In New England, Indian Pudding is as essential a part of Thanksgiving dinner as Pumpkin or Squash Pie.

It's called "Indian" because it is made with corn (maize) meal - the staple food of North American Indians.

Simple rustic ingredients. No sugar? You use molasses. No flour? You use corn meal. The only trick is to make sure it is neither too firm nor too runny. Serve warm.

Here's a bit of the history of this dessert, with a good recipe.

Re-posted and revised, from 2007

It's time to review mincemeat pies. I just bought a bottle of decent French brandy for the purpose.

Regular readers know that the history and the making of mince pies is a favorite winter hobby down at Maggie's Farm. They were once banned in Boston. Made with lard, of course, and preferably venison (I am using local venison shank this year), well-aged with brandy.

Favorite mincemeat pie quote: "Dad, what's a mince?"

Here's a photo one of ours from last Christmastime. I used cranberries in it along with raisins and currants. Serve warm, with vanilla ice cream or hard sauce.

The Englishman recently posted his favorite recipe. It must be well-aged, weeks or a month, but it will work fine with a couple of weeks of aging.

I am in the middle of Conroy's new book, South of Broad, which is set in Charleston.

Being a Yankee, I had no idea what Benne Wafers were. Here's the recipe.

It's nice to know that there are still places in America where ladies routinely have teatime with homemade tea cookies. It is civilized and civilizing, like so many old Southern habits.

Regarding other low-country foods, She-Crab Soup is fine and dandy, but this summer I discovered how much I enjoy Shrimp 'n Grits (and I don't even love shrimp. I like it with the smaller shrimp).

This is my idea of a fine dressing for Mr. Turkey: Foie gras, apple and chestnut.

I have baked some quail with foie gras stuffing (damn good), but never turkey. Time to do it.

I may do a side of oyster stuffing and a side of the foie gras stuffing, but fill the bird itself with the expected chestnut, sausage and cornbread stuffing. Or maybe not.

Anyhow, I have to cook two, so I'll do one on the grill, unstuffed of course.

Our occasional contributor Kondratiev posted this recipe as a comment the other day:

Cooked this one last night using venison backstrap (loin):

Seared Venison Steaks with Baked Pear and Red Wine
Serves: 6

Ingredients
3 bosc pears (1/2 each)
1 small cinnamon stick, broken
5 black peppercorns
½ bottle red wine
1 tablespoon sugar
3 tablespoons olive oil
6 trimmed 6 oz. venison steaks
Salt and ground black pepper
1 shallot, finely diced
1 tablespoon red currant jelly
2 oz. butter, plus extra for greasing

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Butter an ovenproof dish. Peel, core and halve the pears. Arrange snugly in the dish, hollow side up. Tuck in the cinnamon and peppercorns, then pour in half the wine. Sprinkle with sugar and dot with butter. Crumple up and wet a sheet of greaseproof paper, then lay it over the dish before covering with foil. Seal tightly and bake for 1 1/2 hours, or until the pears are tender. Turn the pears after the first hour. Keep warm. You will need their liquid for the sauce.

2. Pour the oil into a non-stick frying pan and set over a high heat. Season the steaks and fry for 2-3 minutes on each side for medium-rare. Remove the steaks and keep warm. Reduce the heat and gently fry the shallot before adding all the wine, including that with the pears. Boil vigorously, scraping the pan as you do so, until it has reduced by half. Microwave the jelly and, once it has melted, then stir it in, remove the pan from the heat and quickly whisk in the 2 oz. butter. Strain into a warm sauceboat and serve immediately with venison and warm pears.

I haven't thought about this old-timey Yankee diner dessert for many years, but someone brought it up the other day, and I am now hungry for one.

As I recall, the last time I had a slice of one was at a diner with my grandfather. Cannot think about the pie without remembering that polo- and poker-playing, shootin', fishin' slacker gramps of mine, who preferred shopping for horses, and dealing in sailboats and Elco yachts (leaving his real business to others) to regular work - and who died way too young of a series of MIs, at 63.

Boston Cream Pie is Yankee-simple, unfashionable, unsophisticated, and darn tasty, and it's a cake, not a pie, with potent if short-lasting anti-depressant properties.

You can make it yourself if you can't find it in stores. Easy to do.

Every once in a while I get a hankering for a good rare steak. My preference is for Ribeyes (sauteed rare in butter, at max heat, with red peppers) and grilled T-bones.

The best T-bone I think I have ever had was in the steakhouse on the ship last month. Grilled perfectly, of course: burnt on the outside but still trying to walk away on the inside. The chef told us it was a Sterling Silver steak.

I can recommend their meat to you (and I have eaten in plenty of the great NYC steakhouses).

Saddest thing is that I couldn't eat the whole thing. It's a thick steak, full of tasty fat. I have deliberately shunk my stomach by eating small to try to avoid the middle-aged fat thing.

The good Balsamic Vinegar comes from Modena (home of Ferrari, Maserati, and Lamborghini), where they have been making it for a thousand years.

It's called "balsamic" because it was thought to be a good balsam, or balm, for pain and disease. Our North American Balsam Fir was thought to be good for diseases too. The Romans viewed vinegar as a balm and a medicine - hence the Roman soldier kindly offering Jesus vinegar on the cross.

They make it from boiled-down Trebbiano grape juice. Balsamic Vinegar is not a wine vinegar.

The aging process seems to be key. As the volume shrinks over time and the vinegar becomes more syrupy, it is moved into smaller and smaller wood casks made of different woods until ready. Juniper is the final cask. 15 and 25 year-old Italian Balsamic Vinegars are readily available, and there are 100 year-old ones. The 15 year-old one in the photo is $70/bottle. Unlike a bottle of wine of that price, however, you only have to use a few drops at a time.

Northern Italians would never touch our supermarket stuff, nor would any really good American restaurant. But if a Chef isn't a food snob, you might as well eat at home.

The old story Marcella Hazan relates is about the old Northern Italian guy who ran down to the cellar when the Americans began bombing. Then he remembered, and ran up to the room where his small casks of very old Balsamic were stored and rushed them down to the cellar. Then he realized that he had forgotten one more thing: His wife.

Ever tried a good Balsamic on strawberries? It's a classic dessert. It's equally good on fresh fig halves with a touch of honey or sugar. Just make sure you use the good stuff.

Candied mint leaves. I made a bunch of these old-fashioned treats last weekend.

Since my mint patch (Kentucky Mint, of course) has grown like crazy, it's fun to thin it out while making a fine treat. If you like mint flavor, these are great to decorate ice cream, fruit cup, a bowl of berries, melon, or whatever. In the old days, they were passed around as an after-dinner mint: the original "mint".

All you do is cut off some mint leaves (or tips of stems -even better), brush them with well-beaten egg white, press them into granulated sugar, and let them dry for 6-24 hours on wax or parchment paper. They will last a couple of days. When they dry enough, they are a bit crunchy.

Delicious. You can do the same thing with violet flowers in the springtime.

Students of Italian cooking know that you do not put sauce on top of pasta. You put the pasta into the sauce in the saucepan, and stir to lightly coat and warm up the pasta. And any casual student also knows that you should never serve that bright red, heartburn American "marinara" crap on anything (except in Napoli). That stuff, which we Americans all eat sometimes, is only really fit for pizza topping (but I eat it too if there's nothing else around. That's why God made Tums.). In Rome, I am reminded, 2/3 of pizzas have no tomato sauce.

My favorite Italian foods have no tomato sauce anywhere near them.

Furthermore, a pasta is only il primi. Pasta is not an Italian meal - but it can be a stand-alone snack. My favorite pasta snack is a Puttanesca (Whore's Sauce) - or maybe it's pasta with the Magic Italian Triad: sauteed chopped garlic in oil, and a lot of chopped fresh Italian parsley on top - plus plenty of salt and pepper. (I only use spaghettini - or angel-hair pasta for watery sauces. I hate the regular thick spaghetti, but that might just be me.) I don't object to a white clam sauce either, if it's made with fresh Cape Cod clams and angel hair pasta.

When it comes to tomatos and sauce, I had two such things in Italy this summer: an al tomate sauce with fish in Capri (small halved fresh tomatoes in a light oil, herb, wine and butter sauce, with some capers), and an excellent Bolognese sauce at a restaurant in the high hills outside Lucca.

(Another secret to Italian cooking is that you serve separate courses. They never serve a plate with veggies, meat, pasta, etc. It's all separate, so you can taste it and appreciate the flavors - and so the cook can make each thing special, including a salad course like the spinach sauteed with garlic and oil and a bit of chopped pancetta.)

Thus I lied when I said we never touched a pasta in Italy. I don't know how I forgot about the fine lunch at Fattoria Villa Maionchi up in the hills outside Lucca (they have a few rooms to rent, too). This farmhouse restaurant made a wonderful Bolognese for which the close recipe is below the fold. The entrance to the place had appreciative signed photos of every famous Italian opera star you can imagine, including Pavarotti and Scotto.

They make their own wines and their own olive oil from their own vineyards and orchards on the farm. Here's the entrance to the place:

Recipe and more photos below -

I like sitting in European cafes, sipping a cafe or a beer, maybe having a smoke, and watching the world go by. I also like running around trying to see everything noteworthy, but as I get older I appreciate just soaking up the atmosphere and the feel of a place.

I have seen, and prayed in, more medieval cathedrals than my brain can ever absorb, and I do not do shopping.

A re-post from our archives -

The Bird Dog family enjoys providing coffee hour at church. It's a gratifying ministry because it promotes fellowship. The more goodies you provide, the more fellowship you nurture, and the longer folks stick around and get to know eachother.

If a church is a manifestation of the living body of Christ, you can't have loose body parts all over the place: a congregation needs to congregate, in small groups and in large. Other churches in the area have copied our tradition of providing more than coffee and a pitiful bowl of goldfish crackers. We do brunch, essentially. Here is what we brought today:

Bagels and cream cheese; red and white grapes; plain pound cake, sesame pound cake, walnut pound cake; Vermont cheddar, brie, and Roquefort cheese and crackers; blanched carrots, broccoli, sugar snap peas and string beans with blue cheese dip; strawberries with sugar to dip them into (no matter how many you bring, they will disappear fast - the kids go for them like piranhas); cheese "Danish" pastries, tortilla chips with that excellent Costco salsa and Costco guacamole; corn muffins, chocolate chip muffins and blueberry muffins; croissants. Coffee, cider, and orange juice. I forgot to bring the sliced red peppers for the vegetable dip, and forgot the strawberry jam for the corn muffins.

I was surprised by how the blue cheese disappeared first today, and I brought a huge hunk. We don't bring doughnuts anymore because the little kids stuff themselves with them and the fussy parents don't seem thrilled with that. Next time, I think we'll bring a spiral-cut ham with honey mustard, and slice up a mountain of baguettes. This would be good with a ton of sliced melons. (Too bad we don't do wine and beer too - people would never go home.)

Few summer drinks are more refreshing than the Cape Codder.

I think it tastes best with a little lime squeezed into it, like this recipe. (Come to think if it, most things taste better with a little fresh lime.)

Try a Cape Codder today.

My mixology research revealed that the Cape Codder is one of a family of cocktails known as "New England Highballs." I didn't know drinks had formal categories. I am still learning about the world.

I had an appetizer plate of top-flight local Gorgonzola Dolce Gran Riserva in Italy last summer, up north in Piedmont where they make the stuff.

It had little in common with the supermarket stuff we get here in the USA. It was creamy, not crumbly, and it was tasty as heck but without any sharpness. It was not meant to be thrown in a salad or on top of a burger, but to be eaten reverently (or irreverently) with a fork in thin slices, with some slices of fruit on the side. Which I did.

It was expensive, too.

Fried Squash Blossoms are a wonderful summertime Italian treat. I harvested this platterful of them last night and we fried 'em up. When served hot, and lightly browned and salted, they leave French Fries in the dust.

On summer squash like Zucchini and Yellow Squash, the blossoms on the stalks are the males, and thus expendable. However, I use both because there's always too much squash anyway.

This site explains how simple this is, using Marcella's method. We do not wash them at all, just check them for bugs inside. Photo below from that site -

The weather is finally (just barely) warm enough for smokin' season.

I have had a gigantic, fat-covered pork shoulder in this thing for a few hours, covered with my good tasty stuff pork smoking rub.

With the cool breezes today - still waiting for real summer - it will take quite a few hours more until it is fork-tender.

This cheapo electric smoker never quite gets hot enough. My big smoker-grill is great, but I only have time to tend it on weekends.

The smell of the meaty, peppery, fatty smoke from the fresh pear tree chunks is at least half of the pleasure.

The Shrimp and Grits I had on Saturday in Alabama were served hot in large Martini glasses with a tiny silver spoon. It was something new to me. Like a dessert. The shrimp and sauce were spooned on top of the grits.

I detected a faint hint of cilantro and lime in the shrimp sauce, but I do not have the recipe. The shrimp were sweet as sugar, fresh from the Gulf, and bite-sized - about an inch long. I do prefer the tender little ones to the big ones for most purposes.

I learned the below from this site (which includes one of the countless recipes for this treat)

In the Low Country of South Carolina and particularly Charleston, shrimp and grits has been considered a basic breakfast for coastal fishermen and families for decades during the shrimp season (May through December). Simply called 'breakfast shrimp," the dish consisted of a pot of grits with shrimp cooked in a little bacon grease or butter. During the past decade, this dish has been dressed up and taken out on the town to the fanciest restaurants. Not just for breakfast anymore, it is also served for brunch, lunch, and dinner.

Prof. B. explains why reds should be on ice a bit before serving, especially in the summer - assuming the bottles are not coming from your underground or temperature-controlled wine cellar. 55-62 degrees F, max. That's not "room temperature" - except today, here.

I think The Prof is absolutely right, but I had never thought it through. No good wine tastes good at 85 degrees. Hot grape juice (my Dad calls wine "grape juice" even if it's his '81 Petrus. "A little more grape juice?" he offers when he pours) doesn't taste good either.

Same thing applies to old Ports, I think.

Disagree? Let me know.

Of course I remember.

AVI wants some help remembering old 'Gansett commercials.

'Gansett, Knickerbocker, Rheingold, Piel's - I do recall them all. We are now just left with watery old Rolling Rock and the delicious Ballantine Ale - if you can find it.

The Maggie's Farm cafeteria refuses to serve fancy beers for breakfast or lunch, because beer ain't sposta be fancy (good stuff like Guiness is different - it's a meal, not a beer - and even more so if you stir one or two raw eggs into a pint for breakfast like they do in Ireland).

Wine is another matter.

A fun theory says modern humans are all about the home-cooked meal.

Make mine barbecued short ribs with sides of cheese grits and cucumber slaw, and a few Rolling Rocks.

Kind of cool. (h/t, Ace). I would like to see more.

Many of those lunches look darn good, but the crap the American kids seem to want looks disgusting. Anyway, if I ate lunches like these I'd be asleep for two hours afterwards. An apple is about all I can handle if I have things to do.

Photo is a school lunch in China. Looks good to me - especially that fried fish.

Terrific stuff. Cheap, too. We have had Crab Cake recipe wars here recently, but here are some more simple recipes. I put no flavorings in the cakes, because I like the main taste to be the tender, succulent, subtle crabmeat, which is why my favorite food in the world is sauteed soft-shelled crab.

Except maybe Halibut with capers, or Shad Roe with bacon, or Bluefin Tuna belly just seared on the grill, or rare roast beef with horseradish and Yorkshire pudding, or Shepherd's Pie, or barbecued short ribs with cornbread, or Chicken Pot Pie, or black bean soup with jalapenos and mashed potatoes, or plain mashed potatoes, or a real Gumbo made by my Louisiana pal, or a Woodcock dumpling with gibier sauce, black truffle, and Porcini mushrooms, or ...

Thanks, COSTCO. Good stuff, but I only needed 2 cups. Now what do I do with the rest?

It's Shad Season now in the Northeast. Many of us welcome this brief season when the Shad migrate from the ocean up the rivers to lay and fertilize the eggs, with the females filled with delicious Shad roe.

If you drive over the Hudson River, the Connecticut or Housatonic bridges, you will see the fishermen's nets spread out right now.

The roe, cooked with bacon, is as good as food gets. Do not overcook it - it is Shad caviar. But the meat of the Atlantic Shad (a large herring, I believe) is underestimated. It requires an expert Shad boner (ok, ok) which makes it expensive, but it's as tasty a fish as exists. The Shad is full of crazy bones.

It's a brief season for Shad, and there are Shad Festivals all over, such as this one.

 Photo is Shad roe. My Mom loves it, and so do I.

When I was a kid, my babysitter would take me fishing for Blue Crabs off the dock. What it required was a string with a hunk of bacon tied to the end. When you gently pulled it up to just below the surface, you needed a crab net to scoop up the crabs clinging to the bacon. Otherwise, they would let go of the bacon.

My Mom was never disappointed to find a bucket of two dozen crabs when she got home.

We have posted, somewhat disparagingly, about the Blue Crab's natural history and the Blue Crab as dining material, (too much effort, basically) but we never have disparaged good Maryland crab cakes, especially when consumed in volume with volumes of bad beer in low-life Maryland tatoo pubs with dogs walking around, after a day of duck hunting.

The subject comes up because we noticed projects about the aquaculture of Blue Crabs. Very cool. Fresh water? Who would have thought it?

Here's how they raise them from broodstock.

What a clever country we are. Speaking of clever people, Sippican sends this recipe:

CRAB CAKES
            1/2 stick (1/4 cup) unsalted butter, melted and cooled
            4 large eggs, beaten lightly
            6 tablespoons sour cream
            1/4 cup minced fresh parsley leaves (preferably flat-leafed)
            2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
            1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
            1 teaspoon paprika
            1/2 teaspoon salt, or to taste
            1/4 teaspoon cayenne, or to taste
            2 pounds lump crab meat, picked over
            2 cups fine fresh bread crumbs
            1/3 cup cornmeal
            1/2 cup vegetable oil

            tarragon tartar sauce as an accompaniment
            lemon wedges as an accompaniment

            In a bowl whisk together the butter, the eggs, the sour cream, the pa rsley, the
            lemon juice, the Worcestershire sauce, the paprika, the salt, and the cayenne and
            stir in the crab meat and the bread crumbs gently. Form 1/2-cup measures of the
            mixture into twelve 3/4-inch-thick cakes and transfer the crab cakes as they are
            formed to a baking sheet sprinkled with half the cornmeal. Sprinkle the crab
            cakes with the remaining cornmeal and chill them, covered with plastic wrap, for
            at least 1 hour or overnight.

            In a large heavy skillet heat the oil over moderately high heat until it is hot but
            not smoking and in it sauté the crab cakes in batches, turning them once, for 3 to
            4 minutes on each side, or until they are golden, transferring them as they are
            cooked to paper towels to drain. Keep the crab cakes warm on another baking
            sheet in a 200°F. oven. Serve the crab cakes with the tarragon tartar sauce and
            the lemon wedges.
            Makes about 12 crab cakes, serving 6.

I'd skip the bread crumbs. They dilute the crab meat.

I happen to be one of those people who love that Irish boiled dinner, with lots of potatoes in there. You just cook the heck out of it, for hours, until it all falls apart. Lots of whole peppercorns in the pot.

The carrots are optional, in my view - and the cabbage is the best part.

A pot of mustard on one side, and a pot of beer on the other side. Great peasant eats.

This weekend, I plan to use this pot roast recipe with a venison rump I have in the freezer. I wonder how it would work for shoulder too. I have one of those in the freezer. No, two shoulders.

There's always a navarin like this for the shoulder meat.

A re-post from 2007 -

The post about Beantown food yesterday, with the link to Sissy Willis' baked bean recipe, put me to thinking about some of my favorite fall and winter foods. I guess spending yesterday afternoon getting a couple of loads of firewood with a friend's truck helped.

Johnnycakes, or Cornmeal pancakes, or these. You can do them with or without flour in the mix. I like to add a can of canned or frozen corn to the batter: it's one of the very few valid uses of canned corn.

(In fact, corn is a nice addition to regular pancake batter too. Give it a try. Of course, cranberries are great in pancakes. Their tartness adds a lot of zip to a dull pancake.)

Indian Pudding. It's what was called "Hasty Pudding," but made with corn meal, and cooked slowly - never hastily. A little ice cream or drizzled heavy cream on top.

Why is Boston called Beantown? It's because of the triangular trade. Here's a Durgin-Park recipe. Really good with black bread. Heck, I even like baked beans from the can. Our reader reminds us that, in the old days, beans or peas in the pot were termed "Pease Porridge."

I'll do Yankee apple desserts in another post.

From our archives:

Cassoulet

I am thinking of making a game cassoulet for Christmas Eve supper, for after church. As you may know, cassoulet is basically French baked beans, with meat. It is country home cookin, but it can be great.

Any meat, but not beef or venison - red meat is too strong for cassoulet. We have, over time, used duck, snow goose, chukar, chicken, pork, and pheasant. Mix the meats - it only adds to the flavor. Always some venison sausage, or any sausage, because it is a traditional ingredient. The meat-to-bean ration is supposed to be fairly high - 30%- but I like beans and prefer a lower ratio. I think every village in southern France has its own recipe and method.

A couple of things about cassoulet: 1. Make it the day before. Like beef stew, it improves overnight. 2. Serve with salad, garlic bread, and a pile of stinky cheeses and fruit for dessert. And always a Cote Roti. 3. You need to use large white beans, preferably French haricot beans. They should be intact - not mush. 4. Make sure you push the breadcrumbs down into the mixture during baking. 5. Sprinkle chopped parsley on top when done - it looks better.

It's worth reading a few approaches to get the general idea. Here's an easy American version. Here's one French version. Here's another.

Can you identify these wild ducks? Gwynnie cooked these for me and Mrs. BD for dinner last night, on the grill. (Do not say Huey, Dewey and Louie) With Cumberland Sauce. (Answer below the fold)

Yesterday was our neighborhood First Annual Deep-Fry Your Turkey Day. We did 9 smallish turkeys, 2 ducks, three chickens. We cranked it up right after church. It was cold enough that we had trouble getting the peanut oil above 320, so it took longer than we planned. All the neighbors got well-fed last night, and all dogs enjoyed the venison butchering scraps. It was reminiscent of a barn-raising.

Why go to the trouble of setting up a fryer just for oneself? We served tons of beer, and venison-black bean soup and cornbread. And cupcakes. And ceegars. Red-neck Yankees know how to have fun. Next time, we'll do two pots of oil, not one, to halve the time - but we did not expect such a response for a last-minute plan. All dogs were invited, too, of course.

One bucket of birds in brine:

Our fryer set-up. The basket insert works best for the turkeys, but chickens and ducks don't need it and can just go on the stick.

Our Louisiana-style rub and bird-injection table. The green stuff is sauteed, pureed, then strained garlic, shallot, onion, carrot, and celery for injecting.

We cranked up one of these in the driveway to keep warm. Worked well, as long as it didn't set you afire.

 We set it all up like this. Readers have seen that old fire engine before.

We also had the last doe of the season to butcher as the birds were frying. She'd been hanging for a couple of weeks, but probably frozen through most of the time. Note Golden chewing on the hide. That always happens. A pal is just beginning the skinning. I brought home a foreleg with the hair for my pup to play with. Yes, that is an old fireplace in the 1890 garage, so the gentry would not have to get into a cold car. For the comfort of the chauffeur no doubt, too.

That's how one of my LI ducks came out of the fryer:

How is the turkey after all of this effort - overnight brining, injecting, Cajun rubs, etc.? Tastes like turkey, but pretty good turkey. The skin is especially good. In future, I think I'll do ducks and chickens, but not turkey - things with a higher skin/meat ratio.

I brought a venison shoulder home, too, from that doe in the garage. I think I'll braise it with root vegetables when the turkey is eaten.

What a fine country we Americans live in. We are not convinced that the Obamanites know how to appreciate it. A good life is a simple matter.

Suffolk Rabbit Pie. Yum. A tasty Medieval dinner. My supermarket has frozen rabbit. (But I thought Rabbit Joints aka rabbet joints were a cabinetmaking deal.) I guess they mean thigh and leg. I assume you remove the bones before putting it in the pie, but they aren't clear on that.

Rabbit with Garlic. Wow.

A few of my pals and I were splitting firewood this morning (giant 3' wide logs from the trunk of an old Ash tree - with tons of knots), and rambled onto the topic of deep-fat turkey frying. We decided to do a First Annual Bird Fry tomorrow after church. Nobody really wants to crank up a fryer just one one item, plus only one of us owns the gizmo.

We're going to do smaller turkeys, and also ducks and chickens, and will drink a bit of beer in the process. It's a nice neighborhood I live in.

I am brining my birds now with a cider and OJ recipe.

I don't know what Mayor Bloomberg is having for dinner. Maybe tofu salad with a glass of water. But if you have any pheasants in the freezer, this sounds good:

Pheasant supremes with sage and onion fritters, caramelised apples and Calvados sauce

Cold, snowy day up here. It makes you want mashed potatoes and meat and stuff.

I have some nice big white onions left over from making my onion pies this weekend. Some onion fritters would be good with last night's left-over steak. It's really sort of like a spidery mess of onion rings.

I never bother with the deep oil frying, though, for fritters. I just fry them in some canola oil, and it works fine. Best if you sautee the onions lightly first (with some chopped garlic) before mixing the onions with the batter. That way, they are certain to be sweet.

It's nice to have some little dipping sauce for them. A chili-garlic-soy sort of thing with chopped chives is good. Lime, as pictured, is interesting too.

Some call it Red Flannel Hash. With two eggs sunny-side up on top, and some ketchup or some hot sauce, it can't be beat for a winter breakfast.

This recipe is good, if a bit too complicated. Here's a simpler Southern version, with gravy of course (in the South, they even put gravy on top of gravy).

I don't mind the canned version at all, fried first in butter. Yes, it smells (and looks) a bit like canned dog food, but I am part dog.