Medium White T-Shirts

A few years ago in an Obama profile in the New York Times, it was revealed that Mr. President and his then-Chief of Staff, Rahm Emanuel, when overwhelmed with the enormous task of leading our country, would contemplate opening a shop in Hawaii that sold one item, in one size -- white t-shirts, size medium. No decisions would need to be made, ever, for the consumer and, more importantly, the shopkeep. Ever since, when Jeff and I are feeling lazy about dinner we say we’re in the mood for the same, medium white t-shirts.

A night like this can veer in several directions. We could end at our favorite takeout sushi place: spicy tuna for me, salmon rolls for him. We could scrounge our cupboards and refrigerator for leftovers, ingredients, and creative inspiration. Or somebody could give in, go to the grocery store, and make one of our kitchen staples. For the last five weeks, that staple has been a simplified version of Aunt Raffy’s Quinoa and Ceci Soup.

The first time we made this soup, years ago, we followed the recipe exactly as written. Like most puréed soups the process begins with a vegetable sauté before adding stock, bringing everything to a boil, and simmering. If this were a standard recipe, it would then be puréed with an immersion blender. However, Raffy and Giada’s recipe calls for removing the cooked vegetables from the stock and blending separately. Meanwhile, quinoa is added to the liquid and cooked, then the vegetables poured back in, and everything mixed together. The quinoa remains whole in an otherwise completely blended soup, creating a wonderful textural difference I’d like to also try with other whole grains.

That being said, on a weeknight, particularly a medium white t-shirts weeknight, we like to skip that extra step. The quinoa is added with the liquid and becomes part of the final purée. It’s an amplified version of adding a few tablespoons of brown rice or farro to a puréed soup, a trick to add a creamy texture without cream. In my mind I’ve been calling it shrimp and grits soup, because the blended quinoa and chickpeas create a thick, grits-like texture, particularly after the soup has sat for a day and thickened; I want to spread it on a plate and top with grilled shrimp. I’ve also been referring to this as the new tomato soup, because it’s excellent with a grilled cheese sandwich for dipping. You come up with a lot of nicknames when you make the same thing five weeks in a row.

The repetition has worked out well for us. You see, we’ve had other things on our mind, namely our honeymoon to Hawaii starting in two days and four hours (but who’s counting). Our evenings have been spent booking tee times and boat tours, making dinner reservations, reading about the best places to hike in western Maui, packing and shopping, and more packing and shopping.

We might never come home, and if that’s the case please visit us at our shop: Medium White T-Shirts.

QUINOA AND CECI SOUP, inspired by Giada de Laurentiis

You’ll need:
2 tbsp olive oil
Salt & pepper
1 onion, chopped
3 carrots, chopped
3 celery stalks, chopped
4 tomatoes, seeds removed and chopped
1 can of chickpeas, rinsed and drained
1/2 cup of quinoa
1 pint of vegetable stock
A few sprigs of thyme
1 parmesan rind (if available)

Heat olive oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add the onion, carrots, and celery, and season with salt and pepper. Cook until starting to soften, about 5-10 minutes. Add the tomatoes, chickpeas, quinoa, vegetable stock, thyme, and parmesan rind. If necessary, add water until everything is just barely covered. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for about 15-20 minutes, until quinoa is cooked and vegetables are fully softened. Remove the thyme sprigs and parmesan rind. Use an immersion blender to purée.

Jealousy-Inducing Breakfast Sandwiches

When I worked at a bakery I learned that success partly comes from using a limited set of ingredients to create a wide array of offerings.  

A sweet apricot filling can be piped into a strudel or folded into the center of a cookie. A batch of toasted pecans can fill a pie or be rolled with raisins into sourdough and baked into a dense breakfast loaf. Caramelized onions can top a loaf of rye bread or be pocketed into hamburger buns. Lemon curd can be used in great bounty to fill a classic lemon tart, or spread lightly in between the layers of a chiffon cake. A finished loaf of brioche can be sold as is, or sliced and baked again with almond frangipane to make a delicious bostock pastry. If the brioche loaf doesn’t sell, it can be left to stale, then toasted and ground into bread crumbs, and sprinkled into the apricot strudel to add structure and crunch.

How much can you do with how little?

Success in cooking at home is based on this same principle.  

We make Jeff’s Spicy Pesto Pasta once every couple weeks. There’s always leftover pesto, which we stir into scrambled eggs, pour onto simply grilled vegetables, mix with whole grains to make lunch salads, or spread onto Mushroom Toasts. Last Saturday, Jeff added the pesto to his post-workout breakfast sandwich, and I was jealous. I had opted to have just scrambled eggs, and I knew he was enjoying the better meal. Thankfully I didn’t have to wait long for my own taste; we shared one the following day for a light dinner.

POACHED EGG SANDWICHES WITH PESTO AND AVOCADO

Toast 2 slices of your chosen bread (we usually use a rustic white loaf or sourdough) according to your chosen method (I like to use a square griddle pan on the stove top).

Meanwhile, poach 2 eggs.***

To assemble the sandwich, spread a layer of pesto on one slice of toast. Add the poached eggs. Top with sliced avocado. Finish with the other layer of toast. Slice in half and enjoy.

***I can only poach eggs using a tool, specifically the Oxo Silicone Egg Poacher. For years I’ve tried poaching eggs without the tool, using tricks I learned on the internet -- add some vinegar to the pot, swirl the water as you add the eggs -- and I’ve never had success. Jamie Oliver, in his video demonstration of poaching eggs, says something along the lines of, If you have great eggs this will usually work most of the time. That doesn’t inspire confidence in me, nor does it indicate a high success rate, so for now I use the tool.  

To do so, place the poachers in a large pot and fill with water to the indicated stopping line. Bring the water to a boil. (There’s some debate about how vigorous this should be. I store my eggs in the refrigerator, and when I add them to the pot they will quickly drop the temperature of the water. For this reason I bring the water to a vigorous boil. Otherwise it gets too cold too fast and the eggs will spread instead of cooking quickly.) Meanwhile, crack each egg into a small bowl. When vigorously boiling, pour each egg into one of the poachers. At this point I do turn the water down slightly (say from 9 to 8). Cook until your desired doneness: for runny eggs, about 3 minutes, for a slightly firm/slightly soft texture, about 5 minutes. The water may foam up around the poachers; that’s ok, just lift the pot for a few seconds to settle it, and return to the heat.

For Pizza Night: Kale and Cabbage Salad with Tahini Dressing

I pulled into the gas station last Friday morning and heard on the news that Peter Tork had passed away. Had I heard this news on Thursday morning it would have gone unnoticed, but since it was Friday morning, the day after a new Spilled Milk episode was released, I thought, “Ohh, the Monkees.” In their typical quest to run with a food topic “as far as they can go--and, regrettably, sometimes further,” hosts Matthew and Molly linked their podcast discussion about packaged yogurt to the radio show Car Talk, then naturally to horsepower and torque, then to Peter Tork, of course, and their favorite Monkees songs.

That evening, while unwinding after work to the most recent episode of Jeopardy, Mr. Trebek presented this clue: Fried wonton strips, mandarin orange, & sesame dressing are key ingredients in this poultry salad. “WHAT IS ASIAN CHICKEN SALAD!  BOOM!” I shouted in victory to my television. I paused the show to send a picture of the clue to Jeff and my sister with the caption, “DID YOU READ MY BLOG YESTERDAY?!” I had just published a love letter to this very dish.

I took these incidents to mean one of two things. Either I could expect a third food-related coincidence to appear soon. Or, since my trivia knowledge was on point, I should head to a game at a local bar. It seemed I was a shoo-in to at least go home with a growler, if not a $100 gift card. But, I didn’t go to a bar; I stayed home and made pizzas. And unless you count spending $15 for a $25 certificate to a local bakery at an auction benefiting my former high school, there were no food miracles this weekend.

It was the first time I had ever hosted make-your-own-pizza night, and I relied heavily on my friend Kristen to supply the ingredients, equipment, and instruction. I was in charge of salad and made a version of an old favorite, Heidi Swanson’s Kale and Pecorino Salad. I think it’s the perfect pizza accompaniment. The dark greens provide a healthy balance to the bread and cheese, and the tahini-based dressing is Caesar-like enough to be familiar but also fresh. I love this salad so much I made it again to bring to work on Monday. Though, if you need to talk to your coworkers after eating this salad, I recommend reducing the shallot by half and leaving out the green onions entirely.

KALE AND CABBAGE SALAD WITH TAHINI DRESSING, inspired by Heidi Swanson

For the dressing, you’ll need:
1 small shallot, finely chopped
The juice of 1 small lemon
1/3 cup olive oil
2 tsp tahini
2 tsp honey
Salt to taste

For the salad, you’ll need:
1 bunch of kale, finely shredded
1/3 head of cabbage, finely shredded

Optional additions:
2/3 cups shredded pecorino cheese
3 green onions, finely sliced
1 cup toasted pecans, chopped
15 green olives, chopped

To make the dressing, add the shallot to the lemon juice and let sit for at least 5 minutes, then mix in the olive oil, tahini, honey, and salt.  Add the kale and cabbage to a large bowl. Pour over the dressing and toss to combine. Add the pecorino cheese, if using, and toss to combine. Add the green onions, toasted pecans, and green olives over the top, if using.

6:31am Regrets and Carrot Ginger Dressing

A few Fridays ago Jeff and I headed up north to Traverse City to relax, drink wine [Exhibits A, B, and C], and go snowshoeing. The forecast was snowy, a positive if you plan to snowshoe, a negative if the drive to your destination takes over four hours. The cold, windy, slippery, white drive into town put our arrival past 8:00pm. Add to that the fact that we needed to walk on the hotel treadmills after such a drive, and we were finally ready to get dinner right at the time when restaurants were closing. Bars, however, were open, which is how we came to order carryout from Mackinaw Brewing Company, and ate at the small table in our hotel room overlooking Grand Traverse Bay.

I ordered a Grilled Asian Chicken Salad, for no reason other than I wanted to keep this late-night dinner light. I certainly wasn’t looking for a dish to transport me back to my teenage years. But the combination of romaine, a simply grilled chicken breast, crunchy rice noodles, and mandarin oranges did just that. Suddenly I was fourteen, at Max and Erma’s restaurant, and about to head to a showing of 10 Things I Hate About You. This salad tastes like a throwback, and I wanted it again in my present day. I resolved to make a version for my work lunches the following week, and I would start with my favorite carrot ginger dressing.

When I started dating Jeff I also started to eat a lot more sushi. I love to start a meal with a salad, so the beginning of our relationship also marked my introduction to the simple salad with carrot ginger dressing served at many Asian restaurants. I learned I really love a carrot ginger dressing and so have been regularly making Gwyneth Paltrow’s version over the last few years. The recipe is perfect as written, but I make substitutes with what I have on hand. No shallot, I add garlic or onion or scallion. No miso, I just leave it out and maybe add more carrots and less water. No grapeseed oil, I add sunflower oil. It’s about flavor, not authenticity, and since according to lore on the internet Asian Chicken Salad is decidedly American in base, it’s ok to do what you want here.  

I managed to find the time and energy to grocery shop the day after vacation and quickly mix up the dressing, but I stopped short of actually assembling a packable lunch. Regret hit me at 6:31 the following morning when I realized I would have to do a dreadful midday lunch pickup unless I quickly got my act together. Who brings unwashed, uncut kale to work with them? Just me? I threw a bunch into my extra-large lunch box. I also cut a breast off of a store-bought rotisserie chicken at 6:32am, opened and drained a can of mandarin oranges at 6:33am, packed both in separate containers and added them to the bag with the kale, the dressing, and a package of crispy rice noodles direct from the “international” aisle at my local Kroger. When lunch time rolled around I assembled it all in the stainless steel bowl that lives in my bottom desk drawer. And that’s how you turn regret into success.

CARROT GINGER DRESSING inspired by Gwyneth Paltrow

Add 1 large carrot (peeled and roughly chopped), 1 large shallot (peeled and chopped), 2 tbsp roughly chopped ginger, 1 tbsp white miso, 2 tbsb rice vinegar, 1 tbsp toasted sesame oil, 1/4 cup grapeseed oil, and about 2 tbsp water to a food processor. Blend until smooth.

Start With a Recipe, Let Your Pantry Lead the Way

Home cooking is about simplicity and economy, and that explains why I tend to deviate from written recipes. It’s a running joke that when someone asks me for a recipe I respond, “Sure I can give it to you, but it comes with notes on all my changes.” But much like my Weeknight Vegetable Guideline, when cooking at home I believe you have to let your pantry lead the way. Otherwise you’ll find yourself making daily trips to the grocery store. And who has time for that? As much as I’d like to be an elegant French woman who picks up a daily baguette at the boulangerie, a wedge of brie at the fromagerie, and a few slices of jambon from the charcuterie, I’m not. I’m not going to obsess about a lack of parsley or carrots or quinoa just because a recipe calls for their use. Instead I’ll look at what else I have on hand and improvise. Start with a recipe, let your pantry lead the way.

This is how I came to make excellent variations of two my favorite dishes. Mushroom Toasts with Ricotta and Herbs became Mushroom Toasts with Pesto and Parmesan, and the Sweet Potato Green Chile Quesadilla became the Chipotle Potato Quesadilla. Both are on their way to becoming repeats.

MUSHROOM TOASTS WITH PESTO AND PARMESAN

Toast your preferred artisan bread in the oven (instructions here). Meanwhile, sauté mushrooms in olive oil, salt, and pepper until dark brown, shrunken, and liquid evaporates. Spread a thick layer of pesto on each toast (hopefully you have this pesto leftover), cover with mushrooms, and top with grated parmesan. Put toasts back into the oven for about 2-3 minutes, until parmesan melts slightly.

CHIPOTLE POTATO QUESADILLA

Preheat oven to 425.  Wrap one large potato in foil and place on a baking sheet. Bake until soft all the way through, approximately one hour. Let cool, then refrigerate overnight, or until you are ready to make the quesadilla. Cut the cooked potato in half and scoop the flesh into the bowl of a food processor. Add 1-2 chipotle peppers from a can (depending on your spice preference and how hot they are) and a pinch of salt. Process until very smooth. Meanwhile, heat a griddle on the stovetop to medium / medium-high heat and lightly oil. Spread about 3/4 cup of the potato purée on one whole-wheat tortilla. Cover with another whole-wheat tortilla. Toast on the griddle about 2-3 minutes per side.

Everyday Cake: Yeah, Right.

It’s a charming idea to sit down to a slice of pound cake topped with jam and whipped cream daily at 3:30pm. I always imagine this scenario at an antique whitewashed kitchen table in the breakfast nook of an old farmhouse overlooking rolling hills and roaming horses somewhere in Vermont. It’s just too perfect. Some people can eat a slice of cake every day and not show it on their hips, waist, arms, face, big toe — and those people are incredibly lucky. But for me the concept of an “everyday cake” is entirely too optimistic, and as such I’ve baked very few cakes in my life.

I have a favorite apple cake that I enjoy making once a fall, and I have a bundt cake pan that I mostly use to make Zingerman’s incredible Sour Cream Coffee Cakes to give as gifts. It was just last year when I made my first birthday cake ever, a vanilla cake with brown butter icing and a lot of sprinkles for my sister. And I made my second earlier this month for my own birthday, a classic yellow cake with chocolate frosting. (Jeff did the decorating as we’ve learned that his care and attention to detail are perfectly suited for this task. It was gorgeous.)

Enter Claudia Roden’s Orange Almond Cake. This is a very special cake. The recipe calls for two whole oranges to be boiled in water for two hours, then puréed — peels included — into a pulp. This, along with eggs, is the entirety of the wet ingredients. As for the dry ingredients, ground almonds are mixed with sugar and baking powder. That’s it! When all are combined you’re left with a very wet dough, which — almost unbelievably — bakes into a cake after an hour in a warm oven. Serve it warm to enjoy the contrast of crisp, brown corners against a soft, pudding-like center. Or, it’s also excellent cold, surprisingly refreshing. It also happens to be vegan and (edit from the future: It is so not! There are 6 eggs! #typo) gluten free, which are not requirements of my everyday general eating, but perhaps of my everyday cake eating. Though if you do happen to have a slice on the weekend, I encourage you to add a dollop of fresh whipped cream.

ORANGE ALMOND CAKE via Claudia Roden via Food52 Genius Recipes

Boil 2 whole large oranges in a pot on the stove for 2 hours. Allow to cool. Cut open and take out any seeds. Purée in a food processor until smooth. Preheat oven to 400. Combine 2 cups plus 2 tbsp ground almonds (I always grind whole almonds in a food processor), 1 cup plus 1 tbsp sugar, and 1 tsp baking powder in a large bowl. In a separate bowl, combine the orange purée and 6 eggs. Add the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir to combine. Pour the batter into a 9” springform pan. Bake for approximately one hour, until the cake is starting to turn a dark brown, a toothpick inserted comes out clean, and it smells like a Christmas wreath in your kitchen.

Celebration Broccoli Soup

They say if a new cookbook yields one keeper recipe, then it was a worthwhile purchase. In that case, Healthyish, which so far is two for two and I received it as a Christmas gift, is like winning the lottery. Who opens their presents and thinks: can’t wait to cook some broccoli! Just me? The day after Christmas I made Cheesy Broccoli and Pea Soup, and if 2018 was the year of the puréed vegetable soup, then this version was an appropriate send-off to the new year. It was so excellent that I considered it again the following week for my birthday dinner, only taking it off the menu because of a self-imposed rule that all recipes be new to me. Celebration Broccoli Soup, who knew there was such thing?!

Here’s what caught my attention:

1. The call for frozen vegetables. It’s not like I forgot about the existence of frozen broccoli, and it’s not that you couldn’t use fresh broccoli in place, but I needed a reminder of how useful frozen vegetables can be. Open bag, pour into pot, done.

2. The use of an interesting spice, and the use of it in an interesting way. I’ve always thought of caraway seeds solely as the flavor agent of rye bread, and I never would have paired it with parmesan. The combination has me rethinking all past assumptions about spice, and I’ll be poking around my cabinet a little more now.

3. The use of a parmesan rind. I truly think this is such a special ingredient; it adds a savory, comforting essence without unloading cups of shredded cheese. The only problem is availability. No offense to a full wedge of parmesan cheese, but sometimes I only want the backside. I’d like to do the impossible, figure out a way to manufacture and sell just the rind. I’d be rich.  

Broccoli has a bad rap for a reason, I believe. It can be boring, bland, mushy, harsh, and “too healthy.” But not this way, the Healthyish way. This is the way to eat broccoli.  

CELEBRATION BROCCOLI SOUP, adapted from Healthyish by Lindsay Maitland Hunt

You’ll need:
3 tbsp olive oil
2 onions chopped
1 tsp caraway seeds, crushed (I did so in a mortar and pestle)
Salt and pepper
2 pints vegetable stock
1 parmesan rind (if available)
1 bag frozen peas (my store carries 12oz size)
3 bags frozen broccoli (my store carries 12oz size)
2 tbsp lemon juice

Heat the oil in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium heat.  Add onion, caraway seed, 1-1/2 tsp of salt, and 1/2 tsp freshly ground pepper. Cook, stirring often, until onions are soft and beginning to caramelize, about 10 minutes. Add broccoli, parmesan rind, and vegetable stock (until barely starting to cover the broccoli, may need slightly less than the full 2 pints). Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer for about 12 minutes. Add peas and cook for about 1 more minute. Remove from heat, let cool slightly, and use an immersion blender to purée. Add lemon juice, stir, and serve.

Red Wine Poached Pears: My Favorite Afterthought

To celebrate every New Year, Jeff and I like to cook an elaborate meal. We turn down party invitations, decide against any ideas of dining out, pull out our cookbooks, and write a menu. Over the years we’ve recreated favorite restaurant dishes, borrowed ideas from renowned chefs, purchased equipment, invented recipes, and tried new things and succeeded — from seared scallops and potato gnocchi to smoked salmon tartare and cider gougères. A fitting way to start a new year.  

The course of this annual meal that has received the least of our attention, however, has been dessert. Either we have forgotten about it entirely or hastily picked up treats from our local Italian bakery. When we’ve remembered, the plan has always been to make red wine poached pears. Though in both instances we still lacked foresight; the recipe calls for the pears to be soaked overnight in a red wine-based syrup, but we didn’t start cooking until mid-afternoon on the day of the feast. The first year we celebrated our New Year’s dessert on January 3rd, and then next time shared them at a later dinner with Jeff’s parents.

The pears are so good, though, the perfect dessert to close out your holiday season, sweet but not heavy, fruity and in the direction of January’s retreat. Best served with vanilla gelato (or, accidentally, peach gelato, if your local Italian bakery happens to have a labeling issue). Whatever your timeline, allow the pears their process. They are absolutely worth waiting for.

RED WINE POACHED PEARS

Use a vegetable peeler to remove the skin from four pears of your choice (we used  Bartlett and Bosc). In a medium pot, mix together one bottle of red wine (something you would drink, we used a Merlot/Syrah blend from Trader Joe’s), four cups of sugar, the peel of one lemon, the peel of one orange, one cinnamon stick, one star anise, and two cloves. Add the pears to the pot. Bring to a boil, then reduce and simmer until the pears are very soft and cooked through, at least one hour. Remove the pears and set aside. Return the pot to a boil and cook on high until red wine mixture is reduced and syrapy, perhaps about twenty minutes. Allow to cool slightly, then remove the fruit peels and spices. Place the pears in a medium bowl. Pour all of the syrup over the pears. Cover and refrigerate overnight. Serve each pear with a scoop of vanilla gelato and a drizzle of the syrup.

Four-Ingredient Dinner (If You Count Salt)

Over the years I’ve read a lot about thirty-minute meals and the ensuing backlash (Not realistic! Impossible! Lies!). This recipe is both an answer to the debate and part of the problem. In fact, I would go so far as to call it a fifteen-minute meal, except that it’s also not. It’s a fifteen-minute meal if you have the foresight to bake a large sweet potato at least one day in advance. If not, then it’s a two-hour meal, and also a waste of time. So I’ll express the simplicity of this recipe differently: it’s a four-ingredient dinner, and that’s if the tally includes salt.  

It’s a version of the Cheese-Free Sweet Potato Quesadilla from Serious Eats, reformatted to my tastes. J. Kenji Lopez-Alt calls for mashing the sweet potato with a fork; I prefer the super creamy texture achieved by way of food processor. He uses pickled jalapeños; I prefer the mild green chiles that come in the small can and are on every grocery store’s shelves for $0.99. He adds scallions and cilantro; I leave them out. My pared-down quesadilla isn’t going to win any food awards, unless James Beard announces a category for Fastest Cheapest Surprisingly Incredible Weeknight Dinner. After a long day at the office, followed by an evening workout, when my hair is wet from the shower and I’m trying to throw together a homemade dinner, so that I can just move to the couch as quickly as possible, thus allowing time for one episode of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel before I start to fall asleep, that’s all I want.

EASY CHEESE-FREE SWEET POTATO QUESADILLA

Preheat oven to 425. Wrap one large sweet potato in foil and place on a baking sheet. Bake until soft all the way through, approximately one hour. Let cool, then refrigerate overnight, or until you are ready to make the quesadilla. Cut the cooked sweet potato in half and scoop the flesh into the bowl of a food processor. Add one 4.5-oz can of mild green chiles and a pinch of salt. Process until smooth (and I like it very smooth, so the creaminess can make up for the lack of cheese). Meanwhile, heat a griddle on the stovetop to medium / medium-high heat and lightly oil. Spread about 3/4 cup of sweet potato puree on one whole-wheat tortilla. Cover with another whole-wheat tortilla. Toast on the griddle about 2-3 minutes per side.

My First Favorite Recipe: Spaghetti Squash Gratin with Mushrooms and Spinach

I rented my first apartment during my senior year of college. With the campus dining hall suddenly absent to fall back on, for the first time in my life I had to fend meals for myself. I remember throwing packaged lettuce into a bowl and calling it salad, warming frozen hamburger patties on the stove (not on a grill, or even a grill pan), and eating some combination of eggs and toast for perhaps 40% of my dinners. A friend taught me to make twice-baked sweet potatoes with Greek yogurt, and that became a repeat. I also remember spending way too much money at the grocery store; when we moved out my roommates and I discovered no fewer than three bottles of Hidden Valley Ranch in our refrigerator.  

When I moved to Chicago, my new roommate’s mom asked me if I liked to cook, and I told her I did. This strikes me as hilarious now, because warming packaged frozen hamburger patties is decidedly not cooking. But the desire and spirit were there with every scrambled egg and every grocery store salad covered in ranch. My habits didn’t change until three years later, during my last year in Chicago, when I finally decided to be my own teacher. I pulled together lessons from Cooking Light Magazine and early blogs and began my culinary education.

To celebrate, I started with dessert. I made a blackberry lemon chiffon pie on New Year’s Day 2010, and it was the first thing I ever cooked with intention and curiosity. I remember stepping out to buy a springform pan and a candy thermometer that day because the recipe called for it and I wasn’t cutting corners  I opened all the blinds in my 29th floor apartment and stood in my kitchen in the bright winter’s light reading, pouring, mixing, spreading, heating, and cooling with much excitement. In the end the dessert was just ok. I think I had to whip egg whites, which I no doubt did by hand, unaware that my chance of success had naturally slipped. The final step was to freeze the pie to set the layers, though it was gooey and shapeless when I later cut a slice. Nevertheless my pride was sky high.  

That winter I also recall cooking butternut squash risotto in a microwave, veggie burgers held together by mayonnaise, and gazpacho with an orange juice base during snow season. I bought my first cookbook, Classic Lebanese Cuisine, and made a feast for my Chicago friends that tasted just like Dearborn, Michigan, also known as home, a place I was dearly starting to miss. There was also a valiant attempt at empanadas after visiting Lito’s in Lincoln Park, and an incident involving my thumb, a cheese grater, and a permanent scar. Though none of these dishes became repeats for me, I was certainly fearless in my attempts. Thinking about it now, I marvel at my adventurous, open mind. I knew nothing about cooking, therefore nothing was outside of my comfort zone. Maybe in 2019, in the spirit of early adulthood Jess, I will again try lamb and pork at home.

Spaghetti squash was also new to me in 2010. (Friend: “I’m making spaghetti squash tonight.” Me: “What’s that?” Friend: “You don’t know what spaghetti squash is?! You must come over for dinner.”) So delighted was I by this weird vegetable that I immediately began experimenting with it in my own kitchen. I found it to be pretty bland on its own, and the obvious choice of serving it with a sauce as you would pasta didn’t work for me either, I think because there’s so much liquid in the squash itself that adding any extra made it gloppy. But double baking it into a gratin, now that is the perfect vehicle. It somewhat follows the same formula as a twice-baked potato -- bake, add extras, bake again -- the long oven time allowing the excess moisture to dissipate and the squash to take on the flavor of the mix-ins. Of all the food I tried during that first year of cooking, this is the only recipe that made it to my permanent repertoire. It’s the type of dish that can accommodate any vegetable, cheese, or herb lingering in your kitchen. My favorite combination includes mushrooms, spinach, and gruyere, but by all means, make this when you need to clean out your refrigerator.

SPAGHETTI SQUASH GRATIN WITH MUSHROOMS AND SPINACH, inspired by Martha Rose Shulman at the New York Times

You’ll need:
1 large spaghetti squash
2 tbsp olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
1 8-oz package of mushrooms, chopped
2-3 large handfuls of spinach, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
Salt
Freshly ground pepper
3 large eggs
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup gruyere cheese, grated
2 tbsp parmesan cheese, grated

Cook spaghetti squash, preferably at least one day in advance. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Place spaghetti squash on baking sheet and bake for about one hour, turning every 20 minutes, until it is soft and easy to cut through.  Remove from heat and allow to cool. Cut squash in half lengthwise. Scoop out seeds and discard. Then scoop out flesh into spaghetti-like strands as best you can and place and place in a bowl. At this point you can cover and refrigerate or continue.

Heat olive oil in large skillet over medium heat. Add onion and a generous pinch of salt and cook through. Add mushrooms and cook through. Add spinach until wilted. Add garlic and cook, stirring, for about one minute. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Add to bowl with spaghetti squash and stir until evenly combined.

Beat eggs in a large bowl. Add milk, gruyere, and 1/2 tsp of salt and stir to combine. Add to squash mixture and stir to combine.

The mixture can be baked in one large dish (perhaps about 8x8 square or the equivalent) or several smaller dishes. I like to divide the mixture between 4-6 individual ramekins, depending on how much I have. Pour into selected dish(es) and sprinkle with parmesan cheese. Bake at 375 for about 40 minutes. Remove and let cool for about 15 minutes. These are delicious warm, at room temperature, or as cold leftovers.

A Title to Defend: Aperol Spritz Cookies

I spent hours last Sunday strategizing for my friend Kristen’s annual Christmas cookie party. Last year I made German lebkuchen, photoshopped my face onto a Fräulein, and won the “Most Spirited” contest. This year I have a title to defend, and I hear via text message that certain friends-of-friend are eager to dethrone me.

The party is a classic cookie exchange; bring a batch of your favorite cookies, and leave with an assortment. The idea is that each person brings one type of cookie, but as reigning champion I cannot let my defenses down. I’m bringing four. From Sister Pie, I plucked the idea of cocktail-themed cookie platter and started with a Brandy Shortbread. I quickly latched onto the idea of a Mulled Wine Thumbprint as a second option, and successfully combined recipes from Dorie Greenspan’s excellent Cookies book to do so. Finally, I thought the sweetness of amaretto would be a nice substitute for vanilla extract in a stylish sablé. When I learned that amaretto liqueur is often made from apricot pits, I decided to mix chopped dried apricots and toasted almonds into a basic shortbread dough with an amaretto glaze. I love the idea, but my finished Amaretto Apricot Shortbread still needs a little work. (If I had time I would reimagine them as a soft, nutty ball and perhaps crystalize dried apricots to gently place on top.) I’m hoping that the entirety of my entry can carry me to victory -- much like in the Great British Baking Show one can lose the “technical challenge” and still be crowned Star Baker.

I had a name for my presentation -- Holiday Spirits Trio -- and I thought I was done, but my frequent visits to the liquor cabinet this week had me eyeing the aperol. The color palette of my cookie plate was neutral with pops of pink, burgundy, and yellow-orange. Wouldn’t the bright orange of the aperol complement and complete the artistry? I’ve got to find a way to make aperol spritz cookies, I’ve got to find a way to make aperol spritz cookies… wait... isn’t there something called a “spritz cookie?” Google: spritz cookies, from the German word spritzen, meaning “to squirt,” are traditional butter cookies shaped by pushing the dough through a cookie press. Ahhh, yes. What if I spritzed sugar cookie Christmas trees and covered them in an aperol glaze with sprinkle “ornaments?” Christmas cookies are a chance to be a bit whimsical and the aperol spritz was my drink of the year. It seemed fitting. Wouldn’t that be cute and, far more importantly, delicious?

Years ago I attended a wedding shower where the bride-to-be received a cookie press. She held up the gift and excitedly thanked the giver, and I heard someone mumble in the background, when is she ever going to use that? I get it. Single-use kitchen gadgets accumulate and -- essentially by definition -- are rarely used. On the other hand, if I didn’t own a tortilla press, I wouldn’t have my cauliflower tacos. Nobody balks at a waffle maker and it is perhaps the most expensive and bulky single-use piece of kitchen equipment. And I happen to like life a lot with homemade madeleines and crepes. Don’t come to me looking to talk you out of making a purchase that will bring you joy! I stopped by Williams Sonoma on the way home from work for a Kuhn Rikon cookie press. Just like that, my trio became a Holiday Spirits Quartet. Wish me luck!

APEROL SPRITZ COOKIES

I can’t say with 100% certainty that this is true, but I imagine any basic vanilla sugar cookie dough would work with the cookie press. I followed the recipe that came in the box. Preheat oven to 375. With a mixer on medium speed, beat 1 cup of flour and 1 cup of sugar until light and fluffy. Add in 1 large egg, 2-1/2 tsp vanilla extract, 1/2 tsp ground cardamom, and 1/2 tsp salt, and beat until smooth. Stir in 2-1/2 cups all purpose flour and mix well. Pack dough into cookie press and press out onto sheet tray according to equipment instructions. Bake about 10-12 minutes until lightly golden.

To make the aperol glaze, whisk 3/4 cup powdered sugar, 1 tbsp heavy cream, and 2 tbsp aperol until smooth, adding in more powdered sugar or heavy cream as necessary until reaches desired consistency. Use a spatula or spoon to spread over cookies, and add sprinkles if desired.

Poof! Buttered Brandy Shortbread

Jeff and I both speak a love language called Doing Chores.  

“I’ll do the dishes.  I like the dishes.”

“No, I’ll do the dishes, because nobody likes the dishes.”

When one of us has an unexpected day off from work we can usually be found scrubbing the bathroom from top to bottom, laundering sheets and towels, vacuuming all corners for errant dust bunnies, and prepping dinner. (As nice as it is to be on the receiving end of these acts, it’s as much self-love as an expression to the other. Our behavior was the same when we were single.)

There is one chore I gripe about, however, and that is dry cleaning. Not the physical act of taking and retrieving it, but the larger societal representations and economic impacts to my life. I take issue with the feeling of having to buy my clothes again. I already own this dress, now I have to pay before I wear it again? Why are my shirts three times the cost of my husband’s? For $60, I should have bought a new heavy blanket!  

If I was more objective about this issue I would accept the maintenance expense as I do for an oil change, tire rotation, or even the quarterly highlighting of my hair. Or I would start a fashion line of classically-styled, washable, affordable, wrinkle-free, quality dresses. But until I mature I will continue to part with a large chunk of my bank account and a small piece of my soul every time I pick up our dry-cleaning.

During the first eleven months of every year, I am the type of person who exercises restraint at Target; in December I purchase every ornament and wrapping paper that catches my attention. I’m usually not a movie repeater, but starting the day after Thanksgiving I re-watch Home Alone, Elf, Christmas Vacation, and Bridget Jones’s Diary. The Spirit of Christmas turns me into a version of myself I am usually not, and this extends to my relationship with dry cleaning.  

So eager was I to make Christmas cookies earlier this week that I didn’t even bother to change into my kitchen clothes.  Poof! Flour all over my black work pants. Poof! Powdered sugar all over my sweater. I had no regrets. Both pieces of clothing went directly into the dry cleaning bag, and I happily planted myself on the couch for the remainder of the evening and snacked on brandy-infused shortbread.  

This recipe is inspired by the local Sister Pie bakery (and now cookbook)!  I’ve adored Sister Pie’s holiday “Shortbread Trio” since they set up shop, and I knew that I would make some version at home this year.  Here is a simplified take on the Buttered Rum Shortbread, swapping the alcohol for brandy, my preferred holiday spirit.

BUTTERED BRANDY SHORTBREAD

For the dough, you’ll need:
2-1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
3/4 cup powdered sugar
2 tbsp brandy
1/2 tsp vanilla extract

For the icing, you’ll need:
3/4 cup powdered sugar
2 tbsp heavy cream, room temperature
2 tsp coconut oil, melted
2 tsp brandy
1/4 tsp salt

Preheat oven to 350. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt. Meanwhile, cream together the butter and powdered sugar in a stand mixer with the paddle attachment. When creamy, add the brandy and vanilla and mix until combined. Remove dough from bowl and shape into a log as wide as you’d like your cookies to be. Wrap and place in the refrigerator for about 45 minutes. Line baking sheets with parchment paper and remove dough from refrigerator. Using a sharp knife, cut into slices about 1/4 inch thick. Place on baking sheet and bake for about 15 minutes, checking frequently at the end until they are just toasty. Remove from the oven and cool on wire racks. Meanwhile, make the icing. Whisk the powdered sugar, heavy cream, coconut oil, brandy, and salt together in bowl, adding more cream or sugar if necessary to get to your desired consistency. Use a spatula or spoon to spread a thin layer on top of the cookies and let harden.

Now & Again Page Forty-Six

There’s a dish I’ve been making so consistently this fall that I refer to it not by its given name but rather as Now & Again Page Forty-Six, a moniker that also serves as easy instructions: open Julia Turshen’s new cookbook, Now & Again, and turn to page forty-six.  

Julia Turshen is a master of vegetables. Her cookbooks always contain an abundance of flavorful, thoughtful, and versatile options. I find that many other contemporary cookbooks lack this basic category, or include it as an obvious afterthought. Julia puts the vegetables front and center, and not just as part of a soup or leafy salad — though those are great too — but as remarkable, stand-alone dishes.  

In my forever quest to crack the code for tasty vegetables, it seems one reliable combo is vegetable plus sauce. Take Julia’s Kale Salad with Pepita Dressing, better known to me as Now & Again Page Forty-Six. It’s a relatively simple salad — just kale, radishes, and feta — but tossed in a pumpkin seed-based dressing that has certainly been a game-changer in my kitchen. Blitzed in a food processor with garlic, cumin, and lime juice, the dressing is spicy, acidic, savory, and perfectly balanced. It’s complex but not time-consuming, elegant but not pretentious, surprising but not exotic — all of the qualities I’ve come to expect from Julia’s excellent recipes.

I’ve had the dressing with the aforementioned kale, radishes, and feta already a half dozen times this month, but I’ve also poured it over quinoa and roasted vegetables and can imagine it in dozens of other applications. The recipe needs no tweaks. Though, I’ve made a version with added parmesan and served it as a pesto-like dip for crudités to great fanfare.

PEPITA PARMESAN DRESSING

To make my parmesan version, combine 1/4 cup lightly toasted pumpkin seeds, 1/4 cup shredded parmesan, 1 garlic clove, 1/2 tsp ground cumin, 2 tbsp olive oil, 2 tbsp fresh lime juice, 2 tbsp water, and 1/2 tsp kosher salt in a food processor and purée until smooth. Serve on a crudités platter with raw carrots, celery, and radishes, or any other fresh vegetables you have on hand.

Conditions Widely Known as Not Great Soup Weather

I’ve been making some version of a puréed vegetable soup on average every other week for the past year. It’s a recipe-less endeavor, but I generally follow the same formula: heat olive oil in a pot, add in chopped vegetables one at a time, moving from hardest to most delicate and seasoning with salt and pepper as necessary, barely cover in liquid (either vegetable broth or coconut milk), simmer until everything is cooked through, and, finally, blend until smooth.  

Most recently, on an oppressively humid ninety degree day when our a/c unit had given out, conditions widely known as not great soup weather, I made my best version yet. I’m sure our windowless kitchen reached nearly a hundred degrees, and we ate it in front of our only small fan, after I had taken a cold shower. But the very next day two things happened: our a/c unit was replaced, and the weather changed. Suddenly it was perfect soup weather and proved the cliché: the ends justify the means.

A year of puréed vegetable soups yields a lot of results, and I’m not exactly sure how to describe this one. It’s not a potato soup, nor a corn chowder, though together they give the impression of both. Poblano peppers add a taste of the Southwest, yet this soup is distinctly Midwestern -- all of the vegetables are from our CSA. I’ve never specifically repeated one of my casual vegetable soups, but I’m already planning on remaking it again exactly.  So I guess I’ll just describe it as favorite.

JESS’S LATE SUMMER SOUP

You’ll need:

1 small yellow onion, chopped
2 celery stalks, chopped
1 bell pepper, chopped (yellow is a good color for this soup, if available)
2 large poblano peppers, chopped
2 russet potatoes, peeled and chopped
2 cloves of garlic, chopped
4 ears of corn, kernels cut off the cob
1 pint vegetable stock
Salt and pepper, to taste

Heat olive oil in a large, heavy pot. Add vegetables in order listed; I like to chop and add as I go. Season with salt and pepper. Add vegetable stock. Liquid should just barely cover the vegetables; use additional water if necessary. Bring to a boil, then lower heat and simmer until everything is cooked through, approximately 20-30 minutes. Let cool slightly, then use an immersion blender to purée. Season again if necessary.

Toasted sourdough and sliced late-summer Michigan tomatoes are the perfect accompaniment to this soup.  

The Actual Best Lunch

The Actual Best Lunch is derived from The Actual Best Dinner, which is the first dinner that Jeff ever made for me.  I call it Jeff’s Famous Spicy Pesto Pasta, but it is also known as Giada’s Fusilli with Spicy Pesto.  My fiancé (MY FIANCÉ OF THREE WEEKS!!!) swaps the jalapeno for extra garlic and blends it to a smoother texture than you can imagine.  The sauce becomes trapped in the corkscrew nooks and crannies of the fusilli, and it is perfect.

Jeff first served me his pasta alongside a butternut squash soup and a genius goat cheese and tomato bruschetta.  Both are also favorite dishes to this day.  He repeated the meal (minus the soup) at our recent, spontaneous US Open Opening Ceremony Party (planned the night before, attended by me, him, and our friend who played tennis in college), and thankfully there were leftovers.

For the past month we’ve been bringing home six pounds of Michigan tomatoes from our CSA each week.  I call it, “the most wonderful time of the year, the happiest season of all.”  To make The Actual Best Lunch, I sliced a few dark cherry tomatoes, spread them over the top of the leftover pesto pasta, sprinkled with sea salt, and ate it straight out of the Tupperware container while watching season three Friends reruns on a day off from work.

JEFF'S FAMOUS SPICY PESTO PASTA

In a food processor, combine approximately 1 cup chopped walnuts, 3 cloves garlic, 1 cup grated Asiago cheese, 1 cup grated Parmesan cheese, 1 tsp pepper, 3 ounces spinach, 3 ounces arugula, and 1/4 cup olive oil.  Blend until extremely smooth. Taste and add salt as needed; since the salt content of the cheeses can vary, it’s best to salt and taste to your liking at the end.  Jeff told me his trick for extreme smoothness is to use the opening at the top of the lid (what is that actually called?!) not just for drizzling olive oil, but also for slowly adding the greens.  Mix into 1 lb of cooked fusilli and serve to your loved ones.

Border Security and Strawberry Mojitos

One thing to know about me is that I don’t break rules.  I always do my homework, I never park illegally, and I won’t connect to your unsecured network.  

When I find myself among a group of people proudly telling stories about their teenage misbehavior, I’ll laugh and play along.  I’ll consider sharing the time I knocked over a lamp in our family room with my overstuffed backpack and broke the lampshade.  I pieced it back together perfectly, or so I thought.  But when night fell and my dad flipped the switch on, every crack was illuminated, casting abstract shadows on the walls.  He took one look at it and said, “What the hell happened to the lamp?”  I confessed, of course, and my dad laughed hysterically, probably at the relief of realizing I would never dare to get into real trouble.  Then I’ll recognize my story is not the same as, say, stealing cars and smoking various substances, and decide not to contribute.  

When I was twenty-seven I did consider dying my hair a “classy” pink, subtle and in the style of certain fashionable celebrities, and getting a tattoo on my wrist inspired by a Taylor Swift lyric, but the urge passed three hours later.  Which is all to say that if you think for one second that I am going to try to pull a fast one on United States Border Patrol, you have put your faith in the wrong person.

To celebrate the 4th of July this year, we went to Canada.  It felt rebellious in these times, but in reality we simply wanted to take a trip within driving distance that wasn’t northern Michigan, for a change.  As we had both just renewed our severely expired passports, we looked across the border and thought a visit to Niagara Falls fit the bill.  It was magnificent, majestic -- of course.  

After we admired the falls from the left, right, above, below, in front of, and behind, we spent our last day exploring the surrounding rural area.  We sat on the south shore of Lake Ontario for a foggy view of Toronto across the bay, visited a maple syrup farm, considered tasting at one of the many wineries (were it not for our impending four-hour drive), and picked up a jar of rhubarb jam and a pint of the sweetest, most petite, jewel-like strawberries I ever did see.  They were going to be muddled into my favorite summer cocktail that evening, and further, bring a taste of vacation to upcoming breakfasts at my desk.

When we were halfway back home we started to talk through the logistics of our return to America, specifically the border crossing.

“I’ll let you do all the talking, unless the guard specifically asks me a question.”

“Definitely.”

“How much did you say we could bring back without declaring?”

“$500.00.”

“Ok, we have the gifts for my mom and sister, our Lululemon outlet purchases, my two Canada sweatshirts...”

“You bought both of those?!”

“Yes.  The maple syrup, maple candies, and maple butter, and the jam and strawberries.”

(Opens calculator.  Opens foreign currency exchange app.)

“Ok!  We’re good!”

I go back to reading Bad Blood, a story about someone decidedly not risk averse, when I’m interrupted.  “Hey babe, does the customs website say anything about bringing fruit into the U.S.?”

It did, of course.  It wasn’t allowed, obviously.  And that’s how a pint of the freshest, cutest, sweetest, little strawberries became our Canadian highway snack.

An hour later we crossed the Ambassador Bridge, ready for questioning.  In my mind, ok, two Canada sweatshirts, no strawberries.  When it was our turn, we rolled down all the windows.  Jeff said hello, I gave a friendly smile.

“Where are you coming from?”

“Niagara Falls.”

“How long were you there?”

“Three days.”

“Welcome home.”

The gate flips up and we drive through.  You can never be too prepared.

 STRAWBERRY MOJITO

If I had dared to bring home the perfect strawberries from Canada, this is the drink I would have made.  It’s inspired by a disgraced super-chef who once hosted an excellent show that rhymes with Bolto Bario.

Muddle 3 ripe strawberries (hulled) and 5 fresh mint leaves in the bottom of a drinking glass.  Add 2 tbsp agave, 2 oz of rum, and a splash of ginger beer.  Mix well and enjoy.

Basil Dressing: For All Your Summer Vegetable Needs

We joined a CSA for the first time this year, and though we bought just a half share, every Wednesday we bring home more vegetables than two vegetable-loving people know what to do with.  We’ve been on a smoothies-for-dinner kick, which is great from both a health and a time-management perspective.  (Though I’d love it if breakfast smoothies were part of my routine, I don’t have time to blend one while I attempt to style my hair and run out the door at 7:15 -- ok, 7:16 -- in the morning.)  I’ve been reintroduced to chard, turnips, collards, and kohlrabi, turning them into sauteed chard and scrambled eggs, roasted turnips, collard “burritos,” and attempts at recreating a broth-y kohlrabi soup I used to enjoy at a former work lunch spot.

And then, there’s the basil.  Over the years we’ve received our fair share of pesto from home gardeners eager to share.  Seems the farm has the same bounty, as we’ve received a large bunch of incredibly fresh, fragrant basil nearly every week.  When we came across this recipe for cous cous salad and basil vinaigrette, we were so blown away by the dressing that we’ve been making it twice-weekly and putting it on everything from farro to quinoa to steamed broccoli to grilled summer squash.  It packs the flavor punch we love from pesto, but cuts out the Parmesan and pine nuts that are too heavy for everyday.  I’ve followed this recipe exactly, but I’ve also subbed green onions and garlic scapes for the shallot, both to excellent results.

GRILLED SUMMER SQUASH WITH BASIL DRESSING

For the dressing:  In a food processor, combine 1 cup basil leaves, 1/2 cup olive oil, 1 shallot roughly chopped, 1 garlic clove roughly chopped, 1 tbsp honey, 2 tbsp white wine vinegar, salt and pepper.  Blend until smooth.

For summer squash:  Heat your grill or grill pan to medium heat.  Cut squash into either coins or half-moon slices.  Place in a bowl and lightly coat with olive oil and salt and pepper.  Grill for about 6 minutes on each side, until soft and tender and grill marks appear.

Spoon the dressing over the squash and serve immediately.

My Original Favorite Protein: Chicken Cordon Bleu

Fresh fish needs nothing more than salt, pepper, and 12-15 minutes in the oven to be really great.  Take it a few steps further, maybe by first searing it on the stovetop, or dressing it with an herbed olive oil, and it becomes downright excellent.  This is a sentiment that I was blind to pre-Jeff, thanks to absence, ignorance, and intimidation.  Aside from frozen fish sticks and tuna salad, it wasn’t something my parents ever made at home, and therefore it wasn’t something I carried into early adulthood.  Now, we bake salmon with our favorite spice blend so frequently that my mom has created a comedy bit.  If I’m on the phone with her, telling her my plans for after work, she’ll say something like, “And then you’ll have salmon?”  Or, if we talk later in the evening, she’ll say, “How was the salmon?” and the like.

That being said, the pendulum can swing too far, and lately I’ve been revisiting my original favorite protein, chicken.  It seems like chicken should be as effortless as fish, but in reality, with just a simple misstep, it can become tough, dry, or bland -- or worse, undercooked and a health hazard.  These same risks do exist with seafood, but I find the timeline and texture to be much more forgiving.  Historically, in my kitchen, it’s nearly impossible for me to mess up fish, and I almost never get chicken right.  I’m on a quest to fix that.

Amelia Morris is my favorite blogger, one of my favorite writers, and, I like to think, my kindred spirit.  We share not only a love of food and writing, but also women's gymnastics.  She inspires me to find an adult gymnastics class, so that I can one day relive the crowning moment circa 1996 when I completed one round-off-back-handspring and ended my career on a high note.  I just re-read her excellent “coming of age story, with recipes,” Bon Appetempt, where she writes about her working mom’s weeknight dinner prep.  On busy days, she would heat out-of-the box, frozen chicken cordon bleu in the oven, and when time was available, they were made from scratch -- the chicken breasts pounded thin, rolled with ham and Swiss, coated in breadcrumbs, and cooked until crunchy and oozy.

My mom called last Sunday afternoon to catch up, and she asked what was for dinner (surprisingly, dropping the salmon joke).  I told her over speaker phone I was rolling chicken cordon bleu right at that second, and her response was, “You know I used to make those, right?”  She had to ask because cooking was a chore for her, a task she usually handed off, her repertoire of dinners small (but mighty).  But I more than remembered.  I practically tasted them while reading Amelia's story, and planned them for dinner that very night.  

Nights when my parents worked late, we often had a store-bought, completely uniform version of chicken cordon bleu, each serving always a perfectly domed oval with a pocket of ham and creamy Swiss.  I would cut mine in half straight out of the oven and let the cheese run onto my plate in a puddle, a dipping sauce for each bite.  To be honest, this is the way I remember this dish most.  But occasionally, when time and desire collided, perhaps on a Saturday while I was at gymnastics, I would come home to my mom's interpretation.  She probably didn't follow a recipe -- despite not practicing every day, her intuition was strong -- but I imagine it was similar to the way I made them last weekend.
 

CHICKEN CORDON BLEU

I adapted Amelia’s recipe slightly, as hers calls for pan-frying followed by baking, and I wanted to eliminate the first step.  I baked them entirely, and though I didn’t think to add olive oil to the breadcrumbs at the time, I will do so going forward to help facilitate a golden, toasty crust.

You’ll need:

1 package boneless, skinless chicken breasts (about 1 lb. total, I like to buy the thin-cut breasts)
6 thinly-sliced pieces of Swiss cheese
6 thinly-sliced pieces of ham
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 large eggs
2 tbsp milk
1-1/2 cups panko breadcrumbs
2 tbsp olive oil

Preheat oven to 350F.  Place a wire cooling rack on top of a sheet of a sheet tray and spray with non-stick cooking spray.  The wire rack will help ensure the chicken crisps on all sides.

Pound the chicken breasts as thin as you can without tearing, ideally about 1/4 inch thick.  I did this by placing them in a Ziploc bag one at a time and hitting it with a meat mallet.  Sprinkle each breast with salt and pepper.  Top with a piece of Swiss cheese and a piece of ham, then roll the breasts up as tightly as possible.  Secure with a toothpick if necessary (though I didn’t need to).

Set up your dredging stations.  In the first bowl, add the flour and a little bit of salt and pepper.  In the second bowl, whisk together the eggs and milk. In the final bowl, add the panko, olive oil, and a little bit of salt and pepper, and mix together evenly.  Working one at a time, dip each chicken roll-up in each bowl in that order, making sure all sides are covered but not excessively so, and place on the wire rack.  Bake for about 35 minutes, until the panko is toasted and the chicken is cooked through.

Grown-Up Chicken Strips

Everyone has their own idea of what constitutes an easy weeknight meal.  For many, I assume that does not include setting up dredging stations.  But that’s exactly what I’ve been up to on recent Mondays through Thursdays, and it is so easy.

I would say that I love fried chicken, and I would also say that I’ve had it, the good stuff, just a handful of times in my life.  The idea of deep-frying doesn’t really suit my ideas of what I want to prepare in my kitchen or put in my body (usually).  But oven “frying” is something I can absolutely get behind, for oven frying simply equals baking + panko.  

This recipe is inspired by the Oven Fried Chicken in Jessica Seinfeld’s most recent book, Food Swings.  Instead of using eggs or buttermilk or another traditional (and arguably less healthy) binder, she calls for a baked sweet potato, mashed and mixed with egg whites.  As long as I cook the sweet potato the day before I want to make the chicken, the process could not be easier.

The first time I made this I followed Ms. Seinfeld’s recipe as is, with drumsticks, but I actually prefer to make them with thin-sliced breasts cut into strips.  When I have some combination of sour cream / mayonnaise / buttermilk / cream + herbs on hand, I like to whip up a simple, unmeasured, to-taste ranch dressing for dipping, and it becomes the grown-up version of one of my favorite childhood diner meals.

I didn’t think I could make great chicken at home until I made these, and now it's on repeat in my kitchen.

GROWN-UP CHICKEN STRIPS

You’ll need:
1 small sweet potato
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
3 egg whites
1-1/2 cups panko
1/2 tsp paprika
1/2 tsp salt
2 tbsp olive oil
1 lb (more or less) thin-sliced chicken breasts, cut into strips

The day before:  Preheat oven to 400F.  Stab a sweet potato with a fork a few times, wrap in aluminum foil, and place in a baking dish.  Bake for about 45 minutes to 1 hour (depending on the size of the potato).  Let cool, scoop out soft center, and mash with a fork or something similar.  At this point, I put it in the refrigerator until the next day.

The day of:  Again, preheat oven to 400F.  Place a wire cooling rack on top of a sheet tray and spray with non-stick cooking spray.  The wire rack will help ensure the chicken crisps on all sides. You will need three bowls to set up the dredging stations.  In the first bowl, add just the flour.  In the second bowl, add the sweet potato and egg whites and stir together.  In the final bowl, add the panko, spices, salt, and olive oil and mix together evenly.  Working one at a time, dip each chicken strip in each bowl in that order, making sure all sides are covered but not excessively so.  Place on the wire rack.  Bake for about 25 minutes, until the panko is toasted and the chicken is cooked through.

Enjoy (potentially) with homemade ranch dressing.  These also work well on top of a salad.

The drumstick version.

Shredded Kale & Chicken Salad

My office is located at what I consider to be one of the busiest intersections in metropolitan Detroit, and I’ve learned plenty of tricks to navigate the commute before and after my workday.  What I haven’t yet mastered is the local lunch pick up, and I actually don’t know if it can be tamed. Unfortunately, the food offerings in the area match the hurried, stressful, can-I-make-a-left-turn-here? traffic flow.  The workday is busy enough; I don’t also need road rage and a case of hangry.  

There is a noticeable difference to the cumulative mood of my week when I bring homemade lunches to work.  It’s easy on the wallet and the waistline, both of which bring me peace of mind.  But further, for me, cooking essentially equals relaxation.  It’s how I decompress in the evenings and on the weekend.  By bringing something from my kitchen to my desk, I also take a little bit of that zen to my midday break.

Almost always I bring a salad, though my definition is rather expansive to include most anything that can be mixed in a bowl (or plastic tupperware container, as it may be).  Ideally I like to double batch a recipe on Sunday and portion out five lunches for the week.  Hearty ingredients are best, those that simultaneously hold up in the refrigerator and hold me over until dinnertime.  And when I find a winning combination, I make it on repeat until I tire of it.

For the last few weeks it’s been a dish largely inspired by Jenny Rosenstrach’s Redemption Salad.  I didn’t know poached and shredded chicken before this, and I’m a convert.  I’m less worried about undercooking it (as opposed to when I oven-bake it), and while I always thought it would be bland, I actually love that the chicken tastes just like chicken.  Plus, Jenny gave me the idea to add just a little bit of flavor to the water. For work lunch salad chicken, this is the way to go.

SHREDDED KALE AND CHICKEN SALAD

Place 2 chicken breasts in a medium pot and cover with water.  Add 3 tbsp rice wine vinegar and 1 tsp soy sauce. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer until chicken is cooked through, about 15 minutes.  Move chicken to plate and let cool for at least 30 minutes.  Shred either by hand or with two forks.

In a large bowl whisk together 3 tbsp rice vinegar, 1-1/2 tsp brown sugar, 1 tsp salt, 1 tsp minced ginger, 1 tsp minced garlic, the juice of one lime, a few drops off hot sauce, and 1/3 cup grapeseed oil.

To the dressing, add the shredded chicken, 1 bunch of shredded kale, 1 red pepper chopped, 2 celery stalks chopped, 1/2 cucumber chopped, and 1 handful shredded carrots.  Stir to combine.  Garnish with 1 chopped scallion, 1/2 cup chopped cilantro, and 2 tbsp toasted sesame seeds.  Stir again to combine.  Eat immediately or portion into plastic containers for the perfect work lunches.  This salad holds up extremely well in the refrigerator.