{Feast Events!}

These are my next three Feast events + book signings! I hope you'll come see me ~ consider yourself invited.

{Feast} A Modern Thanksgiving

photo by Yunhee Kim 

Throughout childhood, my mom's annual Thanksgiving was utterly classic-- a Butterball turkey, mashed potatoes, bagged stuffing, grandma's cranberry relish, turkey gravy, warm buttery dinner rolls, and two pies: pumpkin and pecan. The only discussion was whether to make mom's version of sweet potatoes (candied) or dad's (smashed with marshmallow topping), or both (the answer: both!).

The first Thanksgiving after I graduated from culinary school, my siblings put me up to making the whole meal. The mashed potatoes were riced (read: luxuriously lump free) and extra rich (yes, cream). The turkey was brined and the gravy herbed. The rolls were homemade, of course, and the stuffing a decadent, wild mushroom and sage number. My family said it was the best Thanksgiving meal they'd ever had. And then, agreed that they still wanted mom's henceforth. Ah, tradition. 

Truth? That's been a great deal for me--it's the one day of the year I usually don't cook. Plus, Thanksgiving cooking is epic. Super intense. You need a trunk full of ingredients. You need counter space, oven space. You need to wake up early to put in the turkey (deal breaker.). By the time Thanksgiving rolls around, I've already cooked  my heart out all year long; I'm more than happy to just show up to the meal, hungry. 

But somehow I always get lured into making dinner the night before. That's when I cook the meal I really want to eat--the meal I'd be making if I were hosting thanksgiving. This meal would star fish, my favorite protein, and would be decidedly autumnal and centerpiece-worthy. 

It would also be epically easy, because my days of ricing potatoes, folks, were over long ago. These days, I'm more likely to put that effort into getting the family to agree on what movie we'll watch after we've cleaned up, which, by the way, will take just minutes, since this whole meal roasts on one cookie sheet, unlike our beloved pilgrim's feast. 

This, friends, is the modern Thanksgiving. 

ROASTED WILD SALMON, MUSHROOMS AND SQUASH WITH HERB GREMOLATA | SERVES 4

5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

1 organic acorn or delicata squash, seeded and thinly sliced

8 oz oyster mushrooms, trimmed and cut into bite-sized pieces

4 small shallots, peeled and quartered

Sea salt and freshly ground pepper

1 1 ½ -pound skin-on side of wild salmon or arctic char

1 handful sorrel or arugula, chopped

1 handful parsley, chopped

1/3 cup toasted pine nuts

Zest and juice of 1 lemon

Serves 4 {easily doubled or tripled} 

Preheat the oven to 375°F.

Toss together 2 tbsp of the olive oil with the squash, mushrooms, and shallots in a medium bowl. Place in the bottom of a large oven-to-table baking dish and spread out evenly. Season with salt and pepper. Bake until squash is fork-tender and the mushrooms mostly roasted, with some golden and crispy parts, about 20 minutes.

Coat the salmon with 1 tbsp of the olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Lay the salmon on top of the vegetables and continue roasting until just cooked through, about 10 minutes more. The salmon should be pale pink on the outside, easily flaked with a fork and ever so translucent pink in the very center.

Meanwhile, stir together sorrel, parsley, pine nuts, and lemon zest and juice with the remaining 2 tbsp oil. Season with salt and pepper. Scatter the gremolata wildly all over the top. Bring the baking dish to the table still warm from the oven (or transfer the fish and mushrooms to your favorite platter before you add the gremolata) and serve portions of fish, squash and mushrooms with plenty of gremolata for each person. 

baked apples. easy.

photo by Yunhee Kim 

There are a lot of things I’m not good at. I recently forgot (yes, forgot) to vote, I never have the right boots for fall, I’m not blessed with the kind of easy humor that diffuses awkward meetings, and when it comes to pop culture, well, all my material is significantly dated. And that’s just the beginning. But there are a few things I do pretty well—keeping cool under the pressure of a crying toddler—especially on that’s not my own, is one of them. In fact, if you see me on an airplane and your wailing child has everyone turning, squinty eyed your way (as if, folks, that actually helps anything), you might as well pass her down the aisle to me. I likely have something—a song, a goofy face, squeaky toy or other surprise in my bag that might help.

Just last week on a plane to Birmingham, a mother sat down in my row with three kids under age four. She passed them each some some buttery crackers to keep busy, but just as we were wheels up, the littlest one burst into sobs. The mother cooed and bounced her babe on her knee, but the wailing only got worse. I could almost feel her sweating two seats away. Eager to help, I fished in my purse and produced a handful of Hello Kitty stickers. I passed them her way—instant awe and silence from the toddler (stickers are magic). The mother leaned over and mouthed a grateful “thank you.”

Of course, that’s not a talent, really. And just as often, other parents have entertained my child on an airplane or restaurant or other places we find ourselves without all the gear needed to keep things on the up and up. It took me nearly a year to learn we had to bring wipes, snacks and sunscreen everywhere we go (thanks, every mom I met in zoos, beaches and parks, who shared theirs until I got the hang of it), and there’s still lots I have to learn.

Where am I going with this? Ah yes, baked apples.

As women, we grow up believing that we should have a fulfilling career, a satisfying marriage, beautifully coiffed children who never cry on airplanes and all the answers for when they do. We expect ourselves to get our holiday cards out on time and make homemade Christmas gifts and bake, at least once a season, a perfect pie. But the truth is, we can’t be or do all things, no matter how hard we try. We can’t be poised, cultured career women and patient, prepared mothers and have nails that don’t chip or boots that are perfectly up-to-date. And we can’t all bake rustic, divine-looking pies, even if technically we could, given the time and energy, someone to entertain the children while we bake and clean up after us.

But we all deserve to have an easy, everyday dessert for pie season that’s just as good and infinitely easier. That’s baked apples: impossibly simple and nearly guaranteed to make you feel that, despite your shortcomings, or mine, we’re still darn good mothers, wives, and women. This is a dessert that promises that we can, sometimes, invite our friends (or our kid’s friends) over on a Sunday for sweets by the fire, and still have the energy left to iron our slacks, and pack lunches and ballet tights and mittens for the next day so that we can try in earnest to be, not perfect, but our own special breed of our very best. Here’s to agreeing that’s good enough.

BAKED APPLES | SERVES 6

A dessert this simple is hard to resist.  It relies on the exceptional taste of the apple itself, freshly picked and still dense with tart, sweet juice that concentrates to baste itself (with a little help from cinnamon sugar) in the oven. I bake mine in a very hot oven because it’s the crispy, almost–crème brûlée crackle on the top of the apple that makes this easy dessert one of my absolute favorites.

3 tbsp unsalted butter, plus room-temperature butter for the pan

6 crisp, sweet-tart apples such as Jonagold, unpeeled and cored

1 tsp ground cinnamon

3 to 4 tbsp sugar, depending on the sweetness of the apples

Vanilla ice cream  (optional)

Preheat the oven to 400°F/200°C/gas 6. Lightly brush a medium baking dish with room-temperature butter and place the apples, touching if necessary, in the dish, stem-side up. Stir together the cinnamon and sugar in a small bowl. Put a pat of butter inside each apple and sprinkle the tops with cinnamon sugar.

Bake until the apples are sitting in their own juices and starting to sink just a touch and the tops are crispy and caramelizing, 25 to 30 minutes. Cool just slightly on the countertop, about 5 minutes. Spoon the apples onto small plates or shallow bowls and spoon the juices over the top. Serve warm.

REPRINTED WITH PERMISSION FROM Feast: Generous Vegetarian Meals for Any Eater and Every Appetite 

Genmaicha Granola Bars

photo by Yunhee Kim 

I really admire the women (and a handful of guys) I work with at Real Simple — they're funny, smart, totally real people who actually care about one another. Take Jackie, for instance, our deputy managing editor. When I wrote a email to note where'd I'd be next week (everywhere but in the office, between shoots in Birmingham and NYC), she wrote back: "What a week! Take a vitamin." 

For the week I have ahead, I might need more than a vitamin. I need constant, never-failing energy. That's when I turn to the granola bars in my new book, Feast. I took painstaking efforts to perfect them, because, let's face it, granola bars can be a real let down. Sometimes, though, you actually do need food on the go, and the right granola bar is just the thing for that. It should be sustaining, absolutely satisfying, and with enough energy to last until the next meal, whenever that might (or might not) be. 

That's this guy. The meat of it: grains, nuts and seeds, like oats, millet, pepitas, sesame seeds and whole almonds, held together by dates, maple syrup and honey, which also work as natural sweeteners. These bars sustained me through wedding planning, book writing, baby rearing, and weeks of back-to-back video shoots among other things (long road trips, epic bike rides, and hikes I thought might never end). 

My hope for you is simpler. I hope these make the effort (and it's a little one, you'll see) to tackle DIY granola bars worthwhile; and that you'll find them addictively good and delightful to make, eat and share. Some days, they're better than a vitamin. 

A last little note: Genmaicha— green tea leaves with roasted brown rice (found in Asian markets and specialty tea shops) adds depth, a malty richness, and a caffeine boost to these granola bars—but it's not essential. If you can’t find it, skip it. I love them either way. 

GENMAICHA GRANOLA BARS | MAKES 8 TO 10 

2 cups/170 g old-fashioned rolled oats

1/2 cup/60 g millet

1/3 cup/30 g raw sunflower seeds

2 tbsp raw unseasoned pumpkin seeds (pepitas)

1 tbsp sesame seeds

1 tsp ground cinnamon

1/2 tsp fine sea salt

1/3 cup/50 g toasted pecans

1/3 cup/50 g toasted skin-on almonds

1 packed cup pitted Medjool dates

1/3 cup/75 ml Grade B maple syrup, plus more as needed

1/4 cup/60 ml honey or brown rice syrup

1 tsp pure vanilla extract

1 tbsp genmaicha tea leaves (optional)

Preheat the oven to 325°F/165°C/gas 3. Line an 8-in/20-cm square baking pan with parchment paper with overlapping flaps.

Stir together the oats, millet, sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, sesame seeds, cinnamon, and salt in a medium bowl.

Pulse the pecans and almonds in a food processor until coarsely chopped (it’s OK if some nuts are coarsely ground and a little powdery). Stir into the oat mixture.

Pulse the dates in a food processor until a thick paste forms. Add the maple syrup, honey, and vanilla, and pulse until a purée forms. Scrape out the purée with a rubber spatula and stir into the oats mixture. Continue stirring (your clean hands work best), adding the tea leaves if using, until the oats and nuts are sticky and coated with the purée. If the mixture doesn’t clump together easily, add up to 1 tbsp of maple syrup.

Transfer the granola to the prepared baking pan and press into a smooth, even layer. Bake until just starting to brown around the edges, about 25 minutes. Transfer to the counter to cool slightly in the baking pan, about 15 minutes. Grab the flaps of parchment paper and lift out the whole batch transfer to a cutting board. Cut into 8 to 10 bars while still warm. Let them cool completely and serve, or store in an airtight container for up to 1 week.

REPRINTED WITH PERMISSION FROM Feast: Generous Vegetarian Meals for Any Eater and Every Appetite 

Feast

So, here's what's new with me...my second cookbook, Feast: Generous Meals for Any Eater and Every Appetite is on bookshelves, now. Hooray, Hooray! It's a good day. Soon, and very soon, I'll be back with details about events + signings. In the meantime, here's where you can find it.  

~

Chronicle Books

Amazon

Barnes & Noble 

Jessica's Biscuit

xx Sarah

the farm

Depending on where you’re coming from, the best thing about life on a farm is the fresh eggs. Or rich, cold, cream-topped raw milk. Or sunsets that slip down between rows of corn, beet greens and spring onions hugging earth in tidy rows as far as your eye can see. 

If you’re me, the best thing about farm life is hearing every word or whisper your child says. It’s having her, dressed in overall rompers and little else, come and wrap her arms around your neck while you crouch on a worn wooden floor in a tiny bunkroom in the back of a tent. You drop whatever unimportant thing you were doing, and reciprocate, arms around her until you are locked in a rocking, humming state of pure joy. You never once think about grabbing for your phone to take a picture, check a text, or send an email. You don’t wonder what anyone else in the world is doing because the whole world is right in front of you.

It’s the kind of moment I imagine happened between parents and children much more often before the world was so consumed with information or electronics (whichever you dislike more).  It was exactly the kind of moment I was hoping for when, after postponing our summer trip to Hungary, we booked a last minute stay at Kinnikinnick Farm, a tented Feather Down Farm stay in Northern Illinois, just 25 minutes from my childhood home.

~

My obsession with farm life started early, spending summers nursing runt piglets with baby bottles and letting newborn calves suck my thumb on my grandpa’s farm in Central, Iowa. It was fed by 6^th grade simulations of pioneer life (making bread and soup on an old cook stove rocked my world), sleep-away Farm Camp stays in Wisconsin, and a compulsion for growing and sourcing good food.   So when I first read about Feather DownFarms Days, I went straight from “wouldn’t it be fun to stay on one,” to my more usual excessive tendency: “wouldn’t it be fun to run one?”

If you asked my grandparents, who raised their collective nine kids on family farms in the Midwest, or David and Susan Cleverdon, our hosts at Kinnikinnick Farm, they’d probably say that the kinds of pure joy moments I had with Greta, András and my nieces—who joined us on the farm our second night—are, in real farm life, like in my own real life, sandwiched between distractions and responsibilities. My ability to savor them may have more to do with being on vacation than with being on a farm. I'd say it's both. Which is precisely a farm vacation is such a genius modern family escape. 

Let me back up a second. It must be said, that camping out on a Feather Down Farm isn’t exactly roughing it. True, there’s no electricity or running water in the tent (ours had a water pump for washing produce and dishes, but toilets and showers are communal), and you do all your prepping and cooking for your stay yourself on a wood cook stove—but the Dutch-designed tents (think safari style) are luxurious by most standards. Down comforters, feather pillows and pre-stocked crates of dishes, wood and candles are little luxuries that give romance to the lantern-lit evenings and griddle cake breakfasts. And in my book there’s almost no greater luxury than a 5 step walk to the farm’s honesty shop, stocked with eggs, dairy, meat and vegetables grown on this or a neighboring farm—the world’s freshest foods. In fact, the whole Feather Down experience is the “playing house” version of farming—a safe, tiny experiment with living in the good old days that lasts only as long as you need it to.

When we chipped in with chores like feeding pigs and chickens or collecting eggs, these responsibilities were only novelty (to wit: after breakfast on her first morning there, my 11-year old niece Grace, asked with positive excitement, “can I go do chores now?”). When farmer David pulled around with his tractor to collect the kids for chores—mercifully, several hours after the cock’s early-morning-crow—he was undoubtedly doing more to enlighten and entertain our kids than they were doing to help him actually manage the farm.  And, when we took out a goat for a stroll the small orchard, letting him munch from the lush leaves of the apple trees, we didn’t have to also think about feeding, watering and grooming him for years to come.

Real farming is hard work. With each and every crop failure, or hailstorm, or blight in our small family garden in upstate, NY or on our land in Hungary, I’m reminded that though we can just go to the farmer’s market or grocery store to recover our losses, the farmers we otherwise depend on, cannot. But with that incredibly hard work comes a deep meaning, too. Which is why I will probably never tire of playing farmer.

In a quiet moment on our second day on the farm, Greta, Kate and Grace tucked into me and András as we stood in a barn watching a mother goat birth her first twins. We were awestruck—watching the mother struggle and go-it alone, as most animals do in nature. We learned about the urgency of her instinct to lick the first baby’s face and nose clean so he could breath before she set to work birthing the second, how the baby walks within ten minutes of being born, and why she needed to get him to nurse in the first 24 hours. For us it was an education.  For the farmer, who we caught wiping away tears when the second kid arrived safely, this is a daily triumph. Every life counts drastically—in the survival of the farm, and in the cadence of the family life on it.

STAY: Feather Down Farm Days

WHO: Ideal for families with kids ages 2 to 12. The bigger the family the better the deal (since you pay per tent, not per person). Our tent slept six comfortably. Especially ideal for groups of friends or sibling and cousins with kids. Most farms in the U.S. boast four to six tents.

HIGHLIGHTS: Feeding the animals, collecting eggs, walking the goats, bonfires (s’mores!), welcome dinner (whole roasted farm chicken with greens and grains), pizza or BBQ nights (Fridays and Saturdays) and evening baths in the aluminum wash basin. Be sure to call ahead to ask what each farm includes, and what will be available at the time of your stay. 

Twenty-Dollar, Twenty-Minute Meals

It's very easy to make cooking whole, healthful ingredients seem hard, time consuming or expensive. What's hard though, is making it look easy—easy, affordable, absolutely doable every night of the week. Few people do that better than Caroline Wright, author of the new book Twenty-Dollar, Twenty-Minute Meals. 

Caroline is the kind of thoughtful friend who just sends things in the mail—surprises—like a hand-knit baby blanket (when you're expecting your first babe), or a hand-written note on a notecard with a pair of Wellies on the front (because she pays attention to what moves you). So I wasn't entirely surprised when I got a slim, black and white bound book in the mail called Twenty-Dollar, Twenty Minute-Meals that she had written, photographed and published herself as a gift to her friends. Amazing. Who does that? 

While that savvy, slim book sat on my nightstand as a reminder of all the things I believe in (creating, giving, chasing dreams), Caroline turned around and got that very book published by Workman Publishing and it's hitting the book stores this week. So now this very thoughtful collection of recipes is available to you, too. 

When I saw the finished book, this time remade with a bright red cover and the same kind of creative recipes inside, my first thought was, yes! Omelets with Asparagus and Goat Cheese, Roasted Haloumi with Scallions, Cherry Tomatoes and Couscous, and Polenta with Mushrooms and Tellegio? Yes, please. This is the kind of simple, satisfying food cooks, like she and I, make at home at night, make for our friends, and want to get the next generation cooking, too. Because this is food to build a life on. 

This food has gumption. Kind of like Caroline. (that's what it takes to write and publish your own cookbook in your spare time, and get it noticed by a serious publisher).

And this food is thoughtful. Kind of like Caroline. It minds your time and your dishes (one step, one-dirty-dish-only kind of meals), and rewards your effort with bright, surprising, delightful meals.

Take this dish, for example, that I cooked in honor of her Twenty-Dollar, Twenty-Minute Meal book launch party: Zuchini Ribbon Salad with Potatoes, Ricotta Salata, Dill, Peas + Radishes (recipe below). It has almost every one of my favorite foods in it, and puts them together in their easiest form. The potatoes are steamed, the radishes sliced, the zucchini shaved on a simple vegetable peeler. And the peas? No shelling required. Just pert, frozen peas brought to room temperature and tossed in raw. Easy. Peasy. And so, so good.

This is the kind of dish you'd happily make for one (and hoard the leftovers for your weekday work lunch), create to feed a young family (my toddler loved this!), or turn into an easy, spring-inspired dinner party fare. That's kind of the feel of all her food—it fits our modern lives, no matter who we are.

As for me, it's time to pack up that snap ware with the leftovers and head to work. I'll be looking forward to lunch even more than usual today. 

Zucchini Ribbon Salad
 with Potatoes, Ricotta Salata, Dill, Peas + Radishes

Excerpted from Twenty-Dollar, Twenty-Minute Meals

Fill a large saucepan with water to a depth of 2 inches, add salt, and bring it to a simmer over low heat.

Arrange 8 small new potatoes (about 12 ounces total), halved, in a steamer basket and set the basket
in the pan. Cover and steam the potatoes until tender, 10 to 12 minutes. Transfer the potatoes and 1 cup frozen peas to a colander and run under cold water until the potatoes are cool and the peas hae thawed.

While the potatoes cook, use a vegetable peeler to shave 4 zucchini and/or yellow summer squash into a medium bowl in long, thin strips.

Add the potatoes and peas; 4 ounces ricotta salata, sliced; 1 cup sliced radishes; 3 tablespoons chopped fresh dill; 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil; and 
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice. Season with salt and pepper, toss, and serve.

 Copyright 2013 by Caroline Wright

Used by permission of Workman Publishing Co., Inc. New York

All Rights Reserved    

            

For more easy, delicious recipes like this one, check out these bloggers today as they celebrate Caroline's book! 

• Food 52
• Weelicious
• Sassy Radish
• Matt Bites
• Seven Spoons
• Devour Blog (CookingChannel.com)
• Gastronomer's Guide
• The Wright Recipes

getting is just right

We’ve been reading a lot of classic old stories around our house lately. Rapunzel. Hansel and Gretel. Goldilocks and the Three Bears. I can really relate to Goldilocks—I like things to be just right. But it can sometimes seem hard to get there. Especially when you’re trying to get it all right in so many places at once. You hit a home run at work, but drive your toddler to tears; as soon as you’ve managed to convince said toddler that you are the funniest, most wonderful mamma in all the earth, you go and piss your husband right off.    

No one ever said family life was easy. But sometimes you get it just right.

Saturday was one of those kinds of days. We didn’t win the lottery, or accomplish much, really, but it was a nearly perfect day. In the morning, while Greta played in her toy kitchen, I made this baked oatmeal that had been calling to me for days. Delicious. Next, we pulled out the easel and paints, made a few dozen messes and changed our clothes at least twice--always a sign of fun being had. We laid on our bellies on a quilt in the sun eating our first ice cream cones of the season and making up silly songs.  We dug in the yard, planting a few things, pulled up some others. And just before we were about to call it quits for the day, we discovered a patch of wild onions in the back corner of the yard that we’d long overlooked. Jackpot. It was just the thing my random collection of dinner ingredients (black bass, two young eggplant, organic kumquats, the season’s first radishes) would need.

By 6 PM we were all covered head to toe in dirt, winded from moving soil and mulch and one tiny, energetic girl through the day. Everyone was suddenly starving, and needed fed, fast. That, my friends, is when you put your broiler and grill pan to work. Drizzle fat fillets of black bass with sea salt, freshly cracked pepper, and olive oil, then pop them in the oven to broil, while the same mixture (salt, pepper, olive oil) dresses thin slices of small, firm eggplant for cooking on the grill pan. It is the ultimate, ten-minute dinner. (If you happen to have some homemade green goddess dressing on hand in the fridge –thank you Real Simple test kitchen—even better. If not, see the recipe, below).

As it all came together on the plate, I started to have that buzzy, motivated feeling you get when you just came up with something really good. András poured us each our favorite Belgian beer, and we gathered at the table. And just when started to pick up our forks, Greta, sitting in her usual spot between us, reached for our hands and said, “Mamma, the prayer!” Oh yes, the prayer. She bowed her head and started, “dear Lord, thank you so much for everything. We’re grateful for our family. We’re grateful for … (something we couldn’t quite make out) and ice cream. Now eat. The end.”

This—parenting—trying to build a life that makes your child joyful, curious, and grateful—is working. And, after weeks of admittedly so-so I'm-too-tired-to-cook dinners, this dinner was working too. In fact it was just exactly right.

I’m not suggesting you go rooting around your backyard for wild onions. Or that you need kumquats or Belgian beer or ice cream cones on a quilt in the sunshine to make life feel swell (though all of the above are great places to start). Sometimes, though, you need a little inspiration—something that speaks to your soul. A bubble bath. A tickle fest with your toddler. Pizza and pink champagne with a good friend. Thirty minutes in the kitchen with a recipe you’ve been jonesing to try. A whole day with no plans or obligations, at all. And a really good dinner that takes almost no time at all to make, and leaves hardly a dirty dish behind.

That night, Greta actually went to bed without a fight. And though we were utterly, deliciously exhausted, András indulged me with a fire on what have been be our last cool night for a long while. I fell asleep to sounds of freshly split wood popping and crackling, my soul content. For one long, ordinary day, everything feels just right. 

~

*I was thinking about all this, and writing this post about our family dinner, when I read that my friend and fellow author, Shauna James Ahern was hosting a Family Dinner party online in honor of the launch of her new, beautiful book, Gluten-Free Girl Every Day. The opening lines of the book read like a glimpse into her lovely, loving and welcoming family life. Shauna, Danny and Lucy, this one's for you: our Saturday dinner, which just so happens to be naturally gluten-free. *


Roasted Black Bass with Radish, Green Onion and Citrus

serves 4

4 6-oz fillets black bass
2 tablespoons olive oil, plus for serving
coarse sea salt and freshly ground pepper
4 radishes, sliced
6 wild onions or small scallions
4 kumquats or 1 to 2 small pixies or clementines, thinly sliced

Preheat your broiler to high, on the convection broil setting if available. Drizzle the fish with the oil and season with salt and pepper. Spread out on a baking sheet and broil until golden brown and the fish is just cooked through, 6 to 10 minutes (depending on the thickness of your fish and the heat of your broiler), adding your onions to the pan in the last 2 minutes of cooking. Serve warm, topped with the radish, scallions and citrus. Drizzle with additional olive oil. 

~

Grilled Eggplant with Green Goddess Dressing and Pistachios 

serves 4

2 medium eggplant, thinly sliced
2 tablespoons olive oil
coarse sea salt and freshly ground pepper
1/3 cup loosely packed parsley 
1/4 cup chopped chives
Juice and zest of 1 lemon
1 teaspoon anchovy paste (optional)
1 small clove garlic
1/2 cup plain Greek yogurt
1/3 cup mayonnaise
Handful pistachios, roughly chopped

Preheat the grill or grill pan to medium-high. Drizzle or brush both sides of the eggplant with olive oil. Season with salt and pepper. Grill until charred and just tender, 3 to 4 minutes per side. 

Meanwhile, combine the parsley, chives, lemon juice and zest, anchovy paste, garlic, Greek yogurt, and mayonnaise in a blender or food processor and pulse until smooth. 

Serve the eggplant topped with a bit of green goddess and pistachios.