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Eggs à l’Oignon and a Defense of Food Bloggers

I want you to know just if you can / where I stand. / Tell myself that a new day is rising, / get on the rise. / A new day is dawning; / here I am.

Bob Marley’s voice is currently trickling out of the speakers of the deli I visit once a week or so. The reggae beat floats down to meet black and white tile, rain-stained windows, a soda fountain.

Tonight’s dinner was half a tuna salad sandwich and a cup of hot soup. I finished it a few minutes ago and I’m now paying only occasional attention to my Coke Zero while I compose this post.

Marley’s words come at an apt time, because I want to tell you about where I stand. The International Association of Culinary Professionals’ website just published an incendiary (but nothing new, actually, and nothing unexpected) opinion article by Amy Reiley that charged food bloggers with “faking it”: faking the recipe development, food journalism, and cooking expertise that the culinary industry is supposedly painstakingly cultivating.

Essentially, upon realizing that food bloggers are not testing their recipes dozens of times but are still being employed by companies to create recipes (like this one I created for McCormick — and tested, by the way — that is flippin’ awesome and you should make immediately), Reiley decided that food blogging represents a “dumbing down” of food culture. The IACP has since published a piece noting that these are solely Reiley’s opinions and don’t reflect the view of the association as a whole, saying, “OBVIOUSLY, at the end day, it isn’t really the medium that matters, but the work itself” (okay, I added the OBVIOUSLY part. But really!)

I say this is nothing new because the article is doing the same thing the Marie Claire article about health food bloggers was doing a year ago. The same thing Mario Batali was doing when he discussed food bloggers on Eater. That is, trying to discredit a medium that seems like an imminent threat to their fancy-official-cooking-people-ness. They have everything to gain from doing so, but it’s not going to work (unless bloggers shoot themselves in the foot; more on this later) because real people love hearing from other real people about food.

Here’s why Amy Reiley is wrong about food writing and the role blogging plays in it:

1. Real people have always shared food ideas with other real people — blogs just make it more convenient.

People visit major cooking websites, read cooking magazines, visit restaurants, and watch cooking shows to have enjoyable food experiences. But they also talk to other people to share ideas — and they always have. When I started cooking, I called my mom for ideas and received recipes from grandparents, friends, and coworkers. But blogging means that instead of limiting my personal culinary network to our friends and family, I can now search an extended network of personal ideas and experiences. I have hundreds of blogs on my regular reading rotation and I can’t imagine how limited my exposure to food and ideas would be without them.

2. People don’t go to blogs for rigorously tested recipes. They go to blogs for carefully created recipes that, from the blogger’s perspective, are worth trying.

When I log onto Suzie’s blog and she shares her creation, I know that her standard for how much testing needs to be done before publishing a recipe might be different than America’s Test Kitchen, but if I love Suzie’s personality, have similar food preferences, and think she’s creating neat recipes, I might want to try her ideas anyway. If I try something that doesn’t work for me, I can choose to try again or to stop visiting Suzie’s site. Or even better, I can let Suzie know what happened and we can troubleshoot it together, thus improving both of our culinary experiences — because Suzie is a real person just like me.

This is no different than if my Aunt Matilda made up a killer recipe and shared it with me at our last board game night. I’m not going to tell Aunt Matilda to stop sharing her awesome creations with me unless she’s tested the recipe 5 times, and I’m not going to tell Suzie that either. I get recipes from America’s Test Kitchen sometimes, and I get recipes from Aunt Matilda sometimes (well not really, because I made Aunt Matilda up, but you get the idea) — and they both play an important role in my culinary life.

3. Blogs provide something that food journalism, cooking shows, restaurants, and commercial test kitchens do not.

People know that when they visit blogs, they’re getting personal cooking wisdom that’s not produced by a company. If people only wanted recipes, blogs wouldn’t be so popular. Folks would just grab a cookbook or log onto Food Network’s website and be done with it. But sometimes people want more than that: they want a relationship with a person. They want to get to know you through your writing, hear your personal experiences with the dish, or take part in the community you create on your blog. They want to enjoy social networking with bloggers they love (Joy the Baker’s tweets regularly make my day.) They want to discuss what to do with Maple Balsamic Vinegar on your Facebook page. They want you to show off the awesome cake they made (the first they’d ever made from scratch!)

They might also want personal attention. I troubleshooted a pie with a lovely reader for her Memorial Day celebration today, and I can honestly say that I don’t think Mario Batali’s gonna bother emailing you back about that lasagna you have in the oven.

4. You don’t get to dictate what someone else wants from their food experiences.

In a recent article cataloging a few chefs’ opinions on food photography in restaurants, most chefs seemed to realize that guests get to choose, as long as they aren’t infringing on the rights of others, what they want from their evening. If this means taking a bad instagram photo of the dishes they ate and posting them in an album called, “GoOd EaTz!!” on Facebook, so be it. R.J. Cooper was the only chef who seemed to think he knew his guests’ goals for the evening, and as a result, he came off sounding pretty pompous: “You’re there for the dining experience with your companion, not to take photos of food.”

The truth is, R.J. Cooper doesn’t get to decide what you’re there for. Maybe you’re in his restaurant because you can’t wait to try a certain dish on his menu. Maybe you’re there to catch a glance of the jerkazoid who justified his hatred of restaurant photography by saying that it makes your dinner take too long and hurts his bottom line (he really said that!) Maybe you’re there because the sparkly disco decor reminds you of those awesome go-go boots you used to own (full disclosure: I have no idea how Rogue 24 is decorated — and don’t ever intend to visit — but disco is doubtful.)

Just like Cooper doesn’t have a stranglehold on diners’ opinions, “culinary professionals” don’t have a stranglehold on eaters’ opinions. They don’t get to decide that people only want recipes that have been tested dozens of times (or even that companies do — companies have realized, finally, that people enjoy hearing from bloggers). Each person can decide for themselves what information they’re interested in consuming.

5. Democratization always lets in “riff raff,” but the influx of amazing ideas is so worth it.

There are people with fantastic ideas that haven’t had the money, time, or life circumstances to become a “culinary professional.” We love the shows where hometown cooks try out to be the Next Food Star Master Cook and always root for the underdog. Until that underdog gets a blog and starts claiming they actually know what they’re talking about, that is.

The truth is, lots of people have great ideas and everyone deserves to share theirs. This does mean some silly ideas — maybe even a lot of silly ideas! — will find their way into a public forum. But first of all, there already were a lot of silly ideas, mostly thanks to companies that cared more about profit than about health, food, or people. Second, people are allowed to choose which ideas they want to pay attention to. If they do choose to pay attention to the pumpkin dump cake that uses a cake mix and a can of pumpkin instead of your religiously tested croquembouche, that’s their right. (Not to mention that I’ve tried plenty of those religiously tested recipes that ended up sucking. Just sayin’.)

6. We’re still gonna visit those “culinary professionals'” restaurants, read their books, subscribe to their magazines, value their carefully tested recipes, etc.

Blogs won’t stop people from paying “culinary professionals.” We think they’re kind of cute when they’re all angry and fussing about people stealing jobs. But more importantly, we’ll still care about their work because we love food, and just like blogs play a valuable piece in the food puzzle, they do too! We love those crazy “professionals” and all of their compulsive testing (here’s looking at you, ATK), fancy affirmations and accolades, and expensive equipment.

I’m being slightly tongue-in-cheek, here, though, because the truth is, plenty of bloggers are as professional as any “professional.” Plenty do test recipes repeatedly, plenty have written books, plenty have been to culinary school or worked in the culinary industry in other capacities. And those of us who haven’t are still pretty crafty.

Now for the caveat. There is a way that food bloggers can inadvertently justify Reiley’s concerns: by forgetting our place and our role, and pretending to be something we’re not. More and more bloggers are concerned with their “brand” and merging the world of blogging and business. To an extent, there’s nothing wrong with that; this is a business, even for me, and I’m concerned about maintaining the right image for Willow Bird Baking. I’m flippin’ overjoyed that I can get paid to create recipes, share stories, and host a little meeting place here for all of us. But I have to remember that my “business” is to be a real person communicating with other real people.

This means I won’t sacrifice my honest relationship with my readers for the sake of partnering with a business. It means I won’t represent myself as a “culinary professional” in any sense that’s misleading to readers. They’ll know that they’re getting simple recipes from a creative home cook in Charlotte, NC, and not from Cook’s Illustrated. I won’t mention products or companies that don’t fit in this space for the sake of getting paid. And I also won’t turn down products and companies that should show up in this space due to lack of payment. I’ll share with readers what I’d appreciate being shared with me as someone who loves food, loves people and their passionate endeavors, and loves honest discourse.

Basically, bloggers need to be real people, not businesses parading as real people (and not real people parading as businesses.) As long as we’re all honest about our experience and our culinary viewpoint, I think we should let the public decide on their own who’s “faking it” and who’s not. Deal? Deal.

In keeping with the spirit of this post, here’s a homey little recipe I made up for Mike and have made a few times since then. It’s a pantry meal packed with a mellow, gorgeous onion flavor and a creamy secret ingredient — mayonnaise! Don’t shy away if you’re not a mayo fan; it lends the slightest tanginess and a gorgeous texture to the dish that I think you’ll love.

I’ve “tested” this recipe in my own kitchen a few times, and I hope it works for you, too! If not, let me know, and we’ll fix it together while Mario Batali is out being too fancy to respond to your emails. Okay?

One year ago: (Freshly Picked!) Strawberry Cream Pie
Two years ago: Caramel Cream Croquembouche

Eggs à l’Oignon


Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking
Yield: 2 servings

These eggs begin with aromatic minced shallots and garlic sautéed in butter. Mayonnaise lends a slight tanginess and a gorgeous texture after cooking, and the green onions sprinkled on top round out the delicate onion flavor. You’ll love these for breakfast or even as a quick, simple dinner, which is how Mike and I enjoyed them.

Ingredients:
4 eggs
2 tablespoons heavy cream
salt and pepper to taste
2 teaspoons minced garlic
1 tablespoon minced shallot
1 1/2 tablespoons mayonnaise (Hellmann’s, preferably)
1 tablespoon butter
green onions and a sprinkling of Parmesan cheese for topping

Directions:
Whisk eggs, cream, salt, and pepper together in a medium bowl. Heat a large skillet over medium-high heat and melt the butter in it. Add the garlic and shallots and sauté for about 30 seconds or until very fragrant. Pour in eggs and scramble them, removing them to a plate when they appear just slightly moist (they will finish cooking on the plate). Smear them with mayonnaise and Parmesan cheese and mix them to combine. Top with green onions and serve immediately.

Other great pieces on food blogging that you should read:
In Defense of Food Blogging on Amateur Gourmet
Are Food Bloggers ‘Faking It?’ on Lighter and Local

If you liked this post, please:
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Sweet Tater & Chorizo Hand Tarts

In light of Willow Bird Baking’s Cooking Hard Stuff Challenge, I’ll be sharing some tips for tackling new or challenging recipes throughout the month of March. If you haven’t signed on for the challenge yet, make sure you read about it and join in the fun — there are still a few days left!

Cooking Hard Stuff Tip #3: Make a schedule.


two sweet tater hand tart options

In college, my personality type changed. According to the Meyers-Briggs Personality Type Indicator, I went from an INFP to an INFJ. That tells you all sorts of things about me (maybe too much), but that little switch from P to J also tells you a lot about Davidson College, where I went to school. Davidson can make a P into a J in one semester flat (and the café can make a good PB&J, too, while we’re throwing letters around.)

P means “perceiving,” which means you make decisions and act while taking in information. P people present themselves as more spontaneous, since they like to continually take in new information and adapt to it. J people are “judging” (not judgmental!), which means they prefer to take in information and make a decision before acting. These people present themselves as more rigid and organized. They might be schedulers, for instance.

Davidson — where there was literally more work than there was time to complete it and get any reasonable amount of sleep — taught me to be a scheduler. Turns out that comes in handy when Cooking Hard Stuff.

Sometimes hard recipes take forever. That’s not a bad thing; besides the fact that time in the kitchen is edifying and therapeutic, the results of these recipes are often worth the extra effort. Croissants and puff pastry take two days to prepare. Yeast bread often has to rise for several hours. Mousses and cheesecakes sometimes have to chill overnight. Good things come to those who can stand to wait.

The problem for me is usually not being patient, but figuring out how and when to wait. For instance, I probably should not start a recipe late at night if it has to chill for three hours before the next step. Nevertheless, countless times I’ve found myself awake in the wee hours of the morning or canceling plans to babysit something in the oven or fridge. My solution to this — and one I wholeheartedly recommend to anyone Cooking Hard Stuff — is to make a list or schedule.

Making an ordered to-do list of prep work allows you to spend less time running around deciding what task to complete next and more time efficiently enjoying each process. If a recipe includes extensive resting, chilling, or baking periods, you can also pencil approximate times you’ll complete each step onto your list. Finally, if a recipe can be broken up over several days (many of the fancy cheesecakes on Willow Bird Baking can be broken up over three days), break down what you’ll be doing on which day so that you can enjoy yourself.

You’re probably going to make fun of me, but since I’m a visual person, I actually draw my schedules out in blocks. Here’s an example. The blocks help me see, relatively, how long each step will take, and when I might have time to walk the dog, jump in the shower, or go get lunch with a friend.

These Sweet Tater & Chorizo Tarts are fortunately simple to make. You could use premade pie dough (or even crescent roll dough for a super easy meal), but it’s also easy to prepare homemade pie dough while roasting your sweet potatoes. You can then mix up the filling while the pie dough chills, cool the filling while you roll the dough out, assemble your tarts, and bake. Draw out a little schedule for yourself (maybe something like this?) and enjoy the process.

And even more, enjoy the product. The natural sweetness of the sweet taters is fantastic with the spicy chorizo and cumin scented black beans. The flaky pastry crust (or buttery crescent roll) around the filling rounds out the flavor and makes each little tart fun to eat. This is one of Mike’s new favorite dinners!

Do you know your Meyers-Briggs personality type? Are you a planner/scheduler, or more of a free spirit?

Sweet Potato & Chorizo Hand Tarts


Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking, inspired in part by Joy the Baker‘s tacos
Yield: about 7-10 tarts, or 12 crescents

This sweet tater and chorizo filling is so scrumptious, I want to incorporate it into every dinner! In this recipe, I stuffed pie pastry and crescent roll dough with it to make plump, cheesy, Tex-Mexy hand tarts. They’re spicy, creamy, flaky, with a touch of natural sweetness from the roasted sweet potatoes. A plate of these with some sour cream, salsa, and cilantro on the side is more than enough for a hearty dinner.

Ingredients:
2 recipes pie pastry (or 1 package refrigerated pie pastry, or 2 cans giant crescent rolls)
1 sweet potatoes, cut into 1/2 inch chunks
1 tablespoon olive oil
1/2 teaspoon chili powder
kosher salt to taste
1/2 (15-ounce) can black beans, rinsed and drained
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon minced garlic
1 heaping tablespoon finely chopped onion
about 5 ounces chorizo
2 ounces cream cheese
spritz lime juice
1/8 cup sharp cheddar cheese, plus more for topping

optional garnishes: lime wedges, cilantro, sour cream, salsa, guacamole

Directions:
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Toss sweet potatoes with 2 teaspoons of olive oil, kosher salt, and chili powder. Spread the potatoes on a foil-lined baking sheet and roast until fork-tender, about 20-25 minutes.

While the potatoes roast, place cream cheese and cheddar cheese in a medium bowl. Brown the chorizo in a skillet over medium-high heat until it’s fully cooked through, and then pour it over the cheese mixture. Let it melt the cheeses for a minute or two before mixing well. Without wiping the skillet out, add 1 teaspoon of olive oil to the skillet. Add the onion, garlic, and cumin and toast for about 30 seconds or until fragrant. Add the beans and cook until they’re fully warmed through. Add the bean mixture over top of the cheese and chorizo and mix gently until it’s well combined. When the sweet potatoes are fully cooked, fold them into the mixture. Add a spritz of lime juice and kosher salt to taste.

Prepare a baking sheet with parchment paper or cooking spray. Roll out the pie pastry to about 1/8 inch thick on a lightly floured surface. Cut it into roughly 4 in. x 3 in. rectangles. Spoon a generous portion of the sweet potato mixture onto every other rectangle and then sprinkle some cheddar cheese onto each one. Top these with the unused rectangles and crimp the sides together with a fork. Cut a steam vent in each pastry and place it on the prepared baking sheet. (If using crescent rolls, just unroll them and spoon a heaping helping of the sweet potato mixture into each one before rolling it up. Sprinkle some cheese on top.) Bake the tarts for 12-14 minutes or until golden brown (or bake crescents according to package instructions). Serve warm with lime wedges, cilantro, sour cream, salsa, and/or guacamole.

P.S. This dish will be entered in the North Carolina Sweet Potato Commission‘s No More ‘Mallows Recipe Contest. I love me some sweet tater and marshmallow casserole, but I also love that sweet potatoes pack a lot of savory potential.

See all the Cooking Hard Stuff Tips:
The Cooking Hard Stuff Challenge
Tip #1: Read and visualize the recipe.
Tip #2: Mise en place.
Tip #3: Make a schedule.
Tip #4: Try, try, try again — or share your success

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Twice Baked Cranberry & Pancetta Sweet Potatoes with Balsamic Glaze

The only time I’ve lived away from my hometown was during my sophomore year in college when I moved to Beaufort, a small town on the coast of North Carolina. I lived there for a few months before traveling for a month down the Eastern seaboard to study marine zoogeography. That semester changed my life, and I’ve continued to process the memories over the years. Periodically I’ll share stories here on Willow Bird Baking from that time.

. . .

I stared willfully at the horizon, waiting for the wave of nausea to subside. As if it were having great fun at my expense, the boat rolled over another giant wave. My stomach followed. I was determined not to succumb to the sensation and end up hanging over the railing like several of my friends, so I squinted even harder at the steady line between sky and land.

We’d woken up at an absurd hour to climb aboard the R/V Susan Hudson that morning. We’d all become accustomed to rolling out of bed, pulling on a pair of salty old sneakers, and plowing through the fog of sleep to begin our adventures. Luxuries like showering and hairstyling and even, say, deodorant had long since been abandoned. There was a high likelihood that on any given day we’d find ourselves traipsing through mud up to our thighs (I’m not exaggerating), swimming to a nearby island, or cuddling with sea cucumbers in the shallows. There was no point in getting pretty.

This was our first deep sea expedition. We were traveling miles out into the ocean to dredge and trawl for invertebrates that we would take back to the lab, observe, and then release. I’d been on the Susan Hudson around Pivers Island, home base for the Duke Marine Lab where we lived, but I soon discovered that this was an entirely different experience: one in which I did not have sea legs. Or a sea stomach.

The briney smell of the critters we poured out onto the ship’s deck didn’t help. We quickly flipped fish back out into the sea and scooped heaps of clams, snails, and squids into buckets of seawater. A cacophony of seagull chatter above us reminded us to toss a bit of our impressively fresh sushi into the air now and then.

On our way back with our spineless loot (the squids’ inky water suggested they were none too happy with their temporary accommodations), we docked near Cape Lookout to explore the seashore for a bit before eating lunch back on the boat. The dining hall had packed us sweet little bag lunches complete with a sandwich, apple, and cookie, but the thought of lunch sent my stomach back into a lurch.

Fortunately, one of the guys in our group had grown up on the water in Charleston. Will had battened down hatches, swabbed the deck, shivered some timbers, and every other nautical cliche I can muster up. He saw my decidedly green gills and said, “Make sure to eat.”

I was skeptical. “Well, I’m feeling really sick — is it a good idea to eat anything? Isn’t that just asking for trouble?”

“Trust me: eat. You’ll feel better.”

I unfolded the wax paper around my sandwich and took a cautious bite. (By the way, if you’ve never wrapped a sandwich in wax paper for your lunch, you should. The sensory experience of unwrapping that crinkly, smooth paper to eat a humble little sandwich is one of my favorite things in the world.) I don’t remember what sort of sandwich it was, but it tasted otherworldly after an entire morning on the boat. My hunger caught up to me and I finished devouring my sandwich with gusto. I headed for the cookie after that, offering my apple to one of my friends (the peel gets caught in my teeth and drives me batty, so I never eat them).

My trust in Will, given tentatively and mostly out of desperation despite his obvious experience, paid off. I felt better almost instantly. So much so that instead of clenching my bench and staring at the now-bright horizon the entire way back to the lab, I was able to get up and survey the surrounding sea, broken by waves and playful dolphins.

. . .

I’ve moved from research boats to potato boats since my time in Beaufort. In fact, I haven’t stepped foot on an actual boat (unless you count a kayak) in years. And I wouldn’t trust these sweet potatoes to be particularly sea-worthy.

They are fantastic, though. I love twice baked potatoes for their soft, creamy filling, and this play on the theme boasts that same lovely texture. In addition to that, it has a phenomenal collection of flavors: sweet potato, cranberry, salty pancetta, sage, goat cheese, and a sweet balsamic glaze. The pretty presentation is just the icing on the cake.

Twice Baked Cranberry & Pancetta Sweet Potatoes with Balsamic Glaze


Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking
Yield: 2 twice baked sweet potatoes

These gorgeous twice baked sweet potatoes are fancy enough for a holiday meal, but simple enough to make any night. You can even prepare them a day in advance so they’re ready to pop in the oven before a big meal. A few tricks (like using a zip top bag to pipe the mixture into their sweet potato boats) speed up the process. The best thing about them, though, is the fantastic combination of flavors: salty pancetta, sweet and tart cranberries, tangy goat cheese, fresh sage, and a sweet balsamic glaze. It’s every sweet potato’s dream.

Ingredients:
2 large sweet potatoes (look for ones that are shaped like a fat oval)
4 ounces cubed pancetta
2 ounces goat cheese, plus more for crumbling on top
2 tablespoons butter
1 heaping teaspoon of loosely packed sage leaves, finely chopped
1/4 cup dried cranberries
1/4 cup half & half
salt to taste
1 1/2 cups balsamic vinegar
3 tablespoons sugar

Directions:
In a small bowl, cover dried cranberries with hot water. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let it sit for about 10 minutes to rehydrate the berries. Drain them and set aside. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Poke each sweet potato several times with a fork and bake them on the oven rack (with a baking sheet on the rack below to catch any oozing) for 1 hour or until a knife will slice them easily.

While they bake, sauté the pancetta in a skillet over medium-high heat for a 8-10 minutes or until crisp. Drain it on a plate lined with a paper towel.

Once they’re ready, let the baked sweet potatoes cool for 10 minutes before slicing the top third off of each. Use a spoon to carefully scoop out the flesh (leave about 1/8 inch of flesh in the skin to give it some sturdiness). Mix the sweet potato flesh in a medium bowl with the butter, 2 ounces of goat cheese, and half & half (add this slowly while mixing so you get the consistency you’d like). Once the mixture is smooth, stir in the cranberries, sage, and pancetta. Salt the mixture to taste. Spoon it into a large zip top bag and cut the bottom corner off. Squeeze the mixture into the sweet potato skins. (At this point you can cover the potatoes and refrigerate overnight or bake immediately. If you chill them overnight, just let them come to room temperature before you bake them the next day.) Bake the potatoes for 10-12 minutes before removing them to a cooling rack.

While the potatoes are baking, combine the balsamic vinegar and sugar in a saucepan and boil them over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally, until the mixture is reduced to about 2/3 cup (this can take anywhere from 18-25 minutes). Be careful — vinegar fumes are strong! When the glaze is about ready, preheat the broiler. Top each potato with a generous amount of goat cheese and broil, watching very closely, until goat cheese is toasty brown and bubbly. Remove the potatoes and drizzle on the balsamic glaze. Serve immediately.

P.S. This dish will be entered in the North Carolina Sweet Potato Commission‘s No More ‘Mallows Recipe Contest. I love me some sweet tater and marshmallow casserole, but I also love that sweet potatoes pack a lot of savory potential.

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Hasselback Sweet Potatoes with Orange Rosemary Butter & Goat Cheese

In light of Willow Bird Baking’s Cooking Hard Stuff Challenge, I’ll be sharing some tips for tackling new or challenging recipes throughout the month of March. If you haven’t signed on for the challenge yet, make sure you read about it and join in the fun.

My first bit of advice about how to Cook Hard Stuff (or really, how to cook anything at all) is going to seem half obvious and half new agey, but it’s important enough to harp on a bit.

Cooking Hard Stuff Tip #1: Read and visualize the recipe.

Once upon a time, I treated a recipe like a labyrinth. I started at the beginning without any knowledge of what was ahead, putting one foot in front of the other and hoping I eventually reached the other side.

It was exciting, for sure. Suddenly, I’d need a cup of sugar. I’d dig around in the cabinet for a bit, do some measuring, and accomplish that task. Then, bam! I’d need a stick of butter. I’d scrounge around in the fridge to see if I had one. The pitfalls of this technique are pretty obvious: sometimes you’re out of sugar, or your butter needed to be set out to soften hours ago, or the pan you need is soaking in the sink with last night’s baked ziti caked all over it.

It only took a few such missteps to start reading recipes, but even then, I just “read” them. Skimming did the trick most of the time. Finally, a few mid-recipe trips to the grocery store made me realize that a cursory scan of a recipe wasn’t going to cut it either.

When I say you should read through your recipe, I mean you should grab a pencil, sit down with the recipe, and really read it. Make grocery lists based on the ingredients. Make a schedule for your prep work so things like softening butter don’t sneak up on you. Sketch a plan for how to set up your workspace for finicky or time sensitive recipes so you won’t have to stop and rummage through the pantry.

These things take a little time. You might sit with your recipe for 15 or 20 minutes planning. I can say from experience, though, that the time and angst you’ll save as you breeze through your recipe is worth the few minutes of preparation.

Once you’ve given a recipe a thorough reading and made any helpful notes, you need to sit down and visualize the steps of the recipe. Literally, sit there and picture yourself doing each step. Maybe this is starting to sound a little like a yoga class, but mentally walking through a recipe is one of the most important things I do to ensure my success. It’s during this exercise that I realize what order the prep work is best completed in, what techniques I’m unfamiliar with and might need to read more about, and what kitchen tools I should use in order to maximize my efficiency and minimize my workload.

Thinking through the recipe a few times also makes me feel like I’ve practiced the steps I’m about to tackle, which boosts my confidence and leads to better results in the kitchen.

These Hasselback Sweet Potatoes aren’t Hard Stuff; they’re actually pretty simple to prepare and boast a gorgeous flavor profile. But having never made Hasselback potatoes before, you better believe I was reading around online, comparing various recipes, and making a prep list for myself. After this bit of preparation, the dish practically flew together.

As I hoped, the orange rosemary butter, goat cheese, and smidge of warm orange marmalade glaze worked perfectly with the sweet potato to create a bold savory side dish. Do a little reading and a little visualization (and maybe even some yoga?) and then make yourself some sweet taters.

What tips for Cooking Hard Stuff would you offer other readers?

Hasselback Sweet Potatoes with Orange Rosemary Butter & Goat Cheese


Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking, inspired by A Cozy Kitchen’s Hasselback Potatoes
Yield: 2 sweet potatoes, 2-4 servings

These sweet potatoes are stuffed with delicate orange rosemary butter and goat cheese and drizzled with a touch of warm orange marmalade when they’re fresh from the oven. The result is a savory side dish with a hint of sweetness and a ton of bright flavor. Don’t fret if the butter and cheese needs to be smooshed into each slit in the potato and ends up a little messy — the finished product will be gorgeous.

Ingredients:
2 sweet potatoes, scrubbed clean
4 tablespoons butter, softened
1 tablespoon rosemary leaves, finely chopped
1/2 teaspoon orange extract
1/2 teaspoon orange zest (optional)
3/4 teaspoon honey
4 ounces goat cheese
1/4 teaspoons kosher salt (plus more for salting butter to taste)
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon orange marmalade

Directions:
Make the Rosemary Orange Butter: Mix softened butter, orange extract, orange zest, finely chopped rosemary, and honey until well combined. Add salt to taste. Spoon butter onto a square of wax paper and gently form into a log. Wrap the log and place it in the freezer to firm up completely.

Prepare potatoes: Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F and cover a baking sheet with foil. Place a wooden spoon handle on either side of your potato and slice thin slices into it, allowing the spoon handles to stop your knife before you cut all the way through. Slice your cold butter into thin slices and stuff a sliver into every other slit in your potato. Stuff goat cheese into the other slits (some goat cheese will smear out onto the top of your potato and form a topping of sorts). Place the potatoes on the prepared baking sheet, drizzle each potato with 1/2 tablespoon of oil, and sprinkle with kosher salt.

Bake the potatoes at 400 degrees F for 45 minutes or until fork tender. Check halfway through and tent with foil if the goat cheese is beginning to brown too much. Remove the potatoes from the oven after baking and heat the orange marmalade in a small, microwave safe prep bowl for about 15 seconds. Drizzle half over each potato and serve immediately.

P.S. This dish will be entered in the North Carolina Sweet Potato Commission‘s No More ‘Mallows Recipe Contest. I love me some sweet tater and marshmallow casserole, but I also love that sweet potatoes pack a lot of savory potential.

See all the Cooking Hard Stuff Tips:
The Cooking Hard Stuff Challenge
Tip #1: Read and visualize the recipe.
Tip #2: Mise en place.
Tip #3: Make a schedule.
Tip #4: Try, try, try again — or share your success

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Brie En Croute with Figs & Rosemary

It’s Ash Wednesday, a mournful first footfall along a path that winds through fasting, repentance, and even death on its way to climactic, exuberant rebirth. Some Baptist churches observe Lent, the season of sacrifice that begins today, but others — including my own — don’t. I started observing it personally in college, though, because I appreciated the symbolism: the 40ish days of Lent recognize the 40 days of fasting and prayer Jesus endured in the wilderness in preparation for laying down His life as a sacrifice for our sins.

During Lent, people choose something to give up in recognition of Christ’s self-denial. The first year I participated, I gave up sweets. Perhaps that seems harsh considering I now write a baking blog dominated by decadent desserts, but I actually thought I was starting off easy. I wasn’t a huge fan of desserts at the time. I sometimes joke that my 40-day abstinence must have created a continuously combusting passion for cake in the depths of my soul, because afterwards, I was ravenous for sugar (and have been ever since).

In subsequent years I would give up meat (easy), computer usage (a little harder), and caffeine (ridiculously difficult).

Those 40 days without soda almost did me in. I know it’s absurd — Christ gave up everything and I had trouble giving up a beverage — but I really did struggle. For some reason, drinking lots of water makes me feel parched instead of hydrated. I was thirsty all the time, my throat was sore, my lips were dry, and yet — to put it delicately — I still needed more bathroom breaks than a teacher could possibly squeeze into the day. The worst part, though, was how absolutely exhausted I was all the time. Apparently I run mostly on caffeine.

This year I’m giving up a few different things. I’ve developed something of a chain-drinking problem with Diet Sunkist at school, so I’m abstaining from that entirely. I’m also giving up time on the internet: I’ve given myself just a sliver of time to check Facebook and Pinterest and my Google Reader each evening.

It’s just a couple of small things — enough to create a background discomfort that reminds me that my freedom came at a steep cost.

This Brie En Croute with Figs & Rosemary might be better suited to Fat Tuesday (emphasis on the “fat”) than Ash Wednesday, but it’s not Sunkist or Facebook, so right now it’s fine by me! In fact, it’s more than fine; it’s fantastic. It’s a warm, heavenly mess of gooey and sweet and buttery and crisp — and since it’s simple to put together but comes out looking fancy, it’d be perfect for a party or nice dinner.

Or as a personal snack. At parties, I usually eat a few crackerfuls of brie and then politely leave the cheese plate to other folks. Turns out when you’re an adult and can make all sorts of bad food decisions with reckless abandon, you can eat the entire wheel of brie by yourself (though, given that I felt decidedly gross after doing so, perhaps I shouldn’t recommend it). Here’s to moderation!

Do you observe Lent? If so, what are you giving up?

Brie En Croute with Figs & Rosemary


Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking
Yield: This recipe would probably serve about 5-6 people at a party.

My favorite recipes are easy, pretty, and delicious, and this one fits the bill. Brie baked inside of puff pastry is already a gooey, buttery masterpiece, but adding sweet figs and some rosemary to the mix creates a fantastic flavor profile.

Ingredients:
1 sheet of frozen puff pastry, thawed (or make your own!)
1 8-ounce wheel of brie (rind on)
1/4 cup fig jam or preserves
1/4 cup chopped dried figs
1 1/2 tablespoons roughly chopped fresh rosemary
1 egg
1 tablespoon water

Directions:
Preheat oven to 425 degrees F. In a small bowl, mix jam, chopped figs, and rosemary. Set this in the fridge until you’re ready to use it.

Gently roll out the sheet of puff pastry on a lightly floured surface just enough to smooth out the seams and thin it a bit. Spoon your jam mixture into a small circle (about the size of your brie wheel) in the center of the pastry sheet and place your brie on top of it snugly. Carefully pull the puff pastry sheet up around the brie, cutting off any excess (I use a clean pair of kitchen scissors) and pressing the pastry to seal it together at the top. Use a pastry brush to dust off the excess flour.

Place the covered brie seam side down on a baking sheet covered with parchment paper or a silicon baking mat. Use scraps to decorate your brie, if you wish (you can use a wet finger to moisten the dough slightly and “glue” them on). Whisk egg and water together in a small bowl and use a pastry brush to apply this egg wash to the whole surface of the pastry . Bake this wheel at 425 degrees F for 18-25 minutes, or until it’s good and golden brown (if you have decorations on top, check it early and often to see if you need to cover them with foil, because they’ll darken quicker than the rest of the wheel). After removing your wheel from the oven, let it sit for 15 minutes if you like it very melty and about 20-25 minutes if you like an average melt (as pictured above). Then serve with toast or crackers.

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