epic BLT

What do you think this might be for?



Oh that's right, it's a big, greasy BLT, loaded with so many toppings that you have to eat it with a knife and fork.



I wanted to make a BLT with my food co-op tomatoes, and I also wanted to use some avocado. California must have had quite a bumper crop this summer, because even here in New York they were unusually cheap and delicious this year.

I don't know why I even bothered to google making a BLT, but I am glad that I did, because Thomas Keller's recipe gave me the brilliant idea of adding melted cheese and a fried egg. Leave it to a world class chef to come up with a bacon egg and cheese/BLT/grilled cheese combo. An unholy alliance of all things fatty and delicious, this was one epic sandwich.



I may not be a world class chef, but I have to say that I think I did Keller one better with the addition of avocado. And in a further stroke of genius, I also tossed on some caramelized onions. If I had had time, I would have even made the mayonnaise from scratch, but Hellman's did just fine.



I think it's safe to say that there's not much you could do to make this sandwich more delicious, and making this during the day allowed me to get actual good photos with natural light! Imagine that!



Yeah, that's the money shot.

plum compote with vanilla ice cream and fresh whipped cream

plum compote

I don't know about you, but one of the things I miss most about summer is stone fruit. There's nothing better than sinking your teeth into a ripe, juicy peach, plum or nectarine. Of course, that makes a mushy or flavorless specimen all the more disappointing. I love a good plum, but since they are often fairly tart, it's harder to find a really delicious one.

Back in September, we got a bunch of slightly tart but nice little plums. They weren't quite sweet enough on their own for my taste, so I baked some of them into a cake. After a couple of days, the remaining plums started to get a little overripe an squishy. I couldn't let them go to the waste so this is what I came up with: a compote.


boozy plum compote with fresh whipped cream over vanilla ice cream

I think this is a compote, anyway. Basically, I just chopped up the plums and added a little sugar, a dash of cinnamon and a glug of my vanilla bean rum. Then I let it bubble away for 15 or so minutes until it got all stewed and syrupy delicious.

I may have made it a tad too sweet, but it was still incredibly delicious hot from the pot, served over vanilla ice cream with fresh whipped cream. I have to admit I ate this compote all by myself, but I bet it would make a pretty impressive and totally easy dessert for company. I know it'll be a while before plums are in season again, so maybe that's not the most helpful suggestion. Perhaps you could try apples? Maybe I'll test it out. Based on my track record you should expect a blog post in about two months.

colcannon mashed potatoes

cabbage and mashed potato colcannon

Wow, I could use a break from this whole "writing a blog post every day thing" already, and its only the 8th. I have a feeling it is going to be a long month. Today I read an interesting article about the growing popularization of vegetables, which are no longer considered second class citizens in a meat eater's world. Between my diet being dictated by my injury and the epic veggie share at the CSA, I've become much less dependent on meat in my own diet, so I found it an interesting read.

In fact, the last couple of posts, in conjunction with today's, represent a great meatless dinner I put together for Laura and Nathan back in September. Luscious, tender leeks in vinaigrette, nutty and peppery romesco sauce, and creamy crunchy colcannon potatoes. It was a pan-European meal, what with the French leeks, Mediterranean romesco and Irish cabbage and potatoes. It was also extremely filling and satisfying without any meat or even cheese. If I had thickened my mashed potatoes without milk and butter, it would have even been vegan! I know I know, this is scaring me too.

But seriously, what with the horrible state of livestock farming in this country, it's obviously good for each of us to scale our meat intake down a little bit. Feed lots are a huge health problem in our world, not to mention totally disgusting and rife with animal cruelty. I know it's easy to get blindsided by a carnivorous love for meat, but I'm here to tell you that it's possible to cook such delicious food that you won't even miss your daily steak or pork chop. I know Nathan still raves about this meatless meal months later, and if that's not a ringing endorsement, I don't know what is.

I made the colcannon based on this recipe. I had never heard of colcannon, but basically all it is is mashed potatoes mixed with some boiled kale or cabbage , onion and parsley that has been seasoned and dressed with some lemon juice and olive oil. The author used kale, but mentioned that cabbage was also traditional. There was a big head of CSA cabbage in the fridge, so that's what went in. It was a nice variation on plain mashed potatoes and quite delicious.


Irish mashed potatoes

Together with the leeks and romesco sauce, the colcannon made for a very hearty and filling meal. We wanted for nothing. Not even a little meat.

romesco sauce

romesco sauce

My CSA went through a month and a half long stretch where it gave us at least 3 peppers a week, and sometimes as many as 5 or 6. Peppers are good, and we did get a nice variety of them, but it didn't take me long to run out of ideas for cooking peppers:

I really like roasted red peppers, but since I still don't have the courage to try canning (maybe next year!), there's only so many of them I can eat, even with Nathan doing his part. Pepperonata is one of my favorite recipe discoveries of 2010, but I got a little tired of that as well. Of course, peppers are a key ingredient in ratatouille, but I only got eggplant from the co-op once this summer, and the zucchini supply ended surprisingly early. With the bounty of vegetables in my fridge, I wasn't going to buy even more just to use up a pepper or two. Many a time, I resorted to throwing them into a variety of soups, with varying degrees of success. Peppers don't present quite as much of a challenge as say, kale, but I was still struggling to use them all up.

That's why I was excited when I found this recipe for romesco sauce. Red pepper is the star ingredient, but it uses tomatoes too, which the food co-op was also giving us a lot of at the time. (Actually, we were still getting tomatoes as recently as Thursday, but we're shifting to a biweekly pick up schedule, so I'm certain that was the last of them. Which is sad.)

This was really easy to make. I roasted a red pepper over the gas stove, and peeled and seeded it. I pulverized some almonds in the blender, and then added some day-old bread, garlic, a couple of tomatoes, olive oil and salt. It also called for a chili pepper, but I think I used part of a jalapeno pepper. I also substituted balsamic vinegar for the suggested sherry variety. It came together in a flash, to a nice, thick, dip-like consistency.


red pepper romesco

This was definitely very different from my usual fare. Nathan really liked it. Laura and I were a little unsure. There was something about it that I found slightly strange, but not completely off putting. The almonds added a nice nuttiness, but I think that maybe they, combined with the bread, kind of subdued the brightness of the red pepper and tomato too much? I was glad that I tried this and happy to eat it, but I wasn't so won over that I'd make it again.

Still, it beats another generic red pepper infused soup, right?


mystery soup

I'm going through my Flickr account and I swear to god I don't even know what this one is made of– it might not even have peppers in it. But the good news is, if I don't remember it, I don't have to blog it, right? One more dish to check off the list!

leeks vinaigrette

leeks vinaigrette

When I went out to Bellport on Labor Day there was a lot of food that I still couldn't eat. Juicy grilled steak was out of the picture, as was most other meat. One of the things I could eat, however, was melted leeks with onions. I don't know what Helen did to them, but the end result was a sweet, mellow leek relish that was so delicious I had to restrain myself from taking far more than my share. As long as I had a pile of leeks on my plate, I wasn't missing that meat.

Not long after that, I saw this recipe on orangette and it called out to me. I needed some leek goodness and I needed it now. As luck would have it, they were on sale in a bunch of three down at the Wild Olive Market at 125th street, so I snapped them up. (Fancy stuff like leeks doesn't often make it above 96th street.)


leeks with hard boiled eggs

Aside from cleaning the leeks, which is a surprisingly time consuming process, and struggling to fit the long leeks in the pot to boil them, this was a cinch to make. You simply boil the leeks until they are tender and falling apart, which takes about ten minutes, and then drain them, squeezing out excess water. Then you serve them with a vinaigrette of minced shallots, mustard, olive oil and white vinegar. I used a nice grainy mustard in the dressing and served those babies with a couple hard boiled eggs.

It was surprisingly rich and decadent for such a simple dish. Nathan and I both loved the soft, tender leeks and the tangy dressing. It's not often that he is willing to put a vegetable center stage as the main course, but this dish was a major exception. He was very impressed, and so was I. These are delicious!

pumpkin ice cream

creamy, boozy, pumpkin ice cream

I would like to start by apologizing for this utterly unappetizing photo. There is, however, a story behind it.

When I invited Hannah and Lauren over for dinner, the plan was to end our evening with some freshly churned pumpkin ice cream. Hannah had been diagnosed with chronic myelogenous leukemia in August, and after a month of heavy treatment she was feeling well enough to make it into the city for the weekend. I'd told her about my shiny new ice cream machine and promised to make her whatever flavor she wanted. I was excited when she chose pumpkin. Of course, that meant I had to buy canned pumpkin, which, believe it or not, was simply no where to be found in my two neighborhood grocery stores!

Therefore, our dinner went on as scheduled, but we sadly postponed pumpkin ice cream. Luckily, Hannah didn't have to wait too long– it debuted to great acclaim the following evening, when Grace threw a small party in Hannah's honor. Ms Spangler set out a big taco bar with all the fixins and your choice of chicken, pork carnitas and ground beef. She made all that from scratch plus Mexican corn with lime, mayo, cheese and chili powder. I wish I had taken pictures because it was such a sight to see. It was quite a feast, and I only wish my jaw had been in better working order at the time so as to more fully enjoy everything.

When looking for a pumpkin ice cream recipe, I turned first to The Perfect Scoop, aka the ice cream bible. Disappointingly, I came up empty-handed. One "pumpkin ice cream," google search later and it quickly became apparent that I was not the only one mourning its exclusion. The very first hit was from the author David Lebovitz's blog, where he thoughtfully provided this recipe.

Once I procured the necessary pumpkin, I proceeded to follow the recipe almost exactly as written. Unlike Rick Bayless's corn ice cream, which used a double boiler to make the custard, Lebovitz's instructions call for whisking the eggs in a bowl and then slowly adding the heated milk/cream/sugar/spice mixture to it. Then you pour all of that back into the pot and stir over a low flame until the custard thickens.

I don't know if maybe I just don't really understand what a thickened egg custard should look like or what, but just as I did with the corn ice cream, I had problems. This time, not only was it not thickening, but it actually kept curdling, the egg separating from the cream and turning all grainy and gross. However, I took a tip from my friend Megan, and popped in my immersion blender whenever that happened. This brought everything back together just fine, but after the third cycle of abortive thickening, accidentally curdling and scrambling to blend it back together, I gave up and moved on.

I added brown sugar and transferred the custard to an ice bath, adding the pumpkin puree. At the point the recipe called for a half teaspoon of vanilla extract and two teaspoons of rum or brandy. Instead, I used my vanilla bean infused rum, adding quite a bit more than the recipe called for. I figured it would make it extra creamy and delicious, since it would keep the ice cream from freezing as hard. I was right, but in this particular case this did cause some issues.

Once everyone had eaten their fill, I pulled out my carefully transported pumpkin ice cream from the freezer for dessert. It was lucky that this event took place on September 11th, rather than August 11th. As you can see, it got kind of soft and melty, on its trip downtown. It probably never froze all the way to begin with, and having it out on the train didn't help matters at all. Even an hour or so to recover in Grace's freezer made no noticeable difference. I can only imagine how soupy it would have been if I had attempted to travel with it in the middle of New York's oppressively hot summer of 2010.

Of course, even slightly melted ice cream can be delicious, and this one was no exception. I was shocked I had made something so rich, creamy and wonderful! This was a very, very good batch of ice cream. It wasn't too aggressively pumpkiny, but it was smooth and decadently delicious with a hint of fall spices. Hannah, you picked a winner!

I haven't broken out the ice cream maker since, and this will certainly be a tough act to follow. Hopefully, next time around I can conquer the custard!

corn pepper soup/tomato paella

Here's more of what I did with my late summer corn:


corn pepper soup

I made this back in September on a Friday night. Lauren and Hannah came over for dinner and I made this soup. I used homemade chicken stock and lots of corn, pepper and onions. I sauteed the peppers and onions, added the corn and stock and let it all simmer. I blended it all up and topped it off with a hefty sprinkling of cilantro and freshly cracked pepper.

I have to say that while I like both corn and peppers, I had been getting tons and tons of them from the co-op at that point in time. I think I must have been pretty sick of them because I don't really remember that much about this soup. It was sweet and peppery, but at the time it just wasn't the most inspiring flavor combination. Whether I was sick of those particular veggies, I didn't showcase them to their best advantage, or if it just wasn't to my taste, this soup was still relatively tasty and markedly better than the other component of the meal.

I also made Mark Bittman's tomato paella. The way the blogosphere tells it, this summer tomato recipe is just divine. Crispy arborio rice, juicy ripe tomatoes and a rich yellow color from a few precious strands of saffron. All the flair of a fancy seafood paella, minus a great deal of work and expense. Sounds like a story that guarantees a happy ending, no?


Mark Bittman's tomato paella

Well I have a different tale to tell. One of dry, chewy rice, overly herbaceous tomatoes and saffron that was sadly completely undetectable. It didn't taste bad, persay, but either I am way out of step with the online foodie commmunity, or something went really really wrong with this recipe. I totally wanted to love it, but it was a total flop.

Although it was great having Hannah and Lauren over for dinner, I think I owe them a more inspiring dinner!

broccoli rabe with oil and garlic/fresh tomato sauce

broccoli rabe

This is simple Italian comfort food at its best. I will admit that the slight bitterness of broccoli rabe can be off-putting, and that it was years before I warmed to it. But now, slick with garlicy olive oil, sauteed broccoli rabe is one of the simplest and easiest things in the world.

This dish only has a handful of ingredients: the broccoli rabe, olive oil and garlic, plus salt and pepper and an optional sprinkling of grated cheese. Making it is a snap. Just get the olive oil nice and hot, toss in the chopped garlic, and then the broccoli rabe. It should still be dripping wet from being washed, so when you cover the pan it steams without burning. You cook it for maybe 8 to 10 minutes, until the leaves wilt and the stems soften. Once it's cooked through, season with salt and pepper and enjoy!


broccoli rabe with pasta in tomato sauce

Broccoli rabe is so hearty and filling that I like to make it a substantial part of the meal. In this particular instance, I just served it with a fresh tomato sauce over tiny pasta shells. I sprinkled both of them with romano cheese. It was straight-up simple Italian food, and it was really good. This is the kind of meal that isn't overly impressive or exciting, but that I am always happy to eat. Salty, garlicy, slightly bitter goodness.

sour cream corn pancakes

stack of pancake deliciousness

If you don't like pancakes then you don't have a soul. Period. I'm sorry, but that's just what I believe. Straight up Catholic doctrine right there.

But seriously folks, what could be better than piping hot pancakes, thin and crisp with a soft interior? Those babies don't even have to be fluffy, as long as they are buttery and soaking in real maple syrup. Dee-licious.


corn pancakes with extra butter and syrup

Back in early September, I made these corn pancakes with the last of my summer corn. The recipe was very simple, as any reasonable pancake recipe is. There are wet ingredients, (egg, buttermilk, sourcream and vanilla extract), mixed with dry ingredients, (flour, sugar, salt, cornmeal, baking soda and baking powder). Stir until just combined, and then cook over medium high heat in a greased frying pan. Pretty standard fare. The only thing that makes this recipe a little bit different is the addition of corn kernels, which are sauteed briefly in butter before being stirred into the batter, giving the finished product an unusual crunch. (Of course, at the time I couldn't chew, so I more or less swallowed them whole!)

These were good pancakes, and I liked them. They were a bit on the thicker side, but they were tender and soft inside with a crisp butter-browned exterior. In other words, they came out just right. They weren't too sweet, and tasted great with a generous maple syrup splash.


dissecting pancake deliciousness

As for the corn kernels, the corn that I used was sweet and delicious, so it was a pretty good addition to a very tasty batter. In retrospect, however, I don't think I'd like to have corn kernels in my pancakes more than occasionally. I mean, it was an interesting and tasty twist on a classic dish, but it just wasn't good enough to warrant their inclusion on a regular basis. Even though they were sugary sweet, those corn kernels still seemed slightly vegetabley, which is a little disconcerting in maple syrup coated pancakes. At the time, I was very pleased with how these turned out, but I'm not exactly jonesing for another batch.

Basically, I made these because I was looking to find a good use for all that food co-op corn. As it turns out, corn pancakes are a fine pancake variety. They are not God's gift to pancakes, and they do not necessarily improve them, but they are definitely pretty good. I mean, hello, they are pancakes. (As I said before, if you don't love pancakes, there is clearly something wrong with you.) So what I'm saying is that I'd encourage you to try this recipe only if you have tons of delicious corn. Otherwise, regular variety pancakes will probably serve just as well.

dimply plum cake: homely but delicious

the famous dimply plum cake

Geeze. If you want a real idea of how infrequently I've been blogging lately, consider this: I baked this cake on September 3th. It is now November 1st, and New York has seen the temperatures dip into the thirties as the days begin to get shorter and shorter. September already seems like long ago, but try to remember to way back then: it was the Friday of Labor Day weekend. The East Coast was prepped for a massive hurricane set to put a major damper on the holiday. I had spent the afternoon at the hospital for my jaw's grand reopening. Though this was very exciting, it was also somewhat of a painful process. The wires had been drilled through my gums to hold the arch bars in place, so pulling them out required lots of novocain and left my gums inflamed and sore.

Even though they had replaced the wires clamping my teeth shut with more forgiving rubber bands a week and a half before, my jaw was still fragile and weak, which precluded me from eating all but the softest foods. Regardless, I was excited to be on the mend and free of the unslightly metal braces for the first time in over 5 weeks. I was looking forward to spending the weekend out on Long Island with Nathan's family and my own, and to putting my injury behind me.

I like to be a good house guest, so I spent that Friday night baking this dimply plum cake for Nathan's step-mom's friends Liz and Harry, who were kind enough to invite us to their home.


smooshed plum cake

I know that is one shockingly ugly cake. I foolishly wrapped it up in foil for easy transit before it cooled, so it steamed in the wrapper and the top turned into an unsightly sticky mess. Of course, we don't eat cake because it looks good– we eat cake because of the way it tastes. This cake, a recipe by Dorie Greenspan, is an internet sensation, so my expectations were high. The cake was less sweet than most, but pleasantly so, and was nice and moist from the large chunks of fruit. I was happy to use so many of my food co-op plums to make it, and I liked the hint of cinnamon flavor. It was a good dessert to usher in fall with the last of summer's stone fruit. Very seasonal, but not actually the most inspiring dessert you've ever eaten.

As luck would have it, the over-hyped Earl stayed off shore and the weather held up beautifully. We went swimming, took a motorboat out to Fire Island and foraged for beach plums on Saturday before heading north to Northport and spending Sunday sailing in the bay with my Dad. As for the food, I obviously missed out on all the grilled steak and corn on the cob at dinner, but Nathan's step-mom Patricia and step-sister Helen made sure there was plenty of soft and juicy salmon for me to enjoy.

Dessert was even easier, as cakes and pies can easily be mashed up into easily swallowed spoonfuls. With my wires gone, eating the same plate of dessert as everyone else, I was finally able to forget about my broken jaw and begin to enjoy food again. Based on taste alone, dimply plum cake may not have been the revelation I hoped for. I imagine that there are other plum based desserts that are just as good, if not better, even if their names aren't as cute. That being said, it was still delicious. Everyone else told me they liked it, but to me, at that point in time, dimply plum cake tasted like hope.