In a medium bowl, toss together the onion, mushrooms, thyme, pepper flakes, nutmeg, and salt and pepper with the remaining oil.
With our split—personality pizza (sausage and ricotta for the girls; arugula, ricotta, and lemon for Mom and Dad), everyone goes home happy.
Top the dough with mozzarella slices so it covers as much of the crust as possible. Top with the onion-mushroom mixture, brushing any exposed dough (specifically the edges) with extra oil. Bake for 12 to 15 minutes, until the cheese is bubbly and golden. If the crust is browning faster than the toppings are cooking, cover with foil and continue to bake.
Add the Parmesan cheese and a little fresh parsley (if using) when serving.
Pizza 3: Salad Pizza
This was inspired by the salad pizza I grew up gorging on at Sal’s Pizzeria in Mamaroneck, New York. The girls love it, too—good thing or I’d have to start wondering if they were related to me. Total time: 30 minutes
Olive oil, for greasing
1 16-ounce ball homemade pizza dough or your favorite store-bought variety
1½ cups Pizza Sauce or your favorite store-bought variety
½ cup olive oil
¼ cup red wine vinegar
3 shakes dried oregano
Salt and pepper to taste
1 small head Boston or Bibb lettuce, shredded or chopped
1 cup cherry or grape tomatoes, halved
2 tablespoons finely minced red onion
½ cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
Preheat the oven to 500°F.
Using your fingers or a pastry brush, grease a 17 x 12-inch rimmed baking sheet with the oil. Drop your pizza dough into the center of the baking sheet, and using your fingers, press out and flatten the dough so it spreads as close as possible to all four corners. This might seem difficult, but persist—the thin crust will be worth it.
Bake the crust for 8 minutes. Remove from the oven, add the sauce, and brush the exposed perimeter with olive oil. Bake for another 5 minutes, until the crust is golden and sauce is warm.
While the crust is baking, make your salad. In a large bowl, whisk together the oil, vinegar, oregano, salt, and pepper. Add the lettuce, tomatoes, onion, and Parmesan cheese, and toss.
When the pizza crust is finished baking, let cool slightly and top with the salad. (To prevent a soggy crust and oily fingers, make sure excess salad dressing does not spill onto pizza.) Serve with a lot of napkins. It gets messy.
Pizza 4: Zucchini and Feta Pizza
If you don’t have feta, ricotta will work, too. Just don’t mix it into the zucchini. Add it in small dollops on top before baking. Total time: 40 minutes
Olive oil, for greasing
1 16-ounce ball homemade pizza dough or your favorite store-bought variety
2 medium zucchini, shredded (about 2 cups)
½ cup olive oil
1 cup crumbled feta
Zest from ½ lemon
Freshly ground black pepper
1 8-ounce ball fresh mozzarella, thinly sliced
Handful chopped fresh mint
Preheat the oven to 500°F.
Using your fingers or a pastry brush, grease a 17 x 12-inch rimmed baking sheet with the oil. Drop your pizza dough into the center of the baking sheet, and using your fingers, press out and flatten the dough so it spreads as close as possible to all four corners. This might seem difficult, but persist—the thin crust will be worth it.
In a large bowl, toss the zucchini with the oil, feta, lemon zest, and pepper. Distribute the mozzarella on the crust evenly and then top with the zucchini and feta mixture. Bake for 15 minutes, until the crust looks crispy and golden and the cheese is bubbly.
If the crust is browning faster than the toppings are cooking, cover with foil and continue to bake.
Remove from the oven, sprinkle on the mint, and serve.
Pizza 5: White Pizza with Arugula, Parmesan, Lemon, and Ricotta
This is best when you can find market-fresh, peppery arugula. Total time: 35 minutes
Olive oil, for greasing and brushing
1 16-ounce ball homemade pizza dough or your favorite store-bought variety
1 8-ounce ball fresh mozzarella, thinly sliced
Few handfuls of arugula
½ cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1/3 cup olive oil
Juice from ½ lemon (about 2 tablespoons)
Salt and pepper to taste
12 dollops of fresh ricotta
Fresh oregano (optional)
Preheat the oven to 500°F. Using your fingers or a pastry brush, grease a 17 x 12- inch rimmed baking sheet with the oil. Drop your pizza dough into the center of the baking sheet, and using your fingers, press out and flatten the dough so it spreads as close as possible to all four corners. This might seem difficult, but persist—the thin crust will be worth it.
Cover the dough with mozzarella and brush exposed edge of the crust with a little oil. Bake for 15 minutes, until the crust is crispy and the cheese is bubbly. (If the cheese starts to bubble before the crust looks done, cover the center of pizza with foil.)
While the pizza bakes, toss together the arugula, Parmesan cheese, olive oil, lemon juice, and salt and pepper. When the pizza crust is ready, let it cool for about 2 minutes and then top with the salad. Add the ricotta and finish with a few grinds of pepper and oregano (if using).
Pizza 6: Pan-fried Hawaiian Pizza
The pan-fried pizza move comes in handy during the summer when you don’t want to turn the oven to 500°F. Total time: 20 minutes Makes 2 pizzas
Olive oil, for frying and brushing
4 ounces ham or prosciutto, chopped
1 16-ounce ball homemade pizza dough or your favorite store-bought variety, split into 2 8-ounce balls
1 cup Pizza Sauce or your favorite store-bought variety
1 8-ounce ball fresh mozzarella, thinly sliced
1½ cups pineapple cubes
4 or 5 fresh basil leaves, shredded
Preheat the broiler.
Add a little oil to a medium cast-iron pan and fry the ham over medium-low heat until it’s a little brown and crispy, about 3 minutes. Set aside.
Roll each pizza dough half into circles the size of your cast-iron pan. The dough will probably be slightly thicker than what you’re used to.
Heat the pan to medium and add about 1 tablespoon of olive oil. Add 1 piece of the rolled-out dough. Cook for 2 to 3 minutes, until the dough is bubbly on top and browned underneath. Flip, add half of the sauce, half of the mozzarella, half of the ham, and half of the pineapple. Cook another 2 minutes, until the bottom is cooked, then slip under the broiler for 2 to 3 minutes, until the cheese looks bubbly and the pineapple is slightly caramelized. Top with basil. Remove the pizza from the pan, and repeat with the other piece of dough.
June 2011
Running Late
JR: Got stuck on phone with M. Can you start dinner?
AW: Yup. What do we have?
JR: Chicken thighs should be in fridge thawing . . .
AW: With braised leeks?
JR: Inspired! Start in skillet, add broth, finish in oven?
AW: With a touch of cream.
JR: Wow! We’re cooking with cream now?
AW: Good cholesterol check this morning.
JR: Got it. Can we whisk with a little Dijon?
AW: Can’t go wrong with that, my brother.
Pan-roasted Chicken Thighs with Braised Leeks
As with all browning, to get a nice sear on the chicken, it’s helpful to start with room-temperature meat. Total time: 30 minutes
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 garlic clove, halved
1 pound boneless or bone-in chicken thighs, salted and peppered
3 large leeks, well rinsed, trimmed, and cut into 2-inch-long pieces
¾ cup chicken broth
¼ cup cream
1 heaping tablespoon Dijon mustard
Seven—Ingredient Dinner: Magic words to working parents.<
br />
Preheat the oven to 375°F.
Heat a large ovenproof skillet over medium heat and add 2 tablespoons of the oil. Swirl the garlic in the oil for about 1 minute (do not let it burn) and discard.
Turn up the heat to medium-high. Add the chicken thighs and brown on both sides, about 4 minutes total. Remove the chicken with a slotted spoon. Add the remaining oil and leeks. Cook until the leeks have slightly softened, 2 minutes. Mix the chicken back with the leeks and add the broth. Bring to a boil, then transfer to the oven.
Bake for 10 minutes. While the chicken is baking, whisk together the cream and mustard. During the last 2 minutes of cooking, add the creamy mustard to the leeks and stir until combined. Serve with rice.
Fall 2011
Love Is Homemade Stock
When Andy and I were first dating we’d do this thing when we’d say good-bye. We’d start walking in opposite directions and turn back to look at each other as we got farther and farther away. We’d keep craning our necks for as long as we could—until the other person was too blurry in the distance or until a pack of drunk thick-necked frat boys interrupted our line of vision. (Do I need to remind you that we met in college?) Every time we would do this—and for several years after, when we would part from a corner on Second Avenue and West Fifty-seventh Street to our separate offices in New York City—I’d get a young-and-in-love endorphin rush.
Is it a sad state of affairs or a happy one when two kids, one Boston terrier, and nearly twenty years later, I still get this same exact brand of rush today but for totally different reasons? Like the time when Andy came home from a solo shopping trip and unpacked the ketchup—even though I was the one to squeeze the bottle dry and hadn’t even reminded him that we needed to replenish. Or the time he gave me a Wüsthof paring knife (my first quality piece of cooking equipment) as a congratulatory gift for taking the GMAT. (Perhaps this was his tactful way of telling me that my short-lived plan to go to business school was so not me.) Or the many times I’d overhear him playing the part of Swiper at six in the morning, locked into an intense game of Dora Dollhouse with Abby, as I’d sleep in down the hall. (If it were me on morning duty, we’d play Dora the old-fashioned way: by turning on Nick Jr.) But mostly I’m thinking about the half-dozen instances when I’ve come downstairs after kissing the girls good night only to discover the carcass of the roast chicken we just ate for dinner submerged and simmering away in our 5½-quart Le Creuset Dutch oven. This meant that Andy was making me homemade stock. It meant that while I went about my after-kids-go-to-bed routine (which usually included any combination of Jon Stewart, Tina Fey, or my Friday Night Lights heroes Coach and Tami Taylor) that a big batch of stock was just getting tastier and richer and more delicious and, with a stash of it in the freezer, that all kinds of dinner possibilities (Bugialli’s signature minestone!) would be presenting themselves in the next few weeks. I think the first time Andy surprised me with this, my heart actually fluttered.
Because for a working mother of two, having a stash of makes-anything-special homemade stock in the freezer was and is just about the most romantic thing I could imagine. Yes, of course I could use the Tetra Pack organic broths that are readily available in every supermarket and more than decent in flavor and quality. But that’s the point. So could everyone else in the world with $3.89 to spare. No one really needs homemade stock. Homemade stock is a luxury most people cannot afford. Not in the material sense but in terms of time. Who has the time and energy to add one more task to the to-do list after the cooking, the feeding, the math-homework “helping,” the eat-your-broccoli-ing, the cleaning, the dishwashing, the backpack unpacking, the lunch packing, the bathing, the bedtime storying, the back tickling, the please-just-one-more-kiss-good-nighting?
Somehow the guy I married did. (How on earth did that happen?) More important than the fact that using homemade stock instead of the store-bought kind made soups and stews taste a zillion times better, he knew that it made me happy. It’s not like I’ve been married for as long as our parents have been married, and it’s not like I’m an expert just because I’ve written a bunch of words inside two covers, but for the life of me, I’m not sure I can think of a better definition of love.
Homemade Chicken Stock: Whatever’s in the vegetable bin . . . throw it in the pot!
Roast Chicken
Before you have your chicken stock, you have to have your chicken. My Dinner Doula client Lori says you can’t call yourself an official mother until you know how to roast a chicken, which, of course, is ridiculous. I find a whole roast chicken satisfying in my house for a different reason: It has two drumsticks and I have two kids. No fighting! Total time: 1 hour 40 minutes
6 potatoes (Yukon Gold or red), cut into chunks
1 small onion, chopped into chunks
3 medium carrots, peeled and cut into chunks
1 tablespoon olive oil
Salt and pepper
1 whole roasting chicken, about 4 pounds
1 lemon, pricked several times with a knife
1 small bunch fresh thyme
2 tablespoons butter, melted
Preheat the oven to 425°F.
Arrange the potatoes, onion, and carrots in a baking dish. Toss with the oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Place in oven and roast for 15 minutes.
Meanwhile, rinse the inside and outside of chicken under cold water and pat dry. Stuff the cavity with lemon and thyme and tie the legs together with butcher’s twine.
After the carrots and potatoes have roasted for 15 minutes, place the chicken, breast side up (see tip), on top of the vegetables. Brush the chicken skin with butter and season with salt and pepper. Continue roasting until the chicken is a golden brown and the juices run clear when the thigh is pierced with a fork, about 1 hour and 15 minutes, or 18 to 20 minutes per pound. Remove the chicken from the oven, carve, and serve with the vegetables.
Tip: I finally heard an easy way to figure out which way is breast side up. You want your chicken to look like “a desperate woman.” Since this is, in theory, a family cookbook, I’ll leave it to you to figure out what that means.
Andy’s Homemade Chicken Stock
Eventually, you’re going to strain this whole thing, so don’t worry about the size of whatever you are throwing into the pot. Total time: 2 to 5 hours
To a large stockpot, add the following ingredients in no particular order or quantities: everything salvaged from your whole roast chicken (bones, skin, meat, everything); 1 large onion (you don’t even have to peel it, but make sure you at least halve it); a little Parmesan rind (I always freeze the heels of my wedges for this purpose); a handful of celery stalks and carrots (the baby variety or the real sticks); herbs (parsley, sage, rosemary, thyme); and any other vegetable you might otherwise chuck into the garbage within a few hours anyway: Peppers? Zucchini? Scallions? Parsnips? Green beans? In they go.
Cover with water and bring to a boil. Then reduce the heat to a simmer and keep on the stovetop for at least 2 hours and up to 4 or 5. Add more water if it reduces too much. Remove from the heat and allow to cool a little.
Pour the broth through a strainer into a large bowl. (The pot is probably heavy, so be very careful when you do this.) Let cool some more, then freeze 2- to 3-cup portions in freezer storage bags, unless you know you will be using the stock within a few days. Remember to flatten bags before freezing to make for easy thawing.
To thaw, run the bags of frozen broth under warm water in the sink for 2 to 3 minutes.
Chicken Soup with Orzo
My favorite chicken noodle soups are the ones that aren’t overly brothy. The shredded chicken and orzo in this one makes it taste almost like chicken and dumplings. I freeze in single-serving batches and have for weekend lunches or quick-thaw dinners. Total time: 1 hour 30 minutes
1 large onion, chopped
3 carrots, peeled and chopped
3 stalks celery, chopped
Salt and pepper to taste
2 tablespoons olive oil, p
lus more for serving
½ cup white wine
6 cups homemade chicken stock or store-bought chicken broth, plus up to 2 cups more as needed
1½ pounds boneless or bone-in chicken breasts, rinsed, patted dry, and cut into 4-inch chunks
Parmesan cheese rind (optional)
1½ cups orzo
¼ cup loosely packed chopped fresh parsley, for serving
Parmesan cheese, for serving
In a large stockpot over medium-low heat, sauté the onion, carrots, celery, salt, and pepper in the oil for 10 to 12 minutes.
Add the wine and turn up the heat to high; until the liquid has completely reduced. Add the stock and bring to a boil.
Add the chicken and Parmesan rind (if using) and bring the soup to a boil. Add more stock, if necessary, to make sure the chicken is fully immersed. Reduce the heat to low and simmer for 30 minutes.
After the chicken has thoroughly cooked through, using two forks, shred the cubes of chicken while it’s in the pot. Just before serving, bring the soup back up to a boil and season with salt. Add the orzo and cook for another 7 minutes, until it is al dente. If the soup gets too thick from the pasta starch, add up to 2 more cups of stock until it reaches the desired consistency. Remove the rind and serve with parsley, pepper, oil, Parmesan cheese, and big hunks of crusty bread or Ritz crackers.
Tomato and White Bean Soup
I came up with this recipe on a snow day when school was canceled and the roads were impassable, and I had no choice but to put away my work to concoct some hearty, warm-your-bones meals. That day I had no excuse not to soak dry beans for six hours, but when I use canned cannellinis, it seamlessly transforms into a quick weeknight go-to. It’s also delicious with chopped shrimp mixed in. Total time: 30 minutes
Dinner: A Love Story Page 22
