Elizabeth and I spend hours each December discussing which version of A Christmas Carol is best (This year I’m kind of leaning toward the Muppets one?). It’s a tough choice because they all have their moments. But the 1951 version is in the running for me every year because of the Cratchit family’s reaction to the goose Bob’s bought –– the sheer joy of a family in tough times savoring a simple pleasure gets me misty every time. I’ve always wanted to get in on some of that Christmas goose joy. But the Christmas goose is a weird thing.
Antoine-Auguste Parmentier, for whom potage Parmentier and a host of other potato dishes are named, is the rare agronomist whose life makes for an interesting read (George Washington Carver is another and after that I’ve got nothing.) While we now think of the potato as central to European peasant cuisine, that wasn’t the case in Parmentier’s time, prior to the French Revolution. An import from South America where it was a staple for the Indians of the Andes, the potato hadn’t caught on as human food in Europe and was thought to only to be edible only for animals. [Read more…]
If you’re a regular reader, you’re probably asking yourself right now “Wait, am I going crazy? Doesn’t Brooklyn Supper already have a roast chicken recipe? I thought we were just discussing that in my blog club the other day. That was, like, their second post. A classic.” Let me explain. You’re not going crazy. We do have a roast chicken recipe. That’s a very good memory you have there. It was actually our fifth post, but you were pretty close. We posted it all the way back in July of 2008, which was really a different time. Like people were already really annoying about bacon but they hadn’t gotten all weird about pumpkin pie spice yet.
In the intervening years, though, a few things happened that made us want to redo our roast chicken piece. [Read more…]
If my rural southern forbears found out that each year I seek out the chance to pick apples, they’d probably be disappointed that I didn’t own the orchard but glad that it was something easy like apples instead of something gross like tobacco. But when they found out that I actually pay for the privilege of doing farm work, they’d all keel over dead on the spot (hopefully after producing whichever offspring ultimately led to my existence). Why on Earth, they would wonder, would I pay to harvest fruit? And even worse, why would I drag my children into it?
Blue crabs are serious business in Virginia. I spent my high school years in Spotsylvania County, which is not on the Chesapeake, but is close enough to boast a few crab shacks and quite a few roadside vendors who do a brisk business. So, while I’ve eaten plenty of crabs, mostly steamed, it’s mainly been as a guest rather than a host. When we decided to make crabs for Elizabeth’s birthday party, I was simultaneously excited about taking on something new and a little gun-shy, haunted by the memory of a Lobster that Would Not Die a few summers ago. But, since all household tasks involving killing creatures larger than flies fall within my purview, I took a drink and got to work. [Read more…]
Summer fun has never been my kind of fun. I don’t like heat. I burn easily. I like wool sweaters and socks, thermoses of hot soup, and ice hockey. So when we decamped for Virginia, my plan for May to September was to ride out the daylight hours indoors with the AC running full blast and then sit on the porch with a beer and/or bourbon after sundown. Our dear friends (and distant relations) Patrick and Freedom spoke highly of their swim club as an antidote to Virginia summers, but I was skeptical. Pools, after all, are places where books get wet. [Read more…]
At Brooklyn Supper, we tend to focus on the basics, but sometimes, we like to go off the rails and make something that will be unfamiliar to most of you. Something strange and wonderful like the “hamburger.” You’ve undoubtedly heard attractive people talking about hamburgers at fancy parties and wondered what on Earth they could be, but you were too embarrassed to ask. Well, your secret shame is soon to be no more. Not only will you know what a hamburger is, you will be able to make one, too. You will be that attractive person at the fancy party. [Read more…]
Writing honestly about home cooking involves striking a difficult balance between presenting the reality of our home life and presenting dishes that people will actually want to read about and, we hope, make for themselves. We don’t want you to think that every meal we eat has been planned, prepped, fussed over, and arranged just so before it’s photographed and eaten. With a toddler and a kindergartener, it’s just not possible for us to put that much time into our everyday meals. However, we think about our readers too, and we assume you don’t want to read about spaghetti night four times a month, however real that would be.
So when we make a quick stand-by dish that’s both easy enough for a weeknight and seriously tasty, we’re excited to post about it. Which is to say, we’re glad to be able to share this skillet chicken with you. [Read more…]
If I were starting from a place of perfect ignorance of breakfast foods and tasked with naming them all like Adam and the animals, the Dutch Baby Pancake is probably what I would give the name “pancake” to. I mean, if someone told you, “Here’s a pan, make a cake,” you would mix up some batter, pour it into the pan, and stick it into the oven, right? And that simple fact right there, demonstrates why the Dutch baby pancake is such a fabulous breakfast. Because it really is a sort of cake. Or something between a cake and an English pudding. That you eat for breakfast. And it’s hot. And delicious. As it stands, though, I haven’t been given the duty of naming breakfast foods and that’s probably for the best because I imagine it’s thankless work and no matter what I came up with, people would rip on me nonstop on the internet. “why did u naem it bacon lol? u don’t bake it lololol.” [Read more…]
Tagines (and I mean the cooking vessel here, not the dish made therein) are the kind of cookware you come across in the store or on a friend’s wedding registry and you picture yourself hosting a dinner party and setting a steaming stew in the tagine base in the center of your table and one of your friends asks “What’s that?”
“Oh, that?” you say, “That is my tagine. [Read more…]