Recipe Flash: Pancakes and Pomegranate

I have fond memories of eating pancakes as a kid. As an adult, I'm terribly picky about them, and I don't usually order pancakes off a breakfast menu if I can help it. But at the resort my family often goes to over Christmas, there are amazing, enticing pancakes, and I'm unable to resist them. These are unusual, ricotta pancakes cooked thin and dense, and served with passion fruit syrup and a pool of butter. Recently I woke up craving these particular pancakes. I didn’t have ricotta in the house, but yogurt made a great substitution for it, as did the tangy fresh pomegranate seeds for the passion fruit. Since these pancakes are light on the flour (actually, sort of light on ingredients in general), the end result is airy, not-too-sweet, and satisfying.

From my kitchen, albeit small, to yours,

Cara, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

Yogurt Pancakes with Pomegranate
Makes 2 pancakes

I happen to have been given a pomegranate as a gift. If you don't have one, try berries, banana slices, or sauteed apples.

Ingredients
1 egg, separated
1 egg white
1/2 cup yogurt
3 tablespoons flour
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon sugar
pinch of salt
1/2 teaspoon butter
1/4 cup pomegranate seeds (or other fruit)
maple syrup

Separate the egg. Combine the 1 egg yolk in a small bowl with the yogurt, flour, and vanilla extract. Stir well with a fork.

In a larger bowl, beat the 2 egg whites, sugar, and salt until they are fluffy and hold a soft peak.

Scrape about a third of the egg whites into the egg yolk-yogurt mixtures and stir to lighten. Very gently, fold in the rest of the egg whites, trying not to deflate them.

Melt the butter in a small nonstick pan over medium-low heat. When the pan is hot, add half of the batter. Cook 3-4 minutes, until brown, then flip and cook 3-4 minutes on the reverse side. Repeat with the remainder of the batter.

Top with pomegranate seeds, syrup, and a thin slice of butter. Serve with syrup.
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Cooking For Others: Fun-Employment Brunch

EVENT: "Welcome to Fun-Employment" Seminar
VENUE: Phoebe’s Apartment, Flatiron
PARTY SIZE: 2
TYPE: Working Weekday Lunch
MENU: “Eggs in Pipérade” Pizzas with Crispy Prosciutto; Deli Coffee (Mark)

Since quitting my job in August, it’s been a little bit difficult to find ways of creating structure in my daily life, especially when all I ever want to do at any given time is cook. But I’ve found that to maximize productivity, and to minimize my guilt for not being in a dark cubical like the rest of my friends, I must stay away from my apartment during daylight hours at all costs. Still, I find it hard not to indulge from time to time, especially when my stomach starts growling at the coffee shop (where a panini costs $8), and I realize that I have half a loaf of ciabatta and some pipérade sauce in a Tupperware container from the night before that are just begging to be part of my lunch.

My friend Mark, the guest at this particular workweek brunch, explained that this daily debate is a distinct sign that I am still in Phase 2 of unemployment. Phase 2 is a stage that begins with denial (my long vacation on Martha’s Vineyard) and slowly transforms into a constant, disorienting feeling of guilt.

Mark has been unemployed for over a year now, and he explained to me over breakfast pizzas just how his emotional battle with daytime freedom unfolded.

Mark’s Urban Leisure Stage began in DC, right after being let go from his job in real estate development. The free time inspired him to make the most of his city and tackle his To-Do list of weekend activities that once had required too much energy—museums, monuments, obscure restaurants, and lots and lots of reading on benches. There is a feeling of urgency in this stage, he explained, which makes it inherently short-lived.

As his severance package dwindled, Mark decided to lead a less wasteful life by moving back to his hometown of Kansas City and into his parent’s house. Thus began the Guilt Phase, which was only heightened by the environment, his childhood bedroom. Job hopelessness and the onset of Midwestern claustrophobia led to The Escapism Phase—Mark’s fleeing for South America. I met Mark right before he left for this epic adventure, and I had never before encountered a more well-adjusted unemployed soul.

Fast forward six months and four phases, and Mark has taken a risk and moved to New York to pursue, intensely, Phase 7: The I-Really-Really-Need-to-Get-a-Job Phase. To hear about the latest developments in his job prospects and get advice about my new life without any, I invited Mark over to sample the latest product of my cooking urges: “Eggs in Pipérade” Pizzas. While we ate, we embraced our stereotype by watching daytime television and discussing which cartoons could make a good Broadway production, should Mark ever move onto Phase 8, The Independent Creative Phase, since his idea to write Home Alone: The Musical was foiled back during the Leisure Phase.

I have faith that Mark will soon be among the ranks of Midtown Manhattan drones, and I will have to find a new well-adjusted unemployed soul to share my guilt-ridden weekday creations with. But if not, you just might end up seeing Dora The Explorer: The Musical coming soon to a theater near you.

From my kitchen, where unemployment produces workweek pizzas, to yours,

Phoebe, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipe**

“Eggs in Pipérade” Pizzas with Crispy Prosciutto
Makes 2 servings

“Eggs in Pipérade” is a breakfast classic from Basque country—a smoky tomato and red pepper sauce baked together in the oven with sunny side-up eggs. For me, brunch is not a complete meal without some form of melted cheese, and toast with which to eat it. This recipe combines all of my favorite breakfast ingredients—eggs, bacon, cheese, and crusty bread—and transforms them into a brunch version of my favorite dish: pizza. The hot paprika in the pipérade adds another flavor twist to classic pizza sauce, and lightly pan-frying the prosciutto creates a new type of upscale, elegant breakfast meat. Most importantly, baking the eggs in the tomato mixture allows the yoke to remain runny, while the whites set right into the sauce, much like they would atop a round brick-oven pizza in Italy.

Ingredients

For the Pipérade (adapted from Gourmet):

1 large onion, diced
2 red bell peppers, finely diced
olive oil
1 teaspoon hot paprika
pinch cayenne
1 garlic clove, minced
1 28 ounce can diced tomatoes with juice
1 tbsp basil, julienned

For the pizzas:

3-4 large eggs
¼ cup Parmesan shavings
1 loaf ciabatta
1 clove garlic
1/2 lb fontina (or other mild melting cheese like Bel Paese, un-aged Manchego, or Monterey Jack), thinly sliced
3 slices prosciutto
1 tbsp basil, julienned (optional)

In a large skillet over medium heat, sauté the onion and red pepper in enough olive oil to coat the pan. Cook until the vegetables have softened, about 6 minutes. Add the paprika, cayenne, garlic, and cook for another 2 minutes, until the mixture is very fragrant. Season generously with salt and pepper, and carefully stir in the tomatoes. Simmer until the sauce has thickened and the vegetables are very tender, about 5 minutes. Turn off the heat and taste again for seasoning.

(optional) In a food processor, puree half of the mixture. Combine with the remaining sauce and the basil and set aside. This can be made up to a week in advance.

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

Spread the piperade in a shallow baking or gratin dish. With the back of a spoon, create holes for the eggs (as spaced out as possible). Crack each egg into one of the holes. Place dish in the oven and cook until the whites have almost set, 7 minutes. Remove from oven and sprinkle with half of the parmesan shavings. Return to the oven for another minute for the parmesan to melt. Set aside.While the eggs are cooking, cut the ciabatta in half length-wise. Brush the bottom half with olive oil and save the top for another use. Place on a baking sheet and toast in the oven until golden brown. Remove the crusty bread and rub it with the garlic clove. Arrange the fontina slices on the bread and return to the oven. Bake until the cheese has melted, about 2 minutes.

For the prosciutto, heat a thin layer of olive oil in a non-stick skillet. When the oil is hot, add the prosciutto slices in one layer. Fry on both sides until each slice has become paper thin and crispy. Set aside to drain on a paper towel. When cool enough to handle, crumble into rustic pieces.

To serve, spoon the egg and tomato mixture on the ciabatta so that the eggs are arranged in one neat line. Garnish with the remaining Parmesan shavings, crispy prosciutto, and basil. Cut into two pieces and serve immediately.
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Cooking For Others: When You're Starving

the boys, back from temple

Many of us will be taking today, Yom Kippur, off from work to sit in temple, pray, and do everything in our power not to think about food. So we too have abstained from posting mouth-watering pictures and recipes because, well, that would just be cruel, and it would give us yet another negligence to atone for.

But it’s hard not to acknowledge the strange culinary challenge that this holiday presents. At the end of morning services, many Jewish women return home to begin preparing the break fast meal, a hodgepodge of favorites like whitefish salad, kugel, and brisket (which, at my Aunt Jennifer’s table, puts everything else to shame). After a healthy appetizer of one or more bagels piled high with lox, cream cheese, tomatoes, capers, and red onions, I would summon my stomach’s second reserve and dig into a mound of Aunt Jen’s brisket, leaving me dizzy, tired, and in need of a bulldozer to transfer me to the car.

Sometimes it seems my faith is summed up by the memory of this particular plate of brisket.

When I went to college, the High Holiday services at the University Hillel felt a little empty. But perhaps this was because I knew I’d be breaking fast at the campus pizza joint at sundown. My senior year, with a ramshackle kitchen at my disposal, I decided to take one for the team, invoke the culinary prowess of Aunt Jen, and prepare a break fast meal for a group of my observing friends.

In true amateur fashion, I began my preparations for the meal during the afternoon, when I was already long underway with my fast. The smell of sautéing onion and garlic tortured my senses, and I began chewing a stick of gum when I instinctively went to taste the sauce before bathing the meat in it. Luckily, I had found a recipe similar to Aunt Jen’s, which I had made before, and taken some liberties with, but I was still a little worried about the result. It occurred to me that when you can’t taste as you go, it’s best to stick with a tried and true, age-old recipe, unless you're wise enough to do all the cooking the day before.

Even though it was made while I was starving, my break fast brisket back in 2006 turned out just as good as the ones of my memories. When a meal is gobbled up as fast as mine was that day, I got to understand the true feeling of home-cooking success—it's a little like having your joke laughed at, when you weren't sure it was funny—even if I knew deep down anything would taste good after 24 hours of starvation.

From my kitchen, where I am starving right now, to yours,

Phoebe, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK
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Cooking For Others: Missing Menus

DISH: Black Bean Cakes
EVENT: Caitlyn's Birthday
MENU IDEAS:
Appetizer / Black Bean Cakes
Main Course / Carne Asada or Baja Fish Tacos or Chipotle Vegetarian Chili or Mexican Shepherd's Pie
Salad / Spinach Salad with Corn, Avocado, and Cilantro Citrus Vinaigrette
Dessert / Cinnamon-Mocha Dulce de Leche Bites

We got a fabulous suggestion from a reader the other day to add in pairing suggestions for dishes that are not written about in the context of a meal or party. “As someone who is not quite as seasoned at putting meals together,” said Jenny, “when I cook a new recipe, I've started to ask myself, other than the meal that you've presented, what else would this be good with?” This is an awesomely valid question, and one that we don’t always address here on BGSK. Most of the time our Recipe Flashes are not stand-alone dishes, and have ended up in this category because they were borrowed from a meal that had no greater (narrative) purpose other than to feed us.

These particular Bean Cakes, I’ve served several times as part of a cocktail party buffet. The last time, when this photo was taken, was for Caitlyn’s birthday where they stood alongside Curried Sweet Potato Quesadillas, and Siracha-Lime Chicken Sliders. It was a fabulous night of friends and food, but it was also over three months ago. For whatever reason, I never got around to writing about the party as a whole, even though I'm sure I could have found plenty of antics to flesh out a post. As it has for many a BGSK event, the moment to celebrate Caitlyn’s on the blog has definitely lapsed.

So here we are, with a recipe for some delicious Latin birthday bites, but without a context at the table. To offer one for these cakes, and a proper suggestion for all eager start-to-finish meal-makers like Jenny, see our menu suggestions above. These cakes are great as cocktail fare, if you, too, are missing a context, but they also make a great appetizer for a Mexican or Southwestern themed dinner. For this, a great main course would be Carne Asada, Chipotle Vegetarian Chili , or Baja Fish Tacos, where you can use the crema on both elements! Alongside, a simple salad with Cilantro Citrus Vinaigrette; for dessert, some crunchy, candy-loaded cookies, and you've got a meal.

Please look for these menu pairings in posts to come, as we formulate ways for you to enjoy our menu-less dishes as one aspect of a delicious and complete meal.

From my kitchen, albeit small, to yours,

Phoebe, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

p.s. We love love love your comments and suggestions! Please continue to contact us at biggirlssmallkitchen[at]gmail[dot]com or drop us a line in the comment section of the blog.

**Recipe**

Black Bean Cakes with Mango-Lime Crema
Makes about 20 cakes

These cakes are very versatile. They can be pan-fried or baked, depending on the texture you prefer. If you don’t want to take the time to make the crema, you can easily serve these with a dollop of Plain Jane sour cream.

Ingredients

For the cakes:

2 15oz cans black beans
2 garlic cloves
½ lime, juiced
1 tbsp sour cream
¼ cup cilantro leaves, chopped
1 cup fresh breadcrumbs
½ tsp cumin
½ tsp chili powder
¼ tsp cayenne
1 tsp salt

For the crema:

3/4 cup sour cream
½ mango, finely diced
1 tbsp shallot, chopped
1 tbsp lime juice
¼ tsp chili powder
¼ tsp salt

In a food processor, blend the garlic, 1 can of beans, lime juice, and sour cream until moderately smooth. Transfer to a mixing bowl and fold in the remaining ingredients. Mix until properly combined.

With clean hands, form the bean mixture into 1 inch balls and set aside on a plate. Chill the balls for twenty minutes or so.

For the crema, combine a third of the mango, and all remaining ingredients in a food processor. Transfer to a bowl an fold in the rest of the mango.

NOTE: everything up to this point can be prepared the night before.
Heat a skillet over a medium-high flame, adding a healthy layer of olive oil to coat the bottom of the pan. Once the bean cakes have cooled, remove from the refrigerator. Pan-fry the bean cakes, making sure to press each down into a round patty as you add them to the pan. Cook until dark brown and crispy on both sides. Reserve on a paper towel until cool enough to handle.

Alternatively, you can bake the cakes on a cookie sheet in a 400 degree oven for 20 minutes, or until they have crisped up (the outside will resemble falafel).

Arrange cakes on a platter, and serve room temperature with a dollop of mango-lime crema on top and some torn cilantro leaves for garnish.



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Recipe Flash: Two-Toned Pudding

I like serving pudding as a dessert, since there is something so particularly low-fuss about it. Whereas most desserts feel quite heavy after a solid meal, with pudding you control the amount of richness by choosing your milk product: anything from skim milk to coconut milk to cream will work. Though I'm a chocoholic by nature, I really do prefer vanilla pudding, and the layer of chocolate in these is actually a ganache rather than a pudding. The reason for it, besides pleasing the chocolate-lovers at the same time as their rivals, the vanillas, is that I was making these pudding cups on the very same jetlagged day as I made the vegetable soup of yesterday's post. I was doing anything and everything to stay awake, and if it meant making complicated pudding cups, then so be it, I figured.

From my kitchen, albeit small, to yours,

Cara, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

Two-Toned Pudding
Serves 4

I made this pudding dairy-free, since I was making it for Alex, who's lactose intolerant. I used soy creamer in the ganache, and a mix of soy creamer and almond milk in the pudding. The recipe below is how I usually make this pudding, when I'm serving dairy eaters. It takes really well to substitution.

Equipment: Four small ramekins, preferably glass

Ingredients

For the ganache:
2.5 ounces good dark chocolate
1 teaspoon instant espresso powder
1/4 cup cream or half and half
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
pinch of salt

For the vanilla pudding:
1/3 cup sugar
2 1/2 teaspoons cornstarch
2 cups milk, almond milk, half and half, or a mixture thereof
1 egg, beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Cut the chocolate very finely and put it into a bowl with the espresso powder. Heat the cream in the microwave until nearly boiling. It should be very hot to the touch. Pour it over the chocolate and let sit for 3 minutes, then stir vigorously with a spoon until the mixture is very smooth and creamy. Add the salt and vanilla, and stir to mix. Scrape the ganache out of the bowl and distribute it evenly among the ramekins. Refrigerate until set, about an hour.

Combine the cornstarch, sugar, salt, and about 1/2 cup of milk in a saucepan. Whisk until all lumps are gone, then add the rest of the milk or half and half. Stirconstantly but mellowly over medium heat until the mixture thickens, about five minutes. When you can make out the wake of your spoon, lower the heat and keep stirring until the pudding begins to simmer around the edges. When it does, leave it simmering for another minute without touching it.

Then scoop up about a cup of the thickened pudding and add it, 1/3 at a time, to the egg yolk/vanilla mixture, stirring constantly but still not vigorously. Remove the pudding from the heat, and slowly pour the egg-pudding mixture back into the pan, gently folding it in - don't beat it now or you risk thinning the pudding out.

Divide equally among the ganache-lined custard cups. Refrigerate until dessert time. Garnish with chocolate shavings or a few roasted almonds.
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Cooking for One: Soup and Fall, a Reprise

DISH: Asian Broth with Shredded Veggies and Noodles
TYPE: Nourishing, warming, etc.
MAIN INGREDIENTS: Veggies

I left the Northern Hemisphere a couple days before Labor Day this year. The weather had cooled a bit since the peak of summer, but it was still definitely warm out—salad and sandwich weather, if you will, not yet time for soup. I spent ten days in Mozambique visiting my dear friend Essie, in the Southern Hemisphere where the seasons are, of course, reversed, and they were coming out of winter. Though I'd brought a dorky sunhat and an even dorkier button-up shirt with built-in sunscreen, in fact the daytime heat gave way to these crisp evenings and mornings, and I had to wear a fleece and wool socks to sleep. The weather was also cool enough to be hospitable to a bit of soup eating, and I won't easily forget the amazingly flavorful fish soup that Essie's boyfriend, Chris, served us at Essie's birthday party as an appetizer. He also warmed some up for me later that night when we got home from the bars and I was busy making pancakes for Essie, who'd momentarily rejected the soup for something sweeter.

The soup is a tradition in Chris's family, influenced by their Portuguese background and the many places they have lived. It uses fish heads for maximum flavor, and it gets the rest of its depth from a variety of root vegetables native to Mozambique. Eventually I'll have a go at it, but for now I guess I have to be content with memories of its spicy, tangy, seafood-infused taste and health-giving properties.

By the time I returned to Brooklyn, after more than 24 hours of straight travel, I was craving soup again. It wasn't just that the city I had returned home to was suddenly autumnal, the days short and the breeze chilly, but also that I needed to recover from the carb-heavy diet of my trip. Much to the embarrassment of my laid-back, acclimated hosts, I refused to eat any vegetables that hadn't been thoroughly cooked, and I limited myself to meals of fresh local fish and French fries (I mean, I was pretty happy with this choice, admittedly). For the remainder of my menu, what I ate the most of were fluffy white Portuguese rolls spread thickly with margarine and guava jelly.

So on that first afternoon back in my apartment, while I fought to stay awake to a normal New York bedtime hour, I put a bunch of pots on my stove and made soup. Soup making was partly a response to the new season and partly an effort to detox from my trip. The second reason is why I added nourishing, purifying ingredients, like chopped garlic, ginger, and scallions. But the second reason is also what led me to make a slight—mainly aesthetic—gaffe:

I had bought a beautiful red cabbage, and I added lots of thin slices of it to the soup when it was partly done cooking. Before I knew it, my pale, mild soup had turned a dark shade of reddish-brown (well, the soy sauce helped with this), and I worried that though it smelled and tasted delicious, it had ceased to look at all appetizing. I panicked for a moment or two before I remembered that the soup was intended for my eyes and my palate only. Even so, when I reheated the soup to actually eat it, I found the color bothered me far less. And once I'd added noodles and various other condiments, I had almost convinced myself that this disaster, maybe, maybe, wasn't one.

From my kitchen, where big boiling pots are my welcome-home gift to myself, to yours,

Cara, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipe**

the culprit: red cabbage wound up defining my soup

Asian Broth with Shredded Veggies and Noodles
Serves 4

Ingredients
1 onion, thinly sliced
4 scallions, white and green parts, sliced

3 cloves of garlic minced

1 1/2 tablespoons of grated ginger

1 large carrot (or 1/2 cup baby carrots), cut into julienne

1/4 large cabbage (red or white), finely sliced
1/2 yellow pepper, julienned
1/2 cup fresh cilantro
2-3 tablespoons soy sauce
1 lime

For serving:

2 cups rice noodles cooked according to package directions (you can also use regular pasta—I like whole wheat angel hair here)
1-2 teaspoons sesame oil
Sriracha
Fresh cilantro

1-2 tablespoons toasted sesame seeds

Combine the onion, scallion, 2 cloves of garlic, ginger, and carrot in a large pot with 7 cups of water. Bring to a boil slowly. Simmer for 15 minutes, until the vegetables have wilted. Add the cabbage, pepper, cilantro, and 2 tablespoons of soy sauce, and simmer for another 15-20 minutes until all the vegetables are very tender. Remove from the heat and squeeze in the lime. Taste for seasonings, and add more soy sauce if you'd like.

When ready to serve, reheat the soup to nearly boiling. Distribute the rice noodles amongst four servings. Ladle the soup over each, then sprinkle with a few drops of sesame oil and a 1/2 teaspoon of sesame seeds. Garnish with a sprig of cilantro, and pass the sriracha around so people can add to taste.

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Big Girls, Global Kitchens: Spicy Thai Salads

EVENT: Best Beef Salad for Food52
TYPE: Thai Reminiscence
DISH: Spicy Thai Beef Salad with Mizuna

The summer going into my junior year of high school, I spent 6 weeks traveling around Thailand. Other Asian countries offered the same sort of immersion program I was on, so I really couldn’t tell you why I chose Thailand in particular. All I remember is that my dad didn’t want me to go, which turned my idea into an obsession.

That was 8 years ago, and I have been plotting my return ever since. Until I can carve out a chunk of time to rival my first excursion, I’ve been channeling my interest in Thai culture into the constant cooking and eating (well, mainly eating) of the country’s food. I took my first cooking class ever in Chiangmai, and when I returned home, I continued to practice my Pad Thai, Spring Rolls, Chicken with Cashew Nut, Green Curry, and Papaya Salad with the little twine-bound cookbook we had been given at the end of the course.

The few dishes not included in its pages were some of my favorites: spicy meat salads like Laab and Yam Neua from Isaan, where I spent two weeks living with a family in a small rice-farming village. Luckily, the flavors could live on in my mind through the many sub-par Thai take-out joints on St. Marks place. But recently, thanks to a contest for your Best Beef Salad on Food52, I began experimenting with a bastardized version of my two favorites—Green Papaya Salad (Som Tum) and Spicy Beef Salad (Yam Neua). The two are usually eaten in tandem at the table, alternated between mouthfuls of sticky rice, and are dressed with the classic Thai combination of lime juice, fish sauce, sugar, and just as much chili as you can stand.

Since I’m not Thai, and by no means an arbiter of knowledge on Thai cuisine beyond my short summer there, I thought I’d spice things up a bit (well, enough for my American taste buds) by adding the cherry tomatoes and roasted peanuts from Som Tum to my beef salad, creating one refreshing, sweet, salty, crunchy, carnivorous delight.

All told, my beef salad may not have been traditional. But the flavors did bring back all the memories from my first solo adventure in a new country in one delicious mouthful.

From my kitchen, dreaming of Thailand, to yours,

Phoebe, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

P.S. My Beef Salad only got chosen as an Editor's Pick, but Cara’s Blueberry Tart is a finalist for Food52’s Best Fruit Tart Contest!! Please please please check out the site (it is pretty awesome) and vote for her dish!

**Recipes**

Spicy Thai Beef Salad with Mizuna
Makes 2 servings

Both Som Tum and Yam Neua are usually set atop a small bed of undressed shredded lettuce, which acts more like a garnish than a base. I chose to use mizuna, which is normally found in Japanese cooking, to give the beef an extra peppery bite.

Ingredients

For the Salad:

3/4 lb flank steak
¼ cup fresh mint leaves, coarsely chopped
¼ cup cilantro leaves, coarsely chopped
1 shallot, sliced very thin
½ pint cherry tomatoes
1/4 cup chopped unsalted roasted peanuts
3-5oz mizuna (or baby arugula)

For the Dressing:

2 cloves garlic, pushed through a press
2-3 tsp siracha (or you can use minced Thai chilies)
½ tsp chili powder
2 tbsp sugar
5 tbsp fish sauce
3 limes, juiced
½ tbsp sesame oil

Trim off any excess fat from the steak and season it well with salt and pepper on both sides. Brush a ridged indoor grill pan with oil and set it over a high flame. When the pan is hot, set the steak down diagonally on the pan and cook until dark marks have formed. On the same side, shift the steak so it lies on the opposite diagonal of the pan. This will create a beautiful cross-hatch. Repeat on the other side, and cook until medium rare (when the meat has firmed up, but still has some give when prodded). Cover the steak with tin foil and set aside to rest for at least 15 minutes.

In the meantime, combine the fresh herbs, shallot, tomatoes, and half of the peanuts in a medium mixing bowl.

In a small bowl, combine all ingredients for the dressing.

One the meat has properly rested, transfer it to a cutting board and slice it into thin strips on a diagonal (your knife should be positioned at a 45 degree angle).

Toss the meat together with the salad mixture and the dressing.

To serve, create a large bed of mizuna on two plates, and top each with a large helping of beef salad (making sure to keep some of the liquid). Garnish with the remaining peanuts and a few leaves of cilantro.

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Cooking For One: Using a Recipe

DISH: Grilled Eggplant Salad

MAIN INGREDIENT: Eggplant

OCCASION: Vacation Day Lunch

Sometimes, during the work day, backseat chef and sister, Jill, sends me links to recipes she'd like to see made. Sometimes they're one hundred percent mouthwatering, and sometimes passing them up is as easy as a fruity pie. The latter is particularly true when she sends me gross, low-cal substitutions for greasy dishes from the Hungry Girl blog, since, unfortunately, I like my food full-fat.

Yet, as I said, often Jill is spot on. This recipe for Grilled Eggplant Salad comes from a link I found in my gchat window sometime in the middle of August (also known as eggplant season). It comes from the New York Times's blog on cooking for health, and it's a simple dish, but I was drawn to it since it uses a technique I hadn't really thought about before. You grill eggplant, as I so often do, but then you marinate it afterwards. It's like poaching a fish and then flavoring it; in other words: counterintuitive. But it's a great approach, and I've definitely used it since.

Somewhere in August, I don't exactly remember when, I took advantage of my office's two-for-one Summer Friday policy whereby a Friday off only counts as half of a vacation day. I stayed at home, cleaned the neglected corners of my apartment with Fantastik, and took a bike ride. And then when all this physical activity made me hungry just around when lunchtime came about, I recalled the eggplant recipe Jill had sent.

I find that lunch made from scratch and prepared expressly for that meal—rather than scrounged together from leftovers—is one of the most luxurious occasions out there, perhaps because it is so rare. Even more unusally, I followed the recipe to the letter, substituting sushi rice for Jasmine and topping it all with some smoked tofu, but otherwise quelling my need to tweak.

From my kitchen, where sometimes even wayward chefs can follow directions, to yours,

Cara, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipe**

Grilled Eggplant Salad

From the New York Times, recipe here.

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Recipe Flash: Quinoa Tabouli

I’ve been having a bit of a quinoa obsession lately. Due to her gluten intolerance and my father’s need to have at least something that resembled a carb at the table, my mother used to make it all the time while I was growing up. Not many people really talked about quinoa back in 1997, and it certainly didn’t appear on any restaurant menus that I knew of, so I lumped it in the category of Weird Health Foods My Mother Liked (along with green soup, carob chips, and Rice Dream ice cream). Today, it’s one of my favorite grains, mainly because of how well it absorbs any flavor you add to it. I have nothing against bulgar wheat, but I must say that tabouli never tasted so fresh and lemony as when using quinoa as the base. I served it recently alongside these salmon burgers in order to use up the last of the season’s beautiful cherry and grape tomatoes.

From my kitchen, albeit small, to yours,

Phoebe, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipe**

Quinoa Tabouli with Mint, Parsley, and Preserved Lemons
Makes 4 servings

Ingredients

12oz quinoa
1 quart chicken stock
1 shallot, minced
1 pint cherry tomatoes, halved
¼ cup parsley leaves, roughly chopped
1/3 cup mint leaves, roughly chopped
2 tsp white vinegar
1 tbsp finely chopped preserved lemons
1 lemon, juiced
3 tbsp olive oil
salt to taste

Place quinoa and chicken stock in a medium sauce pan and bring to a boil. Turn heat down to low, cover the pot, and simmer until all the liquid has evaporated, about 20 minutes.

In the meantime, combine shallot, tomatoes, herbs, vinegar, preserved lemons, lemon juice, and olive oil in a large mixing bowl. When the quinoa has finished cooking, add it to the bowl and toss all ingredients until well incorporated. Taste for seasoning, and add salt as necessary.


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Cooking For Others: In Mixed Company

EVENT: Cooking For The Rents' Friends, Live-in Catering to Earn My Keep
VENUE: Phoebe’s Parents' Beach House, Martha’s Vineyard
PARTY SIZE: 6
TYPE: Casual Summertime Dinner Party
MENU: Corn Cakes with Lemon Chive Crème Fraiche; Moroccan Bouillabaisse; Cous Cous; Mixed Greens; Peach-Blueberry Pie

When I left my job at the beginning of August, I decided to delay reality a bit by joining my parents on Martha’s Vineyard for the remainder of summer. It had been a while since I took more than ten days of vacation out there, but it felt pretty natural getting back into the swing of things: a little writing and reading in the morning, various WASP sports in the afternoon, and the ever indecisive debate over what to eat for dinner to determine our evening. When I was feeling unmotivated, I could usually persuade my mother to do the cooking, so long as I was the one to take a lengthy bike ride to Morning Glory Farm and procure the vegetables.

But this summer, my parents seemed to be feeling more social than usual, and more often than not, my mother and I found ourselves in the kitchen together, debating over what to serve the six to eight house guests soon to be squeezing around our small dining room table. Since apparently there were several of these nights prior to my arrival, my mother was all the more eager to turn over the reins. So I found myself cooking for my keep, and catering to mixed company outside my usual crowd.

The first evening, my inner debate was lengthy as to what to put on the menu. Casual, yet refined comfort food goes a long way when entertaining for my friends. But with, well, “real” adults at the table, there seemed to be a need to elevate my game, without going outside my comfort zone. I decided to use my go-to recipe for success with my quarter-life crowd—something fried to start, and a savory, satisfying one pot stew—all dressed up for the fancy folk.

I settled on corn cakes to start—a variation on the corn fritters I usually serve my friends—with a dollop of lemony chive crème fraiche to make them all the more elegant. For the main course, I took a page out of my mother’s book and went with a large tagine. This stew was a variation on classic French bouillabaisse with Moroccan spices and a hodgepodge of the island’s seafood bounty.

As my parent’s friends inhaled the corn cakes even faster than my roommate’s boyfriend did the week before, I realized that meals for those beyond quarter-life don’t have to be fancy in the traditional sense. Beautiful presentation and interesting ingredients are enough to impress your boss, clients, parents, or uber-sophisticated European acquaintances without requiring you to try too hard. Comfort foods can be disguised under a dollop of fancy French cream, or made special by the occasional Littleneck clam, but still manage to produce members of the clean plate club, no matter what age.

From my kitchen, catering in-house comfort to kids of all ages, to yours,

Phoebe, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipes**

Corn Cakes with Lemon Chive Crème Fraiche
Makes 12 cakes, 6 servings
Ingredients
2/3 cup yellow cornmeal
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon sugar
1/8 teaspoon baking soda
1/8 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup buttermilk
1 egg
1 cup fresh corn kernels (about 2 ears)
2 shallots, minced

4oz crème fraiche
3 tbsp chopped chives (plus more for garnish)
½ lemon, juiced (about 1 tbsp)
¼ tsp salt

In a medium mixing bowl, stir together the cornmeal, flour, sugar, baking soda, and salt. In a separate bowl, whisk together the buttermilk and the egg. Add to the dry ingredients and whisk until just combined. Fold in the corn and shallots.

Coat a large skillet with oil and set it over high heat. When the oil is sizzling (you can flick some water into the pan to test this), add a tablespoonful of batter to the pan and press flat with the bottom of the spoon to form a flat, round cake. Work in batches, making sure not to crowd the pan, and cook each cake for about a minute per side, until brown and crispy. Remove to a paper towel to drain, and repeat with the additional batter.

NOTE: you can make the cakes the night before and bake them off at 350 degrees before serving, until each cake is browned and heated through.

In the meantime, combine the crème fraiche, chives, lemon, and salt in a small bowl.

To serve, top each cake with a dollop of sauce and sprinkle with chives.

Moroccan Bouillabaisse
Makes 6 Servings
Ingredients
8 plum tomatoes (about 2 ¼ lb), seeded and grated (skins removed at end)
1 large onion, grated
3 garlic cloves, chopped
4 cups fish stock
1 lb potatoes, peeled and cut into ½ inch cubes
1/4 teaspoon crumbled saffron threads (optional)
1 tbsp ground cumin
1/2 tbsp sweet paprika
1/2 tbsp ground ginger
1/2 preserved lemon, peel only, thinly sliced
1/4 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley
1/4 cup chopped cilantro
1 1/2 pounds large shrimp, peeled and deveined with the tails on
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (about ½ lemon)
1 lb white fish fillet (such as monkfish, turbot, red snapper, striped bass, porgy, grouper, and/or cod), cut into 1 ½ inch fillets (about 5 pieces)
1/2 pound mussels, scrubbed*
1/2 pound cockles or small hard-shelled clams, scrubbed*

*you can choose one of the two, so long as there is 1 pound total

In a large Dutch oven or saucepan with a lid, heat two tablespoons of olive oil over medium-high heat. Add the tomatoes, onion, and garlic and sauté until fragrant and some of the liquid has cooked out, about five minutes. Add the fish stock and bring to a boil. When its vigorously bubbling, add the potatoes and the dried seasoning (saffron, cumin, paprika, ginger). Simmer uncovered for a few minutes, then reduce heat, and cover until the potatoes are almost tender, about 8 minutes.

In the meantime, combine the parsley, cilantro, and lemon juice in a medium mixing bowl. Toss shrimp until coated in the herbs. Set aside to marinate. This can be done up to 2 hours in advance, but no more otherwise the shrimp will turn into a ceviche.

When the potatoes are tender, add the preserved lemon, stir to combine, and then submerge the portioned fish filets in the broth. Cook until the fish pieces are nearly opaque but not completely cooked through. Carefully fold in the mussels and the shrimp with all their juices. Cover and cook until the mussels are opened and the shrimp are pink.

Serve immediately, straight from the pan or in a Moroccan style tagine, with cous cous and some crusty bread.
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Big Girls, Global Kitchens: Madeleines

I warn you: this is going to be a snobby post from beginning to end. Something about Francophilia, even if pastry related, gives you that haughty edge. But even though we're no Freedom-Fry eaters, Phoebe and I really rarely do cook from the French tradition--give us Italian, Greek, Moroccan, or Thai over French any day--and so I figured we get a pass for this near faux pas.

This bout of French affection is, of course, pastry related, but it's not about any of those weirdly unsatisfying Napoleon-type towers, or about big shiny Baba au Rhum. It's about the butter little cakes called Madeleines.

See, I have had a great affection for Madeleines ever since my sister asked for, and received, a molded pan for her birthday one year. Like so much that is French, the proper Madeleine recipe is a funny mix of simple ingredients and a technique that is slightly more complicated than your run-of-the-mill cookie. Which, if you're a baker, actually makes it more satisfying to make than your run-of-the mill cookie, since it takes focus and concentration.

Most Madeleines, as well as most Madeleine recipes, wind up being some manner of pound cake baked in the shell-shaped molds. But Madeleines are intended to be made with a genoise-like batter, an egg beaten with lots of sugar, then flour, with more butter than is strictly necessary dripped in at the end. This produces slightly dense little cakes that are most, without the post-pound cake dry mouth. I think part of the reason people end up going the pound cake route is because real madeleines don't keep all that well. But if you have an occasion on which to serve madeleines hot from the oven, or nearly so, give this recipe a try. It doesn't really matter if you have the right baking sheet or not—truthfully a mini-muffin pan will turn out delicious little cakes.

From my kitchen, where every so often I pay homage to the French, to yours,

Cara, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipes**

Perfect Madeleines

Makes 24

Ingredients
3/4 cup butter (1 1/2 sticks)
2 eggs
1 cup sugar
1 cup flour
1 teaspoon vanilla

Preheat oven to 450°F. Butter the madeleine mold very, very thoroughly.

Melt the butter and set aside to come to room temperature.

Meanwhile, in a double boiler, heat the eggs and the sugar until lukewarm, stirring constantly. You'll know they're ready when a drop of them on your wrist feels like nothing.

Remove from heat and beat until thick but light and creamy, incorporating as much air as possible. This takes a while, up to 10 minutes. When cool, gradually add the flour, stirring to combine. The batter will seem like a paste.

Gently, add the cool melted butter and the vanilla or lemon zest. Stir to combine.

Distribute half the batter in the 12 Madeleine molds. Bake for about 10-12 minutes, until the Madeleines are puffed in the center and brown around the edges. Let cool about 3 minutes, then carefully pry them from the molds. Wash out all the crumbs, butter well again, and repeat with the second half of the batter. Serve as soon as possible, preferably within the day.

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Recipe Flash: Crab Cakes

It’s after Labor Day, and it’s more or less official now that summer is over. I’ve put away my white linen shorts and begun stock-piling tinted body lotion to remedy my imminent paleness, but so long as the farmer’s market is still dishing out bright colored herbs and veggies, I’ll keep the spirit of the season alive in my kitchen by steering clear of a different kind of white—the pasta, rice, and potatoes that will soon become a staple of my fall diet.

For now, this means crab cakes. I don’t really eat a lot of seafood at home during the year, but every summer when I migrate to Martha’s Vineyard and can temporarily grocery shop using my parent’s wallet, I look forward to the seafood lining my plate, or decorating the tabletops packed into tight little cakes. During my last few days out on the Cape, I tried get in my fill of over-priced lump crab. Since these cakes are usually also quite pale in complexion, I’ve loaded them up with fresh green onions to give a bright punch to our dinner, which is now enjoyed under a dark sky.

From my kitchen, albeit small, to yours,

Phoebe, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipe**

Green Onion and Mustard Crab Cakes
Makes 10 cakes

Ingredients

8oz fresh lump crab meat
1 tbsp mustard
1/2 cup fresh bread crumbs
1 tbsp chopped parsley (plus more for garnish)
2 scallions, green parts only, finely chopped
2 tbsp lemon juice
dash cayenne
dash paprika
salt
1 egg, scrambledCombine the first 9 ingredients in a medium mixing bowl. Gently fold in the egg until all ingredients are incorporated. Form the crab mixture into small, two-bite sized balls, and then flatten slightly to create patties. Set cakes aside on a large plate and cover with plastic wrap. Refrigerate for at least an hour, and up to 1 day.

Coat a large skillet with a thin layer of olive oil and set it over medium-high heat. When the oil is hot, fry the cakes in 2 batches until crisp and golden brown on both sides.

Remove to a paper towel to drain. Sprinkle the cakes with salt and a splash of lemon juice. Serve immediately as is, or with a dollop of herb mayonnaise on top.

Happy campers.

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From My Mother's Kitchen: Grandpa Potato

DISH: Grandpa Salad with Potatoes and Cheese
MAIN INGREDIENTS: Tomato, Cucumber

All summer, my family eats an easy salad of tomatoes, cucumbers, chopped red onion, and olive oil. When the tomatoes are good, the cucumbers crisp, and the onion not too abundant, there's almost nothing I'd rather eat. For unknown reasons, we call this salad "grandpa salad," though it wasn't invented by any grandpa I know, and it's not any more geriatric-tasting than the next thing. It is, like an old man, kind of crotchety, and by that I mean it is an inalterable dish, and we do not mess with it. Variation in this salad is limited to the color and size of the tomatoes, yellow, orange, or red; cherry, plum, or old misshapen heirloom. It sounds annoying, but you can't really make this salad when the tomatoes are not good. It's just not quite worth it.

And yet recently my mother started tweaking grandpa salad. At first what she was doing seemed benign: she'd pack a lunch container with a bottom layer of toasted, cubed bread, then mound in the grandpa salad, then top it with some mozzarella or feta cheese. By lunchtime, the bread would have soaked up some of the juices, and when she tossed it all together, it resembled a cheese-punctuated panzanella. It sounded so good, I figured though "grandpa" perhaps would be rolling in his hypothetical grave, maybe he would give her a pass for deliciousness.

But then my mom ran out of bread and started substituting cubed cooked potatoes for the croutons. That, too, seemed an unlikely combination, one that didn't particularly jibe with the mission of the original salad. And then of course I tried it—and then, of course, discovered that it's a very good combination. It is a bit like a mayonnaise-less potato salad, the dressing coming from the tomato juices and olive oil instead. Even better, it gets richer and more tasty the longer it sits (to a point), and so it makes perfect lunch and perfect picnic fare.

From my kitchen, where mom and "grandpa" know best, to yours,

Cara, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipe**

Grandpa Potato Salad
Serves 2

This salad really profits from a great olive oil, so if you have one you really like the taste of, definitely use it here. If you get into the tweaking, here are some other good things to add: canned/cooked green chilis, sliced kalamata olives, spoonful of toasted pine nuts.

Ingredients2 medium tomatoes or 1 box cherry tomatoes
2 large Kirby/pickling cucumbers, cubed
1/4 medium red onion, very finely diced
2 tablespoons olive oillarge pinch salt
2 cups small Yukon gold or red potatoes
2 ounces favorite cheese

Wash the potatoes well. Put them in a large stockpot and cover with water. Over medium heat, bring to a boil, then let the potatoes simmer for about 10 minutes, or until a knife inserted into a potato goes in very easily. Drain the potatoes and dry. Cut the potatoes into large bite-sized pieces.If you're using large tomatoes, cube them; cut cherry tomatoes in half. Combine with the cucumbers, olive oil, salt, red onion, and a little bit of salt (it's best to undersalt now, then add a bit more before eating). Cut or crumble the cheese, then toss with the potatoes. Let sit for at least half an hour, then taste for salt and serve.

layered...

...then mixed

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Big Girls, Test Kitchen: Fried Green Tomato BLT's

DISH: Fried Multicolored Tomato BLTs with Basil-Chive Mayo
MAIN INGREDIENTS: Bacon, Lettuce, Tomato

Growing up, on days when a turkey club just felt like too much work for my jaw, I tended to downgrade from the triple-decker to a plain old bacon sandwich with one lettuce leaf and a sizable slather of mayo. At age 11, when I made the personal ruling that tomatoes were indeed a vegetable instead of a fruit, I transitioned from turkey entirely and began a lifelong love affair with the BLT.

I’ve found over the years that my favorites in the BLT department owe their excellence to the quality of ingredients: perfectly crispy bacon, crunchy lettuce, and a thick slice of ripe, juicy tomato. I thought nothing could beat that description, until I discovered the Fried Green Tomato BLT at Slice of Life, a cozy little restaurant in Martha’s Vineyard. The fried tomatoes were a revelation: tart and firm, adding a whole new dimension of crisp, salty goodness sandwiched inside two pieces of house-made rosemary bread.

Once I find heaven in a sandwich, I usually end the search and delve into my singular addiction. Rarely do I have the hubris to attempt to recreate perfection in my own kitchen, especially when it involves deep frying. But back in New York City, a craving hit, and I found myself filling a Dutch oven with vegetable oil, crisping bacon on the adjacent burner, and wrecking havoc on my countertop with wayward cornmeal, four, and egg as I coated farmers' market heirloom tomatoes in preparation for the fryer.

I knew the most likely letdown for my imposter BLT would be the bread; the rosemary had given Slice of Life's version an added element of flavor. So to bulk up my rustic Italian loaf, I rubbed a little raw garlic on the toasted slices and added chives to the basil mayonnaise to give it another level of herbiness. For jaded me, the result gave the original a fair run for its money. But for my friends, my Fried Multicolored Tomato BLT reached revelatory standing. They can be happy with the imposter. I’ll just have to keep traveling to that island to the East for the real thing.

From my kitchen, where sandwich perfection is (sometimes) reached, to yours,

Phoebe, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipe**

Fried Multi-Colored Tomato BLT’s with Basil-Chive Mayo
Makes 4 servings

While most BLTs have a large leaf of crisp romaine lettuce, the Slice of Life version uses a handful of peppery arugula which helps offset the huge slices of fried tomatoes and intensify (instead of water down) the taste of each fresh ingredient.

Ingredients
1 loaf rustic Italian or country bread, sliced 3/4 inch thick
Vegetable oil
2-3 large heirloom tomatoes, preferably firm green or yellow
handful baby arugula leaves
6oz bacon (8 strips)
1 cup flour
2 eggs, beaten
½ cup cornmeal
salt
cayenne pepper
1 garlic clove, peeled

For the mayo:

2 tbsp chopped basil
1 tbsp chopped chives
1 tbsp lemon juice
½ cup mayonnaise (preferably canola-based)Preheat the broiler.

Set a non-stick skillet over medium-high heat. Arrange the bacon in one layer and fry in batches until dark brown and crispy. Repeat with the remaining bacon. Set aside to drain on a plate lined with paper towels.

Fill a Dutch oven or skillet with 2 inches of vegetable oil and set over high heat. While the oil is getting hot, fill three shallow bowls with the flour, egg, and cornmeal, one ingredient in each. One at a time, dredge the tomatoes in flour, douse in egg, and then cover in cornmeal, shaking off any excess. Repeat with each slice.

Test the oil with one tomato—the oil should bubble vigorously upon contact and the slice should begin browning in less than a minute. Cook each tomato until golden brown and crispy, about one to two minutes per side, and remove with a slotted spoon to a plate lined with paper towels. Season generously with salt and pepper.

While the tomatoes are frying and draining, combine all the ingredients for the mayonnaise in a small bowl.

On a rimmed baking sheet, brush each slice of bread on both sides with olive oil. Place in the oven for a few minutes, until the bread is golden brown but not hard. Rub each slice with the garlic clove, and slather both halves with a thin layer of basil mayo. Top the first half with a small handful of arugula, two slices of bacon, and two or three slices of tomato. Top with the other slice of bread and push down to seal the sandwich.

Serve immediately, preferably with a side of coleslaw.

the dad, enjoying BLT perfection at Slice of Life

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Potluck Parties: Mag Club, The Year in Review

Mag Club, August 2008

Mag Club, August 2009

hair styles may have changed, but the plaid shirts remain

EVENT: Mag Club One Year Anniversary
VENUE: Leora’s New Apartment, West Village
PARTY SIZE: 8
TYPE: Potluck Party
MENU: Parmesan Polenta Steaks with Heirloom Tomato-Corn Salad (Phoebe); Lentil Salad (Alana); Whole Wheat Fusilli with Roasted Broccoli, Sundried Tomatoes, and Chickpeas (Leora); Sesame Noodles (Jor); Flourless Peanut Butter Cookies (Sarah); Carrot Cake (Cara)

It feels like just yesterday the six of us gathered to kick off what would become our favorite eating ritual: Magazine Club. Back in August 2008, Julie had just moved into a new apartment, and we joined to warm her new digs with Kate’s spicy tostadas inspired by Eva Mendes’ steamy cover of W magazine, Phoebe’s Go Green! Pretentious Pesto Pasta fueled by a 30-pg Thomas Friedman article in New York Times Magazine, and Leora’s Caprese salad, more or less a constant in the year of collective potluck eating, though there has yet to be an argument made for its importance.

The most notable changes since August 2008, have been our various locations. We don’t want to seem like followers, but Julie’s new studio did kick off a second chapter in post-college apartments. Sarah, guiltiest of all, moved right into her building. Jor moved back in with her parents and then, recently, to a studio in the West Village, just a few blocks from Kate’s, to which she in turn had migrated in November. Cara pulled out her skinny jeans and a fedora and relocated to Brooklyn. And after a long-winded battle with bed bugs in her mom's place, Alana envies us all.

Last, but not least, Leora’s new apartment set the scene for our One Year Anniversary. Though the plans for her move with boyfriend Adam (whose sister heard the news through the blog) were captured in our May Mag Club recap, we were surprised to find that she boxed up her vast number of tchotchkes and relegated them to the one not-so-huge cabinet in her new space. Though Leora’s redesign very much reflected the presence of a man more firmly rooted in her life, the invitation to join our Mag Club circle has, thankfully, not been extended because, well, how else would we get to talk about him?

When magazines have failed to suffice—we can't remember the last time someone (besides Kate) actually brought, let alone wanted to discuss, an article—boy talk has been the glue in our conversations. We discovered while discussing Cara and Sarah’s various introductions to their boyfriend’s family members, and Julie’s upcoming trip to Bermuda for a wedding, that all our members are now spoken for. That is, except for Phoebe, who now, thanks to her belief in this one element of Thai tradition, automatically gets to eat the last cookie at every meeting.

Though our lives have evolved, the food has remained invariably soul-satisfying. When Leora refrains from the mozzarella and tomatoes, you can be sure that roasted broccoli will make the replacement. Though she attempted Sangria at the Cinco de Mayo Mag Cub, Jor more often than not will fall back on takeout sesame noodles, her order tripling over the months, thanks to our happy consumption. Julie has taken full advantage of the Whole Foods downstairs from her building, making sure to always grace our table with various snacks—hummus, baba ghanoush, pita chips, pretzels. Sarah has added to our waistlines by baking rich, delicious treats (in spite of Cara's unheeded please to go easy on the butter), and without fail, no matter what her dish, Kate always manages to bring an article to enrich our exhausted minds.

Looking back, we can make out how our monthly tradition has become exactly the type of family dinner that our age group craves but is so often missing. For us Mag-Clubbers, cooking is an outlet for our creative energy, which is often stifled by adult responsibilities, like, say, sitting in a cubicle for 10 hours a day. But the friend part—getting together, getting the dish—embodies what we remember loving about our family meals: the un-compromised attention to one another, to the food, to leaning back, and digging in.

From our kitchen, celebrating a year of our Mag-Club family of friends, to yours,

Phoebe and Cara, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOKS

Leora, the runner-up suck-up, with Michael Pollan's article on cooking at home

**Recipes**

Lentil Salad
Makes 4-6 servings

Ingredients
1 cup lentils
2 tblspns red wine vinegar
3 tblspns olive oil
salt
fresh ground black pepper
1/4 cup thinly sliced scallions
3 tblspns chopped parsley
1/2 cup diced cucumber
1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese (also good with goat cheese)

Cook lentils until tender all the way through. Toss lentils with red wine vinegar, salt and pepper. (taste and add more if needed) Add olive oil, scallions, parsley and cucumber. Stir to combine. Refrigerate and garnish w/ crumbled feta or goat cheese before serving.

Whole Wheat Fusilli with Roasted Broccoli, Sundried Tomatoes, and Chickpeas
Makes 4 servings Ingredients

16oz box whole wheat fusilli
1 head broccoli, separated into florets
1 clove garlic, thinly sliced, thinly sliced
3 oz sundried tomatoes, thinly sliced
6 oz portabella mushrooms, chopped
15 oz can diced tomatoes
15 oz can chickpeas, drained and rinsed
1 cup fresh bread crumbs (or ½ cup store bought)

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.

On a rimmed cookie sheet, toss the broccoli with two tablespoons of olive oil, garlic, salt, and pepper. Roast for about 25 minutes, until brown on top. Set aside in a large bowl.

While veggies are being prepared, bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Cook the pasta according to package directions. Drain and toss with a little olive oil and add to the veggie bowl.

Heat some olive oil in a skillet, and sauté the sundried tomatoes and mushrooms until cooked through. Add to the veggie bowl. In the same skillet, sauté the tomatoes and the chickpeas and let simmer and bubble, until the chickpeas are soft but not mushy. Add to the veggie bowl with a little olive oil and toss together.

The last step is heating a little more olive oil in the skillet, and sautéing the breadcrumbs until crisp and browned. Pour on pasta mixture and serve.

Jor, eating sesame noodles, for which there is no recipe we know

Flourless Peanut Butter Cookies
Makes 12 cookies

Ingredients
1 Packed Cup of Light Brown Sugar
1 Egg
1 tsp Baking Soda
1/2 tsp Vanilla
1 cup Chocolate Chips
1 cup Crunchy Peanut Butter

Stir together the sugar and the egg until combined. Sprinkled the baking soda over the mixture and mix well. As the vanilla, Chocolate chips, and peanut butter and stir to combine. On a greased baking sheet, form the batter in 1 inch balls and place at least 1 ½ inches apart. Bake at 350 for 10-12 minutes.

carrot cake (left), and peanut butter cookies

Carrot Cake

Makes two "sandwich" cakes

Follow the recipe for carrot cake cupcakes here.

Pour the batter into a well-greased 12x18" sheet pan with sides. Bake for about 25 minutes, until cooked through. Let cool completely.

Prepare the cream cheese icing.

When the cake has cooled, cut it into four rectangles, each measuring 9x4.5". Spread the cream cheese on two of the pieces, then top each one with an unfrosted rectangle.

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Recipe Flash: Parmesan Polenta Steaks

This dish is modeled after one I enjoyed during a leisurely three-hour lunch on my last day of work, where my (ex-)coworkers and I managed to polish of two bottles of Prosecco among the three of us. Now, granted, anything would taste pretty good after that much Prosecco. But it was the image of this dish that stuck with me: an elegant, beautifully fried polenta steak piled high with delicately shaved summer squash, fresh corn kernels, and julienned basil. Normally I’m not a huge fan of combining a piping hot protein straight out of the oven with a cold, raw topping. But the quality of the summer vegetables made them perfectly crunchy and vibrant, and they complimented the creamy, sharpness of the Parmesan polenta and the salty, smokiness of the crumbled speck on top.

From my kitchen, albeit small, to yours,

Phoebe, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipe**

Parmesan Polenta Steaks with Heirloom Tomato-Corn Salad and Crispy Prosciutto
Makes 4 large polenta steaks

Ingredients

For the salad:
3 medium heirloom tomatoes, seeded and chopped
2 ears corn, kernels removed
¼ lb fresh mozzarella or boccacini, roughly shredded or chopped
3 tbsp chopped basil
1 clove garlic, minced
1 small summer squash, quartered and thinly sliced
1 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp balsamic vinegar
1 tsp salt

For the polenta:
1 cup polenta
2 cups water or chicken stock
1 cup heavy cream (or you can just substitute water)
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan
1 tbsp butter
1 tbsp fresh thyme (optional)
salt to taste
olive oil or canola oil for frying

4 slices prosciutto

In a medium stock pot, bring water and cream to a boil over medium-high heat. Slowly pour the polenta into the pot in a gentle stream, while whisking briskly. Turn the heat down to low and cook, stirring constantly, for ten minutes, or until almost all the liquid is absorbed. Add the cheese and butter and whisk to combine. Taste for seasoning, and add salt as necessary.

Butter an 8 x 8 inch baking dish and evenly distribute the polenta. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 2 hours, preferably overnight.

Fill a large skillet or Dutch oven with about an inch of oil, and place it over high heat. Remove the polenta from the fridge and cut it into 4 squares. Pat dry each steak dry, and add to the pan, two at a time. Fry each steak on both sides until brown and crispy, about 3-4 minutes per side. Remove the steaks to a paper towel to drain.

While the oil is still hot, add the prosciutto one slice at a time and quickly fry on both sides, about a minute. Set aside to drain.

In the meantime, combine all ingredients for the salad in a medium mixing bowl. Toss until all ingredients are well incorporated and taste for seasoning.

Arrange polenta steaks on a large platter or on individual plates and top with the salad mixture. Garnish with some coarsely torn basil and, for the meat eaters, a handful of crumbled crispy prosciutto.
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