It’s not out of life’s character to move quickly, to come and go while often leaving a path of destruction not unlike the upended houses and thrown cars that get in the way of a tornado. Right now emails are coming in faster than I can respond to, we’re signing my little girl (my baby!!) up for preschool, I’m tripping over clean clothes spilling out of the confines of the basket and the dishwasher is loaded and unloaded more times that I can count in a day.

“In our next house I think we need a bigger dishwasher.” Gabe said while unloading yet another round. We’re both trying to seek some sort of sense in a season that has us both gasping for air.

These things happen. I’ve seen seasons come and go numerous times, particularly while being a parent. Just when you think you have a schedule figured out – baby is sleeping through the night, we’re getting three healthy meals on the table a day and we’re able to rest at the end of day – then suddenly something shifts and the new schedule that we took great pride in is pointless. Then in struts a new season without warning.

In our house we’re experiencing some shifting, a new busy season, and it’s provoked many moments of Gabe and I sitting on the couch staring blankly at the google calendar trying to make sense of the week. Nothing about these changes are bad – it’s multiple birthdays that call for multiple parties, book writing, new job opportunities, the start of wedding season, travel – but it’s enough to fill up the moments in our day and have us needing to seek out our priorities that don’t always get a time slot on the calendar.

The to-do list was growing by the minute last week and the 50 unread emails in my inbox were taunting me with their bold type but I knew we needed dinner. The sort that has food setting on multiple platters along the table. The kind of dinner that we ask the kids to set the table, with napkins even. They may be paper but even so a folded paper napkin with a fork and knife resting next to its crease somehow elevates the meal beyond the harried throw something on a plate because the kids are hangry dinners. Those happen too. But this time I was seeking the sort of dinner where we sit around the table and linger until the conversation dwindles and even then Gabe and I stick around for awhile while the kids carry their plates, with much of dinner still on it, into the kitchen then run off to play.

It seemed such a simple thing, in fact it was. Dinner was little more than braised chicken thighs with a bright white bean salad speckled with fresh mint, salty feta and peas that burst with spring. But sitting down to dinner reminded me that in the midst of chaos and new seasons it is vital that we stick to the routines that bind us.

It’s for this reason that our date nights are scheduled. If they weren’t their absence would go unnoticed until Gabe and I realize that something isn’t right in our marriage. These weekly nights that breed connection are like our preventative medicine – as exercise builds a strong body better ready to fight when sickness comes – our marriage is the stronger for our weekly dating exercise over a sprightly cocktail and satisfying meal.

The same is true for family dinner. I don’t want to communicate to our kids that we only have a nice meal together when there’s time. No, we make the time for it. And while I know the reality is that some nights we just can’t all linger at the table together, it’s important for our family that it’s most nights.
As we sat around the table over dinner I remembered the days when I longed for family dinners around the table. Baron used to sit in a little seat with an attached tray on the floor in our kitchen as he mumbled his way through black beans and purees of all kinds. Then when he was finally able to sit at the table with us for dinner, Roman had his turn in the little chair. We’d just sit down to dinner when suddenly Roman would start to cry and moan and demand something other than the mashed banana I was feeding him. I would leave the table with Roman while Gabe and Baron enjoyed dinner.

“When will we ever be able to eat as a family?” I lamented longing for those idillic dinners that I so eagerly wanted with our growing family.

Then came Ivy and again our meal time was split between a preschooler eager to talk about his day, a potty training and not eager to sit still toddler and a baby who didn’t want to sit on the sidelines or sit (unless in someone’s arms) in general. During those days it felt like dinner would never happen around the table. We ate in shifts and in between messes.

And then it happened, really without me even noticing. Sometime last year we were all sitting around the table.

“How was your day?” I asked Baron excited to hear about his day at school while at the same time remembering how often I was asked that question at the dinner table.

His generic response was the same as mine often was, “good”. Soon the conversation expanded beyond one word answers and we’d have to remind the kids to actually eat their food in between sentences.

Even still our dinners rarely last longer than 10 minutes, are often met with moans from all the green stuff I’m serving and much of the time is spent cleaning up spilled milk and sticky fingers. But it’s happening. We’re around the table most nights creating the habit and building the ritual. If we don’t build that into our schedule, regardless of the season we’ll one day realize that our opportunities for those dinners have passed. How terribly cliche of me but I’ve come to realize a new cliche – the cliches are true (and now I shall not say that word again because I really don’t like it).

While the romantic in me doesn’t like the need for “scheduling” time together – whether it’s date night or family dinners – the practical side of me, albeit however small that part is, realizes that in order for these times of connection to happen they need to be scheduled. The importance of those times outweighs my disdain of scheduling.

White Bean Salad with Peas and Mint
serves 4 as a side

1 15 oz can or 1 1/2 cups white beans, drained and rinsed
1 cup peas (fresh or frozen)
1/2 cup chopped fresh mint
1 scallion, thinly sliced
1 teaspoon ground coriander
zest and juice from half a lemon
1/2 cup crumbled feta
olive oil
salt and pepper

Combine everything in a bowl. Add just enough olive oil to coat and season with salt and pepper, lots of pepper, to taste.
If you are making this ahead combine everything except the mint as fresh mint tends to wilt and turn black once cut. Stir in the mint just before serving.
I like this with a bit of bread for a light lunch or served alongside chicken as a main course. Makes a great, easy picnic side dish.

*This post was inspired by the new book from Gluten-Free Girl and the Chef, called Gluten-Free Girl Every Day. It’s simple weeknight cooking centered around the family and dinner together. The recipes are simple yet creative and enticing. I can not wait to try the zuchini noodles with pesto.

*Recently I did an interview with Saveur. Check it out their site. And while you’re clicking around hop over to Bon Appetit where I took their new grilling book for a spin. *Spoiler* I LOVED it.

No matter where in the world you live I’m sure by now you’ve heard the gleeful cries of us north westerners basking in the unseasonable warmth. It seems, for a time, we’ve skipped spring and moved right into summer. The kiddie pools have broken their winter hibernation, as have the bbq’s and picnic tables. Last night we even welcomed in s’more season with the neighbors as we all huddled around roasting marshmallows on bamboo skewers over our little Weber. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten a s’more before July. And the most exciting part about this sun, at least for Baron, is Lemonade season. We have a giant bag of lemons waiting to be squeezed and our little stand is nearly ready for customers.

For me the sun is a revival in energy, warming hope and the thawing of the winter months that color my mood, as well as the sky, a sort of dull, hopeless hue.

I feel silly gushing about the weather on a blog post but 84 degrees in May calls for a bit of gushing. But for now let’s quit with the talk of weather and gush about rhubarb floats. If you’ve seen my instagram feed recently you probably have noticed that I’m a little obsessed with rhubarb syrup these days. There were rhubarb italian sodas, rhubarb sours (for the book), mojitos and just a simple soda with lime. It’s the warming floral flavor that to me is the fragrance of spring, mixed with a gentle spice and softened with vanilla bean. It’s the sun that inspired the scoop of vanilla ice cream. For now, I’m retiring root beer and demanding all my floats are of the rhubarb variety.

Spiced Rhubarb Syrup

Of all the many wonderful uses of rhubarb this syrup remains my favorite. It’s a fridge staple all through spring as it easily becomes the base for numerous cocktails, sodas and now ice cream floats. I love the warmth the spice brings but just rhubarb alone is great too. Feel free to play around with the add-ins. I’ve also added citrus peel into the mix with great results. 

4 cups/1 pound/ 450 g chopped rhubarb

1 cup + 1 tablespoon/ 8 ounces/ 230 g sugar

2 cups/ 1 pound/ 450 grams water

1 vanilla bean (optional)

1 cinnamon stick

3-5 cardamom pods, lightly crushed

1/4 teaspoon fresh ground nutmeg

Combine all the ingredients in a sauce pan and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat slightly so the mixture continues to boil gently. Boil for 15 minutes or until the mixture is reduced by nearly half. The rhubarb will break down and the liquid will get syrupy. Remove the pan from the heat and let the syrup cool.

When cool, strain out the rhubarb. Save the rhubarb mash to add to yogurt, on top of ice cream or oatmeal.

Rhubarb syrup will keep covered in the fridge for two weeks.

 For the float

These measurements are rough as it’s all a matter of taste. Adjust how you’d like. I kept on meaning to muddle strawberries with the syrup before adding the club soda and ice cream but got too excited that I forgot. Perhaps you’ll remember. Or imagine using strawberry ice cream or even coconut sorbet. So many floats to be had.

1/8 – 1/4 cup rhubarb syrup (recipe above)

1/2 cup club soda

1 scoop vanilla ice cream

Add the syrup to a glass. To that add a scoop of ice cream and finish with club soda. Serve with a spoon and a straw.

*The straws in the photos are glass and I’m in love with them. The kind people at Glass Dharma sent me a few different sizes but these little cocktail straws are my favorite. Check them out.

All right, 2013, you’ve got my attention. You’re a big one.

Friends, it is with joy so intense I feel it in every part of my body that I get to tell you that Saveur magazine, along with all of you lovlies who voted, has named this here blog the best cooking blog of 2013. Wow. Just crazy wow.

There are so many things to say and yet I can’t hear the words beyond the excited screaming in my head.

This award is like a giant affirmation that I’m headed in the right direction and for someone, such as myself, who spends much of the time on the journey questioning. “Is this the right way? Should I turn here? Should I have kept walking straight or turned back there? Hmm. Maybe I’ll just stop here and wonder about which way to go for awhile.” This year it has been about walking forward with confidence and trusting that my steps are being guided and I’m just going along for the ride.

So I’m taking this award as a giant sign along the path that reads, “This is the right way! Keep going!”

But let’s get to the real reason why I’m here – to tell you about the best lunch I’ve had in a very long time. I mean I guess it’s not hard to beat the peanut butter and honey sandwiches that have become customary lunch around here.

No, you know what. It is hard to beat that. Peanut butter sandwiches are like eating a sweet memory from when your biggest problem was deciding which cartoon to watch. But they are still not as good as creamy slices of avocado under a layer of even creamier burrata which buckles under the weight of a pile of sweet and tangy roasted tomatoes. Add to that roughly torn basil and a squeeze of fresh lemon all on a butter toasted piece of country bread. Lunch.

It’s a caprese salad and yet it’s not. The genius behind the addition of avocado to this classic salad is Gaby Dalkins, author of the just released cookbook, Absolutely Avocados. A book devoted entirely to the glorious avocado. Of course there’s guacamole – goat cheese guacamole and spicy sesame guacamole, for example. Then Gaby goes and throws some avocado into her cookies and purees avocado with her hummus. She’s brilliant.

Now, I’m not sure my caprese will ever be without avocado. Or roasted tomatoes for that matter (unless it’s early September in Seattle when the tomatoes just off the vine have the same robust sweetness as those that have bathed in a hot oven for an hour).  And since we’re changing things up quite a bit I’m also fairly certain that all caprese salads around here will be eaten on top of buttery, crisp bread that was rubbed with fresh garlic. Pretty sure I can no longer call it caprese, but I will call it lunch and then I’ll go ahead and call it dinner too.

Roasted Tomato Caprese with Avocado

inspired by Absolutely Avocados by Gaby Dalkins

makes 3 tartines

1 large beefsteak tomato or 1 pint cherry tomatoes

1 tablespoon olive oil

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

4 large leaves fresh basil

1 tablespoon butter

3 thick slices of country bread

1 garlic clove

1/2 avocado, peeled and sliced thin

1/2 large burrata ball (mozzarella would work fine here)

1/2 lemon

Preheat your oven to 325 degrees F.

Cut the large tomato in 1/4″ inch slices. Lay on a parchment lined sheet tray and drizzle olive oil and sprinkle with the salt. If you are using the cherry tomatoes, simply toss them with the olive oil and salt and lay them in a single layer on a parchment lined sheet tray.

Roast for 1 – 1 1/2 hours until wilted, wrinkly and deeply caramelized in parts. The cherry tomatoes will sweet and deflate and some of the juices will scorch in places. This is good.

When the tomatoes have roasted, remove them from the oven and set aside to cool.

In a large skillet over medium heat add the butter to melt. Place the pieces of bread in the pan and cook until crisp and golden in parts, about 3-4 minutes per side.

Remove the bread from the pan and let cool.

Once cool assemble the tartines. Avocado slices line the bottom, next tear off a piece of the fragile burrata taking care to get parts of the creamy interior. Lick your fingers when no one is looking.

Add a small pile of roasted tomatoes on top. Then finish with some torn leaves of basil and a squeeze of lemon. Feel free to add a nice flaky salt on top too.

I can tell you from experience that these lacy, sweet and salty cookies go quite nicely with hot chocolate on a lazy sick day. Early in the morning we declared it a pajama day at our house and I can think of no better lazy day activity then giving a lesson in Mexican hot chocolate and how to use a molinillo. A certain four year old also got a lesson in the art of chocolate drizzling (can you guess which ones he did?) and we all learned that a 10 am hot chocolate and cookie break is indeed a great way to pass the time.

Of course it’s traditionally almonds in a Florentine but as I was developing this recipe for a class I taught at the Pantry recently a bag of peanuts sat nearby and I thought, “why not?” Where corn syrup usually is I added in maple syrup and I think honey would be lovely here too. It’s a simple cookie that comes together quickly yet tastes of something special. My next move is crumbling up a few and scattering them over vanilla ice cream and while I’m at it I may even pour some of that leftover hot chocolate on top. Oh boy.

Salted Peanut Florentines

5 dozen 3 inch cookies, or 2 1/2 dozen sandwich cookies

1 3/4 cups roasted peanuts

3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

3/4 cup sugar

1/4 cup heavy cream

1/4 cup maple syrup

1 stick (4 ounces) butter

1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

flake salt for finishing

Chocolate Topping, optional: 2 to 4 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped

Position a rack in the center of the oven and preheat to 350 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with a silicone baking mat or parchment paper.

Pulse the peanuts in a food processor until finely chopped, but not pasty. Stir together the nuts, flour and salt in a large bowl.

Put the sugar, cream, maple syrup and butter in a small saucepan. Cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until mixture comes to a rolling boil and sugar is completely dissolved. Continue to boil for 1 minute. Remove from heat and stir in the vanilla, then pour mixture into peanut mixture and stir just to combine. Set aside until cool enough to handle, 10 minutes. As the batter sits it will firm up. Once at room temperature you may need to form the batter into a rough ball with your hands.

Scoop rounded teaspoons (for 3-inch cookies) or rounded tablespoons (for 6-inch cookies) of batter and roll into balls. Place on prepared baking sheet, leaving about 3 to 4 inches between each cookie since they spread.

Top with a sprinkle of flakey salt (such as Maldon).

Bake 1 pan at a time, until the cookies are thin and an even golden brown color throughout, rotating pans halfway through baking time, about 10 to 11 minutes. Cool on baking sheet for 5 minutes, then transfer to racks to cool. Repeat with remaining batter. Serve.

Optional chocolate topping: Put the chocolate in a medium heatproof bowl. Bring a saucepan filled with 1 inch or so of water to a very low simmer; set the bowl over, but not touching, the water. Stir the chocolate occasionally until melted and smooth. (Alternatively, put the chocolate in a medium microwave-safe bowl. Melt at 50 percent power for 30 second intervals in the microwave. Stir, and continue heat until completely melted.)

For sandwiches: Drop about 1/2 teaspoon chocolate onto on the flat side of half of the cookies and press together with remaining halves. Return to rack and let chocolate set.

For chocolate decor: Drizzle melted chocolate over Florentines as desired. Set aside at room temperature until chocolate is set.

Store baked cookies carefully, separated by parchment or waxed paper, in an airtight container for up to 3 days.

Before we get any further I wanted to say a couple things. Over the last week or so I found myself sitting at the computer with the intention of responding to your comments from the last post and I couldn’t do it. Everything I tried to write seemed too trite and wasn’t able to capture how grateful, humbled and encouraged I am by your support. I’ll read all of those comments over and over throughout the process when I need a little boost. So thank you, thank you, thank you.

Also, and I can’t even believe that I get to write this, I was nominated for a Saveur award in the Best Cooking Blog category. I’m shocked, happy beyond belief and to be perfectly honest, would love to win. If you have a moment I’d LOVE if you could hop on over to their site and vote. There are so many great blogs in the running. I’m happy to have discovered a few new ones and to be among some great friends. Thanks, again.

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In one of those fits of luck where things align too perfectly for it to be a mere coincidence I find myself listening to Dearie, (Julia Child’s biography) and I’m just at the point where she is deep into writing Mastering the Art of French Cooking while I’m at the beginning of my own recipe testing and development. Her kitchen is littered with stacks of chicken stock splattered pages and she is spending hours a day in the kitchen working tirelessly to get her recipes perfect. I can relate.

As far as things go with my book I feel as if I’m just starting to build momentum and the process seemed that so foreign and daunting just a couple weeks ago is starting to feel doable, possible and even more thrilling than I had anticipated. It’s the sort of thrill that makes my entire body scream in unison, “this is what you are meant to be doing.” In fact that’s exactly what I texted to Gabe while I sat in the quiet of my parent’s house working on some of the narrative for the book. For me it’s more common to say to myself, “What am I doing?!” So I relish that moment when all seems right. I’ve bottled up some of that goodness and am reserving it for when my most harsh critics – the voices in my head – are at their worst.

Let’s get back to Julia – this is what happens when I ramble write, I forget where I was going. Actually to be perfectly honest I’m not sure where I’m going but I do know that I wanted to write something about her process. To learn about others’ process is like peering in through their living room window and at the risk of sounding like some sort of creeper, I love that. I’m fascinated by the process and how others have worked out their own systems in order to create and live out their passion. I’ve learned so much by the vulnerability of others and their willingness to let me peer into the way in which they work and I feel like I’m sitting at Julia’s table watching her work while I’m listening to this 30 hour tome of her life.

She is fastidious, passionate and incredibly focused on creating the best possible recipes for the american home cook. It’s as if Julia sees herself as a missionary with the purpose of sharing the wonders of French food in a way that is approachable and exact. She’s thinking of her reader constantly while revising again and again her method for mayonnaise. When Julia made batch after batch of an oily beurre blanc nantais (a simple sauce of butter, shallots, wine, vinegar and salt and pepper) she set out on a reconnaissance mission to a favorite restaurant that had the sauce perfected. By the end of the evening Julia had charmed her way into the restaurant’s kitchen and watched the sauce being made while she took copious notes for the book.

Mastering the Art of French Cooking took years of hard work, hundreds of pounds of butter and an incredibly supportive husband. But in the end the book is not only highly functional but her passion made it a work of art. I’m humbled by her pursuit to create such a book and find myself in the kitchen with a cake close to perfection but not quite and ask myself, “what would Julia do?”

She’d do it again and so will I.

One can imagine that our need for vegetables is high while our counters are continually littered with cakes, cookies and the random batch of cinnamon rolls I decided to make Sunday afternoon. While it’s easy for me to be okay with variations of a salad for many meals, my children and husband aren’t. So creativity and wooing comes into play. When it comes to food it’s easy to woo with say, chocolate but cauliflower is another thing. That is until you serve a crisp – actually, practically charred, entire head of cauliflower. It’s grand and serves as a blank canvas for those of us who like to improvise and create recipes from little bits of the pantry here and there.

I served whole roasted cauliflower at my birthday dinner this year. I’ve been meaning to tell you more about that night so I’ll save the details except that I wanted those that I was feeding to feel lavished. So there was whole roasted cauliflower (also, homemade sausage and that ice cream cake I already told you about). For the birthday cauliflower there was a simple lemon vinaigrette with capers (fresh and fried) and parsley. This time around I went with sun-dried tomatoes then took it a bit further with feta and mint. Landing a plate on the table with an entire head of cauliflower, crisp, sweet and topped with a vibrant red crown of sun-dried tomato vinaigrette makes one quickly forget that it’s actually cauliflower. I mean until a few years ago I thought cauliflowers greatest achievement was being next to the ranch on a vegetable platter. This is no vegetable platter.

It should also be noted that this simple vinaigrette of only four ingredients is also great with eggs, stirred into pasta and combined with white beans, olive oil, chili flakes, garlic and the pureeing power of a food processor to make a very fine dip of sorts.

Whole Roasted Cauliflower with Sun-Dried Tomato Vinaigrette

1 whole cauliflower, leaves and tough core removed

Drizzle the cauliflower with a bit of olive oil and salt and place on a baking sheet. Roast in a 450 degree F oven for 1 – 1/2 hours until charred in parts and tender throughout. Pierce the cauliflower with a knife to check the tenderness.

Meanwhile prepare the vinaigrette.

Sun-Dried Tomato Vinaigrette

I’ve left my vinaigrette be less of a dressing and more of a condiment. If you want it a bit thinner and to dribble down the dimpled florets of the cauliflower just add a bit of water at the end.

1/4 cup sundried tomatoes (about 6 large halves)

1/4 cup olive oil

3 tablespoons lemon juice

salt

Combine everything and adjust the seasoning to your liking. If you want a thinner vinaigrette add a bit of water a tablespoon at a time until thinned.

The cauliflower is a wonderful and impressive side dish on its own with a generous supply of feta and fresh mint or you can serve it with a simple kale risotto as I did. The sun-dried tomato vinaigrette loves this risotto almost as much as cauliflower.

Kale Risotto

1 cup water

1 cups chicken stock

1 large onion, diced

2 tablespoons butter

1/2 cup white wine

1 cup arborio rice

1 bunch kale, roughly chopped in 1 inch ribbons

1/4 teaspoon fresh ground nutmeg

salt

In a small saucepan heat the water and chicken stock to a simmer. Continue to keep it warm while making the risotto. This speeds up the cooking time and makes the rice creamier in the end.

Saute the onions with butter in a medium saucepan over medium high heat. Add a large pinch (about 1/4 teaspoon) kosher salt to the onions to help them break down and soften. Cook until the onions are tender and cooked through and just starting to turn golden around the edges, about 5-7 minutes.

Add the rice and stir to coat with the butter and onions. Pour in the wine and stir until the wine has been absorbed.

Add 1/2 cup of the warm water and stock mixture. Stir the rice until the liquid is mostly absorbed. Continue this process until the rice is tender with just a faint bite to it, similar to al dente pasta.

Turn down the heat to low and stir in the kale allowing the residual heat to wilt the greens. Stir in the fresh ground nutmeg. Remove the risotto from the stove, taste and add more salt. I stir in cheese at this point also. If I’m serving this with the cauliflower I add a bit of feta now and then more just before serving. Parmesan, ricotta and/or goat cheese are all good options as well. Consider your cheese choice when salting the risotto.

Serve with:

1/2 cup crumbled feta

fresh mint