OK: Exquisite might be a bit much. [...]]]>
What ho! Is that a chocolate torte? Why, no! It’s a persimmon pudding, a rare and exquisite dessert rarely seen outside of West Virginia, Kentucky, Southern Indiana, and Southern Illinois. Native persimmons don’t travel well, so you’re unlikely to encounter a persimmon pudding far from where the fruit grows.

OK: Exquisite might be a bit much. But it is my absolute favorite holiday dessert—and if you’re from the Ohio Valley, chances are, it’s yours, too. My story is pretty much the same as everyone else’s. My grandmother made a killer persimmon pudding from trees on her and her neighbors’ property. When she died, I ended up with her persimmon pudding pan, but somehow my pudding never quite turned out right. For several years in a row, I dutifully mixed up persimmon pulp (courtesy of my mother and trees near my folks’ farm), eggs, sugar, and various canned milk products, but instead of persimmon pudding I got persimmon glop. And nasty glop at that.

Enough’s enough, I decided. You can be loyal to a taste memory without being loyal to the recipe. Which is how I ended up at PersimmonPudding.com, a wonderfully earnest site dedicated to—you guessed it—all things persimmon. Never before have I seen almost two dozen persimmon pudding recipes assembled in one place. Most of these are community-cookbook style recipes, heavy on the sugar and evaporated milk. Look carefully at the bottom of the list, though, and you’ll notice an oddity: a recipe from Deborah Madison. Yes, that Deborah Madison, she of Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone, right there alongside the Indiana Nut Growers’ Association and “relatives of Grandma Bertha.” Who knows what on earth she’s doing there, but it’s a fine recipe with just your basic ingredients: butter, persimmons, sugar, eggs, vanilla, milk, salt, flour, and baking soda (skip the cinnamon).

But just to make it interesting, I tried cooking this in the pressure cooker instead of either the oven, which was fully occupied with a Hanukkah turkey (don’t ask), or on the stove top (Madison’s recommendation, which I had never heard of). I had read somewhere that you could make steamed puddings and custards in the pressure cooker, and was anxious to give it a try. IT WAS BRILLIANT. Steaming a pudding in the pressure cooker solves many problems. Your pudding is guaranteed to cook evenly; you don’t have to worry about oven tetris; and it’s faster and uses less energy than stovetop cooking. I’m trying to convince my mom to try this this year for Christmas, though it will mean that we’ll have a bowl-shaped pudding instead of the round-pan version that’s traditional in our house. Whether she decides to take this route or not, I’m just thrilled that I have finally made a persimmon pudding worth sharing with my friends.

Deborah Madison’s Steamed Persimmon Pudding, adapted for the Pressure Cooker

1/2 cup butter
1 c. native persimmon puree (do not use Asian persimmons—see note)
1 c. sugar
1 egg
1 t. vanilla
1/2 c. milk
1/2 t. salt
1 c. flour
2 t. baking soda

1) First, confirm that you’re working with native persimmon pulp. Chances are, it will be frozen, but it will look something like this:

2) Melt the butter. Take some of it and very generously grease the insides of a pudding mold or bowl. I used a Bundt pan, but any heat-proof bowl that fits inside a pressure cooker will work:

3) Mix the wet ingredients in one bowl and the dry ingredients in another. Gently stir the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients. Pour the batter into the bowl or mold.

4) Place a steamer rack inside your pressure cooker, and pour in 2 c. of water. Tightly cover the mold or bowl with foil, and place it on top of the rack, like this:

5) Lock the pressure cooker lid, but don’t apply the pressure regulator. Turn up the heat and let steam escape through the steam vent for 15 minutes. CAREFULLY place the regulator on the vent. If you have an adjustable pressure regulator, use 10 pounds; if not, 15 pounds is fine. Bring to pressure and cook 35 minutes (for 10 pounds) or 15 minutes (15 pounds). When the pressure has dropped of its own accord, remove the lid and foil and test for doneness. A knife inserted in the pudding should come out clean.

6) Invert the pudding onto a serving dish and serve with generous dollops of whipped cream.

A note on ingredients: Don’t fret if you don’t have access to a native persimmon tree. The good folks at persimmonpudding.com have provided a list of markets that sell pulp, including some vendors who do mail order. Some of the recipes at persimmonpudding.com also include adaptations for using Asian persimmons, but I haven’t tried them. If you’ve successfully made one with Asian persimmons, can you please tell us how it turned out?

She was in town as part of her book tour for The Essential New York Times Cookbook: Classic Recipes for a New Century, and, through a long sequence of events involving Kate Payne [...]]]> Amanda Hesser arrived at my house last night wearing a giant fur hat and Chuck Taylors. How can you not love this woman?

She was in town as part of her book tour for The Essential New York Times Cookbook: Classic Recipes for a New Century, and, through a long sequence of events involving Kate Payne of The Hip Girl’s Guide to Homemaking and Marisa McClellan from Food in Jars, Marisa and I were hosting a meet-the-author blogger potluck. At my house. Now, the next time someone approaches you about the possibility of hosting a food-related event for a well-known food writer that involves her cooking in your kitchen, think very carefully about your relationship with cleanliness and cat hair. It turns out that my standards go way, way, up in those circumstances—I don’t think I’ve ever spent so much time with vacuum attachments. But eventually, it was time to put the vacuum away, take a deep breath, and wait for the guests to arrive.

And they did! And they brought delicious food, all based on recipes (or receipts, if you prefer the 19th-century spelling) that appeared in the New York Times, including three versions of pimento cheese and two cheese straws. We also had a cheese ball, courtesy of Madame Fromage, and an eye-opening fancy mac-and-cheese with radicchio from No Counterspace. Apparently people really like cheese. I made a venison stew, adapted for the pressure cooker (instructions below). Marisa made a spectacular broiled lemon and spinach salad that I really, really hope she blogs about. The desserts were mighty fine, too. For her demo, Amanda made heavenly hots, a sort of cross between pancakes and cheese latkes.

And there’s even a video, courtesy of the Daily News, for those of you who couldn’t join us:

In short: a good time was had by all. And yes, I’d do it again in a heartbeat, even if it does mean cleaning my house. Also: the book is a gem and would make a great Christmas gift. And I’m not just saying that because Amanda Hesser liked my rhubarb liqueur. Cheers.

Venison Stew with Butternut Squash and Hominy

This recipe appears as “Border Town Hunter’s Stew” on p. 571 of The Essential New York Times Cookbook. The ingredients are the same (though I’m not sure how I feel about that cinnamon stick), but I’ve adapted it for the pressure cooker. You never know what you’re getting with wild venison (in this case, courtesy of Jilly’s husband), so I prefer to cook it in the pressure cooker to ensure tenderness.

3 lbs. venison stew meat, cut into 1″ cubes
Salt and pepper
2 T olive oil
2 medium onions, chopped
2 poblano peppers, chopped
6 cloves garlic, minced
1 medium butternut squash, peeled and cubed
3 T. New Mexico chili powder, or to taste
4 t. dried oregano (or about 1 T fresh)
2 bay leaves
1 cinnamon stick (eh. consider it optional)
1 12-oz bottle of dark beer (I used Yuengling Black and Tan)
4 c. chicken broth
Two 15 1/2 oz. cans white hominy, drained and rinsed

1. Season the meat with salt and pepper. Let sit 30 minutes. Meanwhile, chop your vegetables.

2. Pretend that your pressure cooker is a giant skillet and heat up the oil. Sear the meat in batches, removing to a separate bowl when done.

3. You should have some oil left in the pot, but if not, add more. Saute the onions and chiles, with maybe a dash more salt. Add the garlic and saute a few minutes more. Add the chili powder, oregano (if using dried), cinnamon stick, and bay leaves and saute a minute more. Add the beer and scrape up all the tasty bits.

4. Add the meat and the stock to the pot and stir everything together. Put on and lock the lid. Cook at 15 pounds of pressure for 12 minutes. Quick-release the pressure using whatever method is recommended by your manufacturer (I run the pot under cold water). Add the squash. Bring back up to pressure and cook another 3 minutes. Let the pressure drop of its own accord, or, if you’re in a hurry, quick release.

5. The stew will now be quite juicy and need to be reduced. Add in the hominy and bring to a boil (note that at this point you’re using your pressure cooker like a pot again, not a pressure cooker). Boil rapidly for about 20 minutes until it’s quite thick, stirring occasionally to prevent scorching. If using fresh herbs, add just before serving.

Notes: Try to find natural hominy, not the cheap stuff made with lye. I only used one can, and that seemed like plenty. This works very well as a pantry dish: the venison and the peppers came from the freezer; the squash and onions from the root cellar; and the oregano from the front yard. I also used ground dehydrated peppers instead of commercial chili powder.

Q. I made a beef stew in a 350°F oven. That’s hotter than a water bath, so why can’t I just can the stew as is? Why [...]]]> Ask the Goats is a (mostly) weekly feature in which we, the goats, attempt to answer your food preservation questions. Got a question? Drop us a line at dorisandjilly@gmail.com.

Q. I made a beef stew in a 350°F oven. That’s hotter than a water bath, so why can’t I just can the stew as is? Why do I need a pressure canner?—anon (to me, anyway) via Kaela at Local Kitchen

A. This is a great question, just at that point where common sense bumps up against the laws of physics. We say, over and over again, that the heat of a water-bath canner is not sufficient to kill off the kinds of nasties (botulism, I’m looking at you) that can live in low-acid, anerobic environments (i.e., beef stew). But, obviously, a 350°F oven is much hotter than the 212°F of boiling water. So, what’s the problem?

The problem has to do with what’s inside the stew pot. When an oven thermometer reads 350°F, that means that the air temperature is 350°F. Your stew, on the other hand, is going to be hovering at its boiling point. This is a consequence of what’s called the Phase Change Law, which says (more or less), that a substance will maintain the temperature at which it changes phase until the phase change is complete. Water melts at 32°F, and it boils at 212°F. If you put a pot of boiling water in the oven, it’s not going to get above 212°F until all of the water has turned to steam. Then, and only then, can the temperature start increasing.

Now, in beef stew, you’ve got a liquid that, depending on what it has in it (water, wine, stock, etc.) is boiling probably somewhere between 190°F and 212°F. But you’ve also got solids that are probably at a lower temperature. Think of what happens when you put a large roast in the oven. You might cook it for hours, and it might still be at 150°F. All of which is to say that your beef stew is nowhere near 240°F.

But how does the pressure canner do it? Well, when I said that a substance that’s changing phase will maintain an even temperature, that’s not quite true. It will maintain an even temperature under conditions of constant volume and pressure. Crank up the pressure, and the temperature goes up. And hence, safe canning conditions for low acid foods.

Want more canning advice? Check out the liveblogging stream from the panel on canning, preserving, and foraging that I participated in with Marisa from Food in Jars, Hank from Hunter Angler Gardener Cook, and Sean from Punk Domestics at last weekend’s BlogHerFood conference in San Francisco. I had a blast, and I hope those in attendance found it as informative as I did entertaining.

Q. Hi. I am not new to canning. But something happened this year that has never happened before. [...]]]> Ask the Goats is a weekly series in which we attempt to answer your questions about growing, making, eating, and preserving food. Got a question for the goats? Drop us a line at dorisandjilly@gmail.com.

Q. Hi. I am not new to canning. But something happened this year that has never happened before. I canned 16 quarts of vegetable soup. I used the water bath method and processed them for 1 hour. I checked the seals and they were good. One week later the lids started pinging. What went wrong? That was an awful lot of work to throw away. I am very disgusted. P.S. My salsa, peach preserves, strawberry jam are all sealed and delicious.—Mary

A. Alas, Mary, vegetable broth is a low-acid food, and therefore not safe for water-bath canning. For the purposes of canning, all foods are either high-acid or low-acid foods. The kinds of food-born pathogens that can live in a high-acid environment can be killed fairly easily with moderate heat, so you can process them in a boiling water bath. Low-acid foods, on the other hand, can harbor botulism spores that are not destroyed at 212°F. Low-acid foods must be processed in a steam pressure canner that can reach much higher temperatures (usually 240ºF).

Remember, only fruits (excluding tomatoes, figs, green mangoes, and white peaches) and certain kinds of fermented pickles are acidic enough for water-bath canning without adding acid. For everything else, you have to either acid—sometimes in substantial quantities—or use a pressure canner.

Pressure can vegetable stock just as you would chicken stock (for step-by-step directions, click here). The Ball Blue Book recommends 35 minutes for quarts at 10 pounds pressure. If you don’t have a pressure canner, you’ve got to freeze it.

In happier news, the winner of the Put ‘Em Up! giveaway is Amanda Nelson, who’s new to canning and expecting twins! I think your strategy to put up as many nibble-ables as possible is an excellent strategy.

The most important thing to consider when you’re canning is whether your item is a high-acid or low-acid food. Most food-born pathogens, including yeasts, molds, and most bacteria, can be killed at 212°F. [...]]]>
Yes, yes, yes, I know. The tomato can jam entries should be posted next week, not this. Consider this post a safety intervention.

The most important thing to consider when you’re canning is whether your item is a high-acid or low-acid food. Most food-born pathogens, including yeasts, molds, and most bacteria, can be killed at 212°F. Botulism, on the other hand, that nasty, invisible, food-borne pathogen we’ve all heard so much about, can survive up to somewhere around 238°F. (It’s actually the spores that can survive, but never mind that). But because botulism can’t grow in a high-acid environment, you can still can high-acid foods in a water-bath canner that will never get about 212°F. For low-acid foods, you need the additional heat of a pressure canner, which can take you up to 240°F at 10 pounds of pressure at sea-level. Let me repeat: you can’t get botulism from high-acid foods.

With me so far? Good.

Here’s the thing. Tomatoes aren’t quite a high-acid food. They’re borderline. Older varieties, many heirloom varieties, and most of the varieties that you’re likely to grow at home, frequently are. Newer varieties—particularly the kinds of tomatoes that you tend to find in grocery stores—aren’t necessarily acidic enough. It’s therefore recommended that you add 1 T of lemon juice per pint jar, or 2 T per quart jar, of tomatoes to make them safe for water-bath canning. If you don’t like lemony tomatoes, you can always pressure can them.

Which brings us back to sauce. I’ve seen many, many recipes over the years that say that you can can tomato sauce in a water-bath canner. Many of these are in reputable books that I trust, like Anna Thomas’s The New Vegetarian Epicure. But let’s think about this for a minute. Here you are, taking tomatoes, already a low-acid food. You’re adding olive oil, probably some onions, maybe some garlic, and a handful of herbs. All of these things are low-acid foods. With each one, you’re raising the pH (lowering the acidity) of your product. The more experienced I get in my own canning, the more and more queasy I am about all the people who are going to excitedly put up jars and jars of tomato sauce in a water-bath canner this summer.

The Ball Blue Book does include a version of tomato sauce safe for water-bath canning, but it contains 1 T lemon juice per pint jar and a processing time of 35 minutes (for pints). I can only conclude that if you’re not adding something more acidic than tomatoes (like lemon juice or vinegar) to your sauce, it’s probably not safe for water-bath canning, and certainly not at the 20 minutes usually recommended in non-canning cookbooks. Ergo, you might want to try pressure canning it.

Here’s one version of a meatless tomato sauce appropriate for pressure canning, using the processing times recommended by the National Center for Home Food Preservation.

Canned Tomato Sauce

10 pounds tomatoes, peeled, cored and roughly chopped
1 large onion, chopped
6 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 c. olive oil
A big handful of basil—about a cup or so—chopped
Salt to taste (I use about 1 T kosher)

1) Heat the oil is a large, wide stockpot. The wider the stockpot, the faster your sauce will cook. Sauté the onions and the garlic in the oil until they’re translucent.

2) Add the remaining ingredients and bring to a rapid boil. Turn the heat down to medium and cook until the sauce has reduced by about half. This may take several hours, depending on your stove and your pot. If you want, you can run the sauce through a food mill at some point, but I find that if you cook it long enough, the tomatoes break down on their own.

3) Meanwhile, prepare 4 to 6 pint jars (and maybe a half-pint just in case) and an equal number of lids. Transfer the hot sauce to clean jars and adjust two-piece lids. Process pints for 20 minutes, quarts for 25 minutes at 10 pounds pressure in a steam-pressure canner.

For step-by-step instructions on pressure-canning, please see this post. Please note: I find I get a better seal, and am less likely to lose the contents of my jars, if I wait a long, long time after the pressure’s dropped before opening the lid. Like, hours.