HotM 12: Stews and Casseroles (Round-Up)

Hi Everyone! The seasons are changing and Spring is arriving before long in my part of the world, and while I can't wait for it to get here (I'm already dreaming of fava beans and big, lucious strawberries), I try to remember that it's important to live in the present and enjoy these last weeks of winter and wintertime food and experiences before they fade away...curling up under warm woolen blankets, reading books while sipping steaming hot cups of tea, cuddling in front of a crackling fire in the fireplace and the cozy comfort that sweaters and jeans and scarves offer against the crisp air. I know the incredibly diverse entries for this month's Heart of the Matter will help carry me through and give me something to curl up and relish these last few chilly, gray weeks of Winter with. I hope they give you some heart-healthy ideas for winter warming too!

A big thank you to everyone who participated this month, welcome to all of the new participants as well, and a special thanks to Bee at Jugalbandi who brought it to my attention that in my scattered-brained way, I posted the wrong email address on the announcement (my apologies for the inconvenience)! I've posted the entries in the order they arrived, and separated them into two catagories based on the titles you sent in - first "stews," followed by "casseroles," so that you can find whatever it might be that you're craving. Next month will be hosted by Ilva, which will be our 1 year anniversary for Heart of the Matter! Keep those wonderful recipes coming!

So without further adieu:

STEWS

Melissa from Gluten Free For Good sent us her "Hearty" Bison and Vegetable Stew. As a nutritionist, this food nutritionista's blog is filled with great tips for how to eat smart and be healthy (including heart-healthy!), as well as the bonus that her recipes are also gluten free for those that follow a gluten free lifestyle. (*note: her recipe isn't up on her blog just yet, but keep an eye out for it soon, she's been busy...)

The Food Monkeys (and very cute couple), Joel and Amy, let us into their kitchen as they tried lentils for the first time - and fell for them! For their entry, they shared their yummy sounding recipe for a low-fat and low sodium Turkey Lentil Stew.

My co-host Ilva from Lucullian Delights sent in a comforting dessert stew, her Gingery Fruit Stew with Barley, which sounds like the perfect end to any winter meal!

Laurie is really in the heart of winter up in chilly and beautiful Alaska, and she takes us to Greece with her blog, Mediterranean Cooking in Alaska, as she shares her story and a Greek village dish called Chicken Kikkinistos with Potatoes.

Bee and Jai, the masterminds behind the vegetarian blog Jugalbandi, shared with us their recipe for Canary Beans with Fenugreek, filling us up on tidbits about the interesting ingredients too!

Tania, from The Candied Quince, offered up a recipe for a healthy and hardy version of a vegetarian Zuni Stew. This is her first time participating and we hope she'll keep coming back!

The three ladies over at Peanut Butter Etouffee, Doodles, Moon and the Maltese Parakeet (don't you just love those names?) sent in their recipe for a Mushroom Barley Stew that looks like it could warm up any heart.

Chris, from Mele Cote, really got to the "heart of the matter" with her step-by-step photographs and instructions for her heart-healthy Fish Stew (even served up on a very cute platter!).

Ann, over at Redacted Recipes, shared with us a recipe for her low-fat, low calorie and spicy Green Chicken Pazole and in her post, she goes into even more depth and shares some interesting health facts about hominy, one of the main ingredients!

Kimberly, a brand new blogger began her blog, Seasons Without Salt, with her very first post as an entry for this event (how's that for making us feel special!?). She'll be showing us all how to eat a low-sodium, heart-healthy diet on her blog and if her entry, Morrocan-Spiced Sweet Potato and Chickpea Stew is a taste of what's to come, then it sounds delicious!

Diane takes us on a Gluten Free Journey with her recipe for the gluten-free Stifado, a heart-happy classic Greek stew, redolent with lots of warm, comforting spices.

CASSEROLES

Sally sends us a one-dish meal that is gluten-, casein-, soy-, and egg-free, her Spaghetti Squash Casserole. Her blog, Aprovechar, is full of many allergen free recipes as well as a hefty dose of inspiration.

Anke, from the blog Vegan Bounty, presented us with her vegan Spinach-Squash Lasagna recipe. Believe it! This lasagna is actually 100% cholesterol free and very low fat, and it looks positively delicious.

Ilva also sent in a casserole in true Lucullian Delight form, using a few simple ingredients and coming out with a beautiful-looking dish. Check out her Oven Cooked Vegetable Casserole with Farro and Mushrooms.

My namesake, Michelle, at Greedy Gourmet sent in another one-pot dish with a fabulous- sounding recipe for Pork Sausage, Leek, Carrot and Butter Bean Casserole.

The hilarious Katie, from Thyme for Cooking entered her recipe for very comforting looking Italian Beef and Cabbage Casserole, even though she was traveling in chilly Minnesota! What a trooper! ;)

Johanna, from the vegetarian blog, Green Gourmet Giraffe, offered up her recipe for her Spicy Prune and Bean Casserole. I love the idea of using dried fruit in this hearty, savory dish!

From the Southern U.S. and food blog, Food for Laughter, Astra gives us a lightened up version of her childhood favorite, Grown-Up Tuna Casserole. This was her first time participating too and I hope we'll be seeing more of her in the future!

Miri, the author of the blog Peppermill, sent us her tagine recipe (which you can also cook in a casserole dish or even a slow-cooker!)f or Chickpea, Raw Mango and Apricot Tagine with Couscous. As an added bonus, she even tells us all about the benefits of apricots and chickpeas for heart health.

On Gaining an Understanding of Connectivity, Pocketbooks and People

We don’t have a lot of extra money. Sure, we get by. LB and I have some savings now, finally, which is nice – because for a long time, we didn’t. We basically lived life paycheck to paycheck, and for the most part still do (for when you make more, you spend more...and it always seems that life throws some unexpected expenses your way, like broken down cars or moving to a very expensive island in five weeks!), and that’s with two jobs. Each.

Yet, I can still justify (to myself, mind you, as LB is a sweetheart and doesn’t say anything about it) buying a gourmet food item here and there or a nice bottle of wine when I come across one I like. I buy high-quality food for our meals, mostly organic, and I’ll pay more for local ingredients too, especially if the humble farmer is willing to deliver organic eggs to our doorstep or sells us incredibly delicious hormone-free free-range pork like the gorgeous entire tenderloin we got recently from him:

This means that nearly as large a portion of our budget goes to food as it does to rent (yikes!). We have been known to buy wine to compliment a meal we’ll be having (usually on the recommendation of a very competent wine guru whom I completely trust), have spent upwards of $25 on appetizers (which we enjoyed thoroughly and completely, by ourselves, and “just because”), and I’ll often impulsively buy ingredients (or wine) at food festivals simply because they are there and I just might never see them again. All of this for one day (or meal) to be shared eating, drinking, and laughing. And you know what?

It’s worth it.

Do we have the extra money? Sort-of. We do each have two jobs. So, you could say we treat ourselves occasionally. But then again, the car needs fixed, there’s the move looming soon (very soon – another yikes!) in the future, there’s debt to be paid off and retirement to start saving for...so should we be spending our extra money? No. Could we spend less or settle for less? Probably. Will we? No...not while we’re in Eugene, anyhow (Hawaii might be a different story). I’ve tried to reason why this might be... why we might be so willing to spend our limited funds on food? Food is transient – you eat it, it’s gone. Some of it is wasted (think of those vegetables sitting in the crisper...). Is it the taste of the food? Is it a fear of what goes into our bodies? Is it a desire to spend, spend, spend, consume, consume, consume? No, no, no...well, maybe a little yes on the question of taste and pesticide-laden foods, but for the most part: No. What is it then?

It’s the experience.

It’s the connection with each other and with other people. The connection shared with our friends and family at the table, over a glass of wine or some incredible cheese – elbows up, smiles and laughter all around. It’s the connection with the people that sold the food to us, with the land and the farmers that grew it - many we have met here and many we know share the same soil and the same practices and philosophies as we do - and the hands and hard work that created it. It’s the romantic notions of how an amazing meal should unfold - not necessarily how it’s “supposed” to be in the imagination of Martha Stewart or Miss Manners (ie. perfectly folded napkins, fine china, proper couture...), but the idea that when we have that wine again or that cheese or that chestnut stuffing some Thanksgiving down the road, it will recall the memory of all the connected experiences once more...that we might remember the encounter of buying the food or wine, the shared familiarity of eating it... and it's the belief that later, we might just gain a few extra moments of happiness from that day, even though it is in the past.

Human beings are blessed with memories – we are the only creatures that live in our past as much as our present. The memories of the people we have known, of history and of places we have been, of things that make our hearts sing and our mouths speechless – these are all a huge part of who we are and the stories we share with others. Take wine tasting, for example. The adventure of traveling to the hills of the Willamette Valley, the whole experience of sipping, of quiet afternoons spent talking (sometimes about the wine, most of the time not) and gazing out across the grape vines. And the way a bottle in the wine rack at home calls forth the memory of being there. You just can’t get that when you buy a box of wine at your local convenience store or similarly, from an out-of-season, perfectly round, cardboard tomato at the grocery store (not that I haven’t bought my own fair share of those, of course).

You see, I buy more when I connect with the people who are selling me the food or wine. It’s not because I’m tipsy and thus looser with my money (well, I keep telling myself that). It’s not because I’m rich and have the money to spend (I don't). It’s because I so enjoyed the experience of being there and of talking to a certain tasting room manager about the Library of Congress releasing the Years of Bounty exhibit that I ended up with that $25 bottle of 2004 Pinot Noir from High Pass Vineyards (and oh yes, I have ended up with far more expensive bottles of wine other times and at other places, each one unique not only in taste but in memories) that I won’t be going out for a movie the end of this month, or that my savings is more meager than might be thought respectable at almost 30 years of age. But do I care right now? No. Will I later? Perhaps. But the memories will be what I remember, and I would never trade those for more money.

When I think of the people and places that I will miss the most when leave here and move to Hawaii in 5 short weeks, I realize that for the most part they are all connected to food or wine. My closest friends and I have spent an incredible number nights sharing bottles of wine together, my winery friends are near and dear to my heart, and the places I will miss the most are the farmer's market, the restaurants, and the food stores where I have spent so much time over the last several years – getting to know the proprietors, the bartenders, the waitresses and the farmers. Not to mention the incredible local ingredients...hazelnuts, chanterelles, wild salmon, and so many more (and Pinot – oh God, they don’t make Pinot in Hawaii!). At least there will be new and wonderful people and things to explore, and I do find solace (and excitement) in that.

Ultimately, I think that food and wine are as much about people as they are about taste – people eating, drinking, talking, blogging, telling stories and connecting with each other. The people I share food with (or the experience of making it or buying it) are what make it all worthwhile. I think that’s why I fell in love with all things culinary, with blogging, and with my job at the winery. Because truly, when it comes down to it, Life is really all about the people we share it with.


This is a recipe for a roasted fresh ham (ie. a "ham," or pork leg roast, that has not been cured). The recipe is simple, easy and pretty enough to serve to company so that you can enjoy those precious moments (or hours) at the table with the people you adore. The pork leg roast came from Paul Atkinson, who owns and runs Laughing Stock Farm locally. The pigs were cared for with love and respect, and it shines through in the meat...it's the best pork you can find in Eugene, in my opinion, and we've been buying meat and fresh eggs from Paul (who graciously delivers everything to our doorstep) for over two years now. There's nothing like it, and I will most certainly miss it when we leave!

Roasted Fresh Ham with Onion Jus, serves 6
**amounts are approximate, so use your intuition too!

1 fresh pork leg roast (approx. 2-3 lbs)
1 tbsp. salt
several grinds of fresh pepper
1 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp dry rubbed sage
2 tsp herbs de provence
2 cups dry white wine
1 cup water
1 large sweet onion, thickly sliced

Preheat the oven to 425 F. Rinse the pork and pat it dry (thoroughly dry) with paper towels. Carve diagonal lines into the fat cap on top of the pork roast approximately 1 inch apart - you can do this both directions to make a diamond pattern (like I did), but it's not necessary. Try not to carve into the meat! Place the sliced onions in the bottom of a roasting dish or pan. Mix the herbs, salt, pepper and olive oil in a small bowl to form a sort of wet paste, then rub the paste into the meat on all sides and place it in the roasting dish on top of the onions. Pour 1/2 cup of the wine and 1/2 cup of the water into the bottom of the dish.

Put the roasting dish in the oven and roast for 30 minutes at 425F. Turn the oven down to 350F, and roast for approximately 1.5 hours more (or until the internal temperature reaches about 155F), turning it around once and putting a sheet of foil over the top of the roast if it begins to burn (ours didn't). As the wine and water evaporate, add the rest of each to the bottom of the pan and baste the roast occasionally to keep it most.

Remove the roast to a plate and cover it with foil, letting it rest for about 20 minutes before slicing. Meanwhile, pour the juices and onions into a small saucepan and let it simmer gently until it reduces and begins to thicken - you can also blend a few of the onions into the sauce to make it thicker or add a bit of arrowroot or cornstarch in some stock if you want a heartier sauce. Enjoy!

A Hearty Casserole: HotM 12

“...the heart is an organ of fire.” ~The English Patient

As human beings, we live by our hearts – both physiologically and emotionally. The heart is what keeps our blood pumping through our veins and arteries, propelling us through the world and allowing us to seek out the very things we desire with it. Emotionally, it is the base of the soul and the source of who we are – the dichotomy of feeling things with our hearts or trying to analyze them with our heads, and choosing between the two, is a conundrum that captivates even the most callused of individuals. The heart and the emotions emanating forth from it have captured the imagination of poets and artists alike for centuries and will continue on for as long as poets and artists exist. Its location in our chests is the very place we feel the blossom of love and the poignant pain of losing it (even if it is our brain that ultimately controls such things). And in certain philosophies, the heart is the utmost center of our being – and thus no other organ has such profound importance.


We cannot live without our hearts. Physiologically and emotionally, we must protect them in order to go on living. While the complexities of the emotional heart are far too great to go into here and warrant far more in-depth discussion, scientific research shows that there is much we can do to protect the physical heart. Low sodium, lots of antioxidants, low saturated fat, lots of fruits and vegetables – we’ve been collecting dos and don’ts for quite some time. And Joanna, Ilva and I have been collecting heart-healthy recipes for nearly a year now for the Heart of the Matter – our blog and archive of healthy eating to protect your heart. This month, the theme was Stews and Casseroles, and the heart-healthy dish I’m offering up is a Cauliflower and Rice Curry Casserole. It’s gluten-free, low in saturated fat, packed with veggies (vegetarian, even) and heart-healthy ingredients (like pecans and mustard greens) and better still, it’s delicious.

Like love, there are some dishes that are difficult and take time to develop, but the end result is worth it. This Indian-style casserole takes a similar approach. Be aware that it’s almost an hour of chopping, measuring, making dirty dishes and wondering if you’re doing it right (I was sure there wasn't enough rice and too many mustard greens). But in the end when it finally comes together and out of the oven, all tender and steaming and with just the right amount of spice, everything cooked down and flavorful and mellow, I promise you won’t be disappointed.

There is a little less than one week to get me your entries for HotM 12: Stews and Casseroles. I’ll happily take them until the 25th of February (even giving you an extra day!) and try to post them in the round-up by Wednesday or Thursday. If you have never participated, you can find the announcement and rules by checking here and here, and we would love to have you join us! If you’ve already been submitting recipes in previous months, we hope you’ll be joining us once again this month (I haven't received very many entries yet...)! You can send your entries to me at mphilli4 AT uoregon DOT edu


Cauliflower and Rice Curry Casserole, serves 6
adapted from Eating Well

2 large tomatoes, coarsely chopped
1 sweet onion, 1/2 coarsely chopped and 1/2 thinly sliced
2 fresh Thai chiles, finely chopped
2 tablespoons canola oil, divided
1/2 cup golden raisins
1/4 cup raw pecans
1 tsp cumin seeds
4 cardamom pods, crushed slightly
1 3-inch cinnamon stick
1 tsp garam masala
1 tsp salt, divided
1/2 tsp ground turmeric
1 cup brown rice
1 bunch (8 ounces) mustard greens, tough ribs removed, leaves finely chopped
8 ounces cauliflower, cut into 1/2-inch florets
1 15-ounce can chickpeas, rinsed
4 cups water, divided
1/2 teaspoon saffron threads

Cook the brown rice in a rice cooker or pan with 3 cups of water and the saffron until the rice is tender and perfumed with the saffron.

Meanwhile, puree tomatoes, chopped onion and chiles to taste in a blender or food processor until smooth. Heat 1 tablespoon of oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add raisins and pecans and cook, stirring, until the raisins are plump and the nuts are lightly brown. Transfer the nuts and raisons to a plate with a slotted spoon, leaving the oil in the pan.

Add cumin seeds, cardamom pods, and the cinnamon stick to the pan and cook, stirring, until fragrant, about 30 seconds to 1 minute. Then add the sliced onion and cook, stirring, until the onion turns a light brown, about 2 to 3 minutes. Carefully pour in the pureed tomato mixture and reduce heat to medium. Stir in garam masala, 3/4 teaspoon salt and turmeric. Simmer, partially covered, stirring occasionally, until most of the liquid evaporates, about 15 minutes. Stir the mustard greens, cauliflower, chickpeas and 1 cup water into the tomato sauce. Cover and remove from the heat.

Preheat oven to 350°F. Lightly coat a 9-by-13-inch baking dish with cooking spray. Spread half the chickpea curry evenly in the prepared baking dish. Spread half the rice mixture on top of the curry. Spoon the remaining chickpea mixture over the rice, then spread the remaining rice on top of that. Scatter the reserved raisins and cashews over the top, then cover tightly with foil. Bake until the cauliflower is tender, about 40 minutes. Remove the cardamom pods (if you can find them!) and cinnamon sticks before serving (you could remove the cardamom earlier if you’re having guests and are worried about them).

A Little Guilt Works Wonders

...especially if your hubby is an Irish/Italian Catholic and you ever so sweetly (but not necessarily discreetly) give him a good-natured little jab on your blog about how much he didn't want to celebrate a commercially-endorsed holiday designed to make lovers feel pressured to show their love and singles remorse about being single.

To be fair, he did say we could do lovey-dovey things on any other, non-commercially endorsed days of the year (ahem, pick your day, sweetheart). So: Pooey on Valentine's Day, but yay for an excuse to make fancy food and eat rich, decadent desserts (I'll take that any day!).

So without further adieu, the recipe:


Homemade Tagliatelle with Truffles and Oozy Cheese Sauce, serves 2
adapted from a recipe by Jamie Oliver

For the pasta:
2 large organic eggs
1 cups pasta flour, plus extra for dusting
Sea salt

For the cheese sauce:
1/2 cup creme fraiche
2.5 ounces sliced fontina
2.5 ounces freshly grated Parmesan
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/2 pound broccoli
1 large organic egg yolks
1 small handful fresh marjoram leaves - chopped

Freshly grated Parmesan, for serving
1 large, fresh truffle, shaved
Extra-virgin olive oil

Crack the eggs into a food processor and add the flour. Pulse it until the pasta turns sort of doughy and crumbly. Jamie says you can test the consistency by pinching the dough, and if it's a bit sticky add a little more flour and pulse again - this actually works! Use pasta flour though - we used all-purpose and it ended up a little chewier than it should have been.

Tip the dough mixture onto a floured surface and shape it into a ball with your hands. Give it a little knead until smooth, then divide the dough into 2 equal parts. Start on the thickest setting of your pasta machine and run the first bit of dough through 4 or 5 times, moving the rollers closer together each time until the pasta is silky, smooth and about as thick as a CD. Flour your finished sheet generously, then fold it up and cut across into 1/2-inch strips. Gather all the slices together and toss them through your fingers, with a little flour, to open them up and make your pile of rustic, beautiful tagliatelle. Repeat this procedure with the rest of the dough.

Bring a large pan of salted water to the boil. In a bowl large enough to rest on top of the pan like a double-boiler, put your creme fraiche, fontina or other melting cheese and your Parmesan with a pinch of salt and pepper. Place the bowl over the pan for the cheeses to slowly melt. Meanwhile, trim any dry ends off the broccoli, then finely slice the stalks diagonally and cut the florets into smaller pieces.

At this point the cheese sauce will be melted, so remove the bowl from above the pan and drop the pasta and broccoli into the boiling water. Boil hard for 2 to 3 minutes, until the pasta is just cooked through. Whip up the 2 egg yolks and the marjoram into the sauce. Don't use too much here as marjaram is very piney flavored (that's why you should chop it) and any big pieces are going to overpower everything! Drain the pasta and broccoli, reserving a little of the cooking water, and quickly toss them with the sauce - the heat from the pasta will be enough to cook the eggs through. If the sauce is a little thick, add a few splashes of cooking water to make it silky and loose. Taste and season, if necessary. Serve as quickly as you can, with some extra Parmesan and the shaved truffles sprinkled over the top and a drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil.

For another homemade pasta recipe and story, try this.
And, if needed, further coersion techniques can be found here.

Valentine's Day Dreaming

Okay, I admit it. I know I said it was okay if we didn't celebrate Valentine's Day, but honey, I’m as girly as girly can be sometimes. Sure, I’m a rock climber, I rather enjoy a bout of hard, physical labor at times, and I don’t wear trendy clothes or even comb my hair in the morning (Hey! I'm a scientist, after all!). But when Valentine’s Day comes around – be it a mere holiday capitalized upon by the commercial card industry or no – deep down inside, I want the whole shebang. I’m not talking about dozens of $150 roses, hydrogenated milk chocolates that come in shiny heart-shaped red boxes, teddy bears with plastic hearts with “I love you” stamped across them, or drippingly sappy cards expressing your undying love for me and how it’s as "deep as an ocean" or makes you feel "as free as a bird" (although I do like sappy sentiments as much as the next girly girl) – I’m talking about food, baby! Food. Delicious, lovely, rich, sexy food.

No, I don’t want to go and fight off the masses of starry-eyed lovers holding hands across the dinner table at some $300 pre fix menu (although, being a reasonable woman, I would happily accompany you any other night as your date for a $300 pre fix menu and/or gaze at you across a dinner table with starry eyes). Truly, all I want is a dinner at home, cooked together, good music on in the background and a fabulous (though not necessarily expensive) wine in hand. Bonus points if the wine actually compliments the dinner too.

And while we're on the subject, should you feel so inclined, I love flowers too. No, there’s no need to give me roses, or even buy me flowers – a single stem of some flower that you found beautiful or picked yourself (in February? Well, just don’t get arrested then, because I certainly don’t want to spend the night alone because of that!) would be more than adequate. We could put it that old antique Coke bottle and make it the centerpiece of our dining table and it would be positively heartwarming...and heck, we could even gaze at each other across the table and the coke bottle with starry eyes if you wanted to. But even flowers come second to food.

Because as I said before, it’s really all about the food. What kind of food would we make then? Delicious, lovely, rich, sexy food of course. How about soft piles of pillowy homemade pasta? A little flour on our hands and our cheeks is just as sexy, or more so, as some slinky lingerie, don’t you think? Can’t you imagine rolling out the layers of dough together, laughter emerging from the kitchen, and fingers brushing softly as we try and hold the layers up? And the sauce...how about an oozy, creamy, silky sauce? How about fontina, Parmesan, farm-fresh eggs, and the scent of truffles and fresh marjoram kissing the surface of each slender, hand-cut piece? Sound rich enough for you? Sexy enough for you?

Now, wouldn't that be worth the teeny tiny bit of extra effort required? What do you care if it's on February 14th? Even if it is a commercially endorsed holiday? If your girl is happy, you're happy, right? And I know you don't like to pass up delicious food. Well, okay, now you know. I've said my peace, I've admitted my girliness (and you know how tough that is for this girl). Maybe next year then...

Does anyone else find this as funny as I do?

Bunghole Liquors - Salem, Massachusetts

I learned from the winery where I work that a "bunghole" refers to:

"A hole bored into a liquid tight barrel, the hole capped with a large cork-like object called a bung." ~ Wikipedia

We, in fact, have many barrels of wine with bungholes and bungs in the winery - and I draw my chemistry samples from these bungholes nearly every time I am there. So, while my mind tends to wander to other possible definitions, and some child-like snickering is thus inevitable, this is truly a suitable name for a store that sells wine and liquor.

But I still think it's funny.

Under Pressure...

Deadlines. As much as I hate having a deadline, because it means I actually have to get something done (and that, ahem, especially applies to work), I work best under pressure. I pride myself on the fact that if there is something that has got to get done, then I’ll get it done. I wrote my PhD dissertation in six weeks - all two-hundred and eleven pages of it. I will stay up all night finishing a talk or measuring residual sugar samples at the winery. And if I know someone is depending on me getting something done, then by God, I’m going to do it!!

But I’m not so good with food blog deadlines. In fact, I am terrible at keeping up with them unless I know that I absolutely have to do them – like when I am the host... why? I don’t know. Perhaps because I gain so much happiness from the very act of cooking and I am only able to enjoy it a few days a week now, so I like to take my time. Or maybe it is really because I refuse to take pictures when it is dark outside, which pretty much restricts my food blog posts to stuff I can cook on the weekends when the light is at least somewhat acceptable – IF I get to cook on the weekend. And IF I can find time during the workday to write the post and the recipe that goes with it (I must get internet access at home...), which unfortunately for me, has not happened this entire week.

While I don’t have the time to participate in many food events these days, aside from Heart of the Matter, of course (yep=hosting!), I used to do them every once in a while. One of my favorites to read about was Paper Chef...where four ingredients are randomly chosen and bloggers around the world send in their recipes combining those ingredients with others and somehow making them into a delicious amalgam of uniquely crafted yummy-ness. Not to mention, I love seeing what other bloggers have come up with using the same ingredients!

I’ve only participated in Paper Chef once before, and it was a long time ago and almost nearly a disaster, but what I enjoyed most about it was that I got to try ingredients that I hadn’t cooked with and combine them in ways that I hadn’t really thought of before (and maybe would never combine them in that way again...). And I was late for that one too.

This month, Ilva from Lucullian Delights has taken over hosting responsibilities for this fabulous event, and the four ingredients chosen were: rutabagas, potatoes, plum tomatoes and bacon. While I missed the deadline and the round-up, this recipe turned out so well that I had to post it anyway. The first thing I thought of when I saw the “final four” was a potato gratin. I adapted the ingredients a bit by using Canadian bacon instead of just plain old bacon (it's healthier!) and used regular on-the-vine tomatoes because I couldn’t find plum tomatoes at the grocery store. While the tomatoes right now are positively appalling (good Lord – they’re mealy pale pink hockey pucks!) and I won’t use anything but cherry tomatoes for the rest of the winter, this recipe was really fairly healthy and delicious and I will definitely be making it again. You could certainly leave off the “pseudo-gremolata” too – I added it in trying to keep with the Paper Chef theme - but it was kind of refreshing atop the richness of the rest of the dish, and both LB and I decided we liked the combination.


Potato-Rutabaga Gratin with Tomato-Lemon Gremolata, serves 6

Gratin:
1 clove garlic, whole
3 tsp. olive oil, divided
3 medium Yukon gold potatoes, thinly sliced into rounds
1 large rutabaga, thinly sliced into rounds (see how big in the picture?!)
2 slices of canadian bacon, finely chopped (practically minced, but not quite)
salt and pepper
1 tbsp. butter, melted
1/8 tsp of nutmeg
1 ½ cups non-fat milk
1 slice of whole-grain bread

Gremolata:
3 tomatoes, chopped (preferably not mealy pale pink hockey pucks)
2 tbsp. parsley, finely chopped
1 meyer lemon (or regular lemon), zested
2 tsp. olive oil
a little salt, and a little sugar if you’ve got mealy pale pink hockey pucks

Preheat the oven to 425F. Cut the garlic clove in half and rub it all along the inside of a casserole dish (I don’t know how big mine was – a medium-sized square that made ~6 side-dish servings!), and reserve it. Add 1 tsp of olive oil, then layer the Yukon golds until they cover the bottom of the dish, slightly overlapping them. Do the same with half of the rutabaga slices. Drizzle the melted butter over the top of the rutabaga and add a pinch of salt and a pinch of pepper to the top. Sprinkle on about half of the canadian bacon.

Next, repeat the layers of potatoes and rutabaga. Then salt and pepper the top layer. Heat the milk and nutmeg to boiling over medium-low heat, stirring often. As soon as it boils, pour it over the layers of root veggies. Add the rest of the canadian bacon. Next, pulse the slice of bread in a food processor (I took off the crusts and used a middle slice from a round of seeded whole-wheat sourdough from a local bakery). Once it looks like crumbs, add the remaining 2 tsp. of olive oil and pulse again a few times. Sprinkle the crumbs over the top of the dish. Place it in the oven and cook for 45 to 50 minutes or until the potatoes and rutabaga are tender and the crumbs are lightly browned.

Meanwhile, mix up the gremolata. Add the chopped tomatoes, parsley, meyer lemon zest and juice from half of the lemon, and olive oil together and mix. Add salt, pepper and sugar to taste. Serve the potatoes with the gremolata sprinkled over the top or off to the side so that it can be scooted in as desired with every bite.

HotM12: Stews and Casseroles

It’s that time of the month again! No, not when PMS hormones are raging and I feel like throwing books or other trinkets at LB when he asks me how my day is. It’s time for Heart of the Matter – the much-nurtured blogchild of the lovely ladies, Ilva and Joanna – whereby bloggers all over the world come up with heart-healthy dishes to share. Last month, my co-host Joanna had a great round up you can find here or here, and thanks to all of you, I now have plenty of fabulous soup recipes to get me through the rest of the gray Oregon winter.

Even more importantly, this is February, and if you’re in the USA, this is the month the National Heart, Blood and Lung Institute has dedicated as American Heart Month. February 1st, coming up fast (ahem, tomorrow!), is also National Wear Red Day – to promote awareness that heart disease is the leading killer of women in the United States. Regardless of where you are though, this disease kills and it’s a disease that is mostly preventable!! Which is the whole reason why we started this monthly event. This post that I did last year was what first started our conversations about starting the HotM, and next month, we’ll be celebrating the ONE YEAR anniversary of the HotM blog. Can you believe it? It’s very exciting what bloggers can do when they get together, and now we’ve all created a great archive of recipes from all over the world that are heart healthy and delicious!

This brings me to our current theme - for this month, we decided on a theme of Stews and Casseroles. Now, if you’re like me, you grew up where there wasn’t much distinction between a “soup” and a “stew.” Wikipedia, in fact, had a similar idea...

The distinctions between stew, soup, and casserole are fine ones. The ingredients of a stew may be cut into larger pieces than a those of a soup and retain more of their individual flavours; a stew may have thicker liquid than a soup, and more liquid than a casserole; a stew is more likely to be eaten as a main course than as a starter, unlike soup; and a stew can be cooked on either the stove top (or range) or in the oven, while casseroles are almost always cooked in the oven, and soups are almost always cooked on the stovetop. There are exceptions; for example, an oyster stew is thin bodied, more like a soup.

A casserole in our house, however, was an entirely different matter. Casseroles were eaten with a fork and sometimes even a knife, and almost always cooked or at least finished in the oven. But some stews are heavy and hearty and cooked in the oven too - and sometimes served over mashed potatoes or couscous or some other goodness that will sop up all that yummy, thick sauce. So, however you might personally distinguish between a soup and a stew or a casserole, make it, bake it, or interpret it with all the creativity (and health-minded ingenuity) you can muster and send us your recipes for a heart-healthy stew or casserole. You could even surprise your Love for Valentine’s Day on February 14th with this heart healthy dish (if you do, send us the story!) – for what better a gift than protecting their heart?

If you’ve participated before, you already know the basics. If you haven’t, check here, here and here for ideas on what “heart-healthy” means, and we hope that you’ll join us! Again, we ask that this please be a single event entry (please don’t use your post for other events – that way we can keep things centered on healthy heart awareness). Just send me your entry at mphilli4 AT uoregon DOT edu by February 24, linking to my site, The Accidental Scientist (and to the HotM blog if you’d like) and I’ll post the round-up a few days later on both sites. Happy Cooking!

Hands-on Cooking

Eyes may be considered the windows to the soul, but a person’s hands speak volumes about them. As much as our fingerprints are unique, our hands have their own stories to tell. A baby’s fingers are fat and new, having not yet experienced much of the world. And then there are the hands of a grandparent: darkened liver spots, wrinkly knuckles that maintain their shape long after the skin has been moved around, and the hard work they have done and wisdom they have gained is easily recognized in the flesh surrounding long fingers and bones that have withstood so many years gone by. I remember my grandmother’s finger had swollen up around her engagement ring, making permanent creases in the flesh that bespoke the 63 years that she and my grandfather celebrated of their marriage before she passed away. And as my other grandmother fights the Parkinson’s disease that is slowly changing both her mind and her body, her fingers grow thinner, scars record the falls she takes much more frequently, and she now must wear her wedding ring on her middle finger.


When I lived in Monterey, California for two years, I was an avid attendee of the year-round farmer’s market on Tuesdays. There was a man there, surely in his 70s, who put up a folding table every week and sold beautiful, earth-covered mushrooms. His hands were gnarled, his knuckles swollen and fingers shortened from years of digging through the dirt to pick the small crop of mushrooms he grew on the land, and noble trade, he had inherited from his family. After picking out the basket I wanted, he would load them into a small paper lunch sack, set the sack down, then grasp my small hands in his large ones, look into my eyes and say, “Thank you, miss.” I bought mushrooms every week, even if I still had a bag left over from the previous one (and not just because he called me “miss,” which I also loved).

It’s easy to see evidence of the hard, physical labor of the Crush on the hands of the Winemaker I work with. During the most intense period of the Crush, the grape juice stains on your hands can no longer be washed out, and the acidity of the juice begins to dry out and crack your skin. When I asked him about his hands once, he smiled and called them “alligator hands,” but to me, they looked like the hands of someone who works hard, loves what he does, and has spent so much time touching the grapes and the grape must, doing the physical labor of the work, and putting a bit of himself into making good wine that it had left deep stains on the creases of his hands. During my time there, my own fingers began to develop purple stains in some of the creases of the knuckles, and it gave me a deep sense of satisfaction and gratification– the kind that can only be gained through accomplishing hard work. In this part of the wine industry, there is even a “purple hand award” – an acknowledgment that you made it through that most grueling period of harvest and have become part of a far-ranging team that understands just how much physical labor, long hours and care goes into making a glass of wine.


LB once made a comment about how he wasn’t sure he wanted to buy food from someone that had stains on their hands. I disagreed and immediately brought him to the farmer’s market - to the booths where just that morning, farmers had been digging in the ground, pulling up the super-sweet carrots – small particles of dirt still clinging to the skin of both vegetable and farmer. Farmers selling raspberries had juice stains on their palms and evidence of the prickly stems of the berries etched into the backs of their tanned hands. Every hand told the story of both the farmer and the food they were selling. None of the fruits or vegetables had been touched by cold, mechanized steel; only hands, loving and caring enough to make providing sustenance to others a profession, had ever touched them. After that, LB changed his mind and now actively seeks out farmers with hands that have stories to tell.

(That's an Oregon black truffle in his hands...)

Our hands are also a big part of how we cook. Touching food brings a certain sense of intimacy with it, just as touching the hands of another human does. Lovers intertwine fingers as a forthright show of affection and a gentle brushing of hands or fingers, one could not quite be construed as a mistake, often portrays a budding interest. More than just the wielding of a knife or spoon, when you touch the food you’re preparing, you transfer some part of yourself and your intuition into the dish. I heard a quote recently about how food that is only touched by machines is “emotionally sterile,” and I have to agree.

Cooking is done as much by emotion and four other senses as it is by taste. Plunging your finger into the flesh of a rare steak will tell you as much about its texture as it does the flesh between your thumb and forefinger. Good bread requires an understanding of the dough and kneading slowly transforms it from lumpy and incongruent to smooth and elastic. Marinades don’t seep as deeply into food when simply sprinkled above it as they are when they are rubbed into all the nooks and crannies. A good avocado can only be identified by a gentle squeeze, recognizing the right amount of give in the tender flesh of the fruit (but never, ever squeeze a tomato!). And if you make something with love, I think it shows - even if it doesn't come out perfectly.

As I've said before, cooking is one way I show people that I care about them, appreciate them or want to make them happy, and I never cook a meal without touching some part of my food...of course there is the chopping of vegetables by hand, but also tossing dressings into the leaves of salads, rubbing butter or olive oil into the skin of a chicken that will be roasted to crispy perfection (unless you have issues like I do with roasted chicken), forming tender patties of homemade sausage, grabbing handfuls or pinches of salt for pasta water, or sprinkling spices over a dish. I like to think that the people that I cook for can taste the love and work I put into each dish, whether they are friends or family or house guests. But even if they can’t or don’t, when I wash my hands for the final time, I get that deep sense of satisfaction that I made something for them with my bare hands – from picking out the ingredients, to transforming them into something delicious (well, one hopes), and finally, presenting it to them. And I hope that intuitively, if not consciously, they can read the story my hands are telling them.

Grandmas are Cool.

One of my goals in Life is to become a Very Cool Grandmother. Because Grandmas, in general, are awesome. I have memories as a child going over to Grandma Mary’s house and immediately heading for the large, stand-up freezer in her entryway...where I knew there was a Lifetime Supply of ice-cream sandwiches. And at Grandma’s house, you were allowed to eat whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted.

At my Grandma Evelyn’s house, every Sunday morning was filled with fluffy homemade biscuits, thick, incredibly rich gravy and piles of bacon that crumbled in your mouth with a satisfyingly resounding crunch. Better still, everyone at the breakfast table knew my love of bacon and graciously offered me any of the extra slices at the end of the meal. Ah, it was a budding food-loving child’s heaven. My mother has already informed me that when I finally make her a grandmother, and she says this with a loud sigh, rolling her eyes and exasperation in her voice, she is going to completely spoil my children. Great, so while I'm trying to get my kids to eat fresh figs, artichokes and steamed kale, she's going to be giving them slurpees from the local Dairy Queen. Grandmothers, she figures, have earned the right. Touché, mom, touché.

LB’s grandmother, Mimi, is Italian. Mimi has what I, as someone who has not yet made the trek across the pond to Italy, might consider as having Quintessential Italian Characteristics (or at least characteristics that I might imagine an Italian grandmother having). Namely, when you walk into her house you are immediately offered food: crispy bacon (my favorite), scrambled eggs, panettone, eggplant Parmesan, pancetta, fresh cheese...the list goes on and on.

Mimi and LB

I love visiting Mimi. This Christmas, we had Mimi show us how to cook some of her favorite recipes so that we could learn them and so that they would be passed on in the family. It was a day filled with laughter and love: our hands dug deep into bowls of flour, we sprinkled breadcrumbs, ate marinated olives, cured meats and mozzarella, we imbibed glasses of Italian wine (for it was surely noon somewhere in the world), and by the end of the day, our bellies were filled with lots of good, home-cooked Italian food.

We let Mimi decide the recipes she would like to pass on – LB had told her he would like to make something that might be lost if she didn’t pass it on herself. She decided to share one of her favorite recipes, Eggplant Parmesan, and one that her father had taught her and would make whenever company came over: "Company Meatloaf." To be honest, at first I was slightly disappointed at the thought of making meat loaf (the original decision was to make homemade gnocci). And, as I’ve professed here before, meatloaf is not one of my favorite dishes to eat. In fact, it’s difficult for me to get all the way down to my stomach sometimes. And even more difficult for me to keep it down there. But, we were grateful that she was taking us in to show us a family recipe, and being the newbie in the family, there was NO WAY I was going to say one word about not liking meatloaf.

My own biases aside, the meatloaf got rave reviews from the table. And for meatloaf, it was definitely the best meatloaf I’ve had – not that I’ve had much, nor do I intend on having much in the future. But I ate every bite (of course I did - you don't mess with Italian grandmothers!) and the proscuitto and mozzarella make for a tender, moist and delicious combination. For those of you that DO enjoy a meatloaf on occasion, you should certainly try it like this. Just the act of making it is a pure joy, especially when you’re making it alongside a little Italian grandmother.

First, whip up a batch of your favorite meatloaf (if you're into that sorf of thing). Try Nicole's - because it's actually a meatloaf that I would most definitely eat (yes, even me) and that I'd consider making again (although I haven't...I have to face the truth, meatloaf is just not one of my favorite dishes). Mimi makes hers with 1 lb of ground beef and 1/2 lb of ground pork for moisture.

Dump out your pile of meatloaf mix onto some wax paper and pat it out into the shape of a rectangle until it is very thin - about 1/2 inch thin. Then, layer paper thin slices of proscuitto on top.
Follow that with a hefty sprinkling of mozzarella cheese - finely shredded or grated. Don't buy the previously shredded stuff, because you're going to need slices of it for the top too...


Roll it up like you would a jelly roll, starting at one end, until you have a roll o' meat, as opposed to your usual loaf o' meat. Put it on a cookie sheet, and bake at 350F for about 40 minutes. Remove it from the oven, and layer thin slices of mozzarella across the top of the roll (Mimi cuts them into rectangles or squares, then halved them diagonally to make pretty little cheese triangles). Put it back in the oven for 15 minutes, or until the meat is done in the center, but the ends aren't yet dry, and the cheese has melted and gotten bubbly (you'll have to keep an eye it and determine the times that are best for your oven ...Mimi has this down pat for her own oven, but better safe than sorry). Sorry there's no finished picture - meatloaf just isn't the most photogenic of foods, and besides, I was busy eating Eggplant Parmesan (oh yeah, and meatloaf too).

So there you have it - meatloaf fit even for company. Meatloaf that can bring together little Italian grandmothers and non-meatloaf eaters alike, and make them both happy. Besides, the way I figure it, every Cool Grandma should know how to make at least one good meatloaf...just in case someone that loves meatloaf happens to come over.

Slow Roasted Sundays

Weekends are the days I look forward to cooking the most. There is that one element that is often missing during the hustle-bustle of the other days: Time. Sundays are, by far, my favorite days for cooking and baking. Saturdays are often filled with adventures – whether it’s shopping, time with friends, skiing or traveling, you can do almost anything you want to on a Saturday and not have to worry about staying up late or not getting it all done because you will always have Sunday, just around the corner. Sunday is usually the day to clean the house (well, maybe every other Sunday, or sometimes every other other Sunday, but who’s counting?), relax, simmer a homemade chicken stock, bake a batch of English Muffin Batter Bread, cook something that takes lots of attention, hours of marinating or has multiple, time-consuming steps (remember, this = fun!).

Lasagna is one of those multiple-step time-consuming dishes. While simple to assemble, and comforting enough to warm even the most cold-stricken of bodies (and hearts!), all of the cooking and layering added to the long baking time make it a dish that doesn’t grace our table very often. But I love that kind of hearty, homey type of dish with all of my heart. For me, it evokes visions of a rustic hearth (oh how I wish I had a rustic hearth...), well-used pots and pans, and a crackling fire. Besides, this type of food is preferably enjoyed while surrounded by good company and with an earthy glass of wine in hand - and what could be better than that?

This recipe was inspired by an email advertisement that came in my inbox last week, but I didn’t use the recipe – this dish came together on its own. I’m finding that I’m becoming much more at ease without a recipe these days. That's not to say that I'm a better cook necessarily, just that I don't feel the need to follow someone else's directions anymore. Even if it doesn't come out quite right, then I can decide what to change next time...a little more of this, a little less of that, maybe some other ingredient added... I still use recipes for ideas and inspiration, and in baking I’ll often stick to precise measurements of flour or butter while taking more liberty to lighten things up, add more spices or change some of the flavoring ingredients, but savory dishes are now totally open to interpretation.

There is also no ricotta mixture in this lasagna recipe – I wanted it simple and easy and I actually liked it without the added heaviness (or richness) of the ricotta...there was something about the cinnamon in the sauce and the eggplant that went so well together that I didn’t think it wasn’t needed, but it could certainly be added if you wanted a thicker, richer lasagna. You could also do more layers if you wanted a thicker lasagna - just follow your intuition and what makes you happy. The tomato sauce, should have find yourself with leftovers for any reason (maybe you made a double batch, perhaps?) would be a great dipping marinara for breadsticks, or even good on pasta with some added vegetables, or even surrounding and nestling meatballs (maybe cut down the cinnamon just a touch - it goes best with veggies in my opinion). Everything can be assembled ahead of time and kept in the fridge until you're ready to bake it. I even did the first bake, let it sit out on the counter under foil while I went to an early movie, then baked it the rest of the way when we got home. It also develops even more flavor the second day, so it makes great leftovers.


Roasted Eggplant Lasagna with Fire-Roasted Tomato Sauce,
serves 6

Lasagna:
1 large, firm eggplant, slice thinly into ¼ inch slices
salt and pepper, to taste
lasagna noodles – I used 6 sheets of Barilla homemade-style no boil lasagna noodles
1 ½ cups of part-skim mozzarella cheese
½ cup dried breadcrumbs
fire-roasted tomato sauce (see recipe below)

Fire-Roasted Tomato Sauce (makes just enough for this recipe):
1 ½ tsp. olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, finely diced
2 cans fire-roasted crushed or diced tomatoes
½ tsp. oregano
½ tsp. basil
¼ tsp. cinnamon
dash of red pepper flakes

Salt the eggplant in a colander, and leave it for 30 minutes. Rinse thoroughly and pat dry between two tea towels or paper towels. Preheat your oven to 400F. Cover two cookie sheets with foil and spray down with olive oil or cooking spray (we have a Misto). Lay slices of eggplant on the cookie sheets in a single layer and spray the tops with olive oil. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast in the oven until they begin to turn light brown and become soft – about 30 - 40 minutes.

Meanwhile, make the tomato sauce: Heat the olive oil in a medium saucepan, until hot but not smoking. Sauté the onion until it is translucent, then add the garlic and cook for another minute. Feel free to add a splash of wine here if you’ve got an open bottle). Add the two cans of fire-roasted tomatoes and the herbs and cinnamon if you are using dried herbs (wait until the end to add the herbs if you want to use fresh). Bring to a simmer and simmer for 10 minutes or until slightly thickened. Using an immersion blender or regular blender (just let it cool!), puree the sauce until it is smooth and thick. Now would also be the time to cook your lasagna noodles to al dente if you are not using the “no boil” variety.

Reduce the oven temperature to 350F. In an 8x8 ceramic or glass baking dish, add a few spoonfuls of sauce to the bottom of the dish. Layer on two pasta sheets (or enough noodles to cover), a layer of over-lapped eggplant slices, a good sprinkling of breadcrumbs, and a layer of mozzarella cheese. Add another layer of sauce (a little thicker now), noodles, eggplant, breadcrumbs and cheese. Add one more layer of sauce, a layer of noodles, the rest of the sauce and top off the dish with a good sprinkling of cheese. Cover tightly with foil and bake for 40 minutes or until cheese is hot and bubbly. Remove the foil, then bake for another 25-30 minutes until the cheese begins to brown on top.

Meyer Lemon Season: A Winter Sanity Saver

In my humble opinion, I think that winter - especially dark, gray, gloomy ones - should be divided into multiple seasons based on the fruits and vegetables that are at their peak. Wouldn't this make the months go by faster, always having something delicious to look forward to? Some suggestions might be: Succulent Satsuma Mandarin Season, Greatest Grapefruit Season, Sweetest Broccoli Season and there should definitely be a Meyer Lemon Season.

I’ve already gushed on this blog about how much I love Meyer lemons and the foods made from them: Meyer Lemon Layer Cake, Meyer Lemon and Vanilla Bean Marmalade, even a simple salad dressing of Meyer lemon juice and olive oil somehow brings the dish from humble to exquisite. These tangy, orangey, almost-but-not-quite sweet little beauties are something that I look forward to every year, relying on their Spring-like flavor to get me through the winter. Somehow, the contrast of that bright, golden yellow peel (somehow brighter and more orange than the pale skins of normal lemons) against the gray backdrop of rainy Oregon weather makes it bearable to stay inside so much.

While I was in Colorado for Christmas (a place blessed with winters full of sunshine as well as snow), my family roamed around the desert tasting the wines of the region and I found myself falling into my usual wine-tasting trap. It’s the same story every year: we start drinking and the competition begins...it’s me, and my pocketbook, against the Marketing Guru who first decided to line up gourmet food items along the shelves of various wineries. Unfortunately for me, he or she always wins and I come home with a few jars of something yummy-sounding (It must be the alcohol?! Damn!).

This year I came home with a Meyer Lemon Spread and a jar of Caribbean Rum Caramel Sauce. The caramel will top a bread pudding later on or perhaps go into a batch of ice cream with candied pecans. The Meyer lemon spread ended up in some Coconut-topped Meyer Lemon Bars this weekend. The bars got rave reviews from the male football-watching contingent taking over my couches last Sunday (oh, there's nothing like feeding a bunch of hungry men who have been busy watching football all afternoon and are more than happy to be offered any kind of snack - a great ego booster). However, the spread was a bit sweet for my tastes – I like my lemon bars a little more tart and tangy. Next time, I’ll be using the Meyer lemon curd that is already in my repertoire, and I can already imagine that sunshiny yellow curd (the spread had only a pale yellow color) sandwiched between soft, sugar cookie-like crust and crumbly coconut-scented topping washing the winter away.


Coconut-topped Meyer Lemon Bars, makes 16 bars
inspired from a little recipe attached to the spread

**I made these with whole-wheat pastry flour, just because I could, and while you can certainly use all-purpose flour, the taste of these little bars was not compromised – so, why not? The recipe is an amalgam of a few recipes for lemon bars, modified for my tastes and to boost the flavor of them. As always, use the most high-quality ingredients you can afford, and you’ll be rewarded with high-quality taste.

½ cup powdered sugar
10 tbsp cold unsalted sweet cream butter, cut into cubes
1 ½ cups whole-wheat pastry flour
1 tsp. Meyer lemon zest
pinch of salt

6 oz. Meyer lemon curd (recipe here)
**Remember, leftovers of lemon curd are never a bad thing! Try these.

1 cup grated coconut (with the tang of the curd, use sweetened or add a little sugar to the mix )
3 tbsp. cold unsalted sweet cream butter, cut into cubes
1 ½ tsp. good vanilla extract
2 tbsp. whole-wheat pastry flour

Preheat your oven to 325F. Cover the bottom and sides of an 8” square pan with parchment paper. Combine the sugar, butter, zest, flour and salt in a food processor and pulse until it resembles a fine meal. Dump the meal into the prepared pan and press it down with your fingers along the bottom of the pan to form the crust. Bake for 30 minutes or until a light golden brown. Let cool.

Reduce the oven temperature to 300F. Spread Meyer lemon curd evenly on the on the crust. Combine coconut, remaining butter and vanilla extract in the food processor (no need to clean it) and pulse several times. Then add the 2 tbsp flour and pulse a few more times until it becomes crumbly. Sprinkle this on top of the meyer lemon curd, then bake the bars for 20 minutes. Let cool, remove by lifting the parchment paper, then cut into 16 squares.