French Press Memos

12 in 2012, including Sous Vide!

2012-01-12T23:12:00.001-07:00

I am not a fan of resolutions. I find it highly unrealistic to make sudden drastic changes, so I won't 'resolve.' I did, however, make a list of goals- one that I can look at on my vanity mirror every day to remind myself of the path I am hoping to walk on in 2012. And I wanted to share them with you.

Ditch the Jesus complex.

There is a weird trend in my head that urges me to perpetually try to save and change people. I can’t, I know that. But somehow I still try under the pretense that I need to know that I did all I could. No mas. I may love you and support you unconditionally, but I cannot save you- not this year.

Practice saying no more.

Compulsive volunteering, giving, accepting has been a lifestyle choice for me for as long as I can remember. Under the umbrella of Ask and you shall receive I always said yes whenever a helping hand was desired. 2012 is the time I tone that down to allow myself a new lifestyle, one where saying no is not a rare occurrence but just a rational decision.

Honor my priorities: my family.

It is easy to take the things you have for granted, to treat them like obligations, chores, things you have committed to and now must do. At the end of it all, the most important thing for me is my family and I know I have failed to treat my family with the joy and excitement it deserves. I want to be present, engaged, happy to have them in my life- even when I am down, hormonal, exhausted, or anything in between.

Publish more.

Last year, Dining Out Magazine, the Denver County Fair Cookbook, and the Gabby Gourmet replaced my previous writing life in the Colorado Lawyer and citable judicial opinions. In 2012, I am ready to face the pitch game again and submit my ideas with more focus, more intensity, without floundering around throwing stuff against the wall in hopes it sticks. I will pitch with intent and purpose after extensive research. Fingers crossed!

Allow myself to fail.

Whatever I do, I do 100% and until and unless I am ready to give it 120% I just don’t try. Unless I know I’ll make it, I won’t risk failure. So, this is the year in which I will pursue those projects that I have built in my head - the granola, some teaching, the new blog. And if they fail, I will be ok.

Take the leap to learn.

Nothing freaks me out more than new stuff, especially if it has buttons or any technology involved. The conundrum is that there is a good load of new stuff I’d like to know- SEO, photography, all the bells and whistles that I want on my website and blog. I need to plunge - take the leap and do it- learn it no matter how much my older-stuck-in-my-ways mind tries to hold me back.

Have a better relationship with my mother.

You know that typical let’s talk about your mother question? I thought that question was a joke until I thought about it myself and realized that there are issues, breaks, problems that I avoided for a while in that relationship. This year, I will make them better. Love you mama!

Read more.

If you asked me what is the one thing I wish I could do more of, I’d say read. It gives me the biggest joy. It is mine- just mine and I read just for me. Nothing is like it, but physical time and lack of energy keep me from it. I declare 2012 the year of 12 books to read. I know I can and I know I will love it. I just have to commit to it.

Forgive myself. No one is harder on myself than I am. I beat myself down, cast tremendous amounts of guilt onto my actions, and dwell on every misstep with great skill. Also, no one can hold a grudge against me better that I can. I can’t promise to do a 180 on all of this but I will do my best to give myself a break this year.

Go to Montreal and the French Laundry.

Montreal has been on our radar for a long time for its urban edginess, Pied du Cochon, Joe Beef, and French culture. We have talked and talked about going and the time has come. We're booked to go in February! As for the French Laundry, after cooking nearly every dish from the book, some many times, I really just have to go and see the place for myself. Soon...

Return to the professional kitchen for more. In the late summer, I started working in a professional kitchen a couple of days a week. I did this to practice, to learn, to get a feeling of how food is made in that setting, how it feels to be on your feet for that many hours, how it feels to have to do things a certain way, in a certain time-frame, while working in a busy environment. I loved it but stopped as my schedule got busy.
I did not get enough and no matter how much motivation it takes to go back, I want to do it.

Master this.

Santa, aka the husband, decided I was ready for the immersion circulator, and not just any one but the PolyScience. I have lots of work to do. I am intimidated and excited by the process but I started already - and I can't wait to share those experiences and the learning process with you.

What's your goal or resolution?

Make a Wish, Make It Happen

2012-01-02T22:20:00.002-07:00

Biting into what was supposed to be some of Denver's best fried chicken, I wished it away - another let-down. I wished it would have been brined. I wished the breading had some flavor, any flavor. I wished it was a tad saltier. I wished it had the guts not to have any breading at all aka Momofuku fried chicken. I wished I could close my eyes and exchange mediocrity for a mouthful of another one of David Chang's version of a dish that both breaks the rules and amazes the senses. Wishes don't always come true.

Last time I strongly wished something away and something else in return was on a trip to California. This was supposed to be relaxing. A weekend away - no kids, no husbands, no laptops- just my best friend and the Ace Hotel in Palm Springs. The mandatory spa moment arrived. Instead of that blissful glance at warm fine sand, a breeze over my mostly naked body, and tan and ripped massage therapist, I found myself in a motel room with Magda, a short stockey middle-aged Polish lady, wearing too much eye shadow. Staring at old carpet, shielding my eyes from the bright neon on a massage table that rhythmically shook to the beat of the techno blaring outside, I prayed for ear plugs or temporary loss of hearing.

The Ace, a former motel all hip-ified, was buzzed to be the place to see and be-seen. And it was- for a swarm of Jersey Shore refugees who paid the small fee to get into the mister-equipped pool, where a DJ was spinning live six hours every day. Extra bonus by the pool: ping-pong tables. The alleged spa consisted of the dumpy-70's-wanna-be-cool lockers, ridiculous robes, and a waiting room the size of a closet equipped with a noisy table fan.

There I was, naked under a thin sheet, with Magda bearing down on me. No escaping for 60 long minutes. I closed my eyes and made my wish. I tuned Magda out and channeled my crush into the room: Robert Downey Junior. Slowly, the thump of the techno base seemed to ease up. As strong hands ran up my tense shoulders, I almost felt his breath, heard his whisper, smelled his skin. Eyes closed, gentle prayers that Magda keeps quiet, I let the stress melt away, smiled at myself, and made my own wish come true.

It didn't work quite the same with the fried chicken. So I made it. The first dish of the year at our house and first blog post of 2012. What's your wish? And how are you going to make it come true?

Momofuku's Dreamy Fried Chicken

Ingredients: one whole chicken; 4 cups lukewarm water; 1/2 cup salt; 1/2 cup sugar; 4 cups grapeseed or canola oil; octo vinaigrette (recipe below).

Break the chicken down into 6 pieces: 2 legs, 2 wings, 2 breast halves. Combine the water, salt, and sugar and brine the chicken in it for at least one hour and no more than six.

Set up a steamer on the stove and steam the chicken on medium heat covered nearly all the way for 40 minutes. Chill it in the refrigerator on a cooling rack for at least two hours or overnight and remove 30 minutes before frying.

Heat the oil to 375 degrees and be sure there is enough oil to submerge the chicken pieces, otherwise cook in batches. Fry it, turning it once until the skin is deep brown and crisp, about 6-8 minutes. Remove to a paper towel-lined plate and drain. Toss with the vinaigrette and serve hot.

Octo Vinaigrette: combine 2 tablespoons minced ginger, 2 tablespoons minced garlic, 1/4 cup rice vinegar, 1/4 cup light soy sauce, 2 tablespoons grapeseed oil, 1 tablespoon sesame oil.

Make a wish! Make it Happen!

Happily Eating Ribeye

2011-12-20T00:00:00.002-07:00

He had her at charcoal grilled ribeye. She cut into the still sizzling steak, a perfect bite of mesquite-flavored Iowa meat, perfectly outfitted with nearly melted marbly-fat. It was a simple dish and a simple preparation but it revealed her future. The man knew his meat. He cooked. He walked two stories from his rented apartment to a cheap grill pilled up with hot mesquite coals thinking this was the only way to cook a well-selected cut. She thought that was the only way too.

Only six days earlier, the Prince picked up the foreign Princess in a bar. She still remembers what he wore, and what she wore. On that August night, in a place named Citrus that has since closed, the Prince walked confidently to the foreign Princess and asked her what language she was speaking. Young and anti-American, she tested both his patience and his knowledge replying "Romanian, and I bet you have no idea where Romania is." A couple of drinks in, uninhibited, he showed her he knew.They met the next evening, and every night until the ribeye. The morning arrived and off she jetted to the Motherland with a heavy heart and a burning desire for more ribeye. As he lost sight of her at the airport, he planned his journey. Days seemed like years, but less then three weeks later he landed in Bucharest. He was not going to leave empty-handed. After the ceremonious time with the family and visiting of the countyside, the duo decided to take a chance on each other.

Three months after the ribeye, and ten years today, the Prince and the foreign Princess drove to City Hall wearing jeans. With no pomp or fuss, they got married and told no one. A wedding, a baby princess, several graduations, some wars, many travels and countless meals together, they are still working on the life-long project called 'happily ever after.'

Happy 10th to the ribeye Prince. As for the rest of you, I dare you to top that story!

Alone, Never Lonely in My Kitchen

2011-12-15T10:37:00.004-07:00

I pressed the widest part of my knife onto the wooden cutting board and felt the peel ease off from the garlic clove. With the same motion, I gently smashed the rest of the cloves then peeled the skins off. The crush of the knife released the garlic oils onto my skin. I knew I'd smell it for hours. My feet ached from standing for too long, so I rocked my weight from one side to the other and kept on peeling. The olive oil coated the bottom of the pan and warmed gently, the garlic slowly started to cook before juicy fragrant tomatoes drowned them and stole their flavor, making it their own. And then it took hours, hours of patience, of stirring, of smelling, of taking it all in.

More than once I sat over a pot and hypnotized myself with the slow swirl of a wooden spoon inside the pot. I watched as kale shrunk down, polenta grains puffed up, tomato sauce thickened up, and tens of identically cut cubes of zucchini softened up. I live for the process and all the sensory experiences that came along with it.

The gentle bubble of a stew cooking calmly, pocket of air after pocket of air bursting into the most imperceptible sound. The sight of that elusive wave of steam disappearing into the air over a simmering pot. The hum of the fan inside the hot oven. The graceful dancer's move of the knife rocking back and forth, nose still on the cutting board, piercing a layer of pecans, inaudibly clanking on the wooden cutting board. The thrill of washing the blade of a sharp knife, tips of my fingers running slow strokes on its edge, trusting it won't hurt me. The scent of ground cardamon, grated nutmeg, minced ginger, crushed coriander- all strong enough to wake your senses, make you open your eyes a little wider to see what is going on around you.

Alone, but never lonely, I share my space with people I see in my dishes- in that red terrine dish I am crazy about, in the vinegar a special friend brought me, in the rose water I bought for a special recipe. I share my experience in the way I chop, in my commitment to straining, in my habit of rinsing rice three times before I cook it- never lonely.

This is an entirely selfish experience, one that makes a lot of sense around the holidays. Not one sound or distraction in the house, but the occasional look at my cell phone, I am in a space that is just mine. In silence, perfectly organized, cleaning continuously, peeling, searing, chopping, trussing, simmering or mixing, alone I am having my moment with cooking - my affair, my quiet time. I cook for me, for the process more than the result, for the experience more that the final product. And it works. Try it.

Tomato Sauce, a stress-relieving recipe

Ingredients: 1/2 cup olive oil; 6 cloves of garlic, peeled; two 28 ounce cans of San Marzano tomatoes; 1 teaspoon fine sea salt; 1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes.

Over a medium flame, warm up the olive oil in a saucepan. Add the garlic cloves and stir for about 10 minutes until the garlic softens and begins to color.

Pour the tomatoes in and stir the salt into the mixture. Let it simmer for about an hour over medium-low heat then crush the now-softened tomatoes in the pot with a masher or other similar object. Stir well and let it continue to simmer for about 3 hours. Pack it in your desire jars, keep it in the fridge for up to 4 days or frozen for a few months. Or use it as a gift.

Photography by Jennifer Olson.

Cookie Swaps or Not

2011-12-06T21:39:00.000-07:00

The beauty of the blog is that I get to make my rules. No editorial calendars, no word limits, no deadlines or harsh cuts and changes. I don't have to do anything. I don't include sidebars of ads because I couldn't stomach the thought of lacking control over it. I don't post more often because I obsess too much over what I write. And I never plug products or people I don't full-heartedly support because I don't have to.

I let my whims and my heart drive the content of the blog just like I let it drive most other parts of my life. I do what feels right and sometimes, like this time, that coincides with the possible editorial calendar. This week is all about cookies and cookie swaps, perhaps about homemade gifts. There are, however, problems with this- at least for me. I am not a baker - I am a cook. I am not a traditional cookie lover- I just don't get them. I am not a swapper - I am too afraid won't like what I get in return.

But as irrationally terrified as I am of baking, I am a homemade gift-giver and I always do it from the heart. So I set my heart on baking. I love biscotti and, unlike some real life relationships, it is mutual. Biscotti love me back - by which I mean they actually turn out when I bake them. More proof of this love affair: they turn out when I pull the rug from under myself and change the recipes. This time I wanted to focus on the ingredient I was obsessing over: peanut butter.

Make them, eat them, swap or gift them, but no matter what you do, do it from the heart.

Peanut Butter and Chocolate Chip Biscotti

Ingredients: 1/3 cup unsalted butter (room temperature); 2/3 cup freshly ground peanut butter, ½ cup sugar; 1 large egg; 1 ¼ plus 2 tablespoons flour; ½ teaspoon baking powder; a pinch of kosher salt; 1/3 cup Valrhona chocolate 70%, chopped coarsely.

Preheat the oven to 375ºF. In a large bowl, cream with an electric mixer the butter and sugar until it begins to stick to the bottom and sides of the bowl. Add the egg and mix well.

Over the butter/sugar mixture, sift the flour, baking powder, and salt. Bring it all together with your hands without actually working the dough. Gentle loving mixing motion - don't squeeze and don't manhandle.

Add the chocolate chips and keeping in mind that you are not trying to work this tender dough, knead again until just incorporated.

Place the mixture on a lightly floured surface and divide it into two halves. Form two logs from your dough and roll them to fit nearly the entire length of a cookie sheet. Place them on a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper.

Bake for 25 minutes and remove from the oven. Turn the temperature down to 300. Allow the biscotti to slightly cool then cut them diagonally into 3/4 inch pieces. Return them to the baking sheet and bake for another 15-20 minutes or until golden brown.

Pack them up and do what your heart tells you to do with them- sometimes it will tell you to just eat them, and that is alright too. Happy baking!

Photography by Jennifer Olson.

The Holiday Spirit

2011-11-29T21:36:00.006-07:00

The 'holiday spirit' is something we gently refer to in our house as that irresistible feeling that occurs early winter season that pushes one to be overly perky. The year the term was given this meaning, my husband had a particularly bad case of it. This consisted of entering Neiman Marcus and purchasing an exorbitant (and very chic) Gucci purse along with a variety of other 'smaller' gifts. We don't roll like that. It was the 'holiday spirit.' Shopping, however, is not the only manifestation of this impulse. It is the gift wrapping job gone Martha Stewart - handmade papers, thoughtfully paired dual ribbons and that extra little butterfly to tie it all together. It is the over-decorating of the house, where no inch remains untouched by the magic of ornaments, santa hats, pine cones, glitter, and reindeers. It is going carefully orchestrated holiday cards, christmas carols, sweater parties, and the like.

But back to gift-giving. The 'holiday spirit' did not send me to the mall. It pushed me to buy a ridiculous quantity of garlic to make confit for Christmas gifts. Garlic confit in a 4 ounce Ball jar like this one is a perfect treat and a secret weapon in any kitchen. The garlic confit is amazing spread on a baguette, part of garlic mashed potatoes, as a garnish on a dish main course, and in a dressing where both the garlic and the oil work well. Make a label for the jar, and perhaps include the recipe and suggested uses as a holiday card.

Garlic Confit

Ingredients: 1 cup peeled garlic cloves and 2 cups canola oil.

Cut off the root ends of the garlic cloves and discard. Place the cloves small pan and add enough oil to cover them by about one inch. The garlic should all be submerged in oil. Place the saucepan over low-medium heat (use a diffuser if you have gas stove and some extra attention if you have an electric stove).

The garlic should cook gently- small bubbles that do not break at the surface. Adjust the heat if needed and stir about every 5 minutes for a total of 40 minutes or until the garlic is completely tender when pierced with the tip of a knife. Allow to cool in the oil and store in an airtight container.

Place in your preferred jars, label, and gift away. Let the 'spirit' take over!

Photography by Jennifer Olson.

Shop Local: Holiday Food Guide

2011-11-25T00:00:00.002-07:00

A year ago I posted a local holiday food gift list here which I still love and encourage you to consult. I am back with more - 10 more - because Colorado local food can be amazing. In the last year, our food scene has gotten more vibrant- we are supporting food artisans, encouraging farmers, celebrating passionate cooks.

So this Black Friday, stay local in Colorado and keep it in (or around) the kitchen.

1. The Sweet Tooth: Hellimae's Salt Caramels

Why: Taste one and you won't have to ask why. They are outstanding, an addictive handcrafted combination of sugar and butter often infused with bold flavors like aromatic cardamom and deep coffee and a hint of sea salt that brings perfect balance to your bite. Ellen Daehnick works her magic in the kitchen and creates caramels that melt in your mouth in a chewy velvet form that always leaves you wanting more. Get the variety pack for a full experience.

Where: The Perfect Petal, Posh, The Truffle Cheeseshop, or the Hellimae's website with free shipping!

2. The Gift that Keeps On Giving: Farm Share at Cure Organic Farm

Why: Because whoever gets this will not only get to eat amazing food but they will get to do so for weeks on end next summer. Cure Organic Farm is the quintessential back-to-basics farm. Family-owned and operated, friendly, pure, natural, charming, this farm will win over even the biggest skeptics. The produce and meat coming out of Cure Farm is fabulous and their commitment to doing the right thing makes their food taste even better.

Where: Start on their website here. It may be that shares are not yet on sale. But you can always try to work with the owners to get a share secured or you can promise to try really hard to get on the coveted shares. It is worth the effort.

3. The Experience: Any Cooking Class with Mark DeNittis

Why: Because no object can replace this experience. Mark is a pro in butchering and meat processing and his personality and teaching style are both entertaining and approachable. You can learn to break down a whole hog, butcher a lamb, or make sausage, and no matter which one you choose, this adventure will be great. Extra bonus: you may actually leave the class with some meaty goodies.

Where: Try Cook's Street Cooking School - they have some good classes coming up with him. But don't limit yourself- Mark teaches other places too from time to time. Keep your eyes and ears open and book what works best for you or your special gift-worthy person.

4. The Book: Denver County Fair Cookbook

Why: Because it is a fun and useful cooking tool with recipes from some of the winners of the fair's competitions and because it is the first one of what will be an annual Denver tradition. Some day it might be worth a fortune! Also, you can find four of my recipes in it.

Where: On the fair's website - or with a fast click here.

5. The Kid Treat: the Wacky Apple

Why: Because it is fun to find a new product that is a total hit with the younger crew and that makes you feel good about what goes into the precious child. Wacky apple is organic and local, made with integrity from the highest quality . ingredients, the Wacky Apple is not only healthy but truly delicious. Certainly get the apple sauce, but don't miss the flat fruit (code for fruit leather) and the actual 'wacky' apple, a kid-size, cutie-like version of an apple that a little one can actually hold and finish.

Where: At your local King Soopers in the organic section, and select products in select Whole Foods stores. A full list of retailers is available here.

6. The Gift Certificate: Bayleaf

Why: Because this store is like a really fancy candy store for the food lover. It is stunning, filled with the latest and most desirable food books, carefully curated glassware and plate ware, and specialty food products that you may not be able to find anywhere else. Even the card selection is beautiful and the table cloth section brings the French Martha Steward out of anyone. Go now, and get a gift card for someone who will appreciate it.

Where: Boulder, on Pearl Street at 13th. (1222 Pearl Street, Boulder).

7. The Dish: Kazu Oba

Why: Because a beautiful serving dish can change your entire experience of eating a great meal. These Japanese ceramics are unique, handcrafted, artistic in a way that is warm, understated and irresistible. They are simple but deep, basic and functional but extraordinary in ways that make you not want to stop touching it, stunning in the way the look and the experience they provide.

Where: You can try here. Or look for Kazu at local art fairs. Or get a hold of him and ask where you can get this stuff; that's what I would do.

8. The Coffee: Boxcar

Why: Because Vajra Rich is the best coffee roaster in the state. At Boxcar, Vaj and his wife, Cara, take tremendous pride in the process of making coffee from bringing the best but also consciously and ethically sourced beans to roasting them in the highest-quality environment in stunning refurbished old German roasters. The coffee is smooth, deep, full-bodied, sophisticated and versatile- the perfect bag of beans. Start with the House Blend for drip or Stella for espresso.

Where: Get it in the ultra-charming coffee shop on Pearl Street (sharing a space with Cured, a cheese, meat & specialty store I adore!), at Crema in Denver, at the Frasca Caffe in Boulder, or order it online here. Bonus: if you go to the coffee shop you can get a ridiculous latte!

9. The Honey: Grampa's Honey

Why: Because it is the top of the honey in Colorado. This is like candy, like a dessert, a treat, a smooth escape that is actually healthy for you. I won't pitch you on 'eat local honey cause it has the best antibodies' thing because you know that already but this honey's qualities go beyond locality. This stands up to any honey anywhere in its flavor, texture, and versatility. Don't miss the white honey, a creamed variety that is better than any candy out there.

Where: Some specialty stores carry it - Marczyck Fine Foods, St. Killian's Cheese Shop, Cured Cheese Shop, Alfafla's- get it through Fooducopia's Denver Store or Door to Door Organics or order straight from the source here. Tip: you can order in bulk to make mass-gift-buying easier.

10. The Booze: Leopold Brothers

Why: Let me count the ways in which I love Leopold's Brothers: small batch, hand bottled, artisan process, carefully sourced ingredients, rounded flavors, clean taste, full bodied spirits, these men make incredible gin, outstanding whiskey, charming vodkas, seductive absinthe verte, and a variety of liquoers that taste like what God wanted fruit to be, a perfect concentrated flavoring to a great spirit. They have a bottle for everyone but my favorite is still the gin, with the Blackberry liqueur as a close second.

What: At any respectable liquor store. There is a list of places that carry it here or you can order it online from one of these retailers.

Happy local shopping!

Sweet Thanksgiving

2011-11-21T10:23:00.005-07:00

I remember my first Thanksgiving - ten years ago- like it was yesterday. We spent it in Aspen with Kyle's mother. I barely knew her. Her husband, David was there too and Kyle's sister's boyfriend Neil- never met either before. Neil was memorable for his Brussel sprouts, prepared the good old British way. He is also memorable because, being not-American, he was somewhat of a stranger to the entire tradition too; that gave me comfort.

I wasn't sure what to expect. The food was not exactly the holiday fare back in the motherland. The turkey - I supposed - was like a mammoth chicken chosen likely for its size and the ability to feed a large crowd rather than its taste. The stuffing I did not understand but came to enjoy quickly for its amazing ability to absorb all fat and flavors- and for the mere fact that it is bread, which I love. What else was there? The braised Kale was neither pleasant nor objectionable. The gravy - I tolerated. The pie was fine- the apple I could relate mostly to, the pumpkin seemed odd. I could not stomach two things: cranberry sauce and sweet potato mash. I didn't get it - at all. Cranberry sauce I still don't get. The sweet potatoes had a breakthrough.

I don't give up- on people, goals, or sweet potatoes. I tried again and again. First problem: they are ugly, mutant/tumor-like ugly. Second problem: the sweet potato mash is just not right- mushy not matter what, sticky, unpleasant texturally. The gateway into liking them was sweet potato chips - perfect texture and flawless balance of sweet and salty. It was texture that bothered me the most in the mash and attracted me the most in the chips so I played with the ugly sweet potatoes- perfect cubes, butter, sage, and a hot oven. I found a way to love them.

I am thankful for giving sweet potatoes a second chance- because these ones are amazing. And I am thankful, of course, for more important things: my beautiful daughter Louise and my incredible husband Kyle, my mom with all her flaws, and Beth - the best friend I can ever imagine. I am thankful for dancing, singing, and writing, for challenges and dreams, smiles and sunshine, patience, persistence and forgiveness. I am thankful that I get the chance to cook food others love and that I can still find immense joy in the little things like a clean and organized pantry. I am grateful for good books, nice cheeses, good coffee, and genuine people who follow their passion. I am grateful for love and commitment and for trying harder no matter what. And I am thankful for you- the readers who come back and listen to me over and over again: thank you!

Sweet Potato Remix, my interpretation for Thanksgiving

Ingredients: 3 large sweet potatoes, peeled and cubed perfectly (you will end up with a lot of 'trim' but it is worth it); 6 tablespoons butter; 2 bushy springs of sage, leaves picked and chopped finely; salt and pepper to taste, grated parmesan for serving.

Preheat the oven to 300 and place the sweet potatoes in a roasting pan than can hold them snug but in a single layer. Put the butter in a pan over medium heat. The butter will melt, then bubble, then brown. As soon as it browns, quickly stir the finely chopped sage in and remove from the heat. Pour the melted butter over the sweet potato cubes and stir to coat them well. Sprinkle salt and pepper to taste and roast for about 40 minutes or until slightly crispy on the outside and soft on the inside.

Serve with grated parmesan, another pinch of salt, and a little fresh ground pepper. Happy Thanksgiving.

Photography by Jennifer Olson.

Happy Pleasing Birthday - Corn Ice Cream

2011-09-28T00:00:00.001-06:00

I am a pleaser- I always have been and always will be. I remember everything - because I care. I will call you on your birthday even if we haven't talked since...well, last year on your birthday. I will remember your first and our first everythings- because they are special to me. I will ask for your advice not because I am lost and not able to make a decision but because I value your opinion and want to hear it before I leap into anything. And I will cook for you if I love you. I will cook your favorite dish, and any other dish you request, look at longingly, or hint at wanting.

Exactly a year ago I turned 30. I was in a good place: a happy family, a good job, supportive friends, fun things like the blog, salsa dancing, and a medley of volunteer activities. I seemed to be pleasing a lot - others and myself. I knew turning 30 was going to cause me to rethink things. I wanted to make some changes. I wanted to be thinner. I wanted to love what I do every day- not just tolerate it. I wanted to enjoy my time with my family more. I wanted to focus on people that actually made my life richer. I succeeded and failed at all. I am thinner. I quit my job; I still don't love what I do with all of my days. I enjoy my daughter more than I ever have. I still spend some of my time on people who bring me down. I am still struggling to find the balance, to find my place. I always will.

But I did find one insanely happy calming place: the kitchen. Not even my kitchen but the kitchen I have been staging in for the last 5 weeks. I do not fit in - at all; I never will but that is a story for another day. Right now, that kitchen is quiet and exciting. It challenges me and stills me at the same time. It can make me smile and put me on the verge of tears in a minute's span. It thrills and terrifies me. And most precious of all- it teaches me- so much - about food, about people, about myself- my limits, my energy, my weaknesses, my drive. Nothing pushed me this hard and elated me this much all at once. It pleases me - and it teaches me to please others through food.

Pleaser that I am, I kicked and screamed and threw a bit of a fit about how I am not into the idea of corn ice-cream when my husband asked for it. And then I did it. And it was delicious! So- happy birthday to me and all pleasers of the world! Keep doing your pleasing work - I will too. And get a batch of ice-cream going while you're at it!

Colorado Corn Ice Cream - Batali's adapted recipe

Ingredients: 2 ears Munson Farm sweet corn, husked; 1 and 3/4 cups of whole milk; 1/2 cup heavy cream; 1/2 cup sugar; 4 large egg yolks; 1/2 teaspoon salt.

Slice the kernels of the cobs and place in a pot along with the cobs broken up in 2 or 3 pieces. Add the milk and bring to a simmer. Cover and let steep for 45 minutes. Remove cobs and buzz the kernels with immersion blender. Strain through a coarse strainer and make sure you have 3 and a half cups of liquid. If not, add milk.

Combine the milk, cream, and all but 2 tablespoons of the sugar. Bring to a simmer to melt the sugar. Meanwhile, whisk the yolks with the remaining 2 tablespoons of sugar and the salt in a heatproof bowl. Begin tempering the eggs by adding small amounts of the hot milk and whisking. I like to add about 2/3 of the liquid to be safe. Return the mixture to the saucepan and cook over medium heat stirring constantly with a wooden spoon until it reaches 185 degrees on an instant-read thermometer.

Strain through a fine-mesh strainer immediately and chill over an ice bath until cold, stirring occasionally. Refrigerate overnight (texture improves so much) and freeze in your ice cream maker. Serve soft. Keep up the pleasing!

Photography by Jennifer Olson.

Cianfotta, Like You and I

2011-09-11T23:27:00.000-06:00

Analogies run wild in my head. Thoughts run on parallel tracks, fast, furious, finding connections, similarities, associations. Writing, living, cooking always interconnect in my head in the strangest ways. I see the common threads - and sometimes, I need to release them from my head.

Take this soup - Summer Vegetable Cianfotta. Italian: tasty, capricious, never precise. Seasonal, of course. A stew of everything in the late-summer garden, Cianfotta is like every person in your life, a combination of things, a mixture that is overall soothing and satisfying, but flawed, distressed, imperfect. Its depth comes from the prosciutto brodo, but you can't really identify it readily. It is there- if you know about it, it's easy. If you don't, you mind never figure out it existed and even if you do, you might not figure out where it came from- the same as in most people.

The ingredients, like human traits, are a mixed bag. Some you love, others you can't stand. You don't like eggplant. Well, there's eggplant. Summer squash is not your thing- keep chewing. You only eat squash blossoms raw - suck it up. It is the combination that is charming, the good, the tasty, the quirky, the imperfectly flavored or textured.

When I made this soup I thought of acceptance - accepting all that makes a person what that person is, each ingredient that may individually mean nothing blends into one combination that creates a human, one that is perfect and insanely flawed at the same time. I thought of being accepted exactly the way I am: quirky, giving, straight-forward, overbearing, funny, high-strong, kind, relentless, patient, impatient, driven, aggressive, soft, harsh, loving, forgiving, accepting. I thought of accepting myself for what makes me- me- good and bad things, some I can control, some I can't, some I want to change, some I like exactly the way they are.

Writing tonight became more about accepting more of those around me with all they bring to my life- good, bad, painful, and joyful. Invariably I find something to dislike in everything and everyone, but tonight I need to look on the bright side, to savor the flavors I love and mute the ones that bruise my heart. That's all - for now.

Summer Vegetable Cianfotta, an A16 adapted recipe

Ingredients: 1 small eggplant, 2 small summer squashes, 2 small zucchini, all trimmed and diced; 3 yukon gold potatoes, cubed; 1 fennel bulb, feathery parts removed, cored and thinly sliced; 1 1/2 cups olive oil; 5 cloves of garlic, smashed and peeled; 4 sprigs marjoran; 2 bay leafs; 2 cups prosciutto brodo; 1 cup cherry tomatoes, stemmed and halved (or any other tomatoes you have around); 3-4 zucchini blossoms, thinly sliced; pecorino cheese for shaving.

Make the Prosciutto Brodo first. Easy- just takes patience - same way as most people.

Ingredients: 8 ounces prosciutto hock, diced; 3 quarts water.

Simmer slowly, uncovered, for about 2 hours, or until the fat from the prosciutto melts into the liquid. Freeze what you don't plan on using in 24 hours.

For the soup, preheat the oven to 300 F. Distribute the eggplant and zucchini on a baking sheet and sprinkle with salt. Let stand for 20 minutes and then drain all the juices off and pat the veggies dry.

In a large heavy-bottomed pot, combine olive oil, garlic, marjoram, and bay leafs and sweat over medium heat, stirring for about 3 minutes or until the garlic softens. Add the fennel and a healthy pinch of salt and cook gently until the fennel softens. Stir in the potatoes and cook for about 3-4 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Add the zucchini, squash, and eggplant and coat everything evenly with oil. Cover and place in the oven for about 45 minutes. Stir every 10-15 minutes. Remove from the oven, drain most of the oil, add the brodo and simmer on the stove for about 5 minutes.

Add the blossoms and tomatoes and cook for one more minute. Check for seasoning and serve. Take it all in. Enjoy!

Photography by Jennifer Olson.

On Loss and Support - and an Auction

2011-08-26T14:26:00.001-06:00

You do not understand. Neither do I. You have no way of understanding what someone is going through day-to-day or in critical circumstances. The more you accept that you can't understand, the better support system you will become and the more rewarding you will find the relationship. Don't pretend to understand - empathize but acknowledge that you will never fully get it.

On August 7, a Sunday, Jennifer Perillo of In Jenny's Kitchen- wife, mother, writer, cook, and so much more- lost her husband. Suddenly, outside, his heart stopped beating. No warnings, no signs - a brusque and brutal change in reality. Two little girls lost their father - Isabella is 8, Virginia is 3. Jennifer and Mikey spent the last 16 years of their lives together. And on a Sunday evening, the routine of a beautiful family came to a screeching halt. For them, a time to mourn. For us, a time to reflect and ponder how to best help.

I don't know what Jennifer Perillo is going through. I can imagine it is the seven rings of hell. I can imagine it is heart-wrenching. I can imagine it is crushing. I can imagine that she is hopeless in a time where she needs to be stronger than ever for her children. I can imagine she wants to die to be with her soulmate but she can't because her other two soulmates, her daughters, count on her now more than ever. I can imagine that she is looking lovingly on her life with Mikey and mourning all the years they will not have together. I can try to empathize, but I will never know what is in her heart.

Over 15 years ago, on a Sunday night, I was making out with my first boyfriend at a movie in Bucharest. I can't remember the movie. I remember where we were sitting and what I was wearing. We walked home and he left. My father had been in the hospital for a week. I did not visit him - a weird situation brought on by my parents separating, teenage stupidity, and a mother that thought it was best to 'protect' us from such situations. I was in the living room on a brown leather couch with my mom and brother then 13 years old. We were watching TV. The phone rang. My mom got up to answer. I felt a knot in my stomach. I couldn't see her face but I heard a quiver in her voice that gave it away. I knew. She turned to us and told her two children- your father died. He was 39, pancreatic cancer- undiagnosed until it was much too late. There is no way for me to explain that loss. You will never know what was in my heart- what is still in my heart. I never liked to talk about it- I still don't and streams of tears run down my face now so violently that I wonder why I even started to write this.

I knew that day that nothing could replace what I lost. I knew that my life would be fundamentally different. I knew that he wouldn't see me graduate from high school, college, and law school. I knew he would not walk me down the isle. He wouldn't guide my little brother to his teenage years. He wouldn't spend one more holiday with us. I knew he wouldn't hold his grandchildren. And that was the biggest lost- at 15 - and now- I found it unbearably tragic that my children would never get to know him.

I never got to say I am sorry one more time. I never got to say I love you one more time. But I committed - never to refrain from saying I love you, never to postpone saying I am sorry, never to take people, days, and moments for granted. This loss softened my heart forever and pushed me to be more accepting and more grateful for the good in life and people. And today, it pushed me to ask you to help - help Jennie and her daughters.

The food and blogger community united to support them. Support came in many forms and more is pouring in. I want to be part of that. I want you to be part of it to. I want her to know, and her daughters to know, and Mikey to know that even though she feels irrecoverably lonely, she is not alone. But how to help, you ask?

Start by bidding on this new copy of AdHoc at Home signed by Thomas Keller. I am auctioning a copy that I bought and had signed over a year ago. When I got it, the thought was to do a giveaway on my blog. It never felt right and I know why - it was waiting for this. The starting bid is $75 and the auction will end Tuesday at 9pm Mountain Time. To bid, leave a comment on the section below (be sure I have an email address). Please share this with your friends to get the bidding process going!

100% of the winning bid will go to A Fund for Jennie - a project started by Bloggers without Borders to provide this family with financial support after this loss. And if you're not into the book donate directly to this fund right here: Bloggers without Borders.

Hug your loved ones closer, be sweeter to those you care about- treasure and cherish them each and every day. And help Jennie now.

What Dish Are You? Me, Today: Snap Pea Salad

2011-07-21T23:39:00.001-06:00

What dish would you be on this menu? the woman at a table next to us asked her waitress. I wasn't listening in, but I heard that question and perked up. The waitress took a second but responded confidently- the house-made cavatelli: ricotta dumplings with chicken sausage, wilted greens and sage.

I loved the question and proceeded to think about what dish I would be. Not on that menu, but in life. Beef Bourguignon, the Thomas Keller version I concluded- a recipe that takes no less than a day and a half to make, not including the stock. It is simple but technical, bright but basic, complex but fresh, traditional, but deep. It is sufficiently pretentious in its preparation but at its core just a hearty comforting dish.. I make it, eat it, and identify with it.

Now, here is how my mind works... If I am a dish, this dish, then I interact and match with compatible dishes. Which are, what? And are those around me easily identifiable with those dishes? And what if they are not? Are we doomed? Will those relationships not work for the same reason that beef bourguignon doesn't work with kimche? Some answers came out of this string of questions.

First, this blog is about analogies- food analogies in particular. I have struggled to put my finger on what I am trying to say sometimes but I think I nailed it. In my universe, everything in life has a food analogy. It simply works that way. The stories and recipes blend together like a dish does- sometimes better than others, always trying to achieve the right balance of flavor, texture, and quantity.

As for the dish, I am not just Beef Bourguignon. No, no one is just one dish. If we were, relationships would never work. I love beef bouguignon but feeding it to my husband for the last ten years? And planning to continue the regimen as long as we both shall live? That sounds like cruel and unusual punishment.

I often made excuses for people leaving their partners based on chocolate. The rationale was: you can have the finest truffles from La Maison du Chocolat but every now and then you'll just crave a snickers bar. Are you following? That was my error and I stand corrected. I am not just one dish, or one chocolate. Hopefully no one is just one dish.

And if I were a dish today, I'd be this one!

Snap Pea and Fennel Salad

Ingredients: 1/2 pound snap peas; 1 medium fennel bulb; 1 medium shallot; 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil; salt and pepper to taste.

Wash the snap peas. Cut them lengthwise into thin strips, almost thinner than match stix.

Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Add enough salt to the water enough to make it taste like the ocean. Put the snap peas into a strainer and dip the strainer into the boiling water, keeping them contained to the strainer. Boil for about a minute and transfer into an ice bath. Strain and place in a bowl.

Shave the fennel thin on the mandolin [watch your fingers!]. Mince the shallot. Mix the fennel and shallots into the bowl holding the snap peas. Sprinkle salt and pepper to taste and add the olive oil. Mix it together and serve.

It should be bright, crunchy, fresh, and surprising- exactly how I feel now!

Photography by Jennifer Olson.

Fry This, Not That

2011-07-15T21:17:00.003-06:00

I know you like it fried. Just own up to it- it's ok. It seems like everyone is frying just about anything. You name it, people fry it. Fried spaghetti, fried snickers bars, fried avocados, fried watermelon, and even fried kale. From the weird to the ridiculous, all seems to go into hot oils of various varieties. I like it fried too - of course.

When I decided to share some favorite fried treats, the freakishly popular Eat This, Not That came to mind. I don't understand the popularity behind that book, but I love to play with words so here is my own trend - Fry This, Not That. It should be at least as popular!

First edition: zucchini pancakes, not potato pancakes.

The potato pancake is a staple of Jewish cooking and a no brainer for frying lovers. Back home in Romania, I grew up with a different version of potato pancakes. Mine were always made of zucchini. Light, airy, fluffy, and still fried. I am not a calorie-counting hound these simply taste better and are better for you. And did I mention they are still fried?

Zucchini Pancakes

Ingredients: 2 medium zucchini, grated; 1 small yellow onion, finely diced; 2 tablespoons flour; 2 eggs; salt and pepper to taste; canola oil for frying.

Grate the zucchini and let them sit for 10 minutes. Drain the water the accumulated and squeeze more water out of them either with your hands or by pressing on them with a large spoon or ladle.

Add the onion, flour, salt and pepper, and the well-beaten egg. Mix it all together.

Coat a large frying pan with canola oil and turn on medium heat. When the oil is hot, spoon the zucchini mixture in and flatten in into a disc of 2 to 3 inches diameter. Adjust the heat if needed.

Let them cook until golden brown and flip them on the other side. Fry until they match the color of the first side.

Serve with a spoonful of Sriracha sauce if you like it hot too!

Photography by Jennifer Olson.

Time, Raspberry Jam

2011-07-02T22:48:00.001-06:00

More than once I wanted to rant on having time. My day has come. With a long weekend ahead, a month since quitting my job, and recent murmurs in my life about who has time and who doesn't, I feel like the moment is ideal.

Time, my friends, is a finite resource. No matter how you spin it, there are still 24 hours in a day, 7 days in a week. No matter how many activities you try to fit in, there is still a need for sleeping and a necessity to hold a job (for most of us). Time doesn't stretch. It is not elastic, malleable, or flexible. It ticks away in the same 60 beat per minute stroke regardless of how much you try to pack in.

So when it comes to cooking, or writing, or working out, or freaking crochet, nobody really has time and everybody actually has time. The people I am surrounded with have busy lives, each hour packed tightly, no minutes to spare, no time to breathe. There is no time for discretionary activities yet we still engage in them. Funny dilemma. How do we do that? Ready? We make time, the time we have already. We take time away from some things and dedicate it to others. We make time to see our friends and loved one, make time to keep commitments to certain activities, and make quiet time for ourselves to maintain our sanity. I don't have any more time than anyone else. I have the same 24 hours each day. How I use them is where the making time comes in.

I realized that the last month I wrote less on the blog than probably ever before. Did I not have time? Didn't I just make a whole bunch of time by quitting my job? Sure I did. But I didn't make it for this. I made it for other things. I made time to meet Pamela from MyMansBelly in Boulder. I made time to cook a whole lamb for Lulu's third birthday party. I made time to stroll the market with friends and impart each detail of braising beef. I made time for mid-day margaritas with Colorado Foodie Fest and late night drinks at Aspen Food and Wine.

And today, I made time to share with you the best I could come up with color-wise for the upcoming holiday- Raspberry Jam. It is not just the color that made me pick this today, of course. Jams are among those things that stir the flattering but annoying question 'God, how do you have time to do this?' I don't. I make it the time and the jam. So could you. Here's how.

Raspberry Jam, a recipe from an old grumpy aunt in Romania

Ingredients: 4 cups raspberries; 1 cup sugar; 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice.

Wash and paper towel dry the raspberries. Put the raspberries in a saucepan and pour the sugar over them. Mix the sugar into the fruit well as to help them macerate. Let them sit for 1 hour.

Place them over medium heat and stir every couple of minutes to allow the sugar to melt and the raspberries to begin releasing some moisture. Adjust the heat down if necessary and cook for about 10 minutes. Add the lemon juice and keep cooking. If you wondered why there is no pectin, it is because fruit produces pectin naturally and I just despise the use of the powdered stuff. The jam is flawless without it.

The berries will get pretty soupy. Keep stirring and cooking gently over medium heat. Time truly depends on your berries- some are very juicy, some are more dry. The juicy ones will take longer to cook to the consistency you want. Time also depends on your preference for consistency. My test has always been putting a drop of the syrupy part of the jam on a clean plate- if it holds its shape (not hard as a rock, but not too soupy), it is ready.

Place the jam in small sterilized jars. Run a butter knife along the sides of the jar all the way down to remove any air bubbles. Seal the jars and submerge in boiling water (water should cover by at least one inch). Boil for 20 minutes. When cool, push the middle of the can top in. If it comes back up, the jar was not properly sealed, which really just means you should refrigerate the jam. You can also reseal and reboil.

Serve the jam in your favorite way or just slather thin slices of baguette with homemade butter and top with a good generous serving of jam.

Photography by Jennifer Olson.

Merguez, Memories

2011-06-12T21:33:00.005-06:00

My obsession with lamb spans over my entire life, and I have strong reason to believe I've passed it on to the next generation. [Lulu wasn't walking when this picture was taken]

There is no meat like it - flavorful, delicate, versatile. It is native to Romania and, as luck would have it, native to Colorado. The best restaurants in the country from New York to San Francisco feature prominently Colorado lamb, often rack, proclaiming it the best. Which brings me to the puzzle my mind goes through every time I see New Zealand lamb at my local Whole Foods, but that is a story for another time.

Every Saturday from spring to fall, I head up to Boulder to the market. There is one stand I hit first - Leistikow Farms. And for good reason: they have lamb. Amazing, beautiful, flavorful, tender Colorado lamb. I stock up each week fearful that the next week they won't be here, or they won't have what I need, or I won't be able to make it, or there will be a Lambaggedon and no lamb will be out there available for consumption, all of which seem like a major tragedy.

Nearly a year ago, Tom Colicchio used lamb shoulder in a cooking demonstration at Aspen Food and Wine. He made merguez, and his recipe was shared in the Tasting Notes festival book. I made it, several times, and loved it. It is a classic, simple yet complex, a staple of Northern African cuisine that seems to transcend seasons- it just tastes great no matter when you make it. I made it now to soothe my absence from the incredible event that is Aspen Food and Wine. I'm a tad bitter to stay home,I won't lie. My money is on lamb to soothe me through the bitterness.

Merguez, a Tom Colicchio recipe, adapted.

Ingredients: 2 lbs boneless lamb shoulder; 8 ounces pork fatback; 4 teaspoons kosher salt; a healthy pinch of hot pepper flakes; 4 ounces piquillo peppers, drained and minced; 6 large garlic cloves, peeled and roasted; 2 teaspoons smoked paprika; 2 teaspoons dried oregano; 2 ounces harissa (you can buy it or make your own; plus more for serving); 2 ounces dry red wine; 2 ounces sherry vinegar. [Makes: a lot- enough to feed 4 easily.]

Cut the lamb shoulder and fatback into small cubes. Keep them as cold as possible. Grind them through a meat grinder adjusted to the largest setting. I would run it through the grinder twice and consider your preference for texture- if you like it less coarse, grind it finer.

Toss the ground mixture with the salt, pepper flakes, roasted garlic, piquillo peppers, smoked paprika, dried oregano, and harissa until combined.

Transfer the mixture to a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment and add the vinegar and wine. Whip the mixture until it is uniform in texture.

Form it into your desired shape- patties, balls, or sausage and roast or saute until cooked through. Serve alongside a healthy scoop of harissa, ideally with couscous or a homemade fresh flatbread.

Photography by Jennifer Olson [minus the blurry picture of my child]

Big Change, Great Cocktail

2011-06-05T20:27:00.001-06:00

I should have known something was not right when I developed a pita chip addiction. Every day, around 10 am, I took the elevator up two floors, turned two corners, and found myself in front of the vending machine, $1.25 in hand. I hit A6 and waited for the double metal ring to unwind around the bag of Stacey's Pita Chips that was soon make its way down. I was always nervous it would get stuck and I'd end up hopelessly trying to shake the immovable vending machine. I sat down in a booth in the cafeteria and crunched on my chips, savoring them one by one, slowly, while browsing the local newspaper. Then I went back two floors. I sat once more in front of my side-by-side computer screens, in my ergonomic office chair, under a gigantic double strip of neon lights, trying to fend off an ever-growing stack of legal documents while cuddling a portable heater that perennially lost the battle with the air conditioning.

Let's back up a little. At some point in my childhood, I announced my future: I was going to be a lawyer. (Should one allow a 6 year-old to issue such edicts?) I followed through and made good on my promise. I fought my way through setbacks, changes, transatlantic moves, grad school in a foreign language, and there I was - finishing law school. I had a baby, passed the bar, and worked three years in the legal world. And here I was now, in front of the vending machine, with my bag of pita chips. Was I even hungry?

Going up and down those two floors, I wasn't thinking of how to better write my next memo, where to find the next best research tool, or what order to arrange my argument in. No, other thoughts occupied my head, thoughts of braised beef cheeks, roasted beets, and the smooth asparagus soup, of farmers markets, wine dinners, and craft cocktails, of maldon salt, szechuan pepper buttons, and sweet pimenton. One step away from my desk, the thoughts of law vanished.

So the battle began. In my head, that is. It started with frustration over my lack of time to pursue that smooth asparagus soup. Then continued with the burden of twenty years of education aimed at one goal: being a lawyer. (I am still trying to erase thoughts of student loans, a bad subject). Back and forth went my thoughts between what I have invested my entire energy into for as long as I can remember and what happens to be my passion now. I cried. More than once. I tried to pretend the internal conflict did not exist. I tried to fix it, to fit it all in, to make the two competing worlds live together. I did not succeed. The lawyer me lost, the food-obsessed me won. At least for now.

What does that even mean? I decided to test out new waters, scary uncertain ones for a control freak like me: food, writing, cooking, freelancing in a a variety of new ways. It will take me time to accept, to transition, to change. I suck at change. The first step was the hardest. Breaking the news- to my boss, to my co-workers, to my mom, to the rest of my family, to friends, neighbors, acquaintances, to all the people who thought I was a lawyer -- and now to all of you: I quit my job. Yes, up and left (with considerable notice). I am not seeking or pursuing another legal job, at least for now, at least for a while. I will instead focus on cooking, writing, sharing what I know and learning more about food- working with it and around it in any way I can.

I am thrilled and mortified at the same time. I am cautiously ecstatic. I feel vulnerable, but at the same time am energized with what is coming my way- freedom to explore, to fail, to change, to attempt, and to succeed. I have a great support system in my life and for that I am thankful. I need it. And, of course,I need you. I need your help and your support on this new journey. I need you to come back, to tell me what you like and what you don't, to support my facebook page, to share my site with friends, to tell them about my writing, my recipes, and my cooking.

I want you to celebrate with me. Whether you remember or not, I am on a drinking kick. Not the getting-wasted-and-begging-for-salvation-during-a-monster-hangover kind, but the kind in which I try new drink recipes, from very talented drink-makers. Like this one- the Summer in the City. Not long ago, the badass talented (and intimidating - at least to me) Sean Kenyon mixed this up for me. For me, and for you of course because the goal was to create a post around it.

How to bring this recipe to you was the source of some debate in my head. I wanted to give Sean what Sean deserves, which is the full spotlight. I wanted to highlight him and the amazing crew at The Squeaky Bean. I wanted to tell you why they are my favorite people to share an evening with, to try to explain the magic they create there. Instead, I decided to be selfish and share my big news along with their drink. It makes it more special- to me at least. But if you are in Denver, do visit them until the 12th and don't miss the upcoming incarnation and rebuild of the Bean- The Occidental, coming up in July. They are genuinely amazing folks, and they will make you night (and day) a lot more pleasant.

Summer in the City, Sean Kenyon @TheSqueakyBean

Ingredients: two 1 by 1 inch cubes of fresh pineapple; 5 leaves fresh sage; 2 ounces Leopold gin; 1/2 ounce fresh squeezed lemon; 1/4 ounce agave nectar; 2 dashes agnostura bitters.

Muddle the pineapple, then tear 4 of the leaves into the glass. Add the remaining ingredients and shake with ice for a good minute. Pour over fresh ice and garnish with the remaining leaf.

Photography by Jennifer Olson.

Read Now: How Italian Food Conquered the World

2011-05-30T16:05:00.001-06:00

Any food writer knows who John Mariani is. Much-loved folks in the industry have mixed feelings toward him. I had just read Mariani's blunt review of Grant Achatz's new memoir, Life On The Line, and all the back-and-forth that ensued following that (like this article and this oneand this one). I also had just finished Bourdain's Medium Raw; there were no nice words for Mariani there either. And I had SaltySeattle's tweet stuck in my head; she declared : "he is a self-aggrandizing idiot who lives under a rock." I do respect Achatz. And Bourdain. And love Linda.

I was now curious. I am intrigued by a controversial character. I have a special place in my heart for talented people who are unaffected by criticism. And I respect anyone with a career as impressive as Mariani's. You have to hand it to him. No one gets where he is without talent and serious hard work.

April 7 in Boulder. Me- standing by the bar waiting for a friend. Mariani - by the hostess' table holding nothing more than a glass of water. He looked like his picture- an older man with potentially grumpy tendencies - (stereotyping, I know). Frasca hosted a dinner for Mariani's new book How Italian Food Conquered the World. He came over and we talked- for a good while. The man was approachable and conversational. He asked that I contact him if I had any questions about the book, about traveling, about writing. Naturally, I had questions. He responded promptly and when I had more questions he ask that I call him. Intimidated as I was, I still got the same warm, kind Mariani on the phone. So what's the controversy about?

My guess is that it is about a very opinionated man who wants simple food, who fears gimmicks, who rejects flash and glamour in food. Along the way, he has run over those who threaten the simple order of food. Close-minded? Maybe. Committed to authenticity and tradition? No doubt. The book made it more clear. It simmered down Mariani's essence to reveal a deep commitment to simplicity in food, a desire to celebrate the roots and history behind it.

How Italian Food Conquered the World is a compendium of everything remotely connected to Italian food dating back to its early beginnings- prior to the existence of the modern day country and language. Mariani covers entire threads of culinary history, restaurant anecdotes, stories of Italian chefs, food producers, entrepreneurs, and recipes with ease. He skips around from one topic to another gracefully.

The tone of the book is almost that of a documentary narrated in the voice of a social and cultural anthropologist who tries to understand the process through which the world came to create, develop, and appreciate Italian food as we know it today. That is good and bad. It is good because of the instructive voice gives the material covered authority but bad as it gets sometimes overly academic.

The range of information covered by the book is fantastic. From the impact of politics on the food culture under Mussolini to the major transformation of Italian food through the exposure created by a non stop flight NY to Rome in 1958, any aspect of Italy's history gets a fair shake and seems to seep into the process through which we fell in love with Italian food. Movies and shows are covered, from La Dolce Vita to the Sopranos. Production of refrigerators and consumption of pasta per capita are reported accurately. The history of Delmonico restaurant empire, originally a family business started in the 19th century, is covered in depth and so is the creation of the Caesar salad, a make-shift dish put together in Tijuana by an Italian immigrant who ran out of food before dinner service. With each page, you learn something new and surprising, and you want to just keep turning the pages.

The book is without a doubt a must-read for anyone interested in all the ins-and-outs of Italy's gastronomic history. It is an instructive and enjoyable read and could make a fabulous present (or Father's Day present if you are in the market for one).

Mariani shares fabulous recipes in the book. What he doesn't share is his preferred cocktail recipe, a classic Daiquiri, the proportions of which he printed on the back of his business card. Here it is.

Daiquiri, a classic recipe

Ingredients: 1 freshly squeezed lime (emphasis in the recipe), 1 teaspoon sugar, 2 ounces gold rum.

Shake ingredients together with ice. Strain into a chilled martini glass.

Photography by Jennifer Olson.

The Cookbook: Straightjacket or Teacher?

2011-05-22T19:28:00.007-06:00

The cookbook: straight-jacket or teacher? What is it to you? What is it to me? Does it instruct or stifle? Does it inspire creativity or limit it? Does it motivate or just provide a crutch? Does it excite or does it bore?

My cooking history is mostly cookbook-free. I grew up in a house where three multi-course meals were cooked every day from scratch. We had one cookbook. One. It lived in the pantry and was seldomly used. When used, it served more as a reference, a loose guide, than a manual to be closely followed. I bought that same cookbook, a newer paperback edition and moved it across the ocean with me nearly ten years ago. For years, I still hardly used it. But slowly, I started to rely on it and other cookbooks more. My cookbook shelf stays small- I purge the ones that collect dust and use the 25 or so books I find inspiration in. Sometimes I use them for this blog.

Why? Couldn't I just make up a recipe and write it up here? Couldn't I just share the dishes, the majority of dishes I cook that are completely improvised, the dishes that I cook day-to-day, the dishes that are quick and complex at the same time? Couldn't I get all creative on you and defy what the cookbooks say, liberate myself from them? Of course I could.

But I am a geek. I study everything. It is how I learn. I study and read about how to read and study. I read about how to parent, how to write, how to blog, how to taste. Books are my teachers; I will always be a student. I did not go to cooking school. I never worked in a restaurant. I learned all I could from my family role-models, but there came a time when I wanted more. And that is when the cookbooks filled a need. I began to listen, to follow, to train myself. I learned and still do every time I open one. I crave and revel in each step of the never-ending learning curve that it is cooking. I recognize there is a lot to learn.

For teachers, I picked my personal role models- people whose life philosophy I believe in, people who inspire me. I love simple, I respect tradition, I get excited for a twist. Alice Waters, Thomas Keller, and Jose Andres dominate my cookbook shelf. They are masters of their craft- of simplicity, of technique, of tradition. The lesson I learn from them is to improvise only after learning the fundamentals, to innovate after mastering the history. They are not icons of cooking because they walked in a kitchen one day and whisked together an amazing new dish, but because they made the elementary cooking second nature, refined foundational recipes, and advanced essential cooking techniques to the next level. Following their recipes is my way of learning from them.

Many times, I share some of their recipes with you. I make those dishes several times before I write about them. It takes a few tries to understand the author's goal and it also takes a few tries for me to find my own twist, create my own experience to share. Some of the recipes are simple, some intricate. Some I probably could have created myself. But no matter how deep I dug in my cooking knowledge, no matter how much I tried to recount the few times I had it, and no matter how hard I tried to imagine reconstructing it, I could never figure out how to make kimchi. And I wanted to make kimchi. So Momofuku's recipe came in handy. Here it is!

Napa Cabbage Kimchi, Momofuku (this cookbook is pure genius!)

Ingredients: 1 small head of Napa Cabbage, outer leaves discarded; 2 tablespoons kosher salt; 1/2 cup sugar; 20 garlic cloves, minced; 20 sliced of peeled ginger, chopped; 1/2 cup kochuharu-Korean chile powder (probably an Asian market is your best bet for this); 1/4 cup fish sauce; 1/4 cup light soy sauce; 2 teaspoons jarred salted shrimp; 1/2 cup sliced green onions (greens and whites); 1/2 cup julienned carrots.

Cut the cabbage in half lengthwise in half, then the halves crosswise into 1 inch pieces. Sprinkle the salt and a couple of tablespoons of the sugar. Toss and let it sit overnight or for at least 6 hours.

In a bowl, make a brine by combining garlic, ginger, chile powder, soy sauce, shrimp, and the rest of the sugar. Combine and try to allow the sugar and chile to dissolve. If too thick for them to dissolve, add water, 1/4 cup at a time, until the brine is creamy but still thick as a creamy salad dressing. Stir in the green onions and carrots.

Drain the cabbage and pour the brine over it. Mix it well and cover it tightly. In as little as 24 hours, but better in 2 weeks, the kimchi will be ready. It gets funkier and funkier- generally a good thing until, well, it gets too funky. Eat it before that happens.

Photography by Jennifer Olson.

Roses, Eat'Em

2011-05-06T05:06:00.001-06:00

I ranted about Mother's Day last year here. And I feel like it is appropriate to do it again. Maybe it will be an annual tradition. I do like annual traditions, particularly if they involve rants on over-commercialized made-up holidays.

Make no mistake: I love celebrations. I love saying I love you to those who matter. I love recognizing them, spoiling them, making them feel on top of the world for a day or every day. I love dedicating a whole day to just doing that. I do love Mother's Day. I just hate what we are making of it - the cheap meaningless jewelry, the soulless Hallmark cards, the thought that someone might actually take the woman who gave birth to him to the Country Buffet for the Mother's Day brunch special.

I will not give you a list of what to buy for Ma. I say make her a stiff drink. She needs it. Maybe this one or this one. A drink and flowers. Always get flowers. Even if Ma says she doesn't want flowers, go ahead and get flowers. Even if you think she really doesn't care about flowers, get flowers. Always- just a good rule. Let's make it even safer - get roses. And then make this custard with them!

Rosewater Creme Caramel with Primrose Sauce & Black Pepper Tuiles, a Charlie Trotter recipe

Rosewater Creme Caramel

Ingredients: 1/2 cup heavy cream; 1/4 cup whole milk; 1/2 cup sugar; 2 teaspoons orange zest; 1 whole egg; 1/2 the yolk from another egg; 2 teaspoons rosewater; 2 tablespoons water.

Put the cream, milk, 2 tablespoons of the sugar, and orange zest in a non-reactive pan on medium heat. When it comes to a boil, remove from the heat, cover, and steep for 30 minutes. Return the mixture to a boil. In a separate bowl, whisk the egg and egg yolk well and begin adding the hot cream very slowly. If you molest this process, your custard will break and bye-bye creme caramel! Temper the eggs patiently by adding the hot mixture gently while whisking. Mix it well together then strain through a fine mesh sieve. Add the rosewater and mix well again.

Caramel: combine the remainder of the sugar and the water in a small heavy-bottomed pan and cook over medium heat for about 10 minutes until it is deep golden brown and, well, caramelized.

Brush 4 small ramekins (2 to 3 ounces) with canola oil very lightly. Pour a small amout (1 tablespoon) of the caramelized sugar in each ramekin swirling immediately to coat the bottom of each dish.

Pour the custard in the ramekins and bake at 325 degrees in a water bath for about 50 minutes to 1 hour or until the custard is set. (how do you know it's set? check on it after 50 min; gently touch the top; does it feel set? i.e. does it have the texture and feel of a custard?) Remove from the water bath and refrigerate for at least one hour.

Primrose Sauce

Ingredients: 1/4 cup simple syrup (make your own- half water, half sugar, bring to a boil, and cool- see? easy), 1 blackberry, petals of one large or two smaller primroses.

Combine the ingredients in a blender, and puree until very smooth, about one minute.

Strain well through a fine mesh sieve. Reserve until ready to serve.

Black Pepper Tuiles

Ingredients: 1 1/2 tablespoon unsalted butter; pulp of 1/2 Madagascar vanilla bean; 2 tablespoons flour; 1 egg white; 3/4 teaspoon finely ground black pepper.

Over medium heat, melt the butter and the vanilla pulp and let it cool one minute or two. Whisk the remaining ingredients into the butter and pour into ziploc bag. Make a very small hole in one of the corners of the ziploc bag and pipe the batter onto a silpat or non-stick baking sheet in the desired shapes (hearts!). Bake at 350 degrees for 4-5 minutes or until light brown. Let them cool and store at room temperature airtight.

You will have more tuiles than you need, but the good part is that (1) they are tasty, so don't hesitate to eat them, and (2) you can choose the ones that came out the best for actually using on your dish.

To serve: remove the custard from the ramekins by gently loosening the sides with a knife. Invert each custard into a shallow bowl. Gently. There will be caramel sauce dripping out. Keep it. Move the custard carefully onto the serving plate. Spoon a little rose sauce on top of it and drizzle a little caramel sauce on the plate. Top with one of more tuiles.

Photography by Jennifer Olson.

Doubts, Margarita

2011-05-03T19:59:00.006-06:00

It has been over a year, nearly 100 posts, and I am still questioning myself with each post. Is this an interesting rant? Is it an enticing recipe? Do they belong together? Why do they belong together? Am I too detached? Too personal? Do I sound like I am writing in my journal (please shoot me if I do!)? Why would anyone read this and not the thousands of other blogs? Is my manicure good enough for the next photo shoot? You know- important questions.

There is no way for me to explain exactly how much I struggle over writing, over what I post, how I say it, how little, how much, how strongly. Masochism perhaps. It is the struggle I am drawn to because I am about to dive into more of it. Big changes in the life of French Press Memos are upon us - soon to be shared with you- very soon.

Right now, as hundreds of questions and thoughts and plans and ideas run frantically through my head, I feel like I have found the cure to quieting down my mind, my worries, my doubts. Tequila. I do not advise you (or I) do shots, but a nice margarita serves a variety of purposes this week: (1) calms down the restless mind, (2) pretends to honor and celebrate Cinco de Mayo, (3) helps Ma deal with the circus that has become Mother's Day (trust me, Ma needs it).

The French Press Memos Margarita

Ingredients: 2 ounce tequila, 1 ounce Cointreau, 1 ounce fresh squeezed lime juice, 1/2 ounce simple syrup.

Mix the ingredients together in a cocktail shaker with some ice. Shake it well. Like you mean it.

Drink up, relax, and come visit again soon.

Photography by Jennifer Olson.

'Recipe Development': Asparagus Coins

2011-04-28T20:28:00.002-06:00

Recipe development. It sounds fancy, doesn't it? Formal too.

I am an experienced home cook. I have made up countless dishes, but never sat around to engage in recipe development. I suppose there comes a time in every cook's life when a recipe needs to be created. Not the free-styling recipe that comes about when you substitute every ingredient from a recipe with something that seems to be from the same family and you roast instead of grilling and blanch instead of steaming, achieving a final dish that the creator of the recipe could never possibly recognize. No, not that kind of recipe development but the conscious, purposeful, documented kind.

My urge to develop a recipe came when I was invited to to do a cooking demonstration for Colorado Foodie Fest. This group was knowledgeable. I couldn't just pull a recipe out of a book- they would have caught on to that very quickly. The theme I picked was asparagus. I was to do three dishes- I had two of them down and needed a third. I knew what I liked: the texture of peeled asparagus. I knew what I was desperately sick of- asparagus spears, grilled or roasted, wrapped in prosciutto, topped with an egg. I wanted this new dish to be surprising and flavorful, yet simple.

The pieces came together. Asparagus was peeled and cut into thick coins. Flavor came from the crisped prosciutto, the lemon, and the shallots. The surprise was in texture- that of the asparagus, but also the varied sized of minced lemon shallot, and prosciutto flakes. Simplicity came from how the asparagus was cooked- quickly sauteed, preserving its integrity and crunch. This was the most liked of three dishes I cooked. That made me happy.

Asparagus Coins

Ingredients: 1 pound asparagus; 1/3 pound Prosciutto de Parma; 1 medium shallot, minced; the peel from one large lemon, minced and 1 tablespoon of fresh lemon juice; 1/4 cup olive oil, salt to taste (coarse kosher salt for cooking and fleur de sel for finishing).

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Place the prosciutto slices on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper or on a Silpat. When the oven is ready put the prosciutto in and bake for about 10 minutes. Check at 8 minutes and rotate. If after 10 minutes, the prosciutto does not appear much drier and almost crispy, cook longer. Cooking time depends a lot on the accuracy of your oven, the surface you cook the prosciutto on, and the thinness of the prosciutto slices. When ready, break the now0-crispy prosciutto slices into 1/2 inch to 1 inch bits. Reserve in a bowl.

Peel the asparagus, trim the ends and tips, and discard. Cut the asparagus into 1/4 inch coins and reserve.

Prepare the shallot- peel and mince very small. Same for the lemon peel, except try mincing it a little smaller.

Pour the olive oil in a medium sauce-pan over medium heat. Add the asparagus and a sprinkle of salt and swirl it well in the pan making sure the coins are coated with the oil. Cook for 2-3 minutes until the asparagus is a bright lively green color. The coins should be cooked but still have a crunch. Salt to taste and add just a dash of lemon juice.

Place the asparagus on the plates and add to each individual serving, the minced shallot, minced lemon, and bits of prosciutto. Adding these to the individual plates keeps their texture intact, unaffected by the temperature of the asparagus or the liquid released through the cooking of the asparagus.

Serve with a sprinkle of fleur de sel and a drizzle of a great olive oil.

Photography by Jennifer Olson.

Lent, Easter, a Better Use for Eggs

2011-04-22T19:22:00.002-06:00

It is a blur but somehow between severe headaches, stress, and old masochistic tendencies, I decided to give up alcohol for Lent. I know - why? I am not religious. I'm more 'food' than 'wine,' but still love a the right wine pairing with the right dish. I lust over a clever mixed drink. Rational reasons aside, I decided and I found myself too invested to stray from my commitment. God knows I am stubborn enough to spite myself for 6+ weeks.

46 days of not drinking (not that I was counting or anything) proved to be more difficult than the 7ish months of no alcohol while I was pregnant. Now I have a toddler and need a drink. But that was not all. This time, I literally didn't taste alcohol at all. Not one sip. Not a sniff. Nothing. And all the while I found myself at some of the most tempting culinary events, some of the best dinners, and some of the hottest bars. Ironic.

But the wait is over and make-up for lost time can be sweet. To keep with the religious theme, from now until June 12 - Pentecost Sunday- it will be a party, complete with weekly mixed drinks and lots of blurbs on wine, beers, and spirits. It is ON.

First up, the Easter Egg - eggs everywhere beware! Row 14, a new and promising restaurant and wine bar in the heart of downtown in Denver, generously shared this recipe. The food is fun, the wine list exquisite, and the talented Tyler French can mix you this pretty adult beverage and many more.

Easter Egg, courtesy of Row 14.

Ingredients: 2 juicy strawberries (one whole, one sliced); 1.5 oz Oronoco Rum; 0.5 oz fresh lime juice; 0.5 oz simple syrup; ice; the egg white from 1 egg; 3 tablespoons superfine sugar; another squeeze of lime; and a drizzle of Peychauds bitters.

Muddle one strawberry in a pint glass. Add the rum, fresh lime juice, simple syrup and a few cubes of ice. Shake and strain into a cold martini glass.

Combine the egg white with the sugar and a squeeze of lime. Shake until foamy and spoon on top of the drink.

Top off with thinly sliced strawberries and drizzle with Peychaud's Bitters.

Makes 1 serving. So- make more. Happy Easter!

Trick Out Your Easter Meal

2011-04-12T20:03:00.008-06:00

Whatever you are planning to make for Easter this week, I am fairly confident it will not be this eggplant salad. So I say- 'trick out' Easter spread- make this.

About eggplant...Not all eggplant is good eggplant. Eggplant is not a replacement for meat (sorry but that eggplant 'burger' made me gag a little). It is not a good candidate for 'parmiggiana" (if you must make parmigianna, stick with the chicken). It is not particularly appropriate for grilling (come on- there are much better veg alternatives for grilling). Cook it in a ratatouille. Or fry it (but then again what doesn't taste good fried?). Or, well, make this salad.

A cousin of the Baba Ganoush, this Romanian 'salad' embodies the essence of comfort, holiday, tradition, and celebration to anyone who grew up with it. Smokey, a schmidg bitter, creamy, and slightly tingly to your tongue, this dish will surprise you pleasantly and grow on you the more times you make it. As a prime example as this growth I have a representative sample of one- my husband- who at first resisted based on lack of exposure, but now special orders it (in liberal translation- begs for it).

Ingredients: 1 eggplant; 1/2 yellow onion very finely diced; 1/3 cup olive oil; salt to taste; 1 tomato (optional); toasted bread (optional).

Prepare a grill and allow it to get hot. Place the eggplant on the hot part of your grill (it is ok if it seems like it is catching on fire) and turn it every 2-3 minutes until charred evenly and roasted all the way through- probably about 8- 10 minutes depending on the temperature on the grill. You can also roast the eggplant on a gas stove; just pretend it is your grill.

Remove the eggplant and allow it to cool down for a few minutes. While still very warm, gently peel the skin off and discard. Sprinkle with salt and let it sit for 20-30 minutes. Drain thoroughly.

On a large cutting board, chop the eggplant very fine. This is easiest if you change direction every now and then. If you have one the wooden knives I got from a little market in Bucharest, well- use it. It works better because the chopping is not about the sharpness of the blade but rather about crushing and almost pureeing the eggplant.

Place the chopped up eggplant along with the chopped onion in a mixer and turn it on medium. Slowly add the oil and allow it to incorporate. Mix for 5-7 minutes until the oil incorporate and the mixture is a smooth puree. Add salt to taste and mix well again.

Serve with tomato diamonds (the peeled and diamond-shaped tomato pulp) and tomato caviar, (the intact seeds removed from the tomato) over a nice hearty toasted piece of bread on Easter.

Photography by Jennifer Olson.

Spring tastes like...

2011-04-05T20:08:00.000-06:00

A new season surprises the senses. Each one with its own tastes. [If you disagree, I can sign you up for seasonality training on the country side of Romania where you eat what you grow.] With every passing season, those first few bites make you fall in love all over again with the new bounty.

Three months of summer culminate in the bright and warm and juicy peach. The next three get sweet, earthy, and buttery like that fall squash. And then three feel soothing and hearty and rich like those root vegetables that braise overnight over a large piece of red meat.

Before you know it you are ready for this- spring. Fresh and tangy and crisp, clean and brisk, new and crunchy. Spring tastes like arugula, like radishes, and like asparagus. It tastes like the ramps and green garlic, the rhubarb and wild strawberries that welcome this new season.

Saturday was the first Farmers Market in Boulder. Yes- I was excited- very excited- I could hardly contain my excitement. The renewal, the green everything, the crisp air, the community revived, brought back to life, together after the long winter months. We came home happy with a little produce- mostly leafy stuff, some meats, and fresh eggs and cannot wait for each Saturday morning from now until October.

Spring Radish Bruschetta

Ingredients: 1 bunch fresh radishes; 1/2 cup loosely packed Italian parsley; 1/2 teaspoon capers; 1/4 cup fresh toasted breadcrumbs; 1 garlic clove; 1/4 cup olive oil (plus more for the bread); 1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice; 8 slices of hearty crusty bread.

Wash the radishes, trim them, and dice them small.

Brush the bread with olive oil and get it charred preferably over a charcoal grill. Your broiler will do the trick too minus the faint smoky-delightful flavor.

In a food processor, add the remaining ingredients. Pulse until coarsely blended. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Mix the green substance with the radishes. Layer a healthy spoonful of the mixture on a slice of bread and close your eyes.

See? Spring!

Photography by Jennifer Olson.

Online Bake Sale to Help Japan

2011-03-28T09:28:00.007-06:00

UPDATE: This auction ended and raised $ 8269. All proceeds will go to Second Harvest, the first Japanese food bank. Thank you for biding and promoting.

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Drop your forks, put down your books, and get ready to click and do some good. If you wondered what you can do to contribute to the Japan disaster relief, query no more. I've got you covered. The lovely Sabrina from The Tomato Tart gathered the talents of over 90 bakers from across the United States and 8 other countries, spread across four continents. These people will bake and auction together in an effort to raise $2500 for disaster relief in Japan. Proceeds from the auction will go to Second Harvest, Japan's first food bank- an organization in dire need of help in the face of very limited daily food supplies.

Wednesday March 30 - starts the Bake Sale for Japan. You can access it by going to www.thetomatotart.com

I am proud to participate and contribute the item I bake best - granola. Nearly a year to the date, I explained in this post that I cannot bring myself to share my granola recipe. If you don't remember that story, refresh your recollection by clicking - here.

The granola is still killer and I still cannot give you the recipe. But 6 bags of addicting French Press Memos granola are up for auction. Bid and make me proud. You will love it.

Read Now: Blood, Bones, and Butter

2011-03-22T20:32:00.001-06:00

After a late night, at 11:17 sharp on an excruciatingly hot Sunday morning in NYC, the bartender at Prune informed us that on Sundays, restaurants were not permitted to serve alcohol until noon. I was crushed but managed not to stab the bartender with my now-indignant glare. That is when I saw her close to the door - blonde, with braided pigtails, and a wickedly confident presence. She looked like she owned the place. Because she did. She didn't get us a drink, but seeing her almost made me forget about it.

Gabrielle Hamilton is the chef and owner of Prune. She is also the author of Blood, Bones, and Butter, a sharp, fiery, and luring memoir recounting an enchanted food-centric childhood, a mad self-search that ended in owning Prune, and a less-than-conventional approach to relationships, marriage, and family.

[This is not the released book, just an advance copy]

The youngest of five, Hamilton's family set the stage for her later career. She was introduced to from-scratch foods by a charming French mother who inspired a deep respect for food and an undying love of making it. The sensory experience of eating was instilled in her by her father, an artist and free spirit who created magical stories, unforgettable parties, and romanticized memories all revolving around food.

The young Hamilton recounting her childhood is innocent, mesmerized. When her parents announce a sudden divorce, Gabrielle reacts by going into a tailspin of adolescent behavior that eventually takes her to New York City working in questionable bars, using drugs, and barely escaping a criminal prosecution for grand larceny and possession of stolen property.

Woken up to reality, Hamilton goes to college, on and off - searching her calling, working nauseating catering jobs, cooking at a kids' summer camp for Mark Bittman's daughter (the world is so small), and taking a long and enlightening (if not miserable and excruciating) trip to Europe. It is this trip that inspires and tips Hamilton's will into wanting to do food her own way.

The trials and tribulations of opening a restaurant in a non-conventional way are described in detail and so is the emotional roller-coaster and romance and pragmatism that leads to her marriage. She leaves her long time girlfriend to marry an Italian doctor who sweeps her off her feet but who also needs paperwork to stay in the United States. This couple - a pair that never really lives as a couple in one residence - has two children and travels every summer to Italy for extended stays. Intriguing, unusual- to say the least.

During these Italian breaks from reality, Hamilton seems to dream up the scenery of dinners her father used to stage when she was just a girl. She wants to create her own feasts only to encounter her husband's harsh and adamant resistance. This, if nothing else, is a sign of the decline of their union.

Hamilton shares much of herself in this book- honestly and openly. Her stories are engaging. Her writing is sharp and surprising- only one sentence can swing the language and mood from 'fuck' to 'insouciant' - seamlessly and gracefully in a three line span. It's impossible not to fall for her writing, not to be enthralled by her story.

So buy the book and take a couple of days off work. Or plan to barricade yourself in the house for a weekend with enough food to survive. I got my advance copy 3 months ago and read it with the eagerness of a teenager getting her hands on the Justin Bieber memoir. I loved it and I am sure you will too.

A recipe is in order - one that Hamilton uses- a Chickpea Salad.

Chickpea Salad (an adapted version of a recipe published in Food and Wine)

Ingredients: one 19 ounce can of chickpeas, drained and rinsed; 2/3 cup Castelvetrano olives, pitted and torn into chunky bits; 10 small red radishes, cleaned and quartered; 5 scallions, white and light green parts only, chopped finely; 1 cup flat-leaf parsley chopped;

5 tablespoons olive oil; 3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice; 2 teaspoons champagne vinegar; salt and pepper to taste. Plus 4 soft poached eggs.

Lightly crush half of the chickpeas. I did by pressing a cutting board on top of the chickpeas. Mix in the rest of the chickpeas.

Make the dressing by mixing together the lemon juice and 4 tablespoons of olive oil along with salt and pepper to taste. Toss the chickpeas with the dressing and add the olives, radishes, scallions, and parsley.

Poach the eggs by bringing a deep pot of water to a boil. Add 2 tablespoons of vinegar per quart of water.

Reduce to a simmer and crack the shell of the egg on the edge of your pan gently lowering the egg into the water. With a spoon, nudge the egg whites closer to their yolk. The eggs cook for approximately 3 to 5 minutes depending on the desired firmness. Remove the eggs from the water with a slotted spoon.

Serve the salad topped with a warm poached egg, a drizzle of olive oil, a sprinkle of salt and pepper, and hopefully a few hours snuggled somewhere with this book.

Photography by Jennifer Olson.

Feeding the Toddler: Orzo & Zucchini

2011-03-16T15:16:00.002-06:00

There is no shortage of theories on what makes a picky eater. I don't have a magic cure for picky eaters. What I do have is a non-picky eater- not a ravenous eater, just a kid who will try and likely eat most things. Always sitting down, with a napkin on her lap, and trying to coordinate enough to use her utensils. Somewhat naturally and somewhat purposefully, we focused on three things: developing taste, involving her in cooking, and leading by example.

A kid’s taste is an empty canvas- an amazing opportunity. Those tastes should have a chance to grow with real food made fresh with real ingredients - not frozen, not from a box, not made with ingredients you can’t pronounce, and not ‘cooked’ in the microwave. This does not have to be complicated. A perfectly ripe avocado has been the greatest lunch in a pinch for us- cut into slices with salt, lime, and paprika (Lulu says it makes it look pretty) – this is the easiest meal you will ever prepare. Glazed carrots and sautéed peas will take 10 minutes to cook and involve a total of 5 ingredients even if you count butter, sugar, and salt as ingredients. Rice with any vegetable will always be a quick meal that will work for the kid and perhaps the rest of the family and so does replacing the rice with faster-cooking orzo. The list goes on and it can be easy.

Ask for their help while cooking. Share part of your ingredients and let them pretend-cook along side you. Or let them actually add the ingredients to your dish as you go. An apron (we have matching ones- cheesy, I know), a butter knife, a cutting board, and an onion will make her feel like she’s making you dinner! Lulu’s kitchen tower (a god-sent Kidcraft creation) safely allows my little girl to be at counter-height, stirring and mixing and adding ingredients just as I do. She feels like she is part of the process and she loves it.

Show them what you eat and how you eat. They watch you constantly and want to see you try different things. They also watch your manners. Show them that broccoli tastes good- mmmm. Show them how you chew a tougher piece of meat – on your back teeth with more jaw strength. Show them that you eat with your utensils, that when you sit down to eat you place your napkin on your lap. Show them that sushi is a treat and a pleasure. They mimic so much. When we eat out, I always smirk when after we order my toddler hands the menu back to a waiter while simultaneously saying Thank You. They remember so much of what we do and repeat it.

10 Minute Toddler Lunch: Zucchini and Orzo

Ingredients: ½ cup orzo; half of a zucchini, diced small; half of an onion, diced very small; 1 tablespoon olive oil, a pinch of kosher salt.

Rinse the orzo under cold water. Bring a pot of lightly salted water to a boil. Put the orzo in and reduce the heat to a simmer. Let it boil for about 8-9 minutes or until the orzo is cooked through.

In a separate pan, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the diced onion and let it sweat for 2-3 minutes. Add the zucchini and coat it with the oil. Add a pinch of salt. Let it cook, stirring occasionally for 5-7 minutes.

Drain the orzo and add it to the vegetable pan. Mix well and serve.

Photography by Jennifer Olson.

Speechless: Fennel Salad

2011-03-06T22:10:00.003-07:00

Fennel Salad, an original recipe in photo-essay format.

Photography by Jennifer Olson.