It's November. I'm in Portland. The leaves are falling. The winter rains have arrived. It's dark by 5pm. Those last two sentences sound somber and, indeed, make this time a year a bit trying, especially for someone who loves warmth and sun. However, my attention turns to Thanksgiving and that brightens my spirits on many levels.
My young adult children, both living in New York City, will come home for Thanksgiving weekend. My son, Eric, is bringing his girlfriend, Laura. Our closest friends, Harriet and Peter Watson, along with their son David will be joining us for dinner. (Plus, their pooch, my goddog, Charlie.) The dinner will also include my close friend Leslie Breaux. That makes nine--a boisterous fun group. My first list is complete--who's coming to T-Day dinner.
Now, I start my other lists. What's the menu? What am I preparing and who is bringing what. My daughter, Molly, now 22 and living in an apartment, wants to help. She has told me on several occasions that I am not allowed to start cooking until she arrives home on Tuesday night. In my planning world, that is a day too late. (Not to worry, Molly, there will be plenty left to do.) What type of turkey do I want this year (heritage, free-range and natural, free-range organic) and what size should I buy? (Likely, 18 pounds, this is a hungry group). I will order my turkey by November 10th--two weeks in advance.
The family's favorites, all from my original Thanksgiving cookbook, The Thanksgiving Table, will make the list: Praline Sweet Potato Casserole; Cranberry Chutney; Bread Stuffing with Apples, Bacon, and Caramelized Onions; Chiffonade of Brussels Sprouts with Diced Bacon and Oregon Hazelnuts; Gratin of Fennel and Tomato; Butter-Rubbed Roast Turkey with an Apple Cider Brine; Blueberry-Cranberry Pie and Pumpkin Pie with a Toasted Pecan Crust. I'll try to sneak in a few new things, perhaps some pre-dinner nibbles, a seasonal salad, and another vegetable side dish. Not wanting to fill up on soup, I thought it might be fun to have "soup shots" as a starter. With all the squash in the market, my recipe for Delicata Squash Soup with Roasted Apples sounds warming and perfect as a "shot" because it is pureed.
More lists to write, but that's the fun part and it helps keep the day fairly stress free. There is great satisfaction in crossing off a completed task. The grocery list is divided between an early shopping list for non-perishables and a Monday-before-list for the fresh produce. I'll organize another to-do list for planning my cooking and timing.
For me, with so many Thanksgiving dinners at home, I know I have plenty of dishes, glasses, wineglasses, and silverware. Heaven knows, I have enough cookware to stock a store. My All-Clad roasting pan and V-shaped have held many a bird and lead my arsenal of holiday cooking equipment. When asked, I suggest cooks buy an instant-read thermometer, a carving board with a moat and well to catch the juices when carving a bird, and a thin long-bladed knife for carving.
All this is making me hungry. I'll have to do with a simple turkey sandwich for now, but the best ones are made from roast turkey leftovers, a big smear of mayonnaise and a dollop or two of cranberry sauce, of course.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Thursday, May 1, 2008
For The Love of Words and Fear of The Typo
A dedicated reader e-mailed me and questioned the quantity of olive oil listed in my recipe for "Flank Steak Thinly Sliced over Arugula with Garlic and Lemon Oil" that appears on page 41 of my new cookbook Grill Every Day (Chronicle Books, May 2008). I dashed to the kitchen, opened the book, and looked at the recipe. Indeed, to my dismay, the ingredient list has the quantity of olive oil listed as 2 1/4 cups. The right amount of lemon-infused olive oil is 1/4 cup.
Where did the "2" come from? I went back to the final edited manuscript on my computer and there is no "2," only the right amount, which is 1/4 cup. I looked back at the color proofs and there is the damn number 2!
In my compulsive way, I went through every recipe in the book, looking at the ingredient list and comparing it to my edited manuscript. Fortunately, I didn't find any other errors.
This is an author's nightmare. From turned-in manuscript through the editing process, and throughout the design process, text is changed, clarified, and enhanced (with author approval, of course) and the text is manipulated to fit the design of the book. Then, in the proofing process, there are copy editors, managing editors, and the author scanning the book again to look for errors. It is always at this stage that final questions are asked and inconsistencies are discovered. For instance, pecans toasted in a 400 degree oven in one recipe might suggest an 8 minute baking time for best results. In another recipe, walnuts might need 10 minutes to toast to golden brown. The author would be queried as to whether this is correct or a typo because the baking times are different.
These are tedious, necessary steps. When the author hits the "Send" button to approve the corrections, there is always a moment of hesitation. Did she see everything? Did she check every headnote, ingredient list, measurement. The hope, of course, is yes. But, honestly, no matter how many eyes look upon a book, there will be something, big or small, that is missed.
In this instance, thankfully, I explain in the last step of the directions to drizzle one tablespoon of the lemon-infused oil over each portion of flank steak. The careful reader and cook, hopefully, will realize that there are 4 servings suggested, which means four tablespoons (1/4 cup) of lemon oil are needed, not 2 1/4 cups!!!
Whew, I knew I had to write and let you all know! It's a fabulous recipe and I suspect a popular one in the book.
The irony of the story is that I received the e-mail from this reader yesterday, and I was planning to make this very recipe for dinner last night. I had shopped in the morning and the flank steak was in the refrigerator along with fresh arugula. I wonder if I would have read the recipe carefully enough to catch the error. Afterall, I know the recipe well--I wrote it!!
My thanks to this dedicated reader and cook to let me know.
Where did the "2" come from? I went back to the final edited manuscript on my computer and there is no "2," only the right amount, which is 1/4 cup. I looked back at the color proofs and there is the damn number 2!
In my compulsive way, I went through every recipe in the book, looking at the ingredient list and comparing it to my edited manuscript. Fortunately, I didn't find any other errors.
This is an author's nightmare. From turned-in manuscript through the editing process, and throughout the design process, text is changed, clarified, and enhanced (with author approval, of course) and the text is manipulated to fit the design of the book. Then, in the proofing process, there are copy editors, managing editors, and the author scanning the book again to look for errors. It is always at this stage that final questions are asked and inconsistencies are discovered. For instance, pecans toasted in a 400 degree oven in one recipe might suggest an 8 minute baking time for best results. In another recipe, walnuts might need 10 minutes to toast to golden brown. The author would be queried as to whether this is correct or a typo because the baking times are different.
These are tedious, necessary steps. When the author hits the "Send" button to approve the corrections, there is always a moment of hesitation. Did she see everything? Did she check every headnote, ingredient list, measurement. The hope, of course, is yes. But, honestly, no matter how many eyes look upon a book, there will be something, big or small, that is missed.
In this instance, thankfully, I explain in the last step of the directions to drizzle one tablespoon of the lemon-infused oil over each portion of flank steak. The careful reader and cook, hopefully, will realize that there are 4 servings suggested, which means four tablespoons (1/4 cup) of lemon oil are needed, not 2 1/4 cups!!!
Whew, I knew I had to write and let you all know! It's a fabulous recipe and I suspect a popular one in the book.
The irony of the story is that I received the e-mail from this reader yesterday, and I was planning to make this very recipe for dinner last night. I had shopped in the morning and the flank steak was in the refrigerator along with fresh arugula. I wonder if I would have read the recipe carefully enough to catch the error. Afterall, I know the recipe well--I wrote it!!
My thanks to this dedicated reader and cook to let me know.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Not So Gadget Crazy, But Crazy For This Gadget
As a cookbook author and cooking school teacher, my kitchen drawers are filled, over-stuffed really, with kitchen gadgets. Some I have purchased, some I have acquired as gifts, and some have been sent by manufacturers for me to preview.
I was teaching a class in Eugene, Oregon at Cook's, Pots, and Tabletops and at the end of the class, after the students had left and I was organizing myself to leave, the owner, Kathy Campbell, noticed me smirking at the collection of "onion goggles" sitting by the cash register. It's true, I picked up the sleek looking vinyl package of what looked like a cross between sports glasses and chemistry goggles with a wonkish tilt towards geeky eyewear. These were black frames with a lime green center band running down the length of the eyeglasses' stems. The curious part was the black dense foam framing each lense on the inside.
Kathy has a quick laugh and dry wit and thought it would be amusing to have me try them on. I did. They looked riduculous in a pith-helmet wearing, biker-chick sort of way. "Here," said Kathy, "I want you to have these as a present from me." "OK, I'll give'em a trial run." And I set them in my bag.
About a week later, I was cooking and needed to chop several onions. I remembered the onion googles and pulled them out of the drawer. What Kathy didn't know, and actually my students never know, is that I cry buckets of tears when I chop onions or mince shallots. My eyes well with tears, my nose runs, I'm a mess by the end of an onion or two. Secretly, it's the task I always give to my assistant at the cooking schools. Prepped ahead and ready for the class, onions or shallots are transferred from prep bowl to saute pan with neary a tear shed.
I donned the googles and with knife in hand I cut the onion in half--down the center, right through the sulfurous root end--and peeled back the papery, brown skins. I proceeded to coarsely chop the onion. NO tears. Then I chopped a second onion and there were no tears and no sniffles, no runny nose to stop and wipe. These worked with shallots as well.
Who invented these? A clever chemist? A dedicated cook? They work! They're amazing! And, yes, I look ridiculous wearing them, but it beats the red, wet eyes, runny nose and smeared mascara.
A keeper of a gadget!
I was teaching a class in Eugene, Oregon at Cook's, Pots, and Tabletops and at the end of the class, after the students had left and I was organizing myself to leave, the owner, Kathy Campbell, noticed me smirking at the collection of "onion goggles" sitting by the cash register. It's true, I picked up the sleek looking vinyl package of what looked like a cross between sports glasses and chemistry goggles with a wonkish tilt towards geeky eyewear. These were black frames with a lime green center band running down the length of the eyeglasses' stems. The curious part was the black dense foam framing each lense on the inside.
Kathy has a quick laugh and dry wit and thought it would be amusing to have me try them on. I did. They looked riduculous in a pith-helmet wearing, biker-chick sort of way. "Here," said Kathy, "I want you to have these as a present from me." "OK, I'll give'em a trial run." And I set them in my bag.
About a week later, I was cooking and needed to chop several onions. I remembered the onion googles and pulled them out of the drawer. What Kathy didn't know, and actually my students never know, is that I cry buckets of tears when I chop onions or mince shallots. My eyes well with tears, my nose runs, I'm a mess by the end of an onion or two. Secretly, it's the task I always give to my assistant at the cooking schools. Prepped ahead and ready for the class, onions or shallots are transferred from prep bowl to saute pan with neary a tear shed.
I donned the googles and with knife in hand I cut the onion in half--down the center, right through the sulfurous root end--and peeled back the papery, brown skins. I proceeded to coarsely chop the onion. NO tears. Then I chopped a second onion and there were no tears and no sniffles, no runny nose to stop and wipe. These worked with shallots as well.
Who invented these? A clever chemist? A dedicated cook? They work! They're amazing! And, yes, I look ridiculous wearing them, but it beats the red, wet eyes, runny nose and smeared mascara.
A keeper of a gadget!
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
What's on My Plate Today
I'm Not a big gadget person, but I have discovered a truly amazing gadget--the onion goggles!
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