Leaving class today, worrying that trying to lead students to knowledge can be like trying to herd cats, I thought to myself that I wanted something really nice for dinner. (I also thought that I'd like a stiff drink, but I try not to think that.) My only real constraint was that it use broccoli, as I had some from the farm stand earlier in the week that I ought to use up. (Wine was just a bonus. I swear.)

Normally, as I prefer dry and oaky wines, I don't like white; I find it tends to be too sweet or fruity. This recipe, though, seemed both interesting and useful with things I already had in the kitchen. All I needed was the clams and a bottle of white. Even smarriveurr liked it, and he doesn't normally eat "sea rocks." And I didn't even need a stiff drink.

Pasta with Sausage, Broccoli and Clams

250 g pasta
300 g sweet Italian sausage, in bite-sized pieces
3 cloves garlic, minced
red jalapeno, julienned
bunch broccoli, done into florets
dozen Maine clams, scrubbed
4 dL white wine (I used Yellow Tail sauvignon blanc, which is surprisingly layered for an Australian wine)
tbsp butter

While doing the rest of this, cook the pasta. In the last couple minutes of cooking, toss in the broccoli. Drain. Put into serving bowl.

In a large saucepan or pot, brown the sausage. Remove the sausage to your serving bowl. To the same pan add the garlic and jalapeno, and cook for about a minute. Pour in the wine and clams, turn up the heat, cover and steam for about 10 minutes (until the clams open). When they're open, add the butter and season with salt and pepper. Pour over the pasta, broccoli and sausage.

The original recipe from which I adapted this called for a topping of parmagiana and fresh parsley, but it was still tasty without.

One of the perils of my chosen profession(s) is that sometimes it can be difficult to come away with a proper sense of accomplishment. Lacking a concrete product at the end of my work day, sometimes it really is much more satisfying simply to do with the hands, to make. Today was one of those days.

I've finished up a photo roster of my students so I can attempt to start learning names (always a slow process) before the semester starts. I've re-read Atrahasis and the Epic of Gilgamesh, and formulated questions and possible answers, for discussion section. I've integrated notes from throughout the week's reading into my semester's lecture notes. And at the end of the day, I'd done a lot, but my hands were itching to have made.

Luckily, the local farm stand has been providing us with amazing produce, which they sell in such quantities that I always feel I need to eat a lot of fruit and veg before it goes off, which is good for me, anyway. This past week, I picked up some blushing pears--I can't remember the specific cultivar, but they stay quite firm when they're ripe, only barely yielding to moderate pressure. Of course, I couldn't help but pick up a punnet of teeny little apricots (they were so coquettish!), too, which left me with a technical overabundance of fruit. But there is always room for dessert!

This recipe originally came from last autumn's issue of Edible Chesapeake, in an article on orchards by John Shields.

Pear Clafoutis

4 large eggs
6 tbsp/120 g sugar
0.25 c/60 g flour
3 tbsp (60 g?) butter, melted
c/2.5 dL milk
kilo ripe pears, cored and thinly sliced

Preheat oven to 350ºF/180ºC and grease a casserole that you'd use for a 4-person dish (the recipe said 9x9x2").

Whisk together the eggs and sugar. Add flour and mix thoroughly. Pour in butter and milk, whisking until well blended.

Pour a thin layer of batter into the prepared pan. Arrange the pear slices on the batter (the recipe here recommended a spiral pattern--I ended up with a continuous spiral of several layers.) and pour the remaining batter over it.

Baked it 25-30 minutes, or until "just slightly firm." I baked it until it looked like an unbrowned Yorkshire pud and the skin on the pears (yes, I am a philistine and refuse to get rid of that gorgeous colour) looked a little leathery. Meant to serve six. Might last for two!

You know the dilemmas: how do you keep up with all the lovely local produce? What on earth, especially, do you do with the other half of the giant eggplant? What, further, do you do with the Viking-themed, Ohio-wine-country "red table wine" brought as a hostess gift¹ by some recent houseguests? "But Why is the Rum Gone?" Test Kitchens now brings you the only-partly-fictional answer to your early-period-pirate (Yarr...ahem, "IaR") eggplanty prayers, a casserole that does just the trick:

Sausage-Eggplant-Pasta Bake

500 g sweet or fennel sausage
half a large eggplant, sliced into cm rings and then quartered
large onion, diced
2 shallots, sliced
2 large tomatoes (I used a red and a yellow), diced
quarter of a preserved lemon, small dice (it's potent!)
1 dL tomato sauce
tsp Penzey's Turkish seasoning (optional)
300 g pasta (I used campanelle)
Viking Vineyards' "Valhalla"² wine
grated Italiany cheese for sprinkling

In a large pan over high heat, brown the sausage, and then remove to a large baking dish. Set your pasta to cook; when it's done, reserve about 1.5 dL of the cooking liquid, and drain the rest. (Time this to coincide with the tomato sauce, below, being done. It'll be easier this way, trust me.) Preheat your oven to 180ºC/350ºF.

In the grease rendered out from the sausage, saute the eggplant in batches until it browns (you may need to add more oil for subsequent batches but CAUTION: EGGPLANT IS MORE ABSORBENT THAN BRAWNY, KOTEX, OR YOUR CAT--you are warned). Dump artfully over the sausage in the aforementioned baking dish.

Saute the onion and shallots together until translucent. Add the diced tomatoes and the diced preserved lemon, and stir.

Open the wine, and have a smell like you always do. Stop abruptly. You were going to use this wine to develop the tomato flavour of the sauce, as quite a few of the tomato flavours are really only alcohol-soluble,³ but it's just...unappealing. Pour yourself a small tumbler, to test it. Gag on the most un-red-wine-like thing you've managed to taste. Decide the correct answer was "joke" (see note 1), and set it aside.⁴ Make a sad face, and wonder how your audience shall ever forgive you.

Pour the reserved pasta water into the tomato sauce to thin it, and pour it over the tomato-onion mixture in the pan. Sprinkle on a little Turkish seasoning to change the depth of the flavour. Let the sauce cook down just a little over high heat. Pour the drained pasta and the sauce over the sauteed sausage and eggplant. Smooth down a little bit, as your pile of layers is getting a bit unwieldy. Sprinkle with grated cheese. Bake for 20 minutes.

Unpleasant mead-wine unpotable aside, this is actually a really delicious casserole, and no one should be ashamed except this Viking Vineyards place.

¹ Said gift was meant "either as a gift or a joke; it'll be a surprise when you open it."
² Names not changed, to point fingers.
³ Alton Brown said so, so it's true.
⁴ Surprisingly enough, this episode never actually uses the alcohol we normally enjoy. Very sorry.

As rhubarb is currently in season, I picked up a few stalks from the farm stand, thinking I'd make rhubarb compote, but I was distracted by a "Straight-up Rhubarb Pie." Turns out I was a little short on the rhubarb for the latter recipe, so I substituted a cup of halved strawberries. I guess that makes it "straight up" no longer.

Hey, derangedferret and foxxydancr: when's Rhubarbapalooza?

derangedferret's Guinness brownies have an amazing bittersweet flavour and a lovely texture different to that of many brownies I've eaten. Delicious. You all should try making some! Reposted here with permission

Brownies v2.0:
5 oz bakers chocolate
1/2 C brewed coffee
6 tbsp butter (unsalted)
1 3/4 C sugar
2 tsp vanilla
3 eggs, beaten
3/4 C flour
2 tbsp cocoa powder

In a large heavy sauce pan simmer 1/2 cup coffee. Turn down heat to low and add 5 ounces bakers chocolate, chopped. When smooth, add 6 tablespoons butter, stirring until completely combined. Remove from heat and let cool for 5-10 minutes.

Stir in 1 3/4 cups sugar and 2 teaspoons vanilla until combined. Stir in 3 eggs, beaten, until combined. Add 3/4 cup flour and 2-3 tablespoons cocoa powder and stir until combined . Pour into pan and bake at 350F for 25-28 minutes.

Just as an addendum to the lemon pud recipe, it works nicely with a blood orange substituted for one of the lemons, too, though the colour goes a little peachy-pink. Might try substituting two blood oranges for two of the lemons, just to see if the colour doesn't go a little more appetizing.

Cooked for some friends (WANOLJ, IIRC) on Sunday evening, and did a pudding variation from Nigel as the end-of-meal sweetness. I definitely want to remember this one.

A sponge pudding with its own sauce

7 tbsp butter
14 tbsp sugar
3 lemons
4 eggs
4.5 tbsp white flour
1.75 c milk

Cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Set oven to 350ºF/180ºC. Grate zest of one lemon. Cut the lemons in half and squeeze out the juice.

Separate the eggs and add the yolks to the creamed butter. Add the flour and milk to create a soft, cake-like batter.

Beat the egg whites to stiff peaks, and fold in. Scrape into a heatproof bowl or dish so that the batter comes halfway up the sides. Stand the dish in a bain-marie and bake for an hour or so, until the top is puffed and golden and feels spongy to the touch. Cool for five minutes before serving into bowls.

Tuna steaks were a reasonable price this week, so I decided to indulge.

Seared Yellowfin with Soy-Mustard Vegetables

450 g yellowfin tuna steaks
tbsp soy sauce
tsp mustard
0.5 tsp honey (I used buckwheat)
red pepper, cut into strips
2 stalks celery, fronds removed for garnish and sliced
charnushka (black sesame)

Mix the soya, mustard and honey, and spread over the steaks. Marinade while you put on your rice and chop your veg. Save the bowl with the leavings.

Heat a little light oil in your pan over very high heat. Sear the tuna, turning once. (I like rare tuna steaks, so I did 90 seconds on each side. Cook longer if you want it done through.) Remove from the heat and cover to finish cooking.

Meanwhile, put your veg in the pan to saute. Put a couple tablespoons of water into the marinade mixing bowl, and swish it around to dissolve the last of the flavour. Pour the water into the pan after a couple minutes of sauteeing to steam the veg the rest of the way cooked.

Garnish the steaks with the sesame and celery leaves, and serve with the veg and white rice.

Breakfast. It's necessary, and I need to make sure I have some tomorrow. And I'm craving beer bread.

Perusing the internets to attempt to find a recipe, I found a nice recipe for apricot beer bread that used apricot ale and dried apricots. We have a cranberry lambic from a case of Sam Adams seasonal brews I'd picked up before last weekend's Twelfth Night event, and almost always have dried cranberries in the house, so it seems a nice switch. Thus, "But Why Is the Rum Gone?" Test Kitchens bring you

Cranberry Beer Bread

3 c flour
2 tsp baking powder
0.5 tsp salt
0.5 c sugar
3 tbsp vegetable oil
12 oz cranberry lambic
0.5 c dried cranberries

Preheat oven to 180ºC/350ºF and lightly grease a loaf pan.

In very large bowl, whisk together dry ingredients. Stir in cranberries. Make a well in the centre and add vegetable oil and beer. Stir just until no streaks of flour remain. Pour batter into prepared pan.

Bake 55-60 minutes, until top springs back when lightly pressed. Turn out of the pan and allow to cool on wire rack.

Last night, smarriveurr made latkes, which is sweet, because shredding potatoes is way more trouble than latkes are normally worth. His zeal for shredding potatoes--influenced by the sheer lies of the recipe he was following--led to more shredded potato than he needed, and thus some head-scratching earlier today as to what to do with it.

I give you a totally half-assed dish that tastes absolutely delicious. No photos, because it looked rather unremarkable.

Potato-Mushroom Quiche

bacon drippings (this time taken from the New Years' hog jowl)
2 cups shredded potatoes
onion, minced
can cream-of-mushroom condensed soup
4 eggs

Preheat the oven to 180ºC/350ºF. Grease a casserole with the bacon drippings. Lay the shredded potato in the dish, and sprinkle with the minced onion. Whisk the cream of mushroom and eggs together, and season with salt and pepper (probably about 0.25 tsp salt, all told, for us). Pour over the potatoes and onions. Bake for an hour, until the quiche has a lovely toasted top.

I imagine this would also be delicious with shredded cheese, but all we had was Stilton and I thought that might be too strong a flavour.

From time to time our local market has exotic fruits that are very unlikely to grow in Pennsylvania, and I score lucky little tasty things, like persimmons. For those of you who've never eaten one, you need to let them go mushy, either on the tree or on the countertop, to about the stage where a banana would only be good for banana bread--dark spots and slightly squishy. Halve, and scrape out the pulp with a spoon. Mine didn't have seeds this time, but the seeds are edible, too.

Baked Persimmon Pudding

g baking soda
235 g persimmon pulp
200 g white sugar
egg, beaten
125 g all-purpose flour
5 g baking powder
ground cinnamon and vanilla extract (about a tsp of each)
0.5 tsp salt
295 ml milk
30 g melted butter (about 2 tbsp before melting)

Stir wet ingredients into dry. Pour into a greased bread pan and bake at 325ºF/165ºC for 50 minutes. It'll be a dark, caramelized colour and smell fantastic. Don't bother trying to remove it from the pan with anything other than a spoon--it'll be a gooey, not-too-sweet mess, and entirely delicious.

I had a brain wave yesterday at the farm stand, where I found at least 2 meals' worth of local spinach for $1.5, and decided that Italian wedding soup would be in order. I came home to remember that the Italian sausage in the freezer, which I'd intended to use in place of meatballs, was in fact hot Italian sausage. Never one to miss an opportunity to do something truly screwy, I bring you...

Italian Shotgun Wedding Soup

...because it kicks like a small mule, and is much quicker than I'd initially expected.

150 g hot Italian sausage, cut into bite-sized pieces
tbsp bacon drippings
2 tbsp sliced green onion
medium vidalia onion, halved and sliced
4 cloves garlic
2 ribs celery
1.5 L chicken stock
several handfuls dried pasta
double fistful fresh spinach, washed and torn into pieces
bay leaf
poultry-type herbs (sage, thyme, savoury, etc.)
pinch cayenne

Melt the bacon grease in a large stockpot, and fry the sausage about 2/3 of the way to doneness. Add the onions, garlic, and celery, and saute for about a minute. Pour in the stock when everything looks like it's going to burn. Toss in the pasta (I used shells). Give it a good stir.

Optional step: Freak out because the phone is ringing, and nearly burn yourself on the pot. I don't recommend this step.

When the pasta is a couple minutes away from being al dente, season the soup, stir, dump in the spinach, and stir again. Turn off the heat (and optionally finish your phone conversation), and let the spinach wilt with the residual heat in the soup.

Serve with some grated parmesan reggiano.

I bet adding a few dashes of tabasco would make this a truly frighteningly-good concoction, and am seriously considering a shot of vodka in it, too, as I hear it does good things for matzoh ball soup.

No, really, I'm not crazy (or at least this is not admissible as evidence that I am crazy--the overall problem may still be subject to debate)--this really is delicious.

Because I know several of you gentle readers would be happy to see this, which I have from liadethornegge: "Mises et Receptes," a project to translate a 16th cen French "daily book," is going on over at gouberville, now with daily entries.

Had come across the inspiration for this recipe in Cook's Illustrated, but had used up all the chilis yesterday in an olive-pepper chicken with saffron-chili sauce.

Drooling yet? You should be.

Spanish-Style Garlic Shrimp

9 cloves garlic, peeled
1 #/500 g shrimp, peeled and deveined
8 tbsp olive oil
0.5 tsp salt
bay leaf
0.25 tsp cayenne pepper
tsp vinegar

Mince 4 cloves garlic. Toss with shrimp, 2 tbsp olive oil, and salt in medium bowl. Led marinate at room temperature for an hour.

Roughly chop rest of garlic cloves. In a cast iron pan over low heat, cook sliced garlic, bay leaf, and cayenne, stirring occasionally until garlic is tender but not browned. Increase heat to medium-low. Add shrimp with marinade to pan in single layer. Cook shrimp, undisturbed, until oil starts to bubble, about 2 minutes. Using tongs, flip shrimp and continue to cook until almost cooked through, about 2 minutes longer. Increase heat to high, and add vinegar. Cook, stirring constantly, until shrimp are cooked through and oil is bubbling vigorously, about 15-20 seconds. Serve immediately with crusty bread to soak up the sauce.

j00licious and zeriel have invited us up to theirs for a "Rosh Hashtravaganza," and I was asked to make honey cake--honey cake being a symbol of wishing for sweet things in the Jewish new year.

Research proved problematic. Most recipes I read were so sweet as to make my teeth hurt, or hydrated so fully with dairy that the crepe-consistency batter made me dubious as to its resiliency in transport and my ability to consume such a quantity of lactose without adverse consequences. Well, then, time to go above and beyond normal kitchen witchery into culinary mad science.

Was there alcohol involved? You bet your Bubbe's tuchus! What do you think we are, here?

Before you go questioning my ability to respect any religious traditions whatsoever, there was method and intention behind this mad science. Following a similar vein to the honey's symbolic value, I sought to include other wishes for the new year: sufficient energy to tackle all necessary projects (coffee), the time to relax and enjoy life (whiskey) and enough spice to make it interesting (cinnamon, ginger and coriander). The resulting cake, though, is not just symbolically delicious. "But Why Is the Rum Gone?" test kitchens bring you another foray into Judaica:

(  Wishes for an Interesting Year Honey Cake )

In anticipation of War this weekend, I wanted to make an oat flatbread to take along. Decided to go with a softer Icelandic variety than the "please don't beat me over the head with that" Norwegian bricks, which admittedly are meant to keep without going off for decades. I needn't worry too much about bad harvests before we get back to civilisation. Knock on wood.

Oatcake Flatbread

1.5 c/135 g rolled oats
0.75 c/125 g plain flour
0.5 tsp baking soda
0.5 tsp salt
0.5 c/125 mL buttermilk
0.25 c/60 mL vegetable oil

Pulverize the oats in a food processor until crumbly. Add the rest of the dry ingredients. Make a well in the centre, and stir in the wet ingredients. Let the dough rest 20 minutes. Divide into four pieces, and roll flat to about the size of your hand with the fingers spread. Fry in a little oil or melted butter until browned on each side.

At Domtrappkällaren in Uppsala a couple months ago, I had some absolutely amazing rhubarb compote and have been craving some since, to the point where, going out to the Union Square greenmarket with Bakerina today, I was on a quest for rhubarb. Nom, fresh rhubarb.

This rhubarb barely needed peeling, but the ends did need to be trimmed.

Rhubarb Compote

~650 grammes/4 c rhubarb, diced
125 g/0.5 c white sugar
tablespoon cinnamon
60 mL orange juice

I cooked these in a pan, stirring very frequently, over medium-high flame for about 15 minutes, until the rhubarb was tender. I removed it from the heat and mashed it all with the potato masher. This made enough for two pint jars laid up plus extra for a small bowl that's in the fridge awaiting it's final fate--though said fate may just be a spoon.

I think the original compote may have had some vanilla and ginger, too, though I haven't experimented with that, yet. Wanted to get the compote into jars while it was the hottest it could be, and I don't like waiting for these things to cool. Shall just have to make another batch. ;)

It's a rainy, grey day outside, and cooler than it had been the past few days (down to 10º from 25º), so something warm and hearty was most welcome. I had theoretically been saving this particular can of chopped clams for stuffing steaks, following an 18th century recipe, but my enthusiasm got the better of me, and once I had chowder on the brain it was hard to shake. I've never actually made clam chowder from scratch by myself before, but I have cooked clams, and this would be just as easy to make with steamed clams.

Great Swamp Clam Chowder, New England Style

2 tbsp bacon drippings, or butter
medium yellow onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
3 fist-sized potatoes, large diced
2 c/5 dL milk
6.5 oz/180 g can chopped clams in clam juice
2 small carrots, peeled and sliced
2 green onions or stalks of wild garlic, chopped
0.5 tsp fresh sage, chiffonade
0.5 tsp fresh basil, chiffonade
tbsp dried parsley
2 tsp kosher salt
2 tsp Penzeys shrimp & crab boil mix/Old Bay seasoning mix*
0.25 tsp cracked peppercorns
2 tbsp flour (optional)

*What's in this? According to the catalog: yellow and brown mustard seed, allspice, coriander, Ceylon cloves, cracked bay leaves, cracked ginger, Tellicherry peppercorns, chili pepper, dill seed and caraway seed. If you're overseas and can't get some, I'll be in Europe again next month.

Melt the fat in a large saucepan. Cook the onion and garlic until fragrant. Add the potatoes, and cook until the onions start to colour. Pour in the milk. Drain the clams, adding the juice to the milk; reserve clams. Add the carrots and wild garlic. Once the milk is at a simmer, keep the pot at a simmer over low heat for about 40 minutes. Add the herbs and spices to taste. (If you think by now it ought to be a little thicker, whisk in the flour a little at a time and cook a couple minutes more to thicken.) Remove from heat. Stir in reserved clams. Let sit three minutes to bring the clams up to temperature.

If you need to reheat it, don't bring it the whole way to the boil, as that makes the clams rubbery and contribued to your dislike of clams as a kid, believe me. This was lovely with toasted slices of fresh English Muffin bread. Really good for a cold day.

smarriveurr made Biryani burgers for supper, and I made naan bread to go with them. I didn't get any pictures of the burgers because we inhaled them way too quickly, but the bread was both fun and easy to make.

I served these tonight with a rice/vermicelli risotto. smarriveurr actually seems to have liked this fish.

Blackened Tilapia, vaguely following advice from the Bass on Hook Fishing Resource Center

3 tilapia fillets
tbsp Paprika
tsp salt
0.25 tsp ground pepper
clove garlic, minced
0.5 tsp chilli powder
tsp dried basil
0.5 tsp thyme
tbsp butter, melted
tbsp lemon juice

Mix seasonings in a bowl. Brush fillets with melted butter and coat with seasonings. Heat tbsp olive oil in large saute pan until shimmering. Place fillets in hot skillet and cook 2 minutes on each side, or until opaque.

Eggplant-Tomato Stacks, inspired by Sara Moulton

medium eggplant, sliced into rounds*
large tomato, sliced*
olive oil
balsamic vinegar
dried basil
parmesan cheese

* I sliced such that I had equal numbers of slices of eggplant and tomato. You may want different ratios--just plan accordingly. In hindsight, I probably also should have peeled the eggplant. You are forewarned.

Lay down a slice of eggplant, drizzle with olive oil, and sprinkle with basil. Lay a slice of tomato on top. Splash with balsamic vinegar. Add two more layers, thusly, of eggplant and tomato. Top with parmesan and basil. Broil about 15 minutes, or until the cheese has toasted.