Holiday Pies at the CIA!

Years ago, my husband and I lived in Chicago. Every Thanksgiving, I cooked an elaborate Thanksgiving dinner with a huge turkey, various trimmings, an appetizer course, hors d'oeuvres, and a couple of pies for dessert. All this for three people: he, me, and my younger sister, who would take the train out from college to spend the week as our Thanksgiving Visitor. It was blissful.

When our son was born, we moved the hundreds of miles back to New York to live closer to our parents (both sets of whom live in the same town ~ !) so we could do family-type things like celebrate holidays and get free babysitting.

Because my dad is a chef, I no longer cook Thanksgiving dinner. He hogs the spotlight by making a huge turkey, 35 side dishes, homemade cranberry relish, and about 50 appetizers that do a pretty good job of making the big meal anticlimactic. As the baker, I get assigned desserts.

Now, as you might imagine, it takes some pretty spectacular desserts to rouse any interest at all after this stupendous feast. My father's Thanksgiving dinner is not an easy act to follow. Over the years, I've refined my techniques so that the pies I make and bring tend to actually get eaten, which, you'll have to trust me here, is a tremendous compliment on its own.

This year, I'll be bringing my A-est game though. I'm going to the CIA ~ that's the Culinary Institute of America, folks ~ for their "Holiday Pies at the CIA" class! I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to this. Going back to the CIA is, for me, like what I imagine it would be for Alice to return to Wonderland (the good parts, that is).

When I told my chef friend at the restaurant where I work about my pie class, he said, "Do you think you really need a class on how to make pie?" (And yes, I did hug him, bless his heart.) I thought about it. And friends, the answer is yes. Because although I've made probably thousands of pies using scores of different techniques, there is never a point at which you stop learning. And every time I go back to the CIA for a class or a bootcamp, I learn something new, something expanding and relevant to the job I do at work or at home.

Plus, making all my Thanksgiving pies in someone else's kitchen with no cleanup at home and lunch at the CIA? Priceless.

If you want to get in on the action and live in the New York-Connecticut-Massachusetts area, check it out. The Holiday Pies class is offered on Monday 11/23, Tuesday 11/24, and Wednesday 11/25. And coming up in December, they'll be offering a Holiday Cookies Class. Wonderland, here I come.

Roasted Kale Chips

I realize that I’m the last one to the party with these roasted kale chips. Everyone and their food-blogging neighbor has already made them or tried them. But for me, they were a revelation recently, and since then, a mild obsession.

First off, the only way I’ve ever been able to warm up to kale was to find it swishing around in a bowl of caldo verde, the Portuguese kale soup flavored with chorizo that I’m hoping is on the menu in heaven. Beyond this, kale was something pleasant to shove under a pork chop or a chicken breast before bringing a plate to the table.

I love, love, LOVE roasting vegetables, and in fact it’s my favorite way to prepare everything from cauliflower to Brussels sprouts. But for some reason, it never occurred to me roast a leafy green vegetable.

But after hearing so many sing the praises of kale in its roasted state, I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I bought a bunch, trimmed, washed, and dressed it. Still, even as I was laying the leaves out on the baking sheet, I was skeptical. So leathery! So . . . odd. So little faith on my part.

Ten minutes later, we were in the presence of one of the most truly delectable, utterly addictive things I’ve ever consumed. I’m not hyperbolizing people ~ I’m dead serious. How serious? Between my two teens and a friend, they ate a pound and a half of kale and begged for more. KALE.

And kale, as you probably know, is one thing we should be eating much more of. Vitamins A, B6, C, and K, potassium, manganese, calcium and iron, folic acid and copper ~ kale has them. Fiber and carotenoids ~ got them. And kale, bless its leafy green heart, has fewer than 40 calories per cooked cup.

I will tell you right now, if you make these kale chips, better make twice as much as you think you’ll need. You’ll eat the first batch directly off the pan, burned fingers be danged. If you are serving this to kids, you can call it “kale chips,” but if you’re married to a man like mine, you’ll have to go with “roasted kale.” Either way, I suggest you keep things quiet until you’ve had your cut, then put them out on a platter, call them whatever you want, and watch them disappear.

 

Roasted Kale Chips

• 1 bunch kale, washed well and spun dry
• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 tablespoons rice vinegar
• Sea salt and coarsely ground black pepper to taste

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or aluminum foil and spray with nonstick pan coating.
2. Use a sharp knife to cut along each side of the central rib; remove ribs. Tear leaves into 2-inch pieces and place in large nonreactive mixing bowl.
3. In a small bowl, stir together olive oil and vinegar with a fork. Drizzle over kale leaves; toss to coat evenly. Use tongs to lay kale leaves in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet. Sprinkle with sea salt and black pepper to taste.
4. Roast kale for 5 minutes in preheated oven. Remove from oven and gently toss leaves with tongs or spatula; return to oven. Roast another 5 minutes, or until the kale is crispy and browned. The leaves with crisp further on standing, so don’t allow them to get too dark in the oven or they’ll be bitter. Let stand one minute on baking sheet, then remove to plate and serve.

Recipe Notes:

• Be sure to remove the entire rib from each leaf. The rib portion, if left to roast, will become hard and spiky ~ very unpleasant to eat.
• Do not be tempted to roast the kale at a higher temperature. If the kale cooks too quickly, it will be bitter and not perfectly crisp.
• Make sure all the kale leaves are well coated with the oil-and-vinegar dressing; you can use kosher salt instead of sea salt if you don’t have the latter.
• This technique also works with collard greens. The texture will be a bit different because the leaf is flat instead of curled, and it may take slightly longer, but it will still be delicious!

November 10 ~ I'm Thankful For . . .

Music.

Specifically, right now, the music that's scrolling through my little hand-me-down iPod. My iPod is not fancy ~ it's an aging Nano that one of my kids upgraded from ~ but when I'm standing in front of a sink (and countertop and baker's bench and stove) full of dishes at the end of a long day and the last thing I feel like doing is getting busy with the sponge, a little music makes all the difference.

I could wax rhapsodic about the healing/soothing/brain-enhancing powers of music, but that's been done before and by far more delicate wits than that possessed by yours truly.

Scottish essayist Thomas Carlyle called music "the speech of angels." Writer Leo Tolstoy called it "the shorthand of emotion." And French poet Alphonse de Lamartine terms music, "the literature of the heart." Lovely and all true. Music is every one of these things and more.

There's no passion that music cannot raise and quell (John Dryden). It has the power to express what cannot be said and yet what is impossible not to say (Victor Hugo). It peoples undesired solitude (Robert Browning) and is the "wine that fills the cup of silence" (Robert Fripp).

And as beautiful as these charming, apt words are, when I'm up to my elbows in dirty pots or trying to survive another mile on the elliptical machine, it's a quote by American labor leader William Green that best describes my sentiments: "Music is a friend of labor for it lightens the task by refreshing the nerves and spirit of the worker."

I'm grateful for music, and for music makers. For Jimi Hendrix and Nina Simone, for Johnny Cash, Muse, Metallica, and Skillet. For old-time hymns and Flamenco guitar, 70s disco and 80s hair metal, and classic rock. Thanks for keeping me company, for refreshing my nerves and spirit, and for lightening my tasks. For those about to rock ~ and for those who have kept us supplied with rock all along ~ I salute you.

What are you thankful for?

Cinnamon Brown Sugar Ice Cream with Chili-Praline Pecans

In some places in the world, like the U.S. Northeast, winter is coming. In New York, as I write this, it is 46 degrees and there's a chilly bluster in the wind that is shaking the autumn-leaf wreath on my front door. Some would say that ice cream season is behind us now. I am not that someone.

In my house, ice cream season never ends. Flavors changes with the seasons, the berries and fruits of spring and summer giving way to the spices and deep, intense savor of autumn and winter flavors. At no point in the year would I (I, who puts on a coat to retrieve the mail from my front porch, two literal steps from the door) ever say that the cold comfort of ice cream is obsolete.

Thanksgiving is coming up in a few short weeks and I think this ice cream is the perfect accompaniment to pies featuring apples, pears, squash, and pumpkin. Of course, it's perfectly nice on its own, but you might also like to serve it sandwiched between two large, chewy Ginger Sugar Cookies. The spiciness of the pecans is a slow burn ~ you won't notice it at first, but you'll feel it at the back of your throat a moment after you swallow.

The pecans themselves are pretty addictive. (Bonus: you'll use only have the batch in this ice cream, so you'll have plenty for snacking.) They also make a nice gift on their own. However, if you dislike nuts, feel free to omit them in the ice cream.


Cinnamon Brown Sugar Ice Cream with Chili-Praline Pecans

• 1 cup whole milk
• 2 cups heavy cream
• 3/4 cup light brown sugar, divided
  
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• Pinch sea salt
  
• 5 large egg yolks
• 1 cup Chili-Praline Pecans (recipe follows)

For Chili-Praline Pecans:

• 1 cup sugar
• 1/2 cup water
• 1 cup pecans, broken up
• 2 teaspoons crushed red pepper flakes
• Pinch sea salt (optional)
  

1. In a medium heavy-bottomed saucepan, combine milk, cream, 1/2 cup brown sugar, and cinnamon. Bring to scalding point (just until milk begins to steam and bubbles form around the edge), stirring to dissolve sugar.
   
2. Meanwhile, place egg yolks in a medium nonreactive mixing bowl. Whisk egg yolks along with remaining 1/4 cup brown sugar and pinch salt. Set aside until milk is warm.
3. When milk is ready, slowly pour it into the egg mixture, whisking constantly. Pour egg mixture back into saucepan and place over medium-low heat, stirring constantly. The custard is ready when it begins to thicken and coats the back of a spoon. Remove it from the heat and pour it through a fine strainer into a clean bowl. Set the bowl over an ice bath or in the refrigerator to cool.
4. When the mixture is thoroughly cooled, process in your ice cream maker according to manufacturer's instructions.
5. To make Chili-Praline Pecans (recipe adapted from Bruce Weinstein's Ultimate Ice Cream Book ~ one of my absolute favorite books for ice cream recipes): combine 1 cup sugar and 1/2 cup water in a small heavy-bottomed saucepan. Heat over medium heat, stirring just until sugar dissolves. Let the sugar continue to cook until it turns golden. Take the pan off the heat, turn on your exhaust fan, and add 1 cup of pecans, broken up, and 2 teaspoons crushed red pepper flakes. Be careful here ~ the peppers will release eye-watering, nose-stinging fumes, so be sure to stand back at this point. Stir to coat the nuts evenly, sprinkle with a pinch of sea salt (optional), then pour them out onto a baking sheet lined with a piece of waxed paper or parchment sprayed with nonstick pan spray. Using a heat-resistant spatula, smooth nuts into a single layer. Let cool. When completely cool (about 1/2 hour), chop roughly and store in an air-tight container at room temperature.
   
6. To add pecans, either pour the chopped Chili-Praline Pecans into your ice-cream machine during the last minute or two of processing, or add them by sprinkling over the ice cream as you are spooning it into a container, layering the pecans throughout the ice cream. Freeze for at least 3 hours before eating.

Makes about 1 quart of ice cream.

Recipe Notes:

• Don't panic if the ground cinnamon just floats on top of the custard base and refuses to blend in. It won't cooperate until you process the base in your ice-cream freezer, at which point it will incorporate beautifully.
• If spicy is not your thing, omit the pepper flakes or replace them with 1/2 teaspoon of ground cinnamon.
  

November 6 ~ I'm Thankful For . . .

Cutlery.

Pedestrian? Perhaps. But I, for one, can't imagine life without knives, spoons, and forks.

How would we feed babies without spoons? Cut into a perfectly done T-bone without a knife? Swirl fettuccine Alfredo onto a spoon and into our mouths without benefit of fork tines?

Life without cereal? Finger foods forever? Messy hand-held surf-n-turf? I'm so grateful for flatware.

What are you thankful for today?

November 5 ~ I'm Thankful For . . .

Teachers.

Teachers are, to me, some of the greatest unsung heroes. Of course, I'm biased. My husband is a teacher, and I can tell you that this is a position that is like few others in regard to the types of demands placed on it. Teachers are often torn between conflicting interests and expected to legislate a comfortable middle ground. They hold a job where they are always "on," always performing, always being critiqued, often publicly. (Especially high school teachers.) They have so much more to do than the job they actually get paid for ~ and they do it, day after day, with tremendous pressure from every angle. Yet they manage to supervise French club, offer extra help and mentorship, coach sports teams, and attend talent shows and car washes. And kids actually like teachers. Most of them, anyway.

I'm thankful, too, for those teachers who aren't teachers just by way of having a job title. These are the born instructors. Enthusiastic and generous, they're fantastic resources, willing to sharing their mastery.

Consider pinewood derbies, for example. They probably wouldn't exist without the tool-belt slingers who show up in gyms and church basements and community centers to shape wooden blocks into aerodynamic race cars and explain the principles of friction and load balance to 8-year-olds.

And then there are those who teach the icing-on-the-cake things ~ knitting, fly-tying, stretching the pocket of a lacrosse stick ~ that often germinate friendships by cementing connections through shared hobbies. Priceless!

I'm pretty thankful to a friend at work who has patiently taught me several new culinary skills for no other reason than because I asked him to (and not at all because I bribed him with pastry). Because he's a chef and I'm a baker, he's not required or expected to teach me anything, but I'm really grateful that he's willing to. Tasks he probably takes for granted ~ filleting a fish, breaking down a chicken ~ are new to me and therefore terrifically exciting.

Teachers, whether professional or personal, give their students the wherewithal to accomplish something good for themselves, regardless of the scale, effectively empowering them. And that is definitely something to appreciate.

What are you thankful for today?

November 4 ~ I'm Thankful For . . .

People who take time.

I am a multitasker, a rusher, a packer of minutes into moments. I tend to require reasons, justifications, dual-purposes. I like killing two ~ or three, or six ~ birds with one stone. This has served me well as a freelancer, working independently to accomplish what I need to and simultaneously have a life, a family, a satisfying set of goals and dreams.

But when it comes to others, I often have to force myself to slow, to listen, to be still and engaged. When my son wants to play his latest guitar solo for me or my daughter wants to confide the nightmare that woke her last night, I must make a concerted effort to put down whatever I'm doing (showing not a wisp of irritation at the interruption), turn around, and take note. I have to work so hard to cultivate what seems to come naturally to so many others.

Take, for instance, coaches in the junior and senior high schools. As my kids have played their way through various sports ~ track, cross-country, soccer, lacrosse, wrestling ~ I can honestly say, the men and women who have coached them impressed me over and over with their generosity. For the most part, these are teachers with families, hobbies, and lives of their own. And while they do get paid to coach, somehow I don't think this quite compensates for the matches that run late on school (i.e., work) nights, early away meets on weekend mornings, inclement sideline duty, hostile parents, and the incredible trickiness of dealing with teens en masse.

And this also goes for people who volunteer to take time and share in the capacity of scout leaders, community sports coaches, Sunday school teachers, and activity coordinators in nursing homes and community centers. These positions require huge sacrifices in terms of time, and since none of us has much to spare, I am really grateful for those who are so unselfish with this precious commodity.

And going one step further than this, I'm thankful for people who take the time just to do something for someone else though it creates inconvenience them. Though it may not bring them any personal benefit at all to do so. The guy who walks his shopping cart all the way back into the store on a rainy day so someone will have a dry cart to use. A woman who visits a neighbor with Alzheimer's in the nursing home every few days, even though that neighbor will never, ever recognize her but likes having someone to eat lunch with.

I'm thankful for people who make time to take time, and who share it in ways, large or subtle, that impact people around them for the better.

What are you thankful for today?