The Perfect Pantry

Maple syrup (Recipes: maple nut bread and a maple cocktail)

Guest post and photos by Sarah in Boston.

My dad had a way of making the simplest foods into a celebration.

He spent a lot of his free time in his backyard garden, talking to robins and tilling the soil with his trusty hoe. Each garden season was met with great anticipation: the first rhubarb, green onions, beefsteak tomatoes, basketball-sized cabbage heads -- you name it, he grew it.

For each thing he grew, he created a special ritual to enjoy it, something as simple as walking around with a pocketful of salt so he could eat radishes and cucumbers right out of the garden.

He had his special ways of enjoying other foods, too, like red-skinned peanuts and cold, locally made hot dogs. He was very particular about the hot dogs. He would never eat packaged ones raw, but the ones they made at Tom’s Market he ate by the pound. If I close my eyes, I can still see him sitting at the picnic table, listening to the Detroit Tigers on the radio, with a pound of peanuts and a plastic Tupperware tub of hot dogs, watching his garden, and sometimes fiddling with his car.

Another favorite was maple syrup, and of course he created a family ceremony around the annual spring tapping of the sugar maple in our front yard.

Sherry vinegar (Recipe: bread salad with roasted tomato vinaigrette)

Ten things I know about sherry vinegar (you'll be glad to know them, too):

Sea salt (Recipe: Schlottz's knots)

A week of ingredients featured in kid-friendly recipes from the Green Eggs and Ham Cookbook by Georgeanne Brennan. Welcome to Dr. Seuss Week, Day One.

Here's the kind of question Dr. Seuss would have loved:

If the sea is blue, why is sea salt white, or grey, or pink?

Fresh pizza dough, and a birthday cookbook giveaway (Recipe: peachy mama pizza)

Never let it be said that Rhode Islanders don't know their pizza.

Pizza is a way of life here. On Federal Hill, the most Italian neighborhood in the most Italian state in the country, even the local bar grills pizza in a wood-fired oven. Thick crust or thin, from North Providence to Newport, you can find above-average pizza everywhere, including in our middle-of-nowhere village five miles up the road.

And, because we love our pizza, every market sells fresh pizza dough, often from the local pizzeria or from a comissary not more than a few minutes from the store.

All-purpose flour (Recipe: cheddar cheese biscuits)

Updated from the archives, with new links, recipe and photo.

For the most part, I don't believe in "one size fits all," because I am a size and shape that one size never seems to fit.

And while in my pantry I have half a dozen types of flour -- surprising, given that I'm a notorious bake-o-phobe -- the one I reach for more often than not is "one size fits all," also known as all-purpose flour.

Mandioca starch (Recipe: Brazilian cheese bread)

Guest post and photo by Peter in Brazil, chef and co-owner of Pousada do Capão

One of the pillars of the Brazilian pantry, polvilho -- also known as mandioca starch -- is the key ingredient in pão de queijo, the cheese bread that hooked me on my very first taste of it, during my very first trip to Brazil five years ago.

When I came home to Rhode Island, I started cruising ethnic markets to find polvilho. With more than 200,000 Brazilians in the southern New England area -- 80 percent from Minas Gerais, where I live now -- it was a cinch, and pão de queijo rapidly became a fixture on the menu of my personal chef business.

Powdered ginger (Recipe: Kate's Ginger Shortcakes)

Ginger Week, Day Three.

Once upon a time, Ted and I had a cat named Henry, who was the color of powdered ginger and had a temperament to match.

He was fiery and full of personality, sometimes unexpected, with a bit of a bite.

And that's just how I'd describe powdered ginger.

Also called ground ginger, powdered ginger is made by drying the fresh ginger rhizome, and then grinding it into a fine powder. As the rhizomes can be quite fibrous, it's best to buy the spice already ground. Purchase from a reliable source and, if possible, taste before you buy; the best quality powdered ginger should be pungent (not bitter) and lemony.

Used primarily -- though not exclusively -- for baking, powdered ginger's flavor is very different from fresh ginger. Many sources suggest that 1/8 teaspoon of dried ginger can substitute for 1 tablespoon of fresh or crystallized ginger, but please don't do it. Trust me; these are two different animals, fresh and powdered, and the taste isn't remotely the same.

In the 19th Century, British bartenders kept shakers of powdered ginger on the bar, so patrons could add a bit to their drinks. I don't know why or when the practice ended, but I say bring back the ginger shaker.

Keep one on the bar, to make your own ginger ale, and another on the kitchen counter, in case you get the urge to bake ginger-pear-saffron cake, molasses-ginger spice snaps, Guinness ginger cake, Chinese five-spice chocolate cupcakes, pumpkin spice scones, apricot and pistachio cake, or old-fashioned gingerbread.

KATE'S GINGER SHORTCAKES
Pastry chef extraordinaire Kate Jennings, co-owner of Farmstead and La Laiterie in Providence, Rhode Island, created and gave her permission for me to share this recipe, which makes 6 large biscuits, perfect for afternoon tea. The double ginger, powdered and crystallized, gives these a more pronounced ginger flavor than the biscotti in my previous post.

3 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 Tbsp baking powder
3/4 tsp baking soda
1 tsp kosher salt
1/4 tsp cream of tartar
1 Tbsp powdered ginger
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1-1/2 sticks (3/4 cup) cold, cubed butter
3 Tbsp chopped crystallized ginger
1 cup buttermilk

Procedure: Mix dry ingredients by hand. Add cold, cubed butter and crystallized ginger, and cut in until combined. Add buttermilk and knead until the dough comes together. Make 6 large biscuits. Bake at 425 degrees for 15 minutes, until golden.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Spicy peanut noodles
Kicked-up gingerbread
Not-just-for-Thanksgiving pumpkin pie
Ginger-apricot biscotti

Crystallized ginger (Recipe: ginger-apricot biscotti)

Ginger Week, Day Two.

When I was young, I learned a thing or two about folk remedies.

My grandmother taught me that chicken soup would cure all ills.

My mother taught me that Hershey chocolate bars could cure what chicken soup could not.

Nobody taught me that chewing crystallized ginger could help restore equilibrium, combat sea sickness, mitigate hot flashes, and alleviate symptoms of the common cold -- or that it would taste so amazingly good in gingersnaps, cheesecake, ginger pear bran muffins, ginger pecan biscotti, scones, espresso brownies, and cranberry-apricot-ginger chutney.

Crystallized ginger is fresh ginger that has been peeled, cut into small pieces, boiled in a simple syrup of sugar and water, and then rolled in granulated sugar. It's pungent and sweet, easy to make, easy to find in grocery stores (look in the baking aisle) and Asian markets, and easy to buy online (I like Penzeys' Australian ginger).

When you shop for crystallized ginger (also called candied ginger), be sure to read the ingredients. Sometimes sulfur dioxide is added to help fix the color; if possible, buy a product that contains only ginger and sugar.

Stored in an airtight container, crystallized ginger will keep for up to two years. If it clumps or the sugar on the outside of the individual pieces begins to deteriorate, the ginger has passed its prime and should be replaced.

I always have crystallized ginger in my pantry.

I have Hershey bars in the pantry, too. For medicinal purposes, of course.

GINGER APRICOT BISCOTTI
Last summer, many bloggers cooked from Faith Heller Willinger's Adventures of an Italian Food Lover. I made two recipes: chicken with herbs, cooked under a brick, and these biscotti. Easy, quick, and needing only one baking, they were so delicious that I decided to make them again, adapting the recipe slightly. Makes 20.

3-1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp powdered ginger
1/4 cup + 1 Tbsp demarara sugar
1/4 tsp fine sea salt or kosher salt
3 Tbsp unsalted butter, chilled
1/3 cup chopped crystallized ginger
1/4 cup chopped dried apricots
1/4 cup chopped dried cranberries
1/2 medium apple, peeled, cored and chopped
3 eggs
2/3 cup heavy cream

Preheat the oven to 425°F.

Combine the flour, baking powder, powdered ginger, sugar and salt in a bowl. Cut the chilled butter into the flour and sugar mixture (or pulse in a food processor). Add the chopped crystallized ginger, dried fruits and apple to the flour-sugar mixture.

In another bowl, beat the eggs and cream together, and add to the dried ingredients. Mix quickly, until the dough comes together. Transfer the dough to a piece of parchment paper, pat out to an 8-by-10 inch rectangle that's 3/4-inch thick. Cut into 2-1/2 inch squares.

Bake on a baking sheet lined with a Silpat (silicone liner) or parchment paper for 12-15 minutes, or until lightly browned.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Kicked-up gingerbread
Honey gingerbread cookies
Pumpkin pie

The Brazil 13 (Recipe: cheese-y cornmeal cakes)

Please welcome Peter, chef and co-owner of Pousada do Capao, who with this, his first-ever blog post, joins The Perfect Pantry as guest blogger. An American living in Brazil, he will share his stories, original and local recipes, and photos, once a month or so.

Guest post by Peter in Brazil

I live in the interior of Minas Gerais, Brazil, but a peek in my pantry would never give me away. Could be New York, could be California. I have a small obsession -- I am a pantry hoarder.

I always wanted to run an inn with a focus on great comfort food. I never ever thought it would be in Brazil. How did I get here? Let'€™s just say I was a misfit bank executive, almost empty-nester, with a knack for languages and a love for travel, who decided to celebrate his 50th birthday walking across Spain on the Camino de Santiago, and there I met a woman....

The region where I live has a centuries-old tradition of simple, hearty, working class food still slow-cooked in soapstone pots on wood-burning stoves and in wood ovens: rice and beans, squash and corn, cassava, greens, pork, beef, and chicken (with an occasional armadillo or mountain rodent), seasoned with the ever-present flavors of garlic, onion, salt, hot pepper and then innumerable breads, cakes, cookies, spoon sweets, and of course the famous cheese of Serro.

And so, the top 13 pantry items in almost any São Gonçalo do Rio das Pedras kitchen are almost without exception: rice, beans, sugar, soybean oil, salt, garlic, various grinds of cornmeal, coffee, wheat flour, manioc starch (polvilho), baking powder, hot peppers, and eggs.

If we went up to 21 ingredients we could add: onions, cinnamon, anise seed, urucum (Brazil's word for achiote), probably some pasta and some tomato puree, condensed milk, and coconut milk. Pretty normal, pretty universal, with a few exceptions -- and quite simply just about the whole gamut of what is to be had here in the boonies.

Of course my pantry features all these regulars. But it's just not enough.

Every few months when we go to the big city of Belo Horizonte (and it is big -- up to 5+ million if you include the total metro area), I am drawn to the Mercado Central. I get lost for hours just cruising the booths of herbs, spices, dried fruits, nuts, grains, salted fish, smoked meats, fresh cheeses, imports from all over Brazil and from all over the world. Hundreds of kinds of peppers, fruits you've never even dreamed of, roots and leaves and pods. And I go on a spree, stocking my pantry with black sesame seeds and tapioca and dried mushrooms and dates. And mustard seeds and pink pepper and gersal and guava paste. And tahini and monster pine nuts and candied fruits and turmeric.

Then there's the required stop at Verdemar, BH's upscale supermarket, Brazil's answer to Whole Foods or Dean and DeLuca. I fill the cart with olive oil and pelati, risotto and giant shells, kalamata olives and frozen phyllo dough, barley and quinoa. Who knows when we'll get back to civilization again? I promise I'll use it. And my mind is already spinning with so many permutations.

When we finally get home and unpack, Marlene, our cook at the inn, just looks at the spoils and smiles and kind of shakes her head. As a child, one of ten, she says she often ate nothing but banana porridge for weeks at a time. Or cornmeal one hundred and one ways. I try to remember to remove the price tags before I get home.

But my pantry hoarding doesn't stop there. Family and friends who send presents or smuggle in contraband on rare visits are the best contributors. I have Grandma's molasses, Skippy Superchunk, 100% pure Vermont maple syrup, real vanilla extract, wild rice, Gold's horseradish, Maille Dijon mustard, and so much more.

As an aspiring young chef who trained with Madeline Kamman in Boston in the '70€™s, I bought hibiscus and elderflowers and linden and orrisroot by mail-order. I explored Chinatown and the North End's Italian markets, and came home with dried sea slugs and star anise and candied angelica root and chestnut flour. And eventually I experimented with them all. Successes and failures both, but it was always exciting and always rewarding.

And, really, thirty-plus years of pantry hoarding later, not much has changed.

BOLO DE FUBÁ
A wicked simple and delicious cornmeal cake usually served for breakfast, this dish is pure Minas Gerais. The recipe uses 6 of the 13 basic pantry items, with the addition of that ubiquitous Minas cheese, and was given to me by Dona Zinha of Diamantina. She measures everything using a glass requeijão cup -- Brazil's version of a Welch's grape jelly jar (you should use an 8-ounce cup). She gives no baking instructions; we are just supposed to know these things. I ad libbed.

1 cup corn oil
1 cup sugar
1 cup fine cornmeal
1 cup grated cheese -- Monterey Jack or muenster or even fontina
3 eggs
1 tsp baking powder

Blend until smooth in the blender. Bake 45 minutes or so in a small tube or loaf pan in a preheated 350°F degree oven until a toothpick comes out clean.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Polenta dome
Baked polenta with braised wild mushrooms

Molasses (Recipe: Boston brown bread)

Spring has sprung, and my friend Laura is back on the yard sale circuit. And -- lucky me! -- she's already scored a couple of vintage cookbooks to add to my collection.

This week's bounty includes a book of chafing dish recipes by Fannie Farmer, and a guide to restaurants (and recipes) rated tops by employees of the Ford Motor Company -- in the 1940s. That was the heyday of motoring, of Sunday "drives in the car", before environmental awareness and gas prices hovering near US$3.50 a gallon. I love reading the descriptions of some of the historic inns all across the country, and I love the recipes -- old-fashioned, made with old-fashioned ingredients like molasses.

Molasses is a byproduct of the sugar refining process. After raw cane juice is processed into raw sugar, the sugar is refined, and the syrup that remains after the sugar has been crystallized is called first molasses. It's then thinned with water and boiled down again, to extract more sugar. With each boiling, the syrup (molasses) becomes less sweet. After three or more boilings, it's called blackstrap molasses -- almost no sweetness, but rich in iron, calcium and potassium. The darker the molasses, the stronger (less sweet) the taste.

These days, the largest producers of molasses are India, Brazil, Taiwan, Thailand, the Philippines and the United States, and it features in both sweet and savory dishes from each of those regions.

Store molasses in the refrigerator or a cool, dry pantry cupboard for up to six months after opening, and you'll be ready to make ginger spice cookies, marble molasses pound cake, Indian pudding, honey-molasses chicken or slow-cooked baked beans, all of which will help you keep up your strength for a morning of yard sale scavenging.

BOSTON BROWN BREAD
From The Ford Treasury of Favorite Recipes from Famous Eating Places, published in 1946. This recipe comes from The Williams Inn in Williamstown, Massachusetts; the lovely historic inn pictured in the book was converted to a women's dormitory for Williams College many years ago, but the new inn that replaced it still uses some of the original recipes. For sour milk, substitute an equal amount of buttermilk. A #5 tin is a 56-ounce can (7-1/3 cups). Makes 4 loaves; recipe can be halved, and baked loaves can be frozen.

3 cups bread flour
3 cups yellow cornmeal
3 cups whole wheat flour
1 Tbsp baking soda
2 cups raisins
1 Tbsp cinnamon
1 Tbsp ginger
3 eggs, beaten slightly
3 cups molasses
3 cups sour milk

Mix dry ingredients together first; then combine remaining items in a separate bowl. Add dry mix to this liquid and stir well. Spoon equal parts into 4 well-greased, tall #5 tins. Cover with lids or waxed paper tied on firmly, and steam for 3 hours.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Indian pudding
Gingerbread cookies