Fried Zucchini. Need I say more?

{photo by Sara Remington}

I'm officially declaring this national zucchini month on the blog, because, well, I love zucchini and there are so many darn good ways to eat it. This is my all. time. favorite. Don't quote me on that because I might say that again when I post another recipe next week. But for today, this is it. The best. It's lighter than it sounds, because I make my batter with wheat beer which keeps the batter thin and crackly, and makes it especially apropos for serving with your micro brew of choice. 

Tomorrow eve, Andras, Greta and I fly to Hungary {during the fireworks, what??} where the fields his parents farm are full of insanely huge szookeeni {note: that's the phonetic spelling, not proper Hungarian spelling} that his mom turns into restorative brothy soups. While we're slurping them and settling into our world over there, I hope you'll be frying up a batch of these babies while the sparks fly overhead. Happy Fourth of July!  

~

Fried Zucchini

From The Newlywed Cookbook 

Serves 6 to 8

{light and crisp} In the heart of the summer when markets are practically giving zucchini away, buy a bunch and transform them into summer fries that could turn the heads of even the strictest potato devotees. These zucchini get their light and crispy skin from a beer batter. Use a beer you’d enjoy drinking. Eat them fresh and hot from the fryer dipped in harissa-spiked Spicy Mayo.

Vegetable oil, for frying

2 medium-large firm zucchini/courgette, scrubbed and cut into 2-in-/5 cm-long sticks

1 large egg, beaten

½ cup/120 ml cold full-flavored wheat beer

¾ cup/90 g all-purpose/plain flour

Sea salt

Spicy Mayo

Before you begin, have everything you’ll need handy so you can concentrate when you’re working with hot oil on the stove. Set up a wire rack on a baking sheet/tray lined with paper towels/absorbent paper.

In a large, deep frying pan, heat 1 in/2.5 cm vegetable oil over medium-high heat until it reaches 350°F/180°C/gas 4 on a deep-fat thermometer. Decrease the heat to medium-low to keep the oil temperature steady.

Whisk together the egg and beer in a large bowl. Gradually whisk in the flour to make a thin batter.

Check the oil temperature again. It should read just under 350°F/180°C/gas 4 and will drop slightly, to about 325°F/165°C/gas 3 as you add the zucchini/courgette pieces. This is the perfect temperature for frying.

Dip vegetable pieces in the batter a few at a time to coat and let the excess drip off before carefully lowering them into the hot oil. Fry until the batter puffs and is crisp and golden, about 2 minutes. Turn over with a slotted spoon and continue cooking 1 minute more. Be sure to cover the pan with a splatter guard to protect yourself as the zucchini/courgette pops and sizzles enthusiastically {it’s full of water}. Remove with a slotted spoon and drain on the rack. Sprinkle with salt while it’s still warm. Continue until all the squash is fried.

Serve hot and fresh with Spicy Mayo or all on their own in a basket lined with paper towels/absorbent paper.

P.S. This batter keeps well overnight in the fridge. Use any leftovers to fry okra or onions rings.

~

Spicy Mayo

From The Newlywed Cookbook 

Makes about 1/2 cup/120 ml

{from any country}Creamy mayonnaise mixed with Greek yogurt is the perfect, luscious base to tame the feisty heat of a hot red pepper paste. Stir in North African harissa, Hungarian hot red pepper paste, Southeast Asian sambal oelek, or Sriracha sauce to add a fiery streak to your favorite snack or supper.

1/4 cup/60 ml Greek yogurt

1/4 cup/60 ml olive-oil mayonnaise or regular mayonnaise

2 to 3 tbsp hot pepper sauce or paste

Pinch of fine sea salt

Freshly ground black pepper

Mix together the yogurt, mayonnaise, and enough hot pepper paste to make you sweat. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Serve on everything your heart desires, especially Baguette BLTs with Spicy Moroccan Mayo. Store in the fridge for up to 4 days.

Motherhood Mondays, Pancakes Parties + Oatmeal Yogurt Pancakes with Blackberry Crush

{photo by Sara Remington for The Newlywed Cookbook}

There is nothing, nothing I love more than a full house. A house full of chubby hands and tiny bare feet and little hungry mouths. I especially love a house with all of that plus one grown up man who fills our one room with his big love and easy laughter. When that man is gone, as András is this weekend, even our teeny tiny home can feel too big and quiet for just Greta and me.

Greta gets up about 6 AM and doesn't nap until about one, so as much as we are best buds, Saturday mornings can feel kind of long without a partner to pass off another spill or diaper to while you simply wash your face. On those days, mothering can feel a lot easier, and more fun, when you're doing it together. I'm pretty sure that modern mothering, in isolated, very private homes, away from our families or the rest of our tribe, is a newish phenomenon. It can seem that other mothers doing the same things (diapering, wiping noses and refilling sipping cups) are really far away, even if they are right next door, or in my case, upstairs.

Neighborhood sing-alongs and play groups are wonderful, but since ours happen on weekdays, when I'm working, I decided it's high time to start our own. The best way to gather a crowd is food of course, and there's few more universally kid and adult friendly foods than pancakes. So Saturday morning, we decided to have an impromptu pancake party, and invited our neighborhood mamas and kids over for a big, boisterous breakfast.  You've heard me talk about how little this place is, so you can guess we don't have extra high chairs or booster seats, but we filled every empty stool and mamma's knee with a hungry toddler and even had a little prince perched with a breakfast tray on the play mat.

We had so much fun I didn't take a single picture, which means I'm in full happy mama mode, and not even thinking a lick about work.  Mission accomplished ~ happy mamas, happy babies. And, despite our space, I can't imagine why I didn't do this before! And you can too. No matter how chaotic your world seems or how unaccomplished you believe yourself to be at cooking or entertaining, pancakes are easy, inexpensive, fast to put together and hard to mess up, even when you have little helpers.

Pictures or not, I wanted to share a little how-to with you. When you need to fill your house -- be it Saturday, Sunday or even a Monday Fun-day (yes, I'm promoting playing hooky from your regular Monday obligations once and a while!) a pancake party is just the thing.

Here's how:

1. Put together your dry ingredients the night before. Make your pancake batter in advance in the morning, and preheat the griddle pan just about the time you expect your pals to arrive. Preheat the oven or toaster oven to about 250 to keep pancakes warm if needed (though I rarely need it with little hungry guests)

2. Set out snacks and pancake toppers like sliced strawberries and bananas so the littles have something to start on when they get there.

3. Stack soft spill-proof sippy cups and two sturdy low-rocks glasses ~ one filled with grown up forks and the other with kiddo ones. Borrow extra boosters or set up a little kiddie table for the extra little ones that don't fit around your table.

4. Set out a stack of paper and washable markers or crayons and let the littles make their own place mats while they wait. And, have a small apron and miniature whisk on hand for any kiddos who want to get in the mix and give their pancake skills a whirl.

5. Skip the extras ~ coffee or tea will do for the grown ups, milk for the kids ~ and focus on the fun.

6. This one is very important ~ Don't give a second thought to messes. As I learned from my mom, messes are a good indicator of fun. 

6. Have a good story book waiting by the couch for cuddling up with full bellies and eager ears for story time.

Here's my best easy, parent and child friendly recipe for pancakes that will fill your tummies and your homes the next morning you need to feel like a part of something bigger then what's within your four walls. And before you go, I'd love to hear, what do you do to create community a fill your family days with friendship and laughter?

xo

Sarah 

~

Oatmeal-Yogurt Pancakes with Blackberry Crush

from The Newlywed Cookbook 

~

Oats add great flavor, texture, and a little nutritional boost to almost any baked good.  I love their flavor, but in this dish, the oats fade into the background behind the ethereal texture of perfectly plump, tender pancakes. The Greek yogurt works like buttermilk or sour cream, giving these pancakes a dependable rise that makes them our classic weekend pancakes.

Deep, dark purple blackberries, crushed over heat, polish off your meal with a decadent finish that's antioxidant rich and delicious. When blackberries are out of season, replace them with any juicy berry, like blueberries or black raspberries.

Serves 4

{Blackberry Crush}

2 cups/480 ml fresh blackberries

1/4 cup/50 g raw or turbinado sugar

1/4 cup/60 ml pure maple syrup, plus more if needed

{Pancakes}

1 2/3 cups/190 g all-purpose/plain flour

2/3 cup/55 g old-fashioned rolled oats

2 tablespoon granulated sugar

1 1/4 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 heaping teaspoon baking soda/bicarbonate of soda

1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt or iodized salt

1 cup/240 ml Greek yogurt, plus more for garnish

1cup/240 ml whole milk

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted, plus for the pan
2 large eggs

1.     To make the Blackberry Crush: Combine the blackberries and sugar in a medium bowl and mash slightly with a fork.  Strain the juice into a small pot and reserve the berries. Heat the juice over medium heat and simmer until it is thick, syrupy, and easily coats the back of the spoon, about 8 minutes. Remove from the heat and stir in the maple syrup. Cool slightly, and pour over the berries. Adjust the sweetness with additional maple syrup if needed. Set the syrup aside.

2.     To make the pancakes: Whisk together flour, oats, sugar, baking powder, baking soda/bicarbonate of soda, and salt in a large bowl. In a separate bowl, whisk together the yogurt, milk, the melted butter, and eggs. Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients, and whisk in the wet ingredients until well incorporated. The batter should be thick, with little tiny bubbles on the surface.

3.     Heat a cast-iron or nonstick griddle or heavy frying pan over medium heat until a drop of water sizzles when splashed on the pan. Brush the griddle lightly with melted butter. Drop about 1/3 cup/75 ml of batter per pancake onto the hot griddle, leaving about 1 in/2.5 cm or so between pancakes. When bubbles form around the edges of the batter, gently lift and flip the pancakes with a flexible spatula. Cook on the other side until the pancakes are golden brown around the edges, about 2 minutes. Don’t worry if the first one doesn’t come out perfect—just adjust your heat as needed and nibble on the practice pancake while you stack up a plate of beauties. Repeat, adding more butter to the pan as needed until all the pancakes are cooked.

4.     To serve, stack the pancakes as high as you dare, and garnish with butter or additional Greek yogurt and a generous ladle of Blackberry Crush. Serve hot and fresh. 

P.S. If you happen to be writing your own cookbook, kids make the best recipe testers. They tell you straight out (with their tongues and icky faces, if not with their words) when they don't like something! Thanks guys for the great feedback. More pancakes for you soon.

* I borrowed the term Motherhood Mondays from one of my favorite writers and inspiring mothers, Joanna Goddard, whose Motherhood Mondays column on her blog is likely to touch and inspire any mama's reading here too.

Christmas Merrymaking

u.e.s., new york

On Tuesday of last week, I got this invitation in the mail from The Brothers Clark.

The Brothers Clark, who are these fine gentlemen, I wondered?

From the tone of their invite, I imaged a set something like the Mast Brothers, strikingly stylish and certainly suave entertainers. I set my calendar with the inscribed details: a Recession Reception in their finely appointed Upper East Side Apartment; attire of the black tie variety, "though we highly encourage you to explore your own variation of this theme, pocket watches, monocles, power ties, Park Avenue gold digger get ups and anything that says I couldn't care less about my neighbor's foreclosure."

And then it came to me, these are the devilish brothers, Frankie and Johnny, youngest of a brood of Clarks that began with my friend Katie, and worked its way through the Irish name book {Mary Katherine, Kelly Frances, and so on} until all six were birthed and baptised accordingly.

In past years, the Clarks have gathered in a wing of the Waldorf Astoria with Grandfather Clark {aka, Big Al} presiding over the bar, and opened their doors for friends one and all to join their festivities. After a few holiday cocktails, we would ensemble on foot to one of the city's fine steak houses and animate three or four table with raucous Irish cheer. On one such occasion, I found myself at the infamous Sparks, and as I followed my hosts through a doorway made narrow by rows of Paddys, I heard a priest call out every Clark by name, blessing us each in the sign of the cross as we crossed his path.

The Brothers Clark Recession Reception, in their post-collegiately appointed east midtown apartment, was a different variety of family fun {no 22-ounce steaks, creamed spinach or mashed poetaytoes, as ordered by the family patriarch; no blessings from the family priest} marking our time and age as our own. But as any clever hosts knows, when one is serving merriment with whit and charm, one needn't pomp and circumstance.

Slàinte!

Great Expectations

chelsea, new york

Tonight when I was leaving Chelsea Market on my way home from work, I spied this young man behind the glass at Dickson's Farmstand Meats carrying a giant roast beef with such a Flinstones meets Dickens quality about it that it stopped me dead in my tracks. Just as he hoisted it up on his shoulder, I popped my head in for a butchery tutorial and learned that this cut, made of a whole hind leg of a cow, is called a steamship round.

From the quick snap I shot, you can't really grasp its girth or why its name is so befitting, but its presence demanded my attention. The gents responsible for this fine butchery were happy to tell me how this cut goes from slaughterhouse to supper table by way of their smoker. When I asked exactly what it would cost me to have this as the centerpiece at my holiday party, they started calculating.

"There is the per pound rate, plus shrinkage, plus the magic that happens in the smoker...roughly $500.

It's not every day you can get magic by the pound at the butcher shop, crafted by noble artisans none-the-less, so it seems like a fair price. But for those of us whose budget is more Bob Crachit than Ebenezer Scrooge, they are slicing it up as roast beef and selling it by the pound all week in their shop. Just in time for a old Fezziwig's Christmas Feast.

Serve it Forth

I’ve long admired the silver collection of one of my dearest girlfriends, Frances, a mix of family heirlooms and flea market finds from her travels as a style editor. I love the way she displays them upright in glasses in her boudoir, and how willingly she creates excuses to pull them out and serve forth a dose of her fine southern hospitality. I credit Frances’ civilized upbringing, one that I esteem with admiration and she with good humor, for her entertaining aplomb, and I’ve come to regard her fine collection of silver as synonymous with being a lady.

I began my own collection in earnest when I lived in St. Tropez several years ago, where I spent summers as a private chef. There, I discovered a flea market 20 minutes outside of town, and planned my days off around its arrival. From my elegant employer, I learned how to tell real silver from silver plate, how many francs I should expect to pay, and how to set a fine table with the curious pieces I was slowly acquiring.

I brought my petit collection home to New York, but the fine table, or space for one in a city apartment, would have to wait.

Just before my wedding last year, my mother brought out my grandmother’s worn wooden silver chest and placed it in front of me, her gift to me. Together we pulled out a collection of mismatched pieces, tucked carefully inside hand-stitched silver cloth, and went through them one by one. Each piece was more elegant than the last. Mom told me what she knew about each one, the pieces that had survived a tornado on her grandmother’s farm in Iowa, those that had come over from Germany, the ones that must have come from my grandfather’s side, marked with a P. In them I found history, a connection to a great-grandmother I never met and to a voyage across a sea to a new land in pursuit of hopes and dreams that far predate my own. Finally, I had the silver collection {and the inherent lady-likeness} I’d been pining for.

Over the last year, I’ve plated dinner for four and served brunch to friends with silver spoons in the tiny studio I share with András, but there is no space for formal feasts, much less on a table set with our finest. So on Thanksgiving, when our friend and hostess Kirsten asked if I had any serving spoons and forks I could bring along, I was thrilled to wrap up my collection and tote them over with our cranberry relish, walnut breads and pumpkin pies.

Yesterday at Thanksgiving, my silver collection made their big debut at someone else’s table, and as I listened to the comforting clinks of forks and spoons, I couldn’t have been more proud that they were part of a meal designed to celebrate gratitude to what he have, and even what we don’t have {in my case, that sprawling apartment with a dining room table}. It was a meal to be remembered for many years to come.

Let's Talk Turkey

I'm not exactly sure when my baby brother's culinary prowess surpassed my own, but moments ago on the phone with him, it became clear that it might have happened. He, the analyst bachelor, has his turkey day game plan firmly in place {Wednesday night, grind cranberries for relish; brine turkey. Thursday, up at dawn to stuff turkey and roast..} while I, the family food guru, haven't decided what we're having for breakfast tomorrow, much less for a meal that's still two days away.

Thanksgiving, by most serious cook's standards, has already begun. There are pies crusts to roll, breads to bake, birds to brine. And believe me, I love these things, I just can't seem get my feather's ruffled about a meal that I've already had twice this year. I've heard it called practice thanksgiving, {an intriguing concept, where friends gather to "practice" what they are making for thanksgiving on each other--what fun!}. So you could say that my friends at the Food Network Magazine and I were practicing Thanksgiving the entire month of July, carefully crafting our recipes for our Turkey Spreads {mine is the Turkey for Small Gatherings, on p. 151}, making 50 versions of mashed potatoes, and perfecting our centerpiece dessert. I practiced again on camera a couple of weeks ago on Good Morning America Health, and later devoured our mini feast in true turkey day fashion.

Still, ten minutes on Facebook tonight told me too many people have not been practicing enough, and may need just a little help. Luckily, those recipes we mastered months ago are right at my finger tips, and right at yours too, should you still be in the market for ideas. Here's the gameplan {click through for recipes}:

The Turkey:

For Grown Ups: Turkey with Glazed Chestnuts, Parsnips, and Mushrooms; A Please-All for a Crowd: Roast Turkey with Gravy

The Sides:

The Mashed Potatoes {50 versions!}; The cranberry relish

The Sweets:

Meyer Lemon Cranberry Bundt Cake, Spiced Apple & Pear Pie, Deep Dish Plum & Almond Pie

The Leftovers:

Sweet Potato Day After Dip