crostini with pears, goat cheese, thyme and honey

Is really, really good. You should make it now. And don't skimp on the black pepper. That is all.

a salad for all places

Maybe you’re expecting a detailed account of everything I cooked for Thanksgiving. If so, I am sorry to disappoint you. My mother-in-law hosted and made a lovely spread and I hardly cooked at all. Between writing about turkey for a solid month straight, traveling with an excited little dog, and being plain exhausted, I fell short in the cooking department this year. Of course I tried—I had a slight hissy fit about not being able to make my favorite cranberry sauce. (Mom beat me to it with her own spiced version, delicious in its own right.)

hi there

I'm back! Did you miss me? I made you these deviled eggs to apologize for my absence. (I'm sorry if you were expecting cookies.)

I didn't intend to be away for so long. But sometimes you go on vacation, and then the computer dies, and then you get really busy with work. Which means not a lot of blogging, not a lot of dinner parties.

To be honest with you, my new job has been keeping me even busier than I expected. Which is fantastic. But to be really, really honest, being a food editor and thinking about food all day long and even in my dreams (ask Dan--I was sleeptalking about tomatoes last weekend), has put a bit of a damper on my food blogging appetite. I'm still going to post here, but maybe not as frequently. Maybe only when I have something really exciting to share or an especially great or disastrous dinner party to write about. Which will hopefully be quite often. (Not the disastrous part.) And I hope you'll still visit and comment and enjoy this space. Thanks, as always, for reading.

Classic deviled eggs
My go-to, never-fail recipe. You can easily dress these up with fresh herbs, curry powder, chipotle, five spice powder, pesto or anything else your deviled egg-loving heart desires. This is just a jumping off point.
(Makes 12 deviled eggs)

6 eggs
1/4 cup mayo, or more (or plain, low-fat Greek yogurt)
1 tsp. Dijon mustard
Salt and pepper
Paprika

Put your eggs in a saucepot and fill the pot with cold water until the eggs are covered by an inch of water. Place the pot over medium heat. Once the water comes to a boil, let the eggs cook for 1 minute, then remove from the heat and cover the pot with a lid. Let the eggs stand for 10 minutes. Drain the eggs and let them sit in cold water for five minutes. Crack the eggs and peel off the shells. Slice the eggs in half diagonally and remove the cooked yolks into a small bowl. Using a fork, mash the yolks into a paste. Add the mayo and mustard and stir until smooth. (If the mixture seems a bit dry, add a little more mayo.) Add salt and pepper to taste. Spoon the filling into each egg half as neatly as possible. Place the filled eggs on a plate and sprinkle with paprika before serving.

avocado-yogurt dip

Avocados are one of my favorite foods, period. I like to think it's because I'm from Florida, but I prefer California-grown Haas avocados to the bland and strangely sweet varieties grown in my hometown. My not-so-secret shame.

I love avocados so much that when I think dinner party, I think guacamole. No matter what's on the menu it's my go-to, no-brainer appetizer along with deviled eggs. But sometimes even I want to mix things up a little bit, so for my no-cook menu, I used avocados to make a creamy, yogurt-based dip, kind of like a Green goddess dressing.

I used what I had on hand (scallions, cilantro, and lime juice) to add some much-needed brightness, and blended everything together in my food processor until smooth. The result was an herbaceous, tangy dip that paired well with crackers and crunchy vegetables like radishes, snap peas and red bell pepper strips. It would also make an awesome salad dressing, come to think of it.

This dip might not replace my beloved guac, but it's a nice stand-in when I'm craving something different.

Avocado-yogurt dip
(Serves 6 to 8)

6 oz. plain Greek yogurt
2 avocados, diced
1 lime, juiced
1/3 cup cilantro, chopped
2 scallions, minced
Salt and pepper

In a medium-sized bowl, combine the yogurt and avocado. Mash the avocado with a fork until it is smooth and combined with the yogurt. Add the lime juice, cilantro, scallions and salt and pepper to taste. Stir until combined. Refrigerate until ready to serve, for up to 1 day.

boozy watermelon

I'm a big fan of cocktails before dinner, but with this new no-cook approach (or laziness?) I wanted to make everything ahead of time. And then I remembered this overpriced tequila-infused watermelon I had at a cute little fancified Southern restaurant recently, an idea I wanted to steal and make even better at home. You've probably heard of college kids filling watermelons with vodka and letting them sit overnight to get 80 proof fruit. Well, this is sort of similar.

You slice up a watermelon into little triangles, then let it marinate in a mixture of tequila and lime juice for a few hours. To serve, just arrange the slices on a pretty plate, sprinkle with chili and salt and a little fresh mint leaves. Cocktails on a platter!

If you don't like tequila, you could easily substitute vodka, light rum, or gin. Gin would be fantastic. And mix the herbs to suit your tastes as well--basil, obviously, would be great, but so would cilantro or lemon thyme, if you can get your hands on some.

Boozy watermelon
(Serves 6 to 8)
1 4 1/2 lb. wedge of seedless watermelon
1 cup tequila
2 limes, juiced
Mint leaves from 3 stems of mint
flaky salt
Cayenne pepper

Slice the watermelon into thin wedges, leaving the rind intact. Place the watermelon in a single layer in a turkey pan or deep baking sheet. In a small bowl, combine the tequila and lime juice. Pour the mixture over the melon evenly. Let it sit in the refrigerator for at least two hours. When ready to serve, plate the watermelon (reserve the tequila for future use, if you wish). Sprinkle with a pinch of flaky salt, some cayenne pepper and the mint leaves. Serve immediately.

the no-cook dinner party

Other than a pan of brownies that we absolutely could not go on living without, I have hardly turned on the oven all summer. It's been limiting, but also kind of nice not producing workout-levels of sweat while cooking. Instead, we've been eating a lot of salads, pastas, and the usual tacos. And then I invited some friends over for dinner on a typical 90 degree day and wondered what the heck I was going to do.

I thought about breaking my no-oven rule, but then I looked at it as a fun challenge. What could I make without heat that would be dinner party-worthy?

Readers, I did it. And it was good.

accidentally delicious black bean dip

Apologies for the hot-so-hot photo. The sun was going down and as you can see, my cocktail is half full, which often leads to sub-par photography. I was also rushing the "shoot" so I could grab some chips and dig into the dip. Which was very, very good. It was almost as popular as our furry houseguest.

crostini!

If left to my own devices, I would probably put something on a piece of toast and call it dinner every single night. To me, there's nothing finer than crunching into a slice of baguette topped with something delicious.

And sometimes the best topping ideas seem to come out of nowhere. For our dinner with Dan's dad Larry, I knew we'd need something to snack on before the main event hit the table. So I grabbed an avocado and mashed it up in a bowl with a squeeze of lemon and a good hit of salt. I spooned the makeshift guac onto the baguette slices and drizzled everything with some olive oil. Sounds stupidly simple, but it was really delicious. A good avocado can almost stand on its own. You don't necessarily need lime, and jalapeno, and cilantro. (Although that never hurts.)

On the other side of the plate went a goat cheese-sliced pear-honey crostini. The key to this combo is lots of fresh ground black pepper. Like a tiny bit more than you think you'll want.

What are your favorite things to put on sliced bread? Enlighten us in the comments. I, for one, need more ideas!

smoked salmon on puff pastry

Smoked salmon, creme fraiche, dill, and a shower of lemon zest. What's not to love? And it's pretty nice-looking, to boot.

Continuing the "Dan's favorite foods" theme, this appetizer is inspired by lox and cream cheese on a bagel, but uses a puff pastry base. So it's sort of a bagel, pizza, puff pastry hybrid. Which equals delicious!

All you have to do is bake a sheet of puff pastry according to the package directions (about 15 minutes at 400 degrees), then spread on a layer of creme fraiche (let the container sit out for 30 minutes or so, so it softens up) and top with smoked salmon slices, a few sprigs of dill, and the zest of one lemon. Slice it up into pretty little squares and serve while still warmish.

Don't like smoked salmon? I'd substitute prosciutto and basil, with maybe some minced, dried figs on top? Don't like creme fraiche? You could use any number of soft, spreadable cheeses, or even cream cheese in a pinch. For a vegetarian version, you could top the puff pastry with roasted mushrooms, or pickled red peppers, or sauteed greens. The charm of this recipe is that it is infinitely flexible. And edible.

chipotle peanuts

Did you notice a few years ago that chipotle inexplicably started popping up on menus everywhere? It started in upscale Southwestern restaurants (I think Bobby Flay had something to do with it), then it became the name of a "gourmet" burrito chain, and eventually it trickled all the way down to Wendy's commercials. Now I'm starting to hear "ciabatta" and "sea salt" thrown around a lot. Who knows what will be next? Ramps?
Huitlacoche?

Even though chipotle's time in the spotlight has waned, it's still a terrific ingredient, especially in adobo. Chipotles are smoked jalapenos, and in most grocery stores, you can find them canned in a rich sauce made with tomato puree, paprika, salt, onions, vinegar, and garlic. 

For my enchilada night, I wanted a pre-dinner snack other than my standard guacamole. So I scrolled through Rick Bayless's website and found a recipe for chipotle-roasted peanuts that sounded so good--and weird--I immediately printed it out. The recipe calls for regular old peanuts tossed with a mixture of chipotle in adobo, brown sugar, lime juice--and bizzarely, ketchup. You roast the nuts until the sauce dries out, creating a spicy, reddish coating. Huh. 

I only tweaked the recipe slighly, adding lime zest because I like citrus zest on nuts, and extra salt because nothing is ever salty enough for me. The end result was smoky, a little sweet, and nicely tangy. Not bad! Actually, quite good! And then I found myself gobbling handful after handful. Sneakily addictive, these peanuts.

Chipotle-roasted peanuts
Adapted slightly from Rick Bayless
(Makes 4 cups of nuts)
 
2 chiles from a can of chipotle chiles, plus 1 Tbsp. adobo (the sauce from the can of chiles)
2 Tbsp. lime juice, plus 2 Tbsp. lime zest
2 Tbsp. ketchup
1/4 cup brown sugar
1 tsp. salt, plus extra to taste
4 cups (20 oz.) roasted, unsalted peanuts

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. In a food processor, puree the chipotle chiles, adobo, lime juice, ketchup, sugar, and salt until smooth. Pour the sauce into a large bowl and add the peanuts. Toss until coated. Line a baking sheet with foil or parchment paper and evenly spread the nuts on it. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. The nuts are done when they are fragrant and dry. Add extra salt to taste. (I love salt, so I added an extra few teaspoons.) Let the nuts cool on the baking sheet before serving.

apple-blue cheese-pomegranate salad

I try very hard not to buy specialty ingredients that I will only use in a single recipe, but it happens from time to time. We all have a few random ingredients in our kitchens that make us feel slightly guilty whenever we see them hanging out in the back of a cabinet or cupboard. The tin of mustard powder, the chestnut oil, the jar of black sesame seeds, the mango barbecue sauce. It's almost always condiments, isn't it?

I have bottle of pomegranate molasses in the back of my refrigerator that's been there for a very long time. I have used it to dress Lebanese-style tomato salads and once incorporated it into a cocktail recipe, but other than that, it doesn't get pulled out much. Which is a shame--it has fantastic flavor, tangy and sweet, the thick, concentrated essence of pomegranates. I recently had a dish of roasted cauliflower drizzled with the stuff that gave me ideas.

Anyway, I was on the hunt for a fall salad to serve before Thanksgiving. I wanted something with apples, and blue cheese, and some sort of crunchy nut. Maybe a handful of greens. And then I found a Bobby Flay recipe for that very thing AND it had pomegranate molasses in the vinaigrette. Sold!

This is a fine salad, but the dressing is something pretty special. The pomegranate molasses adds a nice tang that's balanced out by honey and Dijon mustard. It's like your typical salad dressing but with something a little mysterious in the mix. People will say, what's in this? This is so delicious! And you'll just smile, knowing that you can whip the salad up any old time because that bottle of pomegranate molasses is not going anywhere anytime soon.

Chopped apple salad with toasted walnuts, blue cheese and pomegranate vinaigrette

By Bobby Flay via The Food Network
Don't have pomegranate molasses on hand, or can't find it? Here's how to make it.
(Serves 6 to 8 people, but I easily cut this recipe in half)

For the dressing:
1/4 cup pomegranate molasses
2 Tbsp. red wine vinegar
1 heaping Tbsp. Dijon mustard
1 Tbsp. honey, or more to taste
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
3/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil

For the salad:
6 apples (Granny Smith, Gala, Fuji) any or a combination of all, skin left on, core removed and cut into 1/2-inch dice
2 cups baby or regular spinach
2 heads endive, thinly sliced
1 cup toasted coarsely chopped walnuts
3/4 lb. blue cheese, crumbled (I used Buttermilk Blue)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Whisk together the pomegranate molasses, vinegar, mustard, honey and salt and pepper in a medium bowl. Slowly whisk in the olive oil until emulsified. Combine the apples, spinach, endive, walnuts and blue cheese in a large bowl. Add the vinaigrette and toss to coat, season with salt and pepper, to taste.

guest post: turkey day snacks

Today we have a timely guest post from Casey Barber of Good. Food. Stories. on Thanksgiving Day snacks, for both the cook and the guests. Thanks, Casey!
 
"A word about Mrs. Flax and food: the word is 'hors d'oeuvre.' Fun Finger Foods is her main source book and it's all the woman cooks." Winona Ryder, Mermaids

Cher had it right. Maybe I was warped by too much movie-watching during my teenage years, but like Rachel Flax, I firmly believe that finger foods are the best parts of any meal.

This goes double for Thanksgiving. When one is tied to making the same potato gratin year after year because the family won't have it any other way, appetizers allow a experimentally-addicted cook to sneak in some unexpected flavors without causing chaos among the nearest and dearest gathered in the dining room.

And though I might not serve cheese ball pick-me-ups accompanied by miniature franks and marshmallow kebabs, I've been known to sneak things that really have no business at Thanksgiving, like deviled eggs, beet-pickled deviled eggs, cheese-and-almond-stuffed peppadews, and a plate of rumaki or two onto my menu this way. No one's made a peep of complaint, not even the folks who are first in line for the cranberry sauce and sweet potatoes.

When planning your hors d'oeuvre sneak attack during a big meal like Thanksgiving, logistical concerns should help dictate your choices. Melissa Clark, the always-practical writer, suggests you pick an appetizer or two that can double as a lunch snackie for the hungry head cook. As someone who ends up eating random cheese ends and half the olive plate before it heads out into the dining room, this is a movement I can certainly get behind.

I also recommend choosing nibbles that can be served at room temperature, so if you and your guests are waiting for the turkey to hit its mark, you won't need to worry about reheating the first round of finger foods.

Meeting all these requirements and more are the humble arancini: Italian rice balls. Arancini are filling little buggers, so you don't need to make hundreds of them to keep the hordes satisfied‚ two or three per person are suitably ample. Though they're traditionally deep-fried and served piping hot, the following Food & Wine recipe lets you bake the arancini rather than frying to order, which makes me ever so happy.

Feel free to make these the night before Thanksgiving and throw them into the oven for a few minutes as soon as you remove the turkey. Like most Italian dishes, they also taste just as good eaten cold as breakfast leftovers.

Arancini with gruyere and parmesan
Adapted from Food & Wine.
(makes approximately 36 rice balls)
1 Tbsp. olive oil
1 medium shallot, minced
1 large garlic clove, minced
1 cup arborio rice
2 cups water
2 large egg whites
1/2 cup panko
1/2 cup coarsely grated Parmesan cheese, divided in half
1 cup shredded Gruyere cheese
1 Tbsp. fresh rosemary, minced
2 Tbsp. flat-leaf parsley, minced
salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees and line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a Silpat.

Heat the olive oil in a high-sided saucepan over medium heat. When it shimmers, add the shallot and garlic and cook for 3-4 minutes or until softened. Add the rice and stir to coat with the oil and aromatics, then add the water and bring to a boil.

Lower the heat, cover, and simmer for 10-15 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the rice completely absorbs the water. Transfer the rice to a large bowl and place in the refrigerator for 15 minutes to cool.

While the rice is cooling, whip the egg whites until stiff peaks form and set aside. In a large bowl, mix the panko and half the Parmesan (1/4 cup).

Remove the bowl from the fridge, stir all the Gruyere, the remaining half the Parmesan, and all the herbs into the rice. Season with salt and pepper to taste, then gently stir the egg whites into the rice.

Roll the rice mixture into 1-inch balls, dredge with the panko-Parmesan coating, and transfer to the baking sheet. Bake for 30 minutes or until golden brown.

frankies-style antipasto

Frankies Spuntino is my favorite Italian restaurant. The Brooklyn location is just a few subway stops (or a pleasant walk) away from where Dan and I live, so you'd think we'd go there all the time. But nearly every time we enter the restaurant's cozy, candlelit entryway, we face a nice guy with a clipboard telling us it's gonna be a two hour wait, or we can hang out at the bar. The bar is usually surrounded by a crowd that's three people deep angling for the bartender's attention. And so we shake our heads politely and head back outside to figure out a plan B, which is never as appealing as Frankies.

Frankies is a friendly, casual neighborhood-type spot most people would kill for. It's not expensive, it's reliably good, and it used to be the kind of place we could get in early on a Saturday night, or after work on a Tuesday. But after many glowing reviews, and a cookbook, and lots of other positive press, it's mobbed. Constantly.

Oh, Frankies! I miss your pine nut-flecked meatballs sitting in a pool of marinara. I miss your expertly-dressed salads piled high on white plates. I miss your ricotta cheesecake, your modestly-priced house wine, your bread served with your own bright yellow olive oil. But most of all, I miss your antipasto plate.

Oh, it's so good. You get a big platter beautifully filled with two types of meat (I like the proscuitto and spicy soppressata), a generous handful of olives, two types of cheese, and two vegetables. The vegetables might be the best part of this whole thing. Frankies has a way with roasting veggies. They dress them in their good olive oil, and season them perfectly. And that's it. You get sweet, caramelized carrots, savory brussels sprouts, lovely little room temperature mushrooms, or if you're lucky, crispy cauliflower that's nicely charred around the edges. The chef chooses the combination of things, so every time it is a little different, a nice surprise.

With some bread and a glass of wine, it could stand as a meal, and I've ordered it that way many times. Although not as often as I'd like. So I am left to make my own bastardized version at home. Which wasn't half bad! Actually, it was almost as good as the real thing, minus the romantic atmosphere and backyard view of the F train speeding by. 

Roast some veggies, grab a few kinds of good cheese and cured meat, add a handful of olives, and slice up a nice baguette. Toast the bread if that's your thing. Grab your prettiest platter and arrange these things in an attractive way. Serve it forth, sigh in happiness.

pimento cheese

Pimento cheese seems innocent enough. Two types of cheddar, some mayo, a little seasoning, chopped up pimentos. Whirr these things together in a blender, spread on a cracker. 

And then...suddenly you're trying to think of other ways to incorporate this miracle spread in your diet. Stuffed into celery sticks? Spread on a bagel? As a filling for a deviled egg? In a burger? A tiny bit mixed in with your daily smoothie? I'm kidding. (Sort of.) 

This stuff is addictive, is my point. It might not sound like much, but when made with good-quality cheddar and spread over warm baguette slices, pimento cheese is a true Southern delicacy. Make this recipe the next time you've got a group of hungry people who will polish off the jar and not leave you with any leftovers to eat with a spoon, or um, your fingers.

Mother's everyday pimento cheese
This is not my mother's recipe, it's someone else's mother, via Gourmet. Many Southern cooks swear by stirring the mixture into a paste by hand, but my arm got tired so I used a food processor, which worked fine. I leave that decision up to you.
(Makes about 3 cups)

1/2 lb. extra-sharp Vermont white cheddar
1/2 lb. extra-sharp aged New York (orange) cheddar
1 7 oz. jar pimentos, drained and finely chopped
1/2 tsp. black pepper
cayenne to taste
2/3 cup mayonnaise

Finely grate cheeses into a large bowl. Stir in pimentos, black pepper, cayenne, and salt to taste with a fork. Then stir in mayonnaise, mashing mixture with fork until relatively smooth. (It should be flecked with small pieces of pimento.) Scrape spread into a crock or jar and chill, covered, at least 2 hours to allow flavors to develop. Serve pimento cheese with crackers or use as a filling for finger sandwiches.

two summery crostinis

Back when we watched a lot of Food Network, Dan and I used to joke that all Giada DiLaurentiis ever makes is crap on toast. Which isn't entirely true, although almost every episode features crostini with some sort of overpronounced Italian topping. Like Prooosckuuuittto.

But Giada has a point. Crostini are so simple to make and everyone loves them. Put a tray of pretty little toasts in front of people and they will be inhaled before you blink. And if you're going to go the crostini route, now is a pretty great time to do it. The best thing about summer produce is that it doesn't require much fussing. Things like peaches and tomatoes are perfect atop a slice of toasted baguette with a little seasoning or herbs.

I feel silly even giving you Giada-style recipes for these, but here are two simple ideas making the dinner party rounds at our house.

Peaches, goat cheese, basil, and black pepper

For one half of a baguette, you'll need about two peaches and about three ounces of softened chevre. A handful of basil leaves will do. Don't skimp on the freshly cracked black pepper--the spiciness brings all of the flavors together. 

Pan con tomate (sort of)

The traditional Spanish method is to rub half of a very ripe tomato over toasted bread slices that have been lightly rubbed with a clove of garlic. I find that it's easier to grate the tomato with a box grater, then pile the shreds on top of the toast. For a finishing touch, I added some olive oil and rosemary sea salt (a present from my lovely mother-in-law). You can easily make your own salt blend by mixing coarse sea salt with a pinch of dried rosemary. Don't overdo it, though.

a heat-free dinner

My friend Sarah has fed me many times and I hadn't returned the favor in a long while, so a dinner was in order. We agreed on a date and all seemed fine, but then a heat wave overtook the city and it was suddenly 100 degrees outside. Because our top-floor apartment turns into a furnace in the summer, it was about 100 degrees inside as well. Not only was I sweating through my clothes, my appetite had evaporated. All I wanted was watermelon and cold beer, and that's not really a meal. Right?

Instead of moving our date to an air-conditioned restaurant like a sane person, I decided to tough it out. I would make a cool, refreshing meal and wouldn't even look at the stove. No grilling, no boiling, no baking. Now, what to make?

Chilled shrimp always comes to mind when I think about hot-weather food for some reason. Maybe because I have happy memories of eating it poolside? Being on a post-vacation budget, I wasn't willing to shell out (heh) for a pound of the pricey little suckers. But I could afford a can of salmon, which makes a tasty little salad atop crackers, or if you're me, Triscuits. I thought about making a salmon crostini, but that would require toasting bread. Triscuits it would be.

We ate our crackers with the salmon spread and some guacamole, plus cold deviled eggs straight from the refrigerator (I broke my own rule and boiled the eggs the night before), handfuls of cherries, and radishes and snap peas with tarragon butter. Sarah kindly brought a bottle of cold rosé, which we drank like water. Dessert was framboise ice cream floats. (More on those later.) It was a tasty but slightly odd combination of things; I think my lack of appetite threw me off a bit.

Did we still sweat? Ladies glisten, they don't sweat. Oh, who am I kidding? I was shvitzing like a pig. But the cold food and good conversation was a wonderful distraction, at least.

Heat-free dinner

Deviled eggs

Salmon salad on Triscuits
Guacamole
Radishes with tarragon butter and salt
Cherries

Framboise ice cream floats

Salmon salad
This spread is great for sandwiches too.
(Serves about 4 people)

2 6 oz. cans Alaskan salmon (in water), drained
1/3 cup mayo
1 handful dill, minced (tarragon, basil, parsley, or cilantro would be fine)
1/2 red bell pepper, finely minced
salt and pepper

Combine the first four ingredients in a bowl and mix until combined. Add salt and pepper to taste.

alinea, by way of new jersey

Expectations are different when you go to someone's house for dinner and when you go out to eat at a restaurant. I'm not just talking about service. When you are at a dinner party, no one is going to take your order and refill your water glass every ten minutes. That would be pretty weird. And I'm not talking about quality necessarily. Many meals I've eaten in people's homes trump meals, often expensive ones, I've eaten in restaurants.

When dining out, I expect a certain level of technical precision. Every ingredient should be handled just so, seasoned properly, and cooked to perfection. I don't expect any of my friends, or myself, to dice potatoes and carrots in perfect cubes. Restaurant dishes should also display a level of ambition and inventiveness that comes with being a trained chef. I want original flavor combinations, surprising plating techniques, new methods of preparation. Restaurant food should wow. It should make you moan and lick your plate and chew thoughtfully to detect magical, secret ingredients.

Last weekend, my friend Casey--the Casey of man-bait chicken potpies, Good. Food. Stories., and general kitchen prowess--invited Dan and me to come over for dinner. Casey and her husband Dan own a house in New Jersey. I lived in Jersey for a few years and have deep-seated angst over my time spent there. It takes a lot for me to go back. Especially via Penn Station.

It takes the promise of a six-course meal of recipes from the Alinea cookbook. (And the company of these fine people, of course.)

Alinea is an award-winning restaurant in Chicago that specializes in innovative, whimsical, and at times shocking deconstructions of classic dishes. At Alinea, nothing on your plate is what it seems. Peanut butter and jelly is a single, peeled grape on the stem that is encased in peanut butter and wrapped in paper-thin brioche. One menu item is called "foie gras, spicy cinnamon puff, apple candy" and looks like a tiny, jelly-filled truffle. It takes over a dozen steps to make and contains a substance called Methocel F-50. Don't ask me what that is.

I have never eaten at Alinea, but have tasted chef Grant Achatz's food at the James Beard Awards. His team placed bite-sized morsels of something (I can't remember what) on long, curved skewers so guests had to lean forward to grab a bite straight off the skewer. People were amused, delighted, puzzled, and some even walked away. That is what Alinea does in a nutshell.

Not too long ago, Achatz put out a cookbook for home chefs, and Casey got her hands on a copy, hence our six-course tasting menu. Another Alinea fan, Carol Blymire, is currently blogging her way through the whole book at Alinea at Home, which is a super-entertaining read, if you don't follow it already. I laugh and shake my head at almost every post. I don't know how she does it. I am linking to her blog below to give you an idea of the staggering amount of work that goes into each dish. It's really quite amazing.

And I don't know how Casey pulled this meal off either. There was an ingredient/prep list on her refrigerator that made me feel a little light-headed just looking at it. Had she been cooking for days? After she handed me a blood orange-Cointreau-orange vodka cocktail, we were presented with trays of snacks, Achatz-style. As in, they weren't identifiable.

First course: Idiazabel, maple syrup, smoked salt
This is a cheese cracker that Carol aptly dubs Alinea Cheetos. They tasted a bit styrofoamy, but in a pleasantly chewy way.

Second course: Cheese, in cracker
These pillowy little nuggets tasted like soft Superpretzels filled with cheddar cheese. Meaning: effing amazing. A syringe was involved in the making of this dish. Casey said she got one at her cats' vet. Clever girl.

Third course: Bacon, butterscotch, apple, thyme
This is essentially candied bacon with an extremely thin layer of dehydrated green apple on top. I didn't really pick up the thyme, but the caramel sweetness of the bacon melded perfectly with the tart apple, which almost dissolves in your mouth. A+.

Bonus course: Salad
This is lettuce that has been dehydrated and reconstituted into lettuce-like leaves. Kidding, it's just salad. With Ranch dressing with bacon and blue cheese on the side. Casey's good like that.

Fourth course: Hot potato, cold potato
Casey skipped the truffles on this dish, which we gave her a hard time about, of course. It's essentially a cold, extremely creamy potato soup with tiny cubes of hot potatoes and cold butter and cheese that combine in the broth, heightening the baked potato flavor. It was really sensory and also really delicious.

Fifth course: Pork, grapefruit, sage, honeycomb
This was the entree, and it really was the shining centerpiece of our meal: succulent pork tenderloin, crispy pork bits, grapefruit, braised fennel, a drizzle of honey, and a clear sage pudding underneath that served as an aromatic sauce. Cornbread on the side. Casey will be writing more about this dish later, and how to adapt it to make it a tiny bit easier.

Sixth course: caramel popcorn, liquified
This was a little strange. It tasted like Poppycock but in liquid/foam form, heavy on the butter. I have to say I didn't love it, but it was interesting. And the little espresso cups were adorable.

Bonus course: Ice cream sandwiches
No, this is not another trick. It's an ice cream sandwich with homemade caramel ice cream, served "flying saucer"-style, a la Carvel. Some things should look like what they are. Ice cream sandwiches fall into that category.

The meal was every bit as memorable as anything you'd experience in a big-name restaurant. But if we had eaten these dishes at Alinea, our focus would have been more on the food than each other. Instead, we chatted, listened to music, watched their cats wrestle on a chair in the living room. The meal lasted about four hours, but by the time 11:30 rolled around, we were shocked. Time passes easily when you're with good friends, eating good food.

Dinner parties are about people and socializing, and the food, no matter how incredible, is secondary. Although when someone spends such a considerable amount of effort making it, you can't help but feel even more special.

in praise of puff pastry

My baking mishaps have been well-documented on this blog. Fugly cakes, runny pies, soggy bar cookies. I'm not a pastry chef, what can I say?

But puff pastry? I'll take that over a layer cake any day. Puff pastry is not hard to work with, even for someone who doesn't have a baker's inherent precision and patience. All you have to do is defrost it, roll it out, brush it with oil or egg, and bake it off. For these small efforts you'll be rewarded with golden flaky perfection. It's not at all like its cousin, phyllo. Phyllo is one temperamental bitch.

Do I make my own puff pastry? I'll let you answer that for yourself. (NO.) I buy it in a box that says Pepperidge Farm and call it a day. Or sometimes in even larger sheets from the nice Middle Eastern grocer down the block.

Puff pastry is fantastic for dinner parties because there are endless ways to use it, both sweet and savory. Like this giant, beautiful specimen. Whoa, right?

This is a chocolate croissant/turnover-like dessert that I created on a whim one night. It's nothing more than puff pastry filled with squares of chocolate, brushed with some egg, and topped with a tiny bit of sea salt. Whipped cream on the side is recommended, but optional.

And then you take your fork and break into the flaky crust and this happens:

It is very, very, very good.

I also like to use puff pastry to make vegetarian tarts, either cut into little squares as an appetizer, or in more generous portions as a main course, usually served with a salad or some other side dish. The roasted tomato and goat cheese tart shown above looks and tastes very French and sophisticated but takes less than an hour to make.

How do you like to use puff pastry? Please share in the comments.

Chocolate pockets
The pockets above are a little huge. I would probably make them smaller next time, or possibly bite-size, which would be adorable. Use this recipe as a guide but play with the size of the pastry if you'd like. You can easily cut the strips of pastry smaller.
(Serves 4 people)

1 sheet of puff pastry, defrosted
12 oz. chocolate squares from your favorite chocolate bar, milk or dark
1 egg, beaten
flaky sea salt

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees. Unfold the puff pastry onto another baking sheet. Using a small knife, cut the pastry lengthwise into four equal strips. Place about 3 ounces of chocolate in the middle of one end of each strip. Be sure not to place the chocolate too close to the edges of the strip or it will leak out. Fold the dough over, and continue folding until you reach the end of the strip, creating a rectangular pocket. Brush each pocket with the beaten egg. Sprinkle each one with salt. Bake the four pockets for 20 to 25 minutes, or until the pockets are golden brown.

Roasted tomato and goat cheese tart
Adapted from Dave's Dinners. If it's not tomato season, you could substitute strips of zucchini, some sauteed red onions, grilled eggplant, or whatever vegetable you like.
(Serves about 10 people as a starter)

8 plum tomatoes, halved lengthwise
Olive oil
salt and pepper
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
20 thyme sprigs
1 sheet puff pastry, thawed
2 oz. goat cheese

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees. Put the tomatoes on a baking sheet and drizzle them generously with olive oil. Toss to coat evenly, then place them cut side up. Season the tomatoes with salt and pepper and sprinkle with the garlic evenly over each tomato. Lay about 12 to 15 thyme sprigs over the tomatoes. Roast the tomatoes until soft but still holding their shape, about 25 minutes. Remove from the oven and allow to cool slightly. Then pinch off the skins, being careful not to damage the shapes of the tomatoes.

Unfold the puff pastry onto another baking sheet. Brush the surface of the pastry well with olive oil. Lay the tomatoes cut-side up over the pastry, creating a 1-inch border around the edge. Fold the pastry edges up, creating a 1/2 inch border. Press the edges to seal and brush with olive oil. Season the tomatoes with a little more salt and pepper and bake until the crust begins to puff and brown, about 20 minutes. Carefully remove the tart from the oven and crumble the goat cheese over it. Return to the oven and bake until the cheese starts to brown and the crust is golden, another 10 minutes. Allow the tart to cool slightly before cutting into squares and serving.

butternut squash and carrot soup

We still 19 days of winter to go and I can hardly stand to look at another root vegetable. I've made it through the season roasting cauliflower and brussels sprouts, caramelizing onions, pureeing parsnips. All have been delicious, but what I wouldn't give for a greenmarket tomato right now. And some sunshine. And green leaves on the trees. Instead, I've got carrots and butternut squash.

Roasting brings out the natural sweetness in winter vegetables and is the easiest way I know to make them taste really good with minimum effort. Tired of my usual olive oil-salt-roast-at-400-degrees-and-devour method, I decided to take it a step further and puree the roasted carrots and squash into a creamy soup. I barely added anything to the vegetables, just some water and a touch of cream, so the end result tasted purely of sweet, earthy squash and carrots. It tasted so light and healthy. I could almost feel the vitamins brightening my gray winter complexion. Almost.

The soup was a first course as part of my Indian-ish dinner, so I added a touch of garam masala and a dollop of cumin-spiced yogurt and chopped cilantro on top. If you don't like the flavor of curry, you could use a bit of thyme or basil instead. But keep the yogurt because it adds a nice creaminess.

The soup was a deep, gorgeous shade of orange. It reminded me of that big fiery thing in the sky that comes out sometimes. You know, that warms your face and makes you feel less depressed? What's that thing called again?

Butternut squash and carrot soup
(Makes 4 to 6 servings)

1/2 medium butternut squash, peeled chopped into 1-inch pieces
3 large carrots, peeled and chopped into 1-inch pieces
1 onion, peeled and chopped into 1-inch pieces
2 Tbsp. olive oil
salt and pepper
1 Tbsp. garam masala
1 cup of hot water or so
1/4 cup heavy cream, or to taste
1/2 cup Greek yogurt
1/2 lemon, juiced
1 tsp. cumin
2 Tbsp. chopped cilantro

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees. Place the chopped squash, carrots, and onions in a baking pan. Drizzle with olive oil, garam masala and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast for 15 to 20 minutes, shaking the pan a few times to keep them from sticking. Remove from the oven when tender and caramelized. (Brown spots are fine and add flavor.) Place the vegetables in a blender and add 1/2 cup hot water. Puree, adding an additional 1/2 cup water to get a smooth consistency. Add the cream and puree until blended. Taste and adjust the seasoning with salt and pepper. At this point, you can serve the soup as-is, or if you are not eating until later on, you can refrigerate it and re-heat it in a pot on the stove.

In a small bowl, combine the yogurt, lemon juice, cumin, and add salt to taste. Pour the hot soup into bowls and top each one with a spoonful of yogurt and some chopped cilantro.

meatball sliders

The Little Owl is a pocket-sized restaurant in the West Village. Like lots of places in New York, it was very, very hyped after it opened and getting a table there was--and still is--challenging at best. I ate there a few years ago with some friends and really liked it, even in spite of the crowds. I don't remember what I ate but the atmosphere was what got me. It's the cozy, friendly type of place you wish was in your own neighborhood, even though it would be perpetually packed anywhere, due to its teeny dining room.

One of the most talked-about dishes on the menu, other than a Flintstones-sized pork chop served with butter beans, is the gravy meatball sliders, which come three to an order, lined up in a cute little row. This gravy is not the brown stuff that goes over a slice of turkey. Even though I am half Italian, I had never heard the word gravy used to refer to a tomato-based sauce until I moved to New York. People said things like, "I love my gramma's Sunday gravy," and I was very confused until someone explained it to me. This is the type of gravy on these sliders, rich and fragrant from fennel seeds, basil, and garlic.

Like many restaurant dishes, this recipe takes several steps. You have to make the meatballs and brown them in a skillet, make the sauce and puree it, simmer the meatballs in the sauce until they are cooked through, and then assemble each tiny burger. I made the sliders as the centerpiece of our Super Bowl party, and they more than made up for all of that work. The meatballs were juicy and flavorful with parmesan, parsley, plus beef and pork, and the gravy was everything you'd want in a tomato sauce.

Everyone likes tiny food, and burgers are no exception. But tiny burgers require tiny buns. I thought about searching the city for them (because unlike some people, I will not bake my own) and then got wise and cut up hot dog buns into thirds. While homemade buns would probably elevate these sliders into a divine realm, sometimes you just have to know where to draw the line.

Gravy meatball sliders
Adapted by The Little Owl's chef Joey Campanaro for Bon Appetit. These would be a hearty start to a meal, or a meal in themselves, served up with some soup or salad. Or a bunch of fattening snacks, as we did for the Super Bowl.
(Makes 6 servings of 3 sliders)

1/2 lb. ground beef
1/2 lb. ground pork
1/2 lb. ground veal (I used an extra half-pound of beef instead)
1/2 cup panko (Japanese breadcrumbs)
1/2 cup water
8 Tbsp. freshly grated Pecorino Romano cheese, divided (I used parmesan)
1 large egg
1 large egg yolk
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. ground black pepper
1/4 cup vegetable oil
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 cup chopped onion
6 garlic cloves, chopped
1/4 cup (packed) fresh basil leaves
1 1/2 tsp. fennel seeds
1 28-oz. can whole peeled tomatoes
1 14.5-oz. can whole peeled tomatoes
Arugula leaves (I used spinach leaves)
18 small soft rolls, split horizontally

Mix all meats, panko, 1/2 cup water, 6 tablespoons cheese, egg, egg yolk, 1/4 cup parsley, 1 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon black pepper in large bowl. Form into eighteen 2-inch-meatballs.

Heat vegetable oil in large skillet over medium-high heat. Working in batches, fry meatballs until brown all over. Transfer to plate. Pour off drippings from skillet. Reduce heat to medium. Add olive oil to skillet. Add onion, garlic, basil, and fennel seeds. Sauté until onion begins to brown, about 5 minutes. Add all tomatoes with juices. Bring to boil, scraping up browned bits. Reduce heat to low, cover with lid slightly ajar, and simmer, stirring occasionally, about 30 minutes.

Puree sauce in processor until almost smooth. Return to same skillet. Add meatballs. Cover with lid slightly ajar and simmer until meatballs are cooked through, stirring occasionally, about 30 minutes longer. Can be made 1 day ahead. Cover; chill.

Place arugula (or spinach) leaves on bottom of each roll, if desired. Top each with 1 meatball. Drizzle meatballs with some of sauce and sprinkle with remaining 2 tablespoons parsley and 2 tablespoons cheese. Cover with tops of rolls.