This is the now annual ‘I watched Eurovision so you don’t have to’ post. Normally, I would ask why you aren’t watching Eurovision, because normally it’s awesome. But this year was possibly the most boring edition of Eurovision I think I’ve ever sat (skimmed) through – it’s not a good sign when the host has the most interesting costume of the evening. If you’re a glutton for punishment you can watch the whole show streaming online. Mostly, however, I’d recommend just watching the performances from Romania, Finland, and Ireland. Denmark won (why?), but Romania was robbed.

That said, brace yourselves, here we go.

(1) France
The best that can be said is that it’s kickier than solo female artists from developed nation usually are, which is not to say it’s good, just marginally less dreary than it might be. I think she’s going for a Tina Turner kind of vibe, except that Tina Turner is a lot cooler (and has better legs).

(2) Lithuania
This is actually too boring for a pithy comment, and the lyric about the shoes he’s wearing today (one called love) is just odd.

(3) Moldova
The light show on her dress is kind of fun? I’m not entirely sure what to make of the white party back up dancers

(4) Finland
The back up singers in the insane red vinyl aprons totally make this performance – I think they’re supposed to be the cater waiters at the wedding? That said, one of the better (read, entertaining) performances of the evening). Huh, if you stick around to the end of the performance, it turns out it’s a lesbian wedding, complete with a kiss – apparently it’s a protest against Finland’s decision last year not to vote on gay marriage (and got the Eurovision broadcast axed in Turkey).

(5) Spain
Apparently Spain’s financial crisis has not impacted the overly maudlin nature of their entry in any kind of positive (read, insane) way.

(6) Belgium
He’s like the emo-est thing to ever emo . . . or possibly a serial killer, those dead eyes are going to give me nightmares. Has anyone checked? Did the back up dancers all make it home?

(7) Estonia
So apparently Estonia’s economy is developing nicely? That’s what the sheer tedium of their entry suggests, at any rate.

(8) Belarus
Now this is more like it; this is why I watch Eurovision – a singer who emerges from a giant disco ball, a dress made of tin foil, and back up dancers who apparently time warped directly from a Wham video.

(9) Malta
Malta made the finals?  Malta never makes the finals. And now we know why, it’s like 500 Days of Summer entered Eurovision, too hipster for words (seriously, there’s a ukulele player on stage), who even knew Malta had hipsters.

(10) Russia
Also too boring for words, and apparently wearing the bridesmaid’s dress from her sister’s wedding.

(11) Germany
Sort of generic pop circa 1992.

(12) Armenia
I say this every year, but it bears repeating; the whole lyrics in English thing does nobody any favors, at least before you could only assume the lyrics were terrible, now you have proof. Apparently the entire contest this year is stuck in the mid ’90s complete with ripped jeans, looped scarf, and wind machine.

(13) Netherlands
This is the usual female solo performer for Eurovision. Alone on a stage, singing desperately earnestly about . . . birds apparently? Not flying?

(14) Romania
Oh hell yes. Vampires + barely barely clothed dancing thralls + counter tenor. This is the epitome of Eurovision. How did this not win?

(15) United Kingdom
This suffers even more in comparison to Romania’s glorious insanity.

(16) Sweden
What is with all the drapey white costumes this year?  Was fabric dye being rationed?

(17) Hungary
It’s like Europe discovered Death Cab for Cutie this year . . . welcome to the early 2000s.

(18) Denmark
Manic pixie dream girl with back up fifers. Wait, this won?  Are you kidding me?

(19) Iceland
That is a lot of artfully unwashed hair

(20) Azerbaijan
Where are my dancing gumbies?  Where are my sparkles?  This matt earth tone palate is not why I watch Eurovision.

(21) Greece
Bonus points for men in kilts, and further bonus points for not looking like every other performance this evening . . . I mean, it’s not good, but at least I’m not bored.

(22) Ukraine
Starts off with Thor carrying the singer on stage, but then sadly he walks off stage. Needs more Thor.

(23) Italy
[snooze] At least he’s wearing a good suit; trust the Italians to be well dressed even when they’re sending me to sleep.

(24) Norway
Mostly I just want to give her a more flattering dress

(25) Georgia
Wait, is this still on?  I think I fell asleep.

(26) Ireland
Yes! Half naked tattooed men in tight (tight!) leather pants beating celtic drums. I have no idea how they’re related to the singer, but whatever it’s Eurovision it’s not supposed to make sense.

(baked) Chicken Parmesan
Braised Garlic Bread
Asparagus
Salad

(baked) Chicken Parmesan
I totally win at Dinner this week, because this was 90% made two weeks ago in preparation for the fact that I was going to be away this weekend and would therefore have to go grocery shopping on Monday night after work, which is when I usually do Dinner prep. So, two weeks ago I made the tomato sauce, toasted the bread crumbs, mixed the flour, butterflied the chicken breasts, and then threw all of it into the freezer. On Sunday night I pulled the chicken and tomato sauce out of the freezer. On Monday night I separated and whisked the egg whites (and made the garlic butter for the bread). On Tuesday night I pulled the seasoned flour and bread crumbs from the freezer, breaded and baked the chicken, reheated the tomato sauce, and smeared egregious quantities of garlic on bread. I am so impressed with myself, you have no idea.

Recipe previously given: The Merits of Gloating

Braised Garlic Bread

Recipe previously given: Dear Food & Wine

Asparagus
Normally I’d roast or grill the asparagus, but I already had two sheet pans in the oven, and too many people at Dinner to accommodate all the asparagus I’d need to do it on my grill pan. So, boiled for a scant 2 minutes and then dressed with lemony olive oil, salt & pepper. Pretty much doesn’t matter what you do to asparagus I’m going to think it’s awesome.

A couple of weeks ago I said I was feeling excessively negative and wanted to get happy, but that I’d do a grousing post some time soon.  This is that time.

Firstly, the term ‘flavor forward’ needs to be taken out to the woodshed and put out of its misery.  What does that even mean?

More seriously, can we talk about the most recent spate of idiotic diets that are being touted.

For starters there’s the Paleo Diet (aka the Dukan diet) which, as far as I can tell, takes a premise that our Paleolithic ancestors were somehow very healthy and that since our digestive systems were formed during this period we should return to their hunter-gatherer diet.  Essentially this boils down to a lot of lean proteins – meats specifically – and (presumably seasonal, although I haven’t actually seen that as a requirement) fruits and vegetables barely cooked – and eliminating processed sugars and grains from your diet.

There are so many things about this that are idiotic that I don’t even know where to begin.  A) our Paleolithic ancestors all tended to die before age 40, and since that’s a mile marker that’s creeping up on me alarmingly fast it’s not a lifestyle recommendation that’s doing much for me.  B) It’s not as if the people who are taking up the Paleo Diet are also trying to live the Paleolithic lifestyle in other ways (although this is probably for the best), but why would you try on a diet for a lifestyle you don’t live?  C) The development of cooking is one of those things that is generally considered a mile marker in human history, and a stepping stone towards higher evolution.

Then there’s a new diet from England called variously the 5-2 Diet or the Fasting Diet.  Basic idiotic premise?  You eat whatever you want for 5 days, and then for the other two days of the week you fast.  How is that even remotely healthy?  This reads like a sanctioned binge and purge approach to eating dressed up in the Emperor’s New Clothing.  Where’s the small village urchin to call out the Emperor’s nudity?

The Eat Right 4 Your Type diet is one I hadn’t heard of until a friend brought it to my attention.  Apparently the theory is that you need to tailor your diet based on your blood type?  This sounds excessively medieval to me.  Didn’t doctoring based on the concept of the four humors go out of style sometime in the 19th century?  Also, the #4 in the middle of the name irks me on a grammatical level.

Or, there’s the ever popular theory that weight gain is caused not by over eating, or eating nutritionally empty foods, but by allergies.  This has the benefit of externalizing the causal factor of your weight/weight gain from you, and passing it off to an ‘illness’ beyond your control.  Personally I would have thought that the hassle of removing gluten or soy, or dairy, or eggs, or whatever it is you think you’re allergic to from your diet, is much more difficult than just eating more balanced meals, but then I am deeply skeptical of self-diagnosed allergies.

This is not to discredit the difficulties that people who do have actual (diagnosed!) allergies have.  And, on the upside, the growing market for gluten/soy/dairy/egg-free products has improved the quality and availability of those products by leaps and bounds, and that in turn has improved the quality of life for people who do have to tailor their diets to avoid certain ingredients.

We, however, are not dieting.  Particularly not on a Birthday request Dinner night – although, as Birthday Dinners go this is pretty abstemious.

Turkey Meatball Banh-Mi
w/ pickled vegetables
Mango Slaw
Kale Salad with Spicy Peanut Dressing

Sticky Orange Cake with Marmalade Glaze

Turkey Meatball Banh-Mi with Pickled Vegetables

Recipe previously given:  The Perfect Food?

Mango Slaw
You know what I’m looking forward to next week?  Not having to julienne any vegetables.  Next week’s Dinner is, in fact, 85% made already because I will be away this weekend and planned ahead to an alarming degree.  Next week’s Dinner was made (well, portions of it) and frozen two weeks ago, and just awaits defrosting and assembling next week.

That said, recipe for Mango Slaw previously given:  The Perfect Food?

Kale Salad with Spicy Peanut Dressing
Even spicier when you glace at the recipe too quickly and transpose the amounts for red pepper flakes and salt.

Recipe previously given:  Oscars 2012

Sticky Orange Cake with Marmalade Glaze
Normally my (internal) response to someone telling me their vegan is ‘oh dear god, why?’  However, that said, if you’re in search of a vegan dessert this is vegan and still tasty.  It can be done (although, oh dear god, why?).

There’s a group of cakes variously known as Wonder Cakes, Wacky Cakes, or Crazy Cakes.  They’re wonderful, wacky, or crazy because they call for no eggs or butter and use baking powder and vinegar to achieve leavening.

I’ve been making a chocolate version of this cake for . . . .well, actually, for decades at this point, but it had never occurred to me you could make other flavors.  It was a revelation.  This is a sticky orange version, but I would have thought you could make it in a lot of different variations.  You could use mango juice and ginger preserves for the glaze for a tropical twist.  Or, ooh, you could use coconut water, and make a lime glaze with rum and it would probably taste like the cake version of a pina colada . . . serve it with some toasted coconut and a wedge of pineapple (& maraschino cherry) speared with a paper umbrella.

This makes a double layer cake, but you could also easily halve it and serve it as a simple afternoon tea kind of cake.

Cake
3 cups flour
1 ½ cups white sugar
½ cup dark brown sugar
2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
¾ tsp cinnamon
(very scant) ¼ tsp cloves
Zest of an orange
2 cups fresh orange juice
2/3 cup vegetable oil
2 Tbsp apple cider vinegar
1 tsp vanilla

Glaze
¼ cup marmalade
2 Tbsp whisky/bourbon/vodka/water (although really, why?)

Preheat your oven to 350.  Butter (or use vegetable oil if you’re going vegan) two 9” cake pans, line them with parchment rounds and butter the rounds.

Sift together all the dry ingredients (for this cake sugar counts as a dry ingredient).

Whisk together the wet ingredients, plus the orange zest.

Pour the wet ingredients into the dry and whisk to mix thoroughly.  Divide evenly between the two cake pans.

Bake for 30-35 minutes.

Allow the cakes to cool in the pans for 20 minutes.

Whisk together the marmalade and liquid of choice (I used bourbon because we always have bourbon in the house and we don’t have vodka, plus I think the bourbon add a nice caramel note to the glaze) and bring to a simmer in a small saucepan. Allow to simmer just until runny.

When the cakes have cooled for 20 minutes, turn out one of them, remove the parchment paper and pierce all over with a toothpick.  Drizzle half the glaze over the cake, spreading it out evenly.

Turn out the second layer – remove parchment/pierce with a toothpick – and then place on top of the first layer.  Drizzle the remaining glaze over the top and spread out evenly, allowing a little to drip over the sides.

Allow to cool completely.

Serve as is, or, if you’re feeling decadent with extra glaze and/or ice cream.  I made an extra ½ cup of glaze, and served the cake with extra glaze and a choice of pistachio ice cream and/or strawberry sorbet.

It would probably also be good with fresh fruit and a dab of whipped cream.  Some of these options, obviously, remove it from the category of vegan, but you can mix and match to suit your needs.

I drove myself a little bit crazy last week in a quest for authenticity. I did research, crowd sourced my father and uncles, dithered, and fussed in search of an ‘authentic’ elegant Dutch meal to celebrate the Abdication/Enthronement of Queen Beatrix/King Willem-Alexander*. Then I went ahead and did things like roasting my Brussels sprouts with balsamic, and adding garlic and rosemary and orange zest to my Hazenpeper. I also threw in a splash of buttermilk to my Hete Bliksem for a touch of creaminess. I did this mostly because I couldn’t help myself, and because I thought they would enhance the dishes, even if the additions were inauthentic. This, however, begs the question of what we mean when we say ‘authentic’.

Authentic to what? To a medieval or renaissance dish? Possibly, but also probably not, because I’ve seen medieval cookbooks and been emphatically disinterested in making or eating anything they contained. While I believe that braising rabbit in some kind of alcohol is a cooking solution that’s been around for a while, the seasonings will have changed over time as tastes change. The Middle Ages were into highly spiced dishes, in part to cover the taste of vaguely (or very) rancid meat, but also because that’s the kind of flavor profile they liked.

Or, was I trying to be authentic to my father’s 1950’s childhood? That would have probably eliminated balsamic vinegar from consideration – and my mother would argue it definitely would have eliminated such niceties as roasting Brussels sprouts (although to be fair, my mother is from Virginia not the Netherlands and is possibly being somewhat hyperbolic). It wouldn’t necessarily have made the Hetebliksem made with buttermilk inauthentic since the Dutch both cook with, and drink buttermilk**, although I believe that traditionally it is made without the addition of dairy.

Or perhaps when we say ‘authentic’ what we mean is a mythical dish that never really existed, but that is a composite of what we think something should taste like, or remember it tasting like from our childhoods. Is it essentially something we have a sense memory of, even if that sense memory is itself inauthentic. This is basically where America’s Test Kitchen/Cook’s County lives. They take the dishes that we remember – cherry pie, chicken casserole, pot roast – and figure out what it is about them that we are craving, and then figure out how to achieve that even when that means that the eventual recipe looking nothing like any recipe found in a vintage cookbook. They’re striving for the sensory experience of authenticity rather than a strict adherence to the letter of the recipe, which is why they sometimes do things like add gelatin to beef stew, and shredded apples to blueberry pie filling***.

The quest for authenticity gets even fuzzier when you’re making recipes where you have no sense/taste memory of the dish in question. I’ve never had Hete Bliksem, or Hazenpeper. My renditions of these recipes are my guess at a tradition to which I’ve never actually borne witness; because, as noted last week when we’re in the Netherlands and go out to dinner we go for pancakes or rijstafel like any other self-respecting Dutch family).

It was a question which remained relevant this week when I braised a pork loin, and roasted shrimp, and julienned approximately 1000 vegetables in the service of a meal of ‘Vietnamese’ Summer Rolls that look nothing like any summer roll I’ve ever been served in any restaurant of an Asian persuasion (admittedly US Asian restaurants catering to a US palate, but still). Ditto on next week’s Dinner, which (per a birthday request) is my highly in-authentic take on bahn-mi. I think the only thing that links my bahn-mi to a ‘traditional’ or ‘authentic’ bahn-mi is the Asian flavors and the fact that I’m choosing to call it a bahn-mi – I think you could also plausibly choose to describe it as an Asian twist on a meatball sub without having anyone raise an eyebrow.

I’m not sure that inauthenticity is a bad thing. The orange and rosemary in my Hazenpeper lent it a nice herbal note, and more garlic is never a bad thing in my book. The summer rolls I made for Dinner this week were messy and fun to eat, even if they basically bore no resemblance to their name sake. Cooking is all about improvisation and adding a dash of this and a pinch of that – that’s how half the world’s most beloved recipes came about in the first place. Or maybe I’m just justifying my use of balsamic in a traditional Dutch meal. Could go either way.

* Apparently he’s expressed a preference for Koning Willem-Alexander instead of Koning Alexander IV, and while the hereditary duties and privileges of the monarch may have been reduced I think you should still get to choose what people call you
** My father was offered buttermilk as a beverage choice at board meetings when he worked for a Dutch bank in the early 2000s; I believe he attempted to keep an expression of horror from his face as he declined
*** While I’m not on board with the gelatin in beef stew, I have to say the shredded apples in blueberry pie filling was inspired – it thickens the filling without making it gluey like a cornstarch thickener would.

Vietnamese Summer Rolls
- Orange Ginger Braised Pork Loin
- Garlic/Ginger Roasted Shrimp
- Fixin’s (cucumber, sweet peppers, mango, basil, mint, napa cabbage)
- Rice Paper Wrappers and/or Romaine Lettuce Wrappers

Dipping Sauces
- Orange Ginger Glaze
- Peanut Sauce
- Plum – Sweet Chili Sauce

Spicy Lemon Ginger Soba Noodle Salad

Butter Lettuce Salad w/ Carrot Ginger Dressing

Vietnamese Summer Rolls
(complete menu serves 6-8 – individual components will serve more or less people depending on how you’re pairing any given item)

Orange Ginger Braised Pork
Garlic Ginger Roasted Shrimp
Rice Paper Wrappers
Romaine Lettuce Leaves
Julienned – cucumbers, sweet peppers, mango
Shredded – napa cabbage (or a tangle of rice noodles)
Mint & Basil leaves
Dipping Sauces

You can either assemble summer rolls a few hours in advance – a slice of pork or a few shrimp, some vegetables/fruit, basil & mint. Or you can let people assemble the summer rolls themselves at the table – using either rice paper or romaine lettuce leaves as wrappers. I did it as a make your own at the table which was a little messy, but fun, and more practical time-wise.

Orange Ginger Braised Pork Loin

2+ lb boneless pork loin
1 orange, quartered & thinly sliced (leave peel on)
1 large onion, quartered & thinly sliced
1 cup orange juice
1 cup chicken stock
1 tsp lime juice
2 tsp soy sauce
6 cloves garlic, smashed
1” piece fresh ginger, roughly chopped (you’re looking for a 1:1 ratio on ginger & garlic)
1 tsp ground coriander
Salt/pepper
Vegetable oil
2 Tbsp marmalade
Splash of a mild vinegar (i.e. rice wine/white wine/raspberry)

Combine the first 10 ingredients in a ziplock bag and marinate overnight (pork through coriander).

Remove the pork from the marinade (reserving the marinade). Pat dry and season generously with salt/pepper. Heat some vegetable oil in a large heavy pot and sear the meat on all sides (about 4-5 minutes/side). Add the reserved marinade to the pot, tucking some of the orange/onion pieces under the pork, bring to a simmer, cover and cook until the pork loin is cooked through (about 155-160/40-60 minutes). Allow the pork to cool in the braising liquid.

Remove the pork from the braising liquid and refrigerate overnight.

Strain the braising liquid – feel free to grab a fork and eat the onion/orange mixture from the strainer. Return the braising liquid to the pot and bring back up to a boil. Reduce the liquid by half and then stir in 2 Tbsp of marmalade and a splash of a mild vinegar. Continue to cook until the liquid is glaze like. Adjust seasonings to taste.

To serve, thinly slice the pork and drizzle with some of the glaze.

Garlic/Ginger Roasted Shrimp

1 ½ lb raw shrimp, peeled & deveined (I use frozen)
2 Tbsp vegetable oil
1 Tbsp basil
1/8 cup parsley
1 Tbsp minced garlic (about 2-4 cloves)
1 Tbsp minced ginger (about ½” knob, peeled)
1 Tbsp lemon juice
1 tsp kosher salt
½ tsp crushed red pepper flakes

Combine all ingredients (except the shrimp) in a food processor and pulse until everything is finely chopped (or you can do this by hand – I had my food processor out anyway and decided to make my life easy). Pour the mixture over the shrimp and stir to coat thoroughly. Allow to marinate in the fridge for 2-4 hours.

Preheat your oven to 375/400. Arrange the shrimp on a baking sheet in a single layer and roast for 6-8 minutes, turning them over once.

Serve hot from the oven, or chill and serve cold like a shrimp cocktail.

Dipping Sauces

Orange Ginger Glaze
The original recipe I’m basing the pork on had you just discard the braising liquid. I smelled the fragrant broth, and decided even the notion of throwing it out was heretical and turned it into a quick glaze.

See above – you’re making this from the pork braising liquid

Peanut Sauce
½ cup creamy peanut butter
6-8 Tbsp hot water
2 cloves garlic
1 Tbsp brown sugar
1-2 Tbsp soy sauce (depending on taste)
1-2 Tbsp rice wine vinegar (depending on taste)
1-2 tsp sriracha (optional – but it gives the sauce a little zing)
Pinch red pepper flakes
Zest & juice of 1 lime

Combine all ingredients in a food processor and blend until smooth. Adjust seasonings to taste.

Plum – Sweet Chili Sauce
¼ cup Plum Sauce
1/8 cup Thai Sweet Chili Sauce
(optional – 1 tsp of a hot chili garlic sauce)
1” piece ginger, peeled & grated
½ – 1 tsp ground ginger
1-2 tsp soy sauce (start with less, and add more as needed)
Juice of 1 lime

Whisk all ingredients together in a bowl. Adjust seasonings to taste.

Spicy Lemon Ginger Soba Noodle Salad
(serves 6-8)

Dressing
Zest & juice of 1 lemon
1” piece fresh ginger, peeled, and grated
1 Tbsp honey
¾ tsp cayenne
¾ tsp salt
1/4 cup unseasoned rice wine vinegar
2-4 Tbsp soy sauce (start with less, and add more as you think you need it)
2 Tbsp olive oil
1 Tbsp sesame oil

Blend all together in a food processor. Adjust seasonings to taste (I think I ended up adding more lemon juice because I like things lemony, but this is a matter of preference).

Salad
12 oz soba noodles
1 bunch scallions, thinly sliced
1 cup shelled edamame, cooked
1 cup thinly sliced carrots
Toasted sesame seeds for garnish

Cook the soba noodles according to package instructions. Drain and rinse under cold water. Tosss with dressing, scallions, edamame, and carrots. Garnish with toasted sesame seeds

Butter Lettuce Salad with Carrot/Ginger Dressing
I used diced radishes and apples as a garnish this time.

Recipe previously given: On a Mission

On Tuesday, April 30, 2013 an era ended. After 33 years on the throne, her Majesty Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands stepped down in favor of her son, Crown Prince Willem Alexander. It was the end of her reign, and it also marked the end of 123 years of women at the helm of the Netherlands.

In 1890 Queen Wilhelmina (1880-1962) inherited the throne of the Netherlands upon the death of her father, King William III. Being as she was only 10 at the time of her enthronement, her mother Queen Emma served as Queen Regent until 1898. In 1901 Queen Wilhelmina married Hendrik of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, who is remembered (at least in my family) for his unfortunate, if entertaining, malapropisms (including famously asking a monk if his father had also been of the monastic profession, and then realizing there was something amiss about that question correcting himself and saying, ‘oh, but monk’s don’t have fathers’). In 1909, after a tense eight years and fears that the crown might pass into the hands of the German Imperial family (gasp!), Crown Princess Juliana was born.

Queen Wilhelmina saw her country through two world wars – fleeing to exile in England following the German invasion of the Netherlands in 1940 where she was a beacon of resistance for the Dutch people during the Nazi occupation – the great depression, and the dissolution of the Dutch empire in the East Indies. She also managed, through shrewd financial management, to become one of the wealthiest women in the world, proving that she was smart as well as charismatic. In 1948, after nearly 60 years on the throne, and in failing health, she passed the crown to her daughter.

Queen Juliana (1909-2004) came to the throne in 1948 following her mother’s abdication. She married Bernhard of Lippe-Biesterfeld in 1937. It was a love match which endured throughout their marriage, despite their separation during WWII, his philandering and several illegitimate children (although apparently he was exceedingly charming, and very popular, which I suppose you’d need to be if you’re going to cheat on both your wife and monarch). They had four children – all girls – Beatrix, Irene (more on her later), Margriet, and Christina.

In 1940 Princess Juliana fled to England with the rest of the royal family. Her mother and husband remained in England, while she took the royal children to safety in Canada. She returned to the Netherlands and was reunited with her family in 1945 where she worked closely with the Red Cross providing relief and reconstruction for the war battered country. In 1953 the Netherlands was hit by the worst storm in over 500 years, and the ensuing flooding killed thousands and trapped tens of thousands more. Queen Juliana permanently endeared herself to her people by joining the relief efforts and wading out in boots and an old coat to bring people food and clothing.

Later in life she started to suffer from Alzheimers, and in 1980 she abdicated in favor of her eldest daughter Crown Princess Beatrix.

Queen Beatrix (1938-present) came to the throne in 1980 following her mother’s abdication. In 1966 she created a minor scandal (although nothing like her younger sister’s marriage – really more coming later) by marrying Claus von Amsberg who suffered mostly from being German and marrying into the royal family of a country still recovering from the trauma of WWII. She then went on to shock and delight everyone by bucking tradition and having not one, but three sons – Willem-Alexander, Friso, and Constantijn.

On Tuesday, April 30, 2013, after exactly 33 years on the throne, Queen Beatrix abdicated in favor of her eldest son, Crown Prince Willem-Alexander, saying it was time to, “place the responsibility for the country in the hands of a new generation.” Presumably she then went home, took off her shoes, and prepared to enjoy retirement.

King Willem IV (1967-present) acceded to the throne of the Netherlands on April 30, 2013 immediately following his mother’s abdication. In the tradition of the Dutch royal family, he attended Leiden University where he studied water management (which seems highly relevant and useful). He also, apparently, frequently flies the Dutch royal airplane when he and his family travel abroad, which is a fact I find oddly charming.

For a while the country was a little dubious about the prospective transition from more than a century of sober Queens to what appeared to a somewhat gad-about royal prince – he was known to enjoying sharing a beer, or two or three, with his subjects. However, following his marriage to Maxima (minor scandal because of her father’s role in the Argentinian military dictatorship – but she won the country over in short order) and birth of his three daughters (he’s not bucking tradition) – Catharina-Amalia, Alexia, and Ariane – he settled down.

I am entertained by the fact that King Willem IV’s reign will be just a brief blip in the line of Dutch queens. Barring some tragedy (or, I suppose, conversion to Catholicism – which really is another way of saying tragedy in Dutch* (well, not south of the rivers I guess, but they don’t count, they’re practically Belgian), there will be a Queen Catharina-Amalia at some point later this century.

In honor of the changing of the guard, this is a Dinner inspired by the food and culture of the Netherlands.

If you’d like pictures of the official guests at the pre-Abdication Dinner (the one in the Netherlands) you can peruse some here. No word on what they got to eat, though.

And, for pictures of the actual Abdication/Enthronement, you can see some here.

* You think I jest, but it happened to her Great-Aunt Irene, who secretly converted to Catholicism, married a pretender to the Spanish throne, and was subsequently removed from the line of succession. Her younger sister Christina also converted to Catholicism upon marriage (and removed herself from the line of succession), but at least she did it openly and with significantly less fanfare.

Hazenpeper
Hete Bliksem
Roasted Brussels Sprouts

Boerenjongens and Boerenmeisjes

Putting this menu together was somewhat more challenging than I had anticipated. I wanted a meal that was both special and Dutch. Now, when the Dutch go out to dinner they go out for pancakes (not practical for Dinner because I refuse to get stuck in the kitchen while everyone else eats); rijstafel (tasty, but I wanted something organically Dutch rather than something imported from the colonies); or, apparently, French food. It’s not that I blame them in their preference for foreign food (or pancakes), because as my mother said, ‘have you ever seen a Dutch restaurant?’. Dutch food – like much northern European cuisine – tends to run the gamut of boiled and mashed in a variety of combinations and iterations.

There are lots of blog posts and recipes floating around on the internet for Dutch sweets, because the Dutch make exceedingly good sweets, often filled with marzipan (which, in my opinion, makes everything better). Finding recipes for non-dessert foods is a little harder, particularly when you throw in the caveat that you want it to be a special occasion dish. My local library system surprisingly coughed up five (5!) Dutch cookbooks. I perused them and discovered that they were predominately filled with recipes for either the aforementioned boiled & mashed meat and potatoes meals, or with elaborate dishes that sounded like they’d be more likely to emerge from a Parisian restaurant kitchen than a Dutch home.

In confusion, I turned to my father to ask what they used to eat for holiday meals when he was a boy. I was looking for the Dutch equivalent of the quintessential American Thanksgiving meal, or the storied British Sunday lunch. He considered this and then offered the opinion that when the Dutch want to make a special meal they tend to turn their gazes southward to France or Italy for inspiration. He threw the question to his brothers who confirmed this conclusion, and then kindly sent me recipe suggestions for traditional Dutch recipes, and an awesome awesome bright orange inflatable crown to commemorate the occasion.

Eventually I found a few recipes that looked like they’d been inspired by France, but still remained Dutch in character. I passed them by my father who championed the recipe for Hazenpeper, saying that it was the kind of dish that in his childhood would have been served in the nicer restaurants and better homes. I paired with it with an absolutely traditional mashed potato and apple dish, and somewhat non-traditional roasted Brussels sprouts.

Dessert was the easy part. I could have gone with any one of the many fantastic Dutch sweets, but early on in my search I had run across a recipe which goes by the highly evocative name of Boerenjongens and Boerenmeisjes (country lads & lasses). The recipe involved simmering raisins and/or dried apricots (one is lads and one is lasses, but I’m unclear as to which is which) in a sugar syrup and then soaking them in brandy for six weeks. You serve them with a drizzle of heavy cream, or over ice cream. You understand why I could not pass up the chance to make this, and I’ve had containers of highly alcoholic fruit marinating in my closet for over a month now. The restraint it has taken to not break in and try them early has been heroic on my part.

Hazenpeper (apparently this translates to Jugged Hare? Basically it’s rabbit au vin)
(serves 8)

This is, essentially, a coq au vin but made with rabbit and a lot simpler (well, simpler than Julia Child’s version of coq au vin at any rate). I came across one version of the recipe that thickened the braise with crumbled spice cake, which sounded interesting but wasn’t ultimately the recipe I decided to use. The recipe I did end up using suggested that you could replace the wine with water, which sounded implausibly and unappetizingly frugal. I recommend wine.

You can strip this recipe down to just rabbit, wine, vinegar, onions, and pepper, or you can doll it up with the addition of garlic, rosemary, orange zest, and juniper berries (if you had them – I didn’t, but think they’d be an excellent addition if you did).

Next time I make this – and I will make it again, because it was very tasty – I’ll skip the hassle and expense of finding rabbit and just use skinless bone-in chicken thighs because once the rabbit has been marinated in wine and covered in creamy sauce it really just tastes like chicken.

Stew
2 rabbits (about 2 ½ – 3 lb each), cut into pieces
2 cups red wine
6 Tbsp (3 oz) red wine vinegar
2 smallish onions, roughly chopped
3 bay leaves
1 Tbsp crushed black peppercorns
(optional extras – 2-3 sprigs rosemary; 3-4 smashed cloves garlic, orange zest, 4-6 juniper berries)
3 Tbsp butter
1 ½ tsp sugar (or honey)
¼ cup flour*
6 Tbsp (3 oz) cup heavy cream
Salt/pepper

Combine the red wine, vinegar, pepper, onion, and bay leaves (and rosemary/garlic/orange zest/juniper berries if you’re feeling decadent and using them). Add the rabbit to the marinade and allow to marinate overnight in the fridge.

Remove the rabbit from the marinade and pat dry (reserve the marinade). Season generously with salt and pepper, and then brown in batches in the butter. Add the reserved marinade to the pot, stir in the sugar (or honey) and bring to a simmer. Simmer, covered, for about 45 minutes, or until the meat is tender.

Remove the rabbit pieces from the pan. Strain the cooking liquid into a bowl. Discard the onion/garlic/etc, and return the cooking liquid to the pan.

If you are making this in advance return the rabbit to the pan with the cooking liquid, allow to cool to room temperature and refrigerate overnight. Bring back up to a simmer for about 20 minutes to heat the meat through before proceeding (remove the rabbit to a serving dish while you continue).

Whisk the flour with a little of the braising liquid to form a smooth paste. Whisk the paste into the simmering braising liquid and cook until it has thickened. Reduce the heat and stir in the cream. Season to taste.

Ladle some of the gravy over the rabbit on the serving dish, and serve the rest of the gravy on the side. Pass the platter of rabbit & gravy with a bowl of the cranberry sauce (see below).

* The original recipe called for a full ½ cup of flour which I thought would turn the nice gravy basically into glue. I’d start with a ¼ cup and add more flour as you thought was necessary to thicken your sauce.

Cranberry Sauce
The original recipe has you make a basic boiled cranberry sauce – I substituted my standard roasted cranberry sauce, and brought it back up to a low simmer before I served it so it was warm instead of cold.
Recipe previously given: Obscure Realities

Hete Bliksem (translates to Hot Lightening; I have no idea why)
(serves 4-6)

2 ¼ lb potatoes, quartered
1 ¾ lb (tart) apples, peeled & cut into chunks
3 Tbsp butter
¼ lb bacon, diced & cooked until crispy
Salt/pepper

Bring a large pot of water and 1 Tbsp butter to a boil. Add the potatoes and apples and cook until the potatoes are tender (about 20 minutes). Remove 1 cup of the cooking liquid and then drain the potatoes and apples. Return them to the pan, add 1 Tbsp butter and mash, adding as much of the reserved cooking liquid as you need to make a nice loose(ish) mash (I used maybe a ½ cup of the cooking liquid). Season to taste with salt/pepper. If you are feeling decadent (or have accidentally over salted your potatoes because the top fell off of your salt shaker) you can add a splash of buttermilk.

Serve with the remaining 1 Tbsp butter dotted over the top, and scattered with the crispy bacon pieces.

Roasted Brussels Sprouts
Brussels Sprouts are a fairly traditional Dutch vegetable dish, although my mother refutes the idea that your traditional Dutch housewife would have done anything as exotic as roasting them, much less with balsamic vinegar and honey. She’s probably right, but there’s authenticity and then there’s boiled Brussels Sprouts and my quest for legitimacy only extends so far.

Enough Brussels sprouts to feed as many people as needed (about ½ lb per person give or take). Drizzle of olive oil. Drizzle of balsamic vinegar. Drizzle of honey or maple syrup. Salt/pepper. Roast at 375/400 for 25-30 minutes until crispy and cooked through, tossing once.

Boerenjongens and Boerenmeisjes (translates to Country Lads & Country Lasses)
(serves . . . . well, it depends on how inebriated you wish to end the evening)

As I said above, I’m unclear as to gender properties of the raisins and apricots. Are raisins and cinnamon more masculine or feminine? Is the shape of the apricot suggestive of the feminine? I arbitrarily decided that raisins + cinnamon = lads, and apricots + lemon peel = lasses, but I don’t think it makes much difference either way.

1 cup water
1 cinnamon stick (for the lads)/ pared rind of ½ lemon (for the lasses)
(generous) ½ cup sugar
¾ cup golden raisins (lads?)
¾ cup dried apricots, cut into quarters (lasses?)
2 cups brandy

For the lads
Bring ½ cup water, ¼ cup sugar, and the cinnamon stick to a boil in a small saucepan. Stir until the sugar is dissolved. Add the raisins and simmer for 10 minutes. Cool and refrigerate for 48 hours. Add 1 cup brandy. Marinate for 4-6 weeks.

For the lasses
Bring ½ cup water, ¼ cup sugar, and the lemon peel to a boil in a small saucepan. Stir until the sugar is dissolved. Add the dried apricots and simmer for 10 minutes. Cool and refrigerate for 48 hours. Add 1 cup brandy. Marinate for 4-6 weeks.

Serve with a drizzle of heavy cream, or spooned over very good vanilla ice cream.

In my experience, Celebrity/Name Chef cookbooks tend to come in three varieties.

The first is what I call the ‘It’s more about the lifestyle than the recipes’ variety. Much as I love Ina Garten, this is where I put most of her cook books. I basically want to be Ina Garten – I want her house, her garden, and especially her pantry – but I find her cook books are more about an aesthetic than they are about new and/or interesting recipes. I don’t know that anyone needs another recipe for butternut squash soup, or for chicken salad, or strawberry shortcake. The genius in her books is providing inspirational aspirational pretty pretty pictures of food and friends. I’d also class Nigella Lawson (who I also love) in this phylum of the cookbook world.

Then there are the ‘Well, now I want to go to your restaurant’ cookbooks. These are cookbooks filled with recipes I will never ever make, but that make my mouth water. They are the cookbooks I close and then start plotting how to get to whatever restaurant that chef owns – I just flipped through Dirt Candy and now desperately want to go to New York to eat there (and it takes a lot to persuade me to go to New York – although, while I was there I suppose I could also go to Red Rooster in Harlem).

Why won’t I ever make these recipes? They call for ingredients I can’t even begin to imagine how I’d source (Mourad: New Moroccan). They require timing that I can’t pull off because I don’t have that many burners on my stove, or an inclination to be stuck in the kitchen while everyone else is enjoying a glass of wine in the living room. Or, they require so many separate component parts for each dish that just reading the recipe overwhelms me (Dirt Candy). She has a dish that’s a play on a traditional Chinese steamed pork bun that has you make a bun dough with carrot juice, and then stuff it with a roasted barbequed carrot filling, and then drizzle it with a carrot hoisin sauce, and serve it with a cucumber ginger salad and carrot halvah on the side. I really want to eat that, but just typing out all the component parts was exhausting, and basically I want someone else to do all that work for me. Or, the Smoked Cauliflower & Waffles which involves smoking some cauliflower, pickling other cauliflower, making waffles, making a horseradish cream sauce, and a maple arugula salad. It all sound fantastic and a lot fussier than I have any interest in making myself. Recipes/dishes like these are exactly why I go to fancy restaurants, so someone else can tantalize my palate.

Then there are the cookbooks that manage to hit that magic sweet spot between innovative and imaginative restaurant dishes that are still accessible to the home cook. Ottolenghi is good at this – I’ve book marked about 27 recipes from his two cookbooks (Plenty and Jerusalem) and to date I’ve made seven of them, some repeatedly. Ana Sortun’s cookbook Spice – she’s the chef/owner of one of my favorite restaurants in Boston (to which I’ve now actually been – it totally lived up to the hype!), Oleana also hits the mark. Admittedly so far I’ve only actually made one of them, but I have real concrete plans to make more at some point in time. Honestly.

Buttermilk Roasted Chicken
Butternut Squash Orzotto
Roasted Radishes
Green Beans

Buttermilk Roasted Chicken
(serves 4-6)

3 lb bone-in chicken pieces (I used legs & thighs)
2 cups buttermilk
1 lemon, zested & juiced
1 Tbsp rosemary, chopped (or 2 Tbsp fresh thyme or dill, or whatever floats your boat)
1 ½ tsp salt
1 tsp pepper

Mix all the ingredients together and marinate for at least 8 hours, or overnight.

Preheat your oven to 450.

Pat the chicken dry. Arrange on a lightly oiled (& lined for easy clean up) baking sheet. Roast for 35-40 minutes, or until cooked through and skin is super crispy.

Butternut Squash Orzotto
(serves 4-6)

I love risotto, but I never ever make it. Why? Because I think it’s fiddly, and time consuming, and frequently I don’t have enough stove space to have one pot of risotto going and another pot of simmering stock. So, any form of risotto or risotto-reminiscent/adjacent dish that doesn’t require me to stir constantly is going to be something that catches my eye. This particular recipe also uses shredded butternut squash to create a creamy texture/sauce for the orzotto, and we all know how I feel about butternut squash in things (very very positive, if you’re new here).

1 ½ lb butternut squash, finely shredded
Butter or olive oil
1 cup pearled barley
2 (small) leeks, chopped
2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
¼ cup white wine
4 cups stock and/or water
1 tsp thyme, chopped (I think sage would be good too)
¼ tsp salt, or to taste
1/8 tsp pepper, or to taste
Juice of ½ lemon, or to taste
Splash of brandy or sherry
Drizzle of maple syrup or honey
Parmesan, for garnish

Shred the butternut squash in a food processor and reserve. I recommend using the smaller/finer shredder attachment if your food processor gives you two shredding size options. You could also grate the squash, but the food processor is faster, easier, and saves your knuckles. This will look like a ridiculously large quantity of butternut squash, but it cooks down.

Heat some butter or olive oil in a heavy pan and sauté the barley until toasted (about 2-3 minutes). Add the leeks and garlic and sauté until wilted. Add the white wine and cook until the liquid is almost completely reduced.

Add the shredded squash, the stock/water, thyme, and salt. Simmer uncovered for 30-40 minutes, or until the squash is tender and the barley is cooked, but still has a little chew.

Taste, and then season with lemon juice, brandy/sherry (if using), a little maple syrup, and additional salt/pepper as needed (I found it needed a lot of salt and pepper, but if you’re using a salted chicken stock you will probably need less).

Serve with parmesan cheese on the side.

Roasted Radishes
(serves 4-6)

Honestly I’ve just always wanted to roast a radish to see what happens. Verdict: Possibly more interesting in theory than in practice. They weren’t bad, they just weren’t exceptional either.

1 lb radishes, trimmed
Olive oil
Lemon juice
Salt/pepper

Preheat oven to 425-450. Toss radishes with olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper (halve the radishes if they’re large, but I had small radishes). Roast for 15-20 minutes, stirring once. Serve.

True confession?  I don’t really like most frosting.  People always look first horrified, and then deeply pitying when I say this.

What I have kind of always wanted to do is a blind taste test of all variations on buttercream frosting to see which one, if any, I like, so that I’ll know for future reference.  I suspect I’ve had all the variations on buttercream at some point in time or another, but without knowing which one I was eating at any given time I have no way to know if there’s one I find (more) acceptable.

There’s the classic American Buttercream which is mostly just whipped butter and sugar, sometimes cut with a little milk or chocolate.  I really only like bastardized variations on this in which the milk/chocolate to butter ratio is more or less reversed.

There’s Swiss Meringue Buttercream in which egg whites and sugar are cooked together, and then beaten until fluffy, and then a lot of butter is gradually beaten in piece by piece.

There’s Italian Meringue Buttercream in which you whip egg whites until stiff and then slowly pour in hot sugar syrup to cook the meringue, and then beat in a lot of butter piece by gradual piece.

Then there’s French Buttercream which involves whisking hot sugar syrup into egg yolks, and then incorporating a lot of butter.

The common theme to all of those frostings is the incorporation of a lot of butter at some point in time.  Since the way that the butter fat slicks the inside of my mouth is the part of buttercream that I don’t like, it’s possible that I don’t like buttercream of any variation.

This might be deeply tragic, except for the existence of cream cheese frosting.  Let it be firmly stipulated that I have no issues with cream cheese frosting whatsoever.  Red Velvet Cake is, in my opinion, basically an excuse to eat cream cheese frosting.  Cream cheese frosting will get me to eat carrot cake – which generally I feel occupies a strange liminal space between vegetable and dessert without being either healthy enough to qualify as a vegetable, or decadent enough to justify the calories of a dessert.  However, if you slather enough cream cheese frosting on to it I’ll take a slice, if for no other reason than I can then surreptitiously eat the frosting, pick out the raisins, and leave the cake.  What?  It’s cream cheese frosting, stop judging me.

Last night for my birthday dessert I was gifted with the sine qua non of all cream cheese frostings.  This is to say, peanut butter cream cheese frosting sandwiched in between layers of cake so rich and dense it was basically fudge, and then topped with a thick layer of ganache.  Now my parents who are freaks of nature and don’t like the combination of chocolate and peanut butter – I have no idea how I am related to them at all – will not think this sounds appealing.  Everyone else can be deeply envious.  I shall bask in the benefits of having a friend who’s a pastry chef, and the remembered glow of so much sugar I’m now actually a little hung over from how much I ate.

Beef, Leek & Barley Soup
Beer/Cider Bread
Cheddar/Goat Cheese
Radishes/Oranges
Salad

Chocolate Peanut Butter Cake

Beef Leek & Barley Soup
In my defense it was flipping cold when I planned this week’s Dinner menu.  The fact that it was 72 degrees outside on Tuesday, and my office building has apparently decided this means it’s okay to turn off the heat in the building – which means I am bundled in scarf and fingerless gloves and running my space heater – is just a sign that it’s a New England Spring, without rhyme or reason and as likely to snow as it is to be sunny and warm.

Recipe previously given:  This is the Week That Was

Beer/Cider Bread
After the Election Night Dinner back in November I found myself with a lot of leftover beer, and since we’re not particularly beer drinkers I had to find something creative to do with it.  The internet came to my rescue and provided this super simple, super tasty recipe for beer bread.

You can make it – and I have – with pretty much any kind of beer.  I think the darker the beer the better, and a super hoppy beer might make it a little bitter, but that’s a personal preference.  You can substitute a hard cider for the beer, although it will give you a sweeter bread.  It’s fantastic in the Fall with a pumpkin beer + a generous hand with cinnamon and cloves.  For Dinner this week I made one loaf with a doppelbock, and one loaf with a honey cider.

If you don’t have whole wheat flour on hand, you can make this with all white flour, although I like the way the whole wheat flour plays off the beer.

2 2/3 cups whole wheat flour
1 1/3 cups white flour
4 tsp baking powder
(generous) 1 tsp salt
1/8 tsp pepper
(optional – ¼ – ½ tsp of a complimentary spice – see below for variations)
4 tsp molasses
19 oz beer (or 1 bottle beer + however much water you need to make 19 oz)
1 egg, beaten
Coarse Salt/Cracked Pepper

Preheat oven to 375.  Generously grease a 9×5 loaf pan (I add extra insurance in the form of a parchment sling).

Sift together the dry ingredients.  Stir in the molasses and beer.  Turn the dough into the prepared loaf pan (it will be a very thick and sticky batter).

Brush the top with the beaten egg and sprinkle with coarse salt and cracked pepper.  You can also sprinkle the top decoratively with other garnishes – I used pumpkin seeds for the beer bread, and some crushed apple chips for the cider bread.

Bake for 45-50 minutes, or until a tester comes out clean.  Allow to cool for 5 minutes in pan, then remove from pan and allow to cool completely.  Slice and serve.

Dobbelbock Beer Bread
4 tsp molasses
(scant) ¼ tsp cloves
Orange zest
- garnished with salt/pepper/pumpkin seeds

Honey Cider Bread
4 tsp honey
(generous) 1 tsp cinnamon
(scant) ½ tsp ginger
- garnished with crumbled dried apple chips (these burned, dried apples might work better – or you could skip them altogether, I actually mostly just wanted a visual way to distinguish between the two loaves of bread)

Oranges
Nobody is dying of scurvy on my watch.

Chocolate Peanut Butter Cake
Okay, so my birthday is in December, but my birthday dessert got a little sidetracked by things like Christmas, and vacations, and absences from Dinner due to an out of town spouse, and Passover, and who knows what else.  We got around to it last night, and it was absolutely and entirely worth the wait.

I was asked me if there was anything I was craving, and I thought about it but couldn’t pinpoint what I wanted other than a layer cake that answered to the sobriquets ooey and gooey.

I got Smitten Kitchen’s Chocolate Peanut Butter Cake

(pretty pictures nabbed from her website because hers are gorgeous, and I forgot to take pictures in my eagerness to hack into the cake (see below) – although it did look pretty much exactly like this, which is what happens when trained pastry chefs make dessert for you).

It is exactly as lethal as it sounds.

Mardi Gras was February 12th this year. I know I planned to do a repeat of the Mardi Gras Dinner from last year with red beans & rice and grilled smoked meats, but something came up and that plan got nixed. I’m now completely blanking on what came up exactly to put the kibosh on that Dinner, and looking at my calendar did not magically remind me of what it was. However, I do know that having originally thought of having red beans & rice way back in early February, I’ve been haunted by thoughts of bowls of rich, thick, slow stewed beans, redolent with the flavor of smoked ham, and warm with the scents of allspice and cloves, with just a hint of heat to balance it out, ladled over buttery rice and served with piles of grilled smoked meats. Just writing it makes my mouth water.

Since I missed Mardi Gras, I decided to celebrate the other end of the Lenten Season with the New Orleans inspired menu from last year. Not because I particularly associate Easter with New Orleans – I associate Easter with Greece and whole roasted lambs on spits, but that’s a trifle impractical for my kitchen, and what would I do with all the leftovers – but because I was looking for an excuse and this seemed like a good one.

Red Beans & Rice
Grilled Smoked Meats
Collard Greens Salad with Pickled Apples
Orange Wedges

Easter Candy (Cadburys Mini Eggs + Cadbury Crème Eggs + Jelly Beans, because what is Easter without jelly beans?)

Whole Menu Previously Given: Laissez les bon temps roulez

I accidentally deleted all the pictures of this dinner. Ooops.

* Check Monday’s date . . . go ahead, I’ll wait.

Problems I have never had:

One
There was an article earlier this year in the NYT about the dangers of immersion blenders. I clicked on it curiously, and discovered that it wasn’t so much about the dangers of immersion blenders as it was the dangers of cooking while stupid. The gist of the article was that people who attempted to clean their immersion blenders while they were still plugged into the wall socket tended to get their fingers sliced up when they accidentally depressed the power button on the blender.

Now, (a) cleaning your immersion blender while it’s still plugged into the wall strikes me as cumbersome – it’s much easier to clean if you disconnect the motor end from the blade end because it is then shorter and less unwieldy to manipulate; and (b) why would you stick your fingers in something that is sharp and designed to puree things while it’s plugged into the wall? Would you also stick your fingers into the cuisinart while the blades are running?

Not slicing up your hands on the blades of an immersion blender seems to me to be fairly easy to avoid – don’t stick your fingers near the blades while it’s plugged into a power source. Problem solved. Next?

Two
There are, apparently, many many people who don’t like chopping garlic not because they don’t like mincing things but because they don’t like the way it makes their hands smell. The sheer number of column inches and products devoted to how to avoid touching garlic and/or cleaning your hands afterwards is mildly mind boggling. The weirdest one I’ve come across recently was the suggestion to rub your hands vigorously against the side of your (stainless steel) sink under running water. I’ve also seen ads for the stainless steel disks shaped like bars of soap that you can use to wash your hands.

Personally, I’ve never found that a garlic smell lingered on my hands after I’d finished washing up from whatever it was I was cooking. By the time I’ve finished mincing my garlic and washed a sinkful of dishes that garlic smell is gone – it’s not like capsacin in hot peppers that will linger on your hands (and generally under your finger nails, particularly when you have a cut you didn’t know about) even after washing your hands multiple times. Perhaps this is an advertisement for not having a dishwasher – if you have a dishwasher you’re less likely to spend enough time with your hands doused in soapy water to eliminate the garlic smell?

Failing that, if I am going to be mincing garlic I’ll do it first and then mince something else that’s going into the recipe – mint, basil, lemon zest, ginger – so that’s the smell that’s left on my hands at the end. Although, that said, I don’t actually find the smell of garlic on my hands all that offensive. I can’t quite imagine how much garlic I’d have to be chopping up to get to a point where it was egregious.

Three
Disposing of Spring produce. This is mostly because I have yet to see any local Spring produce, notwithstanding the many cooking magazine articles, blog posts, and emails from recipe websites, helpfully suggesting meals involving fresh radishes, baby turnips, new peas, and – the holy grail of Spring produce – asparagus. There’s still snow on the ground in Massachusetts. Crocuses are only just starting to put forth green shoots above the wintery landscape.

Now, I acknowledge that I live in the Northeast and that Spring will come late for me – by which I mean, it will be May before I see local asparagus – but I am genuinely curious about where exactly anyone is getting local asparagus in mid-March. I say this because my mother – who lives a lot further south than I do – emailed asking for a vegetable side dish suggestion and when I asked if she was getting asparagus yet, she laughed and laughed, and then said no. If she’s not seeing asparagus until late April, where exactly is seeing asparagus and fresh peas and new radishes right now?

Anyway, maybe it’s just me.

However, for those of use still mired in the winter that will not end, the past two weeks of Dinner have been an indulgence in comfort food, which apparently translates to cooking with a lot of creamed corn. This week, I experimented with the idea that not all Chinese food has to be a stir fry (verdict?  experiment successful – shall continue to explore).

Dinner 2 Weeks Ago
Pan Fried Chicken Cutlets
Corn Pudding (recipe previously given: Corn Pudding & Other Gateway Drugs)
Green Beans
Apple Sauce (recipe previously given: Bangers-n-Mash)

Dinner 1 Week Ago
White Chicken Chili (recipe previously given: Election Night)
Creamed Corn Cornbread (recipe previously given: End of Birthday Season 2012)
Salad

Dinner This Week
Chinese Braised Chicken with Chestnuts
Rice
Grilled Baby Bok Choi

Chinese Braised Chicken with Chestnuts
(serves 6-8)

3 lb boneless-skinless chicken thighs, fat trimmed & cut into 1” strips
6 Tbsp soy sauce, divided
Vegetable oil
12 dried shitake mushrooms
½ red onion, minced (or 2 shallots)
6 scallions, cut into 2” lengths (+ more for garnish)
6 cloves garlic, minced
1” fresh ginger, peeled & julienned
10-14 oz (peeled & cooked) chestnuts (I went heavy on the chestnuts because I love chestnuts)
1 cup hot water
1/3 cup medium dry sherry
Zest of 1 orange
Juice of ½ orange
3 Tbsp honey
1-2 dried star anise
1 (3”) cinnamon stick
2 tsp cornstarch (optional)

Pour the hot water over the dried shitake mushrooms in a small bowl and allow to rehydrate for 30-45 minutes. When hydrated remove from soaking liquid (reserve), trim the stems off and cut each mushroom into halves or quarters (depending on size).

Marinate the trimmed & cut up chicken in 3 Tbsp soy sauce for 10-15 minutes.

In a little vegetable oil brown the chicken in batches in a large heavy dutch oven – about 3-4 minutes per side – adding more oil as needed. Remove and reserve.

In the same pan sauté the onion, scallions, garlic and ginger until fragrant and slightly softened. Add the mushrooms and their soaking liquid (I strained mine) and scrape up any browned bits on the bottom of the pan. Add the sherry, honey, remaining 3 Tbsp soy sauce, orange zest & juice, star anise and cinnamon stick. Stir to combine. Return chicken to pan with any accumulated juices. Bring to a simmer and cook, covered for 15-20 minutes. Uncover, add the chestnuts, and continue to cook for 15-20 minutes until chicken is tender and sauce is reduced.

If you want a thicker sauce, whisk 2 tsp cornstarch with some of the braising liquid in a small bowl, then stir the slurry into the pot and cook until thickened (about 5-10 minutes).

Garnish with more chopped scallion greens if desired (this is mostly just aesthetic). Serve with rice.

Dinner – January 29th (= Messy, but Yummy)
Indonesian Chicken
Spiced Basmati Rice
Spiced Broccoli with Coconut
Fresh Pineapple Wedges

Follow the yellow brick road (err, link) for recipes

Dinner – February 5th (= minor recipe fail)
Sausages
Baked Barley Risotto
Whole Roasted Onions
Green Beans

Follow the yellow brick road (err, link) for recipes

Dinner – February 12th (= At least I taught her full Indian dinner)
Chana Masala
Saag with Roasted Butternut Squash
Roasted Cauliflower
Naan
Pomegranate Raita
Sweet & Spicy Pickled Kumquats

Follow the yellow brick road (err, link) for recipes

Dinner – February 19th (= Phyllo need not apply)
Chicken Pot Pie with Biscuit Crust
Green Beans
Salad

Follow the yellow brick road (err, link) for recipes

Dinner – February 26th
Actually there was no Dinner this week because we were all trying to recover from the late night & gastronomic excesses of the Oscars on Sunday (or at least I was).

Dinner – March 5th (= What’s Making Me Happy This Week)
Pork Stew with Hard Cider, Pearl Onions & Potatoes
Salad w/ Apples & Cider Vinaigrette
Bread

Follow the yellow brick road (err, link) for recipes

I have been feeling somewhat excessively negative lately – I think it’s a combination of not enough sleep, the dragging tail end of winter, and irritation that I don’t have a day off from work until Memorial Day – so rather than talk about all the things that are annoying me with the food world, I’m going to talk about the things making me happy.  

The Mid Century Menu Blog in which the writer (and her long suffering husband) make – and more impressively, eat – recipes culled from mid-century cookbooks.  In particular this post on Liver Pate made me giggle out loud.  The general response to it seems to be horror, swiftly followed by the question, ‘why are there pureed green beans in this dish?’

Hugh’s Three Good Things on a Plate, by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall (a fearsomely & awesomely British name) which is filled with recipes that feature three (see title) key ingredients married on a plate.  I bookmarked recipes like eggs, garam masala & broccoli rabe where sauted broccoli rabe and six minute eggs are drizzled with a garam masala spiced butter; and kale, onions & chestnuts where a rough puree of caramelized onions and chestnuts becomes the sauce on a thin crust pizza/flatbread topped with sauted kale and more caramelized onions; or strawberries, meringue & cream, where a meringue is turned into a jelly roll filled with whipped cream and strawberries (I am now anxiously awaiting strawberry season so I can make this, even if I’m very dubious about the logistics of rolling up a meringue like a jelly roll).

Pepperplate which is a recipe indexing website that may the solution to my chaotic recipe needs.  This is to say, I check interesting cookbooks out of the library and retype the 8-10 recipes from them that appeal to me, but then I have all these recipes sitting around on my hard drive (or well, my google drive) that aren’t indexed in any useful way.  Pepperplate is (a) free; and (b) lets you input recipes either manually or import them from a website, and then tag them with the source, and any tags you care to add.  I’ve uploaded about 28 recipes so far, and we’ll see how I like it long term, but so far it’s very user friendly and has a nice clean design, so I’m optimistic.

And then there are some things that haven’t happened yet, but the anticipation of which are making me happy.

The invitations for the 15th Anniversary Celebration of Dinner went out last week – and they look gorgeous thanks to a friend who is a graphic designer and turned my overly wordy invitation into something elegant but whimsical.  I/we decided to do an anniversary cookbook of Dinner to go with the event and I’m looking forward to seeing what people email as their favorite recipes and memories of Dinner.

The upcoming abdication of Queen Beatrix on April 30th.  This is not because I have a particularly firmly held opinion about either Queen Beatrix (other than that she’s clearly awesome), or her successor Crown Prince Willem Alexander (other than that he has big high heeled shoes to fill after 123 years of wildly successful and popular queens), but mostly because it has allowed me to poke around at my Dutch heritage and create a menu worthy of commemorating this momentous occasion.  This involved library research, the internet, and then emailing my father to ask whether any of the recipes I was finding sounded remotely authentic to something he’d ever eaten.

A future series of Dinners that I’m calling ‘Around the World in 80 Breakfasts’ (just to clarify – there won’t actually be 80).  I have menus sketched out for a Middle Eastern inspired breakfast that will let me experiment with yeast (making simit bread – possibly this is overly ambitious of me, but we’ll see), and make ful medames.  There’s also a Southern breakfast of Biscuits & Sausage Gravy (and eggs, and lots and lots of fruit) in the works.  And, when I’ve worked out the logistics of making kedgeree fish-free there will be a Victorian Breakfast with kedgeree, and . . . well something else, not sure what yet.  More Dinners to come as they occur to me.

Pork Stew with Hard Cider, Pearl Onions & Potatoes
Salad w/ Apples & Apple Cider Vinaigrette
Bread

Pork Stew with Hard Cider, Pearl Onions & Potatoes
Dinner this week was inspired by a need/desire to use up some of the many many bottles of cider taking up space in my fridge.  I bought a case of hard cider to have at the Oscar party, and then had about half of it left over.    This recipe neatly used up two of the bottles, and I served cider with Dinner and ended up with four left in my fridge which is reasonable, and more to the point fits on the door of the fridge out of the way.

Recipe previously given:  Day Late & a Dollar Short
Salad w/ Apples & Apple Cider Vinaigrette
Apple Cider Vinaigrette also leftover from the Oscars, and I figured as long as I was working an apple/cider theme . . .

Apple Cider Vinaigrette Recipe previously given:  The Third Thing