Every time I mention roasting a chicken to my mother, she gives me Lecture No. 4,739 about how you “might as well buy a rotisserie chicken from the grocery, because it’s cheaper.”

It’s a philosophical difference.

She’s right that it’s (usually) cheaper and very convenient, especially if you’re already at the store, to pick up a chicken that’s table-ready. But, I like to know what’s in and on my chicken, and I like to experiment with different flavors. And, I love that crisp skin. You just can’t get that with a grocery rotisserie chicken, mainly because they rush to get the bird into a plastic container, and it steams in there.

Steam is the sworn enemy of crisp skin. Read More…

In honor of this week’s Tuesdays with Dorie recipe, Vanilla Ice Cream, Jeff and I decided to stop deliberating and actually buy an ice cream maker. I’d been making ice cream without a machine for months using David Lebovitz’s old-school method, and I was happy with the results, but they took several hours. So, we grabbed one of this particular home store’s ever-present coupons with visions of sugar cones dancing in our heads.

We were giddy.

We walked up to the display of ice cream makers, and there it was: The One. The same one we’d lusted over last year. And it was $10 MORE.

In the words of Our Lady Oprah, what I know for sure is that the Lebovitz method works. See this lovely, creamy, very vanilla ice cream? I followed Dorie’s recipe to the point where it required a machine, and then I chilled it in a bowl over an ice bath and slipped it into the freezer. After that, it was all my meaty biceps, a big wooden spoon and time. The chocolate pieces are Trader Joe’s mini peanut butter cups I stirred in at the last minute – before I could give in to the temptation of lining them up on the counter and snorting them. So, instead of instant gratification with the $50+ machine, we spent the afternoon at home, slowly tending our ice cream and wrapping up “Torchwood: Children of Earth.” It was a fair trade.

For the recipe, visit Lynn of Café Lynnylu, or pick up a copy of Dorie Greenspan’s “Baking: From My Home to Yours.”

This behemoth, double-decker Grilled Vegetable and Goat Cheese Sandwich is yet another recipe from “Emeril at the Grill,”the “trois” of the ménage a trois that is me, my grill and this book. Jeff still rules as the Undisputed King of Grilled Meats, but I can put some serious marks on an eggplant.

Since it’s too hot to grill outside during the week, we’ve been reserving Sunday evenings for firing up the grill and cooking as much as we can in advance. Especially since grilled vegetables will keep for about four days in the refrigerator. That’s four days of vegetables THAT I DON’T HAVE TO COOK that can be added to omelets, pasta, brown rice, couscous, flatbreads, tortillas, pitas, pizzas and, yes, this sandwich. A sandwich that is not unlike stuffing a garden between two pieces of bread. Or three.

It’s a looker. Read More…

Every other Saturday, Jeff and I wander through the vendors’ stands at the Nashville Farmers’ Market. Usually we have an idea of what we want – a few heirloom tomatoes, sweet corn to grill for supper, a week’s worth of fresh eggs – but there are always surprises. A particularly irresistible loaf of sourdough bread. A table full of vacuum-sealed ham hocks begging to be slow-cooked in a pot of beans or greens. Baskets of purple bell peppers. Last weekend, the market was full of women carrying that Saturday’s surprise, walking around the booths with bouquets of sunflowers resting in the crooks of their arms, like wayward pageant queens looking to christen a corn maze.

Among the squash and kettle corn and lady peas, two things started calling out to me: the perfume of ripe peaches and the sight of plump blueberries. I’d been thinking about making Ina Garten’s Peach and Blueberry Crumbles with the rest of the Barefoot Bloggers, but seeing the two together tipped me, stomach-skewering blueberry allergy be damned.

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Before yesterday, my sister didn’t know how to fry chicken. And being that she’s in her third trimester – when all things must align and get done RIGHT NOW BEFORE THE BABY COMES OR YOU WILL SUFFER THE WRATH OF THE BELLY – my grandmother, my mother, my spectacularly-pregnant sister and I gathered at Mom’s to commence the frying. The weather has been unseasonably cool, so we made it through three fryers without breaking a sweat. We also shucked, scraped and fried 24 ears of fresh sweet corn. Jennifer and I scraped and talked trash about it other’s technique; Momma tended the huge skillet full of creamy, starchy corn and butter; and Mommaw was the Official Taste-Tester.

While we worked, we talked baby names. Jenn yelled from the kitchen to Mommaw: “What if we gave her your name but spelled it with a ‘C’ instead of a ‘K.’”

“Well, you could,” Mommaw said. “But it’d be wrong.” Read More…

There are things you eat because they’re good for you and things you eat because they’re delicious. But where the twain meet – at the blessed intersection of Good for You and Delicious – you’ll find this Portobello Burger with Pesto, Provolone and Roasted Red Peppers. A grilled portobello mushroom covered in melted provolone, topped with slices of roasted red pepper and arugula (or spinach, in my case), sandwiched in a grilled bun slathered with pesto mayonnaise. Or lightly spread with pesto mayo. Or just pesto. I’m not here to judge you.

The point is, this meatless burger is meaty. And incredibly satisfying. The mushroom isn’t marinated, so it stays nice and firm, and the vegetables offer plenty of texture. Add the pesto mayonnaise to the mix, and the 10 minutes it takes to put this burger together may seem like 10 minutes too long.

P.S. If you can’t use portobellos, substitute a few thick slices of eggplant.

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Experiencing the power of the peach with Honey-Peach Ice Cream and Sweet Peach Muffins is like squinting at an eclipse through a hole in a shoebox. To taste the full, unbridled, goshamighty all-powerful flavor of the summer peach, there must be cobbler.

Sweet, buttery, bubbling peach cobbler.

I’m not big on cravings, but a few days ago, I needed chicken with rosemary and lemon with the intensity of a dozen Lindsay Lohan clones feverishly posting photos of their boobs on Twitter.

The rosemary!

The lemon!

I had all of the ingredients out … and then Jeff called to say he was working late.

Was I going to butterfly a chicken, marinate it for an hour and fire up the grill just for my own dinner? No. That’s why God created things like peanut butter and Fruity Cheerios. But then I remembered this recipe for Lemon-Rosemary Chicken Kebabs posted by Katie of goodLife {eats}™, my Adopt-A-Blogger partner.

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