Holiday Foods, with an Asian influence

I was assigned Christmas Eve dinner at the Tarr household (my standby locale for the winter holiday season). Growing up, Christmas Eve meant going to church and then eating clam chowder, so my mind automatically went to the happy soup-and-salad place. I like light food the day before Christmas, and even when my night in the kitchen got bumped from Christmas Eve to the night before the night before Christmas, I stuck with that idea.

I meant to serve minted goat cheese (with a hint of lemon zest) on whole grain baguette with pomegranate seeds as an appetizer, but that ended up paired with the second/soup course (see below). It was delicious -- I highly recommend you start mashing fresh herbs into your goat cheese on a regular basis.

Instead, we started with the salad. I have no photos of this salad because I was too busy making a three-course meal for five to document the results, but I am going to tell you about it anyways. I've never told you about my obsession with poached eggs, have I? Pity. It is real and it is encompassing, and it is largely unsatisfied. I have yet to poach an egg well. Still the quest continues, and the interest has yet to wane. So as I was planning this Christmas Eve-Eve salad, I started with the idea of a perfectly poached egg resting on top of some lightly dressed bitter greens (in this case, frisée, watercress, and a bit of arugula). After considerable deliberation I also threw in some edamame, roasted shitaake mushrooms, kalamata olives, and fontina croutons.

The dressing was the real star but I can't exactly tell you what was in it. I'd like to pretend that's because it's top-secret, classified information, but in fact I put so many ingredients into it that I don't exactly remember all of them. I know there was sherry vinegar, olive oil, tahini, pumpkin butter, black sesame seeds, and tamari, and that I may start a new love affair with the humble whisk.

The soup was a pile of roasted tomatoes, garlic, red peppers, and sage, pureed and simmered with a bit of vegetable stock, a splash of almond milk, and plenty of cajun seasoning (cayenne, smoked paprika, lemon pepper, onion powder, and sea salt). I left a little surprise of roasted chickpeas in the bottom of each bowl, and finished it off with a few more fontina croutons and some parsley.

And finally, for dessert I made almond meringues, which were perfect for dipping in Mexican hot chocolate (a favorite) made with almond milk, lactose-free cocoa powder, cinnamon, cardamom, chipotle powder, and brandy.

And now I hang my metaphorical apron until Friday. I find it fortunate that although I despise Christmas, my ladyfriend's day of birth happens to be the day after the big day. As long as I can find crab and artichokes there should be a stellar post coming your way this weekend...

X-Mas

A two-part culinary festival by N., A., and Me.
Christmas Eve:



Roasted vegetable terrines with goat cheese and pine nuts (N)
Curried carrot soup with croutons and yogurt (N)


Beet latkes with rice vinegar and yogurt (A)


Pistachio souffles (Me)

Cranberry-almond (-orange-white-chocolate) biscotti (not pictured due to excessive nibbling) (A)



Christmas Evening:


Artichoke-olive galette with feta and pine nuts (Me)


Truffled arancini with peas on endive (N)
Roasted asparagus (N)

Beets with citrus vinaigrette (N)
Mashed potatoes and mushroom gravy (See below) (A/Me)


Pine nut torte with citrus caramel and kumquats (N)

***

The mushroom gravy was my favorite part, surprisingly. It's a vegetarian/vegan classic:
+Saute onions or shallots in oil
+Add mushrooms and brown
+Add (LOTS of white) wine, some vegetable stock, and some soy sauce
+Season to taste (I like onion powder and a little rosemary)
+Thicken with flour and/or corn starch

NB: I tried pureeing it at Thanksgiving, but I definitely prefer it chunky--cleaner flavors, more palatable texture, and more appetizing aromas.

I don't really know how the galette turned out--it was pretty, but my taste buds were a little confused and no one made any comments on it (which is generally a bad sign). The risotto was delicious but the arancini cooled a bit before we ate it, which sort of muffled the flavors and muddled the consistency. And the torte was tasty, but all that dairy was less than kosher for my poor little stomach. Luckily, the spiked soy nog saved the day...

Holiday Foods

The holidays are here, and so are holiday foods. One classic holiday food: roasted chestnuts. I attempted to recreate this classic, first boiling the chestnuts a bit to soften the skins, then scoring them (so as to prevent oven explosions), then roasting them in a 425 oven for 10-15 minutes. They were...pretty gross. One member of our little party might even say "REALLY gross, yuck, yuck, yuck." I think perhaps the boiling was not the best idea, as the predominate flavor I identified was "boiled peanuts." But how else can you score them? Etc. I now have a pan of badly roasted chestnuts demanding a purpose. Ideas thus far include chestnut pancakes, chestnut sauce for (soy) ice cream, chestnut sauce for my vegetable galettes, and chestnuts-in-the-garbage.

Other mainstream holiday foods include ham, fruitcake, egg nog, potato pancakes, plum pudding, Yorkshire pudding, almond roca, Ferrero Rocher, creamed vegetables, green bean casserole, truffles, and champagne.

Few of these foods are included in my own alimentary associations with the holidays. I think of grapefruits, shipped every year from Texas by Aunt Lucille (who was really great-Aunt Lucille). Colin Street Bakery fruit cake from Aunt Barbara (a legitimate aunt), and Harry and David pears for grandma, from my dad (which would reach the pinnacle of their ripeness simultaneously, necessitating a deluge of pear-eating over the 48-hour window of pear perfection). Uncle Terry's ubiquitous snacks of salami, cheese, crackers, olives, and mixed nuts (on the good years, just cashews). My father's stocking stuffers of Power Bars, which would actually be palatable after hanging in the stockings above the fire; my grandmother's more traditional stocking stuffers of clementines and Hershey's kisses (and, fittingly, toothbrushes). A. laughed at me this year when I cracked open a bottle of Johnny Walker, inhaled the alcoholic fumes, and reported, "This smells like Christmas!"--a byproduct of years of sniffing, disdainfully, grandma's somewhat related scotch-on-the-rocks.

Last year I was in southern California with A., and we had a proper southern Californian Christmas weekend, complete with fish tacos; this year fish tacos were one of the few things she mentioned missing. My roommate, from western Pennsylvania, has mentioned sundry gelatin-based salads and desserts, which she defended rather forcefully. My favorite little jew mentioned potato pancakes, unsurprising after her enthusiasm throughout our expedition to Zabar's in NYC.

I suppose the ultimate rubric for a "holiday food" relates to your memories of the holidays: personal meaning, tradition, ritual, and the like. And I think this might be why holiday foods hold such a dear place in so many of our hearts and palates--I think in many ways Americans are ritual-starved, and we cherish and savor those we do have, particularly those that are enforced in our national culture (but don't get me started on how exclusive and oppressive Christmas-as-a-national-holiday is in my eyes). Despite my opposition, the traditions of Christmas still remind me of home, comfort, community, and sharing. Which may actually be part of the opposition. Ah well, there's plenty of good food.