Spicy Creamed Feta Spread

Earlier this summer, we met up with a couple friends and their kids at Right Proper, a not-so-new brewery in Shaw. They've got a great selection of beers brewed onsite, plenty of high chairs, and a passable food menu. Still, it's a perfect spot for Sunday with little ones, whose grabbing and clapping are rivaled, if not bested, by the laughter and occasional shouts from beer-drinkin' grown-ups.

Strangely, the best thing on the table wasn't beer: it was a spicy feta spread, which was eaten -- okay, the plate licked clean -- before our second round of beers had even been ordered. We briefly contemplated ordering a second round of feta spread, too, but we had burgers and grilled cheeses and fried pickles to get through, so we held back. Silly us.

The next weekend, as we sat around contemplating another afternoon of beers and $10 feta spread, I decided to take matters into my own hands.

I had half a block of the Whole Foods brand feta in the fridge, which is both good and cheap. To make the spread, I broke up the feta and dribbled some cream into the bowl, mashing the mixture with a fork until smooth. I stirred in a bit more cream, then finished things off with a couple spoonfuls of the homemade apricot-habanero hot sauce that I don't use nearly often enough.

The spread became a staple nearly immediately. I've had it on tomato sandwiches, on avocado toast, layered with smoky eggplant, under fried squash blossoms, in omelettes, and on its own with toasted pita chips, should I keep going? I have even served the spread on slices of baguette alongside a pile of dressed greens and called it dinner, and no one complained. Now you can skip the $10 restaurant version, too.

Spicy Creamed Feta Spread
inspired by an appetizer at Right Proper Brewery

5 oz. feta cheese
1/4 cup milk or cream
Sriracha, Cholula, or another hot sauce

Crumble feta in a medium bowl and mash with a fork until no chunks remain. Drizzle in milk/cream one tablespoon at a time, mashing and stirring as you go, until feta is smooth and creamy. You'll need less milk if aiming for a stiff spread, and more if you want the consistency of a dip.

Add chile sauce a couple teaspoons at a time, stirring to incorporate and tasting as you go, until spread has reached your ideal spice level.

To serve:

• simply, with bread/toast points/pita/pita chips, as a dip
• with carrots/cucumbers/green beans/other dipping vegetables
• spread on a sandwich with tomato, avocado, roasted eggplant, roasted squash, etc
• scooped over a big bowl of farro/wheatberries with roasted veg, to be mixed at the table
• hollow out a couple small tomatoes, put a spoonful of the feta inside, top with bread crumbs and a drizzle of olive oil, and roast until hot and bubbly
• inside an omelette
• dozens of other possibilities
• a spoon.

Asparagus Toasts with Pistachios and Mint

I think I speak for all of us on the east coast when I say, FINALLY. Winter can see its sorry self out the door for another nine months or so. I'm preoccupied by my true loves, the asparagus that have arrived,* and I can't bring myself to talk about much of anything else.

*As I'm writing this, asparagus season hasn't really started here in Washington.** Usually I'm a stickler, waiting with embarrassing impatience for local farmers to harvest their crop. But this year, weeks after I ran out of creative uses for beets and kale, the asparagus still hadn't made their debut at my farmers' market, and yet there they were on display at the Whole Foods, skinny little bundles of asparagus from California. Are they as good as the ones grown nearby? Not even close. But I figure since all my citrus comes from the west coast anyway, I may as well start spring vegetable season a bit early, too.

This is a great recipe for those transitional weeks, when the produce isn't gleaming and perfect. The WF asparagus had a longer woody stem than I'm used to, so I removed those and sliced the rest of the spear on the bias into short coins. Over medium-high heat, I sauteed them rather unevenly in plenty of butter, so some just barely cooked through while others got nicely browned and crisp.

There's pretty much nothing you can do to mess up a good slice of bread slathered with ricotta. Adding browned, buttery asparagus: not an exception. To keep things bright, I ran to a flavor combination that I think I originally saw in the Zuni Cafe cookbook: pistachios, orange, mint.

If you time things right, you'll catch the tail end of citrus season: these toasts really benefit from the zest of a good orange (or blood orange) and the juice from a meyer lemon.

The weather's still bouncing back and forth here, one day as beautiful as it gets and the next cold and rainy. Spring isn't predictable, but there's one thing I can guarantee the coming weeks will bring: plenty more asparagus recipes.

** In the end, it took me almost a week to get this post live, and as of right this very instant, ASPARAGUS SEASON HAS STARTED!!

Asparagus Toasts with Pistachios and Mint
Makes 4 toasts

1 small bunch (about 8 spears) asparagus, rinsed and trimmed, sliced into 2-inch pieces
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
salt and pepper
1/4 teaspoon chile flakes (I like Turkish chile)
zest of half an orange or one lemon
1/3 cup good ricotta
4 half-slices of very good crusty bread (I like sourdough)
leaves from one sprig of mint, rinsed and torn into small pieces
2 tablespoons salted (shelled) pistachios, coarsely chopped
small wedge of lemon

Heat butter in a small saute pan over medium heat. When butter foams, add asparagus and a pinch each of salt and pepper. Add turkish chile and citrus zest. Cook, tossing pan occasionally to prevent sticking, until asparagus are on the crunchy side of tender and golden brown in spots; I found that this took around 3-4 minutes for stalks on the thin side. Set pan aside and allow asparagus to cool slightly.

Toast bread in a toaster or hot oven to your liking. (I'm a golden girl.) Spread a thick layer of ricotta onto the toast slices, and divide the asparagus spears evenly among the toasts. Finish with a pinch of mint, a sprinkle of pistachios, and a squeeze of lemon. Serve immediately.

Eggplant-Walnut Pâté + Passover Ideas

D's birthday falls on Passover this year, which means I can't get away with thrice-a-day matza brei as our only sustenance. For the first time in a long time, I will be cooking a meal on Passover in actual, non-disposable pans, and serving food to actual friends on actual plates. This small feat makes me feel like an actual grown-up. What that says about me, or the holiday, or both, is a conversation for another day. For now, we need to talk about our menus.

Were my birthday on Passover - and seriously, I love food too much for that to be the case, so phew for February birthdays - I'd probably want a big Greek salad, a plate full of avocado in different preparations, and a dessert made with no small quantity of egg yolks, cream, and chocolate. But this is D; not much of a dessert person, undying lover of meat. We'll be having brisket.

Our brisket is from KOL Foods, a purveyor of sustainable, grass-fed beef that also is kosher. The brisket's flavor is good enough -- and, considering the astronomical cost, rare enough in our house -- that I'm taking a minimalist's approach to cooking it. Instead of my usual pomegranate molasses recipe, I've settled on the famed approach of Nach Waxman. It's deceivingly simple: onions, tomato paste, and one carrot. But in my experience, no recipe celebrates the flavor of brisket more than his.

As for the rest of the meal, I'm planning to slow-roast a mess of red onions until they become sweet and soft. I'll also make a carrot kugel, because kugel is D's favorite, and it's her day.

But the brisket can't last forever (at least, not this brisket), and chocolate pudding/mousse/ice cream only gets us so far. Many of our other meals are likely to include a heaping scoop of this pâté. It's pictured here with sourdough. Of course, it's better on sourdough; everything's better on sourdough. But if matzah is your cracker (it's not bread, people), this pâté will make it taste like something, something delicious.

The method is simple: broil a mess of eggplant slices and a whole bulb of garlic. If you've got a food processor, you'll puree those with a bunch of ground walnuts, some raisins and capers, and a hit of cinnamon. If you don't, some patient knife work will yield a lovely caponata-style spread, which is less shmearable but, on the bright side, lets each component shine more independently.

Either way, on a holiday where hummus and peanut butter and bread (sob) are not on the menu, this does a lot to compensate.

Passover, previously:

• These pina colada-flavored macaroons are good. Not in a relative sense - I'd eat them not on Passover.
• Carrot kugel is an essential part of our Passover diet.
• Good weeknight supper? These twice-baked sweet potatoes should fit the bill.
• If you must make cookies, these chocolate ones are a great choice.
• Plenty of other ideas here.

Passover, elsewhere:

• Deb's mushroom pâté looks awesome.
• Passover desserts need not contain matzah/coconut/almond flour. I'll be making this flan at some point.
• This Persian-inspired frittata looks like a fantastic addition to my Passover lunch-for-company menu.
• For a show-stopper main dish at a vegetarian meal, this gorgeous cauliflower is my choice.

However you celebrate, whatever you celebrate, have a wonderful weekend.

Sweet-Tart Roasted Eggplant and Walnut Pâté
Serves 6-8 as an appetizer

2 large eggplants
4-5 tablespoons olive oil
salt and pepper
1 whole head garlic, unpeeled
1/2 cup raisins 1 tablespoon honey
1 1/2 cups walnut pieces
2 tablespoons capers (optional)
2-3 tablespoons lemon juice
pinch cinnamon
chopped pistachios, for garnish

Set a rack about 4-6 inches away from the broiler in your oven and preheat the broiler. Trim eggplants and slice 1/2-inch thick. Drizzle 1 tablespoon olive oil onto an unlined baking sheet; sprinkle a pinch or two of salt over the oil. Place eggplant slices in a single layer on the sheet (if they don’t all fit, you’ll broil them in batches). Drizzle a bit more of the oil and sprinkle salt onto the tops of each slice. Broil for about 5 minutes, moving pan around under the broiler to ensure that slices brown evenly. Turn slices and broil another 4-5 minutes, until nicely browned. Transfer to a plate, layering slices on top of each other. Repeat with remaining slices. When all eggplant has been broiled and piled into the plate, cover the plate with plastic wrap and let sit for at least 15 minutes, and as long as overnight. Eggplant will steam and soften as it cools.

Place whole garlic bulb under broiler (on the same pan as the eggplant, if there’s room) and broil for 10-12 minutes, until skin has blackened and garlic is soft. Tuck garlic bulb onto the plate with the eggplant and let it steam-cool as well.

Meanwhile, place raisins in a bowl with the honey and 2 tablespoons of water. Let them plump up while the eggplant and garlic cool.

Place walnuts into the bowl of a food processor fitted with the blade attachment, and grind until the texture resembles bread crumbs. Squeeze the contents of the broiled garlic bulb into the bowl, along with the eggplant, the raisins and their liquid, the capers (if using), the remaining tablespoon of olive oil, the cinnamon, and 2 tablespoons of the lemon juice. Pulse until eggplant has broken up, then blend until mostly smooth. Taste; add salt, pepper, and more lemon juice as needed.

Serve cold or at room temperature, with a drizzle of olive oil and maybe a few chopped pistachios on top.

Dates Stuffed with Chevre, Pistachio, and Chive

Having been out of cooking commission for most of fall, I missed the season of fancy party snacks and holiday breakfasts. I spent December gazing at a certain very delicious little face, foregoing the mistletoe and the cocktail parties. Now it's January, and the cinnamon rolls and champagne flutes are fading in the rear view mirror on your way to the gym. 2015, you came quickly.

But I've been making up for lost time, now that the babe and I have hit our stride. We've had scones and omelettes for brunch, wintry mixed drinks at happy hour, and plenty of snacks. I'll spare you the over-the-top breakfasts and the bourbony indulgence -- for now -- but the snacks I've been making these past couple weeks are too good not to share. Think of it as some belated holiday cheer.

These dates snapped back into my repertoire after I received a version of them from a friend, shortly after Adi was born. Jana, an excellent cook (and now a maker of very fancy cakes), slipped some chevre into pitted dates, and topped each date with a slice of pistachio and a pinch of minced chives. I ate one, then shamelessly ate all the others before D could get any. And then, the very next day, I added a TJ's run to our itinerary to pick up dates and chives and chevre and do the whole thing again.

In my scrambled-up version, the chives and chopped pistachios are folded into the chevre, so I could assemble the dates whenever hunger struck. Lazy me snacks straight from the fridge, but if I'm serving them to other people, I bring the dates to room temperature before serving. When I'm feeling fancy, I heat them in a low oven. The heat softens the dates and caramelizes their edges, and of course, no one ever said no to hot, melty cheese.

Maybe you're the lucky type to be hosting or joining a January dinner party, in which case, go you. Bring these along. If not, there's not an ounce of shame in eating them for dinner.

Dates Stuffed with Chevre, Pistachios, and Chives
Makes about 20

1 lb. medjool dates (20-22 dates)
5 oz. chevre or other fresh goat cheese
1 1/2 tablespoons minced chives
3 tablespoons shelled salted pistachios, coarsely chopped
flaky salt and cracked pepper

Use a small paring knife to make a lengthwise slit in each date. Remove pits, and splay dates open.

In a small bowl, combine chevre, chives, and 2 tablespoons of pistachios. Use a fork to mash the cheese, softening it while combining it with the chives and pistachios.

Fill each date with a heaping teaspoon of filling. Sprinkle remaining pistachios over dates, and finish with a sprinkle of salt and a bit of cracked pepper.