Penne and Cauliflower

Shadows and light. Autumn.

...

"What's in the oven?"

"I'm roasting cauliflower."

Olive oil, coarse salt and cracked black pepper. It tastes so good, raw like this.

30 minutes (total) under the broiler. 15 minutes. Pull out pan. Redistribute cauliflower. Rotate pan. 15 minutes more. Al dente perfection.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. Pasta with cauliflower and bacon." Roberto's ears perked up. His eyes brightened.

"Cauliflower's good for you."

"We have cream too."

"A touch of cream would be nice."

...

Tiina's post was a divine postcard. My stomach growled, wish you were here. The answer to that ever-plaguing question, what's for dinner, answered.

...

"How do you think nutmeg would taste?"

"Good."

"Should we?"

"Give it a go."

I grated cautiously. Roberto inspected the flecks as they fell. "That's good." He said.

I tapped the nutmeg against the grater.

It was one of two substitutions (nutmeg in lieu of lemon and penne in lieu of pappardelle). Our only omission, pumpkin seeds (which we didn't have).

It's really starting to feel like Fall. Smell like Fall. Taste like Fall.

Late Summer Seconds

"You're always hot and hungry."

"I know."

Mostly Martha Granola Bars

I wanted simple.

...

As I ascended the stairs, the warm smell of oats and peanut butter grew stronger. And once back in the kitchen, I kept sneaking a look. The oven light will surely burn out if I keep this up.

Just 30 minutes in a 325 degree oven. That's all. Nothing fussy.

Inspiration came from many places, but I settled for Martha in the end. Well, mostly Martha. Liberties were taken. Adjustments were made. Ultimately, my own divine interpretation of the granola bar.

...

"What's in them?"

A mental checklist was still fresh. "Egg white. Oats. Chocolate chips. Almonds. Sunflower seeds. Salt. Peanut Butter. Maple syrup. Olive oil. Cinnamon."

"Just one tray?"

"It makes a small batch. I hope they taste okay."

...

Hopes. My life is filled with hopes lately.

I hope I can find a pair of Tretorns with the green logo (just like the ones my mom bought for me all those many years ago) AND winter boots (because I didn't have winter boots last year).

I hope we go to Rome in the Spring.

I hope Roberto's mother likes the greek yogurt I bought for her.

I HOPE. I HOPE. I HOPE.

...

"Are they chewy or crunchy?"

"I think they're supposed to be chewy."

...

They WERE/ARE good. Not too sweet. Filled to the brim with all things good.

...

Mostly Martha Granola Bars

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

In a bowl combine 1 large egg white, 1/2 cup old-fashioned oats, 1/4 cup chocolate chips, 1/2 cup chopped almonds, 1/4 cup sunflower seeds, 1/4 teaspoon fine salt, 1/2 cup natural peanut butter, 1/4 cup grade B maple syrup, 3 tablespoons olive oil, 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon. I used my KitchenAid with the paddle attachment, but a wooden spoon and bowl will work just as well.

Pour mixture into a 9x9 inch pan and pat down using a rubber spatula until it evenly coats.

Bake for 30 minutes.

Cool for 10 minutes.

Invert onto cutting board and slice.

Store in airtight container (I've been keeping ours in the fridge).

...

Dear readers, if you guessed I was speaking of Martha Stewart, you are correct. However, the title of the post and named recipe is a play off of the movie Mostly Martha (the original—not the remake). A movie we love very much. If you haven't see it, please do. It's good cinema eats.

Chocolate Tart and Frank Zappa

Say cheese, Frank.

...

"I remember it like it were now."

— Francesco Luciani

...

It was last Thursday. Just one week ago. Like it were now. I was wondering if Rachel would ever post again. I'll just pop over for some inspiration. Eureka! A chocolate tart.

What if my conversions are incorrect?

...

“How you get there is between you and the dough. This is a case in which the journey is not as important as the destination.”

— Dorie Greenspan

Diner's Journal/The Baker's Apprentice: Galette

...

My conversions were correct.

I threw away my fear of working with dough that day.

The crust, sweet. The chocolate, dense. Pure pleasure. Yes, I will be making this again.

...

"I think that's Dweezil." I said.

"That's not him." He said.

"I think it is." I said.

...

We were just finishing our morning walk when I suggested walking a few blocks more. "Let's see if they have anything set up."

A proud group of Lithuanian's (the Lithuanian's LOVE Frank Zappa) were in town. They had brought with them a bust of Frank Zappa. Yes, Baltimore is Frank Zappa's birthplace. I did not know this. But, it makes sense.

While I'm not a Zappa fan, I do adore the Valley Girl song. I truly do. It's a guilty pleasure, I admit.

It would be hours before the dedication and concert, but a small crowd was gathered. A band was on stage. A sound check was in progress. A scruffy man, dressed in all black was bent over his guitar.

The band serenaded us along with an adoring crowd of ponytailed middle-age men and hippi mothers wearing floppy hats and long flowing skirts twirling with their babies. "Hey...What's new in Baltimore...What's new in Baltimore."

We stood. We watched. We burned under the blazing sun.

"We'll come back later." He said.

"Okay." I said.

...

The crowd had grown. The dedication was starting. The Zappa's, the Lithuanians, Baltimore's mayor, they all took their seats on stage.

I looked at Roberto and pointed towards the stage. "That WAS him! We were watching Dweezil this morning." I said grinning.

String Beans and Potatoes

Fagiolini e Patate al Tegame

...

"Greens and starch all in one—when you serve this next to grilled meat or fish, you will need no other side dish."

– Lidia Matticchio Bastianich (Lidia's Italian Table)

...

The young woman handed over the bag, now filled with late summer tomatoes and green beans. "$4.50."

...

This is simple. I can do this. I did.

...

"I'll just blanch them for tomorrow." I said.

Just blanching felt incomplete. After seven minutes in salted, boiling water, I let the beans sit another five minutes on the counter before rinsing them under cool water. A taste. These are perfect. Perfect.

I peeled two potatoes (Yukon Gold), cubed, and covered with just enough water and salt. Boil.

Fork tines delivered the news. Potatoes ready. A taste. These are perfect. Perfect.

Quickly I drained the potatoes, dumped and spread them onto paper towels where they would linger for a bit while I chopped the garlic (two cloves).

A non-stick pan (our largest non-stick pan) was readied with olive oil, the chopped garlic, and a healthy dose of crushed red pepper (lots). I waited while the flame licked the bottom of the pan.

The moment arrived.

Green beans into the pan. Potatoes into the pan. Salt. Cracked black pepper. A toss and flip. A retrieval of a rogue bean. A taste. Needs a bit more salt. Another toss and flip. Another retrieval. This time, a rogue potato. Steam wafted. The sizzle harmonized with the sound of doneness. A taste. Just right. This is good.

...

"How long did you boil the potatoes?"

"Until they were cooked."

"That's the perfect answer."

Red

Jamie's Italy

...

First, make the sauce.

...

I couldn't help but taste. Over and over.

Olive oil. Onion. Garlic. Dry oregano. Tomatoes. Coarse salt. Cracked black pepper. Parsley. Red wine vinegar.

It reduced. Note how it sticks to the spoon...

...

"I like ours better." I said.

"Yes, but it's nice to change things up. It's good." He said.

"It is good." I said.

I worried over the oregano. Would it taste like pizza sauce?

"It's subtle." He said.

The tension lifted from my shoulders. My face relaxed.

He (Jamie) wanted me to use four cloves of garlic.

"Four!" I said.

I used one nice-sized clove. 

"I used things in proportion to, relative to, the can of tomatoes. Four would have been too much." I said.

Peas, Mushrooms, Prosciutto and Cream

To: Roberto

Tuesday

For dinner I was thinking pasta with mushrooms and prosciutto.
This recipe gave me the idea...

To: Tracy

RE: Tuesday

That sounds good to me.  Do we have mushrooms and cream? 

To: Roberto

RE: Tuesday

We have mushrooms, but the cream might be past its prime.

...

Holding the bottle at a safe distance, I peered down the neck, and then, ever so slowly, brought the cream in question up to my nose. Inhale. Surprise. "It smells okay."

"How long has it been in the refrigerator?"

"Over a week. We bought it last Sunday"

"Pour some into a cup and smell it."

I pulled the house designated when-in-doubt-about-the-cream espresso cup from the cabinet. Roberto wrestled frozen peas into the pan.

Slowly, I tilted the bottle. Thick cream ran beneath a film. A tiny glop took exit, splashing into the cup. Followed by another.

"We've got lumps." I bent over the cup and smelled. "But it smells okay."

"Taste it."

I dipped my pinky into the cream. "It tastes okay. Here...Smell...Taste."

Roberto brought the cup up to his nose and then took a tiny sip. "It's not sour. I think it's fine."

"I say we use it."

"We'll need a little more if we're using it."

I brought the cup back to the counter and proceeded to top off the cream. More lumps. "This will have to do. I'm going to throw the rest out." I pulled a demitasse spoon from the drawer and proceeded to fish for rogue glops. "This will be plenty." I said, trying to reassure Roberto, as well as myself.

Sunday Supper

MENU

– First Course –

fettucine with basil pesto

(basil, olive oil, garlic, pine nuts, cracked black pepper, parmesan)

– Second Course –

sauté of italian sausages with onion

(hot and mild links, yellow onion, olive oil, coarse salt, cracked black pepper)

greek salad

(mixed greens, late summer tomato, cucumber, red onion, feta,

coarse salt, cracked black pepper, olive oil, red wine vinegar)

crusty italian boule

mixed olives

red wine

(gnarled vine zinfandel)

– Third Course – 

chocolate cake

(three layer chocolate cake)

espresso

"I'm making skawns."

Scones...My thoughts were never far away.

Saturday morning...Sunday morning...Monday morning...Blueberries scones (warmed in the toaster oven) and coffee.

...

We needed eggs and fresh cream from the market.

The young man at the dairy stand always looks a bit puzzled. I didn't want to add to his puzzlement, but I did.

"If I exchange the milk bottle for a cream bottle this week can I exchange the cream bottle for a milk bottle the following week?" I asked.

"Uh..."

"That's okay, I'll just buy the cream outright."

The puzzled young man bounded into the truck to retrieve the cream. I scanned the prices. Cream $4/pint.

The puzzled young man returned and passed me the pint of cream. My free hand passed him $4. "That will be $5.50." He said.

"Oh, I..." Now I looked puzzled.

"You can exchange the milk bottle for the cream. Then it will be $4." He  said.

"If I exchange the milk bottle for a cream bottle this week can I exchange the cream bottle for a milk bottle the following week?" I asked once more.

"Yes, any size bottle is exchangeable." He said.

"Great. Okay." I handed him the milk  bottle and then the $4.

...

"I'm making skawns."

"What kind?"

"Lemon/almond."

...

The cream was thicker. The sugar, coarser. I chopped the almonds and grated the lemon zest.

The oven was set to 400 degrees. The sheet pan was lined with parchment.

I gently beat two large eggs and stirred in the cream.

The dry ingredients were added to the food processor, followed by six tablespoons cold unsalted butter. Pulse.

I added the lemon zest. Pulse.

I transferred everything to a bowl.Mixed in the almonds. Created a well. Poured in the eggs and cream. Mixed until barely just combined. Poured onto a lightly floured surface. Kneaded and squished with delicate fear. Shaped into a square. Sliced into eight wedges. Transferred to the lined sheet pan. Brushed with cream. Topped with coarse raw sugar. Slid into the oven.

Phew.

...

"These are a little bit dryer than the blueberry ones." I said.

"How come?" Roberto asked.

"I think the blueberries added more moisture." I said.

I tore off a crumbly nub to taste.

"Delicious." I said.

...

Lemon Almond Scones: A recipe

...

1) Preheat oven to 400 degrees and line a sheet pan with parchment paper.

2) Lightly beat two large eggs and stir in 1/3 cup heavy cream and set aside.

2) Zest one lemon and set aside.

4) Coarsely chop 1/2 cup almonds and set aside.

5) In a food processor combine 2 cups all-purpose flour, 4 tablespoons sugar, 1 tablespoon baking powder, 3/4 teaspoon salt and pulse. Add lemon zest and pulse.

6) Transfer to a bowl and stir in almonds.

7) Create a well in center of bowl and add in eggs and cream. Stir until just combined.

8) Transfer onto a lightly floured surface. Dust top lightly with flour. Squish and knead three to four turns and shape into six inch square. Slice into four squares. Slice those squares diagonally. You should have eight wedges.

9) Transfer to parchment lined cookie sheet. Brush with heavy cream and sprinkle generously with coarse sugar.

10) Bake at 400 degrees for 20 minutes.

My First Scone

They looked so heavy on the sheet pan. My heart was seizing. You've been nothing but trouble.

Their cavity puffed.

You are my first scone, after all.

...

"What did you make?" He asked.

"Blueberry scones." I replied.

"No chocolate cake?" He asked.

"Chocolate cake is tomorrow." I replied.

...

I put a cooling rack on the kitchen table and proceeded to lift the scones, one at a time, from the sheet pan. Light as a feather. Exhale. Smile. Taste of a crumbly nub. Oh wow. This is good.