iMac-and-Cheese

Most kids grew up eating Kraft macaroni and cheese and I suppose I had my share.  But my real comfort came from the loving hands of my beautiful Hungarian mother, Marion, who made me cabbage and noodles, instead. Just yesterday, I was given, and then duly paid for, a book by my 8-year old neighbor, Diego.  He wrote FOOD: It's Good Stuff, with a bunch of friends.  It's chock-a-block with illustrations and recipes galore.  One of my favorites -- shark's fin soup -- begins with a whale.  Not everyone has thought of that!  The book is $6.50 ($7.50) if you live in Canada and I'm sure I could get you a copy.  Complete with recipes for ice cream sundaes, "hide-and-seek," and "the crunch of a salad," it is witty and fun.  And, it's a bestselling book!  It says so right on the cover. Yet despite a reference to Steve Jobs and the new iMac with a 3D camera, there is no recipe for mac-and-cheese.  So, here are two complimentary entries (or entrees!) for their next edition.  One of the most radically simple recipes ever created is adapted from my book called Kids Cook 1-2-3.  The second version, comes from Eat Fresh Food: Awesome Recipes for Teen Chefs (both published by Bloomsbury) -- will be available on this site tomorrow.   Dedicated to Diego, today's recipe is now called iMac-and-Cheese.  I hope he enjoys it.

iMac-and-Cheese Due to a surfeit of American cheese in my fridge, I invented this version of everyone's favorite recipe.  You can use familiar elbow macaroni or the less familiar shape called campanelle ("little bells").  If you want this even cheesier, just melt a few more slices of cheese!  If you're a daring kind of kid, you can top it with freshly chopped chives.

4 ounces elbow macaroni 4 ounces American cheese, about 7 slices 1 tablespoon unsalted butter

Bring a large saucepan of salted water to a boil.  Add the pasta and cook for about 10 minutes, until just tender.  Meanwhile, put 1/4 cup water and the cheese in a medium size saucepan.  Bring just to a boil.  Immediately lower the heat to medium and stir with a wooden spoon until the cheese melts, about 3  minutes.  Add the butter and continue to stir for 1 minute, or until you have a smooth sauce.  Put a colander in the sink and drain the pasta.  Return the pasta to the large saucepan and stir into the cheese mixture.  Add salt and pepper to taste.  Stir gently while reheating the pasta.  Serves 2 or 3

Fab Time at Whole Foods

Last night I taught a cooking class at Whole Foods on the Bowery -- the home of a wonderfully compact, but ample, Culinary Center -- equipped with most anything a cook could want (more about that later) and two amazing assistants, Wai Chu and Min Liao.  Wai is an accomplished chef who wrote the definitive book on Asian dumplings, and Min, too, knows her way around a kitchen better than most.  I don't teach often -- after 12 books -- and many such lessons, I choose one venue when a new book comes out.  This time the class was based on Radically Simple: Brilliant Flavors with Breathtaking Ease -- the goal was to demonstrate how restaurant-quality food could be made simply at home -- and in 140 words or fewer!   But as such experiences go, I made a 6-course dinner for a sold-out crowd -- 25 in all, including the lovely person from "Mobile Libris" who came to sell books. I arrived at Whole Foods at 3:45 p.m. and got home at 9:45 p.m.

The menu?  First we played a guessing game.  I made two recipes that I challenged the students to describe.  One was my za'atar pesto into which lavash chips and grape tomatoes were dipped.  One woman guessed (almost).  The second was an intriguing soup based on tomato-vegetable juice with an ample amount of anisette and a soupçon of Thai fish sauce.  It was topped with lightly salted whipped cream and snippets of fresh tarragon.  Everyone loved it and were delighted to learn it can be made in five minutes.  Dinner followed from there:  Chilled Beet Soup with Crème fraiche and Lemon Zest, Tiradito (Peruvian-style sashimi) with a whole lemon-garlic dressing, Scallops on Sweet Pea Puree (with a brown butter-dry vermouth reduction), Salmon with Lime Leaves on Poppy Rice (with coconut-sake sauce and curry oil), Chicken "ras el hanout" with tomato- ginger chutney, and my "little black dress" flourless chocolate cake -- made in five minutes (and only 18 minutes to bake.)   Yep, and it was all radically simple to do.

However, missing items that evening were a standard size food processor and...regular olive oil.  It seems as though Whole Foods carries only extra-virgin olive oil. Curious, I thought, but it is simply not correct to use extra virgin olive oil for everything.  In some recipes, I had to dilute the extra virgin stuff with canola oil (which I never do!) to avoid ruining the taste.  Extra virgin olive oil is not recommended for cooking over high heat and it is far too rich in flavor for several of the more subtle dishes.   And.......I schlepped my food processor from home.

Hope you enjoy the chicken. Everyone did!

Chicken "Ras el Hanout" with Tomato-Ginger Chutney

Juicy and aromatic, this cooks up in no time.  Ras el hanout is a complex, burnt umber-colored spice mixture from Morocco; you may substitute garam masala.

4 very large skinless boneless chicken thighs 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil 1-1/2 tablespons ras el janout 3 large ripe tomatoes, about 1 pound 1-1/2 tablespoons dark brown sugar 2 large garlic cloves, chopped 1-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and chopped 1/2 small scotch bonnet pepper 1 teaspoon ground cumin

Preheat the broiler or a ridge stovetop grill pan.  Pound the chicken slightly to flatten so that each thigh lies flat.  Place in a large bowl and add the oil, ras el hanout, and 1 teaspoon salt.  Toss to coat.  Broil or grill the chicken for 4 minutes on each side, until just cooked through.  Cut the tomatoes in chunks and put in food processor with the brown sugar, garlic, ginger, scotch bonnet, and cumin.  Pulse until coarsely chopped.  Add salt to taste and serve atop the hot chicken.  Serves 4

True Confessions

Last night's dinner was a disaster...and I made it!  No kidding.  I am just beginning the recipe-testing phase of a new article for Real Food magazine and am working on the Summer 2011 entertaining issue.  Many magazines work way ahead, and before long, I'll be using the cranberries currently in my freezer (from last November) to do the Thanksgiving feature -- due this summer! The theme of these food stories has been "planning ahead" -- with much of the prep done in advance, and the menu choreographed in such a way so that you, the cook-and-host, can enjoy your own party. This year's do-ahead dinner will include "dry-spiced" flank steak ceremoniously glazed with pomegranate and fragrant thyme.  That was to be last night's family meal.  One of the benefits of writing food stories is that often there is food to eat -- and generally, it's quite good.  If not the first try, then surely the second.  Last night, even the third hit was a miss.  It was enough to make a grown girl cry.  The problem was the pomegranate molasses.  Somehow I thought this would be a good idea, to use just a bit of the tart syrupy elixir and to it add soy sauce, tomato paste, grated red onion, dark brown sugar, fresh bay leaves, and a bit of cumin.  Well, it looked gorgeous and the marinade tasted real good.  But I had a premonition that such a concoction belonged on poultry or pork.  Four hours of marination, and a red-hot sear in a pan, made the meat taste like, well, the only word I can think of is...unknowable.  I scraped off the marinade and tried broiling it.  It was awful.  The third attempt deployed a simpler glaze but with disastrous results.   My family was starving. What to do?  I poured a bottle of chunky red salsa over the whole thing and finished cooking the meat in a 500-degree oven.   "Dinner's ready," I meekly suggested. I carved the steak into thick rosy slices and poured some unusual pan juices over both the meat and the salad that I threw together.   My husband had spent much of  the afternoon roasting an enormous beet.  It was pretty undercooked.  Chewy, in fact.  We cut it up and ate it anyway.  I believe my husband actually called it "Chewish."  And that, my friends, is the end of the story. But here's a yummy thing to do with flank steak.  You can serve it thickly sliced (on the bias) for dinner tonight or wait until the Super Bowl and carve it ever-so-thin on top of slices of toasted baguette -- it's a "he-man" canape and great with beer or martinis.

My Flank Steak “Chimichurri" 2 pounds flank steak 3/4 packed cup chopped flat parsley 1/4 packed cup chopped cilantro 2 tablespoons oregano 2 teaspoons ground cumin ½ scant teaspoon red pepper flakes 2 large cloves garlic, coarsely chopped 1/2 cup olive oil 3 tablespoons red wine vinegar 1 long, thin baguette, about 8 ounces, if using for canapes sea salt

Season meat with salt and pepper. Place all ingredients (except bread) in bowl of food processor. Add 1 teaspoon salt. Process until very smooth.  Coat meat lightly with 2 tablespoons dressing on each side. Let sit 1 hour. Reserve remaining sauce.

(Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Slice bread into 40 thin slices. Place on large baking sheet and bake until just firm, about 5 minutes. Remove from oven.)

Preheat broiler. Place flank steak on broiler pan.  Broil for 4 minutes on each side for medium rare.  Transfer to cutting board.  Let rest 5 minutes.  Sprinkle again with salt.  Cut into thick slices, on the bias, and drizzle with remaining sauce.  Serves 4

Or, if making canapes, slice very thin, against the grain, and place on croutons. Spread each with a little sauce.  Serve warm or at room temperature. Makes about 40

Healthy Bread & Honey-Walnut Cream Cheese

It's cold outside.  And even if it's not, bread is totally awesome to make, and a lovely stay-in-the-house weekend activity.   For more than two decades, I have left the bread baking skills to my husband who created his own sour-starter and kept it going for more than 15 years.  "Longer than most marriages," my friend Arthur would say of a box of pasta.  After those 15 years, my husband started winging his formula with a different, but no-less-delicious, result every time. With the skill of a surgeon, he cuts into the first crusty piece; with the consideration of a wine maven, he deems it "good."   But today, my daughter and I will make a much simpler bread that takes much less time to prepare and is pretty much fool-proof.  It can't compare to my husband's artisanal weekly triumphs or the professional holiness of Jim Lahey's now-famous technique, but to a 14-year old, it is guaranteed pleasure.  It is also rather healthy.  Put aside approximately three and a half hours:  This includes the time for two risings, baking, and cooling.  Granulated yeast can be found in any supermarket, right next to the flour.  "Kneading" the dough means that you press it down hard, fold it over itself, then press again.  You do it at least twenty-five times per rising.  Lightly flour your hands, not the counter, as you go along.  In this recipe, the surprise addition of cocoa powder adds a hint of flavor and turns the bread a lovely color.  When it's all done, Shayna and I play a game.  What are we going to spread on it today? Honey-walnut cream cheese?  Homemade carrot marmalade (as in the photo) or... is it time to make butter, again!?  After all, said M.F.K. Fisher -- the high priestess of food writers, "The smell of good bread baking, like the sound of lightly flowing water, is indescribable in its evocation of innocence and delight."  Exactly. A Loaf of Whole-Wheat Bread Makes 1 loaf (about 14 slices)

1 package granulated yeast 1 tablespoon sugar 1-1/2 cups whole-wheat flour 1/2 cup all-purpose unbleached white flour, plus more for your hands 1 tablespoon unsweetened cocoa powder 1/2 cup milk, at room temperature 2 teaspoons olive oil, for greasing the pan

Put 1/2 cup warm tap water in a small bowl.  Stir in the yeast and sugar until dissolved.  Let sit 10 minutes until it bubbles and doubles its volume.  Put both flours, cocoa, and 1/2 teaspoon salt in a large bowl that can be used with electric beaters.  Mix briefly.  Add the dissolved yeast and mix until crumbly.  Add the milk and beat until the dough forms a ball that pulls away from the sides of the bowl.  The dough will be a bit sticky.  Roll onto a clean counter and knead 25 times (flouring your hands as needed.)  Roll into a smooth ball and put into a large clean bowl.  Pull plastic wrap tightly over the top.  You can do your homework or watch it rise!  Let rise 1-1/2 hours or until the dough has doubled in volume and is a little spongy.  Punch the dough down again and knead on the counter 24 times.  Lightly oil a 8-1/2-x-4-1/2 inch loaf pan (or any 6-cup pan) and put the dough into the pan, making sure to press it down into the corners.  Cover with a kitchen towel and let it rise 1 hour, until the dough has risen by half.   During the second rising, heat the oven to 400 degrees.  Bake for 35 minutes until firm to the touch.  Let cool 10 minutes, then turn it out of the pan. Cool before slicing. Honey-Walnut Cream Cheese 1/2 cup coarsely chopped toasted walnuts 8 ounces cream cheese 3 tablespoons wildflower honey

Place cream cheese and honey in bowl of electric mixer.  Using the paddle, beat just until smooth.  Add nuts and mix.  Cover and chill.  Makes 1-1/4 cups

Wrinkled Grapes

A few weeks ago, my husband brought home a rather large amount of seedless red grapes.  They were the size of marbles and looked like they would pucker your lips.  Instead they were delicious and sweet.  But they lingered in the fridge and began to wrinkle like the tips of your fingers after a long hot bath.  Didn't give it much thought until I got a Facebook message from Nancy at Expendable Edibles.  She and her partner are in the business of making sure people discover fascinating ways to use the odds and ends in the refrigerator:  the last dregs of vinegar, the dehydrated knob of ginger, two pieces of leftover soppressata, a gnarled carrot.  Nancy, who, after seeing the large photo of my Sauteed Chicken with Roasted Grapes (from Radically Simple) in the New York Times queried, "Hey, couldn't you use oldish, wrinkled grapes for that dish?  After all, that's the way they wind up after roasting?!"  I liked the question and the theoretical construct.  Using pre-wrinkled grapes already gave you a head start!  More importantly, though, not throwing those grapes away benefits the planet -- and stretches the family grocery bill.  "Of course the sun does some of this for us already," I thought, as I contemplated the inverse evolution of some of our favorite foods -- grapes into raisins, plums into prunes, ripe tomatoes into sun-dried tomatoes, botrytised grapes into Sauternes.  I'm certain there are others, some of them are lurking in your fridge.

In addition to that gorgeous chicken dish, however, is another splendid recipe that features grapes as a prime ingredient:  "Grape and Pignoli Breakfast Cake."  A huge hit from Eat Fresh Food, my cookbook for teenage chefs, no one (including adults!) can resist the pleasure of pushing grapes, one by one, into the batter. I will be using the last of my wrinkled grapes this morning with a nod to the girls at Expendable Edibles.  Look for my "live interview" with them tomorrow.

Grape-and-Pignoli Breakfast Cake Not too sweet, but full of flavor, this moist breakfast cake is an original spin on more ordinary coffee cakes.  My daughter, Shayna, is a grape freak and thinks the cake is "divine."  It lasts several days in a tightly-covered tin.  And yes, you can use slightly wrinkled grapes.

12 ounces red seedless grapes (not too large) 2 extra-large eggs 1/4 cup milk 1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon olive oil 1 teaspoon vanilla extract grated zest of 1 lemon 1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar 1-1/2 cups self-rising flour 2 tablespoons pignoli nuts (pine nuts)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Wash the grapes and discard stems.  Dry well and set aside.  In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, 1/2 cup olive oil,vanilla, lemon zest, and 1/2 cup of the sugar.  Blend thoroughly.  Stir in the flour and mix well until smooth.  Use 1 tablespoon oil to grease a 9-inch tart pan with a removable bottom and pour in the batter.  Place the grapes evenly, about 1/4-inch apart, in concentric circles on top of the batter to cover the entire surface.  Press the grapes halfway into the batter.  Scatter pignoli evenly on the cake and sprinkle with the remaining tablespoon of sugar.  Bake 45 minutes until golden and firm to the touch. Remove from oven and let cool.  Serves 8 to 10

Cooking in Silence

So while I was away "eating in silence," perhaps you explored the concept of "cooking in silence" as suggested on the morning of my departure for the Garrison Institute.  On a retreat entitled "The Five Remembrances," dealing with the issues of aging, illness, death, loss and personal actions (what joy!), there was, in fact, much joy in being mindful -- of each moment of the day and of each day of our life.  I often bring that idea to the kitchen as a daily practice (although not as often as I'd like.)  I choose a recipe, and I get the kitchen (and myself) as quiet as possible.  Then...I carefully lay out each of the recipes components -- those ingredients that go directly into the dish (vegetables, herbs, spices, "disconnected" hunks of protein) -- and those implements (pots, cutting board, wooden spoons, dish towel), that are necessary for its preparation.  I carefully look at each; mindful of their individual task.  I am aware of the colors and the wild variety of shapes -- and I am mindful of the extraordinary offerings from nature.  I am also aware of my willingness to honor the notion that humans are omnivores yet often disconnect myself from the source of the flesh -- fish, chickens, pigs, and cows.  I must make a note to be more mindful of that.  When you cook in silence, and are "fully awake" in the process, you will hear the sounds of cooking (water boiling, oil sizzling, toast popping, knifes chopping against wood), and you will engage in the experience with a feeling of satisfaction far greater than merely completing a task.  It adds great pleasure to also acknowledge those who will be eating this food -- to honor those, one-by-one, who will sit at your table.  And finally, but most importantly, to remember those, with a heartfelt nod, who brought us this food.  As the Zen meal chant goes, "Seventy-two labors brought us this food. We should know how it comes to us."

So today I've selected a recipe that will help you quietly put together a nourishing meal.  You can serve it with a simple soup to start, and add a salad and steamed vegetable.  I thought about a dish involving several activities -- peeling, chopping, repetitious stirring, careful heating, with deliberate yet forgiving movements.  It is an orzo "risotto" with wild mushrooms -- I was among the first to cook orzo, a rice-shaped pasta, using the same techniques as one would for arborio rice, by first sautéing the orzo in olive oil until golden and then slowly incorporating stock.  The texture is velvety and it reheats well.

For dessert...a Chocolate Buddha.  Are you smiling?  The Bond Street Chocolate Shop, located on East 4th Street, in the East Village makes them.  They are dusted with "gold" and are available in different sizes.  I may bump into you there.

Orzo "Risotto" with Wild Mushrooms adapted from Little Meals (1993)

2 tablespoons olive oil 1/3 cup finely chopped shallots 12 ounces uncooked orzo 2 tablespoons cognac 3-1/2 to 4 cups beef (or vegetable) broth 4 ounces shiitake or chanterelle mushrooms, thickly sliced 1/2 cup heavy cream 1/3 cup freshly-grated Parmigiano-Reggiano 2 tablespoons julienned flat-leaf parsley

Heat oil in a heavy, enameled pot.  Add shallots and cook until soft, about 5 minutes.  Add orzo and saute 5 minutes over medium-high heat until golden brown, stirring constantly.  Add cognac and let liquid evaporate.  Heat broth and add 1 cup to the pot. Cook over low heat until liquid is absorbed.  Adjust heat as necessary and stir continuously with a wooden spoon.  Add next cup of broth and continue stirring.  Add mushrooms and remaining broth.  Continue to cook until all broth is absorbed and orzo is tender.  Add cream, stir until heated and stir in cheese, salt and pepper.  Divide evening among 4 warm soup plates and sprinkle with parsley.  Serves 4

A Retreat

As you are reading this, I will be away on a retreat focused on a new discipline called "contemplative care" at the Garrison Institute in Garrison, New York --a beautiful monastery located on the banks of the Hudson River.  This three-day retreat is based on meditative practice, teachings, and silence, and is related to the work I do with hospice.  During these three days, why not browse the blog -- there are 75 consecutive posts (surely you have missed a few!) -- and choose three you most enjoyed.  Let me know your thoughts.  Perhaps you will even try a new recipe, or two.  I will be back in touch on Monday with renewed energy.  A thought while I'm away.  Think about cooking in silence.  I often do.  You will be amazed how resounding the "sounds of cooking" in the kitchen can be.  Namaste.

Meatballs "To Die For"

This brings us to our last of Google's most sought-after recipe requests.  Even at position #10, this number undoubtedly represents thousands of pots of simmering tomato sauce begging for orbs of ground meat, mixed with spices, and love.  "I love my meatballs," Italian cooking maestro Arthur Schwartz whispered to me just last night.  This, from the man who helped put Neapolitan cuisine on the map, about the dish that, "along with pizza and spaghetti with tomato sauce, (meatballs) have to be the most internationally famous, even infamous specialty of Naples."  And while other cultures have their versions, Jewish sweet-and-sour meatballs, albondigas from Spain, Swedish meatballs, Lions head meatballs from China, meatballs from India and the Middle East called kofta, I believe it is the southern Italian prototype that people most desire. According to Arthur in his delicious book Naples at Table, "often the meatballs of Naples are considered too bready -- too meager, too poor, too deceptive.  But it is, in fact, the high ratio of soaked, dried bread they complain about that makes them so light, so crusty, so juicy, so really clever."  The inclusion of mollica di pane -- the milk -or water-soaked interior dough of fresh bread -- gave way to dried breadcrumbs when Italians migrated to America.  In this mecca of meat and gold-paved streets, they upped the ratio of beef to bread, and presto!, the meatballs became heavier.  But no, not Arthur's.  His are considered among many to be "da morire"  (To die for.) Meatballs can be eaten as a main course with a vegetable, as they often are in Naples.  Or, they can be fried and dropped into tomato sauce; or served atop a bowl of spaghetti. I personally love meatballs in a hero sandwich (some of you say "subs" or "grinders"), topped with melted mozzaralla.  I adore the tomato-soaked bread that lingers behind.  Arthur's recipe, which you will find below, has pine nuts and raisins in the mixture.  These days, he laments, not everyone adds them -- it's up to family tastes -- "but these embellishments make for a much more interesting dish, a Baroque touch from the Baroque city."

All this talk about meatballs makes me want to run to the Film Forum next week to see director Pasolini's movie "Mamma Roma" starring Anna Magnani -- beginning 1/21.  The movie itself tells the story of a life that, like Neapolitan meatballs, depicts poverty and deception.  It is the tale of a middle-aged prostitute trying to put her sordid past behind her and fashion a good life for her teenage son.  Pasolini, by the way, is considered one of Italy's greatest modern poets, novelists, and film directors (he died in 1975.)  And Magnani, no doubt, is considered one of Italy's finest actresses.   See you at the Forum!

Polpette alla Napoletana adapted from Naples at Table

3 cups dried crustless bread cut into 1-1/2-inch cubes before measuring 1-1/4 pounds ground beef (80% -- not leaner) 3 eggs, beaten well 2 large cloves garlic, finely minced 1/2 cup (loosely packed) grated pecorino cheese 1/4 cup (loosely packed) finely cut parsley 1/3 cup pine nuts 1/3 cup raisins 1 teaspoon salt 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper 1/4 cup vegetable oil 1 quart favorite tomato sauce

Soak the bread in cold water.  Meanwhile, in a large mixing bowl, combine, but do not yet mix, the remaining ingredients, except the oil and tomato sauce.  Squeeze the bread by fistfuls to drain it, then break it up into the bowl.  First with a fork, then with your hands, blend the mixture very well, squishing it in your hands to make sure the bread blends with the meat.  Do not worry about handling the meat too much.  With your hands moistened in cold water, roll the mixture between your palms into 12 meatballs. When a drop of water sizzles immediately, it's hot enough for the meatballs.  Gently place them in the pan and as soon as the first side looks brown, dislodge them and turn to another side.  Continue rotating the meatballs, using a wooden spoon and/or spatula.  After 10 minutes the meatballs should be well browned but slightly rare in the center.  If serving without sauce, continue cooking them for 5 to 8 minutes, rotating them as you go.  If serving with sauce, place them in the sauce now and simmer for 15 minutes.  Makes 12 meatballs

Apple Pie #9

I'm the last one in the world to supply a blue-ribbon formula for apple pie -- Google's 9th most popular recipe request. In my 32 years as a professional chef, and as an American housewife, I regret that I have never made an apple pie. Tarte tatins, yes. Apple cake, yes. Fresh apple tarts, yes.  Free-form apple galettes, yes. Apple cobblers, too. But never a pie.  I don't know why. Pie was something we ate when we went out. On Hillside Avenue in Jamaica, Queens, where we once lived (and Paul Newman lived across the street), was a restaurant serving only pie. Four 'n Twenty, I believe was its name. My favorite was Apple Crumb Pie. (My mother's favorite was Nesselrode!) This was decades ago. Now my favorite apple pie is, don't laugh, the one from Costco -- large enough to feed a city block -- yet cheaper than any one dessert on any restaurant menu. (I think it's $8.99). It has a thick lattice top and a gooey, cinnamon-y kind of syrup holding together what seem to be REAL apples. I know there are versions out there that are better, or more suave, but when it comes to sweets, my tastes sometimes skew...big! The appropriate scoop of vanilla ice cream to accompany this giant wedge of pie would be the size of a softball, just in case you were wondering. But no one at home has a pie tin that big. For more normal-size pies you might want to consult...Google! Simply type in 'apple pie recipe' and you will come up with Grandma Ople's. It has 3621 hits and many rave reviews. Likewise you can consult "James Beard's American Cookery" (we have a first edition signed to my husband by Beard -- they were buddies -- in April 1972.) There Beard says, "many old American cookbooks did not bother to give a recipe for apple pie. It was taken for granted that every housewife had her own favorite." But he supplies two nice-sounding pies: I could be tempted.

But for the time being, my favorite apple pie is a curious one that I feature in Recipes 1-2-3 called Snitz Pie -- "snitz" being the name used by the Pennsylvania Dutch for dried apples. Snitz Apple Pie A good apple pie goes a long way in assuring domestic tranquility. No one will know that this pie begins with snitz -- but everyone will be happy. You can make your own pie crust, purchase a good-quality frozen crust, or use puff pastry.

3 cups dried apple slices 1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon vanilla sugar or cinnamon sugar wonderful pastry for a 9-inch two-crust pie

Soak apples overnight in 3 cups water. Cook in soaking liquid, covered for 20 minutes, or until apples are very soft. Mash them coarsely in a pot. Cook 1 minute to let water evaporate. Add 1/2 cup vanilla sugar, mix well and cook another minute or two. Let cool. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Turn apples into a pastry-lined pie tin. Cover with the top crust, and crimp crusts together. Make 3 slits to let the steam escape. Sprinkle with remaining tablespoon vanilla sugar. Bake 10 minutes. Reduce heat to 350 and bake 30 minutes longer. Let cool completely. Serves 8

#8 A Popular Lasagna

Lasagna. Once upon a time it meant striations of wide wiggle-edge ribbons of pasta layered with creamy ricotta cheese, tomato-y meat sauce, parmesan cheese and melted mozzarella. No wonder it is #8 on the Google most-wanted recipe search. But today, that familiar rendition of lasagna has been mostly relegated to pizza places and family-run trattorias. Even diners. Today lasagna is pure fashion, with new seasons sporting adventurous combinations and colors -- nothing anyone in Italy would recognize as a classic. Years, ago I created a modern twist on lasagna for Bon Appetit magazine. It was made with butternut squash, portabello mushrooms, fresh sage and thyme, and smoked mozzarella. Little did I know that, in one neighborhood in particular, it became a prelude to childbirth. According to my good friend Debbie Freundlich, whose daughter-in-law began the trend, before any expectant Brooklyn Heights mother went to the hospital, an ample supply of my butternut lasagna was prepared days before and popped in the freezer! Apparently, many expecting fathers, friends and relatives have been treated to big squares of this stuff for half-a-dozen years or more.  When I asked Debbie to tell me about this special recipe, she told me the ingredients. I chortled, "Hey, that's my recipe." Little did I know that it had been given a new name. In some zip codes, it's known as "pregnancy lasagna." What can I say? It's made with "no-boil" lasagna noodles (a requirement made by the Bon App editors), is vegetarian, and satisfying to make. And it seems to freeze well.

Butternut Squash and Portabello Lasagna I used a very good organic vegetable broth called Imagine from California. It has lots of body and lovely flavor. This can be assembled one day ahead and refrigerated.

4 tablespoons unsalted butter 2-1/2 cups finely chopped onions 8 ounces baby portabello mushrooms, sliced 2 pounds butternut squash, peeled and seeded 2 cups vegetable broth 4 tablespoons chopped fresh thyme 4 tablespoons slivered fresh sage 3 15-ounce containers whole-milk ricotta 4 cup grated mozzarella or smoked mozzarella (or a combination) 2 cups freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano 4 large eggs, beaten 9-ounce package no-boil lasagna noodles olive oil for oiling lasagna pan

Melt butter in large skillet over medium-high heat. Add onions and cook until soft, about 8 minutes. Increase heat to high and add sliced mushrooms. Cook until tender, stirring constantly, about 3 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Transfer mixture to bowl and set aside. Cut squash into 1/4-inch thick slices or 1/2-inch dice.  Add squash, broth, 3 tablespoons thyme and 3 tablespoons sage to the skillet. Cover and simmer until squash is just tender, about 6 minutes. Uncover and cook until squash is very soft but still retains shape, about 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Mix ricotta, 2 cups mozzarella, 1-1/2 cups parmesan and remaining herbs in a large bowl. Season with salt and pepper; mix in eggs. Brush a 13x9x2-inch glass baking dish with oil. Spread 1 cup ricotta mixture over bottom. Arrange 3 noodles on top.  Spread 1-3/4 cups ricotta mixture over noodles. Arrange 1-1/3 cups squash mixture over. Sprinkle with 1/2 cup mushrooms and 1 cup mozzarella. Top with 3 noodles, then 1-3/4 cups ricotta, half of remaining squash, 1/2 cup mushrooms and remaining 1 cup mozzarella. Repeat with noodles, 1-3/4 cups ricotta, remaining squash and remaining mushrooms. Top with 3 noodles. Spread remaining ricotta on top; sprinkle with remaining parmesan. Cover with oiled foil. Preheat oven to 350. Bake, covered, 35 minutes. Uncover and bake about 25 minutes longer. Let stand 10 minutes before serving. Serves 8

Salsa #7

Salsa #7 refers to the ranking of recipe requests on Google for this vibrant condiment.  Salsa, in fact, has overtaken ketchup sales in America in dollar value (not volume, yet.)  No one could really have anticipated it, except perhaps the guys behind the Tostitos and Pace brands.  According to one study, ketchup just edged out salsa by units sold, 176 million to 174.9 million.  Pretty close.  But because ketchup bottles are bigger, ketchup trounced salsa in pounds sold.  Nonetheless, no one dips a tortilla chip into a bowl of ketchup! And there are no Champion Ketchup Competitions, such as the World Salsa Competition held by the International Chili Society.  What is interesting, too, is that few foods have dances to call their own. Salsa as food; salsa as performance art.  I love them both. As one research firm has discovered, salsa consumption has bucked the usual "proletarian drift" of many other new food products which usually begin in the large coastal metropolitan areas and slowly migrate to the heartland. Instead, salsa began in the southwest and spread its piquancy across America.  Salsa is also interesting as it is ubiquitous in the Latino market yet is still considered a bit upscale -- and also a healthy choice -- by the Anglo marketplace.

Red salsa-in-a-jar has so many uses. My good friend Chase Crossingham makes superb guacamole-filled omelettes and tops them with salsa and sour cream. Splendid. I have pureed the heck out of it, added a touch of olive oil and lime zest, and used it as a puddle for grilled swordfish. Once I steamed 3 pounds of mussels in it and added a splash of tequila.  In my cookbook Recipes 1-2-3, I dared make a soup that I called "Sopa de Salsa" -- made with half-and-half, yellow onion, and a jar of medium-hot salsa. But there are many other salsas to explore -- I like them made with fresh fruit, too -- mangoes and pineapple add great verve.

Here's the 2008 World Champion Salsa winner called Alf's Salsa. It has lots of ingredients but seems radically simple to make.

4 jalapenos, seeded and deveined 4 serranos, seeded and deveined 2 Anaheim peppers, seeded and deveined 1 yellow bell pepper 1 orange bell pepper 8 Roma tomatoes juice of 1 lime 16 oz. can of diced tomatoes 16 oz. can of pureed tomatoes 1 red onion 1 yellow onion 1 white onion 1 teaspoon ground cumin 1/2 teaspoon ground cayenne 3 cloves garlic, mashed 2 tablespoons salt 2 tablespoons sugar 1 bunch cilantro

Finely dice the peppers, onions and tomatoes. Add the remaining ingredients except the cilantro. Chill 2 hours; chop the cilantro and add as much as desired. And here's a much simpler version! 1 tablespoon oil 1 small onion 1 large clove garlic 2 very large ripe tomatoes 1 small jalapeno pepper, seeded and finely chopped 3 tablespoons finely chopped cilantro 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin fresh lime juice and Tabasco to taste

Chop all the ingredients very well. Add fresh lime juice, Tabasco and salt to taste. Cover and refrigerate at least 30 minutes.

The Hummus Factor

Pronounced most properly as "who-mousse" (not hum-muss), this now ubiquitous chickpea spread landed as number six on Google's most frequent recipe search.  Yet, a recent article in The Jewish Week stated that 82% of Americans have never tried it.  Huh?  Statistically then, hummus recipes are voraciously desired by a rather small universe.   According to Amy Spiro, who wrote the story, in 1995 hummus was a $5 million industry with just a handful of companies manufacturing it.  Today sales have reached $350 million a year.  Maybe the universe for delicious dips is expanding. I have always loved hummus.  During 10 visits to the Middle East since 1980, I have pursued the best and most authentic.  I am generally surprised how thick and ultra-suave the texture is (mine never quite gets that way).  Hummus is a chickpea puree flavored with tahini (sesame seed paste), fresh lemon, garlic and cumin.  Cold water is generally added to help emulsify the ingredients and loosen the sesame paste.  There are as many versions as there are characters in a Tolstoy play: I love it served warm and topped with toasted walnuts and dukkah (a spice blend from Egypt); served cold with spicy warm ground lamb; topped with zhug (a very spicy Yemenite condiment) and a hard-boiled egg, or just as is with a sprinkling of pine nuts and a pile of toasted pita.  In my new book Radically Simple, I saute a mess of wild mushrooms and pile them atop a mound of lemony hummus as a great first course for the vegetarians I know and love.  Hummus, is also my "go to" improv hors d'oeuvre for any last-minute guests.  And although hummus is most delicious made with dried chickpeas you cook yourself, it is perfectly credible made with canned chickpeas:  They are always in my pantry.

Generally considered a dip, hummus has become a most universal food:  It is breakfast for some, a wholesome lunch for others.  It can be a snack, a sandwich spread, something with which to fill cherry tomatoes, an edible bed for grilled chicken or fish.  I like to sneak a mound of hummus under a hillock of lightly-dressed greens for fun.  Look, surprise, hummus!

Here's my favorite recipe adapted slightly from Little Meals: A Great New Way to Eat & Cook (written by me in 1993.) Hummus Serve with a pile of toasted pita bread or with a grand array of fresh vegetables for dipping.  The recipe is easily doubled and tripled and lasts several days in your fridge.

1-1/2 cups freshly cooked chickpeas (or a 15-ounce can) 3 to 4 tablespoons freshly-squeezed lemon juice 3 tablespoons tahini (well-stirred) 1 medium clove garlic 2 to 3 tablespoons cold water 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin 1/2 teaspoon salt extra-virgin olive oil for drizzling optional: toasted sesame seeds and smoked paprika for dusting on top

If using canned chickpeas, drain them under cold water and shake dry.  Put chickpeas, 3 tablespoons lemon juice, tahini, garlic, 2 tablespoons water, cumin and salt in a food processor and process several minutes until very smooth.  Add more lemon juice if desired and a little more water to make a smooth consistency, if necessary.  Pack into a shallow dish or spread the hummus on a large plate.  Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with sesame seeds and smoked paprika, if using.  Makes 1-1/2 cups

Heavenly Hots

Yes, PANCAKES are numero five on Google's most-requested recipe list.  And while I always loved pancakes as a kid, we never ate them at home.  Instead we enjoyed my mother's crepe-like palascintas (she was Hungarian) and ventured out to IHOP as a special treat. (We also had Christmas brunch there this year!) My brother and I ate buttermilk pancakes (I'm sure I had mine with strawberries), but my mother ate IHOP's version of palascintas! -- elegant crepes drenched in a faux Grand Marnier syrup.  My dad ate hash, sausage and bacon.  As I recall, his cholesterol was surprisingly low.  But most people eat pancakes at home.  Only this year did I create a pancake recipe for Radically Simple, where the batter rises slowly overnight -- much in the way that a yeast-bread rises -- allowing for concentrated flavor and lots of air bubbles that result in supernal fluffiness.  These pancakes are the yin to the yang of Marion Cunninghams' "Heavenly Hots" -- my favorite pancake experience of all time.  I first had them at the Bridge Creek Restaurant one morning, in Berkeley, California, when I was alone on a business trip. John Hudspeth was the chef and owner and a dear friend of Marion's:  She was the original Fanny Farmer and one of the most loved women in the food world. (I later became of friend of Marion's and dearly enjoyed my time with her near her home in Walnut Creek, CA and when she visited New York.)  I recall the first bite of the aptly-named "heavenly hot."  I swooned.  Everyone did.  For these small delicate pancakes seemed to levitate, then slowly disappear on your tongue. Thanks to Marion's lovely book, "The Breakfast Book," signed to 'Michael and Rozanne' in 1987, (we had just gotten married), the inclusion of this special recipe makes it possible to eat them at home. In her sweet headnote Marion writes, "These are the lightest sour cream silver-dollar-size hotcakes I've ever had -- they seem to hover over the plate.  They are heavenly and certainly should be served hot."

Bridge Creek Heavenly Hots According to Marion, this recipe yields fifty to sixty small pancakes!

4 eggs 1/2 teaspoon salt 1/2 teaspoon baking soda 1/4 cup cake flour 2 cups sour cream 3 tablespoons sugar

Put the eggs in a mixing bowl and stir until well blended.  Add the salt, baking soda, flour, sour cream, and sugar.  Mix well.  All of this can be done in a blender, if you prefer.  Heat a griddle or frying pan until it is good and hot, film with grease, and drop small spoonfuls of batter onto the griddle -- just enough to spread to an approximately 2-1/2-inch round.  When a few bubbles appear on top of the pancakes, turn them over and cook briefly.  Makes 50 to 60 silver-dollar size pancakes

#4 Delicious Banana Bread

I am imagining the tonnage of overripe, black-and-yellow speckled bananas lounging in home kitchens across America.  Why else would banana bread be Google's fourth most sought-after recipe?  And while I enjoy banana bread as much as the next guy, it is hard to imagine it trumping brownies, let's say, as the most beloved treat.  But valuable it is in the nutrition it can offer.  My recipe for a super-moist banana bread includes a freshly-grated zucchini and lots of plump golden raisins.  It also incorporates olive oil, instead of butter, for added moisture and even more health benefits.  My recipe also uses less sugar than the more typical bread and that sugar is unrefined turbinado, rather than granulated.  So there you have it.  A very lovely Banana-Zucchini Bread that is radically simple, and quite healthy, to make.  These types of breads  are also called "tea cakes" and are a nice thing to serve for afternoon tea with a dollop, perhaps, of mascarpone (Italian cream cheese) sweetened ever so slightly with wildflower honey.

I'd be thrilled if anyone cared to share a favorite banana bread recipe with me.  I've got plenty of bananas lounging around.

Very Moist Banana-Zucchini Bread You will love the mysterious flavor and moisture that comes from a very ripe banana and a zucchini!  Healthy, easy, wonderful.

1 large zucchini, about 10 ounces 2 extra-large eggs 3/4 cup turbinado sugar 2/3 cup olive oil, plus more for greasing the pan 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon 1 large over-ripe banana 1/2 golden raisins 1-1/2 cups self-rising flour

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Wash the zucchini and dry; do not peel.  Grate the zucchini on the large holes of a box grater to get 2 cups.  Using your clean hands, squeeze the zucchini dry.  In the bowl of an electric mixer, beat the eggs and sugar on medium-high for 3 minutes.  Add the oil, vanilla, cinnamon and 1/4 teaspoon salt; beat for 30 seconds.  Peel the banana and mash well.  Add to the mixture and beat until the banana is incorporated and the mixture is smooth.  Stir in the zucchini and raisins, then slowly add the flour and mix well.  Lightly oil a 8-x-4-inch loaf pan.  Pour in the batter and bake for 55 minutes until firm and golden.  Let cool; turn bread out of pan and slice.  Serves 8

A Great Cheesecake

Cheesecake recipes are precious legacies.  Many get handed down from generation to generation more sure-handedly than the family china.  A good cheesecake is the crown jewel of the American dessert cart and, "Whose is best?," is the mythology that keeps us talking. And asking.  Which brings us to the reason that"cheesecake" is the third most requested recipe on the Google hit parade.  As far as I know, no one in my family ever made a cheesecake.  We loved Sara Lee's (truly) -- the one from the freezer case in the supermarket (and I enjoyed eating it frozen!)-- and we would venture as often as possible to Junior's -- a New York cheesecake institution.  Over the years, the cheesecake wars included Miss Grimble, Turf, Eileen's, and Lady Oliver's (the company of Rachel Hirschfeld, who delivered her velvety cheesecakes to New York's top restaurants in a white Bentley.)  When I was the chef at Gracie Mansion for Mayor Koch (in 1978!), Turf was the cheesecake we used -- I topped it with small strawberries and glazed them with melted currant jelly laced with a bit of Cassis.  When President Jimmy Carter came to visit, I bought a peanut cheesecake enrobed in crackly caramel, from a wonderfully fun restaurant called Once Upon A Stove.  I served it, with a glass of milk, alongside the Carter nightstand on the second floor bedroom.  He enjoyed it tremendously.

Before writing Radically Simple, I, like the other women in my family, never made a cheesecake.  And that's why I am eternally grateful to Anne Kabo of Margate, New Jersey, who taught me how.  Anne, through a complex family saga, is a relative of sorts and a cherished one at that.  The radically delicious cheesecake recipe that follows belongs to her, as does the lovely photo she took.

A Radically Simple Cheesecake Anne Kabo, one of the best home bakers I know, created one of the best cheesecakes I've had.  The crust doesn't need to be pre-baked and, compared to most recipes, it is radically simple.  It also freezes beautifully.  You can cover any cracks with shaved white chocolate or simply adorn the cake with ripe berries.

6 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature 5 ounces honey graham crackers 1/2 cup walnuts or pecans 1-1/4 cups sugar 3 extra-large eggs, room temperature 16 ounces cream cheese, broken into pieces 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract 1 tablespoon cornstarch 24 ounces sour cream

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.  Butter a deep 10-inch springform pan with 2 tablespoons of the butter.  Finely crush the graham crackers, nuts, and 1/4 cup sugar in a food processor.  Melt the remaining 4 tablespoons butter; stir into the crumbs until moistened.  Pat the crumbs onto the bottom and 1/2-inch up the side of the pan to form a crust.  Using a standing mixer, beat the eggs for 3 minutes.  Add the cream cheese and mix until smooth, 2 minutes.  Add the remaining 1 cup sugar, vanilla, cornstarch, and 1/4 teaspoon salt.  Beat on high for 2 minutes.  Add the sour cream and beat 1 minute longer.  Pour into the crust.  Bake 50 to 55 minutes until firm. Cool on a rack.  Cover and refrigerate until very cold.  Serves 16

A Heart-Shaped Meatloaf

As promised, a favorite meatloaf recipe.

For her entire life, my mother made meatloaf in the shape of a heart.  I still do.   The winning ratio is 2:1 -- two pounds beef to 1 pound onions.  But the real secret is the inclusion of ice water, and sometimes an ice cube or two, to keep the meat very juicy and moist.    As a teen I had the surprise (or disappointment) of my life when I sat down to a meal in the shape of a...loaf. Apparently my parents had a fight and my mother had no intention of using those romantic hands of hers that day to shape the familiar mixture into a big red heart (which she glazed with a bit of ketchup.)  It only happened once, but I never forgot it.  My first experience with a meat loaf, instead of a heart, still looms large.  In her day, my mother used ground sirloin and 4-C seasoned breadcrumbs.  Today, I use a combination of sirloin and chuck (for flavor and increased fat content) and add panko.  I also roast halved plum tomatoes alongside the "heart" and then pile them on top before serving.   It is very delicious and quite sensuous to sculpt with your hands.

Heart-Shaped Meatloaf with Charred Tomatoes

2 pounds ground beef (a combination of sirloin and chuck) 1 pound onions, finely chopped 2 tablespoons unsalted butter 1/2 cup panko or dried breadcrumbs 2 tablespoons Dijon mustard 6 tablespoons ketchup 2 teaspoons sriracha 1 clove garlic 1 egg yolk 1 tablespoon best-quality dried oregano 6 ripe medium plum tomatoes, halved lengthwise ¼ cup freshly-chopped chives

Preheat oven to 375.  Put ground meat in a large bowl.  Melt butter in very large skillet.  Add onions and ½ teaspoon salt; cook 15 minutes until dark brown; add to bowl.  Add panko, mustard, 2 tablespoons ketchup, sriracha, garlic, pushed through a press, oregano, and ½ teaspoon salt.  Add egg yolk and 1/2 cup ice water and mix well with your hands.  Place on rimmed baking sheet; form into a large heart shape.  Cover with thin layer of remaining ketchup.  Place halved tomatoes, cut side up, around edge of pan; sprinkle with salt.  Bake 45 minutes.  Turn tomatoes over, arrange on heart and drizzle with pan juices. Sprinkle with chives.  Serves 4

The Google "Top 10"

Interesting, but not altogether surprising, were the results of a recent survey conducted by "the Google team" as they swept their data and came up with the ten most requested recipes on the Internet in 2010.  They were, in descending order: chili, meatloaf, cheesecake, banana bread, pancakes, salsa, hummus, lasagna, apple pie and meatballs. To my way of thinking, home cooks don't want these recipes to expand their repertoire, but merely desire variations or improvements to the dishes they already make!  This recipe hit parade is a window onto the shared table of the American appetite and, perhaps, unites us in a way we hadn't imagined. Not unlike other top ten charts, music, art, books and movies, there exists a collective experience -- and many similarities -- that bridge class, race, religion, education, gender, and politics.  Humbling perhaps, even disarming: We all like a lot of the same things.

Within this gaggle of Google picks, are two dishes that belong, quite obviously, to other cultures yet have become a ubiquitous part of the American diet.  Salsa and hummus now sit as authentically as peanut butter and jelly on our supermarket shelves, and represent millions of dollars in weekly sales.  I am happy to say that I will be sharing my favorite versions of these top ten recipe requests in upcoming blogs.   Today, a chili.  Tomorrow, a meatloaf.

The original recipe for Espresso Bean Chili (vegetarian) came from my very first cookbook, Little Meals, and I served it on white polenta for quite a dramatic effect.  The recipe begins with dried black beans and, although a cinch to make, takes several hours to cook the beans properly.  For the busier cook, I adapted the recipe for my "Entertaining Made Easy" column in Bon Appetit, where already cooked, or canned beans are used.  It has become a favorite recipe of the editors there.

Espresso Bean Chili Little black beans remind me of espresso beans and thus this recipe was created.  Espresso powder is added for complexity and richness.  You may use canned black beans (drained well) or black beans that you cook until tender.  The recipe is easily doubled and can be made a day ahead.  Garnish with sour cream, shredded sharp cheddar, chopped scallions, and slivered cilantro.

1/4 cup olive oil 2 large onions, finely chopped 2 tablespoons instant espresso powder 2 tablespoons chili powder 2 tablespoon ground cumin 28-ounce can crushed tomatoes with puree 3 tablespoons honey 3 large garlic cloves, minced 6 cups cooked black beans (or 3 15-ounce cans) 1/4 teaspoon chipotle chili powder pinch of ground cinnamon

Put oil in a large heavy pot and heat until hot.  Add onions and cook about 8 minutes until soft and golden.  Add the espresso, chili and cumin.  Stir and cook for 1 minute.  Add the tomatoes, honey and garlic.  Bring to a boil.  Reduce heat to low.  Cover and simmer 30 minutes.  Add the beans, 1 cup water, 1-1/2 teaspoons salt, chipotle chili powder and cinnamon.  Bring to a boil.  Reduce heat and simmer, uncovered, stirring often, about 30 minutes until the mixture has thickened.  Adjust seasonings.  Serves 4

Electric Orange Juice

For years I've been hearing about the big, bountiful, beautiful breakfasts at Norma's:  the hotel dining room at the Parker-Meridien on West 57th Street in New York City.  And while the experience was extremely pleasant and the food very good, the most outstanding part of the story was the orange juice!  At first I thought it was a hustle.  At $9 a glass, what was the deal?   "Who wants juice?" our affable waiter sung out? (He looked a bit like Baryshnikov).  With the grace of a dancer, he began pouring electric-looking orange liquid into three of our four extremely tall glasses.  I declined, and chose instead to have juice for dessert -- more about that later.  After 30 minutes, the glasses were filled again, and 10 minutes later...again.  Quickly I calculated that I was now $54 into the check and we hadn't had anything yet to eat!  Uh-oh, "here he comes again."  I didn't want to seem ungracious (I was treating), but finally said, "Sir, uh, um, do you charge for each glass of juice?"   "Oh no," he said.  "Refills are free."  Instant relief for me, then curiousity.  Why would they do that?  The juice was extraordinary tasting.  It was though a crate of succulent Honeybells was squeezed into each glass.  While it was the hospitality-equivalent of the unlimited "sweet tea" you encounter in the South, this orange elixir had to cost them a fortune.   The food arrived...a PB&C Waffle 'Wich (a chocolate waffle with peanut butter and toffee crunch filling), Artychoked Benedict (with truffle porcini sauce), Super Cheesy French Toast (with caramelized onions and applewood smoked bacon), and Normalita's Huevos Rancheros and...more juice. As I mentioned, I saved mine for dessert.  One of my most memorable desserts in history was experienced in Barcelona.  At a trendy neighborhood restaurant, chic customers order fresh orange juice for dessert, served in a wine glass and accompanied by a spoon.  How simple, yet brilliant, to end a meal in such a vibrant, palate-cleansing way.   It is especially memorable made with Honeybells (just coming up from Florida now) or with blood oranges.  I call their flavor "nature's Kool-Aid."  Either way, it's an inspired, one-ingredient dessert, that's hard to beat.

Although breakfast at Norma's is very expensive (there is even Foie Gras French Toast for $34 and The Zillion Dollar Lobster Frittata for $100), if you do as I did, dessert is free.  I drank the last glass of juice from one of my guests.

A Recipe for Electric Orange Juice

This recipe is one ingredient only.  Each large orange yields about 1/2 cup juice so plan accordingly.  Use navel oranges, Honeybells, or large blood oranges. (At this time of year, it's delicious to add the juice of two tangerines.)

8 large oranges

Cut oranges in half and juice.  Pour into wine glasses and serve with a spoon.  Serves 4

Odds and Ends

Hope you all had a wonderful New Year's Day.  Aside from birthdays, and hangovers, and new years wishes, January 1st marks the day in 1943 that my devastatingly handsome father scored the winning touchdown at the Sugar Bowl for the University of Tennessee!  From there he was drafted by the Washington Redskins.  I have the signed football from the Sugar Bowl and the Redskins contract.  My dad was a fullback...and the deal was $5000.00. He didn't play long however, injuries from the war got the better of him.  But we commemorated New Year's day with "Tennessee doughnuts" anyway. My dad would buy the biggest yeast-glazed doughnuts he could find and fry them up in a bit of butter in a frying pan, flattening them with a spatula as he went along.  You ate them like pancakes, with a fork and a knife, and let the sugar, and disappointments, melt away. Yesterday, two requests appeared on my blog for the recipe for the "double-boiler"scrambled eggs that my husband makes me for on New Year's morning. He wrote it down last night and named it "Voluptuous Scrambled Eggs."  The recipe is below, along with a photo of the dish just before I devoured it. As you can see, a tiny jar of caviar goes a long way.   The day unfolded with more delicious things to eat:  Jasmine tea and Christmas cookies at the home of close friends who wanted us to see their sparkling Christmas tree before it was disassembled, and then a late afternoon party at the home of "wedding planner to the stars," Marcy Blum, whose generosity can seriously damage any New Year's resolutions for moderation.  Quarter-pounder crab cakes, prime rib, and champagne for 80!

Today, my best friend (since we were 13) and her daughter (now a rabbi) are coming to town (from Philadelphia and Durham, NC respectively.)  We are celebrating the end of the holiday with one last feast at Norma's -- the restaurant in the Parker-Meridien Hotel famous for its sumptuous breakfasts.

For tonight we'll nibble on lettuce.  May this year be a healthy one for all.

VOLUPTUOUS SCRAMBLED EGGS

9 extra-large eggs 1 Tbsp water 2 Tbsp unsalted butter, one of which is cut into small pieces 1 heaping Tbsp goat cheese, cut into small pieces

Put several inches of water into a smallish pot.  Fit a non-stick frying pan to cover the pot.  Or use a proper double-boiler.  Get the water simmering. Beat the eggs and the water together vigorously.

Put one Tbsp butter into the pan and let it melt completely.  Swirl to make sure entire pan is coated.  Add the eggs.  Keep the water at a slow simmer and have patience.  Eventually the eggs will begin to set.  Stir them slowly and gently with a rubber spatula.  As the eggs begin to firm up, add all the pieces of goat cheese and a few small pieces of butter.  Continue stirring and scraping the bottom of the pan.  Add more butter as the eggs get firmer.  Here’s where you need the most patience: The eggs should firm up as slowly as possible, so you may need to turn the flame down – or even remove the pan from the heat of the water for a moment.  When the eggs are just about set – they will be soft and there will be a bit of liquid eggs in the pan -- add a pinch of salt and stir until the eggs set to your taste.  To my taste, they should be very soft with a small amount of runny eggs.  Spoon them onto a warm plate.  Serves 2 or 3

New Year's Resolution #1

More entertaining at home. Just last night we had an absolutely wonderful dinner at the foodmaven.com's Park Slope apartment to usher in the New Year.  Instead of sitting at his elaborate dining room table, Arthur created a stage set in his living room, dressing the coffee table in gold leaf finery with massive candles and beautiful wine glasses laid upon tapestry.  Although we had agreed upon a simple supper for "a party of five" -- the menu morphed into an extravaganza that began in 2010 and ended sumptuously in 2011!   The evening commenced with "aperitivi"-- a great white wine from Italy (Fiano di Avellino) for me and martinis for the men.  Fleshy black olives, peppadews (tiny sweet and spicy peppers) filled with tuna, salumi, black pepper taralli, the best potato chips, and tiny white anchovies in vinegar.  For Arthur, the menu bridged old and new.  The first course was an old friend -- a beloved pasta with lentils (good luck for the New Year) that tasted meaty and primal.  He said it was the great tomato paste he used!  I also remarked how good the actual malfatti (mixed-shaped) pasta was and Arthur declared it an excellent brand from Italy.  Will find out the name.  Next came a few dishes new to Arthur -- he loves to experiment and was intrigued with a recipe that he adapted from Jamie Oliver.  In the style of cooking I love best, it was radically simple and very, very delicious:  A bone-in, tied lamb shoulder, braised ever so slowly, with lots of fresh rosemary and whole garlic cloves.  It cooked, covered, for hours until it exuded fragrant juices into which we dunked copious amounts of bread.  With that we drank a 1982 Chateau Gloria (a very good year) from our wine cellar.  A bowl of mashed root vegetables with butter and snippets of scallions and parsley added great color and were radically good.  Arthur had called to ask if I had a potato masher, and I was happy to bring the treasured utensil that once belonged to my mother-in-law.  The memories started to mount. 'Round midnight (one of my favorite Dexter Gordon jazz tunes), I was treated to four small birthday cakes, laid upon a large ceramic platter, one in every color.  I blew out many candles and could barely hear my wishes above the fireworks outside.  The beautiful cakes, "made with real buttercream," came from the Ladybird Bakery in Brooklyn. They were delicious.

And as tradition has each year beginning with a bite of cake, another tradition follows.  My birthday breakfast:  A glass of champagne followed by the most delicious scrambled eggs made by my husband in a double boiler so that they become velvety and Hollandaise-like.  He piles them atop a hillock of smoked salmon and often garnishes them with caviar.  As traditions go, it ain't half bad.

Have a happy and healthy.