Light and Hearty: Open Faced Turkey Meatball Sandwiches

Whether you need something health(ier) to serve at a Super Bowl gathering, or just a comforting meal after a tough winter week, these are just the ticket. While these aren't quite as quick as picking up meatball subs from Speedy Linguine down the road, they won't weight you down as much. The recipe makes a giant pot—we'll have them for quite a few meals since they freeze and reheat well. I love how the bread soaks up extra sauce, but when you get tired of meatball sandwiches, you could also serve the meatballs and sauce over greens or pasta.

My friend Laura taught me this method of making meatballs—there really is no need to fry them. They cook up in the sauce in half an hour, absorbing the lovely flavors of tomato and wine while they simmer. Turkey works great; they are completely satisfying without unnecessary fat. I also added a bit of ground buffalo since they were selling it at the butcher counter, but you can make these all-turkey, or mix turkey and beef or pork or lamb. Mixing the meatball mixture by hand really is best—it might be a good time to take off (and clean!) any rings you're wearing rather than filling all their creases with raw meat. (Yum!)


You could make this with homemade sauce if you've got it around, but a jar of your favorite brand works as a great base for this quick doctored up version. If you're really pressed for time, just use the jarred stuff, making sure it's really simmering before you add the meat.


Open Faced Turkey Meatball Sandwiches
Serves at least four


Doctored Spaghetti Sauce
1 T olive oil
1 onion, chopped
1 cup mushrooms, sliced
1 T tomato paste
2 cloves garlic, sliced
1/2 tsp each dried oregano and basil
1/3 bottle dry red wine
1 can diced tomatoes
2 jars spaghetti sauce (I like Barilla)

Saute onions in olive oil in large dutch oven a minute or two. Add mushrooms, saute until onions become translucent. Add tomato paste, stir and let caramelize slightly. Add garlic, oregano and basil, and use wine to deglaze, scraping bits from the bottom of the pan. Add tomatoes and spaghetti sauce, stir and let simmer 20 minutes while you make meatballs.

Light Meatballs
1 lb ground turkey
1/2 lb ground buffalo
3/4 cup panko or breadcrumbs
1/4 cup grated hard cheese (romano is good)
1 egg, beaten
2 cloves garlic, chopped
herbs—a teaspoon total: try basil, oregano, thyme, fennel seed
salt and pepper
Doctored spaghetti sauce: use recipe above, or do however you like it.

In a large bowl, gently mix all ingredients above (except sauce) with your hands. Try not to overmix. Roll lightly in your hands to form small balls, do not squeeze together too much. Collect meatballs on tray, cookie sheet, or cutting board as you complete them. Add to simmering sauce. Bring sauce to a bubble. Simmer uncovered for 30 minutes, stirring twice. Check one to make sure meatballs are cooked through before serving. Add salt and pepper to taste.

For sandwiches:
1 baby baguette or hoagie roll per person
Meatballs in sauce
Parmagian or Romano for grating.

Slice bread in half, removing some of the bread filling in each half if you desire. Ladle meatballs and sauce onto each bread half. Top with freshly grated cheese. Serve with fork and knife.

Family Heirloom: Secret-Ingredient Oatmeal Cookies

We have a new favorite person in our family. Meet my niece, Molly! She's pretty cute, right?


Four generations gathered in St. Louis to admire her last week. In between the feeding and playing and rocking to sleep, our talk turned to recipes.

I love how someone's neighbor's method for bread becomes a family tradition, how the recipe on the back of some box, or in some crumbling local compendium ends up getting passed down as a favorite.


We're lucky to have a family cookbook, compiled some time ago in honor of my great grandmother Malvene and great aunt Myrtle. From meatball stroganoff to "jury wafers" named after a recipe torn from a magazine in a jury-duty waiting room, the collection is both dated and wonderful. I have no idea when the recipe for tomato gelée was last used, let alone the one for eingemachs (a sort of beet marmalade that cooks for an entire day.) I confess, the only thing I've made recently is these oatmeal cookies.


So, Molly, here is my favorite family recipe. Some day, you can make a batch for your mom and dad, and they will tell you how we made them at your house when you were five weeks old. They're so good, we just couldn't stop eating them—chewy with a hint of caramel from the brown sugar and just the right amount of spice. Don't forget the secret ingredient—it's the unsweetened cocoa powder that makes them great.


Feel free to halve the recipe unless you plan on sharing.


Oatmeal Cookies
From the M and M Cookbook

1 cup butter
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup white sugar
1 tsp salt (scant)
2 eggs, beaten
2 tsp vanilla
1/2 tsp cloves
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp baking soda
2 T unsweetened cocoa powder
3 cups oats (not instant)
1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1/2 cup nuts, chopped (optional)
1/2 cup raisins

Mix all ingredients in order in a bowl. Chill at least 1 hour, then make little balls. Bake at 325 for 10-12 minutes, let cool on cookie sheet for a minute before cooling on a rack.

Makes 10 dozen tiny cookies.

Something a little more straightforward: Blood orange grain salad.

I'll come out and say it in explicit terms: I hate winter. I hate being cold, I hate that the MTA freaks right the hell out the second there is a drop of precipitation, I hate hat hair, I hate that I appear to return to my primordial reptile roots (or, at least, my skin does) as soon as the central heating gets turned on. Hate.

I love, however, Winter citrus. And while it is not an acceptable substitute for Spring, this California dreamer accepts that sometimes, it is as good as it gets. And, frankly, one could do a lot worse than this seasonal bounty--Tangerines! Meyer lemons! Blood oranges! Little puffs of sunshine in an otherwise bleak and depressing season!

I took my first real stand against Winter this past weekend, when I got my hands on some blood oranges. I had gotten it into my head to make something involving tempeh (pulled pork had been on the previous night's menu, and I was feeling a need to be a bit more virtuous), but wanted to veer away from my traditional Mirin-soy glaze; I wanted something comforting, something almost autumnal, but still bright and brisk. Sort of the culinary equivalent of walking in the deep woods on a crisp but sunny day. So, I snagged some radiant, bloody beauties, some sprouts and some squash, and decided to see what sort of random alchemy I could muster in my kitchen.



I ended up making a warm grain salad with a blood-orange, maple syrup and white balsamic glaze; it worked beautifully upon serving, the dressing's sweetness offset perfectly offset by the delightful tang of some soft, creamy goat's cheese. I will fully admit, however, that it lost a little something when consumed as the next day's lunch--the goat's cheese is vital to the dish really achieving on a flavor level (it really wakes up the citrus), and I didn't pack any. I hope to remedy that next time I make this--I would really like the dressing to stand on its own. My suspicion is that this can be fixed by changing up the acid; I will probably use a dark balsamic next time, as opposed to a fig-infused white balsamic, possibly mixed with a little bit of cider vinegar for kick. A bit of lemon juice might not go terribly amiss, either.

Don't let my conjectures put you off this recipe, however--for an experiment, I was happy with it--its soft, complex sweetness sated the cravings my body was experiencing for something warm and comforting, and it cheered me up immeasurably with its sunny charm. I hope it will do the same for you!

Recipe has been adjusted to reflect my musings.

Blood orange tempeh and kamut salad

DRESSING:
1/2 c maple syrup
Juice of 3 blood oranges
1/3 c olive oil
1/2 c balsamic vinegar (at this point, i'd recommend avoiding anything fruit-infused or of the white balsamic variety)
salt
1 tbsp fresh thyme

1 packet tempeh

1 butternut squash, peeled and cut into 1/8" cubes
2-3 red onions, peeled and cut into eighths
8 oz brussels sprouts, outer leaves removed, quartered
1/4 c dried cranberries

1c kamut
3c water

1. Preheat your oven to 350;make the dressing: combine maple syrup, orange juice, olive oil, balsamic vinegar and salt.
2. Place squash, onion, and sprouts in a roasting dish. Add 1/3 dressing. Cover with foil and roast for 30min. Remove the foil after 30 min, then continue to roast until squash is nice and soft
3. Prepare the kamut as per packet directions (typically 3 parts liquid to 1 part grain).
4. Cut tempeh into 1" cubes. In a skillet, heat some olive oil and fry the tempeh over medium-high heat until golden brown. Reduce the heat and add 1/3 dressing, stirring until the liquid is nice and syrupy.
   
5. Add thyme to final 1/3 of dressing
6. Combine tempeh, vegetables, kamut, and cranberries in a large bowl with remaining 1/3 dressing. Toss well.
7. Serve with a garnish of goat's cheese!

Just Let Go: Walk Away Roast Chicken

Shiv and I have started a recipe index for Pithy and Cleaver—the link is on your right. We've been busy in our tiny New York kitchens and there's quite a list of things we've cooked! Apparently we like dessert a little. We've tried out all kinds of recipes for vegetables. And despite Shiv's protests that she's afraid of poultry, we've cooked up quite a few birds for P&C.


But I've been holding out on you, and I'm going to make it up to you now. This recipe is my go-to, the chicken recipe that all others must be measured by. It's easy. No trussing, no fussing, no basting, no worrying. And it's delicious. Make it for a date, make it for your roommates, banish all fear of cooking when you see how easy this is to master. Then you can buy the Zuni cookbook, if you like, but you just might stick with this method, courtesy of Boston chef Gordon Hamersley.

Here's the main trick. Rub the chicken all over with a paste made from herbs, mustard, and olive oil. Throw it in a pan on a bed of root vegetables (Hamersley calls for potatoes and onions, but I like to add yams and whole heads of garlic.) You don't need to tie it up, you don't need to say a prayer, just throw it in the oven and come back an hour and a quarter later. The bird takes care of itself, and the potatoes benefit from the lovely juices.


Too simple, you say? Well, ok. Two things to keep in mind. First of all, don't skimp on the chicken. Buy a small fresh one, ideally organic and not pumped up with all kinds of hormones. If you're feeding a crowd, do two small chickens! They'll cook more evenly and not dry out, and they're more likely to be flavorful to begin with. I got this lovely white plume Bobo chicken from Jeffrey the butcher (feet on! ack!), though I've also gotten flavorful antibiotic free chickens from the farmer's market, too.

Second, if you happen to have the chicken a day early and you want to improve the flavor even more, dry the chicken thoroughly with paper towels and toss some kosher salt on the outside. It's really not hard to do, and does make a difference. Apparently the salt draws moisture from the meat which is then reabsorbed, effectively brining the chicken without waterlogging it. If you don't have time, skip it. Hamersley's original recipe doesn't call for it anyway. If you don't do this, add a little salt and pepper to the mustard paste. When you're all done, take the lemons out and cook the carcass for stock!


Walk Away Roast Chicken, salted Zuni Style
Adapted from Gordon Hamersley and Judy Rodgers
serves three, depending on the size of your chicken

3/4 teaspoon kosher or sea salt
freshly ground pepper
1 whole roasting chicken (about 3-1/2 lb.)
2 Tbs. olive oil
2 Tbs. Dijon-style mustard
1 tsp. dried thyme (or 1 Tbs. fresh, chopped)
1 tsp. dried rosemary (or 1 Tbs. fresh, chopped)
1 lemon, halved
1 small onion, cut into thick chunks
2 small new potatoes, halved but not peeled
2 yams, peeled and cut into chunks
2 heads garlic, optional
1/2 cup water, stock or wine if you want to make gravy

A day ahead, remove any fat or innards inside the chicken. Pat chicken dry with paper towels—if it's moist, it will steam. Place on a platter or dish. Sprinkle the kosher salt over the chicken and add ground pepper. Season the thick sections a little more heavily than the skinny ankles and wings. Cover loosely and refrigerate. Check the chicken the day you want to cook it, you may want to dry it with some paper towels.

When you're ready to cook, heat the oven to 375°F. In a small bowl, combine 1 Tbs. of the olive oil, the mustard, thyme, and rosemary. Squeeze the juice from one lemon half into the herb mixture; squeeze the juice from the other half into a small bowl and reserve. Reserve the squeezed lemon halves. Spoon the herb mixture over the chicken, rubbing to coat the bird thoroughly. Put the reserved lemon halves inside the chicken's cavity.

Put the vegetables in a roasting pan. If you're using garlic heads, cut the top quarter-inch off the head, exposing the cloves. Season the vegetables with salt and pepper (and a little additional rosemary, if you like, and toss them with the remaining 1 Tbs. olive oil. Scatter the ingredients around the pan to make room in the center for the chicken.

Put the chicken in the pan, breast side up. Cook until the meat is tender and the juices run clear at the thigh, 1–1/4 to 1-1/2 hours. By this time, the potatoes and onions should be tender. Check the temperature of the chicken with a meat thermometer—it should measure 165 degrees at the thigh.

You can serve straight from the pan after five minutes of letting the bird rest, or fancy it up as follows: transfer the vegetables to a serving platter. Pour the juices from inside the chicken's cavity into the roasting pan and transfer the chicken to a cutting board and let it rest. Spoon off and discard as much fat as possible from the juices in the roasting pan or separate with a gravy strainer. Set the pan with the juices over medium-low heat and pour in the reserved lemon juice along with 1/2 cup water, stock, or wine. Bring to a boil, scraping up the browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Cut the chicken into pieces. Pour the pan juices over the chicken and serve.

Danger omelet: The Spanish tortilla

Much like learning the tango, the first attempt at the eggy, starchy Spanish tortilla is not for the faint of heart. Deceptively simple, it requires strong arms, a steady hand, and a certain appreciation for danger. Simply put, it's the kind of harebrained business that I simply cannot resist trying on a schoolnight.

My interest in eggs is a recent development, and I've spent the last year cultivating it; though Bench is the household's undisputed King of the Scrambled, I must say I've become quite the glad hand at poaching, and I have been feeling of late that I am ready to step up my game. Omelets seemed like a sensible next step, moreso when I discovered that attempting the right kind of omelet presented the very real possibility of completely trashing my kitchen. That kind of a disclaimer is like waving a red flag in front of me; resistance is futile. The description that did me in is by Ximena at Lobstersquad:

"(T)ortillas require nerves of steel. Blood must be summoned, upper lip stiffened, oven mitts worn, and prayers said. Please understand that the Italian method of starting on the stove top and ending under the grill is strictly for little girls. Likewise the French sissified folding thing."

I mean, really--how's a girl like me supposed to resist a description like that?



To my chagrin (and Bench's delight), the tortilla was not quite as much of a production as I'd feared. Yes, it required flipping. And yes, it had a truly terrifying amount of oil in it. But, the prodigious quantity of olive oil involved kept everything well-lubricated and unstuck, which was a godsend when flipping the incredibly heavy cast-iron skillet over during the tortilla-turning process (plus a goodly amount of it drains off before you mix it in with the eggs).

Though success is, in fact, dependent upon truly posting one's courage to the sticking place (hesitate for a second, and you're screwed), at the end of the day it is a potato omelet: no more, no less. I assure you: if I can do this, you can do this. And once you have, it's a tremendous trick to have up your sleeve--its versatility means you can pull it out for just about any meal; plus, it's excellent cold, so you can make it ahead of time. Smother it with ketchup for a fantastic hangover breakfast, or pair it with a salad for a delicious light meal.



I leave you with these pieces of advice:

1. Invest in oven mitts.
2. Be sure to have lots of paper towels on hand to drain the oil off the potatoes
3. Be brave! You can totally do this.
   

Spanish tortilla (Tortilla de patates)

1-1.5 lbs medium-sized waxy red or white potatoes, peeled
1 medium-sized white or Spanish onion
6 eggs
2 tbsp milk or half and half
tons and tons and tons of olive oil (somewhere around 1/2-3/4 cup)

1. Cut each potato into quarters, and then slice thinly (contrary to popular belief, you don't actually need a mandoline, though I'm sure it helps). Place in a towel-lined colander to drain a little.
2. Meanwhile, quarter and thinly slice the onion as well.
3. In a heavy, large skillet, heat all but two tablespoons of the oil at medium-high heat. Add the potatoes, drop the heat to medium-low, and cook (stirring occasionally) until just tender, about 7 minutes. Add a bit of salt and pepper.
   
4. Add the onions, and keep cooking until everything is soft, about 10-15 more minutes.
5. Using a slotted spoon, scoop the potato mixture on to a baking sheet that has been lined with paper towels to drain. Reserve the oil that remains in the pan for later use.
6. In a large bowl, whisk the eggs and milk together with a bit of salt. Add the potato mixture, mashing it about slightly to break up the potatoes a bit. Let this mixture sit for about ten minutes.
7. Meanwhile! Take the 2 tbsp of oil you set aside earlier and put it in a heavy, 10" skillet (I used my cast iron--I recommend you do the same). Keep at medium high heat until it just starts to smoke. Pour the egg/potato mixture into the pan and flatten it with a spatula until the top is more or less level. Reduce heat to medium-low and cook, shaking the pan and running around the edges with a small spatula, until the top has started to set, 6-10 minutes.
8. Take a rimless plate that is larger than the pan, place it face down on top of the pan. Using oven mitts, flip it over quickly and turn out the omelet onto the plate. Then, replace the pan on the stove and gently slide the tortilla, uncooked side down, back into the pan. Reduce the heat to VERY low and keep cooking until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, about 3 more minutes.
   

A Ploy for Mae Ploy: Sweet Chili Sauce Lettuce Wraps

A couple of years ago, I was out west on vacation when I got an excited call from Virginia. Matt was at his friend Ramon's, and just had to tell me. Ramon made these awesome vegetables! They were really awesome! He used some really awesome sauce!

Luckily in his enthusiastic state he found out the same of said awesome sauce, and our love affair with Mae Ploy sweet chili sauce began. Thanks to Ramon, chili sauce veggies are a standard weeknight dinner around our place. Sometimes I add rice noodles and bits of mango, sometimes it's just a big mess of eggplant in a wok. It sort of doesn't matter, you could drink this stuff out of the jar. It's quite sweet and not that spicy, great with pork or chicken and a squeeze of lime. The discussion usually goes roughly like this:
Me: "Chili sauce for dinner?"
Matt: "Awesome!"
The rest of the ingredients don't really interest him.


This particular iteration was a winner, though. I was craving a big pile of colorful veggies wrapped in lettuce. I also wanted to try out a technique for chicken recommended by Jaden of Steamy Kitchen. Marinating chunks of chicken in cornstarch and egg white improves the texture and makes a light coating on the chicken bites while thickening the stir fry sauce. I used good organic chicken thighs, some ripe red peppers and crispy green beans, and plenty of chopped scallions, but you could adapt the recipe for whatever looks good at the market. Just make sure to get real Mae Ploy, the other brands aren't nearly as good.

One warning: this is not really dinner party food unless you're going super casual. It's a bit sloppy, and the veggies have a way of slithering out of their lettuce pockets.


Sweet Chili Sauce Lettuce Wraps
serves 2 generously

1 lb boneless skinless chicken thighs
2 teaspoons cornstarch
1 egg white
canola or other flavorless oil
1 lb green beans, ends removed
1 zucchini
1 cup mushrooms
2 red bell peppers
3 scallions
1 tangerine
1 teaspoon fish sauce
1 teaspoon soy sauce
1 teaspoon prepared lemongrass—you can buy it in a jar!
1/4 cup Mae Ploy brand sweet chili sauce
1/2 teaspoon Sriracha
Romaine or butter lettuce leaves (6 whole leaves)
1/2 lime, squeezed plus lime wedges for serving

Wash lettuce leaves and leave intact, drying on paper towels. Cut chicken into 1 inch cubes, place in bowl. Add egg white and cornstarch, stir. Let marinate 20 or 30 minutes in the fridge while you prepare vegetables. Slice green beans, mushrooms, zucchini, peppers, and scallions for stir fry. Do not mix. Remove peel from tangerine and slice into bite size pieces, removing seeds.

In a wok or frying pan, saute green beans in a bit of oil over medium heat, stirring occasionally until beans begin to wrinkle. Remove beans from pan. Add mushrooms and zucchini to pan, adding oil if pan is dry. Add fish sauce and soy sauce, saute, stirring occasionally, until vegetables have lost their liquid.

Meanwhile, heat another wok and add oil. When wok sizzles, add chicken. Let cook 2 minutes without disturbing. Add lemongrass. Turn and stir, cook a few minutes more. Add red peppers to vegetable pan (where the mushrooms are), cook over low heat while you continue to cook chicken in hot wok. Add half of the chili sauce to the chicken. When chicken is fully cooked (check a piece), add scallions, tangerine, and all vegetables to the wok. Add remaining chili sauce and Sriracha. Stir and make sure everything is warm. Serve on lettuce leaves with limes, extra Sriracha, and lots of napkins.

Maintain, maintain, maintain: Seasoning your cast iron pans

I had the incredible good fortune yesterday to score a 10" cast iron skillet for $5. No lie. I was on the prowl for one because I've got it into my head to make a Tortilla Espanola for dinner Monday night, and virtually every recipe I've come across has been adamant in specifying that if you hope to get out of the tortilla alive, you need to cook it in a cast iron skillet. Not being one to flout authority, I figured I'd bite the bullet and heed their advice.

The pan I got advertised itself as pre-seasoned; I didn't believe it for one second, and wasn't going to be satisfied until I'd seasoned it myself. The seasoning of pans is one of those topics where there are as many opinions are there are chefs. Some advocate oiling the pan and then heating it on the stovetop; others filling it with a few tablespoons of lard and baking it at 500 degrees until it's run dry. I prefer a simpler, less scary method:

1. Preheat your oven to 350
2. Oil the pan using vegetable shortening (you could use lard, too, I suppose. Just use something that's unlikely to go rancid). Lube it up generously, but wipe away any obvious excess.
3. Put a rimmed cookie sheet or some cleverly folded foil at the bottom of your oven to catch any drippings
4. Place your pan in the oven, upside down, over the cookie sheet/foil and bake it for about an hour. Remove from the oven and let cool thoroughly. Repeat as necessary.
   

That's it! Some purists would argue that you need to repeat this process after every use of the pan; I'm not sure I've ever met anyone who has that kind of time. In my opinion, you can get away with reseasoning every couple of months, particularly if you use your pan to cook things with a decent amount of fat on them (every bit of grease helps in keeping your pan happy!).

Take care of your pan, and it will take care of you!

Spiced Hot Cocoa Rice Pudding

Winter is tricky. It's freeze-your-face-off cold, and the days are short and dark. It's enough to make anyone crave comfort food. On the other hand, we're all trying to eat a little healthier.

This recipe may not be totally guilt free, but it's pretty impressive on that front. And so rich tasting you only need a few bites. As in risotto, the rice gives off velvety starch, thickening the pudding on its own, with the help of creamy nonfat yogurt. Considering it doesn't call for eggs or cream or even 2% milk, it came out shockingly rich and fudgy, like Mexican hot cocoa frozen in time. No one would ever guess how light it really is.

For me, though, if you're going to eat chocolate, it should really be darker. This pudding lacked the bitter edge of serious chocolate. If you're a milk chocolate fan, then this recipe is for you. But if you like your chocolate intense and deep, consider using really good (expensive) and truly dark chocolate—maybe with a 75% cocoa content. I bet it would be nice with a bit of brewed (decaf) espresso thrown in, too. Yum. For Valentine's day, perhaps?


Or go the other way. It's kind of sad to lose the lovely simplicity of rice pudding by throwing chocolate into the mix. Chocolate overshadows the custardy, nutmeggy flavor of classic rice pudding, to the point where the nubby texture of rice seems out of place. I can't guarantee that this pudding will be perfect without the chocolate, but it's an interesting method to start with. Try dialing back the ginger and increasing the nutmeg, adding raisins, orange zest, etc. Let me know how it goes!


Spiced Hot Cocoa Rice Pudding
Adapted from Martha Stewart
Serves 4

1 1/2 to 2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
3 tablespoons sugar
Pinch of coarse salt
1 vanilla bean
3 1/2 cups skim milk
1/2 tablespoon unsalted butter
1/2 cup Arborio rice
2 teaspoons ground ginger
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 pinch nutmeg
1 tablespoon Grand Marnier
1 oz bittersweet chocolate, chopped, or chips
1/4 cup plain nonfat yogurt, preferably Greek-style

1. Make the pudding: Whisk together cocoa powder, sugar, salt, and milk in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Split vanilla bean and scrape into saucepan, add bean too. Bring to a simmer; remove from heat.

2. Melt butter in a medium saucepan over low-medium heat. I love using enameled cast iron for this sort of thing. Add rice; toast, stirring constantly, until edges are translucent, 1 to 2 minutes. Add hot milk mixture; bring to a simmer, stirring occasionally. Reduce heat; simmer gently, stirring occasionally, until rice is tender and has absorbed most of the liquid, about 20 minutes. Add ginger and cinnamon. Cook another 10 minutes or so. If rice is not tender and has already absorbed the liquid, you can add a little more milk or water (or brewed coffee!) and let it absorb the way you do with risotto. Keep in mind that pudding will thicken as it cools—leave it a little loose and liquidy.

3. Remove from heat and remove vanilla bean. Add liquor and chocolate; stir until chocolate has melted. Stir in yogurt. Pour into a serving bowl or individual dessert bowls. Cover and refrigerate until cold, about 2 hours. Top with light whipped cream or more greek yogurt. Don't tell anyone it's healthy.

Slow Cooker Lamb and Lentil Soup

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At Fromaggio in Essex Market, I spied a box of French Puy lentils for eight dollars. Seriously? Eight dollars for lentils? I knew if I brought them home Matt would be unimpressed. Unless, of course, they sprouted into a magic beanstalk.

Luckily, I live near a little Indian market with shelves piled with inexpensive spices (amchoor powder, anyone?) and dried goods. Squelching my desire for a collection of curry powders and mango pickles, I scored a cheaper bag of pretty green french lentils and headed home to look at recipes.

Maybe it's just me, but I'm stingy with my homemade stock. We can only store a few containers of it in our teeny freezer, and I hate to be caught without any. It's hard to deem an unknown recipe stock-worthy. (Remember Elaine carefully budgeting her sponges on Seinfeld? It's like that...sort of.) So I was pleased to realize I could make a huge pot of hearty lentil soup while still saving some stock for a winter cold. I used lamb to deepen the flavor of the tomato broth, and spiked it with a little sake (sherry would work great if you have it.)


In a flash of inspiration before I served this up, I added a bit of homemade pesto to the pot. I save this in ice cube-sized portions in the freezer, and it deepened the flavor nicely.

I hate to give exact times in a recipe for slow cookers. You alone know how hot or slow your machine cooks, and how mushy you like your lentils. In my six-quart Cuisinart slow cooker, this took a long time. You could probably speed it up by cranking up the heat. Or just go about your business and let it cook all night and the next day unsupervised. That's the beauty of these things.


Slow Cooker Lamb and Lentil Soup
Serves at least 4 with leftovers

2 lamb shoulder chops with bone or about 1 pound other stew meat
1 strip bacon, chopped roughly
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
1 cup chopped mushrooms
1 clove garlic, chopped roughly
3 carrots, chopped
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1 teaspoon harissa (optional)
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1/2 teaspoon dried basil or a bunch of fresh basil leaves if you have them
1/2 teaspoon oregano
freshly ground pepper
1 28-oz can whole tomatoes with liquid
3 cups chicken or turkey stock
2 teaspoons sherry or sake or wine
1 cup green lentils
2 tablespoons prepared pesto
Pasta (corkscrews or shells are good)
grated cheese for serving
Salt and pepper

Place first twelve ingredients in the slow cooker. Pour tomatoes over. Fill empty can with water and add that water to slow cooker as well. Add stock, sherry or sake or wine, and lentils, stir, leaving meat on the bottom of the pan. Cook on high one to two hours, depending how hot your slow cooker is. Turn to low and cook at least 8 hours. Check lentils and carrots at this point. If they seem too crisp to you, keep cooking. When ready to serve, remove meat from bones and discard bones. If you like, whir this for thirty seconds with an immersion blender to thicken the broth, or blend a few ladlesfull in a food processor. Leave the rest chunky. Stir in the pesto. Boil water on the stovetop and prepare pasta according to package instructions, a large handful per person is plenty. Place pasta in bowls and ladle soup over, garnishing generously with grated cheese, salt, and freshly ground pepper.