Tortilla Española

I had really high hopes for this Tortilla Española and I was not disappointed! The only disappointing part was eating it alone. But I guess when one decides to cook at 10:30 on a Wednesday morning, eating alone is usually part of the bargain.

There are tons of good-sounding recipes for Tortilla Española. José Andres has a few good ones in Tapas: A Taste of Spain in America and I almost always refer to Penelope Casas' The Foods and Wines of Spain for anything Spain-related. I also recently picked up 1080 Recipes by Simone Ortega and Inés Ortega for a mega-deal off Gilt Group! Basically after doing tons of reading and remembering my friend Laura Smith's improvised Tortilla during our United Nations party in Brazil, I tackled the farmers market potatoes, onions and eggs to make my own.

I had 10 eggs and a buttload of potatoes so I just sliced up as many potatoes as would fit in my skillet. I think it was probably about 3 pounds. I used that amazing Japanese slicer to make them as thin as potato chips since José Andres has a quick tortilla recipe that starts with potato chips. The onions I sliced by hand. Filled my straight-sided skillet about 1-inch deep with a mix of vegetable and olive oil, turned it to medium, and let the potatoes and onions do their thing until the potatoes were soft. The key is to almost poach them in the oil, not fry - otherwise they will be too crispy and won't acheive the proper tortilla texture. In a separate bowl beat up all the eggs with a pinch of salt. When the potatoes and onions were ready, I let them cool for a second and then mixed them into the bowl with the eggs. Season again with salt.

Here's where all the authors were adamant: wipe out the skillet and heat it HOT. If the skillet is not hot enough, the tortilla will not develop the crust and it will stick to the pan. The skillet was smoking hot - I REPEAT HOT. Slide the egg-potato-onion mix into the skillet -- it will smoke -- and keep running a spatula around the edges to be sure those aren't sticking. When it looks like the edges are set, it's time to flip.

Put a big plate over the top of the skillet. Using two hands (or more if you have helpers!) invert the skillet really quickly so the tortilla falls onto the plate. Slide the tortilla back into the skillet so the uncooked side is now face down. Put it back on the heat, cook for a few minutes until the whole thing is set, and invert again onto a plate to cool.

The whole process takes maybe 45 minutes if you are a newbie (like me) but for an experienced Spaniard I can see this being maybe a 20 minute process. It really isn't that much harder than making an omelet except you have to do some flipping. I guess you could also do this frittata-style and put it in the oven instead of flipping, but then it would be a frittata and not a tortilla. The Spanish and the Italians would get in a row and someone would probably throw the hot whatever-it-is in someone's face and all your hard work would go to waste. So call it what it is, ok? Gracias.

Pão de Queijo, Gougére-style

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!

I love bread, and I love cheese. So one of my favorite things about Brasil was the Pão de Queijo, or cheese bread. Salty, dense, gummy (in a good way), cheesy, totally addictive. They are made with savory tapioca flour, which gives them the gumminess, and Minas cheese (or mozzarella, for the less traditional and in my opinion not-as-good ones). Hard to find the fresh ingredients or the frozen dough balls outside Brasil unless you have a Brasilian grocery store. Which we did in Ann Arbor, but there are very few here in Chicago and I haven't had the energy or time to venture out hunting.

I was feeling some serious saudades when one day my sister said, hey do you have any of those frozen cheese balls? I said, no but I could try making some even though all we have is Kraft shredded cheddar and regular flour. So I looked up a recipe for gougéres in -- what else -- the French Laundry cookbook, and used shredded cheddar and parmesan instead of the Gruyére. And 45 minutes later, we busted into these cheesey orbs of goodness!! I think we each ate three, including my 2-year-old niece. Even though the recipe is from the French Laundry Cookbook, I have changed (read: bastardized) it enough to post it as a different recipe. I'm sure Thomas Keller would cringe at the association. But these pão de queijo certainly mataram meus saudades...pelo momento...

Pão de Queijo, Gougére Style (inspired / adapted / bastardized from the French Laundry Cookbook)

1 cup water
7 tablespoons (3-1/2 ounces) unsalted butter
1 teaspoon kosher salt, or more to taste
Pinch of sugar
1-1/4 cups (5 ounces) all-purpose flour
4 to 5 large eggs
6 oz grated cheddar and parmesan, combined in about a 2:1 ratio

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F. Line two baking sheets with Silpats.

In a medium saucepan, combine the water, butter, salt, and sugar and bring to a boil. Add all the flour at once, reduce the heat to medium, and stir with a wooden spoon for 2 minutes, or until the mixture forms a ball and the excess moisture has evaporated (if the ball forms more quickly, continue to cook and stir for a full 2 minutes).

Transfer the mixture to the bowl of a mixer fitted with the paddle and beat for about 30 seconds at medium speed to cool slightly. Add 4 eggs and continue to mix until completely combined and the batter has a smooth, silky texture. Stop the machine and lift up the beater to check the consistency of the batter. The batter in the mixing bowl should form a peak with a tip that falls over. If it is too stiff, beat in the white of the remaining egg. Check again and, if necessary, add the yolk. Finally, mix in the majority of the cheese, leaving about 1/4 cup for sprinkling on top of the dough.

Spoon a golf-ball sized round of dough onto the baking sheet. Each sheet should hold about 12 dough balls. Sprinkle the top of each gougère with about 1 teaspoon of the remaining grated cheese and bake for 9-10 minutes, or until they puff and hold their shape. Reduce the heat to 350 degrees F. and bake for an additional 30 minutes. When the gougères are done, they should be a light golden brown color. When you break one open, it should be hollow; the inside should be cooked but still slightly moist. Remove the pans from the oven and serve the gougères while hot.

Waffles!!!!

This is how you know it's Christmas at the Miller house:

Roasted Veggies

New potatoes, carrots and sage. Not a whole lot to say besides mmmmmm good, when your mouth is full! I usually roast veggies on high heat (400 - 425) but because of oven space at Christmas, we had to improvise with temperatures and rack swapping. Which ended up with surprisingly good and unexpected results, re: the veggies. Started them at 350, with plenty of olive oil on the pan, and roasted for about 30 minutes. Then transferred them to a 425 oven (could just kick up the heat, too) and roasted for another 15 minutes or so.

The result: creamy and rich on the inside, caramelized and crunchy on the outside. I did them again just to be sure and it seriously is a winning combo! And very little risk of burning, which is nice. I would hesitate to extrapolate to all vegetables, especially the ones that tend to overcook or lose lots of water (brussels sprouts, green beans, zucchini, etc). But for vegetables that benefit from deep, concentrated flavor and heat, the results are totally worth it.

Baked Polenta or Cheddar Grits -- depending on your origin

I first made these grits when tweaking recipes for a coffee shop in Detroit, MI. Naturally we called them Cheddar Grits and served them with a side of or topped with country ham. But at home with my Italian brother-in-law we call it baked polenta. It tastes the same, although polenta makes it sound classier.

Speaking of being classy, the nice thing about this recipe is you can make it with the cheapest grits, pre-shredded cheddar, butter and eggs or the fancy organic, stone milled "polenta", sharp white cheddar, organic eggs and farmhouse butter - and it will taste great either way. It depends on your tastes. I like sharp white cheddar. If you are a fan of typical grilled cheese (white bread, Kraft singles) you might like shredded yellow cheddar better. Versatility is a virtue.
The picture doesn't do them justice. Creamy yet firm, salty yet deep, a bit peppery and all around finger- (or spoon-) licking good, these grits/polenta are delicious hot, at room temperature, or even cooled and reheated by frying them into a sort of polenta pancake. Great as a breakfast dish, a side dish to just about any food, or a base for sauce or roasted veggies. But they are seriously awesome scooped into a bowl and eaten just by themselves, whenever.

Cheddar Grits / Polenta
6 cups water
1 1/2 cups grits or polenta (I use Bob's Red Mill)
3 eggs, lightly beaten
2-4 cloves garlic (depending on how much you like garlic)
1/4 cup butter
1 lb cheddar cheese, shredded (I use a mix of sharp and mild white)
salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 350 and butter a 9 x 13 casserole dish.

Bring six cups of water to a boil. Add the grits all at once. Turn the heat to medium and cook, stirring constantly, for about 10 minutes or until the grits are almost done. They will lose their raw corn flavor and become very thick. Add the eggs, garlic and butter and cook for another few minutes until the grits develop a garlicky flavor. The grits should taste ready to eat with the exception of seasoning. Add the cheese and season with salt and plenty of pepper. Pour the grits into the casserole. Bake for 1 hour until the top is browned and the grits are set. Let cool for a few minutes before serving.

A Really Awesome Birthday Cake

This is the lemon raspberry cake I made for my sister's birthday in early December. Four lemon cake layers filled with lemon curd and raspberry jam, frosted with lemon cream. Not too sweet, very moist, and very lemony and balanced.

It was a conglomeration of a few different recipes plus my own tweaking. So I guess I can call it my own, but the original sources are also cited. The decorations were wholly ridiculous and fantastic - sprinkles, squirt cupcake icing and squiggly trick candles. But the cake was actually completely delicious and well worth making again, even for a fancier occasion.

Lemon Cake Layers
(inspired / tweaked from Moosewood Restaurant Book of Desserts - Coconut Lemon Layer Cake)

1 cup butter, at room temperature
2 cups sugar
1 cup milk + 2 teaspoons vanilla extract (in the same measuring cup)
2 1/2 cups unbleached white flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
6 egg whites at room temperature (save the yolks for lemon curd)

Preheat the oven to 350. Butter and flour 2 8-inch round cake pans.

Beat the butter and sugar in a stand mixer until light and fluffy. Add half the milk mixture to the butter and sugar mixture and beat until well blended. Into another bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder and salt. Add the sifted mixture to the butter mixture and mix on low speed. Thoroughly mix in the remaining milk mixture. The batter will be quite thick.

Using a hand mixer, beat the egg whites until stiff peaks form. Fold the beaten whites into the batter until no trace of white remains - be diligent. The whites will deflate but the batter will be lighter in color and texture. Pour the batter into the cake pans and bake until the tip of a knife or a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean, about 35 minutes. Cool on a rack and remove from the cake pans when completely cool.

Lemon Curd
(From Luscious Lemon Desserts - Lemon Curd)

1 stick unsalted butter
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup fresh lemon juice (2-3 lemons)
3 tablespoons or more finely grated lemon zest (zest all the lemons that were juiced)
pinch of salt
6 egg yolks (reserved from the cake)

Melt the butter in a heavy medium saucepan over medium-low heat.

Remove the pan from the heat and whisk in the sugar, lemon juice, zest and salt. Whisk in the yolks until smooth.

Cook the mixture, whisking constantly, until it thickens and leaves a path on the back of a wooden spoon when a finger is drawn across it; do not allow the curd to boil. Note that it will be thinner when hot than when it cools, but be sure that it is thick enough when removed from the heat. You do not want the curd to be runny when cooled.

Immediately pour the lemon curd through a strainer into a bowl. Use a spatula to push it all through and get any chunks out (sometimes eggs can curdle and leave chunks behind). Refrigerate, with plastic pressed onto the surface of the curd.

Frosting
1 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup lemon curd

Whip the cream using a hand mixer or a stand mixer with a whisk attachment. Add the lemon curd bit by bit as you are mixing the cream. The cream will take a little longer to obtain the texture of whipped cream, but it should get relatively stiff and spreadable. Refrigerate before frosting the cake for a firmer texture. Taste as you beat and add a few more tablespoons of lemon curd if you like it even more lemony (but this is a very lemony frosting).

Assembly

Buy a jar of really good raspberry preserves (I am partial to Bon Maman). Or make your own if you are lucky enough to have fresh raspberries. It is December in Illinois, so store-bought jam it is.

Slice each cake layer into two layers. Place two pieces of wax paper next to each other on a cake stand or plate. Place the bottom layer on top of the wax paper so each piece can be pulled out sideways when the cake assembly is finished.

For filling, you have two options: fill the bottom and top layer with lemon curd and the middle with jam, or vice versa. I filled two layers with jam and the middle with lemon curd, and it was a nice contrast. Depends how much you like raspberry and/or lemon.

Spread your filling of choice (lemon or raspberry) generously but not overflowing-ly onto the cake layer. Top with the second layer. Spread the opposite filling, again generously but not overflowing, onto the second layer. Top with the third layer. Spread the first filling on the third layer, and add a little more since it is on the top and the filling is always the best part! Top with the final cake layer. If any filling squeezes out, scrape it off with a knife or a small spatula.

Spread a thin layer of the frosting around the entire cake. This is somewhat like a crumb coat, and will help to keep any escaped filling or crumbs out of the final frosting layer. An offset spatula is best, or a butter knife, but a rubber spatula is a little too much for this cake (it pulls crumbs off and makes things clumsy). After the entire cake is coated, spread on more frosting all over the cake and smooth it out. Refrigerate the cake for an hour or more.

For decorating, use your creativity! I used the store-bought cupcake frosting because I was short on time, but you could also make some extra whipped cream frosting and pipe rosettes around the edges. The sprinkles made it really fun and colorful and looked great when the cake was sliced with yellow and pink/red on the inside. It also looks great just white and simple.

Pizza!

Caramelized onions, goat cheese and arugula
Margherita (Fresh mozzarella, tomatoes and basil)
Mozzarella, tomato and sea salt

Roasted Potato and Fennel Salad

One of my favorite recipes, very loosely adapted from (more like inspired by) a recipe in Cooks Illustrated for roasted potato salad with salsa verde.

Step 1: Potatoes

2 lb small red-skinned potatoes or small Yukon gold potatoes, washed and cut into ¾ inch chunks
Extra virgin olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper

Preheat the oven to 450 F / 250 C. Spread the potatoes on a heavy duty rimmed baking sheet (lined with foil, if available – makes cleanup easier). Drizzle with olive oil and kosher salt and pepper, and toss to coat. Make sure the potatoes are well coated with oil but not drenched. Spread the potatoes out into a single layer and roast until tender when pierced with a fork, about 20-30 minutes, depending on the size. Check and stir the potatoes once during roasting. When potatoes are done, transfer them to a large serving bowl and scrape all the toasty bits off the pan.

Step 2: The other stuff

1 medium fennel bulb

Cut the top and the bottom off the fennel bulb. Slice the fennel in half from top to bottom. Slice crosswise as thinly as possible. Add fennel to the bowl with the potatoes. Keep the fronds.

Salsa Verde:
½ c chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
Reserved fennel fronds from fennel, chopped
1 medium shallot, chopped
2 T fresh orange juice or lemon juice
1 T white-wine vinegar or Champagne vinegar
1 T rice wine (mirin)
1 T honey (if needed for sweetness)
¼ c extra-virgin olive oil
kosher salt and freshly ground pepper

In a medium bowl, stir together the above ingredients and season with salt and pepper to taste. Add the dressing to the bowl with the fennel and potatoes and toss well to combine. Check for seasoning and serve.

Balsamic Roasted Green Beans, Roasted Butternut Squash, and Spinach Tortelloni with Butter and Sage

Here's the basics of this easy weeknight dinner:

Green Beans
Either buy a package of trimmed green beans or about a pound of bulk beans. If you buy the latter, snap the ends off. Wash the beans, dry them and lay out on a baking sheet lined with foil. Thinly slice one red onion for each pound of green beans. Thinly slice 2 or 3 garlic cloves for each pound of green beans. Season with coarse salt and pepper, drizzle with olive oil, and roast at 425 for about 30 minutes, stirring once. When the beans are done, drizzle with balsamic and stir while still on the baking sheet to loosen all the brown bits (deglazing, essentially).

These beans are fabulous cold or reheated the next day.

Squash
Cut up one medium-sized butternut squash into cubes. Cut one sweet Spanish onion into chunks. Toss with salt, pepper and olive oil on a baking sheet and roast at 425 for about an hour, stirring once or twice. Be sure that the squash is caramelized but not burned.

This is also delicious reheated and smooshed onto bread.

Tortelloni with Butter and Sage
Be a cheater: buy a package of spinach and cheese tortelloni, but buy the good stuff. Cook it in boiling salted water. Melt a stick of butter in a saucepan. Sprinkle with salt when the foam subsides. Let it brown a bit, if desired. Add the sage leaves and sizzle for 1 minute. Add the drained tortelloni and toss it around in the butter. Done!

Chocolate Chip Cookies

Short but sweet: if you make them, they will come. That is: if you eat cookies, people will come...to eat them!!









Generously inspired by and adapted from the Tollhouse Cookie Recipe.

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
2 sticks butter, softened
3/4 cup brown sugar
3/4 cup white sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
a lot of chocolate chips

Preheat the oven to 350.

Combine the flour, baking soda and salt in a bowl.

Beat the butter and sugar in stand mixer on high until light and fluffy. It should take about 10 minutes; scrape the bowl several times.

Add the eggs one at a time while mixing slowly, just until incorporated. Add the vanilla.

Add the flour mixture in a few batches while the mixer is on low speed. When everything is incorporated, add the chips and mix with a spatula.

If the dough is really soft, chill in the refrigerator until slightly more solid. This way the cookies won't spread too much.

Drop about a tablespoon of dough on an ungrease cookie sheet. Fill the sheet with 12 dough balls. Bake in the oven for 10-12 minutes or until just golden brown. Do not overbake - the cookies will continue to cook for about a minute after they are removed from the oven.

Enjoy!!

Life Is Souper

The minute I exited the airport in Chicago, I smelled it. Diesel? No: Fall!

The scent of fall in the midwest is distinct. It's a swirl of fresh and musty, life and death, change encapsulated in an ephemeral whiff. Leaves darken and brighten, sleeves are supplemented with jackets, then scarves and hoods, the whole system preparing itself for the onslaught of freezing winter but celebrating with a big blast of color before it all turns white and gray.

Since it all must go back to food, I bring you my favorite harbinger of fall: soup. My mom bought all the ingredients for this minestrone and had them sitting on the counter when I walked in the door. This is my mom in a nutshell: "Welcome home! I love you! Now cook!" And gladly, with love, I eagerly grab her always-sharp knives and tear into the mountain of vegetables on the butcher block. That's another thing: making soup is a great way to vicariously hack away at whatever seems to deserve it.

Here's the recipe, to be doubled, tripled, or adapted at will. This makes about 6 quarts.

Minestrone Soup

6 Tablespoons olive oil
2 large leeks, thinly sliced, white and light green part only
4 carrots, chopped
2 zucchini, sliced in half lengthwise and then in slices
8 ounces green beans, halved
4 celery stalks, thinly sliced
12 cups vegetable stock (or chicken stock) (3 cardboard containers of, i.e., Pacific Brand)
2 14-ounce can chopped tomatoes (San Marzano, if you want the best flavor)
2 Tablespoons chopped fresh basil
2 teaspoons chopped fresh thyme or ½ teaspoon dried thyme
2 14-ounce can cannellini beans
1 cup macaroni (small elbows)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Freshly grated Parmesan cheese and chopped fresh parsley, to garnish


1. Heat the olive oil in a large dutch oven or soup pot, add all the fresh vegetables and heat until sizzling. Cover the pan, lower the heat and sweat the vegetables for 15 minutes, shaking the pan occasionally.

2. Pour in the stock and add the tomatoes and herbs with salt and pepper to taste. Bring to a boil, replace the lid, then simmer gently for about 30 minutes

3. Add the beans with the can liquid, then the pasta. Simmer for about 10 minutes. Check the seasoning and serve with the Parmesan cheese and parsley

Rice Balls

Sometimes you want lunch to be easy. Oh, did I say lunch? I meant life. But in the meantime...

Make rice balls!

What's more fun than an edible ball that you can pick up with your hands, bite into and find magic inside? Nothing! Hostess cupcakes mastered this art but can, like many nostalgic food products, lead to regret when revisited later in life. See also: Ding Dongs and Hot Pockets.

But the Japanese have got this area covered. Though some venture into ridiculousness I do have to bow in respect. I can't really venture to call my rice balls "onigiri", as that would be like calling half-thawed, partially cooked fish sticks "sushi". But I like to imagine myself stumbling up to the pantheon of rice gods to one day stand upon their big toes, if not their shoulders.My recipe, very loosely adapted (more like "inspired by") Harumi Kurihara's "Harumi's Japanese Cooking" and my friend Mandy.

Shiitake Mushroom Filling
Fresh shiitake mushrooms -- about 3-4 ounces
3 T soy sauce
2 T rice wine / mirin

Clean the mushrooms, remove the stems and slice thinly. Put in a saucepan with the soy sauce and rice wine. If it looks like they need more liquid, add more but keep the proportions the same. Bring to a boil, reduce to a quick simmer, and cook until the mushrooms have absorbed all the liquid. If you like spicy, add the spice sauce of your choice.

Rice
I made one rice cooker cup of short grain brown rice in the rice cooker. If you do it on the stove, good luck, and make about 1/2 cup dry rice (which yields 1 to 1/2 cups cooked rice).

Balls
Take a piece of plastic wrap and put it on your work surface. Using a spoon (dipped in cold water if you really want to), pat out a spoonful of rice to about a palm-sized circle. The rice should be a thin but smooth layer. Place about a teaspoon of mushroom filling in the center, then gather the plastic wrap and bring the whole thing together into a ball. Squeeze or cinch the plastic wrap to smoosh the rice into place. Repeat until you have used all the rice or all the filling, whichever comes first. Mine would have made about 8 rice balls but I ate a bunch of the rice when it first came out. 4 rice balls per person, if accompanied by other stuff, should be plenty.

Sprinkle the top of the rice balls with Japanese rice seasoning of your choice, if you want to get all fancy schmancy like me.

Fun With a Japanese Slicer

I'm about to reveal a little secret. Get ready...get really, really ready...

(I see you leaning into the computer there!)

The best kitchen tool I've bought yet cost me all of $2.50 at the Japanese grocery store.

Ok, that's a bit of a lie. My Santoku knife is actually the best tool ever, which I bought for $80 at Williams-Sonoma (full disclosure: ex-rockstar-teenage-employee of WS) and my second best tool is the rice cooker my mom bought me for Christmas. Or intended to buy for Christmas but knew how excited I would be so gave it to me early (thanks Mom!). But the best NEW tool is the Japanese 4-in-1 slicer. It grates, crinkle cuts, purees (for garlic and ginger) and slices paper thin. I had oodles of fun with it this weekend slicing up cucumbers and grating daikon. I wish it grated more like the food processor julienne blade, but hey, we can't ALL be ex-WS employees with a 40% discount, now can we?

Japanese slicer + Harumi Kurihara's "Harumi's Japanese Cooking" + delicious fresh ingredients = Salad of Many Shapes and Textures with Peanut Miso Dressing!





Recipe (but feel free to vary as your slicing desires take over)
2 carrots, peeled
1 small daikon (6 inches long)
1 small cucumber
A handful of shiso leaves (sub arugula or another spicy green, but shiso is amazing and my newest addiction)

1 T teaspoons miso
1 T unsweetened peanut butter or tahini
a squirt of Sriracha
1 T soy sauce
1 T rice vinegar
a bit of warm water - add 1 T at a time

Using the vegetable peeler, make carrot ribbons. (The slicer failed me on the carrots). Grate the daikon as finely as possible. It should resemble daikon snow. Slice the cucumbers as thinly as possible using the slicer blade. If the cucumbers are especially wet, pat them dry with a paper towel. Wash and dry the shiso or greens and scatter then around. The greens are more of a garnish than a salad base but make a nice textural and flavor contrast, especially the shiso. This would be good with regular lettuce, though, if that's all you have.

Mix the miso, PB, sriracha or hot sauce, soy sauce and rice vinegar in a small bowl. Add a bit of warm water just to make everything come together. Add a bit more to make the dressing liquidy but not too thin. You want it to be pourable but not watery. Assemble your salad in whatever way you prefer and pour the dressing over. You might have more dressing than you need, but that's better than less.

This should be enough for one very big salad (like for a raw foodist or a hungry vegetarian) or two smaller salads.

What Do To With Mushy Figs

When I lived in Brazil, I used to get boxes of figs for R$2,50 during the fig season. Thats ten gorgeously plump, perfectly ripe, bursting with figgyness figs for about a dollar (at least when I lived there). My search for cheap and luscious figs became almost obsessive, and I would scorn the fool who tried to pawn a R$4,00 or even R$5,00 box off on unsuspecting amateurs. These delicious Brazilian figs remain elusive in America, where supermarkets can get away with charging $5 or even $8 for four shriveled little figs that resemble the unmentionables of those not of my gender. Gross. That image alone was enough to shake my addiction (but I'm sorry if it put you all off figs forever, if Sex and the City hadn't already done so).

But my latent addiction was awakened briefly at the sign of some plump, sprightly little Mission figs at my local Whole Paycheck. I caved...I bought them...coveted my little purchase like a prize fighter...I at least waited until being outside to dig in.

And promptly spit that slimy mass of tasteless seeds all over the sidewalk!

But now, I find myself with a basket of tasty-looking (but not tasty-tasting) figs and, true to frugal form, can't bring myself to throw them away. While brewing a big batch of hibiscus tea, the thought came to me. I love that ridiculously expensive fig-black pepper compote that was regularly sampled at the Ann Arbor Whole Paycheck, and the floral depth of hibiscus might compensate for the lack of decent balsamic vingar in my kitchen. Into another saucepan go diced figs, a glug of hibiscus tea, a squizzle of honey, a pinch of salt and a few (very few - like 5) black peppercorns. Set it to simmer, stir frequently while enjoying a cup of hibiscus tea (or hibiscus sangria, if you roll that way) and wait until the mixture is thick and the figs have melted into a rich fruity mess.

So delicious! Shown here with my obscenely self-congratulating meal of Acme Bread green onion slab, Barely Buzzed Cheddar from Beehive Cheese, and a glass of $9 screw-top Carmenére with a fancy schmancy label.

What Not To Do To Eggplant

Regret. Not a sweet feeling. Especially for something that should have been so wonderful and was just so...bittersweet.

Get your mind out of the gutter! I'm talking about eggplant! Or rather, an unfortunate encounter with the remants of my fridge.

Arriving home one night, starving, slightly inebriated from a post-work celebration, I decided to cook some eggplant. Mind you, I love eggplant, and have made eggplant converts out of the most adamant of foes (see "Eggplant Faux-Baba"). But tonight was a Fail with a capital F -- worthy of the eponymous blog.

It all started with an open bottle of beer in the fridge. Not mine -- well, I bought the beer -- but a less than courteous houseguest who thought that fruit flies wouldn't proliferate in the cold. Well, news flash, they do. But being ridiculously frugal, I thought, "Hey, why not try to cook with it?" Images of beer-steamed grilled corn and beer-battered fish and beer-molasses baked beans danced in a slightly blurry way before my eyes. For some reason I had the idea that the English do some weird stew with meat, cheese and beer (which they probably do, by golly, but I haven't the faintest idear of the receipt). Sub in eggplant for meat, add some garlic, pour the beer over the browning eggplant and let it simmer until the eggplant is cooked.

Herein lies the rub: that wonderful Japanese eggplant I swoon over cooks really quickly. And beer evaporates slowly. And melting Rogue Creamery Stout Cheddar into the mix didn't help matters. I ended up with a creamy eggplant-beer soup. That tasted like bitter eggplant, hoppy beer and sharp cheese. One of my few creations that actually tastes worse than the sum of its parts.

Let this be a lesson to you, readers! Cook not when thou hast imbibed. Thou shalt regret it much earlier than morning.

Hey Frittata, I'm gonna beet you up!

You heard me. Frittata, it's about time you got a shakedown. For too long you've been relying on spring vegetables and goat cheese and roasted red peppers. Why not embrace the dark, (calcium)-rich, magenta side of life? You've been satisfying yuppie taste buds for so long with your creamy, overly sweet and fluffy flavors. Get with the bitterness, man. Let it out.

And you, beet greens. Stop diving into the compost bin before your south-of-the-border counterparts can leave their (hand-staining) mark. Stick around and live up to the reputation of your admirable cousin, chard. (Don't try to pick a fight with the Swiss one, though). Live a little. Mix it up, outside the context of garden juice.

This frittata is not nearly as sassy as I wish it were but it's definitely delicious, and you'll now have something to do with all those beet greens. Since I know you all roast your own beets. Cuz, you know, how can you recreate that ubiquitous goat cheese (there it is again!), beet, spinach and candied walnut salad at home?

Beet Greens, Ricotta and Parmesan Frittata

Beet greens from a bunch of 3-4 beets, fat stems discarded, washed and drying while you prep the other ingredients
1 shallot or 1/4 of a red onion, very thinly sliced
2 cloves garlic, minced
salt
olive oil
3/4 - 1 cup fresh ricotta
4 eggs, or up to 6 if you really love eggs
1/4 cup milk or soy milk or cream if you want to go down that road
1/2 cup or more freshly grated Parmesan

Grab a few washed beet greens, roll them up like a cigar and julienne cut from end to end. You are essentially shredding the greens in a very easy way. (Anyone who has been to Brazil, this is how you do couve). Repeat until they are all shredded. Heat some olive oil in a pan and let the shallot warm in the oil. When it starts to sizzle, soften and brown, add the garlic and saute until fragrant. Add the beet greens, sprinkle with salt and give them a stir.

While the greens are softening up, beat the eggs with the milk in a bowl until pretty frothy and well mixed. Stir the greens after breaking every few eggs. When the greens are cooked but not completely killed (i.e., not like southern collards), turn off the heat and stir in the ricotta. Let the greens cool a bit, then combine with the eggs and pour into a small greased baking dish. Small = 8"x8" at max. If you want a bigger frittata, just double everything, or use a lot more eggs for a much eggier and less vegetablely frittata.

Sprinkle the entire top with grated Parmesan. Bake at 400 for about 10 minutes and lower the heat to 350 and bake for about 45. The frittata is done when the top is puffy and browned and a knife inserted comes out relatively clean (not liquid-covered). The frittata will collapse but is delicious warm, cold or reheated.

Lemongrass Mint (Iced) Tea

Scenario 1: Fortune bestows upon you a big bunch of lemongrass for $1 and an equally big bunch of mint, also for $1.

Scenario 2: Misfortune bestows upon you 115 degree heat with no sign of relenting for weeks. You and your friends are enjoying each other's company but melting under the oppressive hand of thermodynamics.

Scenario 3: Lemongrass and Mint Iced Tea rescues your molten, heat-stroked selves from the danger of devolving into a rendition of the "Great Gatsby Opera."

How, you ask, is such alchemy achieved by simply by lemongrass and mint? Here's how:

Take about 6-8 stalks of lemongrass for each 6 quarts of water (I think - a standard pot, but not as big as a pasta pot). Chop off the bottoms, peel off the outer layer (like a green onion), and chop into chunks about three inches long. Smack the chunks with the back of a knife to bruise them, which will let out more lemongrassy essential oils and flavors. Bring the water to a boil, toss in the lemongrass, and let it boil, mostly covered, about 30 minutes or until the infusion smells delicious and tastes sufficiently lemongrassy. When satisfied, turn off the heat and throw in a big handful of mint. If you can cover the mint, the infusion will retain more water and flavor. Let it steep for about 10 minutes at least, and up to a few hours. Strain the tea and chill for as long as necessary. Drink, revel in the refreshment, and vow to make this again, always.

Eggplant Faux-Baba

I love eggplant. If you don't, this post is not for you. If you think there is an inkling that you might, one day, embrace the violet orb, feel free to keep reading.

One of the many things I appreciate about Civic Center Farmer's Market is the abundance of Japanese eggplants. It is hard to find shiny, healthy Japanese eggplants if your community doesn't have the demand. Lucky for me, I live spitting distance from one of the most central, cheapest markets with the largest pan-Asian clientele. I was always skeptical about why Japanese eggplant was so much better -- is it just fetishized like Japanese animation? -- but after cooking with it for a while, realized how much softer, creamier, sweeter and generally more friendly to the cook it is (like anime, but not).

The following recipe emerged because I love baba ghanoush but hate paying for it. And, it tends to be loaded with bitter tahini and taste more like smlooch than like eggplant. It also emerged because a friend who hates eggplant came over when the only thing I happened to have in the fridge was eggplant and we were starving. Enter the ultimate challenge.

The recipe is more of a ratio because you can make as much or as little as you have on hand.

1 or more Japanese eggplants (if you have regular eggplant, use 1 for every 2 Japa's, unless your Japa's are Americanized and huge)
2-3 cloves of garlic, peeled, for each eggplant
a sprinkling of red pepper flakes
a minimal sprinkling of cinnamon - like a pinch
some olive oil
some salt
1-2 Tablespoons tahini (stir it first, please)

Preheat the oven to 375. Cut the eggplant into chunks about 1 in. square. Put them in a roasting pan and add the garlic cloves (whole), the red pepper flakes and the cinnamon. Drizzle the whole thing with some oil, maybe 1 Tablespoon. Japanese eggplant soaks up less oil than regular eggplant so you need less. Sprinkle with some salt, toss again, and roast for 30-45 minutes, stirring every 15 minutes to be sure the eggplant doesn't stick to the pan. The eggplant is done when it is soft all the way through, melts in your mouth when tasting (blow on it first!) and when the garlic is soft.

Put everything into a bowl and smoosh until you can't smoosh no more. Add the tahini and magically everything will transform into a creamy faux-baba. Stir a bit more, add seasoning if necessary, and indulge.

Chez Panisse Magic

Wow. It has been a long, long road since my last post. Literally: I found myself in New Jersey, NYC, San Francisco, Berkeley, back to NYC, with a quick stopover in Vermont before heading to Chicago and finally back to Michigan. It was a long three weeks, but filled with friends and deliciousness!

To start off the amazing food journey, I wanted to share the revelatory meal I had at Chez Panisse. Jimmy and I trekked out to Berkeley on St. Patrick's Day and indulged in a feast of green. I wish I had the actual menu from the day but my attempt at recreating the names will have to suffice. Everything is local, organic, etc - but I can't remember the names of the farms and such from which ingredients were sourced.

1) Local halibut tartare with shaved fennel and lemon vinaigrette
2) Roasted golden and red beet salad with baby lettuces and green goddess dressing
3) Roasted squid with arugula and gremolata
4) Blanched asparagus with capers, parsley, egg and mustard vinaigrette

We sat in a little room off the main dining room on the second floor, where the café is located. Doused in sun with a clear view of the Golden Gate Bridge, we were like two cats napping in the afternoon. Except it was morning, we are human, and at least our taste buds were wide awake.

Fennel Explosion Part I

Fennel is quite possibly one of the most versatile foods. Raw, it is great in salads or a a dipper. Chopped finely and sauteed, it makes a great base for sauces. Roasted, it caramelizes into a meltingly sweet, crisp-tender revelation. And the fronds are perfect for garnish, salad dressings and pestos.

So today, I decided to make fennel three ways: roasted, raw and pesto-ed.

Inspired by a tart my mom made with roasted butternut squash, fennel and gorgonzola; my love for all things roasted and vegetable; and a hankering for something warm and welcoming to come home to at night (in lieu of a man), I made Roasted Fennel and Butternut Squash Soup.

1 fennel bulb, sliced
1 butternut squash, sliced into rounds, then sliced in half again
2 onions, quartered, then quartered again
4 cloves of garlic
a 2-inch chunk of ginger (if you like a bit of heat; if you like sweet, leave it out)
Coarse salt
Olive oil
1/2 cup fennel fronds, finely chopped

Preheat the oven to 400. Toss the fennel, squash, onions, garlic and ginger together with olive oil to coat. Season to taste with coarse salt. Pour the mixture into a baking dish or two, or onto sheet pans - as many as necessary to fit everything. The vegetables can be crowded but should be in one layer. Cover tightly with aluminum foil and bake for about 20-45 minutes, depending on the pan. Shallower or darker pans will require less time.

When the squash and fennel are tender, remove the baking pans. Transfer the contents, including any juices, to a food processor. Let cool for a few minutes, then process until smooth. Add the fennel fronds and process just to incorporate. The soup should be thick but not pasty; if necessary add broth to thin.

Makes about 4 servings.