Curried Sweet Potato Soup

Seasonality is often a blessing in disguise. Just as much as anyone else, I've been chomping at the bit for summer produce to arrive, if not the whole shebang then at least some of the early spring greens. But we seem to be in limbo this weekend in late March: no peas in the pod yet, no sugar snaps or asparagus. No tender dandelion leaves to forage yet in no lush parks. When I arrived at the Grand Army Plaza Greenmarket this Saturday, it was just late afternoon. There was literally half of one beet left in one farmer's cardboard box. There were a lot of apples, though, and in general, a lot of stuff that I'd been eating a lot of for what felt to be a lot of time.

Breakfast Lasagna

What do breakfast, lasagna, free pool tables and cheap pints of beer have to do with one another? Nothing. Except that they're sloshing around inside of me as I write this (the free pool more figuratively, say an X-ray glimpse into my stomach with sound effects) a few short hours and not enough sleep after indulging in all. I trust that you could skip the last two items in that equation and have yourself a mighty fine meal out of breakfast lasagna, however. And unlike my last recipe, this one should give you plenty of time to plan ahead for a savory weekend brunch. Or is it dinner?

Rosemary Crusted Rack of Lamb with Wild Rice Ragout, Asparagus and Red Wine Reduction

Happy day after Easter, everyone. This recipe may be a day late, but as you'll see later on in the Cost Calculator, not lacking in dollar value. Admittedly, the most important Christian holiday has little significance for me other than being a time to see my family, and together obsess over having something really nice to eat. (Is that so sacrilegious?) The fruit of this year's obsessions was a nice rack of lamb, French trimmed by the butcher, and simply roasted.

Reason for Not Eating Out #19: Because you can almost afford to live alone

In the words of Roy Orbison, only the lonely know the way I feel tonight. I'm putting my feet up on a coffee table, pulling a blanket up to my chin, trying to decide which channel to turn on, or which of the eight magazines in front of me to pick up and look through, then relinquishing in contented inactivity, the only sounds in the entire apartment from stock simmering on the stove, ever so lightly, underneath the pot's lid. The aroma creeps into my nose. It’s probably not the way poor Roy felt when he sang it, but I feel great tonight. Dum dum dum dumdy-doo-wah.

Honey Scallion Sliders (and How Now to Cook Brown Cow)

After diving into pig fat and liver for that pâté, I wasn’t sure I was quite ready to grind up any more meat for a while. Lately I've been eating (and necessarily cooking) meat only once a week or so, like a pious, puritanical soul, though I couldn’t care less what day it falls on that I do. With all the disconcerting news about mistreatment of cattle in slaughterhouses and meat contamination scares eating away the very fiber of our agricultural system, eating beef wasn't exactly high on my priorities at this time. I feel that as a nation we overproduce it, overeat it, and generally abuse it. So why did I make a coupla burgers?

Country Pâté with Pecans and Cranberries

This weekend I was invited to a dinner party at the home of two friends (and award-winning chefs). The clever theme for the event was elevated fifties' American cuisine: "We're swapping out the cans of condensed soups, processed cheese, canned black olives and Wonder Bread, and are replacing them with homemade, organic, high-quality ingredients," the invitation read. As I typed out my RSVP, I apologized for my late response because their email had initially fallen into the clutches of my spam folder. I stopped. Did I just write, "spam"? As in the fabulously fifties-esque potted meat product loosely related to spiced ham? Something in desperate need of reinvention? And here we go...

Crispy Mini Quiches

Naysayers and pastry purists, look out: this post may sound a little weird. Crispy, you say? (they say, that is). A thin, crunchy crust on a creamy quiche? What is this, a pizza? The agent provocateur in this quiche was the use of pre-packaged square wonton wrappers instead of small, conventional pastry crusts (a marriage of convenience, of course). Genetically speaking, these share the same DNA as fresh Italian pasta -- flour and egg. And the thickness of a pre-packaged egg wonton wrapper is about as thin as a pasta crank will get you.

Za’atar Bread with Feta and Parsley

Last night I hosted a housewarming party at my new apartment. Each guest appeared at my door toting a bottle or two of wine, a six-pack of beer or the occasional small housewarming gift. Then, a new-ish friend of mine arrived and dug into her bag a moment. She whipped out a small Ziploc bag with a mound of moss-green, fuzzy-looking dried plantlife at the bottom. “Um…” “It’s Za’atar!” she exclaimed. My suspicions cleared, I excitedly opened the – ahem – little green bag and sniffed deeply. And here I am, less than twenty-four hours later (or twenty-three, if you factor in the daylight savings change) inhaling every bite of this freshly baked Za’atar bread. I’m high as a kite.

Hillary Rodhamgranate Rickey

I had a lot of leads to mull over for my next recipe, dedicated to Hillary Clinton. As Angeline commented in my Obama Rolls post, Clinton’s favorite food is lamb. Slate recently delved deep into theory on Clinton's food preferences, citing her dearness towards a Midwestern regional specialty called the Oliveburger, and her overuse of butter on popcorn. Then this week’s Intelligencer column in New York Magazine reported that Hillary eats hot peppers like jalapenos, habaneros and banana peppers “at pretty much every meal,” according to her spokesman. I find this fascinating, if true. (I also think it’d be awesome if Hillary started a food blog called, “Eating Hot Peppers in New York.”) But it was not a buttery, gamey, spicy or olive-laden recipe that I eventually decided to go with. Because, while she’s assuredly in the race for the presidential bid for the long haul, I think Hillary needs to loosen up. Go easy on the stoic-as-Mount-Rushmore eyebrow furrowing and tough talking like she’s about to take Obama “outside” for a brawl. I’m no doctor, clearly, but I think that Hillary could use a drink.

The Risotto Challenge

Behold: the work of two stir-crazy minds joined in the common goal of furthering research in the home-cooked field of arboriology--

Obama Rolls

The rest of the city may have largely moved on, but I still can't decide between Hillary and Obama. It's like deja-vu, back to being a kid in the candy store. I'm standing there scratching my head and weighing a Mars Bar and a Milky Way in each hand, while the rest of the kids have scampered outside, chomping away on their selections. The problem is, there is little difference between a Mars Bar and a Milky Way, just the packaging and marketing angles their manufacturers have decided to give them. These things evolve over the years, figure a year or two before another big ad campaign; but the marketing and packaging of our presidential candidates, on the other hand, changes literally every day. That's why I can't decide (after all, the policies of both candidates -- their nutritional value, you might say -- are nearly identical). But you know what? It doesn't really matter who little old me, myself and I decide on. Obama's on a roll.