How do you know you know you found THE ONE? Making two batches within a week, and finding ways to put it on everything you eat (other than ice cream and cake!) are very good indications. I am happy to say I found my one, the one sauce to rule them all. So happy, in fact, that I stopped working on another post I was writing just so I could let everyone know about this.
Generally speaking, I’m a very loyal person - when I find something or someone I like, it takes a lot for me to change my mind. So for many, many years now, my favorite sauce (condiment?) has been pesto. And while it will always hold a special place on my plate, things have kind of cooled off between us this summer. I had to talk myself into making a batch of pesto, and it was kind of under duress - the basil in my garden hit an insane growth spurt, and it was a use it or lose it kind of situation.
This new sauce, on the other hand? Like I said - I made two batches within a week and can’t seem to get enough of it. Maybe it’s all just the early stages of love - the infatuation period. Maybe this new sauce will not prove to be the one after all, maybe it will turn out to be just the fling that makes me appreciate pesto with renewed passion. Or maybe I’m not the one sauce kind of girl I always thought of myself as?! For now, I will continue to make this new green sauce and put it on everything and you might too once you try it. The recipe and some serving suggestions are after the jump.
This cilantro based sauce feels summery to me, but that could just be because it’s summer. Unlike pesto, which depends on well flavored basil and lots of it, which kind of limits its production to the summer months around NY, this new love of mine can be made fresh anytime you grab some fresh cilantro, which in NY tends to be abundantly available all year round.
The recipe below was adapted from this one on SeriousEats. That recipe is a lose interpretation of Peruvian Aji Amarillo sauce, as I understand it, but I’m not sure how close to authentic the below is, so I’m sticking to calling it Spicy Cilantro Sauce.
Spicy Cilantro Sauce
2 fresh jalapeños, seeds and ribs removed, roughly chopped
1 tablespoon aji Amarillo pasteÂ
1 bunch fresh cilantro, leaves and small stems only
2 tablespoons grated cotija cheeseÂ
1 medium clove garlic, minced (about 1 teaspoon)
1 tablespoon vegetable oil or olive oil (I used olive oil because that’s what I had)
1 teaspoon white vinegar
juice from 1/2 limeÂ
1/3 cup mayonnaise
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Place the jalapenos, aji paste, cilantro, garlic, cheese, oil, vinegar and lime juice in a blender and puree until relatively smooth. Add the mayonnaise and pulse a few times until it’s blended with the other ingredients. Taste and season with salt and pepper if needed. Enjoy on everything you can think of!
So far I have used this sauce on shrimp tacos (first picture in post), as a dip for plantain chips and tortilla chips, as a salad dressing (thinned out with a little more lime juice, on grilled corn, and in the other ways seen below. I think it would be great with grilled or roasted fish or chicken, in all sorts of salads, and stirred into guacamole.
You can use it for breakfast (or brunch),
for lunch (taking your avocado toast, and naturally your Instagram, to whole new levels!),
and for dinner!
Best of all, if you run out, it’s really easy and quick to make yourself another batch!
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Is that title a little loaded? I don’t mean for it to be, but it’s been on my mind lately. Maybe I’ve been watching too many shows about food. More likely, I find things related to cooking and food endlessly interesting. Plus, I have to eat every day, which most frequently means I have to cook, or at least assemble, my meals. Which means that I spend a lot of time thinking about food, and cooking. Not surprising then, that a few days ago while (shocker!) cooking, I thought: “I wish life was more like cooking.”
I am not a zen kind of cook, and most people that know me know that. So I am not here to say that I find cooking relaxing, or that cooking is how I destress. But, the kind of stress I experience in the kitchen is a good kind of stress, even if that’s not what it may look like to anyone else. It’s not the same kind of stress as when I’m running late to work, or when I’m wondering how I’ll pay a bill, or, the mother of all stress causing thoughts: “What am I doing with my life? Why do I still not know what I want to be when I grow up?”
The stress I experience in the kitchen is caused by one thought alone, and it’s always the same “I hope this ends up tasting good and doesn’t end up taking me six hours to make!” Funny enough, nine times out of ten, it does. Even when I don’t follow the recipe exactly, even when I switch one or two ingredients because I want to use what I have on hand or am too lazy to go searching, even when I let something boil a little too long or pull it off the stove a bit early, it usually turns out alright. And I can honestly say that nothing I have cooked has made me or anyone else sick, which I will now go ahead and pat myself on the back for, thank you very much. I guess, somewhere in the back of my head, even if I’m stressing over how long I’m taking and what the final product will taste like, I know it will be ok. I think some people somewhere call that confidence.
I guess that’s (possibly) why I started out this post wishing that life was more like cooking. What I was probably wishing for, really, is that I had the same confidence at life that I do at cooking. #goals And now the new question is, why don’t I? Because, in the end, cooking really is a lot like life. Hardly anyone follows an exact recipe all the time. Sometimes you have to, or want to, make adjustments and substitutions to suit your tastes or what’s available to you. Sometimes the recipe contains an error. Sometimes you follow the recipe to a dot and still end up with something meh, simply because your taste and that of the recipe’s author are not the same. And sometimes you improvise 100%, end up with something you love, only to fail to replicate it identically ever again. But in the end, much like cooking, life turns out ok. So why shouldn’t I have the same confidence at life as I do at cooking? I’ve actually had a longer experience at it. Probably not a question I’ll find an answer to by the time I’m done typing, but a good one to think about.
The salad recipe included in this post is what I was making when I wished life was more like cooking. It is 100% improvised, and it turned out amazing, at least by my taste.Â
The exact details and more pictures are after the jump.
Potato Salad
1 1/2 - 2 lbs yellow and red new potatoes, well scrubbed
5 - 6 cremini mushroom caps, sliced
1 large pickle, minced
1/2 serrano pepper, very thinly sliced
1 cup fresh lovage leaves, chopped
1 lemon, juiced
3 T extra virgin olive oil
salt
pepper
vegetable oil for fryingÂ
Place the scrubbed potatoes in a large stockpot, cover with cold water and season with a few pinches of salt. Bring to a boil and cook until potatoes are cooked through but not mushy - I test them by piercing one with a fork. They usually take about 7-10 minutes at a rolling boil to cook. Once cooked, drain in a colander and set aside.
Coat the bottom of a large skillet or frying pan with a thin layer of vegetable oil and heat over a medium high flame until the oil begins to shimmer. Add the sliced mushrooms in a single layer and sprinkle with a bit of salt and pepper.
Cook for 3-5 minutes without moving, until the mushrooms have browned on one side. Flip and cook on the other side for another 3 minutes.
Chop the lovage as finely as you can, either by hand or in a mini food chopper. Place the chopped lovage in a small bowl, add the lemon juice and season with salt and pepper to taste (I used about 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper). Drizzle in the olive oil and whisk to combine.
Place the boiled and drained potatoes into a large bowl and add the mushrooms. Pour in the lovage vinaigrette and minced pickle and stir gently to combine.
Place the potato and mushroom salad on a serving plate and add a few slices of serrano pepper, more if you like things hot (!) and serve.
The man may be gone but so glad the music is still with us! This is not about David Bowie, of course. It’s about change. And how well some of us may or may not accept it. Or how quickly or not we accept it. Or how intensely we begin to crave it after too many years of sameness or indecision.  And how in the end we all adapt, one way or another. I just realized this is my hundredth post here, so the topic seems very apropos. It’s been waaay too long a time coming, and in the blogosphere, I believe I have achieved glacial pace. Although I’m pretty sure even glaciers these days are moving (errr, melting) faster than I do when updating this poor blog.Â
Change is the only sure thing, and for me, accepting that has always been problematic. I’m a little better about it these days, but it will probably continue to be a work in progress for as long as I’m around. Anyways, I had lots to say about it, and typed it all out here, but ultimately decided that part of the post would be better located after the jump. If you want to skip directly to the recipes(don’t blame you), they are after the jump as well, and clearly separated from this more meandering portion.
Moving on to some food related changes. I may have written about this before, but I can’t remember and do not want to go back through the posts and figure it out. I come from a place with lots of food traditions, most of them involving meat, which I no longer eat. One of the biggest feasts takes place at Easter, and other than the dyed eggs and dessert, pretty much every dish involves meat. As my ties to the proverbial old country are getting older (I mean that literally), I am becoming more intent in trying to preserve some of the old recipes, but changing them to vegetarian versions, so that I can, in the future, uphold at least some of the links to the place I came from.
And so this past Easter, I made two of the traditional dishes, and changed the recipes to be both meatless, in the case of one and to use available ingredients, in the case of the other.
The first dish is a savory one called drob. It’s hard to describe it exactly, the closest I can come is to say that it is somewhere between a quiche and a mince pie, with a lot of herbs. Traditionally, it uses no dough, relying instead on a large piece of lamb’s intestine to hold the whole thing together. The filling is made by finely chopping all of the lamb’s entrails and mixing them with a lot of chopped fresh parsley and dill. The top gets brushed with a beaten egg, and the whole thing is baked until the top begins to brown. I will say this for my people - they really subscribe to the waste not/ want not mentality. This is an example of that mentality applied to the Easter lamb - every bit of it gets eaten or used. Still, this didn’t help me any when I got a craving for this “pie,” since the only thing I’m interested in doing to a lamb anymore is petting it. The changed recipe contains absolutely no meat or entrails, relying instead only on mushrooms and eggs. And a very large amount of fresh herbs, because that’s where the flavor really comes from.
The second recipe is for a traditional Easter dessert called pasca, which is essentially a cheesecake, a well flavored but not terribly sweet one. The funny thing is, growing up I refused to touch it, preferring chocolate or sugar eggs for my festive sweets. Then when I went back to visit Romania as an adult, my godmother made something  like pasca and after I tried it, I had to wonder why I’d refused it so strongly all those years ago. The traditional pasca is made with a fresh cow’s milk that I can’t purchase in the US. The dough, which is similar to the dough of the walnut cake we traditionally eat at both Easter and Christmas, is apparently  very involved and temperamental, and so far I have been dissuaded from even attempting it. Even if, according to family lore, my paternal grandmother was a master at it. Of course, no one has her recipe. This very special dough is used both as a bottom and a top for the cheese filling of the pasca, but since I was not going to be using it, I decided to use only a bottom crust in my adaptation and opted for phyllo dough in order to keep it thin and end up with those crunchy brown edges. Obviously, I also changed the type of cheese.Â
Whether you read this far or skipped straight to the bottom, the recipes for both my vegetarian drob and cheesecake-like pasca are after the jump. I hope you enjoy them.
                            ***
This is not about how I will change my ways, and be more diligent about posting here, and getting on a schedule, etc - because I already wrote about that, and obviously it did not work and now I feel a bit like an errant kid.
This is more about some changes I’ve encountered that may or may not be related to my lapse in posting. If nothing else, it might help me sort out some thoughts, and what else is a blog good for if not for brain dumping into the world?
First of all, I became very enthralled with Instagram. Obviously, my writing here is not of the highly edited and fact checked variety, but after getting used to how easy it is to just post a picture and add some hashtags, using an actual keyboard to write out thoughts, spending more than two minutes putting something together before posting, well, it started to feel more and more “involved.” Which I guess is not something I felt like being for a bit. So, one of the changes was that I started posting pictures on the gram box regularly, and stopped even attempting to write here.
Second, I think I hit some kind of writer’s block/ boredom/ disenchantment as far as writing about food was concerned. I just couldn’t think about anything food related that I wanted to write about. Yes, I know how pretentious and borderline stupid that sounds, but it’s the way I felt. I did not want to write about my take on the chia bowl, or my adventures with non wheat flour baking, although I engaged in both. I felt a little bit like no one around me was eating real food anymore, and while I continued to cook and eat (of course!), I didn’t have much to say about it. So I didn’t. And yes, I know this is in part to spending too much time on Instagram.
Third, I started to question the validity of my posting here. It used to be that this was just something I did for me, giving me an outlet for my thoughts and maybe a bit of practice at writing, because we all know practice makes perfect. Ha! But after a few months of instantaneous likes on my Instagram posts, I started to feel a little miffed at not getting the same response here. Good old tree falling in the forest dilemma. Not sure why I couldn’t get past it, since it didn’t bother me before, but, there you have it.
Of course, after the extensive, although believe me, not exhaustive, rant, I guess I could have kept it a lot shorter and to the point: I’ve been neglecting my blog because of Instagram! But it’s never been my way to be quick and to the point, so I see no point in editing down this rant.
                           ***
Chop all the mushrooms, including stems, and place together in a large bowl.
Chop the parsley and dill and place together in a bowl.
Heat the olive oil and butter in a large saute pan over medium heat. Add the chopped onion and scallions and cook until softened, about 2-3 minutes.
Add the mushrooms and salt, stir to combine, and cook until the mushrooms have released all their moisture and any liquid has evaporated, about 5 minutes.
Add the dill, parsley and chopped hard boiled egg and stir to combine.
Remove from heat.
Beat the two eggs and add to the mixture, stirring to incorporate. Add salt and pepper and stir to combine, adding more salt if desired.
Coat the bottom and sides of a 9 inch pie dish with butter.
Pour the mushroom mixture into the pie dish and bake for 35 minutes or until the top begins to brown and the edges of the pie begin to come away from the pie dish.
Let cool to room temperature. Slice and serve with a green leafy salad - my favorite is torn butter lettuce leaves, red onion, and a simple red wine vinaigrette.
Cheesecake-like Pasca
1 32 oz container ricotta
1 oz cream cheese
1.5 T sour cream (optional)
4 eggs
1 cup raisins
4 t sugar
3.5 t vanilla sugar
zest from one lemon
rum (optional) or water
5 sheets phyllo dough
2 T butter, melted
*Note: This is less sweet than a typical cheesecake, although the raisins provide added pops of sweetness. You may want to taste the mixture after adding them to decide if you want to add more sugar than the recipe calls for.
Bring the rum to a low simmer over medium low heat. Remove from heat and pour over raisins in a small bowl, enough to cover the raisins with liquid. Cover with a small plate and set aside to steep, at least an hour. Drain the raisins very well in a fine mesh strainer. Follow the same steps with water if using instead of rum.
Preheat oven to 380 degrees F.
In a large bowl, using a hand mixer on low speed, mix together the cheeses, sour cream (if using), sugars and lemon zest.
Beat the eggs in, one at a time, until well incorporated.
Stir in the well drained raisins. Set mixture aside.
Brush the bottom and sides of a low 10 inch pie dish with melted butter. Layer a sheet of phyllo dough in the dish, centering it as well as possible, and press lightly so the dough adheres to the dish. Brush with melted butter, turn the dish slightly clockwise, and repeat with the next sheet of phyllo, brushing with butter again. Repeat until all phyllo sheets are in the dish and brushed with butter. Trim any excessive overhang around the pie dish, but leave some in order to be able to fold it around the filling.
Gently pour the cheese mixture into the prepared pie dish. Going around the pie dish, fold any phyllo overhang, almost as if braiding it over the edge of the filling, to create a bit of a decorative element. Brush the top of this braid with some melted butter.
Bake for 40 to 55 minutes, until the edges of the dough are browned, and the filling has become solid and slightly puffed.
Remove from oven, allow to cool to room temperature, slice and serve. It may take a while for the pie to cool to room temperature.
Let’s talk about crackers. Anybody else love them as much as I do? I don’t just mean with cheese, or dips or on occasion - I mean all the time, with anything or on their own. Very often straight from the box. Not only do I love their crunch, their saltiness, or their amazing ability to deliver other amazing foods to my mouth, I also see crackers as the remedy for numerous problems. Upset stomach? Crackers can help. Had too many G&Ts/ margaritas/ whatever your beverage of choice? Have some crackers and your state the next morning will be dramatically improved. Bored but trying not to tear into the potato chips? For some reason, crackers just sound like a healthier snack to me.Â
Given their heavy presence in my life, especially during the colder months, it’s no wonder my much loved crackers have had an impact. Not a good impact, the kind of impact that saw me renewing my gym membership and trying to limit the “food from box” category in my daily intake. Which, naturally, got me searching the internet for alternate solutions. And by alternate solutions, I mean other crackers I could perhaps make myself. Maybe even without wheat!
I haven’t tried them all (the internet is a bottomless source of recipes!) but I did try out a few, and so far these two are my top favorites in the no wheat, relatively low-carb category. After the jump, see more pictures and notes and find out why these crackers were all they were cracked up to be (sorry, could not resist).
I like flax seeds in my bread, so when I came across Melissa Sevigny’s recipe for flax crackers on her blog, I had to try it. Unfortunately, the first time around I forgot to buy rosemary and tried to make the crackers with dried basil. Bad idea. They just tasted very grassy.
So I tried again, this time using rosemary. Dramatically less grassy, but I think I would like them even better with a stronger rosemary flavor and/ or maybe something spicy, like ground pepper or chili flakes. For now, here is what I did, which was to follow the recipe to a t. I am posting it below for ease (with very few alterations), but it can also be accessed at the link above.
Rosemary and Sea Salt Flax Crackers
1 cup ground flax seeds ( I used Bob’s Red Mill golden flax meal)
2 eggs
1/2 cup grated parmesan or romano cheese
1 t minced fresh rosemary
coarse sea salt for sprinkling
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Combine the flax, cheese and rosemary in a medium bowl and stir well to mix.Â
Add the eggs and mix using a fork until well incorporated and a crumbly dough begins to form. Set aside and let sit for 5 minutes.
Cut a sheet of parchment paper the length of the baking sheet you are planning to use. Gather the dough into a ball and place it in the middle of your piece of parchment. Flatten into a disc. Cut another piece of parchment paper of approximately the same length an place it evenly centered over the disc of dough. Roll out your dough as thinly as possible between the two sheets of parchment.
When sufficiently thin, slowly peel the top sheet of parchment and discard. Using a paring knife, cut a grid of squares or rectangles to a size you like (think Wheat Thins more than Wasa size here). Depending on your dexterity and precision, you will end up with fairly even sized crackers. I did not.
Sprinkle with salt and bake for 10 minutes. Remove from oven, separate individual crackers, flip and bake for an addition 3 minutes. If the crackers are too thin and do not separate easily from the parchment, bake for an additional 3 minutes, then separate, flip and bake on the other side for 2 - 3 minutes more.
Enjoy these with any cheese of your liking. Or with cream cheese and salmon roe. Either way.
The second recipe I tried seemed more far fetched to me because it uses almond flour, and I firmly associate almond flour with baking sweet things. My ignorance was proven wrong by Mike and his recipe for almond poppy crackers. I’m happy to report I ate my words and was very satisfied.
Again, for ease, I am posting the recipe below, but you can also access the original at the link above. The first time I made these crackers I used the exact measurements indicated and thought they were just very slightly too salty for me. On my second attempt, I cut the salt to a very scant teaspoon - not quite a teaspoon but more than a half. I also substituted chopped rosemary for the poppy seeds. The winner in my book so far! Except now I also want to try them with cracked pepper, maybe cumin, and maybe even mixing the two flours.Â
Combine the almond flour, poppy seeds (or rosemary), and salt in a medium bowl and stir well to mix.
Add the egg white and olive oil and mix using a fork until well incorporated and a crumbly dough begins to form.Â
Cut a sheet of parchment paper the length of the baking sheet you are planning to use. Gather the dough into a ball and place it in the middle of your piece of parchment. Flatten into a disc.Â
Cut another piece of parchment paper of approximately the same length an place it evenly centered over the disc of dough. Roll out your dough as thinly as possible between the two sheets of parchment.
When sufficiently thin, slowly peel the top sheet of parchment and discard. Using a paring knife, cut a grid of squares or rectangles to a size you like (think Wheat Thins more than Wasa size here). Depending on your dexterity and precision, you will end up with fairly even sized crackers. I did not.
Bake for 12 - 14 minutes, until golden brown, watching closely for the last 2 minutes or so to prevent burning.Â
Revel, like I did, in the fact that you will no longer have to eat your brie or Boursin on celery or cucumber and pretend to like it. Because now you have crackers!
“Hurry up!” That’s all I have to say to spring. It’s mid April, and based on the wind and temperatures around here you’d think it’s February. Maybe it’s to make up for the mild winter we had. Maybe it’s to get us back for those spring days we had in... February. Either way, at this point I care very little. I want to eat fresh green things, and I don’t mean salad. I want to stop wearing tights. I want to be able to waste hours on a park bench just staring at squirrels and strangers with a stupid grin on my face.Â
Instead, after having half of the city’s dirt embedded in my contact lenses during the week, I plan my weekend activities so they include as little outdoor time as possible. And instead of making toast with fresh peas or favas, or trying to gorge myself on ramps, I make curry.
Which is not an entirely bad thing. I guess I should be grateful to this tardy spring for giving me the opportunity to finally make a fish curry, which I put off since the end of last fall. Thank you very much for one last frosty, wind battered weekend! The curry was fantastic. That said, I would like sunshine, 70 degrees and the gentlest of breezes for this coming weekend, ok?
To be fair, the fish curry was really, really good and I will make it again. Next winter. But because chances are very good by then I will forget, the recipes, photos and notes are after the jump. I totally understand if you set aside until November.
Fish Curry
2lb catfish filet, cut into cubesÂ
1 large red onion, sliced into half rounds
1 26oz container strained tomatoes
1 T tomato paste
1 large habanero minced
2 T coconut oil
2 T turmeric powder
3 T garam masala (or fish curry blend if you have it)
1 T cumin
2 T chopped fresh cilantro
Note: Chopping onions might make you tear up, but chopping the habaneros with bare hands can really hurt, and the pain lasts a lot longer than those onion induced tears.I learned this lesson the hard way while chopping jalapenos a while back, and since then I have a new found love for latex gloves when chopping hot stuff. Save yourself the pain and wear gloves.
In a large saute pan over medium heat, melt the coconut butter. Add the sliced onion and a pinch of salt and stir to coat with oil.
Cook the onion until it softens and browns.
Add the spices and cook, stirring frequently, for about 2 minutes, until very fragrant. Be careful not to burn the spices.
Add the tomato paste and the chopped habanero and cook for another 2 minutes, stirring frequently to avoid burning.
Add the strained tomatoes and a pinch of salt and cook for 5 minutes, to let the flavors develop.
Add the catfish and stir to combine. Reduce the heat slightly and simmer for 10 minutes. Cover with a lid and cook for an additional 10 minutes.
Remove the lid and simmer uncovered for another 10 minutes or so, stirring occassionally, until the sauce has reduced a bit
While the curry is simmering, chop the cilantro.
Once the curry is done, remove from heat and stir in the cilantro. Serve over rice, with naan or pita, over quinoa - any way you want as long as you make sure to have some way of absorbing the delicious sauce.
Confession time: I like Chipotle. Or I liked Chipotle before I became too afraid to eat there. And I don’t mean because of the calorie count, although that can be very scary. My favorite thing at Chipotle was the cilantro lime rice. Not sure what makes it so good, I’ll probably never know exactly, and it probably should remain that way.
Anyway, since I am trying to curb my carb feasting, or at least get it a bit more in line, I needed an alternative to the lovely, fragrant basmati rice I would normally enjoy my curry over. Enter that other internet celebrity of low carb eating (besides zoodles) - cauliflower rice. I like plain cauliflower rice well enough, but I thought this curry was special enough to deserve something a little more upgraded. Like a Chipotle inspired cauliflower rice.
Cilantro Lime Cauliflower Rice (yes, I said cauliflower rice)
1 medium to large head cauliflower, separated into smaller florets
3T butter
3T finely chopped cilantro
juice and zest from 1 lime
salt to taste
Add the cauliflower florets  to the bowl of a food processor and pulse until they are broken down to a grain like consistency. Don’t overcrowd the food processor bowl - you will probably have to repeat this step 2 or 3 times.
Remove the riced cauliflower to a bowl. Remove any larger pieces and add to the next batch to be processed. Repeat until all the cauliflower florets have been riced.Â
Note: Yes, I know the picture below shows something more like couscous in texture, and if you want to process it to a larger grain, feel free. Or call it couscous. Whatever works for you.
Once all the cauliflower florets are riced, melt the butter in a large skillet and stir in the cauliflower and 1 teaspoon salt. Cook over medium low heat for 3 - 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. When the cauliflower is done to your liking (I don’t like mine too mushy), stir in the lime juice and cook for another minute.
Remove from heat and stir in the cilantro and lime zest.
Taste and add more salt as desired.
That’s it. Almost as painless as real rice, right? Top with curry and you’re set to go!
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It’s not really a cake and it does not involve spaghetti. Let me tell you all about it.
In my umpteenth attempt to curb my carb consumption, I was going to be all about those current fan favorites, zoodles, aka zucchini noodles. So far my attempts in that arena did not lead to any innovative recipes - I basically use the zucchini noodles in the same way I would use pasta noodles, and try to account for the extra water content. No fancy new recipes led to a compilation post - a “here’s lots of stuff you can do with zucchini noodles” kind of situation. Since I can’t live on zoodles alone, that post is taking just a bit longer to compile than I anticipated. So this happened.
I was on David Lebovitz’s site and saw this recipe for a spaghetti pie. Very generally, it takes my all time favorite pasta preparation, cacio e pepe, adds some extra cheeses, and bakes it all to perfection. I was drooling as I read his post. Unfortunately, pasta is off the menu for me for a bit, and zucchini noodles would never cut it, unless I spent a good amount of time dehydrating them completely.
Then this lovely family of four came to my rescue:
That was their last portrait together, I’m afraid. Shortly after it was taken, they were mercilessly roasted, raked with a fork, covered in a heady mixture of cheeses and baked until crispy on top.
To see the adapted recipe using spaghetti squash and find out how well it worked, keep on reading.
First things first, you must prepare your “spaghetti.” I have gotten better, more even results roasting spaghetti squash cut in halves, with the seeds removed prior to baking. However, these babies are not easy to cut when raw, and my current kitchen set up (looking at you, dull knives and little counter space) has led to a few close calls for my fingers. So I have been roasting my winter squashes whole and dealing with the seeds later.
Preheat your oven to 375 F and prick each squash all over with either a fork or the point of a knife. Place the squash on a baking sheet or in a roasting pan and roast until the skin softens, turning once about halfway through the roasting process. The roasting time varies, so you will have to check on your rotund friends a few times. A large squash took me about 80 minutes to roast to perfection. This time around, using small to medium squash, I roasted them two at a time, and they only took about 45 - 50 minutes for each pair.Â
One last note: I started out with 4 squashes, but the smallest one was roasted beyond usage. So maybe have a back up squash on hand.
Once the squash are roasted, the fun part begins. Let them cool down enough to be able to handle comfortably, cut off the two ends, scrape out the seeds and begin making your spaghetti by raking a fork from one side of the cut up squash to the other. Set aside in a colander or large strainer set over a bowl to let some of the water drain.
You can roast the squash a day before making the cake and refrigerate the noodles. I did this because of time constraints, but I think it ended up helping to draw water out of the squash strands, which helped the cake hold its shape rather than collapsing in a soggy pile. So if you can, I say roast the squash and separate out the strands a day ahead.
Spaghetti Squash Cake
4.5 oz comte, shredded
4.5 oz fontina, shredded
1.6 oz pecorino romano, grated
3/4 cups whole milk
3 medium eggs
1 t freshly ground black pepper
1 pinch cayenne powder
3/4 t saltÂ
3 - 4 medium spaghetti squash, prepared as above
Preheat oven to 425 F. Butter the bottom and sides of an 8 inch springform cake pan. Wrap the bottom of the pan tightly with aluminum foil and place on a baking sheet - this is all to prevent or limit any potential spill.
In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, salt and pepper.
Add half of the shredded fontina and comte and all of the grated pecorino and stir until well incorporated.
Add the spaghetti squash strands, one handful at a time. Try to squeeze as much water out of each handful as possible before adding. Stir to mix and add the next handful until you have added all the squash.
As you can see, even after squeezing more water out of the squash, my mixture still started to get pretty wet, and continued to get more puddly with each additional handful of squash.
Since my final cake mix was pretty wet, I decided to scoop it out by the spoonful rather than dump the entire thing in the prepared pan. It turned out to have been the right decision.
Even out the top of the mixture in the pan and top with the remaining shredded fontina and comte.
Bake until the top is almost completely set. For me, this was only 20 minutes, but the time may vary depending on the quantity of squash and the oven.
Turn off the oven and turn on the broiler. Broil until the top becomes crispy and browns in spots. For me, this was 7 minutes, but again, the exact time can vary.
Run a butter knife along the edge of the cake pan. Let it sit 10 minutes and open the ring of the form. Slide onto a plate and dig in!
On a last note, David Lebovitz was right - this was perfect along side a crisp, tangy green salad, as the cake itself is almost as rich and cheesy as a bowl of cacio e pepe. And although this was delicious, I can only imagine how good it is with real spaghetti.
First, for merchandising their stores in such an appealing way that I ended up buying an item I had no real need for.
I like donuts as much as the next person, but for obvious reasons, I don’t enjoy them that often. As tasty as they are, donuts are one of the few things that it never occurred to me to try to replicate at home. A proper donut, as we all know, must be deep fried to perfection, and as I probably mentioned on more than one occasion, engaging in deep frying kind of terrifies me (the  condition has gotten better, but not by much). Even if I somehow managed to get through the deep frying part, there would still be the issue of over consumption. So I always left donuts to the professionals. Until I saw this tray in a Roman cookware shop. It was bright and shiny and not too expensive, and I lost my senses. It also helped that nothing on the Italian label led me to believe this was a tray meant for baking donuts. In my mind, I was buying a mold for making some very special and as yet unidentified Italian delight.Â
Back home, once I figured out the real intended use of the pretty silicone item, I lost interest in using it and hung it on a wall in the kitchen, along with my other purchases from the same store. More than a year after that trip, I still occasionally got a pang of guilt when I saw the poor tray just hanging there, unused and unappreciated. So I decided it was time. Time to make the donuts. And since my timing is never short of perfect, I made this decision on the eve of my new and improved existence as a low(er) carb eater (I am kind of curious how long it will last). I think this was a very fitting way to say farewell for now to bread, cookies, cakes, crackers, you get the idea.Â
Which brings us to the second reason I blame the Italians. You may not be able to tell from the pictures, but the tray turned out to be for something that around here, in the US, where I am currently baking, qualifies as “mini-donuts.” Not full sized ones. And the recipes I consulted as reference were all for six donuts - six full sized, American donuts! The Italians made their donut mold too small! The details and photos of what happens when you put these two facts together are after the jump. Warning - some of what you’ll see is not that pretty!
Since this was my first time baking donuts, but also the last time I would be baking something for a bit, I did not want just any old plain donut recipe. Christmas had just wrapped up, and I still had a faint lingering regret from not having baked any cookies. Late to the party, but I thought something in a chocolate/ peppermint combination would be nice. I couldn’t find an exact recipe for what I had in mind, and after reading a couple of them for chocolate donuts, I felt ready to proceed - apparently a lot less cautiously than I should have. This is the recipe I cobbled together.
Baked Chocolate Chocolate Chip Donuts with Peppermint Icing
In a small bowl, mix together your wet ingredients until well combined.
In a large bowl, mix together your dry ingredients until well combined.
Add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients and mix together quickly until just combined. Stir in the chocolate chips.
Divide the batter evenly between the six spaces in the donut tray, making sure not to fill them more than 2/3. Place the silicone tray on a baking sheet to stabilize it. Obviously, no need to do this if you’re using a metal tray.
*Note on common sense: Use yours, don’t be like me. Sure, it looked like there was too much batter for the tray, maybe even, say, double the amount that would be needed for six donuts. Sure, the reasonable thing to do would have been to use half the batter, bake and repeat. But I dispensed with reason here the same way I did when I bought the tray in the first place, and carried on, clearly over-filling the tray.
Place on the middle rack in oven and bake until a test toothpick inserted in the batter comes out clean, about 12-15 minutes. Remove from oven, let cool in the mold for 5 minutes, then remove to a cooling rack and let coolÂ
At this point, you would ideally have 6 lovely donuts, ready to drizzle with icing and enjoy. However, if you ignored your common sense earlier in the process, as I did, you will have 6 of these things, Dominique Ansel may have invented the cronut, but I invented the cupnut - half donut half cupcake. Donut on the bottom, cupcake on the top. The mullet of baked goods.
This is what I aimed to end up for from the beginning.
Clearly, I overshot my aim. You could, I suppose, decorate and enjoy the mutant in its original shape. But I was determined to have donuts, so once they were cool enough, I performed a little surgery and ended up with six donuts and six cupcake tops. Since both of those could be decorated with icing, I’m sure some would call this a perfect outcome.
I was here for donuts only, so the poor cupcake tops did not get a loving icing treatment. No matter, they were scarfed down all the same. It seems chocolate chocolate chip batter cannot be resisted, no matter what shape it comes in.
Back to donuts. While they’re cooling - completely cooling, by the way, if you want the icing to stick - you can make the icing by mixing the powdered sugar, milk and peppermint essence in a small bowl. The finished icing should be very thick, having the consistency of honey. If yours is too thin, add more sugar. If too thick, add a few more drops of milk.Â
Now the fun part. Using a spoon, drizzle each donut liberally with icing and douse liberally with sprinkles if using. Let set for a few minutes and dig in.
With every year that passes, I find myself trying to recreate more and more of the foods I remember eating growing up and to pin down the recipes. Not the meat laden items, which I keep trying to make vegetarian, mostly without success. All the other stuff, the vegetables and the desserts, mostly.
One of the most repeated desserts in my mom’s repertoire was an apricot cake. She also often made it with sour cherries, so I guess it’s really more of a fruit cake, although it has nothing to do with that other much maligned gift item by the same name. When you see the recipe, you’ll know why this was a go to - easy prep and few, very common ingredients.
I became obsessed with this cake about three months ago. I asked for the recipe. It took another month (no, I am not joking) to locate the piece of paper on which the recipe had been scribbled many years ago, since the live source claimed she could no longer remember it by heart due to too many years out of practice. In the end, recipe in hand, I went looking for fresh apricots.
Turns out, I somehow missed apricot season altogether this year. My luck. I could have used peaches I guess, but for whatever reason, that didn’t do it. I resigned myself to waiting for the winter and making the sour cherry version, with jarred cherries, just like I remembered.Â
Then one day at the market, I saw sugar plums. I will admit two things here. One, I wanted to buy them because of the sugar plum fairy. Two, I can’t tell you if what I bought and used were really sugar plums, because in subsequent weeks, I saw many different kinds of plums labeled as such.
Either way, these beauties were impossible to pass on, so they came home and we made a cake fit for a fairy - bright and pretty, not too dense, not too fluffy, just sweet enough with a tangy pop of plum here and there. I’d like to think I did the sugar plum fairy proud.
The recipe and more pictures are after the jump.
I made this with a mix of plums, mostly sugar plums. I have also enjoyed it with apricots and sour cherries, so I have to assume pretty much any stone fruit will do. The original measurements were given to me in grams. I converted them below, but I also put in the gram measurements because they give a better idea of the proportion of ingredients to one another (basically, whichever measurement you go with, you need to use equal quantities of sugar and butter).
Sugar Plum Cake
5 oz /12 T/ 145 g butter, softened at room temperature
5 oz/ 12 T/145 g sugar
7 oz/ 32 T/ 200 g all purpose flour, sifted
5 eggs, yolks and whites separated
juice and zest from 1 lemon
1 t /4 g  baking soda
2 lbs plums, pitted and sliced either in halves or quarters, depending on size
confectioners sugar to serve
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
In a bowl, toss together the pitted and sliced plums with half the lemon juice and all of the lemon zest.
In a large bowl, beat the sugar and butter together with an electric mixer until they form a cream.
Add the  egg yolks and remainder of the lemon juice and mix to incorporate.
Add the flour and baking soda and mix well to create a smooth batter.
In a separate bowl, beat the egg whites until very stiff.
Gently fold the beaten egg whites into the batter, stirring only a few times to incorporate.
Pour the batter into a  9in x 12in baking dish lined with parchment or aluminum foil.Â
Arrange the plums on top of the batter.
Bake for 40 minutes, or until the top of the cake is lightly browned and a toothpick inserted into the middle of the cake comes out clean.
Remove from oven and let cool for at least 30 minutes. Slice into squares.
Prior to serving, dust each square lightly with confectioners sugar.
The delicate Chinese White Sword and the sturdy Italian were at a standstill. Neither one was willing to give an inch on either preparation or flavor. Then along came rotund and orange Turk, and somehow a compromise was reached. Maybe it was the Turk’s diminutive size, maybe it was his relaxed attitude, or may be it was just the very rarity of his appearance that bent the ears of the other eggplants on the counter. Either way,  the representatives of all three varieties agreed that, while they would each be seasoned and prepared differently, in the end they would come together in one glorious salad. They even agreed to let the four straggling baby artichokes that made it home from the market take part in the festivities.
Yes, this is still about food and recipes, but the detour was necessary due to a bout of late hump day boredom. I went to the market last weekend, and along with all the tomatoes, peaches and plums I could carry, I also decided to go for some eggplants. There is one stall at the Union Square Greenmarket in NY that is endlessly educational in the sheer variety of beans, peppers, and, you guessed it, eggplants that it sells throughout the season. I picked up some good ol’ Italians:
And then I saw these lovelies. I’ve seen and eaten white eggplants before, but they usually have a more bulbous appearance. These seemed almost delicate:
And then I saw something that I had not seen before, and that I was convinced were peppers:
It turned out to be Turkish eggplants and I had to have some.Â
When I got home with my haul, I didn’t quite know what to do with this assortment. I knew I didn’t want to just pan fry and stew  them with tomatoes and spices. I wanted to make something that would combine all three kinds of eggplants (because I bought too few of each, oops) but preserve the individuality of each. In the end, I decided to season and cook each separately, then combine them in a salad. It worked surprisingly well, and the recipe, notes and pictures are after the jump.
Since I cooked each type of eggplant separately and then tossed them all together with the dressing, I thought that would be the easiest way to structure the recipe as well. It may look like a lot of steps and ingredients, but they’re all simple and straightforward enough.
Notes: I waited to cut each kind of eggplant up right until before cooking them, rather than do all the chopping in the beginning. I also started off with the Chinese eggplant, so it could bake while the other ingredients were being prepared on the stove top. For the dressing, I suggest grating or chopping the garlic and letting it sit with salt and lemon juice while you cook the eggplants - it helps mellow it out. Oh, and lastly, I tossed mozzarella and basil into the salad, but this would probably also work with feta and mint or parsley.
Multi Eggplant Salad
Chinese White Eggplant
4- 6 small, long white Chinese eggplants, washed, dried and cut into 1 inch or so pieces diagonally
1 T white miso paste
1 T rice vinegar
1 T olive oil
1 t sesame oil
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.
In a small bowl, dissolve the miso paste into the rice vinegar. Add the oils and whisk to emulsify into a dressing.
Place the eggplant pieces in a ceramic or glass baking dish. Drizzle with the dressing and toss to coat.
Bake for 7 - 10 minutes, until eggplant pieces begin to soften and brown. Broil for an additional 5 minutes if (like me) you want the eggplant more browned.
Remove from oven and let cool.
Italian Eggplants
2-3 small Italian eggplants, washed, dried and cut into cubes
3 T olive oil
1/2 t fine sea salt
1/2 t ground black pepper
1/2 t Italian seasoning (I have one that contains dried herbs and red pepper flakes)
1/2 t piment d’Esplette or smoked paprika
Heat the oil in a large saute pan over medium heat. Add the eggplant and toss to coat. Add all the seasonings and toss to coat again.
Cook the eggplant until all the cubes are brown and golden on both sides and the skin has softened, but they are not yet falling apart.
Remove from the pan and set to cool on paper towels. Wipe the pan to reuse.
Turkish Eggplants
5-6 Turkish eggplants, washed, dried, and sliced very thinly into rounds
1/4 cup vegetable oil for frying
salt
fresh ground pepper
In the same pan used for the Italian eggplants, heat the oil over high heat and add the eggplant slices without crowding them.Â
Cook until the eggplant slices begin to crisp up, then remove to a paper towel using a slotted spoon. Let cool and season lightly with salt and fresh ground pepper. Repeat with any remaining eggplant.
Dressing
1 garlic clove, minced or pressed
1 t sea salt
1 T lemon juice
2 T olive oil
1 T balsamic vinegar
1 T maple syrupÂ
In a small bowl, mix the garlic with the salt and lemon juice and set aside while cooking the eggplants.
Add the balsamic vinegar, maple syrup and oil and whisk to emulsify into a dressing.
Assembly
If using them, start with the artichoke hearts. I just cleaned and steamed the four baby artichokes I’d picked up.
In a large bowl, combine the Italian and Chinese eggplants with the dressing, basil leaves and pieces of fresh mozzarella. Toss to combine, then add the Turkish eggplant and gently toss to incorporate. Serve.
I know it sounds like there are a LOT of things in this salad (kind of like in the UN), but for some reason they all work together (not so much like the UN). I’m sure this would work just as well with other kinds of eggplants, the idea for me was to have a variety of them and try out new produce (fresh out of UN references).Â
This is a post about an Instagram inspired frittata. I make frittatas all the time - they’re easy, take little time and effort, and make great leftovers. Oh, and they’re mostly healthy. I never give them much thought, and generally use whatever I have on hand to pull them together.
This time it was different.Â
Spurned on by one too many hours (yes, hours) spent on Instagram, I have started to make conscious attempts to make pretty food. Tasty, sure, but now my food must also be pretty! Because according to Instagram, everyone else’s is. Often enough, I catch myself just in time and default back to my natural setting - rustic(see previous post here).  This time I didn’t. I was dead set on pretty food, but not in the mood for eating a whole cake decorated with edible flowers, so I settled on a way to incorporate flowers and other pretty things into a frittata.
I settled on garlic scapes:
And some squash blossoms:
And ended up with this:
I was very pleased with the results, and declared it Instagram ready! The recipe, more pics and the necessary ramblings are after the jump.
Scapes and Blossoms Frittata
8 eggs
1/3 cup milk or cream
4 - 5 garlic scapes, washed and dried
4 - 5 squash blossoms, trimmed
4 oz feta cheese, crumbled
6 fresh thyme sprigs
1 T butter
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
In a small bowl, using a fork, crumble the feta cheese and mix it with leaves stripped from the thyme sprigs.
Using the butter, coat the bottom and sides of a low baking dish. Sprinkle in some of the thyme leaves.
Very gently, fill each one of the squash blossoms with a generous scoop of the feta mixture, without over stuffing. Twist the blossom’s petals together to better hold in the cheese.
*Note: I wasn’t quite sure how to prepare the squash blossoms since I never worked with them before, only eaten as many as I could at every restaurant that serves them. So, to be  safe, this is what I did for each blossom: rinsed the outside with water and gently patted dry with paper towel; removed the rough-ish stem stub and little leaves around the bottom; made a tear in one of the sides and removed the flower organs; used the same tear to fill the blossom with cheese. No allergies or choking were reported, so this will be my method for prepping squash blossoms until someone (the Internet !) tells me differently.
Layer the garlic scapes as photogenically as possible in the bottom of the baking dish, and then lay the cheese stuffed blossoms on top. Sprinkle all of the remaining feta cheese mixture in.
Beat the eggs with milk or cream in a bowl and season with salt and fresh ground pepper to taste. Pour the egg mixture evenly over the scapes and blossoms.
Bake for 15 minutes. If you want a little more color on top like I did, switch on the broiler and broil for an additional 3 minutes.
Ta-da!
You could enjoy a slice of this masterpiece with a side of salad, but I try to rationalize a need for potatoes any time I can, and this was the perfect occasion. There is really no need for a recipe, just roast any potatoes any way you like them and serve along the frittata.Â
But, just in case you need a recipe for roasting potatoes:
Oven Roasted Potatoes
2-3 lbs baby potatoes
1/4 cup pesto
olive oil
saltÂ
pepper
Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
Brink a large pot of well salted water to a quick boil. Add potatoes and boil for 10 min. Drain well in a colander.
In a large baking dish, toss the potatoes with enough olive oil to coat well and season with salt and pepper.
Bake for 15 minutes. Depending on your oven and your preferences, you may find the potatoes good to go at this stage. Because I like my potatoes extra crispy, I also broiled them for an additional 8 minutes.
Place about half of a the potatoes in a serving bowl, add the pesto and toss to coat.
If you don’t like pesto, you could also simply sprinkle your potatoes with fresh chopped herbs like parsley, thyme or both. Or any other fresh green herbs you prefer!
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For a few months now there has been a bag of buckwheat flour lingering in the back of the refrigerator. I needed some for a recipe, bought a 22 oz bag, and had every intention of dispensing with the rest in one of only two ways I was sure called for buckwheat flour - soba noodles or buckwheat pancakes. The noodles were just a tad intimidating, by which I mean very intimidating. The crepes sounded much more approachable, and I got as far as printing out a recipe - and then moved it around from one pile of papers to another. I still have it and I still intend to use it, maybe once I develop enough foresight to make the batter the day before, so it could chill in the refrigerator overnight. For now, a third solution surfaced - I would try to mix it with whole wheat flour and make a crostata. As you can see, that’s what I did.
The crostata was first suggested by the pile of peaches taking over a large amount of the already very premium counter space in the kitchen. Then I found sour cherries at the market, and knew I had to add a few in. And when I retrieved the buckwheat flour, I also remembered the jar of salted caramel hiding in the back. Which I may or may not have hidden from myself in an attempt to prevent over indulgence by the spoonful, but that’s an entirely other story.Â
The recipe and more photos are after the jump.
I wasn’t sure what proportions of whole wheat to buckwheat to use, all I knew was that crostatas are very forgiving as far as working with the dough goes. No fear inducing pie crust here. So if my dough turned out a little dry or a little mushy, it would probably still be ok. I used this Melissa Clark recipe as my starting off point, and it turned out pretty well in terms of consistency, especially when fresh out of the oven. The dough was a little stiff  coming out of the fridge, so I might try only chilling it for an hour next time, and I’m reasonably sure there will be a next time.
Buckwheat Crostata with Peaches (Adapted from Melissa Clark)
2/3 cup buckwheat flour
2/3 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 t salt
3 T sugar
1/2 ground cloves
1 stick unsalted butter cut into small cubes
2 t lemon juice
zest from 1 lemon
1 egg
heavy cream
4 - 5 medium peaches, sliced
10-15 sour cherries, pitted
1 T cornstarch (or all purpose flour if, like me, you don’t have cornstarch)
salted caramel sauce (or cherry jam)
cinamon sugar
cornmeal for dusting
In a food processor, mix together the flours, cloves, lemon zest salt and 1 T sugar until blended.
Add the butter to the flour mixture and pulse until large pieces begin to form. In a measuring cup, lightly beat the egg with enough cream to end up with 1/3 cup. Pour the mixture over the ingredients in the food processor and pulse again until dough begins to come together but is still crumbly.
Remove dough from food processor and knead together into one piece. Flatten into a disk, wrap in plastic, and chill for 2 hours.
In a bowl, toss the sliced peaches with the lemon juice, 2 T sugar and the cornstarch (or flour).  You can also add a few drops of bourbon if you have it. I didn’t, so I added a few drops of rum and some thyme sprigs.
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.
Remove the chilled dough from the refrigerator. Sprinkle some cornmeal onto your rolling area and roll the dough disk out into a 12 inch (or so) diameter round. It really does not have to be perfect. After 2 hours in the fridge, my dough was really hard to roll and kept ripping. It may have been the fridge, the type of flours I used, or both, but since this was a crostata, I just patched up the rips and moved on.
Spread a thin layer of caramel (or jam) on the area in the center of your crust, leaving about a one inch margin all around. (I included the picture above for instructional purposes only - I just couldn’t get a good shot of brown on brown.)
Add the peaches on top of the caramel and top with the sour cherries. Gently fold the edges of the dough over the fruit, pleating and patching as you need to hold fruit in. Brush the top of the dough with some cream or a bit of water and sprinkle with cinamon sugar.
Bake for 15 minutes, then broil for an additional 5 minutes. Remove from oven and let cool for at least 15 minutes, then slice and serve with ice cream.
Admittedly, based on the looks of the final product, I may have taken “rustic” a little far with this poor crostata, but it came together very easily and the flavor was excellent. Maybe next time I make it I will pay just a little more attention to the dough, so its visual appeal can match its taste.
I’m happy to let everyone know that I’ve discovered a new and barely disguised talent I have. I am a fantastic procrastinator. Just to give you an idea, I started working on this post a couple of days after Cinco de Mayo, which means well over a month ago. Had I finished what I started then, the posts around here would still have been widely spaced, and this in the year when I would attempt to post more, not less, frequently. Not that anyone’s counting.
I won’t rehash the contents of my long neglected previous draft, because by now they are completely irrelevant. The gist of it, though, was that, due to a variety of factors (too much pasta, too little time, some thoroughly enjoyable trips), my most advanced culinary attempts of late amounted to salad. Sometimes not even that.
That is still the case.Â
So, rather than delaying this post again, or writing out a recipe for something that, nine times out of ten, requires no recipe, I decided to just share  some photos of what I’ve been putting together and eating. Most of what you’ll see involved no cooking, unless your can qualify boiling water and turning the oven on as such.
I’m hoping this will get me started again, get me inspired and motivated in a way that I just have not been recently. Photos and notes of what has happened in the meantime are after the jump.
I will spare you the detailed dissection of every salad I’ve made in the last two months or so. There were a lot of them, all following the same template with occasionally varying ingredients: leafy greens + chopped vegetables and nuts + dressing. For me, the greens are always mixed, the chopped vegetables depend on a complex formula of (availability + laziness) / time, and the dressing is still a work in progress. If I ever master a basic vinaigrette to my satisfaction, I will let everyone know.
In more exciting news, strawberries are taking over the farmers’ market in the last few weeks. These were the first ones of the season for me!
I ate a good amount of them sliced on top of a fresh baguette slathered in goat cheese and drizzled with balsamic vinegar. Oh, and there was chilled rose to go with it all. Good choice all around.
There was also fresh asparagus. My first attempt to gorge on the speared one was met with defeat, and some disappointment. In spite of repeatedly seeing pictures of a market piled high with green and purple spears, I couldn’t find a single strand when I got to the market. It seriously looked like no one had even heard of asparagus. The following week, I dramatically improved my timing and was rewarded with this:
I didn’t want to do much with it, but even though I know I can, just rinsing and eating doesn’t sound that appealing when asparagus is involved. For whatever reason, cooking didn’t sound that appealing at the moment either.
After enduring years of cocktail parties where fancy people around me ate asparagus spears wrapped in prosciutto, I decided to do something about it. Namely, I wrapped slices of smoked salmon around very lightly blanched asparagus. Definitely prize winning material, but it did make me question myself a bit - why did it take me so long to get to this point? Mentally, I mean.Â
Whatever. Just glad I made it. For good measure, I drizzled the plated feast with a light dressing made of lemon juice, olive oil, finely chopped chives and scallions and some salt. The thyme sprigs were purely decorative, because I have a thyme bush that’s gone nuts. Now all I need to do is throw a cocktail party and impress everyone with this amazing discovery!
Worry not, I saved the bottom part of each and everyone of the asparagus spears, plus those from a subsequent bunch, and made them into a quick creamy soup. I guess I cooked more than I thought, because for that I had to chop the asparagus, plus some onions, saute it all, then boil it, puree it, and stir in some cream. Phew!
There was, of course desert, prompted mostly by the half used package of puff pastry lingering in the freezer and the pretty rhubarb that I bought and then didn’t feel like doing much with. Because that’s what sometimes happens.
I (over)roasted the washed and trimmed rhubarb for about 20 minutes at 375 degrees with a tablespoon or so of brown sugar. While that was going on, I rolled out the puff pastry to a slightly larger rectangle than the one it comes pre-folded in, scored a border about half an inch in from each side, and pricked the poor thing all over with a fork. Then I lined up the rhubarb pieces and baked the whole tart again until golden, about 15 minutes at 400 degrees. The thyme on top is just decorative, once again.
And so it went - the last couple of months in a slowed down kitchen. I will now cross my fingers and hope that I get hit with a super dose of inspiration, get back to cooking and maybe even make up a little lost time. For now, I’ll go finish the last piece of tart.
Easter is a big food holiday for me, but since I’ve written about it here before, I will not go into a lengthy why and how. Suffice it to say that it has less to do with massive quantities or varieties of food and more to do with the tradition of gathering with friends and family  to share a consistent roundup of dishes. As the years fly by, the group has become more and more scattered and due to various dietary changes, the menu is less and less what it used to be. This is not necessarily a bad thing, although I miss the ritual and excitement of setting up a “formal” table and spending almost an entire day at lunch with a big group of familiar faces.Â
As for the food,only the painted eggs have remained steady. Â The lamb of old and all of the dishes it was incorporated in - pretty much everything but dessert - has been replaced by fish and vegetables. For the sake of making this feel like the special meal I always thought of it as, certain criteria must be met. The preparation needs to be fairly simple, but feel fancy. No complicated sauces, but no foil wrapped salmon either. The good plates still come out.
It all starts in the morning, with a cup of strong coffee, as always, except this time there is a slice of fluffy, nutty and not too sweet Easter bread to go with it. Somewhere between panettone and babka, this bread is something my family used to bake every year for Christmas and Easter, the two times each year tradition calls for it. At Christmas, its name changes to Christmas bread, but the ingredients and preparation stay the same. It’s somewhat labor intensive and patience requiring though, so nowadays we just buy it from a Romanian bakery. Good thing there is such a thing in New York, and planning is still required - your order must be placed at least a week in advance.Â
This is how Easter started...
This is how it continued....
  And this is how it wrapped up:
Along the way, there may also have been a substantial piece or two of this:
 More pictures, more notes and what may or may not amount to a few recipes are after the jump.
I wanted to make this pie for the following reasons:
1) I am reading this book called "The Jungle Diet," and in the section about traditional diet in Crete there is mention of hortopita - a version of the Greek pie you can find many, many versions of throughout NY. Hortopita uses wild greens instead of spinach and reading about it made me want to forage for my own wild greens. Given where I live, I thought it was safer to stick to chard and spinach.
2) I am intimidated by phyllo dough in the same way I am intimidated by wonton and rice paper wrappers. This has led to a lone packet of phyllo sheets in the freezer for....many months. I figured it was now or never, and if I ruined it, I wouldn't cry too hard.
3) it seemed like a very appropriate Easter/ spring appetizer to make.
I ended up loosely following Mark Bittman's recipe for Hortopita, adapting it to what I could actually locate. Still looking for sorrel and hartwort.
The Pie
1/2 pack phyllo dough sheets, thawed
2 bunches chard, stems removed, leaves cut into strips
1 bunch spinach, chopped
2 leeks, green leaves discarded, white parts thinly sliced
1 red onion, finely diced
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 bunch fresh mint, finely chopped
1 bunch fresh parsley, finely chopped
1 bunch fresh dill, finely chopped
1 small bunch fresh oregano, finely chopped
1/2 lb feta, crumbled
3 T butter
olive oil for brushing
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Wash the chard and spinach, remove the stems from the chard and chop it all in strips. Thinly slice the white portion of the leeks. Finely dice the onion. Mince the garlic.
Mince all the herbs as finely as you can.
In a large saute pan, melt 3 T of butter over medium heat. Add the onions and leeks and 3 pinches of salt  and cook for 5 - 7 minutes, until they soften and become translucent. Add the minced garlic and cook for another 30 seconds.
 Add the chopped greens, herbs and another generous pinch of salt. Stir and cook until the greens have wilted down, about another 5 minutes. Season with additional salt and pepper to taste. Place greens mixture in a colander and allow to drain while you prepare the dough.
 Grease the bottom and sides of a 9 or 10 inch glass or ceramic pie dish. Lay 2 or 3 phyllo sheets in the dish and brush with olive oil. Layer another 2 or 3 sheets on top and brush with olive oil again. Repeat with a third layer and brush with olive oil again.
Place the drained greens in a large bowl and mix well with the crumbled feta.
Place the greens mixture in the phyllo lined pie dish by the spoonful. Spread it around so that it is even, and continue filling the dish until it is filled close to the rim. You will very likely find that, like me, you have a decent amount of greens mixture left. Resist the urge to cram it all in, it will keep the pie from becoming soggy.
 Fold any overhanging edges of phyllo over the greens.
 Layer 2-3 layers of phyllo over the greens mixture and brush with olive oil. Trim any pieces that hang over the edges of the dish and layer them on top. Add a second layer of phyllo sheets, trim and add the pieces to the top of the pie and brush generously with olive oil.
Score the top layer of phyllo dough into serving pieces.
  Bake for 40 to 50 minutes. My pie clocked in at 45 minutes to golden perfection.
 Remove from oven and allow to cool for 20 minutes before cutting into slices and serving. Resist the urge to pick golden phyllo pieces off the top.
  The Fish
serves 2
whole sea bass, about 1 - 1.5 lbs, scaled and gutted
2-3 sprigs fresh thyme
2 sprigs fresh rosemary
4-5 lemon slices
5.5 cups coarse kosher salt
3 egg whites
cookie sheet
aluminum foil
Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
Line a cookie sheet with aluminum foil.
Beat the egg whites until foamy, then mix in salt until it forms a paste.
On the cookie sheet, arrange a thin layer of the salt mixture about the length and width of your fish.
 Rinse the fish with cold water and pat it as dry as possible, inside and out, with paper towels.
Stuff the cavity of the fish with the rosemary, thyme and lemon slices.
Place the fish on top of the layer of salt on the cookie sheet.
  Cover the fish completely with the rest of the salt mixture.
 Bake for 25 minutes.
 Remove from oven and let rest for 10 minutes.
 Crack the hardened salt crust with the back of a spoon. Remove as much of it as possible from the fish. Remove the head, tail, spine and rib bones of the fish and serve.
Â
 The Sides
These were the simplest and least prep dense dishes on the menu.
I scrubbed a bunch of fresh carrots well and removed the green leaves. The smaller the better as far as these carrots are concerned, but I couldn't find any that were to small, so these had to do.
Cover the carrots with vegetable stock, add a few sprigs of rosemary and thyme, a few black peppercorns and a bay leaf. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to low and allow to poach at a very low simmer for 20 - 30 minutes, until carrots are very tender but not mushy.
  Drain and plate.
IÂ needed a starchy side for the fish. I first thought of rice or quinoa, but that seemed to weeknight. When I was looking up how to salt bake a whole fish, I saw a mention of "lemony Greek potatoes." Then I saw a mention of these Greek potatoes on TheKitchn a few days later and knew that someone was trying to tell me something.
This is how the potatoes happened for me:
4 medium large potatoes, peeled and cut into wedges (I used Russet)
juice from 2 lemons
1/4 cup olive oil
1/3 cup vegetable stock
1T dried oregano
1t dried thyme
3 t semolina
salt, to tasteÂ
pepper, to taste
fresh oregano to serve
Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
Toss the potatoes with all the other ingredients besides the fresh oregano and place in single layer in baking dishes.
Cover loosely with aluminum foil and bake for 10 minutes.
Remove aluminum foil, baste potatoes with any pan liquids and return to oven for another 15 minutes. Remove from oven and baste, or, if the potatoes look dry, drizzle with a little additional olive oil. Bake for another 10 minutes.
Turn on the broiler, and broil potatoes for 5 - 10 minutes, until they get extra golden and some of the edges look a little burned.
   Remove from oven, sprinkle with fresh oregano and serve.
  Promise yourself that you will make this exact meal at least once a month going forward, because it's too easy, to tasty, and leaves you feeling way too good not to.
    The Dessert
In keeping with the day's trend, this also had to be something easy, which I made a little bit more complicated when I decided to peel the skin off of every slice of orange, as opposed to slicing the oranges into rounds. Next time.
Really, the absolute perfect desert here would have been fresh berries with whipped cream. Talk about easy. But Easter is just a little too early in the year for the local berry plants, and I got a little tired of the dull, overly big strawberries the supermarket is flooded with. So I went with oranges, because they're never local in our parts anyway.
Happy coincidence then, that I finally started reading Marcella Hazan's "Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking," which has been untouched on my shelf for almost six months. There is a recipe for macerated oranges, which was easy enough that I could remember it by heart (I think - I may have gotten one or two things wrong). Slice 4 oranges and remove as much pith and skin from each slice. Zest and squeeze two other oranges. Zest and squeeze one lemon.
   Arrange the orange slices in a lipped serving dish.
Combine the juices, zest, and 1 T sugar and mix well to dissolve the sugar. Pour this mixture over the oranges and drizzle a tablespoon or two of Cointreau on top if you want (I did).
Cover tightly with a piece of plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 4 hours.
 How easy was that? I couldn't resist adding one last touch and serving the oranges over slices of Easter bread, topped with toasted Easter bread croutons, but I'm sure they would be just as good on their own. Or on pound cake. Or with madeleines. You get the idea.
Quinoa, quinoa, the magical grain (seed, technically). I eat it so frequently these days it feels like there was never a time when I had not heard of it. But, long ago as it may have been, there was a time when quinoa was not “a thing,” for me or most other people living in the US of A. Its presence may still be less ubiquitous on the supermarket shelves of other states than it is on the shelves of every deli and bodega in New York City. It’s not something I can say with any degree of accuracy.
What I can tell you with certainty is that it’s become as much a staple food for me as, let’s say, rice. Ever since someone very near and dear completed an internship in Bolivia for a quinoa pasta company over a decade ago, you can find a box of the little grain with a tail in my cupboard. The only difference these days is that I don’t have to go to a specialty or, God forbid, a health food store to buy it, although I did find out for myself recently that not all quinoa is created equal.Â
A year or so ago I read various articles about how our new found penchant for it was having a less than thrilling impact on the diets and lives of the people that had grown and consumed it for so long. And I felt bad. And then I read some other articles written in response, which claimed that there were plenty of conscientious quinoa producers, whose farmers’ lives were not being damaged by my desire to feel healthy on a Tuesday night. And I felt less bad. I reassured myself that I would buy quinoa the same way I buy eggs or milk, inspecting the packaging for some pledge of quality practices. Because we all know that packaging never lies. But I digress, and I will continue this train of thought later.
All I intended to share in this post is my recent revelation of what to do with quinoa besides using it instead of rice. That’s where these lovelies come in.
The recipe, more photos and possibly some additional meanderings are after the jump.
 I was very excited when I read this because it led to a whole new way to get out of my quinoa slump. In the name of giving credit where credit is due, I linked the original recipe, but  it is so simple that I can’t resist paraphrasing it too.
Quinoa Cakes in 3 Steps
Step 1: Cook some quinoa the way you always would, maybe boil it a little longer so more starch is released.
Step 2: Mix in chopped cilantro and scallions, a few squirts of rooster sauce, and stir to mix well. This is where you can let your creativity shine - maybe use parsley and some minced garlic. Maybe corn kernels, cilantro and a few dashes of barbecue sauce. You get the idea. Form mixture into patties like you would with burgers.
Step 3: Heat oil in pan. Add a few cakes, flatten a bit with a spatula. Cook for a few minutes until one side crisps up, flip and repeat. Don’t crowd the pan.
That was easy. And fun! Thank you, Mr. Bittman!Â
 All together now!
Stir to mix.
 Form the patties.
 All the cute little cakes ready for a hot oil bath.
 Look how golden they get.
Â
 This is where I tried to experiment a little. I thought that flattening the cakes further would result in more surface contact with the pan and lead directly to more crispy, crunchy cakes.
 It only kind of worked, since the edges of each cake didn’t get all that crispy.
Lastly, I also made a variation with finely chopped red pepper and crumbled feta, as you can see below. Taste wise, it was successful, but the cakes didn’t hold together as well as the scallion/ cilantro/ sriracha combo. I’m guessing it may have something to do with both the peppers and feta being chunkier and having a fairly high water content (even though I patted both down, I promise). Maybe chopped pine nuts and rosemary next time.
 Now, since the essentials (recipe and pictures) have been dispensed with, I will ramble on for just a tiny bit longer.  I live in a neighborhood with a good number of South and Central American immigrants, so the local supermarket, in addition to the standard supermarket fare, also has entire isles of foods imported from those places. And on those isles, you can find a lot of different bags of quinoa. And on that night, the thought that I shouldn’t have to pay a lot for staple foods won out over any other considerations. I bought the cheaper quinoa. I am happy to report that once cooked, it was as good as any quinoa I had before. But I also have to mention that I had to spend a few minutes rinsing it and noticed several small pieces of debris, which led me to soak it and also led to a lot more debris floating to the surface. So, if you’re ok with spending a little more time to cleaning your quinoa, the cheap version is just as good as the rest. Which does not in any way address the way it was produced, but there it is.
Not to sound dramatic, or beat this poor dead horse beyond recognition, but oh, how I long for spring. Daylight is finally stretching past the 5:30 mark, it's true, but that's still not enough to allow for decent natural light photography, not for me anyway. You'll see what I mean in the images of this post.
I'm tired of the puffy coat and the rubber boots. I appreciate that they kept me warm and dry, but it's time for them to go. I'm tired of hat hair and trudging through slush, of black snow and getting my face pelted by ice. So tired, in fact, that I can't even manage to wake up at hours that would allow me to use whatever little natural light there is.
So this is it. This is my last concession to winter, the last stew for this season. I don't care what the calendar or the weathermen have to say, I'm declaring my own spring, to begin promptly as soon as daylight savings time forces me out of bed an hour early.
*Update: Someone somewhere must have been as tired of my griping about winter as I was about winter itself. As soon as daylight savings time started three days ago, the weather thawed out. Turns out this last rant was even more unnecessary than I originally thought, but my draft of it was mostly done, so I am posting it anyway. This is why I should complete my posts when I start them, not several days later. Lesson possibly learned.
The farewell to winter recipe, photos and, of course, more comments, are after the jump.
This stew came about because I wanted something similar to Indian food, but didn’t feel committed enough to look up a recipe and wanted to just use what I already had available. Other than the garam masala, the other ingredients are most likely present in everyone’s cupboards. I wanted this stew to feel hear and not have too much sauce, so I immediately thought of potatoes. I would have been just fine with only potatoes, but a nagging little voice kept pestering me to add something that might appear more nutritionally well rounded than taters. That’s where the eggplant popped in. The peas were just in the freezer and needed to be used up. Plus, I thought they would add some color and at this point I really needed to see some green.
Curried Eggplant Stew
2 medium eggplants, washed and cubed
2 large potatoes, peeled and cubed
5 - 10 oz frozen peas, thawed
1 15 oz can chopped tomatoes
1 medium onion, diced
1 T fresh ginger, minced
1 t turmeric
2 T cumin
1 T curry powder
1 T garam masala
2 T coconut oil
1 cup vegetable broth
olive oil
fresh cilantro to garnish
Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
Wash the eggplant and trim the ends. Cut into medium sized cubes. Â In a large bowl, toss the eggplant with about 2 T olive oil, a large pinch of salt, some fresh ground pepper and the garam masala. Stir to combine.Â
*If the eggplant cubes look a bit thirsty at this point, add some more olive oil and toss to coat. Eggplant can drink a lot of oil, and I like to be generous with it because I think it really helps with both flavor and texture.
Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil, spread the eggplant cubes on it in a single layer and roast for 20 minutes, or until the skin of the eggplant has softened a bit.
In a large pot over medium heat, melt the coconut butter. Add the onion, ginger, turmeric, cumin, curry and a pinch of salt.Â
Cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion has softened and the mixture is very fragrant, about 5 minutes.
Add the tomatoes and their juice and the vegetable broth and cook until they begin to simmer.
Add the cubed potatoes and cook, stirring occasionally, until they are almost completely cooked through, about 5 - 7 minutes.
Add the roasted eggplant and stir to combine. Cook for an additional 5 - 10 minutes, until most liquid is absorbed.
*If you prefer a saucier stew, add another 1/2 - 1 cup of vegetable broth. I wanted to bring this to work and was also trying to eliminate the temptation of mopping up extra sauce with bread or naan, so less sauce was best for me.
Add the thawed peas and stir to combine. Cook for another 2 minutes to allow the peas to warm through but not lose the bright green color. Season with salt and pepper to taste and remove from heat.
Garnish with fresh cilantro and serve. A squirt of lime didn’t hurt either.
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Although it's one of the soups I eat most frequently, because nothing goes better with a grilled cheese sandwich, I had not, until this week, made my own tomato soup. Unless you count gazpacho, which I don't. Clearly, this had to be rectified, because my craving for a grilled cheese was getting unbearable, my ambition was running high, and the can of Campbell's was not going to cut it this time.
At first, I didn't think I would need a recipe. How hard could it be? Cook tomatoes in some  water or broth, season to taste, puree in a blender and strain. That thought was almost instantly followed by "I wonder if I should use fresh tomatoes or canned tomatoes?" I always like the idea of fresh produce better, and if this whole process was happening in August or September, the question would not even have presented itself. Instead, it is the most frozen depth of winter, the middle of February. So deep in winter's territory are we that even Niagara Falls froze over. And I would probably not be hankering for grilled cheese and tomato soup in either August or September.Â
A quick search for tomato soup recipes returned so many results that I became anxious trying to decide which one to use. I decided to just search for tomato soup recipes proffered by some of my favorites, David Lebovitz and Smitten Kitchen. Lucky for me, they each had a tomato soup recipe. Unlucky for me, one used fresh tomatoes, the other canned, and my question remained unanswered. So I went with internet consensus and seasonality, chose the canned tomatoes and was off in search of whole, peeled San Marzano tomatoes, because my internet digging also indicated these were the creme de la creme of canned tomatoes. And because even very simple things can be made just a tad bit more ... complex.Â
Once I acquired the correct tomatoes and given up (again) on the pursuit of simplicity, I thought it would be nice to roast the tomatoes a bit to give them more flavor, but also because it meant turning on the oven and making the kitchen nice and toasty.Â
Both of my reference recipes asked for the tomatoes to be oven roasted, but they kind of went their different ways after that. I liked some elements of each one, but wanted to leave others out, and ended up with something I labeled Roasted Garlic Tomato Soup. The recipe, photos and all those other good things are after the jump.
As I said, each recipe had elements that I liked, and others I wanted to skip. Adding brown sugar to the roasting tomatoes sounded just a tad fancier than using plain old granulated stuff. So did adding a few garlic cloves to the roasting tray and some sherry to finish things off at the end. I like shallots, so I used some in addition to the garlic, but I thought the soup would be creamy enough on its own, so I passed on the cream calories. Finally, I did not have fresh herbs, so I used this opportunity to make a teeny, tiny dent in my sack of herbes de Provence.
The result was rich and satisfying, but definitely not everyone's cup of soup and definitely only a remote cousin to most store bought tomato soups. This version of the classic had more flavor - you could taste the garlic and the herbs. There was also a slight tang to it, which surprised me, given the brown sugar. I know tomatoes can be acidic, but I thought the sugar used for roasting would take care of that. If I make this again, I might try mellowing it a bit more by using only half the shallots and garlic and adding a bit more sugar.
One last note, on the odd quantity of canned tomatoes. I originally intended to use 3 28 oz cans of San Marzano tomatoes. Of course, the first store I went into only had this particular kind of tomatoes in 14.5 oz cans, so I bought 5 of those. Then, just to satisfy my curiosity, I stopped by another store, which had these tomatoes in the 28 oz size, so I bought a can there as well. Don't ask why, I just did, thinking to myself that I would use all of them. I got home to realize I did not have a large enough pot, so that's how I ended up with the quantities below.
Roasted Garlic Tomato Soup
1 28 oz can + 3 14.5 oz cans whole peeled tomatoes
1 T dark brown sugar
4 T butter
4 large shallots minced
6 garlic cloves peeled
2 cups low sodium vegetable stock
2 T sherry
pinch of nutmeg
2 pinches herbes de Provence
toasted pumpkin seeds to serve
 Preheat oven to 450 degrees, with a rack in the top third of it.
Drain the tomatoes and reserve all the juices. Remove the seeds from the roasted tomatoes and slice so that you can lay the flesh of the tomatoes flat on a roasting tray. Work over a fine mesh strainer set over a bowl so that you can save any additional juice.
Line a rimmed baking sheet with aluminum foil and lay the seeded tomatoes flat on it. Sprinkle with the brown sugar. Place the garlic cloves among the tomatoes and roast for 20 minutes, until edges begin to brown. Depending on how large a baking sheet you have, you may need to roast the tomatoes in batches like I did.
Melt the butter in a large stockpot over medium heat. Add the diced shallots, a pinch of salt and pepper and the nutmeg. Cook for 4 - 5 minutes, until the shallots soften.
Add the vegetable stock and cook for about 5 minutes, until well warmed through. Add the reserved tomato juice and continue cooking for another 5 minutes.
Add the roasted tomatoes and garlic, an additional pinch of salt and pepper, and the herbes de Provence. Reduce the heat to low and simmer for 10 to 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Turn the heat off and let cool for a few minutes.
Using a strainer set over a large bowl, strain the solids and reserve the liquids. Place strained solids and a ladle or two of liquid into a blender and puree until completely smooth.
Return the pureed and liquid ingredients to the pot and stir well to combine. Heat for an additional 5 minutes over medium-low heat, adding salt and pepper to taste.Â
Remove from heat and stir in the sherry. Top with the toasted pumpkin seeds and alongside your favorite grilled cheese sandwich.
And just in case you get even more ambitious than I did and want to conduct a very scientific comparison, or, you know, a blind tasting of tomato soups, this is David Lebovitz's recipe and SmittenKitchen's version. It could be an entertaining way to spend the next snowed in weekend.
Or, you know, your average February snow storm in New York. When outside looks like this,
you could:
1) Exercise
2) Clean the bathroom really well
3) Organize your closet
4) Watch movies and read
5) Tackle a recipe you've been meaning to get to
I am, generally, a realistic person, especially when it comes to estimating how many things I can accomplish in any one day. If anything, I like to underestimate on this front, because it gives me great satisfaction to finish my to do list and then have time for a few more tasks. Or just have more time for the sake of having more time. Â For some bizarre reason, this all goes out the window when I am presented with and unexpected day off from work.Â
Last week's snow storm was more anticipated, so I didn't plan to do much besides stocking up on food(because everyone else was!) and monitoring "the situation" on the local news. Maybe laundry.
This week's winter event came unexpectedly. I was all set to go to work until the subway froze on the tracks (literally), and I was presented with a whole day off. I immediately became convinced that I could tackle items 1 - 5 above without much effort. As you can see here, I managed to check off number 5.Â
The recipe, pictures and story (there is always a story, or at least a lot of side tracking) are after the jump.
 Can you believe the bright little toasts above got their start in these few bags?
I love bread and crackers, but left unchecked, my fondness for wheat products does not lead to good things, so I am always on the lookout for alternatives. Most leave me cold - rice crackers and the like didn't do anything for me. Others, like this "bread," have a lot more potential. I had heard about the Hemsley sisters on various websites, so when T magazine kindly offered up two of their recipes, I was game.
The multi-seed loaf was nutty and grainy - in the way a really good whole wheat and seeds loaf of bread is. It was a little sweeter and stickier than I expected (so I'm glad I skipped the raisins), but that could be because of this guy, roasted while I measured out the other ingredients and made that greener than Irish Spring spread.
I would like to take this moment to introduce my latest gadget - a kitchen scale! Had it not been for the 7 ounces of sweet potato or squash the recipe calls for, I would have continued to drag my feet on its purchase.Â
I want to make this recipe with squash in hopes that it might make the dough a little less sticky.
This was the dough - very sticky and goopy, so I had my doubts about being able to shape it into anything resembling a loaf. I'm really curious how the sisters got the loaves in their pictures so tall and uniform. Practice?
For me, it was "rustic" to the rescue once again, as this was the closest I could come to a loaf shape.
I could think of lots of other things to top my bred with once it came out of the oven, but none of them were as virtuous as this neon green puree. This is 2015, so I figured any recipe from an article with the word detox in the title would be on trend. Right? Or was detox a 2014 only thing?
Regardless, the green mash was easy to make and could be easily doctored up later if need be. In its true to recipe form it was a bit bland, but some chili flakes or smoked paprika could up the ante. Or, you know, some Parmesan :).
 When the loaf came out of the oven, it was crusty and smelled delightful, which made me very happy.Â
My one disappointment with it is that it was so small! Nowhere near enough for all the green mash, but I guess that may have been by design. I shared this loaf, but I could easily have scarfed down two or three loafs on my own. Even without wheat, probably a bad idea.
The important take away is that I found a non-wheat loaf whose taste and texture I like enough to make again. And that a little shot of neon green food enabled me to ignore what was taking place outside my window and feel a little closer to spring.