liv bites

My culinary instructor is full of words of wisdom. The other day she was preaching the importance of working efficiently, keeping our work spaces clean and putting things back where we got them, and she said, “How you do anything is how you do everything.”

Kind of makes you think twice before taking shortcuts.

Her advice was more relevant than ever on Friday, when my classmates and I spent all day making soufflés. It sounds awfully intimidating — we were joking about the classic image of “cooking fail,” the sadly deflated soufflé. But even though a few of the desserts came out with a little dip in the center, there were surprisingly zero disasters.

A soufflé is made from a base (appareil in French), which consists of egg yolks, sugar, flour, butter and milk in various quantities. Then, in a separate bowl, you whip egg whites until they’re stiff enough to form peaks. The trick is combining the contents of the two bowls precisely so that the whites keep their volume, which gives the soufflé that fluffy texture that made it famous.

Here’s a good tip, on that note: Even if the recipe calls for all the sugar to go into the base, reserve around half to sprinkle into the egg whites, and incorporate the sugar after the whites are stiff. The sugar helps stabilize the whites so they aren’t quite so fragile, and you’ll probably have more luck maintaining said texture and volume.

We made chocolate soufflés, soufflés with candied orange peel and Grand Marinier, fruit soufflés made with raspberries and blackberries, and apple soufflés with tons of seasonal spice. Needless to say, Friday wasn’t such a good eating day either. But how often do you get to taste 15 different soufflés at a time? The tasting is educational, folks.

I was in charge of the berry soufflé, which involved cooking the fruit down and straining it through a sieve to make a purée, which I ultimately incorporated into my base. You have to be extra careful with fruit desserts, because the berries contain so much sugar on their own and will burn in a second.

On that note, the berry purée should never be handled by anyone in a white jacket who wishes to keep their jacket white. I was covered in purple syrup after this little workshop, and now I’m a walking commercial for OxyClean. Seriously, my jackets are in the dryer without a speck of stain. Magic.

But back to desserts. If you like your soufflés to have more of a pudding-style texture in the middle, underbake it. Baking them longer will give them a more cakey texture, and baking them too long will make them sink. Sigh.

Such is the finicky soufflé, which led my instructor to also advise us, “A soufflé waits for no one.” Did you ever notice how restaurants will ask you at the beginning of the meal if you want the soufflé for dessert? That’s because the timing is brutal. They can estimate as closely as possible, but you better be ready when it’s ready — or you may be looking at a sunken soufflé.

In any case, enjoy the oohs and ahhs…

Because they always look like this after the first bite.

Monday night, for the first time in as long as I can remember, I wasn’t hungry for dinner.

That’s a sentence you’ve certainly never heard me utter on this blog, so let me explain. On Monday I consumed a truly obscene amount of pizza. It happened something like this.

I spent all weekend partying in Minneapolis for my best friend’s bachelorette party (woo hoo) only to return to San Francisco last night, exhausted, my body threatening to catch a cold. But I powered through, got a triumphant seven-and-a-half hours of sleep, and walked into school Monday morning looking forward to our pre-class baguette with jam and butter.

There was no bread to be found. Finally I whispered to a classmate who usually handles the bread, practically begging her to fetch me some. I watched her walk over and question our instructor about the matter, at which point I heard the instructor respond, “Ah, it’s frozen. Guess it’s too late now!”

Doom washed over me. Friends, I am not one to skip breakfast; I wake up every morning STARVING. I downed two glasses of water and doubled the amount of cream in my morning coffee, praying it would hold me over until lunch. Which is usually served around one, when I’ve already been hungry for hours.

We spent all day in a pizza workshop, cranking out one after another (and yes, I snuck a few bites of dough. Even that was appetizing). When finally dozens of pizzas began to make their way to the front counter for tasting, I didn’t bother to hold back.

There were Pesto Potato Pizzas (the French treat potatoes like a protein instead of a starch, so evidently this is not overkill)

Pizzas with caramelized onions, walnuts and blue cheese

Your basic Margherita Pizza, with a tomato sauce made from scratch

And calzones stuffed with five different types of cheese, herbs and prosciutto.

Considering the speed and proficiency with which I ate these pizzas, I’m surprised the rest of the class had any leftover for themselves. At some point around 3 pm, it occurred to me that I’d had much more pizza than is appropriate for breakfast and lunch combined, and that I was incredibly thirsty. I downed 2 glasses of water immediately, and the crust promptly quadrupled in my stomach. Oops. Apparently I went from the most dehydrated person in the world to the absolute fullest.

The Potato & Pesto combination was tastier than I expected, but it still wasn’t quite my cup of tea. The potatoes were boiled and sprinkled with herbs before being layered on top of the pesto, but they’re still so bland they require tons of seasoning (read: salt). With all the flavorful veggies out there (peppers, mushrooms, you name it) potatoes just weren’t doing it for me.

The caramelized onions were fabulous, and frankly you hardly need the nuts or the cheese as accompaniments flavor-wise. But the basic Margherita is always the one that has me going back for… fourths.

Now, a word about dough. As my instructor emphasized this morning, we all do it differently: Chicagoans swear by deep-dish, the classic Naples variety is world-famous, and New Yorkers will choose their mile-long slices any day. California-style generally means thinner crust, lots of bubbles and a dusting of cornmeal on the bottom.

In any case, the best crust always starts out very moist, so that it’s tricky to knead with your hands because it’s so sticky. It has plenty of time to rise and to rest. Be careful not to over-work it, or you won’t get the aforementioned bubbles we all strive for. My big take-away from the workshop was that every pizza crust I’ve ever made has contained WAY too much flour.

Another tip: Particularly when you’re working with a thin-crust pie, try to stop yourself from overloading on sauce and toppings. You’re just making it harder on yourself in the end, because it will weigh it down. On that note, it’s also a good idea not to add the toppings until right before the pizza goes in the oven, because the crust will get soggy if it’s left out for too long.

We worked with a pizza peel (dusted with rice flour, but Californians may want to sub cornmeal) and with a pizza stone that we left in the oven and cycled each one through. Since most home ovens don’t even come close to the temperatures that ideal wood-burning pizza ovens achieve (around 700 degrees) the pizza stone retains heat easily and helps mimic that high heat you want. Friends and family, consider one of these on my Christmas wish list — although I’ve heard an unglazed tile from Home Depot works just as well.

And now if you’ll excuse me, I better go get some exercise.

Recently at Tante Marie’s, it’s been all about the basics — meaning, in some cases, doing some of the old-fashioned kitchen stuff that’s out of vogue in the modern world. That’s a Tomato Chutney above, made with apple cider vinegar and a truly shocking amount of garlic — one of many delicious recipes to come out of the past couple of weeks.

Every Monday we have all-day workshops, meaning I’m on my feet cooking from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. It’s actually amazing how quickly time passes when you’re running from burner to pantry to sink to dishwasher all day, but I secretly love being in a hurry. It makes me feel like I’m on Top Chef and someone in my head is yelling, “We’re plating NOW!”

Each of us was given a different recipe in our session on canning; some were jams, some jellies, pickles, etc. I was in charge of the Artichokes Preserved in Oil, which meant a) peeling and trimming more baby artichokes than you’ve ever seen, b) boiling them for a while in vinegar to avoid contamination and c) piling them in jars with olive oil, sprinkled with whole peppercorns and cloves.

If you’re wondering why you have to boil them in vinegar, it’s because artichokes are a low-acid vegetable and therefore more vulnerable to bacteria or general “turning” — in other words, canning’s worst enemy. Other plants like lemons that have a higher acidity don’t require the vinegar step. And if you weren’t wondering at all, then just ignore this little side note.

I find the whole process of canning and preserving completely charming (friends can expect to receive jams as Christmas gifts this year, because I can’t wait to do more of it). And if you pick fruit at its peak in season, you don’t need nearly as much sugar to make a good jam, in contrast to the store-bought stuff. My instructor explained that canning went out of fashion after people got freezers in their homes, but these days it’s trendy for artisans to produce and sell high-quality jams and pickles in farmer’s markets and specialty stores. In San Francisco at least, sampling chutneys made from home-grown plums and white peaches is half the fun of visiting the Ferry Building.

If canning was a fun basic to learn, other weeks’ lessons were less appetizing. We learned how to cook flour-based sauces, which all start out with a roux (butter and flour cooked together) and branch off in different directions. Basically, imagine a delicate, flaky white fish smothered in an alfredo sauce, and you have an idea of my lunch. Behold:

Of course, it’s not all bad. I know understanding how to make flour-based sauces is an essential building block in French cuisine, even if restaurants barely use the traditional ones anymore. And the following week we moved onto emulsion sauces like mayonnaise and hollandaise, which were just as challenging but a little more relevant. Check out this Grand Aioli, a compilation of blanched shrimp and vegetables served with an aioli dip (read mayo + finely minced garlic). Isn’t it beautiful?

It’s a French tradition to serve this dish at parties, and it’s hard to imagine better finger food. But the real star of the emulsion sauce show was our Herbed Rack of Lamb with Béarnaise Sauce.

Hear me well: Of all the dishes we’ve sampled at cooking school so far, this one was hands-down my favorite. I actually stopped mid-bite, closed my eyes and savored every flavor in that sauce à la Giada de Laurentiis. Oh, and I get now why rack of lamb is SO expensive, and so worth every penny.

Who knew there were so many ways to combine eggs, sugar and milk into a classic French dessert? You’d be surprised.

Those were the main ingredients in the dishes my cooking class made during our Friday workshop, which was all about sweet custards. Each student cooked either Crème Brulée, Crème Caramel, Oeufs à la Neige or Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream, which all start out with the same combo.

I crossed my fingers hard for the Crème Brulée, because walking around the kitchen with a giant blowtorch is something of a fantasy. Instead, I was assigned to the dish I was least familiar with, the Oeufs à la Neige. It’s basically little blobs (canelles) of meringue poached in water and served over a base of Crème Anglaise (custard). Then you drizzle caramel on top. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself for actually finishing it (after one discarded pan of caramel) and for some Jackson Pollock-style drizzling effects.

The Crème Caramel (I’ve got one in my own oven as I type!):

The Ice Cream, made with real vanilla beans and served with an incredible caramel sauce. It involved making caramel on the stove, adding in some hot milk and rounding it out with butter, and it was every bit as rich as it sounds.

And finally, the Crème Brulée.

My instructor invited interested parties to try their hand at the torch after the custard finished baking, so my wish came true! After the custard is cooked, you pour a very generous layer of white sugar on the surface and then torch it, moving the flame constantly so as not to char it beyond recognition.

Clearly, we’re all still learning on that last part.

Today was a menu day at school, so each student prepared a different course for our very involved lunch. For the first time, I was working with the appetizer, Artichokes à la Barignole, or braised artichokes.

I’ve never seen artichokes cooked this way, but I think it’s pretty genius so I wanted to share. We trimmed them and boiled them in salted water before removing the chokes and inner leaves, and then we just let them simmer in a pot with carrots, celery, onion, ham and stock. Here’s the best part: You serve them standing up in soup bowls, stuffed with all of those sauteed goodies, and then you pour some sauce around the edge. That’s for mopping up with your bread.

The French really know a thing or two about presentation.

I’ve been thinking quite a bit about the endless possibilities for this style of artichoke: Prosciutto, garlic and mushrooms is one that keeps coming to mind. Or purists could even serve it this way with a ring of lemon butter sauce around the artichoke and a sprinkle of herbs on top. Who needs a soup course?

The rest of the menu consisted of Ratatouille, Potatoes Savoyarde and Roasted Leg of Lamb with Garlic Sauce. And of course, an incredibly decadent homemade Hostess Cake for dessert. I now know how to make a chocolate cake and whipped cream roll-up!

That wasn’t the only artichoke-centric creation to come out of this week. More to come tomorrow…

Thank you all so much for your votes for Project Food Blog! Sadly my entry wasn’t chosen to go on to the next round, but in all honesty, I’m not too disappointed. I have enough on my plate now that school’s started, and I was wondering how I’d get everything done. And as my friends and family know, I hardly need an excuse to throw a fancy dinner party, anyway!

Oh, and as you can see from the photo above, I did get to make that French Onion Soup after all. Being in control of the process from the beginning of the beef stock to the final broiling of the cheese was a truly educational treat!

Thursday was another menu day at Tante Marie’s, meaning my classmates and I threw together a multi-course lunch, with each person working on a different dish. I was charged with cooking the entrée, Steak au Poivre. It’s a classic French dish, a New York steak seared in a frying pan with crushed peppercorns, and it hardly took any time to make. That’s why I also got to make Mexican Wedding Cookies while my steak was sitting out, absorbing the seasonings.

Others may know this already, but as a newbie to Mexican Wedding Cookies, I was surprised to learn they contain no eggs — just flour, sugar, butter, vanilla and chopped pecans or walnuts. I don’t think I’ve ever made cookies sans eggs (well, at least not intentionally; my assistant will remember a certain Coconut Almond Joy Cookie disaster). Then they’re tossed and turned in powdered sugar to form a thin, sweet coating. With a substantial amount of butter but no eggs, these cookies literally dissolve in your mouth. They’re a perfect treat after dinner or a picnic, when you don’t want anything too heavy but just a bite of something sweet. I’m definitely going to try these at home.

Anyway, the rest of Thursday’s menu included mushrooms stuffed with herbs and prosciutto that was actually by another class during their culinary course. Needless to say, I can’t wait to get to that part — apparently we break down a whole pig and use every part. We also enjoyed mashed potatoes piped out of a pastry bag and broiled, along with a dessert of lemon mousse and fresh berries. Lovely.

But the after-lunch demonstration was the best part, because we watched my instructor make French Bread from scratch. I’ve been experimenting with bread baking lately, so I was especially interested to see how the pros do it. And I am sufficiently impressed with her kneading and forming skills — it definitely isn’t as easy as it looks.

The number one tip I’ve learned about making bread is to be patient. If you’re supposed to let it rise for an hour and a half, wait the whole hour and a half before going to the next step. It’ll be worth it when you’re bread comes out of the oven perfectly fluffy. Also, buy bread flour instead of using all-purpose. I’ve done it both ways and after tasting side by side, the bread flour gives you the yeasty taste and the spongy texture that everyone loves about artisanal breads.

In fact, I mixed up some dough yesterday, let it rise, and then baked it this morning the right way. The shape was totally lumpy and unprofessional looking, but I was very pleased with the taste and texture. Must work on forming the dough at the end there.

Today for lunch I had Tomato and Spinach Croustades, Tarragon Chicken, Garlic Roasted Potatoes and Haricots Verts, rounded out with a dessert of Chocolate Mousse. What about you?

I’m only bragging because I’m giddy from my second day as a culinary student, which was much more comfortable and fun than my first. The nerves must be calming. On Tuesdays and Thursdays we have menu classes, meaning we prepare a multi-course meal for lunch, and each student is in charge of a different course (appetizer, entrée, sides or dessert).

I was initially disappointed today when I was not assigned to any of the lunch courses, but instead put in charge of making a dark beef stock. After all, I actually wanted to serve something I cooked!

I spent all morning roasting beef bones and shanks and browning vegetables. Then I deglazed the roasting pan to preserve the juices, covered every last bone and veggie with water, and allowed the mixture to simmer on the stove throughout the entire afternoon. In the end, I couldn’t have been happier: Not only did I get to take charge of a complicated process and see it through ALL DAY to the end, I also experienced the hands-on version of yesterday’s demonstration, which was very satisfying. I feel like I can check one major building block off my list already.

And tomorrow we’ll be using all that savory stock to make bubbling French Onion Soup Gratinée, complete with broth-soaked baguette and broiled gruyère cheese. Needless to say, I’m pretty excited.

Garlic Soup with Croutons

The afternoon was spent watching my instructor giving a presentation on four different kinds of soups: French Onion, Garlic (puréed with potato and leeks), Roasted Butternut Squash (actually Kabocha squash) and Cream of Lettuce Soup. Yes, Cream of Lettuce — the French use it just as we use greens like spinach and chard. And I can now attest the flavor is actually quite delicate and surprisingly delicious.

Tante Marie’s teaches students to cook in quantities suitable for home cooks, but I love that my instructor always gives us tips on presentation as if we were serving dishes in a restaurant. Check out the garnishes — this one is actually a savory whipped cream. Genius.

Cream of Lettuce Soup

Soups should always be served in heated bowls with a plate underneath, and the garnish should represent or complement what’s actually in the soup. That means chives work with a potato-based soup, a cream of mushroom soup should be garnished with chopped mushrooms, and so on.

Butternut Squash Soup

I have to take a second and admire these dishes after my instructor finishes plating them. Maybe it’s the Southerner in me; in Mississippi we know food tastes better on a well-set table.

Today was my first day as a full-time culinary student at Tante Marie’s Cooking School. I even have the checkered pants and monogrammed chef’s jacket to show for it.

I arrived at 9:15 to open doors, where my instructor was arranging fresh produce for the day’s lesson. I sipped a cup of coffee, slipped into my shiny new jacket (yes, I feel very professional) and skimmed over the course materials while more people in unflattering checkered pants trickled in.

After seeing classes like”Dessert Souffles,” “Antipasti & Stuffed Pasta” and “Chinese Braising” listed, my excitement only grew. As did my nerves, of course, but they were overshadowed by the anticipation.

But let’s get back to basics. After a brief orientation, my classmates and I were instructed on the foundation of all cooking: knife skills. There is a proper way to chop vegetables (and everything else), and it’s not savagely, using the first knife you find. Here’s the trick: Get a big chef’s knife (around 8 to 10 inches), and pinch the base of the blade between your thumb and forefinger. Wrap the rest of your fingers around the handle, and use your left hand like a claw to hold whatever you’re chopping in place. Now chop, but move in a nice fluid motion instead of straight up and down, keeping the tip of the blade on the counter and rocking the length of it back and forth.

You may have known that already, but I didn’t. Nor did I know that pesto is best made in a mortar, because you can perfectly bruise the basil leaves, releasing the flavors. Or that a bouquet garni (made of thyme, parsley and bay leaves wrapped up in a leek leaf) belongs in every homemade stock.

After a lunch of a light salad and Soupe au Pistou, which we made from all our chopped vegetables, we sat down for a demonstration on two basic stocks: Light Chicken Stock and Dark Veal Stock. For the record, I’ve never made a stock from scratch but have bought boxes of it in the supermarket more times than I can count. And I am officially ashamed, because I’ve apparently just been purchasing sodium juice.

Weekend plan: Make at least a gallon of veal stock to freeze for the winter. I’ll need it, because traditional French Onion Soup Gratinée is on the menu for tomorrow’s lesson plan.

Just wanted to give everyone a taste of what my first day included, since there was more learning involved right from the beginning than I’d dared hope. I’m not allowed to post any school recipes on the blog — that’s what I’m paying them for, right? — but I will keep updating it with details about what I’m learning. Questions and comments encouraged!

Apparently Friday’s school schedule involves a field trip to Sonoma for wine tasting and a picnic. These studies are grueling, indeed.

As you may have guessed from my post yesterday for Project Food Blog’s second challenge, I’m still a contestant in Foodbuzz’s competition to find the Next Food Blog Star. Thanks so much to everyone who supported me in the first round!

I sincerely hope that all of you — and ideally your friends, extended families, and whoever else you can recruit — would be so kind as to vote again this week, so that I’ll advance again to the next challenge. Here’s a teaser for you: Up next is hosting a Luxury Dinner Party for a group of friends, which is basically my favorite thing to do. If I make it that far, I promise to pull out all the stops and show off some true Mississippi hospitality.

You can click on the Project Food Blog ad on this page to cast your vote, or click here. And another BIG thank you to everyone for your support!

Last night I prepared a meal that contained no cheese. No sweet potatoes, no balsamic vinegar. Not even a pinch of chopped basil. Who is this girl?

The second challenge in Foodbuzz’s Project Food Blog asks contestants to go outside their comfort zones and prepare a classic dish from a foreign cuisine. Admittedly, the first thing that came to mind was Chicken Tikka Masala, because I’ll take any excuse to indulge in a creamy tomato sauce. But then I started to think of all the ethnic foods that I literally know zilch about cooking.

One of my favorite memories from studying abroad in Paris my junior year of college was a weekend trip I took to Marrakech, Morocco with my two best friends from high school. We were only there for two nights, but walking through the colorful markets (souks), seeing rows upon rows of vibrant spices, handmade shoes and pottery and rich fabrics made for a jaw-dropping welcome. And then there was the food.

We ate dinner one night with a Moroccan-born English teacher with a penchant for Bob Dylan, and his sister-in-law served us a roasted chicken with fresh oranges and bananas. We all ate sitting around a table together, picking chicken off the bones with our fingers, and to this day the only comparable chicken I’ve had was at the critically-acclaimed Zuni in San Francisco. The next night we dined at Le Foundouk, an upscale restaurant known for their chicken, lamb and beef tagines, or slow-cooked stews full of meat, vegetables and more spices than you can imagine.

Confession: Besides soup, I’ve never really slow-cooked anything in my life. I have a very American need for instant gratification, even when it comes to cooking (this is also why I rarely allow dough to rise for a full hour, shamefully). Nor do I know much about the proper uses for turmeric. I do, however, have a clay pot that my dad bought for me at Toque Blanche in Half Moon Bay, designed exactly for making these kinds of dishes. I’d been a little too intimidated to try it out over the past few months, so I knew it was now or never.

In sum, I used new kitchen equipment, new cooking techniques and new ingredients to pull off this meal, Moroccan Lamb Tagine. My mom has always said if you can read a recipe, you can cook, so I was counting on some help from the pros.

The recipe I used as a base was a Moroccan Lamb Tagine in Paula Wolfert’s book Mediterranean Clay Pot Cooking, a version of which was published here by the LA Times. I wanted another vegetable besides tomatoes and onions in there, so I added carrots, which are a common ingredient in many tagines. I also tweaked the spice mixture, because again, they’re all a little different (I checked out a few different recipes for ideas on spices and was sure to keep it authentic).

The great thing about these clay pots, which cook basically identically to Moroccan tagines, is that you can use them on the stove or in the oven. Still, lower temperatures are better to avoid cracks, and you should be careful about using them on top of a direct flame on the stove. My original recipe called for a heat diffuser to avoid that problem, but since I don’t have one, I did the whole thing in the oven. Either method works well, though the timing is a little different.

So here’s how it all happened…

First, I prepped my veggies. That meant peeling and quartering six Roma tomatoes lengthwise, chopping up two big carrots, and grating a red onion. Why have I never thought to grate an onion before!? I also used two other red onions, which I just sliced thinly.

Then I soaked golden raisins in warm water for 15 minutes. This is what they looked like after the soak — so plump.

Next was the lamb. I used pieces cut from the leg, which a helpful woman at the meat market recommended for stews. I just trimmed all the fat off and cut it up into smaller cubes about one to 1.5 inches thick.

I placed the grated onion and lamb into my clay pot with a bunch of spices — see the cinnamon stick? — and a little oil and butter. I cooked the mixture in a 400 degree oven for about 10 minutes, just to get the spices to open up. Then I added a little water to bring it all to a boil.

I added the sliced onions, raisins and tomatoes on top of the lamb and cooked the whole thing, covered, for 2 hours in a 350 degree oven.

After two hours I drained the pot of all its juice, and then brought the juice to a boil in a separate small pot. I reduced it down to about 3/4 a cup of liquid, poured it back over the top, and added a little cinnamon sugar on top of that. Then I cooked the whole thing for 45 minutes, uncovered.

When I took it out, it looked like this. And my kitchen smelled unbelievable.

I served the tagine over a fluffy couscous, garnished with some fresh parsley. And a big glass of wine in the foreground, of course.

Moroccan Lamb Tagine

Adapted from the Moroccan Lamb Tagine in Mediterranean Clay Pot Cooking by Paula Wolfert

Ingredients (Makes 4 servings):

2 pounds leg of lamb meat, cubed

1/3 cup golden raisins

1/2 cup hot water, plus more for soaking raisins

3 red onions, 1 grated and 2 thinly sliced

2 tsp. Moroccan spice mixture (see recipe below)

1/4 tsp. cayenne pepper

1/8 tsp. saffron threads

1 cinnamon stick

Salt

1 tbsp. butter

3 tbsp. extra virgin olive oil, divided

6 Roma tomatoes, peeled, seeded and quartered lengthwise

Pepper

1.5 tbsp. sugar mixed with 1 tsp. ground cinnamon

2 cups dry couscous

4 cups water

2 tbsp. chopped parsley

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Trim excess fat from lamb and cut into 1-inch to 1.5-inch cubes.

Soak raisins in warm water for 15 minutes.

Place lamb, grated onion, Moroccan spice mixture, cayenne, saffron, cinnamon stick, 1 tsp. salt, butter and half the olive oil in the tagine (or clay pot, in my case). Cook covered in the oven for 10 minutes. Remove from oven, and add 1/2 cup water. Cover meat mixture with drained raisins and sliced onion, and place tomatoes, cut side down, on top. Cover pot, reduce heat to 350 degrees, and cook for 2 hours.

Drain liquid from clay pot into a separate small pot or saucepan. Bring liquid to a boil and reduce to 3/4 cup. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Remove cinnamon stick from clay pot, and pour the reduced liquid over the tomatoes. Sprinkle sugar and cinnamon mixture on top. Bake uncovered for another 45 minutes.

Turn oven to broil and add remaining oil to clay pot. Cook for 5 minutes.

Combine couscous and water in a large pot with a pinch of salt, and bring to boil. Cook for about 5 minutes, fluffing occasionally with a fork until the liquid has been absorbed.

Serve contents of clay pot over couscous, and top with parsley.

As I mentioned before, every tagine recipe has a different spice mixture, so I looked at several before coming up with the combination I wanted to use for this recipe. I definitely learned that it helps to see what other people are doing, but you can also work with the contents of your spice cabinet pretty easily.

Moroccan Spice Mixture

Ingredients:

1 tbsp. ground turmeric

1 tsp. cumin

1 tsp. salt

1 tsp. black pepper

2 tsp. cinnamon

1 tsp. nutmeg

1/3 tsp. cayenne pepper

1/2 tsp. allspice

The verdict? I’m a slow-cooking convert. The lamb was so tender when cooked for hours in the hot liquid (surprise, surprise), and so much of the work is hands-off that it didn’t feel like a chore. And as for the flavors… Wow. I’ve already vowed to use cinnamon in savory dishes as often as possible.

My clay pot may be my new best friend, and I have a feeling it’s going to get quite the workout in a few months, when winter soups are on the menu. But for now, I’m still enjoying leftovers.