Don't That Beet All

So, I have a confession to make that might annoy some of you.  I'm going to whisper it in the hopes that you'll hear me out.

I hate beets.

As in, I really loathe the things.  I'm pretty open-minded when it comes to fruits and vegetables; I've even trained myself to like Brussels sprouts.  But, let's be real here, blog world.  Beets taste like dirt.  And no one likes to eat dirt.  Not to mention, they stain everything, they have no pleasing aroma, and I can cook a myriad of other vegetables in far less time.  What's to like?  Seriously.

However, in the spirit of embarking on adventures in my life, I gave them another shot; after all, there was the Brussels sprouts turnaround.  I scoured a multitude of resources trying to find the one recipe that would alter the course of my beet history; eventually I landed on the one I'm going to present below.  Yes, it involved roasting the beets, which seemed rather time intensive, but then all I had to do was throw them in a salad, and that seemed easy enough.  Maybe this could work out after all...

Roasted Beet and Goat Cheese Salad

First, I roasted a pound of beets in the oven.  I double-wrapped the (well-cleaned) beets in foil, sprinkled them with salt, added some fresh thyme, and roasted them at 425°F for a little over an hour.  If you're using smaller beets than I did, you may get away with 45 minutes or so, but mine were larger and needed the extra time.

This foil party had sick beets.

While the beets were roasting, I toasted some walnuts in a cast iron skillet over medium heat for a few minutes until they were fragrant.

Posting a picture of something this easy seems nuts.

I then tossed some mixed greens in a glass bowl and began work on my vinaigrette.  It's a pretty basic recipe.  I started with 1/4 c. white wine vinegar, added .5 tsp. of the Vermont Maple mustard I'm so fond of (although Dijon would work fine), as well as .5 tsp. salt, and the zest and juice of half an orange.  Mix these well, then whisk the ingredients together while streaming in half a cup of olive oil.  Voila, vinaigrette.

Bowl of lettuce.  (Now this is art, people.)

Zesty.

Once the beets were done roasting (a knife will slide all the way through them easily when they're ready), I opened the foil packet, drained off the liquid, and let them cool slightly before trying to peel away the skins.  When they're still warm, this is pretty easy to do, although they didn't peel off effortlessly like the Internet makes it sound they will.  I did have to use a paring knife to clean them up a bit afterward.  Once they were peeled, I sliced them thinly into rounds, into then halved the rounds to make crescent moon shaped beet slices.  Then, I cut up an apple similarly to give the salad some brightness.

Roasted beets.

 

Sliced apple.

At this point, it was just a matter of dumping everything over the lettuce, giving it a good toss, and crumbling some goat cheese on top.  Easy enough.

Salad before the cheese.

 

Salad with the cheese.

So, the real question is, did this make me like beets?  

Nope.  Not at all.  Not even a little.

I didn't pick them out, mind you, but they still tasted vaguely like dirt, and goat cheese is truly enough earthiness for me.  So, now I'm throwing it out to all of you.  Make me like beets.  Truly, I want to.  Comment, leave me a recipe, tell me what I'm doing wrong.  I'm open to ideas.

-John

Baking Science: Bake a Better Biscuit

I think a lot of people fear baking because they've heard it's a science, and they feel like if they make small mistakes the product won't turn out okay.  And there's not much avoiding the truthfulness in that statement.  Baking is a science:  creating the perfect texture, fostering a suitable rise, and developing complex flavor are all dependent on key scientific factors such as temperature, moisture control, and so on.  Still, this doesn't have to be scary.  Understanding some basic science gives you power--power to fix your baking mistakes and power to avoid them in the first place.  So, today, we're going to tackle a ubiquitous southern breakfast food.  Let's bake a better biscuit, ya'll.

Okay, so the basics first.  Flours have different levels of protein.  This protein, when combined with liquid and a little elbow grease, is what creates gluten.  Gluten provides structure which translates into a tougher/chewier mouthfeel--great for artisan breads and bagels, less so for biscuits and cakes.  So, making a good biscuit that isn't tough means minimizing gluten and allowing the gluten that does develop a nice spa relaxation period prior to baking.  Also, it means that we need to start a good biscuit recipe with an appropriate flour.  If you wonder why so many cooks in the south swear by White Lily (or Martha White), the reason is scientific (though I doubt they all know it).  It has a good % or two less protein than a normal all-purpose flour.   This creates less gluten, thus a softer texture, thus a better taste.   So, now you're checking your pantry and you don't have White Lily or Martha White.  Have no fear.  Many people circumvent the necessity of particular brands by combining two different types of flours: all purpose and cake flour.  Cake flour is essentially flour that has been processed (usually bleached) to have a lower protein content (even lower than White Lily).  So, using halfsies of both creates a homemade White Lily protein content.   Now, using the knowledge above, you can tweak your flour combo's protein content to get the cakeiness, or flakiness, or hockeypuckosity that you desire. 

Speaking of flakiness, I should probably address that next.  Flakiness in baked goods is created by chunks of fat that separate dough into layers.  This fat will melt and tenderize the baked good, but it will also allow the layers to solidify separately as they bake.   If you're wondering why shortening (or lard) is so often called for in biscuit recipes (and pie doughs), it's because it has a higher melting point than butter; this prevents it from melting as easily as you work with it and while the product bakes.  The longer the fat remains solid, the more time the layers have to solidify.  If you want a really flaky biscuit, there's really no beating shortening or lard.  However, that's not to say you can't get a flaky biscuit without it.   My recipe uses just butter, and it is perfectly flaky--it just requires a little extra work.

Lastly, before I drop my normal recipe, I should add that buttermilk is key.  It adds flavor, it tenderizes the dough, and it helps leaven the final product.  I swear by Cruze Farm buttermilk, and you should, too.  Usually, I allow for lots of substitutions in my recipes, but this is one ingredient I truly believe necessary.

All that for a biscuit recipe. Hmm.

Biscuits ala Sides

This makes 5 -large- biscuits, which is how I prefer them. If you're making smaller ones, then you can expect more, obviously.

Dry Ingredients

1 cup AP flour and 1 cup cake flour
(Remember that if you have Martha White or White Lily flour that you can ignore this mixing.)
1.8 Tbsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
7 Tbsp. butter

Sift the flours well in a bowl.  Then top with 7 Tbsp. of cold butter.   It even helps to freeze it for a little bit beforehand.  Cold butter means less chance of it melting before it gets into your product.   If it melts, it won't affect the flavor, but it will prevent a flaky biscuit with proper rise.  You will then cut in the butter.  I love baking by hand, but I have warm hands, and that's just an utter fail for this kind of thing, so I use a pastry cutter (whoa, run-on).  If you have cooler hands and work quickly, feel free to rub it in by hand (or, if you're using shortening) or use two knives like your grandmother taught you.  Almost every recipe I've ever seen calls for the butter to be cut into pea-size pieces.   One of the best pieces of advice I ever received was to stop a little sooner--chickpea sized pieces.  Undoubtedly the butter will be worked into the dough a little bit as you bring it together, flatten it out to chill, cut the biscuits, etc.  This gives you a little extra flakiness insurance.  I recommend the same thing for pie dough, by the way.

Wet Ingredients

2/3 cup buttermilk (Cruze Farm if you're from around these parts)
1 egg yolk
2 Tbsp. sugar

Combine these ingredients well with a whisk, then make a well in the center of your dry ingredients.   Pour the wet ingredients into the center and then use a rubber spatula or wooden spoon to slowly incorporate the dry into the wet.  Do not overmix.  Remember that some small streaks of flour will work themselves out as you bring the dough together.  Pull the dough together into a ball, and then flatten it out a bit.   Toss it onto an oil-sprayed piece of plastic wrap, wrap it up, and put it in the refrigerator.   Chilling the dough does a couple of things.   1) The butter will firm up and chill again--necessary for flakiness.  2) Any gluten developed will relax some.  This prevents dough from shrinking and/or becoming too tough.  It will need to chill at least 30 min., though overnight is even better (but who can really wait that long for a biscuit?).  Once the dough is chilled, roll it out and cut out your biscuits.  Two pieces of advice:  1) Make sure your biscuit cutter is well floured.  2) Don't twist the cutter as your cut out the biscuits.   Press straight down, pull straight up, then pick the biscuit up and put it on the baking sheet.  If you want some extra insurance, you can actually chill the biscuits again once they're cut; I don't usually bother.

Now, some recipes call for an egg wash on the top of the biscuits.  This can provide a little color, a little flavor, and a sheen.  If you want the sheen without the color, just use egg whites.  If you want a little extra color, add a bit of milk which will contribute to Maillard browning.  If you want the browning without the egg flavor, then just use milk or cream.   Also, over-washing a biscuit is a quick way to over-crustiness (new word?).

Also, how you place the biscuits to bake is important.  You'll get a little extra vertical lift if you place them side by side, since they'll push against each others' sides creating rise.  These biscuits will have a less crusty exterior, however, since not all sides are exposed to heat.  This is how my grandmother made her biscuits--in a cast iron skillet.   Be extra careful if you try cast iron because it will brown the bottom of the biscuits quickly.   If you place the biscuits separately like cookies on a sheet pan, you'll get a more browned / crunchy exterior.

Regardless of what you choose, you'll bake these at 400 degrees until GBD (golden-brown-delicious).   I think I usually check mine after 12 min. or so.  Kind of like brownies or cookies, you'll want to pull them out when the inside is still a bit soft because there will be carry-over cooking once they're out of the oven.

If you're interested in baking science, I recommend How Baking Works by Paula Figoni.  If you're not, then this incredibly thorough blog was probably pointless to you.

Happy biscuit baking, folks.

-John

It Fig-ures

So, we probably all thought that at some point I'd forget to keep posting to the blog, but props to all of you who thought it would happen sooner rather than later because you were right.  But tonight (Eureka!), I remembered that I had multiple things I needed to post; in fact, Anne and I both do.  While we were away, we took our first culinary excursion together to a little place called Lynchburg, TN, toured the Jack Daniels distillery, and ate at the delicious Miss Bobo's Boarding House.  Sadly, this post isn't about that experience at all; you will have to wait for that one.  Meanwhile, I thought I'd tide you over with a recipe that I recently made for the first time, but will be making again and again.  Near the beginning of school I went on a lovely hike in the Great Smoky Mountains with friends, and, since we were waking up before anyone could possibly find it proper on a Saturday morning, I brought along a few slices of tart to express my gratitude for people putting up with my grumpitude.  This is that recipe, and, dare I say, it received rave reviews from others, too.  I apologize for not having substantial pictures of the process this time, but I only remembered to photograph it when it was done.

Recipe:  Fig Tart with Blue Cornmeal Crust

First, you'll want to make the crust.  Finely chop about 1.5 Tbsp. of rosemary.  I don't recommend using dried rosemary for this; fresh works far better.  Then, combine the rosemary, 1.5 c. AP flour, .5 c. blue cornmeal, 1 Tbsp. sugar, and .25 tsp. salt in a food processor and pulse to combine.  (You can obviously incorporate these together in a mixing bowl with a whisk or spoon, but the food processor makes the subsequent process of cutting in butter much easier; if you have a pastry cutter, you can always go about it in that way, though.)  Add a stick of cold butter (cut into cubes) to the food processor and pulse until the dough resembles coarse crumbs (with approximately chickpea-sized pieces of butter still visible).  Slowly add about 4 Tbsp. of water to the food processor, pulsing gently between the addition of each Tbsp., until the dough will hold its shape when squeezed gently by hand.  This dough will not (and should not) ball up like some other doughs.  If it isn't quite holding together when squeezed, add more water in half Tbsp. increments until it will hold together.  Once the dough has reached the right consistency, press it evenly onto the bottom and sides of a greased tart pan.  Chill the dough for at least thirty minutes to prevent the crust from shrinking during baking.  Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 400°F.  Once the dough is chilled and the oven is preheated, blind bake the crust for 25-30 minutes until the center and edges are browned.  Cool the crust completely by placing the tart pan on a wire rack.

Now it's time to make the filling.  In a large bowl, whisk together 1/3 c. Greek yogurt and 8 oz. softened mascarpone cheese until well combined.  Then whisk in 1/4 c. sugar, 1.5 tsp. lemon (or other citrus) zest, and 1/8 tsp. salt.  Use a small offset spatula to spread this filling evenly into the cooled crust.  Thinly slice fresh figs (about 1.5# of fruit) and arrange the slices on top of the filling.  (You could also quarter the figs and place them upright on the tart for a more rustic, 3-d effect.)  Finally, gently heat 1 Tbsp. honey and 2 Tbsp. jam (any flavor, though fig or apricot would probably work best) until the jam melts (a few minutes over medium heat).  Because I was using a jam with a flavor that I wanted to mask somewhat (strawberry), I used an aged honey with a deep flavor that I had acquired at a local farmer's market; if you can get your hands on aged honey, I highly recommend it in this recipe.  Brush the figs with the glaze to help preserve their flavor and color.  Take a picture and enjoy!

The Fan-figgin'-tastic Final Product

 

While this tart would make an excellent dessert, the rosemary and cornmeal give it a slightly savory flavor that might make it appropriate for breakfast or brunch as well.  I hope you enjoy it as much as I did; please comment below and let me know what you think if you do try it out.  Hopefully, I won't stay away as long before I post again; unfortunately, though, I can't make promises when I'm knee-deep in mid-semester essays.

 

-John

Strhubarby Crumbles

So you've skimmed the post, and you're already thinking to yourself, "But, John, isn't this a crisp?"  Go ahead.  Admit it.  Open that can of worms.  To be honest, one could write a fairly extensive expository piece on the variety of fruit desserts and fruit dessert names that exist.  Then, if you needed another writing sample for your portfolio, you could extend this with an argumentative piece on why certain names classify these desserts better.  If you want to be that person, start here.  If you'd rather pick a name and roll with it, then let's carry on.  I've chosen to dub these "crumbles" because, well, I've read that this is the British name for them (and whether it's Wimbledon, fish and chips, or a Pimm's Cup, I'm on board with all things British) and, truly, that stuff we're going to put on top looks all crumbly.

For me, this was my first attempt at using rhubarb.  I can't remember my mother or grandmother ever having it around, and my grandmother, in particular, cooked pies and canned jams of all varieties.  Nevertheless, strawberries are one of my favorite foods, and I've made quite a few fruit-based desserts, so this recipe didn't seem like a huge risk.

Recipe:  Strawberry Rhubarb Crumbles

First, we'll want to macerate our fruit to create a little syrup that will help flesh out our filling.  Okay, so technically it's not macerating, since that term tends to define softening fruit (or other things) in liquid, but the sugar we'll be sprinkling it with will draw out liquid in the fruit which will create a semi-maceration.  Hull and halve a pint of strawberries and chop 3/8# (6 oz.) of rhubarb into 1/2" slices.  Place the fruit in a saucepan and top with a mixture of 3/8 c. sugar, 1.25 tsp. cinnamon, and an optional pinch of nutmeg (I refrained and added a bit of pure vanilla extract instead - so, real maceration).  Reserve a mixture of 1/8 c. sugar and 1 Tbsp. instant Clearjel.  This should be well-combined.  Instant Clearjel is one of those products I learned about at culinary school that I keep in my pantry for fruit-based desserts.  It is a thickener that doesn't require heat, and it also prevents the filling from getting cloudy (as is the case with flour and other thickeners).  While it's not readily available in grocery stores, you can acquire a little bag from King Arthur Flour for a nominal fee, and, as you use so little at a time, it will probably last you a while.  You will add this to your fruit mixture once the sugar has pulled some of the liquid out.  Let the fruit macerate for about thirty minutes, then add the sugar and Clearjel mixture.  At this point, I turned a burner on medium and cooked down the fruit just a little (a few minutes tops) to get more of the juices going before I put them in the oven.
 

Filling ingredients

Chopped rhubarb

Halved strawberries

Macerating fruits

Sugar and Clearjel combined

While my fruit was macerating, I made the crumbly, streusel topping.  It was only after this was made that I bothered to turn the oven on, as I was fairly sure it didn't need the full thirty minutes to preheat.  In any event, you'll want it set to 375°F.  To make the streusel, I sifted and combined 1/2 c. of all-purpose flour, 1/2 c. of brown sugar, and 1/4 tsp. cinnamon in a bowl.  I then cut in 6 Tbsp. of cold butter using a pastry cutter.  You are welcome to use the rubbing method and do this by hand.  You'll want to end up with a mixture that resembles coarse crumbs.  I like to leave my butter bits slightly larger (more along the size of chickpeas than green peas) as one would for a flaky pie dough.  After the butter is cut in, mix in 2/3 c. of rolled oats.  Please note that this recipe makes far more streusel than you will need for these crumbles.  I did this purposefully because streusel freezes very well in plastic storage bags, and I didn't want to have to make more next time I made a pie.  You're welcome to cut down the recipe as needed or double it to make even more to freeze.

Streusel ingredients

The colder your butter, the better

See!  Crumble, people.  There's nothing crisp about this.

  

Streusel for freezing

Alright, so baking and assembly is as straightforward as the rest of this recipe.  I greased mini-Springform pans with a dab of butter, scooped some filling into them, and topped with the streusel.  For the record, I put too much filling in each one, forgetting that fruits like to bubble up with gusto, and fruit ended up dribbling over the sides of my pans.  I called them rustic and ate them anyway.  Bake these in the oven for 15-20 minutes until the streusel is golden and the filling is bubbling.  You'll probably want to put a piece of foil or a baking sheet on the rack beneath these in case they do decide to bubble over like mine did (hooray for my pizza stone catching the dribblings).  Once finished, let them cool briefly, and dig in!

Mini-Springforms ready to be greased

Oven companions

Finished product, after a rather enticing overflow

I'll be honest, I wish these had a slightly more overt rhubarb flavor, and I may adjust my recipe accordingly next time, but it provides a great, tart contrast to the sweetness of the strawberries.

Personal Favorite: Challah German Toast

 

I've just returned home from a week at the beach, where we have a tradition of enjoying second breakfast.  Inspired by a hobbit aesthetic, second breakfast is served by yours truly a couple times a week.  Some of us are early risers: beach-goers, bike riders, runners, yoga-on-the-beach-ers, etc., and if we've had an early nosh, it's usually something light.  By 10:00, it's time for second breakfast. Sunday morning second breakfast, for something like five or six years now, is challah German (French) toast. (I'll post a sidebar note at a later time about the origins--documented and legendary--of the name French toast.  But for now, suffice it to say that I live with a man who makes his living teaching young people to speak German, so it's German toast. Here's a link or two to get you started on your own if you're curious.)

The toast part is easy--and delicious.  You really can make it with any kind of bread, and if the bread is a little (or a lot) dried out, that's fantastic.  All you really need are eggs and milk.  I've read a bunch of different recipes that also include salt, sugar, and a range of other spices.  I use the following recipe, given to my by a dear friend, for the basic proportions and multiply as needed:

For four slices of bread, whisk together 2 eggs, 1/2 cup milk, 3 good shakes ground cinnamon, 1 good shake ground nutmeg.

And that's it.  Seriously.  All that's left is the toasting.  I love to use a cast iron skillet, sprayed with a little oil or cooking spray, on a medium heat setting, hot enough to sizzle nicely but not brown too quickly.  Soak the bread piece by piece in the egg and milk mixture, and place it cut side down on the hot skillet until it's golden brown, 2-3 mins or less, depending.  Flip and brown the other side.  Serve with a little confectioner's sugar dusted over the slices and a good maple syrup.

So you can do German toast with any old bread you've got.  But.  If you (1) really love the people you're serving, and if you (2) would like for one of those people to take a bite of your German toast and say "This is the first thing I'm going to eat when I get to heaven," and if you (3) want to have a ton of fun making the most delicious, beautiful bread ever, you should learn to make challah.  Julia Child has a great recipe in her book Baking with Julia, written with Dori Greenspan (1996).

Don't forget to check your local library--a great resource for sampling cookbooks before you invest.

It takes me 5 hours, approximately, from start to finish to make challah, but a good portion of that time is the dough working, rising and baking.  I'd say it's about 45 minutes to an hour of actual human work time.  The loaves last a long time and freeze well, especially if you slice them before freezing.  

Here's a photo step-by-step:

Milk, melted butter, sugar,  honey, salt.  If you don't have an instant-read thermometer, get one.

Yeast in a little luke-warm water with a pinch of sugar

It's the eggs!

Oh, how I love my Kitchen Aid mixer.  And yes, I use the dough hook, even though, . . . . well, that's for another post. However, it is entirely possible to make this dough without a mixer other than the ones god gave you (hands).

In fact, I do the last little bit of kneading by hand to incorporate the last 3/4 cup (or so) of flour and just because the dough feels soo soft and warm.  Also I love to use my bread board, a gift from my sister. A good flat, cool surface you can flour well will work just fine.  Use a sheet of waxed paper or two spread on a counter, lightly floured.

Gorgeous, and ready to rise twice: once for about 90 mins or until doubled, then it gets punched down and rises again for about 45 mins.

Buttered bowl. Buttered plastic wrap.

It's alive!

A mezzaluna and a scale are helpful but not essential. I have divided the dough successfully enough without them.

Divide each half into thirds for braiding.

Roll the thirds into long strands.

If you can braid hair, you can braid dough.  Julia recommends starting in the middle and working to one end then turning the bread around to complete the braid. I concur.  This method works. 

What would we do without parchment paper?

Before they go in the oven, they rise again a little, then get an egg wash, a sprinkling of coarse salt and poppy seeds.

Do it!  You will feel so proud of yourself!

Ingredient Spotlight: Vermont Maple Mustard

Sometimes a single ingredient can give an otherwise mediocre dish real depth of flavor.  In an effort to share some of these transforming ingredients with you, I'm kicking off a segment of our blog that I'm dubbing Ingredient Spotlight.  This ingredient might be an unexpected spice, herb, or seasoning; a traditional ingredient used in a surprising way; or, as is the case today, a premade product.

One of my more recent surprising discoveries came at Kroger via their Private Selection brand--Vermont Maple Mustard.

It looks so unassuming.  (And lonely?)

The maple syrup in this mustard gives it a delicious sweetness that is reminiscent of honey mustard, yet it contains practically no fat or sugar.  Truly, I'm not even sure I can go back to normal mustard; everything I've paired it with has been amazing.  Grilled cheese sandwich with a smear of this?  Excellent.  Hot dog with a drizzle of this and some caramelized onions?  Divine.  However, my favorite dish so far has to be the one I'm sharing below.  Please enjoy.

Recipe:  Mustard Glazed Salmon with a Kale and Cabbage Side

Preheat your oven to 400°F.  While it preheats, you're going to start up the side dish.  Here are the ingredients you'll need:

The mustard has friends!

First up, you'll want about 8 ounces of Kale leaves.  Place them in a large sauté pan (with a lid, which you'll be needing later) and drizzle them with a couple of tablespoons of olive oil.

 

I love how vibrant it looks pre-wilting.

I know it looks like a lot of kale, but it cooks down quite a bit.  Trust me.  Now, sauté the leaves on medium heat until wilted.  This should only take a few minutes at which point they'll look like this:

Whoa.  Shrinkage.

While the kale is wilting, you can proceed to chop up the red cabbage.  I've roughly chopped about half a medium head of red cabbage here.

It really is a colorful dish.

Once the kale is wilted, add the cabbage to the pan.  It is at this point that I season the veg with some salt.  Then, you'll add red wine vinegar and water to the pan.  I added about 1/4 cup (4 Tbsp.) of vinegar and probably half a cup of water.  You can add more or less vinegar according to your taste, but you'll need enough liquid in the pan for a proper braise.  Remember, you can always cook off some of the excess liquid at the end (or reduce it into a glaze), so it is generally better to use more liquid than necessary rather than not enough (in order to avoid burnt kale/cabbage).  Once you've added the liquid, cover the pan, reduce the heat to just below medium and let it simmer away for about 15 minutes.

Braising veg

Now that the side dish is under way, it's time to start the salmon.  Here are the ingredients needed:

There aren't that many...

In addition to the mustard and the non-stick spray, that's a 7 oz. salmon fillet.  The one I purchased had some pulverized almonds on it which you're welcome to recreate or not as you please.  Meanwhile, the cooking process for the fish couldn't be easier.  I spray a piece of foil with non-stick cooking spray, I place the salmon on the foil, and I wrap it into a neat little package.  Then, I throw the package on my pizza stone in the middle rack of the now-preheated oven and voilá.  I'm generally terrible at estimating fish cooking times, but the label suggested 15 minutes, so that's how long it stayed in the oven.  (You can't fault me for not following directions at least.)

Salmon packet

At this point, you have a few minutes to clean up if you'd like.  However, you'll be using whatever you used for a cutting board again shortly to dice an apple and, really, it's probably better if you go ahead and have a glass of wine while you wait on the timer to beep.

Ahh...

Just before the braising vegetables have reached the 15 minute mark, peel and dice an apple.  I used a Gala, but any sweet apple will suffice.

I macédoine with the most average of them...

Once the kale and cabbage combo has been braising for about 15 minutes, remove the lid, add the diced apple, add a couple tablespoons of the Vermont Maple Mustard, mix accordingly, and let the dish continue to cook a few minutes as needed to remove any excess liquid from the bottom of the pan.  You should probably also taste a bite at this point to determine if it needs additional seasoning.

Eating with my eyes even as I post this hours later

The dish's star ingredient

By this point, the salmon should be ready to come out of the oven.  When it comes out, I glaze it with a tablespoon of the mustard and toss it back in the oven (go ahead and turn off the heat) with the packet uncovered for a minute or so to heat the mustard through.  Then, it's time to plate up.  I sprinkled the salmon with some fresh lemon verbena because I could.

Mustard smear

The finished dish

Well, that's it for our first ingredient spotlight.  Feel free to try out this recipe, but also let us know if you end up using this mustard in other applications.  I'm always looking for new ideas...

-John