Cabbage Galette: Take Two

Remember?  You probably don't.  It's okay, I understand.  So let me refresh your memory...

...Back in April 2008, I tried to make the cabbage galette recipe in My French Kitchen by Joanne Harris and Fran Warde.  It was a failure in every way: I forgot major ingredients (I blame the wine I was drinking...and the fact that Adam and Kiddo were gone and I couldn't concentrate with all the silence and peace around me) and the whole thing went directly into the trash.  There was no saving it.  Here is how it turned out back in April:

So fast-forward to early December where I had a half-head of cabbage to use and I was looking for ideas.  Try the galette again!  Here is how that turned out:

I remembered all the ingredients, did everything according to plan, and - for the most part - it turned out great.  It was earthy and smoky in flavor, but the textures were light and fresh.

After about 35 minutes in the oven, the top wasn't nearly as golden as I wanted (like it is in the cookbook photo) so I added 5 minutes.  But it still wasn't quite right.  Next time I'll add 10 minutes to the cooking time and see what happens.  Maybe I should turn up the heat?  Any and all suggestions are welcome.

Cabbage Galette

from My French Kitchen

1/2 head green cabbage, preferably Savoy, cored & roughly chopped

2 tbsp olive oil

7 oz slab bacon, cubed (I used thick-sliced pancetta)

2 large eggs

3 shallots, finely diced

Bunch of flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped

3 garlic cloves, chopped

Sea salt, to taste

Freshly ground pepper, to taste

1 c. milk (I used whole milk)

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

Heat oven to 350 degrees (I think I might try 375 next time to get the top browner).

Steam the cabbage for 3 minutes over boiling water.  Smear a pie dish with olive oil and heat it in the oven.

In a large bowl, mix the bacon, eggs, shallots, parsley, garlic, salt, & pepper.  Add the milk and flour, and mix into a smooth dough.

Remove the hot pie dish from the oven.  Spread half the dough over the base of the dish, pile on the cabbage and pack it down with your hands, and cover with the remaining dough.  Bake for 35 minutes (I'm adding 10 minutes next time), until golden and firm.

Serves 6 (this served the 3 of us...and we had fantastic leftovers for what seemed like ages afterward).

Eat, drink, and persevere in the kitchen!

Want to save money? Give him THIS for the holidays!

I have been going on and on and ON about how much I love Joanne Harris' and Fran Warde's cookbooks.  I'm a friggin broken record.  But, ah, I've had an ace up my sleeve, the pièce de résistance to show off how truly awesome these books are.

Remember Chocolat (the movie)?  When Juliette Binoche (whose wardrobe in this movie I want for my very own) makes the hot chocolate for Judi Dench?  Of course it has the chili pepper in it and, upon first sip, Judi Dench gets that sexy smile and laughs that deep sexy laugh.  Who knew that Judi Dench could be sexy?  It must be the hot chocolate.

Without further ado, I give you - from My French Kitchen - Vianne's Spiced Hot Chocolate:

* the crowd goes WILD! *

My pictures suck as usual but all I have to say is...DAMN.  This was amazing.  I'll just give you the recipe and you'll understand what I mean:

1 1/2 c. milk

1/2 vanilla bean, cut in half lengthwise

1/2 cinnamon stick

1 hot red chile, halved and seeded

3 1/2 oz bittersweet (70 percent) chocolate

Brown sugar to taste (optional - I left it out and encourage you to)

Whipped cream, chocolate curls, cognac or Amaretto, to serve

Place milk in a saucepan, add the vanilla bean, cinnamon stick, and chile, and gently bring to a "shivering simmer" for 1 minute.  Grate the chocolate and whisk it in until it melts (I didn't grate it - I had those bite-size chocolate pieces and just added them in one by one).  If you're adding brown sugar (don't do it!), this is the point where you put it in.  Take off heat and allow it to infuse for 10 minutes (this is where it gets all thick like molasses...in the best way possible).  Remove the vanilla, cinnamon, and chile.  Return to the heat and bring gently back to a simmer.  Serve in mugs topped with whipped cream, chocolate curls, or a dash of cognac or Amaretto.

We only used the whipped cream (homemade, of course), and I don't see myself ever adding in the cognac or Amaretto.   The hot chocolate was perfect without it and one doesn't mess with perfection.  And I don't mind adding that drinking this with Adam after Kiddo went to bed was downright sexy.  Seriously, you must try this.

Eat, drink, and indulge in perfection.

"You jump, I jump. Remember?": Trusting your cookbook's author*

Thanks to my pal Ellen, I now subscribe to Publishers Weekly's "Cooking the Books" newsletter. In the latest email, there is a brief interview with Ina Garten. The interview isn't all that illuminating, but I did love this quote at the end:

"I think it’s served me well that each of my books has more than just recipes, that it has a story and a reason for being. The thing about a book is that it has a personality, whereas a recipe on the Web doesn’t. There’s a trust that comes with a person."

She hits the nail on the head. I had never been able to articulate that, when it comes to my cookbooks, there is a trust relationship with the cook who wrote the book. For instance, I trust Ina implicitly: she tells me it's good and I should make it...you bet your arse I'll make it. Another example is Jamie Oliver. We're friends and he's done some good things for me...but he's also a pretty flaky friend: he doesn't tell me how high the heat on my stove should be and why, oh why, didn't he give me a specific cooking time? And Jamie doesn't seem to know anything about my life as a full-time working mom in a metropolitan area. So he and I have a rocky relationship: we love each other and then hate each other. Someone else who I trust with the health, pleasure, and soulful nourishment of my family and me? Joanne Harris and Fran Warde (My French Kitchen and The French Market). They have charmed and seduced me, and we have the most lovely relationship these days. I encourage you to trust them as well.

Eat, drink, and develop trust relationships with your cookbooks.


*Yeah, I quoted Titanic in the post title. I still love that movie. Judge away.

Thanksgiving: In Photos

Lest you read my previous post and think that I didn't document everything about Thanksgiving, I am here to reassure you that I took LOTS of pictures (or Adam did).  Here was our menu:

- Pork Loin Roast with Chestnuts (from The French Kitchen)

- Apple-Turnip Mashed Potatoes (from Southern Living)

- Wild Rice with Roasted Grapes and Walnuts (from Bon Appétit)

- Blackberry Crisp (the Soul Twin brought frozen wild blackberries

 that she gathered herself and used them in place of the apples in Ina Garten's recipe from Barefoot Contessa's Parties)

Now I'm going to let the photos speak for themselves:

For goodness sake, I have the most ridiculous hair!

"Would you like some fresh ground pepper with that?"

"Oh, honey, I think we could ALL use some fresh pepper."

(My eternal love if you know where this line is from)

The finished product.  Think we're a fancy schmancy family?  Check out the plastic wine glass with water for Kiddo.  You gotta agree that un-glams the table a bit!

I swear, this looked much more beautiful in person!

The motley crew (bottom left, clockwise): my other husband, the Soul Twin, Kiddo, yours truly, and the Husband.

Eat, drink, and happy holidays!

Chez Lutz: Gougère au jambon

I’ve blogged before (here and here) about the surprising relationship between food and Joanne Harris, who wrote Chocolat and now has ventured into children’s/YA literature with Runemarks.

It’s been a few months since I’ve made anything from The French Market, and I’m so glad I revisited this cookbook tonight.  Both books – The French Market and The French Kitchen – challenge me and my abilities…yet they do so in manageable ways for a full-time working mother such as myself.  Tonight I made the gougère au jambon, and it turned out mighty fine:

 

 I didn't use the exact right-sized dish (I should have gone a bit bigger) so the ham mixture didn't cook as thoroughly as it could have.  Even then, I added five minutes to the final cooking time because I realized my dish was too small and deep.  But it tasted RAD.  Unfortunately, I can’t post the recipe since I followed it exactly (minus the one extra clove of garlic I added – the recipe called for two cloves).  But here are links to other related recipes:

- Gougères stuffed with ham mousse (Emeril Lagasse)

- Gougères (Epicurious)

I also can recommend The French Market by Joanne Harris and Fran Warde.  In addition to the gougère recipe, I have also made their salad with walnuts (salade aux noix), their warm salad with Camembert dressing (salade tiède au Camembert), and their potato, cabbage, and Camembert casserole (tourte au Camembert)…all to huge success.  Not to mention that you can impress the hell out of your guests by giving them the French names for the meals!

Mangez, boivez, et parlez français!

 

WINE NOTES : Thanks to Karen Page and Andrew Dornenburg’s What to Drink with What You Eat, I found out that an Old World Chardonnay would work well with the gougère.  So Adam picked out the Chateau Lafayette Reneau Seyval-Chardonnay.  I said, “Honey!  That’s a New York wine!  It’s not Old World!”  To which Adam responded, “But it says Chateau!”  All you French speakers out there will appreciate that there is no l’accent circonflexe in the word “Chateau” on this bottle.  But the only other Chardonnay we had was Casa Silva 2007 Chardonnay…from Chile.  So I had to take a leap.  And the Casa Silva was fantastic with it.  I’m drinking a glass right now, post-dinner, and it’s rather oaky.  But the oak just disappeared with the gougère and they perfectly complemented each other. 

A phoenix rising from the ashes

So here were the ashes last night:


This pathetic mess is the Cabbage Galette recipe from My French Kitchen by Joanne Harris and Fran Warde. Based on the photo in the book, I expected soft green cabbage and a golden crust. So I kept looking through the window of the oven, wondering what the hell was going on. Then I realized: CRAP! I forgot to add two eggs to the crust mixture!!!! No wonder I didn't have enough to cover the top of the galette! No wonder I wasn't getting a golden crust! But with only 10 minutes left on the timer, I decided to keep it in the oven. When time was up, I took it out and noticed the cabbage was still raw and crunchy. Wha...?!?! I checked the recipe... CRAP! I forgot to blanche the cabbage first! It was just SO BAD that I laughed and told the husband to just dump it. Wanna hear why this happened? Because I was actually home by myself when I was making it versus the usual mid-week madness of my kiddo's homework and a schedule to stick to. I actually had time. So I leisurely prepared it, drinking wine and singing along to music. I got lazy. I wasn't vigilant. And this is what happens. I always knew I worked better under pressure but I learned last night just how true that is.

And here's the phoenix:


Instead I made the dinner I originally had planned for this evening: Jamie Oliver's Fifteen Christmas Salad. It was the first time I had made it (also the first time I tried the Cabbage Galette), and I can't even express to you how simple it is, yet how rich it is in flavor. First you start off with the mozzarella di bufala, which is on the bottom, and you sprinkle salt, pepper, and freshly grated lemon zest on it (Layer 1). Then the recipe calls for clementine slices next, but I used peeled cara cara oranges (Layer 2). Then you dress some salad greens in lemon-oil dressing and wrap them in some speck (smoked proscuitto, Layer 3). Then the recipe calls for shaved Parmigiano Reggiano on top, but I used pecorino romano, which didn't work so well - use Parmigiano Reggiano like Jamie says (Layer 4). Last, finish with a sprinkling of aged balsamic vinegar (Layer 5). It was textured, rich, and simple. It tasted decadent but was still surprisingly light on its feet. And it paired splendidly with the Bridlewood Viognier I had already poured. The best part? It took me about 20 minutes to pull together after my cabbage galette debacle.

Bon appètit!