Beef Tenderloin

I have a confession to make: I have slighted a friend and I need to come clean.

A dear pal visited me from the East Coast recently. It was a visit that we each had anticipated for a long time, and I put a fair amount of effort into planning an itinerary of things to do and see, and where and what we would eat for dinner. I tried to imagine what she would enjoy most and so our days were filled with a variety of activities. We toured the Ojai Olive Oil Ranch and tasted some marvelous oils and vinegars, and purchased some beautiful soaps and creams. I drove her around our interesting neighborhoods, and spent some time taking in the panoramic views of the Ojai Valley from several vista points. We shopped in the downtown boutiques and looked at some of the beautiful private schools here. We saw a couple of good films. We visited two amazing spas and the magnificent chapel and library at St. Thomas Aquinas College. We shopped at the Farmers' Market and ate at several local restaurants. And every night we made a batch of Blood Orange martinis (which I will share in an upcoming post).

So what went wrong? Well, I tried to plan some good meals at home so we wouldn't have to be in restaurants every night, so before she arrived I cooked some main dishes and put them in the freezer, ready to be reheated whenever we wanted. You'd think it must have been cold and dreary when I started my cooking binge, but it wasn't. The weather was warm and sunny, but I was in the mood for comfort food. I made a ton of chicken and dumplings and we feasted on that for a couple of nights. Thank goodness we both liked it. And I also made a large meatloaf, following the recipe I posted here on March  10. I paired it with mashed potatoes, a salad, and a decent Cabernet. Not bad at all for meatloaf, and, like the chicken and dumplings, we ate meatloaf for a couple of nights, too. But by now I was getting decidedly uncomfortable with the avalanche of comfort food (pun intended).

By the time she left California, I was hankering to cook something more elegant. This weekend, I picked up a beef tenderloin and made myself a lovely dinner, but felt guilty with every bite that Karen hadn't been treated as well. I promise I'll make it for her when she returns.

Beef Tenderloin

1 2-3 pound center cut beef tenderloin, trimmed and tied, at room temperature
1 teaspoon each coarse ground pepper and salt
2 gloves garlic, finely chopped
5-6 rosemary sprigs, about 4 inches long
3 Tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

Heat the oven to 350, and put the oven rack in the middle position.

Pat the tenderloin dry. Coat all sides with salt, pepper and garlic. Tuck the rosemary sprigs under the strings on all sides. Heat the olive oil over high heat until hot but not smoking. Brown the tenderloin on all sides, about 10 minutes total.

Transfer the browned tenderloin to an oven rack fitted over a shallow roasting pan and roast until a meat thermometer inserted 2 inches diagonally into the the center of the meat reaches 120 degrees, about 25-30 minutes. Remove the meat from the oven and transfer to a cutting board and let stand for 15 minutes. The temperature of the meat will rise to 130 degrees. Discard the string and rosemary before slicing.

I served the tenderloin with a simple green salad dressed with balsamic vinegar, oil, garlic and mustard, and a nice Ghost Pines Cabernet from Northern California. A dollop of whole grain mustard from Napa Valley gave the meat a nice zesty accompaniment.

Comfort Food: Meatloaf Done Right

In Ojai, the churches take turns hosting the Family Shelter, providing a good meal and overnight shelter to those without adequate housing. Nightly hot meals, showers and a clean sleeping space, followed by breakfast the next morning, are provided by volunteers from December through March, and this week my church recruited its members to do some cooking. The menu was already set: meatloaf, green beans, mashed potatoes with gravy, rolls and butter, and chocolate cake. It had also already been decreed that everything but the meatloaf would be purchased in bulk from Costco, including instant mashed potatoes and gravy that needed only water added to bring it to life.

Since it's pretty much against my religion to eat canned green beans, or powdered mashed potatoes and gravy, I volunteered to make a meatloaf. I think meat loaf is a wonderful comfort food, bringing back memories of simple suppers around the family table, the house redolent with the smell of it baking in the oven.

But I also have grim memories of my mother lifting that same meatloaf out of the oven in a loaf pan, swimming in a pool of its own juices and fat. Depending on the grade of ground beef used, she could easily drain off close to a cup of greasy stuff, leaving the meatloaf tough and dry.

I knew there must be a better way, and I found it on Cook's Illustrated. In their test kitchen, they found that by baking the meatloaf on a rack over a rimmed baking sheet, all the juices flow away from the loaf, leaving it moist and grease-free.

I've tried this recipe a couple of times, and while it takes quite a bit longer to assemble than the way I was taught, the results are worth it.

Glazed Meatloaf

3 ounces Monterey Jack cheese, grated on small holes of a box grater, or in a grattoir
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 medium onion, chopped fine (about 1 cup)
1 celery rib, chopped fine (about 1/2 cup)
1 garlic clove, minced
2 teaspoons minced fresh thyme, or 1 teaspoon dried thyme
1 teaspoon paprika (I used smoked paprika)
1/4 cup tomato juice
1/2 cup chicken broth
2 large eggs
1/2 teaspoon unflavored gelatin (Knox)
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
2/3 cup crushed saltines
2 tablespoons minced fresh parsley leaves
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
2 pounds lean ground beef (85% lean)

Heat oven to 375. Place oven rack in the middle position. Spread grated cheese on a plate and place in the freezer until ready to use. Prepared baking sheet by cutting heavy duty foil into a 10" x 6" rectangle, and with a metal skewer, poke holes in the foil about 1/2 inch apart. Place pierced foil on a cooling rack fitted into a rimmed baking sheet and spray with non-cooking spray.

Here is the meatloaf hot out of the oven. It was cooked on top of a rectangle of foil 

(pierced with multiple holes for draining and sprayed with Pam) 

which has been positioned on a cooling rack which in turn is placed in a rimmed baking sheet.

Melt butter in a 10-inch skillet over medium-high heat until foaming. Add onion and celery and cook, stirring occasionally until beginning to brown, about 7 minutes. Add garlic, thyme and paprika and cook, stirring until fragrant, about a minute. Reduce heat to low and add the tomato juice. Cook, stirring to scrape up any browned bits from the pan, until thickened, about 1 minute. Set aside to cool.

Whisk the broth and eggs in a large bowl until combined. Sprinkle gelatin over liquid and let stand about 5 minutes. Stir in soy sauce, mustard, saltines, parsley, salt, pepper and the onion mixture. Crumble the frozen cheese into coarse powder (no lumps!) and sprinkle over the mixture. Add the ground beef and mix gently with your hands (I wear clean rubber gloves) until thoroughly combined, about 1 minute. Transfer meat to the foil rectangle and shape into a 10 x 6 oval about 2 inches high. Smooth top and sides with a moistened rubber spatula. Bake at 375 for 55-65 minutes. Remove from oven and turn on the broiler.

While the meatloaf is cooking, make the glaze:

1/2 cup ketchup
1 teaspoon hot pepper sauce
1/2 teaspoon ground coriander
1/4 cup cider vinegar
3 tablespoons packed brown sugar

Combine all five ingredients in a small saucepan. Bring to a simmer and cook, stirring, until thick and syrupy, about 5 minutes. Spread half of the glaze evenly over the cooked meatloaf, using a rubber spatula or the back of a spoon. Place the meatloaf under the broiler until the glaze bubbles and begins to brown, about 5 minutes. Remove meatloaf from the oven and spread evenly with the remaining glaze. Place back under the broiler and cook until glaze is again bubbly and beginning to brown, about 5 minutes more. Let meatloaf cool about 20 minutes before slicing.

French Bread with Garlic-Herb Butter

When I was asked recently to bring some garlic bread to a potluck dinner, I fell immediately back into an old pattern of making a really simple assignment complicated.

I started thinking about a recipe that I’d gotten many years ago from my ex-mother-in-law. She was a marvelous cook, and in an effort to help her rookie-in-the-kitchen daughter-in-law, she gave me a little cookbook, marked up with her tips and advice. The cookbook, entitled “Hummingbirds and Radishes,” was the 1953 edition of the Kenilworth Center of the Infant Welfare Society of Chicago, and had been her go-to resource ever since it was first published. There are about 200 recipes -- some complicated, some very simple -- in this collection, and she had earmarked her favorites.

On page 109, she bookmarked French Bread with Herb Butter, and it’s worth quoting:

There are times when nothing but garlic bread will do – with the meaty casseroles or with any of the Italian things. But for more delicately flavored combinations we prefer our French bread done with herb butter. The possibilities are limited only by the scope of your herb garden or condiment shelf. Here’s one favorite combination. Try this on little three-decker tea sandwiches.

1½ sticks of butter

1 Tablespoon parsley, finely chopped

1 Tablespoon chopped chives or scallions

1 Tablespoon chopped sweet basil

½ Teaspoon lemon juice

1 dash Tabasco sauce

Soften the butter and mix in the herbs and liquids. Slice the bread and butter each slice before heating and serving.

I’ve used this simple recipe many times over the years, and I always get compliments. When I’m feeling very organized, I double the recipe, prepare the bread and freeze the leftovers in small globs to use on vegetables. For the potluck, which had an Italian theme, I mixed in some minced fresh garlic with the herbs and slathered it on a French baguette, and it was very tasty.

But I have never, ever, made tea sandwiches with it, and probably never will even though women must have done that often in 1953. Not this gal.

Jalapeno Poppers

I’ve been pretty much grounded since my surgery, limiting my activity to things like light housework, gentle exercise and way too much staying at home. But I’ve finally started physical therapy and I can feel my energy level coming back. And just in time, because last night was Girls’ Night Out and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

The occasion was to visit with a gal-pal who was here from England, so we gathered at the home of mutual friends, each of us bringing something for the meal: salad, garlic bread, pasta with meat sauce, wine and a marvelous orange butter cream cake. All of it was delicious (my appetite is coming back too!), but perhaps the surprise hit of the evening was the appetizer that Helen provided. First, she apologized for having forgotten to add an ingredient (the Parmesan cheese), but after sampling several of them, we all agreed that the final dish was just perfect as it was. We gobbled them up, those not-spicy-at-all jalapenos, and probably would have happily devoured a second platter had we not been called to the table for our feast.

The food and wine was just right and we ooh’ed and ah’ed over every dish and every bottle of wine we opened. The conversation was lively and went on far longer than our hosts probably wanted, but this was a celebration after all. It was a celebration of friendships that have endured and thrived over the years and over the miles.

At the end of the evening, we vowed to do this again and I volunteered my house for the next gathering. I know what I’m going to ask Helen to bring.

Jalapeno Poppers

1 pound lean bulk pork sausage

1 8-ounce package cream cheese, softened

1 cup Parmesan cheese

24 jalapeno chile peppers, about 3 inches long

 Preheat oven to 425 degrees.

Stir-fry the sausage in a skillet over medium high-heat until it is crumbly and evenly browned. Drain off the rendered fat and place the meat in a medium bowl. Mix with the softened cream cheese and Parmesan cheese (if you remember to add it).

Working in a clean sink or basin half-filled with water, and wearing clean rubber gloves, hold the peppers under water and remove the stems and cut in half lengthwise. This keeps the pepper fumes from getting on your skin and into your nose. Remove the seeds with a spoon or melon baller and discard. Do not touch your face or eyes with the gloves! Stuff each pepper half with the sausage-cream cheese-Parmesan mixture, and arrange in a large shallow baking pan. Bake about 20 minutes until the peppers have softened and the filling starts to bubble. Remove the poppers to a serving dish and serve hot.

Adding shredded Parmesan cheese to the sausage-cream cheese mixture probably gives the poppers a richer flavor but won’t be missed if you don’t. Another added fillip is to wrap each stuffed popper with half a slice of bacon that you’ve partially cooked in the microwave until soft, then securing the bacon with a toothpick before you finish them off in the oven. Personally, I think either addition is just gilding the lily, but it’s fun to experiment.

Makes 48 appetizers.

A Christmas Triumph of sorts

My life took a significant detour in October and ever since then I've been working on a course correction. After putting up with back and hip pain for many months, I elected to have a spinal fusion -- major surgery that really rocked my very foundation -- and it's been a maddeningly slow recovery. Not only did I not have energy to cook, I didn't even have any interest in eating. Not the fodder for a blog that focuses on cooking and enjoying the end results.

Faced with dealing with the holidays, I've made a concerted effort to get back into the groove. I've been making one dish at a time and putting it in the freezer to enjoy when the family is here for Christmas. (It's amazing how physical cooking is! Lifting mixing bowls, stirring heavy doughs, holding the electric beater long enough to whip cream, even peeling, chopping, dicing vegetables are simple tasks that sap my energy.) But each finished dish gave me the confidence to forge on, and this week, heady with new-found energy, I decided to take on The Yule Log.

For years, I created a chocolate Buche de Noel that wowed my family when I placed it -- with dramatic flare -- on our Christmas Eve table. I got away from that annual triumph when I lived in Maine and commuted back to California for the holidays and just didn't have the time to make it. Call me crazy, but this year just seemed to demand a return to some kind of triumph. I needed to prove to myself that I was strong enough to pull it off in the kitchen, and probably my family also needed to see that my life was getting back to normal.

I'd made a Yule Log so many times in the past I really didn't need to rely on a recipe, but this year I was rusty. To my chagrin, I found that I'd stockpiled 3-4 recipes for this classic dessert, and therefore decided to consult them all, working back and forth between them. That was probably not my best idea. I'm not thrilled with the texture, and I'm definitely not happy that the softer cake refused to cooperate when I tried to craft the "knots" in the log. I've done better. But, here it is, and considering everything I had to deal with, not a small victory for me.

Apple Time

In my back yard I have what real estate agents would call a "family orchard." One apricot tree, 2 plum trees and an apple tree hardly qualify as an orchard in my mind, but in terms of pounds of fruit they produce in the fall, the yard feels like a commercial-sized orchard in the San Joaquin Valley.

When I first planted those fruit trees, I was incredulous when my landscaper insisted that apple trees would grow in Southern California. Most varieties of apple require 500-1000 hours below 45 degrees in the winter to produce good fruit, but there are a few varieties that get by on a fraction of that. Enter Anna, Beverly Hills, Fuji, Gala and Granny Smith, a variety that has adapted to low-chill areas.

Late September is when my Granny Smith tree ripens and that's when I scramble to pick as many shiny green apples as I can reach. It's hard to find a cool place to keep them chilled (September can be brutally hot, even in the garage), so I usually start cooking with them before they start to deteriorate.

This year, I make a couple of pans of apple cake that I can freeze and bring out during the holidays when the family visits. I refrained from adding chopped walnuts because a certain six year old in my life is in his nut-hating stage. But they really are a nice addition to the recipe, otherwise.


Granny Smith Apple Cake

3 Cups chopped Granny Smith apples
3/4 Cup vegetable oil
2 Eggs
2 Cups granulated sugar
2 1/2 Cups all-purpose flour
1 Teaspoon salt
1/2 Teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 Teaspoon ground nutmeg
2 Teaspoons baking soda

Glaze:
1 1/4 Cups packed brown sugar
1/3 Cup milk
1/2 Cup butter

Preheat the oven to 350. Grease and flour a 9 x 13" pan.

Chop the apples fine and place in a large bowl. In a separate bowl, beat eggs and oil together and pour over the apples. Let stand while you mix the dry ingredients.

In a medium bowl, mix the sugar, flour, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg and baking soda. Fold into the apples and mix well. The batter will be quite thick. Pour into the prepared baking pan and bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes. Glaze while the cake is still hot.

Sharing a Pizza

Although we are longtime friends going back almost 40 years, it had been way too long since KT, JM and I had met to visit and catch up. One had spent half the summer in Idaho, the other was in and out of town on short vacations, and the third was laying low, hobbled by a bad back and a broken toe. On a magnificent summer day recently, we met at Ojai's popular new restaurant, La Fonte Pizze, for lunch and conversation. We sat in a quiet corner on the restaurant's back patio so we could talk, and talk, and talk.

After much deliberation (their menu is lengthy), we decided to split a large salad and a pizza, and we agreed on their specialita del giorno, a chicken pizza adorned with sliced fresh peaches. I don't think the others were as enthusiastic about this dish as I was (maybe because I was the one laying low with the bad back and not getting out much), but I thought it was inventive and delicious. Delivered on a wooden peel, the thin-crust pie was piled high with chunks of white meat chicken and local yellow meat peaches, garnished with fresh basil.

This, I thought, probably wouldn't be too hard to do at home. I own a pizza peel, and the ingredients are easily available. So, why not? Well, because my homemade pizza would not come with two cherished friends and chit-chat refined over 4 decades. That is what can never be replicated.