Cook's Country April/May 2019

HOW DO YOU like your chocolate chip cookies? Are you a fan of the soft, chewy, ooey-gooey style? Or do you fly your flag for the more delicate thin and crispy style? I can’t tell you how many hours we’ve spent debating this topic in the Cook’s Country office. It’s a good-natured, wholesome, passionate debate, one that inspires remarkably well-articulated arguments on both sides. And in the end, everyone gets a glass of milk. If only every debate were so civil. Me, I’ve never met a chocolate chip cookie that I wouldn’t eat (except maybe one with nuts—I have a strict no-nuts policy when it comes to cookies). But if pressed for a desert-island decision, I’ll choose thin and crispy. I just love the buttery flavor and satisfying snap, with…

Fond of Flavor When it comes to using fond, I’m confused. Won’t the dark bits make my pan sauce taste burnt? –Edward Merrell, Olympia, Wash. The browned bits that stick to the bottom of the pan when you sear meat are called fond—and they are packed with savory flavor. We understand that the degree to which the fond in the pan has browned can be worrisome, and it can be a problem if it gets too dark. Fond is the direct result of the Maillard reaction, during which proteins and natural sugars in a food are transformed by heat to create new complex flavor compounds. The flavorful browning on a pan-fried steak is a common example of this reaction, and so is the browning that occurs on a loaf of…

Crushing It –Scott Flaherty, Somerville, Mass. I like to make stir-fry for a quick supper, but I’m not great at slicing beef or chicken really thin. If I end up with a few slices that are thicker than ideal, I lay them (individually) on my cutting board and, similar to crushing garlic cloves, use the flat side of my knife to flatten and thin the meat with just a quick whack with my hand (you can use a meat pounder, too). Do Put All Your Eggs in One Basket –Donna Leach, Nipomo, Calif. When I was making a big batch of egg salad, it occurred to me that there was a faster way to cut up all those hard-cooked eggs. Instead of using my chef’s knife as usual, I put…

PRODUCT TASTING ALL BACON IS special, but some small-batch artisanal bacon is extra-special—and priced accordingly. Since we last tasted artisanal bacons, more bacons made by smaller-scale producers have become available online. We were curious how our previous favorite, Vande Rose Applewood Smoked Artisan Dry Cured Bacon ($29.07 per pound, including shipping), stacked up against the competition, so we tasted it alongside six other high-end dry-cured bacons, all available online and priced from $8.00 to $14.75 per pound (shipping not included). We tried them plain, in our Southern-Style Green Beans, and in BLTs. What did we find out? We liked all the bacons we tried, but often in different applications. Some were great in green beans but too intense when eaten plain; others were good plain but got lost in a…

IN 1953, SAMUEL Cacia purchased a turnkey bakery in South Philadelphia. At first, he offered tomato pie only on Fridays. Today, tomato pie is a permanent fixture. When the elder Cacia passed away in 1964, his grandson, Sam Cacia, and Sam’s uncle, Raymond Cacia, took over the business. Although they’ve expanded to multiple locations, Sam says, “There’s always a Cacia family member in each location.” In the crowded front space of the South Philly branch, a glass partition separates customers from the giant rectangular pizzas. “Most people from the neighborhood buy it by the slice; most full-size pies are ordered by out-of-towners,” Sam says. ON THE ROAD In the kitchen, the true scale of Cacia’s reveals itself. There’s a light dusting of flour on every surface, emitted from a 50,000-pound-capacity…

AS A LOVER of all things topped with gooey melted cheese, I found Philly tomato pie puzzling at first. It has a thick crust similar to that of Sicilian-style pizza. It’s sold by the rectangular slice like Sicilian-style pizza. And like all pizza, it has tomato sauce. But this Philly pie features no cheese. Though I initially wondered where the fun was in that, I’ve also never met a pizza I didn’t like. Philly tomato pie’s crust is thick and chewy-soft. The sauce is invigorating—sweet-tart and herby. This pie is generally eaten at room temperature. Cheese or no cheese, I was smitten at first bite and eager for a home version that would be no different. A South Philadelphia specialty (see “Beauty in the Basics”), Philly tomato pie evolved as…