Biscotti As the New Little Black Dress

Rob and I are traveling down this weekend to the fabulous casa de Mindy K. (and roommate Mallory) for a holiday cocktail party. It's pretty major - he's even promised to dig out a tie for the event, and this is a man who hates ties with a passion and a vengeance, so much to the point that he was going to petition to ban them in the office. I for one am rather excited, because I like ties. Then again, I don't have to wear one.
I did, however, have to find just the right hostess gift for the event: a homemade edible, able to withstand travel, and suitably dressy enough to impress for the occasion. These beautiful, bite-size biscotti caught my eye, and I am oh-so-glad.

Better than a traditional cracker or cheese straw, savory biscotti is a new avenue for me - but I already have plans to make them again next week to bring home for Christmas Eve nibbles. Like the quintessential little black dress, these are going to be my new go-to for swank functions and events. They'd be wonderful with just about any appetizer spread, fancy or not, but I think they'll be right at home debuting at a semi-formal affair. The small biscotti are crisp and golden-brown, flecked throughout and on top with coarse pepper and shreds of Parmesan to offset the spice. Not much more time-consuming than regular biscotti - they do take a bit, but well worth the investment.

PARMESAN BLACK-PEPPER BISCOTTI
just barely tweaked from Gourmet, December 2006

1 Tbsp and 2 tsp whole black peppercorns
4 c all-purpose flour
2 tsp baking powder
2 tsp salt
2 1/4 c grated Parmesan (I used a Grana Padano)
1 1/2 sticks (3/4 c ) cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes
4 large eggs
1 c whole milk

Put oven racks in upper and lower third of oven and preheat oven to 350 F.
Place 2 cups of grated Parmesan into a large bowl. Using a pepper mill to produce coarse grinds, grind 1 Tbsp of the whole peppercorns into the bowl; toss to mix. Whisk in the flour, baking powder and salt into the cheese mixture and make sure it's well combined. Blend in the butter with a pastry blender until the mixture resembles fine meal. Whisk 3 of the eggs with the milk and add to a well in the flour mixture. Stir with a fork until a soft dough forms.
Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and quarter dough. Flour hands and form each quarter into a slightly flattened 12-inch-long log (about 2 inches wide and 3/4 inch high). Transfer logs to 2 large ungreased baking sheets.
Grind the remaining 2 tsp peppercorns into a bowl with the remaining 1/4 c cheese and toss to combine. Whisk remaining egg and brush some over logs, then sprinkle tops of logs evenly with cheese mixture. Bake, rotating the sheets 180 degrees and switching position of sheets halfway through baking, until logs are pale golden and firm, about 30 minutes total. Cool logs to warm on sheets on a rack, about 10 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 300 F while logs are cooling.
Carefully transfer a warm log to a cutting board and cut diagonally into 1/2-inch-thick slices with a serrated knife. Arrange slices, cut sides down, in a single layer on baking sheet. Repeat with remaining logs and transfer slices to sheets. Bake, turning over once, until golden and crisp, 35 to 45 minutes total. Cool biscotti on baking sheets on racks, about 15 minutes.
Keep in an airtight container at room temperature.
Mine yielded a little less than the given estimate - maybe about 4 1/2 dozen biscotti.

Retro Recipe: Scarlett O'Hara

A Scarlett O'Hara, according to legend, was created in 1939 as a tie-in or tribute for Gone With The Wind, and the first drink created for that purpose. (There is also a site I found that suggests it may actually have been more like the 1950s, and for promoting cran juice instead of the movie, but this is less interesting and so I'm ignoring it.) This was the first time I'd learned of the drink, but I was instantly captivated by the name and the playful use of Southern Comfort.
This month's Retro Recipe Challenge is Boozy Holiday. I've determined that a Scarlett in hand is perfect for the holidays - with it you can conjure up Scarlett's willful selfishness and wonderful denial of reality: "I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow." If it's been quite the distressing day you may start to channel your inner Rhett Butler: "I'm very drunk and I intend on getting still drunker before this evening's over." And of course, it gives you license to say quite freely, "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn!" to almost anything - and (feel like you can) get away with it. All very good mantras to get you through.
My first attempt at a Scarlett came from Webtender (1.5 oz each Southern Comfort and cranberry juice, 1 oz lime juice), which turned out to be wayyy too limey for my taste - and I like lime. I evened mine out with just a touch more of SoCo and filled the glass with cranberry juice, which seemed to make an admirable drink, but you can also check here and here for other suggested proportions. I also made mine with light cranberry juice already lurking around in the fridge, and it amuses me to dub it a Scarlett O'Hara in a Corset.
Classy-sounding and classic, suitably retro, somewhat scarlet, and boozy-sweet with a tart kick going down, I highly recommend it.

Tag: RRC 5

Lunchbox: Broccoli Rabe, Cannellini and Chicken Sausage

Application status: DONE for Friday, minus the receipt of transcripts (slightly worrisome). Days until next due date: 27.

I haven't had broccoli rabe in ages, but got a major craving for it last week. So be it, I said, and went off in search of the rabe.
The only times I've had broccoli rabe was how my mother made it, and she got the idea from an Italian coworker who simply steamed it in the microwave and then sauteed it in uber-garlicked olive oil and finished it with fresh lemon juice. Anemia runs in my family, so we indulged any leafy green veggie ideas, even though the rabe seemed to differ vastly in bitterness depending on the batch.
Oddly enough, the dish I ended up going for never used broccoli rabe at all; it had escarole, but it was one of my mother's favorites as well. I guess in some senses that makes this comfort food, with all the home memories flooding back, and that was probably more what I really wanted. I blame the applications for my sudden overbearing nostalgia.

My mother's dish, which I believe but am not certain hails from Joy of Cooking, was an oriechette pasta dish, with crumbled pork sausage, cannellini and the escarole. To adapt it for the lunchbox, I nixed the pasta and focused on the broccoli rabe itself as the main component. I kept the cannellini, but switched to chicken sausage, and presto, homecooked hearty winter meal for the week, and it turned out to be exactly what I wanted.

a work in progress: beans and greens in a tupperware throne.

The broccoli rabe has a really minerally taste to it but this one isn't bitter - I don't know whether I can attribute this to my awesome cooking skills or whether it's the batch. This particular one was already washed, cut, and bagged - I'm slightly apprehensive about bagged vegs at the moment, given all the press this year, but this does make the whole task infinitely easier. The disadvantage is you then cannot cook the stems separately from the leaves, but it's not troubling me any. Crucial to this are the lemon juice and saltiness, both of which reduce the bitter taste of the broccoli rabe.

BROCCOLI RABE, CANNELLINI AND CHICKEN SAUSAGE

2 Tbsp olive oil
2 12-oz bags pre-washed and cut broccoli rabe
2 Tbsp lemon juice plus more as needed
1 15-oz can cannellini beans, well rinsed and drained
3/4 c reduced sodium low fat chicken broth
5 chicken sausages (12 oz total), any flavor, but I like garlicky or Italian-style ones for this
reduced-fat parmesan cheese
salt and pepper to taste

In a large pot heat the olive oil over medium-high heat. Add the broccoli rabe, as much as will fit in the pot at a time, stirring to wilt it down so you can add more - if you haven't got a large enough pot (I used a 5 qt sautuesse) just do it in batches, and add it all back to the pot once cooked.
Meanwhile, start the chicken sausages in a grill pan or skillet over medium-high heat. Grill or brown well on all sides.
Sprinkle over the lemon juice and season well with salt or pepper, toss to combine. Pour in the chicken broth and add the beans to the pot, mix well. Let the mixture come to a simmer, reduce heat until at a gentle simmer, and cover the pot to let cook for just on three minutes (there may be some liquid left; add it in spoonfuls to your container to keep each portion moist when reheating for lunch). Carefully taste and adjust the lemon and pepper. Remove broccoli rabe mixture to a bowl to cool a bit.
For each portion: take the broccoli rabe mixture and sprinkle in some of the parmesan; mix well. Slice one of the chicken sausages and add to your container. Cover when reheating.

Close the refrigerator door - there's salad dressing!

This post has two purposes: to wax poetic about how absolutely wonderful clementines are, and to brag that I made salad dressing.
First off, the clementines. They have to be my favorite winter fruit, and are doubly exciting because no citrus fruit has yet to win me over quite like them. I can never get into oranges fully because they take too much effort for too little reward, tangerines have seeds, grapefruits have their moments but not enough of them, and while I love lemons and limes I can't eat them quite like a clementine. No, I am convinced that clementines are pretty much darn near perfection, easy and quick to peel, generally seedless, sweet as anything, and still fruit, therefore, it can't be a bad thing. I was talking with Sara about this last night and we agreed pretty much the only downfall is that they have yet to figure out how to get them year-round.
Now that I've got that out of my system . . .

The other winter fruit I adore are cranberries. I generally like really tart things, so whole fresh cranberries don't bother me and I like storing them in the freezer, where they keep for ages, so I can make cranberry scones and muffins (and I know I want to get to Peabody's Cinnamon Cranberry Cake and Rachel's Cranberry Bread, and right now I'm going through a loaf of Cranberry-Dark Chocolate Chip Pumpkin Bread - yum yum yum) throughout the year. But there's not much of a venue for poor cranberries outside of cranberry sauce and baked goods.
Enter food processor. Food processors are my equivalent of a power tool: I don't use it nearly as often as I might want to, though it's indispensable when I need it, and really, it's kind of a thrill to lug out this big huge thing that makes a deep loud noise and finishes the job in seconds. Though that's probably just me.
Though I originally made the dressing for a salad with apple slices and baked goat cheese, as I discovered last night it is also fantastic tossed in a salad with some clementine slices, scallions, reduced-fat parm and walnuts - looks a bit psychedelic, but tastes great. I do recommend making it at least a day ahead, so the tartness comes out nicely - if you're making it to serve right away, I'd reduce the oil down to about 1/2 cup.

CRANBERRY VINAIGRETTE
adapted from Bon Appetit, November 1995

1/4 c fresh or frozen and thawed cranberries
1/4 c orange muscat champagne vinegar
1 large shallot, chopped
1 Tbsp brown sugar
1 tsp Dijon mustard
3/4 c grapeseed oil
salt and pepper to taste

Puree cranberries in processor until smooth. Add the vinegar, shallot, brown sugar and mustard and process until well blended. With processor running, gradually add oil and process until well blended. Transfer to bowl. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Refrigerate, covered, for at least a day before using. Whisk well before serving.
Yield is about 1 1/4 cups dressing.

Baked Is Better

Gosh, it feels like it's been a while. I wish I could blame it on being busy with the grad applications, the first round of which are now due in twelve days, and say I've been running here and there frantically trying for last-minute polishing of boasts . . . but to be perfectly honest, I alternate between an alarming panic and a blissful apathy towards applications, and have not really looked at them at all since the last round of personal statement edits. However I feel about them at the given time, busy doesn't really describe it.
It occurred to me I just haven't done much cooking these past two weeks. This is, in part, from knowing that I'd get in from Erie superlate after Thanksgiving, not have the time to cook and so relied on leftovers from the freezer all last week. But this is also in part due to the lame, half-assed effort I've been making to not be so lazy when I get in from work at night. This has resulted in less time in front of the computer, less time at the stove, and more time, ironically, in front of my television, kickboxing and Pilateing my way along with the woman on the screen. This marks an landmark exciting week seven of that, and I've peppered in some changes in eating habits, which has led me to the conclusion that (a) everything I know about food cravings and monotonous diet is absolutely true (b) there are definitely not enough low-fat reduced-sodium soups on the market and (c) reduced-fat mozzarella, especially when it comes in those nifty string cheese forms in perfect pre-packaged one-ounce servings, is really and truly offensive to the dairy industry as a whole.
Happily, I have discovered Hungry Girl, and she is showing me the alternatives that don't suck.
I won't lie to you - I was somewhat intimidated initially. At first glance, the moniker evokes some really awful superhero image I still can't quite get past. At first read, she has Rachael Ray's insane enthusiasm, peppering words like "Whooo!" into reviews of fat-free ice cream and throwing out recipes for mashed faux-tatoes.

But I really have to give it to her on the onion rings. As soon as I saw her description, I wanted them so bad. While they're not quite her version given what I had on hand (and I don't know how that alters them nutritionally), they're still the baked-not-fried and lighter than the usual, so it seems a good start. Usually, baked-not-fried is an awful tease of a food for me, because it doesn't come close enough to mimicking the food to be satisfying. Her replacement and alteration technique I don't think would work for everything (in my mind, there is simply no point to calling it a chicken sandwich if there's no chicken), but she is absolutely right here - these are super-easy, and actually better than the fried ones. I kid you not. I even went ahead and double-dipped some (egg, breadcrumb, more egg, more breadcrumb) but preferred the single-coated ones. Double-dipped look more like typical onion rings, but single-coat is crunchier.
Amazing.