Macerated Oranges

All credit due to Chicago (and possibly global warming?), we barely had anything that qualifies as winter this year. A few days below freezing, a couple inches of snow–I only had to chip ice off my car once! I’m certainly not complaining (though watch us get a freak snowstorm next week).

Even so, by this time of year I am desperate for any fruit that 1) is not an apple and 2) actually tastes like something. Convenient then that just about every conceivable type of citrus is at its peak just in time to get me through to spring.

This recipe for oranges sweetened with sugar and soaked in their own juice, which I discovered flipping through Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking last month, is not only my ideal (and necessary) dose of vitamin C come mid-winter, it’s my new go-to dessert for a dinner party.

I’ll be honest, most of the time when I have people over, dessert is at the bottom of my priority list. I can bake when I get a craving, but if I’m making dinner for friends, I’m focused on the main course. Finding a recipe that complements the rest of the menu, dealing with the intricacies of baking, and trying not to induce a food coma by the end of the meal? No thank you.

These oranges, on the other hand, are dead simple and the most refreshing end to an indulgent meal. While it looks particularly pretty when you can mix up different colors and flavors of citrus (I used blood oranges, Cara-Cara oranges, and honey tangerines), it’s just as delicious with good, juicy, standard Navel oranges. Serve it alone or alongside a few biscotti to soak up the juice (or over a thin slice of Marcella Hazan’s ciambella). Perfection.

Macerated Oranges

Cooking the Books – Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking

“If you really want to make a friend, go to someone’s house and eat with him…The people who give you their food give you their heart.”

I stumbled on that quote while I was trying to find a way to start this post, and I can’t think of a more perfect way to sum up everything about this cookbook club and basically my entire philosophy on sharing food. Need more really be said?

…Well, yes, because that’s what I do here. In three meetings, these dinners have become a highlight of my month, not just for the amazing food (though, obviously, yum), but for the people. February’s dinner included three new members, and all three were among the last of us left drinking, eating, and talking past midnight. You know you’ve found a special group when new people fit in so easily it feels like they’ve always been there.

It seems particularly fitting, then, that February’s cookbook was Italian, a culture that embodies “people who give you their food give you their heart,” and in which food and home and friends and family are deeply, inextricably intertwined.

I’m ashamed to admit that, while I read through Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking by Marcella Hazan like a novel at least twice when I got it a few years ago, I’d only made a recipe or two (and the minestrone I did make wasn’t the revelation I hoped it would be). But this dinner was a perfect excuse to really dig into it–not solely for the recipes, but for Marcella’s approach to food.

Many of us expected a Julia Child-like friendliness and enthusiastic encouragement from the book, but Marcella’s opinionated style led to some fantastic (and hilarious) discussions throughout the whole month before we met, and again at dinner. There was at least a little angst (and a few foul words) directed towards the impossible-to-find salt-cured anchovies that Marcella insisted were essential. (Jarred anchovies were acceptable if you had no other options. Can only find anchovy paste in a tube or “bargain-priced” anchovies? Make another dish.)

Personally I loved Marcella’s confidence that there is a “right” or “best” way to choose an ingredient or make a dish or organize a meal (salad course always to be served between the main and dessert, please and thank you). Granted, the best version may be the one her grandmother made (like the ciambella cake), but she also won’t deny you options to discover your own best version (for the ciambella, for instance, she says anise and wine are welcome additions).

Interestingly, this book had both the most ambitious recipes (mushrooms, ham, and handmade fettuccine bundled inside a handmade pasta package–yes, that’s pasta-filled pasta), and the simplest (a salad of raw fennel, salt, pepper, and olive oil) of any book we’ve picked so far. Most of the group went for the more project-y recipes (gelato, homemade tortellini), which were as good as you’d imagine, but the simple ones (the macerated oranges or fennel salad) were perfect compliments to the more complex dishes.

The unexpected discovery from this cookbook was finding that my Italian grandmother (who turned 102 last month, incidentally; yes she is amazing) regularly made one of my favorite dishes of the evening, pizza rustica (a.k.a. pork and cheese pie, Abruzzi style), a pastry dough stuffed with cured meats, cheeses, and eggs. As soon as I started describing the dish to my dad, he said “Oh, my mom and aunt always used to make that for Easter. It’s in the family cookbook.” And so it was, under “Italian Easter Pie.” I’m planning to attempt my grandma’s version in a few weeks. And maybe her German chocolate cake while I’m at it.

So, well-armed with Negronis and plenty of wine, these are the recipes we made from Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking:

Cooking the Books – The Smitten Kitchen Cookbook

The grande dame of home cooking Julia Child said, “People who love to eat are always the best people.” No surprise, they’re also the best people to start a cookbook club with.

I posted about the first cookbook club in November (Dorie Greenspan’s Around My French Table). After this month’s meeting–a 15-dish extravaganza from the pages of the Smitten Kitchen Cookbook–I think this is the best thing I’ve done in the nearly four years I’ve been writing this blog.

It’s all of what I love about dinner parties (great food, entertaining at home, not trying to split a check six ways or feeling rushed by a waiter trying to turn a table) and potlucks (trying lots of different dishes) without the not-so-great parts of each (paying for and cooking all the food yourself, that one person who always only brings a bag of Lay’s and a sleeve of Solo cups). Plus it’s a great reason to use the dozens of cookbooks I have overflowing my bookshelf.

The best part, though, is how quickly a group of strangers can become friends over a shared, homemade meal.

Here’s how it works so far:

• At each meeting, we pick a cookbook, date, and host for the next meeting. Many people in the group are willing to host to spread out the effort.
• Everyone who’s coming adds themselves to a Google doc along with:
  • the name of the recipe(s) they’re planning to make
  • if oven or stove space is needed for reheating/keeping a dish warm
  • food allergies or other restrictions
• We set a maximum of 15 for most meetings for the sake of space, conversation, and food (even with everyone only making a single recipe, we all go home with something for lunch the next day).
• As much as possible, we stick to the recipe as written.
• We meet, we eat, we drink (BYO, and the host usually has libations to share, too). We talk about the recipes we made, what worked and what didn’t, what other recipes we want to try (or have tried).

We picked the Smitten Kitchen Cookbook for January’s meeting. I’ve had this book since Deb did her booksigning in Chicago, but have only made a handful of recipes (though the red wine velvet cake and the carmelized onion and squash galette are two all-time favorites). To stay true to the spirit of the club, we decided recipes from her blog were off-limits; cookbook only!

February’s cookbook is the incomparable Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking by Marcella Hazan. Want to play along at home? Pick a recipe, make it on February 20, and share what you made on Facebook! In Chicago and interested in joining the club? Send me an email!

When January’s meeting came around, these were the recipes at the table:

So long, 2015!

It’s been quite a year. More travel than I ever imagined, growing and cooking delicious food, taking (and teaching!) my first paella class, starting a new group of like-minded foodies…As December 31 comes to an end, here are a few of my favorite moments from the past year.

First crawfish boil in New Orleans in January.

The only acceptable cold slushy white stuff I want to see on a beach in Aruba in March.

Garden chive flower vinegar.

My favorite meal this year–Sarma in Boston in April with some of my favorite people.

Barcelona paella class in May.

Slow-smoked ribs to kick off summer.

London calling.

London’s Tower Bridge in July.

Teaching a sold-out class in August.

Sharing what I learned about paella in Barcelona with my class in Chicago.

Glut of garden tomatoes.

Paris by night in August.

First meeting of Cooking the Books in November. Can’t wait for the next one in January!

And no reflection on the year would be complete without mentioning the passing of my grandpa. I think about him often and wonder who I’ll send my paczki to this year…

Cheers to an incredible year past and a promising new year to come!

Holiday Giving Guide

Happy belated Thanksgiving everyone! Hopefully your weekend was full of food and friends and family, lots of pie, and plenty of good leftovers.

After Thanksgiving, though, the holiday season seems to come down like an avalanche of Can’t! Miss! Deals! that I’m still trying to dig my inbox out from under. Black Friday keeps creeping closer and closer to Thanksgiving dinner and I was getting emails about Cyber Monday deals last Tuesday. It’s barely December 1 and I’m already tired of every retailer on Earth yelling at me for not spending money.

Don’t get me wrong, I love buying gifts for people and I’m certainly not so self-righteous as to say I don’t like getting them (or that I didn’t snag a deal or two online over the weekend). But I’ve never posted a holiday gift guide here mostly because the Internet doesn’t need another list of too-expensive candles that smell like campfire and gin or a $200 scale to measure coffee beans, and no one wants to hear what’s on my actual Christmas wishlist (seriously, why are the caps for the air valves on my tires so easy to lose?!).

So instead of a gift guide for the holiday, how about a giving guide in honor of Giving Tuesday? Here are a few non-profits that I’m especially fond of that would be happy recipients of some holiday giving.

Foodlink
An amazing anti-hunger organization based in my hometown, Rochester, NY. They’re primarily a food bank, but they also organize year-round free and reduced-price lunch (and other meals) for kids, urban gardens and farm stands, a mobile market to neighborhoods where fresh produce isn’t easily accessible, healthful food education, and more. (I’m also a fan as the organization is currently run by one of my high school classmates.)

Girls Who Code
Working in IT at a major university, I see the gender gap in technology on a pretty regular basis, both in my job and in higher education. Girls Who Code encourages and teaches young women to pursue technology interests (they get to build robots!) and helps them build networks in the field.

Green City Market/Evanston Farmer’s Market
My two favorite farmers markets in Chicago. In addition to fantastic local fruits and vegetables and support for local farmers and food producers, both offer community outreach and education programs. Plus, you know, all the tomatoes.

Off the Street Club
Chicago’s oldest boys and girls club, founded in 1900, gives kids a safe place–physically and mentally–to be kids. In a neighborhood that’s more often associated with crime and gangs, Off the Street runs afterschool programs in the arts and sports, organizes fun outings around the city, provides resources for homework help, and sets up mentorship opportunities. They even run a full-on summer camp.

Open Books
Just like everyone deserves a full belly and a place to feel safe, everyone deserves to have good books in their life. Open Books provides high-quality used books to kids and adults through grants to schools, educators, and other non-profits, in addition to mentoring and creative writing and publishing workshops. Even better? Indulge your own book habit online or in their stores and the funds go to support their literacy programs.

Peterson Garden Project
This one should be pretty obvious, coming from me. PGP teaches people to grow and cook their own food through their community gardens and cooking school, along with lots of other educational programs to support that mission. I loved teaching my first class there this summer and am looking forward to another year of gardening with them in spring (only five months to go!).

Planned Parenthood
They’ve been victim to a lot of attacks in both word and deed this year, but the health services (yes, all of them) and education they provide to women (and men) are so important. They’ve been a life-saver for me and more than a few people I know.

Slow Food
I knew about slow food as a movement, but Slow Food as an international organization was new to me this year. In Chicago, they offer amazing food events, classes, and an urban garden all to support better access to food that is good, clean, and fair for everyone.

Station North Tool Library
One of my sisters just moved to Baltimore to build her jewelry business and she told me about this community organization in her neighborhood. They have a lending library for all kinds of tools, a woodshop, metalshop, and classes on how to build all kinds of things. I wish there was something like this in Chicago! I mean, come on, they have a class where I could make my own chef’s knife.

Co-Op Sauce
Technically this isn’t a non-profit, but Co-Op Sauce started off as one, and half of their profits still go to youth arts education in Chicago. Needless to say, their hot sauce (and everything else they sell) is really, really good and I will be sad if their cafe ever moves out of my neighborhood.

There are so many more I could list, but do you have a favorite organization I missed? Share it in the comments!

Damson Plum Gin

It’s easy to like ripe, red strawberries, peaches that leave your hands and face sticky with juice, watermelon that tastes like a bite of pure summer. They don’t need anything but a sunny day for perfection. The fun ones for me, though, are the fruits that are unassuming, that don’t look or taste like much at first; the ones that need a little coaxing, maybe a bit of fuss, to really shine. But, oh, when they do, their flavor is enough to rival the most perfect of strawberries. And, in this case, they have the added bonus of a cocktail at the end.

Damson plums, like my other favorite stonefruit, sour cherries, fall into the “unassuming” category. Barely bigger than a large cherry with dusty deep blueish-purple skin, Damsons have hardly any flavor when eaten raw. Pop one in your mouth and all you’ll taste is sour, but give them some time and attention and you’ll be rewarded with the most plum-y tasting plum you’ve ever had, rich with flavor and deliciously, mouth-wateringly tart. It doesn’t hurt that their skins impart the most gorgeous color to anything you make with them.

I mentioned this recipe off-hand last fall, but it was so good it really deserved its own post. It was a happy discovery to learn that Damson plums are related to sloes (as in sloe gin), which is as simple as combining gin, sugar, and fruit and waiting a few months. For the longest time, gin was not something I was a fan of. Someone once described it to me as “like drinking a pine tree;” considering one of the essential elements in gin is juniper berries, that’s not too far off. Happily, this woodsy flavor is actually a perfect complement to the plums.

What I’ve discovered about gin, too, is how widely the flavors can vary beyond the juniper base. Hendricks is known for flavors of rose and cucumber; Few, a local Chicago brand, has vanilla and citrus; I’m intrigued by the mix of herbs and spices in St. George’s “botanivore” gin. And honestly, this is good even if you only shell out for the low-shelf stuff.

Since the flavors of gin vary so widely, this is a fun recipe to make a few small batches and compare them come winter. Last year I particularly liked the rose flavor of Hendricks with the plum, and I have another two gins I’m giving a try this year. When it’s ready right around holiday time, this makes a gorgeous and delicious cocktail when you mix a bit of the gin with sparkling wine. Make more than you think you’ll need now, it’ll disappear faster than you realize.

Now if anyone has some ideas for what to do with a whole bunch of gin-soaked plums, I’m all ears!

Damson Plum Gin

Cassoulet

First, a note–before I made this, Chicago was well on its way to spring. It was 70 degrees, my winter coats and gloves and scarves were all put away. The day this went in the oven? Four inches of snow. I don’t know if that’s an endorsement or indictment. You’ve been warned.

There’s a particular kind of meal best served out of the dish it was made in, at a table crowded with full wine glasses, ready plates, and even more ready appetites. The kind of meal that lends itself to lingering at the table long after the food is gone, though the glasses never seem to run empty.

After my trip to Paris last fall, I’ve (hardly unexpectedly) been on a French food kick and all winter, the one dish I’ve been craving, but never quite got around to making until last week, is about as French as it gets and, I think, perfectly speaks to that kind of meal–cassoulet.

If you’re not familiar with cassoulet, it’s a rib-sticking, richer-than-stew but not-really-a-casserole dish of white beans, chicken or duck, sausage, salt pork, broth, and a ton of garlic. Every person who makes it has their own recipe–which is of course the “right” way (the right way usually coinciding with the way they had it growing up–though in cassoulet’s case, it actually has a whole academie).

The dish has an intimidating reputation, even to me–see above re. L’académie Universelle du Cassoulet. There’s the duck confit (which many recipes include instructions to make yourself), a very specific type of bean, the multi-day cooking time, etc., etc. But it doesn’t need to be that complicated. I’m not advocating for a microwave version (I probably made a Frenchman roll over in his grave just by typing that), but, as with any dish borne out of using what you have and stretching it to serve a crowd, it can be–and was!–simple (and, if not exactly fast, at least doesn’t require a lot of standing-at-the-stove time).

I’ve had this recipe kicking around since October, but my favorite part isn’t the recipe itself (though it’s what I used and what I modified below), it’s the article that precedes it. It addresses perfectly the intimidation factor and how to make this the way I imagine it was made at the beginning–with ingredients you have or can pretty easily get, allowing for adjustments as needed, and to your own tastes. And pretty much however you make it, it will be amazing.

To unintentionally prove a point, I actually screwed up when I made this. In hindsight, I should have added more water while it was cooking, there should have been a bit more broth-yness to the beans by the time it was done. Ideally the crust forms from the liquid, not the beans or chicken. Not a problem–it was still delicious (and totally devoured and I basically had to stop myself from picking off all the crispy chicken skin bits) and I will make adjustments next time.

Cassoulet

Brownies for my Grandpa

Almost two weeks ago, my grandpa died. I’ve been debating writing about this for a lot of reasons, but if this blog is about anything other than food, it’s about family, and he was an important part of mine. It would be selfish of me not to share what I can of him with the world.

There are many, many things that made my grandpa a great man, but they can all be distilled down to one undeniable truth–he loved people, especially his family, and people loved him. Sometimes–well, let’s be honest, often–that love, and his sense of humor, was kind of goofy, a little teasing or sarcastic, possibly, occasionally crude (though never crass or dirty; he (almost) never swore), but always unique to him–even if the joke itself wasn’t unique. I wouldn’t be surprised if my grandma’s (lovingly) rolled her eyes at the same joke for the entire 63 years they were married.

Three weeks before he passed away was Paczki Day, Fat Tuesday. I hadn’t planned on making any, or shipping them overnight to Cleveland where there’s no shortage of good paczki to be had. Still I found myself frying up two dozen golden little donuts filled with my homemade jam that Sunday night, tucking them safely into boxes for their journey. My grandma brought one to my grandpa in the hospital, leaving instructions with his nurses to microwave it a little; paczki are better warm. She told me later that he called her that night to tell her to thank me and that it was delicious.

I was lucky enough to see him the next weekend and despite how simply not like my grandfather he looked–there’s something that twists your heart and makes you feel so old when you realize the people you always, always knew to be big and tall are not so much anymore–the eye-roll-inducing humor and good spirit remained, for which I could not be more grateful. We chatted for a bit and I asked again if he liked the paczki and he said he did, joking he gained four pounds just from one. I reminded him I could make and ship him anything he wanted, cookies, or maybe brownies. “Ooh, brownies…” My grandpa, as my mom later reminded me, loved chocolate.

Two weeks later, as I prepared for another trip to Cleveland, this time to be with my family and celebrate my grandfather’s life, his “Ooh, brownies” kept ringing in my ears. And so, again, I found myself in the kitchen mixing and baking when I should have been packing and sleeping. Somehow the brownies were more important than anything else at that moment. There’s comfort in sharing food with loved ones, especially during a hard time, but making and bringing those brownies with me was purely selfish–it was the last thing my grandpa asked me for and what kind of granddaughter with a food blog and a penchant for cooking for an army would I be if I didn’t deliver?

There isn’t enough time or space or simply the words to share my memories of him, but it’s the little things I keep thinking about and telling anyone who will listen. How he made me his specialty of bacon scrambled into eggs when I had chicken pox as a kid. How we’d always go out for Italian food when he and my grandma were in town and he’d always joke with the waiter about how he was on a fixed income before placing his usual order of veal parmesan and a glass of “white zin.” His voice in the back of my mind as my car crapped out the week he died: “You should’ve bought a GM. When’s the last time you got the oil changed? And maybe take it to the car wash once in a while.” The pride in his voice echoing through the hall as I walked across the stage to get my Master’s degree: “You go, girl!!”

My sisters and I are so lucky, not only to have had him as an incredible grandfather and for the limitless love he gave us, but for how we’ve benefited from how he and my grandma raised their first born, my mom. My aunt said in her eulogy that my grandpa raised his daughters to be independent (and, among other essential life skills, to know the power of duct tape; how to use a lawnmower and a snow blower; and to appreciate a good power tool). Through my mom, how she’s lived her life, made her own way, my grandpa’s lesson came to me. I know he was so proud of her just as he was proud of me. And I could not be prouder to be his granddaughter.

Mom and Grandpa, dancing. He loved to dance.

Thanks, Grandpa. I made you some brownies.

Brownies with Walnuts

What’s Cooking Wednesday: The Beach

Sorry for the silence lately, the weather has gotten me a bit down and, with it, any kitchen inspiration other than egg sandwiches, take out, and freezer leftovers. But this weekend starts Daylight Savings and an extra glorious hour of light when I get home, the temperatures are slowly creeping above freezing, and I got to spend last weekend enjoying this view. I can’t complain.

What’s Cooking Wednesday: Digging In with Peterson Garden Project

You know who throw the best parties? People who love food. That pretty much explains why the Peterson Garden Project’s “Dig In!” kitchen warming and benefit for the new Fearless Food Kitchen was such a blast–an event put on by a group that helps people grown their own food in order to raise money to teach people how to cook good food. (Not to mention, it’s always fun to get a little fancy, especially for a good cause. And really, really good food.)

The party kicked off with fantastically creative cocktails (many with homemade liqueurs and infusions) and a delicious spread of cheese, fruit, and other nibbles while everyone mingled and checked out the new kitchen space (and snuck a peek of dinner being prepared in the kitchen). It was wonderful to talk with so many people excited about the space and see so many equally happy to donate towards everything from whisks and spatulas to serious kitchen hardware like mixers and ovens. My favorite part, though, was watching the inspiration wall fill up as people wrote about those who inspired them to cook and garden.

As cocktails ended, everyone moved to the dining room, long tables beautifully decorated and perfect for a community meal. And oh, the food. Delicious doesn’t begin to describe, and really should go without saying, considering the chefs for the evening were some of the best (and some of my favorites) in Chicago. It took all my willpower (and the reality of a very small purse) to keep from swiping a basket of bread from Baker Miller to take home. Two distinctly different, but equally amazing salads, started the meal: a hearty dish of creamy white beans, potatoes, and pickled vegetables from Joe Frillman (Balena) was a wonderful reminder of what can be done in mid-winter with produce put up in spring and summer; on the opposite end of the spectrum, a fresh, bright, citrusy, spicy salad of apple, mango, and tomatoes from Patty Neumson (Herb, now topping my lists of restaurants to try). I could have been happy eating just these three things for dinner.

Oh but there was more. My first taste of lamb sweetbreads (they were good!), fried and served over white beans and a salad of corn and squash from my favorites, Brad Newman & Michael Taormina (Cookies & Carnitas). Perfectly braised pork with olives and melon by Chris Pandel (Balena, The Bristol, Formento’s); a tasty and light tofu and vegetable dish from Alvin Yu (Fyusion Dining).

The main course that everyone was talking about at the end of the night though, was the short rib by Erling Wu-Bower (Nico Osteria). You could tell who took their first bite by the chorus of “oh my god”s running down the table–I didn’t even get a picture it was gone so fast. It was perfection down to the Roman gnocchi (my new favorite thing, more like polenta cakes than the traditional potato dumpling-style of gnocchi) and roasted celery root. I don’t even like celery or celery-flavored anything and this converted me. Lord, that was good.

And of course, dessert. Because what would a meal like this be without it? Cranberry upside-down cakes with a perfectly sweet and sour sour cream gelato from Amanda Rockman (Nico Osteria, who is also teaching a class on making her iconic gateau basque next month) and a chocolate chip cookie from Baker Miller that was bigger than the saucer for my coffee. I wasn’t the only one who figured out that the best combination was putting the gelato on the cookie, which tasted like what every ice cream sandwich wishes it could be. (Want to know how good that cookie was? So good I actually forgot my purse in favor of searching for a cookie to take home.)

LaManda Joy, founder of the Peterson Garden Project, and me.

Everyone involved in putting this dinner together did an amazing job on every detail, from the gorgeous centerpieces and the wonderfully attentive waitstaff, to the great live music, the cute garden gift bags. Extra kudos to the volunteers who came back the next day in the midst of the fifth largest snowfall in Chicago to clean up.

While digging into a great meal is always a treat, it’s almost time to dig into the soil too (I know, it’s hard to imagine the ground will ever not be frozen). PGP’s new gardener sign-up just opened this week; if you’re interested, register soon spots go fast (and don’t be afraid of the waitlist, it’s how I got in last year)!

I just renewed my little plot at “Vedgewater” and can’t wait to get back outside, tending to my tomatoes, getting dirt under my nails, trying to figure out what’s killing my cucumbers, plucking sweet peas and strawberries to eat as soon as I get home. Soon, soon!