I’m not a huge broccoli fan. I rarely eat it without a.) cheese, b.) dip, or c.) bacon, as The Lord intended. Otherwise, He would not have created it to taste like dirt when it’s raw and smell like terlit water as it cooks.
Can I get an Amen?
And yet, I was curious about this Broccoli Leek Soup. The Roasted Potato Leek Soup I made last fall was so good that I was game to try something similar but actually healthy. I was ready to brave the broccoli.
I love a good mushroom burger.
Remember the one I made with pesto, Provolone and roasted red peppers? That’s a classic, Italian-inspired portobello burger. When a restaurant has a portobello burger on the menu, that’s usually the one. It’s the standard.
If portobello burgers were panties, the Italian version would be white cotton.
And this Chipotle Portobello Burger would be a lace-trim mesh thong with loads of cheek peek. Read More…
When life hands you lemons, you make lemonade.
But when life hands you a 2-day-old baguette, a freshly opened bottle of Maker’s Mark and five delicious snowbound days, you make Bourbon Bread Pudding. With a warm, buttery bourbon sauce. And bourbon-soaked raisins.
It’s the sort of dessert you want to curl up around and savor while you watch the snow fall. Or read a book. Or watch “The Matrix” trilogy from start to finish in its entirety. Read More…
Some things just inspire curiosity. The Apple Tablet. Lady Gaga. Jamie Oliver’s Red Grape Pizza.
I saw this recipe on Jamie’s website and just kept coming back to it. Mini-pizzas brushed with rosemary and olive oil and topped with blistered (but still juicy) red grapes, a drizzle of honey and some bite, courtesy of a liberal amount of shaved Pecorino. The sort of fruit-and-herb combination you won’t find at Domino’s, no matter what they say about that new formula.
The flavors are complex, but the recipe is simple and ripe for variations. Add a few walnuts or pine nuts for a little crunch. Maybe some shallots to take things more savory. Replace the Pecorino with goat cheese, feta or blue cheese. You could even ditch the honey and trade the grapes for cherry tomatoes. I won’t tell Jamie.
When it comes to dips, I’m an equal opportunity glutton. Warm spinach and artichoke? Yes. Ro-Tel® Queso? Can’t pass it up. French onion? Give us some privacy.
But every once in a while, you find a dip that transcends the genre, and for me, that’s Seven Layer Dip. Black beans, sour cream (or Greek yogurt), chunky guacamole, fresh salsa, scallions, cheese and cilantro. It’s like a bean burrito in a bowl. And by that, I mean it’s like Heaven.
It’s been cold and gray for days on end here, and that has me craving vegetables. Not sensible wintry root vegetables but bold, bright, summery, grows-in-the-sun vegetables. Sunshine-get-in-mah-belleh vegetables. Red peppers and zucchini and summer squash. Vegetables that are notta so hotta right now.
Unless you roast them.
Roasting these out-of-season vegetables intensifies their flavors, bringing the best out of even the puniest squash. Just slice and cube your favorites until they fill a half baking sheet, and toss them with olive oil, garlic and seasonings. Ahhhh.
But then what do you do with all that goodness?
Hello, you magnificent example of humanity! Did you have a spectacular New Year’s? Join the Polar Bear Club? Make any resolutions?
I know, lots of people don’t “believe” in resolutions. But what if – instead of swearing to lose this and quit that and organize everything – what if we resolve to do something fun? Plan our own film festivals. Master the chopsticks. Learn how to mix a monthly cocktail (or bake a pie). Take a weekly self-portrait. Fill a piñata with strange and wonderful things, and give it to a friend. Spring for concert tickets. Plan a road trip. Check out a new restaurant once a month. Go skinny-dipping. Keep the party going until everyone gets hungry for breakfast. Make out at the drive-in. Open an Etsy shop. Surprise the kids with our own killah Nerf guns, and show no mercy. Start planning our “Jersey Shore” Halloween costumes. Figure out what to do with agave nectar.
You get the idea. You’re perfect the way you are, so resolve to do something that actually gets you excited about the big, juicy year ahead. Oh, and learn how to make risotto. It scares people, but all it requires is a little patience. Think of adding each ladleful of vegetable stock to the risotto the same way you would add juice to a toddler’s sippy-cup. Wait until the rice has almost absorbed each small amount of stock before you add more to the pot, and keep stirring. Gently. And don’t stop until your name’s on a blimp! Go, 2010!
So, did you stuff yourself silly with cheese balls, sausage balls, meatballs and bourbon balls?
Me too! Since the last time we talked, it’s been a never-ending feast around here. Next year, I think I’ll walk around all holiday season a la the Ghost of Christmas Present, wearing a red velvet Snuggie™ and a holly wreath crown trimmed with Chex Mix® and chocolate-covered cherries.
After all of that glorious excess, my pendulum is swinging back toward lighter, fresher foods, and this Lentil Salad, a pimped-out variation on Alice Waters’ original, is hitting the spot nicely. And I just learned that, in Italy and Hungary, it’s traditional to eat lentils on New Year’s Day for luck and prosperity, since the lentils are round like coins. I think I’ll have an extra spoonful. Read More…
It’s That Time of Year, and I have been in deep, deep denial. Sure, I’ve heard a few Christmas carols, but we didn’t send any cards. There’s no wreath on the door. The decorations are still nestled in the garage with care. And, ohmagah, my in-laws soon will be here.
So, I made a batch of Christmas-Morning Muffins to fortify me as I haul out the holly. No mixer required. Just combine the dry ingredients in one bowl, the liquid (including fresh clementine or orange juice) in another, and stir them together into a lovely, lumpy batter. Then, fold in a few handfuls of dried cranberries or a mix of cranberries and chocolate chips. The topping is just a sprinkle of cinnamon and sugar over each muffin. Light, cakey, and they smell like Christmas.
I’m going to enjoy every bite of one of these muffins (maybe two), do a few one-armed push-ups, and get to work transforming the Continental Crump House into a Winter Wonderland. Because it’s time. Because we need a little Christmas. And because one of our neighbors asked if we were celebrating this year. Must. Deck. Halls. Let’s go!
A few weeks ago, my friend Karen Beth asked me to find her a recipe for a creamy tomato-basil soup without any cream. Or half-and-half. Or butter. Something with the flavor but not all the fat. And, preferably meatless, so no chicken stock.
OK. So. At first, I played around with just reducing the high-fat dairy or replacing some of it a healthier alternative, like Greek yogurt. But then I stumbled onto this Creamless Creamy Tomato Soup from Cook’s Illustrated. It’s like a very bare-bones Pappa Al Pomidoro, a Tuscan tomato soup thickened with bread. You make a very basic tomato soup, add three torn slices of white bread, bring it to a boil, and then either transfer the soup to a blender (in stages) or process it in the pot with an immersion blender. The bread thickens the soup and takes some away some of the tomato bite without making the soup dull.
Once you process the soup, you can strain it back into the pot to make it even smoother (if you so desire), and then add vegetable broth and brandy (completely optional). This recipe makes quite a bit of soup, so I like to make the basic tomato and then add the herbs (usually basil or chives) to each bowl for some variety. But if you taste the soup and you’re still missing the cream, stir in a spoonful. You’ll still be getting less fat than if you added the typical amount of cream to the entire pot. Baby steps, baby steps.