Cookery Maven Blog

Grilled Corn & Crema Mexicana

What could possibly make the Corn Man's sweet corn even better? Crema mexicana and queso fresco, that's what. My brother, Tom, has turned me on to lots of things: oysters at the Oceanaire, good music, MAC knives and now, crema mexicana with chipotle power. Brushing grilled corn with spiced crema and coating it with queso fresco is my new favorite thing.

Spiced Crema Mexicana & Queso Fresco

1/2 cup crema mexicana (I used Cacique) 1/2 tsp chipotle powder 1/2 tsp Tajin Classico Seasoning 1/4 cup cilantro, chopped 1/2 cup ques0 fresco, crumbled salt and pepper to taste

Mix everything but the queso fresco in bowl until combined. Add salt and/or pepper if necessary. Brush crema on corn immediately after it comes off the grill and sprinkle queso on all sides of the corn.

My Garden In Full Bloom

Help us to be ever faithful gardeners of the spirit, who know that without darkness nothing comes to birth, and without light nothing flowers.

May Sarton

My garden had a good run this year— enough rain and sun to keep the flowers blooming and the bugs and powdery mildew at bay. The quackgrass had a good summer as well. I'm constantly fighting the invasion but nothing gives me greater satisfaction than pulling a piece of grass and getting ALL the root with it. Immediate gratification.

Hydrangea, Echinacea and roses— the backbone of my garden. I wonder if they know how much I appreciate their stalwart display of flowers and foliage each summer?

One of my Love and Peace roses. I planted four bushes when we bought the house 5 years ago and they've survived every winter and bloomed like champions every summer.

The dogs were in the garden with me. Running through the garden (George), chasing butterflies (Gus), relaxing (Henry) or digging (Seamus). I was taking a picture of the hydrangea and felt a slimy tennis ball drop in my lap. I turned around and saw this face. I think he was smiling.

A Week With Katie

Labor Day has come an gone (almost, we have another couple of hours left of 'official' summer). Every summer seems to fly by but this one had wings; I can't believe the kids start school tomorrow. I have been on a bloggery hiatus and thought a little taste of what summer looks on Lake Superior would make a good re-entry into your good graces. My sister, Katie, and her family came to visit in July and we had a lovely time— the pool on Madeline Island, Presque Isle Bay on Stockton, and dinners at the Pub and in my kitchen.

Katie celebrated a birthday that ends in a zero during the week (not sure how sensitive she is about her age and since she looks like she is 18, I will let you guess what birthday it was). We had a big table at the Pub, filled with the loud laughter and chatter that Dougherty's and Hollerman's are particularly gifted with. I love living in Bayfield but I treasure every minute I have with my family when they make that four hour drive North to visit.

We went to Presque Isle Bay on Stockton and spent the day with lots of sun, warmish water and no flies. We ate, played cards, built sand castles and swam. As we headed back to the boat, I said a prayer of gratitude— for my family, for the memories we are giving our children and for the lake that was the backdrop for a perfect summer afternoon.

I am the oldest of seven kids and my parents drilled 'family first' into our heads from the beginning. In fact, one of my Dad's favorite sayings was 'how can two countries get along if two sisters can't?'. It was unbelievably annoying to hear that little ditty when we were in the midst of World War 3 over who took my jeans or didn't empty the dishwasher but I am glad he never failed to utter it. As an adult, I am blessed to have four amazing sisters (and one sister-in-law) in my life who know my whole story and love me because (or in spite) of it. The week with Katie, Dan, Mollie and Jimmy was one of the sweetest weeks of the summer. Sweet because we added ferry and boat rides, Sadie and the attack of the Mama duck, singing Happy Birthday at the Pub, jumping off the boat and Mollie's posh air mattress to our family story.

Why I Love August

There are lots of reasons why I love August: fireflies, gardens in full bloom, summer vacation and the farmer's market. Bayfield has a farmer's market every Saturday from 8:45 to Noon and it has become a Saturday ritual for me. I grab my tote bag and whatever kid is awake and we head down the hill. Yesterday was tomato heaven, I bought every shape, size and color I could get my hands on. Sliced tomato with Maldon sea salt and good balsamic vinegar tastes like August and I look forward to my first bite every year.

Summer, Meghan & A Lemonade Stand

Meg and Summer decided to have a lemonade stand outside of Kelly & Crew yesterday. I am not sure who hatched the plan but Kelly was on top of it— sandwich board, balloons and all. Meg was super excited to have the stand downtown. She had a lemonade stand at the end of our driveway a month ago and our neighbor, Martha, was her one and only customer. Going to Kelly's was the 'big time' as far as she was concerned.

The Candy Shoppe was the recipient of most of the proceeds, I think they each had two ice cream cones over the course of the afternoon. When I stopped by, there a sign on the table saying they were at the Candy Shoppe and would return soon. I heard them laughing a half a block a way, ice cream in hand and gigantic grins on their faces. They also raised 10.00 for the animal shelter— talk about two girls after my own heart.

I Wonder If Emmylou Likes Cobb Salad??

A long time ago, when I was in my early thirties, I bought a Lilith Fair CD and heard a duet with Sarah McLachan and Emmylou Harris. I was blown away by her voice. Now that I am decidedly in my forties, I still listen to Emmylou and was excited to see her at Chatauqua this summer. However, dinner before Big Top concerts always present a challenge for me— we have to be in the car on our way to the hill by 7:30ish. This is a problem for me, my meals like to hit the table about 8:30 or so. Salads are about the only thing I have a half a chance to get on the table before we have to leave.

The other Maven, Arthur Schwartz, has the original Cobb salad dressing recipe from the Brown Derby, along with the history of this illustrious salad, on his website. According to Arthur, Bob Cobb, the owner of the Brown Derby, was hungry late one night after service and went through his walk-in refrigerator looking for something to eat. The funny thing about a restaurant kitchen is there is very little to grab and eat late at night and the last thing anyone wants to do is turn on the oven or start a fire in the grill after everything is cleaned up. Another funny thing is that if you are in the kitchen looking for something to eat late at night, you are definitely not thinking about lettuce. I bet this is why the Cobb salad bears very little resemblance to a healthy and virtuous salad. Bob had been working all night and he wanted something that would stick to his bones. Adding bacon, cheese, avocado, hard-boiled eggs and potatoes to a pile of greens makes perfect sense to me.

I made two changes to Arthur's recipe— I substituted arugula for the watercress and chicory and I tossed the potatoes, while they were still warm, with olive oil, Maldon sea salt and chopped preserved lemons. Otherwise, I stuck to the recipe and it was perfect. I bet Emmylou would like my Cobb salad.

Emmylou was great—she has a magnificent soulful voice and is an amazing guitarist. I kept watching her hands, flying up and down her guitar, and thinking about all the life they have seen and the music they have made. Seems like a fairly innocent observation, right? Well, we had the opportunity to meet her after the show and I blurted out, 'I love your hands'. She looked at me like I was either nuts or had a hand fetish. I continued shoving my foot down my throat and mumbled something about her hands having beautiful life in them and that was that. She graciously agreed to take a picture with me and I decided to have a few rational and witty talking points next time I meet a musical legend.

Garlic From The Market & Flowers From The Garden

In between washing the sheets, getting ready to cater two weddings, making a feeble attempt at cleaning the kitchen and mentally preparing myself to tend bar on a Saturday night— I had a little fun. Sadie and I went to the farmers market in Bayfield and there it was— heaps and piles of garlic. To say I have a thing for fresh garlic would be putting it mildly. I love, love, love fresh garlic and celebrate my love every chance I can when it is season. I practiced a little restraint yesterday and only bought a dozen or so cloves. Next weekend, I am going big— vampires beware.

My friend Jill, a self-professed Garlic Pig, loves garlic as well. She's a gardener extraordinaire and has a garden full of garlicky goodness. Scapes and cloves— the benefits of growing your own are endless. It was her birthday yesterday and I went to the garden to pick my first bouquet of the summer for her gift. I knew she didn't need garlic but flowers and wine seemed like a decent idea. I cut extra flowers and made a bouquet for myself to keep in the kitchen. As I walked in the house last night at 11 pm, tired and thankful to be home, there it was— flower love from my garden. I went to bed happy.

A Totem Pole Raising (or Re-Raising)

There was a minor set back when Ted was cutting down an old birch in the front yard. The totem pole was in the wrong place at the wrong time and the birch took it out. It spent a few months reclining in the yard, waiting for the day it would stand tall again. Being a lumberjack is hard work (at least that's Ted's story and he is sticking to it).

Ted called the man who put the pole up five years ago, I can't imagine how that phone call went. I doubt he has to re-raise many 20 foot totem poles. We bought it from Bill Vienneaux, a wood-carver in Washburn, and it's the only 20 foot totem pole he has made (so far). There were two spots open on the pole when we bought it and he carved the flying pig and the bear reading the book for us.

I remember the day it went up (the first time) in the summer of 2007. I had just finished putting in the flower garden, Guinness was at my side and Meghan was in Ted's arms. Time has flown by. We bought it as an homage to Ted's Dad. Frank passed away two weeks after we bought our house and he is buried in the Bayfield cemetery. We wanted to do something to honor the man we adored and missed terribly; I know he would have been pleased.

Frank and I had a lot in common: reading, love of food, the New Yorker and pigs. Maybe it was the Irish in us, pigs are considered good luck charms in Ireland. When Anne and Frank moved to Alabama, they asked what I would like from the cabin. I knew right away— the white pig, Horatio, that sat outside their door. It was fitting we put a pig with wings (and a smile on his face) on the totem pole.

I raised a glass to Frank after the totem pole was securely back in place. He saw the woman I was going to become before I even knew she existed. He gave me Anne Morrow Lindbergh's book, A Gift From The Sea, for Christmas when I was nineteen and just starting to find my way. I miss his unflagging love and loyalty, he was a helluva guy. The 2006 Coudoulet de Beascastel was the perfect wine to drink that afternoon— bittersweet cocoa, dried figs and black cherry. I was happy to see the totem pole upright but I was missing the man who inspired it.

Summer Strawberry, Chicken & Avocado Salad

Strawberry season in Bayfield is over but it was fun while it lasted. We ate strawberries all day long— smoothies, shortcakes, layered between angel food cake, on waffles and in salads. It was utter strawberry madness at the Dougherty's for two weeks in June. Bayfield is the perfect place to live if you like berries— strawberries, raspberries and blueberries are plentiful and my kids gobble them up with abandon.

Salads are a good idea when it is 150 degrees outside and you live in a 100-year-old home without air conditioning. Ted rounded up a couple window units a few weeks ago and now my dinner repertoire includes judicious use of the oven. However, when the house was a sauna, we ate a lot of salads and grilled outside.

Don't you love it when you go to the grocery store and find perfectly ripe avocados? This salad was the fortuitous result of ripe avocados from Andy's, a surplus of strawberries in the fridge and my new favorite spice, Tajin. My friend, Kathy, turned me onto Tajin (a lime and chile salt from Mexico) this spring. She used it in her jalapeño margarita (also known as the Kaboom Margarita at Good Thyme) and I was smitten at first taste. In homage to Kathy's margaritas, I marinated the chicken in tequila, lime and Tajin— it was a seriously good idea.

 Summer Salad with Strawberries, Chicken and Avocado

Marinade

1/2 cup freshly squeezed lime juice

1/4 cup tequila

1/4 cup olive oil

4 garlic cloves, minced

4 tbsp Tajin Classico Seasoning

Salad

8 chicken thighs, skin on and bone in

2 avocados, sliced

2 cups strawberries, sliced

1/2 red onion, sliced

1/2 cup feta (can substitute quesco fresco), crumbled

6 cups romaine, chopped

Cilantro Lime Salad Dressing

2 garlic cloves, minced

1 cup cilantro, chopped

2 tsp Tajin Classico Seasoning

1/4 orange juice

1/2 cup lime juice, freshly squeezed

3/4 cup olive oil

Salt and pepper to taste

Preparation

Mix together all ingredients in the marinade, place in a non reactive bowl, add chicken and marinate, refrigerated, for 4 - 6 hours. Prepare the grill and remove the chicken breasts from the marinade. Grill the thighs skin-side down for about 5 minutes, until nicely browned. Turn the chicken and cook for another 10 minutes, until just cooked through. Remove from the grill to a plate. Cover tightly and allow to rest while you prepare the salad.

Place all salad dressing ingredients, except olive oil, in a food processor or blender and combine. Slowly add olive oil until the dressing is emulsified. Taste and add salt and pepper, if necessary.

After the chicken has rested, remove the meat from the bones and set aside. Place romaine, strawberries, avocado, chicken and feta in a large bowl, add salad dressing, toss to combine and serve.  

My Garden In June

We put in a flower garden when we bought our house in 2007 and I had no idea what I was doing, planting or weeding. I was new to the gardening game and had a steep learning curve. I planted all sorts of things and hoped for the best. Not everything survived my Darwinian approach to gardening but what survived is thriving and gives me immeasurable joy.

May Sarton said, 'Everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help. Gardening is an instrument of grace.' I get on my knees in the dirt, tend to my flowers and pull weeds while the dogs wait nearby. There is something so satisfying about pulling grass out of the garden and getting every inch of root out with it.

It's starting— the flowers are beginning to wake up and the garden is taking shape. Looking outside my window makes me smile.

The sound of visiting bees gives me joy; I like to think they love the garden as much as I do.

Pink and orange— one of my absolute favorite color combinations.

Guinness, our Newfie, was my faithful gardening companion. He would sit outside the garden and wait for me to finish my chores. Thankfully, Seamus picked up the torch after Guinness passed and now all the dogs hang out with me while I weed.

Trampled By Turtles At The Tent

Summer of 2012 is off to a spectacular start. We went to see Trampled By Turtles at Big Top Chautauqua and it was one of the best live shows I have ever seen. Our friends, Bob and Kelly, sponsored the show— we met the band and had front row seats. I was serious about the summer of 2012, it's poised for greatness. Bluegrass played under a tent at my favorite ski hill made for a night I won't soon forget.

There were a lot of people there, I think it was a record-breaking night. There were hula hooping girls, little kids and lots of happy people waiting for a brilliant show, inside and outside the tent. I doubt anyone left disappointed, Trampled By Turtles were fantastic. I like bluegrass and I really like bluegrass played by a bunch of talented men from Duluth.

I was so happy that Jack was there. In fact, he was the one who turned me onto Trampled By Turtles. One of the perks of having teenagers is their music knowledge, they play new music for us all the time. Thankfully, they have been raised on a steady diet of Crosby, Stills and Nash, Neil Young, Emmylou Harris, Dave Matthews and Cat Stevens.

Music frames a childhood. I remember listening to Cat Steven's, Tea For The Tillerman, when I was eight or nine in the family room while my Dad grilled steaks outside. I still can smell the smoke from the grill and feel the scratchy blueish green scalloped carpet every time I hear Hard Headed Woman. Jack will remember this night long after we are gone and that makes me happy.

When we met the band earlier in the evening a couple came up to Dave Simonett with a small box wrapped in gift wrap with his face and a red bow on it. It was their anniversary and either they met at a TBT concert or played one of their songs at the wedding (I wasn't listening that well, trying to balance picture-taking and beer drinking). It must be pretty humbling to realize the words and chords that lived in your head and were brought to life with a banjo, guitar or your voice have become touchstones for people you may never meet. There were moments during the concert where everyone was singing and dancing— a collective consciousness of pure joy. I could be wrong but I think the band felt it as well.

I don't play any musical instruments but if I did, it would be the violin. It is a seriously sexy instrument— all curves and beautiful details. It looks delicate but after watching Ryan Young play it, appearances are clearly deceiving. It is very sturdy and makes the most beguiling sounds. I am going to add violinist to the list of things I want to be when I grow up (or older, in my case).

We have spent many summer nights listening to music at Big Top with friends and family and the tent holds a special place in our family story. Jack said he has had an amazing childhood since we moved up here and one of the reasons was seeing Trampled By Turtles and Great Big Sea at the tent. Meghan and Charlie were in a few of the house shows last year, although they seemed to enjoy running around outside as much as being on stage. When we park our car in the gravel parking lot and see the striped canvas tent at the foot of the ski hill we were skiing on 4 months ago, I am awestruck by how blessed and lucky we are. Music is a gift and having a place in my backyard where I can share it with my kids is astounding.

In the song, Alone, the first verse is 'come in to this world alone and you go out of the world alone but in between there is you and me'. In between there are nights like last Friday— music, good friends, my first-born son and memories made under a canvas tent near the shores of Lake Superior. Absolutely brilliant.

Lupines, Lilacs, The Beach & A Double Rainbow

A few weeks ago, we went for a drive and this amazing field of lupines caught my eye. The vibrant purple and green literally stopped me in my tracks and I jumped out of the car to take this picture. Bayfield is awash in color. We set out to capture a little of it on an afternoon in late May.

Lilacs remind me of my parent's house— there are two huge bushes outside the kitchen windows and the fragrance was overpowering (in a good way) when they were blooming. Ted planted lilacs at our house right after we moved in five years ago. They are finally blooming and the fragrance transports me back to my Mom's kitchen.

Charlie found this green bug on the beach. It was on it's back near the water's edge and he rescued it. Don't you wonder what a bug thinks when it gets picked up? I saw A Bug's Life and lots of other Disney movies devoted to insects and I am pretty sure they don't like to be manhandled. We put him (or her) in the grass after I took the picture.

A magnificent stump on the beach. Charlie waded out to it and was looking for bugs in the water. It must have been an enormous tree at one time— I wish I knew where it came from. I walk by it every morning with the dogs and think of Charlie perched on the edge.

We have blueberry bushes and the butterflies love them. Gus, the black and tan Cavalier, loves to chase them. He camps out under the bushes and spends hours stalking them. His girth and short legs are definitely a handicap but he gamely keeps trying.

The beginning of the storm that blew in that afternoon. I was grilling after the deluge and heard the kids shouting. I ran to the front of the house expecting to find a compound fracture or a head wound but there it was— a double rainbow. As usual, Bayfield gave us a magical ending to a day spent capturing her brilliant colors.

Cinco de Mayo Tamales

Pat and Ann agreed to share their tamale knowledge with us a week ago. Perfect timing because it was almost Cinco de Mayo and that means tequila. Gail brought some hibiscus syrup from Mexico and made the best margarita I have had (except Kathy's jalapeño margarita with the best salt I have put in my mouth, Tajin ). Tamales are little package of meat or vegetables, masa and cheese and there are quite a few steps to make sure those precious packages taste good. I took one look at the recipe and knew two things— 1) Pat and Ann did a lot of work before they set foot in the kitchen that night and 2) good food takes time.

I had my first tamale at El Burrito Mercado in West St Paul. I was about 15 months pregnant with Jack, big as a house and a little testy. Ted and his dad, Frank, thought Mexican food might encourage Jack to relocate. It didn't work, Jack decided to hang out for another week but my mood improved with each bite of tamale. It was after another lunch a week later with Ted and Frank at Pasquals in Uptown, I ate a bunch of jalapeño poppers, that Jack decided to become the first-born Dougherty. Needless to say, I have a special spot in my heart for Mexican food.

My favorite part of the evening is when we sit down at the table— kids drifting in and out, dogs circling hopefully and laughter filling the room. I can't think of anywhere I would rather be than in the company of these amazing women.

Tamales with Pork and Chicken

6 - 8 pounds pork shoulder

Large fryer chicken (about 5 pounds)

Salt and pepper to taste

Corn husks

Soak corn husks in warm water for about two hours.

Cut pork roast into fist size chunks, place in a pan and cover with water. Bring to a boil and then reduce to a simmer and cook for about 2 1/2 hours or until very tender. Remove the meat from broth to cool. Once the meat is cool, shred it with your fingers and set aside. Save the broth, you will need it for the masa.

Cover the chicken with water in a large pot, Bring to a boil and then simmer for 2 hours or until the chicken is tender. Remove the chicken from the broth to cool. Remove and discard the skin, take the meat off the bones and shred into small pieces. Save the broth, you will need it for the masa.

1/2 cup corn oil

6 tbsp chili powder

3 tbsp garlic powder

1 tbsp black pepper

2 tbsp salt

Combine the pork and chicken in a large pan. Mix the oil and seasonings listed above in a small sauce pan and gently warm on stove top. Pour over meat and chicken and mix until thoroughly combined. At this point, the meat and broth can be refrigerated until ready to use.

2 pounds masa flour

3 tbsp paprika

3 tbsp salt

1 tbsp cumin seeds

3 tbsp chili powder

3 tbsp garlic powder

2 cups corn oil

Warm broth on stove top. Combine the masa, paprika, salt, cumin seeds, chili powder and garlic powder and then add the corn oil. Slowly begin to add 2 quarts of warm broth, about a cup at a time. Work with hands to make a dough with the consistency of thick peanut butter, add more masa or broth to achieve this consistency.

After the husks are soft, shake off excess water and lay on countertop on a damp towel. Pick up a husk, lay it across the palm of your hand with the small end towards your fingers. Scoop up about a 1/2 cup of masa with spatula and smear on husk. Cover the bottom and left 2/3 of corn husk with masa (this will make the folding easier). Add about 1 - 2 tbsp of meat on top of the masa. Starting from the left, roll tamale all the way to the right edge and then fold down the top of the husk. Tie a thin piece of corn husk around the tamale.

Bring a large pot of water with an insert set above the water line to boil. Stack tamales tightly on end, envelope end down, open end up in the insert. Cover pot and reduce heat to medium low and cook for at least two hours. Check water level often to make sure the pot does not boil dry. Let tamales set for 5 minutes, unwrap and eat. The tamales can be frozen after they have cooled.

We Went Hiking Up A Hill

We went for a hike up Pratt's Peak. I heard it is the highest point in Northern Bayfield County— elevation 1426 feet. We parked off Happy Hollow Road and headed up a snowmobile trail. The kids enjoyed the mud.

I enjoyed the glimpses of vibrant color against the monochrome landscape of early spring.

There is a fork in the road and we chose to go left. It turned out to be a good choice, the trail began to climb through a forest filled with dead, standing birch trees. A birch fell about 5 feet in front of us as we were remarking about all the birch logs on the ground. I asked Will if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? We decided, yes it does.

We got to the top and looked around, where was the lake? A lot of trees but no glistening blue water. Will climbed a tree to get a better view and reported that maybe we were on the wrong side. My orienteering skills are paltry at best but I know we went hiking up a hill. I heard there is a lake up there, maybe we will take a right at the fork in the road next time.

There Is Theater In These Woods

We were on our way to Stagenorth to see Oklahoma! when we saw this bear about 4 blocks from the theater. A black bear sighting on the way to the theater— only in Northern Wisconsin.

Meghan is in the chorus with her best friend, Emily. This is her second performance and she loves it.

As I sat in the theater, I recognized so many of the faces— my kid's music teacher, Bill the wine guy, friends of Will and Sadie. What a treasure to have Stagenorth in Washburn, it truly is a community theater.

The talent in this area is astounding. My good friend, Liz, is the director. She has directed many productions at Stagenorth and her expertise is evident— Oklahoma! is a polished musical full of beautiful costumes, voices and characters.

Sunday Photo Safari & Souffle

Sunday photo safari is becoming a regular thing. We grab our cameras, hop in the car and head out to parts unknown. Last week, we went down Star Route, took a right on a logging road and kept our eyes peeled for a place to stop. Adventures are a good way to stay connected— we talk about school, what pictures we want to take, if we should take George next time, where they want to go to college, what I am making for dinner. As they get older, I feel the quiet coming. I want to embrace the chaos, noise and beautiful mess with both arms while I still can. Photos give us instant access to moments in time and I am so thankful for these moments with my kids.

We were looking for an abandoned house or barn but settled for a bunch of rusty stuff in a field. We didn't run into any wild animals, snakes or hornet's nests— success as far as I am concerned.

When I told the kids I was making blue cheese souffle for dinner, I heard crickets. They had quesadillas and Ted and I ate souffle, it worked out well. It is the perfect dinner with a green salad, a baguette and good butter.

Ina Garten's Blue Cheese Souffle

3 tablespoons unsalted butter, plus extra for greasing the dish

1/4 cup finely grated Parmesan, plus extra for sprinkling

3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

1 cup scalded milk

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Pinch cayenne pepper

Pinch nutmeg

4 extra-large egg yolks, at room temperature

3 ounces good blue cheese, chopped

5 extra-large egg whites, at room temperature

1/8 teaspoon cream of tartar

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.

Butter the inside of an 8-cup souffle dish (7 1/2 inches in diameter and 3 1/4 inches deep) and sprinkle evenly with parmesan.

Melt the butter in a small saucepan over low heat. With a wooden spoon, stir in the flour and cook, stirring constantly, for 2 minutes. Off the heat, whisk in the hot milk, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 1/4 teaspoon black pepper, the cayenne, and nutmeg. Cook over low heat, whisking constantly, for 1 minute, until smooth and thick.

Off the heat, while still hot, whisk in the egg yolks, one at a time. Stir in the blue cheese and the 1/4 cup of Parmesan and transfer to a large mixing bowl.

Put the egg whites, cream of tartar, and a pinch of salt in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the whisk attachment. Beat on low speed for 1 minute, on medium speed for 1 minute, then finally on high speed until they form firm, glossy peaks.

Whisk 1/4 of the egg whites into the cheese sauce to lighten and then fold in the rest. Pour into the souffle dish, then smooth the top. Draw a large circle on top with the spatula to help the souffle rise evenly, and place in the middle of the oven. Turn the temperature down to 375 degrees F. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes (don't peek!) until puffed and brown. Serve immediately.

Another Sunday, Another Waterfall

We have lived in Bayfield for four years and are still discovering the wild and untouched beauty of this place. My friend, Ellen, suggested an excursion to Lost Falls in Cornucopia. Spring walks appeal to me for a couple of reasons: no flying bugs, no vegetation to speak of which means no wild animals can jump out unexpectedly and eat me and waterfalls are glorious in the spring. The sight and sound of rushing water is an instant re-set button for my spirit.

I cherish our Sunday adventures. Taking a few hours away from cell phones, tv's and computers is a beautiful pause from the usual 'hurry scurry' cadence of our lives. As we walked through the woods, I felt a profound sense of gratitude. Gratitude for my beautiful family, the benevolent energy of the trees, the new life springing up all around us and the memories we are making. The Bayfield Peninsula is proving to be a remarkable backdrop for our family story.

Gina's Gnocchi

We renovated our kitchen a couple of years ago and it turns out— it the perfect space for gathering. It is full of friends, kids, dogs and endless piles of papers, jackets and shoes.  I met Ted when I was 18 years old. The beginning stage of any relationship involves a lot of questions and when Ted asked me where I saw myself twenty years on, I knew the answer straight away. I saw myself behind a center island in a kitchen filled with kids and dogs. It is humbling to realize my 18 year old self knew where I was headed long before I figured it out. The first time I stood in my kitchen with dogs at my feet and the kids bouncing off the walls , I realized that girl was right. I have had the good fortune to fall into the company of some extraordinary women who like to cook, eat and drink wine. When Julie asked me to host a cooking class for the Writer's Read Event at Stagenorth in February, I was game. It was a beautiful afternoon full of laughter and good food. I felt the ancient energy of a community prepared meal and I wanted to continue what Julie started. The best meals have a story and my friend, Gina, is a brilliant storyteller and gnocchi maker. She generously agreed to share the story of her Italian family from Pietra Colora, Italy and her recipe for potato gnocchi. We made gnocchi, tomato sauce, laughed, talked and shared a meal. It was a magical evening.

Gina's Gnocchi

3 cups riced dry baked potatoes

1 cup white flour

2 eggs

Add up to 1 cup of flour to the riced potatoes to achieve the proper consistency. The dough should hold together enough to roll out without cracking.

Roll to 1/2 inch thick on a tablecloth or pastry cloth. Roll up to keep from drying out. Cut into squares. Roll with fingers into tubes. Put into boiling water 5 to 10 minutes or until they float. Drain and serve immediately.

 

Lunch With A Gentleman Farmer, Goats and Quiche

Creation is a messy business— whether it is pastry dough or birthing 63 baby goats. I had three kids in diapers at one point in my life and thought I would never emerge from the fog of feedings, Cheerios, juice boxes and chronic exhaustion. It was a cake walk compared to ushering 63 baby goats into the world in less than a month's time. My friend, Michael, is the lead goat herder, cheese maker and gentleman farmer at Sassy Nanny Farmstead Cheese. Last year, he invited us to his farm to see the babies. I made friends with a little guy named Andy and decided I had a goat in my future. As it turns out, a goat would have been the proverbial straw on the camel's back and I am goat less. However, I am still a goat admirer and was excited to meet this year's new additions to the herd.

During the summer, there is a great farmers market every Thursday in Cornucopia and that is where I tasted Michael's goat cheese for the first time about five years ago. Growing up in Minneapolis, my previous experience with cheese involved plastic wrap and a grocery store. Once I put Michael's cheese in my mouth, I realized I had been missing the boat. Local cheese, made by a man who genuinely cares for his goats was a revelation— it was fresh and creamy without any of the gaminess I typically associated with goat cheese. He makes a number of goat cheeses: Lake Effect, a fresh, spreadable goat cheese, Buttin' Heads, a sea salt brined feta, Cabra Fresco, an homage to quesco fresco and Winey Kid (my favorite), an aged raw milk cheese with a red wine washed rind. Food tastes better when it hasn't been on a trans-continental trip of planes, trains and automobiles and Michael's cheese is no exception. His cheese is as good as anything I have tasted and I know the goats (kind of). How cool is that??

Living your dream takes a tremendous amount of hard work— the stakes are high and success is hard to measure. Michael, like most of my friends up here, decided to take a leap of faith and chose the road less traveled. I am glad he did because as Frost said,, 'that has made all the difference'. It makes a difference to live the life you dreamed of, to be a good steward to your environment and animals, to live in the moment (especially when the moment is one you would rather fast forward) and have the courage to watch it all unfold and know it is as it should be. When I moved to Bayfield and opened the restaurant with Renee, I had no idea what the future held for me but I knew it had all the components for an epic adventure. That is the beauty of Sassy Nanny Cheese, Good Thyme Restaurant or any number of the other small businesses up here— it isn't always easy but there are bound to be some epic adventures shared around a table full of good food, wine and friends.

Dorie Greenspan's Gorgonzola and Apple Quiche

1 pastry crust, blind baked in a 9 to 10 inch tart pan

1 tbsp unsalted butter

1 medium onion, finely chopped

1 apple (Empire, Gala or Granny Smith), sliced 1/4 inch thick

4 ounces Gorgonzola cheese, crumbled

4 ounces Swiss cheese, shredded

2/3 cup heavy cream

1/3 cup milk

4 large eggs

salt and pepper

 Put a rack in the center of the oven and preheat to 400 deg F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Melt butter in a small skillet over low heat. Add onion and saute until onion is soft but not colored, about 10-15 minutes, then remove from heat. Place the partially baked pastry shell on the baking sheet (this will catch any drips). Spread the onion evenly over the bottom of the crust. Scatter the apple pieces over the onion and top with the crumbled Gorgonzola and shredded Swiss cheese. Beat the eggs, milk, and cream together until well blended and season with salt and pepper. Pour the egg mixture into the tart pan. Place the baking sheet in the oven and bake for 40-45 minutes, until the filling is puffed all over (make sure the center is puffed), lightly browned, and set. Transfer the quiche to a cooling rack and allow it to cool for at least 5 minutes. Remove the sides of the tart pan and slide quiche onto a platter or cutting board. Serve warm or at room temperature. Leftovers keep well in the fridge for 2-3 days.

 

Sunday Afternoon at Houghton Falls

Pristine, running water is a blessing. Running water winding through a verdant forest surrounded by an ancient sandstone ravine is nothing short of miraculous. Sadie and I were driving home from Washburn Sunday afternoon and saw Will walking downtown with his camera slung across his back. He was headed out to take a few pictures on the Brownstone Trail but really wanted to go to Houghton Falls. Sounded like a brilliant idea to me— it would be my first visit, the sun was shining and it sounded like a perfect family outing. The primordial beauty was breathtaking. I felt the heartbeat of the forest as I walked up the ravine to the falls. I heard the birds, the water, the wind in the trees and the kids laughter. I was utterly enchanted. Once again, I am humbled by the power of the natural world to soothe my monkey brain and restore my spirit.

I have a connection (kind of) to Houghton Falls. The restaurant building was built by Hattie and Milton Sprague as their farm-house— the farm had 1000 acres and included the falls. Over the years, parcels of land were sold and the house changed hands a number of times. The Club Lido, owned by Cleo Grant, was an institution from the mid 1950's until the late 1970's (I am not sure when Cleo sold it). I met Cleo's daughter , Cheri, in August of 2010 when she traveled back to Washburn for the dedication of the Houghton Falls Nature Preserve. When Cheri was growing up, they owned the land from the restaurant to the lake (including the falls);  it was fascinating to hear her stories. She used to ride her pony to the lake and spend time in a cabin Cleo (or her Dad) had built somewhere near the falls. I can't imagine having Houghton Falls as your playground— it must have been magical. Cheri sent me a package of pictures after she left. I scanned a few: there is a picture of Cheri on her pony, Cleo and Cheri in front of the restaurant, Cleo in the 1940's and that beautiful building we call Good Thyme.