A Grain Bowl Recipe for Skeptics

If you have paid attention to anything food-related this past year, you will know that one of the most popular, healthy, hippie-ish dishes to hit the scene is

The Grain Bowl.

No, it's not your grandmother's bowl of oatmeal, Cream of Wheat or farina. It is a savory dish: a concoction of fiber-full, vitamin-packed ingredients that seem to have absolutely nothing to do with each other that are all piled on top of a base layer of cooked grain—in a bowl.

I don't know about you, but to me that sounds like either an incredibly boring meal or an incredibly healthy-to-the-point-I-don't-want-to-eat-it meal. Was I born in the '70s? Yes. Did my neighbor grow pot in his backyard and eat—right in front of our boggling eyes—the slippery, slimy seaweed that we brought home from the beach? Yes. Did we eat his wife's beans and rice and love it? Yes.

But a grain bowl???

Sigh. It just seems like it's trying too TOO hard to be part of the club, you know?

But the fuss! The number of restaurants popping up and serving these damn things! I mean, seriously.

That means...yup. You loyal readers know me. I decided I needed to give it a try. (I still do have a good three pounds of Italy to come off. And it's already FEBRUARY!!! My male readers will have no idea why I just said that about February. Ladies, you know what I'm saying...)

SO. I decided to start simple. And who did I go to as my guide? My ever-faithful, besties-in-the-kitchen, Bon Appetit mag. (I'm telling you, folks. If you want to learn to cook, subscribe to this magazine. If I could figure out how to get their ad on this blog, that would be the ONE ad I would actually add so you could just click and subscribe. The folks who write it are fun. They are real. They aren't afraid to admit they are still learning in the kitchen, too. They are like US! Woohoo! So, until I can figure out how to get their ad on my blog, here's the link to GO SUBSCRIBE TO BON APPETIT MAGAZINE!)

The picture they put in the magazine that totally tempted me and made me give in can be found on Bon Appetit's website here. I used page 52 of my oh-so-special, January subscriber-only issue of Bon Appetit to guide me and gathered up my bowl ingredients:

• pearled barley (it's what I had leftover from beef and barley soup)
• bunch of curly kale (one with smaller, more tender stalks)
• 2 small sweet potatoes
• half a brick of halloumi cheese (a Greek melting cheese that has a really nice salty flavor)
• slivered almonds
• sunflower seeds
• coriander seeds
• and mint leaves.

I put the barley on to boil in salted water for 45 minutes, then got to prepping the rest of the ingredients so they were ready to layer on after the barley was cooked, drained and cooled.

1. The sweet potatoes were scrubbed, dried, cut into 1-inch cubes, tossed with olive oil, salt, pepper and a little paprika (I like hot but regular, ol' sweet is good) and roasted for 30 minutes at 400° F in my toaster oven.
2. The curly kale leaves were cut from the stems (toss the stems), sliced crosswise then lengthwise, rinsed, dried and dumped in a bowl. I sprinkled them with a bit of salt and cider vinegar, then massaged them gently for about 30 seconds to start breaking down their tough fibers. The vinegar would do the rest while I moved on to my next ingredient.
3. The slivered almonds, sunflower seeds and coriander seeds were tossed on medium heat in a tiny bit of olive oil until they were golden brown and the coriander seeds started popping (about 1 minute), then drained on a paper towel and sprinkled with salt and pepper.
4. The mint leaves were rinsed, dried, and torn from their stems (stems tossed).
5. Now it was time for the dressing: In a small jar, I shook together 6 oz. olive oil, the juice of 1 lemon, 1 tsp. Dijon mustard, 1/2 tsp. honey, salt and pepper. This was more than enough dressing, but extra can be used on salad later.
6. At this point the barley was ready: it had a nice chew to it. It was drained then scattered on a towel-lined baking sheet to dry (I have an abundance of flour sack towels which I use for purposes such as this, not just for drying my hands. I go through a dozen in about three days. Just don't wash them with fabric softener!).
7. While the barley cooled, I fried the halloumi: I heated up a little bit of olive oil in a small cast-iron skillet (enough to just coat the bottom of the pan), browned both sides of the cheese, then sliced it.

Assembling all the parts into a bowl took all of one minute: the barley lined the bottom of a pasta bowl and was topped with a pile of kale greens, a scattering of roasted sweet potatoes, a few slices of fried cheese and a sprinkling of toasted seeds and mint leaves. It all was drizzled with the lemon-Dijon dressing, and voila!

My own, personalized grain bowl!

I think I had had a bit of wine at this point or I was really excited about my creation because I didn't realize until the next morning that I had gotten REALLY close on this pic. But, oh well. Because after I took my first bite of my first grain bowl EVER, I wanted to get that close and stay that close.

Does that mean it was delicious?

Yes.

A party in my mouth?

Yes!

A marching band of foods that combined into a perfect explosion of flavor and texture symmetry?

YES!!!

I think you know what I'm going to say to the "Will I make this again?" question. And you know what the beauty of this meal is? The parts can all be made or prepped ahead and simply reheated or quickly cooked as needed. A weeknight dinner that will make you happy in, OH! So many ways!

So, hippies! Rejoice! You converted a total skeptic, and I will declare it loudly to the world:

I LOVE GRAIN BOWLS!!!

But Dwight, wherever you are: the raw seaweed?

Hell, NO.

Ready to give the grain bowl a try? Leave a comment and let us know what you did! Go crazy! Use what you have and what you like! You'll give us some more ideas of things to try! 

An Old Hollywood Cocktail Party: Testing the Art of Food and Cocktail Pairing

We finally did it! (Hear me clapping?)

After years of talking about having an honest-to-goodness, old-fashioned, get-dressed-up cocktail party, we finally pulled one off. To help steer the dressing-up into a common vein, we themed the evening "Old Hollywood" and invited a smattering of our friends who love to drink great cocktails as much as we do with a glamorous, homemade invitation (love you, Paper Source! And, yes, I Photoshopped out our address!).

I had no idea how much our friends would get into it. One gentleman grew in a PERFECT Clark Gable mustache. His wife got a new haircut just for the party. Satin gloves, Murray's pomade, red lipstick, mink, feathers...they were everywhere! It was a scream.

My husband, three hours before the party, made personalized tags for the coupe glasses with each person's initials letterpressed into the brass. (I wasn't even going to THINK about using plastic coupe glasses, are you kidding me??? I actually ordered a case of Libbey's retro coupe glasses from Webstaurantstore.com for a great price! You do have to pay shipping, but I think you will find so many amazingly cheap things on that site that you want, it won't matter! )

The atmosphere was easy: dimmed lights, lots of candles, a fire in the fireplace, flowers everywhere, Frank Sinatra serenading.

The food and cocktails? That, my friends, took some serious research. We had to plan this baby out. I didn't want to have a cocktail party that ended with me worrying about people driving home completely sloshed. I did want to have a cocktail party that was memorable and delicious, so here is what we did...

Thanks once again to my sister's years-old birthday gift of The Flavor Bible, Chef Reiton and I created a list of classic cocktails that we love, then I matched up the flavors in each cocktail with corresponding flavors in foods. Thanks to this amazing book, I was able to create a menu of totally old-school hors d'oeuvres that still tasted fabulous AND paired beautifully with the cocktails that we were going to be serving.

Chef Reiton then wrote a spreadsheet to figure out how much of each cocktail to make, portioning it out so everyone got to try each one but ended up only drinking about three beers' worth of alcohol over the course of the evening.

Yes, we made everything from scratch. You don't need to, but we easily prepared all of the food the day before and the day of and just threw the few hot items in the oven right before they were served (the dates and the tart). To be honest, I did get a bit mixed up once and brought the melon and tart out late. Oops. I got distracted. But the plan was mostly pulled off smoothly... So, for your amusement or guidance, here you go:

Available at Arrival: Aperol Spritzers with Everything Spice-Coated Cheddar Cheese Ball (major hit), triple-creamed bleu cheese, Sartori's rosemary asiago, a variety of crackers, figs, red pears and Macoun apples to slice, marinated olives, and chili-jelly veal and beef meatballs in the Crockpot (oh, come on...how could I not?!?!)

(When everyone arrived we explained the evening's plan, how the food and cocktails were paired, that we weren't going to get them blitzed and then send them home, that the ashtray was out on the deck, etc. And theeeeeeeeen...)

Cocktail #1: The Sidecar (NO sugar rim! Gag.) with Parsi Deviled Eggs (from The Best 150 American Recipes) and bacon-wrapped dates (buy bacon; cut the strips in half or thirds; wrap a piece around a date; spear together with a toothpick; place on a cookie sheet with space between each piece; bake in 400º oven for 20 minutes, flipping halfway through. A-MAZ-ING.)

Cocktail #2: The Last Word with prosciutto-wrapped melon slices and an apple, roasted fennel, feta and arugala tart

Cocktail #3: Sage Brown Derby with chicken liver pate and crostinis and Mini Frittatas with Wild Mushrooms (also from The Best 150...)

Cocktail #4: Negroni with Cheddar Walnut Crisps and Sweet and Spicy Nuts (both from The Best 150... Great cookbook, I'm telling you!)

Cocktail #5: The Aviation with cucumber sandwiches with hummus on rye

Cocktail #6: Corpse Reviver #3 with lime-mint guac and salt-and-peppered pita toasts

Cocktail #7: Brandy Alexander with flourless chocolate cake (from Baked) and Brown Butter Dream Cookies (from...you guessed it: The Best 150...).

What an evening! The laughter! The food love! The new friendships made! I can see why people used to throw these parties all the time! Although we don't have the Hollywood budget to do this too too often, I know for sure that we will be doing this again!

Cheers, dah-lings!!!

The Beet Salad Recipe of Your Dreams

I don't know about you, but when dealing with vegetables, rarely does the word 'gorgeous' come to mind. Vegetables tend to look a bit—well, not the most attractive. Stand in the produce section, and take a look around. Fruit definitely wins out in the looks category. Veggies tend to remind you of gawky, bad-skinned, knob-kneed teenagers with consistently bad hair-days.

That is, until you look inside.

Suddenly, some veggies become positively striking. Like the beet I couldn't help but share in my old post Talk About Random.  Take a look at that beauty!

Maybe their gorgeousness is part of the reason why I've become addicted, but beets have suddenly turned into my go-to veggie for an easy lunch salad. Chef Reiton hates beets, no matter how hard he tries to like them, so my only way of eating them is when he isn't here. Lunchtime has become perfect for that.

"So—a beet salad???" you say (I can see that lip tweaking...).

Believe me, yes, and it's delish and incredibly easy. That is, after you roast the beets. Which is also easy. I'll even show you how tomorrow because I'm going to roast some tonight (please note: TONIGHT is key in my easy roasting and peeling method).

Alright, so back to the salad. In Real Simple's November 2015 issue there was an article on easy side dishes to create for the holidays. Modestly introducing their beet salad recipe was a small notation that their beet salad is so good, the RS crew make it all the time for their gatherings.  Intrigued, I made it for our Christmas dinner, and the entire family gave a resounding 'YES!' to it's deliciousness—despite it being made with beets.

Since then I have tweaked the recipe to fit with ingredients that I tend to have at home and that I can quickly toss together for lunch. Almost all of the ingredient amounts are to what I'm in the mood for that day. So, here you go: a beet salad that is remarkably good for you, gorgeous, and incredibly delicious.

Ingredients:

• 1 roasted beet, cooled, skinned and cut into wedges
• a small (1-in. x 1 in.-ish) hunk of ricotta salata, a firm ricotta cheese, sold in wedges in the "nice cheese" section
• a small pinch of the tops of some fresh Italian, flat-leaf parsley sprigs, roughly chopped 
• chopped pecans, toasted (toss in a small skillet over medium heat until they smell nutty)
• kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
• olive oil
• red wine vinegar

Directions:

1. Place beet wedges on a plate or in a bowl.
2. Crumble ricotta salata over the beet wedges.
3. Sprinkle with chopped parsley.
4. Sprinkle with chopped, toasted pecans.
5. Drizzle with olive oil and red wine vinegar.
6. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.
7. EAT!

If you want to print the recipe, click "Print this recipe" below for a download and/or a print option.

Come back tomorrow for a quick how-to video on roasting and peeling beets–something I used to hate doing because the damn peel never came off easily. No more! I'll show you how.

Until then, here's to those of us who may be knob-kneed with lots of bad hair-days but strive to be beautiful on the inside! Yeah, beets!

Figs with Bleu Cheese and Pecans: A Fancy Schmancy but Easy Peasy Appetizer Recipe

It's fig season, people!!! Woohoooo!

Regardless of this article my brother sent me recently from Knowledge Nuts, I love fresh figs.  Second only to a warm, heavy peach dripping with juice, figs are probably my favorite fruit.  They are exquisite, if you've never had one.  Exotic.  Sensual. Bite into one and you will understand why the Renaissance painters used them in their paintings to allude to sex.

And they were $3.99 at the grocery store the other day! Imagine! $3.99 for nine plump little parcels of heaven.

I snatched up a package and a wedge of good bleu cheese, then came home and created a little appetizer to nibble in front of the fire with Chef Reiton while our chicken finished its roasting:

They're pretty, aren't they? If you want an appetizer to impress that takes a whole 10 minutes to prepare from start to finish, try these out.  Here's what you've got to do (adjust quantities to suit your party size.  I used 4 whole figs for the 2 of us):

Ingredients:

• fresh figs, halved through the stem so you've got a little "handle" to pick them up with
• good bleu cheese
• pecan halves

To prepare:

Heat your oven to 400° OR you can toast these if you have a toaster oven.

Lay the figs on a foil or parchment-lined cookie sheet.  I used the little pan that fits in our toaster oven.

With a butter knife and your finger, place a tiny plop of bleu cheese on top of each fig half.  You don't need much; bleu cheese is very pungent.  The size of two really big peas is a good amount.

Gently press a pecan half on top of the bleu cheese on each fig.

Roast or toast your figs for about 4 minutes.  The nuts will be toasty and the cheese bubbly.

Let them cool a minute, then plate and serve warm.

Give them a try and let me know what you think! I think you might be surprised by the wonderful mix of flavors and textures.  Soft figs with crunchy pecans.  Sweet and toasty and salty and earthy.  Delightful!

Brandied Peaches and Cream at Midnight: Learning the Magic of Maceration (with Liquor)

I have a new Italian grandma.

Her name is Paula, and she lives next door.  I had the absolute pleasure of hanging out with her and her daughter, Annette, and their family this past weekend.  Derrick and I were taking out the trash (with wine glasses in hand—I know...), when they called over the fence and said to bring our wine glasses and come on over to sit by the fire!

Am I ever glad we said 'yes.'  First off, I could have only dreamed that we would have next door neighbors as nice as they.  I mean, they are the kind of people that are just genuine, you know? Nobody will ever be able to replace our Trevinos, but Paula and Annette and Justin and James look like they are certainly going to give them a run for their money.

Secondly,—well, let's just get back to Paula.  She absolutely warmed my heart.  I think I could sit and talk to her for hours.  In the 15 minutes that we were alone together conversing, I felt like I got a glimpse into an extraordinary life lived by a woman with a strength that most of us could only hope to have.  I can't wait to get to know her better.  And to cook with her...  I hear her arancini are to die for.

There are many more reasons I'm glad we said 'yes' to the fire invitation, but the one that relates the most to why I'm writing you all is because that night Paula handed me a bag of peaches picked from a very special tree in their backyard.  Yes, HOMEGROWN peaches.  Holy tamole! She told me that they were a little hard, yet, and to give them a few days...

Well, I did, and yesterday I decided that they were ready to be eaten.  TODAY.  Chef Reiton had a Chicago trip that would have him leaving just before dinner and not coming home until close to midnight, so we decided to do like we did when were dating and have a midnight dinner.  We made a big batch of chili to simmer for hours on the stove while he would be working, and while he was gone, I hatched a secret peachy dessert plan and took Paula's peaches and made this:



There they are, waiting in the fridge.  I'm calling my little dessert creation brandied peaches and cream, but there's not a drop of cream in there.  The "cream" is really whole milk ricotta cheese and Greek yogurt whisked together until the mixture is silky smooth (no sugar added).  The peaches I cut up really small then macerated them for a couple hours with a drizzle of organic honey, a sprinkle of nutmeg, a teensy pinch of salt, and a splash of brandy.  Then I just layered everything in little juice glasses and topped each of them with a sprig o' mint.

Chef Reiton and I really liked the results.  The "cream" mixture was nice and smooth and creamy.  The peaches were just peachy! But there are a few things we decided would make it even better:

1. Use a little more Greek yogurt and a little less ricotta to get a bit more tang.  So maybe instead of doing equal parts of 1:1, maybe do 2:1.  And I could have added a couple drops of vanilla for some flavor.
2. I plated these after only a couple hours of maceration.  Allowing the fruit to macerate for a much longer time and plating them closer to serving time would make the fruit taste that much better and keep the yummy brandied juices more evenly distributed throughout the dish as you are eating it, instead of having them settle to the bottom and only getting the best at the last...
3. This dessert would work with lots of fruits.  I've got some raspberries in the fridge right now.  Those would be awesome.  Strawberries? Heck, yeah.  Blueberries.  Blackberries.  Plums.  Oh, man... Change the spice sprinkle to suit the fruit, and you are good to go!
4. Another cheese to try? Mascarpone.  That's got the silk and tang going for it already.  Blend the mascarpone and yogurt in equal parts? Hmm...

Give it a try! And if you don't have brandy or honey to macerate the fruit in, try using some brown sugar to get a bit of that caramel-y flavor involved.  Yummy!

And now I am off to continue getting this little house set-up.  I want Paula to come over...

Gluten-Free, Grain-Free Zucchini Lasagna Speaks: "Don't Judge Me. Just Eat Me."

No matter how hard I try, when it comes to capturing the deliciousness of lasagna on film...it's nearly impossible.  Some of it may be my photography skills, but I think the true reason it can't be done is this: photographed melted cheese is just GROSS.  Your lasagna can be straight-out-of-the-oven, lava-hot—and it looks God awful:

Let it rest for just a few minutes to set, and it looks like the rubber from an old pair of tennis shoes:

There just seems to be no way to visually appreciate the culinary wonder that is lasagna.  

You just have to eat it.

I did some experimenting the other night with making a pasta-free lasagna.  I think it was one of the best lasagnas I have ever made.  Instead of using lasagna noodles, Chef Reiton sliced zucchinis lengthwise on the mandoline, the blade set at the thinnest setting.  Out came "noodles" that we layered raw in the pan.  (He only sliced about halfway through each zucchini to avoid any accidents with the mandoline blade.  We saved the leftover halves to use for another "pasta" meal a few days later).

I made the mistake of forgetting to salt the zucchini noodles before using them, so the lasagna came out a bit wet.  Salting zucchini after you cut or slice it helps to draw out their water (sprinkle zucchini with some kosher salt and let them sit for a good 20 minutes, then rinse and pat dry).  Other than that goof, we were very happy with the flavors.  Robust, cheesy, and a bit spicy.

Here are the items that I layered into our small lasagna pan for 2-4 people:

• 3 small-to-medium sized zucchinis, about 1 1/2 to 2-in. in diameter, ends trimmed, then sliced LENGTHWISE on a mandoline set at the thinnest setting (salt the slices while you are sautéing up your 'shrooms and onions, then rinse and pat them dry)
• 1/2 lb. chopped and sauteed baby bella mushrooms
• 1 small onion, very thinly sliced on the mandoline into rings, then lightly caramelized on medium-low heat
• 2 links of hot Italian sausage, crumbled and browned
• whole milk ricotta cheese (forget lowfat, people! Full fat is better for you and tastes 100% better!)
• provolone slices (not smoked)
• mozzarella slices (not fresh)
• homemade tomato sauce (recipe below)
• Parmesan to grate on top

Lasagna is an as-you-like-it meal, so change the ingredients, layering tactics, and quantities to suit your own tastes.  

As for the sauce, it is quick and easy.  I figured the Italians keep things simple, so I did, too.  You ready?

Dump in the bowl of a food processor:

• a 28-oz. can of peeled whole tomatoes (yes, Marzanos if you can do them), juice included
• 2 peeled garlic cloves, cut into quarters
• 1 tsp. fennel seeds
• 1 tsp. oregano
• 1 tsp. kosher salt
• 1 heavy drizzle extra virgin olive oil
• 1 heavy drizzle balsamic vinegar
• the leaves of one large sprig of basil

Puree until everything looks smooth.  You can use the sauce straight from the bowl or simmer it to allow it to thicken and the flavors marry, if you have the time.

That's it.  Our lasagna got baked at 350° for a good half hour.  Just make sure the whole thing is bubbly, not just the edges.  

And if it looks U.G.L.Y. when you plate it? Don't judge.  Just eat.

A Lazy Creation: Messy Caprese Salad Recipe

To accompany our Italian-themed dinner the other evening (I totally cheated--it was a pre-seasoned Italian pork loin.  Sorry.), I decided to make a Caprese salad to use some of our beautiful Roma tomatoes and sweet basil from the garden.  But--due to my laziness--I just wanted to throw it all together and not take the time to get all pretty with the typical layering.  So that's what I did, darn it! And what resulted tasted better than almost any Caprese salad I have ever tasted! It doesn't look as pretty (especially with a kind-of crappy photo), but you can count on those flavors melding together for a true Italian eating experience!

I'm going to pull a David Rocco on you and tell you to quanto basta everything: use how much you want to—no exact measurements needed! I'll tell you below what I did, but definitely feel free to use more or less of an ingredient to suit your own tastes.

The amounts below fed just two of us, so gauge your quantities from there, too.

What you'll need:

• good, ripe Roma tomatoes, halved lengthwise and then sliced into chunks: I used 3
• fresh mozzarella cheese, torn into bite-sized pieces: I used 3 balls, still dripping brine, from BelGioioso's Bocconcini tub, usually found in the "nice cheese" section near the deli
• fresh basil leaves, slivered or torn
• fresh lemon, juiced: I used half a lemon
• extra virgin olive oil: I used about 3 Tblsp.
• kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

In a medium bowl, whisk together the lemon juice, olive oil, salt, and pepper until it looks like everything has completely incorporated.  Add the rest of the ingredients to the bowl and toss gently but well, making sure everything is coated.  Let the salad rest in the fridge while you finish dinner.  Toss once more before serving.

Delizioso!

The Norwegian Codfather—Chambersburg, PA

Okay, I feel like a jerk as I write this post...

You see, I thought I had written this post over a year ago because I'd been dreaming about this little shop for a year.  AND I told some very important people that I'd written it!  They probably think I am a total liar... Oh, geez.

So, my aim is to make it up to them.  (Tom and Pauline, this one's for you.)

Tom and Pauline, for those of you who have not had the delight of meeting them, own a small European grocery in my old hometown of Chambersburg, PA.  No offense meant to my heritage, but when I heard that they existed, I really did not know what to expect.  A European grocery? In Chambersburg?

But Luke, the fabulous chef from Cafe d'Italia just around the corner from them, recommended them to me for some fantastic prosciutto he had used on a white pizza.  The name of their establishment? The Norwegian Codfather.  I had to check them out...

OH, dear Lord, was I glad I did! The treatment! The finds! A deli case stocked with sausages, meats, and cheeses you can't find anywhere else: a sharp provolone that will take your lasagna from good to glorious.  Smoked bacon that I put on ice and drove for 13 hours so I could have some at home for breakfast. Caramelized goat cheese that you can shave into divine little curls and serve for dessert with fruit.  And then there's the licorice.  Licorice like you've never had before.  REAL licorice.  There's even one that is salted.  (My dad finds excuses to go into town just for that!)  And all of this Tom and Pauline offer you to try before you buy. You will even find yourself tasting items that you would never have asked (or thought you wanted) to try--because Tom and Pauline know: the foods they sell are superb, and all it takes is one taste...

On top of all this foodie wonder, The Norwegian Codfather sells random European baking and cooking ingredients that I've read about and wanted to try but have never been able to find without ordering it online.  Like pearled sugar for sprinkling on a braided lemon bread.  And rosewater for cocktails.  Juniper berries for a braised meat dish.

It really, truly is a shop you must explore, at least once.  And here's the ultimate reason why: after last year's visit, I absolutely HAD to go back this past Christmas break, and--can you believe it? They remembered me.

THAT, my dear foodie friend, is what Life is about.  Amazing food made even more amazing by the relationships we build with the people we share it with.  Even if it's just for an hour once a year.

**UPDATE as of Jan. 2016**

I am so sorry to see that the Norwegian Codfather has closed.  I made the discovery a little over a week ago when I tried to visit while back in PA.  Tom and Pauline, you will be greatly missed.  I hope that your closed doors have opened up a new adventure for you elsewhere! Best wishes to you both!

The Primal Eggplant: Tweaking Eggplant Rollatini

If you are a vegetable lover like me, you probably are pretty open to trying mostly any vegetable out there.

If you continue to be like me in such matters, you are still--no matter your openness--wary of the eggplant.

In defense of myself, I am (mostly) a believer in the food adage: "In-order-to-know-if-you-really-like-something-you-have-to-try-it-10-times." So, eggplant and I keep trying.  Yes, I discovered the amazing coal-roasted eggplant this summer, which I truly did love.  But, if you've been watching the news as of late, it's not necessarily grilling season up here in Wisconsin.

In perusing my David Rocco cookbook, Made in Italy, the other day, I came across this winner of a recipe (approved by two teenage boys--and I didn't even lie about what it was!): Involtini di Melanzane e Provola.  I adapted it for my primal husband, which is the version I've posted below, but you can use flour instead of the almond meal if you wish.  I do encourage you to give it a try the primal way, though.  I think you'll be happy you did.  The slightly nutty flavor was one of the things the boys liked about it.

Ingredients:
1 medium eggplant
Kosher salt and fresh cracked pepper
1 cup almond meal (I used Trader Joe's) in a pie plate
1 egg, beaten in a pie plate
Extra virgin olive oil for frying (amount will depend on the size of your skillet; you want it a good 1/4 inch deep)
12 slices of smoked provolone

As thinly as you can, slice the eggplant lengthwise.  I got about 12 slices, and that includes discarding some that were just wonky (I'm not very good at slicing thinly and evenly).  Salt the slices heavily and let rest for half an hour to draw out the water.  Pat dry.

Get a plate and a pile of paper towels ready.  Heat the oil in a skillet until it is almost smoking.

Dip a slice of eggplant in the almond meal, coating both sides, then dip it in the egg, coating both sides.  Let the excess egg drip off, then lay the eggplant in the hot oil and fry for about a minute until golden brown.  Flip and get the other side golden.  Remove to a paper towel to absorb excess oil.  Repeat for the rest of the eggplant slices.

When you are done frying, lay a slice of smoked provolone on each slice of eggplant and roll up, lining the rolls up on a warm platter.  Season with fresh cracked pepper.  If you wish, spoon some of Beppe's tomato sauce over the top.

Delizioso! I promise!

Random Food and Cocktail Photos

My darling husband is sitting here, being a saint and doing bills and reconciling, and I'm sitting here, drinking a French red and feeling unproductive.  My remedy? Writing you all.  It's been awhile, regrettably, thanks to my job.  Maybe one day this will be my full time job...

Anyway, due to my absence and my nuts-o schedule, I've decided to just post pics of random food/meals we've had of late, and then maybe in a few days I'll be able to get on again and bang out a recipe.  So, for now, for your enjoyment:

my first Hendricks martini:

ribs, green beans, and sweet potato fries for Michael:

gluten-free chicken tenders with buffalo sauce:

homemade "Brickhouse Cheesy Sticks" (This one's for you, Valbon.)   To get the real deal, check out Brickhouse Pizza Pub in Fort Atkinson, WI.  YUM.

a gorgeous beet I roasted for dinner one night.  Look at that color!

and, lastly—THE HOPS ARE GROWING!!! (Ignore the fact that I have not weeded.)

I'll catch up more later.  PROMISE.

The Marriage of Foodies

I promised last post that I would write about Chef Reiton's and my wedding, so here it is for your amusement: a post about love and food.

Chef Reiton and I met at an interesting point in both of our lives: both of us had been separated for about 6 months and were in the midst of divorces.  Both of us were rediscovering ourselves (as all of you out there who have been divorced well know)—and one of the ways we both were finding freedom and consolation was through the education about and creation of food.  In fact, the first post I wrote for this blog was written the night after the third time we met—the first time where our meeting was actually planned.

Anyway, we obviously fell fantastically in love with each other—and each other's food—and this past winter we decided that we wanted to get married.  It being the second wedding for both of us, however, our priorities on what the wedding should be like were a far cry from the first time.  We agreed from the start that it would be 1) small, 2) DIY, 3) reminiscent of us and 4) home-cooked.

Now, Chef Reiton and I met on a plane—twice.  Due to the bizarre nature of meeting and then re-meeting each other in such a manner, we decided to embrace our serendipitous history and apply it to our wedding.  We made the invitations ourselves, designing them to be boarding passes, complete with a ticket folder from "Serendipity Airlines."

The setting for our day was to be the beginning of summer.  The ceremony would be held on a deck overlooking a large wetland lake at a local county park where we love to walk the dog, and the reception, both pre- and post-ceremony portions, was to be held in our backyard.  No renting of any buildings was required. The guests we limited to immediate family, as well as local family members and friends who are like immediate family.

The planning and preparations continued.  Chef Reiton ordered his clothes from L.L. Bean and looked dashing when he tried them on.  I bought a dress on a rush, hated it on me when it came in, so made myself a new one with the guiding hands and advice of my awesome neighbor, Heather, and the dear Mare at Nimble Thimble in Cambridge, WI.  It didn't look so bad, either! Definitely homemade, but the girls in the factory in China didn't do so great on the $100 dress I bought, so I didn't feel so bad about it.  And I LOVED my dress.  I should have followed my DIY gut in the first place.  It would have saved me sewing two weeks before the wedding.

Because our numbers were small, we were able to stick with renting just six round tables for the adult guests and two rectangular tables for the food.  We rented old wooden ballroom chairs from a church for $1 apiece.  For kids' seating, we set up the massive picnic table Chef Reiton built with brightly colored treat bags stuffed with candy, glow bracelets, bubbles, and water guns; the teenagers sat at a high top on the patio.  The adults were arranged on the driveway under a 30'x30' white tarp stretched tent-like between the garage and the house (an engineering feat by Chef Reiton).

For decorations, we kept it simple and classy but held to the theme (and all the dishes, linens, votives, and favors were bought online after scouting for hours and hours for the most inexpensive but quality supplies; I may be cheap, but I am anal).  The tables were covered in white linen tablecloths and set with square placemats (my eldest sister created them out of Chef Reiton's old runway maps and a variety of blue papers), white china plates, navy blue linen napkins, silverware from our own drawer and borrowed from family members, and glass "polka dot" tumblers.  The seating cards, also made by my eldest sister, were die-cut paper airplanes printed with guest names and their table number, strung on fishing line. Table numbers were "seat numbers," made from 8-inch kraft numbers and letters from Hobby Lobby, painted silver and hot-glued to a white-painted base.  A random mix of orange and white flowers (bought at Walmart) in small bud vases (bought at Goodwill) and blue votive candleholders were scattered across the tables.  Laying on each plate were the wedding favors: an individual bag of Terra Blue chips. Draped overhead were strings of white bistro lights, and hanging at the peak of the garage was a large 3'x4' navy blue sign with white letters that read "GATE C28"—the gate where we met the second time and knew it was Destiny.

My middle sister made my beautiful bouquet, which I allowed her complete artistic freedom.  I simply bought a bunch of flowers at the grocery store that I loved, handed them to her, and said, "Do whatever! Just keep it small."  She designed a small nosegay out of baby white carnations, orange tea roses, and tiny chartreuse pin cushion mums—a simple, modern and perfect bouquet for me.

And now for the food.  The kegerator was brought outside to the garage and the top set with a fun runner, a "borrowed" orange tray from the N.A., and an assortment of beer mugs and pint glasses. Nestled inside were a variety of home-brewed beers (several brewed just for the wedding, including my Old Fort IPA and Chef Reiton's Belgian wit).  The wine was set out on a navy blue spray-painted wood changing table that I found a few weeks before the wedding; it made a lovely wine bar.  Wine glasses from IKEA were stacked on the top shelf, each stem wrapped with a circular paper-and-metal hangtag on which guests wrote their name; a sign stood next to a cup of pens that read: "Label your glass! It's the only one you are getting!"  The bottom two shelves of the "bar" were loaded with red wines, and a round tub filled with ice water and white wines sat to the side.

Appetizers during the pre-ceremony reception were kept simple: I wanted yummy finger foods but with minimal prep work or time.  A variety of good cheeses from Sam's Club, as well as an assortment of nice crackers, were laid out on cheese slates and vintage pressed tin trays.  Snipped clusters of green and red grapes, strawberries, and blackberries were mounded on a platter.  Bacon-wrapped dates were piled onto a tiered plate stand.  Small clear plastic plates and fun cocktail napkins were provided for mingling purposes.

Dinner foods were prepared largely the days beforehand.  Pork shoulder and brisket were smoked by Chef Reiton and his brother, then shredded and sliced after they were rewarmed a few hours before the wedding.  Spicy barbecue sauce, baked beans, and cornbread muffins were all made ahead and either refrigerated or frozen.  Hebrew National hot dogs, our homemade kobas, and fresh zucchini, portobello caps, whole sweet peppers, and asparagus were all grilled during the ceremony (a friend of mine came and helped with the putting out of food and manning the last minute details while we got ready, mingled, and got married!).  Chef Reiton's youngest sister brought a huge green salad (she makes the best) to help pitch in, and purchased rolls were placed in a basket.  All the food was set out to form a buffet.

Then, there was dessert.  What an assortment we had! To keep with tradition and to give our reception at least one ceremonious act, my eldest sister made our wedding cake: a beautiful two-tiered creation with cloud-like buttercream swirls, topped with a JetBlue jet plane.  To commemorate Chef Reiton's and my first cooking experience together, the day before the wedding my two best friends and I made four tiramisus. To honor Chef Reiton's father who had passed, my new mother-in-law made a blueberry pie, as well as loads of yummy Mexican wedding cookies and pecan dainties. For the kids (and the rest of us!), two of my girlfriends made mass quantities of two amazing flavors of cupcakes: lemon-berry with pureed berry in the frosting and sunken brownie with bright blue and orange frostings (JetBlue's colors).

The night went on with a bonfire, giant sparklers, music, and lots and lots of laughter and fun.  We intentionally steered clear of all the wedding "traditions" (i.e. toasting, tossing, dancing, etc.).  We simply wanted everyone to be relaxed and just hang.

And eat.

And drink.

And that we did.

A Dinner Lesson from Albania

Tonight I saw one of my bosses, who was born and raised in what is now Albania, eat a dinner that made my mouth water for its absolute simplicity: a platter of quartered tomatoes, sliced cucumbers, whole pepperoncinis, and chunks of feta cheese—all served with homemade bread.

What a meal! One of the other waitressess was amazed that he ate the tomatoes that way: "like an apple!" (I don't think she grew up eating many fresh vegetables...) But I craved his dinner.

"Save me some cheese!" I asked him. And instead of giving me a piece off his plate, he went into the kitchen and scooped out a slab of feta for me to take home.

Oh, glorious night! I came home, poured a huge glass of cabernet-shiraz blend, sliced up one of my last yellow beefsteak tomatoes and a cucumber, chunked up the feta cheese, and devoured my divinely simple dinner leisurely as I threw my cat—my "little old man," I call him—bits of cheese.

My lesson in food tonight? Here it is: I don't need to cook all the time.  I can live from the bounty of the earth very, very happily and very, very cheaply. A bit of cucumber, a tomato, a small slab of fresh cheese, a glass of wine...

Living simply makes me simply very happy.

Teaching Teenagers to Cook: Michael's First Pizza

The other night Michael requested pizza for dinner.  I made the dough, put it out in the sun to rise for a few hours, and soon it was time to make the pizzas.

We usually make a pepperoni pizza for Michael, and then some kind of supreme or margherita pizza for Chef Reiton and I.  I started working the pepperoni pizza dough first when I looked at the time.  It was getting late, and I needed help.  I called for Michael.

"Would you please make the other pizza for me while I do this one?" I asked.

He shook his head.  "But I don't know how to do it.  I can't make a round circle!"

I laughed.  "You should have seen my first pizzas.  They looked like Wisconsin." (Remember those, dear reader?) "Don't worry, I'll show you how."

I picked up the lump of dough in front of him and showed him how to work it into a ball first, and then how to gently push it into a wider and wider circle.  I told him how to let it rest a few minutes when it didn't seem that it would stretch anymore, and then come back to it and watch it grow even more.

He watched me as I did mine, and then picked up the lump and started working.  In the middle of his dough work he said, "I think we should make each other's pizzas.  You make mine, and I'll make yours."  It was a deal.  As I made his pepperoni pizza with sauce and shredded mozzarella cheese, I told him how to make my margherita pizza: how to dice and salt the tomatoes; how to oil and gently salt the crust; how to layer on the tomatoes, the fresh mozzarella, and the fresh basil.

I wish I would have taken a before and after shot of the pizza he made, but I only took the after.  Look at this first attempt at making a pizza.  I didn't touch it once.

Not only was it beautiful, but it tasted awesome.  Perfectly salted (whereas mine I can sometimes overdo).  And it is ROUND.

Confessions of a New Foodie

My dinner tonight:

 

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