Our pizza night growing up was rarely an affair catered by Pizza Hut or Dominos. We used to frequent a family-owned joint that most Northern Virginians are probably familiar with called Joes. We’d get take out from the Bailey’s Crossroads location, ordering doughy Sicilian pies with mounds of thinly-shaved toppings. Their crusty calzones hid pools of creamy ricotta, melty mozzarella and tender ham. They made the steak and cheese hero that I continue to judge all others against. And their hippie rolls, a sausage stromboli of sorts with a tasty touch of crushed red pepper, became the fodder for regular, late night food cravings. Pliant and chewy pizza dough held sweet roasted peppers and onions and a smidge of mozzarella cheese. My dad would order a couple and slice them into rings for everyone to snack on, and they rarely lasted long. Continue reading Hippie Roll
Potato Leek Soup
The lovely leek is a tricky little bugger. While its cousin, the onion, smells fragrant and marvelous immediately upon entering the pan filled with butter or olive oil, the leek can be downright funky. But the patient are always rewarded for their efforts, and the leeks become luscious and silken if you let them hang out and do their thing. Crown this glory with white truffle oil and breadcrumbs toasted with a little butter and you are in for a real treat. Continue reading Potato Leek Soup
Italian Sausage and Rice Soup
If I told you that this soup takes a mere 10 minutes to simmer for the taste of a soup labored over for a day (or two), would you brand me an infomercial? Because it’s true – every word of it. And it doesn’t come at the hands of any crazy Ron Popeil device, although you do pretty much “set it and forget it.” This baby is simmered to perfection in a pressure cooker, and for that great savings of time and effort and the steaming up of the household, I am eternally grateful. Continue reading Italian Sausage and Rice Soup
Dionysi’s Spinach and Cheese Pie
Not to put his business out there, but my husband is not a fan of spinach. Stubborn that I am, though, I try to work it into dishes to “convince” him that maybe, just maybe, there is requited love out there for him and the leafy greens. You see, I didn’t always adore spinach myself. When I was in preschool, I once had an abysmal lunch of macaroni and cheese (yum!) with canned spinach (ugh!). When I refused to eat my spinach, I was told that I couldn’t have any chocolate pudding for dessert. This was no matter in that I didn’t like chocolate (don’t really love it to this day unless it’s really, really good) – I pitched a fit and refused to eat the vile spinach. With that, I was whisked off to timeout and my hatred of spinach was sealed. Until…I decided to study Italian in high school before heading off across the pond for a school trip. As we learned the different food names in Italian, a group of us made a face at spinaci. “Oh no!” our professor assured us, “Fresh spinach sauteed with olive oil, garlic, salt and pepper is delicious! You must try it.” Try it, I did, and I never looked back – spinach and I were meant to be together. Continue reading Dionysi’s Spinach and Cheese Pie
Strawberry Frozen Yogurt
The legend has is (ha!) that the reason this recipe took so long to post is because my darling husband ate the entire first batch before I could photograph it. He gives an alternate version of the story, so who can you believe? Continue reading Strawberry Frozen Yogurt
Spring Has Sprung Feast
I’m definitely a sucker for cooking out of emotion – when the long winter subsides and the earth can’t help but start blooming, why wouldn’t I cook with the brightest ingredients celebrating the season. This feast was an impromptu Mother’s Day din din, but really, it could be a weekend supper or an early evening al fresco celebration. It’s light enough to evoke the feelings of spring, but comforting enough to feel like a big ol’ hug and a pair of pajama jeans. The best part about this particular menu is that is it can be prepared without too much work – just a whole lot of puttering around the kitchen with no real urgency at all. In fact, it’s rather simple to delegate tasks to folks for this one, so feel free to make use of idle hands in getting this feast to the table sooner. Regardless of what you do, know that you’ll have 6-8 happy feasters tucking into a meal replete with all of the spring bites they could possibly handle – sweet, crisp, salty, tart, bubbly and above all, wondrous. Let the feast begin!
Butterflied Chicken with Lemon and Herbs
Much like my obsession with collecting bolognese recipes, I love love love a good roast chicken recipe. I adore the way in which a little love, butter or olive oil, salt, pepper and aromatics transform the lowly chicken into something worth honoring. Crisp, golden skin and tender meat come into their own with very little effort, and a homestyle supper is on the table for loved ones without a second thought. Or if you love them EVEN more, you’ll just tuck in with them without even leaving the kitchen. Best of all the leftovers make at least one more meal, if not a gorgeous chicken stock.
My husband saw me oogling over Jonathan Waxman’s pan roasted chicken cooked in a cast iron skillet and purchased me a Lodge Logic 15″ beauty from Amazon. It’s heavy as hell (a two-hand job) but an amazing holder of temperature and big enough for a chicken and a mess of roasted veg to boot. It needs a name. Like Thor. Or maybe the Kraken. So whenever I take it out, I’m releasing the…haha…you get it.
For the butterflying portion, you can certainly have the butcher do it, but it’s easy work with a nice pair of kitchen scissors. Simply cut out the back (and save for stock) and flatten the entire mess with a little pressure on the breast bone. Prepping the chicken in this manner cuts the cooking time way down and allows more of the surface area to come into contact with the lemon and herbs. The whole mess forms a delicious sauce for the incredibly moist chicken, all with no fuss at all. So basically, yes, your prayers were answered and that homecooked meal you’ve been dreaming about is here. Now. Go make it.
Recipe for
Butterflied Chicken with Lemon and Herbs
Ingredients
1 whole chicken
2 lemons
1 bunch of rosemary
1 bunch of thyme
1 onion, thinly sliced
coarse sea salt and black pepper
good olive oil
1 bunch of tarragon
1/2 c. of chicken broth
2 tbs. of butter
Preheat the oven to 450°. Rinse the chicken well and pat dry. Using the poultry shears, cut along each side of the backbone to remove it. Flip the chicken over and press down on the breastbone to flatten it. Liberally season with coarse salt and black pepper and then rub with a bit of olive oil. Place chicken skin side down in a cast iron skillet. Surround the chicken with the onions and top with the rosemary and thyme. Halve the lemons and squeeze the juice over the chicken. Tuck lemons into the pan with the herbs and onions. Drizzle with a little more oil and pop into the oven. Bake for 50-60 minutes, or until the juices of the thigh meat run clear when pierced with a fork.
When the chicken is finished, remove from the skillet to a platter and let rest. Put the skillet on the stove and heat. Add the chicken broth and scrape up the browned bits on the bottom of the pan. When the sauce thickens a bit, add the butter. Strain the sauce and set aside. If you feel diligent, you can also pick out some of the roasted onions.
Carve the chicken into pieces and serve with the sauce.
Sparkling Rosé Sangria
I’m a fan of boozy fruit in the summertime. I have fond memories of sitting in the back yard with my fam, drinking homemade sangria from plastic tiki cups full of the freshest fruit available. Sometimes the fruit even came from the bounty my dad would bring back from the farmers at the market, gifts for keeping them entertained with a little blues every Saturday. Sangria reminds me of the “Party in my Tummy” song from Yo Gabba Gabba (yes, I took it there)…can mangos come to the party in the sangria? Can apples come to the party in the sangria? Yes and yes! Most every fresh fruit can have a place in the sangria pitcher.
I love this version in that it’s a slight departure from the usual red wine concoction. Sangria is incredibly EEO with wine color – red, white, champagne and even port can become lovely versions of this Spanish sipper. For a tropical touch, I combine rose sparkling wine (Spanish cava Cristalino, to keep things authentic) with mango, raspberries, pears and citrus. Brandy becomes a soaking tub for the fruit before it’s blended up with the cava and sprite into bubbly awesomeness. Dandy as candy. Or should I quote Gene Wilder as Willie Wonka with “candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.” Or maybe no more childhood references in a post about booze.
Recipe for
Sparkling Rosé Sangria
Ingredients
1/2 c. of brandy (preferably not cheap crap)
1 pear, cored and diced
1 mango, pitted and diced
1 orange, diced peel and all
1 lime, diced peel and all
1 pint of raspberries, fresh or frozen
1 bottle of sprite
1 bottle of rosé cava (or other sparkling rosé)
Mix diced pear, mango, orange, lime and raspberries with the brandy in a small bowl. Refrigerate for a half an hour.
Fill a gallon pitcher with a few cups of ice. Scoop out the fruit and add to the pitcher. Pour in the cava and top with sprite. Serve immediately.
Lemon Pound Cake with Fresh Berries
Is This a Recipe?
You’re gonna laugh when you read this recipe. Because it’s not. Aside from the slightest, and I mean the SLIGHTEST, bit of doctoring of this amalgamation, it is scarcely a recipe. When the name of the dish is “pound cake” and the first ingredient is *cough* pound cake, you know that there ain’t much goin’ on. So why post this at all? Because it’s good. Damn good.
Recent trips to my grandmother’s house have all included a care package of countless cookbooks and photocopies of tried and true recipes. It’s been glorious and at the same time humbling – so much to cook, so few mouths to feed, and above all else, so little time. It’s as sad as the number of clichés that I used in the previous sentence. She recently gave me the recipe for “The Best Damn Lemon Cake” which upon tasting, my husband and I agreed was the only name this cake could ever have. But much like life, this good thing involved a hell of a lot of steps to mold it into majesty. So what do I do, non-baker that I am? Create a yummy lemon glaze for a Sara Lee pound cake, top with seasonal berries and garnish with whipped cream and lemon zest. Let me tell you, it was sexy through and through, all the while saving me precious time to deal with the other courses of the meal I was preparing. So maybe I should call this the gift cake. I mean, it did manage to give me precious minutes of my life back. L.O.V.E.
Lemon Pound Cake with Fresh Berries
1 pound cake
2 pints of mixed berries (I like blueberries, hulled and halved strawberries, raspberries and blackberries)
zest of 1 lemon
1/2 c. lemon juice, freshly squeezed
3/4 c. of sugar
1/4 c. of water
fresh whipped cream
In a small saucepan, heat the lemon juice, sugar and water until boiling. While it heats up, take a chopstick and poke a crapload of holes into the top of the poundcake. Pour the boiling syrup over the cake. Let cool.
Once the cake has cooled completely, pour the excess syrup over the berries and toss. Stack a piece of poundcake with whipped cream and berries. Top with another piece of poundcake, whipped cream and lemon zest. Spoon additional berries around the side and serve.
Classic Stuffing
In the powerplay for key plate location and eating supremacy, stuffing is my champion well beyond Thanksgiving. Don’t get me wrong – I adore mashed potatoes, roast turkey, string beans and a biblical-worthy proclamation of gravy over all. But at the end of the day, the one dish that I jones about above all others is glorious stuffing.
For a goodly while, I’ve been taking part in (if not orchestrating) the Thanksgiving meal. I can remember the first time I was allowed in the kitchen to help out my paternal grandmother make sweet potatoes, and what a gift it was. It was like a vote of confidence that I was old enough to help out with the cooking (and thus, not going to eff things up). The meal itself was full of such history, from the family recipe for Carolina-style cornbread to two special versions of dressing, my favorite one with oysters. When it came to my making the meal myself years later, I carried with me the memories as much as the flavors and ingredients. This stuffing was less a recipe and more an extension of my favorite type of cooking – completely unfussy ingredients turning into deliciousness with fail-proof techniques. My hope is that if ever you end up cooking this meal for you and yours, and you don’t already have a beloved stuffing recipe, that maybe you’ll try this one out for inclusion in the pantheon of cherished Thanksgiving favorites. It’s really that simple and lovely that you’ll be happy to make it a part of your fam.
Recipe for
Classic Stuffing
Ingredients
2 bags of Pepperidge Farm stuffing (I prefer the crumbs to the cubes, but either works)
2 stalks of celery
2 carrots
1 large onion
2 apples
1 cup of craisins
6 c. of chicken stock
2 sprigs of sage
4 sprigs of thyme
1/2 tsp. of white pepper
1 tsp. of black pepper
1/4 tsp. of salt
1 stick of butter plus 2 tbs.
1 tbs. of olive oil
Begin by chopping your carrots, onion, celery and apples – I like to just throw everything in the food processor and chop into a rough dice. Stem and chop your sage and thyme. Set the herbs and veggies aside.
In a saucepan, warm your stock with 1 stick of the butter, white pepper, black pepper and salt. Add the craisins and allow to reconstitute. Let it hang out while you prep your veggies.
In a large skillet, add the 2 tbs. of butter and 1 tbs. of olive oil. Add the veggies and herbs and cook until softened, but not browned. Add the veggies to a large mixing bowl and stir in the stuffing. Pour the broth over the stuffing and stir to moisten. Turn out into a greased casserole dish.
Bake stuffing on 375° for 35-45 minutes, or until browned on top. Serve on a prime spot on your dinner plate.