¼ cup light brown sugar, loosely packed
¼ cup chopped walnuts
¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
¼ teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon lemon juice
5 large sheets phyllo dough (14 x 18 inches)
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1 teaspoon sugar
1 tablespoon confectioners’ sugar
Preheat the oven to 475 degrees F. Lightly butter a baking sheet.
Place the apples, raisins, breadcrumbs, brown sugar, walnuts, cinnamon, salt, and lemon juice in a medium bowl and toss to coat evenly.
Lay out one sheet of phyllo dough and brush with butter. Top with a second sheet of phyllo dough and brush with butter. Repeat with the remaining phyllo and butter, creating a stack of five sheets of phyllo and ending with butter. (You will have a little bit of butter remaining.)
Arrange the apples in a strip about one-third up from the bottom, leaving about 2 inches on either end. Lift the bottom of the phyllo over the top of the apples. Fold in the sides, and continue to roll up the apples tightly.
Place the strudel, seam side down, on the prepared baking sheet. Brush the top with the remaining butter and sprinkle with granulated sugar. Transfer to the oven and bake until golden brown, about 15 minutes. Cool to room temperature. Sprinkle with confectioners’ sugar before serving.
Bûche de Noël
Serves 8 to 10
For the cake:
2/3 cup all-purpose flour
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking powder
6 large eggs
¾ cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
For the filling and frosting:
1¼ cups (2½ sticks) unsalted butter, softened
3 cups confectioners’ sugar
2 tablespoons milk
4 ounces semisweet chocolate, melted
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
2 tablespoons instant coffee powder
To make the cake: Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease an 11 x 17-inch jelly-roll pan, line with parchment paper or aluminum foil, and grease and flour the paper.
Place the flour, cocoa powder, and baking powder in a medium bowl and mix to combine.
Place the eggs, sugar, and vanilla in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a whisk and mix on high speed until pale and fluffy, 3 minutes. Reduce the speed to low and slowly add the flour mixture. Mix until just combined.
Pour the batter into the prepared jelly-roll pan, taking care to spread the batter into all corners of the pan. Bake until the surface springs back when poked with your finger and a toothpick inserted in the center of the cake comes out clean, 15 to 20 minutes. Run a knife along the perimeter of the pan and immediately turn the cake out onto a rack covered with a clean dish towel. Set aside to cool while you prepare the buttercream.
To make the filling and frosting: Place the butter in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle and mix on high speed until fluffy. Reduce the speed to low and slowly add the confectioners’ sugar, mixing until just combined. Remove half of the buttercream and set aside.
Add 1 tablespoon milk, the melted chocolate, and vanilla to the remaining buttercream and mix to combine. Transfer to a bowl, cover, and refrigerate. Place the remaining 1 tablespoon of milk in the microwave for 10 to 15 seconds until warm and stir in instant coffee until dissolved.
Return the remaining buttercream to the mixing bowl. Add the coffee mixture and mix until just combined.
Place the cake on the dish towel on a hard surface (like the counter) and trim ¼ inch from each side of the cake (the edges tend to be dry).
Arrange the cake so that a long side is directly in front of you. Spread the coffee buttercream in an even layer over the cake, going right up to the edges on three sides—the long side directly in front of you and the two short sides—but only to within 1 inch of the top. Gently roll the cake, using the dish towel to lift and your fingers to tuck the edge. Roll the cake completely, ending with the seam side down. Use the dish towel to help press the cake into an even roll. Remove the dish towel and refrigerate the cake, covered, at least 1 hour.
Place the roulade on a serving plate and frost with the chocolate buttercream; reserve about ½ cup for touch-ups. Cut off a 3-inch piece from one end at a 45-degree angle. Cut off a thin slice from the other end so it is at the same angle; eat or discard the thin slice. Attach the 3-inch piece, flat side down, on top of the roulade in the center. Press down slightly to adhere it to the cake. Using the reserved buttercream, frost the empty side of the “stump” on top of the “log.” Using a fork, gently trace lines in the buttercream so that it resembles a log.
Cover and refrigerate at least 1 hour and up to 2 days.
Christmas Cocoa
Yield: about 8 cups
½ cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/3 cup sugar, or more if desired
2 cups heavy cream
6 cups whole milk
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
Candy canes, for stirring
Place the cocoa powder, sugar, and cream in a saucepan and cook, whisking, over low heat and until the cocoa has been incorporated. Slowly add the milk and vanilla and heat until warmed throughout, whisking all the while. Serve immediately in heated cups, garnished with candy canes.
CHAPTER NINE
Happy New Year
Anna hung the Christmas apron in the hall closet and helped Sylvia pack the others in a box already half-full of placemats and napkin rings. She wasn’t sure what Sylvia intended to do with her great-aunt Lydia’s collection, but she could tell from the older woman’s expression that she was conflicted. The aprons had been worn past their usefulness, and yet they held too much sentimental value to be thrown away.
Anna carried the box into the banquet hall and placed it on the floor alongside the others, wondering if the aprons really belonged among the items they intended to store in the new cabinets. But where else would Sylvia put them? In the attic with the scores of other possessions Bergstroms of generations past had been unable to part with? No, the aprons belonged in the kitchen, but it would be a shame to hide them in a high cupboard, out of sight and out of mind once again.
When Anna returned to the kitchen, she found Sylvia tugging hard on the handle to a drawer that would not budge. “It’s jammed,” Sylvia said, exasperated, as Anna came over to help. “I tried to push the obstruction aside with a spatula, but I couldn’t find whatever’s wedged the drawer shut.”
“Maybe it caught on something and it slipped underneath.” Anna found the spatula on the counter and knelt down to peer beneath the drawer. Sure enough, a dark shape blocked the right-hand glide, but a few taps of the spatula moved it out of the way. Anna pulled out the entire drawer and set it on the floor as Sylvia reached inside and removed what appeared at first glance to be a small stack of paper.
As Sylvia shuffled through the pieces, each about the size of an index card, her eyes widened in amazement. “Oh, my goodness. This is Lucinda’s handwriting.”
All at once, Anna knew what Sylvia had discovered. “Old family recipes?”
“It certainly appears so. Look here.” Triumphant, Sylvia held up a single card. “Feuerzangenbowle. Red wine, lemon, orange, cinnamon, allspice, cardamom—oh, I can smell the citrus and spices even now. I can see my father stirring the kettle over the fire, the steam rising, our guests gathering around eagerly waiting for a sip.”
“You’ll have to translate for me,” said Anna, taking the card Sylvia held out to her.
“Feuerzangenbowle literally means ‘fire tongs punch,’” Sylvia explained. “It’s a traditional German beverage my family served on New Year’s Eve. As the ingredients brewed over the fire, my father would soak a Zuckerhut—that’s a cone of sugar, but, of course, a chef would know that—in rum, set it afire, and let the caramelized sugar drip into the punch.” Sylvia eagerly read the next card. “Pfannkuchen. Pork roasted with apples. Saue
rkraut.” She quickly skimmed through the rest of the cards. “I can’t believe it. All of our family’s favorite traditional New Year’s dishes.” She shook her head, perplexed. “But why these recipes, out of all our family favorites?”
“Maybe Lucinda made a New Year’s resolution to abandon the family tradition of not writing down recipes,” Anna suggested, smiling. “Or maybe she assumed everyone would remember how to make the everyday meals, but would forget those you served only once a year.”
“Perhaps, but then again—” Sylvia removed her glasses, gazed thoughtfully at the dilapidated stove for a moment, and put her glasses on again. “We ate pork with apples as well as sauerkraut throughout the year. We made a point to eat them on New Year’s Day, of course, for good luck, but we did eat them at other times.”
“Pork and sauerkraut were considered good luck?” Anna asked. “I would have been in for a rough year, then. I’m not a big fan of sauerkraut.”
“Only because you haven’t tried the Bergstrom family recipe.” Smiling, Sylvia flourished a yellowed card covered on both sides with backward slanted handwriting. Lucinda had apparently been a leftie. “If you sat down to dinner with us on New Year’s Day, we would have teased and cajoled you into taking at least a tiny bite. Germans consider pigs to be good luck, Lucinda always told us children, because a farm family who had a pig to feed them through the long, cold winter was fortunate indeed. Cabbage leaves represented money, so a meal of pork and sauerkraut on New Year’s Day would guarantee good fortune throughout the coming year.”
“Guarantee, you think?”
“Well, perhaps not guarantee, but it couldn’t hurt.” Sylvia flipped through the cards once more, shaking her head as if she still couldn’t believe her eyes. “Ah. Lentil soup. My sister and I loved the hint of oregano and red wine.”
“Eating lentils on New Year’s Day is an Italian tradition,” said Anna, surprised that a family so passionate about its German heritage had shared the custom. “My grandmother insisted that eating lentils would ensure good luck and prosperity throughout the New Year.”
“Naturally,” said Sylvia. “Since lentils are round, like coins, eating them will obviously bring one riches in the coming year.”
“Obviously,” Anna agreed wryly. “Now if only someone would invent a food shaped like a winning lottery ticket. And another shaped like world peace.”
“If only it were that easy.” Sylvia fell silent as she read each card in turn. She seemed to be savoring her great-aunt’s handwriting as if the written words were as flavorful as the dishes they described. Then she sighed, arranged the cards in a neat pile, and set them on the counter. “I always feel such a curious play of emotions at the turning of the year. We celebrate and hope and anticipate, of course, as we look forward to a fresh start, a new beginning, and we resolve to improve ourselves and change for the better. At the same time, I’ve always sensed a small undercurrent of apprehension, because none of us knows for certain what the New Year will bring.”
“That might account for all the superstitions about luck in the New Year,” Anna said. “We eat particular foods or observe certain rites to help ward off bad luck and bring good fortune.” She gestured to the recipe cards. “Maybe that’s why your great-aunt finally wrote down these recipes. Maybe she wanted to pass along some good luck to her descendants.”
“Not Lucinda. She wasn’t the slightest bit superstitious. My grandmother Elizabeth was the one who never met a superstition she didn’t embrace.” Sylvia smiled at the memory. “No, I suspect Lucinda wanted to preserve our family recipes so that her nieces and nephews could one day re-create the flavors of our childhood and thus always remember how joyfully our family welcomed the New Year. That’s how the New Year should begin—with happiness and celebration, affection and good cheer, so we may move into the future with courage and hope, knowing that love will sustain us through whatever comes.”
And now, thanks to the foresight of Great-Aunt Lucinda, Sylvia could re-create those cherished New Year’s dishes of celebrations long past. Or, Anna thought, a friend who loved to cook could create them for her.
When Sylvia’s back was turned, Anna tucked the cards carefully into a box of silverware so they would not be misplaced again. Come New Year’s Eve, she would need them.
Lentil Soup
Yield: 10 to 12 cups
1 cup brown lentils, picked over and rinsed
1 carrot, peeled and sliced
2 celery stalks, including leaves, sliced
1 small red onion, chopped
1 teaspoon dried Greek oregano
¼ cup barley
10 to 12 cups low-sodium chicken, beef, or vegetable broth
One 14.5-ounce can whole peeled tomatoes, coarsely chopped
¼ cup dry red wine
Kosher salt and black pepper
Lemon quarters, for garnish
Fresh Italian flat-leaf parsley or basil leaves, for garnish
Place the lentils, carrot, celery, onion, oregano, barley and broth in a heavy-bottomed saucepot or stockpot and bring to a boil over high heat.
Lower the heat and simmer, uncovered, until the soup has thickened and reduced by about one-quarter, about 2 hours.
Add the tomatoes and wine, stir, and continue cooking for 1 to 2 hours. Add salt and pepper to taste.
Transfer to a container, cover and refrigerate at least overnight and up to 3 days.
Place in a pot and gently reheat. Garnish with lemon wedges and fresh herbs.
Parmesan Puffs
Serves 6 to 8
½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese
½ teaspoon kosher salt
Place all the ingredients in a food processor and pulse until it forms a dough. Transfer the dough onto a piece of parchment paper and form it into a log about 2 inches in diameter. Wrap in the parchment and then in plastic. Refrigerate at least 2 hours and up to 1 week.
Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F. Lightly butter a baking sheet.
Cut the log into ¼-inch-thick rounds. Place them about 1-inch apart on the baking sheet and bake for 10 minutes. Raise the heat to 500 degrees and bake until they are golden brown, about 5 additional minutes.
Arugula and Orange Salad
Serves 6
For the dressing:
2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese
¼ cup olive oil
¼ cup balsamic vinegar
For the salad:
2 bunches arugula, torn
1 head romaine, torn into bite-size pieces
2 celery stalks, peeled and thinly sliced
1 orange, peeled, sectioned, and seeded, then diced
To make the dressing: Place the Parmesan, olive oil, and balsamic vinegar in a small bowl and whisk to combine.
To make the salad: Place the arugula, romaine, celery, and orange in a serving bowl and drizzle with the dressing. Serve immediately.
Pork Roasted with Apples
Serves 6
For the brine:
¼ cup boiling water
2 tablespoons kosher salt
1½ to 2 cups apple cider
1 tablespoon coarsely ground black pepper
1 sprig fresh rosemary
1 bay leaf
1 teaspoon fennel seeds
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 pork loin, 2 to 2½ pounds, tied by your butcher
For the apples:
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 large onions, halved and then sliced
1 fennel, quartered, cored, and then sliced
2 large apples, peeled, cored, quartered, and then sliced
1 teaspoon dried thyme
1 cup apple cider
Up to ½ cup water
Kosher salt
2 tablespoons olive oil
To make the brine: Place the salt and water in a large bowl and mix until the salt has dissolved. Add the remaining ingredie
nts, including the pork, then cover and refrigerate at least 1 day and up to 3. Remove the pork and wrap it in paper towels—to dry it out. Refrigerate until ready to use.
To make the apples: Place the butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat and when it has melted, add the onions. Cook until they start to brown a bit, about 10 minutes. Add the fennel, apples, and thyme and cook until they just start to color and soften, about 10 minutes. Add the cider, then cover and cook until the mixture thickens and is completely softened, about 10 minutes. If it dries out too much, add up to ½ cup water.
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.
To cook the pork: Sprinkle generously with the salt. Place a large skillet over medium-high heat and when it is hot, add the oil. Add the pork and cook until well browned on all sides, about 8 minutes. Transfer to the oven and cook until the internal temperature reaches 150 degrees F. Set aside for 10 minutes and then serve, with the apples on the side.
Sauerkraut
Serves 8
2 pounds sauerkraut, rinsed and drained
12 ounces lager-style beer
1 cup chicken broth
¼ cup light brown sugar, loosely packed
¾ teaspoon caraway seeds
Kosher salt and black pepper
Place all the ingredients in a medium saucepan and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat to low and simmer 30 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
Scalloped Potatoes with Carrots
Serves 6 to 8
¾ cup heavy cream
¾ cup whole milk
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 garlic clove, minced
Pinch of black pepper
Pinch of ground nutmeg
1¾ to 2 pounds new potatoes, cut in 1/8-inch slices
2 carrots, cut in 1/8-inch slices
¼ cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly butter a gratin dish or an 8 x 8-inch pan.
Place the cream, milk, salt, garlic, pepper, and nutmeg in a small saucepan and bring to a low boil. Reduce the heat to low and cook until slightly thickened, 3 to 5 minutes. Place the potatoes and carrots in the buttered dish and pour the hot cream over them. Press down with the back of a spoon.
Elm Creek Quilts [13] The Quilter's Kitchen Page 10
