Simply put, the end of the year swallowed me whole. In between a couple of quiet holidays in Atlanta I did a bit of much needed traveling, and then battled a brutal case of jet-lag. We closed out 2012 with a frigid family trip to NYC. There was the sharing of a stomach bug and punishing cold temperatures, but it didn’t make me love New York any less. In fact, it left me wondering if anything could make me love the city less.  Seeing the way it is punishing my dearest friends, admittedly puts a little dent in those feelings, but then I think they’ll sort it out and somehow become more amazing in the process (even weeks later when I read this). In any event, the visit was a great way to start up the new year. I came home feeling recharged, clinging to moments of occasional contentment, ready to meet 2013 with resolve. And then, before I could pull myself together I started to feel myself unravel. The rhythmic ups and downs made no notice of the new year. The last six weeks have followed a pattern of good followed by bad and ugly, and now I’m exhausted. Leaving me feeling a wee bit fragile and frazzled, a sense of desperation always present, just beneath the surface.

While I’m doing my best to keep it together, I’m also wanting this year to be better. I want to be better. And while I wouldn’t say I’ve been doing anything with much success (other than checking up on obscure dinosaur facts for the inquisitive among us); I would say that I’m getting better about managing my kitchen, freezing things, repurposing leftovers, managing pantry stocks, and using food before it goes bad. Did you by chance catch this report about food waste? I’m certainly a guilty party on this front. I blame my attention span, but again, I want to be better. I have a slew of recipes to test and eventually share, but I’m trying to go about it in a leaner, more streamlined fashioned. If I can pull it off I think it’ll be better for everyone involved.

One of my favorite resources in this quest is Recipes for Health from the Well Section of the NYTimes. Just about every day Martha Rose Schulman comes up with clean and easy veggie-centric recipes. Like many, she started the year with a cleanse, only hers was a kitchen cleanse. Cook for a week without buying anything, she challenged (other than the bananas and milk that your toddler requires, thank goodness for exceptions!) I took her up on the challenge, and it was a perfect undertaking. I made lots of soups, rice and lentil salads, baked some bread (forgot the salt) even tried my hand at making yogurt. While not much is ready for primetime, the process has been an incredibly valuable exercise. (You should try it!)

I’ve taken my love of lists and applied it to what I plan to make with what I buy. I know this is not revolutionary, except that it sort of is for me. It provides some focus to my whimsical, totally unfocused approach to food. Sometime soon I hope to take it to the next level by building cohesive meals, balanced for flavors and nutrition. I get dizzy at the prospect of being that competent in the kitchen.

In the midst of a quiet fridge cleanse, I offer you this recipe for a bright, clean soup. Loaded with greens and short on fat, it’s good on the resolutions front. While my thoughts continue to do such a stellar job of weighing me down, I dare say this soup feels optimistic- beaming with Meyer lemon juice. In fact it pairs well with the unseasonably warm days we’ve had in Atlanta this week. And with that, Happy belated New Year folks!

Lemon and Chard Soup

adapted from a Yotam Ottolenghi on Bon Appetit

Ingredients

• 1 bunch of Swiss Chard, center stalks removed (spinach would also be nice)
•  1/2 cup chopped parsley
•  1/4 cup chopped cilantro
•  1/4 cup chopped mint (or any 1 cup assortment of herbs you have on hand)
•  1 large yellow onion, diced
•  2 large cloves of garlic, smashed
•  2 tbsp olive oil
•  1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
•  4 cups of stock
• 2-3 tbsp on fresh lemon juice (meyers are my favorite) plus more for garnish
• 1/3 cup plain yogurt

Garnishes

Fresh herbs, yogurt, olive oil, lemon oil, toasted nuts (walnuts!) cooked rice, feta crumbles, slices of lemon.

Preparation

In a medium stock pan heat olive oil. Add onion and garlic. Cook over medium heat for 8-10 minutes, until onions are translucent. Add nutmeg, season with salt and then add all the greens and cover with stock. Bring to a boil, then reduce to simmer for 10 minutes or so (until the greens are cooked through).

Working in batches puree until smooth and return to the pot. Stir in lemon juice 1 tablespoon at a time. Be sure to taste it! I love a really lemony soup, so I used the full 3 tablespoons, but the initial recipe only called for one.

In a separate bowl combine yogurt and 1 cup of soup in 1/3 cup increments (so three increments). Stir to combine and then add the yogurt mixture to the soup pot and stir to uniformity.

Serve with the garnishes of your choice. I first enjoyed it topped with tabbouleh, then simply lemon slices and crumbled feta. The next day I liked it very much with leftover brown rice.

It was a simple statement, little more than an observation, “You sure do like eating apples and cheddar cheese.” The implication of course, is that D was feeling a little left out of this enjoyment. Or maybe that he was finding it understandably boring. A fitting snack, it certainly does not pass for a proper meal. No, not even when I add a variety of crackers and include that black pepper applesauce or some nice salami. I know that! I was feeling guilty about it, too, but as is the case with most things lined with guilt there is something enticing about it, too.

Look, I’m not tired of apple slices and cheddar cheese. I’m perfectly content to cower in the corner of my kitchen, nibbling away like a little mouse, gripping my crackers and cheese with two hands. But I do acknowledge that it is not a proper dinner meal, even if you eat a lion-sized serving. It’s also not terribly creative, it’s doing little to incorporate variety in our diet or advance my mission of getting Oliver to try new foods. Guilty as charged.

In my defense, my infamous apple-cheddar platter fully encompasses some of Oliver’s very favorite foods, so its pretty much guaranteed he’ll eat it without a fuss. Perhaps it started as a snack, and then he asked ‘more please for some apples and cheese’ and I thought, lets just make a meal out of it! It was just too easy. I admit it got out of hand. Also, at the risk of sounding whiny, eating for one and a picky half can be really tough sometimes! When D is on the road, dinners are a bit lonelier, and because Oliver is at an antsy toddler stage, they lack the pomp and circumstance of gathering around the table. I tend to eat by myself at Oliver’s little table, while he runs around gabbing on and on about therapods being carnivores and sometimes being scary.  So nothing new here, a toddler appetite is tough to count on. Half the time it leads to a fight, if he’s even interested in eating at all. Even when the dinner has a proven track record there’s really only a 50/50 chance he’ll eat a healthy serving. So I pick my battles, and sometimes take the path of least resistance, its 2 parts laziness to 1 part preservation of sanity.

These scones are the answer to a couple of my problems. With a generous handful of shredded cheddar they’re cheesy, but then they’re speckled with chunks of roasted apples. They’re sweet and savory with a crunchy outside, so we’ve got those bases covered. Bonus, they freeze remarkably well. So if D’s out of town I can bake off just two of them and save the rest for a rainy day. I know scones are sort of a breakfast staple, but I’ve been serving them alongside bowls of soup and salad, and it’s pretty much guaranteed there’s something for everyone.

A couple notes on the recipe, I started with Smitten Kitchen’s recipe which was wonderful and airy, almost biscuit-like. I wanted a slightly sturdier scone, and I wanted to use a bit of spelt flour so I married it with Tartine’s recipe for buttermilk scones. I can’t help but want to add a little bit of spelt flour to everything these days. It’s not just that it’s a bit healthier. It has less gluten so it’s a little easier to digest, it’s higher in protein and has a wonderful nutty flavor that really perks up all-purpose flour.

Apple and Cheddar Spelt Scones

Helped along by Smitten Kitchen and Tartine

Ingredients

• 2 tart apples
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 3/4 cup spelt flour
• 1/4 cup sugar plus 1 tbsp for dusting
• 1/2 tbsp baking powder
• 1/2 tsp kosher salt.
• 6 tbsp cold, unsalted butter cut into 1//2 chunks
• 1/2 cup buttermilk
• 1/2 cup packed sharp cheddar cheese, shredded
• 1 lightly beaten egg plus 1 egg for wash

Preparation

Preheat your oven to 375. Peel and core apples and cut into 16-20 pieces. They’re about 3/4 inch dice. Roast for 20 minutes, the apples will be cooked but retain a little bit of texture. Allow to cool to room temperature.

In a large bowl combine the flours, salt and baking powder. Mix well and set aside.

In the bowl of a standing mixer, using a paddle attachment combine the butter, buttermilk, cheese, egg and apple slices. Mix on a low speed until rough mixture forms (no more than a minute). Add all of the flour mixture at once and mix on low speed just until a rough dough forms. Its ok if it doesn’t hold together on its own, you just basically want the dry ingredients to not be dry.

Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and shape into a disk about 3/4-inch thick. Lightly flour a knife and cut into 6 generous wedges. Transfer wedges to a parchment-lined baking sheet. Brush with egg wash and sprinkle with remaining sugar. At this point I’ve developed a habit of putting the sheet with the scones in the freezer for ten minutes. I feel like it helps a little with the final color and it helps the scones puff up some instead of spreading out, but I can’t tell you how or why. Bake at 375 for 30-35 minutes, until the scones have a nice caramel color.

If you are going to freeze some or all of the scones, leave in the freezer for an hour or two and then transfer to a plastic bag. When your ready to enjoy them, bake straight from the freezer for 40 minutes or until the tops are caramel colored. Let them cool for ten minutes and serve warm.

I’ve been eating versions of this sweet potato salad for the past week and a half, and I have to tell you, it’s a mini-Thanksgiving meal, minus the turkey and the food coma. Perhaps your rolling your eyes at yet another salad here. The more astute of you have certainly picked up on the way I’m ping-ponging between salad and cookies, so I guess I should just come clean right now: my diet consists mainly of salad and cookies. With the holidays just around the corner I’m not going to feel bad about all the cookies. This salad is big on treats, too, some of the best fall has to offer: roasted sweet potatoes, spiced pears, cranberries and well-toasted pecans.

This one comes with another trusty jar vinaigrette (I might never go back). This one, a spiced pear vinaigrette, takes cues from the vinaigrette from the cauliflower salad I told you about a few weeks ago.  There’s a lot of sweetness in this salad, between the sweet potatoes, the pears and the cranberries, a good-sized clove of smashed garlic and a handful of feta bring some needed balance. I thought for sure I’d tire of this salad after three straight days of having it for lunch or dinner or both, but instead its just setting the stage for the most wonderful meal of the year. Have you started to craft your Thanksgiving menu? I love hearing what people are most excited to make. I’ve been distracted and honestly feel unprepared, except when I’m eating this salad, and then I’m totally ready. Bring on the gravy.

Roasted Sweet Potato and Pear Salad

I’d be remiss if I didn’t share the salad that inspired it all.

Serves 2 as a main 4 as a side

Ingredients

• 1 medium sized sweet potato, cut at a 1/2 dice
• 1 medium pear, 1/2 dice
• 5-6 cups mixed greens
• 1/4 cup dried cranberries
• 1/3 cup well-toasted pecans
• 1/4 cup crumbled feta
• 2 tbsp olive oil
• 2 tbsp pear juice
• 2-3 tsp rice vinegar
• 1/4 tsp all-spice
• 1/4 tsp cinnamon
• 1 large garlic clove, smashed
• 1 tsp chopped fresh sage (optional)

Preparation.

Preheat oven to 375. Toss diced sweet potato with a tablespoon of olive oil and 1/4 tsp salt. Spread on a lined baking sheet and roast for 25 minutes, stirring every ten minutes to make sure the pieces roast evenly. After 25 minutes mix in the diced pears and return to the oven for 10 minutes more.  (This can be done ahead of time.)

To make the vinaigrette, combine all ingredients in a small jar and shake until well combined. Set aside for 20 minutes or more, allowing for the flavors to meld. While the potatoes and pears are still warm toss with the vinaigrette in a large bowl. Add the greens to the bowl and toss to coat with the dressing. Finish the salad by topping with remaining ingredients. If your feeling iffy on a sweeter salad, use less cranberries, or omit them altogether, but whatever you do, don’t hold back on the pecans.

When my copy first arrived I ran straight to the coffee shop, where I hunched over in a corner and slowly flipped through it, page by beautiful page. While the recipes for cookies and foccacia and a host of wonderful sandwiches were all highly anticipated, I paced myself and read through the introductions and kitchen wisdom in the front of the book.

This initial reading of the cookbook bowled me over. The perfectness of this simple little sandwich shop, serving food that is both accessible and elevated, is underscored by its heartfelt place in their community. Saltie opened shortly after our move to New York and in the three years since they have stitched themselves into Williamsburg so seamlessly. It’s not just appreciation for their costumers, or their small local producers that had brought me to happy tears, but the way the women who own and run the shop talk about each other – their talents and their hopes for each other. I put the book down with the resolve that the world simply needs more women-owned businesses. When I daydream about my own someday shop, places like Saltie are certainly an inspiration. And that’s what I planned to talk about when I told you about this book – about the magic of Saltie and women-owned businesses.

But then the same water that Saltie took inspiration from overwhelmed the banks and took to the streets, flooding New York and New Jersey something terrible.  I’ve been glued to the television and the New York Times for the last week. My stomach creeps into up into my throat when I see rows of taxis submerged, lower Manhattan subway stations up to their turnstiles in water, bus lines stretching back four and five blocks back at six in the morning, roller-coasters underwater, the Jersey shore boardwalk destroyed, houses in Staten Island leveled, keepsakes strewn about, Breezy Point in ashes, it leaves me speechless. I can’t look away. Anything I might want to say or do on this space is trite compared to the challenges facing those affected by the storm.

As distressing as it is, I know the city will bounce back, and in the process the stronger folks will scoop up those in need and help them along. We’re seeing plenty of triumphant and heartwarming examples. Nate Silver (another thing I need a lot of this time of year) tweeted, “Almost all of the national chains in my neighborhood are closed. Almost all of the local, independent businesses are open”, I wasn’t surprised. Andrew Zimmern tweeted, “walking around the city. Restaurant and foodservice people are feeding, helping, triumphing over adversity. As always, food people get it.”

I’ve worked service industry jobs for the last ten years. I’ve been proud of the work I’ve done, and by focusing on the community I was a part of I’ve found great satisfaction in every job I’ve held. Much to my parents’ dismay I’ve treated it like a career, but there’s no denying the service industry is not glamorous. I’m ok with it. In this time of crisis, while people are short on power and hot food, and feeling just generally battered, the service industry is tying these neighborhoods together. From Red hook to the Rockaways, and everywhere in between, folks are cooking for one another, collecting supplies for the hardest hit areas. Within hours of Sandy blowing through town, coffee shops were racing to open. If they had power their doors were open, now like many they are collecting food and supplies for other. I’m so proud of New York.

And so, today I made the buckwheat and olive shortbread from saltie’s cookbook, curled up on my couch to watch the updates, feeling heartsick and yet keenly aware of my good fortunes. We’re sending out love to the beloved northeast as it sets out on the road to recovery, doing what it can to dry out, power up and bounce back.

Buckwheat and Olive Shortbread

Adapted from Saltie

Ingredients

• 1 cup buckwheat flour
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 3/4 teaspoon salt
• 2 sticks room temperature butter
• 2/3 cup Sugar
• 2 egg yolks
• 1/3 cup roughly chopped kalamata olives into small pieces (they don’t need to be uniform, just small-ish)
• turbinado sugar for rolling or sprinkling

Preparation

In a large bowl combine the flours and salt. Set aside.

In the bowl of a standing mixer, using a paddle attachment, cream the butter and sugar until fluffy. (about 3 minutes). Add egg yolks one at a time. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and add all the flour mixture.  Mix on low speed until uniform in texture. Add olives, and mix until evenly distributed. This may be easier to do with a wooden spoon than with your mixer.

Scoop dough onto a piece of parchment or wax paper. (At this point you can divide the dough in half, between two pieces of wax paper, which I found helpful.)Pat it out into a log shape, running the length of the paper. Snuggly wrap the paper around the dough, smoothing out irregularities and refrigerate for at least an hour, up to a week. I’ve been baking off half batches for the last week. The shortbread keeps well for a few days in an air-tight container at room temperature.

Preheat oven to 375. Roll cookie dough in turbinado sugar and slice dough into 1/3 inch thick slices. You can also sprinkle the sugar on top of the slices just before you put in the oven. Bake cookies for 20 minutes, until golden brown around the edges, rotating pan halfway through. The recipe in the book instructs you to press dough out into a greased and parchment lined 10×10 baking pan and bake for the same 20 minutes, serving in 2×2 squares. This made for a softer shortbread, which tasted just fine but I wanted a little more snap. You could chalk this up to my faulty oven, and my anxious baking, but treating them like a slice and bake gives you a little more control on yield. Plus they’re cute.

Also, if your on the fence about a cookie with olives, try a batch without them. Its a great showcase of buckwheat flour with the touch of salt and tons of butteriness you’d expect from shortbread. The olives caramelize while the cookies bake and end up having a really wonderful and briny currant-like flavor. Don’t be intimidated!

“Is it FOOD?” he follows up. “It is,” I say. “Who eats that?” he continues, “Well, I like to eat it,” I say. “And who else?” he persists. “I think your Dad eats celery.” “And who else?” he persists. The answer he’s looking for is The Wonder Pets. The Wonder Pets eat celery. I could name a hundred people that eat celery, but all Oliver cares to know about celery is that it can be pet food. And I know he’s not alone in his under-appreciation of celery. It’s generally treated with indifference, used for stocks and a nice mirepoix, rarely is it set out on a pedestal and loved in its own right.

Whenever I start talking about celery, something I admit happens frequently, my declarations of love are always greeted with puzzled looks and blanks stares. I don’t blame my audience I’m always trying to put into words the elusive thing that really gets me about celery, and it never makes much sense. There’s something sort of spicy in it? Not hot spicy, but there’s some sort of spiced note in the way celery finishes. It’s the difference between the really dark green celery of the farmers’ market (if your lucky enough) and the standard, pale and watery stuff of the supermarket. I lack the words to describe it but I know its there and that its wonderful.  I know, its at this moment that you’d never believe I’d built a tiny career around talking about flavor and tasting (or maybe that’sthe moment my current underemployment makes more sense). Anyway, from here on out, whenever I talk about my love of celery I will simply refer people to this salad, because the mix of cinnamon and allspice is such a perfect extension of the way nice celery finishes, hinting at something earthier.

But the vinaigrette doesn’t stop there. It also picks up on the sweetness and toastiness of roasted cauliflower (in itself a wonderful thing), tying together these seemingly unconnected vegetables. In the original recipe the focus is really on the cauliflower, rich and buttery, roasted until caramel colors seep into the edges and in the flavor, and the celery is there more for textural crunch. Don’t get me wrong, I could eat roasted cauliflower just about every day. But I took one bite of the celery seasoned with this vinaigrette and I tripled it on the spot. With handfuls of hazelnuts, olives and/or pomegranate seeds, this salad is plenty satisfying in its crunch, and occasional saltiness. With all the extra celery it feels both virtuous and indulgent, just perfect for when I’m of two or three minds about what to have for lunch.

This recipe can be found in Yotam Ottolenghi’s new book Jerusalem but I read about it on the lovely blog Love and Lemons while I was waiting for my copy to come in the mail. Both sources deserve a bit of your attention! When your looking for celery look for the deepest green stalks with the fullest leaves as the leaves are part of the salad (and really the most excellent garnish I know)

Roasted Cauliflower and Celery Salad

From Jerusalem via Love and Lemons

Makes 4 servings as a side dish

Ingredients

• 1 head of cauliflower, broken down into florets
• 2-3 stalks of celery plus 1/2 cup of celery leaves
• 2 tb hazelnuts
• 1/4 cup pomegranate seeds (optional, for a more sweet salad)
• 1/4 cup sliced kalamata olives (optional, for a more savory salad)
• 5 tb olive oil divided
• 1 tb red wine vinegar
• 1.5 tsp maple syrup
• 1/4 tsp allspice
• 1/4 tsp cinnamon

Preparation

Preheat oven to 450. Toss cauliflower florets with 3 tablespoons of olive oil, season with salt and spread on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Roast the cauliflower for 35-45 minutes until cauliflower is golden. Remove from oven and let cool. Lower oven temperature to 325. Toast hazelnuts for 7-10 minutes, until fragrant and the skins start to blister and peel. Let cool.

To mix up your vinaigrette, put the remaining olive oil and the last 4 ingredients listed in a jar and shake until emulsified. I’m a total fan of mixing vinaigrettes in mason jars, it makes cleaning up that much easier. I digress.  Chop celery into 1/4 inch slices at an angle. Coarsely chop the leaves and hazelnuts.

To pull it all together, put all ingredients in a bowl, add vinaigrette and mix to coat. Season with salt and pepper and divide. Serves 2-4 as a side dish.

The first few times the saffron row was picked clean and I was relieved to have the decision made for me. But the surest way to make something more desirable is to tell someone no, even people without kids know that. So a week went by and I grew more curious with each passing day. How would it work? Would the saffron balance the sweetness of the snickerdoodle? Because honestly I’ve always found those blonde little cookies much too cloying. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve never been interested in whipping up a batch in my own kitchen. That is of course, until you put the word saffron in front of it, and then of all of sudden the word snickerdoodle never sounded so classy.

Should it be a special occasion? Could I do something to perhaps earn a saffron-laced cookie? Two workouts in one day? Scrub the floor? Do something with the clothes that Oliver has outgrown? Or maybe some of his toys? Surely he doesn’t need that entire chest of toys. And then, as I plopped myself down on the couch it hit me. Or rather it stabbed me. The guilty “it” was a two-inch plastic stegosaurus burrowed into the couch cushions. He was joined by an army of comrades, taking cover in my cushions, all waiting for the opportunity to land a deafening blow to my soft, unprotected backside. (Sigh.) (Double sigh actually, how did we accumulate an army of plastic toys? As a new parent I was adamantly, albeit idealistically, opposed to all the plastic. We’d have wooden ones I insisted!) So I rubbed my side and looked at my beloved couch, roughed up with toys and grubby fingerprints. I thought about all the times that I’d been kicked out of my own bed, the times my showers had been cut short, and my workspace taken over and I laughed. I deserve a cookie.

Now all I had to do was wait for the grocery store to replenish its’ stock. And then the universe stepped in, rescuing me from all this silly wrestling and waiting. That same day I was working out a pancake-for-dinner plan and was at a loss for where I had put the last little bit of honey. My mess of a spice drawer, or rather the haphazard spice section of my cupboard, was being quite tight-lipped about the whereabouts of the honey jar. I was sure I had some, somewhere. Fast forward twenty minutes to  thirty jars scattered on my already crowded counter, half a dozen tins towering about. And would you believe a tiny little bottle of saffron, previously doing its best to remain hidden, comes rolling out of the cupboard and practically falls into my lap. It could only mean one thing; I did indeed deserve a saffron-laced cookie.

And so I made them, and they were quite lovely. The saffron lends a sort of earthiness to the cookie, mellowing out some of that snickerdoodle sweetness. They are wonderfully soft and chewy; if you nail the baking time the center has a hint a gooeyness to it, while the edges have an ever so slight crunch. My favorite thing is the way the flavors linger long after you’ve polished off a cookie or two. Rather than the cloying sweetness of the snickerdoodles of my past, these have a delicate, soft and fragrant, kind of finish. I was a little nervous the fragrance might be off-putting to D+O, but they easily won their approval. Who was I fooling? Oliver’s never met a cookie he didn’t like.

Of course you knew that I wasn’t done with all that silly wrestling, right? Sure the universe was telling me I deserved these cookies, and I believed what the universe was telling me, but I just couldn’t resist swapping out some of the all-purpose flour for a bit of whole-wheat flour. I told myself it was flavor driven, because the faint earthiness reminded me of that sort of grassy flavor found in whole-wheat flours. It doesn’t hurt to make a sweet thing a little more responsible, right? By that line of thinking I think I’ve earned, ahem, I deserve a few more.

Saffron-Scented Snickerdoodles

adapted from The Blue Bottle Craft of Coffee by way of 101 Cookbooks

Ingredients

• 30 strands of ground saffron
• 1/2 vanilla bean
• 2 1/2 tablespoons of milk
• 1 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup whole wheat flour
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter at room temperature
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1 room-temperature egg
• 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

Preparation

Crush the saffron in a mortar and pestle until it becomes a fine powder. You can also chop the threads with a knife until very fine. Keep in mind that the finer the saffron powder the clearer the flavor and more vibrant the color of the cookies will be.

Split the vanilla bean open and scrape the seeds into a small saucepan. To that same pan add the milk, saffron powder and the remaining vanilla pod. Warm over low heat until bubbles begin to appear. Remove from heat, scrape milk mixture in a small bowl and allow to steep for 10 minutes.

In a medium sized bowl sift together flours and baking soda. Set aside

Using the paddle attachment on the standing mixer, beat the butter on low speed until creamy, about 2 minutes. Add both sugars and salt and beat until well combined, about 2 minutes. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and mix on medium until pale and fluffy, about 5 minutes.

Remove the vanilla pod from the milk mixture and add the egg and vanilla extract. Whisk until well blended. With the mixer on medium, slowly add the milk mixture. When its all been added mix on medium for 30 seconds, stop and scrape down the sides and bottom of the bowl. Mix for another 30 seconds. Once more scrape down the sides and add all of the flour. With your mixer on low, stir just until the dough is a uniform consistency.

Using a spatula, scrape dough into a bowl lined with plastic wrap, wrap up and refrigerate for at least 3 hours, preferably overnight.

Preheat oven to 375. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Scoop out dough in 2 tbsp (1/8 cup) measurements and place on baking sheet, at least 2 inches apart. Bake for 13 minutes, rotating half way through.

Like most cookies these are best the day they are made, I’ve been baking off a sheet of cookies every other day for the last week, and I tell you this, they’ve been as enjoyable with an afternoon coffee as with my evening glass of wine.

I’ve been having a string of long slow days that seem to quiet early and then draw out past midnight before I drag myself to bed. Come morning I act surprised when I can’t seem to wake up and put things in gear. Sunrise isn’t enough to drag me out of my comfy nest of a bed, but coffee is. D’s had a week or two of early starts which means I have to get my caffeine before he leaves for the day (or else be at the mercy of pokey O and the stick hunts). Most mornings I stumble, half awake, to the coffee shop only to realize I hadn’t brushed my hair or teeth. Sigh.

I know autumn is a natural time to draw down and relax. Believe me, I’m taking it to heart, but we’ve got things to do! Oliver has lucked into a standing playdate twice a week, soo we’re happy for friends, and I’m happy for morning hours to collect my thoughts. Its quite calming and liberating, if only it didn’t hinge on getting out the door on time. We just have to get used to getting up early, packing a lunch, get some breakfast in our bellies and step out looking presentable (i.e. teeth and hair brushed). You know, what most people would call functioning. Its going to take some time.

Call me crazy but I’m convinced the hazy lazy mornings are affecting my palate, too. Plainly speaking, soft and subtle just won’t cut it these days. Remember when I joked about tripling the pepper stated in a recipe? I wasn’t really joking. Lately the only cure for my palate malaise is olives. I want to eat olives at every meal a whole meal of just olives. Unless there’s a pear, at the peak of ripeness, in which case, I’m in heaven. I know I should be working on the last of those apples, but I can’t stop buying pears. It helps that the farmers’ market is slowly transitioning to fall and all the produce stands have are greens and pears. The pears make it worth the trip.

The only thing more satisfying than having Mark Bittman affirm your thoughts on pears is when he gives you ten (yes, ten!) easy pear recipes to boot. When I saw a salad with oranges and olives and arugula, I thought, ‘this might be perfect lunch to give my palate a much needed jolt’. This salad is full of beautiful and assertive flavors, and with a simple jar vinaigrette, its easy breezy to fix. I have no trouble whipping it up while half my attention is held by rambling stories about carnivorous dinosaurs with sharp teeth and long tails, which is really important because I’ll be quizzed on it later.

I almost feel silly posting this, as it’s so simple. I’m just a little crazy for all the flavors. Each bite is a mix and match of really strong flavors that some how play off each othe rather than drowning each other out. Olives and oranges, feta and pears. Arugula and mint. Oh don’t be shy about the mint, because mint with orange is so refreshing! Olives are pears. Pears with anything, it all makes me a little dizzy with satisfaction.

I’ll admit i’m gripping that sense of satisfaction a little too tight. The fall finds me with a definite longing to feel more settled, to have more answers and more concrete plans.  While daily routines and playdates give a glimpse of reassurance, most days I just feel at odds with something or all things. But then I eat this salad, and I think, all these flavors are so different, and they get along so well. Being different from my surroundings doesn’t mean I have to be at odds with them. This is what happens when you hear too many stories about talking dinosaurs roaming the cretaceous period for their friends and flowers-you imagine your food is talking to you and it has something important to say.

Pear Salad with Olives and Orange

Adapted from Mark Bittman in the NYTimes Magazine

Ingredients

Jar Vinaigrette

• 1/2 cup olive oil
• 1/4 cup red wine vinegar
• 1 tbsp chopped cilatro
• salt & pepper

Salad

• 2 cups arugula
• 1/3 cup chopped mint
• 1 pear
• 1 segmented orange
• 1/4 olives
• 1/4 feta

To make the vinaigrette place oil, vinegar an cilantro in a jar, seal the lid and shake until uniform. (I’ve come to like a 2:1 ration of oil to vinegar, but the classic ratio is 3:1) Season with salt and pepper and give it another shake.

To assemble the salad toss the arugula with a scant tablespoon of vinaigrette. Add remaining ingredients and gently toss. Add vinaigrette to taste. I recommend starting with a conservative application of the vinaigrette because the elements of the salad sort of add to the dressing because they are sort of moist (think olive brine and and ripe pears).

And remember, Bittman offered nine other pear recipes, including pear salsa! Just in case your missing summer tomatoes…

In the ups and downs that have followed since that first whirlwind courtship, kale salads and I have gone in fits and spurts, but I admit I’m happier, and healthier, when we’re on good terms. Since returning to Atlanta after our month-long Ohio visit, I’ve been trying my best to feel settled, to sort out a routine, to figure out the secrets of actually getting things done. This mainly means during the week Oliver and I busy ourselves with the business of maintaining the house, with breaks for exercise and trips to the zoo. It’s a two steps forward one step back sort of thing. I can manage to do a load of laundry over the course of the day, but a week later I haven’t quite found the motivation to fold it and put it away.

Its the same for my beloved salads, two steps forward, one step back. While my appetite for kale salads has been in full force ever since those beautiful golden meyer lemons starting popping up at the grocery store, I’m routinely running into road blocks. For whatever reason, kale has been on short supply. Its presence on the produce shelves is fleeting at best, I practically have to luck into shopping when they are restocking the greens to score a bunch. And if I go back the next day, (because yes, I go to the grocery store three times a week) they’ll most likely be sold out, and my craving, which at this point has grown into a dire need, goes unsatisfied.

I know it sounds like a silly problem to have, but remember, I’m a healthier and happier person with my kale salad habit, and no, spinach or arugula just wont cut it. They lack the heft of the kale. But I do recognize the silliness of the whole situation, and to be honest, I’ve just grown tired of trips to the grocery store starting out with disappointment; I need a back-up plan.

Enter swiss chard. Beautiful chard, with autumn colors in its veins, turns out to be an excellent salad green. In my error I’d relegated chard to soups and stir-fries, where it becomes soft and sweet. I never thought it would shine through in a raw salad, but to my surprise, it does. I slice it the same way I do kale, in the thinnest ribbons my attention can manage, but I’ve traded the lemon juice for a cider vinaigrette because a trip to the apple orchard yielded a gallon of cider begging to be put to good use. Said vinaigrette turns out to be a perfect thing in its own right. Its balanced -sweet, but not too, with clear flavors and not bogged down with too much oil. And its proven to be a bit of a kitchen workhorse; I’ve been adding a bit of it to bowls of rice, to broiled vegetables, sliced apples. It’s lovely in a salad with a bit of blue cheese. I’m relieved to have so much cider on hand, because its become my go-to dressing for the fall. And as for the swiss chard, the cider goes right to the thing that makes the chard sweet and pleasing and turns it up.

A simple salad of well-dressed chard is an easy way to add some greens to a dinner plate, but I’ve been making a meal out of my chard salads, naturally. I’ve been adding roasted squash and handfuls of rice and various toasted seeds, playing with sweet and salty flavors, soft and crunchy textures. It’s as satisfying as the best of my kale salads and it comes with important lessons about trying new things and turning disappointments on their head. I know I just spent this whole post going on and on about kale, leading you to believe chard to be a sort of second fiddle, a compromise, but in fact, I’m excited about this autumn salad. And that’s what I’m taking away from this dish, sometimes you find things worth celebrating in unlikely places.

Autumn Chard Salad

Ingredients

• 1 bunch of swiss chard
• 2 cups roasted squash (I used a red kuri squash)
• 1 cup cooked rice
• 1/2 cup pomegranate seeds
• 1/2 cup sunflower seeds

Cider Vinaigrette  from Barefoot Contessa via The Sprouted Kitchen

• ¾ cup apple cider
• 2 tbsp. apple cider vinegar
• 2 tbsp. chopped shallots
• 2 tsp. dijon mustard
• 1/4 cup olive oil
• salt and pepper

Preparation

To roast the squash, preheat your oven to 425. Cut squash in half, scoop seeds out, brush with olive oil and sprinkle with salt. Place squash halves face down on a parchment lined baking sheet. Roast squash until tender, about 45 minutes. Remove from oven and let cool. When cool enough to handle, remove peel and cut into cubes. Toss to coat with 1 tbsp of vinaigrette and set aside.

To make vinaigrette, in a small sauce pan under high heat combine cider, vinegar and shallots and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium and let simmer for 8-10 minutes, until reduced roughly by half. In the bowl of a food processor combine dijon, olive oil and cider reduction. Puree until smooth, season with salt, pepper and a pinch of chili flakes if your feeling bold. Set aside to cool.

Cut out the tough center stalk of the chard. Lay leaves on top of each other and roll them up lengthwise. Slice very thin, creating long thin ribbons of greens. (At this point I usually rinse them, but you could also clean the leaves before you slice them). Sprinkle lightly with salt to soften.

To build the salad, toss greens with 1 tbsp of the vinaigrette, divide among two plates. Mix another tbsp of vinaigrette with the cup of cooked rice and sprinkle evenly over eat plate of greens. Add 1 cup of squash to each plate and finish with a scattering of pomegranate and sunflower seeds. (If this sounds too tedious you can also through all the ingredients in one big bowl, dress the salad and then divide, I just find it easier to distribute everything evenly going step by step.)

Enjoy! For a speedier meal you can roast your squash ahead of time. Vinaigrette keeps well in the fridge for up to two weeks.

While I’m a bit sad about the beautiful summer produce that has passed on, I couldn’t be more anxious for fall. For shorter days to be dressed up in soups and sweaters, pizzas and spiked ciders, to be capped with evening walks to marvel at the changing trees. Last weekend we decided to act quite fall-like and took Oliver to an apple orchard in northern Georgia. This far south the leaves haven’t quite changed yet, but that hasn’t stopped the apples from falling.

We walked through rows upon rows of hobbit looking trees cradling tiny red and golden gems. Crisp air filled our lungs with the sickly sweet smell of apples rotting underfoot, while we searched for apples weighing down branches with their ripeness. I was expecting the adventure to be something Oliver would relish in, much like the strawberry picking we did in the spring. These days is seems we can’t take Oliver anywhere without him marveling at the range of sticks surrounding him. Apple picking was a bit tricky for the little guy because it required him to turn his attention away from the sticks at his feet and look upward, at least a little bit, and Oliver simply could not take his eyes of the ground. No amount of tempting by his parents would convince him, because he might just miss the perfect stick, one with a few branches sprouting off of one end, and that just might be the stegosaurus tail he’s been looking for all his life!

So David and I did most of the work. But that’s ok, because when Oliver wasn’t stick hunting he was wanting to take a bite out of every apple he picked. Don’t you know that he needed to eat those apples! I think the little bugger packed four of them away, bite by tiny bite, while we canvassed the orchard. We came home with half a bushel and plans for pies and sauce and butter. Now I’m knee deep into the week and I’ll admit I’ve been distracted by a dozen other things underfoot, but that basket full of apples is sitting on my table full of patience and promise.

But I have managed one beautiful use of our orchard apples. A dozen of them went into this caramel applesauce with black pepper. If you would, please allow me to a gush a bit, because I am just smitten with the way these flavors hit your palate. Its starts off with the rich sweetness you’d expect from any sort of caramel and finishes with a lovely punch of pepper. Don’t be nervous; its not the spicy, make you sneeze kind of peppery, just pure pepper flavor. It’s really quite lovely. I’ve been eating it by the spoonful and marveling at its perfection, honestly thinking of making it a rule to triple the amount of pepper a recipe calls for. Always. (Because you know how I am with hard and fast rules).

Finishing with a savory note makes this spread a great addition to a charcuterie plate, with a nice aged cheddar and maybe some country ham. It’d be a nice topping for a creamy cheese on toast, or just the thing to tip a grilled cheese sandwich into heavenly. Just a couple of suggestions, but really, there’s nothing wrong with eating it by the spoonful. Oliver is a little uncertain, but frankly I’m happy to make him a batch of standard applesauce and save the pepper spiked batch for myself. My to-do list tells me I should get to the rest of those apples, but I really just had to share this with you first.

Caramel Applesauce with Black Pepper

adapted from The Preservation Kitchen

Ingredients

1 1/4 cups sugar

2 tbsp chopped thyme

1 1/5 tsp freshly ground black pepper

2 cups apple cider

12 cups of cored, shredded apples (from 10-12 apples)

3 sterilized* pint jars

Preparation

In a large pot over medium high heat, melt sugar with 1/4 cup of water. The sugar should resemble wet sand. Cook until sugar begins to brown, occasionally swirling the pan to prevent the sugar from sticking and burning at the bottom of the ban. Cook until sugar becomes a deep golden amber. Lower the heat to medium low and carefully add the thyme and pepper (it can splatter and fry). Remove the pan from heat and carefully add the cider (again beware of splatters). Upon contact the sugar will seize up and harden.

Return the pot to the stove and simmer on medium heat until the cider dissolves into the caramel. This can take up to ten minutes, stir regularly to encourage the caramel to unstick itself from the bottom of the pan. Continue cooking until the cider is reduced by half. Stir in the apples, cover and cook for 5 minutes, allowing the apples to soften. Uncover and continue to cook until apples are broken down and sauce takes on a jam-like consistency, about 15 minutes. Remove from heat and allow to cool briefly. Pour mixture into bowl of a food processor and blend until smooth.

To sterilize the pint jars scald in a large pot of simmering water fitted with a rack. Just before you are ready to fill the jars remove them from the pot and place them on your counter. Place the lids in the pot to soften the seal.

Spoon applesauce into sterilized pint jars. Put lids in place and screw band on tightly. Wipe down the jars and lids and return them to the pot of water. Make sure the jars are covered with at least one inch of water. Bring the water to a boil. Process jars for 10 minutes starting from when the water reaches a boil. Turn off heat, and let the jars sit for another 10 minutes. Remove the jars and allow to cool completely on the counter.

When the update came that he was being released from the hospital, a week after his surgery, Oliver and I packed some bags and headed north to set up camp at my parents.  We proceeded to cook and clean, then cook some more, dirty-ing the counters and stove and then started the process again. Oliver enlisted his help in walking the little dog, only to be distracted by the tall task of dinosaur-morphizing all the sticks and leaves in the front yard. Inevitably he invited them in for a bite to eat and a play, and then proceeded to scatter them, and every toy we brought, all over the house in which I grew up. More to clean.

I find myself a bit amazed at just how adaptable the little guy is. Understandably, he was a bit shy the first couple of days; We were a little road weary, my dad was looking a little bit peaked and everyone was wearing their stress differently. But he warmed up to our new surroundings, and soon found himself happy for a larger audience that was both new to his tricks and half comprised of four-legged friends. Slowly my dad was on the mend, and some sense of routine crept into our days, I even sat in on a few writing classes at the university! Before we knew it, we’d been there a month. Our stint as de facto taxi and dishwasher was ending, and we set our sights on Atlanta again, with a slight detour at Dinosaur World. (!)

But we weren’t the only ones hitting the road. Turns out my dad had a bit of a comeback streak in him. During our third week in Ohio, just one month out from his surgery, his doctor cleared him to take the trip to Ireland my parents have been planning for the last year. We were all a bit stunned. The doctor said he’d have to be conservative of course, rest when needed, put his feet up, lay off the Guinness, but he thought the trip would be fine. So in one of the best deals I’ve ever heard of, my dad traded a bit of stir crazy and his recliner for eight days on the Green Isle.

With so many of us putting miles behind us, I indulged my mother’s requests for granola AND the recipe. Because granola is a perfect travel snack, don’t you think? Its chocked full of nuts and seeds to hold you over in between meals and rest stops, offering a bit of energy without weighing you down. Even D indulged on our long drive home.(!) I happen to think its a perfect snack for just about all the time – a sweet, salty and crunchy answer to my most-dogged cravings.  Of course it also makes a delicious breakfast with yogurt and a spoonful of fruit.

Perhaps you’ve had your share of granola or have come to see them as largely interchangeable. Maybe your wondering what makes this granola so special. That’s fair. Like any good answer, its complicated. The olive oil and coconut are a perfect pair, somehow bringing out the fruitiness in the olive oil while the maple brings a balanced bit of sweet. But its not just the well-paired flavors, the tempered sweetness and the highlight of coarse salt that makes this the best granola I’ve ever had. There’s something magic in the texture, all that olive oil acts as a slightly savory glaze to the mix of well-toasted nuts and seeds and somehow lightens up the crunch.   Each and every handful is pitch perfect. You can tweak to your tastes or what’s on hand. I’ve used walnuts before, and though I’ve never added dried fruits, Melissa Clark added dried apricots and pistachios to her version, and that seems to me a good compliment to coconut. The not-to-be omitted piece is the sunflower seeds, which bring an almost peanut flavor and added crunch.

Nekesia Davis has been incredibly generous with her recipe, I’ve seen it on a number of my favorite places  on the Internet, on Martha Stewart and in Melissa Clark’s In the Kitchen with a Good Appetite. Over time I’ve made small cut backs on the amount of oil, while upping the amounts of seeds. I swapped dark brown sugar for light, and added more seeds again, each time I make it I find myself marveling at the way it flirts with perfection. And then I do the right thing and I share half with my mom.

Olive Oil Granola

adapted from Early Bird Granola, via Martha Stewart

Ingredients

• 3 cups rolled oats
• 1 1/2 cups roughly chopped raw pecans
• 1 1/4 cups raw sunflower seeds
• 1 cup raw pepitas
• 1 cup unsweetened coconut flakes
• 1/2 cup olive oil
• 1/2 cup maple syrup
• 1/2 dark brown sugar
• 1 tsp kosher salt

Preparation

Preheat oven to 300.

In a large bowl combine first five ingredients, and stir to combine. Add olive oil, maple syrup and brown sugar and toss to coat. Spread oat mixture evenly on a rimmed baking sheet. Sprinkle salt evenly over top and bake for 45-50 minutes,stirring every ten minutes. As it gets close to being finished its important to take note of the colors of your granola. You want to bake until the oats show rich toast notes and the coconut strips take on a nice caramel color, the pecans will also become very fragrant.

There’s no denying what’s on the horizon. There are moments late at night where the air is almost cold. Sure the days still find ways to get all hot and bothered, but they have to work up to those temperatures, and when they do, it feels like summer’s thinly veiled effort to see if it still has the muster to make us sweat. But there’s no denying, this silly hot summer’s days are numbered.

Every day it seems autumn soup temptations seem to gather a bit of strength, and yet, I can’t shake a feeling that they somehow  defiant of summer’s bounty. With beautiful produce still spilling over the farmers’ market stalls and vegetable stands it seems these vegetables would retain more of their natural beauty marking up salads, and rice dishes, with little more seasoning than a sprinkle of salt and a splash of vinegar.

Somehow this eggplant and polenta seems like a good compromise. It involves a bit of simmering, pureeing and stir-frying, putting these anxious-to-actually-cook hands to work, while taking a bit of beautiful summer vegetables and reducing them to straight comfort food. This fresh corn polenta embodies everything you’d hope for in peak season corn; mainly its sweet, borderline toothsome, actually. With a touch of butter and some salt and pepper, its totally satisfying. When topped with a bit of eggplant sauce it has the markings of great comfort food, familiar and hearty enough to cut through chills, real and imagined.

The flesh of the eggplant will soak up oil like nobody’s business, so to cut back on the oil I decided to brush the diced eggplant with a bit of vegetable oil and broil it. You can also stir-fry the diced eggplant (you may need to do it in two rounds) or follow the directions via food52. As directed, When building your tomato sauce keep in mind that the polenta is sweet.  As directed is delicious, but knowing what you do about tomato sauces, experiment! Diced red pepper is a great compliment to the corn and tempers the sweetness of the stewed tomatoes, and a sprinkle of chili flakes to the tomato paste brings just a touch of heat to the final dish. I picked up some wonderfully fragrant oregano, bursting with lemony notes, but a handful of basil at the end would be lovely as well.

Sweet Corn Polenta with Broiled Eggplant Sauce

adapted from Ottolenghi’s Plenty via Food52