Salty, Sweet and Savory Shortbread Crackers

I have a thing for preserved lemons (recipe here) and oil-cured olives -- when I find a recipe that includes both of them, I'm a happy camper. I'm also a big fan of savory shortbread crackers: they are the perfect cocktail food, they can be made ahead of time and baked right before you need them, and they are well-suited to a variety of flavors: gorgonzola, cheddar, feta, a variety of herbs, and in the case of these crackers -- olives and preserved lemon.  

I have quite a collection of cookbooks and Dorie Greenspan's, Around My French Table, is dog-eared and stained (good indicators of a well-loved cookbook) but the first time I made these, I was skeptical. Grated egg yolk? Powdered sugar? And oil-cured olives?? It seemed a little strange but since shortbread crackers are a staple in my kitchen and I happened to have potato starch in the cupboard, I decided to give it a whirl. Boy, am I glad I did -- these are lovely sweet and salty crackers with a delicate texture that makes it mighty tough to have just one (or two, or seven). The dough freezes beautifully, well-wrapped, for up to two months...it's always good to have a secret cocktail weapon on hand when you need a little something to accompany your wine! 

Olive and Preserved Lemon Shortbread Crackers
(adapted from Dorie Greenspan's, Around My French Table)

1 large hard-boiled egg yolk, white discarded
2¼ cups all-purpose flour
6 tablespoons potato starch
15 tablespoons (1 stick plus 7 tablespoons) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1/3 cup olive oil (a fruity oil is best)
1 cup confectioners’ sugar, sifted
1/2 cup pitted black olives, preferably oil-cured, chopped
1/4 cup preserved lemon, rinsed and chopped (rind only)
Maldon sea salt, for sprinkling

Preparation
Grate the hard-boiled egg onto a piece of wax paper. Put the flour and potato starch in a strainer set over a large bowl and sift into the bowl; whisk to thoroughly blend.

Working with a stand mixer, preferably fitted with a paddle attachment, or with a hand mixer in a large bowl, beat the butter on medium speed until it’s soft and creamy. Beat in the olive oil, followed by the grated yolk. Blend in the confectioners’ sugar, reduce the speed to low and add the dry ingredients. Mix until the dough just comes together and then stir in the chopped olives and preserved lemon. You’ll have a soft, pliable dough. 

Turn the dough out onto a work surface, divide it into thirds, and shape each piece into a log about 1 1/2 inches in diameter. Wrap the dough in plastic and chill for several hours or, better yet, overnight. If you’re in a hurry, you can freeze the logs for an hour or so.

When you’re ready to bake the crackers, center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 325°F. Line a baking sheet with a silicone baking mat or parchment paper.

Working with 1 log at a time, slice the cookies 1/4 inch thick and arrange them on the baking sheet, and sprinkle with Maldon sea salt.

Bake the sablés for 15 to 18 minutes, rotating the baking sheet at the midway mark, or until the cookies are firm, but not colored. They may turn golden around the edges, but you don’t want them to brown. Transfer the cookies to a rack to cool, and repeat with the remaining logs of dough, making sure to use a cool baking sheet each time. 

Makes about 60 cookies.

A Photo Safari in the Porkies

The backlog of blog posts continues to grow (I keep eating and taking photos but can't seem to find the time to edit and write) and I've committed to try and spend a few hours a week on my website. Since it's technically spring and that means green will soon replace white in Bayfield, I thought these shots from our photo safari in the Porcupine Mountains a few weeks before Will left for Madison were appropriate.

Will's home for spring break and we went back to the Upper Peninsula today for another photo safari (at this rate, I'll get those photos edited sometime in August) and we were remarking that he's almost done with his freshman year...time has flown by.

What a difference 7 months makes -- he's had a great year and I've learned that sending kids away to college doesn't kill a person after all. These photos are a sweet reminder of our last photo safari in 2016 -- before Will struck off on his own and I became a mother of two college students. 

It was a humid and cloudy day and there were mushrooms everywhere. 

We hiked down to the Lake of the Clouds but it was the mushrooms that got my attention -- there were a wide variety and they were tucked into small spaces, scattered on the forest floor and perched on the tree trunks. 

Water drops suspended on a blade of grass. 

These were the most delicate looking mushrooms; their caps were balanced on impossibly thin stems. It was a feat of natural engineering that they were upright. 

We stopped in a meadow that used to be a school yard when Nonesuch was a active mining community and encountered these Suessian-looking flowers. 

We hiked down to Nonesuch Falls and found these old stone foundations along the way. 

The little worlds that exist amidst my oh-so-human fuss and bluster help me to be mindful and remember that magic is everywhere....even when I'm not looking. 

Cedar embracing stone. 

"Courage is the measure of our heartfelt participation with life, with another, with a community, a work, a future. To be courageous, is not necessarily to go anywhere or do anything except to make conscious those things we already feel deeply and then to live through the unending vulnerabilities of those consequences. To be courageous is to seat our feelings deeply in the body and in the world: to live up to and into the necessities of relationships that often already exist, with things we find we already care deeply about: with a person, a future, a possibility in society, or with an unknown that begs us on and always has begged us on. Whether we stay or whether we go - to be courageous is to stay close to the way we are made." David Whyte

I struggle with change, especially when it involves my kids growing up and leaving home, and I spent a good portion of this afternoon in the Porkies thinking about dropping Will in Madison and then turning the car north, without him. I wish I could say I had some sort of epiphany in the woods that August day that settled my mind and heart but I didn't....and as it turns out, I don't need epiphanies to muddle my way through letting go. I just need to be brave. Brave enough to know that Will would be fine (and trust me, it's clear that Madison is exactly where he belongs) and that he'll carry the smell of damp pine needles, the sounds of running water and the memories of tiny mushrooms nestled in the crooks of giant red pines with him as he moves along. He knows to stay close to the way he was made.

Fried Chicken That Will Blow Your Mind

I realize the thought of fried chicken blowing you mind is a little 'out there' but I'm serious -- this is really good chicken. Fried chicken is a funny thing -- it looks like a simple proposition (dredge chicken parts, deep fry and eat) but I've found it difficult to find that sweet spot where the breading is golden-brown, the skin is crispy and the inside is cooked. Add a thermometer to the mix that someone diligently scrubbed clean but also removed the temperature markings and fried chicken takes on a level of complexity that gives me a headache. I suppose I could have bought a new thermometer or been satisfied with two of the three criteria for superlative chicken mentioned above but instead, I set out to research recipes that cooked the chicken before frying....which would allow me to fry the chicken at slightly higher temperature without worrying about the meat being fully cooked. 

The vinegar and soy sauce poaching liquid combined with a fermented chili and soybean paste that I'd never heard of before (and still can't pronounce) takes fried chicken to a whole new level. The gochujang paste is critical and can be found at an Asian grocery store or on Amazon -- it has a very particular taste and I can't think of a decent substitute. Also, poach the chicken very slowly -- you don't want the skin to shrink too much or fall off the chicken....the crispy skin is my favorite part of fried chicken. And I'm telling you, once you taste the chili sauce you're going to want to slather it everything you can think of -- it's that good. 

Korean Fried Chicken 

For poaching

2-1/2 cups distilled white vinegar
1 1/2 cups water
1/3 cup soy sauce
5 medium cloves garlic, smashed
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon whole black peppercorns
1 teaspoon brown sugar
2 bay leaves
2 to 3 lb. bone-in chicken drumsticks and thighs
Kosher salt

For the sauce

1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons gochujang paste
1/4 cup apple cider (apple juice can be substituted)
2 tablespoons lime juice, freshly squeezed
3 teaspoons Asian toasted sesame oil
2 teaspoons rice vinegar
2 teaspoons honey
2 teaspoons soy sauce

For dredging and frying

1 cup all-purpose flour
1/3 cup cornstarch
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 cups buttermilk
1 quart vegetable or peanut oil

Preparation

Poach the chicken: in a 4-quart saucepan, bring all ingredients to a simmer over medium heat ad then reduce heat to low. Add the chicken to the simmering broth, partially cover the pan, and poach for 15 minutes, turning the pieces over midway (it’s important that the liquid never get hotter than a very gentle simmer). Turn off the heat and let the chicken rest in the broth for 20 minutes. Transfer the chicken pieces to a cooling rack set over a sheet tray and pat the pieces dry.

Make the sauce: whisk all the sauce ingredients together in a medium bowl; set aside.

Dredge and fry the chicken: combine the flour, cornstarch, onion powder, garlic powder, salt, and pepper together in a medium bowl. Pour the buttermilk into a separate bowl. Dip each piece of chicken in the buttermilk, lift out, and let the excess buttermilk drip off. Dredge the chicken in the flour so that each piece is evenly coated. Transfer to a large plate and set aside while you heat the oil.

Add oil (enough to fill the pan halfway ) to a 12-inch cast-iron or deep fryer; heat the oil over medium high to 365°F. Set a wire rack on a paper-towel-lined rimmed baking sheet.

Working in batches, fry the chicken, turning it over every minute or two and adjusting the heat as needed to maintain 365°F until an instant-read thermometer registers 165°F in the thickest part of each piece, 8 to 10 minutes. Transfer the chicken to the rack. Liberally brush the fried chicken with the sauce and serve with more sauce on the side.

Cardamom and Orange Cookies

Cardamom was the name of the game in my kitchen this winter. I haven't cooked much with it in the past but I made up for lost time with Swedish meatballs, cakes and cookies. Orange and cardamom are the culinary version of Laverne and Shirley or Starsky and Hutch -- totally different flavors but perfectly matched. Cardamom requires a light hand, too much and it goes from lyrical to over-powering....which in the case of these cookies, is not a good thing. 

I found some vanilla beans in my cupboard that were getting a little long in the tooth and needed a purpose before they bit the dust. Vanilla sugar is about as simple as it gets: find a Mason jar, put in 4 or 5 vanilla beans and fill the jar with raw sugar. I let it sit for about 2 weeks and I add fresh sugar (give the jar a couple shakes to mix the old and new sugar) every time I use it. It adds a nice layer of flavor to cookies, cakes and pies. 

Orange Cardamom Cookies (adapted from Food 52)

2 cups all purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground cardamom
2 sticks ( 1 cup) butter, room temperature
1 cup light brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 large egg, room temperature
1 yolk of large egg, room temperature
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
Zest of one large orange
Raw vanilla sugar, for rolling

Preparation

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Whisk together flour, baking powder, salt and cardamom and set aside.

In a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, stir the butter and sugar together till just combined, about 30 seconds. Add the egg and egg yolk; stir to combine. Add the vanilla extract and orange zest, stir again. Gently add in the dry ingredients a little at a time, stirring just until they are combined, about 30-45 seconds.

Scoop the dough with a tablespoon and roll into balls. Roll the cookie balls in the vanilla sugar. Place evenly on parchment lined cookie sheets and flatten slightly with the back of a spatula. .

Bake for 10 - 12 minutes or until cookies are brown on edges and still soft in the center.

Place cookie sheet(s) on wire rack for 5 minutes. Remove cookies with spatula and place them on wire racks to cool completely.

An Icy March Sunrise

One of the benefits of taking Meghan to Washburn for a 6:15 AM bus ride to a volleyball tournament? Catching the sunrise on Bayview Beach. A late winter beach is constantly changing -- one day the beach will be socked in with ice and two days later, there is open water and small icebergs bobbing a few feet offshore.  The interplay of the Lake and its ice, the sun and its golden-orange rays and the pups running along the ice-strewn beach was a helluva way to spend an early March morning. 

There is something about ice as it's melting its way back to its beginnings that is delicately beautiful. It reminds me of lace -- a weblike pattern fashioned by winter's loosening grip as we move towards spring.

There was a thin skim of ice over the Lake and the cracks were delineated with ice crystals, lit up by the rising sun. 

We're going to have an early spring -- it was a warm winter and the Lake didn't freeze completely. The snow is nearly gone and I bet the Lake will be open by early April. Ice is ephmeral and in a changing climate, becoming more of a rarity than a guarantee. 

I'll witness many more sunrises over this beach but this one will stick with me. The world seems to have lost its mind and we are in the in-between of a great awakening and a great turning...and it feels chaotic. I have no idea where we are headed as a country and I'm watching the horizon for what's next. Thankfully, the sun rises each morning, bathing the world in its light, and winter's melting ice will become the summer's liquid waves -- there is comfort in those watery rhythms and I'm thankful for the peace it gives me.