A Texas summer usually reaches into the far corners of October, but this year, September rolled in and dragged Fall with it. Ok, so it’s still a balmy 93 degrees, but trust me, when you’ve been battling triple digits for so long you start to think the air is supposed to feel like flannel, anything is an improvement.

My point is, the mercury has dropped, clouds have rolled in and it’s time to move on from ceviches, sorbets, watermelon and burgers; it’s time to braise. Give a quick, crisping sear to your meat of choice, submerge it in a cauldron of juices and let it go, low and slow until it unfailingly morphs into a fall-off-the-bone, throw-away-your-knife, why-don’t-we-make-this-everyday sort of meal. Truly no cooking method has ever epitomized a season like braising does Fall.

To appease the gods of two dueling seasons, I decided to make a hearty braise with the last of summer’s produce. I raided the farmers market for sweet heirloom tomatoes, plush basil and local, grass fed beef short ribs. To make it a meal, I purchased a pound of fresh blue corn-coriander fettuccini. The results were hearty, but fresh- a perfect transitional combination.

Braised Short Rib, Tomato and Basil Ragu

Makes 4 Large Servings

3 T olive oil

2 ½ pounds short ribs

Salt

Pepper

¼ c flour

1 white onion, chopped

½ c parsley leaves

2 cloves garlic

1 (14-oz) can San Marzano tomatoes

1 ½ c mixed heirloom tomatoes, cut in half if small or chopped if large

2 ½ c beef broth

¾ c red wine

Lemon juice

1 pound fresh or dry fettuccini

½ bunch basil, torn

½ c Parmesan

Place the olive oil in a large heavy soup pot over medium heat. Season the short ribs with salt and pepper and dredge in the flour. Brown the short ribs in the oil on all sides.

Meanwhile, combine the onion, parsley and garlic in a food processor and blend until finely minced. Then add the tomatoes and pulse.

Once the short ribs are browned, carefully add the mixture from the food processor to the pot. Add the heirloom tomatoes, beef broth and wine. Bring the mixture to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer, covered for 1 hour and 15 minutes. Remove the lid and simmer for another hour and a half. Remove the meat and the bones from the pot. Discard the bones. Shred the meat and return it to the pot. Season with salt, pepper and lemon juice to taste.

Bring a large pot of salted water to boil over high heat. Add the pasta and cook until tender but still firm to the bite. Drain the pasta. Add the pasta to the braising pot and stir to combine.

Transfer to serving bowls and sprinkle with torn basil and grated Parmesan cheese.

When troubleshooting home cooking disasters, folks often call on me for answers. Why didn’t my cake rise? Why did the lemon curd curdle? What’s a broiler? (You know who you are). Usually I know the answers only because at one point I had these problems myself. But just as often, I’m clueless.

Recently, several people have asked me how to keep homemade ice cream as scoopable as store-bought brands. My usual response has something to do with egg yolks and stirred custard and fat percentage….but really, until recently, I had no idea why my ice creams were freezing solid over night either.

To research the issue, I purchased a few alternative brands of ice cream; brands that kept their ingredients simple and natural. My goal was to replicate their texture with minimal stabilizers and chemicals. Guar gum and xanthan gum were instantly noticeable as the most popular stabilizers in natural ice cream brands.

Guar gum, it turns out, is little more than a ground bean from India. Xanthan gum is simply fermented glucose or sucrose. Both gums can be found in powdered form at most health stores and are primarily used in the food world in gluten-free baking.

In ice creams, both guar and xanthan act as thickeners and stabilizers. The addition of the gums will prevent the formation of ice crystals by maintaining distribution of fats and solids. It will also produce a creamy mouthfeel, meaning less butterfat and/or egg yolks need to be used to produce a satisfying texture.

But be warned; these are powerful potions. Mix them into your base too fast, and you’ll get major clumping. Use too much and the ice cream will literally be chewy. Use even more and the ice cream simply won’t set.

To avoid flops, use a light hand in both technique and amount. Some people suggest putting the guar or xanthan powder in a saltshaker and lightly dusting the liquid while simultaneously whisking like mad. Others recommend adding the stabilizers while whirling the ice cream base in a blender. Both techniques work, and if you have a steady hand, you can simply tap the measuring spoon on the rim of the bowl to release a small amount of stabilizer while whisking to incorporate.

For guar gum, use no more than .5 percent of the weight of your liquid base and .2-.4 percent for xanthan. The two stabilizers can be used in tandem, but their amounts must be halved accordingly. Being particularly horrible at math, I’ve taken to simply using a ½-teaspoon of guar gum or a ¼-teaspoon xanthan gum per quart of liquid and have been pleased with my results.

I’ve found that information on the use of guar and xanthan in ice creams is fairly limited online. If you happen to be a closet food scientist, please feel free to share your knowledge with us in the comment section. In the mean time, try this ultra-smooth, ultra scoop-able Salted Caramel Ice Cream recipe below.

Salted Caramel Ice Cream

Adapted from Gourmet August 2009

The addition of guar/xanthan to this recipe makes it beautifully smooth and easy to scoop. Try sprinkling a scoop of it with flaky sea salt or pair it with a chocolate sorbet to cut the richness. Store-bought brands don’t even begin compare to this stuff.

Makes 1 quart

1 ¼ c sugar, divided
½ c water
2 ¼ c heavy cream, divided
½ tsp flaky sea salt
½ tsp vanilla extract
1 c whole milk
3 egg yolks
Scant ¼ tsp xanthan gum or
½ tsp guar gum or
1/8 tsp xanthan + ¼ tsp guar gum

Heat 1 cup sugar and water in saucepan over high heat until the sugar becomes dark amber.

Add 1 ¼ c cream (mixture will spatter) and cook, stirring, until all of the caramel has dissolved. Transfer to a bowl and stir in sea salt and vanilla. Cool to room temperature.

Meanwhile, bring milk, remaining cup cream, and remaining ¼ cup sugar to a boil in a small saucepan, stirring occasionally.

Lightly whisk egg yolks in a medium bowl, then add half of the hot milk mixture in a slow stream, whisking constantly. Pour back into saucepan and cook over medium heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon until custard coats back of spoon and registers 170 degrees on a thermometer. Do not let mixture boil. Pour custard through a fine-mesh sieve into a large bowl, then stir in cooled caramel.

Chill custard, stirring occasionally, until very cold, 3 to 6 hours. Freeze custard in ice cream maker. Transfer to an airtight container and put in freezer to firm up.

But for every superior product there is an ingredient in need of some schooling. The plantain is one such ruffian, defiantly starchy until boiled or fried into submission. Rhubarb, frustratingly stalkey, must be stewed until spineless. And don’t forget the astringent quince, quite unpleasant until sweetened, simmered and locked tightly in a mason jar. These ingredients are by no means undesirable, they simply require a bit of prodding….sometimes blatant abuse, to render them edible.

Grapefruit is my personal wayward ingredient. The social deviant of the fruit word, grapefruit is a deceitful wench. She lures you in with ruby red juicy-ness only to spit in your eye, her bitter, pithy demeanor only making her tougher to swallow. If any fruit deserves to be crammed into a corset and told to sit up straight, it’s the grapefruit.

I probably need not say that I avoid grapefruit desserts, or used to until I encountered this Grapefruit-Rosemary Sorbet. It is a grapefruit graduated from finishing school, proof that a little rehabilitation can deem any ingredient delicious.

Pink Grapefruit-Rosemary Sorbet

Adapted From Claudia Flemming’s, The Last Course
Yield: 1 1/2 pints

1 cup simple syrup (2 c sugar to 1 1/2 cups water equaling 2 1/2 cups simple syrup.)
2 sprigs rosemary
2 cups strained pink grapefruit juice (about 3-4 grapefruits)

In a small saucepan, bring the simple syrup and rosemary to a simmer. Cook for 30 seconds, then strain the syrup into a medium bowl. If the syrup doesn’t taste strong enough, allow the rosemary to steep a few minutes longer.

Stir the grapefruit juice into the rosemary syrup. Chill the mixture until it is very cold. Freeze in and ice cream machine.

It was mid-summer and we had been boating the islands near the northern end of Vancouver Island, B.C. for several weeks. Our store of fresh veggies had run out and we were beginning to crave something green and crispy that wouldn’t involve the use of a can opener.

Our current location was a bay that decades ago had been a bustling gold mining community. Nature had reclaimed most of the “town” and we were tied to a small dock operated by the few residents who live on the bay during the summer. Luckily, they were friendly and generous and, importantly, had a large garden complete with chickens and a small greenhouse with tomatoes. After a hike around the bay, and with permission, I went into serious “hunter gatherer” mode.

This has become one of my fondest memories. Wandering around a verdant island on a warm sunny day filling my hat with the makings of a wonderful salad. Mixed greens, nasturtiums, pea tendrils, dandelion leaves, a few small tomatoes and a garnish of wild huckleberries found along the trail back to the dock. Pleased with myself and my fresh creation, I photographed and named it “Shoal Bay Salad”.

This spring, for the first time in decades, we are boatless. Happily, my garden is benefiting from our increased time at home. Now I’m wandering around in my own backyard harvesting an ever-changing selection of homegrown greens. The kales and arugula are doing well in this cool May weather and I like an assertive shallot vinaigrette with the mix. The recipe below is one of my favorites. Top this salad with some local chevre or feta for a healthy lunch or light dinner. Zesty stuff.

Greens Salad with Vinaigrette

1 Tbls. Champagne or white wine vinegar
1/2 Tbls. finely chopped shallot
1/8 tsp. salt
1/8 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
2 Tbls. extra-virgin olive oil
3/4 pound mixed baby greens such as kale, arugula, spinach, tatsoi, mizuma, mustard (any combination of strong and mild greens)
1 1/2 oz. edible flowers (optional)
crumbled goat cheese or feta (optional)

Whisk together vinegar, shallot, salt and pepper in a large bowl, then add oil in a slow stream, whisking until emulsified. Add greens and toss until well coated. Sprinkle with optional flowers and cheese.

Initially I dined with others, meeting at their suggested restaurant and suffering through an abominable meal simply to reap the relief of a smaller check. Being in my early twenties, I quickly found that my acquaintances were none too keen on spending money on food when it did nothing but deplete funds and widen waistlines. I was forced to sideline the gastronomically disinclined in favor of those who fully enjoyed savoring a wedge of Garrotxa. This of course, left me with very few dining partners and, thusly, I became my best companion.

I admit, initially the task of eating out alone was discomforting. I often opted for take-out but balancing a Styrofoam box on my knees while I slouched on my IKEA futon quickly grew old. So I slowly eased myself into the solo restaurant scene.

I started with a sushi bar. The skillful movements of the chefs eliminated the need for a book and pseudo-dining companions flanking both sides hid all evidence of my solidarity. This worked for a while until the chef took a liking to me (or perhaps grew bored himself) and started an unreciprocated staring contest. The awkward attention gave me new confidence that dining alone at a real table might not be such a bad thing.

I removed the training wheels and began again with a French-Moroccan restaurant. Sitting al fresco with a glass of wine and a chicken tangine, I realized that dining out alone was actually a treat to myself. I was aloud to eat wherever I desired, as slowly as I pleased and not be peeved by the disgusted look of my partner while questioning slowly, “What is that?” upon ordering the sweet breads. Dining alone became less about limitation and more about freedom.

This hurdle is not uncommon. I’ve heard numerous friends bereave their inability to dine out alone…or do anything alone for that matter. Perhaps the general ease at which I became accustomed to solo dining can be attributed to my being an only child. More used to the sound of my own thoughts than the chatter of people, maybe my solitude may be less solitary than others.

It seems that my philosophy of going it alone sides with that of famed gastronome, M.F.K. Fisher. In “An Alphabet for Gourmets,” Fisher writes, “A is for dining alone…and so am I, if a choice must be made between most people I know and myself. This misanthropic attitude is one I am not proud of, but it is firmly there, based on my increasing conviction that sharing food with another human being is an intimate act, which should not be indulged in lightly.”

Further into the same article, Fisher gives sage advice that has helped me move onto the next phase of independent eating: dining home alone. She suggests, “‘Never be daunted in public,’ was an early Hemingway phrase which had more than once bolstered me in my Timid Twenties. I changed it now: ‘Never be daunted in private.’”

I’ve found that dining alone at home often finds me committing the sin of sloth. Not having anyone to impress and not wanting to make a mess of the kitchen just for myself, I usually resort to a miserly bowl of cereal. During the “meal”, or soon after, I become guilty of abusing my quality time alone. All the effort put toward dining alone in restaurants simply wasn’t transferring to dining alone at home.

The chef in me was growing embarrassed as well. How dare I make a living feeding others while simultaneously neglecting to feed myself? Again, heeding Ms. Fisher, “I came to believe that since nobody else dared feed me as I wished to be fed, I must do it myself, and with as much aplomb as I could muster.”

I’ve now collected a select few meals that are simple to prepare and easy to enjoy. With little more than an added glass of wine and a piece of chocolate, I’ve brought myself back to the land of the civilized. My meals for one are now as thoroughly enjoyed at home as they are in a restaurant.

Mom’s Caesar Salad

An omelet with a side of fruit, or a plate of cheese, meat and olives are now my go-to meals of choice when cooking for myself. But the classic solo meal in my family is my Mom’s Caesar salad. She makes hers in an enormous, antique, wooden bread-kneading bowl and no matter how hard I try, I can’t make it taste the same served from anything else.

1 large head Romaine, washed and chopped

1 clove garlic

1 whole egg

½ c lemon juice

2/3 c olive oil

3 dashes Worcestershire

Dash of hot sauce or cayenne

½ can of anchovies

Salt and pepper

1 c Parmesan, grated

In a food processor, chop the garlic. Add the egg and blend until smooth. Slowly pour in the lemon juice and olive oil. Add in the rest of the ingredients and adjust the seasonings in the dressing to your liking. Toss the dressing and the Parmesan with the Romaine to combine.

While we have nothing resembling a food shortage in our country right now, there are more reasons than ever to revive the tradition of Victory Gardens. The demand for local, organic and inexpensive food is on the rise…a triumvirate of requests that seems oxymoronic. Organic herbs from my local grocery store cost two to three dollars each depending on the season. And with the amount of food I cook and the amount I get paid at work, I simply can’t afford the steep prices.

But I want to do my part and I want to eat clean. And thus I planted my first Victory Garden. Having no yard to call my own, I made do by planting a container garden. It’s small, but mighty. A few weeks in the Texas sun and I’ll have Serrano Peppers, Green Zebras, Garden Peaches and a beautiful mass of herbs - all free for the pick’n.

For those of you in the Austin area, check out the Sustainable Food Center Web site for information on how to start your own garden or to locate a community garden near you.

www.sustainablefoodcenter.org

Despite her kitchen inadequacy, Grammy had persnickety taste. She ordered the sole only if the waiter ensured it was Dover. A box of chocolates always sat on her nightstand, lid removed - only the undesirables untouched. And, as every grandmother should, she fed me brimming bowls of ice cream on the sly, sabotaging any hopes my parents had for a pleasant evening.

But Grammy introduced me to more than my sweet tooth. She created “The Secret Dinner.”

Secret Dinners are simple, elegant and slightly expensive. An invitation to such a dinner means your presence warrants the price and that you are expected to fully appreciate the luxuries bestowed upon you. King Crab and artichokes can’t be entrusted to just anyone, you know.

When I was young, there would be nights when my mom would call Grammy to chat only to hang up shortly after to gloomily announce that another of her three siblings was at Grammy’s enjoying a secret dinner. There was always gloating involved and we were left with a bitter twinge of resentment. We had not been invited.

But that’s the way the Secret Dinners worked. To save her bank account, Grammy’s guest list was limited to a select few. You just had to wait your turn. And when it came, it was glorious.

With unabashed clamor, we’d simultaneously reach for the spiny crab legs then slash and bash at them until the sweet, salty meat was freed. With ritual precision, we’d submerge our prize into a pool of hot lemon butter. Every few moments we’d pause to come up for air just long enough to pluck a leaf from an artichoke and toss it into the buttery turmoil.

Looking back, Grammy’s Secret Dinners were ingenious. They were elegant, yet casual. They were envious and boast-worthy. And (I think she really thought this part through) they were fool proof to prepare.

If you can boil a pot of water, you can make this meal. Period. Need I say more?

King Crab Legs

Buy as many as you can afford….or as many as you can eat. They are almost always sold pre-cooked and frozen so all you need to do is boil a LARGE pot of water and throw them in for 5-7 minutes to warm up.

Artichokes

Keep that same pot of water boiling and throw in the artichokes for 45 minutes or until tender.

Lemon Butter

Put a stick of butter in a small bowl and microwave until melted. Add 2-3 tablespoons of lemon juice stir and have at it.

And I found a most elegant recipe on Tartelette. One look at the photograph of her Pomegranate Hibiscus Tea and Honey Ginger Yogurt Verrines and I knew they would be perfect for Valentine’s Day. With white yogurt and jewel-toned pomegranate, the verrines manage to echo the holiday spirit without the use of chocolate.

For the sake of ease, I eliminated some of the ingredients from the original recipe and it still turned out great. I recommend whisking or blending the yogurt after the gelatin has been added to ensure that no clumps remain. To create the angled-layer effect, set the jars at a slant inside an empty egg carton. It’s a bit fussy, but the impression it leaves is so dramatic, it’s well worth the extra effort.

Pomegranate and Honey Yogurt Verrines

From Tartelett
Makes 6 Servings

For the Pomegranate Jelly:

2 cups pomegranate juice
2 tbs sugar
1 tbs powdered gelatin
¼ cup cold water
1tbs lemon zest

Pour the water into a small container, sprinkle the gelatin over it and set aside. In a small saucepan set over medium high, heat together the juice and sugar until the sugar is dissolved. Add the lemon zest and remove from the stove. Add the gelatin and stir until it is completely melted. Let cool to room temperature. Divide evenly among glasses and position them at an angle in an empty egg carton. Let set a couple of hours in the fridge.

Honey Yogurt Gelee:

1 ½ tsp gelatin
2 tbs water
2 cups Greek yogurt
½ cup honey

Pour the water into a small container, sprinkle the gelatin over it and set aside. In a small bowl, heat half the yogurt in the microwave for one minute. Microwave the gelatin for 12 seconds. Quickly mix the two together, add the rest of the yogurt and the honey. No need to let it cool, layer it on top of the tea layer and position it at the opposite angle in the egg carton. Refrigerate for a couple of hours.

This is no revelation to anyone in the food world. Chang’s madman reputation and innovative style have made him one of the most talked about chefs in recent years. And with a menu that includes scrapple, pig’s head torchon, and a blondie pie, his infamy is only growing. Irreverent and unabashed creativity, Chang shook up the East Village and the ripple effect has spread across the country.

During my time in New York, I made it to two of Chang’s (then) triumvirate of restaurants. Momofuku Ssam Bar and Noodle Bar both had memorable (and constantly evolving) menus. But it was the swoon-worthy Steamed Pork Buns that kept me, and seemingly everyone else in Manhattan, coming back.

The irony is, this most talked about restaurant item of the past year is insanely simplistic. Though the process takes quite a bit of time, there are minimal ingredients. Melt-in-your-mouth pork belly* tucked in a pillow-y fluff of a bun, a dash of Hoisin and there it is. One bite and it’s obvious that it’s a product of a mastermind.

*Pork belly is the same cut used to make bacon and should be purchased uncured.

Steamed Pork Buns

From Marthastewart.com
Serves 10-15

½ cup coarse salt
½ cup sugar
1 skinless, boneless pork belly (5 lbs)
Buns (recipe below)
Hoisin sauce, for serving
Sliced cucumbers, for serving
Finely chopped scallions, for serving

In a small bowl, mix together salt and sugar. Rub salt mixture all over pork belly, cover, and refrigerate up to 10 hours.

Preheat oven to 300 degrees.

Rinse brined pork to remove salt mixture and pat dry; transfer to a roasting pan. Roast pork until very tender, about 2 1/2 hours. Increase temperature to 450 degrees. Continue roasting pork until fat is golden, about 20 minutes more. Let cool for 30 minutes before transferring to a refrigerator until cold, about 1 hour.

Slice pork across the grain and return to baking dish with its juices. Cover and refrigerate until ready to serve, up to 3 days.

To serve, preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cover baking dish with parchment paper-lined aluminum foil; transfer to oven until warmed, 15 to 20 minutes. Brush hoisin sauce on the bottom half of each bun. Top with 2 to 3 slices of pork, cucumbers, and scallions. Serve immediately.

Steamed Buns

Makes 30

2 tsp active dry yeast
1 ½ cups warm water
2 ½ tbs pork fat or lard, melted
1 ¼ cups A.P. flour
4 cups bread flour
1 ½ tsp salt
¼ cup sugar
Grapeseed oil

To serve, preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cover baking dish with parchment paper-lined aluminum foil; transfer to oven until warmed, 15 to 20 minutes. Brush hoisin sauce on the bottom half of each bun. Top with 2 to 3 slices of pork, cucumbers, and scallions. Serve immediately.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the dough hook attachment, mix together both flours, salt, and sugar until well combined. Add yeast mixture and mix until dough comes together. Once it comes together, knead for 8 minutes.

Coat a large bowl with grapeseed oil; add dough and turn to coat. Cover with plastic wrap and let rise until doubled in size, about 2 hours.

Punch down dough. Roll dough into a log about 30 inches long. Cut dough into 30 golf ball-sized pieces. Transfer to a parchment paper-lined baking sheet and cover with plastic wrap; let rise 40 minutes.

Meanwhile, cut out 30 square pieces of parchment paper (4 inches each).

Working with one piece of dough at a time, press dough flat and, using a rolling pin, roll dough toward you into a 6-by-3-inch oval. Repeat process with remaining dough. Brush each piece of dough lightly with grapeseed oil and fold in half using a chopstick. Place each piece of dough on an individual piece of parchment paper. Cover loosely with a towel and let rise slightly, about 30 minutes.

Set a large bamboo steamer in a large skillet or wok filled with water about 1/2 inch up the sides of the steamer basket; bring to a boil. Working with 5 to 7 buns at a time, place buns on their parchment paper in the steamer basket; cover and steam over high heat until puffed and cooked though, about 10 minutes.

My main attraction to kale is its price. Thriving in cold weather, this vegetable is wildly abundant in the winter and usually one to two dollars a bunch. Even in an economic crisis, kale makes eating healthy and cheep seem less oxymoronic.

Kale is so healthy it’s a veritable vegetable super hero. Packed with folic acid, fiber, protein and vitamins A, C, K, it’s the cheapest preventative health insurance in existence. How tragic that something so rich in nutrients and flavor was once considered “poor mans food.”

Though it would be impossible for me to grow tired of my recent infatuation, I still aim for variety in my diet. I’ve found numerous recipes to utilize kale. Recent favorites include addictive Kale Crisps and a hearty Winter Panzanella, which I will post shortly. But my all time favorite use of kale is in a white bean and sausage soup. This recipe is ubiquitous in Italian cookbooks for a reason: it’s good. Try it and you’ll see what I mean.

Kale, White Bean and Sausage Soup

Serves 4

2 tbs olive oil
2 hot Italian sausage links, casings removed and filling chopped
6 cups chicken stock
1 15 ounce can cannellini beans or butter beans, drained
½ a bunch of kale, chopped in a thin chiffonade
Salt and pepper

Heat the olive oil in a large saucepan. Add the sausage and stir with a wooden spoon until cooked through, about 5 minutes. Add the chicken stock and bring to a boil. Lower to a simmer and add beans and kale. Cover and simmer for 8-10 minutes until the kale is tender. Season with salt and pepper.