Deelish Dish

victoria's christmas toffee

Each December, my mother goes on her annual baking extravaganza, an event that is known far and wide, from Mill Valley, California to Southwest Scotland. She bakes everything from Russian tea cakes to popcorn balls, fudge, sugar cookies, magic bars, cinnamon bun wreaths, baklava, and gingerbread men. But her fame in the kitchen comes from one recipe...toffee. 

Taking the classic Wilton recipe, she sprinkled her magic in it, perfecting it over the course of decades. Instead of nuts only on top, she layers them on the bottom as well for a doubly nutty crunch. The recipe notes walnuts but she swears by almonds for the "almond roca effect". And no evidence exists on record but I'm quite sure she is a liberal woman when it comes butter.

She crisps the almonds in a preheated (and then turned off) oven at 300 degrees F for 8 minutes. We're talking a fine art at the first step.

She then pulls a stool up to the stove and stirs her butter and sugar for a good 40 minutes until it hits the magic number of 290 degrees F. With half her almonds on a baking sheet nearby, she carefully covers them with molten hot toffee.

While still hot, she drags a wooden spoon over any bubbles and exposed nuts to make a solid surface.

And while that surface is still warm, she sprinkles the top with squares or chips of chocolate, delicately spreading it with the back of a spoon as it melts. Are you drooling yet?

Depending on the group or individual recipient, she'll use milk or semisweet chocolate. I personally love the darker, more bitter chocolate against the super sweet toffee but I happen to know of a Scotsman who prefers milk. She tailors each batch with love, that woman does. Your wish is her command.

And while the chocolate is still melting, my mother grabs big handfuls of nuts (resisting the urge to pun...) and does her fairy wand sprinkling over the cooling swirls...

creamy, spicy curry pumpkin soup

Alright, so it's not the most Christmas-y post—more of a fall recipe, obviously—but I made this soup from my cousin's recommendation a few days ago and had to share. She had smelled something spicy and divine floating over her cubicle to discover her coworker huddling over a bowl of steaming curry pumpkin soup. One thing led to another and now my entire family is in a major soup phase.

My mother, nana, and younger sister came over a few days ago to decorate while I watched help organize the nursery so I made them a quick lunch of pumpkin soup and sandwiches. My nana: "Pumpkin or squash soup just happens to be my faaaaavorite!"

It's a super simple recipe of onion, garlic, pumpkin, and spices, with evaporated milk and water. All goes into a blender for a nice puree, which I admit was good but that I'm sort of regretting and might try differently next time. The finely chopped onion and garlic would have been nice little nuggets to crunch on (it's possible I'm not as big a fan of baby-food-tasting mush as I thought I was, good thing I'm not expecting a newborn anytime soon). Still, my family loved it!

I also would recommend serving this soup as an appetizer or alongside something substantial. A big bowl or two would give you a stomach ache and I learned my lesson with that the hard way.

popcorn balls, revisited

*Reposting from the archives. A Christmas baking staple!

My family is known for three things: big parties, sidecars, and popcorn balls. Oh yeah, and legal incest (my mom's sister married my dad's brother. I'll give you a minute to think about it and we can address it at a later time but I swear it's totally legit.) but that's neither here nor there. The popcorn ball history is a long and beloved one in our family mainly because it's a fun treat to eat and an event that everyone can be a part of. If you have kids, making popcorn balls is a mouth-watering, eye-popping Willy Wonka daydream that will leave an indelible mark on their childhood memories. It also serves as a hey!-learning-can-be-fun activity that teaches them the step-by-step process of cooking and following directions. But above all, popcorn balls are great because they're cheap, simple and impossible to mess up. We make them every Christmas in festive colors but also for baby showers, school bake sales, science fairs (my little brother gave them out alongside his report of how popcorn pops!), and birthday parties. I can't tell you how many friends and coworkers still ask me about popcorn balls. They're the all-around prize-winners.

When I say they're the easiest thing in the world to make, I mean it. We made three different batches is less than an hour—popping to wrapping and jarring. We aimed for some Christmasy flair for the kids alongside the trays of toffee, Russian tea cakes, and candied nuts. Although who am I kidding, kids eat anything with sugar. They'll get their sticky paws on it all.

We popped three brown paper bags full of plain, unsalted popcorn using a popcorn popper. I can't remember the last time I popped popcorn on the stove but I'm sure it's all the same. Popcorn doesn't do well with moisture so we bagged and sealed what we weren't using and set aside. And as a general note, find and dispose of any unpopped kernels because they can ruin the whole experience if bitten into.

The basic recipe is sugar, corn syrup, cider vinegar, butter, and vanilla. All but the butter and vanilla is combined first, including the food dye, and heated on the stove. Then the butter and vanilla get thrown in just before pouring over the popcorn. 

You can choose any colors to add to the syrup and I'll tell you that kids go for the brightest, craziest colors, like greens and blues. I'd suggest adding dye little by little or you might get a yellow that looks orange, like we did.

We doubled and tripled the recipe to make huge quantities of balls to give as gifts and set out for eating. When working at the stove, the syrup will get really hot so keep children away and use wooden spoons! Many recipes gauge when the syrup is ready by measuring with a candy thermometer (260 degrees F) but my mother uses the water trick. As it boils and thickens, you drop a spoonful of the syrup into a cup of cold water and then pinch it with your fingers. If it stays together, taffy-like then it's ready. Otherwise give it another minute or two and test again.

carolyn's chocolate-almond biscotti

Still in a turkey coma? Me too. I slept through the entire showing of A Christmas Carol yesterday...3D glasses on, head cocked back, mouth open...and had hallucination-sleep all night after a full day of eating leftovers. And still ate more more more today. It's only once a year so I'm taking it for all it's worth.

The minute Halloween was over and cobwebs taken down, blow-up turkeys and harvest decorations were put up in place. Now, Christmas is in full swing and I have  yet to wipe the cranberry sauce off my face. This is not complaining, just a mere observation. I happen to lurrrrvv this transition. 

The launch of Christmas starts the day after Thanksgiving for my family, all out balls-to-wall style. Music in the car and on the iPod dock, movies to fall asleep to in bed, colors in our wardrobe...it's all one big Griswald freakshow that we wait the whole year for. If there really was a Whoville, my family would have the brightest house, the biggest roast beast, and hold the record for undefeated Holiday Cheermeisters.

It's a bit much for my British husband to handle (he's still recovering from the shock of Thanksgiving traditions such as ambrosia and marshmallows on top of yams) though he's a great sport nonetheless. He'll endure Bing Crosby at 7am, multiple trips up the stairs with tubs of Christmas decorations, endless shopping trips at the mall, and moving then re-moving things around the house to see how they look when his 8 1/2-month pregnant wife can't. 

He'll also brave the batches and batches of holiday goodies that come one-after-another out of the oven. And begrudgingly admit that he actually enjoys that weird-tasting anise stuff cooling on the counter. How annoying.

my new go-to tortilla soup

In the few weeks since my cousin gave me this tortilla soup recipe I've made it probably three or four times. That's a monster compliment considering I make soup about five times over the course of a year, always being cabbage. Call me Charlie Bucket, I just love that purple stuff.

Every time I attempt tortilla soup I end up with a result that is too extreme on the spectrum: gourmet and expensive to a point where it tastes like something entirely different, or cheap and quick but boring shmoring. THIS recipe, though, is the one!

It still lives in the cheap and easy category but it's purrrrfect in texture, kick, and combination of goodies. It takes minutes to throw together and provides a week of leftovers (my favorite kind! Time to pull out that thermos!). If you're a Trader Joe's girl like me, you'll live and breathe by this one. 

The process is so easy, it goes like this: sautée onions and chicken together, add chicken broth, add cans of stewed tomates, black beans, and corn, kick with some spice and voila. Top it with your favorites and boo-yah, it's dinnertime.

In my third trimester of pregnancy (whaa? where did the time go?!), I have been absolutely mental for spice, namely jalapenos and pepperoncinis. If it's a meal I can add either (or both) to, I'm in love. And if it isn't, well, I'm pregnant and I'm going to anyway. Heartburn doesn't scare me. (That's a lie, heartburn is a b*tch.)

I made this soup with cornbread (whose pictures, I'm afraid, came out even more pee-yellow than these, if you can believe that, and will have to be redone for a later time) for that pumpkin carving party I told y'all about. I made a double batch that about seven people slurped up while watching The Others and wielding large knives. Only safe, quality fun at my house.

a halloween tradition: roasted pumpkin seeds

What's your favorite part about pumpkin carving? Cozying up and picking one out at the patch? (Me.) Having people over, making tortilla soup and cornbread, and popping in a scary movie? (Me.) Competing to come up with the most original design and seeking total pumpkin carving domination? (Husband.) Cutting it open and gutting out the mushy insides? (Little brother.) Or lighting the candle, turning off the lights and admiring the finished product? (Most sane people.)

Or do you happen to be like my sister and look forward to the roasting of seeds? As in, a Halloween without roasted pumpkin seeds is a Halloween wasted. I was only halfway done zig-zagging the top off my pumpkin when she pushed a colander of sloppy entrails towards me and begged me to get the oven going. "Whaa? But I only just....OKAY!" I can never pass up tradition, nor genuine holiday enthusiasm such as that. My excuse for having the most boring jack-o-lantern this year is that I rushed it to have more time in the kitchen. Serving guests! Gosh. Next year I'll do the Mona Lisa.

There are a million delicious ways to season roasted pumpkin seeds, my favorite being basic butter and salt. You can also try sweet, spicy, and gourmet versions...but that's like taking popcorn and doing crazy stuff with it, and who likes those weird Christmas popcorn tins of funky flavors? Okay, well you're on your own then.

Even my British husband, the man who has experienced Halloween all of five times, liked the salty crunch of these nuts. (Awkward phrasing? Maybe.) And that was after witnessing the process of obtaining them. He's squirmish, I never knew. 

it ain't fall without apple crisp

I've realized that when it comes to baking I have a great instinct, and when it comes to cooking...a terrriiible one. How is that possible, I ask you? I made a horrendous-with-a-capital-H vegetable puree soup last week that ended up being choked down the garbage disposal while the husband dramatically plugged his nose and held back gags. It's soup, gimme a break. Wait til diaper duty. Yeah I'm talkin' to you.

With cooking, I trust recipes to a fault, in addition to an innocent tendency to get spice-happy. With baking, I improvise and veto instructions left and right, taking out some salt here, adding an extra dash of vanilla or cinnamon there, amending cooking temperatures and times as I go.

I threw together this quick apple crisp for my older brother's birthday and found myself hardly looking at the recipe and taking extreme liberties with the cinnamon, lemon, and crumble topping. I'm sorry but half a teaspoon of cinnamon sprinkled over ten chopped apples will not even tickle a tastebud. And Martha, everyone knows an apple crisp is all about that crisp top! Don't hold out on us. This is not prison.

I even did the apple mixture directly in the pan with the juice of a whole lemon to pucker it up. I'm a rebel, I know.

The results were satisfying and oh so deliciously fall. Hot apples, crispy oats, and fragrant cinnamon make my heart and stomach swoon...and I'm a chocolate dessert lover! Granny Smith apples (with a few fuji, too) create the perfect sour tone underneath that layer of crispy sweet. My dad—the king of apple desserts—had seconds and could possibly be heard murmuring sweet nothings into his bowl. Gold star for me.

squishy-delishy pumpkin chocolate chip cookies

My freshman year in college, I had the worst roommate in the history of roommates. I've never loathed or desperately wanted to get in an all-out physical brawl with someone more than this chick. And I'm a totally nice, peaceful person. I swear. We passive-aggressively tortured each other for a solid year—the hate in that dorm room was so palpable that my friends wouldn't even visit. I'm clenching my fists and squinting my eyes just thinking about it...[deep breath] oh dearie, where was I?

The one thing I remember about that psycho, that I always thought was so weird and typical! of her, was that she loved pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. At the time I thought, Who the hell likes pumpkin cookies? The antichrist, that's who. Her mom would send care packages with piles of them tucked perfectly in brand-new tupperware with a handwritten note. Then she'd slowly nibble on them, plucking at her laptop keyboard while I death-stared her from across the room.

But I have to hand it to that nutjob, she actually had one legit cool factor going for her that I never realized until now. Pumpkin chocolate chip cookies are the best thing that have happened to me since fried bananas and anyone with a proper tastebud in their mouth agrees. I'm still working on pumpkin pie (I know, friends, I know) but so far pumpkin spice bread, muffins, lattes, and cookies all fit nicely into my category of addiction.

Not all of us will get there, not all of us will give that bright orange substance a chance. My husband (if I had known pre-wedding...!) gagged when I gave him a force-feeding yesterday. He's slowly converting to an all-things-cozy lover so in good time, I'm sure. He's just playing hard to get.

I should warn you that these cookies are in a league of their own. More bread-like and cakey, uber moist and easily adaptable. You can change up the chips to your preference, add nuts like I did, all the good stuff.

Hot off the baking sheet, they are glorious. With iced milk or vanilla ice cream, you can't go wrong. Alongside tea or coffee, they are the supreme afternoon treat on a blustery autumn day. I've got these ready at hand for the rain that starts this week...

an updated classic

As I was saying and hoping for last week while sick at home, I'm ready for fall. Maybe it's the extra preggo weight and heat but I am over ("Ross, I...am over...youuu.") summer. It was glorious while it lasted—I went to Europe (got married, hello?), the Russian River, Lake Tahoe, Stinson Beach, climbed Mt. Tam, etc. but now that it's officially September, let me have it! 

So since I thought the day at home was going to be a cozy, foggy day with hot tea, soup and Oprah, I figured some chocolatey-spice banana bread would do just fine too. And guys, I had been SO excited to try this banana bread recipe that I was waiting for just the right time, you don't even know. Well, screw the heat and whatever that eventually ruined it all ("You blew it!"), this bread was out of this world. Amazing. Incredible. Genius.

I thought the ginger might be too strong of a punch but finely chopped, it's perfect. Slips right in and balances the sweet chocolate and banana flavors. And oh my god, it's fall in a mouthfull. The smell and taste go into the same hot cider-snorting category for sure. I want to make it again just to perfume up the house with the change of seasons.

you're turning violet, Violet!

Does it feel like summer to you? How's the tan? Hair a little lighter? Mood a little brighter? Stuffed full of s'mores and hot dogs and bbq? Oh, the envy. Actually, it feels like summer to me too—more than last year which was gone in a snap and left me pasty white and pissy all year—but I'm trying to streeeetch it just a little longer. Of course, I love fall more than anything but this is my last summer as a single woman (pre-marriage and baby—whoa, there you go reminding me again) and I refuse to let it go by without sucking the last few drops from it.

Exhibit A, going to the pool and back-stroking it up for hours with my happy whale spout of water and goofy grin, leaving me with the most awesome leg burn ever. I swear I saw Mary's face in the pattern. Exhibit B, eating so many nectarines and tomatoes that my skin is starting to turn a funny color (or is that still the lobster burn...) and I'm becoming that girl at work. You know, the one who eats the same thing every day and it's just weird. Lay off me I'm starving!