163. Lemon Pound Cake (p. 703)

According to Merriam-Webster Online, "nonstick" means:

1: allowing easy removal of cooked food particles (a nonstick coating in a frying pan) 2: having a nonstick surface (a nonstick frying pan).

My nonstick bundt pan, however, gives the word a whole new meaning. If you've been following The Project, you know that I've had trouble with my nonstick bundt pan before. This time was no different. But even so, this recipe* makes one fine cake.

Just about every recipe I've seen for pound cake is accompnied by a quaint story about how, back in the days of yore, pound cake was made with a pound of flour, a pound of butter, a pound of eggs and a pound of sugar. But, then the recipe will proceed to give you a list of ingredients that doesn't resemble the traditional recipe at all. What gives? Besides the fact that you're left with a four pound cake, it must be a pretty rotten cake if all of the modern recipe writers have seen fit to tweak it.

The Book is no different in this respect. Instead of a pound, a pound, a pound, a pound, this recipe calls for a couple of cups of cake flour and sugar, a half pound of butter, a half-dozen eggs. There's also a little bit of salt, baking powder and milk. And because this is a lemon pound cake, there's a healthy dose of lemon zest and juice.

The Book says to spoon the batter into a kugelhopf pan. Well, I don't have a kugelhopf pan. So, I used my nonstick bundt pan. They're both German. Close enough, right? Maybe, but my nonstick bundt pan is out to get me. I even treated it like a non-nonstick pan this time. I buttered and floured the pan before putting the batter in. It still stuck. Oh well. But once I put the glaze on, it wasn't as ugly. The glaze is really easy, it's just some confectioner's sugar and a little bit of lemon juice whisked together.

Despite it's cosmetic problems, this was a really good cake. It was dense and moist. Substantial and sweet with a real zing of lemon flavor. Paired with some sliced strawberries, this is a bright and sunny summer dessert.

Date Cooked: June 6, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A-

* This recipe isn't on epicurous.com.

162. Moroccan-Style Roast Cornish Hens with Vegetables (p. 392)

I don't know about you, but I usually associate Cornish hens with fussy, fancy, dainty dinners. Well, this Moroccan-inspired recipe ain't that. This is a bold, fragrant, hearty and flavorful meal that you'll love. I know that I did.

First, I made the marinade. I ground some caraway seeds in my electric spice grinder (The Book says you can crush them with a rolling pin or a heavy knife, too.) Then I mashed the caraway seeds into a paste with some minced garlic. I whisked the garlic-caraway paste together with some honey, lemon juice, olive oil, lots of paprika and even more cumin, some ginger, cinnamon, cayenne and black pepper.

I divided the marinade and tossed half of it with some zucchini, turnips, red pepper, butternut squash and onions, all cut up into chunks. I spread the veggies out into a roasting pan and set it aside for a while.

Then I rinsed and patted dry three 1 1/2 pound Cornish hens. (The Book calls for four hens to serve eight. I decided to make six servings for dinner two nights in a row and some leftovers for lunch.) Using some kitchen shears, and with much crunching of bones, I cut the backbones out of the hens and then cut the hens in half. After plunging live lobsters into boiling water, cutting small birds in half with scissors was nothing. (The Project is not for the faint of heart.) I coated the hen halves with the rest of the marinade and arranged them on top of the vegetables.

The Book says to cover the pan tightly with foil and roast for an hour. It was a really nice day out, so as soon as the birds went into the oven, my wife and I took my son out for a walk around the neighborhood. When we came back about a half hour later, I was pleased to see that the house hadn't burned down, but I was a little bit confused by the large can of tomatoes and the carton of chicken broth on the counter. Now, what did I buy those for? D'oh, I was supposed to stir them in with the vegetables before the hens went on top. So, the roasting pan came out of the oven, the hens went onto a baking sheet, and the tomatoes and broth were mixed into the vegetables. Better a half-hour late than never. Hens back into the roasting pan, roasting pan back in the oven. After an hour of covered roasting, I took the foil off and put the pan back into the oven for about another half hour.

This is a great dish. It looks great, it smells great and, even in spite of my mistake, it tastes amazing. First, the aroma. There is a lot of spice in this dish. The caraway, cumin, cinnamon and ginger fills the house with such a warm, inviting scent that you just know you're about to eat something delicious. And then there's the look of this dish. It's just gorgeous. The hens' skin is crispy and brown and the vegetables are a great blend of vibrant reds, oranges and greens. Finally, there's the taste. Amazing. The hens were moist and tasty, and the vegetables were tender and flavorful. The sauce could have been a bit thicker, but that was probably my fault because of the delayed addition of the tomatoes and broth.

The Book says to serve this over couscous. That would have been excellent, but rice (gluten free) worked just as well as "a vehicle for the flavorful broth." This would be a perfect dish for company. It'll make your guests rave, but it's pretty easy to make and most of the work can be done ahead of time. (The leftovers were tasty, too.) This is one of my favorites so far.

Date Cooked: June 6, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A

161. Yellow Split Pea Soup (p. 111)

When I sat down to Easter dinner a few months ago, I was more than a little distracted. Sure there was a lot of great food and lively conversation in the dining room. But, my mind was back in the kitchen, where a great big, meaty ham bone rested on a cutting board, just begging to be turned into pea soup. I knew that I'd have to arm-wrestle my sister-in-law over the ham bone. Somehow, I persuaded her to let me take it in exchange for some pea soup.

With the zip-locked ham bone in hand, I left my sister-in-law's house on Easter Sunday a happy man. I put the ham bone in the fridge, and made this recipe the following weekend. Now, even though it's been a couple of months since I made this soup, I'm just writing about it now because I hadn't actually eaten any of it until about a week ago.

First, I rinsed some yellow split peas. Next, I combined the rinsed peas, some water, chopped onion, and the ham bone in a big pot and brought it to a boil. I skimmed off the yucky stuff, and reduced the heat and simmered it for about an hour.

Meanwhile, I sauteed some more chopped onion and some chopped leek in some butter. I added these sauteed vegetables to the soup with some fresh chopped chives, some dried savory, and salt and pepper. After another hour of cooking, I removed the ham bone, picked off whatever meat hadn't fallen off and added it to the soup.

Once the soup cooled, I divided it into four large containers. I gave one to each of my two sisters-in-law, and I put the other two in the freezer. Other than a spoonful to taste, I didn't eat any of the soup until I pulled one of the containers out of the freezer for lunch last week.

This soup was excellent. Thick, hearty, silky, salty and meaty. I'm sure that I'm going to fight for the ham bone next Easter, too, so that I can make this soup again.

Date Cooked: April 19, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A

160. Honeydew (and Canteloupe) in Rosemary Syrup (p. 806)

When I think about rosemary, I usually think of chicken. And Simon and Garfunkle. But mostly chicken. Before I made this recipe, I would never have thought of pairing melon with rosemary and peppercorns.

This is probably one of the simplest of The Book's fruit dessert recipes. First, I made the rosemary syrup. I mixed some white wine, water, sugar, orange zest, fresh rosemary leaves and black peppercorns in a small saucepan. I brought it to a boil and cooked it for a few minutes. I strained it into a bowl (discarding the solids) and put it in the refrigerator to chill.

Meanwhile, using a melon baller, I cut melon balls from a honeydew and a cantaloupe. It's hard to make perfect-looking melon balls without wasting a lot of melon. So, a lot of the melon balls were somewhat misshapen. Oh, well.

When the syrup was chilled, I stirred some freshly-squeezed orange juice into it and combined the syrup with the melon.

I served the melon balls in small bowls garnished with little sprigs of rosemary. This dessert was a real surprise. I didn't quite know what to expect from mixing sweet melon with seasonings usually associated with savory foods (rosemary and black pepper). The fragrance of the rosemary was wonderful. The flavor was subtle and pleasant. The hint of rosemary and the barely noticeable bite of pepper nicely highlighted the melon. The syrup was light and not too sweet.

A nice, simple dessert for a sophisticated but healthy meal.

Date Cooked: May 30, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: A-

159. Grilled Lobster with Orange Chipotle Vinaigrette (p. 338)

I was flipping through the grocery store sale flyers a couple of weeks ago, when I saw that Market Basket was having a sale on lobstah! (I'm from Boston, in case you didn't know.)

I don't usually do my shopping at Market Basket, but I made an exception for cheap lobster. Whenever I go into Market Basket, I feel like I've entered a time warp. Sure, they sell Dora the Explorer Fruit Snax, and all of the other "current" food items, just like the Stop and Shop down the street. But, there's somthing different about Market Basket. Maybe it's because the bag boys still wear aprons over a white shirt and tie. Maybe it's because they still use sawdust to sop up spills on the floor. Maybe it's because their stores are still decked out in '60s decor. Or maybe it's just because it's where my mom did the grocery shopping when I was a kid. Anyway, bag in hand (with two 1 1/2 pound lobsters wriggling away inside), I stepped back into the twenty-first century to make to make this recipe.
I've eaten lobster hundreds of times. (I even ordered it in a restaurant when I was five years old!) But, I've never eaten it grilled, and I've never actually cooked it myself before. So, this was a new experience for me.

First, I par-cooked the lobsters. Now, I know that this is a touchy subject for some people. In fact, I recently read The Face on Your Plate, so I fully understand the need for the humane treatment of animals. But, I'm not ready to swear off meat, and I see little difference between quickly and efficiently dispatching a lobster in boiling water yourself and buying a steak made from a cow that met its maker at someone else's hands. So, I plunged the lobsters one at a time into the pot, and in a few minutes, they turned bright red. I only partially cooked them in the boiling water. They would finish on the grill.

Next, I made the Orange Chipotle Vinaigrette. I blended together some orange zest and juice, vinegar, chopped canned chipotle peppers in adobo, with some salt and sugar. With the motor running, I slowly poured some olive oil into the blender's top opening. Once it was nice and creamy and emulsified, I whisked in some chopped basil and divided the vinaigrette into two bowls (one for basting the lobster as it grilled, the other for drizzling on the final product).

While the grill preheated, I broke the claws and tails off the lobsters. Using kitchen shears, I cut the tails (still in their shells) in half lengthwise, and removed any nasty bits. First I put the claws on the grill, cooking them for a few minutes until liquid bubbled out of the ends. Meanwhile, I brushed some of the vinaigrette onto the tail meat and put the tails on the grill, shell side up. After a few minutes, I flipped them over, admired the nice grillmarks, and brushed some more vinaigrette onto the meat.

When the lobster was done, I served it with a green salad and more of the vinaigrette (to dress the meat and the salad). The lobster claws were awful! I don't know if it was the grilling, or if it was the lobsters themselves. The meat was dry, spongy, and pretty much inedible. The shells were incredibly hard, too, so I wonder if these were just tired lobsters who were due for a molting. The lobster tails, on the other hand, were excellent. The meat was tender, sweet and delicious. The grilling and the vinaigrette (with it's nice blend of the smoky heat of the chipotles, the citrus zing of the orange, and the slight licorice flavor of the basil) gave the lobster an excellent lift over the usual ... steamed with drawn butter.

The vinaigrette, however, was too heavy and overwhelming for the salad. (I can't blame this on Gourmet, since it was my idea to pair the lobster with a salad and to re-purpose the vinaigrette.)

The lobster tails were amazing, but that's really about all I liked about this dish. And even on sale, it was a lot of money to spend for a grilled lobster tail.

Date Cooked: May 30, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: B+

It's my blogaversary!

There are a lot of ways to measure a year. 12 months. 52 weeks. 365 days. About 8,700 hours. As for me, this past year was, among other things, 158 recipes.

A year ago, I set out to cook all 1,300-plus recipes in The Gourmet Cookbook. My wife thought I was crazy. I was optimistic, but unsure whether gourmetalltheway would end up as a one post wonder or one of the millions of orphaned blogs out there on the web (according to this New York Times story, approximately 95% of blogs haven't been updated in the past 120 days).

When I set out on this project, I had some expectations. I knew that I'd learn a lot about cooking, and that I'd eat a lot of good food. But, there were a lot of things that I didn't expect.

First was the food. Since I've determined to cook everything in The Book, I started out with some recipes that I would never have made otherwise. Strange sounding things like strawberry salsa, pickled carrot sticks, and watermelon rind chutney all turned out to be pretty good. Next was The Book's flexibility. When my son was born in December (the other, and by far most amazing, thing that happened to me over the past year), I thought that parenthood would mean the end of The Project. How would I ever have time to cook fancy food and help take care of a newborn? Well, The Book has so many great cook-ahead recipes that that I was able to spend a couple of hours in the kitchen on the weekend and we could eat like royalty all week (we still have some mushroom barley soup in the freezer). And then, when my son developed a food sensitivity that caused my wife (who is nursing) to swear off wheat, soy and dairy, I was again surprised by the number of recipes in The Book that work with my wife's dietary restrictions. But that biggest surprise of the project has been how it's helped me build and strengthen friendships. Through the project, I've become part of a community of food bloggers. I've met and befriended Melissa. And, my wife and I have gotten better about having friends and relatives over for dinner or a visit. Of course, having a new son to show off helps, too. But there's just something about sharing good food that brings people together.

At the rate that I'm going, about three recipes per week, it'll take me another eight years to finish The Project. And, you know what? That's OK. This Project is all about the journey. The destination is incidental.

Now, let's get cookin'.

157. Basic Polenta (p. 264) and 158. Broiled Polenta with Tomato Sauce (p. 266)

According to The Book, Mediterranean cooking authority Paula Wolfert developed a "no stirring" method for making polenta. When I read this recipe* for basic polenta, with its instructions to stir the polenta for one minute every 10 minutes of the 45 minute cooking time, I assumed that The Book hadn't adopted Ms. Wolfert's method. But, considering that the traditional method would have you stir the polenta constantly for the entire cooking time, this method is, relatively speaking, "no stirring."

The polenta was really very easy to make. It just takes a bit of time. All I did was boil some water and salt and then whisked in some cornmeal. I reduced the heat, covered it and, as I said, stirred it for one minute every 10 minutes until it was very thick and creamy.

After I finished cooking the basic polenta, I moved on to this recipe for broiled polenta with tomato sauce.

First I divided the polenta in two. I stirred some grated fontina cheese into half of it (the other half was for my wife, who can't eat dairy for the time being). I put the polenta into two small rectangle plastic containers that I had brushed with some olive oil, and put it in the refrigerator to set. The Book says to use a bowl, but it seemed to me that the finished dish would work out better with rectangle slices than with dome-shaped wedges.

Next I made the sauce. First, I heated some olive oil and cooked come chopped onions and garlic. Then I added some canned Muir Glen organic whole tomatoes and cooked it until it they had broken down into a thick sauce.

By then, the polenta had set. I turned it out of the containers, and cut it into 3/4 inch slices. I put the polenta under the broiler and waited for it to get golden around the edges. I waited, and waited, and waited. The Book says that it should take about three minutes per side. But after more than ten minutes, it still hadn't browned. I don't know that the problem was, but it was late, I was hungry, and I couldn't wait any more, so I took the polenta out of the oven. Before I made this, I thought about grilling the polenta instead of broiling it. I wish I had.

Even though the polenta wasn't crispy, this was still a tasty simple supper. We ate it with some spicy Italian turkey sausage. The polenta was tender and flavorful. The fontina gave it a nice creamines and saltiness without being "cheesy." And even though my wife's polenta had no cheese at all, she still liked it very much. The sauce was pure and simple. If I were to make this in late summer, I'd use fresh local tomatoes for the sauce, but canned were good.

Date Cooked: May 25, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A-

*The recipe for basic polenta is not on epicurious.com. The recipe for the broiled polenta with tomato sauce includes its own recipe for basic polenta, but it's not the same as the one in The Book, and it does call for constant stirring.