Monday, March 7, 2011

Goodbye New York, Hello Again Chapel Hill

New York, it turned out, was not for me.  The everlasting winter, the crowded subways, the shock that registered on peoples' faces when I was polite: None of these things really agreed with my system.  As much as I enjoyed the people that I worked with and the overwhelming access to culture, the past nine months have taught me that I'm cut out for a somewhat slower pace of life.

So on Saturday, I drove back with my dad to Chapel Hill.  I'm hoping that I'll be starting a master's program in library science in the fall, but if I don't get in this year, there's always the next.  New York lent me some perspective on what I want to get out of life and I made some fantastic friends, so I will always be grateful for this past year.

One thing that was rough about New York was that I rarely had anyone to cook for (I don't blame anyone for not wanting to make the trek out to Flatbush) and, when I did, I was too exhausted to do so.  Returning home will hopefully also mean a return to cooking, with my family as my culinary guinea pigs and a more relaxed schedule.  So look for more blog posts in the near future.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Spinach-and-Mushroom Baked Penne

Nothing says comfort food to me like a big bowl of pasta, red sauce, and lots and lots of cheese.  At the end of a long day at work, that's what I want to come home to (or find in my Tupperware at lunch, or graze on in the middle of the night, as the case may be).  Can you keep your Sophia Loren figure while indulging in an old-country carbohydrate feast?  I'd say yes.


Please, tell me more.

The key here is whole wheat pasta, a moderate amount of various cheeses, and a heavy load of delicious vegetables—spinach, mushrooms, onions.  Because of all the other flavors and the moistness of the sauce, the whole wheat pasta doesn't overwhelm the dish or make it overly dry.  So make sure not to skimp on the greenery!  As my grandmother would say, "A little bit of veg never hurt anybody."

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Linzer Bars

The clocks are set back, the leaves are finally changing color, and it's getting dark far too early: These are all indisputable signs of cookie season's arrival.  That little bite in the air tells baking fiends across the country, me included, that it's time to get down to the serious business of making (and sharing) sweets.

Back in July, I attended my very first canning party, from which I brought home a jar of homemade strawberry jam.  Since I'm not much for toast-and-jam (butter is my topping of choice), the jam has been guiltily staring at me for the past three months.  Solution: Make it the basis for a cookie.

This recipe comes from The Gourmet Cookie Book: The Single Best Recipe from Each Year 1941-2009, which is coming out this month.  It's a really terrific book with lots of beautiful illustrations, plus it's interesting to see the evolution of what American readers of Gourmet expected from their cookies over the past 60+ years.  I adapted this recipe from their 1979 selection, leaving out ground almonds and other ingredients not readily at hand.

Special thanks for this recipe goes to Kirsten, without whom there would have been no jam, no cookbook, and no cookies.

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Roasted Acorn Squash: An Illustrated Guide

Tonight is Halloween, meaning that I've gone the whole of the month without posting a new recipe.  Bad, bad Dani.  But I happy to be able to now share with you one of my all-time favorite foods, the acorn squash!  Catch me on a Monday, Wednesday, or Friday in autumn (Union Square Green Market days) and, likely as not, I'm probably packing several pounds of acorn squash in my bag.  What to do with them?  I'm glad you asked!

Step one: Admire the perfection of the squash form.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Autumn Vegetable Kugel

First of all, I'd like to thank the extremely talented Tom Tian for the beautiful new banner.  Everyone should check out his blog for more of his great designs.

It's finally starting to feel like fall, which means that I want to eat only root vegetables (more or less).  I adapted this recipe for carrot, leek, and zucchini kugel from a few different recipes in Marlena Spieler's Jewish Cooking, which is beautifully illustrated and one of my all-time favorite cookbooks.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Apple-Cranberry Chicken Salad

On Fridays, if I've been a fiscally-responsible young professional the rest of the week, I'll bop out to one of the many Union Square eateries and buy my lunch.  Two weeks ago, I went to Pret, a sandwich shop chain imported from the U.K. They have an amazing chicken salad sandwich (see my last post on chicken salad for more on my life-changing conversion to the cold-meat-salad camp), but it's over $3 for half a sandwich.  And since I really wanted to eat several, the only solution was to make it myself at home.

After a pilgrimage to Ditmas Park to secure a roast chicken last Sunday, I wound up with more chicken salad then I could ever possibly consume.  Word to the wise: Using an entire chicken for chicken salad will result in something like a dozen servings.  Suffice it to say that I ate chicken salad for almost every meal last week. It was delicious, but I'd definitely recommend inviting some friends for a picnic or something with this giant recipe.

You'll need:

1 roasted chicken
1 tart apple, like Granny Smith, peeled and sliced thinly
Juice of one-half lemon
3 ribs celery, chopped
1 bag Craisins or other dried cranberries
3 tbsp. mayonnaise

Dissect your chicken and chop roughly.  The yield will look something like this:


Slice the apple very thinly, squeezing the lemon juice over the sliced pieces (this will keep them from turning brown and mushy).  Mix together the chicken, celery, apples, and cranberries in a large bowl.  Then mix in the mayo (just enough to make it all stick together).

Your final product:




You have many options for what to do with this: Eat it plain, eat it with crackers (my preferred lunch mode), make a sandwich:


Go crazy.  And share with friends—I'm not kidding.  So much chicken salad.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Vegetarian Fried Rice

One of the best things about living in Brooklyn is the constant availability of cheap, greasy, and delicious Chinese food.  Since I have very little self-control in this area, I've been eating more than my fair share of egg rolls, sesame chicken, and the like.  For better or worse, this leaves me with plenty of leftover rice, which just isn't that good when reheated.  As a semi-broke denizen of the publishing world, the thought of wasting all that (already paid for) food is alarming, so repurposing the rice is crucial.  Here's my answer to that problem, which also stretches one leftover carton of white rice into three or four meals.

You'll need:

1 carton leftover steamed rice (cold)
2 tbsp. vegetable oil
1 bag frozen vegetables (I used peas and carrots)
1 can water chestnuts, sliced
3 eggs
1/2 cup soy sauce
Black pepper, to taste
Salt, to taste

Heat vegetable oil in a large pan.  Once the oil is warm, add the frozen vegetables, stirring until thawed.  Add water chestnuts and stir-fry for 1–2 minutes.

Meanwhile, crack your eggs into a small bowl and whisk them with a fork, folding in air.  This makes for nice and fluffy scrambled eggs.  Add salt and pepper to the raw eggs.

Scoot your veggies over to one half of the pan, making sure the other, empty half is still well-oiled.  Pour eggs into the empty half and proceed to scramble.  After the eggs are cooked, the veggies and eggs can be mixed, but keep them separated until the risk of salmonella has passed.

Add rice and soy sauce to the mixture, stirring well.  Cook for two to three more minutes, stirring constantly.


Delicious!  It looks even nicer when you put it in a bowl:



Protein, vegetables, and carbs: This is a pretty good all-in-one meal, which is not typically something I'm talented at making.  Plus, Rizi Bizi loves her some scrambled eggs (I put some aside before I added the soy sauce, don't worry), so everyone's happy.


The epitome of a happy, spoiled, well-fed feline sous chef.