Good Feeling, Won't You Stay With Me Just a Little Longer?

No recipe or nothin', just wanted to hold onto a good feeling. One that included potatoes roasted in duck fat.

And a pork loin glazed with citrus marmalade.

I sat at the kitchen table finishing all the potatoes that I had to eat, because they just wouldn't be good the next day. (Or so was my excuse.) Redolent of the meal I had cooked the duck in, smelling of carrots and ginger, I mopped up the oil and salt with each bit—the outside crunching while the insides burst forth in well-cooked potato-y softness. I put on a good album that always loosens my shoulders. I was drinking some nice red wine that warmed my innards. I started reading a short story by Don Delillo that I had been holding onto for a while and the beginning made me smile--two college pals walking the train tracks pondering what they thought to be philosophical quandaries. Earlier, I had stepped out onto the porch, cold and wickedly windy, to see the moon stark and white in the deep blue winter sky. It was strikingly and fiercely beautiful.

All of this was humming inside me so I had to stop and write it down. I love moments--how numerous subtle influences crescendo into a palpable feeling that washes over you, all senses reeling. Or maybe not reeling--maybe soaking, or sensing, or quietly formulating, to create a code, a scent, a thread, a little story that feels like a great, old coat. So right that you almost regret taking it off. But a meal has to end, for the next one to come, now, doesn't it?

Turkey in Mole Sauce

We had a nice lunch yesterday that did not involve jelly. I couldn't resist this Dona Maria Mole at the supermarket the other day. I love this kind of stuff. I get lost in the international aisle all the time. The ingredients weren't awful; there were only six of them and they were all real foods that I could pronounce, as per Michael Pollan's new book, Food Rules. (I like that he's stopped preaching to the choir and is trying to influence everybody. Good luck! Sincerely!) So I felt it was okay. I've been craving mole and am too lazy to make it myself. One day. But for now, I elect to be lazy. I don't think I could ever come up with what I'm craving--my mole experiences are from Oaxaca, and well, once you have that good stuff, you will never be able to accept anything else. One can pretend, though, can't one?

You basically slide this paste out of the glass jar (which I'll keep, thank you, very cute!) with four cups of stock, alongside your already seared turkey breast. Cover and put in the oven at 325 for about an hour. Then serve with piping hot tortillas, farmer's cheese, and a red cabbage salad tossed with parsley and a vinaigrette.

Plum Ginger Cake with Lemon Vanilla Jelly Glaze

Reading the posts from the last few days paints a picture that somehow I subsist on a diet of jelly. Which is probably not so far from the truth in relation to other folks, but I do eat healthy meals consisting on brown rice and legumes and meat and vegetables. Really! But winter beckons with its snowy claw and so I'm forced (forced!) to stay inside and create sweet concoctions. That's the view from the kitchen. Just yesterday it was all green and muddy. Sigh. I know, it's still January!! Leave winter be!

A much needed ray of sunshine: Lemon Vanilla Jelly. I did a small batch with some leftover apple extraction from the Tangelo Lemongrass Jelly I made for month one of the Tigress' Can Jam (follow link on sidebar for more on that). I didn't have any half-pint jars left, so I used a pint jar. My yield was a pint jar, sealed, and a half-pint in the fridge. A pint jar of jelly is an absurd thing. That's a lot of jelly, people.

1 cup of apple pectin extraction (see linked recipe above for directions)

1 cup of fresh squeezed lemon juice

2 cups of sugar

1/3 of a vanilla bean pod, scraped

Combine all in a pan and bring to boil. Boil until jell point is reached, 220 degrees, about ten to fifteen minutes. This one jelled up quick! Can and seal, process for fifteen minutes. (I would do ten minutes for half-pints.)

It tastes tart and lemony, not too sweet, a delicate but firm set, and a hint of vanilla wafting through. Great tart glaze, I'll bet. And so...

So, what? So: I made this little cake based on my quick Lime Curd Cake recipe, but subbed plum ginger preserves in for the curd. The preserves were from this summer, rosy pink, tart and spicy, made from local Santa Rosa plums and Stayman Winesap apples. I glazed the cake with a spoonful of jelly heated and turned to syrup.

I was going to dust it with confectioner's sugar, but it was too pretty to cover with snow. There's enough of it outside!

Fig Lemon and Fennel Jam

I've had some dried organic mission figs I bought on sale from the health food store that have been patiently waiting while I got swept away with all this citrus. I didn't forget about them, I just knew how patient they could be, sitting there, all wrinkly in a jar, quiet, thoughtful. I saw a great recipe for dried figs from Consider the Pantry that I will make one day, probably with Calmyrna figs. In describing the jam she mentions the taste of Fig Newtons. That sounds just blessed to me. I was also completely smitten with The Laundry's Can Jam entry, Lemon, Fig and Lavander Marmalade. It had me swooning. I was there.

But then I was twiddling through the Joy of Cooking and in the fruit section there was a little gem called Fig Compote with Lemon and Ginger. I had everything on hand. All the right amounts. Of course, I had to change a few things. And it came out heavenly. It perfumed the house. Not too sweet due to the lemon which candies, ever so slightly vanillin, and the fennel just takes it back from being completely dessert-y. It is close to a compote because I left half of the figs whole and the rest are split so those nice little seeds squoosh out. The syrup they float in is thick. I am planning on getting some incredible vanilla ice cream today so I can put a dollop on top. But it's definitely an eat-from-the-jar kind of thing.

Fig Lemon Fennel Jam

1 pound of dried figs, stems removed

3 cups of water

1 lemon, zest only, in strips

1 tablespoon of fennel seeds

1/3 vanilla bean pod, seeds scraped

Simmer until figs are plumped. About thirty minutes.

Add:

1 cup of sugar

2 tablespoons of lemon juice

Simmer for another thirty minutes or so until the syrup reaches your desired consistency. If you want, split half the figs with a flat edged utensil. Process for ten minutes.

NOTE: The original recipe does not water bath it. It is meant for immediate consumption, and will sit in the fridge for a month. However, I am a wild kind of soul and decided it was okay to can. (I felt it was similar enough to a few recipes that the acid was okay. I also raised the sugar.) However, I only made enough for me and will be the only one consuming it. There was no testing involved. So can this at your own risk.

It was miserable outside when I made this and the power went out just as I was finishing up. So I canned by candlelight. Very romantic.

Mixed Citrus Marmalade

Please make the spring come early this year. Please? It's been so cold, and we had a crummy summer, so I really think we deserve it. Why is it still only January, for crying out loud??

Okay, sorry about that. I should shut up because today it was almost sixty degrees out. But you couldn't really tell with the torrential rain and gale force winds out there. But, I will say this: all the snow is gone! Now it's some dull green and loads of mud, which I am happy to see. I'll get sick of it in a bit and wish for some snow to cover it all up, but for now, I'm nearly (dis)content.

This is what forced me to be a crazy lady and make some marmalade. I saw a bag of mixed citrus on sale for 99 cents (isn't it funny how keyboards don't have the cents sign anymore? Is it now some ancient heiroglyph that only oldsters like me can understand it?). So I turned it into this very delicious marmalade using a recipe for tangerine marmalade from one of my favorite blogs, Doris and Jilly Cook. Simple, to the point, great technique and the yield was huge. Love that.

My added tip in the hat? Or tip of the hat? Whatever. Anyways, you know how you can use the food processor for chopping up your citrus saving you loads of time? I love that. But, and this might be obvious for some, but for me it was a revelation: you can use your slicer attachment to thinly slice the fruit up. Instead of the pebbly rind you get with the chopper blades, you get nice thin perfect shreds. Just remember to refrigerate your fruit over night before hand, so they slice up nice.

Here's a crappy picture to illustrate my revelation: