Stuffed Acorn Squash with Cranberries and Pecans

A few weeks ago we put on a "practice Thanksgiving." After all, who says roast turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes, and gravy should be made once a year? I think not. And what if you want to test out a new dish without the pressure of the big day, or celebrate with someone who won't be around for the actual holiday.

So practice Thanksgiving it was, only on a Thursday where I actually had to work all day and come home and host 8 for dinner. Daunting to some, but somewhat thrilling to my inner-entertainer. I put pumpkins and squash all around the house and decorated the table with kale and sorghum and sparkleberry.

A few weeks later, and I decided those acorn squash should go from decoration to dinner. I hollowed them out and roasted them filled with what I had on hand- bulgur, cranberries, pecans, and cinnamon. A friend commented that my recipe sounded Lebanese, after all they were vegetables stuffed with bulgur. And though I pointed out that cranberries and pecans are about as American as you get, perhaps she's right in that I've cooked so much Middle Eastern food now, it's sort of stuck in my bloodstream, no matter what ingredients you use.

These are lovely single-serving one meal deals, and as you eat them you scoop the squash flesh into the bulgur mixture, mixing it all together. If you don't have bulgur, I imagine cooked wild rice would be excellent as well.

Stuffed Acorn Squash with Cranberries and Pecans
Obviously you can increase this number to however many you'd like to serve. Be sure to use small acorn squash so that it's a true one serving size.

2 small acorn squash, tops removed and centers hollowed out
best quality olive oil
2/3 cup bulgur
1 1/2 cup boiling water
1/4 cup dried cranberries
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 cup chopped pecans, toasted
1 tablespoon chopped parsley
salt to taste

1. Preheat oven to 425 F. Place bulgur and cranberries in a bowl and pour boiling water over top. Let sit 15 minutes, or until fluffed.
2. Meanwhile, toast the pecans.
3. Rub the insides of the squash with olive oil and rub in some salt.
4. Combine the bulgur, cinnamon, pecans, parsley, 1 tablespoon of olive oil, and season with salt to taste.
5. Stuff the squash and place the lids back on top. Place on a baking sheet and bake for about 50 minutes, or until the squash or completely soft when tested with a knife and they appear slightly collapsed. Let cool slightly before serving.

Swedish Limpa Bread

I remember picking up the first care package in the dingy basement of my college dorm. Sure, I'd been to summer camp before, but now I was on my own, taking the subway with my roommates, dashing across the traffic of Seventh Avenue, pretending like was a real New Yorker, and hoping I would really be one someday soon. And a few weeks went by, and there was that box, with my mom's handwriting on the top, and I opened it and all these colorful things just spilled out. Polka dotted tissue paper and cards and a little stuffed animal and brochures from the last art exhibit my mom went to and extra bobby pins. And right in the middle was a big round loaf of bread, all swaddled in plastic wrap and pink plastic cellophane like you wrap cookies in at Christmas.

In the seventies, when it was trendy to make everything from scratch, my mom knitted blankets and pressed homemade paper and cooked yogurt in little cups and she baked bread. She had the Sunset Book of Breads, and over the course of a year she made every single recipe. Even the danishes, she'd always tell me. But her favorite was the Swedish Limpa bread, the thick crumbed bread flavored with dark rye, molasses, cumin seeds, and orange peel. She loved it because it made great toast, crusty and warm and swathed in butter.

I had had mom's Limpa bread before, but sitting on the floor of my dorm room holding that loaf up to my nose it was as if I was smelling for the first time. And tasting each bit of rye and caraway and orange with each bite. And like mom, it's still one of my favorite breads, perfect for those first cool days of autumn, when the leaves are falling and turning on the oven is just what you want to do.


Swedish Limpa Bread

1 cup boiling water
1/2 cup cracked wheat (aka bulgur)
1 teaspoon crushed fennel or anise seed
1 teaspoon crushed cumin seed
1/4 teaspoon crushed caraway seed
1 1/2 teaspoons grated orange zest
2 teaspoons salt
1/3 cup molasses
3 tablespoons butter
1 package (2 1/4 teaspoons) dry active yeast
1/4 warm water
1 cup milk
2 cups unsifted dark rye flour
about 4 1/2 cups all-purpose flour (sift before measuring)

1. Place cracked wheat, fennel, cumin, caraway, orange zest, salt, molasses and butter in a very large bowl and pour boiling water over top. Let sit about 5 minutes, until cooled to lukewarm.
2. Meanwhile, dissolve the yeast in the warm water and let sit until foamy.
3. Add the yeast mixture to the cracked wheat mixture and add the dark rye and the milk. Add enough flour to make a moderately stiff dough. Turn the douh out onto a floured surface and knead for 10 minutes. Yes, I sad 10 minutes.
4. Place in a large greased bowl, turning to coat. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and place in a warm place to rise for 2 hours, until nearly doubled in bulk.
5. Punch down the dough and form 1 large or 2 medium size loaves. Place on a greased baking sheet and allow to rise until almost doubled, about 1 hour.
6. Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 350. Bake for 1 hour and 15 minutes for the large 12 " loaf, or 35 minutes for the smaller 9" loaves.

Pumpkin Pie

I fully realize that talking about a Thanksgiving recipe the weekend after the grand feast is a bit like predicting Superbowl scores the week after the big game. By now, you've all eaten your turkey and cranberry sandwiches, made turkey soup, and had that leftover slice of pie for breakfast. But if you'll allow me some culinary Monday morning quaterbacking, I think we'll all be Thankful, both this year and next.

You see, a few years ago I found the pecan pie of my dreams, the pecan pie that is requisite at every Thanksgiving henceforth. But that requisite pumpkin pie, well, I just never liked it. The last two years I made a pumpkin cheesecake, but this year I thought I'd give the pumpkin pie a try again. Adapted from Cook's Illustrated recipe, the filling is smooth to the point of creamy, light and just subtly spiced. The only problem was, the filling made enough for two pies. Not one to let things go to waste, I quickly made another crust, this one made of crushed gingersnaps, and baked a second pie.

It was the buttery crumbly gingersnap crust paired with the creamy not-too-sweet pumpkin that won me over. And apparently several other people at dinner, because there was only one sliver left. I may still go for the pecan pie first, but I'll no longer look at pumpkin pie with such skepticism. In fact I'll be saving room, if not for a sliver after dinner, than a good slice, cold from the fridge, the next day for breakfast.

Pumpkin Pie
Make sure to cook the mixture down until it's nice thick, otherwise your pie will risk being soft set. The original recipe had you press the filling through sieve for ultimate smoothness, but I found a blender did the trick just fine.

1 gingersnap crust or crust of choice, prepared and par-baked (see below)

1 cup of half and half
2 large eggs
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
3/4 cup pumpkin puree (canned or better yet homemade)
1 cup drained candied yams from 15-ounce can (pack the yams into the measuring cup)
6 tablespoons sugar
3 tablespoons maple syrup
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon table salt

1. Preheat oven to 400 F. Whisk cream, milk, eggs, and vanilla together in medium bowl. Combine pumpkin puree, yams, sugar, maple syrup, ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg and salt in large heavy-bottomed saucepan; bring to sputtering simmer over medium heat, 5 to 7 minutes. Continue to simmer pumpkin mixture, stirring constantly and mashing yams against sides of pot, until thick and shiny, 10 to 15 minutes.

2. Remove pan from heat. Whisk in cream mixture until fully incorporated. Pour the mixture into blender in batches and blend until smooth. Re-whisk mixture and transfer to warm pre-baked pie shell. Return pie plate with baking sheet to oven and bake pie for 10 minutes. Reduce heat to 300 degrees. Continue baking until edges are set 30 to 35 minutes longer. Transfer pie to wire rack and cool to room temperature, 2 to 3 hours. (The pie finishes cooking with resident heat; to ensure the filling sets, cool it at room temperature and not in the refrigerator.)

For the crust: Process in a food processor 1 box (16 oz) gingersnap cookies until they are fine crumbs. Slowly drizzle in 1 stick of melted butter, pulsing to combine. Press the mixture into a pie pan. Par-bake at 400 degrees for 5-7 minutes. Set aside.

Pan-Roasted Brussels Sprouts

I have a problem. I really like brussels sprouts. I happily eat them, and them alone, for dinner. I like them a multitude of ways, finely shredded and sauteed, braised with bacon, roasted in the oven, even just plain boiled (!). In the winter I eat them so often it's become a household joke. I get excited when I see them in the markets for the first time in the fall, and sad when they disappear in the spring (no matter how much I love brussels sprouts, I'm an avowed seasonal eater).

Poor sprouts, they're so maligned. My friend hates them because her mother always referred to them as "little brains." Bitter when not properly handled and terribly mushy when overcooked, it's easy to go wrong with brussels sprouts. But when right, they are oh-so-good. The best brussels sprouts I've ever had are the teeny-tiny baby ones they sell at Citarella in New York, each one the size of a coin, you can roast them whole and they are almost sweetly vegetal.

That taught me a good lesson about brussels sprouts, pick out the small ones and halve or quarter the larger ones so that they cook quickly without being bitter or over-cooked. My favorite way to cook brussels is to pan roast them: start on the stove-top and then finish them in the oven. These will be on our Thanksgiving table and if they aren't on yours, you've got a long season left to find a time for them.

Pan-Roasted Brussel Sprouts
By all means, saute a little bacon along with the shallot if you want to gild the lily. The brussels sprouts should be just tender in their centers when done (check with a knife tip), and I actually like it when some of the outer edges are crispy deep-brown-black crunchy savory perfection (the above picture, while they were delicious, weren't quite brown enough for my taste).

1 shallot, chopped
2 tablespoons vinegar or lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon (a sprinkling) of sugar
a medium bag of brussels sprouts, larger ones halved or quartered
salt and pepper to taste

1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. In a large oven-proof skillet, heat a splash of olive oil. Add the shallot and cook until soft and translucent. Add the brussels sprouts and saute until the begin to brown on the edges - golden brown is good, but not completely done. Deglaze the pan with the vinegar, scraping up any brown bits, and sprinkle the sugar over, stirring so it melts. Season with salt
2. Transfer the pan to the oven to finish cooking. Check after 5-7 minutes, shaking the pan. Continue roasting, stirring every five minutes, until the brussels sprouts are cooked through and the edges are well browned (some of the stray leaves may blacken, that's totally fine). Check for seasoning, serve.

Ker-plunk.

The ancient Romans believed walnuts were food for the gods, while mortals had to subsist on lesser nuts like beechnuts and chestnuts. I received a more literal reminder that fall is walnut season, in the form of a very hard walnut shell falling, ker-plunk, on my head. Rubbing my temple, another fell, plop, on the sidewalk next to me, courtesy of a squirrel perched above me, feasting on those heavenly nuts, straight from the boughs of a walnut tree.

Often considered one of the world's healthiest foods, the fresh walnuts we picked up at a local farm recently were full of a rich flavor I'd never experienced before. I shelled a bunch and tucked them into the freezer for storage, and then I found a recipe for pasta with walnut sauce that sounded delicious. It was one of those happy occasions when I had all the ingredients on hand already, and I decided to add cubes of roasted butternut squash since I wanted a nice fall vegetable to round out the dish.



Dipping my finger in the sauce to taste, I knew we had a winner on hand. Rich with nuts, cream, and spice, with a slight sweetness from the wine, it was luxuriously good. While I love the slight chewiness of the mafalda pasta we had in the cabinet, I think this would really be best with fresh pasta, either handmade or from your grocery or local pasta maker. And while it all sounds a bit fancy, with nuts and cream and such, it's really quite simple: the sauce comes together in seconds in the processor, and then all you have to do is roast the squash and cook the pasta, easy enough for a weeknight. For an extra touch, you can garnish with a sage leaf fried in a little butter.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that the walnut sauce has a myriad of other uses: you can spread it on toasted bread, toss it with roasted vegetables, or even turn it into an amuse-like soup, garnished with pomegranate seeds.


Pasta with Butternut Squash and Walnut Sauce
A pasta dish just right for fall. The walnut sauce is wonderful and you'll quickly find a lot of other uses for it besides pasta. If you have truffe oil or walnut oil, they make a wonderful addition to the walnut sauce, just use a few drops along with the olive oil.

1 lb fresh pasta, like tagliatelle or fettucine
1 medium butternut squash, peeled, seeded, and diced
1 tbl chopped fresh sage
for walnut sauce:
8 oz (about 1 cup) shelled walnuts
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg
salt and pepper
1/4 cup olive oil
1/4 cup light cream
1/4 cup late harvest white wine (like Muscato or Riesling), optional

1. Preheat the oven to 400F. Drizzle a little olive oil on a baking sheet, scatter the chopped squash, sage, and some salt and roll them around to coat. Roast the squash until browned and tender, shaking the pan a couple times during the process, about 45 minutes.
2. Make the sauce: Lightly toast the walnuts. Place in a food processor with the cinnamon, nutmeg, salt and pepper and pulse until ground. Drizzle in the olive oil, cream and wine with processor running, only until the paste is emulsified. (If you don't have wine on hand you can use broth or water.) You'll have about 2 cups sauce.
3. Cook pasta according to package directions. When pasta is done, drain and toss with roast squash and 1 1/2 cups of the walnut sauce. Serve immediately.

Walnut Soup: Thin the walnut sauce with a bit of chicken broth, be careful not to thin the soup too much of it may be watery (about 3/4 cup broth for 2 cups sauce). Serve in small demi-tasse cups garnished with pomegranate seeds as an amuse.

Roast Beets with Walnut Sauce: Roast beets until tender, then peel and dice. Toss with walnut sauce.