Grape and Gorgonzola Pizza

Last Friday night T and I had a date with my parents and sister at Zupan's yearly champagne gala. No one knows why we keep getting invited; we don't know anyone else present, and only my father buys champagne. But we go, because you can taste as many glasses of fancy champagne as you like and there's a phenomenal oyster bar, along with other delicacies like smoked scallops and manchego with quince paste. Besides, it's fun to dress to the nines and then watch all the trophy wives struggle to remain upright against the weight of their diamonds.

But the party begins late, and by 6:30pm our stomachs were growling. We wanted something satisfying, but fast and light enough to brook a 10pm oyster splurge. And that's how our grape and gorgonzola pizza was born.

I love the combination of of sweet and savory on pizza, and often bake pizzas with pears or figs and crumbles of sharp cheese, or slivers of prosciutto. I make these pizzas with an olive oil base, lightly rubbed with garlic, and then drizzle the toppings with more olive oil and large sea salt crystals. I love a good tomato-sauce and cheese pizza, too, but those tend to be heavier, and T and I are locked in a permanent pepperoni vs sausage debate that nearly always results in Canadian bacon. Last Friday all we wanted was a snack, something to add substance to a green salad. A quick trip to the store yielded red grapes on sale, a tiny wedge of raw gorgonzola, and premade pizza dough. (I know, LAZY.) I thought the high heat from the oven would wilt the grapes and make the strong cheese run a bit, permeating the crust with pungent salt and sweet juice.

It did. The grapes do release a little more juice than is desirable, but you can always pre-roast them to prevent the juices from running all over the top of the baked pizza. As with all pizzas, make sure not to overburden this one with toppings. A healthy smattering will do. Reducing the number of toppings to 2-3 helps you to taste each one individually as you eat, which also allows you to appreciate how they combine to create new, complex flavors. Go easy on the cheese, too; while not a delicate foodstuff, you don't want your pizza to be a gut-bomb.

Grape & Gorgonzola Pizza

1 batch homemade or store-bought pizza dough

1 clove garlic, peeled and halved

healthy handful of red or concord grapes, halved

healthy handful crumbled strong blue or gorgonzola cheese

smaller handful of good-quality Parmesan

extra-virgin olive oil

sea salt

Balsamic vinegar (I used white)

• Preheat oven to 500 degrees. If you have a baking stone, put it into the oven now so that it can thoroughly warm up.
• Roll your homemade or store-bought dough into a large circle. The thickness of the crust is up to you--I like them on the thin side, because I enjoy the toasty flavor of caramelized flour.
• Prick the dough all over with a fork to encourage it to remain flat.
• Rub the surface of the dough with raw garlic and then spread a thin layer of olive oil on top.
• Scatter the top with grape halves and gorgonzola crumbles.
• Sprinkle Parmesan cheese over the toppings, and add a few sprinkles of coarse salt.
• Drizzle a small amount of olive oil over the top, followed by an even smaller drizzle of balsamic vinegar.
• Bake pizza for 8-10 minutes, or until golden brown and bubbly. Cool slightly and enjoy.

Warm Bread

T passed his national and Oregon boards today! Which means, of course, that he's out celebrating with the other soon-to-be doctors, and the wives are at home doing...whatever it is we all do when left to our own devices. Or at least I'm at home. Drinking rum. Watching romantic independent films. Baking bread.

Now that the CSA box is coming to an end, and with it the weekly free loaf of Grand Central bread, there's flour in the kitchen crevices again, and the sleeve ends of my house sweaters are caked in dough. (Oh, don't grimace. I do launder them. Occasionally.) This is homely bread--you can see the giant crack in the loaf above--but it's soft and tender, and very convenient. I mix a big batch, store it in the fridge for days, tear off a piece and let a loaf rise in the evening for a late baking. It's not as precise or professional as the breads I make with the Merry Bakers, but it's good and the house smells divine. Plus, a warm slice of bread is perfect for sopping up the rum before bedtime. And the tears, if that movie's kind of sad.

The Humble Loaf
adapted from Artisan Bread in 5 Minutes a Day

6 1/2 C flour: 3 1/2 C white and 3 C white whole wheat
2 C warm water
1 C warm milk
1 1/2 packets of yeast
1 1/2 T coarse salt
a handful of sesame seeds (optional)

1. In the bowl of your standing mixer, combine the yeast and warm liquids. You can let sit until frothy, or proceed--as I do--with no regard for that chemical process.
2. Add the 6 1/2 C flour, the 1 1/2 T salt, and the sesame seeds, if using. Stir with the paddle attachment (or by hand) until integrated.
3. Do not knead! Once the flour and liquids are well-mixed, top the bowl with some plastic wrap and set aside to rise for a few hours. You'll know it's done when the the dough has risen and fallen into a large, flat-topped mound.
4. At this point, stick your dough in the fridge for up to 2 weeks, or bake a loaf immediately. The chilled dough is easier to work with, and gains more flavor the longer it ferments in the fridge.
5. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees at least 20 minutes before baking. (If the dough is cold, pull off a loaf-sized chunk--1-2 lbs--and shape it and put it into a greased loaf pan to come to room temperature...around 1 hr and 40 minutes.)
6. Place the loaf pan in the hot oven and bake for 35-45 minutes, The loaf should be risen and golden, with a firm crust and corners. When tapped, the bottom should feel hollow. If it doesn't, or the corners seem soft, remove the loaf from the pan and stick back into the oven for 5-10 minutes.
7. Let cool completely before slicing for optimal crumb.

Beans and Freedom

Those two words, analyzed from a global socio-political perspective, can be seen as opposites. After all, and I don't mean to be glib here, impoverished people the world over eat legumes while their political leaders misdirect foreign and domestic capital to their pleasure yachts. But for me, beans are a symbol of a smaller freedom, the personal sort, because they're one of the first things I cooked when I moved into my own apartment; dried beans are the graduate student's Platonic ideal of dinner because they're cheap, you feel hip shopping the bulk bins, and a big pot of beans yields an incomprehensible number of meals.

Tonight, however, beans are synonymous with neither the third world (I'm beginning to suspect that analogy is tasteless, no pun intended) nor my college days. Tonight I happened to meet with my book group to discuss Jonathan Franzen's new novel Freedom and then came home, realized there's no lunch for tomorrow, and threw together a black bean, butternut squash and kale stem (yes, stem) stew in the crockpot. I hope it's good. If it is, I'll post the recipe.

You might want to read Freedom. It's very good, and that's coming from someone who'd thrown Jonathan Franzen into the detested Jonathan Safran-Foer Over-Rated Writers Club. A.k.a. Authors Who Write About Things They Know Not Club. A.k.a. You Tricky Little Man, I Read Yet Another Of Your Novels And It Took Me Until The End To Realize What A Senseless Dodo You Are AGAIN Club. You get the picture. I don't like Foer's gushy sentimentalism or Franzen's condescending "oh I'm so not the elitist white liberal I am (but if you're not like me, you must be a hillbilly)" subtext. But I liked this book a lot.

Maybe because Franzen owns and explores liberal pretensions (while obviously fantasizing about being a rock star). Though I think the book is much more about the true limits of the American freedom concept, applied to romantic and familial relationships. We had a really nice discussion, which included the female readers' fascination with the rock star and the male readers' attraction to Connie. It was fun. I spend so much time sticking labels on books and reading papers about "the Islams" and terrorism (no joke) that I sometimes feel my brain cells holding tiny hands over tiny ears, mouths wide and howling. I enjoy having an outlet for my under-stimulated brain.

So here's to beans and Freedom. May the stew be as tasty as the reading!

Meeskite Soup

There's a sweet song in the musical Cabaret called, "Meeskite," about two ugly parents who give birth to the most beautiful baby their shtetl has ever seen.

That's a lot like this soup.

Lumpy, frizzy-skinned celeriac meets knobby, chin-haired jerusalem artichoke to produce a smooth, voluptuous soup with a complex herbal flavor and wonderful, yogurty tang. You would never guess that such unappealing roots could soften into rich knobs of earthiness; these are simple vegetables that only need a bit of heat and fat to turn into treasures.



You could leave out the bacon and make this vegetarian, but why would you? The bacon flavor really comes through to provide a lovely smokiness that sits very well with the sour yogurt. All you need to finish this soup off is some chopped greens for garnish (any greens you like: I used spicy, raw salad greens, but kale or savoy cabbage, lightly wilted and seasoned, would do well).


Meeskite Soup, or Celeriac Soup with Jerusalem Artichoke and Bacon


Olive oil

2 celeriac roots, peeled and chopped into 1-in cubes

1/2 lb jerusalem artichokes, roasted and cooled (optional, but so worth it)

1/2 C chopped shallots

2 slices thick applewood bacon, chopped

5-6 C organic chicken broth

1/4-1/3 C whole fat plain yogurt

seasoning to taste

greens for garnish (optional)



1. Roast the jerusalem artichokes, first cutting big roots into small pieces. Toss the raw jerusalem artichokes in oilve oil, coarse salt, pepper, a pinch of dried lemongrass and some red chili flakes. Roast at 425 degrees F for about 20 minutes, until tender. Set aside to cool.

2. Heat olive oil in a medium-sized pot over medium heat and add bacon. Sautee until bacon softens and add shallots. Sautee gently until shallots are soft and translucent (5-10 minutes).

3. Add celeriac to pan. Cover vegetables with a wet piece of parchment paper, put the lid on, and lower heat. Gently steam vegetables for ten minutes.

5. Remove parchment paper. Add artichokes and broth to pot and bring to a simmer. Reduce heat and simmer for 20 minutes, or until veggies are tender. Remove from heat and cool.

6. Blend soup in cuisinart or with an immersion blender until smooth and creamy.

7. Add yogurt and blend until integrated. It's important that the soup be cool-ish, or the yogurt may curdle.

8. Reheat gently, adjusting for salt and pepper. Add extra broth if the soup is too thick.

9. Top with optional garnish and enjoy!

Molly's friend Glenn's Banana Bread with Bittersweet Chocolate and Crystallized Ginger

Hungry yet? I'll admit the lighting for this photo isn't ideal, but trust me when I say that this bread turned out perfectly: moist but light, with each bite a flavor blast of humble banana, dark chocolate and crystallized ginger. It's not too rich or sweet to eat for breakfast, but it would also make a lovely dessert, plain or with whipped cream and an espresso.

I've been making banana bread for years, ever since I went to college and decided to try the old Wendy Gordon Bake a Banana Bread and Find a Mate for Life trick. (Banana bread is how my parents fell in love. In our family, banana bread baking is synonymous with serious monogamy.) I didn't find my mate in college (in fact, in an odd turn of events, my first serious boyfriend baked me a banana bread), but I do make my mom's banana bread relatively frequently for T, and like to think that each loaf is a little dose of love potion.

What I like best about my mom's recipe is its focus on the banana. She uses canola oil instead of butter, which yields a wonderfully moist and banana-y taste without the distracting richness of butter-based breads. She also uses brown sugar and plenty of cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger. When we were little she would make one plain loaf and one with chocolate chips, and that second loaf would maybe last two days, with each of us savoring the slightly sticky top and the banana flecked crumbs.

The bread I made last night is a fusion between Molly Wizenberg's, which I read about in her book A Homemade Life, and my mom's tried and true recipe. I swapped the butter for oil and the sugar for brown, and added a bit of vanilla extract to the batter. Otherwise, it's exactly as written on Orangette and it is perfect.

Bake some for your lover. Or...bake it, open the window and see who strolls by.

Winter Squash with Bacon-Walnut Pangrattato

When I opened my CSA tote last week and lifted out the enormous green squash of indeterminate title (let's call it the Hulk), several thoughts ran through my head, all delicious:

Squash soup with lots of fried sage leaves
Squash and black bean stew

Squash risotto with parmesan pangrattato and amaretti cookie crumbs

Two loaves of squash bread with dark chocolate slivers

But life gets busy and the best laid plans--lazy, slowly-stirred risotto, for instance--get shoved aside for quicker meals that fill us up and get us on to the next activity. And even though 5 nights out of 7 you'll find me munching an impromptu salad and some melted cheese and veggies on toast, alone on the couch with a book or even worse, Netflix, musing moodily on my students, I really do prefer exciting tastes and lovingly prepared dinners with multiple dishes. Which is why I decided to make something simple yet special for dinner tonight:

Steamed, mashed squash with a crunchy pangratatto of bread crumbs, crisped bacon, fried sage, ground walnuts, and parmesan spread over the top and rendered extra crunchy over the broiler.

I got the idea from Jamie Oliver's Cook with Jamie, which boasts some incredible, easy vegetable recipes. His version involves boiling butternut squash, cubing and frying it, and then serving a parmesan pangrattato with fried squash seeds on the side, for people to spoon over their forkfuls. My squash, steamed all day in the slow-cooker, was too mushy for Jamie's approach, and I was longing for something more substantial, too, like a mash with the richer accents of bacon and walnuts.

Make sure to save the seeds from your squash to either fry and add to the topping, or toast with sea salt, paprika and the smallest bit of cocoa for a great snack and salad topping. You can also choose to keep the squash skin on--especially for tender varieties like butternut--as it is sweet and difficult to separate from the flesh once cooked. (You can easily peel a butternut squash prior to cooking, though.) One last note: the pangrattato can be used as a poultry stuffing or a flavor blast for a squash risotto. It's also really tasty on its own, when all the flavors meld and the parmesan starts to melt and crisp and clump the bread crumbs in the nicest way possible...I finally had to kick T out of the kitchen in order to have enough for the squash.

This recipe yielded a creamy, sweet, salty, crunchy dinner, perfect with our brown rice and apple-fennel-cabbage salad. It also made enough leftovers for lunch, which makes going to work tomorrow almost enjoyable.

Winter Squash with Bacon-Walnut Pangrattato

Steam, bake or boil a butternut or other sweet winter squash.

Scoop out the seeds (save for toasting) and either remove the flesh and mash or cut the flesh into bite-size chunks.

Season the squash liberally with salt and pepper and place in a 8x8 baking dish (or whatever meets your squash volume needs).

While the squash cooks, prepare the pangrattato:

Blend 1-2 C breadcrumbs (I used homemade bread and didn't measure) with a big handful of raw walnuts until fairly fine.

Chop 3-4 slices thick bacon and saute until crisp. Add a handful of chopped sage and cook for 1 minute.

Add the breadcrumb-walnut mixture to the pan and toss to coat. Add a nice glug of olive oil and a few dashes of balsamic vinegar to the pan and mix well. Let it become toasty and golden. At the end, toss in a handful of good quality parmesan, mix, and turn off the burner. The residual heat will allow the cheese to melt and crisp up without burning. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Preheat the broiler.

Spread pangrattato onto squash and broil for around 3 minutes, until crispy but not burnt.

Enjoy on its own or as a side, and happy fall!

Kaua'i, Hawaii and a Gluten-Free Chocolate Marmalade Cake

T and I got back last night from our honeymoon trip to Kaua'i, Hawaii. It was our first trip to Hawaii and our first vacation in seven years, so needless to say we were chomping at the bit for a week alone on a coast where the water is actually swimmable.

We weren't disappointed.

Everything you hear about Hawaii--that it's paradise, that the water is warm and aqua, that flurries of colorful fish swim just below the surface in shallow reefs (that they share with giant sea turtles!) and coral--it's all true. The picture above is from a hike we took on the Na Pali coastline on the north side of the island. The hike was muddy and rigorous, taking us over the sea cliffs and into a guava jungle to a 100 ft waterfall with a cold, deep pool. (Where no one was nude--it just looks that way.)

T taught me to snorkle, which was fun after I stopped hyperventilating. We swam and snorkeled in the calm waters of Ke'e Beach and Anini Beach on the north side, on the very slightly rougher (and my favorite) Po'ipu Beach on the southeast of the island--where on the same afternoon a monk seal crawled onto the beach to nap in the sun and a giant sea turtle hauled herself on shore to lay her eggs--and we waded in the body-slamming surf at Barking Sands Beach, on the western shore.

Other than fresh fish, the food on Kaua'i wasn't exciting. We found ourselves missing home-cooked meals and fresh vegetables, but the ahi tuna was deep red and buttery and the fruit was unbelievable. If you go, economize by eating ahi poke, avocados, and any fresh fruit you can find. I was particularly taken with dragon fruit, if only for its name and unique appearance.

And drink mai thais. The late afternoon we discovered the $3 mai thais at the poolside bar was a drunken, sweet and happy one.

T's favorite day was when we took a boat up the Na Pali coastline, stopping to snorkel and cheering on the spinner dolphins as they leaped alongside us. My favorite was our second visit to Po'ipu Beach, when we exhausted ourselves snorkeling and then lay in the shade of a palm tree, reading, sunning, and watching the chickens.

I suppose catching a wild chicken would be another bright way to economize. They're everywhere, and the roosters, while beautiful, lose some appeal during their customary 4am salute to the dawn.

If the snorkeling, wildlife, mountain valleys and bright blue ocean doesn't do it for you, then go to Kaua'i for the flowers. This is plumeria, my favorite, for its rich scent and waxy white petals.

But for those of you with a more wintry mind, or for whom the words "Hawaii" and "vacation" elicit feelings of bitterness, longing or despair, try this chocolate marmalade cake. Rich, with a light crumb, sticky, ridiculously easy and gluten-free.

Chocolate Marmalade Cake (adapted from Nigella Lawson's Feast)

• 10-14 ounces marmalade (pick your poison)
• 6 eggs
• 2 C almond meal
• 1/2 C cocoa powder
• 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 1 heaping tsp baking powder
• 1 C light brown sugar, not packed
• a pinch of salt
• a handful or two of bittersweet chocolate chips or shards

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Butter and line an 8-inch springform pan. In a bowl or food processor, combine all of the ingredients above until smooth. Pour into prepared pan and bake for around an hour (mine took about 70 minutes). You'll want to check after 45 minutes to make sure the top isn't burning--if it is, simply cover the top loosely with aluminum foil and continue baking until a cake tester comes out mostly clean. (A few fudgy crumbs clinging to the tester are fine--better to under cook slightly than to dry the cake out.)

Cool completely in the pan before slicing and serving. Enjoy alone, with barely sweetened whipped cream, with a liquored whipped cream (orange liquor or maybe brandy or rum), or ice cream.