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Mistress of Her Own Domain

Modern Girl is now mistress of her own domain. www.moderngirlskitchen.com, to be exact.

Stay tuned for details - but the site will be moving soon, so please update your browser and be patient while I figure out exactly how to do all this!

(Anyone with experience in "site moving" is welcome to offer assistance.....pretty please....)

Soup, Soup, Glorious Soup!

It could be the weather, it could be the season, it could be a minor mineral imbalance.

Whatever it is, I've been craving potato soup for a couple of weeks now, even buying potatoes on two occasions with the specific intent of preparing it. The first batch ended up chopped and roasted with olive oil and rosemary on my recent roast chicken spree. The second ended up waiting patiently in the fridge until this evening, when rain, cold and the meteorologist's promise of a "wintry mix" (more like a wishful mix in these parts) prompted me to embark on project potage.

I made some more chicken stock just a couple of days ago and it, along with half an onion, a couple of stalks of celery and a bit of bacon desperately in need of use, was loitering in the fridge just waiting for its chance to dive into a giant pot of creamy potato soup, so I finally had everything I needed to make the thick, creamy, ever-so-slightly chunky potato soup I'd envisioned.

Working from the basic potato soup ingredients (onion, water, stock, milk, potatoes), I've come up with the following recipe - it's another work in process (like the Chicken/Whie Bean Soup I posted recently) - but it's simple, simple, simple - not to mention tasty, filling and a great opportunity to hit the local farmer's market!

As it turns out, this is definitely another one of those great make-ahead-and-freeze dishes - perfect for those nights when you get home from work and it's already dark and you are far too knackered to cook but your only other alternatives are Chinese takeout, pizza delivery or a tasteless frozen dinner that's been in the freezer since two boyfriends ago.

And by the way, some crusty bread from the bakery would make a nice addition, but given the carb count on this (and its thick, filling consistency), you certainly won't miss it if your mind is already on bikini season and you opt to pass. Or if you recently heard a news report suggesting that the average person gains between five and THIRTEEN pounds between Thanksgiving and New Year's - in which case you may want to skip the soup entirely and just enjoy the celery on its own.

Note: It looks like there are a lot of ingredients for this, but they're all basics so you shouldn't have to go on a major shopping spree to get the stuff you need. And if you do, well, you'll find these are all "must-have's" for later!

What You Need:

• 8-10 small-medium yellow potatoes, diced (try organic Yukon Gold)
• 8-10 rashers of market bacon, chopped into squares
  
• 1/2 large onion, diced
• 1/4 cup celery, sliced
  
• 1 cup chicken stock
• 1 cup white wine
• 3 cups water
• 1 cup skim Mayfield milk
• salt
• 1-2 tsp. ground cloves
• 1 tsp. celery salt
• 1 tbsp. whole black pepper
• fresh ground black pepper
• 2 whole bay leaves
  

What You Do:

1. Go ahead and peel & dice your potatoes, chop the onion and celery and cube the bacon slices.
2. Place the diced potatoes into a stockpot or deep saucepan.
   
3. Cook the bacon in a skillet and place it into the pot with the potatoes. Do NOT drain off the fat - you need it to soften the onion.
4. Soften the onion and celery together in the bacon grease -- you'll know they're done when they become transclucent.
5. Add the onion and celery to the bacon and potato in the stockpot, then pour in one cup of chicken stock and three cups of water. Bring to a boil.
6. Simmer the potato mixture until the potatoes are fully cooked and the liquid is reduced by half to three quarters depending on how thick you want your soup.
7. Add celery salt, salt, ground and whole black pepper and bay leaves while mixture is simmering.
8. Stir in the milk.
   
9. Pour a small amount of the reduced mixture into a food processor or blender (liquidiser) and blend until smooth. Pour the blended mixture into a bowl. If you want a chunkier soup, reserve some of the potato pieces in the stockpot.
10. When you've blended all of the soup, return it to the stockpot on medium heat and stir in cheese and cloves. Add more milk to loosen the mixture or small quantities of corn starch to thicken it depending on what you prefer. You can also add more seasoning to taste.

CHARMING TRUFFLES

Sensuous, Decadent & Oh So Very Modern

You know the problem. It usually begins around the first of December and spreads like a rampant virus through the very essence of your being, leaving you about as energetic and coherent as a sack of wet gym clothes when it's run its course.

I'm talking (of course) about the holidays. Christmas. Kwanzaa. Hanukkah. Some druidic turn-of-the-year celebration. Whatever you choose to observe, it somehow invariably involves food. And entertaining. And decorating. And often gift-giving. Which brings with it an entirely new set of problems to keep you up at night: to whom do you give a gift? What do you give? Where you get what you give? How do you wrap what you give in the most interesting, unique-yet-festive-and-certainly-not-generic manner? The list goes on.

And despite all efforts to counter-act this annual attack of holiday anxiety - a "phenomenon" widely reported as "news" by our ever-vigilant media (who appear completely unaware of the fact that their time would more usefully be spent reporting stories that demonstrate just how fortunate we are to have such a "problem" in the first place) -- it's virtually inescapable.

Which is precisely why, dear modern girl, I have a perfectly modern solution. Truffles. Yes, that pinnacle of chocolate indulgence, that extravagant bon-bon of a delicacy, that most decorous of all small-sized sweets!

And no, I haven't lost my mind. They are easy - FUN, even - to make - and there's practically no limit to the array of flavours, textures and combinations you can create. Just host a viewing of that gorgeous Juliette Bincoche/Johnny Depp film Chocolat to get you in the mood, then set about creating some chocolate covered magic of your very own.

What You Need

- Two 16oz bags of semi-sweet chocolate chips (the highest quality you can afford - Ghiradelli is ideal)
- Two 8 oz bars of dark, milk or semi-sweet chocolate (again, Ghiradelli is perfect - just make sure it is at least 60%)
-1/2 pint heavy whipping cream
- Two 8oz bars of the highest quality white chocolate you can afford
- "Fillings" like ground almonds or hazelnuts, candied orange peel, crystalized ginger, coconut and glace cherries
- Liqueurs like creme de menthe, creme de cassis or creme de cacao
-Icing for decorating (you can also use more melted chocolate - it depends on how competent you are with a piping bag!
-A cake tester or long, thin skewer
-A double-boiler or two saucepans, one small enough to fit inside the other (this is what I use!)
- A couple of cookie/baking sheets, some wax paper and, if you want to get fancy, a couple of silicone ice cube trays in different shapes (like hearts or shells).
- A few small mixing bowls (cereal bowls also work well)

What You Do

1. Just fill your large saucepan about half full of water and bring it to a boil (or simply fill your double-boiler and get it going). Place the smaller saucepan inside the larger one doing your best not to let it touch the water (at the very least, it should touch only minimally).
   
2. Put 1 bag of the milk chocolate chips into the small pan along with a drop of cream to help the chocolate loosen and melt. It is very important to remember that it is far easier to make the chocolate more liquid than it is to make it more solid! Aim to get the chocolate loose and smooth with the consistency of a thick milkshake.
3. Place one of your "fillings" in a small mixing bowl - 1/2 a cup full of crushed hazelnuts, for example, or 1/2 a cup of shredded coconut and some chopped glace cherries.
4. Add a few tablespoons of melted chocolate to the filling. Think of the chocolate as the "glue" that will pull the filling together -- in other words, the ratio should be about 2 parts filling to one part chocolate. The mixture should come together quickly and easily into a small ball, much like dough. Don't freak out, give up and eat it all if you don't succeed with this at first -- although that's always a tempting alternative -- instead, just keep adding small amounts of filling until it thickens up.
5. Now you have a choice: you can either form the mixture into small balls with your hands (use 1 tablespoon, roughly) and place them on a baking sheet lined with wax paper, or you can fill the cavities of a silicone ice cube tray with the mixture (this will help you to form the truffles into decorative shapes like hearts, shells, pears, even penguins if you're so inclined -- of if that's the only ice cube tray in the freezer).
6. Place the tray or baking sheet in the refrigerator for a few minutes until the chocolate sets.
7. In the meantime, take another small, clean, dry saucepan, place broken up pieces of the solid chocolate bars (either white or dark) into it and melt it over the double-boiler. Because this is a higher percentage/quality chocolate than the chocolate chips, this chocolate will melt a lot faster and will have a much more velvety-smooth consistency. You should NOT add cream to this chocolate.
8. Remove your trays from the fridge. If you're using ice cube molds, pop the chocolates out from the cavities. Skewer each one and gently dip it into the chocolate you've just melted, turning carefully to ensure full coverage.
   
9. 
   
10. 
11. Gently place the truffle on a waiting sheet of wax paper to set.
12. Decorate by piping melted chocolate over the top (use white chocolate on dark and vice-versa), or use small pieces of nuts, ginger or swirls of colored icing -- the sky's the limit.
13. Place in miniature cupcake cups, arrange in a small gift box or my favorite, a red Chinese takeout carton. Give these as gifts to friends and co-workers (if they're really, really good friends, pair them with a good bottle of red wine for the ultimate in modern girl gift-giving chic).
    

Note: Truffles can be stored in the fridge for up to one week - at which point they need to be eaten. Completely. No questions asked. (If you reach this juncture, go ahead and drink the wine while you're at it - you may as well go all the way if you're going to indulge).

Thanksgiving & the Pursuit of Perfection, Part Two

In addition to re-publishing the post prior to this one (Thanks, But No Thanks), I thought it wise - and timely - to offer an update. After all, what modern girl among us is not caught up to one degree or another in the pursuit of elusive perfection, whether in terms of appearance, physique, demeanour, career performance, culinary prowess (especially, perhaps, culinary prowess!) or all of the above. Admit it or not, you want it. It's hard not to.

The desire to achieve perfection - to become flawless, peerless, matchless, dauntless - sneaks up on us. It weaves and winds itself through our lives, slipping between magazine imprints and media airwaves, insinuating itself into our interactions with others; it slides between the sheets with us at night, whispering in our ear...Tomorrow! Tomorrow I will make an Italian Creme Cake that is perfectly level, perfectly moist, perfectly perfect...

And while it's a voice we can so often quell during most of the year, there's something about the holidays that makes us acutely aware of its presence. Something about the pressure of this one day - this Thanksgiving, this Christmas, this Hanukah, this New Year's Eve - that forces us to succumb to otherwise latent ambition. Forget the fact that you can hardly cook a hotdog the rest of the year, you're plucking, stuffing and sauteing your own special-ordered, $50-a-pound heirloom heritage turkey this year by god. And when you do, it's going to be better looking and better tasting than any turkey that's ever graced all the covers of Living, Gourmet, Food & Wine, Bon Apetite, Cook's Illustrated, Cooking Light, Oprah and Real Simple put together. Period. After all, that's what the holidays are about, right? If we can't have a perfect meal with our perfect family, well then, it we won't enjoy it and we certainly won't be happy.

Or will we? What's so wrong with a little imperfection? What's so wrong with a few under-done vegetables, an over-cooked bird and a wonky cake? And will our worlds fall to pieces if our families aren't smiling 100% of the time and the dog eats half the pecan pie when you're not looking (true story, another time)? Probably not.

Probably, they'll be a hell of a lot happier that way. Because as T.S. Eliot explains in one of my favorite essays, "Tradition and the Individual Talent," true art lies not in perfect imitation, but in allowing your own unique characteristics, experiences and values to express themselves through the creation of something that both follows tradition and departs from it at the same time. The same can be said of cooking -- especially of preparing an important dish or celebratory meal. It's not about pedantic recipe obeisance; it's about letting go of the fear of imperfection and embracing, instead, the possibility that a few "flaws" could (gasp) actually be better.

I learned this last Christmas as my then future in-laws arrived to spend the holidays with my family. It was, in many ways, an amazingly happy and exciting time. It was also the singlemost stressful holiday of my entire life. The lurking - and at the time I thought "healthy" - "respect" (read: fear & intimidation) I felt for my Swiss future mother-in-law drove me to try to deliver the most picture-perfect meals and baked goods I could provide -- at the expense of some of my sanity and some of the harmony between me and my former fiance. The thing is (and this is the thing I forgot), she wasn't there for the food. (Turns out she wasn't really there for me, either, but that's another story). And while the holiday was certainly memorable, what I recall most is the nagging pressure not to put a foot wrong. To dress immaculately. To make sure my house was spotless. To make sure that the food I prepared was beyond reproach in texture, taste, seasoning, appearance.

The end of my engagement came six months later, not through any fault of my own and not, I hasten to add, as a result of that holiday. But as I approach this holiday season, it is with a set of new eyes. There will be no rush this year. No hustle and bustle, no mad decorating or over-production of more baked goods than any one person can dispose of (no matter how many book clubs and supper clubs she's in); no worrying about future in-laws (or fiances or boyfriends, for that matter). No worrying about gifts - my parents, sister, brother-in-law and I are spending the holidays in England and foregoing gifts of "things" in lieu of the gift of time together.

I won't fib here and say that this year has not "aged" my thirty-one year-old self in some ways. It has. And I wouldn't be honest if I didn't say that, on the eve of Thanksgiving, I can't help but think back to the excitement of last year, to the not-yet-engaged-but-almost excitement of being with the person I thought I'd spend my life with. That some part of me does still wish she could go back and do it all again - hopefully with a happier outcome this time.

But if I did do it all again, one thing is certain. I wouldn't worry about my profiterole's "puff quotient" quite so much. Or whether the fondue was as authentically Swiss in flavor and consistency as it could be. Or whether my house was decorated like something out of the pages of House & Garden. Much like lasting relationships, these things either happen or they don't, and not usually by force. Or our own hellbent design. And when they don't, it doesn't mean that something is wrong, that you aren't worthy or valued or important or talented. It simply means that you are fortunate enough to have discovered what it means to be alive. And that is perfection all by itself.

Thanks, But No Thanks Redux

A Word About Thanksgiving and the Pursuit of Perfection
(re-posted from earlier this month)

If you've ever been accused of looking at the world through rose-colored glasses a little too often, you'll understand when I say that so many meals always seem better in anticipation and in memory than they do while they're in progress. Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners are good examples of this phenomenon. In fact, I'm already looking at the cover of Bon Apetite's Thanksgiving issue, mental chef's hat pulled firmly on, imagining how easily the meat will fall under the sliding knife, how the potatoes will be creamed just so, the parsnips roasted to sweet, understated perfection, the carrots like pasta al dente - still with enough of a bite, and the desserts, oh, the desserts! The glorious array of homemade-made-from-scratch-from-an-ancestor's recipe pecan and pumpkin and apple pies.

The reality, of course, will be nothing like this at all.

To start with, I'm British and therefore not technically encompassed by the holiday (though now that I have lived here long enough to acquire citizenship this is, indeed, a mere technicality). Second, however, is the small fact that because I'm British, I don't actually have pecan and pumpkin and apple pie recipes passed down from my own mother - let alone any stalwart grandmothers or great grandmothers - so I'm on my own in that department. And third, I'm not even entirely sure where I'll be spending Thanksgiving this year -- so planning a menu is a little bit of a stretch.

But no matter where I spend the holiday, one thing is relatively certain. Thanksgiving is simply one of those meals that (much like holidays themselves) builds in one's imagination throughout the year, spurred on by the early arrival of the November issues of the aforementioned Bon Apetite, Martha Stewart Living, Gourmet, Real Simple, even Oprah (word is she cooks a mean corn fritter, by the way).

And this year - as with every other year - the more I gaze adoringly at that immaculately golden-skinned turkey dressed to perfection on the cover of Bon Apetite, the more I begin to believe that I too could pull of the kind of holiday meal usually reserved for Food Network specials and the pages of J. Crew's fall catalogue. That my friends and family will gather at my table wearing coordinating chinos, tie belts, wool skirts and cashmere sweaters adorned with little brooches. That each and every dish will be prepared and on the table at the same time at the same temperature. That the meat won't be too dry or the sweet potato casserole too sweet. That the bottle of wine will have been fortuitously opened exactly at its peak and there'll be just enough leftovers - but not too many.

Yes, this is the meal I believe I can create. Not just at Thanksgiving, for that matter, but year-round - you know, for dinner parties, brunches, those "quick weeknight dinners with friends" that Nigella and Jamie and Ina are so fond of writing about. In short, I will be the living, breathing, support-staff-free embodiment of all these celeb chefs combined. My name will be synonymous with gatherings pulled from the pages of Gourmet and Food and Wine! My food will be lauded by all who taste it! I will live in a state of glorious perfection!

Or perhaps not. If I am honest, the thought of working to pull off a meal like that (a feat I've attempted on numerous occasions) is certainly enjoyable (I'm a cook, after all) but it's also grueling, hard on the blood pressure and not, as it turns out, entirely necessary. After all, my parents and friends don't care if the greens are a minute late hitting the table, and while they might make a comment about the turkey if it's dry, they're certainly not going to criticize me for refusing to match my skirt with their chinos or forgetting to chill the wine let alone open it. And while good food and good presentation go hand in hand, I'm pretty sure that when given the choice, they'd rather enjoy a few extra minutes with me than a few extra seconds admiring my stacked plating technique.

And as far as the pecan pie, well, my mother buys that at the Fresh Market.

Cat Blog Dog Blog Mod Blog

Photographs? Again???

Between the Italian Creme Cake and the Roast Lemon Ginger Chicken and an endless supply of work deadlines, well, Maggie (above) and Wellington were just plain worn out...but not so worn out that they couldn't WELCOME BACK CLARE!!!


Explore more food blogs and see more foodie pets at Eat Stuff's Weekend Cat Blogging and Sweetnicks' Weekend Dog Blogging!

Cake a Complait

Closing the Book on Italian Creme Cake (for now...)

In case you were wondering what happened to the whole Mod Girls Book Club/Italian Creme Cake saga, you can once again sleep at night!

Although pressing deadlines and a slew of new projects precluded my attendance at book club this week (after all the hype it was a little bit disappointing not to get to go)...instead, I finished the cake today as a finale to dinner with friends -- part of my "Sunday dinner revival" project.

Luckily, my taste-testers delighted in the cake -- a last-minute-moment-of-inspiration shot of espresso added to the icing proved, apparently, to be the piece de resistance, and a real cup of hot black coffee proved to be the perfect accompaniment to this rich dessert.

Even better, making this cake - and icing it - is a whole lot easier than you might imagine, not to mention great fun!

• 

What You Need for the cake...

• 1 stick unsalted butter
• 1/2 cup Crisco
• 2 cups fine white sugar
• 5 egg yolks
• 2 cups plain flour
• 1 tsp. baking soda
• 1 cup buttermilk
• 1 tsp. vanilla
• 1 & 1/3 cup shredded coconut
• 1 cup crushed pecans, walnuts or hazelnuts
• 5 egg whites whipped until they are very stiff
• Three (3) 8-inch non-stick round cake pans
  

What You Do to make the cake...

1. Cream the butter, crisco and sugar until smooth. A food processor is great for this, as is a mixer, but you can do it by hand with a wooden spoon or with a hand-held electric whisk just as easily.
2. Add the egg yolks and vanilla.
3. Mix the flour and baking soda together with your hand (just swish the soda into the flour) then alternately add the flour and the buttermilk to the butter/sugar mixture from step one, blending well each time.
4. Once the flour and buttermilk have been added, blend in the nuts andcoconut.
5. If you're using a food processor or mixer, remove the bowl and gently fold in the egg whites by hand using a spatula. The easiest way to do this is simply to add a big dollop of egg whites at a time, then fold the cake mixture over the whites until they are mixed in but have not disappeared. You'll notice that the mixture "grows" as you add the whites, and you'll also notice a few white swirls - this is what you want.
6. Divide the batter between your three cake pans and bake on 350 for 25 minutes until done.
7. Cool the layers, wrap individually in foil and/or cling wrap and freeze overnight or until needed (not more than one week).

Note: Creating a "mise en place"(everything in place) makes this cake even easier to create - simply measure out each of the ingredients you need then put the rest away. Placing each ingredient in its own bowl on the counter not only makes the whole process go faster, it helps the kitchen stay cleaner. It also decreases the likelihood of having to interrupt the process to hunt down an ingredient, say, or whip the egg whites.

What You Need for the icing...

• 16 oz cream cheese, softened
• 1 stick unsalted butter
• 4 or 5 times 1/3 cup organic unbleached powdered sugar
• 1 demi-tasse of espresso brewed and cooled
• 1-2 handfuls of crushed nuts (use the same nuts as in the cake mixture)
• shredded coconut, whole nuts & glace cherries for decoration

What You Do to make the icing...

1. Mix the cream cheese, butter and 1 cup of powdered sugar together.
2. Add the espresso and 1 or 2 handfuls of crushed nuts.
3. Continue adding powdered sugar in 1/3 cupfuls until the icing reaches a consistency and sweetness you're happy with. The trick here is to get an icing that is thick and can hold itself together, but is "loose" enough to spread easily. Just go easy adding the sugar and remember that you can always add but you can't take away!

to ice the cake...

1. Place a sheet of parchment or wax paper on top of your cake stand, then place the first layer of cake in the center of it and spread a layer of icing across it about 1 cm or 1/8 inch thick.
2. Place the next layer on top of the iced bottom layer and repeat.

3. Place the third or "top" layer on the second layer of icing, then use the remaining icing to cover the top and sides of the cake.

4. Sprinkle crushed nuts and coconut over the cake, then decorate with whole nuts and glace cherries.
5. Refridgerate for at least an hour, then use two broad spatulas (or a "cake lifter" if you are lucky enough to have such a thing!) and gently slide out the parchment paper from underneath, leaving your cake stand clean beneath your freshly iced cake!
6. Allow about an hour for the cake to come up to room temp. before serving.

Note: Thaw the cake layers for about 30 minutes prior to icing - don't worry at all if they are still pretty cold - this will actually help the icing and the cake itself will come up to room temperature by the time you serve it. I actually put an ice pack on top of the layers I am not working with to keep them cold until I need them.

Julie/Julia ...and Me

Well, I did it. I broke down, bought Julie Powell's Julie/Julia and read it. How could I not? After all the fuss that has been made about it (not all particularly complimentary) I had to see for myself - and I make no bones about my curiousity or my lack of willpower when it comes to holding out against the double-barreled velocity of marketing and media (after all, when it comes right down to it, I'm one of those marketing/media people anyway).

But back to the book. If you can call it that. It reads like a copy of some excessively long, intermittently coherent email. Then again, I suppose that may also be appropriate given the book's origin as a blog.

The thing that frustrated me, aside from Powell's brazen narcissism and arrogantly undeserved comparisons of herself to, say, Samuel Pepys (more on that in a moment) and Julia Child herself, was her ability to denigrate philosophically beautiful acts of human existence, like cooking, learning and self-discovery, into something so disgustingly messy (not unlike the decriptions of her dust and cat-hair-blanketed apartment...). Something that, presented in combination with meandering mastications on her friends' sex lives, was at times almost viscerally unappealing.

Granted, not all cooking is beautiful - or fun. Meat preparation, for instance, can be downright primal. But somehow in her efforts to hit the reader over the head with the "deeper significance" of preparing food, she loses sight of what it's all about -- offering, instead, highly contrived, overly self-conscious commentary about brains or, as at the beginning, extracting marrow from a bone.

Now I'm no starry-eyed, rose-coloured-glasses Bergdorf Blondes-and-Nanny Diaries Modern Girl -- there's enough Bridget Jones-meets-Carrie Bradshaw cynicism in me to last a good long while -- but please, if you're going to expound upon the pleasures of food, my god can you at least be articulate about it? And try to sound as if you're enjoying yourself at least some of the time?

What Powell has created with Julie/Julia is the unfortunate result of a good idea taken too far. A blog, sure. A column? Fine. But a la Sex in the City, which did nothing in book form half as well as it did on HBO or in the Post, Julie/Julia the book suffers from a variety of ailments (perhaps Powell would call it a "syndrome"?). Not least the author's inability to write - a fact she bravely attempts to mask with allusions to as many literary and culinary greats as she can deliberately make room for - regardless, it seems, of whether or not they do anything for the book.

Case in point, the random references to the diary of Samuel Pepys, Powell's own reference to her reader as "best beloved" (a forthright self-comparison with Rudyard Kipling) and her rather bizarre effort at reconstructing the love affair between Paul and Julia Child in a secondary narrative that falls so far short of its goal the editor who let get as far as the galley stage ought to be shot -- and Powell ought never be allowed to take up fiction.

Powell's prose is contorted, long-winded and as syntactically self-serving and navel-gazing as the book itself. Not to mention so stuffed with fat (of the verbose kind) that it fairly cooks itself. And now, god forbid, she's calling herself a writer. But as I am sure she would have to agree, one recipe does not a Master of French Cooking make. And one book does not an author make.

By the way, if you just have to buy it, I'll sell you my copy at a discount. Either that, or there are probably more than a few copies lying around at your local used book store.

Bake Your Cake...

As I mentioned last week it's Modern Girl's Book Club time again. And while we usually have a food-related theme, this month's read (James Frey's A Million Little Pieces) doesn't quite lend itself to that approach, so we're going with Italian. For no particular reason at all.


It is I've decided, the perfect reason to make my first Italian Creme Cake - a most appropriate selection, I might add, since this blog evolved from the fact that I am always scrambling for something to make for book club a) on a budget and b) on normally very limited time notwithstanding the fact that I was also born without the "plan ahead" gene.

Case in point, had book club met last wednesday as originally planned, the aforementioned cake would have been sacrificed to the pressures of overdue deadlines and assignment-happy clients (not that I'm complaining - after all, they "paid" for these ingredients!).

Anyway, in an act of either defiance or pathological procrastination, today I did put a couple of deadlines aside (I'm supposed to be working on them now) to make the cake layers for Wednesday's Italian Creme Cake.

I decided to be profesh with this and actually lay out the ingredients beforehand, which made for a faster clean-up and did reduce time spent groping around for the right sort of flour etc. Other than that it didn't make much of a difference - except, of course, to make me feel even more professional. Good practice for my debut on the Food Network...(one day)....

The main challenge, between now and mid-week, is going to be not sneaking into the kitchen and nibbling at the cake layers. Which is why I think I will put them in the freezer. Well, that and the fact that I've been informed (how reliably I'm not sure) that the cake ices better (no pun intended) if the layers have been frozen. Stay tuned - I'll let you know.

Mod Note: Look for the recipe in the next post or follow the link above for a basic Italian Creme Cake recipe.

Return of Mod Cat/Mod Dog

Wellie & Maggie return to weekend cat/dog blogging...with love to Clare & Kiri at Eat Stuff.Clare, the usual cat blogging host, has been in hospital for the past week, so Maggie and Wellie (and I, of course) send our best wishes! (And Wellington says that he is still willing to fly to Australia as long as he can test out the waves while he's there).




(Maggie would like to apologize for the fact that Wellington could not stay awake long enough for a proper photograph. Sometimes, cats have no sense of etiquette.)

Weekend Cat Blogging is hosted this week by Masak-Masak in Malaysia. These cats get around.

Closer to "home", Sweetnicks in Maryland, USA is on vacation, so Dispensing Happiness is hosting Weekend Dog Blogging this weekend instead!

And Speaking of Chicken...

All good things come to those who wait, right? And in keeping with the recent Sunday dinner theme, here's a gorgeously textured, deliciously simple chicken stew ideal for preparing on a long, lazy, chilly weekend day. It's a bit of a work in progress, so there is plenty of room for variation with this dish (especially if you share them with everyone else!) - think of it as a "base" then take it wherever you like - after all, if you're like me, you never make the same thing the same way twice. Luckily, this is the kind of recipe that can take a good beating in the "experimental" department! Just remember to soak the beans for a good 12 hours or overnight first...

What You Need

• 1 package of Market Bean Soup mix (a blend of lentils, navy beans, white beans, pinto beans)
• 1 fennel bulb, diced
• 3 cloves garlic, chopped
• 1 bunch of carrots (about 6), chopped in long, thick pieces
• 2-3 shallots, chopped
• 1 can stewed tomatoes with peppers & garlic
• 1 can ROTEL or tomatoes with jalapeno/hot peppers*
• 2 full boneless, skinless chicken breasts, diced
• olive oil
• chicken stock (once again, if you're not game for making your own - no pun intended - then store-bought low sodium is fine)
• Vermouth or dry white wine (if you read the previous recipe, you're probably noticing a trend...)
• Bay leaves, sea salt, black pepper, red pepper
  

*If you don't like hot food, skip the ROTEL and kick in a few more stewed tomatoes if you're so inclined.


What You Do

1. Drain off the beans, place them in a large stock pot and just cover with water. Simmer them on medium-high heat for one hour.
2. In the meantime, saute onion, fennel, garlic and shallots gently in olive oil, then set aside.
3. Using the same saute pan, brown the chicken.
4. When beans have simmered for an hour, add carrots, onion, fennel, garlic, shallots and chicken, followed by the stewed tomatoes and Rotel.
5. Toss in a couple of bay leaves and simmer for two - three more hours, adding a dash of Vermouth/white wine about half-way through. You'll know it's done when some of the beans begin to "mush" a little and the chicken begins to fall apart. Be careful not to overcook at this point, or you'll end up with something that looks like a giant glob of baby food - not quite what you're going for.
6. Season with sea salt, red pepper and cracked black pepper to taste.

Serve with crusty french bread and a simple, fresh lettuce salad for contrast.


Bottoms Up: Try a lovely, mellow white with this - something a little bit tangy and dry that will set off the thick, warm texture of this dish.

Speaking of Sunday Dinner...

What would a food site be if we can't have a little (food-related) laugh every now and then...

Scientists at NASA built a gun specifically to launch standard 4 pound dead chickens at the windshields of airliners, military jets and the space shuttle, all traveling at maximum velocity. The idea is to simulate the frequent incidents of collisions with airborne fowl to test the strength of the windshields.

British engineers heard about the gun and were eager to test it on the windshields of their new high speed trains. Arrangements were made, and a gun was sent to the British engineers. When the gun was fired, the engineers stood shocked as the chicken hurled out of the barrel, crashed into the shatterproof shield, smashed it to smithereens, blasted through the control console, snapped the engineer's back-rest in two, and embedded itself in the back wall of the cabin, like an arrow shot from a bow.

The horrified Brits sent NASA the disastrous results of the experiment, along with the designs of the windshield and asked the US scientists for suggestions. NASA responded with a one-line memo: Defrost the chicken.

On Sunday Dinner...

Somewhere in every British person's DNA there's a little splice of genetic code that lets them know when it's Sunday. Not for religious reasons (let's face it the last time we ventured too far in that direction we prompted a civil war) but because it's time for the ubiquitous Sunday dinner. The meal that single-handedly dismantled any and all vestiges of pretension we may have had about our culinary reputation. And while times have certainly changed in that department (let me gloat once more over the fact that England now has more of the world's top-ranked restaurants than that bastion of haute cuisine and not-always-quite-so-neighborly neighbor France), the state of Sunday dinner certainly has not. After all, why fix what (in the eyes and palates of the Brits, at least) isn't broken?

I agree with this sentiment and veritably drooled with envy at my parents' description of their recent Sunday lunch at Egypt Mill in the heart of the English Cotswolds (sigh). As well as being an inn and a restaurant constructed around the water wheels of an old textile mill, it's also home to mouthwateringly delicious cuts of roast beef accompanied by the even more ubiquitous selection of vegetables (usually some combination of carrots, cauliflower, broccoli and, if you're lucky, a few treats like parsnips, peas or even asparagus) and, of course, gravy and Yorkshire Puddings. (Quick note: these are not, and I repeat not to be employed as dessert). But I digress.

For my entire life my mother has prepared Sunday dinner. My grandmothers did, too (I am infrequently troubled by flashes of the aforesaid vegetables meeting unspeakable ends in Nanny Williams's pressure cooker). And I suppose that's why even when I'm left to my own devices (which, to be honest, is most Sundays), I prepare my own "mini" Sunday dinner.

Granted, I'm not much for convention - preparing an entire roast with all the trimmings for one person seems like a bit much. Instead, Sundays for me mean an opportunity to try something new - or more likely, prepare whatever sparked my imagination at the market on Saturday. And because I also earmark Sunday as my designated "lazy day," it's ideal for lingering over the preparation, meandering through the recipe, taking time to smell, sample, touch, taste, savor -- to let the scent of cooking wander through the house, languishing, charismatic, in the air.

And why not? Who cares if you're a one - or a one of two. You don't have to feed an army - or a family - to lose yourself for an hour (or a few) in the slow dance of making a meal. After all, it's one of the most primitive human instincts -- a rite of survival, at its most base, and a ritual of culture and language and art and influence at its most complex. However you look at it, we have so few traditions left these days - so little ritual in our techno-driven lives (unless you count all the yoga moves and meditations and stress-relieving "me time" personal affirmation rituals suggested in most popular magazines - and who has time to do those?) - yet this is one that all of us, in some small way (and not necessarily on a Sunday) can keep.

I used to spend a lot of time in Cleveland, Ohio. The place I stayed was in the middle of a neighborhood largely inhabited by Hasidic Jews. Each and every Saturday I would watch them observe Shabhat - walking to and from the temple, in groups, as families. Following tradition. It was beautiful to witness. Part of me longed to join in, to walk in step with so much history, so much faith, so much solidarity. But that is their world, not mine. And while Sunday dinner can't compete with the spiritual heft of devout religious observance, I have found that, in some small way, it can revive the soul.

Modern Obsession

IZZE (pronounced izzee)...once you start, you won't stop...

A Million Little Pieces

Yes, Modern Girl is heading to book club again...this month we read James Frey's A Million Little Pieces, which, by the way, should be required reading for, well, everyone.

Stark, raw and anything but sugar-coated, Frey's account of pulling himself up from a life hovering so desperately close to death brings the sheer torment of addiction to light in a way that veritably transcends his own words. In so doing, Frey gives readers what amounts to a guided tour of the infinite black hole that - whether we care to admit it or not - lies latent in the soul of every human being. He is, as it turns out, one of the few people brave enough to take us there -- leaving us, for a while, to ponder the contrived nature of our own behavioral tenets, not to mention their immutability.

Beyond all that, however, A Million Little Pieces is also one of those books that holds you transfixed from the first word to the last, leaving you more than a little sorry to have reached the end. Luckily, he's just released a follow-up, My Friend Leonard.

p.s. Oprah hit it out of the park when she chose this for her own book club. Check out interviews, Q & A and Frey's appearance on Oprah here.

Lovely Lovely Lamb

Lamb Shanks Provencal

Don't be put off by the Provencal nomenclature - preparing this one-pot dish is beautifully simple - a fact that becomes doubly pleasing when you sit down to enjoy it. With color and complexity of flavour enough to rival a good red wine, this has to be one of the most satisfying dishes to create and to enjoy -- and as a singleton, I'm happy to say that this is quite possibly the ideal treat-yourself-to-a-private-feast meal. Add a few rustic mashed potatoes (skin-on yukon gold with a dab of butter, a pinch of sea salt and a good dousing of creamy milk), pour a good glass of red wine and voila!

I built the following recipe after reading the original in the Molly Stevens' book, All About Braising. If you can get past the uninspired (and uninspiring) title, it's actually a great resource - not least for the fact that it is absolutely loaded with more one-pot meals than one modern girl could possibly imagine on her own! Anyway - Stevens' recipe involves black olives and more lemon, among other things - I've simplified, adjusted and adapted to come up with a modern girl's version...

What You Need

• 2 small lamb shanks (the following recipe is based around 1 or 2 lamb shanks - simply double or triple amounts if you are serving 4 or 6)
• 1 tbsp olive oil
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 medium yellow onion (or vidalia when in season - they add a marvellous note of sweetness!)
• 1 can (14oz) diced tomatoes with garlic & herbs OR 1/2-1 lb fresh plum tomatoes, diced
• 2-3 fresh garlic cloves, minced
• 1 cup dry white wine or vermouth (I prefer vermouth)
• 1/2 cup homemade chicken stock (look for modern girl how-to coming soon!) - store-bought is a fine alternative if you're not in the mood to play Martha
• Zest of 1 lemon
• 3-4 bay leaves
• 1-2 tsps paprika (Hungarian if you've got a choice!)
  
• Handful of fresh oregano, rosemary and parsley (be as generous as you like!)
• Fresh ground black pepper
• Sea salt
  

What You Do

1. Pre-heat oven to 350 F
   
2. Dice the onion, mince the garlic, put flour on a plate or shallow bowl
3. "Dredge" or lightly coat the lamb shanks in the flour (all you do is press each side of the lamb into the flour so that it is covered. Remember to dredge the end of the shank, too, so that all the exposed meat has a good coating of flour on it. This will allow the meat to brown without burning).
4. Heat the olive oil in a large shallow pan (like a Dutch Oven) and brown the lamb shanks on all sides. Only do two at a time if you're preparing more than one, that way you can keep an eye on them. They will brown quickly - turn each shank with tongs (or two wooden spoons if you're like me and don't own any tongs!) until all sides are well-browned.
   
5. Set shanks aside and add onion and garlic to the pan.
   
6. Soften the onion and garlic in the oils already in the pan, then add the chicken broth, tomatoes, part of the vermouth or wine, the herbs and a pinch of salt.
7. Let the mixture simmer for two or three minutes until it comes together, then place the lamb shanks back into the pot.
8. Sprinkle lemon zest, black pepper, a bit more salt (use your judgment!), remaining vermouth/wine and bay leaves over the lamb and sauce.
9. Cover the pot and place it in the oven on a low shelf.
10. Let the lamb "braise" slowly - for one to two hours depending on the number of shanks you are preparing. When the lamb is done it will be very tender and almost - but not quite - falling off the bone.
    
11. Serve one lamb shank on a bed of sauce accompanied by mashed potatoes (see above) or polenta (as per Molly Stevens) and salut!
    

Note: Given the whole French Country feel of this meal, a nice red table wine would be just the thing - and not a bank-breaker if you are dining alone and don't want to crack open the really good stuff...although I would certainly never oppose the idea of doing so!

Not Your Mother's Casserole

Chicken, Artichokes & Rice Take on the Casserole
And it's perfect for feeding a crowd - especially if you're on a budget.

In this particular recipe, the artichoke hearts & roasted bell peppers
are the priciest ingredients, but if you're going to prepare
a meal on limited funds, then shelling out for a couple of really flavourful or high quality ingredients is a great way to "elevate"
the entire dish or meal. In this case, you can go a step further by roasting your own bell peppers (recommended only if you're feeling uber-culinary), although the savings will be negligible and it's ever-so-slightly time-consuming.

Speaking of time, if you're going to make this on one of those
"why the hell didn't I plan ahead?" weeknights, speed things up by using a rotisserie chicken instead of uncooked chicken breasts.


What You Need:

• 2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
• 1 Rotisserre chicken or enough boneless,skinless chick breasts for your number of guests
• 3 garlic cloves, minced
• 3 cups finely chopped onion
• 2 cups uncooked long-grain rice
• 3 cups no-salt-added chicken broth
• 1 cup dry white wine
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
• 2 cups diced tomato
• 1 (9-ounce) package frozen artichoke hearts or 1 15oz can of artichoke hearts
  
• 3/4 cup bottled roasted red bell peppers, thinly sliced into strips

What You Do:

1. Preheat oven to 400º. If you're using rotissere chicken, skip the next two steps and go straight to step three.
2. If you are using raw chicken, heat 1 tablespoon oil in a Dutch oven over medium heat.
3. Add chicken and garlic; cook 7 minutes on each side or until lightly browned. Remove from pan. Set aside; keep warm.
4. Heat 1 tablespoon oil in pan over medium heat.
5. Add onion and rice and sauté 15 minutes or until rice is lightly browned.
6. Add broth and next 5 ingredients and bring to a boil.
7. Add chicken then top with tomato and artichokes.
8. Place in the oven and bake uncovered at 400º for 50 minutes, stirring then covering after 25 minutes.
9. Cook for 15 more minutes or until liquid is absorbed.
10. Stir well and top with pepper strips.

Mod Girl Bottoms-Up: a light, zesty Chardonnay or even a bright white table wine like the South African Goats do Roam white - which isn't gimmicky (despite the name) but is actually quite lovely - and at about $10 a bottle, it's a pretty good deal!

note: photo from stock.xchng.com

Mod Cat Mod Dog

Maggie (super sous-chef corgi) & Wellington (feline gourmand extraordinaire) are joining weekend dog & cat blogging...

Mod Girl Wisdom Pearl

'Proportion is not the cause of beauty in vegetables'
- Edmund Burke, On the Sublime and Beautiful, 1700's.

I discovered this little quotation today quite by accident, but it gave me a smile - and pause for thought. If vegetables can be beautiful without proportion, perhaps we can too...(and therein lies the mod girl musing for today)...back to the kitchen tomorrow...

How to Enjoy Miso

Outside.

Steaming in the chill of an early autumn evening, liquid the color of cured leaves - hot, swirling red, gold.

Let it glide down easy, widening the senses, steeping your insides in some cleansing meditation.

Open your eyes.

Breathe.

Taste.



Miso soup makes a good first course for sushi or Asian-inspired dishes, or a nourishing light meal. Purchase miso packets at most grocery stores (just add hot water) or make your own miso soup with this recipe.

Beautimous Buns

Nothing beats a couple of hot buns on a chilly day...

Smooth, round, touchably firm, just the right size for the palm of your hand...the mere thought sends me into a fit of reverie! Their heat, their scent, their allure -- all you need is a dab of butter to make them melt in your mouth. And you don't even need to go near a gym to find them.



Instead what you need is a couple of hours on a crisp autumn day, a pile of dried fruit and some latent desire for the first subtle hint of the holidays. (Note: since this is actually a modified Hot Cross Bun recipe, it technically doesn't matter which holiday...) There's simply something about dried fruit that always puts me in mind of Thanksgiving and Christmas. (And no, I'm not alluding to family).

Hot (Holiday) Buns

What You Need

I.

• 8 oz all-purpose flour (white or wheat)
• 2 oz sugar
• 3 or 4 handfuls of dried fruit (raisins, cranberries, tart cherries, sultanas, currants - you pick!)
• 1 tsp. all-spice
• 1 tsp. nutmeg
• 1/4 tsp. cinnamon
• pinch of salt

II.

• 1/4 pint milk
• 1/4 pint hot water minus 3 tablespoons
• 1 tsp. sugar
• 4 oz all-purpose flour (white or wheat - same as list I)
• 1 pkg. yeast
• 1 egg, beaten
• 2 oz melted butter

What You Do

1. Place all of the ingredients from list I in a large mixing bowl. Stir, then set aside.
2. Heat 1/4 pint milk in a small saucepan, being careful not to let it boil (remember, milk boils fast, so keep an eye on it!)
3. Pour the warmed milk into a jug and immediately add 1/4 point hot tap water (minus three tablespoons - don't ask why, just do it. This was a great-grandmother's recipe, there's a reason for it somewhere).
4. Add the yeast, sugar and flour to the milk and water, then stir until the mixture froths (this is a sign that the yeast has activated).
5. Add the egg and melted butter to the yeast mixture, then pour it into the mixing bowl containing the ingredients in list I.
6. Stir then knead the mixture until it forms a dough. (Note: if the mixture seems especially runny, don't panic - just keep on adding small amounts of flour until it comes together - a little faith and perhaps a strong whiskey are helpful at this juncture).
7. Turn the dough out onto a floured surface, crank up the stereo to something with a beat and knead for a good ten minutes - until the dough has acquired a smooth, elastic texture.
8. Pull off small lumps of dough and shape them into balls a little smaller than the palm of your hand.
   
9. Place the lumps on a floured baking sheet, cover it with a damp dishtowel and place in a warm spot until they have doubled in size. (This should take about two hours, longer if humidity is low).
10. Bake buns on 400F for 10 minutes. (Watch the bottoms carefully - you want hot, not burning, buns!)

Cool the buns on a wire rack then serve them warm with butter or sliced and toasted - with butter. Makes 12-16 depending upon size.

Perfect for brunches, breakfasts and afternoon snacks!

Thanks, But No Thanks

If you've ever been accused of looking at the world through rose-colored glasses a little too often, you'll understand when I say that so many meals always seem better in anticipation and in memory than they do while they're in progress. Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners are good examples of this phenomenon. In fact, I'm already looking at the cover of Bon Apetite's Thanksgiving issue, mental chef's hat pulled firmly on, imagining how easily the meat will fall under the sliding knife, how the potatoes will be creamed just so, the parsnips roasted to sweet, understated perfection, the carrots like pasta al dente - still with enough of a bite, and the desserts, oh, the desserts! The glorious array of homemade-made-from-scratch-from-an-ancestor's recipe pecan and pumpkin and apple pies.

The reality, of course, will be nothing like this at all.

To start with, I'm British and therefore not technically encompassed by the holiday (though now that I have lived here long enough to acquire citizenship this is, indeed, a mere technicality). Second, however, is the small fact that because I'm British, I don't actually have pecan and pumpkin and apple pie recipes passed down from my own mother - let alone any stalwart grandmothers or great grandmothers - so I'm on my own in that department. And third, I'm not even entirely sure where I'll be spending Thanksgiving this year -- so planning a menu is a little bit of a stretch.

But no matter where I spend the holiday, one thing is relatively certain. Thanksgiving is simply one of those meals that (much like holidays themselves) builds in one's imagination throughout the year, spurred on by the early arrival of the November issues of the aforementioned Bon Apetite, Martha Stewart Living, Gourmet, Real Simple, even Oprah (word is she cooks a mean corn fritter, by the way).

And this year - as with every other year - the more I gaze adoringly at that immaculately golden-skinned turkey dressed to perfection on the cover of Bon Apetite, the more I begin to believe that I too could pull of the kind of holiday meal usually reserved for Food Network specials and the pages of J. Crew's fall catalogue. That my friends and family will gather at my table wearing coordinating chinos, tie belts, wool skirts and cashmere sweaters adorned with little brooches. That each and every dish will be prepared and on the table at the same time at the same temperature. That the meat won't be too dry or the sweet potato casserole too sweet. That the bottle of wine will have been fortuitously opened exactly at its peak and there'll be just enough leftovers - but not too many.

Yes, this is the meal I believe I can create. Not just at Thanksgiving, for that matter, but year-round - you know, for dinner parties, brunches, those "quick weeknight dinners with friends" that Nigella and Jamie and Ina are so fond of writing about. In short, I will be the living, breathing, support-staff-free embodiment of all these celeb chefs combined. My name will be synonymous with gatherings pulled from the pages of Gourmet and Food and Wine! My food will be lauded by all who taste it! I will live in a state of glorious perfection!

Or perhaps not. If I am honest, the thought of working to pull off a meal like that (a feat I've attempted on numerous occasions) is certainly enjoyable (I'm a cook, after all) but it's also grueling, hard on the blood pressure and not, as it turns out, entirely necessary. After all, my parents and friends don't care if the greens are a minute late hitting the table, and while they might make a comment about the turkey if it's dry, they're certainly not going to criticize me for refusing to match my skirt with their chinos or forgetting to chill the wine let alone open it. And while good food and good presentation go hand in hand, I'm pretty sure that when given the choice, they'd rather enjoy a few extra minutes with me than a few extra seconds admiring my stacked plating technique.

And as far as the pecan pie, well, my mother buys that at the Fresh Market.

Louisiana Style

Crawfish or Shrimp and Rice Casserole

This is the first in a series of three recipes sent to me by my sister and it's a great reminder of New Orleans - easier than gumbo or risotto, but just as tasty and filling! This is a perfect meal to prepare for friends or to take elsewhere and it also freezes. There's plenty of room in this recipe for you to be as experimental and adventurous as you like, so don't hold back! Try adding spices like red pepper and turmeric, a cajun spice mix (I like Alchemy Spice Company's Bayou Ya Ya blend) or even a splash or two of Louisiana Hot Sauce to get this thing going! Serve with green vegetables, cornbread or crusty bread....and wash it down in true modern girl style with a big 'ole glass of zesty white wine. Or a Hurricane.

What You Need

• Cooking spray
• 1 cup chopped onion
• 1 cup chopped green bell pepper
• 2 pounds frozen cooked peeled and deveined crawfish tail meat, rinsed
• and drained or shrimp
• 4 ounces sharp cheddar cheese (you can substitute if you want!)
  
• 1 (6.5-ounce) tub light garlic-and-herbs spreadable cheese (such as Alouette Light)
• 1 (10 3/4-ounce) can condensed reduced-fat, reduced-sodium cream of mushroom soup, undiluted
• 5 cups cooked wild rice
• 1 cup chopped green onions
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 teaspoon ground red pepper

What You Do

1. Preheat oven to 350°.
2. Heat a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat.
   
3. Coat pan with cooking spray.
   
4. Add 1 cup onion and bell pepper; sauté 5 minutes or until tender.
   
5. Add crawfish and/or shrimp, cheeses, and soup.
   
6. Cook over medium heat until cheese melts, stirring occasionally.
   
7. Stir in wildrice and remaining ingredients.
   
8. Spoon into a 13 x 9-inch baking dish coated with cooking spray.
   
9. Bake at 350° for 30 minutes.
10. Serve hot.
    

Mod Girls World Watch

Food for ThoughtWhat You Need to Know
Even though this blog is primarily a how-to, replete with tips and hints for even the busiest of our high-heeled counterparts, I think we all know that any true modern girl also pays attention to the world at large...and as the author of this blog, I also believe that those of us fortunate enough to enjoy the luxury, not just of having food on our tables, but of having the time to read, write and talk about it too, also have a genuine responsibility to try to help those for whom food and choice are two vastly divergent concepts. The people who do not dine, as we in our respective styles are wont to do, but who eat, instead, simply to survive.

I'm not trying to preach here - far from it. Just offering something to chew on. After all, hot on the heels of the Niger famine, another African country is facing a similar food shortage. Already fraught with tension from an ages-long civil war, Africa's southern Sudan is staring a major food crisis right in the face -- as are so many other regions across the continent...read the full story here.

What You Can Do
Visit the International Federation the Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies to find out how you can help:

Closer to home, Katrina survivors also need food - one of the best ways to help them is to donate through your local Second Harvest Food Bank .

Finally, the United Nations World Food Programme might just be one of the most comprehensive resources for learning more about what's at stake - and where. Visit them at www.wfp.org.

Williams-Sonoma...the Godfather of Classic Kitchen Style Hits 90

All this news about Chuck Williams's 90th birthday prompts a quick comment...after all, if it wasn't for all those babysitting hours spent poring over Williams-Sonoma catalogues when I was in high school (and still setting fire to hotdogs in the microwave), well, where would I be today?
(Probably in just the same place, actually). Anyway, even though I'm a huge proponent of local businesses like Mia Cucina - www.theplaceforcooks.com - I have to confess that the Williams-Sonoma catalogue(along with a select few others - you know who they are, I'm sure) was one of the few big retail brands to sucessfully hypnotize me with marketing mystique, seductive photography and fanciful copy to which even I (a copywriter and writer by trade) had to succumb. After all, who doesn't want to serve a big mound of carbonara out of an appropriately rustic Tuscan Olive serving set with matching bowls? And who doesn't want to decorate their table with authentic, hand-printed Provencal table linens made by some quaint little housewife tucked away on a hillside farm in Southern France? How does the saying go - if you can't join 'em, fake it? Thanks Chuck - I, for one, am enjoying the fantasy.

Read more on Bill Sonoma's 90th (he's still kicking and still working!) here:

Miami Herald
The Ledger
San Francisco Chronicle
Monterey County Herald

Rainy Day Veggies

IMG_0958
Originally uploaded by ohjusttri.

Beautiful, buxom veggies to brighten a rainy day...Here's a quick shot of farm fresh produce in the Jesse James Cheese Shop in Cirencester, Gloucestershire. Tucked down a non-descript alley in a building almost as old as the Roman ruins for which the town is famous (well, that and the fact that Prince Charles & Camilla are the resident "notable locals"), the shop features handmade, artisanal cheeses from around the region, all amassed in rows of wooden cheeseboards, knives at the ready, just begging to be tasted -- a Sommerset Camembert (pictured at the bottom of this blog) fairly oozing off the shelf, a Hereford Hop so perfect you can simultaneously taste each and every ingredient separately and in concert...all on a bright sunny English summer day. Ahhhh.

Julia's Not the Only Game in Town...

Sure, Julia is widely considered the authority on French cooking - especially when it comes to taking us from basics to haute cuisine...but this little volume by one of France's own widely-respected chefs, Henri-Paul Pellaprat, is an authority unto itself.

Written for an American kitchen, Everyday French Cooking starts us with guidance on menus, wines, "culinary know-how" and sauces, then walks us through the Hors d'Oeuvre, Entree, eggs, soups, fish, shellfish and frogs legs (yes, frogs legs have their own chapter), meat, poultry, even leftovers...and, of course, no French cookbook would be complete without extensive writings on desserts - and Pellaprat's tome is no exception, covering dessert sauces, fillings, frostings, pastries and simple confectionary-- including beautiful apple and pear charlottes, almond macaroons and an array of cakes, flans and tarts). It may not be as extensive as Julia's masterworks, but it's certainly the perfect side to her entree, with easy directions, fascinating and uber-traditional recipes (Pigs Feet Sainte-Menehould, anyone? How about Poached Eel?) to quintessentially classic (think basic consomme, perfect risotto, coq au vin and grilled chateaubriand), interspersed with great examples of gaudy seventies photography (ahhh). This is definitely one of my favorite cookbooks, found in absolutely immaculate condition one freezing, snowy afternoon in a used bookstore in Cleveland, Ohio for a mere six dollars...now that's a value meal!

The Great Big Breakfast Dilemma

I'm not a cereal person, unless it's oatmeal. And I'm not an oatmeal person unless I need some real fueling-up. So some mornings I'm a toast person, others, a bagel. And some days nothing appeals and I just can't decide. What to conclude from this? I'm not a breakfast person. And I am daily presented with what one might dub a breakfast dilemma. Luckily, I have discovered one easy option - "instant" fruit muffins. I've taken these as mini-muffins straight from the oven to my friends' bi-weekly brunch gatherings and I've also made a week's worth of full-size muffins just for me...all in fifteen minutes (or less!). Theoretically, you could make a whole load of these at once and stick them in the freezer til you need them -- then again, they're so fast and so good out of the oven, why would you want to?

What You Need
The secret? As a usually die-hard make-it-from-scratcher it hurts to tell...a packet of White Lily muffin mix (blackberry, blueberry or strawberry) and some fresh or fresh-frozen fruit -- frozen blueberries are ideal, as are frozen blackberries and raspberries. Choose fresh, chopped strawberries over frozen, though.

What You Do
And the magic? Make up the mix, dump in a handful or two (your call) of still-frozen fruit (try a blend for real flavor), give it a stir, fill up your muffin pan (six large or a dozen mini) and bake on 350F for ten to fifteen minutes. Before baking sprinkle the muffin tops with a good handful of wheat germ for an extra crunch and voila. Breakfast is solved!

Links Make the World Go Round

The links list is growing! Check out two local Chattanooga, Tennessee companies, the Alchemy Spice Company and Mia Cucina - the Place for Cooks. Alchemy grinds and hand-blends its own natural spices in all kinds of great combinations, while Mia Cucina takes kitchenalia, cooking classes and just plain cool stuff to a whole new level with its storefront/cooking school combo...Check out the class schedules online at Mia Cucina's site (and pick up an Alchemy Spice blend while you're in the store itself!). As far as other links go, send in your favorite food-related links -- other blogs, mag sites and retail url's and let's get this list rocking!

Party Tricks...the Mushroom Tart

Every girl needs a tart at her party...

Like every good modern girl (before she realizes she's modern), I served time in the Junior League. At least, I did in theory. Our relationship was fleeting (I'll spare the grim details) but it also one that, in spite of it all, still managed to leave a pleasant taste in my mouth. In this case, it was the taste of these delicious mushroom tarts – developed on the basis of a recipe in one of the local JL's old cookbooks. These tarts are always a hit - delightfully delicate, sinfully easy and another great standby for those in-a-pinch moments we all get caught in from time to time: load the freezer with a few trays of these and you'll be set for the duration. Who knew the Junior League turned out such good tarts?

What You Need:

• 2 tablespoons butter
• 1 shallot, chopped
• 2 garlic cloves, chopped
• 1 pound mushrooms, coarsely chopped - baby bellas are perfect and readily available; cremini, portobello, shiitake, morel, and oyster are ideal for amping up the wow factor (read: if your boss, future in-laws or otherwise noteworthy persons will be present)
  
• 8 ounces goat cheese
• 1/4 cup truffle or olive oil
• 1/4 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped
• Salt and pepper, to taste
• 60 phyllo-pastry tartlet shells, packaged
• Garnish: sliced mushroom, chopped chives

What You Do:

1. In a large saute pan over medium heat, melt butter. Add the shallot and garlic, stirring constantly for 1 minute. Add the chopped mushrooms. Cook until the mushrooms begin to soften, about 5 minutes. Transfer the mushroom mixture to a food processor and add the goat cheese. Add the oil and parsley. Pulse until the mixture comes together. Season with salt and pepper and pulse again.

1. Spoon mushroom filling into tartlet shells and place on a baking sheet. Bake in a preheated 350 degree oven for 10 minutes. Garnish with sliced mushroom and chopped chive before serving.

Classic Comfort Food...the Shepherd's Pie

And you don't even need real shepherds...

There are fewer dishes more comforting and easier to make than shepherd’s pie. It's part of that great British repertoire we like to call "nursery food"... for grown-ups. Shepherd’s Pie is equally at home in a large, “feed-the-forces” baking dish as it is in more elegant (and practical) individual casseroles (I love the Emile Henri miniature oven dishes - they’re the perfect size for these kinds of meals, they're available in gorgeous colors, and they also go straight from freezer to oven to table).

Shepherd’s Pie is also the ideal solution for leftover ground beef or lamb - if you don't feel like eating them the next day, make a couple anyway and stick them in the freezer until you do - they beat frozen South Beach meals any day.

If you haven’t got leftovers, you can make Shepherd's Pies easily from scratch, and if you want to pad out the meal into something more than a quick weeknight dinner, serve them with a carrot soup starter and a side of green vegetables. Stick with the comfort food theme by following up with a warm bread pudding or treacle tart.

What You Need:
Note: there are lots of options and variations for Shepherd's Pie, so I'll start with the basics and let you experiment from there. Parsnips, leeks and other root vegetables are good additions if you're so inclined, as is a bit of brown gravy. They aren't, however, requirements - and you can still enjoy a good Shepherd's Pie without such hoity-toity amendments.

• 1 1b ground beef or lamb
• four or five carrots, sliced
  
• one celery stalk, sliced
  
• 1 cup frozen peas (optional)
• 1/2 medium onion, chopped
  
• 1 cube of beef stock (optional)
• brown gravy (mixed from a packet)
  
• 4 or 5 medium potatoes, mashed
• One large or three or four small/mini casserole dishes
  

What You Do:

1. Steam or nuke the carrots until soft then set them aside.
   
2. Dilute the beef stock cube in 1/2 cup of warm water and set aside.
   
3. Soften the onion and celery in a large skillet.
4. Add the ground beef or lamb and cook until brown.
5. Add the carrots, peas and beef stock.
   
6. Simmer until the mixture is reduced and is relatively thick. If you prefer a more sauce-like consistency, this is the moment to add brown gravy and a blob of tomato ketchup.
7. Spread the meat mixture across the bottom of the casserole dish in one layer.
8. Spread the mashed potatoes over the meat mixture, making sure it's all covered.
   
9. If you want, sprinkle some grated cheddar cheese over the top of the potatoes.
10. Bake, uncovered, on 350 F for 30 minutes or until the potatoes are slightly brown and crisp on top. (If you find the cheese is burning, cover the dish loosely with a sheet of tin foil).

Behold the Profiterole!

Pretty, Pouffy and Perfectly Divine...
Profiteroles (prof-it-er-oles) look a whole lot more impressive than they actually are, which makes them an excellent conclusion to a good dinner party (especially if it includes a few hard-to-please guests!).

They’re also a lot lighter than most chocolatey desserts - especially if you use the traditional whipped cream instead of the icecream recommended by a lot of American versions of the recipe.

I actually use two different recipes for these profiteroles - this simple choux pastry recipe is quick and easy - and can be adapted for all kinds of other sweet and savory incarnations. The chocolate sauce, though, is all my mother’s circa 1979. It’s as sweet and glossy and smooth as you could ever imagine, and it’s the perfect complement to the savory pastry and the cream.

What You Need:

• 1 stick unsalted butter
• 1 cup milk
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 4 eggs
• pinch salt

What You Do:

1. Melt the butter and milk together in a non-stick saucepan (you can also use a regular saucepan, but non-stick makes clean-up a lot easier!). As soon as the butter and milk have melted together, add the flour into the saucepan and keep stirring until it forms a dough - it will bind together relatively quickly, but make sure you keep stirring until it has formed a smooth dough (a wooden spoon works best for this).
2. Transfer the dough into either a mixing bowl or the bowl of a food processor. Add the eggs and salt and mixed together until the dough is smooth and the eggs are completely blended (the dough will become looser and will turn a deep yellow thanks to the egg yolks).
3. Spoon the dough into a pastry bag and pipe one-inch mounds onto a non-stick cookie sheet (silicon or “silpat” sheets are fabulous for this). The mounds should be about 3/4 inch tall and you can dab down the tips with one finger. Place them in a pre-heated, 425F oven for about 20 minutes or until puffed and golden brown. It’s a good idea to let the baked puffs sit in the oven for a few more minutes to firm up and dry out, although you may want to take them out for a moment and pierce the bottoms to let steam escape.
4. When puffs are cooled, you can store them in an airtight container for a few days or freeze them. If you’re planning on using them immediately, gently slice each puff through the middle and fill with pastry cream or whipped cream. If you're feeling adventurous (or just want to liven things up a bit) vanilla, chocolate, coffee, mint or strawberry icecream makes a cool change. No matter what you choose, top the filled puffs with perfect chocolate sauce (below).
   

Perfect Chocolate Sauce

What You Need:

• 4 oz semi-sweet chocolate (broken pieces of baking chocolate or chocolate chips work well, but remember, the higher the quality of your chocolate, the better the sauce!).
• 1/2 oz margerine or butter (I prefer butter)
• 2 tblsp water
• 2 level tblsp Golden Syrup* or honey

What You Do:

Melt the chocolate and butter over a double boiler (always melt chocolate over a double boiler to diffuse the heat and prevent burning — believe me, there is nothing worse than getting your tastebuds set for chocolate then burning it all…). Add the water and golden syrup and keep stirring until the sauce is smooth. Remove the sauce from heat until ready to serve (at that point, I’ve found it’s helpful to reheat it slightly so that it maintains its glossy, fluid consistency).

Serve three profiteroles to a plate, drizzling them with generous amounts of sauce (Mod Girls Kitchen Rule #1: You can never have - or use - too much chocolate). That being said...remember, the key to this dessert is moderation — making grotesquely obese pastry puffs filled with giant globs of icecream will transform an otherwise elegant finale into nothing more than Franken-food (Mod Girls Kitchen Rule #2: No Franken-Food).

Note: Lyle’s Golden Syrup* is a British product that can be found in a lot of gourmet markets, international markets, European specialty shops and some supermarkets. If you can’t find golden syrup, honey* is a suitable alternative and makes an equally divine sauce.

*Remember - the * means this is a great ingredient to have on hand, so stock up!

Peach & Pine Nut Tart

It's peach season...and this is the perfect party tart - quick, simple and a big hit with my fellow book club girls! You can create all kinds of variations of this rustic tart once you get the hang of it - the basic ingredients are simple (as is the process)...peaches that are still slightly hard are best for this as I've found that very ripe peaches tend to make the pastry too soggy and the tart too watery. Instead, choose fruit that's still a bit on the firm side.


A few of the following ingredients (starred) are great items to keep on hand for those times that you're "in a pinch" and need something impressive (and inexpensive) to take along (to a book club or dinner with friends, for instance). That way you can whip this thing up in a heartbeat!

What you need:

• 1 sheet ready-made frozen puff pastry* (thawed)
• 4 large or 6 medium peaches
• apricot jam* (approximately 1/8-1/4 cup)
• handful of pine nuts*
• unsalted butter* (2-3 tablespoons, melted)

What you do:

1. Cut the peaches into pretty, relatively thin slices (the thinner you make each wedge, the fancier the tart will look - about 1/8" is probably about right).
   
2. Roll out the puff pastry into a square or rectangle that's about 10" x 10". Be careful not to make it too thin or you'll have a hard time moving the tart!
   
3. Nuke a glob of butter in the microwave then brush the entire surface of the pastry lightly with the melted butter.
4. Roll the edges of the pastry in about 1/4" to make a crust, brushing surfaces with melted butter to help them stick (make sure all the exposed crust has been brushed with butter before baking).
   
5. Arrange peach slices in rows down the center of the tart making sure each wedge faces the same direction.
6. Sprinkle a handful of pine nuts across the peach slices (I like to do this in lines between the rows of peach slices, but if that's too anal just throw them on anyhow).
7. Bake at 400F for 10-15 minutes - until pastry has fluffed up and browned and the peach slices are clearly baked. Don't worry if the center of the tart appears to puff up as you bake - it will go back down again when you take it from the oven!
8. Nuke the apricot jam in the microwave then "glaze" the entire tart with it, peaches and all, pouring some of the jam in between the cracks in the fruit slices to fill in any gaps. Let the tart cool before serving.
   

Whipped cream or vanilla icecream make mouthwatering accompaniments for this on a summer day, but nothing beats a slice of cold tart and a good hot cafe au lait as a mid-afternoon snack...

welcome!

Welcome to the Modern Girls' Guide to the Kitchen - this site is designed to provide recipes, tips, links and ideas for cooking, baking and entertaining in the real world. You know, the one where you'd like to spend five hours grinding your own spices or preparing to make vanilla essence from a bottle of vodka and a few empty salad dressing bottles but, truth be known, most of the time you'd rather buy the spices, drink the vodka and settle for take-out.

That being said, this is certainly a site for those of us who - in spite of our schedules or perhaps because of them - love to cook, bake and generally experiment with food. We also love to entertain (even if we do spend more time watching Party Girl, Easy Entertaining, Barefoot Contessa and all the Martha specials than we do actually hosting guests in our own homes).

The thing is, most of those shows (okay, all of them) assume we have an unlimited budget and an endless supply of white table linens - I have neither.