we almost don't believe it's really happening

our honeymoon was almost

a year ago - give or

take a couple of weeks -

and unless you count

a weekend in

allentown, pennsylvania

for my sister's college graduation

(sorry, erin, but i can't),

that was the last time we

stayed in a hotel.

we are more than excited

to head out for

not only days of

rest,

relaxation

and

good seafood,

but also for a place

where someone else

is responsible

for making the bed

and doing the dishes...

...and to put my

new camera -

one of my very cool

culinary-inspired birthday gifts -

to good use.

hopefully,

i'll come back with beautiful

(or at least passable) pictures

and tons of

kitchen inspiration.

in the meantime,

a shot from our last time, um, away:

erin, at dinner, the night before

her college graduation,

very time appropriate,

considering that she's starting

her next round of schooling

in just a couple of days.

homemade pride

there are several things

that i have made,

simply because i'm

surprised

and

amazed

to find out that i can.

that's how the whole deal

with marshmallows began,

why i first made graham crackers,

and how i ran to the store late

one saturday night to get yeast,

determined to make english muffins

for sunday morning's breakfast.

and that was initially most of

my thought process with

ricotta cheese.

i can't even remember how long

ago it was that i learned

ricotta cheese could easily

be made at home.

and even though i printed out

a recipe and debated what i should

use it for,

i still held onto that piece of paper

for way too long.

last week i decided - no doubt

fueled by the success of

slow-roasted tomatoes -

that that was it,

no more excuses:

i was making ricotta.

--

larry reacted true to form.

first giving me that look,

letting me know that he thinks

i'm crazy.

next, he asked, very simply, why?

and after that didn't work,

he gave it a last ditch attempt,

reminding me that i could

buy it for a lot less work.

later, he asked what i was going to

do with it. when i said i didn't

yet know, but that wasn't the point,

he shrugged his shoulders and

dropped the subject,

no doubt clear in his defeat.

--

but because i'm never content

to just make it easy,

i searched for a different

recipe, wanting to guarantee

that i went with the right method.

i found this one,

then debated all afternoon.

it wasn't until i was in the store,

staring at all the milks

that i decided to stick to my guns

and go with my first recipe.

i owed it that much after

years waiting its turn

in the binder.

i made one change,

breaking a major rule of mine:

never ever change a recipe the

first time you make it.

make it the way it was intended first,

then feel free to play, tinker and add.

it's not that i don't adjust

here and there,

but when a recipe is fundamentally based

on very few ingredients,

it seems more than wrong

to mess with any

of them.

i never buy full-fat ricotta,

so, it seemed kind of weird for me

to make the cheese all fat at home.

i took a big leap, and bought

1% milk, knowing that if i didn't

have cheese at the end of the

experiment, i'd have no one

to blame but myself.

i also switched the heavy cream

for light cream, worried that i needed

extra fat that whole milk

just would not be able to provide.

in spite of these changes,

when i mixed together the

milk,

cream,

and salt,

in a pot, and brought them

to a boil, they boiled anyway

(not that there was really

any doubt about that part).

and after, i

added the lemon juice

called for,

plus just a smidge more,

i crossed my fingers

that the mixture would

in fact curdle.

at first, i thought the curds

were tiny, and that there

weren't enough.

i was sure that the whole

thing concoction would slip

through the cheesecloth

and all wind up in the bottom

of the bowl,

still liquid.

but a minute later, i experimented,

lifting up the spoon i was using to stir

and was pleasantly surprised to

see that it contained a good amount of cheese.

it was now or never.

i poured the mixture into

the cheesecloth-lined strainer,

eyes half closed and was very

happy to realize that there was quite

a lot of cheese in the bowl.

i tasted i small bit -

very hot

still wet -

but unmistakingly, ricotta.

even though this recipe had said to strain

the cheese for one hour,

the other one called for only 15 minutes.

i took a chance around 20

(after a quick straining test to make sure

it wasn't still dripping wet)

and spread it onto the

whole grain pizza dough i had just grilled.

then, i topped it with the

heirloom bruschetta i had stirred together

while the cheese was draining.

and i was so glad for that.

you see - i like ricotta.

i can appreciate the creamy texture

and the smoothness it lends

to a dish. i can get behind the

hard to beat clean cheese flavor.

but, i can't help to find ricotta

a little bit bland.

i rarely use it without

spicing the whole mixture

up with

garlic

lemon

salt

pepper

and more.

this time, i wanted to enjoy

it for the simple ingredient

it was. i added nothing to it,

but on top, was a different story.

the balsamic, basil and red onion-spiked

bruschetta over the crispy smoky crust,

encouraged the cheese to taste like

the most complex of

ingredients.

the next night,

i scooped a spoonful of the

significantly dryer ricotta

into a bowl,

sprinkled it with ground cinnamon,

drizzled everything with honey

and tossed a handful of blueberries

on top.

it was a lovely treat -

creamy and indulgent,

gently spiced and

not too sweet.

but thanks to the summer fruit,

extremely fresh.

oddly,

i've waited years to

make ricotta, never actually

discussing it with anyone,

but just days after this batch

was made, my friend colleen

wrote about her experience

making ricotta that very

weekend. it's not such a

surprise - in the past

we've made garlic scapes

at the same time and

this past weekend for my

birthday, she whipped up a

batch of peach cupcakes that i

had my eye on to bake.

but to me, the best part was

that she had made the other

recipe, so i now have proof

that both work.

obviously, if you're in a hurry,

i cannot dispute that it's easier

to buy a container

from the store.

but if you have even

the tiniest

bit of time,

it's worth it to make

ricotta at home.

the only reason

this actually takes

a few extra minutes

is because you have to

wait for the mixture to come

to a boil.

after that, it's fast,

smooth sailing -

the equivilant of making pasta.

seriously.

don't wait as long as i did.

homemade ricotta cheese

adapted from gourmet magazine

the original recipe called for whole milk and heavy cream, which i'm sure would have been delicious. i made this with 1% milk and light cream. on the first night, it was lovely. the second night it was still good, but much dryer. the original recipe called to let the mixture drain for 1 hour. i was very happy with the texture after 20 minutes of draining - so i used it then. if you prefer a less wet ricotta, let it strain longer.

1/2 gallon 1% milk

1 cup light cream

1/2 teaspoon salt

3 generous tablespoons fresh lemon juice

line a large sieve with cheesecloth (i gave it four layers); place over a large bowl and set aside.

in large heavy saucepot over medium heat, bring milk, cream and salt to a rolling boil, stirring occasionally to prevent scorching.

add lemon juice; reduce heat to low and cook 2 minutes, or until the mixture curdles, stirring constantly. gently pour mixture into sieve. let drain 20 minutes to 1 hour.

cover and chill in fridge. keeps for up to two days.

a slow journey

every summer,
i wait until august,
excited to finally make
this recipe
for slow-roasted tomatoes,
directly from the pages of orangette.

then somewhere around
october,
it occurs to me that that
it's now october and i,
in fact, have let another
summer go without
producing even a single batch
of these deeply flavored
beauties.

it was not going to
happen again this year.
reason one: i was determined.
reason two: i read a homemade life.
the book by molly wizenberg,
author of orangette,
this summer.
and while there
were quite a few recipes i intended
to use to break in the book,
like the buckwheat pancakes,
the bouchons au thons and
the chocolate cake of hers that
i've always wanted to make,
when there were nothing but
tomatoes, tomatoes, tomatoes,
everywhere i turned, it was
clear that this one was up first.

to ensure that i would carry

my promise through,

i bought 10 roma tomatoes

on friday, carefully placing

them spaced out on my counter

when i got home, so that if

i didn't roast them, the guilt

would hit me

every trip to the kitchen.

yes, that's how i work.

sunday morning,

it was ridiculously hot,

but when hasn't it been

this august?

i set to work, slicing tomatoes

and was pleasantly surprised

to note that in the book,

molly had adapted the recipe

to tossing the tomatoes with
oil, rather than brushing them.

once coated, i placed them on

a baking sheet, trying to keep

the slippery devils in place,

sprinkled the halves

with salt and ground coriander

and placed them in the oven.

easy.

but then i had a choice to make:

trap myself, and in turn, larry,

in the hot apartment

or take a chance and actually leave,

relying on the fact that we've used

this oven for 3 years and never has

it started a fire -

even when making this overnight apple cake,

which also required me to leave

the oven on all night and kept me

from a relaxed night of sleep,
too worried that i would wake

up to the fire alarm, or worse, smoke.

i'm sensing a trend, here.

so, we left, but it was too hot to

visit anywhere except the

air conditioned-movie theatre.

we settled in to see julie and julia,

as i vowed that i would pay attention

to the movie and not spend two hours
thinking about things like

fire trucks, insurance and

my grandmother's dining room table

& china cabinet,

both made of wood.

i expected the movie to be light

and touching and brimming with food,

but what i didn't expect was to be hit

so hard with its story lines,

so similar to mine.

i had read the book and found it

entertaining, but that's the most

that i remember

or took away from the pages.

the movie though, well if you've seen

it, you know that it is sweet and

inspirational with a

few moments that

could possibly provoke tears,

if you are pretty sensitive.

i cried almost the whole time.

and for a while after.

it was so strange.

but, save for the scene that julie

made the most delicious looking

bruschetta, the movie served

its purposes, keeping us cool for

two hours and mostly distracting

me from the tomatoes at home.

we got home at just about the

four hour mark

(from the prescribed 4-6

hour cooking time)
and everything was...
as it should be.

when we opened the door,

the entire space smelled
like the best tomatoes ever.
and when i opened the oven,

the halves were absolutely

wrinkled, smaller and darker,

but not quite the 1/3 of their

size they ought to be,

so i closed the door and let

them cook almost two hours

more, heeding the note

that they should still be juicy.

when i pulled them out,

i remembered the other blogs

from around the time

it was published,

saying that it was nearly impossible

to not eat them all right away

and how few tomatoes

actually made it to the table.

and i understood.

larry and i split one and i warned

him that the rest were for dinner.

but it was early in the day -

dinner was far away and that

was a hard deal for both
of us to keep.

it's just that
they're puckered and their

texture is unclear, until you pop

one in your mouth and you

realize that they are in fact,

incredibly juicy and nothing like

those leathery

sun-dried tomatoes

that i always knew i should

love, but have never been able

to fully embrace.

and their flavor is that of

the most intense tomato,

summery and sweet.

next to sherry vinegar roasted onions

(hey, the oven had been on all day anyway -

what's two more hours at this point?)

and skillet-browned padron chilies,

a round of bucheron

and slices of toasted bread,

they were our tapas-style dinner,

and certainly, the star.

i was glad that i had pulled out

four for a sandwich later in the

week (which i topped with

hummus and basil).

i cannot imagine waiting

another summer to make more,

but goodness,

the day of slow-roasting

was oddly stressful.

at least,

it was worth it.

tears and all.

slow-roasted tomatoes
adapted from a homemade life

molly uses these to make pestos and sauces, which i would probably do next next time, now that i've enjoyed them on their own. here, though, we ate them straight, on a table with other veggies and in a sandwiches. they keep for up to a week. the original recipe calls for 20 tomatoes, which would have been nice to have, but i only used 10.

10 roma tomatoes, still firm

1/2 tablespoon olive oil

ground coriander

kosher salt

heat oven to 200 degree. using sharp paring knife, core tomatoes; halve each tomato. place in bowl and toss with olive oil. place, cut side up on baking sheet.

sprinkle tomatoes with pinches of ground coriander and salt.

roast 4 to 6 hours, or until tomatoes are 1/3 their original size, but are still juicy. let cool.

enjoy tomatoes warm or at room temperature.

i made quince paste!

everyone who cooks

has that giant stack of recipes

somewhere - in a binder,

a notebook, a file on the computer,

in their minds - titled

some variation of,

to make, some day.

while this is certainly true

for me, i have about five or six

that have stayed at the very

top of the list for years,

seemingly always edged

out by another recipe

or simply, because

it's the wrong season.

but somehow,

over the past week

(and this one that i'm

going to tell you about today,

a little longer ago),

i've made my way through

four of them.

yes, four, after years of waiting.

i can't believe it either.

i'm not sure if i just

got it together or

it was the pressure (um, inspiration)

of this blog, but somehow,

i did it. i can attest that three

were a huge success. the other

one? we're having tonight

for dinner, so i'll let you

know soon.

first up?

obviously, quince paste,

also known as membrillo.

i had my first bite

of manchego and membrillo

years ago at a press party in

california. the combination -

hard salty cheese

on top of the orange fruity paste -

and i became fast friends,

mostly because all the other

passed options were

filled with meat or

wrapped with bacon.

after that, quince paste

sort of floated in and out

of my life, sometimes popping

up on cheese and dessert plates,

or on delicious crostinis.

somewhere along the way,

i looked it up,

found this recipe that

looked simple enough

and made a mental note.

but that was out.

this year, larry and i welcomed

in the new year at home

and to celebrate, i made us

a cheese plate. after picking

out the cheeses,

my eyes fell upon the pricey

quince paste.

we had had a rough week

and i decided to splurge.

it was so worth it and

absolutely the best

thing for a cheese plate,

which, um, hello?

of course it was.

but really, the sweet, firm

almost gumdrop-like

paste was delicious

next to the soft

and firm cheeses alike.

this is not just a

manchego condiment.

but we had a lot

left over and i was determined

for it not to go to waste.

true inspiration came

the next time i was making

turkey burgers. i usually stuff

them with boursin and then

never know what to put

on top. i've tried lots of condiments

to not so favorable results and just

dry, which is also not

ideal.

i cut very thin slices and placed

them on top of the patty.

it was amazing and i was so

happy to have solved

my always-forget dilemma.

only problem?

there was no way that i

was spending $7.99 again.

so i revisited the recipe,

but then realized that directions

meant very little

without quince,

the apple-looking fruit that

is used as the base.

so i put the recipe

again to the back of my mind.

then, months later,

larry was meeting

friends for dinner and i decided

to stop at a different

grocery store to pick up a few things.

right there, quince for just $1.99 a pound.

i remembered two pounds

and grabbed four, hoping

my memory was not failing me.

it didn't and when i got home

and consulted the recipe,

i was relieved to note that the only

other things i needed

were sugar and water,

two items that are always

easy to come by in this house.

the proccess looked easy.

i just had to set the quince in

the oven to bake for two hours,

peel them, puree them,

then stir the puree together

with sugar until firm,

pour into a mold, wrap

and wait.

in theory, it's that easy.

but i think quince are typically

available in the fall

and that is probably the best

time to make this dish

if you are, like me,

in a kitchen without

an air conditioner.

once they were peeled

and pureed, they were supposed

to go through a strainer.

i started to, but i quickly realized

i wasn't going to make it

through all the batches

with my sanity still in tact

and that the texture was smooth

enough for me. so i stirred

the one strained bowlful

back into the rest of it and

crossed my fingers that it

would balance everything out.

i tasted the pale beige mixture

just before simmering and it

looked and tasted like baby food,

nothing like the silky paste

i've enjoyed in the past.

i set the timer for 25 minutes,

turned on the burner

and started simmering.

when you're alone and stuck

with a mind-numbing task,

you need to make deals with yourself

to get through.

so, i promised myself

i wouldn't look at the clock for at least 10

minutes. instead, i would carefully

examine the puree, watching

for color or texture differences

and think about how at least when

you make risotto, the constant stirring

is broken up by occasionally adding

broth to the pan. soon, i knew it hadn't

been 10 minutes, but i had to look.

23:39.

oh no.

so i made a decision that i was

early enough in the process that i could

stop stirring for the 15 seconds

that it would take for me to run

and turn on the cd player

in the living room,

taking my chances with whatever

disc was inside.

the five indigo girls songs that

followed made the entire situation

so much more manageable.

in between closer to fine

and least complicated,

i was actually able to ignore

how hot i was and appreciate

that after about 10 minutes of

stirring, the puree had deepened

in color a bit,

and with 5 minutes more,

the texture had changed considerably.

(my neighbors, on the other hand,

probably were not so happy.)

the recipe had read to stir for 25 minutes,

or until it is thickened and the mixture

pulls away from the pan.

with about 3 or 4 minutes left,

the texture did change,

but not quite like the directions had said.

so i kept stirring

and after 25 minutes were

up, i held on for two extra minutes,

before deciding that i had

probably put in

several minutes of overtime.

i quickly poured the paste

into the readied loaf pan

(i don't have a terrine).

once cool, i wrapped it up

and stuck it in the fridge.

it no longer looked like

baby food, i thought -

much more membrillo-like.

it wasn't until the next day

that i realized i don't very often

put out cheese plates

and that it might be quite

a while until i actually

would need or even use the paste.

thank goodness the recipe says

that you have three months.

it took a while, but i made

the turkey burgers and while

i worried that the paste was

too firm thanks to the

overzealous cooking,

once put on the hot burger,

it softened.

and oddly enough,

we ended up with a few

cheeses recently,

and i was very excited

to pull out the loaf and cut

off another slice.

just as the purchased

membrillo was

8 months earlier,

this one was a delicious

sweet foil for the

rich cheeses.

i still have a bunch

left - i'm formulating

plans. but i'm so glad

that i finally got my

act together and made

a batch. now that i did

it, i have no idea

why it took me so long.

quince paste (membrillo)

adapted from gourmet magazine

with the exception of straining, i followed this recipe exactly. i wanted to use less sugar, but i was too afraid that the mixture wouldn't gel. so i used almost all of it all - and while it's a bit of a sweet food on its own, that's not usually how you eat it. with cheese or on a turkey burger, it's exactly right. if you have help - someone else to take turns stirring or to help you pour into the terrine, you'll be happy - but if not, go for it anyway. i did it alone and lived to tell the tale. just have good music on standby.

4 medium quinces (about 2 pounds total)

1/4 cup to 1/2 cup water

2 to 3 cups sugar

heat oven to 350˚f. lightly oil a 1 quart terrine or loaf pan.

wash quinces; dry well. place quinces in a heatproof baking dish. cover tightly with foil and bake 2 hours or until quince can be pierced easily with a fork. transfer quince to a rack until cool enough to handle. using sharp knife, peel, core and cut them.

in food processor, puree pulp with 1/4 cup water. blend until smooth adding extra 1/4 cup water, if necessary (note, this took me the full 1/2 cup water). you can strain it here into a bowl if you want, i didn't.

measure puree. measure out an equal amounto of sugar (example: if you have 2 1/2 cups of puree, use 2 1/2 cups of sugar). i had about 2 2/3 cups of puree and i used just under that amount of sugar (about 2 1/2 cups).

add puree and sugar to a heavy three quart saucepot. heat over medium-high heat for 25 minutes, stirring constantly, or until the mixture is thickened, changes color and pulls away from the pan. immediately turn off the heat, pour the puree into the greased pan and use an offset spatula to smooth down the top. loosely cover with plastic wrap and chill 4 hours, or until firm.

run knife around mold and invert onto plate. use, or wrap well: wrap in wax paper, then in plastic wrap and chill. it will keep for up to three months.