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. 

feeding the soul

Starting a new job is always hard. But I’ve sort of been through the ringer with this one. In the span of my first three months, I went through company layoffs, loosing two great editors and getting news that the company might sell. Then, Greta got an endless cough (file that under “no one sleeps”), pink eye, and stitches (note to your child’s nursery—do not hide Easter eggs anywhere near a wrought iron gate). Between that, a never ending winter and the crowded commute on the F train, my spirit was suffering a bit. Not serious suffering, like living through war and poverty suffering, but not its light and joyful self. 

It’s times like this I’m incredibly grateful for a good friend and her birthday—the perfect excuse to flee all responsibility for one uninterrupted hour (a near impossible find for two mothers) with her, a pizza and a glass of pink champagne. A whole hour of real (non-work-related) adult conversation? As she put it, “it’s the first time I’ve ever finished telling you a story without stopping every thirty seconds to say ‘here’s your grapes,’ ‘yes I can get your more milk,’ and ‘do you need to go potty?’” Mommies, I know you get this.

Besides the usual (how our husbands annoy us and are at the same time insanely amazing), here’s what I learned in that hour—that nothing, nothing can heal the spirit like face time with someone you love. File that under feeding the soul. And in the same file, goes cooking that baked oatmeal that’s been calling your name ever since you read about it on this blog post last week (from another new mommy who gets it—hey, in these circles, making baked oatmeal is a much bigger accomplishment than it sounds). When something, or someone is calling to you, listen. 

Here’s the thing—to be creative, you have to create. To dream, you to have time to close your eyes. To shine, you have to see the light. And to feed the soul, well, sometimes you need to bake oatmeal, or play hookie for an hour, or order champagne in the middle of the day. Trust me, everything and everyone around you will be better for it.

Baked Oatmeal with Caramelized Bananas, Vanilla and Hazelnuts

Adapted from Super Natural Every Day by Heidi Swanson (via Orangette by Molly Wizenberg)

Serves 6

Baked Oatmeal

½ cup hazelnuts (blanched or skins removed)

2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats

½ cup skin-on sliced almonds

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 ½ teaspoons ground cinnamon

½ teaspoon sea salt

2 cups whole milk

1/3 cup pure maple syrup

1 large egg, beaten

3 tablespoons melted unsalted butter, cooled slightly

2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

Roasted Bananas

2 tablespoons butter

2 tablespoons brown sugar

1 vanilla bean

2 bananas, halved lengthwise

Preheat the oven to 350°F.

Toast the nuts in the oven until lightly toasted and fragrant, 8 minutes. Remove and cool.

Meanwhile, stir together the oats, almonds, baking power, cinnamon and salt in a 2-quart baking dish.

Whisk together the milk, maple syrup, egg, half the butter and vanilla in a bowl or large liquid measuring cup. Pour evenly over the oats and stir lightly to make sure all the oats are evenly moistened. Drizzle the remaining butter over the top.

Bake for 40 to 45 minutes, or until the top is lightly golden and the oats have set.

While the oatmeal bakes, heat the butter, brown sugar and vanilla bean in a shallow pan. Add the bananas and cook over low heat until the bananas are golden and buttery, adding a splash of water as needed, about 5 minutes. Keep warm over very low heat.

Top the baked oatmeal with the bananas and the vanilla-brown sugar syrup. Serve warm.

Barley Risotto with Swiss Chard, Radishes, and Preserved Lemon

It doesn't matter where you go or get to in life, in my world getting published in Martha Stewart Living is always a thrill. She's an icon, and her pages has inspired so much beautiful living. In this month's April issue (with the gorgeous red + white painted eggs on the cover), is my first ever Living piece, one I developed last spring out of the inspiring greens (Tuscan kale, purslane, sorrel, mustard greens, mache and arugula) I plant in our garden each year. 

The leading recipe, pictured here, Barley Risotto with Swiss Chard, Radishes and Preserved Lemon, is beloved in two senses. First, it stars my very favorite spring ingredient: tiny pert radishes, and Swiss chard, the two things I pick first from my garden each year. Second, it is one of the first recipes I developed for my new book, Feast: Generous Vegetarian Meals for Any Eater and Every Appetite. 

And then there is the dreamy combination of photos by Con Poulos and styling by Susie Theodorou, two uber talents who make me want to run every meal I create through their creative lens and put it to print. They make this, and the other six images on these pages sing. 

Thank you Lady Martha, for sharing a few of your pages with my recipes this month. 

BARLEY RISOTTO WITH RADISHES, SWISS CHARD + PRESERVED LEMON || SERVES 4

From Feast: Generous Vegetarian Meals for Any Eater and Every Appetite

This modern, vegetable-lover’s risotto is made with barley, a homey whole grain that is easy to love, and one that will love you back with extra iron and minerals. Bright radishes and tart preserved lemon, both bold in texture and flavor, soften into the creamy texture of barley that’s been cooked like risotto. When the season changes from spring to late summer, make this again with multicolored young carrots instead of radishes.

4½ cups/1 L vegetable stock (see recipe below) or water

2 tbsp unsalted butter or extra-virgin olive oil

1 cup/200 g pearl barley, rinsed

8 to 10 small radishes

1 bunch Swiss chard, stemmed and torn into large pieces

1 preserved lemon, seeded and thinly sliced

Sea salt

Small handful fresh dill, coarsely chopped

8 large fresh mint leaves, coarsely chopped or torn

Bring the stock to a simmer in a small saucepan over medium heat. Reduce the heat to medium-low to keep warm. Heat the butter in another medium saucepan over low heat. Add the barley and stir to coat, toasting it lightly in the butter. Add 2 cups/480 ml of the stock and bring to a boil over medium heat. Reduce the heat to medium-low, and simmer until the stock is mostly absorbed, stirring frequently, about 5 minutes.

Add the radishes and remaining stock, ½ cup/120 ml at a time, stirring frequently, until the barley is tender, about 45 minutes. Add the chard and stir until wilted, about 5 minutes. Stir in the preserved lemon and add up to ¾ tsp salt, depending on how salty your broth or lemons are.

Remove from the heat. Stir in the dill and mint. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Roasted Beets with Ricotta + Pistachios: Sunday Suppers, part ii

Good morning! Isn't this a beautiful site to wake up to? These are more of the lovely photos by Karen Mordechai from our valentine's sunday supper dinner. This is the first course of our feast ~ Roasted Beets with Ricotta and Pistachios ~ one of my favorite recipes from my book, The Newlywed Cookbook. She caught me as I was plating 24 of these jeweled beauties for our valentine's guests. Swing over to her site {sunday-suppers.com} for the recipe, along with more photos and the recipe for my Braised Short Ribs with Gremolata and Melted Polenta. I'm still dreaming about how good that was....

food styling :: Sarah Copeland
photography :: Karen Mordechai for Sunday Suppers

Carrot Soup with Hazelnuts + Blood Orange Oil: Sunday Suppers, part i

I tend to be a fan of the understated. When Karen from Sunday Suppers called with the idea of hosting a valentine's supper together, promising our approach would be anything but obvious, I knew she'd come up with something novel and chic. She always does. But I didn't count on this earthy brilliance--twigs, spelling out L-O-V-E, taped to the white washed walls behind the table which she dressed with tiny blooms. It was just right. 

And, it was the perfect setting for teaching exactly the kind of cooking I believe love thrives on -- simple, beautiful food with flavors that shine. Carrot soup, with a little care, is the king of earthy brilliance. Start with fresh carrots, as close to home-grown as possible {we have the farmer's market to thank for ours}, and simmer them into a silky soup with onions, ginger and water. Then, once pureed, finish them with fresh pressed carrot juice for pure, vibrant flavor. With a garnish of yogurt, roasted hazelnuts and a simple homemade blood-orange oil, this soup is art for the eyes and the mouth. 

P.S. This soup is an early preview of my new cookbook, Feast, which I just saw the cover of today! 

Carrot Soup with Hazelnuts and Blood Orange Oil

Serves 4 to 6

4 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil, plus 2 tbsp for blood-orange oil

1 yellow onion, thinly sliced

1 garlic clove, smashed

1 in/2.5 cm peeled fresh ginger, chopped

2 lbs/910 g organic carrots, peeled and chopped

4 to 5 cups/960 ml to 1.2 L water

1 sprig fresh thyme

Sea salt and freshly cracked pepper

2 cups/480 ml fresh carrot juice

1/2 cup/120 ml full-fat plain yogurt

½ bunch of chives, snipped or chervil

1/3 cup roasted hazelnuts, roughly chopped

1 blood orange, juiced

Heat 2 tbsp of the olive oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add the onion and cook until tender, 6 to 8 minutes. Add the garlic and ginger, and cook until fragrant, about 1 minute. Add the carrots, thyme and enough water to cover (4 cups if you like a thicker soup, 5 cups if you like yours thinner) and bring to a boil. Cover loosely and reduce to a simmer. Season with salt and pepper.

Cook until vegetables are completely tender, 20 to 30 minutes. Remove the thyme, remove from the heat and purée until smooth, about 3 minutes. Stir in fresh carrot juice, reheating over a low flame as needed to warm through. Season and keep warm over a low flame until you are ready to serve.

Stir together the blood orange juice with in an additional 2 tbsp of finishing oil. Ladle the soup into four or six shallow bowls, and garnish with a dollop of yogurt in each bowl. Finish with a drizzle of blood-orange oil, hazelnuts and a sprinkle of chopped chives. Serve warm.

recipes + food styling :: Sarah Copeland
styling + photography :: Karen Mordechai for Sunday Suppers

shades of white + a sunday oasis

my kitchen upstate is covered in shades of white. milky white tiles canvas the walls. white wooden cabinets conceal a mis-match of kitchen tools and baking grains. ivory ironstone bowls and platters litter the rough wooden shelves, waiting to be filled. i could spend hours upon hours in that kitchen cooking, dreaming, creating— my eyes feasting on every ruby red beet and oxblood orange standing out against the backdrop, beacons of good things to come.

in the city, there is so much color, so much noise. it is rich, but when my mind craves space, it is white I seek. so, when i find a space as drenched with light and possibility as my own country kitchen, i cherish it. 

this {pictured} is the sunday suppers studio, where last sunday night i was invited to teach and prepare a valentine's feast. the studio is an oasis of light and loveliness, a vision of its creator karen mordechai. it is a place i could return to again and again, soaking in the order the as my knife glides rhythmically across the cutting board, leaving rings of blood orange falling from their frame in its wake. 

here, before guests arrived, these quiet moments fed my soul and stoked my spirit. And then we feasted. 

The Menu

~
Roasted Beets with Ricotta and Pistachios

Carrot Soup with Hazelnuts and Blood Orange-Oil

Braised Short Ribs with Herb and Citrus Germolata
Melted polenta

Little Tangerine Pine Nut Pies
Homemade Chocolate Sorbet

I'll be back later this week with more photos {from karen} and recipes {from me}. Come visit us both very soon.

{visit} http://sunday-suppers.com

Magic Winter Squash and Bean Soup

When I first started making vegetarian soups, I worried that they would be watery or bland without the round, soothing backdrop of good chicken stock. In its stead, some folks take the time to make a rich roasted vegetable stock, but the point of soup, to me, is a meal that’s warm and satisfying on the fly—something simple but downright good.  

My winter soup fits the bill. It’s as nimble and changing as my mood. The only constant is the butternut squash (which breaks down and both colors and flavors the broth to a richer state, like magic) and aged Parmesan (rind simmered in the soup for depth, and shavings over the top for a salty satisfaction). I usually add potatoes (which thicken the broth) and something green (for good health). The rest, my friends, is utterly subject to your whim. 

Besides chopping vegetables, there’s not much to this. You’ll find your way. Promise.

This is the kind of soup you’ll want to eat for days on end when the temperature drops and the ground is suddenly covered in white. And if you make it in your biggest pot, you can. Served with thick slices of whole grain bread and butter, it will leave you so contented you'll need little more than a juicy Clementine for dessert.

So what’s the real magic of this soup? It’s almost guaranteed to serve as many as can fit around your table (or will double or triple till it does). Keep a pot of this going once a week in the winter and you might find your table full of friends and neighbors, waiting with their hands wrapped on eager bowls.

Ladle it forth. The sun is setting later now but there's much to winter yet ahead. 

~

Magic Winter Squash and Bean Soup

Serves 6 to 8

4 large carrots, scrubbed

4 stalks celery, plus leaves

2 handfuls fingerling potatoes, scrubbed

1 large squash, peeled and cleaned (or 20 ounces cubed butternut squash)

4 small campari or 3 plum tomatoes (optional)

1 large bunch kale 

1 small wedge aged Parmigiano Reggiano

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

Several sprigs of fresh thyme

6 to 8 cups water, plus as needed

Pinch red pepper flakes

Sea salt and freshly ground pepper

1 15-oz can of your favorite beans, rinsed and drained

 1. Slice the carrots and celery plus the celery leaves. Quarter the potatoes and cut the squash into chunks. Quarter the tomatoes. Remove the ribs from the kale and chop into bite-sized pieces. Set all the vegetables aside. Trim the parmesan away from the rind (or use a rind saved from a previous wedge) and set the rest aside. 

2.Heat the olive oil in a large soup pot over medium high heat. Add the carrots, celery and celery leaves and stir to coat. Cook until lightly browned, 3 to 5 minutes. Add the potatoes, squash, tomatoes, water, thyme and parmesan rind and bring to a simmer. Add a generous pinch of red pepper flakes and season with salt and pepper. Cook until the vegetables are tender, the squash is beginning to break down, and the soup is full of flavor, about 45 minutes to 1 hour.

3. Stir in the beans and cook to warm through, 2 minutes. Remove the lid and add the kale. Stir to cook (uncovered) until bright green and tender, 3 minutes more. Ladle into bowls and grate parmesan cheese generously over the top. Serve warm with buttered bread.

winter blues + blueberry barley and banana pancakes

So much for New Year’s resolutions. Already this month I've done two truly bad things I’ve never done before. First, I knowingly bought blueberries out of season. Naughty. And second, I lied to my sister. It wasn’t a lie exactly, but if I’m being honest, it was a clear omission of truth. Here’s how it happened:  

You can probably relate to this part—we were home for the holidays, my siblings and I, our kids and spouses under Mom and Dad’s roof, enjoying breaking all our own rules. I twice ate (and enjoyed) the fresh berries my parents graciously buy to keep our fruit-loving family in oatmeal toppings while they’re feeding us by the dozen. And though they weren't anything close to seasonal, if I’m being honest again, it was truly freeing. Next, we had pancakes more than twice in one week—first, mom’s light and lovely whole-wheat buttermilk stacks, and then at Richard Walker Brother’sPancake House, where their endless list of options brought out the utter glutton in me. No matter that they aren’t even that good. They churn those babies out in every shape, size and flavor.

Here’s the thing, I love making pancakes, and developing delicious, surprising combinations people love. But I rarely crave them. I expect a breakfast to be filling, long-lasting, energy inducing--the kind of thing that sticks with you for a long day on snowshoes or skis. Pancakes, delightful as they are, rarely fit that bill. 

But when you want pancakes, only pancakes will do.

Pancakes were on my mind for a good week following our trip home. Still, determined to clean up my act after the New Year, I ordered the Blueprint Cleanse and encouraged my sis to do the same. During our juicing days, I sent supportive texts of good cheer (wait till you taste the cashew milk!), and then, on Friday, another that said: Stock the fridge with fresh fruits and vegetables for the weekend. No pancakes. But when I woke up Saturday morning, I could think of nothing but pancakes. And there on the top shelf of our fridge was the half-pint of organic, boldly out-of-season blueberries I’d shamelessly bought for oatmeal, taunting me. Oatmeal? Or blueberry pancakes? 

So here’s what I decided: Pancakes we could have, but no white flour, and definitely no butter (okay, just one pat). They should taste like a classic—light, fluffy—but with a lot more heart and good intent. Since this was an utter detour from the cleanse (pancakes are, after all, just cake disguised as breakfast) they had to be worth it. Irresistibly good.

Sometimes good things happen when you allow yourself a sudden detour. This particular good thing was fluffy, hearty, lovable blueberry barley banana pancakes. No white flour. No sugar. No butter (except that harmless pat you see). And though there are a few naughty fresh blueberries sprinkled on top, these pancakes are studded with organic frozen blueberries (Cascadia farms), frozen in peek season when they are best, and just the thing to keep on hand for when you’re craving some winter blues. 

Here’s to being bad. Love you sis. 

~

Blueberry Barley and Banana Pancakes

Makes 8 pancakes

3/4 cup whole-wheat white flour

½ cup barley flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

½ teaspoon fine sea salt

1 egg

1 cup 2% milk

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1 ripe banana, smashed

1 cup organic blueberries, fresh or frozen

Canola oil, for cooking

Pure maple syrup, for serving

Whisk together the flours, baking powder and salt in a medium bowl. In a separate bowl, whisk together the egg, milk and vanilla; stir in the smashed banana.  Stir the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and mix until just combined.

Heat a large cast-iron or non-stick griddle over medium heat. Brush the pan with a thin layer of oil and drop the pancakes by ¼-cupfuls onto the griddle, leaving plenty of space between them to let them spread. Cook until the pancakes start to bubble around the edge, about 2 minutes. Sprinkle a few blueberries around each pancake and carefully flip. Cook until the pancakes are set and lightly golden brown, 2 minutes more. Repeat with the remaining batter, brushing lightly with oil as needed. Serve warm with maple syrup. 

P.S. I know what you’re thinking—barley flour, really? Yes, really. Buy it, and I promise I’ll give you more than one way to put it to good use. It’s my favorite whole-grain flour, and it marries like a dream with bananas and warm, bursting blueberries. You'll find it in the health-food section of your supermarket, at your local health food store, or easily online.