6 posts tagged “epicurious”
Linguist Deborah Tannen says: "There is a special intensity to the mother-daughter relationship because talk -- particularly talk about personal topics -- plays a larger and more complex role in girls' and women's social lives than in boys' and men's. For girls and women, talk is the glue that holds a relationship together -- and the explosive that can blow it apart. That's why you can think you're having a perfectly amiable chat, then suddenly find yourself wounded by the shrapnel from an exploded conversation."
For her book, You're Wearing That? Understanding Mothers and Daughters in Conversation, she interviewed dozens of women of varied geographic, racial and cultural backgrounds, and had informal conversations or e-mail exchanges with countless others. The complaint she heard most often from daughters was, "My mother is always criticizing me." The corresponding complaint from mothers was, "I can't open my mouth. She takes everything as criticism."
This sheds light on what happens when my mom and I get in the kitchen together. The most recent instance was
when I went down to visit her a few weeks ago and thought it would be fun to bake a pie together with nectarines we bought at the farmer's market. For the filling, I used this recipe from Bon Appetit, which calls for " 3 1/2 pounds firm but ripe peaches, peeled, halved, pitted, each half cut into 3 wedges." So as we begin preparing the ingredients, my mom asks, "Do we have to really peel all these peaches, or can we just blanch them and slip the skins off?" Now if I had been alone and thought to google peeling peaches for pie, I would have found that this is a time tested method for easily peeling stone fruit. But since it was my mom suggesting it, what I heard was, "Are you really going to be so prissy and ignorant as to peel this fruit by hand??" So of course I had to get all, "Mom!!! Can we just go by the recipe???" Yes, that's right, I made my poor little mom, who has arthritis in her thumbs by the way, peel 3 1/2 pounds of nectarines with a little veggie peeler out of pure defensiveness.
And that's nothing - you should have seen what happened over Christmas!
I had this big plan to make a 5 course Italian-style seafood feast for Christmas Eve dinner and then roast a duck for Christmas. The duck recipe involved boiling the duck in a ginger broth the day before and then letting it chill in the refrigerator overnight before crisping the skin in the oven the next day. So on December 24, while my mom and I were shucking oysters and preparing smoked salmon hors d'oeuvres and searing scallops to go over a balsamic frisee salad and cooking linguine with clam sauce and sauteeing garlic green beans and baking crab-stuffed shrimp, I also had to boil a duck.
Did I mention the duck was frozen? The recipe had instructed us to defrost the duck in the refrigerator the day before. But after 24 hours in the fridge, that duck was still rock hard. No biggie, since I was going to boil it anyway, but it did present a challenge extracting the packet of giblets and innards from the cavity. I used a combination of warm water and tongs to pry the bird open a few centimeters and wrench out the plastic packet before slipping the duck into the pot of boiling water. About 20 minutes later, in the midst of my seafood machinations, I came across the packet in the sink. "Orange Sauce for Duckling," it said on the front. "OH SHIT!!" I yelled. "That wasn't the giblet packet it was some dumb sauce! So now the giblets are probably still in there and the plastic packet is going to melt in the boiling water and wreck the whole thing!!" I grabbed the tongs and started fishing inside the boiling duck for the errant giblets.
Have you ever tried extracting a hidden packet of organs from the cavity of a duck submerged in boiling liquid? It's not easy let me tell you. "Just take the duck out of the pot, Robin!" my mom shouted. "But it's all wet and hot, it will fall apart if I try to take it out! I have to just do it like this!" I grabbed a silicon oven mitt and tried to grab hold of the duck to stabilize it. "Robin, get your hand out of that pot!" she yelled. Now in hindsight I can see that my mom actually had much better common sense than I did in this situation. But in that moment I did not want to hear criticism of an endeavor that was already on the brink of failure. "Mom just GET AWAY FROM ME AND LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!" I yelled. And then, you won't believe this, but my mom actually spanked me on the butt. Furious, I gripped the duck harder and plunged my tongs deep into the cavity. Just as I realized that it was empty, there was apparently no giblet packet at all, boiling water and duck fat surged over the rim of the silicon mitt and down my hand.
Fortunately my injuries were treatable with aloe and some bandaids and did not merit a trip to the ER. Cause that would have thrown my whole cooking schedule off for the night.
Compared with that episode, in the incident of the peach-bitching, we both came out relatively unscathed. And the pie was totally worth it. In fact, I think I'd willingly scald my hand for this pie. The caramel sauce is an absolutely divine touch. And on this my mom and I both agreed: this was the best peach pie we'd ever eaten.
Peach Caramel Lattice Crust Pie
Crust recipe from Rose Levy Berenbaum
Filling recipe from Bon Appetit via epicurious.com
Ingredients:
Pie Crust:
2 2/3 cups (13 oz) all purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
6 oz chilled cream cheese, cut into quarters
16 Tablespoons (2 sticks) frozen, unsalted butter cut into 1/2 inch cubes
4 Tablespoons heavy cream
4 teaspoons cider vinegar
1 egg
1 tablespoon sugar
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
Filling:
1 cup sugar, divided
1/2 teaspoon (scant) ground cinnamon
Pinch of salt
3 1/2 pounds firm but ripe peaches, peeled, halved, pitted, each half cut into 3 wedges
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1/4 cup water
2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) unsalted butter
2 tablespoons whipping cream
3 tablespoons all purpose flour
Instructions:
For pie crust:
In a food processor, combine 2 2/3 cups flour, sea salt and baking powder. Process to combine. Add cream cheese and process until coarse. Add the frozen butter cubes and process until butter is peanut size. Add the cream and vinegar and pulse until butter is the size of small peas.
Transfer mixture to a bowl and mix swiftly with a fork until dough holds together, about 5 minutes.
Place dough on a lightly floured surface and divide into 2 equal halves. Roll each piece into a ball and press the ball into a smooth, flat disc. Wrap each disc in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 45 minutes.
Position rack in center of oven and preheat to 375°F. Place foil-lined baking sheet in bottom of oven to catch any spills.
Roll out 1 pie crust disk on lightly floured surface to 13 1/2-inch round. Transfer to 9-inch-diameter glass pie dish. Trim overhang to 1 inch. Fold edges under and crimp decoratively, forming high rim (about 1/2 inch above sides of dish). Chill crust 30 minutes.
Meanwhile, line another baking sheet with parchment paper. Roll out second pie crust disc on floured surface to 13 1/2-inch round. Cut into 3/4-inch-wide strips. Place strips on prepared baking sheet. Chill while baking crust.
When well chilled, line crust with foil; fill with dried beans, pie weights, or even spare change. Bake crust until sides are set and pale golden, about 35 minutes. (While it’s baking, you can prepare the filling, below.)
Do not turn off oven. Transfer crust to rack; remove foil and beans/weights/change. Separate the egg, setting the yolk aside. Beat the egg white to blend, and brush it over the warm crust. Cool completely.
For filling:
Combine 1/2 cup sugar, cinnamon, and salt in large bowl. Add peaches and lemon juice and toss gently to coat. Let stand 30 minutes.
Meanwhile, stir remaining 1/2 cup sugar and 1/4 cup water in medium saucepan over medium heat until sugar dissolves. Increase heat; boil without stirring until syrup is deep amber, occasionally swirling pan and brushing down sides with wet pastry brush, about 11 minutes.
Remove from heat. Add butter and cream (mixture will bubble vigorously); stir caramel until smooth. Strain juices from peaches into caramel; cool to lukewarm.
When filling and crust are cooled, add caramel and flour to peaches in bowl; toss gently. Transfer filling to crust, mounding in center.
Prepare lattice crust. You can do this two ways.
The easy way is, arrange 6 of the chilled pie crust strips diagonally across the top of the pie, then place the remaining 6 pastry strips diagonally in opposite direction atop first 6 strips.
Of course, since my mom suggested this, I had to do it the hard way instead: for a woven lattice crust, arrange 6 dough strips in 1 direction across top of pie, spacing apart. Working with 1 strip at a time, arrange 6 more strips in opposite direction atop first, lifting strips and weaving over and under, forming lattice. (Pillsburybaking.com has a great diagram showing the easiest way to do this, as well as tons of other pie crust decorating tips.)
Gently press ends of strips to edge of baked bottom crust to adhere. Trim overhang.
Mix the egg yolk you set aside earlier with 2 teaspoons water and brush lattice strips (but not crust edge) with egg yolk glaze.
Mix together 1 Tablespoon sugar and 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon to make cinnamon sugar, and sprinkle it over the egg-washed strips.
Bake pie 35 minutes. After 35 minutes, tent pie loosely with foil to prevent overbrowning and continue to bake pie until filling bubbles thickly and lattice is golden brown, about 25 minutes longer. Cool pie on rack.
Serves 6-8 and creates mother-daughter harmony and possibly global peace. Or at least global peach.
However, we wily Jews can make lemonade out of any lemony situation, and have found a way to have our cake and eat it too, even during Passover.
The Torah says you're not allowed to eat any wheat, barley, rye, spelt, or oats that have come in contact with water for more than 18 minutes before being cooked. But if you mix together flour and water and cook it before 18 minutes elapses, then grind the resultant crackers back into powder, you can use that for baking cakes, dumplings, pancakes, or basically anything you like. This magical get-out-of-carbo-jail-free substance is commonly known as matzoh meal.
I will admit that I was not too optomistic about the prospect of a matzoh meal cake. The only Passover cake I'd heard of previous to this week was matzoh meal sponge cake. I was not enthused. I don't even like regular sponge cake - it's dry, rubbery, and tasteless. So taking dry, tasteless cake and substituting matzoh meal for the flour did not seem like a great culinary idea.
However, the idea of substituting ground nuts for the flour did seem like a good one. I made an almond cake a few weeks ago that was absolutely divine (soon I will get around to posting about it, I promise!) and something rich and nutty sounded like just the thing for Jorie's and my Sephardic-inspired seder menu. Fortunately epicurious.com has a wealth of great sounding non-sponge cake Passover dessert recipes. I decided to put two of them to the test this week.
The first one was a Honey Nut Cake, pictured above. Basically it's ground almonds and walnuts mixed with sugar, eggs, oil, and a little tiny bit of matzoh cake meal, baked, and then soaked in a honey-orange syrup. I tested this dessert on our dinner guests, Heather and Johnny, last Saturday night. Nutty, sweet, sticky, and vaguely Greek-seeming, this cake went perfectly with the yummy dessert wine Heather had brought from her collection. Everyone reached for seconds, so I considered the dessert a success.
Recipe note: If by any chance you cannot find matzoh cake meal (in Chicago look for it at Dominick's on Division) you can make your own by pulsing regular unsalted matzoh meal in a clean coffee grinder until it resembles the consistency of flour.
Honey Nut Cake
from A Treasury of Jewish Holiday Baking by Marcy Goldman via epicurious
Ingredients:
Cake
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup vegetable oil
3 eggs
3 tablespoons orange juice
1 teaspoon finely minced orange zest
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon ( or 1/2 teaspoon for a more pronounced cinnamon flavor)
1/2 cup matzoh cake meal
1/2 cup finely chopped hazelnuts or almonds
1 cup finely chopped walnuts
Soaking Syrup
2/3 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup honey
1/3 cup orange juice
1/4 cup water
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
Instructions:
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Generously grease a 7-inch round layer cake
pan (if you do not have one, you can use a round foil pan of the same
or similar size available in the supermarket baking aisle).
Cake:
In a medium-sized mixing bowl, using a wire whisk, beat the granulated
and brown sugars with the oil and eggs until the mixture is thick and
pale yellow. Stir in the remaining batter ingredients. Turn the batter
into the prepared pan.
Bake for 35 to 40 minutes, or until the top is light brown and set. Cool for at least 20 minutes. Meanwhile, prepare the Soaking Syrup.
Soaking Syrup:
In a medium saucepan, combine the ingredients. Heat to dissolve the
sugar and simmer for 5 to 10 minutes, until the mixture becomes syrupy.
Cool well.
Pour the cooled syrup over the cooled cake, poking holes in the cake
with a fork, to permit the syrup to penetrate. Allow it to stand for 2
to 4 hours to absorb the syrup. I prefer to refrigerate this cake so
that while it is absorbing the liquid, it is also firming up. Also,
chilling the cake offsets its sweetness and makes it easier to cut.
Serve it on splayed muffin liners.
Serves 10-12. To serve more, double the recipe and bake it in a rectangular 9x13 pan (or 2 round cake pans).
adapted from Gourmet magazine via epicurious
Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups walnuts (51/2 oz), toasted in a 275 degree oven for 15-20 minutes and cooled
1/2 cup matzo cake meal
8 large eggs, separated, at room temperature for 30 minutes
1 1/3 cups sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons finely grated fresh orange zest
1/4 cup fresh orange juice
1 teaspoon vanilla
4 oz bittersweet chocolate (not unsweetened), coarsely grated using 1/4-inch teardrop-shaped holes of a box grater, or just pulsed in a food processor if you find grating a candybar as much of a pain in the ass as I do.
Instructions:
Put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 350°F.
Insert bottom of a 10 inch springform pan upside down (so that turned-up edge faces down for easier removal of cake). Grease well and dust with matzo cake meal to coat.
Pulse walnuts with 3 tablespoons matzo cake meal in a food processor until nuts are finely chopped (be careful not to pulse to a paste). Add remaining 5 tablespoons matzo cake meal and pulse until mixture resembles a grainy flour.
Beat egg whites with a pinch of salt in a bowl with an electric mixer at medium-high speed until they form soft peaks. Add 2/3 cup sugar a little at a time, beating until whites just hold stiff peaks.
Beat together yolks and remaining 2/3 cup sugar with 1/2 teaspoon salt in a large bowl at medium-high speed until thick and pale, about 3 minutes in a standing mixer or about 5 minutes with a handheld. Fold in nut flour, then zest, juice, and vanilla. Fold grated chocolate into batter gently but thoroughly. Fold in one third of whites to lighten batter, then fold in remaining whites gently but thoroughly.
Pour batter into greased and dusted springform pan, smoothing top, and bake
until a wooden pick or skewer inserted in center comes out clean, 50
minutes to 1 hour. Cool in pan on a rack 15 minutes, then run a thin
sharp knife between cake and side of pan. Remove side of pan and cool
cake completely. Invert cake onto rack and run knife between cake and
bottom of pan to remove bottom, then flip onto a plate. If you like, top with lightly sweetened whipped cream.
Serves 8-10
After my arduous (though ultimately rewarding) baking experience last Wednesday, I decided to try a dessert this week that involved stovetop cooking rather than baking.
Not one for doing things the easy way, I chose to try my hand at making a sabayon. Also called zabaglione, this Italian custard sauce was invented about 500 years ago by the Umbrian mercenary captain, Giovani Paolo Baglioni, who was known in local dialect as "Zvan Bajoun." Without going into a whole Italian history digression, I will just say that he was basically the equivalent of today's Iraqi warlords. He organized an army of mercenary soldiers and laid seige to various city-states around the country. One challenge of leading a bunch of guys who have no underlying allegiance to your cause, as they would to a national army, is that they can be easily swayed to switch sides. Zvan Bajoun knew, as Ruth Reichl did, that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. And so on the eve of a major battle, when he felt dissention brewing in the ranks, he knew a first class meal was in order. Unfortunately, his reputation had preceeded him along the route to battle, and the farmers had already fled to the fortress, destroying any food they could not carry with them. All that was left was eggs, honey, wine, and some herbs. Zvan Bajoun, in his infinite wisdom, ordered his cooks to boil it all into a big soup. "Stir it well," he cautioned them. And thus this light frothy custard was born. The soldiers were so invigorated after eating this sweet, creamy meal, that they utterly decimated the town the next day. The villagers, thinking the soldiers would be weak and tired from not having anything to eat, asked in amazement what had given them to strength to fight so hard. The soldiers simply replied, "Zvan Bajoun," and that became the name of the dish. Over the years the name evolved to zambajoun, then to zabaglione, and when it travelled up the Alps, to sabayon.
The ingredients in the dish evolved over the years as well, the eggs being streamlined to just egg yolks, the honey being changed to sugar, and the wine and herbs being replaced by Marsala. The peach sabayon recipe I found on epicurious went back to the roots of the dish a bit by using dry white wine rather than Marsala, but then leapt into the modern age of fusion cuisine by adding peach brandy to the mix. The cooking technique has also been refined from Zvan Bajoun's original recipe - instead of boiling the egg mixture, you cook it in a bain-marie - a metal bowl set over simmering water - and use an electric mixer to beat the eggs rather than just stirring.
The recipe was actually pretty easy, the only hard part was holding my mixer over the stove for 11 minutes. It wasn't hard in terms of difficulty, just in terms of my arm got frickin tired after about five minutes. I tried switching to the left hand but everything just feels wrong on the left side and I couldn't see into the bowl as well. In the end it was worth a little muscle fatigue for this creamy, fluffy dessert sauce. The peaches, macerated in balsamic vinegar and sugar, were delicious as well, though I might wait til summer to make this again and hope for some better quality fruit than what you find in the Jewel in mid-February.
Balsamic Peaches with Peach Sabayon
adapted from Gourmet magazine, via epicurious.com
Ingredients:
3 medium peaches (1 lb total), halved, pitted, and each half cut into 6 wedges
2 teaspoons balsamic vinegar
1/4 cup sugar
4 large egg yolks
1/3 cup dry white wine
3 tablespoons peach brandy
Instructions:
Gently toss peaches with vinegar and 1 tablespoon sugar, then let macerate 30 minutes.
When peaches have macerated 15 minutes, combine yolks, wine, brandy, and remaining 3 tablespoons sugar in a large metal bowl set over a saucepan of barely simmering water and beat with a handheld electric mixer at medium-high speed for 11-12 minutes, until sabayon has tripled in volume and forms a thick ribbon when beaters are lifted. Remove bowl from saucepan.
Divide peaches among 4 bowls and top with sabayon.
Serves 4
I can't quite believe it yet, but despite the volumes of coleslaw we consumed last Sunday, the Bears lost the Superbowl.
(The S-word still seems to be verboten around here, or at least no one's talking about it; it's like The-Game-Which-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Or maybe we're all just conserving our breath to use for heat in these frigid conditions.)
At any rate, the fans at our party celebrated the Bears' season in grand style. When your husband is an artist, you become friends with the kind of people who consider everything a canvas, including a pan of brownies or a bowl of coleslaw. (Not to mention the cunningly stencil-decorated birthday cake and the inadvertent beer can volcano-fountains provided by my own artistic friends.) The brownies were decorated by Betsy to resemble a football field, complete with yardlines, goal posts, and two colors of plastic football players engaging in battle. And the coleslaw Matt and Rachel brought (yes, this is Matt of giant cheeseball fame) was created with orange and blue shredded veggies and topped with a C-logo like a Chicago Bears helmet!
Such valiant efforts in the kitchen deserved a reward, and there's nothing like a hot snack at halftime to refresh your cheering reserve. I prepared these breaded drumsticks before the game and stuck them in the oven a few minutes into the first quarter. (Right after our one awesome moment of the game: Devin Hester's final kickoff-turned-touchdown of the season).
Here's to moments of satisfaction, on the football field and off.
Oven Baked Drumsticks
adapted from Bon Appetit magazine, via epicurious.com
Ingredients:
4 slices of sandwich bread - I use rye but you can use any kind.
1 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese (about 3 ounces)
4 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
4 scallions, finely minced
1 tablespoon Hungarian sweet paprika
1 tablespoon dried oregano
2 teaspoons salt
1 1/2 teaspoons pepper
1 1/2 sticks (12 Tablepoons) butter
9 tablespoons Dijon mustard
24 chicken drumsticks
Instructions:
Preheat oven to 350°F.
Butter 2 large baking sheets.
Tear up bread into small chunks and pulse in food processor to create about 3 cups of very fine crumbs.
Combine breadcrumbs, Parmesan cheese, parsley, scallions, paprika, oregano, salt and pepper in large bowl and stir to blend.
Melt butter in small saucepan over medium-low-heat. Remove saucepan from heat. Add mustard and whisk to blend.
Brush drumsticks generously with butter mixture, then roll in breadcrumb mixture, coating completely. Arrange drumsticks on prepared baking sheets.
Bake drumsticks until golden brown and cooked through, about 1 hour. Serve warm or at room temperature.
Serves 24 for a halftime snack or 8 for dinner.
Rutabaga. Rutabaga, rutabaga, rutabaga. Fun to say, but are they fun to eat? Before I made this dish, I had only tried rutabaga once before, and I found it bland and peppery in an unappealing way. And I usually like root vegetables, even turnips, which are supposed to have a similar taste.
After my success with the cheesy turnip gratin, I decided to give rutabagas another try.
Clearly, my usual root veggie method - just roasting with olive oil and salt - wasn't going to cut it, as that was what I had tried before and didn't like. So I searched the internet for a new plan.
There are a lot of strange birds on the internet, if you haven't noticed. My go-to recipe site, epicurious.com, had several recipes for rutabaga. They even had several recipes for mashed rutabaga. Such a popular preparation must mean it's a good one, so I set about trying to find which recipe was the best. Thank goodness for those epicurious commenters, who rate every recipe on a 4-fork scale, and leave notes about what improvements they made.
One commenter, who calls himself "chef boyami," was particularly ebullient about his adaptation:
This recipe became the base for the Parr Rutabaga Royale. If you make this dish with my variation, I believe you would rate this a "4 fork" also. Prepare yourselves for the root that no longer needs to beg to make it to the table.
and then went on to outline a recipe that adds pureed sauerkraut, and nutmeg, ginger, cayenne pepper, and heavy cream to the original recipe (which was just boiled rutabagas mashed with butter).
The next commenter was like, "Is that a joke?" but then other people said it was actually great so I decided to try it. I adapted his recipe as follows:
Spicy Mashed Rutabagas
Jon, a total kraut lover, agreed. While I was cooking, he said the smell of the food gave him "emotional wood." I know they say the way to man's heart is through his stomach, but I never realized it was so literal! (Though to be honest, it may have been the smell of the pork he was noticing... um, this is starting to sound dirtier and dirtier so I better just end here.) Let's just say the dish was a success.
I actually make roasted beets somewhat often and it is my preferred method of cooking them but I wanted to try a different preparation this time. One night trying to fall asleep, I got the idea of beet carpaccio stuck in my head. The next day I looked around on epicurious.com and found a recipe.
Beet Carpaccio with Onion Marmalade
Adapted from Gourmet magazine, via epicurious.com
Ingredients:
4 large or 8 medium size beets (about 2 pounds with greens)
6 medium onions (2 lbs)
6 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon sugar
4 teaspoons balsamic vinegar
2/3 cup dry white wine
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 (1/2-lb) piece Parmigiano-Reggiano
Instructions:
Preheat oven to 400°F.
Trim greens from beets and reserve for another use. Scrub beets well and pat dry. Place beets on a large sheet of foil and sprinkle with olive oil. Wrap foil tightly into a packet. Place packet on a baking sheet and roast in oven until tender - about 1 1/2 hours.
While beets are roasting, slice onions by cutting in half lengthwise and then cutting horizontally into very thin slices. Melt butter in a large skillet. When foam subsides, add onions and stir to coat. Cover the pot and turn heat to low, stirring occasionally until onions are soft, about 20 minutes. Add salt, sugar, and vinegar and cook, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until onions are very tender and caramelized to deep brown, about 20 minutes more. Add wine and boil, stirring occasionally, until liquid is reduced to about 2 tablespoons, 3 to 5 minutes. Transfer mixture to a food processor and pulse to a coarse purée.
When beets are finished cooking, cool to warm in foil package about 15 minutes, and then use a paper towel or old kitchen towel to slip the skins off the beets, discarding stems and root ends.
[You can make the entire recipe up to this point ahead of time. Put the peeled beets in a sealed plastic bag and cover the marmalade and store them in the refrigerator until you are nearly ready to serve.]
Cut beets crosswise into 1/16-inch-thick slices with a mandoline slicer. [If they have been prepared ahead and chilled, stack the cold slices into 2 stacks, wrap with foil, and reheat in a 400-degree oven for about 10 minutes.]
Return onion marmalade to skillet and season with salt and pepper, then reheat, covered, over low heat.
Divide warm marmalade among 4 dinner plates and spread evenly in a thin layer to cover bottom of each plate. Arrange beet slices in 1 layer over onion, allowing them to fold prettily, like lunchmeat in a deli commercial. Drizzle a bit of olive oil over each serving and season with pepper. Shave 4 to 6 curls of Parmigiano-Reggiano with a vegetable peeler over beets on each plate. Serve immediately.
Serves 4 as a first course.
