Winter

There are some products, where the name really does matter. For me, Ile de France cheese is one of them.

I have been buying their products for years now and have never been disappointed, which is why I enthusiastically accepted their offer to review their Camembert cheese. Ile de France's Camembert is a soft-ripened cheese with a luxuriously creamy texture and mild, nutty flavor. It's ideal for cheese platters when paired with olives, fruit, crackers, and toasts.

Today's recipe for Camembert and Kumquat Chutney Toasts contrasts the pleasantly mild cheese with a tart, tangy fruit and spice chutney. I have served this appetizer for dinner parties twice now to rave reviews. To save time, both the chutney and the toasts can be made ahead of time. Then just before your guests arrive, assemble the toasts with the cheese, and you're good to go. Serve them with some chilled Riesling, and trust me, they won't be disappointed.

From the LA Times

As culinary fashion continues to wind inexorably lower on the luxury scale — from tournedos to beef cheeks, from foie gras to pork belly — it was probably inevitable that we would eventually come to lentils.

Representing the lowest and plainest possible food denominator since biblical times, when Esau traded his birthright for a bowl of soup made from them, lentils have always been regarded as a food you would eat only when you absolutely had to.

Yet look at a restaurant menu today or visit an upscale grocery and you'll find lentils that come in a rainbow of colors and bear an atlas of place names.

You'll find lentils that are reddish pink, canary yellow and pure ivory. Many chefs swear by the dark green lentils from Le Puy in France, but at Mozza, chef Nancy Silverton won't use anything but the tiny tan Castelluccios from Italy's Umbrian hills. You'll even find lentils called beluga, after the ultimate in luxury foods, caviar.

I've cooked with lentils for years, but in a dabbling way. When I could find Castelluccios, I used them, and when Trader Joe's stocked lentils from Le Puy at a great price, I'd buy them. But usually I just cooked whatever the supermarket had on hand.

But with lentils becoming socially acceptable, clearly a more organized analysis was overdue.

Read more...

I came home from the market the other day and I had bags of acorn squash, butternut squash, parsnips and obviously the sweet potatoes and yams you see here.

When Fall hits, I immediately go into squash and root vegetable mode.  It's hard not to.  But there is something about yams and sweet potatoes that float my boat.  I wonder what it is...oh yeah, it's a potato...my kryptonite. 

So I wanted to roast these potatoes, which I could happily eat plain, but the family would want a dipping sauce.  I wanted smoke, I wanted sweet and I wanted tang. So I started playing around and came up with something we loved.  It had such a good flavor.  We had some the next day and it was even better. The flavors had melded together.

This is going to be a staple dish through the Fall.

I love Orange Marmalade—the sweet jam accented by the slightly bitter bits of rind is the perfect topping for buttered toast. My brother Brad used to keep me in a good supply of his tart homemade version, but now that he’s traded his orange grove in for a pear orchard, I’ve found myself wanting, and I set out to make my own.

I have a Morro Blood Orange tree in my garden, and I have made blood orange marmalade before. Of course I can’t remember how. So I looked at all sorts of recipes, and gee whiz, what a pain! Some call for boiling halved oranges, then soaking, then chopping. Some call for removing the peel with a peeler, then cutting away all the pith, then slicing the denuded oranges and then finally cooking—but I was looking at roughly 6 pounds of juicy fruit. I finally found one that seemed good: juice the oranges, thinly slice the peels—that I can handle, but then it called for wrapping all the seeds and membranes in 4 layers of cheesecloth and cooking the bundle along with the juice—forget it.