A Decalogue for Women

I have had a deep connection to Parsha Yitro for the past 14 years because it’s my older son’s bar mitzvah portion. Well, it is the Ten Commandments so that connection truly began a lot longer ago. 

But one night, the year before his Day, we started to really delve into what these Big Ten were — and couldn’t. We were out to dinner and could rattle off five, maybe six, off the tops of our heads. That’s all. 

Since we couldn’t resort to the internet to fill in the gaps, our attention turned to other realms appealing to three guys — two of whom were preteen — that might have a set of rules, like… the Planet of the Apes. And so, the Monkey Commandments were born.

And, no, I don’t remember Any of them…just that, for a time, they were a symbolic stand-in suited to a particular group. So I thought that tonight, I would do the same for Women.

Here are my Women’s Ten Commandments:

1

You shall love your body-

Whether it’s thicker here than you’d want or a little lacking there, it’s yours and it’s your temple. It makes you, You. And You are beautiful.

2

Honor the good in your Mother and Father - and try not to repeat the “Ugh, I sound just like my mother” moments.

3

Speak up and Speak out. And it’s OK if sometimes you do it softly.

4

Say YES only when you mean it, and not just because it’s easy.

Say NO when you want to…because it’s really what you mean.

5

You shall say, “I’m sorry” ONLY when you have done something wrong. Seriously, only when you are expressing Extreme regret - I stepped on your cat or I shrunk your sweater - not for little things that are out of your control like, I’m sorry but you’re out of bourbon. Just have gin instead.

6

Keep Shabbat and let it guide your spirit throughout the week.

7

You will describe little girls by their character, not their looks. And remember: She is not a Doll. Or an Angel. Or, well … you get the picture.

8

You will Not leave your seat when your partner or child yells to you from another room: Do we have staples? Or, Where are my keys? Or, Is there toothpaste in the house? If they can pronounce toothpaste, they can look under the vanity!

9

Persist. Period.

10 (And finally…)

Respect yourself and believe in yourself. I do!

And, speaking of gin, martinis go well with this or any other d'var torah.

Details?

Here goes:

-Fill your cocktail shaker with ice.

-Pour in a nice splash of dry vermouth...I like Dolin when I want to feel special.

-If your shaker is truly full of ice, pour in your gin -- Gordon's for everyday special, Plymouth or Hendricks for particularly special -- to the top.

-Cap it up and leave it be while you pop your veg (that's what we call the garnish) into your coupes or other martini glasses.

Yes, that dilutes it a bit...that's OK! You're making two: One for you and the other for yours. If that's the same being, it's a good thing you diluted it. Juss sayin...

-Now you shake. And shake until your hands are reeeaaaallllyy cold.

-Strain into your glasses, sip, savor and

Enjoy!

Plant Your Ingredients!

It may be the beginning of April, but there's precious little outside that looks like spring here in the East. The sky seems to be perpetually gray - with or without showers - and the only things that smell like renewal are the potted plants we all received for Passover or Easter that are screaming to be let outdoors just like the rest of us.

So, if spring has forgotten my little corner of NJ, I'm going to force its hand onto my blissful acre. And I'm going to do it by planting my ingredients. You know: The Veg & Stuff I need to keep my dinners humming.

You can see (look left) that I have plenty of varieties to choose from, but I decided to keep it simple - about 10 or so foods - that are staples in my pantry or will enhance my pantry in the months to come. 

Yes, I'm taking a gamble that we haven't seen the last frost but desperate times call for desperate measures even if the USDA says my average last frost is between May 11-May 20. And that's more than a month away!!! Though, to be honest, I've chosen hearty items for the first planting. 

Carrots and chard and lettuce and turnips and beets and onions: These are the things I can 'safely' plant around April 15. Tomatoes and zucchini and radishes and herbs will have to wait for warmer weather or, more realistically, for the seedlings to appear at the Co-op. 

But whether you start from seed or teeny plants, put some dirt in a container and grow some food! With about a $10 outlay and a little effort - aka remembering to water - you can forgo the lines at the farm or market, grow back your investment and sustain yourself for, well, a loooooong time.

I'll give you the top 10 vegetables, herbs and fruits I want in my garden this year:

Veg: Tomatoes, Lettuce, Chard, Onions, Beets, Radishes, Beans, Fennel, Turnips and Corn. (#11, Cucumbers #12, Zucchini for their blossoms #13, Pum... nah, I can't stop at 10!)

Herbs: Thyme, Lemon Thyme, Sage, Chives, Basil, Thai Basil, Rosemary, Parsley, Cilantro and (despite being a crazy infiltrator) Mint.

Fruit: Apples, Peaches, Cherries, Bananas, Pineapples, Coconuts, Plums, Lemons, Limes and Figs. Yeah, none of that's gonna happen. Not this year anyway. But we may try to establish Blueberry bushes...Grape vines?

So if the fence keeps our roving neighbors - 










- out of the garden pen, it won't be long before I can pickle MY onions for Martinis and for sandwiches. And drizzle thinly-sliced raw beets and fennel with herb-infused olive oil for salads and eat a whole dinner of just tomatoes and corn. There's always room at my table; you coming? 

This year, what are you planting to eat? Lemme know in the comments!

I'm a Yankees' fan, but...

... How can I explain this?

I'm rooting for the for the Mets.

It's not a "New York" thing - that 'If my team isn't in it, I'll support my hometown team' thing. It's a roots thing; a DNA thing. See, I have the Blue and Orange in my blood. Got it, like a lot of things, from my Dad who hated the friggin Giants so much for leaving his beloved Brooklyn, that he switched teams, but not leagues. Oooo, shudder. Never leagues. NEVER!

How, you ask can I even consider Pinstripes as an option? Well, don't tell my DH (ha! rather appropriate here!), but it really has very little to do with the Yankee-lover I married. (Get it? DH can equal dear hubby, or in the AL, designated hitter.)

My Pinstripe Proclivity has waaaaay more to do with first and lasting impressions. Though not chronologically correct - nor filled with Bombers' memories - this list was formative. 

-The summer of 1976, I went to my first baseball game - and for some reason, it was a Yankees game - and I can still how magical the grass looked to me through a sea of blue seats that stretched to the famous white frieze. And as my Mom recovered the living room sofa in anticipation of my upcoming bat mitzvah, the Yanks - Reds World Series game drowned out the staple gun;

-Reggie Jackson became Mr. October; 

-Dad called me away from my homework to watch each of Hank Aaron's at bats, when he had 714 home runs under his belt, until he broke Babe Ruth's record with No. 715; 

-When I close my eyes and see Willie Mays' famous over-the-shoulder catch as he sprinted to the centerfield wall, it's in technicolor. Can't be - it was 1954;

-And come April, the crack of the bat emanating from each of my grandmothers' television sets heralded the promise of warm weather.

Well, the warm weather is once again gone, but thankfully, baseball is still here. To 'celebrate' we had stadium-worthy hot dogs with homemade chili sauce.

Details?

Here goes:

-Sauté a medium chopped onion in a heavy pot lightly coated with olive oil. 

-Add three minced garlic cloves (less if you prefer), 1t ground cumin, 1t ground coriander, 1T tomato paste, 1T brown sugar, 2t (hot) chili powder, and a half t each of salt & pepper. Stir until very fragrant, then add 1 8-oz tin of unsalted tomato sauce and 2 1/2 cups water. 

-Here's the odd part: When the liquid boils, add 1 pound of *raw* chopped meat (beef or turkey) and rapidly stir to break it up. Yes, this works.

-Boil until thick, but if you are impatient take out about 2T of the liquid and make a slurry with an equal amount of corn starch. Stir the pot vigorously as you add it back. 

-Get your dogs cooked while the sauce thickens. Check the seasoning in the sauce; might need a bit more salt or heat. Then ladle it on your dog with some spicy brown mustard!

Regardless of the outcome, there isn't much baseball left in 2015 so soon we'll have to wait for that particular sound to herald Spring. But I'm pretty confident the Amazins will prevail - giving us something to cherish this winter.

And unlike my Grandmother Rose - who refused to cook dinner each night her precious Dodgers lost - I'll keep on cookin!

...unless the NYRangers screw up in playoffs again. Then, all bets are off!

Hey ... remember me?

Good! 'Cuz it's been a while and you may've thought I lost my way. But no, I just went off in another direction. A better direction. A tastier one...

Lessee...

Some time ago, I declared myself Officially Retired from public relations --  couldn't stand that stuff anyway -- and commenced my second career. Or third, if you count my stint in newspapers. But, whatever...

While PR and reporting/editing are related, the only thing my new phase has in common with newspapers is the Wednesday Food Section: I'm a Chef. And, despite the name of this blog, a damn good one. Though, like any professional: even a Master can create A Recipe for Disaster!

Over the past few years I've honed my craft as a culinary instructor, baker, caterer and sous chef  - or Sue Chef as I like to refer to myself. (Get it?) I've trained on the job, at the Culinary Institute of America, and through the best teacher of all, trial and error. 
For the most part, I make my dough selling cookies. Original Wild Cookies, Citrus-Herb Shortbreads, Snickerdoodles, chocolate ones, spicy ones, rose-infused ones, fruity Kouign Amanns, rugelach... 

For a time, Suzy's Wild Cookies were for sale at Whole Foods. And while I'm always looking for new places to sell them - lemme know if you have any ideas! - I'm happily peddling my wares via mail order and at the Montgomery Farmer's Market each Saturday from June through October.  

Shameless sales pitch ahead...

Order online at www.suzyswildcooking.com

I hafta say, building my own business has been incredibly rewarding...even if I'm still working on making it financially rewarding. Every step, I've taken on my own... from researching those silly UPC codes that are on everything you scan at the market to creating valid nutrition labels to developing the recipes (natch) and creating my website ...So yes, I'll say it, I'm rather proud of myself. Mostly because I learned I could rely on only myself. Not too shabby for a validation- and buyin-seeking person like me.

So there you have it. 

It's been an interesting few years since we last spoke - full of successes and disappointments - but I wouldn't change a thing... Well, maybe just one. But success rarely comes overnight!

To celebrate, here's a fabu Curried Marinade for Chicken... It makes enough for about eight chicken breasts, but if you marinate four - AND DON'T CROSS CONTAMINATE!!! - the rest makes a nice sauce for when it's cooked.

Details? 
Here goes:

-Into a blender (or bowl, if you're using an immersion blender) put:

• 3/4 C Plain Greek-style Yogurt
• 1 T Olive Oil
• 1 medium Shallot, peeled and roughly chopped
• 2 t Fresh Lime Juice
• 2 t Dried Oregano
• 1/2 t each ground
• Turmeric
• Sumac
• Cardamom
• Cumin
• Fenugreek
• 1/8 t Cayenne
• 1 t Kosher Salt
• 1/2 t Ground White Pepper

-Give it all a whirl until you have a paste. C'est tout!!
-Put half in another bowl (NO CROSS CONTAMINATION!!), and spread the rest on both sides of the chicken. (I like to pound the chicken breasts so they are uniformly thick and cook quickly.) Marinate covered for about an hour.
-Grill on high heat for the first side, then turn down to medium when you flip 'em.

Pairs well with a Martini...then again, doesn't everything?

Chicken 'n Waffles...Skillman Style

I'll be honest: I've never understood the whole thing about fried chicken served on a waffle. I mean, really! I get the concept of a lovely square of leavened fluffiness as a repository for fallen juices or sauce, but this? The waffle seems to be there to sop up the grease? Ew.

Still, I've been intrigued....wondering how I could be immune to such a classic pairing. So much so, that I could almost say I was haunted.

So it's safe to say the notion of waffles is rarely far from my mind when I crave fried chicken. Ah, but even during Passover, you say? YES!, I say: Passover fried chicken is wonderful. Under a crunchy coating of seasoned matzah meal lies juicy, flavorful chicken! And since it was Passover, I dip one and a half times, not my usual two.

But Pesachdik waffles? Truly, I'm not one to try to fit year-round food into this holiday's mold, so no Passover Pasta or Pastries or Pain Perdu 'round here. That can wait the eight days. I prefer to put the holiday into the food and this year, the muses gifted me with uncanny inspiration: Waffles made from the batter I use to make potato gnocchi (NO flour!) for the Seder. A silky mix of mashed potatoes, eggs and herbs...yum!

Now, I get Chicken 'n Waffles! They were light; they had flavor; they added something to the meal. A light drizzle of pure maple syrup and I was entering the Promised Land!

Details?
Here goes:

Matzah Meal Fried Chicken 

-Heat about an inch of canola oil in a large cast iron skillet to 350.
-Place 3 or so cups matzah meal, seasoned liberally with salt, freshly ground pepper, granulated garlic and smoked paprika in a dish suitable for dredging.
-In another, similar, dish mix 6 to 8 egg whites with about a half cup of hot sauce.
-Dip the chicken in the wet mixture then the dry and repeat the process with just the tops. Place on a wire rack over a baking pan to dry and set the crust. 
-Fry to a crispy golden brown - about 10 mins per piece - or until the internal temp reaches 170 and drain on another wire rack over another baking pan.
(These proportions should coat the parts of a whole chicken.)

Potato Waffles

-Boil 3 large baking potatoes that have been peeled and cubed in salted water until fork tender.

-Rice them (or mash 'em if you don't have a ricer) into a large bowl.

-Mix in 4 T butter, salt and ground black pepper, about a third cup minced fresh parsley, 2 finely chopped scallions, and 5 beaten eggs. The mixture should be rather 'gloppy.'

-Heat your waffle iron, and using those directions and a lot of spray oil, ladle in your mixture and crisp to perfection.

I have seen the light...and it is good! Enjoy this variation - at Pesach or any time of year!

Changing rituals...

My family’s annual spring ritual typically begins weeks in advance while the frigid weather still clings to the land: My mother calls to see which night of Passover I want to hold the Seder.

"The first," I would say, after taking into account the day of the week and the boys' spring break schedule.

"Fine," she would say, "I'll do the second."

Well, that was up until last year when Pesach passed over us while Dad was in the hospital. We ate matzah in the cafeteria, but the closest we got to a haggadah was our prayers that Next Year We’ll All Be Home.

Unfortunately, Dad passed away in June and all our rituals have been turned on ear since last Purim. This is rather ironic, since Dad was all about rituals. But changes affect every family (even if it's not as extreme as this) and the story of the Exodus must be told.

So, I'm sitting here, putting fingertip to keyboard thinking about what foods I will make this year to grace both our table and Dad’s memory.

I’m sure there will be some tried-and-true standards and some soon-to-become standards as old and new friends ring our table. Some will be store-bought, but all will be homemade, even if it wasn't made in my house.

And while my biggest conundrum may be the main course… Do we want Chicken Marbella? Or the family brisket that’s been on holiday for the past couple years? How about grilled leg of lamb? Is this the year to ‘be’ Sephardic and go through with the sushi threat? I’ve always thought wasabi would a cool twist on maror. Or maybe make MY fried chicken using matzah meal... Dad’s favorite – chocolate – will make an appearance as a flourless cake and the requisite jelly rings and marshmallow twists (frozen, of course!) and we’ll make sure there’s enough hard-boiled eggs and salt water for the ‘soup’ he’d concoct before the gefilte fish comes to the table.

It’s a difficult year of firsts for us and I know too many of you can relate to this too. We’ll all set an empty place for Elijahu and hope he brings our loved ones along to sing Dayenu, whisper words of encouragement to the little one saying the Four Questions and giggle when the maror gets the better of us.

When the afikomen is found in Dad’s favorite hiding place – under his plate – I’ll feel him standing behind me with his hands on my shoulders and know that our family’s rituals really do live on l’dor va dor.

If I were making the cake for Dad, I'd probably omit the orange so nothing would distract from the chocolate!

Details?
Here goes :
(And in a switch from my usual, I listed the ingredients first...It's for Passover after all, a time that's different from all others!)

Butter, melted

1 1/4 cups walnuts

1 cup sugar, divided

6 ounces bittersweet (not unsweetened) or semisweet chocolate, coarsely chopped

1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder

6 large eggs, separated

Zest of 1 orange

1 teaspoon vanilla paste or extract

1/4 teaspoon salt

-Preheat oven to 350°F.

-Brush bottom of 9-inch-diameter springform pan generously with butter.

-Blend walnuts and 1/4 cup sugar in processor until finely ground. Add chopped chocolate and zest; blend until chocolate is finely ground, scraping sides and bottom of bowl occasionally.

-Combine egg yolks and 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar in large bowl then add vanilla.

-Using an electric mixer, beat until yolk mixture is very thick, about 4 minutes, then beat in cocoa.

-Fold in walnut mixture.

-Using clean dry beaters, beat egg whites and salt in another large bowl until soft peaks form. Gradually add 2 tablespoons sugar, beating until whites are stiff but not dry.

-Fold whites into chocolate batter in 3 additions. Transfer to prepared pan.

-Bake cake until tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 40 minutes. Cool cake completely in pan on rack, release from pan and serve. 

May Dad’s and your loved ones’ memories all be for a zissen Pesach blessing. 

I'm cranky and crabby

And I'm eating everything in sight as if I haven't seen food in a month. OK, it only seems that way to me. But after grazing through all the 'fresh' food around here on this chilly dank day - a banana, a kirby cuke, celery stalk, Hey! Don't laugh, I bet you have your days too! And You, you know who you are, quit worrying that I usually don't eat. Seriously. - I had a hankering for soup. But since I didn't do the full Hunter-Gatherer thing this weekend, the only canned variety here is tomato. Blech. (Sorry to all you tomato soup lovers - my dear Husband included - but it's not my cuppa.)

Then the Bubbles dropped orzo and bits of leftover veg in my lap and an idea was born. So I foraged the fridge for a half tomato, a sprig of rosemary, the remains in a box o'chicken stock and a pathetic little shallot. Then I grabbed the pasta and 4 tiny garlic cloves (to equal an average-sized one) and set to put my craving to rest.


Details?
Here goes:
-Bring about a cup of chicken stock to a boil in a pan/small pot that has a lid and toss in a good healthy handful of orzo pasta, a little salt and pepper, the rosemary leaves from the sprig, and let simmer mostly covered until al dente. As it cooks, you may need to add more stock or water so it stays moist and risotto-ish.
-Meanwhile in another pan, gently saute about a T of chopped shallot and the aforementioned garlic - minced - in olive oil.
-When translucent, add about half a large tomato that you've diced and a half t red pepper flakes and let 'em go on med low til the tomato breaks down a bit and has given up some juice.
-Add the creamy orzo to the pan so all the flavors combine. Taste for seasoning.
-Pour into a bowl and shave on some ricotta salata.

Oh, and this is a single serving.

Yes, I put it in a bowl. I wasn't giving in to the crabbiness and eating out of the pan. That's what dishwashers are for. Besides, when I finished, so had the crankies.

A helping hand for an ailing foot...

Well, technically leg...but 'helping arm' doesn't work. Anyway...

Every Wednesday afternoon, a friend and I meet for a cuppa tea and mutual support. Most times we converge on a gourmet market that has an open seating area where my friend knows at least one other patron. But a couple times I've gone to her home and last week, I had no choice.

When vacationing on the Outer Banks 11 years ago, a really rough wave tossed and turned Jeremy to the extreme. We thought he'd want to spend the rest of our beach time on the sand, but he stood up and let out a decisive 'Oh Yeah!' before going in for more. Last Monday, a similar wave found my friend on the Jersey Shore and broke her leg. In three places. Oh my. Not good for an active woman in her 60s. Not good for anyone, really.

But my friend is a trooper. She laughed her way through the story and the afternoon. And we lost track of time, as usual. Before I left, I did the one of the few things I do well: I asked what I could do to help. Turns out it was dinner time and she - and her cat - were peckish. So I did the other thing I do well: I fed them. Lilly the cat was easy...open can, dump in bowl, add a bit of water...reminded me of Sizzle.

It was a little trickier for my friend since I didn't know what she had. But she pointed me toward some leftover this - pasta salad with pesto and spinach - and that - canned cannelloni beans - and I added a few  cubes of mozzarella and a drizzle of olive oil and balsamic vinegar. There were a few other things in this 'salad,' but for the life of me I can't remember what. Guess it didn't matter, or she was famished, being incredibly grateful and polite, because she said it was delicious.

But it gave my muse - the bubbles - some juice: Instead of stuffed burgers for dinner as I'd planned (but didn't have buns or cheese for the stuffing), why not make a large, leftover this and that, sloppy joe on ciabatta bread instead? Why not indeed!

Details?
Here goes:

-In a skillet, crisp up 4 oz bacon cut into 3/4-inch pieces.
-Then add 1 diced medium onion, 1 lb ground beef, 3 minced garlic cloves, a mostly-seeded minced jalapeno, 1 t cumin, 1/2 t cayenne, 2 T tomato paste, 1 1/2 T brown sugar, 1 t smoked paprika and a few dashes of bitters. Yes, bitters...I was looking for a savory element to add and lit on the bitters when I opened the fridge. It worked!
-Saute until the meat is well broken up, cooked through and kinda caramelized, about 12 minutes depending on the size of your pan.
-Cut the ciabatta horizontally and scoop out much of the crumb from both halves - so you can get all that yum onto the bread, of course! Spoon on the filling, cut into 'manageable' servings, and provide lots napkins.

So with some Peanut Butter Wild Cookies I made earlier, my friend had dinner and dessert and so did we... The genesis of inspiration never fails to amaze me. And who knows? Maybe food can heal a broken leg too.

His memory is a blessing...

All that's missing is his hat.

I got many things from my Dad: my curly hair, my love of sports, my taste for whiskey, my appreciation of silly jokes and my optimistic outlook. Oh, and my penchant to don a hat.

Rarely seen outside without one, Dad’s hat of choice was usually a cowboy hat. To go with his cowboy boots of course, and his love of the Southwestern landscape.

In some ways, Dad was born about 90 years too late... But he wasn’t particularly fond of horseback riding and he wouldn’t have been able to enjoy the Marx Brothers, Abbott and Costello or the Dead End Kids. So instead, he was the littlest – best dressed – cowpoke East of the Mississippi.

But he wouldn’t have just missed out on the comedy … there was the music. Music that filled our house – and car – by radio or recording … Classical. Jazz. Big band. And opera. Dad’s music was the soundtrack of our childhood.

When the opportunity presented itself a few years ago, Dad actually stepped onto the opera stage… We referred to his performances as “Mike in Tights” because yes, he did wear tights one year. Ah, if only Dad could sing! Good thing that as a silent extra he didn’t have to. But we all knew he was humming along.

Dad enjoyed tradition and created some that became routine.

Whenever Nat King Cole came on the radio, he’d say: That man could sing the basketball scores from the Sunday paper and it’d be a hit!

When the freight train would rumble by the baseball fields during one of my guys’ games he’d check the time on his watch and invariably say: The 2:15 or the 5:20 or the 11:13 – right on time! Dad had such an effect on people that my friends would say it even on the rare occasion Dad didn’t make it to a game.

And one of Mark’s and my favorite traditions happened at breakfast on Sunday mornings…When we were all served, Dad would make sure he had two extra pieces of bacon…and when only the eggs were left on our plates and all we wanted was another piece of bacon, Dad would hand us each one of the ‘extra’ pieces from his plate. I don’t know how old I was when I realized he took more just so he could give us that treat, but I was old.

That was Dad. He had a particular knack to make everyone around him feel special.

And while some would say I got my easy smile from him, no one’s smile came easier or brighter than Dad’s. It was a beacon of friendship, kindness, caring and goodness. And with it, he told the world: Join me and we’ll get through it together.

Flashing that grin, Dad made friends – true, heartfelt friends – everywhere he went: the local bakery, the bank, the café and yes, even the hospital, where he’d chat on end with the receptionists before AND after going to rehab. He was so important to them that they took good care to ease our visits during these past months and we’re grateful.

I’m not going to tell you how much Dad loved each of you. You already know because he told you each time you were together. It was in his firm handshake; his tight hug; his tender kiss.

It was in his eyes Saturday evening when I told him he made the sun shine in my life and that I am who I am because of him…

…All our lives have been richer and sweeter having known him.


To celebrate my father and one of his favorite treats, here's a link to the previously posted Ebinger's Blackout Cake.

The tenth good thing about Sizzle

Sizzle, when he joined our family

I suppose it's serendipitous that more than 16 years ago, when we presented Dill with three choices with which to name our first cat, he chose the one that's also a cooking term: Sizzle. That's not why he picked it, of course. I think he liked the spunk of the eponymous cat puppet on TV and it was fun to say for an almost 3-year-old.

For a loooooong time, Sizz lived up to his namesake's spunk ... even when we moved (and he spent an hour in his litterbox before venturing out to explore) and when we rocked his kitty world by adopting Austen (our second cat, a rather large ginger tom fluff-ball who once prompted the exclamation: What is that?) ... but every sizzle starts to fizzle, and our guy began to decline about a year and a half ago when he developed thyroid disease. Six weeks ago, Sizz went from bad to worse with a limp-causing, fast-growing lump on his knee...and we began the process of saying good-bye.

Big sigh. I believe Sizzy's mournful wails warned the Banshees that he wasn't ready. And despite his making garbage of three gorgeous wool area rugs, I wasn't either.

Our mornings start with a vocal greeting from Sizz and Austy at the bedroom door to make sure we know they want fresh food and water. I don't know how Sizzy got up the stairs the past two weeks, but I cuddled his ailing body on the way down. And our evenings begin with him circling the kitchen island as I cook and he M'ows for wet food or as we call it, crack. Then there're the second dinners and the thirds. I pamper him with thawed tiny shrimp for the last one.

When people say "you'll know when it's time," you will. And it's scary. Dill realized he wouldn't see Sizzy again, so he made his peace before returning to school. But I kept looking for signs; though for me they were too gradual to discern.

Until yesterday. I realized he hadn't moved much from the heating grate in the kitchen, so I brought some of his favorite shrimp to him... He ate most of it, then lost all interest. Late afternoon, other things told me it was time, so I rang the vet to make arrangements. We discussed this as a family, but I was elected to be the sole human to accompany Sizz. So I swaddled him like a baby in an old towel, packed up a couple shrimp in case he ... oh, I don't know ... I'm a Jewish mother who tries to be prepared for anything... and gently laid him on the front seat with the warmer on and drove to the vet; one hand on the wheel and one on his cheek.

It was quiet; it was quick and I was home within the hour.

This is the first time I had to do anything like this... and pardon the pun, but I'm kind of at a loss... I'm not a huge animal lover, but my cats became more than 'living furniture.' They wove into the fabric of our family. As a sleeping pre-schooler, Dill exclaimed: No Sizzul, I don't wantamawy you. And Jere was struck by the fact that within their same 16 years, Sizz was at the end of his life while he was approaching the prime of his youth.

Throughout this passage, I kept thinking about Judith Viorst's story, The Tenth Good Thing About Barney, where a boy's mother suggests he create this list about his cat who just died as a way of dealing with his sadness. So, in no particular order, here are the 10 Good Things About Sizzle:

* He was our family's Alpha Male.
* He was more dog than cat, greeting us at the door and telling us when it was food time.
* He never brought home gifts of maimed birds or rodents.
* He lived in harmony with the boys' pet mouse and guinea pig.
* He came when we called for him and replied when we M'owed to him.
* He didn't mind when I affectionately started calling him "Old Man."
* He nipped at our heels as we climbed the stairs.
* He nipped at our hair from the back of the couch.
* He was very social.
* He showed his affection by pressing his forehead against mine, a kitty head bump.

So to celebrate Sizz, here's a recipe featuring his favorite food: Shrimp.

Details?
Here goes:

-In a bowl, combine 1 T olive oil, chiffonade (thin ribbons) of 10 or so basil leaves, zest and juice of 2 limes, 2 thinly sliced garlic cloves, 1 and a half long hot peppers or 2 jalapenos thinly sliced, 1 t each ground black pepper and salt.
-Add 1 pound (16-count is good) peeled, deveined shrimp with tails on and marinate for 10 minutes or so while heating the grill. (Cast iron skillet works well too.)
-Grill (or saute) until pink and serve over jasmine rice.

Ah, poor Sizzy Kitty. I still look for you around the house and probably will for quite some time. May your memory be for blessing.

My friend Bill...

...personifies all that is good about this season: His smile lights the darkest corners; his generosity knows no bounds; and his faith in us all is automatic.

And I came to really learn this quite by accident - if chance ever plays a role when someone special graces your life, that is.

On a nippy Sunday two weeks before Christmas, we went to get our tree. (Yes, we're Jewish; yes, we have a tree. Christmas is a secular celebration in our house where Dad was raised Catholic.) And like most families, we have a tradition surrounding this adventure. Our favorite place is Bill's tree stand - where Dill, and now Jere, got their first tastes of employment - and where the trees and the maple syrup, like Bill, come from Vermont.

Once our fir was tied high atop the van and the car alarm finally stopped (a tale for another day!) and we tipped our helper (Thanks Jere!), Bill roped me into working for him too. Actually, he sweetly asked if I could spare a few hours helping decorate wreaths because his primo decorator had a family emergency.

So as John tangled with the tree at home, I set about wiring cones and berries and bows onto wreaths. For four and a half glorious hours. And when he asked me to work some more, I returned Monday armed with Wild Cookies and learned how to make garland out of fresh brush. Though I became the self-monikered Queen of Garland, I was sure I was doing it 'wrong' because I went through bunches of brush as soon as they were clipped. But people seemed to like the super lush, thick, garlands because each strand sold before I finished it and I started taking special orders.

So maybe I didn't need to bribe 'em with the cookies...but before I knew it, the cookies were gone and Chuck (Bill's right-hand man) told Bill I should sell 'em at the stand...so besides selling Chuck more dozens than I could count, I made my first professional cookie sales to people I didn't even know! A big step for Suzy's Wild Cookies, Yay!

Toting more cookies and heavy work gloves, I returned every day except the brilliant day Dill came home from university in Ireland. (More on that in a bit.) Over the next couple weeks, I reconnected with people I didn't expect to see and others I had hoped to - You college guys have grown into Mensch Men! - learned more about my community, and made new friends including Jim & Peg (Bill's NJ hosts) and Bill's son, Bret, who lived with us for a week.

Through Bill, the world grew smaller and my sense of self-worth grew larger. And I found a subtle peace that I lacked.

In a famous New York Sun editorial, the writer told an 8-year-old girl her "little friends were affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age." And a 114 years later, it's truer than ever.

But Bill turns that on its ear with his grace and appreciation and soulful optimism. When people arrive at the tree stand with neither the requisite cash nor check, he simply tells them - no matter who it is! - to return with the payment later. When older customers ask him to deliver their trees, he doesn't just plop it on their porches. No, not Bill. He'll bring it into the home and make sure it's sturdy and safe in its holder. And when people arrive at his stand just to say hello, I saw their crestfallen faces if he wasn't there. He's cultivated friends and turned them into his New Jersey family.

Some skeptics might say: Oh, well...this joy is due to the Holiday Season. But I say it's Bill's spirit: It's just his way...and his joy and his spirit have no season.

I've known one other person like Bill... and like the girl with skeptical friends, I was 8 when this 9-year-old boy wiped the sticky apple cider off my hand at the local farm...his eyes sparkled and he left an impression on me of all that is good and possible...I see that again in Bill and I am honored to have become part of his legion.

So to further paraphrase that well-known editorial: Yes, my friends - skeptics or not - there is a Santa Claus...and he is Bill Manning.

So onto the recipe...Bill makes amazing maple syrup so I've been experimenting with it in a variety of baked goods...I made this maple coffee cake the day Dill came home...but honestly, I didn't need to sweeten that day at all. When Dill came down the ramp to the baggage claim, he saw his brother and he saw his father....but he stared at me, came straight for me and held me so tightly for what seemed like forever...That, is the best present a mom could get.

Details?
Here goes:

-Preheat oven to 350F and grease and flour a 10"x16"-ish baking pan.
-In a small bowl, combine a half c white sugar with 1 T cinnamon and 1 c chopped pecans. Set aside.
-Incorporate 1 and a half c Maple Syrup - preferably Bill's Fancy grade! - and a half c dark brown sugar into 8oz butter...it'll be a tad separated, but that's OK.
-Add 2 beaten eggs and 1 c plain Greek-style yogurt and mix to combine.
-Add 2 and a half c flour, 1 T baking powder, a quarter t salt and 1 t cinnamon and beat to a thick batter.
-Spread half in pan sprinkle with 2/3 of the cinnamon sugar mixture and a nice handful of dried cranberries.
-Spread or plop the rest of the batter on top and sprinkle the remaining sugar mixture on top.
-Bake for 45 to 60 mins until a toothpick comes out clean from the center of the cake.
-Cool just until you can handle the pieces you cut and enjoy!

So when the days seem to be darkest - whether by calendar or clouds of blue - remember Bill's smile and Dill's hug and that the most real things in this world are those you can't see. After all, a new year is upon us and the best gifts come in magical, human, packages.

Happy New Year!

A stranger in a strange land*

Like the first Europeans to settle on these shores, my older son is giving thanks on foreign soil. And while it's sure to be strange for him,  I'm surprised at how odd I feel that he's not going to be here. I guess I could prepare myself only so much 'til Reality had it's charming way of hitting me upside the head.

I shouldn't be surprised really, I mean Reality's been having it's way with me for quite some time now. But does anything prepare a parent - a mom especially - for a the first child to head off to college? In another country no less?

No. Pure and simple, the answer is no.

With my mother-in-law's solid love and support, she and I brought him to Ireland, got him settled, shook our heads in wonder as he shopped for various sports jerseys, watched as he took the training wheels off his alcohol consumption - yes, it's legal for him to drink there - and generally marveled at his maturity.

I was prepared to cry the night before our flight home, but I didn't. I just didn't feel sad...I started to miss him the minute he wrestled himself free from my hug...but I was so happy, so proud of the man who got out of the car with barely a backwards glance. And I knew we were both ready for this next phase of his life to begin.

And while Ireland has always felt like Home to him, it's here - roughly 3200 miles away from our home - that tomorrow he will sit among other American students, most of whom are strangers to him, and between classes, partake of this iconic American holiday with Thanksgiving lunch served in a campus pub courtesy of the University's International Office's MotherHens.

How odd this must be for him.

With that in mind, and the bubbles reminding me to use that butternut squash and quick, I decided to make Thanksgiving Chili earlier this week. Yeah, it's a goofy name...but it's more of a riff on chili than it is Thanksgiving: The squash replaces the tomato chunks and the beer replaces the tomato sauce....

Details?
Here goes:

-Preheat oven to 425 degrees.
-Peel, seed and cube a hefty (~3 lbs) butternut squash - or just buy it done for you - and toss it in about 2 T olive oil, a nice sprinkle of salt, white pepper, ground cumin and dried sage.
-Place in single layer on baking tray and roast for about 15-20 minutes or until tender...but NOT mushy!...cool on pan when done.
-Mince 3 large garlic cloves and chop a medium yellow onion and saute til soft in olive oil in a heavy pot.
-Add 1 lb ground turkey and break it up as you saute and cook it through.
-Season with 1 t salt, a half t white pepper, a quarter t each dried sage and ground cumin and a half t chili powder.
-Add the squash and all the drippings on the pan, 1 14-oz can butter beans (or cannellini) with their liquid, about 3/4 of a bottle of lager beer and 3 dried chipotle chilis cut into thin strips (use kitchen shears, it's much easier) and discard the really tough tops and some seeds - the more seeds you use, the spicier the chili will be.
-Optional Ingredient: Stir in about 10 pre-cooked chestnuts (halved).
-Simmer about 20 minutes and if it's too liquidy for you, break up 1 to 2 slices of bread and pop it in to absorb and thicken the sauce and simmer another 10 minutes to break down the bread.

This freezes well, so I set some aside for when my Dill gets home and gives me the lowdown on Thanksgiving in Ireland...

This Thanksgiving Eve, many friends are enjoying the relaxed company of their kids home from college...some others have an empty seat - because of work or school - just like me...So, if you're one of the former, would you give those kid(s) who walked in the door with tons of laundry and a hearty appetite an extra hug on behalf of those of us whose kids are still too far away? We'd really appreciate it...

And, have a Happy Thanksgiving!

*An update from the Auld Sod: My Stranger in a Strange Land opted to forgo the MotherHens' feast and chose instead to cook Thanksgiving dinner for his new chums! OK, so it turned out to be turkey sandwiches and stuffing and maybe pie too. Apparently the market didn't offer turkey parts for roasting, but Hey! Dill hosted 6 Irish lads and/or lasses for a taste of our tradition...and I know he gave thanks for having true friends around. And in a stroke of serendipity, the care package (with food and homemade peanut butter cookies, of course!) I sent just 3 days before - on the slowest airplane the USPS has - arrived 10 days early, on Thanksgiving Day. And for that tiny bit of home in his faraway dorm, I am grateful.

It's all about flexibility

And not the ballet or Pilates or tai chi kind either. After all, we're talkin food here...it's about knowing your pantry: What's on hand and what does it taste like.

Ah, nuthin like a heavy snow in October to abruptly bring on the desire for foods with the cozy factor of a thick down comforter. That's why I needed - yeah baby, needed! - creamy clam chowder that snowy Sunday. And while I had a lot of the provisions, I knew I needed to run out for cream, clam juice and celery. What I didn't know was that I didn't have everything from the original recipe I devised...because someone had failed to restock the pantry! Uh, yeah, that 'someone' is me, she types sheepishly. Doh!

So cue Flexibility, 'cuz I wasn't settling for anything else for dinner.

Now I knew off the bat that I was gonna start with some substitutions. First of all, Jere doesn't do seafood, so I planned to skim away some soup before adding the clams, throwing in some frozen corn and calling it a day. And second of all, I had 2 (6.5 oz) tins of (Trader Joe's in case you need to find some) whole cherrystone clams that would replace the fresh ones. But the rest of it I had to do on the fly...

I'll give you my Original version and put the Snowy Substitutions in green.

Details?
Here goes:

-In a sturdy stock pot (but not your biggest, save that for the soup), steam 3 dozen fresh little neck and 1 dozen cherry stone clams in a half cup to a cup of dry white wine. Some may take their sweet time to open, but don't pry 'em and if any don't open they're bad so: Pitch 'em!!

-When done, put the clams in a bowl to cool and add 3 8-oz bottles of clam juice to the pot.

(Snowy Substitution: crack open your tins - using 2 was good, using 3 would be better! and I think I had better yield than using the fresh ones, but anyway - and drain liquid into same type of sturdy stock pot and add bottled clam juice. Oh, and I didn't get enough clam juice when I went to the store, so I fortified with chicken broth...big whoop.)

-Cut 2 large potatoes into about 1/2-inch cubes...skin on is our preference, but hey, who am I to stop you from peeling 'em if you like doing the extra work and getting fewer nutrients?...and simmer in the clammy liquid til just tender.

-Meanwhile, in your fave large soup pot saute about 4 slices of bacon (applewood smoked is the standard around here now) that you've cut into 1/2-inch lardons until the fat is rendered and they are crispy. Remove the bacon and set aside.

-As the bacon's cooking, remove the clams from their shells saving as much liquid as you can (it's the Good Stuff!) and cut the larger ones in half. (Snowy Substitution: the tinned clams were all the larger size so I cut 'em all in half.)

-Add 2 T butter to the fat and sweat 4 minced garlic cloves with 1 medium diced onion (Snowy Substitution: 1 large shallot for the onion) for a couple minutes to get 'em started then add 2 chopped celery stalks. (This is so the celery doesn't quite turn to mush.) Add a little - as in small pinch - salt and white pepper.

-When translucent, add 2 T flour to make a roux.

-Whisk in the stock from the potato pot (you could've either put the potatoes into a bowl when they were done or pour the stock through a strainer so they don't plop into the soup - it all depends on timing and how much room there is in the dishwasher).

-(Snowy Substitution: since I didn't use white wine to steam the clams, I poured in about 2 T brandy at this point to round out the flavors. Ya know what? A splash of tequila would work here too.)

-Add 3 sprigs fresh thyme (Snowy Substitution: mince the leaves of 2 fresh rosemary sprigs), 1 quart cream, 1 t hot sauce (Snowy Substitution: about a quarter t cayenne) and the reserved potatoes.

-(Snowy Substitution: if catering to a non-clammy crowd, now's the time to add about a half cup frozen corn kernels and pull out 1 or 2 servings into a smaller pot to keep warm. Hey, if ya wanna add the corn with the clams, Go for it! It's just a Variation on a Theme.)

-Add the clams and their accumulated juices, season with a touch more salt and white pepper *if necessary!!* The clams and bacon are already salty, so you may not need it. Simmer about 15 mins and serve either version with some of the bacon on top.

(Leftovers are really good and it freezes well too!)

After being so rigid about what I wanted to eat, I knew I had to be flexible in how I got there... Compromise comes in every flavor doesn't it? And it's tasty too! (Especially with the French Bread I had made earlier in the day...but I'll save that tale for another day!)

Some women invited their mothers...

...others chose Golda Meir, Barbra Streisand and Michelle Obama. Still others picked the mom of freed Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit. Me? I involked Moo to come join us in the sukkah last evening.

What's a sukkah, you ask? It's a temporary outdoor structure, a hut, built for the week-long festival of Sukkot with 3 sides and barely covered so you can see the sky...it becomes the Gathering Place - the hearth so to speak - for friends and family. It's a place of connection and true community, even if you're alone. And though the sukkah symbolizes frailty and the temporary nature of life, what happens in a sukkah can be very powerful indeed.

Especially when you have 40 or so women gathering to celebrate the new month, or Rosh Chodesh.

(Rosh means head, so since it's at the top it also means start, and chodesh is month...Jewish women's groups often adopt Rosh Chodesh as a time to gather because of a woman's connection with the moon - ours is a lunar calendar after all - and we both have 28-day cycles. Oh! And because the women remained level-headed and faithful wandering in the desert for 40 years while the men ran off half-cocked, yelling "FIRE!" and smelting a silly little cow o'gold. So we were rewarded with a holiday...but I digress...)

So as if there weren't enough gals spilling out of the sukkah onto the patio and lining the adjacent rock wall, our fearless leader called for reinforcements! It's a tradition that for each night of Sukkot, you ceremonially 'welcome' a biblical figure into the sukkah with you, and that became our celebration... getting to know each other a little better by whose spirit she invoked.

So we introduced ourselves and said what woman - biblical, historical or current, Jewish or not - we would invite...as I said, I 'brought' Moo. I really don't know why. She wasn't particularly observant; I don't even know if she belonged to the women's club at her own synagogue. But she was the first woman to pop in my head and there she stayed...giggling with me, talking to my friends and inspecting the baked goods.

I think she fit in well with the crowd...each woman a testament to strength over vulnerability...Maybe that's why she came to me: The sukkah may be flimsy, but what's inside is enduring.

To make sure the guys endured without me, I made meatloaf the night before so they'd have leftovers.

Details?
Here goes:

-Preheat oven to 375 and line a sheet pan with parchment paper.
-In a bowl, combine 1 lb ground beef, 1lb ground turkey, 2 eggs, 2 T worcestershire sauce, a quarter to a third cup red wine, a quarter cup bread crumbs - I used matzah meal 'cuz it was the first thing I saw in the pantry! - 1 finely chopped medium shallot, 4 minced garlic cloves, 1 and a half t salt, lotsa ground black pepper and 1 and a half t dried oregano.
-Combine with your hands until well mixed, but don't mix it to death.
-Place on sheet pan and shape into a loaf.
-Pour on 1 4-oz tin tomato sauce - or as much as it'll take...
-And pop into oven for about an hour and a half...internal temp should be 160 when done.
-When done, let it rest another 10 minutes out of the oven so you're not serving crumbs.

And though their eyes weren't glowing quite as brightly when I came home as they were the first night they had this, they were happy. And so was I.

Sometimes, prayers really are answered...

(This is what transpired Saturday...and how I got another chance...)

Today is Yom Kippur. And I’ve been feeling crap for longer than I’ve wanted…often asking G-d to help me leave this place (metaphysically) and have some peace.

If I play my cards correctly, I just may be able to achieve it. Metaphysically. And if that happens, I will have gained the Awe of these 10 Days.

Before last night’s 1^st Al Chet (the confessional prayer), our Rabbi read some personal confessions from congregants that were humorous (the kids’) and poignant (the adults’) and my own formulated out of my pain: And for the sin of not knowing how to start to make thing right, selach lanu, mechal lanu, karpeir lanu. (Forgive us, pardon us, grant us atonement.)

And I cried through the rest of the prayer.

After services, I greeted my friend and she asked if I’ve been writing…my inner Eeyore kicked in and I replied: Only cover letters, lots and lots, that no one is reading.

Throughout the evening and in my dreams, I kept thinking of my Al Chet, and how I replied to my friend. These weighed on my mind through services this morning. Earlier I had a little brekkie and I told myself that I broke the fast because I felt weak when I woke and because I’d lost a few pounds over the week. I felt I had rationalized and that is a form of beating myself up. My prevailing feeling was negative. I exuded negativity. And negativity is physically heavy and draining and a burden and only encourages more of the same. And it feels simply awful. Nothing good – what I craved above all else – ever comes of it. Ever.

When we stood a bit later, the little girl behind me inadvertently pushed my chair into my knees and quite automatically, I pushed it back. Then I thought: Why be that person? She didn’t do it intentionally. Find another solution. And I did.

That’s when it hit me. Just be Positive. While I’ve always been grateful for all that I have – too many wonderful things about my life and in my life to list here – I have let negativity and to some degree self-pity have its way with me. It was one aspect of Me I couldn’t shake; it was seeping from my pores. And I realized that if I let it persist, I’d remain unemployed and I’d remain down and I’d remain in this rut I’ve carved for myself.

Before Rosh Hashanah started, someone suggested that for this new year, I should resolve to not put myself down. I thought – rationalizing maybe? – that I was just being self-deprecating. Apparently, my friend saw through the all-too-often put downs and called it what it was. This was also on my mind throughout these High Holy Days and was the spark I needed to survive. And to grow.

So now, as I think about having broken the fast before it began, I’m not assailing myself for sinning. I honestly feel that I’ve done as commanded: I removed the distraction, the weakness in my body, that would have impeded my concentration as I sought to gain insight and spirituality on this Holy Day.

That’s what resolutions and spirituality and growth are all about, right?

Maybe I’ll email my friend and share this as a way of explaining my downer reply – Maybe I’ll just let her see the new me – Maybe the peace I’ve found today will transform me back to the person I know lives inside –

Maybe I won’t have to say a word.

            For the sin of negativity,

            And for the sin of repressing ourselves –

            Selach lanu, mechal lanu, karpeir lanu.

And may we all be written into the Book of a Positive life.

Amen.


And with a small piece of sweet Pumpkin Bread, I truly broke my fast.


Details?
Here goes:


-Preheat oven to 350 degrees and lightly grease a loaf pan with spray oil.
-Put 4 (store-bought) crispy ginger snaps or spice cookies in a zip-top bag and bash into small chunks. Set aside.
-In mixer, beat 6 T butter (room temp) with 3/4 cup dark brown sugar and a 1/4 cup regular sugar until fluffy then beat in 2 large (room temp) eggs, one at a time, until well incorporated.
-Add in 1 can (14 to 15 oz) pumpkin puree, a half t vanilla extract, 1 and a half cups flour, 1 t baking soda, a quarter t baking powder, 1 t salt, 2 t cinnamon, 1 t ground ginger, a half t each of grated nutmeg and cloves and 2 handfuls of walnuts.
-Carefully beat until just blended then pour batter into prepared pan. Top with reserved cookie crumbs.
-Pop into the oven for 1 hour 25 mins...it's done when a skewer comes out clean from the middle.


It's traditional to celebrate the new year and new beginnings with something sweet...and it's always good to say thanks for being blessed with life, sustained, and for reaching this day.

I like easy...

Easy is keeping up with current events with the noon news and seeing a silly story about 'personal products' fetching a pretty eBay penny...

Easy is chatting with an old friend - whose dad is a Sports Legend - about our favorite sport...and ssshhhh, it's not his dad's...

Easy is realizing you forgot to portion out the bulk-buy chicken after yesterday's GPS (grocery procurement sprint) and when you do it tonight, half becomes dinner! WooHoo! Quite the coup since the bubbles have been helping other folks lately...

Ah, but what to do with those chicken thighs? Broiling came to mind first...with a marinade or a glaze? Hmmmmm....let's poke around the internet for inspiration....Oooo, what's this? A 25-minute braise, a way to get rid of the overly-sweet, not-champagne-as-advertised wine and do it all in one pot? Now, I call that easy.

A morsel on inspiration...I've often said that it can come from anywhere for anything...this time, I trolled looking for a "new" or "under-appreciated" flavor combination that would work for the grill (or broiler)...and the first recipe I tripped across was totally different...so what? It tripped my button's and that's the name of the inspiration game, right? Right.

Details?
Here goes:

-Preheat oven to 350.
-Pat dry 6 skin-on, bone-in chicken thighs, season with kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper and brown skin side first in a heavy (oven-proof) pot coated with olive oil. Do it in batches if necessary and keep warm on plate.
-Add 2 cleaned, trimmed medium leeks - whites and pale greens in half-inch slices - and saute on lowish heat to soften. Add sprig of fresh rosemary and 14.5-oz can diced tomatoes and their juice.
-Return chicken to pot, add accumulated juices, a C of a 'sweeter' wine (Riesling or leftover 'champagne-ish' ick), salt and pepper, cover and bring to a boil before popping into the oven for about 25 mins or until the chicken is done.

I served this with easy mashed potatoes and was rather appreciative and appreciated!
An easy Yum all the way around!

I may not get to Carnegie Hall

As with anything worth doing, practice is the key. You know this, right? Driving takes practice; a slap shot takes practice; a pirouette takes practice...and yes, pasta takes practice.

A lot of practice...more-than-I-expected practice...definitely worth-it practice.

Now, that's a huge turn-around from someone who cooks from the seat of her pants and was considered a better foot tapper than flute player in high school...nah, to me, repetition always felt redundant.

But something about making pasta - and making it well - demanded I keep trying. I mean it seems easy enough:

Take a few ingredients...00 flour, eggs, salt, olive oil and perhaps a sprinkle of water...

Combine them simply...mix, knead and roll...

And you create a firm yet velvety bliss to become a cooking icon where your skill is extolled in smugly jealous whispers about over-achievers who never buy dried fettuccine...

Whoops...my fantasy got the better of me...

After visiting Italy in September, I came home aching for the extraordinary flavor and texture of fresh pasta. There is nothing like the taste of pure wheat that feels dense on your teeth and is more than a vehicle for sauce. After four attempts feeding gracious family members, I received a couple accolades for my almost-there pasta but could not figure out why it was alternately grainy, clumpy, tough or sticky. Until...

...until I did two things: One, realize I was making a dough and two, realize I was making a dough. The first is important because if the mixture was coming together too dry, I could add a bit of water. Duh! And the second is important because I needed to increase elasticity that happens when you form gluten in the dough...and how do you do that? You knead it to smoothness, then let it rest.

Did any recipe I consulted tell me these things? Nope! Should I have "known" these things by intuition? Probably. But sometimes, intuition only kicks in with practice.

Armed with this epiphany I set out to try again, ravioli this time and two different fillings and ya know what? The fifth's the charm...

Small print: Blaming technology first - silly me - we thought the extruder on the Kitchen Aid may've contributed to my less-than-perfect pasta. So my sweet, hungry, toy-crazed guys put a bona fide Italian pasta maker under the menorah. I hear a rolling pin works well too...


Details? Here goes:

Pasta (makes about 1 lb)
- Dump 400 grams 00 flour mixed with a healthy pinch of kosher salt (about 2t) onto (clean! Do I hafta say that?) counter and make a wide well in the center that will contain the liquid.
- Pour about a T olive oil into the well and then beat 4 whole large eggs and 1 additional yolk and add to well. Have a cup of room temp water handy in case you need it.
- Slowly, using a fork (yuck) or your fingers (yay) begin to pull in small amounts of flour into the egg mixture gathering more and more flour from the center until you can 'break' the walls of the well without getting eggs everywhere.
- As you pull everything together, this is where you might need a splash - really 1T at a time - of water to help incorporate all the flour. More small print: I didn't think it mattered if I couldn't work in all the flour, but with a small bit of water you can...and more flour means more gluten and more gluten means smoothness and strength.
- Now, the work begins. Knead that baby in long strokes til your arm hurts, then knead it for another 10 mins...or better yet, ask your Master Mixologist to do it! Really. I didn't knead it enough and it wasn't until I went past the 'oh, it's OK like that' stage that I saw and felt the transformation. It became soft, smooth and creamy while not being wet. That's when I knew practice makes perfect.
- Wrap the dough in plastic, flatten in a disk and let it rest on the counter for 30 mins to an hour.

No futzing for at least a half hour! Plenty o'time to whip up a filling or two for ravioli. In anticipation, I'd roasted small chunks of a whole butternut squash tossed in olive oil and coated with kosher salt, white pepper and cumin in a 425-degree oven for 35 mins until it was soft and easily smooshy. This became the basis for Rav I and frozen spinach became the basis for Rav II.

Butternut Squash Ravioli filling
- To the aforementioned roasted squash, mix in 1T balsamic vinegar, a quarter c mascarpone cheese and 2T parmesan cheese.
- Combine well and pop into a quart-sized zip-top bag for easy squeezing onto the pasta.

Spinach Ricotta Ravioli filling
- Thaw about 12oz frozen spinach (nuking it is fine, just don't 'cook' it) and squeeze out the copious water.
- Add about 1c ricotta, a beaten egg, kosher salt, freshly ground black pepper, about a half t freshly grated nutmeg and about a quarter t cayenne.
- Combine well and pop into it's own quart-sized zip-top bag.

Now's a good time to put up a pot of well-salted water to cook the pasta and lightly flour some tea towels or baking trays lined with parchment as a landing area for the just-filled or rolled out pasta. Oh, and get out a cup of water and a pastry brush.


Cut the pasta into quarters making sure to keep any pieces you're not immediately working with covered. Take your first quarter and starting on the 0 (or widest setting) start rolling the dough...we did it 3 times each on the 0 and 1 settings and sequentially moved on to #6 so the dough was less than a mm thick - I think.

Now, the assembly:
Take the rolled pasta and paint it lightly with water on one side, then snip a corner of your filling bag so the hole has about a half-inch diameter and squeeze a nice T of filling onto your sheet, leaving about an inch-and-a-half between dollops.

These pix show how I placed the filling so I could fold the top of the pasta over it, press it down over the filling so the air isn't trapped inside (so the flavor explosion is in the mouth, not the cooking pot!) and sealed by the water we 'painted' earlier.

  Cut out the raviolis and place on the towels or trays...like this:

And boil til they float or freeze...Yum! Oh wait, I forgot the sauce...


It's easy peasy...really!

- In a saute pan, gently melt 1 stick butter and as it slowly browns, add 3 bruised rosemary stalks.
- Thinly slice 2 large shallots and mince 3 large-ish garlic cloves and add to butter to sweat.
- Add salt and pepper...then add a half c boxed chicken stock....let all soften, then raise heat and bring to boil to thicken a bit.
- Mix in a third c parmesan and then a quarter to a third c heavy cream...simmer, but don't boil...check seasonings, then add cooked pasta to sauce to coat, comme ca:

 Whew...that's everything! Well, everything except how ridiculously delicious it is. Unbelievable, actually...and all it took was a little practice...

And while I may not get to Carnegie Hall, this pasta did get me back to Italy and put a little symphony in my mouth.