Sometimes You Just Gotta...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.