The easiest apple pie...

Thin crust French apple tart. Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

 ...is a tart. Just sweetened fruit on a crust. To quote a certain contessa, "How easy is that?"

I make this puff pastry tart often and it disappears soon after I pull it out of the oven. It's a simple afternoon snack, an elegant dessert, or a breakfast treat. Puff pastry is a wonderful thing to keep in your freezer "pantry" - just remember to defrost it in the fridge (lesson learned the yucky way!).

Use any sort of pie apple here, one that will hold up to baking - Granny Smith is the standard. I've used Gala, Golden Delicious and heirloom Limbertwigs with success.

Thin Crust Apple Tarts

2 apples such as Golden Delicous or Granny Smith
1 cup water
1/2 cup sugar
Juice of one-half lemon
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 frozen puff pastry sheet (from a 17 1/4-oz package), thawed in the refrigerator

1. Using a knife or a handy-dandy apple peeler/slicer/corer, peel, core and cut apples into thin (1/8-inch) slices and place in bowl.

2. In a small saucepan over medium heat, bring water, sugar, lemon juice, and butter to a boil, stirring until sugar is dissolved. Remove from heat and pour mixture over apple slices. Toss apples in mixture until coated, then drain in a colander set over the pot used to cook the syrup. Reserve the liquid.

3. Preheat oven to 425°F. Line a baking sheet with a Silpat or parchment paper. On a lightly floured surface, roll out pastry sheet and using small plate as a template, cut out as many rounds as you can from the sheet. Transfer rounds to the baking sheet and top each with apple slices, slightly overlapping the edges in a pattern. Bake in a 425 degree oven until golden brown, about 25 minutes. Place on wire rack to cool.

4. Boil reserved liquid in saucepan until slightly reduced, then brush on baked tarts.

(recipe adapted from "The Gourmet Cookbook")

Thin crust apple tart. Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

 Look for more stories and recipes featuring apples, including pictures of our visit to Mercier's Orchards in Blue Ridge, Georgia!

More apple recipes:

Apple crisp
Classic apple dumplings
Short-cut apple dumplings
Applesauce
Apple pie
Apple blondie

Three more A Cook and Her Books recipes that use apples:

My Blue Ribbon Morning Glory Muffins
Indian-spiced chicken soup: Mulligatawny
Kid-friendly sushi

And for pictures from our weekend in the North Georgia mountains, see "An Apple a Day."
Text and images copyright 2011, Lucy Mercer.

Baked Potato Soup with Cheese and Bacon

Baked Potato Soup by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books



There are a few recipes that every cook should have in her hip pocket, so to speak, recipes like lemon pepper roast chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, perfect brownies. The kinds of belly-filling foods that are greeted with relief from the kids and spousal unit (no weird vegetables tonight!). Baked potato soup is just such a recipe - creamy and cheesy, loaded with potato chunks and bacon pieces.

Here in Georgia, we've had days that feel like summer, but the nights are still cool - tonight we may get a touch of frost. There are doubtless a few rough and raw days ahead where a warming bowl of potato soup will be welcome.

I've made this recipe for years - it came from a trusty Junior League cookbook. The original was quite dairy-rich. I took away some of the milk, replacing it with a pantry staple, low-sodium chicken broth in the 32-ounce aseptic package. That stuff is cooking gold - I use it in gravy and soups and to season vegetables. I also save fat grams by lightening the soup with plain non-fat yogurt instead of sour cream, The resulting soup is still not diet food, but you can have a slightly larger portion than usual.

Just a little forethought is required when making this soup - the day before, place the potatoes in the oven while you're cooking something else - a roast or a casserole.

Baked Potato Soup with Cheddar and Bacon



4 Russet potatoes, baked, peeled and cubed

2/3 cup unsalted butter

2/3 cup all-purpose flour

1 (32-oz) package low salt chicken broth

2 cups milk

2 cups Cheddar cheese, shredded

4 strips bacon, cooked, drained and crumbled

4 ounces sour cream or non-fat yogurt

Salt and pepper to taste

1. In a Dutch oven or soup pot, melt butter. Stir in flour and cook over medium heat for a couple of minutes. Add chicken broth slowly, whisking until smooth. Add milk and continue stirring. Add half of cheese, pour remaining amount in a bowl for garnish. Add cubed baked potatoes.

2. Just before serving, stir in sour cream or yogurt. Add pepper to taste. Garnish each serving with bacon and remaining cheese. Finely chopped green onions or chives would make lovely garnishes. I use skim milk and light sour cream and reduced fat cheese in this and it still as rich as you'd ever want it.

Text and images copyright 2011.

Consider the kumquat

Kumquats from Florida. Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

Funny story: yesterday, my daughter's preschool teacher shared another "Lindsey story" that made her laugh. It was "L" week and Miss Katie gathered the class and gave them each a dab of lavender lotion to rub on their hands. Ooh, doesn't it smell good? Oooh, it's so soft! My little Lindsey said, "it smells just like my Mom's kumquat pie!"

I grinned at the story and confessed that we do indeed eat kumquat pie at my house. I'm not so sure that it smells like lavender, but if you're crazy for citrus like we are here, you'll get lightheaded at the sight and smell of intensely citrus-y and creamy kumquat pie.

Before I made the pie, I made Candied Kumquats, inspired by a recipe in David Tanis' "Heart of the Artichoke" (Artisan Books, 2010). He tops lemon bars with candied kumquats and the picture in the book sold me - shortbread crust topped with lemon curd then glorious, glistening sunshine-orange kumquats. The candied kumquats are a cinch to make - in a saucepan, heat 1/2 cup water and pour in 3/4 cup sugar, stir until sugar is dissolved. Halve kumquats and flick the seed out with a knife. Place halved kumquats in sugar syrup and let bubble away for about 15 minutes or so. Keep an eye on them so they don't burn or bubble over. Remove from heat and let cool. Store in an airtight container such as a glass jar in the fridge. Candied kumquats are a lovely garnish for the following pie or can be eaten on their own, straight up.

In the heart of winter, Atlanta supermarket produce aisles are stocked with the best of Florida's citrus - grapefruits, oranges and tangerines, but you have to look carefully for the fruit that you can eat peel and all - the kumquat. The golden yellow gems are sold in cartons, sometimes in the refrigerator case. Tart and sweet kumquats can be eaten raw, but absolutely shine in sweet desserts such as this creamy and refreshing Kumquat Pie. This recipe uses low and non-fat ingredients to keep the fat count down and New Year's resolutions intact.


Kumquat Pie. Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books


Kumquat Pie

Purchase a ready-made graham cracker crust or make this homemade version. Some supermarket crusts are small, you may need to purchase two.

Graham Cracker Crust

9 graham crackers

1/4 cup brown sugar

1/2 teaspoon salt

6 tablespoons butter, melted


1. Preheat oven to 350. In a food processor, blitz the graham crackers into fine crumbs. Add sugar, salt and melted butter. Press mixture into a 9-inch glass pie pan. Bake for 10 minutes; crust will be dry and firm when done.

Filling

1 pint kumquats

1 (14 oz.) can non-fat sweetened condensed milk

1 (8 oz.) container whipped topping such as Cool Whip, thawed

½ cup fresh-squeezed lemon juice


1. Pick over the kumquats and remove any that are mushy or bruised. With each fruit, remove the stem, then slice in half pole to pole and with a knife, flick out the seeds. Place the kumquats in the bowl of a food processor and pulverize to bits.
2. In a bowl, fold the sweetened condensed milk into the Cool Whip. Stir in the lemon juice and the kumquats. Pour into the prepared crust. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for several hours before serving.

Have you ever tried kumquats? Do you eat them raw or cooked?

Text and images copyright 2011, Lucy Mercer.

A sign at the Times

Mark Bittman, New York Times columnist/MarkBittman.com

One of my favorite food writers, Mark Bittman, is moving from the food pages to the opinion desk at the New York Times. (Some of you may know that once upon a time, I wrote for a newspaper and still read many newspapers daily. With newspapers online these days, the New York Times has become my paper of record. They even covered the biggest story in my little town in the past century – the 500-year flood  – better than my “local” papers. ) Bittman’s Minimalist column started as a way to help home cooks improve their game, nourishing themselves and their families, and it grew to reflect changing times and attitudes toward food. Bittman sums up the 700 stories in 13 years here.

What I think is interesting about the move is what Bittman will be writing about next: food policy and ethics on the Times op-ed page. That’s right, next to the daily musings on the state of politics and policy, Bittman will write about what Americans eat and what that means. The conversation is changing from how to prepare what we eat to the provenance of what’s on the plate. The issues go beyond carbon footprints, teenage obesity and when to eat an heirloom tomato, encompassing the ethics of food, the rights of workers, the ominous -sounding term “food justice.” I’m an unabashed Bittman fan and I have no problem saying that I’m looking forward to this next bold step in food journalism.

In Bittman’s history of the Minimalist, he talks about the most popular recipe he never wrote, Jim Lahey's No Knead Bread. If you’ve ever baked a loaf of bread, this revolutionary technique will rock your world. The recipe requires very little yeast, no kneading (although I’ve found a few turns around a floured counter really help to pretty up the loaf), and it’s baked in a scorching hot covered Dutch oven. The joy and genius of this bread is that you make it in stages, mixing up the dough one day, letting it rise, shaping and baking the following day. Hands-on time is minimal, the resulting rustic hearth-worthy loaf will amaze your friends and family. I live in a bread-poor area of town, at least in terms of “artisan” loaves. Having a loaf of No-Knead Bread on my counter assures me that a hearty sandwich or even the after products - homemade croutons and quality bread crumbs, are within my reach.

Here’s the link for the recipe – let’s give the NYT some love. My only variations are in the pot that I use and the fact that I knead the dough for a minute or two before the first rise. The pot that I use is a Lodge cast-iron chicken fryer with a lid. It’s not quite as deep as a Dutch oven, but it gets screaming hot in the oven and produces a chewy, rustic loaf.

A rustic loaf of No-Knead Bread by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

What about you? Are you a Bittman fan? What will you miss about the Minimalist? Do you think food writing belongs on the opinion page?

Text and bread image copyright 2011, Lucy Mercer.

Good Gravy

Gravy for poultry by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

Good gravy is a godsend, whether you need it to dress the bird, the dressing or the mashed potatoes, having homemade gravy on the Thanksgiving table pretty much separates the real cooks from the duffers.

There's no particular magic to gravy, just attention to ingredients and proper stirring to eliminate lumps will carry a novice through. Here's the recipe that I've used for years - it's based on canned chicken broth, but substitute homemade turkey or chicken or vegetable broth as you wish. For the Thanksgiving feast, combine the gravy with some of the pan drippings from the bird for a truly spectacular gravy (if the bird has been brined, add drippings judiciously, the salt can quickly overwhelm the sauce).

Gravy for Poultry

3 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 onion, peeled and roughly chopped

1 carrot, peeled and roughly chopped

1 stalk celery, peeled and roughly chopped

1/4 cup all-purpose flour

1 bay leaf

1 sprig fresh thyme, if available

1 (32 oz) package low-salt chicken broth

Salt and pepper to taste.

1. In a small saucepan over medium heat, melt butter. Add the vegetables, all roughly chopped, and let brown, stirring occasionally. Pour chicken broth into a microwavable container and zap for 1 minute.

2. Stir the vegetables until they are nice and caramel-colored, about 10 minutes, then add 1/4 cup all-purpose flour. Stir this into the vegetables for an additional 5 minutes or so. Then gradually add 4 cups of warm broth. Strain the broth through a sieve, discarding the solids. Season to taste. Cool and store the gravy in the fridge for a day or so, or place in the freezer until Thanksgiving Day.

3. On Turkey Day, stand by the stove, lovingly stirring the gravy, adjusting the seasoning and admiring your kitchen skills. Homemade gravy without lumps, and not requiring a packet or a pocket or a jar.

Classic apple dumplings, with an appearance by my evil twin




Apples. Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books



Apple dumplings just sound good. Ever since coming across a picture of apple dumplings in a 1970s Southern Living cookbook, I've wanted to bake them - warm fruit, filled with spices and nuts or candy (like Red Hots), encased in a sweet pastry, baked to golden goodness and topped with cream.

Making apple dumplings with delicious apples from the North Georgia mountains gives me a chance to use some special tools in my kitchen. I'm not a gadget junkie - I believe that a good set of knives and pots will get you through most recipes, but there are some specialized tools that don't take up much room in the gadget drawer and make fast, efficient work of some tasks - coring and sectioning apples, for example. I favor the corer pictured here on the left because it has a slide that pops out the core - I've broken several traditional corers just trying to remove the core from the tool. The corer/slicer on the right is handy when I need to section apples quickly and evenly - not a necessary item, to be sure, but it performs its job well.



Apple Gadgets by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

Making the pastry gives me an excuse to use one of the rolling pins my husband made for me a few years ago. He surprised me on my birthday with three rolling pins, each out of walnut turned on a lathe. They’re displayed in a frame in my kitchen - a creative solution to an exposed pipe that didn’t fit into the soffit. Needing to cover the drain pipe, my clever husband crafted this open cabinet. The molding covers the drain pipe and my rolling pins are always at the ready.



Rolling pins in cabinet by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

The pin at the top is the pretties and is employed during Christmas sugar cookie baking. The second is heaviest and is ideal for working with very cold, buttery doughs that need a solid thwack to get warmed up and workable. My favorite is the angled French pin, perfect for turning corners and shaping pastry into a round for a pie. I used the heavy pin with the flaky cream cheese pastry dough for the dumplings, sectioning the dough then rolling each piece into a 6-inch square.



Rolling out pastry by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

And then filling the apple with a mixture of brown sugar and pecans:



Apple on pastry by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

These are the apple dumplings, fresh from the oven:




Apple dumplings on baking sheet by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

Cream Cheese Pastry for Apple Dumplings

Adapted from the "Pie and Pastry Bible" by Rose Levy Beranbaum

12 tablespoons unsalted butter, cold and cut into 12 pieces

2 cups bleached all-purpose flour

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon baking powder

4 1/2 ounces cold cream cheese (I used Neufchatel), cut into 4 pieces

2 tablespoons ice water

1 tablespoon cider vinegar

At least an hour before you plan to make the apple dumplings, make the pastry crust, so it will have time to chill out and relax.

1. In a food processor, combine the dry ingredients and stir together for a couple seconds.

2. Add the cream cheese and process for about 15 seconds or until mixture resembles crumbs. Add butter and process until all pieces are uniform and crumbly.

3. Using tube, pour in ice water and cider vinegar, slowly and process until incorporated. Dough will still be in pieces.

4. Remove the blade and dump the crumbly dough mixture into a large plastic bag. Using your fingers, press the mixture together. When it is a solid dough, press the air out, seal it and refrigerate for an hour or even overnight.



Apple Dumplings by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

Apple Dumplings

1 recipe Cream Cheese Pastry

Flour for dusting

6 baking apples such as Golden Delicious

Juice of one half lemon

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/4 cup pecans, chopped

3/4 teaspoon cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon allspice

1 egg white, lightly beaten

Demerara or granulated sugar for glazing

For garnish: lightly sweetened, softly whipped cream or  plain yogurt sweetened with honey and cinnamon

1. Preheat oven to 425. Core apples, peel and brush with lemon juice.

2. In a small bowl, combine butter, brown sugar, pecans and spices.

3. Divide dough into 6 equal pieces and using your favorite rolling pin, one at a time, roll each piece of dough approximately 6 inches square. Place apple on pastry, fill cavity with sugar and pecan mixture. Brush edges of pastry with egg white. Bring opposite corners to the top of the apple and press seams together, being careful so that juices won't escape in the baking.

4. Place each dumpling on a parchment or Silpat-lined baking sheet. Brush with more egg white and sprinkle with demerara or granulated sugar. Bake at 425 for 30 minutes. When pastry is golden, remove from oven. Serve dumplings warm, garnished with sweetened whipped cream or yogurt, perhaps with cinnamon stirred in.


My evil twin will try anything once. She visited the Salon Kitchen Challenge last week with her Bostock creation - doughnuts soaked in coffee syrup and finished off with whipped cream and bacon. This week, my evil twin liberates a recipe from my friend Julie, who served up this unbelievably delicious panful of apple dumplings and said that the secret was a can of Mountain Dew in the sauce. That, plus it gives me an excuse to pop open a tube of crescent dough.

My evil twin likes to break recipes down in useful ways, here's the breakdown for Mountain Dew Apple Dumplings:

1. Apples, the All-American fruit filled with fiber and nutrition.

2. Wrapped in pastry from a tube.

3. Covered with melted butter and refined sugar.

4. Finished off with a can of flavored high fructose corn syrup.



Mountain Dew Apple Dumplings by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

Mountain Dew Apple Dumplings

Adapted from the Pioneer Woman Cooks!

1 good-size baking apple, such as Golden Delicious or Granny Smith

1 package ( 8 oz.) crescent rolls

1 stick butter

3/4 cup sugar

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

1 can (12 oz.) Mountain Dew (you'll need one half of the can)

1. Preheat oven to 350. In a small saucepan, melt butter, then stir in sugar and vanilla. Set aside to cool.

2. Meanwhile, peel and core apple. Cut the apple into 8 equal slices and wrap each in a crescent triangle. (I'm assuming that I do not need to go into the play-play on popping open the tube, removing the dough and separating the pieces. Follow instructions on the can or here, if you need help.). Place each bundle of love into a pan coated with baking spray.

3. Pour butter and sugar mixture over the apples. Pop open the Dew and pour gently around the edges of the pan. You will only need half the can - the rest is the cook's treat. Bottoms up. Sprinkle the dumplings with a bit of cinnamon then put in the 350 oven for 40 minutes. Serve warm.

Text & images copyright 2010, Lucy Mercer.

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Food of the (Greek) Gods: Briami

Tomatoes by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

The conventional summertime cooking wisdom is to avoid heating the kitchen, instead creating salads and sandwiches that require little or no actual cooking, such as last week’s Salon Kitchen Challenge for light tomatoes. That approach leads to some fine eating, but every cook knows that the glorious tomatoes of summer sometimes need heat to turn them from nominal to nom nom phenomenal.

Enter briami, Greek roasted vegetables, a concoction of tomatoes, onions, zucchini and potatoes smothered in boo-koos of olive oil, garlic and herbs, then set in the oven to roast to umami-inducing perfection. With zukes and the sometimes addition of eggplant, this dish seems rather ratatouille-like. But that is a vegetable stew, best when the items are cooked separately then combined for a long oven braise. This dish is every bit as satisfying as ratatouille and easier to prepare - everything goes in the oven at the same time, heats up together and fills your abode with the intoxicating aroma of garlic and onion and herbs.

 

On the hottest day of the year, when it's 100+ degrees in the shade of the mimosa and the briami is in the oven, my house smells like heaven - garlic, onion, tomato and basil heaven. The smell is divine, but the best part is (naturally) eating the roasty, toasty tomatoes and vegetables, Parmesan bits and herbs. The tomatoes roast and concentrate and mingle with the oil to create a kind of sauce for the other vegetables.


This dish has many fans and I think it’s because of the combination of potatoes and fresh tomatoes, taken interplanetary with melted cheese and herbs. I use basil, but you could also employ oregano and thyme, and other tomato-friendly herbs from the garden. I'm a fan of lovage, when I can find it, which some describe as having a celery kind of taste.

The recipe is adapted from my friend Evelyn who lives in Athens, Greece, and publishes her recipes at Recipezaar. She uses Greek cheeses like kefalograviera or myzithra, but recommends Parmesan as a substitute.

Briami by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

Briami (Greek Roasted Vegetables)

 serves 4 as a side dish, two as a main 

4 medium tomatoes, diced into 1-inch pieces

2 zucchini, peeled and diced into 1-inch pieces

1 medium onion, peeled and diced into 1-inch pieces

3 medium potatoes, peeled and diced into 1-inch pieces

½ head garlic, cloves smashed

2-ounce Parmesan cheese, cut into 1/2 inch chunks

½ cup extra virgin olive oil

¼ cup water

Herbs such as basil, thyme, oregano and lovage, roughly chopped

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

1. Preheat the oven to 425º. Line an aluminum half-sheet pan with foil and spread out vegetables and chunks of cheese. Combine olive oil and water and herbs and then pour over all. Season with salt and pepper and toss until thoroughly coated. Place in oven and roast for at least an hour, stirring every so often, just to monitor that all is cooking evenly. Your house will smell unbelievably good at this point. If your windows are open, expect neighbors to drop by. Small children will ask what you're cooking and will probably beg a sample. Pets will be driven mad by the aroma of garlic.

The oil soaks up the flavorings and the water steams the vegetables. I served this over bow-tie pasta; couscous would be nice as well. If you must have protein, a white-fleshed fish simply prepared would be delicious, or maybe some leftover cold roast chicken or perhaps sausages on the grill.

Leftovers, should there be any, can be turned into breakfast (or lunch or supper) hash. Just chop the vegetables a bit, cook in some water in skillet (goodness knows, there should be enough oil left over). When it is warmed through, crack an egg or two into the bubbling mixture, cover and let fry until desired doneness. You will need to plow the lower 40 after such a meal, but it will be ever so worth it.

Text and images © 2010, Lucy Mercer.

This recipe is adapted from Evelyn/Athens Recipezaar.

Granola and a good friend

Granola by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

When I was a new mom, I knew one thing for sure: I didn't have the first clue what I was doing. So I did what sensible mommies do: I paid someone to teach me how to play with my baby. I confess here that beginning when my daughter was 5 months old and could barely sit up, I drove 45 minutes from my home to the Gymboree play program, where other new mommies took off their shoes, sat in a circle and clapped and sang and learned how to play all over again. My baby daughter didn’t make friends there, absorbing the colors and sounds and trying to avoid the screaming toddlers was consuming enough, but Gymboree was really all about the moms, and I made a keeper of a friend.

Mary Jo is the girl that everyone wants to be friends with, the leader of the nice pack. I tend to shyness in groups, but Mary Jo is the kind of girl who is everyone’s friend, and she became my first new mommy friend by giving me a compliment that I hold dear to my heart - she said I was a little bit granola. She redeemed this odd comment by saying that she was a little bit granola, too. In fact, she was a full-blown seitan-eating vegetarian. I think she said I was “granola” because my husband and I were building our house at the time (really building our house, as in “my husband comes home every afternoon from his office job, puts on his jeans, work boots, and tool belt, and builds our house.”)

Mary Jo and I spent the next couple of years dragging our babies around Atlanta - the zoo, the museums, the parks. She introduced me to her Merry Band, a lively bunch of mommies from the ‘hood, flip-flop and sunglass-wearing girls who talked about stuff I had no clue about - potty training, SUVs vs. minivans, kindergarten. It was my first taste of the mommy network that I’ve relied on ever since, the women who reach into their well of personal experiences and share.

Granola ingredients by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

When our babies grew old enough to start school, we stopped calling each other. This was before long-distance friendship was easy with Facebook. The excuses were many - she lived so far away, about an hour’s drive in dreadful traffic; she had boys (three of them!) and I had girls; her husband played golf and my husband liked to fish. We still exchange Christmas cards, hers with black and white photos of angel-faced boys. But we don’t call each other anymore.

I miss you, Mary Jo, my granola friend. You’re the reason I have a minivan and why I think of you every time I make granola. And if you read this, get on Facebook so I can watch your boys grow up.

Measure granola ingredients directly in batter bowl. By Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

Granola

I make this granola every week or two. It comes together very easily in a batter bowl that has marks on the side - no dry measuring cups needed.

1/4 cup vegetable oil
1/4 cup maple syrup
1/4 cup honey
3 cups old-fashioned oats
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
1/4 cup unsweetened shredded coconut
1/4 cup sliced almonds
1/4 cup roasted sunflower seeds

1. Preheat oven to 325. Measure oil, syrup and honey into a small saucepan and heat to a low boil; remove from heat and let cool.

2. In mixing bowl, combine dry ingredients. Add oil and syrup mixture and stir in to the dry ingredients. Spread granola mixture onto a lined sheet pan. (I use a Silpat, foil or parchment paper would work). Bake at 325 for 25 minutes (I use convection), stirring once halfway through.

3. Remove from oven and let cool. If you like chunky granola, do not stir during the cooling. If you like a crumbly texture, stir several times as it cools. Keeps well in an airtight container at room temperature.

Dried fruit by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

This granola mom likes granola with dried fruit, which should be added after the granola is baked, or the fruit will burn in the oven. A favorite breakfast or dessert is a yogurt parfait with vanilla yogurt (or plain, if you must), dried fruit and a generous handful of granola on top. This is even better in the summer when you can use sweet local blueberries instead of the dried fruit.

Granola Parfait by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

 
Text and images copyright Lucy Mercer, 2010.

Incredible, edible egg salad

Egg salad is a humble and filling concoction. It can be as simple as leftover hard-boiled eggs and a jar of Hellmann’s or, with a little finesse, a show-off sandwich spread and star of an elegant appetizer. The secret is to employ the magic of the eggs, letting eggs do double duty as the bulk of the salad and the binder, which means, in this case, making mayonnaise from scratch. Mayonnaise from scratch need hold no fear for the home cook. One fresh egg yolk, less than a cup of fresh oil, a few minutes of your time and a sturdy whisk are all it takes to make a luscious, homemade mayonnaise that will elevate your egg salad from ho-hum to va-va-va-voom.

Pay attention to the basics when making your egg salad sandwich. Eggs should be properly boiled, no mineral gray ring covering the chalky yolk; whites just set, not rubbery. Creamy mayo, but not too salty. A little kick, maybe pepper, maybe hot sauce. Onion? No way, but perhaps a hint of chive. Crunch? Celery is for sissies and potato salad. I prefer radishes for a peppery bite and crunch. The bread must be toasted, and wheat is the only way to go. The blandness of white bread offers no contrast to the creamy egg salad.

Homemade Mayonnaise

Adapted from the Gourmet Cookbook and online sources

1 very fresh egg yolk

½ teaspoon Dijon mustard

¼ teaspoon salt

¾ cup canola oil

1 ½ teaspoons lemon juice

1 teaspoon white wine vinegar

Pepper to taste

1. In a small bowl, place egg yolk, mustard and salt. Whisk until combined. Drop by drop, pour and whisk ¼ cup of the canola oil into the mixture. This will take up to 10 minutes (for me, at least). After the oil is thoroughly combined with the yolk, whisk in the vinegar and lemon juice. In a slow stream, add remaining oil. Take your time and make sure you do this right. If the mixture ever looks like it’s separating, stop pouring in oil and whisk the heck out of it, to combine. If you do this right, you will see the mixture change from dark yellow to lighter and creamier, ultimately a thick sauce, not fluffy like the stuff from the jar, but creamy and delicious, just the same.

Hard Boiled Eggs

Everyone and his dog has a recipe for perfect hard-boiled eggs. My advice is to keep trying until you find one that works for you. Here’s my method:

Start with a saucepan and insert a steamer basket (if you have it - this makes it easier to remove the eggs and also keeps them from bouncing around on the bottom of the pot). Place 6 eggs on opened basket, cover with cold water, bring to a rolling boil, cover and cook for less than a minute. Pull covered pan off the heat and turn kitchen timer to 13 minutes. Some folks say 12 minutes, some say 15. All I know is that mine were cooked perfectly at 13 minutes. Have an ice water bath nearby and plunge the cooked eggs into the cold water. When cool enough to handle, peel away the shells. Old eggs are easier to peel due to the air pocket, fresher eggs stubbornly hang on to their shells.

Egg Salad

½ cup homemade mayonnaise

6 hard-boiled eggs

Salt and pepper to taste

2 teaspoons chopped chives

thinly sliced radishes

Assemble sandwich:

1. To properly chop the eggs, I employ the same tool that I use to make a pie crust: a pastry blender. Halve the boiled eggs into a bowl and mash them up with the blender, you may also use a fork.

2. While mixing the spread, toast the wheat bread, use homemade if available.

3. Gently fold the chopped eggs into the mayonnise. Texture is what you’re after. Taste and correct seasoning. It may need more mayo for moisture or acid for contrast. Will probably definitely need pepper.

4. Spread a thin layer of mayo on bread. Then layer radishes, then egg salad. Apply lid to sandwich. Grab a good book, pull up to the counter and tuck in.

Oh, and here's the bonus: a canape: Egg Salad with Chives on Radish Rounds. How simple is this, a baby spoonful of egg salad on a sliced radish, with a sliver of chive on top?

Text & images copyright 2010, Lucy Mercer.

Lemon Pudding Love

Lemons by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

After 20 years of marriage, you think I’d know this companion, best friend, loving father of my children. A man who professes to dislike desserts because they are “too sweet,” who can turn down chocolate with a dismissive wave, cheesecake with a grimace. But now, aha! I have found a chink in his armor, an irresistible temptation - lemon pudding. Lemon pudding, satiny and creamy, lush and plush, tongue-tickling tart and eye-brightening sweet, every mouthful a citrus melody in a composition of custard.

I’ve never made the pudding specifically for my husband; it’s my firstborn daughter’s favorite. She had a rough day today, and when she got in the car after school, recounted all her grievances, then got that faraway look in her eyes and adopted a petulant tone, “Why don’t you ever make lemon pudding? You know it‘s my favorite.” And later, at home, I check the refrigerator and see that I have a bag of lemons and the organic eggs that my neighbor brought by; it’s kismet.

The recipe’s a keeper, rich with half and half (you can sub whole milk), sugar and a quartet of egg yolks. And lemon, at least four juicy lemons and their zest are required for this batch. If all goes according to plan, the pudding will not need refrigeration because it will be scarfed down while barely warm, which we all know is the proper temperature for all homemade puddings. Mr. Cosby can keep his Jell-puddings in the fridge; all their generic flavors and paintbox colors. Real pudding, the kind that mommas make for their babies (of any age), is best eaten warm from the pot it’s made in, with a big spoon.

I make lemon pudding in a double boiler, and strain in a sieve, which is the culinary equivalent of Grandpa wearing a belt and suspenders. The gentle heat of the double boiler ensures the eggs don’t scramble and the sieve makes sure that any wayward lumps, plus the fine zest, do not interfere with the supremely creamy texture of the pudding.

Back to the husband - I placed the bowl of strained pudding on the table, the curds in the strainer in the sink and went about the making of supper. Dear Husband asked what was in the sink. I said, honey it’s lemon pudding, that’s just the offal, wait for the real stuff, we‘ll have it for dessert. I snuck a look and saw him hunched over the strained lemon bits like a lion on a zebra carcass and I swear, for the love of Peter Brady and all that is holy, for a split second, my husband’s eyes rolled back in his head.

You can believe what you want to believe, but this momma’s going to be making more lemon pudding.

Lemon Pudding by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

Lemon Pudding

2-1/4 cups half and half or whole milk
¾ cup granulated sugar
¼ cup light brown sugar
1/4 cup cornstarch
4 large egg yolks
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 tablespoons finely grated lemon zest (from 2 lemons)
Pinch salt
1/2 cup fresh lemon juice (about four small lemons)
3 Tbs. unsalted butter, at room temperature (optional if using the half and half)

1. Set up a double boiler and place over medium heat. In top pan, whisk together the milk, sugars and cornstarch until smooth and not lumpy.

2. Whisk in the egg yolks, lemon zest and pinch of salt. Continue cooking, whisking frequently at first and constantly toward the end, until thickened to desired consistency, 10 to 15 minutes.

3. Remove the pan from the heat, add the lemon juice and butter (if using), and stir until incorporated. Pour through a coarse sieve into a large serving bowl and let cool to room temperature.

4. If you must refrigerate right away, cover it with plastic wrap let chill for two hours. In my home, I pour out small servings in bowls, set out spoons, and announce that pudding is ready.

Text and images copyright 2010, Lucy Mercer.