Sunday, May 18, 2008 by Julie Cancio Harper.

Cauliflower has been on sale at 2 lbs. for $1 recently and I just can’t resist it. I know many people who think my love of cauliflower is bizarre and tell me so. When I ask them why, they always say that cauliflower has no taste.

Oh, but it does. The problem is that most people tend to think of it raw on a relish platter where the only flavor comes from the yogurt-dill dip in the center of the plate.

That is not what I have in mind. My maternal grandmother, Julia Urban, made a side dish she simply called “breaded cauliflower” and it was one of my favorite foods as a child.

Wedding photo of Joseph and Julia (Sinkovich) Urban.

We ate dinner (meaning lunch) at her house every Sunday, and on the Sunday nearest a family birthday we would celebrate by turning Sunday dinner into a “birthday dinner.” At a birthday dinner, not only was a homemade dessert guaranteed, but the person celebrating their birthday would get to choose an item for the menu.

You could choose anything, anything at all. My mom always wanted stuffed chicken breasts, which my grandmother deemed such a hassle that she would only make them for a birthday.

I always wanted breaded cauliflower. Every year, my grandmother would look at me quizzically and say, “Is that all?” She thought of it as just a side dish. And really, truly, it was all I wanted. I would just tell her, “You can pick the rest.”

I loved it so much that I didn’t really care what else was served. I was a glutton for the subtle creamy transition the cauliflower made as it roasted slowly in the oven. What a contrast to the buttery, crunchy toasted bread crumbs. Heaven!

I had made breaded cauliflower such an event in my mind over the years that I expected it would be involved when I got around to looking for a recipe. But it is very simple, with few ingredients and not much fuss. My grandmother never wrote this recipe down, as far as I know, but I was fortunate to get verbal instructions by phone from my mom. So we don’t have any exact measurements. No matter.

Julia Urban’s Breaded Cauliflower

Submitted by: Julie Cancio Harper

1 head fresh cauliflower (or 1 lb. frozen cauliflower)
plain bread crumbs
butter
salt & pepper to taste

1. If using fresh cauliflower, remove the leaves and cut the cauliflower into florets. Parboil in salted water for 10 minutes. You do not want the cauliflower to be fully cooked at this stage, or the final result will be too soft. It should still be firm, but not crunchy. (If using frozen, just snip the bag and pour the florets into the boiling water. Frozen cauliflower will only need about 5 minutes to parboil.)

2. In a large skillet, melt 1/2 stick of butter on low or medium-low heat. Strain the cauliflower from the boiling water, and transfer it to the skillet.

3. Add salt and pepper to taste and then turn the cauliflower in the pan until it is fully coated with butter. You can add more butter to the skillet if necessary — the bread crumbs tend to soak it up. This is all approximate and you can’t ruin it or anything, so give it your best guess. It’s going to taste great.

4. When the cauliflower is coated in butter, start with 1/2 cup of bread crumbs and sprinkle them over the cauliflower in the pan. Keep stirring and turning the cauliflower over and over until the crumbs are distributed evenly and they begin to soak up the butter.

5. Keep adding more crumbs in small amounts and stirring them in until you have the desired level of breading. Some like it light, some like a lot more crumbs. I like a lot of crumbs, so I probably use 3/4 cup or more by the time I’m satisfied.

6. Once the cauliflower is coated, pour it into a casserole and bake at 375 degrees (Fahrenheit) for 45 minutes or so. It will be hot, bubbling, and nicely browned.

Posted in recipes, weekend recipe collective, youngstown, cooking, love, nostalgia, celebration | 2 Comments »

Sunday, May 11, 2008 by Julie Cancio Harper.

For years I’ve been concerned that the many fantastic family recipes I grew up with were getting lost as the older generations aged and passed away. Life and work have taken me far afield from my home and family. I want familiar, nostalgic foods to continue providing a sense of togetherness and comfort when I cook at home. And another bonus is that it gives us an opportunity to all be in better touch in the present.

As I planned my wedding last year, I thought a lot about how families evolve and grow and how food has played such an important part in the celebrations we’ve shared. And I decided that someone should create an heirloom cookbook for all of us to enjoy. I still intend to do just that, but in the middle of planning a wedding I wasn’t able to get sufficiently organized to request recipes and follow up. (The truth is out: I am not Wonder Woman.)

I’ve not given up on the idea. To guarantee I make some good progress building my recipe collection soon, I am starting a new feature here at Learning To Eat. I’m calling it the “Weekend Recipe Collective.” Each weekend I will post one recipe received from a friend or relative. I will include a story about why the recipe is special and if there are photos available, I’ll post those as well.

We’ll start with a favorite from my father’s side of the family because it was the first ancestral recipe I received.

My grandmother, Lois Cancio, was the switchboard that kept our extended family informed of all our mutual news no matter where we all scattered to geographically. In her retirement, as I knew her, she loved to read books, write short stories and poetry, and eat and cook good food. She made homemade ice cream and cooked with wine, and from the perspective I had as a ten-year-old, that was all a person needed to do to be considered a gourmet.

In 1994, my cousin Eli and I graduated from high school and my grandmother had us over for dinner to celebrate that milestone. It was in the summer, before Eli left for the Navy and I left for college. She asked if I had any special dinner request, and since it had been my dad’s favorite, I asked for her deviled steak.

Lois Cancio’s Deviled Round Steak

Submitted by: Edward “Steve” Cancio, my dad

“This is one of my favorite recipes that my mother made. Before she moved to Virginia in the mid-1990’s, I asked her if she would write it down for me. She did, on the spot and from memory.”

1 1/2 lb. round steak
all-purpose flour
1 onion, minced
1 garlic clove, minced
3 Tbsp. oil
2 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. pepper
dash of cayenne pepper
1 tsp. prepared mustard
1 tsp. vinegar
1/2 c. tomato sauce
1 1/2 c. hot water

Cut steak into strips across the grain. Roll in flour. Brown meat, onion and garlic in hot fat. Stir in 2 tablespoons flour and the seasonings. Add remaining ingredients. Cover and simmer for 1 hour, or until meat is tender. Serve with rice, noodles or mashed potatoes.

Serves 4.

I’m fortunate that my father asked for the recipe before my grandmother died in 1996. And I’m double-lucky to have a scan of the recipe in her own handwriting. Just click the small pics below to see the full-size recipe card, front and back.

Posted in recipes, weekend recipe collective, youngstown, cooking, celebration, enthusiasms | 5 Comments »

Tuesday, April 22, 2008 by Julie Cancio Harper.

In the midst of the plumbing craziness, I’ve received an equal and opposite jolt! Today Lori Cates Hand, who blogs at Publishing Careers, has directed her readers to Learning To Eat — and with glowing praise. Thank you, Lori!

In her post, Lori mentions that Learning To Eat is mostly a food blog, and I would agree. But food comes in many forms. Finding your True Work and doing it with all your might brings a very wholesome sense of joy, just like preparing and eating a homecooked meal. It fills you up and makes you hungry for more.

Working from home integrates my work life and home life into one giant 24/7 occupation 365 days a year. And at times it will look on the page to be about two parts food to one part publishing. As we dig into the busy season in the coming months, the balance will shift towards publishing shop talk. And then back again towards food toward the end of the year.

This is the annual cycle of my life as a freelancer. And the cycle of learning to find work, do work, get paid for the work, pay the bills, buy the groceries, keep myself motivated and working and growing forward — this is what I mean by Learning To Eat. I’m only just starting and the scope will unfold as I blog along.

I thank you all for reading and for your comments. And I especially thank Lori as one of my earliest inspirations and supporters for sharing my freelance life through this blog.

Posted in balance, blogs & blogging, publishing, attitudes, editing, love, energy, freelance, celebration | 4 Comments »

Wednesday, April 16, 2008 by Julie Cancio Harper.

I finally made that pie I dreamed of. And it was better in real life.

It’s the pan. I know it’s the pan. I’ve baked dozens and dozens of pies and this is the first time I have ever inspected the crust and the word “perfect” left my lips in a whisper. It was evenly golden brown from the crusty fluted edge to the center of the bottom.

No dark spots, and no vaguely overbaked too-dark aftertaste. Also, no soggy part there in the middle because you took it out early worried that the edge would char.

And I did not shield it while it was in the oven — neither with one of those aluminum shields nor with foil. I didn’t need to because the stoneware pan baked the most fantastically even crust. I’m not going back. Not ever.

The photo above is of the first pumpkin pie in the Pampered Chef Stoneware Deep Dish Pie Plate in Cranberry. I made a second one this past Sunday when I had out-of-town guests stop over for dinner. It was as perfect as the first. Yes, I know that may be difficult to believe, but you’ll either have to trust me or get a hold of one of these pans and test it yourself. (If you need a PC consultant, I can refer you to mine. Just drop me a line.)

There has got to be a lot more pie now. Not only because I loved the fantastic results from the first two pumpkin pies. But also because baking pies this past week reminded me how easy it is to make something that improves my life by leaps and bounds.

I know there are people who fear pie baking because the crust makes them nervous. I think pie baking has a lot to do with confidence. And if you’re not confident from the start when you’ve made your first few pies, you need to keep baking more pies until you earn that confidence. It will come. And in the end you too will get fantastic results.

I’m fortunate to have learned pie baking at the elbow of two fine ladies – my maternal grandmother and my step-mother – and neither of them had any pie fear. Both made the crust by hand by cutting vegetable shortening into flour with a pastry blender or with a fork. Both got delicious results.

I’ve done it that way and I’m nostalgic about the method because it’s what I first learned. But, in my adulthood, I’ve been fortunate to receive a KitchenAid stand mixer as a gift and I recently have used it to blend the fat into the flour. It is very fast and thorough, which is especially good when you’ve got more on your to-do list today than “bake pie.”

My current pie pastry recipe contains all butter (plus flour, salt and water) and comes from Rosie’s Bakery All-Butter Fresh Cream Sugar-Packed No-Holds-Barred Baking Book by Judy Rosenberg (see the recipe on page 175 for Basic Pie Crust 1). I have also enjoyed using a crust based on vegetable oil, which I learned in my home economics class in the seventh grade. I think that there are lots of good crusts out there and I don’t think any are inherently better than others since taste and preferences are very personal.

But I tend to go back to the all-butter crust time and again because (1) it’s butter, and butter tastes better to me and (2) I have such excellent results rolling out this crust. I place the refrigerated disk of dough on waxed paper or plastic wrap, and I roll it out with my rolling pin using no additional flour. As long as it stays reasonably cold, it does not stick to the pin. If you need to work very slowly, just slide it gently back into the fridge when it starts to stick. Slide your hand under the waxed paper or plastic wrap and the gently turn it dough-side-down into the pie plate. Then gently peel away the paper or plastic and guide the dough to fill all corners of the plate. Fancy up the crust with your favorite design — I prefer crimping by hand.

For the pumpkin filling, I did a search through my recent favorite cookbooks. I did not want to trudge up to the store just to buy the evaporated milk that is an ingredient in many pumpkin pie recipes. Instead, I found a lovely alternative in From Amish and Mennonite Kitchens by Phyllis Pellman Good and Rachel Thomas Pellman.

Their recipe on page 212 contains the usual ingredients with the addition of one tablespoon flour (as a thickener, I think), one tablespoon molasses or King Syrup and one tablespoon of browned butter. Where they called for one half cup each of milk and cream, I substituted one cup of whole milk. I spiced it with ground ginger and cinnamon and left out the nutmeg because I’m running low and needed it for my secret ingredient in mashed potatoes.

This is a fantastic pumpkin custard — so delicious, soft and smooth. Once again, I’m not going back to the old way with the canned milk. I like this better. It is simpler because I often have milk in the fridge but have to buy evaporated milk just for pumpkin pie. What for? No reason, it turns out. It seems like lots of interesting things happen when I make do instead of buying ingredients just because they’re listed in a recipe.

I had been putting off pie baking for months, as I mentioned in my post about Pie Dreams, and as I slid the first pumpkin pie into the oven, I thought, shame on me! This was not some sort of difficult project to dread and delay. It was easy and fun. But I let myself get too busy and forget.

It’s amazing how finally doing something you’ve had on your mind opens the world up to you. I need to start baking pie all the time; weekly, at least, because I need to solidify my relationship with it. So I’m adding that to the cooking plan. My last pie was this past Sunday, so I need to get another one in by the end of the weekend. I’m going to go for the other dream pie: Amish-style oatmeal pie. Then we’ll see where the wind takes me.

Posted in change your mind, energy, attitudes, nostalgia, cooking, love, pampered chef, celebration, pie, dreams & dreaming, books, enthusiasms | 7 Comments »

Thursday, March 20, 2008 by Julie Cancio Harper.

I think I might as well just start where I am. I ate a donut for breakfast today.

This is very un-normal for me. Normal is a long-cooked bowl of steel-cut oats with soy milk and a shot of ground flax seed. Which sounds as appealing as gnawing on branches if it is not what you are accustomed to. But I am. I love it. I crave it, usually.

I didn’t start out that way of course. The oatmeal habit started back in 2000. It was a result of two unlikely forces colliding in my life. First: my dad and step-mom started yet another diet-slash-new-eating-plan-for-life (not uncommon). Second: I was returning to my blissful home office after two treacherous weeks shooting a short film in the desolation that is Cisco, Utah.

Note: No one eats properly on an indie film shoot, even if everyone is trying to. You eat what you can get your hands on when you can get it. Your focus is on trying to continue working without falling over dead. I have never seen so much beef jerky consumed per capita (and by professed vegetarians) in all my life. May the angels save us.

So, strung out from the road, I returned home and phoned all my parents (who live in another state) to report on my safe flight. What news have you, good parents? I ask.

The Word is oatmeal. Oatmeal, my dad reports, will save us from our ills. My dad is not a religious man, per se, but he is delightfully prone to enthusiasms. I get this from him. Enthusiasms come on like fevers. They overwhelm your sense of sight, taste, and smell. You touch nothing, hear nothing else.

I do not generally like food fads or believe in miracle foods. But what I needed at that moment — after all the film food — was a high-fiber enthusiasm. So I took his advice and ate it, every day.

Right away, my life improved.

I’m a driven freelance editor. And in the first few years I worked at home I had trouble remembering to eat. I would wake up every morning, turn on the computer and get crackin’. Until I noticed a few hours in that I had become stupid. And then it was too late to decide what to eat — can’t think, brain broken.

Many, many hours of productive work were lost because I was not smart enough to keep my blood-sugar up. And once you get a decent meal in you, you never fully recover your brain-power that day. You’ve got to start over again tomorrow and . . . it’s pretty darn hard to break the cycle once you’ve started.

The oatmeal mandate solved this. Before turning on the computer each day, I would put on the long-cooking steel-cut oats. By the time they were done, I had realized I was hungry because I could smell their steamy oatmeal invitation wafting into my office from the kitchen. A perfect system.

So then why break a perfect system by eating a donut today?

Because they were on sale. Because they were the lovely olde-fashioned kind that Eric and I love best. Because it is my birthday month. Because I’ve been very good. Because my happiness requires some variety. Because we worked on a film shoot last month and I did not get nearly enough donuts. Because I’m still learning to eat.

All of that is true.

Some days joy is worth a little lost productivity. That is my best reason to start this blog.

Posted in enthusiasms, celebration, balance, miracle foods, brain food, film, oatmeal habit, junk food | 6 Comments »