129. Flourless Peanut Butter Cookies (p. 674)

A couple of weeks ago, I made some peanut butter cookies ... and I didn't like them very much. They were dry and hard. I couldn't put my finger on what was wrong with them. My best guess was they there was too much flour in the recipe. Well, if you just flip ahead a few pages in The Book, you'll find this recipe* for Flourless Peanut Butter Cookies. Time to test the theory. As you'll see, I was wrong. It wasn't the flour.

This recipe is very easy to make. Only four ingredients, and you've probably already got them in your kitchen: Peanut butter, sugar, an egg and some baking soda. Beat together the peanut butter and the sugar, and then beat in the egg and baking soda.

The Book says to roll level teaspoons of the dough into balls and put them onto a cookie sheet. This was a little difficult because the dough was pretty dry and crumbly. Then, I flattened the dough balls with a fork (making that distinctive peanut butter cookie cross-hatch pattern) and baked them for a little while.

How were they? They were better than the other peanunt butter cookies ... but not much better. They were dry and crumbly (just like the dough), but at least they weren't hard. They were crisp instead. What I'm looking for, though, is a moist and chewey peanut butter cookie. Is that too much to ask for?

Two very similar peanut butter cookie recipes in The Book, and both were disappointments.

Date Cooked: March 22, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: C+

* This recipe from epicurious is not the recipe from The Book. It's actually from Bon Appetit, but it's similar enough. The Book's recipe uses granulated sugar instead of brown, and it omits the chocolate chips and vanilla extract.

128. Crunchy Vegetable and Brown Rice Salad (p. 150)

I've never thought that there was anything strange about pasta salad. So why would I even think for a second that there's anything odd about rice salad. Rice salad? You've never heard of it either? Well, now that I've made this recipe, my eyes have been opened to a whole new world of salad possibilities.

The first thing I did to make this salad was to make the rice. The Book calls for short grain brown rice. I've never used this kind of rice before. These short, chubby grains of brown rice are about the size and shape of the Arborio rice that you'd use for risotto, but they're a lot less starchy. You cook it more like pasta than rice, boiling it in lots of salted water and draining it in a colander and rinsing it with cold water when it's done cooking.

While the rice was cooking, I chopped up some carrots, celery, and bell peppers into quarter-inch dice. This recipe is definitely good practice for your knife skills. The Book calls for red bell peppers, but I used red, yellow and orange to give the salad more color. I blanched these vegetables in boiling water for one minute, drained them in a colander and then plunged the colander into a large bowl of ice water to stop the cooking.

Next, I made the dressing. I whisked together some lemon juice, chicken broth, country-style whole grain mustard, olive oil, and some salt and pepper. I tossed the dressing with some baby arugula, the blanched vegetables, some chopped scallions, and the cool rice.

This salad was beautiful and delicious. It looked like a party on a plate ... like brightly colored confetti. The textures were excellent. The crunchy vegetables, crisp arugula and tender rice all combined together very well. The dressing was light, bright and uncomplicated. The Book says that this salad can be eaten as a main course. I served this salad with my Seared Salmon with Balsamic Glaze, and it was a nice match. I think that this salad would be a welcome addition to a summer picnic, too.

Date Cooked: March 21, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: B+

127. Seared Salmon with Balsamic Glaze (p. 290)

I've mentioned before that I have a special challenged facing me as I work through The Project, and that's my wife's refusal to eat beef, pork or lamb (I'm pretty sure that she won't eat rabbit either, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it, on page 408). Well, in recent weeks, The Project has become a bit more challenging. My three-month-old son has developed an allergy or intolerance to dairy, soy and/or wheat. And because my wife is nursing, if he can't eat it, she can't eat it. So, I've been scrutinizing the recipes in The Book to find meals that I can make that we both can eat. And one of the great things about The Book is that there are a surprising number of options that will work. The other good thing is that, this too, will pass, and my wife will be back on butter and flour in good time.

I picked this recipe because it fit within our dietary restrictions, and because it looked pretty easy. The recipe serves four, but because I feel funny about leftover fish (is that unreasonble?), I cut the recipe in half. First, I whisked together some balsamic vinegar (noting fancy, just the cheap supermarket stuff), water, lemon juice and brown sugar, and set it aside. Then I patted dry two salmon fillets (I used frozen wild Alaskan salmon from Whole Foods), and seared them in a pan with a little bit of oil, for a few minutes each side, skin side up first, and then skin side down. I put the salmon on two plates and then put the vinegar mixture in the pan for a few minutes until it had reduced. I spooned the glaze over the salmon, and we enjoyed it.

And did we enjoy it! The salmon was crispy and perfectly cooked. The glaze was light and intensely flavored. The lemon juice gave the dish a surprising brightness. Really very good. We liked it so much that I marched right back to Whole Foods to get more salmon and we had it for dinner the next night. The only drawback to this recipe is the smell. There's a bit of smoke when the fish is cooking, and the next day, there was a distinct odor lingering in the kitchen.

Date Cooked: March 21, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Very Easy
Rating: A-

126. Congee (Chinese Chicken and Rice Porridge) (p. 122)

One of my favorite books of all time (and favorite movies, for that matter) is The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck. The story follows Wang Lung on his journey from a modest country farmer to a wealthy aristocrat. Throughout the rises and falls of his fortunes, Wang Lung always remembers his connection to the land and the importance of his family.

According to The Book (the Gourmet Cookbook, not The Good Earth) Congee was often eaten morning, noon and night in Chinese peasant homes. So it's no surprise that this recipe made me think of The Good Earth, and Wang Lung's humble and constant companion, O-Lan. As I made this hearty, rustic dish, I could picture O-Lan patiently tending the fire under a large kettle of rice porridge, and then serving it to Wang Lung and his crusty old father.

They say that good things come to those who wait, and that you can't rush greatness. But when it's already 6:30 and you're looking at a recipe with a total cooking time of five and a half hours, you do the best you can. Did I cut a few corners? Did I cook the stock for two hours instead of three? Did I cook the rice for one hour instead of two? Would it have been better if I hadn't rushed it? Yes on all counts. But, you know what? It was pretty good anyway. I really liked it, and I'd make it again when I have the time to do it right. (And just when will that be? No, really ... when will that be?)

Other than time (that's time, not thyme), you really don't need much to make this recipe. Start by cutting a whole chicken into eight serving pieces, put it in a pot and bring it to a boil, skimming off the gunk that bubbles up at the surface. The Book doesn't say whether you're supposed to put the carcass (what was leftover after I cut the chicken into serving pieces) into the pot. I didn't, but I suppose I could have. Reduce to a simmer and add some Chinese rice wine, some thick slices of ginger and a few smashed scallions. After about 20 minutes of simmering, the breast meat is cooked through. The Book says to remove one of the breast halves from the pot and set it aside to cool. This will become the shredded chicken served on top of the finished porridge. If I had it to do again, I would have removed both breast halves. There simply wasn't enough meat in the finished dish. Then, leave the stock to simmer for about three hours (or just barely two hours, if you are in a rush like me).

Strain the stock and discard the solids. Add the rice, bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for about two hours (or just barely one hour, if you are in a rush like me). The Book says that the finished porridge should have the consistency of oatmeal. Mine was a little more watery than it was supposed to be, but it was late and I needed to get to bed. Anyway, I was making this a couple of days before we planned on eating it. I knew that the rice would continue to absorb the liquid as it sat in the refrigerator. So, by the time we re-heated it, the consistency was just about right.

To serve, I topped the porridge with the shredded chicken breast, some finely sliced scallions, finely chopped ginger and some salt and pepper. The flavor was good, if somewhat subtle (I'm sure that this had to do with the abbreviated cooking time). But, it had a nice fragrance and the ginger, chicken and scallion flavors came through. It also had a slight, but pleasant, sweetness. The texture was a little mooshy, but in a comforting, and not off-putting way. I thought that because of all of the rice and liquid, this would be a real "belly-bomb" of dish, but surprisingly the meal didn't have staying power, and I was looking for more to eat later (cookies and ice cream anyone?).


Date Cooked: March 15, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: B

125. Irish Soda Bread (p. 601)

I used to think that I liked Irish Soda Bread. Every St. Patrick's Day, I'd pick up a loaf from the grocery store bakery, all wrapped up in plastic covered in cute little shamrocks and sometimes even tied with a little green ribbon. I'd slice thick pieces and slather them with butter and chew ... and chew ... and chew. Sure, it could be a little gluey and dense and ever so slightly soggy. But, nonetheless, I'd eat it every year because it's just what you do on St. Patrick's Day. That's right, I used to think that I liked Irish Soda Bread. But now that I've made this recipe, I know that I love it.

First I sifted together my dry ingredients: flour, salt and baking soda (right, soda bread Adam says slapping his hand on his forehead). I mixed in a little bit of sugar and some healthy helpings of caraway seeds and golden raisins. Finally, I stirred in some buttermilk until the dough was evenly moistened, but still lumpy. (Can I just tell you again how happy I am that I found powdered buttermilk? No more trying to figure out what to do with the rest of a quart of buttermilk. I really think that it's changed my life.)

Then I turned the dough out onto a floured surface, kneaded it a bit and divided it into two halves. This was a little tricky because the dough was very, very sticky. But, I managed to shape the dough into two six inch rounds on a buttered, floured baking sheet. I cut an X into the top of each loaf and brushed them generously with melted butter.

I baked the bread until it had a nice, golden crust. To test for doneness, I took The Book's advice and picked up each loaf, tapped on the bottom, listening for a "hollow" sound. Just like a drum!

The Book says that the bread is best when allowed to sit for a few hours before slicing. Really? I think that it's just a test to see if you have enough will power to look at these golden, fragrant loaves and not tear into them right away. But, I behaved, and let them sit for three hours (but not a moment longer) before eating the first slice. Awesome! The crust was crisp and buttery. And inside, it was substantial without being heavy. The little bit of sugar gave it just a hint of sweetness, as did the golden raisins. The carway seeds lent the bread a nice anise flavor and some textural interest.

I sliced up one of the loaves and brought it to work with me. I left it in the kitchen next to the coffee machine, and it was gone in a matter of minutes. The other loaf was all mine. The Book gives all sorts of great ideas for different ways to enjoy this bread: with bacon and eggs; with smoked salmon. I'll have to make this bread again just to try them, because the loaf I had never made it past the butter dish. I devoured it all before I could think of creative things to do with it. But, it's got me thinking ... how would this be as the basis for a corned beef sandwich. I'm intrigued, but I'll have to think about it.

One thing's for sure, this will be one of the recipes that The Book will just automatically open itself to years from now after being made many, many St. Patrick's Days in a row.

Date Cooked: March 15, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A

124. Skillet Corn Bread (p. 600)

A while ago, I made a huge batch of Black Bean Chili. It was OK, but I really didn't like it. The thing is, I made so much of it, that I had bags and bags of it in the freezer, just waiting to be eaten. I figured that it needed "something," and I though that this recipe for corn bread would be the something to complement the chili and make it sing. Oh, well.

I really love corn bread. So, I had been looking forward to making this corn bread ever since I got The Book. As a matter of fact, this recipe is the reason I asked for cast iron pans for Christmas. Apparently, this corn bread has to be made in a cast iron skillet, since The Book says that a non-stick pan will produce "anemic-looking, soft corn bread." Ick!

First, I put my empty cast iron skillet in the oven to pre-heat. Meanwhile, I mixed together some stone-ground cornmeal, sugar, baking soda and salt. In another bowl, I whisked together some buttermilk and eggs. Then, I took the heated skillet out of the oven and put some softened butter in it. As I swirled it around, the butter sizzled and melted. I poured the melted butter into the egg and buttermilk mixture. Finally, I added the cornmeal mixture. Then I poured the batter into the hot skillet. The Book says to "scrape" the batter into the skillet. This seemed curious to me, since my batter was very liquidy, so there was no "scraping" at all. Did I do something wrong here? I put the skillet in the oven to bake for a while. It puffed up and browned very nicely, as you can see from the picture.

After I let the corn bread cool, I cut myself a nice slice and anxiously took a bite. How was it. Not that great, I'm sorry to say. First, it wasn't fully cooked in the middle. That may have been my fault because The Book says to use a nine-inch pan, and I used an eight-inch one, so my bread was thicker than what the recipe intended. But then there wast the flavor and texture. It was kind of oddly eggy and spongy. I though that it was strange that there was no flour at all in this recipe. Maybe this recipe is more "authentic," but every other recipe I've ever made for cornbread calls for at least a little flour. I also found the flavor to be a little bland. The recipe calls for only a half-teaspoon of salt. I think that it could have used more give the rest of the flavors more sparkle. The crust, however, was quite good. Buttery and crisp. I know that I'll make skillet cornbread againt, just not using this recipe.

I feel bad that the past couple of posts have been negative. Don't think for a moment that I'm losing any of my affection for The Book. Far from it. In the nine months since I started The Project, I've eaten so many wonderful things, and I've learned so much and gained so much more confidence as a cook. But, with more than 1,300 recipes in The Book, they can't all be my favorites. Stay tuned for my next post, which is one of my favories so far.

Date Cooked: March 8, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: C+

123. Peanut Butter Cookies (p. 663)

I love peanut butter, and I love cookies. So, you'd think that I'd love this recipe. But, unfortunately, these cookies were a bit of a disappointment.

They look a lot like the cookie-jar classic that just about every home cook has made once before. But there's something a little off about this recipe. At first, I though that it was just me. After all, I did use "reduced fat" peanut butter instead of regular. So, I figured that was why they were so dry and hard. But then I read Teena's post about these cookies. She made these cookies "by The Book," and still found them "chalky, dry, and floury." (In fact, Teena made them twice and hated them both times.)

There's nothing unusual about the recipe. Start by beating together some softened butter, chunky peanut butter and brown sugar. Then beat in an egg, some flour, baking powder and salt. Maybe there's just too much flour in the recipe? One and three-quarter cups of flour to a half-cup of butter and one and one-half cups of peanut butter doesn't seem out of whack to me, but recipe ingredient ratios are still pretty much a mystery to me.

While I didn't love these cookies, I did eat them (but I wouldn't share them with my co-workers, lest they think that I'm a lousy cook). The flavor was fine. Nice and peanut-buttery, with that little bit of saltiness that all good cookies have. The texture was all wrong, though. I won't be making this one again.

This post does give me a chance to talk about my newest kitchen gadget. I think that I've mentioned before that I'm not a big fan of "gadgets." I have great respect for the tried-and-true kitchen "tools" that professional and home cooks have been using for years. The more uses a tool has the better. But every now and then, I come across something that, while a one- or two-trick pony, is so perfectly suited to the task, that it earns a place in my kitchen (and not just in the junk drawer). My cherry/olive pitter is one of these tools, and my new Push Button Cookie Dough Scoop is another. My mom gave me this little wonder when she visited us a few weeks ago. It's a lexan spoon with a round, one-tablespoon scoop that has a flexible silicone bottom. You scoop some cookie dough from your bowl, press on the silicone bottom and you've got batches and batches of perfectly uniform cookies, just like that. Pretty cool! Thanks, Mom!

Date Cooked: March 7, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: C