If you have ever had the gnudi at The Spotted Pig here in NYC, you don’t need me to tell you how face-melting delicious it is. The name comes from the Italian for “naked” because the pillowy little nuggets of ricotta are like ravioli with their prudish pasta pants torn off. When you bathe these little guys in brown butter and crispy sage (and maybe some crispy pancetta like I remember having at the restaurant a few years ago), you are left with (or maybe only I am left with) other similes that are both snicker-worthy and confusing. But mostly delicious.
I found a recipe with step-by-step photos along with an explanation of the important secret step in making gnudi the way The Spotted Pig does. I think the only thing missing in the recipe is salt; I had to sprinkle some on at the end, but next time I’ll just add it to the cheese mixture. And while it is hard to stray from the combination of brown butter and sage, I can’t help but think about these cheesy little dumplings soaking up a bit of rich, meaty sauce.
Radicchio is bitter. SO bitter. And John and I do ok with bitter (black coffee, the hoppiest IPAs imaginable, bitter melon when it’s drowned in some kind of spicy garlicky sauce). But this Treviso radicchio from our CSA was too much. I tried marinating and broiling it with vinegar and garlic, which smelled fantastic but was un-swallowable.
I consulted Chowhound (one of the best resources out there for my cooking woes) and found out that soaking the leaves in ice water for at least 30 minutes subdues much of the bitterness. Someone also suggested “throwing other strong flavors at it: blue cheese, apples, walnuts, and balsamic vinaigrette.” A lovely idea for a pizza. Next time, I’m thinkin’ smoked mozzarella or olives. But I’ll probably just make this pizza again.
Order of layers: pizza dough, mozzarella, thinly sliced apples, ribbons of radicchio (I used a very conservative amount, but next time there will be more), gorgonzola cheese. Bake at 500 degrees for around 20 minutes, or until it looks done (because we all know what pizza is supposed to look like). Top with toasted walnuts (or just add un-toasted walnuts during the last couple minutes of baking).
Goodbye summer (vacation), hello graduate school. I’m savoring the last of the season’s summer produce while I attempt to keep up with all my weekly reading so I don’t feel like a complete doofus in class. These free-form tarts were fun to make, even though it is tempting for me to get all kinds of OCD with the arrangement of the vegetable/fruit pieces. I made a savory ricotta one (followed Smitten Kitchen’s recipe, minus egg glaze and with the addition of tomatoes, and my basil was purple) and a sweet one with some mediocre fruit that I couldn’t stand to waste but also couldn’t stand to eat on its own (same crust as the savory one, with a honey-ricotta mixture, peaches, and sliced almonds were added but not photographed at the end). I also kind of over-filled them, so the crust wasn’t as folded-over. Leftovers were excellent snacks on a 6-hour flight to Tab and Christine’s beautiful and fun-filled wedding (congrats guys!).
Back in January (which feels like a crazy long time ago), John and I spent a week in San Francisco catching up with old friends and repeatedly overfeeding ourselves at places like Tartine, Bi-Rite, Humphry Slocombe, Chow, and the Mission (yes, the entire neighborhood). During one of our visits to Tartine, I had a slice of a moist, savory olive and ham bready loafy thing, enjoyed it, then returned to the East Coast. Months later, the New York Times told me it was a cake salé (“kek”… c’est drôle), a category of French quick breads that are ultra-portable and go well with summery wines. Um, yes please.
The accompanying New York Times recipe is pretty solid. I used leeks (the white and light green parts from 2 medium ones, chopped and gently browned in a little bit of butter and olive oil) instead of ham, but the combination of cheese and cured meat and onion-tasting things is enough of an excuse to make this again with all three add-ins. I don’t really understand how this stuff is supposed to be shared at picnics (or anywhere, for that matter) because I could easily eat an entire loaf on my own.
Summer produce feels like the greatest thing in the world right now. Especially the way it smells. Every morning I stick my head into a bag of peaches and take a big whiff before slicing one up into my breakfast. Our CSA basil is so good that you can smell it halfway down the block from the pickup site (a church. an indoor church). And I love picking the stems off of tomatoes and sniffing them, because their scent reminds me of my grandparents’ old house.
I don’t have any good/fun/creative ideas or recipes for peaches (or fruit in general, really) because when we get some good ones, things like cake batter and ice cream only seem to get in the way. The tomatoes (especially the cherry tomatoes) have also been good enough to eat on their own. Still, I find myself eating the same thing for lunch everyday: simple tomato and cheese sandwiches. It’s hard to go wrong when you put tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, and a good smear of homemade basil pesto between two slices of bread.
Or how about a buttery-ass grilled cheddar and gouda sandwich with yellow and red tomatoes? This combo never ever ever gets old.
Ok fine, I had one of each of these today. I hope you’re all as in love with tomatoes as I am right now.
I love cinnamon rolls, but I thought I’d improvise and make use of a lonely block of cream cheese whose bagel friends had already been eaten. And it’s like 100 degrees outside, so of course I felt like ripping the battery out of the smoke detector and cranking up the oven.
These little buns weren’t yeasty and gooey the way my favorite cinnamon rolls are. Instead, they were fluffy and biscuit-y and oh god do I love buttermilk in baked goods. A perfect accompaniment to yummy kiwi jam made by Jocelyn, Ashwin, and Hayes.
To make the filling, I combined 8 ounces of cream cheese (softened at room temperature) with 3 tablespoons of sugar, 1/8 teaspoon of salt, and a little bit of lemon zest.
For the dough, I followed this recipe from Cook’s Illustrated (favorite food magazine by the way, thanks Mom!), swapped in my cream cheese filling for the brown sugar cinnamon mixture, and omitted the glaze. I am currently fantasizing about a savory, cheddar-crusted version of these pull-apart rolls. Hang on to your pants people, it’s gonna be good.
I’m back, I’m married, and I’m not ashamed to say that I have the greatest friends and family (including husband, whoa) in the world. Thanks to them, I had a blast. Best day of my life so far.
Now that we’ve returned, we’re back to the usual cooking and cleaning and working and studying. Not as fun as planning the biggest party of my life, but it feels good to settle back in.
explanation of what is in that photo above, and how to make it:
sliced not-too-dense, not-too-soft bread (I used a baguette)
extra virgin olive oil
fresh ricotta cheese
lemon zest
fresh or frozen edamame, shelled and cooked in boiling salted water
for the dressing:
6 garlic scapes (found at CSAs and farmers markets)
2 handfuls of cilantro (basil would’ve been good too)
2-3 tablespoons of fresh lemon juice
salt and black pepper
3-4 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil
Toast bread in the oven or toaster oven until barely browned. Drizzle on some olive oil.
Combine ricotta with lemon zest. Smear on each slice of bread.
To make the dressing, combine garlic scapes, cilantro, lemon juice, salt, and pepper in a food processor until finely chopped. Drizzle in olive oil. Add dressing to edamame. Top crostini with edamame. Finish with a sprinkle of salt.
You’re looking at cheddar, emmental, onion jam, baby arugula, and sliced apples piled in between slices of whole wheat bread. It was one of those fridge-cleaner meals with leftover odds and ends. A little bit messy, a lot delicious.
Here are my tips for how to make a decent grilled cheese sandwich:
- Let the butter soften to room temperature before slathering it all over the bread.
- Don’t use bread that is too thick; if you insulate your sandwich fillings, they’re not going to melt.
- Have some cheese touching each slice of bread. It’s like a savory glue that holds your sandwich together.
- Season veggie fillings (tomatoes, greens, etc.) with salt and pepper.
- Use low heat and put a lid on on the pan. Your patience will result in a buttery crunchy exterior and a hot gooey interior.
- Prevent sogginess! When the sandwich is ready to serve, put the “cold” side (the side that wasn’t touching the pan last) down on the plate, so that your sandwich doesn’t soak in condensation.
