A few years ago, my dad and I taught a grilling class together on Father’s Day.

One of the recipes was Dad’s famous soy-, ginger-, and garlic-marinated side of salmon. He requested grill baskets so he could easily flip the salmon without it sticking. I told him he didn’t need to worry about sticking—I, his professional culinary instructor daughter, knew how to prevent it.

Fast forward to the day of class and what did we have? Three sides of salmon, pounds and pounds of the glorious stuff, hopelessly stuck to the grill. We had to scrape and coax it off in bits and chunks and by the time we served it, it looked like something the cat dragged in.

Although it tasted good.

It turned out in the end, though, because I declared—in front of class, God, and everybody—that it was all my fault, that Dad was right and I was wrong. And that’s what every father really wants and deserves on Father’s Day, isn’t it? For his child to acknowledge that he’s right.

Right?

So I clearly know nothing about keeping a side of salmon from sticking. For all other foods, like these grilled pork chops, here’s what to do.

1. Preheat your cooking surface.
If you’re grilling, that means getting the grate good and hot and then cleaning it, with a wire brush if necessary, to make sure it’s pristinely free of debris.

If you’re not grilling—in other words, if you’re cooking on the stovetop—preheat your pan. How do you know if your pan is hot? Hold your hand just above the surface and feel the ambient temperature. You can also gingerly touch it.

2. Preheat your fat.
If you’re grilling, that means oiling the grate. I use a pair of tongs to lightly dip a wadded paper towel into some high-heat cooking oil, then rub the paper towel over the grate to give it a light coating. If the grate is nice and hot beforehand, the fat will heat up immediately.

On the stovetop, add fat to your pan and wait until it’s thoroughly heated. How to tell? Watch for it to shimmer ever-so-slightly. Or simply smell it—non-neutral flavored oils, like olive or peanut, will release their scents when they become hot.

3. Then, and only then, add not-cold foods.
In other words, bring your foods to room temperature before putting them on your hot and hot-fatted grills and stovetops.

I know, I know. We all worry about food safety (here’s a light-hearted primer by my friend Charmian Christie). But it won’t kill you to leave your pork chop, chicken breast, or steak at room temperature for an hour before cooking it. Honest. (For fish, which is a little more delicate, go for a half hour at room temp.)

And when you add your not-cold food to your grate or pan, if your fat was indeed hot, it should sizzle. If it doesn’t, don’t add more food—wait until the first chicken breast starts sizzling before adding the second.

If you’ve done these three things—preheated your cooking surface, preheated your fat, and then, and only then, added not-cold food—the only reason your food will stick is because it hasn’t yet developed enough of a crust to release. Try pulling up a little corner of your steak and if it resists, leave it alone for 30 or 60 seconds—have a sip of wine or toss a ball for the dog—and try again. Eventually it will release.

If you haven’t done these three things—or you’re cooking a side of salmon—all bets are off. Pull out the spatula and start scraping.

Two recipes to practice on, one grilled and one not:
Spice-Rubbed Pork Chops with Grilled Tomato Sauce
Spinach Salad with Chicken, Strawberries, Blue Cheese, and Almonds

It’s come to my attention that May 25th was National Wine Day, and June 4 will be National Cheese Day. So this week, right in between, let’s talk about wine and cheese pairing.

(But really, is there a bad time for wine and cheese?)

Long story short, pairing wine with cheese is no different than pairing wine with any other food. So for that, let’s review my super-basic food and wine pairing tips:

1.  Wine experts might talk about fruit flavors, grassy aromas, and other nuances in a wine, but most important in food and wine pairing are a wine’s broad characteristics—its sweetness (or lack thereof), crispness or acidity, tannins, weight, and intensity. Sauvignon Blanc, for example, could be characterized as dry (not sweet), high in acid, no or very low tannins, light to medium weight, and medium intensity. In comparison, Zinfandel could be characterized as dry (not sweet), medium to high in acid, medium to high in tannins, medium to heavy weight, and medium to strong intensity.

Two very different sets of broad characteristics, two very different wines.

2.  Once you’ve established a wine’s broad characteristics, you’ll almost never go wrong pairing like with like. In other words, mirror the qualities of your wine in the food you pair with it, and vice versa. For example, acidic Sauvignon Blanc is considered a perfect pair for salad with acidic vinaigrette dressing. Heavy Zinfandel is perfect for a rich char-grilled steak. And lightly sweet, or off-dry, Riesling is ideal for a savory dish with a little sweetness, such as mahi mahi with mango salsa.

Now extrapolate that to the world of cheese.

And you’ll understand why Sauvignon Blanc is considered classic with fresh goat cheese—although it’s a little strange to think of a cheese as acidic, goat cheese is quite tangy and so it works with the high-in-acid wine.

Similarly, Chardonnay and brie makes perfect sense, right? The creamiest and butteriest of the cheeses with the creamiest and butteriest of the wines. Even a crisp, non-buttery style of Chardonnay will work with brie because both are similar in terms of weight and intensity.

Zinfandel and Parmesan—also a great combination, especially an aged Parmesan. Heavy, intense wine with heavy, intense cheese. The saltiness of the cheese also helps it stand up to the wine’s tannins.

Also classic, Merlot or Cabernet Sauvignon with blue cheese. In cheese, you can’t get much more intense than blue, and the same can be said for wine and Cabernet Sauvignon. And again, you have a super-salty cheese being the perfect foil for the sometimes-intense tannins of the wine.

There are plenty of other great wine and cheese combinations, these are just examples. But now you have a sense of what to think about when creating one.

Once you have a pairing that’s working on the level of broad characteristics—and only then—you can go for matching nuances as well. A mushroomy teleme, for example, with an earthy Pinot Noir.

All that being said, let us remember the most important food and wine pairing tip of all:

3.  Eat and drink what makes you happy.

What’s the worst that can happen? Food, wine, it’s all good.

A perfect pairing is your call.

Speaking of wine and cheese, I’ll be doing a cheese-centric food and wine pairing event in the Seattle area on June 8 and a cooking class at Cheese Central in Lodi, CA, on July 24. See Classes & Events for details.

It’s no surprise I would want to cook from this book.

I know and adore its author, Jennie Schacht. She’s one of the smartest, savviest, friendliest, easiest-to-like people I’ve ever met. She’s given me a career boost more than once, and sprinkled words of wisdom in my direction many, many more times than that. I consider myself truly lucky to call her a colleague, confidant, mentor, resource, and friend.

And the book features my favorite food, ice cream. Even better, all flavors of ice cream—from basics to truly exotic creations—sandwiched between amazing and complementary cookies.

Here’s an example: an ice cream sandwich called Vietnamese Breakfast, featuring Vietnamese coffee ice cream on Parisian cocoa macarons. Pretty awesome, right?

And on top of all that, the book is absolutely adorable.

I’m a sucker for an adorable book.

So cook from “I Scream Sandwich: Inspired Recipes for the Ultimate Frozen Treat” (Stewart, Tabori & Chang, 2013) I did. And will definitely do again and again.

This week, it was the PB&J (pictured, here’s the recipe), featuring peanut butter ice cream on toast with raspberry jam. Too bad that husband isn’t a peanut butter fan. Not.

More for me.

Other recipes on my to-do list include Plum Good, featuring plum frozen yogurt on lavender walnut shortbread; Everything Is Rosie, with rosewater ice cream on pistachio-cardamom sandies; and Got Your Goat, frozen honey vanilla goat’s milk on sugar cone cookies.

It will be an undoubtedly delicious, ice creamy summer.

A couple of other things I love about Jennie’s book. Each recipe gives you the option to “take it easy,” suggesting a way to cut corners and make the sandwiches a little easier—by using store bought cookies, for example, instead of a sandwich’s companion cookie recipe. And each recipe also includes a “dress it up” option, a suggestion for a way to enhance your ice cream sandwiches—coating the edges with Honey-Roasted Peanut Brittle, for example. There are so many dress-up, add-in, and coating recipes, in fact, that they get their own chapter.

So do I love “I Scream Sandwich!”? You bet.

Is that surprising? Not. At. All.

Even though the weather in Napa has been 100% summer—in the 80s every nearly day lately—the calendar still says its spring. And that’s a good thing because I haven’t gotten my fill of spring vegetables yet.

Especially baby artichokes. They’re one of the few produce items that’s not always available year-round, so that much more precious.

If you’ve never cooked baby ‘chokes, don’t be daunted. They take a little work up front, but because they’re small, they cook more quickly than their standard-size brethren. And there’s less work at the table—because with cooked baby artichokes, you can eat the whole thing.

And I do.

By the bowlful.

Here’s how to prep them for cooking.

1. Prepare a bowl of acidulated water.
That’s water with a little lemon juice or vinegar, 2 to 3 tablespoons per quart or so. This is where you’ll keep the prepped artichokes as you work, to help prevent browning. It won’t completely avoid browning, but it’ll help.

2. Snap off the outer leaves.
Working one artichoke at a time, remove the leaves—just bend back one or two at a time and they’ll snap right off—until you’re left with leaves that are at about 3/4 pale yellow (top row of photos above). You’ll end up taking off three or four layers, but when in doubt, remove another. It’s better to have a little less artichoke than a mouthful of tough leaves.

3. Trim and cut.
Use a paring knife to trim the top of the artichoke, removing the 1/4 that’s still green. Trim the stem, cutting off any dark green parts on the bottom and sides to create a stubby cone shape. Finally, depending on how you plan to use it, leave the artichoke whole or cut it into halves, quarters, or slices (bottom row of photos above).

4. Repeat.
Drop the prepped ‘choke into the acidulated water and repeat with the remaining artichokes.

That’s it. Your artichokes are ready to be drained and then cooked by almost any method you like. You can even slice them thinly and serve them raw, in salads or as a crudités.

One of my new favorite ways to enjoy baby artichokes is in a soup. Here’s the recipe.

I might think twice about hosting Thanksgiving or Christmas. But with Mother’s Day, there’s no hesitation.

Is it because I so enjoy the opportunity to celebrate the mothers in my life? Absolutely.

But there’s another, secret reason: Mother’s Day is the perfect opportunity to brunch. And I like to brunch.

I like the foods of brunch.

I like the casual elegance of brunch.

I like the brunchy time of day, with enough time passed to allow for sleeping in, but not so much that there isn’t still plenty of it ahead.

I especially like an outdoors brunch. And right around Mother’s Day, the weather is finally getting warm enough to have one.

The flowers are blooming. The sun is shining.

Hooray! Let’s do brunch!

So that’s the plan.

I’m not yet sure of the menu, with two exceptions. Rustic Gruyère Chive Scones (pictured) and mimosas.

With which I’ll toast the mothers in my life—my mom, my step-mom, my mother-in-law, and my Jewish mother, also known as my father.

And secretly, brunch.

The first time that the food and wine pairing light bulb went off in my head, when I had a combination that really underscored how good a good combination can be, it was thanks to a bottle of Riesling.

My husband and I were at a restaurant in San Francisco and it was one of those perfect evenings—the atmosphere, the service, the food, the company. But what sticks in my mind is taking a bite of the smoked sea bass, then a sip of the Riesling, and thinking, “Oh. My. God.”

That was about fifteen years ago, and Riesling is still one of my favorites. Especially as the weather gets warmer and I want a wine that’s light, fruity, and refreshing.

If Riesling is new to you, you’re not alone. Riesling has long been considered one of the world’s great grapes—but we’ve been slow to receive the message here in the States.

If it’s not new to you, you might think of Riesling as a sweet wine. While it’s true that Riesling is made in styles varying from bone dry to sticky sweet, a garden-variety Riesling off the supermarket shelf will likely have only a touch of sweetness.

And that’s a very good thing. Because while sweet foods are best paired with sweet wines—for example, dessert and dessert wine—slightly sweet foods are best paired with slightly sweet wines—for example, mahi mahi with mango salsa (pictured) and an off-dry, Riesling.

(For more about why I think off-dry wines are awesome, read this post.)

In addition to foods that are a little sweet, Riesling pairs well with foods that are a little spicy. Also foods that are a little smoky. It’s considered a classic pair for lighter Asian dishes, like Thai food. And it’s also classic with pork and ham, fish and shellfish.

And then there’s the aforementioned Riesling and smoked sea bass.

Oh. My God.

A few more summery recipes that’d pair well with Riesling:
Seafood and Andouille Jambalaya from “100 Perfect Pairings: Main Dishes to Enjoy with Wines You Love” in Bay Area Scene
Baja Fried Fish Tacos from Sunset
Thai Pork Salad with Chiles and Mint from Real Simple
Shrimp and Cucumber Salad with Horseradish Mayo from Bon Appetit

I think it’d be safe to say that over the last generation or so, we’ve all learned to cook more simply, quickly, healthily. We grill more. We stir fry. We’ve cut down on the fats and focused on good ingredients simply prepared. With few exceptions, we don’t make the gravy-laden and cream-of-mushroom-soup-based dishes our mothers and grandmothers did.

Somewhere in the translation, though, we lost the ability to make a sauce. By that I don’t mean a heavy, gloppy concoction that gets slathered all over the plate. I mean a spoonful or two of something flavorful and wet to enhance our simply prepared foods.

Let me say it again because doesn’t it sound nice?

A spoonful or two of something flavorful and wet to enhance our simply prepared foods.

Here’s how to make one of the world’s easiest, a pan sauce.

1. Pan-sauté something.
Could be a chicken breast. Could be a rib eye. Could be a fish fillet, a cauliflower steak, or simply a skillet-full of diced vegetables. Whatever it is, cook it so that it gets nicely browned.

2. Set the pan-sautéed food aside to rest, loosely covered.
Notice the pan (upper left photo above). If your food is nicely browned, your pan should be, too. That’s not burned stuff in the bottom there, that’s called fond and it’s culinary gold. (If it’s black, not brown, it is burned and you should forgo the idea of a pan sauce.)

3. Deglaze the pan.
By “deglaze” I mean to return the pan to the heat, add some liquid—it could be water, but why use water when you can use something more flavorful like stock, wine, or juice?—and then use that liquid, the heat of the pan, and a straight edged spoon or spatula to gently scrape up the fond (upper right photo above). How much liquid should you use? Enough to fill the pan by about one-quarter of an inch.

As the fond releases, it’ll give it’s delicious round, brown flavors to the liquid, enhancing your sauce. With just a minute or two of scraping, the bottom of the pan should be fond-free (lower left photo above)—also rendering it easy to clean.

3. Cook the liquid down to concentrate the flavors.
How much to cook it down? Until it’s about one-eighth inch deep in the pan. Remember, we’re not making gobs of gravy. We’re making a tablespoon or two of something flavorful and wet.

4. Finish your sauce with a pat of butter.
Don’t freak out—it’s not a lot of butter. And that small amount does some cool things. Because fat is a flavor carrier, the butter will enhance the flavor of your sauce. It’ll also slightly thicken the sauce and give it a silkier mouthfeel (lower right photo above—some thyme has also been added in the photo).

5. Season to taste and serve.
Add salt and pepper to taste, spoon your sauce over your sautéed food, and serve.

To enhance that basic idea, but only if you’re so inclined:
1. After you do the initial sauté and remove your browned food from the pan, add some aromatics and sauté them. For example, diced or sliced onions, shallots, or garlic. Then proceed with adding your liquid.

2. Add spices and sturdier herbs like rosemary and thyme along with the aromatics. Add more delicate herbs like cilantro and chives right after the butter.

3. Replace the butter with a different creamy ingredient. Try cream, crème fraîche, goat cheese, or blue cheese. (But avoid pre-crumbled cheese because it might not melt like not-pre-crumbled.)

Ta da.

You just made a pan sauce.

Yay you.

Pictured, Sauteed Chicken with Parsnip, Apple, and Sherry Pan Sauce.

It all started back in January, when I resolved to cook more often and make homemade versions of some of the processed foods I buy—things like bread, cheese, pasta, and yogurt.

First, I made a few batches of rye. Then my husband, who had been a semi-regular bread baker, got into the act. Soon our freezer was jam-packed with the rye, several versions of a rustic Italian, and a beautiful bread from Peter Reinhart’s Artisan Breads Every Day—my husband’s bible—called struan. We’re particularly excited about the struan for BLTs with homegrown tomatoes in a few months.

It was bread-pallooza.

Which was really good and righteously satisfying. But not quite enough to rule out store bought bread once and for all.

See, I like a really grainy, wheaty, hearty bread, especially for toast in the morning, slathered with peanut butter or goat cheese. None of our breads so far had filled that bill.

And then along came Rosemary.

More specifically, a blog post from my friend Rosemary Mark featuring No-Knead Country Wheat Bread. I made it within the week.

Now most bread is pretty easy to make. But this one is ridiculous. I put it together in about ten minutes, let it rise overnight, then spent about five more minutes of hands-on time the next day.

Perhaps even better, the finished bread had all the grainy, hearty qualities I was looking for.

I’ve made several more since that first loaf, each time slightly varying the flours and adding different combinations of seeds, grains, and nuts (here are of Rosemary’s variations). I like that, in addition to being quick, easy, and delicious, the recipe is super malleable. It’s a good way to use up the bits and bobs that tend to accumulate in my cupboard. (I like making homemade granola for the same reason.)

So is this the end of store bought bread? Perhaps.

Although I can’t imagine life without an occasional Acme baguette, thanks to Rosemary, I don’t think I’ll be buying the sliced stuff for my morning toast any time soon.

I’ve been working on a project for a few months now. It’s not a new cookbook—but I’m as excited as if it was.

It’s a remodeled office with my very own photo studio.

Let me tell you about it.

For the past several months I’ve been working on my photography. I got a new camera, then a new lens. I learned basic photo post-production. I polished my food and prop styling.

One reason I’ve been doing all this to help my blog look better and to attract more followers. But it’s also because I’ve lost more than one job because the client wanted a recipe AND a photo, and I felt compelled to point out that, while I can take a decent shot, I’m not a real photographer.

So I decided it was time to do away with that compulsion.

Along the way, I’ve been taking shots in various spaces around the house—each time schlepping out the camera, lights, props, surfaces, then dutifully putting it all away to restore some sense of order.

Finally, my husband the art director, who knows of things like photography and who has been a champion and teacher throughout this becoming-a-photographer process, made a suggestion.

He suggested I create a photo studio.

See, like many of us who work at home, my office is in a spare bedroom that also served as a guest room.

Why not get rid of the guest bed, he suggested, shove all the furniture to the outer edges of the room, and put a tabletop for photography in the middle?

A very good suggestion indeed.

So with apologies to the handful of friends and family who thought they might one day use our guest bed, I set about remodeling.

I got rid of all the furniture. Bed. Desk. Various Ikea shelves. I gutted the closet.

Once the room was completely bare, I repainted. And had the carpets cleaned.

Then, in my now-pristinely clean white space, I installed bright, white shelves. Lots of them. One wall-full for props, camera equipment, office equipment, and cookbooks. And another with one wide shelf as a desktop and more shelves for desk stuff and ephemera.

The closet got reconfigured with wire shelving for files, office supplies, more props, and household doo-dads like gift wrapping supplies and family photos.

In each corner of the room, there are spaces for additional supplies—bounce cards and scrims, backgrounds and surfaces, and ingenious sticks in a can for lighting and backgrounds.

All of which makes for a pretty, clean, super functional work space, one with a place for everything and everything in its place.

Happy happy.

But even better—and more to the whole entire point—a space with a huge, roughly 8-by-10-foot area in the middle for photography. I bought a not-too-big Ikea table as my shooting surface. And it’s on wheels so I can easily move it around within the space.

The net net?

An office/guest room transformed into an office/photo studio. A realignment of my feng shui. A renewed excitement about coming to work every morning.

And no more hesitation about calling myself a photographer.

Mayonnaise is a foodstuff that we take completely for granted.

We spoon it out of a jar and spread it onto sandwiches, stir it into slaws and salad dressings, and whisk it into dips, never really thinking much about it.

But if you did, you’d notice that, for the most part, store bought mayonnaise is a texture. It’s thick, slick, and, well, fatty. More than adding any discernible taste, it adds body and mouthfeel to foods.

Homemade mayonnaise, however, is an entirely different animal. More than a mere condiment, it’s a versatile sauce—one with all the thick, creamy attributes of the jarred stuff, but with real flavor, a delicious balance of sweetness and piquancy.

And takes about five minutes.

For a basic recipe, start with one egg yolk, a teaspoon of mustard, and a pinch of salt. Whisk this trio together, then slowly—pretty much drop by drop—add a cup of oil, continuing to whisk as you do. Finally, blend in a tablespoon or two of something acidic, typically vinegar or lemon juice, plus salt and pepper to taste.

And there you have it—homemade mayonnaise.

Since I’ve been semi-obsessed with Meyer lemons lately, I’ve been making lots of Meyer lemon mayonnaise (here’s the recipe). It’s amazing on top of fish. I also love it as a dipping sauce for oven fries. And spooned on top of a grain salad. And mixed into hard-cooked eggs.

Best. Egg. Salad. Ever.

Yes, the whisking can get pretty tiring. But it’s only for a little bit, and you’ll live. I promise.

Your reward will be one of those things that can only be explained as kitchen magic. A few familiar ingredients are transformed into something entirely else—a creamy, delicious dollop.

Interested in more simple sauces? Join me for Let’s Get Saucy, a hands-on cooking glass at Ramekins in Sonoma, on April 4. The menu includes Provolone Toasts with Chimichurri; Rosemary Salmon Skewers with Meyer Lemon Aioli; Sauteed Chicken with Parsnip, Apple, and Sherry Pan Sauce; Grilled New York Steak with Martini Butter; and Rosemary-Infused Strawberries Jubilee.