I love good sandwich bread; it’s something I spend the most time selecting in a grocery store. I try to find bread that is tasty but not too healthy – a carb that can taste great with something sweet but also work for a savory sandwich. Unfortunately, a surprisingly high number of breads have high fructose corn syrup in them, which I try to avoid. Even after all these years, I don’t have a favorite brand of sandwich bread, so this week, I finally set out to make my own.

This bread tastes just as good, if not better, than store-bought bread. The honey flavor is quite prominent, so I recommend making this with a mild honey if you are not a fan of sweetness in bread.

If you choose to make this with all-purpose flour, it will be soft and wonderful. I chose to swap some of the all-purpose flour out with some white whole-wheat flour, which makes the bread a bit denser and more filling. Feel free to play with the ratios of flour.

My only problem with this bread is that I’m not so great at cutting ultra-thin slices the way mass-produced bread is sliced, so I always end up with fat slices if I’m not careful. But either way, this is lovely to share with a neighbor, eat with breakfast or make into a snack with peanut butter and Nutella.

Honey-Oat Bread
Adapted by Amrita Rawat from a recipe originally published on Summer Harms. 
Yields 1 loaf

1½ cups all-purpose flour
3 cups white whole-wheat flour
¼ cup old-fashioned oats, plus 1 handful for sprinkling
1½ tsp. salt
1½ cups warm water
1 pkg. (or 2¼ tsp.) active dry yeast
¼ cup honey, plus 1 Tbsp. more for spreading
2 Tbsp. butter, melted and cooled

• Combine the flours, oats and salt in a bowl and set aside.
• Mix the water, yeast and honey in the bowl of a stand mixer. Gently whisk to dissolve the yeast. Let sit for 10 minutes to ensure the yeast has dissolved.
• Add the dry ingredients and butter to the mixer bowl and use a dough hook to mix, scraping the sides of the bowl if necessary. If you don’t have a mixer and/or dough hook, use a wooden spoon to combine ingredients.
• After 1 minute or so, the dough will pull away from the sides of the bowl and come together as a ball around the hook.
• Pull the dough off and with your hands mold it into a ball. If the dough is slightly sticky, that’s fine. Put the dough in a large oiled bowl, cover and let rise for 1 hour.
• After the first rise, punch the dough down. With your hands, form the dough into a loaf and place in a greased loaf pan lined with parchment paper. Cover and let rise for 1 more hour.
• Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.
• Spread 1 tablespoon of honey and sprinkle 1 handful of oats on top of the risen dough.
• Bake for 35 to 40 minutes, or until the loaf is golden brown and you can insert a knife into the center and the knife comes out clean.
• Brush the top crust with butter after pulling it out of the oven (optional).
• Let cool in the pan, then turn it out onto a wire rack or cutting board and slice.

Store in an airtight container or wrap carefully in plastic wrap at room temperature. The loaf can last up to 2 weeks.

My mother-in-law’s chicken broth is the pretty, translucent color of warm sunshine. My homemade vegetarian stock has a russet tone better suited to heavy stews. The color comes from slowly simmered vegetables, which also give it a hearty taste. Could I make a lighter-looking broth that wasn’t light on flavor?

First, I diced all of my vegetables into ¼-inch bits. The smaller the piece, the more flavor extracted. Then I sauteed the vegetables until they were soft, but not brown. I added some cold water and brought it to a boil.

Here’s what they don’t tell you on cooking shows: If you have a boiling pot of broth, and you add pepper to it, and you lean into the aromatic steam and inhale gloriously, you will get a snoot full of pepper. And if you have just used pungent white pepper instead of black because hey, that might taste good, you will cough so much that your abs hurt and it counts as your workout for the week. To add insult to eye-watering injury, a brief simmer yielded a light-colored, but weak-tasting broth. For flavor’s sake, browner was better.

Perhaps I’d have better luck duplicating my mother-in-law’s fluffy matzo balls. A little research suggested two tricks. One is to whip the egg whites before folding in the dry ingredients. The second is to use carbonated water instead of tap. Whipping the egg whites was easy, but my seltzer was flat (another thing that never happens on TV). Improvising, I used lime-flavored sparkling water – and it worked. The matzo balls were fluffy! Slightly tropical tasting, but fluffy!

I don’t really recommend lime-flavored matzo balls. But I do recommend facing your cooking disasters. It’s a marvelously heady feeling to overcome whatever obstacles a dish throws at your feet. Or up your nose.

Find Kellie’s recipe for Fearless Matzo Ball Soup here.

Find Kellie’s recipe for Fluffy Matzo Balls here.

— photo by Carmen Troesser

Since 2008, we’ve been sharing recipes for your favorite local dishes in our New Classics column. For February, we present Mango Peruvian Cuisine’s Aji de Gallina.

Aji de Gallina
6 Servings
Courtesy of Mango Peruvian Cuisine’s Jorge Calvo

4 yellow potatoes
Salt and freshly ground white pepper to taste
5 slices white bread
¾ cup evaporated milk
1 large carrot
1 celery stalk
1½ lbs. boneless skinless chicken breast
¼ cup vegetable oil
3 Tbsp. aji amarillo paste*
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 large onion, finely chopped
1 tsp. turmeric
4 Tbsp. grated Parmesan cheese
3 Tbsp. chopped walnuts
2 hard-boiled eggs, sliced
10 Peruvian black olives, halved*

• Place the potatoes in a medium-size pot and cover with cold, salted water, and bring to a boil. Cook until the potatoes are tender when pierced with a fork. Drain and let cool.
• Once cool, peel and quarter the potatoes. Set aside.
• Place the white bread in a small bowl and pour the evaporated milk over it. Let it soak.
• Place the carrot and celery in a large pot and cover with 6 cups of water. Bring to a boil.
• Once boiling, add the chicken and bring the liquid to a simmer. Let cook for 10 to 15 minutes, or until the chicken is cooked through. Remove the chicken and set on a plate to cool. Strain the broth, reserving 2 cups.
• To the same pot, add the oil, aji amarillo paste, garlic and onions. Saute until the onions are soft and golden. Add the turmeric and stir to coat the onions. Transfer to a plate or bowl and let cool.
• Once the chicken has cooled, shred it into bite-size pieces.
• Transfer the milk-and-bread mixture and 1½ cups of the reserved chicken broth to a blender or food processor. Blend until smooth.
• Pour the creamy bread mixture into the same pot and set over medium-low heat. Bring to a low simmer. Stir, then add the shredded chicken, Parmesan cheese and walnuts. Continue to stir until the mixture is warmed through, adding additional stock as needed if the sauce is too thick. Season with salt and white pepper to taste.
• Divide the quartered potatoes, egg slices, halved olives and sauce between 6 plates. Serve with rice.

* Available at Global Foods Market, 421 N. Kirkwood Road, Kirkwood, 314.835.1112, globalfoodsmarket.com

Mango Peruvian Cuisine, 1101 Lucas Ave., St. Louis, 314.621.9993, mangoperu.com

— photo by Jonathan Gayman

When the Day of Love is over, you’re usually stuck with a lighter wallet and a box of half-eaten chocolates. This year, don’t bring the sweet stuff to work or bake it into measly ol’ cookies; put that cocoa gold to work on the savory side of the kitchen. Chopped, melted or luxuriously spread, here are three ways to make all that leftover chocolate the star of your next meal.

For the recipe for Chocolate Crostinis, click here.

For the recipe for Root Vegetable Chocolate Chili, click here.

For the recipe for a Bittersweet Chocolate, Pistachio And Fig Salad, click here.

— photo by Carmen Troesser

Forgot to make a Valentine’s Day reservation? It’s your lucky day. Sometimes the most romantic nights are spent cooking together or for one another. We have picked out some of our favorite recipes (two appetizers, two salads, four entrees and two desserts), so that you can create the perfect menu for you and the one(s) you love.

Click here to see 10 Great Recipes for Valentine’s Day, including this recipe for Bacon Fat-Fried Cornbread courtesy of Taste’s Matthew Daughaday.

— photo by  Carmen Troesser

Area bartenders continue to shake things up. Last Friday, The Scoop announced that Ted Kilgore was opening a cocktail bar in Lafayette Square. This week, the drinker’s delight is the launch of Matt Seiter’s cocktail book, Sanctuaria: The Dive Bar of Cocktail Bars.

Seiter is the bar manager for Sanctuaria, a restaurant and bar located in The Grove that has developed a reputation for outstanding cocktails. In the first part of the book, Seiter offers background information about the beverage program he developed at Sanctuaria, from the spirits that the bar team uses to the creation of the Sanctuaria Cocktail Club to the 150-drink menu created specifically for that club. The remainder of the book is comprised of recipes, which are divided into three sections. The first section, Libations of Our Creation, features 70 original cocktail recipes. The middle section, Old Timers, is made up of 80 classic drink recipes. And the final section, Home Cooking, includes handfuls of recipes for making juices, infusing spirits and preparing tinctures and other ingredients to outfit a craft cocktail bar.

Seiter’s writing (and some of the boozer quotes he includes) is lively and engaging while photography by Jacqui Segura, Jenna Elizabeth Grissom and Egan O’Keefe brings the 250-page book to life. And since each of the 150 cocktail recipes are accompanied by a photo – such as Kentucky Island and Cinco de Punto (pictured, from left to right)  – when preparing a cocktail, you can use the images to help judge whether your finished version looks anything near as good as Seiter’s.

The hardcover book with a three-ring binder design will be available for purchase at Sanctuaria and online at sanctuariastl.com for $25 plus tax beginning Tuesday, December 11. However, if you can’t wait until tomorrow, a few tickets remain for the release party at Sanctuaria, which begins tonight at 7 p.m. Tickets ($45 for Sanctuaria Cocktail Club members, $50 for non-members) include a copy of the book, plus all you can eat and drink. For ticket information, call 314.535.9700.

Commentary: I first began writing about Seiter (pictured with his parents Kathy and Bill Seiter) in 2010. As the spirits columnist for Sauce, I consider Matt Seiter to be an integral component to the craft cocktail movement in St. Louis. He co-founded the St. Louis Chapter of the United States Bartender Guild and adheres to a philosophy that bartending is a noble profession. In creating the Sanctuaria Cocktail Club, he’s found a way to apply his love of teaching to the world of drinking by encouraging – never demanding – hundreds of imbibers to become educated while they whet their whistle. I am honored that Seiter mentioned me in his book as “The first public figure to notice what I was doing and recognize the ingenuity of it. She helped propel my career in ways I couldn’t.” Seiter is one of a number of the talented bartenders in this community that make it exciting to stay on this beat.

I had heard about Tartine Bakery through foodie shows, blogs and this video. Ever since I watched Chad Robertson make breads and pastries, I’d been planning an indefinite trip to San Francisco during which I eat at Tartine for breakfast every morning.

When I learned that a book of his bread recipes was out, I was excited to give it a try. I wanted to make a baguette. Only problem was that Robertson’s baguettes, just like all the bread recipes in his book, required making a starter. It was my first time making a starter and, being fairly new to bread baking, I found that this book was a bit overwhelming.

Tartine Bread is more advanced than my beginner status. I needed more specific and concise instructions. Instead, the instructions were long and sometimes vague like: “fill a small bowl halfway with warm water and add a handful of flour to the water.” I found the lack of measurements to be confusing. I never knew whether I was adding too much or too little flour to my starter.

{my inactive starter}

Making this starter can take several days.  After a few days of keeping my starter, it looked and smelled like the book said it should: crusty and stinky. After feeding it, however, I realized that it was no longer matching the description in the book. I waited a few more days for the starter to begin to rise and fall, but it never happened. The starter was dead.  The lack of measuring how much starter to discard and how much water and flour to add was probably what killed my Tartine bread dreams.

The book is beautiful and the pictures of the bread look delicious, but I think this read is better suited for the seasoned bread baker. I guess I’ll have to wait till I can make it to San Francisco.

Making a Starter

• Mix 5 pounds of bread flour-half white and half whole wheat. You will use this 50/50 flour blend to feed your culture and develop your starter. All-purpose flour will work as well. Fill a small, clear bowl halfway with lukewarm water. Add a handful of the 50/50 flour blend to the water and mix with your hands to achieve the consistency of a thick batter with no lumps. Use a dough spatula to clean the clumps off your hands and tidy the inside of the bowl. Cover the bowl with a kitchen towel and place in a cool, shaded spot for 2 to 3 days.

• After 2 to 3 days, check the culture to see if any bubbles have formed around the sides and on the surface. If the culture seems inactive, let it sit for another day or 2. By this time, a dark crust may have formed over the top of the mixture, which is typical. Pull the crust back and note the aroma and bubbles caused by fermentation. In this initial stage, when the culture smells strong like stinky cheese and tastes sharply acidic, it is very ripe. Now it is time to do the first feeding.

• To feed the culture, discard about 80 percent of it. Replace the discarded portion with equal amounts of water and the 50/50 flour blend. Mix to combine just as you did in step 1. You have now begun training your culture into a starter.

• Repeat the discarding and feeding process once every 24 hours at about the same time each day, preferably in the morning. Don’t worry too much about the quantities of water and flour in these feedings. You want a thick batter. The important thing is that you feed the starter and pay attention to its behavior as it develops.

• As the balance of yeast and bacteria is established, the volume of the starter will increase for several hours after feeding and then begin to collapse as the cycle winds down. Note how the aroma of the starter changes from stinky and sharply acidic to sweet milky just after the feeding, when the starter is at the freshest or youngest stage in the cycle. “Fresh” and “young” are expressed and understood here in two ways: 1) The sweet stage of ripeness having been fed the normal 20-percent inoculation (2 to 4 hours) and 2) and/or many more hours (4 to 8) after having been fed using a very small inoculation (percent), yet still at the same sweet ripe stage. When the starter ferments predictably – rising and falling after feedings – you are ready to prepare a leaven and mix your first bread dough.

• Keep in mind that training your starter is a forgiving process. Don’t worry if you forget to feed it one day; just make sure to feed it the next. The only surefire way to mess up a starter is to neglect it for a long period of time or subject it to extreme temperatures. Even then, the cycle of regular feedings will usually restore the vitality of your starter.

Reprinted with permission from Chronicle Books

Have any tricks for making and feeding a starter? Tell us about it in the comments section below for a chance to win a copy of Tartine Bread by Chad Robertson. We’ll announce the winner in next week’s By the Book column.

And now, we’d like to congratulate Steve, whose comment on last week’s By the Book has won him a copy of Flour Water Salt Yeast. Steve, keep an eye out for an email from the Sauce crew.

I may have been the biggest proponent of dedicating an entire issue to bread, but I’m no expert when it comes to turning flour, water and yeast into a loaf of wonderfulness. Truth is, besides the basic tea-time breads, I’ve never actually tried my hand at a real yeast bread – the kind that needs time to rise, to proof, to ferment. I figured Daniel Stevens’ The River Cottage Bread Handbook was a good guide for dipping my toe in the water of bread baking. And what better time for such an experiment than a rainy Sunday?

As with most authentic yeast bread recipes, this one had a short ingredient list and required more patience than technique. But there’s a reason why bakers say perfecting bread takes practice. 

First, my dough wouldn’t come together. It was shaggy to begin with and, once I started kneading (wrongly, I might add), the goal of “smooth and elastic” began to seem farther and farther away. So I scrapped my first batch and vowed to do better on the second. I gathered all of my mise en place ahead of time to make sure that the yeast was activated at just the right time and looked back to the earlier section of the book on kneading, which the recipe sadly didn’t tell me to do. I also took the time to read the section on shaping the kneading dough into a round, which the recipe did, in fact, send me to. I felt I was ready.

And it turns out, I was. Now, I won’t say it was the most beautiful round I’d ever seen (This is the underside after shaping, not the smooth side.), but it was a far cry from the shaggy, flour-coated hunk my first attempt yielded. And after a few sessions of placing the fingers of one hand atop the dough, pushing the dough with the heel of the other and then folding the edges of that pushed dough back on top of the round (See a much better description of this process below.), the “smooth and elastic” descriptor suited it almost perfectly. Next, it was time to let it rise. But for how long? With zero time instructions listed, I looked back to this recipe and gave it a good hour and a half by the window.

A mere 90 minutes later, the round had doubled and I had mentally patted myself on the back at least twice. It was time to punch it down (or, as the recipe so interestingly describes it “deflate it”) and then break it into 12 equal pieces. Roll them up, wet the ends, press them together and you have 12 doughnut hole-like rings that are ready to be proofed. Again, no time instructions. So I followed these instructions and gave them an hour.

And poof! They were ready to be poached. Except that when I did, two of my carefully crafted bagels broke right where I’d sealed them and were as resistant as a divorcing couple in counseling to reuniting. Nothing more was to be done.

So I brushed them with egg, sprinkled half of them with poppy seeds and put them in the oven for 20 to 30 minutes. To get that gorgeous golden hue, I actually had to bake them for an extra 10 minutes. But as soon as they cooled, I could tell that I was onto something. Flavorful and salty with a crust that glistened and was wonderfully crisp, I finally understood that sense of accomplishment bread bakers speak of. A tad heavy for my liking, the bagels had a denseness that I credit to my over-kneading, not the recipe. They were by no means perfect, but I’m sure with a little more practice, they could be.

And as for that lowly, unhinged couple? Well, they were the first to be eaten.

Bagels
Makes 12 Bagels

Until recently, most of the bagels I had eaten seemed bland, somewhat dry and rather boring. That was until I came across a bagel recipe in an old Jewish cookbook and was enlightened. Good bagels, like the ones you are about to make, are slightly sweet and curiously chewy, with a soft, shiny, tasty crust. You poach them fro a couple of minutes in water before you bake them – the oddest thing you are ever likely to do to a piece of dough.

4 cups (1 lb. plus 2 oz./500 g.) white bread flour
1 ½ tsp. (0.18 oz./5 g.) instant yeast
2 tsp. (0.35 oz./10 g) fine salt
1 cup plus 1 Tbsp. warm water
1 ½ Tbsp. (0.7 oz./20 g.) superfine sugar
3 ½ Tbsp. vegetable oil, plus extra for coating

To finish:
1 medium free-range egg, beaten
Poppy or sesame seeds (optional)

• In a large bowl, mix together all of the dough ingredients. Knead on a clean surface until smooth and elastic (see below). Shape into a round (again, see below), coat with a little extra oil and place in a clean bowl. Let rise, covered with a plastic bag.
• When the dough has doubled in size, deflate it and divide into 12 pieces. One at a time, roll into a sausage shape about 6 inches long. Wet the ends and press them together to make a ring. Let proof, covered, on a lightly oiled plastic board or metal baking sheet (not floured cloths or boards).
• Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Lightly oil a couple of baking sheets. In a wide pan, bring about 4 inches of water to a boil.
• When the bagels have roughly doubled in size, they are ready for poaching. You will need to do this in batches. Turn down the pan of water to a simmer, then slip as many bagels as will fit comfortably into the water (allow room for them to puff up). Cook for 1 minute on each side, then remove and drain on a clean tea towel (not a paper towel, as it will stick).
• When they are all poached, lay the bagels on the prepared baking sheets, gently sticking any that uncurled in the water back together again. Brush all over with beaten egg, then sprinkle with seeds if you like. Bake for 15 minutes, until the bagels are a uniform, glossy golden brown. Let cool on a wire rack.

KNEADING (the important parts)
Tip and scrape your dough out of the bowl and onto your work surface. Clean and dry your hands – rub them together with a little flour to get the worst of the dough off, then wash them. By now, your dough is probably well glued to the work surface. Good … you want it to stick.

Flour your hands a little. Now with your left hand if you’re right-handed, right hand if you’re left-handed, press down on the dough with your fingertips, about a third of the way up. With the heel of your other hand, in one smooth, quick motion, press into the dough just above your first hand and push down and away, a full arm’s length if you have room. Now cup the fingers of this hand and scrape or roll the torn, ripped-up dough back on top of itself. Turn the dough around roughly 90 degrees. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Have a look at the dough as you stretch it. You will see long, thin strands developing – this is gluten.

From time to time, stop and clean your hands with more flour. … With each stretch, the dough will become a little less sticky. After a good 5 minutes, it probably won’t be sticking much to anything. The dough will have tightened considerably; it will no longer be breaking into pieces, and you will find it more resistant to your stretching. Adapt your kneading action as the dough changes. Start to use shorter and shorter strokes, until you are only stretching it to around double its length. From time to time, spend half a minute or so shaping your dough into a nice tight round, following the method below.

SHAPING THE DOUGH INTO A ROUND (the important parts)
Lay your dough, smoothest side facing down, on the work surface and prod a little with all your fingers to flatten it. Now, with one or two fingers and a thumb, lift an edge, fold it into the middle and press down. Make about an eighth turn of the dough, pick up the edge at the side of the fold you just made, and press into the middle. Repeat until you get back to where you started. Now flip it over. You should have a nice, smooth, round dough. Put your hands flat on the work surface, palms up, on either side of the dough, one forward, one back. Now, in a fluid motion, bring your hands together under the dough, at the same time sliding the forward hand back and the back hand forward. This both spins the dough and stretches the upper surface down and under. Repeat this spinning action two or three times.

Reprinted with permission from Ten Speed Press

What’s your favorite way to enjoy a bagel? Tell us about it in the comments section below for a chance to win a copy of The River Cottage Bread Handbook by Daniel Stevens. We’ll announce the winner in next week’s By the Book column. 

And now we’d like to congratulate Colleen whose comment on last week’s By the Book column has won him/her a copy of Nick Malgieri’s Bread. Colleen, keep an eye out for an email from the Sauce crew. 

Food is fuel. But if you are privileged enough to also eat for pleasure, food becomes deeply intertwined with time and place. Particular dishes and those with whom we shared them become etched in our memories. Maybe it’s the rhubarb pie your mom made as soon as the ruby red veggie hit the market in late spring. Perhaps it’s the first time you bit into a freshly plucked peach so ripe that the juices dribbled down your chin. The joy of eating seasonally is the premise behind Cheryl Sternman Rule’s new cookbook Ripe, filled with recipes and colorful photos of fruits and vegetables in their prime.

Right now, it’s apple season. My apple memory bank holds a bushel-full of stories. Not from trips to Eckert’s orchards; rather to parks and green spaces, where we’d climb high up the tree or stand below and shake the limb, whereupon red and yellow fruit would rain like hail on our heads. Apples also remind me of the few years that my husband became the self-appointed custodian of the two apple trees on our block, that is until the city parks department workers came along and cut them back. A hefty bag of apples evoke memories of the pounds upon pounds of warm, chunky, honey-sweetened applesauce it’s taken to convince my kids that the homemade stuff is tastier than commercial kinds. And the real reason that I whipped up Sternman Rule’s recipe for Gruyere-Crusted Leeks and Apples in Ripe? The dish takes me back 20 years to a ski trip in the Swiss Alps. After a long day on the slopes, my college travel mate and I were too poor to afford anything but the cheapest thing on the menu: a plate of apples to be dunked in melted cheese. It was sustenance for body and soul.

Granny Smith apples are not actually the stars of this dish. But,they lend such tart flavor and crunchy texture to the grassy, onion-y leeks that the recipe wouldn’t be the same without them.

As for the leeks, I just want to beg for a gentle hand. The recipe calls for a militant blanch and shock followed by draining and squeeze-drying them. I am too much of a vegetable pacifist to squeeze such beautiful, edible plants, so I took a more subdued approach and let the leeks drain in their own good time on paper towels. One of my taste-testers wanted the leeks to be shorter than the prescribed lengthwise cut. Cutting the leeks into circles seems like it would work just fine but might decrease the saute time.

Gruyere-crusted Leeks and Apples is made flavorful with the simplest of sauces: dry white wine, vegetable stock, nutmeg, cream, and just a little salt and pepper. Of course, it’s the Gruyere that takes it over the top. If you like things cheesy, add ¼ cup more. The Swiss are not a warring people and won’t wage battle on you if you go generous on the cheese. I had a bottle of pinot grigio available and, as chance would have it, a freshly made loaf of bread. All that was missing was the roaring fire, just like at the restaurant I ate at years ago in the mountains of Verbier.  

Gruyere-Crusted Leeks and Apples
4 Servings

4 large leeks, white and light green parts only, quartered lengthwise
1 Tbsp. butter
1 Tbsp. olive oil
¼ tsp. ground nutmeg
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
¼ cup dry white wine
¼ cup vegetable stock
2 Tbsp. heavy cream
1 medium Granny Smith apple, unpeeled, cored, halved and thinly slicedS
¾ cup packed shredded Gruyere cheese

• Bring a medium pot of water to a boil. Set a large bowl of ice water nearby.
• Rinse the leeks well under cool running water, spreading the layers to release any grit. Blanch in the boiling water for 2 minutes. Drink and then add to the ice water. Drain again and squeeze dry between paper towels. (Note: I let them dry naturally on a paper towel.)
• Combine the butter and olive oil in a large ovenproof skillet over medium-high heat. When the butter melts, add the leeks and nutmeg. Season with salt and pepper. Saute, turning occasionally with tongs, until the leeks begin to brown, about 5 minutes. Add the wine and stock, bring to a boil, then reduce the heat, cover and simmer gently until very tender, about 5 minutes. Add the cream, up the heat slightly, and let bubble until thickened, about 4 minutes.
• Tuck the apple slices among the leeks. Sprinkle with the Gruyere. Broil until the cheese melts and turns golden brown, 2 to 4 minutes, watching carefully. Serve immediately.

What is your favorite memory of apple season? Tell us in the comments section below for a chance to win a copy of Ripe by Cheryl Sternman Rule. We’ll announce the winner in next week’s By the Book column.

And now, we’d like to congratulate Kiley, whose comment on last week’s By the Book has won her a copy of Ten Dollar Dinners. Kiley, keep an eye out for an email from the Sauce crew.

A well-cooked flank steak served with a flash of bright green makes for a beautiful presentation. In Argentina, you will find chimichurri sauce served alongside both meat and vegetable dishes. Although I love traditional chimichurri, made with parsley, oregano, garlic, vinegar and red pepper flakes, I decided to play with some different flavors (and less ingredients).

Cilantro is one of my favorite herbs and works well in both Asian and South American dishes. (I know, some of you think it tastes like soap, but apparently that does not make you crazy because Julia Child hated it too.) To give my take on chimichurri a more Mexican feel, I used lime instead of vinegar for my acid, and I switched out red pepper flakes for super hot serrano chile peppers (Remember to wear gloves when handling these babies, and proceed with caution; some are hotter than others!). Don’t marinate the steak long, as the lime juice can make the steak a tad mushy. If you have extra sauce or aren’t feeling like having a steak, boiled or roasted potatoes are also excellent tossed in this chimichurri.

Flank Steak with Cilantro-Lime “Chimichurri”
4 to 5 servings

1 bunch freshly chopped cilantro rinsed (about 1 cup)
3 garlic cloves, smashed
½ serrano chile pepper, seeded and minced
Juice of 1 lime
1/3 cup olive oil
Salt to taste
1 2-lb. flank steak
Freshly ground black pepper to taste

• Put the cilantro, garlic and chile pepper into a food processor and pulse a few times.
• Pour the mixture into a bowl and stir in the lime juice and olive oil. Season to taste with salt.
• Lightly score both sides of the flank steak by drawning a knife across the meat in a crisscross pattern, cutting about one-quarter of an inch into the meat.
• Place the steak in a resealable gallon-sized plastic bag. Add about ¼ cup of the chimichurri to the bag and massage the marinade into the meat. Refrigerate for 1 to 2 hours.
• Prepare a hot grill or broiler. Remove the steak from the bag and season generously with salt and pepper. Cook for 4 to 6 minutes per side. Remove from heat and let sit for 10 minutes before slicing.
• Using a sharp knife, slice the steak into very thin slices, against the grain. Place the slices on a plate and drizzle the remaining chimichurri over the top to serve.