SUPER LEMON ICE CREAM

Another fantastic recipe from The Perfect Scoop, which I shall be buying immediately (or as soon as I’ve maxed out my library renewals, anyway). It’s ridiculously easy to make (throw stuff in blender, blend, chill, churn in ice cream maker) and, as promised, super-lemony—so refreshing on a summer day. And, conveniently, it used up the other half of the carton of half-and-half I bought for last weekend’s chocolate-peanut butter ice cream!

This ice cream turned out much lighter, so fluffy that I got nearly double the yield of my last attempt, and the texture is less creamy, almost crumbly when scooped and more akin to sorbet in the mouth. I thought maybe I messed something up (Did I overchurn it? I was also busy making BLTs and corn at the time), but since neither my KitchenAid instruction booklet nor Lebovitz’s book mention this as a potential ice-cream-making problem, I’m chalking it up to simply the lower fat content in this particular recipe—not only is it made with half-and-half rather than eggs or cream, but it doesn’t have the extra heft peanut butter provided last time around. Regardless, it’s delicious, so I’m not worried. I’ll definitely be making this again. I’ve seen variations online using limes instead of lemons, which would be excellent to try as well. I’d also like to figure out a way to incorporate strawberries into the ice cream for a strawberry-lemonade flavor (in the meantime, though, I’ll just serve it with strawberries on top).

2–3 lemons (the original recipe calls for 3, but mine were so juicy that two sufficed), preferably organic/unsprayed
½ cup sugar
2 cups half-and-half
1 pinch salt

1. Zest 2 lemons directly into a food processor or blender. Add the sugar and process until the zest is finely ground.

2. Juice the lemons you just zested, plus another lemon if necessary, to yield ½ cup juice. Add to the blender and blend until the sugar dissolves.

3. Add half-and-half and salt and blend.

4. Chill mixture for 1 hour, then freeze in an ice cream maker according to manufacturer’s directions.

Yield: 1 quart (for us, about 8 servings)
Time: 15 minutes, plus chilling and freezing time
Leftover potential: Good.

THE RETURN OF THE CSA EXPERIMENT!

I loved our CSA experiment last time around (fall/winter 2007), especially because it was responsible for introducing me to the wonders of roasted kale, but the friend I was sharing the box with went back to school and got too busy to cook, so we didn't renew our membership. Since I have access to a great year-round farmers' market, it wasn't much of a problem for me to leave the CSA, but when my friend approached me about rejoining this spring, I jumped at the chance--not only to support a great cause and encourage myself to cook more spontaneously and adventurously, but also to sample what the farm has to offer at a different time of year.

We opted for biweekly delivered again and got our first box two weeks ago, but I was 36 hours away from leaving on a trip to Minnesota, so I couldn't take on any produce unless it was immediately edible (strawberries) or not very perishable (blood oranges, onions, and radishes), leaving my friend P with armloads of greens to eat (and she gamely rose to the challenge). What I did eat was delicious, but it wasn't a full representation, so I'm counting this week's haul as my first official one.

My half of the box contained:
2 heads lettuce (P, understandably, didn't want any this time around)
1 bunch carrots (in exchange for letting me have all of these, I very nobly allowed P the green peppers and red cabbage, two of my non-favorite vegetables)
1/2 bunch rosemary
2 onions
5 oranges (I think they're Valencias, not blood oranges, but I haven't sampled one yet)
1 pint strawberries (P got 2 pints, since I already have some at home from the farmers' market)
4 avocados! (Yes, we had an astounding 8 total; they grow on trees here, you know.) (Only 3 avocados are pictured, however, because I bartered one to Carpool J in exchange for a favor. Produce is the new currency!)

It shouldn't be too challenging to use this stuff up. The strawberries will get eaten immediately (in my lunch today, actually), and the onions, carrots, and oranges will keep as long as necessary. I can slip the rosemary into something next week. There's an awful lot of lettuce, but if I eat a few salads on the weekend, some BLTs, and maybe tacos early next week, it should take care of most of it (assuming it lasts that long). The avocados are pretty hard still and will probably keep long enough for me to put them on my BLTs, make guacamole, and perhaps whip up some avocado pasta.

CHOCOLATE-PEANUT BUTTER ICE CREAM

Did I mention that A gave me the ice cream maker attachment for the KitchenAid mixer for my birthday last month? It took me a while to clear out enough space in the freezer for it, but in the meantime I checked David Lebovitz's The Perfect Scoop (much buzzed-about by food bloggers) out of the library...then after taking one look at this awesome must-have tome, I promptly added it to my Amazon wish list, flagged about half of the pages, forced the ice cream maker bowl into a corner of my freezer, and began daydreaming about which luscious-sounding recipe I'd make first. I wanted to start off easy, without having to futz around making an egg-based custard on the stove (custard and caramel are among my top cooking fears)--and luckily, Lebovitz's book offers copious non-custard options for ice cream, as well as frozen yogurt and sorbets. Inspired by the amazing peanut-butter chocolate-chip gelato I had a couple of months ago at our local gelato place, I quickly settled on this simple chocolate-peanut butter ice cream.

Really, it could not be easier. Basically, you make cocoa the old-fashioned way, on the stove, with half and half, Dutch process cocoa powder (I used Droste, like a good little Dutch girl), sugar, and a tiny bit of salt. When it boils, you remove it from the heat and whisk in the peanut butter, chill it, and then churn it in the ice cream maker. The hardest part for me was pouring the ice cream batter into the already-stirring mixer. The second-hardest part was just worrying that I was using the ice cream maker wrong and that my ice cream wouldn't freeze. And while I may have made a chocolatey mess of the kitchen, my ice cream turned out to be...ice cream, imagine that! After 30 minutes of churning, it was definitely on the mousse/melted soft-serve end of the continuum, which concerned me a bit, although it tasted delicious regardless. But when I stuck it in the freezer and served up a scoopful the next day, it was really proper ice cream, if denser than the commercial kind. While we were eating it, I kept turning to A and saying, "I made ice cream!" Oh, and the flavor? Delicious enough that it's going to be hard to convince myself to make a different kind next time, even if I do have dozens of tempting options Post-it Noted in the book. Seriously, if you have an ice cream maker and a love for the PB&C, you must make this immediately.

2 cups half-and-half
1/4 cup unsweetened Dutch-process cocoa powder
1/2 cup sugar
pinch of salt
1/2 cup smooth peanut butter

1. Whisk together the half-and-half, cocoa powder, sugar, and salt in a large saucepan. Heat the mixture, whisking frequently, until it comes to a full, rolling boil (it will start to foam up). Remove from the heat and whisk in the peanut butter, stirring until thoroughly blended.

2. Chill mixture thoroughly, then freeze it in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions.

Yield: about 1 quart (for us, about 6 servings)
Time: 20 minutes, plus churning and freezing time
Leftover potential: medium (tastes great no matter when you eat it, but it's hard to control yourself to even have leftovers in the first place; we made it last three days, but it was a struggle)

ASPARAGUS AND MUSHROOM PIZZA

Oops. When I promised an end to the asparagus recipes yesterday, I had forgotten that I had this one waiting on deck. But I assure you, it’s worth breaking my promise for. I adapted it from a Bon Appetit tart recipe I saw at Serious Eats. The topping sounded deliciously springy with the lemon, thyme, and crème fraiche, but I didn’t really want another recipe that involves puff pastry. It’s delicious and all, but it’s also expensive, pretty high in fat, and markedly less tasty when reheated—not to mention that Trader Joe’s seems to have retired its all-butter puff pastry sheets, the only non-trans-fat puff pastry product I could find. Give me a pizza crust any day, I thought as I read the recipe. Then I realized that this would probably work pretty well as a pizza, so I decided to go ahead and give it a try. And I’m glad I did, because I really liked the result. The ingredients complemented each other beautifully, and the crème fraiche added a silky texture that, while a bit unusual for a pizza sauce, was pleasantly addictive. I almost think this would almost be too rich as a tart, with that cream and cheese atop a buttery pastry crust (not to mention that the original recipe used twice as much butter as I did for sautéing the mushrooms), smothering the poor fresh vegetables. Pizza crust provided a lighter, more neutral platform the allowed the flavors to shine.


Dough for 1 pizza (about 1 pound)
1 tablespoon butter
8 ounces cremini mushrooms, halved and then thinly sliced
½ teaspoon coarse kosher salt, divided
½ teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper, divided
½ pound thin fresh asparagus, trimmed and cut on the diagonal into 1-inch pieces
¾ teaspoon chopped fresh thyme
¾ teaspoon finely grated lemon peel
¼ cup crème fraîche
¼ cup (packed) coarsely grated Gruyere cheese (about 1 ounce)

1. Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

2. Melt butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add mushrooms; sprinkle with ¼ teaspoon coarse salt and ¼ teaspoon pepper. Sauté until tender and lightly browned, about 4 minutes. Remove from heat and let cool 5 minutes. Add asparagus, chopped thyme, lemon peel, ¼ teaspoon coarse salt, ¼ teaspoon pepper, and crème fraîche to mushrooms and mix well.

3. Roll out dough and place on a baking sheet or pizza pan. Spread mushroom-asparagus mixture evenly over dough and sprinkle Gruyere over the top.

4. Bake about 15 minutes, until crust is browned.

Serves: 4
Time: 30 minutes
Leftover potential: Good

SPAGHETTI WITH ASPARAGUS AND PINK TOMATO SAUCE

Another step in my continuing quest to collect a pasta recipe for every possible vegetable combination. Sure, I have many asparagus pasta recipes already, but this is the only one with tomatoes. This is how you end up with a pasta archive so massive you could eat a different pasta dish every week for a year.

Actually, this recipe is another oldie from Jack Bishop's Pasta e Verdura that I've been making for many years, but not often enough lately to get it onto the blog. There are certainly no surprises here, just spaghetti, steamed asparagus, tomatoes, pine nuts, basil, and Parmesan in a lightly creamy sauce. But it is extremely delicious. The prep work seems a little fussy, but once you've toasted your pine nuts, steamed your asparagus, and chopped your tomatoes, everything flies together quite quickly with a minimum of cooking.

Did you notice that this is my third new asparagus recipe in the past month? I've been on a kick, cooking asparagus once a week, sometimes twice! If you're not a fan, don't worry; the season is nearly over here in SoCal, so my mania will be subsiding soon.

1½ pounds asparagus
1½ pounds plum tomatoes
¼ cup pine nuts
3 tablespoons olive oil
4 medium cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon black pepper
¼ cup minced fresh basil leaves
3 tablespoons heavy cream
1 pound spaghetti
⅔ cup freshly grated Parmesan

1. Set a large skillet over medium heat, add the pine nuts, and toast—shaking the pan occasionally—until golden brown, about 5 minutes. Remove pine nuts from pan and set aside.

2. Snap the tough ends off the asparagus, cut spears in half lengthwise, then slice into 1-inch pieces. Steam until crisp-tender, about 2 minutes. Set aside.

3. Core and seed the tomatoes and then chop them into ½-inch chunks and set aside.

4. Bring 4 quarts salted water to a boil. Cook the pasta until al dente.

5. Meanwhile, in the same skillet you used for the pine nuts, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the garlic and sauté until lightly colored, about 2 minutes. Add the tomatoes, salt, and pepper. Cook until tomatoes are just heated through, 2–3 minutes.

6. Stir the basil and cream into the pan and cook until cream has thickened and reduced a bit, about 1 minute. Stir in the asparagus and mix well. Cook until heated through, 1–2 minutes. Taste for salt and pepper.

7. Drain the pasta and toss with the sauce, the toasted pine nuts, and the Parmesan. Mix well and serve with more cheese if desired.

Serves: 6
Time: 40 minutes
Leftover potential: High

PESTO TOMATO PIZZA

Now that you can make your own pesto (you’ve all been doing your homework from last time, right?), here’s something easy to do with it. I guess I made this one up, in that I didn’t follow a published recipe, but pizza crust + pesto + tomatoes + cheese is hardly rocket science. Throw anything else on there you like. Go ahead, see if I care.

I mainly make this in the summer when I don’t feel like sweating over the stove, or when I have leftover canned tomatoes to use up (Trader Joe’s only sells diced ones in 28-ounce cans, so this is fairly often).

Dough for one pizza (about 1 pound)
1 batch pesto (about ¾ cup)
2 sliced fresh tomatoes, or about 14 ounces diced canned tomatoes (drained)
Shredded mozzarella cheese to taste

1. Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

2. Roll out dough to fit on a baking sheet (or pizza stone, or whatever). Spread pesto evenly over dough, lay tomatoes on top, and sprinkle with cheese.

3. Bake until crust is browned.

Serves: 4
Time: 30 minutes
Leftover potential: Medium.

PESTO

I’ve already given you my directions for making pesto, but they’re embedded within another recipe. The other night, as I was putting together an easy pizza with pesto, tomatoes, and mozzarella (to use up the leftover canned tomatoes I had in the fridge), I realized that given the frequency with which I use pesto, it deserves its own post. Also, I find this photo of the bright green pesto in its little bowl very cheerful.

This recipe ain’t no fancy thing—it’s just from The Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook, my default resource for making standard foods like pancakes and eggs and chicken noodle soup. It’s simple as all get-out to whip up—just throw some stuff in a food processor or blender and puree away. But, like homemade chicken stock, it makes worlds of difference in a recipe. I’ve never tasted a pre-packaged pesto, even at Trader Joe’s, that’s even half as good. Whenever I have spare basil, I make a batch of pesto (or a half-batch, even) and throw it into the freezer for later, which makes it darn near convenience food. Serve on pasta, pizza, meat, veggies, bread, or whatever else strikes your fancy.

1 cup firmly packed fresh basil leaves
½ cup firmly packed fresh parsley sprigs, stems removed
½ cup grated Parmesan or Romano cheese
¼ cup pine nuts
1 large clove garlic, peeled and quartered
¼ teaspoon salt
freshly ground black pepper to taste
¼ cup olive oil

1. Place basil, parsley, cheese, pine nuts, garlic, salt, and pepper in the bowl of a food processor or blender. Process until the mixture forms a paste.

2. Add the olive oil and continue to process until the pesto is smooth. Taste and adjust seasonings if necessary.

Yield: about ¾ cup
Time: 15 minutes
Leftover potential: High

PENNE WITH ASPARAGUS, RICOTTA, AND BASIL

As the five-year anniversary of this blog approacheth (that’s how we used to talk in the olden days before the Internet, you know), I wonder how this is still possible: Here we have a very nice pasta recipe (from my old standby, Jack Bishop’s Pasta e Verdura) that I feel I’ve made many times, but somehow I’ve never posted it. Has it really been years since I last cooked it? Or did it just slip through the cracks?

I was reminded of this pasta while eating my recent asparagus, ricotta, and salami pizza, so I had to make it this week and finally share it with you. It’s creamy, delicately flavored, springy, and remarkably easy—no sautéing required, even: just boil, steam, and mix. There are no bold tastes here, so be sure to use a generous hand with the salt and pepper; in fact, I found myself thinking that a little lemon zest mixed into the ricotta might be the very thing to take this up to the next level. But in the meantime, I have been eating the leftovers all week and can vouch that the current level is very nice indeed.

2 pounds asparagus
1⅓ cups ricotta cheese
⅔ cup freshly grated Parmesan
½ cup minced fresh basil
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 pound penne pasta

1. Bring 4 quarts of salted water to a boil to cook the pasta.

2. Meanwhile, snap off the tough ends of the asparagus and cut the spears in half lengthwise, then slice them into 1-inch-long pieces. Steam until crisp-tender, about 2 minutes.

3. Combine the two cheeses with the basil, salt, and pepper in a medium bowl. Set aside.

4. Cook the pasta until al dente. Just before it is done, carefully remove ⅓ cup of the cooking water and stir it into the cheese mixture. The cheese sauce should be smooth and creamy.

5. Drain the pasta, making sure some water still clings to the noodles. Toss the hot pasta with the ricotta mixture and asparagus. Mix well to coat the pasta with the sauce.

Serves: 6
Time: 30 minutes
Leftover potential: High.

BANANA CAKE WITH CHOCOLATE GANACHE (A'S BIRTHDAY CAKE)

From-scratch cakes aren’t hard to make, but I only seem to do it about once per year: for A’s birthday. I’m just not much of a cake fan, particularly when there are cookies and candy around. Every now and then, however, cake really hits the spot—and this one was so good, it made me want to bake cakes all the time.

I made the banana cake, lifted from this recipe at The Smitten Kitchen, for A’s last birthday and mentioned it in passing here, but wasn’t quite satisfied enough to write a full post. That’s because I mucked up the frosting—the original recipe was a caramel-walnut-banana cake, but the Smitten Kitchen verdict was that the banana cake was the best part, and besides, A wanted chocolate banana cake. So I picked a new-to-me recipe for fudge frosting off the Web and it totally failed, leaving me no choice but to whip up an emergency batch of standard chocolate frosting from the Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook. Nothing wrong with that, but when I tasted the cake it became clear that it was crying out for a more bitter counterpoint, like a dark chocolate ganache. I spent the ensuing year secretly (and, occasionally, not-so-secretly) hoping that A would pick banana cake for his birthday again so I’d have an excuse to take another shot at this cake. And he did.

I hadn’t made ganache before, but I’d heard it was easy, and it certainly lived up to that reputation. In the comments on the cake post, Deb recommended this ganache recipe as a nice pairing for the banana cake, so I used that as a starting point. I omitted the coffee, because we are not coffee people and I didn’t have any around or want to buy any, and I increased the cream just slightly. Then, although Deb said it hadn’t worked for her with this particular ganache, I used the lazy heat-cream-and-pour-over-chocolate method (well described in this Orangette post about a very similar cake) because the words “double boiler” in a recipe are always a huge turnoff for me. I slacked even more by heating my cream up in the microwave rather than on the stove. When it looked like my chocolate wasn’t melting into the cream enough, I even popped the whole bowl of cream and chocolate into the microwave for 10 seconds. Despite all these shortcuts, the ganache came together just fine—easy to spread over the cake, just the right amount to cover, firmed up admirably to a texture somewhere between fudge and frosting (so prettily glossy I had trouble photographing it!), and tasted amazing (use the best-quality chocolate you can, of course; I used the last of my fancy Callebaut chocolate chips from last year’s birthday gift card to Surfas).

In short: I will strenuously urge myself not to wait an entire year before making this cake again. Sure, it’s a great way to celebrate a special occasion, but it’s also simple enough for everyday eating. The cake itself is a cinch to make and well worth buying cake flour and a small bottle of rum for. It would probably be just dandy on its own, dusted with powdered sugar, garnished with strawberries, dolloped with whipped cream, or maybe with chocolate chips mixed into the batter—but why not make ganache when ganache is so ridiculously easy to make?


1¾ cups cake flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
¾ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, room temperature
½ cup sugar
½ cup (packed) golden brown sugar (I used dark; no big deal)
2 large eggs
1 cup mashed very ripe bananas (2 to 3 large)
3 tablespoons sour cream
1 tablespoon dark rum
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
4 ounces semisweet chocolate chips or finely chopped chocolate
⅓ cup heavy cream

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

2. Sift flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt into a medium bowl.

3. Using an electric mixer, beat butter and both sugars in a large bowl until blended. Beat in eggs one at a time, then mashed bananas, sour cream, rum, and vanilla. Beat in dry ingredients in two additions just until combined. Spoon batter into a buttered 9-inch cake pan.

4. Bake cake until tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 40 minutes. Place pan on a cooling rack and let sit for 15 minutes. Invert cake out of pan onto rack and cool completely.

5. Place chocolate in a medium mixing bowl. Either on the stovetop or in the microwave, heat cream until it is steaming and about to boil. Pour cream over chocolate and whisk until most of the chocolate is melted; then cover and let stand for 5 minutes. Stir or whisk gently until the mixture is completely smooth. Drizzle or spread over cake and let cool.

Yield: One 9-inch cake
Time: About 2 hours (including cooling time)
Leftover potential: High. I keep leftover cake in the fridge and eat it cold, washed down with a glass of milk. A even had some for breakfast.

PASTA WITH BACON, LEEKS, AND MUSHROOMS

I have a lot of good pasta recipes. Enough, in fact, to make a different pasta recipe every week for a year. So I don’t acquire new ones lightly—they have to be pretty different from any in my archives if they’re going to make the cut. This one lured me because it has leeks. You may have noticed that I’m on a leek kick lately, and that keyword in a recipe title is enough to make me take a second look. Then, of course, there was the bacon, which would make it an instant winner with A. And I do like mushrooms, and wouldn’t necessarily have thought to put them with bacon and leeks. Most importantly, I had a few tablespoons of crème fraiche in the fridge just begging for a purpose.

Even though I like all the ingredients, I had an irrational fear that this pasta would be bland. (As if anything containing bacon has ever been bland. Ever ever. If it has, I don’t want to know about it.) I think, subconsciously, I was influenced by the pasta shell shape, not one of my favorites. I know all pasta shapes technically taste the same, but at some point in my cooking history I must have made a disappointingly bland dish involving pasta shells, and now I am prejudiced against them. Or at least, I was, until I tasted this pasta. It is simply delicious. It might be my new favorite pasta. I would like to make it again, right now. Something about the interplay between the smokiness of the bacon, the sweetness of the leeks, the earthiness of the mushrooms, and the saltiness of the cheese is just right. The crème fraiche provides a subtle, but not overwhelming, creaminess. And I actually, actively liked the texture of the pasta shells, and the perfect way they scooped up the little bits of bacon and leek. I really, really recommend this one.

I first saw this recipe at A Good Appetite, where it was scaled to serve two. It had been adapted from the original recipe by Gordon Ramsay (for whom I have an unjustifiable affection based on his TV shows, even though I don’t usually like shouty people and have never until now tasted any of his food), which was scaled to serve four and measured in grams in the European manner. So I had to do a bit of math and improvisation to create a version that would use a whole pound of pasta; as I’ve mentioned before, I have no use for recipes that use less, since I adore pasta leftovers—that is, the cooked, tasty kind waiting in the fridge to be eaten, not the uncooked half-empty box of noodles cluttering up my cabinet. I fudged the proportions a bit here and there, but was really happy with the result. This is an easy and pretty forgiving recipe. The only major change I made was not using olive oil—the original recipe calls for the bacon/pancetta to be cooked in 3 or 4 tablespoons of oil, which seems ridiculous to me, considering that most bacon (real bacon, anyway) is capable of rendering plenty of fat on its own. I just browned my bacon in an empty pan as usual, and it produced more than enough tasty, bacony grease to sauté my leeks and mushrooms in. Then, just to make sure the sauce wasn’t too dry, I added in some reserved pasta water at the end. The completed dish was the perfect consistency; I didn’t miss the extra oil whatsoever. Certainly 4 tablespoons would have made things too oily, so if you want to try the oil, I’d still recommend just 1 tablespoon or so. If you’re using fake bacon or turkey bacon or some other inferior product, maybe use 2 tablespoons oil.

1 pound medium pasta shells
Olive oil (optional)
4 ounces (about 4 thick slices) bacon, roughly chopped
3 large leeks, white and light green sections, sliced thin
8 ounces mushrooms, trimmed and sliced
Salt and pepper to taste
3 tablespoons creme fraiche
1 large handful fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped
Freshly grated Parmesan to taste

1. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil for cooking the pasta.

2. Meanwhile, add the bacon to a large skillet and cook over medium-high heat until beginning to crisp. (If you like, you can heat a few tablespoons of olive oil in the skillet before adding the bacon, but I don’t think it’s necessary unless you’re using a low-fat version of bacon.)

3. Add the leeks and mushrooms to the skillet and season with salt and pepper. Cook for 6–8 minutes, stirring occasionally.

4. When the pasta water boils, add the shells and cook until al dente. Before draining the pasta, reserve 1 cup of the pasta water. Drain the pasta and add to the skillet. Stir in the creme fraiche and some of the reserved pasta water (a few tablespoons at a time until your sauce reaches its desired consistency). Stir in parsley and serve sprinkled with Parmesan.

Serves: 6
Time: 30 minutes
Leftover potential: High. I ate it for lunch three days in a row last week. In fact, I wish I had some right now.

ARUGULA SALAD WITH STRAWBERRIES AND PECANS

I’m not a huge proponent of salad recipes, although I have a few of them. It’s probably the last holdover from my years as a picky eater. When I was picky, salads were a minefield—lots of weird ingredients all mixed up together, usually cold (ugh), usually with too much slimy, oily, sour dressing. Now that I’m a grownup, I love vegetables, am more tolerant of different flavor combinations, and frequently find salads a light and refreshing component of a meal…though I’ll admit I don’t really embrace them as an entrée. And food that’s too chilled still gives me the willies. And I think salads are almost always overdressed—if I could apply the dressing with an eyedropper, I would. But besides, that, salads and I get along just fine!

Usually, if I serve a green salad with a meal, it’s just spring mix and homemade vinaigrette (I like 1 part lemon juice to 1 part olive oil, plus salt and pepper), usually with croutons thrown in at A’s request. If I feel like adding other ingredients, like carrots or mushrooms or broccoli or cucumber, I just…add them. No recipe needed, right?

Except I wouldn’t really have thought to put strawberries and arugula and pecans together with a balsamic vinaigrette. So I’m glad I saw this recipe (originally adapted from Everyday Food) at Ezra Pound Cake, and I’m really glad I tried it. The balsamic-soaked strawberries were a great sweet-tart combination in themselves, and they only got better when paired with the peppery arugula and the earthy nuts. Not to mention the fact that the deep red and green look just beautiful together on the plate. I’ll be making this regularly throughout strawberry season—which, in California, is practically all year round.

No edits needed for this recipe. I halved it, and I used candied pecans from Trader Joe’s because that’s what I had on hand.

½ pint strawberries (about 2 cups), hulled and quartered (mine were quite large, so I sliced them)
2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar, divided
2 tablespoons olive oil
¼ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon pepper
2 bunches arugula, trimmed and thoroughly washed and dried
½ cup toasted pecan halves

1. In a large bowl, toss strawberries with 1 tablespoon of balsamic vinegar; let sit 5 to 10 minutes.

2. In a small bowl, whisk together another tablespoon of balsamic vinegar with olive oil, salt, and pepper.

3. To the strawberries, add the arugula, the vinaigrette, and the pecans. Toss to combine, and serve immediately.

Serves: 4
Time: 15 minutes
Leftover potential: Low; the dressing will make the arugula soggy

ASPARAGUS, RICOTTA, AND SALAMI PIZZA

Yum. And also, YUM. While I do like asparagus and ricotta together (I have a good recipe for penne with asparagus and ricotta that for some reason I’ve never posted), it would not have occurred to me to add salami to the mix, or even to add salami to a pizza at all—even though I love salami, and it’s hardly different from that most ubiquitous of all pizza toppings, pepperoni. (While I was making this pizza, A told me that when he traveled to Germany in high school, he was dismayed to discover that ordering a pepperoni pizza got you a pizza covered in pepperoncini, and when he finally spotted a pizza that looked like it had American-style pepperoni, it was in fact salami. So there you go.) Anyway, I’m so glad I gave this recipe from Eggs on Sunday a try, because it’s more than just a way to use up the leftover ricotta in the container while taking advantage of asparagus season. I was a bit worried it would be bland, but instead it was just delicately, elegantly, awesome. Salami—salty, peppery, and prettily pink—is the perfect complement, both visually and...er...flavorfully?, to the milky cheese and sweet, grassy asparagus.

I just eyeballed all the quantities and I think I used more asparagus (and maybe more salami and mozzarella; maybe my pizza was larger, or maybe I just like it topping-heavy?) and less ricotta than the original recipe, but I was really happy with the results. Because my ricotta supply was meager, I ended up spreading it thinly and evenly over the dough instead of dolloping it, and because it seemed easier I grated my mozzarella instead of tearing it, both of which made for a nice, moist, creamy layer underlying the asparagus and salami.


Pizza dough for 1 pizza (about 1 pound)
1 bunch asparagus, cut into 2-inch pieces, steamed briefly and then rinsed in cold water
¼ cup salami, sliced into thin ribbons
½ to ¾ cup ricotta cheese
A good handful of fresh mozzarella cheese, grated or torn into pieces (I used maybe ¼ pound?)

1. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Stretch out your pizza dough and lay it out on a pizza peel or baking sheet that’s been generously dusted with cornmeal.

2. Scatter bits of the ricotta all over the crust (or spread it evenly, if you are a neatnik). Sprinkle with the pieces of fresh mozzarella cheese, then with the pieces of steamed asparagus and ribbons of salami.

3. Bake the pizza for about 8 minutes, until the crust is golden brown and the cheese has melted.

Serves: 4
Time: 30 minutes
Leftover potential: Good

DILL FINGERLING POTATOES

As soon as I saw this Ina Garten recipe mentioned as an aside in an Amateur Gourmet post, I knew it would be the perfect thing to accompany my planned Easter feast of creamy lemon chicken and roasted asparagus; potatoes are a must for mopping up any leftover lemon sauce on the plate, and dill is such a springy flavor. As a bonus, these potatoes are prepared on the stovetop, leaving the oven free for my other dishes—and as nice as potatoes, butter, dill, and salt and pepper taste together, that method is really the star of the show here. Cooking the potatoes in a covered dish over low heat (or lowish, anyway--more on that in a second) produces all the tenderness of a steamed potato with a bit of the roastiness of a fried or baked potato, all coated with what is basically a brown-butter dill sauce. In short, it is excellent.

The reviews of this recipe were generally positive, but they were split about evenly between people who had no trouble with it and people who simply could not get their potatoes to soften over low heat. One commenter suggested that this might be a divide between people with gas stoves and those with electric ones, and my experience bears this out—I have an electric stove, and after 20 minutes over low heat in a cast-iron Dutch oven, my potatoes barely seemed cooked at all; there was hardly even any steam when I lifted the lid. But once I raised the heat to medium, everything went smoothly and the potatoes came out perfectly done. So use your discretion here, but I’d recommend medium heat unless it starts to seem like your butter is scorching. Or maybe start low and then increase if you need to?

2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1¼ pounds fingerling potatoes, rinsed but not peeled
1 teaspoon coarse kosher salt
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 ½ tablespoons chopped fresh dill

1. Melt the butter in a Dutch oven or large heavy-bottomed pot over medium heat. Add the whole potatoes, salt, and pepper, and toss well.

2. Cover the pot tightly and cook over low to medium heat for 20 to 30 minutes, until the potatoes are just tender when tested with a small knife. From time to time, shake the pot without removing the lid to prevent the bottom potatoes from burning.

3. Turn off the heat and allow the potatoes to steam for another 5 minutes. Toss with the dill, and serve hot.

Serves: 3
Time: 35 minutes
Leftover potential: Unknown. I used more like ¾ pound of potatoes, and we ate them all in one sitting. I imagine they’d make OK leftovers, though.

CHICKEN AND LEEK PIE(S)

This recipe from Jamie magazine, which I found at A Good Appetite, is basically a deconstructed version of one of my favorite Jamie Oliver creations, Pancetta-Wrapped Chicken Breasts With Leeks and Thyme—but in pie form. How could I not love it? Especially when I had an orphaned sheet of puff pastry in my freezer and some leftover cooked chicken already in the fridge?

The filling was a cinch to make and tasted delicious, like a sophisticated version of creamed chicken. The pie-making was slightly more challenging, mainly because of my own anxiety and ineptitude. Since A is not a fan of pot pies and I am sucker for anything stuffed with something else (dumplings, ravioli, empanadas, calzones, etc.), I took a cue from A Good Appetite, which mentioned that this might make a nice filling for a homemade hot pocket, and made hand pies instead. It soon became apparent that my filling was too liquidy, no matter how much I cooked it down trying to thicken it (I didn’t have nearly 14 ounces of chicken, as it turned out, and it didn't help that in my desperate attempt to cook it down meant that the chicken chunks broke down into tender strands, so that even scooping it out with a slotted spoon didn't help much), and I had way too much of it; I was barely able to pinch the edges of the dough together without filling running out everywhere, and I had so much filling left over that if I’d had more puff pastry I could have made twice as many pies if I’d wanted to. By the time I threw the baking sheet in the oven, I was swearing up a storm and convinced that I’d ruined a perfectly good filling and doomed dinner by trying to experiment with these little pies instead of just going with the pot pie. I was sure that all the filling would drain out during baking, leaving me with a burnt mess on the pan and soggy, empty pastry shells.

But not so! There was some filling leakage, but thanks to my use of a silicone mat, it didn’t make much of a mess. The pies still baked up near-perfectly, crisp and brown with plenty of tasty filling left inside. They still looked a little homely, but we both loved them—and I ate the leftover filling for lunch the next day with a spoon, which was just as tasty as the pies had been. I’ll certainly be making these savory little morsels again, and while I’ll try to improve on my first attempt by using the correct amount of chicken and maybe having more puff pastry to make more pies with, it’s comforting to know this recipe will work even if I think I’ve effed it up.


IMPORTANT UPDATE: I did a much better job making this for the second time, with some adjustments to the recipe: I had closer to the correct amount of chicken (still more like 12 than 14 ounces), cut it into bigger chunks (1/2-inch cubes, whereas before the chicken had been more shredded), and cooked it less long. It helped that I used about 1/2 cup less broth, so the filling was much less runny. Then, remembering how much leftover filling I'd had before, I went ahead and used a whole package of puff pastry--two sheets instead of one (I still had a bit of leftover filling, but more like a spoonful than a bowlful). So I got twice as many pies for my efforts. Fewer of them leaked in the oven, and the leftovers didn't get soggy--they were nice and crisp even days later. All these changes are noted below.

1 slice bacon, chopped
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves
1½ teaspoons olive oil
1½ teaspoons unsalted butter
2 large leeks, washed, trimmed, and thinly sliced (white and light green parts only)
Salt and pepper to taste
14 ounces cooked chicken, cut into chunks
1 heaping tablespoon flour
1½ to 2 cups chicken broth (use less when making hand pies)
1 tablespoon creme fraiche
1 sheet puff pastry for pot pie, or 2 for hand pies
1 egg, beaten

1. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees if making pot pie, 400 degrees if making hand pies.

2. Over medium-high heat, add the bacon and thyme to a large skillet. Add the olive oil and butter and cook for a few minutes. Add the leeks and stir for about 3 minutes to coat everything. Season with salt and pepper. Cover and reduce heat to medium-low. Let cook for 30 minutes, stirring from time to time.

3. Stir the chicken into the leeks. Add the flour and stir again. Pour in the broth and the creme fraiche. Turn the heat up and bring to a boil. Season again if needed.

4. If making a pot pie: Pour the filling into a large pie pan. On a floured surface, roll the puff pastry out until it is at least 1 inch bigger on all sides than your pie pan. Trim to fit over your pan with a 1-inch overhang. Carefully place over the top of the pie and press down the sides. Brush with the beaten egg. With a sharp knife, add a few slits in the top. Bake for 35–40 minutes until the crust is golden brown.

5. If making hand pies: Using a rolling pin, roll the puff pastry dough out to make it into a little bigger rectangle. Cut into four rectangles. Brush a little beaten egg onto two adjacent sides of each rectangle. Using a slotted spoon, place a heaping spoonful of the sauce into the middle of each rectangle. Fold over to make a triangle and press the edges together to seal (you may need to stretch the dough a little). Place on a baking sheet lined with a silicone pad or parchment. Brush each pie with beaten egg. Use a sharp knife to poke two slits in the top of each. Repeat with the other sheet of puff pastry and the rest of the filling (you may still have a little left over), for a total of 8 pies. Bake for 15 minutes. Turn the heat down to 350 degrees and bake another 10–15 minutes until golden brown. Let cool a few minutes before serving, because the filling will be really hot.

Serves: 4–6 (The pot pie will serve 4; if you make hand pies, you’ll get 8, but you'll likely eat more than one pie in a sitting—we ate 1½ apiece with a side salad at dinner.)
Time: 1½ hours
Leftover potential: Better than expected, at least for the hand pies. I don’t like reheated puff pastry because it seems to get soggy and greasy, but the leftovers I ate remained crisp and nearly as tasty as the first time around. I wouldn't say they improve with age, but they hold up.

PENNE WITH POTATOES AND ARUGULA

This is the perfect pasta dish for times of the year when not much exciting produce is in season, or (in my case) when you’ve been unable to make it to the farmers’ market and must rely upon the less-awesome offerings at the grocery store. It’s also the perfect pasta dish for bridging winter (hearty roasted potatoes, garlic, and rosemary) and spring (arugula, lemon, and no sauce to speak of). Oh, and it’s easy to make, it’s a well-balanced meal in a bowl (starch + salad, anyway), and it tastes really good, too.

The recipe is via the Smitten Kitchen, adapted from Chez Panisse Vegetables. Deb remarked that she thought it called for too much garlic (4 to 6 cloves), considering it’s not cooked very long, but I didn’t find it overwhelming; I used 4 cloves and maybe I cooked it a bit longer than the recipe called for, because the garlic didn't have that raw edge that makes it overpowering. Or maybe I just like those "unmistakeably all-American doses of garlic." If you’re worried, you can cut it back to 2 cloves, but I think a better solution would be to add it to the pan earlier, with the onions, to mellow out the flavor with a bit more cooking.

I made a few additional tweaks to the recipe: Originally, it called for ¾ pound penne, but who wants to be stuck with ¼ of a bag of pasta in the cupboard? I prefer to use the whole package and call it a day, so I just upped the amounts of potatoes and arugula to compensate. I also cut way back on the olive oil—the original recipe called for ½ cup, which seems excessive; mine turned out plenty tasty with about half that amount. To further moisten/flavor things up, I threw in some reserved pasta water and doubled the lemon juice. I would also recommend being really generous with the salt; potatoes cry out for it, and the dish risks being bland otherwise. I didn’t add quite enough the first time around and thought the pasta was nice but lackluster, but then when I sprinkled a little extra on my leftovers the next day, they perked right up and tasted awesome. For further flavor enhancement, we garnished with a little Parmesan, and A suggested adding bacon in a future experiment. OK, granted, A always suggests adding bacon to everything (did I tell you that I made him bacon chocolate-chip cookies for Valentine’s Day?), but since bacon goes quite well with arugula (see: Corn, Arugula, and Bacon Salad) and, of course, with potatoes in breakfasty goodness, it’s actually not such a crazy idea. If I try it, I’ll let you know how it turns out.

P.S. I just realized that with this recipe, arugula has scored more than enough mentions on this blog (we're up to five arugula-centric recipes) to earn its very own sidebar category! Congratulations, arugula! I guess I like you more than I thought I did.

1 to 1½ pounds firm boiling potatoes (I used small red potatoes, but Deb suggests fingerlings), sliced ⅓ inch thick
About ¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil
Coarse salt and pepper
10–12 ounces arugula, washed and drained
1 small red onion, thinly sliced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 sprig rosemary leaves, chopped
1 pound penne pasta
Juice from 1 lemon
Grated Parmesan cheese, if desired

1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. Toss the sliced potatoes with about 1 tablespoon olive oil, plus generous salt and pepper to taste. Spread them in a single layer in an ovenproof dish or on a baking sheet (for easy cleanup, line with foil or parchment) and roast in the oven until golden brown and cooked through, about 15 minutes (I flipped mine over midway through). When done, remove from the oven.

2. Meanwhile, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil for cooking the pasta. Add pasta and cook until al dente. Reserve about ½ cup pasta water, then drain.

3. While the pasta is cooking and when the potatoes are done, heat a sauté pan, add about 1 tablespoon olive oil, and sauté the sliced onion until soft and translucent and starting to brown, about 5 minutes. Add the arugula and garlic, and sauté until they just begin to wilt and soften. Lower the heat, add the potato slices and rosemary, and toss together for a minute or two. When the noodles are done, drain them and add them to the potatoes and onion. Add the lemon juice and salt and pepper to taste. Drizzle with a little olive oil and add pasta water if the sauce still seems dry. Toss well. Sprinkle with Parmesan if desired.

Serves: 6
Time: 1 hour
Leftover potential: High.

BROCCOLI SOUP WITH LEMON-CHIVE CREAM

I am in full-on spring eating mode, which means I want to eat nothing but green, lemony things all day long. So although ordinarily I wouldn’t say a broccoli soup sounds exactly irresistible, this soup, full of not just broccoli but also leeks, green onion, chive, Parmesan, and lemon, called out to me with a siren song the instant I first saw it at Orangette. Obviously the superstar here is the lemon-chive cream, which would make a delicious dip on its own (and indeed, is reminiscent of some perfected form of sour-cream-and-onion potato chips), but the soup is nothing to sneeze at later. A far cry from heavy, army-green, cabbage-smelling cream of broccoli soups you may have met before, this is a simple, light (but with those rich spikes of cream), fresh concoction that’s the perfect way to celebrate the coming of spring. Even A, who confessed he was suspicious of this soup while I was making it, gives it the thumbs up.

I’m not a huge sour cream fan, so I used crème fraiche instead. (It only came in half-cup containers, so I ended up making a half-recipe of the lemon-chive cream, and that was plenty sufficient for the four servings of soup we got.) It was mad delicious (I may have licked the container clean when no one was looking), but it did lack a little zip, being not as sour as actual sour cream, so I ended up doubling the lemon juice. Next time I may try Greek or European-style plain yogurt instead.

For the soup:
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 medium leeks, white and tender green parts only, sliced
1 small yellow onion, coarsely chopped
3 cloves garlic, coarsely chopped
1½ pounds broccoli, both crowns and stems, trimmed and coarsely chopped
5 cups chicken or vegetable stock
1 rind (about 2 inches square) from a piece of Parmesan cheese
¾ teaspoon kosher salt, or less if your broth is well salted

For the sour cream:
1 cup sour cream, crème fraiche, or plain yogurt (preferably Greek yogurt)
2 scallions, white and pale green parts only, very thinly sliced
¼ cup minced chives
1 teaspoon grated lemon zest
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
½ cup finely grated Parmesan cheese
½ teaspoon kosher salt
¼ teaspoon pressed or minced garlic

1. In a stockpot or Dutch oven, warm the butter and oil over medium heat. Add the leeks and onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until they have softened and the onion is translucent, about 10 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for one minute. Add the broccoli, stock, Parmesan rind, and salt and stir to mix. Bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer, and cook, partially covered, until the broccoli is tender, about 20 minutes.

2. While the soup cooks, prepare the cream. In a medium bowl, stir together the sour cream, scallions, chives, lemon zest, lemon juice, grated Parmesan, salt, and garlic, mixing until fully combined. Taste, and adjust as necessary. (If you are using crème fraiche, you may want to add more lemon juice; if you are using yogurt, you may want to use less lemon juice and/or add some olive oil and a pinch of sugar.)

3. To finish the soup, remove the Parmesan rind. Using a blender and working in small batches, purée until very smooth, then return the soup to the pot (or purée it in the pot with an immersion blender). Add a few dollops of the cream mixture (about ⅓ cup) and stir to incorporate. Taste for seasoning, and adjust as necessary. If needed, rewarm the soup gently over low heat. Serve the soup with a spoonful or two of the remaining cream on top.

Serves: 4–6
Time: 40 minutes
Leftover potential: Good. The freshness of this soup is one of its main selling points, so I wouldn’t keep it for days on end, but I did eat the leftovers for lunch the next day, and as usual with soup, the flavor had only improved overnight.

CHRISTMAS LIMA BEANS WITH CARAMELIZED ONIONS AND BACON

This is as sexy as lima beans will ever get.

Of the many varieties of Rancho Gordo heirloom beans I received for Christmas, the ones I was most unsure what to do with were, ironically, the big, reddish-brown-and-white-dappled, supposedly chestnut-flavored Christmas lima beans. So I was excited to find this recipe from the Rancho Gordo cookbook (which my library annoyingly doesn't have) at the Kitchn. Although it was written for Florida butter beans, it mentioned that Christmas lima beans could be used instead. Score!

I hardly need to bother saying that it was delicious. As if anything could taste bad when covered in caramelized onions and bacon! But the beans themselves had a wonderfully savory flavor (I can’t vouch for whether it was reminiscent of chestnuts or not, having never to my knowledge eaten a chestnut to begin with) that made this dish more than the sum of its parts. The only flaw was that, although I cooked them even longer than the recipe called for, they didn’t turn out quite soft enough for my taste. The one I tested before declaring them done and turning off the stove was perfectly tender, but when we began to eat I discovered that most of the others were firmer and a few were downright crunchy in the middle. I’m not sure I can blame the recipe—I was a little impatient, what with being distracted by watching the Oscars while I cooked, and these are big honkin’ beans, possibly bigger than the Florida butter beans, so maybe I needed to adjust the cooking time accordingly. Anyway, it’s an easy fix: allow plenty of time to cook them and make sure they’re fully soft, and with very little effort you’ll have one heck of an elegant-yet-comforting (and very pretty, if I do say) dish that’ll please bean-lovers and lima-phobes alike. I’m so happy that I have a stash of enough Christmas lima beans to make this three more times in the future.

½ pound Christmas lima beans
4 slices high-quality bacon, diced
2½ medium yellow onions
2 celery stalks, diced
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
Salt to taste
¾ teaspoon fresh thyme leaves
Freshly ground black pepper to taste

1. Place beans in a stockpot and cover with three inches of cold water. Soak for 4–6 hours.

2. Add more cold water if needed to cover the beans by 1 inch. Place stockpot on the stove and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low and simmer, partially covered, until beans are beginning to soften, about 1 hour.

3. In a medium, heavy skillet over medium heat, sauté the bacon until fat is rendered and bacon is beginning to brown, 8–10 minutes. Remove bacon with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towels.

4. Pour off all but 2 tablespoons of bacon fat from the pan and reserve. Chop half of an onion and add to the pan over medium heat. Add celery and garlic and sauté until soft and fragrant, about 10 minutes. Add vegetables to the beans, reduce the heat to low, cover, and simmer until beans are tender, 1 to 1½ hours. When beans are nearly soft, season them with salt.

5. After adding vegetables to beans, cut the remaining 2 onions in half, then slice them thinly. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons of bacon fat to the skillet and set over medium-low heat. Add the sliced onions and a few pinches of salt. Cook, stirring, until onions wilt. Reduce heat to low and cook, stirring occasionally, until the onions are medium brown, soft, and caramelized, 45 minutes to 1 hour. Add 2 tablespoons water and stir to loosen any browned bits on the bottom of the pan. Add the thyme and season to taste with salt and pepper. Add the bacon to the onions and heat gently.

6. When beans are fully tender, place them in serving bowls (drain off any excess liquid first) and top each serving with some of the onion-bacon mixture.

Serves: 4
Time: 2–3 hours, plus soaking time
Leftover potential: Good.

ZUCCHINI AND BRIE SOUP

This is one of my older recipes (so old, I don’t remember where I got it and can’t find it online), and apparently I don’t make it too often because I’ve never posted it here before. So when I made it last week, it was with a critical eye—obviously it’s not one of my cherished faves, so should it be eliminated from the repertoire?

Luckily, this simple-but-unique soup passed the test with flying colors. It’s exceptionally quick and easy to prepare, requiring only a few basic ingredients. It’s a lovely, cheerful pale-green color, with the delicate flavors of zucchini and Brie. And even though it’s cheesy and creamy, the overall effect is light and refreshing, the kind of soup you could enjoy year-round. Keeper!

2 cups sliced zucchini
1½ cups diced peeled potatoes
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
4 cups vegetable or chicken broth
1 cup diced Brie cheese, rind removed
salt and pepper to taste

1. In a soup pot, combine the zucchini, potatoes, onion, and broth. Bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer, and cook, stirring occasionally, about 15 minutes or until the potatoes are tender. Remove from heat, add the cheese, and stir until just melted.

2. Puree soup in batches in a blender or food processor until smooth. Return to the pot, heat through, and season with salt and pepper to taste.

Serves: 4–6
Time: 30 minutes
Leftover potential: High

ROASTED CHICKEN v.2.0

This photo doesn't begin to do justice to the majestic roasted chicken that emerged from my oven that night. But that's only because while carving the bird, I happened to lick my fingers and they tasted so delicious that all of a sudden I was hunched over the carcass stripping leftover scraps of meat off it with my hands and popping them into my mouth like some kind of animal. So this photo is inadequate because it was taken under the influence of a frenzied need to EAT THAT CHICKEN LEG ALREADY. But at least you can get a sense of the beautiful golden-brown skin on the chicken. (The potatoes look really dark, but that's because some of them were purple and red potatoes, not Yukon Golds.)

Forget my other roasted chicken recipes.

OK, maybe don’t completely forget them, but try this one first.

Usually, I don’t like to be bothered too much with methodology when I’m cooking. I just want to know the ingredients I need and how to assemble them. I like to follow directions, but I don’t like to fuss. I find America’s Test Kitchen interesting on an academic level, but I never want to make their recipes.

Some foodies loooove to bicker about the best way to do things, comparing chocolate-chip cookie recipes or potato-mashing techniques. I tend to just find a recipe I like and stick with it. I rarely spare a glance for new potato-leek soup recipes, for instance, because I already have a potato-leek soup recipe I really like. It’s just more restful for my easily-overwhelmed brain that way. And let’s face it, I like consistency and routine. Occasionally, yes, it turns out that what I like can be improved upon—I liked this mac and cheese just fine, right up until I found my super-awesome no-white-sauce 2:1-ratio-of-cheese-to-macaroni version and promptly left the old one in the dust. But I thought I was perfectly happy with my reliable, made-dozens-of-times roasted chicken with vegetables recipe. I was wrong.

The trouble all started with the post on the Zuni Café roasted chicken and bread salad at Smitten Kitchen. I’d heard plenty of praise for the Zuni chicken before—it’s downright developed a cult—but never seen photos that made it look so droolingly good, that made me hungry for it right then and there. Reading the recipe, it became clear that it would be best achieved using a cast-iron skillet or a roasting pan, which I don’t have. (I want a cast-iron skillet at some point, but I didn’t want to have to buy one before I could have roasted chicken. Typical hunger logic.) I did a quick online search for a workaround, and while I didn’t find much information about what else I could roast the Zuni chicken in, I quickly gleaned two pieces of information: (1) To hear some people tell it, the Zuni chicken-roasting method is transcendent, possibly life-changing; (2) It is likely that the high-heat cooking will make a mess of your oven, fill the kitchen with smoke, and possibly set off your fire alarm. Then there were the people who thought Zuni was overrated and professed their allegiance to some other chicken-roasting religion, like Cook’s Illustrated or the Barefoot Contessa. I was starting to feel overwhelmed. But still hungry.

Apparently just a glutton for punishment, I straight-up Googled “best roasted chicken recipe.” Just as my head was starting to spin, I happened on this post at My Husband Hates Veggies. First of all, the chicken looked delicious (and oh wow, those perfectly browned potatoes!). Second, it seemed to be a thoughtful synthesis of several popular methods (I recognized the day-long brining and careful drying from the Zuni method, and the lemon and thyme in the cavity from the Barefoot Contessa recipe). Third, it had some intriguing-looking features that included boiling the potatoes with the lemon and garlic before roasting. Feeling adventurous, I decided to give it a try on a Sunday night.

The process wasn’t hard, and since I could boil the potatoes while preheating the oven, it didn’t take any longer than my old recipe (in fact, the bird cooked for less time because the heat was higher). And the results were completely miraculous. Unless it’s sort of emergency, I will never roast a whole chicken without rubbing salt on it 24 hours beforehand, and I will never forget to dry it thoroughly. As promised by the Zuni devotees, those two easy measures ensured the crispest skin and most flavorful meat I’ve ever eaten. Meanwhile, the hot lemon and garlic infused the whole chicken with additional flavor and kept the meat, even the breast, unbelievably moist. The higher-temperature cooking made for a perfectly cooked bird (with my old recipe, even with the help of a meat thermometer, I sometimes ended up undercooking). And the trick of boiling the potatoes before roasting them was brilliant—while with my old recipe they’d sometimes get blackened on the outside before they were soft on the inside, here we had perfectly tender interiors surrounded by an addictively crisp-fried shell (like French fries! But unlike fries, they even stayed crunchy when eaten as leftovers the next day, after being reheated in the microwave). And, to mimic my favorite part of my old recipe, other vegetables could be added to the mix—I threw in some carrots and parsnips (unboiled) that I needed to use up, and while I should have cut them into bigger pieces to prevent charring, they still turned out tasty.

This really is the perfect roasted chicken. It’s my go-to recipe for now on, and even if in the future I decide to return to my other recipes for the different flavors (smoked paprika, honey) they can offer, I will always follow some of the basic steps of this one (SALTING and DRYING, people). I may have finally learned the value of methodology.

1 whole 3-pound chicken (the best quality you can find, preferably organic and free-range)
1 large lemon
10 garlic cloves, unpeeled
2 sprigs of fresh thyme
Plenty of coarse kosher salt and fresh-ground pepper
Olive oil
1½ pounds small Yukon Gold potatoes

1. Prep your chicken about 24 hours ahead of time by patting it down with paper towels and covering it liberally with kosher salt. Really massage it into the skin, and inside the cavity as well. (Be sure to remove giblets or any neck pieces from the cavity first!) Place in a baking dish (not the one you’re going to use to roast the bird) in the refrigerator and cover with tin foil or plastic wrap.

2. When ready to roast, preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Slice the potatoes in half, or in quarters if they are larger. Add them to a large pot and cover with cold water. Add the lemon and the garlic cloves, and cook over high heat until water boils. When it does boil, add salt to the water.

3. Remove chicken from refrigerator and wipe it off with paper towels until it is as dry as possible. Place in a roasting pan (I use a roasting rack on a heavy baking sheet).

4. Once the potatoes are tender, drain everything. Add the potatoes back to the hot pot you cooked them in to dry off. Take the lemon (use tongs and be careful; it’s hot!) and pierce it 8–10 times with the tip of a sharp knife. Stuff the lemon inside the chicken cavity, along with the hot garlic cloves and the thyme. Drizzle the bird with olive oil and rub it all over, then rub kosher salt and freshly ground pepper all over it. Place the bird breast side up to cook, and tuck the wings underneath.

5. Place the roasting pan in the oven and cook for 30 minutes.

6. Remove the pan and lower the oven temperature to 375 degrees. Give the cooled potatoes a quick stir in their pot, then add them to the roasting pan. Stir them around in the hot fat and juices that have accumulated, so none are dry. Position the potatoes cut side down. Return the tray to the oven and cook for another 45 minutes.

7. Chicken is done when juices run clear and a meat thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the thigh reads 180 degrees. Remove pan from oven and let stand 10 minutes. Remove the potatoes to a serving dish and sprinkle with coarse salt. Remove everything from the chicken cavity (carefully, again!)—you can discard the lemon and thyme, but it’s great to serve the garlic with the potatoes. Carve the chicken and serve.

Serves: 4–5
Time: 2 hours, plus 24 hours of brining
Leftover potential: Insanely high. Aside from being eaten plain the next day (with the magically still-crisp leftover potatoes), leftover chicken can be used for sandwiches, salads, soups, pizza, or anything else you like (you can freeze it for months). And once you’ve stripped off all the meat, don’t forget to use the carcass to make chicken stock. Delicious and thrifty!

CRISPY SALTED OATMEAL WHITE CHOCOLATE COOKIES

Two Saturdays ago, A and I were feeling under the weather and had canceled our afternoon plans in favor of lying limply around the house. But first, I managed to drag myself to the kitchen and bake these easy cookies, and they made us supremely happy. I don’t care for white chocolate, and I usually prefer my oatmeal cookies on the soft side, but there’s something irresistible about these. The recipe is from the Smitten Kitchen, where Deb sums it up perfectly: “They’re crispy, but not because they’re hard or because they’re thin but because they practically hollow out when they bake, leaving you with this… shell of an oatmeal cookie with rich bits of white chocolate scattered about and the tiniest flaking of sea salt on top.” And oh, that salt is so so good, providing an excellent counterbalance to the sweetness of the white chocolate, as well as an excellent opportunity for me to use the fleur de sel I got for Christmas (thank you!). I won’t be throwing dark chocolate over for white chocolate anytime soon, but these cookies are well worth trying and are a unique addition to my repertoire.

I’m sure hand-chopped chunks of great-quality white chocolate would rock these cookies even harder, but I’ll admit I took the shortcut and used Trader Joe’s white chocolate chips. They contain cocoa butter, so they’re “real” white chocolate, and they taste good to me.

1 cup all-purpose flour
¾ teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon table salt
14 tablespoons (1¾ sticks) unsalted butter, slightly softened
1 cup sugar
¼ cup packed light brown sugar
1 large egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2½ cups old-fashioned rolled oats
6 ounces good-quality white chocolate bar, chopped (or non-artificial white chocolate chips)
½ teaspoon flaky sea salt (like Maldon or fleur de sel) for sprinkling on top

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Line your baking sheets with parchment paper or Silpat. Whisk the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and table salt in a medium bowl.

2. Beat the butter and sugars until light and fluffy. Scrape down the bowl with a rubber spatula, then add the egg and vanilla and beat until incorporated. Scrape down the bowl again. Add the flour mixture gradually and mix until just incorporated and smooth. Gradually add the oats and white chocolate and mix until well incorporated.

3. Divide the dough into 24 equal portions, each about 2 tablespoons. Roll between your palms into balls, then place on lined baking sheets about 2½ inches apart. Using fingertips, gently press down each ball to about a ¾-inch thickness.

4. Sprinkle a few flakes of sea salt on each cookie.

5. Bake until cookies are deep golden brown, about 13 to 16 minutes, rotating baking sheet halfway through. Transfer to wire rack to cool.

Yield: 2 dozen
Time: 45 minutes