this and that

So far, this has been a dinner party-less January, but I've still been doing a lot of cooking for myself and Dan. And Mabel when things fall on the floor. Here is a look at what's been in heavy rotation.

Stir-frys
At the risk of sounding...I don't know, like a recent visitor from the 1980s, I am on a big-time stir-fry kick. I like dinners that can be made in one pan, that include all of the things that form a complete meal: starch, protein, vegetables. I have tried one with greens, chicken and peanuts, one with chicken and cashews (adding bell peppers and bok choy), and a very-tinkered-with variation of this one, with ground turkey and have enjoyed them all but feel like I haven't cracked the stir-fry code. I haven't yet found one that I want to make again and again. Any suggestions?

grilled cheese, please

I’m not a huge grilled cheese person. I like the sensory pleasure of crunching into dry, buttery toast and melty cheese, but it's not something I crave. I'd rather eat cheese on a pizza, or just straight up with some cured meat.

However, as a kid, it was often my standard order in restaurants, along with chicken fingers and Shirley Temples. Ah, to be a budding lush, oblivious to calories. I remember the thick, oily toast and oozy American cheese at Denny’s in particular. It was cut into two triangles and served with a pile of wavy-cut fries the same color as the toast. Maybe that’s why I’m not such a fan now.

But then fall rolls around, and I start thinking soups, and autumnal salads, and what goes better with those two things? You got it.

weeknight dinner: kale-ricotta pasta

Last week, I hiked up the front steps of my friend Adrienne's house and rang the doorbell. Somehow I was right on time (I always seem to be too on time), in spite of a late train and lugging a ton of stuff. My arms were loaded down with my purse, a tote bag full of cookbooks -- if you're a friend, you're getting cookbooks from me whether you want them or not -- and another bag with wine, a lush bunch of lilacs and various post-work items like a pair of heels and an empty Tupperware container. Living in New York makes you want to grow a third arm.

Although you'd think I was fully prepared for dinner at a friend's house or some sort of cookbook-reading, wine-drinking binge, I did not have my trusty camera on me. So I was not able to take a photo of the lovely dinner she made for us while also managing to keep an eye on the baby, walk two dogs around the block, set out some appetizers and pour us glasses of wine. I pitched in by petting one of the dogs and feeding her little daughter a dinner of applesauce, airplane-style, two things that I was delighted to do after a long day of work.

The photo above was taken at home, where I recreated the dish with my trusty assistant.

one-pan wonder

I haven't posted much lately because, frankly, there haven't been very many dinner parties to write about. We've been holed up on the couch with the dog, ordering in take out, having friends over for a drink before having dinner out somewhere. And having our usual weeknight eating-in-front-of-the-TV suppers. But warmer weather is here, which always renews my enthusiasm for being social. I'm not sure why -- shrugging off the hibernation mentality that comes with winter, I guess.

I did make something recently that would be perfect for a dinner party. It's chicken but it's not boring, there is minimal clean-up, and it's basically a one dish -- or pan -- meal. It's from a Bon Appetit story on "one-sheet" dinners and it's smart in a "Why didn't I think of that?" kind of way.

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.

mujaddara with spiced yogurt

While we're on the subject of weeknight dinners, I've got another gem of a recipe to share.

Lentils and rice might seem like the sort of thing you'd be forced to choke down at a vegan potluck or a hardcore yoga retreat. But when you add sweet, caramelized onions, a knob of butter, and a dollop of spiced yogurt on top, you'll find that they go down pretty easy.

The name of the dish, mujaddara, also lends a certain amount of exoticism. When you tell people that you're serving mujaddara for dinner, they'll most likely lick their lips. Saying "lentils and rice" probably won't elicit the same reaction.

crispy black bean tacos with feta slaw

Friday night is taco night at our house. Tacos (especially with a margarita) seem like a festive way to toast the start of two unencumbered days of freedom. They are also a good way to eat when it's the end of the work week and your fridge is looking a little bare. A win-win in my book.

What's inside the taco varies from week to week. I recently made some surprisingly excellent fish tacos (more on those later) or sometimes we go for the old ground beef-cheddar cheese childhood combo. But there's a black bean taco that's become a weekly staple. It's cheap, relatively healthy, and we usually have most of the components on hand, essential for those Friday nights when you're so fried from the week you can't think straight.

comfort food

Just because I blog about dinner parties doesn't make me a picky pants when it comes to food. When dining at someone's home, I'm probably the easiest guest at the table to please. You could serve me almost anything and I would gobble it up with pleasure and ask how you made it, where you found the recipe, and any other number of questions until you start to think twice about inviting me again. Being fed in someone's home is a very special thing. I am so excited when someone offers to cook for me that the food itself is almost secondary.

But if my friend Audrey is in the kitchen, it really is all about the food. Although her sparkling personality and sweet fiance Will don't hurt.

greatest hits

When planning dinner party menus, I usually gravitate toward new and untested recipes. Partially because I have a huge backlog of dishes I want to try, and partially because it gives me more fodder for this here blog. So I tend to experiment when friends come over, and reserve my favorite recipes for weeknight dinners. But sometimes you just want something you know is going to come out perfectly, either because you're short on time, or want to really wow the people you're feeding. Or in my case last Friday, both. 
 

In an effort to reclaim my weekends a bit more, I've started having people over on Friday nights--which seemed crazy at first, but it's actually not a bad way to go. On one hand, you have to be a bit more organized and plan ahead. I tidied up the house the night before, cleaning the bathroom, and setting out plates and glasses. On the other hand, people are so ready to unwind on a Friday night that they won't expect an elaborate spread.

For a dinner with some work friends, I made a seriously no-brainer menu of my favorite recipes: a salad of winter citrus, olives, and fennel, the truly fabulous Zuni Cafe roasted chicken and bread salad, some roasted veggies, and my favorite cake: torta di pere. This wasn't a simple menu exactly, but it was something I knew I could easily execute after a long day of work and a few glasses of wine.

A greatest hits list is something good to have up your sleeve when these situations arise or when you have the dreaded 'what am I going to make for dinner' brain freeze. Which happens to the best of us. And there's something sort of wonderful about having an arsenal of recipes at your fingertips. It's like that one outfit that always makes you look awesome, or the go-to cocktail you can always order at a bar.

What are your greatest hit dishes when entertaining? Please share in the comments.

Greatest hits menu
Cheeses
Salad of winter citrus, olives, and fennel
Zuni Cafe roasted chicken and bread salad
Roasted carrots and parsnips
Chocolate pear cake with whipped cream

mailbag: in search of kick ass pad thai

Dear Lisa,

I made Mark Bittman's pad Thai recipe a while ago and it sucked. I mean, really sucked. Too much fish sauce or something...it was inedible. Anyway, we have no good Thai restaurants where we live and I would love some shrimp pad Thai. I have all the ingredients, but am nervous to give it another go.  Any chance you want to take on my challenge to make a kick-ass pad Thai at home?

Love,
Pad Thai-Less in Vermont

First off, not to knock Mark Bittman, but I have had the same experience with some of his recipes. And so have other people I know. My mother-in-law, a fantastic cook and baker, screwed up a simple recipe for popovers because he didn't give correct baking instructions. (You put the popovers in a cold oven, then turn on the heat, Mr. B.) So don't feel bad, PTLIV, A.K.A., my friend Mindi.

Before attempting this dish, I had never made pad Thai from scratch at home. I've eaten it plenty of times in restaurants, tasty and gloppy versions alike. In my experience, pad Thai is not a uniform dish and it varies widely depending on the chef. Ideally, I wanted my homemade version to not be overly cloying or sticky, and to have some freshness from herbs and texture from eggs, peanuts, and the other typical add-ins.

While doing some research I came across Pim Techamuanvivit's (A.K.A. Chez Pim) recipe for "pad Thai for beginners." She says that there are four essential ingredients in pad Thai sauce: "tamarind pulp (for the sour flavor), fish sauce (for the salty part), palm sugar (for a slight sweetness), and paprika or Thai chili powder (for the spice)." She recommends making a big batch of sauce, then making each portion of pad thai to order, combining the noodles, sauce, and other ingredients in a wok. This method makes a lot of sense if you're feeding a crowd.

The second place I looked was an old favorite cookbook of mine, Vegetarian Planet by Didi Emmons. Her recipe, "Your Pad Thai or Mine" replaced the tamarind paste and palm sugar with lime juice and brown sugar. While her version didn't seem as authentic, I had all of the ingredients on hand, so I decided to give it a try on a Monday night after work.

Maybe if I had made this dish on a Saturday or Sunday night things would have gone a little differently. I quickly scanned the ingredients list and got to chopping. There's a lot of prep involved: cooking rice noodles, toasting and chopping peanuts, scrambling two eggs, mincing garlic, chopping scallions and cilantro. Then you whisk lime juice, brown sugar, fish sauce, and chile paste into a pungent sauce.

The kitchen counter was a mess (yes, that is my ENTIRE kitchen counter), but everything seemed to be coming together nicely. I sipped a glass of wine, thought about the annoying thing that happened that day at work, talked to Dan about the Mad Men finale, scrambled my eggs, re-checked the recipe, and then...wait? What? I need to mince some ginger? Okay, no big deal. A minute later, I distractedly dropped a carton of bean sprouts on the floor, then realized I forgot to julienne a carrot. Whew! 

Once all of the prep was done, I sauteed the ginger and garlic with the carrots, scallions, and shrimp, then added the sauce, eggs, and noodles. In the end, the pad Thai was not the end of me and I served it forth. Maybe a bit later than we typically eat dinner, but whatever.

The verdict? Interesting. It was much lighter than any pad Thai I've ever tasted. The sauce was subtle, and not as thick as usual. Because the sauce wasn't the main focus, each ingredient came through. I could taste the sweetness of the shrimp and eggs, the bright greenness of the cilantro and scallions, the acid from the lime juice. Perhaps a spoonful of tamarind paste would give this dish more complexity, but Dan and I liked my lightened up version very much.

One rule of advice: make your mise en place beforehand and double-check that you didn't miss anything. This recipe is all in the prep. Once you've gotten everything ready, the dish takes five minutes to assemble and serve. But if you forget to mince the ginger or julienne a carrot, you'll feel like you're stuck in an ingredient pile-up on the pad Thai highway.

Got a dinner party connundrum? Email me at lisadinnerparty(AT)gmail(DOT)com.

 Pad Thai
Adapted from Didi Emmons' "Your Pad Thai or Mine" in Vegetarian Planet. Emmons says: "Do not try to reheat this dish in the microwave. A friend of mine did, and it became a large and scary gelatinous glob of noodles that was absolutely inedible." So, you've been warned.
(Serves 4 people)

3/4 lb. dried rice noodles (the width of fettuccine or linguine)
¼ cup lime juice, or more, to taste (from about 3 limes)
3 Tbsp. fish sauce
2 1/2 Tbsp. brown sugar
1 to 2 tsps. hot chile sauce (I used a Thai chile paste, but I'm sure Sriracha would work too)
3 Tbsp. canola or corn oil
2 eggs, beaten
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 tsp. minced fresh ginger
1 carrot, peeled and cut into thin julienne strips
5 scallions, halved lengthwise, then cut into 2-inch lengths
1 cup mung bean sprouts
¼ cup dry-roasted, unsalted peanuts, toasted until golden, then chopped
¼ cup chopped cilantro
1 lime, sliced into quarters
1 lb. shrimp, cleaned, de-shelled, and de-veined

Cook the noodles in hot water according to the package directions, then drain them. (At this point you can store them, covered, for up to 24 hours in the refrigerator.) In a small bowl, combine the lime juice, fish sauce or salt, sugar, chile sauce, and 1 tablespoon water.

Pour 1 tablespoon of the oil into a large non-stick skillet, and cook the eggs over low heat, stirring with a wooden spoon. Once the eggs are barely cooked, transfer them to a plate.

In the same skillet (rinsed if necessary), add the remaining 2 tablespoons oil. Over medium heat, add the garlic and ginger. Sauté for about 30 seconds, then add the carrots, scallions, and shrimp. Sauté until the shrimp are pink, stirring frequently. Add the lime juice mixture, then the drained noodles. Cook the noodles, stirring constantly, until they are tender but still chewy, about 1 minute. Add a bit more lime juice, if desired, and the sprouts and the scrambled eggs, stirring well. 

Quickly divide the mixture among plates, sprinkle with the peanuts and cilantro, garnish with the lime slices, and serve.

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.

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.

on being fed

Life has got me feeling a little burnt out lately. Some nights when I get home from work I just feel like curling up in a ball. My friend Mindi said something recently about wanting to hide under a blanket with a glass of wine, and that sounds about right too.

When you're going through a rough time, having someone put a plate of food before you is like slipping into a hot bath. It is one of the most soothing, comforting things in the world. Especially when the food is made by someone you know. Going to someone else's house for dinner can be even nicer than going out to a restaurant because it's personal. It's not some anonymous chef in a kitchen churning out your supper. It's something cooked for you by your friend, your father, your wife, your grandmother.

So when our friends Jon and Lara emailed to invited us over for dinner, I think it may have taken me all of five seconds to reply "YES!!!" They couldn't have asked at a better time.

Had I known what an impressive spread they were going to make, I would have replied even sooner. Wow, what a meal. The prettiest little vegetables and bright yellow aioli, perfectly roasted Cornish hens, lamb and rice stuffing spiced with nutmeg and coriander. If someone served you this meal on Thanksgiving you'd be completely wowed.

After a few glasses of wine and an extra helping of stuffing, I was as happy as if it was an actual holiday. I stopped worrying about work, stopped thinking about what I had to do the next day, stopped thinking ahead and just relaxed into the moment. Sitting around a table in Jon and Lara's apartment, laughing at YouTube videos, and eating ice cream may be the highlight of this whole difficult month. There's nothing like a home-cooked meal to make you feel good all over again. Or at least until Monday rolls around. Thanks, guys.

Dinner at Jon and Lara's
Crudite and homemade aioli
Cheese and crackers
Kale chips
Roasted Cornish hens
Lamb and rice stuffing
Roasted brussels sprouts
Salad
Ice cream with chocolate sauce

recipe for a happy thursday

1 bottle of rose wine

Diana Ross and the Supremes on the stereo.

Toasted baguette slices topped with goat cheese, pear, black pepper, and basil. (Sorry, no photo. I was distracted and we ate them too fast. But you get the idea.)

A colorful bunch of snapdragons in a mason jar.

Salad niçoise, prettily arranged on a big platter and dished out (kind of sloppily) with a big spoon.

Franny's hazelnut gelato and chocolate sorbet from the very-cute Brooklyn Larder. Spendy ($9 a pint) but worth every spoonful.

A new friend across the table who also really enjoys dining in. You cozy up on the sofa together and somehow there are a million and one topics that must be discussed and you can't get the words out fast enough. And then 11:30 rolls around and it's a school night but you just want to keep talking, and who needs sleep anyway? Wouldn't it be great to stay up all night swapping stories and talking about family, and TV shows, and bad '90s-era music?

It was such an energizing evening that after the dishes were done, my teeth were brushed, and the lights were off, all I could do was lay in bed and smile up at the ceiling. I think I'm starting to get the hang of this weeknight dinner thing.

Salad niçoise
You can serve this in individual bowls or plates, but I think a big platter makes for a prettier and more dramatic presentation.
(Serves 2 people, very generously)

1 small head lettuce (I like red leaf or Boston), washed and torn into pieces
2 eggs, hardboiled, peeled, and sliced in half
1/2 pint cherry tomatoes, cut in half
1 handful olives
1 large handful green beans (or yellow wax beans), trimmed and steamed
1 handful red-skinned potatoes, steamed and halved
1 can good-quality oil-packed tuna (I like Tonno)

For the vinaigrette:
1/2 cup olive oil
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
1/2 lemon, juiced
1 Tbsp. Dijon mustard
1 clove garlic, minced
1 Tbsp. tarragon, minced (parsley or basil would be nice too)
salt and pepper

The only challenge in putting this dish together is cooking some of the components. I like to bring a large pot of water to a boil, and then cook everything in the same pot, removing each item when it is done. Usually, I put the eggs and potatoes in first, and after about five minutes of cooking, I add the beans for another three minutes. I remove the beans, and put them in an ice bath. When the potatoes are tender, I pour the potatoes and eggs out into another ice bath. When everything is at room temperature, you can add it to the salad.

For salad assembly, make a layer of lettuce on a platter, then top it with the ingredients, arranged in small piles or however you like. Whisk together all of the vinaigrette ingredients in a small bowl to make a dressing, then pour it over the salad. Serve immediately.

a good friend

Thinks that sandwiches are a perfectly acceptable thing to serve a guest for dinner.

Doesn't mind that you opened and drank half of the wine intended for tonight's dinner the night before.

Will eat olives straight from the plastic container, saving you a bowl to wash.

Doesn't mind that there are several gnats trapped in the apartment, circling around in the most maddening way.

Provides an extra set of hands to help make the sandwiches while you assemble a salad.

Doesn't mind polishing off the dregs of a pint of gelato, and calling that dessert.

Always brings good conversation and laughter to the table, which naturally makes any meal, however thrown-together, taste better.


Thursday night dinner with Mindi
Olives
Prosciutto, ricotta, and pesto panini
Arugula with mustard vinaigrette
Gelato (Key lime-graham cracker from Ciao Bella)

Dear friend, I'm going to miss our weeknight dinners (and drinks on the stoop, and holiday candy-making sessions, Sunday brunches, and picnics, and pedicures) so, so much. I always knew our friendship was a fortuitous thing, but I never realized how lucky I was that you've always been just a few subway stops away. It will be hard to get together for sandwiches on a Thursday night when you are living in another state, but we'll find a way to try.

Prosciutto, ricotta, and pesto panini
I don't own a panini press (my little kitchen can barely contain my essential pots and knives, let alone single-use gadgets) but I created the same effect with a makeshift press: heating the sandwich between two heavy pans.
(Serves two)

1 baguette, sliced lengthwise and in half
1/2 lb. prosciutto
1 cup ricotta cheese
1 cup pesto
olive oil

Coat the bottom of a large frying pan with a bit of olive oil and heat on medium-high heat. Assemble your sandwiches by spreading a layer of pesto on each piece of bread, then adding prosciutto and ricotta in between. Assemble the sandwiches, then place one in the pan. Place a large, heavier pan (like a cast iron skillet) on top of the sandwich, and press down. Don't press too firmly, or the sandwich will spill out its contents. Yuck. Hold the pan down for a few minutes, or until one side of the sandwich browns. Flip the sandwich and repeat the process. Then repeat the process again to make a second sandwich. Serve immediately.