pasta with ricotta, peas and basil

we've always been committed

to home cooking,

but since we've moved,

i feel like we've strengthened our resolve.

we were always strict,

sunday to thursday,

but on friday and saturday it was

so easy, and so nice, to just go out,

get out, be somewhere else.

but, we knew that when we moved,

we'd give up a lot of that up,

using time at a restaurant as a

special treat, not a given.

so, we've been in the kitchen quite a bit.

but, instead of the very involved

dinners i used to take on without

a thought, now that we wake up very early

and both of our commutes are taxing,

i feel like we're not really cooking.

we're stirring some ingredients

together, turning on the oven and loving

the quick boil option on our range.

but, except for a handful of things -

larry's addictive guacamole,

a salad with scallops and watermelon,

boursin-stuffed turkey burgers we made

for father's day -

i can't really remember most of

what we've eaten. and that obviously means,

there's not so much to write about.

but this dish?

this is one i should have told you

about a year ago.

it's by no means a

company's coming meal.

but, it's fast, it can be made without an oven -

vital right now in this 100 degree heat - and uses

no more than a pot, a bowl and a spatula.

and, i think it tastes pretty darn good, too.

i usually save it for a day in which we

need dinner pretty quickly, or one in which

it's too hot outside to muster up much else.

but this time, the day started out as neither

and i wondered if i was wasting it on a

pleasantly warm easy-going day. but then,

fate stepped in and kept me at work

one hour later than expected for something

i never would have expected and once i

finally got out of there, i crawled in traffic

for almost two hours. suddenly, pasta

tossed with ricotta, peas, lemon and basil

seemed perfect.

i quickly said hello to larry

who was outside,

trimming a hedge.

after i put a pot of water over the flame

and then remembered that the precious

rapid boil also means that i have to

prep quite fast, i pulled out the ingredients.

ricotta,

a good hunk of parm,

a lemon,

basil,

salt,

pepper,

and this time,

a clove of purple garlic.

purple garlic.

i'm usually content with

run of the mill cloves, but

last week i saw purple garlic

at the market and snapped

it up the same way i had

pink lemons a year earlier.

but, like the pink lemons whose

flesh was like that of a pale grapefruit,

but boasted the flavor

of typical everyday lemon,

i felt duped. purple garlic

is sheathed in a purple skin,

but on the inside, it's just as

cream-colored as the next.

here's the one difference though -

purple garlic is significantly stronger

and sharper. i used only one clove,

albeit, one that was certainly larger

than usual, but still nothing crazy.

as soon as i tasted the creamy mixture

for seasoning, i knew we were in

trouble. it was garlicky.

really, really garlicky.

but, back to the pasta.

i usually turn to shells,

or something else that

acts like a vessel for

creamy dollops of the lemony ricotta

and the still firm peas.

once they're in the water - or maybe

a little before - i grate lemon zest and

parm into the cheese. i roll basil leaves

into a cigar and trim them thinly

into a chiffonade. i chop a clove of garlic.

i add them, along with kosher salt,

a healthy dose of black pepper and

a large squeeze of lemon juice,

to the bowl. i mix. and i taste.

then, i adjust. some days the

mixture is screaming for another hit

of lemon, other times it's lacking

black pepper or another pinch

of salt. sometimes (but, no,

not this time) it needs more garlic.

this night, the culprit was basil.

and i didn't have any left.

so, in went chives, which we took

from our pot of chives outside

on the deck. the tiny snips were

a new, but welcome, addition.

it was then that i looked at the clock

and saw that there were 4 minutes left

of boiling time. lucky. i poured peas

into the pot of pasta and let them

simmer away, bobbing in time

with the bubbles breaking on the

water's surface.

and soon,

the timer was beeping,

the pasta and peas were drained.

i poured them,

with a little water still clinging,

into the ricotta and mixed.

we haven't had this dish in over

a year and as soon as i tasted a

piece of pasta for final seasoning,

i was transported back to our apartment,

last may, when it was sweltering outside,

and inside as well. i remembered that last

year, even though the only heat came

from the steam of the boiling water,

when we ate, on the floor and at

our coffee table,

i was too hot to enjoy.

this time, i portioned two bowls,

sat down with larry

at the dining room table and was

thankful for no frills meals

on crazy days.

and, for my chive plant outside.

and, for the deck.

and, for the air conditioning.

pasta with ricotta, peas and basil

this is really good with homemade ricotta (you can find the recipe, here), and really it doesn't add that much more hands on time. but, if cheesemaking is not in the cards for your evening, i will not give you even a second of grief for buying a container. if there are fresh peas in the market, it's your lucky day. but, again, if it's not springtime and you buy frozen, as i did this time, no grief. just remember to mix, taste, adjust and taste again until it's perfect for you.

1 pound pasta (i like medium shells)

1 pound fresh or frozen peas

1 pound ricotta cheese (i usually use part-skim if i buy)

3/4 cup freshly grated parm

1 lemon, zested and halved (seeds removed)

1 large clove garlic, peeled and chopped

1/2 cup fresh basil

20 chives

in large pot of salted water, cook pasta according to package directions, adding frozen peas to the water when there is still 4 minutes left of cooking time. (i like mine still with a little pop, but if you prefer yours softer, adjust accordingly. also, if you are using fresh peas, 2-3 minutes should work.)

meanwhile, in bowl, combine ricotta, parm, lemon zest and chopped garlic. stack basil leaves, roll stack into a tight cigar shape and thinly slice with sharp knife (you may need to make two stacks); add to bowl. using scissors, snip chives directly into the bowl. remove seeds from lemon halves and squeeze in juice. season with salt and pepper. taste and adjust.

add hot pasta and peas to ricotta mixture and stir gently to combine. taste and quickly adjust seasoning, if necessary. divide among bowls and top with chopped chives, if desired.

cod with orange, avocado and jalapeno salsa

i think the mention of a quick dinner

conjures up images of

pasta with jarred sauce or a pat of butter,

tortillas topped with melted cheese and hot beans,

frozen meals that are heated in the microwave.

maybe a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

but, rarely, when you ask someone for a

speedy dinner suggestion, do they offer up fish.

i'm no exception.

i see shrimp and think, peeling and deveining.

i look at mussels and think, cleaning and debearding.

clams - scrubbing,

salmon - pinbones,

monkfish - membranes.

but the truth is, fish and seafood are both very fast:

shrimp (especially when purchased

ready to cook) and scallops

are just a literal flash in the pan,

clams and mussels steam open

in minutes

and fillets of fish?

just as quick.

plus, unlike an unadorned bowl

of pasta or a microwave-melted

quesadilla, you really feel like

you've made a meal to be

proud of.

this classic in our home -

topped with a toss-together

avocado, orange, red onion

and jalapeno salsa -

pops up both

this time of year and in

the summer, for some reason

often taking fall and spring

vacations. i think, though,

it's not too hard to figure out

why that happens.

in the summer, it's hot and we,

like everyone, crave simple, refreshing

dinners that don't take a lot of kitchen time

or a hot oven. in the winter, citrus makes its

huge comeback, filling bin upon bin in the

grocery store and usually somewhere nearby

are avocados, most likely on sale.

the first time i made this recipe,

was several winters ago and i hadn't yet

figured out that mahi-mahi -

the fish originally called for -

is not one of my favorites.

i went to the store to pick up the

two fillets - everything else was already

in my kitchen - cooked them, topped

them with the orange mixture and

realized how good it was.

i also decided that next time,

i would use a different fish.

since then, i have made this

crazy easy dinner many, many times,

finally deciding that i love the salsa

over flaky cod, trying all different types

of oranges from navel to blood to at last,

the cara cara that the recipe requests.

at times, i've been lucky enough to find

a red jalapeno, but often i end up using

a readily-available green. i've left out

the lime juice, squeezed in lemon, stirred

in chopped leaves of cilantro and doubled

the fruit. and at this point, i don't look

at a recipe, using whatever i have at home

or if inspiration strikes at the market,

whatever looks good.

i usually prep the oranges,

chop the red onion and the pepper,

combine all three,

season with salt and a touch of pepper

and then move the bowl to the side.

once the fish is searing -

always using a nonstick pan and the

10-minutes per 1-inch of fish rule -

i cube the avocado and add it to

the oranges. by the time i've pulled

down the plates and grabbed the forks

and knives, the fish is beautifully browned.

once topped with generous spoonfuls

of the oranges and avocados,

it's hard to argue with this quick meal.

because really, this is one of those simple

dishes in which the final product is a direct

result of what you put in it. pick up

a juicy, fragrant and sweet orange,

a tender avocado that yields gently to the touch

and a spicy jalapeno - you're good to go.

spoon it over decadently moist piece of

seared fish - you'll never regret it.

cod with orange, avocado and jalapeno salsa

adapted from bon appetit magazine

the original recipe calls for a cara cara, blood or regular orange, but the appearance of the blood oranges were not for me. if you can find a cara cara - orange on the outside, but pink-hued in the center - grab it: the flesh is very sweet. over time, i've increased the oranges from 1 to 2 and i never bother measuring anything, just using my eyes as a guide. also, i have marinated the fish for 15-20 minutes before cooking it, which is delicious, but i love it simply seasoned with salt and pepper, too.

this time, for a side dish, i used red quinoa that i tossed with a squeeze of lime (plus it got an extra boost from the juices of the orange mixture). i've also served the fish alongside couscous, brown rice or spinach.

2 cara cara or navel oranges

1 quarter small red onion, peeled and finely diced

1/2-1 whole jalapeno pepper, seeded and chopped

1 lime, juiced

2 teaspoons olive oil

2 fillets cod (about 6 ounces each)

1 avocado (or less)

segment the oranges: using sharp knife, trim top and bottom from oranges. using paring knife, carefully remove peel and white pith from oranges, curving to follow the shape of the oranges. hold orange over a small bowl to catch juices; cut between membranes to remove wedges, placing wedges in bowl as you go (the end goal is to have segments of oranges without membrane or pith attached). once all wedges are removed, i like to squeeze what's left into the bowl to extract any remaining juice.

stir onions, jalapeno and lime juice into bowl; season with salt and pepper.

in large nonstick pan over high heat, heat olive oil 30 seconds. carefully add fillets; cook 10 minutes, turning once (if the fish is thinner than 1-inch, scale down cooking time slightly). transfer fillets to plate.

meanwhile, halve and pit avocados. using sharp knife, score cubes into the avocado halves, going all the way down to the peel. using spoon, scoop out avocado cubes and gently toss with orange mixture.

spoon orange mixture and its juices over fish.

too hot to bake? make it quick.

when i was little,

my mom had what we

affectionately called,

"herman's cellar" in our basement.

she would collect small gifts,

olive oils,

bath salts,

board games and

stuffed animals.

if we were called

to a birthday party, dinner or

friend's house unexpectedly,

we were always prepared.

these were emergency gifts only -

never a fund to be dipped into

if we knew our plans

ahead of time.

i was taught

to never

show up at someone's

house without,

but instead,

with a bottle of wine,

a little present,

or most often for me, now,

something that comes

out of the kitchen.

a few weeks ago -

yes, i'm that behind

in posting -

larry's friend brian

was visiting from arizona.

i knew we would see him,

but i really thought we would

be meeting at a restaurant

or a bar. last minute - for me,

anyway - i found out we were going

to another friend's house instead.

larry thought i was more than

a little crazy when i started ranting

about needing to bring something,

not having anything in the house,

not feeling right about showing up

without something in our hands

to say, here, thanks for having us.

he looked at me with a look that

clearly said,

we are going to

sit in someone's backyard and

drink a few beers. nobody is

expecting you to show up

with a warm bundt cake.

calm down.

and so we went.

it was fine.

we were not judged.

the next day,

it was so hot.

unbelievably hot.

we had gotten home

late the night before,

and in turn, slept late,

so the whole day was

off to a faulty start.

the sunday morning

coffee only made us hotter.

and when we finally burst

outside - because it felt like

we were literally flinging

ourselves out the door in

hopes that it would not be

as hot in the fresh air -

we learned the truth:

it was not only a hot day,

but a humid one, too.

we went to the farmer's

market and then out to lunch

before embarking on

what was to be remembered

as, a very bad moment.

i had heard about a

fair at mitsuwa, the place

that larry still has very little

love for. but he was willing to go.

we drove there and, if you have

never seen a parking lot that

is always a madhouse, seemingly

designed only to make you

feel like you're going a little

crazy,

plan a trip to edgewater on the

weekend. this place needs a traffic cop -

on a regular day.

on this hot, festival of a day,

we needed to get out of

there, fair or no fair.

i was on the phone with blair,

larry was trying to manuever

horribly impatient people,

not only heading the wrong

way, but willing to cut

off their opposition at any

turn. the anxiety, the look

on larry's face, the car in front

of us that almost backed up

into an entire family was

making me even hotter.

blair asked if i wanted to call

her back, and i knew it was in

my best interest to take her

up on the offer.

in spite of his obvious state,

larry was still willing to

go, in fact i think he was

now determined.

we left the lot headed for

the overfill parking spaces

straight across the street

and we were forced

to make a right turn.

it took us

two failed attempts to get inside

the second lot -

i spent the entire time saying

that we didn't have to go.

once we finally parked and

started the walk across

the street, larry checked a message

on his phone that he had smartly

ignored during the parking fiasco.

brian's dad was inviting everyone

over for a barbecue.

i looked at the clock.

it was 3pm.

i thought i had known how

my sunday was going to play out -

we would visit inside the market,

stop at another grocery store

to buy ingredients for the week,

and then i would head home

to make dinner for both

sunday and monday night,

because i knew i had to work

late the next night.

i was hot and sticky and

i wanted to shower.

i needed to rest.

i needed to blog.

i really needed to wash my hair.

larry read this all in my eyes.

he countered back that if i left

him a clear recipe,

he would make whatever it

was that i was planning to make

the next night.

and that, is how, larry ended up

making his first torte.

i knew my new fate.

as we got in the car,

i knew i had to bring something.

maybe it was somewhat ok

to show up at a friend's to

hang out with empty hands,

but certainly, it was not acceptable

to walk into a friend's parents

house without a gift.

especially the parent of larry's

oldest friend, one he had known

forever. in my mind, i imagined

them all talking about the

ill-manored heathen larry

had married.

damn it.

i was baking.

now, this is where i should

probably stop my own

story, not just because it's

the right thing to do,

but also the true thing

to admit: larry's friends and

their families are very nice

people who have never

been anything but warm

and welcoming to me,

but my mind has always

been a bit overactive.

i'm sure that last bit comes

as quite a shock to you.

so, with an hour and 15 minutes

to spare, we got home

and i started

measuring out the ingredients

to the kitchen's easiest cookies -

ones that have bailed me out

of many situations,

made larry look like a genius

at a company christmas party,

were published in the magazine

i used to work for and

originally came from my mother.

it's hard to beat the incredibly

unforgettable ratio of

1 cup peanut butter

1 cup sugar

1 egg.

in fact, i probably don't

need to even give you a recipe

now that i've provided

that information.

what i'm not sure about,

is what in the world made

me stop to take pictures

when i was obviously

short on time and it was

so hot that not only was

i still sweating, but so was

the egg.

the only trick to these cookies,

if you even want to call it that,

is that once the ingredients are all

mixed together,

if the dough is warm or loose,

it's best to chill it for a bit

before forming into balls.

best case scenario, i like 30 minutes.

this time, i gave them ten.

which of course meant,

i had "time" to think about the

cookies and whether or not

i really wanted them to be plain.

i was about to pull out a bag

of chocolate chips to stir in -

which i've done plenty of time -

when i remembered the

whisky ganache,

cooling its heals in the fridge.

should i?

no.

did i?

of course.

it wasn't so bad.

i broke off completely

uneven squares and then

placed each in a flattened

piece of dough, which

i rolled into a ball.

i handed the formed balls to larry,

who rolled them in sugar

and placed them on the

baking sheet.

in 10 minutes,

they were done and i

could hop in the shower.

15 minutes later,

i knew i had two choices:

do my hair or take

pictures of the cookies.

i took pictures,

stuffed them into a container

and slipped on my flip-flops.

we actually got into the car

3 minutes ahead of schedule

and when we got to

brian's dad's house, i was so

relieved to be in an

air-conditioned home

where someone else

was cooking -

deliciously -

and there was juicy fresh fruit

on the table,

i almost forgot about

the day.

almost.

emergency peanut butter cookies

you can of course, just mix everything together, but i've found everything much easier to incorporate, when i first whisk together the sugar and the egg and then stir in the peanut butter. when it's time to roll - greasing your hands first will make you much happier.

and, if you don't want to roll them into balls and dip them in sugar, you can also just drop them by the spoonful on the baking sheet.

1 egg

1 cup sugar

1 cup peanut butter, smooth or chunky

handful of chocolate chips, if desired

sugar, for rolling

heat oven to 350˚f. in bowl, whisk together egg and sugar. stir in peanut butter, until incorporated (if a wooden spoon isn't doing the trick, use your clean hands to mix everything together). add chocolate chips, if using. chill until 10-3o minutes, or until firmer, if necessary.

place sugar in a small bowl. grease hands with cooking spray. break off pieces of dough (about 1 tablespoonful) and roll into a ball. roll in sugar and place on ungreased baking sheet. bake 10-12 minutes, or until golden brown on bottom. let sit 2 minutes on baking sheet. transfer cookies to cooling rack; let sit until completely cool.