Peanut Butter and Purple Onions

Guess Where I've Been?

2006-09-25T05:32:00.000-04:00

Here's a clue.

Ahh, Italy. This is a morning view from our hotel room in Portovenere, at the tail end of the Cinque Terre region on the Ligurian Sea. Isn't it amazing?

Don't even get me started on what pesto tastes like in its homeland!

More from me soon -- need to unpack, then start re-packing for the big move to San Francisco. And cooking? Well...that may have to wait for October!

Hope everyone's been well!

La Festa al Fresco: Peachy Caprese

2006-09-01T14:18:00.000-04:00

So this is all very frustrating, because just when I made something really pretty, my camera has to go missing. Fie! Blast! PIFFLE!

Perhaps it's suffering from stagefright.

Sigh. If it turns up, I'll add the pictures, but I fear that you'll just have to use your imaginations for this one.

Lis from La Mia Cucina and Ivonne of Creampuffs in Venice are hosting an end of summer garden gala -- for which we are all presenting dishes with an Italian flair and showcasing fresh summer ingredients. How could I resist??

Now, I've been ruminating on insalata caprese lately, that jeweled combination of ripe tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, and fragrant basil. Gorgeous as it is to look at, I've never so much as had a bite. That's because although I worship fervently at the altars of fresh mozzarella and basil, I don't eat raw tomatoes. (And that's sort of putting it lightly.)

But it's such a summery salad that I've always felt a bit put out about shunning it. (I am a creature of inner conflict.) When it comes to raw tomatoes and BNA, never the twain shall meet, but I wanted to make something in the caprese vein nonetheless.

Why not replace the tomatoes with something unexpected (for me at least) -- peaches? A perfectly ripe peach is such a wonderful thing that I never want to meddle with it. And so most of mine are eaten as they are, slurpily, over the kitchen sink. But perhaps I'd been underestimating the power of the fresh summer peach.

I sliced two peaches horizontally (a tricky proposition; don't slice your palm like, ahem, I did) and layered them with thick coins of fresh mozzarella -- the ruddy gold and creamy white were lovely together. I'm not bashful about basil so no shredding or mincing for me -- two whole leaves for each fruit and cheese layer, though I chose tender ones rather than those with thick ribs.

Then I drizzled a thin stream of my best extra-virgin olive oil over the plate and sprinkled on a bit of good balsamic vinegar. (Here you have to imagine a very nice photo. Go on, be kind to my photographic skills.)

The combination is wonderful -- the juiciness of the peach brings out the sweetness of the cheese, and the basil adds a bright splash at the end. Next time I might even try a bit of fresh ground pepper.

Now that's a BNA-approved insalata caprese!

I hope you enjoy Lis and Ivonne's Festa al Fresco! Happy Summer!

Color Swap

2006-08-27T18:58:00.000-04:00

Devorit: So here's what I don't understand.
BNA: What? The appeal of culottes?
D: That too. But I speak of your blueberry obsession.
B: What of it?
D: You never used to be such a blueberry freak.

B: This is true.
D: In fact...
B: Blueberries were your gig.
D: Precisely.
B: Strawberries were my fruit.
D: Blue is mine!
B: I did favor red.
D: In. All. Things.
B: Hey, that Christmas tree story is exaggerated.
D: You mean how the entire tree had a skirt of red ornaments illustrating how high you could reach?
B: It was an artistic choice!
D: I'm not giving in on this swap over to blue, just so you're clear.
B: Not even for a blueberry lemon (almond) muffin?
D: ...did you just pronounce a parenthetical?
B: Or a slice of Karina's blueberry bread?
D: This isn't over, youngling.

Blueberry Lemon (Almond) Muffins
Adapted from Cooking Light

1 1/2 c. all-purpose unbleached flour
1/2 c. fine polenta
1/2 c. sugar
1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. kosher salt
three shakes Penzeys Baking Spice
1 c. blueberries, fresh or frozen (unthawed)
1 c. lf buttermilk
1 T. grated lemon zest
1 egg, preferably organic and free-range, lightly beaten
3 T. unsalted butter, melted
1/4 tsp. almond extract
vanilla sugar, optional

Heat the oven to 400 and spray a muffin tin with baking spray.

Mix the dry ingredients through the baking spice together. Add the blueberries and mix gently.

In another bowl, combine the wet ingredients through the extract. Make a well in the dry ingredients and pour in the wet stuff. Mix just to combine; overmixing makes unhappy muffins.

Scoop the surprisingly fluffy batter into the prepared muffin tins and sprinkle the tops with vanilla sugar. Bake 20 minutes or until nicely golden brown. Remove from the pan immediately and cool on a wire rack.

Notes:
* I like to add the Baking Spice to give the muffins a hint of warmth in the background. You can substitute cinnamon if you don't have the Baking Spice.
* The almond will be in the background as well -- thus the parenthetical in the name.
* The polenta gives the muffins a bit of crunch and a sturdier structure.

Karina's Blueberry Bread
Adapted from Cooking By Moonlight

2 1/2 c. unbleached all-purpose flour
3 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1 c. sugar
2/3 c. brown sugar, firmly packed
1/4 tsp. Penzeys Cake Spice
2 eggs, preferably organic and free-range, lightly beaten
1/2 c. melted butter
1 1/2 tsp. real vanilla extract
1/2 c. nf milk
1 c. blueberries, fresh or frozen (unthawed), tossed in a sprinkle of flour

Heat the oven t0 350 and spray a 9-inch loaf pan with baking spray.

Whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt, then add the sugars and the Cake Spice. Make a well.

In another bowl, mix the wet ingredients, then pour into the well and mix gently to just combine. Add the berries and stir them in gently. Spoon the batter into the prepared pan.

Bake 50 minutes to an hour or until a knife comes out clean. (I like to rotate quick breads like this 180 degrees in the oven at the halfway mark to ensure even browning.) After cooling the bread in the pan for about fifteen minutes, remove it to cool completely on a wire rack.

Notes:
* Karina specifies fine sea salt, which I didn't have. I used kosher salt and the measurement seemed to work well.
* Tossing the berries with a little flour will help prevent them from bleeding into the batter.
* This is a very sweet bread, almost a cake -- absolutely delicious. It lasted approximately 2 days in our apartment. Thanks Karina!!

WCB #62 -- "Helper" Kitty

2006-08-19T09:36:00.000-04:00

So there I was, fiddling with the camera and trying to get a shot of what I think will be the last big blueberry glut of the summer, when --

...an orange blur dashed through the frame.

Of course it was Widget. At any given time, it's a good bet that he's somewhere he's not supposed to be. He probably thinks he's being helpful. Or, being Widget, he thinks he's being UNhelpful and that pleases him to no end.

This installment of Weekly Cat Blogging is hosted by Heather at Heather's Space. Go see all the other furbeasts -- hopefully in more detail than mine!

An Ugly Duckling Crostata

2006-08-17T20:44:00.000-04:00

A crostata is such a friendly, forgiving dessert. The dough comes together with hardly any effort in the food processor -- even pie-crust-phobes like myself can do it. Any high-quality jam that catches your eye can become a silky jewel-like filling (although you'll want to consider the seed issue). And the free-form shrug of a structure is so much less intimidating than, say, a lattice-weave crust.

Which is not to say that my blueberry crostata isn't -- well, misshapen is putting it kindly. Next time I would spend a little more time keeping the edge even. But isn't this why klutzes like me adore rustic desserts?

Blueberry Crostata
Adapted from Giada de Laurentiis

Serves 6-8ish.

1.5 c. all-purpose, unbleached flour
2 T. granulated sugar
juice and zest of one big lemon
1/4 tsp. kosher salt
10 T. unsalted butter, chilled and cut into half-inch pieces
3 T. ice water
3/4 c. high-quality blueberry preserves
1/2 c. fresh blueberries

In a food processor, combine the flour, sugar, zest, and salt. Add the butter and pulse until the mixture looks like coarse meal. Add the ice water gradually, pulsing the dough, until it begins clumping together. Gather the dough out of the processor, shape it into a ball and then flatten it into a rough disk, and wrap it in plastic wrap. Chill about an hour.

Heat your oven to 400. On a large piece of parchment paper or Silpat, roll out the dough into a more or less 11-inch round. Move the dough and paper/Silpat to a large baking sheet. Mix together the preserves and the lemon juice, then spread over the dough, leaving a two-inch border. Fold the border over the edges of the filling, being as careful as you can to seal up cracks. (As you can see from the top picture, we had some leakage. Oh well.) Sprinkle the fresh berries over the jam.

Bake until golden, about 40 minutes. Let the crostata cool about ten minutes before moving it off the sheet. Best lukewarm with strong coffee.

Notes:
* Almost any jam or preserves will do; you may want to stay away from very sour preserves.
* Next time I would paint the crostata with a light egg wash before baking.

Thatsa Spicy Turkey Burger!

2006-08-09T16:34:00.000-04:00

I don't know how I ever lived without my grill pan, I really don't. I think I bring it out at least three times a week these days. Of course, this also means that Dimples has become quite adroit at dismantling our smoke alarm. Things do smoke prodigiously on the grill pan, and since our alarm's overly sensitive as it is, it's getting as much of a workout as the pan. Our neighbors are probably wondering what our fascination with flame is.

Anyway, the Patient Co-Worker came over last weekend and we hauled out the grill pan for a round of spicy turkey burgers. These are quick to shape and easy to grill. People often complain that turkey burgers are dry, but here the moisture from the mayo, chile, and cheese keeps them moist and juicy. Garnish with generous dollops of barbeque sauce or chipotle mayo.

Spicy Turkey Burgers
Adapted from some cooking magazine

Makes 4 patties.

1.5 lbs. ground turkey breast (preferably organic)
1/4 c. dried breadcrumbs
kosher salt
freshly-ground black pepper
one jalapeno chile, minced
2 T. reduced-fat mayo
1/2 c. shredded pepper jack (cheddar will work in a pinch)
buns and condiments of choice

Heat your grill pan over medium-high heat.

Mix the breadcrumbs, chile, mayo, cheese, 1 tsp. salt and 1/2 tsp. pepper in a large bowl. Add the turkey and gently mix to combine. Divide into four equal portions and gently shape into 4-inch patties. Press your thumb into the center of each to create a small depression (this will keep the burgers from "doming" on the grill).

Salt and pepper both sides of the burgers. Grill 5-8 minutes per side and serve with whatever you like.

Periodic Randomly-Selected Ireland Photo #1

2006-08-06T17:18:00.000-04:00

Fair warning -- this has essentially nothing to do with food.

Two Novembers ago, my sister Devorit, my friend Gadget, my cousin, her husband, and I took advantage of surprisingly low airfares to jet over to Ireland. We spent, what, eight days or so driving through the hills and dales, more or less following a loop from Dublin to Limerick to Cork and back to Dublin (and with many frolics and detours in between).

I've been meaning to try to duplicate a Guinness gravy over which we oohed and aahed at an obscure golf club restaurant in the middle of an Irish nowhere, come to think of it. I'll add that to my list of things to really try to accomplish in 2006.

So anyway, Devorit had our mother's digital camera and she took gadzillions of pictures. And yes, that is a technical term. My photo program shudders when I click on that folder. The "I'm working, please wait" hourglass that blinks onto the screen has a plaintive cast. Plus, when I uploaded them, the pictures unfortunately got shuffled out of order. So I've rather shamefully never gone through them, really. Too intimidating a task.

Now yesterday I was looking for a different picture when my eye fell on the Ireland photo folder. And in a moment of whimsy, I opened it and clicked at random. And this is what I saw:

Indiscriminate dumping: RIGHT OUT.
Discriminate dumping: carry on.

Thus begins a PBPO occasional series: randomly-selected Ireland photos. Stay tuned.

Satellite Dish of Love

2006-08-05T13:59:00.000-04:00

Steaming has always seemed oddly exotic to me. Maybe because my strongest associations of using steam to cook are the times our father’s College Roommate visited, the double boiler appeared from the back of the cupboard, and they made their own pastrami sandwiches. He was a odd yet fascinating guy, and he did perhaps the greatest cannonballs ever, but that list we’ve started of things not to ask BNA? Yeah, don’t mention the Cool-i-coo Incident. Let’s just agree not to get between my sister and her ice cream sandwiches, ok?

But I digress.

Steaming. Hadn’t really seen it done, didn’t know how to do it. Then there was the mysterious vapor aspect. So imagine my delight when it turned out to be (of course) totally easy.

So now I’m entranced with my shiny, new, collapsible steamer dish. I’ve made some pretty nifty cabbage rolls that we’ll discuss when I’ve tweaked them a bit more, but of late I’ve been focusing on wontons. Little packages of steamy goodness.

Pork Wontons

Adapted from Alton Brown and another recipe I cannot for the life of me remember

1 lb ground pork
½ c. scallions, chopped finely
Grated ginger … I start with about a teaspoon and go by smell
1 TBS minced garlic
1 egg, beaten
1 TBS oyster sauce
Lrg. squirt of ketchup (optional)
Sm. squirt of yellow mustard (also optional . . .always smells better to me with it)
1 TBS sesame oil (BNA inquired toasted or not . . .dunno, and the bottle is AWOL. . . .so, your choice)
½ teaspoon red pepper flakes, then usually more
Salt and pepper

1 pkg. (16 oz) wonton wrappers

Mix the ingredients in a bowl; I’ve decided putting on a pair of rubber gloves and squishing it together makes for great mixing, and great clean up. Once it’s all mixed and smells spicy and gingery enough for you, start spooning a teaspoon or a little less of the mixture onto a flat wonton wrapper. Brush the edges with a bit of water, and fold them on up. After trying several different sealing techniques, I’ve settled on pinching the wrappers into “necks”; seems quickest and least prone to structural failure.

(Yes. Our father is an engineer. How did you know?)

A couple of inches of water in a pot, the wontons arrayed around the steamer dish, and 8-10 minutes later, they’re ready for dipping in Sriracha or soy sauce. Makes at least 35 . . .I’ve gotten 50 out of the recipe when the stars have properly aligned.

Archive-Digging

2006-08-02T17:49:00.000-04:00

...too hot to cook, as I'm sure many of you can attest, so here's something from the archives.

I made this several months ago when Dimples was craving a plate of hearty pasta and I was not interested in spending hours working over a ragu. The chicken thighs give the sauce enough heft to satisfy his request, and are easy enough for mine.

Chicken Ragu
Adapted from Giada de Laurentiis

Serves 6ish.

2 T. olive oil
1 1/2 lbs. boneless, skinless chicken thighs, finely chopped
1/2 c. shallots, finely choped
1 T. minced garlic
2 tsp. finely chopped fresh rosemary
2/3 c. dry white wine
4 c. marinara sauce
1 lb. dried linguine
1/2 c. freshly grated Parmesan

Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the chicken and cook, stirring from time to time, until the chicken is a pretty golden-brown and the juices have more or less vanished. Add the shallots, garlic, and rosemary and saute a couple of minutes. Pour in the wine, stirring up the brown bits, and then the marinara. Bring to a simmer, then reduce to medium-low heat and simmer gently about ten minutes.

Meanwhile, cook the pasta. Drain, reserving some of the pasta water, and add the linguine to the sauce, tossing to coat. If it looks dry, add some pasta water to loosen it up.

Transfer to a serving bowl, sprinkle with cheese, and go to it!

In Which We Are Reminded That I Am Slow to Learn

2006-07-26T17:31:00.000-04:00

Devorit: Well hello there.
BNA: ...Hey-lo.
D: Uh-oh.
B: What?
D: You've quite obviously done something you shouldn't have.
B: Look, the older sister spider-sense-of-troublemaking doesn't work over transcontinental phone lines.
D: Oh yeah? Then how do I know that you've been baking in humidity again?
B: ...Lucky guess.
D: Uh-huh. A little stubborn, are we?
B: I had the almond flour. It was calling my name.
D: I know that you're not going to tell me that you tried to make macaroons when you're in rain-forest conditions.
B: Maybe that spider sense doesn't work so well after all.
D: Oh BNA.
B: What? Ok, so I had to double the amount of almond flour. So what?
D: ...Verdict?
B: Excellent.
D: Carry on.

Ricciarelli
Adapted from Nigella Lawson's How to Be a Domestic Goddess

Makes about 30 cookies.

2 large egg whites
pinch of salt
3/4 c. sugar
zest of one lemon
1/2 tsp. top-quality vanilla extract
1 tsp. top-quality almond extract
1 1/3 c. ground almonds (sometimes labeled as almond flour)
confectioner's sugar for dusting (optional)

Whisk the egg whites and salt until they're stiff and dry. Gradually whisk in the sugar until you have a marshmallow kind of consistency, then add the zest and extracts. Mix in the ground almonds. Nigella says this will be "quite a hard paste."

Shape into small diamonds (if you can). Lay on parchment-paper-covered baking sheets and leave to dry out at least 15 hours.

Heat the oven to 250 and bake about 30 minutes, until pale and slightly cracked. Cool completely. Dust with powdered sugar if you like.

Freezes well.

Notes:
* To get anywhere near a "hard paste," I had to add an extra cup of almond flour. They still tasted awesome, though.
* I skipped the powdered sugar because I forgot. Oh well.
* I found it extremely difficult to shape the dough into diamond or lozenge shapes. The dough just would not hold a form (see below). Eventually I gave up and, again, they tasted awesome.

WCB #58 -- Well, He Does Have a Fur Coat

2006-07-23T08:39:00.000-04:00

One move toward the air conditioning controls and I will KEEL YOU!

Clare's back! Visit her and Kiri and the other furballs for the WCB roundup.

The Savory Side of Blueberries

2006-07-20T20:49:00.000-04:00

So you've got a glut of blueberries -- lucky you! You could make a pie, or a buckle, or muffins. You could make Kitchenmage's blueberry habanero chutney (indeed, you should). Or, you can make this:

I may never go back to regular barbeque sauce again. This stuff is awesome on sandwiches, grilled veggies, bruschetta...would you look askance if I admitted I was thinking about how it would be on vanilla ice cream?

Blueberry Chipotle Barbeque Sauce
Adapted from Cooking Light: Fresh and Easy

Makes about 1 1/2 cups.

2 c. fresh blueberries
1/4 c. balsamic vinegar
3 T. sugar
3 T. ketchup or adobo sauce from chipotle chiles
1-2 chipotle chiles
1/2 tsp. garlic powder
1/4 tsp. salt

Put everything into a saucepan and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer for about fifteen minutes, until it's slightly thick. Remove from heat and cool.

Puree the mixture in a blender until smooth. Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator.

Notes:
* I haven't tried it with both the chiles and the adobo sauce instead of the ketchup -- I imagine it would be quite spicy.
* I'm wondering how this would work with other berries...raspberries? Cherries?

WCB #58 - This Is Why I Keep a Lint Roller in My Purses

2006-07-16T09:25:00.000-04:00

Widget is a big fan of leather, I guess.

We're all hoping Clare and Kiri are doing okay...

There's Always Room for Jello

2006-07-13T19:55:00.000-04:00

...points for the relatively obscure Bill Murray reference. (Devorit -- you can't play.)

Of course this isn't actually Jello. I came home from the Greenmarket last weekend with a fistful of lemon verbena, which I had read about but never seen. The leaves are actually more leathery and tough than I had imagined -- don't you think "verbena" conjures up a rather more ethereal herb? But the scent is everything the leaves are not -- delicate, firmly lemony without being astringent, green underneath the edges.

My source for herbs I don't know anything about is always Jerry Traunfeld. As it happened that I'd also grabbed several pints of fresh raspberries, this recipe was an obvious choice. It's really a lovely summery dessert -- light without being over too quickly, refreshing and a little exotic.

Raspberries in Lemon Verbena Gel
Adapted from Jerry Traunfeld's The Herbal Kitchen

Serves 4-6.

2 1/2 c. water, divided
1/2 c. sugar
1 c. lightly packed lemon verbna leaves
2 tsp. unflavored gelatin
1/3 c. fresh lemon juice
1 pint fresh raspberries

Heat 2 1/4 c. water with the sugar in a small saucepan. As soon as it boils, stir in the lemon verbena, cover the pan, and remove from heat. Steep at least ten minutes; I let mine go for thirty because, honestly, I forgot about it.

Sprinkle the gelatin over the remaining 1/4 c. water. Give it a few minutes to develop. Strain the verbena syrup and stir the gelatin into the still-warm syrup to dissolve. Cool to room temperature.

Stir in the lemon juice. Arrange the berries in 4-6 dessert gasses, then pour the gelatin over the berries and chil for several hours until set.

Notes:
* Mine took 10 hours to set fully -- maybe I skimped on the gelatin without realizing it.
* The gel is soft and scoopable, not firm.
* The raspberries will color the gel as it sets.

Summertime . . . and the Jamming's Easy

2006-07-09T17:35:00.000-04:00

How do you know summer’s finally, viscerally here? Well, in our house growing up, summer always announced its arrival with a signature scent -- a blend of suntan lotion and chlorine, barbequed pork chops and melting Big Stick popsicles, but most of all the smell of melting wax.

Summer also had a distinctive sound. We didn’t call good night to one another -- we would listen of the metallic *thunks* of plums hitting the roof of our old metal shed and holler, “Plum!” down the hall.

I have a feeling that in other parts of the country, the sights and smells of jam/jelly making and preserving aren’t so terribly rare . . . in Southern California in the 80s, though, we were the only kids we knew whose mother made jam. We pretty much still are, actually.

The apricot and plum trees dominated their end of the yard, which was a good thing most of the time. Except when they’d start giving off fruit too rapidly for us to keep up and we’d have to scrape up smooshed fruit guts to try to keep the flies, and the more distant, but also more scary, threat of rats, away. For a couple of years after we moved in, the trees responded so wildly (we think to actually being watered) that they exploded with fruit. I’m not kidding. Ex-plod-ed. You could hardly see that the tree had leaves for the dark purple and sunny orange fruit. Mom made batches and batches of jam, we ate bowlsful of fruit, and gave it away hand-over-fist, but we were still filling trash bag after trash bag of decaying, smooshed, and not-so-vaguely alcohol-scented rejects. Those were the summers of The Great Plum Capers -- we’d sling full bags of dead and dying fruit in the back of the van, and on our way to a movie or errands, zig clandestinely down back alleys in shopping centers, hurl the bags into their Dumpsters, and zoom away cackling at the illicit thrill.

Yeah, well, I was eight, BNA four; it seemed pretty darned exciting.

We still make jam, though just apricot now, since the plum tree died a tragic death a few years ago. (BNA is still in mourning.) Happily this year’s crop is making up for almost no fruit last year . . .

After sterilizing the jars and rings (dishwasher) and the flat lids, ladle, skimming spoon, and funnel (pot o’ boiling water), we follow the basic recipe found on the inserts in the pectin packages:

5 cups, trimmed, cut, and smooshed apricot pulp (a combo of nectar-like consistency and some larger chunks)
7 cups sugar
1 pkg pectin
¼ cup lemon juice
a dollop of butter/margarine to keep the foam down

Bring the pulp, pectin, lemon juice, and butter to a boil, stirring constantly. Pour in the sugar, bring back to a full boil, then stir for one minute longer at a full, rolling boil. Remove from heat.

Skim most of the foam (if any) off (we don’t make a project out of it), and then ladle the jam as quickly as possible into the clean jars.

Then it’s just a matter of wiping off any spills from the tops of the jars, pushing the lids on, and securing the rings, being careful, of course, to observe all proper care to keep things clean and sterile. The wax I mentioned earlier, is, of course, for sealing the jam safely into any non-canning jars we’ve culled over the previous year -- chutney sized jars are a great size.

Perhaps my favorite step is the last one: listening for the lids to ping sealed with a friendly little pop that is a cousin to the Snapple lid noise. A lovely, happy little sound.

As much fun as making it is, though, it’s even better when we get to pop the top off of a jar and spread it on toast. Bliss.

So is slathering it on boneless, skinless chicken breasts and baking them, covered, in a 325 degree oven for 30-35 minutes. Of late, I have been mixing the jam with about equal parts with bottled Filipino chili sauce, adjusting for taste depending on how spicy I’m feeling, and tossing that on top the chicken. Tasty. You can also spread the jam between butter cookies, thin it into a glaze for pork chops, or dollop it over ice cream and waffles.

WCB #57

2006-07-09T11:32:00.000-04:00

In the spirit of the World Cup finals, Max has given up possession of my yoga bag and instead has moved into Dimples's soccer bag.

Game time! Over to the couch!

Clare and Kiri host weekend cat blogging -- be sure to stop by.

A Sticky Afternoon

2006-07-05T20:07:00.000-04:00

BNA: Hey-lo.
Devorit: Hi there.
B: So.
D: You sound...miffed.
B: A bit, verily.
D: At whom? Did Widget pull down another shelf?
B: No, we're fresh out of shelves.
D: So, what?
B: I made pastry dough.
D: You...know you're not supposed to do that.
B: I know.
D: You don't like working wtih pastry dough.
B: I know.
D: It makes you grumpy.
B: So it's been said.
D: And -- didn't you say it's raining in New York?
B: Yep.
D: So it was extra sticky.
B: Like paste. If paste were butter-scented.
D: You're so weird.
B: Tastes good, though.
D: Well thank goodness for that.

Raspberry Turnovers
adapted from an unknown cooking magazine

Makes 12 turnovers.

1 recipe buttery shortbread pastry (recipe follows)
4 tsp. sugar, plus more as needed
1 T. flour
1/2 tsp. cinnamon, preferably Ceylon
1/4 tsp. Penzeys Baking Spice or nutmeg
2 c. fresh red raspberries
1-2 T. skim milk

Buttery Shortbread Pastry

9 oz. (2 cups) all-purpose flour, preferably King Arthur
7 oz. cold unsalted butter, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 large egg, beaten
2 T. sugar
1 T. heavy cream, chilled
2 tsp. fresh lemon juice
1 tsp. table salt

Combine everything in a food processor and pulse until the dough clumps together in large pieces. Turn it out onto the counter, gather together, and divide in half. Pat each half into a rough square, about an inch thick. Wrap the squares separately in plastic wrap and chill for 20 minutes.

Line two baking sheets with parchment. On a lightly floured surface, using a floured rolling pin, roll out one square of dough into a 9x14 rectangle, or as close as you can get. Cut the dough into six four-inch-diameter rounds, re-rolling the dough if necessary for more surface area. Run a spatula under each circle to separate it from the counter.

In a large bowl, mix the sugar, flour, cinnamon, and Baking Spice or nutmeg together. Add the raspberries and toss to coat, very gently.

Put a heaping T. of berries (about three large berries) on one half of each dough circle. Squish them a bit, gently so you don't tear the dough. Dampen the edges with a little ater and then carefully fold the other side of the circle over the berries to form a half moon. Press the edges together with a fork. Transfer to baking sheet.

Repeat with the other half of the dough. When all the turnovers are made, chill them for at least 15 minutes while you hear the oven to 400.

Brush the turnovers with the milk and sprinkle with sugar. Bake until golden brown, 20-25 minutes. Cool completely on a wire rack.

Not Nice to Fool Mother Nature

2006-06-23T08:35:00.000-04:00

...anyone remember that old Dr. Demento song? I only remember bits and pieces, although I will say that it makes far more sense now than it did when I was seven.

Anyway. I'm not normally a big fan of meat substitutes. Oh, I make exceptions -- I think there are several excellent bulk veggie sausages, for example -- that's a texture that lends itself well to meatless imitation. And I love the original Gardenburgers. But fake bacon, tofu turkey, chi'ken cutlets...I can take or leave 'em.

However, I have found a great and glorious thing, and it is Morningstar Farm's Meal Starters. In particular, the steak ones are rocking my world. What's amusing about this, at least to me, is that even when I'm off the vegetarian track, I never cook beef. I've probably bought beef fewer than ten times in my adult life, actually, and I almost never order it out. And steak? Not so much.

But these fake steak strips are awesome. Juicy, intensely flavorful, with a great chewy meaty texture. I can't stop using them.

Here I added them to Rick Bayless's excellent enchildada recipe. Half the batch with fake steak, and half with shredded chicken for Dimples. Enchiladas, for me, are all about having a good sauce, and Bayless delivers without even much elbow grease.

Red Chile Enchiladas
Adapted from Rick Bayless's Mexican Everyday

Serves 4ish.

2-3 canned chipotle chiles in adobo sauce, plus 1 T. of the sauce
2 garlic cloves, peeled and quartered
1 28-oz can Muir Glen fire-roasted whole tomatoes, undrained
1/4 tsp. ground cumin
1/4 tsp. black pepper
1 T. olive oil, plus a little extra for the tortillas
2 c. veggie broth
12 corn tortillas
salt
1/2 tsp. sugar
2 generous cups Morningstar Farms steak strips
1 c. shredded cheese -- Chihuahua if you can find it, Monterey Jack if you can't

Heat the oven to 350.

In a blender, puree the chiles, adobo, garlic, tomatoes and their juice, cumin, and pepper until it's as fine as you can get it.

Heat the oil in a large saucepan over medium-high heat, then add the sauce (strain it first if the consistency is not smooth). Cook, stirring frequently, until the sauce cooks down to a tomato-pasteish consistency, about ten minutes. Pour in the broth, reduce the heat to medium-low, and simmer for ten minutes.

Meanwhile, prepare the fake steak strips. I do this by heating about a tsp. of olive oil in a small frying pan, then adding the strips and stirring them around for a few minutes. Then I shake over some spices -- oregano, cumin, ground ancho chile. Not too much.

Also meanwhile, prepare the tortillas by brushing them with a tiny bit of olive oil (a mister works perfectly), then stacking them two deep on a baking sheet. Heat them in the oven for 2-3 minutes until they're pliable. Stack them together on a plate and cover to keep warm.

Take the sauce off the heat and taste it -- Bayless says it usually needs 1 1/2 tsp. salt, and he's right. The consistency should be that of a light cream soup; if it's a little thick, stir in some extra broth.

Begin the enchilada assembly line by spreading 1/2 c. sauce on the bottom of a baking dish (13x9 if you've got it; I don't, so I use two 9x9 pans and divide the recipe accordingly). Stir 1/2 c. sauce into the steak strips. Spread a warm tortilla out in your hand, then spoon a portion of the steak strips down the center. Roll the tortilla up, the place it seam-side down in the dish. Continue until all the tortillas are filled. If you run out of filling, which always happens to me, you can use cheese.

Ladle the remaining sauce over the tortillas and sprinkle with the shredded cheese. Bake 10-12 minutes, until the cheese is melted and the enchilads are heated through.

And don't worry if they fall apart when you take them out of the dish -- it's practically inevitable.

Notes:
* Chicken can be substituted (indeed, that is what's in Bayless's recipe, so I guess it's not a substitution, is it) -- I used shredded rotisserie chicken for Dimples.
* Chipotle chiles are fairly hot, so start with two if you don't have an asbestos tongue.
* I like to use pepper jack if I can't find Chihuahua.

Greens and Beans

2006-06-21T08:59:00.000-04:00

Once again I come to you with a dish that you probably already have in your bag of tricks. But this is such a quick, virtuous sort of recipe that it bears repeating.

Soups that combine greens and beans are common in Italy, I'm told. Maybe I'll find out firsthand this summer.

Have I mentioned that here? We're going to Italy this summer! Two weeks! Milan! Rome! Pisa! Cinque Terre! I'm reduced to shouting the names of the cities, because I honestly am far too excited to get past that stage.

Anyway. More on that later.

For now: soup. This is healthful and soothing even in summer, when hot soup is perhaps not the first thing on your mind. It also can be on the table in no more than twenty minutes from the minute you open the refrigerator, which is pleasing.

Escarole and Bean Soup
Adapted from Giada de Laurentiis

Serves 4ish.

2 T. olive oil
2 garlic cloves, chopped
2 pinches red pepper flakes, optional
1 large head escarole, chopped
4 c. vegetable broth
1 15-oz. can cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
1 2-inch piece of Parmesan rind
2 Italian-style veggie sausage, sliced, optional

Heat the olive oil in a large pot over medium heat, then add the garlic and saute about half a minute. Sometimes I let it get a little more color, but don't let it burn.

Add the escarole and cook until wilted, 3-5 minutes. Halfway through the wilting, add the red pepper flakes, if you're using them. Now is also the time to add the veggie sausage, if you're going that route.

Add the broth, beans, and Parmesan rind. Simmer 5-7 minutes, until everything's heated through. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Notes:
* You can, of course, use chicken broth and chicken or pork sausage.
* You can also drizzle a little extra-virgin olive oil over each bowl, if you like. To be honest, I usually forget, and I never miss it.
* I keep a Ziploc full of Parmesan rinds in the freezer -- they add wonderful body and savoriness to soups like these.

Oops, I Grilled It Again

2006-06-19T16:48:00.000-04:00

...of course I'm not above a bad Britney Spears reference.

Also of course, I don't claim that this is remotely an original idea. In fact you've probably done this sandwich this summer already. Maybe even this weekend. But on the off chance that you need persuading -- observe the grilled portobello mushroom sandwich.

This could not be easier to make. To begin, take a pinch or two of your favorite dried herbs and pour over a tablespoon or so of extra virgin olive oil. I used Penzeys Italian Blend, but oregano, marjoram, tarragon, or basil would work nicely too.

Next, heat your grill pan over medium-high heat (or do whatever magical thing gets a real grill into the same state). Brush a mushroom cap with the herb oil. Grill, topside down, for 4-5 minutes, then flip and repeat. Brush with more oil if it seems to be getting dry on the outside.

Remove the cap to a plate and prepare your bun. I used a smear of fierce and searing mustard, a pile of salad greens, and that's it. But don't be ruled by me -- check out your crisper drawer for likely partners.

Place the cap on the bottem bum, then drizzle with good-quality balsamic vinegar. Grate over some fresh pepper. Adorn with top bun.

Be sure to eat this over a plate, as it will be one juicy sucker. Warning: after trying these out, you too will find yourself humming pop music when it's time for dinner.

WCB #54

2006-06-18T07:47:00.000-04:00

What's a weekend without a good stretch?

Max takes a full-body approach.

Head over to Clare's to visit poor Kiri, who had to endure canine intrusions last weekend! And all his friends, too, of course.

Using My Noodle

2006-06-14T21:31:00.000-04:00

Work's been entirely too busy lately. Hasn't been much time for other pursuits -- certainly not a lot of time to spend in the kitchen. I especially haven't wanted to buy too many fresh groceries when I can never be sure when I'll have time to open the crisper drawer.

So, here's a quick recipe that doesn't need a lot of fresh ingredients, hits a good handful of major BNA tastiness requirements (salty, spicy, chewy), and is vegan to boot. Better yet, it's equally slurpable hot or cold.

Spicy Peanut Noodles
Adapted from Vegetarian Times

Serves 4ish.

8 oz. linguine or other long, thin pasta
1/2 c. reduced-fat smooth peanut butter
1/4 c. water
2 T. low-sodium soy sauce
1 1/2 T rice wine vinegar
2 tsp. chile paste with garlic or roasted chile paste or red curry paste
1/2 tsp. sugar
1/2 red bell pepper, cut into thin strips
half a cucumber, peeled, seeded and diced
2 T. coarsely chopped cilantro

Cook the linguine.

While it's cooking, whisk together the peanut butter, water, soy sauce, vinegar, paste, and sugar. Add a little more water if it seems too thick -- you're looking for a consistency like half and half.

Toss together pasta, sauce, and vegetables. Sprinkle with cilantro.

WCB #53 -- Terror of the Apartment Complex

2006-06-11T09:25:00.000-04:00

Did you hear about that tabby cat in New Jersey that treed a bear?

When Dimples told me that story, I knew that cat had to be an orange tabby. (It was.) In my experience, there's just something about orange tabbies -- not evil cats, necessarily, but fierce. Feisty. A little demonic at times.

And, in our household, prone to attack the TV screen.

Now you can understand why I am loathe to introduce Widget to a backyard anytime soon. Pity the wildlife.

Visit Kiri and his friends at Clare's!

Blueberry Buckle

2006-06-06T18:15:00.000-04:00

...sounds like Strawberry Shortcake's cousin from Maine, doesn't it? As I recall, Strawberry's friend was actually called Blueberry Muffin -- and she had a blue rubber hat with a scalloped edge secured to her head with those little plastic ties, which Devorit refused to allow to be snipped off lest we (I) lose the hat -- but I prefer to think that Blueberry Buckle would have been a friendlier kind of person.

A buckle is sort of like a pan-sized muffin -- a layer of cake, a layer of fruit, and a struesel topping. Blueberries work best, in my opinion, since they keep their shape atop the cake.

This is a forgiving recipe, easy to mix together on a Sunday morning and nibble on all day long.

Blueberry Buckle
Adapted from Better Homese & Gardens New Baking Book

2 c. all-purpose flour, preferably King Arthur
2.5 tsp. baking powder
0.25 tsp. salt
0.5 c. shortening, preferably a non-trans fat brand
0.75 c. sugar
1 egg
0.5 c. milk (I use skim)
2 c. frozen blueberries, preferably Wyman's or other wild blueberries

Streusel:
0.5 c. all-purpose flour, preferably King Arthur
0.5 c. sugar
0.75 tsp. cinnamon
0.25 butter, softened

Heat oven to 350.

Grease an 8x8 pan. Take 2 c. of the flour and combine it with the baking powder and the salt. Mix with a whisk, for fun and lightness.

Using an electric mixer, beat the shortening for thirty seconds on medium speed to loosen it up and aerate it a little. Add 0.75 c. sugar and beat on medium-high spead until fluffy. Add the egg and beat well. Add the flour mixture and the milk in alternating portions, incorporating well. Spoon the batter into the pan; it will be a fairly stiff batter.

Cover the batter with a blanket of berries. Combine the streusel flour, sugar, and cinnamon, then rub in the butter until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Sprinkle evenly over the berries.

Bake 50-60 minutes or until golden and gorgeous. Best warm.

Notes:
* This is a forgiving recipe. I accidentally added a half-cup too much flour and it worked fine. I also substituted butter for half the shortening and, again, just fine.
* I like to add 0.25 tsp. of Penzeys baking spice to the dry flour mixture to bring a little more spice into the cake itself.

WCB # 52 -- Return of Yoga Cat

2006-06-04T07:52:00.000-04:00

Because the prices for local yoga classes are definitely not conducive to inner calm, I've been practicing at home (thank you, Netflix). As I've mentioned here before, our cat Max enjoys "helping" me with poses.

But now that my gym finally has started holding yoga classes, I've been heading over there -- and Max does not approve.

If Max doesn't get do to yoga, nobody gets to do yoga.

Head over to Clare's to check out Kiri and his pals at WCB's first anniversary!

Portobello Panache

2006-05-23T21:45:00.000-04:00

It's vegetarian time here at PBPO. Three-quarters of my meals are vegetarian anyway, but every couple of months I like to take a total break from meat. Since this last weekend I encountered a genuine Philly cheesesteak, I felt more than ready to embrace the vegetables going forward.

Here's a great recipe to serve to vegetarians and carnivores alike -- the rich, hearty mushrooms more than make up for the usual chicken. If you keep marinara sauce and cheese on hand -- and I think it's pretty obvious that I'm never without either -- you can pick up the mushrooms on your way home from work and be ready to go.

Dimples doesn't care for mushrooms -- alas -- so I normally make this recipe one portobello cap at a time. Just multiply by the number of servings you want.

Mushroom Parmesan
Adapted from Giada de Laurentiis

a portobello mushroom cap (cut off any chunk of stem)
olive oil
salt and pepper
1/2-1/3 c. marinara sauce
1/4-1/2 c. shredded mozzarella
2 T. shredded Parmesan
oregano

Heat the oven to 450 and put your grill pan over medium-high heat. Look at all the use that pan's getting lately!

Brush the cap with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Grill topside down about five minutes, then turn and grill another 4-5 minutes. Remove from the grill.

Spread a little sauce onto the bottom of a small baking dish. Place the mushroom topside down onto the sauce, then cover with remaining sauce. Shake on a little oregano, then sprinkle with the cheeses.

Bake 10 minutes or so or until the cheese is melted and the mushroom is heated through.

One Potato, Two Potato

2006-05-18T22:13:00.000-04:00

It is a peculiar quirk of mine that, as much as I abhor raw tomatoes, I absolutely cannot live without cooked ones. Marinara sauce and salsa are absolute necessities in life (and yes, I know salsa is most often not cooked -- do not quibble with the neurosis).

And so is ketchup. I have always been addicted to ketchup. I will even go so far as to admit that in elementary school, a friend and I created a club we called the Ketchup Lovers of America. (Not really sure where the surge of patriotism came from.) We gave each other bottles of Heinz on birthdays.

Yep. I'm admitting to that right here on the internet.

The perfect foil for ketchup is, of course, the french fry. The crisp exterior contrasts with the smooth condiment; the mild starch sets off the sweet vinegary goodness of the red stuff. But although McDonald's does deliver -- all night -- in Manhattan, why order when baking is so much more fun?

You could have a batch of these ready for ketchup action in 45 minutes from right now. Go!

Oven-Baked Fries

Serves one greedy Heinz fanatic.

2 medium russet potatoes, scrubbed
olive oil
kosher salt
coarsely-ground black pepper
other spices of choice -- I tend to use some combination of Penzeys Toasted Onion powder, cayenne, chipotle, and/or oregano

Heat the oven to 450.

Slice your potatoes into wedges, batons, or a mixture. I'm not particularly good at making them come out consistent. Dribble about 1 tsp. olive oil over the wedges and toss to coat. Add about 1/2 tsp. salt and as much pepper and other spices as you like -- I tend to use 1/4 tsp. black pepper, 1/4 tsp. cayenne or chipotle, and 1/2 tsp. of something else. Toss to coat evenly.

Arrange the slices on a greased baking sheet, like this.

Bake 15 minutes, then flip the wedges over and bake 10-15 minutes more, to the degree of crispness that you prefer. They will hiss and pop in the oven, which is sort of fun.

You know what to serve them with.

Notes:
* These are also good with sweet potatoes.

Fear of Frying

2006-05-16T20:09:00.000-04:00

I'm a clumsy person. Oh, not spectacularly, but there's a reason that Dimples refers to our bathroom cabinet as the Bermuda Triangle of the apartment -- I can't get through an evening's ablutions without dropping at least one bottle of this or jar of that. I'm just not particularly well-coordinated. (And luckily I can buy most of my beauty regimen in plastic containers.)

Which means that dropping bits of food into inches of hot oil is really not a good idea. I don't even like to fry bacon -- too much opportunity for grease mischief. And for a long time, I was also frightened of my grill pan. Even though the bubblebubbletoilandtrouble thing wasn't an issue, something about all that heat and heavy cast iron seemed ominous.

But it's spring, and asparagus is everywhere -- and my absolute favorite way to prepare asparagus is on the grill. So last night, after some deep breaths, I reached for the grill pan.

I'm pleased to report total success! The asparagus, zucchini, and mushrooms soaked up tons of flavor from my on-the-fly marinade, which gets an extra savory-sweet kick from Chinese five-spice powder. And the tofu, which I marinated in a dark sesame marinade, grilled gorgeously.

And yeah, well, I did burn my wrist a little. On each side. But hey, what did I expect.

Spicy Grilled Vegetables

one medium bunch asparagus (thicker spears will be easier to manipulate)
two small zucchini
a handful of crimini mushrooms
soy sauce, preferably low-sodium
extra-virgin olive oil
white pepper
Chinese five-spice powder
honey, if you like

Clean and trim your vegetables. Slice the mushrooms in half and the zucchini in to 1/3" planks. Add all the veggies to a large Ziploc bag.

Shake in about a tsp. white pepper, half a tsp. five-spice powder, and more or less a T. of honey if you're using it. Add anywhere from half a cup to three-quarters of a cup of soy sauce, then shake in a quarter cup of olive oil. Seal the bag, squishing out the air, and wiggle everything around. Toss the bag into the refrigerator for at least two hours and preferably overnight, turning it periodically.

To grill, heat your pan (or your actual grill) to medium-high heat. Make sure the grill is hot before adding the vegetables. Add the asparagus first; they will take longest to cook, about 3 minutes per side. Add the mushrooms and zucchini after you turn the asparagus for the first time. Everything should finish more or less at the same time.

Eat hot off the grill, or, if you must be more civilized, serve on toasted buns, with or without cheese. They're also excellent alongside grilled chicken.

Notes:
* This is an intense marinade, and it's only fair to point out that I have a salty tooth. You may want to marinate the vegetables for a shorter time to see if you agree with me.
* Other veggies to try -- eggplant, sweet onions, red peppers, baby bok choy...

I Know They Look Charred...

2006-05-10T22:02:00.000-04:00

...but those little black bits are actually minced shallots from the marinade. Honest!

Now, if I were fortunate enough to be a magazine editor, and it was my task to name this recipe, I'd have called it Orange Balsamic Chicken, because the citrus flavor is much more prominent than the vanilla. (Maybe I'd have tried for a more interesting name, come to think of it.) The vanilla comes in as an afternote with each bite, present but in no way dominant. I was a little worried that the marinade would turn out too syrupy, with so many sweet ingredients, but the volume of vinegar helped with that, I think.

I made this recipe with eight chicken pieces, not sixteen, and Dimples ate six of them without batting an eye. I think that means this counts as a winner.

Vanilla Balsamic Chicken
Adapted from Cooking Light

Serves 8.

0.5 c. chicken broth
0.5 c. balsamic vinegar (I used my bottle from the Ferry Building)
0.25 c. finely chopped shalllots
0.25 c. packed brown sugar
0.25 tsp. grated orange rind
0.25 c. fresh orange juice (from about half an orange)
1 2-inch piece vanilla bean, split lengthwise
0.5 tsp. salt, divided
16 skinless, boneless chicken thighs (preferably natural or organic)
pepper

Heat the oven to 450.

Combine broth, vinegar, shallots, sugar, rind, and juice in a small saucepan. (Go for shallow over deep, as you will be reducing.) Using the tip of a knife, scrap the tiny black seeds from the vanilla vean into the broth mixture. Save the bean.

Bring the mixture to a boil, then reduce to a simmer and reduce to 0.5 c. Stir in 0.25 tsp. salt.

Arrange the chicken in a single layer in a baking dish. Sprinkle with the rest of the salt and freshly ground pepper.

Bake for ten minutes. Then brush half the broth mixture over the chicken and bake five minutes. Add the remaining mixture and bake for another 15 minutes.

Notes:
* I forgot to add the salt to the marinade and didn't notice a difference at all.
* Next time I will use my white balsamic vinegar -- I bet it will bring an interesting, lighter flavor.
* And of course you should take the vanilla bean and toss it into a jar with some plain white sugar. Instant vanilla sugar!

Citrus Ceviche

2006-05-07T13:03:00.000-04:00

I'm not sure whether my memory is failing or my camera is feeling recalcitrant, but when I hooked the device up to my computer to download pictures from my wine party two weekends ago, it seemed that certain shots were missing. In particular, I pretty clearly remember snapping a picture of my citrus ceviche in its cheerful yellow tomato dish. (I don't like to eat tomatoes, but I am quite fond of my yellow tomato dish. I try not to not think about this too much.)

Maybe my camera is punishing me for my carelessness in misplacing it; maybe I deleted the pictures later. Sadly, this is all I have for you:

Despite my lack of visual aids to tempt you, please do give this ceviche a try. If you're not familiar with the dish, the acidic citrus juices "cook" the fish over a couple of hours, so the end result is not raw, but sort of a fish salsa, if you will. I usually serve it with tortilla chips as an appetizer, but it also makes a great light meal for one or two, served over mixed greens.

Citrus Ceviche
Serves 6 as an appetizer, 1-2 as a meal.

0.5 lb fresh halibut filet (do not use frozen)
juice of two limes
juice of one lemon
4 T. fresh orange juice
2 red chiles, seeded and finely diced
2 scallions, white part only, finely chopped
1 Roma tomato, seeded and finely diced
1-2 small Haas avocados, diced
4 T. fresh cilantro, minced
0.5-0.75 tsp. kosher salt

Cut the fish into a fine dice, then mix with the citrus juices in a non-reactive (ceramic or glass) dish. Cover tightly and refrigerate for three hours, giving it a good stir every half hour or so.

Drain the fish, reserving 1-2 T. marinade. Toss the fish with the remaining ingredients except for the salt. Taste and add the salt gradually until you like the mixture. If it seems dry, add the reserved marinade.

Notes:
* I like this ceviche with any firm white fish. It's pretty good with salmon, too, but sometimes that has turned out too strong for me.
* I usually use red jalapenos, but I have substituted a green serrano for more heat.

WCB #47: Cats Don't Share

2006-04-30T09:00:00.000-04:00

You know how little kids often like the box that a toy comes in better than the box itself? (Dad once built a giant box fortress for Devorit and me when they bought a gadzillion large appliances all at once -- in my mind's eye, it stretched across the living room and was the Best Fortress Ever.) My cats -- and, I suspect, yours too -- are the same way.

Especially Max. Max fell in love with a Poland Springs box:

And much joy was had as he squirmed about. But trouble lay ahead, for Max is not the dominant cat in our household. Widget, the demon cat, is. And while he had no interest in the box before Max found it, it was only a matter of time before he realized that he could torment his brother by making him give it up.

Widget: Ho ho ho! What do we have here?

Max: Noooooooooo!

Mom, don't let him take away my box! I've got my mousie right where I want him and he'll ruin EVERYTHNG!

Luckily for Max, we drink a lot of bottled water. Solution:

And peace reigned supreme...until Widget decided he wanted Max's box, frantic wrestling ensued, and both boxes were trampled in the melee. Oh well.

Take a minute to visit the elegant Kiri and his friends over at Clare's!

Lemon and Spice and Everything Nice

2006-04-26T10:51:00.000-04:00

I never realized how often lemons appear in my kitchen until I found myself constantly typing "lemon" into Blogger posts. In fact, if you'd asked me pre-PBPO to rank lemons on my personal citrus hierarchy, they would have come in relatively low, probably behind oranges, tangerines, and limes.

Ahead of grapefruit, though. For sure. I've held a grudge against those ever since I learned -- painfully -- that they taste nothing like grapes. (Yes, I was a literal-minded child.)

Like many of you, though, I use lemons all the time in cooking, especially in savory dishes. (Check out Cream Puffs in Venice, where April is lemon month.) Here's a quick way to use their cheerful zing to dress up olives, which are already pretty darn good. People will never believe that you made these yourself.

Marinated Olives
Adapted from Giada de Laurentiis's Everyday Italian

3 T. olive oil
2 lemons' worth of zest
.75 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes
1.5 c. Sicilian cracked green olives
1.5 c. kalamata olives
juice of half a lemon
2 T. chopped fresh basil

In a skillet large enough to hold all the olives, stir the oil, lemon zest, and pepper flakes over medium heat for about a minute, being careful not to let anything burn.

Turn off the heat and add the olives, mixing to coat. Add the lemon juice and basil.

Transfer everything to a container with a lid -- I use a Mason jar -- and refrigerate, shaking occasionally to mix things up, for at least twelve hours. Bring them to room temperature before serving, to great acclaim.

It's So Easy Being Green

2006-04-25T18:40:00.000-04:00

Especially once I found my camera! Thanks to the Patient Co-Worker, naturally.

Ok, I'm starting to give up on my indifference to spring. I've had asparagus every day for the past week, so it's becoming pretty ridiculous trying to pretend that I'm ambivalent about the season and its offerings. Check around the food blog world and you'll find these bright green stalks everywhere, and rightly so.

In my book, asparagus is best on the grill, preferably with some kind of soy-ginger marinade. Since I'm am grill-less in the city, I resort to roasting. Scatter a handful of spears on a baking sheet, drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle with kosher salt and coarse black pepper, then roast in a 425 degree oven for fifteen minutes or so -- perfection.

I like them plain or chopped into pasta with pecorino and olive oil. Last Saturday, I stepped things up a notch and wrapped each spear in a prosciutto pashmina. Instant classy finger food!

I'm not ready to embrace fava beans yet, but I'm getting there.

Blogging Blind

2006-04-24T08:52:00.000-04:00

So I've misplaced my camera. My best guess had been that I left it at the Patient Co-Worker's house this weekend -- I borrowed her apartment for a party I was throwing, as two of my guests are violently allergic to cats, and mine in particular are having a grand old time with springtime shedding -- but it sounds like that's not the case. Which is most vexing, as I had pictures of all the party food in various stages of prep, not to mention several shots of the cats being adorable (while shedding).

In fact I spent a large part of yesterday admonishing the felines. "Save the cuteness! I don't have my camera -- you're wasting it, my little allergen fuzzballs." You will not be surprised to learn that my instructions had little effect.

So no pictures until the camera turns up (I hope) or I buy a new one (I fear). Sigh. But I will tell you about a dip that I served at Saturday's party. It wouldn't be particularly photogenic, I suspect, and it's also so ridiculously easy as to be a little embarrassing. But it's always devoured and Saturday was no exception.

Jalapeno Artichoke Dip

1 package reduced-fat cream cheese
1 c. grated Parmesan
1 6-oz. jar marinated artichoke hearts
3-5 pickled jalapenos

Bring the cream cheese to room temperature. Reserve a couple of tablespoons of the artichoke marinade, then mince the hearts and the jalapenos. Add them to a mixing bowl with the cream cheese and stir everything together. Add the grated Parmesan gradually until everything's combined. If it seems too dry, dribble the reserved artichoke marinade into the mixture until you like the consistency better. Taste, and consider whether you want to add more jalapenos or more cheese. Or more artichokes, for that matter. I certainly won't stop you.

I prefer this dip at room temperature, but many people like it heated. Easy to do -- pop it into a shallow baking dish, sprinkle more Parmesan on top, and bake at 300 for ten minutes or so until warm and gooey.

Notes:
* Regular cream cheese is fine, but nonfat will throw off the consistency.
* The dip is great with chunks of bread, tortilla chips, or celery sticks. I may have made a sandwich out of it on occasion. Maybe.
* I always use five jalapenos, but of course adjust that to suit your taste. You may need to compensate with extra artichoke hearts if you use only three chiles. Oh, and don't use fresh chiles in this recipe -- too powerful.
* Save your good Parmigiano-Reggiano for another time. I mean, I'm not saying that I reach for the green can, but a domestic Parmesan -- and yep, I get the pregrated kind -- works very well here.

Quick + Basil + Chiles = Happy BNA

2006-04-19T21:47:00.000-04:00

Most people look forward to spring with fervent anticipation. Me, I have nothing against the season, but since I'm biased against its successor, I tend to not get all that excited.

But I do share the growing impatience with rich hearty dishes, with stews and braises and the like. Time for something bouncier. Zestier. Basil-ier. (Ok, so it's a little early for basil, but still.)

Here's a quick recipe that combines all of those traits into one sprightly springtime dish. The photo's a little insipid, but the chicken is not -- this is powerful stuff. Bring on the warm weather!

Chicken with Fresh Basil
Adapted from Nancie McDermott's Quick & Easy Thai

Serves 3-4.

3 T. vegetable or olive oil
1-2 T. coarsely chopped garlic
0.5 c. finely chopped onion (I used red)
0.75 lb. chicken, cut into small pieces
2 T. fish sauce
1 T. reduced-sodium soy sauce
2 T. water
2 tsp. sugar
2-3 T. coarsely chopped hot green chiles, such as jalapenos, serranos, or Thai chiles
1 c. Thai or Italian basil

Heat the oil in a large, deep skillet over medium-high heat. Add the garlic and onion and cook, stirring frequently, for a few minutes. Add the chicken and stir to coat. Cook until the chicken's browned, being careful not to burn the garlic.

Add the fish sauce, soy sauce, water, and sugar, and cook for about 3 minutes, stirring well, until a thin, smooth sauce forms. Toss in the chiles and basil and stir until the basil wilts. Remove from heat and serve.

Notes:
* I used serrano chiles, and the dish was mighty hot. Careful when you're adding them to the skillet -- don't breathe too deep.
* We served this over white rice, but next time I would make brown rice for more heft and crunch.
* I was able to find Thai basil, which has a fantastic bright flavor, but I'm sure regular Italian basil would work well.

NY Nosh in the Lower East Side

2006-04-17T21:11:00.000-04:00

When she found the walking tour, Devorit was almost beside herself with excitement. “LOOKLOOKLOOK!” she emailed me. “It’s like All of a Kind Family!”

Did you read those books? They’re a series of children’s books about a Jewish family living in New York’s Lower East Side soon after the turn of the century. The family has five “stair-step” girls – Ella (eldest, most responsible, sort of the Elizabeth Wakefield of the group), Henrietta (wild, rambunctious, Jessica to Ella’s Elizabeth), Sarah (grave middle child, with a stubborn streak), Gertie, and Charlotte (indistinguishable adorable rapscallions, as I recall). Each book was made up of many stories, told from different sisters’ points of view and filled with fascinating detail about New York in general and the LES in particular. Devorit and I were mesmerized by these books, and especially by the Jewish holidays and rituals they described. Sure, we knew about Passover and Hannukah, but Purim, Succos, and Yom Kippur were less familiar. And the food! I think my love affair with Jewish food started with the descriptions of the food of the LES – pickles, gefilte fish, chicken soup with rice, candied grapes and oranges, the barrel of broken crackers and sugar babies that Gertie and Charlotte saved their pennies for (although did they ever get in trouble when Mama found the crumbs from their midnight feast in their bed!).

(I won’t speak for Devorit, but when I first learned that we are one-eighth Jewish, one of my first thoughts was of a happy near-kinship with the All of a Kind Family girls.)

So when Devorit found this walking tour, we obviously had to go. And I can’t recommend it highly enough. We were lucky to have Susan, our guide, entirely to ourselves for three sunny hours. She conducts several tours, and we chose the one called NY Nosh – a walking and tasting history of the Jewish community of the LES. She was a treasure trove of detailed information (and didn’t even seem to mind our penchant for snapping pictures).

Some of the afternoon’s tidbits…

A mushroom knish at Yonah Schimmel's knishery, which has been serving up gloriously sticky and dense knishes for a century.

Gorgeous sides of sable at Russ & Daughters, open for just about as long. I thought I liked smoked salmon best until I tasted this.

A savory onion bialy, chewy and mellower than the pile of onions would suggest, almost like pizza crust.

And a quartet of salty offerings from The Pickle Guys -- from left to right, a green tomato pickle (shudder), then a full sour, a half-sour, and a new pickle. The sour was the Platonic ideal of a kosher pickle, in my opinion (and not so much as a sprig of dill ever came near it), but the new pickle had a pleasant, refreshing taste -- a very crunchy, slightly salty cucumber. (Let's not talk about the green tomato pickle.)

Cannot recommend this walking tour highly enough -- and you may even find yourself looking up All of a Kind Family at the library.

WCB # 45: Yoga Cat

2006-04-15T09:28:00.000-04:00

Max loves to "help" me with my yoga practice. I bet I'm not the only one who has trouble balancing when a cat is twining around my ankles or wrists.

Downward-facing WHAT?

Check out the other limber kitties at Clare's!

Thai Love

2006-04-13T17:21:00.000-04:00

Thai is our favorite kind of cuisine to order (assuming you don't count pizza as a kind of cuisine, which, well, I guess I can see arguments on both sides of that one). But I have zero confidence in my ability to make Thai food -- it seems so complex and nuanced, as though the tinest mismeasurement would send the dish galloping into disaster. So when the Angelic Co-Worker (who, by the way, has been known to lead yoga classes for the Patient Co-Worker and me when the boss is out of the office) started talking about a book of Thai recipes that were easy and delicious, my ears perked right up.

As always, the Angelic Co-Worker's advice was well worth following. Nancie McDermott's book Quick & Easy Thai is awesome. Nothing's overly complicated or frightening, the ingredient lists are manifestly manageable, and the recipes we've made turned out marvelously well. I can't speak to its authenticity level, but the food tastes as good as our favorite delivery place -- and that's saying something.

Here's one of the first dishes we tried. I drank every last bit of the spicy coconut sauce. The chicken absorbed the panaeng curry paste very well, although next time I will try tofu for kicks.

Chiang Mai Curry Noodles
Adapted from Nancie McDermott's Quick & Easy Thai

Serves 3-4.

2 T. olive oil (the book says vegetable oil, but I don't keep that on hand)
1.5 T finely chopped garlic
2 T. red curry paste or panaeng curry paste
.75 lb. boneless chicken, cut into bite-sized pieces
2 c. unsweetened coconut milk
1.75 c. chicken broth
2 tsp. curry powder (I used Penzeys Hot Curry Powder)
2 T. soy sauce
1 tsp. sugar
1 tsp. salt
2 T. fresh lime juice
.5 lb. dried egg noodles
.33 c. coarsely chopped shallots
.33 c. coarsely chopped cilantro
.33 c. thinly sliced green onions

Heat the oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat, then add the garlic and toss well. Next mush the curry paste into the oil and garlic, stirring about a minute. Add the chicken and cook 2 minutes, stirring occasionally to brown it evenly and to mix it with the curry paste.

Meanwhile, cook the noodles as you normally would. Drain, rinse well in cold water, and drain again.

While the noodles are cooking, add the coconut milk, broth, curry powder, soy sauce, suar, and salt. Stir well. Bring to a gentle boil and cook at a simmer for about ten minutes, or until the chicken is cooked through. Add the lime juice, which really adds a noticeably tangy dimension.

Divide the noodles among your bowls, and ladle the curry over the top. Sprinkle each serving with shallots, cilantro, and green onions according to your whim.

Notes:
* You could use tumeric instead of curry powder, if you prefer.
* I used a can of panaeng curry paste that Devorit and I purchased at Kalustyans, but next time I think I'd like to try to make my own.
* With the hot curry powder, these noodles were plenty spicy. I wouldn't have wanted it any more fiery (can you believe it?), because I inevitably slurp the noodles and thus expose my lips to the feistiness.
* Next time I would cook the sauce a little longer to reduce it, as it came out quite thin.

Good Passover!

2006-04-12T17:07:00.000-04:00

Have a joyous holiday, friends -- we're off to a seder tonight with the Patient Co-Worker and her husband.

If Only We Had a Paladin on the UWS

2006-04-11T21:33:00.000-04:00

…I mean, why stop my geeky sci-fi/fantasy post titles now? Three points if you get the above reference (but you’ll have to read through to the end for it to make sense! I am evil like that).

So anyway, Devorit visited us last weekend, and a merry time was had by all. She was most pleased to encounter significantly more liveable weather this time around. Her first visit to New York was last July, when it was approximately a gadzillion degrees and two hundred percent humidity. Devorit and I share a genetic horror for temperatures over ninety degrees, so you can imagine her relief when Sunday dawned bright and clear. (Sure, there was some rain on Saturday, but contrary to popular belief, the OC does get substantial rainstorms, so the moderate drizzle here was nothing she couldn’t handle.)

We spent several hours wandering through (read: getting lost in) Central Park, which is exploding with daffodils of all shades of white and yellow. When Devorit casually mentioned, with a devil-may-care kind of saucy sangfroid, that she was contemplating a hot dog from one of the park vendors, I knew I had to take her to Gray’s Papaya instead.

(I know, I know. Many of you are staunch defenders of the Central Park pushcart hot dog vendors, and I respect that, I really do. I am simply incapable of eating a hot dog that I have seen emerging from that grayish water. I’m just not a strong person that way.)

So off to Gray’s Papaya. In case you haven’t had the pleasure, this is a place that sells hot dogs and juice – and that’s it. (Well, some sort of breakfast items in the morning, maybe.) And the employees are known for their surliness. That may be an overstatement; say rather that they are strong proponents of efficient ordering. They know what they’re doing, and they expect the same from you. It can be a little intimidating on your first visit, especially if you’re a person of acknowledged hot dog weakness like myself, so I coached Devorit a bit.

BNA: You have to tell him either plain or with sauerkraut.
Devorit: Um…(looks stricken at prospect of no mustard)
B: (remembering Devorit’s devotion to the yellow side of the condiment aisle) No, no, you put your own ketchup and mustard on afterwards, at the counter there. See?
D: Aha. Very good. So…hmmm. I don’t know if I want sauerkraut or not.
B: (eloquent silence)
D: (raising eyebrow) Yes, I know that you don’t like sauerkraut, but I do.
B: Hey, on your head be it.
D: Fine, fine, get two plain.

Successful ordering ensued. Visual aid:

Then there was the mid-consumption conversation:

B: You like?
D: It’s good. But I wish I had ordered mine with sauerkraut.
B: Whyyyyy?
D: I like it!
B: Dude. You know what sauerkraut is, right?
D: (sighing) What?
B: Zombie cabbage.
D: …you are demented, you know that?
B: And you should not eat the undead. Am I right?
D: Dude. You have ruined sauerkraut for me. You suck.
B: Another mission accomplished!

Stay tuned for more of our weekend adventures.

WCB #44 -- All Your Suitcase Are Belong to Us

2006-04-08T10:02:00.000-04:00

Devorit is in New York. As people do, she brought a suitcase. It was, obviously, ripe for conquest by the resident feline warlords.

Visit Clare's to see Kiri and his friends!

Someone Stop Me!

2006-04-05T18:39:00.000-04:00

Friends, we've known it for some time. Hard to deny, really. But after this weekend in southern California, I have realized that I must take action. Because I, BNA, have a severe spice problem.

Here it is: the spice cabinet.

The middle shelf is for cat food (as you can see, we need to go shopping. The catlings are pointedly refusing to eat the adult wet food, though. Anyone else have this problem transitioning their kittens' food supply? Anyway). The rest...spices. Herbs. Mixtures of both. Four rows' worth on the bottom shelf.

And one to grow on, on top where I can barely reach, for crying out loud. Can I remind the assembly that we live in a tiny NY apartment?

It wasn't always this way. In fact, when I moved out here, I packed up most of my spice collection and sent it downstate with Devorit, along with most of my wine collection. I figured, hey, time to break free. How many spices do you really need, foolish girl? Break free from the guilt emanating from all those tiny jars!

...the road to hell, etc., etc. You can see how long that set of good intentions lasted. About a week, as I recall. Then it was a jar of cinnamon here...a fistful of nutmegs there...all of a sudden, I had to make a trip to the Container Store (ok, I love the Container Store) to get a spice rack to house this monstrous collection.

This weekend, Devorit and I drove an hour to reach an actual Penzeys Spices store -- a glorious place I had never before seen. My favorite part? Alphabetization. Glorious, precise, logical order. My little Virgo soul thrilled to its fingertips. And the spices weren't bad, either.

But now I am under strict self-imposed orders to stoppitalready. Look! There's no more room! End of story! And...scene!

Except I just got this new curry cookbook...and I don't have any curry leaves or various other crucial things...and Devorit's coming to New York this weekend.

Please. Help me.

p.s. I think I mentioned this in a comment once, but not in a full post -- I have two people to thank for my Penzeys addiction -- the fabulous Kalyn of Kalyn's Kitchen, who first piqued my curiosity about the brand, and my cousin-in-law R., who presented me with my first jars, the Some Like It Hot collection. Thanks to both!

Melancholy

2006-03-30T10:08:00.000-05:00

I have sad news, friends. One of the creators of the peanut butter and purple onion sandwich, my grandfather Johnny, passed away yesterday.

He has been increasingly slipping away from us for some time now, and I think we all knew that he wouldn't be with us for much longer. And even though I know that his time had come, and that he has earned peace, it's hard to lose him.

No one is really sure from whence came the fabled peanut butter and purple onion sandwich -- Dad and Johnny never could remember the particulars -- but Johnny's versions were superb: thin slices of rye, toasted crisp; salty, gooey natural peanut butter; translucent rounds of sweet onion. He did occasionally add mayonnaise, which of course is blasphemous, but he was charmingly unrepentant.

Johnny also taught me about the gorgeous combination of strawberries, brown sugar, and sour cream, how to efficiently cube a potato (he liked to apply engineering principles to the kitchen), and how to make szchi, his Russian mother's cabbage soup. That's a holiday recipe, a feasting bowl, and I think Johnny would like it if we stirred up a batch in his honor. I'll undertake that soon. But before that, I'll make a PBPO sandwich in his memory. Peace.

Serendipity

2006-03-29T17:33:00.000-05:00

...anyone else ever read the children's book about the dragon named Serendipity? It was one of a series of very slim paperbacks -- I remember others like Kith and Kin, The Gnome from Nome, and The Wheedle on the Needle. As I think about them now, they were thinly-disgused adaptations of Aesop's Fables and other morality stories, but Devorit and I really just liked the pictures. And the silly names, of course.

Another old favorite has been rattling around in my head for a couple of weeks now. I couldn't remember the title and didn't have a clue as to the author. It was one of those British children's books where the protagonist children are sent away for the summer to the countryside, which turns out to be a wonderful mystical place -- you know the kind of book I mean. Summer holidays are rife with magical adventures in the British Isles, it seems.

Anyway, I can only remember fragments about this book. Definitely at least two children were involved, one boy for sure. Something about gardens, and an evil witch in the garden next door, and a gate that she couldn't cross. Blackberry canes, which I didn't understand (I pictured candy canes entwined with blackberry vines), and ash keys, which also made no sense. Early in the book, the children, bored, try to toast marshmallows by stringing them on a thread with a needle and dangling it over a fire, but the fire goes out and leaves a scorch mark on the ground. I think their beds turned into boats in the middle of the night. And later, in trying to escape from the evil witch, the boy does something with rowan berries and a piece of string that has been dyed red with the blood from his skinned knee. I remembered the magical rhyme -- "rowan berries and red thread, stop a witch in her speed." (And I remembered being annoyed that the "rhyme" didn't, at least in my American accent.)

But I didn't know the title or author, and so I didn't have the first clue how to find this book. On a whim, I typed the magical rhyme into Google. Three hyperlinks later, I was looking at a copy of the book on eBay.

None of this has anything to do with cooking, really, but I'm so happy with the magic of the internet, that I just wanted to share. And to suggest that if you are lucky enough to have a copy of Timothy and the Two Witches by Margaret Storey, go and re-read it. I can't wait.

It's a What?

2006-03-28T20:09:00.000-05:00

So we flew to Florida last weekend, where Dimples grew up and his parents still live, so he could defrost a little from the New York chill. (Mighty has been the grumping of late when every Saturday is too cold for city wandering.) Great weekend, flight delays notwithstanding, and I have two events of note to relate.

1. I went jet-skiing! And, more crucially -- lived to tell the tale! (Of course, I was no more than a limpet clinging to Dimples's back, occasionally providing him with an unnecessary rendition of the Heimlich maneuver when we hit choppy water.)

2. The Floridians, they do not lie when they boast about their citrus. I spotted what appeared to be grapefruit on his mother's counter -- my usual conclusion about a yellow citrus fruit with a diameter larger than a softball. But no! These were lemons! Ponderosa lemons, to be precise, which apparently are just very, very big lemons. To wit:

Now that's a lemon.

Inspired (and a little frightened), I offer you this recipe for lovely lemon muffins, made with olive oil for a more vibrant flavor. No ponderosa lemons were harmed in the making of these muffins, because I wouldn't dare.

Lemon-Scented Olive Oil Muffins
Adapted from Cooking Light

Muffins:
1 c. all-purpose flour
0.5 c. sugar
1 tsp. baking powder
o.25 tsp. salt
0.5 c. nonfat sour cream
1.5 T grated lemon rind
2 T. excellent extra-virgin olive oil
1.5 T. skim milk
2 tsp. fresh lemon juice
1 large egg
1 large egg white

Glaze:
1 c. powdered sugar
0.5 tsp. grated lemon peel
3-4 T. fresh lemon juice

Heat oven to 350. Mix flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl with a whisk, then make a well in the center.

Combine sour cream, lemon rind, olive oil, milk, lemon juice, egg, and egg white in a small bowl, mixing well. Add to the well in the flour mixture and stir just until moist. Resist the urge to stir until the lumps are gone -- you will regret it.

Spoon the batter into 10 sprayed muffin cups. Bake at 350 for 25 minutes or until the muffins spring back when you touch them lightly in the center. Remove from pan immediately and cool on a wire rack.

For the glaze, combine the powdered sugar, lemon peel, and enough lemon juice to create a consistency that pleases you. Drop the glaze onto the cooled muffins and let stand until set.

* I used my new olive oil from the Ferry Building, which has a lovely bold flavor. If you use a regular olive oil, the flavor will be more of a supporting player.

Can I Interest You in a Doorstop?

2006-03-23T18:21:00.000-05:00

So this would've been my St. Patrick's Day post, if Blogger hadn't eaten it -- approximately twenty-three times. Anyway.

When traveling in rural Ireland last year, we ate a lot of simple food -- potatoes, of course, but also lamb stew, beef braised in Guinness, and thick upright-spoon-supporting soups. And with everything came baskets of thinly-sliced brown bread, dense but sweet, perfect for sopping up juices and gravy. Loved it. Ate a LOT of it. Hadn't been able to replicate it.

So when the latest issue of Saveur (which I am soooo not renewing) included an Irish brown bread recipe, I thought, hey, BNA! This is your next project. Go forth, and bake.

So I did. I thought ten cups of whole wheat flour sounded like an awful lot, and heaped in my mixing bowl, it certainly looked like an awful lot, but I am nothing if not a faithful recipe adherent.

I was prepared for a certain denseness. This is not supposed to be a light and fluffy loaf, after all, and it only rises once. But, dude. These loaves were so dense, they bent light -- the wheat version of a black hole, if you will.

Ok, maybe it was me, but still. I'm not publishing the recipe -- I don't want it propogating and I don't want to be liable if someone accidentally drops a slice and smashes a toe. The real stuff is too good to besmirch.

March Madness

2006-03-21T20:36:00.000-05:00

So I've been pretty out of the food blogging loop lately, much to my chagrin. I've had to severely cut back my blog-surfing at work, because I was becoming appallingly unproductive. My present job is a one-year position, and I needed to step up the pace with my assignments. And, contrary to what I might wish, perusing the latest culinary adventures of my blogging fellows was not helping me put the pedal to the metal.

(This is, obviously, no one's fault but my own. If I possessed the self-restraint of the average three-year-old, such draconian measures wouldn't have been necessary. But...well, at least I can admit to my faults. Some of them, anyway.)

So blog-time at work has slowed to a trickle. At home, the internet connection is spotty and there are the usual interruptions (cats), distractions (cats), and yowls for attention (...guess). And then we've been traveling and hosting quite a bit since Valentine's Day.

All of which is simply to say, I'm sorry I haven't been commenting as frequently on everyone's sites, and I do hope to be a more frequent poster and commenter soon. (I'm working on that self-restraint thing.) I'm also hoping to plan my time better so I can participate in more blogging events, which have been awesome for getting me out of my culinary ruts.

One habit I have when working on a tight deadline is braiding my hair -- colleagues at my San Francisco firm knew that if they saw me in the hallway with pigtail braids, things were going okay, but if I escalated to the French-braid spiral, then doomsday was nigh. With my hair now in too many layers for easy braiding, but still feeling tense and out of sorts, last week I turned my plaiting fingers loose on dough.

I love challah. It's a celebratory bread, a beautiful burnished way of ushering in a better mood. I've tried many recipes over the years, but this one from the Madison is probably my favorite. I recommend it for the next time you need to let your hair down but can't manage to put it up.*

Challah
Adapted from Deborah Madison's Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone

2.25 c. warm water
2.25 tsp. (1 envelope) active dry yeast
3 T. sugar
3 eggs, beaten -- reserve 2 T.
0.25 c. vegetable oil
1 T. salt
6-7 c. all-purpose flour, preferably King Arthur
poppy seeds, optional

Mix the yeast with 0.25 c. warm water and 1 tsp. sugar in a small bowl, and set it aside until it's foamy, about 10 minutes.

Stir the yeast mixture into 2 c. warm water in a large bowl, then add the rest of the sugar, the eggs, the oil, and the salt. Add the flour a cup at a time, stirring with a wooden spoon to make a smooth batter. When it becomes hard to manage, tip it onto a floured surface and knead in the rest of the flour until you have a satiny, smooth dough. This always takes longer than you think it should -- about 10 minutes.

Oil a large bowl, then add the dough and turn to coat. Cover and set aside in a warmish place until doubled in bulk, about an hour. Punch it down, divide in half, and then divide each half into three equal balls.

Now return to your Play-Doh days, and roll each piece into a rope between 10 and 12 inches long. Take three strands and pinch their ends together to give you a place to start your braid. Braid the strands, taking care to periodically nudge the braid together to avoid stretching. When you come to the end, press the ends together and tuck them under to seal. Repeat with the other three strands.

Place the braids onto greased baking sheets, cover, and set aside until they double in size, about 45 minutes. Heat the oven to 375 degrees during the last 15 minutes, then make an egg wash with the reserved egg and 1 T. water. Brush the wash over the dough, taking care to dab it into the crevices of the braids. Sprinkle with poppy seeds, if you like.

Bake about 45 minutes, or until the bread is "burnished gold," as the Madison puts it. Cool on a rack and try to keep yourself from ripping your lovely braids apart before you admire your handiwork.

*Here at Peanut Butter and Purple Onions, we specialize in the mangled metaphor.

WCB #41

2006-03-19T09:35:00.000-05:00

Friday was Widget and Max's first birthday! My St. Patrick's Day kittens are now officially catlings.

Here are some pictures from the first day I brought them home -- to our still-in-boxes apartment. Widget was all about exploring from the first minute, but Max was pretty timid and huddled in the carrier...until he discovered the joys of wrestling his brother!

...update -- I've managed to armwrestle Blogger into uploading two pictures, but we are now at an impasse. Oh well, future WCB editions await.

Blogger Is My New Nemesis

2006-03-19T09:22:00.000-05:00

Argh. Can't comment on posts, new posts vanish into the ether, half the time can't even see my own blog.

I assume the Blogger Powers That Be are working on this...bear with me.

How I Spent My Weekend

2006-03-16T22:03:00.000-05:00

Actually, this is not at all an accurate representation. Two of my dearest friends got married in a gorgeous ceremony in downtown San Francisco, and -- amazingly, because, come on -- everything was flawless. Stunning. And any other superlative you can imagine.

But here are two non-wedding related photos, capturing two of the non-wedding highlights of the weekend.

First, our spread from Cowgirl Creamery at the Ferry Building...

I hear it's a bit passe now to declare abject adoration for the Ferry Building, but I ask you: how can we not? How can we not swear endless fealty to a place that offers Cowgirl Creamery, Acme Bakery, a wine shop, an herb shop, an olive oil shop, tea, chocolate (2x), more baked goods, caviar, oysters...? And Slanted Door? There's nowhere else that captures the over-the-top earnestness and gourmet hedonism of Northern California. Wonderful.

And then I came home to my Penzey's order! Do you think I went overboard?

Don't worry, these aren't all new. I bought a gadzillion empty bottles, because the mishmash hodgepodge of different sizes and shapes was driving me insane. I spent a happy two hours sorting, organizing, transferring. And now my hands smell like cardamom (slight mishap with a carton of pods).

How cool is that?

Oh Happy Day!

2006-03-09T09:18:00.000-05:00

Trader Joe's is coming to New York!

And I am off to San Francisco. Have a great weekend, all!

This Is What the White Rabbit Must Have Felt Like

2006-03-07T22:35:00.000-05:00

...when he was late for a very important date.

I had plans for the evening, my friends. I had a menu to make: lemon-ginger chicken, couscous, roasted fennel. I was even going to write it up if it went well, considering both my cooking and my posting have fallen by the wayside lately.

But do you know what was demurely waiting for me in the mail today?

Oh yes. That's right. The new Penzey's Spices catalog.

Obviously, you understand that I now have no choice but to stay up until I've finished reading every. Single. Entry.

Don't let the bedbugs bite!

p.s.
The lemon-ginger chicken turned out very well, and it's absurdly easy. Zest a lemon, squeeze all the juice out of it, pop the zest and juice into a Ziploc, and add 2 tsp. minced ginger, 2 tsp. brown sugar, 1 tsp. peanut oil, and 2 chopped dried red chiles. Add four bone-in skinless chicken thighs, give it a good shake, and marinate them in the refrigerator overnight. Dump everything into a baking dish and bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes, checking for doneness at 30 minutes.

WCB #39

2006-03-04T16:56:00.000-05:00

So sleepy...

Visit Kiri and his friends over at Clare's!

They Look Like Biscotti to Me...

2006-02-28T18:43:00.000-05:00

...but according to Cooking Light, they're Italian Anise Cookies. Well, okay.

Any way you slice it (so to speak), these are mighty tasty. Almonds and anise are a classic Italian flavor combination, one I've always loved. These are wonderful crunched on their own, or dipped into a mug of tea.

Italian Anise Cookies
Adapted from Cooking Light

3 c. all-purpose flour
2 tsp. baking powder
1 c. sugar
2 large eggs
2 egg whites
0.25 c. melted butter
0.5 to 0.75 chopped almonds (vary the fineness of the chop according to how much you like to bite into chunks of almond)
1.5 tsp. aniseed

Whisk flour and baking powder together. In another bowl, pour in the sugar, eggs, and egg whites, then beat on high until fluffy. Beat in the butter, then gradually add the flour mixture, almonds, and aniseed. The dough will be quite sticky and soft.

Divide the dough in half as best you can and turn out each half onto a separate sheet of wax paper. Shape the dough into rolls about eight inches long and 4-5 inches across, depending on what length you want the cookies to be. Chill the dough for an hour.

Heat the oven to 350. Unwrap the rolls, keeping the profanity to a minimum if there are small children about, and place on greased baking sheets. Bake 30 minutes or until lightly browned. Remove them and cool 10 minutes on a wire rack, then slice crosswise into slices, between .25" and .5". Place the slices on a baking sheet and bake 5 minutes. Turn the slices over and bake another 5 minutes. Cool the cookies on the rack.

And Here I Thought It Was a Figure of Speech

2006-02-27T19:58:00.000-05:00

So I often describe great dislike or fervent opposition as a "violent magenta passion." To wit: "BNA hates raw tomatoes with a violent magenta passion." Etc., etc.

Until yesterday, I didn't realize that I was in fact capable of physically reproducing aforementioned passion, in all its torrid magentaness. See?

Isn't it amazing? Obviously, there are beets in there. They've been simmered in vegetable broth with fennel, Savoy cabbage, garlic, and ginger. Then pureed. Honestly, it's even more lurid in person -- it looks like cerise paint.

Oh, and by the by, it tastes AWFUL and I will not burden you with the recipe.

What the Hey?

2006-02-27T10:24:00.000-05:00

Not sure what's going on with the missing links...heck, the entire missing sidebar. Hopefully it'll right itself soon.

You CAN Take It With You

2006-02-25T13:11:00.000-05:00

As long as we're talking about oatmeal.

I've been kind of obsessed with oatmeal lately. I eat big bowls of it, strewn with tiny Maine blueberries and laced with cinnamon and nutmeg. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Enormous steaming spoonfuls of oatmeal on a chilly afternoon? Perfect. (Mom, who was required to eat oatmeal as a girl and now hates it with a violent magenta passion, is probably quite perplexed.)

It's not all that portable, though, so when you want oatmeal to go, try mixing up a batch of these. They're quick to make and wonderful hot or cooled. I'm partial to the pumpkin variation, but the basic applesauce-based recipe is really very good -- like an oatmeal brownie without the chocolate. (That probably doesn't make a lot of sense.)

Baked Oatmeal
Adapted from the Weight Watchers message boards

Makes one 8x8 pan.

2 c. rolled oats (quick-cooking will work)
1.5 tsp. baking powder
0.5 tsp. salt
1.5 T. cinnamon
2 dashes nutmeg
1 c. skim milk
2 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla
0.5 c. unsweetened applesauce
0.25 c. Splenda baking blend

Heat the oven to 350 and spray an 8x8 pan with baking spray (the kind with flour). Mix the dry ingredients in one bowl and the wet ones in another; combine. Pour the mixture into the pan and bake 35-45 minutes. I find 40 minutes is usually about right.

Notes:
* Pumpkin variation -- replace the applesauce with canned pumpkin and add several dashes ground ginger and one dash cloves.
* The bars have a crumbly texture when hot. After cooling, they will be a little sticky.

WCB #38

2006-02-25T12:35:00.000-05:00

Max would prefer that you not approach the apricot jam.

Visit Clare's to see Kiri and his friends!

I Guess Traditional Doesn't Always Mean Pretty

2006-02-22T20:11:00.000-05:00

Looks like I made mud soup, doesn't it? Well, perhaps clay. Earthy, anyway.

It's actually black bean soup. More precisely, it's Boston-style black bean soup, which is apparently a traditional, sort of old-fashioned way of cooking black beans with warm spices like cloves and dry mustard. Despite the pallid appearance, trust me -- this is a rich and savory soup. I've been taking it to work all week for lunch.

Does this mean I have to try Manhattan-style clam chowder next?

Boston-Style Black Bean Soup
Adapted from Deborah Madison's Vegetarian Soups from Deborah Madison's Kitchen

Makes about 2.5 quarts.

1.5 c. black beans
2 T. butter or olive oil
1 c. finely chopped yellow onion
3 bay leaves
0.5 c. finely diced celery
2 tsp. minced garlic
1.5 tsp. dry mustard
0.5 tsp. ground cloves
1 c. nf milk
fresh lemon juice
lemon slices
whole cloves

Soak the beans at least four hours and preferably overnight. Drain well.

Melt the butter in a large soup pot with a lid. Add the onion, bay leaves, celery, and garlic, and cook until the onion turns soft and translucent. Stir in the mustard and cloves, then add the beans and two quarts of water. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat, cover the pot, and simmer for about an hour. Add 2 tsp. salt and cook another 30 minutes, covered, or until the beans are soft.

Remove the soup from the heat and cool briefly. Puree the soup with an immersion blender if you're lucky enough to have one, and in a regular blender in batches if you're like me. Return the soup to the pot and stir in the milk. Bring the soup back up to a soothingly warm eating temperature.

If you like, squeeze a bit of lemon juice into each bowl, and float clove-studded slice of lemon on top.

Notes:
* I'm sure it would be even richer with regular milk or half and half.
* Next time I would add some more cloves and maybe a shake of nutmeg.

She's Back!

2006-02-18T16:14:00.000-05:00

So I didn't cook a single thing all week. What with two dinners out and, more significantly, the leftover Baked Penne, there was neither time nor need. This has been fairly traumatic, not just because I cook to unwind, but because last Monday, while browsing the cookbook section of The Strand, I found this book.

Devorit and I adore Deborah Madison's Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone. It's our go-to source for every culinary question not involving meat and a fantastic inspiration. Although I'm not presently vegetarian, I try to eat meat in no more than a quarter of my meals. "The Madison," as we call VCfE, is invaluable in that regard, but honestly, I've given the book to avowed carnivores and they universally love it. It's just an awesome book.

Typical conversation between Devorit and me:

Devorit: So, I bought some parsnips.
BNA: Dude. Cool. What're you going to do with them?
D: Beats me. Going to check the Madison.
B: You are wise.

The Madison's never let me down. I didn't get her second-latest book, Vegetarian Suppers from Deborah Madison's Kitchen, showing what I thought was rather heroic restraint. But when I found her new Vegetarian Soups book, nothing could keep me away.

I've read it through and earmarked about twelve recipes as "to try immediately." I started this afternoon with this one, which she rather coyly calls "Delicious Dieter's Soup." Not a fan of the name, but I'm thrilled with the soup. Don't let the mild-mannered appearance fool you -- the chile and ginger give it a savory heat, the lime a bright tang, and the miso a wonderful roundness.

Delicious Dieter's Soup
Adapted from Deborah Madison's Vegetarian Soups from Deborah Madison's Kitchen

Makes about 10 cups.

4 c. chopped green cabbage
2 med. celery ribs, sliced on the diagonal
1 sm. onion, thinly sliced
1 med. carrot, thinly sliced
12 fat garlic cloves, 6 thinly sliced and 6 finely chopped
4 T. grated ginger
1 jalapeno chile, seeded if you prefer less heat, finely diced
juice of 1 lime
0.33 c. white miso
roasted sesame oil, optional

Bring 6 cups water to a boil in a large soup pot with a lid. Add the cabbage, celery, onion, carrot, and sliced garlic cloves. Cover and cook (at a boil) for 20 minutes.

Stir in the chopped garlic cloves, ginger, and chile; turn off the heat. Add the lime juice and the miso and stir to dissolve. That's it. If you like, add a few drops of roasted sesame oil to your bowl.

Notes:
* One cup is 1 Point.
* I accidentally chopped about six cups of cabbage, so I added an extra 2 c. water and it didn't seem to make a difference.
* I included the seeds and veins of the chile and enjoyed the heat, but next time I'd probably add another. I'm demented.

Snowed-In Pasta Bake

2006-02-12T21:07:00.000-05:00

So, now I have seen it, and I I believe it. Two feet of snow in Central Park! Our section of the island was hushed all day, blanketed in white. And I really felt like I had achieved a New York Moment during yoga this morning in the living room, high above the city, surrounded by endless snowfall.

Now, the stores were open here; it wasn't that bad a storm. But I liked the idea of making something comforting and defiantly rich without leaving the snugness of the apartment. Plus, each time a clump of icicles crashes past our windows from apartments above, the kittens bolt for the nearest lap and even when both humans are home, that's a 1:1 ratio. So I perused the shelves, and here's what I came up with. It's not fancy or original, but it oozes cheese, radiates warmth, and filled us to the brim. Without leaving the house!

Baked Penne with Faux-Bolognese
Adapted from Williams-Sonoma's Pasta

Serves a whole heck of a lot. Probably 8 at least.

1 c. part-skim ricotta
1 egg yolk
1 c. grated pecorino romano, divided equally
mega pinch of freshly grated nutmeg
1 lb. penne rigate
4-5 c. faux bolognese (see below)
0.5 lb part-skim mozzarella, cut into small cubes

Heat oven to 425 F. Oil a large baking dish with olive oil and put a large pot of salted water on to boil.

Mix the ricotta, yolk, 0.5 c. pecorino, and nutmeg together in a very large bowl. Season to taste with salt and pepper. For me, this means a lot of pepper, but go easy on the salt; you're going to be adding plenty of that with the sauce and additional romano later.

Cook the penne until slightly shy of al dente. Drain, then add the pasta to the bowl with the ricotta mixture. Stir well to coat the pasta with the ricotta. Now pour in the faux bolognese and the mozzarella, and again stir well.

Pour everything into your baking dish and spread it evenly. Sprinkle the rest of the romano over the top, and drizzle with additional olive oil. Bake 20 minutes or until bubbling and lightly browned. Let it sit 3-5 minutes before you scoop into it.

Notes:
* I made a faux bolognese by (a) sauteeing a minced onion and two fat minced garlic cloves in olive oil until soft, (b) adding a minced carrot and celery stalk and cooking a little longer, (c) adding 14 oz. of browned "Gimme Lean" pseudo-ground beef, 28 oz. crushed tomatoes, and several generous shakes of dried oregano and thyme and heating over low heat for thirty minutes, then (d) stirring in 0.25 c. grated romano and salt and pepper to taste.
* You could substitute real bolognese or another tomato sauce, of course. I prefer not to use ground beef -- Gimme Lean makes a great vegetarian substitute.
* Next time I'd add some toasted fennel seeds and some fresh parsley to the pasta mixture.

Scurvy Cure

2006-02-11T21:34:00.000-05:00

Dimples is very enthusiastic about lemons. And when I say "enthusiastic," what I mean is "rhapsodic, verging on starry-eyed, and not to be left alone in the citrus section of Whole Foods."

For well over a year now, he's been not-so-idly mentioning his grandmother's famous lemon sherbert. (Sherbet? Now both options look weird to me. I don't know.) Despite the fact that we're supposed to get a foot of snow this weekend (...I'll believe it when I see it), last night he decided that this was the perfect time. So that was our late-night project. Several pulped lemons and one scraped knuckle later, we poured a vat of citrus-scented milk and sugar into a brownie pan. And this morning, we were rewarded with a 9x13 sheet of creamy frozen lemonness. It looks like a sheet cake made of ice cream, actually.

I don't know the technical distinctions between the frozen desserts -- ice cream, ice milk, sherbert, gelato, sorbet, granita, etc. Ignorance notwithstanding, this recipe strikes me as sort of a milky granita. Dimples says his family's always eaten it in chunks, cut from the pan, or alternatively mooshed up in a glass with fruit juice. The lemon flavor comes through clean and bright, and the texture has a nice crunch, not too sharp on the tongue.

Dimples's Lemon Sherbert

0.67 c. fresh-squeezed lemon juice
zest of one lemon
4 c. whole milk
1.75 c. white sugar

Mix everything together in a large bowl, then pour into a 13x9 pan and freeze. Check it after 2-3 hours and stir the slush around a bit, then allow to freeze solid. Cut into squares and enjoy your frozen vitamin C.

WCB #36

2006-02-11T21:27:00.000-05:00

Widget and Max are practicing their snuggles for the snowy weekend...

Visit Clare's to see what the other kittens are up to around the world!

When in Doubt, Make a Sandwich Out of It

2006-02-08T20:07:00.000-05:00

It's a good philosophy, don't you think? So many things are made infinitely better by stuffing them inside of two pieces of bread. I've been an enthusiastic supporter of the sandwichification method ever since I chewed my way through my first fried egg sandwich. I couldn't have been more than ten, and until then I had refused to eat fried eggs, which had a weird floppy/gooky texture to me. (Three cheers for Mom, who would patiently scramble my eggs while frying everyone else's.) But someone, can't remember who, handed me one morning the miracle of a fried egg, draped with cheese, and crammed between two slices of whole wheat buttered toast. Utter heaven.

Since then, bread has lived in serious fear of its life around me. I'll make a sandwich out of nearly anything -- pasta (be careful of penne, it'll shoot out of the back of the 'wich), frittatas, salads. Jello. Ok, only once with that last, and yes, it was on a dare.

So when I spied this recipe, I knew what we would do with it -- slather toasted bread with searing mustard, pile on the baby spinach, and top it off with layers of the spicy roasted pork. It worked even better than I thought it would. I can honestly say this was the best pork tenderloin I have ever made, and you'd never think it's a WW recipe.

I suppose, if you really wanted to, you could eat it sans bread -- maybe with some mashed potatoes to cool the heat. But -- seriously. Make it a sandwich.

(sorry the picture's a little weird...)

Jalapeno-Marinated Pork Tenderloin
Adapted from Weight Watchers New Complete Cookbook

Serves 4.

zest of 1 orange
0.25 c. fresh orange juice
4 tsp. extra virgin olive oil
1-2 jalapeno chiles, sliced (use 1 if you're sensitive to heat, and remove the veins and seeds)
2-3 cloves garlic, sliced
1.5 tsp. ground cumin
0.5 tsp. salt
0.5 tsp. black pepper
1 lb. pork tenderloin

Make a marinade by whisking together all the ingredients except the pork in a small bowl. Put the pork inside a gallon-size Ziploc and pour the marinade in. Seal the bag and squish the pork around to fully coat. Toss it in the fridge for at least two hours and up to overnight. Turn it occasionally so it doesn't feel neglected.

Heat the oven to 450. Line your roasting pan with aluminum foil and spray it with nonstick spray. Place the tenderloin on the pan and pour the marinade over. If you're fond of heat, press the chile slices onto the surface of the roast. Roast 5 minutes, then turn the heat down to 350 and roast another 15-18 minutes. The internal temperature you're looking for is 165 F.

Let stand 5-10 minutes before slicing.

Notes:
* 4 points per serving.
* This sauce is a quick version of a mojo sauce, which I (perhaps inaccurately) associate with the Caribbean. Mojo sauces or marinades usually contain olive oil, lots of garlic, paprika or chili powder, something acidic like vinegar or citrus juices, and cumin. It's also awesome on chicken.
* This pork has some serious chile heat with the two jalapenos, so tone it down if you're not a freak like me who enjoys wincing while she eats.

ARF/5-a-Day Tuesday -- Blackberry Muffins

2006-02-07T18:17:00.000-05:00

Dimples loves blackberries, so when the baking bug descended this last weekend, I scrabbled through my recipe box until I found this clipping. I figured this way he'd be more likely to help out with the results. And I was right!

The oats give these a toothsome texture, and the blackberries are bright and cheerful. Good for beating the winter blues -- and I choose to believe that the combination of oats and blackberries make these entirely healthful and virtuous. Ahem.

Whole-Grain Blackberry Spice Muffins
Adapted from Cooking Light

Makes 15 or so.

2 c. flour
1 c. rolled oats
1 c. packed dark brown sugar
1.5 tsp. baking powder
0.5 tsp. baking soda
0.5 tsp. salt
0.25 tsp. cinnamon
0.25 tsp. nutmeg
dash cloves
dash ginger
1 c. skim milk
3 T. butter, melted
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 egg, beaten
1.5 c. frozen blackberries
granulated sugar

Heat the oven to 400. Chop the blackberries and return them to the freezer as you continue. Line a muffin tin with paper muffin cups and spray them with nonstick cooking spray.

Combine flour, oats, brown sugar, baking powder and soda, salt, and spices in a large bowl. In another bowl, mix the milk, butter, vanilla, and egg together. Make a well in the dry ingredients and add the wet ingredients. Mix gently to combine. Stir in the blackberries.

Spoon 0.25 c. batter into each muffin cup. Bake for 16 minutes, then sprinkle the muffins with a little granulated sugar. Return the muffins to the oven for another 3 minutes, or until they spring back when touched lightly.

Cool in pans on wire racks for ten minutes.

This week Stephanie at Dispensing Happiness is hosting the roundup -- thanks Stephanie!

Fish for One

2006-02-05T18:13:00.000-05:00

I need to correct an error in a prior post. It is simply no longer true that steamed mussels is the easiest seafood dish I know. Not that the mussels aren't impossibly easy -- they are. (Make them!) But now I have an even simpler preparation to share.

The problem in our apartment is that Dimples generally doesn't eat things that swim. (Two exceptions: shrimp -- to which I am allergic -- and tuna, as long as it's converted into a sandwich filling.) So, although I have no objection to leftovers on principle, in reality, seafood recipes that make more than two servings rarely catch my eye.

So when I saw Giada folding individual pieces of fish into aluminum foil packets, I perked up. Aha! It doesn't get much more serving-for-one than that. Plus, it includes its own side dish -- how cool is that?

So I made it, with the toppings adjusted down from four servings, and -- wow. The fish steams to delicate perfection inside its packet, the spinach wilts under the gingery garlicky onslaught, and the whole process takes only 20 minutes from the moment I turn on the oven to the second I sit down to steamy goodness in a bowl. Meanwhile, I am doing essentially nothing to help this dish along. Ordering a pizza takes more effort. Seriously.

You can see Giada's original recipe here, but this is a very flexible dish, allowing you to substitute different salty, spicy, or sweet components nearly at will. And it will STILL be the easiest fish recipe around.

Can I repeat the part about how it's perfect for one person? How about the part where I tell you how easy it is? How about I just give you the recipe already?

Steamed Fish for One
Adapted from Giada de Laurentiis

Serves, uh, 1.

1 4-oz piece of flaky-rather-than-steaky fish (cod's my favorite, but salmon works well too)
3-4 c. baby spinach
1-2 tsp. grated fresh ginger
1 tsp. minced garlic
2 T. reduced-sodium soy sauce
1 tsp. sesame oil or toasted sesame oil
0.5 tsp. chile oil or 1 tsp. red pepper flakes or 5-6 pickled jalapeno slices or 1 tsp. Tabasco (all spicy components optional)
squeeze of lemon or lime or orange or sprinkle of unsweetened rice vinegar or quick dash of lemon or orange zest

Start your wristwatch timer.

Heat the oven to 400. Tear off a 12" square of aluminum foil. Pile up the baby spinach in the center of the foil, then place the fish atop the heap. Sprinkle over the ginger and garlic (I like to use the Microplane directly over the fish). Pour the soy sauce over, being careful not to let it trickle off the foil. Dribble or sprinkle the additional flavorings you're using over the fish.

Twist up the sides of the foil and seal together to make a shiny packet of goodness. Put it on a baking sheet and pop it into the oven for ten minutes. Take it out and let it rest for 2-3 minutes before you open it over a large bowl to catch the fish, spinach, and glorious briny broth.

Notes:
* I calculate Giada's original recipe (which includes Marsala) at 4 points for the fish and spinach both. How cool is that?
* My biggest complaint about this dish is that it cools very quickly once it's in my bowl, but that just means I eat it rather speedily (some could say greedily).

WCB #35

2006-02-05T18:00:00.000-05:00

...so this is how the Manhattan cat stays clean.

Don't worry, we double-checked the bag before sending it off to the laundry!

Go visit Clare's to see what Kiri and his friends are up to!

Virtual Recipe Club -- Soups!

2006-02-01T12:45:00.000-05:00

Alysha at the lovely blog The Savory Notebook has started a Virtual Recipe Club -- brilliant -- and this edition's theme is Soup. I love the idea of this event, so even though this week's going to be short on cooking (I twisted my ankle while snowboarding last weekend -- vicious ski lifts! -- and so I'm doing as little standing as possible so the darn thing will heal), I'm offering a recipe from a previous post.

(You think there are enough dashes, asides, and whatnot in the previous paragraph? Good grief.)

Tomato Soup with Pancetta is hearty and warming, and a thrifty way to make the most of that heel of bread lingering on the counter. Sometimes leftovers thicken a little too much, in which case I thin it out with a little marinara sauce before reheating. Add a grilled cheese sandwich and all will be right with the world.

ARF/5-A-Day Tuesdays #5: So Much for That Bottle

2006-01-30T19:19:00.000-05:00

...of chile oil, that is.

I found a teeny bottle of chile oil in my oil and vinegar cupboard the other day. Can't really remember where I got it -- and that should frighten us all, friends, because I've only been here since June. (Although in that time, I've now managed to acquire THREE boxes of cornstarch. How? Why? I barely use the stuff. I blame the cats.)

So anyway, when a cupboard gives you chile oil, I say make fake stir-fry. Fake because, well, let's not fool ourselves. This is not authentic. (If you are interested in seeing how to cook authentic Asian cuisine, I highly recommend Tigers & Strawberries.) But it's quick, and tasty, and it used all my chile oil. And I do so love to use up bottles of this and that. Doesn't it make you feel virtuous and thrifty?

Even when you don't know where the bottles came from.

Spicy Stir-Fry
Adapted from the Weight Watchers website

Serves 4.

2-3 tsp. chile oil
1 lb. pork stir-fry meat, in bite-sized pieces
5 med. garlic cloves, minced
1 T. minced ginger root
2-3 tsp. crushed red pepper
2 tsp. cornstarch, mixed with 0.25 c. water
1 lb. package frozen stir-fry vegetables -- broccoli, water chestnuts, carrots, red bell pepper, etc.
3 T. soy sauce
1 tsp. unseasoned rice vinegar
1.5 tsp. orange-ginger marmalade

In a large skillet (or wok, should you have one, which I do not, alas, alack-a-day), heat 1 tsp. chile oil. Add pork and cook, stirring frequently, until it browns and is just cooked through. Remove the meat to a plate.

Add the rest of the oil, then add the garlic, ginger, and red pepper. Cook, stirring constantly, and being careful not to let the mixture burn, until the garlic is golden and everything's fragrant.

Add the vegetables and cook, still stirring frequently, until they heat through. (They may steam quite a bit in a sort of dry-ice fog way. This is kind of fun.) Add the soy sauce, vinegar, and marmalade and stir well; pour in the cornstarch/water mixture and bring to a boil.

Return the meat to the skillet and stir everything together. Serve over rice, if you like.

Notes:
* Without rice, this comes in at 5 Weight Watchers Points per serving.
* I added two extra cups of broccoli, because I wanted to boost the veggie quotient.
* I also added a shake or two of sesame oil for more flavor.

This is my entry for Sweetnicks' ARF/5-a-Day Tuesdays!

I Think I Have a Problem

2006-01-30T12:30:00.000-05:00

...I just called to make reservations at Otto for next week, when a friend of mine from high school is in town with his wife. I swear to you, I did not insist on Otto. In fact I sent him an email with five or six options, including such non-Mario restaurants as Tabla, Tamarind, and Barbuto.

He said Barbuto or Otto. Turns out, Barbuto's booked. What else was I supposed to do?

So I called the reservationist just now, and gave her the info, and after she asked for my name and contact information, I expected her to tell me how I need to call the day before to confirm the reservation. Instead, she said cheerfully, "Okay, I think you know the drill by now, right?"

Sigh. And you know what? She's right.

I have the number memorized.

WCB #34

2006-01-29T09:00:00.000-05:00

...AKA, the travails of Manhattan real estate.

Dimples thought it would be funny to build a little kitty condo out of two discarded Crate & Barrel boxes. Here we see the finished condo (and the leg of the architect)...

As always when a new property is available, the competition is fierce. Here we see the first interested tenant, Widget, who inspects the condo.

Widget deems it good.

Poor Max just isn't as quick as Widget. "Hey Widge, wanna be roommates?"

Widget: "Are you kidding? Have you seen the closet space here?"

"Aw man!"

"This just isn't the same!"

"All this househunting has me depressed. Mom, take me snowboarding with you, please?"

As you can imagine, the condo was pretty much torn to shreds when we came back from the slopes. It's a tough market.

Visit the other kitties over at Masak-Masak!

Well, That Was a New Experience

2006-01-27T10:31:00.000-05:00

My hair froze today while I was walking to work.

I'm still giggling about this.

I know, I know, it's too cold to be going outside with wet hair. But when the alarm buzzes, I go through the same argument with myself pretty much every day:

Sensible BNA: Ok, get up. You need the extra fifteen minutes to dry your hair.
Lazy BNA: Nope! Can't do it. I'm pinned by Widget here.
Sensible: ...you're pinned by the eight-pound cat?
Lazy: He's very dense, okay?
Sensible: Dense or not, he just hopped off the bed, indicating that he is well aware that it is time for you to get up, feed him, and get going.
Lazy: But it's raaaaaining!
Sensible: The cats don't eat when it rains?
Lazy: Fifteen minutes won't kill them. But my point is, why dry my hair when it's raining? Is this not the ultimate exercise in futility? Remember how I walk to work?
Sensible: ....
Lazy: See you in fifteen.

So I'd say I dry my hair maybe two days out of five. This was never a problem in San Francisco (and in addition to the "it's raining" argument, I had the "it's foggy" rejoinder), but everyone's been telling me lately that I'm risking serious head cold trouble if I go on with the air dry method here.

And today, the damn hair actually froze. Into ten or twelve clumps, which rattled against my jacket collar as I walked. I cannot imagine what I must've looked like (it had melted by the time I made it upstairs to the mirror).

This may be a sign that it's time to just get out of bed already.

10 Things You Didn't Know About Me (and maybe didn't want to)

2006-01-25T15:57:00.000-05:00

I do love a good meme, food-related or otherwise, and Kristen tagged me for another of the list-ish ones that have been tumbling around lately. Now something you might already know about me is that I really really like lists -- so, wooo!

Lessee. I have a crush on Mario Batali...oh wait. I've already confessed to that one.

10. My mom, Devorit, and I all have an identical mole on our right shoulder.

9. I can recite (usually at break-neck speed) the monarchs of England from William the Conqueror through James II (but I really don't care about the ones who came after Richard III. GO YORK!).

8. When I was a kid, I was infamous for drinking sideways. I mean, I wasn't sideways, but I'd hold the glass or can or whatnot off to the side of my mouth and tilt it at alarming angles while drinking in dribbles. The reason? So that the glass wouldn't block my view of whatever book I was reading. Yeah.

7. My absolute favorite sandwich in kindergarten was pickle, cheese, and ketchup. And can you imagine, no one wanted to trade with me. (I originally lobbied for pickle and ketchup sandwiches; Mom insisted on the cheese for protein purposes.)

6. I have kind of a spooky aural memory. For example, Dad has a four-hour long album set of Nicol Williamson reading The Hobbit -- which I recommend above all things if you can find it. The soundtrack of my childhood. I can queue up my memory and play the whole thing in my head at will. Which comes in handy on boring plane rides.

5. I developed an allergy to shellfish on my 21st birthday, and I've been brokenhearted ever since. Why are we never allergic to things we hate?

4. I got kicked out of ballet class when I was five for talking too much. Also, we had to wear pink tights and I would only wear red ones. Now I have a plaid overcoat that is so over-the-top pink that Dimples would prefer I not wear it when we're going to be in public together.

3. I loathe mayonnaise.

2. I won an honorable mention in a "patriotic slogan" contest in high school sponsored by Knott's Berry Farm and Carl's Jr. I had to, er, got to have my picture taken with Carl Karcher. And now I can't remember what that slogan was, except that it was quite tongue-in-cheek.

1. I'm a video game addict. I saved my allowance for months to buy an original Nintendo so I could master Super Mario Bros. and the Legend of Zelda. Oblivion comes out for Xbox 360 in February and I am CHOMPING AT THE BIT, people.

Anyone who wants to bare their secrets -- now's your chance! Consider yourself tagged.

Thanks to Wikipedia for the pictures.

A Bit Delicate

2006-01-23T19:02:00.000-05:00

...which is how I was feeling Sunday morning.

Since I'm trying to lose some excess BNA-age before my friend's wedding in March, I haven't been drinking much lately. I had been in the comfortable habit of 3-4 glasses of red wine a week, and I look forward to returning to that civilized pattern, but for now, those are calories that are relatively easy to cut. Particularly since Dimples doesn't drink at home. (He does eat pizza at home -- frequently -- and so that has been significantly harder to whittle away.)

So when I indulged in three glasses of wine Saturday night at a birthday party, I fully expected to well within my range. But I guess I've lost more capacity than I would have predicted, because Sunday morning brought that edgy, irritable, vaguely queasy feeling. Not a bad hangover, but not a good one either.

And really, because of three glasses of wine? How embarrassing.

So I made this broth, which is both soothing in the preparation (the rhythmic peeling of garlic) and the consumption (the rhythmic slurping of garlic). As I've said before, I'm a big fan of the "whatever works" school of thought. Scientifically speaking, hangover cures may not be worth much, but this one works for me.

Plus, it's got so much garlic in it that you need never fear vampires again.

Herb and Garlic Broth
Adapted from Deborah Madison's Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone

2 heads fresh garlic
1 T. olive oil
1 T. tomato paste
2 bay leaves
10 white peppercorns
2 whole cloves
6 large sage leaves
6 thyme sprigs
10 Italian parsley sprigs
2 tsp. salt

Separate all the garlic cloves and smash and peel them.

In a large pot with a lid, heat the oil on medium heat. Add the tomato paste and cook for a minute, then add the garlic, herbs, and salt, plus 2 quarts water. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer, partially covered, 45 minutes. Strain.

Drink out of a big mug while wearing slippers.

WCB #33

2006-01-21T09:56:00.000-05:00

...and I guess now we know why cats can see in the dark.

Max is the sweetest, most docile of kittens -- unless you mess with either of his two favorite things, which are a certain purple mousie (sadly battered and gnawed almost to a nub) and, inexplicably...

...carrots.

Be sure to visit all the other kitties over at Clare's!

La La La La -- Lemon

2006-01-19T21:15:00.000-05:00

Anyone remember the Ernie and Bert "La La La" song? LA LA LA -- LINOLEUM!

Ahem.

So anyway, Sunday is the Patient Co-Worker's birthday, which means tomorrow we bring little treats for office snacking. I'm bringing these:

Not too sweet, these pack a lemony almondy punch. They're a good choice when you want to offer something that can bridge the gap between breakfast and dessert. The ricotta gives them a moist, fairly dense texture.

Lemon Ricotta Muffins
Adapted from Giada de Laurentiis

Makes 12.

2 c. all-purpose unbleached flour
0.5 tsp. baking powder
0.5 tsp. baking soda
0.5 tsp. salt
1 c. plus 1 tsp. granulated sugar
0.5 c. unsalted butter, brought to room temperature
zest from two lemons, finely grated
1 c. ricotta cheese (whole or part-skim, your choice), brought to room temperature
1 egg, brought to room temperature
1 T. fresh lemon juice
1 tsp. almond extract
0.3 c. sliced almonds

Line 12 muffin cups with liners and heat the oven to 350 degrees.

In a medium bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt with a whisk. (I will confess that I love mixing dry ingredients with a whisk. Don't you?)

In another bowl, use a mixer to beat 1 c. sugar, the butter, and the zest until fluffy. Beat in the ricotta, and then the egg, lemon juice, and almond extract.

Add the dry ingredients and beat together. The batter will be quite fluffy and you won't be able to pour it, so use a measuring cup to dollop it into the muffin pan. Sprinkle almonds over the top of each cup, and then shake over a little extra sugar.

Bake until the muffins turn a pale golden color and lose that sticky look, about 20 minutes. Yummy warm or cool.

Notes:
* I upped the almond extract, but if you're not nuts about almonds -- perish the thought -- decrease it to 0.5 tsp.
* You like that Tab can in the background? I thought that stuff was extinct until last week!

In Which I Confront the Steamer

2006-01-18T20:29:00.000-05:00

Howdy! So the bachelorette party was wonderful fun, as evidenced by how long it's taken me to get back to PBPO. Here was my contribution to the weekend (along with my co-conspirator, JWA):

Giada's Butternut Squash Lasagna -- vegetarian, decadent, and excellent for soaking up copious quantities of red wine. I added extra cheese and torn basil to the top, but other than that, her recipe was fantastic as-is. This was VERY enthusiastically received.

But being gone all weekend meant that a plethora of veggies and herbs were abandoned in the refrigerator. And they were looking a bit stricken yesterday, so I took most of them -- extra butternut squash, green beans, cilantro, ginger, onions, garlic, most of a carton of mushrooms, half a can of whole tomatoes -- and added them to a pot of red lentils along with cayenne, turmeric, cumin, and lots of vegetable stock. Instant lunches for, oh, about the next year and a half (I'm incapable of not making the entire bag of lentils). And vegan, as it happens.

But the whole head of cauliflower lurking in the left vegetable drawer wasn't invited to the party. Not that I don't like cauliflower; I do. But I don't much like adding it raw to the ad hoc soup -- it cooks unevenly in the broth and, seriously, a mouthful of raw cauliflower? EW.

I knew I had to cook the darn thing tonight...and that meant I had to get out the steamer.

My fear of the steamer may seem irrational to you, but that's because you haven't met the thing. It's cranky. It slides, it slips, it explodes up out of the pot, it collapses down into the water. I should buy a new one, obviously. But I'm a little afraid to get rid of it -- what if it vows revenge? And if any cooking implement were to plot vengeance, believe me, it'd be this cranky critter.

But anyway. I needed my broiler for the pseudo-tandoori chicken, thus: steamer for cauliflower.

I'm glad to report that only one finger was scalded in the steaming of this cauliflower. That's actually a damn fine statistic.

Cauliflower with Tomato-Curry Sauce
Adapted from the Weight Watchers New Complete Cookbook

Serves 4.

1 tsp. olive oil
1 med. yellow onion, finely chopped
2 tsp. grated peeled ginger
2 tsp. hot curry powder (I like Penzey's if there's no time to make my own)
0.5 tsp. ground cumin
1 c. canned tomato puree
1 lb. cauliflower florets, steamed

Heat the oil in a large skillet. Saute the onion and ginger until the onion turns translucent, about 5 minutes. Sprinkle the spices over the mixture and mix over the heat for another minute or so.

Stir in the tomato puree and 0.5 c. water. Turn the heat down to a simmer and cover the pan; let it bubble away for fifteen minutes or so to thicken.

When it's done, pour the sauce over the steamed cauliflower in a serving bowl.

Notes:
* The recipe calls for pureeing the sauce, but I don't see the point; just mince the onion finely.
* One point per serving. Nice!

Two for One

2006-01-13T15:25:00.000-05:00

Nothing like a Friday afternoon counting down to a three-day weekend...and particularly this one, because I cannot wait for the weekend to actually get here! I'm jetting off to California for a fabulous weekend bachelorette party, so I'm getting pretty impatient here for the clock to hit five.

So in the meantime, I'll do some memeing! (Is that a verb?) Thanks to Kalyn and Jaay for tagging me for two more memes -- I'm a huge fan of the phenomenon. Let's see what we've got here.

Me in Fours

4 Jobs I've Had
1. lowly Blockbuster Video clerk. Ah, the joys of alphabetizing.
2. civil procedure teaching assistant.
3. LSAT instructor. Now that was a fun one.
4. resident advisor.

4 Movies I Watch Over and Over
1. The Princess Bride. Devorit and I even have the sound effects in the swordfighting scenes memorized.
2. The Shawshank Redemption.
3. The Lord of the Rings trilogy. Yep, I'm sneaking in three for one here. Shhh.
4. Pride and Prejudice -- the BBC version with Colin Firth. Best movie ever.

4 Places I've Lived
1. Los Angeles, CA.
2. New York, NY.
3. San Francisco, CA.
4. Cambridge, England.

4 Websites I Check Daily
1. Tomato Nation. I can't live without it.
2. Go Fug Yourself. The Patient Co-Worker and I discuss this all the time.
3. Television Without Pity. Best work distraction.
4. All your food blogs. Really. Now you understand why I never get anything done...

4 TV Shows I Love
1. CSI:, but only the original. Miami and New York are dead to me.
2. Law and Order, but again, original only. No Criminal Intent! No SVU!
3. Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Don't mock it if you haven't seen it -- I mean, c'mon! There was a musical!
4. The Amazing Race. Except last season was dreadful.

4 of My Favorite Foods
1. Thin, charred-on-the-bottom NY pizza, covered in an absolute blizzard of crushed red pepper.
2. Salmon and avocado rolls with lots of wasabi.
3. Spaghetti carbonara.
4. Jalapeno artichoke dip with extra parmesan.

4 Albums I Can't Live Without
1. Violator by Depeche Mode.
2. Fumbling Towards Ecstasy by Sarah McLachlan.
3. Little Lights by Kate Rusby.
4. 1980-1990 by U2.

4 Places I'd Rather Be
1. York Minster, England.
2. Anywhere in Italy. Geez, I really need to get there.
3. Babbo.
4. Yosemite.

7 Meme

7 Things to Do Before I Die
1. Run a 5k (hey, realism is good).
2. Bake a souffle.
3. Figure out how to do accent marks in Blogger (see above).
4. Spend serious time in Italy and the south of France.
5. Finish that novel.
6. Cook at least three recipes out of all of my cookbooks.
7. Learn to do a backbend.

7 Things I Cannot Do
1. Fry an egg without breaking the yolk.
2. Make Nigella's brownie recipe and have it come out edible.
3. Let go of a grudge. Sad but true.
4. Eat a raw tomato. Or anything it's touched.
5. Go through a week without stubbing a toe.
6. Get over my fear of sharks.
7. Allow my shoes to become unorganized or, heaven forbid, my closet OUT OF RAINBOW ORDER.

7 Things That Attract Me to Blogging
1. The cool stuff I'd never find out about otherwise.
2. The thrill when someone posts a comment on PBPO.
3. The gentle pressure to actually post.
4. The writing practice.
5. It challenges me to cook new things and to push my limits.
6. Weekend Cat Blogging.
7. Memes!

7 Things I Say Most Often
1. Babe, could you put your clothes away?
2. Widget, GET DOWN FROM THERE.
3. Awwww, Max. What a good kitty.
4. Ohhhhhkay.
5. You have GOT to be kidding me.
6. Meh, I'm not a fan.
7. "Fewer," not "less."

7 Books I Love
1. The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkein
2. A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin
3. In Cold Blood by Truman Capote
4. anything by Lois McMaster Bujold
5. anything by Elizabeth George
6. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
7. An Instance of the Fingerpost by...can't recall...Iain something?

7 Movies I Could Watch Over and Over
(see above)
5. Disney's Robin Hood
6. Raiders of the Lost Ark
7. Dangerous Beauty

People to Tag
I sorta dawdled, so at this point these memes have made the rounds...by all means, play if you'd like to!

Eat Your Greens

2006-01-12T14:55:00.000-05:00

This is a simple, soothing pasta dish for when you have some greens in your refrigerator that are starting to give you that "dude, what's the problem?" look. Makes for a good lunch at work, too -- although I find it benefits from a vigorous shake of cayenne when it's on its second incarnation.

I used to throw together a version of this with just greens, pasta, and parmesan, for which you hardly need a recipe. You don't really need a recipe for this version either, but the sauteed onion and garlic gives it more backbone.

Peasant Pasta
Adapted from the Weight Watchers New Complete Cookbook

Serves 4.

4 tsp. extra virgin olive oil
2 med. yellow onions, chopped
2 garlic cloves, chopped
0.5 c. chicken or vegetable broth
10 oz. spinach, coarsely chopped
2 c. coarsely chopped Swiss chard
salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 c. uncooked pasta of your favorite roundish, bite-sized shape
0.5 tsp. fresh lemon juice, optional
crushed red pepper, optional

Heat the oil in a skillet, then saute the onions and garlic until soft and golden brown. Add the broth and cook until it's mostly evaporated, about a minute or so.

Meanwhile, steam the spinach and chard together until tender, about six minutes. Remove from the steamer and squeeze out any excess water.

Meanwhile x2, cook the pasta you're using in plenty of boiling salted water. Drain when it's a skosh shy of al dente.

Stir the greens into the onion mixture and season to taste with salt and black pepper. Heat, stirring frequently, for another minute or so.

Add the pasta to the skillet with the onions and greens and toss to mix. Serve, sprinkling with a little lemon juice and/or red pepper.

Notes:
* 5 Weight Watchers Points per serving.

Cinnamon Basil Chicken

2006-01-11T20:25:00.000-05:00

As I've said, I love basil and warm spices, so when I saw a recipe putting them together...well. This was going to be a good one.

But I didn't realize just how good it was going to be. Really, even if this sounds a little odd to you, please give it a try. The cinnamon and star anise infuse the chicken and tomato sauce with a wonderful, semisweet savoriness. Then the basil sweeps in at the end to kick everything up a notch. Dreamy.

This is so good, in fact, that I've saved the leftover sauce for mixing with rice or pasta. I can't bear to throw it away!

This is from a wonderful cookbook by Jerry Traunfeld of The Herbfarm Restaurant. Highly recommended -- the pictures are gorgeous, the tips are helpful, and the recipes send you straight to the farmers' market for fistfuls of herbs.

Cinnamon Basil Chicken
Adapted from Jerry Traunfeld's The Herbal Kitchen

Serves 4.

6-8 pieces of bone-in chicken (I like legs best)
salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 T. olive oil
1 lg. yellow onion, sliced into half-moons
2-3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1.5 T finely chopped fresh ginger
1 28 oz. can crushed tomatoes, drained of half the liquid
3 three-inch cinnamon sticks
3 star anise pods
1.5 c. torn sweet basil or cinnamon basil, if you can find it

Heat the olive oil in a rather large skillet with a lid on medium-high heat. Season the chicken pieces with salt and pepper, then add to the skillet. Cook, uncovered, until the skin turns a lovely deep golden brown, then flip and cook on the other side for a few minutes more. Remove the chicken and set it aside.

Reduce the heat to medium and add the onion, garlic, and ginger. Cook for about three minutes, stirring frequently, until softened and beginning to brown. Pour in the tomatoes and stir to mix. Drop in the cinnamon sticks and anise pods, then stir in 1 tsp. salt. Return the chicken to the pan and wait for the mixture to come to a simmer. Cover the pan, turn the heat to low, and cook for about 50 minutes, or until the chicken doesn't resist when you poke it with a knife.

At this point, if the sauce is watery, remove the chicken and boil the sauce, uncovered, until it's the consistency you like. At that point, return the chicken to the pan and add the basil, all at once with a grand flourish, and toss to mix. Devour.

Notes:
* I couldn't find cinnamon basil this time of year, and sweet basil worked just fine.
* I forgot to drain half the liquid from the tomatoes, but no problem -- the sauce reduction step works well.
* I served the chicken with roasted asparagus and a basic green salad -- yum.
* I calculate the Weight Watchers Points for one serving of sauce at 2.5 points. Then add points for however much chicken you eat.

ARF/5-A-Day Tuesday #2: Tortilla Soup

2006-01-09T22:34:00.000-05:00

After all that drama with the timbale, I needed some low-key kitchen puttering to regain my confidence. And, as it happened, I also needed to finish -- okay, start and finish -- the book assignment for my new book club. This, of course, meant that Sunday was going to be soup day.

I love making a soup from stock to completion in one lazy day. As you all know, there's something quite soothing and fulfilling about starting with a refrigerator drawer of veggies and ending with a simmering pot. I almost always make vegetarian soups, partly because Deborah Madison was my first soup instructor and partly because I rarely have extra meat on hand.

So, Sunday was Tortilla Soup day. This is really a magnificent soup, and with all the toppings, it's got a pleasing ceremonial quality to it. Making the Red Stock is almost more fun than making the soup itself. And your kitchen will smell wonderful!

I guess this doesn't make it high on the Antioxidant-Rich Food list, but it does have veggies -- so I'm making it my contribution to Sweetnicks's ARF/5-A-Day Tuesday collection. Head on over and check out the other recipes!

Tortilla Soup
Adapted from Deborah Madison's Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone

Serves 4.

For the Red Stock:

1.5 T. olive oil
2 med. yellow onions, sliced
2 celery ribs, diced
2 carrots, chopped
5 white or cremini mushrooms, sliced
1 tsp. dried oregano
1/2 tsp. dried thyme
2 T. tomato paste
6 garlic cloves
6 outer leaf lettuce leaves
stems from 1 bunch cilantro
1/2 c. coarsely chopped Italian parsley
2 tsp. salt
2 quarts water

Heat the oil in a soup pot on medium-high heat. Tip in the onions, celery, carrots, mushrooms, and dried herbs. Cook, stirring from time to time and breathing deep, because it will smell so, so good, until the onions are quite limp and starting to brown, about 10 minutes. Add the tomato paste and stir, then add the remaining ingredients and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to a simmer and cover the pot halfway. Simmer for 45 minutes, then strain. You should have about 6 cups.

For the Soup:

6 c. Red Stock
2-3 T. olive oil
1.5 medium or 2 small yellow onions, sliced into 0.5" rounds
4 large garlic cloves, unpeeled
2-3 jalapeno chiles
2 c. canned tomato sauce or 2.5 lb. fresh Roma tomatoes
1 tsp. pureed chipotle chile (optional)
salt

Heat your broiler. Brush about half the oil over the onions, chiles, garlic, and tomatoes. Put them on a foil-lined baking sheet and broil 4-5 inches away from the heat. Turn each vegetable as it browns, and don't worry if the tomatoes and chiles blister -- that's exactly what you want. Remove each vegetable as it finishes browning (peel the garlic cloves). Toss everything in a blender and puree. (If you're using the tomato sauce instead of fresh tomatoes, add 1/2 c. water to the blender with the vegetables.)

Heat the rest of the oil in a large soup pot over medium-high heat. Add the puree and cook, stirring, until it thickens a bit, about 3-5 minutes. Add the Red Stock and simmer, covered, for 25 minutes. Stir in the chipotle if you're using it, and taste for salt. (I rarely add any.) You could strain the soup at this point, but the texture is more satisfying if you don't.

For the Toppings:

2 pasilla chiles, stemmed and seeded
1/4 - 1/2 chopped cilantro
1 avocado, diced
tortilla strips, fried, baked, or plain as you like
crumbled queso fresco or feta
1 lime, quartered

All of these are optional, but I especially think you need the avocado and queso fresco, particularly if you've boosted the heat with an extra chile or two. Toasting the chiles is easy -- heat a heavy skillet over medium heat and toss the chiles in. Press down on them so they sizzle and blister in spots. Be careful not to burn them. When cool, tear them to bits.

Add whatever toppings you like to your bowls at the table. Oh, but the lime is for squeezing over the top.

Notes:
* Using 3 chiles makes this soup quite spicy. I recommend using 2 the first time you make it.
* While the vegetables broil, the vapors can get pretty thick. You may want to crack a window.
* Dimples prefers to add cheddar cheese because he doesn't care for feta or queso fresco. I like queso fresco best, but I couldn't find it at the local store, so feta was just fine.
* Dimples likes rice in soup, so I make a batch of basic rice and he stirs in a cup or so.
* You could add shredded roasted chicken to boost the protein.
* I calculate the soup itself at 2.5 Weight Watchers Points per serving, before toppings.

Crushing Disappointment

2006-01-06T12:26:00.000-05:00

The symptoms were so familiar -- the wistful sighs, the increasingly-elaborate daydreams, the corresponding decline in work productivity. How could I concentrate on copyright infringement when I simply had to Google my beloved's name one more time? (You never know! There might be new information out there...in the last ten minutes...oh hush.) Past companions dwindled and retreated in comparison to my new, glowingly perfect love.

Oh yes, I was caught in the throes of a new food crush.

And it was a bad one. I've been minorly obsessed with Italian and Italian-American food for a while now, but not even my mom's eternally perfect spaghetti sauce could tempt me during my fascination with the pasta timbale. (Or timpano, or timbalo. I have seen all sorts of variations -- if someone has a definitive definition, lemme know.) Layers of pasta and sauce and meatballs and more sauce and different pasta and yet more sauce? All baked together into a glorious gooey dome?

Yes, please.

So I persuaded Devorit that we should make some version of my crush for Christmas dinner. Historically, my family has never made a big deal out of the final meal of the day on December 25th -- no turkey, no ham, no goose. Actually, dinner's usually spaghetti, because we love it and it's, obviously, not too difficult after the exhaustion of the day.

But this year we would try something different. And I was starry-eyed over that timbale for a solid week. The elaborateness of it captured my heart -- layer after painstaking layer, we would assemble a masterpiece.

So much excitement on Christmas day! We had made up a double batch of tomato sauce the day before, in between assembling the traditional Christmas Eve soups (more on those later), so that step was out of the way. Devorit printed out our recipe...we started to read, breath caught, pulses high.

I'm sure you can see where this is going.

The recipe had some strange quirks, we agreed. It seemed to call for an awful lot of Arborio rice (6 cups uncooked). And the instructions about cheese were inconsistent -- the ingredient list included pecorino romano, parmesan, and caciocavallo, but the instructions periodically referred simply to "cheese," with no clear antecedent. Nor did the volumes add up. At various points, we were instructed to add 1 cup of sauce, half the sauce, the remaining sauce, two-thirds of the sauce, and the remaining sauce once more. A puzzlement.

We forged ahead anyway. I was confident we could pull it off -- and I'd dreamed of this dish for so long!

This was a mistake.

Actually, it wasn't that bad. 6 cups of Arborio rice did indeed cook up to an unholy vat of fluffy starch, one that soaked up all the sauce we could fling in its direction. At one point, Devorit was up to her biceps in rice, mixing with both hands, because believe me, no spoon in the kitchen was going to move that mass. We'd luckily doubled the tomato sauce, so there was enough to go around -- barely -- and we guessed at the cheese component as best we could.

About a gadzillion sticky hours later, the timbale emerged from the oven in a sultry cloud of fragrance. Fraught with anticipation, we sliced, served, spooned...and it was devastating. My food crush was just okay. Nothing special. Neutrally pleasant, I guess. Sort of something I can imagine being served in a mediocre cafeteria, with a square of plain red Jell-o and a side of nearly-limp green beans.

(I haven't included the recipe here, both because it's rather untrustworthy and because I can't recommend that you invest the time.)

I'm a big girl; I know crushes don't always work out. But I thought we'd be together for the long haul, timbale and I, and I'm just a little sad about the end of our relationship.

But, psst. I think I've got a crush on cioppino now.

Random Thursday Thought

2006-01-05T15:52:00.000-05:00

Am I the only one who loves the clementine crates almost as much as their contents?

Knitting organizer! Mini spice box! Lipstick holder! (Ok, I have too many lipsticks.)

Note to self: three cups of tea, okay. Five cups and you start to babble.

Musselbound

2006-01-04T19:35:00.000-05:00

...now that I've typed it, I don't think that title really makes sense, but -- why not.

So I've realized that I really, really need to dig up the directions for my digital camera and acquire some skills. I have no illusions that my petite Canon is the ultimate in shutterbug circles, but it is surely capable of better work than this:

This picture doesn't begin to do justice to the glory of these black beauties -- the briny sweetness, the garlicky buttery broth spiked with parsley sparkles. And if you can believe it, this picture was the best of the lot! And what a shame, because I want you to try these. Not only are they incredibly delicious, they are possibly the easiest seafood dish I've ever made. I do not kid.

According to the Weight Watchers website, a serving of these is 5 points. I will note for the record, though, that you really ought to have slices of grilled or toasted bread on hand for soaking up the juices.

Moules Mariniere
Adapted from Nigella Lawson's How to Eat

4 lb mussels, scrubbed and debearded
4 T. unsalted butter
2 shallots, minced
2-3 garlic cloves, minced
4 T. chopped Italian parsley
1 1/4 c. dry white wine

Double check your mussels and chuck those with cracked shells or that gape unbecomingly.

On medium heat, in a big ol' pot with a lid, melt the butter. Add the shallots and garlic and 1 T. parsley, and stir it around into the butter for a minute or so. Add the wine and cook another minute. Add the mussels, turn the heat to high, and cover the pot. Check in three minutes and remove all the open mussels (I like to use tongs) to your bowls. Put the lid back on and give them another two minutes or so. Turn off the heat. Take out the rest of the open mussels for your bowls, and discard any that failed to open.

Let the broth settle, then pour it carefully over the bowls. The goal here is to leave any sediment in the pot. Sprinkle over the remaining parsley, take your bowls to a cat-safe area, and scarf them down. Serves two.

Notes:
* Next time I would slice the garlic thinly, rather than mince it. Some of the shells practically filled up with bits of minced garlic.

The Year of the Cuppa

2006-01-03T15:23:00.000-05:00

As I slog through my staggeringly full inbox here at work, I've been stealing quick peeks at heaps of food blogs to see what you've all been up to over the last few weeks. I've missed you so! I'm not nearly done catching up (some of you have been very productive), and it's wonderful. Like curling up for an evening under a fuzzy blanket with a stack of magazines, a mug of spiked hot chocolate, and a kitten or two. Nice.

Many bloggers have posted lists of their goals or resolutions for 2006, and, inspired, I wanted to get two of my own out there as a means of accountability. I'm a big fan of the "whatever works" school of self-deception/encouragement. You know, like setting my alarm clock fifteen minutes fast even though I know perfectly well that when the buzzer explodes at 6:30, it's really 6:15. As I say -- whatever works.

First, a cliche. I'm buckling down and getting serious about losing some weight. A very dear friend is getting married mid-March, and the bridesmaid dresses are truly lovely -- and fitted. Not to mention that I swore when I cleared 30 that I would actually start eating those exasperating five servings of produce a day. So! The time is right, I've armed myself with a cute notepad and sassy pen for keeping track of what I'm eating (...whatever works), and I'm off to the races. Well, the treadmill, anyway.

And so I'll be cooking mostly Weight Watchers and other similar recipes for the next chunk of time. I'll post the good recipes here for others in the same boat. Last night I made a reputedly "Savory Lamb Stew" out of a Weight Watchers cookbook, but -- meh. Not bad, but not interesting. Certainly not worth a second batch.

And second, I have resolved to drink more tea. Not for antioxidants, or as a coffee substitute, or any other typical reason. No, this is simply because I have collected more kinds of tea since moving to New York than I would have thought humanly possible. I must have thirty blends now, and really -- that's absurd. Utterly. (And it's only been seven months, people.) They're all keepers, too, so I don't want to do the hand-them-off-to-friends thing. And after all, I like tea.

But now I'm getting serious. I've banned myself from the Adagio website, I resolutely avoid the tea aisle, I brew three cups a day. In fact, it's time for another. I think...Wild Blueberry Fair Trade Certified. Just the thing.

And now back to the blog splurge!

Happy 2006!

2006-01-03T09:54:00.000-05:00

We're back! I'm proud to report that I do still remember how to navigate LA freeways. As well as I ever did, anyway, which may not be saying much. Updates on the cooking adventures once I dig my camera out of my suitcase.

Not a White Christmas, But...

2005-12-21T16:13:00.000-05:00

...it'll still be good to be back in California. We're leaving Friday for my parents' house -- apparently it's seventy degrees there today. Quite a difference from twenty degrees here, but I will say this -- the prospect of shorts-weather for Christmas seems a little strange this year. Maybe I'm a real New Yorker now.

Anyway, I'm not cooking this week because we have no groceries and don't want to go to the store before we leave. So we're indulging in the glories of takeout! But Devorit and I have some seriously good menus planned, so I'll keep you updated on those as we concoct them. The goal for the holiday is to prevent Mom from cooking so much as a side dish. We may have to tie her to a chair to accomplish this, but I'm not afraid to get stern when necessary.

So many things I'm looking forward to in California -- family and friends, of course, but also salt breezes, Trader Joe's (I'm bringing a separate suitcase for TJ goodies. I'm totally not kidding), Baja Fresh, and...ok, I'm just going to come out and say it. I am and have always been completely in love with Del Taco. When I was little, Mom, Devorit, and I would order breakfast burritos at dawn and eat them on the beach. When I moved to San Francisco from LA, I moped for YEARS until they opened a Del Taco on Market Street. And then I moved across the country!! So yes, we're making lamb chops and timbale and tortilla soup and hordes of other wonderful things, and I will eat myself silly...but you'll still see me at Del Taco at least twice. Some traditions you just don't mess with.

Happy holidays, one and all!

WCB 28

2005-12-17T09:37:00.000-05:00

So I thought I'd be all industrious this morning and simmer up a batch of basic tomato sauce as part of Project Clean Out the Fridge Before Jetting Off to California for Week of Joyous Feasting and Frivolity (Project COFBJOCWJFF). But when I hauled out my trusty 6-qt saucepot, I was mightily puzzled. The rim was rather markedly dented. Enough that the lid will no longer fit.

Now, I just used that darn pot to make the meatballs, and the lid fit just fine then. And I was here when Dimples washed the pot that night and left it on the stovetop to dry, and I didn't hear any suspicious noises (bangs, crashes, "Oops").

There are four of us in this apartment...so I went to confront the other two.

Here's how I found Max. He won't even look me in the eye.

And here's how I found Widget. Tell me that's not a look of artful innocence.

They know we're heading west, they're not happy about it, and they've started taking their vengeance a little early.

Head on over to Clare's to see the other kitties, all of which I hope are better behaved than mine.

Holiday Cookie Exchange #1 -- Part 3

2005-12-15T18:33:00.000-05:00

Third installment, but the first for me. Dawn at So Cal Foodie is hosting, and her suggestion is for something simple. Excellent notion. I don't have a famous four-ingredient cookie like she suggests, but I do have these tasty morsels, and they're pretty straightforward. And they're even seasonal, although I'll be forthright and tell you that I make them all year long. (I also listen to the Nutcracker all year long, and I am unrepentant.)

It's no secret that I love ginger, and these cookies pack a spicy punch. They're also soft and toothsome, which is refreshing after all those crunchy gingersnaps. For an over the top touch, serve them with dishes of lemon curd for dipping.

Ginger Cookies

Makes 3 dozen.

4 c. flour (preferably King Arthur)
1 c. granulated sugar
2 tsp. baking soda
2 1/2 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp. ground nutmeg
1 1/4 tsp. ground cinnamon
1 tsp. ground cloves
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 c. shortening (non-trans fat, if possible)
1 c. molasses
1 egg, beaten lightly
1/2 c. boiling water
extra sugar

Combine flour, sugar, soda, spices, and salt in a large bowl. In another bowl, mix together the shortening, molasses, and egg. Beat the wet ingredients into the dry, then add the boiling water. The dough will be so soft and sticky it will practically slump in the bowl. So, cover the bowl and pop it into the fridge for at least an hour.

Heat the oven to 400 and pour some extra granulated sugar into a small bowl. Roll the chilled dough into balls, about an inch across. Roll the balls in the extra sugar and arrange them 2" apart on ungreased baking sheets. (Be sure they're light baking sheets -- dark ones will cook the bottoms of these cookies too quickly.) Shove the bowl back into the fridge if the dough becomes mutinously soft while you're working. Bake about 12 minutes or until the cookies puff slightly and crack charmingly across the top. (The centers will still be soft. This is a good thing.) Transfer to racks and cool.

Meatball Montage

2005-12-14T21:21:00.000-05:00

I had an entire post written about this dish -- how it's a combination of recipes from Mario Batali (the sauce) and Giada de Laurentiis (the meatballs), and how I'm starting to wonder if I have some kind of weakness for Food Network stars with Italian-themed shows. And then Blogger ate it. And now my happy meatball mood is in danger of vanishing in a burst of Blogger irritation.

And that would be a shame, because these are really pretty darn good meatballs. So here's the recipe, and just imagine that it appears here after a droll analysis of my obsession.

Turkey Meatballs in Tomato Sauce
Adapted from Mario Batali and Giada de Laurentiis

Serves 4, more or less.

1/4 c. plain dried bread crumbs
1/4 c. chopped Italian parsley
2 large eggs, beaten
2 T. milk (not skim)
3/4 c. grated pecorino romano, divided
3/4 tsp. salt
3/4 tsp. pepper
ground oregano or marjoram
1 lb. ground turkey
1/4 c. olive oil
5 c. tomato sauce (see recipe below)
1 lb. long pasta

Add the milk, salt, and pepper to the beaten eggs. Stir together the bread crumbs, parsley, and 1/2 c. cheese. Add the milk mixture and toss together, then add a few shakes of the oregano or marjoram and mix well. Add the turkey and mix together gently in as few motions as you can manage.

Put your salted pasta water on to boil. Cook the pasta as you work on the next meatball steps, stopping when it's about thirty seconds away from al dente.

Shape the meat mixture into bite-sized balls.

In a large skillet or pan, heat the oil on medium-high. Add the meatballs to the pan in batches, taking care not to overcrowd the pan. You're looking for a golden-brown, seared crust on these little guys, so cook them on each side for about three minutes without turning or jostling them about as they sizzle.

When all the meatballs are done, remove them while you pour off any excess oil. Return the meatballs to the pan and add the tomato sauce, stirring gently to coat all the meatballs. Bring the sauce to a boil, then lower the heat to simmer for about five minutes until everything's heated through.

Add the cooked pasta to the sauce and stir to coat. Sprinkle with remaining romano.

Tomato Sauce

Yields about 4 cups, so you'll need some extra for the meatball recipe.

1/4 c. extra-virgin olive oil
1 yellow onion, finely diced
4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
3 T. chopped fresh thyme
1/2 med. carrot, shredded
2 28-oz cans crushed tomatoes
salt and pepper

Heat the olive oil in a saucepan over medium heat. Add the onion and garlic together and cook, stirring occasionally, until they're soft and palest brown, about 8-10 minutes. Add the thyme and carrot and cook until the carrot is starting to think about breaking apart, about 5 minutes.

Pour in the tomatoes and their juice and mix. Bring the pot to a boil, stirring frequently, then lower the heat. Simmer about 20 minutes, until it thickens to a consistency you like. Season with salt and pepper.

Freezes nicely.

Triple Threat

2005-12-12T20:57:00.000-05:00

These cookies showcase three star ingredients in crunchy gooey spicy glory. They're dangerous to have around if you're supposed to be saving your appetite for later. Worth it, though!

Peanut, Chocolate, and Cinnamon Cookies
Adapted from Martha Stewart

2 c. all-purpose flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
3/4 tsp. ground cinnamon
3/4 c. unsalted butter, room temperature
1/2 c. smooth peanut butter
1 c. packed light brown sugar
1/2 c. sugar
2 eggs
1 1/2 c. semisweet chocolate chips
2/3 c. roasted, salted peanuts, coarsely chopped
2 tsp. vanilla extract

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Whisk together flour, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon and set aside. Add the butter and peanut butter to the bowl of your stand mixer, and mix on medium speed until you have a bowl of smooth golden goo, about two minutes. Add the sugars and mix for another two minutes on medium speed. Mix in the eggs.

Gradually add the flour mixture until it's all beaten in. Stir in the vanilla and then fold in the chocolate and peanuts. Refrigerate the dough for 15-20 minutes to make it easier to handle.

Roll the dough into 1" balls and distribute 2-3" apart on baking sheets lined with parchment paper or a Silpat. Bake until golden, about 13 minutes. Transfer cookies to rack to cool for as long as you can stand to wait.

Makes 4-5 dozen.

Notes:
* This makes a crispy cookie -- more of a chocolate chip cookie with peanut butter-flavored dough than a peanut butter cookie with chocolate chips.
* Increase the cinnamon if you'd like a more pronounced spice flavor.

You Are What You Eat...

2005-12-12T18:58:00.000-05:00

...heaven help me!

Thanks to the always marvelous Darla at Messy Cocina for tagging me with this meme, which asks you to list your ten favorite foods. As everyone's remarked with this task, it's pretty much impossible, but here's my version of the ol' college try. I want you to know that numerous pens were sacrificed in the making of this list (between the gnawing, the throwing in frustration, and the kitten-chasing).

I abandoned the idea of including actual dishes, in the interest of salvaging 2006 for other projects. And for sure I gave myself a break by eliminating beverages as contenders. (Don't hate me, teapot. We'll cuddle later.) So with those caveats, here's my much-edited list...

1. Berries. Forever my favorite fruits -- be they straw, blue, rasp, black, boysen, marion, logan, or goose. Without having the slightest idea whether I'm entitled to do so (in the biological sense), I include currants, black and red. And thimbleberries! I haven't had a thimbleberry since I was eight and on a hike through the California redwoods, but I've been yearning for that spicy sweet flavor ever since. (This is a picture of that elusive darling.) I eat blueberries every morning with...

2. Greek Yogurt. The thick and creamy texture leaves all theoretical competitors twenty-six miles behind. (Sure, I can deliver lame jokes with a straight face.) Drizzle honey or ginger syrup and chopped walnuts over a bowlful, and you have instant dessert!

3. Warm Spices. I'm kind of cheating here, I know (but wait, I'll get worse). I'm thinking here of ginger, cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, nutmeg, mace, allspice...those sometimes sweet, sometimes savory spices that liven up everything from cookies to carrots to casseroles. With alliterative abandon.

4. Parmigiano-Reggiano. The emperor of cheeses, no question. It demands your complete attention. To guarantee my utter silence -- should I be prattling on, which has been known to happen -- shut me up with a hunk of this cheese, a glass of wine, a drizzle of good balsalmic vinegar, and one or two paper-thin slices of...

5. Prosciutto di Parma. I periodically go vegetarian, and so far, what always brings me back to the dark side is this salty-sweet, tongue-curlingly delicious dry-cured Italian ham. I love it plain, always and often, and I can't really think of things that aren't improved by being wrapped in it.

6. Peanut Butter. You had to know this would put in an appearance! And yes, it really is fantastic on toasted bread with so-thin-they're-translucent purple onions.

7. Stuff Made from Cooked Tomatoes. Ok, this is weird, I know, but I didn't know how else to convey how much I adore tomato-based sauces and similar things. Spiked with oregano and garlic -- pizza sauce. Slow-braised with fennel and onion -- pasta sauce. Pureed with roasted chiles -- hot sauce. My requirement, though, is that the tomatoes have to be cooked. I may have given bottles of Heinz to Hunts-challenged friends as a kid (...what?), but you will never see me eating a raw tomato. (I couldn't find a good cooked tomato picture, alas.)

8. Basil. I'm starting to see an Italian theme that I hadn't really realized was there. Hmmm. Anyway, basil is my favorite herb -- bright, cheerful, the green essence of summer. I am cursed with the inability to grow it, though. Damn.

9. Oysters. I only just discovered that I love oysters about eight months ago, when I was my friend's "date" at a wedding caterer event. He got a kick out of introducing me to his wedding planner as his girlfriend; I was too busy slurping down sweet briny oysters to mind.

10. Chiles. There is no life without chiles. I have no more to say.

You knew that was an exaggeration, didn't you? I always have more to say. Let's see...I'm going to tag Julie at A Finger in Every Pie and Dawn at SoCal Foodie. Have fun!

And thanks to Wikipedia and Fage for the pictures, which I certainly do not claim as my own.

Weekend Cat Blogging #27

2005-12-11T17:48:00.000-05:00

Widget and Max are exhausted from the effort of being adorable all day long.

Be sure to go see all the other cute kitties at Clare's!

Insatiable Curiosity

2005-12-08T18:32:00.000-05:00

I've been fascinated by British food since I was a kid. So many of my favorite books described wonderfully strange dishes -- Turkish Delight, sticky toffee pudding, bangers and mash, treacle tart, Yorkshire pudding. I have to admit, my imagined versions were often extremely off-base. I maintain that it was perfectly reasonable to picture Yorkshire pudding as a kind of butterscotch souffle and Turkish Delight as coffee-infused caramel. Real Yorkshire pudding I like; my disappointment at tasting actual Turkish Delight, though, I will quite possibly never get over. (And it gives me even more reason to disapprove of Edmund's choices in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.)

So when I made my first Thanksgiving dinner this year, I knew I had to try my hand at bread sauce, yet another British standard I had never seen, much less tasted. I've been dying to try it for at least twenty years; I think it was part of a meal in one of E. Nesbit's books. All I knew was that it was a sauce for roast chicken or turkey, and that nutmeg played a part.

I have no idea if mine turned out as it ought, but wow, it was amazing -- velvety, comforting, rendolent with nutmeg, onion, and bay. Poured hot over turkey, stuffing, and mashed potatoes, it brought everything gorgeously together. And spread on rye bread, it destroyed any possibility of my ever putting mayonnaise on a turkey sandwich.

Try it the next time you roast a bird -- you'll like it. Now if only I could find a recipe for the seed cakes that Bilbo offers Balin at that fateful Wednesday afternoon tea.

Bread Sauce
Adapted from Nigella Lawson's Feast

3 cups' worth of torn-into-cubes day-old white bread (sandwich is fine) -- no crusts
4 c. milk
1 onion
4 cloves
2 bay leaves
1 tsp. white peppercorns
heaped 1/4 tsp. ground mace
2 tsp. sea salt
2 T. butter
2 T. heavy cream, optional
fresh nutmeg

If your bread cubes are still feeling fresh and springy, spread them out for a few hours on a wire rack so they dry out a bit and aren't so pliable.

Pour the milk into a saucepan with a lid. Peel and quarter the onion, then impale each quarter with a clove. Drop the onion quarters into the milk and add the bay leaves, peppercorns, ground mace, and salt. Bring nearly to a boil.

Remove from heat, cover, and leave to infuse at least an hour.

Put the pan on low heat, add the bread cubes, and cook until they disintegrate into the milk. Strain. Just before serving, add the butter and cream, and stir to melt. Grate over more nutmeg.

Serve and swoon.

Notes:
* I forgot the butter and cream entirely and didn't miss them, but then again, I didn't know what to miss, so I include them here.
* I infused mine for about four hours.
* Nigella claims you need only 15 minutes over very low heat for the bread to fall apart in the sauce. Me, I needed 30 minutes at closer to medium, so experiment a bit. The bread will not completely dissolve (or at least mine didn't), so don't fret about that.
* I had a lovely photo of whole nutmegs that I swiped from Wikipedia, but Blogger is pretending that it doesn't understand me when I click the photo button. Pfah.

* Update: lo!

Relax

2005-12-07T20:18:00.000-05:00

I'll admit it: I'm a recipe person. I am not the person who rummages through the produce drawer and spice rack and tosses ingredients together at whim. I wish I were, really; I think I'd cook more often if I weren't constrained by the need for a reassuring 3x5 card telling me what to do. But it's not out of character when I reach for solace in instructions; I am, after all, the girl whose lists quite literally have lists. Cross-referenced lists. Which may or may not be color-coded. And, on one memorable occasion, flagged.

Hey, at least I know my quirks, right?

So even with this pasta -- a weeknight staple that I make all the time when neither Dimples nor I can muster the energy to choose a delivery option -- I reach for my recipe box. It's just about the easiest pasta sauce you can imagine. In fact, I'm sure all of us have a version of this up our various sleeves -- a simple, garlicky tomato sauce whipped together from pantry staples. I like this one because it's vegetarian and spicy, and because it uses pecorino romano, which gives it a tangy, salty kick.

I don't know what was different tonight, but I didn't realize until I was scooping the pasta into our bowls that I hadn't taken out the recipe. And I didn't miss it! Can you believe it? Maybe I'll become one of those instinctive cooks after all...well, probably not. But it's a step.

Pardon the lack of photos, but this is not a particularly photogenic recipe (ok, I tried, and failed) -- but it is just what I want on a chilly Wednesday night, when the prospect of going to the store is entirely dismaying.

Pantry Pasta

1 lb. pasta of choice (we prefer penne rigate; I'd avoid long pasta)
1 T. olive oil
2-3 cloves garlic, minced
1 1/2 tsp. crushed red pepper (reduce considerably if you prefer less heat)
1 28-oz can crushed tomatoes
1/2 c. dry white wine
1 to 1 1/2 c. freshly grated pecorino romano
handful chopped fresh basil, if you happen to have it on hand

Cook the pasta in boiling salted water until al dente.

While the water is heating, heat the olive oil over medium-high heat in a largish skillet. Add the garlic and red pepper and saute until the garlic is golden and you can really smell the pepper. Pour tomatoes and wine into the skillet, and cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until the sauce thickens.

Drain the pasta and return it to the cooking pot, reserving about half a cup of the pasta water. Add the sauce to the pasta and toss to coat. If the sauce is too thick, add some pasta water to thin it out. Add the grated cheese and stir well. Divide the pasta into bowls and sprinkle the basil over the top, if you are so inclined.

Ahem!

2005-12-02T11:41:00.000-05:00

I haven't confessed this before, but I may have a teeny-tiny, itty-bitty crush on Mario Batali. Hardly enough to speak of, honestly. Not much more than a mild admiration...he has a nice way with cardoons, okay?

And no, it was totally NOT appropriate for Dimples to ask our server at Otto last month if Mario would be in that night, and it was even LESS appropriate for him to jerk his chin at me and roll his eyes in a "chick crazy" way, and don't even get me started on the fight we had when he deleted -- DELETED! -- episodes of Molto Mario off the DVR. "Blah blah blah but you don't even like risotto blah." WHAT-ever.

But I am not a stalker. I swear.

But I am going to Otto again tonight!

Grrr

2005-11-30T12:32:00.000-05:00

Not sure why none of the pictures are working...I'll try to look into it tonight. And maybe even post a recipe. But first I have to survive a recruiting reception!

Stuffed

2005-11-21T10:33:00.000-05:00

I was sixteen the first time I attended a Thanksgiving meal outside my own home. For reasons I can't really remember, my high school sweetie and I decided we'd attempt to get through two versions of the feast -- lunch at his house, dinner at mine. Everything went fine, actually, but I'll never forget the horror that broke over me at the first bite of his mother's stuffing. It was light, flaky, nearly ethereal. It tasted of fresh bread, raw parsley, and sharp onions, and when spooned onto my plate, it fell easily into individual bits and pieces.

To me, it was all wrong. My dad's stuffing is a thing of beauty and wonder. It's a dense, almost sticky mixture, rich with sausage, apples, and sage, and the only ingredients an observer can immediately identify by sight are the chopped celery and whole olives. I mean, I assume there's bread in there, but I certainly can't point you to it. And this stuffing, which Dad mixes with intense concentration and both hands in an enormous aluminum roasting pan, is the absolute best part of Thanksgiving. Turkey is an afterthought at our house. The real glory of the feast is a stuffing sandwich, smeared with cranberry sauce and eaten surrepetiously in the den so as to avoid accusations of illicit stuffing pilfering.

I'm not going home for Thanksgiving this year -- too expensive, sadly. And I think the Parental Units and Devorit are going to go hiking instead anyway. So I'm venturing into the kitchen to cook my very first Thanksgiving meal, for just me and Dimples. When I was planning the menu, I had a hard time choosing a stuffing recipe. There was no question of trying to recreate Dad's; he doesn't really use a recipe, and I didn't want to make an attempt that fell depressingly short. It's like Mom's spaghetti sauce -- I can come close, but close just isn't good enough. So I have an all-new (to me) recipe, which I'm tentatively excited about. And gravy! That's a first for me too. (We never have gravy at my parents' house. I don't really know why. I don't miss it at all, but Dimples stared at me in appalled consternation when I suggested leaving it off our menu.)

I have high hopes for this recipe. But my secret plan is to ask Dad if we can mix up a batch of his stuffing, sans bird, at Christmas time. Because no year should end without it.

Gingerly

2005-11-17T10:40:00.000-05:00

I work near Chinatown and Little Italy, so there's an endless array of choices at lunchtime. Sad to say, in our three months so far, the Patient Co-Worker and I haven't ventured too far from the office yet. But we've resolved to overcome this pitiful laziness, and so yesterday we tried a new-to-us Vietnamese place. Delicious lemongrass chicken, with plenty of rice to soak up the creamy, spicy sauce. And, yes, I did reach for the sriracha...no surprise there.

Now, I usually have a very sturdy stomach, particularly with spicy foods. I mean, I abuse it regularly without complaint. But, alas, something about this lunch was met with disfavor. Not food poisoning, by any means, but I was not feeling my best.

When I arrived home, I headed straight for the anodyne in the refrigerator: ginger syrup. Mixed with sparkling water and fistfuls of ice, the dark syrup is transformed into a soothing draught that smoothed away my tummy's discontent within the hour. Perhaps it's psychosomatic; to be honest, I don't mind either way.

Don't save this for medicinal use alone -- it's also fantastic for hedonistic purposes. Such as drizzling over vanilla ice cream.

Ginger Syrup
Adapted from Vegetarian Times

1 c. brown sugar (I prefer dark, but light will do fine)
1/4 lb. fresh ginger root
1 cinnamon stick
2 pinches cayenne pepper (reduce if you prefer a less spicy syrup)

Slice the ginger root into thin coins. Place the slices, sugar, and cinnamon stick into a saucepan and pour in the water. Stir to dissolve the sugar, then bring the mixture to a boil. Simmer for about five minutes, then turn off the heat. Add the cayenne and stir. Let the mixture cool to room temperature.

Once it's cool, strain the liquid and refrigerate it, covered.

To make ginger ale, mix 1/4 c. syrup with 3/4 c. sparkling water, and pour over ice. (I personally insist on a straw, to make it last longer.)

Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

2005-11-11T11:34:00.000-05:00

I've been sideswiped by a brutal cold, so since I haven't been able to taste anything for almost two weeks, I haven't been doing much cooking. But I'm on the mend, and off to Vegas for a college friend's wedding this weekend -- and next week, back into the kitchen. And just in time! I need to plan my first Thanksgiving dinner!