A Toast of Chocolate to Uncle Jim -- German Chocolate Cheesecake

It had been much longer than I cared to admit since I’d visited my Uncle Jim who’ll be 95 years old this year. He’s my uncle by marriage; he was married to my father’s only sister, my Aunt Mary, whose sensational cooking inspired me to want to be a good cook.

I was grateful when one of my sisters suggested a day trip to his nursing home in Pittsburgh, punctuated by lunch (Church Brew Works) and shopping (Trader Joe’s and McGinnis Sisters.) Grateful and just a little apprehensive.

Like many people, I suppose, I was afraid that he wouldn’t be as I’d remembered him. Of course he wouldn’t!!! Another niece who lives close by and who has been his primary family contact for the last ten years had prepared us for the fact that he was frail and confined to a wheelchair and losing his memory more but was still usually in good spirits.

All my fears were allayed when we found him in a TV room and after we finally approached him and I said, “Hey, Uncle Jim! It’s Rosie!” and gave him a kiss.

I could see in his pale eyes that he did indeed recognize me and he grinned with his typical little chuckle and said “Rosie, kiddo! How are you?” Anyone in their fifties loves to hear themselves called “kiddo.”

We caught him on a pretty good day. We could see that he wanted to be the same gracious man he’d always been. He apologized that he couldn’t stand up to greet his company. He wanted to participate in lively conversation, just as he always had. Well-read and opinionated, with a wry sense of humor, he loved conversation and was a great raconteur himself. But he was always interested in what you thought and what you had to say, too.

He tried to keep up with conversation, he tried to remember all the people and events in the pictures we shared, but became a little frustrated and would drift off and shake his head with a smile that so reminded me of what my mother did as she aged, too.

As I recounted to him how my husband still talks about the lovely evening the three of us once had when he took us out to dinner at his club and dawdled over too many Manhattans and ate the best turtle soup, his eyes sparkled with a little memory and he started breaking apart the Cadbury chocolate bar my sister had given him. He needed a little help and gestured that each of us should have a piece.  He then raised his piece in a toast gesture and we followed his lead and raised our pieces of chocolate,too,  a toast to the memories of family and to the connections that should never fade.

I’m sure that Uncle Jim would have liked this cake. Or at least he would have said so. He was the beneficiary of my aunt’s very best baking and cooking. And he always seemed to swoon over what she made. Her biggest fan. She probably wouldn’t have made this cake because it starts with a mix and she loved baking from scratch. But I didn’t get her baking genes, so this jazzed up cake mix that my sister-in-law Liz first made is something I can do. (This will be my birthday cake, won't it, Liz?)

For you, Uncle Jim.


German Chocolate Cheesecake
This really isn’t a cheesecake; it’s a cake with cheese, but delightfully chocolatey and rich all the same!
from Taste of Home, submitted by Kathy Johnson, Lake City, SD

1 package German chocolate cake mix
2 8-ounce packages of cream cheese
1 ½ cups sugar
4 eggs, lightly beaten
For frosting:
1 cup sugar
1 cup evaporated (not sweetened condensed) milk
½ cup butter, cubed
3 egg yolks, beaten
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
½ cup flaked coconut
1 cup chopped pecans

Prepare cake batter according to package directions. Set aside. In small mixing bowl, beat cream cheese and sugar until smooth. Add eggs; beat at low speed until just combined.

Pour half of cake batter into a greased 9 x 13 x 2 pan. Gently pour cream cheese mixture over and smooth with spatula. Then gently spoon remaining cake batter on top and spread to the edge of the pan.

Bake at 325 degrees Fahrenheit for 70 to75 minutes, until toothpick inserted near center comes out clean. Cool on rack for at least one hour before frosting.
For Frosting:
Combine sugar, milk, butter and egg yolks in heavy saucepan. Cook and stir over medium heat until thickened and a thermometer reads 160 degrees. Stir in vanilla, coconut and pecans. Cool until frosting is spreadable.

Makes 16 servings

Chicken Tetrazzini -- Scaled Down

If the title of this post has led you to believe that this is a low calorie version of said tetrazzini, I apologize. It’s scaled down in size only, so that Mr. Rosemary and I wouldn’t completely gorge ourselves on one of our all-time favorite meals. As it was, I still had to freeze a couple portions, which will probably end up as the base for a frittata one night next week, as we’re scrambling to get ready for the annual walleye fishing trip to Ontario. (Or maybe that’s something I’ll look forward to after seven nights of cooking fish!)

The first time I made tetrazzini was years ago after one Thanksgiving, to use leftover turkey. Since then, I’ve looked forward to post-Thanksgiving meals more than the real deal, just for this casserole.  And although it is a great way to use leftover turkey, I find I like it better with chicken.  I have that around much more often.  This time, though, I used rotisserie chicken from the supermarket.  I like to mix both white and dark meat, too. I probably make this just a couple times a year, it’s that rich. But for some reason, it beckoned the other evening. Perfect to go with the roasted asparagus.

(I know it doesn’t look like asparagus in the picture. Your eyes are not deceiving you. That is indeed broccoli. The asparagus was completely consumed, the whole pound, by two people. That’s what roasting does to asparagus. Forces one to substitute another vegetable for blog picture taking the day after.)

Giada makes a great chicken tetrazzini dish, but this one is different from hers – she uses peas, no Swiss cheese, adds onions, cooks the mushrooms -- and for the life of me, I can’t recall exactly where I first got this recipe. I copied it onto an index card, gave no credit to its originator and keep it in a little box, where I keep all the old stand-bys. It’s actually one of like sixteen places where I store recipes. Organization and I have a love-hate relationship.

And I’ve tweaked the original recipe many times over, as my little notes and scratch outs and other hieroglyphics on the well-used card will attest, so maybe it’s morphed into my own after all. Actually, I don’t need the card anymore. I can make this blindfolded.

Did you know that tetrazzini is someone’s name? I didn’t. It’s the last name of Luisa Tetrazzini, a famous early twentieth century Italian opera singer. Apparently, the dish was created by a chef to honor her, a common practice back then. Like Eggs Benedict.  Tetrazzini has come to mean any cream sauce, cheesed-up or not, over chicken and pasta.
But enough rambling. Here’s the recipe. Tweaked and re-tweaked. Buon appetito.

Chicken Tetrazzini

½ pound angel hair pasta
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons flour
½ cup chicken broth
½ cup half-and-half
1 cup shredded Swiss cheese
1 tablespoon Marsala
¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg, or 3-4 scrapes of a fresh nutmeg
2 cups cooked chicken, or turkey, broken into bite size chunks
1 cup sliced mushrooms
¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese
¼ cup seasoned, bread crumbs
1 tablespoon melted butter

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Start boiling water for the pasta. Cook pasta al dente – won’t take long – and drain. (It will keep okay in the colander until you mix it with everything else.) Melt the butter in a large saucepan over low heat. Blend in the flour. Add the broth and the half-and-half, increase the heat and cook stirring constantly until thickened. Lower heat.  Add the cheese and stir until melted. Add the nutmeg and the sherry and blend. Remove from heat. Add the cooked pasta, chicken and mushrooms. Fold together until well mixed and then turn into a casserole that’s been buttered or sprayed with vegetable spray. Mix together the Parmesan and bread crumbs with the melted butter and sprinkle over the casserole top. Bake uncovered for 25 to 30 minutes. Makes about six generous servings.

A little post script:  The gorgeous red plate was part of my Mother's Day goodies from Amy. There's more to come!  Thanks, honey!

Kumato and Chevre Pie and Trader Joe’s

My bags were bulging with delectable goodies after my first in-person trip to Trader Joe’s a couple of weeks ago. I got quinoa, wasabi peas (love’ em!), kumatos, avocados, teeny, tiny new potatoes, mascarpone, fresh herbs, several cheeses, flavored vinegars, fish sauce:  you get the idea. I had a ball! If I would have brought freezer packs, I would have bought some of the fish --oh, the scallops! -- and the meat  --lamb! -- I was drooling over. But I was still a couple hours away from home and a little wary of what traveling might do to my precious cargo.
I love my life in the country and I can pretty much get all the things I really want to cook with, if I plan ahead, if I rely on friends and family to get some things for me, if I order stuff via the internet sometimes. (Pretty big ifs.) I have to admit even to myself that I have collected a pretty odd variety of pantry fare that gives Mr. Rosemary an opportunity to pretend he’s a comedian just rummaging through sometimes.

But that kind of shopping doesn’t satisfy my desire to do some cooking spontaneously. And every once in a while, there ain’t nothing like the real thing!  Like picking up a magazine as opposed to just reading the on-line version.  Seeing, touching, smelling. So inspiring! I felt just a little bit like a wide-eyed country bumpkin and I got a few sidelong glances as I’d pick something up and go, “Wow!”

I loved my trip to Trader Joe’s because of the variety and the value. Nothing seemed outrageously priced, even to the frugal me.

But now I had to do something with all the stuff I bought without a plan!

The kumatos ($1 for a box of eight!) were pretty ripe and had to be used first. A tomato pie has always been on my “wannamake” list and after looking around a bit, I was inspired a tomato and cheese tart from The Meaning of Pie. Kelly’s tart was elegant looking, with homemade pastry using lard. My pie (sans tart pan) was more rustic looking and lacked the pretty touch and sensuous taste of basil. (At the store I told myself that was one thing I could get at home often enough, and anyhow, I’d be growing it soon.) But it sure tasted good and was head and shoulders above what I imagined some of the other mayo-ed recipes I’d looked at would be.

So here’s my “Kumato and Chevre Pie.” (I’m calling it chevre instead of just goat cheese, so maybe my mother-in-law won’t wince at the word. I doubt she’ll cozy up to the quinoa.) Shame on me for not making my own pastry, but I still had some dough in the freezer, so this is a Sandra Lee version.

Kumato and Chevre Pie
Inspired by The Meaning of Pie

One sheet of refrigerated pie crust
6 ounces of goat cheese
3 to 4 kumatos (or use tomatoes)
extra virgin olive oil
salt and cracked black pepper
fresh basil leaves, if you are lucky

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

Slice the tomatoes, core them if needed, and lay them out on paper towels. Lay paper towels on top of them and press down very gently. Leave the tomatoes this way for a few minutes. The paper towels will absorb a lot of moisture and seeds.

Place the pastry in a pie pan and finish edges as you like.

Take the goat cheese and crumble it into the bottom of the tart pan. Place the tomatoes on top of the goat cheese in a slightly overlapping pattern. Lightly drizzle olive oil on top of the tomatoes, and season them with sea salt or kosher salt and freshly cracked pepper.

Bake until the edges of the pie are golden, about 45 minutes. Place on a wire rack and allow it to cool a bit. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Spiced Nuts and the Road Not Taken

I was supposed to be making these spiced nuts to take on a trip this weekend, but I’m going empty handed. Seems I have a horrible tendency to underestimate the amount of stuff I can get done in a given amount of time. Am I stuck in this rut? Is it too late to change my ways? Why do I try to cram too much into a day (or week, or month, even years)?

Thoughts to ponder as I do not munch on nuts during the five hour car ride (ten both ways, of course.)

Renae got me turned onto spiced nuts at Christmas time when she shared a sampling of three different ways she’d spiced the nuts. I was planning to make the rosemary-ornage version for this trip. And when we visited Renae, Dan and Emma a couple weeks ago, a tray of spiced nuts had just come out of the oven. Heavenly aromas! And irresistible to taste, even (especially?) warm.

This recipe, though, comes from The Teacher Cooks, who was inspired by Shutterbean.

Spicy Maple Glazed Walnuts
from Shutterbean and The Teacher Cooks


Makes 2 cups

1/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
3 tablespoons pure maple syrup
2 cups walnuts

In a small bowl, mix together the sugar, salt, black pepper, cayenne, ginger and cinnamon with the maple syrup.

In a large nonstick skillet, toast the walnuts over medium-high heat, stirring or shaking the pan constantly, until they are hot, about 5 minutes. Be careful not to burn. Immediately add the nuts to the maple syrup and toss to coat. Stir in the spice mixture until the nuts are evenly coated. Spread the walnuts in a single layer on a rimmed baking sheet. Let cool completely before serving about 20 minutes.

"Elvis" for Lunch: Peanut Butter, Banana and Bacon

I knew that Elvis had a penchant for peanut butter. And I knew Elvis's tastes ran more to the gourmand than gourmet. But I never knew about his favorite sandwich: a grilled peanut butter and banana sandwich with bacon. (Did I just hear you say “Wow!”?)

It’s been rumored that Elvis could eat up to 15 of these at a time, and the sandwich was grilled in bacon fat, but even in the interest of science, I couldn’t bring myself to do that.

I learned about “The Elvis” from reading my review copy of Susan Russo’s new book The Encyclopedia of Sandwiches (Quirk Books, 2011). It is a simply charming book that alphabetically details well over a hundred different sandwiches: their origins, history, trivia, variations and, of course, the recipes, where need be.


It has everything from the familiar – hot dogs and sloppy joes – to the funky – spaghetti sandwiches and the potato chip sandwich. And all kinds of regional faves, like po’ boys and lobster rolls. Even dessert-like sandwiches, like the pound cake sandwich and the fluffernutter.

I was hard pressed to choose just one to post about here, so you may be seeing more, and soon. And the photographs, by Matt Armendariz, are magnificent, nearly edible. Susan’s writing is, as usual, just delightful to read.

Sandwiches are ubiquitous and can be as everyday normal as the Isaly’s chipped chopped ham sandwich on white bread I took with me in my school lunch bag to the sumptuous sophistication of a Monte Cristo.

Growing up, we had a family favorite that I think it was my brother Bob who christened as “The PeaLeTom”: A peanut butter, lettuce and tomato sandwich on toast. We thought it was the poor man’s version of the BLT and it’s still a favorite of mine. Elvis had nothing on us!

When I was making this for lunch the other day, Mr. Rosemary walked by:

“Who’s that for?”

“Me.”

“Looks better than mine. What’s in it?”

After I told him, he said, “Never mind.”

The Elvis
from Susan Russo’s Encyclopedia of Sandwiches

2 tablespoons peanut butter
2 slices white bread (I used rye)
1 ripe banana, mashed (I just sliced mine)
2 slices bacon (just 1 for me)
2 tablespoons butter

Spread peanut butter on one slice of bread, banana on the other. Add bacon slices and close sandwich.

Melt butter in skillet over medium heat. Cook sandwich two minutes per side, or until golden. Eat it while it’s hot. Keep all the ingredients close at hand – you’ll likely be making another.

A Non-Easter Easter Ham and Broccoli Quiche

It doesn’t look like Easter. It doesn’t feel like Easter. It’s gray, rainy, and 40 degrees, and I'm crabby about it.  I just got back from a Florida vacation where it was sunny and in the 80’s all the time and my daughter gave me a cold down there. So, yes, I’m more than a little crabby, not to mention un-ambitious, and in no mood to cook up a festive, spring meal.

When it gets to really be rug-cutting time, I know I’ll pull my socks up and get on with it, and this is what I’ll whip up for an Easter brunch – a ham and broccoli quiche. It’s traditional, it’s classic and it just might be the ticket to put me in a spring-like mood.

I love quiche. It’s a lot like a pizza to me. It can easily handle a lot of variations, lots of different combinations. And if you take the cheater’s way out (as I often do) and use refrigerated pie dough, it’s a snap to make. (Although I have gotten much better at making pastry, I’m proud to say.) And since you can serve it warm or at room temperature, it’s a perfect company dish.

Once I hosted a baby shower for a friend and the menu was quiche, fruit salad and cheesecake. My daughter (the same one who gave me the $^#&*# cold) helped me with the quiche assembly line. We made eight quiches, four different kinds: Ham and broccoli, bacon and onion, spinach and shrimp, asparagus and ham, all with a healthy helping of cheese. First we placed a layer of shredded cheese in the pastry–lined pans, then the meat and vegetable filling, then more cheese, then poured the custard up to the edge of the pie. (Baking eight pies at once was something I’d never done before and convinced me that catering was not for me.) Everything went off without a hitch and everyone wanted to sample every quiche. Only crumbs left in the pans.

I follow the basic formula for quiche I started using years ago from a cookbook I bought from a New Hampshire restaurant called Peter Christian’s that is now defunct. I liked it because it was just a formula rather than a follow-by-the-letter recipe. I also liked the addition of sherry to the custard. The only things that are constant are the eggs, half-and-half, cheese and onions. And even those are variable to a degree. You can enrich the quiche with cream or using a variety of cheeses.

So this as Easter-y as I’m getting this year. I really had the best intentions of making an Easter Pie. If the spirit moves me later this evening, maybe . . . just maybe . . . . .

In the meantime, I hope you're in a sunnier place -- or at least a sunnier mood -- and have a blessed Easter with family and friends.

Basic Recipe for a Quiche
Serves 8

Pastry for one-crust pie
4 eggs
1 ½ cups half and half
½ cup sherry
Dashes each of freshly ground black pepper and freshly grated nutmeg and dash of cayenne pepper
4 cups grated cheese, any variety
½ cup chopped scallions
1 cup cooked and cooled vegetable of choice
1 cup cooked and cooled meat of choice
(or use 2 cups of a veggie variety)

• Preheat oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit.

• Place pastry in pie pan and flute edges any pretty way you like.

• Sprinkle 1 cup of cheese and the scallions in the bottom of the crust. Cover the cheese and onions evenly with the veggies and/or meat of your choice. Then sprinkle the rest of the cheese over the veggie-meat mixture.

• To make custard, combine the eggs, half-and-half, sherry and seasonings in a bowl with a whisk and blend well.

• Pour the custard over the cheese-veggie-meat mixture to within ¼ inch of the top of the crust.

• Bake at 425 for ten minutes, then reduce the heat to 325 degrees and bake another 45 to 50 minutes until the top is golden brown and is slightly puffed.

• Let cool at least 15 minutes before cutting. Serve either warm or at room temperature; refrigerate any leftovers if you have them.

Lemon Pasta with Shrimp – No Lenten Dissent

Growing up Catholic, we were subjected to a rather meager menu of Friday Lenten meals. There was tuna fish salad, my mom’s tomato-ed version of mac 'n cheese, grilled cheese sandwiches, and fish fry at the local Knights of Columbus Hall. Very little variety. I never really knew that real fish was ever cooked at home. That wasn’t my mother’s fault: That was just growing up in a small town in the sixties, where there just wasn’t much variety available. (Of course, sacrifice is supposed to be the name of the game, isn’t it.)

Occasionally we did have blocks of frozen some-kind-of-fish but that did little to stir any craving in me. But when I got to out (aside from the K of C) I immediately gravitated towards shrimp, Lent or not, and that’s one childhood love I’ve held onto to tightly. Shrimp in any form.

I made this lemon sauced pasta last week and it was so darn lip-smacking good, I think I’ll make it again this Friday. (So much for variety, huh?) I was inspired by Indigo’s Sugar Spectrum, who was inspired by Smitten Kitchen. I adapted the recipe, though. I used half and half instead of cream, fresh spinach instead of basil or arugula or chives and I added shrimp. The pasta was delectable on its own, but the addition of shrimp was a perfect complement. The lemony sauce is nicely tart but sweetened by the half-and-half.

I just steamed the shrimp but next time (that will be this Friday) I’m going to roast the shrimp first. Can’t believe that as much as I love roasted vegetables I didn’t think of this myself.

Before taking a look at the recipe, a very simple one, read this delightful little poem. I found this a couple weeks ago on my daily newsletter The Writers Almanac and the author was kind enough to give me permission to use it here. Get a chuckle.

Lenten Dissent

by Cherie Lashway

There once was a logger, named Paddy O'Connell,
Who at lunch during Lent, found himself at McDonalds,
And had just settled down to his Big Mac and fries,
When along came his priest, much to both their surprise.

The priest said to Paddy, "Just what are you eating?
In this season of Lent, I sure hope you're not cheating."
Paddy said to the Father, "I'll tell you no lies.
I'm enjoying a Big Mac, along with some fries."

The priest said to Paddy, "I see no repentance.
Because of this sin, you will have to do penance.

"By Friday or sooner, I say that you should,
For our fireplace, deliver a cord of chopped wood."

Now our timberman, Paddy, an overworked man,
Did think to himself, "I don't think that I can."

But early on Friday, our priest, he heard shoveling,
And looked out the window at Paddy not groveling.
And saw with confusion, dismay and disgust,
That the wood bin was now almost filled with saw dust.

He called down below, barely hiding his ire:
"Hey Paddy, your penance was wood for the fire!"

To which Paddy said, rising up from his work,
While wiping his brow and concealing a smirk:

"I've brought you a cord, like you said that I should,
But if burger be meat, well then sawdust be wood!"

"Lenten Dissent" by Cherie Lashway, used with permission of the author

Now for the recipe . . .

Lemon and Spinach Pasta with Shrimp
Adapted from Indigo’s Sugar Spectrum and Smitten Kitchen

1 pound spaghetti or linguine
3 lemons
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/4 cup half and half
½ cup of Parmesan, plus more for serving
4 cups baby spinach
1 pound steamed shrimp

Zest and juice the lemons – you’ll need a good tablespoon of zest and 1/2 cup of juice. Cook and drain pasta, reserving 1-1/2 cups of pasta cooking water. Dry out your pot, then boil the olive oil, half and half, zest and 1 cup of the reserved pasta water together for two minutes over high heat. Return pasta to pot and stir until coated. Add the cheese and 1/4 cup lemon juice and toss everything together. Add more pasta water, 1/4 cup at a time, until the noodles are nice and loose. Add remaining lemon juice, then toss in spinach leaves until wilted.  Add the shrimp and toss again.

Have more cheese on hand to sprinkle on the served plates.