A Good Way To Show Affection

It seems that the older I get the more I begin to understand my parents. Also, it seems that I am slowly turning into my parents, which is three things: alarming, seemingly unavoidable, and a topic for another time.

I will say, though, that we had a wonderful weekend. We showed them around town and ate at some of our favorite restaurants. And on Sunday, when the clouds crept back in to settle over the city, we didn't even mind. The rain allowed us a cozy afternoon which we spent curled up at the Panama Hotel drinking tea and making up our own rules to Spanish Scrabble, and although Jimmy beat us by a long shot and my dad took upwards of what felt like an hour each time his turn came around, we had fun.

It was such a lovely afternoon, in fact, that just looking at this picture, knowing that the scene is over, dishes put away, game packed up and the box shoved into its rightful place under the table, I feel sort of on the verge of choking back a tear or two. I also feel greatly relieved that my dad has now returned to Arizona and that I can’t see his face when he finds out that I have just outed him as the slowest scrabble player e v e r.

The rain also allowed us a cozy Sunday morning at home, the kind of morning perfect for long cups of coffee, passing around the newspaper, and immoderate eating. And since any girl worth her salt knows that homemade biscuits are a good way to show affection, I baked up a batch using my all time favorite recipe.

They’re not hip, nor are they flashy, but I love them anyway, maybe even for that very reason. They’re humble and reassuring and so, so delicious. They’re quite simple to make too. You combine the dry ingredients in one bowl, work in the shortening, add the wet ingredients, throw a little flour on your hands to shape the dough into small spheres which you then throw in the pan and stick into the oven. Twenty minutes later they emerge: golden brown, slightly tangy, soft and bright, and absolutely perfect for a smear of jam or honey. Just thinking about them makes me weak in the knees, really, I could go on and on about these humble beauties but that would only delay you in reaching for your mixing bowl and getting to work and, well, that’s just rude.

Touch of Grace Biscuits

Adapted from “CookWise” by Shirley O. Corriher

Courtesy of The New York Times

Nonstick Cooking Spray

2 cups self-rising Southern flour (I like White Lily)

¼ cup sugar

½ teaspoon salt

4 tablespoons vegetable shortening

2/3 cup heavy cream

1 cup buttermilk, or as needed

1 cup all-purpose flour (not self-rising)

2 tablespoons butter, melted

Arrange a shelf slightly below the center of your oven and preheat oven to 425 degrees. Spray a 9-inch cake pan with non-stick cooking spray and set aside.

In a large mixing bowl, stir together the self-rising flour, sugar, and salt. Work the shortening in with your fingers until there are no large lumps and the dough is course and grainy. Gently stir in the cream and the buttermilk. At this point the dough will look like wet cottage cheese. If it looks too dry, add a little more buttermilk.

Let dough sit for a minute and spread the all-purpose flour (not self-rising) on a plate or other dry and clean surface. Use a medium ice cream scoop or ¼ cup measuring cup and place 2-3 scoops of dough in the flour. Sprinkle flour over each scoop, flour your hands, and shape a ball with each scoop of dough. Shake off excess flour and place each ball in prepared pan. Repeat with remaining dough. Biscuits should be touching one another in the pan. Brush with melted butter.

Bake for 20-25 minutes until lightly browned. Brush tops of biscuits with more melted butter if desired. Invert onto a plate and cut quickly between biscuits to make them easy to remove. Serve immediately.

Yield: 12-14 biscuits

Just Fine On It's Own

It was 70 degrees in Seattle on Saturday and we awoke to sunlight stretching itself across the apartment.

My parents were in town for the weekend and we decided to mark the occasion by driving with the windows down and eating loads of ice cream. We roamed the University Farmer's Market, stuck our toes in the sand at Golden Gardens, ate dinner outdoors on Lake Union, and stretched out at our neighborhood park until the light had failed us. It was such a great day. Like spring, really.

Unfortunately the sun didn't last long. As I type this, it's raining again, and cold. The weather forecast for the week leaves a whole lot to be desired. Such as warmth for one thing, and sunlight, and spring produce. I could really use a little asparagus and rhubarb right about now. 

Here's the thing: I understand that, for some of you, spring has made its full fledged arrival. Your days of dark leafy greens and bulby root vegetables has come and gone and kale is probably the last thing you want to hear about. For that, I'm sorry. Mother Nature is a bossy little lady when it comes to growing seasons around here. I had big plans to share with you a roasted asparagus frittata and a cocktail involving rhubarb and prosecco, but I guess those recipes will just have to wait a bit longer. 

Luckily, prosecco does just fine on its own and frittatas easily adapt to whatever produce you happen to have on hand. For us, leeks and kale continue to be plentiful, and oh my, quite the frittata they make indeed. It might be airing a little on the wintery side as far as recipes are concerned, but eh, thats just the way things go sometimes.

And anyways, its not so bad, I love kale.

And leeks.

And this frittata is totally, totally delicious. I'm sorry, and you're welcome, and I love you. 

Kale, Leek, and Cheddar Frittata

With a blend of sweet leeks, earthy kale, and rich cheddar this recipe has quickly become an easy at-home standby, calling as it does for just a few simple ingredients. The principle is simple. You throw the veggies into a pan and knock them around for a few minutes until the leeks go softly brown and the ruffly kale leaves relax and turn a shiny emerald green. Then you combine them with a few eggs and some cheddar and let the mixture burble on low heat until the egg is cooked through. Throw the whole thing in the oven to broil it brown and just like that your frittata is served. All told, it goes down astoundingly well with a little prosecco at brunch, just so you know, and a green salad is nice too, especially with a hunk of crusty bread on the side. 

3-4 tablespoons olive oil, divided

2 medium leeks, chopped (green parts cut off and discarded) 

4-5 ounces kale ( I used lacinto (dinosaur kale) but any variety I imagine would do fine)

7 large eggs

3/4 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese

pinch of salt

Preheat the broiler of your oven.

In a medium sized skillet, heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil over medium heat. Add the leeks and cook, stirring frequently, until they have softened but have not yet started to brown. Add the kale and one tablespoon of the oil. Cook, again stirring frequently, until the kale is wilted and soft and leeks have started to brown. If pan looks dry before kale is sufficiently wilted, add another splash of olive oil and continue to cook until kale is at desired consistency. Set aside.

Whisk together the eggs in a medium bowl until just combined. Stir in the cheese and salt until blended. Add the kale and leek mixture and whisk to mix well.

Wipe any burnt pieces from the skillet and add 1/2 tablespoon of olive oil. Let the olive oil and skillet warm over low heat. When pan is warm, pour in the egg mixture, and continue to cook over low heat until bottom of frittata is lightly browned and top is mostly set. To check the bottom, use a heat-proof rubber spatula to lift up sides of frittata to peek underneath. 

Remove skillet from the heat and place in oven under broiler until the top is nicely browned. Watch carefully-this will happen fast!

Cut into wedges and serve. 

Yields about 4 servings. 

Honestly Honored

I am so excited to share with you, dear reader, that you can now also find me and my writing over at Honest Cooking, an international online culinary magazine that I am beyond honored to be a part of. I'll be contributing regularly and I do hope you'll come and visit often.

In my first article I re-visit the coconut macaroon in an attempt to throw a curve ball at traditional Passover cuisine. Crispy and craggly on the outside with a chewy center and a smear of tart lemon curd sandwiched between, these babies make the perfect cookie for Passover, Easter, or any old day, really. Stop by Honest Cooking for the article and recipe and feel free to say hi. Your comments make my day.

Hope your Spring holidays are happy, friends. 

Hook, Line, and Sinker

I believe I owe you an apology. Last week I distracted you with cupcakes and then, while you weren't looking, Jimmy and I hopped on a plane and sat ourselves down on the beach for a week. I'm sorry. 

As luck would have it, Jimmy had an AAN conference to attend in Waikiki and I, being a supportive wife, tagged along to keep him company. 

It was a week filled with pool side cocktails, orange umbrellas, big sunglasses, bikinis, and flip flops. See what I mean about being a supportive wife? It is a seriously good thing Jimmy has me around for stuff like this. 

We both fell fast in love with the island. We even liked Waikiki. The beaches there were fun and crowded and the streets were a constant bustle of tourists and buskers. In the evening the light from the sun made the buildings look golden and glowy and we walked around in shorts and flip flops and even though it rained a little it stayed warm out, which is all we can ever ask for. 

On top of that, when you leave Waikiki, there are beaches on Oahu that will make your jaw drop. Not kidding. 

Also, Ashley lives on Oahu. Bonus.

And the food, oh the food! We ate Poke on the beach at night with our toes in the sand and we stopped at roadside restaurants for plate lunches with grilled shrimp and pulled pork.

We had made-to-order Thai food from a truck.

And the Sutherlands prepared us fresh Sashimi and grilled Ahi a la pool side. 

Sydney even put in some hard work to get us fresh crab.

In between shoving our faces with food and Jimmy impressively attending conference sessions, ahem, we spent time exploring the island. 

I perfected the art of side mirror and moving car photography.

And we had a torrid love affair with the North Shore.



 

Our final evening was spent with Ashley watching surfers catch the last waves of the day as the sun set over the ocean. That's when it became official: Oahu had stolen our hearts. Hook, line, and sinker. We were in love. 

Oahu Foodie Directory:

Check out the pool side bar at the Waikiki Edition

1775 Ala Moana Blvd

Honolulu, Hawaii 96815

808-943-5800

Get the garlic shrimp and chocolate haupia cream pie at Ted's Bakery

59-024 Kamehameha Highway

Sunset Beach, Hawaii 96712

Try a plate lunch at Keneke's

41-857 Kalanianaole Hwy

Waimanalo, Hawaii 96795

808-259-9811

Have the chef surprise you at the Opal Thai Food Truck.

66-460 Kamehameha Highway

Haleiwa, Hawaii 96712

808-381-8091

Thank you a million times over to the Sutherlands and their warm welcoming hospitality to us during our visit!



Work in Progress

In May I’ll be twenty nine years old. By all reasonable accounts I’m an adult. I’m married. I pay my bills. I stay awake on the bus. I floss. I totally floss. And I wake up every day and go to work.

But even here in late twenty-ville adulthood is still a daunting proposition. Tax season never fails to elicit an inordinate amount of crying. I run screaming at the first sight of anything sporting antennae, wings, or spindly legs. And I can’t fold a fitted sheet to save my life. Trust me, it’s not pretty. 

There’s still so much to figure out. I’m not sure I’ll ever enter the ranks as a full fledged adult, and I’m not sure I want to. But, eh, I’m a work in progress- so in the meantime I’m going to sit back, enjoy the rest of those Meyer lemons, embrace the tears, and thank heavens- but heavens!- that our taxes have been filed, that I married a man adept at killing even the ickiest of bugs, and that we have deep shelves in which to shove those damn fitted sheets.

I’m also going to eat a lot of cupcakes. Because even adults know that cupcakes make everything better.

Meyer Lemon Cupcakes**

Adapted from Bon Appetit, April 2008

When the ins and outs of adulthood have got me down, there are few things more cathartic than reaching for the mixing bowl and pouring batter for a dozen individual little cakes, each more or less the same but with slight differences and imperfections here and there. To be honest, as a general rule, I like making cupcakes a whole lot better than I like eating them [cue gasp]. But these “cupcakes” are more along the lines of muffins, moxie little muffins we’ll call them. And they are totally, totally delicious. Utterly ballsy in their plainness, maybe even a bit homely, these rustic buttery lovelies have loads of flavor, fresh and sprightly clean with a moist delicate crumb. Drizzled with a little honey they’re the kind of thing you’ll want to shove into your face, three at a time, for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Also, they pair swimmingly with a cup of tea, just so you know.

3/4 cup (12 tablespoons) unsalted butter at room temperature

1 ½ cups powdered sugar

3 teaspoons Meyer lemon zest

2 large eggs

1 ¼ cups self-rising flour

¼ cup buttermilk

2 tablespoons fresh squeezed Meyer lemon juice

Preheat oven to 350°F. Line 12 muffin cups with paper liners. Using an electric mixer, beat butter, powdered sugar, and lemon zest in a large bowl until blended, fluffy, and pale yellow. Add eggs 1 at a time, beating to blend after each addition. Beat in half of the flour. Add buttermilk and lemon juice and beat to blend. Beat in remaining flour.

Divide batter equally among muffin cups and bake cupcakes until a wooden skewer inserted halfway into centers comes out clean, about 20-23 minutes. Cool cupcakes in pan on rack. Serve with a drizzle of honey.

**A note about the lemons-This is actually the first time I’ve used Meyer lemons for this recipe. Regular lemons work beautifully as well and no adjustments need to be made.

Meyer Lemon and Rosemary Tea

From Edible Seattle

1/2 Meyer Lemon (or regular lemon)

1 sprig fresh rosemary

Honey to taste

Fill a mug with the juice of 1/2 lemon, the squeezed lemon half, a sprig of rosemary and plenty of honey. Fill mug with boiling water and let sit until cool enough to drink. Makes 1 glass.

Time Flies

I swear, I just don't know where the days go. I wake up one morning and it's Tuesday, and we're discussing cardamom cakelets, and then, before I know it, POOF!, a full week flies by and I haven't even stopped in to say hi. I'm sorry. I blame taxes and long days at work. It's been a little rough around here.

We did, however, do a bang up job making a giant mess of our kitchen. So that's something.

In any case, I haven't forgotten about you, I promise. In fact, I thought about you quite a bit last week when I opened up our CSA box to find eight, eight (!), fully ripened late season Meyer lemons curled up sweetly next to the beets and kale. 

I've never been one to ignore fate, especially when it appears in the form of late season Meyer lemons, so you better believe that I made quick work of preserving those orange-hued beauties. 

Meyer lemons carry a little less pucker than their traditional counterparts. I like to think of them as a more grown up version-like a lemon with a college degree. They're lovely, just lovely, and they're perfect for preserving which also happens to be a dead simple thing to do. 

You quarter the lemons just enough so that they stay intact, then you rub em down with a little salt and squish them in a jar. Let them sit for a couple of weeks and ba-ding! Your work is done. 

Salt Preserved Lemons

Meyer lemons are great for preserving, but they are also magical and don't come around very often, so if you only have the regular kind laying around those will work just fine. Preserved lemons are used in a lot of Moroccan dishes but are also wonderful with roasted veggies, meats, salads, and desserts. Click here for more ideas on how to use your newly preserved lemons. 

What you will need:

5-6 Lemons

1-2 cups Kosher salt

Instructions:

Working over a bowl, slice the lemons in quarters, leaving one end intact so they split open into four wedges. Give them a squeeze to release some juices and rub salt into the interior flesh making sure to cover the rinds as well. Densely pack the lemons into a clean glass jar, pressing down to expel juices. Pour in the remaining salt and juices that collected in bowl. Cover and store on the counter for 2-3 days, occasionally turning jar upside down. 

Over these first couple of days the jar should fill, covering the lemons in their own juice. If after three days the lemons are not submerged, add some fresh squeezed lemon juice to cover fully. Once they are fully submerged, place the jar in the refrigerator for 3-4 weeks until the rinds are soft. Once preserved lemons can be stored in the fridge for up to six months. Before using preserved lemons, be sure to rinse them thoroughly in cold water.