Pasqua, a love letter.

Sparkling strawberry lemonade and peach iced tea.  Artichokes, marinated mozzarella, olives with feta, and grissini.  Cucumber salad and deviled eggs.  Grilled eggplant, zucchini, and peppers.  Lamb chops, rosemary chicken skewers, and hickory-smoked spareribs with homemade barbecue sauce.  Strawberry-rhubarb pie with fresh whipped cream and a glass of ice-cold limoncello.  A solid week of planning, shopping, and cleaning.  And sweet friends to share the day with, as we celebrate this loveliest of seasons.

four and twenty.

Pie has always been that thing that I wanted to learn how to make but just couldn’t muster up the courage to try. Is that weird? A lot of people make pies. A lot of people make really good pies. I just wasn’t sure I could be one of them.

I think it’s because my mom makes really great pies, but even she’s made a few that haven’t turned out well. I’ve seen her frustrated with crusts that fall apart or fillings that don’t quite set. And I think, if it’s so hard for her — with her years of knowledge and experience — why should I even bother? I can make a lot of other great desserts, and maybe pie should just be that one food I can only get when I go home.

But here’s the thing: I don’t get to go home very often anymore. And when I do, my mom isn’t exactly rushing into the kitchen to whip up a pie in my honor. The only time she really makes pie, at least when I’m home, is at Thanksgiving. And I can’t live with just one pie a year! Besides, I think it’s important not to let our family traditions die out because we’re too intimidated to try doing something that someone else does better. Tragically, this happened in my grandfather’s family, with his mother’s famous sky-high icebox dinner rolls. I’ve finally gotten my hands on the recipe, but I wish Great-Grammy was still around to answer all of my questions about kneading and shaping. How the dough should look and feel in your hands. How they smell when they’re just perfectly done. None of the instructions in my Great-Aunt Katherine’s handwriting are very clear, except for the last one: “Don’t eat too many!”

So Thursday, when Flavio surprised me with a little pie bird for my half-birthday, I knew it was time to finally roll up my sleeves and make a pie.

Let me tell you, I was so scared making this thing. And I had a meltdown once I got the top crust on because it came out so wonky and off-center. Regardless of what the recipe suggests, I will never again cut the shapes out of the top crust until after it’s on the pie! But I knew going into this that pie-making has a learning curve, so I don’t know why I was so disappointed at my perceived failures. Bottom line: it tastes really stinking good.

A note about the recipe: This is from the “Cooking Class: How to Make a Pie” article in the April/May 2012 issue of Cook’s Country. The crust, which uses vodka to inhibit gluten formation, was buttery, crisp, and flaky. It will be my go-to double-crust pastry recipe. But the blueberry filling? Meh. It tastes ok, it set up great (not gummy, but not weepy either), but I’ve got two main gripes. 1) I hate the addition of grated Granny Smith apple. The texture of it is really off-putting to me. 2) The flavor is a bit one note. I miss a warm spice, like cinnamon. I ended up making some cinnamon whipped cream to go with the pie, but it’s not quite the same as having it in the pie.

And the pie bird? Adorable. Worked like a charm! No sagging crust and no bubble-overs! Sort of want one in every color. And I can’t wait to use it again. I’m thinking there might be a strawberry-rhubarb pie in my near future…

all the things!

Oh man, I feel like I’ve spent this entire weekend in the kitchen.  And, well, I guess I pretty much have.  I’m so tired, but it’s been worth it.

On Friday, I made a loaf of English muffin bread from the April/May issue of Cook’s Country.  I cut the recipe in half, although now I’m wishing I hadn’t because our little loaf is almost gone!  For dinner we had a feast of garlicky mussels and parmesan oven fries.

Saturday morning, after cleaning up the kitchen from the previous night’s mess, I made a lemon poppy seed angel food cake.  I’m still not happy with how my angel food cakes are turning out.  The crumb is inconsistent, and they’re not quite as tall as they should be.  And the lemon glaze I made for this one was way too thin.  But these are nit-picky, technical problems, and the bottom line is that the cake tastes really good.  I’m sure it will be gone by the middle of the week.

I’ve never been one to get really into St. Patrick’s day, beyond wearing green, but this year I went all out and made corned beef, braised bacon cabbage, and boiled potatoes for dinner.  And, of course, beer (Irish red ale).  Today I turned the leftovers into a pretty tasty corned beef hash, which we ate with some of the English muffin bread for lunch.

Of course, when I saw “English muffin bread,” my mind immediately went to eggs Benedict.  It’s my favorite egg dish, probably because I only get to eat it on the rare occasion that we go out for breakfast.  I butter-toasted some fat slices of the bread under the broiler, quickly fried up a few slices of Canadian bacon, poached some eggs, and topped it all off with some hollandaise (made from a mix–I’m not completely crazy).

The final thing I made this weekend was probably the most successful–Nigella Lawson’s recipe for brown bread from How to be a Domestic Goddess.  The recipe uses a mixture of bread flour, whole wheat flour, and rye flour.  I haven’t gotten a chance to taste it yet, because it’s still cooling, but if the smell wafting my way while it was in the oven is any indication…  Well, I probably should’ve made two loaves of this bread, as well.

And don’t worry guys…after this three day binge, we’re eating a big fat salad for dinner tonight.

Stuffed Artichokes {ricetta della Mamma}

Late February through early April is probably my favorite time of year.  The drizzly spring rain.  The delicate little buds that start to appear on every tree.  French music lazily dribbling out of my stereo.  But my favorite thing about this time of year is the food.  It seems like lemons, shallots, and fresh herbs find their way into every recipe I make.  And I’m constantly seeking out recipes for the eggs, asparagus, and artichokes that I crave.

When my friend Sara recently posted this recipe for a citrusy tilapia cooked in parchment, I knew I had to make it.  And when we found the beautiful small artichokes of early spring at the grocery store this weekend, it seemed only natural to put the two together.

This recipe is from Flavio’s mother, with a few additions on my part.

Stuffed Artichokes {Carciofi Ripieni}

• 2 medium-sized artichokes
• 1/2 an onion
• 2-3 cloves of garlic
• 1/2 c. flat-leaf parsley
• 1 tbsp. seasoned breadcrumbs
• 1 tsp. grated lemon zest
• salt & pepper, to taste
• olive oil

Cut off the stem and top quarter of the artichoke.  Rinse well and spread the leaves apart to “open” the artichoke a little bit.  Using a food processor or mezzaluna, mince together the onion, garlic, and parsley to make a paste.  Stir together with breadcrumbs, lemon zest, salt, and pepper.  Stuff filling between most of the artichoke leaves, but be careful not to overstuff.  Set artichokes stem-side down in a steamer basket set over simmering water.  Drizzle tops of artichokes with olive oil, cover, and steam until tender in the middle (about 45 minutes).

Never had a fresh artichoke?  To eat one, snap off the leaves one by one and scrape “meat” off by pulling the leaf between your teeth.  When you get to the center, cut out the hairy choke and eat the tender heart.

pancake saturday!

It’s pancake Saturday!  I’ve got a homemade dry mix (similar to the boxed mixes I grew up on) stored in the freezer, and whenever I want pancakes I just have to scoop some out and mix it with eggs and buttermilk (or clabbered milk, which is regular milk thickened with acid–because I refuse to buy buttermilk unless it’s marked down because it’s about to expire OR I actually need the whole pint, which is rare).

Yesterday I got a copy of The Perfect Scoop, by David Lebovitz, and I can’t wait to try some (ok, ALL) of his recipes.  I feel like I’ve learned so much about making ice cream just from the first couple of flip-throughs.  BUT–it’s 14 degrees outside right now, and that’s a little too cold for making ice cream–even for me.  So I’ll be spending the afternoon making a café au lait angel food cake instead (and saving some of the egg yolks to make ice cream when the weather warms up later this week!).

I hope you all have a sweet, wonderful Valentine’s weekend.  ♥

pink.

At the end of last week, I caught my husband’s cold.  I spent all weekend attached to a box of tissues (I went through 3 of them!), and I’m just now starting to feel better.  I got a lot of knitting done, though.  I’ve finished 4 projects already this year…amazing!

This weekend I finished knitting this little sweater, Andalusia [rav link].  Most of the projects I’ve finished this year have been baby sweaters.  I do love knitting them…they’re so quick, and so cute, and I weave all of my love & prayers for a baby into every stitch.

I did take a break from knitting on Saturday to try out my new ice cream maker.  I made the custard-style vanilla bean ice cream recipe from the booklet that came with the machine.  So good!!  And the texture is beautiful…creamy, soft but scoop-able…just dreamy.  So cooling on my scratchy sore throat.

I’m hoping to be back to my old self tomorrow, although the cough will probably linger for another week.  I’ve run out of knitting projects, and I’m tired of sitting around the house–I’m too tempted to eat ALL THE ICE CREAM!

comfort.

I had big plans for this weekend.  I was going to bake a cake and braise some lamb shanks.  I was going to get all of my errands done on Friday.  But none of these things happened.

Friday was cold and rainy, and a quick trip to my LYS took an hour because I was racked with indecision over what my next project should be.  My passion for knitting has waned since I learned how to embroider, but lately I’ve been itching to play with woolly things.  Maybe it’s because everyone I know is having a baby.  More likely, it’s because I was hoping to have a baby too.

But I’m not.  We tried really hard this month, but I took a test yesterday, and I’m not.  So yesterday was a bad day for me, and nothing got done.  I spent all day knitting.  Knitting for myself.  Taking comfort in the rhythm of the soft gray wool looping around the smooth bamboo needles.  Taking comfort in the sweet little kitty curled up by my side.  Taking comfort in the steady, loving presence of my husband.  He’s carried me through this disappointment before, several times over the past two years.  He’ll probably have to carry me through it again.  And again and again.  But someday we’ll be parents, and I know that all of this waiting and all of this disappointment will have been worth it.

Today is a new day.  No more tears, no more broken heart.  My slippers are done, and they’re so cozy.  No time to bake a cake or braise lamb shanks, but maybe I can make some mocha pudding and chicken florentine.