Joy is Cooking

baking my brains out

2009-11-01T20:13:00.006-06:00

I don't know where the month of October went. It seems like I blinked and all of a sudden the days are shorter, the air is colder and orange, red and yellow leaves blanket my yard in all directions. I have local Tennessee pumpkins and home-grown butternuts on the counter, waiting to get roasted, and most of my time has been taken up with baking.

Ever since I started this great new partnership baking over at dose coffee and tea, it seems my little baking business has kicked into high gear. That may be why I have less time to blog about what's going on in my home kitchen. I now have a commercial kitchen to play in where I'm creating lots of new seasonal treats and having fun testing the market.

The guys at dose really know coffee and have great things planned so I appreciate the chance to work with them. As the holidays approach and my baking heats up even more, I thought I'd share a few of the things I've been up to lately:

For the first Edgehill Village Artisan Fair

marmellata thumbprints, apple spice cakes with cream cheese frosting and (local) pumpkin spice cakes with maple glaze

cinnamon plum coffee cake (now being made with Bartlett pears)

For East Nashville's Walden Artisan Market

lemony semolina cookies

...and apple tort (a family tradition)

For a Fall Fest fundraiser for East Academy

Halloween sugar cookies

It has been a busy, creative Fall and I am enjoying the changes. I have a baby shower and a wedding cake to do in November and then...Holiday baking for special orders and parties. I like this kind of busy when, after hours of work in the kitchen, I can take stock of all I've made, see the tangible results on the counter and feel good about my progress.

Cranberry bean salad with butternut squash

2009-10-17T12:06:00.006-05:00

There is no bad way to eat butternut squash. Its warm Fall flavor is slightly sweet and when its full flavor comes out through roasting or sauteeing, it compliments so many other ingredients. I just have never met a butternut I didn't like. I know I should expand my squash repertoire and move into some other winter squashes, but I find that there is something so comforting about the butternut that keeps me coming back. It could be the pale salmon color and how great they look on the outside, compared to that eye-popping orange on the inside. (Orange happens to be my favorite color).

So another quest for butternut recipes this week led me to this wonderful side dish that would allow me to use the last of my borlotti beans from Italy. Borlotti are the beautiful red spotted beans called cranberry beans here. The color is wonderful and they look really cool when fresh and still in their pods. They have a color and a crunch that makes them the perfect compliment to softly sautéed squash and little bit of bitter greens.

I'd seen a salad like this before in one of my cookbooks, but found this recipe on Marthastewart.com. As usual, I altered it to meet my needs. The recipe calls for bacon but I didn't have any and wanted to keep it vegetarian as I was serving it alongside a classic pot roast for dinner. The salad was also delicious cold the next day for lunch. Martha's recipe also called for broccoli rabe, which I love, but it is not yet available in my local market so I substituted kale from our farmers.

(the pot roast was a simple braised beef roast that I cooked low and slow in the oven with fresh herbs, garlic, red wine and beef broth and added chopped carrots and potatoes toward the end of the cooking time. So delicious. The perfect comfort dish.)

Cranberry bean salad with butternut squash (from marthastewart.com)

1. Beans (2 lbs) should be soaked overnight and then cooked with one onion, 1 bay leaf and sevel black peppercorns, with enough water to cover beans. Bring to a boil; reduce heat and simmer until cooked through about 25 min.

2. Drain beans, reserving a little cooking water. In a medium bowl, toss beans with 1 T each olive oil and cooking liquidl season with salt and pepper. Set aside.

3. Peel and cube 1 small butternut squash. Working in batches if necessary, sautee in olive oil until lightly browned and cooked through. Season with salt and pepper and transfer to a bowl.

4. Heat 2 T olive oil and add 3 garlic cloves, minced. Sautee until golden brown. Add kale or other leafy green, saute until wilted and heated through, about 5 min. Season with salt and pepper.

5. Add beans and squash to skillet and cook just until heated through and combined. Drizzle with olive oil before serving.

Butternut squash and roasted red pepper soup

2009-10-08T09:15:00.011-05:00

Fall is definitely in the air and I love it. Ever since I moved to the South, I am happiest when the weather turns from hot and muggy Summer to crisp, clear and beautiful Fall. I really appreciate the change in seasons in the Southeast, not least because I get to cook new things!

Now is the time for winter squash: butternuts, pumpkins, acorns and kabochas. I love them because they look and taste like Fall. Before I cooked so much, I used to buy them at farmer's markets and leave them on the counter or on a table on the porch and enjoy looking at them. But now that I try to cook and eat seasonally, I look forward to the arrival of squash and all the new ways I find each year to cook and enjoy them.

I remember being in Italy last Fall and being excited that the same winter squash that we have were found in all the markets (and the menus) over there. It was late September and we visited an organic farm in Tuscany where they had a storage room full of butternuts. I could think of nothing more than putting them to good use for torellini di zucca with sage butter sauce, perhaps my all-time favorite pasta dish.

(look at all those butternuts!)

Butternut is my favorite. This week I had three on the counter from the farmer and one big one growing in my garden, so I thought I should get creative. I threw one in the oven, sliced in half, to roast while I thought about ways to use it for that night's dinner. Just then, Ben Frank posted a link on facebook to his blog with a recipe for a creamy winter squash soup. The photo was so beautiful I couldn't help but click over.

There are a million recipes for butternut squash soup, but this one struck me as very unique. It combined the sweet flavors of roasted butternut, apple juice, roasted red peppers and the heat of cayenne peppers. In addition, it started with bacon! What could be better than that? So I immediately decided this was the soup for my roasting squash. I still had a few red peppers from the farmer and a neighbor had given me a handful of cayenne peppers from her garden last week. I threw the red peppers into the oven to roast along with the squash.

I followed Ben's recipe exactly, except I substituted a cup of chicken stock for the cranberry juice. But I did use apple juice for the rest of the liquid as he calls for. At first I thought that would be a weird addition for an already sweet soup, but because of the spiciness of the peppers, the apple juice was a welcome sweetness and of course, the flavor of apples and bacon cannot be beat.

I raved about this soup for a while after dinner. I liked it so much I even brought some in a small container to my neighbors across the street to share. I thought the combination of squash and peppers, roasted until all their juicy Fall sweetness comes through, and the heat of the cayenne and other spices such as nutmeg and allspice made for a really complex flavor combination that you don't get too often in chunky Fall soups. I will return to this recipe again, I'm sure.

And, taking Ben's cue that there's no better accompaniment to soup than a grilled cheese sandwich, I served the soup with grilled camembert, provolone and fig sandwiches that were deliciously rich. All together, a perfect Fall meal.

Apple-plum pie

2009-09-29T11:52:00.007-05:00

As the weather turns cooler and the days get shorter, I welcome my favorite season and crave being in the kitchen with the stove on. I love baking even more than usual when the fruits of late summer-early Fall beckon me to create gorgeous fruit-filled pies, cakes and tarts. Now plums are on their way out, and apples and pears are just starting to appear at the farmer's markets.

Fortunately for me, there seems to always be an excuse to bake something. Like the backyard party we went to recently to which I took two homemade apple-plum pies.

I am always trying new recipes, especially for pie crust. This one is from Dorie Greenspan, a true expert on all things baked. Hers is for an old-fashioned mixed-apple pie. I tweaked it to include the plums and and left out a couple of things hers included in the filling, like tapioca and raisins, mainly because I didn't have them.
I think the 1/3 cup of vegetable shortening in the crust is what makes it "old-fashioned." You could leave it out, but it really does give an extra flakiness to the pie crust.

Everyone loved it at the party. It was a great complement to the end of summer fare the hosts provided for the last BBQ of the season, things like corn and bean salad, hot dogs and burgers, potato salad and beer.

I would serve this pie just as it is, with a small dollop of vanilla ice cream on the side.

Apple-plum pie (adapted from Dorie Greenspan, in bon appetit, Oct. 2009)

Crust
3 cups all purpose flour
1/4 cup sugar
1 1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/4 cups (2 1/2 sticks) chilled, unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1/3 cup solid veg. shortening, chilled (optional)
6 tablespoons (or more) ice water

Filling
1 1/4 lbs of apples (peeled, cored and cut into wedges)
1 lb plums, sliced into wedges
1/3 cup sugar
1/4 cup golden or dark raisins (optional)
21/2 tablespoons quick-cooking tapioca (optional)
1 1/2 tsp. finely grated lemon peel
1/4 tsp. salt
1/8 tsp. ground nutmeg
2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) chilled, unsalted butter, cut into cubes
1 tblsp. raw (turbinado) sugar (optional- for sprinkling on top)

Make dough using the food processor method (dries first, then add butter + shortening by cutting in and pulsing until it looks like cornmeal; then add ice water and blend until moist clumps form, adding more ice water if dough is dry). Gather dough into ball and divide in half. Flatten each disk, wrap in plastic and refrigerate at least 3 hours.

Butter 9-in pie dish. Roll out dough onto floured surface to 12-in round. Transfer to pie dish pressing down on sides and bottom, allowing overhang to extend over sides. Roll out second piece (for top) and chill both on baking sheet while preparing filling.

Preheat oven to 425. Combine apple and plums wedges, 1/3 cup sugar, raisins, tapioca, lemon peel, salt and nutmeg in bowl. Toss to coat fruit and let stand about 15 min.
Transfer filling to crust, mounding slightly in center. Dot filling with butter cubes. Brush edges lightly with water. Transfer second dough round atop filling; trim overhang, press edges together, then fold under. Using tines of fork, press on crust edge around rim of dish to seal. Cut some 1-inch slits with a sharp knife in top crust to allow steam to escape. Brush top lightly with milk or water and sprinkle with raw sugar.

Bake pie 15 min at 425. Reduce oven to 375 and continue to bake until crust is golden, apples are tender and juices are bubbling over, about 50 min. longer. Let cool to lukewarm or room temperature and serve.

For more fall recipes, see this pretty apple cake, or this post with some of my Fall favorites: chard gratin, moroccan sweet potatoes and farro with chickpeas and butternut squash.

N.Y.C.

2009-09-23T09:55:00.017-05:00

Why is it that there is something about every place I've ever lived (and that is a pretty long list now) that just leaves me wanting in some way. There's something lacking that's elusive and I can never explain to anyone what it is exactly, but I know it's just not there. I've lived in Rome, Florence, Boulder, CO., Oregon, Seattle, Las Vegas and now Nashville, TN. But none of them can compare to New York.

You know I'm not talking about quality of life, or beauty, or weather, community or the cost of living. All of those things can be found in other places and the places I've lived have New York beat on all of those fronts. But what matters to me most--the deal breaker of all deal breakers-- is the FOOD. And for this, New York must be the best city in the world.

I've been many times before and have always had great food, but no other trip was as packed with fantastic dining experiences as this one. We had four days and four nights of amazing meals, all of them a tribute to this gastronomically great city, and all of them a result of my brother's uncanny ability to be at the right place at the right time. It was his 40th birthday that occasioned this weekend in NYC with the whole family. And it was perfect that we spent it with him in his world, eating in his favorite places (all places where he's worked) and meeting the people who have influenced him on his new path of culinary discovery. I couldn't be happier for him.

So it was that the first night started out with one of the simplest and best meals of the weekend. Greg worked at Vinegar Hill House in Brooklyn when it first opened, less than a year ago. His friend, the chef and co-owner, Jean Adamson was the chef at Freeman's where he bartended for a couple of years and where he first started to love food. Jean played a big part in that.

She is the kind of chef I would like to be if I had those professional ambitions. She's competent, super skilled, understands seasonal food and classic preparations and is at once sweet and modest, capable and confident. A strong woman in a man's world.

Vinegar Hill House
I will let the real food critics' reviews do the talking, (Frank Bruni wrote about Vinegar Hill in August) and I'll just tell you briefly what we ate and enjoyed. There is a lot of great food to talk about here, so get ready.

A plate of farmstead cheese and salami with homemade crackers and pickled quail eggs was brought to the table first. It was perfect in every way. Then we had some salads: shaved market vegetables, little Japanese eggplants that were so simple and good, a watermelon salad with feta, olives and mint, a roasted corn salad and a simple plate of some of the freshest lettuce I've ever tasted. It was all beautiful and the ingredients really stood out as farm fresh and local. Indeed, we ran into Jean the next day at the Union Square Farmer's Market buying produce for that evening's menu.

For mains, we had housemade pappardelle with pork sugo, an amazing cast iron chicken, and what is arguably their most popular dish, the Red Wattle pork chop (above) that melted in your mouth. I think there was a fish on the table too but I don't even remember it. I do remember the desserts, however. A specialty of the house: rich chocolate Guinness cake and my favorite, an almond cherry crostata that was the perfect homespun ending to that meal. And that was just the first night!

Day two was spent walking around in Chinatown and Little Italy, where I visited DiPalo's Market and the historic Alleva Cheeses. Then we made our way uptown and strolled through the Union Square Greenmarket where the produce was practically jumping out of the stalls it was so attractive. It didn't hurt that it was a picture perfect Fall day in New York. We had lunch at a little walk-up pizza place where they served beer in 32-oz styrofoam cups and you sat on the sidewalk with loads of others lining up for a slice of their namesake artichoke and spinach pie.

Roberta's
Dinner was a treat of the sort that's hard to duplicate anywhere else except at Roberta's in Bushwick, Brooklyn. Carlo Mirarchi, the chef, and his partners own this club-house for foodies where a wood-fired oven brought from Italy fires out pizzas day and night, and a continuously evolving roster of meats --lamb, pork (heavy on the pork), beef, duck and chicken vie for space on the picnic table in a lively, young atmosphere. Wine is poured by knowledgeable servers into little mason jars and out back the shipping container used to ship the oven now holds a studio where the Heritage Radio Network presents webcasts on all things food and farming, and an organic garden sits on top.

I blogged about Roberta's when I visited my brother last November. I thought it was great back then and it's only gotten better. This place could not be anywhere else but in an industrial area of Brooklyn where creative people with heartfelt ambitions get together and roast a pig for fun or, with help from a donation from Alice Waters, fund a greenhouse on top of a shipping container in the back of the restaurant, soon to expand to more gardens that will supply all of the produce for the restaurant. Talk about local. It's is such a cool and inspiring place.

Oh, and the food. Read more about it here, but let's just say we rolled out of there happy and stuffed and well taken care of. Carlo brought us a salumi and cheese plate first, followed by apples with bacon and walnuts, then a delicious testa (pig's head) ravioli, and then a remarkably good tripe in a spicy ragu that was as good as any I've had in Italy.

We thought that would be it, but the formidable chef Carlo wanted to do something special for my brother who used to work beside him in the kitchen when they first opened, and brought out the largest pork shoulder I've ever seen. Slow cooked all day, it was perfectly charred on the outside, soft and juicy and falling apart on the inside and served with dark greens and tiny fingerling potatoes. An awesome dish.

[Writing this, I can barely handle this blog post and its litany of incredible food (imagine how much fun it was!) and I am so grateful for my brother's guiding us around the city's current culinary hot spots. I felt like a famous food writer or critic and I enjoyed every minute of it (and every pound I put on afterward). It is no coincidence that passion for cooking and love of good food runs in our family.]

Minetta Tavern
And now, for the grand finale: My brother's birthday dinner at Minetta Tavern. To say that we are lucky, again, is an understatement. This place was reviewed and given 3 stars by Frank Bruni recently, who says they are "serving the best steaks in the city" right now. (Listen to his own words and see the pics here, since I was too enthralled and the lighting to dark to take any).

this photo courtesy of the NYTimes.

It is impossible to get a reservation at this West Village hot spot and the celebs and big shots flock in to experience the latest in the Keith McNally empire of NY restaurants. A Paris bistro meets old timey New York steakhouse where the ingredients and execution are near perfection and the atmosphere is infinitely more fun than a stuffy white tablecloth dining room. We started with a glass of bubbly and a dozen Long Island oysters. Appetizers included an heirloom tomato salad that was superb in its simplicity, squid stuffed with salt cod, peppers, olives and preserved lemon, eggplant salad, steak, veal and lamb tartare and oxtail and fois gras terrine.

We could have stopped there and it still would have been one of the best meals I've ever had. But what came next exceeded all my expectations for what steak should taste like. First they brought out their famous Black Label burger with carmelized onions and pomme frites. We cut it into five pieces and raved. Then, the piece de resistance: a Dry Aged Cote du Boeuf with roasted marrow bones that they presented to the table whole and then returned with it sliced. And did I mention the tender New York Strip that accompanied that? It was more meat than I've ever seen, much less eaten. I've never tasted beef so melt-in-your-mouth good. They are justly famous for this and it is the way steak should be prepared, cooked, presented and enjoyed. Perfection.

I won't go into the chocolate soufflé or the pistachio gelato or the chocolate, coffee and vanilla pots de cremes.

To say this was one of the better meals of my life would not be an exaggeration. I felt like it was MY birthday! I know my brother enjoyed it too. It's always fun to be on the other side of the house pretending to be a customer in the place where you toil for hours sight unseen. I am so proud of him for being a cook at Minetta and working in a kitchen of that caliber. I met his chef, Riad Nasr, earlier in the day when we ran into him on the street. He seemed too nice to be such a killer chef. But that must be what makes it all so successful: there is so much heart in the food and pride in the place. An all-around superb dining experience.

Whew. I'm too tired and this is too long to go on about the other places that we visited during the day: Babycakes and Orchard 88 coffee, Ninth Street Espresso, The Donut Plant, La Esquina and Prune for lunch. What a culinary tour of delights. After all that, my stomach may need a break, but my heart is still in New York.

Melanzane

2009-09-16T09:57:00.006-05:00

I'm still in produce surplus mode. Gearing up for a trip to NYC this weekend and knowing I won't be able to use all the beautiful veggies that arrived in my market basket this week and feeling strapped for time. This shining purple eggplant really tugged at my heart strings, though. "Do something with me, please! Don't let me go to the compost heap!"

So I spent a couple of hours in the kitchen yesterday afternoon. The time spent putting up produce for later in the year when we will be needing a burst of summer is time well spent, even if it means that after 3 hours in the kitchen I still have to make dinner. But I have these beauties to look forward to:

Eggplant and peppers in garlic oil. Oh how I look forward to cracking one of these open some cold day in January and spreading it over bruschetta with goat cheese, or layered onto a homemade pizza margherita. Or just offered up alone on a dish as an antipasto for guests.

I have a book called "Preserving the Harvest" that has been my go-to tome for learning about canning and freezing the summer's bounty. I have made strawberry-rhubarb jam, pickled peppers and shallots, and now this. All have been wonderful canning recipes and great ways to use the produce that's lingering around in late summer.

I roasted the sliced, unpeeled eggplant under the broiler for about 20 min. Then I did the same with the peppers until they browned nicely and softened.

The peppers were beautiful to begin with, most of them from our farmer and a few stragglers from our garden. but coming out of the oven with their skins blackened and smelling sweet they were even better. I let them cool in a brown paper bag, then peeled and quartered them.

While they cooled, I heated a cup of olive oil, 3/4 cup of vinegar of any kind, 3 garlic cloves, chopped, and a teaspoon of red pepper flakes. Simmer that for about 5 minutes. Then, in 3 clean mason jars, I layered the eggplant and the peppers with large basil leaves in between.

Then I poured the hot garlic oil over each jar until it comes up over the veggies but leaving about an inch of headspace. I did not process these jars because I only made three and will give one away to a neighbor. They will last unopened in the fridge for a while and I don't think we'll be able to wait much longer than that. If I had wanted to store them long-term, I could have processed them in a hot water bath canner for 20 minutes.

On another occasion, I might have made this with my eggplant, like I did a few weeks ago. Melanzane alla parmigiana is one of the best ways I know to eat this late summer veg. I learned mine from Carla the Tuscan cook last Fall and it is particularly cheesy and delicious, a typical Sicilian dish made with several types of cheese, not necessarily parmigiano. I happened to have mozzarella and pecorino on hand and they blended well. The key is using your own homemade tomato sauce and I don't bread or fry the eggplant first. I slice and roast it in the oven on 400 until it's soft and lightly browned. Then, layer the eggplant slices with the tomato sauce and cheeses, add some fresh basil for color, and bake until bubbling and delicious-looking.

Too much of a good thing? *

2009-09-08T10:34:00.013-05:00

If you're like me, you enjoy using different recipes for the same thing and never making the same dinner twice. I make a different pie crust almost every time I make a pie - which is pretty often. I also always seem to try totally new (and sometimes) challenging things when I've invited people for dinner. So it's never dull in my kitchen.

But sometimes when the summer nears the end and the veggies just keep on coming, I find myself getting tired of always coming up with new ways to use that yellow squash that never stops. This post is about some of the more successful ways I've used the surplus of produce this summer--dishes that I may just have to repeat next year.

1. Squash

yellow squash soup with shrimp, basil and creme fraiche

This soup was light and easy to make. It starts with sautéeing onions and yellow squash with thyme until soft, then adding vegetable broth, puréeing it, and adding a dollop of heavy cream at the end to give it balance. I sautéed the shrimp separately in olive oil and chile flakes just until done and added them to the soup with fresh basil and a drizzle of sour cream or creme fraiche before serving. Super easy and super fresh.

2. Corn

tomato and corn salad

I got tired this summer of eating corn on the cob so I started grilling or boiling it and and adding it to salads and slaws for extra crunch and sweetness. In this particular salad, I cut the corn off first and sautéed it in butter for just a few minutes before adding it to the tomatoes. A revelation. Corn does not have to be boiled! It was the perfect complement to this sausage and pepper sandwich. For another great summer salad recipe with corn, see my "farmer's salad" from an earlier post.

3. Potatoes

tortilla española

This is by far my favorite way to use potatoes in the summer. I learned how to make it while traveling in Spain when the gardener at the house where we stayed would bring potatoes and huge yellow onions in from the garden each day expecting us to know what to do with them. I learned quickly that this is the classic combination of these two ingredients and I never got tired of eating it. It's just a fritatta really, but the key is slicing the onions and the potatoes thinly and frying them first before adding the lightly beaten eggs. If you use a large skillet it can be inverted onto a plate pretty easily and then cut into pie-like wedges. In Spain they serve it cold or room temperature, drizzled with a good olive oil or dolloped with a dill sour cream. Serve alongside a simple green salad for the perfect summer lunch.

4. Peppers

pickled peppers with shallots and thyme

I found this recipe by Molly Wizenberg in bon appetit and loved the sound of it. I had a bunch of different kinds of peppers that made it really colorful. I really got into the canning this year and 'put up' 4 jars of of these peppers as well as a couple of jars of sweet pickles. I haven't tried these peppers yet, but I look forward to opening them up in the middle of winter for a fresh taste of summer veg!

**If you have a garden or joined a CSA this year, what are some of your favorite ways to use extra produce?

* This is my 101st post! (too much of a good thing?)

Italian green beans

2009-09-02T09:18:00.006-05:00

As much as I love vegetables and enjoy eating seasonally and learning what grows where and when, I don't remember ever thinking this way when I was young. I didn't grow up on or even near a farm and come to think of it, neither did my parents. We just didn't have that context to draw from when thinking about food. But my mother was Italian and her family did preserve many traditions surrounding food that informed her cooking in an interesting way.

For example, these green beans that were one of my favorites. Whether we ate them in winter or summer, they were readily available like most produce. But now that I know they are a staple of late summer, I look forward to preparing them in my own kitchen as soon as I see them in the market. They almost have a Fall-ish taste to me now too. Maybe that is because they combine the produce of late summer--tomatoes and green beans-- and for me, somehow mark the transition from one season to the next.

There are many different varieties of green beans --some of them not even green, but yellow and purple, though they taste exactly the same. I prefer the ones sometimes called 'Italian green beans' or Romano beans --the long, skinny green ones--for this recipe. But I did find out recently that the purple ones turn green when you cook them anyway, so if you have these now in your CSA basket like we do, go ahead and use them for this recipe.

They need to be cooked only briefly so they retain their snap. My mom may have been guilty of cooking some vegetables overly long, as was the style in her day. But these green beans she cooked just perfectly and used just the right amount of chunky tomatoes and onions. She sometimes served them along with Italian sausage and that is what I was trying to emulate in this dinner. I love the way our taste memory can take us back to some earlier time when we enjoyed something in exactly the same way. When I took the first bite of this dish, all of those flavors combined in a way that transported me back to when I was young and first discovered how good a fresh green bean can taste.

Italian green beans

1 lb fresh green beans, washed
3-4 medium tomatoes, chopped, or 1 can whole-peeled
1 yellow onion
green or yellow peppers, chopped (optional)
1 lb sweet or spicy cooked Italian sausage (optional)
1-2 cloves of garlic
salt and pepper

Start by sauteeing garlic and onion in olive oil. If adding peppers, add them now and let cook another 5 min. When softened, add the chopped tomatoes and cook for about 5 min.
Add the green beans to the tomatoes and onions and cover skillet with a lid. Let them cook until still al dente and mixed well with the other ingredients, about 7 min.
In another pan or on the grill, heat sausage and brown for a few minutes.

Season green beans with salt and pepper to taste. For a perfect meal, serve with sausage and some good crusty Tuscan bread on the side.

my tribute to Julia

2009-08-24T10:00:00.011-05:00

I am not a French cook and I don't rely heavily on Julia Child's recipes in my own kitchen. But the 'Julia hype' was all over the blogs, the magazines and the airwaves this month and for good reason. When I got to thinking about how she influenced me just by who she was and what she did, I realized I, too, just had to pay tribute.

After all, she didn't start to learn to cook until she was 37 years old and when I read this in her memoir two years ago, it is one of the things that motivated me to start this blog and devote so many hours to learning and cooking and experimenting over the last two years in my own kitchen. That summer I also read Julie Powell's book, Julie and Julia, and loved it. She seemed like a girl after my own heart.

Julia's birthday was on Aug. 15, coinciding nicely with the release of the new film Julie and Julia, based on these two books. I went to see the movie on the afternoon of its opening day. I took myself as a treat and sat there in the overly-air-conditioned movie theater on a hot summer day, smiling and crying and thoroughly enjoying myself. I loved the scenes shot in Paris in the markets and Meryl Streep's impersonation was almost as good as watching old footage of Julia Child's early TV program, The French Chef. I watched those, too, last week on PBS, experiencing her for the first time in the original format and fell in love with her all over again.

So, I decided since I was having people over for dinner one night last week, why not combine our dinner party with one of Julia's menus for a celebration in her honor. I used the recent bon appetit article from the August issue as my inspiration (with links to those recipes here). Even though I have Julia's Mastering the Art of French Cooking, I seem to read it more like a textbook than actually cooking from it. There is something about it that is so technical but also so accessible and I can see why it was such a seminal cookbook that enjoyed 47 editions!

This menu started out with this beautiful, flaky tart, a pissaladière nicoise. It really was a delicious crust and the salty anchovies, black olives and sautéed onions were a classic combination. It was a basic pate brisèe tart crust, but in addition to the butter, there were 2 tablespoons of chilled vegetable shortening--not my usual fare, but it really did make for a flaky and beautiful tart crust.

The main course was poulet sautè aux herbes de Provence. In true Julia form, I bought a whole organic chicken from the market and cut it up into eight pieces myself. I was proud of myself for doing that, as if it were some major accomplishment. But really, growing up in the age of ready-made and plastic-wrapped everything, it makes me feel self-sufficient and somehow cool to be able to save money by buying a nice chicken and cutting it up myself. It came out great. As you can probably guess, the distinguishing factor of this preparation is the use of traditional herbs like thyme, basil and fennel seeds, plus garlic, and sautèeing the chicken pieces in a whole stick of butter. It was delicious, subtle in flavor, moist and had good color due to the browning in butter.

The sauce was a little too French for my tastes, combining egg yolks whisked with wine and lemon juice over low heat while adding the reserved pan juices a little at a time. It tasted and looked heavy to me and I ended up serving it on the side instead of pouring it over the chicken. But everyone loved it.

(photo courtesy bon appetit, because mine didn't look that pretty)

I also made Julia's Ratatouille recipe (above), which involves more steps than the one I usually make, but it was nice and fragrant and more of a stew than usual. I liked it, but it was no big revelation. The season is right for it though, and I just happened to have a large purple eggplant, peppers and tomatoes from the garden and I used yellow squash instead of the zucchini the recipe called for. I don't think it would have made a big difference.

I served a simple green salad with vinaigrette and a basket of crusty French bread on the side. We drank a lovely French chardonnay and I served a sample of locally made artisan chocolate from the new Olive and Sinclair chocolate company for dessert.

It was a simple and fun meal, one that I am not likely to make again soon, but a fitting tribute to a woman who certainly inspired me and who, almost fifty years later, continues to inspire so many cooks around the world. Thank you, Julia!

Tomato Time, Memphis, TN

2009-08-14T09:59:00.016-05:00

There is something to be said for keeping traditions alive, even when times are tough. For example, the East Nashville Tomato Art Fest went off without a hitch and was the most well-attended in their 6 year history, despite the beastly temperatures on August 8th.

And, although it's mid August and we should be deep into tomatoes by now, many (including mine except for a few early ones) are languishing on the vine, refusing to ripen. Our farmer who supplies our CSA says he lost over 600 tomato plants this year due to a 'blight' - the same one perhaps that seems to have affected the crops all over the Northeast. One of the perils of organic farming is that refusing to use pesticides and chemical fertilizers can also mean losing an entire crop.

But all of this was not enough to stop Connie Adams of Memphis, TN. My good friend Galloway's mother, Connie was one of the first people I met when I arrived in the South four years ago, on my move from Colorado to Nashville. She welcomed me into her home and what a home it was. It was August then too and her kitchen was filled with women of all ages, suited up in aprons and deep into Tomato Time, the traditional canning party that takes place at Connie's every year at this time. It's been going on for more than 20 years now and every August family members--children, nieces, grandmothers, aunts and cousins-- and friends old and new get together to put up hundreds of jars of tomatoes over four days in what has to be one of the best food traditions in the South.

After that first time I told myself I had to come back and learn from these women. So this year, when Connie invited me to come, I didn't hesitate to accept her invitation. Now that food and its preparation is becoming more and more an integral part of my life, I was more excited than ever to learn how to can tomatoes from these professionals.

And what I learned was valuable in more ways than one. I learned that you can't stuff the jars too tight or they may break in the boiling water. I learned that having the proper equipment is very important. And I learned that the more hands you have, the more fun-- and efficient-- the work is. Canning is definitely not a one or two person job.

I remember stories about my great Aunt Kate and Uncle Les who canned everything in their basement in Colorado, just the two of them. Every year for Christmas they'd bring my mom beautiful jars of tomatoes, peaches, pears, pickles and anything else they had that year. While I knew that my family was always delighted to empty out their contents, I never understood the amount of work that went into those jars until now.

We worked hard over those days, all the while talking --about books, about friendships, about family and kids. Mostly I listened, just soaking up the history that was in that room, happy to be cutting, peeling, stuffing or boiling tomatoes in the company of others--of all ages--who were all so happy to be there.

And orchestrating it all from her perch at the stove, running circles around us and making extra trips to the farmer's market each day for fresh tomatoes, checking each and every jar for air bubbles and making us re-do them if she found them, was Connie. She is the master of the ceremony, the Tomato Queen of Memphis.

(this is Connie here making salsa for us after the first long day of work...the lady never stops, which is why this is the only photo I managed to get of her.)

And now, looking at the fruits of our labor, I understand why she does it: almost 400 jars of tomatoes in 4 days, each one more perfect than the next, a lasting memory of time spent together in the kitchen. What better kind of tradition is there?

August = Tomatoes!

2009-08-03T10:44:00.014-05:00

August is always a mixed bag for me. This is because it brings all kinds of contradictory emotions wrapped up in one month. Maybe because I have spent the better part of my life until recently working in the academic world, and as soon as August rolls around the dread of going back to school creeps in and makes me realize that summer is almost over. On the other hand, I was always a very eager student who actually looked forward to going back to school and couldn't wait to show off her new school clothes and meet her new teachers. (I know, geek alert).

Now that the academic calendar no longer rules my life, I still have remnants of the mixed desire/dread that plagued me for so many years. It's like a learned reaction that I can't quite kick. I dread that summer is almost over and I feel like I haven't done enough canning, preserving, traveling, swimming, biking, etc. And pretty soon it will be winter. I mean, it's almost Christmas! (can you see where this is headed?) On the other hand, I love the month of August for its mixture of carefree summer days and the promise and potential of new beginnings that lie just around the corner.

Oh, and what would August be without those beautiful, shiny, irregular homegrown tomatoes? I am lucky to live in a place that not only prides itself on its tomato crop, with many different heirloom varieties in all of the farmer's markets right now, but it seems that every single person in my neighborhood has a few tomato plants in the backyard. One cute elderly woman even sells hers on a folding table in her front yard. The sign reads "homegrown tomatoes for sale." Even if there is no garden to speak of, there are a few tomato plants in everyone's backyard off in a sunny corner, promising a tasty month of homegrown goodness.

We even have our very own Tomato Festival in East Nashville -- the premiere neighborhood event of the year. It's next weekend and I can't wait!

So what do I do with my tomatoes? I posted about the soup last time, but usually I do something much simpler that involves no cooking. A simple caprese salad if I can find fresh mozzarella, because together with the tomatoes, I have basil coming out of my ears right now.

Or, I boil some water, throw in some thin spaghetti and toss the hot pasta with roughly chopped fresh tomatoes, basil, two cloves of minced garlic, some capers and a few black olives if I have them, a splash of balsamic vinegar and the best olive oil I can find. It's my man's favorite use of tomatoes. I have to agree.

I can honestly say that if it weren't for Tennessee tomatoes, I would be rather blue this month. There is something missing in my life and that may be the student/teacher in me speaking. But, if I can't go back to school, I can at least get into the fun that August always brings and be grateful for the celebration of a perfect fruit.

So...tell us. What do you do with your tomatoes?

Roasted tomato and garlic soup

2009-07-27T17:02:00.006-05:00

I had a dinner party this weekend and I wanted to keep things simple. I also wanted to feature some of the beautiful vegetables I have right now-- from my own garden, from our farmer's CSA and to round things out, from our local farmer's market. My farm share comes on Monday and I hit the market on Saturday. These tomatoes were from my garden, left on the counter to ripen in this cool bamboo screened basket a friend gave me...

This year I have Brandywines, Cherokee Purples and an heirloom called Mortgage Lifter in my garden, all shown here in their various shades of purple, red and green.

I wasn't sure if I should cook these, they were so beautiful, so I bought a few more local tomatoes at the farmer's market in case I decided to keep my heirlooms for eating raw. It's hard to beat the taste of a homegrown tomato sprinkled with salt and a drizzle of olive oil. In addition to the soup, I also served little cheese puffs (gougéres), Sicilian zucchini "alla povera"- with chili pepper and mint- and a light summer pasta with cherry tomatoes, yellow squash, hot peppers, celery and tomato purée.

zucchini 'alla povera'

In thinking about tomatoes and how to best feature them, I thought about ways to cook them that would enhance their raw flavor, and what better way to do that than to roast them, which makes them intensely sweet and tangy. This soup had a depth of flavor like no other tomato soup I've ever tasted. It didn't taste acidic at all, like the kind I think of in winter accompanied by grilled cheese sandwiches. I have never made my own tomato soup, but sometimes buy a can of Annie's all natural soups when I want a quick weeknight winter meal.

But this is a tomato soup for summer using the juiciest tomatoes when they're in their prime. It has a delicately nuanced flavor that makes it work in hot weather. And, even though it has a bit of heavy cream swirled in at the end, it's actually quite light. I took my inspiration from the August Gourmet recipe for "Roasted tomato soup with parmesan wafers" and even though I have no evidence of the wafers in the photo, I did make them and they were unbelievably good--and easy!

Roasted garlic and tomato soup

4 lb tomatoes, halved
6 garlic cloves, left unpeeled
3 T olive oil
1 medium onion, finely chopped
1/2 t dried oregano
2 t sugar
2 T unsalted butter
3 cups chicken stock
1/2 cup heavy cream

Arrange tomatoes on baking sheet cut side up, then drizzle with some olive oil, salt and pepper them, and place the garlic cloves on the sheet around them. Roast in 350 degree oven for one hour. Let cool.

In a pot on stove, cook onion, oregano and sugar in butter over med heat until softened, about 5 min. Peel garlic and add along with tomatoes, stock and simmer, covered, 20 min. Puree soup with immersion blender or in batches in blender, stir in cream and salt and pepper to taste, heating for 2 min. Can be made ahead and reaheated before serving. Serve with parmesan wafers* floating in each bowl.

Parmesan wafers

1.5 cups parmesan or pecorino cheese, roughly grated
1 T flour

Mix cheese and flour in bowl, then scoop by spoonfuls onto baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Spread each round into a flat circle, trying not to leave any holes. Bake in 350 degree oven for about 10 min. Let cool completely before delicately scraping off with spatula.

farmer's salad

2009-07-19T14:43:00.009-05:00

This is a salad I will crave forever and ever. It was so delicious and fresh and very aptly named because every ingredient (almost) came from our farmer's basket.

I cannot begin to explain the crunch and the freshness in every bite or the clean taste of each part which made up the delectable whole. Thankfully, I just upgraded my camera so that at least the photo is helpful in getting it across. While I didn't get a fancy new expensive 'profesh' kind of new camera (not the time for that kind of spending), it was a major upgrade, having gone from 4 megapixels to 10! And I think it shows.

I got the inspiration for this salad from something I saw in August issue of bon appétit. It was a chicken, green bean, corn and farro salad with goat cheese. I didn't have any goat cheese or farro (unfortunately, my supply from Italy had run out) so I substituted pearl barley and left out the cheese completely. It was not necessary at all and kept the salad crisp and healthy.

I had beautiful green onions and dark green celery from the farmers as well as gorgeous romano beans. The corn is not being harvested just yet at Long Hungry Creek Farm, so I found some local corn at the market from Delvin Farms. It was super sweet and creamy, the perfect accompaniment to all the greens. The barley added that extra depth of nutty flavor to the veggies and the chicken lifted it from a side to a main dish. It's important to only make this salad if you can use fresh, organic produce. It's summer, after all!

Farmer's salad

1/2 cup pearl barley, spelt berries or farro
8 oz. skinless, boneless chicken breast
12 oz. green beans, cut into small pieces
2 cups fresh yellow corn
3/4 cup green onions
1/2 cup chopped celery
fresh herbs: marjoram, thyme, basil

for dressing:
2 T red wine vinegar
2 T minced shallots (or red onion)
1 T Dijon mustard
1/2 t coarse salt
fresh ground pepper

All of the elements are cooked separately - Sautée the chicken in some olive oil in a skillet while boiling the corn, then blanche the green beans to al dente and cook the barley or farro in a pot of boiling, salted water. Drain and let everything cool to room temperature before mixing with the green onion, celery, fresh herbs and the dressing. Toss to coat evenly and serve with a crisp white wine like Viognier or Grüner Veltliner.

This will definitely be a my new farmer-fresh summer salad for parties, potlucks or just a weeknight dinner in one dish. Enjoy! And, remember to thank your farmers!

Slow Bake Sale

2009-07-14T15:18:00.010-05:00

Our "Great American Bake Sale" sponsored by Slow Food Nashville and held last Saturday at the Nashville Farmer's Market was a sweet success! We raised almost $900 for Share Our Strength's campaign to fight childhood hunger.

Thanks to all of our local bakers and pastry chefs for contributing their delicious baked treats to our sale. So many beautiful items graced our checkered tablecloth, arriving throughout the day at the market for folks to drool over. And drool they did. But they also threw down and spent money, some even donating money on top of their purchase, giving me hope that people do care. And they also love sweets.

Who wouldn't love baked goods made by professionals using mostly local ingredients? Who wouldn't love these...

peach-almond tarts made by Tom Huber for Marmellata

fresh fruit tarts made by Bacon and Caviar Catering

peach danishes made by Provence

peach cupcakes with blackberries made by Martha Stamps

'chocolate sin cake' made by Zola, pecan tarts by Bacon and Caviar and buttercream cupcake by Sweet Honey

And so much more... coffee cake from F. Scott's, a local harvest cake and vegan beet muffins from Fido, beautiful little linzer cookies and chocolate-ginger cookies by Rebekah Turshen of the Union Station Hotel, cheesecakes by Nashville Cheescake, brioche from Patterson House, and 'crostata di marmellata' and peach-blackberry cobbler made by yours truly.

Thanks again to all who baked, helped and ate. I'm proud of our Slow Food Chapter, our local chefs and our community.

easy summer cooking

2009-07-08T10:53:00.010-05:00

It's July and around here that means the summer produce is just starting to kick into high gear. This year, in addition to our weekly farm share with The Barefoot Farmer, we also have our own little veggie garden that is starting to show lots of promise. We've picked our first cucumbers-- all 3 of them over 16 inches long!

...and a beautiful green bell pepper, and the tomatoes that I've been able to save from the birds are just starting to ripen in all of their pink, luscious glory. We've eaten one so far and while my organic heirloom tomato plants bought from Eaton's Creek are producing fewer tomatoes than probably most conventional plants you can buy at Home Depot, each one is worth its weight in gold.

So fixing something for dinner in the summer months becomes a sort of game that most days I enjoy playing. What can I do with all of this produce so fresh it needs to be enjoyed NOW, like the lettuce we get from the farmer, or the gigantic basil leaves that are taking over the garden.

The cucumbers got eaten sliced thinly and sprinkled with salt on a piece of toast spread with goat cheese. I could think of no better way to enjoy the freshly picked monster cukes. I shared some with neighbors to show off my gardening skills. But for the most part, my garden is not about huge quantities, but the quality is outstanding. And my herbs are doing amazingly well. The one thing I always include in every meal in the summer are fresh herbs from the garden: rosemary, thyme, basil, oregano, chives and Italian parsley.

I made pizza dough one night and we ate margherita pizzas hot out of the oven with fresh mozzarella, my quick tomato sauce and basil from the garden.

And one night I made a lasagne with what I had on hand: local shitake mushrooms from Delvin Farms, my basil again, and summer squash and leeks from the farmers. It was a light summer version of my usual lasagne bolognese. It also made a great lunch cold the next day.

And, then there was this version of a ratatouille--100% local, even the garlic--with everything I had gotten from the farm share that week thrown in: onions, garlic, baby carrots, dark green celery, summer squash, fresh thyme, basil and a couple of tomatoes thrown in at the end. Eaten as is, or scooped onto a piece of crusty Tuscan bread and drizzled with olive oil, it was like summer in one pot.

And it's so simple. Just coarsely chop everything and lightly sautée each veggie on its own, aromatics first, then the squash or zucchini, cook with the lid on for only about 15 min. as veggies this fresh don't need much cooking time, then throw in the chopped tomatoes, cook 5 min. more, and finally, the herbs and give it one stir. It's one of the best ways I know to enjoy the bounty of summer in the simplest preparation possible. Easy summer cooking doesn't get any better than this!

Crostata di marmellata

2009-06-20T09:13:00.007-05:00

There is something so simple about Italian desserts. If I come across a new "Italian" dessert cookbook and the recipes call for multi-stage cake baking or lots of hard-to-find ingredients I know it's not really Italian. Because in my experience, the Italians are fans of homemade, rustic desserts. The ones your nonna used to make. And those are the same ones that Italians repeat over and over at home, as well as the ones you will find in a good Italian pasticceria.

Now, don't get me wrong. There are regions in Italy where pastry is a tradition involving skill, artistry and technique, rivaling that of the French pastry tradition. These are mostly in the South - cities like Naples, Palermo and Siracusa in Sicily.

like this beautiful Sicilian cassata (image from www.on_sicily.com)

But in the rest of Italy, pastry is not an elevated tradition, but more a tradition of simplicity and seasonality.

crostata di marmellata and torta della nonna in a pastry shop window

pan di spagna (chocolate cream cake) made by Carla, my Tuscan friend/cook

That is why this 'torta di marmellata' speaks volumes to me about Italian desserts. It's not overly sweet, nor is it ostentations or decorative. If this were art history, it would be Medieval rather than Baroque. It says "anyone can make this," or "just use whatever fruit is growing in your backyard," or "give me an espresso and a piece of crostata and I will give you perfection.

getting a little fancier but still rustic crostate

So I first learned of the crostata (Italy's version of pie you could say) while hosting my good friend Betty Bottoni (yes, that's Betty Buttons) on her first visit to the U.S. to see me. We met in 1997 in Urbino where she was studying journalism and I was passing through after helping direct a study abroad program in Perugia. We became fast friends and she invited me and a few other straggling foreigners to her apartment for dinner that night where her mother, visiting from her town in Lazio near Rome, cooked what was probably a fabulous meal in the tiniest kitchen imaginable. Betty's mom is a wonderful Italian home cook. I have learned a lot from her over the years.

In fact, I am sure that Betty's crostata probably hails from her mother's kitchen, one in which there is always a jar or two of homemade jam left from the previous summer. (Right now I have a jar of grape-strawberry in the fridge and my favorite, fichi-cacao (chocolate fig) in my cupboard from the last visit to Rome. Betty's mother always sends me home with marmellata and various other jars of homemade goodies.

You get the idea. The real Italian sweets, the kind your mom makes, are made with whatever you have on hand, which is why so many of them involve seasonal fruit. And always, a short crust, or 'pasta frolla'- heavy on the butter, light on the sugar.

There are as many recipes for the pastry as there are for pie crust, varying only slightly, so go with what works in your kitchen. But here is one I return to again and again, given to me by Betty so many years ago. It's still written in Italian so forgive the estimations on equivalents. Like I said, it's not so much about precision as it is presentation. Take this to a party and people will think you're an expert baker.

La crostata di Betty

pastry:

1 1/2 sticks (12 T) chilled unsalted butter
1/4 c sugar
1 egg and 1 yolk
2 cups a.p. flour
pinch of salt
2 T cold water

filling:
1 1/2 cups jam (or fresh fruit if available)
1 t finely grated lemon peel
1/2 t almond extract
powdered sugar for sprinkling on top (optional)

Mix as you would pie crust, divide in half, wrap in plastic and chill at least one hour, up to one day. Roll dough out on floured surface, transfer to 9-in tart pan, or whatever you have, and press into sides. Stir jam or (cooked fruit), lemon and almond extract in bowl to blend. Spoon filling into crust in pan. Roll out remaining dough and cut into strips. Arrange them on top any way you like. Seal strips to crust and trim edges. Bake tart at 350 until golden, about 50 min. Can be made a day ahead. Cover and serve at room temp.

Paella Party

2009-06-11T11:14:00.016-05:00

It is not every day that I get to throw a backyard party for my man's birthday (a milestone one this year, but I'm not saying how old --or young!) I thought the occasion merited an all-out grand celebration in the tradition of the Spanish who, in my opinion, are some first-rate party people.

My man also loves paella. He loves anything that combines shellfish, chicken and pork. And this was no ordinary paella. I took my inspiration from the parties I'd seen on the beach in Spain where men cooked paella in pans 5-feet wide on an open fire and served it up right on the beach. I decided I would make the most authentic paella that has probably ever been seen in Nashville, or at least in my backyard.

We have one of those old BBQ pits made of bricks, now crumbling with the weight of time and neglect. Who knows how long it's been there. You don't see them too often anymore. When we moved in, we cleaned out all the vegetation that had grown around it, cleared out the snakes and slugs from inside, and I vowed one day to turn it into a pizza oven. But this seemed like the perfect reason to fire it up and see what it could do.

Originally from Valencia, though now cooked all over Spain, paella is traditionally cooked on an open fire in a wide, shallow pan that is the namesake of the dish ('paella' means skillet in Spanish). That time I saw it being made on the beach in Andalucia was almost 15 years ago. I got a recipe then, bought a paella pan, and made my boyfriend at the time cart it all over Spain with us, tied to his backpack. It made it all the way home and through several moves, but alas, I had to give it up a few years ago when rust and lack of use made it impossible to clean.

Enter the age of Internet shopping. Three days before the party I had a 22-inch traditional paella pan on my doorstep. So big it could only be used on a fire outdoors, it promised a night of exciting food preparation and just a little bit of intimidation, since I'd only ever cooked paella inside on the stove. But I'm always up for a culinary challenge.

We filled the bathtub (the one waiting in our backyard to go into our newly renovated bathroom) with ice and beer, a great use for a bathtub. I also made a huge jar of sangria with my dad's secret recipe from his restaurant days when he tried to bring tapas to Las Vegas about 20 years too soon. For apps I made little chile corn custard cakes topped with sour cream and salsa (they went too fast for a photo), and a refreshing gazpacho served in little painted espresso cups (again, this is an after photo. It really is hard to take pictures and host at the same time, but thanks to Robin for getting the job done!)

Then the show began. Lucky for me, a good friend was invited who also happens to be a great cook and a take-charge kind of guy. He and some other guys got the fire started with wood and then built it to a roaring flame. With everything in place, including 2 lbs of arborio rice, 12 cups of chicken stock I had made the day before, 24 pieces of chicken I had baked earlier in the day, and the seafood: 2 lbs each of prawns from the Gulf, newly arrived little neck clams and mussels, plus 2 lbs of hot Italian sausage, sliced red peppers, onions and garlic, and the essential saffron threads, we were ready to start cooking.

(Note: when undertaking something like making paella for 25 people, the key is early preparation. Had I not done all of the prep earlier that day and the day before, there is no way I would have been able to pull it off.)

First, we browned the sausage in the hot pan with olive oil, then added the peppers to soften, before removing them both to a plate and adding the aromatics, onion and garlic.

Then a few chopped tomatoes were added, before the rice went in dry at first to lightly toast it. Then the broth that had been boiling on the stove inside was brought out and added little by little to the rice along with the saffron and seasonings, and allowed to simmer at a slow boil. It took a little while and some major heat to cook that much rice but it's essential to let it cook and not stir it much. Rotating the pan from time to time makes it cook evenly.

When it was almost done, that's when everything started to happen: we threw in the shrimp, then the clams and mussels, the chicken and sausage spread out on top, and the peppers sprinkled throughout. It really was beautiful and exciting to make.

People lined up at the paella with plates in hand and I dished it up with lemons on the side and french bread to soak it up. It had just the right combination of flavors and the saffron was not too strong. The fire definitely gave it a smoky flavor that you just don't get doing it on the stove.

Everyone raved about it and went back for seconds and thirds. It really was an authentic paella. I think he was happy.

Of course, there was a homemade birthday cake to top it off. A carrot cake with orange-flecked cream cheese frosting that could feed an army- and did! It was just the thing to end a perfect backyard paella party.

I'm back!

2009-05-26T15:11:00.016-05:00

I just couldn't keep these babies to myself. Beautiful strawberries from Delvin Farms purchased at the Farmer's Market a few weeks ago. They were just gorgeous and the first of the season.

Hi everybody! I know I've been gone for a while and it seems like forever since I wrote but the hiatus was good for me. And now I'm ready to roll again with the blog... and share what I've been up to, food and otherwise. I'd love to hear from anyone out there who may still be reading. (And come back often because I have something big in the works that I hope to announce soon. Sorry for the teaser; I couldn't resist).

So the strawberries were used in the mini strawberry shortcakes I made for the 2nd annual Slow Food Hot Dog day at I Dream of Weenie a few weeks ago. We had a great turnout again this year despite the rainy weather and lots of wonderful add-ons made by local chefs using local products. I think the condiments even outshone the dogs this year.

And the dessert, well, who wouldn't love a mini shortcake biscuit with fresh local strawberries and whipped cream? They went so fast I didn't have a chance to snap a shot of a finished one.

.................
In April I took a lovely trip to see my friends in Boulder. Good friends + good food + bad weather = lots of eating and drinking! It was a great trip. First stop, a new stylish little noodle bar in Denver called Bones where my friend Kiki and I indulged ourselves with escargot dumplings and noodles washed down with local beer and soft-serve ice cream for dessert (made with *real* ingredients, not the powdered stuff!) A great way to start our food-centric weekend.

Then, in Boulder, it was girls' night out beginning at Frasca where, five years after opening around the corner from my apartment, my friends are accomplishing amazing things at their little neighborhood restaurant.

Here are some pics of a beautiful lunch at one of my favorite hangouts, The Kitchen, after a day of shopping on Pearl Street.

flatbread with gioia burrata and La Quercia prosciutto

two lovely salads...

And, the main event, our home-cooked dinner at Kiki's house the last night, where all of us got in the kitchen and pulled out all the stops. Kiki opened a special bottle of Slovenian bubbly she'd been saving that required a very complicated opening procedure involving strange tools, a water bath and an upside down uncorking.

The menu included Suzanne Goin's herb-roasted pork loin with haricots verts and spring onions, bruschetta with garlic and swiss chard, a warm spinach salad with shrimp and cannellini beans, roasted beets, and a mixed berry cobbler. Whoa. We cooked, we ate, we conquered. And then we cleaned up her tiny little kitchen. But not until the next day.

there is a pork loin under there, before going into the oven.

beautiful spring onions

the bruschetta

the salad

And, this month, my dad came to visit and I made all kinds of yummy things that didn't get documented like a slow-cooked pork loin with green beans and roasted potatoes, a local beef shoulder from Walnut Hill Farms braised with wine and veggies that we made the best tacos with, and my dad's favorite- a mixed berry tiramisu with lime curd that was incredible. This is just the prep; the main event was devoured by all.

And, lastly, we've been remodeling. First the pink bathroom, then a new closet for me, then... the kitchen. Help. I will die, surely, when that happens. But until then, I have also been gardening like a madwoman. And the results are so rewarding. Looking good so far. I can't wait to pick my first radishes, cucumbers, carrots, tomatoes and peppers.

We've had lots of rain here in Tennessee and everything is green and lush. I am excited to go into Summer with so much on the horizon. I will be highlighting it all for you here. Just don't expect a comeback album. I'll leave that to Green Day.

changes underway

2009-03-24T15:56:00.008-05:00

I am going to possibly pull a Ryan Adams and call this my last blog post about food ever... only to come back to food blogging a month later. Not really. But I am announcing that my heart is no longer in it in this way. It's not that I am not still inspired everyday about food and cooking and ingredients and traveling and Italy. Not at all, and I still do most of those things.

It's just that the format of the food blog no longer inspires me and I believe I have much more to give in terms of verbally expressing myself. I have interests and opinions that go beyond the parameters and limitations (and dare I say, solipsism?) of writing about and photographing the food I make. It's time I start to explore those other venues. I hope it will produce a much more meaningful outpouring of ideas, one that I enjoy writing as much as someone may enjoy reading. There are plenty of other food bloggers out there to tow the line, some of them actually good.

But for now, the changes are coming and I hope they will be posted soon. So please do check back and thanks for reading this amateur experiment I've entertained for the last year and some change.

This chick is out searching for more passion and is looking forward to seeing what will hatch. Happy Spring!

spaghetti al limone

2009-03-12T15:14:00.005-05:00

This is a recipe from the Amalfi coast that my friend Peggy brought back from her yearly culinary odyssey which takes place in June.

The Amalfi coast is renowned for its lemons and they produce many wonderful things there with the citrus fruit, including Italy's best limoncello (nothing other than vodka steeped in lemon rinds and sugar, but the highest quality Amalfitani lemons must be used).

I like this recipe for spaghetti al limone because it feels right for the season. To be sure, lemons are in season here in winter, but mainly because we are getting them from far away, warmer locales such as Florida and California. But they are available year-round like much produce, only they aren't as beautiful and fragrant as when you buy them in winter. So I've been making a lot of recipes using lemons lately, and this one seems like a perfect dish for now as we transition from Winter to Spring and the weather is 80 degrees one day, snowing the next! It's light and easy and not too heavy on the sauce and reminds me of a simple summer meal on a boat in Capri (I wish).

In fact, there is no sauce, just as there is no boat. But I can dream. Just the juice of one perfect lemon, the best you can find whether it's a Meyer lemon or just an organic one. You don't want to use a conventional lemon for this recipe as the zest is a big part of it and they tend to be laden with pesticides if not organically grown.

Spaghetti al limone

1/4 cup of extra virgin olive oil
1/2 cup of fresh Italian parsley
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 cup of fresh lemon juice
pinch of coarse sea salt
1 cup of pasta cooking water
1 lb spaghetti
1/2 cup parmigiano (optional)

Bring a large pot of water to the boil, add salt and cook pasta al dente. While pasta is cooking, simmer on low heat 1/4 cup of olive oil, garlic, and half the parsley, for three minutes.

Add half the lemon juice and the drained pasta to the sauce immediately, toss. Add a bit of the reserved pasta water if needed to elongate the sauce and keep the pasta fluid. Add the rest of the lemon juice and the zest of one lemon. Toss again gently in the sauce pan and add some parmigiano cheese if desired. Serve immediately.

Brighten with last bit of parsley and a drizzle of good extra virgin olive oil.

The best bolognese

2009-03-05T10:11:00.015-06:00

I have always loved a good bolognese sauce, ever since I first tried it in a little trattoria in Ferrara.

I was studying in Florence that year and I had taken a train northeast to Bologna and stopped along the way in this beautiful town in the Emilia-Romagna region to see the Castello Estense, a famous brick castle in the center of town surrounded by a moat.

The 14th-century castle is certainly impressive, but what I remember being most impressed by were the well-dressed Ferraresi of all ages choosing bicycles over cars... and their famous Bolognese meat sauce.

(foto courtesy bikeabout.org)

The residents of Ferrara, as I learned, are as enthusiastic about biking as they are about homemade pasta. Located in the heart of Emilia-Romagna, the region made famous by parmigiano, prosciutto and salumi, the city's inhabitants are known all over Italy as the experts in stuffed pastas (ravioli, tortelli di zucca, tortellini) and the all-important ragù, indispensable for lasagne.

If you've never learned to make a real Italian ragù, now is your chance. I never thought much about it, I admit, for many years traveling and eating throughout Italy. It is not as prevalent in the places where I've spent a lot of time, like Rome and Tuscany. But in Central Italy and the cities of Bologna, Parma, Ravenna and Ferrara, it is essential to the local cuisine. And to know how to make a good, versatile ragù is to know how to do just about anything.

Called "bolognese" after the city of its origin, whenever a menu lists pasta alla bolognese, that means it is served with ragù. This is the meat sauce that is preferred in the region for homemade pasta. As Marcella Hazan notes: "a properly made ragù clinging to the folds of homemade noodles is one of the most satisfying experiences accessible to the sense of taste."

I happen to agree. And, as Marcella says, the key to a good ragù is in the long, slow simmering of the sauce. The minimum is 3 hours, she says, but 5 is better. Now, before you run away thinking this is something you will never do, remember that the sauce just needs to be left alone to cook at the merest simmer for all that time. Once it's on the stove you are free to do a million other things. I even ran to the airport and picked up friends while mine simmered on the stove the other day, in preparation for my lasagne bolognese. I don't recommend leaving your stove unattended, but I had no choice. My friends were early and I was not going to mess with my ragù.

Here is the recipe I learned while in Italy from Carla, the cook at Fattoria degli Usignoli. The only difference between hers and others I've seen (Marcella's of course, and Tyler Florence actually makes a good one, if a bit heavy on ingredients) is in the addition of milk or not. Marcella maintains that the meat, after just barely losing color, but not browned, must be cooked in 1/2 cup of milk before the tomatoes are added. This, she says, keeps the meat creamier and sweeter tasting. But I made it without and it was pretty sweet and creamy anyway. You should also use at least two types of meat, one of which, like pork, has a high fat content.

For one large lasagna or enough sauce for pasta for 6 people:

1 large red or yellow onion
1 large carrot
1 large celery stalk
3 T olive oil
3 T butter
1 T diced pancetta
3/4 lb ground beef, preferably sirloin
3/4 lb ground pork
1 cup dry red wine
1/2 cup milk (optional)
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1 15-oz can whole-peeled tomatoes

Tips: Make this in a large cast-iron enamel or earthenware pot. And, this is one thing that I like to use the food processor for --to chop very, very finely the carrots, onion and celery --so that they make almost a puréed 'sofritto' to start with.

After chopping the veggies, heat oil and butter in pot and add the pureed veggies and cook for at least 10 minutes until they begin to soften and give off moisture. Then add the pancetta, let brown, then the ground meats, crumbling in the pot with a fork and cook only until the meat has lost its raw color. Add the wine and turn the heat up to medium high, and cook, stirring occasionally, until all the wine has evaporated. (Add the milk and nutmeg at this point and cook until the milk has evaporated). Stir frequently. Add the tomatoes and when it starts to bubble, turn down the heat and let the sauce cook at the lowest simmer, uncovered, for about 3-4 hours. Taste and correct for salt.

Ragù can be made ahead of time, but do all the cooking in one day. It can be kept in the refrigerator for up to 5 days, or frozen, and reheated.

cooking class

2009-02-23T11:55:00.010-06:00

I had a really fun time cooking with my new friends, Ross and Jimmy, in their beautiful kitchen. It was a cooking class (with me) for a few of their friends --a gift for Jimmy's birthday.

Having grown up in Florida, Jimmy loves seafood and wanted to make that the basis of the dinner. Having grown up in Colorado, I am not a seasoned seafood cook, but I have spent a lot of time in Italy where seafood is plentiful. I find that the best recipes, which happen to be mostly Italian in my world, are the ones that are the simplest to prepare and highlight the quality of the minimal ingredients.

With this is mind, I chose to do a first course of spaghetti 'allo scoglio'. A seafood pasta eaten all over Southern Italy, it is named after the rocks that jut out from the sea, containing lots of tasty creatures clinging to their surface--clams, mussels, shrimp and squid... I could not get mussels that day, so I settled for shrimp, littleneck clams and bay scallops.

The sauce is a simple red sauce. Start with onions and garlic and sautée in olive oil, then add 1/2 cup white wine and let it reduce a few minutes. Then add tomatoes -- fresh or canned - or a combination of both, plus 1/2 cup of clam broth (I purchase this and it comes in a bottle found in most grocery stores). Let the sauce cook for a bit over moderate heat.

A key ingredient in this sauce which I think is key for any seafood pasta is the heat that a hot oil brings, either added directly into the sauce, or afterwards when serving --or both, which is what we did. To make it, simply mix 1/2 cup of olive oil with 1/4 cup of chopped parsley, 2 teaspoons of crushed red pepper and 2 tsp of sea salt.

For our second course, I had picked up some beautiful swordfish steaks at the market and knew that would be a treat. We made a lemon-oregano-olive oil marinade for the fish that gave it just the delicate flavors it needed. This light, lemony sauce for fish comes from Sicily where lemons are a prized fruit and sometimes reach the size of small footballs. They are gorgeous! But lemons in our market now, while not the Sicilian variety, are still big and fragrant. It's the perfect time to use them.

We let the fish sit in the marinade for an hour before broiling it alongside some simple yellow potatoes, roasted in olive oil, sea salt and rosemary. That's it! As you can see, these classes are not about learning fancy techniques or secrets --just simple, everyday dishes that most people can prepare using high-quality, seasonal ingredients.

For dessert: a cake. Again, a simple cake, but one that tastes and sounds like it took a lot more work: Almond cake with pears and creme anglaise, from a F&W recipe I found around the holidays. It's like a spongecake, light and airy, only made with almond flour which gives it something special. Substitute pears for anything at other times of the year--raspberries, apricots, apples or lemon custard--and it's your go-to cake!
(see a picture here)

What a fun night! I loved this class--good people, good food and great conversation. Being in the kitchen together with friends is what it's all about. Thanks to all of my new friends: Ross, Jimmy, Katie, Susan and Beverly. I hope to see you in the kitchen again soon!

ps: A thank you to Jimmy for the photos!

Venison Part II: tenderloin with porcini mushroom risotto

2009-02-17T13:48:00.005-06:00

I wanted to post the second part of my venison adventure so that you would see that it wasn't just a blip on the radar. I have talked to many people who say that venison tastes "gamey" or strange, or that they just were not impressed.

I, for one, did not have that experience as you saw from the first venison post, and this dish confirms that. One more for the buck. Or for us, as the case may be.

I decided with the tenderloin to make the most of its deep, natural flavors and serve it with a risotto that was just as rich. This complementary richness of flavor would be the crowning glory of my dish.

I love the way the meat looks raw and crimson-colored, but before you accuse me of being "blood-thirsty" and "gross," just let me say that there is nothing wrong with liking the look of good, ultra-fresh animal meat. On the contrary, it is a stance that many people can relate to when it comes to the fresh, glistening look of sushi-grade fish. That's a dead animal too, lest we forget.

But the meat here tastes as great as it looks and the appearance of meat in its raw form is just as important as the cooked form. If it doesn't look good, don't buy it --rule number one for me. And, if you have a healthy respect for the food you prepare, you should be able to admire its natural beauty. So, I have a clean conscience. It's clean also because I know that this deer was killed by someone I know and it was given to us as a gesture of sharing. That sharing between the animal and its predator and between the hunter and us is what the natural world is all about. I surprise even myself here.

Anyway, I had some risotto as well as some dried porcini mushrooms in the cupboard so I soaked the mushrooms in about 1/3 cup of warm water while the meat was marinated with olive oil, salt, pepper and fresh thyme from my still productive herb garden. This soaking/marinading lasted about 30 minutes. (* Don't throw out the mushroom water! it will come in handy for the sauce).

The combination of fresh thyme, mushrooms and a sauce based on dijon mustard was just the thing to bring out the flavor of the venison. It was pretty easy to do as well.

I made the risotto as usual, with white wine and broth, parmesan cheese and butter, stirring for about 20 minutes. When it was ready, I quickly seared the meat in olive oil (some of the pieces were cut too small but the larger ones were cooked perfectly. As I said before, cooking venison is tricky and it can be ruined easily! Lesson learned: cut pieces that are uniform in size and not too small that they'll cook too fast).

I quickly deglazed the crispy meat bits left in the skillet with white wine and a mixture of the mushroom water and about 2 tsp. of good dijon mustard. I let that liquid cook down for a minute until it was thick and poured it over the meat which rested on top of the risotto.

We enjoyed this delicious venison dish with a gorgeous Cotes du Rhone Domain Catherine le Goeuil hand-selected for us by our friend Will at Woodland Wine Merchant. It was a little bit of a splurge for a weeknight, but the venison merited such a treat. And what a marriage made in Heaven it was.

Thank you again, my deer. We loved you.

Venison alla pizzaiola

2009-02-10T11:32:00.010-06:00

I had my first experience cooking freshly killed meat and it was surprisingly satisfying. A co-worker of the b.f.'s is an avid hunter and fisherman and he recently gave us a cooler full of fresh meat and fish. This is one good thing about living in Tennessee. I know I like to mutter bad things under my breath every time I see those big guys dressed head-to-toe in camo with their bright orange accessories, especially when they wear it to the grocery store or to a football game (I kid you not). I have learned by now that it's just part of living in the South. Like living in Colorado and seeing people in spandex bike shorts eating at the table next to you. It's just a different type of "outdoor look." I prefer the spandex myself.

But I was not going to turn down a cooler full of venison and catfish just because of some little scruple I have about killing animals for sport. Yes, I am against it personally, but I know there are a lot of people out there doing it and if they're going to do it anyway, we might as well pay tribute to the slain animals by preparing and eating them with respect. Plus, I had never tasted fresh venison and was eager to try it.

It was in this frame of mind that I did some research on cooking venison. I had read that it was very easy to ruin it. Since there is very little fat, it is easy to over-cook it, turning it into something tough and chewy. I chose the small steaks for my maiden voyage into freshly killed deer preparation. By the way, this animal came from near Carthage, Tenn., not far from Nashville, and it happens to be where Al Gore's people come from. This deer was killed only about a week prior to arriving on my doorstep, frozen for just a short time.

When it thawed out, the first thing I noticed was the color, much like these cuts reproduced here:

It was a deep crimson and there was a lot of blood that seeped out even while it was cooking. All I could think of was how fresh and natural it looked --nothing like the blandly colored meat from the grocery store or even the organic kind that sometimes seems dry. It was oozing freshness and I couldn't wait to taste it. I discovered a little bit of blood-lust I never knew I had!

As this was a tender cut of meat from the loin or leg, I decided that high heat for a short time was the best way to go. They were very thinly cut, so no pounding was necessary. I didn't want to douse it in sauce, but I needed some accompanying flavors, so I did a quick preparation of "carne alla pizzaiola" which is really just diced tomatoes, garlic, oregano and I added some capers.

I heated the oil in a skillet, addeed some whole garlic cloves to flavor the oil, removed them and when the oil was very hot, I quickly browned the meat for 2 to 3 minutes per side.

I seasoned the steaks with salt and pepper, removed them to a platter and kept them warm while I prepared the sauce: add and simmer briskly one can of chopped tomatoes, 1 to 2 T fresh oregano leaves (or dried is fine too), a pinch of red pepper flakes. Stir in 2 T capers, 1/2 cup of white wine, season with salt and pepper to taste. Serve immediately over the steaks. The taste of venison was even better than I imagined. It was pure, natural meat that tasted the way meat is supposed to taste. That's the only way to describe it. Thank you, deer.

I served it with a side dish of quick pan-roasted brussels sprouts, which we love with just about anything.

I don't know how many times I'll get the chance to prepare fresh venison like this again (I have a tenderloin in the freezer still and a half-strap, whatever that means). But I could get used to this. Too bad my man will never pick up a gun, which is just fine with me. Thou shalt not kill. But if you bring to my doorstep, I will cook it. And it will be GOOD.

Winter blues no more

2009-02-03T16:43:00.008-06:00

Now here's something that makes me happy. It's a chocolate-raspberry ganache cake that I made recently for my boyfriend's mom's birthday. Composed of two layers of moist chocolate cake (the secret ingredient being sour cream), with a layer of raspberry jam and ganache in the middle, smeared with more ganache and dotted with fresh raspberries, it was a heart-warming thing to make. I'm not talking about how it made me or anyone feel when eating it (that was good too). No, I'm talking about what it does for me to bake a cake.

Nourishing the soul and calming the nerves. These are the direct results of baking for me. Or cooking. Or anything that involves me in my kitchen alone or with my best guy and our sweet dog who likes to assist from her perch on the floor in front of the sink.

In this, the middle of winter (6 weeks to go until Spring!), when we've had very cold weather for weeks and weeks, and the days are short and often dark, it's baking and cooking that lift my spirits, not to mention filling our bellies.

Take this weeknight mac n' cheese, for example. It took nothing to prepare. Just cook some macaroni. Toast some bread crumbs. Melt some butter, cheese and milk. Add a little nutmeg and salt and pepper and combine with pasta. Throw in some wilted kale for green, fill a baking dish with this goodness, sprinkle the top with the toasted bread crumbs, more cheese and bake for about 20 minutes. Oh, it's yummy and warm and sure, it'll cost you some calories. But whatever. It's the middle of winter, like I said.

Here's something else that warms my soul: a simple roasted chicken over roasted root veggies for an easy and delightful mid-winter meal.

And, for something to pick me up in the afternoon when all I want is to curl up with a good book next to the fire but work keeps me at my desk: a shot of espresso with a homemade biscotti.

It's all good. It's winter. And it'll soon be Spring. So stop complaining and get in the kitchen (I tell myself) and don't forget to breathe.

PS: Happy one-year anniversary to me and to the Joy of Cooking!
Two things I'm thankful for: 1) I still have this blog name and no lawsuits and
2) this song: "the times they are a'changin" (bob dylan, covered by mason jennings on "I'm not there" soundtrack).