If you are like me, you always offer to bring something when invited to someone’s house.  I mean the offer, I always love an opportunity to cook for people, but sometimes it’s hard to come up with a quick idea on the fly. And when it’s one of those roaming parties – not a seated affair – choosing a dish that doesn’t have to be kept hot or cold or require and special equipment adds to the challenge.  I tend to fall back on the same recipes, but I recently wanted to add one to my repertoire – after all, it gets to be the same people at parties, right?  These little Fig and Blue Cheese bites are easy but very elegant, and the surprising tart and tangy with sweet combination is a real treat.

Blue Cheese and Fig Savories

You’ll find fig preserves at the grocery – it may be shelved with the “fancy” jams and jellies. You can make these a day ahead and keep them in two layers separated by waxed paper in an airtight container.

1 cup all-purpose flour

½ cup (1 stick) butter, room temperature

4 ounces blue cheese, crumbled

Ground black pepper

Fig preserves (about 3 Tablespoons)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Place the flour, butter, blue cheese and a few grinds of black pepper in the bowl of a food processor.  Process until the dough just comes together and starts to form a ball.

Dump the dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead a few times to pull the dough together. Roll out to 1/8 inch thick with a floured rolling pin.  Cut rounds out of the dough with a floured 1-inch cutter and transfer the rounds to the parchment-lined baking sheet.

Using the back or a round half-teaspoon measure or your knuckle, make an indention in the top of each dough round.  Spoon about ¼ teaspoon of fig preserves into each indention, using your finger to push the preserves as best as possible into the indentions.

Bake the savories for 10 – 14 minutes, until the preserves are bubbling and the pastry is light golden on the bottom.

Let cool on the baking sheet for at least 10 minutes, the remove to a wire rack to cool.

Makes about 3 dozen

When I was growing up in Memphis, there were really only two fancy, sit-down, white tablecloth, special occasion restaurants.  An old-school, white-jacketed waiter, New Orleans-style place and an elegant Chinese restaurant.  My Dad is a big fan of Chinese food, so it was his choice for special meals.  My brother and I loved the egg drop soup, which had tiny little carrots floating in it cut in the shapes of ducks and bunnies.  The owner told my mom that the chef carved the whole carrot into the shape and thinly sliced the whole into paper-thin floaters.  To this day, as my kitchen obsession grows, my mother frequently asks when I plan to learn to properly carve carrot bunnies.

I was probably twelve or thirteen before any other Chinese restaurant opened, and we ate there a lot.  Sesame Chicken, Egg Drop Soup, Fried Wontons, Lemon Chicken, Mongolian Beef, Mu Shu Pork.  The standard fare in this area, on the menus of the many subsequent Chinese restaurants to open.  When I went off to college in Connecticut, my friends and I ordered Chinese food from the local, college-friendly delivery joint.  This group of folks were all from the New England and they took over the ordering, choosing their standard choice of dishes.  When we laid it all out on the floor of the dorm room, I was flummoxed.  Everyone was digging in heartily and I didn’t recognize some of the dishes.  Sure beef and broccoli was there, but I’d never seen cold sesame noodles (now one of my favorites) or dumplings before.  It had never occurred to me that ethnic food could be regional not just in its country of origin but in its transplanted incarnation as well. 

Dumplings have made their way onto Chinese menus in Memphis as totally standard fare now.  My nieces are big fans.  It never crossed my mind that dumplings were something you might make at home until I stumbled across a magazine article about the process.  I didn’t save the article, but it stuck with me for weeks until I just had to try it for myself.  I use packaged dumpling wrappers and make a flavorful filling.  I like to make a big batch and freeze them to pull out and cook when I’m in the mood.  I have to say, I am rather impressed with myself for this accomplishment.

Chinese Dumplings

1 pound ground pork

1 medium carrot finely grated

4 green onions, finely chopped

1 teaspoon grated fresh ginger

2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped

1 teaspoon Chinese five spice

1 Tablespoon soy sauce

½ teaspoon ground Szechuan peppercorns (optional)

1 package wonton or dumpling wrappers

Place all the filling ingredients in a large bowl and mix thoroughly.  Your clean hands are the best tool for this.

I find it easiest here to set up a little assembly line. Place a small bowl of water in easy reach. Lay some of the wonton wrappers out on the counter, and place about a teaspoon of filling in the center of each wrapper.  Wet your finger with water and run it around the edge of the wrapper.  Fold the wrapper over the filling and press the edges together, pressing any air bubbles out and sealing completely.  Keep going until you have used up all the filling. You should end up with 35 – 40 dumplings.

Place the folded dumplings on a baking sheet or plates lined with waxed paper.  Place the dumplings in the freezer until solid, at least an hour, then transfer to a plastic freezer bag or container.  I like to divide into portions of six or seven dumplings in individual bags.

There are several ways to prepare these dumplings: 

For fried dumplings: Thaw the dumplings in the fridge. Heat about 1 inch of vegetable oil in a skillet and fry the dumplings until crispy and golden. Remove the dumplings to a paper towel lined plate to drain and serve with soy or ponzu sauce to dip.

For pan-fried dumplings:  Thaw the dumplings or cook from frozen.  For each 6 – 7 dumplings, bring 1 ½ cups of chicken broth and one tablespoon of oil to a boil.  Add the dumplings and continue to cook until the broth has evaporated.  The dumplings will cook and brown on the bottom in the residual oil.

Makes 35- 40 dumplings

In the many years I was planning events professionally, clients hosting lavish buffets, or even rather simple ones, always came around to that one question – “Shouldn’t we serve some kind of vegetable that’s, you know, healthy?” Not creamy spinach dip, or cheesy stuffed mushrooms, but something that would presumably appease the guest who didn’t want, well, food. Caterers were full of suggestions, but it always seemed to come back to the old stand-by – the crudités tray.  Cut vegetables surrounding a bowl of dip.  Easy – and cheap.  Some caterers made these vegetable trays absolute works of art, with a variety of veg in beautiful colors with a choice of fresh-made dips.  But the truth was invariably that this tray of food was never empty at the end of the event.  And we always cleaned up lots of plates with a stray carrot or broccoli floret in a puddle of dip sitting next to the crumpled up napkin.  People go through the buffet line and put some vegetables on their plate to look virtuous, but never actually eat them. And despite many efforts, it was virtually impossible to convince a client that this stab at virtue was unnecessary.  After a long night on my feet at an event, I never got to have any leftovers of the good stuff, but was always welcome to as much raw veg as I could carry.

And I am guilty of this behavior myself.  When entertaining at home, I’d plan a spectacular spread of rich and delicious foods, then right at the end feel guilty for not offering anything “light”, so outcome the pre-cut vegetables and fat-free yogurt based dip.  I even once put the crudités tray on my beautiful buffet, but thought it ruined the look that I had so carefully constructed and put it back in the fridge.  I, in fact, think that the success of the “baby” carrot (really just whole carrots cut to look like miniature versions) was built on buffet guilt.

So this recipe was born of an overabundance of baby carrots, left over after a pitiful attempt to healthify a party spread.  Roasting the carrots and using carrot juice make this an intensely flavored soup.  I actually prefer canned 100% carrot juice or the kind that comes in tetrapack boxes from the juice aisle at the store to the refrigerated variety, which I find a bit sweet and expensive.  If you can’t find any of these, low-sodium vegetable stock will work. You can, of course, use an equal weight of peeled whole carrots cut into chunks.

Roasted Carrot and Cumin Soup

Scatter a little chopped fresh cilantro over the soup if you’d like to add a dash of color. This is particularly good accompanied by toast slathered with cream cheese.

1 (16 ounce) bag baby carrots

1 large shallot, cut into wedges

1 Tablespoon olive oil

2 ¾ cup 100% carrot juice

1 ½ teaspoons ground cumin

1 teaspoon ground coriander

½ teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 ½ teaspoons kosher salt (or to taste)

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Toss the carrots and the shallot in the olive oil and spread in one layer in a rimmed baking sheet.  Roast for 45 minutes to one hour, until the carrots are soft, wrinkled and browned in places and the shallot is lightly browned.

Transfer the carrots and shallots to a blender, and add half of the carrot juice, the spices and the salt.  Puree until smooth, scraping down the sides of the carafe if needed.  Add the remaining juice and puree until smooth and combined.

Pour the contents into a saucepan and heat over medium heat until warmed through.

Makes 2 large bowls or 4 small ones

There are certain activities that anyone in any particular town, city, state or region is expected to have participated in.  Wouldn’t you be surprised by someone living in Hawaii who had never been to the beach?  Or shocked by a resident of Paris who had never even seen the Eiffel Tower?

Well, I have one of those surprising confessions.  I have never been to an SEC football game. You would not believe the looks of shock and horror that cross the faces of people who hear this tragic tale. I have only in fact been to one college football game, and that was freshman year at my small school in Connecticut, and to be honest, that’s not really the same thing.  It’s not that I have an issue or a problem with big-time college football, the opportunity has just never presented itself (and yes, I will be expecting some invitations after this).  As a point of fact, I have never been to a professional football game either.

In the past few weeks, a number of people have told me that I should write a post about tailgating.  Not just one person.  Several.  I smiled and said what a good idea that would be, knowing that it was highly unlikely.  I have never tailgated.  I don’t really know exactly what’s involved. 

The last person to suggest that I write about tailgating was my aunt, and she had some constructive advice.  She recently dug up one of my old standby recipes for a great fall appetizer and took it to an outdoor, all day party.  She told me it would make a perfect tailgating recipe. And I trust my aunt.  Of course, this is a great appetizer for any fall occasion, even if you are watching the game in front of the TV.

So here it goes, a hearty, fall appetizer that is often described as one men love.  I don’t know why particularly.  Or why that’s relevant.  Many of the rabid football followers I know are women.  But this dish holds well, just keep it covered tightly and transport the dish in a thermal carrier or wrapped in a towel for insulation. Its good at room temperature as well.

Glazed Kielbasa

Use a good quality kielbasa and your favorite mustard.  You can also replace the bourbon with Calvados or brandy.

1 pound kielbasa

1 cup white wine or vermouth

2 Tablespoons light brown sugar

2 Tablespoons Dijon mustard or coarse grain mustard

2 Tablespoons bourbon

Cut the kielbasa into ½ inch slices, then each slice into halves.  Arrange the kielbasa in one layer in a large skillet.  Pour over the wine and bring to a boil over medium high heat.  Cook until the wine is almost all evaporated, about 12 minutes, stirring occasionally.

When the wine is all but gone, stir in the brown sugar, mustard and bourbon. Cook for about three minutes longer, stirring constantly.  The kielbasa pieces should be coated with a syrupy glaze.

Transfer the kielbasa to a serving platter and serve with cocktail picks.

Serves 8 – 10

I love figs.  Fresh and dried, black, brown or green.  But I admit I am not that creative with their use.  I snap them up when I see them, but often can’t seem to move past wrapping them in prosciutto or roasting them draped with bacon.  But eventually, one batch of figs ended up, after much thought, candied.  I was, if I may say, quite pleased with the result.  Sweet, treacly, syrupy figs that are great on their own, but also make an amazing accompaniment to good vanilla ice cream, or tangy Greek yogurt.  And candied figs are a stunning partner on a plate of salty, rich, creamy cheeses, maybe with a few walnuts on the platter as well.

about 10 – 12 fresh black figs

2 cups sugar

2 ½ cups water

Wipe the figs with a damp paper towel to clean. In a medium saucepan, the size to hold the figs in one layer covered by the liquid, stir together the sugar and 2 cups water.  Bring to a low boil, reduce heat to a simmer and stir until the sugar has dissolved.  Drop in the figs, bring back to a low boil, then reduce to the heat to medium-low, cover the pan, and simmer the figs for 1 ½ hours, stirring occasionally.  Remove the figs from the heat and leave overnight in the covered pan.  The sugar syrup may crystallize, which is fine.

The next day, add the remaining ½ cup water and bring the figs in syrup back up to a simmer, stirring occasionally, for 20 minutes. Add more water if needed to keep the syrup a loose, maple syrup consistency.  Remove from the heat to cool, before placing in a jar, covered with the syrup. Figs will keep tightly sealed up to a week.  If the syrup crystallizes, heat over low heat with a splash of water to thin.

The Watermelon on the Side of the Road

Watermelon means summer, right?  I know they are available (though not very good) all year round now, but what is more summery than ice-cold juicy watermelon?  Pink juice dribbles down your chin, and even your mama doesn’t mind too much when you spit the seeds.

When I was a kid at summer camp, we used to have races in the pool with a big ol’ watermelon, teams trying to bat the melon down the length of the pool.  When I was old enough, and purely legal mind you, we would spike a melon.  That is to say, cut out a plug and stuff a bottle of vodka or rum in the hole to soak in, then we’d eat the slices.  This skill put me in good stead both at college in Connecticut and at grad school in England.

In the summer in the South, the best watermelons come from the side of the road.  Men in well-worn pickup trucks pull up on country highways and sell big, striped green watermelons from the bed, just picked out the patch that morning, still warm from the sun. I can’t always find one of these watermelon men when I need a melon, but I search them out and always stop when I see a sign, handwritten on a piece of cardboard box. 

Though big slices of watermelon are still my favorite way to chow down, I also love those carved watermelon baskets full of little balls of melon, though I can’t imagine myself ever taking on such a project.  When I have a wedge of melon in the fridge, the chunk leftover after a party or a piece I cut and put by for myself, I tend to just pop off a chunk with a spoon every time I open the fridge until there’s nothing but some dog-eared rind left.  But I have gotten somewhat more sophisticated, frequently mixing cubes of bright pink watermelon with salty feta cheese and fine green mint picked from the garden.  And when I am really feeling fancy, I make this magnificent cold soup.

Southern Summer Gazpacho

4 pounds seedless watermelon, rind removed, cut into chunks (about 7 cups)

½ cup firmly packed fresh mint leaves

1 cup blanched slivered almonds

3 garlic cloves

4 slices white sandwich bread, crusts removed

2 Tablespoons red wine vinegar

¼ cup olive oil

1 teaspoon kosher salt

In a blender, place the mint leaves topped by the watermelon chunks and puree.  This may need to be done in batches.  Strain the watermelon puree through a wire mesh strainer into a pitcher or large bowl, scraping on the solids to extract as much liquid as possible and to remove any stray seeds.

 In the blender, puree almonds, garlic, red wine vinegar and salt.  Tear the bread into small chunks and place in blender with about 1 cup of watermelon puree.  Puree until smooth, adding olive oil in a slow steady stream and watermelon puree (as much as the blender will hold).  Pour this gazpacho mixture into the remaining watermelon puree and stir until thoroughly blended. Refrigerate until ready to serve.

Serves 6 – 8

Watermelon Sparkler

Feel free to add a splash of white rum or vodka

8 cups chopped watermelon, with seed removed

one 12 ounce can frozen pink lemonade concentrate, undiluted

juice of two limes

2 (25 ounce) bottles lime flavored sparkling water

In a blender, process watermelon and lemonade concentrate until smooth.  This may need to be done in two batches.  Pout puree into pitchers.  When ready to serve, stir in sparkling water.  Serve immediately over ice.  Garnish with lime slices.

Makes 14 cups

The Watermelon Truck

In Memphis, in the summer (and the spring and the fall), it is hot.  Devil-hot. Over 100 degrees most days with high, high humidity.  When you open the door first thing in the morning, it’s like walking into a wall of cotton candy.  Hot, thick air that surrounds you.  Many, many days, busy days when you’re out and about, its just to hot to consider cranking up the oven or standing over a hot stove. I love to have a cold soup in the fridge to enjoy for dinner.

It has always surprised me that there is a real lack of cold soup on local menus and at prepared food stores.  I remember a hot August day some years ago, I stopped by a place that offered a selection of pre-made dishes to take home.  It was 100 and blank degrees outside and so humid my lipstick melted off, and the soups on offer were chili and French onion.  Really?

My mom is a big cold soup fan.  She makes it herself, but also keeps a can of prepared vichyssoise in the fridge.  She used to keep jellied consommé, which I always thought was disgusting.  Meat Jell-o.   But she was right on the mark with cold soups during the hot months.  As things heat up here, I am sure a few cold soup recipes will pop up in my repertoire.

I’ll admit, there’s nothing new or exciting or revolutionary about this recipe.  It’s just the way I make the most classic of the cold soups.  It’s elegant enough to serve to company, but keeps in the fridge for several days to provide no-work lunch and dinner options during the hot-hot days.

Vichyssoise

Cold Potato and Leek Soup

2 pounds leeks (about three medium), sliced to yield about 4 cups

2 Tablespoons butter

12 ounces white potatoes, about 2 medium, peeled

2 cups water

4 cups (32 ounces) low-sodium chicken broth

Sea salt

1 cup heavy cream

Chopped chives to garnish

Slice the white and lightest green parts of the leeks into halves lengthwise, then into thin half moons.  Place the leek slices in a strainer submerged in a bowl of water and shake around a bit to loosen any dirt.  Let the leeks sit for a few minutes while you melt the butter in a large Dutch oven over medium heat. Remove the strainer and shake out excess water.  Drop the leeks into the pot and stir.  Sauté until soft and translucent, about 8 minutes.  Do no let the leeks brown.  While the leeks are softening, chop the peeled potatoes into small chunks.  Add to the cooked leeks with the water, broth and a good sprinkling of salt.  Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce the heat to medium – low, cover and simmer for 25 – 30 minutes until the potatoes and leeks are very soft.  Remove the pot from the heat and leave to cool for a few minutes.

Puree the soup in batches in a blender, filling the blender about half-full each time. Be very careful as the hot liquid can make the top pop off.  Remove the center cap and hold the top with a dish towel.  Pour each pureed batch into a bowl.  When all the soup is pureed, whisk in the cream.  Cover the bowl loosely and refrigerate for at least two hours but preferably overnight.  Taste for salt and season before serving, garnished with chopped chives.

Serves 6 – 8