This dish is usually referred to as New England Boiled Dinner, and for years I made it the traditional way—in one pot—beginning with the beef and onions, cooking that for 2 to 3 hours and adding cabbage, carrots and potatoes to the pot for the last hour.  Voila!  Dinner.

I now make the dish this way—heightening the taste a bit by slow-cooking the beef and then roasting the carrots and potatoes separately so that they are brown and caramelized and a great complement to the mild, smooth cabbage.   Served with a good mustard or horseradish cream sauce, this is equally perfect as a Sunday night supper or something you come home to after a long day out.  And the leftovers make terrific sandwiches or a heartwarming soup.  I also like to make this in a slow cooker—put it on in the morning and forget about it until it’s time to roast the vegetables, but it tastes just as nice made in a Dutch oven—and I’ve included the times for both.

New England Corned Beef Dinner

Serves 6

1 3 to 4 pound corned beef (seasoning packet discarded)
2 large yellow onions cut into quarters
1 ½ cups of water
1 teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper
¼ teaspoon garlic powder
1 small head cabbage, cut into wedges
5 to 6 large carrots, peeled and cut into 2-inch pieces
8 small red potatoes, scrubbed and cut into quarters
2 tablespoons olive oil

In a slow cooker (or a Dutch oven if you don’t want to use the slow cooker) place the onions in the bottom to cover.  Lay the beef on top of the onions.  Pour the water over.  Sprinkle the top of the beef with the pepper and the garlic powder.  Cook on high heat for 8 hours (or on top of the stove in the Dutch oven for 2-3 hours) until the beef is very tender.  Add the cabbage—just arrange the wedges right on top of the beef– for the last 2 hours (if using the slow cooker) or the last hour (if using the Dutch oven) and continue to cook until the cabbage is tender.

An hour before you plan to eat, preheat the oven to 375 degrees.  Place an oven rack in the lower third of your oven.  Toss the potatoes and carrots with the olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper.  Place the vegetables in a roasting pan and roast on the bottom rack of the oven for one hour, stirring after 30 minutes.

When the meat is done, remove it from the pot to a cutting board and let rest while you plate the vegetables.  Slice the beef on the diagonal and serve it all with mustard and/or horseradish cream sauce.

Horseradish Cream Sauce

½ cup sour cream
2 heaping tablespoon fresh grated horseradish
2 tablespoons of heavy cream

Combine the sour cream, horseradish and heavy cream and let chill in the refrigerator for an hour or two before serving.

This potato dish makes an appearance on our table a few times a year—usually for a special occasion.  We’ve enjoyed them with our Easter ham, or our Thanksgiving turkey, or our Christmas roast tenderloin, and on the occasional birthday—they are made by special request.  It’s kind of a contradiction that given the importance of the occasions, and the pleasure with which it is met, this dish is very simple to make, rustic in appearance and totally comforting in taste.

The key to the consistency of this dish is to thinly slice the potatoes.  I use a mandoline (a kitchen tool I would really miss now that I use one a lot), which makes really quick work of this.  It takes a little while to layer the potatoes nicely, but I recommend doing it—it looks and tastes better when it’s symmetrical—I don’t know why, it just does.

The classic rendition of this dish is made with Gruyere cheese and is also seasoned with nutmeg (called Gratin Dauphinois) and we love it that way too.  But the white cheddar appeals more to our kids’ taste, and is easier on the budget.

White Cheddar Potato Gratin

Serves 8 to 10

Preparation Time:  30 minutes
Cook Time:  1 hour
Total Time:  1 ½ hours

Ingredients:

2 garlic cloves, finely minced
4 pounds Yukon gold or other waxy potatoes
4 cups half-and-half
4 cups grated White Cheddar cheese
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Preparation

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Butter a 9 x 13 rectangular or oval baking dish.   Pour the half-and-half into a medium sized saucepan and add the minced garlic, then heat on low while you prepare the potatoes.

Peel the potatoes and slice them into 1/16 inch slices using a mandoline or a knife (if you want to drive yourself crazy).  (You could probably use a food processor slicer blade too—but I haven’t tried this myself.)

Layer the potatoes, just slightly overlapping in the bottom of the buttered dish.  Sprinkle with a little of the salt, pepper, and about ½ cup of the cheese.  Then spoon a ½ cup of the warm half-and-half and garlic mixture over.  Repeat these layers until you’ve used all of your potatoes or the reached the top of the dish, whichever comes first.

Bake for an hour or until the top of the gratin is golden and bubbly and the potatoes pierce easily with a fork.

On a cold night, nothing is a better accompaniment to the main dish than a roasted vegetable.  And a vegetable that makes frequent appearances on our plates in the wintertime is fennel.  Roasting softens the anise flavor of the fennel, and brings out a rich, buttery taste that makes this crunchy, fresh-tasting vegetable into a comfort food.  This is wonderful with any meat or as part of a vegetarian meal.

Roasted Fennel

Serves 4

Ingredients:

2 fennel bulbs
2 tablespoons of olive oil
Kosher Salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Preparation:

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees and position one of the racks in the lower third of the oven.

Wash and trim the fennel bulbs, (you can save the stalks and fronds for soup…) and slice the bulbs in half and then again into slices.

Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil.  Place the fennel slices on the baking sheet and drizzle with the olive oil.  Turn the slices to lightly coat them with the oil.  Sprinkle the slices with the salt and the pepper.  Place on the lower rack in the oven and cook for 15 minutes or until they are beginning to lightly caramelize on the bottom.   Turn the slices and cook for another 15 minutes to caramelize the other side.  Serve immediately or it can stand for 10 minutes or so while you get the rest of dinner ready.

This isn’t a new book—it was first released in 1997, but my nightstand stack is high and I’m not always current.  But new doesn’t matter with this story.  Reading Michael Ruhlman’s The Making of a Chef is a really great “armchair” way to fulfill a lifelong fantasy that I’ll bet a whole bunch of us avid home cooks share—that of attending the CIA, the Culinary Institute of America.  There is a short list of really good cooking schools in the United States and the CIA is certainly at the top of that list.

Some time ago, my husband had occasion to go to the CIA to speak to a graduating class of chefs that his company had sponsored.  I was so enamored of the CIA that I took off a couple of days of work so that I could go with him.  We ate in one of the CIA restaurants the night before, and on the day he was speaking, I was offered a tour of the Institute and I think of it to this day.  The first thing I remember is that in front of the main building is a circular drive.  On the spring day we were there, the driveway was lined with gorgeous ice carvings that had been made by students in a class and had been set out for display on the driveway until they melted.  Anybody who’s ever planned a party and innocently asked how much an ice sculpture would be would know that there must have been about $4,000 worth of ice sculptures melting away that day.

While touring the pastry kitchens, and looking at the wonderful things being prepared, I asked the woman I was with what the average weight gain was for CIA graduates.  She laughed and said that everyone asks her that and to my surprise, she said it was only about 15 pounds—so going to the CIA isn’t really any worse that going to any other college and putting on the famous “freshman 15”.

Of course, Michael Ruhlman isn’t too concerned about silly details like that.  But he’s written a detailed chronicle of the process, the personal dynamics at play, and the very hard work that is entailed when you sign up to be a chef at the CIA.   He had a great idea back in the mid 1990s—as a food writer, he felt that he should know more about what it takes to be a chef—and that this knowledge would better inform him as a food writer.  He approached the CIA with an idea to take an abbreviated version of their full course—and write about the experience.  Early on in the process, he became so interested in meeting the challenges of the work and the critiques of his instructors that he decided to complete the course—as a chef would—and not abbreviate the experience too much for the sake of expedient writing.

It is good to learn that most if not all of the things that are made in the CIA course kitchens, are used among the four restaurants that are a teaching part of the campus and the curriculum.   Stock, breads, pastries, everything…is carted around the campus from classroom to kitchens—the production of quality food on a deadline instilled from the beginning course.

The standards are revealed to be exacting, and the pressure of the classes seems to mirror the pressures of being a chef.  He describes the relative strengths and weaknesses of his own work and that of his fellow students—and gives a good picture of why—when we laypeople walk into a restaurant—we can have such a wide variety of experience.  The CIA will definitely turn out a competent chef…and then once they’ve ventured out into the culinary world—the art of cooking and the competency at management of a kitchen will determine the kinds of dining experiences that we all enjoy out there in the world.

I think this book is required reading for anyone considering spending the money to go to culinary school.   If, after reading you still want to go—you probably have what it takes.  In any event, you will have been entertained and interested by this well written and engrossing journey.
The Making of a Chef: Mastering Heat at the Culinary Institute of America by Michael Ruhlman, 2009 Holt Paperbacks

Living in Florida, Mardi Gras comes and goes some years with hardly a mention, even though my dear husband is New Orleans born and bred with a slew of wonderful Louisiana relatives who really know how to cook, eat and party. At least this year, I was treated to a slice of King Cake by a good friend who also hails from there—but that was it for Mardi Gras for me this year.

I was thinking about that yesterday, craving something New Orleans-y, and thought of this great pasta recipe, which I adapted from quintessential New Orleans chef Emeril.  I do love the classic Jambalaya made with rice, but we’ve also grown to love this pasta version. This is a good recipe to make when you need to feed a crowd.  And once I’ve made it, I can leave it on the stove while I watch the news, and then it reheats nicely while I’m tossing the salad or slicing some bread to go with it.   If you’re not feeding a crowd, it’s also great as a leftover.  So there you have it…Laissez les bon temps roulez!

Jambalaya Pasta

Preparation Time:  30 minutes of chopping, peeling, etc.
Cook Time:  30 minutes
Total Time:  1 hour (unless you’re a lot faster than I am)

Serves 6 to 8

Ingredients:

1 pound farfalle (bowtie) pasta
2 tablespoons of olive oil
1 pound peeled, deveined large shrimp
2 tablespoons of Emeril’s Essence or other Cajun seasoning
2 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves, cut into 1-inch dice
¾ pound andouille sausage, cut into ½ -inch dice
1 medium onion, finely diced
½ green bell pepper, finely diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
½ cup chicken stock
1 (14.5) ounce can diced tomatoes
1 tablespoon freshly chopped thyme leaves (or 1 teaspoon dried)
½ cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil leaves
½ cup grated Parmesan cheese, plus additional for passing separately

Cook the farfalle in boiling, salted water according to package directions until it is al dente (tender but still firm to the bite).  Remove the pot from the heat.  Add the shrimp to the pot, cover and let stand until the shrimp are pink and firm, about 2 minutes.  Drain the pasta and the shrimp, reserving 1 cup of the pasta cooking water.

While the pasta cooks, heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a large sauté pan.  Season the chicken with 1 tablespoon of the Cajun seasoning and 1/8 teaspoon of the salt.  Add the chicken to the pan and cook for 3 minutes, stirring and turning to brown all sides.  Remove the chicken from the pan and set aside.

Put the remaining tablespoon of olive oil in the pan and add the sausage, onion and green pepper.  Cook, stirring occasionally until the sausage is browned and the onions are translucent, about 3 to 5 minutes.  Add the garlic to the pan and sauté for another 30 seconds.  Add the chicken stock to the pan and scrape up the browned bits from the bottom of the pan.  Add the diced tomatoes, thyme, the remaining tablespoon of Cajun seasoning, and ½ teaspoon salt.  Cook for 2 minutes.  Add the cream to the pan and cook for another 2 minutes.  Add the chicken, the shrimp and pasta, and the reserved one-cup of pasta cooking liquid.  Continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until the shrimp and chicken are fully cooked through, and most of the pasta cooking water has evaporated. The pasta should have a nice, creamy texture.  Remove from the heat, stir in the basil and the Parmesan.  Toss to combine and serve.

Note:  This recipe has a bit of kick to it—medium to spicy in my book.  You can reduce the spiciness of this by using a less spicy sausage (a kielbasa would also be good) and/or lightening up on the Cajun seasoning.

Brrrr.  With all apologies to our northern neighbors for whining…us Floridians are really sissies when it comes to cold weather, and these last few weeks have been really cold.  While we haven’t had snow (although our brethren in the panhandle have) our tropical plants are wilted and looking quite pathetic, our lips and cheeks are chapped, and almost nobody I know here has enough winter clothes—so we’re all wearing the same sweatshirts, sweaters and pants over and over and over again.  Like I said brrrr.

The good news is that this weather has given us an unprecedented opportunity to cook our favorite winter comfort foods—and eat them in front of a warming fire. And in my family, Beef Bourguignon is at the top of the list of comfort foods.  Who doesn’t like a long-simmering rich, deeply flavored stew studded with beef that is dark brown on the outside and tender to the fork, our favorite sturdy winter vegetable trilogy of onions, carrots and mushrooms with a sauce that is happy to be spooned next to mashed potatoes, over wide egg noodles, or wiped clean with a crusty sourdough or other fresh baked bread.  Add a salad and a glass of red wine or cider, and feel the warmth of family contentment.  This recipe makes enough to feed a party—or for a family of four to enjoy the leftovers through the week.

Beef Bourguignon
(Adapted from The New Basics Recipe by Julee Rosso & Sheila Lukins)

Serves 8 to 10 generously

Preparation time:  1 hour
Cook time:  2 hours
Total time:  3 hours

Ingredients:

½ pound bacon, diced
3 pounds beef chuck, cut into 1-inch cubes
1 large onion, chopped
Salt and pepper to taste
4 tablespoons all-purpose flour
3 cups of a hearty red wine (burgundy if you have it)
3 cups beef stock
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 tablespoon rosemary (fresh or dried is fine)
4 large carrots, peeled and cut into 1 inch pieces
1 bag of frozen white pearl onions
8 ounces fresh mushrooms (any kind you like, but wild is nicest)
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 tablespoon red currant jelly

Preparation:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

In a Dutch oven or ovenproof casserole, sauté the bacon until crisp.  Remove the bacon with a slotted spoon and set aside.  Pour off all but 2 tablespoons of the bacon drippings.  Brown the beef in the bacon fat in batches so as not to overcrowd the beef.  When all are brown, return the beef to the pot and add the onion.  Sprinkle the beef and onion mixture with salt, pepper and the flour.  Stir to combine well and cook, continuing to stir for 3 minutes (the idea here is to make sure that the flour has cooked enough to lose its “flour” taste—it should brown a bit with the onions and the beef).  Add the wine, the beef stock, the tomato paste, the rosemary and the reserved bacon.  Stir to deglaze the pot and bring the mixture to the boil.  Cover and place in the oven to cook for hours or until the meat is very tender.

While the beef is cooking, prepare the vegetables.  Drain the pearl onions in a colander (they can be thawing while they’re draining).  Bring water to the boil in a small saucepan.  Add the cut carrots and parboil for about 7 minutes until crisp tender.  Add them to the colander with the onions and drain.  Wipe the mushrooms clean, remove their stems and cut the caps into quarters.  In a small sauté pan, melt the butter and then sauté the mushrooms until they have released all of their juices and are slightly browned.  Set aside.
When the meat has cooked for 1 ½ hours, add the onion, carrots, mushrooms and jelly to the pot.  Return to the oven and continue to cook for another 30 to 40 minutes to heat the vegetables through.  Serve immediately or cool and store in the refrigerator.  This stew improves with age.