how we got here

this recipe for waffles,

prepared from a batter that has sat

at room temperature overnight,

has been all over the internet

for quite a while -

and before that, an intimate

member of many people's kitchens

for years.

so, when i made a batch,

um, six weeks ago, i didn't

plan to tell you about the waffles.

i really thought that instead,

i'd tell you about my experience

making them. about how, i really

wanted to make these. so

much so, that i ignored common

sense, like the fact that even though every

single time i read about the recipe

it said not to make them in a belgian

waffle maker, i realized that's all i had

and shrugged my shoulders, sure

that it wouldn't matter.

or, like the fact that we were

going to a party the night before

and i though it might be pretty late

when we got home. or this fact:

when larry and jenn and i returned

home from a party at lauren's house

it was clearly well past midnight,

both larry and jenn

were bordering on cranky (jenn,

certainly playing the part of the trooper;

larry, not so much) and neither one

of them were very interested in waiting

the five minutes it took

to melt the butter,

measure the ingredients and

whisk them all together.

or these facts:

i'm not sure that i'm

so in love with waffles,

i never make breakfast and

had to buy maple syrup just

for this meal, i bought completely

politically incorrect out of season,

crazy expensive (and super sweet)

blueberries to go on top and,

i insisted that we wait an extra hour

so that larry could go get orange juice

and large eggs when

we realized that we only had

x-large in the house.

but, the thing is - it's been

six weeks. they were good.

really good. but, i almost forgot

about the whole waffle

experience until i finally got around

to downloading all the pictures from

my camera very recently (oh, hello,

super bowl) and at this point, i just

wanted to tell you i made them and

show you the pictures.

so, after all of that,

here's what i learned and what

i remember about these

yeasty, not so sweet, waffles.

-all those internet folks are correct:

they are thin squares, much more

interested in crisping delicately

than rising. this lead me to my next

finding.

-even though it turns out you can

flip waffles, it's still kind of weird

to do so.

-they'll make your house smell

faintly of soft pretzels, in the best

possibly way.

-they taste delicious on their own,

but even better with said

fresh blueberries and maple syrup.

-they're good enough to uncrank

those who may have woken up still

a little bit cranky. if i do say so myself.

marion cunningham's raised waffles

adapted from about a million places

i can't prove this to you, but clearly i think it's better to make these waffles in a standard waffle maker. as i said, they're not very sweet, but if that's upsetting to you, it's nothing a little syrup, fruit or whipped cream couldn't fix. and, while some people i know may think otherwise, i feel it's important enough to highlight a great piece to this recipe - almost all of it is prepared the night before so that the morning of, all you have to do is add eggs and baking soda, whisk and pour into the hot machine.

also, if you can handle it, i recommend melting the butter, then sprinkling the yeast over the water and then warming the milk.

1/2 cup warm water

1 package (2.25 teaspoons) dry yeast

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon granulated sugar

2 cups whole milk, warmed

1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled

2 large eggs

1/4 teaspoon baking soda

fresh blueberries, if desired

maple syrup, if desired

place water in large mixing bowl; sprinkle yeast over water. let stand 5 minutes.

add flour, salt, sugar, warm milk and melted butter; whisk until smooth (you could also use electric beaters). cover tightly with plastic wrap; place on counter and let stand overnight.

the next morning, heat oven to 250˚f.

heat waffle maker according to the machine's instructions (my waffle iron doesn't seem to have a temperature setting, but i read around and most who made these waffles recommend a medium-high setting).

whisk the eggs and baking soda into batter. in batches, pour batter into hot waffle maker (note: i absolutely did not use enough the first time and adjusted upward from that point on. however, i think i became a little too comfortable by the fourth batch and there was a bit of overflow. oops.). cook according to the waffle maker's instructions.

as the waffles finish cooking, transfer to foil-lined baking sheet; place pan in oven. add waffles to the baking sheet as they come off the iron.

berry summer pudding

there have been several times

since starting the blog

that i've been more than

grateful for the name

i assigned this space over

two years ago - originally wanting

to title my journal whatever it

would become: something

that was appropriate,

meaningful,

true and with a back story.

and, not lazy. rustic.

has been good to me on

many occasions - but never,

i think so much as right now,

thanks to this funky looking

summer pudding.

it looks bad. i know.

did you consider not even

reading the recipe when you

saw the picture?

wait until you see the one

below - it was almost enough

to make me not write about it.

but then something happened

that changed my mind:

i had a bite.

and it was too good not to

talk about.

--

i feel like over the course of my

writing here, i have not

necessarily been fair to the

magazine that i used to work for.

it's true - i had a hard time there

in many ways for many years.

but, that job gave me a lot

of things that i would be a fool

to not recognize:

it gave me amazing friends

who are an important part of

my life in many ways.

it made me realize that i wanted

to always work in a field that

involved food in some way.

my experiences were a major impetus in my

decision to go to culinary school.

it taught me to be tough and

believe in myself just a little bit.

it - i think - made me a better boss,

in my current position

than i would have been without

those tough experiences.

and, most relevant today, working

at the magazine taught me about

summer pudding.

i had never heard of summer pudding

before the day that i walked up to the

text kitchen for our daily tasting, at least

seven years ago. my mom made a lot of

bread pudding while i was growing up, but i had never

had this cold version, made without

vanilla or milk or even eggs, and instead

several pints of berries.

in fact, when i first took i bite,

i had no idea that bread was even part of

the dessert. it was purple - fresh and sweet -

and somehow - it all clung together.

i thought there must be gelatin.

but, no, our test kitchen director, said.

no gelatin, just natural pectin from the

blueberries that are released when

simmered together.

i was in love.

and the best part was this - magazines work

months ahead of time. for a recipe to get on

the page, it has to be conceptualized, tested several

times until it's perfect, recreated for the camera,

written about, edited and sent to press. so it

is quite normal to start working on halloween in

april or may. i often made promises to myself that

when the recipe was in season, i would make it

at home. i think that maybe happened three times.

in six years.

instead, almost every summer we published

a variation - sometimes using

only raspberries or a combination of

every berry you could think of, sometimes

the bread was layered between the fruit

and other times the puddings were formed

as minis in little ramekins instead of one

large souffle dish.

every year i promised myself i would make

one at home. but, you already know that i

never did. then this year, i was talking to

my friend and he mentioned that his wife

was going to make a berry trifle - i'm not

sure why, but that triggered my memory.

summer pudding was on.

--

i knew that although the flavors meld

together creating one super berry,

i wanted to only use

strawberries and blueberries,

my favorite of the berries. unfortunately,

all of my copies of the magazine

are packed away, so i needed to find

a recipe calling for just those two

from somewhere else. as often happens,

epicurious is my best friend,

and it featured a recipe from

bon appetit for

strawberry and blueberry summer pudding.

so, i picked out gorgeous ruby red

strawberries and huge, plump

blueberries.

larry and i scoured the bread aisle

in search of a "hearty white bread,"

wanting to make sure that the dessert

was not gummy, but also, that

the juice would seep through to the

bottom as it sat overnight.

the recipe specifically said

pepperidge farm and i decided

this was not the time to be

creative, so i picked up the firmest

loaf the brand provided.

the evening i was making this,

we had dinner plans and i had

to move fast. while i sliced

the strawberries, larry

measured out blueberries.

after larry took a fork away from

me and started breaking down the strawberries

with a masher (um, hello, brooke), i

simmered and stirred the blueberries.

while i lined the bowl with bread slices,

larry played odb and jay-z on itunes.

ok, maybe something went a little wrong

there, but at least he was still in

the kitchen with me.

the bread lining. i knew it wouldn't be

beautiful. it involved straight lines,

perfect fits. in some ways, i was very proud

of the job i did. in other ways, i knew

i should have done better. i looked at it this

way: there was a bowl, it was lined with bread.

victory.

i poured in the blueberry and strawberry

mixture and covered with the top layer of bread.

i covered it with plastic wrap, grabbed a plate

that was slightly smaller than the bowl and tried

to top it with four pounds of canned goods,

which was the hardest part of this whole thing.

then, i spent the next 24 hours

watching it, adjusting the placement of

the cans, switching out the tiny plate for

a large plate and sometimes, just pushing

on it myself. i could see that only select

spots were turning purple, instead of the

entire thing. it wasn't looking good.

but, it was what i made and i refused

to turn my back. just before dessert,

i tossed heavy cream in a bowl

with sour cream and beat them together,

adding a few shakes of confectioners' sugar.

mmm, delicious. if nothing else,

everyone could eat this tangy whipped cream

by the spoonful.

next, i unmolded the pudding.

the good news was that it worked:

the dessert held its shape, instead

of collapsing into a heap, spilling

everywhere, as could have happened.

the bad news was that it looked like this:

i stared at it.

my mom walked over and told me,

as moms do, that she was sure it would

still taste great. oh well.

to my surprise, it actually cut into wedges.

and even more to my surprise,

everyone really seemed to enjoy this

ugly, ugly dessert:

bursting with berries,

sweet and fresh.

just like i remembered.

berry summer pudding

adapted from bon appetit magazine

next time i try this, i'm considering three things: the first would be to strain the berry mixture slightly, reserving the juices to pour over the top in case berries don't seep through, again. my other two thoughts would be to either, gently dip the bread into the simmered berries to get a jumpstart or to just mix the bread in with the berries, instead of layering it on the bottom (but, i'm not so sure that one would work). or, if i decide to just embrace the tie-dyed look, i could make it the same way all over again.

the original recipe called for buttering the bread before adding the fruit, but i've never seen a summer pudding recipe call for butter and it seemed unnecessary, so i left it out.

2 pounds strawberries, hulled and sliced

6 tablespoons granulated sugar, divided

pinch of salt

1 pound of blueberries (about 3 heaping cups)

12 slices firm white bread, crusts removed

in large bowl using potato masher, mash strawberries, 2 tablespoons sugar and salt into a puree.

in medium saucepot over medium heat, stir together blueberries and remaining sugar 7 minutes, or until sugar dissolves and the blueberries start to release their juices. increase heat to high and bring to a boil; boil 5 minutes, or until mixture thickens slightly, stirring often. remove from heat. stir in strawberry mixture. set aside.

line 6-cup bowl with three sheets of plastic wrap, leaving at least a six-inch overhang. line bowl with bread, cutting slices to cover bowl completely. pour in berry mixture. top with remaining bread slices. fold plastic wrap over bread. place plate over bowl. (just a note: the recipe instructed to use a slightly smaller plate than the open bowl, but after a few hours, it just didn't make much sense to me, so i switched to a larger plate. that still didn't work, but at least i felt better about my chances.) weigh down with 4 pounds of canned goods or dried beans. chill at least 12 hours.

to serve, i blended together heavy cream, two spoonfuls of sour cream and a couple shakes of confectioners' sugar until peaks formed. i didn't measure - sometimes there just isn't a reason to. once the cream was whipped, i unwrapped the plastic wrap and unmolded onto a plate. the pudding cut into wedges, but i was prepared to scoop, if necessary.

note: my sisters, who ate the leftovers a couple days later said it was even better after a few days of sitting. they also mentioned that the bread did turn purple. small victories, i guess.

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.