I Googled Mincemeat. Who would have thought I would stumble into some of the most condescending food blogs and forums ever created. A couple of people inquired as to whether or not it is possible to make mincemeat without suet.

Suet is the fat located nearby the kidneys; it’s creamy white, dense and, when heated, melts into a clear liquid resembling vegetable oil. It’s the traditional animal fat used in mincemeat, and more importantly in steamed puddings of the breadcrumb-base variety. It melts slowly and maintains tenderness and moisture in those puddings that are cooked for hours in a water bath. In mincemeat, it’s really more about the flavor the fat contributes.

I read a dozen or more recipes and see nothing that would be seriously compromised in using a vegetable fat . Despite this, quite a few people insisted you could not possibly make mincemeat without it. They said that since it is a holiday dish (and therefore only eaten occasionally) it should be made correctly, cholesterol be damned.

Well, they do make a good point, but I still think they deserve to be called out. In the first place, I see no reason to exclude those who do not eat animal products from enjoying mincemeat pie if they want to. In the second place—and this is where I am going to get condescending—not one of those “purists” used meat in their mincemeat. If they are so damned keen on doing it the old-fashioned way, they might note that mincemeat suggests there is minced meat in the friggin’ pie.

It seems to me (I say that way too much and it really grates on a few people) if you are not purist enough to put meat in mincemeat you really have no place at all in criticizing someone for using another form of fat, particularly given not everyone has a butcher shop nearby where this specific form of fat is most easily obtained.

(I really enjoyed that; I find sarcasm to be as enjoyable as a good meal and it actually has negative calories since I gesture a lot.)

After all the so-called purists, I was happy to discover a recipe on David Lebovitz’s blog. Not only is it straight-forward, he actually encourages us to play around with it, adding cherries, cranberries and other dried fruits, saying as the dish was intended to preserve foods through the winter, they would have used what they had, and that may well have been something we do not automatically think of when we think of mincemeat.

I’m not going to post an actual recipe of what I did, instead I’ll point you to his recipe and tell you what I did to personalize mine. I used dried sweet cherries in addition to the suggested dark and golden raisins and currants, and I included both candied lemon and orange rind since my parents have a Meyer lemon tree and I got ambitious enough to cook rind in sugar.

I held back a bit on the cinnamon and cloves since they always seem more pronounced in this pie than I like (however traditional they may be). I also used treacle in place of some of the brown sugar because I like its hints of caramel and because I like being able to say that I cook with treacle.

Finally, I used coconut oil in place of the suet—it actually resembles it somewhat, being nearly solid and white, with a pronounced fatty smell. I look forward to finding out what all these changes amount to when I make the pie in a couple of weeks.

Not unlike scores of Jewish mothers administering chicken soup to those with colds, Chinese cooks have long known of the healing properties of Hot and Sour Soup. 

Chicken stock is therapeutic, plain and simple.  Add to it mushrooms (a good form of fungus) and lily buds which are good for the circulation, vinegar which is an antiseptic, and white pepper which helps to break up mucous (I was going to say phlegm but that word really bothers some people), and you have an excellent cold remedy.

I got this recipe by way of Gourmet magazine and I’m pretty sure it hasn’t been tampered with too much.  Sometimes I have left out the pork or substituted a mushroom I could not find with one I could, but I don’t think I have messed with the integrity of the dish.

Be sure to use the two vinegars called for as using all rice vinegar makes for a soup not sour enough, and using all wine vinegar does quite the reverse.  I like Lee Kum Kee soy sauce which I think is fairly easy to find in most grocery stores; it has a more subtle flavor than some of the others I have tried (although I will admit when I tried them side by side it was poured over plain rice not in a dish with many other ingredients, so perhaps it’s only straight-up that the difference is obvious).

Here are photos of the mushrooms and lily buds to make shopping for them easier.

Like many Chinese dishes, the prep takes a good half hour or so, but the cooking is done in a matter of minutes.

Hot and Sour Soup

5 oz boneless pork loin, cut into 1/4-inch-thick strips
2 teaspoons soy sauce
4 small Chinese dried black mushrooms
12 small dried tree ear mushrooms
1 1/2 tablespoons cornstarch
12 dried lily buds (some brands call them golden needles)
1/2 cup canned sliced bamboo shoots, drained and rinsed well, cut in 1/8-inch strips
2 tablespoons red-wine vinegar
2 tablespoons unseasoned rice vinegar
1 tablespoon light soy sauce
1 1/2 teaspoons sugar
1 teaspoon kosher salt
2 tablespoons peanut or corn oil
4 cups reduced-sodium chicken broth
4 oz firm tofu, rinsed and drained, cut into 1/4-inch-thick strips
1 or 2 large eggs (a matter of how many egg threads you like in the soup)
2 teaspoons Asian sesame oil
1 1/2 teaspoons white pepper, fresh ground if possible
Fresh whole cilantro leaves

Toss pork with 2 teaspoons soy sauce in a bowl until well coated; set aside.

Soak the lily buds in warm water to cover for 20 minutes. Drain and trim off the tough tip; slice in half crosswise and shred the buds into 2 or 3 pieces.

Soak both kinds of mushrooms in boiling water to cover for 30 minutes. Cut out and discard stems from black mushrooms; thinly slice caps. Trim any hard pieces from the tree ears, and cut into bite-sized pieces if necessary.

Stir together 1/4 cup mushroom-soaking liquid (discard the remaining) with cornstarch in a small bowl and set aside.

Stir together vinegars, tablespoon soy sauce, sugar, and salt in another small bowl.

Heat a wok or large, deep skillet over medium heat until you can feel the heat coming off it. Add the oil, give it a quick swirl and add the pork. Stir fry it for a minute, just until it takes on some color, then add black mushrooms, tree ears, lily buds, and bamboo shoots and stir-fry 1 minute. Add broth and bring to a boil, then add tofu. Return to a boil and add vinegar mixture. Stir cornstarch mixture, then add to broth and return to a boil, stirring constantly. Reduce heat to moderate and simmer 1 minute.

Beat the eggs, adding a bit of the sesame oil. Add eggs to soup in a thin stream, stirring slowly in one direction. Add the white pepper and remaining sesame oil. Toss some cilantro leaves over the finished soup and serve.

Serves 3 as a main course, or 8 as a first course

The title pretty much says it all. 

The ingredient are few, the instructions simple, and while it is a dish that is tasty to a point that far exceeds the sum of its parts, it’s not a recipe I want to wax poetic about for paragraphs. 

I made is yesterday while chatting with Martha online (it’s that kind of recipe), and told her “It tastes like spring, but still it is comforting when the weather is chillier.”   I’m going to stick with that.

It’s based on the Greek soup (often served at Easter) Avgolemono, but I just sort of winged it.  You can make it with or without the chicken; if you are serving it as a first course and would like it to be a bit more polished, purée the soup once the rice is tender, then return it to the pot to finish it.  If you do that, it can be made ahead to this point then reheated, but be warned that the non-puréed version is less successful made ahead as the rice absorbs most of the broth (leftovers are almost like a soft risotto).

It will serve 4 or 5 as a main course and at least 8 for a starter.

Lemon and Rice Soup

1 large white or yellow onion, finely chopped
2 tablespoons butter or extra virgin olive oil
Salt
1 1/4 cups starchy rice, such as Arborio or Calrose
2 bay leaves
2 quarts chicken broth (dilute by a third with water if using canned broth to keep the salt in check)
The grated rind of 1 lemon
4 eggs yolks
The juice of 3 lemons, or to taste
2 chicken breasts (1 whole breast), cooked, cooled and shredded
Freshly ground pepper

Heat the butter or oil in a large saucepan or soup pot, add the onions and a sprinkling of salt; cook, covered, over low heat until they become translucent and tender. Add the rice and bay leaves and cook, stirring, until the rice takes on a chalky look.

Add the broth, a pinch or two of salt, and bring to a simmer. Lower the heat so it gently bubbles and cook, covered, until the rice is just tender, 15 minutes or so. Raise the heat to be sure the soup is very hot then remove from the burner.

Combine the egg yolks and lemon juice in a bowl and whisk to combine; whisk in a bit of the soup to gently heat the yolks. Slowly stir the egg mixture into the soup; it will thicken slightly and become a creamy white. Stir in the chicken if you are using it, cover the pan and allow to stand for five minutes to heat it through.  Taste for salt and lemon juice and adjust as needed.

Serve right away with some pepper at the table.

You might want to know about that roll with the green bits stuck to it . . .

Garlic &  Parsley Rolls

Take some good dinner rolls—they should soft rolls but the kind that have some texture to them, and place in a baking dish.  Heat the oven to 400 degrees.  Combine (for 4 to 6 rolls, let’s say) 1 tablespoon each olive oil and water with a tablespoon of chopped parsley and 1 clove of garlic that has been chopped fine.  

Brush the mixture over the rolls and bake for 10 minutes, until the rolls are hot and have taken on a golden color on top.  Serve straight away with soup of most any kind.   Or serve alone and brag about a meal of just starch at work the next day.

As summer came to a close I wanted to get in at least one more party; I decided to serve hot dogs.  While many summer gatherings (frequently those which are last-minute) feature hot dogs on the menu, I had in mind a party that was not at all last minute, either in conception or execution.  

I have been reading lately on regional American food in an effort to learn more about our culinary history.  I want to learn about the foods specific to each region but I am also interested in foods eaten all over the country but in very different ways.  Hot dogs, often thought of as merely a virtuous use for the lesser parts of the animal, are eaten across this country and are not—as far as I am concerned—something to be scorned.

Most people know the classic New York hot dog—an all-beef sausage served with brown mustard, kraut, and maybe tomato and onion relish, and the Chicago dog packed with peppers, tomatoes, relish, pickles and much more, as well as the chili cheese dog which began in the Mid-West but is all-American by now, but there are dozens of other options.

In Maine they are served with mayonnaise and onion relish, in Seattle, cream cheese is often spread on the bun, and in parts of Massachusetts ketchup, which many hot dog aficionados scorn, may well be the rule not the exception.   Places like Pink’s in southern California create a variety of dogs inspired by various regions, but they’ve gone beyond that and made fantastical creations that are Dagwoodian in spirit, which really is an American approach.

Since I was having a mid-size party of about twenty, I decided to make all the necessary condiments to cover four or five styles of hot dogs.  If you ever host a really big crowd, I think it would be a hell of a bash to go much further;  try to recruit some of the guests to make the appropriate fixings and you can collectively to cover a good portion of the country.

The kitchen counter, laid out for our lunch, was covered by bowls of Kosher pickles spears, sports peppers, wedges of tomatoes, celery salt, Coney Island-style chili sauce, sauerkraut, onion relish, Chicago-style sweet relish,  chopped onions, grated cheddar cheese, coleslaw, and lots of mustard.  I added a bottle of ketchup when it was requested.

With these ingredients we could enjoy hot dogs as they are in New York, Chicago, Georgia (and various other parts of the south), the Mid-West, as well as California.  In truth, there isn’t an “official” Calfornia-style hotdog, but tomatoes, pickles, relish, onions (usually cut in thin wedges) and grated sharp cheddar cheese are the options I most often remember from my childhood visits to Kasper’s, Aggie’s and Casper’s.  The hot dogs themselves are either all-beef or a pork and beef combination, and always have a natural casing which results in a “snap” when you bite into them.

I completed my menu with coleslaw (I think I was only person to actually put some on a hot dog and I can assure you the others missed the boat on that one), my current-favorite potato salad, a platter of tomatoes, and onion rings (there was a small incident with the gas burner I was using outdoors and some singed armhair, but I’m pretty sure my cousin is over it).

Cole Slaw

This is inspired by the cole slaw at Emil Villa’s, the barbecue restaurant of my childhood.  Most everyone I know went for the ribs, but being a starch and vegetable junky, I generally ordered coleslaw and fries, which were followed by pie.  It’s almost a balanced meal.  I’ve kept this coleslaw pretty simple so that is suits a variety of meals; feel free to punch it up if you like.

1 small head of cabbage (about 2 pounds), shredded
2 carrots, scrubbed and finely grated
1/2 mayonnaise
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 tablespoon cider vinegar
4 tablespoons horseradish (preferably not cream-style)
Salt and pepper, to taste

Combine the dressing ingredients and toss with the cabbage and carrots in a large bowl. Chill for 1 hour prior to serving and taste for seasoning, adding additional salt, pepper and horseradish as needed.

Serves 4 to 6

My Favorite Potato Salad (as of right this minute)

2 pounds potatoes, a yellow-or red-skinned variety, peeled, or just well-scrubbed if the skins are very thin
1 medium onion, chopped
Brine from Kosher-style dill pickles, or water
1/3 cup vegetable oil
The juice of 1 lemon
1 tablespoon mustard, brown, Dijon-style, or yellow, in that order of preference
Salt and pepper, to taste
3/4 cup mayonnaise, more or less, to taste
3 tablespoons chopped, fresh parsley
3 tablespoons chopped, fresh chives
1 large Kosher pickle, chopped, optional
8 slices bacon, cooked until fairly crisp and cut into 1/2-inch pieces

Peel or scrub the potatoes and cut into 1-inch chunks. Place in a saucepan with cold water to cover and place over high heat. Bring to a simmer, lower heat to maintain, and cook until just tender. If you poke a chunk with a knife, it should just slide off, taste it to be sure.

While the potatoes are cooking, chop the onion and place in a glass bowl and cover with the pickle brine or just some water, microwave for 2 minutes and let stand. This takes the raw bite out of the onions. When the potatoes are done, drain them potatoes well and place on a baking sheet to cool for 10 minutes.

Drain the onions well and add to the potatoes. Mix together the oil, lemon juice, mustard, and salt and pepper, to taste, in the onion bowl and pour over the potatoes. Toss to coat and allow to cool completely. Transfer to a bowl, add all the remaiming ingredients except the bacon and stir to coat everything well. Chill for an hour or two before serving, stirring in the bacon and checking for salt and pepper just before you do.

Serves 6 to 8

Coney Island-Style Chili Sauce

I found several recipes for this sauce, all very similar in style; mine is a compromise between two of them.

Vegetable oil
1 pound ground beef
1 medium onion, finely chopped
1 tablespoon chili powder (or more to taste)
1/2 teaspoon celery seed
1 6-ounce can tomato paste
1 cup hot water
1 tablespoon yellow or brown mustard
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
1 tablespoon cider or white vinegar
Salt and pepper, to taste

Heat oil in a medium skillet or saucepan and add the beef; saute, breaking it up into small pieces, until well browned. Add the onions and saute until wilted. Add the chili powder, and celery seed and cook for 1 minute; stir in the tomato paste, mixing it into the meat as well as you can. Add the water and stir to smooth out the mixture; add the mustard, Worcestershire sauce, vinegar and salt.

Bring to a low simmer and cook for 40 minutes or so. The meat should be very tender and the sauce should be thickened a bit. Taste for seasoning, and adjust to your taste. I made this ahead and when I reheated it, ended up adding an additional tablespoon of chili powder (ancho) since I thought it needed a bit more smokiness to balance the sweet.

Serves 6 to 8 as a hotdog topping

NYC-Style Tomato & Onion Relish

Not one damn person ate this friggin’ topping so I am not including the recipe.  So there.

Sauerkraut

I posted a recipe for kraut (as well as Kosher-style dill pickles and bread-and-butter pickles) here, so use the search feature to find them since it’s late and I should be in bed not linking to previous posts.  If you want store-bought, look for Ba Tampte or Bubbies, both of whom make all of the above.

Hot Dog Buns

I made them myself— if you are smart, you will not do the same.   Find a bakery that makes them and order them in advance, asking them to sprinkle on some poppy seeds (so your Chicago-style hot dog will be legit).

Chicago-Style Neon Green Relish

Uh, oops.  I made my own, and forgot to take notes.  It was really good, but I have no idea what I did.  I know that I added more celery seed at the end, but beyond that . . .  Go online and search for Rolf’s or Puckered Pickle Co., as they both make the relish you will need.

Sports Peppers

For the Chicago dog, you will also need sports peppers.  They are sold in jars like a pickled jalapeno, but are a different variety that is shorter and not quite as hot. 

I regret to say I forgot to take a picture of my Chicago hotdog.  It was good, but the peppers are kind of a nuisance since you are not supposed to cut them in half, and that means when you take a bite they explode brine all over you, and you can’t chew the stem, but otherwise a top-notch dog.

My regional variations:

Chicago-Style—  beef hot dog on poppy seed bun, relish, tomato wedges, sports peppers, sour pickles spears, sweet relish, chopped white onion, and a sprinkling of celery salt.  A really tasty combination overall.

New York-Style— Kosher hot dog with brown mustard, kraut, and (supposedly) tomato and onion relish, plenty of sour pickles on the side.  A classic.

Mid-West Coney Island-Style— beef or pork hot dog, topped with chili sauce, shredder cheddar cheese (I used Cracker Barrel) and chopped onion.  I always hated these as a kid, but I’d  never had them made with a fresh chili sauce.  It will never be my go-to, but it is good when the chili is.

Southern-Style— hot dog (of choice, as it varies) topped with coleslaw or coleslaw and chili, served with bread-and-butter pickles on the side.  I cannot tell you how convinced I was that chili and coleslaw on a hot dog could not be a good thing, but it turned out to be my favorite of the day.  I now want to go to Varsity Drive-In in Georgia and try theirs.

It’s a bit late for this menu now with Halloween around the corner, but maybe someone can tuck it away for next year.  Enjoy.

This morning around 7:30 my aunt died after a long and difficult battle with Parkinson’s Disease. I’m sad for her children and her grandchildren and for friends she has had for decades, but I am glad for her. The last year had been very difficult for her and to be free of the burden of her broken body must be a joy, as is the chance to join the daughter she lost many years ago.

When I was told her death would be soon my first thoughts turned to food. Some people hold a death watch for the ailing, some call relatives and friends, some make funeral arrangement: I cook. I thought about the dishes I prepared for funerals in the past, and of things the people attending this one might like. Once I got thinking, the memories followed.

You couldn’t really call the memories happy, but they are treasured. I have been to a good two dozen funerals in my forty years, and I still have some memory of all of them. Some of those memories have been sweetened by time, others still sting.

The first funeral I can remember is the one I wasn’t allowed to attend. I was deemed too young to say goodbye to Aunt Eva and spent the evening with my grandparents watching “Ben Hur” or “Spartacus” or something like that. All I remember is that it lasted a hell of a lot longer than the bowl of Cheetos Grandma gave me and there were chariots involved. (The fact that she made us watch Sha Na Na will someday be a post unto itself.)

I remember the funerals of my grandfather’s aunt, and her sister, my great-grandmother. I can smell the incense and old stone in a big church in Oakland, and I can hear their cousin Alice Marie (who was about seventy at the time) telling me a joke my dad wished she hadn’t (Punchline: “If the foo shits, wear it.”).

I wept privately when my grandmother died, hoping she might find the happiness in death that eluded her in life, and when Grandpa Joe joined her a few years later, I stood with my sister and cousin at his coffin after everyone had left the chapel, none of us wanting to leave him in that room, all alone.

I scanned those memories in search of Pyrex casseroles and Tupperware bowls and the lovingly-made offerings within them. I saw Moore Casserole, a recipe that appeared in Sunset magazine but is believed by some relatives (to this day) to be a family recipe. I saw Marguerite’s potato salad and Peggy’s soda bread, a Descoware pot filled with meatballs, a platter of turkey, perfectly-carved by Mike . . .

. . . Pound cakes, Jell-O salads, lasagne, rhubarb pie, and, of course, multiple pots of tea. I have never once bemoaned or dreaded cooking for a funeral— I always thought it a privilege. With that in mind, I started a thread in the forums at Serious Eats on the subject of funeral food.

Others shared their memories of funerals, and of the foods that comforted and sustained their families and friends. It’s such a common thing to do—bring food to someone who is sick, hurt, or grieving. All cultures, all religions, all people do this in one way or another, and I liked feeling that connection to strangers.

There were a few comments left by people who were shocked by my casually speaking of potato salad, chicken casseroles and sweet tea while my aunt was lying in bed on a morphine drip. My immediate response was to feel defensive, as if I had to justify my behavior, but I stopped myself.

Firstly, we all deal with life and death differently and we all assume that ours is the correct way, and secondly, for me to defend myself I would have to say things having nothing at all to do with the topic of food.

To be blunt, for the first 25 years (more or less) of my life, our relationship might have been called cordial, at best. She was a woman who had clearly defined how a person should live, behave, and speak. Anyone who did not conform to that was, in her eyes, flawed. Even as a child I did not behave “right.”

She was very well-versed in back-handed compliments, and deserves an honorable mention for her work in the area of passive-aggressive, as well. One of the only people—other than my mother—who could insult me in such a brilliantly-clever way that I ended up apologizing for doing nothing at all.

I was resigned to that relationship, but two events changed things dramatically: the deaths of her daughter, Susan, and her mother, within a year and a half of one another. Shortly before Grandma died she expressed her fear that the family would fall apart, especially now that Susan, who excelled at planning family gatherings and holidays, was gone. I told her I would see to it that it never happened.

And I did. I worked hard to keep family traditions and recipes alive, and encouraged the forming of new ones. And it changed the way my aunt saw me; she had long before cast the role of who I was in our family—I was the pedantic, profane, irreverent smart-ass (various family members share these qualities, but I’m sort of a package deal, having all of them).

But I was recast in the role of an ally. The first thanksgiving after Grandma died, I made the dressing (stuffing, if you prefer) and when she tasted it, she turned to me and said “You have a job for life.” It was the nicest compliment I had ever received from her and left me speechless, which—in case you haven’t been counting words—is highly unusual.

I’m not going to romanticize things and say we became best friends after that, but we grew to appreciate one another in ways we hadn’t before. She appreciated the efforts I put into our gatherings and I appreciated how much work it had all been for her when she was doing most of it.

Later when she developed Parkinson’s Disease, she was grateful for the times I sent meals to her or cut her food at a family dinner; and I grew to appreciate that a woman I never really saw as being funny had maintained not only strength but a great deal of humor as her disease slowly progressed. It became a relationship I did not merely have to resign myself to, but one that I could embrace.

One of the negative (but I am quite sure, earnest) comments left in response to my “funeral food” chat suggested that rather than waste my time looking through cookbooks and talking with strangers online I should be with my aunt every moment I could until her death took her.

Had I sat by her bed, held her hand and said soothing things to this woman—things neither of us had ever done for the other before now, I think she would have been confused by my behavior. That is not who we were, and I don’t think that is what she expected of me.

She expects me to remember which granddaughter likes broccoli but hates mushrooms, who doesn’t like whipped cream frosting, which one has spent years picking caraway seeds out of slices of rye bread, and that her husband (for reasons she could not fathom) likes his fish cooked beyond the point of well-done.

And she expects me to remember that the pink and green glass plates we use on Christmas Eve are in the cabinet next to the stove, and that one of those plates should be filled with smoked oysters whether anyone eats them or not.

The recipe for Grandma’s dressing that I will be making for as long as I am asked to.

Part of a tea set purchased for my aunt by my father in Japan over fifty years ago; she gave it to me a few Christmases ago.

The tea set was always used on Thanksgiving; as a kid I marveled that when you held the cups up to the light, this is what you saw in the bottom.

My aunt circa 1950-something.

I’d like finish this with a some of the comments left in response to the discussion I began on “funeral food.”

“I always went with chicken salad/tuna salad/ham salad/egg salad with lots of fresh bread and condiments. No one wants a fancy meal after a funeral, just comfort food.  You could also prepare one of your aunt’s favourite dishes, maybe a dessert or something.”

“The truth is, funeral food is very important. This is going to sound crazy but I consider myself honored to have been told on more than one occasion that my food was the first thing a bereaved person was enticed to eat after the loved one’s death occurred.

A baked dish like ziti and chicken cutlet parmagiana fills two needs – it’s tasty and it SMELLS good. I really believe the olfactory aspect of funeral food has all to do with the return of the bereaved person’s appetite. Comfort food is certainly the order of the day.”

“When my father passed away, the house was filled with casseroles, breads, cookies, spiral-cut hams, donuts, alcohol and even a bucket of chicken. The kids ate the chicken. We ate what we could and donated the excess to a homeless shelter. In fact, we made several trips over there and they were enormously grateful. It made us feel good too, and I know my Dad would have liked it.”

“I’m a great believer, for when I bring food to the home after a death, in avoiding things that need refrigeration. I also like things that are not pre-portioned, so small servings for kids are easy. It’s old-fashioned, but pound cakes work well, no gooey frostings to wipe off, for instance. Homemade bread is excellent; someone will always bring a ham or cold cuts for sandwiches.

I grew up in a small town and automatically think, “What can I bring?” but living in a big city, people are surprised sometimes when I show up at the door.”

“Perhaps you could also honor her memory by preparing a dish or recipe that she was known for?’

“Here in the south we usually show up with casseroles and desserts. King Ranch Chicken is a favorite.”

“What I remember most about the food after my grandmother’s funeral was the cheesy baked onion dip. My cousin and I sat around that damn dip with a bag of potato chips and ate almost the whole thing. It was definitely the heavy, indulgent, comfort food that I think we were both looking for.”

“For my mother-in-law’s funeral, we served turkey over biscuits, lefse, and platters of fresh fruit. She had been part of a circle of women at our church who made lefse for many years. For the funeral lunch her friends got together and made lefse. The family gathered together in my kitchen the night before the service and helped pull the meat off the roasted turkeys for the creamed turkey. My mother-in-law was known for her hospitality and cooking, so we felt our menu was a fitting tribute. Lefse is usually only served at holiday meals, so it was special to serve the Norwegian treat at her funeral.”

“Down here in South Carolina we treat a funeral like a family reunion and make the same covered dishes we would take to a reunion. Fried chicken, squash casserole, country ham biscuits, pole beans and Irish potatoes, speckled butter beans, deviled eggs, creamed corn, collard greens, potato salad, candied yams, cornbread, congealed salad, sliced melon, Eagle Brand lemon pie, and pound cake to name a few.”

“The last funeral I went to was for a professor of mine from grad school. She was an “interesting” woman who spent her last year hiking through Jordan with her daughter (with cancer! I don’t know how she did it).

The family decided that the food at the funeral should represent her so they had all of her favorites. There were sushi rolls, Italian pastries, favorite baked goods from various family members, random olives and cheeses. It was the weirdest spread I’ve ever seen, but it fit so perfectly.”

“after- funeral get togethers have always intrigued me — it’s like that saying “life is for the living” …. a way to remember the lost loved one, but also to partake together in the most basic and fundamental human action.
it’s like smacking death in the face ….”

“During times of grief or loss, I always appreciate the family members who can think clearly, pay attention to practical details, and keep things rolling on time. And hospitality is a hugely practical concern, and is in no way morbid or inappropriate to plan ahead for it.

The families with relatives who will take on this role are truly blessed.”

Last month I ate what was arguably the best S’more ever.  It was made by Charles’ Chocolates, using freshly made marshmallows and graham crackers and high-quality dark chocolate.  With the last bite, I knew I would have to make them myself.

It turned out to be much easier than I had expected, finding Chuck Siegel’s recipes for both the crackers and marshmallows online;  I found many other recipes for them as well.  I decided to make two recipes for each and pick my favorite.

For the crackers I stuck with Chuck Siegel.  The other recipe actually produced something closer to a boxed graham cracker, but I found the dough hard to work with and very prone to over-browning in a matter of seconds.  Siegel’s recipe is a bit richer than a traditional graham, but the flavor is right on and the dough is forgiving.

When it came to the marshmallows I didn’t stick with Siegel—his were nicely flavored and had a good texture, but a recipe I used years ago—and rediscovered at Smitten Kitchen—was just that much better.  I’m going to post both recipes and you can choose which you prefer.

The chocolate is up to you and those you are serving.  Some people like the traditional, sweeter milk chocolate, while others like the more intense flavor of dark.  I tried it both ways and interestingly, while I do not like milk chocolate for eating out-of-hand I did like it on the S’more, but the dark chocolate was very good as well.

Before we get to the recipes I should give my brief story behind the Graham cracker.  They are made with a specific type of whole wheat flour—Graham flour.  To make this flour, the germ, bran and endosperm are separated, ground, then recombined.

Each part is ground to a different texture so the end result is different than standard whole wheat flour where all parts are ground at once.  The flour was created by Dr. Sylvester Graham who promoted a diet rich in vegetables and grains, and abstaining from things that he considered damaging to both body and soul, such as sex.

It’s funny to think that over a century ago a man created graham crackers in an effort to curb libido, and today we eat them as part of a S’more,  licking melted marshmallow and chocolate from our fingers with total abandon and complete satisfaction.  Sorry, Dr. Graham, but thanks so someone ingenious your crackers have become sexy eating.

To make the actual S’mores, you will need (per s’more) 2 crackers, 1 marshmallow, and about 1/2 ounce chocolate.  You can increase the chocolate but it becomes too messy to even be manageable.

Graham Crackers

If you cannot find graham flour, any whole wheat flour will work fine in this recipe.

 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 generous tablespoon honey
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour (unbleached or not)
1 cup graham flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

Combine the butter, sugars and honey in a mixer or food processor and mix until soft and fluffy. Combine flours with the salt, baking soda and cinnamon and add to the butter mixture; mixing until well combined. The dough can be used now or wrapped well in plastic and chilled (or even frozen) until you are ready to form the crackers.

If you chilled the dough, allow it to sit at room temperature for an hour or so to make it easier to work with. Divide it in half. Roll one half on a well-floured surface to a thickness of 1/8- to 1/4-inch. If it is thinner, the crackers will be very crisp, while if it’s thicker, it will be crisp at the edge and chewier towards the center. The dough tends to crack while rolling, but if the surface is well floured, you can easily push it back together.

I cut my crackers out using a 2-inch cutter which gave me a traditional half-cracker look; you can make them larger as seen in the first photo, or any size you might prefer. Transfer the crackers with a spatula to baking sheets covered with foil or parchment and place in the refrigerator while you roll the remaining dough.

After rolling the second half of the dough, gather the scraps from both, re-roll and cut again. Heat the oven to 350 degrees.

Using a skewer or toothpick, poke holes in the crackers and use the back of a knife to make the score in the center if you like (be sure you just sort of make a scratch in the dough or it’ll break too easily). Bake the crackers until they are golden brown, a bit crackly on top, and they feel dry and a bit resistant if you gently press on them, about 10 minutes.

Cool on racks.

This will make approximately 2 dozen crackers depending on size.

Note: If you like, you can sprinkle the crackers lightly before baking with sugar combined with a pinch of cinnamon.

Marshmallow #1

This is the recipe I liked best, but it’s more work.  Place the un-cracked eggs in a bowl, cover with boiling water and let stand 15 seconds before you crack them to make sure anything nasty on the outside doesn’t contaminate the inside.

Vegetable oil
About 1 cup confectioners’ sugar
3 1/2 envelopes (2 tablespoons plus 2 1/2 teaspoons) unflavored gelatin
1/2 cup cold water
2 cups granulated sugar
1/2 cup light corn syrup
1/2 cup hot water
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 large egg whites
1 teaspoon vanilla

Oil bottom and sides of a 13- by 9- by 2-inch baking pan (line it with foil or parchment if it’s a glass pan) and dust bottom and sides with some confectioners’ sugar.

In bowl of a standing electric mixer or in a large bowl sprinkle gelatin over cold water and let stand to soften.

In a 3-quart heavy saucepan cook granulated sugar, corn syrup, hot water, and salt over low heat, stirring with a wooden spoon, until sugar is dissolved. Increase heat to moderate and boil mixture, without stirring, until a candy or digital thermometer registers 240°F., about 12 minutes. Remove pan from heat and pour sugar mixture over gelatin mixture, stirring until gelatin is dissolved.

With standing or a hand-held electric mixer beat mixture on high speed until white, thick, and nearly tripled in volume, about 6 minutes if using standing mixer or about 10 minutes if using hand-held mixer.  Do not try to clean the sides of the bowl as you would when you mix a batter, you’ll end up with a sticky mess.

In a large bowl with cleaned beaters beat whites  until they just hold stiff peaks.  Beat whites and vanilla into sugar mixture until just combined. Pour mixture into baking pan and sift 1/4 cup confectioners’ sugar evenly over top. Chill marshmallow, uncovered, until firm, at least 3 hours, and up to 1 day.

Run a thin knife around edges of pan and invert pan onto a large cutting board. Lifting up 1 corner of inverted pan, with fingers loosen marshmallow and let drop onto cutting board. With a large knife trim edges of marshmallow and cut marshmallow, with a knife, pizza cutter or cookie cutter into roughly 1 1/2-inch cubes. Sift remaining confectioners’ sugar into a large bowl and add marshmallows in batches, tossing to evenly coat. Marshmallows keep in an airtight container at cool room temperature 1 week.

Makes about 6 dozen marshmallows

Marshmallow #2

Made as directed this will yield 9 enormous marshmallows.  I cut them into squares of about 1 1/2-inches so  they were in scale to my smaller graham crackers, and ended up with about 3 dozen.

3 envelopes unflavored gelatin, such as Knox
1/2 cup cold water
2 cups granulated sugar
2/3 cup corn syrup
1/4 cup water
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
Powdered sugar for dredging

In the bowl of an electric mixer, sprinkle gelatin over 1/2 cup cold water. Let rest for 10 minutes.
Combine sugar, corn syrup, and 1/4 cup water in a small saucepan. Bring to a rolling boil and let cook for 1 minute. Pour boiling syrup into gelatin and mix at high speed. Add the salt and beat for 12 minutes. Add vanilla and incorporate into mixture.

Scrape into a 9-by-9-inch pan lined with oiled plastic wrap and spread evenly. (Note: Lightly oil hands and spatula or bowl scraper.) After pouring marshmallow mixture into the pan, take another piece of plastic wrap and press mixture into the pan.

Let mixture sit for a few hours. Remove from pan, dredge the marshmallow slab with powdered sugar, and cut into nine 3-inch-square pieces with kitchen scissors or a very sharp knife. Dredge each piece of marshmallow in powdered sugar.

You’re going to love this.  Canning is hip. 

Scary, isn’t it?  In the past two months I’ve read three articles that suggest canning your own food is becoming the newest and hippest trend.  Honestly, it momentarily made me want never to can anything again.

Well, I was canning long before this current trend began, and I will continue to long after it is replaced by the next big thing.

selection of pickles

In truth, it could be said that what I do doesn’t really qualify as canning anyway;  most of what I make I do not process in a water bath.  I make things that go in the refrigerator and are meant to be used within a few months.   I do not have a canning pot (which is not essential, but does makes things easier) and I don’t see me getting one anytime soon since every square inch of cupboard space is already occupied.

For the most part, I stick to smallish batches of pickled things I can keep in the fridge, and a few jams that are sealed with parrafin. 

My recent canning has included kosher pickles, bread-and-butter pickles, sauerkraut, and sweet relish.  The relish and bread-and-butter pickles are easy and economical to make, and taste exactly like your childhood memories of them dictate they should.

The sour pickles and kraut are trickier.  They are not cooked and no vinegar is used.  They are simply placed in salt-water brine and allowed to ferment.  The salt converts the sugar and starches to lactic acid, preserving good bacteria and killing the bad.  It’s probably the most natural and ancient form of preservation; it’s also out of your hands.

Maybe the weather is too warm and the lactic acid can’t do it’s thing fast enough and you end up with moldy pickles.  Maybe too much of the acid forms and your cabbage or cucumbers become soft.  It’s taken me a few years to get here, but it’s now one of my favorite things to do in the kitchen for the very reason that I cannot call the shots. 

You just have to let go of expectations and be pleasantly surprised when you get the perfect batch.

Another way to preserve by lacto-fermentation is to begin with whey.  It speeds up the process so you have pickles in days rather than weeks, something that increases the odds of success during warmer weather.  And whey is easily obtainable. 

Yogurt-before

Yogurt-after

Simply place whole or low-fat yogurt in a strainer (I use a drip coffee filter as seen in the photos) and allow it to drain in the refrigerator overnight.  The next day you will have whey, as well as yogurt that has become as thick as cream cheese; it makes for a decadent breakfast with some fruit or granola. If you use whey (1 tablespoon for each quart jar), you can reduce the salt used by about half.  The whey will keep for about two weeks in the fridge and can be frozen for months.

The whey

If you are interested in the variety of foods that can be preserved in by lacto-fermentation as well as the health benefits of eating these foods, there are dozens of resources online, but you should start here, with the man who (literally) wrote the book on it.

Half-sours, kosher dills, bread & butter pickles (in two forms) and sweet relish

Kosher Pickles

I try to find cucumbers that are not more than 4 inches long; I have more luck with them staying crisp and they are more easily placed in jars.  This makes about 1 quart

1 pound (approximately) pickling cucumbers, rinsed, the blossom-end trimmed (that little bit of wilted blossom can contribute to mushy pickles)
2 tablespoons kosher salt, or other coarse non-iodized salt (reduced by half if using whey)
1 tablespoon whey
2 or 3 cloves garlic, peeled and coarsely chopped
1/2 teaspoon pickling spice (bay leaf, allspice berry, celery seeds, coriander seeds)
1/2 teaspoon peppercorns
1 fresh or dried dill flower blossom, or a couple sprigs fresh or dried dill (a tablespoon of dill seed or weed can be used as well)
A couple of leaves from a grapevine, oak or cherry tree, or horseradish plant, if available (the tannins help to keep the food crisp)

Crisping the cucumbers

Wash a quart jar (and the lid) and fill with boiling water to sterilize it.  

Place the cucumbers in a bowl of ice water and let stand an hour to chill and allow them to crisp up.  Put the salt, garlic, and spices in the jar and add the cucumbers, either whole or cut in halves or slices, according to preference.   Add the whey if you are using it, and cold water, not quite to cover.  

Cover and shake to dissolve the salt.  Uncover and top with the dill and the leaves, if you are using them, and enough water to cover.  Replace the lid and keep in a cool spot such as a closet or cupboard.  I place the jar on a tray since you sometimes get a few drips as the fermentation takes places.

The pickles can take a few days, or even a couple of weeks.  The temperature of the room, the size of the cucumbers, and whether or not you used whey all have a part in it.  I check mine most every day, looking for signs of mold and to see if the pickles are beginning to change colors.  If mold forms, open the jar, skim it off, and continue to cure them.  

Once they are cured to your liking refrigerate them.  I often let some cure for less than a week and some for a couple so that I have both “half-sours” and “fully-cooked.”

That hopeful moment when curing begins

Bread-and-Butter Pickles

The recipe I use can be found here.  If you like them in sandwiches, cut some of the cucumbers in vertical slices as seen in the photo above.

Sauerkraut

I have yet to get the perfect batch of this.  Some have been too salty and some have not been as crisp as my favorite store-bought brand (Bubbies), but I keep trying.  This makes about 1 quart.

1 head cabbage, about 1 1/2 pounds
1 tablespoon salt (reduce to 2 teaspoons if using whey)
1 tablespoon whey

Wash a quart jar (and the lid) and fill with boiling water to sterilize it.

Wash and slice the cabbage in half, remove core and shred.  Place in a bowl with the salt and whey; toss to coat.  Allow it to stand a couple of hours, occasionally pressing firmly on it with your hands to encourage the salt to draw out the water.  Depending on how fresh the cabbage is this can take hours or even a day.

When a lot of moisture has exuded, pack the cabbage into the jar, pressing down on it to pack it in well.   Add cold water if the cabbage is not entirely covered.  Place a jar lid (or something flat you can fit in the jar) over the cabbage to keep it under the liquid.  Cover and let stand in a cool place.

Check the cabbage every couple of days, opening the jar and tasting to see if it is developing some flavor.  Once it has cured to the point that you are satisfied with the taste, refrigerate it. 

I have been wanting to make falafel for a while.  There are a few restaurants nearby that offer it, so I don’t have to make them myself, but at a dollar a piece I thought I could make them cheaper.  I did not do the math (I don’t bother math, it doesn’t bother me), but the garbanzos cost less than a dollar, the parsley and spices (based on the quantity used) were about the same, and the amount of oil I used was two to three dollars worth; it was definitely cheaper. 

The recipe I used is that of Mark Bittman, and the majority of the garnishes I added to my falafel sandwich were inspired by one Dorie Greenspan ate in Paris and glowingly spoke about on her blog.   If you have no interest in making your own falafel—I can’t say I blame you—you could just buy some and still make a great-big, sloppy sandwich like I did.

I think this would be great for a party, with bowls all set up for people to create their own sandwich. If you get bored with summer barbecuing, this might fit the bill.  And you could always grill a leg of lamb and offer that, too, for a whole other sandwich.

In the recipe, Bittman states that it is essential not to add water to the mixture when it is ground unless absolutely necessary, and even then only a tablespoon or less. This ain’t no joke— too much liquid and the falafel will likely not hold together, and even if they do, they will still be raw at the center when the outside is fully browned. 

I used far less cumin than he suggests, but other than that I followed the recipe to the letter.

Falafel Sandwich

The Falafel
First, keep the amount of water you use when grinding the beans to an absolute minimum. More water makes grinding easier, but it also virtually guarantees that the batter will fall apart when it hits the hot oil. If this happens, bind the remaining mixture by stirring in a little flour.

The second essential step is to get the oil hot enough: 350 degrees or a little higher. If you don’t have a thermometer, just wait until the oil shimmers and then add a pinch of the batter. When it sizzles immediately, sinks about halfway to the bottom, then rises to the top, the oil is ready. If it sinks and stays down, the oil is too cold; if it doesn’t sink at all, the oil is too hot.

1 3/4 cup dried chickpeas
2 cloves garlic, lightly crushed
1 small onion, quartered
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1 tablespoon ground cumin
Scant teaspoon cayenne, or to taste
1 cup chopped parsley or cilantro leaves
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 tablespoon lemon juice
Neutral oil, like grapeseed or corn, for frying

Put the beans in a large bowl and cover with water by 3 or 4 inches; they will triple in volume. Soak for 24 hours, adding water if needed to keep beans submerged.

Drain beans well (reserve soaking water) and transfer to a food processor. Add remaining ingredients except oil; pulse until minced but not pureed, scraping sides of bowl down; add soaking water if necessary to allow machine to do its work, but no more than 1 or 2 tablespoons. Keep pulsing until mixture comes together. Taste, adding salt, pepper, cayenne or lemon juice to taste.

Put the oil in a large, deep saucepan to a depth of at least 2 inches; more is better. The narrower the saucepan the less oil you need, but the more oil you use the more patties you can cook at a time. Turn heat to medium-high and heat oil to about 350 degrees (a pinch of batter will sizzle immediately).

Scoop heaping tablespoons of batter and shape into balls or small patties. Fry in batches, without crowding, until nicely browned, turning as necessary; total cooking time will be less than 5 minutes. Serve hot or at room temperature.

Makes about two dozen falafel, serving six to eight well

Tahini Sauce
1 cup yogurt
2 to 4 tablespoons Tahini (sesame seed paste), or to taste
Salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste
Chopped, fresh parsley, mint or cilantro, if desired

Combine the ingredients and taste for seasoning, adding more tahini if you think it needs it. Chill in a covered container for up to a week.

Makes 1 1/4 cups.

Hummus
4 garlic cloves, peeled
1/2 teaspoon of salt
2 15-oz cans of garbanzo beans (chickpeas), drained and rinsed
1/4 cup, or more, tahini
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/4 cup olive oil
Water, as needed

Toss the garlic and salt in a food processor and process until chopped. Add the garbanzo beans, tahini, lemon juice and oil; process until fairly smooth, stopping and scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed, adding a bit of water if necessary. Taste and add more salt, tahini, or lemon juice as desired.

Will keep in a covered container in the refrigerator for several days (though the garlic can get stronger tasting after a few).

Makes about 3 cups

Oil-Soaked Eggplant
1 medium eggplant, cut in 1-inch chunks
Salt
Olive oil

Toss the eggplant with a light sprinkling of salt and place in a colander; place a heavy plate on top and let stand an hour or two. Pat the eggplant dry.

Heat a couple tablespoons olive oil in a skillet over medium heat and add eggplant. Toss to coat it with the oil and cook, stirring until the eggplant is almost tender and has taken on some color in places. Cool.

Place the eggplant in a container and add a few generous glugs of olive oil, cover and toss to coat it all. Let stand at room temperature for a couple of hours before using. You can also keep it in the refrigerator for several days before using; warm gently before serving.

Makes about 2 cups eggplant

Pickled Red Onions
1 cup red wine vinegar
1/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon peppercorns
Big pinch of salt
2 small red onions, sliced into rings

Heat the vinegar, sugar, pepper and salt in a saucepan until boiling; add onions and stir to combine. Remove from heat and let stand until cool. Transfer to a covered container and keep chilled up to two weeks.

Makes about 1 1/2 cups

To Serve
Pitas, or other pocket bread
Shredded cabbage
Sliced cucumbers
Asian or Middle Eastern chile sauce
Cilantro leaves

Wrap the pitas in a barely-damp towel, then foil, and place in a 275 degree oven for about ten minutes to warm them.  Spoon some hummus into the pita, top with falafel, and start adding things to your heart’s content.

Eat with a nice, thick cloth napkin nearby.

I read something the other day that suggested not using clever, metaphorical, or vague blog titles.  According to the writer, doing so cuts down on the number of people who will find your blog when entering something specific on a search engine. 

Had I followed that advice, I would have titled this post “A Quick Plum and Cherry Tart,” but I stand by my choice to ignore the Internet expert since said tart is an excellent reason to make your own pastry, and to keep some in the freezer at all times.

Around noon today I got a dinner invitation and the tart was out of the oven by two.  I used four plums, twelve cherries, a couple of almond cookies, and a marginal amount of sugar, in addition to the previously-mentioned pastry.   If you don’t have the cookies, figure out what else you have in your kitchen that crumbles—Matzo crackers, a slice of leftover cake,  stale bread . . .

The recipe was improvised so who the hell am I to tell you not to do the same.  Play, have fun, eat pie.

A Quick Plum and Cherry Tart

Pastry for a single crust pie
4 red or black plums, ripe but still firm enough to slice
A dozen cherries
4 amaretti cookies, crumbled, or 1/4 cup or so crumbs of some kind
Sugar—2 tablespoons will keep it tart, 3 will be sweetly-tart, and 4 will be sweet enough for those who like dessert to be sweet

Roll the pastry on a floured board into a roughly 12-inch circle; trim the edge to make it neat, more or less. Transfer to a baking sheet and fold over an inch of the dough, crimping it to form an edge to hold in the fruits’ juices.

Place the pastry in the refrigerator and heat oven to 400 degrees.

Cut the cherries in half and remove pits; set the cherries aside. Cut the plum into three pieces, making one cut on each side of the pit (feel around with your knife and you’ll find it); cut into 3/8-inch (or whatever) slices; set aside.

Remove the crust from the refrigerator and crumble the cookies over it. Arrange the plum slices over the crust and tuck the cherry halves in between them, here and there. Sprinkle 2 to 4 tablespoons sugar over the fruit. Place in the oven and bake for 15 minutes.  Lower heat to 375 and bake another 20 minutes or until the fruit is tender and the crust golden brown.  If the juices are not quite thick enough, you can switch the oven to the broil setting for about a minute and they’ll get all thick and bubbly and wonderful.

Cool to warm and serve, as is, or with a dollop of whipped cream or whole milk yogurt.

Serves 8

Note: To thaw frozen pastry in a hurry, I have had success microwaving it on the defrost setting for two to three minutes, microwaving it for a minute, allowing it to rest five minutes, then microwaving again (it should still be cool at the center).

Today someone on Serious Eats was trying to locate the recipe for a chocolate mousse cake made by Julia Child.  I was pretty sure I knew the cake in question and was trying to remember where I saw it.  After a cup of tea, which makes me temporarily smarter, I realized it was in the book Julia Child and Company, a book I happen to own.

This was one of my favorite of Julia’s series.  She had her snazzy blue Kitchen Aid mixer, she cooked a wider variety of foods than on the French Chef series, and some of menus included cocktails which seemed very sophisticated to a pre-teen who spent too much time watching 1930s films. 

(To the person who asked for the recipe—yes, all my recipes start with long digressions, and sometimes even tangents.  Welcome to Cat’s kitchen.)

I honestly don’t know if I have ever made the cake that follows, but another from the series, The Los Gatos Gâteau, I made several times.  It featured layers of crisp almond meringue filled with apricot purée and frosted in buttercream.  The name came from Los Gatos, California where (at that time anyway) the best apricots were grown. 

Maine may have blueberries, and Washington apples, but no one can compete with my state in the apricot department.  If you ever see Blenheim apricots, grab those babies up.  Our Ollalieberries kick ass, too.  I think that’s enough of me bragging about my fruit;  you came for chocolate and chocolate you shall get.

Julia Child’s Chocolate Mousse Cake

Serves 8 to 10

In the book, Julia does not specify the cake pan size by diameter, rather by capacity (10 cups). A 9-inch round pan that is 3-inches deep, or a 10-inch round pan that is at least 2 inches deep should be about right. And since this is baked in a water bath, you will need a roasting pan large enough to hold the cake pan.

Butter or vegetable shortening, and flour, for the pan
1 tablespoon instant coffee powder
4 tablespoons hot water
4 tablespoons dark rum
14 ounces semisweet or bittersweet chocolate, broken into pieces
2 ounces unsweetened chocolate, broken into pieces
6 large eggs
1/2 cup sugar
1 cup heavy cream
1 tablespoon vanilla extract (you can buy really good vanilla at T J Maxx and other discount stores at a great price)
Confectioners sugar, whipped cream, ganache, or anything else you care to use to embellish the cake

Heat oven to 350 degrees, position rack in lower third of oven. Place a roasting pan in the oven and fill halfway with hot water. Put on a kettle, as you’ll be needing some boiling water.

Grease the cake pan, line the bottom with waxed paper or parchment, grease and flour it and set aside. Chill a bowl to use for whipping the cream (or fill it with some ice cubes).

Bring 2 inches of water to boil in a medium saucepan. Place over the pan a bowl; add the coffee and water, swirling to dissolve it. Add the rum and chocolate, remove from the heat, cover, and allow the chocolate to melt.

Break the eggs into a mixing bowl; place this over a large bowl that has very hot water in it. Whisk the sugar into the eggs and mix until the eggs are slightly warm to your finger. Start beating with an electric mixer until the mixture has tripled in volume (at least), and forms a fat ribbon when you let some drip from the beater. Set aside.

Place the cream in the chilled bowl and whip until it is quite thick, doubled in volume, and holds its shape softly. It should retain a smooth look, rather than form peaks.  Whisk in the vanilla.

Give the chocolate mixture a whisk to be sure it is smooth and silky; scrape it into the eggs and mix it rapidly with a rubber spatula. It needn’t be uniformly mixed, just part way there. Gently, fold in the cream, mixing so that all is well combined, but being careful not to deflate the mixture.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan, it should be about two-thirds full. Place in the roasting pan, adding more hot water as needed to bring it halfway up the sides of the cake pan. Bake for about 1 hour—the cake will have risen just a bit above the edge of the pan and a tester inserted in the middle should come out clean.

Turn off the oven, leave the door partially open, and allow the cake to cool in the water bath for 30 minutes.  Remove from water bath and cool another 30 minutes. Un-mold the cake, cool to tepid,  and serve with whipped cream, ganache, or just a dusting of powdered sugar.

Julia liked serving the cake the day it was made, if possible.  Otherwise, she would cool it completely (still in the pan), cover and refrigerate for up to two days.  When you want to serve it, place the cake in a 200 degree oven for 20 minutes to barely warm it, and proceed as directed above. 

By the way, this cake being somewhat delicate, it should be unmolded onto the plate you wish to serve it from, as once there it is not going to be moved again without cracking it.