Pink of Perfection

Again and again, I fall for the idea of summer vegetables baked together. And each time, when the softened hues emerge from the oven, I know instantly it was a bad idea. It’s like falling for the bow-legged cowboy each time you walk into the bar. You are twenty-one and so stupid, and he will break your heart.

That’s kind of how I feel about tians and ratatouille. The vegetables turn sumptuous and slouched, but I just keep thinking I’d rather have something sturdy and stand-up, like an unbaked tomato on a sandwich or maybe a raw ribboned zucchini salad. Neither of which would have required turning on the oven, my singular goal of these three summer months.

Also, I feel a bit flummoxed about what to serve with this. Polenta always fails me, pasta seems a little boring. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t know how to make a meal out of fragrant baked vegeables. Maybe herb-spiked quinoa or bulgur would be nice. But just thinking about that meal makes me feel vaguely unsatisfied, like when the cowboy says goodnight for the final time without a kiss. I’m just hungry for a little more.

Those of you who see the tian light, tell me: what am I missing?

Continue reading “French Friday: Summer Vegetable Tian” »

There’s a spot in the Poconos that I think I would rate as one of my top five places on earth. Ferns cover the forest floor. The ceiling fans whir powerfully on hot days. There is a library stocked with Julia Child cookbooks and mysteries, a cool lake beckons for afternoon dips, and a million and one stars come out at night. On walks in the woods there, I always seem to have my favorite kind of conversations filled with big dreams and possibilities, birch trees and mushrooms bearing witness to grand plans.

But what do you do when you’re responsible for dinner on the first night of a weekend away, and plan to carry a picnic across state lines? Why, you bring a sandwich that gets better with sitting! And what do you do if you’re feeding vegans and omnivores alike? Well, you get creative!

The classic pan bagnat, in some ways like a niçoise salad tucked inside bread, has canned tuna or hard-cooked eggs. With vegans present, I made two versions: one with tuna, and one with mashed chickpeas. The entire sandwich is brushed or drizzled with a garlicky vinaigrette, and then tightly wrapped, placed in your picnic basked and smooshed down with something heavy like a couple bottles of wine. With deviled eggs, baby carrots, a mess of cherries and root beer floats for dessert, you might call this a perfect summer meal.

Continue reading “French Friday: Pan Bagnat, Tuna and Vegan” »

I wish you could have seen me the day I made this tart. I felt like I was auditioning for a Martha Stewart Living picnic feature, but with glaring (and decidedly un-Martha) Sarah-isms: my tupperware was leaking, the napkins didn’t match, and I forgot the salad dressing. While Martha may have you feeling inadequate if you don’t print out templates to label everyone’s mason jar lemonade glass, with me as your guide, you will feel like the Queen of Togetherness if you just remember the cutlery. Perhaps it is only my way of justifying my own inadequacies, but I find the thrown-together, fly-by-night approach less precious and infinitely more charming.

Salad dressing and damp mismatched napkins aside, you can’t take away the raw materials I had to my advantage for this evening picnic: a community garden lush with hosta, roses, and vegetables, a small wooden gazebo to sit under, and at dusk, the brightest lightning bugs I’ve ever seen. Wedges of this rich tart still warm from the oven and Lillet spritzers weren’t too shabby either. And for dessert, Lisa brought a pint of blueberries and the lightest macaroons I’ve ever tasted (like Samoas for grown-ups, I said). Tuesday nights really don’t get much better.

I’ve been wanting to make pissaladière, a Provencal onion tart, for awhile, but it wasn’t until my Grand Diplôme Book 8 lesson on savory tarts popped up that I knew the hour was nigh. Even the anchovy-phobic might be able to appreciate the counterpart the little fishes play to the sweet pile of thyme-scented caramelized onions underneath them. Later on in the summer, I think this would make a great picnic on a very hot day with hard-boiled eggs and a sliced tomato salad.

Here’s hoping you all have a blissful, relaxing weekend perhaps including your inaugural glass of rosé for the season (I think I just might!).

Continue reading “French Friday: Pissaladière” »

Oh yo, oh yo, catch this:¹ This is, without a doubt, one of my very favorite things that has ever come out of my own kitchen. It is also very, very possible that is one of my favorite things that I have ever eaten, ever, from my humble hands or the hands of far more talented cooks on this or other continents. Did I mention, ever?

To be honest, I didn’t think it would turn out this way. I sort of skimmed the recipe and thought, “Oh, scallops are on sale this week. What a quick, elegant way to use them. How easy is that?” I like to talk to myself like the Barefoot Contessa when I’m looking at her recipes. It passes the time.

Thing is, when it comes to Food Network personalities, Paula Deen gets all the credit as the butter-lover. But Ina — however more discretely she is at work — deserves to share that crown. While Paula gets her rocks off calling attention to the butter, y’all, Ina rarely acknowledges what she’s plopping into a mixing bowl. So, unless you’ve got a hawk eye for such things or high cholesterol, you might not even notice the many, many tablespoons of butter she puts in everything. And what of it, really? Butter is delicious; fat tastes good. Would Julia bat an eye? I think not.

Even so, I fell prey to Ina’s slight of hand. Because when I was still under the delusion that this might be a moderately healthy dinner, I was measuring out the butter and then adding olive oil and — I’d been had!

So I made a rich, unhealthy, succulently luscious dinner by accident on a random weeknight. And you know what? It was one of the crowing glories of my culinary life. This is what I want to eat on my deathbed, or when someone is trying to seduce me, or when a heartbroken friend comes over for dinner. This is the food that reaffirms your faith in the act and effort of living.

The freshest seafood can taste of life and the sea itself. This dish combines the best of the watery depths with butter, olive oil, and white wine. Together, these four culminate in some sort of new and profound creation of deliciousness. I hardly understand it myself. But add a fleck of parsley, salty prosciutto, bright lemon juice, and the toasted crunch of panko, and you are looking at a dinner of such deep and abiding pleasures, I myself am beginning to blush.

Is there anything more to say than: make this?

Continue reading “French Friday: Scallop Gratin” »

I’m of two minds about mussels. On the one hand, they are a blissfully cheap shellfish that, as far as I know, don’t wreak havoc on the environment. Their taste is delicate and sea-fresh and they feel mighty elegant for $1.99 a pound. On the other, they’re little mofos to clean. If you’re a delicate sort, the scrubbing, debearding, and sound of live mollusks aspirating in a bowl of water can put you off your dinner. For those in the latter camp, I suggest sticking with mussels in restaurants ushered to your table in a giant bowl accompanied by a tower of French fries, while you stay perched on a banquet, perhaps with a glass of champagne in your hand, delightfully unawares of the necessary dirty work involved.

But if you are an industrious sort of lady — and most thrifty girls are, to some extent — you will be pleased at a recipe that can only be described as a revelation. The cost is practically zilch, yet this dinner feels offhandedly elegant, your bowl filled with rich aromatics and the subtle taste of the sea. Pour a dry, mineraly white wine, and serve with plenty of sour French bread for soaking up that fine broth.

In other news, I had the great pleasure to chat with writer Cheri Hanson about creativity and writing; her interview with me is posted on her fantastic blog, Inspired Outsiders. Happy weekend to all you lovelies!

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Has this week been intense for you? Mine’s been intense, like, whoa. A bit of intensity can be good, though. Instead of skating along on the surface of the day-to-day, you’re right in there, engrossed in your work, your relationships, affected deeply by the light, the poems you read, the music you hear. It’s a little exhausting to be so on, riding the merry-go-round of so many feelings. But it also seems sort of fitting right now.

I mark the time in my life by the willow tree on the next block. It’s a subtle sort of tree. It doesn’t suddenly spring into bloom like the more obvious show-offs in the neighborhood. Its branches take on a brittle look in the colder months, snap off, and collect on the ground around its trunk. And right now, it’s marked by just a faint coloring of green. In another month or two, it will be lush with long, feathery leaves and whispery when the wind blows. But I know from watching it even now that change is afoot.

Do you feel that way, too, as the seasons shift? Do you feel like you’re coming up from underground, waking from a long sleep?

Well…I’m not quite sure how to transition into talking about this salad, other than to say that the bright orange yolk of a runny egg feels like a new beginning, whether it’s eaten in April or February. But I love this salad deeply, and eating it transports me to a memory of something I’ve never even done: I am sitting outside a Paris bistro on a rickety chair in the sun, the traffic going by, lifting fork to mouth, this salad perched on the tines. I am wearing something impossibly, yet effortlessly chic. And I never, ever sweat. Isn’t this a fun game? By the way, the very best thick-cut bacon and the freshest egg you can find make all the difference here.

One more thing: thank you. Thank you so much for being the best blog readers out there and for making this not only fun but meaningful. Really. Thank you.

Happy weekend!

Continue reading “French Friday: Frisée with Lardon” »

There was once a restaurant in our neighborhood where I loved to go on snowy days. Inside, it was what I imagine a Swiss ski lodge is like — all dark wood, tall paned windows, and a roaring fire. I would sit on the wooden bench, wrapped in a scarf, and order a bowl of their French onion soup. At brunch, a basket of sweet, yeasty breads and orange-scented butter would come out first. And then the soup would arrive, crusty with just enough melted cheese to make a point (but not create a stomachache) and I would break the surface and dip down into a rich brown broth. It was, until the restaurant closed a few years ago, one of my favorite weekend lunches.

I don’t think I’ve ever met a friend or foe who didn’t care for French onion soup. It’s one of those foods that’s pretty delicious even when it’s not it’s best (though I’ve never been one to grumble over too much cheese), and it’s blissfully simple to make. I confess I’ve gone into a bit of a panic in the last couple weeks over all the wintery foods I still want to make before the first asparagus crops up. There is the truffle mac and cheese beckoning and the fondue (and do I see a fromagey theme here?), but what I would say to you is: this should make your winter short list. If you’ve never made French onion soup it’s absolutely worth a whirl, and such a comfort on a snowy night when you are hunkered down on the couch this weekend watching Doctor Zhivago.

Continue reading “French Friday: Onion Soup Gratinée” »