As kids my brother and I both read the Little House series until our copies fell apart, and recently I picked up a used copy of Farmer Boy at a library sale and we both reread it. FB was always my favorite because instead of detailing the brutal struggle of pioneer life, it talks about Laura Ingalls Wilder’s husband Almanzo’s childhood, on a prosperous horse farm in upstate New York (WAY upstate, by the Canadian border). A lot of time is devoted to talking about the amazing food that Almanzo’s mother and sisters prepared to keep everyone fueled up for dawn-to-dusk manual labor, and I always loved the detailed meal descriptions. Breakfasts on the Wilder farm involved ham steaks, pancakes, pie, cheese, etc.—huge piles of food. At one point Almanzo and his brother Royal talk about what they like best to eat, and Almanzo says his favorite is Fried Apples ‘n Onions. Tom and I were discussing that after we reread the book last fall, and when I brought home a ham steak to fry for dinner the other day, I also picked up a few granny smith apples and figured I’d give it a try.

There are lots of Apples ‘n Onions recipes on the internet (there appears to be a Little House cookbook, which I should investigate), and Bittman also has a recipe in “How to Cook Everything”—I read them all and then kept it simple. I sliced two onions very thin, and then peeled and cut up two apples. I used a tablespoon or two of butter, sautéed the onions until they were starting to brown, then added in the apples and cooked until they were starting to soften (I could have cooked them a little longer).

I also baked baking powder biscuits, then pan-fried the ham steak and plated up a nice big Farmer Boy breakfast for dinner.

Very satisfying, and I want to play with the apples and onions a bit more. I could have cut the onions a little thicker and put the apples in earlier so they could soften more while the onions browned. Some recipes also recommend adding a tiny bit of brown sugar, which would have been a nice addition.

12/13: We had a slightly last-minute cocktail party for our friends who were still in town by the second week of December. Ben bought a very large quantity of cheese at the Coop, and we still have tons of cashews from an unfortunate bulk-buy this fall. Our friend Nancy (the Foods that Begin with P genius) volunteered to bring sweets, so I was off the hook for dessert, thank god. I had made a double batch of the strange flavor eggplant earlier in the week so I’d have a bunch for the party, and we put that out with fresh croutons. Note to self: those flavors don’t just pull together as they sit, they strengthen. What had been sweet and spicy on Sunday was CRAZILY garlicky on Wednesday. Very potent.

For hot snacks we grilled sausages and cut them up into coins, which we passed around hot. I made about 80 little mozzarella balls wrapped in prosciutto, inspired by an appetizer I’d eaten in Boston that week. These were broiled and served hot, but sadly I didn’t think it through AT ALL, and I used fresh mozzarella balls instead of cutting up a wedge of firm mozzarella. The water content, of course, was far too high, and they melted all over the place instead of staying in tidy balls. They tasted great, though, and I want to try again soon with the right cheese! Here’s the top of my prepared mountain of them, before they met their melty fate:

Inspired by an old, old post on Chocolate and Zucchini for creatively flavored palmiers, I set out to make a savory version, using a couple spreads I bought at the Coop: one sun-dried tomato (not usually my favorite, but it worked here) and an olivata. This is SUPER simple and a useful trick. I thawed store-bought (Pepperidge Farms) puff pastry, laid it out flat, spread it with the…spreads, grated a bunch of parmesan over it, and then rolled it up from both sides. Once it was rolled all the way up (I don’t have a photo of that stage) I pressed the whole thing together firmly so it wouldn’t unroll, then threw it in the freezer for a few minutes to firm up. You don’t want it frozen, just hard enough that you can cut thin slices off with a serrated knife. I baked those, and voila, savory cocktail nibbles!

There was slight confusion over the desserts and palmiers: one of the desserts was a fabulous batch of little turnovers filled with chocolate and nuts. I had couple people tell me they bit into those expecting meat, and the palmiers expecting sweet!

It was fun, though I didn’t have a sip of wine until all but a couple friends had left (we forced them to stay and visit and help us eat the cheese.) Amazing how many people can cram into a little house if you push all the furniture back against the wall…

Last week I bought my first ever chicken to roast whole, a challenge that I had been avoiding assiduously. Everyone says roasting chicken is incredibly easy, but I was a little overwhelmed by the whole “different sorts of meat at one time” thing. I figured I should get over it, bought the smallest chicken at the Coop (3 pounds), and planned to roast it for the two of us one night, along with brussels sprouts and potatoes. Then Tom emailed to see if we wanted to get together before he went home for the break, and I invited him to join us. No sweat, Tom understands, he’s family, it’s not a dinner party really. Then Ben went skiing with a friend from school and the friend and his wife were invited as well. Uh-oh. The friends had made us a lovely dinner a few weeks ago; I had really wanted to repay the favor by, say, making something I know how to cook.

But I faced the challenge, and got everything ready to go. I love brussels sprouts, especially when they’ve been roasted and are crispy (I need to replicate a recipe another friend made for us, in which she shredded the sprouts in her cuisinart and then roasted at high heat). I cut the sprouts in half, and just before putting them in the oven I tossed them with olive oil and a couple crushed garlic cloves, and spread them on a half sheet.
(Pretty! Another lovely vegetable:)

The potatoes were in two sizes–when I realized we were feeding 5 I asked Ben to pick up more, and he brought back much bigger potatoes! I cut everything into roughly equal slices, and tossed those in an oil/rosemary mixture, as directed by Bittman in How To Cook Everything. (This was mistake number one. I have a foolproof method for roasting crispy potatoes, and I strayed by not par-boiling these.) They went into the bottom of the roasting pan, and I slipped a little rack (from my slow cooker!) over them for the chicken, which was looking a little pathetic. Very small, and the skin was missing from a bit of the back…

At this point I eyed the sad little chicken, thought about feeding three adult men plus two women, and poked around in the cupboard for something to serve as a starter. I always have arborio, and risotto is one thing I can cook in my sleep (thanks Mom!), so that seemed like a safe bet. Of course, the Coop didn’t have dried porcini the time I went looking for them, so I had dried chanterelles, which turned out to be utterly flavorless. Nevertheless, I soaked a bunch of them, chopped them up fine, and fried a few in butter to top the risotto. The rest I stirred in once the shallot/onion was cooked.

Meanwhile the chicken and potatoes went into the over, and once there was 30 minutes (supposedly) left on cooking those, in went the brussels sprouts. We ate risotto. It was tasty. It looked pretty on my nice white pasta plates (this photo is actually the remainder from the pot, ungarnished; I forgot to photograph the plates).

Half an hour later, out come the brussels sprouts, a little too mushy, and in goes the meat thermometer. The chicken isn’t done. The potatoes are hard. Ok, more time. (Open another bottle of wine, honey!)

In with the thermometer. Maybe the chicken IS done! That reads 160 in a few places. I pull it out. Tom comes to see how I’m doing. We transfer the rocks/potatoes to the baking pan the sprouts were on, while Tom holds the chicken in the air with tongs down its neck. Potatoes back in the oven, chicken resting in the pan, another go with the thermometer and…it’s definitely not done. Back in the oven. Back out a while later, another rest, we start to carve it and despite all the statements to the contrary made by the thermometer, it is RAW along the backbone. Half flayed open, the poor thing goes BACK in the oven and I start making strange sounds under my breath. Ben comes in to see what’s taking so long. I say something rude. He retreats.

Tom picks the potatoes over and sorts out the ones that are somehow cooked.

Long story not-very-short, we did eventually serve dinner. It even tasted fine, though I was not thrilled with the not-crispy potatoes and the overdone sprouts. No one else seemed to notice or mind, though; Ben always says I obsess too much. The chicken, miraculously, was juicy and tender, if not the world’s most flavorful. It also lacked a crispy skin–can you imagine why? Sigh.

Interesting points:
1) Bittman’s carving instructions DID work. I was shocked to find myself suddenly producing a perfect boneless chicken breast. My knife did have a little trouble getting through the thigh joint, but Tom made it happen.

2) Good thing everyone drank two bottles of wine before dinner.

[An aside: Though we had a pathetic dusting a few weeks ago, during dinner we got our first real snow, leaving all the trees sparkly. After cleaning up the three million dishes at midnight, we went for a short walk and it was nice to finally see the neighborhood under snow!]