Strawberry Crisp with Pine Nut Topping

This dessert suffers from an identity crisis. Or rather a vocabulary crisis. Yes, I've called it a crisp, but what differentiates it from a crumble, a grunt, a brown betty, or a cobbler?
Now, from what wikipedia tells me, the cobbler (and its derivations, including the crisp) is the US equivalent of the UK crumble. Now I've made far more crumbles in my life than cobblers, most of them in the US. What makes one belong on the eastern side of the Atlantic or the western side, I still have no idea.
All I know is that whatever you call it, this crumble/crisp/grunt/brown betty/cobbler is one of my favorite desserts of all time. A delicious fruity sweet confection, topped with some combination of oats, sugar, flour, and spices.
Why Bittman wanted to mess with this time-honored combination, I have no idea. But there he went, putting pine nuts with it.
Why? Who knows?
I never had a crumble in my life and thought "Wow, you know what would make this perfect? Pine nuts."
But I was curious. What if it was amazing? What if it raised crumbles (etc.) to a whole new plane of existence? How could I not try it? I even had (absurdly expensive) pine nuts on hand! The recipe was calling to be made.

How did it turn out?
Well, it tasted....like a crumble. Despite the avowed 1/2 cup of ground pine nuts added to the crumble topping, there was no new depth of flavor to be had. It tasted like the good ol' combination of oats, flour, sugar, etc. No new boundaries of cuisine pushed here. So, while the product was certainly scrumptious (I mean, there's nothing wrong with a crumble tasting like a regular crumble), but I don't think pine nuts will be making a permanent addition to my dessert culinary standards.
Ah well, at least we tried it. Better luck next time, Bitty.

Ingredients
6 cups strawberries
Juice of 1/2 lemon
1 tablespoons sugar
2 teaspoons cornstarch
2/3 cup brown sugar
5 tablespoons cold butter
1/2 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup crushed pine nuts
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon almond extract
Salt

Method
1. Toss strawberries with lemon juice, sugar, cornstarch; spread in a greased 8-or-9-inch pan.

2. Combine brown sugar, butter, rolled oats, flour, pine nuts, cinnamon, a dash of salt (and almond extract if you like) in a food processor (bah, don't be lazy, just stir by hand).

3. Crumble over fruit and bake at 375 for 40 to 45 minutes.

Spicy Smoky S'mores Bars

Oh s'mores. Simple yet enduringly delicious. And, surprisingly perhaps, quintessentially American. I attribute this to the lack of the campfire concept in Britain. Although I haven't been camping here myself, I have had enough North American friends go off packing into the wilds of Cornwall or Somerset to come back and bemoan the lack of a proper campfire. Apparently it's just "not done" in England. Tis a shame. For without campfires there cannot be a proper s'more experience. 

But it's not just the campfire. Not really. No, this country will never appreciate the s'more until graham crackers are accepted here. Because honestly, when a recipe (if you can even call the directions for s'mores that) calls for only three ingredients, you'd better have all three. I don't care what they say about using biscuits (the British kind, mind you), tea cakes, cookies, what have you. There is something strangely unique about the graham cracker. And its presence (or lack thereof) will make or break any good s'more recipe.

I digress.

I miss s'mores, sure. But I hadn't thought about them in years. Not until a recently published article on Slate talked about the wonders of cooking shows and their potential to get you to, well, cook. Now, I haven't seen the show which this recipe comes from (Ann Thornton, we salute you) but this recipe is living proof that not just shows can get you to cook, articles about cooking shows can get you to cook equally as well (ok, well, maybe I'm a captive audience, but still). As soon as the article mentioned something about s'mores bars with chipotle chile, there was no going back. As the article said: I had to make them.

So I did.

But alas. I am in a graham-cracker free country. The fact that usually suppresses any lingering urge in me to make s'mores. But no. This was too delicious-looking a recipe to pass up. I would press on. And so I found myself trawling the biscuit aisle of Tesco, vainly in search of something that resembled the quintessential American graham cracker. In the end, I decided on a mixture of butter and ginger biscuits. Yes, yes, I know. Twas not a graham cracker. Biscuits are too sugary- too full of butter. They don't have the glorious thin "crispness" of the graham cracker. But desperate times, people. Desperate times.

And did I mention these things are ABSOLUTELY DELICIOUS? Oh goodness. You can't get enough of them. They feature the same magical simple goodness as original s'mores, the kind that leaves you wondering how just a few ingredients can turn into utter bliss. These things are dangerous, I warn you now.

Made even more so by the fact that the recipe is simple as pie. Despite lack of graham, the biscuit base did just as well (I mean, honestly, they're biscuits. They were not going to taste horrible). True, it was not the original s'more all Americans know and love, but these bars are so more-ish (to use a British phrase) anyway that you forgive them their shortcomings. True s'mores will have to wait for American soil, but in the meantime, these will do quite nicely.

Ingredients
1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter, melted, plus more, softened, for pan
18 plain graham crackers (about 2 packages) (or, if in Britain, a combination of ginger and butter biscuits, probably around 15-20 in total)
1/4 cup sugar
3/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
2 cups milk chocolate chips
1 cup (or 1 bar) dark chocolate (I used Green & Black's Maya Gold chocolate)
3/4 teaspoon chipotle pepper powder
1/2 teaspoon ancho chile power
1/4 teaspoon cayenne
3 1/2 cups mini-marshmallows

The graham cracker (ok, biscuit) crust

Directions
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F (or approximately 175 C). Line the bottom and sides of a 9 by 13-inch baking pan with foil. You want to leave about 4 inches of overhang on the 2 opposite sides. These are going to serve as your handles to remove the bars from the pan in 1 piece, so make sure that there is enough of the overhang for you to have a solid grip. Grease the foil well with the softened butter.

In your food processor (or in a plastic bag), grind the graham crackers into a fine meal (you need 2 cups). In a large bowl, combine your crumbs with the sugar, sea salt and melted butter. The mixture should look and feel like wet sand. Set aside a heaping 1/2 cup of the crumb mixture for the topping. Evenly press the remaining crumb mixture into the bottom the foil-lined pan. Pop your crust into the oven and bake until it is golden brown and your kitchen smells of graham crackers, 12 to 15 minutes. Remove the crust from the oven and allow it to cool on a rack or on a dishtowel on your counter.

The bars, pre-broiler

Melt the milk chocolate in a saucepan over low heat, stirring continuously until fully melted. Do not turn up the heat to hurry this process, you must keep it on low. Alternately, you can microwave the chocolate on low power, stirring after 2 minutes. Once the chocolate is fully melted, it's time to add various chile powders, if using, and stir it in completely.

Preheat the broiler.

Pour the melted chocolate over the cooled graham cracker crust. Spread the chocolate evenly over the crust with a butter knife. Sprinkle the marshmallows over the chocolate and press them lightly into the chocolate. Sprinkle the reserved crumb mixture over and in between the marshmallows so that you cannot see the chocolate peaking through the marshmallows. Broil the bars 6 inches from the flame until the marshmallows are golden brown, 1 to 2 minutes.

Refrigerate the bars until the chocolate is hard, 2 hours or so. Grab the ends of the foil liner and lift the bars out of the pan in 1 piece. Move to a cutting board and cut into 24 squares.

Bacon-Topped Cornbread with Chiles and Cheese

I get hungry just by looking at the name of this dish. I mean, goodness, what isn't there to love? I feel this should be part of my ongoing series of why "Everything's better with bacon". Because it clearly is.

There's no denying cornbread is an American staple. Humble and easy to make, it goes with just about anything. Drizzle honey over it and make it sweet. Chop up some bacon (as we see above) and make it savory. It's hard to go wrong with cornbread.

But strangely, cornbread is still a foreign entity to most Brits. Baked in a skillet, there's something fantastically "frontier-y" about it. There are about 8 million recipes for cornbread online and debates as to how to make it properly can be fierce. While cornbread seems to span the length and breadth of America, you can be judged instantly on where you're from depending on how you make it. Now, I don't have a secret family recipe for it (clearly, as I'm posting this online) but this one, slightly modified from this version via epicurious is tasty as any I've had and fairly easy to make. Judging from the bacon added, I'm thinking this recipe must have Southern origins, but I like to think that I added a bit of southwestern flair to it. Hey, you have to represent local pride somehow. Anyway, I added chiles and Parmesan cheese to the mix, but as I said above, cornbread is forgiving enough to add pretty much anything to.

I also may have forgotten to stir the corn into the mix, accidentally making it a topping. I ended up liking the result, but by all means, stir into the batter before baking. 

Ingredients

6 thick-cut bacon slices

1 cup medium-grind cornmeal

1  cup all purpose flour

2 tablespoons golden brown sugar

1 tablespoon baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

1 1/3 cups whole milk

2 large eggs

2 tablespoons honey or agave syrup

2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

1 cup frozen corn kernels (unthawed)

Optional: 1 cup freshly grated Parmesan, 2 jalapeno chiles (sliced)

Method

Preheat oven to 350°F.

The batter prior to baking.

Cook bacon in large skillet over medium heat until crisp. Drain on paper towels. Reserve 2 tablespoons drippings from skillet.

Crumble bacon into small pieces.

Coat 12-inch diameter ovenproof skillet (I used the same as I fried the bacon in. It makes it an easy one-dish preparation) with bacon drippings.

Whisk cornmeal and next 4 ingredients in large bowl. Whisk milk, eggs, honey, and butter in medium bowl. Stir milk mixture into dry ingredients.

Mix in corn (or reserve to place on top), cheese, and chiles. 

Place prepared skillet in oven until very hot, about 10 minutes. Pour batter into skillet.

Sprinkle bacon (and corn, if using) over.

Bake cornbread until golden and tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 40 minutes.

Cool in skillet at least 30 minutes.

Honeyed Prawns, Sausage and Polenta (Faux Shrimp and Grits)

If you've ever been to the South (yes, with a capital S), then more likely than not you've heard of the wonder that is shrimp n' grits. Like most of their cuisine, it's based on simple hearty flavors....with lots of butter. No no, that's not doing it justice (not being from the South myself). There's such a richness of tradition in southern cooking that it's hard for a poor non-southerner like myself to describe it accurately. Many of its iconic dishes are based on what used to be the food of the poor- what was left over or what could be acquired cheaply. Grits, rice and beans, ham, collard greens, all these things started out as what you could make easily and cheaply. No longer. Give those people a few hundred years and you get one of the best (and perhaps most definitive) cuisines of the US.

For me, nothing represents the best of Southern cooking like shrimp and grits. Ostensibly simple, it involves a base of grits (for an explanation on this, see earlier posts lamenting its absence in England), topped with a hearty portion of shrimp/prawns and sausage cooked in a special blend of seasonings. The dish is one of my all time favorites. But alas, re-creating it authentically over in England is a bit far-fetched. So I resorted to the usual grits substitute: polenta and worked with what I had in terms of sausage (hunter's sausage in this case) and shrimp (all I could find were the tiniest little things I had ever seen). If I ever make this recipe again (more than likely), I would search high and low to find sizable prawns, the tiny things I could find did not do the trick. Regardless though, it was absolutely delicious and still had a tinge of the authentic to it. The sweet currants in the polenta with the spicy/savory sauce for the protein were a great combination. A great twist on the old Southern standby.

Ingredients
For the prawn/sausage marinade:
4 tablespoons tomato paste
3 tablespoons honey
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons hot sauce
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
Sea salt
1 pound large, peeled, and deveined prawns
2 links, hunter's sausage, sliced thinly

For the polenta:
1 cup polenta
1 1/4 cups (10 ounces) corn kernels, fresh or frozen
1/4 cup currants
1 tablespoon honey
1 tablespoon butter
1 teaspoon fresh thyme, or 1/2 teaspoon dried
Sea salt
Black pepper

For the topping:
1/3 cup feta cheese, crumbled
2 to 3 tablespoons fresh parsley, finely chopped
2 tablespoons capers
Hot sauce (optional)


Method

1. Preheat the oven to 400°F (204°C). Butter an 8 x 10-inch (20.3 x 25.4 cm) baking dish. Oil a rimmed baking sheet with olive oil. Set the pans aside.

2. To make the marinade: Combine the tomato paste, honey, lemon juice, olive oil, hot sauce, garlic powder, and a pinch or two of salt in a medium bowl. Toss the prawns and sausage with the marinade. Set the bowl aside, giving it a stir every few minutes.

3. For the polenta: Bring 3 cups cold water to a boil in a medium stainless-steel pot. Add the polenta. Cook seven minutes, stirring often. Remove the pot from the heat, cover, and let sit for 10 minutes.
4. In a large bowl, mix the corn (completely thawed if frozen), currants, honey, butter, and thyme. Stir in the polenta, and season with salt and pepper to taste.

5. Add polenta mixture to the buttered baking dish. Spread evenly with a spatula, and place in the oven to bake for 35 minutes.

6. Spread the prawn/sausage mixture evenly onto the oiled baking sheet. After the polenta has baked for 25 minutes, add the prawns to the oven, alongside the polenta. Place both pans on same rack if possible; otherwise, place the baking sheet on the lower rack.

7. Bake the prawns for five minutes. Remove the baking sheet from the oven, and flip all of the prawns over. Return to the oven and bake an additional five minutes, until the polenta is slightly browned and the prawns are pink and firm.

8. Remove the prawns and the polenta from the oven. To serve, scoop individual servings of the polenta onto plates. Lay a few prawns over each serving, then top with crumbled feta, fresh parsley, and capers. Drizzle with a few lashings of hot sauce, if desired.

Tortellini Gratinata with Mushrooms and Parsnip "Bechamel"

Baked pasta. Pasta casserole. Hot dish. All things I associate inherently with America. I swear, within each American there's some pale distant memory of a potluck at which either your mother or your neighbor's mother insisted on bringing her "world famous" tuna noodle casserole. Or baked pasta. Or...well, you get the idea. I'm fairly sure this memory never took place in reality; however, the fact that I spent my formative years in the MidWest makes the likelihood of the above even more plausible. Nothing says comfort food like some baked pasta.

Which is why, when my mother smuggled me an American copy of this month's "Bon Appetit" magazine and I saw they were doing an entire feature on the glorious American dish, I had to dust off my Midwestern genes (and jeans) and get to cooking. The promise of a faux parsnip "bechamel" sauce got me on this one. I had no idea what they were talking about but it turned out that the parsnips replaced the flour in the bechamel, keeping the thick consistency of the sauce but giving it an earthier if still starchy flavor. It was a win all around.

I also recommend getting bold with your tortellini in this recipe. The magazine called for either plain or cheese tortellini. Bah! I went with some sort of wild mushroom and stuffed sausage tortellini and in my opinion (humble as it may be), it made what can be a very bland dish (hey, we are talking about baked pasta here) into something with a little more subtlety. 

Ingredients
2 large parsnips, peeled, cut into 1/2-inch-thick rounds
2 1/2 cups whole milk, divided
1 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, divided
large pinch of grated nutmeg
4 1/2 tbsp butter, divided
1 1/2 lbs baby portobello mushrooms, or chestnut mushrooms, thinly sliced
2 large garlic cloves, finely chopped
2 tsp. minced fresh rosemary
2 packages tortellini (of whatever kind, should be around 18-24 oz.)
6 oz. creamy Gorgonzola cheese, cut into small pieces
1 cup chorizo sausage, cut into small pieces

Method
Cook parsnips in a medium saucepan of boiling salted water until very tender, about 20 minutes. Drain. Place parsnips in same saucepan along with 1 1/2 cups of milk. With an immersion blender, blend until smooth. Add 1 cup of milk, 3/4 cup Parmesan cheese, and nutmeg to saucepan. Blend again.

Place saucepan over heat again and simmer until reduced to about 3 cups, whisking often, about every 5 minutes. Season bechamel sauce to taste with salt and black pepper.

Melt 2 1/2 tbsp. butter in heavy large skillet over medium-high heat. Add mushrooms, garlic, and rosemary. Saute until mushrooms are brown and tender, 6-7 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Preheat oven to 400F. Butter a 12-cup capacity baking dish. Cook pasta in large pot of boiling salted water until just tender but still firm to bite. Drain pasta, return to pot. Add remaining 2 tbsp of butter and toss to coat.

Stir in mushroom mixture and cut chorizo. Transfer pasta to prepared baking dish. Spread bechamel sauce over; sprinkle with Gorgonzola, then remaining 1/4 cup Parmesan.

Bake pasta until heated through and sauce is bubbling, 18-20 minutes. Let stand 10 minutes and serve.