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October 31, 2008

Doing What I Said I'd Do: Rustic Plum Tart

plum_tart_02.jpgNow how's this for follow-through: I said I would bake a plum tart, and I did. I don't always roll like that. I have, for instance, said I would go to Brussels to visit one of my favorite people on earth, or write a book (ahem), or brutally edit my overstuffed closet. All of these things I want to do, and yet none of them have happened just yet. But the tart? The tart I totally accomplished. Checkmate.

And just in the nick of time, too. I baked this tart two weekends ago with the very last of the summer plums and now, sadly, I think the plums have left the building. We don't need to hold a mourning party or anything---there are pomegranates and apples and pears to fête. But I'm glad summer stone fruit and I had one last hurrah. And really, I think this might have been my favorite thing about October.

No, not the plums, or the tart, really. But the fact that I did what I set out to do. I bought a little notebook and drew an illustration of October at the first of the month. Before that evening, wrapped up in a scratchy plaid blanket, I can't remember the last time I just picked up a pen and made it skitter across the page in the shape of a pumpkin. It felt like free-form fun, something in which I believe the American diet is epically deficient. You know the way setting up and attempting a headstand in yoga can feel? Like play? That's what it was like. And under my drawing, I wrote a list for the month of fun projects I really wanted to get to in the next 31 days. I got such satisfaction out of seeing that page with its silly illustration and then my little check marks next to each item of fun. I'm already thinking about what's on the November list.

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Rustic Plum Tart with Cornmeal Crust
adapted from Everyday Food
Serves 6

I struggled with this dough a little. I'm always hesitant to add more water than the recipe stipulates, but I always seem to need it. That point withstanding, however, this was delicious. It felt like a wholesome dessert, which is just fine in my book.

for the crust
1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour, plus more for work surface
1/4 cup fine yellow cornmeal
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup (1 stick) cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

for the filling
1 pound red plums, quartered, pitted, and sliced 1/4 inch thick
1/4 cup sugar
1teaspoon all-purpose flour
1 large egg yolk, mixed with 1 teaspoon water (egg wash)

First, the crust: In a food processor, pulse flour, cornmeal, sugar, and salt several times to combine. Add butter and pulse until mixture resembles coarse meal, with a few pea-size pieces remaining. Add 2 tablespoons ice water; pulse until dough is crumbly but holds together when squeezed. (If needed, add up to 2 tablespoons more ice water, 1 tablespoon at a time. Do not be afraid to add more, like I was, though.)

Turn dough out onto a floured work surface, and knead just a couple times. Shape dough into a disk, wrap it in plastic, and refrigerate at least 1 hour.

After dough has chilled, lightly flour your work surface,and the top of dough. Roll dough out into a circle, about 1/4 inch thick, and transfer to a baking sheet.

Preheat oven to 400 F degrees. In a large bowl, toss together plums, sugar, and flour. Arrange plum mixture in center of prepared crust, leaving a 2-inch border all around and letting the fruit mound abundantly in the center. Fold up the border over the fruit in a pleated pattern, and brush dough with egg wash.

Bake tart until crust is golden-brown and filling is bubbling, about 45 minutes. Slice and serve (with crème frâiche if you have it)!

October 28, 2008

Weekend Cooking: Farro Risotto with Pears

farro_risotto.jpg I had a cooking breakthrough a couple week's ago, right about when I made the best tart ever. I realized there are two kinds of cooking, one utilitarian and the other more leisurely, and unfortunately, I was only doing one of them.

Weeknight cooking I'm all too familiar with. It involves me arriving home in sweaty gym clothes, flailing around the kitchen, often a little grumpy and stressed, manically trying to create something to eat before the dum-dum starting bell of Law & Order.

Weekend cooking is baking something. It's letting something simmer and humming while I chop. It's relaxed, experimental, and, you don't need me to tell you, way more fun. But sometimes by the time the weekend rolls around you've had enough of washing the dishes and stirring things yourself. You just want to be served. You want someone to set a plate before you, pour the wine, and take it all away when you're done. And this is why I spend a startling chunk of money in restaurants.

But when I started cooking on Saturday night a few week's ago, I remembered exactly what it is I love about cooking. I love the expanse of time without a hard deadline in sight. I like trying those recipes that have been clipped and sitting idly in notebooks for years. I like chopping and letting my mind wander, my curiosity and creativity percolate, and later, sitting with my beau at our round white table and having a dinner party for two.

Farro Risotto with Pears
Serves 4

When I was invited to a fancy luncheon hosted by Grana Padano with the promise that Lidia Bastianich herself would be in attendance, I couldn't rsvp fast enough. Lidia was earthy, warm, and relaxed, just like she is on her show, and the risotto served was a total showstopper. When she came over and put her hand on the back of my chair and asked if I was enjoying myself (um, yes!), I told her I was a total convert to making risotto with farro. And I know it might sound crazy to say, but I think I like grana padano more than parmigiano reggiano. It has a sweetness that goes really beautifully with the pears in this risotto.

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon butter
2-3 small shallots, minced (about 1/3 cup)
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 1/2 cup farro
5 cups chicken stock
1 pear, peeled and minced
1/2 cup grana padano

In a medium saucepan, bring chicken stock to a gentle simmer. Meanwhile, in a wide pan with straight sides, combine olive oil and butter over moderate heat. When butter has melted, add shallots and garlic and cook until translucent and fragrant, about 3-5 minutes. Add farro and stir to make sure each grain is coated with butter and oil.

Ladle in a cup of hot broth and cook, stirring continuously, until the broth is absorbed. Continue this pattern of ladling and cooking for about 20 minutes. At that point, stir in the pear and continue to cook, ladling in broth and stirring, for another 10-15 minutes until farro is tender and risotto is creamy. Stir in grana padano and serve right away.

October 24, 2008

7 Fall Weekend Ideas

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pick your own apples, and while you're at it....


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très chère but très cute jacket by Built by Wendy

...wear plaid!

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watch the very clever, mind-bogglingly chic Mrs Bradley Mysteries (love her!)


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Could you guess this is one of Martha's Good Things?

make a jack-o'-lantern that never rots...


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Super amazing nightmare inducing jack-o'-lantern by pixability

...or one that does.

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photo via ming chai

take a bike ride (or a walk) and find new paths

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photo via dogged knits

enjoy apple cider, and if you are very lucky, an apple cider donut.

happy weekend, everyone! what delicious fall things will you be doing?


October 22, 2008

The Hunt for Personalized Note Cards

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I doubt I need to tell you I'm a fan of the old-fashioned charm of letter writing. On a nearly daily basis, I find myself wanting to slip a little note in a mailbox that says: god, I miss you or I'm sorry I stood you up//haven't returned your phone call/spilled wine at your party or cheer up, little one, things will be okay or holy hell, congratulations! or thank you so much for being in my corner or I hope your sniffles have passed. I end up saying a lot of these things via email (and sometimes, terribly, not at all, even though I think them something fierce), but sometimes that wonderfully convenient and instantaneous form of communication doesn't quite get the point across in the fashion I'd like.

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When I was recently having a hard go of it, EB sent me a card enclosed with a Depression-era (fitting!) recipe from her granddad. She certainly didn't have to, and it was maybe even a bit of a pain to dig up the stamp and print out the recipe. But the card made me grin, the old-fashioned recipe thrilled me, and I went from moping to feeling cared about pretty much instantly. An email, I doubt, could have imparted such glee.

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I know what sort of woman I want to be: I want to be a lady who sends notes. Spanning the distance between the life you envision for yourself and the life you actually live is often just a matter of follow-through. In other words, I need to order myself some pretty note cards and a roll of stamps. Because the times I got gold shoes in the mail from my best friend or someone thoughtfully sent me a book about redheads? It was a great reminder that we are so much in the thoughts of those who aren't always at our sides. And that's the best.

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If you know of some other great sellers on etsy who do pretty, affordable, custom paper work, please don't keep the secret to yourself -- share in the comments!

October 17, 2008

Farmer's Market Lasagna

lasagna_02.jpgDeep August could certainly be one's favorite time at the farmer's market, what with its lusty, sweltering heat, and overabundance of tomatoes so ripe, any moment they will split their own skin. Everyone crowds under the white tented stalls to find respite from the relentless sun, bumping into each other in their white sleeveless tops, and it is so hot that all you really want to do is grab a leaf of lettuce and be done with it.

My favorite time at the market though, is this time right now. There are still late summer plums, tomatoes, and corn, maybe a bag of basil here and there, but the coolness in the air makes you want to actually cook whatever you pick up rather than just slicing and assembling. You find yourself stooping to pick up a mini pumpkin or two, some acorn squash, and a peck of honeycrisp apples. You want to turn on the stove, maybe even the oven.

Comfort foods have been calling out to me since I first had to slip my arms into jacket sleeves this September. What better way to spend a Saturday with no pressing obligations than to head to the farmer's market and then a little Italian shop to pick up all the fixings for a homemade lasagna. It may be hard to convince you since lasagna has a certain reputation, but unlike some other lasagnas I've run into, this one tasted light and subtle, not ooey, gooey, cheesy. This is such a great thing to eat on a Saturday night at home with a big glass (or two) of red wine. I know I've said this before, but it bears repeating: cooking Italian food really can make you feel like Sophia Loren, who did once famously quip, "everything you see I owe to spaghetti."


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Farmer's Market Lasagna
Serves 4 generously

tomato sauce (recipe follows)
4 ounces ricotta cheeses
8 ounces fresh mozzarella, grated
3/4 pound sweet Italian turkey sausage, casings removed
2 zucchini, sliced into rounds
lasagna noodles
1 tablespoon olive oil

Preheat oven to 425 F. Set a large pot of water on to boil.

Meanwhile, in a large sauté pan, heat one tablespoon of olive oil over moderately-high heat. Sauté zucchini until soft and brown in spots. Remove zucchini to a bowl, and set aside.

In the same pan, brown the sausage, breaking up the meat with a wooden spoon. Remove to another bowl and set aside.

Cook lasagna noodles according to package instructions, but remove from water about 2 minutes earlier than instructed (the noodles will continue to cook in the oven).

Spoon a bit of tomato sauce into the bottom of a 8x8 inch baking dish. Top with noodles cut to fit the pan (don't get out a ruler or anything, just eyeball this). Layer zucchini, sausage, ricotta, and mozzarella. Top with more noodles and more sauce. Keep layering, ending with a layer of mozzarella. Place baking dish on a cookie sheet to catch any overflow and bake for 20-25 minutes until cheese is melted and lasagna is bubblingly hot.

Tomato Sauce
adapted from Marcella Hazan's Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking

6 large, ripe tomatoes,*** about 5 pounds
5 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 onion, peeled and cut in half

Bring a pot of water to boil. Score an "X" on the bottom of each tomato and drop into the boiling water for a minute. Pluck tomatoes back out of the water and peel (this is a cinch).

In a medium sauce pan, add tomatoes, onion and butter. Let simmer moderately for about 45 minutes, or until the sauce has reduced somewhat, stirring occasionally to break up the tomatoes. Season with salt and remove the onion. Freeze any leftover sauce up to three months.

***If I were doing this again, I think I would use plum tomatoes (or maybe even a different tomato sauce recipe altogether). Since they have less juice, I imagine I would have had a way less saucy sauce on my hands.


October 14, 2008

The Most Amazing Handmade Laptop Covers

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buy laptop cases as cute as this one at fernfiddlehead

May I be totally honest? I am not a great sewer. I love handmade items, and I feel super inspired to create while browsing fabric stores, but I'm still a beginning (very beginning) seamstress. And if I were to be really, truly, brutally honest with myself, I'm not sure that I'll ever have the unfailing attention to detail or exquisite patience required for projects like this.

So when it comes to something like my dear little laptop, I want a cover made by someone who knows what the hell they're doing. And then I found fernfiddlehead on etsy and my heart leapt right out of my chest. I fell in love with this woodland creature fabric as soon as I saw it, but when I noticed the dear little details like vintage red buttons and twine, I was more than sold. All this charm for the awesome price of $25. Cathy chooses great fabrics, makes iPod covers and various other bags and pouches, and packages things up super thoughtfully before shipping them off to you. And no, she's not paying me to say any of this, I'm just a really, really happy customer. Would that all shopping experiences left me this satisfied!

October 10, 2008

Mix Tape for October: Music to Drive Out of Town To

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pumpkin photo by sandy in seattle

How is it possible I forgot just how magical this time of year is? I am crushing so hard right now on the brisk mornings and the soft, bright light. The air makes me want to hop in my imaginary car wearing my new clogs and a soft sweater and just hightail it out of town, poking along country lanes and singing along with Aretha Franklin. I know I'm not the only one who has this urge. Following is an autumn road trip inspired playlist for journeys out of town both real and imagined, as well as all this month's cooking (have you ever made farro risotto?) and craft (something pink) projects. I hope you have an inspired, restful, hilarious weekend!



October 8, 2008

A Slice of Fall: Tarte Tatin

tarte_tatin_1.jpgDo me a favor, will you? Find yourself an apple today. Not some ole granny smith flown in from afar, but an apple from a farm in your state (and if you don't have apple farms in your state, you have no homework today; class dismissed). Bonus points if you buy it at a farmer's market. Double bonus points if you pick it yourself. You know you're on the right track when perhaps it's a little imperfect, with a bruise or a worm hole. Now, give it a good wash, and in a place where you need a shot of pure ecstasy -- at your desk, perhaps, or on a train platform, or while waiting at the doctor's office -- bite into it. Just a head's up: you might exclaim at the explosion of crisp skin giving way to sweet, juicy fruit. It may be the best thing that happens to you today.

If you ever tire of eating these blessed spheres raw, make this tart. Baking a tarte tatin has long been on my to do list, and eating this over the weekend, first over a heated game of two-person Trivial Pursuit, and later in bed the next morning with coffee (I don't think I need to tell you how heavenly that was), I wondered how I could have lived twenty-six years without making one myself. And then I thought of all the other items to make and bake and see and do hanging out on lists in various notebooks and scrawled on slips of paper tucked into overdue library books and it made me want to get to it. Not in an anxious, harried way, but in the way when you realize life is full of fun and possibility and you are filled to the brim with inspiration and armed with a rolling pin. The instructions for this tart seem long, I know, but I promise the recipe is not difficult or fussy (especially if you can offer a pal a glass of wine and get them to do much of the apple slicing while you're, you know, supervising...); it's really just a matter of making the pâte brisèe. Martha calls her recipe for pie dough perfect, and you know what? It was. So much butter cannot be a bad thing.


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Tarte Tatin
adapted from Martha Stewart's Baking Handbook
serves 6
 
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces (plus more for greasing pan)
all-purpose flour, for dusting work surface
1 cup sugar
dash lemon juice
2 1/2 Cortland or other baking apples, peeled, cored, and sliced 1/4 thick
crème fraîche, for serving

Perfect Pâte Brisèe
(makes enough for two single crust tarts -- save the second crust for another delicious endeavor)

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
2 sticks cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
1/4 cup ice water

First, the dough: in the bowl of a food processor, add flour and salt, pulsing to combine. Add the butter and continue to pulse until the mixture resembles course meal. With the machine running, add the ice water through the feed tube in a slow, steady stream, until the dough just holds together. I almost always seem to need more than 1/4 cup of ice water. You may need to add a bit more, but do so slowly, just a tablespoon at a time.

Turn the dough out onto a clean work surface and divide in half. Place each half on a length of plastic wrap, shape into a disc, and chill for half an hour in the freezer. Wrap the extra dough especially well and leave frozen for up to a month.

Now, the tart itself: preheat the oven to 425 degrees F. Butter a 9-inch pie plate and set aside. Also, line a baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside. Lightly flour your work surface, and roll out the dough to a 9-inch round. Place dough on the prepared baking sheet and chill until firm, about 30 minutes. (I used the freezer again, but I think the fridge would have been better -- just couldn't find any room!)

In a small saucepan, mix together the sugar, 2 tablespoons cold water, and the lemon juice to form a thick syrup. Bring to a boil over high heat, swirling pan occasionally, and cook until the mixture turns a medium amber color. This took about 6 minutes for me, though Martha says it only takes 3. Pour the caramelized mixture into the bottom of the pie plate, and immediately drop in the butter pieces evenly across the hot mixture. Arrange the apple slices in a circular pattern, slightly overlapping, starting from the outside and working in. Drape the chilled dough over the apples to cover the mixture completely and cut off any excess dough.

Bake until crust is golden, about 25 minutes. Remove from oven and place a plate over the top of the tart. Over the sink, quickly invert the tart so that it will fall out onto the plate. Use tongs to lift the pie plate off the tart. Serve warm with crème fraîche, or at room temperature, preferably in bed. 

October 7, 2008

Watch This: Handmade Nation



I could not resist posting the opening credits to Handmade Nation, it fills me with so much glee. The opening credits alone will make you so proud to be a creative, crafty person alive today. Doesn't it just make you want to create something?

October 6, 2008

8 Things I'm Happy About in October

I'm feeling very visually inspired these days...

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Muji Notebooks, set of 5 with colored spines, $3.50


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Rustic Plum Tart with Cornmeal Crust, courtesy of Miss Martha


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The Gentle Art of Domesticity by Jane Brocket



hot_coffee.jpgthe return of hot coffee


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The Obama Craft Project this one by miss_glass



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Plaid, in all its many forms



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Colored pencils, for fanciful doodles


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Dahlias, my very favorite flowers


What about this month has got you feeling grand?

October 3, 2008

Come Sup' with Me


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I don't like dinner parties. Oh, you don't either? You don't like all that fussing and the stressed host and the awkward conversations and the lights on too bright in the living room and all the silly courses that really only make sense if you have a manservant and who has a manservant these days, anyway? I totally hear you.

Can I tell you what I do like, in fact, really, really love? I love having people over for supper. A difference in semantics, yes, but also a totally different attitude.

Having people over for supper means someone sitting on the floor while we're snacking on olives. It means crowding around a table of mismatched chairs and unmatched napkins. It means listening to Otis Redding, talking about real stuff, and if I am extraordinarily lucky, someone other than me suggesting an impromptu dance party or game of charades.

This is food at its best. For me, the greatest pleasure of cooking is getting to provide and share. When it's just me, hacking at an onion is as relaxing as 90 minutes of yoga. But when there are others who will be sitting around a table with me, filling the living room with their stories and the sort of grand, creative ideas that can only be hatched in this very environment, putting dinner together is beyond the beyond. I live for that. It's not a performance of any kind, hostessing or culinary. It's just sharing in the most basic human need -- hey, are you hungry? -- and marking the occasion as more than just a base human requirement. In fact, it's like magic.

I put together these individual flower arrangements in juice glasses and jam jars. Then I snapped some leftover summer kabob sticks in half, cut strips from a brown paper bag, and made little flags for each person, stamping their names out. The imperfect charm of rubber stamps just never gets old for me.

October 1, 2008

Breakfast...And the Little Things

I took a break from blogging, and funny enough, that made me realize the error of my ways. When life gets tough, what I need, maybe more than ever, is to appreciate the little things.

Like getting up in the morning. I'm naturally a sleepyhead, but I do love the romanticism of the early day. Thoreau called it the heroic hour; the idea that I might accomplish great feats in the understated early hours coupled with the soft, slanty light is almost enough to make me want to jump up out of the warm sheets.

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Buy these lovelies at A Touch of Vintage

Almost. These brightly-hued jam and honey pots might give the extra incentive. Wouldn't they be lovely on a white kitchen table? Maybe right next to this book.

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Buy the book here; read the blog here

This book is a conversation in pictures between two friends. The photographs linger on the beautifully quotidian details of getting up and carrying on. I can think of few things as encouraging as that.

And with that, I'm back. But you know, I'm not sure I would have been eager to get back in this space had it not been for all your sweet emails and comments (and mail!). There really is something to this online community, isn't there? Again, thank you so much.