I have such an admiration for Julia Child. So, no surprise that I wanted to read this new biography of her.

The author, Bob Spitz, was an unknown to me. He has made a name for himself in the book world. He published a 1000-page tome of The Beatles: The Biography. He’s written for several magazines as well, and now, with this newest book in his repertoire,  Dearie: The Remarkable Life of Julia Child he’ll likely continue in the genre. BTW, “Dearie” refers to the word Julia used for almost everyone – from waiters to bellhops or close friends. She called almost everyone “dearie.”

Bob Spitz was a huge fan of Julia Child, which led him to write this book. In the acknowledgements he says:  The genesis of this book sprang from my amazing luck, traveling with Julia Child in Sicily in 1992. For several weeks we crisscrossed the island, eating, of course, but talking every chance we got. She was already a beloved icon, larger than life in so many different ways, but perhaps the most down-to-earth celebrity I’d ever encountered. Inasmuch as I was writing about her for several magazines, we were on the record throughout the trip, but she never held back from speaking her mind, never shied from a tough opinion, never pulled her punches, never blinked She was exactly like her TV persona: warm, funny, outgoing, whip-smart, incorrigible, and most of all, real. If I have to admit to one prejudice confronting this book, it is that I had a powerful crush on her. Sorry. Deal with it.

From the first page I found myself picking it up at odd times because I found the story compelling. Bob Spitz writes interesting narratives. He gives you the facts, straight, and yet you can feel the drama behind so many events in Julia’s life. I found the history of Julia McWilliams, from nearby Pasadena, a daughter of a privileged family, quite fascinating. Her father rarely ever gave her an encouraging word – and maybe because from the get-go Julia was a kind of a maverick. She didn’t follow in her father’s ultra-conservative political path, and was forever ridiculed for it. She wasn’t driven to get good grades particularly, never felt herself a scholar, went to Smith College where she spent more time drinking and carousing than she did studying. Yet she graduated. At loose ends after that, she had no direction in her life, and her father, the ever present critic, didn’t encourage her much. Money wasn’t an issue. She did live in New York for awhile, took a menial job (about all she could find), but wasn’t particularly happy. She was a socialite, but not a fluttering butterfly. She wanted some meaning to her life, but just couldn’t quite figure out what or where it was. Her mother died and Julia ended up moving home to Pasadena as a companion to her father and she resumed her socialite role in her home town. He was not ailing, but she and her 2 siblings felt Dad needed some watching over.

When war loomed, she joined the OSS, eventually going to Ceylon (now Sri Lanka). And later to China. She met Paul Child, a very scholarly type, who was also with the OSS. They were friends for a year or more, and then their relationship bloomed. Julia never felt she was Paul’s mental equal. Although he didn’t attend college, he was extremely well read and could debate philosophy, politics, poetry and social culture with the best of them. They married eventually (much to her Dad’s dismay because Paul Child was a social liberal, as was Julia, but Paul more so). These facts rankled Julia’s father until the end of his days. Family dinners were always fraught with argument about politics, so much so that Julia did her best to avoid visiting home at almost all cost. Julia and Paul were devoted to each other for life.

The picture below is Julia’s reconstructed Cambridge kitchen at the Smithsonian (I believe). Note the distinctive pegboard, something she and Paul worked out so they’d always know where everything was kept in every Julia kitchen. Having already read Julia’s grand-nephew’s biography of Julia’s years in France, My Life in France, I enjoyed reading this new book, Julia’s full-life history. I’ve come away with so much more respect for Julia. Her years of cooking in Paris, making recipes over and over and over until she felt they were perfect, has to be a testament to her tenacity. And her tendency to be a perfectionist. Actually, last night I went online and ordered the DVD set of The French Chef: Julia Child 10-Disc CollectionTV series Julia did. (It contains an interview with Julia, and supposedly all the recipes that accompanied all the shows.) Having read this new book, and knowing the kind of labor of love she put into the making of the shows – and more importantly – how she revised the long and tedious French recipes from her first book of the 2-book series Mastering the Art of French Cooking (2 Volume Set) I wonder if I’ll be more intrigued to try more of her recipes.  I only own one of her cookbooks, and have cooked very few recipes from it.

Julia was a a fount of energy. Again and again through the book I read of her incredibly long hours in the kitchen from when she began cooking in Paris to her last days, almost. What I found new and interesting were:

• the life-long feud between Julia and Madeleine Kamman – you can read more about it here; she also didn’t get along all that well with Jacque Pepin either! Even though they co-hosted a series of cooking demonstrations for TV, behind the façade of smiles, they didn’t like each other much;
• Julia loved-loved men; even in her declining years she had a boyfriend, of sorts, even while her beloved husband Paul resided in a special home where he could be well cared for; whether any hanky-panky went on, I don’t know; this book doesn’t indicate so; Julia adored Paul unflinchingly, yet she craved male companionship once Paul wasn’t around;
• although most everyone who ever watched Julia knows she had an irreverent side – she could laugh at herself and others, but was a natural in front of the TV camera; she also could use that biting tongue now and then. She had a stubborn streak. So, I didn’t know that Julia walked off the stage of a little cooking segment she did with Regis and Kathy Lee because Kathy Lee refused to get in and help – and get her hands dirty. It was arranged and agreed upon, but once the camera started rolling, Kathy Lee refused. At the break, Julia and her team walked out;
• learning about her very assertive, abrasive lawyer she hired some way down her career path – she adored him – but oh, he made people mad. Yet he protected Julia’s interests, which was his purpose – I’d never heard about him before;
• how hard Julia worked (with Paul, and with her editors, and her attorney) to keep her momentum once she reached the pinnacle; Julia was ahead of her time, I think, in knowing and understanding that she had to stay front and center or people (us home cooks) would forget her.

The photo at right – I think – was in Julia’s Provence kitchen, where she spent months working on the recipes for the Mastering manuscript. Note her “signature” neck scarf.

The author is a good story-teller, for sure. There were some times that he used colloquialisms that bordered on hip, trite or trendy. They seemed a bit strange in a biography. Since he’s been a magazine journalist, perhaps that’s why. Yet I found the book a page-turner when, in fact, there was nothing about Julia’s life that gave it that kind of intrigue. I found it interesting that many culinary professionals (back in the 60s and 70s) ridiculed Julia for calling herself a chef – she never cooked in a restaurant so she had no right to the title. She never called herself that – the TV show folks devised the title of the show. And yet, I think she was every bit a chef as any restaurant one just because of the dedication to her craft. Her recipes have stood the test of time, obviously!

So overall, I found the book very readable. Am sorry I never took the opportunity to meet Julia Child when I could have at her many book signings or classes. During her 80th birthday celebrations she attended a cooking class in her honor at a restaurant near us, but the tariff was $500 for the privilege. I just couldn’t – wouldn’t – pay that much, as much as I wanted to meet her! But I lived her life vicariously through this very fascinating biography. If you’re anything of a Julia fan, you’ll be glad to have read it.

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Another one of those “brown” photos. It’s so very hard to give brown colored food any eye appeal. All I can tell you is that this dish was absolutely sensational. The flavors – oh my goodness yes. I’ll be making this again and again. It would even be good enough for guests. What you see there is browned pork chunks (at top), sweet potatoes (bottom and far right), an organic purple carrot (right side, vertical) and fennel (left). And drizzled over the top is the lightly creamed Calvados and broth which was then topped with chopped chives. Thank goodness for chives!

Out of the freezer came our last package of Berkshire pork. It was pork chunks, and by the time I got into the kitchen to start dinner, it was after 4pm, so I needed to figure out something fast. What I didn’t know was what kind of pork it was – it was labeled pork stew meat, that’s all. It could have been trimmings from pork chops, pork shoulder, tenderloin bits, or pork loin. All needing different cooking times. But oh well, I just had to guess. With time of an essence, I knew I needed to do this in the pressure cooker, so the recipe below is done that way, but you can do this all without one – just cook the meat mixture on the stove until barely cooked through, and cook the vegetables until they’re tender. You can add the Calvados cream ingredients with everything in the pot.

You know about Calvados, right? It’s an apple brandy from the northern part of France. It’s still a brandy. I’ve had my bottle for about 15 years, and with this dish I emptied it. We never drink it – I use it exclusively for cooking. Time for a new one now. Here’s what Wikipedia has to say about it:

Calvados is distilled from cider made from specially grown and selected apples, of which there are over 200 named varieties. It is not uncommon for a Calvados producer to use over 100 specific varieties of apples, which are either sweet (such as the Rouge Duret variety), tart (such as the Rambault variety), or bitter (such as the Mettais, Saint Martin, Frequin, and Binet Rouge varieties), the latter being inedible. The fruit is harvested (either by hand or mechanically) and pressed into a juice that is fermented into a dry cider. It is then distilled into eau de vie. After two years aging in oak casks, it can be sold as Calvados. The longer it is aged, the smoother the drink becomes. Usually the maturation goes on for several years.

Here’s what I did: I sprinkled the pork chunks with Herbes de Provence, then browned them until they were caramelized brown on several sides, not crowding the pieces. That took 2 batches. I removed the meat and poured out the fat that had accumulated in the pan. Meat went back in, then I added a 6-ounce (can) of pineapple juice, 1 1/2 cups of water, bay leaves, fresh thyme sprigs, salt and pepper, and Penzey’s soup base (I used pork, but chicken would be fine). I pressure cooked that for about 13 minutes. Cooled it under a cold running tap, and the pork was just perfectly cooked. I removed the meat (because I didn’t want to cook the meat any further – it was perfectly cooked), then I added all the vegetables and apples and those were pressure cooked for 4 minutes. The vegetables were perfectly cooked so I removed them also. With the liquid left in the pan I added the shallot and Dijon mustard and let that simmer for a few minutes until the shallot was cooked. Then I added the cream and heated it through, then in went the Calvados. I cooked that for 2-3 minutes just so it would boil-off the alcohol. Then I added the meat back in and let that simmer for 2-3 minutes so the meat would be piping hot. The veggies stayed hot, so those were divided amongst the wide soup bowls, then I spooned the meat equally between the bowls (there won’t be lots of meat per person – 2 pounds of pork doesn’t end up being all that much, surprisingly) and poured the Calvados cream over them equally as well. Chopped chives went on top and it was ready to serve.

What’s GOOD: Oh, just everything. The meat, the juices, the veggies, the apples and of course, the creamy Calvados sauce I drizzled over the top. You’ll be licking the bowl.
What’s NOT: nothing whatsoever. Unless you don’t like stew. Or meat, or you’re averse to a little bit of cream.

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If you’re a chocoholic like I am, then you’ll understand when I say that the other day I just had to – yes, just HAD TO make brownies. I needed that mouth-feel of chocolate with the light texture of cake. Maybe you can tell by looking at the photo that they were super-moist.

Rather than make any of the other brownies (that I’ve already made) in my repertoire, I turned to my to-try file, and this recipe from Smitten Kitchen many years ago was what spoke to me. A brownie that’s not only rich in chocolate, but also with spices added. I can’t say that I’d ever had brownies with cinnamon, cardamom and some heat (either ground chipotle or smoky paprika) in it.

You’ve heard, naturally, about the affinity of chocolate and coffee, right? That whenever you’re baking with chocolate, if you add a little bit of coffee somehow (in this case it was instant espresso powder), it enhances the chocolate flavor. Experts have done taste-tests and our palates like the marriage of chocolate and coffee (like mocha!).

The original brownie recipe came from a cookbook called Baked: New Frontiers in Baking. I’d not heard of the cookbook, either. But the story is long . . . Deb knew someone who worked at Baked, the bakery (from hence the cookbook came) and she had a scribbled list of ingredients for Chipotle Brownies. Deb lost the recipe. Meanwhile the cookbook came out and there was a  brownie recipe in there but it didn’t have the spices and heat. Then she found the older recipe, so she kind of combined it all. Whew! Does all that make sense?

The batter was easy enough to put together – the usual kind of brownie baking stuff – but with the addition of instant espresso powder and the spices. Deb used chipotle chile in her cookies, but she also suggested using smoky paprika instead. I had some of the dry-type chipotle chile powder (not the wet type in adobo sauce), but it was marked “hot.” I was a bit concerned it would be too much heat, so I used the smoked paprika and added in a little tiny bit of the hot chipotle powder. These are to be baked in a glass 9×13 pan, or a very light colored metal pan – I used the glass.

The recipe indicated baking for 30 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out with only a few crumbs attached. Well, at 25 minutes I used my tester and it came out clean, so I was concerned I’d over-baked them. I couldn’t really tell by looking at them – they “looked” done from the top, but I wouldn’t know until I cut into them, which took a couple of hours for them to cool completely. I think they were a tad on the under-done side – the ones I cut from the outside edges were perfect, but the interior bars were really moist. If you like solid brownies with almost a fudgy texture to them, this is your recipe! I think I should have baked them an additional 5 minutes. Since I baked these I found a notation on the ‘net indicating brownies are to be baked to 214°. Most baked goods are done at about 205°, so this is different. Must have to do with the density of the batter.

The spices? Well, when I ate my first bite, I could tell there was something else IN there, but I could not discern the cinnamon, or the cardamom. But once I swallowed that bite, oh-la-la! Heat. Yes, a very light heat on the way down and afterwards. I could not tell it was smoked paprika – in fact I don’t know that I could discern the smoked aspect of it at all. I suppose the chocolate – which this recipe contains in spades – masks those spicy flavors somewhat.

What’s GOOD: if you want extra-chocolaty brownies, these fill the bill. Lots of chocolate flavor; good texture, a perfect balance of sweet to chocolate and spice. Would I make them again? Yes. They were different, that’s for sure. The spices add a big boost of flavor and I liked the little residual heat at the back of the throat as you swallowed them and the heat lingered for several minutes. They certainly satisfied my I-need-brownies-now. The recipe makes a lot – I gave away some and stuck a couple of foil-wrapped packages in the freezer for some day, down the road, when I’m hankering for some chocolate. Everyone who tried this (including my DH who almost never eats sweets) raved about them.
What’s NOT: really nothing. I liked them.  If you like experimenting with heat, do try them!

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You probably can’t quite tell what’s in this – there is regular cooked salmon and smoked salmon (that’s the darker orange colored pieces), butter, chives, lemon juice and a bunch of other normal pantry stuff. You mix it up and pack it into a terrine and bring it out an hour or so before serving (so the butter softens a little). If salmon is a favorite of yours, you’ll like this.

Every spring we are invited to friends for Kentucky Derby day. Some of the ladies show up in flowy, flowery dresses and big floppy hats. Others are in Hawaiian attire, and yet others in regular casual clothes. I have worn a big floppy hat a time or two, but I’m not much of a hat person – I have fine, soft hair and I get a big whopping “hat hair” look that I truly don’t like. Nothing rescues my hair from that except another shampoo and blow dry! I either wear the hat the whole time, or I don’t take one at all. Usually, we dress casually, and hats don’t much go with that kind of outfit. Everyone is asked to bring an appetizer to share. They usually provide a big tray of wings and lots of mint juleps, which I l-o-v-e. My limit, though, is 2, especially if I’m driving and several hours have elapsed before I get behind the wheel. This year I had 1 1/2 and the 2nd one I asked the bartender to make it light on the bourbon, because I was driving 4 of us home. I think they use Maker’s Mark bourbon. Good stuff. They make up a mixture of the simple syrup with the mint muddled in already, so all the bartender has to do is pour in bourbon, add mint sprigs and a bit of 7-Up. They’re scrumptiously delicious.

Anyway, for my appetizer contribution I wanted something I could make ahead. Everyone wants finger food, so after attending several years, I’ve learned what things this group does/doesn’t like. We ended up coming home with a lot more of this than I’d planned. I thought it was really tasty, but I should have made half a recipe, I suppose. We still have some left over and will need to throw it out in a day or so.

In the photo at left there’s the raw (regular) salmon all cut up into small cubes. It was simmered on the range with vermouth and water (and lemon peel), cooled, then I carefully combined it with all the other ingredients. Here below right you can see the other stuff that was added to it like lemon zest, green onions, chives. Then I added the butter and the smoked salmon. You need to use a light hand with mixing as you’ll destroy the texture of it – you want to be able to see the two types of salmon. I sprinkled a bit more chives on top, although that wasn’t in the recipe.

It came from Dorie Greenspan’s book, Around My French Table: More Than 300 Recipes from My Home to Yours. Dorie is an American, but she and her husband must be Francophiles at heart, as they own an apartment in Paris. She goes back and forth all the time (if you read her blog, you’ll know about her comings and goings). The recipe actually came from David Lebovitz, another American who now lives in Paris all the time. Both are accomplished culinary experts and authors.

You’ve probably heard the term “potted” – this is in relation to food, not liquor or consumption of it! The most common is potted shrimp, and I think I had that the first time I visited England about 40 years ago. As I recall, I was brought a plate with a small, very small ramekin on it and a few water crackers. The ramekin surface looked like congealed butter. Well, it was, but underneath was a shrimp mixture, and you just spread some of it onto the cracker. It was a first course at a restaurant.  The Brits like potted things. So do the French (like duck liver), although in that case it’s called pâté, and it’s almost exclusively meat, usually more in a paste form. Americans have taken to meat pates, and our local grocery stores usually have some kind of offering, often imported from France. There are liver pates, and nut pates too, and my favorite, a rustic pate which usually contains some other cuts of meat, not just liver.

But back to potted food. We here in the U.S. don’t know much about “potted” anything. So anyway, this is potted salmon, through and through. This version contains butter (the most common binder used in potted food), but mayo is found in some.

What’s GOOD: the texture and color for sure. I probably should have put out a little sign telling people what it was. I don’t think this group is very adventurous when it comes to food. I should remember that for next year! I liked the taste of regular salmon and smoked salmon together – it makes a great combo. It also can be made a day ahead.
What’s NOT: really nothing. If you like salmon in its many guises, you’ll like this.

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Just trust me on this one – pumpkin seeds (aka: pepitas) mixed up with a bunch of other relatively ordinary ingredients (like shallots, citrus juices, zest, cilantro, parsley and olive oil) make a really different, but delicious dip.

I think I mentioned that a group of us had a Cinco de Mayo brunch recently, and this was one of the dips. Oh gosh, was it good. Cherrie sent me home with a little packet of this, which we enjoyed for several days running. When I first tasted it, I actually thought there was meat in it. No. It must be the pumpkin seeds that give it that kind of texture.

The recipe came from a very recent Food and Wine issue. Here’s what it said about it: This super-easy, thick pumpkin seed spread from the Yucatan, called sikil pak, might just be the new guacamole—it seems to be on Mexican menus all over the US. This orange zest-scented version comes from Bandalero in Washington, DC, owned by Top Chef finalist Mike Isabella.

The raw pepitas are toasted in a skillet first. Then you cook down the shallots, jalapeno and garlic for a short time. It’s all mixed up in a food processor with the parsley, cilantro, lime juice, orange zest, a tiny bit of oil and water to give it some fluidity, but not much. To say it’s easy is almost an understatement. It’s REALLY easy. The jalapeno gives it just a little bit of heat and bite, but really not much. It makes about 2 cups of dip – ample for a big gathering. It’s rich tasting – you’ll only want to eat maybe 5-6 of these with a tortilla chip. It also will keep for several days – maybe even a week. So it’s definitely a make-ahead kind of appetizer.

What’s GOOD: the flavors – the pumpkin seeds give it a meaty texture, almost, and everything else just provides little jolts of other flavors too. Very worth making.
What’s NOT: nothing whatsoever!

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I’ve re-named this dish slightly from the original recipe over at Food52. I didn’t have orzo pasta for one thing, and I thought describing it as a Ragu might give you a better idea of what it is. And you just need to know that this is fabulous. Absolutely drop-dead fantastic. If you enjoy lamb (ground), and pasta, with Feta, lemon and Kalamata olives, well this is right up your alley.

You’ve heard it here before, that when I see other bloggers use superlatives when they describe a dish, I pay attention. Not only did the originator, Emily at fiveandspice wax glorious about it, but Amanda & Merrill at Food52 did too. That was enough for me to decide to make it. What clinched it was seeing a package of ground lamb at the market and that was that. The original called for fresh spinach. Well, I had arugula instead, but I doubt that would have made much of a taste difference. And, as I mentioned above, I used different pasta (farfalline instead of orzo). The original title is “Greek” Lamb with Orzo. The Greek part is all the Greek-style additions: Feta, olives, lemon juice, oregano, but otherwise it’s an Italian style ragu. The back story of the recipe is just the kind of history I love. The recipe came from Emily’s mother, from a magazine, and it was a family favorite. Here’s what she said: It was also the recipe she sent to each of us [kids], successively, when we needed something easy but impressive to cook for friends in college. It’s still one of my favorite meals, and a wonderful way to easily serve a crowd. Of course, as I’ve evolved, my lamb with orzo has evolved as well, gathering additional ingredients and spices like a glacier gathering stones. . . . I loved that last phrase Emily wrote – gathering ingredients and spices like a glacier gathering stones. I think Emily needs to be a writer . . .

The sauce is relatively easy to make – lamb browned, most of the fat drained, onions and garlic added, then tomatoes, seasonings (including some cinnamon and ground coriander, which are different). The pasta is made and tossed with some oil and lemon juice. When you spoon the ragu on top of the pasta you garnish with Feta cheese crumbles and Kalamata olives. Done. Serve.

What’s GOOD: I refused to put down my spoon until every single morsel was slicked off the plate. Does that tell you how good it was? The other great thing? One pound of lamb makes enough sauce to serve 8, supposedly. Hungry eaters? Well, maybe 6 then, but it’s very filling and comforting food. A definite make-again dish. My DH thought it was fabulous too. It’s going onto my Carolyn’s Favs list, in case that is any additional motivation for you to make this!
What’s NOT: nothing, other than you will dirty up a fair number of dishes, pots and pans in the making of it. Worth it, but then I don’t wash the dishes, my darling DH does. He did complain a bit.

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Horchata is a refreshing rice-based drink from Latin America. It’s very easy to make, and if you’re so inclined, you can add some Kahlua to it as we did. Not traditional, but oh-so good.

Recently our four-couple gourmet group got together for a brunch. What fun we had, even though it wasn’t a nice day – one of those cloudy, overcast days that we, here in Southern California, don’t understand much, except in June, when we usually  have that kind of weather for the entire month, hence we call it “June Gloom.” But it was on Cinco de Mayo (the 5th). Early May!

One of the gals brought my Tuscan Sangria with Tuaca. We had 4 different salsas with chips (2 of them you’ll see here in a few days), then our main food included a egg/chile/cheese baked dish, caramelized carnitas tacos served with hot flour tortillas, guacamole and slivers of radishes. We also had a no-bake vegetarian enchilada dish that was surprisingly good. I’ll post that too. This, our dessert, was a horchata milk shake. I’d seen the recipe in Food and Wine, and since I like horchata, this one, with ice cream, sounded more like a dessert than a beverage to serve with a meal. So that’s what I did. And most of us ended up adding some Kahlua to the drink – making it a boozy drink, but not much. Just enough to taste it.

Horchata (hor-chaatah) is an agua fresca (meaning fresh water). All agua frescas are non-alcoholic and are common refreshing drinks served all over Latin America. In many Mexican restaurants here in California anyway, they serve some type of agua frescas – either horchata or tamarindo (tamarind) or hibiscus (also a favorite of mine – have never made it, I just buy it when I see it). We visit a Saturday morning farmer’s market some miles from us, and one of the food trucks there almost always has the hibiscus agua fresca, or the tamarind one. They’re all sweet, including horchata.

Anyway, horchata is easy enough to do, but since I’d never made it before, it was all new to me, other than I knew it was rice based. First I measured out rice, added water and whole cinnamon sticks (horchata typically is a cinnamon flavored drink). That sat overnight (out on the kitchen counter, not refrigerated). You remove the cinnamon sticks (see ERRATA below), then pour the entire mixture into the blender. The rice was not cooked at all, but after it sat in liquid all night, it was softened somewhat. Nothing is heated up during the making of horchata. I turned on the blender and let it go a bit, then added in some toasted sliced almonds, sugar and cinnamon. And here’s the most difficult thing you’ll do – pour the mixture through a fine-mesh strainer. Do NOT try to push the mixture through – you want the sieve to catch whatever rice it can, although it is ground up, you understand! I poured in about a cup and just let it sit until it had drained through. I rinsed the sieve and did it again, and again. It will take a few minutes for that, but truly that’s the most time consuming thing you’ll do making horchata.

At that point in the making I poured it into a pitcher and refrigerated it (several hours before our get-together). When I was ready to serve it I put it back in the blender, added sweetened condensed milk, the banana, vanilla ice cream and ice. I tasted it and put in a tiny bit more of the sweetened condensed milk. Truth to tell, in our drive to the hosts’ home, my pitcher, with lid, slid and some of the horchata ended up on the carpet in my car’s trunk. Ooph! I wasn’t sure how much quantity I really had left, so needed to guesstimate how much to add in. Pour into glasses, add a straw and sprinkle the top with the cinnamon sugar mixture.

OPTIONAL: I served the horchata milk shakes in silver tumblers – they’re actually mint julep cups. Some people were drinking coffee with whipped cream on top and Kahlua was on the table. One person added a little jot of Kahlua to their horchata and he made very noisy mmmmmm’s, so someone else added Kahlua, and in short order nearly everyone had added Kahlua. Knowing that horchata is really a non-alcoholic drink, I wasn’t so sure it would be a good thing! Oh, was I wrong. It was fabulous. My only caveat: don’t add too much Kahlua or it does overpower the delicacy of the cinnamon, almond and banana flavors.

ERRATA: I have to confess, I forgot to take out the cinnamon sticks after the rice had soaked overnight. I glanced at the recipe and didn’t see the instructions. I just missed it. So our horchata was a bit grainy from the ground-up cinnamon – but you know what? Everyone seemed to love it that way. They said they liked it grainy and would definitely do it that way if they made it. Well, okay then!

What’s GOOD: every little sip of it was fantastic. I’d definitely make this again, with or without the Kahlua. I didn’t mind the grainy texture from the cinnamon sticks, but that’s up to you. Traditionally, remove the cinnamon sticks! You could lighten up the recipe some by using sugar-free ice cream, or light ice cream. There’s also low-fat sweetened condensed milk in grocery stores too. This one’s a keeper.
What’s NOT: nothing. Absolutely nothing wrong with this at all!

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Lovely steamed asparagus tossed with walnut (or hazelnut) oil and lemon juice, topped with a crispy mixture of bacon and onions. Very tasty.

‘Tis the season for asparagus and I love the stuff. I have my favorite ways of making it, the Crumbled Asparagus, and Roasted Asparagus with Chile Butter. But I wanted to try some new version of the green stuff. Out on my kitchen counter was Dorie Greenspan’s book, Around My French Table: More Than 300 Recipes from My Home to Yours. There was a recipe, and I had all the ingredients on hand. Even better!

Actually, I pan-steamed the asparagus (large-ish skillet, a little olive oil, a little water, lid) until it was just barely done. Meanwhile I cooked up the bacon. I’ve changed the recipe just slightly, below, because 3 slices of extra-thick bacon was just too much, I thought. But when I served it, it was there, and 3 of us ate that entire platter of asparagus. And all the bacon. Ah-hem.

The asparagus is drained and then drizzled with the mixture of walnut oil (or hazelnut) and lemon juice. I did it with my hands because I needed to gently work the little bit of fluid all over the asparagus. A tall order. I think I probably used a bit more oil and lemon juice, then the warm bacon-onion mixture was lapped on top. Done.

What’s GOOD: Good texture, good flavor from the walnut oil and lemon juice. And the bacon. Well, what’s there not to like! It was relatively easy – 2 pans and a bowl.
What’s NOT: really nothing. I won’t call it a “wow” dish, but it was really good.

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Wow. Was this easy baked salmon ever off the charts delicious! I almost can’t wait to make it again, it was that good. The salmon is flavored with red onions, garlic and green onions, then soaked in olive oil, agave nectar and lime juice. And an itty-bitty pinch of cinnamon.

This salmon dish could hardly be easier. Well, maybe a little, but we’re not talking much effort to make this, that’s all I’m saying. The recipe came from a fellow blogger, Karina Allrich, also known as the Gluten-Free Goddess. Karina eats GF (gluten free), but she has plenty of “regular” recipes as well (meaning they’re not alternative-flour-centric) on her very popular blog. This one was from some years ago. I used the essence of it and adapted it slightly to suit our family. Agave nectar, although it’s a low glycemic carb and slow absorbing into the body of a normal person, is still SUGAR to a any person, let alone for a diabetic, like drinking sugar syrup.

At left is a photo of the fish before I sealed it up in foil – onions, garlic, green onions and you can see the olive oil/agave mixture around the bottom.

There were 4 of us for dinner that night, and since this dish is made in individual foil packets (hooray for easy cleanup!), I was able to adapt my DH’s serving with less agave. The other 3 portions were as the recipe shows below. Here’s what I did differently from Karina’s recipe: (1) I sprayed the foil to make sure the salmon wouldn’t stick; (2) I reduced the amount of agave and olive oil, just because I thought 1/3 cup of each was more than needed for 4 servings – in any case, you don’t eat all of it anyway; and (3) I used ample of the dark green part of the green onions – flavor, I suppose, but also for color. The only thing I’ll do differently next time – and I’ve put this in the recipe below – is place the slices of garlic underneath the salmon. We found the garlic was still nearly raw when placed on top of the salmon. Perhaps if the garlic was placed in direct contact with the salmon flesh it would cook, but I’d put the onions on first, then the garlic and they were definitely raw. Anyway, I salted and peppered the salmon first, added the pinch of cinnamon, then thin slices of red onion are placed on the salmon fillets, a bunch of the green onions, then I mixed up the olive oil/agave mixture and used a spoon to drizzle it all over the top of the salmon. It puddled below in the packet, but all of the salmon was dampened with the mixture. Then, just before sealing it up I squeezed a half of a lime over the top – I drizzled it directly on the salmon. The packets were sealed up, then I placed them on a big rimmed baking sheet (4 just barely fit).

The 350° was just right – the salmon cooked in exactly 20 minutes. The fillets we had were about 1” at the thickest part, so 20 minutes was perfect. If you have thinner fillets, you’ll want to reduce the baking time by a few minutes.

What’s GOOD: every single, solitary morsel of this dish was fantastic. The fact that it’s relatively easy to make just made it even more fun to prepare. Worthy of a company meal for sure. The taste is on the sweet side – just know that going in.
What’s NOT: nothing. Absolutely nothing!

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A very easy rendition of a French classic baked chicken. Every French home cook knows how to make one or more versions of this super-tender and juicy chicken dish, most often served on Sundays when the family typically gathers ‘round the table.

Have you ever been in Paris, or anywhere else in France for that matter, on a Sunday? They roll up the sidewalks in most places. It’s nearly impossible to find a restaurant open (except in hotels). Stores are closed. Businesses are closed, and most definitely cafes and restaurants are buttoned up tight. At home the matriarch is leisurely making a big lunch for the family, and often it’s this dish, or something similar.

We’d purchased a whole chicken from a meat purveyor at one of our local farmers’ markets. It was grown in the old-fashioned natural way without hormones and not treated with antibiotics. She was a small bird – about 3 1/2 pounds. Since I’d recently purchased a lidded ceramic dish that is mostly made for this kind of meal, I wanted to do this birdie in the new pot. First I went to some of my French cookbooks and didn’t find much to help me. Then I pulled out Dorie Greenspan’s Around My French Table: More Than 300 Recipes from My Home to Yours. Sure enough, she had several recipes and she told the same story I did above – about the Sunday chicken supper. She offers about 3-4 recipes for chicken done whole in either a ceramic pot (like I was using) or in a cast iron covered pan. One was made with Armagnac. Another was for lazy people, she said. It used a nice piece of bread set on the bottom underneath the bird, and that bread is her reward that she eats when the chicken is just done. That one used a whole head of garlic and was roasted dry. Yet another is called “hurry-up-and-wait roast chicken” – it’s roasted half the time on one side, turned over and roasted some more, and once removed from the oven you must impale the bird on something to allow the juices to gravitate to the breast. That sounded like too much trouble that evening since I was late starting dinner. But I do know, now, where to go for inspiration for more whole bird recipes to do in my pottery pot.

Here below is the chicken before baking. This recipe is loosely based on a recipe by the same name in Dorie’s group. It called for preserved lemon. I don’t have any of that, so I just improvised with several things in this recipe. I was ever-so pleased with the results. I had an orange-fleshed sweet potato, a Russet potato, some organic carrots, shallots, mushrooms, garlic and the fresh herbs (rosemary, thyme and parsley) in our kitchen garden. There above you can see the chickie in the pot – turned sideways. I’d browned her on several sides in a nonstick skillet first so she wouldn’t be pale. I nestled all the veggies and aromatics around the bird, added chicken broth and vermouth and on went the lid and it baked in a 450° oven for 55 minutes. I’m glad to know that the ceramic pot can withstand that kind of heat. In my naïveté, I’d have never thought to roast the chicken that hot – I’d probably have used my usual 350° oven. But  it was superb.

At right you can see the finished chicken. Not much difference in appearance, huh? The juices in the bottom were SO flavorful, so that’s why I served a piece of bread with it. Ideally it should have been toasted, but it was already 7:30 when I got dinner on the table, so I waived the need to toast. We dipped pieces of the bread in the juice in our individual bowls. I served the left overs in the same way. I’d removed all the chicken meat from the carcass and just piled a mixture of everything into the same bowls. It was just as good the 2nd time around.

What’s GOOD: every single, solitary thing about this was wonderful, including the soft morsels of garlic. There’s nothing quite like a eating a naturally-grown chicken with lots of simple ingredients.
What’s NOT: can’t think of a thing!

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