Lobster Newburg and Lemon Meringue Pie

Readers, if you have The Gourmet Cookbook and you also frequent Epicurious, you'll notice that the recipe for Lobster Newburg on the Epicurious site is slightly different from the one in the cookbook.

Go with the one on Epicurious.

I don't know what they were thinking when they modified this recipe (which they say has stood the test of time?!) (which is exactly what they say in the head note to the Epicurious recipe!)

The problem with the recipe in the book is that the sauce is too thin. You end up basically with lobstery cream coating your lobster and mushrooms. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but if you know how it's supposed to be, it's a disappointment. I never did serve this again as Newburg--I drained the cream the next day and made lobster salad for sandwiches, and the day after that I took the remaining lobster salad and added it to haddock chowder. That's recycling, folks.

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I'm going to make a confession. Another one. Souffles don't scare me. Flambes don't scare me (anymore). You want to know what scares me, culinarily speaking? Lemon meringue pie.



Lemon meringue pies are notoriously tricky to bake. All kinds of things can go wrong with them, but the most common causes for tears are beading on the top of the meringue, and weeping underneath it. I've only made one once before, when I was the head chef at As You Like It. I used the recipe from Joy of Cooking, and as I recall it came out pretty well, though I was a nervous wreck about it.

So when I offered Dr. and Mrs. S. their choice of a few desserts and Dr. S. picked Lemon Meringue Pie I was ready to take on the challenge in spite of the possibility of disaster.

Now, if you're getting nervous because I used the word "disaster", I'll just tell you up front that the pie tasted great.

But if you're wondering why I might have used the word "disaster", it's because of this: I drained enough liquid off of that pie, after it was baked, to almost fill a cup measure. Fortunately, somehow and for some reason, the pie crust stayed crispy. This is some kind of miracle that I can only attribute to my earnestness and hard work in the kitchen.

There are two aspects to baking these pies that you have to watch out for. The first is the temperature thing--everything has to be hot when you spread the meringue on top. The crust needs to be just out of the oven (or re-warmed), the lemon filling ideally should be piping hot--and that way the meringue is cooking somewhat on the bottom as it's cooking on the top.

The second aspect to watch out for is the meringue itself. The sugar has to be thoroughly beaten in, and the whites can't be too dry (or too wet). Stiff peaks is what you're after, and actually mine never did form even though I beat the heck out of those egg whites. Maybe that's where I went wrong, or maybe it's because the filling was merely warm instead of hot.

So my meringue pie was lemony with a soft meringue on top, good but I can't help thinking there's a better one in me somewhere.

Watch this space--I'll circle back around to this sometime.

Date Walnut Rugelach and Gratineed Chicken and Vegetables in Cream Sauce

If I had had a balloon over my head showing my inner thoughts while I was in the process of making Date Walnut Rugelach, it would have looked like this:



If I had had a balloon showing my inner thoughts while I was in the process of tasting the rugelach after they had cooled, it would have looked like this:



Clearly, this is a recipe that is to be made only once a year.

And it is, actually, a traditional Hanukkah recipe, which is why I made it even though nobody at work celebrates that particular holiday except M.'s husband E. (who won't be around til Christmas anyway). They rank on the pain-in-the-ass scale up there with Peanut Butter Bon Bons (my family's traditional Christmas goody).

Here is why Date Walnut Rugelach will make you emit hearts too: the dates melt somewhat during the baking, and in the little spots where they leak out of the dough wrapper, they caramelize and become chewy. Mmmm, heaven.

Production note: the book directs you to brush the pastry rounds with melted apricot jam before rolling them up--the recipe on Epicurious doesn't. Also, in searching for an image of rugelach to put here, I notice that hardly anybody tucks the outer ends of the roll under--this would make production slightly easier. Anyway, here's a lovely photo from Milk and Cookies\.



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Gratineed Chicken in Cream Sauce is a very tasty, comforting fall/winter dish for chicken. My only problem with this dish was that I didn't read it all the way through and so was expecting a casserole.

It isn't--it's pan-seared chicken parts with vegetables in a cream sauce--the pan is sprinkled heavily with Gruyere at the end and finished under a broiler until it's all melted and bubbly.

If you love classic French food, you will really love this and should give it a whirl. If you are not a sauce person (incredible, but they're out there) or are watching your fat intake then steer clear.

This photo by Romulo Yanes doesn't really show all the lovely cheese and sauce to its best advantage, but it will give you an idea...

Fricos and Sole Goujonettes with Paprika Salt

"Huh?" I hear you say..."What the heck is a goujonette?"

This, my dear friends, is a fine example of how menu writers get you to pay more money when you go out to eat. I bet you wouldn't consider $28 excessive for "sole goujonettes", but would you pay that amount for "fish sticks"? Because that's basically what these are.

The Gourmet Cookbook explains to us that goujon is French for "gudgeon", which is a slender little fish found in Europe somewhere. This word has been appropriated to describe any strip of fish that is deep-fried. It would be as if we called fish sticks "anchovyettes", or "sardinettes".

OK, now granted sole IS an expensive fish. So if you were eating fried sole strips you could expect to pay more than if you were eating something slightly less expensive, like pollack (which is the fish you're eating at McDonald's and in the cafeteria.)

All this aside, Sole Goujonettes with Paprika Salt is fine way to fry fish--it's not too far actually from the Italian Fried Salt Cod posted below except that you use seltzer to mix up the batter. The one thing I don't understand is why on earth anybody would put salt on the side for "dipping". There is salt in the batter already, and you are directed to salt the fried fish once they come out of the oil--why would you want more if it's properly seasoned? This is where you want contrasting flavor-- malt vinegar, lemons or tarter sauce, or even ketchup if you must.

The recipe on Epicurious mentions only paprika for the salt--sweet paprika I mean, but the book suggests smoked paprika, and I did use that. I wasn't sure about it--it seemed an overwhelming flavor but when it was all said and done I actually didn't detect the smokiness in the fish. So don't go out of your way to get smoked paprika for this dish, is my point.

Here's another nice picture by Romulo Yanes:



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Fricos are one of those ridiculously easy recipes that make you look good. It's just grated parm, flour and pepper, baked on a sil-pat for ten minutes. If you don't have a sil-pat pan liner, ask Santa for a couple--they can be found at places like Bed, Bath and Beyond. They are amazingly handy when it comes to stuff like this--actually, there are some recipes that can be baked successfully ONLY on sil-pats.

Here's a picture:



I had a moment of confusion when I was baking these, because I remembered making them at Yanks and draping them over a rolling pin to get a nice shape. These did not drape--they were very stiff. I also remembered the sous at the Emerson just sprinkling grated parm in a non-stick frying pan to make these...yes, there are two ways to make them. If you want stiff crackers, go with the cheese + flour recipe. If you want to make a curvy shape or a cone, or a cup to put some kind of filling in, just sprinkle grated parm in a pan and let it melt and turn golden.

Here's a picture of that:



This is a great technique that should be part of any foodie's repertoire. Try one of these on top of a caesar salad and you'll get oohs and aahs. I promise.

Chicken Tetrazzini and Pecan Tart

Actually, I mean Turkey Tetrazzini. Yes, like most of you, I was trying to figure out what the heck to do with all that leftover turkey, aside from the obligatory soup and sandwiches.

The first time I had turkey tetrazzini was at Yanks, when the sous chef was trying to figure out the same thing. We used to have staff meals (so civilized!) and he baked a gigantic hotel pan of the stuff, which is basically a noodle casserole held together with a cheesy white sauce, with turkey (or chicken), and veg of your choice thrown in. He used peas, as I recall. Ah, comfort food!

I knew Dr. and Mrs. S. would go for the idea if I put it like this: "a casserole with some pasta and a sherry cream sauce with mushrooms". They love anything that involves sherry, so it was a green light.

When you look at the recipe on Epicurious you'll see that there's a lot of stock making etc.--you can do all that but if you are dealing with leftovers you really just need the poultry meat and stock from some source. If you can make it, fine, if not nobody will notice if you use canned. All you need it for is the cream sauce and there's a lot of other stuff going on there.

The thing that was the most fun about this dish was the way they have you assemble it. You're supposed to toss half the sauce with the pasta, and put it in a casserole dish. Then make a well in the pasta, and put the rest of your sauce + the poultry in the middle. Sprinkle the whole thing with parm reg and bake in the oven until golden. I don't know why that tickles me so much, but it does--kind of like making Toad in the Hole for breakfast.

Dr. S. really loved this dish but Mrs. S. picked out the turkey and the mushrooms and left the pasta behind. I enjoyed it very much, partly because it was unexpectedly peppery--the recipe calls for 1 tsp. of pepper which really livens it up.

Note: Epicurious provides three recipes for tretrazzini--the one I gave you the link to above is the closest to what is in the book. But there are some differences--no truffle butter, a lot more pepper, more parm, and slightly more sherry.

Here is a nice picture taken by Romulo Yanes. Mine definitely looked more "baked", but this will give you an idea.



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I have come to the conclusion that I have to get a tape measure for the kitchen at work. I am just really lousy at estimating length and width. And who can remember how wide things are? I ordered a bunch of tart pans and when I bake I always just use the biggest one.

Why am I kvetching about this? It will come clear in a moment.

The Pecan Tart recipe is a winner, because it eliminates the thing I dislike about pecan pies--namely, the gooey, overly sweet filling the pecans are suspended in. So the tart recipe basically flattens it out, and you get crispness everywhere--in the tart shell, in the toasted crunchy pecans, and it's all bound just ever so slightly by caramelized filling.

Here's where my measurement problems come into play--the recipe calls for a 10-inch tart pan, so I pull out my biggest one. Which only holds half the filling. Hmmm, I'm thinking to myself, this must not be quite ten inches, and I remember that my springform pan is. Which is much bigger. And if I had been really thinking I would have made the tart in the springform pan instead.

So we have a lovely tart at work and I had to throw half the filling away (actually I drank some of it with some pecans thrown in, can you believe it? I do the same thing with pumpkin pie filling.) All I can say is it's probably a good thing I'm not a carpenter or a seamstress.

Oh, and here is yet another recipe that calls for caramel making. If there is a food theme that runs through this book, it's freshly made caramel, and every recipe seems to approach it from a different angle. This one is the dry-stirring technique, which I've had trouble with before, but this time I was smart and let some of the sugar melt before I got involved stirring it all around, which makes big, messy clumps that stick to your fork.

Here's a photo of somebody else's pecan tart, but it looks pretty close. Mine might have been even a little thinner. Doesn't it look tasty?

Italian Fried Salt Cod and Creamy Vinaigrette

Salt cod is so mysterious, isn't it? In New England it's in those wooden boxes you sometimes find, stacked close to the smoked salmon and the fake crab. What do you do with it?

I am embarrassed to tell you, readers, that the first time I encountered salt cod, early in my twenties (and well before I had embarked on any adventuresome cooking) my husband and I figured that salt cod was something akin to beef jerky or pemmican. So we bought a box and commenced to nibbling on it.

If you've ever worked with salt cod you are gagging by now. Gregg and I concluded that it was just too salty (after a few game bites) and tossed it out, mighty puzzled. Don't forget, this was when the internet was in its earliest stages--no instant clarification possible. And it never occurred to me to actually ask anybody!

But salt cod is a huge part of many cuisines all over the world, because in the old days that's how fish was shipped. Fish yards would spread fish out over wooden, slatted tables called "stages" and salt them heavily, and they would turn as tough as old boot leather. Then we shipped it everywhere, but especially down to the islands that were raising sugar cane. Why? Because they used slave labor, and slaves needed protein to work well, and salt cod was the cheapest form of protein there was. If you want to know what happened next, the sugar cane went to make molasses, which went to make rum, and voila--you've got the Triangle Trade.

How do I know all this? I used to own a walking tour business. I also like to drink rum, but that's beside the point.

The internet is well entrenched, we've got tons of cookbooks available, so you would think that recipes for salt cod would abound, right?

Not so much. You're pretty much going to find brandade, which is cod mashed potatoes, cod-tomato casseroles, and fish cakes.

Fortunately, The Gourmet Cookbook has another recipe that I found appealing: Italian Fried Salt Cod.

Here's a picture that a Mr. Jung took:



Mine looked just like this, without the nice wine glass.

I was interested in the batter--most batters that go in hot oil are some variation of flour, egg wash and flour again (or bread crumbs). This was kind of like a tempura batter, and it puffed up really nicely. Amazingly, I had to salt the fried fish sticks to get the right taste--I oversoaked my cod a bit and had to bring it up to speed.

This, by the way, is another good piece of advice I got from this recipe--taste your cod throughout the soaking process. You want it to be "pleasantly salty" and that takes anywhere from one to three days. Of course I read that after I had soaked the cod.

And here's a tip from me: if you're cooking for small numbers, don't feel like you have to soak the whole box of cod. Just take a piece out and leave the rest--it will keep almost forever. I foolishly and enthusiastically soaked all the cod and ended up throwing some away because I just couldn't use it quickly enough.

Dr. and Mrs. S. loved this dish. I gave it to them for lunch along with some squash soup--a nice flavor balance to the fish. I loved it too--I did plenty of "quality control" tasting, believe me.

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Every time I make salad dressing, I am amazed at how much better it is than the bottled stuff. So I'll diligently make salad dressing for a few months...but then it gets busy, and I'll go back to Ken's, or Annie's, or whatever.

I'm just coming off a "bottled" phase, and I picked Creamy Vinaigrette as my next dressing. Epicurious does not carry this recipe, but if you've ever made your own mayonnaise it's the same idea--egg yolk in the blender along with some vinegar, mustard and shallot, then olive oil in a slow, steady stream.

The result is a thick, tangy dressing that would make a brilliant substitute for Broccoli Sauce (new readers, this is the mayo/lemon juice sauce my mom used to use to get us kids to eat broccoli) except that Broccoli Sauce is a million times easier to make. Still, if you're feeling even somewhat ambitious and are about to serve any kind of salad or green vegetable to a crowd, try this one out. The bottled stuff can't even begin to compare.

Carmelized Oranges and Bulgur and Lentil Salad with Tarragon and Walnuts

Carmelized Oranges does not appear on Epicurious, and I'll tell you why. Because somebody thought of it in the middle of the night, wrote it out, thought it sounded good, and stuck it in the cookbook.

That's the only conclusion I can come up with, because this recipe makes no sense whatsoever.

Sauteeing orange slices in butter "until they turn golden brown"? Adding half a cup of orange juice to a quarter cup freshly cooked caramel to make a sauce?

First, when heat is applied to oranges, they fall apart. The only way you're going to get them golden brown is by dipping them in batter and deep frying them.

Second, I wouldn't exactly call orange juice a "sauce", no matter how much caramel flavor you've got in there.

This is not to say it didn't taste good. Dr. S. LOVED it with vanilla ice cream, and I poured some of that orange juice in my ginger tea and thought it tasted mighty fine.

But come on, Editors of Gourmet Cookbook!! Didn't anybody screen these recipes?

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What do you cook for your family after a week of feasting and merrymaking? Bulgur and Lentil Salad with Tarragon and Walnuts, of course!

This is not to say I wasn't a little apprehensive about this recipe. In spite (or perhaps because) of my twelve years as a vegetarian, I'm a little spooky when it comes to recipes that call for things like bulgur.

I was worried for nothing. This recipe is a winner and our Sea Meadow vegetarians will be enjoying too it at some point--maybe at Christmas, maybe next summer. What makes it great is the vinegar and the walnuts--they add a layer of refinement that takes it beyond those slodgy, chewy, whole grain salads of yesteryear.

I must confess I didn't make it exactly as printed, since tarragon for some reason was nowhere to be found the day after Thanksgiving. I used sage, sliced it into ribbons and mixed it in with the bulgur while it was cooking to get the raw off.

I still gained a pound and a half this week, so watch this space for more recipes that will have a hopefully slimming effect.

Inside-Out German Chocolate Cake and Pumpkin Cheesecake with Bourbon Sour Cream Topping

Want to impress a crowd? Bring them Inside-Out German Chocolate Cake.



This has to be the most spectacular cake I've ever made, and people just flipped over it. For chocolate lovers, it's heaven on earth. Even my son, who says he disdains coconut, adored this cake, and I'll tell you why--the coconut is toasted, which really changes both the flavor and the texture. Or maybe he was just overwhelmed by all the chocolate and it could have been covering gravel for all he cared.

It's a bit complicated to make and requires a lot of attendance, what with the toasting of coconut and pecans, the three cake layers, the baked sweetened condensed milk...but if you've got a half a day to spare it's an extremely rewarding baking project.

One tip I picked up from the Epicurious site on the reader review page--instead of baking the milk in the oven in a water bath, boil an unopened can in a pot on the stove for two hours and you'll get the same effect (which is dulce de leche). I would suggest going that route since the other way is a bit of a pain.

My other Thanksgiving dessert contribution was Pumpkin Cheesecake with Bourbon Sour Cream Topping. I made this cheesecake Wednesday morning, and readers, I'm embarrassed to say that I submitted to diet fear-thinking and substitued light dairy products for this whole dessert. Usually when I'm trying a Gourmet Cookbook recipe for the first time I make it as written so I can honestly evaluate it. Now note that I didn't say I used fat-free. You might as well just bring some carrot and celery sticks than do that.

Anyway, this cheesecake was the particular favorite of a few guests who aren't chocolate fiends, and O'Malley claims he liked this better than the German Chocolate Cake too (even though he swore loudly and vociferously that he hated pumpkin on Tuesday).

My sole difficulty with the cheesecake was plating it--we have no cake-sized platters in our house and when I tried to get it on a dinner plate I made a crater-shaped cheesecake. I ended up transfering it back to the base of the spring-form pan so it could be nice and flat.

Here is a photo of the two desserts before their voyage to the party. I have to confess I've become addicted to the food-styled photos I've been posting from Epicurious and other places on the web so this one seems very plain-spun! We'll work on our celebrity food shots soon.

Garlic Bread, Tomato Sauce and Black Forest Cake

People, this Garlic Bread rocks the house. There is nothing, and I mean nothing that compares with biting into greasy, soft, garlicky bread that is hot out of the oven. The only modification the book had over this recipe on Epicurious is the addition of a little salt, which you grind up the garlic with. You know how you do that, right? By smooshing the salt and garlic together with the flat of your chef's knife? The salt helps to break down the garlic so you get a nice paste and no unpleasant chunks to get stuck between your teeth.



And it's just the thing, of course, to to with Tomato Sauce. The Gourmet Cookbook offers a number of sauce recipes; this one is a winter sauce that uses canned whole tomatoes, onions, garlic and dried oregano. Simple, and really tasty.

Why the Italian meal? I hear you ask. Not my typical MO. Well, when I was discussing with Dr. and Mrs. S. what might be an appropriate pre-Thanksgiving day dinner, I said I thought something light might be good, to make a little room for the feasting.

"How about spaghetti?" Dr. S. asked? God love him.

I rearranged the menu and gave them spaghetti (capellini, actually), garlic bread and salad for lunch, and mushroom soup for dinner.

Now folks, I am not really so much of a pasta cook. So when I went to boil the capellini, I figured for six people, two pounds of pasta should do, right? I mean, I used to work with this kid Patrick who used to work in an Italian restaurant, and their portion sizes were one pound of pasta PER PERSON. Yes, you read that correctly.

Can I just tell you that two pounds of capellini makes an ENORMOUS amount of pasta? It filled a three foot long oval platter. I don't understand the physics behind this, at all. If somebody can explain it to me, help me out with it. But my six or seven cups of sauce were kind of lost in the middle so the moral of the story is a) if you're cooking capellini, good luck, and b) if you're making tomato sauce, don't put it on too much pasta.

Dr. S., by the way, had two helpings. They all loved it, and there had to be at least half a platter left over. Amazing.

What do you follow a meal like this with?



Some yummy Black Forest Cake!

This is a spectacular creation, both to look at, and to eat. Dr. S. was completely on board with the idea of this cake once I gave him the parameters: chocolate, kirsch, and cherries.

It's even better the next day, once the cake has had a chance to soak up some of the liquid from the sour cherry jam and the kirsch syrup. And this is no wimpy Betty Crocker cake either--it has backbone from ground almonds in the mix. Epicurious doesn't list this recipe (at least not in the format the book uses) so if you want the recipe just let me know.

Now get away from this computer and go walk off some of those Thanksgiving calories!

Pita Toasts, Cheese Straws and Thanksgiving!

Reader, in a perfect world there would be a little kitchen elf who would magically make hors d'oeurves appear while I'm putting the finishing touches on dinner. My mind just doesn't naturally wander in that direction when I'm thinking about food--you're much more likely to find me musing about the perfect dessert, or about the balance of flavors, textures and colors on the dinner plate.

And appetizers can, if done with too much flourish, actually dull the appetites of diners, and nothing makes a chef crankier than someone who picks at their dinner because they've eaten too much clam dip. I am guilty of this--a) I love clam dip and b) when I'm starving I eat what's in front of me until I'm full, regardless of course. I guess what I'm saying is that if I were my own guest, I would find myself very irritating! Good thing quantum physics doesn't allow that yet.

Anyway, all this is to explain why I haven't delved into the "Hors D'Oeurves and First Courses" chapter of this book too much, although at work it's de rigueur, especially when family comes. Usually it's a nice cheese with some crackers and grapes, but eventually I'll work my way through this chapter and somebody, somewhere, will get to try things like Fresh Corn Madeleines with Sour Cream and Caviar.

But not today.

Today I'm going to tell you about Pita Toasts and Cheese Straws.

Actually, I served the Pita Toasts as an accompaniment to lentil soup for my writing group, and I would make these again, any day. Here's why: easy, fast, and adjustable. (Oh, and delicious.)

To make the process more efficient, do this--instead of cutting the pitas in half, then into wedges, then brushing with oil--cut them in half, brush the rounds with oil, sprinkle with kosher salt, stack the rounds, and cut the stack into wedges.

My only mistake with this recipe was mixing white pitas with thinner, whole wheat ones--the thinner ones browned much more quickly and were on the edge of too done.

Dieters--you can make this a friendly snack by using those great high fiber pitas and spraying them lightly with cooking spray (preferably something without silicone).

You can also jazz these up by mixing a spice like cumin or chili powder into your oil.

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I wasn't as happy with the Cheese Straws, and part of this was my literal brain. Don't you think something called a "straw" should be long and thin? And that's what the headnotes say too--thin and elegant, and that's how you feel when you're nibbling them. I followed the directions precisely (except what kind of cheese I used--I subbed dill havarti for cheddar) and my straws were kind of stumpy. They were more like sticks. But I guess Cheese Sticks doesn't sound quite as appealing, does it?



These aren't mine, but this is what they looked like. And I wasn't crazy about them, truthfully. Maybe it's because they're made with puff pastry, and I find puff pastry to be kind of bland and greasy. But my folks liked them, so maybe I'm just being cranky and persnickety.

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Hey readers! What are you doing for Thanksgiving? Talk about a holiday where the focus is on the food! So tell me, where are you going, who's doing the cooking, and are you bringing anything? An old family recipe, or are you experimenting on your unsuspecting co-diners? (I am.) This is a fun time of year, so share the foodie bliss with us!

Apple Puffed Pancake and Curried Lentil Soup with Tomato and Spinach

Readers, I'm sorry to say that Epicurious does not carry either of these recipes, which means that they were never published in Gourmet Magazine. It's been interesting to note which recipes are family favorites of the cookbook staff (like Ruth R.'s mother's pancake recipe), which ones were culled from other cookbooks (a lot of the ethnic ones) and which ones are from their archives.

Anyway, these were both great recipes so if you don't have the book and you absolutely must cook one or the other or both let me know and I'll include the particulars.

I made Apple Puffed Pancake for breakfast on Saturday morning for a special treat. I am generally a cereal/oatmeal girl, and even when I go out for breakfast I tend towards egg dishes. But O'Malley was with us and I thought it would be fun to do. I had something like this long ago visiting my friend Moira when she lived in Cambridge--her apartment-mate whipped it up for breakfast and I remember being quite amazed at the chemistry of it.

If you've ever made popovers or Yorkshire pudding the concept is exactly the same except you're adding apples that have been sauteed in butter, a lot of sugar, and spices. Think apple pie filling and you've got it. You use the same skillet on the stovetop and in the oven, and the filling puffs up gorgeously, then settles into itself within a minute or two of being out on the counter top. Dust with confectioner's sugar, and you've got a breakfast treat with hardly any redeeming nutritive features...but it's wildly tasty, so who cares? O'Malley loved this dish and ate most of it, I'm happy to say (which means I'm glad that I didn't eat most of it.)

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I made the Curried Lentil Soup with Tomato and Spinach at work when D. and his daughter H. were visiting. H. is a vege-fisha-tarian, and this was something I was able to produce with what I had on hand in the pantry.

Anybody who is or has been a vegetarian has probably had umpteen versions of lentil soup--I know I have. So what elevates this dish are two things--curry powder and lemon juice. The curry powder goes in at the beginning, and the lemon juice goes in at the end. A fantastic dish for a fall day!