The Cooking Critic

I have come to an important conclusion: people are hungry for brunch recipes. What first tipped me off (actually, what solely tipped me off) was the amount of hits my various brunch recipes received from my Easter brunch post. I knew that brunch was a popular activity for many, but I didn’t realize that making brunch was also popular. Far be it for me to deny the public what they want. If they want brunch recipes, goshdarnit, they’ll get them.

While I’m a big fan of brunch myself, I’m not a big fan of cooking in the mornings, or even mid-mornings for that matter, which perhaps led me to my earlier erroneous assumption that everybody preferred dining out for brunch instead of dining in—everybody’s like me, right? I’m exceedingly slow out of the gate when I wake up, and often I can’t be bothered with anything more than eating a piece of fruit. My other staples include: yogurt, banana smoothies (before my blender abruptly died and left me very lonely) and oatmeal with brown sugar, dried cranberries and flaxseed mixed in. The latter is about as labor-intensive as I get for breakfast, until now. Since I’ve determined the world wants brunch recipes, I’ll attempt at least one a month. Yes, I’m doing this for you.

My first once-a-month-public-brunch-promise selection wasn’t difficult. I had some goat cheese in the refrigerator, and I came across a Savory Bread Pudding with Goat Cheese and Ham recipe. It was sufficiently different from the usual brunch recipes, and I was intrigued by the idea of a savory bread pudding, having only had sweet ones before. I’m sure you’re intrigued too. And I hope you’re not scrunching your nose at the thought of goat cheese or bread pudding because I’ve known people to do that before. But I certainly wouldn’t expect that of you. (You’re my favorite by the way. Shhh, don’t tell the others.)

Of course, there was still the can’t-think-in-the- mornings-much-less-cook issue to deal with it, which was solved easily enough by making this a dinner entrée. In fact, it became an impromptu dinner party, very similar to my last dinner party. Savory Bread Pudding with Goat Cheese and Ham was substituted for the Green Beans and Saffron Pasta, and all the other elements remained the same: Trader Joe’s Dips for appetizers, Hearts of Palm Salad as an accompaniment and Raspberry Brownies for dessert. Why mess with a formula that works? And I suspect the reason this dish isn’t pictured in the cookbook is because it doesn’t photograph so well, as I’ve learned. Try not to hold this against it. And don’t laugh at my pathetic attempt to scatter ham evenly. You would think I’d try a little harder knowing I’m going to photograph the evidence later….

Adjustments: As you can see above, I separated the ham and olives into different sections to satisfy dueling palates: vegetarians vs olive haters. Also, I found the recipe could use more goat cheese, ham and olives, but maybe this was because I used a long dish, instead of the deep one called for and this spread out the flavors of the fixins more than usual.

Assessment: Maggie dubbed this sophisticated comfort food, and I thought the olives, goat cheese and ham were a nice sharp/salty/tangy combination. Also, since I get bored easily with the regular brunch fare at restaurants (sometimes I want more options than pancakes and omelets), this dish gets major bonus points for originality. But while not difficult, it is a time commitment with an hour baking time in the oven. If I were to make this again, and I certainly would if I found myself with a log of goat cheese in the refrigerator, I would see how it works cooked up like a French toast sandwich, which would take a lot less time and is basically what it tasted like.

When I invited Maggie over for dinner, I mentioned very coolly in passing, “Saffron will be there.” “Saffron?” she said, just as coolly back, pretending she didn’t care. Then I mentioned green beans, and her cool veneer slipped just a little because, frankly, nobody worries about being cool in front of green beans, and she admitted that she’s on a green bean kick where she likes to cook them up and then salt the hell out of them. Then the conversation turned back to saffron, and she got all blasé since that’s the thing you do when it comes to the most sought-after spice around and said, “Well, maybe I’ll stop by.” And so she did.

Saffron is effortlessly cool, and he thinks he’s pretty special because, well, he is. According to The New Food Lover’s Companion, he’s the most expensive spice in the world. And unlike some items where the high price seems arbitrary, saffron actually has a good reason for being so expensive. Saffron comes from a flower that produces only three saffron stigmas per flower. On top of this, these stigmas are handpicked. Can you imagine handpicking saffron? I’ve always maintained that the worst job I ever had was a soccer referee—this claim is questionable since I’ve had my share of bad jobs, but between the fact it was my very first job and everybody loves to yell at you when you’re a referee, it doesn’t seem like such an outrageous notion. Still, I imagine being a stigma-picker is worse. At the very least, it sounds extremely tedious.

But we’ll move away from the plight of the stigma-picker, which I have no knowledge of, and on to meals containing said stigmas, of which I have a little more knowledge but not a lot since I can count the number of times I’ve used saffron on one hand. That number is two.

Basically, saffron is an easy way to impress guests since it’s familiar enough not to be scary but still has some exotic shimmer to it. Sure enough, with saffron mixed in, a dish becomes vibrant, and the taste of saffron is its very own and hard to describe. I’d like to think it has a slightly buttery/faintly floral taste. Of course, I like to think all sorts of things—for instance, that eventually I’ll live in one of those gorgeous houses in Los Feliz and not have to fret over purchasing things such as saffron—so who knows how accurate my description is.

For something not terribly planned out, Maggie and I had a nice little feast with our Trader Joe’s appetizer dips, Hearts of Palm Salad, Green Beans and Saffron Pasta and Raspberry Brownies. As a bonus for any host, none of these dishes were labor-intensive, and the meal as a whole was completely feasible to pull off. Yea feasibility!

Adjustments: Instead of garganelli pasta (a ribbed penne, more or less), I used bowtie because I just can’t justify buying other pastas when I have such an assortment (if an incomplete one) in my house.

Assessment: This dish had a nice flavor heigtened by the kicky pecorinio cheese, and I liked it even better the second day, but overall it was subtler than I would have liked. I also didn’t love the instruction to include “2 pinches of saffron threads”; it wasn’t nearly exact enough for me, a Virgo, obviously. I found myself wondering if my pinch would be more or less than the average pinch. At first I blamed my stingy pinches for the low-key flavor, but I have since read that you need to use saffron within six months for optimum flavor, and saffron had been hanging out at my place for far longer than that. What can I say? I enjoy his company.

I’m going to call this dish “relatively easy” though I have some doubts. It’s not hard, but it took longer than 30 minutes. Still, I think the time might have more to do with the fact I haven’t quite mastered the art of chatting with guests while cooking rather than how long the dish actually takes. As for recommending this dish: I think it’s a good base for exploring saffron but feel free to freestyle cook with this one—no need to be a slave to the recipe. And use fresher saffron than I did.

My idea for an Easter brunch started out harmless enough. I saw the Weekend Cookbook Challenge was having a bloggers’ brunch round-up, and I thought something along the lines of “Brunch! What a lovely idea. Perhaps I will have a few friends over, and I will serve them brunch.” Between this original small-scale notion and sending out an Evite less than a week before Easter, the idea had ballooned into inviting nearly everyone I know in the Los Angeles area. And while I generally think I’m capable of fitting more tasks into a day than is humanly possible, I had no delusions about being the sole supplier of a meal for thirty people, which was a pleasantly surprising showing for a last-minute shindig. So I described the brunch as “potluck-ish” and at the risk of sounding bossy, told people exactly what we needed for a diverse spread (egg dishes, fruit dishes, salads, etc.) since I was afraid otherwise, most would just stop by a bakery beforehand, and all we’d have was a diverse array of muffins.

I think it turned out well:

The day before the brunch, I whipped together this ridiculously simple Fruit Dip (cream cheese, marshmallow fluff, orange juice and orange zest) that I’ve made countless times. It was sweeter than I remembered, and I might use lemon juice instead of orange juice to cut the sweetness next time or try out one of the other many fruit dip recipes I have lying around. (Yes, I am in possession of multiple fruit dip recipes. No, I do not think this is strange.) But the crowd said nice things. Then again, it was a nice crowd. Alie thought the dip was a great summery addition, and Audrey described it as dipping fruit into a creamsicle.

Next I mixed and rolled Sausage Balls, another easy one. It’s possible that the term “Sausage Balls” doesn’t sound particularly pleasant or edible to you, but they are “a surprising animal” according to David Friedman, the biggest Sausage Ball cheerleader I know. Here’s another way to think of it: a little round biscuit with sausage and cheese baked in. Doesn’t that sound infinitely better? And despite the fact that the crowd kept giggling at Sausage Balls’ ridiculous name, they ate them and proclaimed their love for them. And here’s a tip: my mother was talking to a woman about her Sausage Balls (this is a perfectly normal conversation in the South since everyone makes Sausage Balls there) and how they can cook up dry. The woman said she rolls her balls more loosely to keep them moist, and I found this works. And on that note, we now move on to Orange Chocolate Salad but not without a giant picture of a Sausage Ball first:

I first noticed Clementine Chocolate Salad when Running with Tweezers posted it for the last Weekend Cookbook Challenge. Though I was drawn to it and had half-heartedly considered making it, I couldn’t commit. But when Adam showed up on my doorstep with a sack full of oranges as a thank you for my feeding Pants the cat while he was away, I determined the oranges were a sign from God telling me to make Clementine Chocolate Salad but with navel oranges.

This dish looks simple, but I encountered one problem after another with it—sometimes that happens when you feel pushed for time. I doubled the dish and spent 20 minutes grating chocolate, which is very very boring, and still had only half as much chocolate as I needed. As it turns out, I hate grating chocolate. I will never grate 3.5 ounces of chocolate again. I will either buy it pre-grated (if this product exists) or hire someone to do the grating for me (anyone want that job?—it doesn’t pay, but there’s free Orange Chocolate Salad in it for you.) Then I made the vanilla bean syrup, which was only three ingredients but more trouble than I imagined. On my first try, I cooked it too long trying to get it golden as instructed and ended up with basically Vanilla Bean Jolly Ranchers. So I tossed my creation and made the syrup again, taking it off the burner soon after the sugar dissolved instead of attempting anything golden for fear of wasting more vanilla beans.

Despite the hassle, it was a wonderfully elegant dish that would be especially good at a bridal shower, and people loved the fact that the words “chocolate” and “salad” were used together. But next time, I think I’ll try the version with the fresh mint instead of the chocolate (though the crowd loved the taste of chocolate and oranges together) since I prefer whacking at mint with scissors to grating chocolate.

Next I made a Caramel Coffee Cake, something that sounds far more complicated than it is. All you do is throw yeast rolls in a greased pan, mix together some dry butterscotch pudding and spices, throw them on top of the rolls, then top with melted butter. If you ever make this, you will look at what I just described and think that I must be crazy for insisting that it will turn into a gooey Caramel Coffee Cake. You have to let it rise overnight, and in case you have any reservations about letting the butter that it’s topped with sit out unrefrigerated for hours, Real Simple, one of the premier butter authorities in the world, says it’s okay in their discussion of food myths here (click the link and scroll down.) Evidently, there’s enough salt in salted butter that you can always leave it out, and it will still be fine. As for the coffee cake, when the yeast rolls have risen the next day (appropriate for an Easter meal, no?) into a doughy mass, you will still think I’m crazy for claiming you will have coffee cake after it is cooked. But trust me and put the pan in the oven, let it cook, take it out, flip it out on a plate, ooh and aah, then thank me. I will not hold it against you that you thought I was crazy. Here it is half-eaten, slightly blurry, poorly lit and not nearly as pretty as it is in person (sadly, pictures were an after-thought). But by the end of the party it was gone except for one slice. An excellent sign. Sarah Kate described Caramel Coffee Cake and Orange Chocolate Salad as “can’t-go-wrongs.” I’m thinking about adding that as a category to my blog….

All the day-before prep work complete (sorry for all the jumping around in time), I rested on the seventh day, meaning I tried to sleep around midnight but could not, thinking of all the cleaning and additional food prep work I had to do before 11 a.m. At least I got the coffee and tea station (a transformed IKEA bookshelf) set up in the living room, which I am very proud of because it prevented overflow in the kitchen area and kept the guests happy and caffeinated:

The morning of brunch, the show got under way with minimal sleep and the much-appreciated help of Melissa and Trixie, who assisted me with everything from moving furniture to peeling oranges–somehow the latter turned out to be more difficult than the former. Proof:

As it turns out, Melissa, though a gifted writer and quite adorable, cannot peel an orange to save her life. The above is an example of an orange peeled by Melissa. I had to fire Melissa from her orange-peeling duties and give that job to Trixie who went about scoring them first and making them look more uniform than I thought possible.

However, Melissa was able to redeem herself by expertly opening a bottle of champagne, and she was an immense help with our last-minute assembly of Gorgonzola Grits (another quick dish, but it requires nearly constant attention during its ten-minute prep lifespan), a recipe I got from a Junior League cookbook. I made one with chicken broth, as the recipe told me to, and another version with No-Chicken Broth (the name of the brand) for the vegetarians. I had used the actual chicken broth to poach a chicken earlier in the week, and so, it was an extra-chickeny chicken broth. The grits made with this broth had a very powerful, salty flavor. It made for robust grits—perhaps too robust. But flavorful and unusual in the best sort of way—I’ll just go with a tamer chicken broth next time. The vegetarians loved their less-salty version, one claiming they had converted her to gritsdom and another describing them as “half city/half country—the Donny and Marie of breakfast.” (The No-Chicken Broth made much yellower grits than the real-chicken broth, in case you were wondering about the color difference.)

Soon Mike and Meghann arrived, then Tim, Danielle and Kysa with coffee pot in tow, and it became a rockin’ party from there with people enjoying their mimosas:

and bringing more delicious brunch foods than I knew existed. To give you a sense of what was present, I’ll describe my leftovers. For dinner that night, I had Marissa’s French toast casserole, Sarah Kate’s deviled eggs (with caviar!), Melissa’s spinach salad and a puff pastry stuffed with mushrooms and cheese that magically appeared near the end of brunch. (I have no idea who brought it). For breakfast I had Meghann’s egg casserole and Maggie’s cheddar dill scones. Lunch was Christiane’s quiche, my grits and Shayna’s stuffed cream cheese French toast. For a dessert break I’ll have chocolate cake (Sarah’s?) and/or Leslie’s peach cobbler. And already I’m eyeing the leftovers and imagining what I can create with them—some sort of tart with the fruit dip and strawberries? A cake with a layer of those vanilla meringues? Lucky for the people playing poker at my house later this week….

>>Buy Open House: A Culinary Tour by The Junior League of Murfreesboro.

Polenta inspires nothing in me. Basically, I think they’re glorified grits. But for whatever reason, the Polenta Fries in CHOW (a hip, new food magazine that you should check out) spoke to me. Actually, I think the cheese wine dipping sauce spoke to me, but I had to have something to dip into it, so I figured might as well make the fries too. And an excuse for a dinner party was born!

Maggie Flynn and Shahan Sanossian joined me for a little vegetarian antipasto feast. I let them be taste testers for the guacamole I’m entering in Guac Bowl ’06 (tremble in fear those competing against me). Then we ate our Polenta Fries with Fontina Fondue, and I provided two healthy dishes to prevent us from having massive coronaries: Roasted Eggplant & Peppers accompanied by Tomato Salad with Basil-Honey Vinaigrette (both from the Williams-Sonoma Complete Entertaining Cookbook.)

Also, I made an Apricot Brandy Pound Cake from the Junior League Open House cookbook. I don’t know why I keep trying to convince myself I like pound cake. It’s a homely little dessert. Nothing to it. If I’m going to add some fat to my body, I’d rather do it with something that’s creamy or rich or chocolately or something. Pound cake is too vanilla for me, which I feel is actually an insult to vanilla because it’s far more interesting than pound cake.

Adjustments: I bought pre-cooked polenta (instead of cooking up instant per the instructions,) and despite my last minute freak-out that it would be horrendous and inedible, and I wouldn’t have enough decent food to serve my guests, it turned out quite good. I cut the roll of polenta into discs, dipped them in flour, and fried away (actually, Shahan did the frying.) Really, what wouldn’t taste good like that? Also I served the pound cake with a couple strawberries and an easy Apricot Sauce (hit the link and scroll down to “Topping Ingredients.”) It helped gussy up the presentation and the taste.

Assessment: Polenta fries and fondue are really yummy, but not the easiest dinner party undertaking because you have to do two things last minute (fry polenta, make fondue). It helps to have laid-back dinner guests who don’t mind helping. (I recommend Shahan and Maggie.) Tomato Salad is really easy and flavorful, and you can’t screw it up. Roasted Eggplant isn’t a show-stopper but a respectable side all the same. It’s good too because you can make it in advance and it’s not hard–but peeling off the skins of the eggplant and peppers is kind of a pain. And I think I prefer it on toasted bread, which is how I’ve been eating the leftovers. The pound cake tastes like pound cake. And despite the fact that I’ve determined I’ll never make another pound cake as long as I live, I still find myself intrigued by this version of a Apricot Brandy Pound Cake, which I ran across after making my own. It incorporates dry whipped topping mix into the batter.