MASHED POTATOES UBER ALLES

As a shameless carb-lover, mashed potatoes trump all other food groups, even perfectly aged and prepared steak from Peter Luger. When I've had the pleasure to dine at this storied steakhouse, I've been known to hungrily eye the side dishes during the ceremonial presentation of prized meat.

Luger’s mashed potatoes have nothing on Jeanne’s. Mom created potatoes with the perfect airy texture including a few lumps to keep things real. Unlike many others, hers also had flavor, thanks to chicken stock. A few minutes of baking added a lovely crust atop these snowy breasts of starch. But I drone on...

When they didn’t think I was listening, my parents would trade tales about building volcanoes out of mashed potatoes and gravy as kids. (Sixteen years apart, my parents came from different generations, yet this stands out in my memory as one of their shared childhood experiences). I never mastered such volcanoes because we didn’t do gravy; empty mounds of potatoes-cum-volcanoes are lame and toothless. Nevertheless, mashed potatoes were my go-to request for birthdays and special occasions.

Of course, Mom left no recipe for something so mundane. She learned her craft from my Irish grandmother, Gert, who often pawned the task off on one of the six offspring. As my Uncle Paul remembers, Gert always said that he made the BEST mashed potatoes, ensuring that he would happily volunteer for potato duty. “I was 35 years old when I realized that I didn’t actually make the best potatoes,” marvels Paul. “I was just a sucker!” Well played, Gert, well played.

With potatoes coursing through my veins, I too make a decent mash. Not only did I observe Mom’s techniques firsthand, but I also inherited the family’s most precious tool: Gert’s potato masher (pictured on left). Fret not. A large fork will do the trick. Here’s what I got:

GERT’S MOUNDS OF MASHED POTATOES

Serve 4 to 6

These measurements are guesstimates. I urge you to play around with them until you hit the texture you like best. The key is to add the liquids in as you are whipping, allowing air to fluff up your taters.

· 6 regular sized, Idaho baking potatoes, peeled and diced into 1-inch cubes

· 3 Tbsp of butter (adjust based on Fear of Fat)

· 1/4 cup of chicken stock

· 1/8 cup of milk or half and half (again adjust according to personal fat anxieties)

· Salt and pepper

Directions:

Boil potatoes until soft and drain

Immediately add ½ amount of butter and smash up with large fork or potato masher

Using either a hand mixer or Kitchen Aid with beater attachment, begin whipping potatoes

As you are whipping, gradually add chicken stock and milk

Keep whipping, scraping down the sides to push back stray lumps, for up to 10 minutes. Until you are satisfied.

Place in baking dish, top with additional butter, and bake at 350 for 10 minutes

Add salt and pepper.

Serve immediately.

Flank Steak: The Other Tortellini

In light of Mom's unstructured approach to cooking, I used to think that recipes were for wimps. Not so, Mom explained to me at one point. The only way to cook without a written recipe is to use so many recipes that you build up a base of knowledge. (Note: Mom was, in fact, an avid student of cookbooks, ranging from Elizabeth David to Sheila Lukins.)She was right. Asian Steak Stir Fry is based on a number of Chinese/Asian recipes I have made over the years. I think it would make Mom proud that I have hit the point of adaptation.

Killing the head of cabbage is not this recipe’s only draw. I also use flank steak, my version of tortellini. It’s cheap, lower in fat, and easy to cook. Plus, you can marinate the hell out of it, and everyone thinks you’re a genius. This is a recipe for when you may not have had the foresight to marinate overnight, but did manage to grab a piece of flank steak on the way home from work.

Play with it as you desire, and write me with what you discovered. Jeanne says, “It’s important to leave room for serendipity!”


Asian Steak Stir Fry
Serves 4

Ingredients:
½ head, cabbage
1 lb, flank steak tastes better if bought fresh, but do what you can…
2 scallions (whites and greens separated)
1 tsp, Canola oil
1 tsp, sesame oil
¼ cup, soy sauce
¼ cup, Sake wine
1 Tbsp, Brown sugar
1 tsp, rice vinegar

Optional:
One beer or glass of wine
Cilantro
Lime

Directions:
Open beer or pour glass of wine. Start drinking. (A little vino always makes cooking more fun!)
Whisk together sesame oil, soy sauce, Sake wine, rice vinegar and brown sugar. Set aside.
Turn stove top to medium high, let heat a minute or two. It should be hot enough to elicit a sizzling sound from steak.
Sear flank steak for less than 1 minute on each side. Move it around to avoid major sticking. Set aside on carving board.
In same pan, cook white part of scallion with Canola oil for 5 minutes, until soft
Add cabbage and toss around
Pour in half of sauce
While cabbage cooks down, slice steak in 2-inch long strips
Add to pan, and pour in other half of sauce
Add green part of scallions
Cook 8 minutes, cover for second 4 minutes.
Spoon stir fry over rice and toss with whatever Asian-inspired garnishes you prefer. Tonight, I am on a Thai kick, so am using cilantro, green scallion and lime. Other nights, I have added Hoisin sauce to sauce mixture and sprinkled sesame seeds. It’s your call.

Sour Cream Chocolate Chip Cake

Baking wasn’t Mom’s thing. The qualities that made her a wonderful improvisational cook led to her downfall as a baker. She didn’t pay much heed to measurements or timing, and was prone to throwing in new ingredients at the last minute. Unfortunately, baking is none too forgiving. It’s a science that hinges upon the chemistry of exact amounts, temperatures and flavors. As a nurse, Mom knew her biology cold, but the chemistry of baking confounded her.

In her quest to provide me with a well-rounded recipe box, Mom included several desserts. Most of them came from close friends and family, whose wisdom I will impart in future blogs. Within that collection of borrowed desserts, she sneaked in this gem — Sour Cream Chocolate Chip Cake.

Aside from providing me with a go-to cake, Mom jotted down these intriguing words: “This is one of the first cakes I ever baked got the recipe from my roommate’s mother, my nursing school roommate!” It may not sound like much, but to me Mom had pressed the ‘play’ button to show an old, undiscovered movie. Jeanne relished in recounting details of her life; I knew her so well –ranging from her shocking irreverence to the Lucille Ball hilarity. Yet, I hadn’t ever met this young (young!) nursing student, enthusiastic to set up her own home. Mom’s hurried note brought us a little closer.

I don’t remember Mom serving this cake. As you can imagine, desserts weren’t big in our house. Yet, oddly enough, I have a vivid recollection of eating a similar cake at my aunt’s house as an after school snack. My aunt (think Martha Stewart armed with a cigarette and an outrageous sense of humor) served it warm, and I can still taste those melty chocolate chips. Kids love this cake. So, when my children asked to participate in Cooking with Jeanne, Sour Cream Cake seemed the most obvious choice.

Determined to buck the non-baking family history, I started out as an organizational diva. As my six-year old read the ingredients, I methodically took each item out and laid it on the counter. The kids greased the pan, and measured out the flour and sugar, while I taught them about fractions (sort of). A Mensa moment, if I ever saw one. That is until I plugged in the Kitchen-Aid, and it mysteriously began spitting out sour cream and flour all over the kitchen walls.

With our Lucy moment behind us, we followed the rest of the steps with relative ease. In the end, our family baking project turned out much like all of the others: The kids argued over taking turns, ate a ton of raw batter and chocolate chips, and lost interest long before the final product was removed from the oven. What’s more, we did not make a perfect specimen. Certain regions of our cake suffer from an overpopulation of chocolate chips, while others look considerably sparse. But you know what? We had an hour’s worth of laughter and fun, and I am enjoying the cake as I type. So, perhaps, Mom was right. Perfect, chemically-balanced baking is overrated.

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Sour Cream Chocolate Chip Cake

¼ lb of butter
1 cup sugar (plus 1 tsp of sugar, set aside)
½ pint of sour cream
2 eggs
1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 cups pre-sifted flour she means unsifted
1 cup Nestle chocolate chips not sure where the brand loyalty came from here; use what you want
1 teaspoon cinnamon

Cream sugar with butter, sour cream, and vanilla. Mix in beaten eggs. Add flour, baking powder, and baking soda. Mix until smooth. Place half batter into greased 9X9 or 8X8 square pan. Sprinkle most of chocolate chips over batter, then cover with remaining batter. Spread remaining chocolate chips on top. Sprinkle remaining sugar and cinnamon on top. Bake for 45 minutes at 350

NOTE: I did not have a 9X9 or 8X8 inch pan, as the recipe recommended. Instead, I used an 8X12 –a mistake because the cake came out more like dessert bars. Next time, I would err on the side of a smaller pan but thicker cake. Also, once again, Mom never mentioned how long or at what temperature to bake. So I tried it at 350 for 30 minutes. (I would do 45 minutes to an hour with a smaller pan).

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POSTSCRIPT: Artichoke Pie

This morning, Chrissie and family joined us to dine on last week's artichoke quiche. We had a blast, and thoroughly enjoyed watching our kids playing together. The quiche was pretty damned good too! My one mistake: I defrosted a bit too late, and wound up baking it longer than I had planned to get it to the right temperate . As a result, the quiche was a bit too liquidy, while the crust was too crispy --but the flavors were just right. Next time, I vow to defrost the night before. There could be another secret to reheating this properly. If so, bring it on!

Cooking With Jeanne

For my wedding shower, my mom put together a collection of recipes from all of the guests. It was hardly an original shower gift, but I loved it just the same. Tucked into the floral box amid several truly useless recipes (Puerto Rican Chicken?), Mom had placed handwritten copies of her recipes –many of which opened a floodgate of childhood memories and nostalgia.

At the time, I didn’t appreciate how precious this gift would become. Seven weeks later, Mom died unexpectedly from a ruthless form of cancer. Her funeral took place roughly one month after our wedding.

The recipe book has become the closest I come to a live conversation with my mom. Anyone who knew her would agree that a conversation with Jeanne was never dull. In her sprawling handwriting, Mom would include little notes about when she cooked this and with whom she ate it. And, just as anyone that Mom knew could predict, her recipes can be unbelievably frustrating. Mom was an excellent but imprecise cook. And she was not a particularly clear writer. So an artichoke quiche works something like this: “Eggs, Artichokes, Dough, Mozzarella Cheese. Cook for a while, until brown.” C’mon Jeanne!!! Work with me, please.” Over the years, cooking from Mom’s recipes has evolved into a culinary mystery, one in which I must try to decode her random scratchings (Does “1 t” mean a teaspoon or Tablespoon? Changes from recipe to recipe) and sometimes add my own interpretation.

Yet whenever I feel like really spending some quality time with Jeanne, I’ll open up that sweet box and begin reading and cooking. Even when she pisses me off, I am guaranteed to feel her presence. And that’s a recipe for joy.

So today, when I began pounding chicken for Jeanne’s Chicken Angelo, I had a small epiphany. Why not make like Julie Powell, and start a culinary tribute/blog to my mom? Instead of slaving over Julia Child’s complex French dishes, I will tackle Mom’s simpler fare ---like meatloaf and sausage with peppers. And, frankly, because my waistline can’t afford it…..I’ll do it once a week, instead of every day. Then I’ll write about it, frustrating directions and all.

CHICKEN ANGELO

April 18, 2010

Obviously I’ll begin with the dish that inspired me: Chicken Angelo, a delectable concoction of breaded chicken breasts, Muenster cheese, and mushrooms baked in chicken broth. I also like to add white wine because, well, everything is better with wine, right?

Mom got this recipe from a friend. But to me, it is purely Jeanne –a hearty Italian chicken dish she served over pasta with a sprinkling of parmesan cheese (See wine theory above, replace “wine” with “parmesan cheese.”) I remember having it for Sunday dinner, and thinking it was so sophisticated because of the mushrooms. In fact, Chicken Angelo was one of the first grown-up dishes I ever cooked for a Sunday dinner.

So, as I eased into this Sunday, Chicken Angelo felt about right. Also, oddly enough, Muenster cheese and mushroom were among the only remaining foods in my fridge. When I pulled mom’s recipe from the box, I was initially impressed with how much detail she actually included. There were measurements and words like “beaten” and “pounded.” Not bad. Then I noticed the baking instructions: No mention of a temperature anywhere. (“It’s 350 degree, of course!” Mom would say with a shrug.) Just like her parenting style, Mom cooked by instinct.

Here’s her recipe verbatim, and I added my own adjustments in red.

4 Chicken Cutlets, pounded into thin pieces

1 cup Seasoned Bread Crumbs

3 Eggs beaten

1 stick of butter/olive oil (Thought 1 stick of butter was a bit excessive. Tried to limit myself to 1 Tablespoon oil, but wound up at 3 Tablespoons of olive oil/1 Tablespoon of butter. “Don’t kid yourself, Amy. This is no Cooking Light,” says Jeanne)

¾ pound of Muenster (With only two slices of Muenster, I put a bit of mozzarella in there. Fine.)

1 can of chicken broth (She means a small soup can size)

¼ pound fresh mushrooms

½ cup of white wine (Used a Riesling, which I thought may have been ill-conceived, but tasted just about right when I swigged it out of the bottle. Mom approves.)

Soak chicken in egg – 2 hours

Coat and crumb and brown in olive oil/butter.

Place in baking dish, cover with cheese and mushroom. Pour broth over all. (I actually browned the breaded chicken in the baking dish, and removed. Then I deglazed the pan with the wine, scraping up the brown bits. Let the wine cook down until about ¼ cup remained. Then I added the chicken, cheese, mushrooms and broth) Cover with foil and bake (at 350 degrees) Uncover & bake ½ hour to brown and bubbly.