How to Make Kate's Little Scones

One or two people have asked me for my recipe for scones. I bring these to church for coffee hour, and they go pretty fast. Here it is:

Scones

Preheat the oven to 425 F.

Mix together, in a food processor, if you like, or with a whisk:

2 cups all-purpose flour
1/3 cup sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt

Add:

3/4 stick cold unsalted butter, cut in pieces

Cut in the butter with two knives, a pastry blender, or a few pulses of the food processor, doing that thing you do that coats the fat with flour but doesn't mix it to a paste, just as for biscuits, soda bread, or pie crust, until the largest pieces of butter are the size of peas.

Stir in:

1/2 cup dried currants or raisins

Mix together in another bowl:

1 large egg
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon grated orange rind, if you like

Mix into the dry ingredients just until moistened. Gather into a ball and knead against the bowl 5 times or so, until the dough holds together. Turn onto a floured surface. Roll out until about 3/4 of an inch thick. Slice across and across until you have wedges the size of 2 or 3 bites.

Place on an ungreased cookie sheet. Bake util the tops ares golden brown, 12 to 15 minutes.

And there you have it. Tasty scones. Enjoy with butter or Devonshire cream, strawberry jam, and tea.

© 2015 Kate Gallison

What to do with Apples

There's nothing murderous I want to talk about today, so I thought I might give you my recipe for Apple Crisp. Apples are in season here in the Delaware Valley. A trip to the Homestead Farm Market, Sansone's, Solebury Orchards in Pennsylvania, or even Terhune's, a slightly longer drive, will get you crispy apples at the peak of flavor ripeness, right off the tree.

But wherever you are, local fruit is best. Here's what I'm doing tonight with the Empire apples I bought at Solebury Orchards. (The Honeycrisp apples are for eating out of hand.)

Apple Crisp

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

Take 8 medium apples, tart and crisp, your favorite variety for cooking.

Peel and core the apples. Cut them into one-inch chunks and spread them in an unbuttered two-quart baking dish.

Mix the dry ingredients of the topping together. You can do this in a food processor, and then process the butter too, but if you do you must be careful not to overprocess the butter.

3/4 cup all-purpose flour
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg

Cut a quarter-pound stick of butter into small pieces and mix it in. This is the only step in the recipe that requires nice judgement. If you make biscuits or pie crust you know the drill: cut the butter into the flour mixture using two knives or a pastry blender until the mixture resembles coarse breadcrumbs. The idea is to coat the little lumps of fat with flour but not to get it all pasty. If you're using a food processor, a couple of pulses or so should do the job.

Spread the flour mixture over the apples. Knock the baking dish on the counter to settle the crumbs. Bake until the apples are tender, 50 to 55 minutes. (Macintosh apples cook more quickly.)

Serve warm with vanilla ice cream.

© 2015 Kate Gallison

How Much Food is Too Much?

“…I pounded some lamb steaks I'd bought for lamb cutlets. Dipped them in flour, then egg, then bread crumbs. When they were what Julia Child calls nicely coated I put them aside and peeled four potatoes. I cut them into little egg-shaped oblongs, which took awhile, and started them cooking in a little oil, rolling them around to get them brown all over. I also started the cutlets in another pan. When the potatoes were evenly browned I covered them, turned down the heat and left them to cook through. When the cutlets had browned, I poured off the fat, added some Chablis and some fresh mint, covered them and let them cook… I took the lamb cutlets out of the pan and cooked down the wine. I shut off the heat, put in a lump of unsalted butter, swirled it through the wine essence and poured it over the cutlets."

The crime novel this recipe came from was not something of Diane Mott Davidson's, not even a cozy. It was Promised Land, by Robert B. Parker, and it won the Edgar best novel award for 1977. It looks like a perfectly good recipe, if you don't mind fried food. I wouldn't do that to a good piece of lamb, myself, but that's neither here nor there. The question is, what place, if any, does a cooking recipe have in a crime novel?

I'm thinking, it depends on the novel. For a noir novel the recipe would have to be something doomed and despairing. Beans out of a can, maybe, or a dreadful stew of some kind. Stewed road kill. For a detective story, if your detective cooks, like Spencer, you can describe something quite delicious. If your detective doesn't cook, maybe you want to draw the cloak of charity over his or her activities in the kitchen. I once put a recipe in a Mother Grey book that I got out of a Polly Pigtails comic book long ago, involving crushed potato chips, tuna fish, and canned mushroom soup; Mother Grey doesn't cook. (Notice how I used the Oxford comma in that sentence, where Robert B. Parker didn't. A lot of water has gone under the bridge since 1977, and fashions in punctuation have changed.)

I can see by the covers and the titles that a lot of cozy mysteries include food, with recipes, presumably, though I blush to confess that I don't read them. Would you put a recipe in a classic thriller or mystery in the modern day, or would it stop the action? Rex Stout's stories about Nero Wolfe always featured marvelous food, but not detailed recipes for preparing it. Menus, rather. That would be one way to go. Or send your protagonist to a great restaurant and have him order what you would like to have yourself, if only you had the money. Readers like sensuous treats. Sometimes they even like to go on vicarious alcoholic binges. What do you think about it? Food or no food with your crime? (Maybe fava beans and a nice Chianti.)

© 2015 Kate Gallison

Spanish Tortilla (Potato Omelet)

Harold took a picture of the dinner I gave him the other night, and when I asked him why he did that he said it was for his lawyer. Luckily, he was kidding. (Neither of us really wants to go through all that again, and besides, we still like each other.) No, he was taking the picture for the recipe database he keeps on his computer called "Kate and Harold's Recipes."

I wish I could hook you up with the entire database. Someday, maybe, when he installs a server in the house and I get a bit more technically sophisticated. (Hey, it could happen, even at my time of life.) Failing that, I'm going to give you my recipe for Spanish Tortilla right here, having had one or two requests for it. It's a great recipe for when you have nothing in the house to eat except eggs, onions, and potatoes. And olive oil and salt. Maybe a little pepper. It always takes half an hour longer to cook than you think it will.

Spanish Tortilla:

Heat in your trusty cast iron frying pan

Two tablespoons of olive oil

add

A big onion, sliced thin

Cook until soft, about twenty minutes, reducing the heat as they cook. Put the onions in a bowl.

Add to the pan and heat,

Three more tablespoons of olive oil

Put in the hot oil

Two big potatoes, or six little bitty ones, peeled and sliced thin. If the potatoes are small and the skins are tender you can leave the skins on. Cook, turning, until brown. Drain on paper towels.

Add to the onions,

Six large eggs
1/2 teaspoon salt
Ground black pepper to taste

Sprinkle the potatoes with salt and ground black pepper to taste. Add to the egg mixture.

Heat the pan. When hot, put the egg mixture in and reduce the heat. Shake the pan from time to time but otherwise do not disturb the omelet. When it's cooked on the bottom—browned a little bit—put the pan under the broiler to cook the top. Cut in wedges and serve. Mighty tasty.

Kate Gallison

Slicing Away at the Holidays

Midnight: Thanksgiving has begun

No matter how many times I remark upon it in October, Thanksgiving always slips up on me. On October 15, I'm sure I can get it all done, and then suddenly Thanksgiving is a week away, the menu is random notes on post-its, no shopping has been done, no cleaning, and I'm thinking, Wait a minute, how did this happen? Every single year.

I continue to believe that despite having a writing career and another career that, combined, make weeks go by in which tiles have come up in the bathroom floor and I haven't noticed, I should be able to display a gift of organization and time-conjuring for which I have hitherto shown absolutely no talent whatsoever. 

Which brings me to last week. 

My husband and I doubled down, and decided on a "bridge too far" menu. We had an excuse after all. Our friend Mariann is a vegetarian, and comes to stay the weekend with us every year. She's inspired us to eat much better, so we want to give her terrific dishes at Thanksgiving, not just the same old "sides" while we eat turkey. This year, we'd outdo ourselves with a half dozen new recipes. Yes, right, new. As in never tried before, and so are guaranteed to 1) fail; or 2) provoke locked-jaw remarks because somebody didn't read the part where it said the dish had to be marinated for 6 hours; or 3) both. 

However, David decided the way to avoid this was to test the new recipes last week. On Friday, it was the potatoes au gratin. Layers of thinly sliced potatoes and onions, drenched in a sauce of cream, rosemary, thyme, sage, and grated Gruyere. Topped with grated Parmesan and baked till bubbly and crispy brown on top. 

I was upstairs in my office that evening, working the other career -- financial editing -- slicing away on some unbaked prose: "Clearly, for the one-year period two years before the observation years, the HPA experiences vary for all three periods."  (In my line of work, when they start with "clearly", get the red pencil out.)

Then from the foot of the stairs, I hear, "Honey, where are the Band-aids?"

And so we ended up in the urgent care clinic where we were seen by a rather dishy-looking doctor in a garnet turban and a nurse who called us in by asking the waiting room chipperly, "So, who's bleeding?" 

The Suspect

 

What do you do when an important digit is out of commission for days? 

You ratchet back (we do not use the phrase "cut back" around here these days). 

We decided on far fewer dishes, and recipes we'd done before. Recipes that either take little time to prepare or can be made up to the point of baking/roasting or adding the dressing the day before.

Stuffing with wild mushrooms (finished product below; it will be reheated today); cauliflower roasted and dusted with cumin and paprika; a spinach salad with pomegranate seeds and blue cheese. 

I made cranberry sauce (shown here at 9am Wednesday morning, simmering for 10 mins with sugar, before cooling and being folded around orange slices and zest). It's so easy. Raises a person's confidence when there's still all that cleaning and table-setting to do. If you make cranberry sauce from scratch, just make sure the oranges are sweet. Save the bitterness for your relatives. 

Uh, yeah, we are doing the potatoes au gratin, too. Hey, it was creamy sauce with cheese. You understood that part, right?

And the assailant was released from custody yesterday as part of a work-release program due to extenuating circumstances (the finger guard had been ignored). 

So, I'm headed to bed.  With visions of store-bought pecan pie dancing in my head. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

Sheila York & David Nighbert

Copyright 2014

Right Now, Write Now…and Cook Dinner Too

I got an idea the other day, out of the blue. That’s the way they come. One minute you’re trying to get to your exit across three lanes of speeding traffic because that’s how New Jersey highway engineers thought it should be done, and the next, you know how your heroine will catch the killer.

When I got home, I was inspired. I had to, had to sit down and write. But it was my turn to cook dinner and I hadn't been to the store. I was saved because my husband, David, is a writer, too, and he said, sure go on, go write. And I did. But later, I began to think about what a writer does when she comes home inspired but has hungry kids waiting and no one to cook for them. Put off writing for a couple of hours? Or order a pizza stuffed with something only chemically related to real cheese?

I shared this thought with David while slurping down my second helping of his vegetable soup, made magically with whatever he'd found in the crisper and pantry. I asked whether it would be possible for a writer to cook a homemade meal that kids would eat and be out of the kitchen in, say, thirty minutes and headed for the computer? Here, my darlings, mommy cooked real food for you; now I’m taking a plate upstairs, so put on a movie and don’t bother me.

I said, “Not 30 minutes in TV-cooking-show time, where the prep staff cuts everything up while the host is getting hair and eyeliner. I mean 30 minutes in real-person time.”

He said, “Would this include actually reading the recipe first? And getting your equipment together?”

Right. Cooking-show and cookbook estimates never take that into account either.

I said, “What could you give me?”

He leaned over and wiped some soup off my chin. “Thirty-five, forty at the outside.”

And he did it. Twice.

The two recipes he adapted (and appear at the end of this blog) are hearty one-dish meals, with few utensils and simple instructions, and have ingredients relatively easy to find. Most of the ingredients also have a long shelf life and so could be easily on hand in pantry or freezer for the next inspiration emergency. Even the greens and the thyme can keep well for quite awhile in the refrigerator.

If your kids are ravenous teens, hand them a pint of cherry tomatoes and a loaf of bread, too. Tell them to wash the first and toast the second. Welcome to writer side dishes, kid!

Here's the farfalle. And no, I didn't take this picture. I took a picture of a picture. You learn fast how much work it is to make real food look as good as it tastes in a photo. This is from a Martha Stewart cookbook called Fresh Flavor Fast. Good book. But try saying that title three times fast.



The chorizo shot is also grabbed from its source, the February 2013 Bon Appetit. 

My husband, David F. Nighbert, has begun migrating his backlist to e-books on Kindle and Nook. The mysteries (starred Kirkus reviews) Strikezone, Squeezeplay & Shutout are up now. And two SF novels, Timelapse & Clouds of Magellan, will be available soon. I highly recommend all!

This picture of us was taken by friend photog Mariann Moery as guests were arriving for the launch party for Death in Her Face at Mysterious Bookshop in Manhattan last fall. (If you look closely, you can spot Annamaria headed for the bar just beyond the man with the green bag strap on his shoulder to the left.)

We tried to create the recipes below as links to printable versions, but it's beyond the reliable skill of this blog tool (or maybe this blogger). But a simple cut and paste into Word will do the trick for you.  

Sheila York

Farfalle with Arugula and White Beans

Ingredients	Utensils
Coarse (kosher) salt and freshly ground pepper	Dutch oven (with lid) big enough for at least 5 qts water
12 oz farfalle (bow-tie) pasta (about 6 cups dry)	Chef’s knife & cutting board
4 Tbsp unsalted butter, cut into 1-Tbsp slices	Colander
4 small to medium garlic cloves, peeled and thinly sliced	Small skillet
1 pound baby arugula	Small plate to cool walnuts
1 can (15.5 oz) cannellini beans, drained and rinsed	Wooden cooking spoon
1/3 cup walnut pieces, toasted, for garnish [Keep toasted walnut pieces on hand. They’re nice additions to simple salads]	Measuring cup with pouring lip

Gather all your ingredients and utensils before starting your food prep.
1.	Start bringing 5 quarts of water to a boil over high heat in large covered Dutch oven. (Pasta is happier if it has plenty of water to swim in.) This is what takes time, so put the pot on your strongest-heat burner and keep it covered till water boils.
2.	While waiting, do your ingredient prep: Peel and slice garlic; rinse and drain beans in colander; cut butter using the 1 Tbsp markers on the wrapping; chop walnuts into pieces if they didn’t come that way.
3.	Toast walnuts. Heat a small heavy skillet over medium heat for a minute. Add walnut pieces. Shake the skillet occasionally to keep walnuts from burning. After 2-3 minutes, transfer walnuts to a plate to cool.
4.	When water boils, add a generous amount of salt (about 4 Tbsp) and the pasta. Bring water back to a boil (cover the pot to make this happen faster). Cook pasta, pot uncovered, stirring occasionally to make sure pasta doesn’t stick together or to the bottom. Cook according to the timing on the package till it is al dente. (You’ll have about 10 mins here to get out your plates and flatware, and finish any ingredient prep) When pasta is done, reserve ½ cup of the pasta water and set it aside. Then drain pasta; leave in colander.
5.	In the now-empty Dutch oven, heat 1 Tbsp of the butter over medium heat, then add the garlic. Cook, stirring, 1-2 mins. Do not brown the garlic.
6.	Add the arugula, handfuls at a time, and stir/toss just till wilted, a couple of minutes.
7.	Add beans, pasta and remaining 3 Tbsp of butter; season with salt and pepper.
8.	Heat, tossing, till butter is melted and beans and pasta are warmed through, about 1 minute. While doing this, add enough of the pasta water slowly to create a thin sauce. You will not need all the water.
9.	Check seasoning; adjust as necessary. Serve in shallow bowls and garnish with the walnuts.

Adapted from Fresh Flavor Fast, copyright 2010 Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia

Chorizo and White Bean Stew

Ingredients	Utensils
2 Tbsp olive oil, divided [‘divided’ means you won’t use it all at once]	Large Dutch oven
1 lb. chorizo (buy it precooked). You can use other spicy, precooked sausages (Italian, andouille, etc.)	Wooden cooking spoon
1 large onion, thinly sliced	Tongs to turn sausage & remove thyme
4 garlic cloves, peeled and finely chopped	Colander
1 sprig fresh thyme. [How much is a ‘sprig’, you ask? The equivalent of three 3-inch leafy pieces works for us]	Chef’s knife & cutting board
2 cans (each 15.5 oz) cannellini beans, rinsed, drained	Small plate
2 cups low-sodium chicken broth	Measuring cup with pouring lip
5 oz baby spinach (about 10 cups).	Measuring spoons
Kosher salt, freshly ground pepper
Smoked paprika (optional)

Gather all your ingredients and utensils before starting your food prep.
1.	Heat 1 Tbsp of oil in large Dutch oven over medium heat. Add precooked sausage and brown, turning occasionally, 5-8 minutes.
2.	While sausage browns, slice onion; chop garlic; rinse/drain beans in colander.
3.	Transfer sausage to a plate. Leave fat from sausage-browning in the pan. Still over medium heat, add remaining 1 Tbsp oil to same Dutch oven (2 Tbsp might be necessary if the sausage did not leave much fat). When oil/fat is heated, add onion slices, garlic and thyme sprig. Cook, stirring occasionally, till onion is softened, about 5 minutes.
4.	Add beans and broth, and cook 8-10 minutes, crushing a few of the beans with the back of a wooden spoon to slightly thicken the sauce. While this is cooking, slice the chorizo and collect plates and flatware.
5.	Season stew with salt and pepper
6.	Add spinach in handfuls and cook till just wilted, about 2 minutes.
7.	Fold chorizo into the stew; Add a bit of water to thin, if desired.
8.	Remove thyme sprig (if you can find it). Divide stew into bowls, sprinkle with the paprika if you choose, and serve

Adapted from Bon Appetit magazine, February 2013. The original recipe calls for fresh sausage, which would take longer to cook. We’ve been able to find spicy, precooked sausage at our regular grocery store.

Pork Rib Jambalaya

At the end of a depressing week where everyone in the house came down with colds and racking coughs (not flu! Not flu!) and the internet was full of stories about the futility of a career in genre fiction, there's only one thing left for a girl to do.

Laissez les bon temps rouler!

To that end I am offering herewith my recipe for Cajun pork rib jambalaya.

2 lbs boneless country pork ribs, cut in 2 inch pieces
2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
2 tsp Tabasco sauce

Mix seasonings with meat. Heat in a heavy pot

1 tbsp cooking oil

Fry the meat, stirring, until browned on all sides. Remove the meat. Put in the hot oil

1 1/2 cups chopped onion

Cook until soft and golden, scraping up the browned meat bits. Add

1/2 cup chopped celery
3 garlic cloves, peeled

Cook 5 minutes. Add

1 cup seeded and chopped bell peppers

Cook 2 or 3 minutes more. Return rib meat to the pot, and add

3/4 cup canned seeded and chopped tomatoes
4 cups chicken broth

Cook, covered, 30 minutes, stirring from time to time. Stir in

1/3 cup chopped fresh parsley leaves
1/2 cup finely chopped green onions (green and white parts)
3 cups raw long-grain white rice

Cook, covered, until the rice is done, 25-30 minutes. Add more Tabasco if desired.  Serve.

Kate Gallison

The Literary J.T. Pudding

Inspiration for this title came from two places:

1. While reading a terrific thriller by J.T. Ellison called A Deeper Darkness
2. After reading about the many delicious recipes and meals described by the charming Jungle Red bloggers.

The weather outside was climbing to the mid-80s. In the middle of a critical juncture of my WIP, Smoke Screen, I needed a quick, nutritious bite to eat.

Considering time and weather, and stirring in the fact that I'm a lady who avoids HARD CORE COOKING whenever possible, I checked the fridge and pulled out this assortment:

A dab of left-over cold oatmeal with apples, made from one of those little paper packets.
Pristine container of ricotta.
Unblemished, picture-perfect banana.

Added vanilla extract, cinnamon, powdered ginger, and one lone Splenda.

Mixed sloppily with a sterling silver spoon.

Since J.T's new book lay beside the dish and me on the table, I thought it would be fun to dedicate the dish to my fellow thriller writer from Nashville, Tennessee.

J.T. and I have roots in Tennessee; she resides in Nashville and I lived in Sewanee for ten years and my maternal kinfolk all came from Knoxville. (And everyone knows how those Southern roots are!)

If that wasn't enough to bond, she and I both graduated from a college in Lynchburg, Virginia called Randolph-Macon.

I've been following this writer's progress since her first book came out.

I realized soon that she has "the gift."

She keeps my nose in the book long past bedtime.

Can we give a writer louder praise!!!

So, dear friends, try the J.T. Pudding.

And run, don't meander, to your corner bookshop to get your copy of A Deeper Darkness!!!

P.S. Although I've never met her, I naturally like J.T. Ellison – you see, one of my best friends at the above-named college was also named J.T., who became a Chemistry Professor at our college, then served for many years as Dean at Agnes Scott College in Georgia.

T.J. ( not J.T. ) Straw

Cooking Recipe Time

Sometimes there's nothing to be said except to put up a good recipe. Here's one of my best:

Kate's Chicken and Sausage Gumbo

(All quantities are approximate. I really don't know how I make my famous gumbo, but it is renowned all over Lambertville, and has even been praised on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, where they know good gumbo from bad.)

Flour
Cooking oil (olive oil is good, but whatever you like to cook with will do)
3 pounds chicken thighs, skin removed, dredged in flour
1 1/2 cups chopped onion
2 ribs of celery, chopped
1 big red bell pepper, chopped
4 or 5 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
1 or 2 links of smoked andouille, if available, chorizo, or other spicy smoked sausage, sliced about 1/4 inch or so thick
1 large bag of sliced frozen okra
pinch of pepper flakes
1 bay leaf
handful of chopped fresh parsley
salt to taste
chicken broth enough to cover, maybe a quart or so
cooked white rice

Brown the chicken thighs on all sides in 3 tablespoons of oil in your gumbo pot--a good-sized casserole, dutch oven, or whatever deep, heavy-bottomed pot you have--and set aside.

Cook and stir the onion, celery, and bell pepper in the oil over medium heat until the onion is translucent.

Add the garlic and cook for 1 minute more.

Meanwhile, cook the sausage slices in a frying pan until they are a bit brown and some of the fat is tried out.

Now throw the chicken and sausage in with the vegetables, add the pepper flakes, bay leaf, and parsley, dump in the okra, pour the chicken broth, stir it all up, and bring the whole thing to a simmer.

While this is happening, Make the roux:

Stir 3 tablespoons of flour into 3 tablespoons of oil in a flat, heavy-bottomed pan. Cook and stir over medium heat until the mixture is brown and pasty. Be careful not to burn yourself. It gets very hot.

Let the roux cool a bit, then whisk some of your gumbo broth into it. Stir that into the gumbo.

Simmer the gumbo, stirring occasionally and adding more broth or water if needed, until the chicken meat falls off the bones, maybe an hour or so. Shred the chicken meat and take the bones out. Add salt if needed. Serve over hot cooked white rice. (Rice takes 20 minutes, so be sure to get it on cooking 20 minutes before the gumbo is cooked.)

People like this. Try it.

Kate Gallison