BLACK-BOTTOM CUPCAKES

I am just bursting with self-congratulation. I used to think I just couldn’t make great cake, but this recipe has proven me wrong. When I saw it at the Smitten Kitchen, it sounded so simple and so good that I had to try making it for my friends’ shared birthday celebration a couple of weeks ago. Since I was planning to bake them on a Wednesday night and tote them around with me the whole next day before meeting the birthday girls for dinner, the fact that I didn’t have to make frosting and then worry about said frosting getting smeared all over the place during the transport process was majorly appealing.

The cake recipe sounded a little odd—brown sugar? vinegar? The vinegar had only given me mild pause initially, but when I was driving home from work on my planned cupcake-baking evening, I happened to hear this story on NPR, in which the interviewer simply could not get over the fact that the “wacky cake” recipe called for vinegar. “Vinegar?” she kept repeating. “Really? Vinegar?!” I started to get nervous. Now, with the levelheaded benefit of hindsight, I realize the interviewer just didn’t know what she was talking about. Both the wacky cake and the black-bottom cake recipes don’t call for milk, butter, or eggs, which means they’re probably rooted in either the Great Depression or World War II. Any elementary-school science student knows that baking soda + vinegar = fizz, so I’m guessing the vinegar helps to leaven the cake in the absence of eggs. Ah, chemistry!

The cupcakes were extremely easy to make. I used Scharffen Berger for both the chopped chocolate and the cocoa (I can’t believe that since embarking on this recent baking spree, I’ve become the sort of person who keeps both Dutch-process [Droste] and non-Dutch-process [Scharffen Berger] cocoa around the house, in deference to the varying preferences of different recipe writers). I used my KitchenAid to beat the cream-cheese filling and then, because Deb had complained that her cupcakes didn’t look as perfect as the originals, and because it was a hot day in Pasadena, I chilled the bowl of filling in the refrigerator while I made the cake batter, in the hopes that the filling would stay neatly in the centers of the cupcakes. I was a bit tense when filling the muffin cups—the cake batter seemed to fill them up almost completely, so I went easy on the filling to avoid overflowing them (also, I was worried the cupcakes would end up too cheesy-tasting, but after trying them I decided the filling was so good, I shouldn’t have held back). I ended up with leftover batter and filling, and my cupcakes still puffed up way above the top of the muffin cups during baking. Maybe I should have made a thirteenth cupcake? The overflowing didn’t do much harm, aside from making the cupcake tops a little hard to peel away from the pans, and making my cupcakes generally resemble toadstools. Chilling the filling did make it easier to work with, but it didn’t make my cupcakes look any better. They were definitely homestyle, maybe a little homely, but I didn’t mind—in fact, it was cool the way each of them turned out uniquely, with different patterns of black and white swirls on top. I do wish my chocolate chunks hadn't all sunk to the bottom, though; maybe I needed to chop them finer?

Anyway, the taste was the important thing: Absolutely delectable, I'm pleased to report. I tried one fresh out of the oven, just to make sure I hadn’t mismeasured, overmixed, overcooked, or otherwise ruined them, and it tasted good, but I was amazed at how much more flavorful they tasted when I ate one straight out of the refrigerator the next day. It was actually better chilled. No one who tried them could specifically taste the vinegar until they were told it was there, but everyone agreed they liked the little tang it added to the cake—it kept it from being too sweet and balanced out the unctuousness of the cream-cheese filling. Best of all, the cupcakes were utterly moist and tender, something I’ve never achieved in a cake before. Even three days later, they tasted fresh. This is definitely my go-to cupcake recipe from now on.



8 ounces cream cheese, regular or reduced-fat, at room temperature
⅓ cup granulated sugar
1 large egg, at room temperature
2 ounces bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, coarsely chopped
1½ cups all-purpose flour
1 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
5 tablespoons natural unsweetened cocoa powder (not Dutch-process)
1 teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt
1 cup water
⅓ cup canola oil
1 tablespoon white or cider vinegar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1. To make the filling, beat together the cream cheese, granulated sugar, and egg until smooth. Stir in the chopped chocolate pieces. Set aside. (If you like, chill the filling in the refrigerator while you make the cupcakes—this will make it easier to work with and will help you create a more uniform cream-cheese center.)

2. Adjust the rack to the center of the oven and preheat to 350 degrees. Butter a 12-cup muffin tin, or line the tin with paper muffin cups.

3. In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, brown sugar, cocoa powder, baking soda, and salt. In a separate bowl, mix together the water, oil, vinegar, and vanilla.

4. Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients and stir in the wet ingredients until the batter is just smooth. (Do not overmix, or you will end up with less-than-tender cupcakes.)

5. Divide the batter among the muffin cups. Spoon a few tablespoons of the filling into the center of each cupcake, dividing the filling evenly. This will fill the cups almost completely, which is fine.

6. Bake for 25 minutes, or until the tops are slightly golden brown and the cupcakes feel springy when gently pressed.

Yield: 1 dozen
Time: 45 minutes

ZUCCHINI MUFFINS

Now is the time of year when people begin to feel oppressed by zucchini. (According to Garrison Keillor, the people of Lake Wobegon lock their car doors in August so their neighbors don’t sneak zucchini into them; there’s a great passage in Lake Wobegon Days about being overwhelmed by vegetable bounty, but unfortunately the only line I remember is “At night they checked the bed for kohlrabi.”) (Also, check out Crazy Aunt Purl's hilarious photo essay about her own zucchini infestation.) I don’t have a vegetable garden, nor do I know anyone who does, so I’m not feeling the pain. I tried this recipe not out of desperation, but just because I love both zucchini and muffins. Somehow it had never occurred to me that zucchini bread—something, like all sweet quick breads, I can pretty much take or leave—could be turned into muffins, which are so much more tempting—easier to keep fresh, more portable, handily personal-sized, and eminently cuter than the loaf form. So when I saw this recipe at the Smitten Kitchen, I sat up and said, “Boy howdy!”

I hippied up the recipe a bit by substituting unsweetened applesauce for half of the oil, because I always have applesauce on hand for making granola, and just the thought of an entire cup of oil (the original amount the recipe called for) made me feel a bit queasy; also, apples and zucchini seem like a nice pairing. I didn’t use nuts, but you can. Aside from the fact that one panful managed to get a little too dark on the bottom, the muffins were plenty moist and tender, well spiced and vanillaish, and—though I’m no zucchini-bread connoisseur, mind you—darn tasty. Overall, they were a snap to make, maintained at least the illusion of healthiness (they have vegetables in them, after all), and were easy to stash in the freezer and take to work as a mid-morning snack. If this is how it’s going to be, I, for one, welcome our zucchini overlords.



3 eggs
½ cup olive or vegetable oil
½ cup unsweetened applesauce
1¾ cups sugar
2 cups grated zucchini (about 2 medium zucchini)
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
3 cups all-purpose flour
3 teaspoons cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
½ cup chopped walnuts or pecans (optional)

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

2. Line 24 muffin cups with paper liners, or grease them well.

3. In a large bowl, beat the eggs with a whisk. Mix in oil, applesauce, and sugar, then zucchini and vanilla.

4. In another large bowl, combine flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, baking soda, baking powder, salt, and nuts (if using).

5. Stir the flour mixture into the egg mixture. Divide the batter between the prepared pans. Bake for 20–25 minutes, or until a tester inserted into the center comes out clean.

Yield: 2 dozen
Time: 40 minutes

SPICY ROAST CHICKEN AND TOMATOES

It may require half an hour of hot oven usage, but this is nonetheless a great summer meal—insanely easy to assemble, and you can leave the kitchen to go lay under the air-conditioner while your food cooks. And the taste: chicken with sweet, rich, roasty tomatoes, plus garlic and red pepper flakes, two of my very favorite flavors? Why didn’t I think of this? I made a half-recipe, using cherry tomatoes on the vine fresh from the farmers' market, and wished I'd made the full four servings so I could enjoy the leftovers the next day. The only thing I want to tinker with is the herb. The original recipe, from Barbara Fairchild in the LA Times, called for fresh marjoram, not my favorite. The Wednesday Chef, from whence I found the recipe, used dried rosemary instead, and so did I, but it didn’t do much for me; I found myself wanting a greener, more assertive herb to match the sweetness of the tomatoes and the spiciness of the red pepper. Fresh rosemary, maybe? Thyme? Or maybe I should try the marjoram after all? I’ll keep you posted, but in the meantime, whatever herb you use: make this, stat.

(Update, September 2009: Fresh rosemary is perfect.)

24 ounces whole cherry tomatoes (about 4 cups), stemmed
¼ cup olive oil
5 garlic cloves, minced
1¼ teaspoons crushed red pepper flakes
1 tablespoon chopped fresh marjoram or rosemary
4 bone-in chicken breasts (10 to 12 ounces each)
salt and freshly ground black pepper

1. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

2. Toss the tomatoes, olive oil, garlic, red pepper flakes, and marjoram or rosemary in a large bowl to combine.

3. Place the chicken on a rimmed baking sheet. Pour the tomato mixture over the chicken, arranging the tomatoes in a single layer on the baking sheet around the chicken. Sprinkle generously with salt and pepper. Roast until the chicken is cooked through and the tomatoes are blistered, about 35 minutes.

4. Serve the chicken with tomatoes and cooking juices spooned over it.

Serves: 4
Time: 45 minutes

FULL-STOMACHED, EMPTY-HANDED

No recipes for you! Oh, the shame. Here I’ve been merrily cooking up a storm and utterly failing to document it. If it’s any consolation, I’ve barely even tried anything new over the last month. When hot weather strikes, all my culinary adventurousness goes right out the window and all I want is easy, familiar, reliable fare. Nothing that requires me to use the oven for longer than 20 minutes or stand over a glowing stove, or break into a hot sweat of panic about whether the recipe will lead me astray. If I could make pizza and BLTs and corn on the cob and hummus every week, I would—oh wait, I practically do.

I have been craving vegetables like you wouldn’t believe, and every week when I go to the farmers’ market I come back loaded down with more and more produce. I’ve had to start bringing a second canvas bag to tote all my purchases, and last week I even had to make an extra emergency stop at my car so I could drop off the heavy corn, potatoes, onions, zucchini, and peppers I was carrying and then go back to the market and get all the other things I needed. I just can’t help myself; it’s that magical time of the summer when everything seems to be in season at once—the summery things like strawberries and watermelon and tomatoes and peaches, but also the fallish things like bell peppers and squash. In particular, I’m utterly addicted to heirloom tomatoes. They come in such an array of pretty colors and charmingly deformed shapes, and with their meatiness and flavor they put all the “normal” tomatoes to shame. For some reason, our farmers’ market is deficient what I think of as good regular tomatoes, those big meaty red beefsteaks I grew up on in Minnesota; even during the height of tomato season, the non-heirloom tomatoes persist in resembling grocery-store tomatoes: suspiciously small and round and regular, hard, practically hollow once seeded, and anemically average in flavor. Is this a California thing? Like the fact that everyone sells the bland white corn on the cob instead of the candy-sweet yellow (there’s only one stand in the entire farmers’ market that has the tasty yellow-and-white “peaches and cream” corn that’s everywhere in Minnesota)?. I don’t get it.

It’s not really a recipe, but I did invent a delicious new creation inspired by the divine heirlooms and Trader Joe’s endlessly useful premade pizza dough. I whipped up some pesto in the blender, spread it over the rolled-out dough, covered it in sliced yellow and red tomatoes, baked it until the crust was browned and crisp and the tomatoes were roasty, and then topped it with slices of fresh mozzarella and baked it until the cheese melted. Heaven! But did I remember to photograph it? No, I did not. I’m still struggling to get pictures of my food before it’s scarfed up or turned into unphotogenic leftovers. I have, however, at least managed to add photos to two of my archived recipes:

Potato Casserole With Tomatoes and Mozzarella
Baked Penne and Tomatoes (which is even awesomer with mixed heirloom tomatoes, I’m happy to report)

The other thing I’m obsessed with is, inexplicably, baking cookies. It may be 95 degrees in Pasadena, yet I’m craving sweet melty baked goods fresh from the oven, fiendishly plotting which recipe to try next. In the past few months since acquiring my KitchenAid mixer (and better baking sheets and now silicon baking mats), I’ve baked a whopping 7 kinds of cookies. I’m too lazy to post all the recipes, but here are some capsule reviews.

From Carole Walter’s Great Cookies:
Chock Full o’ Crispies (coconut, oatmeal, nuts, Rice Krispies, all of which I love; I’d definitely make them again, especially when I need a break from chocolate)
Chocolate Coconut Devils (my current gold standard for best cookie ever)
Chocolate Sugar Snaps (bakery-quality great, not something I’ll need to make again and again, but perfect when you want straight-up chocolate)

From Dorie Greenspan’s Baking: From My Home to Yours:
Chocolate Malted Whopper Drops (unique, and certainly tasty, but too sweet for everyday eating and not as malty as I’d hoped)
Chunky Peanut Butter and Oatmeal Chocolate Chipsters (a good taste combo, but not a recipe I’ll repeat when there are so many others to try)

From Abigail Johnson Dodge’s The Weekend Baker:
Soft Chocolate-Almond Oatmeal Cookies (unique, soft and almost cake-like, with a gentler chocolate presence and nice almond flavor; they were certainly worth trying, but I quickly tired of eating them and still have a dozen or so sitting abandoned in my freezer)

From Nestle Toll House:
Chocolate-Chip Cookies (by request, for Carpool J’s birthday; they didn’t turn out exactly the way I like them, but they did remind me that plain old chocolate-chip may still be one of the best cookies ever)

Luckily, I’ve found that I like giving cookies away to friends nearly as much as I like baking them and eating them myself, so A and I haven’t been consuming all of this output singlehandedly. In fact, I think I’ve been downright restrained. I won’t lie—I love having a supply of cookies around the house (I’ll either eat them straight out of the freezer after dinner or slip one in my lunchbag to gradually defrost as a workday pick-me-up). But my appetite is more for the experimentation than for the sheer quantity of cookies. I want to try making as many different recipes as possible, just for the fun of making them and tasting the various combinations of flavors. (You may have noticed there are a few keywords that will lure me in to a cookies recipe every time, including almond, coconut, and oatmeal. Maybe I’m searching for that perfect recipe that will combine all my favorite flavors into one perfect whole.) Anyway, I’ve got a big stack of delicious-sounding cookie recipes still to try, so stay tuned….

LAST NIGHT’S DINNER IN PHOTOS

And so, finally, begins my new experiment of trying to add illustrations to my recipe postings. I think it’s clear from these pictures that (a) I have no future as a food stylist, and (b) the lighting in my kitchen is weird. Over time, you will also notice that (c) I do not own chic dishes. But (d), you’ll be treated to many a view of my adored retro-green tile countertops (sure, cleaning the grout is a pain, but I love being able to set hot pans directly on the counter) and old reliable silver Thermador stovetop.

Last night I tried making Flatbread With Asparagus and Spring Onions using Trader Joe’s premade pizza dough instead of the pain-in-the-neck from-scratch flatbread from Cooking Light. It worked like a charm, and it tasted even better than it looks:



I served the flatbread with Grilled Chicken Breasts With Basil and Tomato. I’d always found that recipe just a wee bit boring, but it complemented the flatbread perfectly. With a bowl of peaches and nectarines on the side, it made a very pretty (and tasty, and healthy) meal:



In other news, go and see Ratatouille immediately. I loved it (as did everyone else I know who’s seen it), and it’s a shame it’s not doing as well at the box office as other Pixar movies have. It’s well written, beautifully animated, has cute furry animals, and is a must-see for anyone who loves food. From the scars on the chefs’ hands to the Microplanes to the triumphant moment when (spoiler alert!) the evil critic’s heart melts as he takes a bite of a dish that transports him right back to his childhood, this is a celebration of cooking and eating. And afterward, check out The Smitten Kitchen’s gorgeous re-creation of the movie’s pivotal dish!

SHRIMP BOIL!

I don’t particularly like shrimp. I used to refuse it completely, abhorring the seafood flavor and chewy texture, though now I’ve evolved to a more enlightened I-can-take-it-or-leave-it mentality. But last August I discovered I really like a good shrimp boil. I was staying in a cabin in southern Minnesota with my extended family, and my aunt cooked up a whole mess of corn on the cob, potatoes, sausage, and shrimp in a spicy, beer-laced broth. Washed down with a cold bottle of beer, it was the perfect summer meal, and the most memorable of our vacation (although my happy memory is tempered by the fact that later that evening my mother had to be rushed to the emergency room for a mysterious [but probably non-shrimp-related] malady).

A few months ago, Cooking Light magazine conveniently printed a recipe for Frogmore Stew that almost exactly matched the ingredients I remembered from that happy summer shrimp boil. When my friend P recently decided to host a shrimp boil party at her house (and show Southern-themed movies like King Creole and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof), I passed on the recipe to her and assisted her in cooking it for the guests. As we appreciatively devoured our steaming plates of food, I was happy to note that the flavors matched my nostalgic memory nearly exactly. Better still, I’d seen how ridiculously easy it was to make. When A, who’d been out of town, expressed regret about missing the shrimp boil, it occurred to me that this was not some fussy special-occasion recipe, but a simple cooking method that (with the quantities reduced) would make a perfect summer dinner at home.

So on Sunday, I welcomed A back from Indiana with our very own personal shrimp boil. I split the recipe in half, which technically should have made 4 servings, but since I didn’t serve anything else for the meal except watermelon, we managed to eat a bit more than half of it during the first sitting. There was just enough left over for A’s lunch the next day. I accidentally ended up buying my Trader Joe’s frozen shrimp peeled, which probably made it turn out a little tougher than it should have, but it was still tasty. I used three ears of corn instead of two, because I love corn. I was worried the food was going to turn out horribly spicy, because while the crushed red pepper flakes were boiling, they emitted a peppery steam so powerful it made my eyes water and my throat burn, setting me coughing each time I leaned over the pot to add another ingredient. Don’t fret if this happens to you, though—the final product was only mildly spiced, and jn fact, I found myself thinking as I ate that it maybe could have been a little spicier. We used chili powder at P’s because she didn’t have any red pepper flakes (how does one live without red pepper flakes?), so maybe I’ll try adding a little of that next time. Overall, though, this is a trouble-free, casual, decadent-feeling but light meal that I plan on making often throughout the summer. Give it a try, y’all!

3 quarts water
1 tablespoon kosher salt
1 tablespoon crushed red pepper flakes
1 tablespoon ground cumin
2 teaspoons dried thyme
2 teaspoons coarsely ground black pepper
8 garlic cloves, peeled and mashed
4 bay leaves
2 (12-ounce) bottles beer
1 medium onion, cut into 8 wedges
2 pounds small red potatoes, quartered (if they’re really tiny, you can leave them whole)
1 pound smoked sausage (I use chicken andouille), cut into ½-inch-thick slices
4 ears shucked corn, halved crosswise
2 pounds large shrimp, unpeeled (thawed under cold running water if frozen)

1. Bring the first 10 ingredients to a boil in an 8-quart stockpot.

2. Add potatoes and sausage and cook for 12 minutes.

3. Add corn and cook for 4 minutes.

4. Add shrimp and cook for 2 minutes or until shrimp are done.

5. Drain, and discard bay leaves.

Serves: 8
Time: 30 minutes

TOMATO-PARSLEY LINGUINE WITH CRUNCHY POTATO CROUTONS

Pasta with potatoes always sounds like starchy overload, but it sure can be delicious. In this dish, the raw tomatoes and parsley do a great job of brightening the flavor and keeping the food from feeling heavy. The browned potato chunks provide a unique savory, salty, crispy contrast. Although it takes a little time to boil the potatoes, cool them, cube them, and get them suitably oven-fried (especially if, like me, you have a non-functioning broiler—cooking them on the bottom rack at 500 degrees took a little longer, but still did the trick), this is still a really easy recipe to put together, since nothing else (except the pasta) needs to be cooked. The result is a surprisingly summery meal.

2 medium baking potatoes (about 1¼ pounds)
salt to taste
5 tablespoons olive oil
freshly ground black pepper to taste
½ cup tightly packed minced fresh Italian parsley leaves
2 medium cloves garlic, minced
3 medium ripe tomatoes (about 1¼ pounds)
1 pound linguine

1. Bring several quarts of water to a boil in a medium saucepan. Scrub potatoes under cold, running water but do not peel them. Add the potatoes and salt to the boiling water. Cook until a metal skewer slides easily into the center of the potatoes, 15–20 minutes. The potatoes should be soft but not mushy. Drain the potatoes and let cool.

2. While potatoes are boiling, combine the parsley, garlic, 3 tablespoons oil, and salt and pepper to taste in a medium bowl. Core and cut tomatoes in half; working over the sink, squeeze out as many seeds as possible. Cut the tomatoes into ½-inch cubes, toss with the parsley mixture, and set aside.

3. While potatoes are cooling, preheat the broiler and bring 4 quarts salted water to a boil for cooking the pasta.

4. Cut the potatoes into ¼-inch cubes and toss in a medium bowl with 2 tablespoons oil, plus salt and pepper to taste. Lightly grease a baking sheet with olive oil and spread the potatoes on it in a single layer. Broil, turning several times, until potatoes are golden brown and crisp, 5–7 minutes.

5. While potatoes are broiling, cook the pasta. Reserve ¼ cup of the starchy pasta water, then drain the rest. Toss linguine with the tomato and parsley mixture and most of the potato croutons, adding reserved pasta water as needed to keep things moist. Serve garnished with the remaining croutons.

Serves: 6
Time: 1 hour

RISOTTO WITH VEGETABLES

I haven’t been doing much cooking lately, because A’s out of town for the Fourth of July. I’d envisioned spending my free time during this solitary week in the kitchen, whipping up elaborate delicacies too ambitious or impractical or non-A-friendly to make on an ordinary day. But then temperatures soared into the 90s, and our kitchen faucet clogged again (postscript: it’s fixed now, maybe for good—KNOCK ON WOOD), and suddenly the last thing I wanted to do was spend time in the kitchen. Last night I sweated through the making of a batch of Pasta Ascuitta that I figure will pretty much last me all week, supplemented with some easy sandwiches, salads, and snacks. And pizza, of course. ’Tis the glory of the bachelor life.

Lucky for you, I still have a backlog of recipes to post, so here’s a risotto recipe I’ve had for ages. I think it might be from, of all places, the pedestrian red-and-white-checkered Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook. Whatevs, it’s full of cheese and vegetables and totally tasty. Even A, the purported risotto-hater, agrees.

2 cups sliced mushrooms
½ cup chopped onion
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 cup Arborio rice
3–4 cups vegetable or chicken broth
¾ cup bite-sized asparagus or broccoli pieces
¾ cup seeded and diced tomato
¼ cup shredded carrot
1 cup shredded Fontina or Muenster cheese (4 ounces)
¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese
3 tablespoons minced fresh basil or parsley

1. In a saucepan, bring broth to boiling; reduce heat and simmer.

2. While broth is heating, heat oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Sauté mushrooms, onion, and garlic until onion is tender. Add uncooked rice and cook, stirring, over medium heat about 5 minutes or until rice is golden.

3. Slowly add 1 cup of broth to the rice mixture, stirring constantly. Continue to cook and stir over medium heat until liquid is absorbed. Add another ½ cup broth and the asparagus or broccoli, stirring constantly. Continue to cook and stir until liquid is absorbed. Add another 1 cup broth, ½ cup at a time, stirring constantly until liquid is absorbed. (This should take about 15 minutes.)

4. Stir in the remaining ½ cup broth, the tomato, and the carrot. Cook and stir until rice is slightly creamy and just tender (add more broth or water and let it be absorbed, if necessary). Stir in cheese and basil or parsley.

Serves: 4
Time: 45 minutes

FLATBREAD WITH ASPARAGUS AND SPRING ONIONS

Asparagus week continues! I tore this recipe out of a recent issue of Cooking Light, tried it for the first time a few weeks ago, and really liked it. The toppings are a slam dunk: they reminded me of that awesome, bygone Sidney’s asparagus-and-Brie pizza I mentioned a few days ago, even though it uses Fontina instead (hmm, I wonder if I could substitute Brie?). Plus, it was a noble use of those handsome spring onions I’m always seeing at the farmers’ market. I suspect, however, that the flatbread itself might not quite be worth the trouble it took to make. The recipe does warn that the dough will be sticky, but my dough was very sticky. Probably because I hadn’t been able to find bread flour at my grocery store, so I’d just used all-purpose instead. I realize that if I don’t use the specified ingredients it’s my fault when the result isn’t exactly right, but any recipe that wants me to clutter up my cupboard with some kind of specialty flour gets a demerit in my book anyway.

Since the recipe makes 2 flatbreads that each (ostensibly) serve 6, I’d decided to just make one flatbread. I halved the topping quantities, but the flatbread recipe seemed harder to halve, so I just made the full recipe and then split the dough into two pieces after it had risen, thinking I’d use one half and freeze the other to use another time. But the dough was so hard to roll out—not only was it sticky, but it also tore easily—and I added so much flour in trying to shape it that I ruined the first flatbread and had to throw it away. Good thing I had another piece of dough handy.

For all that work and mess, the flatbread turned out just about average. The texture was nice—tender with a crispy bottom—but with Trader Joe’s selling balls of really great premade pizza dough for just 99 cents, I’m tempted to just scrap the flatbread-from-scratch part of the recipe and turn these tasty toppings into a more convenient meal I can make more often—and on average weeknights, at that. I’ll let you know how it goes, but for now, here’s the recipe as originally written:

Flatbread:
Dash of sugar
1 package dry yeast (about 2¼ teaspoons)
¾ cup plus 3 tablespoons warm water (100 to 110 degrees), divided
2 cups plus 3 tablespoons bread flour, divided (about 10 2/3 ounces)
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
½ teaspoon salt

Toppings:
2½ teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 garlic clove, minced
4 cups thinly sliced spring onions (about 2½ pounds)
¼ teaspoon salt
3 cups (1-inch pieces) asparagus (about 1 pound)
¾ cup (3 ounces) shredded Fontina cheese

1. To make flatbread, dissolve sugar and yeast in ¼ cup water in a large bowl, and let stand 5 minutes. Add ¼ cup flour (to measure flour, lightly spoon into dry measuring cup and level with a knife) to yeast mixture, stirring with a whisk. Cover with a damp kitchen towel and let stand 30 minutes (mixture will be bubbly).

2. Uncover yeast mixture and add ½ cup plus 3 tablespoons water. Add 1¾ cups flour, 1 tablespoon oil, and ½ teaspoon salt, stirring until a soft dough forms. Turn out the dough onto a floured surface and knead until smooth and elastic, about 10 minutes. While kneading, add enough of the remaining 3 tablespoons of flour, 1 tablespoon at a time, to prevent dough from sticking to hands (dough should still feel sticky).

3. Place dough in a large bowl lightly coated with olive oil, turning to coat all sides of dough. Cover and let rise in a warm place (85 degrees), free from drafts, 1 hour or until doubled in size. (To check whether dough has risen enough, gently press two fingers into it. The indentation should remain.)

4. Punch dough down and divide in half. Working with one portion at a time (cover remaining dough to prevent drying), roll each portion into a 12-inch circle on a floured surface. Place 1 dough circle on a pizza peel sprinkled with 1 tablespoon cornmeal. (Note: I don’t have a pizza peel or a pizza stone, so I just put my rolled-out dough—which was more rectangular than round—on the cookie sheet I usually use for pizza.)

5. Place a pizza stone (if you have one) on the bottom rack of the oven. Preheat oven to 500 degrees.

6. To prepare toppings, combine 2½ teaspoons oil and garlic in a small bowl and let stand 30 minutes. (You’ll want to do this somewhere in the middle of Step 3, while your dough is rising.)

7. Heat a small amount of olive oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium heat. Add spring onions and ¼ teaspoon salt; cover and cook for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. Uncover and cook for 3 more minutes or until golden, stirring frequently. Remove from heat.

8. Cook asparagus in boiling water 2 minutes or until crisp-tender. Drain; rinse under cold water.

9. Brush dough circle with half of the garlic-oil mixture, then arrange half of the onions and half the asparagus over the dough, leaving a ½-inch border. Top with half of the shredded cheese. Slide dough onto preheated pizza stone (or if you’re just using a baking sheet, put the baking sheet on the bottom rack in the oven) and bake for 9 minutes or until lightly browned. Repeat procedure with remaining dough circle, cornmeal, garlic mixture, onions, asparagus, and cheese.

Serves: 8–12
Time: 2½ hours

Postscript: I tried it with the premade crust and it was great. Updated recipe is as follows:

3 teaspoons olive oil
1 garlic clove, minced
2 cups thinly sliced spring onions or large scallions (about 1¼ pounds)
¼ teaspoon salt
1½ cups (1-inch pieces) asparagus (about ½ pound)
½ cup (1½ ounces) Fontina cheese, shredded
freshly ground black pepper to taste
pizza dough for 1 pizza (1 lb)
1 tablespoon cornmeal

1. Combine 2 teaspoons olive oil with garlic in a small bowl and let stand 30 minutes.

2. Meanwhile, heat 1 teaspoon olive oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium heat. Add spring onions and ¼ teaspoon salt; cover and cook for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. Uncover and cook for 3 more minutes or until golden, stirring frequently. Remove from heat and set aside.

3. Preheat oven to 500 degrees.

4. Trim tough ends from asparagus and cut spears into 1-inch pieces. Cook asparagus in boiling water for 2 minutes or until crisp-tender. Drain and rinse under cold water; set aside.

5. Roll pizza dough into a circle or rectangle on a floured surface. Place dough on a baking pan sprinkled with cornmeal. Brush dough with garlic-oil mixture. Arrange onions on top, and then asparagus. Sprinkle with black pepper to taste and top with cheese. Bake on bottom rack of oven for about 9 minutes or until lightly browned.

Serves: 4
Time: 1 hour

FRESH ASPARAGUS SOUP

Another random recipe from my archives, in keeping with yesterday's asparagus theme. (This is yet another of the pureed soups on which I’ve tested my fabulous new immersion blender over the past month.) It’s a good spring soup—fresh, lively, and a pretty shade of green. The yogurt adds an interesting tangy kick to the common asparagus-lemon-Parmesan combination. I like to serve garlic bread on the side for dipping, which helps temper the soup's tendency toward tartness.

1 pound trimmed and chopped fresh asparagus
¾ cup chopped onion
1¾ cups vegetable or chicken broth
1 tablespoon butter
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 cup milk
½ cup plain yogurt
1 teaspoon lemon juice
¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese

1. Place asparagus and onion in a saucepan with ½ cup broth. Bring the broth to a boil, reduce heat, and let simmer until the vegetables are tender (don’t overcook the asparagus, though).

2. Place the vegetable mixture in a blender and puree until smooth.

3. Melt butter in the pan that was used for simmering the vegetables. Stir while sprinkling in flour, salt, and pepper. Do not let flour brown. Allow the mixture to cook only 2 minutes. Stir in the remaining 1¼ cups broth and increase the heat. Continue stirring until the mixture comes to a boil.

4. Stir the vegetable puree and milk into the saucepan. Whisk in yogurt, followed by lemon juice. Stir until heated through, then ladle into bowls. Sprinkle with Parmesan cheese and black pepper.

Serves: 4
Time: 30 minutes

ASPARAGUS AND BRIE FRITTATA

Another of those poor, orphaned I’ve-had-this-forever-and-don’t-know-where-it-came-from-or-why-I’ve-never-posted-it recipes. I’m always attracted to egg recipes (frittatas, stratas, quiches) because they seem so cozy and yet somehow elegant, but most of the time they end up disappointing me with blandness. I don’t think I like eggs quite as much as I’d like to. Still, this recipe gives me hope. It is indeed both cozy and elegant; it’s insanely easy to make; you can eat it for brunch or dinner. Best of all, it contains one of my favorite flavor combinations, asparagus and Brie (I’m still lamenting the demise of the Sidney’s restaurant chain in the Twin Cities, solely because it means I’ll never again get to taste its gorgeous asparagus and Brie pizza).

I like this for dinner, with a green salad and maybe some toast.


2 cups cut asparagus
4 green onions, chopped
1 tablespoon butter
6 eggs
½ teaspoon salt
pepper to taste
⅓ cup milk
½ cup Brie, cut into small pieces

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

2. In a medium skillet, melt butter over medium-high heat and sauté asparagus and onions until tender, about 4 minutes.

3. Meanwhile, whisk eggs, salt, pepper, and milk together in a large bowl. Pour into a buttered 9-inch-square baking dish and top with asparagus mixture. Bake 5–10 minutes, until somewhat set.

4. Remove from oven and top with Brie. Put back in oven to bake 5–10 minutes more, until eggs are set and cheese is melted and slightly toasted on the edges.

Serves: 4
Time: 30 minutes

CORN CHOWDER WITH BACON, LEEKS, AND POTATOES

I realize that I promised to post this recipe “tomorrow” about two weeks ago, but I plead extenuating circumstances. We’ve been continually battling a domino-like series of plumbing problems that’s left us, variously, without hot water, a working kitchen faucet, or a properly draining kitchen sink. I’ve had to call upon my resourceful Midwestern pioneer roots to find viable ways to keep cooking and cleaning in spite of our apartment’s vagaries: boiling hot water on the stove for dishes! Carrying water from the bathtub faucet to cook pasta! Rinsing carrots in the bathroom sink! It’s been all kinds of fun. Occasionally, I’ve had to admit defeat and just order a pizza, or go out to a restaurant to escape the chaotic kitchen. Under these conditions, thinking about cooking just frustrated me. Things finally seem to be on the mend, however (KNOCK ON WOOD), so I can face posting recipes again.

Also on the mend: the tip of my left pinky finger, which I nearly hacked off in an alarming knife mishap while slicing onions for this green chicken korma recipe last week. (Jury’s still out on the recipe. It was OK, but not as flavorful as I expected; I was hoping it would taste just like that green chutney our local Indian restaurant serves with the papadum. It wasn’t too hard to make, but I’m still not sure I’ll want to go through the trouble of doing it again, especially since I now associate it with traumatic flesh wounds.) It was definitely the most severe injury I’ve ever sustained while cooking, and I’m still keeping it under bandages to avoid grossing people out, but it’s healing well and probably won’t even leave a scar. It did impede my typing for a while, though.

So, now that the excuses are done, here’s a tasty summer soup recipe adapted from Jack Bishop’s Vegetables Every Day. If you want a vegetarian version, consult Bishop’s book, but we love this bacon-y variation. I love how simple the recipe is—only 8 ingredients!—and yet how deeply flavorful, thanks to the ingenious concept of boiling the corn cobs for extra-rich corn flavor. Because the recipe calls for whole ears of corn, it’s best to make it at the height of corn season; I’d been eagerly awaiting the appearance of corn at our farmers’ market specifically so I could make this soup. Well, and also corn fritters. And spicy corn on the cob, of course. And there’s this fresh summer succotash recipe I’ve been meaning to try….

Er, anyway, enjoy the chowder while I daydream about corn.

5 medium ears corn
4–6 strips bacon, diced
2 medium leeks, white and light green parts only, sliced thin
2 cups milk
¾ pound red potatoes, peeled and cut into ½-inch dice
salt
freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons minced fresh parsley leaves

1. Remove the husks and silk from the corn. Stand each ear on its end and slice downward with a chef’s knife to remove all the kernels. (Reserve the cobs.) You should have about 3½ cups of kernels.

2. Place the corn cobs and water to cover (about 4 cups) in a large saucepan. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat, partially cover, and simmer gently for 20 minutes. Pick out and discard the cobs. Strain and reserve 3 cups corn broth; discard remainder.

3. Sauté bacon in a large saucepan until fat has rendered, about 3 minutes. Add the leeks and continue to sauté over medium heat until bacon is crisp and leeks have softened, about 5 minutes. Add the corn broth, milk, potatoes, and salt and pepper to taste. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer gently until potatoes are almost tender, about 15 minutes. Add corn kernels and continue to simmer gently until corn and potatoes are tender, about 10 minutes.

4. Puree 2 cups of the soup in a blender (I, of course, use my new best friend, the Cuisinart SmartStick). Return puree to pot and reheat gently. Stir in parsley and adjust seasonings.

Serves: 4–6
Time: 1 hour, 15 minutes

FAVORITE THINGS (NOT MENTIONED: CRISP APPLE STRUDEL OR SCHNIZTEL WITH NOODLES, ALTHOUGH THOSE ARE NICE TOO)

Why haven’t I posted for a month and a half?

(A) Now that I’ve reached the ripe age of 30, I’m devoting my time exclusively to important, meaningful, responsible, sober, and grown-up pursuits, such as teaching underprivileged children to read, writing the Great American Novel, training for marathons, and getting ahead in corporate America.

(B) After being distracted by a string of Very Exciting Birthdays in April, I spent much of May traveling and eating in restaurants, often very indulgently (cf. Carbone’s pizza in St. Paul and a whole slew of fried goods in Memphis), so that whenever I was home I obsessively struck to the familiar, safe, tried-and-true, and austerely healthy dishes in my repertoire instead of experimenting with new, exciting, blogworthy recipes.

(C) I’m a lazy loser who can’t get her act together.

Whatever the reason, I’m just bursting with exciting food-related news. First and foremost, three notable birthday gifts:

1. From a group of thoughtful and generous friends, a long-coveted KitchenAid stand mixer! I promptly followed this up with the purchase of some new baking sheets that don’t let everything burn, plus Great Cookies by Carole Walter, which is full of the most delicious and foolproof cookie recipes I’ve ever tried. In the past month, the KitchenAid and I have whipped up (and shared with the aforementioned gift-giving friends) Chock Full o’ Crunchies (cookies with coconut, pecans, and Rice Krispies), Chocolate Sugar Snaps, and my absolute favorite, Chocolate Coconut Devils (chocolate + coconut + almond flavoring = heaven to me). I want to try just about every recipe in this book. I haven’t experimented with making bread using the mixer’s dough hook yet, but I’m already contemplating asking for the pasta-making attachment for Christmas. Homemade ravioli—how awesome would that be?

2. From A’s mom, the miraculously handy Cuisinart SmartStick immersion blender. I love pureed soups, but it’s such a drag to go through the messy rigmarole of pouring hot soup into my cranky old blender and then back into the pot, and then washing the blender and its many tiny parts. Enter the SmartStick. I stick the end into the pot of soup, I press a button, and its sharp little blade whips chunks of vegetables into velvety-smooth liquid right before my eyes. Easy to use, easy to wash, easy to store…SmartStick, where have you been all my life?

3. From my parents, a sweet, sleek little digital camera of my very own; no longer do I have to share A’s elderly, rather temperamental one. Now that it’s so much easier for me to take and upload photos, I’m dying to try adding photos to the site. (When contemplating a new recipe for the first time, I think we all appreciate knowing what the food will look like when it’s finished.) Of course, when I’m hungry and tired after a bout of cooking, I’m focused on eating the food, not whipping out my camera to take pictures of it. So first I have to remember to take pictures of the recipes, then I have to overcome my laziness enough to actually post them. This may or may not ever happen. But the potential is there!

Other food things I’ve been enjoying lately:

1. Presented with a bounty of lemons from a coworker’s backyard tree, P and I canned strawberry-lemon marmalade and then made lemon curd, which is one of the most delicious things I’ve ever tasted. It’s currently sitting in my freezer while I try to figure out a more noble use for it than just devouring it with a spoon. I’m thinking pie or cake—anyone have a good recipe that uses lemon curd?

2. Summer has arrived at the farmers’ market, throwing me into a frenzy of delight every Saturday morning. In the past few weeks I’ve had my first corn on the cob, cherries, watermelon, apricots, peaches, and nectarines of the year. I come home so laden with fruits and vegetables I can barely walk, thinking, “This is what I love about living in California.” Also, I’m obsessed with BLTs, my ideal summer meal. Is once a week too often to make them, do you think?

3. A few weeks ago I visited Memphis for the first time, and it turns out I love Southern food! (I wasn’t entirely certain, having never had what I considered to be the real thing.) People really know how to cook down there, and how to eat. Even though I rather sickeningly overdosed on deep-fried foods and was craving sushi and salads by the end of the four-day weekend, the biscuits alone were worth the trip. I’ve never in my life had biscuits so soft and fluffy…how do they do that? Also notable: fried green tomatoes, sweet potato pie, pecan pie, fried catfish, hushpuppies, and mint juleps. And anywhere where macaroni and cheese is categorized as a vegetable is definitely my kind of place.

I’ve updated the list of recommended food books to include Great Cookies, as well as Nigel Slater’s entrancing The Kitchen Diaries, which is the kind of simple, thoughtful writing about daily cooking and eating that I only wish I could give you. Stay tuned tomorrow for a recipe that happens to involve three of the favorite things listed here: bacon, fresh corn on the cob, and the SmartStick!

ROAST CHICKEN WITH POTATOES, ASPARAGUS, AND LEMON

This is a recipe perfect for the transition from winter to spring. After I cooked it on Sunday night, while we were digging into plates piled high with lemony, juicy chicken, tender browned potatoes, and perfectly roasted asparagus, I mentioned to A that I’d found the recipe on the Martha Stewart Web site.

“God bless Martha!” he proclaimed, sucking a leg bone clean and wiping his fingers. “Winfrey and Stewart in ’08!”

I pointed out that, as a convicted felon, Martha can’t even vote, so it’s doubtful she can hold an elected office. Neither of us was sure whether this also means she isn’t eligible for an appointed position, but we tentatively settled upon naming her Secretary of State. Surely (even though it was more likely created by her minions at the magazine) Martha deserves some sort of honor for bringing us this delectable, insanely easy recipe. Seriously: toss potatoes and butter in pan and bake; add chicken and bake; add asparagus and lemon and thyme and bake; eat. That’s pretty much all there is to it. It’s the kind of thing that sounds so simple it can’t possibly taste like anything special, but not so! After dinner, while ostensibly cleaning the kitchen, I kept delaying rinsing out the roasting pan so I could dip leftover potatoes in the remaining pan juices.


1½ pounds small new potatoes, halved
3 tablespoons butter
salt and pepper
1 whole cut-up chicken (about 3 pounds)
1 pound asparagus
1 lemon, cut into 8 wedges
6 sprigs fresh thyme

1. Preheat oven to 475 degrees.

2. Place potatoes and 1½ tablespoons butter in a large, shallow roasting pan; season with salt and pepper. Roast, tossing once, until potatoes are golden, 20–25 minutes.

3. Place chicken, skin side up, on top of potatoes and season with salt and pepper. Roast until chicken begins to brown about 20–25 minutes.

4. Scatter asparagus, lemon, and thyme around chicken. Cut remaining 1½ tablespoons butter into small pieces and sprinkle on top. Roast until asparagus is tender and chicken is opaque throughout (and nicely browned), 5–15 minutes. Serve chicken and vegetables drizzled with pan juices.

Serves: 4
Time: 1 hour 15 minutes

FALAFEL WITH CILANTRO YOGURT SAUCE

Made this last Thursday night. Be forewarned, it’s not falafel as you might expect to find it in a restaurant; maybe a better term would be “chickpea burger” or “hummus fritter.” Whatever it is, it’s good: light, healthy, not hard to make. Basically you’re just making a modified, thicker, cheerfully green version of hummus—pureeing garbanzos in the blender with seasonings—and then pan-frying it. The cayenne adds a nice, subtle heat, nicely balanced by the cool, refreshing cilantro-lemon yogurt sauce.

I’ve had this recipe for ages, taken from some long-forgotten source. I made it for the first time when I was living the swingin’ studio-apartment life in St. Paul, and it didn’t turn out so great, so I shelved it. When I unearthed it again after my move to California, I nearly got rid of it. Instead, I gave it another try, and I’m so glad I did. With a bit more cooking experience under my belt, I realized my problem the first time around had been that the recipe was just bonkers. Pureeing the ingredients in the blender creates a smooth, sticky, semi-liquid batter, like a stiff hummus. Yet somehow, the recipe was asking me to form this mess into patties with my hands and dredge them in flour, an endeavor that naturally led to less-than-perfect results. It seemed much more sensible to treat the mixture like a fritter batter, which is what I did: I just stirred in a bit of extra flour to give it some body, spooned it into the pan in four separate dollops, and squashed each one down. I also made sure to get the oil good and hot, something I was always too lily-livered to do as a beginning cook. With these modifications, the falafels fried up perfectly, making the recipe a keeper. Finally, my obsession with fritters pays off!

1 cup plain yogurt
1 cup chopped fresh cilantro
1 cup chopped onion
5 large garlic cloves, chopped
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
½ teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 (15-ounce) can garbanzo beans, rinsed and drained
3 tablespoons plus ½ cup all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons ground cumin
1 large egg
olive oil
4 warm pocket pita breads, cut in half
sliced tomatoes
lettuce

1. Whisk yogurt, ½ cup cilantro, ¼ cup onion, 1 chopped garlic clove, lemon juice, and ¼ teaspoon cayenne in a medium bowl; season with salt and pepper. Chill until ready to serve.

2. Blend garbanzo beans, 3 tablespoons flour, cumin, remaining ½ cup cilantro, 4 garlic cloves, and ¼ teaspoon cayenne in a blender or food processor until almost smooth. Add egg and remaining ¾ cup onion and blend until onion is finely chopped. Transfer mixture to bowl; sprinkle with salt and pepper. Gradually mix in about ¼ cup more flour, until batter reaches desired consistency.

3. Pour enough oil into a large, heavy skillet to coat the bottom; heat over medium-high heat. When fully hot, drop in ¼ of the batter and press down with the back of a spoon to make a patty. Repeat with remaining batter to make 4 patties. Cook until crisp and golden, about 8 minutes per side.

4. Cut each patty in half. Slide a half patty, sliced tomato, and lettuce into each pita pocket. Spoon in some yogurt mixture.

Serves: 4
Time: 30 minutes

CHICKEN BREASTS WITH FRESH MOZZARELLA

I continue to lag behind in my postings; I made this recipe a week ago. But even though it’s old news, I thought you should know about it, because it’s a reliable, no-fuss way to dress up a chicken breast. I’ve made it at least six times before, often to use up mozzarella left over from another recipe. But I never got around to writing it up, probably because it’s almost too simple to talk about, just sautéed chicken breasts with cheese and basil and a classy pan sauce. This recipe is good to make on a weeknight after a long workday and commute, or on a summer evening when you don’t feel like using the stove for more than 15 minutes or washing more than one pan. Have salad on the side or, as I did this time, roasted asparagus. Since A was working late, I experimented a little, making my cheesy chicken breast (drizzled with the pan sauce and nestled into a handful of on-the-verge-of-wilting salad greens from the bottom of the crisper drawer) into a sandwich on toasted leftover no-knead bread. It wasn’t amazing, but it was nice.

4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (about 1½ pounds)
* Or 2 large breasts, each cut in half horizontally to make 4
salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 garlic clove, peeled and slightly crushed
½ cup dry white wine
4 ounces fresh mozzarella, cut into 4 slices
4 large leaves fresh basil

1. Rinse the chicken and pat dry. Season with salt and pepper.

2. Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat and add the garlic. Add the chicken breasts and cook 6–10 minutes, until golden brown on both sides and almost cooked through. Remove chicken from pan and place on a plate.

3. Add the wine to the pan, scraping to release any browned bits on the bottom, and simmer briefly to reduce the sauce by half. Return the chicken to the pan and cook 1 minute.

4. Place a slice of fresh mozzarella and a basil leaf on top of each chicken breast. Cover the pan, remove it from the heat, and set aside for a few minutes to let the mozzarella soften and begin to melt. Sprinkle with chicken with additional salt and pepper as desired. Remove the garlic clove from the pan and discard. Place each chicken breast on a plate and spoon sauce over it.

Serves: 4
Time: 25 minutes

STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE

Monday was my thirtieth birthday. Birthdays, especially milestone birthdays, are always an excellent excuse for gluttony, so even though I’d be receiving cake at the office, a Chinese dinner on Monday night, and a beach bonfire with a homemade-marshmallow smorgasbord the following weekend, I decided that on Sunday night, my birthday eve, I should cook some treats for myself. Plus, we had a guest, A’s mom, so I could pass my feast off as hospitality instead of selfishness. I made the infamous Brie pasta (which, due to its all-out decadence and my passionate love for it, I’d prudently avoided making for more than a year) and a nice green salad. Then I made strawberry shortcake.

I’d bought an obscene amount of strawberries at the farmers’ market that morning (a half-flat, six pint baskets, for $8). I sliced about a basket and a half of them and put them in a bowl with some sugar to macerate (hee, I love that word) while I made the biscuits.

Though I’ll contentedly eat strawberries and whipped cream over pound cake or angel food cake, or even those round divoted “strawberry shortcake” bases from the grocery store, I don’t call that real strawberry shortcake. Real strawberry shortcake should be made with biscuits. But since I’m not a baker or a glutton for punishment, and it was my birthday and I felt I deserved to take a shortcut, I made the biscuits from Bisquick, using the recipe on the side of the box (I halved it, so it conveniently made just three). They were easy and they tasted great. But to compensate, I made real whipped cream, which I’d never done before. I chilled the bowl and the beaters in the refrigerator. I poured the cream into the bowl and beat it with the electric hand mixer. It took long enough that I started to worry it would never firm up (and started sighing for a KitchenAid stand mixer), but it finally started to thicken, at which point I added a little sugar and vanilla. Finally, after a bit more beating, I achieved soft peaks. To serve, I broke up the still-warm biscuits with my hands into three bowls, spooned the juicy strawberries on top, and scooped on the whipped cream.

I don’t eat strawberry shortcake often, and whenever I eat it, a tide of nostalgia washes over me. It reminds me, intensely, wistfully, of childhood summers. (Actually, what it truly reminds me of is strawberry pie, absolutely my favorite treat my mother ever made, probably because, given the briefness of strawberry season in Minnesota, it was so rare and fleeting. I never felt like I got enough of it. Now I don’t get my mom’s version at all, and even the inferior store or restaurant versions are hard to find.) Anyway, what I’m trying to say was that this strawberry shortcake was heavenly. Now that I know how easy it is to make, I’m going to be tempted to make it often throughout California’s ridiculously long strawberry season. Certainly I might have to make it again this weekend; after all, I’ve still got at least three pints of strawberries to use up.

1½ pints fresh strawberries
2–4 tablespoons sugar
1 and 1/6 cup Bisquick
1½ tablespoons butter, melted
¼ cup milk
1½ tablespoons sugar
whipping cream
1 teaspoon sugar
1 drop vanilla

1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees.

2. Remove the stems from the strawberries and cut strawberries into ¼-inch-thick slices. Place in a large bowl and sprinkle with 2–4 tablespoons sugar (depending on how sweet your strawberries are). Mix well and set aside at room temperature for about 20 minutes.

3. To make biscuits, stir Bisquick, melted butter, milk, and 1½ tablespoons sugar together in a mixing bowl until a soft dough forms. Drop by 3 spoonfuls onto a greased cookie sheet. Bake 10 minutes or until golden brown.

4. Whip the cream to soft peaks in a cold bowl, adding a teaspoon of sugar and a drop of vanilla.

5. Break up each biscuit into a bowl, spoon strawberries over it, and top with a dollop of whipped cream.

Serves: 3
Time: 30 minutes

MINI-MEATBALL SOUP

I don't intend to make this into some kind of Rachael Ray fanblog, but here’s yet another great recipe from her. It’s just that I wanted to make soup to go with my No-Knead bread on Easter, and I’m yearning for an immersion blender so much, I refuse to make any more pureed soups until I acquire one. (Update: THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to A’s mother, who bought me a Cuisinart SmartStick for my birthday; it’s currently winging its way to me from Amazon, and I’m already pondering what kind of pureed soup to make first.) That didn’t leave many options in my recipe archive, so I happened to turn to my copy of RR’s 30-Minute Meals, where I happened to have bookmarked this recipe. I had some oldish ground beef in the freezer that needed to be used up, and just the right amount of homemade chicken stock left over after making risotto, and some egg noodles taking up too much space in the cupboard (RR called for ditalini, but I figured I could break up the egg noodles into smaller pieces), so it felt like destiny.

Verdict: The recipe was super-easy. And it was tasty, like chicken noodle soup crossed with meatloaf—two comfort foods in one! Besides the egg-noodle substitution, I didn’t make many changes to the recipe. RR had asked for “Italian breadcrumbs,” which I’m guessing meant store-bought, flavored ones; I improved on that by crumbling up my own fresh crumbs from an old baguette and adding dried oregano and basil to the meatballs.

Yet again, however, I’ve noticed that the version of this recipe posted online at the Food Network site is significantly different than the one in my book. I can only conclude that with her huge media success, RR (or her Food Network handlers) retooled her earlier recipes to be a little fancier. The online recipe had a few improvements I’d like to incorporate next time: it called for more vegetables (2 carrots and 2 celery instead of 1 of each; I split the difference in my typed version below and said 1–2) and had some spinach added at the end, which would be yummy, more colorful, and more healthful too. I’ve made it optional in my version. The other differences, though, seemed silly. The Food Network version asks for mixed beef, pork, and veal for the meatballs, which just adds unnecessary complication to a simple homestyle dish. And for some reason the FN version has you cook the meatballs by boiling them in the soup, rather than browning them in a pan. I suppose that might save a little time, but I can’t believe it would help the flavor; the taste of browned meat is an important component here. Even in the professionally styled photograph that accompanies the online recipe, the meatballs look pale and gray and soggy. Blecch! Do yourself a favor and pan-brown them (which, it seems to me, also lets you render and drain away some of the beef fat instead of dumping it all into the soup).

1 pound lean ground beef
1 egg
½ cup plain fresh breadcrumbs
⅓ cup grated Parmesan cheese
1 teaspoon garlic powder
½ teaspoon dried oregano
½ teaspoon dried basil
½ medium onion, chopped, plus ¼ onion, minced
salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
1–2 carrots, chopped
1–2 stalks celery, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 pinches ground nutmeg
6 cups chicken broth
½ cup ditalini or small egg noodles
1 handful chopped Italian parsley
a few handfuls chopped fresh spinach (optional)

1. In a large bowl, combine beef, egg, breadcrumbs, Parmesan, garlic powder, oregano, basil, minced onion, and salt and pepper to taste. Mix well with your hands. Form into ½-inch balls (I used a teaspoon measuring spoon to help me gauge the right amount to scoop up) and place in a nonstick skillet. Cook over medium or medium-high heat until browned, shaking pan every few minutes to brown evenly.

2. While meatballs are cooking, heat olive oil in a large soup pot over medium heat. Add carrot, celery, chopped onion, and garlic; sprinkle vegetables with nutmeg, salt, and pepper and cook 5 minutes. Add broth and turn heat up to high. When broth boils, drop in noodles and reduce heat to simmer. Cook 8–10 minutes, until pasta is al dente.

3. Drop in meatballs and parsley. Add spinach if desired, and cook until it wilts.

Serves: 4
Time: 30 minutes

NO-KNEAD BREAD

Sheesh, I’m behind with this posting stuff. I made this bread on Easter. Which turned out to be apt timing, since the recipe is indeed miraculous. The Web has been abuzz about it ever since it was written up in The New York Times in November, and now my mom’s raving about it too. The ingredients are minimal—just flour, a bizarrely tiny bit of yeast, salt, and water—and the process nontraditional, but boy howdy, does it work like a charm. Even for me, impatient nonbaker with substandard cookware that I am, it yielded beautiful, bakery-quality loaves of bread, moist and chewy within (with “a nice crumb,” as the foodies say) and crackly-crisp without. As they sat all golden and bubbly on their cooling racks, I kept staring at them in awe and disbelief. I made that!

The recipe requires a long span of time, but the actual work involved is minimal. I mixed up the ingredients on Saturday night and let the dough rest until early afternoon on Sunday, which worked perfectly: I had bread by dinnertime. Though a little twisty, the directions were essentially easy to follow, and my slight variations in technique didn’t seem to cause any problems. The original recipe calls for ¼ teaspoon instant yeast, but through Internet commentary I learned that 1/3 teaspoon regular yeast will work just as well, so that’s what I used. The original also asks you to set the dough on a well-floured cotton towel to rise, but both Internet commentary and common sense suggested to me that that’s just silly—setting wet, sticky dough on a cotton towel, no matter how well-floured, is just going to result in a messed-up towel, and is not going to be particularly convenient when your sticky dough clings to said towel as you’re trying to ease it into a 450-degree baking dish. I used plastic wrap instead, which proved really helpful as a vehicle for picking up the dough and flipping it into the dish.

My biggest concern was that I didn’t have anything approaching a 6- to 8-quart heavy covered oven-safe pot. All I had was a 2-quart Corelle baking dish with a Pyrex lid. But the magical bread didn’t let me down. I divided the dough in half at the end of Step 2, let both halves rise two hours, cooked them in succession, and voila, I got two perfect smallish loaves. You gotta try this!

3 cups all-purpose or bread flour, plus more for dusting
¼ teaspoon instant yeast or ⅓ teaspoon regular (active dry) yeast
1¼ teaspoons salt
Cornmeal or wheat bran as needed

1. In a large bowl, combine flour (measure by dipping, not spooning), yeast, and salt. Add 1⅝ cups water and stir until blended; dough will be shaggy and sticky. Cover bowl with plastic wrap. Let dough rest at least 12 hours, preferably about 18, at warm room temperature, about 70 degrees.

2. Dough is ready when its surface is dotted with bubbles. Lightly flour a work surface and place dough on it; sprinkle it with a little more flour and fold it over on itself once or twice. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let rest about 15 minutes.

3. Using just enough flour to keep dough from sticking to work surface or to your fingers, gently and quickly shape dough into a ball. Place a piece of plastic wrap at the bottom of a large bowl, dust with flour, wheat bran, or cornmeal, and put dough seam side down on plastic wrap. Dust with more flour, bran or cornmeal. Cover bowl with a cotton towel and let rise for about 2 hours. When it is ready, dough will be more than double in size and will not readily spring back when poked with a finger.

4. At least a half-hour before dough is ready, heat oven to 450 degrees. Put a 6- to 8-quart heavy covered pot (cast iron, enamel, Pyrex or ceramic) in oven as it heats. When dough is ready, carefully remove pot from oven. Holding edges of plastic wrap, lift dough out of bowl and turn over into pot, seam side up; it may look like a mess, but that’s OK. Shake pan once or twice if dough is unevenly distributed; it will straighten out as it bakes. Cover with lid and bake 20-30 minutes, then remove lid and bake another 15 to 30 minutes, until loaf is beautifully browned. Cool on a rack.

Yield: one 1½-pound loaf
Time: 21 hours (only about 1 hour actual work)

LEMON RISOTTO WITH ASPARAGUS AND PEAS

May 2008 note: This photo shows an all-asparagus, no-pea version. I had a whole bunch of fresh asparagus this time, so I used it all--probably about 2 cups.

A has always claimed, with a little shudder, that he doesn’t like risotto. While I’ve never been a voracious risotto eater (given the choice between rice and noodles, I’ll choose noodles every time), I do have a few recipes in my vault. I like the creaminess of risotto, and its versatility—like pasta, you can dress it up with every vegetable and herb and meat and flavoring under the sun. Ever since I moved in with A, I’ve been reduced to making risotto only when he leaves town. This one I found last summer in an old issue of Martha Stewart Living that had been jettisoned in the office lunchroom. It looked so springy, velvety-white flecked with green and yellow, I couldn’t resist tearing it out and making it while A was in Indiana over the Fourth of July. It was good, but ever since then it’s been back in the vault.

Now spring is springing and I’m buying asparagus at the farmers’ market every single week and eating it every which way I can, and with a craving for lemony, cheesy, asparagus risotto, I announced to A that I’d be making it for dinner whether he liked it or not. I bet him he would like it, and I was right. When we finished eating, he pushed back his plate with a bemused expression on his face and admitted, “Maybe I’ve never had risotto before. Maybe when I said I didn’t like it, I was thinking of something different.” I didn’t know whether to laugh or sock him in the arm. All this time I’ve been avoiding making risotto for no reason? Ha! Henceforth, let the floodgates of risotto recipes be opened!

Making risotto is hard for me, because it requires a lot of patience. Often I’ve followed a recipe to the letter and then bitten into underdone rice. Those recipes were probably flawed, but I should have used my powers of sensory observation while I was cooking instead of just blindly, impatiently following the directions. After much trial and error, I can finally recognize the texture of properly done risotto, and I know it always takes longer than I think it will. I like this recipe because it calls for a generous amount of broth. I think my cooking time far exceeded Martha’s oddly precise estimates (I love the part that says, “It should take about 13 minutes”), but the quantity of broth was right on, and having to wait for all 6 cups of it to be absorbed helped me slow down and give the rice the time it needed. I was a bit handicapped by the fact that I was practically cooking in the dark—the light bulb above the stove had chosen that day to burn out, and of course we had no spares on hand—but the risotto turned out perfectly, maybe the best version I’ve made.

No edits to the recipe, except that I only used ½ cup of peas. A hates them, so my neat solution was to cook the risotto without them, dish up half of it into his bowl and a storage container, and then add the peas (thawed in the microwave) to the remaining two servings for me. I probably used more than 6 asparagus spears—just however many were in the bunch I got at the market. Of course, I used homemade stock, which I strongly recommend for a recipe that draws so much of its flavor from the broth.

6 cups homemade or low-sodium store-bought chicken stock
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 cup Arborio rice
½ cup dry white wine
6 thin asparagus spears, trimmed and cut into 1-inch lengths
1 cup thawed frozen peas
1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley
½ cup finely grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
salt and freshly ground pepper

1. Bring stock to a boil in a medium saucepan; turn off heat.

2. Melt 2 tablespoons butter over medium heat in another medium saucepan. Add onion; cook, stirring constantly, until translucent, 6–7 minutes. Add rice; cook, stirring constantly, until edges of grains are translucent, 2–3 minutes. Raise heat to medium-high. Add wine; cook, stirring constantly, until wine has completely evaporated.

3. Add ½ cup stock; cook, stirring constantly, until stock has been completely absorbed and a wooden spoon drawn through rice leaves a trail in its wake. Continue adding about 4 more cups stock, ½ cup at a time, waiting for each addition to be absorbed before adding the next. (It should take about 13 minutes.)

4. Stir in the asparagus. Add ½ to 1 cup more stock, in the same manner as described above. About 1 minute before risotto is done, stir in the peas. Risotto is done when liquid looks creamy and grains are cooked but still slightly firm in the centers. (The total cooking time will be 16–20 minutes.)

5. Remove from heat; stir in ½ cup stock. (You may have stock left over.) Stir in zest, juice, remaining 2 tablespoons butter, parsley, and cheese. Season with salt and pepper, and serve with more cheese.

Serves: 4
Time: 45 minutes