30 Minute Sausage Pasta

By: Patrick Crise

Pasta was the first dish I ever made all on my own, sometime in late elementary school. I’ve been making it ever since, and the biggest revelation I’ve made in that time is that you don’t need to use a pre-made, jarred sauce if you want a quick and easy dinner. This recipe in particular exemplifies all of the reasons why I love pasta: From start to finish, it takes no more than a half hour to make, it only requires easy to find and cheap ingredients, and most of all it’s simply delicious. 

Fresh rosemary in a tomato sauce is a highly underrated flavor combination and this recipe allows it to shine in concert with a vibrant sauce with bursts of sausage and garlic. While I love a sauce that simmers for hours, this sauce really allows the simple, fresh ingredients that it possesses to shine. The sausage packs a massive flavor punch, while the combination of tomato paste and white wine makes this sauce taste infinitely more complex than its half-hour cook time would suggest. While the white wine may seem like an odd addition, it adds sweetness and acidity, while the alcohol allows the other flavors to become enhanced – it’s the same reason that vodka sauce is so delicious even though vodka has no flavor. If you can’t get it or don’t drink alcohol, no worries: a combination of water and white balsamic vinegar achieves a similar purpose of deglazing the pan and offering some sweetness and acidity. Of the hundreds of pastas I have made in my lifetime, this is definitely the most delicious relative to how quick and easy it is. While this recipe may seem basic, it allows each ingredient to shine while combining to make a harmonious dish.

Ingredients:

2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

1/2 lb italian sausage, casing removed (sub for vegan sausage if you’re vegetarian)

1 yellow onion, small diced

5 cloves of garlic, minced or pressed

4.5 oz or one can of tomato paste

28 oz can of tomato sauce, or blended whole peeled tomatoes

4 oz white wine or 4 oz water with a splash of white balsamic vinegar

2 sprigs fresh rosemary, minced fine

Pinch of red pepper flakes

2 tsp of salt, rest to taste

Fresh ground black pepper

1 lb pasta of choice, I would recommend bucatini or orecchiette 

Grated parmesan (to garnish)

Directions:

Pre-heat a 12-inch pan over medium heat and add olive oil. You can do this in a pot, but it will take longer to get the level of evaporation and caramelization than compared to what you can get in a pan. Remove the sausage from the casing and press into an even layer in the pan. If you don’t hear it sizzling immediately, increase the heat slightly. After the first side is browned, begin to break up the sausage with a spatula and brown the other side. Add the onions and salt immediately, then stir to combine. Salting the onions immediately draws the water out, which allows them to caramelize more quickly. After 5 minutes, the onions should be starting to caramelize and the sausage should be cooked through. Add the garlic, rosemary, and red pepper flakes and stir to combine. Adding the rosemary, now as opposed to closer to the end, allows the flavor of the rosemary to perfume the oil and ensure that the floral, herbaceous flavor permeates every bite of the pasta. After one minute, add the tomato paste and spread into an even layer on the pan. After it begins to caramelize – 2 minutes or so – add the wine (or water and vinegar) and stir to deglaze the pan. Make sure that the fond (the brown part stuck to the pan) is removed, as it will flavor the sauce and has the potential to burn if it isn’t stirred into the sauce. Add the tomato sauce and stir. Lower the heat slightly until it lightly bubbles and add a lid or loosely tent with tin foil. Stir intermittently, keeping a close eye to ensure that the sauce doesn’t. Cook the pasta, making sure to add sufficient salt to the pasta cooking water. Stir intermittently. After 15 minutes or so, taste the sauce, and salt and pepper to taste. Serve over the pasta and garnish with parmesan, fresh cracked black pepper, and a light drizzle of olive oil. 

*Optional

Another way I like to serve pasta sometimes is by finishing the pasta in the sauce and tossing it with butter, parmesan, and pasta cooking water to coat the pasta in the sauce ahead of time. Simply drain the pasta when it is slightly underdone and reserve a half cup or so of the pasta cooking water. Turn the heat off of the sauce and let it cool slightly. Add the pasta to the sauce along with 2 tbsp or so of butter, a half cup of parmesan cheese. Stir vigorously to ensure that an emulsion is formed. If it looks too thick add pasta water and if it looks too thin add parmesan to hone in on your ideal texture.

Harissa Pasta

Sometimes described as “North Africa’s favorite hot sauce,” the popular harissa pepper paste originates from the Mahgreb region– namely Tunisia. Its name hails from the Arabic verb “harasa,” meaning “to pound” or “to break into pieces.” In its pure essence, the beloved condiment is a pounded paste of various chilies, salt, spices, garlic, and olive oil. It can be used as a flavor base for curries and stews, and is a staple spicy condiment (perhaps reminiscent of its “cousin” Sriracha), traditionally enjoyed alongside most meals in Libya, Algeria, and Morocco. 

Ever since tasting the fiery, tangy chili paste, harissa has become a staple in my daily cooking. As lover of all things spicy, I have tried adding it to just about everything– eggs, sauces, dips, vegetables– and can confirm it makes for the ultimate hot sauce, with a nuanced flavor profile– a tingling spice, but still packed with a smokey, peppery flavor. Boston’s authentic Middle Eastern and North African restaurants introduced me to the rich red chili paste, alongside decadent labneh and creamy yogurt dips to subtly offset the bite of the spice. Simply put, it was a heavenly harmony like none other– and I have enjoyed my fair share of hot sauces over the years! 

This prompted me to buy my own harissa paste, first from the BC neighborhood-favorite Café Landwer. This, in combination with my pasta-stocked pantry and my love for Instagram reel recipes, led me to the uncharted territory of “harissa pasta.” At first, I was skeptical– pasta with harissa paste? I thought of how my dad and Nonni taught me to make pasta– the Italian pasta purists who would undoubtedly question the seemingly unorthodox addition. But, true to the passion for food they instilled in me, and my own adventurous nature, I decided to coat my noodles in the romantically-red sauce anyway. Besides, how wrong could mixing two of my favorite foods go? It was by no means a recipe for disaster, but it was perhaps a recipe for the ambitious.

The innovative recipe proved to be a pleasant surprise, balancing the heat with flavors of thyme, olives, capers, red wine, and balsamic vinegar, as well as the creaminess of tangy Greek yogurt. Thanks to this recipe, I’m convinced that harissa is the creative complement to any tasty meal. Its garlicky profile is effortlessly brightened by the acidity of ingredients like tomatoes and citrus, so it is quite versatile, and its flavors can be mellowed or intensified as desired. It adds depth and complexity to any dish; mixed with flirty heat, it becomes an addictive dance for the taste buds (not to mention a great way to clear out the sinuses!) All jokes aside, harissa is “worth the hype.” Whether you are a proud participant in the hot sauce craze or working on building your spice tolerance, add harissa to your list and be prepared for an exciting experience– it’s as if you could taste the bright, bold sun.

Ingredients:

• 1 large onion, diced finely
• 1-2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
• 3 tbsp red wine
• 3 tbsp Balsamic vinegar
• 1 (14-ounce) can crushed tomatoes
• 1 tsp thyme, fresh or dried
• 2-3 tsp harissa paste
• 1 tsp agave
• Salt, to taste
• 1 box pasta, preferably long, wide noodles like fettuccine
• 2 tbsp olives, chopped
• 2 tsp capers, chopped
• Parsley and Greek yogurt for topping

Directions:

Begin by frying the onion in oil until soft and translucent. Deglaze the pan with the red wine and balsamic vinegar and let it simmer for five minutes. Add the tomatoes, thyme, harissa paste, and agave for a hint of sweetness. Stir well and add salt to taste. You can also add more harissa depending on your spice preference, but be careful to preserve the balance of the flavors. Let the sauce simmer on low heat while you boil water to prepare the pasta. Cook the pasta until al dente. Right before adding the pasta to the sauce, add the olives and capers. Then, incorporate the pasta with a bit of pasta water and parsley. Mix it all together and top with a touch of Greek yogurt. Enjoy a plate piled high with spicy, garlicky, aromatic pasta! This recipe makes about four servings.

Recipe copied from “Sophia’s Harissa Pasta” on @fitgreenmind (Maya)’s Instagram page

Cover photo courtesy of Hint of Healthy

Sunday Soup for the Studious Soul

College often demands earnest attention to lectures, readings, and all other lengthy requirements of a syllabus, even as colds cultivate in cramped classrooms. The Boston College sickness season is a perennial event, problematically produced by the petri dish of peers. The weekend then becomes the relief for recovery as coursework never else delivers an allowance for momentary cessation of responsibilities.
Yet, the days between the elation of Friday and dimness of Monday, always remind us of time’s brevity. Ever so quickly, seasonal depression stirs into the strains of Sunday, and we regret the skip of Saturday’s self care. The evening then necessitates immediate assistance to soften the frenzies forged from flus and freezing temperatures before the week begins once again.
It requires a remedy — cure to ameliorate the perpetual feeling of remaining under the weather and below the blankets. As I self-diagnose with such sickness, I run to fill my prescription: some Sunday soup for the studious soul.
This chicken and orzo soup is truly just a take on the traditional, and classic chicken-noodle. However, I love the way the orzo absorbs the flavor of the broth and spices, and am eager to share a few of my chosen additions of ingredients that pledge to brighten the flavor and reinvigorate your taste buds, either intact or dulled by the winter wear on your sinuses. Yet, most importantly, this recipe extends my sincere suggestion to share with friends and family who need to find a similar sanctuary in a serving of soup.

Rx: Chicken & Orzo Soup

Ingredients:

2 chicken breasts

Extra virgin olive oil

Kosher salt

Freshly ground black pepper

Garlic powder 

1 cup diced celery

1 cup peeled and diced carrots

1 cup diced yellow onion

6 cloves minced garlic

1 teaspoon nutmeg 

1 teaspoon curry

2 quarts chicken stock

20 sprigs fresh parsley

15 sprigs fresh thyme

16 oz orzo pasta

Directions: 

Preheat the oven to 350℉. Generously coat the chicken breasts with olive oil and place on a sheet pan. Sprinkle the chicken with salt, pepper, and garlic powder to taste. Bake the chicken breasts for 25 to 30 minutes, until cooked through. The time will vary depending on the size of your chicken breasts.

As the chicken is roasting, add two tablespoons of olive oil into a large pot over medium heat. As the olive oil begins to sizzle, add the diced celery, carrots and onion. Immediately stir to coat the vegetables in the olive oil and then add the minced garlic. Turn the heat down to medium-low and continue to add the spices, including the nutmeg, curry, salt and pepper to taste, as well as two cups of the chicken stock. As the ingredients become fully incorporated into the small portion of broth, continue to add the rest of the chicken stock and stir with the additions of the fresh parsley and thyme. Bring the mixture to a boil and then add the orzo pasta. The orzo will take roughly ten minutes to cook. Be sure to mix occasionally.

Once the chicken is fully cooked, remove the chicken from the sheet pan and place on a cutting board. With a fork, scrape the chicken to pull it apart, making it easier to incorporate into the soup. When the chicken is fully pulled apart, gently add it to the broth with the orzo and stir to incorporate into the soup. Test the soup to see if you need to add any more salt to your taste, or add another cup of water if you prefer more broth/want to reduce the density of the soup. Serve and enjoy!

Cover photo courtesy of Mel’s Kitchen Cafe

Sopaipillas: The Famous Chilean Winter Treat

Having lived the first few years of my life in Chile, there are a couple of memories that come to mind. One of the most prominent being all the snowy (or rainy) winter evenings spent eating sopaipillas as a family. It was our favorite thing as kids, whenever the weather was gloomy or the streets were covered in snow, because we knew that meant a trip to “Los Saldes”, our favorite bakery. As soon as we heard our dad’s car pull up to the driveway we would rush to the door and jump up and down in anticipation. He would walk into the house, greet us with a bear hug, put his work bag on the counter, and off to “Los Saldes” we went. 

The bakery was always packed: as if getting sopaipillas on a cold winter day was a nation-wide family tradition – which it was in a way. Sopaipillas, a fried squash pastry dusted with powdered sugar, is a common Chilean comfort food during the winter. After school or work chileans everywhere rush home or to a bakery to eat the famous winter treat. When we lived in Chile, “Los Saldes” was our tradition, but once we moved to Perú and couldn’t find our country’s treat in any of the bakeries, a new tradition was born where I would make sopaipillas for our family at home. And let me tell you, the winter pick-me-up is a pretty simple recipe to make. 

Ingredients:

500 g squash

500 g wheat flour

2 tsp baking powder 

1 tsp salt

3 tbsp melted butter

Directions:

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees fahrenheit 
2. Wash the squash thoroughly and remove the seeds. 
3. Chop the squash into big chunks and place it in the preheated oven for 15 minutes or until cooked through
4. Remove the squash from the oven and blend it until you obtain a puree
5. Place the puree in a bowl and set aside to cool
6. In another bowl sift together the flour, salt, and baking powder and mix to combine
7. Incorporate the squash puree and the melted butter into the flour mixture
8. With your hands, unify all the ingredients until a smooth dough forms
9. Form a ball and place in a covered bowl to rise
10. Let the dough rest for 20 minutes
11. Once the dough has risen, knead it on a clean and floured surface 
12. Stretch the dough with a rolling pin until it is about half a centimeter thick
13. With a glass or a circular mold, cut out circular shapes
14. Add vegetable oil to a pan and put it on medium heat
15. Fry the sopaipillas until golden or about two minutes per side
16. Place the fried sopaipillas on a sheet of paper to absorb excess oil
17. Dust the sopaipillas with powered sugar and enjoy!

An Ode to Yuca: Garlic Mashed Yuca

A small, white mountain of creamy, smooth, garlicky goodness sits atop my mother’s blue floral plate. Heaping spoonfuls of the sustenance are passed around the dining table—the meal cannot begin without the stellar accompaniment. It’s simple, comforting, and well-loved, like a grandmother’s handmade quilt. Looking down at our plates, the soulful food is a tribute to remind us of other homes, lands away, of customs and cultures we embrace, despite being out of reach. Sometimes, a white fluffy mound of savory, starchy, stick-to-your-ribs food is the best thing to reach the heart. We enjoy our beloved yucca dish in solidarity, grinning as we taste the flavors of a warm welcome home. 

You may have heard of this dish at your favorite local Cuban restaurant. I, too, have marveled at the magic of mashed garlic yucca with my dad at our favorite spot. Beautifully complementary, aromatic garlic and hints of salt zing my taste buds as the warm mashed consistency caresses them. Whatever excited debate or chatter we had going on before the unassuming dish came out has ceased as we savor in silence. Our wide eyes and full mouths hint that we can’t help but agree—this dish is superior to any mashed potato recipe we’ve encountered. 

Yucca is a root vegetable that my grandmother prepares often. As mentioned, this dish, in particular, is well-known in Cuban cuisine, but cooking with yucca has been a staple in Mama Silvia’s Guatemalan cooking for years, as it’s popular throughout Latin America. It’s a great substitute for potatoes, with a mild taste and starchy texture. Thus, it’s highly versatile and can be enjoyed in a variety of ways; at home, we frequently eat it boiled for a quick and easy side, but it’s also commonly roasted or fried. So, with Thanksgiving right around the corner, why not swap out the traditional bowl of mashed potatoes for something a little more interesting yet just as flavorful and comforting? With powerful punches of garlic sure to awaken the senses amidst buttery, savory yucca, this silky side just might become the star of the show.

Ingredients:

• 1 large yucca root, peeled and chopped
• 4-5 cups bone broth
• 3 large cloves of garlic, roasted and smashed
• 1-2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1-2 tablespoons butter
• ½ teaspoon salt (more to taste)
• ½ teaspoon pepper (more to taste)

Directions:

Start by trimming the ends of the yucca root on a cutting board with a sharp knife. Then, cut it into quarters. It will require a bit of pressure, as it’s a similar experience to cutting a squash. The cross-section should show firm, white flesh. Stand the sections on their cut faces, trim off the skin, and cut off both layers. Once peeled, dice the yucca into small pieces and boil it in bone broth with garlic and salt. Meanwhile, roast the garlic in olive oil for the best flavor results. Once the yucca is boiled, it should be soft and tender for mashing. Mash the yucca as you would a potato. You can do this with a mashing tool, a fork, or a hand mixer for a creamy, whipped texture. Add the butter, garlic, and seasoning to taste as you mash it. Once mashed, add salt and pepper as needed, and top with a garnish of parsley, if desired.

Cover photo courtesy of: https://www.runningtothekitchen.com/

Raspberry Lime Gin, Jam, and Tonic

This recipe came about after a day spent sitting on the beach. Long hours of sunbathing and swimming leave a girl awfully thirsty for a fun cocktail. The drink comes together with a spoon or two of jam, a few squeezes of citrus, and a quick shake with some ice. You likely have these ingredients on hand, and even if you don’t, you’ll be just fine with a bit of improvisation. It’s a gin and tonic with a few bells and whistles; just sweet enough to take the edge off the alcohol but far from cloying. 

Now my loyal go-to, this drink has only four ingredients, and there’s plenty of room for substitution, variation, and creativity. No limes? Grab a lemon. Blackberry preserves instead of raspberry? Just as good. Dress it up with muddled basil or mint, add a splash of grapefruit, rim your glass with sugar and zest. The opportunities are endless. 

While the raspberry-lime iteration might be the best way to rinse salty, sunburnt lips, the upcoming holiday season calls for something a little more festive. I encourage an exercise of your own imagination with this drink, but I will suggest you try cranberry, orange, and rosemary for those late November and December festivities. I know I certainly will. Cheers.

Ingredients:

3 tablespoons raspberry preserves (I like Bonne Maman)

2 limes, juiced and peeled*

4 oz gin

Ice

8 oz tonic water

Directions:

Start with your lime ribbons. Find your longest pieces of lime peel, and trim the long edges with a knife, leaving them with a width of ¼ inch. Cut the shortest ends on a bias, both going in the same direction. Twist each end of the ribbons in opposite directions; they will contract and curl. Set aside.

Add the raspberry preserves, lime juice, and gin to a dry shaker, and shake without ice to build some froth and ensure the jam fully mixes with the other ingredients. Add ice to the shaker, and shake once more until cold.

Add fresh ice to two clean glasses and strain the gin, jam, and lime evenly into each. Top with tonic water and garnish with lime ribbons.

*Note: use a vegetable peeler or pairing knife to get long ribbons of peel from the lime. Don’t worry too much about the shape; the peels will be cut down further.

Cover photo courtesy of Sofia Frias

Reflections on Chinatown, A Year Later

Last year, I wrote a piece about Boston’s Chinatown. A year ago Chinatown was a ghost town, ransacked by the struggles pandemic living brought and beaten down by the bombardment of Asian hate that swarmed the media and the streets. I remember the crowds of old East Asian men huddled around chess tables under Chinese paper lanterns. I remember Cynthia Yee, a blogger and writer dedicated to depicting life on 116 Hudson Street in Boston’s Chinatown. She would greet everyone in Eldo Cake House like a familiar aunty walking into her nieces and nephews home, shouting brave Cantonese as she ordered egg tarts, char siew buns, and Hong Kong style milk tea. Eldo Cake House, a staple Chinatown bakery for 50 years, sits on 36 Harrison Avenue. The milk tea was wonderfully aromatic and cupped nostalgically with one clammy palm, and in the other a tender char siew bun with an aroma that would fill the small bakery of only three wooden tables. When Cynthia strides into the shop, a flurry of Cantonese choruses out of the ladies behind the counter, wearing their signature forest green aprons. I sat there, right in the heart of Eldo Cake House, with Cynthia Yee a year ago, laughing at the jokes about old misogynistic Asian men, shedding a tear about the deterioration of our culture, rallying over the fight to preserve Chinatown. 

But as I returned to Eldo Cake House just last week, I was met with boarded up windows and a meager laminated for-sale sign taped on its front door. 

Although it’s heartening to see Chinatown crowded once again, full of college students looking for their Asian food fix, or families wandering around to enjoy the nice fall weather, seeing the boarded up windows of Eldo Cake House was a gut punch, and a reminder that this neighborhood is changing. 

Eddie was the bakery owner of Eldo Cake House. He had a stern aura to him, the type molded by decades of heads down hard work. When I spoke with him last year, he recalled struggling with the rising cost of living, particularly in rent where he had to sell half the lease to another store in order to keep costs down. “Very hard, hard for everybody,” he said. 

Eldo Cake House had an unassuming exterior. Below the forest green banner are floor to ceiling windows, where you can look into the various pastries, buns, and fruit cakes. Eldo’s cakes were neatly slathered in crisp white cream, with an array of glistening berries arranged on top in floral and elegant patterns, hinting at the moist yellow sponge cake inside with layers of buttercream. But sweets aren’t all this bakery was known for. Those char siew buns were delicately crisp on the outside but pillowy soft in the middle, the pork marinated in this thickened sweet and savory sauce. We ordered two more. 

The story of disappearing beloved businesses like Eldo Cake House isn’t new, and it won’t stop here either. It goes back to a wave of urban renewal in cities across the country throughout the 1950s and 1970s. Cynthia herself is a victim of urban renewal. In 1962, the Massachusetts Turnpike and I-93 highways reaped a seam in the fabric of Chinatown’s homes and communities. Approximately 1,200 residential units were evicted and forced to scatter, most ended up in the Combat Zone. 

“I was evicted – because of the highway! I ended up in the Combat Zone because I was evicted from Hudson Street,” Cynthia said. “And that was a major trauma. My Indian friend who is a young writer said to me, “Dear Cynthia, how will you ever forgive a highway?” I said, “I don’t think I have.” That’s why I write, that’s my revenge.”

The Combat Zone was an area of Boston’s Chinatown characterized as a chaotic red-light district that flourished in the 1970s until it’s cleanup in the 1990s. “It was the end of my childhood,” Cynthia recalled. 

Cynthia lived in a tenant apartment never graced by sunlight. Neon lights of naked girls and live shows flowed through the trash-laden streets. Constant beats of strip club music reverberated through the walls, pierced by wailing sirens through the night. Every morning the granite steps to their house had to be scrubbed from the Combat pleasure seekers roaming the night before. Her story is only one of many iterations of displacement throughout the years. Chinatown isn’t the same village community Cynthia grew up in. 

Although the neighborhood’s population has increased by 43 percent between 2000 and 2010, the Asian population has decreased over 10 percent, and the white population has doubled. The consistent pushing out of Chinatown’s working-class residents is driven by a rapid rise in housing prices. In Boston specifically, Chinatown saw one of the fastest-growing sales prices in 2017, increasing by $285,000. With an average household of $26,280 for Chinatown working-class families, luxury apartments are simply not an option. Even affordable housing projects are unaffordable, as these projects are based on residents making 80 to 100 percent of Boston’s median income, which is much higher than the average in Chinatown. 

With such forces against Chinatown, gentrification not only changes the neighborhood’s demographic, it also disrupts Chinatown’s cultural history. 

I stood in front of the now boarded up Eldo Cake House. I wondered where Eddie went, whether he finally comfortably retired like he always dreamed of, or his business was driven to the ground like so many other local gems throughout the years. I walked a couple blocks down to buy a dozen egg tarts from Bao Bao Bakery, hoping this one won’t suffer the same fate. 

Cover photo courtesy of wgbh

As Unamerican As Apple Pie

There are few things as iconically Americana as apple pie. It’s the centerpiece at Thanksgiving, served up at summer barbecues, and remains the center of various familial debates about whether it should be served on its own or a la mode. Thousands of recipes exist both on the Internet and in the minds of home cooks throughout the nation as to what they constitute as the “World’s Best Apple Pie”, so I am not here to challenge those claims as I do not have the interest in challenging sacred family recipes. What I intend to do is show how the humble apple pie, while steeped in American lore, is much more than simply “All-American.”

When you look at the ingredients for apple pie, it seems relatively simple: a butter-based crust, sugar and spice and everything nice, and the namesake apple. But when one begins to look deeper into how these ingredients became connected, it shows a much more intricate tale of colonialism and international trade. Apple pie in its most basic form can often be traced back to the Dutch and English colonial empires; the Dutch spice trade and later, the British colonization of India and trade with the Ottoman Empire gave Europeans access to the spices and apples that are staples to the recipe.

So why is it “as American as apple pie”, when in fact the components are far from uniquely American? The term was coined in 1796 in the first American cookbook, American Cookery, by Amelia Simmons and has since gone on to become a key symbol in American culture, wartime propaganda, and marketing. At the end of the day, however, the idea that apple pie is created and born in the good old USA is like the fate of so many other components of what is assumed to be “American culture:” it is deeply ingrained in the tradition of colonialism and cultural cover-up to fit into what is considered “American.” So, when you make this recipe for a “traditional American classic.” I implore you to stop and think about the origins of your food. Who knows, maybe it’ll surprise you.

Ingredients:

Pie Dough:

3 ¾ cups All-purpose flour

1 teaspoon kosher salt

2 tablespoons sugar (omit for savory pies)

1 ½ cups unsalted butter, frozen and cut into chunks

1/2 cup water + 1/2 cup vodka, chilled (vodka can be omitted and replaced with water)

Filling:

2 tablespoons lemon juice

4 pounds baking apples (Honey Crisp, Granny Smith, Cortland), cored, peeled and sliced

⅔ cup sugar, plus additional for sprinkling on crust

¼ cup unsalted butter

½ teaspoon ground cinnamon

½ teaspoon all-spice

Pinch of ground nutmeg

1 large egg, beaten

Directions:

For the dough:

1. In a bowl, combine the dry ingredients. Making sure you work quickly, add in your cubed frozen butter and begin to work the butter into the flour mixture. You should have both large flakes of butter as well as smaller chunks, resulting in a very coarse texture.
2. Slowly add the ice water/vodka mixture (you will not need all of it) and mix it into the flour and butter mixture. Add until the dough will hold its form when pressed together. You’ll probably need between around half a cup, but this can vary. If the butter is beginning to soften from heat, place in the freezer for five to ten minutes and then continue mixing.
3. Shape the dough into a rectangle, and then divide into third. Stack them on top of each other and press down into a new rectangle. Repeat cutting them in thirds and stacking one more time.
4. Divide the dough in two and place each half on a separate sheet of plastic wrap. Use the plastic wrap to press each half of the dough together. Wrap each half and press the dough into a disk. Refrigerate your dough for 1 hour or if you’re in a hurry, freeze 20 minutes.

For the filling:

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F
2. Add the lemon juice, apples, and sugar into a large mixing bowl, tossing to combine evenly.
3. In a large skillet, melt the butter over medium-high heat. Add the apples, and cook, stirring, until the sugar dissolves and the mixture begins to simmer. Cover, reduce heat to medium-low, and cook until the apples soften and release most of their juices. Apples should be tender, but still retain their shape.
4. Strain the apples in a colander over a new bowl to catch all the juice. Return the juices to the skillet, along with the spices, and simmer over medium heat until thickened and lightly caramelized. The syrup should coat the back of a spoon and not slide off easily.
5. Return the apples to the large mixing bowl and combine with the syrup mixture evenly. Let cool completely for at least two hours, and up to over-night. The filling can be made up to a week in advance and refrigerated as well.
6. Cut and shape the pie dough to fit into a 9 inch pie plate, as well as a second disk for the top. Fill the bottom of the pie with the apple mixture, mounding it to the center if possible. Place the second pie crust on the top, and crimp or flute edges as desired.
7. Split the pie crust a few times in desired space for venting. Brush the crust with egg wash, and sprinkle with sugar if desired. Place in a preheated oven for 50 minutes, or until the crust is golden brown and the filling is bubbling slightly. Cool on a rack before serving, and enjoy.

Pie crust adapted from Pâte Brisée by Jeremy Scheck
Filling adapted from Food Network Kitchen

Cover photo courtesy of King Arthur Baking

Peruvian Turron de Doña Pepa

October: the month of purple, El Señor de los Milagros, and of course el infaltable “Turrón de Doña Pepa”.

In the mid-seventeenth century, two earthquakes devastated the region of Lima, Perú, crumbling every building in sight except for a single wall built out of adobe. The wall stood tall amongst the ocean of debris, raising a multitude of questions in the local community. 

Why was it that a wall built out of a rather weak material stood, whilst the rest of its building and those surrounding it collapsed completely? 

The wall in question had been built as part of a church for the Pachacamilla community located on the outskirts of Lima, and on it contained the now-famed mural of Crucified Jesus painted by  Angolan slave, Pedro Dalcon. However, this mural homaged a version of Jesus the Spaniards were not used to seeing: a darker version, one that resembled the artist and the community in which the wall stood. Therefore, in the 32-year time period between the two earthquakes, there were many failed attempts to remove the mural that Spanish authorities had thought neglected religious norms. 

It was a miracle, the people of Pachacamilla thought, that this single wall was the only structure to survive the two catastrophic earthquakes that struck their region whilst simultaneously evading removal by Spanish authorities. And so the news of the phenomenon spread across all of Perú like wildfire. Peruvians everywhere indeed deemed it to be a miracle, one performed by none other than the deity in the mural, el Cristo de Pachacamilla, better known as “El Señor de Los Milagros”. 

The Pachacamilla community held ceremonies in tribute to The Lord of Miracles every Friday ever since the second earthquake struck on October 20th, 1687. People from all regions of Perú would travel to Pachacamilla to gift Him flowers and all sorts of offerings to pray for a miracle. Amongst the usual attendees, stood doña Josefa Marmanillo, a slave from the Cañete region in the south of Perú.  

Doña Josefa Marmanillo was an extremely highly regarded cook within her community, when suddenly she was afflicted by a puzzling disease that is the worst nightmare of cooks everywhere: paralysis in both of her arms. 

Devastated, Doña Josefa Marmanillo, otherwise known as Doña Pepa, made her way to Pachacamilla, where she prayed to El Señor de los Milagros. It was then, during the month of October, that Doña Pepa instantly regained the mobility of both her arms. Out of immense gratitude for granting her wish, she decided to make good use of the miracle and craft a new dessert devoted to the Lord of the Miracles – and so, el Turrón de Doña Pepa was born. A buttery and crumbly yet moist crumb covered in a deep complex honey with hints of anise seed and on top lay her staple sprinkles of all shapes and sizes. 

Thankful, Doña Pepa would return to visit the Lord of the Miracles every Friday night, bringing batches of her famous Turrón to share with the local community. Soon after that, her dessert had become a local staple and has now transformed into a treat Peruvian households impatiently await to enjoy as soon as the clock strikes twelve on the first of October. 

Ingredients:

Dough

1 tablespoon sesame seeds

1 tablespoon anise seeds

500 grams all-purpose flour

250 grams butter 

5 egg yolks

½ cup anise tea

½ teaspoon salt

Honey

2 cups water 

2 cinnamon sticks 

3 cloves 

1 apple (diced)

1 orange (cut in half with peel)

250 grams Chancaca

1 fig leaf

10 gram fresh strawberries (diced)

2 Membrillos (diced)

1 cup sugar

Assembly

Sprinkles

Parchment paper

Sheet pan

22×22 centimeter casserole serving dish

Directions:

Dough

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F 
2. Toast the sesame and anise seeds on the stovetop on medium-low for 2 minutes
3. Beat the butter until fluffy and add the toasted sesame and anise seeds
4. Gradually fold the all-purpose flour into the butter mixture until fully incorporated
5. Add a pinch of salt and incorporate the egg yolks one at a time
6. Slowly add the anise tea while mixing the dough. The dough should not stick to your hands and should be manageable.
7. Divide the dough into 22-gram pieces and roll them into 25-centimeter-long logs
8. Place parchment paper on the oven pan and start placing the logs in the sheet pan
9. With a spatula, slightly flatten the logs
10. Cook the dough in the preheated oven for 15 minutes (flip the dough after the first 10 minutes)
11. Remove dough from the oven and put aside

Honey

1. In a pot, pour the water and add the cinnamon sticks, cloves, membrillo, apple, orange, fig leaf, strawberries, and chancaca. Let cook on medium low for 25 minutes.
2. Strain the mixture and transfer to a new pot
3. Add the sugar and let reduce on medium-low for 30 minutes
4. Turn off the heat and let the honey mixture cool. It should reach a stretchy caramel consistency. 

Assembly:

1. Add parchment paper to the bottom of the serving dish
2. Place the logs of baked dough in the same direction across the serving dish. Should the logs of baked dough be longer than the serving dish, break off the ends
3. Add a layer of honey
4. Place another layer of dough logs in the perpendicular direction
5. Add another layer of honey
6. Repeat until you run out of dough
7. Finish with a substantial layer of honey on top
8. Add decorative sprinkles
9. Let honey settle before serving

Cover photo courtesy of Vital

Our PopCorners

What is your favorite snack in your college dorm? In ours, it’s definitely Sea Salt PopCorners. 

It exists in so many different forms in the common room. After grocery shopping, you will see a bunch of them leaning against each other on the top of the refrigerator. Sometimes, when four of us sit around the table and our computers form a perfect square, the green plastic wrapping will sit straight at the center of it. Hands reach for it occasionally for help against midnight hunger, and the green little thing eventually becomes too weak, failing to stay straight on the table.

And the cruel people would make it sit up again, putting their hands in for more and more.

It is so addictive—the tastelessness at the beginning gradually turns to the aroma of corn, diffusing in the mouth. It is crunchy but not delicate, tasty but not greasy, salty but not pungent. It never feels abrupt, like a beautiful box of macarons sitting gently, which somehow keeps people from touching it. With its plainness like water, it flows in our life naturally. Facing those bumpy and dry little triangles, we never hesitate. We love it so much that it feels valuable, but there is never a sense of loss when a pack is finished.

We even have a photo album to collect pictures of every empty bag. We proudly show it to everyone who comes over, and open a new package for our guests. We pass that around until a new record has been broken—the total empty package number reaches 19 instead of 18. It makes relationships so approachable. We take one PopCorner from this bag and pass it around, creating a simple ritual that breeds the urge to connect. 

Maybe it started with only one of us, or it could be some of us, but in the end we all love it. I do not even remember how this started—maybe it was one of those nights when we cuddled on the chairs around the kitchen table, one person asking for some snacks, and it was excitingly introduced. 

But I could never forget the Saturday night when a group of friends sat around the small end table in the living room, the string light gently omitting orange light on the wall, Taylor Swift’s country music videos projecting on the walls under the dim light. We were playing card games—some leaned back on the sofa, some comfortably sat cross-legged, some leaned forward, concentrating, and some laughed and clapped their hands. 

One round came to an end, and we opened a package of PopCorners and passed it around. One of us took one piece of the chip out and said, 

“You know what, appreciate its name. It tastes like popcorn and it has corners. PopCorners! So cute.”

He stared at it, “It has 4 corners.”

“Nah…It has 3 corners—this is a broken one.”

But it does not actually matter how many corners it has, honestly, with all the warmth flowing in the air at 2:00 am. 

Because when you bite one corner, two new ones would emerge. 

The more the better.

Cover Photo Courtesy of: https://snackswithkat.com/pop-corners-chips-review/