Kitchenography

Chocolate Buttercrunch Matzoh

The only seder I've ever attended was at the home of my childhood best friend when I was ten. My entire family was there and the moment of highest drama came when my baby brother, who was sitting on my mother's lap, reached over and helped himself to some horseradish from the seder plate. He cried and made faces, and my friend Lizzy, realizing the comic potential of eating horseradish, also had some and made a dramatic show of how terrible it was and ran to the kitchen for water. There were six children at the table that night and I remember no sense of solemn occasion but rather great hilarity throughout the evening.

That Passover aside, there's something about Passover that seems more matched to Thanksgiving rather than Easter in terms of being a big holiday meal and a time to gather with family. I find myself for reasons of family and tradition regretting that the religion of my upbringing (culinarily known for giving the world fishsticks on Friday) does not have a Passover celebration.But even though I do not come from Passover-celebrating people I have not let that stop me from making this matzoh buttercrunch which is ridiculously easy to make (really, it could not be simpler) and ridiculously addictive to eat.

Matzoh Brown Sugar Buttercrunch

adapted from Marcy Goldman in the Los Angeles Times via The Best American Recipes 2002-2003 and Bakers Field Guide to Holiday Candy and Confections

4 to 6 whole lightly salted matzohs
2 sticks of unsalted butter
1 cup light brown sugar
6 to 8 oz of chocolate chips or chopped semi-sweet chocolate

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

2. Cover a jelly roll pan or rimmed baking sheet with a sheet of aluminum foil and on top of that a piece of parchment paper (or spray the pan with that non-stick spray stuff). Cover the entire surface with a layer of matzohs. You'll have to break them to fit around the edges.

3. In a saucepan, combine sugar and butter over medium heat, stirring until the butter and sugar melt, bring to a boil and then boil for two to four minutes. I did this for closer to four.

4. Pour the sugar butter mixture over the matzohs trying to cover all of them evenly and use a spatula to make sure they're covered evenly.

5. Bake for 15 minutes. Remove from the oven, sprinkle the surface with the chocolate chips and wait five minutes. Spread the chocolate mixture evenly over the surface of the matzohs.

6. Put the pan in the freezer for 30 minutes (says Marcy Goldman) or refrigerate for 30 minutes (says the Bakers Field Guide). I went with 30 minutes in the freezer because I had more room there. Break the matzoh into pieces. Store in an air tight container.

Nika Hazelton's Flemish Asparagus

This recipe is adapted from Nika Hazelton's I Cook as I Please, a series of essays with recipes published in 1974 and the winner of 1975's Cookbook of the Year Award from the James Beard Foundation. Nika Hazleton was a cookbook author, the cookbook reviewer for the NY Times, and a food columnist for William F. Buckley, Jr.'s National Review.  She was a pal of James Beard's and it was James Beard who recommended her for the National Review food column.

I find myself slightly amazed that the National Review ever had a food columnist (I'm unable to determine via google if they still do) and even more amazed that I'm actually reading the National Review even if it is just a food column, but Nika Hazleton's food writing both in her columns and in her book is charmingly and quirkily, and sometimes even a little grumpily, opinionated, and an enjoyable read. Many of her opinions -- her insistence on seasonal fruits and vegetables, for instance -- seem ahead of their time.

In the headnotes for this recipe Nika Hazelton writes that when asparagus is in season she would invite people for a meal that consisted only of asparagus, followed by a substantial dessert like a cake. In fact, she is well known for a birthday party dinner she hosted for William F. Buckley where asparagus was served as the main course. I love the idea for the asparagus-only dinner and I think strawberry shortcake would be the perfect dessert. I look forward to doing it this spring when our local asparagus is in.

Our weather lately has been cold and wet and this is a hearty and filling meal for a cold and wet spring day. The lemon-butter-egg sauce is rich although not overwhelmingly so and in combination with the asparagus and potato makes a complete meal although if you were looking for something a little lighter you could serve it without the potatoes.

Nika Hazelton's Flemish Asparagus

for each serving:

1/2 to 3/4 pound of asparagus
1 medium sized thin-skinned potato
1 hard boiled egg, peeled
4 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon of lemon
1 tablespoon of minced parsley
salt
pepper

1. Boil the potato in salted water until a fork pierces it easily.

2. Meanwhile, trim  the asparagus and if the stalks are thick, peel them. Cook the asparagus in boiling salted water until they are tender. I'm a freak about not having mushy asparagus and I pull them out while they still have a little crispness.

3. Sieve the eggs. I wasn't very successful in sieving my eggs and resorted to chopping them very finely in the food processor. Pulse until the eggs are chopped finely but stop while they are still fluffy and before they become egg paste. Melt the butter, add the sieved eggs, parsley, and lemon juice. Add salt and pepper to taste.

4. Serve by mashing open a potato, salt it, lay the asparagus on top, spoon the sauce over the asparagus leaving the asparagus tips unsauced.

Tomato Fennel Soup

Only recently I was boasting about my kick-ass immune system. The last time I was sick with the flu or a cold was 2003, the time before that 1998, and the time before that in the early nineties. I wasn't sick for more than a couple of days any of those times.

You know where this is going, don't you? Apparently I tempted the fates. Pride goeth before a fall -- or in this case, pride goeth before the flu.

One minute I'm boasting about my immune system, the next minute I'm fevered and have a tubercular sounding cough and a voice that's so raspy I sound as if I could be Marge Simpson's chain-smoking sister. For the past 10 days I have either had the flu or have been slowly recovering from the flu. My immune system has gone from kick-ass to lame-ass.

The whole thing has left me tired -- I nap constantly -- and spacey. Several days after first coming down with the flu, when I was sure I was over everything, I went to the grocery store and lost my shopping cart. I parked it in an aisle so I could get up to the crowded meat counter without it. Fifteen seconds later I was completely unable to remember which aisle. A good indication that I was not as over everything as I thought. 

Today I might actually cook something for the first time since this whole flu business hit. My appetite has been nonexistent in the last ten days but today for the first time I am actually hungry. There are two fennel bulbs waiting in the fridge to be made into this soup which is a recent favorite and seems like a good thing to nudge me back to real food.

Tomato Fennel Soup

adapted from Anthony Bourdain's Les Halles Cookbook

olive oil
2 fennel bulbs
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 small onion, diced
1 potato, peeled and diced
1 28-oz can plum tomatoes
1 quart chicken broth
2 tablespoons Pernod (optional)
salt

1. Cut the stalks from the fennel bulbs level with the bulbs. Cut the fennel bulb in half from top to bottom, and then each half in half  from top to bottom. This will reveal the fennel's core which you should remove. Slice the fennel thinly.

2. Gently sauté the garlic and onions in a couple of tablespoons of olive oil. When the onions are translucent, add the sliced fennel and the potato. Salt lightly. Gently sauté for about 10 more minutes, then add the tomatoes and the broth.

3. Bring to a boil, adjust to a simmer, and continue to simmer for about an hour. Add the Pernod and allow to simmer for a few more minutes.

4. Allow the soup to cool slightly, then puree in the blender in batches. The soup will have a better texture if you then strain it or pass it through a food mill.

5. Reheat soup. Taste for seasoning. Serve.

Ginger, Cilantro, and Coconut Milk Crab Cakes

As soon as I typed the title of this post I had a sudden mental image of appalled Baltimore-born life-long crab cake-eaters shuddering at the very thought of someone tampering so drastically with the traditional Maryland crab cake formula.

"Ginger, cilantro, and coconut," I hear them gasp (or snort, or sneer, or snarl). "In a crab cake?"

Heresy,  I know.

And certainly I understand objections to tampering with perfection. Some things are perfect just as they are and cannot be improved upon. Apple pie and BLT's immediately come to mind as do those perfect 1960s sitcoms such as Bewitched that are forever being remade as movies. Fancy them up all you want, "update" them to your heart's content. They won't be better than the original.

Yet I have long looked at this recipe in Barbara Tropp's China Moon Cookbook and always thought that coconut milk would nicely complement the sweetness of the crabs. And after all what are crab cakes but a way of showcasing crabs? I'm happily willing to check out non-traditional flavorings if they do the job. And besides, what's non-traditional for someone living in Baltimore would be completely traditional for someone living on the other side of the world.

A couple of things about crabs:

All crabs are not created equal. The blue claw, which is found up and down the Atlantic coast and in the Gulf of Mexico but is particularly identified with the Chesapeake Bay, has meat that is sweet and rich -- far more sweet and rich than its cousins the Dungeness crab and the snow crab which are the only other crabs I'm familiar with. Blue claw crabmeat makes the best crab cakes, and of the grades that are normally offered -- jumbo lump, backfin, special, and claw -- jumbo lump and backfin make the best crabcake.

The crab meat they sell at Costco or Trader Joe's for $9.99 a pound? Not from the blue claw. The meat of  the blue claw is not inexpensive. In the summer, when crabs are in season locally, blue claw jumbo lump is more than $20 a pound. In the winter months it can be well over $30 a pound. But crab meat from China or India (or even California) will not have the incomparable sweetness and richness of a blue claw, and the single most important component of your crab cake is the crab meat.

However, most of the crab meat I see these days is not from the blue claw. At my local Whole Foods the crab comes from India, at Sterling's, a nearby seafood store, the jumbo lump they are selling is from China. In fact, the crab I used for these came from China -- not my first choice obviously, but then again, who expects to go to a seafood store in Baltimore and find only Chinese crab available? Not me.

Barbara Tropp's recipe I will definitely try again. This was good and I think with the right crab meat it will be stunning.

Barbara Tropp's Crab Cakes with Ginger, Cilantro, and Coconut Milk

1/4 a bunch of cilantro (or more to taste -- the orignal recipe uses one entire bunch), leaves and stems, finely chopped
2 tablespoons grated ginger
4 scallions, sliced into thin rings using the white part and about two inches of the green
1 teaspoon (or more to taste) Chinese chile sauce
1/4 teaspoon salt
2/3 cup coconut milk
2  pieces white sandwich bread (the same type as Pepperidge Farm), crusts removed, in tiny pieces
1 large egg, lightly beaten
1 pound jumbo lump blue claw crabmeat

1. In a bowl, mix the cilantro, ginger, scallions, chile paste, salt, coconut milk, bread, and egg together. Set aside.

2. Inspect the crab meat for bits of shell being very careful not to break up the big lumps of crab.

3. Gently fold the cilantro ginger mixture into the crab. Taste for seasoning. Gently but firmly press the crab meat mixture into patties. I did this by filling 3-inch english muffin rings with the crab mixture, removing the ring and then gently pressing the edges towards the center. Place the patties on a cookie sheet covered with parchment paper and let it sit in the refrigerator for about an hour which will make the crab cakes firmer and less prone to breaking apart.

4. Generously film a cast iron frying pan or whatever frying pan you may have with vegetable oil (this would not be the time to use olive oil) and saute the crab cakes until browned. Turn gently and brown the second side.

BTW, if you are interested in traditional crab cakes there was an excellent  article in the Baltimore City Paper a week or two ago with excellent pointers about making a crab cake. You can also find a recipe from Maryland's U.S.senator Barbara Mikulski on her web page. In the New York Times archives there's a great article from the late R. W. Apple Jr. about crab cakes and other Baltimore eats which you can find here.

Attention Baltimore Food Bloggers

As you can see, I'm in the process of  doing a little blog updating which includes updating my Baltimore food blog links. If you're a food blogger in Baltimore and I don't have a link to your blog, please leave a message in the comments or email me.

Red Lentil Soup

Lentil soup is not something that's ever excited me. I don't mind it -- I'll eat it -- but I associate it with a type of earnest, serious -- sort of dreary --1970s style of "health food."  In my mind it keeps company with brown rice casseroles, and leaden cakes and pastries made with whole wheat flour and honey, eaten by serious and earnest Earth shoe-wearing people.

I realize there are those who love lentil soup, and that my views on the lentil are no doubt due to my inability to appreciate the lentil rather than any shortcoming on its part. But there it is. I still don't find lentil soup exciting.

Except for this lentil soup, which is the polar opposite of muddy brown lentil soup. It's a thick, rich yellow, brightened with cumin, lots of lemon, and red pepper. I'm not the sort of person who's given to using words like zingy but if I were, I'd call this soup zingy. It's the sort of soup that provides a good antidote to February which in Baltimore is cold, often grey, and given to ice storms.

Red Lentil Soup

Adapted from A Beautiful Bowl of Soup

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon ground coriander
1 tablespoon cumin
2 carrots, finely chopped
1 3/4 cups red lentils, picked over and rinsed
3 14-oz cans chicken broth (or an equal amount of vegetable broth)
1 cup water
1/4 cup lemon juice
Additional lemon wedges

Garnishes:
aleppo pepper
cilantro leaves

1. Saute the garlic and onion over medium heat until the onion is tanslucent. Add the cumin and coriander, saute briefly, then add the lentils, chicken broth, and carrots.

2. Bring the soup to a boil then reduce to a simmer. Cook until the lentils are soft which will take about 30 to 45 minutes.

3. Stir in the cup of water, stirring to smooth the soup a little. Bring it back to a boil, remove from the heat, stir in the lemon juice. Taste for seasoning. I found that I needed no additional salt -- the canned broth provided enough.

4. Serve garnished with aleppo pepper and cilantro leaves. Pass lemon wedges for those who want to add additional lemon.

Serves 6

A very geeky cookbook aside: this recipe for red lentil soup is based mainly on one for shorbet adds, an Egyptian soup, from A Beautiful Bowl of Soup. Last weekend as my soup simmered on the stove, a thought occurred to me and I pulled my copy of Aromas of Aleppo: The Legendary Cuisine of Syrian Jews off the shelf. Sure enough, there was a recipe for shurbat addes, described as a thick and hearty red lentil soup with garlic and coriander, it was flavored with aleppo pepper, cumin, cilantro, and lemon. Intrigued, I checked Jewish Food: The World at Table and found a similar recipe for shorba addes or sour red lentil soup. In Sephardic Flavors: Jewish Cooking of the Mediterranean I found a recipe for sopa de lentejas colorada another red lentil soup flavored with cumin, cayenne, and lemon juice or vinegar. It's a red lentil soup that gets around.

Salad of Smoked Trout, Pink Grapefruit, and Radicchio

In the running to-do list in my mind (not the "vacuum car, pick-up dry cleaning, make dentist appointment" list but the larger, vaguer "learn Spanish, adopt healthier eating habits, look into composting" list) one of my items is "expand salad repertoire."

My usual salad is plain leaf lettuce dressed with olive oil, sherry vinegar, salt and pepper. And while I love my usual salad,  I'm in a little bit of a rut with it. The only other salad I make, and not too frequently, is this one.

I began making it because I was looking for a way to use the delicious smoked trout I'm able to buy at our farmer's market. Smoked trout is rich and almost sweet which makes a nice contrast here with the slight bitterness of the radicchio and the sweet-tartness of the grapefruit. Because of the richness of the smoked fish it's a satisfying salad and with larger portions can easily be a meal. It's also pretty, with color that brightens up a winter day.

The recipe is from Daniel Boulud's first book Cooking with Daniel by way of the Best American Recipes of 1999.  You can find a video of Boulud making this on the Food and Wine website.

Daniel Boulud's Salad of Smoked Trout, Pink Grapefruit, and Radicchio

1 cup of  bread in 1/2" cubes
1 garlic clove, minced
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 large pink grapefruit
1/3 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons sherry vinegar
1 head radicchio, about 3/4 pound
1 smoked trout (the ones I buy are usually a little over 8 oz)
1/2 cup walnut pieces
2 teaspoons chopped fresh cilantro, plus additional whole leaves for garnish
3 small scallions, white parts only, thinly sliced
Salt
Pepper

1. Toss the bread cubes with the garlic and oil and then bake them in a 350 degree oven until the bread cubes are golden, about 7 minutes

2. Toast the walnut pieces in 350 degree oven until they are fragrant, about 5 minutes

3. Peel the grapefruit, and then peel the membranes off the individual sections. Do this over a bowl so you can catch the juice also. Set aside six sections for garnish and cut the remaining slices into small (approximately 1/2”) pieces.

4. Whisk together the cream and vinegar and season with salt and pepper.

5. Tear the radicchio leaves into bite-sized pieces. Toss with enough dressing to moisten well. Add the smoked trout, walnuts, chopped cilantro, scallions, grapefruit pieces, and croutons. Add salt and pepper, then toss well, adding more dressing if needed.  Taste and adjust seasoning.

6. Garnish with reserved cilantro and reserved grapefruit. Serve with additional dressing on the side.

Note: Daniel Boloud suggests reserving 12 of the largest radicchio leaves and serve the salad in those, two to a person.

Serves 6

In the meantime, I'm looking for more salad recipes, an activity which mainly consists of mindlessly googling phrases like "best salad recipe." If you have any great salad recipes, please point me in their direction.

Artichoke Cannelloni

There is no other vegetable -- no other food really -- that I feel quite as passionately about as I do artichokes.

When I buy a new cookbook the first thing I do is check the index for artichoke recipes, and whenever I pick up a menu the first thing I scan for is artichokes. I would happily eat artichokes seven days a week.

I worry sometimes that my artichoke love clouds my vision or, more specifically, unduly influences my taste. If it's artichoke, I love it --unquestioningly and possibly undiscerningly.

This is pretty minimalist -- little more than artichoke, and as I happily ate my artichoke cannelloni last night I asked my husband if it was as good as I thought it was. He answered politely that it was good, that the tomato sauce and the pasta were really good, and the artichokes were also good, but that he wasn't...(he paused carefully here)... as crazy about artichokes as I was.

This didn't jolt me from my happy artichoke moment one bit. I merely pass this along because if you only feel so-so about artichokes, this won't be worth the effort involved. On the other hand, if you're also artichoke-crazed, I think you'll be extremely happy with this.

Artichoke Cannelloni

2 14-oz bags frozen artichoke bottoms
1 medium onion, diced
1 lb. ricotta
Salt
Pepper
Fresh pasta (I make  ½ batch of this recipe) cut into six inch squares.
Tomato sauce (I use this recipe.)

1. Thinly slice the artichoke bottoms (this can be done while they’re still frozen  and in fact they’ll be better if you do it while they’re still frozen) and then cut into half-inch pieces.

2. Put a good glug of olive oil in a large skillet. Heat this over medium heat and then add the onions. Cook the onions down for a  few minutes and then add the artichoke pieces. Turn the heat to medium high and cook until the artichokes are tender.  Salt and pepper to taste. 

3. Mix the artichokes with the ricotta. Taste again. Adjust seasonings. Does it taste good to you? If it does, you’re good to go. Put the artichoke mixture aside. (This can also be done the day before you plan on making the cannelloni.)

4. Cook the pasta four or five sheets at a time until just al dente.  Drain, rinse in cold water to stop the cooking and then pat dry.  Spread a thin layer of the artichoke mixture on the pasta, leaving a border of about 1/2 inch around the edge. Roll the pasta up and place seam side down in a baking dish that has been lightly coated with tomato sauce. I’m usually able to fit 10 to 12 in a 9 x 13 inch baking dish. This will be enough to fill two pans.

5. Cover the top of the cannellonis with tomato sauce.  Cover the baking dish with a piece of foil and bake for about 25 minutes in a 350 degree oven. Remove the foil and bake for another 15 minutes or so. When everything is good and hot, it’s ready.

Depending on how many canneloni you have and the appetite of those you're serving, this will serve 4 to 6.

This can be prepared in advance up until the point of baking. And if all this fresh pasta making and cannelloni rolling is too much for you, I have used this filling for a lasagna made with boxed lasagne noodles and though those lasagna noodles are nowhere near as good as freshly made they're still plenty good. Simply layer this filling, tomato sauce, and noodles. A grating of Parmigiano-Regianno between the layers is good, as is béchamel sauce if you're feeling up to it. Or not. It will be fine without it.

My favorite part of artichoke cannelloni? Leftovers! I'm looking forward to lunch today.

Best Recipes of 2007

I am a complete and total sucker for these sorts of best-of-the-year lists. With recipes I always think that my odds of hitting a truly good recipe are better if it's one that a group of food editors decide is a standout among a year's worth of recipes.

This year's Los Angeles Times' list has quite a few things I'm interested in trying including shrimp tacos with pumpkin seed sauce, lemon upside-down cake, brown sugar pound cake with caramel glaze, and Nancy Silverton's butterscotch budino with caramel sauce. Among the Toronto Star's picks is a Jamie Oliver recipe for broccoli with Indian-spiced yogurt. The Dallas News has an interesting collection of reader's biscuit recipes including hints on biscuit making. I haven't even begun to go through the Food and Wine lists but I did read that out of the 650 recipes published this year, these 90 were the editor's favorites.

Some of these newspapers require a free registration. And some of these recipes (notably those in the LA Times) quickly disappear into archives where they are available only at a cost so if you see something you think is interesting, print it out.

The Los Angeles Times' Ten Best Recipes of 2007

The Los Angeles Times' Runners-Up for the Best Recipes of 2007

The Seattle TImes' Ten Favorite Recipes From  2007

The Toronto Star's 2007 Golden Whisk Awards

San Jose Mercury News' Second Look at Favorite Recipes of 2007

The Dallas News' Top Ten Most Clicked Recipes of 2007

Chicago Tribunes' 10 Best Recipes of 2007

The Atlanta Journal Constitution's 2007 Golden Whisk Awards

Detroit Free Press Test Kitchen Favorites 2007

Tulsa World's Roundup of the Best Recipes of 2007

Food and Wine Best Recipes of 2007

Buttermilk Pralines

One of Baltimore's local, home-grown institutions is the Book Thing, an organization that gives away books. Anyone who has unwanted books can donate them, anyone who wants a book can have one. All the books are free and you're encouraged to take as many books as you'd like; the only stipulation is that the books cannot be sold and the inside cover of every book is stamped with "Not for resale. This is a free book."

Up until a couple of months ago my relationship with the Book Thing was one-sided. I donated only. But then fellow Baltimore City blogger Fairfax started posting about the wonderful design books she'd been finding there which prompted me to go see what the cookbook situation at the Book Thing was. This was a mistake.

I now have a new vice and I am making forays almost weekly.  I've found a number of interesting cookbooks including both a 1930 and a 1959 edition of The Fannie Farmer Cookbook in excellent condition, a 1940s edition of Clementine in the Kitchen, and volumes of Time Life's Good Cook series which was edited by Richard Olney. I've also discovered the world of Junior League Cookbooks

Junior League cookbooks, which have been published as fundraisers by Junior Leagues across the country since the 1940s, are a portrait of an era. They're great examples of culinary history -- a snapshot of the way a region eats during a period of time. The cookbooks I've acquired have all been from the 1960s and 1970s. Recipes are submitted by members (for the most part) and the contributors are almost without exception identified by their husband's name rather than their own. The recipes are a mixture of those based on the convenience foods of the day, cream-of-whatever soup casseroles and Cool-whip-jello-cake-mix desserts, or -- what interests me -- entirely home-made.

This recipe is from Cooking Through Rose Colored Glasses published by the Junior League of Tyler, Texas in 1975. I'd never heard of buttermilk pralines before -- in fact my entire experience with pralines up to this point amounted to one praline I'd purchased at the New Orleans airport 5 or 6 years ago -- but they sounded suitably exotic yet made with ingredients easily procured, and a fairly simple technique: 1 cup of buttermilk, three cups of sugar, 1 tsp of baking soda, cooked til it reaches the softball stage, add 3 tbsp of butter, 1 tsp of vanilla, and 1 cup of pecans. Beat til mixture loses its sheen and scoop out candies onto waxed paper. Easy, right? Ha!

I've now made five batches trying to get it all worked out for myself. On my first attempt one of the problems with Junior League cookbooks became immediately apparent --and in fact this is often a problem with older cookbooks which assume a level of expertise -- the recipes are brief, and salient points may be assumed to be understood and therefore not spelled out. Or perhaps the recipe's contributor, Mrs. John F. Warren, simply forgot to mention that the sugar mixture bubbles up vigorously and you need a large pot. The medium sized pot I'd started with seemed plenty large enough but in no time at all the sugar mixture had bubbled up and started to bubble over necessitating a change of pots mid-operation.

That batch was cement-like in appearance but delicious, my second batch was almost perfect, my third a total disaster that included sugar that scorched so badly it peeled the finish right off the interior of a Le Creuset french oven. (And who knew that could happen? My faith in Le Creuset's product is shaken.) Batches four and five while delicious were still not quite what I'm looking for which is something thinner and neater, more like the praline I purchased all those years ago at the New Orleans airport. I'm perfectly happy with how they taste, I'd just like them to look prettier.

But I'm done. I have to move on. So here is Mrs. John F. Warren's recipe modified somewhat based on consultation with Shirley Corriher's recipe in Cookwise and viewing a number of recipes on the internet which all seemed to be a variation of this one.

Buttermilk Pecan Pralines

1 cup of buttermilk
2 cups of sugar
1 tsp of baking soda
3 tablespoons butter
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 to 2 cups pecans (I use less than a 1 1/2  cups but some recipes use more)
Salt

1. In a large pot (I use a 6-quart pot) over medium heat, combine the buttermilk, sugar, and baking soda. Stir until the sugar is dissolved. Stirring occasionally, continue heating the mixture until it reaches 234 degrees on a candy thermometer. If you’re attempting this without a candy thermometer (and if you are, I admire your bravery) cook to the soft ball stage. This will take about 1/2 hour.

2. Meanwhile toast the pecans at 350 degrees for about 5 minutes. They’re ready when they become fragrant. Toss them with about 1 tablespoon of the butter, melted, and a pinch of salt.

3. When the sugar-buttermilk mixture reaches 234 degrees, take it off the flame and add the remaining butter, the vanilla, and a pinch of salt. Stir quickly and then add the pecans and stir again. As soon as you feel the mixture thicken in the slightest (you’ll also see it get less glossy) begin to spoon out the mixture onto parchment covered cookie pans. Work fast here because it’s my experience that this stuff wants to set up very, very quickly. If it does harden before you can get everything spooned out, return it to a low flame, add about a teaspoonful of water, and stir as it becomes liquid again, then continue to spoon out the pralines.

Popular wisdom seems to be that these don't set on humid days. I'm suspicious of this because these candies are so identified with New Orleans and as far as I can tell New Orleans has nothing but humid days. However I pass it along for what it's worth.

This leaves what looks like an impossible to clean mess in the pot you've used. To clean the pot, fill it with water and bring it to a simmer. The crusted sugar will magically disappear.