the lessons learned from our post-holiday leftover extravaganza do translate into your regular run of the mill overstocked fridge evenings. Repurposing the large quantities of leftovers into something a family would want to eat for oh, four days in a row, was a challenge, but one which the Boyfriend and I met head on. Okay, here's where I have to break it down. To be honest, I was worried about cooking the Christmas feast. Not because I thought the dishes were beyond us, but because really, the Boyfriend and I don't generally cook together. The main reason being our kitchen, which as you know, is the size of an airplane bathroom, making standing next to one another impossible, let alone bearing knives. As I see it, cooking with someone can be as treacherous as traveling together, or perhaps a more appropriate analogy for our line of work, like playing a scene together. Its all in the chemistry, the give and take, the compatibility of styles, and plenty of counter space (dressing room, or kitchen). The stage has got to be big enough for both of you, or someone's going to end up chewing the scenery. In Florida, the three kitchens available to us were spacious, granite countertopped, island-boasting affairs. Plenty of room to stretch out and stay out of each other's way. Too many cooks, you know. While we planned the menu together, we gracefully fell to our separate jobs, checking back on one another to taste, reseason, offer advice, or catch a drip. Overall it was a beautiful birth of a new partnership--or should I say, a new aspect of the current one. The success was evidenced by our a) not stabbing one another with a fork, and b) the fact that we continued to plan, shop, and cook together for the remainder of our stay. Quite tastily, I might add.

Boxing Day, December 26th: Pork sandwiches on leftover mini dinner rolls, topped with the leftover red cabbage and pickles. SO so tasty, it was almost better the second day around. Served of course with a side of...
The Boyfriend's fried yucca. The leftover yucca was sliced into wedges and fried in vegetable oil. I may have mentioned that yucca, like potato, is good for mashing or boiling. No suprise it's also, as our uncle would say, a KILLER when fried. We added a little Mouse/Boyfriend extra spice by serving it with chipotle mayonnaise and lime slices (recipe: buy a can of chipotles in adobo. Mix adobo and some of the chopped pepper with mayo to taste. Squeeze lime if you're crazy).

While the sandwiches and yucca were pretty much the tastiest things EVER, the award for best leftover makeover goes to our rice and beans, barely recognizable in the below pictures.

Here we have the beans, pureed in a food processor with a couple good chunks of onion, two chopped plum tomatoes, two cloves of fresh garlic, and a few jalapeno slices to create a delicious black bean dip. I topped it with a quick salad of deconstructed guacamole (if there'd been any guac left over from our late night xmas snacking I would have just used that): sliced avocado, diced onion and tomato, jalapeno, cilantro, lime juice and salt. SO good.

And here, though I can't say this picture does it justice, is the leftover white rice, gone cold and sticky in the fridge, transformed into a delectable arroz con leche, or rice pudding. I'd had the idea a while back to use leftover chinese/thai takeout rice in this manner, but never tried it. Personally, I love rice pudding, and the Boyfriend has rhapsodized before about the warm arroz con leche his mom used to make. Some experimenting and improvising later, I heard one sister say to another, "You have to taste this, even if you're full, if only because it'll remind you of mom." Am I kind of proud of this one? You could say that.

Needless to say, this meal kicked some post-holiday ass.

Sunday, December 27: Football at the Boyfriend's Brother's house. The Boyfriend's sister had hosted a Christmas Eve party from which there were, naturally, leftovers. One of those leftovers was a whole mess of roast turkey. I had mentioned making chicken salad from the leftover Old Bay chicken, and the Boyfriend suggested we use the turkey instead. As we were driving over to the house with a cooler full of leftovers, we brainstormed. What kind of turkey salad? Should we add craisins? More chipotle? Go traditional? Then it hit me--I'm always a fan of curried chicken salad which often involves grapes. Why not grapes and celery? Traditional enough to not offend the kids, but interesting enough to keep us cooks inspired. (Recipe: chop, slice, or tear up roast turkey. Toss with red seedless grapes, sliced in half, diced celery, and mayonnaise until the consistency is how you like it. Salt and pepper to taste. Serve on--leftover--potato rolls)

And, since no football watching is complete (or at all interesting to me) without chips and dip, we took the leftover-leftover black bean dip, topped it this time with shredded monterey jack and cheddar, and popped it in the microwave for a hot, cheesy, bean dip.

While I can't say there was nothing left idling in the fridge when we departed for New York, I'd say we did a valiant job of waving the waste not, want not flag. And getting creative juices flowing with the Boyfriend as we plotted and executed our spectacular reinventions is my new favorite way to work up an appetite. Well, second favorite. :)

Love,

The Mouse

Leftover Rice Pudding

2 cups cooked white rice (chinese takeout would work perfectly)
3 cups milk (I'd use whole, but a low-fat version would probably work too)
1/2 cup sugar
pinch of salt
1 cinnamon stick
1 slice orange peel, minus the pith
1 teaspoon vanilla

Mix first 4 ingredients together in a pot over medium-high heat. Bring to a boil, lower heat and add cinnamon, orange, and vanilla. Simmer, stirring occasionally, about 45 minutes until most of the milk has been absorbed or evaporated and the consistency feels right. Serve hot or cold with cinnamon sprinkled on top.
**this should work with any amount of rice and milk as long as the ratio is about the same. We had 5 cups leftover white rice and the proportions worked just fine.

Plantains and Peppermint: Christmas in Florida

Dear Boo,

Do you realize that the first entries we ever wrote were two letters to each other on the very first Christmas we ever spent apart? That time, I was in Jersey, holding down the buche, as they say. But this year, again at two different celebrations, I was at my very first Christmas away from our childhood home. It was a Christmas of firsts in many ways: my first Christmas away from the family, my first Christmas in a warm climate (Tampa, Florida), my first Christmas with the Boyfriend and his family, my first Christmas cooking the entire meal (with the Boyfriend, of course), and my first Christmas with an (almost entirely) latin menu, which in itself constitutes a number of firsts...

I'm not going to lie--it was hard being away from our family and our traditions (no Alastair Sim's Christmas Carol on Christmas Eve, no lobster dinner the night before, no massive tree with wacked out homemade ornaments, no turkey!). But I decided early on that it was time to let go of the past, and embrace this Christmas as something entirely new. A day which, in spirit, resembled the holiday I knew, but in sights, smells, sounds, and yes, taste, was something all its own. I was, after all, a guest of someone else's family who have their own much-prized traditions, and far be it from me to impose my own esoteric Hart family mumbo jumbo where it doesn't belong and wouldn't quite fit. And I have to say, it was a lovely time, full of newness (for me), festive decorations, tons of kids (who are really what makes Christmas so magical, once the rest of us have gone all disillusioned and jaded. I actually engaged in Santa letter-writing, cookie and milk plating and then eating, and all kinds of fun little white lies in the name of the Jolly one), and feasting like you would not believe. Indeed, said feast went on for DAYS as the Boyfriend and I traveled from house to house to visit siblings, bearing leftovers which we reconstituted in all sorts of creative and delicious ways (Christmas Part 2: Leftover Boogaloo, soon to be posted).

As you may remember from last year's Christmas miracle, the Boyfriend had declared that this year, there would be no ordering food from the Cuban restaurant nearby. Having tackled the Pernil (roast pork leg) the year before, he would now (with my help) be cooking the entire menu. The sisters gasped, some reached for the phone to call in back-up orders in case we really blew it, and others reached for the fire extinguisher. We barely broke a sweat. I don't think I'm ruining the suspense when I tell you we pulled it off like gangbusters. Let's take a post-holiday tour, shall we?

The morning after we arrived, we took the rental car to pick up the pork from a little store that looked like an East Harlem bodega, complete with glass-enclosed, bar-covered corner where lottery tickets and phone cards are sold. The pork leg was handed over, a 26 pounder, and we were on our way. The Boyfriend seasoned it with the secret ingredients and set it to marinate in the fridge, which reeked of garlic every time the door was cracked. On Christmas morning, at 4am, the Boyfriend took it out of the fridge, let it come to room temp and then put it in a 450 degree oven for an hour, letting the top get golden, the onions turn to crisps. He then turned the oven down to 275 and we waited...and basted...and waited...until about 4pm when it came out, perfectly golden, falling off the bone, and soaking in its self-created gravy. Fingers immediately pounced, pulling off tender bits before the oven door was closed.

Here it is, ready for carving. Notice the bald spot where a taste was stolen. Child in background with maracas, natch.

A knife is hardly necessary after twelve hours of slow roasting. I turned the juices into a gravy that would have made grandma proud.

Also on the menu were my Old Bay chicken thighs and legs, for those who don't partake in pork (and those that do), and fried sweet plantains, made by the Sister-in-Law, who unlike us, has actually made them successfully before. Starchy, sweet, crisp, and delicious.

Yucca, tended to like a week-old babe by the Boyfriend who boiled them until tender, and then covered in a mojo of sauteed onions, a TON of garlic (I'm sure you're sensing the theme here), lime juice, orange juice, olive oil, and fresh oregano. Similar to a potato, the Yucca is good for mashing or boiling and absorbs the zingy, acidic sauce like a well-seasoned sponge. You can find a similar recipe here, if you're interested...

Rice and beans were also on hand, though I have hardly a picture to prove it. Sorry, rice and beans, I guess you're just not as visually arresting as a 26 lb hunk of slow-cooked meat. You were delicious, nonetheless, and provided essential leftover ingredients for the days to come.

Oh look, there you are! Alongside the green salad of onion, tomato, hearts of palm, and traditional noche buena (Christmas Eve) radishes.

And of course, the red cabbage. Did you really think I'd go without it?! The Boyfriend wanted me to add something to the menu that would represent my Christmas flavors, so I picked the cabbage not only because it, like the jello mold, is a ubiquitous part of the Hart holiday meal, but because out of all of our dishes, it seemed to match best with the menu. Cabbage is a natural pairing with pork and the sweet and sour nature of the dish echoed flavors in the plantains, yucca, and salad. Also, it's cheap and can be made on the stove, which with the oven occupied all day, was a plus. In the end, it was quite a hit and blended in with the crowd so well you'd think it was a native spanish speaker.

For dessert, two apple crisps, one with nuts and one without. Topping made with help from three nieces. Crumbling butter and sugar with hands is a great job for little fingers.

And, the chocolate cake made by our Aunt for Chanukah which was so delicious, so light and chocolatey and creamy, that I had to recreate it. It was quite easy as well, and kept perfectly in the fridge. Next time you have to make a birthday cake, use this recipe, from our favorite Contessa.

I have to say, one of my happiest moments was walking into the dining room, the tree glowing in the background, music tinkling and glasses clinking from the kitchen, and seeing nine small heads bent over plates of chocolate and apple sweets, cookies and candies, smiling and munching. Later that night, when all the gifts were opened, leftovers stored, a late night bourbon drunk, a midnight snack snuck from the fridge, shoes cast off, and a brother-in-law sleeping soundly on an armchair in front of the tree, I got into bed, turned down the lights, and with one earphone in my ear and one in the Boyfriend's, lay listening to the melodious tenor of Dylan Thomas' voice, reading A Child's Christmas in Wales, thinking of you and wondering if a few hundred miles away in a colder climate, you were doing the same. Some traditions I'm just not ready to let go of.

Love,

The Mouse

P.S. For pre-dinner bites, I made this guacamole, and this rosemary chickpea dip (which was more like a chunky spread due to the lack of food processor). Both delicious and simple. And to me, rosemary always tastes like Christmas.

Christmas Ubiquitous Braised Red Cabbage

3 strips of bacon (can substitute olive oil if you're anti-pork)
2 heads of red cabbage (2 heads served about 16, for a large party. But prorportions are forgiving if you want to halve or quarter for a smaller meal)
1 large onion, sliced
1 apple, sliced thin (granny smith works great)
6 Tablespoons cider or red wine vinegar
2 Tablespoons honey
1 Tablespoon brown sugar
Salt and pepper to taste

Slice cabbage thinly, removing core, of course. Soak in a pot of cold water for about 30 minutes to soften. Drain and discard water. Cook bacon in the bottom of a large, heavy pot until the fat is rendered. Remove bacon and discard (or eat). Sautee onion and apple (amounts can vary depending on your taste) in the pot with the bacon fat until tender and browned. Add the cabbage, vinegar, honey and sugar and plenty of salt. Turn heat to low, cover and let cook for 60 to 90 minutes, stirring and tasting occasionally. Amounts may vary depending on how you like it. I may have added more vinegar and sugar as I went until it tasted just right. Add black pepper and salt to finish. As mom wrote when she emailed me the recipe, HMMMMMYUMMMISH...GOES GREAT WITH HAM/TURKEY...

Of Mince and Men, 2010

Dear Mouse,

I write to you on the Eve of the Eve of the New Year, from Washington DC! I'm on the top floor of a creaky old house where I'm living with a few other actors and designers all working on a show at this venerated institution, which is directly across the street. From my window I can see the dome of the Capitol Building, lit up against the cold December night. I am looking forward to an exciting and challenging few months here. If the first two days are any indication I believe this project will considerably expand my vocal range, my physical endurance, and my respect for the House of Atreus. Those crazy Greeks...

Since I've only been in DC two days working 9AM to 530PM (and, ok, basically in bed by, kind of, now) I havent yet even begun to explore this town, culinarily or otherwise. I'm told there's a lot to write home about, but those "in the field" posts will come later.

It's been a while since I posted, for all sorts of happy reasons involving a) an actual food journalism assignment that had to be completed (!more on that later) and b) of course, The Holidays.

So, let me just cut to the chase, which in this case looks like this:

Oh yes.

When I say "Mincemeat" you say "Pie"!

"Mincemeat" -

?

I'm waiting.

(I made this.)

I missed you ! (And the Boyfriend) over Xmas. It was both weird and wonderful to do this Big Holiday in such a new way this year. At first I was afraid. How will this work? You'll be in Florida, I'll be at Helena's place in Irvington... we won't be in NJ sharing the time-honored rituals of lost cognac balls, forgotten Buches, and enormous hams. It was new. And though tinged with nostalgia and some sadness, it was also ... kind of awesome.

I will not even attempt the full story of the delights that were packed into this beautiful little Yuletide-on-Hudson celebration. Helena and I had a 'production meeting' a full two weeks in advance to confirm the small guest list, plan the menus, and schedule activities. (The Date, by phone on Christmas Night: "It's like you bought an all-inclusive Irvington Christmas Package". Wearing my newly acquired Wolf Hat and sipping a hot toddy while preparing to watch Its A Wonderful Life, I solemnly nodded in agreement.)

All-inclusive indeed! It was a great hodge podge of everyone's nostalgic Must-Haves (Helena's grandmother's Divinity recipe, HBF's traditional viewing of "Home Alone"), plus bold steps all our own. To be sure, I made everyone listen to Dylan Thomas reading A Child's Christmas In Wales (a la Hart), but I also seized the opportunity to make a dessert I knew no one in our family would ever go for: the mince pie, which as you know I discovered in Ireland over Xmas 2007.

Going to bed on the Eve covered in flour and butter, I heard HBF on the phone downstairs to his family, expressing exactly the emotions I was feeling. On the one hand, he missed them, and was reminiscing about Christmas Past. On the other, he was suffused with joy and excitement at 'Christmas of the Future'. There's a significant moment in a person's life when a holiday turns from something that you Get to something that you are able to Give. And fact that The Mother was able to come up to Irvington!! to eat our food, open presents under our cracked-out tree, and sing "Grandma got run over by a reindeer" with us was ... well, I think I've said it all.

personalized, bedazzled stockings and songbooks

And you know what? The Mother ate a whole piece of mince pie after all. God Bless Us, Every One. And Happy New Year!!!

Love,

The Boo

PS I also made these cookies which were a big hit and you can eat the leftover lemon curd on your Christmas Morning gingerbread pancakes (we suggest one egg and a lot more milk)

A Mouse Bouche's Christmas Miracle

Dear Boo,

Before every last strand of tinsel is tossed in the trash and every leftover cookie stacked in the freezer, and the record of Dylan Thomas reading A Child's Christmas in Wales back in its sleeve, I'd like to take one more trip back to Christmas past/present.

While we were busy braising red cabbage and throwing out failed buches, another Christmas miracle was taking place a few hundred miles south of us in sunny Tampa, Florida. For the past few years, for a number of reasons, the Boyfriends family has taken to ordering their Christmas dinner from a great little Cuban restaurant near his sister's house. The menu usually consists of Pernil (roasted pork shoulder), chicken, plantains, congri (a variation on black beans and rice), and yucca. And while the food is very authentic and delicious, the Boyfriend had begun to miss the smells and tastes of home-cooked dinner. So, in a fit of adventuresome spirit, he announced to the family that he would be making the pork and chicken this year. They were supportive, if a bit skeptical. "Sure, I've made it before," he lied. He was excited, and nervous, and began doing research, calling his aunt in Miami to get her recipe (which, like many great home cooks was mostly--add a little bit of this, then a little more of that, until it looks about right). He planned out the local butcher where he'd purchase the cut of meat, and we even briefly toyed with doing a test run in our kitchen before he headed out of town.

A couple of days before showtime, and after just a tad of expectant father-esque fretting, the Boyfriend visited the butcher to buy his 10-12 lb pork shoulder. "We've got a 25 pounder, and that's all we've got left," he was told. The gruff butcher wrapped it up and sent him off without another word on the subject. When he unwrapped the meat it turned out to have a thick layer of fat and all of the pig skin on the shoulder, the traditional Puerto Rican preparation which allows for enough skin to make chicharrones (pork rinds). NOT how his aunt had described it. So, with a $7 supermarket knife he set about to cut the skin off until it resembled the meat he remembered. Once it looked about right, praying he didn't get rid of too much fat, he set about to make the mojo of sour orange juice, garlic, oregano, and other secret spices, to marinate the meat. Around this point I got my 12th or so call of the day to update me on the status of the pig. I bit my tongue silently when he told me of the incisions he'd made in the meat in order to stuff in some of his aunt's secret ingredients. "One of the cuts I made was a little big." "How big?" I asked, trying to sound calm. "About 5 inches long across the top..." "Uh...okay...so maybe you'll just cover that or something so you don't lose too much moisture." "I could tie it up with butcher twine. Or staple it..." He honestly said this, folks. I'm going to say he was joking. A few more frantic phone calls, and the subject was put to rest. The meat was marinating, the carols were being sung (by someone, somewhere, I assume), and there was nothing left to do but wait for the big day.

On Christmas morning, the Boyfriend woke up at 5am to take the roast out of the fridge and bring it to room temp before putting it in the oven. So hardcore. By the time our house woke up, a few hours later, his was already full of the smell of garlic and bacon fat and things were looking good. Around 3pm, I received a slightly blurry picture message on my phone:

A gloriously browned roast, practically swelling with pride as it rested in the pan. I passed it around to my family, proud as the roast of my new favorite chef. A text appeared: "Pork is damned tasty. I'm already slated to do next year's." My eyes welled up. "You realize this is all because of A Mouse Bouche," my oh so modest sister said, "We inspired this!". When I got the busy chef on the phone he was bursting with excitement. "It was incredible! When I served it, I had to go take a moment to collect myself. The meat FELL off the bone, babe. FELL OFF THE BONE." The Boyfriend's sister said she would try making the black beans next year, and his Sister-in-Law ventured that she could probably manage the yucca. Home cooking had returned to Christmas.

The Boyfriend already can't wait to make it again, with some minor adjustments (maybe no huge gash across the top of the meat?) and I will happily turn the kitchen over to him, sit back, watch and learn. I mentioned your comment to him, Boo, and he surprised me by agreeing with you. I guess A Mouse Bouche can take some tiny bit of responsibility for the birth of a new love affair with cooking. I'm so proud, you have no idea.

Below, some pics from the lunch we had the Sunday after Christmas, using leftovers. I played sous-chef, making an slapdash mojo-esque sauce (cilantro, red onion, garlic, oil, vinegar, lime juice, and salt) for the pork and the Boyfriend's perfectly golden-fried yucca.

It's an amazing feeling to create something with your own two hands that can feed and warm the people you love. But what's almost as satisfying is watching someone discover this for the first time.

And it sure was damned tasty.

Love,

The Mouse

A Perfect Ganache: Christmas with A Mouse Bouche

Dear Boo,

Happy New Year! I am just now finally getting around to sorting through the many Christmas photographs taken during our 3 days of cooking and eating. On boxing day, as you know, I flew down to Florida to be with the Boyfriend's family and continue the eating fest, so its been a busy holiday week. Much material generated for future entries, and far more calories ingested in the process. By now I am wondering if everyone is so holidayed-out that this post has missed its chance. They say a picture is worth a thousand jelly donuts (or something), so I'm going to let these do most of the talking.

While we missed you for the first day and a half of major cooking, I'd say it was actually a rather smooth Christmas preparation. This year the motto was, "its only dinner" which of course is a flat out fallacy if you know our family, nothing is ever JUST a meal, but served to remind us that if the citrus-glazed carrots didn't get made, locusts would probably not fall from the sky. Sure, there was the chocolate sponge cake buche that was tossed in the trash around 1am when we realized the cream of tartar really was an essential component, and there was the port glazed onions with 5 (FIVE!) bay leaves in the glaze which oddly resulted in a fishy and altogether unpleasant taste that bit the dust in favor of a simpler balsamic glaze. But all in all, everything came together smoothly, even with one crucial pair of hands stuck on a snowy runway in Chicago. A Christmas miracle.

And speaking of miracles, look what I got! What a coincidence that I posted a wish list on the internet for billions of people to read, and it just so happened that I got exactly these items for Christmas! ;) (and, in a move no one saw coming, the Boyfriend got me an immersion blender!)

Braiser on right, french oven on left. Gorgeous blue to match my kitchen.

Our Christmas Eve dinner, amidst the cooking frenzy. It's always a feat to get everyone to sit down together next to the twinkling tree for one quiet hour while the beaters and mixing bowls idle in the sink. Lobsters are an elegant and festive tradition with an alternate agenda--the market steams them for us so dinner is ready to go.

Every year I try to convince mom to brine the turkey after all the reading I've done on the gospel of moist bird. And every year we get sidetracked and then realize we don't have a bucket and end up doing the usual. This year I came home to mom saying, "I read this great article about salting the turkey which is supposed to be even better than brining!" Basically, it's a dry brine, or as our aunt pointed out, what you're doing is essentially koshering the meat. The nice thing is that you don't need to buy a bucket or find room for that in the already packed fridge. The morning of Christmas eve we made a combination of herbs and kosher salt, washed the bird and spread it all over, then wrapped with plastic and refrigerated while we waited for the transformation.
I had high hopes despite the fact that mom kept saying, elbow deep in the neck cavity, "I don't like the looks of this bird." The way she said it I half expected the turkey to pull out a deck of cards and try to hustle me for $5. But look how lovely it turned out!

No doubt the salting helped with the perfect all around browing you see, as well as the moist and flavorful meat and skin. To go with the turkey was of course, the gravy which as usual was tended to like the newest grandchild with all three siblings--Mom, Uncle, and Aunt, crowded around the stove cooing at the stockpot. Our cousin Sam disturbing threatened to pour himself a glass, it was so good.

But first--the appetizers:

I know how you feel about pate, but this was truly incredible. Chicken liver pate made by our mother, with mustard and cornichons on the side. My mouth is watering just writing this. I think we all left with our cholesterol elevated by a few points, but oh was it worth it. There was also Barefoot Contessa caviar dip for which our mother sent our aunt on a christmas day search through the city for dill. Delicious with chips. Rounding out the elegant trio was mushroom crostini, made by yours truly which was nice if not earth shattering. What did in fact, rock the very soil beneath us was the tray of lumpia, made by our cousin, which you missed at last year's celebration.

But back to the main event:
Turkey and Ham, of course.

Ina's sweet potatoes, adapted by our mother, the queen of the Yam. Topped with apples. So good.

The fated port glazed onions, almost saved by the last minute balsamic glaze.

Tasty tasty potato and fennel gratin made by yours truly. Could have used a little salt. Or maybe it was that we were short on gruyere. What's with me and gratins?

Okay, let me explain. What you see here is a spinach ring. Something, I gathered, was very popular in the 50s. What happened was, originally our menu looked like this: sweet potato puree, mashed potatoes with fennel, and spinach gratin. Also known as: orange creamy mushy thing, white creamy mushy thing, and green creamy cheesy mushy thing. Perfect for people with dentures, but for the rest of us, a little more textural variety was called for. We found the potato gratin which fit the bill, but that left us with two gratins on the menu which even I can't handle, despite my passion for all things covered in cheese. So what to do with all the frozen spinach? A souffle? There are a surprizingly limited number of recipes for frozen spinach that don't include cheese and cream as main ingredients. This is where the spinach ring came in. light, (despite the 9 NINE egg yolks after doubling the recipe), cheese-free, and texturally like a firmer mousse. Made in the bundt pan, it resembled the ubiquitous jello mold at so many family gatherings, but somehow, it worked.

Also on the buffet were citrus glazed carrots (they made it to the table), and a slightly tweaked version of my favorite red cabbage. And of course, of course. the stuffing. sigh.

And for dessert? Just a light sampling of:


Black bottom creamy pecan tart, key lime cheesecake (made by our aunt), the perfect ganache, suggested by mom, not to be confused with the Hindu elephant god despite Mom constantly referring to it as "the Ganesh," made Christmas morning on a last minute whim in a--gasp--toaster oven! by me. Linzer tortes and Dad's most favorite ever ginger cookies by our Aunt, and mexican wedding cakes made by me.

Full yet?

Oh, we've only just begun. What followed was days of Latin food, the biggest porterhouse steaks you've ever seen for New Year's Eve, and chili and cornbread for New Years Day.

2008: a tasty year. Can't wait to see what's on the menu for 09.

Love,

The Mouse