megan gordon's spiced sultana drop scones

I was feeling a bit sorry for myself earlier this afternoon because it appears that the wonderful, cherished, beloved nap is moving on from our household.  I know it's a bit silly to complain about it, because my little guy has spent almost four and a half years now regularly napping, which is far more than most children his age. I have had more than my fair share of peaceful afternoons spent reading (and let's face it, sleeping!).  Rather than concede defeat today, I stubbornly insisted that some amount of rest occur, and miracle of miracles, a few minutes after a rather stern and partially unreasonable lecture, he was peacefully snoring.  Silently gloating in my victory, I crept out of his room, plopped down on the couch next to our sparsely decorated but charming Christmas tree, and wondered what I could do with the soon-to-be-ending free time.  

After all my grumbling, I now have the perfect opportunity to share what might be the greatest scone recipe of all times.  I have been regularly visiting Megan Gordon's blog, A Sweet Spoonful, practically making every single thing she has posted in the last few months, and it has been one winner after another. I've added her whole wheat banana bread to my rotation, and the rye chocolate brownies she shared are easily the best brownies I've ever had.  I decided to try the scones from the latest post on a whim, partially because A loves scones so much but also because the combination of whole wheat and spices just felt so perfect for the cold mornings we have been having.  I should note that I welcome and enjoy the cold-we had what felt like an eternal, hot summer, and then skipped right through fall into a genuine California winter, the likes of which we haven't seen in several years.  I'm thrilled! 

Because the scones didn't require cutting or shaping, they were incredibly easy to throw together.  In my experience, the dough for scones isn't too finicky anyway, and you should expect and embrace the fact that it's craggy and rough-being able to see larger flecks of butter spread through your flour is a good thing! Megan suggests putting the dough into the fridge for ten minutes before dropping spoonfuls on the baking tray, but I was so pressed for time I was only able to chill it for three or four, which in no way affected them negatively.  I had only a handful of raisins, and no sultanas, so I substituted dried cranberries, as per Megan's suggestion.  I almost used the raisins instead because I was slightly worried that the combination of spices with cranberries might not be that appealing, but I needn't have worried because you guys, these scones are PURE BLISS.  The buttery crumb practically melts in your mouth-it's a lighter texture than any other scone I have made.  This is, of course, because of the combination of a stick of butter + 1/2 cup of cream, but it's utterly worth it.  Many scones use buttermilk or half and half as the binding liquid and they're still lovely, but the overall taste and feel is much heartier and heavier.  The orange zest spiked through the flours and spices is the perfect foil for the cranberries, and is likely the reason the flavor combination worked so well.  We devoured half the batch between the three of us, and I had heated up the leftovers this morning-scones don't typically hold up well at all, but after a nice amount of toasting time in the oven, they were still just as heavenly.  

As is my routine when I post recipes directly from blogs, I'll simply link here to the spiced scones.  Hoping I'll be back soon...

here's a mouthful: melon-avocado-arugula salad with crispy prosciutto and maple-balsamic vinaigrette

About six months ago, I stumbled across How Sweet It Is, another popular food blog in the seemingly endless sea of food blogs.  I think it might have been through a link on a fashion website that I halfheartedly follow, hoping that I might get the tiniest bit of inspiration for my lonely wardrobe.

I have a type, I think, when it comes to food blogs.  At the risk of sounding completely self-righteous and food-snobby, I would say that I gravitate most towards the whole food/organic/farm fresh sites.  There are usually lots of perfectly shot photos of fresh hauls from farmer's market, captured in only the light of a golden afternoon sun.  Kale and farro are ubiquitous.  Most of my favorites are also quite heavy on the writing.  Each post is a thoughtful essay rather than just a glossy recipe.  I actually spend time reading posts from years ago on Orangette or The Wednesday Chef, just for the pure pleasure of it. 

How Sweet is not like those blogs.  It's bold and brash, unapologetically about food, glorious food.  Against a background accented with candy-colored shades of pastel pink and blue, its author, Jessica Merchant, raves with great enthusiasm about her latest successful dishes, sharing up close and personal photos of plates bursting with decadence and color.  These aren't the oat scone and bulgur salads that I tend to read about most of the time.  Bourbon and chocolate are heavily featured.  A month ago there was a recipe for strawberry buttermilk sprinkle donuts. This week I can't tear myself away from the post about havarti and arugula grilled cheese with herbed butter and SMOKY BACON JAM.  

I didn't want to admit how much I liked this new blog and Jessica's whimsical musings about cocktails and television shows.  I felt much more virtuous (and more like myself, to be honest) when I whipped up a batch of Megan Gordon's coconut cookies or returned to my tried-and-true Molly Wizenberg scone recipe.  After reading the description of the first cookbook spawned from How Sweet, cutely titled Seriously Delish, for probably the 100th time, I finally ordered it.  And I have to say, it has been the BEST thing to arrive in my kitchen for a really long time.  Every. Single. Recipe. has been utterly wonderful.  

It's true, a a few cursory glances at the blog might lead you to believe that its recipes are on the more decadent side, but Jessica's food is remarkably whole, to use a trendy food adjective.  She uses a ton of whole grains, relies heavily on coconut oil, and adores kale and bacon in equal measure.  I've truly enjoyed making food from her book, and can't wait to write more about it.  Heavenly strawberry mascarpone scones.  BBQ chicken chili so hearty and flavorful that my SH didn't even complain about eating the leftovers.  White bean and turkey enchiladas that tasted restaurant-worthy.  A bran muffin recipe so perfect that I'll never need to find another.  And THIS salad-please, make it immediately.

Melon-Avocado-Arugula Salad with Crispy Prosciutto and Maple-Balsamic Vinaigrette, adapted from Seriously Delish, by Jessica Merchant

1/4 pound prosciutto, thinly sliced (I bought a cheap package at TJ's, which wasn't quite 1/4 a pound but seemed to be plenty.  And it was delicious, for what it's worth)

6 cups arugula

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1 cantaloupe, washed, halved, and seeded (I opted to slice the cantaloupe into small chunks and made one big salad bowl out of it all)

1 avocado, pitted, peeled, and sliced

vinaigrette:

2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

1 tablespoon maple syrup

1 garlic clove, minced

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil

1. Heat a nonstick skillet over medium heat and add the prosciutto.  Cook and toss with a wooden spoon (or something that won't scratch your skillet) until it is crisped and slightly golden in color, 5 to 6 minutes.  Remove the prosciutto and place it on a paper towel until ready to use.

2. Add the arugula to a large bowl and season with the salt and pepper.  If your melon halves don't sit straight, slice a little off the bottom to make them flat.  Divide the greens evenly between the melon halves and add half a sliver avocado to each. (As I mentioned, I opted to make one big salad, so I sliced the whole avocado and added it to the bowl).  

3. For the vinaigrette, whisk together the vinegar, syrup, garlic, salt, and pepper in a bowl.  Stir in the olive oil while continuing to whisk.  Pour over the salad.  Add the crispy prosciutto on top.  

Notes:

-I use a small jam jar for making dressings and vinaigrettes.  I shake vigorously and everything emulsifies perfectly.  This might not be the best technique for recipes that use cream or yogurt in the dressing, but so far it's worked well.

-My SH tends to *require* some kind of protein in every meal in order for it to be a "real" meal in his mind.  I grilled a few sausages to serve on the side of the salad, but in reality, we didn't need them at all.  It's a perfect meal for two adults, I think.  I ate it for lunch the following day.  

whole grain pancakes

Saturday morning fixture! Stunning photography, I know. 

When last I wrote, I was on a Megan Gordon/Whole-Grain Mornings run.  I'd been ready to share at least three more of my favorite, most successful recipes.  I was on a roll.  It was cooler outside, spring-like even.

No surprise here-it's almost two months later and I'm finally getting back to sharing these pancakes, perhaps the best whole-grain item I've added to our repertoire.  It's a great, simple way to start incorporating more whole grains into your routine, if that so happens to be an interest or goal.  Both spelt and buckwheat are featured, and neither are the kind of strong flavors that it could take a while to grow accustomed to, which can be the case with other whole grain flours.  Spelt, for the record, is easily interchangeable with all-purpose flour.

Here's the thing about these pancakes-they're not traditional.  Not fluffy, and you won't have golden yellow cake springing back beautifully as you plunge your fork into it.  They are sturdy little brown cakes, with the earthy, unmistakable flavor of buckwheat. Tiny pieces of oats are visible in each pancake, lending them a virtuous texture.  Despite their relative heft, the pancakes themselves cook up quite thin, giving them a delicate appearance though they are NOT at all wimpy.  We love them around here, and I've gotten into the habit of making a batch every Saturday morning.


start here:
Whole-Grain Pancake Mix

2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
3/4 cup buckwheat flour
1/2 cup spelt flour
3/4 cup rolled oats
3 tablespoons natural cane sugar
2 tablespoons baking powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

In a large bowl, stir together all the ingredients.  Scoop into a large resealable plastic bag or a large glass jar and store for 6 to 8 weeks.  Refrigerate for longer shelf life (3-4 months).  Give the mix a good stir before using it to integrate any ingredients that may have settled.  My Notes: As you can see by my lovely photo, I store my mix in a large zip-lock.  It yields about 4 batches of pancakes.  

Whole-Grain Buttermilk Pancakes

1 large egg
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup buttermilk
1 tablespoon butter, melted and lightly cooled, plus more for greasing the pan and for serving
1 cup Whole-Grain Pancake Mix
Honey or maple syrup, for serving

1. In a small bowl, whisk together the egg, milk, buttermilk and butter.  Whisk the pancake mix into the milk mixture until smooth.  Let the batter rest for 10 minutes to allow the dry ingredients to soak up some of the liquid.  If the batter feels far too thick and difficult to easily whisk or stir, add 1 tablespoon more milk or water to loosen it up.  I've never had this problem-it always is quite easy to stir, though not too thin.  
2. Melt a nub of butter in a large skillet or griddle over medium heat (you want the melted butter to completely coat the pan).  Scoop 1/4 cup of batter into the pan.  Repeat, depending on the size of your pan.  Cook each pancake until the bottom is golden brown and the top begins to bubble, 2-3 minutes. Flip and cook the other side an additional 1 to 2 minutes.  You'll likely need another bit of butter in the pan between batches. The extra butter is a must! Serve warm, topped with butter, honey, or maple syrup as desired.  Maple syrup, always. 

whole-grain gingerbread

We're going to start off my Megan Gordon-inspired week of posts with a delectable gingerbread.  I'm almost always keen on gingerbread cookies, particularly the giant, soft ones covered in sugar, but until recently, I'd not made any effort to bake gingerbread.  My mom used to make a simple one from a boxed mix that she dressed up with homemade lemon syrup, and I always had such fond memories of it that I almost didn't want to recreate it-somehow sacrilegious not to have it at home.  However, Megan's recipe for gingerbread seemed just different enough and just wholesome enough to give a shot.  Whole Grain Mornings is a breakfast cookbook, after all.  If this gingerbread could pass as breakfast I definitely wanted to make it!

As you can see from the photo, my little guy relishes the gingerbread.  It's very, very good-deep and rich but also hearty.  I'm not normally a big fan of gingerbread cookies that have a strong presence of molasses, so I was shy about putting so much into the bread, but it's very subtle.  The spices and little bits of orange zest really shine through.  When I make it, I do sprinkle a tiny amount of powdered sugar on the top, mostly for the pleasing aesthetics of a snow-topped cake, but precious little A isn't getting that benefit.  For him, I cut the gingerbread into big squares which he enjoys after his afternoon nap, preferably with a big glass of "Mater milk."


Whole-Grain Gingerbread, adapted from Whole Grain Mornings, by Megan Gordon

Notes: Megan's cookbook focuses on the use of whole grains (in case you hadn't figured that out yet!), which has aided and inspired me to learn more about various flours and sugars.  Spelt flour, a primary component in this recipe, is actually quite similar to all-purpose flour, and it can often be used interchangeably.

3/4 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup spelt flour
1/2 cup packed muscovado sugar or brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 cup chopped crystallized ginger (optional-I almost never have crystallized ginger on hand, so I've never made the gingerbread with it, and haven't missed it)
1 tablespoon grated fresh ginger
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 tablespoons grated orange zest
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper (optional)
8 tablespoons unsalted butter, plus more for greasing the pan
1/2 cup unsulfured molasses
3 tablespoons honey
1/2 cup whole milk
1/4 cup plain whole-milk yogurt
1 large egg, beaten

1. Preheat the oven to 350.  Butter and flour a 9-inch square pan.
2. In a large bowl, whisk together the flours, sugar, baking soda, salt, the three kinds of ginger, cloves, cinnamon, orange zest, and pepper.  Use your hands to break up any clumps of sugar, and whisk well.
3. In a small saucepan over medium-low heat, melt the butter.  Add the molasses and honey and cook, stirring, until the mixture is warm but not boiling.  Pour into the flour mixture and stir to combine.  Add the milk, yogurt, and egg and fold together until combined.  With a little arm power, the mixture will soon look like a loose brownie batter.
4. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake until the edges pull away from the pan slightly and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean, 35 to 40 minutes.  Let the gingerbread cool completely in the pan before slicing and serving.  Any leftovers can be covered and stored at room temperature for up to 4 days.

Your scones are scrumptious

As it happens, my cookbook obsession has not abated.  I have a problem.  In the garage stands a bookshelf fully loaded with cookbooks.  Stacks of them line the bottom of our garage storage shelves.    In the house, I have finally cleared a messy pile of them into an organized row 25 strong that are propped into the huge space behind my sink.  There are approximately five more on my Amazon wishlist.  Just recently, Luisa Weiss of Wednesday Chef (another famous food blogger that I am growing to absolutely love) referred to herself on Instagram as a "cookbook magpie."  THAT IS TOTALLY ME.

I had been eying Huckleberry, a cookbook out of Santa Monica's Huckleberry Cafe, for quite some time after seeing posts about it on a few blogs and Instagram accounts that I shamelessly stalk.  I showed some restraint at first by adding it to my Christmas wishlist and sharing it with all my family, hoping that surely someone would just pick it up for me.  Unfortunately, my family is entirely too thoughtful to simply go off a list, and all preferred going the "original" and meaningful gift route.  I was, of course grateful, but the minute the holidays were over I decided I had waited long enough for my book.

Almost everything in Zoe Nathan's book sounds amazing. I felt confident that I would start with a tart or something decadent.  However, as of late, my pint-sized "boss" has been starting the day with the refrain "More scones, please!", so I thought I might surprise him with a plate of these.  I happened to have everything on hand, which is actually a great selling point for this recipe, and I was eager to try a new version of scone.  I am wedded to Molly's scone recipes, and can practically whip them up in my sleep, but branching out can be good.

Whole-Wheat Raisin Scones, adapted from Huckleberry by Zoe Nathan and
(makes 10 scones)

3/4 cup raisins
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup whole-wheat flour
2 tsp baking powder
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
1/3 cup sugar, plus more for sprinkling
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/2 cup + 2 tbsp cold, unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1/3 cup cold buttermilk
1 batch Egg Wash (2 egg yolks, 2 tbsp heavy cream, pinch of kosher salt whisked together until homogenous.  This yields around 1/4 cup and can be refrigerated for up to 2 days)*

1. Plump the raisins in 1 cup warm water for 10 minutes, then drain and finely chop.
2. In a very large bowl, combine the all-purpose flour, whole-wheat flour, baking powder, baking soda, sugar, and salt and toss well.  Throw in the cold butter and work it with your fingertips until the pieces are pea- and lima-bean size.  Add the buttermilk and raisins.  Lightly toss to distribute.
3. Immediately dump everything onto a clean surface with more than enough space to work the dough.  Using only the heel of your palm, quickly flatten out the dough.  Gather the dough back together into a mound and repeat.  After two or three repetitions, the dough should begin holding together.  Be sure to avoid overworking.  You should still see some pea-size bits of butter running through it.
4. Shape the dough into a 12-inch long cylinder.  Lightly flatten the top and cut into ten triangles.  Transfer to an ungreased sheet pan and freeze for at least 2 hours before baking, or up to 1 month, tightly wrapped.
5. Preheat your oven to 375º.  Remove the scones from the freezer.  Space them with plenty of breathing room on two ungreased sheet pans, brush with the egg wash, and sprinkle liberally with sugar (I skipped the sugar).  Bake from frozen until baked through, nicely browned, and easily lifted off the plan, about 25 minutes.

*Zoe Nathan notes that the egg wash recipe is quite flexible.  If you have no cream, for example, whole milk is fine.  A whole egg can be used in substitute for two egg yolks.  I didn't have any cream and knew that I was only making one batch of scones, so I opted to use the single egg and not waste a second one.  

My little guy, whose love for scones, by the way, began after many readings of James Marshall's Yummers, gobbled these delicious, craggy scones right up.  In the intro to the recipe, Nathan describes what she wanted when coming up with it, something "as close to graham crackers as I could manage", and I think that'a perfect description for what they taste like.  Hearty, barely sweet, and so very warm.  I don't particularly love raisins, myself, but didn't mind them at all as we shared our breakfast.  I'm already planning for another batch.

meatloaf: it's what you make for someone you love

I have written many times about my love and adoration for Molly Wizenberg, her books, and her blog, Orangette.  My dear sister-in-law (so very dear, by the way) sent me a link to Orangette all the way back in 2008 (!!!!) and I've never looked back.  A Homemade Life, Molly's first book, sits well-worn and loved in a special, sparse shelf where I keep my most cherished books, ensconced between East of Eden and Absalom, Absalom!  I've read it many, many times, and neither the memoir itself nor the recipes have ever disappointed.

You can imagine my excitement when I learned that Molly would be writing a second book, this one centered around the origin and development of the restaurant she began with her husband, Brandon.  Ok, you probably don't have to imagine it.  It has not gone unmentioned on the old blog, even in the dearth of posts over the past two years.  I eagerly anticipated its arrival, and I was crushed to discover that I wouldn't be home when Molly visited the Bay Area for a book tour shortly after Delancey's release (it is, in case you have not guessed, named after the restaurant).

Enter my newest, sweetest friend J.  We happened to be at the same table at our MOPS group and enjoyed forging a new friendship in the early winter and through spring.  J had recently moved from Seattle, home of Molly Wizenberg, and was actually a frequent patron of Delancey!  After I set aside my jealousy, I quickly familiarized her (and probably frightened her) with my obsession.  Not only did she decide to read the book with me, thus making it our first book club choice together (we are now on our fourth book, and our club contains three other members), she also volunteered to attend the book signing, taking both our copies.  What a gem.

Delancey is a bit different from A Homemade Life, specifically because it is focused entirely on the restaurant and how it came about.  It's as much about how Molly and Brandon each dealt with such a huge project as it is a fascinating look at the crazy amount of labor, money, and inspiration that goes into building a successful restaurant.  As such, there aren't as many recipes.  I can attest, however, that the ones Molly chose to include are really, really wonderful.  The fact that she has turned me into the kind of person that would not only make meatloaf, but eat it and ENJOY it, is something I can still hardly believe.

Perhaps the least appetizing food photo in the history of the world. 

I'm fairly certain that I've written about my disdain for baked meat.  Even typing the phrase makes me cringe.  In my mind, any meat, particularly beef, needs the nice, browned crust that comes from being grilled or lightly fried in a pan.  The idea of meatloaf is almost mindblowing in its sheer grossness, in my opinion.  However, most red-blooded Americans find it to be an incredibly comforting, wholesome dish.  It reminds them of their mothers, or grandmothers.  It's the kind of thing people remember eating as they grew up.  My SH certainly likes it, and since my little guy will eat anything that is in the vicinity of ketchup I knew he would like it too.  Since I want to be the kind of mother who makes food he remembers, I figured I should give meatloaf a shot.  What better recipe to trust than one put forth by Molly Wizenberg?

I took one bite of my first completed meatloaf, quietly sizzling with warmth, juicy but not overwhelmed with tomato flavors, and I felt like I knew what the fuss was about.  Molly says the trick to her meatloaf is the fish sauce, which might be true, but all I know is that it is finally something I can enjoy eating too.  I've made it many times since, and I always feel such a satisfaction thinking that I've made something that my family is comforted by, that they love to eat.  I think that is what you're going for when you make a meatloaf.  I should make one for J next.  :)


Molly Wizenberg's Meatloaf, adapted from Delancey

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 1/3 cups fresh breadcrumbs
About 1/3 cup whole milk, or enough to saturate the breadcrumbs
1 pound ground beef
1 pound ground pork
1 teaspoon fine sea salt
2 teaspoons fish sauce
2 large eggs, beaten well
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
1/3 cup minced fresh Italian parsley
1/3 cup ketchup, plus 1/4 cup for topping the loaf

1. Preheat the oven to 350 F. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment or aluminum foil.
2. Warm the oil in a medium saucepan over moderate heat.  Add the onion and garlic, and cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion is softened and translucent but not brown.  Set aside.
3. Put the breadcrumbs in a small bowl, and drizzle the milk over them, stirring to moisten.  Set aside.
4. Put the beef and pork in a large mixing bowl, breaking up any large hunks.  Add the salt, fish sauce, eggs, mustard, parsley, and 1/3 cup ketchup.  Add the onion and garlic.  Using your hand, squeeze the milk from the breadcrumbs; then add the breadcrumbs to the meat mixture (discard the milk).  Holding one hand in a claw shape, press it down into the ingredients, and briskly stir with your hand to mix evenly.  When the meat and seasonings are uniformly mixed, pick up the mixture and turn in over in the bowl, and briefly mix again (Turning it over helps to ensure that no ingredient settles to the bottom and clumps there.)
5. Transfer the mixture to the prepared baking sheet, and use your hands to pat and shape it into an approximately 9 by 5-inch loaf.  (If you find that the mixture is sticking to your hands, rinse them well and leave them slightly wet; the moisture will keep the meat from sticking).  Brush the loaf evenly with the remaining 1/4 cup ketchup.  (see photo above of undressed loaf)
6. Cook for 45 minutes to 1 hour, or until a thermometer inserted into the center of the loaf reaches 155 F to 160 F.  Cool for at least 20 minutes before slicing.

raspberry buttermilk cake

Apparently, raspberries are an incredibly invasive plant.  We started with one big plant in our backyard, in a lovely little corner spot of the flower bed, and it's been happy and productive the past two years.  However, in the early days of spring, it began to increase, sprouting up little suckers and winding its way down the bed.  My SH repeatedly asked me to pull up the new sprouts, but I couldn't bear it.  How could I stand to eliminate any little new possibilities for precious, delicate raspberries?  Surely we could leave the new plants alone!  Despite his ardent warnings that a raspberry plant left unchecked could even wind its way into the yard, I opted to take our chances.  

It's hard not to gloat, but I can proudly say this has been our best year every for raspberries.  We've picked a bowlful almost every day since we saw the first beautiful single red berry, hanging like perfect gem from one of the new branches.  I have a bowl in the fridge as I write, just waiting for us to enjoy with breakfast.  

Considering that I've been on a bit of a baking rash lately, I decided that my bounty of raspberries deserved more than just serving as snack food.  I scoured my cookbooks and fave food blogs, and while I came across lots of promising raspberry-centric recipes, it wasn't until I looked through Smitten Kitchen's archive that I found just what I needed: a raspberry buttermilk cake. 

It was the perfect treatment for my raspberries, and had the added bonus of being incredibly easy and quick.  After whipping up a simple cake batter, the raspberries are scattered across the top, sinking into it like they are resting in a creamy, warm bath.  The end product is a light, almost buoyant cake, with the tangy flavor of buttermilk, and just mildly sweet.  I didn't even feel guilty giving a big wedge to A as a snack.  

grilled salmon with orzo, feta, and red wine vinaigrette

Let it be known that I am not enamored of cookbooks emblazoned with portraits of their respective authors.  In fact, I have an automatic prejudice against them, the one exception being Jamie Oliver.  There is something endearing and charming about his face, and he's usually laughing or puttering in a garden or something on the covers of his cookbooks, so it's somehow not as offensive as a cheesy pose.  For me, the cover of a cookbook should showcase the FOOD.  Isn't that what it's all about?  I have certainly never purchased a cookbook because the broad, smiling gaze of a cook convinced me of the quality therein.

All of this being said, I've given a pass to Curtis Stone.  I heard about his cookbook on my favorite family food blog, Dinner: A Love Story, and the simple, yet delicious recipe that inspired Jenny's post  (Grilled Shrimp and Asparagus with Lemon-Shallot Vinaigrette, in case you're wondering) caught my attention.  I'm in a stage of life right now where simple is better, where it's infinitely easier if I can stuff healthy items from all the food groups into one bowl, and where I will reject a recipe out of hand if there are more than 8 or 10 steps.  The subtitle of Curtis Stone's first cookbook, What's for Dinner? is Delicious Recipes for a Busy Life, and when I read its blurb on Amazon I decided it was perfect for me, despite the fact that Curtis's Hollywood face cheerfully, glamorously graced its cover.  

Yikes! I'm pretty sure Curtis is rocking a spray tan here, along with his turquoise shirt.

I've made quite a few recipes from the book, and I've been wholly satisfied with all of them, but as this particular dish was made most recently, I thought it was a good place to start.  Of course, it's hard to turn a good piece of salmon into anything that's not utterly delicious, but I particularly loved this treatment, which is a lightly grilled piece of fish atop an orzo salad dressed with a summery vinaigrette.  Feta and toasted pine nuts give the perfect amount of creaminess and texture to the salad, which would make a wonderful lunch on its own.  Considering that my little guy would prefer to dine on salmon each and every meal, it was an excellent dinner choice.

Grilled Salmon with Orzo, Feta, and Red Wine Vinaigrette, adapted from What's for Dinner? by Curtis Stone

Orzo:
1 1/2 cups orzo
3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
3 tablespoons finely chopped shallots
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 ounces fresh baby spinach (about 3 cups not packed)
1 1/2 cups grape tomatoes, cut in half
1/2 cup pine nuts, toasted (Side note: this did take a bit of extra time, but was definitely worth it)
1/4 cup thinly sliced basil leaves
1 cup crumbled feta cheese (4 ounces)
2 tablespoons chopped fresh chives, for garnish (I skipped the chives because I didn't want to buy them for just one dish)

Salmon:
Four 5-ounce skinless salmon fillets
Olive oil, for coating the fish
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

1. Prepare an outdoor grill for medium-high cooking over direct heat.
2. Meanwhile, make the orzo salad.  Bring a large saucepan of salted water to a boil over high heat.  Add the orzo and cook, stirring often, for about 8 minutes, or until just tender.  Drain the orzo in a sieve and set aside.
3. In a medium bowl, whisk the vinegar, shallots, and garlic together.  Gradually whisk in the olive oil.  Season to taste with salt and pepper.   (I used a small Mason jar for the dressing instead of a bowl-I used a small whisk for the ingredients and then shook it up as well to emulsify).
4. In a large bowl, toss the warm orzo, spinach, tomatoes, pine nuts, and basil with the vinaigrette.  Season to taste with salt and pepper.  Set aside at room temperature.
5. To cook the salmon: Coat the salmon with olive oil and season with salt and pepper.  Oil the cooking grate.  Place the salmon the grill with the top right corner of each fillet facing the 2'o-clock position and cook for 4 minutes without removing the salmon (This will help give the salmon a good sear of nice grill marks and help it release from the grate).  Using a thin metal spatula, starting at the corner of each fillet nearest you, flip the fillets over.  Grill for about 2 minutes, or until the fish is opaque with a slightly rosy center when flaked in the thicket part with the tip of a small knife.  Remove from the grill.  (These are very precise instructions, but the angle did make lovely grill marks)
6. Mound the salad in the center of a large serving platter or our dinner plates.  Sprinkle with the feta cheese.  Top with the salmon, sprinkle with the chives, and serve.

chocolate-coconut pound cake

Though the lack of posts suggests otherwise, I have actually been making quite a few things that are blog-worthy. I have a back-log of "bloggable" recipes that probably extends to August, so when I eventually get around to posting about wonderful summery things like quinoa salad with nectarines and feta, it should not come as a surprise.  

In addition to multiple batches of both this olive oil and apricot granola and Megan Gordon's divine hazelnut-cacao nib variation, there has been oven-roasted salmon with cauliflower.  Lemon-rosemary scones.  Multiple batches of my dear, dear sister-in-law's banana curry.  Deep dish apple pie.  Steak cobbler with gruyere biscuits.  And not one, but three loaves of grapefruit olive oil cake.  Clearly, I have been depriving everyone of much deliciousness.

Instead of sharing one of the myriad of successes coming out of my humble kitchen, however, I'm going to tell you about a cake.  Spontaneous cooking or baking is not something that I do often.  I tend to need lots of planning time.  It's not unusual for me to reject a dish out of hand if I don't have every last ingredient at the ready.  Pretty much the only things I make that are totally spur of the moment are scrambled eggs and bowls of cereal.  And clearly that last one doesn't count.

However, when I saw a recipe for a buttermilk-based coconut and chocolate pound cake in my latest Bon Appetit, I decided that I needed it right then.  As it happened, I had a fresh carton of buttermilk in the fridge-I've been trying to keep it stocked so that I can make waffles and pancakes on the weekend-and as I continue to be totally captivated with any recipe that features coconut flakes, I have a surplus of them in my pantry.

Totally going against my normal routine, I decided to whip up the cake while A and I were eating our lunch.  I am forever getting up getting him things anyway, so it seemed like a decent use of my time.  It came together quickly, and I had a wonderful treat to look forward to as an afternoon snack.  I emerged into the kitchen after our nap time routine to the heavenly scent of deep, dark chocolate and slowly roasting coconut.

The final product was just as wonderful as it looks.  Not too sweet, with a subtle, pleasing hint of coconut from the coconut oil and the perfect, slightly bitter taste of dark chocolate.  It was very sturdy, and kept well for a week four days.  I can't wait to make it again. 

Chocolate-Coconut Pound Cake, adapted from Bon Appetit, March 2014

1/4 cup unsalted butter, plus more for greasing the pan

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder

1 tsp. kosher salt

3/4 tsp. baking powder

1/2 cup virgin coconut oil, room temperature

1 1/2 cups plus 1 tbsp. sugar

3 large eggs

1 tsp. vanilla extract

2/3 cup buttermilk

1/4 cup unsweetened coconut flakes

1. Preheat oven to 325.  Butter an 8 x 4 loaf pan; line with parchment paper, leaving a generous overhang on long sides.  

2. Whisk flour, cocoa powder, salt, and baking powder in a medium bowl; set aside.  

3. Using an electric mixer on medium-high speed, beat oil, 1/4 cup butter, and 1 1/2 cups sugar until pale and fluffy, 5-7 minutes.  Add eggs one at a time, beating to blend between additions; beat until mixture is very light and doubled in volume, 5-8 minutes.  Add vanilla. 

4. Reduce mixer speed to low and add dry ingredients in 3 additions, alternating with buttermilk in 2 additions, beginning and ending with dry ingredients (do not over mix; it will cause cake to buckle and split).  Scrape batter into prepared pan and run a spatula through the center, creating a canal.  Sprinkle with coconut and remaining 1 tbsp. sugar.  

5. Bake cake, tenting with foil if coconut browns too much before cake is done (it should be very dark and toasted), until a tester inserted into the center comes out clean, 70-80 minutes.  Transfer pan to a wire rack; let cake cook in pan 20 minutes before turning out. 

olive oil granola with dried apricots and pistachios

You guys, I made granola.  I have been raving about its success over and over the past few days to my sister and my husband, neither of whom are displaying adequate enthusiasm.  I suppose it's not a particularly complicated endeavor, but somehow I have a notion that making something from scratch that is so widely available, in a multitude of different forms and flavors, is worthy of praise and accolades.  It would have been easy to purchase my own granola, is what I'm saying.  Instead, I made something far more satisfying and delicious, to say nothing of the fact that the massive quantity produced from the recipe means it was particularly cost-effective.

I devoured the entire huge portion of granola in one week, a feat that I probably shouldn't brag about because, truth be told, granola is one of those things that likes to pretend it's a "healthy snack" when really it's a bunch of wholesome nuts delicately crusted in sweets and spices.  I do not mean to denounce it entirely-it's certainly a better choice than a handful of cookies, for example, but I probably should not have taken it upon myself to eat it all.  I felt certain that little A would be a big fan, and I was looking forward to spicing up our boring breakfast routines with bowls of granola and yogurt, but he is very distrustful of new things these days, and mostly pushed around what he called "nuts" entirely, eating only his yogurt. I plan to keep making granola until I've converted him.

Though I used a recipe from my Melissa Clark cookbook, which I adore and should cook from and write about more, I became intrigued about making granola after reading about Megan Gordon on Orangette.  Megan "became famous" essentially because of her granola, Marge Granola, which she now sells from her bakery in Seattle.  Her cookbook, Whole Grain Mornings, was just released, and I am so excited about it-an entire cookbook devoted specifically to breakfasts that focus on whole grains and don't skimp on things like cream and butter!  She is a girl after my own heart! One of her recipes is incredibly similar to this one, with just a few insignificant differences, but I think I prefer Melissa's recipe.  I plan on trying Megan's version of hazelnut granola with cacao nibs next!

Olive Oil Granola with Dried Apricots and Pistachios, adapted from In the Kitchen with a Good Appetite, by Melissa Clark

3 cups old-fashioned rolled oats*
1 1/2 cups raw pistachios, hulled
1 cup raw pumpkin seeds, hulled
1 cup coconut chips**
3/4 cup pure maple syrup (you can use 2/3 cup, but the granola will be drier-I used 3/4 cup)
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/3 cup packed light brown sugar
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom or ground ginger (I used ginger)
3/4 cup chopped dried apricots

1. Preheat the oven to 300 degrees.
2. In a large bowl, combine the oats, pistachios, pumpkin seeds, coconut chips, maple syrup, olive oil, brown sugar, salt, cinnamon, cardamom or ginger.  Spread the mixture on a large rimmed baking sheet (about 11x17 inches) in an even layer and bake for 45 minutes, stirring every 10 minutes, until golden brown and well toasted.
3.  Transfer the granola to a large bowl and add the apricots, tossing to combine.  Megan's granola recipe suggested adding the fruit after the granola has cooled completely, which made mixing the fruit in thoroughly a much easier task.

*Megan's book gives a lot of great advice about cooking and baking with oats, and it's important to note that for a tasty granola, you need to use rolled oats, definitely not instant.
**I have it on good authority that coconut "chips" are actually large coconut flakes.  I use them frequently for the kale and coconut farro bowl that I continue to be obsessed with, and I pick them up at Whole Foods.  They are well worth the effort to find, big shards of unsweetened coconut that add a great texture to a variety of dishes.  I might even have to start buying in bulk, which is apparently an option on Amazon.

fish fingers with lime-ginger dipping sauce OR adventures in fried food

No one ever said that fried food photographed well.  

One might expect that for my first food-related post for the new year (my first post of 2014, actually), I would compose a nice, virtuous paragraph or two about a particularly healthy recipe perfectly suitable for a new year and its accompanying resolutions.  While I certainly do intend to join the leagues of those who desire to cook from a more health-conscious perspective this year, I whole-heartedly confess to you that the meal that I'm going to be sharing with you today is not of the that variety.  That would be because the main component of the dish is fried.

I have another confession for you: while I am like any other red-blooded individual that loves the deliciously bad-for-you crunch and texture of fried food, I have a serious aversion to frying anything in my own kitchen.  It's silly, really.  My general attitude towards food is that it should be thoroughly enjoyed and occasional forays involving funnel cakes or French fries are absolutely acceptable as long as they are, indeed, occasional.  I simply cannot, for whatever reason, bring myself to pour inches of oil with wild abandon into my pan.  It seems....reckless.

Considering that my little guy has an aversion to chicken and meat and consumes only fish as his chosen protein (the little prince!), I decided that I might have to relax and give in to my frying fears in order to try a time-honored family dinner: the fish stick. (Let's face it-one can only afford salmon so many times in a month!) Both my husband and I can recall eating fish sticks in childhood, and our memories are rather fond, even considering that they undoubtedly came from a box.  When I saw a recipe for fish fingers crusted with panko in one of my newer, family-friendly cookbooks, I decided they might be worth a shot.  Truth be told, I was initially swayed by the dipping sauce, which is good enough to eat alone.

I couldn't completely relinquish my anti-frying principles, even though the recipe calls for a reasonably small amount of oil (1/3 inch in the pain).  I spread it around just enough for there to be a thin layer of oil in the pain (probably  more like 1/8 inch), but it certainly did the trick.  Thick wedges of halibut dredged in a soy-flavored egg wash and flakes of panko became something like the fish fingers of memory, with a lovely golden crust that absorbed the addictive dipping sauce and provided a perfect bite.  Funnily enough, my first reaction upon tasting them was that they were really just like what I might expect for a fish stick, only with the satisfying knowledge that they were composed of fresh, wild fish with no added processed ingredients.  It was difficult not to consume the whole bowl of sauce, and in fact, little A did indeed scoop quite a bit of it up in his spoon.  We had to beg and plead to get him to actually eat the fish, despite how much he loves it.

Fish Fingers with Lime-Ginger Dipping Sauce, adapted from Keepers, by Kathy Brennan and Caroline Campion
-The jury is still out on this book-it was recommended on one of my favorite blogs, and as I'm trying to make a real effort to create meals for my family that aren't especially complicated and will also appeal to the tastes of kids and adults alike, it seemed like a good fit.  This was certainly a good place to start.

1/2 cup all-purpose flour
2 large egg whites
2 tablespoons soy sauce
2 cups panko breadcrumbs
1 1/2 pounds thick white, flaky fish fillets, such as halibut, cod, or mahimahi, cut into 4x1-inch strips and patted dry
Salt and pepper
Vegetable oil for pan-frying

1. Put the flour on a large plate.  In a shallow bowl, whisk together the egg whites and soy sauce until frothy.  Put the panko in a deep dish.
2. Season the fish with salt and pepper.  Working with a few pieces at a time, dredge the fish strips in the flour, coating completely, then shake off any excess.  Dip them in the egg mixture, letting any excess drip off, then coat them with the panko, gently pressing them into the breadcrumbs so they stick.  Put the pieces on a platter large enough to fit all of them without crowding and repeat until all of the fish is breaded.  If you have room in your refrigerator, chill the fish while the oil heats; it will help firm up the breading.
3. In a large skillet, heat about 1/3 inch of oil over medium heat.  Working in batches, add the fish and cook until golden brown and just cooked through, 2 to 3 minutes per side.  Transfer the fish to a paper-towel lined platter and tent with foil to keep warm.  Repeat with remaining fish.  Serve with the Lime-Ginger Dipping Sauce if you like.

Lime-Ginger Dipping Sauce

2 tablespoons sesame oil
2 tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons rice vinegar (not seasoned)
1 tablespoon honey
Juice of 1 lime
1 tablespoon grated peeled fresh ginger
1 jalepeno, seeded and finely chopped (optional)

1. In a small bowl, whisk together the sesame oil, soy sauce, vinegar, honey, lime juice, ginger, and jalepeno (if using).  Check the seasonings.  The sauce will keep, covered in the refrigerator, for up to 3 days.

pomegranate pork loin with cabbage

If you have read even a little of my blog, or happen to know me in real life, you probably know that when it comes to extreme weather, I've developed something of a "thin skin" ever since moving to California.  One might think that a native Texan who grew up in what can properly be described as a rugged, mountainous desert (all with no air conditioning, I might add) should be able to handle even the warmest days here with no complaint.  The opposite is true, actually--on those days it is usual to find me prostrate on the couch in front of a fan, wishing for a popsicle and sorely tempted to plunge my face into my son's water table.  All of this behavior on my part is ridiculous, especially considering that a hot day here is easily 10-15 degrees cooler than a mild Texas summer day.  

I bring all of my complaints up because even by California standards, it's been quite a warm summer.  There was one particularly scorching week that even my dad found difficult to bear (he was visiting for A's birthday).  This resulted in LOTS of grilling, because as everyone knows, it feels absolutely criminal to even go near one's stove on a hot day, knowing just how much hotter your house can get.  Days passed in this fashion, and my culinary inspiration trickled down to almost nothing.  I was desperate for an opportunity to turn my oven back on.  

My friends, the time has finally arrived.  In the mornings, I can comfortably wear a sweater.  I have to be careful that little A doesn't get completely soaked when he's playing with his water table (a daily afternoon activity), because the breeze can be nippy.  We have definitely started burrowing under the covers at night.  

For my first cooler weather dish, I settled upon this pork loin from the wonderfully family friendly cookbook, Dinner: A Love Story.  I had a sneaking suspicion that it would be both easy and delicious, and I was right on both counts.  This is not exactly a revelation, because pork (and plenty of other things) predictably falls apart into strands of tastiness when simmered low and slow with plenty of flavorful juices.  That doesn't at all take away from how wonderful this particular combination of wine, broth, and pomegranate juice becomes after seeping into the pork for three hours.  All three of us loved it, and A particularly enjoyed the rich, purpled cabbage, which actually ended up tasting a bit like a mild pickle.  I'm already looking forward to making it again, and as it happens, the conditions are perfectly right.  

Pomegranate Pork Loin with Cabbage, adapted from Dinner: A Love Story, by Jenny Rosenstrach

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 boneless pork loin (2 1/2-3 pounds), patted dry and salted and peppered

1 large onion, chopped

1 garlic clove, minced

1 teaspoon Chinese Five Spice (optional: I skipped it myself)

Salt and pepper

Dash or two of soy sauce

About 3 cups any combination of red wine, pomegranate juice, and chicken broth (Jenny recommended a third/a third/a third, which seemed to work out quite well)

1/2 head red cabbage, shredded

1. In a large Dutch oven set over medium-high heat, add the oil.  Brown the pork loin on all sides so you get a nice golden crust, about 5 minutes per side.  Remove to a plate.  Add teh onion, garlic, Chinese Five Spice (if using), and salt and pepper and start cooking until soft, about 5 minutes.

2. Return the pork to the pot.  Add the soy sauce and your combination of red wine, pomegranate juice, and broth to allow the liquid to come a third of the way up the loin.  Bring to a boil and then cover and simmer for 2-3 hours, flipping once halfway through (I set a timer halfway through).  Monitor the liquid level to make sure a third of loin is always submerged-add more juice or wine if not.)  The longer it simmers, the better.

3. About 10 minutes before you serve, add the red cabbage to the pot.  Remove the pork and slice.  Bring the braising liquid to a boil and cook until it has slightly thickened, 2-3 minutes (It won't get syrupy because there is not enough fat in the meat).  Serve the pork with the braising liquid and the cabbage spooned on top.  

Note: I was planning to serve this the next day, so after I sliced the pork, I put it back in the pan with the cabbage.  

sprouted kitchen's coconut loaf

We recently returned from a very busy, very HOT few days in Texas and I decided to take the kitchen by storm. Somehow, there is nothing more motivating than having been away from the comfort and familiarity of one's own kitchen.  I made several meals based on what I had in my pantry and freezer alone, than got totally on top of the grocery shopping, so much so that I won't need to return for at least another week.  The refrigerator is full to the brim (partially because of the ridiculous amounts of fruit that we go through for my little guy), and I have plenty of protein in the freezer.

Instead of resting on my proverbial laurels, I have decided to tackle a few baking recipes that have long been on my to-do list.  One of them is this coconut loaf, from Sara Forte's The Sprouted Kitchen cookbook.  I love everything I've made from her blog and cookbook, which are dedicated to clean eating and focused on whole foods.  One of the things I appreciate most about Sara's food is that it's remarkably accessible-I don't feel intimidated about the kinds of flours or grains I have on hand, and while I have been trying to experiment with a few new, more healthful products, Sara writes in such a way as to make one feel virtuous just for small efforts at change.

In my adult life, I've come to really love coconut, particularly as it's become relatively easy to find unsweetened and lowfat coconut products.  I'm not trying to be particularly saintly about my disdain for the sweetened version-it's really just too much for me, reminding me of cakes I encountered in childhood that were showered with the super-sweet flakes, when all I really wanted at the time was something chocolate.  I'm obsessed with these big flakes, which I use for one of my favorite dishes, and a can of lowfat coconut milk is a part of every curry recipe in my limited repertoire.  I love the inherent creaminess of coconut, which is somehow exotic and homey all at once.

From the moment I came across the coconut loaf recipe in Sara's book, I knew it needed to be tried.  I love having a mildly sweet loaf of bread around, something like a dessert but also light enough for breakfast.  It turned out exactly like I hoped, delicious and just barely sweet (even with the light powdered sugar glaze).  We ate it in the morning and at snack time, when little A joyfully begged for "more coconut cake!" I only wish that I had made it for a specific occasion and could have shared it with more people. I'm pretty sure they would have thanked me.

Coconut Loaf, adapted from The Sprouted Kitchen, by Sara Forte

1/4 cup extra-virgin coconut oil, melted, plus more for the pan
2 cups unsweetened shredded coconut
3/4 cup turbinado sugar
3/4 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
2 eggs
1 (13.5 ounce) can coconut milk
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 cup organic powdered sugar, or more as needed

*Note: Sara (of Sprouted Kitchen) is not the first cook/blogger that has recommended whole wheat pastry flour.  It's apparently quite a bit lighter and less coarse than whole wheat all-purpose flour.  I can attest that the loaf had a lovely light crumble, probably in no small part to the flour.  This was my first foray into coconut oil, and it was quite simple.  I just measured out what I needed and melted it in the microwave in a Pyrex mixing cup.

1. Preheat the oven to 350.  Grease an 8 1/2 loaf pan with a thin coat of coconut oil.
2. Spread the shredded coconut on a rimmed baking sheet and toast in the oven until just golden brown, about 4 minutes.  Watch it carefully, as it can burn very quickly.  Set aside 1/2 cup for topping the loaf.
3. In a large mixing bowl, combine 1 1/2 cups of the toasted coconut and the turbinado sugar.  Sift in the flours, nutmeg, baking powder, baking soda and salt and stir to combine.  In another bowl, whisk the eggs together, then whisk in 1 cup of the coconut milk, the coconut oil, and the vanilla.  Gently stir the wet mixture into the dry ingredients until just combined.  Pour the mixture into the loaf pan and bake until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean, 45-50 minutes.  Remove from the oven and let cool to room temperature.
4. While the loaf is cooling, combine 1/4 cup of the remaining coconut milk and the powdered sugar in the bowl and whisk until there are no lumps.  Add more sugar or coconut milk to taste, depending on the consistence you prefer (You won't use the whole can of coconut milk).  Pour the glaze over the cold cake and sprinkle the remaining toasted coconut on top.

Notes:
-I just used the "sugar in the raw" I had on hand, which is pretty close to turbinado.  I didn't have a hard time finding unsweetened coconut, but if you do, Sara suggests scaling back the sugar by about 2 tablespoons.  She also notes that the bread can be made a day ahead and kept covered until serving.  It really gets a bit dry after two days, even tightly wrapped.

a garlic-scented ear

Tonight I decided to improvise and create a raw tomato sauce, of sorts, in order to take advantage of my aforementioned ridiculously productive tomato plants.  It wasn't perfect, but it made for a tasty, healthy dinner, with the added bonus of being able to feel virtuous for using up my own crop.

After gathering a colander full of tomatoes, which took a while because the little guy occasionally needed a sample, I set a pot of water on to boil for pasta.  Once I tossed in the best option from my pantry, a whole wheat penne, I sautéed a couple of minced garlic cloves in olive oil just until they were toasty and brown.  I poured the infused oil over the tomatoes and added a generous sprinkle of sea salt, as well as some finely chopped basil.  Before I drained the pasta, I scooped out a cupful of the pasta water.  As soon as the pasta was done, I dumped the entire bowl of tomatoes into the now empty pasta pot.  I salted the tomatoes again and poured the starchy pasta water over the tomatoes, swirling it together with the garlic oil, and then tossed the whole mixture with the penne.  For a finishing touch, I grated over a handful of fresh Parmigiano Reggiano.  Yes, I can see how it might seem a bit much for me to spell out the entire name of my version of Parmesan, but it's honestly all I use.  You can thank Rachael Ray.

All in all, I was pleased, but there was definitely room for improvement.  For one, I think it might have been better to halve the tomatoes-there would have been a "saucier" effect.  It might also have been nice to cook them a bit with the oil.  Then there would have been the completely irresistible effect of hot, bursting cherry tomatoes.  Either way, there are plenty of other opportunities for me to try to make things better-my tomatoes aren't going away.

Even though I wasn't 100% in love with my raw cherry tomato sauce, my little A thought it was great. He happily plowed through his plate of pasta and spinach tonight in the shortest time span imaginable, asking for more when he was finished.  After his bath, as I was getting ready to brush his teeth and we were having a cozy little nuzzle, I noticed the particularly strong smell of garlic.  Thinking it must have been my hands, I immediately gave them a good scrub, but the smell didn't go away.  I then thought to take a closer look at A's head, which I had been showering with kisses, and that's when I noticed a tiny shard of toasted garlic, tucked right behind his ear.  Is it weird that it was an incredibly proud moment for me?  I know we've been blessed with a good little eater, but lately we've discovered that he's just like anyone else-once he discovers the treats he likes (cookies, chips, etc.), he will eagerly seek them out, even at meal time, turning down what he doesn't want as much.  I'm very happy that he found my impulsive tomato sauce appealing.

desperation dinner

This afternoon after I put my increasingly not-so-little A down for his nap and headed into the kitchen to tidy up the lunch dishes, I began to think with dread about the fact that I didn't really have anything planned for dinner.  In order to stick to my meal plan for the week, I would have had to run out for chicken and tomato sauce, and even though that list is small, I didn't relish the idea of dragging A into the grocery store.  Short trips like that are almost worse than big ones.

I took a look in the fridge, hoping for inspiration, and realized that I had just enough good produce and plenty of eggs-time for a frittata.  Next to beans and rice, or simple scrambled eggs and toast, a frittata is what I gravitate towards when I'm really desperate.  I made one for the first time about six years ago, in a rare instance of following a Giada DeLaurentiis recipe, and I've never really looked back.  For the uninitiated, a frittata is basically a combination of vegetables and/or meats sautéed together with a mixture of beaten eggs poured over it and then baked.  It's like an omelette, without the pesky trouble of having to flip it or ensure that the eggs in the filling are properly cooked through.

Now, a frittata is not rocket science, and there are a few different methods out there, but I will just include my basic routine here, which works out every time with no problem.  For some reason, I am always a bit fuzzy on how long it needs to bake-I rely on a general time frame and slice into the frittata to check for doneness.

-Preheat oven to 350-375.
-Prepare your filling.  I like to use combinations of whatever veggies I have on hand, and almost never make frittatas with meat.  This isn't really a health-conscious choice, more because if I've had to a resort to a frittata for dinner, I probably don't have any tasty protein on hand.  It would obviously be great with bacon, sausage, or ground beef or turkey.  On days like today, I attempt to dump in good amounts of everything I've got.  When I'm running low on produce, I'll drain a can of chickpeas to supplement the frittata.  Today's combo was halved cherry tomatoes (harvested from our ridiculously productive tomato crop), a package of mushrooms that were miraculously not slimy, two sturdy zucchinis, a handful of spinach, and a tired leek that had been languishing in the fridge for almost two weeks.
-Saute filling in a tablespoon or two (depending on how much filling you're using) of extra-virgin olive oil, in an OVEN SAFE PAN (this is critical, because you'll be transferring the pan to the oven).  The length of time will depend on the vegetable you use, but ultimately, what you're going for is a happy medium between raw and soft. You want a slight crunch to remain, because the veggies will be cooking longer in the oven.
-Whisk eggs with a bit of milk.  A good ratio is probably 3 eggs to 1 cup of uncooked filling, but this is flexible.  I usually make a six-egg frittata.  Season eggs with salt and pepper.
-Once the filling is ready, spread out evenly in the pan. Pour the egg mixture over it.  Swirl the pan around to be sure that the egg has spread completely throughout pan.  It's completely okay if there are sections of filling that are thicker than others.  If you'd like, sprinkle the top with 1/2 - 1 cup of grated cheese of your choice.  We like sharp cheddar, and of course, Gruyere.
-Pop in the oven for around 20-25 minutes.  The time might need to be adjusted according to how large your frittata is going to be (longer for more eggs).  You'll know it's done when the eggs have set completely and the top is golden brown-give the handle of your pan a shake-if it's done, you won't see any movement.  For a final check, slice into the frittata to check to see if it's cooked through.
-For a more complete dinner, serve with a nice green salad.  If you're desperate like we are, pass a bottle of Cholula and devour the whole frittata in one sitting.

and then I fell in love....SK's tomato sauce with onion and butter

Oh, the butter.

Given my spotty blogging history of the past year or so, you might have thought that one of the reasons I didn't post much, specifically about food, was because I had fallen into the "tired mom trap" of cooking the same old easy dinners over and over.  I am here to tell you that is exactly what has happened.  For the most part, I DO stick to a rather uninspiring repertoire.  The only reason my SH hasn't mutinied is because he isn't particularly enamored with food in the first place, and as long as there is some sort of discernible protein, he'll be (mostly) satisfied.

It hasn't been all bolognese and chicken satay noodle salad, though.  As I started to get the hang of being a new mom, I did gradually try a few new dishes, and some of them have made their way into the  still predictable rotation, including this unbelievable pot of deliciousness, Deb's tomato sauce with onion and butter.

My dear sister-in-law H pointed me to the sauce, which Deb detailed on a post that I definitely remembered seeing, but passed by because I was a bit turned off by the idea of a halved onion being thrown in with the tomatoes.  I do not know why I had that ridiculous idea, because the onion adds a homey depth to the sauce, a sort of savory counterpart to the pleasantly acidic tang of the tomatoes.  What is so good about this sauce though, the thing that makes it transcendent, is, of course, the butter. Five whole tablespoons of it, almost an entire stick.  It melts into creamy swirls, which you can see in my garishly lit photo, softening and yet somehow brightening the taste of the tomatoes.  I pour scoopfuls over angel hair pasta and sprinkle with just a bit of grated mozzarella, though Deb is right-it probably doesn't need anything extra.

I should probably also mention, just in case it doesn't seem obvious, that this recipe is the EASIEST.  Three ingredients (not counting the pasta), all of which are pretty much pantry/fridge staples.  The sauce is equally delicious the next day, and as tempting to my little guy as to me.  I'm pretty sure it should be in your repertoire too.

barefoot contessa's roasted shrimp with feta

Last week I had an out-of-the-ordinary appointment that required a bit of a wait.  I had not yet eaten that day, and at the office where I sat impatiently, the television was tuned to the Food Network, a special kind of torture for someone as starving and prone to low-blood sugar attacks as myself.  I watched longingly as Ina Garten set about in her typical effortless fashion, making lunch for a friend that was of course enjoyed in an immaculate spring setting off the porch at the Hamptons home, complete with vases bursting with pristine hydrangeas.  Oh, Ina, I love you, but you are a bit predictable.

I've written before about Ina's bewitching presence.  Her voice is sort of low and syrup-y, with no discernible accent, just languid and dreamy.  Nothing ever takes very long in her kitchen, there are always loads of butter and cocktails, and her dinner guests (or darling husband, Jeffrey) find themselves sitting at beautifully set tables, surrounded by sparkling silver and fresh flowers.  Ina has inevitably had the foresight to prepare the dish long in advance, which means she spends all of her time at lunches/dinner parties/picnics/brunches chatting with her friends.  When you watch her, not only are you completely drawn into her presence, you become convinced that you too, can pull off a meal with such grace and aplomb as Ina.  An episode of Barefoot Contessa is a soothing as a cup of nice, steaming tea, and will leave you undoubtedly feeling inspired.  Of course, we can't all be as organized or skillful as Ina, but that thought is far from your mind once you've spent a half hour with her.

Needless to say, when I printed out this recipe yesterday, I wasn't sure if the real reason I wanted to try it was because I was unreasonably hungry the day I watched the episode featuring it, or if I might have just been in an Ina fog.  I like all of the ingredients on their own, enjoy Mediterranean flavors in general, and am certainly a huge fan of roasting my entire meal in one pan.  It wasn't with trepidation that I began the preparation, I just simply worried that it might not be as flavorful or filling as we wanted for our dinner.  I was in a bit of a rush (toddler-induced, of course) and I didn't even follow some of the directions properly (sauced the shrimp with lemon BEFORE putting in the oven, sprinkled the feta on TOP of the breadcrumbs instead of the other way around).

You guys, the final result was stupendous.  So. Incredibly. Delicious.  The delicate flavor of the fennel married perfectly with the tomato, lemon, and parsley to create a base for the shrimp that was mildly spicy, and the briny nature of the shrimp was countered by the salty feta, which, by the way, tasted especially amazing with its nice, toasty brown top.  Of course, the breadcrumbs, accented with threads of lemon zest, gave the entire dish the homey feeling that I love.  I will also admit that it wasn't a particularly fussy production.  The fennel does need to saute for a bit, but you can easily prepare the crumb topping or wash dishes while you're waiting.  The whole thing could definitely be finished in 45 minutes, maybe less if you're super speedy.  I suggest you make it immediately.

bourbon-marinated pork tenderloin

We've had this bourbon for QUITE some time, I promise!

Marinating is a new thing for me.  Too many times I've glanced over recipes requiring a marinade and forgotten them, mostly because I felt that I just couldn't be bothered to knock the ingredients of a marinade together.  The irony of my laziness is that a properly-timed marinade (meaning, one has marinated the food for the amount of time suggested, not a mere half hour before dinner) can be a time-SAVING device, and certainly has the potential to push a meal from ordinary to exceptional.  Yes, you do have to take the time (preferably in the morning) to make the marinade, but after that, your work for what is usually the main course of your dinner is essentially done.  It's true that a fussy marinade loaded down with many ingredients is understandably daunting for a busy mom just trying to get a decent dinner on the table.  There are some great, tasty recipes out there, however, which are really worth the effort.

I started rethinking marinading while reading Dinner A Love Story, a great foodie blog that focuses on having great meals that the family can eat together.  Jenny (and her husband, Andy) not only come up with wonderful recipes, but also have lots of hints on how to save time and work with picky eaters.  I should also tell you that neither of them are particularly judge-y on the occasional meal out.  In fact, when writing about meal planning, Jenny encourages a dinner out or prepared item from Trader Joe's (or from whatever grocery you frequent) at least one night a week, just to make things easier.  

The pork tenderloin recipe from their new cookbook is literally one of the most delicious things I've ever eaten.  We've made it many times, and it is rare to have even a morsel left over.  The marinade is a cinch-takes less than five minutes to make, and everything is neatly put away in a plastic bag.  It helps that we've really been enjoying bourbon this year, so our marinade is made super classy and delicious with the addition of more than decent bourbon. 

Bourbon-Marinated Grilled Pork Tenderloin, adapted from Dinner: A Love Story, by Jenny Rosenstrach

1/4 cup bourbon

1/4 cup soy sauce

2 tablespoons brown sugar

3 tablespoons olive oil

2-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and roughly chopped

1 pork tenderloin (about 1 pound)

In a large zipper-lock bag, combine the bourbon, soy sauce, sugar, oil, and ginger.  Add the pork and marinate for at least 2 hours and up to 4.  When you are ready to grill, remove the tenderloin from the bag, reserving the marinade, and grill it over medium-hot coals for 15-20 minutes, turning every 5 minutes, until the middle is firm but not hard to the touch.  (A meat thermometer should read 140 degrees). Add the marinade to a small saucepan and bring to a boil; boil until it becomes slightly thickened, about 2 minutes.  Slice the pork on a cutting board and transfer to a platter, spooning the sauce over the top.  (Side note: I've never actually followed through with this last step-can you imagine how good it would be?)

Bonus: Check out this post with Jenny's marinading suggestions.  I too, want to marry marinating.

wild rice gratin with kale, caramelized onions, and baby swiss

I've given myself a lot of credit on this blog for being what I'd like to call an "early adopter" of kale.  It certainly didn't hurt that I've just always liked the taste of dark greens, and once I moved to California and was exposed to the piles of Swiss chard, collards, and, of course, kale at weekend farmer's markets, it was easy to start trying different things and become a pro at cooking them well.  Technically, most people that live here have long been familiar with the most popular, super healthy veg on the block.

Over the last few years, I've discovered quite a few kale recipes that I love and prepare regularly.  I've written about baked rigatoni with kale, a big dish of comfort where strips of kale get toasty and brown amidst creamy, cheesy sauce and pasta.  And of course there is sweet potato and kale pizza, so good I could eat it every night and never tire of it.

Well, my friends, there is a new kale recipe in town, and it shot right up to the top of my list of favorites from the moment I read about it, in Deb Perelman's new cookbook, The Smitten Kitchen Cookbook.  Even if it didn't contain kale, wild rice, and Swiss cheese (gruyere for me, please!), the odds of an SK recipe being anything other than delicious would be monumentally low.  Deb never lets me down!

An added benefit for the gratin is that it's perfect for little ones.  I have been, and continue to strive to prepare meals for us as a family instead of making separate meals for my little guy, but there are times when we're craving a deliciously greasy pizza from our favorite local spot, Pizza My Heart, or something else I might deem a bit too rich for him.  On those nights, you'll usually find a sliced avocado with scrambled eggs and toast on his plate.  That's no shabby dinner, mind you, but it feels more warm and wholesome for us to all be eating the same thing.

As you can see from the photo I've included, SK's gratin is a hit in our house.  Little A slurps up the caramelized onions and chopped kale like an old pro, loving every bite.  I will tell you that the inclusion of toasty bread crumbs and the aforementioned cheese certainly pushes the dish from something hearty and healthy to something heavenly and addictive.  Even though he is a great little eater, even my A probably wouldn't devour the dish with such relish minus the cheese and carbs.

Wild Rice Gratin with Kale, Caramelized Onions, and Baby Swiss, adapted from The Smitten Kitchen Cookbook, by Deb Perelman

wild rice:
5 cups cooked wild rice (from 1 2/3 cups uncooked)

caramelized onions:
1 tablespoon butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 large sweet onions, halved and thinly sliced
1/2 teaspoon table salt
Freshly ground black pepper
4 cups stemmed, ribboned kale leaves (from an 8-ounce or 225-gram bundle)

assembly:
2 cups (8 ounces) coarsely grated Emmentaler or another Swiss cheese (I used gruyere)
2 tablespoons unsalted butter (1 tablespoon to grease the dish; 1 tablespoon melted, for crumbs)
3/4 cup chicken or vegetable broth
1 cup fine, dry breadcrumbs
Table salt
Freshly ground black pepper

1. Cook the rice according to package directions (I  used a bag of wild rice from Trader Joe's).  Preheat your oven to 375 degrees.
2. Meanwhile, caramelize the onions.  Heat the butter and olive oil in a large, heavy skillet over medium-low heat.  Add onions, sprinkle with salt and a little pepper, and cook until they're tender and sweet, stirring occasionally, about 30 minutes (Incidentally, the fact that the onions take a while to cook gives you time to chop the kale, grate the cheese, and gather other ingredients).  Add the kale ribbons, and cook until they wilt a bit, about 5 minutes.  Stir together the onion-kale mixture, wild rice, and 1 cup grated cheese in a large bowl.  Season to taste with additional salt and pepper, if needed (I opted out of getting another bowl dirty and instead dumped everything into my baking dish).
3. Assemble the gratin.  Use 1 tablespoon butter to generously coat a 2-quart baking dish.  Spread the wild-rice mixture into prepared gratin and pour broth over it.  Sprinkle remaining cheese over gratin.  Toss breadcrumbs with 1 tablespoon melted butter and salt and pepper to taste; sprinkle over cheese.
4. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, or until a little bubbly and beginning to brown on top.