Saturday Roundup
I like the “Saturday Round-Up” format. I may still occasionally post during the week if I have something special (like a contest) but other than that I think I’ll stick with Saturdays.
Just a reminder that the release date of The Second Duchess has been changed to March 1, 2011. Two more months to wait but for a really good reason. Can’t explain quite yet. Mark your calendars!
Reading this week: finished Dark Road to Darjeeling by Deanna Raybourn. Simply wonderful, as have been all her Lady Julia Grey books, and highly recommended—a new and exotic setting, a crop of deliciously eccentric characters, and of course the working-out of the newly-married relationship between Lady Julia and Nicholas Brisbane. Boo gives it five aroos, and adds that he considers his profile quite as handsome as Mr. Brisbane’s. He’s also giving his “I am the Lord and Master” stare to Cressie, who’s trying to get into the picture to tell everyone to know how much she loves the gorgeous cover.
What I cooked this week: chili. Fall is here and it’s cooler and I just craved chili with a crusty baguette. I have three secrets to chili: flour, beer, and molasses. Sound weird? Read on.
First, I mix the spices (chili powder, cumin, this ‘n’ that) with a little flour (masa harina, or fine corn flour, preferred, but plain white flour will do in a pinch) and add the spice-flour mixture to the cooked crumbled beef before adding any other liquid. When I stir it creates a sort of roux which makes the chili deliciously thick. Second, a can of beer is the first liquid I add after the flour-spices mixture. Sometimes I just stop there for all-beef, non-tomato chili (the Broadcasting Legend’s™ favorite). Third, if I’m using tomatoes, I also add a tablespoon or so of molasses. You know how you sometimes add a little sugar to Italian-style tomato sauces, to smooth out the acidity? Well, molasses does the same thing for tomatoes in chili and it’s a deeper, richer flavor.
Wrist x-rays: no news. Pain is manageable but I really wish we could get this figured out and fixed.
Writing: Writing a book is damn hard work. That’s all I have to say about that.
And finally, I am the guest editor for the Autumn 2010 issue of Solander, the magazine of the Historical Novel Society. (This is a mostly honorary title and the real editors do all the real work.) Solander features interviews, articles, short fiction and commentary, and is the only such magazine in the world for enthusiasts of historical fiction. It is fantastic. To subscribe, join the Historical Novel Society today.
Bean and Bacon Soup
Today is a dreary, rainy day, and what could be nicer on a rainy Sunday than homemade bean and bacon soup?
Read the other day in Cook’s Illustrated—one of my very favorite magazines—that rather than just soak beans, one should brine them. Yes, I know, our mothers all taught us not to salt beans before cooking them. But Cook’s did all kinds of tests and determined that soaking overnight in salted water (two teaspoons of salt per quart of water) yields better-seasoned and more evenly cooked beans in the end. So we shall see! I put my pound of great northern beans in brine last night and later today will make my soup.
As for the soup recipe itself, well, it’s never quite the same. Take some nice lean bacon and cook it crisp. Drain it and put it aside; discard most but not quite all of the bacon fat; in the remaining bacon fat sizzle up some chopped veggies, onions and celery and carrots and whatever else you like. Then add the brined beans (drained and rinsed), enough water or chicken or veggie stock to cover it all, and simmer for a couple of hours.
When the beans are tender, whizz the soup with an immersion blender (or puree about half of it in a regular blender), add more stock if it’s too thick, add some greens (I like spinach) and continue to simmer just long enough to wilt them down. Then add back in the crumbled crisp bacon, adjust the seasonings, and serve. Heavenly, and despite the bacon, very healthy. The trick is to use a smallish amount of bacon and discard most of the bacon fat. It only takes a teeny bit to produce wonderful bacon flavor.
Mmmmm, bacon.
Guilty Pleasures
…having nothing to do with history. Well, maybe only a little.
- Top Chef. Jennifer Carroll for the win! That chocolate bread pudding with peanut butter sauce sounded delectable, but people—what’s the point of posting a recipe calling for 120 egg yolks and 5 1/2 gallons of heavy cream, which ends up serving 100 people? Cut it down a little. Top Chef website fail.
- Homemade Apple Crostata. The Broadcasting Legend™ brought home a bag of Granny Smith apples by mistake, and so I’ve been baking up a storm. Delicious as a dessert with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, or as a breakfast pastry with a wedge of cheddar cheese. I don’t really follow a recipe—I make piecrust the old-fashioned way (rubbing the butter into the flour by hand) and just mix up the filling as the spirit moves me—sliced apples (skin left on, please), a little lemon juice, a little white sugar and brown sugar, a pinch of salt, a sprinkling of flour to thicken, and of course lots of cinnamon.
- Attention Deficit Theatre. I love Mad Men and these are the best recaps ever. J. Kristin Ament is a hoot and a half.
- And speaking of recaps, History Spork, from Two Historians. This comes with a hat tip to the best agent ever, Diana Fox. Needless to say I love historical movies but I sometimes follow along with commentary much like this. Although I’m nowhere near as funny.
- The Daily Digital. The adventures of my friend Laurie, her husband Philip, and their wonderful beagles. I’m nowhere near as funny as Laurie is, either.
Hambone and Bean Soup à la Broadcasting Legend™
Me: Give me the recipe for your wonderful bean soup! I want to share it with the world.
Broadcasting Legend™: Recipe? What recipe? You know I don’t cook from recipes.
Me: All right. Just talk me through it. I’ll write it all down.
BL: Well, first I bake a fabulous ham with cherry preserves and mustard and brown sugar glaze…
Me: Not the ham recipe, the soup recipe.
BL: That ham was really good, though. And hambones don’t just materialize out of thin air, you know.
Me: We’ll do the ham next time. The soup?
BL: Oh, all right. The night before I want to make the soup, I put a pound of navy beans to soak, in plain cold water with just a little bit of salt.
Me: (writes)
BL: The next day I drain the beans, rinse then, and put them aside. Then I take that big, meaty hambone and simmer it in a pot of water with secret seasonings.
Me: This is a recipe. You’re suppose to tell us what the seasonings are.
BL: Damn. You’re tough. Okay. Let’s see. A little bit of kosher salt because the ham’s already pretty salty, freshly ground black pepper, a cup of dry sherry, chopped onions. Oh, and my secret secret ingredient, celery powder. The celery flavor really cuts through the richness.
Me: Why not just put real celery in it?
BL: Is this your recipe or mine?
Me: Sorry. Go ahead.
BL: After a few hours I take the hambone out of the broth and shred off the meat. Then I put the meat and the soaked beans into the broth and let it simmer some more.
Me: By this time the house is really smelling good.
BL: Half an hour or so before supper, I taste the broth for seasoning, and add another one of my secret ingredients—a touch of cayenne pepper for heat. Just a little. Then I stir it up with the immersion blender. Breaks up some of the beans and makes it creamy. Not too much—I still want whole beans and chunks of ham.
Me: (writes and drools a little)
BL: Then I put in a couple of handsful of chopped carrots and simmer it all until the carrots are tender. Voilà! Hambone and Bean soup à la Broadcasting Legend™!
Me: (having stopped taking notes and started getting plates, pouring wine, and slicing a nice crusty bâtarde) Let’s eat!
(Note to self: next time, take a picture of the bean soup with the wine and the crusty bread and everything, before it’s all eaten up.)
The Second Duchess
Read the First Chapter
The Second Duchess is available on iBookstore!
