Cooking for Others

Yesterday, in an uncharacteristic move, I served a pair of French toast dishes for brunch. I made two pans of baked blueberry and strawberry French toast, both rich with half and half and butter. Then I made a third pan of dairy-free baked French toast, that one rich with peanut butter and flavorful with bites of brown sugar-crusted banana. Surprisingly, the banana-peanut butter combo was the biggest hit, and friends gobbled it up alongside slices of bacon, roasted potatoes with homemade tomato chutney, and bloody Marys.

Though I’ve long advocated baked French toast as a brunch staple, I rarely serve platters of the rich, carby main. This is because I don’t love sweet breakfasts and brunches, and the host has to eat too.

But yesterday’s gloom and a desire for ease saw me running home from the supermarket two hours before friends were due to arrive with loaves of fluffy Portuguese white bread ready to be turned into French toast. I loved serving the two variations, and though my oven suffered from being overstuffed with pans of potatoes, bacon, and the French toast, brunch came together and we had a blast.

Also, I though I’d mention that I had never made my own bloody Marys before yesterday. But I’m one hundred percent stirring them together for all future brunches. (I followed Ina’s recipe.) Do you have a signature bloody Mary ingredient?

The other Tuesday night I did the thing where I invited friends over before thinking about what I would serve them for dinner. Four and a half years after moving to Brooklyn when everyone I knew lived in Manhattan, and a year after I wrote about these Brie and Red Pepper Crostini as bites I could serve to people stopping by unannounced–except for that never happened–we live in the midst of friends close enough to come over for an impromptu Tuesday night dinner. Lucky!

Only I didn’t have much to serve these friends, and I invited them for about a half hour too early to get deep into cooking anything. As I sprinted home on my bike, I mentally scanned the contents of my fridge and pantry imagining what I could whip up, and fixating on certain ingredients – extra asparagus from these, pre-grated cheese from a taco party, a lot of basil from a filming project we’d been working on over the weekend, and a container of the salad dressing I can’t get enough of. By the time I lugged my bike into the basement, I had a plan.

The centerpiece of dinner, the quesadillas, might not hide very well the fact that they were invented by necessity. The ingredients do appear a little hodgepodge. But as soon as you take a bite you’ll see why I’ve made these repeatedly in the weeks since Tuesday night’s dinner. The creamy chipotle spread brings a kick and a luscious richness. As the cheese melts, it glues the quesadilla together and enrobes the asparagus stalks, which are a nod to the season and balance out a the otherwise indulgent mix of ingredients.

We were talking again about Brussels sprouts recently, their transformation from weak-kneed punishment vegetable to coveted gourmet side. How did it happen? The answer, I argued, is roasting.

Even if you like steamed asparagus (unlike steamed sprouts), you’ll love asparagus that’s been roasted like sprouts. Oil, high heat, and salt turn almost any vegetable into a French fry-like edible.

I go one step further with this recipe. I took asparagus, and I roasted stalks between buttery sheets of phyllo dough that turn crispy just like the asparagus they enrobe. There’s also cheese–melty brie–and fresh thyme.

The idea came from a desire to expand my repertoire of asparagus cookery, since I guarantee we’ll be eating bundle sof it for the next few weeks. We’ll need variety. There’s always been puff pastry-wrapped asparagus, and I decided to try the same concept but with flaky, crispy phyllo.

Working with phyllo takes patience. The sheets that make this dish also have a tendency to stick together or tear. Be careful, and be patient. Once the asparagus packets have cooked, you’ll never be able to notice a little rip. But once you’re done wrapping up your asparagus, you’ll feel plenty confident with phyllo, perhaps confident enough to embark on the ultimate phyllo project–baklava.

These would be perfect as a first course at a Mother’s Day brunch or set out at any cocktail party you host this spring.

Find tons more phyllo recipes here, and check out my Mini Shrimp Phyllo Cups with Dill Pesto and Feta.

Yesterday, my sister Kate texted me to say she had made kibbeh for Lebanese Easter. Kibbeh is one of the dishes I’ve come across in my research on Middle Eastern cuisine, and it’s on my to-make list. But Kate lives in Arkansas, and she’s neither Lebanese nor Christian. Apparently, she’s on her own Middle Eastern journey.

As for me, today my Middle Eastern explorations take us to lamejun, spelled in a dozen variations. Whatever the spelling, the dish is common in both Armenia and Turkey.

I remember eating “pitza” almost daily when I visited Turkey–fresh flatbread with cheese, spices, and vegetables. But in my research, I found that most lamejun recipes used beef or lamb and no cheese at all.

To mesh my memories of cheesy Turkish pitza with what I was finding out about lamejun, I headed to Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn for the second time this month. This time, I stopped at Damascus, where I bought big floppy whole wheat pitas, at least twice as large and half as thin as the pitas I normally see. They would be the crust for my lamejuns.

Next, in a variation sanctioned by Ana Sortun, author of Spiceand chef at Oleana in Massachusetts, I swapped out the red meat and used ground chicken instead. Once you’ve bought your ground chicken, the process is really easy: you gently liven up the meat with onion, garlic, sumac, and paprika, then press it onto a round of pita or a big piece of lavash. I also used Sargento’s really thin slices of provolone, in an effort to bring back the cheese I remembered.

While baking, the chicken on the pizzas firm up, and the cheese bubbles and browns. Since the crust is so thin, these cool down right away – but they’re just as good at room temperature as they are warm. I like them cut into 4-inch squares or thereabouts, served as part of an appetizer or mezze spread, or packed for a picnic. You can also eat bigger pieces, rolled up in little tubes. We feasted on our leftovers as snacks all week–turns out lamejun is also good straight from the fridge.

This sponsored post is part of an ongoing collaboration with Sargento, called Flavor Journey. Throughout the year, with the support of Sargento, I’ll be exploring Middle Eastern cuisine–at home, in Brooklyn, and wherever the flavors may take me. Sponsored posts let me do some of my best work on this blog, and I only ever work with brands whose values and products mesh with the content I love to produce for you. You can read my affiliate disclosure here if you’re interested.

The afternoon before the evening I invited some friends over to eat this lasagna, I attended a panel of magazine editors. One editor, from an edgy, bad-ass magazine, was talking about how he loved to host dinner parties for friends, in response to a question I’d asked. He listed the main dishes he liked to prepare for his guests: experimental, high-fallutin, expensive, restaurant knock-off, labor-intensive, impressive food.

“I don’t make, like, lasagna,” he said.

And there I sat, thinking of my foil-covered lasagna in the fridge, assembled and partially baked last night so I’d only have to heat it up and throw together a salad before my friends came over at 7. This was a hearty, vegetarian lasagna stuffed with greens and garlic and lemon and ricotta. Cheap to make, satisfying to eat, not very hard to put together in advance.

From my seat at the panel, my heart went out to my lasagna, which didn’t even have a bechamel or a long-simmered meat sauce to recommend it.

As if to emphasize my laziness, I’d even invented a new shortcut: not cooking the lasagna noodles–regular ones, not no-boil. With a sauce that’s a little more watery than usual and a piece of foil sealing in the steam, it turns out the noodles cook while the lasagna bakes.

On weekday mornings, I compose my outfit from bed. Like Cher Horowitz on her ’90s fashion computer gadget, I scroll through my wardrobe–paltry, compared to Cher’s–in my head. That way, instead of trying on skirts and pants and shirts and then shedding them in piles on the floor when I hate the outfit I’ve put together, I can get dressed like a sane adult instead of like a teenage girl. (I also save time by adopting a winter uniform of corduroys, sweaters, boots, and messy hair, but don’t tell Cher that part.)

On weekend mornings, I sub in my pantry for my closet and shuffle through the options for breakfast or brunch. One of the can’t-beat-it traits of our apartment is its location across the street from the supermarket, so if my virtual pantry yields nothing inspiring, I’ll think about what’s on the supermarket shelves, which opens up the possibilities, especially if I have company coming like I did on Sunday.

I’m a savory brunch person. If you’re a sweet bruncher, leave this post immediately for the sugarier pastures of maple granola, French toast, and my childhood favorite–homemade raisin bread.

Because I skip the pancakes, I know that brunch will likely star the following: potatoes, bacon, bread, eggs, and cheese. There are dozens of ways I could assemble those delectable ingredients, and one of those ways turned out to include avocado and potato and bacon inside of a taco. These are potato tacos, breakfast potato tacos. I’d heard potato tacos existed but had never made them or eaten them, so forgive the makeshift nature of these guys. They’re merely a way of getting egg and potato and bacon into each bite. Yet with no creamy sauces or insane amounts of cheese, they’re also pretty healthful as brunch mains go.

The part of breakfast I couldn’t choreograph was the drink. Essie brought over Champagne and Ceres juice, which we mixed together for a stellar breakfast cocktail.

More breakfast sandwiches:

Bacon and Egg Sandwich with Pepperjack from Big Girls, Small Kitchen

Green Eggs and Ham Breakfast Sandwich from Big Girls, Small Kitchen

Individual Huevos Rancheros with Chipotle Black Beans from Big Girls, Small Kitchen

Poached Egg and Prosciutto Muffinwich from YumSugar

Sweet Potato Breakfast Biscuits from How Sweet Eats

Look, I’ve always been in the Super Bowl-watching game for the food.

A few weeks ago, I watched a playoff game with friends. But I didn’t really watch: I ate a burrito and talked to my friends. And I played a few games on my phone when the real football fans were watching.

Burritos aside, it feels like we’ve all developed a taste for comfort food in recent  years. Fried chicken and barbecue swept New York City. Most people I know would rather go out for brick-oven pizza than carefully plated seared tuna. Super Bowl day is when everyone – even the seared tuna lover – goes for wings, pizza, pulled pork sandwiches, artichoke dip, and BBQ chicken dip.

And that’s where my affiliation lies. Not with any one team, but with the glorious comfort cuisine of Game Day. Specifically, with barbecue chicken once it’s morphed with pizza and become a one-time-only event: Game Day BBQ Chicken Pizzettes. And all that works really quite well, considering that I’m taking part in the PuffectionTM Game Day Entertaining Challenge from Pepperidge Farm, which is all about the food.

To make these delicious two-bite pizzas, I cut circles of puff pastry – which you can do even before the dough is fully defrosted. In the past, we’ve posted about pizzettes with all sorts of flavors, but mostly Italian, like roasted fennel.  This time, instead of tomato sauce, I shredded some white meat chicken and mixed it with a quick homemade BBQ sauce.

I spread that on each little pizza round, leaving a little bit of space for the puff pastry to balloon up and form a crust.

On top of the BBQ chicken mix went shredded cheddar cheese. Then into the oven, and in 20 minutes, we’ve got cute and tasty little BBQ Chicken Pizzas. These are great straight from the oven, but they’re also good an hour or two later.

You can find tons more puff pastry recipes, tips, and how-to videos at puffpastry.com, and you can share your holiday puff pastry recipes on Pepperidge Farm’s facebook page here.

I wrote this sponsored post in partnership with Pepperidge Farm in order to show the impressive array of finger food you can make if you keep their puff pastry in your freezer at all times. And how I love puff pastry as a brilliant shortcut for pizzettes, pigs in a blanket, and garlic knots! I only ever share sponsored content when I know and admire the product. (You can read my affiliate disclosure here if you’re interested.) Thanks, Pepperidge Farm!