rosemary focaccia

more times than i can remember,

i've thought that it would be nice

to make focaccia.

and like most things in my life,

and like most things in my kitchen,

once i did,

it was so not a big deal.

why didn't i just do it sooner?

i think it's because, although i often spend

undivided time inside the house,

the idea of having to commit to

a couple hours for first and second

rises just feels overwhelming.

and the other thing is this -

sometimes i make dinner

and it's not so great. something

just didn't come together and it's

missing a squirt of lemon juice

or an herb or it's slightly overcooked

or really, it's a recipe that was never

meant to be. and, for me?

it's unfortunate.

but, it's ok.

i make dinner quite often.

i'll just try again tomorrow.

but baking - i love it,

yet i'm so hesitant to commit.

having to face an entire so-so cake

or a dry tasteless loaf of bread

that i've spent a lot of time on

just hurts.

so, even though i made focaccia

once - in culinary school - i've always

opted for garlic bread, or no bread,

when the occasion strikes.

on sunday, though, jenn was coming

for dinner. she hadn't seen the house

since one day after we closed and

the walls were still painted crazy colors

(seriously, watermelon, brick red and pea

green do not belong in the same room.

especially when all three face a yellow hallway).

i was torn between wanting everything to look

nice and wanting to cook a great meal.

after thinking for about 30 seconds,

i went for the latter: this place,

although now decked out with grey walls,

is not nearing finished readiness. there was

little i could do in five hours to prove

otherwise. instead, i knew i should focus

on what i could potentially

make presentable: dinner.

i decided pretty quickly to try

my hand at absorption pasta, which

i've been meaning to make. normally,

i would not risk attempting a new dish

for company, but jenn knew me in college

when i would invite her over and

cross my fingers that tonight was one

of those nights that i didn't burn the onions.

but, because i was already taking a chance

on the main course, i figured this was the time

to jump in headfirst for the focaccia.

i didn't even think about it:

i grabbed a packet of yeast.

well, kind of.

i needed a recipe.

again, reviews for everything was mixed.

but, then i saw anne burrell's version.

anne burrell. i think she's kind of kooky.

and i love her.

i met her for the first time years ago.

i was working for the magazine and

often attended press events that took

me all over nyc to different restaurants

and sometimes, odd places. but, many - it

seems in retrospect - were at the

culinary loft in the city, a very cool space

with a kitchen area in the back.

in my memory, no matter who

the main attraction was, anne burrell

and her shock of blonde hair was

behind them, moving swiftly around

the kitchen - chopping, boiling,

skimming and plating - as they spoke

about their dishes. they were the face

of the night, anne was the muscle.

after the first time, i went back and

told my editor about this speedy

seems-to-do-a-million-things-at-once

woman. she knew immediately

who i was talking about.

we googled her and pulled

up a picture. from then on, while

everyone was focused on the "star,"

i found myself watching anne. when larry

put on an episode of iron chef,

i noticed that my eyes were always on her.

i just found her fast. and talented -

her food was always delicious.

when she got her show on the food network,

i knew i would watch. and i do, often,

even though i'm often amazed at how

intensely she's obsessed with food.

i mean, i love food.

and ingredients.

and cooking techniques.

and food blogs.

but anne? she takes it to the next level.

sometimes i think she forgets

cameras are there. she loves it all.

times ten.

but you know what?

it's ok. almost all of her recipes

are reviewed amazingly high.

everything that food network

fans make of hers, they love.

and that's why i knew that if

i was going to make focaccia,

i'd want to make hers.

she may be kooky.

but, she knows her food.

the recipe was simple -

water, yeast, sugar,

flour, olive oil, salt.

i wanted to add rosemary.

so here's how it went down:

the hardest part came 10 minutes

in. the flour, salt

and olive oil were sitting in the bowl

of the mixer. the yeast was very

foamy. but the recipe specifically

said to wait at least 15 minutes

before mixing the two. so, i waited.

begrudgingly.

and then, when it came time to

turn the mixer on, i stayed near.

the dough nearly rocked the

ridiculously heavy kitchen aide

off the counter. i stopped it before

it fell to the floor, but it was brutal

in its mission, taking out a measuring cup

and pushing foil to the side, in its fury.

those were the most difficult steps.

after that, the dough came together

beautifully, it kneaded without a problem

and i before i knew it, the smooth round

was sitting in a greased bowl, set off to

the side. it was at that point that i decided

that i needed to make a dessert.

that last minute activity was enough

to get me through that hour and suddenly,

it was time to press the dough

into the pan. it was at this step that i made

my one mistake.

remember that time in culinary school

that i made focaccia? our instructor told

us to load up the pan with olive oil

before adding the dough, to drizzle well

before baking. right before it went into

the oven, she told my group that ours

looked perfect. it was really, really oily.

so this time, i was determined to be

reasonable. focaccia is an oil-laden

(deliciously oil-laden) bread. but, i

didn't want it dripping. i didn't want

jenn's hands to be shiny and have

her wonder why i would serve her

such a grease trap. so i cut back from

what i thought was an overly generous

one cup to about whatever 1/2 cup

plus 1/3 cup comes out to be. and after

it was flat and rose a second time,

there was plenty of oil still dotting

the surface. so just before putting it

in the oven, i tossed on some rosemary

and sprinkles of salt, but i passed on

the extra drizzles of olive oil.

when i checked the bread at

about 20 minutes, it smelled

amazing, but it looked dull.

i wanted to add an egg wash

to make the pale crust glisten,

or maybe while i was making wishes,

go back in time and add the

extra olive oil.

but, you live, you learn and you

serve the bread next to

a salad that has maybe just a little

too much dressing so that people

can dunk their still-pretty-tasty

squares into a

balsamic-laced mixture

and pretend that that's how it

was all supposed to go down,

anyway.

rosemary focaccia

adapted from anne burrell

the only thing that i can really say is that i know this is a lot of olive oil, but that's what focaccia is - a dough that is made with the golden liquid, squished into the dough before it rises a second time and drizzled on top before baking. it's excessive. but, it's what makes it focaccia. just embrace it.

1 packet active dry yeast

1 tablespoon granulated sugar

5 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for kneading

1 tablespoon kosher salt, plus coarse sea salt for sprinkling

1 cup extra-virgin olive oil, divided

1 tablespoon fresh rosemary

fill liquid measuring cup with 1 3/4 cups warm water. sprinkle with yeast and sugar; stir to combine. place cup in warm place; let sit 15 minutes or until the yeast is foamy and aromatic.

coat large bowl lightly with olive oil; set aside.

in bowl of electric mixer, add flour, kosher salt, 1/2 cup olive oil and yeast mixture. combine on low speed just until dough has come together. increase speed to medium and mix 5-6 minutes, or until the mixture is smooth and soft. if you find the mixture to be extra sticky, sprinkle in a touch more of flour.

transfer dough to a clean lightly floured surface; knead by hand one or two times, or just until the mixture smooths out. place in reserved oiled bowl; cover with lightly greased plastic wrap and place in warm place for 1 hour, or until dough has doubled in size.

coat a jelly roll pan with remaining olive oil. turn dough out onto jelly roll pan, pressing to fit. turn the dough over to coat both sides and continue to press until the dough fits the pan. using fingers, make holes all the way through the dough. cover dough with plastic wrap. place in warm place and let sit 1 hour, or until the dough has doubled in size.

meanwhile, heat over to 425˚f.

sprinkle dough with coarse salt and rosemary. drizzle with olive oil. bake 25-30 minutes, or until the bread is golden brown. cool on rack. transfer focaccia to cutting board and cut into squares.

roasted parsnip fries

i love fries that are

super crisp on the outside

and meltingly tender

inside. i also love

fries that are just

really, really crisp.

these fries?

well, they're

neither.

it's just a fact - parsnips,

like sweet potatoes,

never fully reach

their crunch potential.

but, they do taste delicious.

and, if you opt to call them

something different,

like say,

roasted parsnips,

no one will ever complain

about the texture.

they'll be too busy realizing

they've spent way too long

ignoring parsnips.

at least,

that was what happened with me.

i blame it on carrots.

and turnips.

i've told you before that i'm

not crazy about carrots. and once,

a while ago, i had my first turnip

and instantly knew that i did not

care for it. so parsnips,

which look like white carrots

and are often lumped in with

turnips in everyday conversations,

were quickly swept into the

no, thank you pile.

then, a couple years ago,

i was served a parsnip, roasted,

and i could not believe what

i was tasting: earthy, sweet,

deep-flavored and truly tender

vegetables that were hard to forget.

i've made them many times

since, very simply tossed

with olive oil and roasted.

and to be honest,

this side dish didn't really

seem like one worth

telling you about.

doesn't everyone toss their

veggies with oil

and roast them

these days?

but the last time i went to

make them - feeling funny

because it's spring and i should

be talking about

peas,

artichokes,

rhubarb

and asparagus - larry asked

why i haven't blogged about these

tender veggies.

and he's right.

they're often the right answer to

a very popular question in my house:

what should i serve this with?

once they're peeled and trimmed,

they're very quick to toss together:

just a little vinegar,

a little olive oil,

some cayenne, salt and pepper.

and, when they come out of the oven

sweet and golden,

they're just waiting to be eaten

a little improperly with fingers,

not forks and knives.

so i took some pictures -

some very, very white,

bland pictures that the

magazine i used to work

for would never approve of -

and made myself measure

out ingredients. and when

they were done, they were

yummy.

not crisp, not crunchy,

but yummy.

and if you can rationalize,

as i can, that spring

vegetables are just (just) starting

to show their green selves in

the markets. and today, at least,

it's freezing outside - much more a day

for roasted root veggies that

are admittedly a little bit autumn,

than for grilled fava beans,

which usually belong smack in

the middle of april,

i hope you'll be able to enjoy them

as much as we do.

roasted parsnip fries

here's the deal with parsnips: smaller ones can be cut and quartered. larger ones, which yield a larger quantity of sticks (usually eight), need to be slightly cored. it's your call - here, i used five medium-large parsnips. and, one more thing, using two baking pans will increase your chances of getting even a little bit of crispness out of some of your parsnips. when you force all pieces to share one baking sheet, they're too close together, causing them to steam, not roast.

5 medium-large parsnips, peeled

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 tablespoon red wine vinegar

cayenne pepper

salt

pepper

heat oven to 425˚f.

quarter one parsnip; cut cores out of centers. halve each piece lengthwise. you should have 8 parsnip fries. repeat with remaining parsnips.

in bowl, toss together parsnips, vinegar, olive oil, 2-3 pinches cayenne pepper and a few very healthy pinches salt and pepper. arrange parsnips in single on two parchment paper or aluminum foil-lined baking sheets, separating to make sure there is space around each parsnip.

roast 12 minutes; flip parsnips. sprinkle with a little salt and drizzle with olive oil, if desired. roast 12-14 minutes more, or until golden brown and tender. (i usually start looking in the oven after about 10 minutes.

and then i made

it's kind of weird to admit this,

but fava beans were

non-existent in my life,

until this year.

i don't know why or how

that happened,

but this spring,

they were everywhere -

as i'm sure they've probably

been every spring -

and somehow, i spotted

this recipe, and so began

my extreme approval

and interest in fava beans.

somewhat similar to edamame,

but larger, softer and

boasting a much

greener flavor,

these beans are easily adaptable to

tons of recipes and flavor

profiles.

but, unlike other things,

i like these simple

so that you can really enjoy

the fruits of your labor.

(i might as well tell you,

fresh fava beans are

not for fast meals.

if you, like me,

have never peered inside

a fava bean before,

it may feel like a

mysterious process: once

you shuck the outer pod from

each shell, you then must also

remove the second skin that

clings to each bean.

it's called,

double peeling.)

so - simple.

after finding ridiculously huge

fava beans at the market,

i knew that i would have enough

to support and star in

a dish for two.

lo and behold,

once shelled, we had

the perfect amount.

this recipe,

by bobby flay,

recommends blanching the

beans once removed from their

pods, making it easier to remove

the second skin.

he, of course, was right.

with this method, they just pop

right out.

i prepared them ahead of time

and then waited until about 10

minutes before dinner to toss

them with the fast vinaigrette.

lemon

and garlic

make for a very fresh salad,

shaving manchego on top

makes the otherwise

simple dish, memorable.

just make sure you pick

up a manchego worthy

of the fava beans - i'm not

sure that i did, this time around.

i know that i'm pushing it -

finding fava beans at the store

right now would be a

(somewhat scary) miracle -

but if you do come across

the pods, count your blessings,

grab a large bunch

and make this salad.

lemon and garlic fava beans with manchego

adapted from bobby flay

i halved the recipe, which is how i wrote it here, but it is obviously, very easy to double. i liked the lemony side, so i only used one tablespoon of olive oil (instead of two). as usual, i left off the tablespoon of chopped flatleaf parsley, but it would absolutely add a nice green.

2 pounds fava beans (about 2 cups shucked beans)

1 lemon, juiced (about 2 tablespoons)

2 cloves garlic, finely chopped

kosher salt

cracked black pepper

1 tablespoon olive oil

2 ounces manchego cheese, thinly shaved

shuck beans. fill large bowl with ice water; set aside. in large saucepot bring water to a boil; salt well. add beans and cook 3 minutes, or until tender. immediately plunge beans into ice water to cool. drain water; remove beans from outer skin.

in medium bowl, combine lemon juice, garlic and add salt and pepper, to taste. drizzle in olive oil, whisking constantly. add beans; gently toss to coat. top with manchego cheese.