"Too rich and dark" chocolate pudding

A while back, I made some chipotle chocolate pudding parfaits. Humbly speaking, they were pretty darn awesome. At least, I thought so. D? Not so much. She prefers snack packs, I guess. But I don't give up so easily. There's no way those gelatinous, tasteless pudding packs can beat homemade chocolate pudding. Armed with my best chocolate (callebaut 70%), organic whole milk, and a little bit of love, I set out to make chocolate pudding that D might like.

"It's too dark and rich," she said. Really, I can't win around here.

Too dark and rich? What does that even mean? No such thing. This chocolate pudding is dead easy, practically foolproof (see my note in the recipe about avoiding lumps) and relatively healthy, compared to butter-filled sweets. It calls for whole milk, but it'll work with any kind, even skim. And if you don't love your puddin' super-sweet, omit 2 Tbsp of the sugar. Anyway you make it, this pudding is a fantastic dessert/snack. I don't bother to scoop it into ramekins: I just cool the whole thing in the fridge, and occasionally dip a spoon in when I'm craving something sweet after dinner.

While I'd really like to get D off the snack packs, I guess the fact that she doesn't like my pudding just means there's more for me.

Silky Chocolate Pudding Adapted from John Scharffenberger, via Smitten Kitchen Serves 6

Note: I think I figured out a way to avoid lumps from forming. Instead of adding the milk all at once, add a little bit of it first -- enough to make a very thin paste. Stir with a whisk to break up all the little lumps, and when it's completely emulsified, add the rest of the milk.

1/4 cup cornstarch 1/2 cup sugar 1/8 teaspoon salt 3 cups whole milk 6 ounces 62% semisweet chocolate, coarsely chopped (I used good quality chocolate in block form, and just chopped it up; use 70% bittersweet if you want more of a dark chocolate kick) 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract (2 Tbsp. rum, optional) (1/2 tsp. chipotle, optional)

1. Combine the cornstarch, sugar and salt in the top of a double boiler. Slowly whisk in the milk, scraping the bottom and sides with a heatproof spatula to incorporate the dry ingredients. Place over gently simmering water and stir occasionally, scraping the bottom and sides with a whisk. After 15 to 20 minutes, when the mixture begins to thicken and coats the back of the spoon, add the chocolate. Continue stirring for about 2 to 4 minutes, or until the pudding is smooth and thickened. Remove from the heat and stir in the vanilla.

2. Strain through a fine-mesh strainer (or skip this step if you’re a slacker like me who is absolutely certain that there is nary a lump her puddin’) into a serving bowl or into a large measuring cup with a spout and pour into individual serving dishes.

3. If you like pudding skin, pull plastic wrap over the top of the serving dish(es) before refrigerating. If you dislike pudding skin, place plastic wrap on top of the pudding and smooth it gently against the surface before refrigerating. Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes and up to 3 days.

Polenta with Tomatoes, Shallots, and Goat Cheese

Forget Rachael Ray, with her hoarse voice and her annoying little mannerisms. I'll show you a 30 minute meal -- better yet, a 15-minute meal -- that'll have you at the table before you can say "EVOO". It's called polenta, and it's really flippin' easy. You can actually make it more quickly than I can write this post. And while I've included the recipe for polenta with tomatoes, shallots, and goat cheese, you can easily make it with something else. As always, I've listed several variations.

Polenta is basically poor man's food: it's simple, it's cheap, it's sustaining, and it's dead-easy to make. All you need is cornmeal, salt, and water -- ohh, and a fair amount of muscle for all the stirring you'll be doing.

The method is simple: heat the water til warm, add polenta. Stir til your hand wants to fall off, then a little more. For soft polenta, you'll be stirring about 7ish minutes, maybe 8. It's done when it's just past al dente and well-emulsified. For a firmer polenta, you're done when the polenta pulls away from the sides of the pot, about 10 minutes.

Here are some flavor variations:

- Pears, Gorgonzola, a squeeze of honey and some pecans or walnuts - Feta cheese, basil, and tomatoes - Red peppers and pesto - Cheddar cheese (I like white) and apple slices quick-sauteed in a tab of butter - salt and pepper (polenta is awesome on its own) - Mushrooms, parsley, and parmesan (my all-time favorite)

Before I give you today's recipe, I need to give a (long overdue!) shoutout to one of my favorite new bloggers on the scene. Not a food blogger -- thought her posts will totally make your mouth water -- my dear friend Sarah has recently moved back east from the great city of Seattle with some serious talent under her arm and more than a few tricks up her sleeve. She's got a fantastic blog devoted to spoken word poetry, and she will KNOCK YOUR SOCKS OFF with her poems, for serious. I dare you to check out this blog, and you'll see exactly what I'm talking about. Even the title is so frickin' great: Remember When I Had a Blog. Do yourself a favor: add Remember When to your list of reads and prepare to be blown away!

Also, a just-added shoutout to awesome friend-of-friend Ashley, who's recently started a super cool business called Green Eyed Monster. She sells canvas tote bags that are friendly both to your shoulder and to the environment, and they have awesome logos -- you MUST check them out!

Now, the recipe you've been waiting for:

Polenta with Tomatoes, Shallots, and Goat Cheese

2 cups water 1 cup milk 1 cup yellow polenta (cornmeal) 2 shallots, chopped 2 Tbsp. olive oil 1 cup grape tomatoes, halved 1/4 cup of goat cheese, crumbled into bits 2 tablespoons unsalted butter 1/4 cup freshly grated Parmiggiano-Reggiano cheese

In a small sauce pan, heat olive oil over medium heat. Add shallots, and saute until translucent, about 3 minutes. Add tomatoes, and cook until they look a bit bloated and have begun to soften. Add herbs, if desired -- basil, thyme, parsley, or marjoram would all be lovely. Saute two minutes more, then remove from heat.

Meanwhile, in a medium pot, heat salt, milk and water until hot but not boiling. Add polenta in a steady stream, stirring vigorously to avoid lumps. When all the polenta is added, bring heat up to a boil, then reduce to a simmer and continue stirring constantly for about 7 minutes, until creamy looking. Turn off heat, add butter, and stir to incorporate. Stir in tomato-shallot mixture and goat cheese; stir gently to combine. Serve with freshly-grated Parmiggiano-Reggiano cheese.

Winter Salad with Pears and Manchego, My Catering Debut

Catering? Moi? Uh, NO. Not exactly. I'm flighty, forgetful, and a host of other wonderful things that don't mix with catering. And yet, today, my mom and I cooked and served brunch to a party of 8 at their home. The brunch was an item that my mom had offered in a silent auction at work; I'm a sucker for all things food-related, so when mom enlisted my help, I happily agreed.

Can I tell you how utterly shocked I am that brunch today went PERFECTLY? I mean, without a hitch. Not a single issue. Nothing forgotten, undercooked, overcooked, gross-tasting; everything plated on time, ready to go, delicious. I'm in awe of my beginner's luck. In awe, I tell you.

To be fair, we really lucked out. The couple that won our item has a beautiful and spacious house with a tricked out kitchen that's about the size of my whole apartment building. Mom and I hardly noticed each other in the kitchen, there was so much room. And we're used to working together in the house I grew up in, which has an itsy bitsy kitchen; we're the only two people who can happily coexist in that kitchen.

Also, the hosts had two ovens with pure-convection settings, so our finished dishes could be held at 135 degrees until they were ready to eat. That was very, very helpful. And on top of the space and equipment, the hosts and their guests were very chill, making the whole experience relaxed and enjoyable for the cooks as well.

In our post-mortem session during the drive home, mom and I agreed on the elements that were key to our success. First, in menu-planning, I made sure that the dishes were manageable given our timeframe. Specifically, each dish required either time to cook or time to plate, but not both. Second, when selecting recipes, I kept an eye out for things that people tend to like, even if I myself don't care for them. Best example was the french toast we made, which was stuffed with a cream cheese and apricot mixture. I don't much care for creamy things like that, but people swooned over it. Recipe to come in a later post, I promise.

Even with the caveats, I'm totally impressed that we made it work. And by made it work, I mean kicked its butt, hit it out of the park. We kinda rocked today! As you can tell, I'm really proud of our success. So proud, in fact, that when the guests asked if I was up for hire, I didn't hesitate to say "YES."

Don't worry, I'm not quitting my day job -- but I would totally, totally do this again. For money. And truthfully, considering the actual cost of brunch (inexpensive) and the relative bang for buck (diners thought it was fancy and delicious), I think I could make it worth my while. We'll see.

But all that's just prologue to today's recipe, a salad that will convert even the most adamant leaf-haters. It's dead-easy to make, and friendly to december's ever-dwindling supply of nice salad veggies. Best of all, it's freakin' delicious. Pics are from today's catered affair, with more pics and recipes to follow as I gather steam.

Hope you all had a lovely weekend!

Winter Salad with Pears and Manchego adapted from Epicurious

1/3 cup green (hulled) pumpkin seeds (pepitas; not toasted) 1/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon olive oil, divided 3 tablespoons Sherry vinegar (I used champagne vinegar) 1 teaspoon mild honey 1 teaspoon grainy mustard 8 cups packed salad greens, such as radish greens, spinach, watercress, and arugula, tough stems discarded 1 (1/2-pound) piece Manchego cheese, rind removed and cheese shaved into thin slices (preferably with a cheese plane) -- please don't measure greens. it's ridiculous. just use a package or two. 2 small red or yellow Bartlett pears, sliced thinly

preparation

Cook seeds in 1 tablespoon oil in a small heavy skillet over medium-low heat, stirring frequently, until puffed and beginning to brown, about 4 minutes. Transfer with a slotted spoon to paper towels and reserve oil. Season seeds with salt and pepper.

Whisk together vinegar, honey, mustard, 1/4 teaspoon salt, and 1/8 teaspoon pepper. Add remaining 1/3 cup olive oil and reserved oil from skillet in a slow stream, whisking until emulsified.

Toss greens, half of cheese, and pear slices with dressing. Divide among salad plates. Top with remaining cheese, and sprinkle with seeds.

Cooks' notes · Pumpkin seeds can be toasted 2 days ahead and kept separately from oil, covered, at room temperature. · Greens can be washed and dried 1 day ahead and chilled, wrapped in paper towels, in a sealed bag.

What I did with my very last tomato

Yes, folks, it's true: tomato season has come to a close. Back when I made this, in October, I wasn't walking, it seemed pretty unlikely that I'd make it back to the farmers market to catch one last round of tomato madness, so I figured it was safe to assume that the tomato I ate that night was my last for the season. I'm a card-carrying member of the tomato lovers' cult, so that's not an easy thing to admit -- but, like an old fling whose time has come to an end, I think I can walk away from this one with no regrets.

Running with that analogy for a minute: you'd like to think your last time with the fling would be the best there was to have, the best there ever would have been. But that's never the case, is it? Usually the last time is just....fine. Such was the case with my last tomato. It wasn't one of those specimens that could have been framed. No shiny, taut, glossy skin and jewel-like innards. Had it been perfect, I'd have eaten it raw, simply sliced with olive oil and fleur de sel. But I was already smack-dab in the middle of fall, and my tomato wasn't so perfect. However, it was jam-packed with flavor, that I can assure you. So I prepared that last tomato in a dish that quickly became a standby this summer -- a dish that's perfect for celebrating tomatoes' flavor even when their texture is somewhat imperfect. What's that, you ask?

Quick-sauteed tomatoes with feta and anaheim chilies. So few steps, so many flavors. It's one of those dishes where the right ingredients, the right cooking method and time, and the right appetite just work. It really is such an easy dish to throw together; while I generally make it for one, it is easily be sized up to feed a crowd. And while I often find myself eating it straight out of a bowl (and drinking the soupy sauce at the end, slurps and all), this quick-stew would be lovely (and a bit fancier) served over a slice of toasted baguette, perhaps rubbed with garlic. Already, I'm wishing I had a few more bites on hand!

If you've got one more tomato -- or, perhaps, one tomato that's not as shiny and perfect as all the others -- don't hesitate; make this dish. I promise, you'll look back on that last tomato with fond memories, and not one ounce of regret.

Sauteed tomatoes with feta and anaheim chilies serves 1

1 large tomato, needn't be perfect; I used beefsteak 1 anaheim chili 1 sprig cilantro, optional a couple big chunks feta cheese, high quality and not low-fat salt and pepper

Roast the chili over an open flame. I use my gas stove. Roast until the skin is blistered all over. Either using a damp paper towel or under running water, remove the charred skin until only the flesh remains. To reduce the pepper's heat, remove the seeds and fibrous membrane threads as well. Slice pepper into rings.

Slice tomato into 8 wedges, and slice each wedge in half. In small saute pan, place tomato, pepper, and 1 Tbsp of olive oil. Saute for 3 or so minutes over medium heat, until tomatoes begin to emit their juices. Toss a few times to incorporate. Add chunks of feta cheese, give the whole thing one quick stir to break up the feta a bit, turn off the heat, and eat immediately. Done correctly, the stew will make a delightful spicy feta-tomato broth at the bottom of the bowl, which is absolutely perfect for slurping. I usually lick the bottom of my bowl without shame.