Braised Sweet and Sour Red Cabbage

Not too long ago, I walked into my parents' house and immediately caught wafts of the most fantastic aroma coming from (as always) the kitchen. I started sticking my fingers into each of the dishes sitting on the dining room table, eager to find the source. After trying most everything else on the table, I nonchalantly scooped up a pinch of cooked red cabbage, thinking not even a little that it might actually be the culprit. Boy, was I surprised. Divine, I tell you! And I don't use that word all too often...but this truly is a recipe for the ages.

Turns out, it's also dead simple; go figure. At my persistent begging, my mom passed along the recipe she'd used to make it. I tweaked it, as I am often wont to do, because when I see an ingredient in the fridge and think it might add something, I've no self control, not even an ounce. And while sometimes that habit ruins otherwise tasty cooking (insert gross story here), other times, I'm rewarded for my impulses. This cabbage most definitely benefited from my hyperactive ingredient-adding tendency.

According to the basic recipe (which itself is quite lovely), red cabbage cooks until soft and fork-tender in a mix of tomatoes, red wine vinegar, sugar, onions, and raisins. Out of raisins, I used dried cranberries, which were nice (though I think I'd try it with raisins next time, since I bet they're just dandy). I also added more than a splash of dry red wine, which gave the dish noticeable depth of flavor and helped cut the straightforward sweet-sour dichotomy with a hint of bitterness. I also subbed in red onions for the yellow onions in the original recipe, because that's what was lying around my house. Red onions also have a slight bitterness to them, which wasn't obvious to my dull palate but may have done some good (who knows?). Last but not least -- here's the real show-stealer -- I added a generous sprinkling of pomegranate seeds to the finished dish, just before serving. Their ruby-red color and gem-like shape lent a decadence to an otherwise homey dish, their tangy-sweet flavor mingled lovely with the cabbage juices, and their crunch gave the final product important textural contrast. Needless to say, I was happy with the outcome -- and the dish got overwhelming positive feedback from my lunch guests (one of whom is notoriously, um, selective -- love you, T!) I'll be making this dish when pomegranates are available as much as possible.

Braised Sweet and Sour Red Cabbage

1 apple, chopped 1 red cabbage, sliced pretty thinly 2 cups onions 3 cloves garlic 1 tsp olive oil 3 or more cups water 3 cups tomatoes (I used canned) 2/3 cup raisins or craisins 1/2 cup plus a couple Tbsp. red wine vinegar 1/2 cup sugar or brown sugar salt and pepper 1/2 cup dry red wine, to taste the seeds of 1 pomegranate

In large pot, saute onion and garlic in olive oil over medium heat until translucent and fragrant. Add cabbage, 2 cups of water, and remaining ingredients except pomegranate and salt. Cover and ignore. Seriously. You want the cabbage to soften and break down a bit, and the other flavors to meet and mingle. Check occasionally, and add water as needed to prevent sticking. In all, the cabbage should take about an hour; you want it really soft and fragrant, and you want the scent to be mellow and rich. Promise -- it's really delicious when it's finished. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

At this point, you can store the cabbage in the fridge for up to two weeks or in the freezer forever (did I just say that?)

Immediately before serving, sprinkle the pomegranate seeds overtop and toss to incorporate. You won't be sorry.

Steelcut Oatmeal with Peach Compote

Is it obvious I love breakfast? Between french toast casserole, cinnamon buns, vintage breakfast biscuits, shakshuka, and even simple bites like this one, I seem to have found my obsession. In keeping with my breakfast trend, here's another maddeningly simple morning meal option: steelcut oats.

What are steelcut oats? They're oats, really -- but unlike quick oats, which are essentially slices of oats, steelcut oats are like large crumbs. They look more like Grape Nuts than Quaker. They're also quite firm; they don't crumble in your hand the way quick oats can. They take about 25 minutes to cook fully, which means you need to have a bit of time to cook'em up. But if you've got the time, you'll be handsomely rewarded: cooked steelcut oats are like a thicker, homier version of grits or polenta, with a distinctly nutty flavor and lovely pot liquor. I also add a pinch of salt to the water for contrast, and a daub of butter at the end, a la Mandy, because it makes breakfast more luxurious. In my humble opinion, oatmeal is best topped with a splash of milk or half and half, and either a dollop of jam or a spoonful of fresh fruit compote. In this case, I used my very last summer peach to make a lovely quick compote that went perfectly with the oatmeal.

These steelcut oats make a lovely break from my weekday morning routine, but oatmeal's really a splendid breakfast, anyway you cut it.

Steelcut Oatmeal with Peach Compote 1 cup steelcut oats 2 cups water a pinch of salt 1 Tbsp butter, optional

In a small pot, bring water and salt to a boil. Add oats, stir to incorporate, and turn heat down to low. Let oatmeal simmer, stirring regularly, for about 25 minutes, until water is absorbed and remaining liquid is thick, as with grits or polenta.

While oatmeal is cooking, make peach compote:

1 peach 2-3 Tbsp. sugar 1 tsp. cinnamon pinch salt 1/2 cup water splash white wine, optional

Combine all ingredients in a small saute pan. Simmer over medium heat until liquid is reduced and syrupy, about 10-15 minutes.

Serve oatmeal in deep, comfort-food bowls, with cream and peach compote (or jam, or even maple syrup. yum.)

lazy boozy french toast casserole

Since having surgery on my foot, my time in the kitchen has been severely limited. It pretty much hurts to stand still for more than a few minutes, and I can't put much pressure on the foot yet. My left foot is taking a serious hit, what with all the hopping and limping, so standing on one foot to cook complex, multi-step dishes is also not an option. With this in mind, I've had to curtail my everyday zeal about being in the kitchen, and limit my cooking to practical dishes requiring little to no prep.

When at last Saturday's lunch we found ourselves with a whole extra challah, I somehow got tapped to take it home. And people, I think we all know that there are few things better than day-old challah french toast on a lazy Sunday. With that said, soon as I woke up on Sunday morning, I realized that the absolute last thing I wanted to do was hover at the stove, waiting for all those slices to soak and fry up. It just wasn't going to happen.

Enter awesome Deb of Smitten Kitchen, and her recipe for Boozy Baked French Toast. The perfect antidote to both hunger and laziness, baked french toast allows you to enjoy this fantastic weekend breakfast without all the prep work. The result? A cross between french toast and bread pudding; not your usual crunchy-all-around slices of fried french toast, but a lovely casserole with soft, custardy innards and a crisp crust, thanks to cinnamon sugar topping.

Of course, some of us procrastinate more than others; Deb had the foresight to make her casserole overnight, giving the bread time to soak up the milk-egg mixture. I'm simply not that awesome. I woke up Sunday morning wanting French toast casserole, having done absolutely nothing the night before. But hey -- I made it work. I cut the milk by a third, so there would be less liquid floating around. I also dotted the top layer with butter, to ensure that the cinnamon sugar would get crispity-crisp. My last-minute game plan totally payed off. About 40 minutes after french toast casserole entered my head, it entered my mouth. Oh-so-tasty. Maybe I'm awesome after all.

Lazy Boozy French Toast Casserole adapted from Smitten Kitchen

1 loaf Challah bread in 1-inch slices, any kind will do 2 cups whole milk (3 if letting sit overnight) 3 eggs 3 tablespoons sugar 1/2 teaspoon salt

Your choice of flavorings: I used Deb's recommendation of 3 tablespoons Bailey’s and 3 tablespoons Cointreau, but she also suggests Frangelico (hazelnut), Chambord (raspberry), Creme de Cassis (black currant) Grand Marnier or just a teaspoon or two of vanilla or almond extract. You can add a teaspoon of zest for a citrusy kick, add a half-cup of chopped nuts such as almond slivers or pecans between layers or on top or a similar amount of raisins or other dried fruits. And of course, let's not forget chocolate chips for over-the-top indulgence.

1. Generously grease a 9×13-inch baking dish with salted (Deb's fave) or unsalted butter. 2. Arrange bread in two tightly-packed layers in the pan. Cut one slice into smaller pieces to fill in gaps, especially when using braided Challah. If using a thinner-sliced bread, you might wish for more layers, though Deb finds that over three, baking can be uneven. If you are using any fillings of fruit or nuts, this is the time to get them between the layers or sprinkled atop. 3. Whisk milk, eggs, sugar, salt and booze or flavorings of your choice and pour over the bread. Sprinkle with cinnamon and sugar and dot with butter. 4. If making at night, wrap tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate. The bread will absorb all of the milk custard while you sleep. 5. Bake at 425 for 30 minutes, or until puffed and golden. This will take longer if you have additional layers. 6. Cut into generous squares and serve with maple syrup, fresh fruit, powdered sugar or all of the above.

Serves 6 as main course.

The Simplest Breakfast

Lazy Sunday morning here in localsville. Since localseasonal September started, a Sunday morning routine has developed. I wake up, make myself a cup of coffee, drink the littlest bit of it and make D mad by letting it cool to room temp, assure her that I meant to let it sit as I stick it in the fridge for ice coffee later, and then trot over to the farmers market, lots-o-canvas-bags in tow. By the time I'm back from the market, I'm warm (it's a bit of a hike from Dupont with all those groceries in hand) and I'm hungry. So I take out those beautiful yellow cherry tomatoes, that Keswick creamery spreadable herb cheese, those farm-fresh eggs, and that lovely, tart cows milk yogurt, and I whip us up a little breakfast. Nothing fancy -- wonderful, in fact, in its sheer simplicity. These pics are from our breakfast 2 weeks ago.

Happy lazy local Sunday, everyone!