4 days, 6 recipes, 1 brunch

Oh, and a dinner with friends. And a movie. And a new bed. And a massage. And wedding dress shopping with Margherita, and a 3-mile run in Sunday's unseasonably sultry weather. Can we all just agree how much better the world would be if we had four-day weekends all the time? Here are some highlights from my mini-vacation.

Butternut Squash Puree and Cheddar Crisps
For the past few months, I've been under a spell called Orangette. Molly, Orangette's owner, spins the prettiest food stories I've ever read, not to mention that all her photos literally pop off the page. And although there was that one time when Daniel and I made enough noodle salad to feed a small village, her recipes have never led me astray. On Thanksgiving I sampled possibly two of her best.

Let me start by saying that when I think of Thanksgiving, one dish comes to mind: sweet potatoes. I love them so much that last year, I threw a turkey day tantrum when Daniel started playing his let's-not-follow-the-recipe game with my favorite side dish. His final product did quiet bratty little me, but I still thought it'd be safer to make them myself this year.

After searching for a recipe that fit a lot of requirements (travels well, doesn't need to be baked), I surprisingly switched over to the butternut squash side with this velvety puree.


Easy to make and sweetened with just a hint of maple syrup, I'm pretty sure it will shove sweet potatoes off my Thanksgiving table every year.

I originally planned to bring just a side dish to my Thanksgiving dinner, then Molly's story about these cheddar crisps sent me on a search for a really sharp cheddar.


If you're like me and don't intend to eat 100 of these buttery, flaky, and completely addictive crisps (though you will be tempted), freeze a portion of the dough for future use. And if you also have no idea what nigella seeds are, look around in your cabinets for a different seasoning. We had some leftover pink peppercorns that were particularly fun and festive. And Molly's right as usual -- the black pepper ones go great with a glass of Champagne.

Escarole and Orzo Soup with Turkey-Parmesan Meatballs
On Friday, this soup made it to the top of my recipes I need to make pile, though some homemade chicken stock, leftover parsley, and a bag of breadcrumbs (a Del Posto parting gift) gave it a boost. I rolled the garlic-packed turkey meatballs between my palms, then plopped them in a pot along with some escarole and orzo.


It was the perfect post-Thanksgiving meal -- healthy, but hearty -- and the leftover bowl I savored at my desk Monday made it a little easier to be back at work.

A Brazilian Brunch
Many of you might know how I feel about brunch. Which is why I'm happy to report that Buzina Pop, a bi-level Brazilian restaurant on the Upper East Side might help me reconsider. It was there that Daniel and I filled up on feijoada, Brazil's national dish after spending a shocking amount of money on a measly new mattress. A meaty stew that's traditionally only served on Saturdays, feijoada is best when followed by a very long and necessary nap.


If I'd remembered my camera, I would have taken pictures of our filled-to-the-brim clay bowls of meat and beans, my bottle of Brahma beer, our booth's funky, green plastic tiles, the black toilet paper in the bathroom, and the swirly floor (reminiscent of the sidewalks in Rio).

A Luxurious Dinner and Dance Party USA
Our feijoada brunch was followed just a few hours later by a fancy-schmancy dinner at Margherita and Dante's. Marg, Dante and I have been part of a close-knit (or better said, incestuous) group of friends since middle school. When they get married in October, I guarantee you that another friend, Nina, will point out in her speech (before someone confiscates the microphone) that we've all known eachother for "over twenty years!!!"

On this particular evening, we toasted their recent engagement, paired Prosecco with some of the leftover cheddar crisps, then Marg and Dante spoiled us with a first course starring this pricey little sucker.


Dante made Lidia Bastianich’s basic risotto and topped each of our servings with a few delicate shavings.


Though it had a strong, earthy smell, we were all a bit underwhelmed by the truffle’s actual flavor (which made me feel a lot better about the $40 I once forked over at Il Buco for a similarly subtle dish).

Next came salt encrusted branzino, which Dante covered with Hawaiian pink sea salt, French grey salt, and Peruvian pink sea salt.


It was definitely the best part of the meal. I didn't lift a finger, but my hosts assure me that it's so very easy*.


After dinner, we worked everything off with a mini dance party. Daniel got a bit carried away during his air guitar rendition of Sweet Child O' Mine and accidentally smashed his hand into a wooden chair. Puffiness, bruising and ice pack on the ride home aside, it was still pretty funny.



Ina Garten's Chicken Chili
I might have been disappointed by Ina Garten's apple crisp, but on Sunday I fell in love with her chicken chili.


Unlike other chilis I've made, this one, much to Daniel's dismay, doesn’t contain any beans and you roast the chicken in the oven while simmering a pot full of peppers and spices on the stove.

Everything was moving along nicely until it came time to add two cans of whole peeled plum tomatoes (which you crush by hand into the pot). After squeezing the first bunch, I noticed a strange, green discoloration -- on the can, not the tomatoes -- that looked very suspicious. It scared even me and I've sliced my fair share of mold off of bread and cheese that's been lingering too long in the fridge.

I gave it a sniff, then made Daniel give it a taste and while singing a "I hope I don't get botulism" song, I threw the rest in before demanding that the can be removed from my sight. I had my last bowl of the stuff for lunch today and I'm still alive, so I guess it was nothing to worry about?

Nigel Slater's Bread
Clearly I must have been a bit loopy from all the cooking and eating I did all weekend (or maybe it was the green can fungus??) because while also making Nigel Slater's bread on Sunday night, I forgot to add in salt, one of the recipe's four ingredients.

I really expected to like this bread better than the No-Knead one I made last weekend. You actually get to play with the dough (which Daniel, bum hand and all, really enjoyed), and it even yields a big ball of a loaf.


In terms of taste, it would have been much better had I not forgotten the salt, and though I told Daniel repeatedly to let the bread cool, he didn’t wait long before cutting off a huge chunk.


If the loaf had more time to settle, it probably wouldn't have been quite as doughy and while it tasted delicious with the assortment of Scharffen Berger chocolate we slathered on top, I preferred it the next morning, toasted with butter, honey, and a sprinkling of salt.

The Weekend That Keeps On Giving
On Monday, I sent Daniel an email from work about an idea I had for a vanilla bean that's been sitting on our spice rack for way too long. I expected him to respond and say: STEP AWAY FROM THE STOVE, but instead, he immediately agreed with more exclamation points than usual.


And you see, that’s the beauty of a four-day weekend, for a food lover at least. You're able to do so much cooking that on Monday night, after a long day at work, you come home to leftover chicken chili and a fresh loaf of bread. And for dessert, you make a homemade quart of vanilla ice cream**.

*For those of you interested in Dante and Marg’s salt encrusted branzino, here's what you need to do. Buy a whole branzino and have your fishmonger clean and scale it, but leave on the head, skin and tail. At home, wash the fish and then pat dry with a paper towel. Fill up a bowl with 3 tablespoons good olive oil and dip the fish in the bowl to coat. Make sure you coat the entire fish. Generously cover the fish with various salts (they use Hawaiian pink sea salt, French grey salt, Peruvian pink sea salt, and coarse salt). Add some pepper as well. Place aluminum foil in pan. Once top and bottom of fish are covered with salt, place it on the pan and bake in the oven at 400 degrees for 20 minutes or until fish is cooked through. Remove skin and debone. Yield: One whole branzino serves two.

**To make the vanilla ice cream, we used the following recipe from Cook's Illustrated. It was our first time making what Daniel refers to as a "normal" flavor, since previous experiments included this pink peppercorn and these mint cookie sandwiches. It was definitely the best ice cream we've made yet.

1 1/2 cups whole milk
1 1/2 cups heavy cream
3/4 cup granulated sugar
4 inch piece vanilla bean, split lengthwise and seeds removed, pod reserved (if necessary, two teaspoons of vanilla extract may be substituted for the vanilla bean. To maximize the extract's potency, stir it into the chilled custard just before churning)
4 large egg yolks

1. Bring milk, cream, 1/2 cup sugar and vanilla seeds and pod to 175 degrees in a heavy saucepan over medium heat, stirring occasionally to dissolve sugar and break up vanilla seeds.

2. Meanwhile, beat remaining sugar with yolks until mixture turns pale yellow and thickens so that it falls in ribbons, about 2 minutes with an electric mixer or 4 minutes with a whisk.

3. Remove 1/2 cup hot milk from pan and slowly whisk it into beaten yolks. Then gradually whisk yolk mixture into saucepan and, stirring constantly, heat this mixture over medium-low heat to 180 degrees, 8 to 10 minutes. Remove saucepan from heat; strain custard into a plastic or nonreactive metal bowl. Retrieve vanilla pods from strainer and add them to the mixture. Place bowl in a larger bowl of ice water to bring custard to room tempeartaure.

4. Seal container and refrigerate until custard is no more than 40 degrees, 4 to 8 hours. (This is unnecessary with self-contained electric model). Remove vanilla pods (or add extract) and pour custard into an ice cream machine. Churn until frozen.

Turn on some lights, Aurora!

For our November get together, the Brooklyn girls and I found comforting Italian food at Aurora. I don't visit Williamsburg too often, but dinner a few days earlier at Roebling Tea Room made it my second trip in one week. If you ever go there, get the roast chicken.

But back to Bklyn Girls Night.

Located at the end of a fairly desolate street, Aurora is a warm and cozy surprise with a dark wooden bar, exposed brick, wide plank floors and high ceilings. I arrived a good fifteen minutes early (definitely the first time that has ever happened!), and used the extra time to linger over the menu. Once the rest of the girls arrived, we were seated in the restaurant's winterized garden.

All of Aurora's homemade pastas were enticing (and thankfully there were only 5 to choose from), but the buckwheat ravioli filled with chestnut and fontina won over six of us. Indecisive as usual, I convinced Roxanne to split them and a seafood stew with me.

While sitting at the bar before everyone arrived, I loved the slight glow coming from small paper bags scattered throughout the restaurant. When it came time to eat, I felt like an old lady, poking at my food and sticking my face close to everything so I could get a better look. All of the couples canoodling at nearby tables didn't seem to mind the low-lit, romantic vibe, but for someone who needs to photograph her food, I was slightly frustrated. With Roxanne's undying devotion to the success of This Little Piglet, we managed to get a few.


Topped with chaneterelle and porcini mushrooms, the ravioli was buttery and cloud-like with a smooth and subtle chestnut filling. I would have liked a bit more sweetness in the dish but it sent the rest of the table swooning.

I was less impressed with the seafood stew. It had a nice amount of lobster, clams, calamari and snapper, but with only a little broth, it didn't feel particuarly stewy to me.


Maggie was in charge of ordering the wine and she found us a great red from Italy's Piedmont region (where my Italian relatives happen to live), though I of course forgot to write down the name.

For someone who loves desserts, I'm sorry to say that Italian sweets never really wow me. Aurora's selection was no different, but true to form, I still managed to lick the plates clean. My favorite was the chocolate and chestnut cake that Judith ordered. The consistency resembled cheesecake, though its crust crunched like a piece of biscotti.

I couldn't get any of the desserts to perk up for a picture, so we decided to have a Bklyn Girls Night photo shoot instead.


Here is Maggie deep in thought about something while the guy behind her throws back a buckwheat ravioli in one bite. Look closely and you'll see what I mean.


Molly smiles for the camera while showing how damn dark it is inside Aurora.


It was Megan's first Brooklyn Girls Night and though Judith and I told her how lucky she was to join the group right before we closed membership (it's too hard to coordinate more than ten New York City agendas at once), I still couldn't resist inviting four more people during Allison's birthday dinner last weekend. Sorry Juuuuuudy!


Judith and Roxanne discuss how much they love my blog, especially this list of restaurant recommendations.

Judith: Isn't This Little Piglet THE BEST? I don't know how I ever lived without it.

Roxanne: I know, I can't let a day go by without finding out where and what she's eaten.

(For those of you wondering, Roxanne selected Knife + Fork for her birthday dinner).


Roxanne and I demonstrate other fun uses for the glowing paper bags. If you find yourself at Aurora without any cash, I have two things to tell you. There's an ATM in the back of the restaurant, but bring one of these along since it's pitch black back there too. Otherwise, you might end up taking out $40 more than you need like I did.

Thanks ladies for another wonderful evening! Looking forward to our next outing in Carroll Gardens. We'll be starting with wine and cheese at Lucy's second shoe/clothing store, Lucia, located on the corner of Smith St. and Douglass, followed by dinner at Robin de Bois. (To anyone reading this who lives in the neighborhood: If you're tired of all the pricey boutiques, Lucy and her shop are sure to cheer you up. Go there now!).

Aurora
70 Grand Street
Brooklyn, NY
718-388-5100

Pumpkin butter gooey cakes

Ever since I first made them four years ago, Paula Deen's pumpkin butter gooey cakes have been the star of my family's Thanksgiving feast.

The recipe is quite simple and starts off with a box of yellow cake mix, a stick of melted butter and an egg. After pressing the doughy mixture into a 13x9 inch pan, a fluffy filling made with pumpkin puree, another stick of butter, sugar, three eggs, a few spices and a tub of cream cheese is spread on top. The result is a buttery concoction that's like pumpkin pie on steroids. It's less spicy, much sweeter and blessed with a rich, crumbly crust.

The first year I made them, a pre-Thanksgiving celebration with friends left me tired and careless when it came time to bake. This must be why I accidentally put in an additional 1/4 cup of oil and 3 extra eggs. Everyone in my family, even a couple of pumpkin phobes, couldn't get enough.

After banishing all products with hydrogenated oils from my kitchen the second year, I tried to recreate my own yellow cake mix using Magnolia Bakery's vanilla cake recipe. The crust came out a bit dry, but everyone was still just as obsessed with the little, gloppy squares.

That was the same year that Henry, my 2-year old cousin threw a temper tantrum at 6am the morning after Thanksgiving. After thrashing around for a few minutes, he suddenly looked at me with his tear-streaked face and said, "Do we have any more of that cake?" I immediately cut him a big, fat piece, scooped some whipped cream on top, and just like that, he became cute and peaceful once again.

This year Daniel and I are celebrating Thanksgiving with a different set of relatives, and the hostess herself is an unbelievable baker. I contemplated bringing along a batch of the butter gooeys, but have settled on a side dish instead.

But this weekend, I couldn't stop thinking about the sugar-packed squares. A perfect once-a-year-treat, I decided to serve them at the end of an impromptu pre-Thanksgiving feast I made for Daniel, Judith and Tim last night, and now I'm sharing them with all of you.

This time, I used an organic cake mix that I picked up during my never-ending search for instant yeast on Saturday. I tinkered with the recipe once again, adding only half a box of powdered sugar to the pumpkin filling, rather than the full carton as Paula instructed.

The pumpkin was just as smooth against that rich, buttery crumb, and for some probably still a little too sweet. Next time, I think I'll use a bit less sugar and even cut back on some of the butter.

But that's the beauty of these resilient little suckers. No matter how you change around the recipe, they always taste so good. And, you'll most likely never crave plain, old pumpkin pie again.



Pumpkin Butter Gooey Cakes
Adapted from Paula Deen
(I tried to take a good picture of these, but didn't have much luck. You can find a better shot here).

Cake:
1 (18 1/4-ounce) package yellow cake mix
1 egg
8 tablespoons butter, melted

Filling:
1 (8-ounce) package cream cheese, softened
1 (15-ounce) can pumpkin
3 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
8 tablespoons butter, melted
1 (16-ounce) box powdered sugar (Feel free to play around with this as I did. A little sugar really does go a long way)
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon nutmeg

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

Combine the cake mix, egg, and butter and mix well with an electric mixer. Pat the mixture into the bottom of a lightly greased 13 by 9-inch baking pan.

To make the filling: In a large bowl, beat the cream cheese and pumpkin until smooth. Add the eggs, vanilla, and butter, and beat together. Next, add the powdered sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and mix well. Spread pumpkin mixture over cake batter and bake for 40 to 50 minutes. Make sure not to overbake as the center should be a little gooey.

Serve with fresh whipped cream.

I jumped on the bread bandwagon

This week, it seemed like every food blogger was making bread. Using a recipe from John Lahey of Sullivan Street Bakery (featured on November 8th in Mark Bittman's column in The New York Times) everyone had a success story to share. They all promised the recipe was foolproof, then displayed proud photos of their perfect, plump loaves.

The recipe called for instant yeast, which I soon learned, is different than the active dry yeast that comes in those little packets. Thinking it'd be simple enough to find some, I went to Met Food on Smith Street, to Govinda, an organic market on Atlantic Avenue, to yet another all natural store on Union and Court Street, and then all the way to Perelandra in Brooklyn Heights.

It was there that I desperately asked a store manager if they had any instant yeast. Before telling me that they didn't have any, he said, "What the heck is going on? You are probably the tenth person who has asked if we have that!" It was nice to know that half of New York City was baking fresh bread this week, though I didn't appreciate that all of us in Brooklyn were being denied instant yeast.

I made one last effort at Key Food on Atlantic Avenue where I found fresh yeast in the dairy section. I remembered reading one blog that said instant yeast was usually located there, so I ran home, with just an hour to get my bread assembled before heading to Allison's 30th birthday party in the city.


Unfortunately, fresh yeast is not the same thing as instant yeast, but at this point, I was not about to give up. Looking at the two types of yeast that I did have, instinct told me to go with the dry stuff, so I mixed it with the other ingredients, crossed my fingers and left the bread to rest.


The recipe said to let it sit for 12-18 hours, and although we didn't get home from Allison's birthday till 2am, I still set my alarm for 8:30am to ensure that Daniel could have some fresh bread before heading to work at 12:30. I think I should win wife of the year.

When I woke up, the bread was covered with little bubbles as the recipe said it would be, so it seemed as if my active dry yeast was working just fine. I removed the sticky dough from the bowl, folded it over once, twice, wrapped it in kitchen towels dusted with flour and left it for two more hours before jumping back into bed.


Though I had generously floured the towels, the dough still stuck to them quite a bit when I transferred it to my Le Creuset pot. Within minutes of popping the pot into the oven, my apartment smelled heavenly.

After baking for thirty minutes, I took off the lid, snapped a few pictures and baked it for fifteen more minutes.


That last stretch was especially painful for Daniel, who somehow managed to get up and go to the gym this morning, and therefore, was starving. When I finally slipped the loaf out of the pot and onto a cooling rack, it really did crackle and pop as it cooled, just as a few people had said it would. I had made my own bread and it was beautiful!


We tried to let it cool a little before cutting our first slices, but after just about five minutes Daniel attacked the loaf. As the bread's crispy outer layer shattered to reveal a soft, chewy interior, he cursed with joy in Portuguese.


We ate our first few slices with soft boiled eggs and hunks of butter, then slathered a few pieces with honey.

Despite my unsuccessful search for instant yeast, this recipe really is so easy and rewarding. The satisfaction of making your own fresh bread from scratch is like no other. Now I just need to figure out what I can make with the fresh yeast that's sitting in my fridge.

No-Knead Bread
Adapted from Jim Lahey, Sullivan Street Bakery
Time: About 1½ hours plus 14 to 20 hours’ rising

3 cups all-purpose or bread flour, more for dusting
¼ teaspoon instant yeast
1¼ teaspoons salt
Cornmeal or wheat bran as needed.

1. In a large bowl combine flour, yeast and salt. Add 1 5/8 cups water, and stir until blended; dough will be shaggy and sticky. Cover bowl with plastic wrap. Let dough rest at least 12 hours, preferably about 18, at warm room temperature, about 70 degrees.

2. Dough is ready when its surface is dotted with bubbles. Lightly flour a work surface and place dough on it; sprinkle it with a little more flour and fold it over on itself once or twice. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let rest about 15 minutes.

3. Using just enough flour to keep dough from sticking to work surface or to your fingers, gently and quickly shape dough into a ball. Generously coat a cotton towel (not terry cloth) with flour, wheat bran or cornmeal; put dough seam side down on towel and dust with more flour, bran or cornmeal. Cover with another cotton towel and let rise for about 2 hours. When it is ready, dough will be more than double in size and will not readily spring back when poked with a finger.

4. At least a half-hour before dough is ready, heat oven to 450 degrees. Put a 6- to 8-quart heavy covered pot (cast iron, enamel, Pyrex or ceramic) in oven as it heats. When dough is ready, carefully remove pot from oven. Slide your hand under towel and turn dough over into pot, seam side up; it may look like a mess, but that is O.K. Shake pan once or twice if dough is unevenly distributed; it will straighten out as it bakes. Cover with lid and bake 30 minutes, then remove lid and bake another 15 to 30 minutes, until loaf is beautifully browned. Cool on a rack.

Yield: One 1½-pound loaf.

Di Fara: Pizza that's worth the wait

I will go practically anywhere to find good food. When I spent a year in Paris, I woke up one morning and declared I wanted Belgian waffles. So what did I do? I boarded a train that very morning and went to Belgium to get some.

Which is why I’m embarrassed to admit that it’s taken me six whole years as a Brooklyn resident to finally visit Di Fara, home to what many believe is New York’s best pizza. With Grimaldi’s a 15-minute walk from my apartment, and plenty of places to grab a slice, it just seemed too far away.

Then I started reading food blogs this summer, and it seemed like everyone had a story to tell about Di Fara and its 70-year old owner, Domenico DeMarco. Descriptions of his perfectionistic approach to pizza made me realize it was time to make the trek.


Located on Avenue J in Midwood, Di Fara is a non-descript spot with just 5 or 6 tables and peach walls that could use a good scrub. It took a little over 10 minutes for Daniel and I to get there by car and we now know that the Q train is just a few feet away.

Ever since Domenico opened Di Fara over 40 years ago, he has made every single pizza himself. He works 7 days per week, 12 hours per day and only takes 3 1/2 days off per year. He has seven children who often help him, though they’re usually relegated to taking orders and stirring pots of sauce. On the rare occasion that their dad gets sick, the entire place shuts down.

The night we were there, Domenico shuffled back and forth between a marble slab covered with flour, cans of Filippo Berrio and an antique cash register while his daughter Maggie manned the counter.
He was hard at work when we arrived, diligently preparing each pie and only looking up once or twice to smile at a regular. Sometimes he muttered a few words with his thick, Italian accent but for the most part, he was a man of few words. It was all about the pizza.


He gave each pie his undivided attention, repeating a meticulous set of steps very slowly. There weren’t large tubs of grated cheese or enormous vats of sauce to help move the process along. He made each pie one by one, breaking up balls of Buffalo mozzarella and making mini mounds of Grana padano with a hand crank grater.


Each pie received a generous swirl of olive oil before going in the oven, and the minute it came out, Domenico completed the final—and my favorite—part of the process.


He fetched a fresh bundle of basil and ceremoniously snipped off a few pieces.


When Maggie started handing out slices, Daniel and I joined the crowds of people waiting and lucked out with the last two.


Unlike many of the doughy, thick slices sold throughout the city, these were a bit more delicate, flimsy even, but perhaps because they’re only eaten fresh from the oven while the cheese is dripping off. Each bite was complex, the tangy and slightly sweet tomato sauce mingling with the mellow mozzarella and more pungent Grana padano, and the small puddles of olive oil so rich, fragrant and filling.

I'm a sucker for a good slice of Sicillian and Di Fara definitely serves one of the best I've ever tasted. To achieve its crackly crust, Domenico first bakes the dough by itself and then a second time once all the other ingredients have been added.


It was thick without being too bready and came with the perfect proportion of cheese and sauce. Domenico's slow as molasses style made it easy to eat a corner slice, digest a bit and then tackle another.

As a first time visitor, the long wait didn’t bother me. I passed the time by reading almost all the articles hung haphazardly on the walls, then stood at the counter with a crowd of other customers, hypnotized by Domenico's gentle manner and stubborn devotion. What impressed me the most is that no one, and not even a very hungry man who looked and sounded a lot like Tony Soprano the night we were there, muttered a single complaint.


People seemed to recognize and appreciate Domenico’s dedication. It was easy to get antsy, or even territorial. When pies popped out of the oven, his daughter tried to pass them out to the people she thought had been waiting the longest, but such a system didn't always work.

If you’re lucky like we were, the wait won’t even be that long (we managed to eat three slices each over the course of an hour). And should you get stuck there even longer, rest assured that it's so very worth it.

Di Fara
1424 Avenue J
Brooklyn, NY
718-258-1367

Wednesday's dinner and my first meme

Ever since Anne tagged me a few weeks ago for my first meme (topic: what would you make if you had a bunch of food bloggers over for dinner), I've been meaning to post about it.

But just like the other posts I've been meaning to write about recent visits to Per Se, Jean-Georges, Burger Joint, and Pala, I just haven't gotten around to it. I can't keep up people! I eat three full meals every day (often with sweet snacks in between) but just don't have enough time or energy to write about them all. It's times like these that I have NO idea how Luisa is writing really good posts every single day this month as a part of NaBloPoMo. Not to mention that she's also able to still cook up a storm and read books in practically one sitting. I give her serious credit.

So, in the spirit of killing two birds with one stone, I'm going to tell you about a dinner Daniel and I hosted for five of our friends on Wednesday night. Since it was such a smashing success (April, Josh, Allison, Mark and Marie, feel free to back me up here!), I know it'd be the perfect meal to serve a bunch of food obsessed bloggers (provided none are vegetarian of course).

To start, we served one of our favorite fall dishes: pumpkin ravioli with a sage brown butter sauce using this recipe from Chow. We did not make the ravioli from scratch (it was a weeknight after all), but our local butcher has a great selection of homemade ones that we stock our freezer with every fall. In addition to grated parmiggiano, we encouraged everyone to sprinkle crushed amaretti cookies on top.


I know what you're thinking. Crumbling cookies over a plate of pasta? Our friends seemed surprised as well, but believe me, it's good. The almond flavor adds a sweetness to the lightly spiced pumpkin filling, not to mention that sharp parmiggiano and a buttery sauce taste even better when clingy to crunchy cookie bits. If you're fond of salty and sweet combinations, as I am, you'll particularly like it. It's such a good combination that even Mario Batali grates a couple on top of the Pumpkin "Lune" at Babbo.

Since Daniel had the week off from work, he was in charge of the main course. I pushed hard for short ribs hoping he'd make a recipe I found on Epicurious that combines chocolate and rosemary, but he had his heart set on duck.

Unlike me (and often to my dismay), Daniel doesn't always rely on recipes. He sometimes consults a few and then goes off on his own, mixing and matching ingredients that he hopes will work well together. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don't, but this time around, he created a winning combination.


Tired of all the fruity sauces that restaurants pair with gamy meats, he roasted the duck* in a homemade glaze and went a more traditional route with a rich gravy. We all oohed and ahhed in between every bite.

For side dishes, he settled on Wolfgang Puck's braised red cabbage and pearl onions roasted with duck fat inspired by this Tyler Florence recipe.


He tweaked the braised cabbage recipe slightly by adding apple cider in addition to the apple cider vinegar it called for which he thought would have been too acidic. The result? A tangy side dish that paired perfectly with the juicy duck.


The pearl onions were good, but a bit bland compared to the other more vibrant dishes. I liked how they crisped up a bit after being roasted in the duck fat and didn't mind their delicate flavor, but Daniel thinks roasted potatoes would have worked better.

For dessert, I decided to make a tarte tatin**, the one exception to my rule of diligent recipe reliance (thanks to my friend Chris who taught me how easy it was to make one at an election party two years ago -- my only fond memory from that painful night). However, this time around, I prepared the apples using a tarte tatin recipe that Molly recently posted, and also asked Mark and Allison to pick up the bottle of Tokaji that she recommended serving alongside each piece.


My final product didn't look nearly as beautiful as hers, but it still tasted pretty darn good. On the side, I served vanilla ice cream and my favorite companion to tarte tatin: thick, 2% Greek yogurt which helps cut the sweetness quite a bit. The Tokaji was a nice fancy touch, though I think after such a heavy meal, a dessert wine wasn't really necessary. I think it'd be best enjoyed with the tart after a lighter meal, or just the two together as a midday treat.

As much as I like to try out new recipes, I think this entire meal would be perfect for a food bloggers dinner, preferably in the fall. I'd invite Anne from Good American Housewife, Andrea from Madison & Mayberry, Luisa from The Wednesday Chef, Molly from Orangette, and their signifcant others Fred, Ryan, Ben and Brandon as well. And then I'd add that dinner to my ever-growing list of things I need to write about.

*Since Daniel's duck was so delicious, I asked him to try and recount what he did for me. Here's the basic gist. He bought two ducks (he doesn't remember how many pounds they both were, but I'd say about 3lbs each) which he trimmed of extra fat, rinsed, patted dry and then rubbed generously with kosher salt and black pepper. In our food processor, he made a glaze by combining sherry vinegar, stone ground mustard, currant jelly, a hunk of ginger, three cloves of garlic, salt, four sage leaves and some orange juice (to help it from becoming too thick). He cooked the duck breast side up in a roasting pan (with a little bit of water in it to keep the drippings from burning since this was the same pan he used to make gravy) at 350 degrees for approximately 3 hours, turning and basting them with the sauce every 30-45 minutes. To make the gravy, he skimmed off the fat (about a pint in total, though some was used to make the onions), then deglazed the drippings with port and red wine, and thickened it with some flour.

**I never use puff pastry for my tarte tatin and instead prefer to make a crust from scratch. It's really easy. Cut up 1 stick of chilled butter (I keep a few extra sticks in the freezer at all times) into small pieces and put in a food processor with 1 cup of flour. While pulsing, slowly drizzle in 1/4 cup ice cold water until the mixture forms a ball. Flatten the ball into a disk, wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for an hour or so rolling it out.

My Mom, leftovers and a lasagna

When it comes to food, my Mom and I are exactly alike. We never skip breakfast. We bring homemade salads to work. We have large recipe collections—a bulging accordion file for me and a closet containing every issue of Gourmet and Bon Appétit since 1997 for her. We like to cook by ourselves. And we love leftovers.

After a dinner party ten years ago, my Mom froze a batch of homemade arugula pesto for future use. A few months later, she swept it on pasta noodles topped with tomato sauce, hot and sweet Italian sausage, and a mixture of mild mozzarella, sharp Romano and velvety ricotta. The contrasting flavors made each bite complex, but it was the bursts of heat from the peppery pesto and hot sausage that I liked best. And whereas other lasagnas always seemed too dry, this one's saucy consistency begged for fat slices of bread.

Just a few weeks after she came up with the recipe, Polly-O announced a New York Searches for the Perfect Lasagna contest. My Mom entered and never one for modesty, confidently claimed that she was going to win. The oversized $5,000 check from Polly-O still hangs in her kitchen today.

When I needed to raise money for a half marathon I ran a few years ago, friends forked over $40 for an open bar and a couple slices of her award-winning lasagna. In college, I had a small role in a production of Midsummer Night’s Dream. My Mom drove a few hours to see me deliver my lines and afterward, the whole cast, still in costume, devoured the two lasagnas she brought along with her. Every year when Daniel and I throw a Brazilian BBQ, someone always asks, “Is your Mom bringing her lasagna?”

It took ten years before I tried to make the lasagna myself. The first time, I didn’t realize how long it really took and was still making the homemade arugula pesto when guests arrived. Annoyed, I remembered my high school French teacher telling my entire class about her frustrating experience with the recipe. “It says 1 hour and fifty minutes. It took me the whole day!”

When I made it the second time, two weeks ago, I did something my Mom and I both don’t usually do: I asked for help in the kitchen.

Amanda and I gave the bunches of arugula a good whirr in the food processor with a bit of basil, olive oil and pine nuts. Jeff expertly chopped an assortment of fresh herbs that give the lasagna such a bright, fragrant flavor and Daniel nursed the sausage and sauce. Together we scooped and slathered all the ingredients on top of no-cook noodles and just about two hours later, we sat down with our sloppy, oozing slices.

It might not be my Mom's perferred way of preparing her lasagna. But when making it myself, this will have to do.


Arugula Pesto and Sausage Lasagna
Prep time: 1 hour
Cooking time: 50 minutes, plus standing

½ lb each, sweet Italian and hot Italian sausage, casing removed, crumbled
1 medium onion, chopped
6 cloves garlic, divided
2 cans (28 oz. each) Italian-style crushed plum tomatoes
1 cup dry red wine
¾ cup chopped fresh Italian parsley, divided
¼ tsp crushed red pepper
2 tsp salt, divided
1 tsp black pepper, divided
1 ½ cups grated Romano cheese, divided
½ cup pine nuts
4 cups arugula leaves
2 cups fresh basil leaves
¼ cup olive oil
2 T lemon juice
1 container (15 oz.) whole milk or part-skim ricotta cheese
2 eggs
1 lb lasagna noodles (18), cooked, drained (we used no-cook noodles which worked just fine)
1 lb whole milk or part skim mozzarella cheese, shredded

Brown sausage in large skillet on medium-high heat; drain. Add onion and 3 of the garlic gloves, minced; cook 1 minute. Stir in tomatoes, wine, ¼ cup of the parsley, red pepper, 1 teaspoon of the salt and ½ teaspoon of the black pepper. Simmer on medium heat 15 minutes. Stir in ½ cup of the romano cheese.

Place remaining 3 cloves garlic and pine nuts in food processor container fitted with steel blade; cover. Process until finely chopped. Add arugula and basil; process until smooth. Slowly add in oil in thin stream until blended. Add lemon juice and ¾ cup of the romano cheese. Set aside.

Mix ricotta cheese, eggs, remaining ½ cup parsley, 1 teaspoon salt and ½ teaspoon pepper. Stir in arugula mixture; mix well.

Spread ¾ cup of the tomato sauce on bottom of 2 greased 13x9-inch baking dishes. Top each with 3 lasagna noodles, 2/3 cup of the ricotta mixture, 1 cup of the tomato sauce and 2/3 cup of mozzarella cheese. Repeat layers 2 times. Top with remaining romano cheese.

Bake at 350 degrees for 50 minutes. Let stand 15 minutes before serving. Makes 2 13x9-inch lasagnas with 8 to 10 servings each.