sprinklefingers

My kid is just a few weeks into his fifth year and already it’s different than four. As if someone flipped a switch, his already amazing brain kind of exploded and became even more amazing. He’s tuned in. He’s thoughtful. He’s full of love. And most of all - most of all - he gets me. 

I have favorite parts of every day with him - waking him up in the morning and seeing his bedhead. Sitting him down for breakfast and listening to him talk about his plans for the day. Seeing his reaction when there’s a pile of buttermilk biscuits (or chicken satay or chicken soup or fruit salad) on the dinner table. But lately my favorite part of each day is reading to him before bed.

You see, he’s become completely obsessed with Edna Lewis. At first I know he was feigning interest just to placate me. I’d gush on about her and her thoughts on food and her amazing recipes and he’d nod and smile. But then I found this book and he went from pretending to be interested to being obsessed. We have read Bring Me Some Apples and I’ll Make You a Pie nightly for weeks straight - he loves the seasonal approach - he loves the sing-songy rhymes - he loves the idea of spending the summer stocking the larder - he loves the recipes. 

He thought we should share one of Edna’s recipes with you. Corn Pudding is, hands down, his ‘most favorite food in the whole world’. And, in fact, he loves it all the way to Pluto and back (a journey, he’d like to remind you, that would take 10 years…so that’s a lot of love.)

This dish is rich. And filling. And packed with full-fat dairy. I wouldn’t make any alterations to the ingredients if I were you. Instead, I’d enjoy a smaller portion and savor the good stuff. 

Corn Pudding
Inspired by Edna Lewis
From the recipes found in Bring Me Some Apples and I’ll Make You a Pie by Robbin Gourley.

Serves 8

Notes: Of course it’s not corn season. But that’s okay. We’ve found that you can make the pudding with frozen corn and the results are definitely acceptable. Using fresh corn cut from the cob results in a kernel that melts into the pudding a bit more than does the frozen, and both ways are delicious.

The recipe includes freshly grated nutmeg, and you really shouldn’t leave it out. It adds so much dimension to the finished dish.

You need:

• 3 T unsalted butter, melted - plus more for buttering your cooking vessel 
• 2 heaping cups best quality frozen corn - or 4 ears worth of corn cut from the cob
• 1/4 cup sugar
• 1 t kosher salt
• 2 large eggs (use pastured or farm eggs if you can find them)
• 2 cups whole milk
• 2 dashes of cayenne pepper
• 1/2 - 3/4 t freshly grated nutmeg
• 2 T cornmeal 

Make the Corn Pudding:

1. Preheat oven to 350 and butter a 1.5 qt ceramic baking dish.
2. In a medium sized mixing bowl, combine the corn with the sugar and salt and stir well. Set aside
3. In a separate bowl, whisk the eggs until the yolks are fully combined with the whites then (while whisking) add the milk in a slow stream. 
4. To the milk and eggs, add the melted butter, cayenne pepper and nutmeg then whisk until combined.
5. Add the liquid to the corn/sugar and stir until combined.
6. Scatter the 2 T of cornmeal on the bottom of your baking vessel then gently pour in the corn pudding.
7. Find a roasting pan larger than the dish the corn pudding is in and place the corn pudding inside. Fill the roasting pan with water until it reaches about 3/4 of the way up the sides of the corn pudding dish.
8. Pop the whole thing in the oven and bake for 1 hour or until set and golden brown.
9. Let cool for 5-10 minutes before serving.

We like corn pudding with just about anything. Most recently we had it with braised red cabbage, sausages and roasted kale. In the summer I dream of eating big bowls of it with fresh garden tomatoes on the side. Of course it’s a dream because no one should really eat big bowls of this stuff - a small serving is all it takes to experience the deliciousness. [I cannot believe I just said that. But, alas, it’s true.]

Time Magazine’s Josh Ozersky takes on foodie kids - and explains how getting kids into the kitchen might be the best way to get them to enjoy more than chicken nuggets.

AMEN.

click on the quote to head to the article…

Cooking is better for kids than eating; it makes them aware of how much work goes into making something good to eat, and it will inevitably give them standards that will make junk food look bad. (Delicious, yes, but bad – or at least, recognizable as junk food, rather than, “food,” which is what it is for many kids.) It’s also a kind of emergency home economics for an era when few households have an adult at their disposal full time…Who knows? Once these kids learn to cook, maybe they’ll become good eaters too, and skip being “foodies” entirely.

Back in November of ‘09 The New Yorker ran a piece by Adam Gopnik about a/our/his/my love of cookbooks. It’s a fantastic piece of writing and does an excellent job of breaking down the equation of our love of cookbooks divided by the recipes multiplied by our actual ability to cook and then equalling the fact that recipes in books aren’t the food itself. There’s a major gap between the recipe and the end result - and the way Gopnik describes it is certainly worth reading…In fact, I insist you read it!

Here’s the paragraph that really made an impact on me:

Handed-down wisdom and worked-up information remain the double piers of a cook’s life. The recipe book always contains two things: news of how something is made, and assurance that there’s a way to make it, with the implicit belief that if I know how it is done I can show you how to do it. The premise of the recipe book is that these two things are naturally balanced; the secret of the recipe book is that they’re not. The space between learning the facts about how something is done and learning how to do it always turns out to be large, at times immense. What kids make depends on what moms know: skills, implicit knowledge, inherited craft, buried assumptions, finger know-how that no recipe can sum up. The recipe is a blueprint but also a red herring, a way to do something and a false summing up of a living process that can be handed on only by experience, a knack posing as a knowledge. We say “What’s the recipe?” when we mean “How do you do it?” And though we want the answer to be “Like this!” the honest answer is “Be me!” “What’s the recipe?” you ask the weary pro chef, and he gives you a weary-pro-chef look, since the recipe is the totality of the activity, the real work. The recipe is to spend your life cooking.

I really think this is fascinating stuff - especially when he pulls in the added layer of kids - he says, “what kids make depends on what moms know.” It’s true, isn’t it? I can pretend all I want that my own kid is developing his own sense of taste and his own love of creating food - but at the end of the day I know I’m the one making cooking fun for him. I’m the person who is developing his sense of self in the kitchen. And while we look at cookbooks (and sometimes read them as bedtime stories) often, no recipe can do what our time in the kitchen together can. The recipe is to spend your life cooking.

Fascinating indeed.

I had completely forgotten about popcorn. 

Two weeks ago I was sorting through some of the (limitless) stuff in my office (the majority of it cooking/catering related) I found a never-before-opened-new-in-the-box popcorn maker! I had apparently purchased it, tucked it away and promptly forgotten about it. The receipt craftily tapped to the top of the box told me that I had done so approximately three (!!) years ago. What the?

Anyways, I busted the machine out of the box and noted that it wasn’t an air popper (honestly, it was like I had never seen the thing before. I literally have zero recollection of buying it,) but instead it’s the type that you pour a spot of oil into a pan and then add the popping corn and then a tiny arm stirs it all up and then it starts popping. (Yes, I realize I’m describing this device as if popcorn making is a second language. But to tell you the truth to me it kind of is.)

I went out immediately and bought popping corn. Then I came home and the kid and I made popcorn. I have to admit, making popcorn (not in the microwave!) with a kid is pretty satisfying. He told me himself that no matter how many times he sees popcorn pop open from a kernel to a fluffy cloud of yummy (his words, for real), he’ll never get tired of it. “It’s just like watching magic happen. Right in your face,” he said.

Since our first batch we’ve made a lot of popcorn. This past weekend we hosted a birthday dinner party for a dear friend of ours and the kid was on hors d’oeuvres duty. I told him he could think up any pre-dinner snacks he’d like and we’d make them together. His choices? Toasted brioche, peanut butter smeared on crackers topped with salt and (of course) popcorn. “But we’ve got to fancy-it-up a little bit mom. Let’s make it special.”

To me, nothing says fancy like truffle oil and good salt. So, armed with our popcorn popper, a bottle of oil and a bowl of salt, we produced the most delicious batch of fancy pants popcorn you could ever imagine. Rich and earthy because of the special oil and salty because we broke out our stash of fancy red clay salt from the land of Hawaii. See, fancy! I told you!

Truffle Oil Popcorn with Sea Salt
makes 6 quarts popped

You need:

• a device for popping corn - machine, stovetop, whatever.
• 2 large bowls
• 2/3 cup popping corn
• truffle oil (a small bottle will last you forever and you will be beside yourself with joy when you start adding truffle oil to your favorite foods.)
• fine sea salt

To make the popcorn:

1. Following the instructions for your particular machine (or on the stovetop in the smallest amount of oil,) pop the 2/3 cup of popcorn.
2. Once the popcorn is popped, divide it between the two large bowls and sprinkle each bowl of ‘corn with a small amount of truffle oil. Then sprinkle it with sea salt to taste. 
3. Dig in to the first bowl with your hands and lightly toss the popcorn over and over and over until the truffle oil is evenly dispersed. Repeat with second bowl. Taste. If either bowl needs more oil or salt, add it now.
4. Invert one bowl of popcorn over the other so that the popcorn slides in to one bowl. Next, place the empty bowl on top of the first bowl to make a lid. Gently shake the popcorn within the two bowls to ensure that the oil is distributed - that way each and every bite will be truffley and salty. Divine! 

Of course there are one million and one ways to fancy-up popcorn. From nutritional yeast to cinnamon ‘n sugar, the possibilities are seriously endless. But for now we’re sticking with fancy pants truffle oil popcorn because it goes so well with our two favorite beverages: apple juice (the kid) and champagne (me). Delicious.

this week i posted a great essay by mark bittman in which he describes his journey to the helm of the stove. he has some great insights and i fell even deeper under his spell after reading it.

my internet friend ronnie fein was also touched by bittman’s essay and had this to say about it:

This is a beautiful article. There were two points that seemed especially relevant to me.

First, that Mom doesn’t have to teach you how to cook. Just lead by example, and the kids will catch on if they’re interested. 

 Second, that cooking, along with child rearing, can give you “a sense of competence that I’d never had before.”

Bravo Bittman.  Your authenticity is a standout.

i couldn’t have said it better myself, ronnie.

and then this morning, while enjoying my first cup of coffee while the house is still quiet, i came across this piece about the man i want to be friends with - hugh fearnley-whittingstall. it’s a description of his version of a ‘take your kids to work’ day - and it’s just so perfect. he actually gives up the reins of his column to his children. who are 14, 12 and 8.

my favorite bit:

So when I invite the children to take over my column, saying they can each suggest a recipe and that I’ll stick with whatever they choose, a glint appears in their eyes. “Rabbit brains on toast,” says Oscar, 12. “Squirrels’ testicles dipped in chocolate,” says Freddie, eight. “Try to be original,” says my wife. “That’s the kind of thing he usually does.”

and then they all stop laughing and the kids come up with some pretty good ideas for their dishes. and hugh puts them in the column.

i just love it.

and speaking of involving kids in work, my kid is four yet he’s been involved in the opening of our new bakery every step of the way. he has contributed names for two menu items, wrote the slogan we’re having printed on the back of our staff t-shirts AND has tasted every single item on the new menu. when he says he doesn’t ‘care for’ something (yes, he really does use that phrase,) i seriously consider it and usually head back into the test kitchen for more adjustments.

even at four he takes all of this to heart. you can see how proud he is when i tell him that we’ve been working on the t-shirt design or that i made a batch of ‘bonbonbunbuns’ that afternoon. he’s fully invested in the project.

and we did it by actually involving him. almost like magic.