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.

the best thing i've made in 2010: onion panade

2010 has not been so hot,

food-wise.

we brought in the new year

with a dinner, that i've said,

was ok, i guess.

and then the next night,

after i spent hours saying,

i was going to make fresh pasta,

but instead watched a lot

of law and order: svu,

i boiled up a pot of dried spaghetti

and tossed it with sage and grated parm.

that was followed by huevos rancheros

that may have been ok,

if i didn't somehow overcook the eggs,

chickpea patties that were like

bland hockey pucks,

potatoes that i

smashed with the bottom

of a glass (on purpose)

and then kind of

burnt to a crisp (not on purpose),

a pasta, cauliflower and horseradish

dish that needed lots of hot sauce

to enjoy and a salad dressing that was

way too garlicky for the

perfectly good salad i carefully assembled.

when dinner goes wrong,

it's a bummer. but when dishes

are unsuccessful several days in

a row, you start to doubt yourself,

and seriously consider turning to

meals made outside the home.

but then, you find a recipe.

one recipe, that miraculously

goes according to plan,

doesn't surprise you along the way

and in the end, is exactly what

you were hoping for

and maybe, even more.

for our wedding anniversary,

larry put the

give-paper-for-one-year rule,

into brooke terms

and gave me a cookbook.

the art of simple food,

by alice waters, to be precise.

the thing is, i'm not that simple.

i can taste the difference

between an unbelievable tomato

and a good tomato.

and i can appreciate the brilliance

of someone taking that

amazing tomato and drizzling

it only with a few drops of olive oil

and a couple sprinklings of

really good salt.

but most likely - and maybe, sadly -

in my hands, it wouldn't stay that way.

i like what comes of mixing together

spices and herbs and vinegars.

and i like what happens when something

is sauteed or roasted or combined

with something a little wacky.

so, i glanced through the book

and saw, what i consider,

good basics. there was a list

of pantry essentials,

recipes for fruit salad and

different methods for preparing

rice, a garlic and olive oil sauce

and cheese omelets.

and yes, i know this is alice waters.

and i know and love a lot of what

she has done, what she is still on

a mission to do. i just like a little

more oomph.

but, for some reason,

page 262 stopped me. i had never

heard of a panade before - which,

now after conducting a ton of research,

seems ridiculous. but here, it was,

a panade, featuring very simply:

onions

thyme

stale bread

gruyere

parm

chicken broth.

simple. and sounding pretty much

like the ingredients for french onion soup.

i loved the idea of a panade:

you prepare all the ingredients

(saute the onions,

slice and toast the bread,

grate in the cheese),

and then you layer them all

together in a casserole dish

and bake for 1 1/2 hours.

when it's pulled from the oven,

it should be intensly flavored soup.

and to my delight - on another absolutely

frigid winter night - it was. after baking

for 45 minutes, i pulled the foil off and

cooked until the top was brown and bubbly.

when i first opened the oven,

i couldn't believe how much it all smelled

like bread pudding, or how beautifully

the top had puffed up. but, of course, unlike

bread pudding, this is an eggless recipe

and the soup deflated fast.

when i scooped into it,

the bread pudding wafts were a distant memory,

instead replaced clearly by

the scents of a very rich onion soup.

even the chicken broth - maybe not so optimal

for those of you who swear by beef broth to make

the heartiest, boldest variation - transformed

thanks to those golden onions

and thin layers of cheese,

that have been jumbled together, first in the oven,

and then in your bowl.

once scooped into individual dishes,

it's not gorgeous, but who needs gorgeous

when you've got delicious?

and yes, delicious is not a very

imaginitive word. but it's simple and fitting,

and maybe, sometimes, that's not so bad.

onion panade

adapted from the art of simple food

this is the perfect sunday night soup - it does not require a lot of attention, especially once the onions are out of the pan, but it does take time that you may not have on a weeknight.

i used a 2-quart dish instead of the 1 1/2 quart casserole indicated, so i upped the ingredient amounts just a bit - i've listed my changes below. i also realized later that i was meant to heat the chicken broth before adding it to dish - i didn't and i don't think the soup suffered (but, apparently, i am not doing so well in the basic reading department lately). also, when making this, i used my method of caramelizing onions, instead of the one in the book. it took about an hour (instead of the 45 minutes waters called for).

3 tablespoons olive oil

2 large sweet onions, peeled and thinly sliced

2 or 3 thyme sprigs (or 1/2 - 1 teaspoon dried thyme)

kosher salt

1/2 day-old italian or country-style loaf

1/2 cup grated parm

3/4 cup grated gruyere (i used aged)

3-5 cups chicken or beef broth (i used chicken)

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

in large skillet, heat olive oil over medium-high heat. when hot, add onions and thyme; cook 5 minutes, stirring often. reduce heat to medium low and cook 30-35 minutes, or until very soft. increase heat to medium and cook 15-20 minutes, or until onions are a medium golden brown, stirring often.

meanwhile, heat oven to 350˚f. thinly slice bread; place slices on a baking sheet and bake 5 minutes, turning once, or until dry, but not brown.

in bowl, mix together grated parm and grated gruyere.

in 2-quart baking dish, place single layer of bread (the recipe did not indicate, but i did cut bread to make sure the bottom was completely covered). top bread with half the onions, spreading evenly; sprinkle with half the cheese mixture. top with second layer of bread, remaining onions and another third of cheese. top with remaining bread and sprinkle with remaining cheese.

place baking dish on baking pan. carefully pour broth down the side into the dish, taking care not to disrupt the layers, until the top layer of bread begins to float. dot with butter.

cover; carefully transfer baking pan to oven. bake 45 minutes. uncover dish and bake 20-30 minutes more, or until the top layer is golden brown and crisp. (after 30 minutes, i put the broiler on for a couple more, just until the top had a few golden spots.)

something to count on

i've said before that there are

few recipes that i repeat.

while some plates that come

out of our kitchen are delicious

and worth an encore performance,

there are just too many things

out there for a dish to be

made multiple times.

and with that in mind,

the meals that i do make

with some regularity,

would probably be surprising.

they're most likely not the most

gorgeous

or the most amazing,

but they offer some things

even better:

comfort, security

and a sure bet.

and that's how these

stuffed mushrooms came to be

and why they keep coming back.

one day, years ago,

when i was bored with every

possible dinner idea,

i challenged myself to think

about what foods i not only

enjoy, but actually crave.

and, if i'm being fair, i think

i was also trying to remember

what was in the fridge.

i had a bag of spinach

in the cooler

and sweet potatoes

on the counter.

a strong believer that spinach

should usually be paired with

garlic, the cloves were a given.

with more thought, i decided

that golden sauteed onions

would add sweetness to

the greens.

by the time i had landed on

dicing and roasting the sweet potatoes,

i thought i had a

solid

hearty

easily pairable

side dish.

it was a start. so i headed to

the store to find its main meal match,

hoping for inspiration.

i didn't make it through produce

before spotting large portobello mushrooms,

and realizing that earlier in the day

i had unknowingly created a filling.

and now? i had stumbled upon its vessel.

the first time i made them,

i was cognizant of the fact

that i clearly was not making

these the simplest way possible.

dicing the sweet potatoes

before roasting them,

steaming the spinach,

squeezing it dry,

adding in chopped garlic,

sauteeing the onions,

stirring everything together

with some grated parm

and then stuffing everything

into the large scraped mushroom.

but it was good.

really good. hot and full of flavor

and very fulfilling for being,

well, a vegetable full of vegetables.

and so, through the years, i've

stuck to the method,

sometimes sprinkling some

feta over top before baking

and serving the caps with

with brown rice

or a big salad.

and i know this sounds sort of

dainty or maybe not like something

that a person who loves food would

want to eat, but i will stand by

these mushrooms.

and i think larry will, too.

i haven't made them since blair

came over in the fall,

when i had the wacky idea

to make a couple different kinds

of stuffed vegetables. not in the kitschy

type of way, but more in the hey,

these would probably all taste really

good together - like a veggie tasting plate -

sort of way. blair, larry and i ate

them together. blair, telling larry,

he was lucky - a compliment that meant

so much, i didn't know where to put it.

recently, i saw beautiful, perfectly

round, deep mushrooms in the store -

screaming to be stuffed.

i placed the sweet potatoes into

the oven and started cooking the onions.

larry walked in, and seeing the spinach

and mushrooms on the counter, actually said,

oh! that's exciting, we haven't had these in a while.

my first thought was that it was slightly sad,

a testament to what he is served around here,

that a veggie-stuffed mushroom made him happy.

my second thought was, that, he's right.

they are good.

i think i was distracted,

thinking about it the bizarreness of it all,

but i looked

at the browned onions and garlic

and thought, why do i spend the

extra time dirtying an extra pot to

steam the spinach?

so i tossed it into the onions,

topped it with a lid

and let the greens steam.

a few minutes later,

they were perfectly wilted

and it was so much easier to stir into

the onions. i sprinkled in grated parm,

very proud of myself for eliminating

a step (and quite befuddled as to why

i had never experienced this moment

of brilliance before), and then i saw it:

all the water seeping into

the bottom of the pot.

that's why i don't do this.

the spinach must be drained,

squeezed of all excess liquid or

it will certainly make the whole thing

a wet, soggy mess.

but now the cheese was in

and the onions and - oh,

get over it, i yelled at myself.

i threw a colander in the sink,

poured in the spinach mixture

and pressed.

i was really bummed,

knowing that i was losing

the cheese (the last of what we

had in the house), that no doubt,

i would lose a few onions

and absolutely some garlic.

but once i put the now significantly

dryer spinach mixture back in the

pot and added the sweet potatoes,

i noticed that the filling was not

so much worse for the wear and

in fact, everything was incorporating

much better than usual.

i'm torn about whether this is the right

method, but it worked.

we were out of feta this time,

so we went without cheese on top,

but to be honest,

it wasn't missed.

the onions and sweet potato

still added deep caramelized touches,

the spinach a subtle bitterness

and the parm,

a great creaminess working

to unite all the ingredients.

for us, this mushroom is dinner.

easy,

no worries,

no recipe,

always reliable,

dinner.

but for you,

if you cannot imagine

this acting as a solid meal,

i think it would make an

excellent side dish.

or - and i've never tried this,

but i've often thought about

it - stuffed into cremini mushrooms,

a yummy vegetarian option

for a cocktail party.

or i suppose,

the spinach and sweet potato

mixture could

morph back into

its intended non-filling form:

a hearty side dish.

spinach and sweet potato stuffed portobellas

the more i think about it, the more i realize that although the method doesn't make a whole lot of sense, i think that next time i would make them the same way that i did during the "mistake." i just liked the way that all of the ingredients mixed together. if it's too impractical for you, simply saute the onions and the garlic. steam the spinach separately and when cool enough to handle, squeeze dry, then stir into the onions. also, make sure that you season well with salt and pepper. when you're dealing with simple ingredients like this, the seasoning makes a huge difference. i've made this both ways many times - with peeled sweet potatoes and without - and i've decided i like it both ways, so i'll leave it up to your personal preference.

and one last t thing, i've never used mushrooms that were so round and deep before. usually, i just buy two, large, equally sized shrooms, and often, they lay quite flat. so don't worry if that's all you find.

1 large sweet potato

2 teaspoons olive oil

1 medium sweet onion, peeled and finely chopped

2 cloves garlic, peeled and finely chopped

1 bag (6 ounces) spinach

2 tablespoons grated parm

2 large portobella mushrooms, caps wiped clean with a damp paper towel and stems carefully removed

kosher salt

cracked black pepper

heat oven to 425˚f. peel potato if desired. dice potatoes into evenly-sized pieces. spread out on a foil lined baking sheet, coated with cooking spray. coat potatoes with cooking spray or mist with olive oil. season with salt and pepper. roast 20-25 minutes, or until golden and tender, flipping once. reduce the oven temperature to 350˚f.

meanwhile, in skillet or medium saucepot, heat olive oil over medium-high heat. add onions and cook 10 minutes, or until golden brown, stirring often and lowering the flame if they start to burn or brown too quickly. stir in chopped garlic and cook 1 minute. add spinach; cover and steam 2 minutes. remove lid; stir together. stir in cheese. pour spinach mixture into a strainer and let drain, pressing a bit to release excess liquid. return to pot; add roasted sweet potatoes and stir to combine.

meanwhile (yes, there are a bunch of meanwhiles in this recipe), use spoon to gently remove gills from the mushrooms. it will be a bit messy, but worth it. the gills, when left in, not only produce excess moisture, which can make everything runny (thereby negating the fact that you just dirtied your strainer to drain the spinach), but also add bitterness. season the mushrooms with kosher salt and pepper. place mushrooms on foil-lined baking sheet (if the one that you used for the sweet potatoes is in decent shape, there's no reason not to re-use it).

divide filling evenly among mushroom caps. sprinkle with feta or extra parm, if desired. bake mushrooms 25 minutes, or until the filling is hot and the mushrooms are tender.