This, my friends, was the view from my car window on the drive down from Seattle to the Bay Area. Remember when I promised photos from the coast road and a recipe for Christmas morning? Well that was quickly absorbed by a very different kind of trip than we’d originally expected. A snowier trip and a much less scenic one (as we had to take an alternate route), although one filled with ample memories and cups of gas station hot chocolate. I didn’t expect for the blog to be silent during the holiday week, but sometimes you can’t control these things. So I sincerely hope that you had a wonderful, restful time with family and friends and are slowly getting back into the swing of things.
This year, we spent a lot of time at home with family instead of rushing around to visit various new spots around San Francisco. We did a little cookie baking, visited Sam’s favorite record store in the Haight and saw many old friends. We drank martinis, endured a period of holiday rain of the likes I haven’t seen in years, and snuck out when the rain finally let up to run or walk the neighborhood. We had a lazy pajama-cloaked Christmas morning complete with numerous cups of coffee and a team-effort eggs benedict on toasty bagels smeared with avocado. I’m reluctant to head back but also love the feeling of a new year and looking ahead towards all that it may bring. Maybe on our drive back, I’ll actually get to snap a few coast photos. Cross your fingers! In the meantime, I wanted to share just a handful of favorite recipes from 2012 on the chance you’ve got time and are inspired to cook this week. I’ll see you back here very soon, feeling newly inspired and refreshed after such a nice break from our often busy day-to-day life back in Seattle.
Talk about the perfect brothy soup for this very moment — after rich holiday foods and Christmas cookies, this is what I’m craving right now.
Finally, the coveted recipe from Sam’s family. This is his go-to at many of our dinner parties — Bay Area and Seattle friends can attest to this. They’re best cooked up in a cast-iron pan to order. You’ll find, if they’re not already, friends and family will gather in the kitchen and wait eagerly for them.
It doesn’t get much simpler or satisfying than this: warm ricotta baked up with seasonal herbs and a few eggs — with a handful of salty capers thrown in at the end. Made for crusty bread-dipping, afternoon snacking, or light lunching.
To cap it all off, one of my favorite, humble loaf cakes of the year. There were a few, to be sure, but this one relies on whole-grain flours, yogurt, and olive oil — at once substantial and light. A season-less charmer.
It turns out that returning from a sunny honeymoon to a rather rainy, dark stretch of Seattle fall hasn't been the easiest transition. Sam and I have been struggling a little to find our groove with work projects and even simple routines like cooking meals for one another and getting out of the easy daily ruts that can happen to us all. When we were traveling, we made some new vows to each other -- ways we can keep the fall and winter from feeling a bit gloomy, as tends to happen at a certain point living in the Pacific Northwest (for me, at least): from weekly wine tastings at our neighborhood wine shop to going on more lake walks. And I suppose that's one of the most energizing and invigorating parts about travel, isn't it? The opposite of the daily rut: the constant newness and discovery around every corner. One of my favorite small moments in Italy took place at a cafe in Naples when I accidentally ordered the wrong pastry and, instead, was brought this funny looking cousin of a croissant. We had a wonderfully sunny little table with strong cappuccino, and, disappointed by my lack of ordering prowess, I tried the ugly pastry only to discover my new favorite treat of all time (and the only one I can't pronounce): the sfogliatelle. I couldn't stop talking about this pastry, its thick flaky layers wrapped around a light, citrus-flecked sweet ricotta filling. It was like nothing I'd ever tried -- the perfect marriage of interesting textures and flavors. I became a woman obsessed. I began to see them displayed on every street corner; I researched their origin back at the hotel room, and started to look up recipes for how to recreate them at home. And the reason for the fascination was obviously that they were delicious. But even more: I'm so immersed in the food writing world that I rarely get a chance to discover a dish or a restaurant on my own without hearing tell of it first. And while a long way away from that Italian cafe, I had a similar feeling this week as I scanned the pages of Alice Medrich's new book, Flavor Flours, and baked up a loaf of her beautiful fall pumpkin loaf: Discovery, newness, delight!
I always force myself to wait until after Halloween to start thinking much about holiday pies or, really, future holidays in general. But this year I cheated a bit, tempted heavily by the lure of a warmly-spiced sweet potato pie that I used to make back when I baked pies for a living in the Bay Area (way back when). We seem to always have sweet potatoes around as they're one of Oliver's favorite foods, and when I roast them for his lunch I've been wishing I could turn them into a silky pie instead. So the other day I reserved part of the sweet potatoes for me. For a pie that I've made hundreds of times in the past, this time reimagined with fragrant brown butter, sweetened solely with maple syrup, and baked into a flaky kamut crust. We haven't started talking about the Thanksgiving menu yet this year, but I know one thing for sure: this sweet potato pie will make an appearance.
This time last week I was up in the Skagit River Valley sitting in the early fall sun eating wood-fired bagels and chatting with farmers, millers and bakers at the Kneading Conference West. I made homemade soba noodles, learned the ins and outs of sourdough starters, and sat in on a session where we tasted crackers baked with single varietal wheats. It was like wine tasting, but with wheat and the whole time I kept pinching myself, thinking: THESE ARE MY PEOPLE! I don't get the opportunity to be a student much these days -- usually on the other side of things teaching cooking classes or educating people at the farmers markets about whole grains and natural sugars. So to just sit and listen with a fresh (red!) notebook and a new pen was surprisingly refreshing. I miss it already. Thankfully, this cookie recipe has come back as a memorable souvenir, and one that is sure to be in high rotation in our house in the coming months.
Strolling New York City streets during the height of fall when all the leaves are changing and golden light glints off the brownstone windows. This is what I envisioned when I bought tickets to attend my cousin's September wedding earlier this month: Sam and I would extend the trip for a good day or two so we could experience a little bit of fall in the city. We'd finally eat at Prune and have scones and coffee at Buvette, as we always do. Sam wanted to take me to Russ and Daughters, and we'd try to sneak in a new bakery or ice cream shop for good measure. Well, as some of you likely know, my thinking on the weather was premature. New York City fall had yet to descend and, instead, we ambled around the city in a mix of humidity and rain. When we returned home I found myself excited about the crisp evening air, and the fact that the tree across the street had turned a rusty shade of amber. It was time to do a little baking.
I am writing this on Saturday afternoon on a day when we had big plans to conquer pre-baby chore lists, but Sam's not feeling great and my energy's a little low so it hasn't been quite what we'd envisioned. My goals for the morning were to repot a house plant and make some soup and I've done neither. I will say that the sweet potato and fennel are still sitting on the counter eagerly awaiting their Big Moment -- it just hasn't come about quite yet. Sam and I were both going to attempt to install the carseat, but it started to look really daunting so we abandoned ship; it's now sitting proudly in the basement, also eagerly awaiting its Big Moment. So it's been one of those weekends -- the kind you look back on and wonder what it is you actually accomplished. At the very least, I get the chance to tell you about this hearty cranberry cornbread. I know maybe it feels premature in the season for cranberry recipes, but hang with me here: slathered with a little soft butter and runny honey, there's nothing I'd rather eat right now on the cool, crisp Seattle mornings we've been having lately.