asparagus benedict on quinoa nettle cakes + lovage mint aioli

Cooking with nettles, not unlike cooking with offal, always reminds me of a painting of a funeral. Not any painting of a funeral rather just this one painting of a funeral, Gustave Courbet's Un enterrement à Ornans (A burial at Ornans). It's an imperious painting, oil on canvas and ten by twenty-two feet. It's a massive tableau in browns & grays of a provincial funeral (his uncle's as a matter of fact), and it's beautifully ugly. But to a certain set back in 1850 it was, instead, offensive, presumptuous. Even rude. Because you see, ten by twenty-two oil on canvas was a space reserved for velvet narratives, gilded horses. Kings. History. Blues & reds. Nobility. Not actual peasants at an actual funeral. Low subjects on a grand scale, "realism". It was a fundamental shift in what was perceived as a worthwhile subject and a precursor to modernist painting. While the moderns would depart from the realists stylistically, I think the concept, the fascination with low subjects, with real life, as the content of high art is still with us, this legacy of realism. It was revolutionary at the time. There is no better formulation of it, in my estimation, than Baudelaire's in one of my favorite essays, De l'Héroïsme de la Vie Moderne (On the Heroism of the Modern Life):

"The pageant of fashionable life and the thousands of floating existences - criminals and 

kept women - which drift about in the underworld of a great city...we have only to open our eyes to recognize our heroism."

Nettles and stomach lining are, in my estimation, the criminals and kept women of the culinary world, the browns and grays of Courbet, and I think this, the zeitgeist of the 1840's, is still alive and well when we see these ingredients on fine dining menus, stinging nettles at the French Laundry and organ meat at 11 Madison Park. But this doesn't surprise us at all, some of us even yawn and call it fashion. The elevation of low subjects on a grand scale is common place now, and that's always the pyrrhic victory of any cultural revolution, it always seems to jump the shark. But it wasn't always so, and still, it reminds me of that painting of a funeral, of Baudelaire's criminals and kept women, of that pageant that is the ugly, the mundane, the quotidian, the weeds, the guts. And of how grateful I am that I live in a time when there's an audience for the beauty in all of it. Life is far more interesting with weeds & guts, and we're a lot better off learning to love them because they certainly aren't going anywhere.

I'll offer, at best, a dispassionate apology for the art history lesson, both if it bored you or if you are fresher than me & found it awfully impoverished, but in another life modernism was a love of mine, and I ate, slept, and breathed Baudelaire along with my gin. It's still dear to me, and I think about it often, even if I do spend more time thinking about pie crusts than the philosophical and socio-cultural implications of pigments. I don't, however, apologize if you find my drawing parallels between nettle cakes and art history pretentious. Because that's just a very boring way of looking at it!

So I give you my tribute to Courbet's Un enterrement à Ornans & Baudelaire's On the Heroism of the Modern Life. It's an homage to the low as the high, a take on eggs Benedict, that posh hangover cure. It features purple asparagus thicker than my thumbs, asparagus so prized I actually had a nightmare about not getting to the market in time to get my paws on them last week. And it, my most precious produce, alongside the hairy, stinging dead nettles. The ancient quinoa. The glorious egg. Miraculous mayonnaise. Dark and spicy greens. Wonderfully salty southern cured ham. And a few of my favorite mustard colored pak choi flowers because I will always and forever eat flowers at any opportunity. It makes me feel mythological or something. But all of that aside, this is really just me using what is there, what I have. Real food & real light. And that's the point.

Asparagus Benedict on Quinoa Nettle Cakes with Country Ham, Lovage Mint Aioli, and a Poached Egg

makes 4 servings

A rich yet healthful take on a brunch classic, this meal would make an excellent dish for Mother's day, and it can easily be made vegetarian by omitting the country ham or gluten free by omitting the bread crumbs. 

Ingredients

For Quinoa Nettle Cakes

adapted from love & olive oil

1 cup quinoa

1 1/2 cups water

1 bunch nettles

1/3 cup green olives, chopped

1/2 medium shallot, minced

1/2 cup bread crumbs

juice of 1 lemon + zest

1/2 tsp kosher salt

1/2 tsp crushed red pepper (or more like 1 tsp if you're me)

1 Tbsp honey

2 eggs

For Lovage Mint Aioli

2 Tbsp finely minced lovage (can substitute fennel fronds)

1-2 Tbsp finely minced mint (less if you prefer a less strong flavor)

1 egg yolk

1 large clove garlic minced into a paste with a 3 finger pinch of kosher salt

juice of half a lemon (or more to taste)

a little room temperature water for adjusting consistency as needed

1/2 cup canola oil

1/4 cup good olive oil

*you can invert the oil amounts if you prefer a stronger olive oil flavor, which I sometimes do

For Assembling

1 bunch thick asparagus

4 slices country ham, fried crispy (proscuitto, serrano ham, or pancetta can be substituted)

a mix of spicy baby greens

4 eggs, poached

1-2 Tbsp distilled white vinegar for poaching

Cooking Direction

1) Make quinoa cakes:

Rinse the quinoa. 

Bring the quinoa and water to a boil with a tsp of salt, reduce to a simmer, cover and cook for about 20-25 minutes until soft and fluffy. Cool to room temperature. 

Meanwhile steam the nettles until thoroughly wilted. Chop fine & squeeze dry with paper towels. 

In a medium bowl mix the nettles and quinoa thoroughly. Add the olives, shallot, bread crumbs, lemon juice & zest, salt, pepper, and honey. Taste and adjust seasoning as needed. When it tastes to your liking add the two eggs. Mixture should hold together in patties. I usually have about two extra patties, which I like for breakfast the next day! If it doesn't hold together, you can add an extra egg. 

Form about 1/3 cup into patties about 1" thick and place on a wax paper lined baking tray. Refrigerate covered for about 30 minutes to allow them to firm up. While they're firming prepare the asparagus, ham, and aioli. *These would also make excellent vegetarian burgers.

2) Make lovage mint aioli:

Place a medium bowl on a damp towel so it doesn't move around on you. Whisk yolk with the garlic and salt past until pale. Slowly, drop by drop begin to whisk in the oil. When a stable emulsion forms, you can add the oil in a thin stream while whisking constantly. About halfway through adding the oil or if it gets too thick add the lemon juice. Continue adding oil, adjusting the consistency as you go with a little bit of water to prevent it from getting too thick. When done, stir in the herbs and adjust the seasoning with salt and lemon juice. I sometimes add a tiny pinch of sugar to round out the flavor, though not always, and I in no way make it sweet. Just the smallest bit. 

3) Steam asparagus:

Steam until just tender. I like mine a little al dente. I do nothing but sprinkle with a little bit of salt. If your asparagus is fresh & in season it will need nothing more.

4) Cook quinoa cakes:

Heat canola oil of medium high heat in a large frying pan. When hot add the cakes without crowding. Fry in batches if needed. Cook about 5-6 minutes per side on medium to medium low depending on your stove until they are cooked through and crispy brown on the outside. While they're frying, poach your eggs.

5) Poach eggs & fry ham:

Bring a medium pot of water to a simmer. Add 1 tsp of vinegar if your eggs aren't insanely fresh. Break your eggs into individual small dishes. I use a tea cup. Create a whirl pool in the center of the simmering pot of water by stirring and tip an egg into it. Poach for 3 minutes, until white is set but yolk is still runny. Repeat with remaining eggs. 

Meanwhile fry ham crispy. 

6) Assemble:

Place warm quinoa cake on a bed of greens, top with ham, asparagus, egg, and a generous dollop of aioli. Serve warm. 

coconut tres leches cake + 1 yr of {local milk} + a giveaway

Today marks the day of one whole year of {local milk}. It may seem like an over-statement (it's not), but this space has changed my life. It's given my work direction. It's given me purpose in a new life where I didn't quite know what to do with myself, where to go with my new found billionth chance after getting clean.  And of course, what people always say because it's so wonderfully true, I have met (both virtually and in reality) some of the best & brightest people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing through this. So thank you all. There's so much to celebrate, so I have cake, presents, and a sort of story.

So, yes, I made cakes. Many cakes. I made cakes until I created the perfect signature recipe for this space. It isn't really a tres leches cake, it's a cake of many leches. All of the milks! Because what better cake for {local milk}? Obviously. The cake recipe is the gift I can give to you all, a labor of love that involved a lot recipe testing. A lot of cake eaten in the name of science. This is a cake you can trust.

And I got (one of) you a present. Those of you who follow me on Instagram seemed to love those wooden measuring spoons & wooden cake stand from Sophie's (a fantastic little shop on North Market St. here in Chattanooga...if you don't win, they deliver!) so much that I decided to get an extra set to giveaway. To enter simply leave a comment below, and I'll randomly choose a winner in a week. It's my way of saying thank you, thank you, a million times thank you. You've all made my life better.   Congrats to Kristen Rosenau!

I'm absolutely overwhelmed by the response. I'd love to go through and reply to each and every one personally, but unfortunately time does not permit at the moment. So just let me say that I don't think it makes much sense how much your comments mean, but they are one of the things that keep me growing as a writer, photographer, and cook. It's like a rad, weird tsunami of encouragement. And from the internet, no less! It's not exactly known for being a hospitable place, and I've found it (thank god) quite. No, I'm not complaining. At all. Thanks again...I'm awfully excited for this coming year. The least I can do is make more goodies for you all. And I have another giveaway coming up soon... so if you didn't get this one there's more to come! I kinda love you strangers.

Third and lastly, I have a story. An announcement of sorts that I've absolutely been dying to share with you all. It involves nudity & is rather long. That might sound weird, but it isn't. But stop now & skip to the recipe or forever hold your peace.

------------------

We were naked, laying the wrong way across the end of the bed in a post-coital tangle. I was huffing him like paint and smiling stupidly.

"I love you," I said.
"This has never happened before," he said.
"What hasn't?"
"Being told I'm loved, naked."

I laughed. But it's true. It's never happened to me before either. But I don't mean the physical nudity. He sees me. I yip and flop around when it's just us. I squeal and do bad impressions. I'm naked as a person all the time with him, no masks or fear or pretense, and it's such an expansive relief. I found a potato chip in my shoe the other day & he found it endearing, his eyes crinkling in the corners when he smiled at me. To be seen & not rejected is something I can hardly believe. And this man, as someone who knew me before, has seen me. He's seen me at my worst, and was a dear friend to me in my darkest most frightening hours. We looked at death together, I've no doubt. But now, now everything is new and in spite of all he knows, all of it, he loves me. Like, a lot. It's crazy. I've no doubt he'll be by my side until I'm crinkled and eccentric (of which I'm a tiny bit and a rather large bit already...). Or until my untimely death. But you know, either way, he's my guy.

He started sighing and moving his head in a way that indicated he was about to say something reluctantly.
"What?" I asked. Nothing. "What?"....."What?"....
"I got you a thing", he said.
"A thing?" My hair was sticking up in spikes, and I pressed my face, my whole face, hard into his neck. My affection is clumsy. I like to think therein lies it's charm. The room was dark, the sun had just set.
"What sort of thing?"
"I got you a thing..." He sat up, leaned over to the chair beside the bed where his leather jacket was thrown & fumbled through his pockets for what seemed like a long time for looking through pockets. They aren't very large, pockets, you know. He muttered whilst fumbling. Having found what he was looking for he held it in his hands a long while, me still laying beside him, tracing my finger up and down the notches of his spine, that vital tether between brain and body. I imagined bright blue electrical currents beneath his flesh in the dark, animating him.

"Your spine," I said, "It's...important."
"Yes," he laughed.
"Motherboard", I whispered.
"Well, I actually got you three things because I wasn't sure which one you'd like."
"Three things! I want all three things," I joked, still unaware.
"What is it?" I asked.
"I had my mother get them out..."
"What is it?"

Silence. I finally pulled myself up. He had a black velvet pouch in his hands. He shook three rings out of it into his palm. I could barely make them out in the dark.

"It's to replace a thing." He meant my old wedding rings, now residing in a ceramic dish at my mother's. I touched them.
"I didn't know which you'd like best...so I had her get all three family rings." He squinted at them. "This was my great grandmother's...this was my grandmother's...this was...I can't remember. My mother would know."

My mind reeled. Not but a half hour ago he was in medias res, making a glass of chocolate milk, the jar on the counter & cocoa powder in the cup when I came bounding (literally bounding...I bound) into the kitchen fresh out of the bath in an ill-fitting baggy, floral dress. Then, suddenly it seemed, we were sitting in the dark naked with three rings. The milk was still out on the kitchen counter, abandoned. He proffered the rings, all three, and asked that thing people are wont to ask when proffering rings.

"Will you marry me?"
"Are you...asking?" This was, you have to fully understand, most unexpected. We aren't the marrying sort, both having a personal distaste for the idea of a legal contract & party planning to consumate what seems so awfully sacred to us.
"Yes", he laughed, "I'm asking."
I, as you might imagine, kissed him and said, through thoroughly sentimental tears of joy, "Yes! Of course I'll marry you."

It wasn't very original, admittedly. At least not that part. But I'll venture to say the naked three ring proposal was. He told me he'd been waiting for the right time, and that, in his estimation, was it. I shook my head in pleased disbelief.

This is no small thing. I am, suffice to say, terrified of marriage. I was married once before. It didn't go well as marriages that were "once before" generally don't. Marriage has, since then, seemed a gauche curse to me. Harsh words, I know. But it was an exceptionally awful marriage, my previous one. But. I reserve the right to change my mind. Yes, I totally reserve that right. And only this man ever could have, of that I'm certain. Because he sees me, the raw me, and doesn't regard me as malformed. And he never once has. Also, he does the dishes. And even laundry. And makes me coffee every single morning and tea any afternoon I ask.

We crawled under the covers and turned on the bedside lamp. I touched each one, turning it over in my hand, slipping each one on my finger. I eventually chose his great-grandmother's, his mother's mother's mother. The simplest and the oldest.

And that's the story of how I became the marrying sort once again and just got engaged, the second time, naked with three rings. It beats the first time, hands down, which was at a bar in front of the jukebox to, incidentally, Molly Hatchet's "Flirting With Disaster". No joke. Ugh.

So, in conclusion: naked cake!

Coconut Tres Leches Cake

makes enough for one 8" 2 layer cake, or two 4" 4 layer cakes or about 20 cupcakes

This isn't really a tres leches cake. My calling it that is just an appeal to SEO. I don't think a lot of people go looking for a "siete leches cake". But, if you're here, that's what you've found. It contains no less than 7 permutations of milk: powdered milk, evaporated milk, whole milk, condensed milk, coconut milk, buttermilk, and heavy cream. All of the milks. So in celebration of all these things, I give you the dadgum milkiest cake I could dream up. I also want to note my early drafts of this cake used the foaming method, which is a handsome method for making a cake, but Stella of Brave Tart converted me to the creaming method. She's in the process of writing a book. It's going to be a canonical baking book, I am certain of it. So thanks to her for making me a better baker. Lastly, if you don't have a scale I've provided volumetric measurements for the cake in addition to weight. Scales are cheap. Fewer dishes. Buy a scale. Amen.

Ingredients

For Cake

nonstick cooking spray (optional, can use butter)

100 g coconut oil (1/3 + 1/4 cup) (I use unrefined in this cake for flavor, but refined works too)
50 g unsalted butter, room temp ( 4 Tbsp)
5 g pure vanilla extract (1 tsp)
10 g coconut extract (2 tsp)
5 g kosher salt (1 tsp)
240 g sugar (1 cup)

110 g egg whites, room temp (about 3 large eggs)

250 g cake flour (2 cups)
5 g baking powder (1 tsp)
5 g baking soda (1 tsp)
30 g dry milk (1/4 cup)

120 g coconut milk, room temp (unsweetened, full fat, the sort in a can) (1/2 cup)
120 g buttermilk, room temp (1/2 cup)

For Milk Soak

1 can condensed milk
1/2 cup coconut milk (unsweetened, full fat, canned)
1/4 cup evaporated milk
1/2 cup whole milk
1/2 cup buttermilk

For Coconut Chantilly Frosting

4 cups whipped cream, cold
1/2 cup cream of coconut
2/3 cup powdered sugar
4 tsp coconut extract
2 tsp pure vanilla extract

toasted coconut for topping (coconut flakes at 350° for about 5 minutes), optional

Cooking Direction

1. Heat oven to 350° F.

2. Line your cake pans with parchment circles and spray with not stick cooking spray. I sometimes skip the parchment circles because I'm awful, but I'd recommend it to be safe.

3. Sift together the baking powder, baking soda, flour, and powdered milk. Stir in the salt. Set aside.

4. Cream first six ingredients in a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment on medium speed until very pale and fluffy, about 5 minutes. Scrap down bowl about halfway through, making sure to get the bottom too.

5. Turn mixer to low and add egg whites in two additions. Scrape down bowl.

6. Pour coconut milk and buttermilk into one measuring cup. With the mixer still on low add in flour mixture and the buttermilk-coconut mixture, alternating between the two in about three additions. As soon as last addition is added turn off mixer and fold with a spatula to make smooth.   Don't overmix or you'll make your cake tough. Just no clumps.

7. Pour into your chosen cake tin, about halfway up. Don't do what I did in one test and fill your mini cake tins 3/4 the way and have them a) not bake properly and b) floff over.

8. Depending on the cake size bake on the middle rack between 15-25 minutes. Start testing with a cake tester on the low end. You don't want to overbake. Overbaking makes cake meh. & who wants meh cake? A cake tester should come out clean, as in no goo but a few crumbs are ok.

9. Meanwhile make the soak. Mix all of the ingredients very well in a bowl and set aside. Mix again before pouring.

10. Cool cakes in the pan about five minutes and then turn them out onto wire racks to cool. If splitting the layers, I like to chill my cakes after they've fully cooled on the racks to make cutting easier. I'm not really an expert on icing cakes, to be honest. I kind of wing it. If stacking layers on chantilly, chill a topped layer before topping with another layer or it can will squish out. I would know. Less so with a mini cake, but still, to be safe.

11. Once mostly cool (a little warm is okay) or once out of the fridge and split, place the cake in a baking dish and poke holes all over it with a cake tester.

12. Spoon about 1 cup of the leches mixture over the each layer (for 8" layers). Use half a cup for smaller layers. It may seem like a lot, but it will take it. I kind of spoon it in the middle and spread it around to keep it from running off, for maximum soak upage. Let layers sit in the fridge, covered for an hour.

13. Make Frosting. Whip the heavy cream (halve this if you're making a two layer cake) with the cream of coconut, coconut extract, and vanilla until it begins to thicken. Add in confectioner's sugar and whip to stiff peaks, being careful not to over whip.

14. Stack and ice cakes as desired. Reiterating tips for using chantilly: top a layer, set it in the fridge for about half an hour, then top with another layer. Also, I don't spread it all the way to the edges as I find it will spread when topped. I usually leave about an inch around the edge. Top with toasted coconut if using. Best served with a glass of local milk!

Rapini & Rosemary Potato Pizza on Buttermilk Crust

 

Spring, sprang, sprung. It did it. Finally. I think. There are a lot of fat bees, and I don't feel the urge to curse under my breath during my morning tip toe to the shower. As a matter of fact, I don't even have to tip toe. I can walk quite flat footed & hum pop songs and towel off without shivering. So, yes, it must be spring. There are blossoms everywhere, cherry trees and daffodils, cobalt spindly things and white lacy blooms and yellow twining vines. You can tell I know a lot about flowers. I steal them. Really. I drive around my neighborhood so slowly it's suspicious and leap out, shears in hand, and snip flowers. I don't steel the good ones or the precious ones. Mostly the raucous, prolific ones or maybe even weeds. But hey, free flowers.

These are my months. Months of nettles and asparagus, spring chicken and lamb. Everything bursting forth and brimming, young and sweet. Spring is as delicious as childhood and just as ephemeral besides. I always feel a little frantic actually, a little desperate to catch every last drop of springiness and luxuriate in it, soak every bit up before summer comes hulking in with it's pubescent produce, and it's strapping, husky heat. Don't get me wrong, summer's superb and you'll almost never catch me complaining about the heat. I have, apparently, lizard blood. But spring is poetry. Just ask every poet ever. They know a thing.

In my attempts to bathe in the essence of spring (and of course the essence of anything is food, right?) I always end up with a little bit more produce from the farmer's market than I know what to do with. And then come the spring pizzas, marching out of my blazing hot oven, slipped off a cornmeal dusted stone with a peel, on a weekly, even bi-weekly basis. And let me tell you why. For one: bread. Everyone loves bread but no one loves bread more than me. Except maybe Patrick. That boy loves bread. Two: cheese. That is all. Three: I am cheap, cheap as dirt. And so is pizza dough from scratch, so we get along.

So you've got bread & cheese, the backbone of any self respecting meal. Then you've nothing more to do than add whatever is in your fridge. And I mean whatever. If potatoes and rapini can be as delicious on a pizza as they are, I assure you, pretty much everything is. The same principles as a sandwich apply I guess. But yes, get outside the pepperoni and margherita box (though make no mistake, those are both excellent pizzas). Step right out. Look in your fridge. What's that bag of stuff taunting you, threatening to go bad on you at any given moment & riddle you with guilt? Yeah, put that guy on a pizza. And laugh. Oh how you will laugh. And eat. And laugh. And you will pizza & do the twist, and life will be spring and so grand.

Oh, and put and egg on it y'all.

Rapini & Potato Pizza on Buttermilk Pizza Crust

adapted from Dean & Deluca and Food52

yields 4 6" pizzas

I started using this crust as my "quick" crust. I use quotes because eh, it's not rapido or anything. The other dough that's my stand-by is Jim Lahey's No Knead dough, but say I didn't think to put some dough out the night before, this is the one I turn to because it can be made in a reasonable amount of time. This one is very bready, which is nice for a change. This would work quite well with kale & broccoli instead of rapini (aka broccoli rabe) so don't go all googly eyed looking for it if you can't find it. A few florets, a few leaves. Voila. I really can't sing the praises of potato pizza high enough. I slice them so thin that some of them almost turn into chips during roasting, so we call this "potato chip" pizza. Use that line on kids to sort of decieve them into thinking it's unhealthy, if that's your style. It'd be mine if I had kids. I swear I once even confused a potato for a pepperoni, no joke. I bake mine on a stone. You don't have to, but they're quite cheap and so worth it. Baking a pizza in an electric oven is kind of lame, and a pizza stone ameliorates that to a degree. Crispy crust, amen. **Also, I like to blast my pizzas with heat. If this is too burny for you just bake them at 475° on the lowest rack for about 15 minutes.

Ingredients

For Crust:
1/2 cup buttermilk (room temp)
3/4 cup water, almost hot to the touch (about 125° F)
2 tablespoons dry yeast
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon honey
3 cups all purpose flour (sifted, if you're into that)
3/4 teaspoon salt
olive oil for oiling the bowl
cornmeal or flour for dusting

For Toppings:
1 bunch rapini (broccoli rabe)

1 cup mixed baby potatoes (purple, red, yukon gold) or 3 medium sized, sliced paper thin
3 tablespoons fresh rosemary, minced

2 minced garlic cloves

olive oil

kosher salt

1/2 tsp crushed red pepper flackes

2 cups grated gruyere

1 cup grated parmesan

4 eggs (optional)

Cooking Directions

Make Crust:

Proof the yeast: In a small bowl mix together the buttermilk, olive oil, honey, and water. Sprinkle in the yeast. Stir once, and let sit in a warm place until it's nice and foamy, about 10 to 20 minutes. If you don't have foam you do have a problem. Toss it and start over. Either it was too hot, too cold, or the yeast was old. The mix should be about 100-110° when the yeast goes in.

Mix the flour and salt well. Stir in the foamy yeast mix with a wooden spoon quickly, dispersing clumps as much as possible at this point. You will have a wet dough.

Knead the dough. Dust a work surface with flour, I do so pretty liberally. Add about 1/4 cup flour to the dough in the bowl so that you can scrape it onto your work surface. Add more flour as needed, but don't get trigger happy. The dough will stick at first but just add little bits of flour and keep kneading. Start with about 1/4 cups but add less and less flour as you continue to knead. Add it slowly, don't be over zealous. You want to end up with a dough that is "just past sticky" and is "threatening to stick to the work surface". Knead for about ten minutes until you have a smooth, silky dough (not a dry, tough dough).

1st rise. Lightly oil the bottom of a large bowl with the olive oil. Form dough into a ball. Place the dough in the bowl, and cover tightly with plastic wrap. Place the bowl in a spot that's room temperature, neither warm nor cool. In 2 hours or so, the dough should double in size.

Shape the pizzas. Cut dough into 4 quarters. Place 1 quarter on a floured surface, pulling it gently into a round as you place it on the surface. Either stretch or pull the dough into approximate 6" rounds, slightly thicker on the rim. I like to use my fists beneath the dough but if it threatens to tear, I lay it out and gingerly pat/pull. But don't fret, you can patch up holes with a pinch of dough.

Once formed, make sure each pizza isn't sticking and add flour beneath them if they seem to be. Cover them with a towel and let them rest again for a minimum of 10 and a maximum of 60 minutes.


Make toppings:

During the first resting of the crust, prepare the toppings. Heat oven to 375°.

Toss sliced potatoes with 1 Tbsp olive oil and sprinkle to taste with kosher salt and with the rosemary. Roast until soft and crispy on the edges, about 10-15 minutes. More like 20 if you're using bigger potatoes. Increase heat to 550° and place pizza stone in the oven if using.

Blanch the rapini about 30 seconds and then shock in an ice bath. Drain and cut into bite sized pieces.

Heat 1 Tbsp olive oil in a skillet. Add garlic and red pepper flakes, sautéing until fragrant, about a minute. Add the rapini & a healthy pinch of salt (about 1/2 tsp, but season to taste). Saute a minute or so. Remove from heat. Set aside along with the finished potatoes. Mix the two cheeses to combine.

Assemble:

The oven should now be heated to 550°. ** there is a note in the intro to the recipe about an alternate baking temp

If using a stone, top pizzas on the peel dusted with cornmeal or flour before putting in the oven. If using a baking sheet, top the pizzas on the baking sheet (also dusted with cornmeal or flour).

Switch oven to broil, making sure there is a rack in the middle.

Brush crusts with olive oil. Sprinkle half a cup of cheese on each of the four pizzas as you assemble them. Broil them with just cheese for about 3 minutes or until the cheese is melted and the crust is puffing. Remove from oven and add additional toppings, the rapini & potatoes and an extra quarter cup of cheese along with an egg cracked in the middle if you so choose. Broil until brown (I like dark spots on my crust) and bubbly and the egg white is cooked through about 5-7 more minutes. If it starts to get too dark just turn the oven off of broil and back to bake & move the pizza to the lower rack until done.

Remove with a peel if they're on a stone, slice, and serve!

salted spicy double chocolate chili cookies

I've been a little stressed out lately which leads me to rearrange furniture (hence my beloved albeit work in progress new ambivalently aqua office) and bake. The baking serves a dual purpose as consuming sugar is another of my favorite coping mechanisms. One night after dinner we had a simultaneous craving for something, anything really, sweet. But we were broke. See previous post for explanation. Upon looking in the relatively barren cupboards this is what I came up with, inspired by a spicy cookie conversation had earlier in the week: chocolate, cayenne, and salt. I found a disc of Tazo's chipotle chocolate that had been hiding behind a tin of tea and we were setter than set.

He counted out some quarters from a coffee mug on the kitchen counter and ran to the store for chocolate chips because I insisted it just wouldn't be the same without lots of chocolate chips, the one meager disc of chocolate would not suffice. Our precious quarters were worth it. And it wouldn't have been the same, I was right. The chips were critical. I meant for him to grab dark chocolate chips, but he got the regular ones. Being a dude and all he wasn't paying attention to the finer points (percentages, obviously...or the word "dark") of chocolate chips. The bag said "chips" and that was good enough for him. That said, I actually really liked them with regular old chips. There's a lot going on in these cookies and they aren't cloyingly sweet so I didn't mind the regular in this situation as opposed to my default of dark chocolate in everything. I regard milk chocolate, as a general rule anyway, as largely inadequate and inferior on the whole to dark. But I think if I made these again I'd do it the same.

So. A quick run to the wizard (a.k.a. Google), and I turned up this recipe from The Gouda Life. A little bit of tweaking to make them saltier and spicier plus the addition of chunks of chipotle laced mexican chocolate, and I think I may have found my favorite cookie. Given I'm fickle and find new cookie paramours on the reg, but for right now these are in all honesty the love of my cookie life. They're almost like cookie brownies if you get the baking time juuust right. A little over and they, as most cookies do, become crunchier upon cooling while still a little chewy in the middle. I'd say bake 15 minutes for golf ball sized cookies, 16 if they've been chilled, but it all depends on cookie size and oven in the end. Test to find the sweet spot if you can because when you find it they are perfectly crisp outside and yield to a tender chewy brownie-esque interior.

Salted Double Chocolate Chili Cookies

recipe adapted from The Gouda Life

yields about 32-40 cookies

They're salty and spicy and chocolatey times two. They're crunchy on the outside and chewy in the middle. They are, I swear, some of the best cookies I've ever had. The dough would make some pretty mad cookie dough ice cream. Just in case you were wondering, I graciously tested plenty of the dough. You know, for science. I think they'd also make excellent presents along with the recipe, though I haven't quite gotten to the point where I stop hoarding them. I'd give you all a bundle wrapped in parchment with some really twee baker's twine. But I can't. So here's the recipe, the gift that keeps on giving, but you'll have to bake them for yourselves. They take no time and are severely worth it. Severely. And if you have enough quarters, get some milk while you're out buying chocolate chips...

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups pastry flour

1 cup Dutch-process cocoa powder

1 1/2-2 tsp flaky sea salt or kosher (I kinda did it to taste. I like salty chocolate.)

3/4 tsp baking soda

3/4 tsp baking powder

1 tsp cayenne powder (I used 2. They were trés spicy. Like I like.)

1 cup packed brown sugar (I had none so I added 1 tsp of molasses after creaming the butter and used all regular sugar)

3/4 cup granulated sugar

3/4 cup unsalted butter (I used good Irish butter, I think it makes a difference) room temperature

2 tsp pure vanilla extract (I forgot this. Eh. Still excellent.)

2 eggs

1 disc Tazo Chipotle Chili Chocolate, chopped (or about 2 oz another spicy, dark chocolate)

5 oz dark chocolate chips (about 3/4-1 cup)

Cooking Directions

Heat oven to 375°.

Whisk the first six ingredients together in a bowl.

In a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment cream butter until pale and fluffy. Scraping down bowl as needed, beat in sugars until smooth and fluffy again.

On low add in vanilla and one egg at a time, scraping as needed, until incorporated. Add in half the flour mixture on low and mix to incorporate before adding the other half. Mix until just incorporated and then stir in the chocolate with a wooden spoon. It's a mighty batter, quite thick. So use your muscles.

At this point you can either refrigerate the dough for 12-24 hours (which I did with some of it), freeze the dough for about 1 hour, or bake them straight away. I found they were equally delicious either way, but naturally you will have less spread if you chill them. Also, you can chill them in the freezer for 1 hour if you like.

Roll them into golf ball sized balls and space them about 2" apart on a parchment lined or greased baking sheet. Bake 12-16 minutes. Let cool briefly and then remove to a rack to finish cooling. Eat them. All. I mean, now you can gift them to family and friends and such. Store in an airtight container, and unused dough can be frozen or kept in the fridge for up to 72 hours.

anegada & virgin gorda, the british virgin islands

Every time I sit down to write I get stuck. It's spring. It's snowing. I was gone all winter. It was really weird and cool and I did neat stuff that I'll tell you all about. Later. After all that business of winter, which was hard work, we ran off to the end of the earth, to Anegada in the British Virgin Islands together. With nothing between me and Africa but sea, I read a book. A real book. I haven't read a real book in ages. Always blogs, cookbooks, snippets and bits. Here and there. Because I won't give myself the time to read a book, which is something I very much love to do. But I just sat on the beach beneath a straw hat and read Gabrielle Hamilton's Blood, Bones, and Butter. It was grand, and we ate grilled spiny lobster, fresh out of the sea with a machete to it's head, every. single. night. We kept a room at the little Anegada Reef Hotel, and every morning we walked down the beach to Pam's Bakery and ate fresh baked cinnamon rolls with free coffee by the hyaline water. And during the day we ate local fish with tons of bones in creole sauce and largely subsisted off of conch fritters and virgin frozen drinks, Piña Coladas and Daiquiris and banana coconut drinks with lots and lots of fresh nutmeg. I put hot sauce on whatever I could & tied the stems of maraschino cherries into knots with my tongue in a very non-sensual absent minded way.

 

He wore slacks and a blazer on the beach, beneath an umbrella always, reading Romantic poetry and Carl Jung. Essentially he did what he always does but with more sand and water around him and me so very happy. He tried to swim once. It was endearingly funny in a tragic way as he stumbled out of breath on the dead coral heads. He can swim fine, but still he's like a fish out of water but the opposite of that. Part of why we're going to Ireland (we're going to Ireland in May) is because I feel I owe him a drabber climate after he so graciously went to the beach with me which is, I assure you, not his element. We smeared SPF 110 on each other every morning, and went to bed early every night.

Our days were spent at Loblolly Bay watching the waves crash in furious monotony on the reef for nothing. We got coconut pie at Dotsy's Bakery in the settlement, and I took hundred of photos of everything everywhere. We sat up nights talking to Bozo, a local fisherman & engineer extraordinaire, about the right way to clean intestines for cooking and secret shipwrecks while the mast lights bobbed in the bay, and we rode in the back of the taxi driver Courtney's truck to pick up his son from school in the afternoon. The next morning he took us past the spindly "garbage cows" (as the local calls them) gnawing on the shrubs and past where the road ends and turns to sand (which is really every where and quite often) on the backroads, behind the salt ponds where the flamingos live. The Anegada air blowing in your face as the truck bumps heavily along the sand roads smells of sea and sulfur, of cow shit, fuel, and grilled lobster. It's my favorite place on earth.

We came home. Work again. Only I felt stuck. Frozen. I could cook. I could snap photos. But I just couldn't write. Can't write. I think it's because there is so much, so much to say. That I can't say anything. I left this space on a strange note to leave a space on, a heavy note, but a hopeful one. I thank everyone, every single person for their comments, and I'm sorry I couldn't respond to them all. I'm getting back on it now that I've returned to the internet realm. So I really don't know what to say to you all. I worked hard all winter, and I came home. I went to the beach. We're going to Ireland in May, and I turned the guest bedroom (which just really a repository for everything I didn't know what to do with) into an office/studio, a real live room of my own to work and write in. I'm going to get plants. Cacti. Succulents. Hearty things that don't mind my neglect. I'm going to tape things I like to the walls and throw out all the old wedding photos that have been nesting in here like spiders. It's a sort of pale aqua room. I painted it that back in my early 20's when a pale aqua room sounded like a good idea. I'm not really a fan of it, I'm a fan of white everything now, but then I think strange, strange things like "It would make a good nursery color", and then I don't even recognize myself in the mirror. So I was away, then I went to the beach. I'm going to go to Ireland, and I have a room and sometimes I think vague disturbing things about having children because. Because I'm awfully happy and everything's wildly wonderful even when we're living off of nothing but flour, water, and yeast for a week because we maybe kind of spent everything on plane tickets. I'm not going to have babies, so no one freak out. But for the first time I think my brain and body have evaluated my situation in life as hospitable to new life forms. And that's a great thing.

So. Hi! I'm back. If you haven't seen it already and you're in the mood for more food less beach (I wouldn't blame you), check out my piece for Food52's "Halfway to Dinner" feature, One Loaf of Bread, 6 1/2 Dinners. I'm very excited about it and still quite flattered that they asked me to in the first place. Also, since we're currently broke due to what you're staring at living off of bread is something we're adept at. I've been cooking away these past few months (contrary to popular belief, my own included, things that aren't on the internet are still real), and I made you some cookies (chocolate, salty, spicy cookies...) which I'll share in the morning, and I even have pizza and some ugly tortellini and pretty Irish brown bread and a very 80's looking salad I might share in the near future. Who knows! But tonight I'm sharing these photos, photos are of my vacation, like one of those slideshows someone would have done in the 80's in their wood paneled basement after a dinner party. At least I think people did that. I don't know. I was a baby eating crayons or something back then.