The Red Cat’s Quick Sauté of Zucchini, Almonds, and Pecorino

I actually read Frank Bruni's review today--most Wednesdays I give up around the third paragraph, once I’ve confirmed yet again that he’s still.trying.too.hard. Reading the Bruni Digest is so much more satisfying. But I finished this one, because he reviewed The Red Cat, one of my favorite restaurants. And for once I not only understood the point Bruni was trying to make, I even agreed with him.

I bring this up because dear old Frank reminded me that I’ve been meaning to attempt to cook at home one of chef Jimmy Bradley’s Red Cat classics, in much the same way that Joe over at Gothamist does with his “Eating In” column. How could I have forgotten that I wanted to do this? Especially when I happened to have all the necessary ingredients (OK, there are only four) in my kitchen at this very minute? I couldn’t wait to get home tonight and start shredding zuke.

Now that I’ve done it, I have to say, this recipe is genius. It’s about the simplest thing I’ve ever made, short of dumping cold cereal in a bowl and pouring on milk. Less than ten minutes after I washed my zucchini, I was chowing down. This may be my new trick for dinner parties—it’s hella impressive-looking, with a sophisticated mix of flavors and textures, and it tastes fab-u-lous.

Weight Watchers readers: This is 4 points per serving.

Quick Sauté of Zucchini, Almonds, and Pecorino
Inspired by The Red Cat
Serves 2

1 T. olive oil
2 T. blanched sliced almonds
3 small zucchini [you really don’t want to use the larger ones, since they’ll be too fleshy, and the proportion of white to green will be too great], shredded on the large holes of a box grater
Salt & pepper
2 T. shaved pecorino

Heat oil in a large nonstick sauté pan over high heat, and add almonds. Toast, stirring frequently, until golden brown, then add all the zucchini. Toss it all around for less than a minute—the idea is just to heat the zucchini through, not to cook it. If you leave it on for too long, the shreds will begin to release water and the whole dish will be soggy. Remove from the heat and add salt and pepper to taste. Divide between two plates and top each with half the cheese. Mmmmmmm.

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Now I've Seen Everything

In an email newsletter I get about the publishing business, I just read that Ten Speed Press has acquired Hostess's The Twinkies Cookbook, "a compilation of recipes contributed by real people showing the many ways Twinkies can be used in cooking--both sweet and savory," to be published next spring.



Sweet and savory? It's bad enough to imagine actually cooking with those nuclear-blast-proof "pastries," but making something other than dessert is mind-bending at best, repulsive at worst.

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Strawberry-Banana Muffins

There are still so many gorgeous strawberries at the farmer’s market, I find it nearly impossible to avoid buying them by the armload. On Friday I picked up a quart at Union Square, and then yesterday I simply had to bring home another two (yes, quarts) at the much smaller market near my home. As long as these deep red, small, juicy babies are displayed with such abundance, I’m afraid I’ll have to keep taking them home.

There’s only one thing to do when you’ve got a surplus of strawberries (I nearly typed “too many,” but you can never have too many strawberries, really): try new recipes! This is an adaptation of something I found online. I’ve tinkered with the original recipe quite a bit so I’m considering this sufficiently bowdlerized that I can call it my own.

Weight Watchers readers: these are 4 points a muffin. Of course, I just had two and I’m feeling a little stuffed—one’s more than enough, really!

Strawberry-Banana Muffins
Makes 12

1 large egg
2 egg whites
½ c. sugar
½ c. Splenda
¼ c. oil
¾ c. mashed fresh strawberries
1 medium banana, mashed
½ t. almond extract
1 ¾ c. flour
2 t. baking powder
½ t. baking soda
½ t. salt
½ c. rolled oats (not quick-cooking)

Preheat oven to 350. Coat two muffin tins with non-stick spray and set aside.

In large mixing bowl whisk egg and whites until frothy. Whisk in sugar, Splenda, oil, strawberries, banana, and almond extract.

In separate bowl combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and oats. Whisk until distributed evenly, then add the dry mixture to the wet. Stir gently, just until combined—with low-fat baking you really don’t want to touch it too much or the finished product will be tough. Fill each muffin cup 2/3 full. Bake 20-25 minutes, until tops are golden brown. Turn muffins out onto a wire rack immediately and let cool. Serve warm, or at room temperature.

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Sweet Potato Forest

OK, so apparently even sweet potatoes have a shelf life.

This pair is probably two or three months old, and to be honest I forgot we even had them. When I went to grab a vidalia onion from our potato-n-onion basket just now, their spiny branches gave me quite a jolt--I swear, just a few days ago when last I cooked, there was nothing remotely resembling this alien forest lurking in our pantry.

There is something beautiful about these slender, grasping growths. Their tender shade of pink seems young and vulnerable, and yet strong enough to stand perfectly straight, without bow or curve. The potatoes still felt perfectly firm. Perhaps they were still edible. I don't know, though, and I preferred not to take chances.

I threw them out. I feel strangely guilty about that.

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Strawberry-Rhubarb Bread

After the success of the strawberry-rhubarb compote that went with last week’s chocolate polenta cake, I simply had to buy more of both items at the farmer’s market yesterday. But this morning, instead of simply making more of that yummy (and extremely diet-friendly) dish, I felt like baking. Something brunchy, Sunday morningish. As always, I pulled out my most trusted baking book first, The King Arthur Flour Baker's Companion. Sure enough, there on page 86 was exactly what I sought: Walnut-Strawberry Quick Bread. A variation employed rhubarb.

Since I’m not overly fond of walnuts, I decided to substitute toasted pecans. And since I’m on Weight Watchers (even though I’m failing miserably), I lightened the recipe. The version provided below uses Splenda, fewer whole eggs, and applesauce in place of half the oil. Be warned, this is a very moist bread. When you cut into it, you’ll think perhaps it’s not done, but it is. And it’s delicious. Not too sweet, with tart bursts of rhubarb and juicy strawberries, studded with crunchy nuts. It may be too good, in fact—I’ve already had three slices today. Aargh…

Weight Watchers readers: One slice is 4 points! Definitely more than I’d like it to be, considering how much I’ve eaten.

Strawberry-Rhubarb Bread
Adapted from The King Arthur Flour Baker's Companion
Serves 12

½ cup chopped toasted pecans
1 ½ cups all-purpose flour
½ cup sugar
½ cup Splenda
½ t. baking soda
¼ t. salt
¼ t. nutmeg
1 T. lemon zest
2 large egg whites
1 large egg
¾ cup mashed strawberries [drain them, if they’re very juicy]
¾ cup cooked rhubarb [about 3 stalks]
¼ cup vegetable oil
¼ cup unsweetened applesauce

Preheat the oven to 350. Spray a loaf pan with nonstick spray and set aside.

In a medium-sized mixing bowl, whisk together the pecans, flour, Splenda, sugar, soda, salt, and nutmeg. In a separate bowl, whisk together the remaining ingredients. Combine the wet ingredients with the dry, whisking just until blended. [As with all low-fat baked goods, you don’t want to overmix or it’ll get tough.]

Pour the batter into the prepared pan, and bake for 55 to 65 minutes, until a cake tester inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool the bread in the pan for 15 minutes, then remove it from the pan and transfer to a rack to cool completely, 1 hour or longer [I couldn’t wait, of course, which might explain why mine looked underdone when I cut into it.] The recipe says that for best flavor and easiest slicing, you should wrap the bread while still slightly warm and let it sit overnight. Yeah, right.

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“Summer Friday” Salad: Sugar Snap Peas, Strawberries, Cucumber, and Pecorino

One of the greatest perks of working in book publishing is the longstanding practice of “Summer Friday”: Monday through Thursday, working hours are extended until 5:45, and on Friday quitting time is at 1:00. Anyone who does the math discovers that it’s a bargain in favor of the employees—especially since many of them work until 5:45 pretty routinely anyway. It sort of makes up for the low pay in the early years of one’s career, a reminder of the genteel business book publishing used to be, in the decades before anyone expected to actually make a substantial profit.

I haven’t had to think about summer Fridays in three years, since I left my cushy (though high-pressure) job. But for the last two months I’ve been freelancing full-time for a book publisher, in their offices, so I’ve been living by their rules. Today I stepped out of the office and into the mid-afternoon sun, grateful that the humidity and heat that had been so oppressive just a few days ago has finally broken. I’ll go to the Farmer’s Market on my way home, I thought. The Friday market in Union Square, although smaller than the Saturday one, would be nearly jumping—the variety isn’t what it will be in just a few weeks, but I was counting on finding something fun, something different, something interesting. And I did.

Sugar snap peas were everywhere—I counted at least four different farmers selling them, all with signs encouraging shoppers to sample their harvest. I could’ve made a meal just walking from stand to stand, munching on those sweet, crunchy, juicy pods. I’ve never cooked with them before, but lord knows I’ve eaten enough in restaurants to know how good they can be. I picked up a pound, a quart of small, glossy strawberries, and a bunch of mint. At the Whole Foods across the street, I bought a small hunk of an interesting-looking black pepper pecorino and some Marcona almonds, then hopped on the L train.

My salad needed one more item, one more texture, to make it a home run. Luckily, I had an English cucumber in the fridge. The mild, lightly sweet flavor would play nicely off the stronger, more sugary stuff, and the brisk crispness would give the dish an extra bounce. For a dressing, I combined lemon juice, rice vinegar, hazelnut oil, and a dash each of Splenda and cayenne—the salt and pepper is in the cheese, so if you’re not using it do add a little here.

This is a pretty fantabulous salad, if I do say so myself.

Weight Watchers readers: According to the recipe builder on their site, this comes out to 8 points for half the recipe—but it’s not perfect since they don’t have all the ingredients in their database. I substituted the closest things I could find.

“Summer Friday” Salad
Serves 2 if you’re not eating much else, or 4 as a side/app

1 pound sugar snap peas, ends snipped off & strings removed
½ cup strawberries, quartered
4” length of English cucumber, halved and sliced ¼” thick
15-20 Marcona almonds
8 mint leaves, torn
Juice of ½ lemon
1 ½ T. rice vinegar
2 T. hazelnut oil
Dash each cayenne and sugar [I used Splenda]
1/3 cup Pecorino Pepato, shaved

While you’re trimming the peas, bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Have a large bowl of ice water nearby. Blanch the peas for 1 minute, then remove to the ice water to stop the cooking. Drain well.

Put the peas, the strawberries, the cucumber, the almonds, and the mint in a large bowl and toss gently to combine.

Combine the lemon juice, the rice vinegar, the hazelnut oil, and the spices. [I put it all in a small Rubbermaid container and shake vigorously.] Pour it over the salad, toss to combine, and scatter the cheese on top.

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Sweets That Pack Heat

Here's a new clip from this week's Time Out New York, a piece I wrote about desserts spiked with chili. Researching this one did wonders for my Weight Watchers effort.

Hopefully it's legible...

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Dangerous, but Versatile: Herbed Polenta Triangles

It was to be a memorable, yet still blissfully simple, dinner, one I planned even before I left for work that morning: Herb-flecked triangles of polenta, served with a ragu of mushrooms. During the course of my polenta hunt for the cake I wrote about yesterday, I had accidentally picked up a package of the instant stuff, and pairing it with my surfeit of mushrooms seemed like a wonderful idea for a weeknight meal.

I was a polenta-cooking virgin, uncertain of what to expect—all I knew was that I didn’t particularly care for it in its soft, creamy form, but when firm and knife-friendly, its golden yellow, slightly chewy nature had a tendency to make me smile. After thumbing through my cookbooks and searching online for recipes, I found one that sounded like exactly what I had in mind, on Epicurious. Best of all, with the instant polenta (which is pre-cooked, then dehydrated), it would only require about five minutes in front of the stove. Little did I know how dangerous those five minutes would turn out to be! Be warned: As it thickens in the pot, polenta has a tendency to burp, heaving gobs of itself out of the hot pan and all over the kitchen, including the cook. I still have a small red mark on my forehead from where some of it landed. But no matter, it was well worth it. Once I’d spread the mixture into the baking dish and smoothed it carefully with an offset spatula, my injury was forgotten.

The rest of the meal didn’t quite turn out as planned. Just before I was to start prepping all those mushrooms, S called to say he was stuck at work and wouldn’t be home for dinner after all. Now, I’m perfectly happy to cook for myself, but we hadn’t installed our air conditioners yet and to be honest I was dreading spending all that time in a hot kitchen, so I decided to turn my polenta triangles into polenta croutons for a big salad—that’s the picture you see above. A little freshly grated parmiggiano, a few minutes in the toaster oven, and voila! Instant yumminess, with no real heat. The centers stayed wonderfully soft, while the cheese gave the croutons a nice salty crust.

About an hour later the phone rang again: S, on his way home, hungry. He’d worked late all right, but hadn’t bothered to eat. I wasn’t about to start cleaning all those mushrooms now, and I’d just about finished the salad fixings… A quick rummage through the fridge yielded a treasure: about ½ cup of Little Gram’s sauce. Perfect! I drizzled it over the remaining polenta triangles, sprinkled the top with a healthy handful of parmiggiano, and popped it in a 350 oven until S arrived home twenty minutes later. He was thrilled, and so was I: It turns out Herbed Polenta Triangles are about as fast, and as versatile, as can be. So who cares if you might end up in the emergency room?

Weight Watchers readers: A serving of 4 triangles without cheese or sauce is 4 points.



Herbed Polenta Triangles
Adapted from Epicurious
Serves 4

Nonstick vegetable oil spray
2 2/3 cups canned low-salt chicken broth
½ T. butter
½ t. salt
¾ cup plus 2 T. instant polenta
2 T. chopped Italian parsley
2 T. fresh thyme leaves

Spray an 8-inch square glass baking dish with vegetable oil spray. Bring broth and butter to boil in heavy medium saucepan. Gradually add cornmeal, whisking constantly. Lower heat and whisk until mixture is very thick and starts pulling away from pan, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat. Stir in parsley and thyme. Immediately transfer polenta to baking dish, spreading evenly. Cool 5 minutes, then cut polenta into 8 triangles; leave in baking dish. (Can be made 1 day ahead. Cover; chill. Rewarm in microwave oven on high, about 2 minutes.)



To make polenta croutons, remove the triangles from the dish and spread them out on a baking sheet. Sprinkle each one with ½ T. grated parmesan cheese, and bake in a toaster oven at about 350 until the cheese starts to bubble and the edges brown.

To make polenta “lasagna,” leave the triangles in the baking dish and spoon prepared pasta sauce over the top. Sprinkle liberally with parmesan and bake in a 350 oven (not the toaster oven, the real one) for 20-30 minutes.

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Chocolate Polenta Cake with Strawberry-Rhubarb Compote

I’m always on the lookout for new dessert recipes that meet certain criteria. They must be decadent-sounding, though not actually dangerous (I continue to hope that I’ll manage to follow Weight Watchers a little more faithfully). They must be different enough from the thousands of recipes I already have, in cookbooks and clipping files. If there’s a picture, it must make me want to lick the page. What all this translates into is a paltry haul of late. Seriously—we’re talking one recipe, for a flourless chocolate cake, which I tore out of the June issue Fitness. It calls for polenta—specifically NOT instant, which it says will produce a lumpy cake—and that turned out to be fairly difficult to find. Everybody and their mother sells quick-cooking polenta these days, even the little shops in the Italian section of Williamsburg. I’d just about given up when it occurred to me to stop looking for something marked polenta, and start looking for coarse-ground corn meal. Once I had that mini-epiphany, I found it in the very next store—Goya brand, of all things, in the Latin foods section.

The picture in the magazine is of a slice that’s very clearly from a round cake, but the instructions call for an 8 x 8 baking dish. I prefer the elegance of a slice rather than a chunk when it comes to cake, so I used my 9” springform pan. The capacity’s a little larger, which yielded a thinner cake than the picture (though with the same cooking time, surprisingly), but I didn’t mind. It’s wickedly delicious with a downright lusty texture—the polenta gives it a light, toothy heft—and much more chocolaty than I expected. Paired with my tart-sweet, brilliantly colored strawberry-rhubarb compote, it’s sophisticated enough to serve at a dinner party. Nobody would ever guess that it’s diet-licious.

Weight Watchers readers: 1/8 of the cake (a sizable portion) with a couple of tablespoons of compote is only 3 points!

Chocolate Polenta Cake
Serves 8

1 cup plus 2 T skim milk [I used 1%]
2 ½ T polenta (coarsely ground corn meal—not instant)
2/3 cup semisweet chocolate chips (about 4 oz)
1 T unsweetened applesauce
3 T sugar
2 eggs
4 egg whites
½ t baking powder

Heat oven to 350. Spray a 9" springform pan with cooking oil spray and set aside.

In a medium saucepan over high heat, bring milk to a boil, then whisk in polenta. Reduce heat and cook 3 to 5 minutes, stirring constantly, until thickened. Remove from heat and add chocolate chips, stirring well until they’re completely melted. Stir in applesauce and set aside.

In a bowl set over simmering water, whisk together sugar, eggs, and egg whites until warm. Remove from heat and beat on high until mixture is 6 to 8 times the original volume [mine never got that huge—it was more like 4 or 5 times].

Gently fold one-fifth of the egg mixture into the polenta-chocolate mixture. Sprinkle baking powder into the lightened polenta-chocolate mixture and gently combine. Slowly fold in remaining egg mixture, one-third at a time. Pour batter into the prepared springform pan and bake 25 to 30 minutes, until a cake tester inserted into the center comes out clean [mine took 27 minutes]. Let cool on a wire rack.

[The instructions don’t specify, but I assume this must be refrigerated if you’re not serving it immediately. I wrapped mine in plastic first.]

Strawberry-Rhubarb Compote
Serves 24

7 cups rhubarb, in 1” chunks
½ cup Splenda
¼ cup water
Zest and juice of ½ lemon
4 cups strawberries, quartered

In a large saucepan, combine rhubarb, Splenda, water, and lemon over high heat. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and cover. Simmer five minutes, then add strawberries. Simmer another five minutes. Done! How easy was that?

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News Flash

And I do mean news. Words to Eat By gets its first ink! Clement at a la Cuisine was kind enough to email me a scan of this article by Shawna Wagman, which appeared in today’s Globe and Mail. It’s Canadian, which means I’m officially better-known internationally than I am in my own country.

The article starts with Clement and his experience hosting Sugar High Friday, and then moves on to more general food blogging info. Since I’m pretty sure you won’t be able to read the scan, here’s the part about Words to Eat By (narcissistic, aren’t I?):

It’s no wonder that for some bloggers, the act of writing can become addictive, transforming every meal into an opportunity to entertain or impress.

“It has definitely permeated my life,” says Debbie Lastname, the Brooklyn-based scribe behind Words to Eat By. “In a weird way, it has become a second job.”

The former fiction writer started her food blog last October, about the same time as she returned to Weight Watchers as part of an ongoing battle against the scale. She hoped that the process of documenting what she ate would have a therapeutic effect. “I enjoy food tremendously, but I’m also a little afraid of it,” Debbie says. “I thought I’d learn more about myself—how I deal with food and what I think about food.”

After that, it pays homage to Clotilde at Chocolate & Zucchini, the mother of us all as far as I’m concerned (who’s coming to NYC next week, hooray!), and ends with a lovely couple of paragraphs about Jennifer, the Domestic Goddess. A sidebar lists five other food blogs. All in all, a very nice way to perk up a suddenly-rain-drenched Saturday.

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Suddenly Summer

Here in New York it went from being unseasonably cold (low 40s at night) to unseasonably, disgustingly, drippingly warm (high 80s) in the space of a week. That’s one sign of summer, for sure. But as far as I’m concerned, the one true indicator is the resurgence of my local farmer’s market. Every Saturday from 8AM to 3PM, year-round, there’s a small market at the bedraggled park a few blocks from my apartment. Last summer—my first summer living in Williamsburg—I went every week and brought home overflowing bags of gorgeous just-picked produce. But from October until late May/early June, the choices are pretty pathetic—a baker, a dairy, an orchard selling increasingly mealy cold-storage apples, and a farmer with nothing but potatoes and onions. As much as I believe in eating local, by December I’d pretty much stopped going. Just two weeks ago I swung by, hoping to find some asparagus or ramps or something, and the only new additions were some herbs. Sad.

But today, it was a whole different story.

As soon as I got close enough to see the stands, I knew summer had arrived. Three different farmers displayed fresh cut flowers. Tender leafy things were everywhere. The orchard had finally ditched the apples in favor of sweet, small strawberries and stalks of ruby rhubarb. The potato-and-onion farm now offered eight varieties of lettuce, seven herbs, radishes, and fresh garlic. And a smaller stand, which had disappeared entirely by late fall last year, had reappeared, brandishing red Swiss chard, baby spinach, kohlrabi, and still more lettuce. It was thrilling.

I had to temper my enthusiasm a little, though—in this heat, cooking has been the furthest thing from my mind, and I won’t be around to cook much this week. I didn’t want to overdo it. In the end I bought:

• three heads of lettuce: lolla rossa (the super-curly red stuff on the top left in the photo), green salad bowl (directly above it), and red salad bowl (draped over the strawberries)
• two quarts of strawberries
• two pounds of rhubarb
• one bunch of fresh garlic—those long green strands jutting into the top right corner of the picture are attached to the firm, not-quite-cloved roots

I’ve never cooked with rhubarb or fresh garlic before, so I’ll be experimenting over the next few days (separately, of course)—suggestions are welcome in the comments section!

Before I bought the garlic, I asked the farmer all about it. He told me to expect the bulb to be stronger than stored garlic, while the greens and the scapes (the seed pod, which shoots out of the top) are milder but still garlicky. At this point, the papery skin hasn’t developed yet, so no peeling is required. If I cut off the roots and stored them as I would more mature garlic, the paper-skinned cloves would develop, but I’m too curious about the flavor difference to do that. It was all I could do not to bite into a bulb on the way home! Instead, I’ll put the whole thing in the fridge and treat it as a fresh vegetable.

I must say, I’m glad summer had arrived. Maybe if we install the kitchen air conditioner this weekend, I’ll actually cook something.

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Chocolate Pizzelles

Before I met S, I’d never tasted a pizzelle, the delicate, anise-scented Italian waffle cookie. It just wasn’t in my Jewish-American food vernacular. But S’s family is, as we all know, Italian-American; when he started inviting me along to clan get-togethers in south Jersey, I learned all about the cookies, quickly. His Big Gram would bring several batches to every gathering—including one coffee can filled with the crispy snowflakes for S, and one for his older brother. Licorice has never been my thing so I approached them cautiously, but it didn’t take long for their lacy, light flavor to win me over. On the bus ride back up to New York, S and I would open the canister every few minutes and pull another pair out. By the time we’d get home, they’d be half gone.

At my bridal shower, Big Gram gave me a pizzelle iron. When I unwrapped the package she confessed to being uncertain she’d done the right thing—we hadn’t registered for it, and she’d never noticed me eating them—but I was thrilled. In fact, S and I had considered registering for one, but for some reason hadn’t bothered. The first time I went to make them, though, there was one problem: Big Gram hadn’t included her recipe, which both S and I assumed was an heirloom of sorts. S made a quick call, and returned with funny news: Big Gram didn’t write anything out because she uses the recipe in the instruction booklet!

We made old-fashioned pizzelles a couple of times, S and I, before I had to make a confession: I just don’t like licorice that much. It was one thing to eat pizzelles as a special treat from Big Gram, but it was another thing altogether to make them ourselves every week or two. The booklet had a recipe variation for pizzelle con cioccolate—using cocoa powder and a little more sugar, and leaving out the anise extract—that sounded interesting. S was game (who can turn down a new way to eat chocolate, after all?) so we tried it. They were wonderful, not too sweet, nicely chocolaty, and perfect with a cup of coffee. Over time I played with the recipe a little, to lighten it, and it tastes every bit as good as it did the first time I made them. Recently I picked up a simple wooden gadget at a kitchen supply store, and made a new treat: homemade chocolate ice cream cones!



Weight Watchers readers: each pizzelle is one point.

Chocolate Pizzelles
Makes about 45 cookies

5 large egg whites
1 large egg
1 cup minus 1 T. sugar [I use half sugar and half Splenda]
½ cup melted butter, cooled
1 ½ t. vanilla extract
1 ¾ cups all-purpose flour
2 t. baking powder
3 T. unsweetened cocoa [I use Dutch]

Beat egg whites, egg, sugar, and Splenda. Add cooled melted butter and vanilla extract. Sift flour, baking powder, and cocoa into bowl and stir to combine. Batter will be stiff enough to be dropped by spoon.

Plug in pizzelle iron, and when the ready light goes out (it’ll take about 5 minutes) spray both plates of the iron lightly with nonstick cooking spray. Pre-set a timer for 45 seconds [the original recipe says :30, but I like them a little more cooked]. Using two soup spoons, place about ½ tablespoon of batter slightly off-center (towards the back of the iron) on each grid pattern.



Close and lock the iron, and turn on the timer.



Remove the baked pizzelles with a spatula, and set on a wire rack to cool completely—if you stack them too soon, they’ll be soggy.



To make cones:



Remove one pizzelle from the iron and roll it around a cone mold while still warm. The other pizzelle will remain pliable until you are ready to remove it from the iron. It's pretty difficult to roll them tight enough that the bottom doesn't have a sizable hole, so I just drop a few chocolate chips in each one before spooning in the ice cream. Any excuse to use more chocolate...

Note: Be sure to store your pizzelles in an air-tight container. They really don’t like humidity, so in the summer they can go quite limp. I line a coffee can with plastic wrap, and then pull it over the top of the cookies for extra security.

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Digital Camera Blues

It looks like my digital camera died this morning. It's a Canon PowerShot A80, had it for about 18 months (so it's out of warranty). I made pizzelles this morning (I'll write that up later) and took some snaps to show you all, and when I turned the camera off the lens refused to retract. The little preview screen showed an error message: E18. A quick search online shows this to be a costly thing to fix, and apparently something that may continue to occur even after being repaired. Lots of complaints about it, in fact. Sigh.

So, anybody got a good digital camera to recommend? 4 megapixels, easy to use (I'm no pro), etc...

UPDATE: I just found a forum online in which a guy said he tapped his camera gently in the palm of his hand and it fixed the problem. I tried it, and what do you know, it worked! Hopefully my much-loved camera will continue to work and eventually die after a long, happy life.

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Pot Luck with Roasted Eggplant Spread

The other night I went to an after-work, all-girl pot luck dinner. It was all-girl because we met during a food writing course I took not too long ago, and the one guy who joined dropped out before the halfway point. Those of us who remained discovered that we really enjoyed each other’s company, so for our last class we decided to give in to our foodie nature and go out, to Stanton Social. We ate about a million different things—it’s that kind of place, a huge menu of plates meant for sharing—drank too much wine, and had a blast. At the end of the evening, the group became a little misty and nostalgic at the thought of never hanging out again, so we decided to schedule a pot luck dinner. Eight food-oriented women, each bringing her own specialty…

I brought:


Roasted eggplant spread, adapted from The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook, and a baguette so crusty my arm ached after slicing it.

Our gracious and thoughtful hostess, D, provided:


This gorgeous baked brie, topped with chopped pecans and brown sugar. It’s a good thing I don’t like cheese, because from the looks of this concoction I would definitely have eaten too much of it. And the aroma! D also made a beautiful fresh strawberry salsa, which featured another of my sworn edible enemies, cilantro. (In fact, we’d spent a good deal of time in class talking about cilantro. It turns out there’s a genetic factor to people’s reactions to it—one of my classmates is working on a feature about it. Apparently I inherited a gene that makes it taste like dishwater.)

M, our wickedly funny Aussie, baked a quiche from her mom’s recipe:


Yes, I know, quiche has cheese in it. But this was the most delicious, most un-cheesy quiche I’ve ever eaten. My ally in cheese-disgust, A, had the same response—she couldn’t stop raving. Really, it was more like a crusted frittata. This may have been the hit of the evening—we devoured it and wished there was more.

Next up, C’s contribution:



Stuffed mushrooms, made in D’s kitchen. They were filled with chopped stems, parsley, garlic, pecorino, and bread crumbs—the simplest preparation, and the most satisfying. I think I had four. C was starting a new job as a food publicist the next day, so I’m all the more impressed that she managed to cook something a la minute.

A, my fellow cheese-hater (and fellow publishing person), brought a spicy Thai dish:


Braised tofu and ground chicken, served over basmati rice. Yes, that’s more cilantro you see, but I successfully ate around it and really enjoyed the spicy tingle—and tofu is normally yet another of my dislikes (man, I’m a picky eater!).

G, the very stylish, very sharp baby of the group, made quite a tasty, robust casserole:


It’s an egg-and-tomato gratin, made with hard-boiled eggs, fresh tomatoes, and herbs. Sweetheart that she is, G left one end of the dish cheese-free in deference to me and A—you can just make out the solid red part at the top left.

Unfortunately, by the time J’s dessert was served I’d already put away my camera. It was intended to be a napoleon of sorts, made with layers of crisp, five-spiced phyllo and whipped cream flavored with mandarin oranges, but the cream deflated before J could assemble them. Instead, she arranged the phyllo pieces flat on a platter, and poured the pale-orange sauce over them. It was marvelous, a prime example of a kitchen disaster averted.

“But wait,” you say, “That’s only seven dishes. There are seven chicks in that picture, plus you, Debbie. What gives?” What gives is that our teacher, the one of us who’s actually making her living as a food writer, was on deadline, so she didn’t have a chance to cook. Her contribution was fresh, store-bought spanakopita, which in the procession of food we forgot to put out. It ended up being left as a hostess gift for D, which wasn’t a bad thing at all.

My eggplant spread was a big hit, but since I’d made a double-recipe there was some left over. I took it home and served it over pasta, with pasta cooking water and prepared pesto stirred in to make it saucy, then topped the whole thing with toasted pine nuts and grated parmesan cheese. It was pretty fab, I must admit. I think I’ll be roasting some more eggplant spread soon, just to eat it on pasta.




Roasted Eggplant Spread
Adapted from The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook
Serves 6 to 8

1 medium eggplant, peeled
2 red bell peppers, seeded
1 red onion, peeled
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 T. olive oil
1 ½ t. kosher salt
½ t. freshly ground black pepper
1 ½ T. tomato paste

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Spray a baking sheet with nonstick spray and set aside.

Cut the eggplant, bell pepper, and onion into 1-inch cubes. Toss them in a large bowl with the garlic, oil, salt, and pepper. Spread in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet and roast for 40-45 minutes, tossing once halfway through, until vegetables are lightly browned and soft. Cool slightly.

Place the vegetables in a food processor fitted with a steel blade, and the tomato paste, and pulse 3 or 4 times to blend. Taste for salt & pepper.

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Too Many Mushrooms?

I just came back from the store, and when I went to put away the package of crimini mushrooms I just bought, I discovered I already had an unopened package in there. Now I've got two whole packages of mushrooms. I likes me some funghi, but I've never had this many at once at my disposal. Quick, what are some mushroom-heavy meals I can make with them? It's got to be on the simple side, since I don't have too much time to cook these days...

Help!

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