Let me teach you guys a magic trick. How’d you like to learn how to take some old cans in your pantry and elevate the contents to heavenly bites of goodness? This white bean bruschetta is downright dirty in its simplicity – crack open a can of white beans, toss with a fresh vinaigrette of lemon, rosemary and garlic, and slather the deliciousness on toasted crostini. Continue reading White Bean Bruschetta with Rosemary and Lemon
Today I want to talk about straddling in the kitchen. You know, working the line between flavors, textures and temperatures to your own advantage. Juxtaposing ingredients to ensure that every bite is both sassy and class. It’s similar to the way that a chocolate-covered pretzel or a good and salty margarita scratch some primordial itch that occasionally pops up and leaves you clawing the walls for the smallest taste of the intoxicating combination. And if you don’t scratch said itch, you feel a need to indiscriminately throat chop everyone around you, until someone plies your greedy mouth with a salted caramel cupcake. I totally approve – desperate times call for desperate throat chops, and I’d kill a man for salted caramel. Continue reading Strawberry and Goat Cheese Crostini with Chocolate Olive Oil
I know that this is one of those recipes that you think of from 90s potlucks and progressive dinners. Pop it in a bread bowl and you are completely with the era. But I still go back to this recipe for the winning combination of flavors and the lack of pre-processed ingredients used to make it. This is no TGIF Frozen Spinach Dip in the freezer aisle of the grocery store. This one is for lovers only. Shallots and garlic flavor the creamy dip and bring out the sweetness of the spinach and artichokes. Best of all, the ingredient list is simple enough that you probably have most of the ingredients on hand already. So if you need a calorie splurge to go with a little junk TV, this’ll do the trick. Bravo, here I come… Continue reading Spinach Artichoke Dip
Champagne hasn’t been my friend for a long time. I go from bubbly to drunk to very hungover and unhappy in a matter of sips, and it’s a major thumbs down in that I adore a fizzy tipple once in a while. Although I like to occasionally dance with danger and partake a troublesome glass or two, I vastly prefer anything that’ll give me the same sensation without all the pain. Given that vodka and I are copacetic, I adore this incredibly simple martini that garners its bubbles from non-alcoholic pear cider. But not to worry, my off-the-wagon friends. This sparkler combines the ripe flavor of luscious pear vodka and floral St. Germain into a sweet, but strong (good and strong!) martini of the most delightful nature. I sip away with no regrets or apprehension, knowing that I’ll be staving off a vicious hangover. Well, assuming that I don’t drink five of these in a row without a second thought. Let’s pretend that’s never happened before, ok? Continue reading Sparkling Pear Martini
Like a true daughter of the Eastern shore, I love me some blue crab. I once read an article that broke me into a fury as strong as the east coast-west coast hip hop beef. Apparently Tupac thinks dungeoness crab is far better than Biggie’s favorite blue crabs, and that those little hard-shelled beauties from the Chesapeake Bay (and increasingly from the Gulf and around Texas) are too hard to crack and overrated. To which I say, Tupac, that’s bollocks. Come over for these crab-stuffed mushrooms anytime and I will change your mind. And yes, I just offered the deceased crab stuffed mushrooms.
This recipe is incredibly simple, but can be pricey if you are making it outside the Chesapeake Bay area. I lessen the blow by substituting half of the lump crab with claw meat – this briny, dark colored meat is far cheaper and works well as a mushroom filling. If that’s still too expensive, employ a blend of a half pound of diced raw shrimp and roasted red peppers sautéed with an extra cup of panko, a few tablespoons of butter and enough chicken stock to moisten the stuffing. Regardless of the seafood, the mixture is lightened by lemon zest and parsley, and has a dose of cayenne for kick. Make a batch of these for loved ones, and I am sure that your street cred will go through the roof. Homie? Homie.
1 shallot, minced
4 tbs. of butter
8 oz. lump crab meat
8 oz. of crab claw meat
1 egg
1/2 tbs. of dijon mustard
2 tbs. of mayo
pinch of cayenne
1/4 tsp. of white pepper
1 tbs. of fresh thyme
2 tbs. of fresh chopped parsley
1 tsp of old bay, plus more for sprinkling
1 lemon
1/2 c. of panko, plus more for sprinkling
1 lb. of cremini or white button mushrooms
Wipe the mushrooms clean and remove the stems. If you’d like, chop the stems and sauté with the shallots in the next step or save for another use (like a marinara sauce or a mushroom risotto). Line a cookie sheet with foil and grease with olive oil or butter. Place the mushroom caps on the cookie sheet and preheat the oven to 375°.
Sauté the shallots in a small skillet with the butter until translucent. Let cool to room temperature and then pour into a mixing bowl. Blend carefully with the egg, mustard, mayo, cayenne, white pepper, thyme, parsley, old bay and the zest of 1 lemon. Pick over the crab for any extra shells and gently fold into the stuffing mixture. Fold in the panko. Fill each mushroom with a few tablespoons of filling. Sprinkle with panko and old bay on top. Bake in the oven for 15 minutes until golden. Cut the lemon into wedges and squeeze over the mushrooms before serving. Eat and then bust a rhyme.
This one is so simple, it hardly really qualifies as a recipe. The result, however, is no less than spectacular – the perfect amalgamation of sweet and salty, with a pleasing crunch from the toasted bread. I first tried this combination at NYC restaurant Nizza, sister restaurant of Simon Oden baby, Marseille. Maybe it was that I was dining with two friends that also studied in Orvieto with me, but it harkened back to those days where a simple lunch of prosciutto, pecorino, bread, honey and wine became a revelation. The ingredients so fresh and earthy, you felt like you were tasting a bit of heaven. Though this recipe is certainly humble in terms of preparation, it’s a reminder that it doesn’t take much to secure bliss in a bite or two.
1/2 c. of whole milk ricotta
black pepper
pinch of white pepper
kosher salt
olive oil
a couple of slices of prosciutto
fig jam (found in nice grocery stores or online)
slices of ciabatta (9-12)
Preheat the oven to 400°. Line the slices of ciabatta on a cookie sheet and brush with olive oil on both sides. Sprinkle with kosher salt and freshly cracked pepper. Bake until golden and toasty, about 10-12 minutes. Remove from oven and let cool slightly.
In a small bowl, mix the ricotta, a pinch each of white and black pepper, a pinch of salt and a teaspoon of olive oil. Stir well to combine. Set aside.
Once your ciabatta has cooled, spread with a small amount of fig jam. Spread a few tablespoons of ricotta on top to cover. Gently place a bit of prosciutto on top, tearing each slice into smaller pieces if necessary. Crack a bit of fresh pepper on top and drizzle with a bit of additional olive oil (use a good, fruity one for drizzling). Serve.
Looking back on my cooking proclivities, I realize that many of my best recipes were created in that tender moment when you curse the heavens at your lack of preparation and guests on the way. What the hell are you gonna make? A couple of weeks ago, our good buddy Chris came over to pre-game before he and Dennis went to the Yankee game. I don’t know what it is, but I feel strange having people in my house without at least a nibble or a treat to offer them. Tough stuff when there is pretty much nothing awesome in the fridge. This was born of a surplus of cream cheese (after buying double by accident for a batch of cupcakes) and a pack of feta cheese. I decided to whip the two together with garlic and herbs and serve the whole mess on Triscuits. Majesty.
Similar to my fake-me-out Boursin recipe, this dip is a lot more impressive in taste than it’s humble ingredients. Lemon zest and garlic and depth of flavor and brightness, and olive oil smooths everything into a spreadable delight. Serve this with crackers, toast points or crudité. Or slice grilled chicken breasts in half and slather a bit in the middle for a yummy dinner. Whatever you do, don’t fuss too much because I certainly didn’t when I put it together the first time.
1 pkg. of cream cheese (or neufchatel)
4 oz. of feta
1 clove of garlic
1 tsp of black pepper
1 tsp of white pepper
1/2 tbs. of herbes des provence
1 tsp of lemon zest
1 tbs. of olive oil
Put garlic, pepper, herbs, zest and olive oil in the food processor and blend until finely chopped. Add feta and blend until crumbled. Add cream cheese and blend until smooth. Transfer to a bowl and chill in the fridge. Serve.
I’m hoping that by posting this recipe, I’ll be making my sister Lexi really, really, really inspired to start making this for herself. It’s her favorite – probably in the top five things that I make that she loves the most. And accomplished chef and baker she may be, she always cons me into making it for her. Maybe it’s like how I feel about a good grilled cheese – I can make it for myself, but it tastes so much better when someone else makes one for me. Come to think of it, Lexi makes my favorite grilled cheese of all time – Tilamook cheddar, feta cheese and a tomato on slices from a pullman loaf. Maybe we were meant to be sisters.
There are very few ingredients in this bruschetta, so you have to use the best ingredients possible. Fresh ripe tomatoes, leafy basil and fruity olive oil make all the difference. This topper is killer on toasted ciabatta, baguette rounds brushed with olive oil and baked, or even focaccia. If carbs aren’t your thing, try it atop chicken paillard (or a simply grilled chicken cutlet) and a handful of arugula. It’s a bistro meal without a ton of calories. You can also toss this bruschetta with boiled, cooled potatoes and blanched string beans for my absolute favorite salad of all time (similar to my Potatoes Vinaigrette).
This bruschetta doubles and triples easily – make enough for friends, but not enough for leftovers. It’s best eaten the same day before the tomatoes become soggy and too acidic. It’s a carpe diem kind of recipe, so tuck in post haste.
2 c. of chopped tomatoes
1 shallot, finely diced
3/4 tsp. of salt
1/4 tsp. of black pepper
5 tbs. of olive oil
2 tbs. of red wine vinegar
7 leaves of fresh basil, stacked, rolled and thinly sliced
toasted bread or crostini
Add tomatoes, salt, pepper, shallot and basil to a bowl. Toss with olive oil and vinegar. Taste for seasoning. Top crusty slices of bread with a few tablespoons of bruschetta and serve with sprigs of basil for garnish. Or put out the bread and bruschetta and let people assemble for themselves. For non-vegans, you can serve bruschetta topped with slices of buffala mozzarella as an added treat.
This recipe was born of a 100% “oh, crap” moment – I was cooking dinner for myself when I found out that a few good friends were on the way over to share a drink. My Brazilian/Italian roots are firmly planted in perennial hospitality – if people come over and you’re eating, you absolutely share what you’ve got, small though it may be. There’s a Brazilian song that says that the more people that come over, the more water you add to your beans to thin them out. All are welcome.
My dinner for one was barely enough to share with 4 hungry ladies, so I found myself rummaging through the freezer and pantry for items to whip into something special. In a moment of divine inspiration, I threw leftover lima beans, parsley, and lemon into the food processor and blitzed away. The result, similar to what Cesar Cardini must have felt when he turned lowly anchovies, garlic, eggs and oil into caesar dressing, was majesty.
This recipe is similar to a popular crostini topping that I used to eat all the time in Orvieto – there it was made from fava beans (or broad beans) and drizzled with fruity, golden olive oil. The lima beans are great because they’re easy to pull out of the freezer in a pinch, and cheaper than fava beans. That being said, if you see fresh fava beans at the market, grab them and try them as a replacement for the limas – they are so lovely. I like this bruschetta plain, but for a bit of decadence, you can crumble a bit of ricotta salata over the top for some added salty goodness. Lowly limas never had it so good.
This recipe is hard to make smooth without a food processor, but you can certainly do it with a mortar and pestle (or a mocajete). Just make sure to chop your herbs first, and then stage the ingredients in the same order as listed for the food processor in the instructions below.
10 oz. of frozen lima beans
1 c. of water
1 tbs. of lemon juice, freshly-squeezed
2 tbs. of red wine vinegar
1/3 c. of olive oil
2 – 4 cl. of garlic
4 leaves of basil
5 sprigs of parsley, leaves removed and stems discarded (save stems for stock)
1/2 tsp. of salt
1/4 tsp. of crushed red pepper
Put the lima beans and water in a pot and cook until tender, about 6-7 minutes. Drain and rinse with water to cool.
To your food processor, add your garlic, basil, parsley, salt and red pepper. Pulse until chopped finely. Add the vinegar, lemon and olive oil. Pulse until smooth. Remove to a tupperware and chill. Serve spread on grilled bread or crackers and drizzled with good olive oil.
Back when I fancied myself a writer and a thinker (ha!), I wanted to write a book on similarities and trends in people’s palettes. I found that the folks that hated olives also hated coconut, avocados and other lovely things that I couldn’t imagine not eating. It was like a package deal or something. While my theories have yet to be tested on a larger scale, I definitely do believe that your palette can be trained to taste and eventually love foods that you may not like right now.
For me, one of the foods that I’ve come around to over the years are green olives. I’ve always adored black olives – I was the little kid who put the canned ones on my fingers like a fool, only to eat them off – but absolutely abhorred green olives. In a moment of revelatory tastetastiness (sure, that’s a word), I had olive tapenade at a local tapas restaurant as an amuse bouche. The chef served it with plantain chips – a fun spin on chips and salsa. Needless to say, I was hooked from that moment on. Continue reading Olive Tapenade
