Call me crazy, but I like my guacamole smooth and simple. My favorite guacamole recipe belongs to my younger son Weston. He makes it slowly, delicately, painstakingly at the kitchen counter, gradually adding fresh lemon juice, sea salt and pepper. Sometimes it takes him half an hour to get the balance of rich avocado and sharp acid just to his liking. I get impatient and try to hurry him so I can get dinner on the table, but he ignores me. And then he eats the whole bowl, so I can't complain. Avocado, after all, is a superfood, and I do like his crystal-clear skin and shiny hair.
Sometimes I want a little more personality in my guacamole, though, which is why I made this version with fresh green garlic for some friends a few weeks ago. Green garlic, which looks like an overgrown scallion, is the young garlic plant, harvested before the bulb swells and hardens. You use the whole thing, green leaves and all. It's milder than bulb garlic, but it's still definitely garlic. A stalk of that, a few beautiful ripe California avocados, a bunch of cilantro, lemon, salt. Whip it in the food processor and it turns out almost fluffy.
Chips are fine, but I've taken to serving guacamole with thinly sliced rounds of daikon radish lately. The cool, crisp radish and the creamy avocado like each other a lot. And it's a guilt-free cocktail snack that won't ruin your appetite for whatever's next.
Also known as "This is what happens when you're working at home and you get an unexpected conference call" apricot jam.
My home office is at the other end of the house from the kitchen. I didn't see or smell the jam boiling over until it was too late. I salvaged what I could.
On the up side, the jam had an unusual, deep, beautiful color (russet? auburn?). I had never seen apricot jam like this. And the flavor was complex, almost a little smoky, unlike any other apricot jam I'd tasted. I've discovered that this caramelized apricot jam pairs beautifully with almond butter, and it's fabulous with a ripe brie - the slightly burnt sugars give it some really unusual overtones.
On the down side, it took a week of soaking, several wads of steel wool, and the elbow grease of three people to get the pot and the stove clean.
Great jam. I highly recommend it. But prepare yourself for the cleanup.
Even absent-minded cooks can make good jam. It's not burned. It's caramelized.
Ingredients
1 pound fresh apricots, pitted and chopped
2 cups granulated sugar
Instructions
In a heavy saucepan, combine the apricots and the sugar, and stir to combine. Let the fruit sit an hour at room temperature, stirring once or twice to redistribute the sugar. The sugar will draw the juices out of the fruit and create a syrup.Put the pot over medium heat and bring the apricot mixture to a boil. Turn down the heat and continue to cook at a simmer about 1 hour, or until the jam has turned a deep rust color and you can feel some burned bits sticking to the bottom of the pan when you draw a spoon through it. Let the jam cool a bit, then transfer it to a clean jar or plastic container. Store in the refrigerator and use within 1 month. As soon as you remove the jam from the saucepan, soak the pan in hot water. You may have to soak it for a few days. You'll definitely need some steel wool to get rid of all the burned-on bits.
Once a month a group of food bloggers gets together in Los Angeles. We call ourselves FBLA (Food Bloggers Los Angeles - okay, we're not super creative) and usually meet at someone's house. We gab, ask each other for advice, and then settle into a circle to talk about a specific topic: how to boost our traffic, food photography tips, how to work with PR people, how to translate food blogging into making money, etc.
We do potluck, and we bring our cameras. Everyone makes something from his or her blog, and everyone else takes pictures of it. It's a great chance to write about someone else's food for a change, and we always have lots of interesting flavors on the table.
Last month Nancy Eisman, who writes the blog Adventures with Nancy Rose, brought a few cases of exotic produce from Melissa's, the gourmet produce distributor she works with. Each of us took a little of this, a little of that. I was fascinated by the black radishes, which I'd never seen before. Sliced raw, it tasted more like a turnip than a radish. Truthfully, it was a little too strong and woody for me.
But after the food bloggers left I did a little research and discovered that black radishes are a) popular in Russia and France, b) often grated raw and mixed into salads or yogurt, or b) cooked. I particularly liked the slice-thinly-and-roast treatment I found on Chocolate and Zucchini, a food blog I read regularly (mostly because she's French - that gives her a lot of food cred with me). A bit of olive oil, a little while in a hot oven, and these black radish chips were out of this world. And beautiful to look at, too - black edges, white flesh, beautiful wagon-wheel pattern.
Most root vegetables work well with this method, including beets, turnips, parsnips, carrots and kohlrabi. Don't overdo the oil and be generous with the salt.
Black radishes have a strong, turnip-like flavor that lends lots of character to these oven-roasted chips. Look for black radishes in gourmet produce shops.
Ingredients
1 pound black radishes
2 Tbsp olive oil
salt and pepper to taste
Instructions
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.Scrub the black radishes well, then slice them thinly (a mandoline works best). Toss them in a bowl with the olive oil and salt so that all the slices are coated. Spread the radish slices in a single layer on two baking sheets.Bake the radish chips about 20 minutes, until they are brown in spots and getting dry and crisp. Remove from the baking sheets and sprinkle on more salt if desired. Serve immediately.
Details
Prep time: Cook time: Total time: Yield: 4 servings
I am in love with my little Magic Bullet blender. It's easy to clean. It has a very small footprint, which means it lives neatly on my counter nestled next to the mini-chopper and the coffee grinder. It holds just enough for one or two servings - portion control! And did I mention it's easy to clean?
On the down side, it's not the most powerful blender in the world. But for a smoothie, really, how powerful does it have to be? I'm not looking to liquefy the world, just a little overripe fruit. It works for me.
I know most people like yogurt in smoothies, that creamy-smooth-tangy background behind the fruit. Personally, I prefer the cleaner taste of juice-based smoothies. (I make an exception for banana chocolate "milkshake" smoothies, which take the concept of creamy-smooth to another level entirely.)
Can it still be called a smoothie without milk or yogurt? Should it be called a juicie or a blendie or a fruitie? Whatever. You need a little liquid to get things going.
My liquid of choice these days is Cherries by Nature's tart cherry juice concentrate. It's thick like syrup, with no added sugar. It tastes like cherry pie. And that's how this smoothie got its name. Is there actually pie in that glass? No, of course not. But with a few tablespoons of this concentrated tart cherry juice in the blender with sweet cherries, peach and watermelon, you think "cherry pie" with every sip.
Thanks to Cherries by Nature for the free sample of tart cherry juice concentrate. The Magic Bullet endorsement is entirely unsolicited and uncompensated.
Father #1: My dad, who's been gone two and a half years. He had a sweet tooth. He liked lowbrow jam: grape jelly and orange marmalade, preferably from the little rectangular containers at the diner where he and I often ate Sunday breakfast. On the Sundays he was on call for his pediatric practice, he'd go to his office early to read the throat cultures and see the handful of sick kids whose parents wanted peace of mind before Monday morning. I went along to play with the typewriter, spin around on the twirly chairs at the front desk, and answer the phones. ("My daddy - I mean, Dr. Penzer - is on another call at the moment," I'd say gravely. "May I take a message?") On the way home we'd stop at the diner, where he always ordered a toasted corn muffin. It came split in half and glistening with butter from the griddle. He'd peel back the filmy cover of two containers of grape jelly and scoop the wiggly purple stuff out with the point of his knife. Yellow corn muffin, purple jelly: the colors of my young Sundays.
Father #2: My father-in-law, who eats jam with glee. My "other mother" brings healthy steel-cut oatmeal and ground flaxseed with her when they visit to make sure their days start out right. My "other father" happily (if dutifully) eats his bowl of oats and raisins, carefully scraping around the edges with his spoon until it's gone. Breakfast is over - but then, if he spies interesting jam in the refrigerator and if I've remembered to buy or make decent bread, he brings both to the table with some butter and has "dessert." He dips a spoon into the jar, spreads a thick layer on a small piece of bread, smiles as he chews. And then he licks the spoon clean. And licks it again. Runs a finger around the plate to get the stray drops and crumbs. He smiles. Bread and jam: a simple pleasure to start the day.
Father #3: My wonderful husband, father to our two wonderful fathers-to-be. Michael likes jam in oatmeal. He likes oatmeal with jam so much that he eats it both in the morning and as an evening snack. Michael likes thin, soupy oatmeal, nothing like his parents' thick steel-cut oats. Michael's oatmeal is nearly liquid. He makes a pot every few days. He's swooned over my experiments with quince jam, loquat jam, yellow cherry jam. He dislikes strawberry jam, apricot jam, and jam with seeds, although I didn't know that last bit until I made this berry cherry jam. No blackberries next time. Oatmeal with jam: Michael's midnight snack. No wonder his blood pressure is so low.
Berries and cherries are in full swing in the summer. I make a small batch of this jam every week or two and keep it in the refrigerator. When the cherries are done, berries alone work well too. Use any combination you like. As you can see in the photo above, I prefer a loose-set jam without added pectin - it mixes more easily into Michael's oatmeal and makes a better pancake topping. Adding a few long strips of lemon peel adds natural pectin, but it will still be thinner than commercial jam.
I make small batches of this delicious jam throughout the summer when berries and cherries are plentiful. Use any combination of fresh berries you prefer.
Ingredients
1/2 pound fresh cherries, halved and pitted
1 pound fresh berries, any combination (strawberries, blueberries, raspberries or blackberries - strawberries should be hulled and sliced)
2 cups granulated sugar (less if your berries are very sweet)
1 lemon
Instructions
In a large heavy saucepan, combine the cherries, berries and sugar. Let sit about 20 minutes. The fruit will release some of its liquid.With a paring knife or vegetable peeler, peel the skin off the lemon in large strips, taking some of the white pith as you cut. Add the lemon strips to the fruit and sugar.Bring the fruit mixture to a boil over medium-high heat. Watch the pot carefully, because I can tell you from personal experience that when a pot of jam boils over, it makes a huge mess. Trust me - you don't want to deal with this mess. As soon as the jam boils, turn down the heat to medium-low. You want to keep the jam bubbling vigorously, but you definitely want to keep it in the pot.Cook the jam, stirring every few minutes, about 30 minutes. It will still look pretty thin, but don't worry - the jam will thicken some (not a lot) as it cools. This is runny jam. You can cook it longer and get more of the water out of it to make a thicker jam, but you'll lose some of the fresh fruit taste. Up to you. While the jam is cooking, wash an old jar and its lid in hot, soapy water. This is refrigerator jam, not meant for long-term storage, so as long as the jar is clean you're fine. No need to worry about boiling or pressure cooking or such.Ladle the hot jam into the clean jar. Wipe the rim of the jar clean and screw on the lid. Let the jar of jam sit on your counter until it's cool, then refrigerate. Use within a month.
Details
Prep time: Cook time: Total time: Yield: approximately 2 pints
For someone who loves truffles above all other culinary extravagances, I'm having a hard time figuring out what to say about this extraordinary truffled fried egg breakfast sandwich.
Should I tell you that I go through a jar of truffle salt every few months? That I sprinkle it on scrambled eggs on the mornings I wake up on the wrong side of the bed, and that it cures my grumpiness every single time?
Or that I keep grated black summer truffles in my freezer in tiny zip-top bags so I can pull them out and mix them into softened homemade butter all year long? (Recipe: How to make truffle butter)
Maybe you'd like to know that black summer truffles are more affordable than the winter varieties (which is why I plan my annual Trufflepalooza party for July - I may be extravagant, but I'm not dumb).
Let's just leave it at this: Make this fried egg sandwich. Make it today. For breakfast, for lunch, for dinner, or for a midnight snack. Toast rustic bread and smear it with good butter, or truffle butter if you have some. Sprinkle truffle salt over the melted provolone. If you're eating it with a fork, pierce the yolk and let it drip all over your plate, then use the bread to mop up the yellow goo and the tiny black bits of truffle mixed with salt. If you're eating it with your hands, make sure you're wearing a shirt you don't love too much, because that same yolk will squirt all over your front as soon as you bite into it.
Truffle salt takes an everyday fried egg sandwich from ho-hum to HOT.
Ingredients
2 slices thick-cut rustic bread
2 Tbsp butter, divided
2 eggs
2 slices provolone cheese
truffle salt
Instructions
Toast the bread. Spread 1 Tbsp butter evenly between the slices.While the bread is toasting, heat a small nonstick skillet over medium heat. Melt the remaining 1 Tbsp butter in the skillet. Crack the eggs into the pan. Cook about 2 minutes, then carefully flip the eggs and lay 1 slice of cheese on each egg. Cover the skillet and cook 1 minute. Slide one egg onto each piece of toast, then sprinkle generously with the truffle salt. Eat immediately.
Details
Prep time: Cook time: Total time: Yield: 1 sandwich
A few weeks ago I went to visit a friend with a plum tree. If I were a more organized person, I would schedule my social obligations around southern California's backyard fruit harvest schedule. I'm not and I don't, but this time, in a happy coincidence, I arrived, hugged my friend, looked out into her yard, and saw ripe Santa Rosa plums. With her permission, my inappropriate footwear and I clambered up the hill and pulled down a few dozen light-red plums to take home.
And then - this always seems to happen when friends give me fruit - I got busy. The plums sat on my counter for a week, then two. The skin darkened from light red to deep purple. Santa Rosas have a complex flavor but they're not exactly sweet, so eating out of hand didn't really appeal.
Yesterday, finally, I had time to consider the plums. I spent a good half-hour reading plum recipes on SimplyRecipes, noodling with the idea of plum sorbet, plum galette, and a wacky plum conserve that reads like jam until you get to the raisins and nuts.
Ultimately, though, I went back to a magical combination I discovered last year when making a plum bread pudding: Plums love Chinese five-spice powder, a traditional blend of cinnamon, star anise, pepper, cloves and fennel. I wrapped it all in a traditional French yogurt cake, one I've made a hundred times. The end result: a rustic cake with a beautiful purple layer of fruit in the middle. The cake isn't super sweet, and neither are the plums, so if you're looking for something to satisfy your sweet tooth, move along. I would call this a bracing cake, dessert for those who don't mind a bit of pucker.
Any plums will work in this recipe. Don't peel them - with most plums, the color comes from the skin. Some lightly sweetened whipped cream wouldn't hurt for serving.
Ingredients
1 pound plums (Santa Rosa or another variety)
3 Tbsp granulated sugar
3/4 tsp Chinese five-spice powder
2 eggs
1 cup Greek yogurt (lowfat or nonfat)
1 1/4 cups light brown sugar, divided
1/3 cup canola or grapeseed oil
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp almond extract
Instructions
Wash, pit and dice the plums, not too small. In a small bowl, gently toss the diced plums with the granulated sugar and Chinese five-spice powder. Let sit while you make the cake batter.Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Spray a 9-inch round cake pan with nonstick cooking spray.In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, yogurt, 1 cup of brown sugar, and oil until smooth. Into another bowl, sift the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Pour the dry ingredients on top of the wet ingredients and mix gently with a spatula or large spoon until just combined - if you mix it too much the cake will be tough. Stir in the almond extract.Spread half the cake batter in the prepared pan. Spoon the plums over the batter evenly, then cover with the remaining batter as best you can. It may not cover it perfectly - that's okay. If some of the plums peek out of the edges of the cake, so much the better. Sprinkle the top of the cake with the remaining 1/4 cup brown sugar, then slide the pan into the oven. Bake about 45 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out with a few crumbs clinging to it. Cool in the pan at least 10 minutes. Run a knife along the edges of the cake, then lift the cake out of the pan with a large, wide spatula and slide it onto a cake stand. Serve at room temperature.
Details
Prep time: Cook time: Total time: Yield: 8 servings
Today I'm honored and thrilled. LA Weekly, probably the best alternative newspaper in the country, named this blog Best Home-Cooking Site in its 2011 Los Angeles Web Awards. I got a fancypants framed plaque to hang on the wall (below), my name in lights at a cool Hollywood party (above), and a huge dose of adrenaline. Thanks to the editors at LA Weekly, and thanks to all of you readers out there. I love everyone tonight!
Now it's off with the party clothes and back to the kitchen.
A few weeks ago I was lucky enough to go to the opening of The Market at Santa Monica Place. The Market, an airy hall filled with gourmet food stalls on top of the recently renovated mall in downtown Santa Monica, feels a bit like San Francisco's Ferry Building. It's got chocolate, cheese, bread, wine, salumi, flowers, cookies, ice cream, fashion-forward small plates - much of it locally sourced, all of it attractive and delicious.
Evan Kleiman prepping for her demo at The Gourmandise School
Evan, on the other hand, embraced the bounty of southern California with a green risotto. Into her food processor went arugula, spinach, green onions and herbs. She added some of the chopped greens at the beginning of the risotto process ("for flavor") and another dollop at the end ("for color"). Snap peas cut on the diagonal went in at the last minute. It looked like grass, and it sort of tasted like grass, too, fresh and mild and a little sneezy. She uses vegetable stock or water when she's making risotto, both to please the vegetarians and because, she says, chicken stock smells like feet if you cook it too long.
Later that week I decided to make my own green risotto. I found myself reaching for the strong stuff, though. Mine had green garlic and dandelion instead of spinach and green onions. And a good, strong, homemade chicken stock, because I like the smell of feet. Same method, same beautiful color, none of the delicacy. My green risotto hits you over the head with spring. It rubs spring in your face. What can I say? Subtlety isn't my strong suit.
This green garlic risotto would make an excellent side with roast chicken, oven-roasted salmon or grilled steak. Don't serve it with anything too complicated. It's assertive. You don't want to make it mad.
Use any combination of greens you like for this herb-laden risotto. If you can't find green garlic, substitute a few chopped garlic cloves and double down on the green onions.
Ingredients
3 Tbsp olive oil
4 large shallots, minced
2 cups Arborio rice
1 cup white wine, divided
approximately 8 cups good-quality chicken stock, kept at a simmer on a nearby burner
2 cups Parmigiano-Reggiano or Romano cheese, grated
salt and pepper to taste
Instructions
Heat a large pot over medium-high heat. Add the olive oil and shallots and saute about a minute, until the shallots are translucent and starting to color. Add the rice and stir about two minutes, until the rice is coated with the olive oil and starting to change from opaque to translucent.Add 1/2 cup of the wine and stir until it's mostly evaporated. Now start with the chicken stock - add about two cups the first time and stir until it's absorbed. When you draw your spoon along the bottom of the pot and it leaves a trail, add some more stock, one or two ladles at a time.Meantime, in between the first and second addition of stock, put the green garlic, green onions, greens and herbs in a food processor and blitz until everything is finely chopped. It may even turn into a paste - that's fine. When you add the second bit of stock, add a good heaping cup of the chopped greens as well.Continue stirring and adding stock in the same manner until the rice is al dente - this will take 15-20 minutes, so start testing it after 15. When it's just al dente, stir in the remaining half-cup of wine, grated cheese, another dollop of the chopped greens, and salt and pepper. Stir well, cover the pot, and turn off the heat. Let the risotto stand for about 5 minutes, then serve immediately. If the risotto thickens up too much while it stands, stir in a little extra stock.
Details
Prep time: Cook time: Total time: Yield: 8-10 servings
Every so often Clemence Gossett, a fabulous baking instructor and co-founder of The Gourmandise School of Sweets and Savories in Santa Monica, sends one of her recipes out to her email list. Clemence's recipes are exactly my kinds of sweets: never fussy, always achievable and truly delicious.
Last year Clemence sent a message titled "The Muffin Method" detailing her general muffin philosophies and proportions. I make muffins all the time, so I kept it in my inbox. It took me a year, but I finally pulled it out this weekend to make some blueberry muffins.
I read the recipe three times before I started. I was confused. No eggs? Two tablespoons of baking powder? I'd never seen a blueberry muffin recipe like that. I wondered if Clemence had erred. Hah! I should have known better than to doubt a French baker. Clemence's recipes are well-tested.
These are the best blueberry muffins I've ever tasted. They're closer to cake than to health food - don't let the fruit fool you. But if you can't indulge in a sweet muffin or two (or seven, in the case of my nine-year-old) on a lazy Sunday, when can you?
If you're in southern California, do stop by the new Gourmandise School, in The Market at Santa Monica Place. The Market is Los Angeles's answer to San Francisco's Ferry Building, and Gourmandise is holding cooking classes just about every day in their gorgeous, brand-new, shiny demonstration kitchen. I'm trying to work up the nerve to ask Clemence if I can teach a class over the summer. Maybe a Trufflepalooza class, featuring black summer truffle recipes. What do you think? Would you sign up?
Light, sweet and delightful: These are the best blueberry muffins I've ever tasted, hands down. Thanks to Clemence Gossett of The Gourmandise School of Sweets and Savories for this recipe.
Ingredients
3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 Tbsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/8 tsp salt
1 1/4 cups granulated sugar, plus more for sprinkling
1 cup milk
1 cup plain yogurt or sour cream
5 ounces butter, cut into pieces
3 cups fresh blueberries
Instructions
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Line a 24-cup standard muffin tin with paper liners.Whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt in a large bowl.In a glass or ceramic microwave-safe bowl, put the sugar, milk, yogurt or sour cream, and butter. Microwave the bowl 1 minute on high, or until the butter is starting to melt and the bowl is warm. Whisk the mixture until you see little bits of butter floating in the mixture.Add the blueberries to the flour mixture and toss to coat. Pour over the milk mixture and slowly, carefully, fold together with a large spoon or spatula. Do not overmix or the muffins will be tough. Streaks of flour are perfectly okay.Divide the batter among the muffin tins and sprinkle with sugar. Bake 30 minutes or until a toothpick comes out with a few crumbs clinging to it and the tops are starting to turn golden brown. Cool 5 minutes in the pan, then remove the muffins to a rack to cool completely.
Details
Prep time: Cook time: Total time: Yield: 24 muffins
My family lives on this simple watermelon drink. I'm calling it a watermelon agua fresca, but it's really not - it's better. Mexican aguas frescas typically contain added sugar, but to me watermelon is sweet enough. My version is pure and plain, just two ingredients: seedless watermelon and fresh lime juice.
This watermelon juice is the ultimate thirst-quencher after anything sweaty: a workout, a long walk, cleaning out the closet, weeding the garden. We buy adorable small seedless watermelons at Costco year-round, but they're sweetest in the summer. I hope no one ever discovers that watermelon causes cancer, because at the rate I put them away, I'd be a goner for sure.