skillet-baked macaroni and cheese
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Have you ever gone away for a few weeks and found out that you’d left the freezer door ajar? Well, I did. And let me tell you, it wasn’t pretty.
Before traveling, since I’m anti-gaspillage (against food waste), I jammed whatever I could into my already-stuffed freezer, including a half-eaten tomato tart, which I thought would be nice to have ready-and-waiting upon my arrival home, partially-used blocks of butter, and the miscellaneous leftover ends of bread that one collects when one constantly buys too much bread. When I returned, I realized that one of those bread pieces had been caught in the door and kept it from sealing closed.
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Oddly, the fridge doors have an alarm, which beeps if they’re not completely shut, but the freezer door doesn’t. Coming home to an array of items that were half-frozen, half-defrosted (with gloopy liquid oozing out of them), possibly defrosted and then refrozen, and a few that were unidentifiable, was a bummer.
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Some things I knew had to go – like sausages, stock, and a rather moldy half-eaten tomato tart, that I was sure could be reheated when I returned from my travels. (I won’t share a picture of that, but it looked like it needed a good shave.) But I also had several precious bags of cranberries that I’d stashed away for Thanksgiving and while they weren’t completely defrosted, I didn’t want to (or know if I could) refreeze them, so I decided to make chutney…and a whole lotta it.
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Fortunately, all my candied and dried fruits were in fine condition and since I was cleaning my freezer, I also did a little purge of my drawers of things that weren’t sparking joy in my kitchen, and cooked them all up with some spices, some honey, orange juice, and vinegar, to make this tangy-tangy condiment.
(Just a note that dried fruits always spark joy in me. But a drawerful of little crinkled up cellophane bags with thirteen raisins or two dried apricots in them, don’t.)
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To share my joy with you, I whittled my catastrophe-size recipe down to a reasonable recipe, but you’re welcome to double, triple, or quadruple it. Although it’ll keep for a few weeks in the refrigerator, I had so much that tightly sealed the overload into freezer bags and placed them back in the congélateur. However next time I’m headed out of town, I’m going to make sure my freezer is tightly sealed, because I’d be a bummer to lose those.
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I wasn’t planning on beginning this post for a pie recipe with anything other than a story about how much I liked it, encouraging you to make it. (Which I’ll get to later.) But after I had started writing it, several neighborhoods in Paris came under attack, including mine, and I put everything on hold.
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Cafés and restaurants that I knew, and areas that I frequent, were targets, as was the area around the theatre where my outdoor market is, which suffered the worst of it. Everyone I know is okay, but others were not so fortunate. It’s a crazy world we are living in and often we just see it on television and switch the channels to something more entertaining, so we don’t have to think about it. But when it happens right outside your door, or in a city that you love so much (whether you live there or are just an occasional visitor), you can’t avoid the shock and the grief. In addition to some introspection, my hope is that this will bring a conversation and dialogue that will somehow address why – and how – this happened, and where to go from here.
I couldn’t think of a very good transition from the heartbreaking tragedy, to pie, and I’m not used to being short on words, so I’ll just say that I was happy to have this pie sitting on the counter after all that happened this weekend. It made us feel a little better.
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Some say baking heals and while I’m not much for catch-phrases and slogans, it did feel nice to be rolling out some dough to have a pie around. And a new one to me, at that. A few years ago I gave pecan pie a makeover using dark chocolate chunks, which came out so well that it became my go-to pecan pie.
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But with the upcoming holidays arriving, I was perusing First Prize Pies from Allison Kave of Butter & Scotch, looking for another pie to make for the fêtes, and landed on her Bourbon ginger-pecan pie.
As luck would have it, in addition to a bag of beautiful pecans, I also had a bottle of Knob Creek smoked maple bourbon that was so good that it was freaking me out. It was a gift from my bourbon-loving friend Elizabeth Karmel and I was looking for an opportunity to crack it open. Recent events make me realize that you don’t necessarily need to squirrel everything away until another time or save it until later. Maybe now it that time.
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This dialed-up pecan pie won first prize at the Brooklyn Pie Bake-Off, and if you’ve visited Brooklyn in the last few years, you’ll know that there’s some heavy competition out there in the cooking and baking categories. So that’s saying something. Allison noted that a heavy hand with the bourbon is always appreciated. (And I agree.) But it’s also special because of the triple-whammy of ginger, courtesy of a handful of candied ginger, a spoonful of dried ginger, and a dose of freshly grated ginger in the nutty filling.
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It was hard to interrupt him while he was eating the pie so ravenously. But when he came up for air, Romain said it was the best thing he’d ever eaten. And that’s coming from someone who’s often looked at me quizzically when served some of the foods associated with Thanksgiving that perplex the French: Gravy? Pepperidge Farm stuffing mix? A one-week obsession with cranberries? Marshmallows? Sweet potatoes? Marshmallows and sweet potatoes together?
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It helps that he, like any sane person, loves maple syrup, as well as fresh and candied ginger, which the French call gingembre confit. I gotta say, I loved this pie as much as he did. The zing of ginger really took it up beaucoup de notches, not just one notch, and the shots of bourbon helped temper what is traditionally a rather sweet dessert, which this pie isn’t. Or wasn’t, I should say. Because it’s now long-gone.
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Whipped cream is always the classic to serve with pecan pie. If you’re looking for an ice cream to pair with it, I recommend white chocolate-fresh ginger ice cream, or it might also be nice with milk chocolate ice cream instead, if you’re someone – like me – that has a hard time imagining dessert without chocolate. And if that’s the case, bourbon always plays a good second fiddle to chocolate. The pecans and maple syrup-rich filling are an added bonus.
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