Recently in Holidays

Tomorrow is (American) Thanksgiving. Every family has their own traditions and trimmings—my brother-in-law whips up a pot of gumbo, for instance—but a big turkey on the table is nearly universal. This recipe for Kālua-style turkey tastes authentic enough, but with the convenience of cooking in an oven.

Oven Kālua Turkey
Serves a small crowd.

• 12-20 lb. turkey (mine is 18 lbs. this time)
• 1/3 c. olive oil
• 2-3 T. coarse sea salt
• 2 t. liquid smoke
• 18 (or so) ti leaves. I didn’t have enough, so used banana leaves as well

Completely thaw turkey, remove necks and gibblets then wash the entire carcass thoroughly inside and out. Line a large roasting pan with about half of the ti leaves, overlapping then slightly so that the pan is completely blanketed. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Rub the turkey inside and out with the olive oil, then the sea salt then the liquid smoke. Place the bird in the roasting pan, breast side up.
 

Cover the turkey with the remaining ti leaves. If you can, tuck the leaves under the bird so that it is fully wrapped. If your leaves are young and small like mine, just do your best to overlap and get complete coverage. Cover the roasting pan with a double layer of aluminum foil and crimp the edges tightly so that it is as airtight as reasonably possible. Cook for six hours.

After six long, long hours have elapsed, remove the turkey, uncover, and let cool until it can be handled. The meat should literally be falling off the bone. Shred the meat with two forks then drizzle with pan juices. Serve with rice and a table full of trimmings.

Happy Thanksgiving!

'Til death do us part...

Friends of ours married tonight. Yes, on Halloween.

Downtown catered the reception in their space at the Hawaii State Art Museum, and the food was amazing. Appropriate for the evening, Pastry Chef Tracy shaped the rich and moist chocolate Guinness cake into a morbid graveyard. How often do you see wedding cakes adorned with tombstones?

Clearly, we've not been attending the right kinds of weddings before now.

"Morbid Halloween Attire. Costumes Preferred."

According to Christian tradition, hot cross buns are eaten on Good Friday as a symbol of the crucifixion. For whatever reason, my family makes them fresh on Easter morning as a light breakfast before the afternoon feast. I'm not going to tell you when you're allowed; you can bake 'em on Halloween if that's what makes your yeast rise.

This is another recipe from my Aunt Helene, carefully transcribed onto a 3x5 recipe card years ago.

Hot Cross Buns
Makes one dozen buns

• 4 c. flour
• 1/2 t. cinnamon
• 1/8 t. nutmeg
• 1 t. salt
• 1/4 c. sugar
• 1/2 c. candied fruit
• 1/2 c. butter, softened
• 1 c. milk, scalded
• 1 pkg instant yeast
• 1/4 c. warm water
• 1 egg, lightly beaten
• 1/2 c. powdered sugar
• 1/8 t. vanilla
• 2 t. milk

Sift flour and set aside. Place cinnamon, nutmeg, salt, sugar, candied fruit and 1/4 c. of the butter in a large bowl. Add scalded milk and allow to cool to lukewarm, stirring to dissolve salt and sugar and melt butter. Soften yeast in warm water and add along with beaten egg to cooled milk mixture.

Stir in 3 1/2 c. flour about one cup at a time, beating vigorously to blend. Add remaining 1/4 c. butter and mix well. Scrape dough from the side of the bowl and brush the top and sides of the dough with a little soft butter.

Cover dough and let rise in a warm place about two hours until doubled in size. Turn out on floured surface and knead lightly, adding flour until dough is no longer sticky. Shape dough into two dozen round buns. Place apart on greased baking pans, cover and let rise until doubled in size.

Slash top with sharp knife to form cross. Bake at 425 degrees for 10-14 minutes. Remove from oven and spread lightly with butter to keep top soft.

For the frosting, mix powdered sugar, vanilla and 2 t. milk until smooth. Fill crosses with the frosting.

Related sites
→ Sam prefers her British-style hot cross buns baked with golden syrup. I've never had them her way, but I'm sure mine are much better. (Knowing Sam, that's wishful thinking.)
→ Wikipedia entry for hot cross buns.
→ A history of hot cross buns.

Twice a year, at Christmas and Easter, I notice a surge of visitors seeking ham recipes. I'm all too happy to oblige. This recipe is the culmination of my quest to find a truly excellent ham preparation. You can read more about the start of my journey, and the moment of my enlightenment.

Guava-Glazed Ham
Serves an extended family

The ham:

• 20 lb fully cooked bone-in ham
• 2 liter bottle Coke

The glaze:

• 10 oz. jar Hawaiian Kukui guava jam (claims 99% Hawaiian ingredients-- maybe the pectin is imported?)
• 1/2 t. cinnamon
• 1/2 t. cloves
• 1/2 c. pineapple juice
• 1/4 coke stolen from the cooking ham
• healthy dash cayenne. i like a little heat

Cut the tough outer skin from the ham, leaving a thing layer of fat. Put the ham in a roasting pan, pour as much coke around as will fit without spilling over. Tent the ham with aluminum foil and simmer on the stovetop at medium heat for 3 1/2 hours (~10 min per lb).

While the ham cooks, prepare the glaze by mixing together all the ingredients in a saucepan. Simmer over medium low heat until the glaze has reduced by 1/3 to 1/2 then allow to cool thoroughly. Reserve half the glaze to serve alongside the sliced ham.

When the ham is done cooking on the stovetop, transfer it to a 400 degree oven and cook for another 30 minutes, brushing every ten minutes with the glaze. Remove the ham and let it set for 10 minutes before slicing. Reheat reserved glaze and serve with the sliced ham.

Two years ago, I also made an addictive mandarin orange cheesecake for Easter. Read it at your own peril, but don't blame me if you feel irresistibly drawn to baking it for yourself.

Goi cuon

Today is the start of the Chinese New Year, and what better way to being the Year of the Boar than by consuming a little pig. In Vietnam, the New Year is known as Tet. After several days or prepatory cleaning and wrapping up last year's loose ends, the start of the new year is celebrated with feasting while visiting family and friends. These spring rolls take prep time but are totally worth the effort.

Goi Cuon
Serves 6-8 as an appetizer

• 1/2 c. water
• 2 T. rice vinegar
• 15 large shrimp, peeled
• 1 T. cooking oil
• 2 cloves of garlic, minced
• 1/2 lb. lean pork, cut into this strips
• 1 T. nuoc mam
• 15 round rice paper wrappers

Choose a selection optional ingredients:

• small package of rice vermicelli, cooked and cooled
• bean sprouts
• fresh mint
• thai basil
• cilantro
• carrot, julienned
• lettuce (any mild variety with a flexible leaf)
• cucumber, cut lengthwise then sliced on an angle
• scallions cut into 2 inch lengths

Bring water and rice vinegar to a boil in a medium skillet. Add the shrimp and cook until done. Remove shrimp, reserving liquid, and reheat the pan over medium high heat. Add the cooking oil and heat until it almost smokes. Add the garlic and stir for ten seconds. Add sliced pork and sear for 2-3 minutes. Add the reserved shrimp liquid and the nuoc mam then simmer for ten minutes. Many recipes simply call for "cooked pork" but simmering it with the liquid infuses much yumminess. When the pork is done, set side to cool.

To assemble, run cold water over 3-4 rice wrappers and lay them on a flat surface. Lay down a lettuce leaf, a pork slice and a shrimp. Top with your preference of ingredients from the optional list then roll snugly, tucking in the loose ends.

Traditionally, goi cuon are served with a complicated peanut sauce, but I like them best with hoisin sauce and crushed peanuts.

As they say in Vietnam, Chuc Mung Nam Moi! Happy New Year!

Two years ago, I shared a fried spring roll recipe for Tet.

Valentines Day. Many people hate it, or at best endure it as a necessary but not quite pleasant obligation. Then there are the incorrigible romantics like me, itching for excuses to celebrate (and not just on February 14th). For us, a good celebration means good food and so Junko and I found ourselves at Chef Mavro for Valentines Day eating some of the best food on the island.

The menu has changed since our last visit but not the Mavro mojo. Favorite moments from our meal...

Most playful course: Fois Gras au Torchon, a technique where foie gras is cooked in a towel. The foie gras was then wrapped in seaweed and presented like nori sushi, if nori sushi tasted like heaven and had the smoothness of melted butter.
Best taste of the night: Braised Short Ribs on Truffle Accented Celery Root Purée. The meat was so tender it was just looking for any excuse to dissolve apart, and the purée was rich with the aroma of white truffles. Served alongside were brussel sprouts and the intended headliner of the plate, Kobe-style beef, but it was the short ribs that won our hearts and mouths.

Most memorable part of the evening: believe it or not it wasn't the food. The best part--besides my sweetheart, of course--was watching the other diners. Looking around the room we saw couples, some of whom were sitting here for the first time. Let's be honest for a sec. With the unfamiliar food and formal setting, fine dining can be intimidating. Yet I watched the same scene unfold at table after table. A new course would be presented. The couple would taste and smile, and in some cases literally laugh with delight. They may have started the meal nervously, but the enjoyment washed that all away.

No one really knows what happens in the kitchen back there but we were witnessing it's magic. The food was so delicious and fun that it helped diners to relax and enjoy their evening. I'm probably romanticizing again, but I like to think that tonight Chef Mavro helped convert a few more people from enduring Valentines Day to celebrating it.

Junko, Chef and me. Three is not a crowd.

Related posts:

→ Read about our first visit to Chef Mavro this past Fall.
→ Two years ago today we celebrated Valentines at Alan Wong's: A Dinner Drama in Four Acts.
→ The Winter 2007 menu
→ Chef Mavro opens new restaurant, Cassis Honolulu

Fireworks viewed from the Eva end of Waikiki

May your 2007 be even better than your 2006. Hauʻoli Makahiki Hou!

Junko whipped up this Frozen Grand Marnier Torte with Dark Chocolate Crust and Spcied Cranberries as the perfect end to our Christmas meal. She stayed faithful to the recipe and the result was truly beautiful.

When we make this torte again, we'll cook all the cranberries together. The instructions called for boiling half the cranberries then adding the other half fresh. That resulted in a few too many tart explosions in the middle of an otherwise impressive and festive dessert.

Mele Kalikimaka, everyone!

Wuz da nite befo' Christmas an' from hea to Wailuku,
No creetcha wuz stirrin' not even one uku.
Da Keikis wen snuggle down safe in da beds,
Big dreams of tofuti wen dance roun' da heads.
An' me wid my Primo an' Ma wid her poi,
We jus' settle down fo' one rap, - when oh Boy!
One awful big clatter come from da lanai,
I tink maybe coconuts wen fall from da sky.

I wen jump up so fas' I knock ova da chaia
I wen run to da windo to see what stay dea.
All ova da beach da kine silva moonlight
On da sand an' da sea it shinin' so bright,
I can see all da tings on da sho' plenty clea,
An' I see sumting out dea dat stay mo' plenty quea!

One tiny surfboard lyin' der on da groun'
An' eight tiny sea horses jus' swimmin' aroun'
An' one little ol surfer so lively, so quick, -
I wen tink to myself, "Ey, brah! Dat Saint Nick!"
He wuz chubby an' jolly, da kine roly poly,
An' dressed all in fur fro da chin to okole.

He had one white beard an' one little roun' belly
Dat went shake when he laugh like Tutu's guava jelly.
He wastin' no time, brah, he wen put down da sack
Dat wuz big as one mountain slung up on his back.
He got plenty good tings for all da keiki
An' he wen pile dem unda da coconut tree.

He work an' he work an' he neva pau hana
Til he put someting der fo' all da Ohana.
He wen give me one wink an' one shaka, an' - pau!
Da seahorses dey know it come time to go now!
He wen pick up da board an' he run to da ocean,
He wen harness da team an' he settem in motion.

Mo fasta dan jet planes da seahorses swum
He wen whistle an' shout an' he call 'em each one:
"Go Kimo, Go Noni! Gettum Kipo an' Lani!
Go Kona, go Pua! Geevum Kiki an' Nani"
To da cres of da wave, tru da foam an' da spray,
Dey swimmin' like crazy, dey flyin' away!

Til all I wen see on da wata out fa,
Wuz one twinkle of light like one dyin' out star.
But I hea ol Nick holla
Across da dark sea,
"Merry Christmas, da kine
Aloha Hawai`i!"

Copyright and written by Margaret Steele, with a book version available.

All across Hawaii, people are celebrating Thanksgiving by sitting down with friends and family for (most likely) a turkey with all the trimmings. Centuries before the Pilgrims and Native Americans celebrated the first American Thanksgiving with a harvest feast, Hawaiians had their own autumnal celebration.

I thought I was done with the whole cookie plate thang, but then I made a casual comment to my mom that I missed having toffee at Christmas this year. Mom spoke to my Aunt Helene, the designated toffee maker in our clan, and then a few days later I found myself standing over a hot stove with Aunt Helene, learning all about her toffee. This recipe isn't fancy or elegant, but it's a childhood favorite of mine.

Aunt Helene's Toffee

• 1 c. butter
• 1 c. brown sugar
• 1/2 c. chopped pecans or walnuts
• Some, um, chocolate chips. I don't know how many, but less than a standard bag

Lightly grease an 8x8 pan, then sprinkle a tablespoon or two of nuts evenly across the bottom of the pan.

Heat butter and brown sugar in a saucepan over medium heat, until the temperature reaches a soft crack (270 degrees). Helene says this takes 15 minutes. Stir in all except 1-2 tablespoons of the nuts, then pour into the pan. Let the candy rest for one to two minutes, then evenly sprinkle chocolate chips over the surface until most of the toffee is lightly covered. Wait until the chocolate has melted, then smooth with a spatula and sprinkle with reserved nuts. Allow to cool completely before cutting into squares.

At first glance, it all looks familiar. Trees are decorated with bright lights. Santa makes his appearances at the local shopping malls. It's impossible to find parking at those same shopping malls.

But then the closer visitors look, the more they notice subtle differences: the food, the activities, the carols. We do everything in Hawaii a bit differently than the rest of the world, including our Christmases. This carol below is a local favorite, dusted off year after year and sung with glee, laughter, and often much confusion as people forget specific days.

I leave you with The Twelve Days of Christmas, local style. Mele Kalikimaka, everyone!

Read more about the history of this song.

It looks like downtown Honolulu, but is actually Christmas in the Park, San Jose. What does this have to do with food? Absolutely nothing, except that I'll be eating my way through the San Francisco Bay Area for the next week or so while spending Christmas with family.

An old stand by, caramel corn can be stuffed into festive little bags as gifts alongside a cookie plate. Simple but loved.

Caramel corn

• 1 c. margarine, melted
• 2 c. brown sugar, packed
• 1/2 c. corn syrup
• 1 t. salt
• 1/2 t. baking soda
• 1 t. vanilla
• 8 quarts popped corn, without butter, salt, etc

Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Melt margarine then mix in brown sugar, corn syrup and salt. Bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring constantly. Let cook and gently boil for five minutes without stirring further. Remove from heat and stir in baking soda and vanilla. Pour mixture over pop corn and place in oven. Immediately turn heat down to 250 degrees and bake 1 hour, stirring every 15 minutes.

Rosettes are a Scandinavian treat common around the holidays. Thin batter is deep fried in the shape of delicate snowflakes and stars, then dusted with sugar. You'd think frying process would make these heavy and oily but properly made, each are as light, airy and delightfully crisp.

Rosettes
Special equipment: a rosette iron, pictured below

• 2 eggs
• 1 c. flour
• 1 c. milk
• 1 t. sugar
• 1/4 t. salt
• 1/4 t. baking soda
• 1 can Crisco shortening
• marble sized piece of parrafin wax (in the canning section)
• sugar for dredging

Thoroughly mix eggs, flour, milk, sugar, salt and baking soda. Pour through a strainer to remove any lumps then refrigerate at least 2-3 hours. You don't want any bubbles in the batter, because they'll cause swiss cheese holes in your rosettes.

Heat the shortening and wax over moderate heat to about 370 degrees. You want it hot, but not too hot. You'll know you've got a good temperature, even without a thermometer, when it takes 30-45 seconds for a rosette to turn golden brown.

Warm the rosette iron in the oil then dip halfway down in to the batter. Don't let the batter come over the top side of the iron or you won't be able to get the rosette off in one piece. Pull the iron out of the batter and dip it back a second time. Place the battered iron in the hot oil and hold it there for 10-15 seconds, then lift it slightly to get the rosette to release and float free. Remove cooked rosettes to brown paper and let the oil drain off them. While still warm, dredge each rosette through a bowl of sugar. Store stacked in an airtight container lined with paper towels.

These cookies will be making an appearance on the cookie plates.

Stupid name; great tasting little cookie. My family has been making these at Christmastime for as long as I can remember.

• 1/3 c. butter
• 1/2 c. sugar
• 1 t. lemon peel, grated
• 1 t. vanilla
• 1 egg
• 2 T. milk
• 1 c. flour
• 1/2 t. baking powder
• 1/4 t. baking soda
• 1/4 t. salt
• 1/2 c. raisins, chopped
• 1/2 c. walnuts, chopped
• 2 1/2 c. Wheaties cereal, crushed
• About 20 candied cherries, cut into halves

Cream butter, sugar, lemon peel and vanilla. Mix in egg and milk. Sift together flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt in a separate bowl, then mix into batter. Stir in raisins and nuts. Form small balls of dough using two spoons and coat in crushed Wheaties.

Place on an greased cookie sheet, and top each ball with a cherry, pushing halfway down into the dough. Bake at 400 degrees for 12 minutes. Cool slightly before removing to a wire rack.

These cookies will be making an appearance on the cookie plates.

Basically a peanut butter cookie topped with a Hershey's Kiss, these are particularly popular with kids. But then, what cookie isn't?

Kiss Cookies

• 1 3/4 c. flour
• 1 t. baking soda
• 1/2 t. salt
• 1/2 c. butter
• 1/2 c. creamy peanut butter
• 1/2 c. sugar
• 1/2 c. brown sugar
• 1 egg
• 1 t. vanilla
• 1 bag Hershey Kisses

Sift together dy ingredients. In a separate bowl, cream butter and peanut butter, then mix into dry ingredients. Mix in sugars, then finally mix in egg and vanilla.

Shape into small balls and place on ungreased cookie sheet. Bake at 350 degrees for 10 - 15 minutes. Place a Hershey Kiss on top of each cookie, pressing it in slightly. Return cookies to the oven for another 2 - 5 minutes.

These cookies will be making an appearance on the cookie plates.

As if the Christmas season isn't busy enough already, my wife has decided we're giving plates of Christmas cookies to everyone who has been even a little bit nice to us this year. I actually thought this was a great idea... until we started baking. We've been working at it for days and have only enough cookies to give to half of Honolulu. Do I sound like a scrooge? Baking up holiday cheer is hard work!

We're filling our cookie plates with a mix of vintage family recipes, as well as new discoveries from the recent Virtual Cookie Swap (check out the wrap-up: part one and part two). I'll be posting a couple of the family recipes here so that I have a more permanent record this time and don't have to keep calling home for them. Mom, I'm sorry I'm giving your recipes away to the world, but after this you won't have to keep reciting the same ones to me year after year.

Candy Cane Cookies

Simple, almost kitsch, but people like 'em. I prefer the almond flavoring to the peppermint.

• 1 c. sugar
• 3/4 c. butter, softened
• 2 eggs
• 1 1/2 t. almond or peppermint extract
• 2 1/2 c. flour
• 1 t. baking powder
• 1/2 t. salt
• 1/2 t. red food coloring
• extra sugar for dusting the tops

Mix sugar, butter, eggs and almond (or peppermint) extract. Sift together dry ingredients and add to batter. Divide the dough in half and tint half with the red coloring. Cover and refrigerate at least one hour.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Take one teaspoon of each color and form into four to six inch ropes by rolling them back and forth alongside each other on a floured board. Lightly press the two ropes together and twist. Place on an ungreased cookie sheet and curve the top down to form the hook of the cane.

Bake 7-10 minutes, then dust with sugar while still warm. Let cool completely before removing from the cookie sheet.

These other family recipes will also be sharing the limelight on our cookie plates:
→ Caramel Corn
→ Cherry Winkies
→ Kiss Cookies
→ Frosted Gingerbread Cookies
→ Mandarin Orangettes (not really a family recipe)
→ Penuche
→ Rosettes
→ Spiced Nuts

Spiced nuts. When you're walking through the mall and the fresh aroma of spiced nuts grips you, it can be irresistable. Darla from Messy Cucina recently attempted to recreate those roasted nuts one finds in shopping malls, but they weren't quite what she remembered. I made an attempt of my own, and then gave up and called Mom. Of course she was able to dig into her files and pull out her own recipe for spiced nuts. These may not match your memory of spiced nuts from the mall, but that's because these taste even better.

According to Mom, this recipe originally appeared in the Pet Milk Book, a cookbook whose recipes all featured... wait for it... Pet Evaporated Milk. This was a more common marketing strategy in the earlier half of the twentieth century in which manufacturers issued their own cookbooks to boost sales. The proportions are from the original recipe, but the instructions are mother's.

Spiced Nuts

• 1 c. sugar
• 1/2 t. cinnamon
• 1/3 c. evaporated milk
• 1 1/2 c. pecans (or walnuts, almonds, etc.)
• 1/2 t. vanilla

Mix together the sugar and cinnamon, then add the evaporated milk. Heat to 236 degrees, stirring constantly, or until a few drops form a soft ball when dropped into cold water. Remove from heat.

Add nuts and vanilla. Stir until mixture can no longer be stirred. Turn out on wax paper and separate the nuts into small pieces with the fingers. This'll burn your finger tips, but must be done quickly before the candy fully hardens. They'll cool quickly, and are best eaten within a few days.

The American version of Thanksgiving is something of an adopted tradition in the Hawaiian islands, not becoming an official holiday until the last century. Long before the Pilgrims celebrated their first Thanksgiving, Hawaiians were celebrating a harvest festival of their own called Makahiki, culminating with a feast that could last as long as a week. People in the islands understand how to throw a good party, then and now.

Without further ado, the top ten reasons Thanksgiving is better in Hawaii.

10. Poi - This paste made from pounded taro root is hardcore comfort food.

9. The Weather - While most of the country bundles up against the cold, it'll still be warm enough to wear shorts to dinner.

8. Poke - No occasion is complete without poke.

7. Easy Travel Regardless of whose house you're at for Thanksgiving, the drive home is a short one. (We live on an island!) No two or three hour treks back from Grandma's house.

6. Portuguese Sausage Stuffing - One word: yum.

5. After Dinner Walks - Take a stroll after the Big Meal... on the beach.

4. Evening Ukuleles - People are stuffed and lazy. Conversations are slowing down. Then out come the ukes for laidback sing-a-longs. Eventually, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" gets played, and it sounds good every single time.

3. Mixed Plate - American, Japanese, Portuguese and Chinese foods sit on the table alongside local specialties, and no one really notices how unusual that would be in many parts of the country. That's just normal here. We're so blessed.

2. Extended `Ohana - Even in a place known for its aloha, Thanksgiving brings out the warmth of people. I've lost track of the number of different families that have invited us into their homes for Thanksgiving meal, treating us as if we were their own blood. With most of our own family far away, that means a lot.

1. Kalua Turkey - Rub a turkey down with Hawaiian salt, wrap it well in ti leaves then bake it in an imu. The result is all the flavor of smoked turkey, but with the juiciest bird you will ever taste. The meat melts in your mouth, and you can't help keep picking at the platter even after dessert has come and gone.

There you have it, ten reasons Thanksgiving here rocks. Anything I missed?

Despite the tongue-in-cheek list above, I do understand that there are fantastic Thanksgiving celebrations in other places besidse Hawaii. Consider it my own way of showing thankfulness more than a slight against your own home. Where ever we are, today is a day to spend with friends and family, recognizing all the little things for which we're grateful.

Hau'oli Lā Ho'omaika'i!

When our son hit his first birthday last year, my wife and I didn't have to do a thing. Grandma orchestrated the party. If you don't have a grandma, I recommend you get one for kid party planning if nothing else. This past weekend marked the second birthday-- but the first we had to throw ourselves. The amount of work nearly killed us.

Oh sure, it could have been easier if I hadn't insisted on throwing a beach picnic for thirty people, cooking everything myself, coordinating activities for sugar-saturated kids and making my first ever themed cake. And check out this piñata my wife made. It's dolled up better than a float in the Rose Parade. By the time we made it through several days of prep work and then a party that lasted all Saturday long, we were dead on our feet.

I'd like to take creative credit for the cake, but for our first effort we stuck very close to an online recipe. (No wisecracks about it being from Woman's Day magazine-- Google knows no gender.) For future reference, frozen pound cake sucks. It had all the flavor of soggy cardboard. Fortunately, toddlers aren't as discriminating as long as the cake is sweet. The blue truck was a huge hit with them, and by extension, their parents.

That's right, everyone loved the truck cake! Loved it. Already I'm thinking about how to make next year even better. Better ingredients, a little more experience. How quickly we forget the hard work when basking in appreciation...

The practice started back in college. As holidays rolled around, those of us too far from families would gather together for a communal holiday feast. We started our tradition because going home wasn't always an option, but it never, ever had the stink of desperation of loneliness. Friends drew together because we liked it and we wanted to. Exact attendance would vary right until the last minute, but Thanksgiving and Easter each average about a dozen people. No matter where we've lived, we've tried to bring along this joy of eating in the company of "extended family."

Last night was no different. In the end, we had 15 plus a toddler crowded around a table for six, eating, drinking, talking story and laughing. Dinner was an uber-traditional turkey (second in Easter popularity only to ham), stuffing, yams, mashed potatoes, black-eyed peas, asparagus, deviled eggs, macaroni and cheese, cranberry sauce, coconut cake, brownies, cheesecake and more bottles of wine than I care to count. It wasn't really about the specific food though, but why the food mattered. Daring menus work better on other nights-- for holidays, people are drawn to comforting meals of their pasts, recreated with new friends. Gathered for a relaxing evening, this was the best Easter in memory.

I personally made several items for our feast, but my favorite was the Mandarin Orange Cheesecake. I honestly have no idea where I first acquired this recipe. Looking at the spotted and stained photocopy, I'm guessing it came from a decade old cooking magazine, but there is no attribution. I've also lost the second page with the actual instructions and have made numerous small changes from the original. I'm going to loosely claim this permutation as my own.

Mandarin Orange Cheesecake

Crust:

• 2 oz coarsely grated semisweet chocolate
• 1/2 stick unsalted sweet cream butter, melted
• 7-8 chococate graham crackers, crumbled (1 1/4 c.)

Cheesecake:

• 4 8oz. packages cream cheese at room temp
• 1 1/4 c. sugar
• 4 eggs
• 5 T. Grand Marnier
• 1 c. sour cream

Topping

• 2 11oz. cans mandarin oranges, liquid reserved
• 1/2 c. fresh orange juice
• 1 t. lemon juice

In a double boiler over simmering water, melt chocolate. Remove chocolate from the boiler and stir in the melted butter. Add the wafer crumbs and mix well. Take this mixture and press it firmly into the bottom of a 9 inch springform pan. I found it helpful to wet my fingertips for the intial pressing, refrigerate for 15 minutes, then press again to smooth it out even better. Refrigerate for an hour until cooled.

You need an electric mixer for this next part. You really do. Whip the cream cheese at medium until smooth and creamy. Gradually add sugar beating constantly. Add the eggs one at a time, beating constantly. Add the Grand Marnier, beating constantly. Add the sour cream and... beat constantly. Then beat it another minute or two for good measure. You want this to be creeeeeeeeeamy.

Pour the cheesecake mixture into the springform pan and bake in a 350 degree preheated oven for 35 minutes. The top of the cheesecake should lose its gloss, but the middle will still be wobbly. Stop! Don't take it out. Turn off the oven and leave the cheesecake in there with the oven door about half open. I'm not exactly sure why this is so important, but it has been deeply ingrained into me that cheesecakes must be cooled ever so slowly. When the cheesecake has cooled enough that you can remove it without oven mitts, remove it, set it on a rack and cool it to room temperature. Finally, transfer to the refridgerator and cool several hours more.

While the cheesecake is cooling in the fridge, prepare the glaze. Bring the orange juice, lemon juice and 1/4 of the reserved mandarin syrup to a simmer in a small saucepan. Stir periodically for about five minutes until it thickens. Let it cool to nearly room temperature.

Lay the mandarin oranges neatly on top of the cheesecake and then pour as much glaze as needed over the top. Return to the refrigerator and cool yet again. Finally, save your calorie counting for another time. This is not the dessert for that. Cut yourself a decent slice!

My mother loves her holidays; she really does. Halloween would see our house decked out in skeleton cutouts and fake spiderweb gauze. For dinner that eve, we'd slurp her pumpkin soup. Easter would be draped in pastel eggs and chocolates. Christmas... let's just say the number of different cookies she makes could feed entire towns.

We don't have a drop of Irish blood in us, but St. Patrick's Day with mom invariably involved at least one green meal. If it was breakfast, it would be green eggs (and ham!) or green pancakes, in deformed clover shapes no less. Dinners were more challenging-- how would one turn chicken green? I remember corn beef and cabbage a couple years. Mercifully the meat was left it's "natural" color, but nearly everything else was fair game. Mashed potatoes got a few drops of food coloring. Milk was transformed to a bright green, and flavored with a splash of peppermint extract. Dessert? Instant pistachio pudding.

It's been more than a decade since I've spent St. Patrick's Day with my parents, but I still reminisce about our green cuisine each March. Even as a child I knew it was corny, but I loved it. I liked that we could celebrate anything, that it could be so fun and that our food could take on the ungodly hues of frogs and boogers.

Any green in tonight's dinner will come from chlorophyll, not artificial coloring but maybe, just maybe, when Toshi gets older I'll tint his rice or milk a wonderfully hideous green.

In honor of Chinese New Year today, known in Vietnam as Tet, I'm making a batch of Vietnamese egg rolls. Called nem ran in the North and cha gio in the South, these tasty little packages of pork and shrimp are commonly available in markets and are considered one of Vietnam's national dishes. Most families don't make them at home except around special occasions, due to the amount of work involved in hand rolling large quantities.

Cha gio include at a minimum ground pork, crab, dried tree ear, egg and cellophane noodles wrapped in rice paper then deep fried. Other recipes may add whole or chopped shrimp, bean sprouts, spring onions, bell peppers or whatever strikes the cook's imagination.

One of my favorite Vietnamese dishes incorporates cha gio. Bun cha gio is a bowl of rice noodles topped with cha gio, fresh herbs, chopped peanuts and nuoc cham (see below). When served on their own as an appetizer, cha gio are are often accompanied by a plate of xalach dia: fresh lettuce, thai basil, cilantro, bean sprouts and chopped peanuts. One loosely wraps a warm cha gio in lettuce with a selection of the other condiments and then dips the roll into nuoc cham before eating.

Not frightened off yet? Well then this is how they're made.

Cha Gio

• 1 lb. ground pork
• 1/2 lb. cooked crab, imitation is fine
• 2 T. dried tree ears, I was out but substituted shiitake mushroom
• 1 1 1/8 oz. package cellophane noodles
• 1 medium onion, minced
• 1 medium carrot, shredded, rinsed and squeezed dry
• 3 eggs
• 1/2 t. salt
• 1/2 t. pepper
• 30ish triangle rice paper wrappers
• vegetable oil for frying

Soak the tree ears in hot water until soft, about five minutes. Drain and mince. Cover the cellophane noodles in cold water for five minutes until flexible. Drain the noodles, cut with scissors into 1 inch lengths. Mix together the pork, crab, tree ears, onion, carrot, salt, pepper and one of the eggs.

Beat the remaining two eggs in a small bowl. Lay out the rice papers several at a time on a flat surface. Brush both sides with egg, then let them soften for two to three minutes. Place a rounded spoonful of filling in each wrapper, near the curved bottom edge of the triangle. Fold that bottom edge up over the filling to form a snug log shape. Fold the two side corners tightly into the middle and smooth them down. Roll the log towards the remaining triangle point. Set completed rolls aside, but don't let them touch! If they touch together at this stage, it's like super glue.

In a large pan, heat 1/2 inch of oil at medium high until about 350 degrees. I don't have a deep fry themometer, so I put a small drop of water in the oil at the start. When the water crackles, I know we've reached 212 degrees. I then wait a slightly shorter length of time again to approximate 350 degrees. It's imprecise, but good enough. Fry the rolls a dozen at time until golden brown, turning as needed. Drain on paper towels, then serve hot or at room temperature with nuoc cham.

Nuoc Cham

• 1 or 2 small red chiles
• 1/2 c. fish sauce, also known as nuoc mam
• 1/4 c. fresh lime juice (2-3 limes)
• 1 small shredded carrot, rinsed and squeezed dry
• 2 minced cloves of garlic
• 1/2 c. sugar
• 1 1/2 c. warm water
• 2 T. minced cilantro (optional)

Nuoc cham is a very versatile sauce that accompanies almost every Vietnamese dish. It will keep refrigerated for up to a week.

Mix everything together and stir until the sugar dissolves. The cilantro is not a standard ingredient but I'm taking my nuoc cham to Hawaiian language class tonight, where a full xalach dia plate isn't practical. Adding the cilantro into the sauce instead captures some of the same flavor.

If you've actually read all the way through this, you've been amazingly patient. Please drop me a note if you decide to make cha gio and nuoc cham-- I'd like to know how well I described the process.

Chuc Mung Nam Muoi! (Happy New Year!)