Butter and Rosemary Roasted Walnuts

This morning, the sky is gray and there are snow flurries in the air. It is a bitterly cold day in New York City. It is the kind of day that begs you to stay under the covers with a cup of tea and a good book. I’m about to start The Lake of Dreams by Kid Edwards. What’s on your reading list?

I think we need something to smile about in this frigid weather. To keep my spirits up, I’ve made a list of things that make me smile, even on the coldest days:

-Our just-decorated Christmas tree

-Starbucks Gingerbread lattes

-Fireplaces

-Puppies in holiday sweaters

-Fuzzy purple slippers

-These rosemary and butter roasted walnuts



I’m sure my fellow New Yorkers will agree that it got depressingly cold over the weekend. So cold that I was forced to don wool socks on my hands when I couldn’t find my gloves (I had misplaced them. Again). It was an act of desperation, and necessity. After going to the grocery store with purple wool socks on my hands, I was in serious need of a pick-me-up. And a pair of gloves.

Sometimes you feel like a nut. Sometimes, when the weather drops to a blistering thirty degrees, you feel like a fancy nut. Enter the rosemary and butter roasted walnut. When friends are coming over on a Saturday afternoon and you want to make something delicious and different in a pinch, it’s good to have a recipe like this handy; one that dresses up something simple and takes it to another level. These roasted walnuts are simple and special at the same time. Like dandelions growing out of concrete sidewalks, or handwritten thank-you notes.



There is a surprising amount of complexity happening in these nuts: rosemary brings out their earthiness, butter provides a sweet, decadent flavor, and a dose of cayenne pepper adds unexpected heat. I scraped the leftover bits from the pan, trying to get every ounce of tastiness that I could. These salty, spicy, sweet walnuts kept my winter blues at bay, and even made me feel better about wearing wool socks on my hands. There's nothing nutty about a recipe like that.


Butter and Rosemary Roasted Walnuts

Ingredients
2 C walnut halves
2 1/2 Tbs unsalted butter
2 tsp dried rosemary, crushed
1/2 tsp cayenne pepper
1 tsp salt

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Put butter in baking dish, and melt in oven (3 to 5 minutes). Remove baking dish from oven, and place walnuts in the dish, coating evenly with melted butter. Add rosemary, cayenne and salt, and mix. Roast in oven for ten minutes. Serve warm.

These nuts keep for three days, but I prefer them straight out of the oven.

Indian Butter Chicken

Have I got a chicken recipe for you.



It all started last Sunday, when I met Amman, a very cool guy I was working on a freelance project with. Amman casually throws around phrases like “Search Engine Optimization” and “Blog content.” He has a few things to teach me about the powers of the Internet as they relate to writers from the stone age, who still keep a box of sharpened number two pencils at their desks (writers like me). But I have to say, the most important lesson Amman imparted at our meeting was how to make a proper Indian Butter Chicken. In fact, all talks of web design went out the window when he told me about this recipe and the wonderfully eccentric chef behind it, who you can check out here

I have a thing for Indian food. I love how the spices give a dish as simple as chicken in tomato sauce a jolt of exoticism. As if to say, “let’s make some magic.” I also have a thing for yoga, Jhumpa Lahiri and cows who walk around the streets undisturbed. I could have been Indian in another life (I also have a thing for reincarnation).

I know a fair share of you loathe Indian food, and I think that’s because you haven’t ordered the right things - or you're too afraid of curry. I admit, curry throws me off, too. Butter Chicken is very much like my favorite dish, Chicken Tikka Masala (which has no curry). If you like Indian food, Chicken Tikka Masala is probably your favorite dish, too. It's the Chicken and Broccoli of Indian food.

Amman's Butter Chicken replaces curry with cumin, coriander, ginger garlic paste and garam masala – the sorts of ingredients you need to go a special store to obtain. One that plays foreign music and has bundles of house-made tea and food you can’t pronounce. After Amman and I discussed blogging basics, he took me to a hole-in-the wall Indian spice store in the East Village who boasted the world’s hottest chili pepper. Amman bought one for a dollar, but I was too afraid. I hope he fared OK.

There was a big to-do when I got home, as I laid all my spices on the counter. David and I marveled at the bags, wondering what each spice smelled like and what we were going to do with it all. I have since learned that Fenugreek leaves do not keep well, so sadly, you'll probably have to throw out whatever you don't use here.

I have never fathomed making Indian food myself, for fear that I have no knack whatsoever at working with cumin seeds and masala powder. But this recipe is so simple and clear it its directives, it’s pretty impossible to screw up. And the final product is impressive. Like, "Damn this is delicious and I can't believe I actually made it" impressive. My Butter Chicken looked exactly like something I would get in an Indian restaurant, and I dare say, tasted better than some of the best Masala I've ever had. Maybe it was the house-blend garam masala from the secret spice store with the world's hottest chili. Or perhaps it was the Western addition of ketchup. Who knows. There was so much goodness going on here, I couldn’t pinpoint the deliciousness to one particular ingredient. All I know is, this dish is good. So, so good. And I am very glad I met Amman.




Indian Butter Chicken
Adapted from Sanjay Thumma

Note: It seems Indian chefs don't believe in measurements. They're of the "a handful of this" a "pinch of that" variety. For those of us afraid of overdoing the cumin and coriander, Amman has graciously provided measurements. Follow this recipe exactly, and you will have one fine Butter Chicken.

Ingredients
1 ½ lb boneless, skinless chicken breast, sliced into two-inch strips
1 large, white onion, roughly chopped
3 Tbs olive oil (vegetable or canola will work, too)
2 Tbs ginger-garlic paste, divided PLUS an additional 2 tsp, divided
1 Tbs red chili powder PLUS an additional tsp, divided
1 Tbs coriander powder PLUS an additional tsp, divided
1 tsp cumin seeds
A handful of dried Fenugreek leaves
1 14.5 oz can of crushed or diced tomatoes
half a stick of unsalted butter
1/2 c heavy cream
2 Tbs ketchup
1 tsp sugar
2 Tbs salt, divided
1 tsp garam masala

Place chicken in a bowl and add 2 tablespoons of ginger garlic paste, 1 Tbs red chili powder, 1 Tbs coriander powder and 1 Tbs salt. Mix together and set aside. Heat oil in sauce pan or Dutch oven on Medium-High heat. Once hot, add chicken. Cook chicken in pan for 3-5 minutes, making sure it does not cook all the way through. It will cook fully once it’s submerged in the sauce. Remove the chicken from the pan without taking the oil out. This is important, because the leftover oil flavors the sauce immensely. Place chicken on a plate to the side. The oil remaining in the pan should be a rich brown in color – if it’s not, add more coriander powder. With the oil and spices still in the pan, add cumin seeds, onions, 2 tsp of ginger-garlic paste and 4-6 oz water to thin the sauce a bit. Stir for five minutes, then add 1 tsp coriander powder and 1 tsp red chili powder. Take Fenugreek leaves and rub them in your hands over the pot, so they form a powder. Finally, add the tomatoes. Cover sauce and let boil for 5 minutes. Remove the cover, and let sit for at least 10 minutes. This is critical, because hot liquids expand in blenders, and you’ll end up with a huge, steamy mess if you don’t let the sauce cool substantially before blending it. Once the sauce is moderately cool, pour it into the blender and run on high for a minute or two. You can also leave the sauce in the pan and use an immersion blender – just pour it into a bowl when you’re done. Add half a stick of butter to the empty pan, over medium-low heat. Take the chicken that has been sitting on the plate and drain the water/oil back into the pan. Add the sauce back into the pan. Add 2-4 more oz of water to the sauce to give it a silky, medium consistency. Add remaining Tbs salt, sugar, ketchup and heavy cream. Finally add the chicken back in to the pan, and sprinkle And add garam masala into the sauce. Stir and cook, covered for 10-15 minutes.

A Serious Soup

I’m afraid to say it out loud.

Yesterday, I woke up with a sore throat. And the sniffles. It pains me to admit this, but I think a cold is coming on. The temperature has dropped. It may even be time for gloves. David and I stepped outside the apartment this morning and both exclaimed “Ohhh” in that same sort of high pitched voice that can only signify a drastic change in the weather. On the subway, I’ve seen one too many people sneezing.

The situation calls for a serious soup.

When I was little, my brothers and I secretly loved being sick. At the first sign of a fever, our mom called the school, tucked us back into bed and set about making chicken soup. For lunch, a bowl of steaming soup and a glass of orange juice was brought to us in bed on a hideous red plastic structure that we lovingly referred to as the sick tray (my parents still have it). A cold was our only excuse to skip a meal at the table, and the three of us quietly rejoiced in being bundled under the covers watching cartoons while mom tended to us. If only sick days were still like that. There’s really nothing better than being taken care of, and no matter how old I get, I don’t think there’s anything my parents can’t make all right. I feel the same way about soup. It’s the first thing I turn to at the hint of a cold, and the one sick-day tradition I continue to embrace (besides being cranky). It’s sort of impossible not to feel better after a bowl of soup. Its curative powers are endless.

Yesterday, before coffee and without being fully awake, I turned to the soup section of my Gourmet Cookbook (yes, I use this book all the time – that’s because it is truly the only cookbook one could ever need). This recipe for Kale and White Bean soup was exactly what I needed: it's hearty and full of stuff that's good for you - like kale. Now, I’ve had some problems with kale in the past. It’s not a vegetable I normally turn to. It’s bitter if you don’t sautee or steam it, and really, who wants to sautee or steam something that looks like lettuce but doesn’t taste as good? It has to be said, though, that kale is a superfood – loaded with antioxidants and vitamin C, it’s as good as warding off a virus better than any medicine I can think of. Plus, it’s something green that is also in season in the winter. That’s pretty super, too, if you ask me. The kale takes on a rich, meaty flavor in this soup, brought about by onions and garlic. I dare say, I may be a kale convert - as long as I have a soup recipe that pairs it with Parmesan cheese. A rind of Parmesan cheese is the standout ingredient in this soup. It disperses strands of sharp flavor throughout the broth.

A couple notes: the original recipe calls for draining the beans for eight hours. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have eight hours to watch a bunch of beans drain. To do this quickly, place the beans in a saucepan with two inches of water. Bring water to a boil for two minutes, remove from heat and leave uncovered for one hour, then drain and rinse. This may result in simmering the beans in your broth for a longer period of time (as I experienced), but it is a surefire way to get them soup-ready in a hurry.

Also, I did not have the requisite five cups of chicken stock. I had four (most store-bought cartons of stock hold four cups, and I didn’t want to buy an extra one). My aunt, the professional cook responsible for this uses water when she’s short on stock. If it's good enough for her, it's good enough for me. I substituted one cup of water for the missing cup of chicken stock, and the soup is still extremely flavorful. And of course, vegetable stock can be used in place of chicken stock.

Kale + White Bean Soup
Adapted from The Gourmet Cookbook

Ingredients
1 lb dried white beans. I prefer cannellini.
2 medium Spanish onions, coarsely chopped
2 Tbs olive oil
4 garlic cloves, finely chopped
5 c low-sodium chicken broth
8 c water
1 (3 x 2-inch) piece Parmigiano-Reggiano rind (make sure there’s a little bit of cheese still attached to it.
2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp black pepper
1 Turkish bay leaf
1 tsp finely chopped fresh rosemary
8 carrots, peeled and cut into 1/2 inch pieces.
1 lb kale, stems and center ribs discarded and leaves roughly chopped.

Prepare beans as indicated above and set aside. Heat oil in an 8-quart soup pot over moderately low heat. Add onions to oil and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, 4 to 5 minutes. Add garlic and cook, stirring, 1 minute. Add beans, broth, 4 c water, cheese rind, salt, pepper, bay leaf, and rosemary. Simmer, uncovered, until beans are just tender, 50 minutes or up to an hour and 10 minutes. Stir carrots into soup and simmer 5 minutes. Stir in kale, and remaining 4 c of water and simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until kale is tender, 12 to 15 minutes. Season soup with salt and pepper, and sprinkle with freshly grated Parmesan.

Note: This soup tastes best made 1 or 2 days ahead.

Something to Love

How do I put this delicately?

I’m not much of a football fan.

It’s not that I don’t get why other people enjoy it: I can appreciate the thrill of a touchdown, the feeling of community, the tears when someone really deserving wins a Heisman, the prophet that is Tim Tebow. It’s just that...I don’t know what the fuss is all about. People name their first born sons after football players, throw things out the window in fits of rage over a bad call, even get arrested in the name of their teams. There’s a jail in the Eagles’ stadium with its own presiding judge for crying out loud.

Having said all this, the man I love loves football. I think I’ve come a long way in terms of my understanding and – yes, I’ll say it – appreciation of the game. I met David in the Fall of 2007, smack in the middle of college football season. There are few things this man loves more than the South Carolina Gamecocks (this being one of them), and so I found myself cheering for the team on a number of chilly Saturdays at the Copper Door Tavern in Murray Hill. Admittedly, I found myself routing for the other team a lot of the time, because I didn’t know who was who. But I will say that seeing David's devotion to his team was not only endearing, it was inspiring. I don't think many people know that kind of love. Flash forward three years, and Steve Spurrier, Marcus Lattimore, Stephon Gilmore and Alshon Jeffery are household names for the both of us. I should also note that I date the kind of guy who would name his first-born after one of these guys, and may have promised a few people that he would.

Two weeks ago, when South Carolina beat Alabama in what I have been told (by some biased fans) was the most amazing game in the history of college football, I found myself jumping for joy in a Mississippi dive bar. If that’s not evidence of true love, I don’t know what is. I’ve even begun to understand phrases like “bump and run,” “drop back” and “fair catch,” and why people cheer even when their players have been tackled. It’s all about getting to the end zone.

Where am I going with all of this? I’ll tell you. For the past few years, I’ve embraced football by making it an excuse to have people over for snacks. We may like different teams - and some of us might not even like football - but we can all get behind good food. Sometimes I make bruscetta, sometimes I bake biscuits with cheddar cheese and dill, and once there were slow-cooked French Dips on baguettes (that was an important game). But I have never made anything that can hold a candle to David’s Game Day Chili. Leave it to a boy from the South to have a chili recipe so utterly perfect. It is a party of pinto beans, green chilies, paprika, hot sauce and a can of dark beer for good measure (if you ask me, I think this is the secret ingredient). Looking at this recipe for the first time, throwing all these ingredients together seems risky. There's a lot going on. But somehow, they all truly complement one another. This chili is also my favorite left over meal. Reheat it on a Sunday night to keep the blues at bay.

This chili makes every game more special: the touchdowns become more glorious, the high-fives more emphatic. Even if your team loses, you still feel like you’ve won.

Now that’s something to love.

David’s Game Day Chili
Adapted from the St. George Church Cookbook

I’ve been asked to give the recipe’s original creator, Arthur Dukes, a shout out. According to David, he’s a swell guy. And I can tell you he's one fantastic cook.

2 lbs. ground ground turkey
1 med. onion, chopped
3 to 4 garlic cloves, minced
2 (15-oz) cans pinto beans, rinsed and drained
3 (8-oz) cans tomato sauce
1 (12-oz) bottle dark beer (David likes Brooklyn Lager)
1 (14.5-oz) can beef broth
1 (6-oz) can tomato paste
1 (4.5-oz) can chopped green chilies
2 tablespoons chili powder
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
2 tsp. ground cumin
1 to 2 tsp ground red pepper
1 tsp paprika
1 tsp hot sauce

Cook first three ingredients in a Dutch oven over medium heat, stirring until meat crumbles and is no longer pink. Break up the meat with a wooden spoon to aid in the browning. Drain cooked meat in a colander. Combine meat, beans, and next 11 ingredients in a Dutch oven and bring to a boil. Reduce heat, and simmer for at least three hours. In our experience, the longer the chili simmers, the better. Last week, David started cooking at 11 am for a six o’clock kick off. It was the best chili yet.

I like my chili served over rice with a dollop of sour cream and some grated cheddar cheese. A slice or two of jalapeno pepper adds a nice kick, though this chili is plenty spicy for most people.

We Also Ate

An Ode to The South:

Oh Memphis, oh Oxford. You did me in with your fried foods and biscuits. Your ribs and hush puppies here were the best I’d ever tasted. I loved your baked eggs and country ham with a biscuit and raspberry jam on the side here and your Southern fried catfish and sweet potato casserole here. Your fried chicken here was so crispy and heartwarming, I couldn’t stop searching for leftover bites, long after we’d eaten every last piece. Your coffee and chocolate chip cookies here felt like Christmas Eve.





And then there was the wedding, which was my very reason for visiting you in the first place. Jen and Buddy threw the perfect Southern wedding in Mississippi in a big old backyard decorated with twinkle lights. There was a New Orleans jazz band and sweet tea. We danced barefoot and sipped champagne. We also ate. Ham and biscuit sliders, potato salad with bacon, crab dip, an insanely amazing cream cheese and pepper jelly concoction and the most perfect angel food wedding cake with butter cream frosting.



Which brings me to fish. I loved every second of my adventure in the South, but I craved something simple when I got home. It was time to get my stomach back on track. No more pork, no more fried food, no more butter (well, of course a little bit of butter. Let’s be reasonable). I always turn to fish when I need something light but nourishing. Full disclosure: one of my favorite stores in our neighborhood is Fish Tales on Court Street. That’s why I love Brooklyn. Sure, we have one-stop shop grocery stores, but we also have fish stores. And bread stores. And bakeries. But I digress.

This recipe is one I come back to again and again in some form. It’s simple French fare, dressed up with herbs and lemon juice. There’s nothing too fussy about it, but paired with a glass of crisp wine it feels elegant. It’s a clean, fresh meal that won’t make you go straight to sleep (like every meal in the South made me do. Seriously. I could not stay awake).

I love fish with orzo or couscous, and a big fresh salad. While it delivers a satisfaction that I’ll say is…different than the “I just had the best barbecue and biscuits of my life” variety, I find it’s just what I need after a weekend of eating like I’m having my last meal at every meal.



Go, fish.

Trout with Lemon Butter and Herbs
Adapted from The Gourmet Cookbook

This recipe originally calls for Chilean Sea Bass, but I usually pick trout, sole or cod. Chilean Sea Bass is usually triple the price per pound, and over-fished to the point of being endangered. If you really want bass, opt for black sea bass or striped bass, which both come from the Atlantic ocean. A simple white fish works just fine here. And always make sure you buy wild, not farmed. If you need recommendations, I know a fantastic fish monger on Court street.

Ingredients:

1/3 c mixed fresh herbs such as parsley, dill, and chives
2 trout or other white fish fillets with skin (each about 7 ounces)
1 tsp olive oil
1 1/2 Tbs unsalted butter
1/3 c dry white wine (anything that you would want to drink)
1 Tbs fresh lemon juice

Preheat oven to 200 degrees. Chop herbs. Pat fish fillets dry and score just through skin in 4 places. Diagonally cut each fillet in half and season with salt and pepper. In a heavy skillet heat oil and 1 tablespoon butter over moderately high heat until foam subsides and sear fish, skin sides down, for roughly 3 minutes, until skin is golden. Turn fish over and cook 2 minutes more until just cooked through. Transfer fish to two oven-safe plates and put in the oven to stay warm. Remove skillet from heat and add wine to deglaze, scraping up brown bits with a wooden spoon. Stir in lemon juice, herbs, remaining 1/2 Tbs butter, and salt and pepper to taste. Spoon sauce over fish.

It was time for gnocchi

This weekend, it officially became Fall in New York City. The air turned crisp, the wind kicked up, and we had to burrow under the duvet to keep warm. By Sunday, I was in need of a meal with substance. It was time for something with gumption, something that fills you soul as much as it fills your stomach. It was time for gnocchi.



When it comes to pasta, I’m a buy-it-at-the-store sort of girl. The idea of actually making pasta myself conjures images of heavy contraptions, hours in the kitchen and results that probably aren’t as good as the packaged variety. That being said, I really, really wanted to try my hand at gnocchi. These tiny potato dumplings have an imperfect yet completely comforting quality to them – and making gnocchi is a much less daunting process than rolling out paper-thin strands of spaghetti dough. I think. I’d never had anything other than standard white potato gnocchi, and I found myself craving something with a twist. I stumbled upon this recipe for sweet potato gnocchi, and well, that was that. Flavored with a hint of nutmeg and a generous scoop of Parmesan, this gnocchi has a sweet and savory taste to it. Pair it with Frankie’s Spuntino’s sage butter sauce, and you’ve got something special. The sauce gives the gnocchi a gorgeous, buttery, almost nutty quality.

I was surprised by how much fun one can have with sweet potatoes. There’s something so satisfying about transforming an object into something completely different. And what’s more gratifying than mashing potatoes? This recipe called for a potato ricer, but the potatoes were so tender when they came out of the oven that a fork was all I needed to turn them into orange mush (and I use the term “mush” in the most endearing way). Also, I think mashing the sweet potatoes with a fork gives them an airier texture than you’d get from a ricer or food mill. After the sweet potatoes are mashed, they need to cool in an even layer on a sheet pan. Then they’re formed into dough with egg, flour, nutmeg, salt and pepper. Then they’re cut, rolled into ropes and then rolled into tiny balls. I bet you’ll never pay this much attention to sweet potatoes.



Know what else is fun? Shaping the balls of sweet potato dough with fork tines. Technically, the tines are meant to give the dough a twisty shape. This recipe makes a lot of gnocchi (six servings), so I had plenty of dough to practice with. I only got about ten really pretty pieces of gnocchi, but I consider that an accomplishment. Cooking the gnocchi is fun, too. The dough goes in the boiling water and announces when it’s ready to get out by rising to the surface. How assertive! All in all, the process takes about 2 1/4 hours. It’s a long time, but a perfect way to spend a Sunday. And it makes me think that even homemade spaghetti might be achievable – and maybe even fun.




Sweet Potato Gnocchi with Browned Sage Butter
Adapted from Gourmet and the Frankie’s Spuntino Cookbook

Ingredients

Gnocchi
1 1/4 pounds russet baking potatoes (about one large and one medium sized potato)
3/4 lb sweet potatoes (about three medium sized)
1 large egg
1/2 tsp grated nutmeg
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp ground black pepper
1/3 c grated Parmigiano Reggiano plus more for serving
1 c all-purpose flour plus more for dusting

Browned Sage Butter Sauce
4 Tbs unsalted butter
1/3 c extra-virgin olive oil
1 c sage leaves (from 1 bunch)
Salt and white pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 450°F with rack in middle. Pierce russet and sweet potatoes in several places with a fork, then bake in a sheet pan until just tender, 45 minutes to 1 hour. Cool potatoes slightly, then peel and mash with fork on sheet pan, spreading in an even layer. Cool potatoes completely. Lightly flour another large baking sheet or line with parchment paper. Beat together egg, nutmeg, salt, and pepper in a small bowl. Gather potatoes into a mound in sheet pan and form a well in center. Pour egg mixture into well, then knead into potatoes. Knead in cheese and 1/2 cup of flour, then knead, adding more flour as necessary, until mixture forms a smooth but slightly sticky dough. Dust top lightly with some of flour. Cut dough into six pieces. With floured hands, form 1 piece of dough into a 1/2-inch-thick rope on a lightly floured surface. Cut rope into 1/2-inch pieces. Gently roll each piece into a ball and lightly dust with flour. Repeat with remaining five pieces of dough. Turn a fork over and hold at a 45-degree angle, with tips of tines touching work surface. One at a time, roll gnocchi down fork tines, pressing with your thumb, to make ridges on one side. They should become more oval than round. Transfer gnocchi as formed to baking sheets. Refrigerate before use.

When you’re ready to make the gnocchi, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil.

Begin making the sauce. Melt olive oil and butter in a large skillet over medium heat until the butter begins to foam. Add sage leaves, and cook for about 1 to 2 minutes, or until the foam subsides. Heat about 4 minutes, until the butter becomes a golden brown. Reduce heat to low and remove sage leaves. I don’t like the taste of sage leaves, but if you do, feel free to leave them in the sauce. With the sauce on low heat, add half the gnocchi to boiling water and stir. Cook until they float to surface, about three minutes. Transfer with a slotted spoon to skillet with butter sauce. Don’t worry too much about draining the pasta. A little extra water will help thicken the sauce. Cook remaining gnocchi in same manner, transferring to skillet as cooked. Heat gnocchi in skillet over medium heat, stirring to coat. Serve sprinkled with grated Parmesan cheese.

I'm Nothing if Not Adaptable...

Last summer, my cousin and I spent a week in Barcelona. I loved every second of it – from the Gaudi artwork and the tucked away boutiques to the siestas and trips to the beach at dusk. Every morning, Paul and I had coffee and Iberian Jabugo (cured Spanish ham) sandwiches at Café Viena on La Rambla. They were impossible to get sick of. If you don’t believe me, take Mark Bittman’s word for it.

Like most European countries, food is the common denominator that unites Spaniards. They eat ham for breakfast and take hours-long lunch breaks. I think we can learn a thing or two from them. The best thing I took from that trip (and another one before it, in 2004) was paella. There’s something about sitting on a waterfront with the sun still shining at 8 pm, glass of white wine in hand, that makes you believe in magic. Add to that a steaming plate of seafood and rice and you’ve got yourself a perfect night. I love paella for its comfort, its crusty, burnt bits on the bottom of the pan (called soccorat in Spanish), and its possibilities. My idea of perfect paella combines shrimp, peas, peppers and chorizo. Yours might have mushrooms, mussels and ham. Or duck and green beans. Or rabbit and turnips! Paella is a blank canvas you can paint with whatever colors you choose. And it’s just about the most beautiful dish in the world.

Paella is a Catalan word derived from the Latin word for pan – patella. Traditionally, it’s cooked in this big polished steel contraption over an open fire. I don’t have the hardware, and my Brooklyn apartment doesn’t take kindly to open flames (Dave and I learned this the hard way when we tried to use our temperamental fire place one blisteringly cold night last February. We're still finding ashes in the living room). What I do have, however, is a fantastic one-hour paella recipe that cooks in a pasta pot and still produces my beloved soccorat. Admittedly, I was a bit skeptical about this dish missing an authentic Spanish quality. No magic paella pan? No open flame? What was I to do? Well, I’m nothing if not adaptable (I am the girl who ate Spanish ham sandwiches for breakfast every day in Barcelona, thank you very much). And so, I found that eating this paella with the Vicky Christina Barcelona soundtrack provided the touch of Spain I was looking for. It’s amazing what music can do. Note: this recipe supposedly yields four servings, but in actuality it can easily serve eight people. We had leftovers for a week, which tasted spectacular reheated. I am a big proponent of making paella for a crowd. I’m thinking a Spanish-themed dinner party with lots of sangria.

Paella with Artichokes, Shrimp and Chorizo
Adapted from Gourmet

Ingredients
3/4 pound cooked chorizo or linguiça sausage, cut into chunks
4 tablespoons olive oil
1 1-pound bag saffron rice. Note: saffron is always used in paella, but it’s expensive. I recommend a saffron rice, such as Vigo, to get the essence of the plant without spending a ton of money.
1 9-ounce package frozen artichoke hearts, thawed and drained (don’t use a fresh artichoke. It’s just too much work).
1 8-ounce jar roasted red peppers, drained and sliced
2 cups chicken stock, fish broth, or dry white wine (I prefer one cup of chicken stock and one cup of wine)
1 pound large shrimp, peeled and de-veined
1 cup frozen peas, defrosted

In a large skillet with a lid, brown the chorizo in the oil until crispy, about 5 minutes. Add the rice, artichoke hearts, peppers, broth or wine, and 2 cups of water. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat, cover, and simmer until most of the liquid is absorbed, about 20 minutes. Stir in the shrimp and peas. Cover and continue cooking until the shrimp are opaque, 5 to 7 minutes.

A "You've Got to See This" Moment

Have I mentioned I like bread? I can’t think of anything more wonderful than hot bread fresh from the oven smeared with salty butter (preferably this butter). I’m starting to wonder if this blog should be devoted to bread, since no other food seems to excite me as much. I think the photo below says it all.



Recently, I discovered the most wonderful, simplest way to make bread. I believe in it so much that I don’t think there’s any good reason not to make your own bread. All the time. Every day. I’ve tested out the no-knead bread method before here, but I I didn’t realize the importance of starting at the beginning (a very good place to start). Bread baking is something you need to get the hang of. This is a basic white, rustic bread, or boule adapted from Jim Lahey, founder of the Sullivan Street bakery in NYC – who henceforth, I will refer to as the bread genius. In his book, My Bread, Lahey provides the recipe for a straightforward, no nonsense loaf that’s unbelievably crusty on the outside and fluffy and chewy on the inside. Besides the requisite bread flour, yeast, salt and water, the major components to a successful no-knead bread are time (lots of it) and a durable Dutch Oven. Make sure you invest in a good Dutch Oven, such as Le Creuset or Lodge. Not only will you use it for everything from soups to baking, but the enamel can withstand a 500 degree oven. Trust me, I learned this the hard way.



The trick to a successful no-knead bread is leaving it alone. The dough needs to rest and rise for at least 12 hours, though I prefer 18. During winter months, it can be left alone for up to 24 hours. All in all, it’s a lot of waiting - but if you strategize, I bet you won’t even notice. I must admit, however, that every time I make this recipe, visions of fresh-baked bread dance through my head for hours at a time. The first time I made this bread, I began at 11 o’clock at night. By the time I came home from work the next evening, it was ready to slide in the oven. When the bread was done, it was a thing of beauty. I couldn’t believe I’d produced it - I felt like a proud parent. It was definitely a “you’ve got to see this” kind of moment. After baking this bread, you may want to call your friends over for a look. But only offer the special ones a taste.



The Basic No-Knead Bread
Adapted from Jim Lahey of the Sullivan Street Bakery

Ingredients
3 C bread flour – make sure you buy bread flour. Unlike all-purpose flour, bread flour has more protein, a necessary component to creating gluten. Bread flour makes for a chewier loaf.
1 1/4 tsp table salt
1/4 tsp instant or active drive yeast
1 1/3 C cool water (55 to 65 degrees)
Wheat bran, cornmeal, or additional flour for dusting.

In a medium bowl, stir together the bread flour, salt and yeast. Add the water and, using a wooden spoon or your hands, mix until you have a wet, sticky dough (about 30 seconds). The dough should be quite sticky to the touch. If it’s not, add another tablespoon or so of water. Cover the bowl with a plate, tea towel or plastic wrap and let it sit at room temperature (about 72 degrees F), out of direct sunlight, until the surface is dotted with bubbles and the dough is more than doubled in size. This will take a minimum of 12 hours and preferably up to 18 hours. The slow rise – fermentation – is key to flavor.

When the first fermentation is complete, generously dust a work surface, such as a cutting board, with flour (all-purpose or bread). Use a rubber spatula to scrape the dough onto the board in one piece. When you begin to pull the dough away from the bowl, it will cling in long, thin strands (that’s the developed gluten). It will be very loose and sticky, but do not add more flour. With lightly floured hands, lift the edges of the dough in towards the center. Nudge and tuck in the edges of the dough to make it round.

Place cotton or linen tea towel (not terry cloth, which tends to stick and may leave lint in the dough) and generously dust the cloth with wheat bran, cornmeal or flour. Using your hands or a bowl scraper, gently lift the dough onto the towel, so it is seam side down. If the dough is tacky, dust the top lightly with wheat bran, cornmeal or flour. Fold the ends of the towel loosely over the dough to cover it and place it in a warm, draft-free spot to rise for one to two hours. The dough is ready when it is almost doubled. If you delicately poke it with your finger, the dough should hold the impression. If it doesn’t, let it rise for another 15 minutes.

Half an hour before the end of the second rise, preheat the oven to 475 degrees F, with a rack in the lower third position. Place a covered Dutch oven in the center of the rack.

Using potholders, carefully remove the preheated pot from the oven and uncover it. Unfold the tea towel, lightly dust the dough with flour or bran, lift up the dough, either on the towel or in your hand, and quickly but gently invert it into the pot, seam side up. Be careful – the pot will be extremely hot. Cover the pot and bake for 30 minutes.

Remove lid and continue baking until the bread is a deep chestnut color but not burnt – about 15 to 30 minutes. Use a heatproof spatula or pot holders to carefully lift the bread out of the pot and place it on a rack to cool thoroughly (if you can resist eating it, which I cannot). Try not to slice or tear into the bread until it has cooled, which typically takes at least one hour. The operative word here is “try.”

A Little Pick-Me-Up

Monday is here, and with it comes sticky-hot weather and the prospect of a long, stressful work week ahead. For those of you who need a little pick-me-up, I thought I’d share my photos from Brooklyn Bastille Day.

In honor of French Freedom, Smith Street turned into the Champs Elysees yesterday. There was Lillet, Pentaque and Nutella crepes. My favorite bakery, One Girl Cookies supplied chocolate Whoopie pies and vanilla cupcakes. I couldn’t be in Paris for the real Bastille Day (which was last Tuesday), but this was the next best thing.




Me and my giant bottle of Ricard.


The Lillet watering hole.


Let the Pentaque tournament begin! I loved the player wearing the red bandanna. Tres chic.


Nothing sweeter than a Nutella crepe.


One of my favorite things! A One Girl Cookies chocolate whoopie pie.


Gorgeous cupcakes from One Girl Cookies.


Meeting this little guy was the perfect end to the day.

Feels Like Home

I suffer from Sunday night blues. There’s nothing more depressing than the end of a weekend – especially a beautiful summer weekend. Sometimes the blues start the moment I wake up on Sunday morning, when I realize there are only 12 more usable hours of the weekend left (six, depending on how late I’ve been out the night before). Luckily, there are several remedies for the end of the weekend blues. I can’t avoid Monday morning, but I find brunches, walks, yoga and movies to be highly curative pastimes. You know what else is? A great dinner. If you’re like me, Sunday night dinners remind you of big family meals, when everybody gets together. Sunday night dinners are fun and easy, as if you’re telling the weekend, “We ain’t through yet.” There are no rules to the Sunday night dinner, but I’d like to institute one guideline: the food should complement the company, not the other way around. In other words, it should not be a stressful activity for the cook.



Sunday night dinners have always been my dad’s thing. He plans them for days, and gets to the supermarket as soon as it opens Sunday morning. He’ll usually make something simple, like steak with spinach and baked potatoes, or barbecued chicken with fresh corn. My dad cooked Sunday night dinners for as long as I can remember. When I was in elementary school, his weeknight dinners usually consisted of peanut butter and Ritz crackers, with a Mallomar cookie for dessert. Dad got home long after we had eaten dinner and gotten ready for bed (though we always waited up for him). I think his initial love of the Sunday night meal came from that day being the one day during the week when it was guaranteed we’d eat dinner as a family. And now that he has plenty of time to cook, I still know how much he savors a meal with all of us. What I love even more than my dad’s cooking is that he knows who he’s cooking for. My mom, brothers and I never needed anything fussy. We were just happy to have our dad at the table. But at the same time, his food was – and is – consistently great. It’s perfect in its simplicity, flavorful but never overpowering. Full of life but not overbearing, just like him.



And that’s what I love about this dish. It’s the kind of dinner you’d want to have on a Sunday night, and in fact I’ve only ever made it on that day of the week. It’s true comfort food: hearty, warm and delicious. Maybe that’s just my mentality about pasta in general, but something about this dish keeps me coming back for more. Served with a good glass of wine and some nice company (be it a boyfriend, a best friend or anyone you love) it just makes Monday more bearable. No matter how far away you are from your family, this dinner feels like home.



Cavatelli with Spicy Sausage and Broccoli Rabe
Adapted from French Women Don’t Get Fat

Ingredients
1 box Cavatelli or other small pasta, such as Orecchiete
1/2 lb spicy sausage, removed from casings
1 lb broccoli rabe (be sure to trim the edges generously)
2 Tbs olive oil
1 small onion, diced
1 clove garlic, minced
1 1/2 to 2 C tomato sauce
1/3 C Pecorino Romano Cheese
Salt & Pepper to taste
Sprinkling of red pepper flakes
Chopped fresh parsley

Fill a large pot with water, and salt generously. Bring to a boil and cook pasta (about 8 minutes). Add broccoli rabe to cooking pasta and let everything boil for another three minutes. Drain, and set aside.
Meanwhile, heat olive oil in a large skillet and add onions and garlic. Simmer until the onions and garlic are softened and browned, about five minutes. Add sausage, and, breaking into bits with a wooden spoon, cook completely – about five to eight minutes. When sausage is cooked, add the pasta and broccoli rabe to the skillet. Stir to combine (you really want the pasta to soak up all the pan juices). Add tomato sauce and heat through, about 2-4 minutes. Garnish with the cheese, red pepper flakes and Parsley, and serve.

This meal feeds about 4 people, but Dave and I love making it for just the two of us and saving the leftovers. I reheated it last night and added some fresh chopped tomatoes and a bit of Feta cheese.

No Fear

Growing up, my best friend Karen and I loved brownies. We played this game where we would try to convince our moms to make us some by saying the other wanted a brownie. Juvenile? Yes (what can I say? We were 8!). Fool proof? Absolutely. My mother always gave in and made us brownies from Duncan Hines mixes - which I don’t begrudge her for. Those mixes are pretty damn good.

You learn by example, and because my mom favored Duncan Hines mixes for baked goods, so did I. As far as brownies went, I found that a box of brown ingredients, an egg and some vegetable oil yielded gooey, perfectly chocolate squares every time.



Yet something about the mass market brownie always struck me as a little, I don’t know...artificial. The brownies tasted the same every time, with no real texture or sense of homemade-ness (they were never chocolatey enough, either). I didn't dare to make them any other way, though, because when you rely on mixes for most of your life, baking simple things like cakes, brownies and biscuits from scratch seems downright terrifying. But that was the old me. The new me has no fear of measuring flour, salt and sugar.




Enter The Moosewood Cookbook, a delightful collection of handwritten, oh-so-simple and tasty vegetarian recipes. It's an invaluable resource for people like me, who just want to cook great food. Though I plan on cooking may way through the book, I have to say the dessert section looks to die for. I’m particularly obsessed with this fudge brownie recipe. The ingredients on their own make for one spectacular brownie, while the addition of fun things like pecans (for crunch) and coffee (for flavor). Remember people, no fear.

Pecan Fudge Brownies
Adapted from The Moosewood Cookbook

Ingredients
1/2 lb (two sticks) butter, softened (don’t melt it)
4 oz of unsweetened chocolate. I like Ghirardelli. One baking bar is 4 oz.
1 3/4 c packed light brown OR granulated sugar
1 c flour (3/4 c for fudgier brownies)
5 eggs
1 1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract
1 C chopped pecans
2 Tbs strong black coffee

Optional additions: chopped walnuts, 1 tsp fresh orange or lemon zest, 1/2 tsp allspice or cinnamon, one mashed over-ripe banana.





Preheat oven to 350 degrees, and butter a 9x13-inch baking pan.

Melt the chocolate in a double broiler. If you’re like me and don’t have one, place broken pieces of chocolate in a Pyrex bowl, and put over a saucepan of boiling water. Don’t fill saucepan to the top with water, as it will burn the chocolate. The steam – not the water – will melt the chocolate.
Set chocolate aside.

In a mixer, cream the butter with 1 3/4 cups (packed) light brown or granulated sugar. Add eggs on low speed, one at a time. Add 1 1/2 tsp. pure vanilla extract. Beat in the melted, cooled chocolate and 1 cup flour. Stir in pecans and coffee until just blended.

Spread batter into baking pan, and bake 20-30 minutes. I found that it’s easiest to cut brownies right after you take them out of the oven. Just wear your mits! After cutting, let brownies cool completely before removing from the pan.

Here To Stay

I’ve made a resolution. From now on, when it gets hot outside – I mean unbearably, sticky, I-need-three-air-conditioners-in-my-living-room hot – I will make soup. Sounds counterproductive, I know, but I’m talking about chilled soup. It’s the easiest, most delicious way to beat the heat. I especially love this chilled tomato basil soup I concocted in my blender. It’s short on ingredients and prep time, but long on flavor and sustenance.

I don’t know about you, but I have an aversion to the oven during the summer. I need to avoid any and all things that make my apartment more stifling. I usually make sandwiches and salads and rely on other people to make my food (Bless you, delivery men of Brooklyn). But there’s something to this whole chilled soup idea. It’s healthy, fresh and satisfying. I think I’ve got a winner with this particular chilled soup. Is there anything better in the summer than tomatoes and basil? I don’t think so. I may even try chilled fruit soups, which were pretty popular back in the day but seem to have fallen out of favor in recent decades. I guess they went out with Jackie O. and dumbwaiters. In any case, this soup is here to stay.

I’m never starving when it’s really hot out, so I consider this a fantastic lunch. When I’m hungrier, I’d serve this as a first course at a barbecue or picnic. Oh, and the addition of Greek yogurt at the end packs a decadent punch. Feel free to omit it if you want, but I love the slightly creamy texture it adds.

Chilled Tomato Basil Soup

This is a very loose recipe, open for interpretation. If you’ve got a blender and some vegetables, you’ve got yourself some chilled soup.

Ingredients
4 Vine-ripened tomatoes, quartered
1/4 of a small onion (don’t worry about chopping, as it will all get blended later)
3 Tbs Extra Virgin Olive Oil
3 Tbs Red Wine Vinegar
2 C chopped fresh basil, plus more for garnish
Dollop of Greek yogurt

Put tomatoes, onion, olive oil and 2 Tbs of vinegar in blender. I found that it’s best to pulse all the ingredients, rather than blend at a high speed. Otherwise, the soup turns into a pink mush. Yuck. When blended, run ingredients through a sieve to get rid of tomato skins. They don’t particularly bother me, so I skipped this part. Pour soup into a large plastic container, and stir in Greek yogurt. Chill for up to eight hours. Serve with fresh basil on top.

Quite an Endorsement

I don’t think there’s anything more fantastic in the summer than a big bowl of blueberries. I eat them in the morning, sprinkled over a bowl of cereal with soy milk. I eat them mixed with Greek yogurt or whipped cream. I love them in pie, and especially in this pound cake. While this moist, lemony concoction is delicious on its own, the addition of blueberries make it sublime, even fancy.

I brought this cake to the summer house of a friend’s parents in Connecticut. I’m always wary of bringing a never-before-tried-by-me recipe to strangers, but I figured there was little harm a pound cake could do. I unveiled the cake on Saturday afternoon (we ate it after a damn good Chinese Chicken salad, courtesy of Cynthia Rothstein). It was nearly gone by the next day. This was a big cake, too, so I consider it an official success. It was even brought over to the neighbors. That’s quite an endorsement.

The great thing about pound cake is that it works for any meal. It makes a lovely weekend breakfast, lingered over the New York Times and dunked in coffee. It’s one of the best desserts after a barbecue or picnic. It’s a perfect late-night treat, washed down with a cold glass of milk. And it’s a wonderful snack to bring on a boat, too. How nice would it be to anchor a boat in the middle of a lake, pull out a good book and dig in to a piece of blueberry pound cake? Pretty nice.

This cake gave me an excuse to buy my very first bundt cake pan. Sure, visions of My Big Fat Greek Wedding flashed before my eyes (remember that scene where Jon Corbett’s parents bring a “boondt” cake to his new in-laws?), and I sort of felt like a 1950s housewife, but I have to say, thus bundt cake pan makes me feel grown up. Sophisticated. That’s partially because I purchased it at Williams Sonoma, which just screams ADULTHOOD.

It’s kind of fun to have a cake pan for one specific purpose. It’s not like a pot or a muffin tin that you can make anything in. The bundt cake pan is designed to make one thing and it is a thing of beauty. I happened to take a tour of Sarabeth’s Bakery at Chelsea market a few weeks ago, and quite fortuitously, I learned that one must “butter the life” out of a bundt cake pan. Flour it for all it’s worth, too. There’s really no way you can pry this kind of cake out of its pan, so remember: Butter. Flour. When you think you’ve done too much, add a little bit more.

It wouldn’t be fair to give the blueberries all the credit for making this cake so spectacular. The lemon (extract, juice and zest) provided a welcome tartness that balances the sweet berries and the..ahem..three cups of sugar. The lemon flavor makes you do a double take on that first bite, and could likely prompt one to say, “Wow! Lemons!” I plan to use some form of lemon in all my future pound cakes. I also plan to bring some form of pound cake to all the new people I am trying to impress.

P.S. Dave, wonderful Dave, got me a Kitchen Aid mixer for my birthday! I'm in love - with him, and with it. This is the very first thing I've made with the mixer, and I'm never looking back.

Blueberry Pound Cake
Adapted from The Moosewood Cookbook

Note: This cake yielded a ton of batter. It took about an hour and ten minutes to cook through in my oven. Though the recipe says to bake the cake for 55-65 minutes, I would allow for a bit more time. Just check the cake frequently, and tent it with foil if it starts to brown.

Ingredients
4 sticks of softened butter
3 c. sugar
6 eggs
4 c. flour
1 Tbs baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 c. whole milk
2 tsp lemon extract
1/4 c fresh lemon juice
1 tsp lemon zest
2 c plus 1 handful of blueberries

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter and flour the entire bundt cake pan. No scrimping!
In a mixer on high speed cream together butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time, beating well (either by hand or with the mixer on low speed) after each. Set mixture aside.

Whisk together the dry ingredients in a separate bowl. Mix together the milk, lemon extract, lemon juice and lemon zest. Add dry and wet ingredients alternately to butter mixture, beginning and ending with dry. Gently fold blueberries into the mixture.

Spread the batter into the prepared bundt cake pan. Bake 50-65 minutes, or up to 1 hour and 15 minutes, depending on your oven. Allow cake to cool for 10 minutes in the pan, then turn out onto a plate. Cool completely before serving.

A sprinkling of confectioner's sugar and scattered berries are nice additions when serving this cake on a special occasion. But I think it's pretty special on its own.

Worth Repeating

Wow. I had not planned for these last few weeks to slip away from me. I have been overwhelmed and have not had much free time to cook or write – a fact that makes me terribly sad. Last Sunday was Mother’s Day, so I finally got the chance to get back into the kitchen. As a matter of fact, it was more like an obligation. When mom says, “bring something sweet” you do as your told. I’m kind of impressed at how far I’ve come with home cooking. A year ago, I likely would have brought an Entenmann’s pound cake to the family dinner. Actually, I think I did. Yet these days, the farmer’s market and the stove are my favorite places to be. I don’t really know what brought on the change. Perhaps it was moving in with Dave and wanting to create a home - nothing does that better than the smell of something delicious baking in the oven. Anyway, I hope the cooking bug is here to stay. And as far as time is concerned, I’ll just have to make it.

I had been meaning to make something with rhubarb since I saw the first signs of spring sprouting in the beginning of April. But this whole month has been a wash, hasn’t it? Everybody talks about rhubarb in the spring...I suspect there are a lot of people out there who liken it to Paris (and many a Frenchman – and woman – who eat it by the stalk). I had never, ever made anything with rhubarb before, but was inspired by a recent meal at Pies and Thighs that concluded with a perfect slice of strawberry rhubarb pie. Now, I know this isn’t a full-fledged rhubarb endeavor, but I am convinced after seeing all the rhubarb desserts on the Internet that this root is meant to be eaten with strawberries. The sweetness of the berries complements the rhubarb’s tart taste.



I haven’t experimented with pies yet (though I did buy a nice pie pan several months ago, and it would be nice to tell Dave, “see? I DID use it!”) Instead, I opted for a crumble. It’s a lot less fussy than pie, but maintains all of the buttery, crunchy texture of a traditional crust. I got a kick out of sprinkling all the doughy globs of crumble dough onto the berries and rhubarb. They heat up so nicely in the oven, and make a wonderful outer shell to the fruit. The dough had plenty of lemon zest, which added a citrusy zing to the dish. In this way, it was similar to the base of lemon bars - which I love so, so much. I imagine it would be the perfect base for any crumble (I can’t wait to try apple and pear in the Fall), which I suspect I will be making a lot of. Anything this easy and delicious is worth repeating again and again.



Strawberry Rhubarb Crumble
Adapted from Smitten Kitchen
Ingredients for the topping:
1 1/3 c flour
1 tsp baking powder
3 Tbs sugar
3 Tbs Sugar in the Raw
Zest of one lemon
1/4 pound (1 stick or 4 ounces) unsalted butter, melted

Ingredients for the filling:
2 c rhubarb, chopped into 1-inch pieces
1 quart strawberries plus an extra handful, quartered
Juice of one lemon
1/2 c sugar
4 Tbs cornstarch
Pinch of salt

Heat oven to 375°F. In a mixing bowl, combine flour, baking powder, sugars and lemon zest and add the melted butter. Mix until small and large clumps form. Refrigerate until needed. Next, prepare the filling: toss rhubarb, strawberries, lemon juice, sugar, cornstarch and a pinch of salt in your casserole dish or pie plate. This saves you the trouble of using another mixing bowl. Remove topping from refrigerator and cover fruit thickly and evenly with topping. Place pie plate on a foil-lined baking sheet, and bake until crumble topping is golden brown in places and fruit is bubbling underneath, about 40 to 50 minutes.

Serves 6 to 8.

The Sweetest Part of All

I can’t think of anything better than a good piece of chocolate cake washed down with a glass of cold milk. Chocolate cake is for celebrations, for comfort, for rainy days and for rooftop picnics. For good days, and especially for bad ones. It erases a lousy meal and sends a good one over the moon. If Marie Antoinette had specified chocolate cake in her famous declaration, perhaps things wouldn’t have ended so badly for her.

I believe there are a few things everyone should have: a spare set of house keys, a book they never get sick of reading, a stellar Chinese restaurant on speed dial. Everyone should also have a chocolate cake recipe so simple they can make it from memory (and in one bowl), yet so decadent and lovely that it is quite easily the life of any party. Everyone should have this chocolate cake. It’s perfect. Light and moist, with a chocolate flavoring that tastes rich but isn’t overpowering. Substantial, but not dense. It’s the kind of chocolate cake that you may have had at a childhood birthday, when your biggest problem was making sure you pinned the tail on the donkey. This cake is definitely a happy memories kind of cake, a “when things were simple” kind of cake. I love food that tastes like childhood and feels like coming home. What could be better?



The secret to great chocolate cake is a cup of coffee. Stick with me. The bitterness of the coffee balances all the sweet ingredients, yet truly brings out the chocolate here. If you hate coffee, a cup of boiling water works just fine – but you won’t get the same depth of flavor.

I made three 8-inch cakes and spread some peanut butter frosting between each one. This chocolate cake is a wonderful building block for frosting. Vanilla or chocolate butter cream would be wonderful. I made my frosting with a cup of chunky peanut butter mixed with about a cup of powdered sugar, a teaspoon of vanilla and a splash of milk. Use a beater to fluff everything up.



Like I mentioned before, you only need one bowl to make this cake. I think the easy clean-up may be the sweetest part of all.

Dark Chocolate Cake
Adapted from a classic Hershey’s Recipe

Ingredients
2 c white sugar
1 3/4 c cake flour
3/4 c cocoa powder
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
2 eggs
1 c milk
1/2 c vegetable oil
2 tsp vanilla extract
1 c hot coffee

Heat oven to 350°F. Butter and flour two 9-inch round baking pans, or three 8-inch round baking pans.

Stir together sugar, flour, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda and salt in a large mixer bowl. Add eggs, milk, oil and vanilla; stir rapidly for 2 minutes. Mix in coffee - the batter will be quite thin. Pour batter into prepared pans. Bake 30 to 35minutes or until wooden pick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool 10 minutes on a wire rack, then tap the cakes out of the pans. Cool completely before frosting.

Makes two 9-inch round cakes or three 8-inch round cakes.

That Good

I’m coming down from the high of an incredible weekend in South Carolina. I’m going through beach, food and all-together loveliness withdrawal. Dave and I headed down for our friends Eric and Signe’s wedding. It was truly beautiful. I was so impressed with all the personal touches E&S incorporated into the ceremony – from journals as party favors to cigar-box centerpieces overflowing with gorgeous green plants. One of my favorite things about the wedding was the food. It was all locally sourced, and all delicious. We had crab cakes and shrimp and grits, chicken stuffed with feta and spinach, butternut squash ravioli and the most exquisite simple salad of mixed greens, Mozzarella and basil. And the red velvet cake: oh, the red velvet cake.

Even though they weren’t in season, I was able to score a bag of boiled red peanuts on the road from this guy Boiled peanuts are the best Southern staple I can think of. Salty and soft, they remind me of porch swings and Bud Light Limes at Dave’s beach house on the Isle of Palms.

I’ll be sure to post pictures from our Southern journey soon. In the meantime, I thought I’d give you this recipe for classic Caesar salad inspired by two New York staples: Frank Falcinelli and Frank Castronovo. Nobody does comfort Italian food better than these guys, as the perpetual lines outside their two Brooklyn establishments, Frankie’s 457 and Prime Meats, indicate. I was thrilled to receive an advanced copy of their Kitchen Companion, on sale in June. While I can’t wait to try all of the recipes in their book, I was particularly taken with their recipe for Caesar salad dressing. I’ve always wanted to make homemade Caesar salad, but feared the process was reserved for stuffy maitre’d’s and people who knew how to make raw eggs safe to eat (I am not one of those people). This dressing doesn’t use eggs at all, but instead relies on good old-fashioned Hellman’s mayonnaise, white pepper, and Pecorino Romano cheese for flavor. A few drops of Tabasco and Worcestershire sauce provide a subtle punch. It could not be simpler to make: all the ingredients are thrown into a blender, and the result is a creamy, silky dressing that rivals anything you would get in a swanky restaurant.



I’ve heard that a truly good dressing is one you’d want to drink all by itself. Well, this dressing is that good. I confess I “tasted it for flavor” by the spoonful. That being said, Caesar dressing – and any salad dressing - should be drizzled lightly over greens. Every leaf must be covered, but your salad should never be drowning in liquid - however delicious that liquid may be.

I decided to try my hand at making croutons, too. Because what's Caesar salad without croutons? I had a day-old whole wheat baguette that I put in the oven at 350 degrees for about seven minutes. Then I cut it up into squares, and toasted everything in a pan over medium heat with olive oil and chopped garlic. The croutons added substance to the lettuce and made for a pretty hearty meal. They weren't hard as rocks, as many croutons tend to be, yet still maintained a crunchy, toasty texture.

A sprinkle of grated Pecorino Romano and a generous squeeze of lemon juice were the perfect finishing touches. This salad makes a great appetizer and a surprisingly filling lunch.

Simple Caesar Salad

Whole Wheat Croutons
Ingredients
Day-old whole wheat baguette
1 Tbs olive oil
1 to 2 cloves garlic, minced

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Toast baguette for roughly 7 minutes. Remove from oven and cool. Chop bread into bite-size pieces. Heat olive oil in small skillet over medium heat. Add garlic and sautee for one minute. This will infuse the olive oil. Garlic burns easily, so be careful not to overcook. Add bread pieces to pan and toast for five minutes, making sure the bread is coated evenly on all sides. Remove from heat and let cool while you prepare the dressing.



Caesar Dressing
Adapted from The Frankie's Spuntino Kitchen Companion & Cooking Manual

Ingredients
1/3 c grated Pecorino Romano, plus additional cheese for serving
1/2 c Hellman's mayonnaise
1/4 c water
1 1/2 tsp red wine vinegar
1 garlic clove
1/4 tsp Worcestershire sauce
1/4 tsp Tabasco
8 turns freshly ground white pepper
Fine sea salt, if needed (this dressing will already be quite salty because of the red wine vinegar and Worcestershire)
Freshly ground black pepper

Combine 1/4 c of the Pecornio Romano with all the ingredients, except the black pepper, in a blender and puree 'til the dressing is smooth. If you don't have a blender, mince the garlic and whisk them together with the rest of the dressing ingredients. Taste and addL salt if necessary; loosen the dressing with water if needed.

Drizzle lightly over crisp, chilled Romaine hearts. You'll likely have a large portion of leftover dressing. Squeeze fresh lemon juice over greens. Toss and serve.

A Serious Cookie

OK, back to the butter. I have discovered the secret to absolutely perfect chocolate-chip cookies. It’s actually not butter (though undoubtedly, the butter only improves things). It’s salt – and lots of it. A whole teaspoon and a half, plus more for later. A couple weeks ago, my friend Sarah and I were at our friend Becca’s place, watching DVR’d episodes of Sixteen and Pregnant – television at its finest, I know – when Sarah asked Becca to make NY Times cookies. Rare is the friend who bakes cookies from scratch on request. And because these cookies were truly outstanding, Becca gets my vote for friend of the year.



Back to the story: I had no idea what New York Times cookies were, but I was told they are just about the best chocolate chip cookies on the planet. Thus began my journey into the mysterious world of salt and cookies. An unlikely pair, one would think. But writer David Leite was onto something when he wrote his recipe for the Times. It’s a bit of a hodgepodge of tips from the best bakeries in New York, not to mention some expert advice from famed chocolatier Jacques Torres. We’re in good hands.

These are the best homemade chocolate chip cookies I’ve ever had. Yes, they filled my apartment with the most amazing smell and took me back to childhood bake sales. And they’re certainly the kind of cookies that you can’t walk away from (I really tried, too, but there was nothing more appealing last weekend than these cookies. Indeed, “Meh, I’d rather eat cookies” was the response to every proposition that came my way). But these cookies go beyond all that. I’m not sure what it is. All I can say is that they’re sophisticated, grown up cookies. They’re not kidding around. I suspect one can chalk this up to the cake flour and bittersweet chocolate, as well as the 24-hour chilling period called for in the recipe. That’s bound to make anything somewhat serious.

I followed the recipe to the letter, with the exception of the Kitchenaid - more on that later. I even withstood the interminable 24 hour Big Chill. Read the Times article to find out the science – literally – behind the chilling process. Becca made her cookies right away. There was no discernible difference in deliciousness, but the textures were pretty contrasting: Becca’s cookies were thinner and crisper, while mine were cakey and thick. I don’t think one can be described as better, though. I’m quite diplomatic as far as these cookies are concerned.



I still don’t have a Kitchenaid Mixer (SAD), so blending the butter and sugars was a challenge to say the least (though quite the arm workout, I must say). I softened the butter in the microwave for about 20 seconds, and my wooden spoon and I went with God. I didn’t want to compromise the original recipe, which calls for a mixer, so I’ve left that part intact here. But those of you without one shouldn’t be afraid. These cookies are perfectly achievable with the old fashioned hand and spoon method. Just beat until all the ingredients are evenly incorporated.

Tips: After the dough has been chilled, let it rest at room temperature for a while before scooping - a half an hour is a good amount of time. And be sure to sprinkle sea salt on the cookies before and after baking. You'll be glad you did.

Chocolate Chip Cookies with Sea Salt
Adapted from The New York Times

Ingredients
2 c minus 2 Tbs cake flour (scoop it out of the measuring cup)
1 2/3 c bread flour
1 1/4 tsp baking soda
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1 1/2 tsp coarse salt
2 1/2 sticks (1 1/4 c) unsalted butter
1 1/4 c light brown sugar
1 c plus 2 Tbs granulated sugar
2 large eggs
2 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/4 pounds bittersweet chocolate chips, with at least 60 percent cacao content. Ghirardelli is a nice brand.
Sea salt.

Sift flours, baking soda, baking powder and salt into a bowl. Set aside.

Using a mixer fitted with paddle attachment (or not!) cream butter and sugars together until very light, about 5 minutes. Add eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Stir in the vanilla. Reduce speed to low, add dry ingredients and mix until just combined, 5 to 10 seconds. Add chocolate chips and mix. Press plastic wrap against dough and refrigerate for 24 to 36 hours. Dough may be used in batches, and can be refrigerated for up to 72 hours.

When ready to bake, preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a siplat baking mat. Set aside.

Using a cooking scoop, spoon mounds of dough the size of golf balls onto baking sheet. Sprinkle lightly with sea salt and bake until golden brown but still soft, 18 to 20 minutes. Transfer sheet to a wire rack for 10 minutes, then slip cookies onto another rack to cool a bit more. Repeat with remaining dough, or reserve dough, refrigerated, for baking remaining batches the next day. Eat warm, with a big napkin.

Makes about 16 cookies.