butternut squash soup & culinary freedom due to banana stuff

Remember the recent post when I went on and on about how I needed a picture to be inspired to cook something? Well, a friend of mine told me about this butternut squash soup by Ina Garten with toppings that included but were not limited to: diced bananas, coconut flakes, and scallions. For some reason, without a beautiful photograph of the finished soup to taunt me, I kept thinking about those diced bananas. Diced what, Ina? On butternut squash soup? How bad can that be?

I took a look at the recipe and realized it was a curry-inspired version of the soup, which lent a better understanding to the condiment selection, but also increased my desire to make it. But alas, that left me with no "their version" photo and I couldn't just make the soup like a normal non-attempt meal, could I? That wouldn't be fair to the world. So, I thought about it and came to the decision that Ina Garten with her Martha-Stewarty-but-in-a-much-more-approachable-way lifestyle and beautiful Hampton's kitchen was inspiration enough.

Ina's version(?):

our version:

As it turns out, throwing out the one mainstay element of this blog proved extremely freeing for me. All it took was Matt and I accidentally eating both of the bananas we'd bought for the recipe during breakfast for me to forgo the entire curried nature of the recipe. (We ate at separate times. Who ate the second banana? We don't know. Is this like reverse Gift of the Magi?) And what resulted was a butternut squash soup inspired by Ina's recipe, but with a heavy dose of Bon Appetempt improvisation (read: half and half).

Ina's soup was essentially three ingredients: b-nut squash, yellow onion, and apple. And they were all roasted together, the smell of which was supremely autumnal and lovely.

After the roasting, we blended with chicken stock, watched the U.S.A Men's curling team blow it, and then poured the mixture into a thick-bottomed stock pot.

At this point, Ina would have you heat it up, serve into bowls and add the weird stuff on top, but might I recommend adding some half and half first? I think it really mellowed the squash and apple flavors while making it a little richer. Also, don't go light on the salt here. To serve, we skipped the banana and coconut, but went for the scallions and toasted cashews.

Thanks, Ms. Garten!

RECIPE:

Ingredients 
3 to 4 pounds butternut squash, peeled and seeded
2 yellow onions
2 McIntosh apples, peeled and cored
3 tablespoons good olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 to 4 cups chicken stock, preferably homemade
1/2 teaspoon good curry powder

Condiments for serving:
Scallions, white and green parts, trimmed and sliced diagonally
Flaked sweetened coconut, lightly toasted
Roasted salted cashews, toasted and chopped
Diced banana

Directions
Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F.

Cut the butternut squash, onions, and apples into 1-inch cubes. Place them on a sheet pan and toss them with the olive oil, 1 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. Divide the squash mixture between 2 sheet pans and spread in a single layer. Roast for 35 to 45 minutes, tossing occasionally, until very tender.

Meanwhile, heat the chicken stock to a simmer. When the vegetables are done, put them through a food mill fitted with the medium blade. (Alternatively, you can place the roasted vegetables in batches in a food processor fitted with the steel blade. Add some of the chicken stock and coarsely puree.) When all of the vegetables are processed, place them in a large pot and add enough chicken stock to make a thick soup. Add the curry powder (OR some half and half?), 1 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. Taste for seasonings to be sure there's enough salt and pepper to bring out the curry flavor. Reheat and serve hot with condiments either on the side or on top of each serving.

baked eggs with chives and cream & candied bacon & a call from ADT home security

Sometimes this blog encourages me to do things I normally wouldn't do. Take making baked eggs and candied bacon for Matt for breakfast on Valentine's day--not that I wouldn't do this, just that I like to be slightly more spontaneous when it comes to my acts of kindness. But then Fine Cooking had this sweet and seemingly simple Valentinesy breakfast menu and I totally fell for it.

Fine Cooking's version:

 

Our version:

The meal should have been easy enough. All we had to do was bake some bacon with maple syrup and brown sugar and some eggs with chives and cream.

(Doesn't this slab of bacon kind of remind you of Tennessee?)

 

The problem lay in the timing and oven space. The recipe calls for the eggs and bacon to both bake at 425, only the bacon was ready before the eggs and since it had gone in the oven first, was situated in the back so that when we pulled it out, we tipped the pan a little too much and some bacon grease spilled onto the hot oven floor. 

Within ten seconds, smoke was pouring out of the oven and every smoke detector in the house was going off. (Here, it should be noted that Matt and I are housesitting.) We turned the detectors off manually, which was easy enough to handle--even though they kept going off every thirty seconds, but when the ADT alarm went off, the situation escalated quickly--a horrible, constant, piercing noise now layered on top of the smoke detectors mechanical beeping. When the phone rang, we looked at each other. "Fire department." The eggs only needed a couple of more minutes, so Matt left the alarms and picked up the phone:

ADT: I see there are fires in rooms one, three, and five.

Matt: No, we're just cooking. 

ADT: OK, then. Happy Valentine's Day!

Matt: Thanks.

Dear Sean and Sara, your house is on fire fine.

As for the food, the eggs were overcooked due to the extended distraction, re: the non-fire, but delicious. And the bacon is something I would definitely try again. If it weren't for the fire and smoke mayhem, it really would have been easy. 

In short: Happy Valentine's Day!

(Above picture via Heath Ceramics & Gilly Flowers.)

squid ink risotto, the cheese course, and a minor announcement

Dear Readers,
I have a minor announcement to make. Ready? Get set... My culinary point of view has changed.

Did that come out of nowhere? Maybe not. Maybe you've seen it coming. If you think about it, it probably should have changed by now. Now that I've braised previously obscure (to me) meat cuts, layered a dacquoise, and gilded eclairs.

When I first started this blog, I envisioned cake wreck after cake wreck. I assumed that the dramatic collapse of my Devil's Food Layer Cake with Peppermint Frosting—my eventual first post—was going to be the norm and pictured Bon Appétempt as the food equivalent of those occasions on Project Runway when real women instead of models pop out into the work room and all of the designers’ faces fall in sadness. My version of the recipe would be that real woman, the size 8+ woman that is so much harder to fit than those headless mannequin busts. And so, my version would call bullshit on those gourmet magazines with their team of trained chefs, food stylists and professional photographers. My version would be destined for failure and not only would that be OK, it would sometimes be hilarious.

But now, a year of attempts later, I must say that I no longer want the same thing...necessarily. (I don't want things not to be hilarious.) Maybe I should put it another way: I no longer necessarily want to call bullshit on the beautiful photography found in food magazines and cookbooks. Because the truth is I've come to love these images and the recipes attached to them. These publications haven't just gotten me to the grocery store and into my kitchen; they've inspired me to appreciate the tasks.

In the colossal, formerly adversarial, French Laundry cookbook, Thomas Keller sums up quite wonderfully what I believe I've learned:

"Cooking is not about convenience and it's not about shortcuts... Take your time. Take a long time. Move slowly and deliberately and with great attention.

These recipes then, although exact documents of the way food is prepared at the French Laundry, are only guidelines. You're not going to be able to duplicate the dish that I made. You may create something that in composition resembles what I made, but more important—and this is my greatest hope—you're going to create something that you have deep respect and feelings and passions for. And you know what? It's going to be more satisfying than anything I could ever make for you."

Aghhhh. What started as poking fun, as just funnin' in the kitchen, has turned somewhat life-changing and serious. I can't believe it. I've got to go chill out with an SNL digital short.

With all that finally said, the timing is perfect to share with you a seriously inspired meal I made with my dear dear friend, Mary Anne—of shorty cake and Buche de Noel fame—while visiting her in Seattle.

John Pawson and Annie Bell's cookbook, Living and Eating, has kind of blown my mind. The architect and food writer, respectively, are all about paring dishes down to the essentials, and while most of the recipes aren't exactly simple to me, the book does make a compelling case for letting go of some of the showiness that can quietly creep into recipes and entertaining. This book reminds us that a very satisfying three-course meal can consist of radishes and butter, a roasted chicken, and stewed fruit. Not to mention the photography includes some of my favorite food images to date. From my first read, I had major designs on their Squid Ink Risotto with Scallops (pictured on left), and Perail and Endive (on the right) found in the cheese course section.

After I explained all of this to Mary Anne and she corrected my pronunciation of perail (it's per-ay), we planned our menu:

Arugula with Lemon Dressing and Parmesan
Bread and Baked Garlic
Squid Ink Risotto with Scallops
Perail and Endive
Chocolate Tart

Though where we ended up was a little different—mainly due to the fact that I forgot to bring the squid ink recipe with me on the trip. So, after some Googling, we settled on Spicy Squid Ink Risotto a recipe similarly tempting by Kerry Saretsky for Serious Eats.

If the words squid ink turn you off, just call it Tinta Calamar. Fair? If an image of a squid swimming along, extruding its ink still comes to mind and doesn’t entice, try and think of this: classic parmesan risotto and the ocean. That's really what it tasted and smelled of, and thus, it was delicious. The tiny hint of heat from the chili flakes was a perfect addition too.

Then, despite a trip to a specialty cheese shop and a few calls to various Whole Foods, we couldn't find anyone who carried the super creamy and runny perail. We substituted Cremeux de Bourgogne, which is like brie but maybe a little richer and a bit tangier, and while neither of us had ever tried perail, we don't think too much was missed. Of course, we may have been way too excited that we were eating a cheese course to care.

We had to be just a tad flexible with the chocolate tart as well since digestives were also nonexistent at the store. We substituted organic graham crackers without a problem. And I wholeheartedly recommend the recipe. It wasn't very difficult or taxing, especially since the crust is the only thing baked. The filling just needs to set. It's one of those perfect desserts that all you need do is pull it out of the refrigerator at the end of the meal (post-cheese course, obviously).

We took our time collecting each ingredient—changing buses and schlepping grocery bags from market to market. We took a long time. We washed the arugula, juiced and zested lemons, baked garlic, chopped onions and squid, separated egg white from yolk. We stirred the risotto until each grain of rice had surrendered to the stock, had plumped and softened. We moved slowly and deliberately and with great attention, taking in the savory aroma that grew and evolved as we worked, until all that was left to do was sit down with the full plate in front of us and eat.