How to Summer

I know, I've disappeared lately. We've been summering. I don't have a full post for you today, because doing summer properly in Washington involves lots of time away from Washington: we spent a weekend up in PA, where I snapped the above photo of the team roaming through a lavender field. This is the right answer.

When we are in town, we spend Sundays in a hot kitchen with jars of tomato on the counter and glasses fogged from the steam. Morning canning projects are followed by languid afternoons on the porch, and evenings comforted by a glass (alright, two) of Amaro Lucano where I almost pick up the camera to snap a photo of the roasted cauliflower before it's devoured, but then I remember the languid part and I don't get up, and the cauliflower gets polished off, escaping any photographic proof that it existed. We feel full. And tipsy from the amaro. We go nowhere, we do nothing. We summer.

But I assure you, things are getting made. Bellies are getting filled. Of note:

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The tomates farcies from David Tanis via NYT look amazing. I bookmarked them immediately after he published them, intending to make them for the weekend. But the weekend rolled around, and when I lazily googled "tomatoes farcies," only to be sent to a much meatier recipe from 1981. I didn't notice that it was the wrong link; I just forged ahead with the new recipe, swapping out pork for cured beef sausage and skipping the cheese. The results were positively divine. Three of us polished off the lot of them one Saturday, after discovering - whoops, summer! - that I'd left them in the oven the previous evening, an entire dish of my Friday night dinner unserved, unmissed, unnecessary. (I am becoming my mother.) Make both.

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The tomato bread soup from the Franny's cookbook continues the streak of A-grade soups from the Franny's folks. (You can find the recipe here.) I hesitate to slap the word "sludge" on anything I intend to encourage you to make, but heck: it's a sludge, the best, summeriest sludge ever.

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If you can get your hands on methly plums - those small, fragrant dark-ruby plums with equally red centers - try your hand at a conserve with either ground ginger or, even better, galangal. I lucked out on about 5 pounds of second methlys from Toigo, a favorite farmer, last weekend. I followed Cathy's template for plum jam, and ended up with hands down the best jam I've made all summer - maybe ever. GO.

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Adi loves nectarines like her mama. We're not big peach people: fuzz ruins the the experience. But we (sans Adi) did very much enjoy a gin-based cocktail with muddled peaches, basil, and some demerara sugar. Sub mint if that''s your thing.

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I've always been partial to basil pesto over the parsley variety, but this summer, I've found multiple uses for a punched-up pesto with both herbs. I've been using a bit of shallot, some green garlic, equal parts parsley and basil, lots of lemon zest, and some very fragrant Turkish chile, pounding everything together in a mortar and pestle with plenty of olive oil.

I've twice found myself ten minutes before serving dinner and at a loss for an appetizer. The solution, both times, has been a simple cucumber-avocado soup. There are manyrecipes for this, but I've ridden bareback: 2 small cucumbers (I like the thin-skinned Persian ones), 1 avocado, juice of a lemon or lime, a slice of jalapeno, salt and pepper to taste. Whir that blender and pour into small bowls. This makes four small bowls. You can add cilantro, mint, or chives if you'd like.

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Mark my words, I will tell you about that cauliflower. Soon, I hope.

Happy summer, friends.

Thanksgiving.

In a cliche to end all cliches, thanksgiving came early for us this year.

Our little Adi was born Saturday before the holiday. She came into the world with a super-alert gaze, a chill, lovely disposition, and a full head of hair. Needless to say, we're over the moon.

We've spent the past few weeks offline, adjusting to the rhythms of parenthood. I keep thinking back to the Friday night dinner we hosted back in early November, where I made Peking duck, and that last apple pie I made the week before I went into labor. Both feel like they happened eons ago. Now there's a tiny human in our house, and we're responsible for her. It's all quite surreal.

To our great fortune, my brother- and sister-in-law also ensured that we had Thanksgiving of the more traditional variety. There was turkey, stuffing, kale, green beans, brussels sprouts, sweet potato casserole, gravygravygravy, cranberry sauce, and more pies and cakes than I had time to inventory. Loving, eager hands held and passed Adi all night; she cooperated perfectly. And when we had to leave rather abruptly, our wonderful family sent us home with a huge bag of leftovers to sustain us through the weekend. I even managed to secure a piece of gingerbread chocolate cake for the road.

Friends, I have so many recipes to share with you. If you'll be patient, I'll try to work through them over the next few weeks. The days (and nights!) are rather unpredictable, but they're growing less so. And to my great surprise, my desire to cook hasn't really faded since I gave birth. Time is in shorter supply and comes in small spurts, but I've managed to squeeze in a bit of cooking and baking between feeds and burps and whatnot. Stay tuned.

Meanwhile, happiest of holidays to all of you. Enjoy this lovely time of family and friends. See you back here in a bit with a recipe or two. xo.

Cocoa Nib and Almond Shortbread + News

Ooh, have I been excited to tell you about these shortbread. I first made them as a way to use up some very ancient cocoa nibs taking up space in my tiny pantry. The irony: I loved them so much, I went out and bought more cocoa nibs to make them again. I've made them five times now, and since they keep so well, I've had a stash on hand at all times, for company and impromptu snacking. I tucked a few in my bag last weekend for a post-museum snack with my parents (they're very portable) and a few more for yesterday's baseball game. We served them on the patio last Sunday night to munch on after our gazpacho was gone. These cookies are happy things.

But mostly, I'm really excited to be back in the kitchen. Spring brought on a bit of a cooking hiatus: I didn't eat much of anything, let alone cook. D subsisted on frozen Indian food and lots of sushi, while I ate an obscene quantity of pancakes (out of the rotation for the time being). The upside: I have officially mastered one-bowl pancakes. They're done in around 10 minutes, they're darn near perfect, and when I can stomach the idea of eating them again, I'll share the recipe. But for now, we're on to bigger and much, much better things: if all goes well, come November, we'll be a family of three.

Yep, I'm pregnant. Fortunately, I'm out of that first-trimester haze, eating plenty of the green vegetables and rhubarb and other wonderful stuff spring has to offer, which I really couldn't fathom eating only a few weeks ago. I'm also cooking again, and starting to plan for a summer of no- or low-alcohol refreshers, which should provide some fun new blog fodder.

In the meantime, I know these cocoa nib shortbread cookies don't seem to sing "spring," but they are so, so worth making, regardless.

Can I tell you my favorite thing about them? It's a silly little thing, but the rolled-out dough looks exactly like granite:

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(It also happens to taste very, very good. Consider yourself warned.)

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The other best thing is that the finished shortbread are really special. They taste like chocolate from all those nibs, but the flavor is earthier and less sweet than if you'd used chocolate chips. I confess to upping the salt a tad: I love a salty shortbread. But otherwise, the flavor is really really perfect. Imagine my surprise that the recipe comes (via Saveur) from Alice Medrich's latest book. All her recipes are pretty much perfect.

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And that's what I have for you today. Make them tonight, serve them Friday, and your guests will be none the wiser.

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Happy summer, friends. I'm happy to be back in the kitchen, and I can't wait for all that's to come.

One year ago: Cucumber-Gin Slushies and Cypriot Greens and Cheese Pie (two favorites) Two years ago: Two cherished yogurt soups and Caramelized White Chocolate-Rhubarb Bars (gosh, May is an all-star month) Three years ago:Simple Asparagus with Fresh PeasFour years ago:Vanilla Custard Strawberry Tart and Singapore SlawFive years ago: Rigatoni with Broccoli Rabe and Pickled CauliflowerSix years ago: Endive, Orange, and Avocado Salad and Rugelach

Cocoa Nib and Almond ShortbreadAdapted from Alice Medrich's Seriously Bittersweet

By nature a fiddler, I adapted this recipe each time I made it. Below is what I consider the perfect rendition. First, I made the cookies shorter. I found the long, skinny shape somewhat unwieldy for baking and especially for packing, and since I envision toting these to many summer picnics, non-breakability was key. Second, even though the cookies are much shorter than the originals, I kept the original baking time. I found that 20 minutes for the long ones left the cookie just on the wrong side of crunchy, which no one wants. If you opt for the longer cookie length, consider extending the baking time 2-3 minutes.

1 cup plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour ¾ cup ground almonds or almond flour ⅔ cup sugar ½ teaspoon kosher salt 6 tbsp. unsalted butter, cubed ¼ cup roasted cocoa nibs 1 teaspoon vanilla extract ⅛ teaspoon almond extract

Pulse flour, almonds, sugar, and salt in a food processor until combined. Add butter; pulse until pea-size crumbles form. Add cocoa nibs, extracts, and 2 tablespoons of ice water; pulse until a crumbly dough forms. Lay a large piece of plastic wrap on a workspace; dump dough onto plastic wrap, and form dough into a 6” x 9” rectangle, about ½-inch thick. Truthfully, the size of the rectangle isn't important: just make a rectangle of even 1/2-inch thickness and you'll be fine. Wrap plastic wrap completely around dough, set on a flat baking sheet, and chill at least 3 hours or up to overnight. The longer you chill the dough, the better the cookies keep their shape.

Heat oven to 350° and line two baking sheets with parchment paper. Unwrap dough.

You are aiming for cookies that are 2" x 1/2" x 1/2". I like to slice lengthwise into 1/2-inch sticks, then slice crosswise into 2-inch lengths. You can do the reverse, though. Just aim for cookies that are roughly 2 inches long, and you'll be good to go. Transfer cookies to parchment paper-lined baking sheets, spaced 1 inch apart. Bake until cookies are golden around the edges, 20-22 minutes. Let cookies cool completely before serving.

Reading: April 2014

It's been quiet around here this week, since I've been tied up with other things and haven't had much chance to cook. Still, the weekend is here. That should give you some time to make this lovely semolina bread, or perhaps these gingerbread oat waffles. Maybe it'll also give you some time to catch up on your food reading. Here are some things I've been eyeing, for your reading pleasure. Happy weekend, friends.

An unassuming little cocktail that isolates the DNA of strawberries so that it's visible. Awesome.

A deep and devastating look at animal cruelty on factory farms - the latest in a string of pieces that reinforced my conviction to avoid the stuff entirely.

I've wanted to take a food tour of Queens (or some part of Queens) for eons, and now Mary Jane Weedman has put together a thorough list of 48 eateries on one little stretch of Queens Boulevard...which Grub Street kindly made into a map. Let's do it, k?

We made this (from the Kitchn) with lamb shanks, apricots, and brandy. It was incredible. Already scheming to make it again with prunes.

A make-your-own-sparkling-wine-cocktail bar - brilliant! Part of our next party, for sure.

My next brunch project. It really does look like the kind you'd buy in a bakery.

This honey-lemon tea-infused butter has me excited.

On a tip from Luisa, I made this "faux-tisserie" chicken last week. Guys, it's a keeper's keeper.

Last but not least, that picture at the top is from this time - eons ago - when I made a version of Deb's spring vegetable potstickers but used kimchi, broccoli, and tofu. All in a pan, saute till soft, then process a bit before filling the dumpling wrappers. Not terribly difficult, really delicious. Highly recommended.

Happy weekending!