Quince Marmalade and Quince Jelly

Made with apple-shaped quince that was shredded and slow-cooked, this marmalade is delicious. Quince starts out yellow, with drab flesh that needs to be doused in lemon quickly to avoid browning. It then magically transforms into a beautiful, glistening rose-colored substance. I adapted this recipe from David Lebovitz’s cookbook Ready for Dessert. He in turn got it from Helen Witty’s Fancy Pantry.

The addition of the lemon to the pot probably increases the setting of the natural pectin of the quince so I wouldn’t omit that step. The marmalade took about an hour and a half to reduce and set, so in the future I might either reduce the volume of simple syrup or use a 1:1 ratio of sugar to water. As it was, I used 1½ pounds of quince compared to David’s pound, so I already got some reduction in the proportion of syrup to fruit. I can imagine this with cheese and crackers or lining a tart or filling a cookie, or spooned alongside some roasted roots.

Since the quince marmalade calls for peeling and coring the fruit, I put the scraps to good use by adding them to a batch of quince jelly, which uses the whole fruit.

Quince Marmalade adapted from David Lebovitz, Ready for Dessert

4 c water

3 c sugar

1 lemon, juiced, hulls reserved

3 large or 2 medium apple quinces

Bring the water and sugar to a boil to make simple syrup. Peel, core and quarter the quince and grate them into a large shallow bowl containing the lemon juice. Quickly add them to the boiling syrup. Add the lemon hulls to the pot and turn the heat down so that the mixture is bubbling somewhere between a simmer and a gentle boil. Cook until you get a gel (220 degrees on a candy thermometer or use the wrinkle test by dropping some marmalade on a frozen plate). Spoon into prepared hot canning jars and process in a water bath canner for 10 minutes after the water returns to a boil. Remove the lid, turn off the heat and let sit for 5 minutes, and then remove the jars to a spot where they can sit undisturbed until cool. Alternatively, store the marmalade in the refrigerator and use within 6 months.  Makes 4 eight-ounce jars or 8 four-ounce jars.

Quince Jelly

3 c water (or more, see note)

1 lemon juiced, hulls reserved

3 apple quinces

Optional: Quince scraps from the quince marmalade

Sugar

Add the lemon juice and hulls to the water. Chop the quince (skins, cores and all) and add to the water along with the quince scraps (actually, you should have the acidulated water ready for the scraps since quince browns very quickly). Make sure the water covers the fruit. Bring to a boil, lower the heat and cook slowly until tender. Carefully transfer the mixture to a jelly bag suspended over a bowl and let drain overnight, or for at least 4 hours until it stops dripping.

Measure the liquid mixture and add ¾ cup sugar to each cup of liquid. And bring to a boil. Cook until you get a gel (220 degrees on a candy thermometer or use the wrinkle test by dropping some jelly on a frozen plate). Spoon into prepared hot canning jars and process in a water bath canner for 10 minutes after the water returns to a boil. Remove the lid, turn off the heat and let sit for 5 minutes, and then remove the jars to a spot where they can sit undisturbed until cool. Alternatively, store the marmalade in the refrigerator and use within 6 months.  Makes 3-4 eight-ounce jars or 6-8 four-ounce jars.

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Festive Roots: Rutabagas with Pomegranate Seeds and Pink Peppercorns

At this time of year, I seek out ways to make ordinary food more festive.  The other night we had a local organic rutabaga mashed with a little creamy yellow potato and garnished it with crushed pink peppercorns and pomegranate seeds. Pink peppercorns are not related to the black ones we usually use. They are actually the dried fruit (or seeds?) of a Brazilian plant. Sweet, fruity and slightly spicy flavor, their papery hulls are aromatic and flavorful, adding a little spark to the roots. The pomegranate seeds were a terrific counterpart, giving a very different texture and a complementary burst of flavor. My photo’s awful but the combination of tastes was memorable.

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Dark Days Week 4: Collard Greens Timbale

This simple and satisfying supper features sturdy collard greens and stems suspended in a savory custard. The custardy mixture was surrounded by bright orange carrots and served with a salad of local escarole and dill. Unlike the long-stewed collard greens common to Southern cooking, this dish cooks collard stems with onions just until tender and then adds the greens, cut into ribbons. Cooked to an al dente consistency, the collards give the custard a lot of body and spunky flavor. Since this contains milk, cream and cheese, I cook the collards and onions in butter, which presented a new Dark Days Challenge: find a local source of organic butter or make my own. I did find a source about 60 miles away, but I am now committed to make my own butter from the excellent organic cream that’s available locally.  Next time.

We eat primarily vegetarian suppers at least half the week, and this is one of our standbys. The collards and carrots came from our CSA. I harvested the collards myself during the final gleaning of the fields and have a few bunches that will last us for nearly another month. I saved the greens from the carrots and used them instead of parsley.  I sometimes have added bits of smoked ham to the custard. You could serve sausage on the side but this is so rich that it isn’t necessary. The carrots and salad actually help cleanse the palate.

Since this timbale takes nearly 1½ hours to assemble and bake (1+ hour of baking and resting time) I usually make the collards in advance. The recipe came from Bert Greene’s cookbook Greene on Greens, which inspires me every time I read it, though I find that his food is too rich for today’s times so I usually simplify it, for example reversing the amount of cream and milk,  cutting the butter by three-quarters, and omitting the bread crumbs.  He suggests that this could also be made with chard.

Timbale of Collard Greens adapted from Bert Greene

1 bunch of collard greens (8+ leaves)

1 small onion, chopped

1 tbsp butter

Salt and pepper

5 eggs

½ c milk

¼ heavy cream

½ c grated Swiss-type cheese (I used a nutty local toma)

Optional: 2/3 c fresh breadcrumbs

Optional: 2-3 tsp chopped fresh dill or a little grated nutmeg

Slice the stems of the collards from the leaves. Chop the stems into ½-inch pieces and the leaves cross-wise into ½-inch ribbons.

Melt the butter in a large pan and add the onions, cooking over medium heat for about 2 minutes or until they begin to look translucent.  Add the collard stems and cook, covered until tender, about 10-15 minutes. (This will vary by the age of the collards. Mine were fresh and cooked in about 8 minutes.) Add the collard greens and continue to cook, covered for about 3-4 minutes.  Season with salt and pepper and set aside to cool. (May be made ahead to this point and refrigerated.)

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees and put a kettle of water on to boil. Butter the inside of a 2-quart baking or souflee dish. Set out a roasting pan large enough to hold the baking dish and water to come about halfway up the sides.

Lightly beat the eggs, and add the milk, cream, cheese, optional breadcrumbs and optional herbs/spices. Stir in the cooled collards mixture and pour into the prepared baking dish. Place the dish in the roasting pan and add boiling water to come up 1- 1/2 inches up the side.  (It’s best to do this in the oven.) Bake for 45-60 minutes or until a knife inserted into the center comes out clean. Let the mixture set for about 10 minutes before serving.

Makes 6 servings.

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Orange Marmalade

Making orange marmalade has become a December tradition in our household, getting ready for the holidays and gift giving. While throughout the year, I make jams and other canned concoctions in small batches – sometimes just 2-4 small jars – I go into production mode for the marmalade. This year, I made two dozen 4-ounce jars for one batch of gifts, then turned around and made a second scattered between 4-ounce and ½-pint jars. Marmalade is pretty forgiving. The way I make it came from a combination of something I saw in Martha Stewart Living magazine and an old handwritten recipe from an unknown source. Try to find organic fruit that hasn’t had a wax coating since you’re using the peels.

Orange Marmalade

8 organic, unblemished and relatively thin-skinned oranges, scrubbed

2 organic lemons, scrubbed (I used Meyer lemons)

6 c water

Sugar (amount to be determined, probably 4-6 c)

Peel six of the oranges. Cut the peels (removing very deep pith) into ¼ to 1/3-inch pieces and place in a large saucepan. Slice the orange flesh into ½ inch chunks, removing the tough core and the seeds. Reserve the seeds if you have a large amount. Add the orange flesh to the pan. Slice the remaining two oranges and the lemons into sixths vertically, again removing the core and the seeds. Slice them thinly crosswise into little fan shapes and add them to the pan. (The lemons can be quartered depending on their size.) Add the water to the pan and bring to a boil. Cook for five minutes, cover the pan and set aside to cool, refrigerating overnight. (I put mine outside in this weather.) If you have reserved quite a few seeds, tie them in cheesecloth and add them to the hot orange mixture. The purpose of this exercise – the overnight soak and the addition of seeds – is to develop the natural pectin that makes the marmalade gel.

The next day (or about 8 hours later), prepare jars for water bath canning. Remove the cheesecloth and seeds. Bring the orange mixture back to a boil and cook until the peels are tender, typically 15 minutes or so. Measure the amount of orange mixture and add ¾ of that amount in sugar. (In other words, for 6 c of orange mixture, add 4 c sugar, for 8 c, add 6.)  Bring the mixture back to a boil and cook, stirring occasionally so the mixture doesn’t stick to the pan, until the marmalade reaches the gel point. This is either when the temperature measured on a candy thermometer, reaches 220 degrees, or more reliably (since you can overcook this), when a small drop placed on a plate cooled in the freezer wrinkles to the touch.

Place the hot marmalade into the prepared jars (which should also be hot), wipe the jar rims clean and top them with prepared canning lids (prepared by placing them in boiled water for a few seconds to remove germs). Process in a water bath canner for 10 minutes (for 4, 8 or 12 ounce jars) after the water returns to a boil. Remove the lid, let stand for 5 minutes, then remove the jars to a cool spot to sit undisturbed until cooled.

Makes 8-12 half pint jars and double that in 4-ounce jars.

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Dark Days Week 3: Chicken Cacciatore with the Last Locals

At the end of the fall growing season, right before the first killer frost (which was late this year), we harvest the last of our peppers and tomatoes and collect some from local farm stands, trying to stretch the season as far as possible. Tomatoes are fully ripened from a nutritional point of view when the color “breaks,” so many recommend harvesting them at that stage no matter the time of year. Set aside, away from the light, for a few days, the full color develops and they don’t get starchy. This technique works perfectly for the last locals. In addition to a couple of medium-sized heirloom tomatoes, I have a bowlful of cherry tomatoes that have been ripening at various rates well into the third week of December when I wrote this.

The same goes with multi-colored organic bell peppers. We’ve been eating the peppers and tomatoes, simply sautéed, on disks of roasted white and sweet potatoes, a SOLE-ful appetizer.

Since we are able to get excellent organic, local and ethically raised chicken and I had a meat-eating crowd coming for a pre-holiday dinner, I decided to make a comforting standby, chicken cacciatore, or “hunter’s style” chicken. I skinned and boned the chicken thighs for this recipe, preferring a dash of olive oil over chicken fat as a rendering medium. However, sometimes I leave the skin and bones intact and use no oil.  I always have homemade turkey or chicken stock (frozen) on hand and for this meal I added the bones to it to simmer before proceeding with the dish. We have numerous local vineyards for the traditional addition of white wine, so I was set.  Typically, the chicken would be floured before sautéing but I leave it out whenever my wheat-free daughter is here. Adding it would also have detracted from the otherwise very local meal.

We served the chicken sauté with mashed rutabagas mixed with a little potato to keep the texture creamy and a garnish of the last of my own parsley snatched from an icy ending in the garden.

Chicken Cacciatore

6 chicken thighs (optionally skinned and de-boned)

Olive oil

Salt and pepper

1 medium onion, sliced vertically into moon-shaped pieces

1–1½ bell peppers, preferably a variety of colors, sliced in small vertical strips

1-2 cloves garlic, chopped

¼ c white wine

1 carrot, peeled and sliced on the diagonal

4 medium plum tomatoes, sliced vertically (I substituted 2 medium heirloom tomatoes and a handful of cherry tomatoes, sliced in half)

Fresh rosemary or thyme

¼-1/3 c homemade chicken stock

Parsley

Sauté the chicken thighs in a little olive oil until browned, add a little salt and pepper, and remove them to a warm plate while preparing the vegetables. Saute the onion and peppers in the drippings in the pan, scraping up the browned pieces. Add the garlic and stir. As soon as the garlic is aromatic, add the white wine and stir to deglaze the pan and evaporate most of the liquid. Add the chicken thighs back to the pan, spread around the carrots, tomatoes and herbs, and pour the chicken stock over the mixture. Simmer, covered, for about 20-25 minutes or until the chicken is cooked through.  Adjust the seasonings and serve garnished with a little fresh parsley. Serves 4.

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Farfalle Pasta with Beets and Roasted Oranges

Hmmm. Do these really go together? Pasta and beets? My daughter brought me a package of cream and magenta striped farfalle from Italy so beautiful that it’s been sitting in my pantry untouched, preening. The magenta sections were colored with beets, so why not?

Come a wintry snowbound day when I was supposed to be elsewhere laden with a beet salad for a crowd, I thought, “What am I going to make with all of those beets?” now that the event has been postponed. Luckily, all I’d done to that point was roast them. Also luckily, I caught wind of the fact that the gathered guests were not likely to fawn all over the beets, with their staining color and their earthy, mineral-like flavor. Little did they know that my beets represented three gorgeous varieties (candy-striped Chioggias, golden beets and the dark red ones we associate with the vegetable) and that I’d planned a dressing of orange juice and zest whisked with walnut oil and surprise garnishes to give the guests something to pick at around the beets. Nice, unless you have an anti-root bias.

Cooped up inside all, I needed a creative task, hence pasta and beets. I sliced the beets into fan shapes that mimicked the shape of the farfalle and tossed them in chopped garlic lightly cooked in olive oil.

Then I had a second ah ha. I’ve often been driven to creativity when I have an excess of ingredients, which in this case were not only the beets but also a crate of tangelos that arrived as a gift. They were going to be one of the surprise garnishes I had been planning for the beet salad. I decided they had to go into the pasta and beets, so I roasted them! Thinly sliced, sprinkled with a little brown sugar (to help them brown), a few drops of olive or nut oil, and salt and pepper, they roasted in at 400-degree oven for about 10 minutes until tender and browned. I cut them into fans just like the beets, and arranged them, along with the beets on the cooked pasta that had been salted and sprinkled with walnut oil. Delicious.

For a main dish for two people, I used 1 2 ½-inch round dark red beet, 1 clove of garlic, most of 1 tangelo, and ½ the bag of dried pasta (6 oz). Olive oil could be used instead of the walnut oil.

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Sautéed Cabbage with Portobello Mushrooms

Cabbage and mushrooms have a great affinity for each other and I find myself using the combination in various ways.  In order to pep up sautéed cabbage, I decided to add a few sautéed mushrooms and turned an ordinary side dish into a tasty concoction. I added a few snips of the last dill of the season, harvested a couple of weeks ago before a deep freeze.  Most of it went into a pesto for the freezer but I couldn’t resist using the herb fresh, especially as we head into the dark days when local fresh greens will be scarce. This dish is entirely organic and local.

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Pumpkin Risotto with Sauteed Brussels Sprouts

Right up there with the definition of eternity as “two people and a ham” (or turkey as I remarked last year) is “two people and a pumpkin.” After the pies and breads and soups and stews from a large roasted and pureed cheese pumpkin that I made at Thanksgiving, there was still a cup or so left. Perfect for a batch of risotto on a cold night at the winter solstice earlier this week. This could be made dairy free by omitting the cheese or vegetarian by substituting a vegetable stock for the chicken broth.  I would make it the same way with another winter squash like hubbard or butternut.

My typical proportions for risotto are ¼ c of rice per person for a main dish, a little less for a side, cooked with 1- 1 ¼ stock. I end up using a little less stock when I’m adding something that contributes to the liquid content, like the pumpkin. So for this I used ¾ c Arborio rice, 3 c chicken (or turkey) broth and 3/4 c pureed pumpkin.

Needing something to spark up the dish, I sautéed the leaves of a few heads of Brussels sprouts  in a little olive oil, sprinkled them with salt and served them on top of the risotto. A little salad of bitter greens like radicchio rounds off the meal. This was an entirely local and organic meal with the exception of the rice. I used a hard local cheese instead of the usual Parmesan. I could imagine adding herbs and spices such as ground cumin, ground allspice and cinnamon to this risotto to add a different dimension but it was truly delicious made simply.

Leftovers can be formed into patties and sautéed until brown.

Pumpkin Risotto (for 3 as a main dish, 4 as a side dish)

1 clove garlic, chopped

Butter (or olive oil)

¾ -1 c pumpkin puree

Salt and pepper

1 small onion, chopped

¾ c Arborio rice

3-4 c chicken or turkey stock, warmed

¼ c grated Parmesan cheese or other flavorful hard cheese

Lightly sauté the garlic in a little butter until soft, and add the pumpkin puree, stirring and cooking it until the puree is smooth. Season with salt and pepper to taste and keep warm.

Lightly sauté the onion in a little butter until soft. Add the rice and stir to coat the grains. Start adding the stock, about ¼ c at a time, regulating the heat to keep the liquid at a simmer. Keep stirring and adding additional ¼ c of stock. The entire risotto should take about 20 minutes to cook. About half way through, start adding the pureed pumpkin with the stock. When the risotto is just finished, adjust the seasonings and add the grated cheese. Serve immediately.

Optional garnishes: parsley or other herbs, sautéed leaves of Brussels sprouts or other greens.

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Rice Custard

On popular demand… of all of the ways to make rice ”pudding,” the one my family likes best is an egg custard with a handful of rice and raisins at the bottom. It’s more like custard with rice than the other way around.  Smooth, creamy, aromatic, warm comfort food meant for the days when the winds howl and the temperatures drop. Great for breakfast. This one is made with white rice, but brown rice and a combination of brown and white sugar create another experience. This is adapted from an old recipe, copied down from one of my mother’s cookbooks when I was a kid, but I don’t know which one.

Rice Custard

5 eggs

¾ c sugar

3 c milk (lactose free is fine, so is fat-free)

1 tsp vanilla extract

½ tsp salt

1 ½ c cooked rice

1/3 c raisins

Nutmeg and a grater

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 4-inch+ deep baking dish (like a souflee dish). Put a pot of water on to boil and find a pan that can hold the baking dish and 1+ inch of water.

Beat the eggs lightly, add sugar and stir to blend. Add the milk, vanilla and salt and stir until the sugar is dissolved.

Place the rice and raisins into the prepared baking dish and strain the egg mixture over them. Place the baking dish into the larger pan and pour boiling water into the pan to reach about 1 to 1½ inches up the side.   Carefully place in the preheated oven and cook for 30 minutes.  Stir the mixture. Grate nutmeg over the top and let bake for another hour or more, until a thin bladed knife inserted into the custard comes out clean.

Serves 6-8 or just my husband.

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Dark Days Week 2: Stuffed Cabbage and Butternut Squash

Our local ingredients have been great. Over the past couple of weeks, we’ve eaten all kinds of organic greens, root vegetables and brassicas, which have been served simply or transformed into soups, stews, and egg-based dishes. We still have plentiful local organic peppers, and I have a stash of tomatoes from my garden that were picked green before the first big frost and now make a many-hued display on my counter, ready to be roasted. (Even though we’re meat-eaters, vegetables are the core of our diet.)

One of my great finds at the farmers’ market in the first week of the Dark Days challenge was a gigantic Savoy cabbage, with elephant-ear leaves that have a crinkly, veined creature-like texture. I didn’t need a cabbage but this one was too good to pass up. It was so crisp and fresh that even the usually tough wrapper leaves could be ribboned and shallow-boiled to make a tender and flavorful dish, as in the first Dark Days post.

The drawback to this lovely specimen was the amount of space it took up in my refrigerator, now that the outside weather is too unpredictable to use the porch as a spare fridge. So for the second week, I made stuffed cabbage, a staple of cold-climate countries that thrive on dark days.  My kids remarked that this was one of the best things they’ve ever eaten, since the cabbage was both flavorful and prevalent, and the meat and vegetable stuffing was light.

This is why: I used red peppers, onions, and wrapper-leaf ribbons to lighten up the seasoned ground pork, and the wrapped leaves were covered by home-canned organic tomatoes from last year, which I needed to use up. Other typical ways of stuffing cabbage with sausage or other meats would have included rice or bread. Not local. By increasing the amount of vegetable filler, and eliminating the starches, I actually got a better and more nourishing result. Go Mom.

Finally, since I like to have something raw with every meal, I made a salad with local organic escarole and tiny snips of herbs from my pots and local stash – tarragon, lovage, chives, parsley, dill. While I piled everything on one plate for the group photo, we usually eat the salad as a later course.

I love this challenge. It will make me a better cook.

Stuffed Cabbage

12 outer leaves from a Savoy cabbage, washed

About 1 c of ribbons from cabbage leaves

1 medium onion, diced

1 medium red pepper, diced

Splash of olive oil

1 lb ground pork or pork sausage (I used one with Kielbasa seasoning, meaning pepper, salt and caraway but I could have used plain ground pork)

Seasonings: Salt, pepper, ½ tsp caraway seeds

1 pt tomato sauce (I used my home-canned organic tomato-onion-garlic sauce)

2 tsp organic red wine vinegar (or cider vinegar)

Salt and pepper to taste

Bring a large pot of water to boil. Separate the cabbage leaves, taking care to keep them from tearing, and blanch them in small batches until crisp-tender (2-3 minutes). Remove carefully and set aside to drain. Blanch the ribboned cabbage, drain and set aside. Cut the thick ribs from the bottom of the cabbage leaves, making a v-formation.

Saute onions and pepper in a little olive oil until translucent. Set aside to cool. Combine the onions, peppers and cabbage ribbons with the ground pork sausage. Cook a small portion to test the tastes and adjust. (I added ½ tsp caraway seeds to the mix.)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Spread the cabbage leaves flat and place ¼-1/3 c of the filling on each, just above the v-cut. Fold the bottom and then the sides over the filling and roll up, placing them seam side down in a baking pan. Spoon over the tomato sauce thinned with a little vinegar. Bake for 45 minutes until bubbly. Let set a few minutes before serving.

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