English Gingersnaps

Confession: I have 9 posts in my queue to publish for this blog. All have photos, titles, and recipe page numbers. But they're waiting for words. I clearly can cook faster than I can (or have time to) write. So, what's a girl to do? Since the purpose of this space is to share enthusiasm for the breadth of recipes in The Big Red Book -- I'm going to do it in a way that works for me.

Going forward, I will just be posting recipe names, page numbers, photos, and at most a single paragraph about each recipe. It will be brief, but it'll give me more breathing room to showcase the fantastic selection in The Book and hopefully inspire you to reach for one of your own cookbooks, even if it isn't Big Red.

Now, regarding the English Gingersnaps. Although they pack a nice ginger punch, they were more cakey than I'd like. I'll leave them in the oven longer next time. I also couldn't stop thinking about my grandmother's peanut butter cookies that she crosshatched with a fork like this recipe suggests to do (see above photo). Next time, I'll leave these cookies un-hatched -- but that's just personal.

That said, they give your house the perfect aroma to put up the Christmas tree and holiday lights. And that's exactly what I did.

Recipe on page 693

Crispy Chickpeas with Ground Meat

If there's one recipe in this book that I've made more than any others, this is it. I deviate a bit from the recipe as I don't add very much liquid (always afraid it won't cook off, despite Ms. Hesser's assuring note in the header). 

My husband especially loves this. It has a masculine quality without being too heavy. We have red meat a few nights a week, and this is the most common way we get it. It's become a staple one-pot pantry dish, without feeling like one. We're always excited to have it again. You can vary the intensity of the spices depending on what you serve it with, and you could even take it to the stew-level per the recipe instructions. 

Plus, it's really easy. You just heat a large skillet, brown your ground meat, and add canned chickpeas and stir until they start browning (and popping!). Then add your spices (cumin, chile) and aforementioned liquid. Let it simmer until the liquid is cooked off. The recipe calls for 1 cup of the reserved liquid from the can of chickpeas but I usually add just 1/2 cup. 

Either way, have fun with it -- make it and eat it often! Neither is hard. 

Recipe on page 558 in The Book

Couscous Salad

Thanks to the Twitter-gods, I got virtual help with this recipe from Ms. Hesser herself. Not that I was in a real bind, but I wanted to know if she used regular or pearled couscous. Turns out either is fine; I used regular. I made it in early summer before my in-laws were about to arrive. It's always A Thing, cooking for them. They're from Eastern Europe and have relatively conservative and light palates. Despite what they say about not needing to go to such lengths to cook for them, I know they don't travel across the world to eat more boiled eggs and cabbage. A diligent search through my cookbooks lead me to this recipe, and let me tell you -- it was a pot of gold. In more ways than one.

The recipe is a combination of sweet and savory goodness. Among other things, it calls for carrots, celery, chicken stock, as well as cinnamon and dates. I left my celery and carrots on the coarse side (I was making these cookies at the same time and the oven timer was likely going off), but I wish I hadn't. Everything in this salad wants to be on the small side.

I dubbed this the 'cinnamon-scented pot of gold' in a Tweet back to Ms. Hesser, a name which she eagerly approved of. I doubled the recipe and it also solved The Other Thing, making office lunches. It'd be good any time of year, really. To round it out as an entire meal you could even add bits of poached chicken.

Recipe on Page 321 in The Book

Cafe au Lait

I'm usually an extremist when it comes to coffe. Depending on the weather, my mood, or the morning's breakfast prospects, I'll either have it black or with a generous slip of cream. Rarely milk.

I don't do lattes, but if I were to have milk with my morning java, it would most certainly be in the form of a cafe au lait. The 1:1 milk-to-coffee ratio in a cafe au lait sits fairly in the middle of my normal spectrum. The Book's recipe, if one could call it that, comes to us as a letter to the editor which suggests using France's cafe au lait habit as an antidote to our animal-heavy diets.

Give it what reason you will. I'm a cafe au lait convert.
Recipe on page 9 in The Book

Corn Griddle Cakes with Parmesan and Chives

A blasphemy in August (yep, posting this late), but I used frozen corn for these. Frozen corn, people. It's a shame, and after a week I'm only now able to sleep fully at night. But it worked. I came across this recipe before assembling a dinner of roasted fish and salad. Alas, there was no fresh corn in our possession, but at least 2 bags of frozen. I'm not one to miss an opportunity.

Despite the above Situation, these corn cakes were still out to please. They turn out to be a not-too-delicate but not-too-heavy corn cake that's perfect for late summer/early fall -- with aforementioned fish and green salad.

Recipe on Page 294 in The Book
http://www.eatyourbooks.com/library/recipes/442289/fresh-corn-griddle-cakes-with

Buckwheat Cookies

These cookies are very special. Besides offering an opportunity to dip into the bulk of buckwheat flour I've somehow accumulated, they helped me win over my father-in-law. My in-laws are Eastern European and aren't inclined towards sweet, baked goods as much as we are across the pond. But I couldn't help myself from wanting to have a warm, baked good here for them when they arrived to the States.

In the introduction to this recipe, Ms. Hesser suggests that these cookies taste like wet stone -- in a good way. She's right -- they do. And yes -- in the best possible way. The recipe uses a 1:1 ratio of white to buckwheat flour -- a bit more aggressive than most baked-good recipes with buckwheat flour. The 1:1 ratio makes for an interesting, but still pleasant, sweet grain flavor.

The first time I made them was when my then soon-to-be in-laws came for our wedding last September. My father in-law swooned immediately. These being especially good with tea only helped matters along. I made them this summer on their most-recent visit and he was equally smitten. I'm now aware of an unspoken request for their future visits. I'll gladly oblige.

Recipe on page 702 in The Book

Roasted Salmon with Herb Vinaigrette

Salmon and vinaigrette is a winning combination. Living in the Pacific Northwest means having fish on the table at least 2-3 times per week, so I was thrilled to find a simple alternative to our usual olive oil drizzle, salt sprinkle, and lemon squeeze. (in that order) 

Roasting fish is my method of choice, which was indication No. 1 that this recipe and I would get along. Indication No. 2 was mustard; I love it. This sprightly vinaigrette helps the roasted fish come out of its slumber and sing. The herbs (I used a combination of fresh and dried) and mustard make it truly special. It's what sets it apart from my usual drizzle, sprinkle, squeeze routine noted above.  

The recipe in The Book makes a large quantity of vinaigrette and suggests slicing potatoes to roast underneath the salmon. I nearly quartered the vinaigrette recipe it for our smaller piece of fish and made the recipe sans potatoes. 

Recipe on page 430 in The Book

Also available on The New York times Web site, here.