Rolling in Dough

Embracing My Inner Martha

Thanksgiving was yesterday and the preparations got me thinking about how differently people cook and eat. I had just read that 11 percent of Americans take their turkey in a restaurant (no leftovers?), and that 53 percent of the rest bought prepared stuff from the grocery. That leaves only 36 percent who actually participate in cooking their own turkey and the surrounding accoutrements.

Thanksgiving is primarily a holiday of traditions, and most people cook the same things every year. I've noticed that people seem to have certain jobs - who makes the green bean casserole, or who always  brings dessert. My assigned role is to make bread and cranberry sauce, so early every Thanksgiving morning, you can find me in the kitchen, baking some version of Parker House Rolls and stirring cranberries until they pop. Yesterday, as I was beginning the process of turning ordinary ingredients into a tradition, I was thinking of Martha.

As I plan, shop and cook for the holidays, I always rediscover my inner Martha Stewart. I know many people don't like Martha, I think this has much to do with guilt. People know that they too could cook, decorate and garden, if only they tried, but rather than giving it a shot, they find it easier to write Martha off as a pushy domestic demon (find these people in the 64 percent who buy prepared food and eat out). But I think Martha's message is simply that anything worth doing is worth doing well, and to me this especially applies to cooking.

As I was kneading the dough and stirring the cranberry sauce, I was having a Martha minute, thinking of how much I was enjoying the process, really being in the moment, and pouring myself into making the  rolls and sauce the best that they could be. Anyone that cooks knows that time and heart put into cooking don't necessarily equal awe and gratitude around the table. It never fails to amaze me how many people eat simply to survive, without thinking about the experience at all (These are more people who are probably buying their Thanksgiving dinner at the deli). But I'm not doing it for them. I'm kneading rolls and stirring cranberries for the couple of people who, each year remind me how they like their rolls (soft and barely baked), or who swoon over the cherried cranberry sauce. I want people to love what I've cooked for them, sigh with delight when they taste my dishes and pant while they ask when I will make it again. That is why I cook. It's a good thing.

I found this recipe in Saveur a couple of years ago. It's a fantastic twist on Cranberry sauce and a far cry from the jellied sauce that stays can shaped after you've poured it into the dish. Play with the flavorings - I've used dried cherries, frozen cherries, tart pie cherries and coarsely chopped lemon zest - all are  wonderful, but bring different flavors to the party.

Cherried Cranberry Sauce

12 oz. fresh cranberries, rinsed

1 cup sugar

1/2 cup fresh orange juice

1 tsp freshly grated lemon zest

1 cup pitted cherries

1/2 cup water

Put all of the ingredients into a saucepan and simmer over medium heat, stirring often until the sugar dissolves and the cranberries pop, 10-15 minutes. Reduce heat to low and cook another 5 minutes. Set aside to cool, stirring occasionally. Put into a covered bowl and refrigerate until well chilled. The sauce will keep about 2 weeks - but will be gone long before that. Makes about 3 cups.

    

Maple Ginger Bear Cookies

It's always amazing to me where inspiration comes from, usually when you least expect it. As I have mentioned, I have been so busy with a project lately, I have spent virtually no time in the kitchen. Without my even realizing it, food had become something I began thinking of about 5:30 in the evening, wondering what I could pull together to put on a plate, hoping it resembled dinner. But I realized this weekend, in addition to not cooking, I haven't even been thinking about food. Prior to the "Project", I spent time prowling the gourmet shops, reveling in the sensory overload of being around so many wonderful smelling and colorful things. It was not unusual for me to make extra sales calls, simply to be in the neighborhood of the Savory Spice Shop. And on Thursday afternoons you could usually find me at Whole Foods, bellied up to the bar, indulging in their complimentary wine and cheese tasting. I read food magazines and surfed the food blogs, always planning my next food adventure. But I haven't been doing any of this. How could I have stopped being a foodie in such a short time? And how did I not even notice?

I've got a new friend, Claudia. She works in one of my salons and she has a daughter a little younger than mine. Did you ever meet someone and then find out all kinds of unusual things that you had in common? Spooky things that you would never expect? Claudia is that person for me. She has been telling me all summer that I needed to see the movie Ratatouille, but I had been putting it off. I should have listened to her. On Sunday, Lovie decided that we should go. We had waited long enough that Ratatouille was playing at the dollar theater (Why is it $1 to see the movie, but the popcorn costs $8?). So we called Claudia and  invited her go with us to see Ratatouille.

I LOVED IT! I loved everything about it - the french back story, the kitchen, the way Paris looked, the "Grim Eater" food critic, everything. But the most interesting thing is, Ratatouille - a animated movie, stirred the foodie within me back to life. Sitting in the theatre, I began to be hungry for a dinner of good bread, creamy cheese and a bottle of red. I began to miss cooking and everything that went with it - the smells, the colors, the flavors and the magic that occurs when simple ingredients are combined in an inspired way. Unbelievable. When the movie was over, Claudia suggested we hit the Whole Foods around the corner, she needed to pick up a few things. Umm, OK, twist my arm. So we capped off the afternoon with a trip through foodie heaven, where everything is beautifully displayed, they have samples of cheeses I've never tried, and the hand dipped chocolates and fresh pastries make me swoon. I came home ready to cook. I made a spinach, artichoke goat cheese tart for dinner and felt quite French eating it with crusty bread and a glass of red. And yesterday, I spent the afternoon in the kitchen stirring a pot of lentil soup, reading the newest Saveur, drinking tea and making Maple Ginger Bear cookies. 

Here is the recipe for Maple Ginger Bears. They are soft and wonderful, and the flavor reminds me of falling leaves - a great Autumn cookie. They are not as strong as typical gingerbread cookies. I used maple syrup in place of the usual molasses, giving them a lighter, gently spicy flavor. Lovie and Mike loved them. Enjoy them with a glass of milk or as I did, alongside a cup of tea, while pondering my inner foodie. I don't know where she went, but I'm so glad that Ratatouille inspired her to come home again. Thank you Claudia!

Golden Maple Ginger Bears -

3 cups AP flour

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

2 teaspoons of cinnamon

Pinch of salt

2/3 cup butter, cut into chunks

2/3 cup sugar

4 tablespoons of maple syrup

2 eggs

Sift the flour, baking soda and salt together in a mixing bowl. Rub in the butter, like you are making pastry, until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Add the sugar, maple syrup and eggs and mix to make a firm dough. Knead the dough lightly to bring it together. Wrap it in plastic wrap and chill for 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Roll out the dough and cut into shapes. Bake about 13 minutes until your cookies are just starting to brown around the edges, but are still soft. Let cool on the baking sheets for 3-4 minutes and finish cooling on wire racks.

Make a glaze of 1 cup powdered sugar and a few drops of water. Drizzle over your cookies. Eat several at a time.