Our breaking points

You will not believe what I found at the farmer's market this past Saturday. Who knew that we grew fraises des bois in the States? I'm sure the fact that the head farmer is French didn't hurt things.

If you're never had the exquisite pleasure of sampling one of these gorgeous tiny strawberries, think of it as a concentrated strawberry floral flavor bomb, so delicate that a good quarter were squished by the time we brought them back to the apartment. However, since the farmer had thrown in an ENTIRE extra box with a smile and a "Mademoiselle", I didn't even mind much.

Fraises des bois mush is better than none at all.

On another note, Jimmy and I have been trying to cut down on our grocery costs, and didn't buy a single thing last week (except for some fresh ricotta from the Italian grocer two blocks away to pair with rhubarb compote, but we all have our breaking points), in an effort to use up the rather alarming supply of canned goods he's built up over the past two years. It was also a decision motivated in part because of the last minute trip we've lined up for Fourth of July week:

Tokyo

I can't tell you how excited I am about this. It'll be Jimmy's first trip to Tokyo (we're going in conjunction with research he's doing for a professor) and I can't wait to be back in Japan myself. There is something bewitching about that country that's hard to put a finger on.

I foresee quite a bit of sushi, mochi, honeydew melon popsiscles, onigiri and royal milk tea in my future.

I'd love to hear any suggestions you might have for places to eat, things to see, etc.

In exchange I'll leave you with rhubarb compote. Hopefully you're enjoying the tail end of its season, and are as sad to see it go as I am.

Rhubarb Compote

2 lbs. fresh rhubarb, leaves removed, cut into 1/2 inch chunks

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/4 cup orange juice

1/4 cup white wine (optional)

1 Tbs. vanilla extract

Throw the entire mess into a saucepan, stir it up well and let it bubble away over medium heat for about 15-20 minutes. Let it thicken at room temperature before slathering on toast, spooning over fresh ricotta or throwing into the middle of a french-style yogurt cake.

and the living is easy

I am one day away from being able to say that I made it out alive. Unscathed? Not so sure, but alive is a good way to be.


It feels as if I spent most of the past year twirling by myself in a corner, arms outstretched and head up to the sky, while others engaged in complicated choreography all around me.


Now I have the summer to work, sleep, exercise, watch movies in the park, turn myself back into a human being...and reevaluate. Summer is a good time for all of those things, but especially the last item on the list, I find. The days are long, which means there are more evenings on the patio that stretch past twilight. There are bunches of asparagus and strawberries now, tomatoes and peaches just around the corner.

And soon there will be pies...lots of pies.

(images above were taken at this time last year in Louviers).

A wee bit more time

After a year of plotting and planning, I now hold a polaroid camera in my hands.

Unbelievable...

And you know what? It really is as much fun as I thought it would be. As soon as I get a wee photo scanner, I can show off my new toy.

Until then, you'll have to satisfy yourself with a poladroid version of a digital photo from Chicago, circa 2009.


Also, I promise to update more this summer. Let's just say that everything they say about law school--totally true.

Oh well, in a month, I'll be back in the working world for a few months, and have more time to devote to my new toy and cooking.

...

A better handle on things

There are snowflakes swirling outside, highlighted by the multi-colored bulbs from a string of Christmas lights. Idyllic, except that I'm in a Starbucks and those chairs get really uncomfortable after an hour or so.


I just returned from a few short days in Chicago and am holed up once again in Ann Arbor to begin my second semester of law school. I'm trying to remind myself that not all of last semester was as crazy as finals period, but it's difficult sometimes. I have, of course, made all sorts of resolutions involving baking bread and visiting the Humane Society more often so here's hoping I'll have a better handle on things this go 'round.

Speaking of bread baking, I whipped up my first loaves over Christmas break with the help of The Bread Baker's Apprentice. Gorgeous, gorgeous stuff, that book. And my loaves weren't half bad either. Two loaves made fabulous crostini, c/o my father's technique. The loaves themselves didn't have nearly enough color, and the holes weren't there yet, but it was a start.


I took my time over break to relax, sleep, read by the fire, watch Christmas movies and cook. I made dinner practically every night, lots of braises and slow soups that require loads of time to simmer which in turn gave me plenty of time to do the previously mentioned activities. Old favorites (smothered cabbage risotto, slow-roasted tomatoes and the delicious confections you see pictured) came out of the woodwork, and we had our traditional holiday meals (roasted lamb, prime rib, fondue).


What I'd like to tell you about today, however, is the meal I made when I arrived tonight, the ultimate standby dinner. It was the first pasta dish I can remember making on my own (excluding buttered egg noodles and macaroni, of course). It's also the one recipe I make entirely by feel, so bear with me if the instructions are a bit loose.

This is one to keep though, people. It will never let you down, and once you try it, you'll find yourself in the habit of picking the ingredients up every time you're in a grocery store. I'm tempted to call it the LBD of dinners, but that sounds cliché. It is my go-to dinner though, when I want something easy and delicious, and when I want to treat myself a bit too.

Pasta Puttanesca

1 lb. linguine or spaghetti
5 cloves garlic, peeled and diced
3 Tbs. olive oil
1 Tbs. crushed red pepper
handful of drained capers
14 kalamata olives, pitted and roughly chopped
1 large (28 oz.) can whole peeled tomatoes, roughly chopped*
1 small can tomato sauce (optional--depends on whether I've got it in the cupboard)
1 tsp. dried oregano, or to taste
1 tin olive oil packed anchovies
salt and pepper
Parmesan cheese

Bring a large pot of water to boil. Once boiling, salt generously.

Heat up the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat then add the garlic and crushed red pepper. Once the garlic becomes fragrant and starts to turn golden, add in the capers, olives, tomatoes with their juice, tomato sauce (if using) and oregano. Let simmer for 15 minutes, stirring periodically.

Drain the anchovies and separate them as you place them in the sauce. Mix everything vigorously, using a wooden spoon to cut the anchovies in half to help incorporate them into the sauce. Turn the heat down to low and let cook through another 10-15 minutes, until the anchovies are completely dissolved in the sauce. Salt and pepper to taste (you probably won't need much, if any, salt).

Boil pasta according to directions, until al dente. Combine the pasta and sauce together and serve showered with freshly grated parmesan cheese. I recommend eating it in warmed bowls with a fork, spoon and glass of red wine.

Serves 4

*I've taken to using my kitchen scissors to cut the tomatoes while they're still in the can--much easier clean up and keeps the juices in the sauce, where they belong.

All voluptuous curves

I could start off by telling you about the molasses cookies...or wait, maybe it's time for my dad's favorite scones on the planet...but no. It's that time of year again, and there's only one recipe that fits the bill.

You see, here in Ann Arbor, fall has arrived. And with it, the gorgeous, luxuriant colors of changing leaves and that crisp feeling in the air that makes you tighten your scarf and pull on some slippers each morning. I remember reading an article my mom sent along years ago, describing fall as the Sophia Loren of seasons, all voluptuous curves and colors. Here in Ann Arbor, the description fits.


Oh, fall, how I have missed you.

Fall means school supplies and football games, tailgating and dark beer, sweaters and apples. But most of all, fall means pumpkins.

My mom has been making pumpkin bread for as long as I can remember. I once bought her a pumpkin-shaped mold, hoping it would entice her to bake up just one more batch before the season was over. I can't count the number of mornings I feasted on the stuff, equally good eaten cold out of the fridge or warmed up with a bit of butter slathered on top.


This recipe is a family treasure, and one I encourage you to make today, tomorrow and as long as you need a bit of fall spice in your life.

Pumpkin Bread

3 1/3 cups flour
3 cups sugar
2 tsp baking soda
1 1/2 tsp salt
3 tsp nutmeg (freshly grated, preferably)
3 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp ginger

2/3 cups water
1 cup vegetable oil
4 eggs
2 cups roasted pumpkin or canned pumpkin puree (you can also use acorn squash here, as I often do)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Sift the flour, sugar, baking soda, salt and spices into a large mixing bowl.

Combine the water, oil, eggs and roasted pumpkin in the blender and blend to mix well.

Add the wet blender mixture to the dry ingredients and mix well. Line two large loaf pans with aluminum foil (alternately, butter them well), then divide the batter even between them.

Bake for approximately one hour, until a knife inserted in the middle comes out clean.

Serves at least 1.

Note: This keeps very well wrapped in aluminum foil in the fridge.

At the end of the day

Anyone still out there?

If you are, then let me just take this moment to apologize profusely for my long, unexpected and rather extended absence from this space. I've missed it, and all my free time to do it, come to think of it.

Let's just say law school happened, shall we?

I am now one month in, and I can honestly say that I've never had so much schoolwork to do in my entire life. All I want to do at the end of the day is pop open a beer and fall into my reading chair. I've also never felt guiltier about doing anything other than schoolwork, which is a condition I have to remedy. So last week I threw a cocktail party, and I've got big pumpkin bread/farmer's market plans for this weekend.

I'm slowly working my way back into the normal swing of things. I just need a few more baked goods under my belt, and with the weather acting as it is right now, that shouldn't be a problem. There's nothing like cool, rainy days to make me gravitate towards the warmth of the oven.

I'll see you all back here very soon.

Still in limbo

Where does time go these days?

I have to let you know that I am STILL in limbo, but will finally be finishing up the moving process to Ann Arbor late this week. It's hard to believe, but the chips are finally falling into place and I will be starting school in the all too near future.

In terms of this blog, I think it's actually a good thing. I have no idea what the light will be like there, or when I'll find my camera cord so that I can unload some actual food photos on you all. But at least things will be settled and I'll definitely have opportunities for procrastination-driven blog posts.

I've been cooking a decent amount these past few weeks, and have even made friends (I hope) with a phenomenal lettuce farmer at the Chicago City Market, which is never a bad thing. Most of what I've been cooking revolves around salads and blanched green beans tossed with halved cherry tomatoes in a sherry vinaigrette (Thanks SmittenKitchen!). This stuff tastes so good without anything being done to it!

A friend came to visit a few weekends ago and we had a fabulous time sailing, capsizing and spending the rest of the day cooking in the kitchen. Biscuits, granola and garlic scape pesto were the results. I have the best friends, don't I?

The garlic scape pesto was AMAZING, but since they're out of season at the moment, I can't make another batch and properly measure this time. Unfortunately, that will have to wait until next summer.

In the meantime, I can direct you over to SmittenKitchen's lovely write-up about that addicting green bean and tomato salad I mentioned above and hope that will hold you over until I can finally finish moving and begin unpacking.