I don’t particularly care for them. I like a good roasted red pepper cream sauce sloshed over some pasta, I think they are super pretty cut into strips and fanned out on a tray of crudités, but I’m never one to actuallyeatthem from said tray.
I do, however, make an exception when for fajitas. Green bell peppers and red onions snuggle up in a tortilla so nicely with well-seasoned chicken, perhaps some cheese, and a healthy dollop of sour cream. I used to buy those little packets of fajita seasoning, but I found I never used it all in one go. Why accumulate half-used packets of seasoning in the pantry when I could just make my own?
Also, what better time to do a glitzy little photo shoot for my most recent kitchen obsession? THESE. My beautiful spice jars. I recently ordered an assortment of jars to make my spice and herb rack the prettiest little thing you’ve ever seen, and I still can’t fully express my delight. I know, I know: spices last longer if they are protected from the light. But my kitchen is a cave for 18 hours a day anyway. Plus, they are sooooo pretty!
Those of you who know me well know I live by lists. Lists of lists. They help me stay focused, complete teeny tasks I mightwould definitely otherwise forget were they not written down. My BFA in stage management was, in large part, composed of and achievedby making calendars, schedules, and lists.
The little wedding cake (ha) I’m making sure feels a lot closer from this side of my trip home than it did from the other. I am not a professional baker and therefore do not have a mass of trusty recipes and finely honed techniques in my pocket ready to be whipped out a few days before the wedding. With that in mind, I’m spending much of my time over the next ten weeks (gulp) testing recipes, practicing decorating techniques, adapting recipes I like to high altitude (just in case I wasn’t nervous enough about how the cakes will turn out), and ensuring that I’ll have everything I need to I fly across the continent to take over my mother’s kitchen for several days of cake madness.
But hey, I have a plan. And for you fellow list-aholics – you know who you are – I couldn’t help but share.
If you’ve never spent time in Southwest Ohio, you might be surprised to know that it is home to some pretty unique foods. Aside from standard midwestern fare, not only one but two chains of restaurants devoted to Cincinnati chili speckle the region, each of which has ardent followers who flock there for liquid-y chili served atop spaghetti and under a mountain of cheddar cheese.
As someone who grew up in the Southwest, chili means something very different to me. The local fare I was far more enthusiastic about was the delectable dessert served at Graeter’s Ice Cream. Sold both in ice cream parlours and also by the pint at area grocery stores, Graeter’s features seasonal flavors amongst a collection of favorites, and one of their most beloved varieties is Blackberry Chip.
I’ve been scheming to invest in an ice cream machine for the last couple of years, and I finally took the plunge earlier this summer and got one. Frivolous? Perhaps. Necessary? Certainly not. But utterly worth it? Ab.So.Lutely.
This ice cream features one of my favorite tastes of summer: blackberries! Sweet but tart, these berries not only lend their lovely flavor to the ice cream but also provide their spectacular hue. The whole berry doesn’t end up in the final ice cream, just the juice, but with fresh berries you’ll end up with plenty of blackberry flavor.
Landing in North Carolina, and dragging luggage out of the airport in the peak of summer, is always rather shocking after several days in the cool, dry air of southwest Colorado. Sure, my hometown is hot during the day at this time of year too, but no matter what temperature the mercury hits while the sun is up, the air cools each night jeans-and-sweatshirt weather.
Every trip to Colorado seems too short, but sometimes, I get to bring little tastes of home back with me. And this time, it’s some tasty homemade jerky!
I feel just a teensy bit ridiculous about this post.
This post is about a sandwich I made.
Not a pretty dessert, not an elaborate entree: a sandwich.
But this is real life and sometimes in real life, I need a sandwich. And since this one was phenomenally good, I thought you might need this sandwich also.
This sandwich is inspired by one I enjoyed on a recent trip to a small town in the rolling mountains of Western North Carolina. My friend Abbe and I each ordered a turkey-gouda panini, which was literally just turkey and gouda – a tasty combo on its own – but we both agreed that it might be even better with… something. We just weren’t sure what.
The various food blogs and aggregates I browse are alight with red, white, and blue this week. And it’s no surprise! What better way to celebrate America’s Independence Day than with some desserts that feature fresh fruit that coordinates so well with Old Glory? You probably already have your plans in place for whatever festivities await you today, but if you don’t, get out your baking gear and try this one.
These little desserts are based on a recipe out of the Joy the Baker Cookbook. I’ve mentioned before that the blog of the same name is one of my favorites to follow, and I was thrilled to finally get my hands on her cookbook. I find it inspiring that someone who is not classically trained in culinary technique, photography, or writing has created such a mind-blowingly successful blog and now has a published book to show for it.
It’s the first of many recipes in the book I’m eager to try.
Colorado doesn’t have to deal with hurricanes. Earthquakes there are rare. Only the occasional tornado finds its way to the ground in the eastern half of the state.
But we do have wildfire.
Well over half of the Centennial State is composed of thick forests, but they are very unlike the humid, deciduous forests that blanket the majority of the Eastern United States. Nearly every summer, odds are good that in some part of the state, plumes of smoke will rise on the horizon at one point or another. My childhood summer memories are speckled with forest fires, some that looked merely like a faint haze in the distance, and others whose flames were visible from my bedroom window.
Each summer brings fire, but some years are worse — far worse — and this is certainly one of them. Following a winter of little snow and a very dry spring, even the tiniest sparks have ignited blazes across the state, many of them near (and advancing into) major population centers. It’s only June, and already the skies are thick with smoke, thousands of acres have burned, and hundreds of families have lost their homes.
Yet while much is lost, the communities affected by these fires band together to protect what they can and to reach out to evacuees, firefighters, and relief workers. Though I am not currently a resident of Colorado, it will always be my home and I still want to help as best I can from 2,000 miles away.
One particularly incredible means of assistance has been created by a coalition of Colorado design businesses: Wildfire Tees. These designers and artists have put together some stellar t-shirts to remember this summer’s devastating fires, and all the proceeds from their sales will go both toward immediate fire relief and toward the arduous rebuilding that lies ahead. I’m hugely inspired by these individuals, who are using the artistic skills and resources they know best to make an impact in this urgent cause while at the same time are providing an easy avenue for others to make an impact, too.
We live in a big world and are faced with many crises, but with each act of generosity toward a neighbor in need, we create a better world for everyone. If you’re able, I encourage you to buy a tee or to support the efforts to fight the Colorado wildfires in whatever manner you can. You can find many ways to help at HelpColoradoNow.org, as well as at the Denver Post. At the very least, send your rain and rainy (though not lightning-y) thoughts toward Colorado. It could sure use them.
So I bought a crème brûlée torch, of course. And a tiny can of butane. And I waited for the vanilla bean to turn some humble white sugar into an aromatic miracle so that I could finally make this decadent, delicate dessert.
Just to make sure we’re all on the same page: crème brûlée is somewhere between a custard and a pudding, traditionally served in small ramekins, but the true delight is in the thin layer of caramelized sugar that floats on the top of each ramekin.
You see that garlic? I grew that garlic! Me and eight months of nature magic, that is.
When I scored a plot on my community garden, I was excited for the salad greens, the squash, all the fresh goodies. But one of my major goals was to learn to grow some of the staples and storage goods that I pull off the shelf before anything else when it’s time to make a meal. Garlic is, perhaps, the poster child of that concept: I mince up at least a clove or two in just about everything.
One of the vendors at the farmers market grows copious amounts of garlic, selling the trimmed and cured heads by the pound during the summer and fall, so I picked his brain one day last September about planting garlic myself. Armed with new knowledge and a few heads of garlic, I spent a crisp October morning starting what would become a significant test of patience.
Most garlic is grown by planting a single clove for each head you hope to produce. Planted in the fall, garlic grows slowly throughout the winter. It’s a remarkably hearty plant. When most of the garden plots around mine were dormant or inhabited only by kale, my perky little garlic plants stood tall and leafy.
This is super fast. This has SIX ingredients. Four of them are already in your kitchen. If they aren’t, we need to talk about essentials, people.
And these are everywhere!
Zucchini is an amazing vegetable. Here, it’s in season from late April to early November. It plays well in dishes of most cuisines, roasts like a dream, sautés easily, and makes a mean one of these.
But this is my all-time favorite way to feature this versatile squash.
