9 posts tagged “original recipes”

grilledpork

I have trouble playing nice in the kitchen. 

When Jon cooks dinner, he frequently has to banish me from the room because I just can't seem to stop myself from giving helpful "suggestions," and "constructive" criticism, which understandably drives him completely crazy.

In my defense, Jon has a habit of not reading instructions, whether they be for putting together an IKEA bookshelf, making cinnamon rolls, or operating machinery.  He has that weird male thing of taking a sense of pride in innately knowing how to do something he has never attempted before.  Unfortunately that sense is not always so innate as one hopes. 

We've even had flare-ups over the grill I got him for his birthday last year (no pun intended).  I had noticed Jon's admiration of his uncle, who has a full scale smoker in his backyard in Evanston, and takes great pride in his mad barbecue skillz.   My intention was to give Jon a place where he could be master of the realm, cooking-wise.   But when our burgers would take forever to cook because all the briquettes were piled on one side of the grate when it says RIGHT ON THE BAG OF CHARCOAL that you're supposed to spread out the coals before cooking if you want direct heat, I couldn't keep my fat trap shut.  Yes, I admit it here on the internet: I am a controlling, annoying nag.  But honestly, if he would just read those darn directions...  

The only thing that matches the intensity of boys' hatred of directions is the intensity of their love of electronic gadgets and watching videos on the internet, and this was our saving grace.  Before our latest cooperative culinary endeavor, I went out and bought a fancy instant-read meat thermometer (something I'd been wanting for a while actually), and Jon found this video on proper grilling techniques which we watched together.  

Determined once and for all not to interfere, I handed him the pork I'd been marinating in the fridge all day, and went inside to make couscous.

Soon, though, I longed to be having a cocktail on the back porch, chatting amiably with my husband.  This was what I have always dreamed of when I imagined cooking with a partner.  Cocktails, friendly banter, and handing each other utensils or ingredients as we make a delicious meal together.  Was this too much to ask?   I headed outside with my rum and ginger ale and an onion to chop for salad.  And guess what?

We had our best night cooking together ever.  We chatted, drained our cocktails, I made salad and prepared asparagus for the grill, Jon read me Red Sox anecdotes from his new library book and made more cocktails in between supervising the meat and vegetables on the grill, and in the end I didn't worry one bit about the food.  And naturally, this turned out to be the best pork that we've ever had, on the grill or elsewhere.  It was crispy on the outside, but inside the meat was juicy and soft as butter, and the sauce was sweet, tangy and spicy, a perfect accompaniment.  I can't wait to make it together again.

Grilled Pork Tenderloin with Mango-Soy-Ginger Marinade
Ingredients:
1 medium size onion, finely chopped
2 Tablespoons pure olive oil
3/4 cup dry white wine or dry vermouth
3 Tablespoons soy sauce
1 Tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1 Tablespoon fresh grated ginger
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 cup mango chutney
1 12-16 oz. pork tenderloin

Instructions:
Heat oil until shimmering and then add onions.  Turn heat to low and cook onions until very tender, about 10 minutes.  Let cool 5 minutes.

In a medium size bowl, combine the cooked onions and the rest of the ingredients except for the pork.  Stir well to combine and then pour into a ziploc bag.  Put the pork tenderloin in the bag and seal.  Shake well to thoroughly coat the pork.  Allow pork to marinate for at least six hours, or up to 24 hours.

About 45 minutes before dinnertime, start your grill.  When the coals reach medium heat (when you can just stand to hold your hand over the grill for about 5 seconds), put the pork on the grill.  Turn frequently, cooking until the pork reaches an internal temperature of 140F, about 35 minutes. 

Meanwhile, take the remaining marinade and heat it in a saucepan on the stove.  (Or have your cooking partner do this, while you hang out by the grill, sipping your cocktail and turning the meat.)  Bring the sauce to a full boil until it is reduced to a nice thick sauce.  Pour it into a little bowl and set aside.

When the pork is ready, remove from grill and let it sit.  The temperature of the meat will continue to rise for the first few minutes, and then it will begin to cool and the juices will absorb back into the tissues.  After about 10 minutes, when the meat has begun to cool a little, carve into 1/2 inch thick slices and fan 4-5 slices on each plate.  Pour the carving juices into your bowl of sauce, swirl to combine, and spoon the sauce over the pork.   Serve the bowl of sauce at the table because you will probably want more.  It tastes good on grilled asparagus and couscous too!

Serves 2-3

golden beet salad

I almost can't believe I once hated beets.  I hated them so much that when I was five I actually faked vomiting during dinner to avoid eating beet soup.  I crammed my mouth full of food (non-beet food, that is), then leapt from my chair and ran urgently to the bathroom.  I made some heaving noises and spit my chewed up food into the toilet, and then walked back into the dining room with my best serious expression on my face.  "Mom," I whined, "I just threw up."  My mom, unflappable, said, "Robin, if you had actually thrown up you'd be a lot more upset than that.  Now sit down and eat your borscht."

Thank goodness I've come around to appreciate these scrumptious jewel-like vegetables for the delicacy they are.  And like a good convert, I'm out there preaching to the masses.  I've already convinced my husband and my friend Heather to see the light and welcome beets into their lives.  This photo alone is making me salivate, so maybe I'll reach some more heathen beet-haters with this yummy recipe.  Sit down and eat your beets, people.

Golden Beet Salad with Crushed Pistachios and Lemon Shallot Vinaigrette
Ingredients:

• 2 lbs golden beets
• 1 shallot, finely minced
• juice from 1/2 lemon
• 3/4 teaspoon salt
• freshly ground black pepper
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 small head butter lettuce, rinsed and dried
• 3 tablespoons salted shelled pistachios, coarsely chopped or crushed (you can crush them by placing them in a plastic baggie and then smashing the bag with the bottom of a heavy pan)
• freshly ground black pepper

Place beets in a single layer on a large piece of tinfoil.  Fold edges of foil over to create a tightly sealed packet and place on a baking sheet.  Roast for 1 1/2 hours.  Remove from oven, open packet slightly and allow to cool 15 minutes. 

When beets are cool enough to handle, use an old dishtowel to gently slide off the skins.  Dice the skinned beets into 1/2 inch cubes.

Whisk together the lemon juice, shallot and salt.  Add the oil and whisk to blend. 

Toss the whole lettuce leaves in the dressing and place three or four leaves on each of four plates.

Toss the cubed beets in the remaining dressing and place a hearty scoop onto each plate of lettuce.

Sprinkle with crushed pistachios and if you wish, some crumbled goat cheese.  Top with freshly ground pepper and serve.

Serves 4

scallops with cauliflower puree

Sometimes the old chestnut comes true: necessity is the mother of invention.  We had some friends over for dinner last Saturday, and I was all set to make this scallop dish from Living, when I realized halfway through the process that it wasn't going to work out.  I couldn't use my oven to bake the scallops, as directed, since I was already making a souffle in there and was ordered by Julia Child not to open the door for 20 minutes.  Also I didn't have any capers for the relish, or any jerusalem artichokes to roast for a crispy topping.  (It's true, I can be very disorganized in the kitchen!)

So I made it up my own way.  I decided to substitute crispy fried shallots for the jerusalem artichokes, and chopped green olives for the capers.  I pan seared the scallops instead of roasting.  And it turned out absolutely great!  (Unlike my souffle, which looked gorgeous when I took it out of the oven, but in the five minutes it took for us to finish our scallops, it sank like a well.  Can't win em all I guess!)

Pan-Seared Scallops with Cauliflower Puree
Ingredients:
For the puree:
1 head cauliflower
2 cups chicken broth

For the scallops:
8 large sea scallops (about 1 lb.)
1 tablespoon butter
salt
pepper

For the topping:
2 shallots, sliced thin
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 cup parsley, finely chopped
1/4 cup green olives, finely chopped
juice from 1/2 lemon

Instructions:
For relish, combine chopped parsley, olives, and lemon juice and stir until well mixed.  Set aside.

Cut cauliflower into 1 inch pieces.  Boil in broth until tender, about 20 minutes.  Puree in blender, or in the pot using an immersion blender.  Salt and pepper to taste.  Return to pot.

Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in a small pan until very hot.  Add in sliced shallots and turn heat down to medium high.  Stir occasionally until the shallots are browned and crispy.

Sprinkle scallops with salt and pepper.  In another pan, heat 1/2 tablespoon butter until it is fully melted and beginning to brown.  Add 4 of the scallops, flat side down.  Adjust heat to keep the butter from burning.  Do not touch the scallops for 2 minutes.  When they are well browned, turn scallops using tongs.  Cook until medium rare - the bottom 1/3 and top 1/3 of the scallop should be opaque while the middle 1/3 remains translucent.  Remove from heat and transfer to a platter.  Cover with foil to keep them warm.  Repeat the process with the other 1/2 tablespoon of butter and other 4 scallops.

While the second batch is finishing, reheat the cauliflower puree.

To serve, ladle each of 4 plates with about 1/2 cup of puree.  Place 2 scallops on top and sprinkle with relish and crispy shallots.

Serves 4

carrot soup

So I've been recruited to cook Passover dinner for my extended family.  Apparently the popularity of this blog combined with the yummy anniversary dinner my cousin Jorie and I made for her parents has inspired them to name us co-chefs for the seder they are hosting.

It's a pretty daunting task to cook a dinner for this group, as there are legions of aunts, uncles, and cousins on that side of the family.  Not to mention the various in-laws, neighbors, and family friends who often turn up at these things.  Jorie is an experienced large dinner chef since her family is the host of an annual 50-person Thanksgiving meal, not to mention the many times they've hosted Passover, as well as various family chili-cook offs and the like.  Me, I've only cooked for a group this large once before, after my Aunt Jan basically dared me to.

Several years ago, Jorie created a Passover menu from Healthy 1-2-3, with a gravlax-style beef roast, garlic mashed potatoes, and asparagus with wasabi butter.  It was absolutely scrumptious and met with rave reviews from all the guests.  Including Aunt Jan, who wondered aloud, "Wow, where did Jorie ever come up with these combinations of ingredients??" 
I chimed in, I thought innocuously, "Oh, you know, this is the new fusion cuisine!" 
Aunt Jan apparently interpreted the phrase "fusion cuisine" as a slight at Jorie's skillz, because she replied, with a withering glance, "Well, I don't see you cooking any Passover dinners, Robin." 
And then everyone turned and stared at me.  I was so surprised at this retort, I was for once speechless.  All I could muster was a 80s-style "Daaaaaaaaaaang!"

It was on.  As I hunted for the afikomen (yes, they still make me look for the afikomen even though I'm over 30) I vowed then and there to host the next Passover dinner at my mom's house and cook something that would make my aunt eat her words along with my delicious meal.

So next April swung around, and it was time to put my matzoh where my mouth was.  With the help of my mom and my brother's girlfriend, Kelly, as well as some of my cousins, I prepared several quartered roasted chickens and a huge pot of lemon zesty rice from Martha Stewart, along with my own fancy asparagus recipe - with aioli instead of wasabi butter.  Unfortunately Aunt Jan did not make it to our house to taste the food she inspired.  Although maybe that was for the best, because I have to admit it wasn't my best meal.  The aioli was great, but the rice was kind of gummy, and I had a little trouble with my timing trying to have everything warm at the same time.

This year I'm determined to do better.  Jorie and I have already started brainstorming about the menu, and I had an idea that this delicious, savory roasted carrot soup would be a good first course.  My mom, who is a soup maven and eats soup at just about every meal (this is one of her diets that she has invented, which also include the eat-anything-you-want-as long-as-you-use-chopsticks diet and the rice-cakes-and-V8-for-lunch diet) first introduced me to roasted carrot soup.  It was delicious, far richer and more complex than the usual carrot soup I make.  She made hers from a recipe in Parade magazine, the insert that comes with the Sunday newspaper. 

I had plenty of carrots, so I set out to replicate the soup last week.  Unfortunately I didn't have parsnips, fresh ginger, or the 2 hours it required to simmer the vegetables in the oven.  I decided to speed things up by roasting the carrots separately for 45 minutes while I carmelized some onions.  A quick simmer on the stovetop in some chicken broth and the soup flavors were blended and ready to puree and serve.  Best of all I can make this ahead of time and bring it to Passover frozen.  One less pot to juggle for me and Jorie!

Roasted Carrot Soup
Ingredients:
2 lbs carrots
5 sprigs thyme
3 large onions
8 cups chicken broth
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/4 teaspoon powdered ginger
3 Tablespoons olive oil
1 Tablespoon butter
salt and pepper to taste
crème fraiche
fresh chives or parsley, finely chopped for garnish

Instructions:
Preheat oven to 375

Scrape thyme leaves from stems.  Set aside.

Peel carrots and cut into quarters.  Toss carrots in 2 Tablespoons olive oil and sprinkle with thyme leaves and 1/2 teaspoon salt.   Place on a baking sheet in a single layer and roast for 45 minutes.

While carrots are roasting, slice onions into thin slices.  Heat butter and remaining Tablespoon olive oil in a large skillet.  When foam has subsided, add onions and stir to coat with butter/oil mixture.  Lower heat to medium low.  Cook for 25 minutes, stirring occasionally, until onions are soft and golden brown.

When carrots are finished, combine carmelized onions, roasted carrots, and chicken broth in a large stockpot.  Add cayenne pepper and ginger.  Stir well and simmer for 15-20 minutes. 

Puree soup with an immersion blender or in a batches using a conventional blender.  If soup is too thick, add water until it reaches your desired consistency.  Salt and pepper to taste.

Ladle into bowls and top with a dollop of creme fraiche and a sprinkling of chives or parsley.

Serves 6

lemon pancakes

Remember how I told you I have gleaned some of my best cooking technique secrets from reading the chapter headings in The Joy of Cooking?  Well the best thing I ever learned from those was how to make perfect pancakes.

Before I read the intro to the pancake chapter in The Joy, I always struggled with pancakes.  I used Bisquick pre-made pancake mix, and followed the instructions on the box to create the batter, but the first batch of pancakes would always be all yellow and greasy and wouldn’t brown properly.  The problems didn’t stop there either – after the first batch had soaked up all the butter I would add more to the pan, but by then the pan was so hot that the butter would brown before I even poured the next batch of batter into the pan.  If I lowered the heat then the pancakes would take forever to cook.  If I turned it up they’d scorch on the bottoms or have black flecks of burnt butter.  And the finished products were always kind of soggy and limp.  Thankfully, a pat of butter and good maple syrup will disguise a multitude of sins.

But one day I went to make pancakes and discovered I was out of Bisquick.  I decided to look up in my trusty Joy of Cooking how to make pancakes from scratch.  And lo and behold, the answers to all my problems were detailed on page 211.  Here are the important lessons I learned:

• If you use a proportion of at least 2 tablespoons butter to every cup of liquid in your batter, and cook in a nonstick pan, you don’t need to grease the pan surface AT ALL.

• Make sure your pan is the correct temperature. When water droplets dripped onto the pan skip and bounce, the pan is ready.  (If they evaporate instantly into steam on contact the pan is too hot.  If they sit there a moment before boiling away, it’s not hot enough.)

• Pancakes are ready to turn when bubbles appear on the surface and edges are dry.  This generally takes about 2-3 minutes.  When you think they are ready, slide a spatula under the pancake and check for a golden brown color.  If they are ready, gently flip the pancake and continue cooking until the second side is done.  This will take only about half as long as the first side.

• Finished pancakes should be served immediately or kept warm IN A SINGLE LAYER in a warm oven.  If you stack them they will get soggy.

Such was the case this morning, when he wouldn’t stop pestering me to make some of my famous pancakes.  Nursing a hangover from a delicious and very boozy night of Thai food at our friends Heather and Johnny’s last night, I was resistant at first.  But finally I gave in.  After all, this is the man who not only put up with all my Valentine’s dinner craziness, but also made me 2 hot breakfasts in the past week.

I had made that Meyerless lemon cake again (this time using actual Meyer lemons) to bring to Heather’s the night before and had some of the glaze leftover.  There was one lemon still sitting on the cutting board that I hadn’t used making the cake.  I thought longingly of the small chunk of cake that remained on Heather and Johnny’s table at the end of our meal the night before.  What a yummy breakfast that would make.  I decided to invent a cross between my favorite fluffy pancakes and that delicious lemony dessert.  

The pancakes turned out divine but Jon and I had a minor scuffle over the maple syrup at the breakfast table.  Jon went to college in Vermont and he absolutely adores maple syrup.  But I knew that the maple flavor would compete with and overpower the delicate lemon taste of these pancakes.  As I was cooking, he had been singing all morning about how much he loves syrup, so I knew it was going to be a bit of a battle to get him to try these pancakes on their own.  

As I served them, I said, “Babe, try these first without any syrup.”  As I had suspected he was resistant.  After a couple sullen bites, he proceeded to unscrew the lid of the maple syrup bottle.  I tried giving him my best Claire Huxtable evil eye, but to no avail.  He poured on a hearty slathering of syrup.  I rolled my eyes and dug into the pancakes on my own plate, savoring the sweet, lemony flavor and fluffy, moist texture.  

When Jon had cleaned his plate, he looked up balefully and said, “Babe, if it makes you feel any better, you were right.  They were better without the syrup.”  Mmmm hmmm.  “Are there any more?”  he asked.  There were.  He ate another whole plate full with no maple syrup at all.

Ah, sweet lemony victory.

Fluffy Meyer Lemon* Pancakes with Lemon Syrup
Ingredients:
4 Meyer lemons
1 cup powdered sugar
1 cup buttermilk
3 Tablespoons butter
2 eggs
1 1/2 cups flour, sifted before measuring (I do this by placing the sifter over a clear, 2-cup measuring cup, and sifting flour into it until it reaches the 1 1/2 cup marking.)
1 teaspoon salt
6  Tablespoons granulated sugar
1 3/4 teaspoons baking powder

Instructions:
To create the lemon syrup for the pancakes, juice two of the lemons to yield about 1/4 cup of lemon juice.  Pour into a small saucepan and add 1 cup powdered sugar. Stir together over medium heat until sugar is dissolved, about 2 minutes.  Turn off heat and leave the pan on the stovetop for brushing the pancakes with later.  Set out a pastry brush for this purpose.

Pour buttermilk into a microwave-safe container.  Cut butter into small, 1/2 inch chunks and stir chunks into buttermilk.  Microwave buttermilk and butter on high for 30 seconds or until butter is just melted but milk is lukewarm.  Set aside on countertop.

Separate the eggs, placing the yolks into a large mixing bowl.  Set aside egg whites.  Lightly beat the yolks together.  Zest 1 lemon and add zest to the yolks, stirring to combine.  Squeeze juice from the zested lemon to yield about 1 Tablespoon, and stir lemon juice into the egg yolks.  Add buttermilk mixture to the eggs and stir until blended.

Sift together the flour, salt, sugar and baking powder into a medium size bowl.  Using a rubber spatula, fold powder ingredients into the egg yolk bowl.

Using an electric mixer, beat the egg whites until they form stiff peaks.  Very gently so that you don’t deflate them, fold the beaten egg whites into the rest of the batter.  Stir as few times as possible to blend the batter together – less than 10 stirs.

Line a cookie sheet with paper towels and place in oven.  Turn the heat to 200F.

Heat a large non-stick skillet over medium high heat until it passes the water droplet test (see above) for correct temperature.

Pour batter by scant 1/4 cupfuls onto the pan.  When bubbles form on top and the edges are dry, flip the pancakes over using a silicon spatula.  Brush the top of the pancake with lemon syrup while the bottom finishes cooking, being careful not to drip syrup onto the pan.  When pancakes are done, remove from pan, placing finished pancakes in a single layer on the warm cookie sheet in the oven to keep warm while you cook the rest.

When you have finished making all the batter into pancakes, brush them again generously with lemon syrup and use the flour sifter to sprinkle powdered sugar over the top.  Cut the remaining lemon into quarters lengthwise and serve pancakes with a lemon wedge on each plate.

Serves 4

* To make this recipe with regular lemons, just add 1/4 cup more powedered sugar to the syrup.  To make it without any lemons at all, use only 3 Tablespoons of granulated sugar for the batter (rather than 6 as the recipe directs), and omit the lemon syrup altogether and serve with your favorite bottled syrup.

meyer lemon pasta

I finally got my hands on some Meyer lemons.  I've been hearing about these things for years.  Brought to the United States from China at the turn of the century, these sweet little lemons were used mostly as ornamental plants until they were popularized by California chefs in the 70s and 80s pursuing a cuisine of locally grown organic foods.  Nowadays cookbook chefs are constantly dropping them into recipes all casually, as if we all live in California and can just go pick some off the bush in our back yard.

Even though Meyer lemons are certainly not locally grown here in Illinois you can still find them once in a while, usually during the lemon season which is from December to April.  Thought to be a cross between regular lemons and tangerines, they are rounder and more orangey yellow than conventional lemons.  Their flavor is sweeter than regular lemons and their skin is soft and has a wonderful orange-lemony fragrance.

So when I finally found some during my weekly grocery shop, I grabbed half a dozen.  Now I could finally make all those lemon-snobby cookbook recipes I'd been bypassing!  I decided to start with a main course, meyer lemon pasta.  I actually had two different recipes for a meyer lemon pasta (one from the Living spa cuisine article and one from Cooking for Mr. Latte).  I decided to keep the common elements - spaghetti, meyer lemons, arugula - and just add in which ever of the other ingredients suited me.  The result was a light, delicious pasta, which was pretty easy to make (once I got the lemons) and as a bonus, it's pretty healthy to boot!

Spaghetti with Meyer Lemon-Pistachio Pesto
Ingredients:
1 pound whole grain spaghetti (I use Barilla - the yellow box)
2 meyer lemons (the recipe will still be good with regular lemons, just use one lemon instead of two)
1 cup grated parmesan cheese
3/4 cup roasted pistachio nuts (buy the kind that are already shelled)
1 large shallot, minced
1 Tablespoon olive oil
1/2 cup creme fraiche or sour cream
3 handfuls arugula, roughly chopped
salt and pepper to taste

Instructions:
Put on a pot of salted water to boil.

Zest the lemons into a large bowl and add the grated parmesan.

Cut the lemons into six wedges each and remove seeds.  Discard peels.

Pulse pistachio nuts in food processor until well chopped.  Add peeled, seeded lemon wedges and pulse to combine.

When water boils, put in pasta and cook until al dente (about 10 minutes or as package directions indicate). 

While the pasta is cooking, heat one tablespoon of olive oil in a small pan and saute shallots over medium heat until fully softened.  Add cooked shallots to pistachio-lemon mixture.

When pasta is done, drain, reserving 1 cup of cooking water.  Toss cooked pasta in bowl with lemon zest and parmesan.   Add pesto, mix thoroughly until all strands are coated.  If the dressed pasta is too sticky, add some of the cooking water until it has a nice slippery texture.  Fold in creme fraiche.  Finally, add the chopped arugula, and mix until it is wilted and evenly distributed throughout the pasta.  Salt and pepper to taste.

Serve with a fresh grating of parmesan on top.

Serves 4

coleslaw

My husband loves coleslaw.  I mean, he LOVES coleslaw.  He loves it the way some people love french fries, or chocolate, or their firstborn child.  His family serves coleslaw as part of their traditional Thanksgiving menu.  And at almost all other notable family gatherings.  Cousin's graduation party?  Coleslaw.  Brother's engagement party?  Coleslaw.  We even served coleslaw at our wedding.  OK, no we didn't.  But we did have it at the rehearsal dinner! 

cheesy turnip gratin

Ever since I was a kid I have always wanted to eat turnips and cheese. 

When I was little my mom enrolled my brother in this Scholastic Book of the Month club.  One of the books they sent him was about this old couple who didn't have much money but they grew turnips and all they ate all winter was turnips and cheese.  I know it was supposed to seem like a terrible hardship, but it always made me feel hungry for turnips and cheese. 

UPDATE: My mom read this blog and tracked down the book and sent me a copy!  (Awww, ain't she sweet!)  It's called "Socks for Supper" by Jack Kent.  Turns out the couple only ate turnips all winter until they began trading socks for cheese with a dairy-farming couple down the road.

socks for supper

Anyway, despite the genius of Jack Kent, you just don't find those two ingredients paired together too often.  My cousin Jorie always thought it was weird when we'd make rosemary roasted turnips for dinner and then afterwards I'd be snacking on a slice of cheddar.  But I couldn't help it!  The taste of those turnips made me long for cheese - it was like fries & ketchup, bananas & peanut butter, pie & whipped cream.  Two great tastes that taste great together.

So finally, I invented/adapted from other sources the following recipe:

Cheesy Turnip Gratin
Ingredients:
1 pound white turnips (about 4 medium)
1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
1 cup grated Gruyère (about 4 ounces)
1/3 cup heavy cream
1/3 cup milk

Instructions:
Put on a pot of salted water to boil.  Preheat oven to 350° F and butter a gratin dish.

Peel turnips and cut into 1/8-inch-thick slices. Cook turnips in boiling salted water until crisp-tender, 2 to 3 minutes, and transfer with slotted spoon to colander. Drain turnips and pat dry between paper towels.  (Turnips may be cooked 1 day ahead and chilled, covered.)

In gratin dish arrange one third of the turnips and sprinkle with 1/2 tablespoon flour, 1/3 cup Gruyère, and salt and pepper to taste. Repeat for a second layer.

Arrange remaining turnips over cheese and pour cream and milk over vegetables, top with remaining 1/3 cup cheese

Bake in middle of oven, covered, 30 minutes. Uncover gratin and bake until bubbling and golden, about 30 minutes more.  (If it's not golden enough for you, you can add a couple minutes under the broiler at the end.)

Serves one hungry couple.

Finally, satisfaction!  My turnip and cheese quest was completed! 

We ate it with leftover chicken and rice, and a nice salad.  Jon said it was one of my best efforts in the kitchen to date.