The Early Days of Television - The Antoinette and François Pope Cooking Show

A decade before Julia Child gave us "The French Chef" and more than 40 years before the launch of "The Food Network", there was a program hosted by Antoinette and François Pope. It was my first cooking show. I was about five years old when I began to watch the broadcast on our Magnavox television set (and had to miss it when I went to morning kindergarten). Although it wasn't the the first cooking show in the history of American television (that distinction belongs to James Beard's "I Love to Eat" which appeared on NBC-TV from 1946-1947 - well before my time) it was most certainly one of the earliest and most popular. Along with "Ask Mr. Wizard", the Antoinette and François Pope endeavor was, at least for me, a must see in the early days of "educational" programming. The show was Chicago-based and came on, I believe, at 10:00 a.m. on Channel 7. The Popes ran a cooking school, "The Antoinette Pope School of Fancy Cookery" and they published a cookbook appropriately titled "The Antoinette Pope School Cookbook". It was one of the cookbooks in my mother's library along with "The Joy of Cooking" and "Betty Crocker's Picture Cook Book", all of which I perused on a regular basis. It's how I learned to read! I honestly don't remember a time when I wasn't interested in food and cooking. My mother told me that my first "toys" as a toddler were pots and pans which I banged with a wooden spoon while sitting on the kitchen floor. So by the time the Popes cooking show was being televised, I was already a student of the culinary arts.

Back in the late 50s, my mother joined a book club. Mom wasn't too enthusiastic when it came to women's groups but since books were the focus, she signed on at the encouragement of a neighbor. There were about 16 active members and they met monthly for lunch and discussion. It was agreed that the ladies would take turns hosting to spread the workload. Once the members sampled mom's cuisine however, it seemed that she hosted about every three months! One of her most requested luncheons consisted of a chicken and wild rice casserole and hot curried fruit. She baked her famous potato rolls and always provided two spectacular desserts, one of which was a three-layer cake of one kind or another. I believe the casserole and curried fruit recipes came from the Pope cookbook. I'll know for certain once I manage to snag a copy - perhaps from Bonnie Slotnick or eBay - and then I'll be happy to share my findings.

In the meantime, if you're a parent or grandparent with small childen in your care, let them watch lots of cooking shows. You'll help them to develop an appreciation for all things culinary while keeping them out of trouble. Let them assist in the kitchen, too. In his book "Cooking in America", Pierre Franey said, "Cooking is one of those adult-and-child activities that really works ... Kids need to get the feel of real food early on. They need to get their hands into the raw ingredients and then witness what happens when those ingredients are combined and transformed into wonderful foods. This is an important way to teach kids - without belaboring the pedagogical intent - that the preparation of food is a creative process with great rewards beyond the mere elimination of hunger. How else are they going to learn that those paper-wrapped hamburgers hurled over the fast-food counters of America aren't the real thing?"

ADDENDUM: Alas, neither the chicken casserole or curried fruit appears in the Pope cookbook. Perhaps mom found the recipes in another book, magazine, or the Chicago Tribune's food section. Maybe a friend shared the recipes - or most likely, she simply developed them on her own. If I may add a lesson - before your grandmother, mother or favorite aunt go to that great kitchen in the hereafter, ask them for their recipes! Better still, get them on tape during a cooking or baking session. You'll be glad you did!

Book Review - "Great Cookies" by Carole Walter

In the last two years I've acquired another half dozen books devoted to cookies (my collection of baking books is now at 65 volumes). There's not a dud among the cookie books, but I do have three favorites: The King Arthur Flour Cookie Companion; the All-American Cookie Book by Nancy Baggett; and Great Cookies by Carole Walter. I bought Walter's book on a cold rainy day last fall and proceeded to read it - cover to cover.

Walter is a pro - in the same league as Maida Heatter, Rose Levy Beranbaum, Dorie Greenspan, Nick Malgieri, and Abigail Johnson Dodge. Aside from the recipes, which are nearly flawless, the 44-page "Teacher's Secrets for Sensational Cookies" is marvelous. This section includes such features as a two-page spread on the characteristics of various brands of chocolate chips; decorating and garnishing; guidelines for storing, wrapping and mailing cookies; an encyclopedic explanation of "Nuts and Seeds"; and a page entitled "Troubleshooting" to help decipher what can go wrong and how to avoid those pitfalls.

A helpful list of sources for equipment and ingredients is also included, along with a substantial bibliography. The section on Chocolate Chip Cookies has a bulleted list of helpful hints on producing the best of the best. The "Soft and Chewy Chocolate Chip Cookies" on page 32 are a personal favorite. There are also lists of secrets for making giant cookies, Biscotti, and Rugalah, among others. This is really a professional textbook on how to make superlative cookies - and it's the tips and techniques that set this volume apart.

There are many recipes for ethnic favorites, too, such as Hamantaschen, Baklava, Springerle, and Jan Hagels (a personal favorite). Whether you're searching for holiday cookies, after-school treats, comfy bar cookies, or a cookie worthy of a dinner party (the Black and Whites are very chic!), you'll find them among the more than 200 recipes provided. The dozen recipes for fillings and glazes are a plus and the "Caramel Mascarpone Cream" is heavenly.

The book's layout is approachable and navigable, the fonts easy on the eyes, and the photographs both beautiful and helpful. The book is a bit heavy for it's size but not unwieldy. The Index would have been better with a larger typeface and darker ink, but that is my only complaint.

If you buy the book, just be sure to stock up on milk.

French Toast Revisited - A Breakfast Classic with Fresh Orange Syrup and Summer Berries

Exotic ingredients and outlandish recipes get an awful lot of attention these days. Cookbooks, television programs and food magazines are full of what Julia Child referred to as "food fads". There seems to be so much fierce competition among professional chefs (and so much ego), that they go to ridiculous lengths to outdo each other. Do we really want Lobster Ice Cream, Buffalo Tongue, and Candied Anchovies? Maybe I don't want my Bolognese deconstructed. Maybe I prefer my butterflied leg of lamb seasoned with rosemary as opposed to having a rosemary tisane scenting the air nearby. Listen Mr. Chef Impressed-with-Yourself, I occasionally need something familiar, especially for breakfast.

Remember French Toast? Not the frozen kind - the real deal. French Toast is easier to prepare than pancakes (I always seem deep-six the first batch out of the skillet) and I don't have to haul the waffle maker out of the top cabinet. French Toast also makes great use of stale bread - and you can use almost any kind of bread - French bread, cinnamon raisin, challah, sourdough, even crossiants. It's fun to try specialty breads as well, such as pumpkin walnut or Asiago cheese.

FRENCH TOAST WITH ORANGE SYRUP AND SUMMER BERRIES

Orange Syrup

1 cup sugar, preferably superfine
1/2 cup fresh orange juice
1 generous tablespoon no-pulp frozen orange juice concentrate
1 cup water
1 teaspoon pure orange extract
1 tablespoon orange liqueur (optional)

In a small saucepan, combine the sugar, orange juice, orange juice concentrate, extract and water. Bring to a boil over low heat, stirring constantly. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer for one minute. Remove from the heat and add the liqueur. Serve warm. Syrup can be made ahead of time and stored in a tightly covered glass jar in the refrigerator. Briefly reheat syrup before serving.

French Toast

6 large eggs
1 cup whole milk or half-and-half
1/2 cup orange juice
3 tablespoons sugar
grated zest of one medium orange
1 tablespoon orange liqueur (optional)
1 teaspoon pure orange extract
1/4 teaspoon salt
6-8 slices day-old challah or sturdy white bread, 1/2 inch thick
2 tablespoons unsalted butter or canola oil
2 cups fresh berries (blueberries, strawberries, raspberries)

In a medium shallow bowl, combine the eggs, milk, orange juice, sugar, orange zest, liqueur, extract and salt. Dip each slice of bread into the mixture, allowing it to soak up the liquid. Heat a large sauté pan over medium heat. Add the butter or oil and fry the egg-soaked bread for 2-3 minutes per side until golden brown, turning only once. Serve immediately with the syrup and berries. Wonderful with pure maple syrup, too! Serves 3-4. Recipe may be doubled.

Chocolate Sheet Cake for a Crowd

It's 78° here in Chicago making it a near perfect day. This is summer at its best, without too much heat and humidity. I still feel like baking and there seem to be many opportunities to do so - with backyard cookouts, neighborhood picnics, and 4th of July celebrations around the corner. These events usually drum up a crowd and feeding a hungry horde can be a bit of a challenge. What to bring? This isn't the time for fancy layer cakes and if I bake cupcakes, I have to show up with at least 24 and most of my recipes are for a dozen. I could bake a couple of cherry pies but they're a bit labor intensive and I'll still wind up with only 12 servings (have you ever seen anyone eat slivers of pie?). For casual gatherings of 20-30 people, my Chocolate Sheet Cake fits the bill.

Variations of this very simple recipe have circulated for years. Also known as Chocolate Buttermilk Sheet Cake and Texas Sheet Cake, it comes together in just a few minutes and only requires a hand mixer. Melted butter is used in both the cake and frosting, so you don't have to remember to take the butter out of the refrigerator or freezer ahead of time. It's likely you'll have all the ingredients needed on hand, too (if you don't have buttermilk, just add 1 tablespoon white vinegar or lemon juice to a cup of milk and let it stand for 5 minutes). You'll need a 15"x 10" or 16" x 11" sheet pan, also known as a jelly roll pan. This is a very moist cake because it contains both butter and oil. This delicious dessert will remind you of a frosted cakey brownie - only better! You can serve the cake directly from the pan but feel free to use one of those 3-tiered cake plates for a nicer presentation.

CHOCOLATE SHEET CAKE

Cake:

1-2 tablespoons butter or shortening for greasing the pan
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup oil (I use canola)
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter
1 cup water
4 tablespoons natural cocoa (do not use "Dutched")
1 teaspoon instant coffee or espresso powder
2 large eggs
1/3 cup buttermilk
1 teaspoon pure vanilla

Preheat the oven to 350°. Grease and flour the pan. In a large mixing bowl, stir together the flour, sugar, baking soda and salt. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, combine the oil, butter and water and heat until the butter melts. Remove from heat and add the cocoa and instant coffee. Add to the dry ingredients in the mixing bowl. Using an electric hand mixer, blend for about 15 seconds. Add the eggs, buttermilk and vanilla and beat until blended, about 30 seconds, stopping to scrape the bowl after 15 seconds.

Pour the batter into the pan and bake for 20-22 minutes or until a cake tester inserted in the center comes out clean.

Frosting:

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter
1 lb. confectioner's sugar
1/3 cup buttermilk
3 tablespoons natural cocoa
1 teaspoon pure vanilla

While the cake is baking, melt the butter in a medium saucepan over low heat. Add the rest of the ingredients and keep warm. Pour frosting over hot cake and spread quickly. Cool on a wire rack. Yields about 32 generous pieces.

Book Review: "Great Coffee Cakes, Sticky Buns, Muffins & More" by Carole Walter

This is my fourth book by Carole Walter - the preceding three being single-subject volumes covering Cakes, Cookies, and Pies & Tarts. Like the others, this book doesn't disappoint. If you're a fan of Dorie Greenspan, Maida Heatter, or Abigail Johnson Dodge, this will be a welcome addition to your library. It will be your "go to" cookbook when the baking bug hits you on a cold winter's day or when you're searching for the perfect "take-along" sweet for a family gathering.

Walter is a pro - and it shows - but she's also friendly and approachable. As you read through a recipe, you'll feel as though a much loved grandmother is guiding you through the process. Even the more difficult recipes, such as strudel and croissants seem doable. Most of the recipes are easy, however, and the levels of difficulty are indicated for each.

The first chapter opens with "Perfect Pound Cakes" and there are 16 from which to choose, including "Sour Cream Pound Cake"; "Lemon Cream Cheese Pound Cake"; and "Butter Pecan Pound Cake". All are remarkably simple to prepare and are baked in Bundt, angel food or loaf pans - equipment already in your cabinet. It's likely you'll have the ingredients on hand, too. The second chapter, "Home-Style Coffee Cakes" boasts 19 enticing options such as "Sour Cream Marble Cake"; "Butter Crumb Coffee-Cake"; "Irish Whiskey Cake"; "Banana Chocolate Chip Cake" and "Pineapple Squares with Coconut Streusel".

Additional chapters cover "Muffins & Quick Breads"; "Biscuits and Scones"; "Yeasted Coffee Cakes"; "Brioche, Croissants & Danish"; "Strudel"; and "Coffee Break Bites". The final chapter incorporates "Streusels, Glazes, Frostings & Spreads", all of which can be used for recipes outside of this book.

"Great Coffee Cakes" is full of helpful tips and techniques. A page is dedicated to "Marbling", making the whole process much less intimidating. Other handy tips include turning muffin recipes into quick breads; effectively dealing with cutting bar cookies; and working with yeast. Helpful drawings make the more challenging recipes less so. There are five pages dedicated to "Equipment" and there's a 24-page section dealing with "Ingredients and Techniques". Walter also provides eight sources for ingredients and equipment, complete with websites and phone numbers.

The book is peppered throughout with endearing quotes from the likes of Oscar Wilde, Julia Child, and Graham Greene. Each recipe begins with a memoir, a story, or a technique and ends with recommendations for storage (some cakes are actually better the next day - but I doubt you'll be able to resist that long!). The book is a nice size and the typeface is readible, if not ideal. There are 31 pages of beautiful photographs - which for a book of 200 recipes is quite generous. For old-fashioned comfort treats, this book is nearly perfect.

Cold Cherry Soup

When I was in college, I had the good fortune to meet a fellow classmate whose parents were from Lithuania. Kristina, and Marcy, her roommate of four years, were nearly inseparable. Both majored in Biology and spent many hours in the science building. The three of us became fast friends (we called ourselves "The Three Musketeers") and through them, I got to know their Chemistry professor very well. Although I was a solid Political Science major, the Chemistry professor became my faculty advisor during my junior year - and in that role, she was superb. The best part of the deal was that the prof invited us to her home for dinner on many occasions! Home cooking for three hungry students!

Kristina was from St. Paul, Minnesota, where her parents and younger sisters lived in a beautiful house in a gorgeous wooded setting. I was a guest in their home and at their table on several occasions. Kristina's mother, a stunning woman with great class and style, was also a marvelous cook. Much of what we ate was Lithuanian and it was delicious.

One warm summer evening, we were treated to a first course of Cold Cherry Soup. It was the height of the cherry season and it was a particularly lush crop. The soup was cool and refreshing - a blissful gift of the season. Chilled fruit soups are very popular in Eastern and Northern Europe, as well as Russia. Swedes eat a fruit soup made with dried fruit, tapioca and warm spices. It's often part of a Smörgåsbord and may be served hot or cold. It's one of my favorite Swedish comfort foods. Russians and Hungarians make their Cold Cherry Soup with fresh sour cherries (most often Morellos) and they're similar to the soup that was so elegantly prepared by Kristina's mother. Although I left Minnesota without the recipe, I was eventually able to closely replicate it at home. You may use Bing cherries or whatever cherries are in season.

COLD CHERRY SOUP

2 lbs ripe red cherries, rinsed and pitted (reserve 12 for garnishing the soup)
1 cup water
1 cup Riesling, Rosé, Gewürztraminer, or other medium-dry wine
1/2 cup superfine sugar, or more to taste
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
Grated zest of one lemon
2 tablespoons kirsch (clear black cherry brandy)
2 cups sour cream or plain yogurt, divided (lowfat is OK but do not use fat-free)

In a large saucepan combine the cherries, water, wine, sugar, lemon juice, and lemon zest. Over medium-high heat, bring to a boil while stirring constantly. Reduce the heat to low and simmer gently, covered, until the cherries are soft, about 15-20 minutes. Let the mixture cool to room temperature and puree in two batches in a food processor fitted with a metal blade or a blender until smooth. Transfer to a large mixing bowl and stir in 1-1/2 cups of the sour cream and kirsch. Taste and add an additional tablespoon of sugar if needed. Chill for at least 3 hours. Ladle into bowls and garnish with a dollop of sour cream and the reserved cherries. Serves 4-6 as an appetizer, first course or dessert.

Hot Days - Cool Melon with Fresh Basil and Lime Juice

It's officially summer - at least "meteorologic summer"- the first day of June, and hot days are ahead. For my part, nothing is more refreshing on a sweltering day than cold Watermelon. I love Honeydew, Cantaloupe, Canary, Casaba, Sharlyn, Cranshaw, Santa Claus, and Galia melons, too. Growing up, we had seasonal melon almost every day. I can still eat melon regularly during the summer months and not get tired of it. In fact, melon with a little cottage cheese is one of my favorite summertime suppers.

I'm enjoying the plethora of fresh herbs now, too. Basil is the classic summer herb - its bright green flavor capturing the essence of the season. It's one herb that completely loses its flavor when dried, so enjoy it fresh when it's available. The combination of melon and basil with a splash of fresh lime juice is delightful. Use a variety of melons for this fruit salad - Watermelon, Cantaloupe, and Honeydew are the perfect combination of color and flavor.

MELON WITH FRESH BASIL AND LIME JUICE

4 cups melon, cubes or balls
1 bunch fresh basil (about a dozen leaves), cut into strips or torn
Juice of 1 lime
2 tablespoons mild honey
pinch non-iodized salt

Put the melon in a bowl, add the lime juice, honey and salt. Toss. Add the basil. Toss again. Chill for an hour or two if you wish. That's it. If you have some fresh mint, you can add that, too. Strange as it may sound, you may also add a 1/3 cup of crumbled feta cheese and a grind or two of freshly cracked pepper (omit the salt). After all, fruit and cheese are a natural combination!

Note: Watermelon is in a different botanical family than the other melons mentioned here. It is, in fact, related to the cucumber. I'm told that gardeners are advised to plant cucumbers and watermelons far apart or they cross-pollinate, resulting in an odd hybrid.

Strawberry-Rhubarb Ice Cream

The idea of Strawberry-Rhubarb Ice Cream occured to me this spring while I was pondering the various uses for rhubarb. For pies, I like just rhubarb - no strawberries. Perhaps it's because rhubarb is less available much of the year, so it's a rare treat. Perhaps it's because I'm a purist who loves the taste of rhubarb. But strawberries and rhubarb are a wonderful match and if the strawberries are a little short on flavor, the rhubarb seems to give them a boost.

The thought of cream cheese, with its slightly tangy flavor and buttery texture playing off strawberries and rhubarb just seemed perfect. One night a few years ago, I experimented with cream cheese ice cream and it worked! I wasn't sure it would freeze properly but it was fantastic. I had some frozen bluberries and threw them in the mixture and Wow - I was on to something!

This ice cream is very easy to make but you do have to cook and chill the rhubarb in advance. Since many ice cream machines require that you store the canister in the freezer for at least 8 hours, you can do that at the same time. The recipe calls for fresh strawberries, but you can certainly use frozen.

STRAWBERRY-RHUBARB ICE CREAM

1/2 pound rhubarb, sliced into 1" pieces (fresh or frozen)
2-1/4 cups superfine sugar, divided
8 ounces cream cheese, softened
2-1/2 cups half-and-half
1 cup whole milk
1 pint fresh strawberries, washed, hulled and mashed*
Pinch non-iodized salt

Put the rhubarb in a medium saucepan with 1-1/4 cups of the sugar and pour in just enough water to cover the rhubarb a little more than halfway. Bring to a boil and simmer over low heat until the fruit is tender, about 5 minutes. Stir to break up the chunks and cool to room temperature. Chill in a covered bowl in the refrigerator until very cold.

In a large bowl, beat the cream cheese until smooth. Add the half-and-half and milk and beat until smooth. Measure out 1-1/2 cups of the chilled rhubarb and add it to the milk-cream cheese mixture along with the strawberries and the salt and stir well. Chill the mixture until very cold - at least 2 hours. Pour into an ice cream machine and process according to the manufacturers instructions. Makes a generous quart (you may not be able to get all of the mixture into the canister). Store in a covered container in the freezer no more than 3 days.

Note: You can puree the rhubarb mixture in a food processor before combining it with the other ingredients. This is especially desirable if the rhubarb is stringy. I prefer the texture slightly chunky, however. Leftover rhubarb can be served over the ice cream, spooned into yogurt, or eaten as is. It's also good with roast or grilled pork. Coarsely mash the strawberries with a potato masher, pastry cutter, or fork and include their juice.

Why I Don't Grill and a Recipe for Take-Along Five Bean Salad

I don't grill. That is, I don't grill outside on a charcoal or gas grill. I grill inside with a grill pan or under the broiler. When warm weather comes around, outdoor grilled food is something I crave, so I renew my relationships with my master griller friends and hope they're kind enough to invite me to dinner on the patio. Hey - I'll bring the Tanqueray, the dessert, and my Five Bean Salad (or Tabbouleh if lamb is on the menu). I'll even throw in the tonic water and the limes, but I leave the grilling to the experts. By the way, I make the best damn Tabbouleh on the planet - better than a Lebanese grandmother!

There's a spot on my little deck for a grill and acquiring one is easy enough - that's not the point. My track record with grilling isn't stellar. It started out pleasantly enough but culminated with setting the Peony bush on fire. I should mention that I really wasn't all that unhappy to lose the bush. The flowers, of course, were gorgeous but the ants loved their sticky nectar. The bush was right outside my daughter's bedroom window, where the ants would congregate on the sill and make their way inside. Of course we couldn't bring the blossoms in the house because of the ants, so we had to enjoy the pink blooms while sitting in the yard.

Right before Memorial Day in '89, we bought a charcoal grill. It was a red "kettle" and it cost $69. We bought a well-known national brand of charcoal and lighter fluid and went about completing the picture of the quintessential suburban family (we already had the dog and the station wagon). The grill sat in front of the Peony bush. We grilled all summer - burgers, fish, chicken, pork chops, New York strips, bratwurst, you name it - we grilled it. I made up foil packets of summer veggies and grilled fresh pineapple before it was fashionable. I marinated, planked, skewered and basted. Having planted nasturtiums that spring, we had the flowers in our salad. We drank quite a bit of Molson Golden that year, too. It all seemed pretty good.

Then one day toward the end of the summer, my former husband came home with a cheap brand of charcoal and lighter fluid (he had a very hard time resisting a "bargain"). We fired up the grill and threw on the burgers. We tried to eat the ones that hadn't morphed into hockey pucks but they tasted like kerosene. Then suddenly, the grill and the Peony bush were consumed in flames. Houston, we have a problem. The back yard smelled like the tarmac at O'Hare International on a hot day. The southbound neighbors started yelling over their tall fence (they had recently installed a pool). The northbound neighbors - an elderly couple - came running out if the house in a panic with a kitchen-sized extinguisher. The dog barked incessantly: "Get the Sheriff! Get the Sheriff!" My spouse donned a mitt and from a relatively safe distance, threw the cover over the kettle (that was quite a toss), while our neighbor shot foam at the Peony bush. The launch-pad temperature blaze, deprived of oxygen, died. The paint on the grill had peeled and fallen off in big chunks and the kettle itself was twisted nearly beyond recognition. It was over. Hands on her hips, my daughter said, "Well, I think I've had enough of this!", and stomped into the house where she proceeded to eat three bowls of cereal for dinner. Too embarrassed to put the grill out for the garbage collectors, we stored it in the basement - a grim reminder of the "incident". It was very, very sad.

Yes, I know - I should get over it and invest in a little gas grill - but I'm afraid of propane. I'm considering, however, attending space camp at the U.S. Space & Rocket Center in Alabama where I can learn to become a "Mission Specialist" in only eight days. T-minus 10, 9, 8, 7...

TAKE-ALONG FIVE BEAN SALAD

This salad has a long list of ingredients but comes together quickly. Feel free to add or subtract whatever beans, vegetables or fresh herbs you wish. It's a large salad, so I like to divide it into two portions and put the crumbled feta in one half (not everyone is fond of feta). You can substitute 1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro for the basil and add a teaspoon or two of ground chipotle or ancho chili pepper and a teaspoon or two of ground cumin. If you use fresh corn kernels, blanch them in boiling water for one minute and drain. If you don't want the salad too garlicky, just rub an exposed clove around the bowl and discard.

3/4 pound fresh green beans, trimmed and cut diagonally into
1-1/2" pieces
1 15 ounce can black beans, drained and rinsed
1 15 ounce can kidney beans, drained and rinsed
1 15 ounce can garbanzo beans, drained and rinsed
1 15 ounce can yellow wax beans, drained
1-1/2 cups corn kernels (fresh, canned, or frozen)
1 large red bell pepper, diced
1/2 medium green bell pepper, diced
1/2 cup green onions, sliced
1 medium red onion, diced
1 small clove garlic, minced
1/2 large cucumber, seeded and diced
2 stalks celery, sliced
1 medium jicama, cut into matchstick pieces (optional)
1/4 cup brown sugar
1-1/2 cups chopped tomato or 1/2 pound cherry or grape tomatoes, halved
1 large bunch (about 16 leaves) roughly chopped fresh basil
1/2 pound feta cheese crumbled (optional)
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil (or vegetable oil)
1/3 cup fresh lime juice or red-wine vinegar
1 tablespoon Mrs. Dash Original Blend
1 tablespoon fresh thyme or 1 teaspoon dried thyme
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
4 strips thick bacon, drained and crumbled (optional)

Bring a medium pot of water to a boil and add the green beans. Cook for 3 minutes and drain. Allow to cool.

In a very large bowl, combine the beans, corn, red and green bell pepper, green and red onions, garlic, cucumber, celery, jicama and sugar and toss to mix. Add the basil, tomatoes and optional feta and toss gently. Add the olive oil, lime juice, and seasonings and toss well once more. Taste and adjust the seasonings. Chill at least 3 hours (but not more than 8 hours or the beans get soggy) before serving so the flavors can meld. Add the optional bacon and toss again just before serving. Serves 12.

Mango Madness: Mango Piña Colada, Mango Lassi, Mango Ice Cream; Grilled Mango

Indian Mangoes are in season and Alphonso Mangoes, if you can locate them, are a little piece of heaven. How fortunate that the U.S. trade agreement with India now allows them to be exported! Although sensational eaten out of hand, they lend an exotic flavor to mixed drinks, ice creams and sorbets, and the refreshing Mango Lassi, India's answer to a mango smoothie.

You may, of course, use whatever mangoes are available at the market. The Ataulfo or "Champagne" mango grown in Mexico is less fibrous than other varities and is widely available. Combined with a buttery texture, it makes especially smooth drinks and frozen treats. Kents (from southern Florida) and Keitts (from California) are also very good. As far as I'm concerned, mangoes from Central and South America such as the "Tommy Atkins" look better than they taste (color is not a reliable indicator of quality so it's best to go by scent). Although they tolerate rough handling and transportation without bruising and have a long shelf life, their pallid flavor cannot compare to that of Indian mangoes. In her book "A Feast of Fruits", Elizabeth Riely states that in India "a gift of mangoes is considered a warm gesture of friendship".

For tips on how to cut up a mango and a great recipe for fresh Mango Salsa, go to my fellow blogger Elise's website (Simply Recipes) at:
http://www.elise.com/recipes/archives/002078how_to_cut_a_mango.php

For those of you cooking out this Memorial Day weekend, grilled mangoes and pineapple marry well with chicken, fish, and pork. According to my grilling experts, place 1/2" thick slices of the fruit on a well oiled grill with medium-high heat. Grill until just heated through, about a minute per side. Finish with a very light dusting of cayenne or chili powder and a squirt of fresh lime juice.

MANGO PINA COLADA

2 medium mangoes, cut into 1/4" dice
2/3 cup cream of coconut, such as Coco Lopez, chilled*
6 tablespoons frozen pineapple juice concentrate
1/2 cup light rum, chilled*
1-1/2 cups crushed ice

Combine the first 4 ingredients in a blender and process for 15 seconds. Add the ice and process until smooth and frothy. Makes about 4 servings.

* Cream of coconut, which is usually found in the liquor section, should not be confused with coconut milk, which is unsweetened. Feel free to use a flavored rum such as Coconut, Pineapple, or Mango.

MANGO LASSI

2 cups very cold buttermilk
1 medium mango, cubed
4 tablespoons superfine sugar or mild honey
Pinch of non-iodized salt
1 cup crushed ice
Ground cardamom, to taste
Finely chopped pistachios (optional)

Put the buttermilk, mango, sugar, salt, and ice in a blender and process until smooth. Pour into glasses and sprinkle with the cardamom and pistachios. I like to chill the mixture in the blender container in the freezer for 5-10 minutes and then process again before serving. Serves 2.

EASY MANGO ICE CREAM

This is a "Philadelphia" style ice cream, as no eggs are used.

3 cups diced mango (about 3 medium mangoes)
1-1/2 cups superfine sugar, divided
1 cup chilled mango or peach nectar
2 cups half-and-half
1/4 cup heavy whipping cream
1 teaspoon ground cardamom (optional)*
Pinch non-iodized salt

In a food processor, combine the mango with half the sugar, the salt and the optional cardamom and process until smooth. In a medium bowl, combine the mango nectar, the half-and-half, the cream and the rest of the sugar. Stir until the sugar dissolves and add the mango mixture. Chill in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours. Pour into an ice cream machine and process according to the manufacturers instructions (this usually means storing the ice cream machine's canister in the freezer for at least 8 hours before making the ice cream). Adding the cardamom will remind you of Indian Kulfi, a kind of ice cream. Store in a tightly covered container in the freezer no more than 3 days. Makes about 1 quart.

The Perfect Bundt Cake

As a matter of course, I regularly read other food blogs and websites. One of my favorites belongs to uber baker, pastry chef and cookbook author Rose Levy Beranbaum. I own several of Rose's books: "The Cake Bible"; "A Passion for Chocolate"; and "Rose's Christmas Cookies" and I'm anxiously awaiting her forthcoming book, "Rose's Heavenly Cakes."

One of the tips I recently picked up on Rose's blog is how to make the top of a cake baked in a fluted tube pan look as perfect and without air pockets as much as possible. I love the variety of decorative Bundt® pans, such as Nordic Ware's "Cathedral Pan", "Fleur de Lis", and "Bavaria Bundt Pan", but sometimes it's difficult to achieve the intended definition of these beautiful pans. It seems that the more complicated the design of the pan, the more chance there is for the batter to stick in the nooks and crannies.

According to Rose: "Fill the pans about one inch full with batter and then using the back of a spoon with a side to side motion, press the batter into the grooves of the pan before adding the remainder of the batter."

The Nordic Ware company also has a list of helpful tips to ensure fail-safe results for "The Perfect Bundt Cake". Complete instructions are available on their website http://www.nordicware.com/ but here are the highlights:

(1) Spray the pan with a non-stick spray such as Baker's Joy, which contains flour or better still, brush the pan with solid vegetable shortening and dust with flour (Nordic Ware recommends Wondra flour for superior results). Nordic Ware cautions against using a non-stick spray that contains lecithin (a natural and otherwise harmless ingredient derived from soy) as a gummy residue can build up over time, which is difficult to remove. My recently purchased can of Baker's Joy lists lecithin among the ingredients, however. For my part, I'd rather stick to shortening or clarified butter applied with a pastry brush.

(2) Avoid bubbles in the batter by slowing pouring the batter in one corner of the pan and allowing it to slowly flow in and around the Bundt design. When the pan is filled, tap the pan on the counter a few times to release air bubbles;

(3) Fill the pan no more than 3/4 full to avoid overflow. With a spatula, push the batter to the outside of the pan pushing slightly up the walls. This will ensure that the cake will climb up the sides of the pan, giving you greater detail on the outside of the cake.

(4) Black or dark colored pans require a 25° heat reduction.

(5) After the cake is baked, cool the cake for 10 minutes (no more, no less) before inverting on a plate or cooling rack. Using hot pads, pick up the cake and gently shake the pan from side to side. A thumping sound indicates the cake is loose and ready to invert. Apply a glaze or simply dust with powdered sugar.

The photo of the "Bavaria" Bundt® pan and instructions for "The Perfect Bundt Cake" are provided with the permission of Nordic Ware.

Addendum: I recently came across a cake tester just for Bundt® cakes appropriately named the Bundt® Baking Thermometer. You just insert the thermometer into the center of the cake for 15 seconds. You know the cake is done when the tip turns red. Although I have yet to try it, I imagine it works (although not with the "Tunnel of Fudge" cake which remains soft in the center). The cake tester/thermometer is available from Nordic Ware and at http://www.kitchenkrafts.com/.

Feast of St. Honoré

Today, May 16, is the Feast of Saint-Honoré, the French patron saint of bakers and pastry chefs. There's even a special cake, Le Gâteau Saint-Honoré, to mark the occasion. No doubt every pâtissière in France is offering this classic cake today. It consists of a pastry base surrounded by a ring of pastry-cream laden profiteroles and crowned with caramel. Mon Dieu!

My paternal great-grandfather was named Honoré and although I never knew him, I'm compelled to think of him today and wonder about him. My daughter is researching her ancestry. Perhaps she will find something fascinating! Sacrébleu!

While I have no plans to create the famous French cake this week, I'll be baking a birthday cake for my daughter, as soon as she tells me what she would like. She's usually very specific, like "Chocolate-Orange Layer Cake with Grand Mariner Ganache adorned with a trio of Kumquats", or "Raspberry Almond Layer Cake with Framboise and Candied Rose Petals". Last year it was "Pineapple Chiffon Cake". One never knows. I suggested cupcakes for ease in transport. We'll see...

May is a great cake-baking month - there's Mother's Day, graduations, first communions, weddings and wedding showers, and, of course, birthdays. Even if you don't have a special occasion for which to bake a cake, bake one anyway in honor of St. Honoré, and share the wealth of deliciousness. You'll be glad you did.

Cranberry-Orange Upside Down Cake for Heidi

Late last night, my colleague and friend Heidi and I were e-mailing back and forth. It was getting on to midnight and both of us commented that we were having a stressful week. Like me, Heidi loves to bake and she agreed that baking is a great way to relieve stress. She said, "I'm in complete agreement on baking as a tool for calming the nerves: the concentration required in following a recipe precisely AND understanding the why behind that precision and technique, the cleaning up during the baking, smelling it finally coming into its own, pulling it out of the oven to see what it's become, letting it cool and finishing it off. It's a clean serenity with a big delicious pay-off at the end." Wow! Heidi's wordsmithing captured the essence of one of our favorite pastimes.

Although Heidi is twenty years my junior, it's comforting to know that certain pursuits cross generational boundries. Of course Heidi and I have other things in common. We graduated from the same college, we serve together on a not-for-profit board, we're both consultants serving the not-for-profit sector, we're both professional writers, and neither of us operates with a hidden agenda - what you see is what you get. Although Heidi is a "foodie", she also has concerns for those who are less fortunate, and especially for those who go hungry. She has been directly involved with providing nutritional lunches to low-income children. She has always said that if just one child comes back years from now to tell her that the food she helped to provide had a lasting positive effect, her efforts will have been worthwhile.

Heidi is a busy mom too, with a very active four-year old. While she enjoys baking from scratch, recipes that are streamlined have a certain appeal. This simple recipe "takes the cake". It can be made on a whim because it uses melted butter - you don't have to wait for the butter to soften - and it only requires a hand-mixer. Other fruit - blueberries, peaches, pineapple, bananas - even well-drained canned apricots - can be substituted. You can also swap lemon rind and extract for the orange or just add 2 teaspoons of pure vanilla extract.

CRANBERRY-ORANGE UPSIDE-DOWN CAKE

Generous tablespoon unsalted butter, softened
1 12-ounce bag (about 3 cups) fresh or frozen cranberries
2 cups sugar, divided
2 large eggs
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder, preferably aluminum free
1/4 teaspoon non-iodized salt
1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted
2 tablespoons milk
Grated rind of one large navel orange, colored part only
1 tablespoon pure orange extract

Preheat the oven to 350°. Melt the stick of butter and set aside. Generously grease a 9" cake pan with the tablespoon of butter. Spread the cranberries over the bottom and sprinkle with 1 cup of the sugar (reserve the other cup).

In a medium-sized mixing bowl, beat the eggs with an electric hand-mixer on high-speed until foamy. Add the remaining cup of sugar, the flour, baking powder, salt, melted butter, milk, orange rind and orange extract. Beat on medium speed for 1 minute until just combined. The batter will be thick.

Bake for 40-45 minutes or until a wooden toothpick or cake tester inserted in the center of the cake comes out clean. Cool on a wire rack for 30 minutes. Place a large cake plate on top of the cake pan and flip over. The cake may be served warm or at room temperature. You can gussie it up with a scoop of ice cream, but I like it plain. It makes a nice coffeecake as well as a dessert.

Vanilla Buttermilk Panna Cotta with Summer Berries

The beauty of Panna Cotta is in its remarkable simplicity. It's made with just a few ingredients - milk, cream, sugar, and gelatin - and on the surface, appears quite plain, until you eat a spoonful. It's light, silky and cool with a fresh dairy taste. Panna Cotta translates as "cooked cream" in Italian. A decade ago, we never heard much about this ethereal dessert. Now, it often supplants Crème Brûlée on dessert menus. It pairs beautifully with virtually any fruit and the contrasts of flavor and color, especially with berries, are stunning. Because Panna Cotta is less rich and not as sweet as other desserts, it's refreshing after a heavy meal or during the summer when our appetites are not so rapacious. It's elegant enough to serve at a dinner party but because it's so easy to prepare, it's equally welcome after a weeknight supper on a warm summer night.

Summer berries are ideal with Panna Cotta - raspberries, strawberries, blackberries, or blueberries. I like a mix - whatever berries are at their peak at the market. Be sure to rinse the berries in cool water shortly before you use them. You can use a colander, or my favorite method - in a salad spinner. Raspberries are particularly fragile. After rinsing, gently spread the raspberries on several layers of paper towels to dry them.

VANILLA BUTTERMILK PANNA COTTA WITH BERRIES

Cooking spray
2-1/2 teaspoons unflavored gelatin
1 cup whole milk
1 cup heavy cream
2 cups buttermilk
1/2 cup sugar, preferably superfine
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/8 teaspoon non-iodized salt

3 cups berries, rinsed and dried

Coat 8 6-ounce custard cups or ramekins with cooking spray. Set the cups on a baking sheet. Combine the milk and cream in a medium saucepan. Sprinkle the gelatin over the mixture and let it stand for 10 minutes. Cook the mixture, stirring constantly, over low heat until the gelatin dissolves (about 7-8 minutes). Add the sugar and salt. Increase the heat to medium and stir until the sugar dissolves. Remove from the heat and add the buttermilk and vanilla. Divide the mixture among the custard cups. Cover the entire baking sheet with plastic wrap and refrigerate until chilled - at least 6 hours or overnight.

When you are ready to serve the berries, cover each custard cup with a dessert plate and invert. Divide the berries among each serving. If the Panna Cotta doesn't slip right out, (1) run a thin knife around the edge of the custard cups and/or (2) rinse a kitchen towel in very hot water and wring. Set the cups on the warm damp towel for a few seconds.

Note: It's important not to add too much gelatin. The Panna Cotta should set up but not be as firm as a gelatin mold.

Cry Me a River - The Perils of Chopping Onions

You know how it is, you start chopping onions and you realize you didn't apply the waterproof mascara. Your eyes start to sting and your nose starts to run. Before long, rivulets of tears are streaming down your face. Your nextdoor neighbor rings the doorbell wanting to borrow the lawnmower, takes one look and asks if your husband just ran off with the girl from the video store. As for me, I used to start weeping uncontrollably while chopping onions and listening to Placido Domingo singing "Una Furtiva Lacrima" from Donizetti's "L'elisir d'amore". Hey, I was cooking Italian food - what did you expect?

Yes, I've tried all the homespun remedies: burning a candle close to the chopping board (my sleeve nearly caught fire); holding a piece of bread between my teeth (I started to drool); freezing the onions first (I wanted to chop the onions, not hack away at them); cutting the onions under water (not practical); spritzing the cutting board with vinegar (too smelly); keeping my mouth shut and breathing through my nose (seriously, anyone who knows me is aware that I can't keep my mouth shut for any length of time); drinking sips of water from the opposite side of a glass (oh, wait - that's for hiccups); and praying (I couldn't find a patron saint of onions but I did find one for cooks. St. Lawrence was martyred by being grilled on a gridiron. Frankly, I think he should be the patron saint of the backyard barbecue, a topic for another post).

Sure, I could use the food processor but do I really need to for a couple of onions? The mini food processor is a bit too small so I'd have to quarter the onions anyway. Either way, the tears would prevail. I could buy frozen chopped onions but for most tasks, it just doesn't feel right - I want to cook, not assemble.

The key to solving this dilemma was to put on my food science hat and find out why onions make us cry. I turned to food science guru Alton Brown (sort of a contemporary "Mr. Wizard" of the kitchen). The short answer? Sulfuric acid. Nasty, eh? Onions don't contain sulfuric acid. They do, however, release a gas that forms sulfuric acid when their ruptured surfaces come in contact with tears. The best defense, according to Brown, is to use a very sharp knife. Brown, in a Food Network "Good Eats Moment" explained that when you cut an onion, cells rupture releasing enzymes which break down nearby sulfur compounds into oxides and acids. These combine to make a gas. This gas takes up residence in your eyes and then mixes with your tears to form sulphuric acid. Ouch! When you use a sharp knife to chop an onion as opposed to a dull or serrated knife (or grater, for that matter), you damage less cells, which translates to less tears. About two years ago, I started to replace all my knives. I've since acquired new and better cutlery, and it has made all the difference.

Onion Goggles can also be of help. These cool looking unisex goggles protect your eyes from noxious fumes while chopping onions. They're anti-fog, come in three colors, and fit like regular glasses (but don't fit over regular glasses). The comfortable foam padding keeps them snug and unlike swimming goggles, they won't mess up your hair. They're available at Amazon.com, The Bakers Catalogue and other outlets for about $20 (see links). The combination of a sharp knife and the goggles should make your onion chopping nearly tear free. The best part for me? I don't wind up looking like a raccoon and the neighbors will have to gossip about somebody else.

The photograph of the Onion Goggles is used with permission of the nice folks at The Baker's Catalogue (King Arthur Flour).

Molecular Gastronomy

The famous theoretical physicist, John Archibald Wheeler said, "In any field, find the strangest thing and then explore it." For some, it's enough to prepare good food. Others are happy to eat good food, leaving its preparation to those who have a keen interest in cooking or who are, perhaps, more adept in the kitchen. Then there are those who read cookbooks like others read novels - staying awake late into the night pouring over pages of recipes and techniques. Finally, there are a few like me who enthusiastically engage in all of those activities but who are compelled to take the gastronomic experience to another level. We are the food science nerds.

It's not enough for me to be able to successfully craft a loaf of Russian Rye. I have to know WHY I was successful - or when I was first learning, why I FAILED. Through the years I've become fascinated with the science of baking. I've studied the biology of yeast; pondered the characteristics of various types of flour and the nature of gluten; ruminated over the transformation caused by the reaction of sugars and proteins, known as the Maillard Reaction - the phenomenon that gives bread its brown crust; and considered why my bread dough behaves so much differently in the summer than in winter.

The science of cooking is captivating, too. Why does an egg yolk facilitate the emulsion of oil and water in mayonnaise? Why do apples and artichokes darken when they're exposed to air? Why are blueberries blue? Why do microwaves cook some foods well and others poorly? Why does salt enhance sweetness? Why does a copper bowl produce more volume in egg whites? Why do we cry when chopping onions? Why does melted chocolate seize into a grainy solid unworkable mass when a mere drop of water is added - and can it be revived? When it comes to the culinary experience, I'm like an investigative reporter, never satisfied until I get the whole story.

When I was growing up, there was a man by the name of Don Herbert who hosted a show called "Watch Mr. Wizard", for which he won the Peabody Award. Mr. Wizard conducted all sorts of science experiments, many of which were simple and safe enough to be replicated by his young viewers at home. In 1983, Herbert created "Mr. Wizard's World", a jazzed up version of the original show. (Today we have "Beakman's World" and for food science, Alton Brown). Kids absolutely loved Mr. Wizard and he was undoubtedly responsible for helping thousands of young people develop more than a passing interest in science. I was one of those kids. Although I don't have a degree in the hard sciences, I've never wavered in my curiosity. I'm especially taken with particle physics and cosmology. I don't understand most of it (neither do the physicists) but that never discourages me from the pursuit. A classmate commented that I had "wildly diverse interests from physics to cooking". I replied that they're not diverse at all, but directly related. You can't create a loaf of homemade bread without being indisputably involved in biology, chemistry, physics, and mathematics.

The photo above is a variety of Broccoli called Romanesque Broccoli. It's characterized by a fractal appearance - it's most important feature being self-similarity. Fractal geometry was coined by Benoit Mandelbrot in the 1970s, (which is why I never heard of it in grammar school when I was studying the basics of Euclidean geometry). Romanesque Broccoli is a classic "fractal food". It's beauty is in its self-repeating motif that repeats indefinitely, each time smaller. If you were to place one tiny bit of the broccoli (actually a variant form of cauliflower) under a microscope you would see that it looked like the whole. Food science at its most compelling! Strange and beautiful and certainly worthy of exploration. Other examples of fractals in nature include crystals, snowflakes, and ferns.

The well-known computer programmer John Walker said that Romanesque Broccoli is, "so visually stunning an object that on first encounter it's hard to imagine you're looking at a garden vegetable rather than an alien artifact created with molecular nanotechnology. But of course, then you realise that vegetables are created with molecular nanotechnology, albeit the product of earthly evolution, not extraterrestrial engineering."

Hervé This, a physical chemist on the staff of the Institute National de la Recherche Agronomique in Paris, together with physicist Nicholas Kurti, originated the term "molecular gastronomy". Molecular gastronomy describes the scientific discipline concerning the study of physical and chemical processes that occur in cooking and baking. This has written two books on the subject, both designed for the general public and quite readable. His American friend, Harold McGee, has written on essentially the same topic (see my book list). These volumes are highly recommended, as they do indeed make for fun and intriguing reading.

Molecular gastronomy isn't a fad like low-carb diets, beer can chicken, nouvelle cuisine, or the pretentious food foams which are currently in fashion. It is, perhaps, a more academic term than "food science" which, as any culinary student can tell you, is a required part of their training. One thing for certain, Molecular Gastronomy is here to stay.

Why is it so important to know the how and why of the science of baking and cooking? Aside from enriching our brains and making us popular at cocktail parties, it makes us keenly aware of WHAT we're eating. Genetically modified tomatoes? Organic produce? Processed food laden with artificial ingredients? Fish contaminated with mercury? Blueberries loaded with healthful antioxidants? Understanding the science of food helps us to prepare better meals, reduce waste, debunk old wives' tales, make food more pleasurable, invent new and better ways to cook, devise new recipes, appreciate the thousands of tastes and nuances that fall upon our tongues, develop a healthy relationship with our food, and be truly conscious of our entire eating experience.

Cakes and Ale

In Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, Sir Toby Belch says, "Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?" Gosh, I hope not! The Bard was referring to the good life when he wrote of "cakes and ale". The phrase, however, made me think of how much I like Gingersnaps with beer. I've eaten Gingersnaps, and their thinner spicier Swedish cousin, "Pepparkakor" for most of my life. I always liked them, but most of the time I'd have preferred something chocolate. Then one day, a young man with whom I worked suggested the idea of Gingersnaps with beer. Dennis is half German, half Greek and has a most discriminating palate. I tried it and discovered a match made in heaven.

I like a spicy Belgian or Belgian-style ale with Gingersnaps. A good choice might be Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. Another option might be Blue Moon Belgian White Ale, which is flavored with coriander and orange peel. I'm not a beer expert, so I'll leave the choice up to you. Among the hundreds of beer and ale offerings, there's a brew for everyone.

These Gingersnaps have a bite, providing your spices are fresh. Open the bottles - if you don't smell anything, discard them! While you're at it, check the expiration dates on all of your herbs and spices - if they've been in the pantry since the Gulf War, it's time to replace them. Crystallized ginger can be found in the spice or bulk foods section of most full-service grocers. It's also available at Sur La Table, Williams-Sonoma, and The Ginger People (see link).

DOUBLE GINGER GINGERSNAPS

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons ground ginger
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
1/8 cup crystallized ginger, very finely chopped*
1/2 teaspoon non-iodized salt
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
1/4 cup vegetable shortening (I use Crisco® sticks)
1 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
1 large egg
1/4 cup light molasses (I use "Grandma's Original")
Grated rind of one medium orange and one lemon, colored part only
1 cup granulated sugar for rolling

Preheat the oven to 350°.

Sift the flour, baking soda, ginger, cinnamon, cardamom, cloves and salt into a medium-sized bowl and set aside.

Combine the butter, shortening and brown sugar in a large bowl. Beat with an electric stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment or a hand mixer on medium-high speed until fluffy. Add the egg, molasses and citrus rinds and beat until combined. Add the crystallized ginger. Reduce the speed to low to incorporate the chopped ginger and then add the flour mixture and beat until just combined.

Line two baking sheets with parchment paper, nonstick foil, or nonstick baking liners.

Roll the dough into 1" balls and then roll each in the granulated sugar to coat evenly (an easy way to do this is to put the sugar in a shallow disposable food container with a lid, put 5 or 6 balls in at a time, snap on the lid, and shake back and forth).

Arrange the cookies 2 inches apart on the baking sheets. Bake one sheet at a time for about 11-12 minutes, until the cookies are puffed, light brown around the edges and cracked on top.

Cool for 5 minutes and carefully transfer the cookies to a wire rack to cool completely. The cookies may be stored in an airtight container for 1 week. Yields about 3 dozen cookies.

*Note: lightly coating or spraying your knife with cooking oil will make chopping the ginger easier.

Date-Oatmeal Bars

In the 1965 film, "The Flight of the Phoenix", a single-engine aircraft (piloted by Jimmy Stewart) crashes in the Sahara desert. One of the surviving passengers asks what they're going to do for food (a man after my own heart). The character played by Peter Finch replies, "As far as food is concerned, we seem to be singularly fortunate. There appears to be an almost unlimited supply of pressed dates on board." I love dates, so I figure I would have managed just fine with those guys - providing I had an ample supply of SPF 50 sunscreen, plenty of moisturizer, and a several cases of Fiji water. I love that film (I own it) so when I know I'm going to watch it, I get a small bag of Medjools to much on - or bake some date bars - just to get into the spirit of things.

Nutritionally speaking, dates are high in iron and potassium and contain modest amounts of folate and a small amount of vitamin A, and the B vitamins. Dates have been a staple food of the Middle East for millennia. In fact, some evidence points to their having been cultivated for more than 6,000 years! There are at least 40 varities of dates, generally divided into soft, semisoft, and dry. Medjools are in the semisoft category. Dates grow in the Middle East, North Africa, Southern California, and Arizona. Suffice to say, along with olives, grapes, honey, and wheat, dates are one of our oldest foods.

Date bars are remarkably easy to make and are a real comfort food. Please use Medjool dates for this recipe. They are plump, sweet, and soft - and far more delicious than the familiar dates in a box (which can be hard and sugary). I find Medjools in the bulk foods section at Whole Foods. Ask to sample one before you buy to make sure they are soft. Medjools are quite wrinkled and sometimes have a thin white film of sugar on the surface, which is fine. The dates are sold with the pits, so you'll have to remove them. It's a sticky chore but it doesn't take long to do. Medjools can also be ordered from Oasis Date Gardens (see link). This recipe makes a big batch - plenty to share.

DATE-OATMEAL BARS

DATE FILLING

3 cups Medjool dates, pitted (buy about 1-1/4 pounds)
1-1/2 cups water
1/4 cup sugar
2 teaspoons pure orange extract (optional)

OATMEAL CRUMB MIXTURE

2-1/2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
1-1/2 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 light brown sugar, packed
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon non-iodized salt
2 sticks unsalted butter, divided into 4 pieces and softened

Preheat the oven to 350. Butter a 13"x 9" pan and set aside.

In a heavy, medium-sized saucepan, combine the dates, water and sugar. Bring to a boil over moderate heat. Reduce the heat and simmer, stirring frequently, until thickened and jamlike, about 10-12 minutes. Remove from the heat, add the optional orange extract and cool for about 10 minutes.

In a large bowl, stir the oats, flour, brown sugar, baking soda, and salt together. Add the butter and crumble with your fingers until blended. Press half of the crumb mixture evenly in the bottom of the pan. Spread with the filling. Top with the remaining crumb mixture and press lightly. Bake 25 to 30 minutes until light brown. Cool on a wire rack for ten minutes and cut into bars or squares while still warm. The bars may be stored in an airtight container for 2 days, in the refrigerator for 1 week or in the freezer for 1 month. Makes 24 or 36 bars, depending on size.

Break Out the Good Dishes

We human beings are a strange lot. We spend a lifetime acquiring things that we're afraid to use. The precious jewels and luxury timepieces reside in a safe deposit box or home safe in favor of wearing faux gems. The Mercedes convertable comes out of the garage only on days when the weather is perfect. The $800 suit stays in the garment bag waiting for a state occasion and (this is my favorite) we rent designer handbags while we keep the well-crafted ones we purchased in chamois sacks in the closet. Does this make sense? I think not. I'm reminded of a woman I met who had a gorgeous state-of-the art kitchen. When I asked her how she was putting her new custom copper mixer to work she replied, "Oh, I don't know how to bake but the copper finish matches the hood on my range!"

My mother used to say that one should never drink 12-year-old single malt scotch out of a Flintstones jelly glass. Use the Waterford, for heaven's sake! People make shrines out of their china cabinets - not to mention their dining rooms (come on, admit it, you know who you are). You've seen them - beautiful cabinets with subdued track lighting, some as wide as eight feet built right into the wall - with enough shelf and cabinet space to house the reference section of the New York Public Library. All manner of china, crystal, silver service and flatware are on display, along with the requisite porcelain tchotchkes and candle holders (if you're housing one of Fabergé's lost Imperial eggs, you get a pass). There they stay, except perhaps for Christmas dinner or a papal visit. Goodness, what if Great-Great-Aunt Violet's turkey platter bites the dust? What then? How can we move on?

There was a relative on my former husband's side who had some lovely china and crystal residing in an attractive curio. During the 18 years of that marriage and multiple visits to said relation, we never ate on anything but paper plates and certainly not in the dining room. If the weather was nice, we ate in the back yard (certainly plasticware is appropriate around the pool and with
small children in tow). During the winter months, we gathered in the basement. Why? To protect the good china! God forbid anyone should shatter a wine glass. We gather and hoard and protect. Then we get on in years and pass the stuff along to our children and grandchildren who repeat the process. Generations of families relocating from one place to another, wrapping and packing all the delicate stuff with extraordinary care so the movers don't break it. Then, back into the cabinet for another ten or twenty years, and so it goes. Nonsense!

There are exceptions of course, and many of the young couples getting married today opt for a more practical approach. My daughter and son-in-law registered for porcelain place settings - but they chose classic white in an affordable range. Their flatware is 18/10 stainless, so if a fork gets caught in the disposal, life can go on without a fuss. Their stemless lead crystal makes great sense as it's less apt to get broken - but if it does, replacements don't cost a week's salary.

Look, if you're going to enjoy preparing and eating good food, serve it on the good stuff - even if it's just for youself - and sit at the dining room table instead of standing at the kitchen counter. Go ahead, live on the edge, open that bottle of Shiraz and pour it into your best crystal. Throw caution to the wind and get out the Royal Doulton or Lenox or Coalport and treat yourself. Great-Great Aunt Violet can't object and you'll still have a few things to pass on to your children. The better thing to pass along to them is the idea that some things in life are meant to be enjoyed and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich served on a pretty plate accompanied by a double-damask dinner napkin is one of life's small and civilized pleasures.

Caveat: Do not, however, store fruit juice or wine in a lead-crystal pitcher. The acids can cause the lead to leach out and that, my friends, is a toxic situation.

Serendipitous Jasmine Rice with Coconut Milk and Fleur de Sel

Last evening I dropped an entire half-gallon of milk on the kitchen floor. Of course it was a glass bottle that shattered in 846,836 pieces. The shards of glass flew under the refrigerator and sprayed in a circular pattern all over the kitchen. The milk turned into a river of Amazonian proportions, with tributaries branching out in all directions. Oh yes, that was fun. I grumpily went off to bed without my warm milk and honey after gingerly carrying the triple-bagged glass out to the trash (while wearing draw-string jammie pants and a funny shirt).

This morning, I put some Jasmine rice on to simmer (I really have to buy a steamer). Once in awhile I eat a small bowl of rice for breakfast with a little sugar and cinnamon. Lately, I've been wanting to try Baby Basmati and Kalijira rice because their tiny grains cook in less than ten minutes - ideal for morning. The sugar and cinnamon having already been sprinkled, I reached for the milk. Oh yes, the clumsy demon took care of that. There was a can of evaporated milk in the pantry. No, that wouldn't work. I spied several cans of coconut milk and one that was labeled "light". Now I was in business. Necessity is indeed the mother of invention. Although even the "light" coconut milk has mucho fat compared to fat-free dairy, it's delicious and I didn't need much. Suddenly, the good angel tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Hey, doofus, how about a finishing salt? I retrieved the French Fleur de Sel and set about to create my early morning repast.

The Fleur de Sel brought out the exotic flavor of the rice and the delicacy of the coconut milk and married perfectly with the cinnamon. The slight crunch of the salt also provided textural interest. The only missing element was perhaps a bit of fruit. Thanks to the recent trade agreement between the U.S. and India, Alfonso, Kesar and Banganpally mangoes will soon be in season.

JASMINE RICE WITH COCONUT MILK AND FLEUR DE SEL

1 cup cooked Jasmine or Basmati rice
1/3 cup light coconut milk, well-shaken
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1-2 teaspoons sugar
1/4 teaspoon fleur de sel
1/3 cup chopped mango (optional)

Put the rice in a bowl. Sprinkle with the cinnamon and sugar. Add the optional mango. Pour the coconut milk over the rice. Sprinkle with the salt.

Note: Regular and light coconut milk can be found in the Asian section of your market. Do not use "cream of coconut" which has sugar added. It's fine for pina coladas and some desserts and is usually found in the liquor section.

Fleur de sel or "flower of salt" is so named because it smells like violets when harvested. It's a coarse, unprocessed, hand-gathered salt (which involves raking the top layer of crystals from salt beds), so it tends to be expensive, but a little goes a long way. Its delicate flavor adds brightness and brings out the flavors of whatever you're serving. Its crunch adds textural contrast. Maldon sea salt is a good substitute. Finishing salts are just that -they're meant to be added to a dish just before serving. Some finishing salts have a smokey taste (such as Hawaiian black salt) and others are an eye-catching red, pink (such as Himalayan), or orange. Each has a distinctive flavor (coarse grey sea salt has a briny taste) and use. They can be found at Whole Foods, Sur la Table, Williams-Sonoma, Dean & DeLuca, and at several online outlets.

Emergency Blender Chocolate Cupcakes: Zap-Zap! You're Ready to Bake!

Last month I was looking for a dessert recipe as a take-along for an impromtu celebration. It was already the middle of the afternoon and I was up against the clock. Fortunately, I had clipped a recipe for "Emergency Blender Cupcakes" from the Chicago Tribune and tucked it in my "Chocolate Desserts" file. I'm so glad I did because not only were these the easiest cupcakes I'd ever made, they were the best - chocolately and moist through and through. I've made them three times since and they've been perfect each time. They can be made in a blender or a bowl - either way, it's a snap. The best part? The ingredients were already in my pantry - no special trips to the market! There's no doubt that these delectable treats are now my "go to" recipe for chocolate cupcakes.

The recipe was created by pastry chef and cookbook author Abigail Johnson Dodge. Abby Dodge is also a contributing editor at Fine Cooking magazine and founded the magazine's test kitchen. After college, Abby studied pastry-making in Paris at LaVarenne and later worked under Michelin 3-star chefs Michel Guérard and Guy Savoy. Despite her rigorous formal training and high-end experience, Abby likes to bake approachable comfort desserts on a regular basis (perhaps because she's also a mom). This streamlined chocolate cupcake recipe appears in her book "The Weekend Baker", a warm and friendly volume written for home bakers. Abby was kind enough to grant me permission to publish the recipe, which includes the equally quick and delicious "Fudgy Frosting". Thanks Abby!

The recipe here is exactly as written by Abby Dodge. If I'm in a hurry, I make the frosting first, to give it a chance to set up. Please see my notes at the end of the recipe.

EMERGENCY CHOCOLATE CUPCAKES

1 cup (4-1/2 ounces/128 grams) all-purpose flour
1/2 cup (1-1/2 ounces/43 grams) unsweetened natural cocoa powder* (not Dutch process), sifted if lumpy
1 cup (8 ounces/227 grams) granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon table salt
3/4 cup (6 fluid ounces/175 ml) hot water
1/2 cup (4 fluid ounces/117 ml) canola or corn oil
1 large egg
1-1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

Position an oven rack on the middle rung. Heat the oven to 375 degrees (190°C). Line 12 regular-sized muffin cups with paper or foil liners.

Combine the flour, cocoa, sugar, baking soda and salt in a blender (I combine the dry ingredients in a 4-cup Pyrex® glass measuring cup and whisk them together and then pour the mixture into the blender). Cover with the lid and blend on medium speed until blended. Pour in the water, oil, egg, and vanilla. Cover with the lid and blend on medium-high until smooth and well blended, stopping to scrape down the sides once or twice. Alternatively, combine the flour, cocoa, sugar, baking soda and salt in a medium bowl (one with a pouring spout and handle would be ideal). Whisk until blended. Pour in the water, oil, and vanilla. Add the egg and whisk until blended, about one minute.

Pour into the lined muffin cups, dividing evenly. Bake until a tooth-pick or cake tester inserted in the center of one cupcake comes out clean, 17 to 19 minutes. Transfer the muffin pan to a rack to cool for about 10 minutes, and then carefully remove the cupcakes from the pan and set them on the rack to cool completely. (At this point, the unfrosted cupcakes can be covered in plastic and stored at room temperature for up to 3 days or frozen for up to 1 month.)

FUDGY FROSTING

8 ounces (227 grams) bittersweet chocolate*, finely chopped
8 tablespoons (4 ounces/113 grams) unsalted butter, cut into 4 pieces
1 cup (8 fluid ounces/233 ml) sweetened condensed (not evaporated) milk; measure carefully - do not use the entire can of milk
1/4 cup (2 fluid ounces/58ml) light corn syrup
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Pinch of table salt

While the cupcakes are baking, melt the chocolate and butter in a double boiler or in the microwave. Add the condensed milk, corn syrup, vanilla, and salt. Whisk until blended. Set aside at room temperature, whisking frequently. It will continue to thicken as it cools. When the frosting is completely cool, cover the bowl with plastic wrap until the cupcakes are completely cool and ready to frost. No need to refrigerate. (At this point, the cooled frosting can be covered with plastic wrap and stored at room temperature for up to 1 day or in the refrigerator for up to 2 weeks. Bring the frosting to room temperature before using it.)

Using a small spatula or table knife (I use a small offset cake spatula), spread 2-3 tablespoons frosting on top of each cupcake. (You can also pipe the frosting through a pastry bag with a star tip for a fancier look.) Dust with colored sprinkles, if desired.

*Notes: I use Hershey's natural cocoa for this recipe and it works perfectly. Semisweet chocolate works as well as bittersweet. I've found that there's no need to finely chop the chocolate. I just use an 8-ounce scored bar and break it into 4 pieces. Use the bowl method if your blender container is on the small side or if your blender motor labors a bit. I actually make 11 cupcakes from this recipe which produces a slightly taller end-product. If you make 11 cupcakes, be sure to fill the remaining empty cup with water so it doesn't burn in the oven. Feel free to frost with a recipe of your own choosing. For some reason, guys like chocolate cake with vanilla buttercream - but for me, it's got to be chocolate!

Strozzapreti with Asparagus and Smoked Salmon

You might want to strangle your parish priest for putting you through those long homilies every Sunday, but why not invite him to dinner instead? You may be able to persuade him to cut his sermon time in half (and spend more time on the golf course) by plying him with a little pasta and wine. May I suggest Strozzapreti with Asparagus and Smoked Salmon? Never heard of this strange sounding pasta?

Strozzapreti means "strangle the priest" or "priest choker" in Italian. There are several legends to explain its origin. One is that in the Italian countryside, it's the custom to invite the parish priest for Sunday dinner. As the priest is often poor, he rarely buys meat. The host, in an effort to conserve the roast, fills the priest with pasta to the choking point during the first course so he won't overindulge on the meat during the second course.

Strozzapreti is a handmade rustic pasta that hails from the Emilia-Romagna region of Italy near the top of the boot - the same region that produces Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, balsamic vinegar, Prosciutto di Parma, and Tagliatelle alla Bolognese - so it's in good company. It's hand-rolled into irregular cylinders about three inches long, but is rarely uniform in size. The food purveyors at Dean & DeLuca call it "penne with an attitude". It's a bit capricious as it doesn't always cook evenly so you have to watch it carefully while cooking - better a little underdone than mushy. Test a couple of the cylinders to make sure they are "al dente".

Although it may be hard to find at big chain grocers, Strozzapreti is available at Williams-Sonoma, Dean & DeLuca, and many other speciality food markets. I have found it without difficulty at the gourmet market at Sam's Wines & Spirits in the Chicago area.

I like the combination of asparagus and smoked salmon at this time of year when fresh asparagus is readily available. You may substitute a pound of shrimp (toss the raw shrimp in at the same time as the asparagus) for the salmon or whatever will encourage your parish priest (or any clergyperson) to get off the pulpit sooner. It can be served as a first course or for lunch, as well as a main dish. Pair with a Sauvignon Blanc or an unoaked Chardonnay.

STROZZAPRETI WITH ASPARAGUS & SMOKED SALMON

1 cup fresh breadcrumbs made from crustless French bread
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons finely snipped chives
1 lb. strozzapreti or penne pasta
2 lbs fresh asparagus, trimmed and diagonally cut into 2-inch pieces
1-1/2 cups heavy cream
2/3 cup low salt chicken broth
1/3 cup dry white wine or white vermouth
juice and rind (colored part only) of 1 large lemon
4-6 oz. smoked salmon, cut into julienne strips
freshly ground black pepper

Melt the butter in a small skillet over medium heat. Add the breadcrumbs and chives and stir until the crumbs brown, about 4 minutes. Set aside.

Cook the pasta in a large pot of boiling salted water for about 5 minutes. Add the asparagus and cook until the asparagus is crisp-tender and the pasta is al dente, about 5-8 minutes (watch carefully). Drain the pasta and the asparagus and return to the pot. Meanwhile, bring the cream to a simmer over medium heat. Add the warm cream and the remaining ingredients to the pot and toss well with the burner on low until heated through. Add the bread crumb-chive mixture and a few grinds of the pepper and toss again. Serve immediately.

Today's post is dedicated to the memory of Reverend Victor J. Sivore. Father Sivore was half Irish, half Italian and one hundred percent lovable. He was a dear friend and a wonderful priest and shepherd. Wherever you are Vic, mangia, mangia!

Spanish Rice and Turkey Brazil

My college experience was a remarkably happy one. I attended a small Catholic institution 30 miles from Chicago. The school was a little gem residing in an idyllic setting. Our enrollment was under 800 and we had a faculty-student ratio of 11 to 1. Everybody knew your name - from the college president to the guy who trimmed the bushes. We were a family in a nurturing - albeit academically rigorous - environment. It was nearly perfect. There was only one drawback: the cafeteria food. Suffice to say that there were many plaintive calls to home asking for pizza money.

In the best of circumstances, institutional food is rarely desirable. In the worst, it isn't even identifiable. I have a vivid recollection of my first day on campus eyeing a large container of carrot-raisin salad when one of the "raisins" flew right out of the bowl. I'll pass, thank you. Then there was the taupe gelatin mold. I like taupe in a suit or a sofa, but not as jello. How did the food service come to such a hue? By melting red, green, and yellow leftover gelatin and recasting it - an effort toward recycling food to save money. The addition of canned fruit cocktail with its day-glo red cherries didn't help and made the whole thing look like it came out of a bad horror movie such as "The Revenge of the Cafeteria Workers". It was a shimmering, wiggling, rubbery mass that might be mistaken as the result of nuclear fallout. A biological hazard with a seemingly long half-life. With the exception of the cottage cheese, the "salad" table, as far as I was concerned, was officially off-limits.

There were a few highlights and we always had the makings of a PB&J sandwich. Saturday was "steak and shrimp" night and although the steaks were something like "grade x", the french fried shrimp were acceptable and with a little cocktail sauce and a squirt of lemon, were pretty tasty. The sour cream and butter laden baked potatoes passed muster and there was chocolate cake and ice cream, with seconds if you were so inclined (I was) - but only on Saturdays. I was young and lean and had the metobolism of a roadrunner so I could put down a fair amount of groceries. My third floor dorm mates and I would often eat dinner at 5 and then order a couple of large pizzas or a sack of Italian beef sandwiches to be consumed during the "Mary Tyler Moore Show" in the early evening. "Creature Features" came on at 10:30 and we'd contentedly munch on candy bars while we watched monster movies and wondered if the gelatin mold would show up as one of the characters.

One of the things that human beings seem to need is certitude. It's the reason we're hooked on routines. Certitude gives us security and makes us feel safe - most of the time. Among the cafeteria constants were Spanish Rice and Turkey Brazil. You could count on their presence as surely as night follows day. In fact, Spanish Rice was served every day at lunch and dinner during my entire four years as a student. I have nothing against Spanish Rice - but every day for heaven's sake? The "Turkey Brazil" was another matter. It was served no less than three times per week, the only constant being the water chestnuts - the rest was unknown - worthy of a spot on "Unsolved Mysteries".

How the food service came up with the name "Turkey Brazil" is also a mystery. I suppose it just sounded more exotic than "This Week's Leftovers Casserole". I doubt the Brazilians have such a dish, although they have a heady sugarcane spirit called cachaça which makes a potent drink called caipirinha. It's a wonderful drink going down but if you're not careful, you'll wind up with a rubber mallet headache for days. I never actually ate the Turkey Brazil as I didn't think food should be frightening. A classmate once tried to salvage it with a healthy dose of Tabasco, but it was a lost cause.

Sadly, the college has closed and the cheerful cafeteria with its beautiful view is a distant memory. There were some good times in that dining hall, like the turkey-with-all-the-trimmings banquet the week before Thanksgiving break and the pie eating contest, which I won my junior year (OK, I got sick but it was worth the pain). I remember the "all-you-can-eat-sundae" Sundays and sitting around the cafeteria after breakfast with my classmates trying to unravel the mysteries of the universe. A few years ago, I returned to the college for a big reunion. It was a three-day affair with the Saturday luncheon being served in the cafeteria. On that day, I half expected to see Spanish Rice and Turkey Brazil. Instead, I found a lovely catered event with white tablecloths and flowers, proving that you can indeed go home again, but it just won't be the same.

Like most people, I have a few regrets - things I might have done. I often wonder if I'd started a pizza business in a college town, if I would have been able to retire years ago.

Chocolate and the Art of Diplomacy

A few years ago, when I headed a not-for-profit institution in Chicago, I was asked to entertain a group of young would-be not-for-profit executives from Belarus. The reason for their visit to the United States was to learn how to effectively manage their organizations. Here in the U.S. we refer to the not-for-profit sector as "The Third Sector". We have scores of nonprofits so our Eastern European counterparts must think we know how to run them.

Belarus is a small country in Eastern Europe that borders Russia, the Ukraine, Poland, Lithuania, and Latvia. Its capital is the city of Minsk. Without going into a long political or economic commentary (I have a degree in Political Science but I'll leave that to the experts), it's safe to say that the people of Belarus have had their challenges. Formerly a part of the Soviet Union, Belarus declared its independence in 1991. The populace of Belarus speaks Russian, as well as Belarusian, Polish, and Ukrainian. My new found friends spoke mostly Russian and had not yet mastered the English language. I was in a cultural, if not diplomatic quandary. How do I break the ice? How do I communicate? How do I reach across and build a bridge? I have a friend who has a degree in Foreign Service from Georgetown. Why I didn't think to call her I cannot say – hindsight. Suddenly, the light went on ... chocolate!

I bought bags and bags of foil-wrapped chocolate candy and miniature chocolate candy bars. I brought several cut-glass bowls from home (didn't I say you can never have too many bowls?) and filled them with the chocolate. When my international colleagues arrived at my office, I was ready! It was a wonderful meeting, a complete success ... seven of us munching happily on chocolate. They were happy, they listened, they understood ... I listened, I understood. At the conclusion of our gathering, I filled little bags with the chocolate, so my guests could take some along. Ahh ... so this is diplomacy! I'm good at this! Ambassador potential! The experience left me wondering if world leaders at summit conferences concentrated more on what they had in common - FOOD - they might get along a little better. As James Beard remarked, "Food is our common ground, a universal experience." Maybe there should be summit meetings disguised as food conferences. A chocolate convention instead of a Geneva convention. Butter instead of guns. I'm reminded of Madhur Jaffrey's comments regarding America's nuclear and trade pact with India. India gets nuclear fuel for its energy and America gets Indian mangoes - perhaps India's greatest culinary gift (if you've never had one of the seasonally available mangoes from India, I implore you to do so).

As I was recently patting myself on the back for being such a diplomat, I came across Dorie Greenspan's recipe for "World Peace Cookies" so called, because a neighbor of Dorie's is convinced that these fantastic chocolate cookies (originally the creation of Parisian pastry chef Pierre Hermé) could help ensure world peace. I quite agree. In an effort to foster continued harmony, Dorie was kind enough to give me permission to publish the recipe, which can also be found in her book, "Baking from My Home to Yours". Thanks, Dorie.

Got to run - I have to update my resume so I can send it off to the United Nations.

WORLD PEACE COOKIES

1¼ cups all-purpose flour
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 cup plus 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
2/3 cup light-brown sugar, packed
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon fleur de sel* or 1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
5 ounces bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, chopped into chips, or a generous 3/4 cup store-bought mini chocolate chips

In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, cocoa, and baking soda.

Working with an electric mixer, beat the butter until it is soft and creamy. Add the sugars, the salt, and the vanilla and beat for another 2 minutes. Reduce the mixer speed to low and add the dry ingredients, mixing only until they just disappear into the dough. You want to mix this dough as little as possible once the flour is added. Toss in the chocolate pieces and mix only to incorporate.

Turn the dough out onto a work surface, squeeze it so it sticks together, gather it into a ball, and divide the ball in half. Working with one piece of dough at a time, shape it into logs about 1½ inches in diameter and about 9 inches long. (Make sure the logs are solid—if they feel as if they’ve got holes in the center, flatten and roll them again.) Wrap the dough in plastic and chill the logs for at least 2 hours or up to 2 days.

Before baking, center a rack in the oven and preheat to 325° F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper, nonstick aluminum foil, or silicone baking mats.

Working with a sharp knife, slice the logs into ½-inch-thick rounds. (Don’t worry if the rounds break—just squeeze the bits back together again.) Place the cookies on the sheets, leaving about 1 inch of spread space between them.

Bake only one sheet of cookies at a time and bake each sheet for 12 minutes—they won’t look done, but they’ll firm as they cool. Put the baking sheet on a cooling rack and let the cookies stand until they reach room temperature. Repeat with the second sheet of cookies.

* Fleur de sel is available at Whole Foods, Sur La Table and other specialty shops. The “wow” factor in these cookies is the salt which intensifies the chocolate. It’s impossible to eat just one of these fantastic treats.