Possibility - English Pea & Pecorino Crostini with Mint

I am a planner at heart: A menu, a road trip, an evening out. When you need someone to book a reservation a month ahead of time, I am your girl. I live for that kind of thing. A hard-to-book table, the most affordable airline ticket, a unique date, an out-of-the-way beer garden in the next county or the best sandwich on Interstate 5. When it comes to planning, I am up to the task.

If only I were so confident when it comes to mapping out my life.

But I suppose that's the point of it all. I mean where's the fun in knowing everything that comes next? I'd love to meet the person who's life has gone according to plan. To be honest, it sounds fairly boring. Although I guess it would remove the sometimes anxiety-inducing uncertainty...which I admit, does sometimes sound appealing...

Uncertainty is just possibility in disguise. Isn't that what they say? I'm trying to keep that in mind as I get ready to spring into a week that has the potential to bring great change, or not. When I think about uncertainty, it tends to bring up negative connotations. But the same isn't true for possibility. Possibility, in my mind, is about the future, about looking forward to great success and happy events.

And I'll try to remember; if it's not this week that brings great change, it may be the next. Anything is possible. You just never know. Those are my positive thoughts for the day. Let's see if I can keep 'em going.

This week has already brought a ton of great scores from the Temescal Farmer's Market. I have a ton of things up my sleeve and a kitchen counter full of asparagus, fava beans, radishes and strawberries.

Also, one of my favorites, english peas.

I've got a Tarragon Chicken roasting in the oven, and I've invited Amber over for dinner, with clear instructions to bring the wine. While the chicken rests, these English Pea & Pecorino Crostini with Mint will be just the thing.

And then we'll toast to all the future possibilities.






English Pea & Pecorino Crostini with Mint
adapted from Molly Watson

2 lbs english peas, shelled
3 tbsp good quality extra-virgin olive oil
1 large clove garlic
1 fresh baguette, sliced on the diagonal
Pecorino for shredding
salt & freshly ground black pepper
mint for garnish
1 tsp fresh lemon juice

Bring a saucepan of water to boil and add the shelled peas. Boil for about 1 minute until slightly tender. Drain and rinse with cold water to cool the peas. Dry as best you can, and set them in a bowl. Mash peas with a fork with a touch of salt, the lemon juice and 2 tbsp of the olive oil.

Toast the bread and rub with the garlic. Discard the clove. Spread the pea-mash generously over each toast. Sprinkle with pecorino, mint and black pepper and drizzle the remaining tbsp of olive oil over the toasts. Add more salt to taste and serve.

Death by Caramel - Salted Caramel Tart

I nearly killed myself with caramel.

Perhaps that's a bit dramatic, but I need you to understand the severity of the situation. Caramel is not easy. It is treacherous. It took three attempts to get this tart right. THREE! By the end of it, I was so sick of looking at and smelling caramel, I was barely tempted to taste it. I was tired, no, exhausted, and so very. very. done with caramel. Was it worth it? Well. It's tough to say. I'm still having arm spasms from stirring.

Again with the dramatics.

My niece and I had discussed my Sister's love of caramel. I thought this tart would be just the thing for her birthday, served with a fluffy cloud of only slightly sweetened, fresh whipped cream.

So there I was at the stove, stirring away. About 10 minutes into the first batch, I noticed the caramel was turning an unexpected and disturbing shade of grey. I leaned in to examine it closer and removed the spoon: the spoon had half dissolved into the caramel mixture! I had thought it was silicon, but in actuality, it was plastic. Batch discarded.

I prepped the caramel once more. Wooden spoon in hand, stirring and stirring, watching carefully so as not to burn it. The recipe instructions said to bring the caramel to a distinctly dark color. I admit, I was skeptical: the picture looked so dark. I could have sworn the caramel shown was burnt, but, "have courage!" the recipe instructed. And so I did. I brought it to a dark color...and tasted it.

Burnt. Completely.

Batch discarded.

And so, onto the third batch, about an hour in at this point. Recipe for caramel committed to memory. Screw courage: at this point, I just wanted caramel that was neither burnt nor toxic.

And it worked. The third batch was perfect.

I'm told that the tart was good. Rich and buttery, as caramel should be. I had a bite. But the process had the unintended consequence of making me decidedly anti-caramel. But at the end of it, the tart had been completely devoured. And I guess, that's about as much of a recommendation as I can give for this recipe.

In the future, I will trust my own instincts when it comes to a recipe, and I will stick with silicon or wood when cooking candy.

So, if attempting this one, heed my warnings. Screw courage, trust your taste, and if all else fails, remember, caramel is tricky. It's not your fault.

Salted Caramel Tart
from the cookbook FAT by Jennifer McLagan

For the tart dough:

2 cups all-purpose flour
pinch of fine sea salt
2/3 cup cold unsalted butter, diced
1 large egg
1/3 cup superfine sugar

For the caramel:

1 1/4 cups superfine sugar
1/2 cup salted butter, diced
1 cup whipping cream
lightly whipped cream, for serving

Combine the flour and salt in a food processor and pulse to mix. Add the butter and pulse until the mixture resembles very coarse bread crumbs. Transfer the mixture to a large bowl.

In another bowl, whisk together the egg and sugar. Pour the egg mixture over the flour-butter mixture and mix with a fork. Squeeze a bit of the mixture between your fingers. If it holds together, transfer the dough to a lightly floured surface; if not, add a couple of teaspoons of ice water and test again. Knead gently and form into a ball, divide the pastry in half, and flatten into 2 disks. Wrap each disk in plastic and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes before using.

Roll out the pastry on a floured surface and line a 9-inch or 9 1/2-inch (23-cm or 24-cm) tart pan. Prick the base of the tart with a fork and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 375. Place the tart shell on a baking sheet. Line the tart with parchment paper and fill it with dried beans. Bake until the pastry is just set, about 15 minutes. Remove the paper and beans and continue to cook until the pastry is a dark golden color, 10 to 15 minutes. Transfer the tart to a wire rack and leave to cool completely.

Combine the sugar and butter in a deep, heavy saucepan over medium heat. Stir to mix and cook, stirring occasionally, until the butter and sugar caramelize, 10 to 15 minutes. The sugar and butter will go through several stages. First it will look like a flour-butter roux, then it will appear curdled, and then the butter will leak out of the sugar mixture. Don’t worry: It will all come together in the end.

While the caramel is cooking, pour the cream into a saucepan and bring it to a boil over medium heat. Remove from the heat and set aside.

Keep stirring the butter-sugar mixture, watching carefully as it begins to caramelize and remembering that the heat in the pan will continue to cook the caramel once it is removed from the burner. You want a rich, dark caramel color, but you don’t want to burn the mixture, which will give it a bitter taste. When the caramel reaches the right color, remove the pan from the heat and slowly and carefully pour in the cream; the mixture will bubble and spit. When the caramel stops bubbling, return it to low heat and cook for 5 minutes, stirring to dissolve the caramel in the cream. Remove the pan from the heat and let the caramel cool for 10 minutes. Slowly pour the cooled caramel into the baked pastry shell and chill the tart for at least 2 hours.

This tart is easier to cut when it is chilled. Remove the tart from the pan and, using a wet knife, cut it into wedges. Serve the tart at room temperature, however, for maximum flavor, with a dollop of whipped cream.

Of Hot Tubs and Road Trips - Simple Lentil Salad

I've been in a bit of a cooking funk lately. I can't seem to get myself to the market very often, and when I do, I come home missing an ingredient or two, and then can't force myself out again to retrieve them. Meals have mostly been eaten out or foisted upon me by friends with leftovers to spare. I have to admit, I'm actually enjoying the break. More time for other things, such as a hot tub and sauna night at Piedmont Springs in Oakland. Delightful! Living in an apartment building has it's disadvantages. Lack of hot tub is one of them, so it's very refreshing to know that tucked away on Piedmont Avenue, there is a small oasis of outdoor, private redwood tubs which can be yours for one hour, for about the price of two cocktails.

It's a bargain. Add a few minutes in the sauna, and I'm a happy camper. Maybe someday I'll spring for the massage as well.

But I have a confession. I have been spoiled when it comes to hot tubs. In college, my roommate Beth and I lucked out with a ridiculously perfect house, 4 blocks from school, complete with wrap-around deck and hot tub. In case you were wondering: studying for finals is not too strenuous when up to your neck in 103 degree water. It is also rather easy for the party to come to you, when you are the gate-keeper of a hot tub. Party attendance was always more than we expected, but our hot tub space was always reserved.

After college, when I moved in with my friend Ilsa, I lucked out once again, with a large redwood hot tub in our yard in Berkeley. I wish I could say I'd enjoyed that tub more, but our hot tub fun was cut short when we found a family of opossums living under said tub. Let me tell you, those things are mean as hell. They hiss! Sitting up to your neck in 103 degree water is considerably less relaxing when being circled by hissing opossums.

Luckily, there are no rodents of unusual size (or regular size for that matter) at Piedmont Springs. Nor are there gangs of rowdy college kids. Just pure, private relaxation in the middle of the city. Happiness. Sheer happiness.

So now, to extend my relaxed, meditative state, I'm off on a road trip up North for my Sister's 40th birthday. We'll see if this cooking funk continues. I'm happy to trade my tiny kitchen for the open road, a Superbird Sandwich from Grenzellas on I5, all of my favorite restaurants in Ashland, Oregon, and, what is sure to be some superb family cooking. Cooking for 14 people is always a bit of a challenge. I suspect we'll be combining forces.

Until I'm back, I leave you with a single, simple recipe. For an evening when cooking needs to be minimal, without fuss. There's nothing more satisfying than a simple lentil salad. And Alice Waters has the best simple recipe I know. A few tweaks here and there to make it your own, you can throw in just about anything you have on hand. It's hard to ruin lentil salad, and the red wine vinaigrette is so perfect on this. It's what to cook when you don't want to cook.





Lentil Salad
adapted from Alice Waters, The Art of Simple Food

1 cup lentils, sorted and rinsed (Alice recommends French Green or Black Beluga, I had brown lentils on hand and they worked just fine.)
1/2 cup carrot, diced
1/2 cup potatoes, diced
1/2 lb spinach
1 tbsp red wine vinegar
salt & fresh-ground black pepper
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 finely diced shallots
3 tablespoons chopped parsley

Bring the lentils to boil in about 3 inches of boiling water. Simmer and cook until tender, it should take about 30 minutes. Drain, and reserve about 1/4 cup of the cooking liquid. Set liquid and lentils aside.

Heat about 1 tbsp of olive oil in a pan, and saute the shallots, carrots, and potatoes until tender. Add the spinach to wilt. Stir in the parsley and remove from heat.

Toss the lentils and vegetables together with red wine vinegar, salt & pepper and the 2 remaining tablespoons of olive oil. If the lentils seem dry, add a bit of the cooking liquid. Serve room temperature or cold.

Guest Post by Pearl

My six year old niece, Pearl, has asked that her photo of her dinner be included on the blog. I am more than happy to oblige her. I happen to know that she is an excellent cook: masterfully arranging chocolate chips in cookies, raspberries in raspberry tarts, eating chocolate and licking spatulas clean.

I can tell you that her favorite meal is salmon sushi. She prefers it without rice. She also very much enjoyed the Pina Colada's (virgin) I made in Hawaii, but she prefers them without too much fresh pineapple, because the pineapple makes her tongue swell up.

So here is dinner by Pearl. Sweet potatoes, and chicken on peas. Very healthy and well-balanced, I must say.

It is obvious she has an eye for this thing.




Well done, Pearlyque!

The Old Familiar - Tacubaya Salad with Lemon-Lime Vinaigrette

About once every year, I pull out my old, tattered copy of East of Eden, my favorite book of all time. I re-read and re-visit the paragraphs and characters I love so well. I never really plan on reading it again, but once the urge strikes, I have to indulge. And so far, every year, it happens like clockwork.

I like to re-read books. I do the same thing with The Great Gatsby, and a few others. It might sound cliched, but it seems every time I pick one of these books up again, I find something I missed the last time around. Something new. I think about a passage differently than I used to. And I never, ever tire of reading the last line of Gatsby, possibly the greatest ending to a book ever:

"Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter -- to-morrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther....And one fine morning --- So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

That ending always thrills me.

I take no issue with the familiar, the well-trodden path. My friend Lesley tends to disagree with me on this. She thinks she'll miss out on something new if she sticks with what she's done before. Whether it's a book, an ice cream flavor...I see her point. But I still prefer chocolate ice cream nearly every time. I take comfort in the familiar, and in habit.

So it is with this salad. The Tacubaya Salad. Tacubaya is a Mexican restaurant on 4th Street in Berkeley. It's a favorite lunch spot of mine, not too far from where I worked when I first moved the the Bay Area. Once I discovered this salad on their menu, I committed. My order at Tacubaya is always, always: one chicken taco and the Primavera Salad. Which I have re-named, the Tacubaya Salad.

This salad is everything I want a salad to be. Bright, crunchy, filling, and tangy. There's a lot of texture going on here. Carrots, cucumber, radish, avocado, pumpkin seeds, baby lettuce and cabbage, all tossed in a lemon-lime vinaigrette. It's very possible that I could live off of this salad for quite some time, and be completely content.

I always feel a bit silly posting a salad recipe. I mean, it's a salad. You can probably see from the picture what the proportions are like, and to be honest, I don't measure for it. I throw it all together in the proportions I need. It's about an equal proportion of everything from the pumpkin seeds to the carrots to the cabbage to the lettuce. And the dressing really couldn't be easier. So, think of this as less of a recipe, and more as a few guidelines for this salad of salads.





Tacubaya Salad with Lemon-Lime Vinaigrette
adapted from Tacubaya Restaurant in Berkeley

1 bag mixed baby lettuce
1 bunch radishes, thinly sliced
2-3 carrots, shaved into strips
1 cucumber, thinly sliced
1 cup or more green cabbage, thinly sliced
1 cup or more red cabbage, thinly sliced
1 avocado, cubed
1 cup pepitas or pumpkin seeds, toasted (I usually get the raw ones from Trader Joe's)

for the Vinaigrette:
Juice of 1 lemon
Juice of 1 lime
1 tbsp or more of sugar
1/4 tsp salt
olive oil (you need enough for that magic 3 - 1 ratio of oil to acid)

Mix ingredients to taste. It should be sweet, sour, and salty, all at the same time.

Toss everything together and serve.

In the Pouring Rain - Roasted Salmon with Rhubarb & Red Cabbage

I braved high winds and pouring rain last Sunday afternoon to meet Brian for beer and lunch at the Monk's Kettle in San Francisco. Driving across the Bay Bridge, it occurred to me that I hadn't actually been over to the city since...well, mid-February. And it is now April. A very sorry state of affairs. The East Bay does its best (restaurant, food-wise and friend-wise) to make the trip unnecessary, but there's really no excuse for living so close to San Francisco, and yet making it over there so rarely. I couldn't help but feel slightly sheepish that it had been so long. And I have to admit, I'd missed the Mission in all it's grimy hipster-ness. Even in the driving rain, the mustaches, shaggy haircuts, fixie bikes and unnecessary eye ware were out in full force.

I love the Mission, but it always makes me feel as though I'm in some foreign country on a limited visa. I'mnot meant to stay, but just to visit, and staring in fascination at its inhabitants and culture.

I'm glad they let me visit. Elixir is still the only bar I've found in the Bay Area that serves my beloved Deschutes Green Lake beer, and it turns out they also have a make-your-own-Bloody-Mary-bar on Sundays. I think that's worth crossing a bridge for, as I've been on a serious hunt for the best Bay Area Bloody Mary for awhile now. Thus far, Zeitgeist has been the clear leader, but that may just be the sun, picnic tables, Tamale Lady and cheeseburgers talking...

Though we've been experiencing bouts of torrential rain for the last several months now, Bay Area residents still seem woefully unprepared for the weather. Umbrellas seem a rarity, the streets constantly flood, traffic comes to a standstill, and we run, diving under awnings and into shops, dripping wet from trying (unsuccessfully) to dodge the raindrops. I do have an umbrella but I must admit, it's more than slightly broken, and I think I must be a somewhat pathetic sight, running around with what is basically, only half of a working umbrella.

The best thing about torrential rain, is that it makes it easy to stay inside and cook. A horrible rainy day is actually a pleasant day to have the oven on.

I'd been eyeing this unexpected, and rather strange recipe in Bon Appetit: Roasted Salmon with Rhubarb and Red Cabbage. My on-going love affair with rhubarb makes it difficult to ignore any recipe in which it is featured. I'd been wanting to try it in something savory, and the pairing with salmon seemed like a good option. I was really happy with how it turned out too, as the sweet and sour tastes of rhubarb were a great compliment to rich and buttery fish.

I did, however, have a problem with the cabbage. My adaptation ignores the caraway seeds and most of the coriander: the original recipe called for several tablespoons of each, which I found overpowering and unnecessary. Next time I make this, I may omit the cabbage altogether and just top the fish with the rhubarb and orange.




Roasted Salmon with Rhubarb & Red Cabbage
adapted from Bon Appetit

2 tsp black or yellow mustard seeds
3/4 cup fresh orange juice
1/2 cup sugar
4 tbsp water
1 tbsp finely grated orange peel
1 tsp coriander seeds
1 tsp minced peeled fresh ginger
2 cups 2-inch-long 1/4-inch-thick matchstick-size strips rhubarb
4 cups thinly sliced red cabbage
1/4 cup Sherry wine vinegar
1/4 cup dry red wine
2 6- to 7-ounce salmon fillets with skin 1 tbsp olive oil or grapeseed oil

Stir mustard seeds in small dry skillet over medium heat until beginning to pop, about 3 minutes. Transfer to small bowl; reserve.

Bring orange juice, sugar, water, and orange peel to boil in large skillet, stirring until sugar dissolves. Reduce heat to medium; add mustard seeds, coriander seeds, and ginger. Simmer until syrupy, 8 minutes. Add rhubarb; reduce heat to medium-low. Cover and simmer until rhubarb is tender but intact, 2 minutes. Using slotted spoon, transfer rhubarb to microwave-safe bowl; reserve.

Bring syrup in skillet to simmer. Add cabbage, vinegar, and wine; bring to boil. Reduce heat to medium, partially cover, and simmer until cabbage is soft and most of liquid is absorbed, stirring frequently, about 45 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Remove from heat.

Meanwhile, preheat oven to 425°F. Line rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper or foil. Place salmon, skin side down, on prepared baking sheet. Brush salmon with olive oil; sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast until salmon is just opaque in center, about 11 minutes. Rewarm reserved rhubarb in microwave just until warm. Divide warm cabbage among serving plates. Place 1 salmon fillet atop cabbage. Top with rhubarb.

Michael Bauer's 2010 List of the 100 Best Bay Area Restaurants

The SF Chronicle's 2010 list of the Best Bay Area Restaurants was released this morning! If you are planning a trip to the Bay Area, or just looking for a great place to dine, this is an excellent resource. Currently, my only disagreement, is that Commis in Oakland was left off of the list. Commis has a Michelin Star, and the food speaks for itself. It's certainly of a higher quality than many of the places on the top 100 list. Of the others that I've tried, here are some of my personal favorites, or the ones I usually list when someone poses my favorite question, "Where should we eat?"

Cyrus in Healdsburg - The most memorable and enjoyable dinning experience I've ever had. A special occasion type place if there ever was one.

Pizzaiolo in Oakland - My favorite/go-to restaurant in the Bay Area. It beats almost every pizza place I've tried in San Francisco, including Beretta. I've never had a dish that missed here. It's just the best. The chef recently opened up Boot and Shoe Service in the Grand Lake neighborhood of Oakland. It's basically just a paired down menu of Pizzaiolo's offerings. Also great.

Adesso in Oakland - The salumi selection is mind blowing, they put out a free spread of several of their dishes twice every evening (around happy hour time, and then again late at night). The wine list is excellent and the cocktails are even better.

Bouchon in Napa - A Thomas Keller restaurant, need I say more?

Dopo in Oakland - Another Italian place in Oakland, but this happens to be the restaurant that really turned me on to Bay Area restaurants when I moved in 2004. It's a neighborhood place that's benefited from word of mouth, and yet, it still strives to be a neighborhood place. They've expanded recently, but have kept their integrity and intimate feel.

Flora in Oakland - California/New American cuisine in Downtown Oakland. This place is not to be missed. Best cocktail list I've ever seen, excellent service, great food and one of my favorite dining atmospheres.

Flour + Water in SF - Italian again. Are you sensing a pattern? I admit, I'm biased, I love my Italian places. Get here early and you'll be rewarded. One of the best meals I've had in the past few years. It's an absolute gem.

Foreign Cinema in SF - As the name implies, this place can best be described as cinematic. You'd think it was just a gimmick, but the food erases any trace of that notion. A stunningly romantic restaurant.

Nopa in SF - California/New American cuisine. If you can stand the wait and finally score a seat, you're in for a good meal. One of my San Francisco favorites. The owners are also responsible for Nopalito, just a few blocks away. Terrific Mexican food in SF.

Vik's Chaat Corner in Berkeley - A Berkeley secret that's not so secret. It's a favorite of just about everyone around here. Indian street food done right at a great price. I'd say it's the best we have to offer of ethnic cuisine around here.

Bistro Don Giovanni in Napa - My parents introduced me to this place, and I've been many times over the years. It's just such an enjoyable place to eat, especially after a hard day of wine tasting.

Rutherford Grill in Rutherford - If I don't go to Bistro Don Giovanni in Napa, it's because I'm here. Such a fun place to spend part of your day in the Napa Valley. You can't go wrong with anything on the menu, and their wine list is truly great. A wonderful place to bring friends for a more casual, outdoor meal.

So there you have it. My 2 cents.

Check out the full list of the Top 100 Restaurants in the Bay Area, here.

Everyday - Everyday Cake with Strawberry Rhubarb Compote

The days slipped away from me, and I failed to notice that this blog just had its one-year anniversary on March 25th! That baffles me. I can't believe how quickly this year has flown by. So, thank you for reading, and even better if you tried something off of here that you liked!

I've been noticing lately how time seems to speed by faster than ever. As a kid, the minutes, hours, and days tended to drag on forever; the clock painfully ticking down the endless seconds till recess, till the weekend, till summer. Now, it seems I simply blink and an entire month has gone by. What I wouldn't give for a Saved by the Bell style "time out!"

I keep thinking about the play Our Town, by Thorton Wilder. For those of you who aren't familiar, the play consists of three acts: the first centers around the day-to-day lives of the community of Grover's Corners, highlighting two families who have a son George, and a daughter, Emily.

In the second act, George and Emily fall in love, and eventually get married. In the final act, Emily has died in childbirth, but revisits the town of Grover's Corners as a ghost. She is allowed to relive one day of her past. She chooses her 12th birthday, though other ghosts caution her not to go, as it will be too painful. When they cannot convince her, they advise her to, at the very least, chose an unimportant day to visit, "for the least important day will be important enough."

As Emily watches, unnoticed and unseen by her living family members, her Mother prepares breakfast, her Father reads the paper at the table, and the sights and sounds of what used to be everyday occurrences rush by her. Emily becomes more and more distraught and overwhelmed by all she took for granted. The pain quickly becomes too much and she says, "I can't go on. It goes so fast...I didn't realize. So all that was going on and we never noticed."

When Emily returns to her grave, she asks the narrator of the play if anyone ever realizes life while they live it--life as it is, "every, every minute."

"No," the Narrator says, "Saints and poets maybe--they do some."

I've read this play so many times over the years. I've seen several productions, but it wasn't until two years ago at the 2008 Oregon Shakespeare Festival production, that I finally started to understand. I found myself sitting in the outdoor theatre on a warm night, under the stars, with tears streaming down my face. I could hardly stand to see anymore. It was all so bittersweet, so uncontrollable, and much, much too fast.

It feels like the older you get, the more true it becomes. Time speeds up and slips away before you know it, and it's a struggle to simply live in the moment and appreciate everything for what it is.

Everyday Cake with Strawberry-Rhubarb Compote

adapted from the Busy Day Cake recipe by Edna Lewis
compote adapted from Smitten Kitchen

This cake's official title is the "Busy Day Cake." It's nothing fancy, it comes together in about half-an-hour: an everyday type of thing. I called it the "Everyday Cake" when I couldn't remember the official name, and for me, it has stuck. I couldn't be happier that rhubarb is back in season. This combination is very much like a Strawberry Rhubarb Shortcake. Is there anything better than the smell of baked rhubarb? If so, it's hard to imagine.

For the Compote
1 lb rhubarb, cut into 1 inch pieces
1 lb strawberries, hulled and rinsed
1 tsp lemon zest
1 tsp lemon juice
2/3 cups sugar




Cut up the rhubarb and strawberries. Reserve about half of the cut strawberries and set aside. Put the remaining strawberries and cut rhubarb into a medium-sized saucepan over medium-high heat with the lemon juice, zest and sugar.

Let the mixture bubble and simmer for about five minutes. The juices will extract quickly. Stir from time to time to help everything breakdown. The rhubarb will fall apart and the whole thing becomes a beautiful fuchsia color. As soon as the rhubarb has broken down and become soft, remove from the heat, add the reserved strawberries and set in a bowl to cool to room temperature. Once the mixture has cooled, place in the refrigerator. It will keep for a couple weeks, covered. Makes about 3-4 cups.




For the Cake

1/2 cup (1 stick) of butter, room temperature

1 1/3 cups sugar

3 eggs

2 tsp vanilla extract

2 cups flour

3 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1 good pinch nutmeg, freshly ground

1/2 cup whole milk, room temperature

Preheat the oven to 375. Beat the butter and sugar together until lightly fluffy. Add the eggs, one at a time, until well mixed. Add vanilla.

In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt and nutmeg. Gradually add the flour mixture to the batter about 1/4 at a time and beat together. Add about 1/3 of the milk, and continue to alternate combining the milk and flour until all well incorporated.

Butter a 9x9 pan, and spoon the batter in, smoothing the top with a spatula. Bake for 30-35 minutes.

One of Those Days - Pasta with Peas, Parsley, Mint & Bacon

Have you ever had one of those days?

You know, where you wake up after a long, restless night thinking it's Friday. But it's not. It's Tuesday.

You drag yourself out of bed to make some coffee, and realize you are out of filters. So you vow to get your coffee when you get to work, and you get yourself out the door and down to the bus stop. And when you get there it starts to rain. Actually, it starts to pour. And you're without an umbrella. And you're too stubborn to miss the bus and take the next one to go get it. So you get on the bus dripping wet and there's a fight halfway through your commute. So the bus driver stops the bus to break it up and all you can think is, "How is it possible that it is 9:30 in the morning, people are fighting and I haven't even had my coffee yet?"

So you get to work and you make it through the day, sustained only by a single thought: "Tonight, I will make cake." You rush to the grocery store and grab all the necessary ingredients, and you head home, pre-heat your oven...and then you realize...you forgot to get butter. A very necessary ingredient for cake. And you had the perfect blog post for this cake all ready to go. But there will be no cake. Because there is no butter.

Yeah. I had one of those days.

There was no cake. Instead, I went to the gym. And then I made pasta. Because dammit, one way or another, I was going to get my carb fix tonight.

Stay tuned for cake.




Pasta with Peas, Parsley, Mint & Bacon
adapted from Bon Appetit

1 16 ounce package pasta (I used Gemelli, shells would also be great)
1 cup heavy whipping cream
1 16 ounce package frozen petite peas (do not thaw)
1 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus additional for serving
1/4 cup chopped fresh mint
1/2 cup chopped fresh Italian parsley, divided
3 strips of bacon, chopped

Pre-heat the oven to 375. Place bacon strips on a foil lined baking sheet. Cook for 25 minutes, then drain over paper towels. Chop.

Meanwhile, cook pasta in a large pot of boiling salted water, stir occasionally until just tender but still firm to the teeth. Drain, reserving 1/2 cup of the pasta water. Return the pasta to the pot.

While the pasta is cooking, place a large skillet over medium-high and bring the cream to a simmer. Add peas and simmer until just heated through, about 1-2 minutes. Add most of the Parmesan and stir until melted and the sauce thickens slightly, about 1 minute. Stir in the mint, and most of the parsley. Pour the sauce over the pasta and toss to coat, adding pasta cooking liquid a little at a time if too dry. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Sprinkle with remaining parsley and Parmesan and serve.

Ease Into It - Brown Butter Risotto with Sherry & Poached Shrimp

In the span of five days, I went from Maui's 90 degree temperatures, warm blue waters and white sandy beaches with palm trees, to the 30 degree snowy slopes of Squaw Valley in Tahoe. Life is feeling very full at the moment.

And as I always say, the best way to ease out of one vacation is to throw yourself into another. I have no problem doing that with gusto.

The problem is, now I'm out of planned vacations for awhile, with nothing to tide me over. That is not an enjoyable feeling. I think I'm going to have to come up with an affordable idea or two. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to summer.

Here's a confession: spring is probably my least favorite season. Oh, I know it's when things are blooming, starting to come out of the ground, everything has a fresh taste and smell to it. It's lovely, but it's just not summer. I'm looking forward to a hot sun; swimming, windows open and down, summer tomatoes, peaches and berries. I can't wait!

But, in the meantime, there's still enough chill in the air for cozy dishes like risotto.

My fridge looked pretty bare when I came back from Hawaii, and seeing how I was leaving again so quickly, I thought the thing to do would be to rummage through the pantry to come up with a quick dinner. I had Arborio rice, sherry, an onion, chicken stock, butter, frozen shrimp and some Parmesan. Great for a basic risotto, but how to make it even better? So easy. Can't believe I'd never thought about it before. I simply browned the butter. It lent a wonderfully nutty flavor. A great way to add a bit of flare to an totally simple dish.




Brown Butter Risotto with Sherry and Poached Shrimp

8 frozen shrimp
4 cups reduced-sodium chicken stock
3 tablespoon butter, at room temperature
1 cup finely chopped onion
1 1/2 cups Arborio Rice
1/2 cup dry sherry
1/2 cup grated Parmesan
salt and pepper to taste
chives for garnish (optional)

In a medium saucepan, bring the chicken stock to a boil. Keep hot over low heat. After the risotto has been cooking for about 10 minutes, add the shrimp to the remaining broth and poach until shrimp is cooked through. Remove from the broth with a slotted spoon and set aside.

In a large saucepan, melt 3 tablespoons of butter over medium heat. Cook until the butter begins to foam and then turns brown, about 1 to 1 1/2 minutes. Add the onion and cook, about 3 minutes. Add the rice and stir to coat with the butter. Add the sherry and simmer until the liquid has almost evaporated, about 3 minutes. Add 1/2 cup of stock and stir until almost completely absorbed, about 2 minutes. Continue adding the stock, 1/2 cup at a time, stirring constantly and allowing each addition of stock to absorb before adding the next. Cook until the rice is tender but still firm to the bite, about 20 minutes. Remove from the heat. Stir in the Parmesan cheese. Season with salt and pepper, to taste. Top with shrimp and garnish with chives

Textilists - Citrus Marinated Mahi Mahi

My Sister and I decided to spend one of our last days in Maui taking a dolphin snorkeling cruise over to the island of Lanai. We were promised said snorkeling with dolphins, whales breaching next to the boat, gorgeous colorful reefs and fish of all kinds. We lined up to catch our boat promptly at 8:15am, excited and ready. We noticed a large cruise ship docked offshore, and wondered if the passengers would be infiltrating our boat. Several lifeboats were making the trip from behemoth ship to shore (and getting swamped by waves in the process.)

10:30am and we still hadn't boarded our boat. They made an announcement to say that they were, of course, waiting for the cruise ship passengers who were having a hard time making it over by lifeboat due to the large surf.

When we were finally able to board at 11am, we had to wait even longer. The boat had to pull out of the harbor to let other boats in. A few of the cruise passengers who had made it over sat down next to us. At this point, there were about 20 people on board our boat, with 80 more yet to board.

"Are you two on the cruise?" asked a boisterous and slightly obnoxious older man. We answered no. "Oh!" He exclaimed, "You're textilists!"

Excuse us?

"Textilists! Y'know, you wear clothes!"

Turns out, it was a nudist cruise. A gigantic cruise ship filled with 1000 nudists.

We were baffled. And now two hours late in leaving, due to 80 nudists (thankfully clothed on our boat) but seemingly planning to disrobe once we donned snorkel masks.

At that point, our boat headed back into the harbor to pick up the other 80. My Sister and I had had it. The nudists had taken over our sweet little deck table, "You don't mind if we share this table with you, do you?" Errr...sort of? We jumped ship and got a refund as soon as we were back in the harbor. So much for our dolphin snorkeling experience.

It's not that I have a problem with nudists. Hey, if that's what floats your boat (so to speak) I'm all for it. Maybe not my personal choice (being a textilist and all) but whatever. It was more the fact that they were so pushy, loud, made us 2 hours late, and oh, the sheer number of them: 1000!!!!

I kept thinking about the David Sedaris essay where he stays at a nudist colony for 2 weeks to see what it's like. Being a germaphobe, he has a difficult time of it, as he can't sit down anywhere without bringing a clean towel along.

We did see dolphins later that day, just off the beach where we'd decided to spread out. Our textilist beach. And as we told each other that day, it makes for a good story, doesn't it?

And then, there's something about being next to the ocean. It makes you crave fresh seafood.
Does that seem wrong, somehow? Kind of morbid? Shall we just ignore the fact that I'm eating those friendly fish I was just snorkeling with?

Cool breezes, warm air, outdoor dinning: these things all screams for fresh and local, light and tangy, healthy and delicious with little preparation and mess.

The following was a collaborative meal. My Mother wanted Mahi Mahi, I wanted a citrus marinade. So I took care of that, and she did the rest.



Citrus Marinated Mahi Mahi

For the Marinade:
4 tbsp fresh orange juice (I used clementines, tangerines or any other citrus would work well)
3 tbsp fresh lemon juice
2 tbsp fresh lime jice
3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
Salt & freshly ground black pepper to taste

4 Mahi Mahi steaks (about 1-inch thick)
1 tbsp cilantro, chopped
lime slices, for garnish

Preheat the broiler to high. Whisk marinade ingredients together in a bowl.

Place the fish steaks in a shallow baking dish. Pour about half of the marinade over them (reserve the rest of the marinade). Let the fish sit in the marinade for 10 minutes at room temperature.

Transfer the fish steaks to a broiler pan and broil, turning them once with a spatula, until the steaks are golden on the outside and done to taste inside, about 4-6 minutes per side. Drizzle with the reserved marinade, garnish with the chopped cilantro, limes and serve.

If your steaks are thinner than 1-inch, reduce the cooking time slightly. If they are thicker, increase the cooking time.

Maui - A Tropical Vacation is the Best Kind of Vacation

I'm having phantom smelling spells. I keep getting whiffs of plumeria, sunscreen and coconut. I'm having Maui withdrawals, obviously. I don't think I would have survived the transition back to the mainland, were it not for my dear friend Amber, who works at the bar on my street. She has been feeding my Pina Colada addiction, gunning full speed with her industrial strength blender and trigger finger.



One of the most exciting things about my recent trip, was that I conquered my fear of snorkeling. To be fair, I hadn't tried snorkeling since I was about 8, and at that age I was terrified of being nibbled by fish. This time, I had a hard time getting myself out of the water, especially when I realized I could hear the songs of the humpback whales underwater. It was an amazing experience to hear that, and to swim through the coral reefs. Add tons of green sea turtles to that, a few pods of dolphins, some white sand beaches and palm trees, and it all adds up to a pretty great vacation. I'm feeling very relaxed, though I'm sad to be back. And actually, kind of refreshed work-wise.




Not only did I encounter all kinds of magical sea creatures, but I also had a magical creature sighting on land. While wandering through a tiny local market, my Sister turned to me and said, "See that guy at the end of the aisle? Isn't he on TV?" I turned and looked, and there was Mr. Big from Sex and the City. I'll admit, I stared a bit (he's pretty damn good looking) but aside from that and a quick perusal of what was in his shopping cart (Fig Newmans, yogurt, milk and water) there was no conversation. Just some ogling on my part. He's Mr. Big! Who wouldn't ogle!? Best celebrity sighting I have ever had.



And yes, there was the typical tropical fare. As previously mentioned, I downed more than my share of Pina Coladas; but also fresh pineapple and papaya with lime, fresh fish, bananas right off the tree...a pretty wonderful way to eat. When everything is abundant, fresh and healthy, it seems you need less, but enjoy it more.

Corresponding recipes coming soon...

Home, Home, Again - Pasta With Beet Greens

I miss Maui. I missed it as soon as the airplane took off and the turquoise waters and lush green mountains disappeared underneath me.

I walked out of my apartment in Berkeley in a tank top this morning. That was wishful thinking. It was only about 65 outside. Lovely for the Bay Area in Spring, but no 85 degree Maui weather. I spun around and walked right back inside to change.

I tried to remember to enjoy every second of the trip. I haven't been anywhere tropical since I was 13. Time seems to move so much more quickly when you're hyper conscious about not losing a single second of it. It slips away so fast!

It was the quintessential vacation, and I hope to go back to Maui sometime soon. (A girl can dream!)

But, more on the trip later. For now, a recipe. A great one.

I made this pasta with the leftover beet greens from the beet hummus. I have to say, I was expecting it to be fairly good (I love beet greens) but instead I got something amazing. I could have slurped the balsamic reduction up with a spoon, it was so good. And it looked unbelievably pretty on the plate. All fuchsia and maroon. I sort of danced around after the first bite, wishing someone else was present to witness and taste this glorious dish. It's the kind of dish that's meant to be shared, so, in that case, I'll have to make it again.




Pasta With Beet Greens
adapted from Gourmet
serves 6

1/4 cup olive oil
1/3 cup pine nuts
3 garlic cloves, finely chopped
2 medium red onions (1 lb), halved and thinly sliced lengthwise
3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
1 1/2 lb beet greens with stems (from about 2 bunches beets), stems cut into 1-inch pieces and leaves cut crosswise into 3-inch-wide pieces, divided
1 cup water, divided
3/4 lb spaghetti, bowtie pasta or penne
1/2 cup pitted kalamata olives, halved

Heat oil in a 12-inch heavy skillet over medium heat until it shimmers. Add pine nuts and toast, stirring, until golden, about 2 minutes. Transfer to a plate with a slotted spoon.

Add garlic to oil remaining in skillet and cook, stirring, until golden. Add onions and 1/4 tsp salt and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 8 minutes. Add vinegar and cook, stirring, until most is evaporated, about 2 minutes. Add beet stems, 3/4 cup water, and 1/2 tsp salt and cook, covered, stirring occasionally, until stems begin to soften, about 12 minutes.

Cook pasta in a pot of boiling salted water (2 Tbsp salt for 6 qt water) until al dente. Reserve 1 cup pasta-cooking water, then drain pasta.

Meanwhile, add beet leaves to onion mixture in handfuls, turning each handful with tongs until the leaves are wilted before adding next batch. Add remaining 1/4 cup water and 1/4 tsp salt and cook, covered, stirring occasionally, until just tender, 5 to 6 minutes. Add olives, then add pasta and cook, tossing and moistening with some of the cooking water as necessary, just until liquid has thickened slightly. Serve sprinkled with pine nuts.

Off I Go - Beet Hummus

I love Fridays. I love them even more when they mark the start of vacation. And this particular Friday, for me, does just that. Time to record "away" voicemail messages at work, to send out emails with particulars for while I'm gone... I'm actually considering leaving my own computer behind and unplugging completely. Although, to be honest, that sort of scares me. Not sure I'm ready to go cold turkey yet...

I won't tell you where I'm off to. I'd much rather post a few pictures upon my return. I promise to make a few location appropriate dishes while I'm gone. Needless to say, I'm pretty excited about the trip. Although, it does mean I have to get on a plane again. Not. Going. To. Think. About. It. (Deep breaths.)

By the way, did you know you could make hummus out of beets? I had no idea, although it was amazingly simple and really just made so much sense. I stumbled across the recipe over on Simply Recipes, but honestly, you could figure it out yourself with a bit of common sense. I also think you could just make regular hummus and cut back on the amount of chickpeas when adding the beets. This has got to be a crowd pleaser for sure. Look at the color, so beautiful! I think it would be delicious with a dab of goat cheese on top as well. I finished the bowl pretty quickly. Feeling quite pleased that I now have another use for beets.

Alright, off you go. Enjoy it. See you when I'm back from vacation!




Beet Hummus
adapted from Simply Recipes

4 medium beets, cleaned and scrubbed
2 1/2 tbsp tahini
5 tbsp fresh lemon juice
zest of 2 lemons
1 clove garlic, minced
2 tsp ground cumin
pinch of kosher salt
fresh ground pepper to taste

Pre-heat oven to 375. Place the beets in a dutch oven, or baking dish covered with foil. Fill the dish with about 1/4 inch water, place the beets inside. Cover and bake for about 1/2 hour, until they can be pierced easily with a fork. Once the beets are done, set aside to let cool and then cut into cubes.

Combine all ingredients in a food processor or blender. You can also use a hand blender. Pulse until smooth and well combined. Season to taste.

Guest Post By Leah - Raw Dino Kale Saad

There are some things in life that are just...great. Things like, a good gin & tonic. Italian Pizza. A kiss that makes you weak in the knees. Hearing your favorite song come on on the jukebox. Those are good things. Those are great things. Having your friend pick you up from work on your lunch hour so that she can recipe test on you...that qualifies as a great thing.

Enter Leah.

This Monday, she did just that. I'd driven home from Sacramento at 6:30 that morning. I could barely keep my eyes open at work, and was not so subtly trying to plan my escape, when Leah asked if I wanted to come over for lunch. I did. I am no fool.

And so she picked me up. And made me lunch. Made this salad, to be clear. I swooned over this salad. This salad was amazing. Had she not been looking, I would have gobbled the whole thing up in 5 seconds flat. I asked her to do a guest post for it, and she did just that. Enjoy!


Raw Dino Kale Salad - Guest Post by Leah

When Lily asked me if I was planning on watching the Oscars this year, I have to admit, I wasn’t that interested. But, then she pitched me the idea of making martinis and snacks and watching with a group of sensitive s**t-talkers. I was sold as soon as she said the word martini.

I love a martini.

Classic. With gin, of course.

I love the idea of it. I love trying to lift the awkward glass from the table to my mouth without loosing too much of the precious juice on the bar. I love the cold and crisp herby or citrus-y flavor. I love that it is uncomplicated. And I love that it comes with a snack. (ahhh, that emerald olive)

My dad introduced me to the best martini I have ever had about a year ago while I was with him on a business trip in Denver. The first night, we headed to his favorite restaurant in Denver, called Jax. We sat at the bar and ate red-curry muscles and drank martinis made from Cap Rock Gin. Cap Rock Gin is distilled at the Jack Rabbit Hill Biodynamic Farm in western Colorado's North Fork Gunnison Valley. It is made with apples, and so has a slightly sweet yet clean flavor. Oh, man, it is SO good!

And, I am digressing to the millionth degree. Martini’s make me do that.

So, the Oscars. We laughed, we cried. We discussed fashion, and the crazy white lady Kanye who stole Roger Ross Williams’s, (director of the best documentary short, Music by Prudence,) thunder. And we drank martinis. But, wouldn’t you know it, the real star of the show wasn’t the headliner, but the supporting actor. The raw kale salad I made as an after thought (we needed a vegetable dish to cut the richness of with our salumi and cheese-filled snack/dinner) stole my beloved martini’s spotlight.

I admit, I love this salad almost as much as I love a classic martini. It packs a punch of tangy-ness from the lemon juice and almost creamy-ness from the Parmesan. But the real treat is the raw kale. Dino kale is dark and bumpy, crunchy and satisfying, with a slightly sweet and herbaceous flavor, not completely unlike my favorite martini.

After a fall and winter of kale and leek pasta, braised kale, sautéed kale, and many, many other dishes of cooked kale, it was a pleasure to bring this back into the fold. I first read about this salad in the NY Times, and I have made it a few times over the years. It is always a winner It is the perfect accompaniment to just about anything, or it can stand out on it’s own, just like an Oscar dress or a martini.

Raw Dino Kale Salad
from the NY Times, October 2007

1 bunch Dino Kale (also called Tuscan or Lacinato Kale)
1/3 cup toasted, coarse breadcrumbs (from good white, sourdough, or Italian bread)
1-2 small cloves garlic, finely chopped
1/3 cup grated cheese, preferably Pecorino Romano (or Ricotta Salata)
3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil, plus some to garnish as needed
Fresh juice of one to 2 lemons (about ¼ cup)
1/8 – ¼ tsp. red pepper flakes (to taste)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Trim kale removing stems and discard. Slice kale leaves, including ribs, into very thin ribbons (1/8 inch or so). You should have 4-5 cups.

For the breadcrumbs, tear bread into little pieces or pulse stale bread in food processor. Toast bread in 350* oven for 7-12 minutes or until the crumbs are dry and just browned. Let cool completely.

With a mortar and pestle or the side of a knife, pound garlic into a paste with the salt. Place in a small bowl with the cheese, oil, lemon juice, pepper flakes and black pepper, and whisk to combine. Taste and adjust seasonings as needed.

Alternately, place garlic, cheese, oil, lemon juice, pepper flakes and salt and pepper in the bowl of a food processor and pulse until it is all incorporated and the garlic is finely minced.

Put kale in large bowl, pour the dressing over and toss thoroughly (dressing is a little bit thick because of the cheese and so needs lots of mixing to get all the kale covered. Using hands for this is a good method).

Let the salad sit for a minute, mix in and top with cooled breadcrumbs, and more cheese if you want.

If you are holding the salad for a while, and it will keep very nicely for a few days in the fridge, add more bread crumbs when you serve it or they will get very soggy (which, I personally love)

Yield: four side-dish servings

In Other News - Sunchoke, Celeriac & Fennel Salad with Dried Cherries & Hazelnuts

Not to brag or anything, but I did get 13 predictions right for the Oscars. Including all the big awards. Why do I never take my instincts to Vegas? I could make a killing! My thoughts about the show on a whole this year, though, are basically, "Meh, whatever." Except for two things: Jeff Bridges (he should have been nominated, and should have won for The Big Lebowski), who I am terribly excited for, and the clothes. I care a whole lot about the clothes.

While no one beats my all-time favorite Oscar dress (this one), I did go crazy for both Rachel McAdams gorgeous pastel water-color confection, and also for Cameron Diaz's sparkly Oscar De La Renta number.

I am really in it for the clothes.

Thanks to Lesley for hosting me this weekend. We made a beautiful pizza together, so good that it was devoured before any pictures could be snapped. Then we headed up to Tahoe yesterday for a day of skiing. I'm not sure my legs will ever forgive me, not to mention my toes and feet. Ski boots are basically just torture devices. Will no one make a comfortable ski boot? Can anyone aid me in this search? The future of my participation in this winter sport depends upon the finding of a decent and comfortable ski boot. Otherwise my feet will go on strike. Suggestions?

In other news, I made this salad. Riffing off a recipe I saw in the San Francisco Chronicle, I never would have thought to shave sunchokes for a salad. To tell you the truth, I never thought about eating them raw. I'm glad I now know it can be done. Pretty, no?




Not necessarily Oscar dress pretty, but it does make for an attractive lunch.

On a side note, the mandolin (a gift from my Mother) worked so perfectly for this salad. I'm so excited to finally have one!

Sunchoke, Celeriac & Fennel Salad with Dried Cherries & Hazelnuts

2 Sunchokes, scrubbed and shaved/sliced thin
1 small head celeriac, shaved thin or cut into matchsticks
1 head of fennel, shaved thin or cut into matchsticks
1/4 cup dried cherries
1/4 cup toasted hazelnuts, coarsely chopped
shaved Parmesan or Manchego for topping
coarse salt & pepper to taste
1 tsp chopped fennel fronds for garnish

For the dressing:
2 tbsp champagne or sherry vinegar
1 tbsp or less extra virgin olive oil
coarse salt and pepper to taste

Whisk dressing ingredients together. Arrange sunchoke, celeriac and fennel slices together in a serving bowl. Top with cherries, hazelnuts, cheese and chopped fennel fronds. Drizzle dressing over the salad and serve.

Form & Function - My *Very* Tiny Kitchen

Earlier this week my friend and fellow blogger Kim posted some pictures of kitchens from around the blogosphere. I love sneaking a peak at other people's kitchens, both for inspiration and design ideas. People always say that the kitchen is the heart of a house, and I, for one, certainly believe that to be true. I love seeing how people's personalities are reflected in this particular space.

Kim asked me for a few pictures of my own kitchen. It took me awhile, but I've finally gotten around to it, and I thought I might as well post them here.

This is my tiny, nay, minuscule kitchen. This space is obviously not without its challenges. For prep space, I have a pull-out cutting board next to the sink. It tilts down at a good angle, and I'm still working at corralling all my ingredients so they don't roll onto the floor when things get cluttered, or when the angle becomes too extreme.



As you can see, there's not much space for a rolling kitchen-island type of thing. If I had the room, it would be the first addition on my list. Yet, as much as I can complain about a lack of space, it does force me to be creative and concise about what I bring into the kitchen area. Everything must have a place and a purpose.

In general, when you inhabit as small a space as I do, storage is at a minimum, and nearly everything is on display. If I don't want to look at it everyday, I don't buy it. While function is first and foremost, I've learned to combine it with form. The result is a small (tiny!) space that I like to spend time in, and that makes me feel good. You'd be surprised at the number of things you can cook and prep in even the tiniest space.




So now I'm curious. Anybody have a space that they'd like to share? Anybody have a space smaller that this?! If so, I'd love to see it! I'm sure there are kitchens smaller than mine, though it is hard to imagine...

That'll Fix Her Up - Fried Chickpeas with Spinach & Chorizo

This past Saturday I slept late for the first time in recent memory. When I was finally able to drag myself out of bed, I enjoyed a lazy morning inside. I made myself a cup of coffee and turned on the TV to find that Julia Child's The French Chef was on. Julia was having an "omelette party" in her living room, cooking up dozens of omelettes on bunson burners. She listed her guests, and the kinds of omelettes she planned to create for them. "Oh there's my husband, spinach and cheese for him...there's so and so, ham and cheese for them," she said in her singsong voice, and then I heard her say, "And OHHHhhhhh here comes my Mother-in-Law, I'll give her a liver omelette, that'll fix her up."

I laughed so hard that coffee shot out my nose.

Oh, Julia! So enjoyable. I actually just finished her book, My Life in France, which was a birthday present from my sister. I loved it. It was amusing and entertaining. I couldn't believe I hadn't read it before. I highly recommend it.

On another note: thank you all so much for the words of encouragement after my post on knife skills. It's sometimes shocking to realize people actually read and recreate from this blog. It makes me very proud, and I'm always so happy to hear when people have enjoyed something, or have something to say about what was posted. And also, a huge thank you to Wendy. I opened up my blog email the other day to find a gift certificate to "Kitchen on Fire" from her. It was such a touching and thoughtful gift. Thank you so much, Wendy! It will be put to good use!

This Mark Bittman recipe caught my eye in The New York Times the other day: "Fried Chickpeas with Spinach and Chorizo." A totally affordable, quick and easy dish. I made it this weekend, and again tonight. I think it's going to become a regular around here. I tweaked it just a bit to my liking by increasing the amount of spinach called for, and also by adding lemon at the end. I think the lemon in particular adds some much-needed acidity to the dish. The best part of the whole thing? It's a one pan meal. Nothing better than that!




This recipe is easily amenable to for vegans /vegetarians. Just use soyrizo instead of chorizo. You can find it just about anywhere these days.

Fried Chickpeas with Chorizo & Spinach
adapted slightly from Mark Bittman

1/4 cup olive oil, plus more for drizzling
2 cups cooked or canned chickpeas, as dry as possible
Salt and black pepper
1/2 cup chorizo, diced
1 pound spinach, roughly chopped
1/4 cup sherry
1 to 2 cups bread crumbs.
juice of 1 lemon

Heat the broiler.

Heat 3 tbsp of olive oil in a skillet large enough to hold chickpeas in one layer over medium-high heat. When it’s hot, add chickpeas, season with salt and pepper.

Reduce heat to medium-low and cook, shaking the pan occasionally, until chickpeas begin to brown, about 10 minutes, then add chorizo. Continue cooking for another 5 to 8 minutes or until chickpeas are crisp; remove chickpeas and chorizo from pan and set aside.

Add the remainder of the olive oil to the pan; when it’s hot, add spinach and sherry, season with salt and pepper, and cook spinach over medium-low heat until very soft and most of the liquid has evaporated. Add chickpeas and chorizo back to the pan and toss quickly to combine; top with bread crumbs, drizzle with a bit more oil and run pan under the broiler to lightly brown the top. Once the top is browned, remove from the oven, and generously drizzle with the fresh lemon juice. Serve hot or at room temperature.