People ask me all the time if I like to travel. I think the answer is supposed to be, “yes, I love it!” but honestly it’s a hard question for me to answer. There are parts I love – meeting and working with people from all over the world, spending hours wandering through a city that’s hundreds of years old, the food, experiencing more climates and geographies than I ever thought I would, and there’s even a small part of me that loves the glamour of “jetsetting,” of being handed a glass of champagne when I sit down and watching my passport fill up with stamps. Importantly, I also love my actual job, the reason I travel so much.

But there are also parts of travel that I hate – packing and unpacking, something that even with hours of practice still stresses me out. Airports, and canceled flights, and planes that catch on fire while you sit on the tarmac. The unavoidable low-level anxiety that accrues before any trip. Being perpetually tired, because days on the road start early with breakfast with our team and end late with long work dinners. The up and down, here and there frenzy of visiting two or more countries each month. Being always on. The constant tension between taking the weekend to explore whatever country I am in and going home to decompress and spend time with Trevor. The chaos of packing everything else I need to get done at home into the few days I have between trips. Mostly, I hate being gone, away, not at home. For me, this is less about the physical aspect of being in my house, although that’s important too, and more about being away from Trevor, my family, and my friends.

This weekend, though, I am home, and I am loving it. I am home and it is thrillingly sunny, the birds are chirping, and we slept with the windows open just a crack. I puttered about in the garden, planting flowers of every shade in our increasingly whimsical border garden, a grand experiment in color. I sat on the porch and drank pink lemonade and sunburned my legs because it’s shorts weather! And I made these biscuits, with ramps, because ramps are available now (and only now) and I am home now. These biscuits made the house smell incredible, and they are flaky and buttery and just cheesy enough. I had two of them, spread thickly with ramp butter, for dinner, along with half a bottle of rosé. It’s nice to be home.

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Ramp, Bacon, and Cheddar Buttermilk Biscuits

Recipe adapted from Serious Eats. Makes 10-12 biscuits.

• 3 pieces bacon
• 4-6 fresh ramps, thoroughly washed. roots trimmed and discarded, and white and green parts of ramp thinly sliced
• 2 c. all-purpose flour
•  1 TBS baking powder
• 1/4 tsp baking soda
• 1 1/2 tsp kosher salt
• 1 stick butter, frozen, plus 2 TBS melted butter for brushing biscuits
• 1 c. buttermilk, cold
• 4 oz. sharp cheddar cheese, grated

1. Preheat the oven to 425°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside
2. Heat a frying pan over medium heat. Add the bacon and cook until crispy and brown, about 3-4 minutes per side. Remove the bacon to a paper-towel lined plate and lower the heat to low. Add the sliced ramp whites and greens to the bacon grease and saute for 60 seconds, then use tongs or a slotted spoon to transfer the ramps to the plate with the bacon. Set plate aside; remove the pan from the heat and let cool.
3. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and kosher salt until evenly combined. Use a box grater to grate the frozen butter into the flour mixture, then use your hands to quickly toss the grated butter with the flour so that the flour fully coats the butter. Use your fingers to break up any large chunks of butter so that the entire mixture is coarse. Pour the cold buttermilk into the flour-butter mixture, and use a fork to gently mix the dough until it is shaggy and damp.
4. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and use a rolling pin to roll it into a 12 inch by 12 inch square, about 1 inch thick. Sprinkle the grated cheddar cheese and ramps over the top of the dough. Finely chop or crumble the cooked bacon and sprinkle over the top of the dough, pressing the bacon bits in slightly. Fold the dough like you would fold a letter – fold the left third of the dough over the middle then fold the right third of the dough over the first two thirds, making a stack of three layers. Repeat this motion from top to bottom, so you have a small square. Gently roll the dough back out into a 12 inch by 12 inch square. Use a biscuit cutter or glass to cut 3-inch rounds out of the dough, re-rolling or hand-forming any scraps into additional biscuits. Place the biscuits on the baking sheet and brush with the melted butter. Bake until golden brown, about 15-17 minutes. Remove from the oven and let cool slightly. Best served warm. Store any leftovers in the fridge.

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The Book: As I’ve told you in the past, I’m a sucker for good Southern food. Although I’m a New England girl through and through in most other aspects, the four years I spent in North Carolina were very formative for me in terms of learning to truly appreciate good food. Because of this, new Southern cookbooks get pride of place on my cookbook radar, and Heritage, the new cookbook from Sean Brock, was no exception. Hailing from “the part of Western Virginia that should have been Kentucky,” but receiving his culinary education in South Carolina, Brock makes food that has Southern roots both deep and wide. There’s a strong sense of purpose in the pages of Heritage – to embrace local food not only for its ethics and flavor, but for its history and story. I love how much narrative Brock has included in this book; it really helps me feel engrossed in the food’s history and culture. A strong emphasis on understanding your ingredients, where they came from, and how they can vary – for example, chicken is not just chicken, but poussin, broiler, fryer, roaster, or stew hen, depending on its age, and a different preparation is appropriate for each bird – completes the local, ethical, Southern vibe. The recipes skew more toward restaurant food than home-cooking, with multiple components and appliances required for many (the carefully composed plating of the photographed dishes will tip you off to this right off the bat). This isn’t a negative for an adventurous cook, but I do wish there were a few more homestyle dishes that would be easy to make and serve on a casual weeknight. Organized by source of food – the garden, the mill, the creek, the pasture- there is a great variety of recipe type, with a whole chapter dedicated to preserving (The Larder) and another one to cocktails and bar snacks (The Public House). Between the extensive narrative and the diverse recipes, most readers will find plenty to hold their interest in Heritage.

The Food: Trevor and I are big fans of cooking with rabbit, but we’ve had trouble finding recipes that really allow it to shine. This Russian Rabbit and Mushroom Pie is our favorite, but we were less impressed with the Rabbit Cacciatore from Pickles, Pigs & Whiskey. Sean includes a couple of rabbit recipes in Heritage, so we decided to give the Rabbit Stew with Black Pepper Dumplings a go. It’s similar to a rabbit stew we enjoyed at Alden & Harlow a few weeks back, and also one of the more straightforward recipes in the book. The stew is made by making a broth from the rabbit, then removing and shredding the rabbit meat, while thickening the broth with a roux. The dumplings (which are really biscuits) are formed and baked separately, then tossed in the stew for the last few minutes of cooking, which gives you more control over their size, shape and level of doneness. I have mixed feelings about the end result – the stew was certainly tasty, and even more so as leftovers the next day, but I’m not sure it was tasty enough to warrant the use of a rabbit in place of a less pricey chicken. This could have something to do with the quality of our rabbit, of course – there’s not a ton of choice for rabbit meat near us. I think it’s a recipe that I’d like to try again with some of my own tweaks, but a good starting point.

Recipe Shortlist: Low Country Hoppin’ John; Corn Goat Cheese Soup with Shrimp and Brown-Butter Chanterelles; Green Garlic Bisque with Herbed Buttermilk and Fried Green Tomato Croutons; Cracklin’ Cornbread; Charred Beef Short Ribs with Glazed Carrots and Black Truffle Puree; Rabbit Andouille with Braised Peppers and Lady Pea Gravy; Rhubarb Buckle with Poppy-Seed Buttermilk Ice Cream

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Disclaimer: I received a review copy of Heritage free of charge from Artisan, but I was not otherwise compensated and all thought and opinions are my own.

Rabbit Stew with Black Pepper Dumplings

Recipe adapted slightly from Heritage. Serves 6.

For the dumplings:

• 1 lb. (3 1/3 c.) pastry flour, sifted and chilled in freezer
• 1 1/2 tsp baking powder
• 1/2 tsp kosher salt
• 1 TBS freshly ground black pepper
• 8 TBS unsalted butter, frozen
• 1 1/2 c. ice cold whole-milk buttermilk

For the stew:

• 1 large rabbit (2-3 pounds)
• 4 c. small dice white onions
• 2 c. medium dice celery
• 2 c. medium dice carrots
• 2 thyme sprigs
• 1 bay leaf
• 2 TBS unsalted butter
• 1/4 c. flour
• 1 TBS soy sauce
• 1 TBS hot sauce
• sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

1. To make the dumplings: Preheat the oven to 375°F. Lightly butter a baking sheet. In a large bowl, combine the chilled flour, baking powder, salt, and black pepper. Whisk to combine. Grate the frozen butter over the medium holes of a box grater, and immediately place the cold grated butter into the flour mixture. Use the tips of your fingers to toss the butter with the flour and incorporate just until the texture resembles coarse sand (a few bigger “pebbles” are fine). Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface and knead until smooth, about 2 minutes. Roll the dough out into a circle about 1/2 inch thick, and use a very small pastry cutter to cut small round dumplings (about 1/2 inch to 1 inch in diameter – we used the bottom of an espresso cup as a cutter). Place the dumplings on the baking sheet and bake just until they start to dry, about 9-10 minutes. You don’t want the dumplings to brown at all, as they should finish baking in the stew. Set the dumplings aside at room temperature.
2. To prepare the stew: Remove the giblets from the rabbit. Place the rabbit in a large pot and cover with cold water. Bring to a simmer over high heat, skimming any scum from the top of the pot. Once simmering vigorously, add half of the onions, half of the celery, half of the carrots, the thyme, and the bay leaf. Reduce the heat to low, cover the pot, and simmer until broth is golden and rabbit meat pulls away easily from bone, about 1 hour to 90 minutes.
3. Remove the rabbit from the pot and let cool slightly. Strain the broth through a fine mesh strainer into a large bowl, discarding the solids left behind. Rinse the pot and return to the stove. Add the butter and melt over medium heat, then add the other half of the onions. Saute, stirring, until translucent, about 4 minutes. Add the celery and saute another 2 minutes, then add the carrots and saute until tender, another 8 minutes. Add the flour to the pot and stir so it absorbs the fat. Continue to stir the roux constantly until the flour coating the vegetables is no longer white but a light golden color, about 5-10 minutes. Stir in the reserved broth 1 cup at a time, allowing to thicken slightly between additions. Once all the broth is added, bring to a simmer and simmer for 25-30 minutes.
4. While the broth is simmering, remove the rabbit meat from the rabbit and shred into bite-sized pieces, discarding the bones, skin, and tendons. 5 minutes before serving, add the shredded rabbit, hot sauce, soy sauce, and dumplings to the stew and simmer until the dumplings are soft and the rabbit is warmed through, about 5 minutes. Serve immediately.

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The first thing I did with our strawberries was make jam. I know that for many people, jam is sort of a last resort thing, something they turn to when they’ve run out of ideas and their fruit is on its last legs. But I’ve been dreaming about filling my pantry with jars of strawberry jam, made from our very own strawberries, since the middle of winter, so for me getting a batch of jam on the shelves was my first priority. Canning still makes me a little nervous, but with every batch of preserving I get a bit more confident. This time around, I veered ever so slightly from the recipe I was using (Paul Virant’s Strawberry Pinot Noir Jam recipe from The Preservation Kitchen), adding a little bit more sugar (which, from what I understand, is basically always safe to do), and a whole vanilla bean. The resulting jam is sweet but not saccharine, loose but not runny, and very elegant. I only wish 2 pounds of strawberries made more than 3 little pint jars! It’s going to be torture to wait until fall to open the others, even though I know I’ll appreciate them much more when the prospect of meals based mainly on kale and sweet potatoes starts looming.

Of course, as delicious as jam is out of the jar, it’s still a condiment, and you typically need to serve it on something. As I waited for my canning jars to seal, my mind wandered off somewhere along the lines of “If you give a moose a muffin…” until it settled on black pepper buttermilk biscuits as the most appropriate companion for my strawberry pinot jam. Upon comparing a number of different biscuit recipes, I determined that the basic, accepted buttermilk biscuit recipe uses approximately the following ratio: 2 cups flour + 2 tsp baking powder + 1/2 tsp baking soda + 1 stick butter + 1 c. buttermilk, with a bit of variation from author to author. I followed this general guideline, used the frozen grated butter trick and added a few hefty teaspoons of freshly ground black pepper, and the resulting biscuits nearly stole the show from my poor jam. But really, they’re best together – cold and sweet strawberry jam filling in the nooks and crannies of hot and flaky buttery biscuits. And if for some strange reason you get tired of that combo, my next recommendation is to use these biscuits as a vehicle for bacon-egg-avocado sandwiches, with vanilla ice cream and strawberry jam for dessert, of course. Really, you can’t go wrong.

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Strawberry, Pinot Noir, and Vanilla Jam

Adapted from The Preservation Kitchen. Makes 3 half-pint jars.

• 2 lbs fresh strawberries, hulled and quartered
• 1 1/4 c. plus 2 TBS sugar
• 1/2 (750ml) bottle of Pinot Noir
• juice from 1/2 lemon
• 1/2 vanilla bean

1. In a wide, heavy-bottomed saucepan, combine the strawberries, sugar, wine and lemon juice. Split the vanilla bean down the middle, scraping the seeds into the berry mixture, then adding the bean pod. Bring the mixture to a boil, then reduce the heat slightly and simmer for 10 minutes, until the sugar is dissolved and the strawberries have released some of their juices. Cool to room temperature, cover, and refrigerate overnight or for up to 3 days to allow the berries to continue macerating.
2. On the day you will can the jam, fill a large pot or canner with water and bring to a simmer. Scald 4 half-pint jars in the hot water to sterilize, leaving them there and a gentle simmer until you are ready to can. Soak your lids and rings in hot water to soften the seals, and sterilize your other equipment.
3. Strain the juices from the berries into a large pot, reserving the fruit on the side. Place the juices over medium high heat and cook until they have reduced by half and have reached a temperature of 215°F, about 25 minutes. Add the fruit back to the juices and continue to cook, skimming any foam off the surface with a ladle, until the mixture has reached 212°F, another 15-20 minutes. If you don’t have a thermometer, test the consistency of a jam by dropping a few drops of liquid on a frozen plate – if the chilled liquid gels, then your jam is ready.
4. Drain the hot water from your jars, and place the hot jars on the counter. Use a funnel to fill the hot jars with the hot jam, leaving a 1/2 inch space between the top of the jam and the rim of the jar. Wipe the rim with a clean paper towel, then place the lids on the jars, and screw the rings on until snug but not tight. Use canning tongs to transfer the jars back into the simmering water, increase the heat to a boil, then boil the jars for 10 minutes. Turn off the heat and leave the jars in the water for a few minutes, then remove the jars from the water and let cool completely. Listen for a pop as you remove the jars from the water – that indicates a seal has properly been formed. Note: Do not process any jars that are only partially full – it is only safe to process full jars. Any partially full jars should be stored in the fridge and eaten within a few weeks.

Black Pepper Buttermilk Biscuits

Makes 12-15 biscuits.

• 2 c. AP flour
• 2 tsp baking powder
• 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 tsp coarse sea salt
• 1 1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
• 1 stick salted butter, frozen
• 1 c. cold buttermilk

1. Preheat the oven to 425°F. In a large bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and pepper. Grate frozen butter over the coarse holes of a box grater, then add the grated butter to the flour mixture. Use your fingers to gently toss the grated butter with the flour, fully coating the butter.
2. Pour the buttermilk into the flour mixture, and use a fork to gently mix them together, just until the dough is moistened. Don’t overmix. Lightly flour a work surface and turn the dough out onto it. Knead the dough 2-3 times, just until it comes together, then flatten into a disk that is 1/2 an inch thick. Use a round cookie cutter (about 2-inches in diameter) to cut out biscuits, pressing the scraps together when you’ve run out of room to create a smaller disk. Place the biscuits on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper.
3. Chill the biscuits in the fridge for 20 minutes, then transfer to the preheated oven. Bake until puffed and golden brown on the top and sides, about 15-18 minutes. Remove from the oven and serve immediately.

The post Ingredient of the Week: Strawberries // Black Pepper Buttermilk Biscuits with Strawberry Pinot Noir Jam appeared first on Katie at the Kitchen Door.