susan hayward photography

Food Photography: Chicken and Veggies

This is a chicken and roasted vegetable dish from Laura Muir's blog fresh cooking=happy people. I'll tell you the story of what happened when I cooked it later on this week. For now, I need your help choosing a photograph. Keep in mind that during the cooking of this meal I had to pick up one kid from school. Then, just when I finished cooking and got it all set up, another kid wanted a ride to basketball. When I finally got back from that, the light was totally different than what I planned. But I still like some of them. What do you think? Which one is your favorite? 

 

      

Muir Fresh Harvest: Beautiful Fruits and Vegetables

Image and text copyright Susan Hayward Photography

Disclaimer:  I was not paid to write this review or take photographs for this company, although I do know Mike and Laura Muir personally. I just happen to like good food, and they just happen to sell it.

 

Aren't these fruits and veggies beautiful? I ordered them from Muir Fresh Harvest, a local Salt Lake company that specializes in "bundles," or boxes of yummy produce and fine foods. It's kind of like a co-op, but in my opinion even better. Let me tell you why.

With a co-op, you usually don't know what will come in your box. If you don't like cauliflower, but end up with five pounds of it in your co-op, you're stuck with it. But with Muir Fresh Harvest, Laura Muir posts the contents of each bundle before you order it. So you know what you're buying before you even sign up. The bundles come every two weeks, and I can tell you that the food is so fresh, it lasts a lot longer than what you'll buy in the grocery store. 

But what if you get this assortment of food and you don't know quite what to do with it? That's the next best part. Laura Muir provides recipes using your bundle produce on her blog, Fresh Cooking=Happy People. Laura's a talented cook who can turn out a good meal any day of the week. Her recipes are not too difficult and always turn out tasty, which is a plus for people like me who either don't like to cook or just don't really know how. 

Admittedly, when I opened the box and found everything so fresh and pretty, I mostly wanted to photograph the food, not eat it. So I took pictures of it all afternoon, moving each piece this way and that until it looked just right. And then the next day I cooked up one of Laura's recipes. Tune in on Monday to see how it turned out. 

In the meantime, hop on over to Muir Fresh Harvest and find out what's coming in the next bundle. For $35 plus tax, you'll get a giant box of tasty food. And then look up Fresh Cooking=Happy People to find out what you can do with it. 

Bon Appetit!

Apple Pie Recipe

This is the apple pie that made me forget about the car falling apart…at least for a few minutes. The crust is made from scratch, and the apple filling didn’t come from a can. Yes, I peeled and sliced eight apples and mixed them with a little sugar, butter, and a smidge of flour. Move over Martha Stewart!

Actually, the recipe came from Lucinda Scala Quinn, who is Martha Stewart’s Executive Food Director, so I guess Martha can’t move over too much. I first saw this recipe in Scala Quinn’s cookbook Mad Hungry: Feeding Men and Boys. I’m not kidding when I say that every recipe I tried from this book my men loved. So while it’s good to look the recipes up on the website, it’s even better to own the book. Your men will thank you for it. And you’ll thank yourself, too.

If, like me, you have big bills this month and can’t buy cookbooks right now, you can access the Mad Hungry blog here:mad hungry blog

And, if you don’t already have it bookmarked, you can also find the Old Fashioned Apple Pie recipe here:Martha Stewart' Site/Apple Pie Recipe

 

PS

Scala Quinn recommends using four tart and four sweet apples for the filling. I prefer all sweet, because I’m a bit of a sugar addict. (Which explains why I have so many cavities, but unfortunately does not correlate to my disposition.)

PPS

If you have a better apple pie recipe (no canned filling or storebought crusts allowed) let me know. I'd love to make it and eat it and photograph it. Not in that order, though.

My New Portfolio

Did you know I have put together a new portfolio of food images? You can see my collection here: Susanhaywardphotography.com

My New Best Friend

I was in the mood for something salty and crunchy the other day and happened upon these chips at Whole Foods. I like beets, and I like sweet potatoes, and I like chips, so it was a no brainer that I would like these. Best of all, they're sort of good for you. Of course, if you eat the whole bag, you might not feel great. And you're potty will turn a pretty shade of red, which might cause you to think you've got some internal bleeding going on. But then you'll remember all those beets you just snarfed in the form of chips, and you will calm down and take note that perhaps next time you shouldn't eat ALL of the chips, just MOST of them.

Also, they're a bit pricey, so you probably won't be buying them every day. But I hear you can make them at home, which makes me want to buy a mandoline, one of those kitchen gadgets that slices stuff super thin. You need some time too, for all that slicing and then the baking. But I wonder. If you make these yourself, are you less inclined to eat too many of them, seeing as it took you so long to make them? That's what I call food for thought. 

Recipe: Nana's Banana Bread

When my husband's Nana died, the grandchildren spoke at her funeral. More than one grandchild reminisced about her cooking. One mentioned her lemon poppy seed cake, another pink lemonade served by the pool, still others fondly recalled her beer bread, baked beans, seven layer lettuce salad, and trifle. But I think she was most famous for her banana bread, at least to me. 

Now, I know that there are hundreds of recipes for this classic quick bread. And most of them are good, aside from the recipes that try too hard to be healthy, using whole wheat flour, apple sauce and honey. Let's be honest. Real ingredients like white flour, oil, and white sugar make for a sweet, moist loaf. I like the recipes that call for a bit of sour cream in there too. The sour cream idea comes from my friend Shannon, who shared her recipe in a church cookbook. She called it "The Best Banana Bread Ever." And she's not kidding. It really is the tastiest, most velvety, and moist bread I've ever made, hands down. But it's missing one thing. And this is where Nana comes in.

Nana's banana bread recipe looks pretty standard until you come to the final instruction: Frost with vanilla frosting. When my Aunt-in-law shared this recipe with the family, I thought, "Brilliant! What could be better than creamy sweetness on top of dense, bready sweetness?" I've been known to lick the frosting off a cookie or a piece of cake, and the middle of an Oreo always tasted better to me than the actual chocolate wafer. In my world, baked goods are merely pedestals for the real star--the frosting. Ah yes, I can attribute many a cavity to my affinity for frosting. I also have an intricate pattern of stretch marks that spell out "Sugar Mama" on my thighs and derriere. It stands to reason that though I grew up with naked banana bread, the first time I tried a frosted loaf I was hooked. And so is everyone else who tries it. 

Nana's Banana Bread

1 cup sugar

1/2 cup shortening

2 eggs, beaten

2 cups flour

1 tsp soda

1/2 tsp salt

1 cup chopped nuts (I don't like nuts in my baked treats, so this is optional)

3 ripe bananas, mashed

1 tsp vanilla

Sift dry ingredients (you can use a whisk if you don't have a sifter). Cream sugar and shortening. Add eggs. Add nuts to the sifted dry ingredients. Mix dry ingredients to the creamed mixture. Add bananas and vanilla. Bake 1 hour and 15 minutes @ 325. Let it cool in the pan, then turn the loaf out on a cooling rack. Then, FROST WITH VANILLA FROSTING. 

NOTE:

DON'T EVEN THINK OF USING STORE BOUGHT FROSTING ON THIS BREAD. Store-bought frosting is full of artificial ingredients that taste funky. Make your own frosting with real butter. It will taste much better than the fake stuff. And if you already went to the trouble to make the banana bread from scratch, you need to finish the job with your own frosting.

P.S.

The frosting should be a little runny, kind of between a cookie frosting and a glaze. You're supposed to pour it on top and let it run down the sides of the loaf. 

Recipe: Gingerbread Cookies (The Soft and Delicious Kind)

Last year I made a million gingerbread cookies, eating half of them myself. By the time I had frosted the last cookie, I could really identify with Ebenezer Scrooge and the Grinch. In the space of ten hours in the kitchen, I felt like I had gained ten pounds and aged ten years. Plus, instead of feeling generous and all warm and fuzzy, my heart had shrunk to the size of a shriveled pea. When my husband came home, picked up a cookie and asked, "How was your day?" I think I answered something like, "Bah-humbug," while shaking a fist at him. And when he asked, "What's wrong with you?" I must have covered my ears and said, "Noise, noise, noise! Just get out of my kitchen so I can wrap these !@%$#%@ cookies and you can deliver them." 

So you see, it was necessary to give up the insanity--er, I mean tradition--of baking millions of cookies. It's too dangerous for me to spend an entire day in the kitchen. Cooking not only makes me nibble on everything within reach, it also brings out my inner axe murderer. This makes me very sad. Christmas should be about peace and love, not felonies. So last year, I wrote a post to myself begging myself to not bake cookies this year. And miraculously, I obeyed. 

But I have had my doubts. I've worried that some look forward to gingerbread cookies every year. (Then again, maybe some dreaded them.) At any rate, I kept my promise to myself to keep things really simple this year. I have to say, that not baking has made for a much, much, much more enjoyable season. (Though I will admit I was tempted on many occasions to pull out the cookie sheets and bake up a storm. But then I came to my senses. Okay, to be honest, I was missing a key ingredient and didn't feel like going to the store, so I bagged the idea.) And I think my husband enjoys coming home to a happier wife who's not up to her elbows in frosting, muttering curses at a cookie mountain that reaches to the ceiling.  

So as a replacement for a plate of cookies on your doorstep, I've decided to post my mother's recipe for soft, delicious gingerbread cookies. This year, my family and I will make a single batch for ourselves. And now that you will have the recipe too, you can do the same. Instead of "Bah, humbug" I say to you, "Bon appetit!"

Jolly Gingerbread Men

1/2 cup butter (don't use margerine. Butter is your friend.)

1/2 cup shortening (I know, bad stuff, shortening. But you need to use it in this recipe to make the cookies soft. If you make these only once a year you can live a little.)

1 cup sugar

1/2 cup brown sugar

1 egg

1/4 cup molasses (my mom likes to use the lighter variety)

3 cups flour

2 teaspoons soda

2 teaspoons cinnamon

1 teaspoon ginger

1/2 teaspoon cloves

1. Cream first six ingredients.

2. Put flour, soda, and spices in a bowl and mix with a whisk (much easier than using a sifter).

3. Combine the wet and dry ingredients.

4. Chill in the fridge for awhile, or just go ahead and start. Chilling will make the dough a bit easier to work with, though. 

5. Roll out the dough to about 1/4 inch thickness or more. (Don't roll your dough too thin or your cookies will either burn or end up crispy, which would not be a good thing.)

6. Cut out dough with any kind of cookie cutter.   

7.Place cut-out cookies on ungreased cookie sheet.

8. Sprinkle with sugar (I always forget this part. Not a big deal.)

9. Put in red hot candies for eyes, if you've used gingerbread boy/girl cookie cutters.

10. Bake at 375 degrees for 7 minutes.

11. Cool cookies on wire racks.

12. Frost with buttercream icing. (Powdered sugar, butter, a little milk, and a little vanilla) 

To make these cookies easier, use simple cookie cutters like circles or squares instead of complicated shapes. After making the dough, cutting the cookies out and baking them, I've usually lost interest when it comes time to frost them. But with simple shapes, frosting doesn't take a lot of time. However, there was the year that my sisters and I got together to bake and I experimented with making anatomically correct gingerbread men. Now that was fun. (Don't worry, I only made one. And we didn't deliver it to the neighbors.) 

  

Farewell to Gourmet

Gourmet cover photograph by Roland Bello. Food styling by Susan Spungen.

So I was happily perusing photographer Nicole Hill's blog when I came upon the news that Gourmet magazine is getting the ax. I've been despondent ever since. Not that I'm a gourmet cook, but I read this magazine and salivate over the beautiful photographs on a monthly basis. It made me feel like I could cook the recipes if I wanted to. Or I could just read about the food and pretend that I had just eaten a good meal, even though usually I look at the current issue while snarfing a sandwich made with questionable lunch meat.  

If it weren't for Gourmet, I would not know about photographers like John Kernick, Ditte Isager, and Romulo Yanes, whose photographs have served as my inspiration for many a shoot. I also would not know Jane and Michael Stern, a foodie couple who travel the nation in search of a good meal (my idea of the perfect retirement). Every time I read their Road Food column I want to hop in the car and drive to some far-away locale to have lunch in a diner where a waitress named Ronda will take my order. 

And what would I do without editor Ruth Reichl's letters? It was because of this magazine that I read all of Reichl's books, which also inspired me to find a source for local, organic produce. (See my blog page listed as "All Season's Market.") You know what the worst thing is? It took me a year to decide to treat myself to a subscription, and now it's gone kaput. I only have ten issues to my name. If only I were not such a tightwad, I would have subscribed sooner. 

Conde Nast, the publisher of Gourmet, also put the kabosh on some bride magazines (not a big loss, if you ask me) and Cookie, a parenting magazine with some cool pictures, but totally unrealistic ideas for children. Take, for example, one issue where a toddler modeled a sports jacket that cost somewhere in the neighborhood of two hundred dollars. Yeah, right. Like I'm going to spend that much money on clothing for a person who has no bladder control and could spew his dinner all over his designer outfit with nary a thought to the cleaning bill. Somehow, I think parents will survive without this publication. 

But Gourmet is a big blow. According to Time.com, Conde Nast decided to toss Gourmet due to advertising losses. Seems that rivals like Rachael Ray and The Food Network attract more non-food advertising. And though Gourmet has won three National Magazine Awards, it's expensive to produce. With a recession on, even big guys like Conde Nast pay attention to the bottom line and make cuts where it makes the most sense. I get it. I really do. But I don't like it. 

The thing that bothers me most is the idea that the recession has affected everything, even my favorite magazine--a magazine that's been around for nearly seventy years, mind you. If a publication like that can get the boot, anyone and anything's fair game in this messed-up economy. Along with a sense of stability, the recession has now stolen my sense of fantasy. (I guess a lot of people can say that, but for different reasons.) I escaped to Gourmet to get away from thoughts about the recession. Sure, it's known as a "luxury magazine," geared more for those who love to travel and eat good food, and who have the means to do so. Though I'm not in that category, I still loved pretending I was. But apparently even the wealthy have stopped buying frivolous things like well-designed, well-written magazines. Now we're all about practicality. Soups instead of steak, and tater-tot casserole instead of cassoulet. These things are not new to me. Gourmet, on the other hand, was. 

The only thing that consoles me is the thought that I still have Martha Stewart. 

For now, anyway.

Restaurant Review: Pizzeria 712

Pizza joints are a mainstay in Utah County. Be it five bucks a pie or pizza brought to your door by a struggling college student, you’ll never be short options when it comes to a quick, cheap meal. But if you want something different that tastes fresh, and, dare I say it, even gourmet, head over to Pizzeria 712, my newest favorite place in Orem. 

I heard about Pizzeria 712 from an article in Salt Lake Magazine. I’ve found SL Magazine’s recommendations to be right on the mark, so when I ended up in Utah County around lunch time with my kids in tow, I thought I’d give it a try. But finding the location turned out to be harder than I thought.

Pizzeria 712 is not a stand-alone operation. But it’s also not in a strip mall. Do not look for flashing neon lights or a short cartoon character dressed in a toga spearing a slice of cheap pizza. First of all, Pizzeria 712 is not that kind of place. Second, Pizzeria 712 is housed on the bottom floor of a half-finished condo development that resembles a bombed-out building in Europe. Call it a casualty of the recession, if you will. Had it not been for my kids, I would still be driving back and forth in the general area where it seemed this restaurant should be. “Mom, there’s a sign,” one of my sons yelled when I made my fourth pass. Sure enough, strung across the bomb-building was a banner with “Pizzeria 712” printed in huge letters. We meandered through the empty parking lot until we finally spied a cluster of cars, a few benches and young trees, and the treasure we were looking for.

Immediately, you’ll sense that Pizzeria 712 is going to be delicious. Its small dining area is clean and uncluttered, decorated in neutral colors and charming paintings. What’s more, it’s filled with the kind of quiet natural light that lends itself to heartfelt conversations and contemplative eating (wish I could say the same about my house). It reminded me a lot of San Francisco eateries, where the furnishings are modern and understated and the clientele quiet. Yet, for all its big-city sophistication, Pizzeria 712 is still family friendly. (We are, after all, still in Utah, AKA the kid factory.) When I walked in with my kids, there were no heavy sighs or rolling eyes from the waiter, just good service from start to finish. It also helps that the kitchen and dining area are separated by a chest-high counter, making it possible for kids to watch the chef spin dough on the tip of his finger, toss it into the air, pile it with toppings and then slide it into a brick oven the likes of which you only imagined in Hansel and Gretel. My youngest found the process so entertaining; he sat on his knees so he could see the whole show.

I’ll be straight with you. Pizzeria’s menu has a few exotic items on it, like pizza with potato and rosemary. I watched my children to see how they would react. “Don’t they have Hawaiian pizza here?” my youngest asked. “Yeah,” my middle child piped in, “or pepperoni?”  They flipped the menu back and forth, searching for their old standbys. As for my oldest, he studied the menu like an archaeologist deciphering an ancient language scrawled on the side of a cave. Meanwhile, the heavenly smell of melting cheese and simmering tomato sauce awakened my stomach, which at that moment growled loudly. Luckily, our waiter happened by at just that moment. 

“Do you have just cheese pizza?” I asked, figuring that if all else failed, I could order myself a small, gourmet pizza and then head to McDonald’s for the kids. “We have the margarita,” he answered. That sounded suspiciously alcoholic to me. But then we found out that it was just cheese with basil leaves on top. That seemed safe enough to the kids, especially when the waiter told them the leaves so big they could take them off if they didn’t like them. A few minutes after ordering, the waiter brought a plate of pita bread and hummus. We each took a triangle of homemade pita, soft and pliable in our hands, and scooped it in the hummus. Though they’ve never had hummus before, my kids declared it delicious. I agreed. And I would have had more, but the kids swarmed the little appetizer plate like angry hornets, so I just watched. Besides, I wanted to save my appetite for the pizza.

Turns out, that was a good decision. I can honestly say that I nearly swooned with the first bite. So did my children. My middle child moaned, “Oh, oh, oh” so many times while he ate that I finally had to tell him to keep it down. (It was a little too reminiscent of the restaurant scene in When Harry Met Sally.) With each successive bite I was met with a new flavor, and I did my best to decipher what exactly made it so good. When I finished my first slice, I concluded that everything made the pizza good, from the crust to the toppings. The fresh, bright sauce must have been made with garden tomatoes straight from the farm, not the grocery store (though this is not confirmed, just conjecture). The chewy, dense crust was made from scratch and kneaded by hand—that I had witnessed for myself. And the cheese—which was silky, not rubbery and chewy—must be the product of some very happy cows nibbling on clean grass in a big open field. As for the basil, I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been plucked from a live plant moments earlier. While I chewed thoughtfully, enjoying the party going on in my mouth, I decided right then and there that if I had to choose my last meal on earth, this would be it. And then I would choose it as my first meal in Heaven.

320 South State Street #185

Orem, Utah 84058

801.623.6712

http://pizzeria712.blogspot.com/

Recipe: Easy Frenchie Chicken

NOTE: IF YOU CAN'T READ THE TEXT BECAUSE IT'S TOO SMALL, CLICK ON THE PICTURE WITH YOUR MOUSE TO ENLARGE IT.