OK, so now I am asking for your trust.  Trust me – those are not fingerling potatoes on the pizza – it is poorly melted smoked mozzarella – I bought the wrong kind.

Trust me – eggs are good on pizza.

Trust me – this combination of leeks, smoked mozzarella, and egg is magical.

Trust me – it may not be beautiful but it is tasty.

Last Thursday, as I was getting excited for night out with three of my lovely friends to a new super hot pizza joint, I got a message from Spencer’s teachers at preschool.  He was running a fever and I needed to come pick him up.  He was sleeping when I called back (a red flag – he never sleeps at preschool), but when I went to get him an hour later, I was shocked.  With kids running all over the room, chasing each other, doing art projects, eating snacks, my (not so) little baby was lying in the middle of the floor on a mat just staring off into space.  I dropped to my knees next to him and could feel the heat radiating off his body.

He let me carry him to the car (another red flag) and when we got home he was shaking so badly that he could not hold the little cup of Tylenol steady enough to put it to his lips.  Absolutely heartbreaking.  But that Tylenol is a wonder drug and after he was able to take it, with the help of an oral syringe, he seemed much better.

But not better enough to go to Cub Scouts with Graham and Randy that night and so, I had to email my friends and ask that they either go without me or come keep me and the patient company.  A flurry of emails when through the ether – yes, they would come over!  Yes, we could make our own pizza!  Yes, I have salad stuff!  Yes, I’ll bring what I have!  It is a great thing to have friends who are great cooks and like to eat.

So, we made our own pizza and salad to which we each contributed various things.  I had one hunk of dough, slow-roasted tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, and some leeks I had sautéed to silky.  Others contributed salad makings, another hunk of dough, a knob of smoked mozzarella, eggs, and wine.  What a great way to cook!  Coming together as a community and offering up yummy things.

So we made two pizzas and the standout, by far, was the one I drizzled with olive oil, then topped with a healthy mound of the leeks, thin slices of smoked mozarella, and – after it had been in the oven for a few minutes, two farm fresh eggs.  I can’t take full credit for the pizza, we all contributed.  And we all really loved it.

I  loved it enough to make it again a few nights later.  Even with the wrong mozzarella, it was really tasty.  I loved the contrast in flavors and textures.  Crisp savory crust (salting it is key), soft sweet leeks, smoky melty cheese, and a runny egg.  So good!  Unless you want want your cheese to not melt and to look like fingerling potatoes (which are delicious on pizza by the way – another pizza post for another time), do not buy the mozzarella that is braided and very firm.  Buy one that is cryovaced and soft and with some copper colored markings.

Pizza with Silky Leeks, Smoked Mozzarella, and Eggs
Dana Treat Original (with assistance)
Makes one medium size pizza, serves 3-4

I made this pizza with approximately one half of the recipe of my favorite pizza dough.  I put the other half in a ziploc bag and into the freezer.  The night before I wanted to use it again, I took it out and let it thaw in the refrigerator, then took it out and let it rise at room temperature for about an hour before using it.

Olive oil
4 large leeks
Kosher or sea salt
Freshly ground pepper
2 tbsp. fresh thyme leaves
6 oz. smoked mozzarella, very thinly sliced
2 large eggs
½ of Mark Bittman’s pizza dough

Place a pizza stone in the oven and turn the heat as high as it will go.

While the dough is rising for the second time and the oven is heating, place a very large skillet over medium heat.  Drizzle in just enough olive oil to coat the bottom and then add the leeks with a large pinch of salt.  They will be very crowded in the pan but will wilt down so don’t worry.  Give the leeks a few good stirs and then add the thyme leaves.  Turn the heat down to medium-low and let them cook, stirring occasionally, until they are silky soft and wilted, about 25 minutes total.  If at any time they seem to be browning, turn the heat down lower.  If necessary, add a bit of water to keep them from browning.  (Browned onions are good, browned leeks are not.)  Once they are really soft, if there is quite a bit of liquid in the pan, turn the heat back up to medium and cook until most of the liquid has evaporated.  Seasons to taste with salt and pepper and set aside.

Sprinkle cornmeal on a pizza peel and stretch the dough out to your desired shape.  Place the dough on the prepared peel and drizzle the surface with about 2 tablespoons of olive oil.  Sprinkle about 1 teaspoon of salt over the top.  Mound the leeks on the dough leaving a small border around the edge and top with the thin slices of smoked mozzarella.  Slide the pizza off the peel and onto the baking stone.  Bake for 5 minutes.

Crack the eggs into a small ramekin.  At the end of 5 minutes, slide the oven rack with the stone on it out enough to put the eggs on the pizza.  Be very careful because everything is super hot at this point.  Put one egg on one part of the pizza and the other on another part.  Push the rack back in and cook for another 4-5 minutes, until the crust is brown and the eggs are set.  (If you want your eggs runnier, you can add them later in the process.)

Slice and serve.

At the ages of seven and almost five, my children often say funny things.  Long ago a friend recommended that I write down their cute little sayings, insisting that I wouldn’t remember.  It was one of those ideas that made perfect sense at the time and yet is something that I just never did.  And, although I thought I could rely on my very good memory, I don’t remember all the cute little things they have said over the years.  The only ones I remember are those I wrote down on this blog, captured either with my phone or the flip camera, or the ones I told so many times that they are burned into my memory.

Last night, Graham said, “I have a good idea. If people want to eat your yummy food, we could open a window in our house, just like Taco Time!”

And now for some clarification.  First of all, Taco Time is not Taco Bell.  It is a locally owned fast food-ish place where the emphasis is on fresh.  I haven’t eaten at Taco Bell since my early 20′s but I don’t mind Taco Time.  Second of all, I’m not a drive-thru kind of person but last summer our beloved babysitter took them through there and on to the park where they had a picnic.  They are still talking about it six months later.  Third of all, when Graham was the praises of my food, he was not talking about this Two Potato Vindaloo.  He was talking about a taco (sense a theme?) that I made him with black beans, cheese, homemade salsa and guacamole.

So no, we are not quite at the point where I feed my children Two Potato Vindaloo although I think that Graham, my hearty and relatively adventurous eater, would probably have liked it.  I have, oh, about one ton of leftovers in the refrigerator so maybe we will give it a try tonight.  I know that Spencer would not touch it.  But I bet, if I opened a take-out window in my house (a friend on Facebook called it the Dana Treat Drive Thru), I would sell out of this dish.

This recipe comes from the beloved Plenty cookbook.  I swear this book has magic powers.  I feel like each time I open it, there are delicious things in there that I have never seen, never noticed.  This recipe, starring both red potatoes and sweet potatoes, I always notice and the only reason I haven’t made it until now is that I don’t always have fresh curry leaves on hand.  You could, of course, leave them out, but I dearly love curry leaves and just the scent of them as they hit the pan reminds of me the year we lived in London and all the amazing Indian food I ate there.

I made a few changes, streamlined the cooking time.  Ground spices instead of toasting whole ones and then grinding them.  Canned tomatoes instead of fresh (have you seen “fresh” tomatoes in Seattle these days?  Yuck.)  I have the British version of the book so I always tweak the recipes a bit with the measurements and all.  Having made so many delicious things from this book, I have learned to trust Mr. Ottolenghi’s taste.  I hesitated at the amount of vinegar in this dish but the acidity cut through the any heaviness that curries can sometimes have and also helped boost the flavor of the spices.  I’m telling you, that man is a genius.  The only other thing I can add is that, unless you are vegan, definitely add a dollop of plain yogurt to your bowl.  More acidity and some creaminess are most welcome in this curry.

One Year Ago:  Gingerbread with Maple Cream Cheese Frosting
Two Years Ago:  Black Bean Chilaquile
Three Years Ago:  Milk Chocolate Frosted Layer Cake

Two Potato Vindaloo
Adapted from Plenty
Serves 6-8

Unless you live near an Indian grocery, fresh curry leaves can be hard to find.  If you do use them, they are totally edible.  I like the way they taste but you can also pick them out like bay leaves.  I know some people substitute bay leaves for curry leaves (I haven’t tried it – the flavors are not the same), but if you do I would only use four of them and be sure to pick them out before serving.  Don’t worry if you don’t have fenugreek seeds – just leave them out.

½ tsp. ground cardamom
1 tsp. ground cumin
1 tsp. ground coriander
½ tsp. ground tumeric
1 tsp. paprika
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
2 tbsp. vegetable oil (I used coconut oil)
6 large shallots, peeled and finely chopped
½ tsp. mustard seeds
½ tsp. fenugreek seeds
Kosher salt
12 large or 24 small curry leaves
2 tbsp. finely chopped fresh ginger
1 fresh red chile, seeded and finely chopped
1 14-ouce can diced tomatoes
3 tbsp. apple cider vinegar
2 cups water
1 tbsp. sugar
1 pound red potatoes, cut into 1-inch chunks
1 large red bell pepper, cut into 1-inch chunks
1 large sweet potato, cut into 1-inch chunks
Mint and/or cilantro to garnish

In a small bowl, combine all the spices except the mustard seeds and fenugreek seeds.  Set aside.

Place a large heavy based pot over medium heat.  Add the vegetable oil along with the shallots, mustard seeds, fenugreek seeds, and a large pinch of salt.  Sauté for about 8 minutes, or until the shallots brown.  (You might want to have a lid handy in case the mustard seeds start to pop.)  Stir in the spice mix, curry leaves, ginger, and chile, and cook for a further 3 minutes.  Add the tomatoes (with their juice), vinegar, water, sugar, and another pinch of salt.  Bring to a boil, then leave to simmer, covered for 10 minutes.

Add the potatoes and red peppers and simmer for another 20 minutes.  For the last stage, add the sweet potatoes.  Make sure all the vegetables are just immersed in the sauce (add more water if needed) and continue cooking, covered, for about 20 more minutes, or until the potatoes are tender.

Remove the lid and leave to bubble away for about 10 minutes to reduce and thicken the sauce.  Serve hot with plain rice and garnished with herbs.  Serve yogurt for garnishing at the table.

Randy and I used to get Thai food almost every Friday night for dinner.  Or at least every Friday night that wasn’t a date night.  It was our wind-down from a long week, a break from cooking for me, and something we both enjoyed.  Seattle has great Thai food and there are five or six places nearby that we like.  After a few years of this tradition, I started to feel like the food tasted great but I could just see how unhealthy it was.  The oil slick in the bottom of the noodles dish, the coating on my tongue from the curry.  Tasty but not healthy.  And so, we opted for other food on Friday nights, namely my cooking.

Earlier this week, Graham had surgery for a hernia.  It sounds bad but the truth is that children recover surprisingly quickly from this type of surgery.  He has had one other operation, an umbilical hernia repair.  This was an operation to repair his belly button which was sticking out more than normal – really a cosmetic procedure.  So now, at the grand old age of seven, he has had the same number of surgeries as his 41-year old mother.  (I’ve had 2 c-sections.)

Because the doctors and nurses were so blasé about the surgery and how quickly it would be over and how well he would do, I planned to make dinner.  But of course they did not start on time and the operation took an hour instead of a half, and they kept him in recovery longer because he was having pain.  (The recovery room nurse asked him how he was feeling and he said, “I would feel better if my penis didn’t hurt so much.”)  I got to go back in the OR with him to hold his hand while they put him under with strawberry scented gas and watching his little eyes flutter closed broke my heart.  It became clear, on the eventual drive home, that take-out was our dinner option.  It had been so long since our last Thai dinner that I thought it sounded good.  And it was good.  But after a few bites, I remembered why we stopped our regular practice.  I carefully picked my noodles out of the slick and decided that this was a once in a while treat.

I love those flavors and I love that food, but I don’t love the grease or the stomach ache I often get after eating it.  I have an ever rotating line up of Asian noodle dishes that I love and I’m happy to add this Heidi Swanson recipe to the roster.  Normally I use rice noodles but I appreciated a bit more heft from the wheat based udon noodles in this dish and the sauce was drinkable.  Seriously.  I tweaked a bit.  I added cilantro to the cooked sauce, I sautéed the shallots to almost burnt for the garnish because I don’t like members of the onion family to be raw.  I added a bit less liquid and then second-guessed myself.  All the things you do with a good recipe to make it more to your taste.  Delicious.

 One Year Ago:  Hearty Beans and Rice and Butternut Squash and Cashew Curry
Two Years Ago:  EggNog Pound Cake with Crystal Rum Glaze and Chickpea, Lentil, and Vegetable Stew
Three Years Ago:  Penne with Greek-Style Vegetable Marinade

Big Curry Noodle Pot
Adapted from Super Natural Cooking
Serves 3-4

2 tbsp. coconut oil or vegetable oil, divided
2 medium shallots, sliced into thin rings
Kosher salt
8 ounces dried Asian style wide noodles, such as udon
1 onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 tsp. Thai red curry paste
12 ounces extra-firm tofu, cut into thumb-sized slices
1 14-ounce can coconut milk
1½ cups water
2 tsp. ground tumeric
2 tbsp. shoyu sauce, or other soy sauce
1 tbsp. light brown sugar
Juice of 1 lime
¼ cup peanuts, chopped
½ cup cilantro leaves, chopped, divided

Place a large saucepan over medium-high heat.  Add 1 tablespoon of the coconut or vegetable oil, then add the shallots.  Allow to cook undisturbed until golden brown on the underside, about 3 minutes.  Flip over and cook for another 1-2 minutes, until very brown.  Tip out onto a paper towel lined plate and season with salt.  Set aside.

Return saucepan to the burner and reduce heat to medium.  Add the other tablespoon of oil and then add the onions.  Cook for five minutes, then add the garlic and red curry paste.  Mash the paste around in the pan to distribute it evenly.  Cook until nice and fragrant, just a minute or two.  Add the tofu and gently stir until coated with the curry paste.  Stir in the coconut milk, water, tumeric, soy sauce, and sugar, bring to a simmer, and simmer gently until the sauce gets nice and thick, about 20 minutes.  Stir in half the cilantro leaves and the lime juice.

Meanwhile, cook the noodles in plenty of salted water according to the package directions.  When they are just shy of done, use tongs to transfer them directly to the saucepan with the curry sauce.  Stir in the lime juice.  To serve, heap big piles of noodles into individual bowls and top with a generous ladle of the sauce.  Top with peanuts, shallots and the remaining cilantro.

How do you feel about cilantro?  If you think about it, it’s a fascinating herb.  You will find it in many culture’s food that is quite different from one another.  Indian, Mexican, and Southeast Asian cooking, for example.  Being a huge fan of Indian, Mexican, and Southeast Asian food, I can’t imagine my life without cilantro.  It is probably the herb I use most in my cooking, with the possible exception of thyme, and that is because I have thyme growing at the bottom of the stairs to my house.

I understand that some people don’t like cilantro.  And by not liking it, I mean they have a true aversion to it.  I had a doctor in one of my Thai cooking classes and she said that is indeed true that some people carry a gene that makes cilantro taste like soap.  So if you carry that gene, my apologies and seeing as this recipe has an entire bunch of cilantro in it, this dish is not for you.  Sorry.

This is a favorite dish from Jack Bishop’s A Year in a Vegetarian Kitchen.  It is one of those recipes that takes next to no time and yet produces a seriously tasty result.  You start an onion sautéing on the stove, whir together some tomatillos, jalapeños, oregano, and a lot of cilantro in a blender, mix it all together with some hominy, and let it cook for about 15 minutes.  While it cooks, you thinly slice some romaine lettuce, radishes, quarter some cherry tomatoes, and cube some avocado.  Ladle the hominy mixture in a bowl, top it with the fresh stuff, and dinner is served.  Randy and I like heat so I seeded one of the jalapeños and left the seeds and membranes in the other one.  It was perfect for us but if you are unsure – go ahead and seed both of them.

Finally, just to answer some questions about hominy.  Hominy is a type of corn but it is much starchier and larger than the corn kernels that we know and love.  Its texture and size is necessary here – regular corn would make this a rather anemic stew.  I found mine in canned vegetable aisle near the corn.  White or yellow works.

One Year Ago:  Brown Rice Bowl with Soy Sauce Marinated Tofu and a Fried Egg
Three Years Ago:  Potato Fennel Gratin

Posole Verde
Adapted from A Year in a Vegetarian Kitchen
Serves 4

My only word of warning is that the cilantro mixture, which is vibrantly green in the blender, will turn a mossy shade of green as it cooks.  Do not be alarmed, the vegetable mixture on top is nice and colorful.

1 bunch coarsely chopped cilantro stems and leaves (about 2½ cups)
¼ cup fresh oregano leaves
6 ounces tomatillos, husked, washed, and halved
2 medium jalapeños, stemmed and seeded
2½ cups water
Canola oil
1 large onion, chopped
4 medium garlic cloves, minced
2 15-ounce cans white or yellow hominy, rinsed and drained
Sea salt

Garnishes
1 medium head romaine lettuce, thinly sliced crosswise
Handful cherry tomatoes, quartered
4 medium radishes, thinly sliced
1 small avocado, diced
Flour or corn tortillas, warmed

Place the cilantro, oregano, tomatillos, chiles, and 1 cup of the water in a blender and purée, scraping down the sides of the jar as necessary, until smooth, about 1 minute.

Place a sauté pan over medium heat.  Drizzle in just enough canola oil to coat the bottom then add the onion along with a large pinch of salt.  Cook until golden, about 6 minutes.  Add the garlic and cook until fragrant, another minute or so.  Add the cilantro mixture, hominy, remaining 1½ cups water, and bring to a boil.  Reduce the heat and simmer to blend the flavors, about 15 minutes.  Adjust the seasoning, adding salt to taste.

Ladle the posole into bowls and serve immediately, passing the lettuce, tomatoes, radishes, avocado, and tortillas at the table.

So, how was it?  Thanksgiving, I mean.  And if you are in a country other than the U.S., how was your Thursday?  Our feast was lovely.  We had a much smaller group than in years past – just our core group and both Randy and I decided that we like smaller better.  (With no offense to those out there who have joined us in years past.)  Aside from the turkey, the food at Thanksgiving doesn’t stress me out.  The dishes are all fairly simple and when you do a lot of dinner parties, as we do, you get good at making lots of food for lots of people.  It is the all-the-food-coming-out-of-the-oven and every-sitting-down-at-once part that is stressful.  But when you only have one table full of people, as opposed to the two we had last year, it all comes together quite nicely.

If I was a turkey eater, I would most likely still be posting some kind of turkey soup or, who know, turkey lasagne during this weekend after Thanksgiving.  Can I say a word about turkey?  If I were ever to go back to eating meat, turkey is probably the last thing that I would add in to my diet.  I would eat a hamburger before I would eat turkey – I’d probably eat a geoduck before I ate turkey.  The guys in our group smoke cigars after the big meal, a tradition that goes way back, and I prefer the lingering smell of stale cigar smoke in my house to the smell of turkey.  So, suffice it to say, this is not turkey soup.  It actually has nothing to do with Thanksgiving and, if you read a lot of food blogs and have been inundated with Thanksgiving posts, you are probably glad to know that.

This is a simple weeknight curry.  I have been craving curry lately and I thought about doing an Indian feast using my Rasa books, but just a stroll through the table of contents made my eyes flutter in exhaustion.  The recipes in my books are not difficult but decisions and pairings had to be made and some days, that is too much to ask of me.  So I went a simpler route.

Weeknight curry can cure a lot of dinner ills in this world.  It is easy, it is adaptable, it is inexpensive, and it can feed many.  It is also satisfying and tasty and filling and doesn’t need much else beyond rice to make a full meal.  I have made this recipe many times and while I still buy the main ingredients (potatoes, sweet potatoes, cabbage), I now tailor it more to what I have in the house and the amount and type of spice that I am accustomed to.  I never make it the same way twice and I encourage you to add and subtract based on what you have already and what you like.

One Year Ago:  Burnt Sugar Bundt Cake
Three Years Ago:  Breton Apple Pie

Potato and Vegetable Curry
Adapted from Simple Vegetarian Pleasures
Serves 4

Olive oil
1 onion, diced
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 1-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and minced
2 tsp. curry powder
1 tsp. cumin
1 tsp. coriander
1 cinnamon stick
Pinch of cayenne
1 15-0unce can diced tomatoes, drained
4 medium red-skinned potatoes, cut into ½-inch pieces
1 large sweet potato, cut into ½-inch pieces
½ a head green cabbage, cored, cut in half lengthwise, and thinly sliced
1 15-ounce can “lite” coconut milk
1 cup frozen peas
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Cilantro leaves, for garnish (optional)

Place a large skillet over medium heat.  Drizzle in just enough olive oil to coat the bottom of the pan, then add the onions and a large pinch of salt.  Cook, stirring often, for 5 minutes.  Add the garlic and ginger and cook for another two minutes.  Add the spices and cook for another minute, stirring constantly.

Stir in the tomatoes, followed by the potatoes, sweet potatoes, and cabbage.  Allow to cook for several minutes, then pour in the coconut milk.  Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat so the curry simmers, then cover the pan.  Cook about 20 minutes, or until the vegetables are tender.  Stir in the peas and cook for another few minutes, or until the peas are hot throughout.  Remove the cinnamnon stick and serve with basmati rice.

Hi.  It’s nice to be back here again.  Talking about food.  Including a recipe.  Thanks for your patience.  I misplaced my blogging mojo but I seem to have found it again.  Phew.  Now please pardon me while I jump up on my high horse for a moment.

The title of this post is one of the things I hate hearing most when it comes to vegetarian food.  “You won’t miss the meat!”  I see it in print, I hear it come out of chefs’ mouths and it makes me crazy.  I will say it to anyone who asks, I say it in my classes, and I’ve said it here, but the way to approach a switch to the vegetarian diet or even a vegetarian meal is not about substituting.  You can’t take a plate with a steak, baked potato, and green beans, and then just swap out the steak for tofu.  The vegetarian diet requires a shift in thinking – no longer being so hung up on protein and envisioning your plate differently.

For the people who embrace this philosophy, our way of eating can be exhilarating.  So many choices!  So much delicious food!  New cuisines!  But the bulk of our country, even though the message is coming through louder and clearer that we need to reduce our meat intake for a variety of reasons, still sees vegetarian food as boring or needs to find a way to substitute for the lack of meat.  There are all  kinds of fake meat out there and people are choking it down hoping it will taste like what they really want to eat, or it will give them the protein they are terrified they won’t get if they don’t have meat.  And here is where I must remind you that I am not trying to convert anyone.  As I always say, my own husband eats meat.  I just want to help people find their way to a delicious dinner (and breakfast, lunch and a treat).

Thud.  That was me sliding off my high horse.  Now, I don’t use a lot of fake meat.  Why?  Because I never liked meat.  I haven’t had it in 25 years.  Meat’s flavor and texture is not something I am trying to replace in my food.  This is a reason that I never have in the past, and never will in the future buy a Tofurkey.  But sometimes you pause.  I’ve been a bit obsessed with making orecchiete with broccoli rabe and sausage recently.  Maybe this is my body’s cry for protein.  Who knows.  But, of course, I have been unable to find broccoli rabe when I need it.  So I persevered and bought something I never had before – Field Roast Italian Sausages – and kept it really simple.

Good canned tomatoes simmered down with some onion and garlic, sliced rounds of sausage (without their plastic casings) sautéed in a pan, ear-shaped noodles in salty water boiled away, and mozzarella cheese grated.  A heavy foil-covered pan went into the oven and 30 minutes later we had a hearty and tasty dinner.  It’s good to be back here.  Thanks again for all the support.

(Because I haven’t posted a recipe in a while, there is a big backlog of what I was writing about one, two, and three years ago.  I will pick my favorites and highlight them in a separate post today or tomorrow.)

Baked Orecchiete with (Veg) Sausage and Tomato Basil Sauce
Dana Treat Original
Serves 6-8

Field roast is sold in links of 4, I only used 3 of them in this dish.  I’ve also made this same dish with a more penne shaped pasta and it worked great as well.  A 28-ounce can of tomatoes will be enough sauce for this dish but it is a bit dry.  If you like your pasta saucier, add another 14-ounce can.  Finally, you may wonder why I would suggest you buy canned whole tomatoes and then purée them rather than just buy puréed tomatoes.  I once read that the lesser quality tomatoes end up in diced and puréed cans because you can’t see their imperfections.  For this reason, this article said, it’s best to buy the whole ones, so that is what I do.

Olive oil
1 small onion, diced
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 tsp. dried basil
½ tsp. dried oregano
28-ounce can whole tomatoes
3 links Field Roast vegetarian sausage, Italian style
1 pound orecchiete pasta
2 cups mozzarella cheese, grated, divided
½ cup fresh basil leaves, slivered, plus extra whole leaves for garnish
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 375ºF.  Have a 9×13-inch baking dish handy.

Place a medium saucepan over medium heat.  Drizzle in just enough olive oil to coat the bottom, then add the onion and a large pinch of salt.  Stir and allow to cook until starting to soften, about 5 minutes.  Add the garlic and the dried herbs.  Cook for another 3 minutes.  Meanwhile purée the tomatoes.  If you have an immersion blender, you can stick the wand directly into the can – just be careful.  Otherwise, pour the can into a blender and blend until smooth.  (If you want to do neither of those things, you can crush the tomatoes with your hands as you add them to the pot, the sauce will be chunkier.)  Carefully pour the tomatoes into the saucepan (they will splatter), give the sauce a good stir, and turn the heat down to medium low.  Allow to simmer for 25 minutes, stirring occasionally, until thickened.  Set aside.

Heat a medium non-stick sauté pan over medium heat.  Add the slices of sausage and allow to cook, turning occasionally, until the slices are browned.  Set aside.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil.  Pour in the pasta and allow to cook until just shy of al dente.  (The pasta will continue to cook once it goes in the oven, so be sure to undercook it a bit.)  Drain well and return to the pot.  Pour in the sauce and toss to coat well.  Stir in the sausage and the basil.  Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Spoon half of the pasta into the dish.  Sprinkle on half the mozzarella.  Spoon the other half of of the pasta and top with the remaining cheese.  Cover the dish with foil and place in the oven.  Bake for 25 minutes, remove the foil and bake for another five minutes.  Allow to sit for five minutes or so before serving.

When I was a little girl, my favorite colors were pink, purple, and red.  In that order.  Tomboy I was not.  I wasn’t overly froufy but I did love to wear dresses and pretend jewelry, I begged my mom to let me get my ears pierced when I was six (she let me), and I could not wait until the day when I could wear makeup.

In seventh grade, I changed schools and it was suddenly not cool at all to wear dresses or skirts.  Jeans only and those jeans had to be Levi 501′s – the kind that you bought indigo blue and stiff as a board, and had to wash a million times to get them to look cool at all.  I pretended, in those years, that I liked wearing jeans that were clearly cut for male bodies and that my favorite color was blue.  I got a blue ski jacket and painted my bedroom blue and all the while I missed pink.  And purple.  And red.  And dresses.

Somewhere along the line, in high school, I reclaimed myself and my girly ways.  I wore dresses again and became known for my love of purple because, at some point in those blue years, purple overcame pink as my true favorite.

The only way this ties back to food is beans.  This is the time of year when school starts and when I start seeing fresh shelling beans at the markets.  Do these cranberries beans look like something found nature?  Or something that might be found, say, in my closet.  Or something that my kids would color for me because they are now aware of the concept of having a favorite color and they know what mine is.   I gathered all the ingredients for a stew at my farmers’ market and it all is so beautiful, is it not?

Sometimes cooking is just assembling really great ingredients and doing just a bit to bring out their flavors.  When you are using peak of the season produce, it’s easy to make something delicious.  This is not to say that this stew makes itself.  I took the time to roast the squash because I like it best that way but you could certainly just add it raw along with the potatoes to save yourself a step and a baking sheet to wash.  You also need to cook the beans separately but seeing as these are fresh, it only takes a half hour or so.  At my markets, you will often see the beans pre-shelled for you.  It is nice that someone did the dirty work for you and I used to buy them that way.  But the truth is that the beans in the pods are much fresher, they are cheaper, and shelling them is even easier to do than shelling peas.

One Year Ago:  Braised Purple Cabbage with Apples, Pecan Molasses Bundt Cake with Bourbon Glaze
Two Years Ago:  Carrot Soup with Ginger and Lemon, Soba Noodles with Mushrooms and Bok Choy, Holly B’s Peanut Butter Brownies
Three Years Ago:  Dimply Plum Cake

Cranberry Bean Stew with Maple Roasted Delicata Squash and Sage
Dana Treat Original
Serves 4

1½ pounds delicata squash, cut in half, seeded, and cut into ¾-inch chunks
Olive oil
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 tbsp. maple syrup
1 cup fresh shelling beans
1 medium red onion, diced
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 tsp. fresh thyme leaves
1 pound new potatoes, cut into 1-inch chunks
½ cup dry white wine
1 red bell pepper, seeded, diced
2 cups vegetable broth
½ bunch Swiss chard, leaves only, chopped
4 sage leaves, slivered, for garnish

Preheat the oven to 400ºF.  Place the squash chunks on a baking sheet and drizzle with about 2 tablespoons olive oil, a large pinch of salt, a few grinds of pepper, and the maple syrup.  Using your hands, toss well.  Place in the oven for 10 minutes.  Remove and flip the pieces over, return to the oven and bake for another 10 minutes, or until completely tender and browning in spots.  Remove and set aside.

Bring a medium saucepan of water to a boil.  Pour in the beans and cook, keeping the water at a mellow boil, until the beans are tender but not mushy, about 25 minutes.  Drain and set aside.

Heat a large soup pot over medium heat.  Add just enough olive oil to coat the bottom and then add the onion along with a large pinch of salt.  Sauté until starting to soften, about 5 minutes, then add the garlic.  Give it a stir, then add the thyme leaves.  Stir in the potatoes and cook, stirring occasionally, until the potatoes are browned in spots, about 8 minutes.  Things will start to stick but don’t worry about it.

Pour in the wine and scrape up any browned bits on the bottom of the pot.  Stir in the red pepper.  Pour in the broth and bring to a boil, then lower the heat to a simmer and cover.  Cook until potatoes are just tender, about 10 minutes.  Remove the cover and add the squash and the beans.  Stir well, then add the chard.  Continue to cook, covered, stirring occasionally, until the stew is heated through, the chard has wilted slightly, and the potatoes are fully cooked, about another 10 minutes.  Season to taste with salt and pepper.  Serve in shallow bowls garnished with fresh sage leaf slivers.

OK, guess what?  I’m in the midst of a months- long pizza obsession.  I have nothing earth shattering to say about the obsession, just that it has taken a hold of me.  Quite simply, I crave pizza all the time.  This is not to say that I never craved it before but now the craving is near constant.  Having a simple and (in my opinion) perfect recipe for a crust and a grill just waiting to get heated up makes pizza a super simple and quick dinner in our household*.

My parents, New Yorkers both of them, used to lament the lack of good pizza in Seattle.  And truthfully, up until just a few years ago, it was embarrassing.  Now we have plenty of good pizza.  Not the giant New York slices that you fold in half and wipe the grease off your chin between bites, but pretty tasty nonetheless.  I love all of it.  But I have to say I’m partial to a thin and flavorful crust, a thin schmear of sauce, carefully placed vegetables, and not too much cheese.  That is if I’m ordering it in one of our many delicious pizza joints.

If I’m making it myself, I tend to get carried away by the toppings.  Can you call it pizza if it has no sauce and no mozzarella cheese?  I say yes.  My lovely and amazing friend Denise visited a couple of months ago with her partner Lenny, and she mentioned that their favorite pizza to make these days stars corn, cilantro, and blue cheese.  Yes please and thank you very much.  I’ve made their version a couple of times since corn season began for us Pacific North-westerners and this time I added some chantarelle mushrooms and some squash blossoms.  Why not?

*I would love to tell you that my children ate pizza with corn, chantarelle mushrooms, cilantro, squash blossoms, and blue cheese but alas, I try to set myself up for success here in my house.  I took about a third of the dough and made them their own pizza starring jarred tomato sauce and mozzarella and Parmesan cheeses.  Graham told me that he would like a vegetable pizza “with olives” next time.  Special requests aside, they ate the entire thing.  And put carrot sticks on top of each slice.  Carrot pizza!

I’m giving instructions on how to make this on the grill.  It’s super quick and you get that char that is hard to achieve in an oven.  If you don’t have a grill, place a pizza stone in your oven and heat it as high as it will go.  Your cooking time will be longer in an oven.

One Year Ago:  Moo Shu Tempeh (tastes much better than it sounds)
Two Years Ago:  Holly B’s Almond Butterhorns
Three Years Ago:  Roasted Peppers Stuffed with Chickpea Puree and Mushrooms

Pizza with Corn, Chantarelles, and Cilantro
Dana Treat Original
Serves 3-4

As always when I am making pizza, I will direct you to Mark Bittman’s recipe.  The dough is perfect in my opinion.  Last week, I had my parents over and I made a Margarita Pizza (I told you I’m obsessed!) and my dad said my crust was the best he’s ever tasted.  My New Yorker dad!

1 tbsp. unsalted butter
4 ounces chantarelle mushrooms (or any wild mushrooms), rinsed and allowed to air dry
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 tsp. fresh thyme leaves
1 large ear of corn, kernels stripped off
Olive oil
½ cup cilantro leaves
2 ounces blue cheese
3 zucchini blossoms, sliced in half
Cornmeal
1 recipe pizza dough

Head a medium skillet over medium-high heat.  Melt the butter and then add the mushrooms along with a pinch of salt.  Sauté, stirring often, until browned in spots, about 5 minutes.  Add the thyme, then add the corn and cook for another 2 minutes.  Season to taste with salt and pepper.  Remove from the heat and set aside.

Heat a grill to high.  Scatter a bit of cornmeal on a pizza peel (or the bottom of a baking sheet can work too).  Stretch the dough out to a nice thing circle, then place it on the peel.  Slide the dough onto the grill, close the lid, and let cook for4 minutes, or until the bottom is nice and golden brown with some grill marks.  Carefully coax it back onto the peel (tongs can be useful for this step).  If you are using an oven instead of a grill, just top the raw dough with the toppings – you won’t need to flip.

Turn the dough over and drizzle it with about 2 tablespoons of olive oil and sprinkle over a pinch of salt.  Add the toppings.  Scrape the mushroom/corn mixture over the top, scatter the cilantro leaves, crumble the blue cheese, and place the zucchini blossoms over the top.  Slide the pizza back on the grill, cover and cook for 2 minutes or until the cheese is melted and the visible dough is golden brown.  Slide back on the peel, let sit for a minute, then slice and serve.

Uh oh.  I think I may have waited a bit too long to share the recipe for this tart with you.  Feel that?  Smell that?

Fall.

September in Seattle actually means the end of summer produce-wise.  Those things that many of you get in July (squashes, tomatoes, corn, etc) we don’t really get until September.  I’ve said this before but as amazing as our markets are in the peak of summer – tables filled to every square inch with berries, peaches, peas, green beans – fall is the produce season that makes me swoon.  Heirloom tomatoes, corn, and summer squash sit right next to booths with winter squash, carrots, eggplants, and all manner of peppers.  For the next six weeks or so, I will be a very happy shopper.

This lovely tart was inspired by three things.  One, my new rectangular tart pan.  Two, a similar tart that Ashley made last summer in a class I attended.  Three, a crust from this book I keep yammering on about.  Ok, four – those gorgeous tomatoes that keep calling my name.  This is actually quite simple.  A cornmeal studded crust, soft goat cheese mixed with fresh basil, perfect tomatoes, salt.  Oh all right, I did use a secret weapon.

Rather than just drizzle the top with olive oil, I took a cue from Purple Citrus & Sweet Perfume and mixed together some pomegranate molasses, lemon juice, and olive oil.  I drizzled that simple but intoxicating mixture sparingly over the top and gave it a healthy sprinkle of sea salt.  You know how once in a while you take a perfect bite?  What is in your mouth is an ideal mix of texture and flavor?  This tart is full of those bites.  The cornmeal in the tart dough gives it a delightful crunch and a bit of sweetness – also, the crust has more heft which is a nice contrast for the creaminess of the goat cheese.  The tomatoes, of course, are the star but they are certainly helped along by the sour punch of the lemon and pomegranate molasses.  I hope you don’t have to wait until next year to give this a try.

One funny note.  I balanced the tart on the railing of our deck for these photos.  I am a bit vertically challenged and was having trouble getting enough distance from it to get a good photo.  I didn’t want to put it on the ground.  Randy, who is 9 inches taller than I am, offered to take a shot.  So here is the view from 6 feet.

One last piece of news!  My friend Jen and I are doing another yoga retreat together on October 1st.  These dates always sell out which is why I’ve never mentioned them beforehand.  This time, with the busy fall that we are all diving into head-first, there are a few spots.  Come join us on Bainbridge Island for the most amazing yoga day complete with lunch made by me.  Details are here.

One Year Ago:  Peach and Heirloom Tomato Salad
Two Years Ago:  Nutella Pound Cake (probably the most popular recipe on my site)

Heirloom Tomato Tart with Basil Goat Cheese and Cornmeal Crust
Dana Treat Original (inspired by many)
Serves 6-8

If you don’t have a 14 x 4-inch rectangular pan, this can also be made in a 9-inch round tart pan.  I also made mini tarts for a party and used colorful cherry tomatoes as the topping.  You will have left over pomegranate molasses mixture but it’s pretty great on just about any vegetable.

For the crust
1 1/3 cups flour
¼ cup yellow cornmeal
½ tsp. kosher salt
½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, cut into small pieces and chilled
1 large egg, beaten

For the tart
8 ounces soft goat cheese, such as Montrachet
2 tbsp. heavy cream
¼ cup (packed) basil leaves, sliced into thin ribbons, plus additional for garnish
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
6-8 (depending on size) heirloom tomatoes, mixture of colors
2 tbsp. pomegranate molasses
2 tbsp. lemon juice
6 tbsp. olive oil
Sea salt

Make the crust
Place the flour, cornmeal, and salt in the bowl of a food processor fitted with the metal blade.  Process until well combined.  Add the butter and pulse until the mixture resembles bread crumbs.  Add the egg and process until the mixture comes together.  Dump the dough out onto a lightly floured board and knead to bring it together into a cohesive mass.  Flatten into a rough rectangle, wrap in plastic wrap, and refrigerate for 2 hours.

Preheat the oven to 400ºF.  Roll the pastry out into rectangle about 1/8th of an inch thick.  Carefully transfer the dough to the pan.  This dough is very stiff and can be difficult to roll out without tearing and cracking.  You can also just press it into the pan with your fingers rather than rolling.  Trim any edges.  Prick all over the bottom with a fork and place the pan in the freezer for 10 minutes.  Remove from the freezer, line with parchment paper or foil, and pour in pie weights or dried beans.  Bake for 15 minutes.  Carefully remove the pie weights, return to the oven for 8-10 minutes, until the crust is a nice golden brown.  Cool completely.

Finish the tart
Place the goat cheese in a large bowl and mash roughly with a fork.  Add the cream and mix well to combine.  (The cream will make it, um, creamier, and will also help with the chalkiness that goat cheese tends to have.)  Gently mix in the basil.  Season with salt and pepper.  Scoop the goat cheese into the cooled crust and smooth it with a spatula.  Slice the tomatoes and layer them in decoratively.

Mix together the pomegranate molasses, lemon juice, and olive oil.  Drizzle the mixture over the top of the tart.  Sprinkle with a healthy pinch of your best sea salt and a few more ribbons of basil.

Randy and I have sort of a don’t ask/don’t tell approach to my cookbook collection.  As in, don’t ask me if I have bought any new ones lately and I don’t tell you.  Sometimes eyebrows are raised.  Sometimes mental measurements are taken on the diminishing space on the “overflow” shelf.  Sometimes heads shake.  As in, no, no, no, not another one.

But here is the thing.  I am kind of a girly girl.  I like to dress up and I like nice things.  I could very easily be collecting shoes or purses or expensive perfumes.  Instead I collect cookbooks.  Relatively inexpensive and something I use every day.  Whenever he starts to comment I remind him, oh so gently, that his life is greatly enriched by the fact that we are surrounded by so many wonderful books with so many wonderful recipes and so much of the wonderful food I make comes from these wonderful books.

Tonight our dinner came from one of my newest acquisitions – Purple Citrus & Sweet Perfume.  The book was written by the chef of an Eastern Mediterranean restaurant in London’s Mayfair neighborhood.  In bookstores, I pick up Mediterranean and Middle Eastern cookbooks all the time – those are the cuisines I miss most from our year in London and is difficult to find decent restaurants in Seattle.  Most of the books I peruse have too many meat dishes for me to buy them.  Although this book has a meat and poultry chapter, as well as one for fish, there are still so many tempting recipes for me to try in those pages.  And not just mezze.

I tell you this because the book happened to be sitting near us as we ate and Randy put down his fork (put down his fork!), picked up the book (picked up a cookbook!), and started reading through the recipes, voicing aloud the ones that sounded good to him (!!!).  In other words, this dish was that good.  If you know Randy, and if you read here often enough you probably feel like you do, unsolicited praise means a dish is out of sight.  Actually picking up a book and requesting dishes to be made out of it it is unheard of.

This pilaf is the third thing I have made out of the book (the soup I made last night is next up on the blog), and all have been incredible.  And in need of serious tweaking.  I’m not sure if this is the result of a restaurant chef writing a home cookbook or if something happened when the British measurements got transcribed into American ones, but if I didn’t know a thing or two about cooking, I probably would have thrown the book across the kitchen in frustration.  Of course, I am far from an expert about this kind of cuisine, but I do know that 1½ cups of rice and 3 ounces of pasta will need much more than 2 cups of liquid to turn out all right.

So, I’ve tweaked.  And I’m giving you the tweaked recipe.  I changed the proportions, I used spaghetti instead of vermicelli (angel hair is what I normally use but my little market up the street didn’t have it and what’s more, we both liked the thicker strands of pasta in there).  I added spice where there was none and some additional shallots.  This dish is probably meant to be a side dish along side some lamb or chicken.  We ate it as a main course alongside the previously mentioned soup and some perfect steamed green beans.  The author says it is street food, Turkish-style.  Both Randy and I say it is food we could eat everyday and be completely happy.

One Year Ago:  Vanilla Cake with Strawberry Cream Frosting
Two Years Ago:  Mixed Berry Spoon Cake

Pilaf with Vermicelli, Chickpeas, Apricots, and Pistachios
Adapted from Purple Citrus & Sweet Perfume
Serves 4-6

I have a large spice cabinet and I actually have something called Turkish spice mix, bought at a farmers’ market.  This dish needs something so, assuming you do not have Turkish spice, you can add pinches of cumin, coriander, even a bit of curry.  Fennel would be fine too.  And lots of black pepper. 

2 tbsp. unsalted butter
4 shallots, thinly sliced
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Pinch of saffron
2 tsp. Turkish spice mix
3 ounces vermicelli pasta (or angel hair or spaghetti), broken into 1-inch lengths
1½ cups Arborio rice
1 cup cooked chickpeas (I used canned)
½ cup chopped dried apricots
4 cups vegetable stock or water
½ cup coarsely chopped pistachios
Chopped parsley for garnish (optional)

Heat a large saucepan over medium heat.  Melt the butter, then add the shallots and a large pinch of salt.  Sauté, stirring frequently, until starting to turn golden, about 4 minutes.  Stir in saffron and the spices.  Add the vermicelli and stir continuously until the pasta starts to turn golden.  It burns easily so be careful.  Add the rice, chickpeas, and apricots and stir to coat the rice with the fat and the spices.  Pour in stock (or water) and bring to a boil.  Reduce to a simmer and cover with a lid.  Cook over low heat for 20 minutes.  Check for water a couple of times as you might need to add more.

When the rice is tender, add the pistachios and turn off the heat.  Cover the saucepan with a clean kitchen towel and replace the lid.  Let stand for 15 to 20 minutes – this will allow the the rice to cook further and become more fluffy.

One more thought:  My dish was not particularly fluffy.  I didn’t mind, it was stick to your ribs hearty which is nice for a main course.  Arborio rice, the one that was called for in this recipe and which is also used to make risotto, is starchy and heavier than a basmati.  I imagine that if you use basmati or jasmine, you will end up with a fluffier pilaf.  Let me know if you try?