A NEARLY PERFECT THANKSGIVING

The table is set with my great grandmother, Hannah's china

It's Thanksgiving day and I've been working on the big feast for a better part of a week.  The turkey stock was the first step with five pounds of turkey wings, carrots, celery, leeks, onions stuck with whole cloves, peppercorns, and parsley.  Once done, it chilled outside overnight so I could easily lift the cold fat that rose to the surface.  Strained, and reduced, some of it was frozen for soup in January with two quarts for the big day.

My mis-matched sterling flatware, freshly polished

Cranberry sauce was next.  I've been doing Craig Claiborne's cranberry orange relish from his 1961 masterwork, The New York Times Cookbook.  Its got whole fresh cranberries (when I first started making this, Cranberries were available in pound bags, but have been 12-ounces for many years now, and I 've had to adapt Claiborne's original), orange zest, orange juice, sugar, and toasted almond slivers.  It's still my favorite and after Thanksgiving, I'm often in the fridge with a spoon, which I eat right out of the container.

I've been also making a braided loaf of bread with onion (sometimes scallions), sour cream, flour, dill weed and dill seed, salt, yeast, egg, etc.  I've made it by hand, in the bread machine, or adapted it so that the bread machine mixes and kneads the dough and I let it rise and bake it in the oven.  I've been made it into rolls.  This year I did the whole braided loaf.  It makes fantastic sandwiches for the leftovers.

I should have known there was something wrong with this pie.  It was far more pale looking than I ever remembered.

Pumpkin pie is the only dessert I'm bothering with this year--we're only five people.  I use pureed canned pumpkin, do my own spice mix and make my own pie crust.  I'll serve it with whipped cream.

Creamed onions were next.  A Mowery family tradition, my version has changed often.  At one point I was making a six-onion casserole (leeks, Spanish onions, shallots, scallions, pearl onions, and chives), but I wanted something simpler this year.  So going back to basics, I parboiled a pound of frozen pearl onions (so much easier than peeling all those little ones and no tears) and while they were draining, put two tablespoons of butter in a sauce pan and when melted, added to tablespoons of flour and mixed it into a roux for about two minutes before adding a about two cups of turkey stock and a pinch of cayenne. I finished the sauce with two tablespoons of homemade creme fraiche  before adding the onions back to the veloute.  Into a covered baking dish they went before being refrigerated overnight.  All they would need was a dusting of Asiago and Parmesan cheese before baking.  

John Baker, one of my guests, sent over a gorgeous arrangement of flowers for the table, and I decided to bring out the good china and silver and really set a proper table.


Last night I assembled the stuffing--a grand mix of Italian sausage, cornbread cubes from Trader Joe's (without the usual spices and preservatives), leeks, mushrooms, an orange pepper, celery, onions, fresh chopped parsley, egg and turkey stock.  I combined a special poultry mix of my own for the first time instead of using that classic stuffing spice mixture from the supermarket. The combination included fresh rosemary, thyme.  My sage in the garden had frozen, so the balance of herbs and spices came from the pantry:  marjoram, red pepper flakes, salt, onion and garlic powders, and freshly ground black pepper.  This was packed into a big baking dish and refrigerated overnight.

The whole Thanksgiving enchilada

I always get a small turkey--no more than 14 pounds because I've been making a turkey that I saw Julia Child demonstrate in the 80s and I never veer from this method.  It's virtually boneless (except for the drumsticks) with the wings removed entirely, and the whole thing turned skin side up in a large roasting pan.  I put a light film of canola oil over the skin, and dust it with dried thyme, salt and pepper.  I broil it for 45 minutes (tenting the bird if the skin gets too browned), and then finish the final 45 minutes in the oven.  Julia originally did it in a grill, but it's too cold to do that here.  What emerges from the oven is a gorgeously browned bird with uniformly well cooked (and not over-cooked) breast and thigh meat. It's a joy to carve and clean up is a breeze.  I have enough pan juices for an excellent gravy.


This morning, I boned the turkey and managed for the first time to stab myself with the boning knife twice, and then when I was breaking the carcass down to put in a bag for the freezer, a sharp bone cut a line in the palm of my hand.  I think the turkey was getting its revenge. It was a war zone in my kitchen!

The last item besides the gravy was an inspired combination.  I tossed large Brussels sprouts onto a baking sheet with a combination of cut purple, red bliss and Yukon gold potatoes and extra virgin olive oil and mixed in fresh rosemary leaves, and thyme sprigs and salt.  They would roast in the oven with the dressing and onions while the turkey rested and I made the gravy.  


The wonderful thing about this turkey preparation is that there's just a small amount of fat, so you don't really have to separate them fat from the juice--it's about two tablespoons.  So I heated up the pan juices and mixed a quarter cup of flour into about a cup of cold water.  I poured this mixed slurry into my roasting pan an stirred for about a minute or so to cook off the flour before adding about 1/2 cup of white wine and then turkey stock, whisking the combination vigorously as the flour dissolved and formed a silky sauce as I scraped up the fond at the bottom of the pan which helped to brown the gravy.  Salt, pepper, dried thyme were added next before the final addition of three tablespoons of creme fraiche.  


We sat down to eat at about 5:15 PM.  My Thanksgiving dinner was a triumph. I've never made a better stuffing in my life.  The decision to make my own sage-based seasoning, and then the last-minute idea of adding a big pinch of red pepper flakes to the stuffing added something very special.  Instead of heat, the pepper flakes added a peppery warmth that was even better at lunch this afternoon.  The other inspired decision was the combination of Brussels sprouts with the potatoes and herbs.  I'll never put myself through the inconvenience of mashed potatoes again.  The vegetables were golden and tender.  


John's Drouhin Oregon Pinot Noir perfectly complimented our meal.  The table looked gorgeous and I sat watching my friends eating and drinking and laughing, thinking to myself we indeed had something to be thankful about on this day.  Even the perpetual Portland rain took a vacation.  It was sunny outside. 

So there I was smugly basking in the compliments of my guests, proud that I had not over-eaten.  We had espresso and then dessert.  Good thing Jean-Francois brought a very pretty, small white layer cake with raspberry filing and a white chocolate genache frosting.  Why? When I put a forkful of pumpkin pie in my mouth, I had a rude reaction.  "Blech," I said to myself as I put my fork down.  I forgot the sugar!  

left to right Kyle, John Baker, Jean-Francois and Jay

Hope everyone enjoyed their Thanksgiving!

MAGICAL RENEWING SANTA FE

Sunrise at 6:45 am in Santa Fe 

A view from the mountains surrounding Santa Fe

Spent last weekend attending a publishing conference in Santa Fe where I was invited to participate in a panel on old and new media (me representing old) by my good friend Kent Watson.  It was fun.  I arrived tired, and sore with plantar’s faciitis in my right heel and feeling I needed some renewal. Santa Fe was just what the doctor ordered.  I flew down with my good friends, Ruth and Alan Centofante.  Alan is in the magazine business and Ruth is a writer, currently finishing up a memoir about her harrowing childhood in Mexico and her subsequent move back to the U.S. to raise her siblings after the death of her parents.  They were wonderful companions, and we pretty much hung out throughout the weekend.  We skipped the boring bits of the conference, and shopped, dined, took in the sights, thoroughly enjoying ourselves. 

Dining in Santa Fe can be a frustrating experience because so many of the most popular restaurants indulge in the ridiculous habit of no reservations.  Therefore one is constantly finding oneself standing in line waiting to for a a free table. I have always deplored this policy, especially in a popular place such as Santa Fe.  There are plenty of restaurants of quality there.  What’s the problem? Well simply put, when they are lining up outside the door, who needs a reservation. We couldn’t get into The Shed, apparently a must-go-to and hoppingly busy destination near our hotel on Thursday night, and we couldn’t get into Café Pasqual’s for lunch the next day. I don't wait for anything. Right across the street was the St. Francis Hotel. So we ended up having lunch in this beautiful Hacienda-style hotel with a gorgeous dining room called Tabla de Los Santos. We liked the look of the menu offering a small, but very well priced lunch. As we watched people wait and wait and wait to get into a restaurant we had attempted to breach across the street, the waitress served us that wonderful guacamole. Then she placed before me a not-too-large oval plate.  In the middle was a not-too-large dark green roasted poblano pepper surrounded by the most silky nutmeg brown sauce. It wasn't a mole sauce and it definitely had a European technique--no chunks or lumps. Inside the perfectly roasted pepper was finely chopped mushrooms.  It had only a hint of smoke and heat in each bite, but each bite was perfect. I've never eaten such a refined chile relleno.  The sauce was vegetable-based and it was thickened with vegetables and then put through a sieve. And for dessert we shared a dish of goat's milk flan with vanilla bean. It was denser than your typical flan but I don't meant to imply it was heavier--not it wasn't.  It too was special.  I think the bill came to about $22 per person with a glass of Alberino (one of my favorite white wines). A lovely lunch.  

I’ve never seen so many jewelry stores outside of Las Vegas, Apsen, the famous bridge over the Arno in Florence, and West 47^th Street in New York City. The city boasts lots of art galleries, and boutiques selling gorgeous things.  I’m not immune and bought a wonderful widely horizontal photograph of a photoographer’s superbly scenic backyard of mountains, clouds and trees in colors of pinks, blues, grays and blacks. I’ll have it re-matted and framed for the guest room. 

My room at the Hotel La Fonda, Santa Fe

A fireplace in my hotel room

The hotel location for the conference was the vintage La Fonda—an old but well preserved Santa-Fe-style inn perfectly located on E. San Francisco—the main street one block from the town square and across the street from the huge Catholic church across the street. My room was the size of a football field. My only complaint was the stone-heavy down comforter which I couldn’t sleep under without feeling like I was being smothered. 

The hotel has an amazing concierge.  Because my feet hurt, I asked him to recommend a pedicurist and he sent me to Goro, a Japanese man of indeterminate age who had a studio a short cab ride away.  For and hour and a half, this genius (who did a lot of stars during his years in West Hollywood), worked on my feet, my shins and my calves, kneading and massaging and restoring my abused feet. It was amazing.  I think I’ve had one pedicure in my life, and realize I’m going to have to do it more often.

An amazing roast leg of lamb burrito form Atrisco Cafe in Santa Fe

The concierge also recommended a restaurant off the beaten path where I organized a group dinner after a bookstore reception on Friday night. Atrisco Café & Bar is located in a not-so-promising shopping mall outside of the Santa Fe’s town center.  And it’s as suburban looking as a restaurant can get, but at this family-run place, the food does all the talking.  I gave them very little notice that eight of us would be there for dinner at the height of dinner rush on Friday night.  The concierge told me that I must order one thing—the Roast Leg of Lamb Burrito.  As described in menu, this wondrous  creation is chocked full of the most amazingly tender locally grown leg of lamb, thinly sliced and wrapped in a large tortilla. I ordered it with the mild green chili sauce with a sprinkling of cheese which melted in the warm sauce by the time it reached the table. I was not alone in choosing this fabulous burrito.  It was thoroughly Tex-Mex in style but what a combination of simple ingredients—which always make for the best dishes. I ate every bite of this scrumptious dish and think everyone should make a pilgrimage to Santa Fe to sample it. 

On Saturday despite the gorgeous weather outside (you can understand why artists find the light in Santa Fe so special), my time was pretty much spoken for by the conference.  For dinner, Ruth, Alan and I chose El Farol, a popular and well-established Spanish restaurant specializing in tapas on Canyon Road, the popular street lined with art gallery after art gallery.  I had been to El Farol on a previous visit to Santa Fe for a week-long immersion of opera.  The menu of tapas is fantastic, and we decided that’s all we would eat. I got to select the wine and we shared a sensational bottle of tempranillo from the Ribera del Duero wine region of Spain to compliment all those lovely small plates.  There were potatoes bravas (roasted potatoes with a spicy sauce), beef skewers with a chimichura sauce, deep fried artichokes, Caesar salad, cured black olives with orange sections, spicy almonds, baked polenta, a mixture of wild mushrooms, fried calamari and other indulgent things. 

Ruth and me doing the tourist photo posing at El Farol

Tapas as El Farol

Me, Kent and Alan in a garden sculpture gallery in chairs made of stone

Wind Sculptures on Canyon Road, Santa Fe

Fall colors in Santa Fe

A crazy fountain of sculpture on Canyon Road

On Sunday morning, well fortified with a good breakfast, we hit Canyon Road, walking into one gallery after another.  But the thing I really love about Santa Fe is its architecture, and I got to add a few more “doors” to my collection (I photograph doors wherever I go--some of the best in the genre can be found in France and Italy). 

It was great little get-away. Back to rainy Portland where my garden and spirits are thoroughly drenched.  

POST-ELECTION DOLDRUMS

Before I get to the depressing news of the week, he's a sweet photo of my niece, Christina-Marie and her mother, Rossi.  My brother, Doug, 

Between Dancing with the Stars and the elections, my nerves took a helluva beating this week.  Why in the world has Dancing with the Stars allowed Sarah Palin’s ungainly, clumsy daughter to remain in the competition to the point where she is in the final five and presumably because of Palin’s Mama Grizzlies, could end up in the finals??? Florence Henderson, Audrina, and now Rick Fox, all of whom have received superior judge’s scores over Bristol's, are now gone.  For the moment, the fix certainly looks in for Bristol’s success and it is sickening.  I have no axe to grind with the girl other than the fact that she is a supremely untalented dancer in addition to being a total blank on stage.  Dumb that she’s been allowed to advance so far. 

Then we had the elections.  We were led to believe Barney Frank’s congressional seat was in serious jeopardy, only to find out the day after the election that he had trounced his competition, and by a considerable percentage.  Good to see Harry Reid survive the vicious, mean-spirited and insanely fictional campaign Sharron Angle launched to unseat him, only it blew up in her face.  She falsely claimed that the huge Nevada Hispanic population is either a scary bunch of gang thugs, or are getting free health care because they are illegal immigrants. Good thing that pack of lies blew up in her face.  Hope she fades forever.  Then there was Christine O’Donnell, beloved media icon who went down in flames in Delaware.  Good riddance.  The Tea Party lunatic fringe is doing nothing for their constituency by backing embarrassing candidates such as these two. The Fox legal department is working overtime on contracts for these imbeciles.  

Meanwhile, none of the Republicans who ran for office claiming they will lower government spending can tell us how they will lower spending.  Let’s hold their feet to the fire.  Score cards in two years, please.  And then we can send them packing. 

Here in Oregon, Governor Kitzhaber won his third term by a hair.  I’m not all impressed—I mean, what did he do in his first two terms in office?  Not much, is my guess, but he beats his Republican opposition any day of the week.  One thing he could do is insist that local governments stop wasting tax payer dollars by renaming streets, such as in Portland where SE 39^th Ave. has been changed to Cesar Chavez Boulevard.  No disrespect to Mr. Chavez, a hero to farm workers everywhere.  But couldn’t they have renamed a park after him?  All that new signage was expensive and unnecessary.  And couldn’t the city council have been better utilized on more important issues?

And while we're kicking dumb, offensive, stupid, and mendacious politicians, let's not forget the media.  Keith Olbermann donating to Democratic causes was simply wrong.  He's a journalist (or pretends to be) and an important oppositional voice, and now he'll have the jackals at Fox and fatso mouth himself (I cannot bear to name this insanely mendacious radio host) crowing with glee over his stupidity.  Will people never learn--you don't give Repugs any ammo, ever.

So instead of a nervous breakdown, another photo of my adorable niece.

A PROFESSIONALLY REWARDING WEEK

Leslie Cole, Dorie Greenspan and Martha Holmberg

I've been handling the publicity chores for the launch of Dorie Greenspan's fabulous new cookbook, AROUND MY FRENCH TABLE.  The attention this book has received in print, on the Internet and on radio has been wonderful, and one of the most fulfilling cookbook projects I've ever worked on.  I've been cooking out of the book, and I can see why Dorie is so well liked by cookbook lovers. The recipes really work and she's made French home cooking entirely accessible, concentrating on flavors and ease of preparation rather than taking the "chef" approach and underlining technique.  I had never worked with Dorie nor met her before.  She was in Portland on Tuesday where we kept her busy with a big round of interviews and I got a chance to spend some time with her that evening, but not before she did a fantastic event at the Heathman restaurant which co-sponsored (along with Powell's Books) the event where Dorie talked about her life in Paris (she lives there part of the year) and her association with Julia Child (Dorie wrote a bestselling baking book based on Julia Child baking series on PBS-TV), Pierre Herme (acknowledged as France's premier pastry chef, and with whom she has written two cookbooks), and Daniel Boulud, the most famous French chef in New York (Dorie co-authored a book with Boulud as well).  I was lucky to introduce Dorie and Martha Holmberg, the former food editor of The Oregonian.  The two of the kept a packed audience of more than 260 people highly entertained as they discussed how French food has evolved over the years. Other friends arrived including Nancy and Paul Frisch, Trish Hamilton (my preserving buddy), and Ivy Manning, who had written a big cover-story on Dorie and the book for the FoodDay pages of the Oregonian the week before.  Ivy, a talented cookbook writer, has been a wonderful pal since I arrived in Portland, and she's helped introduce me to a large swath of the food community.  She's also been my source for finding new restaurants.  


Aftewards Dorie, her husband Michael, and Martha had dinner together in the Heathman restauarant where they were featuring five recipes from the book to diners in the restaurant that evening. I ordered the trio of rillettes (one of sardines, one of fresh and smoked salmon and one of tuna with curry) has inspired me to make these wonderful spreads for crackers, and a superb grilled swordfish.  It was a memorable evening and I was happy to spend some time with my very tired author (she's been working non-stop on the promotion of the book since mid-September).  Here's a photo of Dorie after the event with Martha Holmberg and Leslie Cole, who is also a food writer for the Oregonian.  


On Thursday I got to guest lecture again for my friend, Kent's publishing course class.  This is about the fourth time I've spoken to Kent's students.  Each class is different and gives you a different kind of energy.  Last night's class was my very favorite.  They were attentive, inquisitive, and asked a lot of questions about book publicity and I was able to share with them plenty of naughty war stories (my way of getting even with some unpleasant authors I've worked with in the past, as well as affectionate stories of authors I've enjoyed meeting).  We covered social media, which I'm rather new at and gaining some feelings of support for.  I find most people waste a lot of time on the Internet (myself included), but it is the wave of the future, and books are going to find more hospitable audience there as we gain more confidence about what is possible in cyberspace.

I've found a terrific shop not to far from my house where I've actually bought a number of things such as my bookshelves in the dining room that house my cookbook collection (or most of it), my dining room chairs, a red leather ottoman in the living room, a desk lamp and Chinese cabinet in my office (see above), a wooden chair table for the patio, an antique wrought iron plant stand, and a wonderfully campy black urn adorned with Greek classical images that I use as a doorstop for my bedroom balcony door. I even had the store sell a china cabinet for me that I no longer needed.  So when I started to look for a bookshelf for my bedroom, I found what I was looking for at Portico.  Originally I thought of a smallish bookshelf--not too tall, for a corner wall.  The wainscoting rises about 2/3 of the way up the walls, and it is painted white. I didn't want a dark, heavy shelf.  It would look too gloomy.  The rest of the furniture in the room is a light colored pine, which also dictated a lighter touch.  I found this sturdy and open bamboo and rattan shelf unit.  It was the perfect height, and it's open shelving made it idea to hold books without looking heavy. I even found it an ideal place to house my small stereo unit. Best of all these wonderful and gracefully aged pieces were so inexpensive.  The cabinet was $63 and the bookshelf unit was $68.  

The weather reports have promised rain all week and it's been gorgeous with warm sunshine every day this week.  We had a touch of rain last night.  I'm learning never to believe the reports I read when I check on the weather in Portland.  If the report says rain, I know the sun will be out.  If they predict sunshine, I reach for a hat and an umbrella.


I've still got some gardening chores to get done before the rains and the cold weather do finally arrive.  The weekend looks pretty open so I know what I'll be doing. 

LAST EPISODE OF MAD MEN...

Amidst all the madness of a busy fall season comes the sad news that the Season Four finale of MAD MEN is on tonight.  We'll have to wait until next July for a new season.  Not fair.  The smartest, brightest TV series on the air keeps you guessing about the characters while you follow the show as you would a good novel.  The only other series show I'm watching on network TV this season is the excellent THE GOOD WIFE.  Crackerjack cast, smart writing, slick pacing and complex characters, make this show the one bright reason to continue to endure commercials.  A friend has been nagging me to tune into Martin Scorcese's new BOARDWALK EMPIRE, which I did this week.  I think Scorcese's mined this territory one too many times.  Good acting, smart writing and direction are engaging.  But I walked away from that first episode thinking, been there, done that.

Made these killer brownies from a recent book, READY FOR DESSERT by David Lebovitz.  Chocolate, butter, sugar, hazelnuts, and a tiny bit of flour.  All else is just window dressing.


The only other TV I'm watching this season is TOP CHEF:  Just Desserts, which is full of snotty back-stabbing cheflets with mean agendas.  This crew will throw each other under a bus in a heartbeat.  Hard to root for a winner when they are all this ruthless.  Of course I have to have my daily fix of HG-TV, the Law and Order of my generation. There's something so pure about young couples having orgasms about stainless steel and granite counter tops.


Work has been really fun and challenging. I'm working on three cookbooks at once--one a real racehorse for bestsellerdom--AROUND MY FRENCH TABLE.  Dorie Greenspan, the writer, is on tour all over the country and I'm feeling like I'm killing her.  She's had to get up in the middle of the night to travel to Philadelphia, Washington, D.C., Chicago, San Francisco, Seattle, Portland, and five big cities in Texas.  But she's been well received everywhere she's been, and what a hard worker she is.


When I was in New York this fall, I read a cover story on Joan Rivers in New York Magazine that was tied to a documentary about her life called, JOAN RIVERS:  A Piece of Work.  I saw it it on Wednesday night and loved it.  She's a piece of work, an authentic American character, who at 75 is relentless in her pursuit of stardom, maintaining her place on the pantheon of comic stars, which is hard to do when you're an old lady who has become the butt of jokes about cosmetic surgery.  It is alternately fascinating and touching.  I've always loved Joan Rivers.  She's funny.  She dares to say the vulgar, outrageous and over-the-top things we're all thinking and wishing we could say.  She is a dynamic combination of vulgarity, glitz, glamor, naked ambition, intelligence, bitterness and utter honesty. Long may she continue to wave and make me laugh.


Finally planted my cherry tree and rose tree in the back yard.  Still  have much to do before the rainy season hits (another week or so).  Then next month a million bulbs for spring have to go into the ground.  The joints are screaming for Ben-Gay and a massage.  Domestic life is exhausting.

Here is a picture of my lovely young niece, Cristina-Marie and her mother, Rossie next to my newly planted cherry tree.


I'm finishing this as I'm watching the season four finale of MAD MEN.  Don's getting married!  Never saw that coming. Joan has decided to keep the baby.  Peggy's stunned at Don's announcement and Betty's feeling vulnerable and misunderstood.  Wait...Don's getting married???!!!

Finally, here's a better photo of Kyle's frame for a friend's garden.  It now hides the air conditioning unit.

A Fanciful Garden Frame to Hide and Unsightly Air Conditioner Unit

I didn't think Kyle could top the shape and beauty of the brick patio he constructed in my back yard but he has.  My friend Trish has a gorgeous garden.  Her big house is on a corner lot in the Irvington section of NE Portland.  Trish has lavished her considerable energies on this garden. Her husband, Dave, built her a greenhouse from salvaged wood, glass and other materials.  Her side terrace has a gate in which she has installed a handsome metal sculpture of dragonflies.  But Trish didn't like the sight of a large, outdoor central air conditioning unit. Its ungainly sight broke up the tranquil beauty of everything surrounding it. So after replacing a side stairway entrance to the house, Trish asked Kyle if he might create some sort of frame to hide the air conditioning unit.  She had the same metal artist create a new metal dragonfly cutout. All that was left was for Kyle to find the right sort of frame to set it off.  And did he ever.  


The frame is mahogany and it's very heavy.  Over a two-week period, I watched as Kyle drew and re-drew his design, bought the wood, and slowly began to assemble it, constantly refining his design.  Cutting the pieces, sanding the wood's rough edges, the frame began to take shape. Kyle is delivering it today, but not before I asked him to take a picture with his phone.  I meant to photograph it all weekend, but the rain kept interfering with my plans.  So here it is.  I tried to convince Kyle to leave it here for my garden.  Trust me, I'm going to be hounding him for something similar!


My friend Sarah brought me some Asian Pears from her garden.  I used half of them for a jar of Asian Pear apple butter with ginger, nutmeg, lemon juice, white and brown sugar, a bit of apple juice. It turned out well, but I only have one jar, so I may make a big batch of it next year.  It certainly has zipped up my toast this week. The other half was a substitute for apples in a recipe from Dorie Greenspan's fabulous new cookbook, AROUND MY FRENCH TABLE, which I'm doing the publicity for now.  Marie-Hélène's Apple Cake is an elegant, but simple one-layer cake that is mostly apples, held together, spider-web fashion with a small amount of batter composed of flour, butter, eggs, salt, baking powder, dark rum, vanilla and sugar. It's a snap to put together.  It can be served plain with a dusting of powdered sugar, or with a spoon of whipped cream or ice cream.  We ate it plain and it's not too sweet and a good way to end a meal.  It also makes a fine breakfast, as I discovered the next morning. Here's the recipe.

Marie-Hélène’s Apple Cake

Makes 8 servings

My friend Marie-Hélène Brunet-Lhoste is a woman who knows her way around food. She’s a top editor of the Louis Vuitton City Guides (and one of the restaurant critics for the Paris edition), so she eats at scores of restaurants every year, and she’s a terrific hostess, so she cooks at home often and with great generosity. There’s no question that she’s a great cook, but for me, she’s the most frustrating kind of cook: she never follows a recipe (in fact, I don’t think there’s a cookbook to be found on her packed bookshelves), never takes a note about what she does, and while she’s always happy to share her cooking tips, she can never give you a real recipe — she just doesn’t know it.

I’ve watched her in her kitchen, in the hopes of nabbing a recipe by observation, but it’s impossible. Like so many really good cooks, Marie-Hélène starts off with a set of ingredients that could be annotated and recipe-ized, but once she starts mixing, stirring, boiling, baking, or sautéing, she makes so many mid-cooking adjustments that you just have to throw up your hands and content yourself with being the lucky recipient.

And so it was with this apple cake, which is more apple than cake, rather plain but very appealing in its simplicity (the chunks of apple make a bumpy, golden top), and so satisfying that we all went back for seconds. Despite knowing that it was futile, I asked for the recipe, and of course, Marie-Hélène didn’t really know.

“It’s got two eggs, sugar, flour, and melted butter — oh, and rum,” she said. “I mix the eggs and sugar together, and then I add some flour, some butter, some flour, and some butter.” When I asked how much flour and butter, I got a genuinely apologetic shrug, and when I asked what kind of apples she used, the answer was, divers, or different kinds.

Since there were only a few major ingredients, I thought I could figure out the recipe — and I did! (Although not on the first — or second — shot.) I’ve added baking powder to the mix (and I have a feeling Marie-Hélène might have too) and a drizzle of vanilla, which you can skip if you want. What you don’t want to skip is the pleasure of having divers apples. It’s really nice to mix up the fruit, so that you have some apples that are crisp, some soft, some sweet, and some tart.

¾ cup all-purpose flour

¾ teaspoon baking powder

Pinch of salt

4 large apples (if you can, choose 4 different kinds)

2 large eggs

¾ cup sugar

3 tablespoons dark rum

½ teaspoon pure vanilla extract

8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted and cooled

Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Generously butter an 8-inch springform pan. Line a baking sheet with a silicone baking mat or parchment paper and put the springform on it.

Whisk the flour, baking powder, and salt together in a small bowl.

Peel the apples, cut them in half, and remove the cores. Cut the apples into 1- to 2-inch chunks.

In a medium bowl, beat the eggs with a whisk until they’re foamy. Pour in the sugar and whisk for a minute or so to blend. Whisk in the rum and vanilla. Whisk in half the flour and, when it is incorporated, add half the melted butter, followed by the rest of the flour and the remaining butter, mixing gently after each addition so that you have a smooth, rather thick batter. Switch to a rubber spatula and fold in the apples, turning the fruit so that it’s coated with batter. Scrape the mix into the pan and poke it around a little with the spatula so that it’s evenish.

Slide the pan into the oven and bake for 50 to 60 minutes, or until the top of the cake is golden brown and a knife inserted deep into the center comes out clean; the cake may pull away from the sides of the pan. Transfer to a cooling rack and let rest for 5 minutes.

Carefully run a blunt knife around the edges of the cake and remove the sides of the springform pan. (Open the springform slowly, and before it’s fully opened, make sure there aren’t any apples stuck to it.) Allow the cake to cool until it is just slightly warm or at room temperature. If you want to remove the cake from the bottom of the springform pan, wait until the cake is almost cooled, then run a long spatula between the cake and the pan, cover the top of the cake with a piece of parchment or wax paper, and invert it onto a rack. Carefully remove the bottom of the pan and turn the cake over onto a serving dish.

Serving

The cake can be served warm or at room temperature, with or without a little softly whipped barely sweetened heavy cream or a spoonful of ice cream. Marie-Hélène served her cake with cinnamon ice cream, and it was a terrific combination.

Storing

The cake will keep for about 2 days at room temperature and, according to my husband, gets more comforting with each passing day. However long you keep the cake, it’s best not to cover it — it’s too moist. Leave the cake on its plate and just press a piece of plastic wrap or wax paper against the cut surfaces.

HARRY CONNICK, JR. and LEMON MERINGUE PIE

I can tell that fall is with us, not so much by the evidence of the turning leaves, that is taking its sweet old time this season.  The lemon cucumbers in my raised bed are exhausted from all that procreating they have been doing since July.  The leaves are spent and they looked ashen and woebegone. I decided to pull the last of them up while clearing out the old lettuce and dill.  There are still plenty of herbs--oregano, basil, sage, parsley and tarragon.  The chives, thyme and rosemary are in other parts of the garden and should thrive all winter long.  I'm still getting jalapeno peppers and some red leaf lettuce, but that too will be gone soon. It's time to start making room in the house for those plants that will be spending the winter indoors.  My coleus that sands guard outside the front door will occupy the window in the mudroom. Other coleus (have I mentioned how much I love this colorful plant?) now on my balcony will come inside where it can soak in the light pouring through the windows along with a jade plant that I bought early in the spring and is now bursting out its small pot.


I've only got a few short weeks to finish off the garden as it gets prepared for winter.  I'm so happy I didn't get started on the front yard, though it's much improved over last year.  I've got the whole winter to come up with a plan, which will probably include large pavers, and a regrouping of the grasses.  I have to plant a heck of a lot of bulbs in the front yard for the spring, but that's on the docket for November.
There are the trees which have been in their pots all summer long, and the new rose tree, and a few others that haven't quite made it into the grand so far.  I've got to check out what to do with the roses.  I'm not sure when I need to prune them and I wonder if I should put something around their base to keep them warm for the winter.

My tomatoes stubbornly remain green and I found a recipe for chicken thighs with green tomatoes in Melissa Clark's new cookbook.  I haven't made fried green tomatoes in years, but I do have a good recipe for them and there's enough green tomatoes for both recipes.  Two weeks ago, I discovered the Easter Lily that  I planted in the back yard was beginning to bloom.  One bloom of four opened up a few days ago and yesterday, another big white bloom appeared.  I never thought of an Easter Lily as a garden plant let alone a twice-yearly blooming garden plant.  It's lovely.


Harry Connick, Jr. came to town in the last concert of his current tour.  I got free tickets because his principal violinist came to my house for dinner. One of my guests is a buddy and he called at the last minute to say she was in town and would I make room for her.  "Of course," I said.  "Bring her with you."  She had a great time, and to my surprise sent me an e-mail thanking me for dinner with an invitation of two tickets to attend Connick's final concert.  I saw Harry Connick, Jr. in the first flush of his youthful success.  He played concerts on Broadway in New York City with his big band--a handsome, likable musician with a gorgeous voice that reminded everyone of a young Sinatra with a commanding musical presence.  Many years later, Connick has become a mature artist in command of his big talent. At 43, he's disarmingly funny, making a big, personal connection with his audience.  He had injured one of his calf muscles and was under the influence of pain killers, which he readily admitted with exaggerated humor.  He cut up with his fellow musicians, played the trumpet in addition to his piano work and sang his way through a big chunk of the classic American songbook (The Way You Look Tonight was a particularly fine highlight).  Harry Connick, Jr. is an honored son of New Orleans and he brought plenty of Big Easy music to this concert.  His players, many who have played with him for years turned the whole concert into a party.  In fact his principal sax player was celebrating his birthday. A cake was delivered on stage, and the next thing you knew, Harry was passing around slices to members of the audience.  It was a wonderful concert, and the packed hall gave him a monster standing ovation.


My middle brother and his wife and baby daughter arrived from Costa Rica on Saturday.  Doug is now trying to figure out if he'll live in Portland or move back to Tucson where he lived before his divorce.  My niece Cristina Marie, is adorable--I have to admit it.  At one, she's a handful, always on the move.  I hope he will decide to stay in Portland.  I mean Tucson is okay, but it's got nothing on Portland.  Doug is high-maintenance, and he's going to put a lot of demands on me and Kyle in the next few weeks, so I can expect to be out of sorts.


I had dinner on Friday at Maureen and Jim's house along with other former members of the Portland Opera Chorus when our friend, Carol Lucas, was chorus master.  It's a gathering of a regular group of musicians. Everyone brings something to contribute. Jim is a fine cook, and he's often in charge of the protein.  On Friday he grilled a large variety of sausages, including linguicia, chorizo, and a delicious curried bratwurst.  Justin and Marilyn brought a big pot of clams with pancetta in wine sauce. Lynne brought roasted vegetables.  Carol and Sarah bought Greek mezze with delicious pita.  We capped off a fine dinner with my famous lemon meringue pie. It's fun.  We talk about liberal Democratic politics and what scumbag has grabbed the nation's headlines, and the Oregon gubernatorial race, which is rather vital these days, especially with Oregon's finances in the toilet and unemployment in the state second from the bottom of all states.  Jim and Maureen's son works for the Democratic candidate, John Kitzhaber, who like Jerry Brown in California, is the former governor of Oregon.  He's running against a former basketball star, Chris Dudley, who is the Republican.  Kitzhaber has the experience.  Dudley doesn't, but Kitzhaber didn't help the state out of it's tax woes, or woo new industry to the state, in his term. And it's politics as usual in contemporary America. At least it's more polite a contest than other campaigns that are going on around the country right now.  I mean Christine O'Donnell--puhleeze!