Gardening in California is ridiculous. One moment the jalapeños and habaneros were seeds, the next moment we were giving away a dozen peppers at a time to anyone willing to take them.
Several jalapeños turned red before we could harvest them. And they were hotter than hell in an experimental Greek yogurt dip. The green ones tended toward bell pepper mild with occasional surprises.
Our rapidly proliferating peppers required a big-batch recipe.
Read MoreMy cooking mojo felt off for a while. Then I realized it wasn’t a dearth of inspiration or motivation or interesting ingredients, but stress from major issues with our house. Moving proved wrenching yet necessary.
As we unpacked and relied on takeout from various specialty eateries in the new neighborhood, a return to culinary adventures started to seem realistic. Just in time for the holidays, too.
Read MoreBasic bread. That’s all I wanted to make. Nothing crazy. Not baguettes or sourdough or ciabatta or bagels, although that makes more sense, knowing me. Just a crusty bread at altitude. But successfully producing something so simple proved elusive. Pun intended.
Several years ago I made the unwise decision to attempt a first-ever loaf of homemade bread after a full day of holiday baking. I pictured the heavenly, crusty boule of Kalamata olive bread that my friend Laurel’s neighbors made to share with us, back when she lived in Corvallis, Oregon.
What I wrought in Boulder was closer to hell.
Read MoreOn a winter hiking trip in high school, I struggled to ascend the steep trail, sweaty and red-faced with an overstuffed pack. An older student saw me falter. She positioned herself directly in front of me and set a slow, methodical pace. Step, breathe, step, breathe.
With everything happening now, that old impatience is resurfacing. I want us, as a people, to get there already — the virus vanquished, systemic racism and bigotry excised, good defeating evil, the environment restored. Our packs are so full.
I realize that this might feel a bit heavy for a fun little food blog. *Takes a deep breath.*
You know what else is heavy? Pastitio.
Read MoreThe tower of eggplant slices rose ridiculously high. I’d miscalculated the time required to make three full pans of moussaka — two with beef and one vegan — and was rushing around my narrow kitchen in Queens.
Marie, visiting from France, made her miraculous chocolate mousse and tried to keep me calm as I worked on the béchamel and roasted eggplant discs like a madwoman. We prepared enough salad for an army. My Big Fat Greek Dinner Party of early 2009 was living up to its name.
Although everyone seemed to have a fun time and enjoy the food, the one thing that still irked me years later was the vegan moussaka.
Read More“Look! Medjool dates!”
I was way more excited about this Manhattan discovery than my good friend Gina. She just chuckled. This was eons ago at the Whole Foods near Columbus Circle, and I remember eagerly forking over my hard-earned money for the plastic lidded container.
Maybe I ate one or two dates as a snack, but the rest went into Yiayia’s date pinwheel cookie recipe. My family isn’t sure where she originally picked it up since the recipe was so different from her Greek pastry repertoire. Wherever she found the inspiration, the smell of these cookies baking always brings me right back to her warm, sunny apartment.
Read MoreDuring my first spring living in Colorado, I opened a box that my dad had overnighted from Vermont. After opening the flaps, I breathed in the most glorious smell of fresh Greek bread. Dad sent me two of the precious loaves he’d made.
Our family’s recipe for Greek bread makes four loaves or one large braided vasilopita — a special New Year’s version covered in powdered sugar that hides a lucky coin. When my mom typed it up ages ago, the recipe spanned multiple pages. Since then, more notations emerged.
I’d never attempted it. This holiday season, however, I asked Dad to teach me how. This lesson would be his present to me. So, on my birthday, we got to work.
Read MoreWe couldn’t find the Japanese eggplant. I don’t know if Pacific Ocean Market was out or if they weren’t in season, but we’d driven too far to this store to come away empty-handed.
Reading Kenji’s summer vegetable lasagna recipe made me want to prepare it straight away, and he specifically called for Japanese eggplant. Guillaume, who’s not the biggest eggplant fan to start, pointed to a package of round dark purple softball-sized vegetables labeled Indian eggplant. “How about these?” he suggested.
It was the discovery that changed everything.
Read More“What is the difference between British scones and American buttermilk biscuits?” We must have asked this question at least half a dozen times in the past couple weeks. Eggs? Butter? Amount of flour? Folding? Shape? Rising agents?
Ultimately the answer didn’t matter as we gobbled Guillaume’s high-altitude buttermilk biscuits shaped like mini scones and my assortment of tiny crustless tea sandwiches. Our spread included Marcona almonds, a bowl of fresh strawberries, fresh blueberries, and Pim’s orange cookies.
We’d waited long enough. Not just to eat, but to see Meghan and Harry get married. Although the latter was really just an excuse to make all this food.
Read MoreMom sent me on a mission as a kid. I was to watch Yiayia as she made spanakopita and find out how she did it. I’d like to say that I took detailed notes that afternoon and the experience launched my journalism career. That was not the case.
Yiayia worked deftly. The whole thing was a blur.
Read More