Fresh Tart

I had high hopes for this quick little galette.  What's not to love about fresh cherries in a flaky, buttery crust?

It looked so perfect when I slid it into the oven, plump and sweet and full of promise.  But when the timer went off and I opened the door...no crusty, golden beauty.

Just a leaking, flaccid mess.

No!

But yes.  I had inadvertently torn the crust and all the lovely juices had run out and burned into a hard, glossy varnish.

Don't let that steer you away from the recipe, which is really quite lovely.  I made the best of the mess by cutting the tart into pieces and sliding them onto plates.  A scoop of pretty-in-pink homemade strawberry-rhubarb ice cream drew the eye upward, like a good blush.  If I weren't confessing, no one would be the wiser.

In the end, almost-lovely, and most important - delicious.

Fresh Cherry Galette
Serves 8

1 lb. sweet (Bing or other) cherries, pitted and halved
1/2 c. brown sugar
1 Tbsp. cornstarch
1 recipe patee brisee, chilled

Preheat oven to 375F.  Roll out the patee brisee, on a lightly floured board, into a 14-inch circle.  Transfer crust to a parchment- or silpat-lined baking sheet and chill for 20 minutes.

In a medium bowl, stir together cherries, sugar, and cornstarch.  Pour fruit onto the middle of the chilled crust and spread to within 3 inches of the edge.  Loosely pull the crust edges up and over the fruit, leaving an open space in the center (there will be odd folds and uneven edges - that's fine, it's supposed to be rustic looking).  Place the baking sheet in the oven.  Bake for 40 minutes, or until crust is very browned and the fruit is soft and bubbling.  Cool for at least 30 minutes.

Serve warm or at room temperature.

As you might have noticed, I'll eat eggs with pretty much anything.  Polenta, potatoes, bread, bread crumbs, salad, tomatoes, soup, on and on.  Take it from a former egg hater - eggs elevate all of these dishes from something ordinary to sublime.

For pennies.

For around 75 calories.

So lovely.

This dish is a sort-of take on spaghetti carbonara, the classic bacon-n-egg pasta.  Instead of tossing the pasta with raw eggs, cream, and lots of bacon, this version is instead tossed with a little bacon, garlic, herbs, and Parmesan cheese, then topped with a poached egg.  Yeah.  Gorgeous and delicious.  Salty, chewy, creamy. (Without cream.)

In other words, completely party worthy.  Or quick weeknight dinner worthy.  You decide.

Sort-Of Spaghetti Carbonara
Serves 2

2 slices bacon, chopped
1 cloves garlic, minced
1 Tbsp. chopped fresh basil
1 Tbsp. chopped fresh parsley
8 oz. dried spaghetti
1/4 c. grated Parmesan cheese
2 eggs
salt & freshly ground black pepper

Set a large pot of salted water on to boil.  Set a small saucepan of salted water on to boil. 

Heat a 12-inch skillet over medium heat.  Add bacon, saute until just crisp, then stir in garlic and fresh herbs.  Remove from heat and set aside.

When the large pot of water boils, add pasta and cook according to package directions until al dente.  Before draining, reserve 1/3 c. of the pasta cooking water.  Drain pasta and return to the pot.  Add the bacon, herbs, pan drippings, cheese, and pasta cooking water to the pasta.  Add a generous sprinkle of salt and freshly ground black pepper, and toss to coat.  Divide between two plates.

Turn heat down on the small saucepan of boiling water so that the water is barely simmering - small bubbles should barely break the surface.  Crack one egg into a small dish and slide into the water.  Quickly do the same with the second egg.  Set the timer for 3 minutes.  The eggs whites will look shredded, but that's OK.  When the timer goes off, use a slotted spoon to scoop one egg out of the water.  Tilt the spoon so the water drains completely off, then place the egg on top of one of the plates of pasta.  Repeat with the second egg and second plate of pasta.  Top eggs with a sprinkle of salt and a few grinds of black pepper each.  Serve immediately.

I posted the recipe below a few weeks ago at Dara & Co/Minnesota Monthly magazine. Salmon on the grill is hard to beat right now - the heat stays outside and so does the mess.  Pretty perfect in my book.  This miso glaze is easy and beyond delicious.

I can't decide what's most appealing about miso - the quick flavor it adds to dishes, the fact that it packs big flavor for very few calories, or the deep, rich flavor itself.  Stirred into nothing more than hot water, miso becomes a fragrant, restorative soup.  Whisked into salad dressing, it adds a layer of salty-sweetness, a delicious foil for crunchy greens.  Brushed onto fish before grilling, miso creates a flirty, sticky glaze, the kind that coaxes lovely bits of crispness outside a tender, buttery interior.  A particularly good match, miso and fish.

And an easy one.  While you heat the grill, stir together the glaze and coat the fish.  Choose thick, firm fish for the grill - salmon is a great choice, as is halibut or sea bass.  Serve alongside a salad or hot rice with a handful of peas tossed in for a simple dinner.  Pretty enough for guests, light enough for bathing suit season, and quick enough for a weeknight meal, this dish has it all.

Miso-Glazed Fish
Adapted from www.cookinglight.com
Glazes 4-6 oz. fillets of fish (salmon, halibut, sea bass…)

1/4 c. packed brown sugar
2 Tbsp. soy sauce
2 Tbsp. hot water
2 Tbsp. miso (find it near tofu in the dairy/refrigerated section of grocery stores, red or white work well)
Cooking spray
Chopped fresh chives for garnish

Heat grill.  Combine first four ingredients, stirring until smooth.  Spoon over fish.  Carefully spray hot grill grate with cooking spray.  Grill the fish a few minutes per side or until fish is just done (flakes easily; don’t overcook).  Sprinkle with chives.  (Fish can also be broiled.)

Since I'm about as northern as they come (I've spent my whole life in Minnesota, Wisconsin, and North Dakota), I never knew how much I like fresh okra.  But oh do I like it, it's become one of my very favorite vegetables, especially in this simple, pretty saute.  There's nothing slimy about this dish - the fresh okra emerges tender-crisp and sweet.  Combined with warm tomatoes and sweet onion, all set off perfectly with a little bacon, I could eat a whole panful and call it dinner.

But that would a shame, since grilled pork or shrimp love snuggling up to this dish.  As does - as you can see above - a bowl of soft, creamy polenta.  This was my lunch today, yep.  Couldn't beat it with a wooden spoon.

Saute of Tomatoes and Okra with Bacon
Adapted from The Gift of Southern Cooking by Edna Louis & Scott Peacock
Serves 6

Author’s note: this simple summer sauté is full of flavor, and color.  The okra should be just tender and bright green, the onion cooked but still a bit crunchy, and the tomatoes just warmed through, with a very fresh taste.  This is a nice way to use the different heirloom tomatoes from your own garden or varieties that you can find at a farmers’ markets, but any ripe, juicy garden tomato would be delicious.

5 slices bacon, diced
4 c. okra, washed, trimmed, and sliced 1/2-inch thick (about 1 lb.; I found fresh okra at the farmer's market this past weekend)
1 large onion, cut into 1/3-inch wedges
1/2 tsp. salt, or more to taste
freshly ground black pepper
4 medium heirloom or garden tomatoes, cut into 1/2-inch wedges (about 2 1/2 cups)

Cook the bacon in a large skillet until crisp.  Add the sliced okra to the skillet, and cook, stirring frequently, over moderate heat for 10 minutes.  Add the onion wedges, salt, and pepper, and continue cooking, still stirring, for 5 minutes.  Toss in the tomato wedges, and reduce the heat to low.  Cook, partially covered, just until tomatoes are heated through, 3-4 minutes.  Carefully taste for seasoning, and adjust if needed.  Serve warm.

I'll keep this simple.  I made this version of Salad Lyonnaise for dinner tonight, for John, for Father's Day, and it was sublime.  If you want to go to the recipe after the video, click on the "article" link.  If you take nothing else away from this demonstration, let it be how incredibly easy it is to poach eggs.  A breeze.  And oh my, so delicious, especially atop crispy bacon, pleasantly bitter greens, all cloaked in a warm, tart vinaigrette.  Thank you Mark Bittman.  Enjoy!

My friend Susie & I headed back to the Minneapolis Farmer's Market this morning.  This time we chose a Saturday so we could breakfast on a bratwurst (relish, mustard, thank you) while scoping out the bounty.  We snagged pea pods, green beans, okra, cherry tomatoes, asparagus, dried black lentils, kale, and pork sausage.  Suz was hoping to buy duck eggs as well, but we got there too late.  Early bird gets the...eggs!

We of course (re)loaded up on strawberries.  Can't get enough of the sweet, syrupy beauties, utterly spectacular right now.  I picked up some more rhubarb too, thinking I'd try my hand at strawberry-rhubarb ice cream (later this weekend).  And this strawberry-rhubarb buttermilk pudding cake, which I've had on my mind since I saw the recipe a couple of weeks ago on one of my favorite blogs, Sassy Radish.  What's not to love about strawberries + rhubarb + CAKE?  Good Lord.  Yeah.

It's a simple little cake, just enough to fill out an 8-inch square pan (or a 9-inch round pan, which is what I used).  I love small cakes - enough to share with guests without leaving dangerous leftovers lying around the house.  This tender cake would be gorgeous for breakfast or brunch as well as dessert.  It's as soft, juicy, and delicious as it looks.

Strawberry-Rhubarb Buttermilk Pudding Cake
From www.sassyradish.com
Serves 6

Stephanie's note: I baked my cake in a 9-inch round pan.  Since the pan was dark, I lowered the oven temperature to 375F, which worked nicely.  I also needed an extra 2 Tbsp. of sugar with the rhubarb to achieve a pleasant sweet/tart, so taste the cooked fruit and adjust as necessary.

1/4 c. water
1 1/2 tsp. cornstarch
1/2 c. plus 1/3 c. sugar (perhaps a bit more)
2 c. chopped rhubarb (about 3-4 stalks)
1 c. chopped strawberries
1 c. all-purpose flour
1 3/4 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1 large egg
1/2 c. buttermilk
1 stick butter, melted and cooled slightly
1 tsp. vanilla extract

Position a rack in the middle of the oven and preheat oven to 400F.  Butter an 8-inch square glass or ceramic baking dish, using the butter wrapper from your stick of butter if possible.

In a small saucepan, stir together water, cornstarch, and 1/2 c. sugar, then stir in rhubarb to coat evenly.  Bring to a simmer, stirring constantly.  Once simmering, stir occasionally and let cook for about 3 minutes.  Remove from heat and stir in strawberries.  Set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, salt, and remaining 1/3 c. sugar.

In a large bowl, whisk together egg, buttermilk, melted butter, and vanilla.  Whisk in the flour mixture until just combined - do not overmix.

Add 1/2 c. of the fruit mixture to the baking dish, spreading it evenly over the bottom of the dish.  Pour batter over fruit, spreading it evenly.  Spoon the rest of the fruit evenly over the batter.

Bake for 25-30 minutes, until a wooden toothpick or a cake tester inserted into the center of the cake (not fruit) comes out clean.  Cool on a rack.

Serve the cake warm or at room temperature.

If the father in your life loves a good barbecue, then by all means grill away.  I'm right there with him.  But if you're looking for a new twist...how about brunch?

(That's my Daddy-O, with me the day I graduated from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, and my no-longer-so-little sis Etta.)

My husband (painting above by Maud Bryt) loves brunch, with all the trimmings - eggs, meats, sweets, mimosas, all of it.  His perfect day would be to play basketball, come home to a fabulous brunch, then stretch out at the pool with a good book and some tunes.  Little dip, little nap, all good.  In fact, that's exactly what he'll be doing this coming Sunday.

Some Father's Day brunch ideas...

Eggs Baked with Scallions, Breadcrumbs & Cream with hot buttered toast
Rich, buttery Asparagus, Leek, & Gruyere Quiche
The killicious BLT I made below: BLT with Fried Egg & Avocado
Potato-Pepper Hash with Baked Eggs
Happy kids, Happy Dad with Buttermilk Pancakes, warm syrup, & a side of crispy bacon
Warm Cream Biscuits filled with fried sausages
Creamy Polenta alongside eggs & ham
Warm Scones with plenty of butter & jam

Add hot coffee or tea, mimosas or Bloody Mary's.

Here's a video of some of the pics I put together for my dad's birthday last year.  Makes a good Father's Day montage!  Happy Father's Day everyone!

If mint over-runneth your garden - chives too, for that matter - then this pesto is for you.  It's surprisingly mild, luscious with toasted almonds and olive oil (no cheese).  It makes a quick, lovely dinner, especially tossed with fresh tomatoes (as written) or a handful or two of your favorite lightly sauteed vegetables.  (My tomatoes were just meh, so I added English peas, asparagus, and spinach instead.  Very un-meh, as in tasty.)

This recipe hails from Lynn Rosetto Kasper's The Italian Country Table, one of my favorite cookbooks.  She suggests a combination of toasted almonds, pistachios, and pine nuts for maximum nuttiness.  But if you're pinched for time (and ingredients), almonds alone are fabulous too.  I used garlic scapes in place of garlic, because I had them, but I'll print the original recipe below and you can riff away.  Seriously, if you do have tons of chives, throw some in.  And if you like, add more olive oil than called for.  This pesto is less oily than others, which works because you toss it into the pasta with plenty of pasta cooking water (a great trick for getting by with less oil).  But if you like an oilier pesto, then add it.  That's the cool thing about pesto (other than being completely delicious) - it's pretty hard to screw up.

While you contemplate your pesto ingredients and wait for your water to boil, crush several mint leaves in a glass with a wooden spoon, then fill the glass with ice, add a shot of gin (or vodka), and a shot of grapefruit juice.  Top it all off with tonic water and give a little stir.

So pretty, right?  Pure summer.

Ahhhh...

Linguine with Pistachio-Almond Pesto
Adapted from The Italian Country Table by Lynne Rosetto Kasper
Serves 8 as a first course; 4-6 as a main dish

Note: I added 1/2 c. of shelled peas, 1/2 c. of chopped asparagus, and 1 c. of chopped spinach to the version in the photo.  While the pasta cooks, saute the vegetables in 1 Tbsp. of olive oil, with a sprinkle of salt, for a few minutes until spinach is wilted and peas and asparagus are just tender-crisp.  Add to the serving bowl along with the pesto, tomatoes, and olive oil, per below.

1/2 c. unblanched whole almonds, toasted
1/2 c. shelled salted pistachio nuts, toasted
1/3 c. pine nuts, toasted
1 large clove garlic
pinch of hot red pepper flakes
1/4 c. fruity extra-virgin olive oil, or more to taste, plus extra for drizzling
40 large mint leaves
salt & freshly ground black pepper
1 lb. linguine, spaghetti, bucatini, or other string pasta
1 lb. good cherry tomatoes, quartered

Mix the cooled toasted nuts.  Coarsely chop about one quarter of them and set aside.  Add the garlic, hot pepper flakes, olive oil, remaining whole nuts, and 2/3 of the mint leaves to the bowl of a food processor.  Process until the mixture looks like very coarse meal.  Season to taste with salt and pepper.  Tear up the remaining mint leaves.

Cook the pasta in fiercely boiling water, stirring often, until tender yet firm to the bite.

As the pasta cooks, gently blend the pesto, tomatoes, and a drizzle of the oil in a deep pasta bowl.  Skim off 1/2 to 3/4 c. of the pasta cooking water just before draining, and drain the pasta in a colander.  Add the pasta water to the bowl.  Add the sauce, pasta, chopped nuts, and salt and pepper to taste and toss.  Then toss in the reserved torn mint.  Taste for seasoning, adding extra oil, mint, salt, and/or pepper if needed.  Serve hot or warm.  No cheese is used here.

Shauna - aka Gluten-Free Girl - tweeted over the weekend about a fun project she thought up for today.  She invited food bloggers anywhere and everywhere to post about The First Thing They Ever Cooked.  When I saw her tweet, I smiled and sent myself a reminder email titled, "Buttermilk Pancakes!" (That's what I do these days, email myself reminders, sigh.)

As if I'd forget about pancakes!  I spent the first nine years of my life completely obsessed with the little butter delivery vehicles, and while I don't eat them so often anymore, they hold a warm, fluffy place in my heart.

While my mom, my stepmom Susanna, and my Grandma Meyer taught me how to cook - or even better, let me learn how to cook - my dad was actually the pancake maker in our family.  He flipped pancakes most Sunday mornings on a big electric pancake griddle.  In the winter he'd make them in the kitchen, but in the summer he'd set up the griddle outside on the patio, and Stacey and I would chow down at the picnic table, hair bleached from living in the Lakefield swimming pool, mosquito-bitten legs dangling from our favorite summer pajamas (that's me with the short hair).  The skillet would ping as it cooled down, the perfect accompaniment to the carbs flowing into our veins.  Those were nice days.

When all the Meyers would gather at Dickerson's Resort on Lake Florida, my dad would make pancakes for the crowd.  I was an annoyingly picky eater as a child, with a small appetite, but pancakes, yeah, I would always eat pancakes.  My dad would hand me a stack and I'd get to work tucking butter slices between each layer, all the way to the top.  After a generous pour of Aunt Jemima syrup, I was ready to dig in, melted butter and thick syrup pooling together in a sweet, glossy frame.  Mmmm...

One year I made the mistake of eating 20 pancakes in one sitting.  I was utterly, disgustingly stuffed, but that wasn't the problem.  My error was packing that many away in front of all of my cousins, man, I've never heard the end of it.  My grandma said, "She's about to grow," and she was right (of course).  I shot up four inches that summer.  The Power of Pancakes.

The recipe my dad followed was on the back of the Bisquick box.  The first version I made, however, The First Thing I Ever Cooked, was from The Betty Crocker Cookbook.  I was up early one weekend morning, and hungry for pancakes (shocker), so I decided to make them on my own.  My dad had let me flip them before, and my grandma had let me crack eggs and measure flour for cake batter.  I felt ready to fly solo.  We were out of Bisquick, so I leafed through the cookbook and found a recipe for buttermilk pancakes.  There was no buttermilk in the fridge, but there was a note in the recipe about how to create a buttermilk substitution by adding vinegar to milk.  Worked like a charm.  I made several pale, crinkled cakes before I got brave enough to 1) turn the griddle heat high enough, and 2) flip the pancakes with some confidence, but I eventually found a groove.  After I'd amassed a passable stack, I started tucking butter, pouring syrup, and digging in.  They were good.

And I was off and running.  I taught myself to stir in chocolate chips and other goodies.  I liked them really thick and fluffy...until I discovered crepes.  Lovely, eggy crepes, filled with berries or bananas, or nothing at all (but a pat of butter).  I made pancakes so often that I finally got tired of them.  True.  And a little sad.

These days, I still make pancakes for myself and for my son, but I don't tuck butter slices between each pancake.  I stir whole grain flour and flaxseeds into the batter, and often add a scattering of blueberries just before flipping.  Sometimes I layer the hotcakes with cottage cheese for added protein and staying power (very tasty, I highly recommend).  If I use syrup at all, it's real maple syrup - sorry Aunt Jemima.  I still love pancakes, but I guess that learning how to make them myself ended my obsession.

Although this version, from The Breakfast Book by Marion Cunningham, threatens to reignite my passion.  These pancakes are tender, fluffy, and completely delicious.  Despite the whole-wheat flour, they are light as air, yet sturdy enough to hold blueberries or nuts if you're so inclined.  I spooned on some of the strawberry-rhubarb compote I had in the fridge, which I wouldn't have touched as a kid, but I added maple syrup too.

And a pat of butter on top, for old times' sake.

What's the first thing you ever cooked?  (Note: here's the compilation post that Gluten-Free Girl put together, listing the entries of everyone who responded.  Excellent reading, there are so many talented writers out there!  And lovely food memories...)

Buttermilk Pancakes
From The Breakfast Book by Marion Cunningham
Makes 14, 3-inch pancakes

Note: The batter holds well in the refrigerator for several days.

1 c. buttermilk (I use a bit more, more like 1 1/4 c.)
1 egg
3 Tbsp. butter, melted
3/4 c. all-purpose flour (or 1/2 c. whole-wheat flour, 1/4 c. all-purpose flour)
2 Tbsp. ground flaxseeds (optional)
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda

Put the buttermilk, egg, and melted butter in a mixing bowl.  Stir briskly until the mixture is smooth and blended.

Stir the flour, flax seeds (if using), salt, and baking soda together in a small bowl so they are well blended.  Stir into the buttermilk mixture only until the dry ingredients are moistened - leave the lumps.

Heat a skillet or griddle to medium hot.  Grease lightly and spoon out about 3 Tbsp. of batter per pancake.  Spread the batter with the back of the spoon so it is thinned out a little.  Cook until a few bubbles break on top.  Turn the pancake over and cook briefly.  Keep pancakes warm until enough are cooked to serve.

Have you seen the movie Spanglish?  It's not a terrible movie, especially given The Sandwich - a scene-stealer, developed by French Laundry Chef Thomas Keller.  Basically a BLT, with the sumptuous addition of melted cheese and a fried egg.  Adam Sandler's character lovingly prepares it all, step-by-step, then pours himself a tall, cold beer to wash it all down.  Holy Hannah.  It's hard to top Paz Vega's gorgeousness, but The Sandwich comes awfully close.

John and I love a close approximation, pretty much the Spanglish with avocado instead of melted cheese.  There's nothing to making it - just put together a BLT, using the bacon drippings to fry an egg to your liking (yeah).  Go for the original version (check out a video here), or lightly mash half of an avocado with a sprinkle of salt and spread on one piece of the toast in place of the cheese.  When tomatoes are actually good around here?  Help.  Us.

(I had zero light for pics, sorry, did the best I could.  It has been dark in Minnesota for days, grrr.)