Cooking With Ideas

Dana Cree & Ice Cream

I am a lucky person. I know that, despite my occasional whining, whinging and . . . depression. I am a lucky person. Today's reason for thinking that? I have not only had the pleasure of meeting Dana Cree (two time James Beard nominated pastry chef)  -- but I have eaten her creations both at Blackbird and, once upon a time, a wedding cake at a mutual friend's . . . wedding. (Need I say the wedding cake was the most amazing thing ever, both in appearance and taste? It was much more than a traditional set of layers -- it was a gingerbread sculpture in many many ways -- and both the appearance and the taste layering were amazing. Appearance AND taste -- a not so usual wedding cake review.)  And, Dana is nice. Once upon a time my partner and I were at Blackbird, having met her  once through that same mutual friend who got married, and a special dessert for my partner (whose capacity to consume gluten is very limited to nonexistent) arrived out of the blue. That dessert was beautiful and tasty and memorable.  

Dana is both an inspiring foodie with serious professional chops and more. 

Why is she on my mind today (and yes, today is, as always on this blog, a date highly likely to be unrelated to when this blog is posted let alone when you, dear reader, read it!)? Well two reasons: (a) I am procrastinating and (b) I know Dana's book on ice cream is coming to a Chicago location for a book signing April 9 nor to mention a March 28 event. Hmmm. (Planning to go, bibliochef? If I get there I will do a blog entry friends!)  Having had a very intriguing conversation about ice cream with Dana at the aforementioned wedding, I am really interested in reading (and maybe even using) her book. The conversation bridged science, practicalities of a business, and the question of why ice cream intrigues Dana. It made me want to go on learning from her. 

I might order the book. Indeed, I might. Meanwhile, a few articles on Dana appear below and one video -- and I am back to what I was avoiding by doing this entry:

Chicago Tribune reporting on her return to the "blackbird family"

Dana's words at a blog entitled The Pastry Department  (including a very inspiring entry on setting goals which I wish I had read years ago and will learn from today and into the future) 

And, for ice cream tips from the pros, try this video:

 

 

 

 

A Taste of Haida Gwaii

This reflection is on the one and only cookbook that I have read cover to cover. I have read -- well, not every word, because I have not read the index -- almost every word. And I can say this: this is a cookbook as more than a cookbook, as a piece of literature, with recipes. And it is a terrific book. It's full title is A Taste of Haida Gwaii: Food Gathering and Feasting at the Edge of the World (publisher Whitecap Books) and it is authored by Susan Musgrave. 

Let me be clear. This was a gift and it arrived some time ago. I read about half of it, then got into life's little zoo-eyness -- and just returned to it a bit ago to complete it. I am very glad I did. It is calming, it is engrossing, it is humorous and serious, and it is about how we live in the world without being pretentious or bothersome. While it is a book about living in a particular place -- one I had never heard of until the gift arrived -- it is also, I have to admit, about living. And, though I may have vaguely heard of Susan Musgrave before reading this (I am not sure), I now know her as a Canadian poet who runs a B and B in a far away place called Haida Gwaii. There she has hosted Margaret Atwood and Pierre Trudeau and David Suzuki; clearly I am the last to know (kidding). I am amazingly grateful for the gift of this book and for the gift of Musgrave's words. 

Where is Haida Gwaii? Here is what it says right inside the book: "a remote archipelago that lies equidistant from Luxor (6200 km), Machu Pichu (5000 km), Ninevah (7600 km) and Timbuktu (5000 km). If this does not help, Haida Gwaii is in the Moresby Islands. If this does not help, these are the once Queen Charlotte Islands. And, if you still need help (as I did), think British Columbia and then go kind of west. Kind of un-cosmopolitan and need a US reference? south of Alaska's border with BC, but not by much. As noted on page 9, the phrase Haida Gwaii means "islands of the people in the Haida language. 

Who is Susan Musgrave? She is a Canadian writer with 19 books of poetry (the best title, I have to admit is Origami Dove and I shall be reading that soon), four works of fiction, and much more, including children's books. I have a faint idea I have heard her voice on CBC since google tells me she "defended" a book of poetry in the 2006 version of Canada Reads, but I might be making that up to make myself feel better for only now encountering her work. Not the least interesting thing about her, which she seems to assume everyone who reads the book I am thinking about here, is that her husband spent a some time in prison, for bank robbery. I did not know that. Again, perhaps the last to know. This is her homepage where you can learn that being married to a bank robber is not the only interesting biographical detail relevant to Musgrave. One thing that is definitely clear: Susan Musgrave has both a sense of humor, a love of life (that includes both foraging and cooking), and an amazing way with words. 

Musgrave also runs a B and B, as I noted above. It is called Copper Beech Guest House. Originally owned by a friend of Musgrave's, who was the host of Pierre and Margaret Trudeau, she purchased it at his death in 2010 or so. 

 Finally, what about the book beyond what you have read so far? Musgrave weaves together a variety of strands -- about her life in Haida Gwaii and the area's history and topography with reflections about foraging and foods. Ranging from clamming to uses of wild rose petals, from salmonberries to salmon, from rhubarb and cloudberries to spruce tips, she takes one out into the landscape of Haida Gwaii. By including both things that drift in -- from shipwrecked and more -- and purchased items, she gives a sense of eating there by both happenstance and intention. (The things that drift in -- again quite literally -- are amazingly odd ranging from doritos to booze. There is a wry humor and deep seriousness to what Musgrave tells about this place where she has chosen to live since the 1970s, and where, oddly, I felt recognized (despite the reality that I have never and will never live in such a fireplace). Her recipes, like the multitude of photographs on every page, bring forward a full life in an isolated place and its values, a full life that truly shows us (as Musgrave says somewhere but I cannot now locate), that those not on Haida Gwaii are really those who risk isolation in some sense, who are away. 

I liked this book so much I started looking at travel plans. I am probably not going to make it -- but in my imagination, I have already. And some day, I may make the recipes, which range from hot smoked salmon to some delightful things to do with chanterelles. And, Musgrave's attitude toward quinoa -- well, that probably tells me the most about my own need for some serious food self reflection. How much, she seems to ask, are we driven by fad -- and fad by the power of marketing -- and how much by where we are, what we want, and the jovial possibilities of our environs. 

Thank you, Susan Musgrave. Thank you, Betty, for the gift. 

Diane Mott Davidson -- A Cookbook!

Once in a while, I get mail -- real mail, not bills and not junk mail, but mail. And, on occasion, that mail is a book. So, a few weeks ago, I arrived to the mailbox to find a package slip, and the package contained Goldy's Kitchen Cookbook, subtitled Cooking, Writing, Family, Life. There it was, free, and there it was, beckoning me to read it (or at least peruse it) immediately. 

I held out for 15 minutes. And then I opened this: 

(Image source: chacabooks.over-blog.com) 

I read all of the bits that precede sections of the cookbook. Each one is a brief (all too brief) bit on writing, on cooking, on family, and on life. Surprising, given the subtitle, right? The tone was chatty, and I did get some insight into a few things, most crucially why the author chose to have Goldy, the main character of her murder mysteries, be a survivor (most definitely not a victim) of spousal abuse. 

So, you have never heard of Goldy? She is the main character -- and amateur sleuth -- in around 20 mysteries written by Diane Mott Davidson, set in Aspen Meadows Colorado. Goldy runs a catering company, and encounters all sorts of dandy murders and mayhem in the course of her work, sometimes but not always being a suspect in said mayhem, and always getting in a tad over her head in trying to sort the mysteries through. The mysteries include recipes and, as has apparently become definitive of the genre, titles that are a tad punny. Her first novel in the series was published in 1990 and the final one (we think) entitled The Whole Enchilada in 2013. I have reviewed one or two of her cozy/foodie mysteries here on Cooking with Ideas, as regular readers will know. (See here or here.) 

So: Goldy's Kitchen is a surprisingly thorough and useful cookbook. I admit I expected it to be only fluff, reproducing the recipes from the mysteries and cashing in on their popularity. Obviously true. But, the bits of memoir actually call out for more from Davidson; what she says is interesting. I just wanted more, and more depth. Perhaps that is a consequence of the foodie genre -- or the series genre -- where leaving someone wanting more is a good thing. I was also somewhat surprised (in a positive way) by the range of recipes -- including low carb and gluten free options. I knew that there would be vegetarian options, given that a main character in the novels is her assistant, Julian, who is a vegetarian! But I was pleased by the additional dietary options. I admit that I have read fewer of the recipes than the memoir bits (I have read all the memoir bits. Did I say that already?) -- but I look forward to continuing to peruse them at my leisure. 

Want more? 

Here is a piece from the Denver Post when Mott Davidson published The Whole Enchilada which includes a tale also told in the memoir section of the cookbook -- about calling her wedding off. (SPOILER ALERT: She did not.)  And here is a bit of a bio of Mott Davidson, including her experience at Wellesley which she attended with a current Democrat -- who tried to recruit her into the Young Republicans. Hmmm. 

Monday Morning Cooking Club

Mondays are not my favorite mornings. Well, it might be more honest to say mornings are not my best time of day. So, the title of this book is not what drew me to it when it arrived (free) in the mail. Rather, it is the ways the women who constituted this club -- and published this volume, originally in Australia and then in the US -- see themselves as weaving together sisterhood, food, and stories. The women, from various ethnic Jewish backgrounds in Sydney's diverse community -- are what makes the story. (Not to mention that Nigella Lawson likes the book -- as does Nicole Kidman.) So, Monday Morning Cooking Club it is. 

The book is organized sort of like a series of monologues -- it is divided not by kinds of food, but into sections for each of the women (and the women who matter to them) who is in the club. (Is that bad grammar or what?) Tales of the women, including their relation to food and their roles in families, are followed by recipes. The tone is chatty, warm, and, well, I am not sure that the stories matter as much in terms of their substance as that the tone is =, as Lawson says, "cosy." The book is clearly trying to give you the impression that you are there, with the women, in the cooking club. 

The recipes range from pavlova for honey cake to zserbo, from Asian style snapper to Indian style curry and then onwards to perogen, ulnyik and much more. Desserts, mains, salads, soups, and sides are intermingled. And, the overall range reminds us of generational difference -- and the varieties of routes or travels that inform the diasporic Judaism of Sydney, Australia. (For information on Judaism in Sydney, and Australia more generally, click here.) Ethnicities represented include areas from within eastern and western Europe, India, Syria, Iraq and . . beyond. 

As a side note, these women really push the boundaries as they are also a not for profit and 100% of the profits from the book go to charity. This certainly trumps all those places and businesses that give a much tinier percentage and limit themselves to a maximum that is an even smaller percentage of their overall profit. Hurrah. 

Superfood Kitchen

I was walking through a higher education conference's halls, and there was a cookbook out entitled Superfood Kitchen. Why? Because how we feed college and university students (and all citizens) is increasingly a concern. And, companies that are interested in gleaning the business of colleges know that students actually pick places in part because of the amentities (e.g., food service) and politics (e.g., the presence of green practices or...gasp, health food). I was honest. No chance at all that I would be hiring them. They were kind. So, now I own a (free) copy of Superfood Kitchen by Julie Morris. and you, lucky readers, get to hear a bit from me on the book. 

First: what on earth are superfoods? In my view, the term is a "re-branding" of foods that have been around or around us for a long time. They are a way of saying "eat this" within the context of too many possibilities, the ways capitalism has moved us away from our food sources, and the ways education has deprived us of knowledge about what we ought eat -- or ought not eat. So: superfoods are berries, seeds, fruits, roots, vegetables with, as the back fo Morris's bok says, "remarkable powers to heal and energize." What the book -- and a beautiful one at that -- does is redefine our pantry to include more of these, and thus to help us eat in more healthy ways in somewhat easier ways. 

The recipes seem easy, and the pictures make the notions presented pretty (and thus attractive). So far, so ordinary 21st century cookbook.  Ingredients? THey range from quinoa (which I admit has already entered my diet for a different reason: it tastes good), to beets (ditto), dates (ditto), and other familiar foods to items that remain a mystery to me (or I have only heard of): coconut oil, dulse, sacha inci, etcetera. What distinguuishes the book, really, is the choice of ingredients, so the latter is important. 

Will I cook from this? I might just do that. Have I? No. The real reason: the notion of superfood itself somehow puts me off. I eat well. I go to farmers markets, urchase organic, eat a lot of the things here. So, I admit it: I am not sure why. But: it feels hokey. So, given my prejudice, I include some other reviews below. Go for it! 

 

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Review | Superfood Kitchen by Julie Morris

Cook the Books: Superfood Kitchen

Monday Morning Cooking Club

No, I am not starting a cooking club. This is the title of a lovely book that came in the mail from Harper Collins. Yes, Monday Morning Cooking Club, subtitled the food, the stories, the sisterhood. It emerges from a group of Sydney (yes, Australia) Jewish women who began meeting on Monday's in 2006. They sought out recipes -- through email and other means, and spent 3 years trying them out, refining them, and, eventually, undertaking this book. The book is a delight -- its recipes are dandy (and include a flourless almond florentine that someone I know will love), and the stories are well-told. They range -- from tales of grandmothers and migration, from lives lived in Shanghai or Russia to Poland or South Africa or the Netherlands, spiced with curry or mint or ginger. 

The book is effective at carrying its message that food is about more than survival -- it is about the soul. What I like about this is that the book is not preachy in any way; it simply reaches out to the reader in a somewhat (oddly) kind way that is nearly tangible. The photography, by the way, is also a delight. I love it that on page 77 one writer notes that her grandmother made strudel -- and that she pronounced it 'schtroodel" -- something that makes me think with fondness of a recently deceased family member.

So: this is a dandy book. I will continue to read it fondly -- and unlike some, I am likely to make recipes from it. I hope you do too.

The Duke's Kitchen (And This is NOT about my Alma Mater)

My alma mater is Duke University, hence the play on words. But, as noted in the title, this entry has absolutely nothing to do with Duke in that sense. Instead, it is a review of a cookbook received in the mail entitled The Duke's Kitchen. The subtitle: "The Complete Book of Vegetarian Italian Cooking." 

Why the "duke's" table? Because the author, as listed on the cover is Enrico Alliata, the Duke of Salapurata a chap who lived from 1879-1946. According to the back of the book, it is a "major rediscovery" from a "utopian gourmand and winemaker" who believed vegetarianism was the way to go. The Duke is famous, turns out -- of various of these dukes are -- for various reasons having to do with wine and food. (Click here for some information.) 

The recipes contained here range from the very simple -- e.g., cooking two kinds of beans, adding olive oil and salt, and serving on greens -- voila (yes, wrong lingo) -- bean salad -- to more complex possibilities. I look forward to reading about the risottos - and may try some of the recipes! (I seem to be back to really wanting to cook. Hmmm.) Most crucially, I think, not all recipes require pasta, so there is much to offer someone not eating wheat here. (All too often, pasta is the veg option in restaurants, and so if you are a gluten or wheat free vegetarian, you are in trouble.) 

Plus, the recipes are numbered. Odd, but useful. 

So: thanks to Melville House for this lovely book -- both personally, and for veg italians everywhere. 

 

The American Antiquarian Cookbook Collection

As you all know, I often receive things for this blog in the mail, provided gratis. That is the case with the four books I am reviewing here. I received 2 ages ago -- exactly when I can no longer say. Then, I received two more and -- voila -- it reminded me to get to the task (a very fun one) of reviewing the prior two as well. I love such mail -- and such tasks -- and am excited to share this bit with you. 

The four books are:

1. Seventy-Five Receipts for Pastry, Cakes & Sweetmeats authored by Eliza Leslie (with an introduction by Dorie Greenspan)

2. The Virginia Housewife by Mrs. Mary Randolph (with an introduction by Nathalie Dupree)

3. The Frugal Housewife by Lydia Maria Child (with an introduction by Barbara Fairchild)

and 4) The Picayune's Creole Cook Book from The Picayune (with an introduction by John Besh). 

Each is dandy, and makes me think different things. Let us begin with what they have in common.

The series brings back into print books that have influenced the history of cookbooks -- not surprising given the overall series title. And, each is introduced by a current "foodie" -- chef, whatever. There are similarities in appearance; while each is a different color, each is solid colored hards back with gold print on the cover. And, inside, they look a tad similar as well: as high end photocopies (or photo-reproductions) of original texts. complete with copyright page, sometimes the original price etc. Put in more fancy lingo: they are facsimiles. They have built in bookmarks (the same color as the binding). The introductions are brief (very) -- and thus limited in their utility. One gets the sense that, perhaps, they are there simply to allow the author's name to appear entangled with the book. Hmmm.

Having said that, the books are kind of cool. Let me look at them seriatum.

1. Seventy-Five Receipts for Pastry, Cakes & Sweetmeats authored by Eliza Leslie (with an introduction by Dorie Greenspan)

A mere glance at this says -- that it is not a new book, since we have stopped using the word receipts and begun using recipes osme time ago. Though I had not heard of this one, I was right! Originally published in 1828, it was (according to the blurb) "the first cookbook dedicated solely to baking, and the first recipe collection organized by listing ingredients at the beginning of each recipe, instead of interspersed throughout the directions)." Wowzers. I am always amazed when I discover that something so taken-for-granted had an origin, a first time, so to speak. Also notable, of course, is the "fact" that it is American. 

For a tiny tidbit of experiential commentary: did you know that cocoa-nut is how she spells coconut? Wonder when that changed. And, I love her pseudonym: A Lady from Philadelphia. 

Dorie Greenspan is, of course, a nted cookbook author of our time and blogger about baking. (Click here for her blog.) 

 

2. The Virginia Housewife by Mrs. Mary Randolph (with an introduction by Nathalie Dupree) seemed somehow familiar to me when I looked at it. It was initially published (again according to the blurb) in Washington, DC, in 1824. One thing I like: the original subtitle? "Methodicval Cook." Epigram (on the front page: "Method is the Soul of Management." I think it is intriguing that she wrote that it is the soul of management not cooking. Hmmm. The housewife is more than a cook. 

Here too we have an introduction from a notable contemporary foodie. In this case, the introduction is a tad longer -- and more informative. Here, for example, we do note that slavery was . . . real. 

3. The Frugal Housewife by Lydia Maria Child (with an introduction by Barbara Fairchild)

This book has nothing in common with my immediate word association to The Frugal Gourmet except the word frugal. And, perhaps the notion (as its author says" of being "Dedicated to Those Who Are Not Ashamed of Economy." (That would include. . . . me.) Of equal note is that the author was involved in abolitionism and women's ribhts -- mid-19th century concerns that remain quite important today for all who care about human rights. This is a 1829 Boston book, and is written in a substantially more discursive form than the books above (and any cook book one might buy today, except those what embed recipes within narratives, histories, etcetera.)I love the following opening sentece:

    "The true economy of housekeeping is simply the art of gathering up all the fragments, so that nothing be lost." 

That may be the true art of many enterprises. . . . 

4) The Picayune's Creole Cook Book from The Picayune (with an introduction by John Besh)

This final book is the largest of the four I received, and bright orange. Very bright orange. The Picayune, of course, is the newspaper -- and the cookbook came from the newspaper! Not surprisingly for a book attached to the name John Besh, or with the word creole in its title, this is a book that focuses on the New Orleans (and related areas) region. It was originally published in 1901, so the only twentieth century book reviewed here -- and yet, as Besh notes, the tome is a "time capsule" in many ways.  THe Picayune, by the way, is now the Times-Picayune). Among the notable tidbits: (a) all recipes are for a family of 6; there is a terrific section (very very early on) on creole coffee; and the phrasing of sadness about the passing of "old negro cooks" includes the word "mammies." I particularly like the chapter on varieties of seasonal fruit and vegetables to be found at various times in the New Orleans market. 

All in all these boks are fun. Will I cook from them? Will you? Not sure. But: if you care about the history of what we love -- cooking -- these will intrigue you. And, they are a great project of the American Antiquarian Society. 

 

Deviled Eggs are a Favorite of Mine. . . .

D'Lish Deviled Eggs came in the mail some time ago, and it has been sitting there, waiting, waiting, waiting to be reviewed. I think of it often as I truly like deviled eggs. The book (and yes, it is a book, not a case of deviled eggs) is subtitled "a collection of recipes from creative to classic" and that is exactly what it is. Authored by Kathy Casey, the little book has a cover -- back and front -- adorned with pictures of, well, this will not surprise you": deviled eggs. Most notably, they are eggs filled neatly, probably using a pastry gizmo. Since the book comes from Andrew McMeel, of course it is nice to look at.

For a change, I have really looked at the recipes, and yes, the subtitle does it justice. What happens when you think about various other classics and -- think of deviled eggs -- and then combine them into something tasty. What happens when egg means MORE than merely hen's eggs (chickens that is), but also duck and quali, for example. What happens when you consider the possibility of moving past whatever your usual deviled eggs are for brunch - and look at the menus of themed deviled eggs available here. 

What happens for me? I smile. 

My own usuals involve hot mango chutney or mustard or dill (and, of course, the ubiquitous mayonnaise). But these offer both options -- and inspiration. Like deviled eggs, what we have here is both retro and . . . today-ish. 

So, do I recommend this? Yes, I do. And, I recommend it to both those who love to cook and those who, seeing a six burner GE monogram in their kitchen think "hard boiled eggs." The options vary by what is added (e.g., salsa and tapenade) or used to garnish (steak?). And, perhaps most importantly, when you read this you will be inspired to add to your usuals -- from the book itself or from your own imagination. 

 Not all inspirations are equal, of course. So, below there is a related article which may be the only time in my entire life when the notion of adding bacon and chocolate, well, not only does not seem wonderful but kind of puts me off. It's title: Chocolate Bacon Deviled Eggs. The recipe is NOT from the book reviewed here -- it is included just to make clear that I am not always positive about every conceivable recipe. 

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Chocolate Bacon Deviled Eggs

Japanese Farm Food

This is a topic I know less than nothing about: Japanese Farm Food. So, why am I writing about it? Well, Andrews McMeel sends me cookbooks (not a surprise to regular readers). Sometimes they are smallish, targeted ones. And sometimes they are wonderfully lush books. This is one of the latter. So: I have read lots of it. And, I initially thought I would pass it along to someone who knows -- and likely cares -- more about Japanese food. But now I am not sure.

But I can say this: from the cover -- with a beautifully spare bittersweet picture to the foreword by Patricia Wells to the author's commitment (Nancy Singleton Hachisu), this is a wonderful book. The photographs, as is often though not always  the case with Andrews McMeel books, are especially worth exclaiming over in this case. (They were taken by Kenji Miura.) And the web presence is dandy: here is the related site called Japanese Farm Food. Nancy Singleton Hachisu is also connected, as the foreword by Wells hints, to the food movement internationally. She is a force in Japan's Slow Food Convivium (in this regard, see this piece) , but also as a person with significant links in San Francisco is linked to Alice Waters, has been off to Italy where the Slow Food movement has its "origin" and. . . . reflects in wonderful ways on being a westerner who lives and loves and has children and farms and cooks and . . . . in Japan, and in rural Japan at that. 

Perhaps it is the rural focus that makes me think I might keep this book. I initially brought stereotypes to the table (as it were!) and assumed this would be way over my head. But, in some ways, it is just about vegetables and fish, cooked in a range of ways, with a range of particular seasonings that mean Japan (and/or Japanese rural food). I can do that, I said to myself, while reading -- if I can do X I can do Y. Who knew? 

And, the delightful pictures teach you a bit about farming in Japan -- including not only rice farming but other aspects as well. 

Among the things hidden in this book are fish patties, beef and onions with ginger, and a full page of explanation of artisanal charcoal. There are discussions of fish mongers and recipes for curry rice or fried rice of various sorts. It is do-able even if I never truly get what the various ingredients are in terms of seasoning. (For example, tehre is a brown sugar, and the directions say quite distinctly: DO NOT SUBSTITUTE AMERICAN BROWN SUGAR, it is not the same thing. Thank goodness, because of course I would have substituted.) 

So: if you want a more informed take on this book, click here (where a recipe I am tempted by is reproduced) or here.