Homemade Cotton Candy

Cotton Candy is not just for carnivals anymore. In fact, turns out, it's becoming downright fashionable. According to this Boston Globe article, this early 20th century treat is getting a gourmet spin (spin, get it? spin?) in preparations like the $16 cotton candy drink at LA's restaurant Bazaar, to chef Lydia Shire's experiments with flavoring at her Boston restaurant Towne.

In my last post we talked about a newly released book on working with sugar by Gesine Bullock-Prado, called Sugarbaby. After being sent a review copy, I immediately fell for Bullock-Prado's witty recipe head notes. I also mentioned that the book takes you through the several stages of cooking sugar, providing recipes for each stage. For more on the book, see that first post. Because today, we're going to talk about the hard-crack stage and, yes, making home made cotton candy. As in cotton candy at home, without a machine.

The book is divided into sections according to the stage of sugar with which it is dealing. And each section begins with a description of what you can expect to see, hear and smell at that particular stage. For the stage at which you can make cotton candy, the sugar and corn syrup is pretty much as hot as you're going to get with sugar. So, umm, be careful. Bullock-Prado says that if you were to drop a bit of the syrup into cold water at this stage is would produce "rock-hard, crackling threads that break easily". But since you're going to be using a candy thermometer (a piece of equipment that's pretty much indispensable for this kind of project) you won't have to worry about actually testing it.

So home made cotton candy without a machine. First off, let me be clear that this is NOT the light and fluffy cotton candy that you need a several thousand dollar piece of specialized equipment to achieve. This is essentially spun sugar curled around a stick. But if you get your technique down, you can manage some pretty fine threads of spun sugar. It just takes some practice, which is something I could use more of when it comes to this recipe.

Instead of a machine, you're going to use what Bullock-Prado calls a "decapitated whisk", which is simply the least expensive whisk you can find, with the tines snipped at the top by a wire-cutter. So instead of a balloon shape, you'll have what R called "whiskers". You should bend the 'whiskers' out a little so they're further apart than they appear in the picture. That should help prevent them from clumping and sticking together. Here's a photo:

My first stick of cotton candy was abysmal because I held the whisk too close to the parchment paper (1 foot away is recommended) and I didn't swing it back and forth fast enough to really get thin strands. In fact, I'm not sure I ever reach optimal swinging speed, and I'd be more conscious of the need for quickness next time. But really, you do need to hold the whisk well above the table.

Another tip I found to help, which Bullock-Prado doesn't mention, is that you shouldn't wait until you have enough spun sugar for a completed cotton candy. Rather, fling some sugar around, then wrap it around your stick quickly before it cools and prop the stick up in a class container. Fling some more sugar around, and add another layer. Repeat until you're happy with the size and look of your cotton candy. If you try to wait to roll it just once, in my experience, the sugar will harden too much and be difficult to roll.

Also, be sure to let the sugar drip back into the bowl for a moment before you start flinging, in order to avoid glops of sugar (you'll notice some of my glops in the pictures, but trust me, my earlier attempts were much gloppier).

Again, I want to warn you that this is not going to be the light and fluffy cotton candy that you really do need a machine to get. So don't come back and complain about that, because you've been warned. But it is a really fun project, and definitely something different to attempt. Plus, it will help you hone your spun sugar skills so that if you ever have to decorate a French croquembouche, you'll be all set!

UPDATE: I should have been aware of this, but there is a companion site to the book where you can find all sorts of additional photos, tips and tricks. That Gesine really looks out for us! Here's the post on cotton candy. I'll also add that I flavored my cotton candy with about 4 teaspoons of crème de cassis because I have a bottle lying around that I want to use up. That's in part what gave mine that golden hue, but it's also a result of my overcooking the sugar just a bit. Be sure to check out Gesine's blog post about trouble shooting cotton candy for how to prevent that.

Homemade Cotton Candy
Excerpted (with permission) from Sugarbaby by Gesine Bullock-Prado, 2011. Stewart, Tabori & Chang

Makes 8 cotton candies

Sugar 800 grams/4 cups
Corn syrup 240 ml/1 cup
Water 40 m/1 cup
Salt 1.5 grams/1/4 teaspoon
Raspberry extract (0r any flavor you like) 5 ml/1 teaspoon
pink (or any other color) food coloring (optional) 2 drops
'decapitated whisk'

1. In a large, heavy saucepan over medium heat, combine the sugar, corn syrup, water and salt. Stir until the sugar is melted. With a damp pastry brush, wipe down the sides of the pan to prevent stray sugar crystals from forming.

2. Clip on a candy thermometer, stop stirring, and heat to 320F (160C). Pour the molten liquid into a shallow heatproof container. Add the extract and food coloring (if using) and stir well.

3. Line your work table with parchment. I also spread parchment on the floor around the table to catch any stray bits of flying sugar.

4. Dip your decapitated whisk into the sugar syrup and hold it over the pot to let the sugar drip back into the container for a second. Holding the whisk a foot (30 cm) above the parchment, swing the whisk back and forth so that thin strands of sugar fall on the paper. Repeat this a few more times until you have a nice nest of spun sugar.

5. Immediately wrap the cotton candy around large lollipop sticks (if you wait too long, the sugar will become brittle and won't bend around the stick). Eat immediately or seal in air-tight containers - any moisture will make the cotton candy soggy.

Champagne Gelées

Are you the type of person who reads cookbooks in bed? You know, when you should be reading novels? Be honest, do you have a stack of them on your night table? Oh, uh, me either... Okay, yes I do. I do. I read them live novels, fantasize about their pictures, read all the recipe headings. I know for a fact I'm not the only one, because I've heard of other people on the interwebs doing the same thing. Granted, I've never met one of these people in real life, but that's the beauty of the internet. Brings us together. So my latest bed-side read is Sugarbaby, by Gesine Bullock-Prado. In the headnote for her luscious-looking Bitterwseet Pudding Pops, Bullock-Prado admits that when she babysat, she didn't do it for the money, but for the food. She claims to have gotten "the little stinkers to bed by reading bedtime stories so fast you could hear a sonic boom, and then [she'd] eat that poor family out of house and home." Myself? I was never so brazen. I ate just a little, but of everything.

So I'll be upfront right now that I was sent this book as a review copy. But after thumbing through it and falling in love with Bullock-Prado's anecdotes, I bought her first book, a novel with recipes, called Confections of a Closet Master Baker for a plane ride. So, the book. It's all about sugar (shocking, given its title). And sugar can be intimidating stuff. It burns, it hardens, it bubbles and sputters. It requires measuring, sometimes. And sometimes, constant watching. But, I mean, you're going to be undertaking these projects with a woman who cops to ravaging her neighbors' pantry without shame.

The book takes you through the several stages of sugar, from the simple dissolve to the thread stage, through the soft- firm- and hard-ball stages, and on to the soft- and hard-crack stages. (Now, those are fancy-sounding terms. Good to get them demystified.) There are recipes for each stage along the way, like homemade Sugar daddies from the soft-crack stage taffy from the firm-ball stage. True, many of the recipes require a candy thermometer, but I've never regretted buying mine, as they come in handier than you might think.

For our foray into the book, I chose two recipes, one simple and one slightly less simple. Let's start easy. I made these Champagne Gelées, or as Bullock-Prado calls them, G's Gelée Shots, for that same Mother's Day lunch I've been prattling on about. I wanted something light after a big meal, but springy, and festive without being a huge project since I wasn't cooking in my kitchen. What could possibly fit the bill better than fresh spring berries suspended in a gelée made from champagne? Nothing, that's what. (And we all know what a nut I am over gelées.) If you don't have or don't want to use champagne, Bullock-Prado suggests hard apple cider. But for Mothers Day? Champagne is the way to go. Remember, the alcohol is not cooked out of this dessert, so no giving it to children. That's why she calls them 'shots'.

UPDATE: There is also a companion site to the book, where the author offers further photos, tips and tricks to go along with the recipes!

G's Gelée Shots
Excerpted (with permission) from Sugarbaby by Gesine Bullock-Prado, 2011. Stewart, Tabori & Chang

2 cups (480 ml) champagne
1/2 cup (100 g) sugar
1 packet (7 g) unflavored gelatin
Fresh berries or other fruits, to taste

1. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, combine 1 1/2 cups (360 ml) of the champagne and the sugar. Allow to simmer until the sugar has completely dissolved.

2. Pour the remaining champagne into a small bowl and sprinkle the gelatin evenly over the liquid. Allow the gelatin to bloom, which usually takes about 1 minute. It should look soggy.

3. Remove the champagne mixture from the heat, scrape the gelatin mixture into the still-hot champagne, and stir until the gelatin has completely melted.

4. Pour the liquid gelée mixture into a 6-cup (48 oz) gelatin mold or divide evenly into 8-ounce ramekins and tap the ramekins firmly on a tabletop to release any air bubbles.

5. If you are planning on suspending anything in your gelée such as heavy fruit or fruit gummis, fill the gelatin mold or each ramekin half-way and allow to set in the refrigerator; this will take up to 1 hour. Leave the remaining gelatin at room temperature. If it solidifies, gently reheat over low heat until it becomes fluid, then cool completely (otherwise, it will melt the set gelatin when you pour it over the first layer). Place your desired ingredient(s) on top of the set gelée, pour the unset gelatin evenly over the suspended ingredient(s), and refrigerate until the second layer is set. If you wish to add something light, such as small berries, fill the dish or the ramekins halfway and add the ingredient(s) - they'll float to the top. Refrigerate until the gelée is set, then fill with the remaining mixture and refrigerate overnight.

* A Note from the Sugar Baby: I have one warning for you: Do not add fresh pineapple, kiwi, figs, guava, papaya, passion fruit or ginger root to the gelée. All of these otherwise wonderful things contain the enzyme bromelain, which will break down the gelatin and turn the gelée runny. Cooking those fruits to 158F (70C) deactivates the bromelain, so canned pineapple and most commercial purées should be okay, since they are typically heat-pasteurized.

Radish and Grape Salad with Goat Cheese Croutons

My last post introduced you to the amazingly delicious Seven-Hour Goat Leg by way of Bruce Weinstein and Mark Scarbrough's new book Goat: Meat, Milk, Cheese. We took a field trip down to Chinatown to find our leg, then we spent some quality time sitting by the oven, spooning pan juices over the roasting meat. It's a good thing that Goat is such a pleasure to read, with quips and stories and irreverence. Because you might need reading material for such an undertaking. You'll get a sense of that, since I'm excerpting a couple of recipes from the book for this two-part review, straight from the author's pen.

Before we go on, I have to admit that I really want to make Weinstein and Scarbrough's Goat Cheese Fondue, made with my beloved brunost to which I was introduced by my Norwegian husband the first time we visited his family in the Old Country (ha). But the opportunity hasn't arisen yet for a fondue party, although I'm keeping this one in my back pocket for when it inevitably does (can we consider fondue parties to be inevitable?). I mention it to give you an idea of the variety of recipes in the book. Meat, as with that last post, things like muffins, danishes, breads and soups made with goat's milk and yogurt. And blintzes, a cheesecake, even truffles made with goat cheese.

I made this salad to go alongside a spring Mother's Day lunch. With radish, grapes, peppery arugula and a delicious dressing that has convinced my mom to toss her bottles and start making her own. But the real star, of course, is the goat cheese. And although I normally don't mess with a recipe when I'm reviewing a book, I will admit to you that I added a touch of honey to the bread before the smear of goat cheese. Because for some reason, in my experience, honey and herbed goat cheese luv each other. And speaking of messing around with a recipe, this one also didn't call for herbed goat cheese, but it was all I could find at this particular supermarket in Connecticut. I'd use it again.

Radish and Grape Salad with Goat Cheese Croutons
Excerpted (with Permission) from Bruce Weinstein and Mark Scarbrough's Goat: Meat, Milk, Cheese, 2011, Stewart, Tabori & Chang

It'll make four servings for lunch or up to eight for a light first course

1 medium carrot
10 red radishes, thinly sliced
1 cup (225 g) seedless red grapes, halved
2 cups (455 g) baby arugula
Eight 1/2-inch-thick (eight 1.2 cm) bread rounds, sliced from a thin baguette
4 ounces (115 g) fresh chèvre or soft goat cheese
3 tablespoons sherry or red wine vinegar
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
1 medium garlic clove, minced or even put through a garlic press
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup (120 ml) olive oil

1. To make fancy-schmancy carrot curls, first fill a bowl with cold water and add a generous amount of ice cubes. Peel the carrot with a vegetable peeler, then continue making long, paper-thin trips along the length of the carrot, letting these fall into the ice water. If the strips are thin enough, they'll curl when they take a swim, somewhat like your toes in ice water.

2. Drain the carrot curls and put them in a big serving bowl. Add the radish slices, grape halves, and arugula leaves. Toss a bit to mix everything up.

3. Position the rack so that it's 4 to 6 inches (10 to 15 cm) from the broiler's heat source, then preheat the broiler. Lay the baguette rounds on a large baking sheet. Smear them with the soft goat cheese. Set the tray directly under the heat source and broil until the cheese has melted a bit and even turned a little light brown in places. Remove the baking tray from the oven and transfer the goat cheese croutons to a wire rack to cool while you make the dressing.

4. Whisk the vinegar, mustard, garlic, salt and pepper in a medium bowl until the mustard has dissolved in the vinegar. Drizzle in the olive oil, whisking all the while, to make a thin but still creamy dressing.

5. Pour this dressing over the arugula mixture, then toss a bit. Spoon the salad onto serving plates and top each with 2 goat cheese croutons.

The Seven-Hour Leg of Goat

Sometimes I think Americans can be a bit...behind. I mean, we have almost no interest in soccer, which it seems the rest of the world finds to be the single best sport ever. Our fashion sense can be a little unique, and I've heard that our cell phones are children's toys compared to what some other countries have. And we don't really eat all that much goat. Which, it turns out, is the most widely eaten meat on the planet. It's time to catch up. So when I was asked if I'd like to review the latest book from Bruce Weinstein and Mark Scarbrough (let's not forget that last year the couple gave us what I am sure is the only Easter ham I will ever need), I think my answer was obvious. So let's talk goat meat.

Although goat cheese, as the pair says, has morphed from a "gag-me no-no in the Mad Men sixties to the full-on cliché it is today," goat's meat is not so easily found. It may be the world's primary meat, with almost 70 percent of the red meat eaten on this planet coming from from those bearded little creatures, but you'd never know it in the US. Weinstein and Scarbrough urge us to consider India, Thailand, China, Bali, Nigeria, Kenya, Jordan, Saudi Arabia, Israel, * takes deep breath in* Mexico, Costa Rica, Barbados, and Brazil. The pair also point out that goat has largely escaped the kinds of mass production that is ruining other sources of meat (see Mark Bittman, Michael Pollan and Eric Schlosser on this point). And, as if this animal weren't magical enough (cue Simpson's clip), it has fewer calories, less fat (both normal and saturated) and less cholesterol than chicken, beef, pork or lamb (all of this according to the book).

Okay, so now that we're convinced about at least giving goat meat a shot, there's the problem of finding it. Even in NYC, this isn't as easy as a trip to the local supermarket. Weinstein and Scarbrough provide a list of sources in the book, many of which offer mail order, and one of which is even located in Brooklyn. But I was getting a little antsy and didn't want to wait around for the mail, especially because I don't have a doorman and didn't want to risk goat-theft. So Chinatown it was. And on the recommendation of someone who really knows where to shop in Chinatown, I found my leg of goat at a market called Deluxe Food Market, which is on Mott Street between Hester and Grand.

So armed with a goat-leg, I picked The Seven-Hour Leg because it sounded obsessive, which is kind of what this project is all about. It's a French technique call gigot de sept heures and although Weinstein and Scarbrough claim that only French grandmothers have the kind of time necessary to sit around basting a goat leg for seven hours, it turns out that American grad students do too.

The Seven-Hour Leg
Excerpted (with Permission) from Bruce Weinstein and Mark Scarbrough's Goat: Meat, Milk, Cheese, 2011, Stewart, Tabori & Chang

3 tablespoons olive oil
One 4-pound (1.8 g) leg of goat
2 whole garlic heads, the cloves not peeled but broken up from the bulb and the core/stem discarded
1 tablespoon minced fresh rosemary leaves
1 tablespoons minced fresh sage leaves
1 tablespoons fresh thyme leaves
4 bay leaves
2 cups (480 ml) dry white whine or dry vermouth
2 cups (480 ml) reduced-sodium chicken broth
1 tablespoon goat butter, optional

1. Get the rack set in the center of the oven and warm the oven up to 300F (150C)

2. Set a large, serious, flame-safe, no-holds-barred roasting pan over medium-high heat on top of the stove. Let that pan get good and hot, then swirl in the oil. Add the leg and brown it all over, holding it up so that even its narrow, thin sides sear against the hot pan. One warning: You'll splatter everything. Plan ahead and have children to clean up the mess. (Thus, you may need to start the recipe years earlier. Call it the fourteen-year leg.)

3. Transfer the leg to a carving board, drop the heat under the pan to medium, and toss in the garlic and all the herbs. Stir them around for a few seconds. then pour in the wine and broth. Whoosh! Scrape up any browned bits in the roasting pan as the liquid boils.

4. Set the leg back in the pan. A goat leg is not rounded; instead, it has two meaty sides. You'll want to roast it with the meatier side facing up. Cover the pan tightly with aluminum foil. Place it in the oven and bake for 3 1/2 hours, basting occasionally. This is a tricky bit: uncovering, basting, re-covering. It's probably why this dish is such a classic: Only French grandmothers have this much time on their hands. Of course, they do because of their 35-hour work weeks and universal health care and state-backed pensions and...Sorry. Just make sure the foil is sealed tight after each basting.

5. Uncover the roasting pan and drop the oven's temperature to 275F (135C). Continue roasting for 3 1/2 more hours, basting occasionally, making sure that the leg stays moist. Baste more now than you did before, because the thing is uncovered. At the end of it all, that leg will almost be confit: tender, meltingly sweet, crazy-delicious, and perfect. Transfer the leg back to the carving board. The task of carving this thing isn't that big a deal, since it will basically fall apart into chunks and pieces. You can slice these down into more manageable bits.

6. Finally, if you like, swirl the butter into the very small amount of pan juices left in the hot pan, to make a simple sauce. Bruce things this excessive. (Cooking a goat leg for 7 hours isn't?) I think of butter as a beverage. In any event, remove the bay leaves before serving the sauce.

Mashed Potato with a Mixed Vegetable Topping

I mentioned in my last post about Trina Hahnamann's beautiful new book The Nordic Diet, that I'd used the book to make a mother's day dinner for my mom and my Nana. I'm going to get back to the book again, but let me tell you a little something about my Nana. She's a self-proclaimed picky-eater. She had, before Mother's Day, never eaten a beet. I don't think she'd ever celery root, and she's admitted herself to only recently agreeing to give certain vegetables a chance. I think this dish was a beautiful introduction to what is essentially mashed vegetables topped with more sautéed vegetables. And, I mean, who could resist that tumble of red beet, celery, leek and walnuts? Not Nana!

All of the ingredients for this potato mash, and all of the ingredients for that delicious Roasted Chicken with Rhubarb were easy to find. There are recipes for which that wouldn't be the case in an American grocery store. Things like gooseberries, and cloudberries, both so typically Norwegian. But most recipes are certainly doable, and I wouldn't have wanted her to leave things out that depend on typically Scandinavian ingredients. That's how we learn about them, after all.

So the mash. It's basically equal parts potato and celery root (if you haven't dealt much with celery root, you can see this post for some tips) boiled with garlic, peppercorns, salt and bay leaves, and then mashed with a bit of oil. Then comes the shower of sautéed vegetables. I think when most Americans think of beets, they think of the limp, pickled kind found on mid-grade salad bars. These are not those. These are wonderful, earthy but bright, vibrant and sautéed long enough to be cooked but not so long that they're mushy.

I served it as a side to that roasted chicken, but Hahnemann (a woman after my own heart, for sure) suggests that it can even hold its own as a vegetarian meal in itself, which, had it not been for a special occasion, is probably exactly what I would have done. If you're having trouble finding celery root (also called celeric, but I think celery root more commonly in the US) I think you could just substitute a potato. But the celeric is definitely worth seeking out, and I think you'll be surprised that the ugly little root has been sitting in your produce section all this time without garnering any notice.

Mashed Potato with a Mixed Vegetable Topping
Republished (with permission) from Trina Hahnemann's The Nordic Diet from Skyhorse Publishing

14 oz celerac, peeled and cut into cubes
14 oz potatoes, peeled and cut into large cubes
2 garlic cloves, chopped
1 tsp whole peppercorns
1 tbsp sea salt flakes
2 bay leaves
2 tbsp canola oil or olive oil

mixed vegetable topping

1 tbsp canola oil
1 garlic clove, chopped
7 oz raw beet, peeled and cut into very small cubes
2 celery stalks, minced
2 leeks, minced
1/2 cup walnuts, chopped
Salt and freshly ground pepper

To a large pot add the celeriac, potatoes, garlic, peppercorns, salt and bay leaves. Cover generously with water, bring to a boil, and then let simmer for 30 minutes.

While the vegetables are cooking, prepare the topping: Heat the oil in a sauté pan, add the garlic and beet, and cook gently for 5 minutes. Add the rest of the vegetables and the walnuts. Continue cooking for 5 minutes more. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Keep the sauce warm.

Drain the vegetables and place in a big bowl, discarding the bay leaves. Add the canola or olive oil and mash, mixing everything well together. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Serve the mash in a large bowl, topped with the mixed vegetables.

Chicken with Baked Rhubarb

It's no secret that I've been a bit obsessed with Scandinavian cooking in general, and Norwegian cooking in particular since marrying my very own Viking-descendent. Given the interest these days in returning to whole foods and the traditional cuisines of the Mediterranean and the Middle East, for example, Scandinavian food seems like it deserves a reassessment as well. So when a copy of Trina Hahnemann's new book The Nordic Diet arrived in the mail, I was both pleasantly surprised and squeeling-ly delighted. (You can use that word, if you want. Squeelingly.) First of all, it's beautifully photographed by Lars Ranek and just looks Scandinavian. If you have any interested at all in modern design, you know that to call something Scandinavian-looking is highest praise.



The book is billed as an approach to food through traditional Scandinavian cooking that rivals the health benefits of the more often touted Mediterranean cuisines, and Hahnemann's book begins with several pages of information on nutrition and weight loss. I have to say, in the interest of being true to this blog, that I tend not to go on about weight-losing because I'd rather focus on enjoying beautiful food for the pleasure of it, even if that food usually does end up being healthy. And the thing is, this is no diet cookbook because it's too creative, too beautiful and too delicious for a label that brings to mind uninspired flavors and deprivation. So.

I've actually cooked from the book quite a bit in the last few weeks, but made two recipes in particular for a Mother's day spent at my Nana's house in Connecticut with both my mother and my grandmother. I think the fact that the majority of our celebratory meal came from this book speaks to just how un-diety it really is. (I mean, I'm not about to serve sub-par food to my mom and my Nana.) How delicious the food turns out to be, how stunning in its colorful presentation, and yes, how incredibly healthy.

So I'll start with our main course, this Chicken Baked with Fresh Rhubarb. Three ingredients. Three. (We're not counting salt and pepper.) And it was one of the most delicious roast chickens I've ever had (no, I'm really serious about this, it is.) I mean, I might as well be Norwegian myself for how much I love rhubarb, but the sweet/tart vegetable (rhubarb is technically a vegetable, I think) permeates the chicken. And now is the perfect moment to put rhubarb to a savory use, since it's in season in the spring. Hahnemann calls for buying a whole chicken and cutting it up into 8 pieces. If you're unsure about doing this, I've posted a tutorial with pictures and instructions. I promise, it isn't actually all that hard. I think if you just really don't want to get involved with cutting up a whole chicken, you can go ahead and substitute chicken pieces already cut up.

Chicken with Baked Rhubarb
Republished (with permission) from Trina Hahnemann's The Nordic Diet from Skyhorse Publishing

1 organic or free-range chicken, cut into 8 pieces
Salt and freshly ground pepper
11 oz rhubarb
1/4 cup raw organic sugar

Preheat the oven to 400F. Put the chicken pieces in an ovenproof dish, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and roast in the preheated oven for 30 minutes.

Cut the rhubarb into pieces and mix it with the sugar in a bowl.

Take the chicken out of the oven, place the rhubarb under the chicken, put it back in the oven, and roast for 15 minutes more.

Fast and Easy Spanish Shrimp with Chorizo

So, my last post was a review of the Woman's Day Every Day Cookbook in which I gave you my new favorite vegetarian dish. I told you about the set-up of the book, organized around the months, and then further broken down by weeks to make shopping and menu-planning almost completely effortless. I won't restate everything I wrote last time (that's what linking is for!) except to say that the simplicity of these recipes did genuinely surprise me when both of the things I made turned out to be delicious and full of flavor.

The last dish, the Roasted Spaghetti Squash with Tomatoes and Zucchini relied on the mingling of flavorful fresh vegetables. This one gets much of its kick from Spanish chorizo. Which is actually a fairly brilliant move. Because these days you can find great Spanish chorizo pretty readily, and then let this sausage of dried smoked red peppers and pork flavor the other ingredients by proxy.

The shrimp and sausage probably isn't quite enough to stand all on its own, but served with a side of rice and it's a perfect, incredibly fast, and (at least in this apartment) very popular meal.

Spanish Shrimp
Republished (with permission) from The Woman's Day Everyday Cookbook, courtesy of Filipacchi Publishing

Yield: 6 servings
Active time: 2 minutes
Total time: 7 minutes

1 teaspoon olive oil
1 package (3 1/2 ounces) fully cooked chorizo sausage, sliced (I usually take mine out of the casing)
1 1/2 lb peeled, deveined raw large shrimp
1/2 cup dry sherry or dry white wine
Garnish: Chopped parsley (Optional)

Heat oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add chorizo and sauté 2 minutes until browned.

Add shrimp and sauté 1 to 2 minutes, just until shrimp turn pink.

Add sherry and sauté 1 minute or until shrimp are cooked through. Garnish with parsley, if desired.

Roasted Spaghetti Squash, Tomatoes & Zucchini

Let's talk cookbooks today, shall we? I'll admit upfront that cooking for me is a hobby, and not as much a daily obligation. I know I'm something of an anomaly in that way, because if I don't feel like cooking one night, there isn't going to be a mutiny of unfed children. And I live in a city large enough that take-out is always an option when I'm feeling lazy. But cooking every single day is it's own challenge, and one that I've been trying to work up to. So when I was offered a review copy of The Woman's Day Everyday Cookbook, I agreed to give it a try.

The premise of the book is 365 recipes, organized by month, and then again by week. Each recipe includes schedule-saving information like number of serving, active time and total time. And each month begins with shopping lists broken down by week and listed according to the section of the grocery store where each ingredient should be found (produce, bakery, meat, deli etc). In theory, the book takes all of the planning out of menu planning, and even out of grocery-list making. The fact that such a practical book would be organized seasonally speaks to how mainstream seasonal cooking has become, and with good reason. We all know seasonal produce tastes better, but it's also less expensive and I think encourages eating and cooking with a variety of foods rather than getting stuck in the same old rut of chicken breasts and mashed potatoes.

I'm going to be honest and tell you that at first glance, I thought these recipes were way too simple to be interesting. Wrong. Seriously, I was completely wrong. I LOVED both of the recipes I chose to profile out of this book, but especially this one. I mean, six ingredients (not counting salt and pepper) and it was one of the best vegetarian dishes I've made. I wish it didn't sound like I was being all hyperbolic right now, but I've made spaghetti squash recipes that required much more work than this one, and they weren't any better. This is the kind of dish you can have memorized after one go, and then pull out of your sleeve at a moment's notice. If you've never made spaghetti squash, don't expect spaghetti, because the resemblance ends at the shape of the strands you scrape out of the shell. This recipe is slated for May 10th in the book, so I'm pretty much right on time with it. Yes, it uses tomatoes which are completely not in season right now, but roasting them makes up for any taste deficiency out of season tomatoes might have, and anyway, this isn't the first time I've recommended roasted cherry tomatoes before their season.

Roasted Spaghetti Squash, Tomatoes & Zucchini
Republished (with permission) from The Woman's Day Everyday Cookbook, courtesy of Filipacchi Publishing

Yield: 4 servings
Active time: 10 minutes
Total time: 55 minutes

1 1/2 pints cherry or grape tomatoes
1/4 cup olive oil
2 teaspoon minced garlic
1 spaghetti squash, about 3 1/2 lb
1 large zucchini, about 1 lb
1/4 teaspoon each salt and pepper
Grated Parmesan (the recipe says this is optional, but it's really not because it's wonderful!)

Position the oven racks to divide oven into thirds. Heat oven to 425F. Line two 15 x 10x 1/2" baking pans with nonstick foil.

Halve tomatoes; place tomatoes, 3 Tbsp oil and the garlic in a 13x9-in baking dish. Halve spaghetti squash lengthwise and scoop out seeds. Brush cut surface of squash with a little of the remaining 1 Tbsp oil; place flash-side down on a foil-lined pan. Quarter zucchini lengthwise and cut into 3/4-in pieces. Place on the other foil-lined pan; toss with remaining oil.

Roast tomatoes and spaghetti squash on top rack 40 minutes until you can easily pierce squash shell. Roast zucchini on bottom rack 30 minutes, tossing once, until tender and slightly browned.

Scrape strands of spaghetti squash into a large bowl. Toss zucchini with roasted tomatoes, salt, and pepper; spoon over spaghetti squash. Sprinkle with Parmesan, if desired (trust me, you desire.)

Apple Almond Tart For Jim

I have a thing for the original American foodies, that group centered around people like James Beard, Julia Child, Craig Claiborne, Waverly Root, and too-often forgotten contributors like Paula Peck and Simone Beck, or Simca (although Simca was, of course, French). Simca is better known as Julia Child's French collaborator for Mastering the Art, but she came out with her own cookbook as well, one filled with her own recipes and her own take on French food.

In Simca's Cuisine, Beck includes a recipe called La Tarte pour Jim, or Apple-Almond Tart for Jim. According to Evan Jones in Epicurean Delight: The Life and Times of James Beard, Simca dedicated her tart to James Beard as a symbol of her affection for the man who had been instrumental in establishing her reputation as a cook and as a teacher here in the US and even in France. All of which makes a great story, but let me tell you. I've made this tart twice in the last week and a half. It's not difficult, the ingredients are easy to get, and it's uncommon enough that people look reflective when they take their first bite, and delighted afterward.

Apple Almond Tart For Jim
Adapted from Simone Beck's Simca's Cuisine

Pâte sablée

1/4 pound unsalted butter (1 stick plus 1 tablespoon)
1 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
Pinch of salt
2 tablespoons sugar
1 large egg yolk, beaten with 4 tablespoons cold water

Put the flour, sugar and salt into a large mixing bowl (I like a large shallow one, since you'll be cutting the butter into the flour). Cut up the butter into small pieces and add it to the flour. Use a pastry cutter or two knives to cut the butter into the flour until it looks like oatmeal.

Make a well in the middle of the flour mixture and pour the beaten egg into it. Use a fork to mix the egg into the flour, then switch to your hands and press the dough into a ball. Wrap in plastic wrap and chill in the refrigerator for at least 20 minutes until it's cold and firm enough to roll. Roll it out to about 1/8 inch and put the dough in a greased 8 or 9 inch tart pan with a removable bottom.

For the Tart

6 tablespoons apricot jam
4 egg yolks
1/2 cup granulated sugar
Pinch of salt
1/2 cup almonds, ground
1/3 cup raisins
1/2 lemon
2 large baking apples (I think I used Fuji)
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
4 tablespoons butter, melted

Spread the apricot jam into a thick layer on the bottom of your dough-lined tart pan and return it to the refrigerator while you make the filling. Preheat the oven to 350F.

Beat the egg yolks as you slowly add the sugar and salt. You'll beat it to the ribbon stage, when the yolks thicken and turn a bright lemony color. Stir in the almonds and the raisins, and set the mixture aside.

Peel the apples and rub the cut lemon over the surface to keep them from browning. This isn't strictly necessary since you're going to bake them anyway, so I just juice the half of the lemon and throw it in the batter because it tastes good. Grate the apples over a bowl, since the apple juice will run everywhere if you try to do it over just a cutting board.

Put small handfuls of apple shreds into a clean kitchen towel and remove the extra moisture by wringing the apple through the towel. Do it in batches, and then mix the apple shreds to the egg mixture along with the cinnamon. Scoop the filling into the tart shell.

Put the tart into the oven and bake for 20 minutes. In the meantime, melt the remaining 4 tablespoons of butter. After 20 minutes, remove the tart from the oven and increase the temperature to 375F. Poke a few holes in the top of the tart with a fork and pour the melted butter over it. Return to the oven for about 20 more minutes. Remove from the oven and let cool on a wrack before serving.