Let’s Lunch – Page 2

Rich tea in October

Your definition of “tea” largely depends on where you were raised, and perhaps how much BBC television you watched as a child.

For some, tea is a steaming mug of English Breakfast with milk and sugar sipped in a coffee house while tapping on a laptop keyboard. For others, it’s a delicate cup of matcha accompanying a platter of sushi. To some, “tea” means a decadent, mid-afternoon splurge at The Plaza, plates towering with ornate pastries, delicate cookies, and scones slathered with strawberry jam and clotted cream. And for others, it means a light early evening meal of sandwiches, cold meats, pickles, fish, and maybe a little cake.

So, when this month’s Lets’s Lunch challenge of “High Tea” was announced, my imagination ricocheted from definition to definition to definition.

Once the image of a gooey square of Millionaire’s Shortbread bounded through my brain, though, all other thoughts went out the window. Have you ever tasted this decadent wonder? A base of buttery shortbread, topped by a layer of oozy, rich caramel, covered by a final layer of chocolate? If you have, you know why I’m lamenting the fact that I made the ones pictured above some weeks ago and there are no more in the house.

If you haven’t, well, then… allow me to introduce you!

I first tasted Millionaire’s Shortbread when we visited Scotland a year ago this month. On a trip full of wonderful things, Millionaire’s Shortbread was a standout. We sampled it wherever we found it, but our favorite incarnation was served here, at The Elephant House, where JK Rowling began to write a story about The Boy Who Lived.

I’m sure someone sells these treats in our part of the planet, but I haven’t seen them in any bakery windows near me. So I decided to learn how to make them myself. Fortunately, they are blindingly simple to make (which is a good thing considering how quickly they disappear). They are particularly easy if you have a source of ready-made caramel sauce (many grocery and specialty food shops sell dulce de leche in jars), but making your own caramel sauce isn’t hard at all (you can see an easy recipe here, among many other places).

This morning there was frost on the ground and a thin layer of ice on the water buckets in the barn. I have a fire going now, and the caramel-colored dog has rolled himself into a tight donut beside it. I have a mug of black, black tea sweetened with honey. Although I don’t have any Millionaire’s Shortbread in the larder, I’m planning on sharing tea today with my fellow Let’s Lunchers. I can’t wait to see what they bring to the table!

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Won’t you take tea with us? Here’s what the rest of the Let’s Lunchers have cooked up for you:

Little Lemon Meringue Tarts ~ from Lisa at Monday Morning Cooking Club
Lemon-Lime Shortbread cookies, Apple-Cheddar Scones, and making High Tea work in real life ~ from Steff at The Kitchen Trials
Ginger Tea and Kaya Toast ~ from Linda at spicebox travels
Tea with Spiced Chickpea and Sweet Potato Tidbits ~ from Rashda at Hot Curries & Cold Beer
Welsh Rarebit ~ from Patrick at Patrick G. Lee
Sweet Potato Tea Bars ~ from Cathy at Showfood Chef
Egg Salad Tea Sandwiches ~ from Charissa at Zest Bakery
Taiwanese Sandwiches ~ from Grace at HapaMama
Cheese & Onion Sarnie ~ from Cheryl at A Tiger in the Kitchen
Brown Sugar Shortbreads ~ from Emma at Dreaming of Pots and Pans
Mesquite Hemp Cocoa ~ from Linda at Free Range Cookies
Saskatoon Berry Tartlets ~ from Karen at GeoFooding
Cougar Gold and Shallot Shortbread ~ from Mai at Cooking in the Fruit Bowl

Millionaire’s Shortbread

(Adapted from Millionaire’s Shortbread at Food52)

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
t tablespoons sugar
1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter at room temperature, cut into small pieces

1 cup cajeta, dulce-de-leche, or other caramel sauce (I use David Lebovitz’ recipe for goat-milk cajeta in his terrific ice cream book, The Perfect Scoop. If you are making your own cajeta or dulce-de-leche, make it before you make the shortbread.)

4 ounces semi-sweet chocolate
1/2 cup cream, half-and-half, or milk (I used whole goat milk)

Method

With a rack in the center of the oven, preheat to 350°F.
Put the flour and salt in a bowl and blend with a whisk.
Whisk in the sugar
Add the butter and stir with a fork until just combined, forming a soft dough.
Gently pat the dough into a 9-inch square baking pan. Don’t press hard. Small holes and gaps are fine.
Bake for about 25 minutes, until it is just turning slightly golden and the surface looks dry.
Allow the shortbread to cool while you prepare the other ingredients.
If the caramel is cold, warm it gently in a double-boiler, hot-water bath, or microwave oven until it is pourable.
Pour the caramel over the shortbread base, tipping the pan to spread the caramel evenly.
Refrigerate the shortbread and caramel while you make the chocolate layer.
In a small saucepan, bring the cream or milk to a boil.
Remove from the heat, add the chocolate, and stir or whisk until the chocolate is smooth and shiny. This will take only a minute or so.
Allow the chocolate to cool for a few minutes, remove the shortbread pan from the refrigerator, and then pour the chocolate mixture over the caramel layer, tipping the pan to spread the chocolate evenly.
Refrigerate for at least 3 hours, then cut and serve.

Lamb and memory

When the Lets’s Lunch gang proposed that we make a cold entrée for this month’s lunch date, the first ideas to flash into my mind were gazpacho, cured salmon, dolmas, and chilled sesame noodles. All perfect for a hot summer night when turning on the oven is about as appealing as donning a parka in a sauna.

And then I remembered a mid-summer afternoon years ago, a picnic with dear friends outside the newly opened Seiji Ozawa Hall at Tanglewood. It was a decadently lazy day. We lounged on blankets, supine, with the sun on our faces and gorgeous music drifting out of the hall’s wide open shed doors.

We chatted, we laughed, we listened, we ate. We had not a care in the world beyond what tidbit to snack on next, or whether we should open another bottle of wine now or later. We were the luckiest people on the planet and, even at that moment, we knew it. We knew it was one of those afternoons that would never be repeated and we were blessed to be living it then, together.

I thought I had locked away every detail of that long summer afternoon into my memory, but I find now that neither M nor I can remember the music that was playing, though at the time it took my breath away. My brain stem remembers it as a Brahams piece, but which?

Here’s what I didn’t forget: the taste of the lamb chops I had made the day before, then chilled overnight. I’d made the recipe several times before and always served it hot. What inspired me to make it as a cold dish? I’m afraid I can’t remember that either. Where did I get the recipe? That is also gone. How much else have I lost? I’m afraid to know.

But here’s the beautiful thing about food: When I made this dish for our communal, virtual lunch this month, as soon as I smelled that garlic, mustard, rosemary salve, my memory turned right back to that summer day, the lush lawn and the lazy listeners. Taste and scent. We don’t forget those.

Though this recipe starts out hot, the cooking time is brief and there’s precious little to do in preparation. Put your favorite music on the stereo. Mince some rosemary and garlic, mix with cornmeal, salt and pepper. Briefly sear the rack of lamb on a hot, dry skillet to caramelize it, slather it with mustard, apply the cornmeal mixture, and slide it into a pre-heated oven.

While it cooks for half an hour, go sit on the porch and watch the afternoon float by for awhile. There’s not enough time to really do anything useful, so why not watch the clouds? Or listen to a favorite song five times. Or throw the ball for the dog, because summer only lasts so long.

When the timer beeps, pull the lamb out of the oven and just let it cool. Slice it whenever you get to it. You can eat it warm if you like, but if it’s a hot August day, put it in the fridge to chill, then serve it later that night, with chilled, barely cooked green beans, and maybe some slices of tomato with mozzarella and balsamic. And wine. Oh yes, for goodness’ sake, don’t forget the wine.

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Summer still has some time left to spend with us. If you want other ideas for cold entrées, take a look at what the other Let’s Lunchers have prepared for you:

Byron Sprout Salad with chargrilled chicken ~ from Lisa at Monday Morning Cooking Club

Cold noodles with stir-fried vegetables, hoisin pork, and spicy shrimp ~ from Eleanor at Be a Wok Star

Strawberry soup ~ from Mai at Cooking in the Fruit Bowl

Gazpacho rolls ~ from Linda at Free Range Cookies

Seafood Napoleon and Cold Olive Oil Poached Chicken Salad ~ from Victor and Charles at The Taste of Oregon

Spicy Sichuan Sesame Noodles ~ from Cheryl at A Tiger in the Kitchen

Croque Monsieur with Cheese Bechamel ~ from Maria at Maria’s Good Things

Jasmin Tea Poached Shrimp Summer Rolls ~ from Cathy at ShowFood Chef

Gazpacho with an Indian Twist ~ from Rashda at Hot Curries & Cold Beer

Cous Cous with Cilantro Pesto and Halloumi ~ from Danielle at Beyond the Plate

Korean Ice Water Noodles (mul naengmyun) ~ from Emma at Dreaming of Pots and Pans

Smoked salmon BLT with dill-horseradish aioli ~ from Charissa at Zest Bakery & Deli

Rack of Lamb with Mustard and Rosemary

Ingredients

Rack of lamb (approximately 8 ribs)
6 tablespoons cornmeal (I use coarse cornmeal, labeled as “polenta,” but any will do)
3 teaspoons minced, fresh rosemary leaves
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
Ground black pepper, to taste
3-4 tablespoons Dijon mustard, or whatever mustard strikes your fancy

Method

Preheat oven to 400°F.
Combine cornmeal, minced rosemary, minced garlic, salt, and pepper in a small bowl.
Heat a skillet and then sear the rack on all sides until nicely browned (a couple minutes per side).
Transfer the rack (fat side up) to an ovenproof pan or dish.
Brush the fat side of the rack with mustard, then coat the mustard with as much of the cornmeal mixture as will adhere.
Bake the rack for 30-40 minutes, until desired doneness.
Allow to cool slightly, then slice chops apart.
In warm weather, refrigerate sliced chops and serve cold. In cold weather, serve immediately.

Pie! Spanakopita and rhubarb crisp

I woke up feeling a bit giddy this morning.

It’s not just that it’s Friday, or that the sun is shining and the temperature is perfect, though all of that could explain it easily enough. I think it was because I knew I’d get to spend the first part of my morning writing here, hanging out with you, and participating in my very first Let’s Lunch! That’s a nice way to end the week, don’t you think?

For those of you who don’t know about it already, the Let’s Lunch group hosts a virtual potluck lunch once a month. The group chooses a lunch theme and then the participants post their interpretation of that theme on their blogs on the same appointed day. I know! Isn’t that cool?!

The theme for this month’s lunch is “pie”, sweet or savory (or both).

Sometime right around the time the theme was chosen, M and I were messing around with making goat-milk feta, so it didn’t take me long to settle on making a spinach pie with feta. Our fridge was bursting with feta and the farm stand was bursting with spinach and scallions.

I wanted to make this spinach pie a bit “goaty”, so I added some home-made chevre to the recipe on top of the goat-milk feta. I don’t think it affected the flavor much (not as much as I’d hoped), but it did make the filling extra creamy and luscious. If you don’t like goat flavor, by all means, use sheep- or cow- milk feta and omit the chevre. Or try adding a few ounces of crème fraiche, marscapone or other soft, spreadable cheese to get that creamy texture.

The process for making spanakopita is mostly very simple: wilt the spinach either by stirring in a hot pan or blanching briefly in boiling water (you can even use a package of defrosted, chopped frozen spinach if you’re in a pinch); saute the scallions in a little olive oil for a few minutes to bring out the fragrant flavors; then mix the greens (spinach, scallions, chopped dill, chopped parsley) together with the cheeses, a couple of lightly-beaten eggs, a little salt and a touch of nutmeg or any other spices you like.

The one semi-tricky part of making spanakopita is handling the phyllo, but as I keep re-learning, the best way to deal with phyllo (and most other things) is to be patient with yourself and just relax about it all.

There are all sorts of tips out there for handling phyllo to keep it from drying out, and for working really quickly, and for getting really smooth layers. All I can say is that when I relax and don’t worry about it, it works out just fine. If it rips, so what? A typical package comes with many more sheets than you’ll need for one pie; don’t stress about tossing a few if you have to. Anyway, once you layer the sheets down and brush with olive oil, cover it with spinach and cheese, and bake it, it all comes out flaky and delicious, rips or no rips. That said, I included a link in the recipe (at the end of this post) for a video that shows one way to handle the phyllo with ease.

I had originally planned to just make the one pie, but it’s rhubarb season around here and I couldn’t resist making my favorite rhubarb crisp recipe, which is so easy and perfect, I really could make it every night while the rhubarb lasts.

This is a rhubarb-only crisp, but you can certainly add strawberries if you like. I used to make it with strawberries, but once, when our rhubarb crop exceeded our strawberry balance, I tried the rhubarb on its own and discovered that I loved it that way.

You can assemble this crisp while the spanakopita is baking, then throw it in the oven when the spanakopita comes out and you’ll have a warm, fresh crisp ready for dessert.

For this recipe (in detail at the end of this post), all you need to do is wash, dry and chop the rhubarb into small pieces, and toss it with some sugar; in a separate bowl, mix up the topping (flour, brown sugar, ground ginger, butter).

Assemble the crisp by putting the sugared rhubarb in a baking dish (or in ramekins, as I did), sprinkling on the topping, and then baking for about 40 minutes.

Because we are crazy goat people, I topped mine with a little goat-milk gelato, but the crisp is just fine on its own. It makes a pretty nice breakfast, too.

Thank you, Let’s Lunch friends, for inviting me into your group and giving me a great excuse to make pie! I love the idea of this group. The only flaw I see in the concept is that the lunch is virtual. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could all meet on a tree-shaded hillside on a warm summer day, lay all our pies out on long wooden tables, and taste a slice of each in person while we gossiped, sipped wine, and watched the children and dogs play? *sigh*

Maybe someday.

For now, readers, you can join in the virtual lunch by making your own pie. For inspiration, take a look at the pies my fellow Lunchers have made for today:

Pilaf pie with chicken, sultanas and sweet spices ~ from Lisa at Monday Morning Cooking Club
Japanese curry pot pie ~ from Cheryl at A Tiger in the Kitchen
Lime custard n curd pie ~ from Charissa at Zest Bakery
Nutella hand pies ~ from Cathy at Showfood Chef
Dirt pie with compost cookie crust ~ from Linda at Free Range Cookies
Pecan pie ~ from Rashda at Hot Curries & Cold Beer
Summer chicken pot pie ~ from Denise at Chez Us
Three Recipe Lemon Meringue pie ~ from Mai at Cooking in the Fruit Bowl
Maine Summer Strawberry Rhubarb Pie with Lemon/Lime Ice cream
~ from Caitlin at Caitlin Shetterly
Chicken Pot Pie ~ from Danielle at Beyond the Plate
Chinese sausage and roasted sweet potato hand pies ~ from Emma at Dreaming of Pots and Pans
Berry-Lemonade Icebox Pie ~ from Steff at The Kitchen Trials

Spanakopita

(Adapted from “Greek Spinach & Feta Pie”, by Susanna Hoffman, Fine Cooking Magazine)

Ingredients

2 pounds fresh spinach, washed, dried, trimmed, and coarsely chopped
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus approx. 1/3 cup for brushing on phyllo
1 bunch scallions (approx 3 oz.), white and light-green parts only, trimmed and finely chopped
10 oz. crumbled feta cheese OR 7 ounces crumbled goats’ milk feta cheese and 3 ounces chevre
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1/2 cup finely chopped fresh dill
1/2 cup finely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon kosher or sea salt
Frozen phyllo dough sheets (9×14-inch), thawed and at room temperature

Method

Position a rack in the center of the oven and pre-heat to 375°F.
Wilt spinach by heating a large saute pan over medium-high heat, adding a few handfuls of spinach at a time, and cook while tossing gently with tongs. Continue adding handfuls of spinach until all of the spinach is wilted and bright green, about 3-5 minutes.
Use a slotted spoon to transfer the spinach to a colander set in a sink. Let the spinach drain and cool slightly, then use your hands or the spoon to squeeze out as much liquid as you can.
Wipe the pan dry with a paper towel, then heat the 3 Tbs olive oil in the pan over medium heat.
Add the scallions and cook until they are soft, about four minutes.
Add the spinach to the scallions, mix, and cook, stirring, for about 30 seconds. Transfer mixture to a medium-sized mixing bowl and let cool for five minutes.
Add remaining ingredients (cheeses, eggs, dill, parsley, nutmeg, and salt) and mix thoroughly.
Use a pastry brush to lightly coat the bottom and sides of a 9x13x2-inch baking pan with olive oil.
Line the bottom and sides of the pan with several sheets of phyllo, brushing olive oil on each sheet of phyllo before placing the next one on top. For a nice demonstration of how to line the pan with phyllo, see this video on YouTube.
Spread the filling evenly over the phyllo.
Repeat the oiling and layering of several more phyllo sheets to cover the top of the pie.
Brush the top of the last sheet with olive oil
Bake the spanakopita until the top crust is puffed up and golden, about 40 minutes.
Let cool before cutting with a sharp knife.

Rhubarb crisp

(Adapted from “An American Place”, by Larry Forgione)
For the filling

1 pound rhubarb, trimmed, washed, dried, and cut into 1/3-inch pieces
1/2 cup sugar

For the topping

1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1 teaspoon ground ginger
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces and slightly softened

Method

Preheat the oven to 375°F.
Place the rhubarb pieces in a bowl, add the sugar, and toss well. Let sit for 20 minutes, until the rhubarb starts to release some liquid.
While you wait for the rhubarb, combine all the topping ingredients in a small bowl and gently mix with your fingertips until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.
Divide the rhubarb mixture evenly into eight 1 1/2 x 3–inch diameter ramekins.
Sprinkle the topping evenly over the fruit-filled ramekins.
Place the ramekins on a cookie sheet for easy transfer to/from the oven.
Bake for 40 minutes, or until the topping is golden and the filling is bubbling.
Serve warm or at room temperature.