The Vagabond Table

On what makes a Fine Indian Woman

2012-01-28T12:47:00.001-05:00

When I think of Aloo Gobi, for some reason I don’t think of home. I think of the movie “Bend It Like Beckham” which taught me that once a gal knows how to make a good Aloo Gobi, you’re officially a Fine Indian Woman and will have no problem taking over the world, thankyouverymuch.

Aloo is potato. Gobi is cauliflower, and when brought together with a bevy of fun spices it is absolutely delicious. I punked out and bought some store-made naan bread that I warmed up in the oven, which is also where I happened to roast these veggies first instead of sauteeing them because cauliflower is pretty much only fantastic when you roast it (true story). Roasted Veggie Aloo Gobi! I can’t take all the credit for this (inspired as I was by a recipe I found from Gourmet), but still, it was up my Aloo Gobi alley and that’s where I followed it with excellent results.

The roomie tends to rag on me for not making more food from my Motherland, but here I am, with solid Chole Palak, Pulau, Raita, Lassi, Apple Chutney, and Aloo Gobi recipes under my belt and I can’t help but think that’s pretty damn good for a gal from the desert in Arizona.

To my vegan and veggie-friendly friends, this is one of those dishes that, when served with some warmed up flatbread-of-choice, makes for a delicious, healthy, and pretty satisfying dinner. And I challenge those of you scared of making your own Indian food to buy a few spices and try it out…it’s not scary, and the flavors are only overpowering if you over-season. I promise.

So eat up! Meatless Monday is coming up, and I hear it's all the rage these days.

Putting Things Off (A Perfect Example of How To or Not To Start The New Year)

2012-01-05T22:15:00.000-05:00

I love New Years. Isn't it great to look back and take full stock of your life, the good and the bad, and what you want in it, what you want out of it, and above all, how to go about doing it. Fresh, new ideas. Sparkling lights. Mountains of champagne and spontaneous midnight dance parties at the stroke of twelve. Maybe even fireworks, if you're lucky. Yes, new years is quite the time.

It's also the time to go about getting "healthier" whatever that means. I've now been trying to start a "cleanse" for what was originally a two week time period. I've now cut it down to a week, and since I apparently don't even have the time for that it's looking like if I can do a cleanse for two whole days thats about as good as it's gonna get. I don't know what it's supposed to fight against, but apparently it's something to do with processed sugars, flours, dairy, meats, gluten, and all the good things I usually love to munch. You'd think that one as determined as I could handle that. And maybe I can, (this weekend perhaps?) but until then... let's have some doughnuts. Apple Cider Doughnuts, to be exact. And if we want to get fancy on the doughnut holes, lets just drape them in syrup and name them Maple Syrup Glazed Doughnut Holes. Happy New Years to US!

We had our annual "O-Hole-Y Breakfast" this past December where I busted out a brand new doughnut on my unsuspecting guests. And love them some doughnuts they did. I really liked how these were cake doughnuts, and I didn't have to wait for yeast to help raise the dough...instead...I just got down to bizniz, and me and the doughnuts succeeded on all counts.

I recently read in a Bon Appetit about the obsession with Maple Syrup in the grand region of Quebec in Canada, and they mentioned dousing hot doughnuts in pure maple syrup and damn if those northern neighbors of ours weren't spot on in syrup-soaked-fried-bread. Genius! Inspirational! Montreal, Quebec City...maple makers...I'll be visiting you soon, I promise.

It was a grand time had by all, and foods with holes continue to wow friends and family alike. I also made them for Christmas morning brunch and they went over just as well in AZ as they do in DC, so do me a solid and try these doughnuts on an upcoming lazy (and freezing) Saturday morning. You can high-five me later in the new year (but make sure to do it before the world ends this upcoming December, k?)

Happy 2012 and Happy Food Adventuring!

Fun-Guy Soup

2011-12-19T17:40:00.000-05:00

I know what you’re thinking. I can practically see the wheels turning in your head as you send me a snarky mental note.

Really Samantha? Another soup? A) of all, that's an awful pun in your title. B) of all, this isn't very Vagabond-y of you and, of all things, it deals strictly in mushrooms which don’t really taste like anything. I see your adventurous side has taken to long walks in the forest while you search for things that only hermits eat, like nuts, berries, and mushrooms. I need more than mushroom soup to be a happy adventurer.

Hoping you jump out of that soup bowl and into something more exciting,

--Anonymous Reader

WELL, anonymous readers, I do need to let you in on a little secret. This ain’t yo mama’s mushroom soup (at least it ain’t mine, bc my mama never MADE mushroom soup. So there.) It especially is not, at all, a Campbells-esque style mushroom soup (which I don’t even consider as being mushroom soup.) It is, however, from a New York City landmark restaurant, Balthazar, and it is a Cream of Mushroom Soup as you've never had before. It is lush. It is earthy (which appeals to me since I’m a Virgo. Translation = Earth sign!) But it is completely, utterly, all-encompassingly, mushroomingly… perfect.

There are many riffs of this version in particular floating around the internet, but I foresaw the need to have the Balthazar cookbook on hand years ago when I ran across it in a used-book store, and to the original book I went. You can look a million things up online, but I swear, nothing compares to a soup-spattered page of a beloved cookbook nestled in your cabinets.

And, surprise of all surprises, it’s pretty easy. It has a lovely amount of herbs to make the soup juuust interesting enough without overpowering the mushrooms. I kid you not, this mushroom soup wowed my work friends enough to have my boss ask me to cook for her holiday party, featuring pretty much this, and only this, soup. (Turned her down to actually go home for the holidays, but don’t think I wasn’t tempted to spend my days before Christmas wrapped up in my kitchen making boatloads of this magical deliciousness).

I’m sharing this just in time for your Christmas Eve dinners, and as a special present to you this holiday. I’m glad to have this blog, I’m grateful for your readership, and I can’t wait to see what kind of adventures we can get into together by next Christmas.

Ginger Lovin

2011-12-01T22:49:00.001-05:00

This is a bit belated, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY Vagabond Table! Three years and counting. I cheers to you and your continued, well-written health, and may you continue to share recipes I love with the world beyond my front door.

I'd like to dedicate my first official Winter-timey post to soup. Seems obvious, but I would like to defend this for a second, if I may. Especially when this particular soup has already encountered quite a bit of disbelief in its greatness (ahem, MOM), but is really one of the best soups I've made in the past year. Imagine something velvet-smooth, with the sweetness of carrot, the tang of ginger, a swirl of greek yogurt peeking through and suddenly you have Carrot Ginger Soup and you are not quite ever a fan of normal carrots anymore. Not like I ever was, but this soup will sit you down, woo you, and make you a believer in the power of ginger.

Speaking of Ginger, I feel like both the food and real-life gingers I know need some winter lovin. I'd like to proudly announce that, of my friends with babies, of which there are only two, they are BOTH Ginger Babies and both my favorite little ones out there right now. Can we take a second to appreciate the pigtails below? My friend Little Ginger as I like to call Miss Miriam, the first of my fave gingeroos?

I'll share more pics of my new little friend, Blake, at some point when his ginger hair grows out beyond what would usually be called 'bald' on any man 40 years older than he currently is. More ginger lovin to come, I promise you.

Ginger is also amazing for a sore throat (ginger tea! getcha some) and is nice surprise in this dish, kind of like an unexpected visitor that stays for a while, or a chance meeting with a friend on the street. You never know what might come your way, and I think that alone proves this soup deserves the spotlight in your kitchen on a cold evening. It also doesn't hurt that during these long days Carrot Ginger Soup is like a neon shot of bright orange straight to your kitchen table.

All that's warm and good in life, wrapped up in a bowl, from me, for you. Happy beginning-of-the-holidays and may this be the start to a season of only good things for you.

Up In Knots

2011-10-20T15:20:00.002-04:00

For months it seemed like I had no time to write on here. But now, on my 2nd day staying home sick from work, I've found some time. And it feels great to sip at some potato (beer!) soup and get back to Vagabond basics while listening to Feist's new album, Metals.

Looking out my window, the wind is racing, and changing the day from gray to sunny to gray to sunny and everything in between. It's a continuous movement, and I find myself mesmerized by how constant the weather changes are. The reliability of change. A lovely thing, once I start to think on it a bit more.

From The Vagabond Table

Another lovely thing is my finally cracking open Good to the Grain by Kim Boyce (a Christmas present I'd begged for last year) and trying my hand at a few things, most notably the Soft Rye Pretzels (!) for our annual Oktoberfest shindig that went down last weekend.

From The Vagabond Table

In all honesty the roomie and I made 2 types of pretzels, and while the 2nd recipe might have been slightly easier in terms of rising times, this one was the more hearty and flavorful of the two, being a mix between white and rye flours. If the idea of rye conjurs up images of rye bread, try your best to put them aside...rye bread also gets its flavor from caraway seeeds, not necessarily the rye, and, in an earnest suggestion between you and me, rye deserves a second chance.

From The Vagabond Table

I found that pretzels are pretty fun to make...kind of like when you rolled play-doh into logs and worms when you were a kid (which is quite a useful skill to maintain in the making of pretzels) and that it's even more fun to knot them up and boil them and sprinkle them and bake them and suddenly have pretzels on your hands. Real Pretzels! Not the hard kind from a bag at the grocer, but the warm, crackly, soft kind, (mall-variety, but infinitely better).

From The Vagabond Table

These pretzels are even better when served with this Beer Mustard recipe I'd adapted a few years ago, these Bratwurst Bites and this incredible red cabbage dish . Happy Oktobering to you all and may you soon find a Soft Rye Pretzel in one hand and brew in the other. Prost!

A Funny Thing

2011-08-31T18:01:00.000-04:00

Space is a funny thing. Sometimes you crave it, a little distance from x-y-z, or sometimes it happens when you didn’t even mean for it to (ie, not writing on here for about 2 months now) and a lot of times, when you get exactly what you (un)intentionally wanted, it isn’t always rainbows and puppies. (Case in point, I've missed you, Vagabond Table.)

But space is good, too. It’s good to refocus, to reflect, to put all your energies into one or two things instead of 20 things, because sometimes just a few things require that much time to get through, or, in some cases, get over. And, either way, or all around, or however you end up interpreting this, that distance is a great healer, encourager, and clarifier. And lets you value yourself, and your relationships, and your goals in ways that you never quite had the time to do before. Maybe it even gives you some good ideas for what you want to do in your 29th year of life, as you gratefully bundle up all the 28 years that came before and see what other adventures you can get lost in.

Taking a step back also helps you realize that simple things somehow end up being most important. Things like taking 5 minutes to just pause before the day even starts, when you’re still curled up in bed. Or give a long, long hug to a Grandmother you never get to see. Even just spending the night chatting about anything and everything with a soul-friend, celebrating a new life coming into this world, your brother’s new start at college, a good friend's wedding (in Colorado!) and remembering to never, ever, ever, sell yourself short of the good things in life.

Coffee in the morning. Being lazy on a Saturday. Listening to summer thunderstorms (or hurricanes!) outside your window and watching the lightning electrify your walls. Tostada and movie nights, homemade stovetop popcorn, curling up in the blanket your mom knit you ages ago, listening to records, and feeling the first break in heat as Fall starts creeping up. Late summer peaches being turned into pies. A gift or rosemary from a friend’s garden. Simple things, good things.

And sometimes space works to your cooking favor… for example spaces work most excellently on said Peach Pie, with the classic lattice-woven crust that lets the fruit caramelize while letting the steam out. Maybe that’s all a bit of space is good for in life…letting things cool off, letting the steam out, letting things settle, and then, when it’s time to dive in, all that patience and space leads to something much better.

Use up those peaches and plums, my friends. Put them in a pie, put them in a jar, just put them somewhere you get to enjoy every lovely bit of them. And here's to allowing yourself to pause enough to focus on things you love, and to diving in. Just like we dived into this Rosemary Peach Pie, but hopefully the benefits of that last longer than how long this pie lasted. Which, between 3 people, was less than a day.

It Reminds Me

2011-06-19T22:36:00.001-04:00

I don’t know what it is about summer, but I want to eat seafood All. Of. The. Time. Shrimps! Fish! Ceviche! Crab (and crab cakes!) Mussels and Frites! There really isn’t a downside to any of this. Actually, there’s an additional plus. All of these thoughts of seafood reminded me of Red Lobster, which immediately brought to mind Cheddar Bay Biscuits, the true source of everyone’s obsession with the place.

I found a riff on these in the form of Cheddar and Jalapeño Scones from Smitten Kitchen, and by golly I had to have them one Friday night not too long ago. It wasn’t a convenient time to make them:

A) It was after work. On a Friday. Which usually equals happy hours and a lack of work.
B) It was before a concert (that I ended up ditching out going to anyway, but still).
C) There aren’t a lot of scones being baked at 7pm on a Friday. It's kind of weird...it's a breakfast food.

As you might already know, I am, unabashedly, a cheese lover. And I had to have these scones. Nothing could deter me! I was a woman with a mission, and that mission, once it was ingrained in my head was one that needed to be completed. And complete it I did, in all its buttery, cheesy, glory. These scones are most excellent fresh out of the oven, though they’re fine put back in the oven the next day to warm up a bit. I wish I had some crab and butter or a nice green salad to go along with them instead of just hoarding scones for my dinner that night, but c'est la vie.

However... these white cheddar scones were met with approval from a bevy pre-concert peeps that night, and I’m sure would meet approval with your own crew of summer devotees. So for your next clam bake, BBQ, picnic, or crab-fest, make these and you won’t think twice about needing to turn your oven on for a few minutes, even in the midst of summer heat. Your cheese-loving soul deserves it.

Catching Up

2011-05-30T22:15:00.000-04:00

Things have been so dang busy these past several weeks that I’m realizing Spring Fever isn’t necessarily about getting excited for Spring…it means you’re completely caught up in the whirlwind of activity that arises after the sleepy quietness of winter. Did you know that almost everyone and their mother (mine and Roni’s included) have birthdays in May? And that it's also the month of Graduations and Weddings and Very Important Events? At least it seems that way, and I’m never one to turn down a righteous birthday/graduation/wedding celebration.

I kind of love the hubbub that has come with all this great weather…people in their plaid shorts, dudes in brown flip flops, summer dresses, sandals, and this carefree way of laughing and getting together that suddenly makes life so brimming with fullness that you (accidentally) don't do laundry for two weeks and also forget to go to the grocery store for just as long.

Do you know what that calls for? Emergency meals that feed you for at least 4 days and are kind of great for the odds/ends left in your fridge. Like a ridiculously easy Pasta Puttanesca, which takes those odds and ends and delivers something authentic between all of the glasses of white wine and runnings-about-town that usually replace real meals with fun goings-on.

Canned tomatoes. Some olives and garlic. Parmesan and some parsley. Tuna (in this case I got real with it and did anchovies, but I feel everyone has a can of anchovies or tuna somewhere in a cupboard), leftover dried spaghetti noodles from the last time you made spaghetti noodles, and voila! Pasta Puttanesca, and it is very, very good. It’s even better the next day (bonus!) and sounds a bit fancier than what it actually is.

Also, happy Memorial Day to everyone! I'm currently writing you from sunny San Diego (more on that in a future post) but I'd like to take this quick second to congratulate my brother Christian on his high school graduation (Go Hawks! and now...Go Sun Devils!) and also Brennan and Julie on their wedding. Love you guys.

The Secret's in the Crust

2011-05-16T17:59:00.001-04:00

It’s been a bit of a rollercoaster these past few weeks. Being apart from my fam, it’s been even harder, but, I think, things are starting to buck up again. It also helps that my street is drop-dead gorgeous with its tall arching trees, old houses, and a winding, dipping path down to the zoo. Families and young people are out, dogs are being walked, people are laughing, and, thankfully, the humidity hasn’t set in so I’m not quite looking like Sideshow Bob yet.

I’ve also re-encountered a new, easy, and favorite breakfast food. I think I’d accidentally forgotten about it, but thankfully, Banana Bread hadn't forgotten about me. I like to think it's been lingering around in the back of my mind, waiting (just like the frozen bananas in the back of my freezer) for some months now, and the gift of a week of real and true Spring (!) was the perfect time to make this Coconut Banana Bread, slather on some butter, and watch the happy wanderers below my window.

This bread is good, with a spattering of sweetened coconut inside, a whisper of rum, and a crackly crust. To be honest with you, it's the rustic and uneven crackly top (thanks to a hefty sprinkling of sugar) that absolutely made me fall in love with it. This was also the first time I used frozen bananas in a quick bread, and it was kind of nice knowing I had the foresight to save overly ripened fruit in my freezer for further works of baked goods. It's also reassuring to open my freezer and still see three frozen bananas waiting for their next repurposed dessert... banana cake perhaps? The options are endless, as is my love of banana bread for breakfast.

Comfort Cookies

2011-04-22T16:30:00.002-04:00

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain. ----T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land

I don't know if I've indulged myself in sharing my complete and utter devotion to T.S. Eliot with you before, but man do I have a poet-crush. This crush has lasted for the past 9 years, so I'd be comfortable with saying it's now a deep-seated love, not just a poet crush, but either way, isn't that stanza just beautiful?

The images are gorgeous and tangible and tantalizing. The verbs at the end of each line sound like a weird recipe. And lilacs? The heavens couldn't smell better, all glazed in spring rain. It captures April perfectly.

But the thing is, I think of this stanza when things get hard throughout the year, not just in the spring, and definitely just not in April, and I think it's because Eliot was perfect in his mixing of nature and emotion and letting the images translate for themselves.

I'll be honest. This is a hard time for my family, for me, and for some of my friends. And not just small things like being late for work or for sitting in gum or having a bad hair day. I'm talking big things, that seem to be made all the more big by being 3,000 miles away from home. But how can I dwell on the spring rains and the gray and not see all the beauty that's stirring around me? How can I witness something like multiple trees of flowers spontaneously burst around me and not stop dead in my tracks? How can I not smile? And that's when I think of Eliot, and this poem, and that the flowers always come through the rains, and even when it's hard, good things are working deep within.

If I was back home, I'd make a big batch of these Flourless Peanut Butter Cookies for everyone I know, especially my Grandpa, and serve them warm and fresh with an ice cold glass of milk. We'd play some card games, laugh, tell stories of old hunting and fishing trips around the kitchen table, and forget about the fickleness of spring and the funny way life sometimes is, and sometimes isn't.

Because these cookies are so silly easy, and are so silly good, and so necessary. Sometimes, just a plate of warm peanut butter cookies are good for more than just a few minutes. They're good for a lifetime.

National Grilled Cheese: The Salute

2011-04-17T22:43:00.000-04:00

Ladies and gents, I'd like to wish you a (slightly) belated National Grilled Cheese Day!

Just the fact there's a day devoted to the awesomeness of a grilled cheese inspired me to get all crazy on the original concept and concoct my new fave grilled cheese. Yay for creativity and the original grilled cheeses (cheesus?) that supported it.

I've been a big fan of grilled cheese sandwiches (with tomato soup!) for...I don't know...27 years now? Seriously. I love me my grilled cheese, my soup, and now, 30 Rock playing on Netflix as I snuggle into a chair with this purest of comfort foods.

With dark German wheat bread, a dash of a cayenne sprinkled over my Naani's Apple Chutney, thin slices of red pear, brie, and some fresh spinach leaves, this sandwich was a beauty. Also, ridiculously filling.

It's been a gray week, with extreme flashes of warmth and sun...the perfect Grilled Cheese weather, if you ask me. So join me in saluting our national treasure, the Grilled Cheese Sandwich!

You Say Lemon, I Say Limoncello

2011-03-31T22:07:00.001-04:00

Once upon a time my friend Veebs went to faraway land known as Italy, and came back bearing the gift of gold: Limoncello.

I very much valued this gift of Limoncello, so much so that I refused to part ways with it (for over a year, now) unless it was for a worthwhile and ridiculously delicious cause. I finally found this cause in the form of Limoncello Mint Sorbet, and my friends, I could not have chosen better.

I found this recipe via The Craving Chronicles, and on pondering the loveliness of a lemonish sorbet, I decided to halve the amount of sugar from the original. Lemon sorbet, (and Limoncello Mint Sorbet) is slightly sweet, mostly tart, and should leave your mouth pleasantly surprised albeit a bit puckered.

Don't be deceived by the sorbet's seemingly humble appearance.

This sorbet, actually, is Italian Summer all wrapped up in frozen freshness thanks in part to the reminder of mint, and easy enough to make so you feel fancy in the kitchen without doing much more than boiling some water and squeezing a lemon. Pucker up, friends! Things are getting good.

Forty Days

2011-03-23T14:54:00.000-04:00

So for Lent this year I took it one step further and parted ways with meat (fishies are still allowed), but before I did that I had quite the encounter with a pork shoulder.

You see, it was high time I learned how to make a shredded pork dish. One that’s from those far-off Mexican lands in the Yucatan I read so much about in my anthro class, and I also felt it was high time to make some homemade corn tortillas (Roni, meanwhile made a pimp mango slaw and asian guacamole).

Asian guac is so good

It was time for a lot of things, it seems.

All the citrus I juiced for the Cochinita.

We had a few friends over for dinner and made a lot of food. Too much food, it seemed, until it was clean up time and we realized there were almost no leftovers. How this is humanly possible I cannot tell you. What I can tell you is that the food was fresh, colorful, and well-seasoned, and, coincidentally, was definitely the largest amount of meat ever cooked in our apartment ( and will be the last for the next forty days-ish). But still, I am dreaming of it: Cochinita Pibil.

I went to my local Latino grocery (Best Way) and found a pork shoulder that I wrassled with a bit to trim and skim of fats and such. Not my fave part, I can tell you, but I did emerge triumphant AND confident and that is a great mixture of things to feel in the kitchen.

I also dodged multiple dirty looks from Roni every time I tried to open the oven to take a peek while all the juices simmered and braised away. And by juices I mean an Achiote paste mix with a great blend of grapefruit, orange, lime and lemon. Our apartment was the epitome of heavenly smells, I promise you. Hey-o!

We whipped up some corn tortillas right quick (another tortilla that I've been condemned from ever buying in the store again. Homemade only, from here on out, folks) And, thanks to my handy dandy tortilla press (thanks Aunt Deb!) corn tortillas are ridiculously easy to make. In fact, I made them on three separate occasions in the space of six days. Yeah. I'm like a tortilla factory up in here.

The night ended with an epic game of Up and Down The River, Taboo, and us shouting out random food facts from my sweet Foodie Fight game. Our combined pride at having made an authentically awesome (Mexi-Asian? Aisiexican?) dinner party from scratch was a pretty sweet touch too, and made the segway into Lent a smooth one, paved with shredded pork and corn tortillas. Cochinita: I'm lookin' at you come May.

Eastward Turning Thoughts

2011-03-18T17:22:00.000-04:00

So news of Japan, it seems, continues to roll in and get worse by the day. Honestly, I just haven't had it in me to write about food when there are much bigger issues at hand and suffering beyond my comprehension.

But I love finding words that bring some form of hope, some signal of things turning right, eventually.

Hope is the thing with feathers

that perches in the soul

and sings the tune

without the words,

and never stops at all.

-Emily Dickinson

Wednesday Musings, and Bread

2011-03-02T21:09:00.002-05:00

No matter where I call home anymore, feel like a boat under the trees. Living is strange. -C.D. Wright, from the poem "Living"

It is almost Thursday, and rather than studying feverishly for my test and paper tomorrow , trying to write my name in ancient Mayan, or preparing for my Final which is Friday which sounds somewhat cruel (FINALFRIDAY), I am instead thinking of poetry and lovely writings and how, sometimes, I just need to write a bit more creatively and not necessarily about food.

Does that ever happen to you? To strive to be a bit more than you currently just are, at least for a few minutes?

I also feel nostalgic for something I can't quite put my finger on, but I'm pretty sure it's somehow related to warmth and sunlight (got a lovely but brief glimpse today). Which brings me to contemplating the aromatic niceties of a loaf of bread and suddenly I am back to writing what I know and it seems like the poetry will have to wait for when I'm snuggled in my bed at night with my notebook.

At least I can linger over the words of a poet, spend the evening with them, mull them over between definitions on ancient civilizations of the Americas, and come to the final conclusion of "Well said, Miss Wright. Sometimes I do feel like a boat under the trees. Sometimes home is here or there, and yes. Living is strange," and that'll be that.

It doesn't hurt to have an extra encouraging thought comfort you along the way to finishing your first class in almost seven years (prehistoric ancient civilizations no less!), finishing this winter, and being proud of it all, in the end. A nice thought like baking Buttermilk Oatmeal Bread works well, and having the yeast beasties be pretty awesome at the start is always a good sign.

Seriously, this yeast was crazy and almost spilled over in about 5 minutes.

It's also rather lovely to have a ball of dough to knead your thoughts in and through and out of.

Then finally ending up this winter with a delicious bread that reminds me of my favorite maple bread, but instead this one is a bit like a toasty biscuit along the crust because of the buttermilk and honey nestled in the crumb, along with the heartiness of oatmeal. It is an ideal sandwich bread, an all-round good bread, and I'd like to share a nice and dense slice with you.

Please don't laugh too hard at the shape of my bread...I lost my bread pan and used a soup pot instead.

To March being here, finally, and to your own almost-spring Wednesday night musings. And of course, to Buttermilk Oatmeal Bread.

Sometimes You Just Gotta...

2011-02-28T20:45:00.004-05:00

Make your own dang gnocchi. For real.

On the always-awesome Fresh 365 Online, I spotted this little recipe that originally came from GoodFood. It was lovely and colorful: with greens and more greens, this gorgeous gnocchi which can only described as rustic (a word that is music to my culinarily-leaning ears!) seemed already within my reach as soon as I laid eyes on it.

And, within a few days, this Ricotta, Spinach and Arugula Gnocchi was all mine.

It’s easy. Almost silly-easy, you know? You boil some spinach so it’s soft. Grate up a bunch of Parmesan, chop up some garlic, and just mix it all with some flour and eggs and salt, pepper and arugula and Ka-Bow (Batman Style!) I had gnocchi mix. Then you roll it into 1-inch balls, boil them, and suddenly said gnocchi mix is actual, real-life Italian dumplings (but somehow saying ‘gnocchi’ is just so much sexier than ‘dumplings’). They are dimply and light, especially when served upon a bed of arugula, simply dressed in lemon juice and olive oil and salt and pepper.

They’re especially most-awesome when shared with your best friend while catching up on a Sunday night over a glass of wine and four episodes in a row of United States of Tara.

My prior attempt at a sweet potato gnocchi this past fall (which culminated in utter FAIL) has already been forgotten and these gnocchi have kindly forgiven me my past mistakes. Thanks guys!

Pita For One, Pita For All

2011-02-21T15:18:00.000-05:00

In my hometown of AZ there’s a nifty chain of local restaurants called Pita Jungle. I love me some Pita Jungle when I go home, mostly because I'm convinced some part of my mongrel self has some Mediterranean or Middle Eastern soul up in here. Also, it's just so good. I like to think that, somewhere out there, there’s a literal jungle full of pita trees, with pita vines, and awesome coconuts that break open to provide fresh tabbouleh, hummus, and baba ghanoush. Oh, it would be my heaven, I can assure you.

So the other day I was thinkin: you know, my G makes homemade parathas and rotis (Indian Pita!) and I've made tortillas (Mexican Pita!) but nothing, really, can compete with original, awesome, PITA when you want to serve it up with some hummus and other Mediterranean/Middle Eastern goodness.

It’s a flatbread! It’s a holder of delicious goodness! It’s It’s It’s…awesome, and you need to see that it’s not hard or scary to make and quite lovely, actually. It’s especially lovely after a long day and all you have is some veggies and maybe a smidge of balsamic white bean dip sitting around, and, suddenly, you have dinner.

Or breakfast in this case, where I whipped up some delicious basil and mozzarella eggs to accompany my new stack of pita.

Dear Pita: Thanks for being so versatile and awesome. I love having you around for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Next time I promise to reunite you with your BFF, tabbouleh and maybe some hummus. We'll have a party. Love, Samantha.

Welcome to the Promised Land

2011-02-09T11:23:00.004-05:00

So round these parts I’m known for my love of pie. Like here and here and here.

But on Monday night I ventured into new territory, so far ruled by the shepherds in the U.K….the land of Shepherd’s Pie.

Let me tell you about this land. It is delicious and cozy. It has little valleys made of mashed potatoes (with goat cheese!) over a sea of lentils and mushrooms, carrots and shallots and peas (with a splash of red wine, of course) and is quite the delicious February dinner. Also, it’s vegetarian, so all of my veggie friends out there will hopefully appreciate what I concocted. But it’s the kind of veggie dish that meat-loving friends would also appreciate. I like bridging the gap between these two worlds.

Mushroom and Lentil Shepherd’s Pie is like the promised land of food dishes (shared by only Thanksgiving Dinner and a few other select winners). Is that going too far? I don't think so. It's where you can eat dinner, linger over a glass of wine, catch up with your friends, and even enjoy a Monday night (of all nights! I hate Mondays!) and come out of it whistling a happy tune with a pledge to return, and soon.

If you can't tell, I really like mashed potatoes.

Also, this week I noticed the sky isn’t pitch-black when I leave work at 6pm, which made my heart soar. I can almost…almost…feel spring out there. Which means lots more produce and lots more food posts and lots more opportunities to eat good food with dear ones.

Risotto, My Friend

2011-01-31T23:59:00.003-05:00

Hello everyone. My name is Samantha, and I have a Risotto Weakness (or should it be addiction? Undying love for? Inclination to always seek out…? BFF-hood with?)

I confess: I have made risotto many-a-times and have yet (yet!) to put any of them upon the pages of this little blog here. I am ashamed.

I have pondered life over a bowl of Risotto al Barolo with crumbled brown sausage (it was gasp-worthy, I promise) as well as a classic risotto with white wine and butter. My mother’s risotto with roast lamb is, truly, swoon-worthy, but finally, FINALLY, I am here to provide you with a solidly good risotto recipe. One that I’ve tweaked a bit and will continue to tweak due to this weakness/addiction/undying love for issue of mine when it comes to risotto. But, I promise, it is a good recipe.

I borrowed this from Fresh 365 Online which is a lovely, sunshine-y, seasonal-inspired site of delicious vegetarian-inclined dishes (the authors of which, of course, got it from Gourmet). And while this Leek and Cauliflower Risotto was very, very good, I propose replacing a half-cup stock with ½ cup white wine in addition to a smattering of more veggies…asparagus? Mushrooms? The options are endless, but that’s what’s so great about this little gem. It's not only good as-is, but would be good with whatever tweaks fit your fancy. It is quite the platform to jump off into adventurous risotto journeys with.

January 2011 has already been an awesome the kick-start for the rest of the year, and I hope your month has been the same. If not, at the very least, this risotto could edge things along a bit.

(Side note: for those who might be confused, this is not a pasta dish, so my promise not to post more pasta is still valid. End note.)

A (Re)Introduction to Pesto

2011-01-26T11:47:00.000-05:00

So most people know pesto as the standard basil, pine nuts, olive oil and parm, right? But there’s this mythical area called Trapani on the island of Sicily that has a different kind of pesto: Trapanese.

I want to go here. Now.
(Courtesy of www.on-sicily.com)

Not to be confused with those whimsical acrobats, trapeze swingers, Pesto Trapanese is delish. I first read an article about it two winters ago in Gourmet and it sounded divine, especially since it reminds you a bit of the fresh taste of summer. Basil, toasted almonds, parmesan cheese and tomatoes? Love at first read, I tell you.

I’ve made Pesto Trapanese off and on for dear ones the past few years, and every time it’s met with rave reviews from vegetarians and non-veggies alike. I usually bust out some whole wheat pasta (goes well with the nuttiness of the pesto. And the nuttiness of me), and have found that a whole box of spaghetti or linguine is just a bit too much… boil it all up if you like but add the pasta a bit at a time and toss everything together to make sure you get all the pesto you want and it doesn’t dry out.

Don’t forget: Too much pasta + not enough pesto = a sad, sad moment for all.

Obviously I’m still on a pasta kick, as it is January and all, and we all know how I feel about carbs, but I promise this will be the last pasta recipe for a while. I foresee some delicious stews and desserts on the horizon. I’ve also been rocking out to this album by Rick James on my new record player (thanks for the awesome Christmas present, fam!) while putzin’ around in the kitchen and it’s been quite the culinary-musical adventure. Hey-o!

New Year, New Brunch

2011-01-12T21:16:00.001-05:00

So here’s an interesting observation.

Winter = cold = fill your belly up with pasta.

Am I the only one that carb-overloads during dark and cold months? Seriously. It’s easy, warm, and there’s always, always leftovers of a bit of plain ole’ boiled pasta to sit in your fridge. They seem like such sad little things, really, that have nowhere to go and nothing to dress up for.

Usually that leftover Tupperware of penne pasta gets tossed out after a week or so…because, seriously. What can you actually do with it? But no longer.

I introduce to you…the weird-sounding but good-tasting Penne Frittata with Ricotta and Basil!

I spotted this originally on Cup of Jo when she had a brunch with the folks over at Sunday Suppers… who in turn borrowed the recipe from a one Ms. Martha Stewart. Quite the route this frittata took to get to me, but it has, indeed, arrived.

I’m a big bruncher. I think I’ve mentioned this before…like here, and here, and here. I’m also a huge fan of frittatas, and am always looking for new ways to approach this favorite of mine. And while pasta in a baked egg dish might sound weird, it doesn’t actually taste weird. Instead, it tastes like cheese and basil and is quite a stunning little dish in its rustic simplicity.

With some crusty bread and salad, this is your new lunch. Or dinner. With some coffee and fresh fruit, it's your new breakfast. The versatility of frittatas is pretty endless, and I’m excited to put to good use those little pasta leftovers that no one seems to want.

So this weekend, when you’re schemin’ for something good for a Saturday late-morning breakfast, and have nothing but some cheese, basil, eggs and a few sad pasta noodles, throw this little doozy together and call it a day. Which is what Martha did, and things seem to be working out pretty well for her.

Patience, the Virtue

2011-01-06T17:19:00.001-05:00

For Christmas, I decided to make Homemade Vanilla for myself, my girl Kari, and my Mom, the fellow bakers in my life. But I forgot the one thing required to turn the simple combination of vodka and a vanilla bean into real, delicious, baker’s vanilla.

Time.

8 weeks, approximately. 8 WEEKS! Considering I didn’t make my bottles of Vanilla till about a week before Christmas, we’ve got some serious time on our hands. This stuff won’t be ready till the very end of February which is practically March. Sheesh. So much for my well-planned homemade goodies, but I’m actually looking forward to the wait. Because good things come to those who wait, to those who have been gifted with that most difficult of virtues, patience. (Or so they say, but I really have no choice in the matter here.)

But in this waiting period, as the vodka is steeping with that one lovely vanilla bean to create something entirely new, things will be happening in my life.

Some things will be great and refreshing, and some things might be hard and stressful, but always, no matter what comes my way, there’ll be a bottle of Vanilla waiting. Waiting to be used in future cookies or cakes, breads and ice creams, and I cannot wait to have this one sure thing finally reach that perfect Vanilla-ness to start exploring with.

Awww...look at Dolly envying the vanilla

So, my anchor of 2011 is a bottle of Vanilla. While I can already tell this will be one amazing year of growth, opportunity, and living, my bottle of Vanilla will also be getting better with age and time. I kind of like having that reminder in my cupboard to think of whenever I feel I might be falling behind in the rat race or if I’m being too impulsive with things.

To the New Year, and to all of your exploits in and out of the kitchen!

And to whatever your bottle of Vanilla may be.

Time To Play

2010-12-31T20:46:00.000-05:00

Guys, Christmas was a hit this year, and we all somehow ended up on Santa's nice list. When I first got home the weather was in the seventies...and yesterday it snowed (snowed!) in Phoenix. More like flurries, but potato-potato, its the same thing.

I've loved all this time off work. Which means, of course, time to play. Play with my friends, play with my parents and brother and sister, and play in the 70 degree sunshine in AZ by playing tag with my dog, Dolly.

From The Vagabond Table

I miss those days of elementary school where the biggest question you had to ask all day was, “Hey, do you wanna come over and play?”

We played in the kitchen a bit too. My Aunt Deb got me and my mom signed copies of Ina Garten’s newest cookbook, Barefoot Contessa: How Easy Was That? I also snagged Good to the Grain: Baking With Whole-Grain Flours by Kim Boyce which I’ve been pining after for months now. 2011, you’re looking to be a very tasty year.

One slower eve of my 12 days of Arizona Christmas we made a Beef and Barley Stew, inspired by, but not totally followed, from Ina’s new book. And honestly, I “helped” by shopping for it, tasting it, and peeking at it while my mom and dad put it together. During this time I also took Dolly for a nice long walk,and returned to find the soup nearly done. So much for my helping in the kitchen, but what I can do rather well is appreciate a hearty, homemade stew.

From The Vagabond Table

And whether you're experiencing snow in DC, Wisconsin, Boston or AZ, this stew has a lovely broth that warms up your bones a bit. Good convo and multiple episodes of 30 Rock seem to cozy you up pretty well, too.

From The Vagabond Table

Tonight's the big welcome of 2011, kids! Be safe, be happy, or just be. Whatever you want since it's your year, and you should start it out how you want to live it.

Cheers!

Samantha

The Family Jewels

2010-12-20T23:55:00.000-05:00

So, I feel like December has wacked me over the head with its busy-ness and hasn’t stopped schooling me all month. Or maybe, November and December are in cahoots to distract me with things like road tripping to Cleveland for Thanksgiving and bussing to NYC to do some serious twinkle-lights appreciation. Seriously! I’ve barely been home, or if I do make it home, I’ve been in a collapsed heap on the couch catching up with United States of Tara and eating things like edamame beans and almonds for dinner.

It makes me feel unbalanced to not be constantly thinking of new blog posts, taking pictures, and squirreling away in my kitchen to concoct something new and fun.

But as my Christmas gift to you, I have a family recipe for one of my favorite holiday cookies that I whipped up for a really fun brunch we hosted recently: Rum Balls of Awesomeness!

From The Vagabond Table

Or, as I like to think: The Ferm Family Jewels. *snerk*.

I think any cookie that takes about ½ hour total to make deserves a prize. Any cookie that tastes this good and incorporates things like walnuts and chocolate and Nilla Wafers deserves First prize. And when they’re balanced with rum and a sprinkling of sugar, well…it’s a GRAND prize for everyone who gets one (or five).

These Rum Balls make an appearance every year in my mom’s epic cookie-baking-whirlwind. She usually bakes 12-14 different KINDS of cookies, of course having 2-3 batches per type, so really an entire part of our pantry is taken over by boxes and tins of the most delicious Christmas cookies you can think of. We laugh in the face of plain old sugar cookies…they are so 1980, I’m afraid. Instead, you should try her pecan tassies (mini pies…bite-sized!) or the ricotta cheese cookies that take the idea of sugar cookies, softens them up real nice, and puts them on steroids. Or the walnut crescents with their fine dusting of confectioner’s sugar, the coconut-chocolate cream cheese bars, the lemon bars, classic fudge, or the brand new chocolate truffle cookies, that, I’m sure, are worth flying across the country for. My mom, in truth, is the best durn Christmas cookie baker in Arizona, if not the country. And I’m one of the lucky few that get these cookies…for 12 days straight…at my fingertips. I promise you more cookies to come, but I think I'll start with Rum Balls.

From The Vagabond Table

This year’s Rum Balls are me attempting to make Mamasan proud by taking the torch and doing the Ferm Family some justice on the East Coast. And, based on their popularity this time around, I’m definitely on the right track.

As an aside, I’m back to AZ starting tomorrow, so there'll be plenty of time to post some goodies on here for the holidays. Much love and hugs to you all!

Givin' Thanks

2010-11-30T14:54:00.000-05:00

You can ask Mom, Dad, or anyone in my family: Thanksgiving is my fave.

From The Vagabond Table

Not to bash on Christmas, but I dig the idea of a holiday whose sole purpose is to bring together a ragtag bunch of family and friends to gather round a table and share some damn good food. Share things they are thankful for. Share turkey and cranberries (has there ever been a better combination of foods?) and maybe not share the stuffing (because that usually gets stuck around me somewhere, and I do NOT share stuffing easily.)

From The Vagabond Table

This year I road-tripped it back to my other home, OH-IO, with my roomie to visit her family in Cleveland because, you see, Cleveland Rocks. And holy bajolies, I love me some Thanksgiving food, especially with my adoptive Albanian family (cheering the Buckeyes on to a victory over Michigan wasn't bad either.)

From The Vagabond Table

This year we made a combo of traditional favorites, new Thanksgiving recipes, and some Albanian dishes. Classic roast turkey with rosemary and sage, cinnamon-orange-cranberry sauce, a pimped out gravy, Pancetta and Chestnut Stuffing with Prunes, Rosemary crackers with white bean dip, Wild Rice and Mushroom dressing, an array of kalamata olives, Tave Tiranse, Moussaka, Spanikopita, salad, and roasted veggies…truly, it was divine.

From The Vagabond Table

And while everyone else in the Midwest was making pumpkin, apple, and pecan pies…I was bucking tradition and making Almond Cheesecake.

From The Vagabond Table

With a crunchy crust made of crushed almonds and Nilla wafers, a whisper of almond in the cheesecake and a sweetened layer of sour cream baked on top…served with a lovely strawberry compote, a slice of this is worthy of kings (or a ragtag group of family and friends).

Also as a side note, today is my two year Blog-iversary! Yay! Dear Vagabond Table Readers… thanks for sharing in these foodie adventures, for your support, and for always being curious about the world beyond your front door. Let’s all celebrate with a slice of Almond Cheesecake as you stick with me for additional recipes and stories. As the Albanians like to cheer: Gezuar!

Go Bananas

2010-11-21T19:49:00.001-05:00

First you peel, banana, peel- peel banana

Then you eat banana, eat-eat banana

Then you GO Bananas! GO-GO Bananas!

I think I sang that song about a thousand times during my years in youth group growing up. In the vans traveling around for volleyball games or Sonora, Mexico to build houses or just to plain ole’ winter camp, that song ping-ponged around the van and made us laugh banana-inspired giggles.

Bananas, I know, are not for everyone. In fact, I know people who absolutely, positively hate bananas. Me? I personally like them, but I do not love them. I especially do not love them in fruit salads where they get brown and slimey. Bleh. But bananas, when combined with other powerful food forces, are pretty damn good. Like with homemade granola on some Greek yogurt, drizzled in honey. Or as Bananas Foster. Or, like in a tried-and-true favorite: Banana Bread.

From The Vagabond Table

Growing up my mom was a pro at things like Zucchini Bread and Banana Bread. The banana bread my mom baked had caramelized nuts and coconut on top, was ridiculously decadent, and after my college days in Ohio (where regular packages of these breads found their way into my little postbox), has seemingly disappeared from my regular staples of food munchies.

But no more.

Alas, while mourning the loss of mom’s coconut banana bread, I happened upon this recipe from Molly’s blog over at Orangette, which was perfect. I had exactly two bananas beyond the point of help in the fridge. I had no walnuts to throw in the batter. I had, in short, everything I needed to make this Cinnamon-Sugar Crusted Banana Bread. I like how when the stars align, I get Banana Bread. Thanks, Universe!

From The Vagabond Table

I substituted half the white sugar in the recipe for brown sugar, which made the loaf much darker than normal banana bread, but even tastier. And, with a nod to the fam back in AZ, I threw a couple of handfuls of grated, sweetened coconut along with the cinnamon-sugar mixture onto the top of the loaf. What I love is the crunch: slice into a piece of this and you are first met with a crispy crust of crackly deliciousness. What lies beneath is a dark and moist crumb, not too banana-y, and mostly just right. Slather some butter on and I might just be in heaven. Or, alternatively, I might be eating this exact breakfast (and post-dinner snack) for a week straight.

It could just be the perfect pre-Thanksgiving breakfast to tide you over until the real show begins.

Get Comfortable

2010-11-15T21:20:00.000-05:00

I just might be in love with November.

I always think of October as Fall, but seeing as how the trees don't really start blushing until Halloween, which is practically the next month over, I'm just going to go out on a limb (preferably draped in yellowed Gingko leaves) and say: My. I DO love November.

From The Vagabond Table

I most especially love these clear, cold, brisk fall nights with a glass of wine, good friends, and a big plate of Zucchini and Mushroom Lasagna. Followed, of course, by multiple games of Up and Down the River, which could possibly be one of the best card games out there that almost no one has heard of. Trust. This game has quickly become a foundation of our little apartment these past few months.

The last time I made lasagna (3 years ago) it was somewhat of a "fail." I had even added bacon to entice my sister to it, but not even bacon could rally her. The layers kind of slid around, making quite a mess, and the bacon and zucchini just didn't mesh with the rest of the layers and overall it was just so-so, which, in my book, is a huge disappointment where pasta is concerned. Pasta is one of those balls-to-the-wall kind of dishes: either go strong, or go home.

From The Vagabond Table

But this time around, SANS RECIPE I might add (!) it worked. Like, really worked. Even my vegetarian-inclined friend (and her not-so-vegetarian-inclined husband) were fans. It was, quite simply, a solid lasagna recipe that I'm fully comfortable around and everyone liked. I think we all need one of those "I don't need to think twice about making this" kind of pasta dishes, especially a cozy, steamy, veggie-filled delicious lasagna one.

From The Vagabond Table

Extra bonus points: this fed three adults (and seconds!) for dinner and me for lunch and dinner several times later that week. Money saver! Belly saver! All around, a savior of sorts. For this lasagna restored unto me my comfort of making dinners without a recipe, which is quite the accomplishment.

Thanks, Mom

2010-10-31T20:34:00.001-04:00

In early October I went back home to AZ for a dear friend’s wedding and some much-needed family time. Each day was sunny, my hammock on the back porch was the perfect getaway, and the evenings were spent around one of two tables: the dining table with steaming plates of Mom’s Spaghetti, or the coffee table playing Apples to Apples.

Going home is just so good for the soul. And my tummy.

Saturday morning before the wedding, my Aunt Deb came over for breakfast. As I’ve mentioned before, Saturday Morning Breakfasts are not a small thing by any means at our house. They are, indeed, a Very Big Thing, and my Mom, God bless her, is the Queen of these breakfasts.

Since I was last home, she has discovered two new breakfasty staples that I’ll not soon forget. In fact, I’ll be pining for them till Christmas Morning Breakfast, since that’s all I’ll be asking Santa for this year. These two things are: a Sausage-Mushroom Breakfast Bake and Ina Garten’s Cheese Danishes.

From The Vagabond Table

Breakfast, my friends, has gone beyond pancakes and French toast.

I love egg-baked-things. How can you not love the versatility of something that’s ideal for breakfast, lunch, or dinner? Especially something made with sausage (yum!) and mushrooms (double-yum!) For the vegetarians out there, just take out the sausage and you’ll still have a hearty dish, worthwhile and filling. It is quite the breakfast casserole.

From The Vagabond Table

Also, Cheese Danishes. I never thought that these could be made at home, but Ina Garten has found a way, and just in time. Better than any cheese danish I’ve had at a bakery, they are warm, light, lemony, and ultra-addictive.

From The Vagabond Table

Breakfast turned out to be a lovely affair in the shade by the pool with everyone catching up over hot cups of my Dad's coffee and plates laden with deliciousness. I am a lucky daughter. Not only to have a mom that throws together such hearty breakfasts for a wayward, DC-based daughter such as myself, but to have a family that continues to gather together during the week to simply eat, talk, and laugh. It’s a ritual as old as time but somehow never seems to get old.

Christmas can’t come soon enough.

The Chocolate Chip Cookie, Revisited

2010-10-25T13:52:00.001-04:00

I have a confession. It’s been a while since I’ve branched into cookies.

The roomie and I make these cookies all the time. They’re easy and taste like pecan pie. They travel well, you see, which is good for all of our friends and families that live in other states, but not good for our palates which, once they find something they like, refuse to try anything else. Palates are a finicky bunch. I’ve found you have to trick them a bit with words like “dark chocolate” and “walnuts” and go from there.

From The Vagabond Table

It’s been a while since this disappointing chocolate chip/oatmeal cookie episode 2 springs ago, and I thought I’d try my hand at a new recipe. One tested by none other than Amanda Hesser herself, the gal behind Recipe Redux, the great New York Times Magazine food blog that takes old-timey recipes and makes them new. (I can’t wait to make my own Worcestershire sauce!) Also, I saw a picture of these cookies from The Essential New York Times Cookbook: Classic Recipes for a New Century by the same Amanda Hesser in my latest Saveur magazine, and, well, sometimes the stars align and you find yourself just totally committed, whether you even realized it or not, to baking new cookies.

The thing is, I think we are sometimes a bit obsessed with BIG. 60 oz. Thirstbusters you can swim in from 7-11. Extra-large value meals. SUVs. All-You-Can-Eat buffets. Bigger, I’m afraid does not always make for better. And these cookies are a rarity to find in the ‘biggest, best’ world we live in.

From The Vagabond Table

For one thing, they’re flat.

Also, they’re small-ish with crispy edges and chewy in the middle. But, you see, they have shaved chocolate throughout the entire batter, in addition to chocolate chunks and some walnut pieces thrown in.

And, bonus points, you can stack them. So fun!

These are just good, solid chocolate chip cookies. They might not be the biggest. But they are a pretty fun take on an old classic, a throwback to some golden era of Grandma’s Cookiedom, one I’m welcoming with open arms and a bear hug because that is ONE thing we can all agree on. Hugs are best when they’re big enough to reach for the world and grab you instead.

Oktober Already

2010-10-16T10:23:00.000-04:00

What is it about Fall that makes room for my (seemingly) infinite amounts of nostalgia?

From The Vagabond Table

Local pumpkin patch

It’s not like I grew up in a place that had a lot of FALL around. Somehow, I lucked out with one gigantor Mulberry tree amongst the saguaros and Palo Verdes in the backyard, that did, indeed, change with the seasons. Beyond that, and some pretty sweet pumpkin carving on newspapers in the carport, Mesa, AZ was a sunshiney place that would be like summer anywhere else. Leaves don’t turn. I guess the birds go away for a bit, but the oranges, lemons, and limes come out and it’s suddenly citrus season. The desert just gets a little browner, a little dryer, and a bit colder.

From The Vagabond Table

Sedona in October

But Fall in DC is something distinct. It is sudden and blusters in with playful winds and rainy days, enlightens you with clear and crisp weekend mornings, and moves you towards mugs of hot somethings, like cocoa or toddies or coffees or chai teas. It’s also the time when it is totally okay to sit and watch four episodes in a row of Mad Men, all curled up in the blanket your mother knit for you before your freshman year of College. And it is breathtakingly stunning, especially when the Gingko trees light up, bright yellow, like legendary warning lights before the dead stop of Winter and big orange pumpkins bring smiles to your face as you hug them close. Fall, it seems, is that strange dichotomy between the absolute best of things and the sad knowledge that all warm and sunny things must come to an end, at least for a while.

It is also the time, (albeit somewhat delayed by my American calendar as opposed to Das German Kalendar!) for Oktoberfest. I honestly can think of no better party than Oktoberfest to celebrate the coziness of Fall with the fun of Summer. To the bountiful Fall and beer and brats! To pretzels and mustard! To Oktoberfest!

From The Vagabond Table

Here are a few recipes for you, if you should so choose to have an Oktoberfest party this Fall. Heck, I’d throw this party any time of the year, because I love good beer, and, now that I know how to make homemade Bratwurst Bites with BEER MUSTARD, it’s totally worth it. You know what else is worth it? Serving this absolutely fantastic Braised Red Cabbage dish alongside a gigantic soft pretzel from Whole Foods.

From The Vagabond Table

Autumn is good, and, while it may make you a bit nostalgic and dreamy, it’s absolutely worth it, especially when you have Brews and Bratwurst Bites and a sweet-tangy Red Cabbage dish to accompany you and your friends. Because I don’t think you can quite enjoy an epic Spring without living through an epic Fall.

Jumping Off the High Dive

2010-09-28T10:51:00.001-04:00

Remember when you were a kid, and during miserably hot summers you went to your local junior high swimming pool and paddled amongst the mothers, their floating toddlers, screaming kids, and sometimes, you got up the gumption to climb up to the diving boards?

There was the “regular” diving board which was bouncy and intimidating enough for any normal person. And then, there was the high dive. It towered. It mocked from on high. It waited. It absolutely, positively, created huge pits of fear that were lodged somewhere between my throat and my intestines, and that fear pounded. In my ears, in my neck, in my heart. Regardless, I’d climb that high-dive every so often. Then I’d dawdle, toeing the edge. I’d look down at all the impatient kids waiting for me. Finally I’d jump off, cannon ball-propelled, and emerge from the diving pool dripping, smarting from the great slap of water on my butt, and bouncing around from the adrenaline rush.

There’s nothing like grabbing that high dive for all its menacing worth and emerge triumphant.

I think there are high-dives in everything. In your career. In your family. In your relationship to your body, your health, your mind, your emotions, your relationships. And, of course, in food. I’ve since overcome my first major high-dive fear of food (Yeast Beasties! Here and Here and Here.) But it was time to take on a new challenge. One I’d been gearing up for all summer. Of course, now that it’s not summer anymore, and I’d toed the edge long enough, I leapt. And, well, making ice cream just isn’t as hard as I thought. Go fig.

From The Vagabond Table

I was lucky enough to steal, er…gift myself…with my mom’s Cuisinart ice cream maker from the garage this past July. Let me tell you, carrying an ice cream maker through airport security in a banana-shaped bag raises a lot of eyebrows and questions, but mostly I got a lot of smiles when I told them what I was hauling around. I mean...everyone loves ice cream.

After searching the internet for the perfect ice cream recipe for some dear friends who came to visit, Annie and Liz (fellow volunteers when we were in Chile about 5 years ago), we found David Lebovitz’s recipe for Salted Butter Caramel Ice Cream. Uh. You might have just zoned out for a hot second after I wrote that. Totally understandable. I did too. Salted? Butter? Caramel? Swoon.

From The Vagabond Table

This was definitely a task that required an extra hand or two to help scrape down bowls and whisk and the like, but it was a fun group project. Also, it turns out my ice cream maker isn’t hard to use at all, so Pumpkin Ice Cream…I’m lookin’ at you this Fall. Also, this caramel ice cream was a dream. That perfect balance of rich, caramel sweetness with the tang of some salt thrown in here and there. It doesn’t hurt that this recipe calls for milk, egg yolks AND heavy cream. Yeah. When I finally approach the high dive, I don’t half-ass anything. I cannonball it for full effect, and this ice cream was the mother of rich, velvety awesomeness.

If you have an ice cream maker gathering dust in your garage… make this ice cream. If you have a friend who has an ice cream maker…do a group thing and make this ice cream. Whatever you do, please: make this ice cream.

Say Hello To Your New Breakfast

2010-09-11T18:06:00.005-04:00

Ya’ll. I hate to break it to you summer-lovers out there, but Fall, indeed, is nearly upon us.

There’s a chilly breeze (7 nights in a row!) and sunny-cloudy days. I dream about drinking coffee, wrapped in a scarf, sitting on a park bench somewhere reading Jane Eyre. Yep. Definitely Fall. Or, at least, the whispers of the beginning of it.

I’ve also discovered, with no small amount of surprise, that while I really really like cooking (and I do!) I looove baking. There’s just something so satisfying about putting some kind of concoction in the oven and having something entirely different come out. Usually something delicious and warm and toasty. It’s kind of like a chemistry experiment, except that you get to eat the results, usually with a coffee in hand, instead of wearing dorky plastic glasses and stupid rubber gloves. I like Baking Science...I just wish they offered that class in high school.

My friends, I have discovered possibly the best bread you could ever bake by yourself. Just to make sure my yeast-prowess wasn’t a fluke the first time around, this past week I baked it for a second time, but this go-round I threw in some wheat flour for good measure. And boy, was it a good measure.

From The Vagabond Table

Originally the recipe was called “Maple White Bread” but since I added wheat, I guess I’ll just be calling it Maple Bread from now on. But don’t be fooled. It isn’t sweet so much as a memory of sweet. It has the essence of maple, the warmth of maple, but not the nearly-over-sweetness of syrup. Does any of this even make sense? All I know, is that for two weeks in a row, I have baked my own loaf of bread. I might even have the recipe memorized at this point. I've shared this toasty goodness with the roomie and with colleagues, and, all around, it was a number one prize winner of a solid loaf of bread.

From The Vagabond Table

The thing is… it’s a GREAT slicing bread. Nice, thick, gorgeous slices of bread, toasted up for breakfast with a slather of butter is perfection. Jam is nice too, but I must say, even after trying this bread with homemade jam and apple butter, I'd take regular ole' butter with this bread any day. Ohhhh good heavens.

From The Vagabond Table

As I contemplate my baker-tendencies, I’ll comfort myself with awesome toasty breakfasts as I watch autumn start to creep in and surprise me with yellow leaves and chilly nights. I hope by now you've conquered your yeast-based fears (like I have!) and can do the same.

For Your Birthday

2010-08-31T19:01:00.005-04:00

I have a birthday cake for you.

From The Vagabond Table

Full warning: it is not a frosting cake (thank god!) It is not a cheesecake. It is not made of carrots or chocolate or strawberries or coconut. Instead, it is made of plums.

From The Vagabond Table

Simply dimpled, lovely, and jewel-toned, it is a cake for any-day or birth-days. It is, ideally, made with end-of-summer plums from the farmer’s market, and is made all the more interesting with a whisper of lemon zest and sour cream in the vanilla batter. It sounds strange, but is quite the find. It is, indeed, quite a cake. And, as my birthday gift to you, I present you the best cake I’ve had all summer, one I’ll probably make again before plum season ends, and one I promise you’ll thank me for, for being both simple and gorgeous at the same time.

From The Vagabond Table

I have some ruminations on my entrance into the grand year known as 28. So I’ll make this simple and sweet, (similar to this cake.)

From The Vagabond Table

We grow older, and, we hope, wiser. I don’t know if I’d ever consider myself wise, except that I have learned a few things during these past 28 years, most of which center around the themes of listening to myself, and being myself, no matter who thinks I’m crazy, or who thinks I’m a nerd and a half.

I’ve learned that risks are best taken with a family to hug you and send you bags of granola, and friends who cheer you along the way. And some killer mixed CD’s that become the soundtrack of it all.

I’ve learned that meals are best shared with a side of jokes and a dessert of thanks.

I’ve learned that a well-made bed is the best kind of bed to crawl into at night.

I’ve learned that there is absolutely nothing more important in this world than surrounding yourself with people you love and who cherish you right back. And that telling them so is a Very Important Thing.

I’ve learned that there is definitely something to the art of doing nothing. To napping beneath a tree. To dipping your fingers into a fountain and taking off your shoes in the park. To watching endless movie marathons and recording the lovely random thoughts that float through your head. To enjoying a perfect bite of cheese, the squeezing of a lemon and the sizzle of butter.

And I have learned that it’s okay to grow, and to change your mind, and to be wrong, and to be right, and to just be. And that the constant adventure and the thrill of what’s next is kind of what makes us tick, what makes us human, what makes us blessed.

So I cheers to you. To remaining true to yourself, but to the constant change. To the loved ones in your life. To another year to celebrate sunshine and clouds, raindrops and snowflakes, fall leaves and new flowers. To stretching yourself completely, and the loveliness of curling back up, newly changed, but always and essentially you. To your birthday, whenever it may be. To you.

From The Vagabond Table

As they say in Albania… Gezuar! Now go bake that cake and celebrate in style.

Summer Break

2010-08-15T11:44:00.008-04:00

To the beach we go.
To the waves and fresh air.
To Dogfish.
To dreaming and talking
To the beach we go.

Ah, to the beach we go!
To the wind in our hair and the sand in our toes
To sleeping deeply and laughing loudly
To salty fresh breezes
and singing out loud
Ah, to the beach we go!

From The Vagabond Table

I recently took a little jaunt down to Rehoboth Beach with my roomie. We stayed at a lovely B&B (1/2 block from the beach! Center of it all! On a magical lane named “Brooklyn!”) This house even had a screened in porch. I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned my obsession of porches, but I have a deep, revered love for them. For playing card games late at night. For rocking on chairs and swinging on hammocks and breakfasting and lunching and dining, I'm pretty sure porches are a favorite of mine from some prior life in the old south.

From The Vagabond Table

It was a grand ol’ time. We threw a mix called “I Heart the 90’s” into our rental car, belted out some Alanis and Pearl Jam and grooved to The Avett Brothers and Chatham County Line. We drove past lots of corn fields and farms and adorable fruit stands with names like “Ma and Pa’s Market.” We went there, and I must say Ma was rather nice, too.

From The Vagabond Table

This was my first trip to the Atlantic coast beaches, my first time dipping my toes into cold water and seeing early morning from the east coast. I’m used to southern California beaches, and while I can’t quite put my finger on it, it was different. And lovely.

From The Vagabond Table

We mulled our lives over some great brews at the Dogfish Head Brewpub and discovered the most amazing Italian Salumeria and Pasticceria at Touch of Italy where we bought dried Italian figs, fresh-made mozzarella, and grilled olives. I also tried a delicious cold Peach Soup (with champagne, nutmeg, and coconut milk, no less!) at a fantastic restaurant called Hobo’s.

It was a good time.

One of my favorite parts was coming back home Sunday evening and rehashing everything over a cherry-tomato, basil, and mozzarella salad with a great new recipe I found for Rosemary Focaccia bread.

From The Vagabond Table

Heaven in my bowl! Heaven in the oven! By heavens, I have been blessed with most-excellent Delaware farm-fresh produce and a wicked Rosemary Focaccia bread recipe to match. Have I suddenly become a baker? Have I lost all fear of yeast (and kneading) doughs? So many tough questions, but they are balanced by easy recipes and lovely summer suppers, and, I think, they are questions that can be left to ponder during colder winter months.

Perfection Weekend

2010-08-01T22:56:00.013-04:00

Someone needs to give me French lessons, because I’m very iffy on how to pronounce this dish, but what I’m not iffy on is how much I love it.

Moules à la marinière (mussels with garlic and white wine) are awesome. They are more than easy to make. They make you feel refined and posh and edgy and talented in the kitchen. They make you want to share wine and stories and play Foodie Fight with friends over an hours-long Saturday evening meal.

From The Vagabond Table

Also, they’re gorgeous.

Courtesy of Lucy

From The Vagabond Table

Lucy was in town, and Roni and I went all-out on the relaxation factor. We had Ethiopian food and drinks at one of our fave bars, The Red Derby, Friday night. Saturday after a late breakfast we laid in a park for hours, sipping on wine while munching on peaches and napping in the shade of a big tree. We went shopping, came home, and Roni made her famous gazpacho with local heirloom tomatoes while I made moules à la marinière with crusty bread and brie and a lovely bottle of white wine. It was, I think, the most relaxed I’ve been in ages.

From The Vagabond Table

Lazing around in Meridian Hill park.

Gazpacho, courtesy of Lucy

Sunday morning we made fruit salad, asparagus-red pepper frittata, and blueberry whole-wheat scones while Stumptown coffee brewed as a big summer storm rolled in.

From The Vagabond Table

Stumptown coffee time

Courtesy of Lucy

This weekend has been more than lovely, with great food, good weather, and fun reunions with peeps I haven’t seen in a while. I’m also convinced I need to move to France for a year and apprentice to a baker and vintner. I see wineries, French wine, baguettes and more moules à la marinière in my future, mon amis!

Cobbled Together

2010-07-24T17:42:00.005-04:00

Traditionally, a cobbler is a shoemaker and sole-repairman, with, I like to imagine, a brown leather apron and a pair of glasses sitting just so on the edge of his nose.

My kind of cobbler, the fruit kind, fixes things too. It fixes the fact that you haven’t had much of a life for a few months straight. It fixes the fact you haven’t seen your family since Christmas. It fixes all the stress by relaxing you with the lovely job of pitting stone fruits, squeezing a lemon, and mixing together a crumbly topping. My kind of a cobbler is the soul-repairman, summer-fruit version.

From The Vagabond Table

For my mom’s birthday, I gave her David Lebovitz’s delicious book, Ready for Dessert, a book that offers everything from pies and cakes to tarts and ice creams. For the past month or so we’ve discussed baking one of his recipes together, and upon my return home, we decided on the Cherry-Almond Cobbler, a relatively simple and delicious-sounding dessert that we chose to serve at a brunch later in the weekend.

You pit a pound of cherries (luckily my mom had a cherry-pitter. Unluckily, I suck at using it and she had to go back through and remove all the seeds that I missed.) You mix sugar and lemon juice with the cherries (with your cherry-juice stained arms), then mix a simple topping of flour, marzipan, butter, milk, and sugar until fluffy and spoon over the cherries. The dish smells heavenly when baking, toasted and almond-y with a ripe layer of summer fruit at its peak.

From The Vagabond Table

This Cherry-Almond Cobbler is easy to assemble, and just as easy to disassemble, as noted by my lack of any photos of an actual serving of it. The whole dish was gone within twenty minutes, so I know I'm not the only one who loves summer-fruit cobblers! The almond topping complimented the cherries perfectly, and really, such a dessert is the only reason you should even turn your oven on in these swelteringly hot days of summer.

From The Vagabond Table

Guys, this cobbler was a hit. And, like I mentioned earlier, it tends to be a fixer-upper of things, and I’m a-hankerin' to keep it around for a while.

My People

2010-07-07T04:43:00.007-04:00

Guys, I’ve been all UP in my Indian-ness recently. My naani should be proud.

Over Memorial Day, I went to NYC where I visited my friend Lucy, who in turn took me to the Alvin Ailey Dance Studo (!) where we took a Masala Bhangra class (!!) from Sarina Jain herself, and proceeded to get the.best.calf.workout.of.my.life. No joke. For like 5 days afterwards my calves groaned and stretched and ached, and by the end of the recovery period, I had somewhat-well-defined calf muscles on my skinny chicken legs! Most importantly, though, I had a blast…it was full of heart. Full of drama and passion and strength. It was so much fun. I felt like I’d directly bonded with my people. Shabad, my 100% Indian friend who I grabbed breakfast with that same weekend, welcomed me into the Bhangra-loving-Indian-fold. It was a good weekend.

I’d like to note I haven’t made Indian food since the Vegetable Pulau episode which kicked off this whole blog a year and a half ago. It’s so strange. I’ll delve into Vietnamese, South American, Mexican, Italian, German…but I’m nervous to cook anything Indian. It's almost as if I can’t cook it, because it won’t ever be like home. Does that even make sense? Either way, my trusty roomie Roni was pushing me to make something Indian recently and I finally said okay then.

From The Vagabond Table

I searched all day online for something simple, vegetarian, and Indian. I couldn’t remember my G-ma ever making Chole Palak (Chickpeas and Spinach) so I didn’t feel too nervous. I even decided to make Parathas (minus, of course, the right kind of atta or flour my naani uses, but a girl has to make do with what she and the Whole Foods has, you know.)

From The Vagabond Table

So I came home and I made Indian food. My parathas were wheatier and heavier than my G-Ma’s, but that’s okay. They still tasted good. The Chole Palak was delicious and did what any good Indian dish does…makes your clothes and kitchen smell like spice for 2 days straight. It was a tiny personal triumph, and while a small thing, it was a big thing.

Sorry I've been gone for a minute...a work conference I've been helping to plan for the better part of a year just finished in San Antonio (great city!) and I'm resting for a few days in Phoenix before heading back. Joy to being home with my people, and more recipes to follow.

Rosemary, Revisited

2010-06-30T22:10:00.003-04:00

It’s hot. So hot, but while it might be as hot as the devil outside, these cookies are cool. Like, cool. Interesting. Kind of British in my mind, for some reason. I want to serve them with lavender Darjeeling tea and talk about Wimbledon and herb gardens while overlooking a hedge of roses.

I love the idea of surprising combos in food… like herbs in cookies (brilliant!) My friend Maria from work gave me a baggie full of fresh rosemary from her garden last week, and I’ve tried to get as creative as possible with the bunch. It makes me want to kick myself for all the rosemary bushes that I haven’t taken full advantage of in my life (in AZ they’re used as landscaping… so common! So accessible! So…far away from DC.)

From The Vagabond Table

So. Rosemary Shortbread Cookies. A) of all, I’ve been wanting to make shortbread cookies for a while now; B) of all, I had this fresh bunch of rosemary just itching to be used creatively, and C) It was Sunday, and there is absolutely no better day to bake cookies. So, I combined all of these factors and figured that A + B + C actually equals Rosemary Shortbread Cookies! (NOT, how you might figure, ABC, which is all those letters added together, technically. I’ll show you how I did this fine math some other time.)

From The Vagabond Table

These cookies are pretty darn easy and kind of fun when you get to break them apart. They’re crumbly. They’re buttery. They’re not too sugary, and have a nice under-hint of rosemary that makes them slightly floral rather than overpowering. I got good reviews from people, even friends who don’t even like cookies! This is progress, people.

Herbs in cookies? What’s next? Chocolate on enchiladas? Oh wait. I think that’s called mole, and is totally on my to-make list this summer. Yay for crazy-good food combos, and for cookies that make you pretend to be British for an afternoon. Cheerio, old chaps.

Party Time, Excellent

2010-06-02T22:56:00.004-04:00

I am prone to a deep love for popcorn, especially the buttery movie-theater kind, but I was never one for caramel corn. Too-sweet, predictable…bleh. Give me salt over sugar any day, and I will reward you with a smile and kindly ask you for a glass of water, because I am most likely dehydrated.

When I was a kid I’d sneak past my G-ma during the “nap time” portion of the afternoon, and while she was resting I’d be hauling myself onto the kitchen counter, reaching for that grail of the home kitchen, the Morton salt container,and I would pour myself a little mound of salt in my left palm eating it a bit at a time. Basically, I was like a human deer and that Morton container was my own personal salt-lick. Weird, gross, I know. But like I’ve mentioned before: I’m a salty type of gal, and sickly-sweet caramel corn just didn’t cut it.

From The Vagabond Table

So. Fast forward to a few weeks ago, and the epic LOST finale that I still can’t decide if I loved or felt cheated about, and I needed a party munchie for my faithful Losties. At some point in the last few months, the idea of a good, homemade caramel corn had been planted deep in my brain, and nothing but actually making it would get it out. I found this recipe through Orangette, and it sounded perfect. Brown-sugar caramel? With homemade popcorn in my new stovetop popcorn maker my aunt shipped over last week? With a healthy sprinkling of salted/roasted peanuts? Yes please!

From The Vagabond Table

I might not have been one for caramel corn in the past, but I am now. Homemade caramel corn is sweet in a rich and buttery way, and perfectly balanced out with the peanuts and an extra sprinkling of salt. It is crispy and crunchy and perfect for a party (or a LOST series finale), and makes for most-excellent munchies at any time, really.

From The Vagabond Table

Better watch out though. This caramel corn goes fast so you better have back-up snacks available. And multiple glasses of water for kids like me who love the salty and the sweet.

Bringin' Baking Back

2010-05-12T23:50:00.006-04:00

You know that lovely, apartment-warming, hug-your-face smell of freshly baked bread? Not a quick bread like pumpkin or zucchini or banana (all good though!) but a straight-up crackly-crusted loaf of hearty delicious bread?

Yeah, well, I didn’t either because I know like 2 people who bake bread at home, and it’s more of a mythical connection, the kind that’s practically an urban legend these days. “You know my friend Susie? Well she says her friend Ben’s cousin has an older sister in Vermont somewhere that bakes bread every week.” Oh really. Sure she does.

I feel like homemade bread-baking has gone the way of unicorns and mermaids. Every once in a while you hear that so-and-so has seen one, the news gets a hold of it, everyone gets all excited and then poof. They are gone, back into the mythical realm from which they came. I feel like the art of baking bread has become a mystical tale from the dark ages, where baking was a trade and the French made it an art form. Of course they did. They’re French, and everything, from cheese to wine to bread is a thing to create with dedication and pride. I love the French.

Well, I’m a modern day gal with an aversion to baking with yeast, since yeast intimidates me and freaks me out just a little bit and is finicky and and and…

I was restless in the kitchen and needed to do something creative and artsy and pride-inducing with food, apparently needing to embrace my mythical Medieval self and whatnot, and nothing came to mind except baking a loaf of crusty bread, something on my list of “Things To Make In 2010.”

From The Vagabond Table

In prior No-Knead breads I’ve tried, I always thought they lacked a bit of salt. What can I say? I’m a salty type of gal. Anyhoo, this recipe is ALL over the internet, any blogger worth their salt (ha!) has made this, cooed about it, loved it, and praised it to the moon and back and, after trying my own hand at it, I must say that I have to echo their sentiments of high praise.

From The Vagabond Table

You’re supposed to let it rise overnight, and then rise some more the next day… I let it rise for a full 19.5 hours. !!! I kind of left it a bit longer than recommended (12-18 hours) but I was busy and it was a Sunday, you see. If anything, I think it made it even better with an almost sourdough-like flavor. I also used a sprinkling of cornmeal which I adore on baked items and upped the salt a bit. Friends, this bread not only made my apartment smell as delicious as it tasted, but lasted me the better part of a week in breakfast provisions. Score.

From The Vagabond Table

My only gripe is that by the time I got to actually baking it, it was time to go to bed and that best first-pulled-out-of-the-oven crackly slice of bread was a short-lived wonder. Next time I won’t wait 19.5 hours and edge closer to 15 so I can have at least 3 slices. Side note: Impressing your friends has never been easier… or more time consuming, but I’m focusing on the easy part of this recipe.

Wishful Thinking

2010-04-19T00:21:00.011-04:00

When I was a kid, whenever I wished on a shooting star, I wished for one thing and one thing only: a barrel of strawberries. A wooden, curved, at least 5 foot tall BARREL of sweet, red-juice-dripping-down-your-chin-perfection strawberries. Looking back now, it seems crazy and also maybe the coolest wish ever, and I’m proud of my seven-year-old self for choosing berries over something as silly as a boyfriend or a pony (although I did ask Santa for a pony once, but at least my berry-wishes far outweighed my pony-wishes.)

To put it mildly, you could say I have a thing for berries. As an adult, that love has reached out and grabbed the entire berry family to include blueberries, cranberries, raspberries, blackberries… le sigh. Seriously. You can’t get more perfect than a warm, sun-ripened blackberry. You just can’t.

Unfortunately we’re not quite into full-frontal berry season assault yet, but for those weeks when you have something to celebrate (like the recent Desmond-centric LOST episode, when I made the pie) or something to be sad over, or something to miss or something to love, pie fits all of those needs. Pie accompanies those happy moments and pie also fills up those holes in the sad moments. Especially pies that remind you of summer, like this Double-Berry Pie. Strawberries and blackberries… crunchy topping…oh baby, oh baby.

From The Vagabond Table

Unfortunately, I forgot my camera while this pie baked at a friend’s house, and he was kind enough to take a few pics pre-baking of said pie for me on his iphone. I have no post-pie pictures, mostly because there wasn’t much post-pie to speak of. We were a bit too eager to let the pie cool down and set, so what I served resembled more of a berry-crumble with crunchy-topping rather than a pie, but that’s neither here nor there. The taste was yummy and so berry-y that it made me forget it wasn’t quite summer yet.

From The Vagabond Table

Finally...you know, baking pies is not only therapeutic, it also makes for a most excellent song by one most radical songstress… I now present to you Miss Patty Griffin for your listening pleasure. (Be sure to take a listen, I can’t believe I went this far into my adult life without having listened to her until only the last few months or so.) Hello musical soulmate!

You Never Know

2010-03-30T19:40:00.007-04:00

Growing up, to put it nicely, I wasn’t much of a lentil person. My G-ma would make homemade daals, and I’d turn my nose up at them, or, more likely, it was the only thing to eat and I had to gulp it down as quickly as possible.

Lentils were just kind of boring. I couldn’t tell if they were a bean or not, (Truth? I still don’t really know what they are) but it was hard to register them in my head as anything good or worth liking. Then, it so happens, I grew up on some level and within the last year have actually started liking (!) and making (!!) lentil soup.

From The Vagabond Table

Yesterday, on a whim, I looked up the always-delicious blog Fresh 365, and saw a recipe for Warm Lentil Salad. I mean…it looked good. I just wasn’t craving to make it. At all. Nevertheless, I knew my roomie would like it, sent her the link, and off we went on a lentil-salad-crash-course. And friends, it was an easy ride, SO easy to make, in fact, that I almost didn’t believe it. Healthy, too. More importantly, it packed a certain “wow” factor that I wasn’t expecting at all, neither was Roni, and when we were munching away while watching The Time Traveler’s Wife (btw, movie was ok, book SO much better!), we had that “this is totally going into the permanent recipe” collection kind of lightning bolt. Yay us!

From The Vagabond Table

Lentils during Lent! My punny-ness is epic.

I love things that surprise you, that unbalance you, that force you to look at things in a new way. It could be a person you meet, a new activity, a book or, in this case, it could be as humble as a lentil salad….you just never know.

Springly Morning

2010-03-14T19:25:00.010-04:00

Sometimes I’m just a hot mess. Or, a hot tamasha as my G-ma likes to say.

I really don’t have much of an excuse as to why I haven’t been posting here, except for the fact that I just haven’t been cooking as much, winter blues and blahs kind of snuck up on me, I lost my camera for a few weeks, and I had a whole post ready to go last week, when I realized I’d accidentally deleted the photos of said post at some point or other…. Yes. Like I said… sometimes I’m a hot tamasha.

No more! Spring is here!

I had a lovely day away from DC yesterday with Roni and some new gal pals, Catherine and Nikki, and we ventured to Harrisonburg, VA, home of James Madison University, great views of the Shenandoah Valley, and a few dudes from Old Crow Medicine Show (le sigh).

From Winter and Everything After

Basically we just ate and slept and talked and ate and read some books and ate some more, and, on the way home, Nikki’s lovely mother-in-law, Elsie, gave us some homemade strawberry jam to take with us. Oh, how the heavens sometimes open up and deliver a bit of summer in a jar!

Needless to say, I couldn’t wait to try it and nothing but fresh scones would do. I woke up this morning, turned to Alice Waters’ trusty tome, The Art of Simple Food, and found a perfectly scone-y scone recipe, simple, delicious, and perfect…perfect for the jam.

From The Vagabond Table

It’s a drizzly Sunday, with chilly early-spring rain that nudges you to stay indoors, listen to some Josh Ritter, and whip up some Apricot Scones. Scones that don’t actually take all that long to throw together, scones that bake in seventeen minutes, and scones that are rather chummy with hot coffee and, of course, strawberry jam.

From The Vagabond Table

Also, scones apparently originated in Scotland, so all morning I’ve been muttering things with a horrific Scottish accent, like “Oh-ho, there! I’ve got a wee-bit of jam to munch on these lovely Scones with!” and “Aye, it’s a bit o’drudgery out there, to be sure. But I’ve got this Scone, a spot of coffee, and I’m rarin’ to-go!”

From The Vagabond Table

…..like I said. I might be a hot tamasha, but at least I’m armed with a solid scone recipe, and that’s not bad. Not bad a’tall.

Cuba Libre- Parte 2

2010-01-24T14:25:00.013-05:00

I’ve created a new life philosophy for 2010, and it has to do with adventure.

Instead of writing a list of all the resolutions and then being disappointed when I never complete it, I decided to have 1,005 adventures instead. The adventures can be anything… walking a new way to work. Being spontaneous and grabbing a drink with a friend you haven’t seen in ages. Exploring new corners of the city. It could be a million things…it’s all in the way you look at it, and how many adventure points you want to give to something. Here’s a sample of my scale:

Finally taking advantage of restaurant week: 1 point
Road trip to the coast: 2 points
Sky Diving: 10 points (at least!)

It’s a simple formula to look at the opportunity in every day for adventure, and I’m going to carry it through the whole year, my hope being that I’ll blow 1,005 points out of the water and have the best year yet. It’s gonna be good, kids.

The first adventure points I earned for 2010 technically happened in 2009 on New Years Eve, but that’s neither here nor there. Lets all hearken back to the…ahem… dinner of Cuba Libre Parte 1 over a year ago. And how only 1 out of 4 dishes worked, and to cope with our kitchen screw-ups, Terra and I got tipsy from multiple pitchers of Mojitos. Well now. It was high time to redeem ourselves (thanks to the recipes of Terra’s Mom), and boy did we ever. Success was ours! 3 adventure points in total!

From The Vagabond Table

Basmati Rice and Black Beans... a sublime meshing of cultures

Around 2pm, Terra and I started chopping, and I noticed again that nearly every dish was full of green peppers and onions and oregano, apparently the trifecta of Cuban food flavor perfection. We decided to prepare the black beans in a pressure cooker from which I ran away like a scared little girl at least 3 times. I’ve never used one, and man, that thing spits and whistles at you like a banshee. My mom’s words kept echoing in my head: DO NOT REMOVE THE WEIGHT AT THE TOP OF THE POT OR YOU WILL POKE AN EYE OUT but it looked like it was going crazy all by itself, and I was not about to have my eye rocketed out by a stupid pressure cooker on NYE of all nights.

Good news, though. My eye was NOT popped out, the beans were awesome, and ***newsflash*** I’m a huge wimp. But not any more because now I understand the pressure cooker and am not scared anymore and there you have it. Triumph! That alone counted for at least 1 adventure point.

From The Vagabond Table

Success! Post-taming of the pressure cooker beast.

We simmered the Ropa Vieja for hours until it was fork tender and shredded easily. The flavor was deep and layered, with a slight tang from the tomatoes and vinegar and a lovely richness from the splash of red wine we added at the end.

From The Vagabond Table

Doesn't look like much now, but hooo-eee, it's yummy.

The yellow (beer!) rice was came together well too, and was at least 20 times better than the rice last time we tried making it. Plus, I heart beans and rice and you can eat them for days. Days. In these lovely economic times, this meal is a winner, folks.

From The Vagabond Table

All four burners were being used...cause we don't mess around.

And finally, the Platanos. They were perfection: We bought ripe plantains a few days before the Cuban Food Showdown, lightly fried them in coconut oil, sprinkled them with salt, and they were heavenly. Crispy on the outside, sweet and soft on the inside with a hint of salt, the plantains were a solid winner as well. And, when the beans, yellow rice, ropa vieja and platanos came together on a single plate, it was Cuban Food Perfection.

From The Vagabond Table

Hi. My name is Samantha, I’m a plantain addict, and I’m not afraid to admit it.

Oh, and I still know how to make a good Mojito which everyone appreciated.

From The Vagabond Table

It put 2010 off to a good start, and really set the stage for more festive…festivities...later that night. Like my team winning Flip Cup six times in a row or playing multiple rounds of SPOONS (where thankfully no one was injured by my sister’s tackles). In short, our little culinary triumph started NYE off perfectly, earned me 3 adventure points, and really, you couldn’t ask for a better start to a New Year.

From The Vagabond Table

The NYE blue plate special.

* * * *

*As a very important note, the recovery efforts in Haiti need all the help they can get. Learn more about Partners In Health, and the work they’re doing to heal Haitians all over the country from the massive earthquakes and aftershocks these past few weeks.

Welcome Home

2010-01-07T23:46:00.007-05:00

Over Christmas and New Year’s I flew home with my ever-trusty sidekick in tow, Roni, and we sailed from snow drifts to sunshine. My parents citrus trees had gigantor grapefruits hanging from them, and besides a brief adventure to go see the Nutcracker, the fam pretty much stuck around the house for the entire break and ate some of the 12 different kinds of cookies my Mom made, partook in Christmas Ales, sampled my Dad’s new Butternut Squash Soup with Gruyere Croutons, my G-ma’s stuffed brinjol (eggplant) and rice, prime rib and twice-baked potatoes, my Mom’s lamb risotto, and a whole host of other things that I was lucky enough to try. Sniff. I miss you family! And all of the good meals you gave me!

Every day was a challenge to see exactly how much coffee, beer, and wine I could drink, while balancing out all the holiday libations with some serious food. Home Food. And that kind of food ain’t light and fluffy, kids. It’s soul food, the kind of food that comforts you all the livelong day and rocks you to sleep at night.

From The Vagabond Table

It was the most relaxed I’ve felt in ages, and I’m excited to present the kind of dish that captures that feeling and also goes well with big dinners or small, the kind you can throw together after a long day at work (which I did on Monday. Which was no small feat considering the first day of work after a long vacation is, indeed, the longest day ever.) I even had it for lunch the next day and re-heated it for my friend Teresa that night alongside some Poached-Egg Salads for the two of us to munch on and catch up over.

From The Vagabond Table

This Sweet Potato Gratin is heavenly. I’m a big fan of sweet potatoes, and these ones are thinly sliced and layered with sautéed spinach, onion, and garlic. All this is cozily tucked between Parmesan cheese and creamy Bechamel sauce. Oh friends—2010 is here, and this is just the dish to ease you out of 2009 and keep you warm in these ARCTIC FRIGID WINDS that we are so lucky to be experiencing here on the east side. Sweet Potato Gratin is warm, cozy, and it makes you invite friends over to share the wealth.

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I’m convinced 2010 is going to be the year of Adventure. I’ll let you into my 2010 Life Philosophy on the next post (nothing like keeping you on your toes!) And while Sweet Potato Gratin might not be the most exotic or exciting dish you’ll ever try, it’s a solid and sinfully good choice for these chilly days, and really…when is cooking ever not an adventure?

From The Vagabond Table

Another Year Over

2009-12-31T15:01:00.003-05:00

From new year, new food

So I have no idea where the last 365 days went, but I'm eager to find them (they're probably hiding in a box in my closet somewhere) and thank them for being quite the time of learning, laughter, and food. Sometimes 2009 kind of sucked, and sometimes it was great, but overall, it was quite a ride.

No, I won't be hitting up any major parties, nor will I be trekking off for a night of debauchery in Times Square this New Years Eve. I'm actually off to make some Cuban food with my friend Terra (YES I'll be posting about it. Wahoo!) and to spend the evening with friends and family, enjoying a few drinks while playing a particularly vicious game of SPOONS. You heard me right. I don't mess around when it comes to playing SPOONS, and neither does my sister, as evidenced by her military-like tackles whenever we play.

Let me leave you with one of my favorite quotes that might do you well in 2010. These words always help focus and encourage me when that whole "What the heck do I want to do with my life?!" question looms a little too large, which, coincidentally, seems to come up every year around this time.

"To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to win the approbation of honest citizens and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to give of one's self; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; to have played and laughed with enthusiasm and sing with exultation; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived---this is to have succeeded."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Be safe, Happy New Years and see you in 2010!

Snow Day Pancakes

2009-12-21T13:42:00.005-05:00

Winter, my friends, is upon us.

From new year, new food

Oh hai, winter wonderland!

This year the snows, wind, and cold snuck in quickly and softly, and before we knew it, it had snowed for about 28 hours straight, the entire city shut down, and people burrowed themselves inside, mugs of chocolate in hand, a weekend of hibernation right before Christmas.

From new year, new food

Yes, that is snow built up on our sixth floor window... and no, we don't have a windowsill.

The weekend forecast actually predicted a THUNDERSNOW. What the heck is a THUNDERSNOW you ask? It’s a snowstorm that actually thunders…the gods apparently like bowling in the winter as well as the summer. I’m a bit disappointed I didn’t hear much of any thundering…I was looking forward to surviving a real life THUNDERSNOW and telling future grandchildren about the GREAT THUNDERSNOW OF 2009. And yes, I have to capitalize all of that, because how can you write THUNDERSNOW and not capitalize such an awesome term? Impossible, my dears.

One of the main reasons I love the idea of winter hibernation is the return of the Big Breakfast. Saturday mornings in my home consisted of pancakes, French toast, or waffles (with the occasional appearance of crepes and fresh strawberries thrown in if we were really lucky), bacon or sausage, eggs, toast, freshly ground and brewed coffee, and orange juice. My mom and dad just did not mess around when it came to Saturday morning breakfasts. It was the time we all got together before the weekend dragged us to different appointments, parties, errands and naps, the hour where we could reconnect in the quiet of the morning before the real world banged through the door and demanded our attention. We chatted over the newspaper, movies and books that were coming out, current events and the weather. We discussed our work weeks, our dreams from the night before, and told jokes. We had a lot of dinners together during the week as well, but the Saturday Morning Breakfasts were slow and delicious, luxurious and cozy.

From new year, new food

I’m pretty sure more than a few people busted out a Big Breakfast this weekend when there was nothing to do but stay inside or shovel sidewalks. I’m also fairly confident more than a few of those people indulged in pancakes, and while I KNOW everyone has a favorite family pancake recipe, I’ve stumbled upon a pretty solid recipe that has become my go-to for hotcakes.

I love Ruth Reichl. Former editor of Gourmet magazine, she’s incredibly passionate about food and people, and those two worlds culminate in her memoir, Tender At The Bone, which referenced, at least once, the making of pancakes and the tradition of Big Breakfasts. “Ruth’s Pancakes,” which I borrowed from The Gourmet Cookbook, are buttery, hearty, and slightly sinful, the perfect pancake in my mind. Not too sweet, they are delicious with maple syrup, chocolate chips, blueberries, or fresh strawberries, and are a snap to whip up.

From new year, new food

I recently made them when a good friend of mine came for the weekend, a friend whose birthday I’m always exactly 2 days late in wishing him for, and who I also haven’t seen in 3 years. I figured the least I could do was make Ruth’s Pancakes for him, and by jove, I think they redeemed my bad birthday memory AND established the fact that I can, indeed, cook a Big Breakfast. Joy!

From new year, new food

Safe travels to all of your holiday destinations! I hope you get a chance to make these pancakes and have a lazy morning with your loved ones in the midst of Christmas shenanigans. I myself am traveling back to Arizona with Erjona for a fabulous holiday time we’re nicknaming FERMAPALOOZA 2009. Again, another word you can’t write without all-capsing it…you know how I do.

A Very Merry Birthday

2009-11-30T23:55:00.009-05:00

Happy one year Blog-iversary, Vagabond Table! It's been real. Real fun, real challenging, and mostly a real kick in the pants.

And, to everyone who has read this, thank you thank you thank you.

Oh look! My 1 year old birthday pie, courtesy of Gourmet: Cranberry Apple Crumble Pie.

From new year, new food

Which basically means, cranberries-that-dye-my-whole-apple-pie-red-with-awesome-pecan-streusel-topping.

From new year, new food

Yeah, yeah, I know, another pie. But guess what. Christmas is coming, and this pie is gorgeous. I made it for the second time for Thanksgiving, and it turned out a little tart since I used Granny Smith and Pink Lady apples... ah well. I for one like sour-ish things, but I suggest you go for a mixture of sweet apples with a few sour ones thrown in as the cranberries do a brilliant job of balancing out the sweetness with their own tarty selves. Oh, and note to all: 'Tis wonderful served with a scoop of Vanilla Bean ice cream. Did you notice my attempt at Fall "leaves" on the sides of the pie? Oh yes. I went there.

Hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving folks! Thanks for sticking with me this far, and I promise that great things are to come in the next 52 weeks.

As American As...

2009-11-09T21:09:00.009-05:00

There is a simple equation that I have concerning Fall.

It goes like this.

Fall = Chilly.

Thus: Chilly + Leaves Falling = Beautiful / (Boots + Sweaters)

SO BASICALLY (in case my mad math skillz got you confused)…

Fall = Chilly = Beautiful = Samantha Busts Out Warm Things

Here is my list of current comfy things that I’ve loved reintroducing myself to again after months away:

A green knit blanket my Mama made eons ago
Fuzzy Socks
Saturday Morning Coffee
Wellie Boots
Scarves
Red wine
Sweet Potatoes
Roasted Cauliflower
PIE.

From new year, new food

Oh, Pie…Doesn’t it just sound great? Short, but sweet and to the point, Pie doesn’t get all fancy with multiple whipped creams and special flours like cakes do. No, sirree bob. Pie is homey. Pie makes you want to wrap your arms around it and hug it back, ‘cause that’s basically what it does: hugs you from the inside out.

You know, if Marie Antoinette had instead opted for saying, “Let them eat PIE!” people wouldn’t have gotten so miffed. Like I said, cake is kind of prissy, and the French took that whole cake-reference pretty badly when she brought it up. But let’s think what would have happened if she had gone with PIE instead? I think the peasantry would have been like “Huh. You’re right… I got a few old apples and a cup of flour lying around… Pie is good. We can do Pie. Thanks for the tip, Marie!” and a whole load of trouble could have been avoided.

From new year, new food

If you had trouble following where I was going here, I just want to let you know that I’ve baked a couple of pies in the last few weeks, both of which were awesome, both of which used apples, but for now I’m going to focus on the one I just baked, Apple Pie with Cheddar Crust, because I’m pretty sure this isn’t a common type of apple pie, and HELLO it introduced me in a roundabout way to an apparently very American tradition that I was out of the loop on: a slice of apple pie with a crumbly hunk of cheddar cheese.

*Side note: So...I guess people all over the country eat this? I don’t get it, so someone, at some point, will have to show me how to do this. What do you do? Grate some on top? Put a slice on the side? Is the pie hot or cold? I get apples and cheese, but I honestly would very much like to have someone explain to me how this works, and I will gladly follow because I’m uber curious how that hot mess would taste. End note*

From new year, new food

Gourmet (may you R.I.P., dear magazine) had a great article in their amazing September issue about Apple Pie with a Cheddar Crust, a clever take on this tradition. Kari baked one last week and added cloves to hers, so when Vanessa came over after a long day at work last week, we figured some cinnamon and nutmeg wouldn’t hurt, and neither would a small decrease in the sugar, and everything STILL worked out swimmingly! I have half of a pie sitting in my fridge which I spontaneously eat for either breakfast, tea time, or dessert, all of which are good pie-eating times. Especially when that day is Saturday and you have all the pie-eating time in the world.

From new year, new food

The crust was on the crispy-buttery side and reminded me of the flavor of a good cheese cracker while the apples were bright, tangy, and perfectly balanced in their sweetness. In short, it is a lovely, warm, comforting and completely Fall-y type of pie that would be a sweet addition to the marathon of all of my favorite comfort foods in one sitting: THANKSGIVING!!!

If anything, next time I’ll just add more cheese because this time I had cut off a big hunk for lunch earlier in the day and deprived my new pie of even more cheese-awesomeness in the crust.

Dear Apple Pie with Cheddar Crust: please don’t be mad, I won’t let you down again… it’s just that I really love sharp cheddar and couldn’t help myself from stealing a bit from you. Uh… I’ll try not to do it again. Toodles.

Spanish Reverie

2009-11-01T18:30:00.007-05:00

Here's a little poem that's pretty obvious I just whipped up for you guys:

Ode to the Other Tortilla

It must be hard
To be a Tortilla Española.
People confuse you
with the kind made of lard-
like tortilla chips
served with tacos and a cola.

I’m sorry
For your identity crisis.

Oh, the humble yet deliciously satisfying Tortilla Española!

I know that it was only a few months ago that I was waxing poetic about these Flour Tortillas I had made, and trust me, you wont find a bigger fan of homemade tortillas east of the Mississippi. BUT I honestly can’t count the times I relied on the other tortilla - Tortilla Española, that is, and dios mio, is it a classic.

I first encountered this simple dish when I studied in Spain during the Spring of 2002. From the first day I arrived in Madrid (and immediately after Carlos, our program director, gave us dish suggestions to order at restaurants that first afternoon), the Tortilla Española was the one constant food that I returned to time and again. It was my first introduction to Spanish cuisine, and though humble compared to the glories of a good paella or gazpacho, its simplicity and adaptability made it perfect for everything from breakfast, lunch or dinner, to party food and a great sandwich.

From new year, new food

The best Tortilla Española I ever tried was in the small and crowded kitchen of our Spanish cooking instructor one chilly spring evening. About 10 of us students were gathered around the stove and watched in awe as she chopped, sautéed, and cooked, with a joie de vivre that pretty much lent her the title of the Spanish Julia Child in my mind. To this day, no Tortilla Española has ever compared to the one from that cozy Spanish kitchen, but darn it all if I’m not going to at least try to come close.

From new year, new food

Tortilla Española is a simple concept: basically it’s a Spanish egg frittata, filled with sautéed onions and potatoes, and can be served by itself in big slices, cubed up as a party appetizer, or, my second favorite way of eating it—tucked between two toasty sides of a baguette, a hearty sandwich that I ordered whenever I used to travel in Spain and was in need a good snack.

From new year, new food

Up close and blurrily personal

I love making frittatas for brunches and breakfasts, but for some reason had never tried my hand at my beloved Tortilla Española, but knew, as soon as my cast iron skillet arrived, that I’d found the perfect dish in which to cook it. If you don’t have a cast iron skillet, simply take any skillet pan that you have, wrap the handle in a damp towel, and you can bake it in the oven, easy as pie. Easier, actually, than pie, but that’s neither here nor there. It’s also group-friendly (as evidenced by three friends that spontaneously came over the night I happened to make it, and who gave it a warm reception).

From new year, new food

Bienvenidos a los Estados Unidos, Tortilla Española! I hope I can perfect you and spread your Spanish love everywhere I go. Kind of like Johnny Appleseed and his apples, but more like Samantha Tortilla…which just doesn’t have the same ring to it, but you see where I’m going here.

The Tale of the Never-Ending Sticky Bun

2009-10-18T22:37:00.005-04:00

So something great has happened.

I am now the proud owner of a 12” cast iron skillet!!

Joy of joys. I’m sure this sounds silly, but I’ve been looking forward to this day for quite a while. You can use cast iron skillets on the stovetop, in the oven, even on a campfire or grill (endless possibilities abound!) It makes me feel extremely old-school--I’m pretty sure people were even using cast iron thousands of years ago (let’s hearken back to the Iron Age, shall we?) So really, I’m just continuing a classical cookery tradition, you see.

To celebrate New Awesome Skillet, I bought The Cast Iron Skillet Cookbook which is chocker-bock full of breakfasty things I love like frittatas, scones and such. And, while they’re relatively still hot and fresh in my memory and stomach—Pecan Sticky Buns.

From new year, new food

I also need to preface this story by mentioning how I have horrid luck using yeast in breads. I never think it rises right, if at all, and dang if those yeasty little buggers aren’t extremely picky and finicky and they only like things at just so temperatures, humidity, etc. Ugh. I really have no patience for something that is so not easy to work with. I really don’t. So, to say that I am attempting my first Pecan Sticky Buns is one thing, but when I’m attempting them AND having to use yeast AND what happens later in my story seems to be the usual when it comes to me and stupid yeast-things, then it's quite a surprise and shock to me that these buns even worked out at all. Hot damn!

However…I frequently force myself to do things that make me nervous, and folks: yeast has been a constant source of nerves for me. When I want to bake, I make things that do not require yeast, like banana bread or cookies. I avoid yeast. It’s stupid, I hate it, and, above all, it concerns chemistry (me + high school chem = not good memories), and it’s a mysterious part of the food process that I just don’t understand and since I don’t understand it, I don’t like cooking with it. You know? But it was the beginning of October and I was having a Fall Day with my friend Lina and we decided to make some Pecan Sticky Buns while having brunch at Open City and dang it all—it was time to conquer my yeasty fears and make some Sticky Buns already.

From new year, new food

Gigantor mugs of coffee and animal crackers at Open City

The first problem came about when my recipe from The Cast Iron Skillet Cookbook called for corn syrup. I’m refuse to cook with corn syrup since it’s so bad for you, which set off a lengthy search for the second best option for a pecan glaze, which I found on Epicurious: Maple Pecan Sticky Buns. Even more Fall-ier and delish sounding---SCORE.

When Lina and I came home with the groceries, I realized I didn’t have nearly enough butter for the kajillion tablespoons of butter I’d need. Heavens. So we went back out to get more, then took a break because we were already annoyed at the whole thing and it hadn’t even started yet. When I finally started with the dough, I followed the directions to a T, and this is where the yeast really started to annoy me: the dough was supposed to rise and double in size in 45 minutes—which it did not. Not even a little bit, not even at all. Which set us off on another search—this time as we called everyone we knew who would know anything about baking and decided to solve the problem by warming the yeast up a bit—I put the stupid dough in the oven, which was a bad idea as it almost got melty. But THEN we just kept the oven on, put the bowl of dough on top of the oven with a wet towel over it, and an extra hour and a half later we were back on track.

That was when I read the rest of the recipe and saw the dough was supposed to be punched down and allowed to rise for ANOTHER FOUR HOURS. So. Not only is yeast a little pain in the arse, but it apparently likes to take it’s own gal-dang time to do whatever it does to dough. Also keep in mind it was like, 8 p.m. by this point. So then my friend Kelly came over and we watched Juno and then Kelly left and Lina and I decided that by 10:45p.m., the dough was as ready as it would ever be and that we should just roll it out and hope for the best.

From new year, new food

The problem, however, is that the original recipe had ridiculous proportions and this was the stickiest, stretchiest dough I’d ever worked with. My hands were covered in the stuff! Lina said it reminded her of Slimer from Ghost Busters and I said it reminded me of the Blob from that weird old scary movie. We had to add at least ¾ to another cup of flour just to be able to work it. Little by little, the dough came together, and I hoped the yeast gods wouldn’t be angry by this complete disregard for the recipe since baking is a SCIENCE and I was an ENGLISH major, and those 2 fields typically clash as I take things more as suggestions or metaphors, open to interpretation and what-not, and science and baking say No nonono do exactly what I tell you or you will FAIL.

From new year, new food

Attack of the killer monster yeasty dough!

Ahem. So, we rolled out the dough, filled it with butter, cinnamon, and sugar then rolled it up into a cinnamony-sugary log, and sliced it up. I’d already melted butter, brown sugar and maple syrup in my New Awesome Skillet, sprinkled in pecans, then just added the buns to the pan and let them rise for another 35 minutes or so.

From new year, new food

Finally, by 11:34pm, we were ready to bake the damn things. Somehow, when they came out at midnight, the yeast gods had taken mercy upon me and Lina, and gave us an AWESOME pecan sticky bun! Seriously. I mean… we’d been trying to make them a success since 4pm and it was now midnight and all those hours were focused on these stupid Pecan Sticky Buns where the dough didn’t even rise for the longest time, and surprise of all surprises, it somehow worked. Honestly, they were the best Sticky Buns I’d ever had—probably because I’d never had them from scratch before, but damn if they weren’t all warm and gooey and delicious and Fall-y what with the pecans and maple glaze and such.

From new year, new food

So, I guess the moral of the story is: If you want your silly dough to rise, put it on a stovetop while the oven is warm, and you’ll save yourself a ton of hassle and your buns will be hot and awesome. *Snerk.* Oh. And, I guess, always read through a recipe before you start it. That too.

Since this story was just as never-ending as the actual making of the never-ending sticky bun... a little Lucinda Williams for your listening pleasure. Because, honestly, she's just kind of rugged and comforting.. a perfect compliment to Fall and these here buns.

On 27 and Poached Eggs

2009-09-21T23:10:00.007-04:00

So I think 27 is going to be a promising year.

At first I kind of freaked. I mean… almost 30! And I have next to nothing figured out! Aaaah! Then I realized I need to stop my sissy-fied attitude and instead enjoy myself a little. Good plan, no?

Here are a few pics from my birthday celebration…which was a lovely weekend. I had a Chocolate-Guinness cupcake with whiskey ganache filling and Bailey’s icing (gracias a Kari) smooshed into my face and up my nose-holes at my friend Ruben’s open-house party, and then went trotting around Virginia wine country with Roni and Teresa only to finish such a lovely weekend with a few work friends who could grab a last-minute pizza with us at the notoriously delicious 2 Amy’s Pizza. Le sigh. It was a wonderful few days.

Here are a few pics for your end-of-summer-enjoyment-pleasure:

A few shots from the Three Foxes Winery...

From 27 Skies

...with quite possibly the most Thanksgiving-ified port-a-potty ever...

From 27 Skies

...and a fine picnic balancing act...

From 27 Skies

And, of course, a grisly scene of the 27 balloon massacre I had to execute to clean my room (I see one got away, but he didn’t last long. Poor ‘bloon.)

From 27 Skies

One of my most comforting quick-night dinners during busy birthday and work times such as these, and when the weather can’t decide if it’s warm or cold, is the always-perfect Poached Egg Salad with Red Wine Vinaigrette. Oh, heeeerrrrrooooooo, lover!

From 27 Skies

It’s a simple thing, really. A salad consisting of your favorite lettuces and such (I like to use baby spinach and lettuce, but do what you will), with bacon, a poached egg, and whatever other fixin’s you feel like throwing into the mix. Also, if you’re scared to poach an egg-—don’t be. If you mess up, it’s only an egg, and try, try again!

From 27 Skies

I’ve adapted this recipe from Alice Waters lovely book, The Art of Simple Food. For those of you unaware of the good foodie work started by Miz Waters, you need to google a little restaurant called Chez Panisse and read up for a hot minute on the multitude of reasons why she is awesome.

Anyway, I love this Poached Egg salad. I notice I’ve been doing a lot of salads lately, but this one is a hearty and warm meal salad, and I’ve gone into great discussions with several friends regarding our favorite ways to create a poached-egg salad. Folks, this is mine, and probably will forever and always be… I hope you enjoy it and cozy up to it like I love to do with a great work to read, like Great Expectations by one Mr. Charles Dickens who is also awesome and funny on way too many levels to count. So…I guess if you don’t listen to me about the salad, please read this book because not only is it written very wittily and craftily, it is a gorgeous tale and I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to ever pick up.

From 27 Skies

With so many great things under my belt already, and I’m only 23 days into being 27, I think I’ve got quite a lot to look forward to this year. And really… I’m still 3 full years away from when I need to have my life figured out at 30, which is plenty of time, me thinks.

Watermelon, Dressed Up

2009-09-07T12:29:00.011-04:00

I can’t believe it’s the end of summer already. A week ago, it was warm, sunny, and humid, and this week has been gray, chill, and rainy. What happened to easy transitions?? Oh, DC and your strange and moody weather conditions! I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to you, but at least you keep me on my toes.

I also can’t get my mind around the fact that I have, as of this past weekend, been in D.C. for an entire year. I can write on and on about how the past 52 weeks have shaped and changed me, but what I really want to talk about before it gets any colder, is watermelon.

I’m nearly convinced that no fruit is as summery as watermelon, and, for that reason alone, we need to discuss this for a hot minute before the leaves change and Fall is in full swing. You still have at least a few weeks to make this before watermelons disappear from the markets, and it’s an ace to keep in your back pocket for years to come.

Being from Arizona, we had our fair share of watermelon since it seemed to be in season for what seemed like half the year. I could kick myself now for all the times that I missed eating it in my new favorite way, cause really, once you go where I’m about to direct you, few ever find their way back to eating straight up watermelon again. Unless you’re a purist, which… I can do nothing for you. Anyway,I love this salad. Watermelon Salad, to be exact. And boy, did I get a hefty introduction to it.

About a year and a half ago, I had the great luck to go to a special Top Chef demonstration with Richard from season 4 and Betty from season 2 serving as his sous chef. I personally was hoping for Sam from season 2 as he is a total dreamboat, but that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, I somehow scored a seat in the front row and while chatting up the audience, Richard whipped up some lamb shanks, made bacon maple ice cream (!) using dry ice and no ice cream machine because Richard is awesome and just does stuff like that, I guess. Then, he made Watermelon Salad, using cilantro, 4 kinds of onions, yuzu juice, mint, and cubed watermelon, and I was elated to find that my typical apathy to watermelon was suddenly ooomphed up and I was in watermelon heaven.

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I tried recreating the recipe a few times with other recipes I found online, none of which really captured the essence of what I thought Watermelon Salad should be: cool, slightly tangy, slightly salty, and just…interesting. After a few months of searching, Roni and I discovered a great Watermelon Salad recipe in Nigella Lawson’s book, Forever Summer. And hooo-eee is it easy compared to Richard’s version, but just as good. Better, probably, because it combines even more of my favorite things, like lime juice and kalamata olives and feta and pine nuts. Joy!

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It sounds weird. I know. But trust is key here. If you don’t like olives, just take them out. I’ve always been a lover of sweet-salty-sour combos, and this might be the winner. The watermelon is sweet and chilled, with a tang from the simple dressing of lime juice, and with a freshness from the mint, the saltiness from the olives and feta… the salad is the bomb and truly does belong in a cookbook entitled Forever Summer.

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I crave this salad on a regular basis, because really… a week going by without this, especially during summer watermelon season, is just the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. It’s basically reflective of the fun and uniqueness that is Nigella Lawson, just in watermelon form, and while I’ve never been there, I love how Nigella ends the recipe instructions with this exclamation: “Hava Negila! The taste of Tel Aviv sunshine!”

I'd Like You to Meet Your Summer Fling

2009-08-11T23:18:00.006-04:00

So let me tell you a story about this dish I like to call “Crack Salad.”

One day in late Spring, Roni and I both accidentally stumbled upon a noodle salad recipe that sounded awesome and intriguing, the same salad, actually, just posted on different food blogs, and low and behold, FATE literally came and upsmacked us on the back of our heads.

People… we were meant to meet this salad, fall in love, and never look back. No sirree bob. And, I’m happy to report, the salad and I have gotten along swimmingly well since April, we’re going on five months of hanging out now, and damn if this isn’t my most successful relationship yet. Of course, this love is meant to be shared, and I’m happy to do so.

Let me introduce you to a Vietnamese “Crack” Noodle salad. Because it IS addictive, and you WILL want more, and it gives you a jolt of summer high right in your mouth.

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I even made it in AZ recently, and my G-ma had second helpings, which she never has. Also, don’t hate that it has shrimp in it again (like these tacos we made). Nothing says summer better that shrimp, a cold noodle salad, and the dressing that makes you want to do a little dance.

Basically you shred a napa cabbage (if you aren’t a cabbage person, ignore your instincts and just trust me on this one.) Then you chop up your veggies and herbs, like carrots, spring onions, and I like a combo of basil, mint, and cilantro, but choose what you will.

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You cook up the rice noodles, run them under some cold water, drain them, and set them aside. Sprinkle the herbs and carrots and green onions on top of the cabbage, and finish it off with some sautéed shrimp, more herbs, and some toasted cashews (or peanuts, or whatever nut fits your fancy). Somewhere in the midst of all this, you whir up the dressing in the food processor, which includes garlic, fish sauce, vinegar, water, chili flakes, lime juice, and brown sugar.

So… then you’re done. Because this is a salad, and that’s all there is to it. I like to put a helping of the rice noodles in the bottom of the bowl, a scoop of the salad/shrimp mixture on top, and then slosh on a good dose of the dressing.

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You have to understand, what makes this salad so addictive is its bright flavors and crunchiness of the cabbage and cashews, the way the dressing plays on the noodles and the shrimp just make it a nice hearty meal. The first time I had this I had 4 bowls, I kid you not. YUM. Let me reiterate: yumyumyumyum!

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What’s funny is that I pretty much avoided all foods of the “asian persuasion” throughout most of my life until college because I hated Chinese food and anything that, in my ignorant brain, reminded me of Chinese food. Then, my parents smartly introduced me to Thai food with its alluring coconut curries and peanut sauces and I was a goner. What also helped was my friend Lucy inviting me to her house for dinner in college where her mom made some very simple fish, a clear broth, and a rice pancake.... nothing like the Chinese food served at Panda Express, let me promise you. Now I crave sushi, pho, panang curry, and of course, my favorite vietnamese summer crack salad. Thank the Lord above that our taste buds change every 7 years. Or, I finally got over my aversion to soy sauce ever since that time I was five and ate so much of it in my egg drop soup I made myself sick and couldn’t eat Chinese food without wincing for almost 15 years. Whatevs. My taste buds have made a comeback and have a whole eastern continent of delicious tastes to discover. Joy.

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When the going gets tough... the tough make this

2009-07-07T23:23:00.011-04:00

Most of my culinary experimentation takes place on Sundays. I spend all week thinking about a perfect Sunday meal, the kind that not only celebrates another week over but eases you into Monday ever so slightly.

It’s like a steady breath in for the week to come and a relaxed and contented breath out.

And while I usually dread Mondays, I love rehashing the weekend with Roni on our Sunday night evenings and then watching the Netflix movie that’s come in, or trying to (I recently fell asleep during La Dolce Vita and returned it without ever seeing the end. Woopsies.)

Once in a while though, I break out of my mold. I refuse to wait for Sundays. And sometimes, I stumble onto something so easy, so good, and so very worth your time that I just have to share.

In this case, my Wednesday meal (several Wednesdays over…once I started, I just couldn’t stop sharing) was inspired by my waking up one morning craving, almost as soon as I opened my eyes, a pasta with asparagus and goat cheese that I had seen in my Bon Appetít. It was really only a thumbnail of a picture, but dang if I haven’t been on a roll with actually MAKING the recipes in my magazines, and I thought I’d give it a try. Only after I decided to try it did I realize that not only my friend Erin had made it (and blogged about it) but so did Smitten Kitchen! What the heck! Either my subconscious is working overtime, or a lot of us just have really good taste (I lean towards the latter reason).

So, before my first test subject came over, my old friend Erik from AZ, I quite literally threw this dish together. No joke. I did the whole baddaBOOM thing with the mint and swirled things around and tossed the pasta and it was a dish that was more like mixing than cooking. Basically, if you can boil water, you can make this dish. Yay, you!

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I rocked out for a bit to The Format (which always reminds me of driving through Phoenix on a summer day), and this is all you do: boil pasta, add asparagus to the pasta water as you boil, and boil some peas that might be hibernating in your freezer too. This all sounds like a good and boring boiled mess, but trust me here… its worth it. Plus, I don’t like peas alone and have to mix them with things, and my mom always said I should eat more of them.

While pasta and said veggies were cooking away, in a big bowl I put a healthy glug of olive oil salt, pepper, chopped mint, the zest of one lemon, and an entire small package of goat cheese that I had scooped out in chunks.

I then drained the pasta, asparagus and peas and reserve some of the cooking water. I added all that to the big bowl of olive oil, goat cheese, mint and lemon and tossed it about, added some hot cooking water, a healthy dose of salt and pepper, a squeeze of lemon and HELLO dinner is ready in like, uh, ten minutes. Maybe fifteen if you chop asparagus slow, or have the slowest stove top ever, which you might, so I feel bad for you, but not that bad, because I just gave you a pimp daddy recipe that will impress your friends. Also, it’s affordable, relatively healthy, filling, delicious, and summery. If you like that sort of thing.

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Oh, and I gave my Aunt Deb the recipe, and she oooohed and aaaaahed over it the next day, and some more friends that came over for dinner the next week liked it, as did some other friends who have since tried it, so I know its pretty legit. The original recipe didn’t call for peas or mint, but I added the peas and substituted tarragon for mint and that’s about it. I’ve since heard the tarragon is pretty awesome too, so maybe next time I make a go of it I’ll really branch out, be all experimental, and try tarragon.

Also, I apologize for the lack of blogging in this last month. Work has just gotten pretty crazy, people have been coming into town, and I truly hope to be a bit more regular about this.

Please take this peace offering in the form of one of my favorite Format songs, which is also kind of like a musical welcome song for my friend Annie who I volunteered with in Santiago, Chile a few years back. We would have dance parties to Michael Jackson and The Format, and she’s coming to DC next week! Joy!

(Disclaimer: this is honestly the best version of this song on Youtube. Um....)

Shrimp Tacos = Summer Time

2009-06-09T00:02:00.014-04:00

I must confess… it’s been a strange start to June. Today I woke up at 6 a.m. to a major thunderstorm, then I literally sunburned my arms while sitting outside during lunch, and then this afternoon a huge gale-force wind storm blew up again. It’s been quite a roller coaster ride into Summer, I must say, and while I adore summer storms, I’m sort of craving the sun these days. And honestly, since Sunday night, I keep thinking about a fantastic meal that Roni and I put together which is truly summer-swoon-worthy.

Before I delve into said meal, I have to preface this by saying that every month, we receive two printed culinary gems: Gourmet and Bon Appetit. Honestly, when each of these come in, I grab a mug of coffee/glass of wine/pint of beer and peruse to my heart’s content, dog-earing certain recipes, post-it noting others, etc.

Yet I hardly get around to ever making any of these recipes, mostly because I’m Lazy and Forgetful and these things do not bode well for meal planning. Yet I changed things with a “Mexican Seafood Saute” recipe in the June issue of Bon Appetit and am now UN-Lazy with a Great Memory. Anyway.

First of all…. For our Shrimp Tacos, I…wait for it… made… wait for it… TORTILLAS. Yes, I know, who does this? It’s like saying “Yo, I’m totally gonna make crackers” or “Man, I should just whip up some mustard right now.” I mean you can, obviously, but there are certain things that I think people take for granted at the grocery store, like tortillas. Tired of not getting my Mexican food craving satisfied, I took matters into my own hands and kneaded and rolled my way towards tortilla heaven. And guess what? Twasn’t hard at all. In fact, it was so flippin’ easy that Roni took one bite, looked at me, then said, “Sammy D, I’m sorry, but we are NEVER going back to store-bought tortillas.” This of course means I’ll be perfecting my technique because I kind of suck at rolling dough out into perfect circles, but oh MAN were they good. Here’s a quick shot, and I’m sorry that my stack of 9 tortillas doesn’t look taller.

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So, if that isn’t enough to get you all hot and bothered for this post, then we are moving on to the filling of said tortilla awesomeness.

Roni was in charge of the Shrimp Saute. First off, this sauce/marinade is so good I want to bathe in it. Which is kind of gross, but you haven’t tried it yet so don’t give me that look. With the shrimp it was incredible: bright, with multi-leveled flavors of fun and summer and there was a fiesta in my mouth.

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Money Shot!

We had some pretty ripe mangoes that I chopped up for the salsa, along with an avocado, jalapeno, shallots, lime juice and mint.

I can’t really describe why this dinner was so good. Maybe it was because the day had finally been sunny, we had gone kayaking in the Potomac in the morning, and were in complete summer-vacation moods with sunburned shoulders and that sweet exhaustion that comes with being outside all day. But, it was that good, and mama don’t lie.

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I also just made a straight-up black bean/corn/pepper salad that I always make when I have tacos or enchiladas because its tradition and I am a traditional kinda gal, you see. Plus its super easy and makes for good lunch-fixins for the next day or so.

Please make these tacos this summer, and set yourself a goal of making tortillas. It’s really not scary, I promise. Also, you’ll be the coolest person you know! It’s a win-win situation if you ask me. Oh, and don't rub your nose or your face after chopping jalapenos...even after you wash your hands twice...because it will burn. And if you actually read all the way through this long post, you get a gold star and I’ll even throw in a tortilla.

Your New Favorite Cookie

2009-06-04T23:20:00.011-04:00

Okay. So. This is gonna be a quick and zippy entry because I’m kind of in between two bigger posts. Yet I know I need to get something up here like yesterday, so I thought I would treat you to some cookies.

Because everybody deserves a good cookie sometimes.

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I apologize for giving you such a meh oatmeal cookie recipe last time, but I am now making up for it with these Pecan Drops. I got them from The Wednesday Chef who in turn got them from the L.A. Times who in turn got them from Harris Ranch, which is an inn and restaurant owned by some huge beef feeder/marketer in California. Weird, I know, but what can you do. I’ve made them multiple times, they’re pretty fool-proof, and are SO GOOD. Also, they package and travel well according to Roni who has sent batches home to her family. This is made all the more important by the fact that Roni doesn’t really like baking at all. See? Easy as pie. Pecan Pie, actually, if we’re going to get down to business about what these cookies remind me of.

I love Thanksgiving, which I am sure I will discuss more and more as we get closer to the Big Event this upcoming November. One of my favorite aspects of Turkey Day is the array of pies. I LOVE pie. I do. Especially the crunchy topping on a good pecan pie. Honestly, that's what these cookies should be called- Easy Crunchy Pecan Pie Topping Amazingness Cookies.

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Oh, and guess what? They have no flour, no butter, maybe 5 ingredients, and come together in the flashiest of flashes. They are nutty and chewy and taste maple-y, which must be a magical caramel chemical reaction between the pecans and brown sugar.

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To the genius who invented these cookies: I want to give you a high-five and wear BFF heart necklaces together and then bake these cookies on rainy Sunday afternoons. Love, Samantha

Italians Make Things Hot

2009-05-23T18:35:00.011-04:00

Panzanella.

Doesn’t that just sound pretty? What with it being Italian and all, it’s kind of like the Sophia Loren of salads, if you ask me. I mean… you take normal ingredients. Things like stale bread of all things, some tomatoes, onions, cucumbers and a red pepper. Then, true to Italian form, you sex it up with some good dressing and suddenly you have a show-stopper summer salad, something that makes you do a double-take and think “Huh… so… it’s just bread and tomatoes? I don’t get it, but damn, I kind of have a crush.”

During one hot Phoenician summer day, I was bumming around watching Ina Garten on the Food Network and saw her literally throw this dish together in what seemed minutes-- I was sold. Given the heat, I was in need of something fresh that had the essence of summer but not the heat of it. Oh, Ina. You’re a woman after my own heart.

Again, it seems like some of the best dishes were perfected by peasants centuries ago, and panzanella is the same. Different versions call for different ingredients. Some have anchovies, some don’t have cucumber, some grill the red peppers, some use a specific Tuscan salt-less bread. This is a pretty basic version that you can fancify to your liking. Add what you like to this dish-- grill the tomatoes or slow roast them, perhaps. Jamie Oliver uses the tomato juice as part of his dressing. In my very amateur opinion, this recipe is a great balance of flavor, and, more importantly, a solid starting point to jump off in your own direzione.

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Back to the recipe. I’m an impatient person, I think. I just don’t have time to wait for a loaf of bread to be a few days old before I make this. When I want panzanella, I want it now. Instead, I cheat (duh) and use a fresh loaf, torn into chunks and toasted with a bit of olive oil, sea salt, and fresh cracked pepper in a skillet. The croutons alone are enough to entice me over and over again to make this dish as the weather warms up and the tomatoes ripen with the summer.

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A final note on Sophia Loren. You know, I don’t proclaim myself an expert on her by any means, but how can you not love a woman who one time said "Everything you see, I owe to spaghetti" ??? Even if she’s a bit tanorexic these days, she still rocks it. Any girl would be lucky to look so good, and I think this classic Italian salad with fresh veggies is a good place to start. At least... here's hoping.

Cabbage Kid

2009-05-05T23:48:00.012-04:00

Growing up, I ate a lot of Indian food. Included in that was a neon-yellow shredded cabbage dish that was fine, but it wasn’t my favorite by any means. Besides the standard coleslaw at picnics and this one horrible experience of me actually trying to make a grilled red cabbage slaw (I still shudder… never take for granted a good olive oil, especially when you accidentally use a RANCID OLIVE OIL and ruin everything, which, btw, still gives me nightmares...ugh) cabbage was just kind of meh you know?

I mean… its cabbage.

This lack of interest probably also stemmed from my Dad banning brussel sprouts and cabbage-like items from the table besides the previously mentioned Indian cabbage, so it was literally not until January, at the tave tiranse night that my friend Kari suggested sliced red cabbage to eat with hummus. Pardon? Yeah, it sounds weird, but you know what? I was an idiot. Red cabbage with good hummus is the shiz, and you should know it. Sweet, crunchy, and kind of perfect, cabbage totally slapped me across the face with its greatness and now I’m a big fan and want to put cabbage in everything and sing about it from the rooftops.

Remember how I said I couldn’t write about braised cabbage because it was so hot outside? Well Nature complied and has made it rain at least 4 of the 7 days of the week, which makes me careful for what I wish for. And yet. This is perfect cabbage weather, especially when it’s braised and served with melty cheese and crusty bread. Oh, baby.

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I got this Savoy Cabbage Gratin recipe from Molly’s blog, Orangette, who in turn got it from Molly Steven's book, All About Braising. I’ve been a big fan of the Orangette blog for a while, and had also wanted to try this recipe for months. (If you haven’t visited her site…please do. And soon.) So while the concept of this dish is simple and the ingredients are few, it just takes time to bake. First you take a Savoy cabbage, chop it up, then saute it for a bit. Then you bake/braise the cabbage in the chicken stock for a nice long time. Then you add cheese and let it get melty and the edges get crispy...

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While you might have to wait almost an hour for this darling of a dish to bake, I promise you… your kitchen smells GOOD, and the cheese…you should just put a lot on because melted cheese on this is a most-awesome delight. I didn’t do the triple-cream cheese Molly had recommended because I’m cheap and wanted to use what I had on hand, which was Parmesan and Havarti, and damn if it didn’t work out swimmingly. I had 2 bowls and wanted more, but I restrained myself to save the rest for lunch and dinner the next day.

The comfort of this dish reminded me of the way I felt about soup over the winter… it just sort of hugs you from the inside out and is kind of perfect in a humble and lovely sort of way.

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Up next? Probably one of two salads I’m obsessed with right now. As a side note, you know how you get a song stuck in your head for three days straight and can’t get it out unless you sing it? All of the time? Like, every five minutes? Welcome to my world. Also, let me introduce you to a song by Josh Radin and Schuyler Fisk that I had originally kind of ignored on The Last Kiss soundtrack from a few years back. I’m hoping by me posting this on the blog it will finally leave my poor brain alone. Thanks Youtube!

Lassi is More

2009-04-26T20:54:00.006-04:00

Today was the first day that I looked out my window and the trees were actually budding green leaves… ALL of them, spontaneously. One day, the trees are bare, the next, they’re green. Mother Nature is a funny old lady, I tell you, but at least she’s got a few tricks up her sleeve.

To celebrate the good weather I took to the streets for several hours and while walking home, I realized I was damn hungry but couldn’t get the courage to cook anything, or even, heaven forbid, put forth the effort to chop some veggies and make a salad. I may love eating but sometimes my laziness + a hot day = me not cooking and scrounging for any food stuffs that I can pretend equals a meal.

Then it hit me. The only thing I ever really want when it’s warm and I just need to cool off from the inside out: I wanted lassi.

First things first. Let’s learn how to say this word. You definitely do not pronounce it like that famous dog of bravely epic proportions, “Lassie.” You pronounce it like “Luss-y” for mysterious reasons that I’m unaware of, but thems the facts, folks. Just accept it.

Lassi, that classical Indian yogurt mixture, is literally the drink of my childhood, adolescence, and adult life in Arizona. Since it was almost always hot, my mom or G-ma prepared it often and served it in tall iced-tea glasses with flecks of ice glinting in the sun. I kid you not, this is a magical drink and you will laugh with glee at how easy it is. Here I am sitting an hour and a half after I downed a glass, and I’m STILL cooled off, and my belly is content and things are just pretty copasetic right now.

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You take yogurt (I use low-fat, but go for the whole milk yogurt if you want to as well. I tend to avoid fat-free dairy products…hello! It’s weird!) You dump about a cup and a half of yogurt into a blender, a solid handful of ice, a splash of either milk or water and a few tablespoons of sugar (to your liking). You blend the whole thing up until it’s frothy but with a few crunchie ice pieces still floating around…and then… you pour it and drink it. It’s pretty amazing, you know. When you feel like getting fancy with the flavors, add some mango nectar (or chunks of very ripe peeled mangoes) and blend it up too. I’ve read that other traditional Indian lassis use spices and are salty, but in my family it’s always been the simple yogurt, ice, sugar mixture and truly it’s a drink of beauty. It curbs hunger, satisfies a slight sweet tooth, and cools you off completely. Trust me...us Indians don't mess around when it comes to yogurt.

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(Aw...here is lassi looking out the window to the poor sweaty people below.)

For those of you who are keen on the new “natural frozen yogurt” by the likes of Tangysweet here in D.C., lassi tastes almost exactly like the “Classic” flavor of that yogurt…except in smoothie-riffic form, and is cheaper since you can make it at home. Sometimes, less is more. Or, in this case… lassi is more. Ha! Mother Nature might have a few tricks up her sleeve, but I have my own with lassi and it’s heat-defeating capabilities. I think that’s a pretty good start.

Oh! And I haven't forgotten about getting more vegetables on this site, but I just couldn't bring myself to write about braised cabbage when it was 90 degrees out. I'll work on it, I promise.

Vagabondy Python and the Search for the Holy Cookie Grail

2009-04-15T22:18:00.011-04:00

Ah, April.

It’s really the one big glitch in springtime, as I see it. I suppose life is always a delicate balance, and, to even out the lovely weather and flowers and green things, we have rain and allergies, and…taxes.

This year, I’m turning to cookies to see me through…and, hopefully, a healthy refund. Thanks, IRS!

I love cookies. Remember Cookie Monster?

That should give you an idea of how I feel about a good cookie. While I don’t go bat-crazy and stuff them in my face like he did, give me one well-made cookie (or two, if I’m being honest here), and I’m a content girl. I especially love me some oatmeal cookies. Maybe it’s the part of me that pretends that this is a “healthier” dessert choice, but dang it all if oatmeal cookies aren’t near perfection. Chewy, hearty, sweet and a bit salty, nothing whispers comfort like oatmeal cookies on a gusty spring day.

Here in DC, we’re lucky to have a local chain called Teaism, where a few years ago I was introduced to the glories of the Salty Oat Cookie. This year when I moved to DC, I discovered its spunky twin, the Chocolate Salty Oat Cookie. Oh. My. Goodness.

Salt on TOP of a cookie? Oh, yes. For those of you out there, like moi, who have a penchant for salty foods, this cookie is a dream. The first bite is salty, and as soon as that passes, the richness of the oatmeal kicks in and the added sweetness from a raisin or chocolate chip finishes it off nicely. Next thing you know, you’re left wondering where the hell salty oatmeal cookies have been all these years, hand sadly empty, crumbs trailed along the table and your shirt, a testament to the awe-inspiring power of new and exciting food combinations with sugar and salt.

Ever since my encounter with the mythical Salty Oat Cookie, I always put the salt required for oatmeal cookies on top of the dough right before it sets in the oven, and really…it’s pretty clever.

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Speaking of clever, I thought it would be pretty great to throw in some dried cherries and walnuts and chocolate chips into this oatmeal cookie recipe I found online that claimed to be the be-all, end-all of oatmeal cookie recipes. Quite the claim, but I'm a gullible person you know. Actually I prefer the term trusting, but whatever, anyway, this cookie recipe did NOT in fact bowl me over with its awesomeness, nor did my mouth do somersaults when I took a bite, nor was I super proud to share this with people at work. I mean... this cookie recipe is fine. It is, in fact, good. But when you have great expectations, and the result is only pretty good rather than spectacularly amazing, its a bit of a let down. They're crispier than I like (I prefer big, soft, chewy oatmeal cookies) and I thought it was strange the recipe didn't call for any vanilla. I should have known. Anyway, the quest is still on for the best oatmeal cookie recipe ever, which means I just get to eat a lot more cookies, which isn't really a travesty at all. Also, when I brought some in to work today, the whole bag was gone before lunchtime, and were actually pretty good when warmed up in the microwave for twenty seconds.

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By the by-- cookies are a great way to pay off your one friend willing and kind enough to do your taxes. I mean…SOMETHING has to nourish them through this trying time, no? At least, that’s how I see it. They spend an hour and a half on my taxes, I spend an hour and a half on cookies, and look: an in-kind trade that makes both parties happy and good with the government for another year. Thank you, Michigan-Tax-Man-Friend: you’re buena gente. Also, the cookies will be in the mail tomorrow, and, like I said, don't get upset that they're not absolute perfection.

Up next? Probably a re-cap of all the veggies I ate this week in an attempt to be slightly more loving to the vegetable section of the food pyramid. You have Asparagus and Cabbage to look forward to, you lucky tax-burdened beasts, you. In other news, my lovely sister Natalie and our good friend Jared are coming to the District THIS THURSDAY to visit with me for the weekend! Joy.

A Tale of Two Curds

2009-04-04T14:28:00.005-04:00

They say that when life hands you lemons, you make lemonade.

That’s fine and dandy and all, but lets be honest--that’s a lot of lemons to squeeze. Also, when I get a tall glass of fresh lemonade, it’s usually downed pretty quickly because I love the stuff. But who wants to take their lemons and make something so fleetingly good? I say, when you get a bunch lemons (metaphorically or literally) go for the gold. The lasting kind, or, at least, something that lasts a few more days than fresh lemonade.

Go for Lemon Curd.

Don’t let the name fool you. Everyone knows and generally likes lemons, but curd? It reminds me of those small, light-yellow cheese curds they try to sell you in stores. Or in Wisconsin and Minnesota, where, while visiting a friend, I was once told, “The sign of a good curd is that it squeaks when you bite it.” Squeaking curds?? Um….

It also makes me think of that nursery rhyme:

Little Miss Muffett
Sat on a tuffett
Eating her curds and whey
Along came a spider
And sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffett away

I don’t know about you, but I’m still not quite sure what a tuffett is, exactly. When I was a kid, I had a dim picture in my mind of some soupy-porridge substance that made me feel terrible for Miss Muffett and her lunch. The only bit I understood was the part about a spider freaking Miss Muffett out so badly that she couldn’t eat her meal and actually ran away screaming, curds and whey left toppled upon the ground rather forlornly.

All in all, I say that curd, in its 2 various forms, gets a strange and mysterious rap. Not too many of us think “Man. I really wish I had some curd right now.” Or “Hey guys! Who’s in the mood for curd tonight?” Unless, maybe, you are from Minnesota and grew up with the squeaking cheese curds. I, on the other hand, Arizona raised, did not have cheese curds. What I did have in our front yard, however, was a variety of citrus trees laden with grapefruit, oranges, limes, and, of course, the humble lemon... which led to my favorite curd: the lemon kind.

Needless to say…it’s been one of those weeks, you know? The kind where work gets even more workish than normal and personal events take interesting and somewhat unexpected turns, all of which throw off your groove and leave you scratching your head and thinking “What the…? Where the…? ...I need to go to bed.”

To celebrate the lemons of life, I actually bought some rather sunny-looking specimens at the grocery and decided, rather smartly, that while it was still too early for lemonade it was perfect timing for some lemon curd. Now, I’ve only made it once before, for an Easter lemon pie I tackled last year, and I will say that while the pie was fine, I fell much more deeply in love with the custard I had created to fill said pie with. And while I love me some pie, in this case, I loved me the lemon curd more.

From new year, new food

The thing about lemon curd is that it is a great little topping to have a jar of. According to my mom and other various gourmet sources, its perfect in tart shells with berries on top, on hot scones or toast, on shortbread cookies, and, now that I think about it, could be pretty delicious on some raspberry sorbet. The possibilities are endless, and dang it all—its high time lemon curd gets the proper respect it deserves.

From new year, new food

(Whoops! How ever did my Dogfish Head 60 Minute I.P.A. get in that picture?? Mmmm.)

The premise is simple: fresh lemon juice (or lime, if you want to get even fancier with your curd), sugar, a pinch of salt, lemon zest, eggs and a healthy heap of butter, when stirred over medium-low heat for about ten to fifteen minutes, turns the sharp tang of lemons into a sweetened creamy spread that’s thick enough to stick to a spoon (which is another way to eat it, as I’ve happily discovered). Even better, its super easy to whip together after a long day, which means it’s great to have on hand for breakfast the next morning (as everyone at work thought when I brought a jar in.)

From new year, new food

(It's like bottled sunshine. But tastier.)

Either way you look at it, having a lemony week actually turns into something much better… a couple jars of tangy-sweet awesomeness that you can share with the people around you. And, might I add, much easier and longer-lasting than a single glass of lemonade. Between you and me, when lemons are concerned, I think I got the better end of the deal.

A Good Weekend

2009-03-29T19:21:00.009-04:00

“No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those who are thoroughly persuaded of each other’s worth.” – Robert Southey

I stumbled across this quote while attending college in small-town Ohio, far from my family in Arizona, and I loved how accurate it is. It’s a double-edged sword of wordsmithery: on one hand, it’s horrible being so far from the people you hold dearest, yet on the other, you’re lucky to even have relationships that grow stronger with distance and improve over time. I still think of this quote on a weekly basis, as I’ve done for about the last nine years straight (it seems I am always separated from someone). But all of those miles and minutes spent apart fly out the window when things like road trips, dinner parties (and breakfast parties and lunch parties) and food comas and conversations and laughter create the most-excellent of reunions.

Oh, and I can’t forget the Diplodocus dinosaur shadows (courtesy of Lina):

From new year, new food

Now-- I know you’re excited to hear about all the fun I had last weekend, but I’d first like to say a big I’M SORRY to the blogosphere and my friends and family who are faithful readers… after moving into Our! New! Apartment! the last weekend of February, I’ve been struggling to balance between nesting in my new room, cooking lots of things with reckless abandon in our kitchen, and traveling quite a bit for work. Now that I’ve properly apologized, I want to mention that this blog will take a bit of a growing-pains turn and, while still maintaining its focus on home food (preferably international) recipes, I want to document all of the other things we are cookin’ up at le chateau as Erjona started calling our most-awesome of apartments. And yes, we are dorks, I already know that.

So, wanna know more about the dinner that Lina’s shadow dinosaur was trying to eat? Well, here’s a quick background: Whitney and Lina came to visit. We all went to said small-school in Ohio, and Whit and her hubby Andy road-tripped in from Columbus while Lina took the green line train in from Maryland, and, long story short, there was much rejoicing.

After visiting museums and walking around in the chilly weather, we got down to bizniz. And by bizniz, I mean the start of our 4-hour dinner. Also, I am giving props to Jamie Oliver right now for his delightful Italian cook book, Jamie's Italy, but also for how adorable he is in his writing. He’s so British and makes food sound even better when he gushes about a simple vegetable, saying “It’s bloody gorgeous!”

Okay, for starters—we like bread. To accompany the bread, we wanted Brie. Lina likes her Brie warm, and microwaved it a little too long. But I, for one, have never met a cheese (especially a soft, gooey, melty cheese) that I haven’t liked. So, we bonded with a puddle of melted brie. And it was goooood.

From new year, new food

(also, props to Lina and Whitney's positioning of the one working light in our kitchen so that we could actually see the food we were cooking and eating. You ladies rock!)

Next, Erjona put together an olive/sun-dried tomato Bruschetta which was also the bomb, but I don’t have a recipe because she got it out of a very classy jar from Whole Foods and paired it with a good Soppressatta. By the way…I don’t think I’ve accurately expressed my love of olives, but you should know that I LOVE them. So, apparently, does Andy, because he bought a jar just for himself and ate nearly the whole thing.

From new year, new food

We had voted earlier in the morning to go with Jamie’s Pasta Alla Norma, a Sicilian pasta dish that is pretty straightforward with eggplant, tomatoes, garlic, basil, and cheese.

From new year, new food

(demonstrating my sweet moves with the tongs)

I hadn’t ever cooked one of his pasta recipes, but it was simple and hearty and looked absolutely lovely on a chilly spring night. The eggplant was well-seasoned and meshed nicely with the other flavors and had a good kick from the red chili flakes.

From new year, new food

(As a side note…and multiple helpings of the pasta later, there was still quite a bit leftover. The pasta tasted even better on Monday when I brought it in to work where it fed me for two lunches straight. Score!)

After dinner we got all adventurous and decided to try a pretty simple suggestion of Mr. Oliver’s for something called gelato con olio e sale: good-quality vanilla ice cream with a drizzle of olive oil and a sprinkle of sea salt. Huh. This was quite the curiosity, but we were all strangely attracted to that page in the book, and had buzzed about it for a big part of the day as we walked around the city. Oil? Ice cream? Salt? Oh my. Strange does it sound, but good does it taste! I kid you not. We all placed 2 scoops in our bowls with our new toppings, and I couldn’t help but think that I’ve come a long way with my ice cream topping choices. From bubble gum and Gummi bears as a kid to strawberries and chocolate jimmies in high school to… olive oil and salt. But you know what? It’s GOOD. Strangely good, like syrup and bacon or cheese and apples or chocolate and popcorn. The sweet-salty mix was creamy, a bit grassy from the oil and pretty addictive. Every single one of us got second helpings, and that’s when Andy went downhill, (I think he let the wine get to his head) and decided to make a vinaigrette of the oil, wine, and balsamic vinegar and attempted some new and unpalatable concoction of an icecream float… gross. I won’t go into details, but the rest of us happily stopped with the olive oil and salt combo. I’ve since successfully tested this combo on another group of friends, and now feel like a true ambassador for Mr. Oliver’s simple-desserts cause. (Jamie! Call me! We’ll collaborate on a new book!)

From new year, new food

(the remains of our ice cream ventures)

Sadly, the next day after a wonderful morning meandering through the DuPont Circle Farmer’s Market, and then a good brunch of leftover pancakes, fruits and a green chile and scallion frittata, Whitney and Andy had to hit the road and Lina had laundry and I had to take a nap. Priorities, you know. My next major reunion is with my sister Natalie and our friend Jared in about 3 weeks! (!) Needless to say, I’m not a big fan of distance, but it does help you realize how lucky you are to have anyone deem you worthy of a road trip, a plane ride, or even a four-hour dinner… and it makes the time you do get to spend together pretty wonderful, especially when it’s accompanied by fun surprises in the ice cream world.

I See Onions, I See France

2009-02-19T13:19:00.014-05:00

Dear February:

I’ve decided that you’re a strange sort of month.

So far in D.C., I’ve noted that you’ve given us balmy Saturdays in the fifties that hint to a perfect Spring, yet today I wake up to snow that, throughout the day, has become a drippy and freezing type of rain that “spits” at you as my friend Vanessa says.

I really wish you’d make up your mind.

In order to help you along I’m going to do my part, and, with the help of some onions, a big pot, and wine, maybe we could officially say “Okay, WINTER, it’s been a fun ride… but let’s get down to business, move on with our lives, and boot you out for the next nine months.”

Whaddya say? I’m in if you are.

Love,
Samantha

Ahem. So, as you can see, I’m kind of tired of this back-and-forth weather action that February has been teasing us with. I’m also a major fan of soups and stews in general, and I figured I could earn some good weather-mojo by making a big pot of French Onion Soup and combine all of these feelings of mine into one meal. Kind of like a rain-dance, except I’m making soup… and I want sunshine instead. Good plan, no?

Now, here I go again being a big fat cheater on my blog. This was my conundrum: scrounge around for a French person to get a recipe out of…which *tear* I don’t really have right now… OR I could just look up French Onion Soup recipes.

So, I befriended Epicurious instead. This is not to say that I didn’t do research. Apparently, a lot of French food comes from old peasant recipes and the same goes for onion soup which has its origins as far back as the Roman Empire. Except, of course, the French one-upped that with the legend that King Louis XV was hungry in his hunting lodge one night (maybe in February?) and had Champagne, onions, and butter… and thus, the predecessor to the modern Soupe à l'Oignon was born. Oh, those French with their butter and good ideas about food…anyhoo. On to the show!

To start off, I put on a little Billie Holiday and began to cut up some onions. SIX whole onions to be exact. Now, I have been known to bawl my head off at chopping one onion. Imagine my joy when I had to slice up six of the little punks.

From new year, new food

(I like the little guy on the right. Looks like he's peeking out from all the others. Bah.)

Anyway, what I lacked in protective goggles I more than made up for in cheap sunglasses, and donned them like a true diva and repeated the song I wear my sunglasses at night, so I can, so I can see and sliced all the onions right on up, with barely a tear. FACT: I will now wear sunglasses whenever I have to chop a lot of onions. Isn’t that super sexy? Oh, I know.

(Proof of my cool factor. Yes, that's my reflection in a French Press. Don't hate.)

I then added a chunk of butter and garlic and cooked the onions on low-medium heat for a good 45 minutes…just stirring and stirring and added some salt when I felt like it, some pepper, a little bit of olive oil, some flour… as you can see, I got a bit bored and took some liberties with the spices and such. Eh, whatevs, it all turned out ok in the end, you know?

(First Stage)

(A little bit softer now)

Oh yes… and I cannot forget the thyme. I added a bit of that too. Then I added the beef broth, some water, and let the whole thing boil then cook down and I just kept stirring and tasting and adding in a ton of salt until I felt it was good enough to put into a bowl. In some versions of the recipe, I read that people added red wine and, at the end, a splash of balsamic, so I figured at this point I’d bastardized the poor recipe enough I might as well go the Full Monty and do both.

(Caramelized goodness)

I also sliced up a baguette and shredded a bit of Swiss cheese. Now, I really had wanted to use Gruyere, but my Safeway only offered a $17 hunk of the stuff, and I did NOT feel like spending that much. You know what I did feel like spending? $3.78 on some Swiss. See? Beggars can’t be choosers, you know. And, it was still good, so don’t shake your head at me and give me that look.

After toasting the cheese on bread in the oven and putting them on top of the soup, the whole thing looked so warm and inviting that I just wanted to hug the bowl close and tell it that I thought it quite a lovely companion on such a windy evening. But my French pretty much stops at bonjour! And au revoir and fromage because cheese is so good, it’s worth knowing how to say in multiple languages.

At this point, Erjona had come home and fixed a pretty radical salad. I poured us both a glass of wine, we caught up on the day, and chatted about our pending move (more on that fun event next time!)

The soup was warm, sweet from the onions, salty, with a hint of winter around it, and the bread and cheese combo on top made it pretty delish. I kind of want to try a version with Chicken rather than Beef stock, but that’s neither here nor there because I have Onion Soup A.D.D. and always want to try a better version of it. However, if anyone has a legit French friend that I can borrow and squeeze recipes out of, let me know. I can woo them with cheese, wine, and the promise of free soup.

But you know what? Maybe February isn’t so bad...especially when you have a few onions, good music, a cozy kitchen and your best friend to ward off chilly nights and fickle weather fronts. Even so, I wouldn't be displeased to have Spring show up a few weeks early (and don't be surprised if my good-weather-mojo-onion soup evening works its magic and we get some warm weather in the next week...)

Next up? No idea. Like I said, we're moving in a week and, as is the case with such events, small details like feeding ourselves come secondary to hauling big and heavy things up and down stairs. I'll let you know, though.

Albania Almighty

2009-01-17T20:38:00.037-05:00

You know, I don’t usually like lamb.

It kind of falls into that realm of “the 3 meats I don’t tend to eat” which, at this point, are: Veal, Lamb, and Pork Chops. Veal for ethical reasons, Lamb because it tastes weird, and Pork chops because they’re boring as all hell. But I digress. In my entire life, there’s been a total of, MAYBE, 2 times I’ve enjoyed lamb.

Like I said, me and Lamb just don’t get on that well. Kind of like peanut butter and pickle sandwiches… we just don’t fit.

Then, something happened.

I discovered, I think, a whole new level of lamb-a-licious deliciousness in the form of something called Tave Tiranse. What is tave tiranse, you ask? I asked myself the same thing. Then I turned and asked my roommate and BFF Erjona (Air-ee-oh-na) because she’s the one who suggested it. Being Albanian and a pretty damn good cook to boot, I figured she could enlighten us all about this mysterious dish from the homeland, and that’s when the ball got rolling as the kids say these days.

You know, I have a lot to thank Albania for.

Not only has it given us the kindness in the form of Mother Teresa, the humor of the Belushi Brothers, and the kick-assedness of Eliza Dushku (does anyone remember seeing her first slay vampires in Buffy???) But most importantly Albania has granted me a great friend in the “lovely and talented” Erjona (as my Father calls her). Now, after 8 years of wanting to try Albanian food, I also have tave tiranse. Yeah. Somehow I lucked out on this whole LIFE deal, and I’m not sure why, but I’m grateful just the same. And it’s time to spread the love, you lucky beasts, you.

Oh…and I’m also kind of obsessed with my rambunctious group of work friends, and had been looking for a way to combine the two “friend-worlds” I’d been balancing myself between, so I decided to bring them together in one night of Mediterranean culinary pursuits. Armed with a bottle of wine each, these guys trooped into the apartment, parked themselves wherever they could find an open seat or window sill, and initiated poor Erjona into our dysfunctionally wonderful family. I, meanwhile, annoyed everyone with the intermittent whir of the food processor as I made some pretty fierce Hummus (while boldly ignoring the dirty looks from those who were actually trying to have conversations), and also subjected everyone to the sweltering heat of the oven as I made Lemon-Roasted potatoes.

What’s that saying about coming out stronger through the fire? Well, I think the heat performed some sort of magical chemical bonding action because the complaints were minimal (if any) and we had a grand ol’ time in such a tiny little space. To add to the din and general goings-on of the evening, I put on Devotchka’s Mad and Faithful Telling Album, mostly because I’m in love with their Eastern-European/Gypsy sound, but also because Erjona said it reminds her of home, and what’s an Albanian dinner with no music? Exactly. It’s just kind of impossible, you see.

I hope I’ve taken long enough to whet your appetite. And now. On to Albania and her majestic culinary traditions!

Before anyone got to the apartment I purchased two absolutely beautiful red bell peppers from the Harris Teeter around the corner. I don’t usually “ooooh” and “aaaah” over bell peppers anywhere, but man… these were gorgeous, and I was excited by such a serendipitous find in the produce section. I cored then chopped them into one-inch pieces and in a big pot, heated up some olive oil and put it on medium-low with a very slight sprinkling of salt. I basically cooked the living life out of these peppers for a solid 35 minutes, and they got nice and soft and turned only a little brown (props to me for not burning them!) I suppose this is similar to what the Italians call a soffrito, a very slow frying process over low heat that softens veggies and allows their flavors to develop.

From new year, new food

That’s when Erjona came home, took over the tave tiranse, and basically made the magic happen

Now, before you go all judgemental on me for not actually making this dish, I decided to be a supporter and feed people in other ways (Hummus! Potatoes!) and watch Erjona’s moves with the accuracy of a hawk. And this is what I witnessed:

After taking some lamb chops and cutting them away from the bone, she removed the excess fat, cut them into one-inch pieces, then added the lamb to the peppers on the stove and browned the meat.

From new year, new food

Roni then added a can of diced tomatoes and let it stew for a good bit.

From new year, new food

THEN she took a large block of feta cheese, crumbled it up into the pot, and let the whole thing simmer for good hot minute, tasted the dish for salt, and added some freshly cracked pepper.

We found a ceramic square dish, poured in the stew, and baked it at 400 degrees for a solid twenty minutes or so till it got a little brown on top and looked like the most delicious thing I’d seen in weeks. Roni tortured us all a bit more and let it cool on a windowsill for about 12 minutes to let things settle down a bit.

From new year, new food

And then…then my opinion changed forever regarding lamb.

It was a warm, slightly sweet dish from the peppers, but with a good hearty acidity from the tomatoes and saltiness from the feta. And the lamb? It was melt-in-your mouth good. I mean, I tried to chew it, but it just kept being all great and dissolving in my mouth like warm butter on hot bread, and I was simply forced to get two helpings. And the lamb didn’t taste weird at all! All of us grew quiet for a second or two (a miracle by itself), until someone piped up that this was going into their permanent recipe arsenal and everyone started talking about how fantastic it was all at once.

Mostly I couldn’t believe that something THIS GOOD came from about 5 ingredients and just a bit of effort and stove/oven time.

Make sure you have some crusty bread to mop up all the delicious juice with. We ate it with spoons, almost like a stew, and in this arctic weather we’re currently experiencing on the East side of the country, I can’t think of a heartier way to warm up those winter-chilled bones of yours.

You can thank me, Erjona, (and Albania) later.

From new year, new food

**As a side note, I’d like to point out there has been a large discussion in Erjona’s family regarding the actual name of the dish. Her mom, Merita, thinks it’s fergese tiranse, while Erjona and another cousin swear up and down that it is, indeed, tave tiranse. Literally, this has taken days and at least one trans-Atlantic phone call to the motherland and still has yet to be determined. I think after a record Googling session, Erjona decided that this was, actually, tave tiranse and not the usurper summer dish, fergese tiranse. Despite the dissension amidst my favorite Albanian family ranks, I just want to say Thanks Mama Merita for the recipe, and I’ll be calling soon for more Albanian dishes!

Cuba Libre- Parte 1

2008-12-16T23:56:00.007-05:00

I’ve only had Cuban food once in my life, somewhere in the San Diego area about 4 years ago. All I remember is some amazing roast chicken, black beans, and that it completely rocked out with its socks out. I thought it was high time to try making it myself with the very helpful and capable hands (and family recipes) of Terra, friend and fellow food lover. Side note: Terra is half Cuban and had never made these recipes on her own before, and the recipes were emailed from her sweet and awesome Mama. Gracias Mami!

Of course, because it was Cuba Libre night and we’d invited Terra’s friends Jen and Chris over, we decided to start the evening out with a pitcher of Mojitos. For some reason, I’ve really disliked Mojitos for the majority of my drinking life, and I’m not sure why, because now I think they’re absolutely fabulous.

Mojito time! I crushed mint leaves with lime juice and sugar at the bottom of a pitcher, added some rum and ice, poured it in glasses, and finished it off with a nice splash of club soda. Very refreshing, and it made everyone talkative, happy, and not angry at all that they now had to wait for the meal from scratch. I must say, time seems to fly when you’re having a Cuba Libre night and food is cooking and the Gran Hotel Buenos Aires album by Federico Aubele is humming in the background. And YES I know Buenos Aires is in Argentina. And sounds nothing like salsa music in Havana, but don’t hate. Anyway.

From 2008

We decided to make Natilla, a Spanish egg-custard because it would need time to set if we wanted it for dessert. Terra’s mama had given strict instructions to CONTINUALLY STIR the milk, egg, vanilla, and sugar mixture…which I did. However, it was put into a too-small saucepan, and boiled over and everything smelled like burnt marshmallows. Terra argued that it had boiled over, thus it had boiled to the point of being able to set and thicken in the fridge. I argued that it did not actually boil, but got all hot and bothered and had just runneth over. We decided to try our luck and put it in the fridge and kept our fingers crossed. More on the Natilla That Refused To Set later! (Hope I didn’t give too much away.)

From 2008

Next came lots of chopping of onions, tomatoes, green peppers, and garlic. Terra was in charge of the Yellow Rice and I was pleasantly surprised when the recipe called for beer. Who’s ever had beer rice? Not me! Unfortunately, our fridge only offered Corona or Bud Light (nice… thanks go to Natalie, my sister, for those choices). Terra sautéed all the veggies, added some Corona, chicken broth, and the rice and let it cook. By now the burnt marshmallows smell was taken over by the Beer Rice, something we all preferred.

Meanwhile I kept chopping the exact same veggies for the Picadillo, which is basically just ground beef cooked up with lots of delish things and typically served with potatoes or Yellow Rice. So, I sautéed said veggies, added the meat, lots of seasoning of garlic powder, salt, pepper, bay leaves and oregano. We let that cook a bit, added half a can of tomato sauce and some white wine vinegar, and let the liquid boil away as we continually tasted it for seasoning and salt. Terra also cut up some plantains and fried them in veggie oil, then salted them after they turned a beautiful coffee-brown color in the pan.

From 2008

At this point, the Natilla had not set in the fridge, so we put the old gal in the freezer for good luck, which it needed a lot of. I hoped that my magical sprinkling of cinnamon would do something for it (which it did not. Ugh.)

The rice, it turned out, had too much liquid in it and had gotten kind of mushy. We decided at this point that it was because we had not accounted for the beer in the recipe and had put a cup too much of liquid, which might have well been my fault as when Terra was adding chicken stock to the rice, I started an argument about how many ounces were in a cup and how many ounces were needed for the recipe and what “use as much water as you would rice” would translate to in measurements. As this is only the second time I’ve made rice and completely forgot everything my G-Ma had taught me with the Pulao, I think I distracted the undistractable Terra. My bad, big T!

From 2008

The food: was okay. The yellow mushy rice, while it had a good flavor, was just that. Mushy. I got a little tired of the texture after a few bites. The plantains needed to have been really ripe, which they were not. I was hoping they’d be like the soft plantains I’m obsessed with from Ghana, but these little guys were too hard and more like a thick, chewy, chip. The Picadillo came out the best, and I can only imagine how good it would be if I wasn’t an idiot and could make rice correctly. The Mojitos made everything better, by the by, I HIGHLY suggest making a pitcher (or two, like we did) when you have your own Cuban food night.

And the Natilla? We decided to drop the idea of eating it that night, and thought maybe an entire night in the fridge would edge it along to custard heaven. The next morning I noticed it had kind of set on top, but never did anything more than that. It did taste good when I dipped my finger in it, but alas! I ended up having to throw the whole thing away and it made me sad for what-could-have-been, and how me and the Natilla just didn’t find a way to make it work. Sniff. Maybe the timing just wasn’t right, and maybe our paths will cross again in the future, but for now I have to just let it go and hope for the best…and the foresight to use a bigger saucepan next time.

Overall, I’d say it was a really FUN night rather than a culinary success. Mostly I’m looking forward to making some more of Terra’s Mami’s recipes without destroying them. Of the 4 dishes we scored a hit with One, and one outta 4 ain’t bad, folks. Unless you understand math, and then it is, but whatever, I was an English major.

Up next…. Not sure. I’m transitioning to DC and my BFF Erjona has promised me some sweet Albanian recipes, so I think it's time we trekked our tasted buds to that fun and surprising land across the sea! Or whatever else I feel like eating over the holidays. I love surprises.