Comfort Foods and Indulgences

We all have our own rituals for fall Sunday afternoons. Some guys sit around and watch football; for me it takes only about a quarter before I need a nap. Others feel inspired to take up household projects; the less said about my ability with a hammer the better.

Instead, I cook. Well, I cook all year round, but when the days start to cool and the light turns golden, I get more ambitious. Rather than 30 minutes at the grill, I throw myself into hours-long kitchen projects. This year, it's been lasagna.

It started in late September. I had just gotten back from the farmers market when I heard that Marcella Hazan had died. I looked over everything that I had bought and in her honor immediately started making dough for fresh pasta. And peeling and seeding tomatoes and turning them into sauce. And making a Parmesan-enriched white sauce. And blanching, chopping and sauteing beet greens. And then putting it all together. All of a sudden it was dinner time.

There's nothing like lasagna from scratch to while away a lazy Sunday afternoon.

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When my friend, Ann, discovered I was making raspberry brownies, she quickly sent me a recipe for one of her favorite raspberry-spiked brownies. They have a layer of creamy raspberry-flavored butter frosting sandwiched between moist chocolate brownies and a rich, fudge-like topping.

These brownies have an interesting history.

According to Ann, this recipe originally came from R. Marie Jones, a sister to John Carlson, both originally from Fargo.  John is no longer living, but the ice coliseum in north Fargo is named after him.  Marie, who was very instrumental in Trollwood and the presence of Altrusa’s concession stand there, passed away in July of 2006.

Apparently, many years ago the sweet and lovely Marie brought the Chambord brownies as a treat to a needlepoint class Ann was teaching. Since that sinfully delicious introduction, Chambord brownies have become a favorite of Ann and her husband, Pat.

Ann describes these brownies as “a melt-in-your-mouth indulgence.” She’s absolutely right!

Clafoutis. You've eaten one. You've probably baked one. You've definitely heard of one. But can you define one? What is a clafoutis?

It's not quite a cake or a custard or a flan or a pudding. It has been called lots of names, including "a baked fruit dessert," "a baked custard with fruit," "a crustless pie," "a fruit-fill flan," and my personal favorite, "a sweet frittata." Purists called it a flognarde, but that lacks the panache of clafoutis (pronounced cla- foo-tee).

Clotilde Dusouslier, the charming Parisian food blogger, calls clafoutis "the epitome of the French grandmotherly dessert: unpretentious, easy to make, and blissfully comforting."

Call it what you will, especially if you're high school French is a little rusty. Just be sure to make one.

Silly words that came from car-time with my grandchildren resulted in a new cookie called Shoogie Dadders. The cookie dough is loaded with oatmeal, sweet-tart grated Haralson apple woven through and little chunks of Sugar Babies that turn to taffy in the oven. The baked cookies are sweet and chewy. They got a thumbs-up from my granddaughter who rolled the funny words “shoogie dadder” off her tongue and out of her giggling mouth.

After turning some of the third batch of dough into cookies, I got tired of baking. I covered the bowl of remaining dough and stuck it into the refrigerator. A few days later, as I was thinking of Thanksgiving, I thought about baking pumpkin-pie filling in a Shoogie Dadder crust.

I patted some of the cookie dough into a 9- x 13-inch pan, covered it with broken, toasted pecans and baked it for about 10 minutes before pouring the pumpkin filling over the top. Once baked, the filling was creamy and the crust was soft and easy to cut.