Spring Pasta

Joey and I went to New York this weekend. Yes again! I know, when I say it, I think it too. Two weekends away in one year? How is it possible?
Well, I've got some swell parents, and they have another child (yes that would be my sister) who likes to dress the girls like little dolls when they stay for the weekend, and I think that it keeps everyone happy and entertained.
We went down to the city for Book Expo America, the inferno of publishing conferences. I used to work for a very gracious international rights agent who gets Joey and I passes every time BEA is in New York. It's a pretty guaranteed migraine for me, but Joey would rather be talking up kids' book authors at BEA than anything else in the world (well mostly) and we go so he can get his yayas. We walk away with many signed copies of books we will most likely never read and random shwag like odd little notebooks and inappropriate stickers for the girls. I got to see what's coming out in cookbooks and talk up those folks as well. "Yes. I write about food." I am avoiding the word blog. "On the internet." There were some pretty exciting things coming out from Ten Speed Press and Chronicle, and a table with a Hare Krishna cookbook where they were trying to draw people to them with a big plate full of ladus. Yeah, well I can tell you, no matter what the Hare Krishnas tell you, chickpea flour and sugar do not a delectable sweet make.
The undisputible highlight of the trip was dinner at Al di la in Brooklyn. I'd been wanting to get over there for a while, and it was definitely the right time.

What can I say about our dinner? Let me give you the dream sequence version. Stunning, Amelie-esque servers, coming to the door to meet you as if they were welcoming you and just you in their very own home. Cold white wine and wrinkly black olives, lots of asparagus, beautiful shoes under every table. More wine. The truly phenomenal Jess and Peter so obligingly joining us even though she's a vegan and had to have two salads. More wine. Swiss Chard stem gnocchi, greener than anything you've ever seen. Lots of asparagus. Wine. Olive oil. Lamb chops, but I don't even remember much by that point. And the homemade chocolate ice cream in a tall glass surrounded by whipped cream. Oh I remember that part.
We really eat out once every few years and it's an emotional experience to feel like we're doing it right. I think eating a meal like that can turn you inside out in a good way- it's like backpacking in Europe when you're eighteen or getting stuck outide in a lightning storm when it starts to hail. I like it. I mean I really like it, but I don't know how often I can experience it without getting desensitized, which would be sad, I think.
And today I'm a little raw from the whole thing, and on our way back, we had the good fortune to find some really beautiful asparagus. The woman who sold it to me said, "I'm so glad you're buying this. It's the end of the season. So sad." I almost started crying right there. And I came home to my girls who were wearing matching clothes and had their faces painted. And Sadie couldn't stop talking about all the things that they had done. I kissed them, gave them their signed books and inappropriate stickers, and moving slowly, washed and chopped the asparagus.
I went out to the garden, looked at everything that had grown in the last twenty four hours, and got to thinning some greens. I'm glad I don't live in New York. I am, however, still thinking about that glass of ice cream.

Spring Pasta

1 lb cappelini
1 lb asparagus, chopped into bite sized pieces
juice of 1/2 lemon
as many baby greens as you can find, or thin out of the garden- spinach, tat soi, swiss chard, to name a few, roughly chopped
several sprigs of flat leaf parsley
4 cloves garlic, minced
olive oil
coarsely ground pepper
parmesan, grated in long strands with a vegetable peeler

Start the water to boil. Generously add salt to the water. In the mean time, coat the bottom of a sautee pan with olive oil. Add the garlic when the oil is hot and stir it until it is just starting to brown. Add the asparagus and continue to stir for a minute or so. Add the greens, parsley and lemon juice, stir until the greens are wilted. Remove from heat. By this point, your water might be boiling- add the pasta along with a couple of glugs of olive oil and turn the heat down a notch. Keep your eye on the pasta- it cooks fast. When it tastes done, drain, throw a quick splash of cold water on it, and transfer to a serving bowl. Add another glug of olive oil to the past and mix with your hands so as not to break the pasta. Put the greens on top. Make sure you don't leave any of the lemon juice or olive oil in the pan- it should all go in the bowl. Top with parmesan shavings and fresh pepper.

My Sprouter

Okay, so I'm just the littlest bit embarrassed here. I've had my sprouter for quite a little while now, and I just haven't had the heart to mention it.
Let's face it, I'm just no Alice Waters. While she likes to whip egg whites by hand, preferring the silence of her whisk to the roar of the Kitchen Aid, I really like my gadgets. Yeah, you've heard it- you know about my yogurt maker and my hand blender. And have I mentioned that one of the main reasons I had a wedding in the first place was for the Kitchen Aid? (totally worth it, by the way)
But now I want to tell you about my sprouter. To be fair, this one's got a little story.
I've always been a sprout fan. As a picky kid, I used to eat whole boxes of alfafa sprouts at a time. That love has never left me. And I buy sprouts, and the kids eat them too, and I like too put pea shoots in everything, which seems to be appreciated.
So a few months ago, I start thinking, "Why am I spending a million bucks on these organic sprouts, when I can be sprouting at home?" And although I know a mason jar usually does the trick, those easy pioneer methods don't usually seem to work for me, hence the gadgets. And so I think some more.
And of course, the answer is quite prominent. Since childhood, I have known a man who goes by the name Sproutman. I babysat for his kids, I stuffed envelopes when his business was younger- it just never occurred to me to ask his advice on the question. And he is just the nicest guy- his whole family is wonderful. I think that it is all of those sprouts they eat.
So when I ran into Sproutman at the community center (or as I like to call it "the gym", just so I can say "I went to the gym today") I asked him if he would help me out.
"Of course!" he said. "Stop by the office- I'll set you up."
I thought maybe I'd walk away with one of his little sproutbags, or an instructional booklet or something. And I did. I walked away with all those things- and my sprouter.
Joey laughed. "Where the hell is that going?" he asked me.
I slouched, shrugged. "I'll find somewhere." I was a little embarrassed.
But this is the thing. It's awesome.
It's a little mini greenhouse, and it makes amazing sprouts out of everything. Well not everything, but pretty close. You spread the seeds on a tray, put it in the bucket, put that bucket on another bucket with water, and it waters itself, several times an hour, The little sprinkler turns, and it entertains your kids.


After a week, you have many many fresh and wonderful sprouts, and then you start again.
So now I've done it. I've told you about the sprouter. And I feel OK. I don't feel silly- I feel good about sharing this precious information with you. Unless you think I'm silly- do you? Then I might feel a little silly- but the sprouter is so great, I swear! OK, maybe I have to get over this one a little more. I'm not Alice Waters, but that's alright, I guess. Maybe someday I'll whip my eggwhites by hand...

Daring and fabulous Caramelized Onion, Goat Cheese and Spinach Strudel

Well, I've done it. I've completed a daring baker challenge with absolutely no drama. Will you still love me anyway? Because this is a different sort of story. It has a happy ending, not to mention beginning and middle. Here we go...

The May Daring Bakers’ challenge was hosted by Linda of make life sweeter! and Courtney of Coco Cooks. They chose Apple Strudel from the recipe book Kaffeehaus: Exquisite Desserts from the Classic Cafés of Vienna, Budapest and Prague by Rick Rodgers.

Now when this challenge was announced, I was unthrilled. I've never made strudel, but I've also never really wanted to. And apple strudel especially wasn't doing much for my excitement level. It seemed hard, and stressful, and not really like something I wanted to eat so much.
So I put it out of my head for a while, and then when my friend Quinby said that she and her family were going to come for a visit on Memorial Day, I figured that that would be strudel day.
Then I got wind of the fact that some daring bakers were going for savory, and then it came to me: Caramelized Onion, Goat Cheese, and Spinach strudel.
I was so excited- I couldn't wait. It all changed. But I was nervous about the dough. I warned Joey too many times- "I'm going to need your support on this strudel," with weepy tears ready to come. And he was ready.
But it was easy! And not only easy, but incredibly enjoyable. From now on- I'm a strudel maker. I'm already thinking about the next time I get to play with that fabulous dough. I think it could become a little addictive. It's a daring baker success!
You want to see how to do it? This is what you need:

For the dough:

1 1/3 cups (200 g) unbleached flour
1/8 teaspoon salt (I used canola)
7 tablespoons (105 ml) water, plus more if needed
2 tablespoons (30 ml) vegetable oil, plus additional for coating the dough
1/2 teaspoon cider vinegar (I used red wine vinegar)

To coat the dough:

1 1/2 cups fresh bread crumbs
6 T melted butter, divided in half

For the filling:

About 6 medium onions, caramelized (Here's how you do that)
6 oz. goat cheese (I used olive oil and thyme Monterey chevre, and it was fabulous)
1/2 lb fresh baby spinach
sea salt

1. Combine the flour and salt in a stand-mixer fitted with the paddle attachment. Mix the water, oil and vinegar in a measuring cup. Add the water/oil mixture to the flour with the mixer on low speed. You will get a soft dough. Make sure it is not too dry, add a little more water if necessary.
Take the dough out of the mixer. Change to the dough hook. Put the dough ball back in the mixer. Let the dough knead on medium until you get a soft dough ball with a somewhat rough surface.

2. Take the dough out of the mixer and continue kneading by hand on an unfloured work surface. Knead for about 2 minutes. Pick up the dough and throw it down hard onto your working surface occasionally.

(Note: This dough is amazing. I had to stop myself from over kneading because it has the most incredible texture- super smooth and not sticky and workable.)

Shape the dough into a ball and transfer it to a plate. Oil the top of the dough ball lightly. Cover the ball tightly with plastic wrap. Allow to stand for 30-90 minutes (longer is better).

(I doubled the dough recipe because I was convinced that I would mess up the stretching part the first time)

While you're waiting for the dough to rest, you can work on the onions.

Also at this time, prepare the crumbs and butter. Melt 3 T of butter in a saucepan and add the breadcrumbs. Stir, toasting them, for about 3 minutes. Take off the heat and set aside. They should cool completely before they are put on the dough.
Melt the other 3 T butter in a separate pan and set aside. And you might as well preheat the oven to 400 at this point.

Now for the rolling:

3. It would be best if you have a work area that you can walk around on all sides like a 36 inch (90 cm) round table or a work surface of 23 x 38 inches (60 x 100 cm). Cover your working area with table cloth, dust it with flour and rub it into the fabric.

Put your dough ball in the middle and roll it out as much as you can.

Pick the dough up by holding it by an edge. This way the weight of the dough and gravity can help stretching it as it hangs. Using the back of your hands to gently stretch and pull the dough. You can use your forearms to support it.

Have fun with this. The dough will stretch, and it's ok if there are a few little holes.

4. The dough will become too large to hold. Put it on your work surface. Leave the thicker edge of the dough to hang over the edge of the table. Place your hands underneath the dough and stretch and pull the dough thinner using the backs of your hands. Stretch and pull the dough until it's about 2 feet (60 cm) wide and 3 feet (90 cm) long, it will be tissue-thin by this time.

Cut away the thick dough around the edges with scissors. The dough is now ready to be filled.

First, pour the cooled, melted butter over the dough and rub it in very gently with your hands.

Then evenly spread the cooled toasted breadcrumbs over the dough.
Why the breadcrumbs? When you roll your strudel, it's going to have four or five layers to it. The breadcrumbs keep the layers separated. Brilliant, isn't it?

Now go to the short end of the dough. About 2-4 inches up, apply the goat cheese in a 4 inch band. Then add the onions on top.
Then the spinach and sea salt.

OK, this part is scary for a second, But it will be alright- I promise. Gently lift the edge of the dough around the filling and turn it over once, giving it a bit of support with your hands.

Whew, you made it. Now is the really fun part. Gently pick up the tablecloth, and the thing is going to roll itself. No really, it will. Maria helped me out with this one.

Isn't that incredible?

I have to admit, this rolling process created the absolute natural high. You've got to try it.

When you get your bearings, put it onto a parchment lined baking sheet.

Then, bake it in the top two thirds of the oven for thirty minutes. While it's baking, get the kids to shuck some corn.
Maybe take some gratuitous cute pictures of them.

When the strudel comes out, it will be a nice tan color.

Kind of looks alive doesn't it? Don't be frightened- perfectly harmless.
Let it cool for at least 30 minutes. Then dig in.



Oh, your going to feel so good about yourself, you strudel maker. Leave the dishes on the table and head out for a nice walk.


Thanks so much to Linda and Courtney for what has turned out to be my favorite challenge so far. Go and see all the amazing strudel creations here!

Lovely Places

I've been thinking about lovely moments in lovely places lately. Moments where I'm not sure if I'm escaping or if the place helps me actually be there, right then.






I'm still really working on this one, recognizing how much I enjoy the loveliness. I'm not sure, but I think it's a good thing.

Popovers for The Anxious One

My big girl is a bit anxious. Her tummy has been hurting her most of the time, and it just seems like the stresses of the world are getting under her skin. We can't quite seem to figure out how to ease her mind and her belly. Or maybe she's allergic to something? It's all a bit of a mystery. It's been weighing on me, I must admit.
And there's something else, too. The other day, she looked in the mirror and said, "My legs are fat." This has started a whirlwind of questions- why does my belly stick out? Why is Auntie Maia so skinny? (she's ten, and tall and willowy like her dad) and many more. Turns out a few boys on the playground told her she was fat.
And boom. Is that all my hard work out the window? I've always said that one of my prime goals as a mom is to raise girls who feel good in their bodies. And I'm really working on it. But what about the rest of the world? Can I put a sign on my children that says "If you make one comment on my child's body, I will personally kick your ass"?

We're working on finding the right answers to the questions.
"Everybody comes in different shapes, and they're all beautiful. "
"We eat wonderful healthy food, and this helps our bodies to be just the right shape."
And it seems most importantly, "I love you."

And what does all of this have to do with popovers? Not so much. But I'm feeling a little helpless, and you know how it eases my soul to pass along a recipe.

This is my old tried and true popover recipe, from the original Moosewood. The illustrious Adrienne Kane just posted a fruit popover recipe, and I have to say that in all of my years of making hundreds of popovers, it has never occurred to me to stick a berry in there. But what a good idea. These will be gorgeous when you open the oven, but they fall quickly. Don't worry about it, they're fabulous no matter what their shape is.

Custardy Popovers (with blueberries)
Adapted from The Moosewood Cookbook by Mollie Katzen

4 eggs
1 cup milk
1 cup all purpose flour
3 T butter, melted
1 T sugar
1 cup frozen blueberries (or fresh, or any other berry for that matter)

Preheat the oven to 375. Put a muffin tin in the oven.
Beat together the milk and eggs and sugar. Mix in the flour. The batter will be lumpy. When the oven is hot, take the muffin pan out. Pour the melted butter into each muffin cup, and smear a bit on the parts in between the cups. Pour the batter evenly into each cup (approx. 2/3 full). Divide the berries into the cups, putting a small handful into each cup over the batter. Back into the oven the tin goes.
This is the most important part. DO NOT OPEN THE OVEN! Bake for 25 minutes. Then open the oven. Dance around because of the simplicity and wonderfulness of the popover. Or watch your kids dance around while you drink coffee. Eat while hot.

Makes 12 popovers.

The Salon Challenge- Inviting the World to Dinner

There is something I've been thinking about for a little while now that I want to share with you, no actually, invite you to. 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.

That's it. I will let you know the general theme by June 1, and the reveal date for your post will be July 1. If you don't have a blog but want to take part, you can send me photos and a writeup and I will post them. Just comment on this post and let me know that you'll be joining in. I can't wait.

just so you know

I just wanted to make sure that you've caught my new-ish feature around here. Look over there. To your right. No not my right, your right. Every week I'm going to be putting up a six song mix. And yes, joey does have some say in these mixes, so all of you asking for music, go check out the mixes. If you click on the link, it will bring you to an uploading site. Click the "download file" button, and you'll get a zip file, and depending on your computer, it will show up maybe on your desktop, or in your downloads file if you have a mac. Then drag it to your itunes, and you should be good. Let me know if you're having any trouble downloading the mixes, and let me know what you think of the music! This is really what I'm listening to every week around here, so I kind of think of this as getting you into my kitchen a little. Kind of like we're cooking together, eh?

The Daring Cooks Very First Challenge... Ricotta Gnocchi

Yeah, I know you've all been wondering what I did with that ricotta, and as usual, I've got a story for you.
Now let's just come out and say it. Do I create drama when I'm looking a challenge in the eye? Do I make something crazy happen, just so I can get a good story out of it and look witty, so that maybe you'll come back here again, looking for some good food laughs?

No! I swear it just happens! And I didn't think that it would. It was the first ever daring cooks challenge and it was gnocchi, something I have always wanted to make but never have, even though I know it's not that hard. Everything seemed perfect.
And I even made my own ricotta, and consciously decided to just go simple, no stress- classic gnocchi in a nice boring sage butter.
I mashed up the ricotta till it was nice and smooth.

Made the batter into nice little balls.
And when I tested one, somewhere in the midst of all of this, the thing dissolved. Completely. I didn't take a picture of this because I was busy swearing. I added an egg white as directed, tested again. Dissolved. Messed with it a little more. Tested, dissolved. The kids started to scream at each other. Joey came to the back door and asked me how it was going.
"GET OUT OF HERE!" (that's me)
Then, "Sadie hit me!" (that's Rosie)
Then, "Girls, can't you see I'm having a difficult time with my gnocchi?!!!" (I swear, these were my exact words, and I spoke them at a very high volume. At this moment. I was not so sure that this whole thing was a very good idea. And you can take "this whole thing" as you like it. Does it refer to the gnocchi? Or maybe the children? The husband? Take your pick.)
The whole thing was going downhill.
Against my better judgement, I just put some more flour on them and threw the damn things in the water. After a few minutes, they floated. Dead? Alive? Hard to tell.

I fixed up the butter sauce.

And, too tired for anything fancy, put them in a bowl.

And they were good. Undercooked, but like little ricotta dumplings swimming in sage butter pool. The emotional roller coaster of the meal prep was too much for me. I ate them too fast, had some leftover rhubarb custard tart, and went into a dairy coma. A daring dairy coma.

Thanks so much to Ivonne of Cream Puffs in Venice and Lis of La Mia Cucina for bringing us this very first Daring Cook's Challenge! Be sure to check out other gnocchi adventures at the Daring Kitchen.

Zuni Ricotta Gnocchi

Source: From The Zuni Café Cookbook.

Yield: Makes 40 to 48 gnocchi (serves 4 to 6)

Prep time: Step 1 will take 24 hours. Steps 2 through 4 will take approximately 1 hour.

Tips:

- If you can find it, use fresh ricotta. As Judy Rodgers advises in her recipe, there is no substitute for fresh ricotta. It may be a bit more expensive, but it's worth it.
- Do not skip the draining step. Even if the fresh ricotta doesn't look very wet, it is. Draining the ricotta will help your gnocchi tremendously.
- When shaping your gnocchi, resist the urge to over handle them. It's okay if they look a bit wrinkled or if they're not perfectly smooth.
- If you're not freezing the gnocchi for later, cook them as soon as you can. If you let them sit around too long they may become a bit sticky.
- For the variations to the challenge recipe, please see the end of the recipe.

Equipment required:

- Sieve
- Cheesecloth or paper towels
- Large mixing bowl
- Rubber spatula
- Tablespoon
- Baking dish or baking sheet
- Wax or parchment paper
- Small pot
- Large skillet
- Large pan or pot (very wide in diameter and at least 2 inches deep)

Videos that might help:

- Judy Rodgers Gnocchi Demo
- Making fresh ricotta demo
- Making ricotta gnocchi

For the gnocchi:

1 pound (454 grams/16 ounces) fresh ricotta (2 cups)
2 large cold eggs, lightly beaten
1 tablespoon (1/2 ounce) unsalted butter
2 or 3 fresh sage leaves, or a few pinches of freshly grated nutmeg, or a few pinches of chopped lemon zest (all optional)
½ ounce Parmigiano-Reggiano, grated (about ¼ cup very lightly packed)
about ¼ teaspoon salt (a little more if using kosher salt)
all-purpose flour for forming the gnocchi

For the gnocchi sauce:

8 tablespoons (227 grams/1/4 pound/4 ounces) butter, sliced
2 teaspoons water

Step 1 (the day before you make the gnocchi): Preparing the ricotta.

If the ricotta is too wet, your gnocchi will not form properly. In her cookbook, Judy Rodgers recommends checking the ricotta’s wetness. To test the ricotta, take a teaspoon or so and place it on a paper towel. If you notice a very large ring of dampness forming around the ricotta after a minute or so, then the ricotta is too wet. To remove some of the moisture, line a sieve with cheesecloth or paper towels and place the ricotta in the sieve. Cover it and let it drain for at least 8 hours and up to 24 hours in the refrigerator. Alternatively, you can wrap the ricotta carefully in cheesecloth (2 layers) and suspend it in your refrigerator for 8 to 24 hours with a bowl underneath to catch the water that’s released. Either way, it’s recommended that you do this step the day before you plan on making the gnocchi.

Step 2 (the day you plan on eating the gnocchi): Making the gnocchi dough.

To make great gnocchi, the ricotta has to be fairly smooth. Place the drained ricotta in a large bowl and mash it as best as you can with a rubber spatula or a large spoon (it’s best to use a utensil with some flexibility here). As you mash the ricotta, if you noticed that you can still see curds, then press the ricotta through a strainer to smooth it out as much as possible.

Add the lightly beaten eggs to the mashed ricotta.

Melt the tablespoon of butter. As it melts, add in the sage if you’re using it. If not, just melt the butter and add it to the ricotta mixture.

Add in any flavouring that you’re using (i.e., nutmeg, lemon zest, etc.). If you’re not using any particular flavouring, that’s fine.

Add the Parmigiano-Reggiano and the salt.

Beat all the ingredients together very well. You should end up with a soft and fluffy batter with no streaks (everything should be mixed in very well).

Step 3: Forming the gnocchi.

Fill a small pot with water and bring to a boil. When it boils, salt the water generously and keep it at a simmer. You will use this water to test the first gnocchi that you make to ensure that it holds together and that your gnocchi batter isn’t too damp.

In a large, shallow baking dish or on a sheet pan, make a bed of all-purpose flour that’s ½ an inch deep.

With a spatula, scrape the ricotta mixture away from the sides of the bowl and form a large mass in the centre of your bowl.

Using a tablespoon, scoop up about 2 to 3 teaspoons of batter and then holding the spoon at an angle, use your finger tip to gently push the ball of dough from the spoon into the bed of flour.

At this point you can either shake the dish or pan gently to ensure that the flour covers the gnocchi or use your fingers to very gently dust the gnocchi with flour. Gently pick up the gnocchi and cradle it in your hand rolling it to form it in an oval as best as you can, at no point should you squeeze it. What you’re looking for is an oval lump of sorts that’s dusted in flour and plump.

Gently place your gnocchi in the simmering water. It will sink and then bob to the top. From the time that it bobs to the surface, you want to cook the gnocchi until it’s just firm. This could take 3 to 5 minutes.

If your gnocchi begins to fall apart, this means that the ricotta cheese was probably still too wet. You can remedy this by beating a teaspoon of egg white into your gnocchi batter. If your gnocchi batter was fluffy but the sample comes out heavy, add a teaspoon of beaten egg to the batter and beat that in. Test a second gnocchi to ensure success.

Form the rest of your gnocchi. You can put 4 to 6 gnocchi in the bed of flour at a time. But don’t overcrowd your bed of flour or you may damage your gnocchi as you coat them.

Have a sheet pan ready to rest the formed gnocchi on. Line the sheet pan with wax or parchment paper and dust it with flour.

You can cook the gnocchi right away, however, Judy Rodgers recommends storing them in the refrigerator for an hour prior to cooking to allow them to firm up.

Step 4: Cooking the gnocchi.

Have a large skillet ready to go. Place the butter and water for the sauce in the skillet and set aside.

In the largest pan or pot that you have (make sure it’s wide), bring at least 2 quarts of water to a boil (you can use as much as 3 quarts of water if your pot permits). You need a wide pot or pan so that your gnocchi won’t bump into each other and damage each other.

Once the water is boiling, salt it generously.

Drop the gnocchi into the water one by one. Once they float to the top, cook them for 3 to 5 minutes (as in the case with the test gnocchi).

When the gnocchi float to the top, you can start your sauce while you wait for them to finish cooking.

Place the skillet over medium heat and melt the butter. Swirl it gently a few times as it melts. As soon as it melts and is incorporated with the water, turn off the heat. Your gnocchi should be cooked by now.

With a slotted spoon, remove the gnocchi from the boiling water and gently drop into the butter sauce. Carefully roll in the sauce until coated. Serve immediately.

__________________

Curds and Whey

I'm a little off my game the last few days. I'll blame it on the kitchen cabinet concussion. Last night I was closing up after a dance rehearsal, and for the first time in my life, I locked my keys in my car. That was me, standing alone in a dark parking lot in a leotard and leggings, talking to my car. "No. No. Come on. You're not locked. This door's open right?" But alas, the car wouldn't accept my sweet murmurings of feigned love, and it was definitely locked. Luckily I was able to let myself back into the studio and call Joey, who promptly called our neighbor, borrowed her car so that he could bring me the extra key, and borrowed her daughter so that she could babysit while he drove to my rescue. Have you ever heard of a lamer reason to hire a babysitter? We were going to try to hit her up for a night this week so that we could see Star Trek, but we blew our babysitting currency on my little incident.
Good thing I made bread earlier in the day. Although I've often aspired to be, I'm not a regular bread maker. I go through waves, where I make several loaves of decent albeit yeasty tasting dense bread. But I made this bread because a few days earlier I made ricotta cheese, and I had a lot of whey in my fridge, desperately looking for a purpose (well maybe it was me desperately looking for a purpose, but you get my meaning). So I made English Muffin Bread, made with whey, and it was pretty tasty. Excellent toast. And I had an extra loaf to send home to my heroic neighbor. Oh Hannah, words cannot express...
So I'm going to tell you about both the ricotta and the bread today. The ricotta is so easy, it's almost criminal, and you'll make it and then you'll have whey, desperately looking for a purpose. Then, you make bread.
The fabulous Lisa Michele inspired me with a chronicle of her homemade ricotta, and I couldn't wait to start. I poured my milk, I heated, I squeezed my lemon juice. But contrary to what was supposed to happen, the milk wouldn't curdle. I have no doubt that her instructions would work for anyone who is not off her game for a few days, but the lemon juice didn't do the trick for me. So I went searching and found that vinegar can also be used, and the milk curdled beautifully.

Homemade Ricotta
makes 2 cups

8 cups whole milk
1 cup heavy cream
1/3 cup white vinegar
salt to taste

Heat the milk and cream together until it comes to a boil, then take off the heat. Add the vinegar and stir for one minute. The mixture will curdle immediately. Cover with dish towel and let sit for at least two hours.
Then line a colander with cheese cloth. Pour the curds and whey into the colander, making sure that you have a pot or bowl underneath to catch the whey.

Refrigerate the whey. Put the colander with the curds, along with the bowl, into the fridge to drain for up to 24 hours, depending on how dry you want your ricotta. Salt to taste.


English Muffin Bread with Whey
from Home Cheese Making by Ricki Carroll

Makes 4 loaves

2 T sugar
1 1/3 cups warm water
4 packages or 4 T active dry yeast
cornmeal, for sprinkling
12 cups sifted all purpose flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
4 cups whey (milk will work too)
4 tsp salt

Dissolve the sugar in the water.
Pour the yeast into a large bowl. Add the sugar water and let sit for ten minutes.
Grease four loaf pans and sprinkle with cornmeal.
In a large bowl, combine six cups of the flour with the baking soda.
In a medium sized saucepan, combine the whey and salt and warm over low heat until lukewarm.
Stir the yeast mixture, then pour the warm whey into it. Stir to combine.
Pour the yeast mixture into the flour mixture and stir. Add the remaining flour and combine. Keep stirring until all the flour is absorbed.
Spoon the batter into the prepared pans. Sprinkle the tops with cornmeal. Let rise until the center is 1 1/2 inches above the rim of the pan.
Bake for 30 minutes.

Rhubarb Custard Tart

I've been thinking about a rhubarb tart for days, sort of obsessively, like Rapunzel's Mom. And I've had this thought of this perfect little custardy French thing, and it seems pretty classic, like something I would find in any book, but it was NOWHERE TO BE FOUND. And I got crazier and crazier, and then of course, I bonked my head, which made me even crazier, and then I went out there and pulled the rhubarb today. This is something new that I just learned- rhubarb should be pulled, not cut, or else the plant rots out. It's very satisfying to do this, you have to get a good hold and pull, and usually you pull with such force that you end up on your bum. So I pulled the rhubarb and then I made this tart, ignoring the many many little girls in the house and muttering to myself as I worked. Maybe it's the poisonous leaves, but it's looking like rhubarb brings out the crazy in me.
So, not for lack of trying, turns out I had to make this one up. It was just that I couldn't quite find that thing that I knew I wanted. But here it is, and it was just what what I was imagining, dreaming of, and obsessing about. The crust is this phenomenal recipe that David Lebovitz just posted, alluring and enchanting in its unusual method of creation, which involves no cold butter. I find this to be very exciting. The tart is not too sweet, and whips up pretty quickly. I hope that you gain as much satisfaction from it as I have.

Rhubarb Custard Tart

The Crust
from David Lebovitz, who adapted it from a recipe by Paule Caillat of Promenades Gourmandes

3 ounces unsalted butter, cut into pieces

1 tablespoon canola oil

3 tablespoons water

1 tablespoon sugar

1/8 teaspoon salt

5 ounces (slightly rounded cup) flour

The Filling

13 ounces rhubarb, chopped into bite sized pieces

4 T sugar

1 ounce butter

a good squeeze of a lemon

The Custard

3 large eggs

3/4 cup whole milk yogurt

1 T vanilla extract

1/4 cup sugar

1/4 tsp salt

Preheat the oven to 410 degrees.

In a medium-sized ovenproof bowl, combine the butter, oil, water, sugar, and salt. Place the bowl in the oven for 15 minutes, until the butter is bubbling and starts to brown just around the edges. When done, remove the bowl from oven (and be careful, since the bowl will be hot and the mixture might sputter a bit), dump in the flour and stir it in quickly, until it comes together and forms a ball which pulls away from the sides of the bowl. Transfer the dough to a 9-inch tart mold with a removable bottom and spread it a bit with a spatula. Once the dough is cool enough to handle, pat it into the shell with the heel of your and, and use your fingers to press it up the sides of the tart mold. Reserve a small piece of dough, about the size of a raspberry, for patching any cracks. Prick the dough all over with the tines of a fork about ten times, then bake the tart shell in the oven for 15 minutes, or until the dough is golden brown. Remove from the oven and if there are any sizable cracks, use the bits of reserved dough to fill in and patch them. Let the shell cool before filling.

Reduce the heat to 375 degrees.

Melt the butter in a medium skillet. Add the rhubarb, sugar and lemon. Cook, stirring occasionally, for about five minutes, or until the rhubarb is tender. Pour mixture into prepared tart shell.

Put the eggs, yogurt, sugar, vanilla, and salt into the blender and blend until you have a smooth custard. Pour over the rhubarb in the tart shell.

Bake for 45 minutes, or until the tart is set and the top is starting to turn golden. Let cool and refrigerate for at least three hours before serving.

things that are growing

Well, it was the horrible metal cabinets in my kitchen that everyone loves vs. me, and the cabinets won. I got quite a lump on my head and can't seem to think of the words for anything. Don't worry- I went to the doctor and I won't be pulling a Natasha Richardson any time soon, but I just can't count on myself to be witty at the moment, so I thought I'd give you the relatively silent tour of the garden that I've been promising.

This is the new raspberry patch, so lovingly created by my dear friends, Jen and Pete.

Here are the vegetables so far, slowly making their way.

Oh, yes, the compost palace in it's home.



And the orchard, protected by it's lovely fence. My neighbor asked if we've got any POWs over here, but I love my fence.


Because soon (in my ideal world, of course) there will be peas and morning glories climbing up it. I swear there is a pea shoot growing out of here- can you see it?

More Fruit trees...

And the gingko that Molly and Aurel planted before moving to Istanbul.
and miraculous garlic!

I'll check back in again when the words come back later. In the mean time, I'm maybe failing at making ricotta, and I made something else that I'll tell you about if it tastes good. I'll give you a hint.
Until then...