Bucatini with Lemon Cream Sauce and Roasted Kale

I’ve been thinking about fate a lot recently. Ever since that period in my life where I spent long hours poring over the words of Waiting for Godot and connecting with Beckett’s existential storylines I’ve always felt a certain hesitation to believe in that thing we call destiny. Instead I’ve opted for the viewpoint that the course of my life and the meaning derived from that comes directly from the decisions that I alone make or have made. But now, more than ever before, I find myself thinking that maybe things do just happen because they were meant to happen. I’m wondering if “right place, right time” and “it will happen when you least expect it” is a way to put meaning to a predetermined course.

It is without a doubt that my current readings have been influencing my thoughts. Many who know me are aware that I happen to be quite the Murakami fan and I’ve already quoted him at least once here before. I just finished reading The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and it has easily become my favorite of his books to date. The book also happens to touch on the subject of fate quite a bit. There is one part where a character remarks, “All these inexplicable events that have occurred in my life so far… it’s as though they were all ingeniously programmed from the start for the very purpose of bringing me here, where I am today… I feel as if my every move is being controlled by some kind of incredibly long arm that’s reaching out from somewhere far away, and that my life has been nothing more than a convenient passageway for all these things moving through it.” Almost throughout the entire novel the characters, deep in thought, observe their current state as the domino-effect outcome of many life events that have been carefully orchestrated by the cosmos.

I’ve by no means convinced myself of one philosophy or another and have for the time being mostly hopped aboard the “screw it, I don’t have time to think about this” train. Unfortunately this gives me no way to explain why I just so happened to have all but one ingredient for the very dish I was just so happening to be craving yesterday. But for now I’m okay with ignoring this question and just being happy that it made my weekend grocery shopping trip that much easier.

This may very well be my favorite pasta dish yet. The first time I made it, the many unconventional steps of the process felt so wrong. Like throwing half of a lemon – peel, seeds, and all – into a blender with a raw egg and heavy cream. Yeah, I could definitely say I’d never done that before. But before I knew it I had the easiest and most luscious and creamy sauce I’d ever seen before me. And wait, all I had to do was pour it over hot pasta and mix it with some roasted kale? It’s comforting without being cloying, great on its own, but also killer with any sort of seafood, and believe me, this is definitely one of those scenarios where “more than the sum of its parts” comes into play. Maybe the world planned for me to make this over the weekend, or maybe I just keep a well-stocked fridge. But once I was eating, I couldn’t have cared less.

Bucatini with Lemon Cream Sauce and Roasted Kale

Served 4-6

From Tara O’Brady’s Seven Spoons Cookbook

2 bunches of kale, cleaned, de-stemmed, and roughly torn into pieces

½ lemon

¼ cup olive oil plus extra for the kale

1 egg

½ cup heavy cream

1 cup shredded parmesan cheese

salt and pepper

1 lb. bucatini pasta (use linguine if you can’t find bucatini)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Divide the kale between 2 sheet trays. Drizzle with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Toss the leaves of kale with the oil until well coated. Roast in the oven for 15 minutes, tossing a few times in the process. Set aside once roasted.

While the kale cooks brings a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the bucatini, stir, and bring back to a boil. Cook until al dente according to package instructions.

Meanwhile, make the sauce. Add the lemon (yes the entire half of the lemon including the peel and seeds), the olive oil, raw egg, cream, and parmesan to a blender. Season with a pinch of salt and pepper each. Blend until thick, creamy, and smooth.

 When the pasta is done, set aside 1 cup of the pasta cooking water and then drain the pasta. Return the noodles to the pot with about a quarter of the pasta water. Pour the lemon sauce over the pasta while using tongs to toss and mix the noodles. Alternate this with splashes of the cooking water to thin out the sauce some , as needed. Add in the kale and mix to combine. Taste and add salt if necessary. Serve with cracked pepper and a generous amount of grated parmesan.

Cast-Iron Pan Pizza

Is there ever really an occasion where pizza is not a solution to life’s problems, not an appropriate answer?  I’m struggling to identify that situation. As a celebratory accompaniment, a medium through which optimum catching up occurs, a means of personal expression, an easily reheated feast for one, or the mender of a broken spirit, pizza really is that one food that seems to captivate the universal cravings of the earth regardless of time, place, or condition. If we had to name a food for the ages, the worldwide culinary common denominator, I’m fairly certain that pizza would be just that.

I’ve made it a point to explore the realm of pizza as much as possible in my travels and my home cooking. At one point it used to be about finding the “best” wherever I went but in time I realized that this is an unachievable goal. With the countless varieties, styles, and cultural differences that surround pizza, it is impossible to place pizza on an arbitrary scale of betterness. Instead, I now focus less on picking apart its various aspects and rating them and more on enjoying what makes it unique as a whole and as a cultural creation and the satisfaction I get from it.

I recently learned about this cast-iron skillet pizza in an email I got from Bon Appetít magazine. The descriptions in the recipe alone like "perfect crispy and chewy texture," and "ooey, gooey, and just the right amount of messy," were enough to sell me on it.

The pizza lived up to all of the hype. Its non-recipe sort of format makes it totally customizable for different tastes and it’s crazy easy too, fitting into the “weeknight pizza” genre. A store-bought round of dough is pressed into a blazing hot cast iron pan, on goes a thick layer of tomato sauce and cheese and any topping you desire, though I would try to limit it to 2 or else things start to get a bit busy. The whole pan goes into an even hotter oven and emerges as an awesome thick-crust creation with this ridiculous ring of crispy and caramelized burnt cheese and sauce combo around the edge. And if you're like me, you probably will overdo it on the cheese so it drips to the bottom of the oven and causes smoke detectors to go crazy. It's normal. Knife and fork are optional, enjoyment is inevitable. After all, it is pizza.

Cast Iron Pan Pizza

Serves 4

Adapted from Bon Appetít Magazine

1 1-lb store-bought pizza dough ball

1 8oz can tomato sauce

1 Tsp. dried parsley flakes

½ tsp. dried oregano

1 tsp. salt

¼ tsp. garlic powder

olive oil

2-3 cups grated cheese (I used a combo of fontina and swiss)

A dollop of honey mixed with a good pinch of red chili flakes, thinned out with a little water.

A handful of basil leaves and grated parmesan

Toppings of your choice – I used cherry tomatoes and asparagus but any of your favorites would be great.

Preheat your oven to 525 degrees or as hot as it will go. Meanwhile combine your tomato sauce, parsley, oregano, salt, and garlic powder in a small bowl. Heat a 9-12 inch cast iron skillet over medium-high. The bigger the pan, the thinner and crispier your crust will be. Once it’s good and hot, sprinkle a little flour on the bottom of the pan and press in your pizza dough. Using a towel to hold the handle with one hand, carefully use your other hand or a spoon to press the dough up the sides of the pan.

Brush the dough with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. After a few minutes it should start to bubble. Spoon on as much tomato sauce as you would like. Save any extra for more pizza or to heat up with some spaghetti later in the week. Spread the sauce all the way to the edges so it hits the pan a little. Sprinkle on the cheese and add your toppings. Place in the oven for 10-15 minutes.

When the pizza has 1 minute left, brush on the honey-chili flake mixture so that it caramelizes during that last bit of cooking. When finished cooking, top with the basil and parmesan. Slice and enjoy immediately.

Funfetti Millefeuille

Spring, at last! Though it was a relatively tame winter (not including that snow storm I happened to miss out on) the sun and mild weather already feels rejuvenating, bringing with it a shift in the winds, the arrival of a new phase.

I realize that I mention this feeling of “rebirth” and starting another revolution of an ever-evolving cycle of life maturation each time spring comes around but it truly does happen. I mean, look at the evidence. 3years ago in the spring, a year out of college and just finding my first “real job”, I was going through a new phase of acclimation. 2 years ago I entered a major phase of personal growth and trying things that I was maybe too scared to try beforehand. And 1 year ago, the spring was the start of a lesson in healing and a long and slow process of realizing that hurt and sadness do indeed go away.

So what about this year? When spring arrived I still wasn’t sure yet. Unlike other years, this spring didn’t start off with a huge change or clear-cut moment defining the beginning of a new phase. That is, until I came across this quote by Emily Dickinson on Instagram of all places.

“The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.”

That’s when I realized that the phases of my life these past three years and what I’ve learned from them have all been leading up to this, the stage where I really begin to just start living. It’s almost as if I’ve been spending my time getting to know who I am, deep down to the core and now that I’ve done that, I am free to take risks, be a bit reckless, and just let myself go without risk of losing sight of the self. And that made me excited! So excited I couldn’t help but make a 4 layer cake complete with rainbow sprinkles for Easter dessert this past weekend. Because I couldn’t possibly claim to be living it up to the fullest extent if rainbow sprinkles weren’t involved, amiright. Thus, Funfetti Millefeuille.

Millefeuille, a classic French dessert meaning “thousand leaves,” is composed of alternating layers of crispy and flaky puff pastry with a creamy custardy filling and a layer of icing on top. It’s best eaten immediately if it’s the crispy texture you crave, but I found it really nice once it softened too, almost éclair-like. This particular version, filled with a rainbow sprinkle-infused sweet mascarpone filling and decorated just as frivolously, is probably as far as you could go in terms of bastardizing the original version, probably causing Julia Child to roll over in her grave with each layer added. But do I care? Nope! Because this looks like springtime and tastes like birthday cake with a sort of cavity-inducing sweetness that can only be complemented by a cup of strong black coffee. So, if it’s ecstatic experiences I‘m opening my soul to this year, well, I’d say I’m off to a pretty good start.

Funfetti Millefeuille

Recipe from Tasting Table

Ingredients

For the Pastry

1 17.3 oz package (containing two sheets) of puff pastry thawed in the refrigerator and cut in half, lengthwise, creating 4 rectangles of puff pastry.

2 Tbs. powdered sugar

For the Filling

2 cups mascarpone cheese

½ cup powdered sugar

1 tsp. vanilla extract

1/3 cup heavy cream, whipped

½ cup rainbow sprinkles

For the Icing

1 cup powdered sugar

2 Tbs. milk

2 Tbs. butter, melted and cooled

2 tsp. corn syrup

red, blue, green, and yellow food coloring

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper. Place 2 rectangles of the puff pastry on each baking sheet and prick them all over with a fork. Use a fine-mesh sieve to dust them on each side with powdered sugar. Bake until golden, 12-15 minutes. Remove from the oven and use another baking sheet to press down lightly on the pastry to flatten them some. Once flattened, transfer the pastry to a cooling rack to cool completely.

Make the filling by combining the mascarpone cheese, powdered sugar, vanilla extract, and whipped cream in a bowl until well blended. Refrigerate until ready to use.

To make the icing, combine the powdered sugar, milk, butter, and corn syrup in a bowl. In 4 small bowls place 1 Tbs. of the icing. Add 2-3 drops of one color of food coloring to each bowl of icing and mix well. You’ll end up with a tablespoon of icing for each color. Transfer each of these to a separate sandwich bag and seal shut. Leave the rest of the white icing in a bowl until ready to use.

To assemble the millefeuille begin by adding the sprinkles to the filling and mix well. Transfer to a piping bag or a gallon plastic bag with one corner snipped off. Place one piece of the puff pastry on your serving platter. Pipe a third of the filling onto the pastry and spread evenly with a knife or offset spatula. Repeat this step 2 more times. Add the final piece of pastry to the top and use an offset spatula to spread the white icing on the top. Snip the very tip of the bottom corner of each bag of colored frosting and work quickly to pipe thin lines across the top of the cake, alternating colors. Once you’ve covered the entire length of the cake with stripes of colored frosting, use a toothpick and drag the tip across the length of the cake. Do this, alternating direction each time, until you’ve reached the other side of the cake. Slice crosswise to serve.

A Year Ago Today: Loss, Remembering, and Bonnie Butter Cake

On my dad’s side of the family, I don’t think a birthday went by without a celebration at my grandma’s (well, I called her Nanaw) house. If I close my eyes and concentrate just enough, I swear I can almost take myself back there. From turning into her long gravel lane and up to the small house on the hill to the end of the boisterous family affair full of jokes and laughs, I can envision every detail as if it happened yesterday.

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The candles are lit, the lights go out, all sing, then darkness. If it’s my birthday, the July heat settles thickly in the room, occasionally interrupted by a pathetic breeze that drifts through and rustles the thin white cotton curtains. The dulled sounds of… maybe it’s Jeopardy?… drift in, unwatched, from an adjacent room. Someone switches the light back on and lifts the darkness.

My parents, my sister, aunts, uncles, cousins, and Nanaw all reappear, crammed around the floral vinyl tablecloth-covered kitchen table, most likely doubling up in the chairs to make room for us all. It’s about that time that the all too familiar smell of freshly extinguished birthday candles hits my nose. That smell, Pavlovian in its effect, triggers the only response I know: prepare for cake. And if it’s a birthday at Nanaw’s house, we’re eating Bonnie Butter Cake.

My Aunt takes charge of slicing the cake, divvying it out onto paper plates alongside a massive scoop of Edy’s vanilla ice cream. Nanaw passes out cups of Coke or ginger ale. There’s a 97% chance that it went flat about 2 weeks ago but I drink it anyway. The cake is the same as it’s always been and I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s buttery, as its name implies, sweet, and fluffy but the real star is the caramel icing, the sort that gets an ethereally thin crispy and flaky shell that shatters as my fork breaks into it. It’s an intense toffee sort of flavor and needs the cake and ice cream to mellow it out a bit.

If I’m lucky, there will be a few slices left that I can wrap up to take home with me. I’ll nibble on it bit by bit, drawing out its existence as long as I can. In the meantime, all of us, dazed in a post-cake coma, continue chatting around the table. I hear stories from my dad and his siblings. We all laugh as they regale us with tales of the antics they got up to as kids growing up on a dairy farm. Nanaw, the last to sit down with her slice of cake and ice cream, sits by quietly, shaking her head occasionally at the rowdy rest of us. We continue for hours, long after the residual bits of ice cream have melted on our plates, yet the sweet taste of Bonnie Butter Cake seems to linger on the palate, a taste I’ll never forget.

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When Nanaw died one year ago today, I worried that my mind would not be able to move past the memories I had of her in her final years. She was still the same person, of course, but old age and illness took their tolls. But time went on and before I knew it those final images trickled away and the happier memories returned. Memories of the woman who watched as I learned how to ride a bike in her backyard, who watched over me during the summer while my parents were at work, withstanding the countless hours of The Price is Right I put her through. The woman who let me sit in the middle of her old white pickup truck and shift gears when she pressed the clutch (which probably was not legal), who let my cousins and I parade through her garden to find rotten vegetables to make our “witch’s brew” in a 5-gallon bucket. The woman who made us Bonnie Butter Cake year after year because we all knew it wouldn’t really feel like a birthday without it.

Other than knowing that Nanaw made this cake for more family birthdays than I can remember, I hardly know any more about it. Where did she get the recipe? When was the first time that she made it? Was it her favorite cake? I may not ever know the answers, but rather than dwell on the questions I can no longer ask, maybe remembering what I do know is the most important thing. I know that Nanaw lives on in the blood that runs through my veins, in my memories that I have and share with others, and through the things she’s left behind, things like a cake recipe scratched onto an old bit of paper.

Bonnie Butter Cake

Makes one 2-layer cake

Note: the ingredients list for the cake and the entire recipe for the caramel icing is written exactly as it is on my grandmother’s hand-written recipe. Instructions for making the cake were not included so I wrote those on my own.

For the Cake

2/3 cup butter or margarine

1¾ cups sugar

2 eggs

1½ teaspoon vanilla

3 cups Softsilk cake flour (I actually used King Arthur)

2½ teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

1¼ cups milk

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and thoroughly butter 2 cake pans. Cream the butter and sugar together in an electric mixer for 4 minutes on medium speed until it’s light and fluffy. Add the eggs, one at a time, scraping down the sides and the bottom of the bowl after each. Add the vanilla and mix until combined.

Add the flour, baking powder, and salt into a separate bowl and use a whisk to combine. With the mixer on a medium-low speed add a third of the flour mixture. Once combined, add half of the milk. Add another third of the flour, then the rest of the milk, and finally the last of the flour. Turn to a medium speed to fully incorporate for about 15 seconds. Divide the batter between the two cake pans and bake for 30-35 minutes until golden and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Let the cakes cool in the pans until just warm then transfer to a cooling rack to finish cooling completely before frosting.

For the Caramel Icing

"Mix together thoroughly in saucepan, 1½ cups brown sugar (packed in cup), 3/8 cup milk (¼ cup plus 2 Tbsp.), 3/8 cup shortening, ¼ tsp. salt. Bring slowly to a full rolling boil, stirring constantly, and boil for 1 minute. Remove from heat and beat until lukewarm. Add ¾ tsp. vanilla. Continue beating until thick enough to spread. If icing becomes too thick to spread, add about 1 tsp. cream. Icing for 2-layer cake."

Passion Fruit Frozen Yogurt with Toasted Coconut and Dark Chocolate Magic Shell

Ugh, March. The month leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, not at all influenced by what I’m eating (which for the record is a diet primarily consisting of Cadbury Mini Eggs because that’s what Easter is all about for us agnostics).

The dreary cold month taunts us with a few spring-like days before dipping back into frosty mornings and lifeless grey skies. Unsavory memories emerge from the graves of Marches previous and linger like an impenetrable fog that suffocates me with thoughts of stress, heartbreak, unrelenting politics and loss. The clearer skies of April seem miles away. March calls for a ray of sun to ward away the ghosts of the past and for me, that sunlight comes in the form of passion fruit frozen yogurt

Per usual, my frozen desserts come from the genius that is Jeni Britton Bauer. Her eggless creations allow for a clearer, brighter cream flavor and with her frozen yogurts, the tanginess of the yogurt really comes through without sacrificing a smooth and rich texture.

This frozen yogurt combines my three absolute favorite flavors: passion fruit, coconut, and chocolate.  The small amount of passion fruit juice that goes into the frozen yogurt still manages to permeate it with its intense tropical flavor and the acidity that comes from both the fruit and the yogurt make it more refreshing than a standard ice cream. Toasted coconut gives each bite some satisfying chew and a nutty depth of flavor while homemade dark chocolate magic shell (dark chocolate + coconut oil) tones down the bright sweetness of the passion fruit with a bit of bitterness.

Contradictory as it is, this frozen dessert, with it’s tropical and refreshing flavor, momentarily takes me to a place that is warm and sunny, where my winter coat can collect dust in the closet, and the dark worries and memories of the month can melt away for good. In the midst of March, it’s completely necessary. 

Passion Fruit Frozen Yogurt with Toasted Coconut and Dark Chocolate Magic Shell

Makes roughly a quart

Adapted from Jeni’s Splendid Ice Creams at Home

Note: Pure passion fruit juice is a bit difficult to find but should be in the juice section at any Hispanic or Asian supermarket.

Ingredients

½ cup passion fruit juice

1¼ cups whole milk Greek yogurt

1½ cups whole milk

2 Tbs. cornstarch

2 oz. (4 Tbs.) cream cheese, softened

½ cup heavy cream

2/3 cup plus 3 Tbs. granulated sugar

¼ cup light corn syrup

½ cup unsweetened coconut, toasted

6 oz. chocolate chips

2 Tbs. plus 2 tsp. coconut oil

Combine the passion fruit juice and 3 Tbs. of sugar in a small saucepan and heat over medium until the sugar dissolves. Transfer to a bowl and allow to cool.

In another small bowl, combine 3 Tbs. of the milk and the cornstarch and mix to make a slurry. In a large bowl, whisk the cream cheese until smooth. Set both aside.

Combine the rest of the milk, the cream, the rest of the sugar, and the corn syrup in a large saucepan. Bring to a boil, while stirring. Let the mixture boil for 4 minutes. Remove from the heat and slowly whisk in the milk and cornstarch slurry. Return to the heat and let boil for an additional minute.

Whisk the hot milk into the bowl of cream cheese until it’s smooth. Strain through a sieve if it’s a bit lumpy. Whisk in the yogurt and the passion fruit syrup. Transfer the mixture to a gallon freezer bag and close, squeezing out excess air. Fill a large bowl with ice water and submerge the bag with the frozen yogurt base in the ice water for 30 minutes.

Once the frozen yogurt mixture is cool, churn according to your ice cream maker’s instructions. While it churns, combine the chocolate and the coconut oil in a microwave safe bowl. Microwave for 30 seconds at a time, stirring after each round, until all of the chocolate is melted and mixture is smooth.

When the frozen yogurt is finished churning, stir in the toasted coconut. Transfer to a freezer safe container by layering spoonfuls of frozen yogurt with drizzles of the chocolate sauce until all of the frozen yogurt is in the container. You will most likely not use all of the chocolate sauce but this can be refrigerated and reheated for a later use. Place your frozen yogurt in the freezer and let it firm up overnight before scooping. Drizzle with additional passion fruit juice, if desired.