March 31: My Gran's Birthday

Today would have been my grandmother's 97th birthday.

My parents got divorced when I was five years old. My mother had a time-consuming and demanding career that she loved and was great at, and when she wasn't with me, I was with my grandparents.

Here is a post that I wrote about my grandmother last fall on my other blog. It is one of my favorite posts that I've written. I am not putting up a recipe tonight. Instead, call your grandmother, tell her that you love her, and if she'll eat it, consider cooking her a plate of bacon.

Happy birthday, Gran. We love you, and we miss you.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Sweet and Salty

Several days ago, I ran out of coarse kosher salt. It's one of those
kitchen staples that I usually have lots of, but like lots ot things, it just
sort of got away from me this summer. Dan picked it up last night at the grocery
store before he picked me up from at the Metro. Have I mentioned how much I love
the Metro? I do. Public transit is so different here than it is in a lot of
cities whose transit systems have deservedly awful reputations. It's clean,
convenient, runs on time, and doesn't tolerate a lot of the nonsense that takes
place in New York. It saves me a grand total of about forty minutes a day of
driving, and I can knit on the commute.

Wow. That paragraph was so utterly stream-of-consciousness, my middle name
should be "non sequiter."

Salt. I was talking about salt. So Dan picked up a box of kosher salt at
the grocery store.

My whole life, my grandmother kept a crock of kosher salt on her kitchen counter next to her stove. Let me just say that this was a woman who loved salt. When she was dying of metastatic cervical cancer at 94, having radiation and chemotherapy, my mother could always convince her to eat -- as long as the meal consisted of Ensure and bacon. One of her favorite things was radishes, sliced in half and dipped in -- yes, you guessed it -- that exact same crock of kosher salt. It is a wonder that high blood pressure didn't get her, frankly.

The crock is a small brown ceramic one, round and maybe five inches high. It came from the grocery store, filled with Win Schuler bar cheez -- I'm not sure if we have that here, but if you're from Michigan, or maybe northern Ohio, you're probably familiar with Win Schuler. Great stuff. A normal person would have thrown it away when it was empty. Not Gran, though.My mother, the youngest of four children, was born in 1940. My grandparents married in 1930 and raised their children during the Depression and the second World War. My grandmother once said that she had a fight with her husband about how much sugar he put in his coffee. "Sugar was rationed," she explained. "He would finish his coffee and there'd still be sugar in the bottom of the cup. It made me so mad!"

She had an entire basement filled with food, mostly canned vegetables, mostly having expired somewhere around 1989. Her freezers--that's plural--were filled to bursting with things so frostbitten that they were unidentifiable, even when they were thawed. My cousins and I referred to her basement as The Food Museum. She saved margerine containers, plastic bags, Cool Whip tubs, and--well, basically everything that ever came in the door. My mother once threw away a pile of church lady meeting minutes from 1951. My grandmother barely spoke to her for a week.

When she was speaking, she had a way with words, my Gran. Once, when we were driving somewhere, out of nowhere, she said, "When I was your age, I was married and had three kids."

I had just broken up with my boyfriend of three years. "I know, Gran," I said.

"I'm sure you'd meet someone right away if you weren't so heavy," she told me in a very encouraging tone of voice.

And then I killed her.

Just kidding. But still, this was not exactly music to my ears. I was as thin as I'd been since high school, and substantially less satisfied with my life at that point that I had been in a long time. She sure cut to the chase, my Gran.

I went on my first date with Dan the night before Gran's birthday. That night, I went to her apartment there in her retirement community, planning to take her out for dinner. Instead, she'd cooked--chicken and homemade noodles, my favorite. I offered to take her to Steak 'n' Shake for a malt after dinner, her favorite treat.

"Sure," she said. "Let's go to the cemetary first."

"I...okay," I said.So for her birthday, I drove her to the cemetary where three of her four children, husband, and two grandchildren are buried, then to Steak 'n' Shake for chocolate malts.

After we watched "Friends" on television--her favorite TV show--I wished her happy birthday, kissed her good night, and left. On the way out, I called Dan on my cell phone."How's your Grandma?" he asked.

"That was the weirdest birthday party I've ever been to," I told him.

Gran was very sick when Dan and I got married, but we got married in her church, which made her very happy. Several days later, she told my mother she didn't think she could live by herself anymore, even in her assisted living community, and should probably move in with them.

We got married in July. I got pregnant in October. Coming back from the doctor's appointment where the doctor confirmed that I was pregnant, my mother called. It was getting close to the end. Gran didn't get out of bed anymore. She wouldn't eat--not even bacon.I didn't tell her I was pregnant. I really didn't want her emotions about her mother dying to be wrapped up in her emotions about me being pregnant. Besides, it was early. It made sense to wait. I'm not always sure I did the right thing, but based on what my mother said, Gran wouldn't have realized that I was pregnant at all.

My Gran died the first week in November of 2004. She was survived by her daughter, six grandchildren, eight great-grandchildren, and one great-great-grandchild, and Max, four weeks gestation. Her will stated that my mother should receive one quarter of her estate, and the rest should be split among her grandchildren.

This inheratance was sizable, and it allowed me to pay off our car and stay home for a year with Max. That is a really big deal.

My gran had a lot of junk--sixty years worth of margerine tubs, for example. She also had things that reminded me and all of my cousins of our childhood, spent on the southeast corner of Wall Lake in Delton, Michigan, learning to waterski and fish for three-inch long bluegill (my theory is that we caught the same ten fish all summer long every year) and torment each other all summer. I even lived there for a year when I was 22, rent free. Gran was the best roommate I ever had: she didn't use my tampons, borrow my clothes or CD's, or lose my phone messages--probably because she was too hard-of-hearing to hear the phone ringing most of the time.

During a storm that summer, the enormous oak tree on the hill in front of the house fell. It knocked down the railing on the deck and flattened a pink plastic flamingo my Uncle Lonnie had once given my mother as a joke, as well as a couple of very old, extremely uncomfortable metal lawn chairs, and just barely missing the northeast corner of the house. Gran said that when she married my grandfather in 1930 and laid eyes on that tree for the first time, she'd said, "That tree won't make it through the winter." The tree made it through the next sixty-nine winters.

My mother made sure that we would all get the things that were most precious to us, that reminded us of Gran and our childhood. Two of my cousins bought the property that her home stood on--one cousin lives next door, in the house that my aunt and uncle built, next door to my grandparents, a crazy upside down house with a huge kitchen on the second floor and a walkout basement of a first floor.

Every time I fill the salt crock on my kitchen counter, I think of my Gran. It's her salt crock, I asked my mother for it, and it wouldn't have been worth a dime to most people. I think she was surprised that I wanted it. But I think of her every time I look at it, and hope that someday, an old cheese crock from the grocery store will be as precious to someone who catalogues my idiosyncrasies for the benefit of the internet, just to show how much they loved me.

March 30: Home Fries

Just in case anyone is interested, it's March 30th. The only significance to this date is that, five years ago, my husband and I started a conversation in the parking lot after work, decided we were enjoying the conversation so much that we wanted to continue it, went back to his apartment, and talked until 2:30 in the morning, at which point he made a somewhat clumsy overture which I pretended not to find hilariously funny and kissed me for the first time, my last first kiss (I hope.)

I just asked Dan what the first meal I ever cooked for him was. What he said to me was, "If I had known there were going to be pop quizzes later, I would have written some of this crap down." For the record, it was a roasted chicken in his Ron Popeil Showtime Rotisserie oven. I had never met anyone who had one of those; I'd been dying to try it out. It really was as simple as they make it look in the infomercial. That chicken was delicious, and I think it clinched it for Dan, that I really was the ideal woman.

I have cooked very few meals that my husband hasn't loved. To be fair, I'm married to a man who loves food, almost all of it, but before me, he always dated (and married) women who couldn't cook and didn't care about food. In contrast, he and I plan days around certain meals, take road trips in order to eat at specific restaurants, and have a monthly food budget nearly equal to our monthly rent.

My husband makes perfect Kraft Macaroni and Cheese; he always lets the butter and milk and cheese bubble in the pot for a few minutes before stirring the pasta back in. He loves meatball hoagies. Green bell peppers give him indigestion. He likes his hot dogs simmered in water and then pan-fried for a few minutes in butter with a little sprinkling of pepper, with mustard and onions and cole slaw. He eats salad with whole-wheat pasta and sliced chicken breast and vinaigrette dressing every day for lunch. And he once played the unspeakably dirty joke of telling me he was eating a peanut butter sandwich, and then when I took a bite, it turned out that he was actually eating a peanut butter and mustard sandwich. I still have not totally forgiven him.

One of the things that I really appreciate about Dan is that on weekend mornings, he gets up with Max and makes a very elaborate breakfast. One of the best things he makes is home fries.

Here is Dan's recipe for home fries. You can make as few or as many of these as you want, just by varying the amount of the ingredients and the cooking time. This is enough for about 4 people, if you're making them as part of a full breakfast. Dan made them this morning for me along with scrambled eggs and bacon.

Thanks, babe. Here's to five more years, and another fifty after that.

Home Fries

2 russet, all-purpose, or Yukon gold potatoes, peeled and cut into 3/4-inch dice
1 small white onion, finely diced
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 tablespoon butter
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoons black pepper

Put potatoes in a microwave-safe bowl and toss with garlic powder. Cover bowl with plastic wrap and poke a couple of small holes in the plastic wrap. Microwave, on high, for 8 minutes.

Heat oil and butter in a large (12-inch) non-stick skillet over medium-high heat. When butter stops foaming, cook potatoes in skillet over medium-high heat, turning occasionally, until golden-brown and crispy, 10-15 minutes. Mix in diced onion, continue to cook another 6-8 minutes. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Serve hot.

March 29: Italian Roast Beef

I've said before that I'm not that impressed by Cook's Country, the aw-shucks home-cookin' country-bumpkin cousin of Cook's Illustrated. I'm still not. My mother gave me a subscription a couple years ago, and the only recipe I made was the one for firecracker chicken. That, I have to admit, was delicious and simple to make, and would have changed my mind about the cookbook if it weren't for all the reader-generated content, the folksy stories submitted about newlyweds making cookies with old motor oil and seeking updated versions of their great-grandmother's kutchen.

So when this recipe popped into my inb0x this weekend, I was skeptical, but Italian roast beef happens to be something I really love, when it's done right. Spicy marinated roast beef, sliced thin and piled on crusty bread, a little herby vinegar and oil dressing, thinly sliced provolone. Skeptical, but I've never had really good Italian beef outside of Chicago. I am looking forward to trying this recipe, as soon as I get a chance to get to Eastern Market or somewhere similar, where I can find a really good top sirloin roast, as suggested. It's meaty and tender and lean.

Italian Roast Beef

4 teaspoons garlic powder
4 teaspoons dried basil
4 teaspoons dried oregano
1 tablespoon pepper
1 4-pound top sirloin roast , fat trimmed to 1/4 inch thick
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 onion , chopped fine
3 garlic cloves , minced
1 tablespoon flour
2 cups low sodium beef broth
2 cups low sodium chicken broth
1 1/2 cups water
1 teaspoon crushed red pepper
2 teaspoons salt

1. Adjust oven rack to lower-middle position and heat oven to 300 degrees. Combine garlic powder, basil, oregano, and pepper in small bowl.

2. Pat roast dry with paper towels. Heat 1 tablespoon oil in large skillet over medium-high heat until just smoking. Brown roast all over, about 10 minutes, then transfer to V-rack set inside roasting pan.

3. Add onion to fat in skillet and cook over medium heat until softened, about 5 minutes. Stir in garlic, flour, and 1 teaspoon spice mixture until fragrant, about 1 minute. Stir in broths and water, using wooden spoon to scrape up browned bits. Bring to boil, then pour into roasting pan.

4. Stir remaining oil, pepper flakes, and salt into remaining spice mixture. Rub mixture all over meat and roast until meat registers 125 degrees (for medium-rare), 75 to 90 minutes. Transfer roast to cutting board, tent with foil, and let rest 20 minutes.

5. Pour jus through fine-mesh strainer and keep warm. Slice roast crosswise against grain into ¼-inch-thick slices. Serve with jus.

March 28: Blueberry Buckle

My son was born on June 21, 2005. On June 18th, 2005, my parents arrived in Washington D.C. They hadn't seen me since Christmas. I am very tall--5'11"--and a little wide, and when I was nine months pregnant, I looked maybe six months pregnant, with a baby spread out all over the front of me. The last time they saw me was on my birthday, when I was 3 months pregnant, and didn't look pregnant at all.

It must have been fairly shocking for them to see me looking like a landmass, hot, sweaty even in the air conditioning, unbearably bloated, having contractions--but not knowing that the almost constant discomfort that I was having were contractions--and grouchy beyond all compare. My mother responded to all of this by treating me like a spoiled beauty pagent queen and indulging my every whim. She even went with me to a local barbecue joint, where a skeevy creep leaned up against me from shoulders to ankles, stuck his face in my ear, and said in this yucky, breathy whisper, "So what's good here?"

My mother looked horrified, and I was absolutely enraged beyond compare. "I'm ordering pulled pork with a large side of personal space," is what I told him, loudly. "Don't touch me again or I'll defend myself." I meant it too. I was 9 months pregnant and Skeev was lucky I wasn't carrying a weapon of some kind. He was stunned that I would stand up for myself, clearly, and very defensive about it, claiming to have meant no harm by it. I didn't give one tiny rat's ass, though; don't be creepy and rub up against me when it's 96 degrees outside and I'm as pregnant as I can possibly be or I'll stab you in the skull with a screwdriver. How's that for the moral of a story?

After I made a huge scene in a crowded take-out restaurant, my mother was even more inclined to indulge me. She did so by baking me a blueberry buckle, a tender yellow cake full of fresh blueberries and topped with a crumbly, buttery brown sugar topping. It's sort of half dessert, half coffee cake, rich and not-painfully-sweet but gorgeously indulgent feeling. She found it in Cook's Illustrated, and I've baked it for every friend whose had a baby since then. It's one of my favorite things.

Don't use frozen blueberries. They're too mushy and gloppy, and they'll leave you with a homogenous, creepy blue-green cake. Hold out until mid-June, at least, and make it then, when blueberries are sweet and fresh, and preferrably local. Yum.


Streusel
1/2 cup unbleached all purpose flour
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
Pinch table salt
4 tablespoons unsalted butter (1/2 stick), cut into 8 pieces, softened but still cool

Cake
1 1/2 cups unbleached all purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
10 tablespoons unsalted butter (1 1/4 stick), softened but still cool
2/3 cup granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon table salt
1/2 teaspoon grated lemon zest
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 large eggs, room temperature
4 cups fresh blueberries(about 20 ounces), picked over

1. For the streusel: In standing mixer fitted with flat beater, combine flour, sugars, cinnamon, and salt on low speed until well combined and no large brown sugar lumps remain, about 45 seconds. Add butter and mix on low until mixture resembles wet sand and no large butter pieces remain, about 2 1/2 minutes. Transfer streusel to small bowl and set aside.

2. For the cake: Adjust oven rack to lower-middle position; heat oven to 350 degrees. Spray 9-inch round cake pan with 2-inch sides with nonstick cooking spray, line bottom with parchment or waxed paper round, and spray round; dust pan with flour and knock out excess.

3. Whisk flour and baking powder in small bowl to combine; set aside. In standing mixer fitted with flat beater, cream butter, sugar, salt, and lemon zest at medium-high speed until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes; using rubber spatula, scrape down bowl. Beat in vanilla until combined, about 30 seconds. With mixer running at medium speed, add eggs one at a time; beat until partially incorporated, then scrape down bowl and continue to beat until fully incorporated (mixture will appear broken). With mixer running on low speed, gradually add flour mixture; beat until flour is almost fully incorporated, about 20 seconds. Disengage bowl from mixer; stir batter with rubber spatula, scraping bottom and sides of bowl, until no flour pockets remain and batter is homogenous; batter will be very heavy and thick. Using rubber spatula, gently fold in blueberries until evenly distributed.

4. Transfer batter to prepared pan; with rubber spatula, using a pushing motion, spread batter evenly to pan edges and smooth surface. Squeeze handful of streusel in hand to form large cohesive clump; break up clump with fingers and sprinkle streusel evenly over batter. Repeat with remaining streusel. Bake until deep golden brown and toothpick or wooden skewer inserted into center of cake comes out clean, about 55 minutes. Cool on wire rack 15 to 20 minutes (cake will fall slightly as it cools).

5. Run paring knife around sides of cake to loosen. Place upside-down plate (do not use plate or platter on which you plan to serve the cake) on top of cake pan; invert cake to remove from pan, lift off cake pan, then peel off and discard parchment. Re-invert cake onto serving platter. Cool until just warm or to room temperature, at least 1 hour. Cut into wedges and serve.

March 27: Sauteed Chicken Breasts With Creamy Chive Sauce

When I was little, my grandmother had a million wild chive plants growing in her yard. I can still remember the smell of the backyard, the herbal, oniony sweetness that hung over the backyard from April until August. My grandmother would send me outside to get her a handful of chives to chop into salads, to stir into sour cream for a baked potato. I could smell the chives on my hands for hours afterwards.

Chives are coming into season right now, along with asparagus, artichokes, green garlic, peas, and other spring vegetables. Spring vegetables are great: they're light, they're fresh, they're springtime on a plate.

I've said before that I love chicken breasts for their blank-slate quality. If I were going to make it into a musical metaphor, chicken breasts are the cello behind the piccolo of a spring veggie. That's why I love the look of this recipe: the richness of a delicate, creamy sauce against the sweet herbal note of chives. I think that I would serve this with a spinach and garlic orzo with a little lemon and a little parmesan, and a crispy green salad, and a loaf of crispy bread to sop up the sauce.

Sauteed Chicken Breasts With Creamy Chive Sauce


4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (about 1 pound), trimmed of fat
1 teaspoon kosher salt, divided
1/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour, divided
3 teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided
2 large shallots, finely chopped
1/2 cup dry white wine
1 14-ounce can reduced-sodium chicken broth
1/3 cup reduced-fat sour cream
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1/2 cup chopped chives (about 1 bunch)

Place chicken between sheets of plastic wrap and pound with a meat mallet or heavy skillet until flattened to an even thickness, about 1/2 inch. Season both sides of the chicken with 1/2 teaspoon salt. Place 1/4 cup flour in a shallow glass baking dish and dredge the chicken in it. Discard the excess flour.

Heat 2 teaspoons oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add the chicken and cook until golden brown, 1 to 2 minutes per side. Transfer to a plate, cover and keep warm.
Heat the remaining 1 teaspoon oil in the pan over medium-high heat. Add shallots and cook, stirring constantly and scraping up any browned bits, until golden brown, 1 to 2 minutes. Sprinkle with the remaining 1 tablespoon flour; stir to coat. Add wine, broth and the remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt; bring to a boil, stirring often.

Return the chicken and any accumulated juices to the pan, reduce heat to a simmer, and cook until heated through and no longer pink in the center, about 6 minutes. Stir in sour cream and mustard until smooth; turn the chicken to coat with the sauce. Stir in chives and serve immediately.

March 26: Spinach & Parmesan Stuffed Mushrooms

I love stuffed mushrooms. They are gorgeous and delicious as an appetizer, not to mention popular. Buy some portabellos, stuff and bake them, and you've got a healthy and irresistable dinner. Why do I not do that more often? I am making a mental note to myself as I write this.

There are dozens of delicious stuffings for mushrooms. I always start with fresh breadcrumbs and an aromatic like onion or garlic. Then there are a million different ways to go. I like crabmeat--the cheap stuff, not the jumbo lump; I've even used canned--cream cheese, scallions, and parmesan. I like diced proscuitto, goat cheese, and basil. I like spicy Italian sausage, diced tomatoes, Italian seasoning, and mozzerella. I like spinach and feta and fresh oregano. I like bleu cheese and sour cream. Pretty much anything goes well in a mushroom. It's the great thing about a mushroom.

This is Fine Cooking's stuffed mushroom recipe. Spinach and parmesan are a natural pair. Don't skip the step of roasting the mushroom caps; if you do, the filling will be drippy and watery and not at all the toasty, savory treat that this can be.

Spinach & Parmesan Stuffed Mushrooms

1 pound medium white mushrooms, wiped clean
8 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
3 slices firm white bread
4 scallions, thinly sliced
1/4 cup dry sherry
6 ounces fresh baby spinach, roughly chopped
1/4 cup heavy cream
1/3 cup heavy cream
1/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon freshly grated parmesan cheese
1/2 lemon

Set an oven rack 6 inches from the top element and heat the broiler to high. Completely remove the mushroom stems; thinly slice the stems. Set the mushroom caps stem side up on a rimmed baking sheet, drizzle with 1 1/2 tablespoons of the oil, and sprinkle with 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt and a few grinds of pepper. Broil until the mushrooms are brown and completely tender, 6 to 7 minutes.

Pulse the bread in a food processor until it forms crumbs. In a large, heavy saute pan, heat 2 tablespoons of the oil over medium-high heat. Add the breadcrumbs and 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt and cook, stirring constantly, until the breadcrumbs crisp and brown, 4 to 5 minutes. Transfer to a plate and wipe pan clean. Return the pan to high heat, add the remaining 1 1/2 tablespoon oil and the scallions, and saute until browned and softened, about 2 minutes. Add the mushroom stems and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Cook, stirring, until the stems soften and brown, about 3 minutes. Add the sherry and and cook until almost evaporated, 30 to 60 seconds. Add the spinach and stir until it wilts, about 1 minute. Add the cream and 1/3 cup of the parmesan, reduce the heat to medium, and cook until the cream reduces slightly, about 2 minutes. Taste for salt and pepper. Let cool.

Discard any liquid that may have accumulated in the mushroom caps. Mound the spinach mixture into the caps, top with the breadcrumbs, pressing them lightly into the filling. Top with the remaining tablespoon of parmesan.

Heat the broiler to high. Broil the caps until the breadcrumbs brown a little more and the mushrooms heat through, 1 to 3 minutes. Squeeze the lemon over the caps. Serve immediately.

March 25: Pan-Roasted Asparagus with Parmesan and Toasted Garlic

It is not exactly an exaggeration for me to say that garlic is one of my favorite things in the world. Nothing says comfort food to be like a big bowl of linguine tossed with a mixture of olive oil, crushed red pepper flakes, about eleven cloves of minced sauteed garlic, and topped with a handful of toasted panko bread crumbs tossed with Italian seasoning. Then I smell like garlic for two days and my husband wants to know if I'm trying to ward off a Romanian vampire, or just him. What I'm not telling him is, the pasta's totally worth it.

What I don't love: asparagus. It's just one of those acquired tastes that I never managed to acquire. Maybe it was that my mother liked asparagus boiled to a grey slimy mass. Or, maybe it's just that asparagus tastes like old gym socks to me.

However, I acknowledge its popularity. I appreciate that I'm in the minority when it comes to this spring vegetable. I'll even stink up my house making it for my husband who loves it. But from now on, I'm making it this way, to distract me from the fact that it's, you know, asparagus. I will probably even take a bite of it. Unfortunately the new prescription drug is continuing to make everything with more than two ingredients in it taste like a cocktail of gefilte fish and butterscotch pudding, so I won't like it or anything. But hey, I'm a sport.

Use big fat asparagus, or it'll overcook. If all you can get are the sweet little petite things, then reduce the cooking time by 3 or 4 minutes.

Pan-Roasted Asparagus with Parmesan and Toasted Garlic
2 tablespoons olive oil
3 medium cloves garlic, sliced thin
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
2 pounds thick asparagus spears, ends trimmed
Kosher salt and ground black pepper
2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese

1. Heat the olive oil and sliced garlic in 12-inch skillet over medium heat; cook, stirring occasionally, until garlic is crisp and golden but not dark brown, about 5 minutes. Using slotted spoon, transfer garlic to paper towel-lined plate.

2. Add the butter to the oil in the skillet. When butter has melted, add half of asparagus to skillet with tips pointed in one direction; add remaining spears with tips pointed in one direction. Using tongs, distribute spears in even layer (spears will not quite fit into single layer); cover and cook until asparagus is bright green and still crisp,about 5 minutes.

3. Uncover and increase heat to high; season asparagus with salt and pepper. Cook until spears are tender and well browned along one side, 5 to 7 minutes, using tongs to occasionally move spears from center of pan to edge of pan to ensure all are browned. Transfer asparagus to serving dish, sprinkle with grated Parmesan and toasted garlic, adjust seasonings with salt and pepper. Serve immediately.

March 24: Spinach & Basil Salad with Tomatoes, Candied Walnuts, & Warm Bacon Dressing

I talked to my mother on the phone last night, and she said that southwestern Michigan got ten inches of snow over the weekend. Here the trees are budding, it hits 50 by mid-morning most days, and winter is giving up the fight, and in Michigan, it's sledding weather.

I miss winter, if you want to know the truth. I'm a cold-weather girl, I like the sound of snow under my boots, I like scarves and mittens and how quiet everything is with a few inches of snow on the ground. It drives me crazy that there's never enough snow here to make it worth even dragging out my down jacket.

This is a fantastic winter salad. Even in the dead of winter, when there's not a decent tomato to be found, grape or cherry tomatoes are entirely edible. The basil, you may have to search for a little, if there's not a Trader Joe's or a Whole Foods near you, but it's doable. Really, nothing else in here is a particularly exotic ingredient--most decently stocked grocery stores have herbes de Provence now.

Take the time to make the candied walnuts. In fact, make extra. They're delicious tossed with cooked carrots with some crumbled bacon, as a topping for ice cream or fruit crisps, or just eaten out of hand.

Spinach & Basil Salad with Tomatoes, Candied Walnuts, & Warm Bacon Dressing

1/2 pound baby spinach leaves, washed and dried
1 cup lightly packed fresh basil leaves, washed and dried
6 slices bacon
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1/3 cup plus 2 teaspoons olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 pint grape tomatoes
1 1/2 teaspoons dried herbes de Provence
1.2 teaspoon dehydrated minced or granulated garlic
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
Candied Walnuts (recipe follows)

In a large salad bowl, toss the spinach and basil together.

Cut each slice of bacon into thirds. Cook in a skillet over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until crisp, drain on paper towels.. Reserve 1 tablespoon of the bacon fat. Crumble the bacon into pieces

In a medium bowl, whisk the vinegar with the mustard. Slowly whisk in 1/3 cup of of the olive oil, then whisk in the 1 tablespoon bacon fat. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Set aside in a warm place.

Position an oven rack as close as possible to the broiler element. Put a heavy-duty rimmed baking sheet on the rack and heat the broiler to high. Toss the tomatoes with the remaining 2 teaspoons of olive oil, the herbes de Provence, and kosher salt. Pour the tomatoes onto the hot pan and broil, stirring occasionally, until the skins are cracked and blistered, and the flesh is warmed through, 4-5 minutes. Transfer the tomatoes with a slotted spoon to the bowl with the salad dressing. Stir to coat and mix the seasonings into the dressing.

Just before serving, transfer the tomatoes from the dressing to another bowl with a slotted spoon. Whisk the dressing to recombine. Add half the bacon to the greens. Drizzle with dressing and toss lightly to coat. Don't overdress.

Garnish with the tomatoes, the remaining bacon, and some of the candied walnuts (you'll have leftovers.) Serve immediately.

Candied Walnuts

1/3 cup sugar
2 1/2 tablespoons brown sugar
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
Pinch cayenne
1 large egg white, at room temperature
1 tablespoon water
1/2 pound walnut halves

Heat the oven to 300 degrees. In a small bowl, mix together sugars, salt, cinnamon and cayenne. In a large bowl, whisk the egg white until frothy; whisk in the water until combined. Add the walnuts and stir to coat. Sprinkle on the sugar mixture and stir to evenly distribute.

Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment or a Silpat. Spread the nuts in a single layer on the sheet. Bake for 15 minutes, stir, and continue baking until the smell toasted and the sugar coating has caramelized, about another 15 minutes.

Let nuts cool on the pan, separating them as they cool. When completely cool, transfer to an airtight container. They'll keep for two weeks.

March 23: Cheese Enchiladas With Rajas

The brisket was delicious and tender and flavorful, the potatoes were...oh, just so good. I steamed some broccoli to go with, and I put half of that aside to saute with garlic and olive oil and crushed red pepper flakes and toasted pine nuts and some hot pasta tomorrow. It's one of my favorite things to do with leftover broccoli.

At the risk of maybe telling you too much, I have to admit that I am on a new medication in my apparently neverending quest to have a second baby and it is wreaking total havoc on both my digestive system and the number and type of calories and insulin both that I need to consume to keep my blood sugar in line. For dinner tonight, I am going to have a tall cup of chicken broth with a few egg noodles in it in an effort to calm my churning and miserable stomach, but what I'm craving is a red-chili-sauced cheese and onion enchilada with a few strips of roasted poblano peppers, a puddle of beans, and a big pile of chopped romaine lettuce with thinly sliced radishes and a crumble of queso fresco.

So that's the recipe you'll get tonight. I make fabulous cheese enchiladas, if I may say so, and they're really one of my favorite meals. This is a great thing to serve to some non-meat-eating friends with lots of chips and a spicy-smoky salsa to start, cold beer or fresh limeade to drink, and some fruity sorbet and a couple of ginger cookies for dessert. I am hoping that these lousy side effects will get up off my ass sometime soon so I can go back to eating like a person who likes food again.

Cheese Enchiladas With Rajas

8 corn tortillas
2 1/2 cups enchilada sauce, canned or homemade
8 ounce brick-style cream cheese, softened
8 ounces shredded sharp cheddar cheese
1 medium white onion, half chopped fine and half very thinly sliced
salt and pepper
2 poblano peppers

Garnishes: your choice of thinly sliced radishes, hot sauce, additional shredded cheese, sliced hot peppers, pickled or fresh, sliced black olives, additional slivered onions, diced avacado, diced tomato, chopped cilantro, sour cream.

Under a pre-heated broiler, roast poblano peppers until all sides are blistered and blackened. Put peppers in a bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and set aside for at least ten minutes.

Preheat oven to 400. Mix together diced onion, cream cheese, cheddar, and salt and pepper to taste.

Peel roasted peppers (the skins should slide right off), seed, and slice into thin strips.

Wrap tortillas in plastic wrap and microwave on high for 1 minute. Spread about 2/3 cup of enchilada sauce in the bottom of an oven safe rectangular baking dish. Dip tortillas, one at a time, in enchilada sauce, spread 1/8 of the cheese-onion filling down the middle of the tortilla, top with 2-3 peppers, and roll. Place seam-down in the baking dish.

Bake 8-10 minutes, until heated through. Serve with garnishes of choice.

March 22: Scalloped Potatoes with Chipotle and Smoked Cheddar

Tomorrow's Easter. I have a six-pound beef brisket in the slow-cooker right now, with a whole bunch of pureed onion and garlic and Worcestershire and beef broth. This brisket really spoke to me in Costco today. It's going to be spicy and southern-style, not good-Jewish-Mama style. I'm kind of psyched about it.

To go with it, I'm going to make these scalloped potatoes from my bridal shower. Traditional, but with a twist. I can't wait.

Scalloped Potatoes with Chipotle and Smoked Cheddar

2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 medium onion, minced (about 1 cup)
2 medium garlic cloves, minced or pressed through garlic press (about 2 teaspoons)
1 large chipotle in adobo, minced (about 1½ tablespoons)
1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme leaves
1 1/4 teaspoons salt
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
2 1//2 pounds (about 5 medium) russet potatoes, peeled and sliced 1/8 inch thick
1 cup canned low-sodium chicken broth
1 cup heavy cream2 bay leaves
4 ounces smoked cheddar cheese, shredded (1 cup)

1. Adjust oven rack to middle position; heat oven to 425 degrees.

2. Melt butter in large Dutch oven over medium-high heat until foaming subsides. Add onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft and lightly browned, about 4 minutes. Add garlic, chipotle, thyme, salt, and pepper; cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add potatoes, chicken broth, cream, and bay leaves and bring to simmer. Cover, reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer until potatoes are almost tender (paring knife can be slipped into and out of potato slice with some resistance), about 10 minutes. Discard bay leaves.

3. Transfer mixture to 8-inch-square baking dish (or other 1½-quart gratin dish); sprinkle evenly with cheese. Bake until cream is bubbling around edges and top is golden brown, about 15 minutes. Cool 10 minutes before serving.