Cooking For Others: Pasta For Pop

EVENT: Mom’s MIA, Time to Eat Carbs
VENUE: Phoebe's Parents' House, Martha’s Vineyard
PARTY SIZE: 2
TYPE: Father-Daughter Bonding
MENU: Linguine with Littlenecks, Tomatoes, and Corn; Mixed Greens with Lemon Vinaigrette

It occurred to me, strange as it may seem, that I rarely mention my dad on this blog. Granted, we haven’t spent much time in the kitchen together, and save for a few perfect roast chickens—a phase brought on by acquiring the Barefoot Contessa cookbooks (if Ina Garten's husband Jeffrey could make it, so could he)—most of the cooking of my childhood came from my mother in the form of varied vegetable concoctions and garlic soup. My main memories of dad’s domestic prowess are of bagels with the perfect amount of cream cheese slathered on top (meaning about half the tub), and my morning toast, which would arrive on the plate cut into puzzle pieces—triangles, stars, and occasionally, when he was feeling super creative with a butter knife, the letters of my name.

These days Dad’s presence by the stove still mainly revolves around breakfast. Last year I bought him a smoothie maker for Hanukkah, and since then the fridge has been filled not only with crusted-over mugs of my mother’s green soup, but also half-finished glasses of dad’s pureed blueberries with Greek yogurt. I have yet to try any of his creations, mainly because most involve fruit, my arch-enemy, but I’m told that two bites of his Monday morning oatmeal is enough to rewire your intestines for the rest of the week.

But while the majority of my cooking life has been spent either with my mother, with Cara, or alone in the kitchen with both of their guidance ringing in my ears, the bulk of my eating moments have been with my father. It is to him that I owe my sweet tooth—I cannot drive by a Friendly’s on the highway without craving a black-and-white fribble, pass by the bakery on my block without wanting a piece of coconut cake, or pass up a malted milk ball in the candy bins at a movie theater. Since, of course, neither can he. More to the point, he is infamous for ordering the molten lava cake off the dessert tray, taking one microscopic bite, then pushing the plate towards me.

Today, we both try to be better. My metabolism has slowed enough to put me in mom’s camp of health food, and dad’s cholesterol has risen enough to replace vanilla ice cream with skinny cow fudge bars, and everyday bagels with oatmeal. His morals have changed too, and nine months ago he decided to jump on Cara’s bandwagon and become a full-fledged pescatarian. But regardless, one vice still remains strong: carbs.

My mom has a gluten allergy, but even if she didn’t, she’d probably pass up pasta, and scoff at it for being pedestrian processed white food for the overweight masses, of which, she claims my father’s potbelly qualifies him for membership. Even so, she’ll make a serving or two of pasta, rice, or potatoes with a little adornment—butter, herbs, or garlic—to appease my father’s appetite and prevent either one of us from giving in to our other vice: takeout.

So when mom is away, carbs get to take center stage. Such was the case last weekend, and we celebrated with a subtle rebellion: one simple pasta dish with fresh clams, corn, and tomatoes—all the summer's bounty spun around a beautiful white strand of linguine. In the grand scheme of creamy, cheesy Italian favorites, this dish was probably the best excuse for bad behavior. But, then again, that leaves plenty more naughtiness for dessert.

From my kitchen, where pop’s pasta intake is not policed, to yours,

Phoebe, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipe**

Linguine with Littlenecks, Tomatoes, and Corn
Makes 2 servings

Ingredients
½ lb linguine
2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1 small Vidalia onion or 2 shallots, finely chopped
1 ½ dozen littleneck clams (cherrystones work well too), scrubbed
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1 cup dry white wine
½ cup clam juice (optional)
1 plum tomato, seeded and finely chopped
2 ears corn, shucked and kernels removed
1 tbsp chopped basil
1 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley (plus a little extra for garnish)
olive oil
salt

Bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Before adding the pasta, add a glug of olive oil to the water. Cook the pasta according to package directions until al dente.


In the meantime, sauté the garlic in 1 tablespoon olive oil until golden brown in a large Dutch oven or saucepan with a lid. Add the onions and sauté until translucent. Add the red pepper flakes, wine, clam juice (if using), and tomatoes to the pan. When the liquids are bubbling, add the clams. Simmer the mixture for 3 minutes, then cover the pan until the clams have begun to open, about 4-5 minutes.

When the first few have opened completely, add the corn and the herbs. Simmer uncovered until all the clams have opened, and discard any that fail to do so. Taste the sauce for seasoning, and add any salt as necessary.

Add the pasta to the clam mixture and toss to combine. Serve immediately and garish with a sprinkle of herbs, and some crusty bread on the side.

all done

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What's In The Bag: Anchovy Paste-Off

EVENT: Cooking From Christina’s Bag
MAIN INGREDIENTS: Chives, Eggplant, Anchovy Paste, Artichoke Hearts
CARA’S ADDITIONS: Fettucine, Pine Nuts, Raisins, Saffron, Fennel
PHOEBE’S ADDITIONS: Striped Bass, Parsley, Capers, Lemon, Red Onion (leftover)
MENU: Sicilian Pasta (C); Eggplant Bruschetta (C); Striped Bass with Salsa Verde and Mediterranean Roasted Vegetables (P)

Voila! Our final set of recipes from your shopping bags. What Christina brought to the table seemed so different from what we usually have in our bags, cabinets, and fridges—and yet so enticing—we both decided to have a go at it. Likewise, what we made was quite different from one another, and yet they both turned out so surprisingly well. As we wrote this draft, our mouths wound up watering at each other's mutually enticing fare.

From our kitchens, where we're grateful for your shopping originality, to yours,

Cara and Phoebe, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOKS

**Recipes**

Sicilian Pasta
Serves 4

This pasta may look unassuming, but its flavors—from earthy saffron to briny anchovies to fragrant pinenuts and sweet raisins—combine to make such a statement in every bite. Definitely one to try! Serve with a simple summer salad.

Ingredients
1 tablespoon chives
1 tablespoon anchovy paste, or 2 anchovies, finely minced
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon toasted pine nuts
1 tablespoon raisins, plumped for 20 minutes in hot water
1 bulb fennel, thinly sliced, with a bit of the green part chopped finely and thrown in
pinch of saffron
3/4 pound pasta, preferably fresh and preferable fettucine

Combine all ingredients. Let them marinate for four hours, or longer in the refrigerator.

Cook the pasta according to directions. Drain and immediately toss with the marinade. Sprinkle with pine nuts and serve.

Artichoke-Eggplant Salad
Serves 4

This might seem like a cop-out—simply mixing two of the ingredients and throwing them on a piece of toast—if it weren't for my recorded new obsession with marinated grilled eggplant. You can either verify that for yourself by making this dish, or just believe that I put this together because it was delicious—not just easy.

Ingredients
1 large eggplant, sliced
1/2 jar marinated artichoke hearts
1/2 baguette, in thin slices

Bake lightly oiled slices of eggplant in a 400 degree oven for 20 minutes. Toast the baguette slices briefly.

Chop the artichokes. Mix with eggplant strips. Let rest for an hour. Spoon mixture onto baguette pieces, and enjoy.

Striped Bass with Salsa Verde and Mediterranean Roasted Vegetables
Makes 2 Servings

True, I have yet to try Cara's marinated grilled eggplant. But until she makes me a portion, instead of just inundating my inbox with oh-so appetizing pictures, I will remain a believer that roasting is the best way to create the perfect mouthful of eggplant. More so, baking the vegetables at a very high heat in the oven can transform a soggy, dull piece of artichoke into a fresh, crispy marvel. I toss them piping hot with a simple salsa verde--chives, parsley, anchovy paste, lemon juice and capers--and pile them high over a simple filet of bass. You can use any leftover herbs for the salsa, and any sturdy fish as the center-piece. But what really makes these simple Mediterranean flavors come together is the anchovy paste which, without Christina's inspiration, I would have not dared add to my shopping bag.

Ingredients
3-4 Japanese eggplant (1 small regular), cut into ½ inch rounds
½ red onion, quartered and sliced
1 6oz jar marinated artichoke hearts, drained and rinsed
1 tbsp capers
1 tbsp chopped parsley
1 tbsp chopped chives
1 tsp anchovy paste
2 tbsp lemon juice (about ½ lemon)
2 tbsp olive oil
¼ tsp salt
¾ lb striped bass filet, skin-on
olive oil

Preheat the oven to 445°F.

In a large rimmed baking dish, combine the eggplant, onion, and artichoke hearts with a glug of olive oil and a sprinkle of salt. Toss until fully coated, and then shake the pan to make sure the vegetables lie flat and have the maximum possible surface area exposed. Roast in the oven for 20 minutes. With a spatula, redistribute the vegetables so they brown on the opposite side, and return to the oven for another 10-20 minutes, until the vegetables are dark brown and caramelized.

In the meantime, make the salsa verde: Combine the capers, herbs, anchovy paste, lemon juice, oil and salt in a small bowl and whisk until fully incorporated.

Coat a large skillet with olive oil and set it over high heat. Pat the fish fillet dry and when the pan starts to smoke, set it flesh-side down in the hot oil. Cook until the fish flesh has turned opaque half way through, then flip the fish and cook skin-side down. Cook time depends on the thickness of the fish. If you have a very thick filet, finish in a 400 degree oven for a few minutes, or return the flame to low and cover the pan for a few minutes.

Set fish fillet on a platter or between two plates. Drizzle the top with a spoonful of salsa verde. When the vegetables have finished roasting, toss them together with the remaining salsa. Top the fish with the vegetable mixture and garnish with some chopped chives.

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What's In The Bag: Turkey Burgers with Beet Relish

EVENT: Cooking From Kate’s Bag
IN KATE'S BAG: Ground Turkey, Beets, Fresh Corn, Red Onion
MY ADDITIONS: Fresh Dill, Lemon Juice, Chives
MENU: Dill Turkey Burgers with Pickled Red Onion and Beet Relish; Sweet Corn with Chive Butter

In our second day of cooking from your bags, I opened Kate's. Hers also contained a lot of summer stuff, but at the center was a new vehicle for serving it: ground turkey. I was glad, since I've always been more enthusiastic about making chicken or turkey burgers over the standard beef. Five or so years back, during summer no less, I remembered using fresh dill to add extra flavor to my turkey burger for a casual weekend night dinner, and my friend Jessy still raves about it to this day. Since beets go well with dill, I decided to use them as a condiment rather than a centerpiece, pairing them with quick pickled onions in a punchy relish.

Though the french fry is the obligatory compliment in a restaurant, when grilling burgers at home during summer, there always seems to be a corn cob to round out the meal. My mother and I usually drench ours in basil butter, but since I had some chives on hand, I used those.

From my kitchen, with a bag full of seasoned suggestions, to yours,

Phoebe, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipes**

Dill Turkey Burgers with Pickled Red Onion and Beet Relish
Makes 2 (very large) burgers

Ingredients

For the burgers:

2 tbsp minced red onion
1 garlic clove, minced
1 tbsp finely chopped fresh dill
1 tbsp mayonnaise
1 tbsp Dijon mustard
1 tbsp lemon juice
1/2 tsp salt
1lb light meat turkey

For the relish:

1 tbsp dill
1 tbsp pickled red onion (recipe to follow)
2 tbsp finely diced beets (see Red Flannel Hash Recipe for roasted beets)

In a skillet, sauté the onion and garlic in a little oil until fragrant and translucent, about two to three minutes. Remove all bits from the pan and transfer to a medium mixing bowl.

Toss together the onion mixture, dill, mayo, mustard, lemon juice, and salt. Add the turkey meat and with clean hands, mix it together with the other ingredients. Make sure not to over work the turkey. When the meat mixture is well incorporated, form it into two or three patties, depending on your desired burger size. If you have the time, chill in the refrigerator for twenty minutes or so. This can be done up to a day ahead.

Meanwhile, combine the ingredients for the relish in a small bowl.

Heat a few tables of olive oil in the skillet—enough to coat the bottom—and get it nice and hot. Add the burgers (in batches if necessary) and cook on both sides until brown and cooked through, about 5 minutes per side.

Serve immediately open faced, on a toasted bun, or with a mixed green salad and top with the relish and a pickled onion round or two. Dill mayonnaise or crème fraiche would be a nice compliment as well.


Pickled Red Onions
Makes 1 cup

Ingredients
1 small red onion, peeled and sliced into thin rounds
¼ cup cider vinegar
2 tbsp sugar
½ tsp salt

Combine the vinegar, sugar, and salt in a small saucepan over medium heat. Bring to a boil and simmer for two minutes, until the sugars have dissolved.

In a small bowl, pour the pickling liquid over the onion rounds. Allow to sit for 10 to 15 minutes. Remove onions from liquid and pat dry. Transfer to a jar or Tupperware container, toss with a touch of olive oil and a sprinkle of salt and store until time of serving. Hold onto the liquid for another use

Sweet Corn with Chive Butter
Makes 2 servings (can easily add another ear or two of corn)

Ingredients
2 ears of corn
2 tbsp butter
2 tbsp snipped chives
salt

Bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Blanche the corn for a few minutes, until the kernels turn a beautiful bright yellow (be careful not to overcook). Remove immediately to an ice bath or run the cobs under cold water to stop the cooking. Set aside on a platter.

In a small bowl, melt the butter in the microwave. Stir in the chives and pour over the corn. Sprinkle each with salt, and serve immediately.

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What's in the Bag: Summer Stuff

EVENT: Cooking from Sara's Shopping Bag
VENUE: Cara's Apartment, Park Slope
PARTY SIZE: 3
TYPE: Weekday Fare
MENU: Edamame Succotash, Sweet Tomato Grilled Cheese

Last week, in honor of our new banner, we asked you to list four items from your current shopping bag, real or hypothetical. Not surprisingly, in this late-summer abundance, many readers listed some combination of seasonal fruits and vegetables: zucchini, corn, tomatoes, eggplant, figs, peaches, and beets. Though we're honoring one particular reader's bag, as per the rules, we hope that all of you with fresh summer produce can find something to cook in the recipes that follow, below, tomorrow, and the day after that.

To all those who wrote in, thank you! We're nerds, but there's something so exciting, we found, about seeing what other people are buying and eating.

As for the process: we selected three shopping bags. I cooked from one, Phoebe from another, and then we both did our renditions of a third. We added some basic ingredients, most from our list of everyday items (oil, vinegar, onions, garlic, sugar, salt, and pepper), but we kept your suggestions as the featured elements in every dish. Today we've featured Sara's bag, and in the next few days we'll post about the rest.

WHAT'S IN SARA'S BAG: Zucchini, Corn, Tomatoes, Peaches
WHAT I ADDED: Edamame, Baguette, Cheese

From my kitchen, where you bring the ingredients, to yours,

Cara, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipes**

Edamame Succotash
Serves 4

Ingredients
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 shallot, minced
1 clove garlic, minced
1 zucchini, cut into a fine dice
3 ears of corn, kernels removed
3/4 cup frozen shelled edamame
fresh basil

Saute the shallot and garlic in olive oil over low heat. You want the onion to be translucent and not quite browned. Raise the heat to medium and add the diced zucchini. Stir fry for about 2 minutes, then add the corn kernels. Cook for five minutes, until they are soft and sweet, and then add edamame. Cook until hot through, adding 1/4 cup of water if the mixture starts sticking to the pan. Sprinkle in fresh basil, taste for salt, and serve hot or room temperature, or cold, as a salad.
Sweet Tomato Grilled Cheeses
Serves 4

I don't know about you, but I quite enjoy my grilled cheese sandwiches dipped in ketchup. In this gourmet sandwich, a ketchup-like condiment—Sweet Tomato Jam, made out of peaches and tomatoes—is actually built into the sandwich, giving you the same taste sensation with so much added convenience.

Ingredients
1 baguette
4 ounces smoked cheese, like mozzarella or gouda, or whatever you like

For the sweet tomato jam:
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 large yellow tomato, diced
1 peach, peeled, pitted, and diced
1/2 onion, minced
1 garlic clove, minced
1/4 cup fresh basil1 tablespoon brown sugar
2 tablespoons white sugar
2 tablespoons white vinegar
salt to taste
Heat the olive oil in a small pan. Add the onions and garlic and cook until translucent. Add the peaches, tomatoes, and torn basil, and raise the heat to medium high. Stir in the two kinds of sugar and the vinegar and bring to a boil. Once you see a few bubbles, give the mixture a stir, then let it simmer until thickened and jammy, about an hour. Remove from the heat and let cool. (These ingredients make about a scant cup of jam--enough for the four sandwiches. You can double or even triple the ingredients if you want to keep some in the fridge for garnishing other dishes.)
Cut the baguette in half, lengthwise, then cut it into four pieces. Slice the cheese and layer it on each piece. Spread one side of each baguette with tomato jam. Using a lightly oiled panini maker or frying pan, cook the sandwiches on both sides until the cheese is melted and the crust is crispy. Serve immediately.

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Recipe Flash: Red Flannel Hash

WHAT YOU'LL NEED: Lodge Cast Iron Skillet

As the season would have it, many commenters listed beets as their ingredient of choice in last week's shopping bag challenge. While I was cruising the internet for some inspiration, I came across a recipe for red flannel hash. Now, mind you, the dish is usually a staple of cold winter months. But I was attracted nonetheless, and felt if I could, say, put a seasonal spin on it—adding blue potatoes and the white of a beautifully fried egg—it might just be suitable for summer.

From my kitchen, albeit small, to yours,

Phoebe, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipe**

Red, White, and Blue Flannel Hash
Makes 2 Servings

Ingredients
3 medium-large beets, scrubbed and trimmed
¾ lb small red-skinned and blue-skinned potatoes (can substitute 2 large russets), diced
1 medium Vidalia onion
1 ½ tbsp chopped fresh dill
1 egg
olive oil
salt

2 eggs for frying (optional)

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Arrange the beets in a small baking dish and fill with enough water to submerge the beets 1 inch. Season with salt, cover the dish with foil, and bake in the oven for 30-40 minutes, until the beets are fork tender. Allow beets to cool enough to handle. Remove skins with a paring knife—they should come off easily. Dice beets and set aside in a medium mixing bowl.

In the meantime, while the beets are roasting, coat a large skillet with olive oil and sauté the potatoes over medium-high heat. When the potatoes are tender, but not completely cooked, add the onions and season generously with salt and pepper. Continue to sauté until the onions and potatoes are slightly caramelized, another 5-7 minutes. Add the potato-onion mixture to the beets and allow both to cool.In a small cup or bowl, scramble 1 of the eggs. Add to the beet-potato mixture along with the dill and ½ teaspoon of salt. Toss until the vegetables are fully coated.

With a paper towel, remove any scraps from the skillet so it is more or less clean, and add another generous coating of olive oil. Get the oil nice and hot, then add the hash in one layer, pressing down with your spatula to form a large cake. Cook for a few minutes until the bottom is crispy and the hash has firmed up. Flip in sections and cook until the other side is crispy.Remove the hash and split between two serving plates. Clean the pan, add some more oil and fry two eggs. Top each plate of hash with a fried egg and serve immediately.

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Cooking for Others: Backseat Chef

EVENT: Saturday Night Barbecuing
VENUE: Cara's Mother's House, Long Island
PARTY SIZE: 6
MENU: Eggplant with Sweet Sesame Soy; Lettuce Wraps with Cod and Condiments
PHOTOS BY: Alex

Jill, my older sister, is not as culinarily disposed as the rest of my family. She likes cooking now more than she used to, but where the rote parts of making a meal—cutting, mixing, and stirring—provide me an entrance into a nearly meditative state, for her, they are a little dull. For whatever reason, she does seem to enjoy cleaning up the kitchen after we've made a feast that uses every pot and pan and sullies every possible counter top.

Even more than cleaning, Jill likes designing meals. She'll spend an afternoon brainstorming exactly the meal we should eat that night, down to plating style and important condiments. She'll decide on what complements what, and she'll even head to the supermarket to pick up any ingredients we're missing. And then she's been known to direct once cooking is underway, making sure those at the stove and cutting board are remaining true to her vision. All these behaviors have earned her the nickname of Backseat Chef. I would like to clarify, though: while a Backseat Driver has connotations of annoying and overbearing, we do appreciate Jill's involvement in developing the menus we eat.

Since it's nearing the end of the summer, we've exhausted the go-to grill options. Throwing on a big piece of striped bass and adorning it afterward with only grilled zucchini and perhaps some potatoes cooked in the embers isn't quite as appealing in late August as it was in June.

So we get creative. Or, more accurately, Jill gets creative.

She first described this dish as fish wraps, and I turned my nose up. But then we revised the name as Lettuce Wraps, just lettuce wraps that happened to have fish in them. Jill dictated some of the necessary condiments, the rice noodles, the nuoc cham, and the crunchy cucumber salad. I added the eggplant, which was a variation on a dish I had wanted to make anyway, and I also threw together a peanut-cilantro relish, for beauty and added flavor. Everything was married by the juice of innumerable limes. Knowing what endpoint Jill had in mind somehow gave me the intuitive knowledge needed to fulfill her vision, despite never having made such a dish, or even such a cuisine (bastardized Thai-Vietnamese, or something like that).

From my kitchen, where I steer the spatula even if I don't navigate the menu, to yours,

Cara, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipes**

Lettuce Wraps
Serves 6

Ingredients
1 head iceberg or romaine lettuce, leaves intact
2 pounds cod
1 package rice noodles
1 teaspoon canola oil

Rinse the lettuce. Carefully pull out each leaf and arrange on a plate.

Cook the rice noodles as directed on the package. Drain and toss with the teaspoon of oil. Set aside.

We cooked the cod on the barbecue, since that what we'd been doing all summer. But you need a grill pan to do this, since cod falls apart on the grill, and so I'd recommend cooking your cod inside, as below. (You can also substitute chicken breasts, pre-cooked and shredded.)

Poach the cod: arrange it on a steamer basket in a large pot over about 1 inch of boiling stock or water. If you don't have a steamer basket, lay it right on in the pan. Cover and let cook 8-10 minutes, until opaque throughout. Carefully lift it out, but don't worry if the fish flakes, since you'll break it up for the wraps anyway. Garnish with a bit of lime juice and a sprinkling of Peanut Relish (see below).

Put out the plate of lettuce, the fish, the rice noodles, and all the below condiments. Let each person load some noodles, fish, sauce, and whichever condiment she chooses onto the wrap.

The Condiments

Nuoc Cham
2 cloves garlic
1 1/2 tablespoons sugar
4 tablespoons lime juice
3 tablespoons Thai fish sauce
1/4 cup water
2 tablespoons julienned carrots (optional)

Pulse the garlic with the sugar in a food processor. If you don't have one, mince the garlic, then sprinkle with about 1 teaspoon of the sugar and use it to pulverize the garlic while y0u chop.

Add the lime juice and let sit for about half an hour so the garlic can mellow.

Add the remaining ingredients and refrigerate until ready to use.

Peanut Relish
1/2 cup roasted salted peanuts, coarsely chopped
1/2 cup fresh cilantro, chopped
1 small onion, diced
juice from 1 lime

Toss the onion with the lime juice. Let sit for about 30 minutes. Add the peanuts and cilantro and mix so the ingredients are distributed evenly.

Cucumber Salad
Ingredients

8 Kirby cucumbers, sliced
1 tablespoon salt
1/4 mild white vinegar (like rice wine)
1-2 tablespoons sugar

Toss the cucumbers with the salt. Let sit for about 30 minutes, then rinse. Wrap the slices in a dish towel and squeeze as much liquid as possible out of them.

Combine the vinegar and 1 tablespoon of the sugar. Toss with the cucumbers and add more sugar to taste.

Eggplant with Sweet Sesame Soy
Serves 6 as a side dish.
Adapted from NY Times/Mark Bittman.

Ingredients
2 large eggplants
1 tablespoon olive oil
1/3 cup soy sauce
1 tablespoon sugar
2 tablespoons sesame seeds

Cut the eggplant into slices. Sprinkle with salt and let sweat for 30-60 minutes. Rinse and blot dry. Brush with the olive oil and grill as described in this recipe. If you have an outdoor grill, definitely use it.

Meanwhile, toast the sesame seeds in a dry pan over medium heat until they are brown and fragrant. Mix them with the soy sauce and sugar.

When the eggplant is done cooking, cut each round into slices about 1 inch wide. Toss with the soy-sesame sauce and serve at room temperature.
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Cooking For One: The Kohlrabi Dilemma

DISH: Steamed Vegetables in Curry Sauce
TYPE: Working with What You Have
MAIN INGREDIENTS: Kohlrabi

Sometimes, when I'm in the mood to feel pampered, I'll take my mother up on her offer to get me some farmers' market vegetables when she's out shopping for her own. Though this is a luxury, it also come with some risks. Recently, when I requested "cucumbers, tomatoes, and some greens," I received cucumbers, tomatoes, and a bunch of kohlrabi, three purplish bulbs with long leafy stems. I had been expecting kale, Swiss chard, or arugula, so I'll admit I was a little taken back by these strange items.

Googling brought up the fact that kohlrabi is often eaten in Kashmir, and that made me think of curry. I think in India, it's eaten almost like a relish, with whole mustard seeds, but I went down an American path, making the kind of curry sauce that might coat poached chicken in a gourmet deli's chicken salad. It's an enticing and unusual way to serve an unusual vegetable, but if the veggies in your bag are a bit less odd, it's a good way to dress them too.

From my kitchen, where no vegetable is left untamed, to yours,

Cara, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipe**

Steamed Vegetables in Curry Sauce

Serves 2

Ingredients
2 kohlrabi
1/2 small white cabbage
2 teaspoons olive oil
1 small onion
1/2 cup plain, low-fat yogurt
salt
1 tablespoon curry powder
cayenne

Separate the kohlrabi stems from the bulbs. With a paring knife, peel the bulbs, then cut them into 1/4-inch slices. Trim the greens from the stems and wash them well. Cut the cabbage into rough squares, about 1 1/2-inches wide.

Bring an inch or two of water to boil in a large pot. If you have a steamer, arrange the kohlrabi bulb slices on it and set it in the pot. If you don't, just throw the slices in, and either way, put the lid on. Steam for about 5 minutes, then add the cabbage and the kohlrabi greens. Let the greens wilt and the cabbage become tender, about 5-8 more minutes, then remove from the pot and drain if you weren't using a steamer. Set aside.

Meanwhile, make the curry sauce: Saute the onion in olive oil until translucent, then add the curry powder, a pinch of salt, and the cayenne. Let cook for a moment, until fragrant, then stir in the yogurt and a few teaspoons of water to thin and smooth. Keep the mixture simmering over medium-low heat until slightly reduced, then taste for salt and pour over the waiting vegetables, tossing to coat. Serve at room temperature or cold.

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Big Girls, Test Kitchen: Guacamole

DISH: Guacamole
MAIN INGREDIENTS: Avocado, Cilantro, Lime

I think with perhaps the exception of a fried egg, guacamole is the dish I’ve made the most in my lifetime. It started as a summer tradition with my mother, but slowly, as I began honing my tricks of the trade in kitchens beyond my mom's—entertaining friends in high school, college, and beyond—I discovered that mashed-up avocado is a foolproof and simple crowd pleaser. Even at parties where I've stuck my nose up at the host’s bland, under-spiced, under-seasoned attempts, the bowl of guac would still be licked clean by the end of the night.

This enthusiasm can lead to a false sense of success, which can lead to quite an ego when it comes to guacamole. Everyone always believes that his recipe is the best, which is quite a thing to claim since the ingredients only vary by one or two changes at most. Some people swear by a hint of cumin, others by lemon over lime, pickled jalapeño rather than fresh, or red onion as opposed to yellow (I’ve begun using shallots).

I’m not going to make any claims here. After all, guacamole is really a matter of personal taste. But over the years I’ve landed on the winning equation for myself. In the early days, I left out the tomatoes since my fruit phobia was in full gear and, well, I thought they were weird. I was converted when I realized how the tomato juices thinned the avocado slightly making it all the more velvety and adding a brightness that just screamed summer.

For me, the key to a great guacamole is in the texture. You don’t want an avocado puree, uniform squares, or unwieldy chunks. My mother’s potato masher always did the job perfectly, but when I moved into my apartment and didn’t have one, I figured out a way to improvise, roughly chopping half, and mushing the rest with the back of a knife.

I make no promises of perfection, but I do invite you to try my version of guacamole, and can more or less guarantee that when you do, the bowl will end up clean. In the comments, we'd love to hear how you make yours!

From my kitchen, where an avocado is at the center of it all, to yours,

Phoebe THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipe**

Guacamole
Makes 8-10 servings

Ingredients
2 cloves garlic, pushed through a press, or finely minced with salt
1 ½ limes, juiced
1 cup cilantro leaves, chopped
½ small red onion, finely diced
2 medium plum tomatoes, finely chopped
5 pickled jalapeños, minced
7 avocados
1 tsp salt (to taste)
¼ tsp cayenne pepper

In a medium mixing bowl, combine the garlic, the juice of 1 lime, cilantro, red onion, tomatoes, and jalapenos. Stir to combine.

Wait to add the avocado until (at most) an hour or so before serving. Halve the avocados, and with a large kitchen knife, remove the pit by wedging your knife into it and twisting. Reserve 4 pits. Take a large spoon and separate the avocado from its skin. You should have two large halves of clean, skinless avocado.

If you have a masher, add the avocados to the bowl and mash together with the other ingredients. If not, roughly chop half of the avocado and add it to the bowl. With the second half, roughly chop again. With the back of your knife, smash the pieces of avocado against the cutting board until it becomes a coarse mush. This will be a little messy, but the result will be a great texture, smooth but not overly pureed.

Using your knife, scrape all the avocado mush from the cutting board and add to the bowl. Mix together using a fork, and mix with additional large chunks of avocado until you obtain your desired consistency.

Squeeze the remaining half a lime over the top and submerge the four pits just below the surface of the mixture. Cover tightly in plastic wrap. This should prevent the guacamole from browning for at least an hour or two before serving.

Before serving, remove the pits, mix together, and taste for seasoning.

In my family, we tend to use guac as a condiment and add it to, well, just about anything. Above, some mixed greens, a healthy slice of frittata, and a generous dollop of guacamole.
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Recipe Flash: Summer Squash Angel Hair

We hope very much that you get sick of summer squash's ridiculously plentiful bounty before you get sick of us blogging about it. Still, before you write us off as overdoing it (there's chips, sautées, and cake, already we know), we offer up this simple pasta, in which the grated summer squash (from Cara's shopping bag) has a rich, melt-in-your-mouth quality, only bettered by the addition of butter—rather than olive oil—garlic, and freshly grated Parmesan cheese. It is truly very good.

From my kitchen, albeit small, to yours,

Cara, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

Summer Squash Angel Hair
Serves 2

Ingredients
4 ounces angel hair pasta
2 teaspoons butter
1/2 small onion
2 garlic cloves, pressed
2 medium summer squash or zucchini, grated
salt
pepper
pinch cayenne pepper
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese

Bring a large pot of water to the boil.

Meanwhile, melt the butter in a medium saucepan. Add the onion and cook, stirring, until the onion is translucent, 5-10 minutes. Put in the pinch of cayenne pepper and of salt, then add the grated zucchini and the garlic and cook over medium heat until reduced, about 8 minutes. Sprinkle with pepper and a little more salt and turn the heat to low.

When the water is boiling, add a teaspoon of salt and the angel hair and cook according to package directions (angel hair cooks quite quickly - it will take only 2-3 minutes). Drain, reserving 1/3 cup of pasta water.

Add the angel hair and pasta water to the summer squash and turn the heat to high. Let the whole thing reduce, then scoop into a serving bowl and sprinkle with the cheese. Serve immediately.

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What's in the Bag: We Have A Banner!

where meals really come together: the shopping bag

Cara’s Shopping Bag: Summer Squash, Parmesan, Onion, Kohlrabi
Phoebe’s Shopping Bag: Tomato, Avocado, Cilantro, Cucumber

It’s been a long time coming, but finally, we have a banner. Quite frankly, we’ve been a little Goldilocks about the whole thing. Over the last six months we’ve tossed around many ideas and design iterations, some good, some bad, but in the end, not one until now, felt just right. For this beautiful, final version, we have to thank Tom (his website is TypeShapeColor) for being patient with our indecision, and offering the endless options and creativity that fueled it.

We would usually round out this post with some sort of tasty token of appreciation courtesy of Cara’s oven. But since it’s too hot to bake, we thought we’d try something a little different.

In the spirit of our new imagery, we got to thinking about the contents of our shopping bags—plastic, paper, or tote. In a lot of ways, our culinary livelihood as quarter-life cooks is defined and confined by the contents of those bags. Our recipes begin with what we buy, and then they evolve through an endless debate on how to use up fresh produce and supplement enough stock pantry items so that our weekly ingredients fit both within our bag and our budgets.

Resourceful strategies aside, what we choose for our bag is mainly a product of our individual tastes. Its contents say a lot about who we are as cooks, revealing many idiosyncrasies. Cara might come home with blueberries, veggie sausage, and kohlrabi, Phoebe with basil, Merguez, and cherry tomatoes. While you'll never find meat in one, you just as rarely find fruit in the other. Our pantries and our fridges do sometimes contain similar ingredients, but it’s what we use to spice up those essentials that leads to two different, if equally delicious, approaches.

Yet sometimes, it’s a breath of fresh air to step into someone else’s kitchen and, in doing so, step away from the staples of our shopping bags and our pantries. Which is why we’ll be asking, oh so kindly, for a little assistance from all of you out there. Please open your shopping bags to us and share three or four fresh ingredients you will be working with this week. We will then, in turn, adopt some of your shopping bags (two each) to our kitchens, cooking your ingredients in our style. We'll post the resulting recipes at the end of next week. Of course, we need to work through ours first, so please see our lists above and stay tuned for what’s been happening to them in our kitchens during these next few days.

There is no vegetable too obscure (hello, kohlrabi?) or animal part too gnarly, though if it’s meat at all, Cara is likely to take a pass. But, that said, we'd prefer not to be appalled or nauseated by what you've bought, so please, unless you would actually like to try tomatoes stuffed with gummy bears, be honest about your recent market finds—or any hypothetical combination you would like to pick up if only there existed the right recipe out there to guide you.

So, to recap:

•go shopping (or imagine what you'd have bought if you'd gone shopping)

•submit your list of four items in the comment section below—ones most exciting, unusual, or emblematic of your cravings

•we'll choose two "bags" and each go at them, interpreting your ingredients with our tools

•stay tuned next week for the recipes we've created

Though we'll be the ones in the kitchen, this time you supply the creativity. We so look forward to what you come home with.

From our kitchen, where it all begins with a bag, to yours,

Phoebe and Cara, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOKS

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Cooking For Others: Good Riddance, Cubemate

Farewell Enchiladas, packed tighter than my co-workers

EVENT: Onto Greener Pastures
VENUE: Cara's Apartment
PARTY SIZE: Same size as the cube, aka 4
MENU: Nachos; Enchiladas; Raspberry Sorbet Squares

Sitting in a cube breeds a quick, peculiar intimacy. Before you know, say, where your cubemates hail from or what they like to do over the weekend, you know how fast they type, where they prefer to shop online, what their favorite YouTube videos are, how often their cell phones ring, how loudly and long they gab on the phone, the scent of what they eat for lunch, and what time they start thinking about what to eat for dinner.

I don't really remember how our (my, Christina, and Junie's) fondly departed fourth cubemate, Oliver, used to type. I know he LOVED the Mother Lover video from SNL because I'd often find him singing along to it first thing in the morning; that he was sort of opposed to online shopping to begin with and so didn't have a favorite site; and that he chatted on the phone to his authors, siblings, and friends with way more gusto than you'd have thought a chill dude like him could muster up.

As for lunch, he would go to the chili, burrito, and soup places with Junie, and as for after lunch, his talk would quickly turn to dinner (training for the marathon made him hungry, I guess). So I count among the things I do know about Oliver that he used to go to La Tacqueria, a delicious Park Slope establishment, several times a week back when he lived in the neighborhood. I still go there, and so does Junie, and nothing used to make Oliver more jealous than my bringing in a leftover half burrito for lunch. In fact, I could pretty much count on the fact that the second I wedged my fork into my slightly soggy tortilla he'd call over the cube wall, "Cara, got any food?" Oh, the good old days.

So, for Oliver's cubemate-centric going-away dinner, it was clear to me that if I wasn't going to have the party catered by Domino's pizza (another much talked-about fave of the cube men), I was going to be making Mexican. Nachos were first on the list, but nachos do not a dinner make, so I supplemented them with enchiladas—both chicken and black bean—and Mexican beer.

From my kitchen, whose yield eventually makes its way to the cube, to yours,

Cara, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipes**

Enchiladas
Serves 5

Ingredients
10 small flour tortillas
1/2 purchased rotisserie chicken, taken off the bone and shredded
1 can black beans
3 tablespoons canola oil
1 onion, thinly sliced
1 clove garlic, minced
1 1/2 teaspoons smoked paprika
handful Swiss Chard or other green, chopped
1 cup corn kernels (frozen is fine)
1 tablespoon adobo, from chiles in adobo sauce
1 teaspoon chili powder
1 teaspoon ground cumin
3/4 cup canned tomatoes
1 tablespoon brown sugar
1/2 cup shredded cheese, preferably a mix of sharp cheddar and jack
salt

For the beans and enchilada sauce:

In a frying pan, sauté the onions in the canola oil over medium-low heat until translucent. Add the garlic and cook a few minutes until softened. Scrape half of this mixture into a medium saucepan.

In the original pan, add the smoked paprika, and the can of black beans (don't bother draining). Cook until the beans' liquid is reduced, then add in the greens. Once they've wilted, turn off the heat and set the whole skillet aside. Add salt to taste—be careful though, as canned beans can e salty.

In the other saucepan, add adobo, chili powder, cumin, tomatoes, brown sugar, and a cup of water to the saucepan. Bring to a boil and cook until reduced by half, about 20 minutes. Cool slightly, then puree in a blender, taste for salt, and set aside.

To make the enchiladas:

Up to 1 day in advance, assemble the enchiladas: roll about a 1/2 cup of shredded chicken and a few tablespoons of corn in half of the tortillas, folding in the ends so the filling stays in. Fill the remaining tortillas with 1/2 cup black beans and a few teaspoons of corn. Arrange in a 9x13" baking dish.

When ready to serve, preheat the over to 350°F. Pour the sauce evenly over the whole pan, then sprinkle with the cheese. Bake 15-20 minutes, until the enchiladas are heated through and the cheese is melted. Serve with sour cream and/or rice and a simple green salad.


Raspberry Sorbet Squares
Makes 16 squares

Ingredients
6 tablespoons butter
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 egg yolk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1 1/4 cups flour
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
pinch salt
1 pint raspberry sorbet
1 1/2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips
1/4 cup water

Preheat the oven to 375°F. Lightly grease a 9x9" baking pan.

Cream the butter with the sugar. Add the egg yolk and vanilla and stir to combine. In a separate bowl, combine the flour, baking soda, and salt. Add the dry ingredients to the butter mixture, and stir to combine.

Using your fingers, press the dough evenly into the pan, and bake until golden and slightly pulling away from the edges. Set aside to cool completely.

Let the sorbet melt to a spreadable consistency, then, working quickly, press it onto the cooled cookie crust. Smooth the top as much as you can, but don't let the sorbet turn to liquid. Freeze a few hours, until solid.

In the microwave, melt the chocolate with the water, checking at 30 second intervals, until just melted. Spread evenly across the raspberry sorbet layer, return to the freezer, and let cool until the chocolate is hardened. At least 2 hours before serving, turn the whole thing out of the pan and cut into 16 squares. Return to the freezer until ready to eat.

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Cooking For Others: Julia & The Servantless Quarter-Life Cook

EVENT: Julie & Julia Supper Club
VENUE: Phoebe's Apartment, Flatiron
PARTY SIZE: 10
TYPE: Celebratory Foodie Feast
MENU: Heirloom Tomato Bruschetta; Boeuf Bourguignon; Asparagus with Tarragon Vinaigrette; Organic New Potatoes with Butter and Chives; Reine de Saba (Chocolate Almond Cake)

When Julie & Julia opened last weekend nationwide, you could almost hear the mock multi-octave “Bon Appetit” echoing through the Union Square farmers' market. Though the media positioned the film as every self-declared foodie’s wet dream and, in the process, did its best to make me sick of it before the opening credits even began, I would have felt hypocritical had I failed to buy my Saturday night ticket and stake out a seat middle row center, two hours in advance.

Truth be told, I couldn’t wait. But my justification also had a lot to do with having agreed to host a Julia Child-themed dinner for my friend Wendy’s monthly Supper Club. So Sunday afternoon a group of ten food-obsessed friends, including a girl who actually worked with Ephron during the shoot, got together to go see the movie while I slaved away trying to master Julia’s cinematic dishes in time for their arrival.

That morning, I had made the obligatory pilgrimage to Barnes and Noble to get my very own copy of JC’s bible only to discover that the single copy still left on the island of Manhattan was all the way on the Upper West Side. I decided to leave my shopping list, and menu by extension, to my limited knowledge of French cooking and let the worldwide web fill in the rest when I got home. Wendy seemed a little wary of this plan, but soon we were filling baskets with multi-colored heirloom tomatoes for the mouth-watering bruschetta Powell makes in the film and asking the butcher to hand over 5 pounds of Bourguignon-worthy beef chuck.

The one thing still left up in the air was dessert. I remembered seeing a recipe in Bon Appetit for the chocolate-almond cake Julie and her husband had lovingly smeared across one another’s face in the movie and figured if it was that good, I had to make it.

Later, as the beef was in the oven, and I was about to throw myself out the window (great breeze) for having decided to make stew in August, I reluctantly pulled out my magazine to tackle the cake. Perhaps it was that I hadn’t actually followed a recipe in a while, or the fact that I haven’t baked anything in an eternity, but I had failed to read the instructions well enough to realize, holy F*^# (in Julie’s words), I don’t have an egg-beater, electric or otherwise. Denial turned into full-on fear, but I had no choice other than to channel Julia’s 6’2’’ brawn and keep on whisking.

Before this cake, I had actually never tried one of Julia’s recipes. Somehow since moving to my fourth-floor walk-up I had always relegated her recipes to the portion of my cookbook shelf left for dishes too impractical and time-consuming to summon on a regular basis. After all, the average servantless American housewife of 1961 was someone with considerably more time on her hands, not to mention space. When I had the leisure to turn down shortcuts and begin a project, then I would finally get out her book.

Five hours, and four mixing bowls later, my beef and cake were ready for the crowd. Even though I had retold my tale of almond cake anxiety over dinner, my pulse still raced as the supper club members took their first bite of dessert. I heard a dull “mmm” across the coffee table, and then my friend Alan exclaimed: “wow, Phoebe, you really are a terrible baker.” I could taste a hint of sarcasm, but took a bite myself just to make sure. The cake was delicious.

It was probably the proudest culinary moment my small kitchen has seen. I realize now that there’s probably some happy medium that we servantless quarter-life cooks can derive from Child’s teachings: we can trade the mortar and pestle for other less cumbersome, more useful electronic devices (mainly, my cuisinart mini-prep), cut the occasional corner or, better, choose accessible recipes that don’t lead us outside our basic abilities. But at the end of the day, should we choose to make a perfect Reine de Saba, there’s someone there with the gusto to show us how, even if it does take 25 minutes to beat the eggs.

When the time is right for Julia, the sky is the limit, or at least, my ten-foot kitchen ceilings are. And if Julie Powell can cook through her entire book of complicated cakes and confections, then with this blog as my witness, so can I. That is, if my copy ever comes in the mail.

From my kitchen, where I am nursing a Julia Child-induced baker’s elbow, to yours,

Phoebe, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

the Supper-Club Critics, patiently weathering my baking anxiety

**Recipes**

Heirloom Tomato Bruschetta
Makes 10-12 pieces

In the film, Julie Powell fixes her husband (pre-blog) a plate of tomato bruschetta that just makes your mouth water. Her trick: frying the bread into crispy olive oil-saturated bliss. As delicious as this looked, it didn’t really seem like an efficient technique when tackling appetizers for 10. Below are two versions for preparing the bread, my way and Julie’s.

Ingredients
4 heirloom tomatoes (preferably multi-colored), seeded and roughly chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
2 tbsp chopped basil
½ tbsp balsamic vinegar
1 tsp sugar
olive oil
¼ tsp crushed red pepper flakes
salt
1 rustic loaf of country or Italian bread, cut into ¾ inch slices and halved

Combine tomatoes, garlic, basil, balsamic, sugar, and a glug of olive oil in a medium mixing bowl. Season with salt and red pepper. Set aside to marinate.


Option 1: Julie (recommend this technique if you are halving the recipe)

Coat a large skillet with a thin layer of olive oil. Get the oil nice and hot, and add the bread (in batches if necessary, you can fit about 4 at a time). Cook on both sides until lightly browned and toasty. Add additional oil and repeat for the remaining slices.

Option 2:

Preheat the oven to broil (you can also use a flat bed toaster if you have one).

Arrange the bread slices on a cookie sheet. Brush both sides with olive oil. Toast in the oven for a few minutes per side, until golden brown and crisp. Allow to cool enough to handle, the rub each slice with a raw clove of garlic to infuse it with flavor.

Using a slotted spoon (you don’t want the bread to get too soggy), top each slice with a generous amount of the tomato mixture.


Boeuf Bourguignon
Makes 10 servings

Since we quarter-lifers today don’t necessarily have as much time or space as the average American home cook of Julia’s era, I mixed and matched her techniques with a simplified version of this dish in Ina Garten’s Barefoot Contessa Cookbook. The ingredient ratios were also adjusted to fit my crowd of 10.

Ingredients
12 ounces cured bacon, diced
5lbs chuck beef, cut into 2 inch cubes
2lbs carrots, peeled and sliced into 1 inch pieces
3 Vidalia onions, diced
4 tbsp flour
1 bottle red wine (Cote du Rhone)
1 quart beef stock
2 tbsp tomato paste
4 cloves garlic, pushed through a press
1 tbsp fresh thyme leaves
1 bay leaf
3 tbsp unsalted butter
2lbs button mushrooms, stems trimmed and quartered
2lbs frozen pearl onions

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

In a large Dutch oven, sauté the bacon in 1 tbsp of olive oil until brown and crispy, about 3 to 5 minutes. Remove the bacon with a slotted spoon to a plate.

Pat the beef dry with paper towels—this is the major Julia-ism that defines the perfection of this dish. If the meat is not dry, it will not brown properly. When the oil is very hot, add the beef in batches, making sure not to crowd the pan. Brown the beef on all sides and remove to the plate with the bacon. Repeat until all the beef is browned.

Pour out about half of the oil in the pot. Add the onions and carrots and sauté until brown and slightly caramelized, about 5 minutes. Add the beef and bacon back to the pan and season generously with salt and pepper. Sprinkle 3 tablespoons of flour over the meat, and toss until the beef is evenly coated. Place the pot uncovered in the oven for 4 minutes. Remove, toss the meat to redistribute, and return to the oven for another 4 minutes. (This was one key step in Julia’s recipe that made the meat increasingly brown and crispy).

Turn the oven back down to 325 degrees, and place the pot over a medium flame. Add the wine and enough stock to barely cover the meat. Stir in the tomato paste, garlic, thyme, and bay leaf. Taste for seasoning, and add any extra salt as necessary. Turn the flame to high, and bring the mixture to a simmer. Cover the pot and place it in the oven for about 2 ½ hours, or until the meat is fork tender.

While the meat is cooking, sauté the mushrooms in 1 tablespoon of butter until browned and tender. Set aside.

When the beef is ready, remove to the stove-top over a medium flame. Sprinkle 1 tablespoon of flour over the stew and stir in 2 tablespoons of butter. (This will thicken the stew and save you the trouble of straining the mixture and simmering it aggressively in a separate pan as Julia does). Add the frozen onions and the mushrooms and bring the mixture to a boil. Simmer for 10 to 15 minutes, until the stew has thickened slightly and the flavors have intensified. Taste for seasoning and add salt and pepper as necessary.
Serve the meat with a large piece of torn crusty baguette, buttery potatoes with herbs, and a light, vinegary vegetable like the asparagus below.

Asparagus with Tarragon Vinaigrette
Makes 4 servings (I doubled it for this party)

I improvised this dish using my newfound Julia technique of tying the asparagus into bundles, and finished it with a tried and true tarragon vinaigrette I often use with simply prepared vegetables.
Ingredients
1lb asparagus
1 tbsp Dijon mustard
1 tbsp white vinegar
1 tbsp tarragon
¼ cup olive oil
Salt
Kitchen Twine

Bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Wash the asparagus and separate into two bundles. Tie each bundle together with a piece of kitchen twine. Once secure, chop off the bottom inch of the asparagus. When the water has come to a rolling bowl, place the bundles in the pot. Blanch the asparagus until bright green and barely tender, about 2-5 minutes depending on the size of the asparagus. Be careful not to over cook.

Remove the bundles to an ice bath, or rinse under cold water in a colander until cool. Arrange on a plate or platter. Sprinkle with salt.

Meanwhile, combine the mustard, vinegar, tarragon and salt in a small bowl. Gently pour the olive oil in a thin stream into the mixture while whisking briskly with a whisk or fork. When the mixture is fully emulsified, pour the vinaigrette over the asparagus.

Serve at room temperature as a light side dish.

New Potatoes with Butter and Chives
Makes 6 side dish servings
Ingredients
2 ½ lb new potatoes
2 tbsp butter
2 tbsp finely chopped chives
salt

Bring a large pot of heavily salted water to boil. Add the potatoes (whole or halved) to the water and cook until a knife easily slips in and out. Remove to a colander and rinse under cold water to stop the cooking. When cool enough to handle, cut the potatoes in half, and toss with the butter, chives, and a generous sprinkle of salt. Taste for seasoning, and serve warm or at room temperature.

Reine de Saba (Chocolate Almond Cake)
Makes 1 cake, about 8 servings


This cake was featured in the August issue of Bon Appetit as the recommended dessert for a Julia & Julia dinner party. I also learned that it was one of the cast’s favorite Julia creations on set, if Amy Adams smearing the chocolate confection all over her face was any indication.

You can follow the recipe here, as I made very few alterations.

One thing to note: I do not own an electric mixer, nor do I possess the strength of Julia Child in my gangly 5’7’’ frame. It took me 30 minutes to get the egg whites to form soft peaks, and I almost gave up several times along the way. If you don’t want to wake up the next morning with baker’s elbow and a sink full of dirty dishes (this recipe requires 4 bowls), then I would choose another dessert from the book. That said, if you follow the directions exactly, the results are foolproof. Take it from a baking novice like me.

la pièce de resistance

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