How to Fête a Friend for Fifty

If you really want to celebrate a friend’s birthday in a big way what you need are several cases of expensive Champagne. Luckily, Monique had that covered. Apparently there really are people who drink Dom like water. I think I’ll take up the habit, as soon as I make my millions. Then I can have a few assistants, an apartment in Madrid, and access to David Beckham’s box seats, too.

Anyway, dear John was celebrating a big birthday, and personally I was shocked since he looks about ten years younger. The secrets are regular facials and honey wheat hair color number seven. Someone should have told Alan Greenspan. The party was taken care of, but I wanted to bring a little something as a favor, you know, besides the cheesy images we had printed on mugs. John loves all things Dutch, he speaks German and Dutch and we go to celebrate Flanders Day at the embassy, with Chimay on tap and freshly made waffles. He is also one of the few people I know who likes licorice, so I wanted to encorporate that into what I was making. I’ll admit I stole this idea for a movie camera made of licorice wheels from Martha, I mean no-one is actually that crafty on their own. Or at least they don't admit to it, ahem.
I put my cameras on these delicious chocolate cookie bases (you could do the same decoration on top of chocolate cake or brownies), and I took red icing to the party so I could make a little star background and write 'happy birthday' or 'you’re a star' on them. Unfortunately, I didn’t quite bring enough and I only got to “Happy B...” before I ran out. Uhhh. So the lesson is, always bring extra icing. Besides that, people might not realize these are wholly edible, in which case you’ll have to break them into chunks in front of your shocked guests. Don’t worry, the horror will fade from their faces as soon as they taste them.

It was a lovely party, and even though I was plied with way more champagne than I should have had, Monique was right when she said, “don’t worry, it’s the good stuff, you won’t feel it in the morning.” I awoke rested and skipped happily down to the DuPont Circle Farmer’s Market. You’ll hear more about that later, but for now, happy birthday to John, who really is a star.



Chocolate Cookie Movie Stars

1 recipe chocolate cookie dough
powdered sugar
2 oz melted chocolate
licorice pinwheels

1. Roll out chocolate cookie dough and cut into squares about 6-8 inches wide, you should have 3 squares. Place the squares on parchment-lined or greased baking sheets. Prick the dough in several places with a toothpick, then place in the freezer to chill for at least 10 minutes.
2. Bake the squares in a 350 degree oven for 15-18 minutes, until crisp but not darkened. Let cool completely.
3. Sift powdered sugar over the squares. Use melted chocolate the adhere the licorice pieces to the cookie base for the camera’s wheels, lens, and feet. Use the remaining melted chocolate to make a box for the camera body.
4. Use colored icing to draw stars around the edges or write a message.
________

Chocolate Cookies

Is it possible to fall in love with a dough? A dough so delicious you want to eat it all before it's even baked, a dough so beautifully black and full of rich chocolatey flavor, a dough so smooth and supple under your rolling pin, a dough that makes you want to make all your future tarts with it as a crust? I think it just might be. They make perfect chocolate cookies on their own, can be sandwiched with a cream filling for a homemade Oreo cookie, and make a great tart crust. What more could you want?


Basic Chocolate Cookies
No matter how you choose to use it, this dough makes a wonderfully dark buttery crisp confection, almost like shortbread. The dough can be a tad sticky, just make sure to refrigerate it if it gets soft.

1 1/2 cups flour
2/3 cup cocoa powder
1/4 tsp salt
12 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 1/4 cups confectioners sugar
1 large egg
1 tsp vanilla

1. In a large bowl, sift together flour, cocoa, and salt. Set mixture aside.
2. Cream together butter and sugar until fluffy. Beat in egg and vanilla.
3. Fold in flour mixture just until combined. Wrap dough in plastic. Chill at least 1 hour.
4. Heat oven to 350 degrees. On a floured surface, roll dough to 1/8 inch thick. Cut into desired shapes. Transfer to ungreased baking sheets; refrigerate or freeze until firm, 15 minutes. Bake for 10 minutes for medium-sized cookies, until crisp but not darkened. Cool on wire racks; use as desired.

For Sandwich Cookies: Combine 4 tablespoons butter and 4 tablespoons shortening. Sift in 2 cups powdered sugar until smooth. Flavor with one of the following:

- 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
- 1/2 teaspoon peppermint extract
- 2 tablespoons lemon, orange, or grapefruit zest
- 1/3 cup shredded coconut and/or 1/2 teaspoon coconut extract
- 1 tablespoon instant espresso powder

See also: Chocolate Cookie Movie Stars

The Simple Life

More and more I’m beginning to appreciate the joy that comes from the small things in life. The little anticipation as I pick up the Sunday paper, waiting to see what’s inside it’s many pages. Looking forward to Fridays, or going out in the morning and checking on my tomato plants, seeing which ones have new blossoms or tiny fruits. This Wednesday is the day for newspaper recycling, and I actually got a little excited thinking about it (I know, that’s sort of pathetic, but it also means getting rid of the stacks cluttered by the stairs). It’s those small pleasures that can bring a little excitement and which carry us from day to day.

Take last week for example, we went to the farmer’s market early Saturday morning as usual, where we found our favorite greens-guys were selling pea shoots. We eagerly picked some up, and remembering a good friend who always loves pea shoots at dim sum, called her to tell her about our find. After exchanging pea-shoot news, she told us she was giving away all her vinyl (having upgraded to an iPod), and we were welcome to come over and pick out some of her old records. We took her a small bag of greens, and came home with a treasury of Persian records, Leonard Cohen, and archival folk songs. That evening, I dragged the old record player out of a closet and dug up my favorite Mercedes Sosa album that my mom bought in Argentina in 1982. It was a perfect early summer evening and we opened all the doors and cranked up the volume loud enough to annoy the neighbors, clanked wine glasses and danced on the porch. I can’t think of a better lineage for a Saturday.

The next day, I took our pea shoots and lightly steamed them with a little oil. After piling them on a platter, I went out into the garden and raided our plants for some nasturtium blossoms and got a few tiny chive flowers from the herb garden (only use the smallest youngest chive blossoms otherwise they’ll be too strong). It was a simple natural evolution of a dish, and added up to something beautiful. We had it for dinner with some buttered carrots and radishes and baked crab cakes, and after watching a DVD, indulged in one of my favorite simple pleasures. Going to bed early. The little things.



Steamed Pea Shoots with Nasturtium and Chive Blossoms
Pea shoots are the young tender vine-like leaves of pea plants. Their pea-flavored leaves are excellent in salads and stir fries; they are popular in Chinese cuisine, where they are known as dou miao. Look for pea shoots in farmers’ markets or Asian markets. You want only tender new growth: taste-test the shoots and tendrils and discard any tough or stringy bits, keeping only the tender leaves and stems.

Nasturtiums or other edible flowers make a pretty garnish. Use only the youngest smallest chive flowers or they will be too strong and pungent, or substitute a few chopped chives.

1 bag pea shoots
2 tbl sesame oil
nasturtiums
a few very young chive blossoms

1. Prepare a vegetable steamer or a colander set over a pot of boiling water. Use scissors to trim pea shoots into short segments, about 3 inches each. Trim away and discard any very thick stems or tough tendrils (I find the tendrils in particular have a tendency to be stringy, so either trim them into short lengths or discard them).
2. Toss the pea shoots with the sesame oil. Working in batches, very lightly steam the pea shoots until they are bright green but not wilted. Transfer the pea shoots to a serving platter and season with salt. Scatter nasturtiums and chives over top and serve.

More pea shoot recipes:
Pea Tendril and Daikon Noodle Salad
Strawberry and Pea Shoot Toasts with Pepper Jelly
Sesame Pea-Shoot Salad
______

Raspberry-Ricotta Éclairs

One of the nice things about cooking is that it is a constant cycle of discovery and evolution. Oftentimes, I'll have bought a new ingredient to use in a recipe, and then I'm stuck with the leftovers, and in the effort to use them up, I'll try out a new recipe, and so goes a cycle of learning and trying new things. Sometimes, I end up making things I never would have tried, even dishes I thought I might not like, in a last-ditch effort not to let food go to waste. In that way, cooking is not just a process of learning new techniques and dishes, but also expanding my own tastebuds, developping an appreciation for a variety of foods and cuisines I might never have eaten otherwise.

When I made a Gateau a little while ago, I had some extra choux paste dough, so I piped them into little logs for éclairs. Now, I have to say I don't like éclairs, but I figured someone would and I couldn't bear to let that dough go to waste (especially after the arm-strength expended to stir it). I stirred up some ricotta and raspberries we had in the fridge for a filling. And I have to say those éclairs I never would have dreamed of making were pretty darn good. The filling is delicious, and would also be great sandwiched between some cookies or as part of a napoleon. These won praise from a pastry-loving friend; as for me, I'm still not a huge fan of éclairs, but hey, it's a learning process.


Raspberry-Ricotta Éclairs
I like the crunch that comes from using fresh raspberries, however, if you don't like the seeds, you can use seedless raspberry jam instead.

for the choux paste dough:
1 cup water
2 tbl butter
1 tbl sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup flour
3 eggs
for the filling:
1 cup ricotta cheese, as fresh as possible
1/3 cup cream cheese
1/2 cup powdered sugar
1 tbl vanilla extract
1 cup raspberries

1. Make the éclair shells: Preheat the oven to 425. Put the water, butter, sugar, and salt in a saucepan and bring to a full rolling boil. You want the butter to be completely dispersed in the water. Turn the burner to low and sift the flour over the water. Use a wooden spoon to stir the dough together until it is smooth and pulls away from the side of the pan. Remove the pan from the heat.
2. The next step can be done by hand, but it takes quite a lot of arm-strength, so it is best done with a stand mixer. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating each one until it is fully encorporated. The dough should have the consistency of mayonnaise.
3. Transfer the dough to a piping bag, line a baking sheet with silpat or parchment. Pipe the dough into log shapes for the éclairs. Place the baking sheets in the oven and bake for 10 minutes. Turn the oven down to 350 without opening the oven door. Bake another 20 minutes, until the éclairs are golden and firm. Cool on a wire rack.
4. Make the filling: Place the ricotta in the blender and blend until smooth. Add the cream cheese, powdered sugar, and vanilla and blend until very well combined. If the mixture seems too thick you can add a little milk to thin it. Add the raspberries and pulse the mixture until the raspberries are chopped up but some chunks remain.
5. Fill éclairs: Put the ricotta mixture in a piping bag or plastic bag with the tip cut off. Slice the éclairs partways in half but don't cut all the way through. Use the bag to fill the éclairs. If desired, sift powdered sugar over the top of the éclairs, keep refrigerated until ready to eat.

Additionally: you could make a raspberry glaze or chocolate icing to glaze the tops of these.
___

Rumor Has It

Strawberry Shortcake, at the market in Muhajereen, Damascus

Like so many things in a totalitarian country, truth often comes by way of rumor. In Syria, information creeps along dusty streets, whispers through neighbors’ walls, and in a country with limited resources or opportunities for fun, joy still comes in the bounty of each season.

When it comes to agricultural produce, word travels from the farm first. A colleague of mine had driven up to the mountain town of Saiyadniah, and says he saw roadside stands with the first fresh almonds of the season. Sometimes, word might come that lack of rain has delayed the artichokes. A friend tells me he saw big piles of blackberries sold by street vendors at Baramke bus station, a few intrepid salesmen eager to capitalize on the short season. We move from one seasonal joy to the next, persimmons, almonds, pistachios, corn, figs, even garlic and fresh leafy thyme get their due.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about those rumors that anticipate the arrival of each crop. Here in America, winter came particularly late this year and lasted longer than anyone wanted. Spring was delayed in arriving, and we were deep in snow when we should have been reveling in early spring produce. Food magazines, operating on predictability, arrived in my mailbox with covers of asparagus and berries, touting the joys of spring as I brushed the sleet off their frigid edges. Grocery stores followed suit, stocking the produce that the food industry dictates will be in demand. Standing in the cold aisle of the produce section in April, I surveyed a landscape of imported asparagus, spring greens, tomatoes. I felt lackluster and uninspired; in the impersonal topography of the modern supermarket, no one whispered to me about when the apricots would be in.



Now it’s June and the magazines are touting grilling and summer corn and tomatoes. But my market is still bustling with the joy of a delayed spring, and this week I emerged with an armful of asparagus, morel mushrooms, baby greens, and local strawberries. The strawberries are all sizes, some fat, some tiny, some very oddly shaped, and all incredibly sweet and juicy enough to run down your chin. Eating them, I thought of a carton of Driscoll berries I saw yesterday at the supermarket, literally the size of my fist and only pale pink, and I felt positively sad.

For dinner, I tossed up our vegetables into a spring sauté, and got some local crab meat to make crab cakes. Then I sliced the strawberries and piled them with whipped cream between sweet little shortcakes, for a quintessential American dessert. I had hoped to pick up some fava beans as well, but rumor has it they won’t be ready for a few more weeks. But I’ve got strawberries, and I’m happy to wait.



Strawberry Shortcakes

for the strawberries:
3 cups strawberries, halved
1/3 cup sugar, or to taste
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp rose water (optional)
1 tsp lemon juice
for the whipped cream:
1 cup heavy cream
1/4 cup powdered sugar
1 tsp vanilla
for the shortcakes:
1 1/3 cups all-purpose flour
3 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/8 teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons chilled butter, cut into small pieces
1/2 cup buttermilk

1. Combine the strawberries, sugar, vanilla, rosewater, and lemon and toss to coat. Cover and refrigerate.
2. Whip cream to soft peaks, add the powdered sugar and vanilla and whip to firm peaks. Refrigerate until ready to use.
3. Preheat oven to 425°. Combine flour, 3 tablespoons sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a bowl; cut in butter with a pastry blender or 2 knives until mixture resembles coarse meal. Add buttermilk, stirring just until moist (dough will be sticky). Give the dough a few more gentle stirs to encourage it to come together.
4. Drop the dough onto a greased baking sheet to form 5-6 cakes. Bake at 425° for 12 minutes. Cool on a wire rack.
5. Split shortcakes in half horizontally using a serrated knife; place each bottom half on a dessert plate. Spoon some of the strawberry mixture over each bottom half, and top with whipped cream. Top with shortcake tops. Serve.

____

The Morel of the Story

Walking into the market this week, there was a woman with a small table of mushrooms, some boxes of cremini and button varieties, as well as some amazingly sculptural pieces that looked as if they'd been carved right off a tree trunk, big arms of oyster mushrooms ready to reach out and grab you. Gesturing to one of only two boxes, I asked, "are those morels," pronouncing the word somewhat like "moral." The tie-dye clad lady let out a big chortle, "well I don't know if we have morals, but we do have mor-ELS," she laughed, the emphasis resoundingly on the second symbol. Right, I said sheepishly, realizing my mistake.

It was an immediate flashback to the time I was a quiet ten-year-old who spent most of my time with my nose buried in a book. I had read almost every Nancy Drew mystery, nearly a hundred of those yellow-spined volumes, when a family friend stopped by the house one day. "How's the titian haired sleuth," he asked, jokingly referring to the description that opens every mystery. "You mean 'sleth,' " I replied in complete seriousness. The whole time I'd been reading the books to myself, I'd been pronouncing the word 'sleuth' as 'sleth' in my head, never having the opportunity to be contradicted. It took a trip to the dictionary to convince me I was wrong, and the incident quickly became a family joke.

Now years later, it had happened again, though in my defence, the difference between morel and moral is quite subtle. Of course I'd read about and even eaten the mushrooms before, but I hadn't spent much time talking about them. It was also my first time cooking fresh morels, and combined with some spring produce, they were divine. I'd never understood what the fuss about morels was, but now I do. They were full or earthy flavor and aroma. And if you look for them in your area, don't forget to ask for mor-ELs.

Sauté of Asparagus, Morels, and Favas
If fresh morels are unavailable, you can substitute rehydrated dried morels.

2 oz fresh morel mushrooms
2 cups shelled fava beans (or substitute baby lima beans or edamame)
1 1/2 lb thin asparagus, cut into 2 inch pieces
4 tbl butter
optional: fresh mint for serving

1. Submerge the mushrooms in warm water and agitate them to remove any grit. Drain thoroughly and pat dry. Halve or quarter any large mushrooms.
2. Prepare a pan of boiling salted water. Cook the favas in the water for 3 minutes, then remove with a slotted spoon and immediately rinse with cold water (leave the pan of water boiling). Use your fingers to remove the tough outer shells from the favas. (If using lima beans or edamame, you'll also want to blanch them in boiling water until just tender) Repeat the blanching with the asparagus pieces, cooking for 3 minutes and rinsing under cold water.
3. Heat 2 tablespoons of the butter in a 12-inch skillet over moderately high heat until foam subsides, then sauté morels, stirring, until tender and they've released some of their juices, about 4-6 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Stir in the asparagus and favas, stirring over medium heat for a couple minutes. Add the remaining two tablespoons butter to glaze the vegetables and season with salt. Serve immediately.
___

Crunchy Asian-Style Salad

A simple vegetable peeler can be great multi-use tool in the kitchen, you can shave ribbons of carrots or cucumbers, make all sorts of pretty garnishes, and even make the thinest slices of potato for a gratin, or shave bits of butter for use in pastry-making. Those carrot ribbons were the inspiration for this crunchy salad, along with cabbage and bean sprouts. I like that this salad stands up well to a little stress, in the lunchbox it retains it’s crunch and it doesn’t wilt in the heat of a summer barbeque, it’s also a great as a sort of slaw, wrapped in a tortilla, or as a salad accompaniment to salmon or chicken.

Crunchy Asian-Style Salad
If you can’t find fresh mung bean sprouts, they’re usually available canned in the Asian foods section of the grocery.

2-3 carrots
1/2 head red cabbage
1/2 cup mung bean sprouts
1 tbl soy sauce
2 tbl rice wine vinegar or other mild vinegar
3 tbl peanut oil
1 tsp ground ginger
1 tbl black sesame seeds
optional additions: chopped scallions, daikon radish, pickled ginger or toasted peanuts

1. Whisk together the soy sauce, oil, vinegar, and ginger in the bottom of your serving bowl.
2. Peel the carrots, then continue with the vegetable peeler to shave ribbons of the carrots. Finely shred the cabbage, you should have about 3 cups of cabbage.
3. Combine the carrots, cabbage, and sprouts and toss with the dressing. Sprinkle sesame seeds over top and serve.
____