More Tomatoes: Simple Roasted Tomato Sauce

I literally just sliced up the tomatoes, drizzled them with olive oil, salt, and pepper, and popped them in a 400 degree oven with a clove or two of garlic for a little while. Once they were good and melty (about 20 minutes), I took them out, mashed them up, and used them to top linguine.

Served with a side salad and balsamic, it was a quick weeknight dinner for us.

More Tomatoes: Pasta Bake

Okay, so after I gave a big speech about my tomato conversion, I have another confession to make. I hate oregano.

This presents a problem when making the following dish, a recipe from Giada, with a quarter cup of oregano. As any good cook would do (I assume), I just left it out and relied on the fresh tomatoes from my dad's garden to shine through.

But as any great cook would do (I would know), I took it a step further. I added cheese.

This is a great baked pasta dish, with plenty of fresh tomato flavor. It's quick and easy, too. Julia and I enjoyed it immensely.

Pasta a la Formiana
Serves 4

Butter, for greasing dish
1 (28-ounce) can crushed tomatoes
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 pound (8 ounces) mezze penne or other small pasta
1/3 cup olive oil, plus extra for drizzling
1/4 cup grated parmesan
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
4 to 5 very ripe, extra-large or beefsteak tomatoes, cut into 1/2-inch thick slices

Put an oven rack in the center of the oven. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F. Butter an 8 by 8-inch glass baking dish. Set aside.
Using a food processor (or your potato masher, as I did), combine the garlic and crushed tomatoes. Pour into a medium bowl and add the uncooked pasta, 1/3 cup olive oil, half the cheese, salt, and pepper. Toss until all the ingredients are coated.
Line the bottom and sides of the baking dish with tomato slices. Pour the pasta mixture into the pan and spread evenly. Arrange the remaining tomato slices in an overlapping layer on top of the pasta mixture, making sure the mixture is completely covered. Drizzle with olive oil and top with the rest of the cheese. Bake until the tomatoes are slightly crispy and the pasta is cooked, about 1 hour. Remove from the oven and cool for 5 minutes before serving.

La Familia

I'm sure you all remember my post about Christmas Lasagna. I love lasagna, especially in the winter time, but my luck with lasagna (as you may recall) has been less than favorable.

When I found this recipe in Gourmet last year, I earmarked it and waited for a time when I would have enough people (about 6, I figured) to eat it.

Finals week at Laura and my apartment was a little less than traditional. I spent most of Monday and Tuesday in the library, writing papers, and then had very little to do for the rest of the week. Our house ended up as the "study house", which really meant that Aaron, Laura's boyfriend, and a few of our other friends came over, listened to Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston, and celebrated the end of the semester. I've been lucky enough to live somewhere that feels like home to more than just me--a place where people know they're always welcome, and there will always be a dessert or two lingering. While part of the magic lies with Laura, I'm proud to say I think some has rubbed off on me, as people continue to come for dinner (actually, Aaron is here doing laundry right now--we just finished some apple pie. He reminded me that I should finish this blog post).

After unfolding our dining room table and searching for extra chairs, we sat down for a meal--a big, family dinner. It was lovely, and one of my fondest memories from college thus far. In not so many words, it became apparent that this was the family the lot of us had chosen. I remember praying over the meal (something I don't do often with friends who are otherwise religiously unaffiliated) because I really did want to thank God for these people--and for this lasagna.

Oh yes, this lasagna was indeed that good. I'm pretty critical of my own dishes, and while I thought the meat filling was a little on the dry side, I'm pretty sure a second try would find it close to perfection.

Lasagne Bolognese with Spinach
Serves 6-8
From Gourmet, January 2009: In the Emilia-Romagna region of Italy, lasagne bolognese is usually made with a besciamella sauce. Italian-American cooks often replace that time-consuming step with ricotta. In this wickedly good interpretation, food editor Melissa Roberts combines the two traditions by whisking milk into some of the ricotta, creating a billowy pseudo-besciamella (the remaining ricotta mixture is stirred together with spinach). We rarely call for specific brands, but we did find that widely available Barilla no-boil dried noodles produced an exemplary lasagne. An egg pasta, this one comes very close to the flavor and delicacy of homemade.

For bolognese sauce:
1/4 cup olive oil
3 ounces sliced pancetta, finely chopped
1 medium onion, finely chopped
1 large carrot, finely chopped
1 celery rib, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, chopped
2 pounds ground beef chuck (not lean)
1 1/2 cups dry white wine
1 1/2 cups whole milk
1/4 cup tomato paste
1 1/2 teaspoon thyme leaves

For Ricotta filling:
2 (10-ounce) packages frozen chopped spinach,thawed
2 (15-ounce) containers whole-milk ricotta
4 large eggs, lightly beaten
1/2 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
1/2 teaspoon grated nutmeg
3/4 cup whole milk, divided

For assembling lasagne:
12 Barilla no-boil dried lasagne noodles (from 1 box)
1/2 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano

Equipment: a 13- by 9-inch baking pan (3 inches deep)

Make Sauce: Heat oil in a 12-to 14-inch heavy skillet over medium heat until it shimmers. Cook pancetta, onion, carrot, celery, and garlic, stirring occasionally, until vegetables are golden and softened, 12 to 15 minutes. Add beef and cook, stirring occasionally and breaking up any lumps, until meat is no longer pink, 6 to 10 minutes. Stir in wine, milk, tomato paste, thyme, 1/4 teaspoon salt, and 3/4 teaspoon pepper. Simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until most of liquid has evaporated but sauce is still moist, about 1 hour.

Make ricotta filling: Put spinach in a kitchen towel (not terry cloth) and twist to squeeze out as much moisture as possible. Whisk together ricotta, eggs, parmesan, nutmeg, 1 1/4 teaspoons salt, and 1 teaspoon pepper. Transfer 1 1/2 cups ricotta mixture to another bowl and whisk in 1/4 cup milk; set aside. Whisk spinach into remaining filling with remaining 1/2 cup milk.
Assemble and bake lasagne: Preheat oven to 375°F with rack in middle.

Soak noodles in a bowl of very warm water until pliable but not softened, 3 to 5 minutes. Place on a kitchen towel (it's not necessary to pat noodles dry).

Spread 1 1/2 cups bolognese sauce in baking pan and sprinkle with 1 tablespoon parmesan. Cover with 3 noodles, leaving space in between. Spread half of spinach filling on top, then 1 cup bolognese sauce, and top with 1 tablespoon parmesan and 3 noodles; repeat. Top with remaining bolognese sauce, 1 tablespoon parmesan, and remaining 3 noodles. Pour reserved ricotta mixture over top and sprinkle with remaining 1/4 cup parmesan.

Cover pan tightly with parchment paper and foil (or just buttered foil) and bake 50 minutes. Remove foil and bake until top is browned in spots, about 15 minutes more. Let stand 15 to 30 minutes before cutting.

Tomato Paste.

At the beginning of the school year, I bought a small can of tomato paste. I used about a tablespoon for something-or-other, wrapped the remaining paste it in foil and plastic wrap, and stashed it in the freezer (a la Karen Hunter).

The tomato paste returned for these meatballs--an atypical dinner choice for me--but since we have so much angel hair pasta laying around, I wanted to try and use some of it up prior to Laura's departure (Laura has gone to Morocco for the semester, have I mentioned that?). Matt was also over for dinner, and as you may recall, Matt loves spaghetti.

But the way this recipe uses tomato paste sent me running out for more. It deepens the flavor, and adds a really hearty richness to sauces and other recipes, like this one. I've been adding it to everything lately. Just a little goes a long way.

The meatballs were great, too. We used turkey bacon instead of the pancetta, which may have made the meatballs greasier than intended. The best thing about these meatballs is the fact that they're baked--no messing with hot oil!

Baked Chicken Meatballs
Serves 4
From Smitten Kitchen

3 slices Italian bread, torn into small bits (1 cup)
1/3 cup milk
3 ounces sliced pancetta, finely chopped
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 small garlic clove, minced
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided
1 large egg1 pound ground chicken
2 tablespoons tomato paste, divided
3 tablespoons finely chopped flat-leaf parsley

Preheat oven to 400°F with a racks the upper thirds. Soak bread in milk in a small bowl until softened, about four minutes.

Cook pancetta, onion, and garlic in one tablespoon oil with 1/2 teaspoon each of salt and pepper in a large skillet over medium heat until onion is softened, about 6 minutes. Cool slightly.

Squeeze bread to remove excess milk, then discard milk. Lightly beat egg in a large bowl, then combine with chicken, 1 tablespoon tomato paste, pancetta mixture, bread, and parsley.

Form 12 meatballs and arrange in another 4-sided sheet pan (I used a 9×13 roasting dish). Stir together remaining tablespoons of tomato paste and oil and brush over meatballs (the paste/oil does not mix in any cohesive manner, but just smoosh it on and run with it) , then bake in upper third of oven until meatballs are just cooked through, 15 to 20 minutes (though mine took a good 5 minutes longer).

Serve over angel hair pasta with plenty of grated Parmesan.

Two for one special.

When you cook for two (or more), you engage in a gradual process of discovering what the other person (or people) will or will not eat. I know some of you have children--this is probably not news to you. But when I moved in with Laura, I figured I would have to go through this process of feeling out different spices, vegetables and recipes to see what she would eat and what she wouldn't.

I have learned this: Laura will eat just about anything, except for (1) things that are hot/spicy and (2) sundried tomatoes.

I love sundried tomatoes. I didn't always. But now that they've outlived the trend, I can say that I could consume a whole bag-full in a sitting. I like the Whole Foods brand for snacking, and the ones packed in olive oil are really best for cooking (though we rarely buy them).

So when I went to make this goat cheese pasta sauce, I figured sundried tomatoes would be a natural accompaniment. This, however, probably would not stand with my roommate.

Laura, however, loves red peppers. So, in compromise, I made two separate dishes with the same sauce--one with sundried tomatoes and one with red peppers. The recipe couldn't be easier.

Goat Cheese Pasta (two ways)
Serves 2

1 1/2 oz. goat cheese
8 oz. bowtie pasta

1/4 c pasta water
Fresh ground black pepper and kosher salt
5 sundried tomatoes, sliced; 1/2 red bell pepper, julienned

Cook and drain pasta, reserving about 1/2 c pasta water. In large bowl, combine 1/4 c pasta water and goat cheese. Whisk cheese and water together, adding more water to create a sauce. Season with salt and pepper and toss with pasta.

For sundried tomatoes, simply place in the bottom of the strainer before draining the pasta. Saute the red bell peppers in olive oil until softened but still crisp. Add to pasta.

Butternut Squash Pasta Sauce

After lamenting a little bit over what we don't have this season, it may be very appropriate to say what I am thankful for. Squash is at the top of my list this year.

We've covered the acorn squash, but everyone knows that butternut is the squash (for the last two seasons, at least). If you've tried (and loved) Smitten Kitchen's Butternut Squash and Caramelized Onion Gallette, you know exactly what I'm talking about. We made one a few weeks ago, but since the squash we got was so big, the second half, already peeled and seeded, sat in the fridge for at least a week.

Running low on dinner ideas, I decided to try a butternut squash pasta sauce based on a bottle I had seen at Williams-Sonoma. They, of course, were selling it for an outrageous price in a quantity that would been unreasonable for us to own. I decided to take a stab at making my own, after reading the ingredient list, to toss with some angel hair pasta.

I failed to write down the recipe I was cooking, so most of these instructions are just "guestimates". Just trust your own taste and feel for consistency. Add the half-and-half or cream in intervals.

Butternut Squash Pasta Sauce
I made this using what I had, but written this way, you just fill in whatever quantities you feel work.

1/2 of a medium butternut squash
Olive oil
1 handful Parmesan cheese
Half-and-Half to cover
1 dash cinnamon

1 dash nutmeg
Black pepper, to taste
Salt, to taste

Preheat the oven to 375. Dice the butternut squash into 1/2" pieces and coat with olive oil. Sprinkle with salt and pepper and toss into the oven until tender, about 30 minutes. Let cool. In a blender or food processor, combine the Parmesan, cinnamon, nutmeg, salt, and black pepper with the squash. Cover with half and half and blend until creamy but not too liquid-like (you're going for a pasta sauce here...I trust you'll make that call). Serve over angel hair pasta, sprinkle with black pepper and Parmesan.

Chicken Piccata with Capers and Sweet Corn

I am finding it very difficult to remember summer.

Watermelon, blackberries, peaches...It all seems so far away now, as I sit in my unheated apartment wearing three layers. But there was a time when fresh sweet corn was readily available, and I would stand over the trashcan and husk it just as the sun was setting (around 7 or 8 o'clock).

Though sweet corn season is over, I feel as though I should record this recipe just so I remember it for next year. It was the perfect combination of flavors--the salty capers, the sweet corn, the acidic lemon juice and crisp white wine. We came up with this one ourselves, just trying to get rid of a few ears languishing in the fridge. Maybe you'll try this with frozen corn, or mark it on your calendar for next year.

Chicken Piccatta with Capers and Sweet Corn
Serves 2
Adapted from Gourmet, October 1991

3/4 lbs. whole skinless boneless chicken breast, halved lengthwise
2 Tb. unsalted butter
1 Tb olive oil
4 Tb dry white wine
2 Tb fresh lemon juice
2 Tb drained bottled capers, chopped
3 Tb minced fresh parsley leaves (use 'em if you got 'em, but it is optional)
1/2 lb. spaghetti or angel hair pasta

Halve the chicken pieces horizontally with a sharp knife and flatten them slightly between sheets of plastic wrap. In a large, heavy skillet heat half the butter and the oil over moderately high heat until the foam subsides. Saute the chicken pieces, seasoned with salt and pepper, 1-2 minutes on each side or until they are cooked through. Transfer the chicken to a platter and keep warm (Aaron's mom taught us this trick--just stick in the microwave. It'll keep your food warm without even being on!). Add the wine, lemon juice, capers, and corn, scraping the brown bits from the bottom of the pan. Bring the mixture to a boil. Add the chicken and simmer for a few minutes, bringing the ingredients together. Serve over spaghetti or angel hair pasta, garnished with parsley.

Back to reality.

Since we last spoke, I have survived two weeks in Thailand, two and a half weeks in the wilderness (with children), moving into an apartment (twice), leading worship, and starting class.
Being in Thailand—and at camp—was like living in an alternate universe. How is there no cheese in Thailand? Since when did I like oatmeal so much?

Just thinking about unpacking for good today made me realize: I have come back to reality. Reality, in the sense that I’m using it, has a wonderful connotation. Grocery shopping, making dinner every night, and having friends over for dessert is a really wonderful reality, a reality I missed and for which I am grateful.

Part of this new reality is my new roommate—Laura—who gives me full reign of the kitchen and likes just about everything I make. She invited our friends, Jess and Brian (who are recently married—gah! I have friends who are married), over for dinner. We had only been living in the apartment a few days, so there wasn’t much in our fridge just yet. Expected to deliver a meal worthy of my reputation in the kitchen, I began to scramble.

Then I remembered this story from bread&honey. When Italians wives had affairs, and therefore did not have enough time to slave over a hot stove making the perfect red sauce, they would make a sauce called "putan"(which literally means “whore”). Of course, I would have looked up the recipe, but we don't have internet yet, so I was forced to It’s dependent on fresh ingredients and requires very little stove time, thus it’s absolutely perfect for the end of summer (and if you're interested in tricking your husband into believing you slaved over a red sauce all day, when really you just tossed this together).

I grabbed some tomatoes and basil from my dad’s garden, and because we always have onions and garlic on hand, this sauce came together in a flash. We added a poached egg on top for a little protein, and because, well, a poached egg always brings a little class to a dish. The dish was well received, however, I forgot to snap a photo until midway through eating.

Pasta alla Puttanesca
Serves 4

4-5 big, ripe tomatoes, cubed
4 Tb. olive oil, divided
1 medium white onion or half a large onion, diced
3-4 cloves garlic
1/2 tsp dried thyme
1 lb. pasta (we used rigatoni)
4 eggs
Basil

Optional: olives, anchovies, torn prosciutto

1. Dice the onion and saute in 2 Tb olive oil until softened.
2. Add the rest of the oil, garlic and tomatoes and simmer over medium-low heat until warmed through (the tomatoes should only break down a little). Add the thyme (and other herbs, if you like, oregano or an "Italian seasoning" would work here) and season to taste with salt and pepper.
3. Meanwhile, boil water and cook the pasta.
4. About 5 minutes into cooking the pasta, bring a sauce pan, about half-way full with water, to a boil. Crack eggs into small cups first, and when the water reaches a boil, gently drop the eggs into the water. They will feather out a little, but do not be concerned. Take the water off the heat, cover, and wait 4-5 minutes (depending on how done you like the yoke). After 4-5 minutes, use a slotted spoon to fish out the eggs and place on a paper towel to absorb some of the water.
5. Combine the sauce and pasta in a large bowl. Plate the pasta on the bottom and the poached egg on top. Sprinkle with black pepper and Parmesan cheese.

Parsley and Garlic Mussels with Squid Ink Pasta

I apologize for the poor lighting in my kitchen. But I think the real reason you can't really see my plate is because the dish was essentially black-on-black.

Walking around West Side Market on Friday afternoon, I discovered a stand called Ohio City Pasta. They, as one would imagine, specialize in fresh pasta. Ashamed as I am, I have actually never bought fresh pasta, despite its availability at Reading Terminal (you know the Italian place in the back? Go to the side counter). The appeal of Ohio City Pasta is that it sells interestingly flavored pasta in individual portions.

I've been cooking for one for a little over two weeks now, and let me tell you: It is easier to buy groceries for a party of ten then for one. A box of pasta is about 4 meals. Economically, this is fantastic, but do I really want to be eating that much pasta? Not really.

I chose the squid ink pasta because not only did it sound a little badass, but it looked a little badass. I mean, how cool is black pasta? And for $1.25, I figured it was worth it.

The issue then became what to pair the pasta with. I received a good suggestion from my friend Courtney--something with garlic (olive oil, chile flakes, lemon, parsley and few tomatoes, she added). I read up on squid ink and decided seafood might be the best pairing to the pasta. With Prince Edward Island Mussels costing only $2 a pound (compared to $5 for the freshest clams), I decided mussels would be a great acommpainment.

The following recipe is really easy and, again, pretty cheap to reproduce. It is also simply delicious--parsley, butter, garlic and the mussel juices combine to create a light sauce that highlights the seafood undertones of the pasta--and it all combines for you in the oven.

I tried using a really good applewood smoked bacon with the clams, but they didn't cook the whole way through. Despite adding a deeper flavor element, I think you can go without. I'd be anxious to try a cured meet, like prosciutto.

Parsley and Garlic Mussels with Squid Ink Pasta
Based on a recipe from Gourmet, 2000
Serves 1 very hungry boy

1 lb mussels, cleaned
2-3 garlic cloves, coarsely chopped
1/2 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley. chopped
1/4 stick unsalted butter, cut into pieces
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
4 oz. fresh squid ink pasta

1. Set the butter out to soften. Clean the mussels using a potato scrubber--discard any that are cracked or open. Preheat oven to 450°F.
2. Spread mussels in a 13- by 9-inch baking dish. Blend all remaining ingredients to a paste with a whisk. Spoon mixture over mussels (see first photo). Cover tightly with foil and bake in middle of oven until all mussels are open, 12 to 15 minutes (discard any unopened mussels). Meanwhile, boil a small pot of water.
3. Boil pasta for 1.5-2 minutes. Plate pasta, spoon broth from the mussels over the pasta. Plate mussels on top, and spoon on more broth.

The broth is also delicious mopped up with bread.

Broccoli, two ways.

I was never one of those kids that didn't like broccoli. You've already heard my rant about how much I love brussel sprouts, so I'll spare you that.

Last week I bought two heads of broccoli. It's now almost in season and pretty cheap (if you're buying it off the back of a truck on 13th and Oxford). I ate them two different ways, each easy, cheap and delicious.

The first way you see broccoli is roasted, with shrimp. I don't ordinarily buy real protein--I eat more beans and tofu than I do chicken and fish. But this recipe is a darling of the food blog community (much like no-knead bread)--everyone was making and obsessing over it.

I can understand why. The broccoli gets tender, sweet and deeply flavorful, and the shrimp get cooked perfectly and stay juicy. Oh, and the hardest part is waiting for dinner to be ready.

I halved the recipe, as I was cooking for one, and had plenty for lunch the next day. I also edited the spices a little bit, because I loathe coriander. Watch the quantities in the recipe, not in the ingredient list--most of them get divided. The broccoli also goes in before the shrimp--a point I missed--so I just roasted them for an extra 5 minutes. Everything was fine.

Roasted Broccoli with Shrimp

From The Wednesday Chef

2 pounds broccoli, cut into bite-size florets
4 tablespoons (1/4 cup) extra virgin olive oil
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/8 teaspoon hot chili powder
1 pound large shrimp, shelled and deveined (you can buy them this way at Whole Foods)
1 1/4 teaspoons lemon zest (from 1 large lemon)
Lemon wedges, for serving

1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees. In a large bowl, toss broccoli with 2 tablespoons oil, cumin, 1 teaspoon salt, 1/2 teaspoon pepper and chili powder. In a separate bowl, combine shrimp, remaining 2 tablespoons oil, lemon zest, remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt and remaining 1/2 teaspoon pepper.

2. Spread broccoli in a single layer on a baking sheet. Roast for 10 minutes. Add shrimp to baking sheet and toss with broccoli. Roast, tossing once halfway through, until shrimp are just opaque and broccoli is tender and golden around edges, about 10 minutes more. Serve over rice with lemon wedges, or squeeze lemon juice all over shrimp and broccoli just before serving.


The second offering I have is one that I've made before. I can't find the post, but instead of orecchiette, I used tennis racket shaped pasta and so much cayenne pepper it was barely edible.

I've toned down the recipe since then, but still used cayenne because I lack red pepper flakes.

Spicy Orecchiette with Broccoli
From Martha Stewart's Everyday Food

12 oz. Orecchiette or other short pasta
2 cloves garlic
2 Tb olive oil
1/4 t or less cayenne pepper, or 1/4 to 1/2 t red pepper flakes
1 head broccoli, cut into bite-size florets
1/2 cup good parmesan

1. In a large pot of boiling salted water, cook pasta until al dente. Reserve 1/2 cup pasta water; drain pasta and return to pot.

2. While pasta is cooking, heat oil in a large skillet over medium. Add garlic and cayenne/red-pepper flakes; cook, stirring occasionally, until garlic is golden, 1 to 2 minutes. Add broccoli and 1/2 cup water; season with salt and pepper. Cover and cook until broccoli begins to soften, about 8 minutes. Uncover and continue to cook until water has evaporated and broccoli is crisp-tender, 1 to 2 minutes more.

3. To pasta in pot, add broccoli mixture, Parmesan (reserving some for later), and enough pasta water to create a thin sauce that coats pasta. Serve sprinkled with remaining Parmesan.

This technique is called "pan steaming" which allows you to steam, then caramelize the vegetable afterwards. I use it for brussel sprouts all the time.

Things to look forward to: finished knitting projects, "the quilt", more dessert, meatballs, sweet tea, matzoh, and a love letter to a brownie.

I'm not Italian.

Considering how difficult it was for Matt to pick a birthday dessert, I'm sure you can imagine the difficulty of picking a main dish. He didn't say much, but I remember spaghetti being part of our conversation one day. I don't ever make spaghetti, and certainly not with my own homemade red sauce.

This is because I live with the ultimate critic: Marc Piscitello is Italian. I call his dad "Don Vito". He fries Italian breadcrumbs like his grandma to put on top of pasta.

But here I was, about to feed ten people. As countless church suppers have proven, if you're trying to feed a lot of people easily, make spaghetti. I decided to risk Marc's judgement.

A bottled sauce, of course, would not do. Molly over at Orangette (who just released a book) posted this recipe, which sounded easy enough, ages ago. And how could I not love something with "onions" and "butter" in the title?

And honestly, the sauce was great. But the real winner here are the onions that Molly "discards" at the end of the recipe (I edited that part out...no one should make that mistake). These onions have been simmering in tomatoes for about an hour, getting sweet and melty. They were great with a sprinkling of salt and some Parmesan.

I suppose I should have asked Marc what he thought before I wrote this entry. I know he didn't have anything negative to say that night, so one can infer that didn't not like it. Oh, and Matt did, which I suppose was the important part. It was his birthday after all.

Tomato sauce with Onions and Butter
from Orangette
2 cups whole, peeled, canned plum tomatoes, chopped, with their juices (about one 28-oz. can)
5 Tbsp. unsalted butter
1 medium yellow onion, peeled and cut in quarters
Salt, to taste

Combine the tomatoes, their juices, the butter, and the onion quarters in a medium saucepan. Add a pinch or two of salt. Place over medium heat and bring to a simmer. Cook, uncovered, at a very slow but steady simmer, adjusting the heat as necessary, for about 45 minutes, or until droplets of fat float free from the tomato. Stir occasionally, mashing any large pieces of tomato with the back of a wooden spoon. Taste and salt as needed.

Heart and Soul.

These two photos are probably confusing you right now.

For starters, the first photo certainly doesn't look like the second. The second photo has (!) meat in it, too. What is going on here?

Making stock should be a basic part of any cook's repertoire. It is also extremely expensive to buy. I read somewhere about making stock from a rotisserie chicken--which I knew were sold at Bobby Chez (South, between Broad and 13th) on Sundays for $5. So for $5, I could have both the stock and the meat for a hearty chicken noodle soup.

The rest of the ingredients for stock I already had on hand, mostly because the ingredients for stock are things we would ordinarily throw away. The chicken carcass, onion skins, cheese rinds, unused portions of carrots and celery are really all you need.

I've started collecting stock items in the freezer. I cut the top off a 2 liter soda bottle and started saving onion skins, cheese rinds, root vegetables that were about to go bad...I'll be ready for stock any time.

Chicken Stock

Makes enough for one pot of soup.

Remember, this ingredient list is not absolute. This is just what I used.

1 rotisserie chicken carcass, with some meat/skin left on

2-3 quartered onions, with skins, bottoms and tops lobbed off

3-4 carrots, unpeeled, broken into 4-5 pieces

3-4 celery stalks, with leaves, broken into 4-5 pieces

3-4 cloves of garlic, cut in half

Bay leaf

1 tsp. rosemary

1 tsp. thyme

1/4 tsp. black pepper

1. Add all items to a 4 qt. pot. Cover with cool water. Bring to boil.
2. Reduce the heat to a slow simmer. Let the stock simmer from an 1.5-2 hours. It should reduce to 1 qt. of liquid.
3. Let the liquid cool a bit and then strain using a fine sieve into a container.
4. Refrigerate until ready for use. You can skim the fat once the broth is cool, too.

I'm very particular about my chicken noodle soup. I find the chicken in just about any canned soup too mushy and, dare I say, sketchy looking. That's why I was so excited to get roasted white-meat chicken in this soup, that I myself could pick over and control.

This soup, like stock, is also open to interpretation. I like a lot of vegetables in mine, so my soup probably had even more than listed.

Chicken Noodle Soup
Serves a lot of people.

Stock (recipe above) or 6 cups of your favorite
1 carrot, diced
1 onion, diced
1-2 celery stalks, diced
1-2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 Tb olive oil
Salt and pepper
3/4 box Alphabet noodles (I'm not sure what the proportions would be for another type of noodle...but these are really fun. Hard to drain, but really fun.)
Half the meat from a rotisserie chicken, or one breast, chopped into bite-size pieces

1. In your soup pot, saute the onion, garlic, carrot and celery in olive oil until softened. Season with salt and pepper.
2. Add the stock. Cook at a medium simmer until vegetables have softened, about 20-25 minutes.
3. Meanwhile, cook your pasta to 'al dente' according to package directions. To drain the alphabet noodles, use a fine sieve or a colander lined with a clean, cloth dishtowel.
4. Add the pasta and the chicken. Let simmer for 10 or so minutes, until the chicken is warmed through.

I added more thyme, rosemary, black pepper, and plenty of salt to this, too.

This soup goes great with the pretzel rolls and with the NY Times Bread I'll be showing you next.

Looks can be deceiving.

I have finally decided to post the lentil soup recipe. A good photograph is impossible to take--this Lentil Soup is ugly. Looks can be deceiving. It arguably one of the best soups I've ever eaten and a favorite recipe.

As with most recipes I make time and time again, I tend to remember that first encounter. It is customary to skip the Monday after "musical season" ends, and the Monday after "Fiddler on the Roof" was no exception. I was not in "Fiddler", I was lucky enough to enjoy it (and I truly mean this, one of the best shows I've ever seen). As a thank you and an excuse to get together, I invited a good portion of the cast over for lunch on their Monday off. I made this soup and a Karen Hunter Catering signature salad with pears, walnuts, and Gorgonzola cheese. The meal was hearty and wintry. Like Anatevka.

I made the soup again for a welcome back dinner this fall. I know, I know--it was blazing hot (I was in the kitchen--you don't think I know?). Nothing seems to get the sweat out like a bowl of soup though, besides maybe a curry.

Here, at last, is its latest incarnation. I made a few changes to the recipe, particularly to the broth. Feel free to substitute chicken broth, add different vegetables, and invite a few friends over. It feeds an incredible amount of people.

Lentil Soup

2 tablespoons olive oil, plus extra for drizzling
1 medium onion, chopped
3 carrots, peeled and chopped
3 celery stalks, chopped
2 garlic cloves, chopped
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 (14 1/2-ounce) can diced tomatoes
1 pound lentils (approximately 1 1/4 cups)
4-5 Vegetable Stock Cubes (I like Rapunzel Brand's Sea Salt and Herb)

8 cups water
4 to 6 fresh thyme sprigs (optional)
1/2 box pasta

1 cup shredded Parmesan

Heat the oil in a heavy large pot over medium heat. Add the onion, carrots, and celery. Add the garlic, salt, and pepper and saute until all the vegetables are tender, about 5 to 8 minutes. Add the tomatoes with their juices. Simmer until the juices evaporate a little and the tomatoes break down, stirring occasionally, about 8 minutes. Add the lentils and mix to coat. Add the water, vegetable stock cubes and stir, being sure to break up the cubes.. Add the thyme sprigs if using. Bring to a boil over high heat. Cover and simmer over low heat until the lentils are almost tender, about 30 minutes.
Stir in the pasta. Simmer until the pasta is tender but still firm to the bite, about 8 minutes. Season with salt and pepper, to taste.
Ladle the soup into bowls. Sprinkle with the Parmesan, drizzle with olive oil, and serve with a crusty bread.

The result is more of a stew than a soup, I realize. When reheating, be sure to add a little water. Also, when you stir in the pasta, you may notice there isn't enough water. In this case, add just enough to cover. Try to keep the recommended ratio of cubes to cups of water--you don't want the soup to be too watery.

And don't skimp on that Parmesan, especially if you have the good stuff. It adds a depth of flavor that is in perfect harmony with the heartiness (but not heaviness) of this soup. That Giada may be on to something.

Some things never change.

I used to love Giada DeLaurentis. Then, much like Rachel Ray, she overstayed her welcome. She accumulated several ridiculous television shows no one could bare to watch. We met her husband. She stopped cooking Italian and started cooking "Italian inspired". It was disappointing. So I started watching Ina, the Barefoot Contessa.

Giada still holds a special place in my heart (and stomach) though, simply because of the following recipe (and the lentil soup that Fiddler cast members like so much). I made it for the first time a few summers ago, and two of us barely made a dent. The plan for this batch of Giada's Mac and Cheese was to have a bunch of people eat it. Unfortunately, it took four of us two days to destroy this pan (I think I actually ate it three nights in a row). This Mac and Cheese is rich, heavy, and everything you'd want in a recipe calling for a half pound of Fontina.

Tealye, my sister, just happen to be passing through the weekend I made this. It was perfect

considering Mac and Cheese is her favorite food (surprisingly, she is no longer 10--she just turned 16). I was delighted to present her with this upscale version of her beloved blue box variety, which she really seemed to enjoy.

Some things never change.

Giada's Mac and Cheese

Honestly serves around eight, six if they're hungry.

Butter, for greasing dish
12 ounces wide egg noodles

2 cups heavy cream
2 1/2 cups whole milk
2 teaspoons all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more for pasta water
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 cups (packed) grated Fontina
3/4 cup (packed) finely grated Parmesan
3/4 cup (packed) grated mozzarella

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F.

Butter a 13 by 9-inch glass baking dish and set aside. Cook the noodles in a large pot of boiling salted water until tender but still firm to bite, stirring frequently, about 5 minutes. Drain well, but do not rinse.

Whisk the cream, milk, flour, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and pepper in large bowl to blend (season this dish well!). Stir in 1 cup Fontina, 1/2 cup Parmesan, and 1/2 cup mozzarella. Add the noodles and toss to coat (you can also do as I did and pour the mixture over the noodles and stir it around). Transfer the noodle mixture to the prepared baking dish. Toss the remaining 1 cup Fontina, 1/4 cup Parmesan, and 1/4 cup mozzarella in a small bowl to blend. Sprinkle the cheese mixture over the noodle mixture (I uh...forgot that part, which is probably why mine isn't that pretty).

Bake until the sauce bubbles and the cheese melts and begins to brown on top, about 20 minutes. Let stand for 10 minutes before serving (the standing is really important here, and if not for the melted cheese's sake, then for your tongue's).

And because I now have the seminary reading my blog:

BEAUTY HONES

So many tears behind these words.

Love hones like that--

perfects and

purifies

the

gift.

St. Thomas Aquinas

(1225-1274)

Noodle Nests.

So tonight I ventured into unknown territory.

Let me preface this by saying I love Indian and Thai food--more than I can say, really. One of my favorite things to do on a Saturday is go to Reading Terminal Market, buy myself a plate of Chika Masala and a back issue of Gourmet, and have some "me time" ("me time" also usually includes a stop at Rosie's and H&M, just to be clear). Also, one of my fondest memories of this summer was when we deposited the large Indian food warmer in my apartment living room (empty, of course) and I came back and the entire apartment smelled like Indian food. I was overjoyed. I have never slept better. India keeps creeping into my life, too. Last semester I read "The Namesake" (which I'd recommend--its a quick read) and this semester my Development and Globalization class is focused on Indian development.

I had a block of tofu in my fridge for about a week and after seeing Heidi's Slurp-tastic Noodles, I knew what had to be done. I bought a can of red curry paste just out of curiosity and thought it might be fun to search for the spinach noodles. The above was what I came up with, after improperly mixing the coconut milk and deciding green onions were enough herb for me. I have to say-- I was not disappointed.

The best thing about this dish had to be the color. Here was this creamy orange broth with flecks of herb, almost sweet with a serious kick, and bright green noodles.

The noodles also came in a flat box in little nests--little noodle nests. How adorable.

Top Chef has returned and I felt inspired to experiment later this evening, with some peanut butter apple frozen yogurt. I made a brown sugar simple syrup, which may have been a wrong move, as the syrup is likely to turn icy. I'm also not a huge fan of frozen yogurt to begin with, I think its too tangy unless you pair it with an acidic fruit, so this was a leap of faith.

Speaking of faith, it has been awhile since we heard a witticism from an early Christian mystic:

(This is one of my favorites and, especially as I continue to study eschatology, a great comfort)

I WILL JUST SAY THIS

We

bloomed in Spring.

Our bodies

are the leaves of God.

The apparent seasons of life and death

our eyes can suffer;

but our souls, dear, I will just say this forthright:

they are God

Himself,

we will never perish

unless He

does.

St. Teresa of Avila

(1515-1582)

Jumping the gun.

End of Summer Vegetable Soup. Not the best photo ever, but just about as the leftovers were about to go in the fridge.

Sometimes I do things backwards. I couldn't wait for fall to get here, jumping on the apple pie as soon as the Fair Trade Farmstand had apples. Keep in mind, there was still 80 degree heat, and I slaved away in the kitchen wishing for the leaves to change and cider to be widely available. So about a week later, this past Wednesday, I made a soup with some leftover cabbage, potatoes and white beans. 101Cookbooks led me to the recipe, and while a bit bland (Parmesan cheese helped immensely), it seemed the perfect soup to curl up with during an early February snowfall. Rustic Cabbage Soup was all about the staples, though. Onions, white beans, potatoes, and cabbage and vegetable stock cubes (which I was so impressed with--I had never used one before) are all things you can find all year round. I'll have to bookmark this one for later.

For this season, however, I have found a perfect solution. I treated myself to "Everyday Food" (a Martha publication, naturally) yesterday and included was this recipe for End of Summer Vegetable Soup. It elicited two helpings from my RA who stopped by to drop off a bowl from the cookies I made our floor last week, so I suppose it was pretty good.

End of Summer Vegetable Soup

Serves about six, or 4 hungry boys with one helping of leftovers. Would serve more with a crusty bread on the side.

2 Tbs. EVOO
1 medium onion, chopped

2-3 celery stalks

1 clove garlic

2 cans vegetable or chicken broth (I used chicken, but added a vegetable stock cube in with the water)

2 cups water

8 ounces green beans
1 can diced tomatoes

2 zucchini, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced (I used my mandoline slicer...of course)

1 cup and a handful rotelle, or whatever pasta you have on hand

1. Sautee the onion in the bottom of the pan over medium heat, using the EVOO. Season well.

2. Add the garlic, minced, and the celery, chopped well. Let 'em sweat it out for about five minutes.

3. Remove the stem ends from the green beans and cut them into thirds. Slice the zukes.

4. Add the broth, two cups of water, and (though this is not what I did, probably a good idea) the canned tomatoes (I think the extra heat will help break them down). Bring to a boil.

5. Add zukes, green beans, and pasta. Simmer until the pasta is cooked and the vegetables have softened up a little bit.

I hit the mark yesterday too, with a grilled ham and swiss on homemade wheat with mustard and caramelized onions. I'm not going to include a recipe with this because I think y'all are smart enough to figure this out--make bread, slice, caramelize onions with EVOO, pile with ham, swiss, and onions, slather one side of bread with dijon mustard, slather outsides of the bread with margarine, grill over medium heat until golden brown.

I did, in fact, break out the bread machine for this. But I know for a fact WholeFoods has a lot of good options.

I just finished baking up my first batch of banana muffins this year. I am oddly disappointed--they seem a little flat and I think I may have short-changed the flour by half a cup. I've only messed up muffins one other time in my life, but I can't complain.

Fresh out of the oven, these are awful good with vanilla ice cream.

Matt reminded me of this one today, which is ironic and funny (as is the poem):

MAYBE IT WILL BECOME CHIC

I was invited

to an important conference

where many learned men from different countries

were all going to address the topic:

Where is God?

I was wearing my best clothes and had even fasted for a week,

hoping to help sharpen my mind. Just before I was to leave though,

I felt powerfully drawn to a little shrine in my bedroom,

and I went there and knelt to pray.

I could not believe what happened:

Kali threw her arms around me and started tearing at my clothes,

and she started throwing delicious food into my mouth,

purposely missing several times it seems,

thus soiling my pundit attire;

and then she made me perform many times as if I were her

husband; then she said, "Now Kabir, don't be late for that big talk,

and don't change your clothes--I love that love-stained look;

maybe it will become chic?"

I arrived just as it was my turn to stand before this august crowd,

and apologized for my appearance.

"Where is God?" the head of the conference says to me.

"Well (well, I stammered) if you really want to know the truth--if

you hurry--you might catch Her legs still spread

back at my

pad."

Kabir (1440-1518)