Scottish Christmas Dinner: Beef & Mushroom Pie

The picture really doesn't do this traditional main dish from a Scottish Christmas dinner justice.  It's impossible to capture the incredibly moist and flavorful filling laced with a hint of thyme or the light and flaky crust in a single image.  You'll just have to take my word for it. But I have to warn you.  If you make this just this once, you will have the boys in your family asking that you make it year round.   It really is that good. 

My idea of meat pies growing up were those little frozen pot-pies that were only ever purchased and used when my mom was having a baby or my dad was out of town on a business trip and my mom didn't want to cook.  We had them so rarely that they felt like a treat, even though they were filled with strangely chewy vegetables (from being cooked, frozen, and reheated) and a flat, almost cardboard-like crust.  Marie Callender's raised the bar a bit with better fillings and a flakier crust, but still... nothing ever beats homemade.

Scottish Christmas Dinner: Scotch Eggs

All children seem to be picky eaters in their early years.  Flavors, textures, and colors freak out small children in turns causing temper tantrums (from both children and parents), headaches, and tons of partially eaten meals finally being discarded after day three of the standoff.  (Child 1, Parents 0)  Our middle child has been perhaps our most picky eater.  I could give you some other examples, but frankly, it really doesn't get much more picky than refusing to drink anything but milk for the first six years of your life.  (Because water is disgusting!)  After a dehydration scare on a family hike, I got officially upset enough to dig my heels in and insist that he try new things in spite of the family doctor continually assuring me that there was nothing wrong--in fact, I should be thrilled!--with him only drinking milk.

Scottish Christmas Dinner Menu & Dundee Cake

One of the challenges of having teenagers and young adults in our home now is the constant fracturing and splintering of our family time.  Sports and ballet, homework and after-school activities, church, scouts, jobs, and friends take up a great deal of time that used to be almost exclusively family time.  It's hard to find time when all of us can be together as a family.

I used to think that Christmas vacation was one of those times.  It really should be.  The children are out of school.  The professor husband is out of school.  It is even one of the few times during the year that sports coaches (mostly) respect family time, and the calendar settles down to what should be day after day of doing only what one pleases to do.  A few years ago, though, our local congregation decided to have an extra Christmas activity-- a live nativity, singing, and refreshments--to be held in our neighborhood just a few days before Christmas.  It was a lovely idea, even though we had already had one Christmas party at the church a few weeks earlier.  And then I discovered the little asterisk--the youth had been asked to handle all of the preparations, which actually meant that the mothers of the youth would be handling the preparation.  (Because apparently simply going to the ladies' auxiliary directly to spread out the work amongst all of the women in the congregation was not possible.  Sigh.)  We had four children in the youth program, and each was expected to bring two dozen cookies.  My scoutmaster husband was in charge of a massive amount of cocoa, and three of our teens were in the nativity itself.  I spent an entire day prepping for the evening activity, and found myself too tired, cross, and mildly resentful to even go and enjoy the program.  I sent my family out the door with eight dozen cookies, two giant jugs of cocoa, and three costumes layered underneath with thermals and vowed that the next year would be different.

The next year was different.  We warned our children ahead of time that the two weeks of Christmas break were a stay-cation, therefore we would not be participating in any scheduled activities of any sort.  This worked well, up to a point.  That point was where our children decided that they should be playing with friends who were also home for the holidays during any period longer than an hour when we didn't have something specifically scheduled at home or out with the family.  Saying "no" to friends on some days only resulted in pitched battles.  I longed to be one of those families with relatives close enough or budgets big enough to go somewhere at Christmas time so that for just a couple of weeks a year it would just be... family.

So last year, facing the same dilemma, I decided to schedule two weeks worth of festivities, reasoning that if there was something scheduled every single day, our kids would spend time together--cheerfully, even.  As part of those festivities, I decided to have a special dinner every single evening.  We have ancestors from thirteen different countries (okay... close ancestors.  If you go back further, it's even more, but it's hard to get as excited about your 15th great-grandfather from Russia as it is your grandfather from Syria).  I planned out a feast for each of those countries celebrating with their unique traditions and hoped that it would keep my children around the table as well as giving them a taste of their heritage.  I rounded up recipes from family, friends, and research.  I planned menus, prepared as much as I could ahead of time, and then plowed forward. 

Irish Soda Bread -- It Doesn't Get Easier Than This

Do you want easy?  My Tuesdays with Dorie group decided to make the (appropriately timed) Irish Soda Bread this week--and frankly, for bread, it doesn't get much easier than this recipe.  Seriously--I've been making a different, but also easy--recipe for years.  This is even easier.  Four ingredients.  One bowl.  A bit of stirring and half a minute of kneading/shaping.  Wow.  Busy moms take note--this might just become the new favorite after-school snack.

Irish Scones

Irish soda bread is the usual accompaniment to a traditional St. Patrick's Day Feast.  We've served it for years.  Last year, though, I ran across a recipe for Irish scones, and I was hooked.  Irish scones are rather like buttermilk biscuits--only with eggs inside the batter and a bit of sugar on top.  They are best served warm, but they are also great cold the next day, so I always make a double batch.  They retain their moisture much better than biscuits, and the bit of sugar on top is a nice touch, especially for a holiday dinner.

Kale with Bacon

I started making kale with bacon years ago as substitute for the "cabbage" part of the traditional  corned beef & cabbage that was served when I was a child on St. Patrick's Day.  Seriously-- who wants a side of wilted cabbage when you can have kale?  Isn't that a lovely shade of green?  Frankly, though, the picture doesn't do it justice--perfectly cooked kale is almost vibrant.  Kale wilts a bit when cooked, but it still stays fairly firm--firm enough that you can top it with the bacon.  It also tastes terrific and is absolutely loaded with nutrients.   Kale with bacon is the perfect side dish for Irish spiced beef on St. Patrick's Day. I found the recipe in an Irish cookbook at our local library when I was a newlywed and have tweaked it several times since until you see what you have before you.

Irish Spiced Beef

I love celebrating holidays.  They are a deviation from the ordinary--a chance to do things that you never get to do other days of the year.  There are decorations, stories, music, and of course... food.  I grew up hating St. Patrick's Day when I was a kid, however, because what was served at my home was very salty meat with mushy cabbage.  (Sorry, Mom, but it's true.)  My mother was a fabulous cook, but that combination of food was terrible.  So when I got old enough to be on my own, I sought out recipes for other Irish favorites that could replace corned beef and cabbage, yet still celebrate the spirit of my Irish ancestors.

Especially For Kids -- Peanut Butter Balls

Teaching children to cook is not my forte.  There's just something about hot ovens and kitchen knives that makes me cringe just the teeniest bit inside at the thought of letting small children into the kitchen to do... well, anything.  My mother was an amazing teacher, though she's humble enough that I doubt that she would say so.  She had us in the kitchen from the time that we were very young, perched on top of chairs, draped in over-sized aprons, doing age-appropriate bits of cooking like grating cheese or opening cans of kidney beans.  By the time I was nine, I had a small repertoire of meals that I could make all by myself such as homemade mac & cheese, Mexican casserole, and French Toast.  (Along with the requisite and much larger repertoire of baked goods.  I made a mean peanut butter cookie back in the day.)   I look back on that in wonder because I've been such a foot-dragger about teaching my own children to cook.  Part of that is as I said above--fear of accidents, and part of that is just a time issue.  Most days it seems hard enough to get food on the table at all without adding another 20 minutes or so to the prep time because you have a child in the kitchen learning to chop onions without cutting his or her fingers off.

Tex-Mex Hand Pies -- A Pi Day Main Dish

One of the fun challenges of Pi Day every year is trying to come up with something new to serve for dinner.  It has to be pie, of course, but what kind?  Pizza pie, pot pie, quiche?  We have had a lot of pot pies over the years--and since I frequently make a shepherd's pie in honor of St. Patrick's Day, I was looking for something else  to fix for dinner.  This year, I ran across this recipe at the Homesick Texan's food blog. 

Grasshopper Pie -- A Pi Day & St. Patrick's Day Classic

When I was six, my family moved to Idaho for a year while my father taught economics at Idaho State.   When you are a child and missing your old home and friends, it seems like your new town has very little to offer.  One thing, however, that Pocatello had, was an abundance of grasshoppers.  My older sister and I would capture them by the quart jar full and bring them to my mother.  Then we'd tease her that she should  make grasshopper pie with them. 

Making grasshopper pie on Pi Day almost seems like a cheat after rolling out pastry for pumpkin, pecan, apple, or berry pies.  Paired with a chocolate crust (which I almost always just purchase at the store), the mint filling is spring-like.  It's the perfect compliment to a St. Patrick's Day feast, too.  The best part--you can make it ahead of time, pop it in the freezer, and forget about it until the day of your event.

Beware the Pi of March -- Perfect Pumpkin & My Mom's Fabulously Flaky Crust

All right... I'll grant you that pumpkin pie in the middle of March is pretty unconventional.  But hear me out.

I love pumpkin pie.  I really do.  When I was growing up, I looked forward to Thanksgiving for one and only one reason:  pumpkin pie.  I kid you not.  My mother's crust was to die for and the filling was perfect--not the blonde, barely pumpkiny fillings of some pies, nor the dark, overly spicy fillings of others.  It was right in between.  But then Thanksgiving was over.  No more pumpkin pie for another year.  This was not to be borne. 

Beware the Pi of March -- Blackberry Mini Pies

Happy Pi Day!  (3/14 = 3.14)  With a math professor in the family, we take Pi Day seriously here.  There has been a lot of baking & filling of pie shells here for the last few days, and I thought I'd pass along a few of our successes.

First up is the Mini Blackberry Pie you see before you with the holes cut to look like pi.  Heh.  Didn't see that one coming, did ya?

Made in tartlet pans, these mini pies are perfect for one, or could be shared by two.  They go together fairly quickly for what they are.  Unlike apple pies, berry pies don't need any peeling or chopping for the filling--just toss the berries in a little sugar, etc., and you are good to go.  I made them as one idea to give away to our children's math teachers.  Though I ended up doing something else altogether, the fact that they can stand to be out of the refrigerator for a while made them a good candidate.  If Pi day is being celebrated in your town, consider this recipe for the pies you hand to your children to bring to school. 

Indian Luncheon: Vij's Chicken Curry and Red Lentil Curry

It's been a week since I last posted, and with good reason.  Last Wednesday, we said goodbye to our oldest son, who was leaving for a two year adventure out in the wilds of San Jose.  Hopefully he will come back wiser, and not just older.  The rest of the week was spent cleaning up after the chaos that we called packing.  Meals were basic--leftovers were involved on two different days.  Some of the leftovers were from our son's last home cooked meal, which I will post about later.  Today, though, I thought I'd share with you a couple of recipes from the world-famous Indian restaurant, Vij's, up in Vancouver, B.C.

Tuesdays With Dorie: Rugelach

 I've always been more of a bar cookie sort of girl.  Brownies are by far my favorite--and not just because they are chocolate.  Five ingredients, one bowl, and forty minutes later, I have a treat ready for kids coming in through the door or a room full of hungry adults working out the details of one or another community activity.  So, it was with great trepidation that I looked over the directions for today's recipe that my Tuesdays with Dorie group was baking and blogging about. 

The March 6th recipe that the Tuesdays with Dorie group decided to work on was rugelach.  Rugelach is a traditional Jewish dessert that is usually made rolled up like a croissant, though it can also be made by rolling up the dough jelly roll style and slicing it before baking, which was how this recipe was made.  Filled with an assortment of dried fruits and nuts, the pastries come out soft, moist, and extremely flavorful.  They are certainly a unique and delicious dessert.  I am glad that I had a chance to try making them this week.  The recipe can be found on p. 325 of Baking with Julia or at Jessica's website My Baking Heart.  Jessica's pictures are wonderful, but she left out a few extra bits of the recipe, so I will post them down below.  

Texas Sheet Cake

Growing up in a family of eight, the first thing that I learned to do in the kitchen was help with the dishes.  We didn't have a dishwasher until I was in my late teens (my father always claimed that we had six dishwashers), so I learned at a very young age how to tackle mounds of pots and pans, plates and cups, glass and silverware.

The next thing that I learned how to do was bake.  Baking has always been a joy to me since then.  Until... now.  Well, three and a half years ago.  What changed?  Our elevation.  We moved from sea level to nearly 5000 feet above, and as anyone knows who has half-glanced at the back of a box of cake mix, there are special directions for high altitude baking.  I've lived at a high altitude before, but never quite so high.  At about 2500 feet, an extra tablespoon or two of flour is about all that it takes to right the ship and keep your cakes and quick breads from falling in.  At 5000 feet, it gets a little more complicated. 

Lemon Tart

One of my sisters in law came up to our house with the cousins last weekend to see our oldest son off.  He's going to be gone for a couple of years, and everyone is trying to say their goodbyes.  Now, when the family gets together, good food ensues.  It's just the way that it works.  We made homemade pizzas, which is a fun activity for little cousins as well as being tasty and much healthier than the fast food version.  And of course, no gathering is complete without dessert.

My sister in law is not a big fan of chocolate, so I made a lemon tart.  This is the perfect lemon tart.  The crust has lemon zest in the dough.  The filling is luscious and tangy.  The crust to filling ratio is perfect.  It's like a lemon bar dressed up to look like a fancy pie.  It's perfect for company.

Recipes for a Middle Eastern Feast: Baklava

No feast would be complete without dessert, and for many Middle Eastern feasts, this means baklava.  It is probably the most well-known of the many dessert options, and the ingredients are inexpensive and widely available.  One of the appeals for me of serving baklava on special occasions is that it is such a unique dessert.  Obviously, it is not a cake, pie, or cookie.  It also does not fall into the category of "frozen dessert."  It is a filled pastry, but it is a completely different creature from a creme puff or chocolate-filled puff pastry.  It takes less than an hour of hands-on time to make at home, and like many Middle Eastern dishes, it can be made the day before the event.  You can also purchase baklava in many bakeries and grocery stores.

For years, that's exactly what I did.  I purchased my baklava along with my pitas and hummus to go along with the other dishes that I was making.  Phyllo dough scared me, and the dessert looked complicated and time consuming to make.  Moving to a small town a few years ago forced me to change my opinion.  The only baklava here is in the fancy pastry section of the local bakery and costs as much for two tiny pieces as a whole tray of it in any other place that we lived.  So I rolled up my sleeves, looked up half a dozen recipes, and went to work figuring it out.

Recipes for a Middle Eastern Feast: Chicken with Olives and Preserved Lemons

One of the things I love most about Middle Eastern cooking is that so much of the food is made with healthy, fresh ingredients.  With the obvious exception of pitas, desserts, and anything made with phyllo dough, the grains are usually whole.  In Middle Eastern dishes, the vegetables are plentiful, the herbs are fresh, and the flavors are exotic combinations of spices that by and large, you already have in your pantry.   (And if you don't, most of them are easy to obtain at a regular grocery store.)

The other thing that I love about Middle Eastern cooking is that most of the dishes can (or should) be made or at least mostly prepared ahead of time.  This makes it ideal company food.  A few hours of food preparation time the afternoon or evening before the event can yield a menu that requires only about half an hour of hands-on cooking the day that the company is coming, leaving your hands free to wipe off counters, set the table, and fix your hair before guests are due to arrive.  (Bedhead is one of those iffy things.  It might make it look like you are such a fabulous cook that you had time to hang out in bed all day before tossing this feast together, but it could also make you look harassed and incompetent.  So, go fix that hair.)

Recipes for a Middle Eastern Feast: Beef Phyllo Rolls (Burak bi Lahm)

Family reunions are a feature of American life. When families are spread out all over our nation (a five day drive coast to coast), it prevents regular family time except for that glorious day (or week) during the summer or during the holidays when everyone gathers to catch up, show off the grand kids, and eat copious amounts of food.  Even if most of your family lives within a two hour drive of Grandma's house, family get-togethers are a treat--a time for remembering and sharing and passing down things that shouldn't be forgotten.  It's a time for heritage.

Food is part of that heritage.  The Mattson family reunions of my youth seemed to feature typical American fare dotted with the occasional traditional dish from the Swedish/Welsh heritage we all shared.  Hoagies, tuna salad, and egg salad sandwiches would be piled on plates and set down on one end of a picnic table along with the bucket of KFC chicken that someone who had just flown in that morning had picked up on the way over to the park.  There were jello salads and green salads, fruit salads and pasta salads.  And then there were the obligatory bowls of something that I have dubbed the Mattson Potato Salad--the magical concoction that no one had a recipe for but somehow could be produced identically by at least four of the aunties and adult cousins besides my mother.  It wasn't a real reunion without it. 

Similarly, it wasn't a real Solomon family reunion without a big bowl of Tabbouleh sitting next to the pile of hamburger patties that one of the uncles had been grilling. 

Easy Italian Bread

As with so many other areas of life, America has a rich tradition when it comes to baking.  I think that this is because American culture draws upon the traditions of so many other cultures.  Here in America, we make everything from fluffy white Italian and French style breads to hearty rye breads from Germany and Eastern Europe.  We make bagels, bread sticks, and buns.  We do dumplings, tortillas, and pitas.  We make sweet breads and savory breads from all over the world.  The best breads, however, come from the home kitchen.

I learned to make bread as a teenager.  I wish that could romanticize that it was because of some deep human instinct or some other such nonsense.  The truth of the matter, though, was that I decided to learn to make bread because I had this empty spot on a goal sheet for a church youth program and "learn to make bread" seemed like the least obnoxious of the various options.  It was also the least expensive by far of any of the cooking options, which pleased my mother.  You can make a whole lot of different kinds of bread with just a handful of basic pantry ingredients.  Sure, you can make expensive bread--every category of cooking has its outliers.  The German bread that I worked on last year had several cups of seeds per batch.  That set us back a bit.  But as I said before, there are hundreds of recipes for bread that call on the baker to use just a few basic, inexpensive ingredients.