There are two large jars of dill pickles in my fridge, at the ready, for rounds of pickle shots. A remnant of an early summer thing. At least I think that’s why Danny got the jars.
But until we break out the vodka for a round or two (it’s never just one, is it?), well, we’ve also got these quick pickled peppers. We’ve been piling them high onto sandwiches with bread slathered in creamy goat cheese or tossing a handful into a salad.
I’m on a mason jar bender, using them for my morning iced coffee (until this growler gives out) or to carry snacks to the office. And I want my fridge to be filled with jars of homemade stuff. We’re on our way with these pickled peppers, and I’d like to add bourbon pickled jalapeños soon, thanks to this book. What are your favorite vegetables or fruits for pickling? There are also a lot of ideas in this book.
p.s. we finished the first jar of these pickled peppers and are left with the brine… I’m thinking it could contribute to a cocktail. What do you think?
Plums. Apples. Peppers. I wanna galette you all up.
Pâte brisée has come into my life and we are going to be friends for a long time. The world of pies, galettes, and quiches has opened up in front of me. I made a couple quiches recently to feed friends waiting for breakfast and the pate brisee baked up into a beautifully flaky, crisp dough, even on the bottom. I have extra pie dough in the freezer and have never felt so prepared.
The thing is it’s just so easy. A few whirls in my stand mixer, and it’s done. How could I not keep rolling out this dough?
Let’s hear it one more time for tomatoes? This is Florida, and our so-called seasons start way late. It’s finally cooling down this week and this morning was foggy and in the 60s, but I’m still finding cherry tomatoes at the market along with all kinds of squash: blue hubbard, delicata, turban, acorn, and butternut. Fall, sort of.
I’m buying two or four of these cherry tomato baskets at a time as long as they keep showing up. I usually spread them out onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper and shake the sheet until they all glisten from a glug or two of olive oil. Sprinkle with coarse salt and roast them at 400 degrees. Give them about 30 minutes, maybe 40. By then, I’ve figured out something for dinner.
Toss the roasted tomatoes into a bowl of pasta or an omelet with gobs of goat cheese. Stir into polenta. Maybe a sandwich the next day? Roasted tomatoes are like little bombs, intense with flavor and amping up anything you add them to. I keep roasting them whole, which really makes them little bombs. They might explode when you crack open the oven door for a peek. Just be careful. If that’s too much excitement, feel free to halve them. I like them that way, too, but pop them into the oven whole and you’ll be rewarded for very little effort. Easy like summer days.
Maybe it doesn’t look like it from here, but we’ve been cooking. We’ve made beet burgers, turkey meatballs, grilled bison steaks, quiche, and a plum galette I’d like to share with you soon. Pâte brisée is my new obsession and, as I half-jokingly told Danny, my homeboy. The dough comes together really quickly in a stand mixer; now I’ve got pie dough in the freezer and I feel more prepared than I’m accustomed to. I made pan-roasted chicken thighs with the crispiest chicken skin, seasoned with an herb salt. The ice cream maker finally showed up at my door and we plan on churning this weekend.
I’ll quit keeping these things to myself and start sharing with you. Let’s start with this brown butter pork chop.
The key moves for this pork chop are the brine and the basting. A salt and sugar brine with garlic and herbs makes a more flavorful, juicy chop. Basting the pork chop in brown butter infused with garlic and herbs intensifies the flavors and makes this the best pork chop I’ve ever had.