Life is good. You know how I know? The biggest dilemma I was faced with this past weekend was what to do with the rest of my coveted strawberries.

Two batches of jam, three smoothies, and four bellyaches later, there were only a handful of less-than-perfect berries left, crying to be used. Rather then send them into the deep freeze for later use, I threw them into a batch of these delicious-sounding scones.

While the flavors were spot-on, I felt that the texture was not quite as scone-like as I would have liked. Granted, I took them out of the oven sooner than the directions instructed, however if I hadn’t I would have ruined another baking sheet with the singed remains of strawberry ooze. As a result, the texture was almost muffin-like, light and fluffy and soft. Good, no doubt, but not what I’d define as a scone.

I loved the sweet buttermilk glaze, though, and so did the cat. We turned our backs for 5 seconds only to find that she’d broken in to the partially open container and was now madly licking the glaze off the top of one scone like her life depended on it.

I take it back. We DO have bigger dilemmas than just strawberries…

©2013 Love and Olive Oil

I give up. Why don’t YOU try to photograph a cheesesteak. The gooier and meltier the better, taste-wise, but the harder it is to photograph.

Disclaimer: I do not live in Philly, nor have I ever actually had an authentic Philly cheesesteak. This is my version, based on a recipe by Julie of The Little Kitchen (who has never been to Philly either). If you are offended by the fact that we didn’t use cheese-whiz or whatever processed cheese product the locals use, please keep your cheesesteak-gospel to yourself. I’ll try a real one eventually (really, I will!) but until then, this is a darn good substitute.

The secret to this sandwich is really the bread. It’s worth the extra effort to hunt down some good-quality hoagie rolls (we were really impressed with the Publix rolls Julie recommended). And don’t skip the steaming. Simply wrapping the rolls in foil and popping them in the oven for a few short minutes allows the juices to permeate the bread, steaming and softening the bread in a marriage of succulent steak and melted cheese.

I’m a proponent of simplicity when it comes to cheesesteaks and thus chose to top mine with just sauteed onions; however, if you need a more fulfilling cheesesteak, feel free to add green bell peppers, mushrooms, or other toppings to them mix.

Actually, I take that back. I’m really tempted to make a “hipster” version, complete with goat cheese and arugula or other toppings that will probably make the cheesesteak-purists out there cringe.

©2013 Love and Olive Oil

I’m inspired by simplicity.

And when that simplicity is bathed in butter? Even better.

This pasta dish contains two kinds of mushrooms: dried porcini mushrooms as well as the more exotic Maitake mushroom, also called Hen of the Woods mushrooms, my newest discovery. Why dried mushrooms? Why not use all fresh? While the fresh mushrooms definitely have a delicate texture that the dried version can’t reproduce, it’s that rehydrating process that is the key to this recipe, namely what is leftover: mushroom water (mushroom juice?) The soaking liquid left after the mushrooms have softened is loaded with a robust, earthy flavor that would be a shame to waste. Some of that water gets added to the pan along with the mushrooms, making the sauce into, well, a sauce.

With a splash of lemon juice, a dash of parsley and red pepper flakes, and a flurry of freshly grated Pecorino cheese topping it all off, this dish comes together in a delightful symphony of flavors, rich and buttery yet light and delicate. Inspired by a local restaurant here in Nashville (the same place, the same meal actually, that inspired this Brussels Sprout Salad that you all loved so much), the result is incredible.

If you’ve never made homemade pasta before, I suggest you start out with a basic recipe, perhaps the one that came with your machine (or hand crank). I’ve posted my basic recipe before, such as in these Fresh Corn Ravioli, as well as published it in our book, you’ll just want to slice the pasta sheets into wide noodles instead of shaping them into ravioli.

Another tip? Make the effort to find 00 pasta or 00 semolina flour. It makes a world of difference; you’ve never had pasta so tender. However, you can also substitute fresh store bought linguine or fettuccine in this recipe if you’re short on time.

Don’t forget to click on over to see this recipe, plus some extra photos of the process at Broadway+Thresher.

©2013 Love and Olive Oil

Life is short, and strawberry season is even shorter.

Don’t waste one precious second.

We ditched work one afternoon last week (shh, don’t tell) and went strawberry picking, hoping to fill our flats with ripe red berries before the rain arrived. We had no particular plans for the berries other than consuming as many as our tummies would allow. It was also assumed that more than a few of these beautiful berries were bound for the canner.

And, tell me, are you really surprised? What did you expect for the first jam of the season?

As it turns out, strawberry hibiscus is a pretty incredible combination, and doesn’t do anything to dampen this little obsession I’m experiencing. And folks? I’ve still got half a bag left. I told you 1 pound of dried hibiscus went a long way.

This tropical jam is based off of last year’s Strawberry Vanilla jam recipe, replacing the vanilla bean with a concentrated hibiscus ‘tea’ made from dried flowers steeped in hot water.

The jam itself isn’t overly floral; the hibiscus does more to enhance the natural flavor and fruitiness of the strawberry than anything. But don’t take that to mean it tastes ordinary; it is anything but.

This recipe is a traditional jam, with no added pectin. It will produce a fairly loose jam, which I tend to prefer, as it is just as easily drizzled over vanilla ice cream as it is spread onto toast. If you prefer more gel in your jelly, up the pectin (with some lemon zest or some commercial pectin) and cook it a wee bit longer.

©2013 Love and Olive Oil

It’s been a long time coming, this mac ‘n cheese.

I’m fairly loyal to the boxed stuff, and will admit I had never really tried a homemade version before this year. Why? I have no idea.

I first attempted to recreate a version from a local restaurant in town. Word of warning: do not use buttermilk when making mac ‘n cheese. Silo, it turns out, uses a buttermilk cheddar cheese from a local farm, not actual buttermilk. Want to know what happens when you heat up buttermilk? Curds. Glorious, chunky, unappetizing curds. It’s not pretty and it sure as heck isn’t creamy like cheese sauce should be.

Once we’d given up on that idea (it only took 3 tries to realize it was NOT going to work), we moved on to a basic mac and cheese, figuring if we could get a foundation in place, then we could start experimenting with add-ins. Batch after batch we made, and batch after batch we ate without being entirely pleased with the results. White pepper ruined it one night, too much mustard powder another. Not wanting to throw out perfectly good cheese, we ate more gritty, pasty mac and cheese than I care to admit. But the cheese turned out to be the most important factor of all. Extra-sharp cheddar cheese might sound promising, but it imparts an oddly bitter taste that has no place in my ideal mac and cheese.

Once we figured out that last part, replacing the sharp with a mild, white cheddar (the raw milk cheddar from Trader Joe’s to be precise), it was like the planets aligned and everything came together in perfect, cheesy harmony.

Our favorite variation is this one, with thinly sliced Brussels sprouts interspersed amongst the cheese and noodles. With the right balance of cheese and spice, the Brussels sprouts fit into the mix perfectly, without a trace of bitterness to be found. It’s creamy beyond compare, with the perfect bit of crunch from the cheese and breadcrumbs on top.

Granted, I’ll still indulge in the odd box of instant mac, probably more often than I really should. Because really, there’s something about that neon cheese powder, an intense craving, that homemade just can’t satisfy. And yet, this homemade version is really growing on me. We’ve made it multiple times since we found our golden cheese ratio, and I find myself craving it at odd times of the day (like, uh, now?) Leave the Brussels out if you must, or play around with your own mix-ins, but I will say this: cheese matters. Stick to the varieties and the proportions listed in this recipe and you’ll be saying cheese for a long time to come.

©2013 Love and Olive Oil