Pétit Déjournal

Last week was lazy. I only amounted to making shortbread, half of which George ate in two days and the other half was given away. It was the sort of shortbread that I took a bite of, put my piece down - saving it for later, but when I went back it was gone. This week's a little more productive, there's actual food and more cookies.

- Kale & Red Pepper Strudel

- Pesto

- Bagels

- Rugelach

My heart was initially only in it for the cookies, but after having to scrounge and scramble for lunches last week I could commit to making something real this time around. Spending these Sundays making things to take for lunch, eat for snack, and sometimes even again for dinner is truly a life-saver. Without it I eat toast three times a day and call them meals, I end up snacking on more and more cake at work, I rely on milk and coffee to propel me through the day, and pasta – lots of pasta for dinner, and sometimes there's sauce.

I've never used phyllo (filo, fillo) dough for anything. It's flaky, it's used for strudels, baklava, Spanikopita. That's about the extent of what I know about it. This Kale & Red Pepper Strudel is like Spanikopita but with a different set of vegetables and cheeses. Here's what I've learned about phyllo dough: it's really thin and delicate. It's so delicate that when I unrolled the package I thought the dough was actually parchment around the dough. I can't imagine making this stuff from scratch. I've also learned that it's a bit of a pain in the ass. It's so thin it's like it almost doesn't exist. How is this not going to completely fall apart? I layed out the dough as directed: on a 10” x 14” sheet pan, and oiled between every two layers. Then I put the filling in the middle and supposedly could fold up the edges of the dough to hold in the filling and then place the rest of the dough on top like a little dough hat. This wasn't exactly the case and wasn't going to go well – I could feel it.

I finished assembling and then I made a bold move: I trusted my instincts. When I make a recipe for the first time I'm sort of stick in the mud and I like to follow the recipe – blindly trusting that whoever wrote it in the first place isn't leading me down a path of frustration to disappointment. I like to think that following the written recipe will give me a basic understanding of what's supposed to happen and how things are supposed to go, and then, armed with that knowledge I can make whatever it is better. (Yes, I believe I can make it better. Every. Single. Time.) Today, though, I deviated. The dough was only 9” x 13”, it wasn't folding up over the filling well, it was absolutely going to spill out all over the pan and burn and be ugly. It wasn't going to happen on my watch, not today. I buttered my 9” x 13” Pyrex, I place it over the assembled strudel and flipped it all over. That's right, I put it into a smaller pan with taller edges than the recipe told me to.

This is the larger lesson I've been working on lately: to trust myself. It's like baking cake (everything is like baking cake for me, these days,) regardless of how long that carrot cake's been in the oven if the knife comes out with a few crumbs and it doesn't spring back when I gently press on the top – it's not done. If I can't remember whether the vegan pumpkin cupcakes should get a little more than one scoop or not but am pretty they should because the vegan chocolate cupcakes do – they probably do. If the cassaroley thing looks like it's going to turn into a huge cheesey mess if left on the baking sheet that the recipe told me to use – it's probably going to turn into a huge cheesey mess. After cooking for myself for 10 years, I'm proud to say that I've learned a few things, things I trust and know to be true from experience.

Maybe it was the pesto making that set me up for the crazy move to use a different pan than specified. The temperatures in Asheville are reaching down in the 30s at night and while we've been neglecting the garden for a least a month, George was good enough to harvest the rest of basil before it was too late. We had about 10 cups of basil and no recollection of which pesto recipe we used last time, I just knew it was really good and it wasn't from The Moosewood or Joy. We then assumed it was from Best Recipes in the World, but pesto wasn't even in the index. I told George he was in charge of the pesto and to make it however he liked. I was nervous, trying to be helpful without being a squasher*. It was difficult. In the end, I'm happy to say that the pesto turned out deliciously.

Pesto

10 c. fresh basil leaves

2/3 c. pine nuts

1/3 c. walnuts

1 c. grated Parmesan

1 c. olive oil

salt to taste

Put everything except the oil into a food processor, pulse a few times to start combining the ingredients. Turn the processor on and add the oil through the feed tube stopping to scrape down the sides if necessary.

So the rugelach. It's a Jewish cookie which is more like a pastry. Butter and cream cheese are cut into the flour and there's a little wet (I used half & half) to hold it together. It's rolled out and chilled in the freezer for half an hour - a crucial part, I assure you. After it's good and cold, cinnamon and sugar are sprinkled on, followed by chopped walnuts, sometimes raisins, sometimes chocolate, I used almonds. Next you roll the dough up into a swirly, cinnamony log and cut each cookie about an inch wide and chill them in the freezer for another 15 minutes - a crucial part, I assure you. It's like making the pie dough flaky - the cold butter serves as a place holder for the air space between the layers of flour. If the butter is allowed to melt into the flour prematurely the cookies will come out flatter and sadder, but just as tasty.

(I was going to take a picture showing the difference between cookies chilled long and enough and not long enough, but we ate all the sad ones first.)

* squasher: one who prevents fun