Buttermilk Biscuits with Garlic Chive Butter

Earlier this week we made our own butter and buttermilk. Then we put them to work in Buttermilk Biscuits with Garlic Chive Butter.

Buttermilk Biscuits
Adapted slightly from Alton Brown

2 cups flour
4 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. baking soda
3/4 tsp. salt
4 tbsp. butter
1 cup buttermilk, chilled

1. Preheat oven to 450 degrees
2. Combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a large bowl. Cut in the butter using a pastry cutter or two forks until the dough resembles course crumbs. Make a well in the center, pour in buttermilk. Mix only until the dough comes together. No more than absolutely necessary.
3. Turn the dough out onto a floured surface. Knead 5-6 times and press to a 1-inch thickness. Cut out biscuits with a 2-inch round cutter (the rim of a glass will also work in a pinch). Place biscuits on a baking sheet so their edges just touch. Reform dough and repeat.
4. Bake until fluffy and light golden brown, about 15-20 minutes. Serve warm with more butter, jam, or garlic chive butter.

Garlic Chive Butter

1/4 cup unsalted butter (homemade if possible)
1 small clove garlic, finely minced
2 tbsp. chives, finely chopped
pinch salt

Bring butter to room temperature. Mix in garlic, chives, and salt. Let stand for several minutes to blend flavors. Spread on warm buttermilk biscuits.

Homemade Butter, Shaken Not Stirred

Little House on the Prairie is more than just a series around here. It's a way of life. I have Laura Ingalls Wilder's biggest fan in residence. We often play "Little House" which mostly entails three pioneer children, Laura, Mary, and Carrie, diligently and obediently carrying out whatever task Ma or Pa Ingalls might need done at any given time. As far as parent participation games go, this is my favorite.

This week we embraced our inner pioneer spirit by churning our own butter. The process is so very simple, especially when you can run to Costco to buy a half gallon of of heavy cream, yet so satisfying.

Start with a good amount of heavy cream. We used about 2 quarts, but there's no need to measure. Let the cream sit out until it's room temperature. Cold cream takes much longer to convert and if your kids are anything like mine, this makes all the difference between fun active science experiment and grueling upper body workout.

Pour the cream into a spill-proof container. We used plastic Tupperware containers with screw lids, but whatever you've got that you can shake without spilling should work just fine. Just be sure to leave plenty of room for expansion. Alternatively you can whip the cream with a mixer but we had a lot more fun shaking ours into submission. 

Start shaking. And shaking. And then shake some more. The cream will start to expand until it becomes whipped cream. At this point we unscrewed the lids and everyone had a taste.

Put the lids back on and shake some more. When it feels like you're shaking a solid lump of clay, keep going, you're almost there.

 Success!

 

Drain off the liquid buttermilk using a cheesecloth or other thin piece of fabric as a sieve. An old dinner napkin worked for us. Reserve the buttermilk for pancakes, biscuits or other pioneer-inspired treat. Rinse the butter in cold water and drain repeatedly through the cheesecloth until the water is clear. Place the solid butter on a flat surface and squeeze out as much liquid as possible using a spatula or the back of a spoon. That's it! 

Fresh homemade butter fit for Ma Ingalls' table.

Burrata, My Love, or Mozzarella Three Ways

Ever since a chance meeting at Scampo in Boston a couple of years ago, I've been head over heels in love with a voluptuous, decadent bundle of creamery goodness that goes by the name of Burrata cheese.

Refreshing and indulgent at the same time, it's like mozzarella pudding on a plate for crying out loud. Get me some tomatoes and a spoon. The Littles, however, are wary. Goopy and soupy are not big selling points with them, and the lack of vibrant color isn't helping. Time for a little side by side comparison.

Mozzarella cheese three ways. We sampled:

1. Everyday mozzarella string cheese (Frigo brand, in case you're wondering)
2. Fresh water-packed mozzarella
3. Burrata (we got ours at Trader Joe's)

Roo is surely googling Burrata on the iPhone

And the winner is (surprise surprise) Frigo String Cheese by a vote of 2-1. Looly chose the Burrata, which sent chills of pride up my spine. She thought it looked just like a present waiting to be unwrapped, which isn't far from the truth, and smeared it over sliced bread to make her own hors d'oeuvres. Roo claimed to enjoy all three varieties, but the string cheese was the only one that showed any visible teeth marks after his taste. Bean is a string cheese girl all the way. She can't stand mushy cheese and found both the fresh mozzarella and Burrata "watery, slippery and not yummy."

Taste test complete, hefty ball of Burrata on a plate, I was left no choice.

Burrata and Heirloom Tomatoes

1 ball Burrata cheese
1/2 pint heirloom grape tomatoes, halved
good quality, fruity olive oil
balsamic vinegar
Kosher salt
black pepper, freshly cracked
1/4 cup basil, sliced (chiffonade is prettiest)

1. Place Burrata on a plate. Top with tomatoes. Drizzle olive oil and balsamic vinegar on top. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Top with basil. Let the whole hot mess come to room temperature if you can stand the wait. Scoop in into your mouth with a freshly sliced baguette.

Watermelon Feta Salad

Looly and Roo love feta cheese. All three of the KC kids slurp watermelon like it's going out of style. Frankly I don't have much in my arsenal better than this to get them to eat an actual salad.

But as far as fruit and feta go, Mufasa is a skeptic. The rosé helps. And the fact that I use mint from his herb garden. Mint has a habit of taking over that thing.

The recipe couldn't be simpler. Just focus on the freshest, highest quality ingredients you can find. I know you've heard it a million times but it really counts here. No joke.

Watermelon Feta Salad*
(adapted from Barefoot Contessa)

4 cups baby salad greens, rinsed and dried (arugula would be peppery and tasty, but it's a bit strong for my kids, so I went with mixed greens instead)
1 cup chopped mint
2 cups watermelon, cubed
8 ounces feta cheese, cubed
juice of 1 lemon
juice of 1 orange
1 shallot, minced
1 tbsp. honey
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. black pepper
1/4 cup olive oil

1. Place salad greens, mint, watermelon, and feta in a large bowl.
2. To make the vinaigrette, combine citrus juices, shallot, honey, salt, and pepper. Whisk well. Slowly drizzle in olive oil, whisking continuously. Pour over salad mixture and toss to coat. Serve immediately, outside on the porch.

*This, like many of my favorites, can be served deconstructed for the most persnickety diners, aka my children. Watermelon. Feta. Greens. Orange slices. 'Nuff said.

The Gastrokid Cookbook Review

Looly reads cookbooks like a teenage boy with the Victoria's Secret catalog. She sneaks them out of my cupboard and hides them under her bed. She's long preferred thumbing through a few recipes over just about anything else, except Little House on the Prairie. As a result of her fanaticism, we've developed quite a collection of cookbooks aimed at kids. Some are truly phenomenal. Others, not so much.

I admit I'm the one who brought The Gastrokid Cookbook by Hugh Garvey and Matthew Yoemans into the house. I bought it on sale as a birthday gift for Looly because the premise resonated with me: The Foodie Parent's Essential Guide to Raising Passionate, Adventurous Eaters!

I'm not sure I really fit the "foodie" bill. In fact, that word kind of makes me want to throw up, but I do have a well-established interest in cooking and eating and feeding my family well is a priority. I was sold.

Unfortunately, the tone of the book is inherently insulting. And it's a complete and utter shame because the recipes themselves are not bad at all. Grilled Japanese Eggplant with Haloumi and Mint, Salmon Saltimbocca, and Pork with Carmelized Milk Sauce all have my name on them. But every time I pick up this book to try one, I can't get past the pedantic tone of these two idiots, Yoemans and Garvey.

The introduction begins:

"If you're a parent, you don't have time to read cookbooks, which is why we wrote this one."

Aside from the obvious question of why the heck they wrote it if they knew no one was going to read it and instead focus on the fact that I am a parent and I have time to read cookbooks. In fact, I love reading cookbooks and find it therapeutic, fulfilling, and an enjoyable way to spend quality time with my kids. Am I a bad parent? Not busy enough? I thought the idea was to focus on the importance of making the time for good food.

But wait, there's more on page 8.

"We are both working dads with full-time jobs, stressed-out wives, school-aged kids..."

Say what? As a female parent and yes, wife, I can only assume neither of these gentleman asked their own wives to do a quick proofread before the book went to print. Perhaps next time they should call me. I could have helped with a few of these pitfalls.

Like #2 in the Gastrokid Rules for Reclaiming the Family Dinner Table which states that you should "Never call your child a picky eater." See, I would have replaced that one with something like this: "Never refer to your wife as chronically stressed-out in a manuscript destined for mass publication."

Then there are the myriad assumptions about what "little palates" like and don't like. There's this pervasive notion that by simply exposing kids to new flavors and adding a quick dipping sauce or wrapping it in bacon, you can create adventurous, healthy, well-rounded eaters. I tend to disagree.

I get that offering a variety of foods and culinary experiences ups the chances kids are going to partake, but as the mother of three children who have been fed the same diet for years yet have vastly different food preferences and tolerances, I attest it's only part of the equation. And while I don't condone a diet of hot dogs and chicken nuggets as Yoemans and Garvey would lead you to believe most of us do, I also don't judge a parent for serving what's going to work best for their family at any given meal.

My final verdict? Buy the book on sale. Tear out the first 13 pages any throw them away. Black out the exclamation pointed tips and facts on the other pages and concentrate on the recipes. They're not half-bad.

Strawberry Picking

'Tis the Season. Strawberry season, that is.

This weekend we made the trek to Olive Berry Acres in Mazon, IL, where despite our kooky Midwest spring of 80-degree March and frosty April, they have fields bursting with ripe berries and plenty of buckets at the ready! At least they did this past weekend. My apologies if you missed the show. It happens so fast. 

The farm is a charming spot to spend a summer morning but don't forget the sunscreen. There's not much shade to be found in a strawberry patch. Luckily the munchkins were adequately slathered and hatted and Mufasa is impervious to sun, or so he claims. But I missed a spot on my own shoulder and learned the lesson the hard way.

We managed close to eight pounds of strawberries in about an hour. Not bad considering each and every berry Roo picked required a thorough inspection by mom or dad before going into his bucket. His rules, not mine.

Looly, Bean, and Roo are seasoned strawberry pickers at this point and don't require the coaxing and cajoling I needed to meet my quota as a child laborer in the fields with my mother. They're happy to pick and pluck as long as they can snag a few juicy bites along the way. The raspberries, however, proved a bit trickier.

I'd forgotten the thorns. With no jeans or long sleeves for the troops, raspberries were up to me and I have the Paris Metro map in blood on my forearms to prove it.

And since our city kids don't often experience the thrills of my youth...like being charged by a bull or abandoned by siblings in the middle of a dense cornfield, they thoroughly enjoyed playing farm kids for a day.

Tex Mex Chicken Soup

I've already talked a lot about Roo's oral delay and textural sensitivities. Thankfully his tolerance to anything bready, beany, mushy, gushy, or slippery is improving but we are still no where near stew territory. He's more of a single ingredient kind of guy. That is why I love recipes that can be easily deconstructed to suit his needs, but still end up looking and tasting like real, actual grown-up meals when they're put together. Like this...

Tex-Mex Chicken Soup
adapted from Cooking Light (June 2012)

2 tbsp. olive oil
1 cup red onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
4 mini sweet peppers, red, yellow, or orange, chopped
1 jalapeño, seeded and minced
1 tbsp. smoked paprika
2 tsp. crushed red pepper (reduce to 1 tsp. if sharing with spice-averse guests)
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. black pepper
3 cups cooked, shredded chicken
2 cups corn kernels (fresh or frozen)
4 cups chicken broth
2 tomatoes, chopped
1 15-ounce can black beans, drained and rinsed
1/4 cup cilantro, chopped
1/2 cup queso fresco, crumbled
1 lime, cut into wedges
tortilla chips

1. Heat a Dutch oven or other large pot over medium-high heat. Add the oil, onion, garlic, peppers, and jalapeño. Saute for a 3 minutes. Add paprika, crushed red pepper, salt, and pepper. Cook for 30 seconds.
2. Add the chicken, corn, broth, tomatoes, and beans. Bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer 10 minutes. Serve with cilantro, queso fresco, lime wedges, and tortilla chips. 

Then, make deconstructed plates for the kiddos using the ingredients on hand. Everybody wins.