herbed olive and walnut spread

about four and a half years ago,

i was preparing to host friends

for the weekend.

for most people,

that means

cleaning a bit,

making restaurant reservations

and maybe,

planning a meal or two

to make for their guests.

for me,

living in a studio apartment -

a place in which

i made a big production when

showing people around: this is

the living room, and then this

(pulling them two feet

closer to me) is the bedroom,

right there to the left of your foot,

that piece of floor is the

dining room -

overnight guests meant

a complete overhaul.

i mean, really. when your

guests are going to spend

the night sleeping on the floor,

an arms-length away,

there is not a space to even

hide anything.

and making dinner?

that's really out of the question.

while it may have been fine for

me to make a mess - because there

was no other choice, in my surprisingly

spacious kitchen (it's relative, you see) -

and then for larry and i to eat dinner

on the floor, it's not really the kind

of behavior you can

impose on people nice enough to point

out that you're hosting them

in shoebox.

so instead,

when i had guests, i opted

to make reservations and start

the night with appetizers that could

be made ahead of time -

four people could comfortably

sit on the love seat and two

small chairs i kept hidden

in the corner for such occasions.

and i did have a little side table.

so when our friends were

coming to stay,

i took a familiar route.

make delicious nibbles of things

so that people were so

overcome by the food,

they forgot to focus on the

fact that my mixer sat

next to the couch, like pretend art

and, that my television was

on the dresser.

it sounds silly now, but i really

did think i could distract with food.

i settled on two

spreads:

blue cheese with caramelized shallots,

and

olive and walnut.

both good, i took a particular liking

to the slightly spicy, mustardy and

herb-infused olives.

i couldn't wait

to serve them the next night.

the next night.

i got an extremely

good lesson in knowing your audience.

i set the dips out and found out that

one of them despised

both blue cheese and olives.

i didn't blame her -

if someone put a plate

of fennel in front of me,

i don't think all the

trying and politeness

in the world would help me finish,

let alone start in on it.

but, i was still bummed.

that week, i used the spread a lot

in other dishes,

deciding that even though it hadn't

been a hit with everyone,

i had still stumbled upon

something delicious.

--

my mom's friend, judy, hosts

us and a couple other families

for a gathering every september.

it's a night based on tradition:

my mom always brings the chicken,

judy always make brisket,

someone always brings a platter

of homemade chocolates from his shop

and another is responsible for the

kugel and creamed herring.

it goes on.

over the years, i had played around,

making dessert,

trying different appetizers,

but nothing stuck.

that year, i decided to test the

olive spread with another group.

it was quite well received and i

felt relieved that i finally had my thing.

it's nice.

i'm always so concerned with

finding the perfect recipe

for the situation.

i spend hours - if not days -

on the internet,

reading through my cookbooks

and weighing out my options.

it's more than a relief to have

one thing that is on auto pilot.

but more than that,

this is a recipe worth making

over and over. it is quite

simple, especially with two

new additions:

1) i have upgraded from a

mini food processor

to a standard so that i can now

make everything in

one batch instead

of three.

2) two years ago, i finally gave in

and purchased pitted olives

instead of pitting my own.

so worth it.

but even with those original

handicaps, this recipe was nothing

to get nervous about.

thanks to the walnuts and spices,

it will always be very good and simple.

the crunch of the nuts

give the otherwise smooth dish,

welcome texture and obviously, a nuttiness

that plays well against

the briny olives.

over the years, i've taken to adding

more mustard and herbs, which

i think is worth it to make the

whole thing pop.

oh, a couple things about the herbs.

i've switched to dried because as

much as i'm a fan of fresh, it's hard

to rationalize buying a huge bunch

for 1 teaspoon-worth -

and, i'm the kind of person

who typically keeps away

from anything marked herbed

out of fear of intense herbiness.

but in this case, they are still

a background note -

and one that works beautifully.

i've also upped the cayenne because

i like the idea of a very slight

gentle heat at the end of each bite.

ultimately, this really is

a very simple food processor recipe,

so nothing is stopping you from

tweaking here and there until

it's adjusted to suit you perfectly.

i secretly always wish for leftovers

because the spread is perfect

with tomatoes on bread

and more recently, i've used it to mimic

a very memorable dish

that i enjoyed in charleston a few years ago:

hot pasta, tossed with tapenade,

goat cheese and a few splashes of pasta water.

once, i mixed all three together before adding

to the pasta, but i realized that the restaurant

had been right, there's something delicious

about an occasional bite having only

goat cheese or only the olives.

so now, i add dollops of each to the pasta,

then mix. it makes the whole thing

taste hand-crafted.

last week, i made the spread

for the sixth time and i absolutely

like it as much now as i did the

first time i served it.

everyone else seems to, too.

oh, and when larry and i moved

in together, i felt instantly

spoiled with space.

we put a table in our dining room

(i had a dining room!)

and the mixer on the kitchen counter.

we got a bookshelf.

it's amazing what you can be grateful for.

we invited the same couple back,

made neutral appetizers,

and ate dinner and dessert -

which everyone seemed to enjoy -

at that treasured table

and that night, we gave them their

very own room to sleep in.

they even had a door.

herbed olive and walnut spread

adapted from pane caldo in chicago, via bon appetit magazine

by all means, buy the pitted olives, but do yourself two huge favors. first, make sure you buy beautiful purple olives and not the greenish-brown ones - the color makes this dish. also, even if you buy the pitted, take the time to check each before they go in the food processor. the process is never perfect and a pit could slip by (sorry, alan!). i always double the recipe, so that's what i'm giving you here, but it can obviously, be easily halved. also, as always, make it, taste and adjust. personally, i like flavors prominent, so i've increased the quantities of everything.

3 1/2 cups pitted kalamata olives (about 1 pound), rinsed and drained well

3/4 cup chopped walnuts, toasted and divided

6 tablespoons olive oil

2 tablespoons coarse-grained mustard

3-4 cloves garlic, peeled and halved

2 teaspoons dried thyme

2 teaspoons dried oregano

1 1/2 teaspoons dried sage

1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper

in bowl of food processor, finely chop olives and 6 tablespoons toasted walnuts. add olive oil, mustard, garlic, thyme oregano, sage and cayenne pepper; blend to combine. taste and adjust. transfer olive mixture to bowl; stir in remaining walnuts. cover and chill until serving.

i like to serve this with pita triangles, grape tomatoes and sliced zucchini and squash. the original recipe called for slices of a baguette.

sauteed onion, poppy seed and gruyere bread

our first stop in maine

was portland.

we had plotted out the trip

for months, finally settling

on a bed and breakfast -

i'm a hotel girl, usually -

just outside the port.

at first i was bummed.

i like the idea of car-free

vacations, of walking everywhere

and never worrying about parking.

i also like the idea of hotels.

to me, they provide anonymity

and

don't coerce you into sharing your life story

with strangers while eating

a (seemingly mandatory)

breakfast that required

you to set your alarm

because meals are served

promptly at 9 am.

(can you tell that we've stayed at

bed and breakfasts before?)

but, for many reasons,

we decided to stay at the

morrill mansion and i must say

that as soon as we were there,

i was happy. on the first day,

it poured. not just poured.

think - a hurricane in the islands

making its way north kind of rain.

it was freezing cold, too.

as we stepped from the plane,

into the cold watery onslaught,

i re-evaluated every piece of

clothing i brought,

kicking myself for

the sundresses and tank tops

and wondering where i

could buy a parka if

this kept up all week.

(i think i forgot where i was...hello.)

we rented a car and as we drove

the short drive, i freaked out

about anything i could possibly

think to freak out about:

this is our vacation and its raining hard

(not unlike our honeymoon),

larry is behind the wheel of a

car he is not familiar with,

does anyone in front of us

actually know how to drive in the rain?

and what was i thinking?

two pairs of flip-flops does not

a well-rounded shoe selection make.

when we finally got to the b&b,

my mind

was ready for a rest.

the innkeeper brought us upstairs,

handing us warm chocolate chip cookies

along the way, settled us into our

room with comfy chairs and a bed

with tons of pillows.

this could work, i thought.

then, i turned around, noticing

the stack of home and food magazines

and thought, scratch that,

this is nice.

they never give you the current

issue of food & wine in a hotel room.

it was still pouring.

we weren't really ready to

take portland by storm

when it was in the midst of one.

so instead, i grabbed the f&w,

and began to chill out,

starting with a story about

amazing cottages

that i had never heard of,

located about 30 minutes away

from where we were staying.

humph.

and then, i turned to

the recipe for

pull-apart cheesy bread.

i probably would have read

it and continued on if not

for two things:

1) by far the biggest influencer -

they mentioned monkey bread.

my family? we're big fans of

monkey bread.

2) while i'm not so crazy

about poppy seeds, something

about my childhood made me

a sucker for bialys, with which

the poppy seed mixture shared

an obvious resemblance.

so i read the recipe once each day

(even though we woke up sunday,

and every day that followed to

gorgeous weather)

until we left for ogunquit,

willing myself to remember

to look up the bread when we got

home. a teeny tiny part of me toyed

with ripping it out of the magazine,

but then i flashbacked to every single

time that i read an article in a doctor's

office and the one page i've needed to finish

the story is half torn. so i left it there

for the next people visiting the mcguire room.

it took a few weeks and someone

mentioning to me

that they found a place where

poppy seeds are dirt cheap

(to which i thought,

i've never had a reason

to buy poppy seeds) before

the light went off in my head.

so, i found the recipe,

gathered the ingredients -

purchased my first poppy seeds ever -

and thought, this shouldn't

be too bad.

as the onions sauteed,

i grated the cheese and measured

out the poppy seeds.

when the onion was

sweet

and tender,

i stirred in the poppy seeds,

transferred the lot to a plate

and waited patiently for

five minutes until i could

stir the cheese in.

so far, so good.

the dough was simple, too.

flour

butter

baking soda and powder

salt

buttermilk.

i couldn't go wrong.

but when it was time to

dump the dough out on the counter,

i knew that i couldn't.

yes, the recipe said, soft dough,

but this? this would slide across

the counter, probably too liquidy

to be too sticky.

i added 1/2 cup more flour

to the mixture and it seemed firmer,

so i took a chance.

unfortunately, what was in front of me

was still not very close to dough.

i'm not sure how much flour

i kneaded in,

but it was a lot - i'd dare to say

almost a cup more until

i could get it to work with me.

realizing that i would never

be able to roll the dough out,

let alone, cover it with

the poppy seeds and onions,

cut the whole thing into strips

and layer them,

i went to plan B:

praying, pleading and plotting.

i quartered the dough,

pressing the first piece into

the bottom of the loaf pan to

completely cover. i spread

one-third of the onion mixture

over that, and then cobbled together

pieces of dough from the second section

to make a cohesive layer.

each time i worried that i would not have

enough dough to make it, but somehow,

i was cut a break - it worked.

i baked the bread,

keeping a close eye, not sure how

the four layers would cook,

opposed to the ten i was supposed

to have (where did i go wrong?)

and was relieved when it was out

of the oven in pretty much

the same amount of time.

however, this version?

not a looker.

for me,

it baked up almost

biscuit-like,

very tastily dotted with

cheesy sweet onions.

the poppy seeds? i guess

i can understand why

they are there.

in its original form

and what i turned it into,

the bread is absolutely

an interesting alternative

to a loaf of crusty bread

or even a dinner-appropriate

quick-bread.

it is not monkey bread-like, in

my opinion. it is not in ball

form and you still have to cut

the bread - once the slices

are on the diner's plate they

can be pulled apart to

play with and enjoy.

however, this recipe gave

me a great idea and i hope

that you'll see a savory

monkey bread from me

sometime in the future.

but, the inspiration for

something new we can

play with

and

maybe one day, fall in love with?

looking back, its

probably worth a rainy

afternoon in maine.

sauteed onion, poppy seed and gruyere bread

adapted from food & wine magazine

i was very torn - should i give you my cobbled together version or the original from the magazine? i think, that as long as i already gave you the wet-dough disclaimer, i should give you a chance to make good on my semi-disaster by posting the recipe as it was intended. just remember that if you have trouble, more flour will help and you can always make a patchwork version. the flavor is worth it, i think.

1 1/2 sticks cold, unsalted butter, divided

1 large sweet onion, peeled and finely chopped

1 tablespoon poppy seeds

kosher salt and ground pepper

1 cup shredded gruyere cheese (3 ounces)

2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for kneading and dusting

2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

1 cup buttermilk

heat the oven to 425˚f. grease 9 x 4 1/2" metal loaf pan (mine is 5 1/2" wide).

cube butter; place one stick back in fridge until ready to make the dough.

in large skillet over medium heat, melt remaining 1/2 stick butter. remove 2 tablespoons of butter to small bowl; cover and set aside. add onions to skillet and cook 8 minutes, or until onions are softened, but not browned. stir in poppy seeds and season with salt and pepper. transfer onion mixture to plate; chill 5 minutes, or until cooled slightly. stir in gruyere; set aside.

meanwhile, in food processor, pulse flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. add reserved chilled butter; pulse until butter is the size of peas. add the buttermilk and pulse 5 or 6 times, or until a soft dough forms.

turn dough out onto a well-floured work surface and knead 2 or 3 times. pat or roll the dough into a 2 x 24 inch rectangle. spread the onion mixture on top. cut the dough crosswise into 10 pieces. stack 9 pieces onion side up. top stack with remaining slice, onion side down. carefully place the stack in the prepared loaf pan. (as i mentioned above, i had to pat the dough into place inside the loaf pan, which worked, but it's clearly not the best method - the first layer is stress-free. the next ones though, you have to worry that you're going to get the onion mixture caught in the dough as you're trying to spread it.) either way, brush top dough layer with remaining butter.

bake on the center rack, 30 minutes, or until the loaf is golden brown and has risen. let the dough cool for at least 15 minutes, before unmolding and serving.

you can also make it ahead of time - it was just as good the second day. i wrapped it up in foil and reheated in a 350˚f oven.