Oh, what a sauce this is. What a glorious, glorious sauce. And it comes from our new Jerusalem cookbook, from one of this blog's favorite chefs and current culinary darling, Yotam Ottolenghi. I need not detail that this blog has featured recipes from Ottolenghi here and here and here and here , but I will anyway because, whoo boy, I love these recipes. This sauce comes from the Sephardic Jews, who resided on the Iberian peninsula until the Spanish Inquisition. After their expulsion from Spain in 1492, many Sephardic Jews were folded into the Mizrahi communities in Northern Africa and the Middle East. Such intermingling of people and cultures has produced some culinary superstars; this being no exception. Indeed, you can taste the Spanish, Moroccan, and Libyan influence on this sauce. Sephardim pride themselves on their chraimeh recipes, and often serve them at Rosh Hashanah and Passover celebrations (whereas Ashkenazim might serv...
Adapted from Cookbook #47: Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking (1992) Recipe: Ravioli Stuffed with Parsley and Ricotta in Tomato Sauce with Heavy Cream Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, one of my favorite holidays. Every year the husband and I trundle on over to his parents' (one of three pairs) house for dinner. The crowd has ranged from an intimate eight to an overwhelming twenty. But every year we congregate around 3 p.m., sip wine and snack on some fantastic appetizer, and then gather around a big table and laugh and laugh. Some highlights have included: the best salad ever. A simple pear, goat cheese, and butter lettuce salad with a divine, tangy, peppery dressing. Which was later revealed in some secrecy to be Girard's Champagne Dressing ; the most, umm, interesting and Midwestern salad ever: a pear poached in red hots (yes, red hots , those cinnamon hard candies) served atop iceberg lettuce--let us not speak of this again; a porcini...
Last Wednesday marked the beginning of Lent. Of course, the beginning of the Lenten season signifies the end of carnival. Well, for most Christian people, that is. Not all. Certainly not for those who hail from the Swiss city of Basel. For you see, there, on the Monday after Ash Wednesday, the church bells peel and the Basler Fasnacht begins. Indeed, according to About.com : De drey scheenschte Dääg , "'the three best days' of the year, start at 4 am Monday after Ash Wednesday and continues non-stop, with barely time to sleep, until 4 am on Thursday. The city almost shuts down and parades, confetti and 'Mehlsuppe' rule." Over 20,000 people participate in the festival, and those with elaborate masks and over 200 lanterns drum and piccolo their way through the streets. Usually, the masks and lanterns center on a theme heavy with irony and political satire of the previous year. (This year's theme: " We don't fit in a drawer. ") Unlike...
I got really inspired by the fine work being done by Jessica Merchant over there at How Sweet It Is . Especially when that fine work involves bourbon or, in my case, whiskey. You see, she recently infused bourbon three ways : Apple Pie, Chai Spice, and Chocolate Orange. I made some major changes, swapped out bourbon, and stepped away from the Chocolate Orange. But in the end, I made three wonderful infused whiskeys, and I think you should, too. Holiday season can be your excuse. But we both know you don't really need one, do you? I didn't. We don't get autumn until late in Northern California. Isn't this fabulous? Okay, let me talk you through each one of these gems and then propose some possibilities for next steps. Besides drink them immediately. Let's start with the recipes first, and then let's talk about what to do with them. 1. Decide which one to make. Or... just make all three: Apple Pie Infused Whiskey Ingredients :...
I could move to Seattle. Since moving to California, I have learned the following lesson again and again: I love the water. I love the crash of waves while I walk on the beach with a cup of hot chocolate, the splash of sidewalk puddles (especially when I am wearing my polka-dotted rain boots), the penumbras of light from streetlights in heavy fog, the ping of rain on the roof of my car, the rush of fog over the Berkeley and Oakland hills, the sweep of the Bay as I round the curve on 24 just heading west from the Caldecott Tunnel, and most recently the stillness of the surrounding Delta while hundreds of ducks dip beneath the water's surface for food. However, we just ended the driest January on record here in the Bay Area. As in, literally no rain whatsoever during the wet season: the first time since 1850 that no rain has fallen in January. Yikes. I miss the rain. And I miss the mushrooms that come with the rain. The other day, I had planned to mak...
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