Domestic Goddess...

With our work schedules currently at odds (I'm home on weekends, Justin is at home on Thursdays and random Sundays), and Justin using my car to get to work in the suburbs, I've been spending my Saturdays largely stuck at home. I could walk over to the El or the Metra, or take a bus somewhere, but I spend enough time commuting during the week to want to put that kind of effort into getting myself places on the weekend. Instead, I've been trying to use my time productively, tackling my weekly chores like doing the laundry, and preparing an elaborate meal for us to consume when Justin gets home.

Today, even though the weather is frighteningly warm for March (I really don't see how people can continue to question the existence of global warming after this week), I decided to tackle a project that's been lingering on my to-do list for quite some time -- getting some use out of my massive (and massively expensive) Le Creuset dutch oven. I had meant to delve into the world of hearty braises this winter, but with the move, I ended up not cooking much at home through the majority of the prime braising season. When I found pork roast on sale this week, I scanned through my savory recipe board on Pinterest, and spotted a recipe from the folks at America's Test Kitchen that called for preparing it in a Dutch Oven, I decided to kill two birds with one stone, weather be damned!

Though roasted meat with apples and shallots was probably too heavy for a gorgeous spring day, it was totally worth it. This meal was delicious! Pork and apples are a classic pairing, and my roast turned out perfectly after using the probe thermometer that had been MIA in my kitchen for years until I found it during the move. The meat was juicy, tender, and cooked to just the right level of doneness. Plus, the bountiful herbs reminded me of a meal I might have eaten in France. I would definitely make this dish again, though maybe when it's cooler outside and it won't heat up my kitchen.

Good as it was, I was even more impressed by the mashed potatoes that I made to go with it, almost as an afterthought. Potatoes were on sale at the grocery store, and after discovering that Justin doesn't mind washing the potato ricer after making all those mashed sweet potatoes the past month or so, I decided to give regular mashed potatoes a try as well. However, these were no regular mashed potatoes, they were garlic mashed potatoes from Alton Brown, one of my culinary icons. I saw him make these on his show years and years ago, and they stuck in my mind but I never had a chance to give them a try until now. 

Simply put, these are the greatest mashed potatoes I've ever made. Maybe even some of the best I've ever eaten. The garlic flavor is strong, so I wouldn't recommend them if you're not a fan, and they manage to be rich even though they contain only half-and-half and no butter. Parmesan cheese adds a bunch of umami that makes the dish irresistible. I literally stood over the stove with a spoon eating them straight out of the pot after dinner when I was supposed to be putting away the leftovers. If you love mashed potatoes, you seriously owe it to yourself to give this recipe a try.

Pork Roast en Cocotte with Apples and Shallots

adapted from America's Test Kitchen

1 teaspoon dried thyme

1 teaspoon dried rosemary

1 teaspoon dried marjoram

1 (2 1/4 lb) boneless center cut pork loin roast, trimmed

8 shallots, peeled and quartered

1 lb. apples, peeled, cored, and cut into 1/2-inch wedges

1/4 teaspoon sugar

Place the oven rack in its lowest position and preheat to 250°F.

1. In a small bowl, mix together the herbs, salt, and 1/4 teaspoon pepper. Rub all over roast.

2. In a Dutch oven, heat oil over medium-high heat. When hot, add roast and brown on all sides, 7 to 10 minutes. Remove roast and place on plate.

3. Lower heat to medium and add shallots to Dutch oven. Sauté 3 minutes. Add apples and sugar. Sauté 5 to 7 minutes.

4. Kill burner heat and add roast back into pan, along with any shed juices. Cover the pot with a layer of foil, and place the cover on top of that. Cook 30 to 50 minutes in the preheated oven, or until the inner temperature reaches 140°F to 145°F.

5. Remove roast from Dutch oven. Place on a cutting board, tent with foil, and let it sit for 20 minutes. Meanwhile, add some salt and pepper to the apple mixture, stir, and cover to keep warm.

6. Slice up pork and serve with shallots and apples spooned over it.

Creamy Garlic Mashed Potatoes
adapted from Alton Brown

1.75 lbs. potatoes (use whatever you prefer, I like red potatoes or Yukon golds)
1 tablespoon salt
1 c. half-and-half
3 cloves garlic, minced
3 oz. grated Parmesan

Peel and dice potatoes, making sure all are relatively the same size. Place in a large saucepan, add the salt, and cover with water. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat and then reduce heat to maintain a roiling boil. Cook until potatoes fall apart when poked with a fork.

Heat the half-and-half and the garlic in a medium saucepan over medium heat until simmering. Remove from heat and set aside.

Remove the potatoes from the heat and drain off the water. Mash and add the garlic-cream mixture and Parmesan; stir to combine. Let stand for 5 minutes so that mixture thickens and then serve.

Easy as π...

I have finally done it! After years of good intentions, I have finally produced a pie in honor of Pi Day! In the past, my lack of experience held me back from commemorating this psuedo-holiday, as I wasn't comfortable with the idea of tackling such a seemingly-complicated confection.When I finally conquered my fear of pie-baking last year, I found myself under the weather on Pi Day, and unable to participate. This year, however, I wasn't going to let anything stand in my way; I was absolutely determined to honor the arrival of Pi Day.

I started looking through my collection of saved pie recipes a few weeks ago to make a selection. Several of the options I'd pinned to my Pinterest inspiration board called for fruits that were out of season, so those were out. I wasn't in the mood for apple pie, and I kicked around the idea of a pie whose primary filling was salted caramel, thereby eliminating the middle man from the salted caramel apple pie and the banana caramel cream pies I made last year. Ultimately, however, I decided to go with a pie that was inspired by different salty-sweet dessert pairing that is close to my heart -- the chocolate-covered pretzel.

As I mentioned recently, I'm generally more of a salty snack kind of gal, so chocolate-covered pretzels have long been a favorite of mine. They touch on all three of my major food cravings -- salt, chocolate, and carbohydrates; truly, they are a perfect food. That's why I knew I had to make this pie the moment I saw it on a blog.

The chocolate filling for the pie is pretty standard; it's basically a regular chocolate pudding, and I felt comfortable making it after tackling pastry cream for the first time last year while making the banana caramel cream pie. The crust is what makes this pie unusual: instead of the standard graham cracker crust, the base for the pie is formed from pretzels ground with melted butter and brown sugar in a food processor and packed into the bottom of a pie plate. I'd never made a graham cracker crust before, so I can't say whether forming the pretzel crust was more or less difficult, but it was certainly less work overall than a regular pie crust.

In true chocolate-covered pretzel style, the crust received a thin layer of dark chocolate ganache before taking the creamy chocolate filling. Once the pie had firmed up, the ganache layer became texturally indistinguishable from the rest of the filling, but I appreciated the extra hit of chocolate flavor that it lent. The whole thing was topped with a luscious cloud of homemade whipped cream and a shower of shaved chocolate, making it perhaps the most attractive pie I've made to date.

My only problem with this recipe was that I wanted the crust to taste more overwhelmingly like pretzels. I'm not sure if the brown sugar mellowed the salty punch of the pretzels, or if I should have just used a pretzel with a higher salt content (in my family we like our pretzels really salty, and in fact, favor the brand Salty Stix, which should tell you everything you need to know about our preferences on that front), instead of the Rold Golds that were on sale at the store that week. As it was, the pretzels gave a nice toasted note to the crust and maintained their crunchiness surprisingly well, given the wet filling.

I'd definitely give this pie another shot, with a few tweaks to the crust, even if it were nowhere near March 14th. Good chocolate pies are hard to find, and this one fits the bill. Happy Pi Day!

Chocolate-Covered Pretzel Pie

adapted from Tidy Mom

3 c. broken pretzel sticks
3/4 c. light brown sugar, divided and lightly packed
1/2 c. unsalted butter, melted
1/4 c. cornstarch
3 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa
Pinch of salt
2 1/2 c. whole milk

4 egg yolks
3 oz. bittersweet chocolate, chopped
4 oz. semi sweet chocolate, chopped
1-1/4 c. + 2 tablespoons heavy whipping cream, divided
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 tablespoons confectioners sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. 

1. In a food processor combine pretzels, 1/4 cup brown sugar, and butter; blend until mixture resembles fine crumbs. Press mixture firmly into bottom and up sides of a 9-inch pie pan. Bake crust until fragrant and just turning golden, 10 to 15 minutes; cool.
2. In a medium saucepan whisk together 1/2 cup lightly packed brown sugar, cornstarch, cocoa, salt, and milk. Place over medium heat and stir until sugar is just dissolved, about 2 minutes. Whisk in egg yolks. Cook, stirring constantly, until custard thickens and just boils, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in bittersweet chocolate and vanilla. Place pan in a bowl of ice and water and stir occasionally until custard cools.
3. While custard cools, make a chocolate ganache to cover pie crust. Place chopped semi sweet chocolate in medium bowl. Heat 1/4 cup + 2 tablespoons of heavy whipping cream in microwave about 30-40 seconds (just until boils). Pour warm cream over chocolate and stir until melted. Pour over cooled pie crust, using rubber spatula to help spread chocolate up the sides and over entire bottom of crust. Place in refrigerator or freezer until set.
4. Pour custard into cooled crust with hardened ganache and press plastic wrap directly onto surface. Chill until firm, 4 hours or up to a day.
5. Whip cream and confectioners’ sugar until soft peaks form, spread over pie and garnish with extra pretzels and chocolate shavings.

When The Moon Hits Your Eye...

Have I mentioned lately how amazing Justin is to put up with me? This point was driven home to me earlier this evening, after the two of us engaged in a ridiculous tug-of-war over a bowl of bread flour. You see, I tend to be rather anal retentive about my baking, and am a stickler for accurate measuring. The volumetric measurements preferred by American cooks, and therefore employed by American recipe authors, are the bane of my culinary existence. Depending on how hard you pack flour into a measuring cup, a seemingly standard measure can hold a wide range of actual product. Weight, however, is universal. A pound of flour weighs a pound, no matter how densely you cram it into a container.

So when I noticed Justin sweeping the excess flour from the top of a measuring cup into the bowl he was measuring it into instead of the regular container, I kind of freaked out. Cooking may be an art, but baking is a science, and I wanted the pizza crust he was making for our dinner this evening to turn out perfectly. It's hard to gauge the quality of a new recipe when you don't follow it to the letter the first time around.

Justin looked at me like I was from another planet when I asked him to re-measure it, and when I offered to do it myself, a tug-of-war ensued over the bowl of flour. Thankfully, he acquiesced, or we could have been vacuuming up bread flour from the epic mess that could have potentially ensued. I re-measured the flour using a kitchen scale, the pizza crust turned out just fine, and more importantly, Justin didn't leave me over the whole episode. When it comes to baking, I'm crazy, I know. I'm just incredibly lucky to have this man who is crazy enough about me to overlook my irrational perfectionist streak in the kitchen.

As for our dinner... it was interesting. I'd spotted an unconventional combination of toppings in Food and Wine that included sweet potatoes (which have been my recent object of obsession lately), caramelized onions in a balsamic vinegar reduction, mozzarella cheese, and soppressata, a spicy Italian salami, and was keen to try it, mostly as a potential way to use up leftover mashed sweet potatoes. While the onions were delicious, and will definitely be making an appearance elsewhere in my culinary adventures in the future, the pizza was far from the best I've ever made.

Sweet potatoes are not a good pizza topping -- very texturally challenging. I think this pizza would actually be fine without them, as the savory, spicy pork was a perfect foil to the sweet, tangy onions. Minus the sweet potatoes, I'd certainly recommend the other toppings on this pie, if you're into making your own pizza. Just don't follow my example of being a total kitchen drama queen if you decide to go that route.

If you look closely, it turned out somewhat heart-shaped...

Balsamic Onion and Soppressata Pizza

adapted from Food and Wine

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 large white onion, thinly sliced

1/2 teaspoon dried oregano

1/4 c. plus 2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

1 12-inch pizza crust, par-baked

1 1/2 c. shredded mozzarella cheese

4 oz. soppressata, cut into thin ribbons

Preheat the oven to 450.

1. In a large skillet, melt the butter in the olive oil. Add the onion and dried oregano, cover and cook over moderately low heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add 2 tablespoons of water to the skillet and cook over moderate heat until the onion is caramelized, about 10 minutes; add a few tablespoons of water to the skillet if necessary. Add the balsamic vinegar and cook over moderate heat, stirring occasionally, until it has evaporated, about 10 minutes. Season the onion with salt and pepper.

2. Top pizza crust with the mozzarella, onion and soppressata. Bake for about 10 minutes, until bubbling and golden in spots. Cut into wedges and serve.

What A Pear...

I don't want to jinx anything, but with longer days, the arrival of Daylight Savings Time, and the first inklings of warmer weather, I think spring may be arriving in Chicago. I'm not going to preclude the possibility of an April blizzard, but it certainly feels like spring out there, so I've decided to herald the (potential) arrival of fairer weather by resuming my production of frozen desserts. I know I said that I'd be checking out my new ice cream book, Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams At Home, come spring, but with the move, I'm not exactly sure where it is. I did, however, find my well-loved copy of The Perfect Scoop, so I decided it was time to tackle another one of it's recipes that has been haunting my imagination for years.

It should come as no surprise that this particular ice cream iteration involves caramel -- it's a flavor that has dominated my baking experiments for the past few years, from pies, to cookies, to previous ice cream recipes. It's safe to say, if I can figure out a way to get caramel into a dessert, I will. I particularly enjoy caramel when paired with various fruits. I may not have outgrown my childhood aversion to eating fresh fruits and vegetables, but adding caramel to the mix will almost certainly get me to eat fruit, even if it negates its natural nutritional value. So when I saw David Lebovitz's unique recipe for caramelized pear ice cream, I knew I had to give it a try.

I allowed my fear of candy-making to dissuade me from attempting the recipe for several years, and by the time I'd finally gotten some experience under my belt with making caramel, I never seemed to be able to coordinate pear season with my motivation to make ice cream. I came very close to trying this recipe back in December when my parents received a corporate gift of pears from Harry and David (say what you will about them; they do grow the most delicious pears I've ever had), but I thought we were getting close to moving, and it didn't make sense at the time to be producing more frozen food that would need to be transported from one fridge to the next.

We're still not technically in pear season any longer, but they were on sale at Dominick's last week, and it took them long enough to become ripe that I was able to overcome last weekend's bout of illness that left me inspired to tackle anything food-related, including eating. The fruit was finally good to go today, and making this ice cream recipe with them was surprisingly simple. The caramel and pear mixture was much easier to make than I had anticipated (I'm not sure if that's due to the humidity levels in my new home, or just the fact that I've gotten more experienced with caramelizing sugar), and the lack of a custard base meant that the ice cream came together very quickly.

The flavor ended up being a bit unusual -- the flavor of caramel is dominant, followed by a hint of fresh pear at the end. I'm glad that it was an egg-free base, as I think the eggs would have completely drowned out the other flavors, and the pear would have likely been undetectable altogether. As is true of nearly all of the Lebovitz recipes I've tried, the caramel pear ice cream was texturally perfect -- very creamy and smooth on the tongue.

Mostly, this recipe makes me want to try cutting out the fruity middle man, and create a purely caramel-flavored ice cream. Thankfully, though it's not in The Perfect Scoop, Lebovitz has a recipe for that as well. Stay tuned readers; I'm definitely going to make this happen.

Pear-Caramel Ice Cream

adapted from The Perfect Scoop

3 medium-sized ripe pears, peeled and cored

3/4 c. plus 2 tablespoons sugar

2 c. heavy cream

1/8 teaspoon salt

a few drops freshly squeezed lemon juice

1. Dice the pears into 1/4-inch pieces.

2. Spread the sugar in a large, nonreactive, heavy-bottomed saucepan. Cook the sugar over medium-heat, watching it carefully. When it begins to liquefy and darken at the edges, use a heatproof spatula to very gently stir the sugar, encouraging the heat of the liquefied sugar around the edges to moisten and melt the sugar crystals in the center.

3. Once the sugar becomes deep amber, stir in the pear pieces. Some of the caramel will seize and harden, but as you cook the pears, use a heatproof spatula to stir them and melt any bits of hard caramel. Continue to cook the pears for 10 minutes, until the pieces are cooked through.

4. Remove from the heat and stir in 1/2 cup of the cream, them mix in the remaining cream, along with the salt and a few drops of lemon juice.

5. Let cool to room temperature, then puree in a blender or food processor until smooth. Press the mixture through a mesh strainer with a flexible rubber spatula to remove any tough pear fibers.

6. Chill the mixture thoroughly in the refrigerator, then freeze it in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions.

Stop The Presses...

Today marks a milestone in my burgeoning side-career as a writer: after nearly three years of chronicling my life here at "The State I Am In" as a hobby, I've started writing a restaurant review column for the Chicago Daily Law Bulletin. It's not a paying gig, and I'm sharing the byline with my dad, though I do all the writing, but it's a good way to grow a portfolio as a freelance writer. There's an old saying floating around the internet that says, "The work you do while you procrastinate is probably the work you should be doing for the rest of your life." If that's true, then perhaps I'm on the right track by taking on this new monthly column. 

I'm grateful to my dad for linking me up with this opportunity, and for financing the tasting dinners necessary to write these reviews. The article is behind a pay wall at the paper's website, but here's the text of the first edition of "Dining Due Dilligence" (clever legal tie-in with the title, eh?):

On the surface, Henri, the elegant French eatery from restaurateur Billy Lawless, lives up to the legacy of its namesake, Louis Henri Sullivan. The attention to detail is impeccable, from the bus boys ironing the table linens in situ prior to laying out the flatware to the room temperature butter served to accompany perfectly crisp, individually-sized baguettes. Such scrupulous care seems more impressive in the dining room's beautifully appointed space, which features elaborate crown moldings reproduced from Sullivan's originals, deep chocolate-colored velvet walls and striking seafoam green accents.

When it comes to service, however, the attention to detail begins to falter. Timing seems to be Henri's biggest problem. Dirty dishes lingered on the table long after each course had been completed and the lulls between courses became maddening at times.

In the same vein, Henri's inconsistencies play out in its food. The meal starts strong with an array of appetizers. The pheasant consommé, though overly salty, featured an intriguing garnish of red grapes that surprised the palate and played harmoniously with the poultry. The pissaladière held the most promise, but fell flat with its chewy, insufficiently rendered (albeit house-cured) bacon. Instead, the tender escargot emerged as one of the favorites.

The entrée course brought a similarly uneven range of dishes. A game special of venison was dry, but the accompanying cocoa nib and pomegranate garnishes were on-point. The veal chop was well-seasoned, but it arrived rather undercooked despite a request for medium doneness. Buckwheat crepes featuring a mushroom filling felt like an afterthought, designed to mollify vegetarian diners. Oddly, the most delicious item to grace the table was a garnish — the duck confit, wrapped in an herbaceous pastry crust, was designed to complement the seared duck breast, but instead overshadowed it.

If you still have an appetite for dessert, the almond financier stands out for its authentic nut flavor — none of the abhorrent artificial almond flavor that dominates so many almond-themed desserts was detected.

The atmosphere alone at Henri would be perfect for impressing an important business client, but you would do well to request a four-person table if you wish your conversation to remain private. Be sure you come for dinner when you don't have to make it to the office for any afternoon meetings.

Visit Henri at 18 S. Michigan Ave., or henrichicago.com.

Guess Who's Back...

It's no secret that I'm kind of a procrastinator. That's why we're a week into March and we're still not done unpacking from our move. (Though, in our defense, we've done about as much as we can without getting more bookcases. There's simply nowhere to put the books and DVDs that are taking over the mancave at the moment. I've picked out my birthday bookshelves, but they won't be arriving until closer to the actual date.) As part of the general upheaval the move has caused in my life, I've had to put off my participation in the weekly Cake Day rotation at work for months. The last thing I made specifically for Cake Day were the pecan bars I baked back in November, though I was able to count my annual Cookie Bonanza giveaway as my December contribution to the Cake Day lineup.

First, my baking supplies were packed and inaccessible. Then, I was too busy with unpacking and getting settled to take on the responsibility of feeding something tasty to my peers. Finally though, a month after our move, I felt sufficiently prepared to tackle Cake Day once more, and I knew I wanted to make my comeback in a big way. This time, I knew I wanted to make a proper cake instead of my usual more easily-transported baked goods, so I asked if I could move my appointed day to Thursday instead of Tuesday so I could ask Justin to drive me to work on his day off, so I wouldn't have to schlep my cake carrier on the train. With that administrative task out of the way, I set about the task of selecting a recipe to try.

I have several tempting layer cakes saved to my Pinterest dessert board, involving a wide array of flavors that I love -- cinnamon, chocolate, maple, salted caramel... the list goes on and on. I've got a lot of occasions coming up that will call for cake baking, however, including my birthday and my blogiversary, so I had to be judicious with my choice. I ended up being drawn to a mint chocolate chip cake that I had spotted on a random food blog one day, largely because I've been preoccupied with thoughts of a similar confection since Mom's birthday last year. 

At the time, I had spotted a cake based on the grasshopper cocktail in my copy of Baked: New Explorations in Baking, and had wanted to make it for her, knowing her fondness for the ice cream beverage. Even on her birthday, she remained dedicated to her diet, and requested that I forgo making her a cake last year, but the idea of combining mint and chocolate in cake form stuck with me. The recipe that I'd spotted on the internet was similar, but considerably less complicated than the Baked version, so I decided to give it a go.

Though I have a foolproof chocolate cake recipe to which I am immensely devoted, I decided to go ahead and try the devil's food chocolate cake suggested by the blogger who devised this cake. The recipe originally hailed from David Lebovitz, and I trust him implicitly when it comes to making desserts, plus, my much-beloved chocolate cake recipe is a little too fluffy and soft to hold up to heavy frosting when stacked. It would be nice to see if Lebovitz's recipe could offer additional structure without sacrificing taste or texture. Thankfully, it was almost as delicious as my regular go-to cake, and it held its shape beautifully under the generous layer of frosting I applied.

The frosting itself was very simple to make, though I wished I had mint extract on hand instead of the peppermint extract I used because I think that would have tasted a bit better. Something about that much peppermint kind of reminded me of toothpaste, but nobody else seemed to be of the same mind. I particularly liked all the finely ground bits of bittersweet chocolate studding the frosting; not only did they drive home the mint chocolate chip theme, they also made the frosting extremely forgiving. I didn't have to worry about crumb-coating the cake to keep the crumbs out of the frosting, as the chocolate cake flecks would have blended right in. Given my lack of frosting skills, this was a definite advantage for me.

My offering was very well-received by my colleagues for Cake Day, and I even managed to save a piece to bring home to Justin. Being the masochist that I am, I'm still curious about the Baked grasshopper cake, but that's going to have to wait until the next month of furious cake baking is behind me. Stay tuned to see what I come up with for the cake-centric occasions to come next month...

Mint Chocolate Chip Cake

adapted from Raspberri Cupcakes

For the cake:

9 tablespoons cocoa powder (I used a combination of natural and Dutch-process)

1 1/2 c. cake flour

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/4 teaspoon baking powder

1 stick unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 1/2 c. granulated sugar

2 large eggs, at room temperature

1/2 c. water

1/2 c. milk (any variety)

Preheat the oven to 350. Spray two 9-inch cake pans with Pam and line the bottoms with circles of parchment paper. Spray the parchment paper with Pam too.

1. Sift together the cake flour, cocoa powder, salt, baking soda, and baking powder.

2. In the bowl of a standing electric mixer, beat together the butter and sugar about 5 minutes until smooth and creamy. Add the eggs one at a time until fully incorporated.

3. Mix together the water and milk. Stir half of the dry ingredients into the butter mixture, the add the water and milk. Finally stir in the other half of the dry ingredients.

4. Divide the batter into the two prepared cake pans and bake for 25 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool completely before frosting.

For the frosting:

2 1/2 sticks unsalted butter, softened and cut into 1/2-inch pieces

4 c. powdered sugar, sifted

2-3 teaspoons mint extract

5 oz. semisweet or bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped

green food coloring

Beat butter with an electric mixer on high until fluffy and smooth. Add powdered sugar one cup at a time, beating until combined. Add mint extract to taste and green food coloring. Gradually add chocolate pieces until you have a good distribution of chocolate bits.

Rolling in Dough...

Sometimes life surprises you. When I set out to make dinner tonight, I had high hopes for the new soup recipe I was going to try, which I had culled from Food & Wine. It was, for an intents and purposes, a basic potato soup, jazzed up with spicy shrimp seasoned with a special pepper paste from Turkey that I had to visit the ethnic grocery store to locate. Almost as an afterthought, I decided to whip up a batch of homemade biscuits to go with it, partially because soup alone no longer qualifies as a meal once you have a man in the house, partially because I had leftover buttermilk that was on the cusp of expiring after some ill-fated cornbread-inspired pancakes a while back, and partially because I'd spotted this recipe on Cook's Country while embroiled in one of my Saturday PBS cooking show marathons and thought it looked interesting.

As it turned out, the soup was a total flop. It was incredibly bland, and the shrimp, which weren't particularly spicy after all, didn't improve matters much. On the other hand, the biscuits, which I hadn't expected much from, given my unsuccessful history of biscuit-making attempts, were out of this world. They were, by far, the best biscuits I've ever made, and possibly some of the best biscuits I've ever eaten. Perhaps I shouldn't have doubted the folks at America's Test Kitchen; after all, they've been right about so many other flour-based dishes, like my favorite pizza crust recipe, and my new favorite pie crust.

These biscuits were light, fluffy, and soft, with a flavor that approached my Platonic ideal for biscuits -- a hint of butter, a bit of tang from the buttermilk, and the nuttiness of browned flour. Plus, they were enormous; the recipe is called "cat's head biscuits" because each individual biscuit is roughly the size of a cat's head, and that may even be too modest. They're huge, so you get the joy of eating lots of biscuit without the guilt of mentally totally up how many biscuits you just ate. Bonus!

I liked these biscuits so much that I feel it's my duty to share the recipe with you, even though the people at America's Test Kitchen are infamous for sending cease and desist letters to bloggers who publish their recipes. These biscuits are worth the risk. Go forth and make them before I get asked to take down the recipe, trust me!

Cat's Head Biscuits

adapted from Cook's Country

1 1/2 c. all-purpose flour

1 1/2 c. cake flour

1 tablespoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened, cut into 1/2 inch pieces

4 tablespoons vegetable shortening, cut into 1/2 inch pieces

1 1/4 c. buttermilk

Preheat oven to 425. Spray a 9-inch round cake pan with Pam.

1. Combine flours, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in large bowl. Rub butter and shortening into flour mixture until mixture resembles coarse meal. Stir in buttermilk until combined.

2. Use greased 1/2-cup measure or large spring-loaded ice cream scoop to transfer 6 heaping portions of dough into prepared pan, placing 5 around pan's perimeter and 1 in center.

3. Bake until puffed and golden brown, 20 to 25 minutes. Cool in pan for 10 minutes, then transfer to wire rack. Serve. (Biscuits can be stored in airtight container at room temperature for 2 days.)