Exotic. Different. Coleslaw? So claims one of our beloved Ladies’ Auxiliary cookbooks about its recipe for “Fruit Slaw”, possibly a perfect side dish for any summer weekend, and especially the upcoming Fourth of July holiday. Are you  planning your cookouts? Our lovely Ladies have lots to offer when it comes to our favorite classic, all-American salad.

That fruit slaw, unusual, I suppose, for the inclusion of apple (which I happen to love in my own coleslaw), grapes and mandarin oranges, comes from a favorite cookbook in my crazy collection: Out of Our League, compiled by the Junior League of Greensboro, North Carolina in 1978.

I also find myself drawn to this gem from Panic in the Pantry, a cookbook created by the Junior Section of the Manor Club, Pelham, New York, in 1975. (What is it with me and the 1970s cookbooks this week? Dunno. I’m having a retro moment…) And who was Mrs. Hart, I wonder, especially since the recipe was contributed by one Diana Beeton.

A 1956 book, the Silver Anniversary International Cookbook from sorority Beta Sigma Phi has multiple slaw options. A classic, above, as well as Old-Fashioned, and for the party people, 24 Hour.

This spiral bound beauty was edited, natch, by not one but two home economists, Betty Delmonico and Viola H. Ward. (No, I did not, could not, make those names up.)

The way I cook best is taking inspiration from the cooking of others, and making it my own. These are two of my favorite, original coleslaw recipe variations, but I want to know: What’s on the menu at your summer cookouts? Old favorites, or new experiments, either way, share ‘em with your sisters. And have a happy, safe 4th of July!

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1. Wanted: Sunny Summer Savories YES, I KNOW: technically, it is not summer. But we’ve...

YES, I KNOW: technically, it is not summer. But we’ve got forecasts in the 80s, and darn it, it’s (about to be! Whoo hoo!) Memorial Day weekend. Let the picnicking and ‘cue-ing begin! In need of inspiration? Look no further than our own archives of amazing summer recipes. Some vintage, some our own concoctions, there’s plenty to tempt palates from simple to soignée…

Let’s start with the basics, shall we? We love a good potato salad, and while we can’t make it from our own garden haul, not just yet, that’s no reason not to enjoy this all-American staple. Take a peek at our Ladies’ Auxiliary vintage recipe round-up, and you’ll find something just perfect for your picnic table.

I love fried chicken, but try to do like my disciplined friend Mimi: indulge in it, and indulge good, just once a year. If this isn’t your moment for deep fried decadence, my high school reunion special roast chicken is good hot, warm or cold, and makes a healthier, impossibly easy stand-in.

To continue the healthy theme, check out my Asian-inflected food blog roundup. Among other perfect-for-the-heat suggestions is a divine cold noodle salad from uber-blogger Heidi Swanson. (Want more of the wonders of the digital recipe box? Many more favorite food blogs await you.

But wait! What about dessert? Well, you’ve read my apple pie saga, right? Though not seasonally appropriate, apple pie’s always divine…but then again, in my family, it can cause some serious strife. Maybe best to stick with the season, and let the only fool be rhubarb. Mmmm.

Ok, sisters: your turns. What picnics are you packing, what sides are you serving for this upcoming, eagerly awaited long weekend?

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MAY IS THE month where my garden comes alive, and one of the first things I start cooking is rhubarb. So what better time to take a look back, through our treasured cache of Ladies’ Auxiliary cookbooks, to see how our fore-sisters treated this ruby red delight?

I’m all about rhubarb desserts, because I love sweets that aren’t TOO sweet. For me, rhubarb’s silky, soft texture and assertively tart taste are unbeatable when it comes to pies, cakes and crumbles. My cooking sisters seem to agree.

Take the seven sisters who published their own family cookbook, “Then ‘Til Now”, featuring recipes from all seven, plus their mama. Sister Fran (she’s at 8 o’clock in the picture) contributed the book’s only rhubarb receipt, and it couldn’t be simpler – just one dish! (That’s it up above, at the top of this post.)

The Ladies are, mostly, rhubarb purists; the experimental concoctions we see for other ingredients are in short supply for the ruby red stalks. But then – what’s an auxiliary cookbook journey without a spin in the Jello outboard?

Ok, back on planet “I would actually eat that”, we have simple, classic recipes. Rhubarb custard pie? Perfect, exactly as you’d expect from the members of the New Jersey Garden Club. I especially love that it calls for “a lump of butter”. That, friends, is straight from the days when cooks trusted themselves in the kitchen.

And, of course, the ladies are hip to everyone’s favorite rhubarb cohort, strawberries. Though we won’t have those from the garden for a while, they’re worth waiting for, if you can indulge in a special betty. Though I’d use butter instead of margarine, I can’t quibble with this simple recipe.

The only thing I couldn’t find? To my surprise, not a single one of my sweet cookery books featured a recipe for rhubarb jam or conserve, which sounds awfully appealing to me. Have any of you sisters got one from your own culinary archives to share?

And on another note, be sure to watch for my own take on rhubarb, over at my new gig for OnEarth magazine – a once-a-week look at my gardening (mis)adventures.

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WASP BY BIRTH, non-religious by choice, I nonetheless welcome the religious holidays that herald the start of spring. While my kids are counting down to the Easter Bunny, I’m thrilled to celebrate Passover tonight.

Passover has a special meaning for me, never mind my lack of faith or even Jewish roots. It’s a holiday when I celebrated the family I’ve formed over the years, from friends and children and shared experiences. When I lived in L.A., I spent nearly every Passover with my sister-friend Chris and her family…which is why this morning, I found the picture above in my email inbox. Chris’ email said “Brisket ‘before’ Picture.” I’ll just title it, “The Brisket I Won’t Be Eeating”.

Though I’ll miss my family-of-friends in L.A., though I’m lucky to be joining new friends for tonight’s celebration…and I’m bringing my favorite Kosher-for-Passover chocolate cake. I found the recipe thanks to Martha Stewart, and it’s a part of my ever-evolving sister, Passover story. I hope you’ll read, and enjoy, and if you need a seder dessert, cook along with me. Zissen Pesach to all.

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FOUR YEARS INTO my own voluntary rural exile, I have no regrets, save one: I miss the Asian cuisine paradise that I left behind in L.A. But like a good country girl should, I’m fixing the problem, one cookbook at a time.

I was spoiled in L.A. I lived blocks from Thai Town, a quick drive away from amazing dim sum. Our favorite sushi bar at the bottom of our hill was an omakase treasure. Even the Chinese food we could get delivered was amazing: I still crave a certain version of chicken fried rice with spinach that I ate several times a week while  pregnant (and sick as a dog) with the Rock.  True, we get to New York City a few times a year, and we indulge our cravings there, but let’s face it, access is everything.

At the behest of my husband, pining for soba noodles and eager to reduce his cholesterol a bit, I decided to reorient our meals: more vegetarian, less fat…you get the idea. Usually, I’d just head online and surf my way to answers. I did a bit of that, returning to some of my own favorite food blogs and some new discoveries, like the gorgeous Rasa Malaysia. But I wanted that great experience of curling up with a cookbook, and so I also dug into my own overstuffed shelves to rediscover some old (and new) treasures.

I started with my Christmas present to myself: David Tanis’ too beautiful to be believed Heart of the Artichoke. Not an Asian cookbook, but it has a few Asian recipes (and a whole bunch of other amazing ones, too) and his Vietnamese pho was first on my list. A savory broth warm with cinnamon and rich with fish sauce, it is still light, with slivers of beef, rice noodles and lots of fresh herbs. Heaven in a deep, warm bowl.

Next I turned to a book that led me to one of my favorite food bloggers, Heidi Swanson of 101 Cookbooks. SuperNatural Cooking offers a recipe for otsu, a dish of soba noodles and tofu in an addictive ginger soy dressing I could eat every day. And save the extra sauce: it’s great on rice, vegetables, you name it.

For another light soup night, I revisited a cookbook I’ve loved cooking from for at least five years now, Nina Simonds’ A Spoonful of Ginger is full of knowledge and inspiration, but for sheer comfort, you can’t top her Chinese chicken soup. (The recipe is available on her website, too: scroll to the bottom of this page.)

Finally, I took a deep breath and dove into the mammoth, profane work of art that is David Chang’s Momofuku cookbook. I bought it the very first time I (finally) visited Chang’s Noodle Bar, but hadn’t worked up the courage (or the pantry) to try the recipes: Chang calls for a few esoteric ingredients, like usukuchi (light) soy sauce, in many of his recipes.

I made a (fun!) field trip to an Asian supermarket in Albany, 45 minutes away, but you can also order online at eFoodDepot. Here’s what I have to say about his recipes: they are worth the effort. And they’re not all complex. I made an incredible, fast dinner from udon noodles tossed with his ginger scallion sauce (hardest part: chopping) and pan-grilled asparagus and tofu served with his miso butter (white miso blended with butter–insanely delicious, if not the most cholesterol-lowering menu item.)

Nearly two weeks into my culinary odyssey, I’ve barely scratched the surface of what these fantastic cooks have to teach me, and as I look out my window at a gorgeous curtain of falling snow, Los Angeles, culinary wonderland that it is, seems like less of a loss. What are you cooking in the new year, sisters?

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ALL GOOD THINGS must come to an end. It’s a cliché for a reason. True of this year’s bounteous harvest, and of our ongoing blog-fest cooking marathon. But with the ultimate foodie holiday on the horizon, I’ve got some good things to give thanks for, and to share.

When your life turns upside down, either by choice or by force, it can take a long time, years even, to see what’s been transformed, and what’s remained the same. When my family and I left Los Angeles nearly four years ago for our now-not-so-new home in the (very) rural Hudson Valley, we were able to anticipate a lot of the changes. But one I didn’t foresee was that my Thanksgiving traditions, ones I’d held to perhaps a little too tightly, would fall away without my even noticing.

You see, my children had to remind me last week that yes, in fact, this Thanksgiving would be the very first one we’d spend dining, myself at the culinary helm, in our now-not-so-new house. After years of hanging on like a solo mariner in a gale, I’d let go of the lines. Not one but three different sets of friends have hosted us over these last few years. I helped, I brought, I ate, but every time,  I was decidedly not in control of anything from menu to table setting to guest list. And guess what? I survived. (Should we take it personally that none of them have invited us back? God, I hope not.)

This year, I’m back in charge, at least nominally. The turkey, from a new and dear friend’s farm, is in the fridge. I’ll be hunting for local sweet potatoes today, and hitting my favorite bakery for bread for stuffing, too. I haven’t yet figured out exactly what’s going in my turkey brine, nor which stuffing recipe I’ll use. (For years, and years and YEARS: I sent invitations. In the MAIL. I made and remade guest lists. And my menu? It never varied. Not a whit.)

Is it better this way, loose and a little serendipitous? Yes, and no. Is it different? Yes, and no. But we’ve found our way through all the changes to a place that suits us. I’m as excited as ever for my feast, but a lot more relaxed about what the day will bring. It’s a nice metaphor, really, for the pace of rural life, where you are constantly butting up against the unexpected, the inconvenient, and the just plain absurd, most attributable to natural, not human, capriciousness.

So this year, I’ll raise a glass to the unexpected, and a newfound ability to embrace its gifts as well as its challenges. What better way to appreciate the bounty that feeds us?

(Need more substantial Thanksgiving guidance? Be sure to check out some of my favorite Thanksgiving recipes here, here and here. Need to relax? Check out our best-ever picks for Thanksgiving movies. And whatever you do, be sure to visit my fellow Fall Fest bloggers for this last week of goodness.)

Alana of Eating from the Ground Up on Turkeys and Apple

Caron of San Diego Foodstuff : Bounty to Be Grateful For in the Form of Community (And Pecan Pie.)

Liz and the crew at the Food Network on Thanksgiving Bounty We’re Grateful For.

Jennifer at The Gilded Fork on gratitude.

Caroline at The Wright Recipe on Butternut Squash Biscuits.

Tara at Teas and Cookies on surprisingly wonderful stuffed pumpkin.

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EVERY YEAR THIS time, I start to experience subtle, creeping dread. It has to do with Thanksgiving, and it’s not fear of the turkey. No, I’m stopped in my tracks by marshmallow, maple, sugary peril: fear of the sweet potato cliché that dominates Thanksgiving tables coast to coast. I just can’t do it, folks: I like sweet, sure, but it has a place, and it’s NOT as cloud cover over a perfectly good casserole full of vegetables. I’ve come up with a solution, thanks to a dish served a few weeks back by a new friend.

It was one of those blind-date dinner parties: our husbands were friends; all our friends were friends, but we, the two women in question? We’d managed to never really meet. “Wouldn’t it be hilarious,” one mutual friend mused that afternoon, “if you guys totally hated each other?” Um, NO, it wouldn’t. I was a little nervous, and so was she. We had nothing to fear: it was love from the minute I stepped into her kitchen and she put me to work finishing her roasted sweet potatoes. Tossed with olive oil, roasted until soft and crisp, they had shallots and pecans nestled in among them, she instructed me to add a sprinkling of tart blue cheese just before serving. They were heaven on a plate, and I begged for the source. “Cooks Illustrated,” said she, and the conversation turned to other subjects.

Back at home, I searched. And searched. And searched. Nowhere, NOWHERE could I find anything resembling what she served. So I made it up as I went along, and a try or two later, at the urging of my husband, mother and, oh my, even my children, this is the Thanksgiving sweet potato side my family is going to call their own.

Roasted Sweet Potatoes with Pecans and Blue Cheese
Serves 6

4-5 medium sweet potatoes, peeled and chopped into 1/2 dice
1 T olive oil
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1/2 teaspoon coarse salt
a few grinds of good black pepper
4 slices thick bacon, cut into 3/8 inch wide strips (across the slice, not along it), cooked until just crisp and drained on paper towels
6 shallots, peeled, trimmed and quartered
3/4 cup pecan halves
2 ounces firm blue cheese, crumbled

Preheat the oven to 425 F. Toss the potatoes and shallots with the olive oil, thyme and salt and pepper. Place on a rimmed cookie sheet and roast in the oven, stirring several times, for about 40 minutes or until nicely browned and starting to get crunchy, but still soft within–in other words, don’t dry them out!  Add the pecans and bacon, and roast for another 10 minutes. Remove from oven, sprinkle with the blue cheese and serve. Wait for the praise that is certain to come your way

Like all good things, Fall Fest must come to an end, and ours is approaching. So don’t miss out on all the goodness from my fellow foodies:

Todd and Diane, White On Rice Couple: Sweet Potato Molasses Cookies

Nicole from Pinch My Salt: Cumin-Scented Sweet Potato Hash

Michelle at Cooking Channel: Sweet Potato Cupcakes With Marshmallow Topping

Kirsten at Food Network: Sweet Potato Thanksgiving Sides

Roberto at Food2: Sweet Potato Gnocchi

Liz at Healthy Eats: Sweet Potatoes 5 Ways

Caroline from The Wright Recipes: Sweet Potato Galette</

Margaret at A Way to Garden: 9 Things I Learned From Sweet Potatoes (and a Curry)

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SEE THAT GUY at the Thanksgiving table, the one with his back toward you, with the beard and the silvering hair? Smart, handsome, successful; he had only one obvious flaw: He hated brussels sprouts. I have no patience for brussels sprouts haters, and this lovely man (my husband’s uncle) had the temerity to announce as he walked in the door for Thanksgiving, “I hope you’re not serving brussels sprouts.” Maybe I’m exaggerating slightly; maybe he waited to ask about the menu before dissing my favorite veg. No matter, my response is crystal clear in my memory. “Just wait,” I said. “Try mine.” I ignored his skeptical expression, and went back to work in the kitchen.

“Mine” of course, weren’t really mine at all; the recipe is from the late lamented Gourmet, and this recipe I have never altered, not a smidge. Why bother? The husband’s uncle? He loved them. Any recipe that can convert a determined hater needs no tinkering. What more could a cook wish for?

Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Garlic and Pancetta
Gourmet, January 2001
serves 4

1 lb Brussels sprouts, trimmed and halved (quartered if large)
2 oz pancetta, visible fat discarded and pancetta minced
1 garlic clove, minced
1/2 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 cup water

Toss together Brussels sprouts, pancetta, garlic, oil, and salt and pepper to taste in an 11- by 7-inch baking pan and spread in 1 layer.

Roast in upper third of oven, stirring once halfway through roasting, until sprouts are brown on edges and tender, about 25 minutes total. Stir in water, scraping up brown bits. Serve warm.

FALL FEST IS A cross-blog recipe (and tip) swap–and you’re invited to participate. Simply post your link or recipe or idea in the comments below my post, and also on the blogs of the other participants listed here. Want more information? Get the details (and the schedule for upcoming weeks). My collaborators’ goodies:

Alana at Eating from the Ground Up has a Brussels Sprouts Gratin.

Diane and Todd at White on Rice couple have Spicy Brussels Sprouts with Mint.

Food Network UK chimes in with Food Network UK is in with “Why I Love Cabbage Soup”

Liz at Healthy Eats: Kale 5 Ways (Including Kale Chips!)

Alison at Food2: All About Broccoli and Cauliflower

Michelle at Cooking Channel: Cauliflower with Sweet Potatoes

Kirsten at Food Network: Cheesy Brussels Sprouts

Caroline Wright from The Wright Recipe: Fresh Brussels Sprout Salad with Pears and Blue Cheese.

Caron at San Diego Food Stuff has Roasted Brussels Sprouts.

Madeline at the Gilded Fork has Bodacious Brassicas.

Nicole at Pinch My Salt: Shredded Brussels Sprouts with Bacon and Walnuts

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ROOTS ARE NOT the prettiest. There’s the evidence, right there. Lumpy, bumpy, gritty with earth, they need finesse to reveal their true nature which is, inevitably, sweet, rich, complex. They’re perfect for this time of year, and for the holiday feasts to come.

Every Thanksgiving for at least five years or so, I’ve served this soup as a first course. It is simple to make, sophisticated and surprising in flavor. I look forward to this holiday for many reasons, but serving this soup is near the top of the list. Celeriac, or celery root, its primary ingredient, is a favorite root vegetable for me. I love its subtle flavor and the way the combination of ingredients here highlight both the familiar–the aroma of celery–and the unexpected nuttiness that follows.

Celery Root and Chestnut Puree (adapted from Florence Fabricant’s adaptation of a Jean-Georges Vongerichten recipe, originally published in the New York Times )
8 small servings

2 celery roots, about 2 pounds total, peeled and cut in chunks
1 can chestnut puree (unsweetened—the cans contain 15.5 oz—I use the Clement Faugier brand)
1 cup heavy cream
Salt

½ cup maple syrup
¼ cup red wine vinegar
¼ teaspoon ground allspice
¼ teaspoon ground cloves
Freshly ground white pepper

Place celery root in a saucepan with 3 2/3 cups water and the heavy cream. Add 1 teaspoon salt, or to taste, bring to a simmer and cook until celery root is very tender, about 35 minutes.

While celery root cooks, combine maple syrup, vinegar, allspice and cloves in a small saucepan. Bring to a simmer, and remove from heat.

When celery root is tender, purée contents of saucepan. Stir in the chestnut puree, reheat and season to taste with salt and white pepper.  Remove from heat and cover until ready to serve.  If the soup is too thick, you can thin it with more cream, milk or water to taste.

To serve, pour 1½ tablespoons of warm maple syrup mixture in each of 8 teacups. Reheat soup and ladle over syrup. Serve at once.

FALL FEST IS A cross-blog recipe (and tip) swap–and you’re invited to participate. Simply post your link or recipe or idea in the comments below my post, and also on the blogs of the other participants listed here. Want more information? Get the details (and the schedule for upcoming weeks). My collaborators’ goodies:

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MY FAMILY LOVES pears. Apples, it seems, my kids can take or leave. Me, I’m a sucker for an amazing Arkansas Black or Empire or even, in a pinch, a Granny Smith. But my kids will go for the Boscs and Anjous every time. To accommodate their fruit eccentricities, I often bake with pears (or with a pear and apple combination.)
This is a recipe I’ve been making forever (really) based on one that was first published in New York magazine 20 years ago.  (See? Forever.) It came from Bobby Flay, long before the Food Network was even a glimmer in a media exec’s eye, back in the days when Martha was still catering weddings in Connecticut.

This is a great dessert for a party buffet this time of year. It’s lovely straight from the oven, but equally good at room temperature or cold from the fridge for breakfast the next morning. Alongside, serve some sweetened whipped cream into which you’ve stirred a pinch of cinnamon, freshly grated nutmeg and ground (dried) ginger. Or, for a different flavor, try mixing half whipped cream with creme fraiche (my preferred topping for the world’s best butterscotch pudding, too, in case you need more dessert-y inspiration.)

Pear and Ginger Crisp
serves 10-12

Don’t think of substituting anything for the grated fresh ginger: neither the jarred stuff nor the dried will achieve the same flavor. I find it easiest to grate the ginger on a Microplane.

3/4 cup pecans, coarsely chopped
1-1/2 cups all purpose unbleached flour
3/4 cup brown sugar
5 T sugar
pinch cinnamon
kosher salt
9 T unsalted butter, room temperature (softened)
2 T fresh ginger, peeled and grated–about a four inch long piece, give or take
juice of 2 lemons
10 medium pears, peeled, cored and cut lengthwise into 1/2 inch slices

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.

Make topping: toast pecans in a small saute pan over medium heat until they become fragrant–just a few minutes. Don’t let them burn! Mix flour, brown sugar, 2 T sugar, the cinnamon, and salt together in a small bowl. Using a spoon, slowly stir in butter–the mixture will be crumbly and bumpy–and then stir in pecans.

In another larger bowl, gently stir together ginger, lemon juice, 3 T sugar, another pinch of salt and the sliced pears. Turn the fruit into a baking dish, and cover with the topping mixture. Bake until topping is crisp, about 50 minutes.

FALL FEST IS A cross-blog recipe (and tip) swap–and you’re invited to participate. Simply post your link or recipe or idea in the comments below my post, and also on the blogs of the other participants listed here. Want more information? Get the details (and the schedule for upcoming weeks). My collaborators’ goodies:

Caroline at the Wright Recipes: Three Favorite Pear Recipes.

Caron at To Market, To Market with San Diego Foodstuff: Pecan, Parmesan Scones

Nicole at Pinch My Salt: Sour Cream Pear Cake

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