It is a good thing that we got organized last week! Who knew that the weather was finally going to change and become winter? That we were going to spend so much time in the kitchen, cooking to stay warm? And now many of the annoying Tupperware and Rubbermaid containers are now full with a bounty of warming and comforting foods. We are veritable boy scouts: prepared! Bring on the chilly snow days!

I was so happy the other night; all I had to do was root around in the fridge for a few minutes, to tug out a color coordinated Rubbermaid container of fresh, homemade chili, a chunk of cornbread, and a bag o’salad. Over the weekend Mr. Sanders and I had cooked and baked in tandem, in perfect harmony, which is amazing, considering the size of our kitchen.

I made a batch of chili, based on a recipe from Weeknight Chili in Food52, which in turn, is based on an America’s Test Kitchen’s chili recipe. Mr. Sanders baked chocolate biscotti, from a New York Times recipe. While I chopped and minced, browned and simmered, he weighed and measured, sifted and rolled. We made dinner for Sunday night, Wednesday night, with enough leftover for chili dogs for Thursday lunch. (We have also discovered the delights of chocolate biscotti for dessert after an abstemious breakfast of sticks and twigs. Yumsters!)

Sunday Afternoon Chili – No Beans

1 sweet onion, chopped
1 red or green bell pepper, chopped (don’t use seeds or pith)
Salt (I used a new, fancy French salt, Carmargue Fleur de Sel, just for kicks – Diamond Crystal is fine!)
4 tablespoons chili powder
4 teaspoons ground cumin
1 teaspoon cayenne (because we like spicy, you might want to modulate)
4 tablespoons tomato paste
6 garlic cloves, minced (because we really like garlic)
2 pounds ground beef
Go ahead and add beans, if you must
1 1/2 cups chicken stock
1 1/2 cups beef stock
15 ounces can crushed tomatoes or tomato sauce
Grated cheddar cheese, chopped cilantro, chopped green onion

Brown the meat in a Dutch oven, or in a large pot with a cover. Break up the meat with spoon, and cook until almost brown. Drain the fat. Add chopped onions and peppers and garlic. Season with a pinch of salt and add the chili powder, cumin, and cayenne. Cook, stirring every so often, until the vegetables are soft, 5 to 7 minutes. Add the tomato paste, and stir. Reduce heat to low. Add the crushed tomatoes or tomato sauce. Cook and stir for a few minutes. Then add the stocks and cook on low, covered, stirring occasionally, until the chili has thickened, about 60 minutes. I was worried that it would never thicken, but it did. Eventually. I let it cook uncovered for another half hour. The flavor deepened with all the simmering and the chicken and beef stocks. This was much better tasting chili than the Wick Fowler’s Chili 2 Alarm Kit (my old school night stand by) ever produced. And without chemicals, preservatives or thickening masa flour! It helps to sit at the kitchen counter with a book. (This week I am reading Prairie Fires, by Caroline Fraser.)

Serve topped with grated cheese, cilantro, radishes or green onions. Fritos are a delight, too. We made corn bread and had small green salads. It’s still Dry January around here, so it was Diet Coke for me and a tall lemonade for Mr. Sanders. Luke the wonder dog waited patiently. He is fond of sweet, buttery corn bread crumbs.

These biscotti take all afternoon, too. There is no rushing the progress, unless you want to go to the store for Stella D’oro Biscotti. This is an excellent way to spend a dark, wintery afternoon, sampling chocolate chips and licking the extra chocolate-y batter off the electric beaters. You won’t regret the time spent in the warm kitchen. Union Square Café’s Chocolate Biscotti

Welcome, winter!

“The true way to live is to enjoy every moment as it passes, and surely it is in the everyday things around us that the beauty of life lies.”
― Laura Ingalls Wilder

The inside of the Spy Test Kitchen’s refrigerator is not a pretty sight – but it will be soon. We started 2024 with such promise. We were going to keep fruits in one drawer, vegetables in another drawer, with a bin for breads, and another bin for cheeses. Deli turkey and leftover meatloaf were to have their own drawer, along with the stick of pepperoni for Friday night pizza. The condiments should have been nestled all snug in their own bins on the door, with containers of 2% milk and half and half just below.

Instead, the mustard is filed away with some beer on a door, the bag o’salad is tucked in a drawer with the Boar’s Head Lower-Salt turkey slices, the peppers are rolling around with the apples, and last night’s leftover sausage and peppers has the pride of place, in a crumpled Baggie, on the top shelf, just at my eye level, where I tossed it last night. Plainly, there is no order here. I have never been a fan of new year’s resolutions, so thank goodness I am taking up this cudgel mid-week, mid-way through January. There will be tidiness. Eventually.

For a raft of reasons we had to buy a new fridge recently, and we are still getting to know its wily ways. We have been unlucky and flooded out by refrigerators with ice makers and water dispensers in the door, so this new one merely dispenses ice into a bin in the freezer, which is a huge improvement over the old, crotchety, leaky ice maker. (Except for the day a few months ago when Mr. Sanders accidentally dropped an open bag of Tater Tots into the ice cubes. I still think of that day, when I suck a bit of Tot up a straw with a mouthful of nice, cold fresh Diet Coke. But I digress.) It is a brand new, shiny refrigerator. The contents of the fridge should know where to go, naturally.

I laughed about an article about life in New York City recently. In New York City you can pay someone $150 per hour to come organize your life. There is a 2-hour minimum consulting fee, first of all, as the professional organizer assesses your pathetic, discombobulated way of living. If I could afford it, I could have a pro come in an reorganize my entire life! They could Marie Kondo-ize my sock drawer, my winter wardrobe of turtlenecks, sweaters and yoga pants, sort through my bottles of watercolors, and tidy up my tray of brushes. The garage would be spider-free, with the tools sorted by handle length and season. The front hall closet would have his and hers sections for winter coats and rain coats, and a shelf for artisanally crafted baskets for gloves, hats and dog poop bags. In the pantry, the boxes of stale Triscuits would be curated into designer-favored lucite containers. All sell-by dates on the artichoke hearts and canned goods would be boldly marked, in calligraphy, with Sharpies. And the books! The books would be organized by subject, and then alphabetically by author, except for the stack by my side of the bed, in which there are three I am reading, one I am considering reading, and the one I should be reading but have managed to dodge so far. Oh, then there is the linen closet, my shoebox of receipts for taxes, and the kitchen drawers – not every aspiring drawer can be a junk drawer.

Obviously the idea of hiring a professional organizer to come into our home is as much a pipe dream as living a luxurious life in Manhattan would be. I can’t afford such foolishness, and anyway, I wouldn’t want anyone rummaging in my fridge or my books. The idea of organizing our whole house is daunting. I procrastinate and I avoid major undertakings. Weak-willed, I wander through Instagram and YouTube, looking for help and inspiration. I also read other peoples’ New Year Resolution lists. And as much as I scoff, there are some admirable gems to be gleaned from these sources.

Baby steps! The Guardian had an enormous list of New Year’s Resolutions which was daunting. Transform Your Life I particularly like 28: “Doing a timed 10-minute tidy with my partner and kids every day. This has improved the cleanliness of the house significantly. Untidiness no longer drags down the mood. It also means we don’t need to do lengthy chores at the weekend.” I think I can manage a 10-minute tidying up every day. 10 minutes of attention to the refrigerator and its contents every few days would be enormous. 10 minutes on my sock drawer might be overkill.

Re-think how to store food in your fridge. Everything we have learned about storing food is counter-intuitive to using up every bit of our food so we don’t waste it, or the efforts of the farmers who toiled to bring us our sustenance. When I open the fridge, I don’t see all those good vegetables and fruits – they are tucked away in dark, out-of-sight-out-of-mind drawers. I see the jar of mayonnaise that isn’t going to go bad overnight. I need to see those carrots and radishes that will make a tasty little schmakeral of a snack. I need to be reminded that that asparagus would make a nice addition to dinner tonight. Fruits and vegetables, front and center! Jiaying Zhoa had great idea about eating more plants; I wish it was mine. How to Feng Shui Your Fridge

The Washington Post has a practical way for you to eat more plants, and to make yourself happier and healthier: Refrigerator Hack Our new fridge is about to be transformed!

Welcome to 2024! Introduce changes gradually. Stand on one foot while you brush your teeth – 2 minutes a day to better balance. Walk a little farther every day. Smile at a stranger. Take 10 minutes to tidy a corner or a fridge. Eat more fruits and vegetables. Make frittatas to use up bits of cheese and veggies. Be happy.

“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien

Ah, all those New Year’s resolutions are relentless. Who knew we were so lazy, so fat, or such wastrels? Or that self-improvement could feel so dogged? The parking lot at the Y has been extra crowded this week, as everyone in bright, brand spanking new sneakers eagerly packs into the morning Jazzercise group or self-consciously trots on the treadmill. For once, I am part of the in-crowd: I’ve met my 10,000 steps goal for the past five days. I’ve also eschewed cheap white wine, sigh. And I am being more careful about what I eat – which is easy considering what a sybaritic life we briefly led over the holidays: French 75s, sparkling wine, peppermint bark, Chex mix, shortbread drizzled with ganache, cakes, roasted turkey, spaghetti Bolognese, beef tenderloin, bacon, Béarnaise sauce, brandy butter – and that is just the beginning of the alphabet of delicious calorie-laden holiday treats. Perhaps New Year’s resolutions are just pressing the reset button. Sticks and twigs in 2024?

We roasted a turkey one night during the holidays, as one does. It really is almost as simple as roasting a chicken, it just presents dramatically. There was more help in the kitchen than we normally have. There were helpful hands to baste the bird every half hour, and even more to peel a mountain of potatoes. I watched helplessly as we ended up with a 5-pound bag peeled, cooked and mashed. For four people (and one clueless, yet ever-hopeful, dog). You could see that bowl of mashed potatoes from outer space: there were more potatoes than we could possibly eat in one sitting. And yet, we tried mightily, piling our plates high with that buttery, starchy goodness that first night; candles lit, wine decanted, napkins in laps. They warmed us later as we sat by the fire, glowing with wine and bonhomie.

Then we ate potatoes with leftover turkey sandwiches for lunch. We ate more repurposed as potato pancakes, with eggs and sausage balls, for breakfast. And like Strega Nona’s pasta pot, we still had more potatoes. After our company departed we confronted the refrigerator, packed with leftovers: a motley assortment of Tupperware, Saran-wrapped bowls, Baggies, aluminum foil packets and that towering bowl of mashed potatoes. We turned to the internet, which led us to Shepherd’s Pie, which is what we call Cottage Pie, because we use ground beef. (You might want to be more authentic and use ground lamb.) And we made a large Shepherd’s Pie. Too large for two people. But it was perfectly suited to this season of New Year’s resolutions: it used up the last bit of potato. We could check “Thrifty” off on our list of New Year’s virtues, because we hadn’t wasted any potatoes, and managed to get three more meals out of that original batch. And now I would like a nice green, leafy salad. Dressing on the side, please.

Here is the recipe for the original batch of mashed potatoes. I think you can safely name it, just like you named your sour dough starter during COVID, as it might be around for a couple of weeks. Milk Simmered Mashed Potatoes

This is the recipe I used for our Shepherd’s Pie, but there are plenty out there floating around cyberspace, even vegetarian versions: Shepherd’s Pie

Vegetarian Shepherd’s Pie

Guinness even makes a Shepherd’s Pie mix, that you can keep in with your spices, in case you ever find yourself, like us, with an embarrassment of mashed potatoes: Guinness Shepherd’s Pie Mix

Go easy on yourself with all your good New Year intentions. Slow and steady, with a side of potatoes.

“During all this, Mary had been extracting eyes from potatoes with such energy that they had been flying around the kitchen like hailstones. At this moment, one hit me in the eye and caused a momentary pause in the conversation.”
― Agatha Christie

This is an updated version of the column I wrote last year for New Year’s Eve. Happy New Year, Gentle Readers!   

This New Year’s Eve I will be sitting companionably on the sofa with Mr. Sanders. We entertained young folks over Christmas, and all the holiday cooking and merriment has exhausted us. We were very, very merry. That said, we haven’t stayed awake until midnight on New Year’s Eve in years, let alone gone to a party that involved conversation, panty hose or staying up late. Usually, and in the COVID times, we two have an intimate supper of simple nibbles with candlelight, and a glass or two of fizz before we collapse on that sofa and find a movie we can both enjoy, before one of us falls asleep.

Prosecco or Champagne? It’s a personal choice. I prefer the economy of Prosecco, because the quality of the pricey, tinier, French bubbles in Champagne no longer strikes me as crucial. I’ll be asleep before 10, with either French or domestic wine. Which kind of cool, sparkling wine we guzzle while toasting a festive New Year’s Eve is not important.

2023 was been a year full of dark clouds. Let’s move briskly on to 2024: perfect in every way, as we project our hopes and expectations on it – brand new, fresh, crisp, and as yet, unmarred.

This year we will ring in the new year with the best of intentions: to be economical, resourceful, and clever with our use of leftovers. We will promise to compost and recycle more, waste less food; eat more plants, and less red meat. We pledge to grow something more nutritious than one crop of costly tomatoes, and we will patronize the farmers’ markets. We will walk more, and will be good volunteers. We will resolve to read more books and spend less time on our screens. We will try to be kind.

In the meantime, it is Friday night, and it has been a long week. It’s the last time to indulge in 2023. Instead pouring a glass of my usual cheap winter Malbec, I thought I should test some seasonal, perhaps New Year’s Eve-ish cocktail recipes, to get back into the holiday spirit. These are crowd pleasers, but they require a little planning.

“The feeling of friendship is like that of being comfortably filled with roast beef; love is like being enlivened with Champagne.”

– Samuel Johnson

My Favorite French 75s
“Hits with remarkable precision.”
-Harry Craddock, “The Savoy Cocktail Book”

2 ounces gin
1 ounce lemon juice
1 spoonful extra fine sugar
Champagne

Shake the gin, lemon juice and sugar in a cocktail shaker filled with cracked ice until chilled and well-mixed and then pour into tall glass containing cracked ice and fill up the glass with Champagne. This clever cocktail was said to have been devised during WWI, the kick from the alcohol combo being described as powerful as the French 75mm howitzer gun.

“Meeting Franklin Roosevelt was like opening your first bottle of Champagne; knowing him was like drinking it.”

-Winston Churchill

Champagne Cocktail

In a Champagne glass add a teaspoon of sugar and enough Angostura bitters to melt the sugar.
Add a tablespoon of Grand Marnier or cognac and mix in with the sugar, bitters mix.
Add a “fine” quality Champagne and stir.
Float a slice of thin orange on top.
This is what Ilsa and Victor Laszlo sipped in Casablanca.

“Too much of anything is bad, but too much Champagne is just right.”
-Mark Twain

As always, our party hearty friends at Food52 have some delightful ideas for nibbles to help soak up some of the bubbly we are sure to be drinking on New Year’s Eve.
9 Bites to Go with Your Bubbly

This is very pretty, and so seasonal:
Pomegranate Mimosas. Yumsters.

“My only regret in life is that I didn’t drink enough Champagne”
-John Maynard Keynes

And the best of both worlds: a Black Velvet!
Champagne and Guinness. This drink is simply equal parts stout and sparkling wine, and to be honest, there are some who will never understand its appeal. But to fans, this is a perfect special-occasion drink, particularly suited to mornings and late afternoons.

Black Velvet
4 ounces (1/2 cup) chilled Champagne or Prosecco
4 ounces (1/2 cup) chilled Guinness Extra Stout

Pour the Champagne into a tall glass. This is not an effete drink. It is robust, and fills your hand with determination. Be sure to pour the Guinness on top. (This is important: Guinness is heavier. If you pour the sparkling wine second, it won’t combine evenly, and will need to be stirred. I shudder at the thought!)

Enjoy yourself this weekend. Happy New Year! Find a good movie. Let the games begin, again, on Tuesday.

“Isn’t it amazing… how a full bottle of wine isn’t enough for two people any more?”
–John Updike

Welcome to the messy and cozy world of holiday cooking. We are getting ready for Christmas and an unaccustomed houseful of folks. I hope they are hungry.

On this chilly day the toasty warm Spy Test Kitchens are littered with a colorful mix of containers of broth, cans of tomatoes, cans of beans, oranges, cloves, a fragrant chunk of Parmigiano Reggiano cheese, a sack of all-purpose flour, a bag of white sugar, cutting boards, kitchen shears, ladles, and a melon baller. Currently in use: a Dutch oven, a frying pan, the oven, and a cheese grater. I do not know how I will react if I hear Mariah Carey belting out “All I Want for Christmas” one more time today.

Yesterday I made a batch of sausage balls, planning for Christmas morning, because we will all have better things to unwrap and play with Monday morning. This way no one needs to steal away to the kitchen to make breakfast. Just coffee.

Later this afternoon I will also be prepping a batch of brioche cinnamon rolls, for the sweeter-toothed among us. I’ll be mixing up the dough, rolling and cutting it, and then stashing it away in the freezer, which is burgeoning with hopes and fears. On Sunday night I’ve got to remember to take the dough out and tuck it away in a warm corner to rise overnight.

Mr. Sanders is methodically plowing through an old print version of Epicurious magazine as he plans dinners for Saturday and Monday nights. The magazine is festooned with multi-colored and festive Post-Its. There also his legal pad, filled with lists, which he keeps checking. Now he is weighing and measuring tomatoes, carrots, ground beef, Italian sausage meat, while reducing liquids, stirring, tasting and improvising. He has built an impressive stack of cans of San Marzano tomatoes which will become, as the afternoon wears on, an Italian Wedding Soup.

We have some Christmas traditions food-wise. Most of our traditions come from our favorite cookbooks and a pile of vintage Gourmet, Epicurious, New York Times Sunday magazines. (Print lives on in our house.)

New this year: Italian Wedding Soup
Epicurious Italy, September 2014

Reliable Eggnog
From Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything

Makes 4 servings
Time: 10 minutes
3 eggs, separated
2 tablespoons sugar, or to taste
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
3 cups milk or half-and-half
1/2 cup rum (optional), or more if desired
Freshly grated nutmeg to taste
1. Beat the egg yolks with the sugar until well blended. Stir in the vanilla, the milk or half-and-half, and rum if desired.
2. Beat the egg whites and fold them in thoroughly. (You need not be too gentle; they should lighten the drink but not be discernible.)
Top with freshly grated nutmeg and serve.

Christmas Breakfast Frittata

From The Joy of Cooking

Serves 6 hungry people
Preheat the oven to 375 °F.
Heat a large skillet over medium heat and add:
3 to 5 slices bacon, cut into 1/4-inch wide strips (or, use sausage, ham, Canadian bacon, etc.–with cured meats such as ham, there is no need to sauté)
Sauté until the fat has rendered and the bacon is crispy.
Remove the bacon to a paper towel-lined plate.
Drain off all but 2 tablespoons bacon fat and add to the skillet:
1 small onion, finely chopped (or a few minced shallots, or green onions, etc.)
Sauté until translucent.
Add and sauté until fragrant, about 2 minutes:
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves
1 teaspoon fresh oregano, minced
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes

Remove from the heat and add salt and pepper to taste.
In a large bowl, combine:
12 eggs
3/4 cup whole milk, buttermilk, or half-and-half
Cheese, in some form, in whatever quantity you prefer (I used leftover cheese bits to equal about 1/2 cup)

• Combine the vegetable mixture and the egg mixture and pour into a greased 9 X 13-inch pan.
• Bake until set, about 30 minutes.
• Turn on the broiler and broil until nicely browned and slightly puffy on top, about 5 minutes.

Frittata

Our Sausage Ball recipe comes from Paula Deen: Forget about the dip, though. We just eat them plain, and you should, too.

Christmas Dessert

Flourless Chocolate Cake

From Lee Bailey’s Country Desserts

5 ounces bittersweet chocolate
3 ounces unsweetened chocolate
1 stick of butter, softened
5 large eggs, separated
2/3 cup sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons of pure vanilla extract
Pinch of salt
Preheat the oven to 350°F.
Line a springform pan with parchment paper – it is never pretty. Like hospital corners on the bed, I can never do this tidily.

• Melt the chocolate and butter together in a pan, over a low heat, stirring to blend. Be careful not to rush this process! Set aside to cool.
• Beat the egg yolks with the sugar until thick and pale yellow in color. This can take up to 5 or 6 minutes. Add the vanilla.
• Clean the beaters, and now whip the egg white with the salt until they are stiff.
• Fold the chocolate mixture into the yolks, then fold in about one third of the egg white, mix gently. Then fold in the rest of the whites, mixing until there are no more white streaks.
• Pour the mixture into the springform pan and bake for about 35 to 45 minutes, test with a toothpick to be sure cake is done. The cake will rise gloriously while baking, and suddenly crash and collapse when you take it out of the oven. Do not worry about this! It will be deliciously and deliriously luscious.
• Cool the cake for about 10 or 15 minutes and then remove the side of the pan. Flip the cake onto a cooling rack. Remove the bottom of the pan and the parchment. Let it cool completely before adding the glaze.

You cannot change one speck of this magic chocolate glaze! I have been using this glaze since 1989. The cookbook always falls open to this page, which is also the glaze I use for Flourless Chocolate Cake. It is covered with crumbs and splatters from the festivities from the last 34 years.

3 ounces semisweet chocolate
3 ounces unsalted butter, softened
1 tablespoon brandy or bourbon
Melt the chocolate and butter together over a low heat, stirring until smooth. Stir in the brandy. Pour over the top of the cooled cake, smoothing with a spatula, and let it drip down the sides.

Merry Christmas from the Spy Test Kitchen Elves!

“There is nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child. … Time, self-pity, apathy, bitterness, and exhaustion can take the Christmas out of the child, but you cannot take the child out of Christmas.”
-Erma Bombeck

Chances are that we’ll be entertaining folks this year instead of anxiously eyeing one another. We aren’t quite so worried about COVID, which is a relief, plus Mr. Sanders and I got the latest vaccine last week. My arm is still sore, though, as I think about the next few weeks, wondering what goodies I should be squirreling away, in preparation for the holidays. I’m looking forward to a couple of friendly get-togethers, when we can share a little food and wine with folks we haven’t talked with, except over for over-the-fence chats, for ages.

The Washington Post had an amusing article about a contest in the UK this week: the winner takes home a turkey-sized Swedish meatball from IKEA. The mind boggles at the thought of a 10-pound meatball. I wish we could enter the contest! The Post thoughtfully included the recipe for homemade Swedish meatballs that IKEA supplied to its biggest fans of the tasty dish, which they were unable to enjoy in situ during the pandemic lockdown. IKEA Swedish Meatballs I’m going to make a batch. I think having a Rubbermaid container of meatballs in the freezer will be an excellent idea. I love being prepared. Enjoy! IKEA Meatball

We have neighbors who might stop by for drinks during the holiday season. He is a genial, chatty fellow, who enjoys his riding mower; she is vegan, and eschews gluten and sugar and loves decorating for Halloween. Luckily, she does drink. We’ll give her a glass of fizz and a bowl of wholesome sticks and twigs, and he’ll Hoover up some beers and the homemade Chex Mix (from a super-secret family recipe), iced Christmas sugar cookies, and now, some of those homemade IKEA meatballs.

Chex Mix

INGREDIENTS – a mere guideline of suggestions
3 cups Corn Chex™ cereal
3 cups Rice Chex™ cereal
3 cups Wheat Chex™ cereal
1 cup mixed nuts
1 cup bite-size pretzels
6 tablespoons butter or margarine
2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
1 1/2 teaspoons seasoned salt
3/4 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
Pre-heat oven to 250°F. Put cereal and seasoning mixture into ungreased roasting pan and bake for 1 hour, stirring every 15 minutes. Spread on paper towels to cool, about 15 minutes.

Our Substitutions: we use 1 whole stick of butter goodness. We do not stick to the standard Chex ingredients, instead we use 2 cups of peanuts, 2 cups of thin pretzel sticks, 2 cups of Bugles (which are the best addition EVER), 3 cups of Honey Nut Chex or Cheerios and 2 cups of Goldfish. Also we use a lot of Lawry’s Seasoning Salt. You might like to add some Old Bay seasoning. Deelish!

Other neighbors who might wander over don’t drink, but do love homemade sweets. Out will come the Annual-Never-Fail-Christmas-Fudge I make to the delight of our dentist, the letter carrier and our favorite UPS delivery guys. This is also a super-secret family recipe: Christmas Fudge

If you stop by at cocktail hour any other time of the year you would lucky if I managed to find a box of fresh Triscuits in the pantry, a block of cheddar cheese, and some pepperoni in the fridge. Around Christmas, though, I try to be more pro-active, and warehouse a decent stock of nibbles: olives, almonds, walnuts, pecans, fancy Pepperidge Farm crackers, nice, runny, fragrant cheeses, grapes, apricots, grainy mustards, and charcuterie-type meats: salami, speck, prosciutto, and, of course, pepperoni. Spare me the precious charcuterie board, however. I have tiny china plates and little silver bowls, with spoons, that come out but once a year, and I am determined to use them. If you call ahead, I will even iron some pretentious linen cocktail napkins for you.

I like a warm nibble or two at a cocktail soirée, don’t you? I especially love brushing exploded puff-pastry off the front of my hostess-y outfit. Our son and his wife will be here for a few days, so we will have to have a stash of nostalgic pigs-in-blankets, some of those IKEA meatballs, bruschetta, and warm ham biscuits. Nothing fancy, just foods that can be scarfed down in an instant, and will delight Luke the wonder dog when bits fall to the floor. It’s Christmas for the dog, too.

Pigs in Blankets

Bruschetta:
Cut a baguette into slices (I like cutting the bread a diagonal)
Toast the slices under the broiler until golden brown
Allow slices to cool
Rub each slice with a big chunk o’garlic
Drizzle each slice with olive oil
Scatter a few basil leaves on the toasted, oiled and garlicky bread
Chop up a couple of the nice fat heirloom tomatoes
Scatter the tomatoes over the basil
Top with crumbled feta cheese
Pop the bread back under the broiler until the cheese sizzles
Voilа!

Fancy Ham Biscuits

Go get your COVID shot so you have something to complain about while you finally decorate your Christmas tree. And then start to enjoy yourself. Even if no one is coming over, have a handful of Chex Mix and a bowl of cheer. Give an angel some wings.

“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.”
― Edith Sitwell

Sweets to the sweet. Other food sites are touting the Puritan virtues of warm, homemade soup this week. The Washington Post is pushing ruffage and turnips, for heaven’s sake. Not us. The Spy is all about embracing culture and joy; food and warmth. This week is the perfect time to celebrate Hanukkah with some delicious homemade doughnuts.

Every fall I try to make earnest cider doughnuts; to briskly turn the page on summer and embrace the autumnal – basically I pretend that I have just picked apples and returned home from a hay ride. Which is nonsense. I once picked crabapples in the Hammett’s back yard on Leonard Street, which I promptly ate, and I have never once gone on a hay ride. What I do remember is sleeping over at Sheila’s house in middle school, and her saintly father trudging out for fresh doughnuts for us girls on Sunday mornings. He brought back boxes of freshly glazed doughnuts, crunchy with sheets of sugar. And cloud-like jelly doughnuts, adrift with billows of confectioners sugar. Ah, bliss.

What are ritual foods if they don’t make us time travel to happy moments? Much has been written about the chic and delicate French Madeleines, but what about the humble jelly doughnut? Every one of us who has ever eaten a jelly doughnut can remember oozed jelly on our shirtfronts – not exactly transformational. Jelly doughnuts are the cosmic pratfall of sweets compared to the Madeleine – not the stuff of French literature. The Madeleine moment, as evoked by the taste of a delicate cake-like cookie, is fleeting. Jelly doughnuts bring to mind an entire holiday. It is a raucous family celebration. Jelly doughnuts cover us with joy.

During the Civil War the ladies of Augusta, Maine sent soldiers of the Third Volunteer Regiment off to war with a feast of fifty bushels of doughnuts, as was breathlessly reported: “Never before was such an aggregate of doughnuts since the world began. … The display of doughnuts beggared description. There was the molasses doughnut and the sugar doughnut – the long doughnut and the short doughnut – the round doughnut and the square doughnut … the straight solid doughnut and the circular doughnut, with a hole in the centre. … It was emphatically a feast of doughnuts, if not a flow of soul.”

Fried dough has been around forever. Every culture has experimented with shapes and flavors and methodology. Doughnuts arrived in New Amsterdam in the form of “oily cakes”, courtesy of the Dutch settlers. Later, a ship captain’s mother made deep-fried dough cakes, which could be stored for a long voyages, and she flavored them with cinnamon, lemon rind and nutmeg. She added nuts to the center of the cakes, dough nuts. Her son, the sea captain, claimed to have invented the doughnut hole; they were a busy, innovative pair. Today, in the United States alone, about 10 billion doughnuts are made every year. Wowser.

Here is an amusing video about fried dough and doughnuts: Doughnut History

Popular traditional foods for Hanukkah are brisket, latkes, kugel and jelly doughnuts, or sufganiyot. The doughnuts help us to remember the miracle of the oil that burned miraculously for eight nights. Today, Hanukkah celebrations feature both commercial and homemade jelly doughnuts — tributes to that single cruse of oil that lasted eight days. What a miracle!

Give me a good store-bought doughnut. I love watching doughnuts being made, don’t you? There is comfort in driving through a town and seeing a HOT NOW light on in a store front window. But I can’t serve Krispy Kreme doughnuts for the holidays. I can only scarf them down on road trips. Luckily, once again, I have fallen in love with fantastic Instagram reel and will be making my own: Homemade Jelly Doughnuts I hope you do, too!

Happy Hanukkah!

“Donuts! Is there anything they can’t do?”
–Homer Simpson

This is the final countdown to Thanksgiving. Six days to go! I went to the grocery store yesterday, just to get some milk, and was practically trampled by stressed-out shoppers with carts full of turkeys, aluminum pans and stacks of canned green beans and pumpkin purée. Here are a couple of things to remember:

Make your pie dough now. Melissa Clark’s All-butter Pie Crust recipe keeps in the freezer for three months; defrost it in the fridge overnight before you need to bake.

After writing out your Thanksgiving menu, divide your grocery list into perishables and non-perishables. Get those non-perishables this weekend, if you can! Join the stressed-out folks at your grocery store!

This is one of my favorite cautionary tales of Thanksgiving. I have since learned to keep it simple. Don’t promise to deliver a dish to the feast if you haven’t made it before. It is perfectly fine to buy items to bring – time is short and we have enough demands on our already-fraying nerves. We are not Martha, and we do not have a staff. And not everything is made to be photographed, Instagrammed or put on Threads. Life is messy. Got it?

I lived in London the year after I was graduated from Washington College, with another WC alum and one of her childhood chums. We were sight-seeing by day, and waitressing in Covent Garden restaurants by night. It was the end of the 70s, and there were Mohawks galore, and cute punky girls wearing Doc Martens, sporting safety pin jewels.

We had been invited to a posh Thanksgiving dinner and were responsible for bringing a dish to share. Our assignment, as the token Americans, was to bring scalloped potatoes. That seemed simple enough. But we were kitchen novices. Our spaghetti sauce had sent boys with potential scurrying from our flat – because we thought chopped onions were an excellent thickener for the runny tomato sauce. Fully aware of our limitations, and these being the olden days before the Internet and smart phones, we set off to the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea’s library, in search of a helpful cookbook. At least we were smart enough to have library cards.

We hauled the weighty Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Cookery and Household Management back to our flat to do our research. Mrs. Beeton’s book, unlike many of Nigella’s or Ina Garten’s friendly and photo-heavy volumes today, was complicated and bewildering to us. Illustrations? Few and far between. Breadcrumbs? Bechamel sauce? Grams instead of cups? And the cooking times were distressingly vague, too. 1 1/2 to 2 hours? That could make the difference between half raw potatoes and a dishful of burnt glue!

After thumbing through the book we finally realized that Mrs. Beeton did not have an easy-to-follow recipe for scalloped potatoes. We were left to our own devices; young women who thought chopped onions were the salvation for watery spaghetti sauce have no business trying to invent scalloped potatoes. We didn’t even have a potato peeler! We hacked the raw potatoes into hunks, covered them with ropes of processed gloopy cheese, and too much milk, and shoved them in our tiny oven. Our scalloped potatoes were a lumpy, sloshing mess.

We somehow transported the now-cooled baking dish (where did we ever find one?) on our knees on the Tube ride to Chiswick. Once we had arrived and said our hellos, we warmed the potatoes up it an intimidating Aga range, which did nothing to improve the potatoes’ appearance. Those sad-looking, gray potatoes were inedible. We were not sure of the etiquette for this situation. Our dish remained untouched by the discerning Brits who were already suspicious of anything American: particularly loud young American women who perhaps drank a bit too much of the Beaujolais Nouveau… Our hearts were in the right place, though, and we helped with the washing up, before retiring to drink port and smoke cigars with the former RAF pilots, who were telling the best stories we had ever heard.

The lesson here: if asked to bring something specific and complicated for Thanksgiving, and you are pressed for time, see what your grocery store or bakery has to offer. You might be surprised. Otherwise keep it simple. Or avail yourself of internet videos. Scalloped Potatoes It is amazing what you can find these days. “Dear Mrs. Butler, I hope it is not too late to apologize for the scalloped potatoes we brought to your very nice dinner party. Thanks again for inviting us.”

The garlic is a lovely, unexpected flavor with the creamy potatoes. And the layers of grated Gruyere melt in a divine fashion; the cheese was evident in every bite. The RAF chaps would have enjoyed these potatoes.

Good luck with your Thanksgiving planning, lists, travel and cooking. We will be having old-fashioned, lumpy mashed potatoes once again this year, but we will be enjoying a very fancy, store-bought chocolate pie. I can’t wait!

“The more we peeled, the more peel there seemed to be left on; by the time we had got all the peel off and all the eyes out, there was no potato left – at least none worth speaking of.”

― Jerome K. Jerome

After this past week of unseasonable warm fall weather it might actually be time to put away the shorts and flip flops, close the windows, find the wool sweaters, and think about a few meals before we get caught up in the confusion and mayhem of planning Thanksgiving cooking. Let’s say farewell to cole slaw, and hello to warm, braised cabbage.

Cabbage is cheap, and packed with nutrition, as well as being versatile. The last cabbage I pulled out from the heap weighed 4 pounds, and was just brimming over with meal potential. You can easily spice up your weekly menu without spending lots of money. And cabbage doesn’t have to be just the stinky accompaniment to corned beef once a year; there are lots of new and enticing ways to prepare it. I’ll bet you that right this minute someone in Brooklyn is experimenting with an artisanal bespoke organic cabbage smoothie cocktail, infused with saffron and CBD.

When winter rolls around we tend to think of oven-baked meals as a way to keep the kitchen cozy and our roll-poly bellies full. Whenever we cook pork chops I reflexively think of cole slaw and apple sauce as good side dishes. Samsin Nosrat (Of Salt Fat Acid Heat fame.) has a better idea than my mother’s 1950’s Hellmann’s mayonnaise-inspired slaw dish. You should try this: Samin Nosrat’s Bright Cabbage Slaw. It incorporates cabbage and apples, without the fat and calories of mayonnaise. It is a bright treat on a dark winter night. You can pretend you are in California.

Nigella’s Sweet and Sour Slaw is a little more time consuming – it might be perfect for a Saturday night meal, and it is quite festive and deelish.

Now you can take your new knife skills and try something fun for Taco Tuesday: Not Your Traditional Korean Tacos. Our friends at Food52 always have a tasty and clever solution for dinner, and these fresh Korean tacos will set you apart from the sodium-laden Old El Paso-recipe dependent households.

A more sophisticated take on cabbage and wraps comes from Bon Appétit: One-Skillet Hot Sausage and Cabbage Stir-Fry with Chives. Mr. Sanders is always buying Italian sausage, and we wind up using it repeatedly for sausage and peppers, or as pizza topping. This adds another meal to our burgeoning repertoire for winter 2024.

And where would we be in the midst of a gelid winter without an easy peasy every-thing-is-in-the-kitchen-already recipe? I love recipes where everything is already on hand; in the fridge, in the pantry, in the larder, ready to roll: Pasta with Cabbage, Winter Squash and Walnuts. We’ve got plenty of walnuts on hand for brownies, and Thanksgiving emergencies. No need to go out.

Cabbage probably won’t ever be the flashy media darling that kale was, but it is dependable. Like an old friend, or an old pair of jeans. You remember it fondly and it soothes your soul. The Washington Post food section has this nice, warming cabbage dish for you: Roasted Cabbage Bowls with Quinoa and Soft-boiled Eggs

Next week we will finally talk about Thanksgiving. Get ready!

“‘The time has come,’ the Walrus said,
      To talk of many things:
Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —
      Of cabbages — and kings —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
      And whether pigs have wings.’”
—Lewis Carroll

We have almost had our first frost of the season. It is barely November, and Mr. Sanders, in anticipation of a predicted frost warning for our area early this morning, turned on the heat last night, to much mocking from this former New Englander. All he needed to do was huddle around the kitchen stove, and he would have warmed up quickly from our afternoon walk with Luke the wonder dog.

It is sweater weather again, finally, but it is still a refreshing novelty; we aren’t battling the elements just yet. It’s fun to rummage around in the closet for some old friends; the best sweaters are the most raggedy, pilled and stretched out. I am wearing a ratty old black wool pullover that I bought deeply discounted from a sales pile at a Gap in West Palm Beach at least 10 years ago. Its elbows are worn and translucent, but if I wear a black turtleneck, no one else notices. It is perfect for work and wearing to the Y. I also just found the Bean cardigan from college that miraculously still fits. I might just be buried in it.

Equally serviceable, and just as humble, is a sheet pan dinner. Rummage in the fridge and see what you have got. Or better yet, make a plan at the beginning of the week, for tasty items that can roast themselves for your warming dinner. No fuss and easy to clean up, sheet pan meals will keep you nice and warm until it it time to bring out the big guns: the roasts, the casseroles, the pot pies, the stews and the slow cooker meals.

I love parchment paper, which is a life saver for me for almost every meal. I keep a box of pre-cut sheet-pan-sized sheets in the cookie sheet, cutting board cabinet, right next to the stove. Some sheet pan recipes call for preheating the oven, and the pan, to 500°F or 450°F. Read your recipes carefully, so you don’t start a home fire. Thanks to an excellent liberal arts education, and Ray Bradbury, I will forever be mindful that paper ignites at 451°. And everyone’s oven is different – so be careful! (The Spy and I do NOT receive any compensation from Amazon, but this is a miraculous cooking item that I love: Parchment Paper Sheets )

Our household gods at Food52 have some practical advice for making sure your sheet pan chicken is extra tasty and browned attractively – baking powder. They suggest rubbing a “mixture of baking powder, salt, and other seasonings all over the chicken to promote browning and crispier skin.” Good to know. Sheet Pan Chicken with Broccoli, Chickpeas and Parmesan.

Food52 also has an excellent way to prepare pork chops. Sheet-Pan Pork Chops & Vegetables With Parsley Vinaigrette These tasty pork chops will make you appreciate the changing seasons.

Dorie Greenspan proves my point that you can never have too many chicken recipes: Balsamic Chicken Sheet Pan Supper And she understands that some of us prefer breasts to the ever-popular chicken legs or thighs.

We cook a lot of Italian sausage with onions and peppers on the stove top, which inevitable creates a huge delicious mess with all the splattering and sputtering. Maybe this will be an easier way to go, since the inside of our over is already coated with scorched corn meal and charred cheese drips from our weekly pizza creations. Sheet Pan Sausage and Peppers Add a salad, some focaccia, and a little red wine. Yumsters!

Sometimes we like eggs for dinner. Or for a hearty, holiday breadfast, one that will keep you going until the Thanksgiving dinner is finally on the table. Easy Sheet Pan Baked Eggs And Vegetables Eggs and Veggies

Enjoy the transition into the cooler weather. And be sure to turn your clocks back on Saturday night!

“I ate them like salad, books were my sandwich for lunch, my tiffin and dinner and midnight munch. I tore out the pages, ate them with salt, doused them with relish, gnawed on the bindings, turned the chapters with my tongue! Books by the dozen, the score and the billion. I carried so many home I was hunchbacked for years. Philosophy, art history, politics, social science, the poem, the essay, the grandiose play, you name ’em, I ate ’em.”
― Ray Bradbury