Cucina Povera

I've been getting to work really early lately.  Part of it is being super-busy, which I love, but part of it is that I love being in the office when it is so quiet.  This morning I can hear the rain pounding on the roof.

We're on a downhill slide into fall here in Anchorage.  I've been meaning to take pictures of the transformation, which include a flock of Canadian geese gathering on the mud flats near my house and the blooming of the fireweed.  Alaska legend is you can tell how long it will be until winter by when the fireweed finishing blooming and then goes to cotton.

For the first time in a couple of weeks, I was home to make dinner last night.  On Golden Pond is fully blocked and going well, but the nights we aren't in rehearsal I'm usually staying late at work or running the errands that I haven't had time to do. 

Last night I was determined to make something delicious, simple and packable to take to work for lunch.  I am fascinated by the Italian concept of cucina povera--literally, poverty kitchen--not because of the financial aspect of it (we are fortunate in that regard), but because it means you make a delicious dish from basically nothing. 

This dish is so simple that I kept wanting to do something more with it, like adding anchovies, chicken sausage or olives.  In the end, I left it proudly unadorned, the way it was meant to be.  It originated in Puglia, the single food region I most want to visit in Italy and haven't had the opportunity to--yet.

Rigatoni with Bread Crumbs and Parmesan

Adapted from Lidia's Italy by Lidia Bastianich

1 eight-inch piece of white country bread--baguette, French, ciabatta

1/3 cup olive oil

4 large cloves of garlic, sliced thinly

1 lb. dried rigatoni

1/4 cup Italian parsley, chopped

1/4 cup good-quality Parmesan, finely shredded, with more for garnish if desired

4 small dried peperoncino peppers, crumbled

Good-quality finishing olive oil

Sea salt and freshly-ground pepper

Trim the crust from the bread and then pull it into crumbs with your hands.  The crumbs should be various sizes.

Start a large pot of water to boil for the pasta, adding at least a tablespoon of salt.

In a large skillet, heat the olive oil.  When it is shimmering, add the bread crumbs and garlic.  Toss the crumbs to coat them with the oil, and toss occasionally when cooking so that they brown and crisp.

When the water is ready, add the pasta and cook for about nine or ten minutes, until the pasta is al dente.  Reserve half a cup of the pasta water and drain the pasta thoroughly.  Then add it back to the pot and cover it until ready to use.

The crumbs will be ready when they are lightly golden and crispy--make sure not to scorch the garlic.

Toss the pasta with a little of the cooking water to coat it.  Add the crumbs, parsley, peperoncini and Parm to the pasta and toss thoroughly.  Season with salt and pepper, then drizzle with good-quality finishing olive oil and toss again.

Serve with another grating of Parmesan.  Makes six appetizer pasta servings or four generous main course servings.  I served this with a side of fried zucchini and a bottle of dry, minerally Gruner Veltliner.

Dazed and Confused

Some weeks I feel like I'm sprinting for Friday, full of energy and purpose.  This week I feel like I'm crawling.

It hasn't been a bad week, just an exhausting one.  Work has been super-busy (not that I'm complaining--better that way than the reverse), and we just blitzed through blocking twenty-four pages of On Golden Pond over the last two nights.

Somehow, David and I have no plans for the next couple of nights.  I'm kind of grateful.  I foresee a long walk in my future tonight, followed by a glass of wine and some of the good cheese here my parents schlepped from one of the Italian markets in St. Louis.

A totally random photo demonstrating what happens if one flops on the

bed in our household.  Ingrid considers you her personal chaise.

David is doing somewhat better after his rib-fracturing bike accident a couple of weeks ago, but he's not up to hiking or other outdoor activity yet, so I also foresee a solo hike in my future this weekend.

We also received the latest CSA box, which includes a bunch of one of my favorite veggies, Swiss chard.  I love the stuff but am forever trying to find new ways to prepare it.

This recipe might win over people who don't particularly like dark leafy greens--it is savory and just slightly cheesy, and it has a terrific combination of tender and crispy bits.  While the original recipe did not call for oiling the pan prior before placing the chard cakes in it, they wanted to stick without it.  I thought it sounded weird not to oil the pan, but who am I to overrule Lidia?  Learn from my mistake.

Crispy Swiss Chard Cakes

Adapted from Lidia's Italy by Lidia Bastianich

1 lb. rainbow chard

2 tbsp. good olive oil

1/2 medium yellow onion, thinly sliced

3/4 tsp. sea salt

1 1/2 tbsp. unsalted butter

1/4 tsp. fresh-ground black pepper

1 cup Parmesan cheese, finely shredded

1 egg yolk, beaten

Wash the chard and trim off the stems, then trim away the central ribs.  You won't be using these for the dish, but they are great slow-cooked with a little broth, oil and garlic.

Bring a large pot of water to boil over high heat, then add the chard leaves.  Continue to let the pot boil for about twenty minutes, or until the chard is tender.  Drain and rinse the chard under cool water, and then finely chop the chard.

Here's the step I can't emphasize enough--squeeze every drop of water you can out of the chard, or the cakes will fall apart. 

Heat a large skillet over medium heat and add the butter.  When it is melted, add the onion and half a teaspoon of salt.  Cook the onion until it turns lightly brown, then add the chard and remaining salt.  Cook another 7-8 minutes, until the butter has all been absorbed.  You will want the chard to be dry but not crispy.

Remove the chard from the skillet and let the skillet cool.  When it is cool enough to handle, wipe it absolutely clean. 

When the chard is lukewarm to the touch, combine it with the cheese and egg yolk.  Divide the mixture into small patties and press them together firmly.  If there seems to be too much liquid in the mixture, squeeze some out and start again.



Reheat the skillet over medium heat and add the olive oil.  When the oil is shimmering, carefully place the chard cakes in the skillet.  Cook for about three minutes per side, then drain on a paper towel.

Serve warm--should make about four large cakes or six small ones.  We served them with a grilled Florentine steak, though they would make a fantastic addition to a vegetarian meal.

Here Comes the Sun

The sun is out!

This wouldn't be such an occasion for celebration were it not for the fact that it has been gray and rainy since last Friday night.  My hiking shoes and I will be heading out after work.

Despite the gloomy weather, I haven't been cooking much over the past couple of weeks.  Part of it is the casting process for On Golden Pond, which sadly remains ongoing as I seek out the last person, plus long hours at work, but part of it is that I've been wanting to eat basically two things:  Mexican food and salad.

There have been lots of blogs lately extolling the virtues of quinoa, a chewy little grain that takes on the flavors with which it's surrounded.  I have nothing but love for it, especially since it's kosher for Passover (a huge discovery this year) and a complete protein.  It's good hot or cold, and pairs particularly well with summery fish dishes.

This salad would make a light main course or a perfect side--I served it with Nigella's mustard-coated salmon.  I've doctored it up to add some additional color and crunch from radishes.  The ones we get in Alaska are vividly colored and very peppery, and I can't resist them.  We ate this salad outside on a sunny night with a bottle of Italian white wine.

Quinoa Salad with Greens and Spring Onions

Adapted from Salad as a Meal by Patricia Wells

For the salad:

1 1/2 cups quinoa

3 cups vegetable or chicken stock

2 dried bay leaves

1 tsp. coarse sea salt

1 tbsp. lemon juice

2 cups parsley leaves, coarsely chopped

1 tbsp. good olive oil

3 small spring onions (or scallions, if spring onions aren't available)

5 oz. baby spinach

4 radishes, sliced thinly

For the dressing:

2 tbsp. lemon juice

1/2 tsp. coarse sea salt

1 cup 2% milk

1/3 cup chives, minced

Lemon zest

Toast the quinoa in a large saucepan over medium heat, shaking or stirring it regularly until it crackles, about five minutes.  Remove the quinoa from heat and rinse it in a sieve with cold water.

Return the saucepan to the stove and heat the stock to a boil.  Add the quinoa, bay leaves and salt, then reduce the heat.  Cover the saucepan and simmer for about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.  Taste the quinoa to see how chewy it is and cook for an additional five minutes if it isn't soft enough.

Remove the quinoa from the stove and allow to sit for an additional ten minutes.  While it is cooling, whir the lemon juice, parsley and olive oil in a mini-prep food processor until the parsley is very fine.  Pour this mixture into a small bowl and add the spring onions and radishes to marinate them.

Then make the dressing:  in a jelly jar with a lid, combine the lemon juice and salt and shake to combine.  Let sit for a minute to dissolve the salt, then drizzle in the milk.  Shake to combine, then add the chives and lemon zest.  This will make more than enough dressing for this dish--you could halve the recipe if you don't want leftovers.



Doesn't this look like the best brown-bag lunch?



When ready to serve, toss the baby spinach with enough dressing to coat the leaves but not leave a lot of extra.  Then combine the quinoa with the marinated vegetables.  The original recipe calls for these two mixtures to be combined, but I left them separate--all the better to keep the spinach fresh for leftovers. 

Makes four main course servings, and would easily serve six as a side.

Apron Anxiety

It's always interesting when food bloggers reach national  prominence.  Some of them rise to the top by just being great writers who cook appealing and approachable food, a la Orangette or Pioneer Woman, both of whom seem to be universally loved in the food blogging community.  And then there are the ones who irk most food bloggers, like Julie Powell.

I can't decide how I feel about Alyssa Shelasky, a/k/a Apron Anxiety, who has a sassy personality and a girlfriend's gift of flowing gab but who is also well-connected and sometimes feels as if she is name dropping.  A former writer for People Magazine who finagled a meeting with a Top Chefs contestant on whom she had a crush, she transplanted her life from NYC to Washington, D.C. (a place she labeled provincial) to she could live with him.

If D.C. is provincial, I can't imagine what she'd think of Alaska.

When she has too much time between freelance assignments, Alyssa teaches herself to cook.  The blog is a mishmash of fun photos (mostly not taken by her), coy storytelling in which she omits nearly everything about her personal life (as if she were saving it for the book) and the occasional recipe.  It's fun, but you wouldn't learn a lot about cooking from it.

The book gives the juicy details of her "relationchef" (relationship with a chef)--his name is Spike, and I have to confess that I don't have cable so don't have a clue who he is.  There are also more details about learning to cook, and I'm not going to lie--it's a fast, fun read, but I really wondered whether she would have received a book deal if she hadn't had her connections.  It's what I would call a good airplane read, but she's like the friend of your spouse that you're glad you only have to see once a year.  She wears out her welcome.

I will credit her blog, though, for leading me to the recipe for Fat Witch's white chocolate raspberry brownies, which are the perfect blend of fruit and chocolate.  They are sticky, and the white chocolate chips drifted to the bottom and stuck, but they are completely delicious.

Any idea how to keep chips suspended in batter as the brownies bake? 

White Chocolate-Raspberry Brownies

Adapted from Fat Witch Brownies by Patricia Helding

14 tbsp. unsalted butter, softened

1/4 cup milk chocolate, chopped or in chip form

1/4 cup plus 2 tbsp. bittersweet chocolate, chopped or in chip form

4 large eggs

1 cup granulated sugar

1 tsp. vanilla

1/2 cup plus 1 tbsp. all-purpose flour

1/4 tsp. salt

1/2 cup white chocolate chips

1/2 cup raspberry preserves, heated slightly to make it spreadable

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Prepare a 9 by 9 baking pan either by buttering it or thoroughly spritzing it with a baking spray with flour.

Using a double boiler or a small metal bowl over simmering water, melt the butter, milk and bittersweet chocolate.  Set aside the mixture to cool.

Whisk together the eggs, sugar and vanilla in a medium bowl, then whisk in the butter/chocolate combination.

Sift together the flour and salt into the mixing bowl, when stir thoroughly to combine.  Add the white chocolate chips and then stir again.

Pour half the batter into the pan, then do your best to spread the preserves over the batter--mine wanted to clump.  Then add the other half of the batter, smooth it so it's even and bake for about 35 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean.

Cool on a baking rack.  Makes 12 good-size brownies.

Climb Ev'ry Mountain (At Least the Easy Ones)

I love Anchorage in the summer, last post's weather gripes aside.

We had fabulous friends over for dinner on Friday (there was an ill-fated clafoutis incident that I won't bother you with here), dinner with a friend of my parents on Saturday, and then walked past a street fair to meet some other friends later that night.  On nice days in Anchorage, you run into everyone downtown--forget six degrees of separation, it's more like two.

Yesterday David and I went hiking at Falls Creek Trail, which is a very steep uphill trail through trees to a valley at the end.  The state's website says the difficulty is "moderate," which may be true if you're a mountain goat or a Dall sheep.  My pedometer said that the uphill was the equivalent of going up 141 flights of stairs, if that can be believed, and my legs are a little on the sore side today.



A view of Turnagain Arm from
further up the trail.



By the time we rolled off the mountain dirty and sweaty, I didn't want to do anything too complicated for dinner.  Halibut tacos are one of the great Alaskan summer dishes--you can find them on menus around the state while the halibut is fresh, and while some restaurants are stupid enough to deep-fry halibut chunks for the tacos, this broiled version is much tastier and healthier.

I sauteed a small red spring onion and half a jalapeno and mixed them with a can of black beans for a side.  Green tomatillo salsa is a perfect complement to the tacos.

Halibut Tacos

Adapted from A Platter of Figs by David Tanis

1 lb. halibut steak or fillet

2 small peperoncino peppers, crushed

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 tsp. dried oregano

Extra-virgin olive oil

1/2 head green cabbage, thinly shredded

1 lime, juiced

Small corn or flour tortillas

Kosher salt and fresh-ground black pepper

For serving:

Guacamole

Black beans

Lowfat plain yogurt or sour cream

Salsa

Pat the fish dry and sprinkle with salt and pepper on both sides.  Preheat the broiler or, if it's a nice day, prepare your grill and cook the fish outside.

Combine the garlic, peppers and dried oregano in a ramekin, then spread on one side of the fish.  Drizzle the fish with olive oil on the same side.  If you have time to marinate the fish for an hour or so, cover it and put it in the fridge.  You'll want to let it come back up to room temperature before cooking.

In a small bowl, toss the shredded cabbage with a little salt, then add the lime juice and toss again.  Set it aside while you're cooking the fish.

Place the fish on a baking sheet and broil on high for about three minutes on each side.  The fish will be done when it flakes into large chunks and is opaque inside. 

Serve with warmed tortillas and garnish with the shredded cabbage and other fixings.

Serves 2 with leftovers.

Summertime Blues

I am so ready for the alternately gray, rainy and humid and brightly sunny weather in Anchorage to stop--it's as if the weather is bipolar.  Every morning I get up, poke my head out the window and decide whether to wear tights to work or if my legs will freeze if I go bare-legged.

Regardless of the weather, though, I am really in the mood for classic summer foods.  Ripe fruit, fresh corn and a good grilled steak all sound perfect right now.

Today I have the great good fortune to be guest blogging for the very first time for the lovely Kristen at Frugal Antics of a Harried Homemaker.  Her blog has been one of my favorites since I started blogging almost a year ago--she cooks creative, often gluten-free recipes that are economical and doable for the home cook.

In keeping with her philosophy, I give you this version of a summer succotash that can be adapted to whatever vegetables look good where you live.  It's vegetarian, healthy, simple to put together and full of flavor.  Serve alongside roasted meats or keep it vegetarian with a side of couscous or rice.  Either way, it's delicious--and I should know, since I've been eating the leftovers for lunch the last couple of days.  It's one of those dishes that gets even better the next day.

Check out this Farmstand Summer Salad with Jalapeno Butter here.

As a total aside, the terrific writer and director Nora Ephron, who directed Julie & Julia and You've Got Mail, and who wrote one of the all-time great screenplays, When Harry Met Sally, died Tuesday.  You may not know she started as a journalist and was once a food writer, which probably explains why there so many scenes of eating in her films.  The New York Times published a terrific article about her yesterday that talked about her love of food, which you can find here.

Now head on over to Kristen's blog and check out the salad!

This One's For You

Friday night, David and I went to a memorial service for a friend and former colleague who died in his mid-40s of natural causes.  Darryl was a prankster, an inveterate giver of advice (I remember him giving me dating advice circa 2005), and someone who loved to eat and drink.  He would have loved people getting together to raise a glass and tell funny stories about him--it's just a shame he couldn't be there to see it.

On a less somber note, it was a weekend filled with mostly great, sunny weather and friends.  My very first boyfriend from high school came through with his family after disembarking from an Alaskan cruise and we met them for dinner.  We also went to a fun potluck at our friends Arundel and John's, to which I took these brownies.



Brownies day 1, fresh out of the oven.



I know everyone swears they have the best brownie recipe, but I submit this one for your consideration.  I call them the "World's Best Brownies," which is probably an exaggeration, but they are simple, adaptable to mix-in ingredients and utterly delicious.



On the first day, the brownies have a slightly flaky crust and a cakelike texture.  On the second day, the crust disappears and the brownies become denser and fudgier.  I made them late Friday night and by Saturday evening they were at their best. 

I used hazelnuts in this recipe, but walnuts, chocolate chips or toffee bits would also be great mix-ins.  Darryl would have scarfed about three of these.  Darryl, this one's for you.

Ultimate Chocolate-Hazelnut Brownies

Adapted from Fat Witch Brownies by Patricia Helding

14 tbsp. unsalted butter, cubed
1/2 cup plus 2 tbsp. bittersweet chocolate chunks or chips
1 heaping cup granulated sugar
4 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla
1/2 cup plus 2 tbsp. all-purpose flour
1/2 cup hazelnuts, coarsely chopped
Pinch of salt


Brownies, day 2--look how fudgy they are!

 Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Spray a 9 x 9 square baking pan with baking spray with flour, or butter and flour it.

Using a double boiler, melt the butter and chocolate over low heat until melted, then allow to cool.

Using a hand mixer, beat together the sugar, eggs and vanilla until just combined, then beat in the cooled chocolate.

Sift the flour and salt together in a small bowl, then add to the chocolate mixture.  Beat the mixture until well-combined, then stir in the hazelnuts.

Spread the batter in the pan and bake for 30 to 33 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean.  Allow them to cool for an hour, if you can--David was into them at the half-hour mark and they were still great.

Makes 12 good-sized brownies.

To Rome, With Love

Yesterday, I actually got to see a movie.  In the theatre.  This happens less often than you would think.

One of the previews was for the new Woody Allen movie, To Rome with Love, which was apparently shot there last summer.  It stars Roberto Begnini, the Italian comedian who was the lead in Life is Beautiful, a movie I thoroughly disliked.  It's been more than ten years since it came out and I still can't believe it won an Oscar.  But I digress.  It doesn't necessarily look like a movie I like, but the shots of Rome were gorgeous.

David and I spent four days of our vacation in Rome, which is an unruly mixture of the ancient and modern.  You walk down a street of little restaurants and shops, and boom, there's the Colosseum.  You turn the corner from an equally modern street, and there are the Baths of Caracalla.  The latter of which closes promptly at 1 p.m. every single day, BTW, and woe to those who show up at 12:45. 

We had a couple of spectacular meals in Rome, which I will post about separately, but it's mostly not the major tourist sites that will stay with me, but things like the Borghese Gallery.  Unlike the Vatican museum, which was absolutely overrun with tour groups, the Borghese allows only a very tightly controlled number of people in at once and features spectacular art set in the gorgeous villa for which much of the art was purchased.  The villa is set in large, beautiful gardens and was one of the highlights of our time in Rome.  Tickets sell out several weeks in advance--if you're planning a trip to Rome, buy them once you know your dates.

There are certain sites in Rome that look exactly as you have seen them in movies and in photographs, the Colosseum foremost among them.  Then there are places that you've never seen, like the former Jewish Ghetto and the (still active) synagogue there.  If you have any interest in Jewish or Holocaust history, this is a must-stop place and is surrounded by a still active Jewish quarter full of small kosher restaurants.  The food was so good that David and I returned to one kosher meat restaurant for a second lunch.



That salad in the background is the bomb. 
It's coming at you later this week.



Since we arrived home six days ago, we've been eating a lot of Italian-style food.  For our anniversary a couple of months ago, David bought me another Lidia Bastianich cookbook, Lidia's Italy, in which she picks her favorite spots in Italy and provides recipes specific to that area.  This very simple pasta takes less than twenty minutes if you don't make your own pasta. 

At a restaurant in Emilia-Romagna, the homemade pasta had a gorgeous golden yellow color.  We asked the chef about the color, and he said that he simply doesn't use the egg whites.  David had to give it a try last night.  The color and texture were great, but it does yield a slightly stickier dough.

Pasta Cacio E Pepe

Adapted from Lidia's Italy

1 1/2 tbsp. whole peppercorns, coarsely ground

3/4 lb. fresh pasta or dried spaghetti

1 cup finely grated Pecorino Romano cheese

Extra-virgin olive oil (optional)

Boil a large pot of salted water for the pasta.  Depending on whether you are using fresh or dried pasta, cook either very briefly for the fresh or until just al dente for the dried.  Drain the pasta, but reserve a cup of the pasta water for tossing.

Put the drained pasta into a large bowl and toss with the cheese and pepper;  it will likely be very dry, so drizzle in the pasta water and a little olive oil until the cheese coats the pasta.  Adjust by adding more pepper, cheese or oil to taste.

Serve immediately.  Makes four small main course servings;  could serve six as a pasta course.

In Vacanza

The witching hour is practically upon me...I've been working like an insane person, compiling a packing list, studying my Italian verbs, writing way too many instructions for the cat/housesitters, and all that's standing between me and my vacation is two more (very full) days at work and, you know, the actual packing part. 

David and I have been spending most of our evenings at home this week, both to get more time in with Ingrid and to get ready to go.  Have you ever been so behind on blogging that you stop taking photos of food because you don't need more things to blog?  In the past week I have not photographed a terrific seafood risotto, a marvelous chicken piccata and a zippy fennel salad.  My future blog entries runneth over, though the chicken piccata was both easy and tasty enough that I expect to make it again this summer and will blog it then.

The exception was the cabbage rolls that I made earlier this week out of the head of cabbage that was rolling around in the vegetable drawer begging to be used.  A word of caution on making these:  my sweet little organic head of cabbage made this recipe more difficult--ideally, a cabbage with larger leaves would be better.

I found myself with a lot of leftover filling on my hands, which I made into meatballs and served with pasta last night. 

Finally, a thanks to those who commented on my mention that I had a no good, very bad day last Saturday.  Some of you may recall that I there was a situation with a friend with whom I was very close, who was having lots of issues during a play we were working on last fall and subsequently left the production.  He's said lots of awful things about me, and I've just been trying to be dignified and keep my head up because confronting him would have been pointless.  He has some significant problems and somehow I've become the scapegoat for them.

At a wedding we were both at last weekend, he yelled at David.  At the wedding.  Horrible and humiliating and painful, so of course I burst into tears and David and I left the reception.  This has been going on for six months and it's not getting any easier.

I hate being such an emotional person.  It's hard to write about this, even in kind of a detached manner.  So again, thanks to all who offered their support.

Whew.  And now on to the cabbage rolls.

Involtini di Verza in Umido (Stewed Stuffed Cabbage Rolls)

Adapted from the CIA's Italian Cooking at Home

12 large green cabbage leaves

1 lb. lean ground beef

1 lb. loose sausage, preferably a spicy Italian chicken or pork sausage

3/4 cup leftover cooked rice or small pasta (I used leftover couscous)

1 medium yellow onion, coarsely chopped

1 1/2 cups canned Italian whole tomatoes, crushed by hand

1 cup low-sodium chicken broth

2 bay leaves

1/4 cup parsley, chopped

1/4 cup fresh basil leaves, torn by hand or julienned

Kosher salt and fresh-ground black pepper

Start a large pot of salted water on the stove to boil.  When it is ready, add the cabbage leaves and blanch them until they are soft, about two to three minutes.  While you are doing this, start the oven to preheating to 350 degrees.  When the cabbage leaves are done, remove them from the water and place in a colander to drain.

In a large bowl, combine the ground beef, sausage, onion, rice or other pasta, and a little salt and pepper.  Use your hands to make sure everything is blended together.

Spray a large baking dish with nonstick spray or rub it with a little olive oil.

Using your hands again, shape the meat mixture into small rolls and place one in the center of each cabbage leaf.  Tuck the edges of the leaf around the bottom of each roll and place in the baking dish.

Once all the rolls are ready, pour the broth and then the crushed tomatoes over them and sprinkle with the parsley and basil.  Tuck the bay leaves into the pan.

Bake until the rolls are cooked through and very soft, about 45 minutes.

Makes twelve rolls, for about four main-dish servings.  Serve with a green salad and bread.

Shoulda Coulda Woulda

I meant to post again last Thursday, I really did.  I had the same intent last Friday.

But the weekend?  Forget about it.  Shabbat dinner at a friend's, work, bridal shower, concert, preparing a large tea party that turned raucous and went on for four hours, followed by collapsing in exhaustion.

The reality is that David and I are going on vacation in two weeks, and I don't have enough hours in the day.  And let me tell you, mama needs a vacation.  I'm already dreaming about a cappuccino in a Roman piazza.  And some gelato.  Not to mention wine and pasta.

I can't believe it's been a week since I posted the Thomas Keller "easy" seared scallop recipe, which I served with a vividly colored, lemony, spicy rice.  The rice was the perfect accompaniment, and had the virtues of being both easy and fully flavored.  I happily ate rice leftovers for days.  The one thing I didn't get to do was make it into fried rice with some shrimp, which would have been delicious.

A note about this recipe:  I was not trying to make enough rice for a family of giants, which is about how much it actually made.  You could easily scale it back to half a batch and have enough for four side servings.

It does make brilliant leftovers, though.  I might have scowled a little when I realized David had eaten the last of it.

Lemony Spiced Rice
Adapted from Bon Appetit Magazine,
April 2012

2 tbsp. vegetable oil
1 1/2 tsp. yellow mustard seeds
1 1/2 tsp. ground turmeric
1 small yellow onion, coarsely chopped
2 garlic cloves, slivered
1 small poblano, seeded and sliced into thin rings
2 cups jasmine rice
4 large strips lemon peel, yellow part only
Juice of one large lemon
2 tsp. kosher salt
1/2 cup unsalted roasted cashews, chopped

In a large (and I do mean large!) heavy saucepan over medium heat, heat the oil just until shimmering and immediately add the mustard seeds and turmeric.  Stir until the mustard seeds start to pop and quickly add the onion, garlic and chile before the seeds start to pop out of the pan--not that that happened to me, noooo.

Stir the veggies occasionally until the onion is softened, about seven minutes.  Then add the rice, stirring it into the veggies until it is coated with the oil. 

Add the lemon peel and salt, along with three cups of water.  Bring the mixture to a boil, then reduce the heat to low and cover the pan.  Cook for about 25 minutes and then check the rice for doneness.

Remove the pan from the heat, add the lemon juice and stir it in.  Cover the pan again and let it stand, then fluff the rice and remove the lemon peel.  Just before serving, stir in the cashews.

Makes 8 good size side dish servings.



Better than Starbucks

Yesterday I flew to St. Louis to attend my parents' retirement reception from the small university where they work.  They didn't know I was coming.

I am not normally given to springing huge surprises on people--but in this case it seems to have been very effective, particularly since I walked into the party accompanied by a six foot tall purple and white griffin, presumably beet red.  Did I also mention that despite my theatrical background, I am not given to grand entrances?

Before I rushed off on the redeye Wednesday night, I finished the cake for this month's Cake Slice bakers.  Reader, I have a confession:  I didn't even eat a full slice of it.  Not because the cake was bad, but because I failed to cut a slice and tuck it into my bag, where it would have been most welcome at 3 a.m. somewhere over Canada.

Although I loathe Starbucks on general principles, I will admit to a weakness for their reduced-fat cinnamon coffee cake.  It's tender with a big cinnamon streusel stripe through the middle of it.  This cake one-ups that by adding cardamom and orange zest.  It smelled heavenly out of the oven, and my lucky husband tells me that his colleagues ate this cake in a hot second yesterday. 

Cinnamon Swirl Buttermilk Pound Cake

Adapted from The Cake Book by Tish Boyle

For the streusel:

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

1/2 cup packed dark brown sugar

1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon

3 tbsp. salted butter, melted

For the cake:

2 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 cup cake flour

1 tsp. baking powder

1/4 tsp. baking soda

1/2 tsp. kosher salt

1/4 tsp. cardamom, preferably freshly ground

1 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 3/4 cups granulated sugar

3 large eggs

2 tsp. vanilla extract

1 tbsp. orange zest

1 cup buttermilk

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.  Prepare a bundt pan by spraying it liberally with baking spray.

In a small bowl, combine the dry ingredients for the streusel with a fork.  Then add the melted butter--I found it worked easiest to mix it in with my fingers until it formed small clumps.

In a medium bowl, sift together the two flours, baking powder and soda, salt and cardamom. 

Using a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, beat the butter on medium speed until it is creamy and paler in color.  Add the granulated sugar in three installments, continuously beating on medium speed until all the sugar is incorporated.  Then add the eggs one at a time, beating well between each one.  Scrape down the bowl and then add the vanilla and orange zest.  Finally, turn the mixer to low and then add the flour mixture in three installments, alternating with the buttermilk.  Beat until just incorporated.

Pour half the batter into the bundt pan, then cover with the cinnamon streusel--it doesn't matter if the streusel layer is precisely even.  Then pour the remaining batter in, smoothing the top.

Bake until a skewer poked into the cake comes out clean, about 65 minutes.  Turn the cake out onto a baker's rack and allow to cool, or in my case, snap a quick picture and then run out the door for the airport.

Makes 12-16 small slices.

Welcome Back, Carbs

The weekend started with promise:  theatre, friends and all day Sunday with nothing on the schedule.  Nothing.  It was the strangest thing, but I drew up a to-do list and we plunged in. 

Cue:  Monday morning with most of the to-do list left undone.  I swear we did not sit around the house yesterday.  Really.

Passover ended at sundown on Friday, and I even waited until 9 p.m. to eat my first slice of bread.  That's really restraint on my part.  It also means that bread, pasta and rice re-entered our house in a big way over the weekend.  Exhibit one:  this hunter's pasta.

This recipe isn't perfect;  I added the peas according to the recipe, but they really could have waited until closer to the end of the process, so I've modified that in the directions below.  This isn't the pasta equivalent of haute couture--think of it as the pasta equivalent of a favorite pair of sweats--comforting and easy to make and eat.  I used a mixture of mushrooms, but you could easily go with just one type, probably the cremini or portobellos.  The more expensive shiitakes can't be tasted enough to justify the expense.

Welcome back, carbs.  How I have missed you.

Also, without being too cute about it, my beloved cat Ingrid was seventeen yesterday.  Here she is is "helping" David make pasta.  I promise this pasta was solely consumed by David and I, as I would not let the cat sit that close to pasta I was making for guests.

 Rigatoni, Woodsman Style

Adapted from Lidia's Italy in America by Lidia Bastianich

1 tsp. sea salt

1 pound dried rigatoni

3 tsp. extra-virgin olive oil

1 medium yellow onion, coarsely chopped

1 lb. Italian chicken sausage, removed from casings

1/2 lb. cremini mushrooms, sliced thickly

4 oz. shiitake mushrooms, sliced thickly

1 large portabello mushroom cap, sliced thickly

6 fresh sage leaves

28 oz. can whole Italian plum tomatoes

1 cup frozen peas

1 bunch green onions, white and dark green parts only, chopped

1/2 cup heavy cream

1 cup good-quality Parmesan cheese, grated

In a medium bowl, crush the tomatoes by hand into small chunks and set aside.

Put on a large pot of water for the pasta and add a pinch of salt. 

Using a large skillet, heat the oil over medium heat.  When the oil is shimmering, add the onion and cook until the onion is slightly translucent, about three minutes.  Then add the sausage and cook thoroughly, using a wooden spoon to further crumble the meat.

Add all the mushrooms at once to the skillet, and cook for an additional two minutes.  Add the sage and tomatoes and bring the mixture to a simmer.  If the sauce is too thick, add a cup of water and return to a simmer.

Hopefully by this time your pasta water is at a boil;  add the rigatoni and cook according to the package until the pasta is al dente.  This should take about ten minutes.  Drain the pasta, reserving up to a cup of the pasta water in case the sauce needs thinning.

Cook the sauce uncovered for approximately ten minutes, then add the green onions and cook until they wilt into the sauce.  Add the cream and stir the sauce thoroughly to incorporate.  If the sauce is too thick, then add the pasta water bit by bit.  When the sauce is almost finished, add the peas and cook just until they are firm but not mushy.

Transfer the pasta to a warmed serving bowl, then add the sauce and toss thoroughly to coat.  Sprinkle some of the Parmesan over the bowl and serve the remainder on the side.

Makes 6 to 8 main-course servings;  could make up to 10 to 12 pasta course servings.

In Praise of the Potato

There's always a point during Passover when I whine about all the things I can't eat.  I'm a bread person, after all, and much as I like matzoh there comes a point when I get pouty.  My husband David, who is not Jewish despite the fact that he looks more Jewish than I do, occasionally eats a piece of toast while I stare at him in despair.  In his defense, it's probably not much fun for him either.

At this point during Passover, the humble potato becomes a lifesaver.  It's carbalicious, it's warm and satisfying, and it can be made into many different incarnations over the holiday.  Mashed potatoes.  Home fries.  Baked potatoes.  The list goes on.

I am not an enormous fan of potato gratin, or scalloped potatoes, but I recently bought David a copy of Alice Waters' new book.  We knew our seder was going to be of the dairy variety due to the high number of vegetarians, so I found myself looking at dairy-heavy vegetable dishes when I came across this one.

This may be the potato gratin that changes your opinions about potato gratins.  Delicately flavored with bay leaves and fresh thyme, it is creamy but not heavy.  Unlike a lot of potato gratins, there is no cheese, just a combination of milk and cream.

And, if you use a mandoline or food processor to slice the potatoes, it goes together fast.  I had intended to do a delicate overlapping layering of the potato slices, but with fourteen people coming in the door as we were finishing the preparations, it wasn't quite that artistic.  It also accounts for the distinct lack of photos.

This recipe easily doubles.  I recommend you make it immediately before it goes into the oven so the potato slices don't discolor;  you could make the potato slices ahead of time, but Waters warns against putting them in water because the potato starch will be lost.

Alice Waters' Potato Gratin

Adapted from In the Green Kitchen by Alice Waters

2 tbsp. butter, cubed, plus more for buttering the dish

1 1/4 cups heavy cream

1 cup 2% milk

1 tbsp. kosher salt

3/4 cup vegetable stock

2 bay leaves

3 1/2 lbs. Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled

1 tbsp. fresh thyme, chopped

Fresh-ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.  In a medium saucepan over medium heat, combine the milk, cream, bay leaves, salt and vegetable stock.  Heat the mixture to a simmer;  when it reaches a simmer, reduce the heat to low.

Butter a shallow, medium-sized gratin dish or casserole and set aside.  Slice the potatoes to approximately 1/8 inch thick using either a mandoline or food processor.  Immediately begin layering the potatoes into the casserole, ideally overlapping them.  However, if fourteen people are showing up at your door imminently, throw those potatoes into the dish to the best of your ability.

When the potatoes are in the dish, turn off the heat on the cream mixture and remove the bay leaves.  Pour the warm mixture over the potatoes, stopping just before it gets to the top of the potato slices.  If you overfill, it will spill over in your oven--I can attest to that.

Sprinkle the cubes of butter evenly over the gratin, then cover the pan with foil.  Bake for 35 to 40 minutes;  check to make sure the potatoes can be pierced with a knife.  Then remove the foil, sprinkle the thyme and pepper over the potatoes, increase the heat to 400 degrees and bake for another 25 to 30 minutes, until the potatoes are lightly browned.

At this point, there will be quite a lot of cream in the bottom of the dish.  The dish can be served immediately, or you can let it rest for another 5 to 10 minutes to allow some of the remaining cream to absorb.

Easily serves 8 as a side dish.