I pull out my grandmother Phyllis’s KitchenAid mixer, a wedding gift from 1943. I never think it’s going to work. It is lighter and squatter than the modern ones, and there’s always a trail of grease dripping down the side.
I cream the butter and sugar on medium speed. My daughter pours in shiny hazelnut butter. We turn the mixer up to full speed and beat the batter until it glides up the sides of the bowl and fills with air. She slowly scrapes down the sides and adds an egg. I add another egg and too much vanilla. We fold in the sifted dry ingredients. Flour flies up and makes me sneeze. Seven times. Like it always does.
I step out onto my back porch with my coffee. Berkeley smells like it’s wearing too much jasmine perfume. A severe drought has brought early blossoms. Mother Nature is confused. The morning light brings my details into relief: the bloody gash on my shin from walking into my son’s bike in the middle of the night, the dog hair on my black dress, the olive oil stains on my leggings.
I say to my herbs, I am getting so fucking old. Again with a smile: I am getting so fucking old. That’s better.
I ask my lemon tree if it’s ready to die. I have forgotten to water, feed, talk to it for over twelve years. It doesn’t produce lemons—it struggles out gnarled bitter green balls.
I rush back into the kitchen—sloshing coffee down my front—to remove the pizza from the oven, line up the lunch tins, peel the carrots.
Come here for a second.
M’s voice has nothing in it. No resentment. No needs. No frustration. No anger.
I walk over and place my hands on his shoulders. He pulls me in, hands cupping my ass.
I say more with my arms, pelvis, sighs.
He says not now, no time by releasing his arms.
I de-lint my daughter’s jacket, tie my son’s shoes, kiss my husband with my stinky coffee breath, and yell them all out the door.
I brush my teeth, put on a bra, and saw down the lemon tree.
RECIPES
TART DOUGH
TARTE TATIN
CRÈME FRAÎCHE
BALSAMIC REDUCTION
JAMMY TOMATO ANCHOVY SAUCE
PESTO
JALAPEÑO QUICK PICKLES
AVOCADO BOWLS WITH GARLIC ANCHOVY VINAIGRETTE
CARAMELIZED ONION TART WITH ANCHOVIES AND OLIVES (PISSALADIÈRE)
BRAISED CHICKEN
SPICY BEEF STEW
LAMB POPSICLES
HAZELNUT BUTTER COOKIES
GRANDMA’S FUDGY ICEBOX BROWNIES
VANILLA BEAN CUSTARD ICE CREAM
STRAWBERRY BALSAMIC TART
COTTAGE CHEESE PANCAKES
TART DOUGH
makes enough for one 8- or 9-inch tart or galette; double the recipe for a pie
I use this recipe for all my sweet and savory pies, tarts, and galettes.
If you have time, make the dough a day ahead so that it can chill in the refrigerator overnight. If you are in a hurry, you can chill it in the freezer for 2 hours before you roll it out.
If there are any kids around, give them the dough scraps. Let them overknead and over-roll and oversmush it into mini tarts. Then they can fill the dough-lined tart molds with honey or berries or chocolate chips.
½ cup water
½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, right out of the fridge
1¼ cups all-purpose flour
¾ teaspoon kosher salt
Put the water in a small pitcher with a handful of ice cubes.
Cut the butter into ½-inch cubes.
In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the flour and salt.
Place half the chilled butter cubes into the flour mixture. With your fingertips, cut the butter into the flour until the mixture resembles coarse cornmeal. Just keep squeezing the chunks of butter between your fingertips, almost like you’re trying to snap with all your fingers at once.
Add the remaining butter and continue using your fingertips to incorporate until the chunks from the second batch of butter are about the size of peas (they’ll be larger than the first round). Add a few tablespoons of the cold water and gently mix it in with a fork. Add another tablespoon of the water, mixing with the fork and jostling the bowl. Add more as needed, 1 tablespoon at a time. It’s ready when there are still some dry pockets but the dough is just starting to gather into about 1-inch globules. It will still be quite loose, so don’t expect it to come together yet into a dough. You will be pressing it into a disc in a moment.
Spread out an 18-inch length of plastic wrap. Empty the contents of the bowl into the middle of the plastic wrap. Fold up the sides of the plastic wrap to press the dough into a round or square disc (depending on the shape of your tart). After about 15 seconds of pressing and molding, it should come together to form a delicate mass. Remember, you aren’t kneading it, just bringing it together. You should still be able to see small pea-size chunks of butter. Wrap tightly and refrigerate overnight or for at least 6 hours or freeze for 2 hours before rolling out.
Before rolling out the dough, let it stand at room temperature until slightly softened, about 20 to 30 minutes depending on the temperature of your kitchen.
TARTE TATIN
serves 6 to 8
For this recipe, you will need a 12-inch ovenproof cast-iron skillet (a 10-inch will work if that’s all you have; just roll the dough out to 12 inches instead of 14 inches). Clean the heck out of it if it has been used for meat or fish. I scrub my skillet with salt and half a lemon and then boil water in it for ten minutes.
Ideally, you want to use apples that will keep their shape when cooked. There are many varieties that will work. I usually use Braeburn, Gala, or Fuji.
You can use homemade (here) or store-bought tart dough, but puff pastry is my favorite. I don’t make my own puff pastry because life is too short. I buy Dufour.
1 (14-ounce) sheet puff pastry
5 to 8 apples (about 3 pounds)
½ cup granulated sugar
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 tablespoon vanilla extract or vanilla bean crush (vanilla extract with seeds, which can be ordered easily online)
2 teaspoons lemon juice
1 teaspoon lemon zest
¼ teaspoon kosher salt
Take the puff pastry out of the freezer and let it thaw enough so that it’s easy to roll out. This can take anywhere from 30 to 60 minutes depending on the temperature of your kitchen.
Preheat the oven to 375°F.
On a lightly floured surface, roll out the puff pastry into a 14-by-14-inch square (about ⅛-inch thick). With a pizza cutter, cut off the corners so you’re left with a circle that’s 14 inches in diameter (save the scraps in the freezer and drape them over some fruit for an easy cobbler). Quickly roll the puff pastry up onto your rolling pin and then roll it out onto a large plate that will fit in the fridge. Refrigerate until you’re ready for assembly.
Slice the tiniest bit off both the stem and blossom ends of each apple (you will waste a tiny bit of apple but it will be so much easier to peel because the peeler will have something to grab on to). Cut each apple in half from north to south. Peel. To core, stand up an apple half with the core side facing you. Using a sharp paring knife, cut at a triangular angle, capturing the stem from top to bottom. Use a melon baller or paring knife to carefully scoop out any remaining core. As you finish coring each apple half, place it cored-side up in your skillet to see how many more you need. Tuck them in nice and tight because they will shrink while cooking. If they aren’t fitting snugly enough, you can cut up an extra apple and tuck in the pieces. Transfer the apples to a plate while you cook the caramel. They will brown a bit, but don’t worry, because soon enough they will be bubbling in the caramel.
Put the sugar and 2 tablespoons of water into your cast-iron pan. Stir with a wooden spoon to make sure it cooks evenly. It will start to bubble. Then it will start to darken in color and even smoke. Be brave with the color. A dark caramel tastes better and looks prettier. If you get nervous that it’s caramelizing too quickly, you
can lower the heat or turn it off completely—the sugar will continue to darken in the hot skillet. Just before the desired color is reached (I like the amber darkness of grade B maple syrup), turn off the heat and stir in the butter. Once the butter has melted, stir in the vanilla, lemon juice and zest, and salt.
Place the apples in the skillet on top of the caramel, cored-sides up. Simmer over low heat. This is a very important step; if you skip it, there will be too much liquid around the apples and when you flip the tarte tatin out of the pan, the hot juices will splash everywhere. Every few minutes, tilt the pan, scoop up some caramel with a heatproof spoon, and drizzle it over the apples. Once the caramel has thickened, turn off the heat. Moving quickly and carefully, place the chilled puff pastry over the apples. It will soften right away from the heat. With the back of a spoon or a dull butter knife, carefully nudge the puff pastry down the interior sides of the pan, sort of like you’re tucking in a shirt. Remember that this will be the bottom of the tarte tatin and what you’re pressing in will become the edge that wraps up a bit around the apples (similar to the crust of a pizza). You want it to look rustic, so don’t try to make it perfect.
Bake for 30 to 35 minutes. It’s done when the puff pastry is brown and firm to the touch and you can see the caramel bubbling up along the edges of the skillet.
Allow the tart to cool in the skillet for about an hour. The caramel will still be hot, so follow these instructions carefully: Run a paring knife around the edge to loosen any crust or apples stuck to the sides. Use oven mitts that cover your wrists. Place a plate that’s at least 2 inches larger than the tarte tatin on top of the pan, then quickly flip it over so the crust is down and the apples are up. If some of the apples stick, use a metal spatula to lift up the stragglers and nestle them back in with the others. Make the apples glisten by using a pastry brush to paint any remaining caramel over the tops of the apples. Serve warm with crème fraîche or vanilla bean ice cream. This tarte is also super tasty served with blue or goat cheese. It doesn’t freeze very well so eat any leftovers for breakfast.
CRÈME FRAÎCHE
I splash this over pasta, stews, avocado toasts, and tacos. I mix it into green goddess dressing and Pesto (here). It is a wonderful replacement for sour cream. I put it in my Cottage Cheese Pancakes (here). It’s a lovely way to cut the sweet intensity of a cake or pie. Once you have it in your life, you will be tempted to use it every single day.
1 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons buttermilk
Pour the heavy cream and the buttermilk into a jar with an available lid. Stir just to mix. Put on the lid. Leave it on the counter. The thickening and souring take anywhere from 1 to 4 days. The hotter your kitchen, the faster it will go. Stir and taste every 12 hours or so. Once it’s to your liking, store it covered in the fridge for up to a month. I make this every two weeks. Every six months or so, a batch doesn’t work. If it smells or tastes like blue cheese, toss it and start over.
BALSAMIC REDUCTION
Buy an inexpensive bottle of balsamic, one that contains at least 8 ounces of vinegar. (You will be reducing it by a little over half, so you want enough to yield at least ½ cup.) Pour the vinegar into a pot. Reserve the bottle. Note the height of the vinegar in the pot.
Open a window. Turn on the fan. Place the pot over high heat until the vinegar boils. Turn the heat down to medium low—just low enough so that the vinegar is simmering. Keep simmering until the vinegar has reduced a bit more than halfway. (It won’t be thickened yet. Don’t worry. It will thicken up as it cools.) How long it takes to reduce depends on how much vinegar you’re reducing and the size of your pot. Every batch is different. Every bottle of vinegar is different.
Once reduced, turn off the heat and let cool to room temperature, about 20 to 30 minutes. Once it’s cooled, if you find that it isn’t quite as drizzle-worthy as you’d like, reduce it for a few more minutes. Using a funnel, pour the cooled vinegar back into the bottle. Store as you would regular vinegar. Use as you would a more special balsamic—for drizzling over salads, tarts, pastas, or open-faced sandwiches.
A few notes of caution: Your kitchen will become a balsamic vinegar steam room. Some people (like me) love the smell. It makes me feel safe. And happy. But it makes my husband feel nauseated. It can also tickle your nose. And your eyes. It made my recipe tester’s cat sneeze!
JAMMY TOMATO ANCHOVY SAUCE
makes about 2½ cups
This is not an ordinary, pour-from-the-jar sauce. This is a far more versatile, concentrated sauce base that I love to use in a zillion applications (see here–here). I cook the tomatoes down for several hours, until they reduce by about half, resulting in a jam-like consistency. This is especially satisfying to make in the middle of winter when good tomatoes are nowhere to be found.
Two 28-ounce cans of diced or crushed tomatoes, preferably San Marzano, with their juices
½ cup red wine
5 oil-packed anchovy fillets
3 cloves garlic, peeled and microplaned
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons balsamic reduction, homemade (here) or storebought aged and thick balsamic
1 tablespoon packed light or dark brown sugar
1 teaspoon lemon zest
2 teaspoons sherry or white wine vinegar
3 sprigs thyme
1 teaspoon salt
A few turns of black pepper
Pinch of Aleppo or red pepper flakes
Place all the ingredients in a large pot. Stir. Bring to a boil. Turn down the heat as low as possible to maintain a very gentle simmer. Cook for 2 to 3 hours, preferably until nearly all the liquid has evaporated and the tomatoes have the consistency of a loose jam or a dense applesauce. Stir every 20 minutes or so to make sure the tomatoes don’t scorch. If the sauce base thickens too quickly or seems to be getting dry, add a bit of olive oil, wine, or water. The longer you let it simmer, the more intense it will taste. Remove the thyme sprigs. Season to taste. Depending on how chunky a texture you like, purée half or all the sauce with a hand blender or in a food processor. Store in the fridge for up to 5 days. Or freeze for up to 6 months.
A few things to do with this jammy goodness:
Dinner for 4
Cook 1 pound of pasta in salted water until al dente. Reserve a large mugful of pasta water. Drain the pasta. Coat the pasta with 1 cup (or more) of Jammy Tomato Anchovy Sauce and as much pasta water as you need to loosen up the sauce and generously coat the noodles (start with ½ mug and keep adding). Put the remaining pasta water in a pitcher on the table. Serve this dish with any of the following toppings: pine nuts, chopped parsley, goat cheese, Parmesan, olive oil, balsamic reduction, bread crumbs, coarse salt, capers, or olives.
Lunch for 1
Grill or toast some bread. Rub a peeled garlic clove all over the warm bread (it will disappear into the bread). Spread the bread generously with warm Jammy Tomato Anchovy Sauce. Top with an egg (poached or fried), a splash of olive oil, lemon zest, and coarse salt.
As a base for a pizza
Spread the sauce over pizza dough and then top with slices of mozzarella and anchovy fillets. The moment you take the pizza out of the oven, top with a generous handful of baby arugula, a few splashes of olive oil, balsamic reduction, and toasted pine nuts.
As a condiment
Use on a sandwich instead of chutney or ketchup.
PESTO
makes about 1½ cups
My pesto isn’t traditional. I sometimes call it California Pesto just to keep the purists off my back. Some thoughts in no particular order:
Since pesto is often an empty-out-the-fridge/freezer endeavor, it’s really important that you taste every component going in. A few rancid nuts can ruin the whole batch.
If you can, toast the nuts right before you make the pesto because they will melt the cheese, and just-made warm pesto is heavenly smeared on toast.
I use any nut I can find. (I always keep mine in my freezer so they don’t go bad so qu
ickly.) A few I love: pistachios, hazelnuts, cashews, blanched almonds, pine nuts, walnuts, and pecans.
Don’t use an herbaceous or floral or bitter olive oil. Stay neutral.
Mix your acids but keep them mellow: white, Champagne, red wine, and sherry wine vinegars are my favorites. Use lemon and lime juice and zest. Stay away from orange juice because it can get funky after a few days. And while I love apple cider, rice wine, and balsamic vinegars for salad dressing, I don’t use them in my pesto.
For umami depth, add some kind of fishy something: anchovies, fish sauce, or colatura di alici. No one will know.
For greens, almost anything goes. Start with several cups of softer greens like parsley, cilantro, chives, basil, arugula, spinach. If you have tarragon or marjoram, use them in small amounts. You can bulk the pesto up with carrot or beet greens but beware of their bitterness; sometimes they are best blanched, shocked, and then squeezed almost dry before adding. The most important thing is to taste ahead of time the greens you are thinking of using.
All cheeses work. Wait. Maybe not blue cheese. But yes to Parmesan, Pecorino Romano, Piave, Asiago, Manchego, creamy or aged goat. Occasionally, I even throw in a few scraps of cheddar or Monterey Jack.
If you have the time, use a mortar and pestle. It’s good exercise. And it can be meditative. Start by making a paste out of the garlic and salt. Then slowly add the herbs. Then the nuts. Then cheese. Then liquefy with the olive oil. The texture and the flavor of this slower method will be different. Most of the time, I throw everything into the food processor and turn it on full throttle. Take care of yourself. It’s good both ways.
Maybe add a knob of butter at the end like Marcella Hazan?
Work with what you have. Add ingredients that you love. Blop it on lamb chops. Mix it with yogurt for a slow-cooked salmon topping. Smear it on crackers. Mix it into farro or mashed potatoes or polenta or brown rice. Put it on pizza before it’s baked or after. Teach your kids how to make it. Below is a template, but I have to admit I have never made it the same way twice.
Everything Is Under Control Page 6
