brown sugar and pecan shortbread

there are two types of people:

those who went to camp and

those who not only didn't,

but don't understand how the

people who did, can recite

a camp song at a moment's notice.

from the age of 6

until the age of 18

i spent my summers

at camp.

some of those years,

i was working,

first as a waitress

(yes, we had waitresses at camp)

and then as a counselor.

most importantly,

the last 10 years were

spent all at the same camp,

making the collection of summers

a huge chunk of my childhood memories.

it was, thank goodness, a former

sleep-away camp that had been

converted into a day camp.

i don't think i was the kind of

kid who could have handled

eight weeks away from my own house.

but we had tennis teams and ceramics,

jewelry-making and nature,

two swims a day, s'mores,

talent shows, counselor shows,

ultimate frisbee and color war.

on good days we had ice cream sandwiches

or watermelon at snack time.

on bad days? ice pops. usually orange.

when it rained,

we went bowling or roller skating

or stayed in our bunks listening

to a group leader tell us

the same scary story year after year.

and when the last day of camp came,

preciously close to my birthday each year,

we sobbed.

because, above all else,

camp for us was about friends.

friends who lived just far enough

away, that we rarely saw each

other throughout the school year.

who we would send letters to -

when you are young, 20 to 30

minute distances might as

well be the other side of the country -

in efforts to keep in touch during

the winter. friends who somehow

felt like your best friends in

the world, who knew the most

about you, who knew

who kissed who

on the picnic tables

during free swim and knew

who always got the shaft

when the poor waitress

set a tray of nine pizzas down to

a table of 10 girls.

when we were 9, we made lanyards

and crossed our fingers that we would

all get our blue tags so that we

could swim and dive together

in the deepest end of the pool.

by 11, we hosted sleepovers,

trying to stay awake and succeeding,

thanks to the peanut butter cups, twizzlers

and store-bought chocolate chip cookies

we insisted our moms' bought.

at 15 we were waitresses.

we snuck frozen pb&j sandwiches,

from the walk-in every day before we left,

fought over boys

and at the end of the summer,

sang a song about camp

that a couple of girls had written

to the tune of sunshine day from the brady bunch

and hard-knock life from annie

in the counselor show.

and at 16, we planned nights to

have parties at each other's homes,

see tom petty, the cranberries

and once, montel jordan, in concert.

eight weeks at camp is

a year in the real world.

my last day of camp

was a thursday, one day before

the official last day of season.

and one day before i left for college.

non-camp people cannot understand

that. but 12 years later, i still am not ashamed.

pine grove played a big role in my life.

and gave me some of my closest friends.

lauren is from camp - we bonded at 10

after learning that we both had the same

pink towel that boasted ballet slippers

and our names, respectively, in embroidery.

and, my freshmen and sophomore year

college roommate was from camp.

by the end of college,

i had lost touch with almost

everyone, save for lauren.

a few years later, the two of us

got back in touch with one,

another lauren (there were actually

five of them altogether). and a year

after that, we decided to look up

and then find, our friend, alexis.

the first time we went out to dinner -

a group of four 25-year-olds,

not the group of 11-14 teenagers

we once were - i looked around the table

and saw us as 16. sure, now we had

college degrees, jobs, boyfriends (and,

for one, a husband), but it was obvious

that we fell right back into place,

in a way that you can only do with

certain people.

none of us live very close to the others,

but we've stayed in each other's lives

for the past five years: meeting for

dinner, going to each other's weddings

and most recently, alexis' baby shower in june.

alexis' daughter, riley was born in august,

and this past weekend

lauren and i finally met her.

i wanted to bring them something

nice, but let's face it,

i am not crafty.

so, i baked.

(but, um, lauren brought an adorable

onsie - why didn't that cross my mind?)

i turned to one of my favorite books

to rely on: alice medrich's pure dessert

(she of the olive oil and sherry pound cakes).

i have many one-day-i-will-make recipes

mentally marked off in that book

and i was glad to finally bake the

brown sugar and pecan shortbread,

made from raw sugars.

even though i love baking,

when it comes to cookies,

i'm a huge fan of the bar variety.

you mix, press, pat and bake -

no dropping spoonfuls of dough

on cookie sheet after cookie sheet,

cooling the pans, rotating and

spending hours at the oven in

11 minute increments.

usually.

these cookies worked out for

me this time, but normally

they might have a step too

many to be considered

a simple bar cookie.

you make the dough,

which couldn't be simpler:

melted butter

rum

vanilla extract

muscovado sugar

flour

pecans

and

salt,

press it into the foil-lined pan

and then wait several hours.

i got this far and then realized

something: i had no desire to

be in my apartment any more.

larry had been away for work

for several days already and

suddenly, everything seemed

very quiet. so instead of

sucking it up and staying,

i piled

everything -

the pan filled with dough,

the cookbook,

extra pecans for pressing,

demerara sugar for sprinkling

two large knives for cutting,

and a tin for giving - into

a bag and headed to my mom's,

an hour away.

i was a sight,

showing up with

my large pocketbook,

camera bag,

overnight bag,

cookie bag

and no coat,

all for one evening.

and after a few tries,

i was able to explain

to my mom that yes,

i brought unbaked dough

to her house and yes, it

was going to sit on her

counter for a few hours

longer before i have to

bake them,

cut them into squares,

place them on a baking sheet

and bake again.

nothing about this recipe

was hard. at all. i even

cut something resembling

squares without

traumatizing myself.

but, this nutty shortbread

is not especially fast.

it is however bursting

with two types of

raw brown sugar,

toasted pecans,

a rich butteryness

and a slight crunch,

thanks to the second

bake in the oven.

and they're more than

worth it for an old friend.

especially one, that you used to

eat lorna doones with at snacktime,

something i remembered

as i pulled them out of the oven.

i loved these cookies because, yes,

they'll crumble in your mouth,

but they survived a rainy trip to

staten island without breaking.

for me, they were the perfect thing

to bring to alexis and her family.

they ate them, one hand on the cookie,

the other on riley,

just as i hoped it would be.

(oh, and while i was busy baking,

my sister was at a wedding. one of

her camp friends was getting married.)

brown sugar and pecan shortbread

adapted from alice medrich's pure dessert

the original recipe was to be baked in a 8" pan, but i used a 9" so i multiplied everything by one-quarter. i have no idea if that's the correct conversion, but it worked well for me. the other change i made was that i only had dark muscovado sugar and the store did not have any, so i used something called golden bakers, which when eaten out of hand reminded me a bit of dried pineapples. once baked in, it just tasted like a lovely, rich brown sugar. oh, and one last thing: this dough looked kind of funky and overly buttery when i first pressed it into the pan, but by the time i baked it, it looked much more normal, like a real dough.

15 tablespoons (1 stick, 7 tablespoons), unsalted butter, melted and still warm

1/2 cup, plus 2 1/2 tablespoons firmly packed light muscovado or golden bakers sugar

1 1/2 tablespoons dark rum

1 1/3ish teaspoons vanilla extract

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 1/2 cups, plus 6 tablespoons all-purpose flour

heaping 2/3 cup pecans, chopped

demerara, turbinado or granulated sugar for sprinkling (i used demera)

line bottom and sides of 9" baking pan with aluminum foil. in bowl, stir together melted butter, sugar, rum, vanilla extract and salt. add the flour and half the pecans; mix just until combined. transfer to prepared pan. pat in evenly. let stand 2 hours or overnight (no need to refrigerate).

position a rack in the lower third of the oven. heat oven to 300˚f.

sprinkle remaining pecans over the dough; gently press into surface. bake 45 minutes. remove pan from oven (leave the oven on). sprinkle the shortbread with demerara sugar. let cool 10 minutes.

using foil, carefully remove cookies from pan and transfer to cutting board, making sure not to break them. using a sharp, thin, long knife, cut into squares (i made 25). place pieces slightly apart on a parchment or silpat-lined baking sheet. bake 15 minutes; let sit on pan 2 minutes.

using spatula, transfer to cooling rack; let cool completely. transfer to an airtight container.

*i'm not going to lie. in that picture of alexis and riley, she is actually opening lauren's gift. not eating a cookie.

green shrimp and scallop posole

you know those recipes that you

see, pull and stash for months

or even years, waiting for the

right night or occasion?

(we all know i've done that

once or, ok, many times.)

well, what happens if

before you get around to

making it, someone else unknowingly

makes it for you? and what happens

if that someone happens to be

your husband and it is more

delicious than you had imagined?

well, then you are lucky.

as lucky as i was wednesday night,

when i was asked to pick up

a can of hominy and then was

greeted by this show-stopping

vision:

perfect mise en place.

i actually clapped with joy

at the sight -

vegetables, chopped

and separated into

ready-to-cook

piles.

i had to take a picture.

then, i did something that

i regret.

i left the room.

i had things to do and

clearly, he had everything

under control (see: picture).

i knew he was making a posole,

but that was it, information-wise.

i did not walk back in until

he was ladling the lovely-smelling

soup into bowls and sprinkling

them with freshly chopped cilantro.

i grabbed another picture.

i wish i had stayed in the kitchen

the whole time, taking pictures

and watching the meal

come to life, because

let me tell you:

the end result was unbelievable.

slightly spicy and briny,

thanks to the clam juice

and tomatillo salsa base,

textured with earthy hominy

and onions

and brimming with

shrimp and sea scallops.

one bite in, i realized two things:

this was the posole recipe i pulled

from bon appetit years ago and

this is probably my favorite thing

larry has ever made.

he's made good things before.

and great things, too.

but, this? this i would go back

to a restaurant for and order again

on the repeat visit.

next time,

i would just

take more pictures.

green shrimp and scallop posole

adapted from bon appetit magazine

larry followed the recipe very closely - he only modified two things. first, he used sun-dried tomatoes that were not packed in oil, they plumped up just the same once heated and simmered. (although, for me, the sun-dried tomatoes at all, are optional.) second, he reduced the scallops - which he cooked perfectly, i will add - to only 1/2 pound without adverse results. i've incorporated his changes, below.

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 cup chopped onion (if i did this, i would probably just use all of a medium-to-large onion)

3 cloves garlic, peeled and chopped

3 cups (or more) bottled clam juice

1 can (15 ounces) white hominy, drained and rinsed

1 cup salsa verde (tomatillo salsa), medium or mild

2 tablespoons finely chopped sun-dried tomatoes

1 tablespoon finely grated lime peel

1 pound uncooked large shrimp (they looked to me 18-22 count), peeled and deveined

1/2 pound large sea scallops, halved horizontally

4 tablespoons chopped cilantro, divided (i think he may have used more)

in large deep skillet over medium-high heat, warm oil. add onion; cook 5 minutes, or until tender, stirring occasionally. add garlic and cook 30 seconds more, stirring constantly. add 3 cups clam juice, hominy, salsa verde, sun-dried tomatoes and lime peel to the skillet. bring to a boil; reduce heat to low and simmer 5 minutes.

add shrimp, scallops and cilantro to the broth, adding more clam juice to thin, if necessary. simmer 3 minutes, or just until seafood is just opaque in the center. season with salt and pepper, if desired. divide amongst bowls; sprinkle with remaining chopped cilantro.

roasted baby brussels sprouts with lemon and almonds

i guess i can say that growing up,

my sisters and i were pretty lucky

when it came to vegetables.

none of us were especially picky

eaters. sure, one of us went through

a stage where nothing leafy and green

(read: parsley) could be on her food,

and for one, my mom had to lie and

say we were not eating brown rice

with dinner, but 'special rice' and maybe,

one of us decided for no real reason

to give up meat, chicken and turkey

at the age of twelve. and, yes, none

of us enjoyed indian food. but still,

we were relatively agreeable for kids,

not only willing, but excited to eat

calamari, lobster, clams and mussels,

avocados and pine nuts,

gefilte fish, chopped liver and lox.

maybe it was because we were

generally so willing to try things -

when it came to vegetables,

my mom let us be.

they were always on the table,

always offered to us,

and sometimes heavily encouraged,

but never insisted upon.

i remember eating dinner

at friend's houses, and later, babysitting,

for people, who would not let

their children leave the table until

every piece of

spinach,

broccoli,

carrot,

was consumed.

and i always felt for them.

i think my mom

(who please understand, still

had her demands, like making

us drink a glass of milk

with. every. single. meal.

regardless of whether it was

peanut butter & jelly or chicken or pizza

and instated a one-sweet-a-week rule)

wanted us to come to the vegetables

on our own, learn to love them

as she did, instead of looking

at them as something negative.

and we did.

it would be impossible

to enjoy

or appreciate

farmer's markets,

otherwise.

and, fortunately, in finding

my inner vegetable lover,

i found brussels sprouts.

it is an old story that

boiled sprouts gave these

green rounds their bad name,

but i'd rather focus on the already

old-news new story:

when roasted, sauteed, blanched,

slivered, separated and shaved

they are amazing.

my favorite way is,

of course roasted:

halved and tossed with

olive oil, then cooked at

a high heat until they

are browned

and slightly crisp

and almost sweet.

simple.

when i found baby brussels sprouts

on sunday, so tiny that they

looked too cute not to buy

(yes, i am a sucker),

i brought them home.

this was not the time to thinly slice,

or pull apart into tiny leaves.

instead, i wanted to keep them whole,

roast them and enjoy them like popcorn

(on the side of a sensible meal, of course).

once trimmed

(which oh goodness, reminds me:

there are a ton of brussels sprouts

in a 1 pound bag of minis -

this took a while),

tossed with olive oil

and sprinkled with salt,

i got to work toasting almonds

and garlic together, zesting

and juicing a lemon and waiting.

i didn't have to wait long.

they were browned and sizzling

in 12 minutes. as soon as they came

out of the oven, i emptied the pan

into a bowl with everything else,

shook until it was combined

and, well, that was it.

this recipe is not winning

an award for longest,

trickiest or

most ingredients.

because they cook so fast

and are so small,

you're able to get a relatively

well-rounded brown,

which is great for me -

i like my veggies ultra dark.

extra caramelization =

extra delicious.

and that's what these were,

tiny temptations so good,

i think any kid would have

trouble resisting them.

roasted baby brussels sprouts with lemon and almonds

if these were missing anything, i think it may have been a sprinkling of grated parm, but we were eating them as a side dish for fish. next time, i would add the cheese. normally i'm pretty strict about my mise en place, but this was so no-frill that i was able to stick the brussels sprouts in the oven and have everything ready to toss by the time they came out. and, i know that it's odd to cook the garlic in a dry pan - i was actually skeptical when i decided to do it - but the process worked. they didn't get brown, they just softened enough to lose their strong bite and they cooked a bit more when tossed with the steaming hot sprouts.

1 pound baby brussels sprouts, ends trimmed

1 tablespoon olive oil

kosher salt and cracked black pepper

1/4 cup slivered almonds

3 cloves garlic, peeled and thinly sliced

1 lemon, zested and halved

heat oven to 400˚f. place brussels sprouts on rimmed aluminum foil-lined baking sheet; drizzle with olive oil. sprinkle generously with kosher salt and cracked black pepper. bake 12 minutes, or until spotted with golden deep brown spots, shaking pan twice during cooking to rotate vegetables.

meanwhile, place almonds in small skillet. toast over medium-low heat until just starting to color. add garlic slivers and cook 1 or 2 minutes more, or until garlic is no longer raw and almonds are nicely browned, but not burnt.

place vegetables in bowl; add garlic-almond mixture. squeeze 1/2 lemon over brussels sprouts, catching seeds. add 1 teaspoon lemon zest. toss to combine. season with kosher salt and pepper. transfer to serving bowl. top with strips of lemon peel, if desired.