It’s summertime, which of course means it’s time to whip up some refreshing drafts. Here’s how I approach my cocktailage:
1. Use ingredients that that are, themselves, inherently restorative under wilting conditions.*
2. Keep it simple. Try to keep your concoctions to five ingredients or less.
3. Locate your fine self a cabana/pool/palm-draped hammock.** Relax. Imbibe. Read more
Some of you may have noticed a bit of a lapse in recipe posting as of late. This is due to the fact that I am about to graduate from my Master’s program (exciting), and my attentions have been thusly diverted with things like terrifying thesis-readings, employment searches and retrieving my cap and gown (brown velvet trim, really?).
While I don’t have time to blather on as I usually do before a recipe, I wanted to post something regardless. Here are the essentials: Read more
Holy batman, this is delicious ice cream. I mean, seriously, criminally tasty. I am not trying to toot my own horn here, but I really need you to know—this one’s a keeper.
I am the first to admit that my previous ice cream attempts may have left something to be desired. I know that the heavy pounding of cinnamon, star anise and cardamom I gave my chocolate and spice was not, perhaps, the best. It’s all right. And let’s not dwell on my celery endeavor, which while it fulfilled Food52’s contest requirements, has also made it so I cannot stand the taste or smell of celery.
This though, this is a whole different situation. Read more
Here is a secret, a weird, weird secret: even as a kid, I never liked peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It’s true. Are you shocked? Don’t get me wrong, I get it: salty and sweet, crunchy and smooth. It all makes sense. But for some reason, I’ve always preferred my peanut butter and jelly separate.
Even despite my anti-penchant for this combination, the following two recipes have been in the works for a while, for completely ingredient driven reasons. Number one: Marcona almonds. Oh, tiny treasures from Spain! Marcona almonds are smaller, softer and creamier than the California variety, and like all good Spanish things, they usually come wrapped in the warm embrace of sea salt and olive oil.
Next, I had some wild blueberry preserves to consider. At Christmas, when the Frenchman and I were in the Pyrenees, I insisted on bringing back at least two jars. (Don’t worry; I know how obnoxious that sounds.) Read more
I’m sure this has happened to you: staring into the depths of your fridge one afternoon, you start to notice leftover tidbits hiding in every corner. All manner of fruit, vegetable, cheese and nut in minute quantities, long overlooked, and frankly, a little sad. When this happens, I know it’s time to throw everything—everything but the kitchen sink—into a bowl, and call it lunch.
At the moment this means a half bag of baby potatoes starting to grow eyelets, and a few handfuls of arugula beginning to wither in the crisper. It means the few remaining morsels of cheese I bought for another purpose, and then abandoned in the fridge. It is the tablespoon or so of pine nuts I toasted too many of, for a soup I also made too much of. But alas, you cannot add soup to a salad…. Read more
For my birthday this year, Paul took me to Craft and we did it up: oysters, suckling pig and a big red wine. To end the meal, we ordered a slew of ice creams engineered by Craft’s pastry chef/genius, Jenny McCoy. Her ice cream is like nothing I’ve tried before (and trust me, I have sampled my fair share of ice cream).
She makes a kiwi ice cream that not only tastes exactly of kiwi, but manages to capture the texture and bite of a kiwi too. It’s insane. When I decided to finally dust off the ice cream maker my sisters gifted me a few Christmases ago, I scoured the interwebs for some of her recipes. I found two, and this is what I learned: balanced proportions of cream + sugar + whole milk + egg yolks = deliciousness.
I also consulted David Lebovitz’s The Perfect Scoop, and then I was off to the races. Although my first few attempts were flops (I was determined to use bar chocolate at first.…mistake), I eventually reached something I loved. By the last batch, I achieved my aim: airy, creamy, must-consume-immediately ice cream. Read more
For Christmas this year, Paul’s grandparents gave me a book called La Cuisine Authentique de nos Grand-mères (translation: The Authentic Cooking of our Grandmothers). It is easily one of the best gifts I’ve ever received. I am currently working my way through all 400 butcher-paper pages, albeit slowly; there is only so much français a girl can read at a time, even when it pertains to la cuisine.
The book is full of the kind of French home cooking that made me fall in love with spending time in the kitchen in the first place. Best-quality ingredients are emphasized, and the recipes encourage slowing down for a minute. You simply cannot flambée les bananes au rhum with your mind on other things. (Well, I suppose you could, but in that I case I suggest you keep a fire extinguisher on hand.) Read more
Key lime pie is my very favorite dessert, of all time, in the world. That is–when it is done properly. Because, to sound like a snob, it is almost never done properly. The next time you are in the supermarket, take a gander to the bakery department. You might find a key lime pie there, but more likely it is only something masquerading as a key lime pie. Have a look at the ingredients. Are there more than five? Take a look at the color. Does it look like an experiment in florescents gone bad?
Real key lime pie, the kind you find in restaurants in southern Florida, only has four ingredients: sweetened condensed milk, key lime juice, key lime zest and egg yolks. It is pale yellow, almost white, and has the consistency of thick custard. Read more