Galley Girl's Peach Tart

I met my friend Robbie (hi, Rob!) when we spent the year in Israel together on a fellowship. I was 22 at the time, young and impressionable; he was 25, but he seemed so much older and wiser. He'd had jobs, lived in the big city, tasted life. He'd learned the challenges of living independently, the wonders of Greek food in Astoria, the secrets of dried fruit and nuts from Sahadi's. I knew about Barnard, the Upper West Side, and college graduation speakers; Robbie knew everything else.

In Israel, Robbie and I bonded over amazing raw honey at the shuk, which we ate out of the jar by the spoonful without an ounce of shame. We became bonafide experts in hummus, learning the nuances of the different packaged brands and the mind-blowing freshness and flavor of the homemade stuff. We ran through the back streets of Jerusalem, passed long, summer days on the beaches of Tel Aviv and Ashkelon, and became residents of the wonderful neighborhood of Talpiot. It was a good year. It was a special, formative year.

That's the year I realized I was serious about food. After our friend Naomi brought homemade granola on a trip, I started to obsess about what might have been in it, working methodically on my own recipe until it was just perfect. Robbie was good company to explore my new-found hobby. He had endless patience and curiosity for my home cooking. He was basically a vegetarian, primed to appreciate my mostly meatless diet. But perhaps most importantly, Robbie introduced me to Chowhound.

In 2005, Chowhound wasn't the comprehensive food site it is today. It was basically just a food forum, organized geographically, for the eating-obsessed. Robbie couldn't believe I'd never heard of it, and after sinking slowly into its stranglehold, I couldn't, either. Chowhound was amazing. Posters were perpetually fixated on one food item or another, waxing poetic and getting aggressive about where to find the best burger/madeleines/ancho-flavored chocolate/loose-leaf yerba mate/etc. I quickly got hooked.

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Chowhound didn't have a recipe section, but occasionally, individual posters would be inspired to share their favorites. One such poster, Galley Girl, posted a basic recipe for a pear tart she got from her friend Laurie. The tart is more like a cake, really. It's so simple, it looks like 100 cakes you've made before. And, at the same time: it's totally, utterly, unforgettable.

On the boards of Chowhound, this tart is known as "Galley Girl's Pear Tart." Among Hounds, it's famous. Like I said, it's more of a cake than a tart. It's a dead-simple butter batter, and it absolutely MUST be topped with the ripest fruit you can get your hands on. The cake is nothing if the fruit isn't ripe.

It was a pear tart, and indeed, the buttery cake recipe has no better pairing. But in summer, when pears are scarce but peaches are at their prime, you can make it this way with lovely results. Since, as you may recall, I hate peach fuzz, I used nectarines.

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It's been a while since Robbie and I lived in Israel. I've gotten married; he has, too, and he has an adorable baby boy whom I'm determined to meet one of these days. (R&K -- I'm coming to visitl!)  Chowhound also has grown up: it has a shiny new site, all sorts of new features, and many, many more posters. But I'll always be indebted to Galley Girl, to the old school Hounds, and to Robbie, my dear friend, who indulged my obsessive side and helped me realize how much I love food. If I'd known then how good Galley Girl's tart is, I'd have made it for Robbie to thank him.

Galley Girl's Peach TartAdapted from Galley Girl's Pear Tart, originally on Chowhound

This tart is best when baked in an 8" springform. I don't have a pan that size, but following another poster's instructions, I've made 1 1/2 times the recipe in a 9" springform and an 8" square pan. Regardless of which pan and proportions you use, you must watch the thing carefully and make sure not to overbake it.

Ingredients: 3 very ripe, very juicy peaches or nectarines (in winter, use the pears she calls for in the original recipe), peeled (if peaches or pears) and cut into eighths 1 stick butter 3/4 cup sugar 1 teaspoon vanilla 2 eggs 1 cup flour 1 teaspoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon salt

Cream butter, sugar, and vanilla until fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time, mixing until fully combined. In a separate bowl, combine flour, baking powder, and salt. Add to the wet ingredients and mix on low speed or by hand just until combined. Do not overmix.

Grease an 8" springform pan generously with butter. If you only have a 9" springform or an 8" square pan, you need to make 1 1/2 times this recipe so the cake comes out properly.

Spread the cake batter into the pan, smooth with a knife to level the surface, and press sliced fruit into the cake. Press in as many as you can fit; don't be shy. Sprinkle a bit more sugar overtop.

Bake at 350 degrees until a skewer comes out clean. This can take as long as 1 hour, but start checking at 40 minutes; as Galley Girl says, this cake is a whole other thing if you overbake it...and not in a good way.

This cake is delicious the day of, but it's also great the next day. It's a snacking cake, if snacking cakes are your thing. I like to serve it for dessert after big meals. It's a humble, simple cake, but in my opinion, it really can't be beat.  I had a piece right out of the oven, and while it practically burned a hole in my napkin, it was worth every tongue-scorching bite.

Perfect Blueberry Muffins

There were fresh blueberries on the counter, sour cream - which I NEVER have - in the fridge, a brand new sack of flour in the flour jar, and just enough time after the gym and the market to whip up a batch of the most perfect blueberry muffins I've ever made.

Sometimes, the stars align.

When we went berry picking a few weeks ago, I came home loaded up with blueberries. Compared to sour cherries, which had me on a ladder in a tree, and strawberries, which got my knees grubby from all that squatting, blueberries were a cinch to pick. They were so sweet right off the tree, though, that it felt like a sin to do anything but eat them raw. I ate my way through 2 pounds in one week; my breakfast yogurt has never been better.

But some time passed, and finally, I was ready to bake.

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These muffins were just the right place to start. They've got craggy, bumpy tops, but their bottoms are etherial and fluffy, highlighting the blueberries without overpowering them.

It's no surprise these were so perfect: they come from The New Best Recipe, which is America's Test Kitchen's most recent catalogue of their tip-top formulas for everything from tomato soup to apple pie. Lately, TNBR has been pushed and shoved to the back of my cookbook shelf, bested by Plenty and Good to the Grain and Super Natural Every Day. It's hard to get excited about such a classic collection of recipes when I can make Heidi's yogurt biscuits and Yotam's garlic tart. But when you need to make straight-up blueberry muffins, there really is no better place to turn.

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A word of warning about muffins so light and fluffy: it's easy -- dangerously easy -- to eat many of them. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Perfect Blueberry MuffinsAdapted, just barely, from The New Best Recipe

A note about greasing the pan: if you find yourself in the (in my case, likely) situation of not having muffin liners, grease that pan like it's your job. I was stingy with the butter, and as you can see above, I had to wrangle my muffins out of the tin as a result. Generosity of butter/cooking spray will be rewarded.

10 ounces (2 cups) unbleached flour 1 tablespoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon salt 1 egg 7 ounces (1 cup) sugar 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled 10 ounces sour cream (or substitute yogurt) 1 1/2 cups fresh or frozen blueberries

Preheat oven to 350. Line muffin tin with paper liners or grease with either butter or nonstick spray.

Whisk flour, baking powder, and salt in a medium bowl. Whisk the egg in a second medium bowl until uniformly pale colored, about 20 seconds. Add the sugar and whisk vigorously until thick and homogeneous, about 30 seconds; add the melted butter in 2 or 3 additions, whisking to combine after each addition. Add the sour cream in 2 additions, whisking just to combine.

Add the berries to the dry ingredients and gently toss just to combine. Add the sour cream mixture and fold with a rubber spatula until the batter comes together and the berries are evenly distributed, 25 to 30 seconds.

Divide batter among greased/lined muffin cups. Bake until light golden brown and a toothpick inserted into the center of a muffin comes out clean, 25 to 30 minutes, rotating the pan front to back halfway through the baking time. Invert onto a wire rack and cool 5 minutes.

Fried Eggs and Greens

Spring sprang early in Washington. The weather is still bouncing from windy to warm to steamy to shivering and back again, but the days are longer, the sun shines most every day, and this week, we've already had a couple days north of 80 degrees. I'm told spring vegetables are nearly ready to pick. The guys at Toigo Orchards told me the asparagus are about 4 inches long. Prepare yourselves: if historytells us anything, it's I may have trouble posting about much else. Still, I'm pretty excited that the market has things other than beets and kale.

Ramps hit the market a couple weeks ago, and while I've decided perhaps they're unworthy of cultish obsession, I did buy a couple bunches. Now that Passover's over, I'll bake up a batch of these cheesy scones with ramps, which I made and loved last year. Last week, I blitzed them into this ramp pesto, which accompanied us faithfully into last summer. And now that we've got a deck (more on that in a moment), I'm picturing grilled whole fish, shmeared with the stuff, finished with lemon. It doesn't get much better that that.

So....we have a deck. As of last weekend, that deck has an L-shaped couch perfect for cozying up with a book; an actual dining table with room for 6 or 8, the better to share the sun and fun with loved ones; and three big planters, in which I'll just planted thyme, dill, basil, cilantro, parsley, mint, and carrots. We spent this weekend outside, on the deck and in the park. We've started looking at grills, and while I haven't quite made up my mind in the ages-old charcoal-vs.-gas debate, I've got my eye on an inexpensive smoker to accompany whichever grill we do end up buying. We're so close to homemade bbq, I can taste it.

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For now, we're eating outside but cooking in. Sunday morning, a quick trip to the market turned up beautiful mixed stir-fry greens. By 10 am, it was already 75 and sunny out. I cooked up a pile of greens as a bed for fried eggs, and we ate them atop fresh, toasted slices of struan bread. Perfect sunday brunch, it was just the thing to break in our deck. But I know we'll be having them again soon, as a light dinner or a weekend lunch. You should, too.

Fried Eggs and Greens Serves 1-2, but easily doubled

This recipe is dead simple, so quality ingredients make all the difference. I used Keswick Creamery feta, which is creamy and tangy. If your feta is more subdued, you might squeeze a small slice of lemon over the eggs before serving.

2 pieces sausage or bacon, diced (I used Morningstar Farms bacon, but I think sausage would be amazing here) 5 oz. greens - spinach, chard, and blends all work 1 tablespoon olive oil (probably less if using real bacon) 2 fresh eggs, preferably organic About 1 ounce feta Salt and pepper Pinch smoked paprika Wedge of lemon, optional Two thick slices of your favorite bread

Set a medium sauté pan over medium heat. If using fake bacon, pour half the olive oil in the pan. Fry bacon until it begins to crisp (and, if it's real, renders its fat). Add the other half olive oil if using, and then add the greens. Toss to coat all of them with the fat, then cook an additional minute or two, until they begin to wilt. Season with salt and pepper to taste. (You need to taste as you season; bacon is salty, and you don't want to over-salt the greens.)

Spread the greens so they form two little beds, and crack each of the eggs into its own little bed. Cover the pan (tin foil or a big, heavy pan both work if your pan doesn't have a cover, which mine doesn't), and cook another 2-3 minutes, checking every minute or so, until the whites are just set and the yolk is still quivering. Err on the side of checking frequently and cooking quickly; you really don't want to overcook the eggs. That said, the greens do serve as a barrier, preventing the bottom of the yolk from getting too stiff.

While the eggs cook, toast the bread and get out one or two plates for serving.

When eggs a done cooking, turn off the heat. Sprinkle feta over eggs, and perhaps just the tiniest bit of maldon salt (not a lot! Feta is salty.) Finish with the smoked paprika and freshly cracked pepper, as well as a squeeze of lemon, if you'd like.

Serve bread slices, topped with greens, then the sunny-side up eggs. And maybe hot coffee. Sigh.

Buckwheat Kumquat Muffins or Loaf

Every so often, I take a trip to New York for no reason whatsoever. Without a wedding or baby naming or conference to attend, I'm free to roam the streets of my former home off the clock, and with no particular destination in mind. I wake up early, lace up the sneaks, and head downtown in search of the cravable. I've got Sam Sifton's app loaded on my iPhone, a couple Chowhound threads open in safari, and an appetite. On days like these, I've discovered Joe the Art of Coffee, Doughnut Plant, Thelewala, Ippudo, and more.

It happens less and less, as schedules have grown busier and there's nary a day with nothing to do. But the last time it did, which was over a year ago, I ate my way through the Bowery. Only this time, I was so single-minded about a particular destination that I basically skipped the exploring and made a B-line for Peels, the beautiful bakery where Shuna Fish Lydon works her magic. And I mean magic.

I've been following Shuna's blog, Eggbeater, for a long time. Many of her recipes are beloved in my kitchen - especially her leeks (aren't they beautiful?). She's doing amazing work at Peels; if you haven't been, go. And when you do go, get the house muffin: a combination of buckwheat, lemon marmalade, and rosemary, it's the inspiration for the recipe I'm sharing with you today, and it's unforgettable.

I'll come at you honestly, with a bit of a confession: I couldn't get either the loaf or the muffins to be as weightless and fluffy as Shuna's house muffins are. I really don't know how she does it. And people, I've tried to find out, I have. I tweeted with her about it a while back. She suggested I write Bon Appetit and ask them to get the recipe, which I did to no avail. Still, it isn't all bad news today. Left to my own devices, I poked around online and experimented quite a bit, and I think I've found a buckwheat cake recipe that's pretty delicious in its own rite. The template comes from the lovely Glutton For Life, whom I encountered via (yet again...) Food52. Her name is Laura Chavez Silverman, and among her recipes are many, many winners. She tried to recreate Shuna's Peels muffins, and her recipe looked promising, so I used it as a template for my own experiments.

Two choices when making this recipe. Muffins: breakfast, party food. Or, a loaf: great in the lunch bag, sliced for tea, whatever. Cooking times are different, but that's it. Perhaps the best thing about the final product? It's blue. Legit blue. Good buckwheat is tinted a beautiful shade of blue, which I definitely thought would fade as the stuff bakes. But nope. This just shows there is such a thing as (non-blueberry) blue food after all.

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To contrast with the blue, I chose orange. Specifically, I employed kumquats in two forms: a quick marmalade, and sliced raw. You get the amazing aromatic kumquat essence from the marmalade, and the tang and freshness from the raw slices. I think it's a winner - but hopefully, you'll make it and let me know what you think.

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Buckwheat Kumquat Muffins or LoafAdapted from Glutton for Life and Garrett McCord, via Epicurious

For the quick kumquat marmalade: 1/3 cup sliced kumquats 1/4 cup water 3 tablespoons sugar

For the cake: 3/4 cup unbleached all-purpose flour 3/4 cup buckwheat flour 1 teaspoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon baking soda 1/2 teaspoon salt 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger 1/4 cup thinly sliced kumquats 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons greek yogurt 1 egg Kumquat marmalade (recipe above) 1 teaspoon vanilla 4 tablespoons butter

First, make the marmalade: place kumquats, water, and sugar in a small saucepan and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer for 15-20 minutes or until the liquid has reduced and thickened (it will thicken more as it cools). Set aside.

Next, brown the butter: In another small saucepan (or the same one, but rinsed), melt butter over medium heat. It will foam, then the foam will subside. Then you'll start to smell the nutty notes. Pay close attention - nothing burns faster than butter browning unattended. As soon as the milk solids (the little bits in the bottom of the pan) are deep brown and the butter is toasty colored, remove from the heat. Set aside to cool.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Lightly grease or line with parchment paper either a loaf pan or a muffin tin.

Now, make the cake or muffins: In a medium bowl, combine flour, buckwheat, baking powder, baking soda, salt, ginger, and sliced kumquats. In a separate bowl, combine yogurt, egg, all but 1 tablespoon of the marmalade, and the vanilla. Stir the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients, then add the butter and fold into the cake batter.

Scoop the batter into the greased or lined pan or tins. Use a brush to brush the top of the loaf or muffins with the remaining marmalade. Bake loaf for 45 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean. Bake muffins for 20-25 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean.

The cake/muffins are best the day they're made, preferably warm. Still, muffins or cake slices are also quite good toasted, and they'll keep about a week at room temp. If you're worried about them, just stick them in the fridge.