Poppy Seed Dressing

Hey! All you 21st Century food snobs! (Me included) Salad dressing with sugar in it is good. Not necessarily good for you, but tasty. I cut back on the sugar in this a little. If you follow the recipe, it contains 1/2 cup of sugar and 1/3 cup honey. Which is a lot of sweetener. I cut the sugar in half. What you have is a sweeter oil and vinegar dressing.
The note at the end of the recipe, which usually tells you where you might have been able to buy the ingredients should you have lived in New York City in the 1970s, this time said "Mrs. Linz uses the poppy seed dressing for orange, grapefruit and endive salad." Well, thought I, if it's good enough for the unknown Mrs. Linz of Connecticut, we ought to try it. So we had orange, grapefruit and endive salad which everyone seemed to like. Hey, hey, Mrs. Linz. Are you still out there in Connecticut?
There are various Internet recipes for orange, grapefruit and endive salad. I think we had two grapefruits and 4 oranges for 9 people, plus purple onion strips and, of course, endive. Just kind of do whatever you think best here.

Poppy Seed Dressing

1/2 cup sugar
1 teaspoon dry mustard
1 teaspoon paprika
1/4 teaspoon salt
5 tablespoons tarragon vinegar
1/3 cup honey
1 tablespoon lemon juice
2 tablespoons onion juice or finely grated onion
1 cup vegetable oil (not olive oil)
1 tablespoon poppy seeds

1. Mix together the sugar, mustard, paprika, salt and vinegar until sugar dissolves completely.
2. Add the honey, lemon juice and onion juice or onion. Gradually beat in the oil. Chill.
3. Add the poppy seeds just before serving. Makes about one and one half cups.

French Chocolate Cake

I finally had my Julie Powell moment. Julie Powell, foodies will remember, was the young woman who sought purpose in her life by setting a goal of making all the recipes in Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking in a year. Her efforts were reported in the movie Julie and Julia, with Meryl Streep. Ms. Powell was a perfectionist and spent a lot of time making and remaking dishes, throwing out the first batch because something in it did not turn out according to plan. I, on the other hand, am prone to say, what the hell, it will be okay and just blunder on with a curdled sauce or what have you.
To make French Chocolate Cake, I threw out, or more accurately, ate, not one, but two batches of what was supposed to be melted chocolate. Instead, it congealed into something like fudge. After the second batch, I was going crazy. I had melted chocolate zillions of times before, and it had never done this.
Well, this was a clear case of Hewitt not having tested the recipe. The first step in the original recipe, which will not be included in this recipe is, "Melt the chocolate gently with the water (one tablespoon) in the top of a double boiler over hot, not boiling, water." The first time, on Friday night, I melted the chocolate ever so carefully, making sure the water didn't boil. When it was almost melted, I poured in the tablespoon of water. Glunk. Shiny, mostly liquid chocolate instantly transformed into an intractable mass resembling metamorphic rock. It became clear after 10 more minutes that no amount of heat would melt this mess.
Saturday afternoon, after lunch, and after eating nearly a pound of the first attempt at melted chocolate I started again. My husband theorized that the problem was, I had added the water to the mostly melted chocolate. He said I should have put the water into the bowl with the chocolate and then applied heat. So, the second time I carefully put a tablespoon of water into the bowl with the new chocolate and applied heat. Same result. Chocolate piled up in the bowl like a brown iceberg. I was starting to get worried. People were coming to dinner at 7:00 and I still had to make the cake and the main course.
"Call Williams Sonoma," my husband said. "Ask them if they have the chocolate that the book says you should use." I had been using Giradelli Baking Milk Chocolate because Whole Foods didn't have Maillard's Eagle sweet chocolate.
For once, I took his advice. A very nice saleslady informed me that while Williams Sonoma did not have Maillard's Eagle sweet chocolate, the kind prescribed in the recipe, they did have Guittard, which was just as good. "I'll be right over," I promised, and hung up.
When I arrived at Williams Sonoma, I located both the chocolate and the salesperson I had spoken to. I started recounting my chocolate troubles.
"Oh," said the saleslady. "If you add water to chocolate it will seize up. Chocolate should be melted in an absolutely dry bowl. " Oh, I said. But, the recipe said...
She shook her head. "If you are concerned about the moisture content of the cake, you can add a tablespoon of water to the eggs while you beat them. "
"Ohhhh," I said. I trotted gamely back home with my pound of Guittard milk chocolate ($12. the pound) specially formulated in discs for better melting, put it in an absolutely dry bowl at low heat and left it strictly alone for about half an hour while it melted without congealing. Then I made the cake, stirring my tablespoon of water into the eggs, as directed by Williams Sonoma, who clearly knew more about it than the editor of The New York Times Heritage Cookbook, God bless her.
Now this is one of these cases of not exactly knowing how the recipe is supposed to turn out. What turned out was a very dense cake that didn't seem exactly cooked. I am sure that if I had inserted a skewer into the cake, it would not have come out clean. (Traditional recipes for cakes instruct the cook to stick a skewer into the cake to test for doneness. If the skewer comes out clean, it's done.) But, probably it wasn't supposed to. It was very good.

French Chocolate Cake

1 pound Maillard's Eagle sweet chocolate (or Guittard's milk chocolate)
1 tablespoon water
1 tablespoon flour
1 tablespoon sugar
10 tablespoons soft butter
4 eggs, separated
sweetened whipped cream
waxed paper

1. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.
2. Melt the chocolate gently in the top of a double boiler over hot, not boiling water. This is a critical step in the preparation and should be done very slowly.
3. Remove from the heat and stir in the flour, sugar and butter. Beat the egg yoks lightly. Stir the tablespoon of water into the egg yolks. Gradually whisk into the chocolate mixture.
4. Beat the egg whites until they hold a definite shape but are not dry and fold into the chocolate mixture. Overbeating or underbeating will ruin the cake. The beaten egg whites should be folded smoothly, quickly and easily into the chocolate mixture. (This is one of these "Cook until done" instructions. I don't know what to tell you. Just fold the egg whites in and don't worry about it.)
5. Pour into an eight-inch springform pan that has been lined with wax paper. Bake fifteen minutes. Turn off the oven heat. Open the oven door, leaving it ajar and allow the cake to cool completely in the oven.
6. If the center of the cake still feels soft (yes, it did) refrigerate an hour or two but cake is best served at room temperature. Decorate with whipped cream. Serve small pieces. The cake is rich. Makes ten servings.

Caviar Mousse

I had considered caviar mousse as an appetizer for the party we gave before the wedding, but was scared off by (a.) the unavailability of the quantities of caviar needed, (b.) the expense. I went back to it as one of the few remaining appetizer recipes that my husband could actually eat. We had a dinner party Saturday night after an old friend we had not seen in a while came by, and I invited her and her husband to dinner. I solved the expense part by using red caviar which is cheaper, but still pretty expensive, and getting my husband to pick it up on his way home from work. I was supposed to solve the quantities problem by cutting the recipe in half, which would have suited admirably, since there were nine of us at dinner, and half the recipe served nine.
However, after I told my husband to buy half as much caviar as the recipe called for, I went ahead and made the full recipe, with only half the caviar. Call it a case of brain blackout. So there was less caviar in the mousse. It was still a good appetizer, a jelled creamy mix of sour cream and mayonnaise, with the fish eggs exploding their salty fishy goodness in the mouth. Red caviar gave the mousse a mild pink tinge. Half the guests loved it. The other half took one bite and left the rest in its ramikin. I wonder if people ever say, "I don't want to go to dinner at their house. All they ever have is fish. I hate fish." The fish section is taking a long time to get through, that's for sure.

Caviar Mousse

3 envelopes unflavored gelatin
1/3 cup cold water
1 cup boiling water
1 teaspoon Worchestershire sauce
3 tablespoons lemon juice
1 teaspoon dry mustard
1/4 cup mayonnaise
6 cups sour cream
12 ounces caviar
toast rounds

1. Soften the gelatin in the cold water. Add the boiling water and stir to dissolve gelatin.
2. Add the Worcestershire sauce, lemon juice and mustard. Cool slightly.
3. Blend the mayonnaise and sour cream together. Stir in the caviar and then the gelatin mixture. Pour into a shallow serving dish or lightly oiled mold. Chill until firm. Unmold and serve with toast rounds. Makes 18 servings.

Maine Sardine Salad

As a food reviewer, I am a shockingly unadventurous cook and eater. Over and over again, in the course of writing this blog, I say, this was really good and I should have made it sooner, but it looked weird. Maine Sardine Salad is the same thing. If I had taken time to read beyond the title, I would have realized that this is Caesar Salad with sardines. The sardines add a mild fishiness to the taste, and what you end up with is a very acceptable salad, either as a salad, or as a main course.

Maine Sardine Salad

1 clove garlic, crushed or quartered (I chopped it up into tiny pieces,)
3/4 cup oil
1 1/2 cups small bread cubes
1 egg
1 small onion, sliced and sparated into rings
8 cups bite-size pieces romaine lettuce
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1/3 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheeze
3 three-and three-quarter ounce to four-ounce cans sardines
6 cherry tomaroes, peeled

1. Let the garlic stand in the oil one hour or longer. Remove garlic and discard. (This is one of these 1950s garlic hating directions. ) (Forget about it.) Cut your garlic into tiny pieces and mix it into the salad.
2. Heat one-half cup of the oil in a skillet, add the bread cubes and cook until golden and crisp. Drain on paper towels. Set aside.
3. Place the egg in a saucepan, cover with water, bring to as simmer and simmer one minute. Drain. Set aside.
4. Place the onion, romaine, salt and pepper in a salad bowl. Pour remaining oil over all and toss lightly. Break the egg into the salad.
5. Add the lemon juice and toss thoroughly. Add the cheese, bread cubes and sardines. Toss. Garnish with the tomatoes. Makes six servings.

Marinated Maine Sardines

Wikipedia, which, by the way, should only be spelled with one k lest the researcher think that something has happened to the famous on-line encyclopedia site, is disappointingly quiet on the subject of sardines. They are pilchards, Wikipedia informs us, and the sardine canning industry in the U.S. peaked about 1950. The last large sardine cannery in the country, in Prospect Harbor, Maine, closed last year. They are named for the island of Sardinia
In any case, sardines, which used to be popular in the U.S. as a cheap sandwich filling, are no longer popular. I, who have reached the advanced age of 60, had never eaten a sardine until I decided to bite the bullet and make the two sardine recipes in the Northeast section of the NYTHCB.
First of all I was surprised at how large they were. I expected them to be about the size of anchovies. They are actually about the size of an adult's index finger in diameter, at least at their midsections, if sardines can be said to have midsections. They taper down to about the diameter of a child's index finger at their tail ends.
Second of all, I was surprised at what a tasty dish Marinated Maine Sardines turned out to be. My husband observed that the taste was similar to marinated herring, and it was. This is a lovely hot weather dish. You MUST make it ahead of time to give the flavors a chance to blend. For once, the Berkshire Farmer followed directions and made the dish 24 hours in advance. The sardines on a bed of lettuce make a great main course salad, or an appetizer.

Marinated Maine Sardines

3 three-and-three-quarter-ounces to four-ounce cans sardines
3/4 cup sour cream
1/4 cup light cream
1/4 cup tarragon vinegar
2 tablespoons lemon juice
2 tablespoons dry white wine
1 clove garlic crushed
1/2 teaspoon horseradish
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup onion thinly sliced, separated into rings
1 cup thinly sliced peeled cucumber
Boston lettuce cups

1. Day before, drain the sardines and arrange in a single layer in a shallow baking dish. Combine the sour cream, light cream, vinegar, lemon juice, wine, garlic, horseradish and salt.
2. Mix together cream mixture, the onion and cucumber and spread over sardines.
Chill overnight. Next day, arrange in lettuce cups. Makes six servings.

Anchovy Stuffed Cherry Tomatoes

The big day finally came. Fiance is now daughter-in-law, and I am someone's mother-in-law, God wot. The cookbook played no part in the nuptials. However, I decided to have a group of various relatives and my out of town friends to dinner on Friday night before the wedding, and made anchovy stuffed cherry tomatoes for that. I have to say it was one of my more unsuccessful efforts. Roughly three-quarters of them were left the next morning. This was not entirely surprising because they weren't very good.
Anchovies are salty little mothers, and the stuffing turned out to be overpoweringly salty and fishy. I added about a quarter of a cup of mayonnaise to the mix to get it to hold together. Anchovies, chopped hardboiled egg yolks, and capers do not a cohesive filling make. If one was committed to making this dish, it's hard to know how to advise them. Possibly, you could try mixing in cream cheese to lessen the saltiness. Or, one might soak the anchovies, but part of the charm of anchovies is their oily goodness, and soaking would surely do away with that. After my cousin Lou efficiently cored all the tomatoes, too.
Well, here's the recipe.

Anchovy Stuffed Cherry Tomatoes

18 to 24 cherry tomatoes
6 hardcooked eggs
12 flat anchovy fillets, chopped.
1 tablespoon drained chopped capers.
Freshy ground black pepper to taste
1 tablespoon finely chopped parsley;

1. Cut a small piece off the end (away from the stem) of each tomato. Scoop out the pulp and discard. Place tomatoes upside down to drain.
2. Combine the egg yolks, anchovies, capers, pepper and parsley and use to fill the tomatoes. Chill. Makes ten servings

Potato Salad II

As I believe I have mentioned before, I am not a huge fan of variations in the potato salad department. Some variations, like adding cheese to deli potato salad, are okay. Not using mayonnaise, not really okay. This potato salad calls for heavy cream, which is then whipped, and sour cream. This potato salad is acceptable. if bland. It's just not the kind I like.
It calls for "waxy potatoes." This is an old fashioned expression, so do not expect the vegetable man at Safeway to know what you mean, unless his grandmother came from Ireland. It refers to a low starch potato that will hold its shape after boiling. According to The Cook's Thesaurus, found at http://www.foodsubs.com/, red potatoes, round white potatoes or yellow Finn potatoes are waxy potatoes.
The cooking directions are somewhat tricky. The idea is to have the potatoes be firm, but probably not crunchy. Mine were crunchy. I made this some three weeks ago, before we went on vacation, so I can't say if I chilled the potatoes or not. Probably not.
About thin mayonnaise. This direction probably originated in the days before Helman's when cooks made their own mayonnaise, and made it thin or thick as desired. Thin mayonnaise will pour off the spoon instead of glopping.
The final direction was to serve it as soon as possible. Since we eat when my husband gets home, and that depends on the vagaries of the Congress of the United States, I did not serve it as soon as possible. It seemed not to suffer any ill effects from sitting around for 45 minutes or so. So, I would say not to worry about that too much.

Potato Salad II

1 pound waxy potatoes
2 tender ribs celery, approximately
3/4 cup heavy cream
1/4 cup sour cream
2 tablespoons cider vinegar
juice of half a lemon
salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
1/4 cup cooked ham

1. Cook the potatoes in jackets, another old fashioned expression. It means don't peel them first.) taking care not to overcook them. Let cool then chill.
2. Peel potatoes. Cut them first into thin slices, then cut each slice into thin matchlike strips. Place strips in a mixing bowl.
3. Cut the celery ribs into two-inch lengths. Cut each lenth of celery into very thin strips. There should be about half as much celery as potatoes. Add celery to potatoes.
4. Whip the heavy cream until it is the consistency of thin mayonnaise. Do not whip until stiff. Stir inthe sour cream, vinegar, lemon jice, salt and pepper. Pour over potatoes and celery. Mix gently without breaking potatoes.
5. Cut the ham into very thin strips and scatter over the salad. Serve as soon as possible.
Makes four servings.