For the past few weeks, I’ve been inching slowly (and sometimes, painfully) back into the robust workout routine that I observed before I got myself involved with all this culinary school business. These new miles of pounded pavement have been making me feel ravenous between meals, and I’ve been on the lookout for snacks that can satisfy, while being tasty, nutritious, and low in calories and fat.

Ironically, when I first encountered this healthy, nutritious snack, I was sitting down to a celebratory dinner of epic and caloric proportions at Blue Hill at Stone Barns, a restaurant/working farm/theme park for food dorks like me who are into sustainable, farm-to-table cuisine. Tuscan kale chips, artfully suspended above antique wooden blocks by a thin piece of wire, were the first of the parade of amuse bouche that we enjoyed that night. Everyone in our party was delighted by their simple beauty and surprised by how delicious they were. They were the perfect introduction to the flavor and feel of the restaurant.

You can imagine my excitement when, as I was rifling through old issues of Bon Appetit weeks later, I discovered the very same recipe we’d enjoyed at the restaurant. Happily, when it comes to my snacking criteria, these kale chips fit the bill on all counts. Their texture is delicate and crisp, they crumble between the teeth and then dissolve away on the tongue. They have an earthy, nutty flavor, that is well complimented with a sprinkle of salt and black pepper. I think I may even try making them with a bit of Spanish paprika for a little bit of smoky heat. They are fully of vitamins, and the negligible fat that they contain is the good kind.

Best of all, they are ridiculously easy to make. I’ve been bagging these up to take along with me as a mid-day snack, mindlessly nibbling on them while I answer emails, and pushing them on Brian when he whines about being hungry before dinner. I also fully intend to make a batch to stand up in tall glasses next to the cheese and finger foods the next time I entertain, because if these are fancy enough to serve in a classy joint like Blue Hill at Stone Barns, then surely they are good enough for my tiny apartment.

Tuscan Kale Chips
Adapted from Dan Barber’s recipe, courtesy of Bon Appetit, February 2009

I made a few adjustments from the original recipe: I found that they were less likely to have burnt spots if I rubbed the oil into the nooks and crannies and the outer edges on both sides of the kale. Also, after my first batch with salt sprinkled on them came out with visible salty spots, I decided to try sprinkling them with a salt solution instead. These measures add a few more minutes to the process, but they make the results more aesthetically pleasing. Feel free to skip them if you are in a hurry and/or don’t care as much what they look like- taste will not be effected. If bagging up to take along for a portable snack, be sure that there is air in the sealed bag to act as a cushion to prevent them from being crushed.

12 large Tuscan kale leaves, rinsed, dried, cut lengthwise in half, center ribs and stems removed
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon kosher salt
fresh ground black pepper, to taste

Preheat oven to 250°F. In a small saucepan, heat 1/2 cup water with the salt and stir to dissolve. Once the salt is completely dissolved, remove from heat and allow to cool. Toss kale with oil in large bowl and rub the leaves to make sure they are coated evenly. Sprinkle with pepper and the salt water mixture to taste, and shake off excess liquid. Arrange leaves in single layer on 2 large baking sheets. Bake until crisp, about 30 minutes for flat leaves and up to 33 minutes for wrinkled leaves. Transfer leaves to rack to cool.

When I was a kid, I was envious of those who were Jewish. It has nothing to do with my interest in the faith, the appeal of its strong community, or the preservation of very old traditions. Rather, it came down to simple mathematics; with eight being decidedly greater than one, I was convinced that Christmas-celebrators were being shortchanged days of celebration.

Now I’m grown up and about to marry a Jewish man, and through our courtship I’ve discovered something entirely different to envy about the chosen people – their delicious and comforting foods. It’s a stretch for me to choose, but if I had to pick my favorite from the mass of sumptuous kugels, brisket, noodle pudding, lox, and knish I’ve enjoyed, I’d still have to say that latkes (potato pancakes) are the dish that I look forward to more than any other.

This year, Brian’s family has exploded with craziness and we just couldn’t find a way for us all to get together for Hanukkah this year, so we decided to celebrate a little early on our own by making potato pancakes two ways – the traditional latke with sour cream and homemade apple puree, and a potato pancake dressed up with ingredients and spices reminiscent of potato dishes from our neighborhood Indian joints.

For both pancakes, I had two objectives in mind: a crispy crust on the outside, and mealy texture (as opposed to just mashed potatoes) within. With the help of a very hot cast iron skillet, and my mandolin slicer (using it to julienne the potatoes rather than just grating them into small, uneven shavings), both of these qualities were achieved.

We were delighted with the results of both, and each on our third pancake, had to remind ourselves that restraint is in order when eating a whole meal consisting of fried potatoes. I enjoyed alternating bites from each type of pancake, delighting in sweet/salty/creamy/crunchy contrast of the traditional pancake, and cleansing my palate a bit with the spicy and citrus flavor from the more contemporary model.

Latkes and Indian Spiced Potato Pancakes
Adapted from Epicurious, December 2005

Serve pancakes hot with applesauce and/or sour cream.

Indian Spiced Potato Pancakes

1/2 cup frozen peas
1 medium onion, peeled
4 large russet or Idaho potatoes (about 3 1/2 pounds), peeled
2 large eggs
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1 1/2 teaspoons ground turmeric
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cumin
2 tablespoons minced peeled fresh ginger
2 tablespoons minced fresh cilantro
6 tablespoons vegetable oil
6 tablespoons unsalted butter
Greek yogurt
1 lime

Preheat oven to 200°F. Place 2 nonstick baking sheets in oven.

In small saucepan, bring salted water to boil. Add peas and cook, uncovered, until heated through, about 2 to 3 minutes. Drain, then rinse in colander under cool, running water. Set aside in colander to drain completely.

Using a mandolin (set to 1/8th inch matchsticks), (or a box grater or a food processor fitted with grating disc) coarsely grate the potatoes and place in colander set in sink. Coarsely grate the onion using a box grater or a food processor fitted with grating disc , add to colander, and set aside to drain.

In large mixing bowl, lightly beat eggs. Whisk in flour, coriander, turmeric, and cumin. Mix in ginger, cilantro, and peas.

Press potatoes and onion to extract as much liquid as possible, then add to bowl. Season mixture with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Using wooden spoon or hands, mix well, but do not overwork. Add additional flour, a tablespoon at a time, if the mixture still has a pool of liquid on the bottom.

In heavy-bottomed, 12-inch skillet (cast iron is highly suggested) over moderately high heat, heat 1 tablespoon oil and 1 tablespoon butter until hot but not smoking. Drop 4 scant 1/4-cup portions of potato mixture into pan and flatten with spatula to form four 3-inch pancakes.

Fry until bottoms are golden-brown, 4 to 5 minutes, then turn over and fry until golden-brown and crisp, an additional 4 to 5 minutes. Transfer to paper towels to drain; season immediately with salt and pepper. Keep warm on baking sheets in oven while making remaining pancakes.

Combine 1 cup Greek yogurt with the juice of 1 lime and whisk to incorporate. Set aside for serving or store in an airtight container in the fridge.

Using paper towels, carefully wipe out pan. And 1 tablespoon oil and 1 tablespoon butter and fry 4 more pancakes. Repeat with remaining batter, wiping out pan and adding 1 tablespoon oil and 1 tablespoon butter before each batch.

Serve pancakes hot with lime yogurt and wedges of lime.

While I do my best to keep this space relatively free of my personal angst, today was really crappy, and I need to tell someone about it. It was the kind of day where I talk to my mother on the phone three times in the span of a few hours: one call to deal with some straightforward, wedding-related business, the second where she calls me back after we get cut off (bad cell reception up north) and I regress to levels of 11th grade petulance and take all of my frustrations out on her but don’t actually tell her why I’m acting out, and a third when I call back later to apologize. In short, it’s the kind of day for which comfort foods, such as gnocchi, were invented.

You see, I’ve been doing everything that I can since we returned from California to land a bread baking job with a reputable bakery to keep me working whenever I’m not in school. That was the point of going to school for bread first – so I could get a lot of bread work in while I continue my education in pastry. It’s a niche field and sometimes its a little tough to get a gig, what with the waiting for a slot to open up, but I never dreamed it would get to be so frustrating.

I’ve spent the last month working on getting hired by two of the top bakeries in NYC. I met with the chef of the first, a small place, and there will be a job eventually, but it’s going to take some time. I got impatient and started pursuing a job at the second place, which does a larger -scale production and has many more employees, including one of my pals from bread class. I interviewed, got scheduled for a trial run, only to have it be rescheduled a number of times. Then it was cancelled. A week went by before they got back in touch with me to come in for another interview.

That’s when I became a bit miffed, because while bread-making is complicated, those on the lowest rung (my rung) of the totem pole are not expected to be rocket scientists. All I want now is to get back into bread production, so I cranked out some resume copies and headed back over to the bakery, where I proceeded to wait for 45 minutes before my 4 minute interview with the man who runs the show (and who, by the way, was not particularly busy during that 45 minutes of waiting) took place.

It was an uncomfortable four minutes. First, the he told me I should pay him for the privilege of working there. He asked me questions like, “what do you like about baking?” Which forced me to produce a cooking reality show style answer that made me want to gag. Then he grilled me about my previous career in business, which didn’t really seem relevant in the context of the job I was after. The last thing he did, and I’m not sure which is more sad – his audacity or that I actually obliged – he told me to let him feel my muscles. And, not taking the time to absorb the utter inappropriateness of the request, I removed my jacket and produced the guns. He squeezed up and down, not just one, but both of my arms, from wrist to armpit. I felt icky for the rest of the day.

I know that you need a thick skin in this industry, and now I can’t tell if I’m being too sensitive, or what. The worst part is, I want to bake bread so badly that I’ll probably end up working for this creep for free if I have to, self-respect be damned. That’s what makes me really want to cry. I can take someone being cruel and demeaning me if my work is sub-par. But this four minute interrogation had nothing to do with my skills – my trial run had been cancelled. I was still digesting what had happened, and why, exactly, it was making me feel so crappy, when my mother called. Later that day, I found out Gourmet magazine is to be cancelled – how incredibly depressing.

Ugh, that was a lot of heavy unloading, right? I’m really, truely sorry about that, and I probably just drove away half the EVK fan base. I’m going to go to the kitchen right now to roll out some of the leftover gnocchi dough from our last dinner party and make myself a nice bowl of tender, cheesy, sweet potato love. If you’re going to drown your sorrows in food, make sure it’s a good one, and these will surely cure what ails you.

Sweet Potato Gnocchi with Sage Brown Butter
Adapted from Bon Appetit, December 2005

This is a very large recipe, designed for making plates and plates of gnocchi as an entree. It’s such a rich dish, I can’t imagine serving or eating a whole plate of it. I made it as a dinner party appetizer and each person was satisfied with just 8 small gnocchi. The brown butter with sage is really rich and delicious, the perfect accompaniment to the very strong sweet potato flavor. Be careful not to overwork the dough, just mix the flour enough to incorporate it, otherwise your gnocchi will be rubbery. I found it helpful to wrap the dough in plastic and refrigerate for an hour before dividing and rolling, it made the dough a lot easier to handle. Also, be warned, this dough sticks to parchment that is not heavily floured.

Serving size: 10-12 appetizer portions, or even more

2 1-pound red-skinned sweet potatoes (yams), rinsed, patted dry,
pierced all over with fork
1 12-ounce container fresh ricotta cheese, drained in sieve 2 hours
1
cup finely grated Parmesan cheese (about 3 ounces)
2 tablespoons (packed) golden brown sugar
2 teaspoons plus 2 tablespoons salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg
2 3/4 cups (about) all purpose flour
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter
6 tablespoons chopped fresh sage plus whole leaves for garnish

Line large baking sheet with parchment paper. Place sweet potatoes on
plate; microwave on high until tender, about 5 minutes per side. Cut
in half and cool. Scrape sweet potato flesh into medium bowl and mash;
transfer 3 cups to large bowl. Add ricotta cheese; blend well. Add
Parmesan cheese, brown sugar, 2 teaspoons salt, and nutmeg; mash to
blend. Mix in flour, about 1/2 cup at a time, until soft dough forms.

Turn dough out onto floured surface; divide into 6 equal pieces (you can also choose to wrap in plastic and refrigerate for at least an hour at this point).
Rolling between palms and floured work surface, form each piece into
20-inch-long rope (about 1 inch in diameter), sprinkling with flour as
needed if sticky. Cut each rope into 20 pieces. Roll each piece over
tines of fork to indent. Transfer to baking sheet.

Bring large pot of water to boil; add 2 tablespoons salt and return to
boil. Working in batches, boil gnocchi until tender, 5 to 6 minutes.
Transfer gnocchi to clean rimmed baking sheet. Cool completely. (Can
be made 4 hours ahead. Let stand at room temperature.)

Preheat oven to 300°F. Melt butter in heavy large saucepan over
medium-high heat. Cook until butter solids are brown and have toasty
aroma, swirling pan occasionally, about 5 minutes.

Add chopped sage (mixture will bubble up). Turn off heat. Season sage
butter generously with salt and pepper.

Transfer half of sage butter to large skillet set over medium-high
heat. Add half of gnocchi. Sauté until gnocchi are heated through,
about 6 minutes. Empty skillet onto rimmed baking sheet; place in oven
to keep warm. Repeat with remaining sage butter and gnocchi.

Divide gnocchi and sauce among shallow bowls. Garnish with sage leaves.

Shorter days and chilly nights be damned, this year I’m just not feeling ready to say goodbye to summer yet. I’m still buying the last ears of corn from the market, no matter how anemic. And I’ll continue buying tomatoes too, even the ugliest, most bruised ones, if it means that I can eat fresh tomatoes for one more meal as we ease into a winter filled with those lackluster replacements we call “hot house” or “canned tomatoes”.

This works out well for me, because corn and tomatoes are two foods that  are so versatile that there’s no need for a lot of kitchen time and complex recipes, something I just don’t have a lot of these days. I’ve started the second leg of my culinary school career, and for the next nine months, I’ll be spending many of my nights at the French Culinary Institute, learning what I’ll need to become a pastry chef.

I feel like I’ve dropped off the face of the earth since I started school again, and I realized that I haven’t mentioned a thing about how its going. I hate to admit it, but it’s been difficult adjusting this time around, and it has nothing to do with the cooking school part -I’ve got that down.

Thanks to my summer spent in the bread kitchen at the FCI, I’m fully acclimated to the uniform (complete with the ridiculously impractical, hard-to-tie neckerchief), the culture of brevity (YES CHEF! YES CHEF! YES CHEF!), the hard work, the constant hustle, and demand for a focused, I’m-working-but-I’m-also-listening-to-soak-up-every-single-word-that-chef-is-saying kind of discipline.

On my first day of class, I was prepared for all of that, and it’s like I’d never left. I tucked all of my hair up under my hat and pressed my jacket so the chefs would not be able to scold me. I paid attention to demos and lectures and assembled all my mis en plas before I began a task. The first four classes have been like a dream with all of the cool new things I have learned.

The one part that’s been a little hard for me this time around is that I am the old lady in the class. My classmates look at me like I’m an alien, and I think they’re wondering who brought their mom to school. And when I look at them I try not to think about how the middle school students I taught five years ago are now older than the majority of these youths in my class.
In my spin through the bread program, where the youngest person in the class had at least graduated from college, I remember thinking how cool it was that cooking school united such a hodgepodge of people, with ages spanning from 20 to 50. Age meant nothing at all, status was determined by one’s ability hang with the work. I really enjoyed the people I worked with while I was there, because even the youngest person was really passionate about food. We’d geek out talking about food and cooking every second that we were allowed to talk. It was exactly what I expected from culinary school, a group of people as passionate, motivated, and unapologetically dorky as I am.

That’s just not the experience I’m having this time around. My eighteen-year-old partner has a great work ethic and a lot of heart and hustle, but by virtue of our difference in age, I just don’t see us bonding over long conversations about restaurants we love. It’s a small thing that I’ll definitely get over as we move from tarts and cookies to choux and more complicated techniques in the coming months, but for now it’s making me a bit nostalgic for summer.

Perhaps that is why I’m refusing to let go of summer food and embrace the bounty of fall.

Roasted Tomatillo Salsa and Roasted Sweet Corn Salsa

I selected these recipes based on what I had in the fridge and they rely heavily on my personal taste. When you try them out, taste as you go to make sure that you making them to suit your palete – if you want more spice you may want to use hotter peppers, for example. The tomatillo salsa is spicy and even a little bitter, while the roasted corn salsa is very sweet – Brian called it “Italian salsa” because the roasted tomatoes, corn, and basil bring a sweetness that most people would not expect from a salsa. I added smoked pepper hot sauce to give it a little heat and I think the smoky flavor works well with all that sweetness.

Roasted Tomatillo Salsa
Adapted from Gourmet, November 2009

Serves 4-6 people as an appetizer or snack

• 1 1/2 pounds fresh tomatillos or 3 (11-ounce) cans tomatillos
• 3 fresh jalapeno peppers
• 3 garlic cloves, unpeeled
• 1/2 cup fresh cilantro
• 1 large onion, coarsely chopped
• 2 teaspoons coarse salt

Preheat broiler.

If using fresh tomatillos, remove husks and rinse under warm water to remove stickiness. If using canned tomatillos, drain and measure out 2 cups. Broil chiles, garlic, and fresh tomatillos (do not broil canned) on rack of a broiler pan 1 to 2 inches from heat, turning once, until tomatillos are softened and slightly charred, about 7 minutes.

Peel garlic and pull off tops of chiles. Purée all ingredients in a blender.

Roasted Sweet Corn Salsa

Serves 4-6 people as an appetizer or snack

3 Beefsteak tomatoes, cut into large pieces and seeded
1 large onion, cut into quarters
3 ears of corn, with the kernels removed from the cob
1/2 cup fresh basil, finely chopped
oilve oil
1 clove of garlic
Juice of 1 lime
salt and pepper, to taste
smoked pepper hot sauce, to taste

Set the oven to 350 degrees and place the tomatoes and the garlic clove in a pan and drizzle olive oil over them, then coat them with the oil using your fingers. Put the tomatoes and garlic in the oven to roast for 15 – 20 minutes. The tomatoes will have begun to caramelize and some of the water should cook off. Once the tomatoes have started to roast, remove the garlic clove and turn the oven to broil, coat the corn and onions in olive oil and add them to the pan with the tomatoes and cook a few inches from the heat under the broiler for 5-7 minutes, until the corn and onions char. Remove the pan from the oven and allow it to cool.

Chop the tomatoes, garlic, and onions into small pieces and stir together with the roasted corn. lime juice and basil. Add salt, pepper, and hot sauce to taste. Serve with tortillas.

Besides downloading pictures, I spent a lot of our first week back in the city running around town checking out event spaces where Brian and I might end our engagement with celebration. We’ve enjoyed a blissful summer procrastinating on the wedding nonsense, but my self-imposed deadline for finding a place to seal the deal is fast approaching (next weekend!), so I buckled down and pounded a lot of pavement.

It was soooo much the opposite of our tranquil week in Sonoma, that I think I was experiencing symptoms of withdrawal, what with sudden spike in stress and sense of urgency, excess of rude, pushy people, and two days where it became necessary to carry an umbrella. I tried to carry a little bit of California calm with me as I met with planners and sales people in space after space that just didn’t feel like us.

Perhaps that is because everything we saw out there was so freaking gorgeous. The photos for this post were all taken by my other half on his amazing new camera (a Nikon D700). I’ve progressed in taking close up shots, but Brian is the real star with landscapes and such, and I wanted to be sure that you got to see the trip through his eyes too.

I think that the picture at the top of the post gives you an idea of how breathtaking the Northern coast of California can be, but to stand at the edge of a cliff and look down into the abyss of rock with the fog rolling in and out around you is just stirring.

And hiking through a forest of redwoods so tall and wide that they are impossible to photograph in entirety is a peaceful and humbling experience.

I’ve gravitated towards cities all of my adult life, partially because I really hate driving and all the hassles that come with car ownership, but I am really missing late afternoon drives on the roads that wind through the fields planted with grapevines, planted in straight lines as far as the eye can see.

Even as I heap love and admiration upon California, I have to stay that New York City’s still my number 1, with all of the exciting, brand-spanking new things that are just getting started for me this fall. For one thing, I’m back in school at the French Culinary Institute, taking my first steps toward becoming a pastry chef. And as if that weren’t exciting enough, this week I’ll also be auditioning to bake bread at the best bakery in the entire city, with the hopes that my skills will be enough to land me a job there. Exciting, no? And without further ado, here are the recipes from the last post that I promised.

Roasted Fennel Bruschetta

2 bulbs of fresh fennel

4 oz Camembert cheese (or other soft, mild cheese with a rind)

4 cloves of fresh garlic

2 tablespoons olive oil

3 tablespoons fresh thyme, picked from the stems and chopped

baguette, or other crusty bread, cut in halves, then slices and toasted

kosher salt and ground black pepper, to taste

Set the oven to 375 degrees. Remove the green stems from the fennel so you are left with just the bulbs. slice the bulbs into pieces that are approximately 1/8 of an inch thick, taking care to keep them uniform so they cook evenly.  Toss the fennel with olive oil, coating it completely, hen toss it with the thyme, salt, and pepper. Place the fennel on a pan. Coat the cloves of garlic in olive oil with the skin still on and place them on the pan. Roast the fennel and garlic for approximately 20 minutes (I really don’t trust the oven in the tree house, so be sure to keep an eye on it), or until the garlic is soft and can be easily squeezed out of it’s skin and the fennel is soft and golden.

Slice the cheese into 1/8 inch thick slices with the rind still on, and place the slices on the toasted bread. squeeze the roasted garlic out of it’s skin and distribute the garlic mush evenly over the cheese. Top with the roasted fennel and serve immediately.

Outstanding California Guacamole

This recipe is a twist on the standard recipe for guac. Brian started putting banana in the guacamole to heighten the sweetness, but you really don’t taste the banana, you just get sweeter avocado flavor. It has a nice, sweet, salty, tangy, creamy thing going on. Feel free to adjust ingredients to your taste.

Serves 2

1 Haas avocado

1/2 banana (soft, but not too brown)

1/2 cup cilantro

1 lime

1/2 large beefsteak tomato, seeded and diced

1/4 red onion, diced

1 teaspoon minced roasted garlic

cayenne pepper, to taste

kosher salt and ground black pepper, to taste

In a medium sized bowl, combine the banana, avocado, and the juice of the lime and mash it with a fork until it is creamy and the avocado and banana are mixed together well. Add the cilantro, tomato, onion, and garlic, and stir until combined. Add cayenne, salt, and pepper to taste and serve immediately.

Sungold Tomato and Lemon Cucumber Salsa

We had never seen lemon cucumbers at the markets in New York, so we were excited to try them. the are shaped more like a ball than a rod, like the cukes we are used to. They have a great, fresh flavor that is very similar to that of a green cucumber, but they are not as juicy inside and you do not need to peel them. If you don’t have access to them, just substitute with green, but don’t forget to peel and remove the seeds.

serves 2 hungry people, 4 snackers

1/2 cup finely chopped fresh basil

1 lemon

1 fresh green chile pepper, finely minced (or less, depending on your heat taste)

3 lemon cucumbers, diced (or two large green cucumbers, seeded, peeled and diced)

1/2 pint sungold tomatoes, halved

2 small green tomatoes, diced

1/4 cup yellow onion, chopped

1/2 clove fresh garlic, finely minced

2 tablespoons olive oil

kosher salt

fresh ground black pepper

In a large bowl, combine the cucumbers, chile, tomatoes, garlic, and onion. Add the zest of the lemon, juice of the lemon, basil, and olive oil. Toss together to mix the ingredients and coat the everything in the lemon and olive oil. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Eat with tortilla chips or use as a condiment. Store in a covered container in the fridge for up to two days.

Here’s what I’m up against. Each morning, I roll into class in my clean, pressed cooking uniform. I put down my knife roll, open up my binder of baker’s formulas, and I look over at a massive stainless steel shelving unit along one end of the wall. It’s got rows and rows of shelves spanning from floor to ceiling, and in the morning, it is completely empty.





It is the job of the twelve people in my class to get down to the business of filling those shelves until they overflow, by no later than 3 PM, and that is what we do. We work in teams, doing our part to scale and mix, to fold and monitor, shape, score and bake. Although the formulas are scaled up from the proportions we were making as home bakers before we got ourselves into this venture, we still care every bit as much about each and every loaf, the very same way that home bakers care for a loaf that they are baking. Our goal, making the end result as delicious and as beautiful as we possibly can, is not diminished as we scale up to professional quantities.





That is why I am in this predicament. When I get to class, I tell myself that I will not take bread home at the end. Then, three o’clock rolls around, and I look over at the shelving unit, overflowing with the beautiful bread that we’ve worked so hard to make. It’s beautiful. It looks out at us as we wipe sweat and flour from our brows, with sad little bread faces. It feels wrong not to take it, and so I fill my flour sack and go on my way.





It used to be that my freezer had balance; some veggies, some meats, a pie crust or two. Today, open my freezer and out falls the semolina bread from week three, with the olive bread in tow. Try to store anything else, I dare you, without removing the massive loaf of pain de mie from week 1, just waiting for the day when I host a massive brunch, at which point it will become French toast. Houston, I’ve become the “bread lady”. It’s time for us to dig out and use up what’s been stored. This ciabatta came first.





Consider this less a recipe and more of a jumping off point for your own experimentation. Bruschetta starts with bread that you love, grilled. If you pair it with flavors that you enjoy together, you simply can’t go wrong. Peaches are in season, but I was disappointed by how these performed. They were a little too hard, but I expected the grill to magically soften them into drippy, peachy mush, which I had envisioned draping over the toasted bread slathered with goat cheese. They stayed firmer than I imagined they would, but were still lovely. With the sweet, smoky, and savory all going on, these can star on either the dinner or the dessert menu. Or, if you’re looking to go the more traditional route with tomato season just around the corner, click here.

Grilled Peach Bruschetta

serves 4 as appetizer or dessert

When I made this, I used ciabatta from class, but you can find ciabatta in most bakeries and markets. French bread or another crusty bread would also work fine. I made a balsamic vinegar reduction for drizzling (which just means I simmered it in a small pan to get rid of some of the excess water to make the vinegar thicker), but it is not necessary to do so – totally your call. Try to pick peaches that are ripe enough so that if you were to bite into one, juice would run down your chin. Ideally, yours will be slightly more orange inside than mine are here. No grill? No problem. Toast the bread, roast the fruit in the oven, and you are in business.

two peaches, cut into wedges

1 loaf of ciabatta (or more if the loaf is small), cut in half and then into pieces

4 oz. fresh goat cheese

drizzle of olive oil

drizzle of honey

drizzle of balsamic vinegar

Place the peach wedges on skewers, brush with olive oil, and cook on the grill as slowly as possible, avoiding direct contact with the flames (you may notice that I was not entirely successful at that part from the photos). Brush the ciabatta with olive oil and place the oiled sides down on the grill, also away from direct flames. Toast to desired darkness, then remove.

Spread goat cheese on the toasted ciabatta. When the peaches are soft and dripping juices with the skins lightly charred on the edges, place the peaches on the bread with goat cheese. Drizzle balsamic vinegar and honey over the tops and serve immediately.

I can stop my whining about the lackluster fare at the markets – spring has finally arrived, and at long last, the farmers are toting something fresh and new in the backs of those huge trucks. There’s lettuce and baby greens, ramps, asparagus, the first teeny-tiny strawberries, and so much more! And the best part: once the floodgates open, the produce just keeps getting better and better each week as the balmy weeks of summer unfold.

After all of the excitement of our extended weekend, Brian and I took it easy on Sunday and enjoyed a stroll in one of the smaller markets in the East Village. I have tons of love for the chaotic Union Square market, but with the construction on the park going on, it’s been a bit claustrophobic for me. Luckily, there are markets all over, happening at different times of the week, you need only chose the closest to your home or office, using this amazing map.

We ended up checking out the market at the Stuyvesant Town oval, since it’s really close to the apartment, and never seems to be crowded. I was psyched to discover that there were gorgeous bulbs of spring garlic (aka, green garlic) and even some tomatoes (hydro grown, so not the real deal, but an improvement over supermarkets).

And just like that, our dinner was born.

My favorite thing about the markets of June – November, other than the quality of the produce, is that they provide us with the opportunity to eat a menu dictated largely by nature. During these times, it becomes so freaking simple to pick up a ton of whatever is in season and work backwards from there, dreaming up (or researching) the best ways to use each week’s haul.

Sometimes, we have a lot of fun finding elaborate ways to use the fruits and vegetables, other times, a simple brush with olive oil and a sprinkle of salt and pepper is all we need to create a satisfying meal.

This bruschetta recipe falls sort of in-between. It’s very simple, and the mild, juicy spring garlic gives the prefect garlic flavor, without overwhelming you with bite. We grilled our bread, but you needn’t be as fancy, toasting under the broiler or even in the toaster oven will do. Be sure to only add salt right before you are ready to eat to avoid drawing the liquid out of the tomatoes. It’s the perfect accompaniment to other grilled veggies, or a crowd-pleasing starter at any BBQ.

Spring Garlic and Tomato Bruschetta Recipe

Serves 3-4 people

4-5 tomatoes on the vine

1 bulb spring garlic, chopped finely

1 large handful of fresh basil, chopped

1 tablespoon olive oil

sea salt or kosher salt

fresh ground black pepper

1/2 loaf baguette, cut into 3/4 inch thick rounds

Combine chopped tomatoes, spring garlic, and fresh basil in a bowl, gently mix, and refrigerate for at least two hours (no more than to allow the flavors to meld.

When you are ready to serve, remove tomatoes from the fridge and pour off some of the excess liquid, so the mixture is not too soupy but also not bone dry. Prepare your grill or turn on the broiler of your oven. If grilling, place the bread rounds on the grill and toast them on both sides, being careful not to burn them. If using the oven do the same, with the bread up close to the top of the broiler.

Arrange bread rounds on a plate. top each one with a few tablespoons of the tomato mixture, and allow a little of the juices to seep into the toasted bread. Sprinkle with salt and fresh ground pepper to taste. Drizzle with olive oil and serve immediately.

Summertime cooking can be so beautifully simple.

How perfect that the seasons that beckon us to stay outside and play until after dark are the same ones that give us my favorite fruits and veggies, that require almost no preparation time or effort, allowing us to run that extra mile, extend happy hour, or take the long way home.

Artichokes are my favorite of all the warm weather foods that fall in this category.

Last night I picked up these globe artichokes, and it was just a matter of trimming them and steaming in a bath of water and a little dry white wine (optional)…

…before we were face first and elbow deep in the business of pure, unadulterated artichoke enjoyment.

I personally like to scrape the tender parts loose from the underside of each leaf using my teeth, saving the meaty hearts for last. There are few other foods that you can devour with such gusto, within the bounds of decorum. 

How to Cook Artichokes
The way my Mom taught me long ago 

1. Trim the stem and top each approximately 1 inch.

2. Steam the artichokes in a pot, with the flowers facing down and the stems facing up on high heat with about 2 inches of liquid (water, water and wine solution, or broth all work) for about 30 minutes, until the stems are tender and easily pierced with a fork.

3. Eat, one petal at a time (squeezes of lemon or a sprinkle of balsamic vinegar are optional), by pulling the petal through slightly clenched teeth to scrape off the tender “meat”. When you get to the heart, scoop out the fuzz with a spoon and cut off and leftover stem and enjoy!

I can only spare a minute today, so I’ll stick to the facts:

Fact #1: The only thing better than fried anything else is fried goat cheese.

Fact #2: The only thing better than fried goat cheese is fried goat cheese with caramelized shallots and a drizzle of honey.

Fact #3: Crispy outside, creamy, oozing center

Fact #4: Sweet, savory

Fact #6: Dinner party guests think you are a god(dess)

Goat Cheese Croquettes
Inspired by tapas restaurants in the East Village

1 4 oz log of fresh goat cheese, frozen

1 egg, beaten

1/2 cup panko (Japanese bread crumbs)

1 medium shallot, sliced into thin rounds

1/4 cup honey

olive or grapeseed oil

Makes 4

Warm 2 tablespoons of oil over medium heat. Slice the shallot across the equator into thin slices, and separate out each ring. When the oil shimmers, place the shallots in the hot oil and fry until they are brown and slightly burnt, stirring occasionally. Remove from the pan with thongs and allow excess oil to drain off on a paper towel.

Cover the bottom 1/8 inch of a large saute pan with oil and place over medium heat. Remove the goat cheese from the freezer and cut into four equal rounds (each weighing 1 oz). When the oil shimmers, dredge each round of goat cheese in the egg and then in the panko, ensuring that the round is covered on all sides.

Immediately place the rounds into the hot oil and allow them to fry for about 2 minutes, or until you notice the cheese in the middle of the rounds bulging out slightly. Carefully turn the rounds using a pair of thongs or a spatula (or both), do not to splash the hot oil. Allow the rounds to cook for another 2 minutes and then remove from pan. Allow excess oil to drain off on a paper towel.

Drizzle a bit of honey on the bottom of four small plates and top each with shallots and a goat cheese round. Drizzle a bit of additional honey over the top. Serve immediately.

How appropo, a green hummus posted, today of all days. And while I had not planned on posting something so strikingly green for St. Patty’s Day, the act of posting something green was calculated and completely deliberate. After madeleines and cake, let’s pause to cleanse our paletes, shall we?

 I first tried edamame hummus at Rice, my favorite lunch spot in Dumbo. Their version is less homogenous, with visible chunks of edamame and little pools of creamy tahini, and I think that their version might also have chickpeas in it. They serve it in tiny dishes with delightful puffed rice crackers.

My version is creamy, with less tahini and a more intense lemon flavor. By the way, this is probably obvious to everyone but me, but head to the peanut butter isle when you are looking for tahini. The Union Square Whole Foods had about 8 varieties, but I’ve always been happy with Joyva brand, which has a nice, toasted flavor and a thicker consistency.

One of the lemons I used was a Meyer lemon, which was accidental but turned out to be a good choice, providing lemony flavor without making the hummus overly tart. 

I’d be remiss if I did not mention that I prepared this as an appetizer for a small dinner party I threw last Saturday, for people who are some of EastVillageKitchen.com’s biggest fans. We had a lot of fun, but that’s all I’m going to say for now, because the party produced fodder for several posts and would it be any fun if I discussed it in detail all in this first one?

Edamame Hummus

1 bag frozen, shelled edamame (approximately 3 cups)

3 tablespoons tahini

1 Meyer lemon 

1 lemon (or 2 if mayer lemons are not in season)

1 tablespoon kosher salt, plus more more for boiling

1/2 cup water (or more, at your discretion)

1/4 cup olive oil

Bring 4 quarts of salted water to a boil in a large, covered pot. Add frozen edamame and boil for 5 minutes. Remove from heat and drain. Allow them to cool for 10 minutes.

Place edamame, tahini, water, and olive oil in a food processor fitted with a steel blade. Quarter the lemons and squeeze them through a strainer into the food processor. Blend the ingredients in the food processor for 1 minute. Stop and scrape down the sides, and check consistency. If you prefer a thinner hummus, add additional water and add salt to taste. Blend for another 2 minutes until hummus is very smooth and you are not able to see any chunks.

Serve immediately or refrigerate in a covered container for up to two days before serving.