deviled chicken drumsticks

Some foods are just made for summer. Like these deviled chicken drumsticks. They deserve a spot at your next picnic, barbecue or alfresco fire escape dinner, right next to the giant pitcher of mojitos.

The chicken is perfect fresh out of the oven, when the savory-spicy breadcrumb coating is hot and extra crispy. But it's also a winner eaten at room temperature or even the next day, if you're lucky enough to have leftovers.

Yes, call me a hypocrite. One day I'm telling you to walk away from your stove, the next I am telling you to make these awesome drumsticks. But they only need 30 minutes in the oven, so crank up that AC and get it done. Or at least wait until the temperature isn't in the 90s.

patio salad

It's too damn hot to cook. Our apartment is hovering around 100 degrees as I type this and the heat has not only killed my desire to get in the kitchen, it's killed my appetite. I just want watermelon, and smoothies, and white wine spritzers. Could you serve those things for a dinner party? Probably not.

But I do have a recipe for you, something I made when it was a downright breezy 85 degrees outside. It's a little dish I found on Food52 (from the blog Cooking After Five) called Patio Salad -- doesn't that sound delightful? It's more of a composed dish than a salad. There's a little tangle of salad greens, some white beans and croutons in pesto, and a little bit of salty prosciutto on the side. It is just the thing you'd want to graze on while you sit on a sun-drenched patio with a glass of white wine, wearing a big, floppy hat. Or in my case, in your hot as hell living room.

learning curve

If you ever want to feel completely inept, start a new job. Even if you are the only person in the entire world with the particular skills and talents to do said job, you'll still feel like an awkward, bumbling mess as you try to remember everyone's name, figure out a new routine, and learn the various ins and outs of your new workplace. It's just the way it goes. And eventually, once you get past this rough phase, it becomes old hat. Here's hoping, anyway!

After my first week at my new job, I felt so mentally exhausted that I almost burst into tears at the grocery store when my friendly neighborhood cheesemonger asked me how I was doing. It was so embarrassing, getting teary eyed next to the olive bar. "You can do it," he said. "I believe in you."

Fortified by his unwavering confidence in me, I continued my shopping. There was lunch to be made for friends the next day and anyway, if the cheese guy thinks I can handle it, I probably should believe in myself, right?

taco night

If you're throwing a dinner party--especially during the warmer months of the year--and don't know what to serve, your safest bet is tacos. This hasn't been scientifically proven or anything, but it's basically fact. Vegetarian friend? Tacos. Friend on a diet? Tacos. Die-hard carnivore? Tacos. Gluten-free? Tacos. 

The key is to make more than one kind of taco (something with meat and something veggie-friendly) and have enough toppings for people to choose from so that everyone can customize their dinner to suit their own individual needs and tastes. Usually, I put out a few types of salsa and always, always guacamole. But this time around, I kept things pretty simple with chipotle crema and a mango-avocado slaw that could double as a taco topping or side dish.

p.s.

I should mention that the enchilada recipe yields a ton of sauce. Which is delicious spooned over eggs and tortillas the next morning. Just sayin'.

everyday dinners: pizza with mushrooms, parsley, and pecorino

Pizza is a divisive topic. Everyone has their own idea of what makes a good slice. While I love the typical tomato sauce-mozzarella-basil incarnation, I usually forgo all three of these things when making pizza at home. Well, usually not the basil. 

During the cooler months of the year when I can stand turning on the oven, Dan and I eat pizza about once a week. It's cheap to make, relatively healthy, and gives us enough leftovers for a really nice lunch the next day. The weather finally turned here, so thankfully, we're back to pizza season.

Dan's not a huge fan of tomato sauce on pizza (crazy, I know), which led me to figure out some recipes that can hold up without. Sometimes we spread a thin layer of ricotta over the crust, sometimes we caramelize onions, or sometimes, I just scatter the toppings over an olive oil-slicked crust, flatbread-style.

This is one of those types of pizzas: thin crust, sauteed mushrooms, a layer of cheese, and a hefty dose of chopped parsley. To keep it from being bland, I cook the mushrooms in red pepper flakes, garlic, and thyme, and add a squeeze of lemon at the end. Trust me, you won't miss the sauce.

I made this recipe with pecorino but any cheese will do: dollops of soft goat's cheese, flakes of parmesan, or some grated ricotta salata. Even regular old mozzarella will work for you pizza purists.

Pizza with mushrooms, parsley, and pecorino

Dough recipe adapted from Louise Pickford's book Grilling.
(Serves 2 to 4 people)

For the pizza dough:
1 1/2 cups flour, plus extra for dusting
1 1/2 tsp. active dry yeast
1 tsp. salt
1/2 cup hot water
2 Tbsp. olive oil

For the topping:

Olive oil

1 clove garlic, minced

1 1/2 cups baby portobello mushrooms, cleaned and sliced

1 cup oyster mushrooms, cleaned and torn into bite-sized pieces

Leaves from 3 sprigs of fresh thyme (or 1 tsp. dried thyme)

Red pepper flakes, to taste (I like 1/2 tsp.)

1/2 lemon, juiced

salt and pepper to taste

1 cup pecorino cheese, grated

1/2 cup parsley, roughly chopped

To make the pizza dough: sift the flour into a large bowl and stir in the yeast and salt. Make a well in the center of the flour, then add the hot water and olive oil. Stir with a spoon until it has formed a soft dough. Knead the dough with floured hands, pressing it against the bowl until it is smooth and elastic. Shape it into a ball and cover the bowl with a dish towel. Let it rise in a warm place for 45 minutes to an hour, or until it has doubled in size. (You can also make it the night before and store it in the fridge, wrapped in plastic or stored in a large plastic Ziploc bag.)

To assemble the pizza: preheat your oven to 500 degrees. In a large saute pan over medium heat, add a few tablespoons of olive oil to the pan, along with the garlic. Cook the garlic for a minute, then add the mushrooms, red pepper flakes, and thyme. Saute the mushrooms until they are tender. Add the lemon juice and salt and pepper to taste, I like a generous pinch of each. Remove the mushrooms from the heat and set them aside. 

Use your hands or a rolling pin to roll out the pizza on a floured surface so that it's about 1/2 inch thin. Place the rolled-out dough on a pizza stone or cookie sheet lined with parchment paper or foil. Drizzle a few teaspoons of olive oil over the pizza dough and use your hands to coat the dough evenly. Top with the mushrooms and evenly spread the grated cheese on top. Bake for about 10 to 15 minutes, or until the pizza is golden brown and bubbling. Sprinkle with parsley and serve hot.

everyday dinners: tomato sauce with onion and butter

A friend wrote me last week looking for weeknight-friendly vegetarian meal ideas. She wanted dishes that were simple, relatively healthy, and easy to make after a long day at work.

Don't we all? Although the recipes posted on this site might not reflect this, Dan and I tend to eat very simply when it's just the two of us. (And you've got to give your arteries a break from all that fried chicken and pimento cheese, right?) So for the next two weeks, I'll be sharing my favorite everyday dinners with you. These dishes might not be your typical idea of company-worthy fare, but I think they're good enough for a casual dinner with friends--the kind of meal where everyone grabs a plate and a fork and gathers around the table. Or those nights when you're feeling drained from work but want to eat something more soul-soothing than take out. 

And if you do want to turn these dishes into a proper three or four-course dinner party menu, there are menu suggestions beneath the recipes.

First up: tomato sauce with onion and butter. Or "miracle sauce," as I think of it. There are only three ingredients in this sauce; four, if you count salt. You just simmer an onion in a pot of good-quality canned tomatoes, add a few pats of butter, and voila. The onion infuses the sauce with its savory goodness, the butter adds richness. It's dead simple yet has such robust flavor you'd swear there was something sneaky and expensive in there. Spoon it over a tangle of spaghetti or a bowl of tortolini and shave some parmesan on top. Heaven. 

There is one extra teeny tiny step I highly recommend. The recipe, by Marcella Hazan, instructs you to throw away the onion once it is done simmering in the sauce. But I like to puree the onion in a food processor, then add it back in. It gives the sauce a little extra flavor and body. And why waste a perfectly good onion?
 
Tomato sauce with onion and butter
Adapted from Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking by Marcella Hazan (via Orangette) I find that Italian plum tomatoes, such as San Marzano, are best for this recipe. If you are worried about BPA in metal cans, Pomi makes boxed tomatoes that are decent. I've also made this sauce with a little basil, which is especially nice in the summertime.
(Makes about 4 servings, or enough for one pound of pasta)

1 28 oz. can whole, peeled, canned plum tomatoes, chopped, with their juices
5 Tbsp. unsalted butter
1 medium yellow onion, peeled and cut in half
Salt, to taste
A few leaves of basil (optional)

Combine the tomatoes, their juices, the butter, and the onion halves in a medium saucepan. Add a pinch or two of salt. Place over medium heat and bring to a simmer. Cook, uncovered, at a very slow but steady simmer, adjusting the heat as necessary, for about 45 minutes, or until droplets of fat float free from the tomato. Stir occasionally, mashing any large pieces of tomato with the back of a wooden spoon. Taste and salt as needed. Discard the onion before tossing the sauce with hot, cooked pasta, or puree the onion in a food processor (with a few spoonfuls of sauce), then add it back into the sauce, along with the basil leaves, if using. Stir until combined.

Menu suggestion:
Hors d'oeuvres: stuffed mushrooms or lamb meatballs
First course: butter lettuce with oranges, fennel, and olives or arugula with endive, pears, fennel, and hazelnuts
Main course: pasta with tomato sauce with onion and butter
Dessert: Chocolate pear cake or cappuccino-chocolate bites

fried chicken friday

For some reason, I got a serious hankering for fried chicken last week. It's not the kind of thing I make at home very often, probably because it's a lot of effort for just Dan and me. If you're going to go to the trouble to fry chicken, you might as well do a whole bird, and then that's quite a bit of chicken for two people to eat. Dan would probably disagree with this, but still.

The craving persisted so I invited some friends over to make a Friday night of it. Now, which recipe to choose? Choosing a recipe for fried chicken is like choosing a recipe for chocolate cake. Thomas Keller, the chef behind fine dining establishments The French Laundry and Per Se, is well-known for the fried chicken he serves at Ad Hoc, his more casual place. It is so beloved that he now sells fried chicken kits at Williams-Sonoma for $14.95. (Cough! Ripoff! Cough!)

For the more budget-conscious, the actual recipe is on Food & Wine's website, and you can make your own mix out of things you probably already have in your pantry: garlic and onion powder, cayenne, salt, pepper, and regular old flour. The real secret to this chicken is that it is brined overnight in an aromatic bath of lemons, peppercorns, garlic, honey, bay leaves, and fresh rosemary, parsley, and thyme sprigs. Again, most stuff you've probably got on hand. The rest is pretty straightforward: brine, dip in buttermilk, dredge in flour, then fry to crispy gold perfection.

Fry up some herb sprigs and strew them on top of the chicken, which you have decoratively mounded on a platter. Place the platter in the middle of the table and watch everyone's eyes get a little big as they take a seat. Drink some cold beer, put some Springsteen on the stereo. Eat fried chicken. That's pretty much the best way to spend a Friday night in my book. 

Friday night chicken dinner

Pimento cheese toasts

Lemon-brined fried chicken

Mixed bean salad

Corn with thyme and butter

Peach and blueberry cobbler a la mode

Lemon-brined fried chicken

From Thomas Keller via F&W. For four to six people, you can easily cut this recipe in half.
(Serves 8 to 10 people)

1 gallon cold water
1 cup plus 2 teaspoons kosher salt
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons honey
12 bay leaves
1 head of garlic, smashed but not peeled
2 Tbsp. black peppercorns
3 large rosemary sprigs
1 small bunch of thyme
1 small bunch of parsley
Finely grated zest and juice of 2 lemons
Two 3-pound chickens
3 cups all-purpose flour
2 Tbsp. garlic powder
2 Tbsp. onion powder
2 tsp. cayenne pepper
2 cups buttermilk
Vegetable oil, for frying
Rosemary and thyme sprigs, for garnish 

In a very large pot, combine 1 quart of the water with 1 cup of the salt and the honey, bay leaves, garlic, peppercorns, rosemary, thyme and parsley. Add the lemon zest and juice and the lemon halves and bring to a simmer over moderate heat, stirring until the salt is dissolved. Let cool completely, then stir in the remaining 3 quarts of cold water. Add the chickens, being sure they're completely submerged, and refrigerate overnight. 

Drain the chickens and pat dry. Scrape off any herbs or peppercorns stuck to the skin and cut each bird into 8 pieces, keeping the breast meat on the bone. 

In a large bowl, combine the flour, garlic powder, onion powder, cayenne and the remaining 2 teaspoons of salt. Put the buttermilk in a large, shallow bowl. Working with a few pieces at a time, dip the chicken in the buttermilk, then dredge in the flour mixture, pressing so it adheres all over. Transfer the chicken to a baking sheet lined with wax paper (or foil). 

In a very large, deep skillet, heat 1 inch of vegetable oil to 330 degrees. Fry the chicken in 2 or 3 batches over moderate heat, turning once, until golden and crunchy and an instant-read thermometer inserted in the thickest part of each piece registers 160 degrees, about 20 minutes. Transfer the chicken to paper towels to drain, and keep warm in a low oven while you fry the remaining chicken pieces. Transfer the fried chicken to a platter, garnish with the herb sprigs and serve hot or at room temperature.

tomato risotto

I love tomato season and I usually get a little greedy at the farmers' market. It's hard to stop grabbing up all the various sizes and colors and shapes, each one with its own little personality. But then you end up with a pile of overripe tomatoes on your hands. Or maybe you have a garden and this happens every summer. 

If you find yourself in this situation, you need to make tomato risotto. Actually, tomato risotto is so good you probably should just go and buy a bunch of tomatoes to put yourself in this situation.

I know, I've said bad things about making risotto for dinner parties on this blog before. It takes too long to make. All that stirring keeps you away from your friends. It will make you sweat. But if you have an open kitchen where everyone can gather while you are cooking, or if you can enlist a friend or two to help you stir and drink wine, it's not a bad way to go at all. Central air conditioning helps too. This recipe is so good, I will gladly confine myself in the kitchen and sweat it out.

 The recipe, from Andrew Carmellini's Urban Italian, requires a few steps, like most chef-created recipes. It calls for a lot of tomatoes, which can be expensive, but if you can score some less-than-perfect ones from the farmers' market on a discount, they will do nicely.

 First, you roast beefsteaks and garlic in the oven until they are soft and fragrant. Then you make the risotto, with all the usual suspects: stock, butter, Arborio rice, wine, an onion. The roasted tomatoes get folded into the mix, along with parmesan, and, if you're feeling decadent, some marscarpone cheese. The whole thing is topped with a garnish of halved cherry tomatoes, and I like to add a bit of basil as well.

When ripe, tomatoes are one of those things that are pretty much perfect as-is. There is nothing quite like eating a slice of a mid-summer heirloom with a sprinkle of salt, juice dripping down your chin. This risotto is the next best thing.

Tomato risotto

Adapted from Urban Italian

(serves 4 to 6 people)

For the baked tomatoes:
1 lb. tomatoes (8 small beefsteaks)

1/4 tsp. salt and pepper

1 tsp. thyme leaves

1 tsp. rosemary

1 clove garlic, thinly sliced

For the tomato topping:

2 cups halved cherry tomatoes

2 Tbsp. olive oil

pinch of salt

For the rice:

5 cups chicken stock (or vegetable stock, or water, or a combination)

1 Tbsp. butter

1/4 olive oil

1 small onion, chopped (about 1/2 cup)

1/4 tsp. red pepper flakes

2 cups Arborio rice

1/2 cup dry white wine

To finish the dish:

2 Tbsp. marscarpone cheese (optional)

1/4 cup grated parmesan cheese, plus more for sprinkling

1 Tbsp. chopped rosemary

1 1/2 tsp. salt, or to taste

1/2 tsp. black pepper

1 handful basil, julienned (optional)

To make the baked tomatoes:

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees. Cut the beefsteak tomatoes in half and lay them face up on a sheet pan. Sprinkle them with salt, pepper, thyme, and rosemary. Lay a slice or two of garlic on top. Bake uncovered until they are a bit grilled-looking and soft, about 1 hour. (You can do this way in advance.) Remove the tomatoes from the oven and let them cool to room temperature. Chop them roughly and reserve them and the juices in a bowl.

To make the tomato topping:

Carmellini suggests cooking the cherry tomatoes in olive oil in a small pot over low heat for about 20 minutes, creating a chunky sauce. I like serving them raw, sliced in half and tossed in the olive oil and salt. Either way works.

To make the rice:

Put the stock or water on to boil. Melt the butter and olive oil together over high heat in a large pot or skillet. Add the onions and sweat them until they are soft, about 2 minutes, stirring to keep them from browning. Add the red pepper flakes and stir to combine. Add the rice and mix well so the grains are coated, about 1 minute. Add the wine and continue cooking, stirring constantly to ensure that the rice does not stick, until the wine has been completely absorbed and the rice is soft but not sticky, about 1 minute. Add 3 cups of the hot stock (or water) and the chopped baked tomatoes with their juices. Continue cooking, stirring occasionally, until the rice is al dente, just beginning to cook through and the stock has evaporated, about 7 minutes. Add the remaining 2 cups of stock and continue to cook, stirring well and often, until the rice has absorbed most of the liquid and become a thick, liquidy stew, another 7 or 8 minutes or so.

To finish the dish, remove the risotto from the heat. Add the marscarpone, if using, parmesan, rosemary, salt, and pepper. Mix well, so the risotto becomes rich and well combined. If the risotto is too thick for your taste, add a little leftover stock or water. 

Serve in bowls with the tomato topping, extra parmesan, and basil.

summer supper on the fly

On Thursday night, I got a voicemail from my friend Anne saying that she and her fiance Colin were going to be in our neighborhood tomorrow night, and would I want to cook dinner for everyone, and please don't fuss and only use what you have in your fridge. Hmm.

Before you accuse Anne of being a pushy dinner guest, you should know that I extended an open-ended dinner party invitation to them a few weeks ago. We have the cozy sort of friendship where you can just add another box of pasta to the pot, or throw another steak on the grill.

She also proposed that we all go out for dinner, but you know I wasn't going to do that.

As for only using what we had in the fridge, I wasn't about to serve them eggs and coleslaw mix. Instead, I would make what Dan and I would eat on a normal Friday night and jazz it up with a few extras.

There is a chicken recipe in the latest issue of Bon Appetit that I've become hooked on. In one pan, you saute chicken breasts with shallots, then remove them and add green beans, butter, and lots of lemon juice to make a surprisingly complex sauce. I also like adding cherry tomatoes to the mix for extra color and flavor. The first few times I made this recipe, Dan kept asking, "What is in this? It's so good." Nothing special is in it at all--it's magically delicious.

Served up with a side of couscous, some pre-dinner snacks, and plenty of Brooklyn Brewery summer ale, this was a perfect Friday night supper. So good that everyone happily sweated through each course, dabbing at their foreheads with paper napkins, talking and laughing well into the night.

Summer supper

Deviled eggs

Peach, goat cheese, and basil crostinis

Chicken with green beans, tomatoes, and lemon butter

Couscous

Framboise ice cream floats

Chicken with green beans, tomatoes, and lemon butter
A tweaked version of this recipe from Bon Appetit.
(Serves 4 people)

4 boneless chicken breast halves (with or without skin)
All purpose flour
2 Tbsp. olive oil
8 shallots, peeled, chopped roughly (or 1 medium red onion, chopped roughly)
2 Tbsp. (1/4 stick) butter
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
1 1/2 tsp. finely grated lemon zest
1 lb. green beans, trimmed (or haricots verts)
1 pint cherry or grape tomatoes
2 Tbsp. minced chives (or parsley)

Sprinkle chicken with salt and pepper; lightly dust with flour to coat. Heat oil in large skillet over medium heat. Add chicken and shallots; sauté until chicken is golden and just cooked through, about 5 minutes per side. Transfer chicken to plate.

Melt butter in skillet with shallots over medium heat. Add lemon juice and lemon peel, then green beans and tomatoes; toss. Cover and cook until beans are crisp-tender and shallots are cooked through, about 3 minutes. Return chicken and any juices to skillet; sprinkle with chives. Simmer until sauce thickens enough to coat, about 2 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Transfer chicken and vegetables to platter, drizzle the sauce, and serve.

dinner for one

What do you eat when you're alone? Cheese and a handful of crackers, straight from the box? Indian take-out from the place around the corner? A can of soup? Or maybe you set a plate at the table for yourself with a napkin, fork, and knife and eat a proper meal. A cheese omelet with salad on the side, a single pork chop, a bowl of spaghetti with homemade tomato sauce. Maybe some dessert if you've been good that day.

I fall into the former category. I like feeding other people, hence this whole dinner party blog thing. When I'm alone, I tend to make things like fried eggs, bowls of cereal...and fried eggs. For some reason, cooking for myself doesn't excite me. When I was single, I went through a gross phase where I ate quesadillas for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I eventually threw away the bag of tortillas just to break the cycle. Thankfully, solo dining isn't an issue for me anymore. I always have someone to come home to and have dinner with, which is one of the best things about being married.

But Dan was out of town last weekend, leaving me to feed me, myself, and I. There was this guy too, but he's on a strict all-kibble regimen.
I won't lie. I ate a quesadilla. Okay, two or three quesadillas. I made them with pepper jack cheese, sauteed onions, and roasted butternut squash and they were delicious. And then I felt a little ill. Flashbacks, I guess.

Why do I spend so much time and effort making food for other people, only to slap together the most basic, mindless meals for myself? I love to eat and I actually really enjoy being alone (no offense, Dan) but for me, food is best enjoyed in the company of others. I think about special meals eaten with my friends and family almost every day. Those single-girl quesadillas, hurriedly wolfed down after work? Not so much. But maybe there's hidden pleasure in eating alone, eating whatever you want. You can eat stinky food, messy food, dishes that other people don't like, drink all the wine, sit on the floor in your pajamas (although I do that all the time).

I resolved to do better, to eat better. And so I made a dinner fit for watching the Oscars by myself. In my pajamas. I thought about what I would make for my usual Sunday night suppers--roast chicken and vegetables, a hearty soup or stew, a big chopped salad. The thought of buying one chicken breast kind of made me sad, so I went for something different, a recipe I've had bookmarked for awhile: roasted broccoli with shrimp.

Yes, I've waxed on about roasting's power to transform vegetables, especially broccoli. It really is the best way to cook it in my book. But this recipe added shrimp to the mix. And chili powder, and cumin, and a hefty dose of lemon. It was roasted broccoli times a thousand. I ate it with a side of steamed white rice and a significant amount of white wine. It was delightful. Although washing all the dishes by myself sort of sucked.

Roasted broccoli with shrimp
By Melissa Clark via the New York Times. I divided the recipe in half to feel little old me.
(serves 2 to 4 people)

2 lbs. broccoli, cut into bite-size florets
4 Tbsp. (1/4 cup) extra virgin olive oil
1 tsp. whole coriander seeds (or 1/2 teaspoon ground)
1 tsp. whole cumin seeds (or 1/2 teaspoon ground)
1 1/2 tsp. kosher salt
1 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
1/8 tsp. hot chili powder
1 lb. large shrimp, shelled and de-veined
1 1/4 tsp. lemon zest (from 1 large lemon)
Lemon wedges, for serving

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. In a large bowl, toss broccoli with 2 tablespoons oil, coriander, cumin, 1 teaspoon salt, 1/2 teaspoon pepper and chili powder. In a separate bowl, combine shrimp, remaining 2 tablespoons oil, lemon zest, remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt and remaining 1/2 teaspoon pepper. Spread broccoli in a single layer on a baking sheet. Roast for 10 minutes. Add shrimp to baking sheet and toss with broccoli. Roast, tossing once halfway through, until shrimp are just opaque and broccoli is tender and golden around edges, about 10 minutes more. Serve with lemon wedges, or squeeze lemon juice all over shrimp and broccoli just before serving.

omg fried rice

Fried rice isn't something I usually order in restaurants or give much thought to in general. It's just not my bag. Which is why I was a little surprised that Mark Bittman's recipe for ginger fried rice called out to me so much when I saw it in the Times dining section the other week. In the photo, the rice was topped with a fried egg, something I love, and crunchy brown bits, something else I also happen to love. I needed to know what those tiny bits were made of--somehow that was more interesting to me than the rice--so I printed out the recipe and decided to give it a try.

The ingredient list was simple enough for a quick weeknight dinner: jasmine rice, an egg, some chopped leeks, garlic, and ginger, some pantry staples like oil and soy sauce. It almost seems too simple, right? Mark Bittman calls the recipe, adapted from chef Jean-Georges Vongerichten, a "chef's recipe," meaning that there are a few steps involved in transforming these basic items into something surprisingly decadent.

So I chopped the ginger and garlic into tiny bits, and sauteed them in oil until golden and aromatic. Drained on a paper towel and sprinkled with a pinch of salt, I could almost eat the garnish on its own, it was so good.

I sliced two leeks into thin pale green and white slivers, and tossed them in the pan, cooking them until they softened. Next, I stirred in the rice (cooked the night before--it must be made in advance to prevent it from going mushy), combining it with the leeks. I fried an egg in a pat of butter, salted the rice, plated it in a bowl, and drizzled it with sesame oil and soy sauce. I slid the egg on top of the rice, and sprinkled the whole thing with the fried garlic and ginger.

And I took a bite and swooned. The leeks gave the rice body and a savory, oniony flavor, the egg yolk added richness, and the crunchy topping put the whole dish over the edge. This simple dinner was way more than the sum of its parts. You can eat it by yourself on the couch with a beer, or you could serve this as part of the most elegant dinner party, maybe with some roasted broccoli or sauteed bok choy on the side.

I first tried this recipe when Dan was out for the night having dinner with some friends. Usually when he gets home, one of the first things I ask about is what he ate. This time, I didn't even bother. I practically danced around the room, bragging about how good the fried rice was. Like, OMG good. The next day, we ate the leftovers and he agreed. Or rather, he scraped his bowl clean and immediately headed into the kitchen to sniff around for leftovers.

Ginger fried rice
From The New York Times. I only made one tweak to this dish: drizzling the soy sauce and sesame oil over the rice, not the egg. I think it looks nicer.
(Serves 4 people)

1/2 cup peanut oil (or canola)
2 Tbsp. minced garlic
2 Tbsp. minced ginger
salt
2 cups thinly sliced leeks, white and light green parts only, rinsed and dried
4 cups day-old cooked rice, preferably jasmine, at room temperature
4 large eggs (mine were double-yolk!)
2 tsp. sesame oil
4 tsp. soy sauce.

In a large skillet, heat 1/4 cup oil over medium heat. Add garlic and ginger and cook, stirring occasionally, until crisp and brown. With a slotted spoon, transfer to paper towels and salt lightly. Reduce heat under skillet to medium-low and add 2 tablespoons oil and leeks. Cook about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until very tender but not browned. Season lightly with salt. Raise heat to medium and add rice. Cook, stirring well, until heated through. Season to taste with salt. In a nonstick skillet, fry eggs in remaining oil (or a pat of butter), sunny-side-up, until edges are set but yolk is still runny. Divide rice among four dishes. Drizzle each dish with 1/2 teaspoon sesame oil and 1 teaspoon soy sauce. Top each with an egg and sprinkle crisped garlic and ginger over everything and serve.

in defense of casseroles

Some people think that dinner parties have to be fancy, formal affairs. You know, candelabras, tuxedoed waiters, lobster bisque, and baked Alaska for dessert. In my book, dinner parties include barbecues in the backyard, pizza nights, church potlucks, picnics at the beach, sandwiches shared among friends. If a group of people is gathered around a table for dinner, it counts. Sometimes I may even serve said people a casserole...made with leftovers.

Last week, our friend Tom was in town for work, so we hosted a small gathering of his friends at our place for dinner. It was a Sunday night, the group was primarily (loud, obnoxious) guys, and I had almost half a turkey in the fridge left over from Thanksgiving. Turkey Tetrazzini seemed like the perfect plan. I crossed my fingers that no one would be sick of eating turkey.

Casseroles get a bad rap for everyday, weeknight eating, let alone for company. How can you not think of gluey canned soups, frozen vegetables in unnatural shapes, and canned fried onions (which I secretly like)? It's not exactly something people ooh and ahh over. But when you make a good old fashioned casserole from scratch it's a different animal entirely.

Working from a Joy of Cooking recipe, I started by making something called "creamed turkey." Yum yum! Basically, this is your Campbell's subsitute: shredded turkey in a thick, creamy roux made with stock, butter, flour, cream, and a drop of sherry. This mixture is tossed with egg noodles, sauteed mushrooms, parmesan and more butter, then baked in the oven until golden and bubbly. The recipe also calls for sliced almonds, but that sounded awfully strange to me, so I added breadcrumb topping instead. I also tossed in a handful of chopped parsley to add a bright, fresh touch.

Served up with mustardy French green beans and roasted cauliflower, everyone really did ooh and ahh and then scraped their plates clean. Not only are casseroles the type of homey food people appreciate, they're ideal for dinner parties because they can be made ahead. And according to The Joy of Cooking, Turkey Tetrazzini was originally created by legendary French chef Auguste Escoffier in honor of an opera star named Luisa Tetrazzini. So who says casseroles aren't fancy?


Sunday supper for Tom
Deviled eggs
Turkey Tetrazzini
French bean salad
Roasted cauliflower
Pound cake

Turkey Tetrazzini
(Serves 8 to 10 people)
4 cups diced turkey (white and dark meat)
1/3 cup flour
2 cups turkey or chicken stock
1 1/2 cups heavy cream, light cream, or whole milk
2 to 3 Tbsp. sherry
1 Tbsp. lemon juice
2 pinches of gorund nutmeg
8 oz. mushrooms, washed and sliced thinly (about 2 1/2 cups)
1/2 cup parsley, minced
5 1/2 Tbsp. butter
8 oz. egg noodles
1 cup breadcrumbs
1/2 cup parmesan cheese
Olive oil
salt and pepper

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees. Butter a 13 by 9-inch baking pan or baking dish.

To make the creamed turkey, melt 4 Tbsp. butter in a large saucepan over medium-low heat. Whisk in the flour until it is smooth. Continue whisking for 1 minute, remove the pan from the heat and add the stock. Whisk until smooth. Whisk in the cream or milk. Bring the heat up to medium and return the pan to the stove, whisking constantly to get rid of any lumps. Bring to a simmer and cook for one minute. Add in the turkey and the sherry. Stir to combine. Cook for one minute more, then add the lemon juice, and nutmeg. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

In a medium skillet, heat 1 1/2 Tbsp. of butter until melted, then add the mushrooms. Cook, while stirring, for about 5 minutes. Stir the mushrooms into the creamed chicken. In a large pot of boiling water, cook the noodles until they are tender. Drain the pasta and stir it into the chicken mixture with the parsley. Add salt and pepper to taste. Pour into the pan. In a small bowl, combine the parmesan and the breadcrumbs. Drizzle with olive oil and stir so the breadcrumbs are moist. Sprinkle them over the casserole and bake for 25 to 35 minutes, or until it is golden brown and bubbly.


French bean salad
I love this recipe, from Jamie Oliver, so much. It's the best way to eat green beans, which can be kind of boring.
(Serves 4 to 6 people)
4 handfuls of French beans, stalk ends removed
2 to 3 heaped tsp. good French mustard, to taste
2 Tbsp. good-quality white wine vinegar
7 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 medium shallot, peeled and finely chopped
optional: 1 Tbsp. capers
optional: ½ a clove of garlic, finely grated

Bring a pan of water to a boil. Add your beans, put a lid on the pan, and cook for at least 4 to 5 minutes. Meanwhile, put the mustard and vinegar into a bowl and whisk it together, then slowly whisk in the olive oil. Season with salt and pepper and add the shallot and capers and garlic, if using. When the beans are cooked, but still firm, drain the water and put the beans back in the pot. Pour the dressing over the hot beans. Serve immediately.

southern comfort

I love Southern food. Barbecue, collard greens, fried chicken, fruit pies, shrimp and grits--I love it all. So why don't I make this kind of stuff more often? That's a good question. Southern fare is perfect for dinner parties; it's homey, comforting, happy-making food.

I've made all sorts of dishes for dinner parties--risottos, roasted pork loin, short ribs--but there's a certain level of excitement when you tell people they'll be eating macaroni and cheese. And the perfect time to indulge in some mac and cheese is when you have a few other people to help you eat it.

A few Saturdays ago, our friends Colin, Anne, and Chris joined us for dinner. I debated a lot over which direction to take this meal. I considered making fried chicken, but worried it would be too messy. Chicken-fried steak? No. Some sort of homey casserole? Nah. And then I thought about macaroni and cheese, something I could cook while everyone ate some appetizers, something I hardly ever make. And then the rest of the meal fell in place. Sauteed kale and black eyed peas with bacon would provide a nice vegetable counterpart to the cheesy pasta. A simple tomato salad would also be a nice seasonal side. We'd have deviled eggs to start and a fried chicken liver crostini I'd had my eye on for awhile.

And you know what? This menu was really, really good. It was filling, but not a total gut bomb. It was highly caloric, but the cheese and fried livers and eggs were slightly countered with fresh vegetables. In my mind, successful meals are all about harmony and balance.

Sure, this isn't something I'd make every night--my cholesterol is already high enough. But if you're looking for an inexpensive menu that will definitely make everyone full and happy, break out the mac and cheese. And bacon. And uh, deviled eggs.

Between his new album and amazing 9-11 concert, Dan and I have been on a Jay-Z kick lately. So we all listened to some Hova as we ate, which led to a discussion about rap music, and homophobia and misogyny in the music industry. Let me tell you, Kanye West is a polarizing figure, even before his latest kerfuffle at the VMAs. All serious stuff, until I threw a diamond sign during "Death of Autotune" and knocked over my plate, macaroni bits scattering all over the rug. It was the sort of slow-motion spill that stopped conversation and held everyone's attention for what felt like minutes.

And then we laughed and had more beers and lemon bars. Knocking food on the floor always seems to lighten the mood.

Southern supper for five
Deviled eggs
Fried chicken livers with pepper jelly on toast
Macaroni and cheese
Kale and black eyed peas with bacon
Tomato salad
Lemon bars

Easy baked macaroni and cheese
From The New York Times, via Smitten Kitchen. I followed this recipe pretty closely, save for replacing a cup of milk with a cup of buttermilk, just because I had some on hand. It was pretty subtle, but I think it added a little extra tang and richness. This recipe really was easy, as promised.
(Serves 6 to 8)

2 Tbsp. butter
1 cup cottage cheese (not low fat)
2 cups whole or 2 % milk (or, 1 cup milk, 1 cup buttermilk)
1 tsp. dry mustard
Pinch cayenne
Pinch freshly grated nutmeg
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. black pepper
1 lb. sharp or extra-sharp cheddar cheese, grated
1/2 lb. elbow pasta, uncooked.

Heat oven to 375 degrees and position an oven rack in upper third of oven. Use one tablespoon butter to grease a 9-inch round or square baking pan.

In a blender, purée cottage cheese, 1 cup milk, mustard, cayenne, nutmeg and salt and pepper together until smooth. Add in the second cup of milk (or buttermilk) and blend until combined. Reserve 1/4 cup grated cheese for topping. In a large bowl, combine remaining grated cheese, milk mixture and uncooked pasta. Pour into prepared pan, cover tightly with foil and bake 30 minutes.

Uncover pan, stir gently, sprinkle with reserved cheese and dot with remaining tablespoon butter. Bake, uncovered, 30 minutes more, until browned. Let cool at least 15 minutes before serving.

Kale and black eyed peas with bacon
If you don't like kale, you could use any leafy green like chard, or of course, collards. You could also omit the bacon, but it lends a nice smokiness (as well as a nice porkiness).
(serves 6 to 8)

3 Tbsp. olive oil
1 onion, sliced thinly
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 jalapeno, minced
6 strips bacon, cut into small pieces (about 1/4-inch)
2 large heads of kale, washed and leaves removed from the stems
1 cup of water
2 Tbsp. red wine vinegar
1 can black eyed peas, drained and rinsed
salt and pepper to taste

In a large stockpot, heat your oil over medium-high heat until it starts to shimmer. Add the onion and saute until it softens, but before it turns brown. Add the garlic and jalapeno, and saute for a minute more. Add the bacon and saute until it browns. Add the kale and the water, stirring as much as possible to incorporate. Reduce the heat to medium-low and cover the pot, stirring occasionally to help the kale wilt. After the kale is wilted and cooked down, add the vinegar and the beans. Keep cooking on low heat until the kale is tender, about 10 to 15 minutes more. Add salt and pepper to taste and more vinegar if needed.

springing forward

Several years ago, when I was an intern at Southern Living, the magazine's garden editor said, "Spring's about to explode any day now." It was the end of March and the seasons hadn't quite changed yet in Alabama. Being a life-long Floridian (winter who?), I had never experienced spring before, and I thought that was a strange choice of words for something I imagined to be so soft, so delicate, so light. But he was right. Spring does explode. After months and months of bare branches—wham!—the trees are suddenly covered with yellow-green leaves and little blossoms that fall like confetti all over the sidewalk. First comes the shockingly yellow forsythia, then tiny little snowdrops, Easter egg-colored crocuses, then daffodils, tulips, hyacinth, and my favorite, cherry blossoms. Now that I've lived through several New York springs, I know how the colors and aromas (and pollen, unfortunately) can be a whack to your senses after winter's bleak cold. The garden editor was spot-on, as he was with everything else nature-related, and I always think of him this time of year.

Spring officially began on Friday, but you wouldn't know it here. It's still kind of grey and chilly and drab outside. (These photos are from last year.) Little green things are just starting to push out of the soil--yesterday I saw a sunny patch of daffodils and almost cried--and tree branches are still dotted with hard, knobby buds. I know change isn't far off, but it feels like spring is really dragging its heels. I have a theory that the dismal state of the economy has made this winter feel even longer and more treacherous. Obviously the return of spring won't help my unemployed friends find jobs or get the stock market to stabilize, but there's something sightly helpful about it mentally. I'd like the illusion of turning a new leaf, at least.

So I'm taking matters into my own hands and moving on. No more roasted vegetables, no more puffy coat. See ya, electric blanket. Last weekend, I wore my lightest jacket (I was a little cold, but whatever) and went to the grocery store, where I grabbed a bunch of skinny, bright green asparagus, radishes, fragrant chives, and some ruby red rhubarb, the first I've seen since last summer. What I made with these ingredients was nothing complicated or especially special, but dinner tasted so good and fresh. It is exactly what I want to eat right now. Hello, spring.

Tuna, asparagus, and new potato salad with chive vinaigrette and fried capers
Do you notice anything missing in the photo? Tuna, perhaps? I was so absorbed in chopping and blanching the veggies that I completely forgot to add the tuna. But this salad (from Bon Appetit's March issue) is so good, I didn't even realize it was missing until I brought our dirty dishes back into the kitchen and noticed the unopened can of tuna sitting there on the counter. D'oh! There's so many delicious little things going on in this salad we didn't even miss it, although the tuna does make it a more substantial meal. Which might keep you from doubling up on dessert. Not that we did that.

A few notes: I love BA, but sometimes its instructions can be a little wonky. I simplified the vegetable and egg cooking process by just keeping one pot of water boiling on the stove, to which I added and removed ingredients. I also dressed the veggies and lettuce in one bowl; so much easier than doing everything separately.
(Serves 4)

For the vinaigrette:
1/3 cup chopped fresh chives
1/4 cup Champagne vinegar (I used white wine vinegar)
1 small shallot, coarsely chopped
1 tsp. honey
1 tsp. Dijon mustard
2/3 cup vegetable oil (I used olive oil)
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil

For the salad:
1 1/2 lbs. thick asparagus, stems peeled (I used thin and skipped the stem peeling step)
1 1/4 lbs. baby red potatoes, halved or quartered
1/3 cup olive oil
1/2 cup capers, drained, patted dry
8 oz. mixed spring greens
16 large radishes, trimmed, very thinly sliced (about 3 cups)
3 large hard-boiled eggs, peeled, quartered
12 oz. imported tuna packed in oil, drained
Chive blossoms (optional)

For the vinaigrette:
Puree first 5 ingredients in blender until smooth. With machine running, gradually add vegetable oil, then olive oil. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

For the salad:
Cook asparagus in large skillet of boiling salted water until just tender, 4 to 5 minutes. Use tongs to transfer the asparagus to 13 x 9 x 2-inch pan (or large bowl) of ice water to cool. Drain asparagus and pat dry. Keep the water boiling

Place the potatoes and eggs in the boiling water. Cook until potatoes are tender, 10 to 15 minutes, depending on size of potatoes. Drain and transfer the potatoes and eggs into a large bowl of ice water (use the one for the asparagus but refill with cold water and ice). Let cool 5 minutes then drain. Crack the eggs and remove the shells. Slice into quarters and set aside. Place the potatoes in a large bowl with the radishes and the greens. Add 1/3 cup vinaigrette; toss to coat. Add 1 more tablespoon vinaigrette if dry. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

For the capers:
Heat olive oil in small skillet over medium-high heat. Add capers and fry until capers are crisp and open like flowers, stirring often, 45 to 60 seconds. Using slotted spoon, transfer capers to paper towels to drain.

Plate the greens, potatoes, and radishes prettily on plates. Add the eggs, tuna, and asparagus on top. Drizzle some vinaigrette over the tuna. Sprinkle with the fried capers and chive blossoms if you have them (I didn't).

what to do with antipasto leftovers

Sometimes after a party you end up with a lot of little edible odds and ends usually left over from the pre-dinner snacks. A handful of olives, the end of a wedge of cheese, a few salami slices. Normally this stuff gets gobbled up the next day around our house, but what if you could make a meal around those leftovers?

A few weeks ago, while racking my brain for some dishes to make this week, I reached for an old copy of Food & Wine containing their 30 best fast dishes. (Thanks again, Mindi for this issue!) I haven't quite made my way through the whole list, but I'm almost there. And I can pretty much guarantee that you really can't go wrong with any of them. It really is a fantastic bunch of recipes, and as promised, they are all pretty quick and easy.

In the story, a photo of a platter of lettuce with a bunch of interesting toppings caught my eye: Nancy Silverton's antipasto salad with bocconcini and green-olive tapenade. It sounded like exactly the thing to eat that night while watching the final game of All-Star weekend. Like an antipasto platter with the illusion of being healthy. Does lettuce ever really healthify anything?

I had to buy a few things like bocconcini and the tapenade but I had a lot of the ingredients already—all pantry staples or dinner party leftovers. You could easily adapt this recipe to use up any other little bites lingering in the fridge: trade out the mozzarella for another type of cheese (feta, maybe?), substitute any fresh herb for the basil, or use whatever meat you may have on hand in place of the salami (proscutto would be great in this).


Antipasto salad
Extra veggies would be a nice (and healthy) addition to this. I threw in a few handfuls of grape tomatoes, but I think next time I'll add some thinly-sliced raw fennel, and maybe a diced green pepper.
(Serves about 4 people)

3 Tbsp. green-olive tapenade from a jar
1/4 cup peperoncini—stemmed, seeded and finely chopped
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 1/2 cups bocconcini (about 9 ounces)
1 Tbsp. plus 1 tsp. fresh lemon juice
1 Tbsp. plus 1 tsp. red wine vinegar
1 Tbsp. plus 1 tsp. minced garlic
1 tsp. dried oregano
salt and freshly ground pepper
1 small head of iceberg lettuce, halved, cored and finely shredded (I used romaine pre-cut in a bag)
6 oz. (1 1/2 cups) thinly sliced Genoa salami, cut into thin strips
6 basil leaves
1/2 cup olives

In a medium bowl, mix the green-olive tapenade with the peperoncini and 1/4 cup of the oil. Add the bocconcini and toss. In a small bowl, whisk the lemon juice with the vinegar, garlic and oregano. Whisk in the remaining 1/4 cup of olive oil and season the dressing with salt and pepper. In a large bowl, combine the shredded lettuce and salami. Add the marinated bocconcini and half of the dressing and toss well. Transfer the antipasto salad to a large platter. Top with the basil and olives. Drizzle the remaining dressing around the salad and serve at once.