Big Girls, Global Kitchens: Matapa

July 2009: Essie's matapa feast in New York

DISH: Matapa

MAIN INGREDIENTS: Peanuts, Coconut Milk, Cassava Leaves (or Kale)

Tuesday marked the very happy occasion of our dear friend Essie's permanent immigration to the States. Since November 2007, she had been living on and off in a small city called Vilanculos, about halfway up the Mozambican coastline from its southern border with South Africa.

There, she was first a volunteer and then a project manager at African Impact, and Essie and her team helped run the organization’s pre-school, taught English, and initiated other community-oriented projects. She even helped support a few community gardens, which is how she got to witness the growing of the cassava plant, whose leaves are a key (but, luckily for us North Americans, replaceable) ingredient in Mozambique's signature dish, matapa, a long-cooked stew made from ground cassava greens, ground peanuts, and coconut milk. Several times when Essie has returned home for a visit, she's made matapa and invited us all over, improvising ingredients where she needs to, but always finishing with a distinct and delicious dish.

Matapa in Mozambique

Perhaps it was my craving for matapa, or perhaps I did something right in a past life, but I was lucky beyond lucky and was able to arrange a trip to Mozambique this past September. Though Essie already had purchased her one-way, end-of-October plane tickets home, she was keen to have someone from her New York world witness the day-to-day rhythm of her Mozambican existence so that once she was back it wouldn't seem so otherworldly. And it was different: We either walked everywhere or drove enormous vehicles equipped with four-wheel drive--no regular cars. We had to organize our schedules around when the generator was on, which was definitely not all the time--and if we'd been staying off the organization's headquarters, we may well have been without running water or electricity at all. We ate seafood and a lot of rice. We tried to deal with a very strange collection of ex-pats, mainly from the UK and South Africa. We snorkled in octopus-filled waters.

Of course I was a newbie at all this, but since she's been in Vilanculos, Essie has learned it all: how to drive on sand, how to make matapa, how to speak Portuguese, how to argue in Portuguese, and on and on. But good as it is, her command of Mozambican protocol is nothing compared to Chris, her boyfriend's. Chris has lived in different parts of Mozambique and Zimbabwe for most of his life, and he has an uncanny ability to get things done when they seem entirely impossible. While I was there, he took us out on the water two days, once through nauseatingly choppy seas to this gorgeous island, nicknamed Paradise, where there was a crumbling luxury hotel built in the pre-civil war days for us to explore.

What he also knows how to do is throw a party. Essie's birthday fell in the middle of my stay, and Chris organized a dinner at his parents' house for a group of Essie's friends. He served wonderful fish soup, salad, rice, bread, matapa, sweet local crab, grilled shrimp, french fries, and a chocolate cake. I brought the party hats. Eating the rich, flavorful matapa in the middle of the country of its origin, on my best friend's birthday no less, was pretty much all I could ask for. Later, we went to Smugglers, the favored bar, and, standing on barstools, I commemorated the occasion on the ceiling (writing on the ceiling is a Smugglers' tradition):

I wrote: "To Besther on her 24th birthday! Love, Bara"
Essie, more importantly, added: "MIA Phoebs"

It's now October 30th. Essie's been back in New York two days, and I know it will be a hardship for her to have to substitute collards or kale when she makes me matapa. But though I'm thrilled I got to see her in her Mozambican element, I'm infinitely happier that she's back on my soil--cassava friendly or not.

From my kitchen, where I'm welcoming Essie and Chris to New York, to yours,

Cara, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipes**

Essie, contemplating her birthday feast

Matapa
Recipe by Essie
Serves 4

It’s nearly impossible to mess it up. The key points are just to grind everything as finely as possible and stew for up to two hours, no less than one hour. It’s also always easy to add more liquid than to remedy it if you’ve added too much liquid, so err on the side of caution and undershoot how much liquid you think you need and then adjust towards the end. I’ve written the recipe out for four people roughly, but just adjust quantities accordingly. If you really like peanuts you can add more peanuts, if you like more coconut milk you can add more of that. Ok, you get the point.

If you want to read and salivate more about matapa, check out this well-written and vivid article from a 2000 edition of Gourmet.

Ingredients
1 large bunch collard greens (or substitute kale, spinach, or another leafy green)
2 cloves garlic
1 3/4 cups unsalted peanuts
3/4 cup coconut milk
salt to taste

Grind the (very dry) collard greens with the cloves of garlic. Add them to a large stockpot pot with a small quantity of water, just enough to submerge all of the ground greens. Bring this to a boil and allow it to continue bubbling on medium-high heat for about twenty minutes or until paste-like.

Meanwhile, in a food processor or blender, grind the unsalted peanuts as finely as possible to get 1 1/2 cups of ground peanuts. Mix peanuts with a bit of water to form it into a paste. Add peanut paste and the coconut milk into the boiling greens and mix well.

Allow to simmer over low heat for 1-2 hours until the mixture comes together as a cohesive, thick sauce. If the matapa is looking too watery you should simmer with the lid off and it will thicken. If matapa is looking too thick you can always add a bit more water or coconut milk and then simmer with the lid on.

Serve with white rice and grilled or sauteed seafood. Put on a sarong, walk around barefoot and eat with your hands.

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Recipe Flash: Bananas and Chocolate

BRUNCH MENU: Grilled Cheese Sandwiches, Pickles, Baked Sweet Potato Fries, Banana Chocolate Chip Bread, Orange Juice, and Coffee

This recipe makes enough for one mini-loaf of banana chocolate chip bread, plus a couple of extra mini-muffins. The loaf spends less time in the oven than the epic hour of a regular-sized banana bread, and the muffins cook even more quickly, which means you get an appetizer to tide you over.

I know everyone has his or her own favorites when it comes to banana bread. For a long time, I wouldn't have dreamed of adding chocolate chips to mine. And then, at Phoebe's 21st birthday party, as I mentioned in this post about quickbread ratios, I ate the banana bread Phoebe's mom baked loaves and loaves of, and I couldn't really ever go back.

This recipe actually uses a little more fat than the normal ratio, which gives it an unbeatable crispy top and sides. Great warm out of the oven and topped with chocolate gelato!

From my kitchen, albeit small, to yours,

Cara, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipe**

Banana Chocolate Chip Bread and Muffins
Makes 1 small loaf and 10-12 mini muffins

Ingredients
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons safflower oil
1/2 cup sugar
2 large very ripe bananas
1 egg
3/4 cup flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 tesaspoon salt
1/2 cup chocolate chips (milk or semisweet)

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Grease a small loaf pan and a dozen mini muffin cups.

In a mixing bowl, combine the oil and the sugar. Beat in the egg, then add the bananas whole and mash them with a fork. Don't overmash; you don't want the batter to become gummy.

Whisk together the flour, soda, powder, and salt. Fold it into the wet ingredients until the flour is just barely moistened. Fold in the chocolate chips.

Bake for 10 minutes for the muffins and 25-35 minutes for the loaf, until a sharp knife stuck in comes out clean. Cool 10 minutes before digging in.
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Potluck Parties: Mag Club, Without Gourmet

even Marley knows a good cauliflower curry when he smells one

EVENT: Mag Club October
VENUE: Calia & Nick’s apartment, Upper West Side
PARTY SIZE: 10 (including Marley, the dog)
TYPE: Potluck Party
MENU: Risotto Cakes (Phoebe); Cauliflower Curry, Spinach Dip (Calia); Lentil and Goat Cheese Salad (Julie); Avocado Salad (Alana); Caprese Salad (Leora, ovi); Assorted Salads (Kate); Brownies (Cara)

It seemed rather ironic as we gathered at Calia’s new apartment for our October installment of Mag Club that just that morning, Conde Nast announced its decision to close Gourmet. And as if we all subconsciously stood in solidarity with the corporation's other suffering titles, not one of us, not even Kate, came prepared with a glossy article to share.


But every member of Mag Club was actually in attendance, for perhaps the first time in Mag Club history, and the morning’s events did give us a lot to talk about. Phoebe shared the memory of her friend’s mother’s Gourmet collection that lined an entire wall in her house and dated back to 1942. Julie expressed deep sympathy to home cooks who relied on its pages for inspiration, having for the very first time cooked and brought a dish to Mag Club all by herself. And for unknown reasons, Kate seemed actually more upset over Cookie’s closing than any of the other magazines.

Calia’s dog Marley provided a worthy distraction from all this sorrow, and soon the conversation turned to how she could actually take care of a dog and a boyfriend under one roof, and still maintain a beautifully clean apartment. None of us could remember the last time Calia was able to attend Mag Club, though her repeated absences cannot be blamed on the logistics of dog, boyfriend, or cleaning, but rather on her second job as a knitting tutor. Had we seen her more recently, perhaps when Alana brought her lentil and feta salad to Leora’s, we might have known about her bean phobia, and greater foodie fear of all things mushy. But despite this bias, Calia took her first bite of lentils to honor Julie’s noteworthy homemade Mag Club dish, and to both of their great surprise, actually loved them. Her salad was perfectly firm, not even slightly over cooked, and became the center point for a momentous Mag Club day of firsts.


With Gourmet still in our hearts, if not in our hands, we hope that our new year of Mag Club will hold true to this dark day's apparent happy ending: new dishes and ingredients to try, taste, and enjoy along side Leora's classic caprese, in our new apartments, with our pets, always together.

From my kitchen, where a magazine’s legacy lives long on the stove, to yours,

Phoebe and Cara, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOKS

**Recipes**

Risotto Cakes
Makes 16 cakes

You can use any type of leftover risotto for these cakes. On this particular Mag Club occasion, I used leftover Smokey Red Pepper Risotto, and it was excellent in cake form. If you make the risotto from scratch, just make sure that you cool it entirely. As always, I find these cakes fry up better if they are formed into balls in advance and chilled in the fridge. In this case, you can form them into balls while hot, and then let the fridge do the rest of the work for you.

Ingredients

4 cups risotto (about ¾ cup dry, see here for cooking instructions)
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
2 cups panko bread crumbs
olive oil

Form the risotto into 1 ½ inch balls (about 12 - 16 total). Set aside on a plate and chill in the refrigerator for 20 minutes or so. This can also be done the night before.

Place the flour, beaten egg, and panko in three different shallow bowls and lay them out in that order. Dredge each cake in flour, dip it in egg wash, and the cover with bread crumbs. Shake off any excess, and set aside.

In a sauté pan or skillet, heat enough oil to generously coat the pan. When the oil is hot, add the risotto cakes in batches and cook until golden brown on both sides. Remove to a paper towel to let drain.

If traveling with these, allow to cool almost completely before sticking them in your Tupperware. Even if not perfectly crisp upon arrival, these will taste delicious. But you want to try and prevent them from steaming themselves in an airtight container while en route.

Cauliflower Curry
Makes 4-6 Servings

Ingredients

1 head of cauliflower
1/2 to 3/4 bag of shredded cheddar
1 can of condensed cream of chicken soup
1 1/2 teaspoons of mild curry powder
1/3 cup mayonnaise
paprika
breadcrumbs

Wash and chop the cauliflower into medium sized pieces. Bring a pot of water to a boil and add the cauliflower, cooking until al dente. Drain the cauliflower and return to pot, adding all of the ingredients above, except for the paprika and breadcrumbs. Mix well so that all of the ingredients are evenly distributed. Place in a baking/casserole dish, sprinkle a light layer of breadcrumbs on top, and then add the paprika.

Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes, or until bubbling.

Lentil and Goat Cheese Salad
Makes 4 Servings
Copyright Karen Lee 2009

Julie followed the recipe of her mother's cooking instructor, Karen Lee. Her advice: stuff this salad into Belgian endive leaves for an hors d’oeuvre, or serve on lettuce with a few olives on the side for an appetizer. I prefer boucheron, but any goat cheese with a little bite is good. Some times I top this salad with a little diced and sautéed prosciutto. As a salad a nice presentation would be to alternate radicchio, and endive leaves.

Ingredients

For the Sherry Vinegar Dressing:

1 Tbsp. sherry vinegar
1 Tbsp. lemon juice
1/4 cup olive oil
1 1/2 tsp. salt
pepper to taste

For the Lentils:

1 cup lentils, washed and drained, French green lentils or black beluga lentils (Shiloh Farms brand)
2 3/4 cups vegetable stock
1/4 tsp. ground cumin
1/3 cup snipped fresh chives, or 1/4 cup scallions, cut 1/8-inch rounds
1/4 cup fresh chopped (cilantro)
1/2 cup diced goat cheese

To prepare dressing: combine vinegar, lemon juice and salt, mix to dissolve, then whisk in the oil and pepper. Can be prepared several days ahead and refrigerated.

Place lentils in sauce pan and add the stock or water. Cover and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer until the lentils absorb the stock, about 40 minutes. Remove from heat, leave the cover on, and let the lentils relax for 30 minutes.

Transfer lentils to a bowl and let cool completely. Mix the lentils with the chives, cilantro and ground cumin.

Add most of the dressing to the lentil mixture (you may not use all the dressing). Gently fold in the cheese in chunks at the very end, after the lentils are cool and have been dressed. Check if salad needs additional salt. Serve. This salad can be made several hours ahead.


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Cooking For Others: Playing House

EVENT: L.A. Bon Voyage Dinner
VENUE: Amy’s House, Los Angeles
PARTY SIZE: 4
TYPE: Formal(ish) Dinner Party
MENU: Orange and Red Shrimp Curry; Arugula Salad with Ginger-Honey Vinaigrette
WINE: 2007 Santa Barbara Winery Chardonnay

A few months ago, over dinner at my parents' table in Martha’s Vineyard, my mother’s friend Amy offered up her house should I ever need a place to stay in Los Angeles. To all reading, warning: do not present me with this type of offer unless you really mean it, because I will find some way, some how to make it to your city, and then your doorstep. But I knew Amy was being genuine: she also told me my corn cakes were delicious, and then preceded to eat five more.

So a few weeks ago I went out to LA for my cousin’s wedding and, with Amy’s house in mind, decided to extend my stay for a week. She was still on Martha’s Vineyard, soaking up whatever October sun Mother Nature decided to throw her way, but she had two young independent filmmakers, whose praises she couldn’t stop singing, holding down the fort until she returned to the West.

Chris and Tianna turned out to be just as wonderful as Amy described, and they made me feel incredibly at home in their adopted home away from home. My days there began to meld with the serenity of my surroundings--a little casual reading or writing on the porch, say, while Chris grilled up the last of the garden’s zucchini, and I marveled at how anyone could get work done in a town that is always 70 degrees and sunny.

My last three days in L.A., it rained. A miserable, chilly, completely un-Californian rain. But the kind of weather that nonetheless makes me want to do little else than hole-up inside and cook. And for that purpose, Amy’s house could not have been more inviting. Her kitchen was a dream, the likes of which, I have not gotten to cook in since our pilgrimage to Cara’s mother’s house back in April.

On my last night, before catching the Red Eye back to New York, I decided to cook up a feast for my housemates and give them something to remember me by during the days that followed--the leftovers that would greet them every morning in their fridge. Since summer was apparently over in L.A. as in New York, I made a sweet and savory shrimp curry using all of the beautiful fall vegetables that were in strong display at the market (supermarket, that is, since the farmers was rained out). The bright orange butternut squash, sweet potato, and mango (had to put Cali in there somewhere) and the rich red curry base made this the perfect stew to welcome in the colors of the season.

We ate in Amy’s dining room and waved to each other across the long, formal table. It felt like some sort of last supper, and I guess, in many ways it was. I was leaving on a jet plane within hours, and soon Chris and Tianna would be returning to Silverlake to their apartment. It felt very civilized living and dining at Amy’s, and in addition to the beautiful roof over my head, it was this little taste of adulthood that I cannot thank her enough for. But until I have an actual dining room table of my own, on this coast or out West, I will longingly look forward to the next offer to come play house in hers.

From my kitchen, where I'm writing Amy the most heartfelt thank you note, to yours,

Phoebe, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipe**

2007 Santa Barbara Winery Chardonnay

We washed this meal down with a bottle of Chardonnay I brought back from my day trip to Santa Barbara. My friend Joanie works for the winery and took me through the whole process of how this particular chardonnay was made. Things always taste a little better once you understand where they came from, but regardless, this is a delicious mid-level wine, and one I will be buying again in the near future.

Orange & Red Shrimp Curry
Makes 4-6 Servings

This recipe was inspired by Nigella Lawson’s Red Shrimp & Mango Curry, but it's really just your basic Thai Red Curry with root veggies and seafood. I used a lot more Red Curry paste than the original recipe called for, probably due to the weakness of the Thai Kitchen jar I bought at Whole Foods. If using an authentic Thai paste from a can (you can easily find this in Chinatown), you might end up putting in less. Either way, it’s best if done to taste. You can also use any variety of squash, pumpkin, or yam. I ended up adding delicata squash to the curry since I found a beautiful one at the store.

Ingredients

1 large Vidalia onion, thinly sliced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2-4 tablespoons red Thai curry paste (or according to taste)
1 14-oz can coconut milk
2 cups chicken stock
1 tbsp fish sauce (nam pla)
1/2 butternut squash, peeled and cut into 1 inch cubes (about 3 cups)
1 sweet potato, peeled and cut into 1 inch cubes (about 2 cups)
1 lb peeled and deveined shrimp with the tails on
1 mango, peeled, cored, and cut into small cubes
½ lime, juiced
3-4 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro

Coat a large Dutch oven or lidded sauté pan with olive oil and sauté the onion. When translucent, add the garlic and cook for another minute. Stir in the curry paste and toss to coat the vegetables. Add the coconut milk, stock, and fish sauce and bring to a boil.

Stir in the squash and simmer, covered, for 10 minutes or until cooked through but not completely tender. Cook for an additional 5 minutes uncovered. When the squash is completely tender, add the shrimp. Cook for 3-5 minutes, until the shrimp are pink, and then add in the mango, lime juice, and 2 tablespoons of cilantro.

Taste for seasoning, and garnish with the remaining cilantro. Serve over white or brown jasmine rice with a side salad.


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Cooking For Others: Fall Farmers' Market

EVENT: Pre-Movie Dinner Date
VENUE: Cara's apartment, Park Slope
PARTY SIZE: 2
TYPE: From the Farmers' Market (and the freezer)
MENU: Rockfish in Fennel-Saffron Broth, Orange Sweet Potatoes, Roasted Fennel
PHOTOS BY: Alex

Last Saturday, I was among the first 20 people to arrive at the farmers' market. Now, this is not an easy feat in Park Slope, land of the chipper young parent and early-bird dog owner. But I was out bright and early for a different reason than my neighbors, one that had little to do with maturity. I was on my way to the Bronx, first to a dreaded dentist appointment, and then to play in a slightly less dreaded alumni field hockey match at my high school. Though the homecoming game, in which we alumni would be playing the current varsity team, wasn't until noon, I had a trek ahead of me--the subway to Union Square, a car key handover at my older sister Jill's, then acceleration up the FDR to the Deegan to the Bronx River Parkway, an hour under the painful pricking of a dental hygienist, a stop at my mom's to pick up my old field hockey gear, and finally, arrival at Fieldston, where I spent five long days a week, from 1989 until 2003.

With all that ahead of me I sprinted through the market, grabbing things at random: fresh apples, fingerling potatoes, a pair of sweet potatoes, and, in my sleepy haze, an unlikely bulb of fennel. I dropped everything at home, pulled on my sports clothes and sneakers, and made a run for the train.

Back in high school, Phoebe and I, as well as our friends Jordana, Jessy, Essie, Leora, Carolyn, and Sam, were on the championship-winning (it wasn't a very competitive league) varsity team. We were athletic, and we had to be: every day after school, we ran and did drills for three hours. It goes without saying that we don't exactly get three hours of daily exercise anymore, perhaps weekly, if we're lucky. Playing an entire game of field hockey, therefore, caused Phoebe, Jessy, and I (the only volunteers from our old crew) to pant, wheeze, and pull muscles we'd be complaining about for days. Though by the end our skills came back to us slightly, and we nearly won the game against our energetic 16 year-old opponents, by the time the final whistle blew, the three of us were ready to head back to the city and our sedentary lives.

Sam, Jessy, Cara, Phoebe, Essie, and Ali circa 2002

I got home, showered off the shin guard sweat, and started to think about dinner. Fortunately, I didn't have much planned for the night, so I told Alex I'd make us a meal at home before heading back out to watch Matt Damon in The Informant. I got in to bed, aiming to nap and recover. But then my muscles started tightening, and making some big fancy dinner stopped seeming so feasible.

Hoisting myself out of bed around 6pm was as athletic a feat as the goal I'd scored earlier (off of Phoebe's assist, obviously), and as I began cooking, things like lifting a spatula and washing a dish started to seem equally taxing. And at this point, as there was no way I was leaving the house, I was going to be working with the morning's farmers' market yield, supplemented by the array of Alaskan fish I had in my freezer, acquired from Essie's father when I stopped by to collect some of her things to bring with me to Mozambique. Fennel, perhaps the most off-the-cuff of my purchases, turned out to be priceless: the bulb functioned both in the fish's cooking broth and in the vegetable side, and the green, dill-like leaves acted as a seasoning.

From my kitchen, where I've committed to running hill sprints every morning, to yours,

Cara, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

2009 Alumni Field Hockey Match
(the twenty-somethings had a hard time getting up after this photo was taken)

**Recipes**

Rockfish in Fennel-Saffron Broth, Orange Sweet Potatoes, and Roasted Fennel
Serves 2

The best way to time this is to bake the sweet potatoes first, then cool and season them and reheat them just before serving. Then, start roasting the fennel about 20 minutes before the fish goes in. Put the fish in and cook both fish and fennel for the final 20 minutes. I've written up all three recipes together, but of course you can make either of the vegetable sides without the fish.

Ingredients

2 filets rockfish (striped bass, or other flakey white fish)
1 large bulb fennel
1 shallot (or 1/4 of a medium onion), very thinly sliced
1/4 teaspoon saffron threads, crumbled
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup white wine
1/2 cup broth or water
2 medium sweet potatoes
1 tablespoon good-tasting olive oil
2-3 tablespoons fresh orange juice
pinch of nutmeg
salt

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Roast the sweet potatoes on the oven rack for 45 minutes to an hour, until they're quite soft. Set aside until they're cool enough to handle. When they are, scoop the potatoes out of the skin, add the orange juice, nutmeg, and salt, and gently mash so the potatoes are nearly smooth but not gluey. Taste for citrus flavor and salt, then keep warm (or reheat) for serving.

While the potatoes are cooling, trim the fennel, keeping 2 teaspoons of the green dill-like leaves. Remove the outermost husk and reserve it. Cut the remaining bulb into 8 wedges. Brush the wedges with olive oil, arrange them on a baking sheet, and roast for about 40 minutes.

To make the fish: warm the broth slightly. Add a pinch of salt and the saffron, and stir to combine.
Slice the reserved fennel into very thin slices, and arrange them in the bottom of a small baking dish. Scatter the sliced shallot over them, then sprinkle with salt. Arrange both filets in one layer over the vegetables and sprinkle with more salt. Pour the wine and the saffron-flavored broth over the fish. Cover tightly with foil. Reduce the oven temperature for 375°F and bake for 20 minutes until the fish flakes.

Heat the sweet potatoes in the microwave or in a small saucepan. Serve a mound of sweet potatoes with a filet draped over and roasted fennel on the side. Pour the extra saffron broth into a bowl and serve alongside. (You can also serve the fish in shallow bowls in the broth, then eat the sweet potatoes on the side.)
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Working With What You Have: Food, Obstructed

DISH: Eggplant Caponata Crostini with Pomegranate-Balsamic Drizzle
MAIN INGREDIENTS: Eggplant (Purple); Golden Raisins (Fruit); Basil (Local)

On Sunday, as I reported on The Huffington Post, twelve foodie hopefuls kicked off the first installment of The Food Obstructions' monthly cook-off by gathering at The Gutter, a Williamsburg bowling alley I've been to before on weekends and never thought would have passed the Department of Health's regulations for a cooking competition.But given the contest's parameters, which placed five culinary obstacles between each contestant and our dishes, it seemed rather fitting that we embrace the unusual set up and regard our serving space, the edge of a banister, as just another obstruction.

The contest was dreamed up by Karol Lu and David Roderick, veterans of cook-offs hosted by Matt Timms of the Chili-Takedown and Cathy Erway, whose blog Not Eating Out in NY drew both first-time contestants and longtime heavy hitters alike to compete for foodie perfection in the face of this contest's preordained adversity.

That adversity took the form of five obstructions that all competitors had to yield to. The contest decreed that our dishes: 1) Must include at least one ingredient that is the color purple 2) Could not contain pork or pork products 3) Must include at least one locally-sourced ingredient (grown or raised within 100 miles) 4) Must contain both a fruit and a vegetable and 5) Could not cost more than $25 to make.

Being a newbie, my primary goal was not to embarrass myself. For my dish, this meant a simpler approach than most -- a room temperature (chafing dishes be damned) Eggplant Caponata atop a crispy, garlicky crostini. I added golden raisins to satisfy the fruit part of the "Fruit & Vegetable" obstruction and brought the "Locally Sourced" obstruction as close to home as possible by garnishing each slice with basil leaves from the plant in my apartment, which I hope will live to see another competition.

I thought of this caponata not just because eggplant happened to be the first purple ingredient that came to mind, but due to the recipe's humble origins. I developed this dish years ago while studying in Rome in one of the most obstructed living spaces I have inhabited in my short span of urban quarter-life rentals. Six of us were crammed into a tiny apartment right off of Camp dei Fiori, an exquisite outdoor market and the city's best source for inexpensive, fresh produce. To save money for the requisite pair of Italian leather boots and nights out at the discothèque, we cooked many a family dinner, one person in the kitchen at a time.

This appetizer was a favorite of my housemates and, due to the rustic elegance of its presentation, I was always asked to make it when parents were visiting. Though the dish did little to prove how grown up and self-sufficient we were (the apartment smelled like old socks), it did its part to ensure the visiting adults that we ate sophisticated, fabulous food all the time. And, for the most part, we did.

My old eggplant bruschetta has certainly been punched up since my Rome days -- the version for The Food Obstructions' contest included a Pomegranate-Balsamic reduction (an additional layer of purple), drizzled on each individual slice of crostini, as opposed to the standard vinegar I usually fold into the mixture at the end of the cooking process. Unfortunately, those judging my culinary prowess also took an upgrade in sophistication, their palates passing up my Italian peasant dish for the more complex Pink Peppercorn Beef with Plum Sauce (another first time contestant and winner of the whole shebang) and "Ham Hock" Pea Soup topped with a seaweed salad, homemade crisp, and a few other components that earned the dish its rightful place in the winners circle.

Read more at: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/big-girls-small-kitchen/a-food-competition-obstru_b_327964.htm.

I may not have come away with a prize, but the many looks of joy as diners bit into delicacies like my neighbor's pumpkin jelly donuts were enough to make me want to return for the next month's set of eccentric challenges and unobstructed fun.

Read more at: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/big-girls-small-kitchen/a-food-competition-obstru_b_327964.html

From my kitchen, where occasionally the obstructions are intentional, to yours,

Phoebe, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipe**

Eggplant Caponata Crostini with Pomegranate-Balsamic Drizzle
Makes 50 bite-sized servings
Budget: $15 (satisfying the "Budget" obstruction of $25)

This recipe is such a go to, it was actually the subject of our first post EVER on Big Girls, Small Kitchen. My how we (not to mention this eggplant) have grown.

Ingredients

For the crostini:

3 fresh French baguettes, cut on the bias into thin slices
olive oil
2 garlic cloves, crushed
red pepper flakes

For the caponata:

4 tbsp olive oil
3 medium eggplant (or two large), cut into ½ cubes
2 Vidalia onions, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 (12oz) can of fire-roasted diced tomatoes
1 cup golden raisons
3/4 cup basil, coarsely chopped (reserve 1/4 for garnish)
1/3 cup balsamic vinegar
3 tbsp pomegranate juice
salt and red pepper to taste

In a large cast-iron skillet or Dutch oven, heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil over medium heat. Add as much eggplant as will fit in the pan without over flowing. You can either sauté the eggplant in two batches or continue to add the excess cubes as the eggplant breaks down and space frees up in the pan. Sautee for 15-20 minutes until the eggplant is soft but not falling apart, adding more olive oil as needed. Remove and set aside.

In the same pan, add the additional olive oil, garlic, and onions and sauté over medium heat until the onions are soft and translucent. Add the eggplant back to the pan. Continue to sauté over medium to low heat until flavors have combined (about 5 minutes).

Using the lid to keep the solid contents from spilling out, drain half of the juice from the can of tomatoes into the sink. Add the tomatoes and partial juices to the eggplant mixture. Bring the flame back up to medium-high and cook for ten more minutes, until the acidity of the tomatoes has cooked off and the eggplant is beginning to fall apart.

Place the golden raisons in a shallow boil and cover with hot water. Allow to sit for ten minutes to rehydrate, drain, and then add to the eggplant mixture.

The eggplant mixture can be made up until this point a day or two in advance. When ready to serve (the caponata is just as good at room temperature) add ½ cup of the basil and stir to combine.

Preheat the oven to broil.

Arrange the baguette slices on a rimmed baking sheet. Heat a small bowl of olive oil, crushed garlic, and red pepper flakes in the microwave until fragrant. Brush each slice with the infused oil. Toast the bread in the oven for 2-5 minutes, until the slices are golden brown and crispy, but not completely hard. Set aside and allow to cool.

While the bread is toasting, combine the balsamic and pomegranate juice in a small saucepan and bring to a boil. Simmer for one minute, season with salt, and set aside.

Scoop eggplant mixture onto individual baguette slices, garnish with a torn basil leaf, and drizzle with a small amount of the balsamic-pomegranate reduction.

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Recipe Flash: Butternut Squash & White Bean Puree

MENU IDEAS: Appetizer / Butternut Squash & White Bean Puree; Main Course / Lemon-Garlic Roasted Chicken Breasts; Vegetable / String Beans a la Marc; Dessert / Pumpkin Pecan Chocolate Chip Bread

This past week on Food52, Amanda and Merrill made a call to action for the Best Autumn Vegetable Puree. Since I had bought a HUGE butternut squash at the farmers' market, I was inspired to transform it into puree form, even though I never managed to write up my recipe in time for the contest deadline. Regardless, my puree was quite a success, and I had so much of it that I took half to our friend Evan’s birthday potluck as a topping for crostini, and ate the other half for lunch on Monday with a sprinkling of croutons (leftover from the crostini, naturally) and some bacon, sage, and shallots that I had sitting in my fridge.

I often steer clear of straight purees for fear that the end result will resemble baby food. That’s where the white beans come in. The beans really bulk up this recipe and give it a little more body than your average super sweet squash puree. And the toasted bread (whether under or over) adds a perfect crunch to the whole dish.

From my kitchen, albeit small, to yours,

Phoebe, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipe**

Butternut Squash & White Bean Puree with Bacon-Sage Croutons
Makes 4 side servings

To use this puree as a delicious topping for crostini, simply skip the croutons, toast the bread slices under the broiler, and top with a dollop of butternut squash and a sprinkle of the crispy bacon and sage.

Ingredients

For the puree:

1 small (1 1/2lb) butternut squash, peeled, seeded, and cut into 1 inch cubes
1 tbsp maple syrup
1 15oz can cannelloni beans, drained and rinsed
½ stick butter, melted
chicken stock (optional)

For the topping:

5 slices maple bacon, chopped
1 cup ciabatta bread, cut into ½-1 inch cubes
1 large shallot, coarsely chopped
12-15 sage leaves

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

On a rimmed baking sheet, drizzle the butternut squash with olive oil and a sprinkle of salt. Toss together with the maple syrup and roast in the oven for 15-20 minutes, until the squash is tender and caramelized.

Turn the oven temperature down to 350 degrees.

On another baking sheet, toss together the ingredients for the topping with a drizzle of olive oil and season lightly with some salt and pepper. Bake for 15-20 minutes, until the bread is golden brown, the bacon has rendered all its fat, and the sage is dark and crispy.

In the meantime (while the topping roasts), puree the squash and the beans in a food processor or push them through the coarsest attachment of a mouli (I prefer this option for texture reasons). Fold in the melted butter and thin to your desired consistency with stock. If you prefer a thicker puree, this won’t be necessary. Taste for seasoning.

Serve the puree in the middle of a large platter or in individual bowls with a handful of the croutons, crispy bacon, and sage.


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Potluck Parties: "Park Avenue Potluck Celebrations"

EVENT: The Naptime Chef's Book Launch Party
VENUE: The World Wide Web
TYPE: Virtual Potluck
DESSERT: Praline Pumpkin Pie

We were invited by The Naptime Chef to participate in a “virtual” dinner party with food bloggers and writers, to celebrate a book she's helping to release, Park Avenue Potluck CELEBRATIONS.
It's the sequel to the best-selling cookbook, Park Avenue Potluck, and it comes out today. Created and authored by members of The Society of Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center (MSKCC), the new cookbook is about celebrating with food, and so it has a compilation of sensational recipes, entertaining ideas, party-planning tips, and personal anecdotes from New York’s most celebrated hostesses. Award-winning food writer and contributing New York Times columnist, Florence Fabricant has edited each recipe, as well as contributed to the book.

Phoebe and I took our time getting our feet wet in the virtual world. When we started Big Girls, Small Kitchen, our intent was simply to record the food we made - in photos and in stories - and allow readers to feel as though they were our guests. Though this idea is surely virtual, we liked to think that we were focusing on the realness of the food, the fact that we were actually cooking and eating and sharing with friends. It's only more recently that we've expanded our social circle to include virtual friends, those that we've made with the help of Internet's tools: Twitter, online food communities, and blog cross-posting.

As soon as we did get involved, we realized how productive and, yes, real, the blog community could be. So when The Naptime Chef invited us to participate in this inter-blog potluck, we were excited to make our friendship official at the virtual table. Phoebe first "met" Kelsey on Twitter, soon after we created the BGSK account, and soon the two were @-ing away, chatting about restaurants and summer activities on Martha's Vineyard. Now, we tweet with lots of people, but we're friendly enough with Kelsey to be invited to the "dinner parties" she throws.

In addition to great food shared amongst "friends," this virtual dinner party will be supporting the fight against cancer, and that's the other 3/4 of why we're participating (the first 1/4 being our general enthusiasm about the online world): a portion of the proceeds from the sale of Park Avenue Potluck CELEBRATIONS will provide funding for The Society’s patient care, research and education programs at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center. For the rest of the contributions to the party meal, check out The Naptime Chef's post about the entire potluck, which will be up early this evening.

From our kitchen, always ready for a virtual party, to yours,

Cara and Phoebe, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOKS

**Recipe**

Praline Pumpkin Pie
Makes 12 servings

This is the ultimate fall pie - pumpkin on the bottom, pecan on the top. It satisfies the craving for creaminess and spiciness with the pumpkin and for caramel and nuttiness with the pecan praline topping.

Ingredients

½ recipe Pastry for Pies (I used a recipe from Christopher Kimball's, The Dessert Bible, but go with your preferred crust)
2 tablespoons apricot jam
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons canned, frozen, or freshly cooked unseasoned pumpkin puree
¾ cup granulated sugar
1¾ cups heavy cream
6 tablespoons whole milk
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
2 tablespoons dark rum
¾ teaspoon ground cinnamon
¾ teaspoon ground ginger
¼ teaspoon grated nutmeg
¼ teaspoon ground cloves
½ teaspoon salt
½ cup light brown sugar
½ cup coarsely chopped pecans
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.

Roll out the pastry and line a 9-inch glass pie pan. Trim the edges and crimp with a fork. Line the pastry with a sheet of foil and pile in pastry weights or dried beans. Bake the crust for 10 minutes, then remove the foil liner and weights and bake for another 10 minutes, until lightly colored.

Remove from the oven and cool.

Reduce the oven temperature to 375 degrees. Brush the bottom of the crust with the jam. Place the pumpkin puree in a large bowl and beat in the granulated sugar, 3/4 cup of the cream, the milk, eggs, rum, spices, and salt. Pour into the prepared crust, place in the oven, and bake for 20 minutes, then reduce the oven temperature to 325 degrees and bake for about 20 minutes longer, until the filling is set. Remove from the oven and cool completely on a rack.

Preheat the broiler. Combine the brown sugar, pecans, and melted butter in a small bowl and sprinkle over the top of the pie. Cover the crimped pastry edge with a strip of foil and broil for a few minutes, just until the topping bubbles, watching carefully (note from Cara: REALLY carefully) so it does not burn. Transfer the pie to a rack and cool completely, about 1 hour.

Whip the remaining 1 cup cream and serve it with the pie.

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Working With What You Have: Too Many Peanut M&Ms;

RECIPIENT: Sister Kate
REASON: Champion Commenter
TYPE: Gratitude, as usual
GOODS BAKED: Peanut M&M Blondies

I've been known to add the odds and ends of my pantry and fridge to my blondie, cookie, and brownie batters. Nothing gross of course, but a handful of raisins, a bit of lemon zest from a lemon I bought for some savory purpose, maybe some sweetened shredded coconut lingering in the freezer. It's all about being resourceful, really.

Back when I was catering, in college, I made great use of the flexibility of my go-to cookie-dough base, customizing it with chocolate, nuts, fruit, spices, and candy. I'd mix up a double batch of this basic dough (butter, sugar, brown sugar, eggs, flour, baking soda, and salt) and divide it into thirds or fourths. To one part, I'd add cinnamon, diced apple, and toasted walnuts; to another, milk chocolate and toffee. I'd stir regular old dark chocolate chips into a third, and tweak the last with white chocolate, macadamia nuts, and coconut. (And on and on.) That way, when I arranged the cookies on a plate to serve, the guests would be able to bask in the variation, giving themselves an excuse to have not one but four cookies.

All of which is to say that when you're working with such an enticing base, you've got a lot of leeway with add-ins. Everything goes with butter and sugar, and a whole lot goes with chocolat.e In other words, it's hard to mess up.

I feared I finally would, though, when I poured the remains of a BJ's-sized bag of Peanut M&Ms, left over from my barbecue, into the blondie batter I was making last week. Would the vibrant colors from the candy shells melt into the batter? Would the blondies look radioactive instead of exuberantly colorful? Could I still cut neat little squares? What if I substituted regular or almond M&Ms?

Then I realized that with all these questions I was starting to sound a little bit like Kate, my younger sister, who's better known on Big Girls, Small Kitchen, for having a .90 batting average in our comments section. Though she goes to college and is on a full meal plan, there are few meals too complicated or exotic for Kate to pass up commenting on. In appreciation of her constant attention to our posts, I sent Kate these fantastic, fun, and delicious blondies. Though they were austere, in one sense—being made from ingredients I already had—they were completely over the top in another—being extra sweet, super peanut-y and brightly colored.

Anyway, we love your comments, Kate. And we're infinitely grateful for everyone's participation. So to all the reader-lurkers out there, if you haven't put two and two together, commenting = blondies.

From my kitchen, where I love my sister and her comments, to yours,

Cara, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipe**

M&M Blondies
Makes 24 blondies

Ingredients
1 package light brown sugar (2 1/2 cups)
1 stick butter (1/2 cup)
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups peanut M&Ms

Preheat the oven to 325°F. Grease a 9x13" baking pan. Use a smaller baking pan for thicker blondies—just bake a bit longer.

Combine the brown sugar and butter in a small saucepan. Heat over medium heat until the butter is melted and combined and the whole mixture just begins to bubble. Remove and let come to room temperature. This will take about 20 minutes; speed it up in the fridge if need be.

When the butter and sugar have cooled, beat in the eggs and vanilla. Add the flour and salt, then gently stir in the M&Ms. Pour into the prepared pan and bake 25-30 minutes, until the top has gotten slightly puffed and crusty. Cool, and cut into small rectangles.

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Big Girls, Global Kitchens: Salmorejo Cordobes

DISHES: Salmorejo (Cream of Gazpacho Soup); Carrots with Parsley Butter
MAIN INGREDIENTS: Tomato, Bread, Garlic
TYPE: Orange. Adventurous.

In my global food reminiscences, I keep coming back again and again to my two-month post-college travel adventure—in particular, the final two weeks I spent flying solo in southern Spain. I’ve been trying ever since I returned to recreate some of the tapas I sampled during the meals of this trip, and always seem to fall a little short when it comes to the expert simplicity of the presentation and flavors. One in particular that remains unsurpassed in my memory: Salmorejo Cordobes.

I first sampled this not in Cordoba, but further south, in a small beach town about an hour north of Cadiz. I had read about the beautiful shoreline of el Puerto de Santa Maria, and decided to take a day trip on a series of public buses to check it out. Halfway there, when I noticed there were no indications (even in Spanish) of what stops we were making, I realized I had really no idea where I was, or how to find the beach if I actually managed to get off the bus at the correct street corner.

During previous excursions to countries where I didn’t speak the language (mainly everywhere except Italy), I always fared well by relying on my talent for understanding expressive, charade-like hand gestures, and my faith in the kindness of strangers, a philosophy that earned me the nickname Blanche Dubois from Sophie, a former travel partner and theater enthusiast.

On the bus, I asked a nice toothless man in my broken Spanish how to get to this particular beach. I don’t really know how the conversation unfolded, but somehow I arrived at the understanding that my stop was two away, and that a nice young woman had also asked for directions to the same the beach, where she was heading alone as well. He suggested perhaps we should go together.

Rose, my new foreign friend, turned out to be a perfect match. We spent the rest of the day writing English words in the sand, looking through my phrase book, and attempting, with all the tools available, to understand each other. Over lunch, I was able to accumulate the facts of her abridged life story: Rose was a journalist, currently covering a story in Cadiz, and decided to check out the beach on her day off. She was 30, and recently engaged to her boyfriend, though they both still lived with their parents in separate homes. She explained as best she could about the conservative norms of courtship, before I was finally able to turn the conversation to food.

She asked if she could order for both of us and I, unable to persist in any language, agreed. Andalucian tapas are not quite as much fun to sample by yourself, especially when you’re unable to read most of the menu. For this reason, my meal with Rose was one of the most memorable of my Spanish travels, even if the patatas bravas and fried squid were surpassed in quality by other venues. The best introduction Rose made me was to a creamy cold tomato soup, of the same ilk as gazpacho, but in her opinion, and that of a recent disciple like myself, oh so much better. Together we shared a bowl garnished with two hard boiled eggs and some thickly cut Serrano jamon, and together, back in Madrid when we met up for a planned meal, we shared another. The night before I left to fly back to the States, Rose sent me off with a fancy designer lip gloss, an open invitation to come back to Spain for her wedding, and the memory of this soup, a gift I try to recreate in my kitchen again and again. Kindness indeed.

From my kitchen, where the Blanche in me is remembering a wonderful stranger, to yours,

Phoebe, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipe**

Salmorejo Cordobes: Cream of Gazpacho
Makes 3-4 appetizer servings

This Andalusian tapas is essentially gazpacho without the water. It can be served as an appetizer in individual bowls, or used as more of a condiment for dipping raw vegetables. Either way, the dish is an incredibly refreshing and soul satisfying soup.

Ingredients
1/2 stale baguette, crusts removed
6 tomatoes
2 garlic cloves
1 tsp salt
¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
4 tbsp wine vinegar
4 sliced serrano ham or proscuitto, torn in strips
2 hard-boiled eggs, sliced (optional)

Tear the bread into coarse pieces and drizzle with just enough water to wet but not soak. Let stand for a few minutes while you prepare the other ingredients.

Bring a large pot of water to boil. Add the tomatoes and blanche for just a minute. Allow to cool and remove the skins. They should fall off easily. Add to the food processor with the garlic and bread. Blend until smooth. Add the salt, and pour in the olive oil in a stead stream while blending. Add the vinegar and puree again.

Taste for seasoning. If the soup is too thick, add a little more oil. Cover and chill for an hour. This can also be done up to a day before.

To serve, place the soup in a bowl and garnish with a few strips of ham and some hardboiled egg, if using.

on the side: to round out this orange meal, some carrots sauteed in butter, with a sprinkle of parsley

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Recipe Flash: Red Pepper Risotto

I like to think of this dish as a perfect union between Italy and Spain—a classic dish from one country, spiced up with flavors from the other. I’ve been having a bit of a love affair recently with pipérade—a smoky red pepper sauce from Basque country, which has become condiment-like in my repertoire, appearing in anything and everything on my plate. I made a vat of it and used half for my breakfast Pizzas with Crispy Prosciutto, and the other for this risotto. This particular combination was such a success, I’ve come back to it again and again. The hot smoked paprika (known as pimentón in Spain) in the red pepper mixture adds an unexpected twist to rich, creamy risotto. The dish is finished with freshly grated Parmesan and torn basil to offset the heat, and the end result is thoroughly satisfying, if more intense than your everyday veggie risotto.

From my kitchen, albeit small, to yours,

Phoebe, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipe**

Smokey Red Pepper Risotto with Pimentón
Makes 4-6 servings

Ingredients

For the red pepper mixture:

1/2 onion, finely diced
1 red bell pepper, finely diced
1 teaspoon smoked paprika (or pimentón)
pinch cayenne
1 garlic clove, minced
2 plum tomatoes, seeded and finely diced

For the Risotto:

1 quart chicken stock
½ onion, finely diced
1 garlic clove, finely chopped
1 1/2 cups Arborio rice
1 tsp salt
1 cup white wine
½ cup freshly grated Parmesan
10-15 basil leaves, roughly torn

Place your stock in a large measuring cup or bowl. Heat in the microwave for 3-4 minutes until warm.

In a large deep skillet or medium Dutch oven, sauté the onion in enough olive oil to coat the bottom of the pan. Once translucent, about 3-5 minutes, add garlic and sauté for an additional minute. Add the rice and stir so it becomes coated in the oil and onion mixture. Cook for about 3 minutes to get the rice lightly toasted. Add the salt and the wine and cook, stirring, until nearly evaporated, about 1 minute. Return the heat to medium, and add ½ cup of stock, stirring occasionally until the rice has absorbed the liquid. Add the next ½ cup of stock and repeat the process.

While the risotto is working slowly, you can turn the majority of your attention to the red pepper mixture. In a saucepan 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 carefully stir in the tomatoes. Simmer until some of the juices have evaporated, the sauce has thickened, and the vegetables are very tender, about 5 minutes. Turn off the heat and taste again for seasoning.

Once the stock is almost gone, and the risotto has only a slight bite to it, add the red pepper mixture and any additional liquid if necessary. Stir to combine. When the risotto is at your desired texture and consistency, stir in the basil and ¾ of the parmesan, and take the pan off the heat.

Taste for seasoning, and garnish with the additional parmesan and some torn basil leaves.

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Cooking For Others: Retro Birthday Barbecue

EVENT: Cara's Quarter Century
VENUE: Cara's Mother's House, Bronx
TYPE: Birthday Party
PARTY SIZE: 35
MENU: Retro BBQ: Peanut M&Ms, Pretzels, and Cape Cod Potato Chips; Homemade Onion Dip; Caprese Sandwiches; Hot Dogs and Chicken Sausages; Simple Salad; Vanilla and Chocolate Birthday Cake

Phoebe mentioned the Birthday Barbecue I was having in her ode to me, which was disguised as a post about baking. I couldn't have been more surprised by the customized Rice Krispie Treats she gave me at lunch on September 30th, the day before my birthday, or by the fact that, unbeknownst to me, she had thought strange, shy middle-school Cara was cool.

It was also a surprise to me that it rained just at 3pm, the time I'd invited guests up to Riverdale for my birthday barbecue. The weather really shouldn't have been, though. I had been checking for the likelihood of precipitation every hour since Wednesday, and from early Saturday morning on, all weather vanes were pointed pretty resolutely towards rain. Nonetheless, I plugged on, hauling and cleaning lawn furniture, searching the cluttered basement for an old wiffle ball. And then at 1:30 the sky cleared. And then, at 2:15, it started pouring.

Though in the end my guests and I got about an hour of meek yellow sunshine in just before sunset, the party was festive and perfectly cozy indoors. Besides my friends and besides me, the main event at the BBQ, was, as you might expect, the food. My sister and I determined that the best tone to take was of old-fashioned, not overly gourmet picnic fare, the kind of cuisine you might have eaten in the early 90s or so, back when I was a strange, shy middle-schooler. And the two triumphs, I think, were the onion dip, which I would never have made if we weren't aiming to be a little retro, and the birthday cake, for which I made two perfect layers of yellow cake from Nick Malgieri's new cookbook, The Modern Baker, frosted with the Rich Chocolate Icing recycled from childhood birthday cakes. Between the food, the guests, and my overly bright purple shirt, by the time the last party-goers had funneled out, and we'd cleaned up and done our best to drain the keg, I was pretty sure I'd out-celebrated any expectations I'd had for my birthday, and was ready to hike on towards 26.

Just kidding. I'll never be ready to turn 26.

From my kitchen, albeit small, to yours,

Cara, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

Lawn furniture occupied during a brief moment of sunshine.

**Recipes**

A few notes on the menu: the only recipe I've featured here is the onion dip, which I made up the night before the barbecue. I'd figured that the bulk of the food would come from the grill, and I simplified so we'd only be making hot dogs and sausages. No burgers, since they're messy and require a second type of bun. The caprese sandwiches were simply sliced fresh mozzeralla, sliced tomatoes, basil leaves, and balsamic vinaigrette, and I made them ahead of time so people, especially vegetarians, could nibble independent of the grill. At the last minute, I was pressured into making a salad, though originally I'd decided people would fill up on chips, pretzels, M&Ms, and baby carrots if the sausages didn't sustain them.

As for the cake, it was a wonderful recipe from Nick Malgieri, though you might not have noticed, since I used almost as much icing as cake. To make sure everyone had dessert (how was I supposed to know Sarah, Jack, and Evan were bringing a strawberry layer cake?), I also put out a plate of brownies and apple cake.

Onion Dip
Serves 30

Ingredients
1 1/2 tablespoons canola oil
2 large yellow onions, diced
1 large red onion, diced
2 large leeks, split in half vertically and cut into half moons
5 garlic cloves, pressed
2 teaspoons salt
1 1/2 cups mayonnaise
4 cups sour cream
fresh pepper

chips for serving

Heat the oil in a large frying pan over very low heat. Add the onions, and when they're just beginning to soften, add the leeks. Cook, stirring occasionally, for about an hour, until all the vegetables are fragrant and quite soft. Stir in the pressed garlic, cook for another minute or two, then add the garlic and cool to room temperature.

Combine the cooled sauteed onions with the mayonnaise, sour cream, and several grinds of black pepper.

Refrigerate at least 2 hours and preferable overnight. Before serving, taste for salt and flavor, adding a little more sour cream if the onions are too strong. Serve with chips or crudite.

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Baking For Others: Nostalgic for Apple Cake

DISH: Caramel Apple Cake
TYPE: College Nostalgia

This cake hearkens back to my college days in a very different way than dorm rooms, Solo cups or term papers. It was a mainstay of Adams House, where I lived sophomore, junior, and senior years. Adams was a "house" in the 400-person sense of the word, but since we called it home for three-quarters of college, there was a genuine sense of community that formed. The "parents" were a couple who taught at the Medical School, and every few Fridays they opened up their home (which sat in the middle of our dorm courtyard) to students for tea. Because they knew how hungry students would be from weeks of surviving on dining hall fare, tradition had it that the tables at these teas would be groaning under plates and plates of hearty homemade food.

Somehow, tradition also had it that those of us who volunteered to bake cookies and cakes in the nights preceding were paid by the hour. It probably was the best job I'll ever have, since I honestly would have done the baking for free. The recipes were mainly on single-sheet print outs, an archive of family recipes from dorm chefs past. There were some strange combinations—Pillsbury croissant dough filled with marshmellows, chocolate, and walnuts, called "chubbies," and chocolate chip cookies with pudding mix in the dough—and some classic ones, like apple and caramel.

We made the apple cake of this post for every single tea, without fail. But though the recipe calls for pouring the caramel on top of the cake, as pictured above, we had quite a singular—and frankly, a little bit gross—way of serving it.

We'd make two cakes each time, and we'd bake them in bundt pans. Then, on Friday afternoons before the hordes arrived, we'd pry them from the pans and cut them into awkward cubes. This was the job I liked best, since bundt pans aren't that conducive to cube-cutting, and I got to eat the scraps as I went. We'd simmer an easy caramel topping and pour it into a bowl, which we'd set in the middle of the apple cake platter. Toothpicks accompanied the platter when we served it, so students could dip the cubes into the caramel. By the end of the tea, the caramel would be thickened from cooling and from the conglomeration of crumbs that had fallen off in it.

Since college, I've often wondered exactly what the proportions were that made this cake so exquisitely delicious. I make a standard, oil-based apple cake on a regular basis, but it doesn't hit the same buttery-sweet notes that the Adams House cake did. And despite attempts to feed my nostalgia, I couldn't find a recipe anywhere that came close to the original.

I was about to get on a train to Cambridge to look for it, since it happens to be painted on a wall of the dorm's basement, when Food52, the user-generated cookbook website, came through for me, as the Internet always seems to these days. On Food52, there was a contest going on for "Best Apple Cake," and I browsed it, looking for something that might resemble the cake of my college days. Not only did I find the cake (Cambridge Apple Cake, by user Rachel325), but I found out a little more about its lore, too.

When I was first cooking at the teas, a recent grad named Jess was in charge. She knew all the ins and outs of the tea's and the house's traditions, but truthfully, I hadn't thought much about her in recent years. It turns out that Rachel was Jess's co-chef, though she was gone by the time I matriculated. In her Food52 recipe introduction, she evokes the atmosphere of the crowded, festive teas. I too remember the way 500 starving guests, including students who didn't actually live in Adams House, would swarm the tables, grabbing and eating, the ambitious ones camped out by the swinging kitchen door waiting for the freshest plate of finger food to be carried out, and ready, above all, to gorge themselves on cubes of apple cake coated in homemade caramel sauce.

From my kitchen, where hungry students call for caramel on their cake, to yours,

Cara, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

**Recipe**

Apple Caramel Cake
Makes 1 very rich loaf cake

Rachel325's recipe calls for oil in the cake, not butter, but I had only butter on hand. It makes the cake brown very nicely, almost like a tarte tatin. The secret that makes this cake so good, by the way, is that it has an extra half cup of oil in it than I ordinarily use in such cakes.

Ingredients

For the cake:
1 cup (2 sticks) butter
1 1/3 cups sugar
2 large eggs
1 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
2 cups chopped, peeled apples (about 2)
1 cup chopped pecans or walnuts

For the caramel sauce:
1 cup brown sugar
1/3 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup butter
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 pinch salt

Heat oven to 325 degrees. Grease a loaf pan.

In a large bowl cream the butter and the sugar with an electric mixer until fluffy. Add the eggs, beat well, then mix in vanilla.

In a separate bowl, stir together the flour, soda, powder and salt. Add these to the wet ingredients and mix until blended. Fold in the apples and the nuts. Pour batter into prepared pan and bake for 1 hour, or until toothpick comes out clean.

Meanwhile, combine the butter, sugar, and cream in a small saucepan. Over medium heat, melt them together stirring more or less constantly. When the edges start to simmer, cook for 3 more minutes, then add the vanilla and remove from the heat.

When the cake has cooled for 20 minutes, prick all over with a fork and spoon the caramel sauce evenly on the top.

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