Or not really, but publishes the article anyway!

Glenn Collins of the NYTimes asks:

After the hue and cry following Paula Deen’s announcement that she has Type 2 diabetes and would become a paid spokeswoman for a drug company, a question nags: Is the food that emerges from her kitchen really less healthy than the cuisine from other restaurants?

So he had a meal from Deen’s restaurant (fried chicken, collard greens, and macaroni and cheese, which he calls “reasonably sized”) and a dish from an Italian restaurant in Greenwich Village (sausage and peppers with polenta, which he calls “hardly cuisine minceur”) sent to Certified Laboratories in Plainview, NY for nutritional analysis.

On the one hand, he seems to realize how pointless this is, admitting that the comparison was “unscientific and arbitrary.” Turns out the fried chicken meal has more than 2x as many calories and grams of fat, but less than a third as much “sugar” (unclear what that measures—sucrose? glucose? fructose? lactose? all of the above?) of the sausage and polenta. No word on total carbs. Is there a lesson to be drawn from this “subjective test,” he asks? (Which is also wrong: the problem is not that it’s “subjective”—the nutritional analysis is objective, all right. The problem is that it’s completely meaningless because he made no attempt to control any of the variables.)

Well, lovers of both Deen and Frankies are hereby advised to consider moderation and not look to Ms. Deen for enlightenment.

Many things about this article confuse me. Why not compare a meal from Lady & Sons to a comparable meal at another restaurant: i.e. find another fried chicken, mac & chs, and collard greens plate? Why not do an analysis of the nutritional breakdown of several of her recipes compared to other people’s versions? Or try to figure out the average nutritional content of a Lady & Sons meal and compare it to FDA recommendations? All of those methods would still have limitations, but at least you’d be comparing oranges and oranges.

I think the most head-scratching word in the entire article is the “hereby” in the above quote.

What information presented here makes the case for moderation—and moderation in what? The sausage and polenta dish has 347 calories and 15 grams of fat, which is probably less of both of those things than I eat for breakfast most days. And Deen’s fried chicken dinner comes in at only 830 calories, which is less than most of Subway’s $5 Footlongs (tuna salad on 9-grain wheat without cheese or extra sauce has a total of 930 calories; turkey breast on Italian with regular mayonnaise and no cheese has 860 calories; the meatball marinara on Italian Herbs & Cheese with no extra cheese or sauce has 1050). Neither of them seem particularly excessive to me; in fact, I’m pretty sure eating just the polenta dish for dinner would leave me feeling hungry. Perhaps Frankie’s is the kind of place where most people order multiple courses?

Has anyone has ever turned to Paula Deen for medical or nutritional advice? As even she noted when she made the announcement that she has Type 2 Diabetes on the Today Show, she’s a cook, not a doctor. I’m not impressed with her decision to use her diagnosis as an opportunity to profit by acting as a spokesperson for pharmaceutical company Novo Nordisk, who make the diabetes drug Victoza she claims to be taking. Fortunately, based on some preliminary reactions, most ad executives and consumers aren't loving it either. And I’m really not sure what information in this article is supposed to have any bearing on Deen as a source of “enlightenment.” Actually, she might actually be able to provide some great insight about building a food brand, being dissed by Anthony Bourdain, partnering with ethically suspect corporations, getting them to donate food to charity, and mugging terrifyingly for the camera.

At least the article refrains from blaming Deen for her diabetes, the way so many others have in the wake of her announcement. As if anyone knows how she eats on a day to day basis anyhow or the relationship between diet, weight, and diabetes was simple and universally agreed-upon. But I understand the tendency to moralize about health. In some ways, this article is much more mysterious. If you’re going to go to the trouble and cost of having nutritional analysis done to try to figure out if Paula Deen’s food is really “worse” than anyone else’s, why not do it in a way that would actually enable you to reach something approximating a conclusion?

Naan Without a Tandoor

As I’ve written about before, the closest I’ve gotten to recreating the kind of bubbly, poufy flatbread you get at Indian restaurants is by cooking it on cast iron preheated on the stovetop as hot as it will possibly go. That gives you the charred surface and pale, pillowy edges. Oven baking turns the same dough into pita—too done all over, but not blackened anywhere.

The downside is that if you get your cast iron hot enough to cook naan and then brush it with ghee or oil, which you must do to prevent the dough from sticking, you’re going to generate a lot of smoke. So unless you have a miraculous kitchen fan or really like eating in smoky rooms, you might want to save this for a potluck or dinner party that someone else is hosting.

It’s pretty quick once you get cooking, especially if you have a griddle or two pots so you can cook two pieces at a time. The thirty seconds each piece takes to cook on one side is just long enough to roll out the next piece. In less than ten minutes, you can have the whole batch done and be out the door. And hopefully by the time you get home, the smoke will have cleared.

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Happy last year of the Mayan calendar! Here’s how I welcomed it: 

How the spread looked around 8pm

Cheese Balls Three Ways: Cheddar-Cranberry, Roquefort-Shallot-Walnut, and Herbed Goat Cheese
Sourdough-risen Baguette
Sourdough-risen No-Knead Bread
Crudités
Bacon-wrapped Dates stuffed with Parmeggiano & Almonds
Deviled Eggs with Caviar
Shrimp Cocktail
Cheddar-Ale Gougères
Mini Crab Cakes with Cilantro-Lime Ailoi 
Candied Cranberries
Dulce de Leche Crisps
Chocolate-covered Strawberries
Champagne Jell-O Shots with Raspberries
Dark Chocolate Truffles rolled in Coconut or Spiced Nut Crumble
Spiced Nuts
Admiral’s Punch

How it looked around 2am

Everything linked above was a repeat. New things I would make again: the mini-crab cakes, the champagne Jell-O shots, and the cheddar-ale gougères. All three were easy, delicious, and gone by the end of the night. Things I probably won’t make again: the dulce de leche crisps, which were kind of boring—neither sweet nor salty enough to be interesting, the truffles, because the nut butter made them a little grainy, and the cocktail sauce, which was exactly like cocktail sauce out of a bottle so why bother? Nothing else exceeded or fell short of expectations. Cheese balls are cheese balls. Caviar deviled eggs are caviar deviled eggs. Details on all of it after the jump. Read more

The Lovechild of a Gingerbread Man and a Snickerdoodle

Most of my Christmas standards are things I make because other people like them or because they’re my grandma’s recipes. In some ways, isn’t Christmas really all about grandmas? These are the one exception. They’re the cookies I make because I like them.

Texturally, they’re almost identical to snickerdoodles—they have the same ratio of butter : sugar : flour :  eggs and they’re also rolled in sugar before baking, so the outside gets crackly and has a little crunch. But flavor-wise, they’re all gingerbread: molasses and cinnamon and nutmeg and ginger and cloves. You can imagine how they smell as they bake.

The best part about these cookies is that if you don’t over-bake them, they turn out amazingly soft. And they stay that way even after they cool, even if you don’t store them in a perfectly airtight container, even if you want to make them a week before Christmas and savor them until New Year’s Day. I think it must be because of the little bit of oil in the dough. It does make them a little more prone to falling apart, but I think that’s a small price to pay for enduring just-out-of-the-oven softness.

If you like the kind of gingerbread that bites back, you might want to double all the spices. I think they’re  perfect as is: as much butter as you can possibly get into a cookie without it melting into a puddle of goo (which they occasionally do anyway, as you can see at approximately 3 o’clock in the picture above), just enough molasses and spices to be festive without getting too overbearing, and a little sparkle from the sugary coating. They’re also the easiest part of this year’s pared-down cookie assortment.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Read more

Christmas kind of snuck up on me this year. Normally, I’d be at least a week into a meticulously worked-out plan to make a dozen different edible gifts and send them all over the country. It started in high school, when I’d bake a dozen kinds of cookies, carefully selected to represent a balance of chocolate/fruit/nuts/mint and a variety of shapes and colors and textures. Last year, I got excited about giving people mulled wine kits with little cheesecloth bags of mulling spices and made four different kinds of chocolate-covered buttercreams. This year, it wasn’t until a week before the holiday that I had the sudden realization that if I didn’t make cookies right now, I would not be making any Christmas cookies at all this year. 

The upside of having to pare my usual holiday efforts down to a bare minimum is that it made me discover what my traditions are—the recipes that have become my “standards,” the things I absolutely have to make in order to feel like the holidays are happening. So instead of scouring the internet for new ideas or comparing half a dozen different recipes to find the common denominator, this year I’m relying on tried-and-true favorites, a combination of inherited recipes and new favorites discovered somewhere along the way:

• Old-fashioned Sour Cream Sugar Cookies with Buttercream Frosting
• Date-Nut Pinwheels
• Soft Molasses Cookies (recipe coming soon in Part II of “Holy Crap it’s Christmas! Cookies”)
• Cheese Straws
• Spiced Nuts

Why Date-Nut Pinwheels Make the Cut

My grandmother made these every year at Christmas: a rich sugar cookie dough filled with a mixture of dates and walnuts or pecans, simmered with sugar and water until they’re like a thick jam. The cookie dough calls for half brown sugar and half white sugar, so it has just a hint of warm molasses flavor. It also calls for half butter and half shortening, so the texture is in between soft and crispy. Normally, I like cookies baked just until they’re barely done and gooey in the middle when they’re hot. But one of my uncles likes these almost “overdone,” and in this case, I think he’s onto something. The date mixture keeps them soft in the middle, but the edges get crisp and the deeper color represents more caramelization and the slightly-nutty flavor of browned butter.

You could use all butter, which will result in a slightly flatter and crisper cookie (due to the water content in the butter), or all shortening/lard, which will result in a slightly softer and puffier cookie without the buttery flavor. I like the flavor and texture you get by using half and half.

They’re not quite as simple as a drop cookie, but also not really designed to impress anyone. The logs are never quite perfectly circular and the ends are always a little wonky. I was never a big fan as a kid, but I’ve gotten increasingly fond of them. They seem to symbolize the caring labor of holiday baking. They’re something you make because they’re someone’s favorite, because they’re familiar, because your grandma made them, not to show off. And although the combination of butter, dates, and pecans may not be inventive or aspirational, it’s still pretty delicious. Read more

My friend Voxphoto gave me some tasty homemade sauerkraut, which reminded me of the kielbasa appetizer recipe from Sarita Ciatti that we included in the wedding cookbook. The only two ingredients in the appetizer are kielbasa and sauerkraut—you slice the kielbasa thinly, fry it until it’s crisp, refrigerate it overnight, and then spread it in a pan on top of a bunch of drained, rinsed sauerkraut and bake it until the whole mess gets sweet and tender and starts caramelizing around the edges. So. Good.

But I’m not entertaining much these days. Not really cooking much either. Working 60+ hours a week will do that to you. So I decided to look for something similar that would be a little less “party” and a little more “something resembling a meal you can make a lot of on Sunday and eat all week.”

Combining elements from half a dozen other recipes, this is what I came up with—it’s basically a stovetop version of the appetizer served alongside stewed cabbage and potatoes. The kielbasa got some beer and brown sugar and the cabbage stew also has carrots, potatoes, onions, garlic, some herbs and mushroom bouillon. All of that is probably optional, but if you’re only going to cook once a week, might as well pull out the bay leaves, right?

Turned out pretty tasty, and pretty cheap, too, even if you don’t get your sauerkraut for free.

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