Sophistication Without the Skills

The past week has been a whirlwind to say the least. Travel, sick baby, high fever and a catered event for 25 to pull off. Somehow it all came together, and we are, at last, back in our own home where everyone slept well last night.

In the spirit of busy times, I will be brief and leave you with a treat I first put together last summer. I was inspired after reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle with the book club gals and made an appetizer that was sourced completely from the farmer's market aside from the oil and vinegar.

It's a crostini topped with arugula, strawberries macerated in balsamic reduction and topped with crumbled feta. It's basically a salad that I love put onto a little slice of toasted bread. There's something magical that happens when fresh, ripe strawberries -- the kind that bleed a deep red syrup when sliced through -- meet balsamic vinegar. The sweet, tangy combination delivers five-star flavor by way of Top Ramen skills. It's really that simple. Slice them and toss them. The trick to balsamic is simply that if you're on a budget, buy a middle-of-the-road variety and reduce it to concentrate the flavor.


Crostini Topped with Arugula, Balsamic-Macerated Strawberries and Feta

1 baguette
5 oz arugula
1 pint fresh strawberries, sliced
1 1/2 cups balsamic vinegar
1 cup crumbled feta
olive oil
salt

Thinly slice baguette on the bias and brush one side of each slice with olive oil. Place on a baking sheet and bake in a 350 oven for about 8 minutes or until bread is slightly golden and toasted. This step could also be done on a grill. Bring the balsamic vinegar to a gentle boil in a heavy-bottomed sauce pan and reduce by about half and cool completely. Slice strawberries and combine with cooled vinegar for about 30 minutes. Toss arugula lightly with olive oil and salt. To assemble place a few leaves of arugula on each crostini. Top with macerated strawberries and crumbled feta. Serve immediately.

Note: The crostinis can be made several hours ahead of time and stored (once cooled) in an airtight container. The balsamic can also be reduced ahead of time. Simply combine strawberries and vinegar just a bit before serving and assemble when ready to eat.

Nothing says "I love you" like cheap food

With the folks in town, seems like I've been running around the kitchen like crazy. It's not that cooking for two extra people is much more work. It's more like I've got so much running through my brain that I could easily get sidetracked making a bowl of cold cereal.

That said, after we'd grilled flank steak, tested a delicious pasta recipe, had a burger night and visited Nathan's farm for some outstanding grilled salmon, my creative cooking well was in need of a stiff drink. That's when I decided on carnitas tacos.


Nothing says "I love you" like great, cheap food. We sat down at the picnic table in the back yard and ate with our hands. It's an unpretentious meal but not soon forgotten.

A while back I discovered this fabulous recipe. After you're done noticing how much more fabulous this blog is than mine, read the recipe. Then go make it. Pork, orange juice, salt and water never tasted so good.

Morning Treat

The cereal aisle of the grocery store was always a treat when I was kid. If we were really lucky, my sister and I each got to pick our own box. I remember really liking Smurf Berry Crunch, which must have been OK with Mom. But she did have her rules. Anything with marshmallows was out, along with anything else that was clearly dessert material masquerading in a bright colorful box with cartoon characters (although I do remember my sister going through quite the Cookie Crisp phase).

Whatever the case, I seemed to take a liking to these rules. To this day, if it is before 10 a.m. I can easily resist cookies, brownies, chocolate, Coke and the like. These were treats that were clearly not meant for the morning hour. That's why it feels a bit sinful to indulge in something studded with chocolate chips for breakfast.

Despite the rules, I made a dozen Banana Chocolate Chip Muffins for a few friends over the weekend. Both the kids and the grown ups ran around the back yard with a muffin in hand. That was really I all I needed to know, but when I returned to the kitchen after the house was quiet again, I saw only one lone muffin sitting on the platter. And it wasn't long before that one was gone, too.


Banana Chocolate Chip Muffins
Adapted from a Boston Cooking School Cookbook muffin recipe

2 cups all-purpose flour
3 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup sugar
2 eggs, slightly beaten
1 cup plain yogurt
1/4 cup melted butter
1/2 cup chocolate chips
1 medium over-ripe banana, mashed well

Combine first four ingredients in a bowl. In another bowl, mix eggs, yogurt, butter and banana. Combine wet and dry ingredients and mix just until moistened. Fold in chocolate chips. Spoon batter into prepared muffin tins (greased or lined with paper cups). Bake at 400 degrees for approximately 15 minutes or until a toothpick insert comes out clean and tops are slightly golden. Let cool in tins for 10 minutes and then remove to continue cooling.

Sweet-Tart Memory

When Seth and I moved in together, I worked days and he worked the swing shift. That left breakfast as our only option for a meal together. Eight years later, we still sit down for breakfast together every day, something that we've grown to cherish.

In those early days, Seth wasn't into fruit, but I began making a fruit salad daily that consisted of sliced bananas, apples, pears, berries or whatever else we had on hand. I'd toss in a handful of nuts, a pinch of cinnamon and a drizzle of honey if the fruit wasn't sweet enough. Fruit is now an everyday routine. Today we usually just slice a pear or apple and have that with our morning meal. Every once in a while I buy grapefruit, and even though we're not exactly in the thick of grapefruit season, I rationalize it by knowing there is no grapefruit season period in the Northwest.

I like mine simple: halved and sprinkled with sugar. Of course I run knife around the edge, so the fruit segments will give with just a little help from a grapefruit spoon. My favorite part is the end when I get to squeeze the remaining juice into the spoon and gulp it down.


As a kid, I thought grapefruits were just something old people ate. My grandparents Mom and Pop had them regularly for breakfast, just the way I described with a sprinkle of sugar. We seldom ate them at my house growing up, and I'm not really sure what turned me on to them as an adult, but I love them. A ripe grapefruit with its sweet-tart taste is hard to beat. The best part, though, is that with one bite, I taste the memory of sitting at the bar in Mom's kitchen eating a microwave-cooked egg that my grandfather probably told me came from an elephant.

Grapefruits aren't just for old people, but I doubt I would have recognized how sweet they could be until I got a little old myself.

Broiler Bread

The broiler might just be one of the most underutilized kitchen tools. It's simple, everyone's got one and it's usually mess-free, which is a bonus in my kitchen.

And it's the broiler that saves me a lot of nights. I love to have bread with salads, pastas, soups and the like. But a loaf of fresh bread won't stay fresh long, and since I don't shop daily, by the end of the week I'm staring at a lone loaf of sandwich bread. That's OK, though. When that happens, I use a trick my mom did when I was growing up. It's easy: sandwich bread + butter + parm + a quick trip under the broiler.

I've updated the version, opting for fresh cheese instead of the kind in the green can, and I sub olive oil for butter. And when I really want to class it up I trim the crusts and cut the bread into triangles or long, thin rectangles. I like to top mine with red pepper flakes, but the possibilities are endless with this easy bread. Fresh chopped tomatoes, thinly sliced apple, chopped herbs or whatever else you've got in the kitchen.

And since this bread is of the economical variety, don't over spend on one of those tubs of shredded parm. Buy a large chunk, cut it into pieces the size a large eraser and pop it in the food processor (this probably works best in a good-quality food processor). It will make an alarming clank at first, but give it a second and it will begin to hum. Whiz until it's finely chopped. Store in an air tight container in the fridge for a few weeks.

One last tip: Don't walk away from the oven. Watch it. This bread cooks in literally a minute or two. Pull it out when it starts to brown and the cheese is melting.

Here's the how-to.

When is asparagus season over?

This is what Seth is asking now. I told him that soon it will disappear from the markets and we won't see it again for a year. That should give him plenty of time to forget the platefuls I've served this month. However, I've got about a pound of it still sitting in the fridge, though, so, honey, it ain't over yet.

Thank you to everyone who gave me feedback on the changes to the blog last week. I'm still tinkering to find the right mix of a quick-hit post as well as enough explanation so that you can make it yourself. This is hard for me. Seriously. Often, I would rather look at a picture of a dish and then just try to recreate it on a whim. But I am trying very hard to remember my brain may be the one out of alignment here. I'll try to offer up a few tips and steps, but they may not always amount to a full recipe. If you have questions, you're more than welcome to ask. I'll respond to comments, emails, Facebook or even the old telephone.

Back to asparagus. Again. This weekend we went to a potluck at my cousin's farm where he divided sidedish and dessert duties by the first letter of your last name. A-M got a side, and N-Z were assigned a dessert. P for Prince would mean dessert. M for McFall would mean a side. I fell to the sweet side and decided to make a flourless chocolate cake since the hostess is a gluten-free gal. In a bit of a hurry, I wasn't a slave to the recipe, and that's where it went awry. Needless to say, the cake was in no shape for a potluck table. Even if I pulled a McFall and asked "Who in the hell brought the uncooked chocolate mess?"


So, I pulled another McFall and decided to think quick, pretending that my mistake was planned all along -- it was all a ploy to get back to asparagus. I do have two last names, and it would be easy to claim the M. We hit up the farmer's market where I bought two huge bundles for my dish. I trimmed the ends and, working in batches, gave them a few quick tosses in a hot skillet with olive oil and salt. Then I transferred them to a sheet tray to cool while I worked on the next batch. The total cooking time was no more than 10 minutes for the entire batch (only about two minutes a batch). When I was done with the asparagus, I toasted a handful of pine nuts in the same skillet. The results were delicious, salty, still crispy spears. When I went to pick up my tray at the end of the evening there were only a couple of lonely spears and scattered nuts. I guess not everyone is sick of asparagus just yet.

Tip: Asparagus will keep longer if you give it a little drink. The bundled spears will stay upright if you keep the rubber band on. You can use just about any dish, but I like to use old yogurt containers. Just put about an inch of water in the bottom and add the asparagus. You'll probably want to change the water in a day or two if you haven't used them by then.

How to buy: Look for bright green bundles that are firm and not limp. The tips should be closed tightly. The size of asparagus does not matter greatly, but the smaller are more tender. If you plan on grilling, the larger ones are great.

Season: Now! Asparagus is a spring crop. If you're buying it in any other season it's probably not from this country. If you want it out of season, look for frozen. The canned variety does no justice to this vegetable.

Beyond Guacamole

Baby food has a way of curling an adult's lip. It leaves you thinking that oatmeal should never have the same color and texture as turkey and rice. And rightly so. But, as babies do, they'll eat some, showing little discretion, and paint the kitchen with the rest.

I hadn't thought of sharing Jasper's food with you until Seth encouraged it. For the past few months we've had fun exploring tastes and textures with our little guy. I've been making his food, except a few generic Cheerios that I buy in bulk. I whiz peas, steamed squash, steamed broccoli and the like in the food processor and freeze portions in my silicone muffin pan. And even though this isn't too much trouble, sometimes I need a 30-second meal for the little guy. OK, I need quick meals a lot, not just on a rare occasion.

That's when I make a Avocado Banana Mash. No cooking. Travels well. Only a fork is required. And before you curl up your lip, take a taste. It's delicious. And it even looks like avocado and banana mashed together to boot!


Before I run off taking credit for this tasty combination, I have tell you that a good chunk of the world has been eating it for quite some time. In several Asian countries, vendors sell avocado smoothies, a combination of avocado and yogurt whizzed in the blender. And when we visited Morocco, I first saw someone making them on the tiny alleys of Chefchaouen. I'd never heard of it, and my friend Abdul had to explain it to me twice. Seeing as if avocados are the one food I'd take with me to a deserted island, I couldn't wait to try one. The ones we sampled in Africa had banana in them as well with a touch of honey.

So maybe it's time to think beyond guacamole. A ripe avocado isn't just for condiments or dips. It can just as easily be the star of the show.

Tip: Avocados are ripe when the skin is dark but the fruit is still slightly firm and the stem pops of with only the slightest of pressure. Avocado browns quickly once cut. Acid such as citrus juice or vinegar slows the process. These dishes, especially the mash, will brown quickly, but it does not alter the flavor. To save the remaining avocado, wrap tightly in plastic and refrigerate.

Avocado Banana Mash
1/4 of a large, ripe banana
1/4 of a medium, ripe avocado

With the back of a fork, mash together banana and avocado until desired consistency is reached.

Avocado Banana Smoothie
1/2 of a large, ripe banana
1/2 of a medium, ripe avocado
3/4 cup of plain yogurt (low fat or non fat is OK)

Toss the ingredients in the blender and whiz them together. Taste. Adjust to your liking by adding more banana to make it sweeter or more avocado to make it more savory. If you take it even sweeter, add a drizzle of honey.

Brown Bag

Egg Salad Sandwich

Lunch Date: The perfect brown bag sandwich. Thanks to some neighborhood chickens, and their generous owners who share, we have been eating lots of eggs this week. I make my egg salad with a little bit of dried dill and S&P and pair it with some fresh arugula.

Pizza Party

Asparagus, Pine Nut & Chevre Pizza

Yep: I really do have asparagus every day. This is a super simple dish that was great. It looks like we dined light, but I also made a sausage pizza! We ate pizza, drank a beer and watched "Lost." Good night. Click here for the dough recipe.

Springtime Grillin'

Grilled Lamb Chops alongside Green Salad with sauteed mushrooms, pine nuts and Chevre & Grilled Veggies

More: Marinated the lamb in white wine and grainy mustard; served medium. The warm mushrooms and toasted pine nuts were yummy with the goat cheese. Yes, asparagus is served daily at my house in May!

A New Treat

Today I'm adding something new to The Dinner Hour. In addition to my regular Monday posts, I will also add quick takes on recent meals throughout the week. Often, these will simply include a photo and simple explanation. I'm curious to know how you like it, so please speak up. It's easy to leave a comment just below each post. Thanks for keeping up with The Dinner Hour. Cheers, Amy

Grilled Chicken Tacos, Pantry Slaw and Grilled Asparagus

Tip: Use chicken thighs. They're cheaper and are very forgiving on the grill compared to breasts because the additional fat keeps them moist and delicious.

A Dish on the Fly

In college, I waited tables at a Chili's. I'd come home to my apartment with aching feet, a grease-stained shirt and hair that smelled like burgers and fries. Despite all of that, I really liked my job. I loved being part of something that until then, seemed so secretive to me. I'd never been in a restaurant kitchen. I'd eaten at restaurant, but never known just how it all came together. One of the things I loved about my job was learning all the lingo. Understanding it all made me feel like part of the club.

"On the fly" is restaurant speak for pronto. It's a phrase that's good to know, but one you hope you don't have to use much. It makes you very unpopular. As a server, it's hard to say it to a cook and not make it sound like marching orders. Of course, I was usually using it because I forgot to add something to my ticket -- like when you send in an entire order and forget your table ordered an appetizer until you see their entrees sitting in the window. If it was a simple green salad, the cooks might give you only a minimal amount of crap. If it was something fried that simply had to spend six minutes in the bubbling oil, and the fry cook was already backed up because customers can't get enough of those Chicken Crispers, you'd be lucky if the cooks (who were typically men) weren't making sexist, blonde jokes every time you passed by. For the rest of your waitressing career.

Thankfully now, I only have myself to tick off when I don't catch something early. Like last week when I discovered at the last minute that an event I was going to was a potluck. Scrambling, I did a mental inventory of my pantry. It seemed everything I had on hand would give me a mere two servings or so.

I settled on a bag of pasta and some frozen peas.

The result was tasty and, thankfully, easy. I've been making a version of this for quite some time, just altering it slightly based on whatever I've got in the kitchen. It's simple, and, frankly, doesn't require a recipe. I'll tell you how I made this one, but don't feel obligated to duplicate. I added avocado because I thought it would make the color a beautiful green, which it was, even if only slightly once it mingled with the pasta.


I made the same salad recently without the avocado, added shredded carrots and diced red bell pepper. Sometimes I even add tuna to make it more of a meal. That said, I dutifully ate the remainder of this salad for lunch straight from the bowl while standing over the sink. The best part about this recipe, is that it comes straight from staples you can have on hand at any time. And you never know when you'll slip up and forget, or, even better, when you'll have an impromptu invitation. Now you don't have to show up empty handed.


Green Pasta Salad

1/2 cup mayo
1 small avocado
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar (or lemon juice)
1 small bunch of flat leaf parsley
1 pound of small pasta such as shells
3 cups (roughly) frozen peas, thawed
Salt and Pepper

Cook pasta until al dente. Drain, rinse to cool and drain again. Toss pasta in a light drizzle of oil and set aside. Process first four ingredients in a food processor, reserving a small portion of parsley for garnish. Combine pasta, with mayo dressing and peas. Add chopped parsley on top for garnish. Cover and chill until ready to serve.

Note: If you don't add avocado, you don't need the vinegar or lemon juice, which is just added to help the avocado keep its color.

Spring's Reminder

Sometimes it's something as simple as a 1980s pop song you remember choreographing a dance to at a grade-school sleepover. Like listening to Paula Abdul's "Opposites Attract" while a friend and I made up steps and laughed the night away. The song is insignificant. The real memory is being a kid with my best friend, having fun. The song is just the connection. The mere mention of it, and I'm immediately transported to her living room, covered with sleeping bags and the cassette in the boom box.

Sometimes those triggers make you smile at the past. Others pull a sad memory from somewhere deep, like the broccoli and rice casserole my mom made when my best friend's brother died. And still others make us giddy at the thought of what's to come.

That's where asparagus lives in my mind. Just when I think that I'll never again feel the green grass under my toes while the sun warms my feet because the gray, the rain and the chilly mornings just won't give way to clear blue skies, asparagus appears at the farmers' market. Its brilliant green stalks are a beacon of summer amid pears and apples that are past their prime.

Asparagus means that the seasons are changing, and summer, my favorite season, will indeed show its sunny face again if we just hang on a few more weeks.


Now, I think that asparagus is quite beautiful just standing there in tidy bundles, upright and sitting in a shallow pool of water to keep hydrated. Some stalks thick as thumbs and others skinny as dandelions, all with bushy spears that yield to the most tender of touches.

Asparagus is also the perfect way to get re-acquainted with the bounty that is about to surface. When you get fresh, beautiful fruits and veggies, they really don't need much coaxing to make you fall in love.

Yes, you could blanch your asparagus and wrap them in prosciutto if you want to impress your neighbors. But if you just want a delicious treat, think simple. In fact, you could prepare this veggie blindfolded. Seriously, you don't need a knife. Just trim them by holding one end of a stalk in each hand and bend. Once it breaks, toss the thick end that was cut from the ground and use the remaining, tender end for eating.


Then, just toss the asparagus in some olive oil, salt and pepper. I like to use a glass baking dish for this because the nice flat bottom makes a great place to roll them in the oil. Then just apply a little heat. I like the grill, but you can also pop them in a medium-hot oven for a few minutes. Asparagus is best if it's not overcooked, but cooked just enough to bring out its natural sweetness and still maintain the slightest bite.

Serve 'em hot or room temp. Add a squeeze of lemon juice if you like. Often times, we eat ours right as we pull them off the grill.

However you enjoy them, do it quick. Summer will be here soon and asparagus season will disappear again until next spring. The good news, though, is that we'll have the sun to warm our spirits.

Chocolate Treat

Sometimes the world needs a little chocolate.

I wasn't much of a chocolate person until I sat next to a self-proclaimed chocolate addict back when I was a newspaper reporter. Colleagues knew she loved chocolate so much they'd bring her little candies and chocolate treats. She had the kind of self-discipline, however, that allowed her to indulge. She'd hit the gym on her lunch break, and she'd set aside the little candies on her desk waiting for the late-afternoon energy dip.

I, on the other hand, could not let any piece of food -- be it chocolate or cheese -- sit there teasing me for hours before I chose to indulge. Perhaps I have other admirable qualities, but willpower is not one of them.

Slowly, she converted me, even if I couldn't save a piece for later to save my life.

So now that I consider myself a "chocolate person," I thought it best that I have a good brownie recipe in my stash.

I'm not sure any brownie will compare to the ones we made at ATT that were about four-inches square and contained copious amounts of dark chocolate. But I think this recipes makes a brownie fit for a good Sundae. The results are a dense chocolate bar that holds its structure fairly well -- the one thing the boxed variety doesn't seem to have.

Next time you make brownies, take a tip from the pros and line your pan with parchment paper (you may need to grease the pan anyways). Then, when the brownies are baked and completely cooled, invert the pan and slide the entire thing right out and place it upright on the counter. Then, cut away the outer half-inch or so and cut your squares from that. This will leave you with uniform brownies, which look much more beautiful on a white plate than the dingy pan anyways. (And don't throw away those trimmings. They are usually a little crisp, so crumble them up and use them to top ice cream!)


This recipe called for hazelnuts, which I left out because I wasn't sure if my crowd was of the nut-eating variety. And instead of chunks of chocolate, I simply used dark chocolate chips, which seemed to work just fine. If you're not familiar with creme de cacao, it's a chocolate-flavored liqueur. Before Godiva and Starbucks got into the liqueur-making business, creme de cacao was the staple for cocktails. And, thank goodness, it's much cheaper that the name-brand varieties.

Whether you turn your brownie into a sundae or just eat the thing alone, it's hard not to savor just a quick moment of bliss. Chocolate can do wonders. One other thing about that old co-worker who savored her chocolate treats: She was always happy.

Triple-Sin Brownies
From Lari Robling's Endangered Recipes: Too Good to be Forgotten
1 1/3 cups flour
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 sticks (1/2 pound) butter
1 1/3 cups sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 tablespoon creme de cacao
1/2 cup toasted hazelnuts, chopped
1 ounce semisweet chocolate, cut into chunks

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Spray and 8-inch square baking pan with nonstick cooking spray. In a medium bowl, sift or blend together flour, cocoa, and salt. Set aside. In a large bowl, cream butter and sugar. Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add flour mixture to butter mixture and beat well. Add vanilla and creme de cacao. Mix well. Blend in nuts and chocolate. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for 45 to 50 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Makes 9 brownies.

Simple French

After last week's post, I got to thinking once again about the woman whose husband volunteered her to make deviled eggs. I wondered what she did with all of her pitted eggs. Then I thought I should mention that in case any of you ever end up with eggs you feel are unfit for deviling, please, please, please turn them into egg salad. Eggs, mayonnaise, salt, pepper and bit of dried dill make a heavenly combination. And one more thing, Seth deserves credit for this beautiful photo and last week's. He wanted to prove to me that I do not need a new camera. Point taken.

OK, now on with this week. The weather around here is fantastic, and frankly, I can't come up with a reason to be on the computer too long. Or for that matter, even be in the kitchen too long. It's days like this when you need simplicity in the kitchen, not because you have a million things to do. Just because. You want to soak up the sun, play in the yard or take a nice walk.

So, I thought I'd offer up quite possibly one of the simplest dishes I could think of: Buttered radishes with sea salt. It's crisp and creamy, spicy and sweet and salty. If this sounds a bit odd, just try it. Does it help if I say it's French? It is, really. You could tell that to your friends when you offer them up as a light snack or appetizer. But I think once they take a bite, they won't care. They'll even praise your culinary skills, leaving you thinking, "I sliced a radish and slathered butter and sea salt on it. How Julia Child am I?"

But go ahead and be polite. Thank them for the compliment. Then, if someone asks for the recipe, it's OK to be snarky and think, "I sliced a radish and slathered butter and sea salt on it. Julia Child you are not."

Deviled Eggs

I remember reading a newspaper story a few years ago about a woman whose husband volunteered to bring deviled eggs to an office potluck. And while the woman put her best whisk forward, she simply couldn't manage to peel the hard-boiled eggs without mangling them. In the end, she called the local deli and placed an order. Thinking of the story still makes me smile. I'm sure she wasn't the first home cook to try to pass off deli cooking for her own. I think any home cook who's had a kitchen disaster on deadline knows when to draw the line.


Making a deviled egg really is a simple task once you get beyond peeling the eggs. Some commercial kitchens even buy peeled, hard-boiled eggs because the task of peeling can be so labor intensive. The trouble is that often it's hard to get the thin membrane that sits just beneath the shell to peel away without taking a chunk of the white with it. Sometimes it's a breeze and the entire shell will practically slide away like a dab of butter on a hot skillet. But other times it seems the shell just won't wield to even the strongest of thumbnails.

There are a few things that can improve your egg-peeling odds. First, start with eggs that aren't fresh. You don't often hear those words come from a food blog, but seriously, the fresher your eggs, the less likely you are to be able to pry the shell off of them. If you've ever tried to peel a hard-boiled egg that you plucked from a chicken coop, you know what I'm talking about. Both the shell and its inner membrane are much tougher on a fresh egg. Over time, they begin to deteriorate. The thinner they are, the easier they slip off.

So how do you know if your eggs are fresh? Well, one sign is to look at the yolk of a cracked egg. If it has a little white tail coming off of one end, the egg is still fairly fresh. That little tail will also deteriorate and disappear with time. If you're buying eggs at the grocery store, you can simply look at the date on the side of the carton. If you happen to be lucky enough to have a neighbor with chickens, your eggs are likely way fresher than any you'd ever find at the grocery store. Typically, you're on the lookout for expiration dates as far from the current date as possible. If you're picking up eggs you plan on hard boiling, look for a carton with the date closest to the current day. Or simply pick up your eggs several days in advance.

To help improve your odds even more, put the hard-cooked eggs, unpeeled, in a pot and clang it around. The eggs will crash into each other and the sides of the pot, cracking the shells in a much better way than you could do on your own.

Whatever the case, please don't let a little torn egg white stop you from making these deviled eggs. Once you slice them and pipe the filling in, the outside of the egg becomes the backside of your deviled egg. So no one will ever know how well you peeled them. And even if they cared, they'd forget as soon as they popped one into their mouth.

This recipe comes from Ruth Reichl's Tender at the Bone: Growing Up at the Table. Reichl, who stumbled into the food journalism business through the back door and now is the editor of Gourmet, describes in the book when she met Marion Cunningham of the Fannie Farmer cookbooks at cocktail party honoring James Beard. Reichl was new to the business and knew few of the foodies of the moment. She asked Cunningham if she was someone famous. Cunningham laughed and replied that she was one of the last home cooks.

Marion's Deviled Eggs
From Ruth Reichl's Tender at the Bone: Growing Up at the Table

4 hard-boiled eggs
1/4 cup mayonnaise
1 teaspoon cider vinegar
1 teaspoon ballpark mustard
Salt and pepper

Shell eggs. Carefully cut in half lengthwise, and place yolks in a bowl. Mash yolks with a fork until smooth. Add remaining ingredients and mix well. The mixture should be thick and creamy.
Fill each egg white half with yolk mixture. Grate a bit of pepper on top. Refrigerate until needed.

Loaves of Comfort

It's been a crazy few days around our house with a very sick baby. So, needless to say, I haven't exactly been the best cook on the block. In fact we had take out two nights in a row (otherwise known as "Seth's cooking" around here), which is something we haven't done since our parent-free days.

So while I'm not making much comfort food, I wanted to write about it. Usually when I think of comfort foods, I think of cheesy casseroles and hearty soups, but really, for me at least, it's any food that evokes some kind of emotion. It's a food that makes you smile at the mere thought or perhaps even conjures up a memory you'd never forgotten but seldom spend much time thinking of.

That's where Erik's bread comes in. Erik is a guy's guy. His nickname is Hoops. He's from a small town on the Oregon Coast, loves to chat about sports and would likely be hard-pressed to find someone he couldn't get along with. What I didn't know was that he could bake. Now I don't think he's spending all of his free moments standing at the mixer with flour-dusted jeans, but there's one recipe he really gets into. And lucky for friends like me, he likes to share.

At the holidays, or most recently, on my birthday, Erik pops by to drop off a loaf of Pulla, a braided Finnish bread similar to challah. It's a gorgeous bread that is dense, slightly sweet and tastes of a hint of cardamom. It's shiny crust is thin, golden and soft, and I've yet to find a way I don't like it. I'll eat a slice plain, toasted with butter, make French toast with it or use day-old cubes for a bread pudding.

Erik says he had the bread as a kid and made a point of having his grandmother show him how to make it. It was a recipe she brought with her from Finland. Erik still uses the 3-by-5 note card she scrawled the recipe on for him. I'm happy for family recipes, and especially happy for friends who share them.

Here is the recipe, straight from Erik, which he says is a combination of his grandmother's instructions and his own notes. And I'm guessing that since this great recipes makes four loaves, you won't mind sharing at least one of them with a friend of your own.

* I chunk 1 stick of butter into a really large mixing pot. (My Grandma wrote Fleischmann's margarine, but we actually use whatever butter we have on hand.)
* 2 cups of milk, warmed on the stove until lukewarm. I usually look for bubbles to form around the edges before pouring it in. (The idea is to use the warm milk to help melt the butter. I've yet to remember to pull a stick of butter out of the fridge a few hours early to allow it to warm, but maybe I'll remember to do that next weekend.)
* 1 packet of yeast softened in half a cup of warm water. We use a fast-rise yeast that Erin keeps in the fridge. What I do is put a packet's worth (2 1/4 teaspoons, I think) in a little ceramic cup, then moisten it with lukewarm water from the tap. (I've gotten a little neurotic about not killing the yeast, so I first warm the cup with warm water from the tap.)
* 1 cup of sugar.
* Half a teaspoon of cardamon seed powdered. You can, of course, buy powdered cardamon seed, but I follow my Grandma's method of putting the granuals into a cloth, then pounding into powder myself with a hammer. Again, I see how this can seem a little weird but I figure I better follow Grandma's methods.)
* Half a teaspoon of salt.
* Four or more egg yolks and 1 white. (I crack the first three eggs and drizzle the whites into a glass that I use later as egg wash before baking.) Obviously, you whip the eggs then pour into the mixing pot with all the rest.

By this time, the milk is usually warm enough to pour in. I swish it all together, dissolving everything into a liquid before adding 8 cups of flour. Incidentally, I usually measure out the flour and put it into a separate bowl, which I then put in the oven to warm slightly. (Still panicky about killing the yeast.)
Next step is to start mixing in the flour with a mixer. When it becomes too thick for that, I start adding flour and kneading by hand. Ultimately, I like the ball of dough to have enough flour that it won't stick to the pot.
The next step is to let it rise for 1 hour in warm conditions. (After various experiments, I've turned up our furnace to 70 and set it on a chair in front of a vent next to the dining room table. My mom thought this was whack and said normal people put it atop the fridge, which is generally warm. All I know is, this has worked for me in this particular house, so I don't mess with success. In the past, I've had trouble getting the dough to rise. My Grandma theorized that my old apartment wasn't warm enough. Of course, she usually kept her place sweltering at roughly the temperature a Finnish sauna ... but I digress.)
Punch it down after an hour and let it rise another hour.
Braid it in loaves and let those rise for about 45 minutes. (I warm the oven slightly and let them rise in there).
When you're ready to bake, pull the egg wash out of the fridge and paint it atop the loaves. Sprinkle with a fancy granular sugar and put it in the oven.
Bake for 350 for 10 minutes, then turn it down to 325 and bake for 20 to 25 more minutes. (I usually swap the pans at this point, so the ones on top aren't too well-done.)
Eat.

Oddles of Noodles

Not long after I met Christiane, I was reading one of her menus when I asked her to describe her sesame noodles. Chalk it up to my Oklahoma upbringing, but I'd never had this dish before. I was half embarrassed that I hadn't even heard of it.

I knew that it was an Asian dish, but beyond that I knew nothing. When I was in elementary school, there was a strip mall bordering our subdivision, and nestled in the middle was a Chinese restaurant. I don't know the actual name, and frankly in that place at that time "Chinese" was the ubiquitous term for anywhere that served fried rice and egg drop soup. This helps explain some of my perceptions I later learned to label as misconceptions. Like the time I asked my roommate Joan, who is Filipino, if she grew up using chopsticks (before you think I'm a complete idiot, she was eating with chopsticks during this conversation). The Jersey girl told me she didn't start using them regularly until she moved to San Francisco for grad school.

I am proud to say that I learned more in college than how to fill a Blue Book thanks to friends such as Joan. I came to understand there are thousands of variances in Asian cuisine. In fact, to think otherwise would be like thinking that all North American food tasted the same. And, of course, we recognize that even here in the United States there are variations of the same dish from region to region, such as how Memphis barbecue is different than Texas barbecue and New England chowder is different than the bowls full of it we eat on the Oregon coast. And then there are even those dishes that slip in and catch the tidal wave of hip just by being fresh and new.

That's how sesame noodles came to us. According to a New York Times story, sesame noodles, or Szechuan noodles, became popular in New York in the 1970s and '80s as a fun, flavorful new take on Chinese takeout. They are typically served cold and soon became a new standard in Chinese food - at least in that corner of the country.

Today there are lots of recipes out there for sesame noodles, which now are just as frequently called peanut noodles. Many of those recipes include nothing more than peanut butter, soy sauce and chili oil. And many of them aren't nearly this good. I can't say how this recipe holds up to the New York dish, but I can say that I haven't met someone who doesn't like these noodles. Don't feel daunted by the long list of ingredients. Most of them are things you may already have in the pantry, and even if you don't, they don't spoil quickly.

And as if this dish needs to be any more appealing, it is easy to make and can be refrigerated until serving. That makes them perfect for a busy day, leftover lunches or a picnic in the park. You can serve them naked except for their sauce or top them with sliced peppers, green onions and black sesame seeds. When I make them as a dinner, I top them with lots of steamed veggies.


Szechuan Noodles
From Ina Garten

6 garlic cloves, chopped
1/4 cup fresh ginger, peeled and chopped
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/2 cup tahini
1/2 cup smooth peanut butter
1/2 cup good soy sauce
1/4 cup dry sherry
1/4 cup sherry vinegar
1/4 cup honey
1/2 teaspoon hot chili oil
2 tablespoons dark sesame oil
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 pound spaghetti

Place garlic and ginger in food processor. Add remaining ingredients, except pasta, and puree to a smooth sauce.

Cook pasta until al dente (do not overcook as pasta will absorb the sauce as it sets). Drain well.

Combine sauce and pasta until pasta is thoroughly coated. Refrigerate until ready to serve, giving it about 15 to 20 minutes to come up to room temperature before eating.

Top with sliced bell peppers and green onions.

Cookie Craving

Last night over wine and fondue on a girls' night, we began talking about our favorite cookies. It was the perfect opportunity to profess my renewed love for the just-out-of-the-oven cookie. Really, who doesn't like a warm, gooey cookie? Pair it with some ice cream, and that's my idea of the perfect dessert.

Recently I've started stocking my freezer with balls of cookie dough that are just about 10 minutes away from that perfect dessert. It's a tip from the pros. Make one batch of dough, bake off just what you need (OK, want) at that point and freeze the rest. It's a technique that will pay off tenfold, I promise. Instead of having a heaping mound of cookies as a result of one afternoon's craving, you'll get your fill then and have more for later. And not only does this trick settle a late-night sweet tooth, but it could also make a great, easy dessert for a casual dinner party with friends. A cookie fresh out of the oven could rival the most pretentious of cakes or pies.


Of course, you can buy premade cookie doughs at the grocery store, and many of those aren't bad, but this method would allow you to make any kind of cookie you like. Below I've listed a recipe for a great chocolate cookie that is meant to be eaten warm. It also happens to pair quite nicely with a good scoop of vanilla ice cream.

To freeze cookie dough: Make cookie dough following recipe directions. Shape dough into appropriate size balls, discs or cut shapes based on recipe instructions. Place dough on cookie sheet, making sure no cookies touch. Place in freezer loosely covered for approximately 30 minutes to 1 hour or until frozen. Transfer frozen dough balls to freezer bag or storage container. To bake, remove however many cookies you want from the freezer and allow to rest at room temperature for about 15 minutes and then bake as recipe instructions indicate.

Molten Chocolate Cookie
adapted from Guittard Chocolate Company recipe

2 Cups Dark Chocolate Chips
3 Tablespoons butter
2 Large eggs
1/2 Cup Sugar
1/2 Teaspoon vanilla
1 Cup all-purpose flour
1/2 Teaspoon baking powder

Melt chocolate chips and butter in a double boiler over low heat, stirring until smooth and thick. Remove from heat and set aside to cool. In a large mixing bowl, combine eggs, sugar, salt and vanilla. Beat on high until mixture is a pale yellow and slightly thick, about 2 minutes. Mix in chocolate on low speed, stopping to scrape the bowl. Slowly add flour and baking powder on low speed just until incorporated. Cover dough and refrigerate for 15 minutes. Scoop dough into balls and either bake immediately or freeze. Bake in a 375 degree oven for about 10 to 12 minutes. The outsides should be crusty and the inside will remain soft and gooey.

Biscuit Perfection

I have my dad to thank for my addiction to breakfast. I can't imagine heading out the door for the day without sitting down to at least a bowl of cold cereal. As a kid, I used to sit down at the table with Dad to enjoy our breakfasts while I often read the back of the cereal box and he read the paper. My older sister was part of this ritual until she reached junior high, and my mom was usually headed home from working the night shift as a nurse when we were eating breakfast. As my mom's jobs changed and my sister moved out, Dad and I were still sitting down together in the mornings to enjoy breakfast.

I still can't manage a day without breakfast, and when I married Seth he worked a swing shift. That meant those morning meals were our only time together. So, we started our own tradition of a hearty breakfast. These days I prefer oatmeal or a simple fried egg on top of a piece of toast, one of Dad's dishes.

On weekends, though, we typically have a bigger breakfast. Many of those mornings include Seth making some scrambled eggs while I bake biscuits. It's hard to beat the salty, flaky, buttery taste of a great biscuit. When a friend finds out about my biscuit passion, they usually assume it was something I was raised on -- a country girl from Oklahoma probably had lots of biscuit breakfasts. It's true, my mom did make biscuits a lot. But, just like a lot of moms, she made the Bisquick variety. In fact, I remember disliking the canned version most of my friend's moms made. The Bisquick version was the standard in my book.

Somewhere along the line I stopped buying Bisquick myself. I found a recipe in my Better Homes and Gardens cookbook that I liked. My early attempts at biscuit-making weren't necessarily great, but I could tell that I should strive for a new standard. Lots of biscuits out there, including Bisquick's, bake up a little stiff and end up with the crumb of a cake doughnut. To me, a biscuit should be a soft, pillowy bread with buttery layers that flake apart with the ease of a fork. My mom taught me that: A good biscuit is fork split -- no knife required.


After much practice, I can usually turn out a biscuit I think is pretty darn good. Much like making any pastry, though, the recipe can only get you so far. Technique is important. You don't want all the butter to melt before baking because it's that process that creates those lovely layers as the melting butter creates steam pockets in the toasty oven. And also like may other pastries, biscuits need a dab of butter on top to help them brown.

There are several things I've learned along the way that help make a better biscuit such as popping the unbaked dough in the freezer for a few minutes before baking will help them rise better because the butter will be good and cold. And don't turn your biscuit cutter, just press it straight down and pull it back up. Turning causes one side to fall. And after cutting your biscuit rounds, dip both sides in melted butter for a lovely golden crispness. The unbaked biscuits of this recipe even freeze well, so bake up what you want and throw the remaining in an airtight container for a quick baking later.

I think once you have one of these biscuits, you could find a reason to make breakfast a habit in your house, too. They're great on their own or split 'em open and make a little biscuit, bacon and egg sandwich. That is a breakfast worth repeating!

Flaky Biscuits
adapted from Better Homes and Gardens
2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for working with dough
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup butter, cold, cubed
2/3 cup milk
2 tablespoons butter, melted

In a food processor combine dry ingredients and cubed butter. Mix, pulsing until mixture resembles coarse crumbs. If you do not have a food processor, use a pastry blender to combine ingredients. Dump flour and butter mixture into a mixing bowl and add milk. Combine with a spoon. Turn out dough onto well-floured surface. Work dough into a ball and use a rolling pin to roll dough out to about 3/4 of inch thick. Use a biscuit cutter to cut rounds, or using a knife cut square biscuits. Dip cut biscuit tops and bottoms in melted butter and transfer to baking sheet. Place biscuits in freezer for at least five minutes (I place the entire baking sheet in there). Bake biscuits in 450 oven for about 10 to 12 minutes or until golden brown.

Variation: Add two teaspoons of sugar to dry mixture and zest of one lemon or orange. In cut dough, make a thumb print and put a teaspoon of berry jam into each depression. Make a glaze with citrus juice and powdered sugar to brush on the top of baked biscuits.