The Daring Lasagne

OK, let me just say here once and for all that I am one daring kitchen ninja. Over and over I takn the daring baker's challenge like a good little blogger, and then I make it at the last minute, inevitably and usually when I am about to throw a party. It makes sense right? I mean, I need people to eat the challenge after I make it, so I invite them over. But I always tend to get in a little over my head.
This month was no exception. Posting date (for which I am late, sorry a million times) was Joey's birthday, and when I discovered that the challenge was for a traditional Northern Italian lasagne, I knew that the stars were aligned. Because the thing is, Joey feels kind of spiritual about lasagne. And he was going to be thirty and it was all going to be perfect.
But you hear the tone of doom in my voice, right? Because then I decided to surprise him with some friends from out of town, and before I know it, it's Friday morning, and I'm making two traditional Northern Italian lasagnes, and two cheesecakes, and four loads of laundry, and lots of table setting, and I'm making up new cocktails and drinking them too just to calm my speeding heart as I run, yes run around the house.
But of all of these things, the lasagne is the thing that I am most cocky about, because although making fresh pasta might be intimidating for some people, I make it a lot, and I am not scared in the least.
I have this fabulous little crank pasta maker that my friend Eilen gave me for my birthday last year, and it's so fun and easy, I make pasta once a week. So why should I be scared?
OK, I'll tell you why.
1. I am throwing a suprise dinner and making lasagne at the last minute. Disastrous already.
2. This lasagne involves a ragu sauce which takes a lot of time, in fact, about as many hours as there are kinds of meat involved.

3. The lasagne uses a bechemel sauce instead of ricotta, and I tend to have a hard time thickening bechemel sauce. This is one irrational reason (among several rational ones) that I want to go to culinary school.
4. Two words: spinach pasta.

Spinach pasta is different than non spinach pasta. The moisture content is not what I'm used to, but somehow, I wrestled it into a ball.

And this brings us to 5:15 last night, a half an hour before Joey is supposed to arrive. My kids are crying for some reason beyond me. My ten-year-old sister, who I have put in charge of the girls while I make this lasagne, is finally shouting "Go on cry! Cry about how bad your life is!" This stops the crying, and my sister is my hero. I am diligently trying to run the little balls of spinach pasta through the machine, and I swear the thing is pooping out these little sticky balls of stuff, and it's all just falling apart. This has never happened to me. And I have made a double batch of spinach noodles and there is mushy spinach dough everywhere. And then I start to panic. My friend Meg arrives, and I'm holding back the tears and I'm thinking maybe I should just order pizza. And she says, screw the pasta maker, use the rolling pin. This works better, and I'm assembling as I go. I've made lasagne with fresh noodles before, and I always skip the drying and cooking of the noodles and I like the result. So I'm assembling, and my bechemel is pretty runny, and the ragu is all milky, and the noodles are all holey and awful looking, and this whole thing is just, well, as Joey would call it, "lasagne fail".
I'm not giving up now though, and I bake the thing, and people are arriving and I'm now really drinking because boy do I need it, and I'm just trying not to think about the horrible disaster in the oven.
Everything else is going well, although the white bean stew burns and I drop one of the cheesecakes on the floor, but it ends up on the right side.
Joey comes, and everyone says surprise and I'm still running around and I take the lasagnes out of the oven.
And they don't look so bad, although we're definitely going to need bowls. I have created a new dish: lasagne soup.
But then something miraculous happens. It sets up. And awestruck, I put it on a plate.

And it's friggin' delicious. I mean so good, every part of it. A masterpiece.
Told you I was a kitchen ninja. Did you really think it was going to end poorly?

And you too can be a kitchen ninja. And make sure you check out all the exciting accounts of daring lasagnes from the fabulous daring bakers. Here are the details:

The March 2009 challenge is hosted by Mary of Beans and Caviar, Melinda of Melbourne Larder and Enza of Io Da Grande. They have chosen Lasagne of Emilia-Romagna from The Splendid Table by Lynne Rossetto Kasper as the challenge.

Lasagne of Emilia-Romagna (Lasagne Verdi al Forno)
(Serves 8 to 10 as a first course, 6 to 8 as a main dish)

Preparation Time: 15 minutes to assemble and 40 minutes cooking time

10 quarts (9 litres) salted water
1 recipe Spinach Pasta cut for lasagna (recipe follows)#1
1 recipe Bechamel Sauce (recipe follows)#2
1 recipe Country Style Ragu (recipe follows)#3
1 cup (4 ounces/125g) freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano

Method
Working Ahead:
The ragu and the béchamel sauce can be made up to three days ahead. The ragu can also be frozen for up to one month. The pasta can be rolled out, cut and dried up to 24 hours before cooking. The assembled lasagne can wait at room temperature (20 degrees Celsius/68 degrees Fahrenheit) about 1 hour before baking. Do not refrigerate it before baking, as the topping of béchamel and cheese will overcook by the time the center is hot.

Assembling the Ingredients:
Have all the sauces, rewarmed gently over a medium heat, and the pasta at hand. Have a large perforated skimmer and a large bowl of cold water next to the stove. Spread a double thickness of paper towels over a large counter space. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit (180 degrees Celsius). Oil or butter a 3 quart (approx 3 litre) shallow baking dish.

Cooking the Pasta: (note: I didn't do this)
Bring the salted water to a boil. Drop about four pieces of pasta in the water at a time. Cook about 2 minutes. If you are using dried pasta, cook about 4 minutes, taste, and cook longer if necessary. The pasta will continue cooking during baking, so make sure it is only barely tender. Lift the lasagne from the water with a skimmer, drain, and then slip into the bowl of cold water to stop cooking. When cool, lift out and dry on the paper towels. Repeat until all the pasta is cooked.

Assembling the Lasagne:
Spread a thin layer of béchamel over the bottom of the baking dish. Arrange a layer of about four overlapping sheets of pasta over the béchamel. Spread a thin layer of béchamel (about 3 or 4 spoonfuls) over the pasta, and then an equally thin layer of the ragu. Sprinkle with about 1&1/2 tablespoons of the béchamel and about 1/3 cup of the cheese. Repeat the layers until all ingredients are used, finishing with béchamel sauce and topping with a generous dusting of cheese.

Baking and Serving the Lasagne:
Cover the baking dish lightly with foil, taking care not to let it touch the top of the lasagne. Bake 40 minutes, or until almost heated through. Remove the foil and bake another 10 minutes, or until hot in the center (test by inserting a knife – if it comes out very warm, the dish is ready). Take care not to brown the cheese topping. It should be melted, creamy looking and barely tinged with a little gold. Turn off the oven, leave the door ajar and let the lasagne rest for about 10 minutes. Then serve. This is not a solid lasagne, but a moist one that slips a bit when it is cut and served.

#1 Spinach Egg Pasta (Pasta Verde)

Preparation: 45 minutes

Makes enough for 6 to 8 first course servings or 4 to 6 main course servings, equivalent to 1 pound (450g) dried boxed pasta.

2 jumbo eggs (2 ounces/60g or more) (note, I used four eggs, but this number with vary greatly depending on the size of the eggs and the humidity of the day)
10 ounces (300g) fresh spinach, rinsed dry, and finely chopped; or 6 ounces (170g) frozen chopped spinach, defrosted and squeezed dry
3&1/2 cups (14 ounces/400g) all purpose unbleached (plain) flour (organic stone ground preferred)

Working by Hand:

Equipment

A roomy work surface, 24 to 30 inches deep by 30 to 36 inches (60cm to 77cm deep by 60cm to 92cm). Any smooth surface will do, but marble cools dough slightly, making it less flexible than desired.

A pastry scraper and a small wooden spoon for blending the dough.

A wooden dowel-style rolling pin. In Italy, pasta makers use one about 35 inches long and 2 inches thick (89cm long and 5cm thick). The shorter American-style pin with handles at either end can be used, but the longer it is, the easier it is to roll the pasta.
Note: although it is not traditional, Enza has successfully made pasta with a marble rolling pin, and this can be substituted for the wooden pin, if you have one.

Plastic wrap to wrap the resting dough and to cover rolled-out pasta waiting to be filled. It protects the pasta from drying out too quickly.

A sharp chef’s knife for cutting pasta sheets.

Cloth-covered chair backs, broom handles, or specially designed pasta racks found in cookware shops for draping the pasta.

Mixing the dough:
Mound the flour in the center of your work surface and make a well in the middle. Add the eggs and spinach. Use a wooden spoon to beat together the eggs and spinach. Then gradually start incorporating shallow scrapings of flour from the sides of the well into the liquid. As you work more and more flour into the liquid, the well’s sides may collapse. Use a pastry scraper to keep the liquids from running off and to incorporate the last bits of flour into the dough. Don’t worry if it looks like a hopelessly rough and messy lump.

Kneading:
With the aid of the scraper to scoop up unruly pieces, start kneading the dough. Once it becomes a cohesive mass, use the scraper to remove any bits of hard flour on the work surface – these will make the dough lumpy. Knead the dough for about 3 minutes. Its consistency should be elastic and a little sticky. If it is too sticky to move easily, knead in a few more tablespoons of flour. Continue kneading about 10 minutes, or until the dough has become satiny, smooth, and very elastic. It will feel alive under your hands. Do not shortcut this step. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap, and let it relax at room temperature 30 minutes to 3 hours.

Stretching and Thinning:
If using an extra-long rolling pin work with half the dough at a time. With a regular-length rolling pin, roll out a quarter of the dough at a time and keep the rest of the dough wrapped. Lightly sprinkle a large work surface with flour. The idea is to stretch the dough rather than press down and push it. Shape it into a ball and begin rolling out to form a circle, frequently turning the disc of dough a quarter turn. As it thins outs, start rolling the disc back on the pin a quarter of the way toward the center and stretching it gently sideways by running the palms of your hands over the rolled-up dough from the center of the pin outward. Unroll, turn the disc a quarter turn, and repeat. Do twice more.

Stretch and even out the center of the disc by rolling the dough a quarter of the way back on the pin. Then gently push the rolling pin away from you with one hand while holding the sheet in place on the work surface with the other hand. Repeat three more times, turning the dough a quarter turn each time.

Repeat the two processes as the disc becomes larger and thinner. The goal is a sheet of even thickness. For lasagne, the sheet should be so thin that you can clearly see your hand through it and see colours. Cut into rectangles about 4 by 8 inches (10 x 20 cm). Note: Enza says that transparency is a crucial element of lasagne pasta and the dough should be rolled as thinly as possible. She says this is why her housekeeper has such strong arms!

Dry the pasta at room temperature and store in a sealed container or bag.

#2 Bechamel

Preparation Time: 15 minutes

4 tablespoons (2 ounces/60g) unsalted butter
4 tablespoons (2 ounces/60g) all purpose unbleached (plain) flour, organic stone ground preferred
2&2/3 cups (approx 570ml) milk
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
Freshly grated nutmeg to taste

Using a medium-sized saucepan, melt the butter over low to medium heat. Sift over the flour, whisk until smooth, and then stir (without stopping) for about 3 minutes. Whisk in the milk a little at a time and keep the mixture smooth. Bring to a slow simmer, and stir 3 to 4 minutes, or until the sauce thickens. Cook, stirring, for about 5 minutes, until the sauce thickens. Season with salt, pepper, and a hint of nutmeg.

#3 Country Style Ragu’ (Ragu alla Contadina)

Preparation Time: Ingredient Preparation Time 30 minutes and Cooking time 2 hours

Makes enough sauce for 1 recipe fresh pasta or 1 pound/450g dried pasta)

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil (45 mL)
2 ounces/60g pancetta, finely chopped
1 medium onion, minced
1 medium stalk celery with leaves, minced
1 small carrot, minced
4 ounces/125g boneless veal shoulder or round
4 ounces/125g pork loin, trimmed of fat, or 4 ounces/125g mild Italian sausage (made without fennel)
8 ounces/250g beef skirt steak, hanging tender, or boneless chuck blade or chuck center cut (in order of preference)
1 ounce/30g thinly sliced Prosciutto di Parma
2/3 cup (5 ounces/160ml) dry red wine
1 &1/2 cups (12 ounces/375ml) chicken or beef stock (homemade if possible)
2 cups (16 ounces/500ml) milk
3 canned plum tomatoes, drained
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Working Ahead:
The ragu can be made 3 days ahead. Cover and refrigerate. It also freezes well for up to 1 month. Skim the fat from the ragu’ before using it.

Browning the Ragu Base:
Heat the olive oil in a 12 inch (30cm) skillet (frying pan) over medium-high heat. Have a large saucepan handy to use once browning is complete. Add the pancetta and minced vegetables and sauté, stirring frequently with a wooden spoon, 10 minutes, or until the onions barely begin to color. Coarsely grind all the meats together, including the prosciutto, in a food processor or meat grinder. Stir into the pan and slowly brown over medium heat. First the meats will give off a liquid and turn dull grey but, as the liquid evaporates, browning will begin. Stir often, scooping under the meats with the wooden spatula. Protect the brown glaze forming on the bottom of the pan by turning the heat down. Cook 15 minutes, or until the meats are a deep brown. Turn the contents of the skillet into a strainer and shake out the fat. Turn them into the saucepan and set over medium heat.

Reducing and Simmering: Add the wine to the skillet, lowering the heat so the sauce bubbles quietly. Stir occasionally until the wine has reduced by half, about 3 minutes. Scrape up the brown glaze as the wine bubbles. Then pour the reduced wine into the saucepan and set the skillet aside.

Stir ½ cup stock into the saucepan and let it bubble slowly, 10 minutes, or until totally evaporated. Repeat with another ½ cup stock. Stir in the last 1/2 cup stock along with the milk. Adjust heat so the liquid bubbles very slowly. Partially cover the pot, and cook 1 hour. Stir frequently to check for sticking.

Add the tomatoes, crushing them as they go into the pot. Cook uncovered, at a very slow bubble for another 45 minutes, or until the sauce resembles a thick, meaty stew. Season with salt and pepper.

Creamed Broccoli with Parmesan

OK, so I've got to admit things have been a little rough around here the last few days. Both the girls have new hairdos of their own making, the tantrums are up, and as of today, the snot is flowing. And it's really cold outside. I mean, I know that we can't actually think that Spring will come to these parts in the end of March, but 25 degrees? In the middle of the day? Come on already. But even though I'm not feeling witty or well spoken, or even like a good parent or a cook right now, it makes me feel better to stop in here. So- unrelated to anything, here's a good broccoli recipe. That's all I have to say about that.

Creamed Broccoli With Parmesan
from Gourmet, March 2009

• 1 bunch broccoli (1 1/4 lb)
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 2 garlic cloves, smashed and peeled
• 1/4 teaspoon grated nutmeg
• 3 tablespoons grated parmesan
• 1/2 teaspoon fresh lemon juice

• Peel broccoli stems, then coarsely chop stems and florets. Cook broccoli in boiling salted water (1 1/2 tsp salt for 4 qt water) until just tender, 4 to 6 minutes. Drain in a colander and run under cold water to stop cooking.
• Simmer cream, garlic, nutmeg, 1/4 tsp salt, and 1/8 tsp pepper in a medium saucepan, uncovered, until slightly thickened and reduced to about 2/3 cup, about 5 minutes.
• Add broccoli and simmer, mashing with a potato masher, until coarsely mashed and heated through, about 2 minutes.
• Remove from heat and stir in parmesan and lemon juice.

Cupcakes for Spring

My grandmother called herself a pagan, and the way she demonstrated this spiritual identity to herself was by throwing me a Spring party every year. I'm not quite sure how this tradition started, but somewhere along the way she started making black bottom cupcakes, and I still remember munching them with my friends under the budding lilacs. My memories might be false, because these days the lilacs are still pretty dormant, but I'm not making up the cupcakes.
My grandmother died in a car accident when I was fourteen, and the Spring party passed on with her.
The other day, I came across this recipe, however, and I thought the timing couldn't be a coincidence. So here are some black bottom cupcakes for you, in celebration of the equinox. These are really good, but not entirely as I remember them, so I might end up playing a little more with the recipe. I'll let you know if come up with any dramatic improvements, but I think that David Lebovitz has mastered this as usual. It's just that his black bottom cupcake is a little more reserved than Grandma Shirley's.

Black-Bottom Cupcakes
The Great Book of Chocolate, David Lebovitz

Yield: 12 full-size or approximately 30 mini cupcakes

For the filling:
8 ounces cream cheese, regular or reduced fat, at room temperature
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1 large egg, at room temperature
2 ounces bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, coarsely chopped (or chocolate chips)

For the cupcakes:
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
5 tablespoons natural unsweetened cocoa powder (not Dutch-process)
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup water
1/3 cup unflavored vegetable oil
1 tablespoon white or cider vinegar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Make the filling: Beat together the cream cheese, granulated sugar, and egg until smooth. Stir in the chopped chocolate pieces. Set aside.

Make the cupcakes:
1. Adjust the rack to the center of the oven and preheat to 350°F (175°C). Butter a 12-cup muffin tin, or line the tin with paper muffin cups.
2. In a medium bowl sift together the flour, brown sugar, cocoa powder, baking soda, and salt. In a separate bowl or large measuring cup, mix together the water, oil, vinegar, and vanilla.
3. Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients and stir in the wet ingredients, stirring until just smooth.
4. Divide the batter among the muffin cups. Spoon a few tablespoons of the filling into the center of each cupcake, dividing the filling evenly. This will fill the cups almost completely, which is fine. Try to push th filling down into the center of each cupcake, if possible.
5. Bake for 25 minutes, or until the tops are slightly golden brown and the cupcakes feel springy when gently pressed. They will keep well unrefrigerated for 2 to 3 days if stored in an airtight container.

America Runs on Dunkin

So I must admit that these past few weeks, we've been reading quite a bit of Arnie the Doughnut This is a classic and delicious book brought to us by a friends Liz and J a few years ago. It is a fabulous book which will inevitably make your children want to eat doughnuts.
Now we eat doughnuts every so often- we've even made them, but the doughnuts we find around here aren't the sprinkly and colored kind who speak from the pages of Arnie. Now why talking doughnuts would induce us to such hunger, I'm not sure, but it overwhelms the whole family. And so we decided to take a little field trip down the hill last Saturday morning, to Dunkin Donuts.
Although this business has been in my town for quite a while, I've never been there. But I seem to be the only one. It was packed. Doughnuts were flying, coffee was flowing, it was a regular party down there. We let the girls each choose two flavors, and then we were out of there, famous box in hand.
As you may know, I have a bit of a resistance to oddly colored food in my children's tummies. But every so often that all goes out the window. Watching Rosie delicately eat her "pink flavored" doughnut, one might never believe that I had worked so hard to create the perfect pink raspberry puree in order to make the requested pink cupcakes for Rosie's third birthday.

And although even I sometimes try to forget it, it seems unimaginable that I would have worked so hard to color Sadie's last birthday cake green for her Wizard of Oz party, finally settling on Spirulina buttercream. (and no, I don't recommend it)

And how did the girls like their sprinkly brightly colored treats? They ate them happily, but afterwards Sadie claimed to like Taft Farm's fresh doughnuts more, and Rosie agreed, saying, "Yeah, I'm not sure about this Dunkin Donuts farm".

So later in the morning, when Sadie was dancing off her doughnuts at dance class, Rosie and I stopped in at Taft Farms to say hello to our old favorites.

The owner apologized for the small quantity on the plate, admitting that they only make them a few at a time to keep them warm. I told him that was quite alright with me.

Golden Brussels Sprouts

Okay, so I wasn't even going to write about these, because the recipe's all simple, and it has already been beautifully documented here, but this is what I made tonight, and it might just have been the best thing I've ever had. Or almost, I mean I know that's an odd thing to say about brussels sprouts, and maybe it has something to do with the nice day, and my sunny walk with my mother, and my well behaved children flourishing in swim classes today which continues to ease my maternal guilt. It's been a nice day. And for dinner we had squash soup and these little beauties, which we all just grabbed by the handful from the bowl until they were gone, a dazed look in our eyes like we were eating caramel popcorn or something else equally addictive. And when the bowl was empty, we were silent, except for Sadie, who just kept saying, I like brussels sprouts over and over. Wow. What an experience. I suggest it. So go look at Heidi's beautiful recipe and make it, but times it by 20, because it will blow your mind, and you won't be able to stop.

slow cooker porridge

Okay, for all you gourmands out there, skip this one and check back soon. But for you parents who feel that school mornings might just make you start to scream hysterically one of these days, I've got a secret.
Do you have a slow cooker? Is it dusty? If you don't have one, buy one today. If you happen to be tag-saling soon, you'll be sure to find one, or you can by one new for next to nothing. And trust me, the thing is worth its weight in gold.
This is what you do. Before you go to sleep, pull out the slow cooker. Put grains in cooker. Put water in cooker. Don't forget to turn it on. I've forgotten, and it's very sad. In the morning, breakfast is sitting on your counter, hot and ready. And you are free to panic over the fact that you need to make lunches for picky children, or that you can't find the hairbrush and your daughter looks like like she has a bird's nest on her head, or even that your child might accept the ultimatum that "If you don't get dressed right now young lady, you're going to school in your pajamas!" (I have to say this one doesn't usually work. My kids view this option with glee). Anyway, take your pick on the subject of panic. It just doesn't have to be making breakfast. Here are the details:
Basically, go for 1 1/2 cups of grain to 6 cups of water. It's important to fill your slow cooker more that half way so that the porridge won't burn. The above measurements will feel 4 to 6 hungry people. If you have a smaller family, get a smaller slow cooker, or save some for reheating tomorrow. The most basic foolproof porridge is steel cut oats, which will be creamy and fabulous in the slow cooker. But you can experiment and mix any of the following grains.

brown rice
white rice
arborio rice (super creamy)
millet
quinoa
polenta
barley

Go wild. Have a ball, and if you have any suggestions for dealing with the other morning panic topics, I would be so grateful.

The Great Tomato Debate: Solved and Resolved!

So, if you've been around here for a little while, you might remember the unbelievable and somewhat exciting mess that I made of many pounds of tomatoes last year. The question at hand was this: How does one successfully freeze a tomato? I'd had some failed attempts in the past that were horrible curdled tomato nastiness when I defrosted them, and I wanted to be one of those impressive people who has a great way of freezing tomatoes. So I choose the two most popular methods, and I decided to make an experiment of it in the interest of making myself a better and more impressive person. Just to recap, these are the two methods that I worked with.

1. I made really good tomato sauce- I deseeded and deskinned the tomatoes and everything. I did this late at night, cooked the sauce all night, and it was amazing. My recipe is here.
2. I quartered and slow roasted the tomatoes. I sprinkled with salt and pepper, put on a tray, and baked for a long time. I played with the time, but I always roasted the tomatoes at 400 degrees, for at least an hour, but up to 2 1/2 hours. Then I let them cool and put them into ziplocs.

Now as you can imagine, these two methods involve very different levels of work. So I did them both, put them away in the freezer, and waited patiently for the time when I absolutely needed to check the results.

And why would I need to freeze tomatoes? Because in February, the store plays a trick on us. Thinking that you will be too busy with your life to notice, they call this a tomato:

Yuck. Hard. Tasteless. Expensive. Worthless.
I know I'm being hard on them here, but have you bought one of these lately? I think, if anything, I'm being easy on these "tomatoes".

So yes, if we are to eat tomatoes in the winter, we must freeze the tomatoes. Or can, if you like, but that's a whole other blog post, and certainly not one you're getting out of me.

Are you dying with suspense? Ready for the answer? Get ready....

They both work really well! Do both!
The sauce stayed phenomenal, and the roasted tomatoes were so useful, I used them as I wold canned tomatoes.
So my suggestion is this- one day in late August/ early September when you're feeling like outdoing yourself and you have access to 20 or 30 pounds of tomatoes, make sauce. Then freeze it. But then, all through tomato season, roast tomatoes whenever you have a trays worth. Then you'll be totally set.
Of course, as resolved as I am at this moment, and as impressed as I feel with myself, you're always welcome to throw off my pride with a new method to try. Feel free to share.

Rosie's Strawberry Shortcake

There are a few things that I cling to when I am trying to feel like a good mother. Today, both of my kids kept their braids in all day long. Looking at their neat little hairstyles made me feel like a good mother. Last week, they started swim lessons at the community center. Watching them (finally) flailing around in the pool under the educational eye of a red cross swim teacher eased my troubled mother's heart. Because the truth is, and I can't really say why this is the case, there are are these little things that gnaw at me (Why can't I just get my kids into a swim class in the winter?! Why is the girls' hair so messy all the time?). When I can ease these little ridiculous anxieties that probably stem from my loving yet hippy nontraditional upbringing, I get a real moment of peace, and I can say, Yes, I am a mommy and sometimes a good one even. Silly, I know, but I'm not alone here right?
I kind of feel this way about birthday cake. Months before the girls' birthdays, I ask them what kind of cake they want, and then I think about it for a while. Rosie was pretty clear that for her fourth birthday she wanted strawberry shortcake. I don't always give my kids what they want, but I've got a real weakness for this birthday cake thing. One of these days, they're going to figure out that I will just about do anything to fulfill their birthday cake wishes, and the requests will start to get crazy. But until then, they go pretty easy on me.
Rosie's birthday is in February, and let's just say that the strawberries are not so plentiful at this time of year. Actually, they had a two for one deal going on strawberries at Big Y the morning of the party, but the problem is that when my Rose eats non-organic strawberries, she tends to puke her guts out for a good twelve hours afterward. So I pulled out the last bag of frozen strawberries that we picked from this really amazing farm, and I decided that I would make 1234 cake with whipped cream and strawberry sauce. This is a good cake. Make this cake. I hope that it brings you as much fulfillment ease of your anxieties as it brought me.


1234 Cake from most cookbooks by Alice Waters

makes 2 9- inch round cakes (can be easily halved or made into cupcakes)

1 cup milk
2 cups sugar
3 cups all purpose or cake flour, sifted, then measured
4 eggs
1 cup butter, softened
4 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Preheat the oven to 350. Butter the cake pans and line the bottom of each with parchment paper. Butter the paper and dust the pans with flour, tapping off the excess. Separate the eggs and set aside. Whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt. In another bowl, beat the butter until light and fluffy. Add the sugar, cream until fluffy. Beat in the four egg yolks, one at a time and then the vanilla. Then add the flour mixture and the milk alternately, starting and ending with one third of the flour. Stir until just incorporated. In another bowl, whisk the egg whites to stiff peaks. Stir one third of the whipped egg whites into the batter, then gently fold the rest into the batter. Pour the batter into the prepared pans and bake until a toothpick comes out clean, 30 to 40 minutes.

Now to make it Rosie's strawberry shortcake:
Put 1 1/2 pounds of frozen strawberries in a medium saucepan. Add 2T cup maple syrup. Cook until hot and bubbly. Cool to room temp.
Whip 2 1/2 cups heavy cream with 1 T maple syrup and 1 tsp vanilla extract.
Lay the two cakes out side by side, upside down so the flat part is facing up. Mix a little bit of the strawberry sauce with some of the whipped cream and spread on top of on of the cakes. Put the other cake on top- the flat parts should be together. Then coat the whole thing with whipped cream. After cutting into slices, put the strawberry sauce on each individual slice.

the salon challenge

So you want to take the challenge? Here's how it came about...

A ways back, I heard an essay on the NPR series This I Believe, that I just couldn't get out of my mind. Jim Haynes wrote about his weekly salons, dinners held in his Paris home for upwards of sixty people, all brought together from the various ends of the earth.
Dinner parties have always held a place in the warmest depths of me. As a precocious child of a single mother, I was often happily dragged to sit down dinners farther back in my history that I can even recount, and the warm glow around a table never fails to revive a sense of calm and comfort in me. As an adult (if that is truly what I am now), I love to create these dinners, planning menus and seating arrangements.
I love to create them, but more often than not, they don't actually happen. The girls occupy most of my food energy, and I find that four and six are not necessarily the best ages for dinner party guests. I have so many excuses why I can't throw a good dinner party- the dishwasher broke two years ago from Rosie hanging on it every day, the table's not quite big enough, money is tight, take your pick. But the truth is, I love to invite people to dinner, and even more, I love to invite combinations of people, and some people I don't even really know. It is just too easy to lock myself away up here, and I find the few dinner parties that have actually occurred around my table to be nothing short of expansive. And I don't know about you, but I could always use a bit more expanse in my world.
So here is the challenge. Every two months, have a dinner party. I will provide a general theme, and the only other rules are as follows.
1. You must invite at least six people beyond your immediate family.
2. Some percentage of your guests must be people that you don't know all that well.
3. It must be a sit down dinner.

the June 1 challenge theme
my dinner party

the August 1 challenge theme
my dinner party


the October 1 challenge theme
some dinner party thoughts
my dinner part one
my dinner part two

the January theme
my dinner party 

the May 2011 theme
my dinner party

Home Again, part 2

So I must follow up on this stolen lemons business that I mentioned earlier. This little journey takes place on the final day of my trip to LA. Here is the background:
After several days in Southern California, I had worked my way into a very sick and slightly pessimistic mood. My voice was gone, I was feverish, and I was done with Southern California as a whole. After all, there is only so much one can take of this:

Did you know that every palm tree in LA was planted in some way? I mean, this place was molded out of clay.
So here I am, sick and ready to go home, and I am staying with my very dear friend in South Pasadena by this point. Not only has she not seen me at all over the course of this visit, but she has also driven me around and folded the bed down for me every night so that I can drop into it with my clothes on. Luckily I could muster the energy to take off my red LA heels. Ouch. So here we are, my cell phone keeps ringing but I say to her, "Let's walk- I want to see your little town and feel like I've been somewhere on this trip!" And she looks at me dubiously, doubting that I'm up for it. But me fever is low enough to just give me a healthy flush, and I say, "We are taking a walk, and I am seeing South Pasadena." (South Pasadena fact: did you know that this is the town that the RNC used to show Main Street, USA?)
So we're walking, and I'm sweating, and my cell phone keeps ringing, and I answer it and think about what a good friend that I have that won't just leave me on the street because I'm talking on my phone while talking a walk that I made her take with me. But then, two really great things happen. The first is that she takes me to her favorite gourmet food store. This is not just any gourmet food store. There is a culinary school in South Pasadena, and this is it's supply store. I am now not only sweating, but also drooling. And I am so happy. Look at their spices.


I find lime oil, and gavottes, and chestnut puree, which I have been looking for so that I can make this. I am so happy. And I buy my excellent friend some pastry cups because she says she finds them intimidating, and sometimes I can be a bit mean about pushing my friends toward their fears.

And as we make our way back to her house, I confess that the only reason I would ever want to live in Southern California is for the lemon trees. And my desire for fresh wonderful lemons is so unreasonably strong, that sometimes I do think about moving to Southern California for only this reason. And my friend, my wonderful friend, you know what she does? She hops up on someone's funny little yard, and she steals four lemons for me. Can you believe her? I hope that you all have a friend this good.

So that's the end of my LA adventures. Snow and Ice and all, I like it more here. Does anyone know how to grow lemons in New England?