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November 15, 2007

Recipes in bold are my favorites.

Breakfast
**********
Bagels
Peter Reinhart’s Bagels
Banana Chocolate Walnut Bread
Banana Coconut Bread
Banana Bread with Chocolate and Crystallized Ginger
Black Rice Breakfast Pudding with Coconut and Banana
Blueberry Bannock Scone
Blueberry Bran Muffins
Blueberry Buckwheat Pancakes (GF)
Buttermilk-Brown Sugar Waffles
Brown Bread Muffins
Cardamom Lemon Soda Bread
Cherry Cornmeal Scones
Chocolate-Almond Whirligig Buns
Cocoa Banana Bread
Coconut Bread
Cornmeal-Cranberry Pancakes
French Chocolate Granola
Hazelnut-Lemon-Ricotta Pancakes
Lemon-Poppyseed Scones
Malted Corn Pancakes
Maple Scones
Maple-Pecan Muffins
Maple Pecan Muffins, low-fat
New England Spider Cake
Oatmeal with Walnuts, Butter and Demerara Sugar
Oatmeal Pancakes
Pancakes with Lemon and Sugar
Perfect Fried Eggs
Poached Scrambled Eggs
Porridge
Prune and Caraway Scones
Pumpkin Bread
Raised Buckwheat Belgian Waffles
Revueltos con Chorizo
Ricotta and Spinach Frittatine (GF)
Tweety Scramble
Savory Granola
Sour Milk Griddle-Cakes
Sweet Potato Muffins
Whole-Grain Banana Yogurt Muffins
Whole-Wheat Sweet Potato Muffins
Yeast-Raised Waffles

Starters
*********
Bruschetta with Burrata and Radicchio Marmalade
Hummus
Kimchi Pancake
Pea Fritters with Za’atar and Feta
Red Lentil Hummus
Salmon Rillettes

Salads
*******
Beet Salad with Horseradish and Fried Capers
Beet and Cabbage Salad
Celery Salad
Celery Root and Apple Salad
Chickpea Salad with Four-Minute Eggs
Farro Salad with Tomatoes and Corn
Fennel and Olive Salad
Hearts of Palm and Blood Orange Salad
Lentil and Duck Salad with Hazelnut Dressing
Mango and Shrimp Salad
Mizuna with Potatoes and Shallot Vinaigrette
Perfect Slaw (GF)
Potato and Cucumber Salad
Quinoa Salad with Shiitakes and Fennel
Rice Noodle Salad
Roasted Squash and Radicchio Salad with Buttermilk Dressing
Roasted Tomato, Fennel and Chickpea Salad (GF)
Savoy Cabbage Slaw with Applesauce Vinaigrette and Mustard Seeds
Shaved Fennel Salad with Celery and Egg
Tangy Roasted Beet Salad
Very Special (Green) Salad
Zucchini Salad with Tomatoes, Peanuts, Basil, Mint and Spicy Fish Sauce

Soups
********
Arugula and Potato Soup
Beautiful Soup
Beet and Ginger Soup
Black Lentil Soup
Broccoli Soup with Speck
Broccoli and Pasta Soup
Cabbage Soup
Caramelized Onion Ramen
Carrot Pomegranate Soup
Cauliflower Soup
Chickpea and Chicken Dumpling Soup
Chickpea Soup with Crisp Croutons
Chilled Cucumber, Avocado and Buttermilk Soup
Cold Summer Borscht
Cranberry Bean, Lacinato Kale and Pasta Soup
Cream of Celery Soup
Curried Coconut Tomato Soup
Garlic Soup with Mussels
Garlic Soup with Poached Eggs
Golden Tomato Soup with Fennel
Harira
Indonesian Chicken Soup with Noodles and Aromatics (Soto Ayam)
Leek Soup with Sauerkraut and Peas
Littleneck Clam Chowder with Bok Choy and New Potatoes
Minestra of Root Vegetables
Moroccan Carrot Soup with Mussels
Moroccan Tomato Soup
Mushroom Barley Soup
Potato Soup with Fried Almonds
Red Shrimp Chowder with Corn
Ribollita
Rice and Potato Soup with Parmigiano Rind – Updated!
Rice and Smothered Cabbage Soup
Rice Porridge with Chicken and Lemon Grass (Chao xa ga)
Roasted Carrot and Red Lentil Soup
Roasted Squash Soup with Cumin
Roasted Turkey Stock
Simple Onion Soup
Soup with Winter Greens and Chickpeas
Soupe au Pistou with Parmesan Croutons
Southern Comfort Soup
Spiced Red Lentil Soup (GF)
Squash and Rice Soup (GF)
Sweet Potato and Red Lentil Soup with Mint
Sweet Potato, Corn and Jalapeño Bisque
Thai-Spiced Tomato Soup
Thick Tomato-Bread Soup, Catalan-Style
Tomato Bread Soup
Tomato and Bread Soup
Tomato and Egg-Drop Noodle Soup (GF)
Warm Yogurt Soup with Grains and Greens
Zucchini Soup

Rice and Pasta
********
Asian Seafood Risotto
Baked Rice
Bucatini with Tuna
Butternut Squash Risotto
Coconut-Ginger Rice
Creamy Macaroni and Cheese
Edamame and Rice Salad with Fines Herbes Vinaigrette
Egg Noodles with Soy Broth
Fideua (Spanish Pasta with Seafood)
Glass Noodles with Crab
Gnocchi alla Romana
Goan Coconut Milk Pilaf
Instant-Pot Risotto
Linguine with Clams and Chiles
Panthay Noodles
Pappardelle with Bagna Cauda, Wilted Radicchio and an Olive-Oil-Fried Egg
Pappardelle with Peas and Parmesan
Pasta chi Sardi a Mari
Pasta con le Sarde
Pasta with Baked Tomato Sauce
Penne with Sheeps-Milk Ricotta and Mustard Greens
Penne with Spinach Sauce
Pasta with Turkish-Style Beef, Eggplant and Yogurt Sauce
Pizzocheri
Red Wine Risotto
Rice Noodles with Chicken
Roasted Tomato Pasta
Sesame Noodles
Shurpa Lagman
Soba Bowls with Poached Salmon and Roasted Broccoli
Soba Tsuyu
Spaghetti with Eggplant Sauce
Spaghetti with Tomato-Anchovy Sauce
Stuck-Pot Rice
Stuck-Pot Rice with Potato Crust
Stuffed Tomatoes
Summer Pasta
Tagliatelle with Braised Kale and Ricotta
Tomato Paella
Torchie with Oyster Mushrooms, Braised Chicken and Tomatoes
Vegetable Rice

Vegetables
********
Aloo Tikki (Indian Potato Cakes)
Baked Beans
Baked Endives with Ham
Beans with Lardons and Sage
Belgian Endive Gratin
Bihari Green Beans Masala
Braised Fennel with Meyer Lemon and Parmesan
Braised Leeks
Braised Red Cabbage
Braised Romano Beans with Cherry Tomatoes
Braised Zucchini with Mint and Lemon
Brown Butter Mashed Potatoes with Fried Sage
Bulgur Salad with Pomegranate Dressing and Toasted Nuts
Butternut Squash with Ginger Tomatoes and Lime Yogurt
Butternut Squash Curry
Cabbage and Potato Gratin with Mustard Breadcrumbs
Caramelized Corn with Fresh Mint
Caramelized Winter Squash
Cauliflower and Potato Gratin
Chana Punjabi
Chickpeas with Chilies
Collard Greens and Lentils
Creamed Red and White Pearl Onions
Creamed Tomatoes on Toast
Delicata Squash and Celery Root Puree
Fried Potatoes with Yogurt Sauce
Fried Zucchini Blossoms
Garlic and Herb-Stuffed Zucchini
Garlicky Braised Cauliflower with Capers
Glazed Shiitakes with Bok Choy
Gratin of Fennel and Tomato
Green Corn Tamales
Gremolata Potatoes
Grilled Eggplant Salad
Haricots Verts in Red Wine-Vinegar Cream
Hashed Brussels Sprouts with Lemon Zest
Kale Chips
Knife-and-Fork Kale
Kohlrabi Salad
Lentils with Caramelized Celery Root
Maple-and-Lime Glazed Carrots
Mushroom Ragout
Mushrooms a la Grecque
Olive Oil Refried Beans
Pan-Roasted Broccoli
Peas with Olive OIl and Mint
Peperonata
Pistachio Brussels Sprouts
Pommes de Terre Boulangère
Potatoes with Green Sauce
Potatoes Gribiche
Potato Salad with Yogurt and Horseradish
Puree of Cauliflower with Curry
Rajas con Crema
Roast Potatoes with Onions, Fennel and Bay Leaves
Roasted Broccoli and Scallions with Thai-Style Vinaigrette
Roasted Corn with Manchego and Lime
Roasted Parsnips with Za’atar and Aleppo Pepper
Roasted Peppers
Roasted Squash Puree with Apple and Ginger
Romesco Potatoes
Saag (Indian Buttered Greens)
Saffron Carrots
Salsify in Black Forest Ham
Sauteed Green Beans
Slow-Roasted Tomatoes
Smoked Aubergine Crush
Soft Zucchini with Harissa, Olives and Feta
Spaghetti Squash Gratin
Spicy Cabbage with Bacon, Shrimp and Tomatoes
Spicy Roasted Broccoli with Lemon
Spicy Tuscan Kale
Spring Vegetables in Parchment
Squash Toast
Stir-Fried Iceberg Lettuce
Sweet Potato Fries
Swiss Chard Gratin
Stir-Fried Celery in Meat Sauce
Tuscan Kale Saag
Zucchini Carpaccio with Avocado
Zucchini-Eggplant-Pepper Polpettine
Zucchini with Harissa and Lemon

Vegetarian Main Courses
********
Artichoke Tart with Polenta Crust
Artichoke Torte (Torta di Carciofi)
Austrian Potato Strudel
Barley Risotto with Corn and Basil
Bean and Winter Squash Gratin
Bok Choy with Shiitakes and Oyster Sauce
Butternut Squash and Potato Pie with Tomato, Mint and Sheep’s Milk Cheese
Chard and Onion Panade
Chard and Saffron Tart
Cheesy Black Bean Bake
Collard Squares
Corn Fritters
Corn, Zucchini and Chickpea Fritters
Crisp Couscous and Saffron Cakes
Depression Stew
Egg Baked in Cream
Eggplant Parmesan
Fake Baked Beans
Giant Lima Beans with Roasted Red Peppers
Grits with Deviled Shiitakes
Hungarian Cabbage Strudel
Khichdi
Lazy Spanakopita
Leek, Mushroom and Goat Cheese Tart
Mushroom Hash
Pan-Glazed Tofu with Orange Juice and Warm Spices
Pan-Glazed Tofu with Thai Red Curry Sauce
Pumpkin Fatayer
Pumpkin Tarte Tatin
Risotto al Forno alla Siciliana
Roasted Sweet Potates with Spicy Feta-Olive Salad
Rumtum Tiddy
Savory Sicilian Swiss Chard Tart
Shakshuka
Squash and Cheese Pie
Swiss Chard Timbales
Tart of Garlicky Greens and Black Olives
Tomato Mustard Tart
Tomato, Oregano and Feta Risotto
Tomato-Ricotta Tart
Tomato Salad Sandwich
Two Lentil Stew
Winter Squash, Onion and Red Wine Panade
Zucchini Pancakes

Fish and Shellfish
********
Baked Cod in Yogurt Sauce
Braised Tilapia with Leeks and Tomatoes
Clams with Ham and Sherry
Crab Cakes
Crumbed Mackerel
Grilled Orata and Onions
Halibut with Balsamic-Glazed Spring Onions
Halibut with Grapefruit and Blood Orange Sauce
Hot Crab Dip
Marinated Fish
Mussels in White Wine and Creme Fraiche
Ragù di Pesce
Roasted Broccoli with Shrimp
Roasted Fish with Sweet Peppers
Roasted Halibut
Roasted Trout with Pancetta and Sage
Salmon with Ginger and Lemon Grass Broth
Salmon with Hot Mustard Glaze
Scrambled Eggs with Shrimp
Shrimp and Onion Simmered in Caramel Sauce (Tom Kho)
Spicy Salmon on Toast
Tuna with Black Olive Pesto Panini
Tuna Carpaccio
Tuna Meatballs

Chicken and Poultry
********

Baked Chicken with Dijon Mustard and Herbs
Butter Chicken
Braised Chicken with Dried Shiitake Mushrooms
Chicken and Orzo with Lemon and Olives
Chicken and Rice Salad
Chicken with Orange Juice and Vanilla
Chicken Baked with Lentils
Chicken Breasts with Garlic-Chili-Ginger Sauce
Chicken Curry
Chicken Curry with Sweet Potatoes
Chicken Gratin
Chicken Legs Roasted with Mustard
Citrus- and Cumin-Roasted Chicken
Coconut-Barley Pilaf with Chicken
Curried Chicken Salad on Naan
Curried Roast Chicken, Durban Style
Easy Chicken Schnitzel
Flatbreads with Spiced Chicken and Pistachios
Hainanese Chicken with Rice
Javanese Chicken Curry (Opor Ayam)
Lemon Chicken
Miso Claypot Chicken (No Claypot)
Moroccan Chicken Smothered in Olives
Pulled Chicken Sandwiches
Quick Cassoulet
Roasted Chicken Legs with Lemon and Oregano
Slow-Roasted Chicken
Spicy Roasted Chicken Thighs
Spicy Roast Chicken
Turkey Spinach Meatloaf
Turmeric Pancakes with Coronation Chicken and Spinach
Warm Chicken Salad
Yogurt-Rubbed Roast Chicken with Red-Pepper Sauce

Meat
********

Barbecued Brisket
Beef Bolognese
Bison Steaks with Smoky Wild Rice
Braised Lamb Shank Ragu
Chinese Oxtail Stew
Cotelettes de Porc au Cidre (Apple Cider Pork Chops)
Finnish Meatballs
Ground Beef Pulao
Ground Meat Stir-Fry with Korean Rice Cakes
Just Good Chili
Lamb-Stuffed Cabbage Rolls
Meatballs for New Mothers
Monday Meatballs
Meatballs in Tomato and Chipotle Sauce
Orange Pork Ragout with Beans
Pan-Fried Pork Chops with Lemon
Picchiapò (Roman Braised Beef in Tomato Sauce)
Pork Chops with Fresh Tomato Sauce
Pork Loin with Grapes
Pork and Black Bean Chili
Pork Meatballs in Broth
Pork Meatballs with Yogurt Dressing
Rapini with Sausage and Golden Roasted Potatoes
Rib Steaks with Parsley and Crouton Salad
Salt-Roasted Pork Tenderloin with Rosemary and Fingerling Potatoes
Sardinian Meatballs
Savory Bacon
Sichuanese Chopped Celery with Beef
Soboro Donburi
Sour Spinach (Lamb Stew)
Syrian Beef Kebabs
Tagine-Style Lamb Stew
Tex-Mex Meatloaf with Chipotle-Tomato Glaze

Breads and Pizza
********
Aachener Poschweck
Apple Hazelnut Bread
Baguettes
Ciabatta
Ethiopian Honey-Spice Bread
Excellent White Bread
Flaxseed Bread
Focaccia ai Quattro Sapori
Focaccia Genovese
Focaccia di Patate
Honey-Lemon Whole-Wheat Rolls
Laugenbrezeln (Soft Pretzels)
Lemon Pizza
Maple White Bread
No-Knead Bread
No-Knead Pizza
Oatmeal Bread
Pizza Dough
Pizza Margherita
Pletzlach
Sausage, Radicchio and Burrata Pizza
Simple Crusty Bread
Slow-Rising Pumpkin-Thyme Dinner Rolls
Vegetable Pizza
Warm Gruyere Sandwich with Mustard and Thyme
Wheat and Cornmeal Cheese Rolls
Whole Grain Boule

Cakes
********
Almond-Lemon Tea Cake
Apple Cake
Apple Butter Loaf Cake (GF)
Arkansas Fig Fruitcake
Banana Cake
Buckwheat Squash Loaf with Cranberries
Buttermilk-Cinnamon Coffeecake
Carrot Cupcakes with Mascarpone Frosting
Cheesecake
Chocolate Cake
Chocolate Banana Cake
Chocolate Muscovado Banana Cake
Chocolate Orange Drizzle Cake
Ciambellone
Country Rhubarb Cake
Cranberry Orange Cornmeal Cake
Dark Molasses Gingerbread
Date Cake
Devil’s Food Cupcakes
Dimply Plum Cake
Donut Cake
French Chocolate Cake
Fudge Pudding Cake
Kamut Pound Cake
Lemon Blueberry Buckle
Malted Chocolate Birthday Cake
Nectarine Upside-Down Cake
Olive Oil Cake
Olive Oil Cake with Rosemary and Chocolate
Pear and Cardamom Upside-Down Cake
Pecan Brown-Butter Bread
Plain Vanilla Cake
Plum Torte
Polenta Cake
Poundcake
Poppyseed Cake
Robert Redford Cake
Simple Sesame Cake (GF)
Sweet Potato Bundt Cake with Rum-Soaked Raisins and a Spiked Sugar Glaze
Teddie’s Apple Cake
Ukrainian Honey Cake
Whole-Wheat Apple Butter Cake

Cookies
********
Almond-Cranberry Cookies
Benne Wafers
Buckwheat Cookies
Cardamom Pistachio Cookies
Chocolate Chip Cookie Brittle
Chocolate Chip Cookies with Buckwheat Groats
Chocolate Oatmeal Coconut Cookies
Chocolate Toffee Cookies
Cinnamon Squares
Double Chocolate Cookies
Fig Bars
Flat-and-Chewy Chocolate Chip Cookies
Flourless Salted Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies
Ginger-Pecan Biscotti
Ginger-Sour Cherry Biscotti
Graham Crackers
Intensely Chocolate Sablés
Madeleines from Dax
Paximathakia Portokaliou
Pecan Drops
Quintessential Chocolate Chip Cookies
Raisin-Filled Sugar and Spice Cookies
San Andreas Cookies
Spice Cookies
Tahini Cookies
Teff Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies with Walnuts and Cranberries (GF)Whole-Wheat Sables

Desserts and Other Sweet Things
********

Ambrosia
Apricot Dumplings (Marillenknödel)
Apricot Tart Brulee
Apple Crisp
Apple Quince Pie
Asian Pear Crisps
Baked Apple Pancake
Belgian Brownies
Bittersweet Brownies with Salted Peanut Butter Frosting
Blackberry Flummery
Blackberry Nectarine Crisp
Bread Pudding with Prunes and Apricots
Browned Butter Blueberry Tart
Bruleed Pumpkin Pie
Buttermilk Pie
Butternut Squash Pie
Chocolate Bouchons
Chocolate Bouchon Pudding
Chocolate Semifreddo with Candied Salted Almonds (GF)
Chocolate Tahini Brownies (GF)
Cider Pecan Tart
Cocoa Brownies
Concord Grape Clafoutis
Cornmeal Buckle with Plums
Cranberry, Caramel and Almond Tart
Crostata
Flan
Gateaux Bastille
Golden Apple Triangles
Hypocrite Pie
Maple Baked Apples
Nutella Buckwheat Brownies
Panforte with Candied Quince
Peach Gelato
Pecan Pie
Plum Crumble
Poached Pears with Poached Spiced Figs
Poached Quince with Vanilla and Cinnamon
Pumpkin Panna Cotta
Raspberry Meringue Roulade
“Real” Jell-O”
Rhubarb Raspberry Betty
Rice Pudding
Rice Pudding with Bay
Roast Apple and Maple Eton Mess (GF)
Roasted Applesauce
Roasted Rhubarb
Roasted Strawberries
Salted Caramel and Milk Chocolate Mousse
Salted Caramel Shortbread Bites
Sesame Date Yogurt Cups
Silky Chocolate Pudding
Spiced Baked Apples with Maple Caramel Sauce
Squash Pie
Steamed Lemon Puddings
Strawberries & Cream Popsicles (GF)
Summer Fruit Tart
Supernatural Brownies
Tuscan Crostata
Wine-Stewed Prunes with Mascarpone

Cooking for Babies and Toddlers
********
Avocado-Cucumber Salad
Blueberry Coconut Oatmeal Muffins
Fusilli with Oven-Roasted Tomatoes and Zucchini
French Toast
Korean Barbecued Chicken
Pastina
Rice and Peas and Broth and Cheese
Roasted Apricots
Scrambled Eggs
Teriyaki Salmon
Yogurt-Fruit-Rice Parfait

Jams, Pickles and Preserves
********
Apple Butter
Capuliata
Cherry Butter
Cranberry Onion Jam
Currant Pickle
Damson Butter
Harissa
Parsi Tomato Chutney
Quick Radish Pickles
Rhubarb-Grapefruit Preserves
Seville Orange Marmalade
Strawberry-Lemon Grass Jam
Tomato Jam
Zucchini Pickles

Condiments
Cranberry Orange Sauce
Hot Fudge Sauce
Mexican Green Goddess Dressing
Sicilian Pesto
Garlic-Anchovy Mayonnaise
Green Goddess Dressing
Herb Rub

Beverages
********
Ayran
Elderflower Cordial
Spicy Hot Chocolate

Feta Cheese Crisps
Figs in Whiskey
Fresh Corn Blini
Homemade Butter
Homemade Ricotta
Muhammara
Mushroom Ragu
Parmesan Balls
Peach Quencher
Peppers for Cold Meats
Requesón
Ricotta and Roasted Pepper Tartine
Vanilla Extract
Zucchini Sauce
Carolina Braunschweig’s Apple Butter

November 15, 2007

Hoo. Hoo. Hoooo. I'm having a hard time catching my breath. In fact, pass that paper bag, I feel like I might need it. Why? Let me tell you why. It's November 15th. November 15th! Do you know what that means?

It's that time of year again, that time of year that creeps up on me out of nowhere (nowhere, I tell you!) and manages to smack me in the ass every single time. I'm a smart enough girl, I can read and walk at the same time, I can listen to music and chew my food simultaneously, I can speak four languages and touch my tongue to my nose (well, no, those things I can't do at the same time): how am I still not smart enough to anticipate Christmas?

Every single year, I vow to make a handmade Christmas – to bake and cook and craft until I've spun a mountain of lovely, tasty, personal gifts to bestow upon the lucky folks who happen to be related to me – and every single year I fail miserably. On December 22, I'm pacing the streets of Soho with a wide-eyed, hysterical glare in the whites of my eyes and an unpleasant little squeakiness to my voice – I think some of you might call it the sound of desperation.

You'd think I'd give up by now. You'd think that this year, the year that I (gulp, gulp, and triple gulp) turn thirty (where the hell is that paper bag?), I'd have made my peace with this reality: that I'm just not cut out for a handmade Christmas.

Obstinacy is a funny thing, isn't it?

Because here it is, November 15th, and I'm frantically making lists of recipes and ingredients to assemble, culling together cello paper and tupperware, hunting down jam jars and clean lids, scrounging up twine and stickers, finding mailing labels and shipping rates and, God help me, I think I'm going to try again.

Last year, after I'd given up and gone back to Berlin for the holidays, defeated and beladen with a suitcase full of perfectly acceptable, purchased gifts, Molly (who this year has made it official and taken the handmade pledge – brave one) sent me a jar of homemade apple butter so delicious that it was gone in a matter of days. (Addressed to both me and Ben, I didn't have the heart to hoard it for myself, in which case it would have lasted perhaps a week. I can be so stupidly generous sometimes.) I spent the next 9 months wishing she would send me another jar.

Molly got her recipe from Heidi who got it from Carolina Braunschweig, so when I eventually realized that wishing wasn't going to get me anywhere, I went apple-picking and made my own. Between a colleague and my upstairs neighbor and the constantly hungry man residing in my apartment, the four jars I made were gone in a week. It really is that good. It goes well on toast and in Liberte plain yogurt and apparently in cookies, though I haven't tried those yet. It makes your house smell like a holiday and makes you feel all calm and happy while it burbles away on the stove. And will you believe me when I tell you that while boiling jars sounds all technical and frightening, it really, really isn't? Really, I promise. If I can do it, so can you.

So, join me in the madness, won't you? Let's do it together. You make apple butter, and I'll do – I don't know – chutney. Or cookies! Or both. I don't know. Oh God, I'm having trouble breathing again. But it'll be fun, I promise! And then, if it all goes south in the end despite our best intentions, we can go shopping together a few days before Christmas when the stores are empty and our hair is falling out in handfuls. Hmm? What do you say – do we have a deal?

Apple Butter
Makes 4 or 5 8-ounce jars

4 pounds of apples, peeled and cut into bite sized chunks
Roughly 1/2 gallon of apple cider
2 cups of sugar (I cut this to 1 and 1/4 cups of sugar)
1 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon (I would do just 1 teaspoon next time)
1/2 teaspoon cloves (and I'd do a little less than 1/2 teaspoon next time)
Juice of one lemon

1. Heat oven to 225 and place jars (but not lids) on the baking racks. Jars will need to stay in the oven for at least 20 minutes. Wash the lids with hot water and let them dry completely on a clean towel.

2. In a big, heavy pot over medium heat add the apples and enough apple cider to just cover the apples. Bring to a simmer. A bit of a foam will form, you want to skim that off a couple of times. Cook the apples until they are tender throughout, roughly 20-30 minutes. Take the apples off the heat, let them cool for a couple minutes, and then puree in a blender in small batches (don't fill the blender over half full with the hot liquid or you will have a mess) or with an immersion blender directly in the pot. The puree should be the consistency of a thin applesauce.

3. Put the puree back in the big pot over medium heat. Bring puree to a simmer (you need it to hit 220F on candy thermometer). Then, while stirring, slowly sprinkle in the sugar, cinnamon, cloves, and lemon juice. Continue to simmer over medium/med-low heat. It takes quite a while from this point until the apple butter reduces and really thickens up, anywhere from 1 to 2 hours (try to keep it around 220F). Make sure you stir regularly, you don't want it to burn or cook to the bottom of the pot. You are looking for the apple butter to thicken up and darken. Towards the end it gets a bit messy, the simmer becoming more lava-like – it also sounds different, lots of plop and slop noises and lots of spattering coming from the pot. Remove from heat.

4. Using tongs, carefully remove each jar from the oven and fill to within 1/4 inch of the top with the apple butter. Wipe off rims with a clean dry paper towel. Place a dry lid on each jar and close tightly. Turn the jars upside-down and let cool completely.
Kim Boyce’s Whole-Wheat Sweet Potato Muffins

November 12, 2007

I am an orderly and punctual kind of girl. One who revels in being in bed by 10:00, gets pleasure out of the neatly folded lines of sheets and towels in our linen closet, loves using up the last four turnips, two beets and half a rutabaga in the fridge for a lovely autumn soup that also results in a beautifully empty vegetable crisper, sweats unpleasantly when running even just five minutes late, thrills secretly when the neat piles of mail and magazine inserts and cardboard paper towel rolls all get placed in the recycling bin in the little closet next to our apartment, and exults when using up the last few shakes left in a bag of flour.

And yet. On weekday mornings, I somehow still end up running four minutes late far too often, throwing my scarf over my shoulder while I press the elevator button as the door bangs shut (rats!), remembering that my cell phone is still on the coffee table, running back inside to get it as I thread my belt into my belt loops while the door slams again (crap!), then hearing the elevator ping its arrival, managing to make it out just as the elevator door opens, but not smoothly enough so I don't keep the our apartment door from banging a third and final time (damn it!) and as I ride down to the ground floor, realizing I've forgotten to eat breakfast entirely.

If there's something I hate, it's missing breakfast at home. See, I have this little routine: I take my breakfast (a small pour of orange juice in a narrow glass, a little white bowl of Grape Nuts and milk) and sit in the big office chair that Ben brought with him when we moved to Queens. While I eat my breakfast swiveling around in the chair, looking out the window or listening to the radio, Ben stands next to me and irons. We don't talk much, but we start our day together there. It's calm and peaceful in that office, we can see the tree tops waving, and the big city feels pretty far away. Plus, this way the orderly me gets her morning fiber (check), her vitamins in pill and juice form (check), and one third of her daily calcium requirement (check). All this, too, warms my soul.

But let's get real: the number of mornings I'm able to have this dreamy little breakfast scenario has dwindled substantially of late and I've been spending far too much money on morning breakfasts in the city. (Close to $5.00? For a scone and a cup of tea? What is going on here?) I read Amy Scattergood's article on Kim Boyce's healthy muffins while I ate a Balthazar scone, delicious but crammed to the brim with butter and cream, at my desk for the (gulp) third time last week and vowed to change my ways.

The only problem is that Kim's muffins are far too good to be eaten, ascetically, one by one each day of the week. Trust me, you'll make a batch, envision it lasting you two weeks in the freezer, and by the end of the weekend – bam! – the muffins will be gone, baby, gone. Wholesome and grainy and full of autumnal flavor, they're simply delicious. Studded with juicy little bits of dates (dates, I swoon for you) and with the occasional bright orange pocket of sweet potato, they're the kind of muffin that make you feel practically virtuous whilst eating them, which as you probably know, is a very special kind of muffin indeed.

Whole-Wheat Sweet Potato Muffins
Makes 12

1/2 pound sweet potatoes (also known as yams)
Vegetable oil spray for coating the tins
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter
3 tablespoons dark brown sugar
3 tablespoons sugar
1 cup flour
3/4 cup whole-wheat flour
1/4 cup whole-wheat pastry flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon ginger
1/2 teaspoon allspice
1 cup buttermilk
1/4 cup plain yogurt
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla
12 Medjool dates, pitted and cut into 1/4- to 1/2-inch pieces

1. Heat the oven to 400 degrees. Prick the sweet potatoes with a fork and place on a foil-lined cookie sheet. Roast for 1 hour or until they are tender when pierced with a fork and are caramelizing. Remove from the oven and allow to cool, peel, then lightly mash with a fork. Set aside.

2. Lower the oven temperature to 350 degrees. Lightly spray the muffin tin with vegetable oil.

3. Cream the butter and sugars until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes.

4. In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, whole-wheat flour, whole-grain pastry flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, ginger and allspice. In a separate bowl, whisk the buttermilk, yogurt, egg and vanilla together.

5. Scrape down the sides of the butter bowl and alternately add the dry and wet ingredients; do not overmix. Gently fold in the sweet potatoes, then the dates.

6. Using an ice cream scoop (about one-half cup capacity), scoop the batter into each of 10 prepared muffin cups, about 1 scoop per muffin. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes. The muffins will be dark golden brown on the bottom.
Russ Parsons’s Salt-Roasted Pork Tenderloin with Rosemary and Fingerling Potatoes

November 8, 2007

Oh yes, I know what you’re thinking. Doesn’t that look lovely? All burnished and brown and crusty? All herby and earthy and fragrant? Pork tenderloin, baby, and soft little potatoes, baked in a salt crust. Oh yeah. You don’t even know how good the house smells right now. So good. Yes, it does.

I’m alone in the kitchen, heating up braised cabbage on the stove, while the pork and potatoes roast quietly in the oven under their thick cloak of herbed salt. The apartment’s all warm and cozy and I’m waiting for my fella to come home and sit down to dinner with me – cold beer in hand, square meal awaiting, love all around.

Keys in the door. He’s home! The man walks in, peels off his wool coat, shouts out a "Honey, I’m home!". I’m dancing in the kitchen, pulling the pan out of the oven, happy, so happy. He rinses off the back of his neck, plastered with little hairs from a quick trip to the barber, walks into the kitchen (that haircut, that face, oh, it’s good), kisses me hello. We’re all so-nice-to-see-you, oh-goodness-how-I’ve-missed-you, oh-lordy-how-awesome-are-you, no-no-how-awesome-are-you, and then suddenly – with no warning – all this huggy-bear-kissy-face, domesticated-bliss fest comes to a shrieking, gear-grinding halt.

One finger stretches out and points. Lips curl. The music stops playing. Readers, the world practically stops turning.

"What. Is. That."

(Now is probably the time to tell you that if there’s one thing that Ben dislikes more than salt (well, except for anchovies – and the feeling for them is more like abject loathing, so it’s not even up for discussion), it’s pork. So pork and salt, together? You can only imagine the horror.)

Come on, baby, pork is tasty, so tasty, and really, not at all bad for you, as long as you’re not snarfing bacon down every weekend and having pulled pork sandwiches on a weekly basis. Would I try to hurt you, honey, would I? I think you might be getting a little unreasonable about the whole thing, trust me, baby, trust me and if you don’t trust me, then trust Russ, because Russ – well, it changed his life, this salt-roasting pork thing and if Russ says something’s life-changing, I have to sit up and pay attention, I just do.

Ben stands in the kitchen in accusatory silence. I wield the butt of our heaviest knife and crack open the salt crust. Fragrance, the earthy scent of rosemary and potatoes and roasting meat, wafts aloft. I peek a sideways glance. Ben’s impassive but for the tiny glint of interest now shining in his eyes. I lift up the browned tenderloin, brush off the clinging salt, set it down and carve it into moist, pink slices. The potatoes, tender with appealingly wrinkled skin, emerge from the white, sandy dome.

Three small potatoes on each plate, three slices of juicy pork, a riotous, purple tangle of cabbage, too. The knives sink easily into the flesh of the potatoes, the plates run pink with juices. The pork is tender and tastes, as Russ says, hugely of itself. A suggestion of rosemary fills the air, but the potatoes are just their best possible version, as potato-ey as it gets. I do my best to enjoy the meal subtly. I don’t want to bang Ben over the head with the triumph of the pork tenderloin. It’s bad enough to have forced him into eating something he usually spurns – I can’t then also have it be the best meal of the week, can I?

What a silly question. Ben’s plate is empty, as is mine. I get up for more cabbage and he holds out his plate. "More pork, please." I knew you’d come around, honey, I’m so glad you did.

Salt-Roasted Pork Tenderloin with Rosemary and Fingerling Potatoes
Serves 4

2 tablespoons snipped rosemary leaves
6 cups coarse salt
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 (1 1/4 -pound) pork tenderloin
1 pound fingerling potatoes, scrubbed but unpeeled
1 tablespoon butter, at room temperature
1 teaspoon minced shallots

1. Heat the oven to 400 degrees. Combine the rosemary and the
salt in a large mixing bowl and stir in 1 cup of water until the
texture is that of gritty snow.

2. In a large skillet, heat the oil until the surface ripples.
Pat the pork tenderloin dry with paper towels and sear it in the hot
oil until it is browned on all sides, about 8 minutes.

3. While the pork is browning, spoon a layer of salt about
one-fourth-inch thick in the bottom of a gratin or baking dish just big
enough to hold the pork and the potatoes in a single layer.

4. When the pork is browned, pat it dry with a paper towel to
remove any excess oil and place it in the gratin dish, laying it down
the center. Arrange the potatoes around the outside and cover
everything with the remaining salt.

5. Roast until the pork reaches an internal temperature of 145
degrees, about 20 to 25 minutes. At this point, the pork will be quite
moist but still a little pink. If you prefer the pork to be more
cooked, push the temperature to 150, about 5 more minutes. Remove the
baking dish from the oven and set aside 5 minutes to finish cooking.

6. With a sturdy metal spoon or chef’s knife, chip a crack
around the base of the salt crust and carefully lift off the top. Use a
dry pastry brush to brush away any salt on the surface of the potatoes
or the pork, turning the pork over to brush all sides. Transfer the
pork to a carving board. Slice the pork into medallions one-fourth-inch
thick and arrange on a serving platter. Place the potatoes in a medium
bowl and toss with the shallots and butter just until coated,
discarding any excess butter. Arrange the potatoes around the outside
of the pork and serve immediately.
Teddie’s Apple Cake

November 4, 2007

Let's start with a thrilling announcement, shall we? Readers, I now have a fancy Recipe Index on my site! Right there, to the left, under my author photo. Thank you for putting up with those difficult-to-navigate archives for so long – two years, two months, and 304 posts to be exact. I've gotten many, many complaints about this, and I'm so pleased to say that your struggles through my archives are finally over.

In the spirit of democracy, I've included ALL the recipes that I've made on this site in there, including the duds. I'm still debating a system in the Index in which I alert you to my Hall-of-Famers, my Absolute Disasters, my Weeknight Repeats. Any suggestions? Anyway, I hope it's useful to you all – I've already re-discovered more than a dozen things I cannot wait to try again.

To celebrate (and to fortify myself, because I haven't entirely finished going through my archives and adding them to the index), I'm having cake for breakfast. Now, I'm of the opinion that not every cake can double as breakfast. Some cakes, the flourless and the frosted, for example, just can't – they're too glamorous, too late-night, too spangly and wicked. But the homey cakes, the ones that look a little craggy on the edges, with a generous, open crumb and a scent not unlike fresh pancakes, those will do just fine for the weekend mornings when a bowl of cereal is simply not enough.

First published in 1973 and resurrected this weekend by Amanda Hesser, Teddie's Apple Cake (who is Teddie and why is the cake named after him or her? Unfortunately, I have no answers for you) is such a cake. It's got this wonderfully craggy top, all mountains and valleys of soft apples jutting upwards through the cake and slumping down gently into the crumb, and a faintly shattering crust. It could be masked through some confectioner's sugar sifted on top, but I like its rustic appeal just fine. Besides the cake teeters on the edge of too-sweet-ness as it is.

I had to fiddle with things a bit (my God, I've become such a renegade), using less sugar, adding pecans instead of walnuts, swapping in fresh cranberries for the raisins. (It's not that I don't like raisins, but the tart little pops of cranberry are so much more refreshing.) But it was a hit around here last night, fresh out of the oven – with Ben, and with Gemma upstairs. This morning, for breakfast, it's even better.

Teddie’s Apple Cake
Serves 8

Butter for greasing pan
3 cups flour, plus more for dusting pan
1 1/2 cups vegetable oil
1 3/4 cups sugar
3 eggs
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon vanilla
3 cups peeled, cored and thickly sliced tart apples, like Gala
3/4 cup chopped pecans
1 cup fresh cranberries

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter and flour a 9-inch tube pan. Beat the oil and sugar together in a mixer (fitted with a paddle attachment) while assembling the remaining ingredients. After about 5 minutes, add the eggs and beat until the mixture is creamy.

2. Sift together 3 cups of flour, the salt, cinnamon and baking soda. Stir into the batter. Add the vanilla, apples, pecans and cranberries and stir until combined.

3. Transfer the mixture to the prepared pan. Bake for 1 hour and 15 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool in the pan before turning out. Serve at room temperature.
Delicata Squash and Celery Root Puree

November 1, 2007

Twenty-one (21) days. Three (3) short weeks. Millions of turkeys meeting their fate in the meantime, and billions of cranberries, too. Yes, that's right – Thanksgiving approaches. But not loomingly, in the menacing way that Christmas does, with its stressful days (or evenings, I should say, pantingly afoot before the shops close) of shopping, mind-numbing brainstorming (I can't possibly give my dad another tie, can I? I think I filled the tie quota about 13 years ago), and wasteful gift-wrapping (family and friends, I'm warning you – this year, wrapping paper is just not happening for me).

No, instead, Thanksgiving rolls its way into your life relatively peacefully – your only moments of stress being the decision about whether or not you should shell out extra dough for the heritage birds, or wondering if your table has another leaf for those four more guests you just invited, or whether this year you should make two pies or three. (Three! Three! Come on, please?)

I happen to think that there's a wealth of Thanksgiving goodness hidden in the archives of this website, so to help with your menu planning or potluck contributions this year, here are my favorite gems from years past that you really can't live without, I swear it.

Lemon Pizza
I'd serve this as an appetizer. You can bake the dough in the morning, then have a helper slather it with creme fraiche and dot the salmon roe on as your guests arrive. Eating it will keep them distracted in the living room (well, that and some nice, cold white wine) while you frantically busy yourself in the kitchen, wondering if it's okay that you never got around to taking a shower. It's Thanksgiving! No one cares.

Hashed Brussels Sprouts with Lemon Zest
I won't lie, slicing pound upon pound of Brussels sprouts can get tedious, but you can do this in the morning, in that weird moment when the turkey's in the oven and your pie dough is in the fridge and a strange quiet descends upon your kitchen. Oh right! Or else just make your food processor do the job. The sprightly lemon zest and zingy mustard seeds (that's the variation I prefer) completely transform this somewhat – er – misunderstood little vegetable.

Butternut Squash Curry
Sometimes I get a little tired of the whole English Colonial thing that permeates the Thanksgiving table, don't you? This variation is a welcome change to your usual mashed squash or sweet potato dish. It's beyond delicious (and if you haven't discovered curry leaves, now's your chance), but not so exotic as to totally freak out your great-aunt Gladys who is just now beginning to understand that adding salt to your vegetables might actually be a good thing.

Braised Leeks
I. Love. These. Leeks. Can I say more? I don't know. I love them, luuuuuuv them. Just imagine them wrapped silkily around the tines of your fork, a dollop of mashed potatoes gilded with gravy balanced on top. Is water forming in your mouth right now? Okay, good, I convinced you.

Butternut Squash Pie
If you ignored all my other exhortations above, fine, I could live with it. If you ignored this pie? I would simply throw a fit. It is the best squash pie I have ever made, including the one from The Pie and Pastry Bible, which I always thought was the gold standard. The link to the recipe is embedded in the post. Please make sure you read my notes, though – there were some issues with oven temperature and timing in the original recipe.

Apple Quince Pie
You need an apple pie on Thanksgiving, you just do. And this one is apple pie that died and went to heaven. An all-butter crust with text-book flakiness, meltingly soft quince perfuming the filling, a towering profile worthy of any diner dessert – it's a stunner. The process is a little daunting, I won't lie, but the rewards – rewards! – are worth everything.

Cranberry, Caramel and Almond Pie
Ha! See? Three pies! Of course. It makes total sense. Forget pecan pie, by the way. This is the nut pie you should be making. (Nut pie, that's got a ring to it. A charmingly derogative nickname, perhaps?) It's tart and sweet and sticky and crunchy – textural bliss and the most elegant thing on your dessert buffet. And it's a comparative cinch, too. Just remember your mantra with this one: pie weights, pie weights, pie weights, and you will be fine.

And then there's this luxurious dish I made the other night that was just meant for the holiday table. I first read about it in Chez Panisse Vegetables, where it appears flavored with thyme and bolstered with potatoes and a goodly amount of cream. But at home the other night, without potatoes or thyme and with only a glug of cream left, I adapted it with what I had and produced a plush puree that was sweet and earthy and so good that we literally ate it with a spoon. Next to a burnished turkey, it would just shine.

Delicata Squash and Celery Root Puree
Serves 6

2 Delicata squashes (about 1 pound)
Olive oil
Salt and pepper
6 sprigs sage
4 cloves garlic
1 medium celery root
1/2 cup cream
1 bay leaf

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

2. Split the squashes in half lengthwise and scrape out the seeds and pulpy fiber with a spoon. Brush the squashes with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Put 1 sage leaf and 1 clove of garlic in the cavity of each squash half, and bake on a baking sheet, cut side down, for about 40 minutes, until completely tender.

3. Peel the celery root, cut it into small chunks, and put them in a pot of water. Bring to a boil and simmer for about 30 minutes, until tender. In another saucepan heat the cream, the remaining sage, and the bay leaf. Bring to a simmer, turn off the heat, and let the mixture steep.

4. When the squash is done, remove it from the oven and discard the garlic and sage. When the celery root is done, drain it. Put the squash and celery root in a pot and puree with an immersion blender, or put them both through a food mill or ricer. Add the cream mixture, and thin with milk or water, depending on the desired consistency. Adjust the seasoning, reheat, and serve.
Potato Turnip Cakes

October 30, 2007

I am still flailing with the glory of it all, simply flailing. Do you have any idea what I did today, what joyous music and ethereal light broke forth from the heavens over the wondrous discovery I made within the four linoleumed walls of my little kitchen?

People, I shredded potatoes. With my food processor. For. The. Very. First. Time.

Take it in. Breathe deeply. Raise your arms and praise the heavens along with me. I know you want to. Do you feel a little victory jig coming on? Let it happen. I know I did. And if you start squealing, or maybe even hopping, well, you’re in good company.

I don’t know why this always seemed like such an impossibility. Oh sure, other people could shred cabbage and carrots in their food processor, but me, I just had to julienne the cabbage into tiny ruffly lines by hand until my fingers bled, because their machine was a fancy one that they registered for when they got married, or maybe because they were real food professionals, and me, well, I never even went to cooking school, or, or, I know!, it’s because their parents taught them how to ski when they were little, and listened to rock music on the radio and let them eat chocolate every once in a while, that’s it, I’m sure of it, I know. Knowing how to shred things with a food processor is, like, a genetic gift.

I can be so stupid. After all, when Ben’s mother gave me her Robot Coupe two years ago, along with a set of extra grating and shredding inserts, I had such high hopes ("carrot salad!" dream on, girlie). And then I promptly put them into hiding in my cupboards and made sure they didn’t see the light of day since. Oh sure, I made many a pie crust in that thing, and bread and hummus and pesto and meatloaf. But did I even grate a single potato? Nope, non, nein.

Tonight, home before nine for the first time in a week, and on a whim (I had turnips in my CSA delivery, and potatoes, and a recipe on the CSA handout from Martha Stewart for turnip-flecked potato latkes), I finally dug out one of those little metal inserts – so utterly unconvincing and yet also intimidating. Fully convinced it wouldn’t even fit, I banged it around on the food processor and then, lo! It snapped into place. Still operating dully in disbelief, and with the motor on, I quartered a russet potato, and slowly dropped it in the feed tube.

That, my friends, is when the heavens opened with the voices of angels. Shredded potatoes! In my kitchen! Look!

Oh, the possibilities. I know, I know – admitting this discovery is probably like when I told you all that I had never really realized the location of my broiler: hu-mi-li-aaaaay-ting. Whatever. I’m over it. The victory jig ensued. There was squealing. And hopping. And more squealing (maybe even yelling). My food processor shreds things! It’s a bloody miracle.

Oh, and the latkes? Eh. They were fine – a little sharp from the
grated turnip, nicely crispy on the outside, and still soft on the
inside. I added an egg to bind them, and kind of wished I could
concentrate on something other than the miracle of grated vegetables to
figure out what herb to liven these up with (Ben, later, had the genius
idea of smearing them with a bit of apple butter, in lieu of apple
sauce). If I’m totally honest, I’m not much of a potato pancake kind of
girl.

But let’s think about this for a second. Who really cares?

My food processor knows how to shred!
Gluten-Free For a Day

October 24, 2007

It’s just past 7:00, the sky is still that grayish mauve, and I’m standing in the kitchen, rooting through our cupboards. A mug of milky tea, brewed by Ben for me while I still lay in bed, blinking away the fog of my final dream of the night, is on the counter next to me, steam twisting off of it like a gossamer scarf. I pluck a few dried figs from a plastic packet and chew them as I contemplate a can of oatmeal, a box of Grape-Nuts, a stale chocolate cookie meant for the trash. But none of them will do for my breakfast, you see, because today I’m going gluten-free. And I’m totally unprepared.

Never mind, I tell myself, and get ready for work. I pass a Whole Foods on the way to the office, and I’ll just stop in there to collect my breakfast – after all, it’s probably a mecca for someone who can’t tolerate gluten because they suffer from celiac disease. I ride the train into the city, looking out at the passing neighborhoods, seeing the skyline grow closer. My stomach rumbles. Why am I doing this again?

Shauna, at Gluten-Free Girl, was diagnosed with celiac disease just a few years ago. After a lifetime of mysterious illness, she finally knew the culprit: gluten, those little strands of protein found in wheat and barley and rye and oats. All she’d have to do to feel better is cut out the gluten from her life entirely. No more bread, no more pasta, no soy sauce, no blue cheese. But instead of feeling deprived, like I’m sure I’d feel, Shauna was empowered by her diagnosis. She saw it as a new lease on life. With her first book now for sale, she’s working tirelessly to make other celiac sufferers feel less alone, less deprived, less lost in this whole maze of labels and warnings and restrictions.

I can’t really imagine life with a restriction like that. I have no
food allergies and my pickiness is contained to a green herb or two. So
I’ve decided to challenge myself, walk a day in someone else’s shoes,
and go gluten-free the whole day long. Easy-peasy, right? Well, I’m at Whole Foods, having walked past the display of fresh muffins and scones – all of them off-limits – and am standing in the cereal aisle, completely overwhelmed. Almost everything is off-limits. The things that seem like they might be okay don’t explicitly say so. The one box that is gluten-free is Bob’s Red Mill hot cereal, which I know Shauna’s written about, but I can’t fix hot cereal at the office. So I grab a yogurt (after staring at the label for what feels like ages) and a sweet bar of sesame seeds and quinoa and march off to work, feeling somewhat defeated.

My breakfast is odd – too sweet and too processed – and I can’t help but feel a little resentful. Wasn’t Whole Foods supposed to make this easy for me? Never mind – lunch will be different. I’m meeting a good friend at City Bakery, where the salad bar’s panoply of fresh vegetables and interesting grains is certain to satisfy. Except once I get there and pace back and forth in front of the platters of food, I’m wracked with nerves. The chicken’s off-limits due to the breadcrumb coating on one version and the soy sauce in the other. Ditto for the Chinese noodles, the quesadillas, the cornbread-crusted catfish. I ask about the King Ranch casserole, timidly volunteering that I’m gluten-free and feeling like an absolute fraud, but all I get is an apologetic shrug – no one knows if it’s gluten-free and I’m not feeling brave enough to insist on an answer.

Eventually, I choose stewy red peppers, mushrooms with herbs, roasted Jerusalem artichokes and, after much deliberation, three rectangles of marinated tofu with chili sauce. I feel lost and ignorant and it frustrates me to no end. It’s delicious, of course, but something else I hate to admit bubbles up inside me – it’d taste so much better with a piece of bread to mop it up. Two meals, and I’m already waving a white flag? Pathetic, I know. My admiration for Shauna’s enthusiasm and gusto only grows.

Luckily, the afternoon is so busy with work that I entirely miss my usual four o’clock slump when I have to skulk to the vending machine for a packet of pretzels that get me through until dinner. After work, I walk over to Grand Central, where I’ve been invited to a private tasting event at Grand Central Market. (Which makes me wish I had my daily commute from there instead of Penn Station – Wild Edibles and Penzeys and Murray’s Cheese and so many others under one roof? It’s amazing.) I say no to caviar on blini, salmon on toast, delicate pastries, coconut-crusted chicken. A plate of antipasti rolls by and I snag a few sundried tomatoes, a mini ball of mozzarella and later on, a delectable slice of Constant Bliss. But I keep having to pipe up about the wheat and the gluten and no one seems to know – I get blank looks, apologetic shrugs, and well-meaning offers of "vegetarian meatballs, with breadcrumbs!". Eventually, it all gets to be too much, but before I leave, the kindly folks at Zaro press a plastic bag of fresh bread in my hands. I smile at the irony and say my goodbyes.

I call Ben from the station – he’s at home with fresh fish that he bought for dinner. With me on the phone, he goes through our cupboards: two boxes of couscous (no and no), some pasta (no). I wonder, in irritation, if dinner tonight for me will be fish and nothing else. But then, Ben triumphantly announces the discovery of a few grains of wild rice mix – we’re on. When I finally arrive home, the scent of fresh bread wafting tauntingly from my bag, I’m exhausted. We sit down to dinner – pan-roasted tilapia, more beet salad, and wild rice, nourishing and wholesome. But for some reason, I barely enjoy the meal.

It hasn’t been so bad, my gluten-free day, if I’m honest, but the
constant vigilance is what gets to me. Every day you have to be on your
toes, aware, not afraid to ask or refuse or reorder. Your health and
well-being is on the line and no amount of eye-rolling or dogged
questioning can deter you. I will never forget Shauna’s experience in the Atlanta airport after returning from Italy – and that’s what’s on my mind the most tonight as I chew. Because I take food for granted, I do. As well as my good health.

My eyes have been opened.
Chez Panisse’s Butternut Squash Risotto

October 22, 2007

I've been reading Alan Weisman's The World Without Us over the past few weeks. Usually, I breeze through books in a few hours flat, but I can only take a little bit of this one at a time. I read part of a chapter each night before bed, then close the book feeling slightly wide-eyed and totally desperate. It's tough to read this book without feeling that life on earth really is rather futile and pointless, and I'm sure I don't need to tell anyone that this isn't exactly a helpful attitude to have if you're trying to be a normal, functioning human being with hopes and dreams and goals (who wants to end up like George Sibley, after all?).

We drove out to a nature preserve on Long Island yesterday, past empty strip malls and prefab homes, down winding lanes and old stone walls. We ended up in a tiny 6-car parking lot where the air was light and clean and almost entirely quiet except for the very gentle wind in the trees and the occasional bird calling out and the usual hustle and bustle of chipmunks skittering over the moist earth and softly rotting leaves. We sat in our car with the doors open and ate sandwiches Ben had made, chewing quietly in order not to disturb the aural peace, then made our way through the grassy paths – hot underfoot from the strange October sun – to the cooler, darker, sun-dappled forest. Fallen tree trunks, covered in moss and lichen, blocked our path now and then, and the crackling twigs and leaves that heralded our arrival made birds and smaller animals flit away in a small flurry of movement. The forest smelled fresh and piney.

Our winding path led us to a grassy bluff overlooking the Long Island Sound. We took our shoes off and walked up and down the beach, picking up opalescent rocks, creamy-white quahog shells, and weathered sticks of driftwood. We watched seagulls feast on their lunch, dashing mussels on the rocks, diving underwater and coming back up with their beaks smacking, picking at little and not-so-little crabs. Regular gourmands, those gulls. The Sound was a deep, dark blue – the color of my great-aunt Luisa's silk wedding dress – and lapped at the shore soothingly. We passed a lone couple splayed out on a blanket fast asleep and I could almost feel the cool, wet sand under my shoulder blades as I watched them out of the corner of my eyes.

On our drive back home again I tried hard to hold onto the sounds of the ocean and the forest. But it's harder than you think, once winding bridle paths give way to turnpikes and local highways. Plus, Led Zeppelin was on the radio, and I can't ever turn off Led Zeppelin – it reminds me of Berlin and the people I grew up with, 8th grade dances on a ski trip in Austria and the absolutely glorious awkwardness of youth. Those are memories I've always got time for. The nature preserve fell further and further behind us, and we daydreamed about the day when we'll live by the ocean full-time – writing, making music, sipping tea. It's mostly an illusion, but these conversations move life forward, I suspect, keeping our gears oiled and running.

Forgive me, readers, but at home I took one look at my newspaper recipe files and turned away. I've read them through one too many times lately, can't seem to find the enthusiasm right now to make my way through another one just yet. Instead, I went to the fridge and poked through the various bags of CSA produce sitting in the crisper drawers, finding half a butternut squash, some crusty-looking beets, limpish kale, a dusty-brown head of garlic (well, that wasn't in the fridge) and a bundle of soft sage. Ben wandered in and wondered out loud if we shouldn't just order. I shooed him out again.

With Chez Panisse Vegetables open on the counter, I started roasting the beets for salad (page 44), cubing the butternut squash for risotto (page 282) and gently frying rosemary and garlic for the beans and kale (page 40). The beets sweetened and mellowed in the oven. I slipped off their thickish skins and sliced them thinly, then dressed them with nothing but flaky salt, olive oil and vinegar. The cubed squash simmered gently in sage-scented broth, while rice toasted in oil and butter and the onions grew translucent from the heat. The risotto, green-flecked and squash-studded, was sweet and faintly chewy – the squash toothsome and yielding. The crispy, fried sage leaves broke with the tiniest of crackles under the tines of our forks. The beans, canned, because life is sometimes not ready for dried, grew melting and stewy in their rosemary oil bath, and the chopped kale cooked down silkily around them. Drizzled with a greenish thread of fresh olive oil, the greens and beans were pleasingly herbal and earthy.

It was a good dinner, after a good day, despite the pinprick of melancholy I couldn't shake. The routine of preparing a meal and feeding the people you love: it never really gets old. That's part of what keeps us going, I suppose, routines and love and stupid, foolish hope that we won't really destroy the very thing that enables our existence.

Butternut Squash Risotto
Serves 6 to 8

1 medium butternut squash (about 1 pound)
24 sage leaves
Salt and pepper
7 to 8 cups chicken stock
1 medium onion
5 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 cups Arborio rice
1/2 cup dry white wine
1/2 cup Parmigiano Reggiano, grated

1. Peel and clean the squash, then dice it into very small cubes. Put the diced squash in a heavy-bottomed pan with a few whole sage leaves, salt and 1 cup of the chicken stock. Bring to a simmer and cook until tender, but not too soft, about 5 to 10 minutes. Meanwhile, chop 6 sage leaves fine and cut the onion into small dice.

2. Heat the rest of the stock and hold at a low simmer. In another heavy-bottomed saucepan, heat 3 tablespoons of butter, add the chopped sage and cook for a minute or so; add the onion and continue to cook over medium heat until translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the rice and a pinch of salt and cook over low heat for about 3 minutes, stirring often, until the rice has turned slightly translucent. Turn up the heat and pour in the white wine. When the wine has been absorbed, add just enough hot stock to cover the rice, stir well and reduce the heat.

3. Keep the rice at a gently simmer and continue to add more stock, a ladle or two at a time, letting each addition be absorbed by the rice. While the rice is cooking, saute the remaining sage leaves in butter until crisp.

4. After 15 minutes, the rice will be nearly cooked. Stir in the cooked squash, the rest of the butter and the cheese. Continue cooking for 3 to 5 minutes, stirring often. Taste for texture and consistency, adding more stock if necessary. Adjust the seasoning. When done, serve in warm bowls and garnish with crisp sage leaves, and more cheese if desired.
Regina Schrambling’s Chicken and Orzo with Lemon and Olives

October 15, 2007

The block continues, I'll be honest, though at least complaining about it seems to have unleashed some crazy sort of energy in me. After my last post, I suddenly felt freed – marched myself over to the corner salon and got a pedicure (Essie Bordeaux – so hottt), then planted myself determinedly in front of the computer on Friday night, with two lukewarm, sweetish, perfectly chewy char siu bao for dinner. Two episodes of The Office and one of Grey's Anatomy (does anyone agree that this show has jumped the shark? I am losing interest, swiftly – or maybe it's just tough to follow the genius of Steve Carell) later, I felt somewhat renewed. The next day, using all this new-found energy, I scoured the apartment within an inch of its life – cable wires and armoire carvings and window ledges have never sparkled with such lustre.

I also cooked like a madwoman – applesauce (recipe here, sans meringue, and next time I'd use less vanilla or none at all – but other than that it was delicious, lip-smackingly so) and chocolate-chip cookies (these, which in my opinion are The Best, though I didn't have enough brown sugar or time, so they didn't turn out quite as perfectly as they usually do, but if you follow Debbie's instructions, you will be on Chocolate Chip Cookie Cloud Nine, I promise), and apple butter (much tested in the blogosphere, but originating here and oh-so-wonderful – especially in plain Liberte yogurt, try it if you don't believe me… it might be my best snack yet), but also this one-pot meal from the same article as the collard squares.

It was tasty and easy – who knew that oven-cooking orzo with chicken broth rendered the orzo practically creamy? The lemons gave the dish an interesting, bitter bite and the olives provided a pleasing, salty kick. It kept us fed for two days and is the kind of meal you can get on the stove while you simultaneously zip up and down in your building feeling a little bit like Eloise though minus the pet raisin-eating turtle and hardy English nanny, to get your laundry in and out of the machines while your boyfriend scrubs the tub and moans for respite every once in a while (oh please, like I'm taking pity on you, I scrubbed the cable wires, for crying out loud, though actually, after reading this, I've decided that's the last time we clean with our old, toxic cleaning supplies – it's Blog Action Day, people! I'm taking action.) which, if you think about, is a pretty good kind of dinner to have in your arsenal.

(Is anyone else wondering where I'm going with all of this?)

(Nowhere, is where! Absolutely nowhere.)

The best part of the weekend, which was already shaping up to be pretty great (apparently cleaning and television-watching is all I need for happiness – tragic, I know), was that Deb and Alex and Shauna and Danny and Shauna's sweet friends all trekked out valiantly to Forest Hills, where we had a completely delightful meal at danny brown Wine Bar & Kitchen and talked gluten-free flours and flopping flans until we were gently nudged out the door (not only was our waiter, Tim, so super-charming, but the staff let us linger far past their Sunday closing time and had nothing but smiles and thanks for us when we left – gracious and delicious, that place is a gem). There's nothing like spending time with your Internet buddies, really.

And with that, mercifully, this manic post comes to an end. Thanks for reading, everyone! Let's hope things improve soon. I'm off to eat my weight in chocolate-chip cookies. Maybe that will inspire me.

Chicken and Orzo with Lemon and Olives
Serves 4

8 chicken drumsticks (I used four whole chicken legs)
Salt, pepper to taste
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 1/2 cups orzo
3 cups chicken broth
1 large clove garlic, minced
1 small lemon, cut into 8 wedges
1 teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
3/4 cup pitted Kalamata olives
1 large bay leaf
3 tablespoons chopped fresh oregano, divided (I used 1 tablespoon of dried oregano)

1. Heat the oven to 350 degrees. Season the chicken legs well on all sides with 1 1/2 teaspoons salt and 1 teaspoon pepper.

2. In a Dutch oven or large stockpot, heat the olive oil over medium-high heat. Working in batches, brown the legs well on all sides, about 5 minutes. Remove from the pan.

3. Add the orzo, chicken stock, garlic, lemon wedges and juice, olives, bay leaf and 1 tablespoon of the oregano. Stir to combine all the ingredients, then return the chicken to the pan. Cover and transfer to the oven. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, until the chicken is done (the meat will be firm and its juices will run clear). Taste and adjust the seasoning if necessary, sprinkle with the remaining oregano and serve.

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