Wreath cookies: of course!

Many food bloggers do a great job making recipe upon recipe based on the calendar of food blog events. I on the other hand, only serendipitously contribute to these parties, events and recipe roundups floating around on the web. I was happy to find this one—or rather, have it find me: Food Blogga is hosting Christmas Cookies 2007. Now there is a table where I will can easily rest my elbows and feast my eyes.

I have been looking for new cookie ideas. I have old favorites, but it is always good to find new favorites. Huh. I think that is the perfect summary of my kitchen mantra: embracing old favorites and looking for new. Whether it is my list of standby entree recipes (which I fondly call default dinners) or my deliberate search for a new favorite curry or vegetable (this year’s winner: fennel), I am all equally about where I came from and where I am going (that sounds adequately cliche for wrapping up 2007 and entering 2008).

Lest I begin reminiscing, let us press on and make wreath cookies. I think it has been 7-8 years since I made these (therefore, they fall into the old, reminiscent favorite category). They are Christmas meets Rice Krispy treats but with corn flakes and green food coloring, and red hots to stand in as holly berries. More than anything, it will add color to the cookie plate and pay tribute to this decoration-filled, tinsel brimming, eggnog making holiday. (Pssst: I snuck some of my eggnog early. In fact… just now. And it is SO good. You need to try it!).

Wreath Cookies*
1/3 cup butter
1 package marshmallows (10 oz; 40 marshmallows)
1 tsp green food coloring
6 cups corn flakes
red hot candies

In saucepan, melt butter over low heat. Add marshmallows and stir to melt. Remove from heat, stir in food coloring. Stir in corn flakes to coat. Butter fingers, scoop 1/4 cup worth of the green flakes and shape into wreath. Dot with red hots/cinnamon candies. Approximately 16 small wreaths. Or, I suppose, one enormous wreath.

True confessions: the wreath above looks either like genuine holly color or spinach, depending on your mood. The marshmallows I happened to have on hand were green and red stars (ever the sucker for celebrating holidays, I bought these to top hot chocolate), which added a dull gray to my holly green food coloring. Thus, the olive colored wreaths. When YOU make them, they will be a gorgeous, bright Christmas green. Almost makes your kids want to eat spinach, but not quite… Oh, and I affixed the red hots with melted chocolate; frosting works too, maybe even honey for that matter.

*Betty Crocker recipe

You have seen them out there: individually cellophane wrapped chocolate covered nut-sprinkled spoons. But for the price of $10 each, I figured it worth my time to make my own. Besides, it isn’t that difficult to melt chocolate and cover a spoon. And if you do—and present it as a hostess or teacher gift—you will certainly gain accolades. Oh, it was nothing, you will say. They will be impressed and not believe you, they will feel rightly special, and you shall feel appropriately smug.

It was nothing in terms of time and effort; but it was something in the gesture and delivery: a spoonful of special.

Buy plastic spoons. Or if you choose: use antique spoons, buy individual silver spoons from a kitchen store, go trendy vintage or for top-shelf special, use heirloom spoons from grandma’s collection. But get spoons. If plastic, pick gray or black, red or green for the season. Make peppermint bark, or melt chocolate and drizzle on contrasting chocolate, then drop on chards of peppermint or candied nuts.The truth is: this gift is ALL about the packaging. Wrap in a special box, on a simple melamine plate, in cellophane, with a bow. By all means, add a bow to the top of the spoon. The goal here is: you are special. It brings the silver spoon treaty to a whole new level: this one is sugar-coated. You want a coffee? How about a chocolate toffee covered, bow-topped, melt-into-your-drink-and-your-mouth spoon to go with that?

Have you ever had a chocolate covered spoon? If not, then by all means make one for yourself: the chocolate is melted, the spoon is dipped, the chocolate hardens on the spoon. Sprinkle on some crushed candy cane, or toffee. Stir into your next cup of coffee or hot chocolate. (Chop up chocolate into 1/2 inch cubes, melt in microwave in 30 second increments; stir vigorously between each 30 second interval; don’t burn the chocolate).

I made peppermint bark again this year. We all adore it; it is so simple to make, it hurts. My twist this year was to dip spoons into the just-melted bark to make ‘peppermint bark spoons.’ Then I drizzled some melted dark chocolate over, tied on a bow and attached gift cards. I also melted dark chocolate, dipped in some spoons and—while still wet—sprinkled some candied pecans onto the spoon.

Today at lunch, I handed individually wrapped spoons to two friends. They are special friends, and sometimes that message is nice to deliver by the sugary spoonful.

Happy stirring!

Man, it is almost Christmas and I am still trying to perfect a Thanksgiving dish! My poor family has eaten the infamous Green Bean Casserole at least a half a dozen times, if not more, in the last few weeks. I wanted to get it right. And Thanksgiving didn’t wait for me: it came, it went—and I kept cooking green beans.

I was intent on finding a new version of this old favorite. And despite the fact that I am wedged between holidays, with a million things to do, these green beans were worth the fuss.

Thanksgiving is lovely for all its familiarity: the same side dishes, the familiar faces, even the same conversations (updated for this year, of course). I love Thanksgiving and all of its sameness. But this Thanksgiving wasn’t about sameness for our little family.

This year we were suctioned out of what is the same and abruptly—and curiously—inserted into novel Thanksgiving territory. Instead of the extended family and the recipes that have been passed down our own family line, we enjoyed Thanksgiving with families from New Orleans, from Portland, OR from Seattle, WA, California and Hawaii. My humble, little family was inserted into a much larger and just-being-established family by way of my dear friend’s Thanksgiving & Wedding Extravaganza. Because THAT is what it WAS. No one will deny it.

It was as novel and Thanksgiving as a balance could strike. My friend loves Thanksgiving; it has long been her favorite holiday. And marrying her soul mate is nothing if not reason to be thankful. So there we were—the whole lot of us—on the coast of Oregon in a little town on the 4 mile wide mouth of the Columbia River. Where inland meets ocean, where frigid air meets unnaturally bright sun. We cooked and toasted and drank and danced; we had Thanksgiving, then a wedding. It felt like Mardi Gras. And yet, with so much extended family from New Orleans, what better way to celebrate? Why limit festivities and yards of food to just one day? Night poured into day, breakfast just shy of dinner, libations and laughter and touring and tasting continued around the clock.

It was the same: there was lots of food, lots of family, lots of conversation. Yet is was different: unfamiliar food, different families, new conversations. And on the ride home, my son remarked that although it was really fun, it just wasn’t the same. And the side dishes that he has grown to love were not present. And so, when we came home I made him his sweet potatoes, and no less than six times: the Green Bean Casserole.

I wanted to keep the sacred casserole the same comfortable dish it has always been; yet, something inside me likes to change things, if just a little. Update them, evolve them a bit, or more likely poke at their credibility as a beloved standard. I have loved the Green Bean Casserole my whole life. I have made it when invited to Thanksgiving dinners; and when serving the dinner myself I make sure it is assigned and placed appropriately at our table. No doubt layers of grandmothers—since the time of Campbells Mushroom Soup—made this dish. And yet, I wonder.

Instead of the Campbells, I made—from scratch—the ‘creamed mushroom soup’ that goes into the casserole. And in the end, I kept the same French beans and the same topping we are used to; and the casserole retained its sameness. (My inspiration for this revision came from Alanna, author of A Veggie Venture. Though mine looks different from hers, this is surely a tribute):

Green Bean Casserole
8 ounces sliced mushrooms
2 T butter
4 garlic cloves, minced
kosher salt, coarse pepper
1/4 cup flour
optional: 1 T finely minced rosemary
1 1/2 cups chicken broth
1/4 cup sherry
3/4 cup half and half
3 cans french sliced green beans
fried onions, canned

Butter in skillet over medium. Add garlic and mushrooms, salt and pepper, and sautee until mushrooms release liquid, about 6-8 minutes. Add flour (and rosemary if using) and stir for 1-2 minutes; add broth and simmer 5-6 minutes. Add half and half and simmer 10-15 minutes. Open cans of beans, drain. Off heat and stir in beans. Put in 8×8 pan, and cover with 1 1/2 cups (or so) fried onions. Cook at 400 for 20 minutes, serve.

Here, a view from our Astoria, OR:

Things to do today: buy Christmas gifts for kids’ coaches & teachers, buy packaging tape and boxes, call eye doctor, clean out email in box, make eggnog. Top priority: make eggnog.

When I read Brandon Eats‘ message to make your eggnog now or it is too late, I knew I had to put it on top of my ‘to-do list.’ It takes a minimum of three weeks for the eggnog flavors to marry and marinate in your fridge… or up to a year. So in theory, I could have started my Christmas Nog in July.

If my mom is reading this, she is smiling, because I DO have a tendency to begin planning for Christmas in July. But not this year. This year I really did leave the Christmas planning/buying/frenzy for December (other frenzies were a priority in their respective months; July was consumed with selling our house).

But back to December: I have always wanted to make eggnog from scratch. So when I was alerted to this recipe (from CHOW), I knew I needed to grab my just-emptied glass jug (the apple cider was delish), and start cracking… eggs that is.

And then wait.

I think I am a sucker for drinks that take time to mellow and perfect; my limoncella recipe takes 80 days. And it is divine. Last year I actually DID start making that in July, and even had a bottle or two left in December for Christmas gifts (a hazard of beginning Christmas limoncella in July is that come September when it is ripe and ready one feels the need to taste it, share it, re-taste it and otherwise fail to save it until Christmas). You can only wait so long. And that was too long.

But if you make this eggnog now, it will be perfect for New Year’s Eve. OR if you are not a waiter, crack it open a bit early, perhaps on the eve of Christmas (just save some for later, to taste when it is in its prime). If you do, know that I am too. A few big cubes of ice, a short glass and cheers: to Christmas and to You!

EGGNOG worth waiting for
12 large eggs
2 cups sugar
1 cup heavy cream
1 quart whole milk (4 cups)
1 liter (about 4 cups) bourbon
1/2 cup Meyer’s dark rum
1/2 - 1 cup good Cognac or brandy
pinch kosher salt

To serve (optional—depends on your ability to wait even longer):
one whole nutmeg
10 egg whites
1 1/2 cups heavy cream

Separate yolks and whites; discard whites or use for something else. Mix yolks and sugar until creamy; add remaining ingredients. Bottle right away and refrigerate. Stir or shake occasionally. Serve on rocks with freshly ground nutmeg. Optional: whip 10 egg whites and 1 1/2 cups cream to soft peaks and fold into eggnog. Serve garnished with fresh nutmeg.

It’s easy. I promise.

I borrowed this recipe from Jess over at hogwash. As has been established, I am always on the lookout for any entree—or side dish, appetizer, dessert, etc.—that can be claimed for my default dinner list. I look for easy, delicious recipes. The more ingredients I likely have on hand, the better. The quicker to assemble, the more appealing. The bigger the praise from the taste buds at the table, the more likely it will make a regular appearance.And this lamb did just that:

Pecan & Sage Crusted Lamb
1/2 cup panko
1/2 cup finely chopped pecans
2 T finely chopped fresh sage
2 1/2 T olive oil (plus more for lamb)
1/2 tsp coarse salt
fresh ground pepper
1 - 1 1/2 pound rack of lamb

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Mix all in bowl, except lamb. Rub lamb all over with 1/2 T olive oil, some more salt and pepper. Place fat side up on baking sheet or roasting pan; press crumb mix onto top of lamb. Roast for 35-40 minutes; remove from oven and let rest 5-10 minutes, then slice into chops and serve with the yummy crumbs left in the pan.