37 things i know to be true...

let’s start with an apology (i am, after all, terribly good at them).  there is no recipe here, my sweet four readers.  no hastily-shot pictures of food, both in prep and completion. no anecdotal asides, no references to sous chefs real or imagined…  life has been a whirlwind of plans and visitors and emergency rooms and insert-countless-other-excuses-here. but i’ve been thinking about you.  actually, i’ve been thinking about a lot of things recently…  things i’ve learned, things i’ve discovered, things i believe in.  37 things in my 37 years. maybe you’ll agree with some of them, maybe you won’t. every person has their own list, this one is mine:

1) there are never enough hours in the day.  there will always be more laundry to do, more homework to help with, more hungry people to feed…  you can’t do it all, and that’s okay. let it go.

2) stop singing that song.  stop it.  i thank you.  the universe thanks you.

3) blood is not thicker than water.  sometimes the most important people in your life might be the ones you’re related to, but sometimes they are the amazing ones that fate finds for you along the way.  "family" means more than just a common chromosome.  don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

4) always hold the door open for others, always follow a sneeze with a bless you, and always be a courteous driver. silently curse under breath in passive-aggressive manner when others refuse to do the same.

5) everything happens for a reason. 

6) at least once in your life, bake your own bread, make your own pasta, grow your own vegetables.  it’s fun to get your hands dirty.

7) wash your hands.  

8) surround yourself with good people who build you up, support you, and like you just as you are.  life’s too short to waste time with those who break you down.

9) life’s also too short for holding onto bad memories.  remember the good ones, let go of the bad. 

10) life’s too short…

11) invest in a rice cooker.  it will save your sanity, and is way cheaper than therapy.

12) spend time with your best friends.  it heals your soul, and is also cheaper than therapy.

13) be thoughtful.  be considerate.  try to be the person, the mother, the wife, the friend you want to be.  and don’t beat yourself up if you don’t succeed at this every day.

14) also don’t beat yourself up if you go 2 months between bloggy posts…  see #1.  let it go.

15) seriously, stop singing that song.  

16) when things feel insurmountable, if all else fails, breathe.  deeply and slowly.  relax.

17) if THAT fails, pour yourself a glass of wine.  (but keep on with the breathing.)

18) love your children even if they’re being jerks.  they won’t always be jerks.  and you will always love them.  (this also applies to pets.  and sometimes husbands.)

19) (just joshing, dear…)

20) only enter into a relationship with someone who gets your sense of humour.  laughter is the best, and most necessary medicine.  and is also cheaper than couples therapy.

21) laugh.  often.  sometimes until your cheeks hurt from it. (see #12 if you need help with this.)  

22) everyone makes mistakes along the way.  the important people in your life will forgive you for them.  anyone who doesn’t clearly does not deserve that designation.

23) auto correct will both drive you crazy and provide endless hours of amusement.  and will apparently never learn that “ducking” is not what i’m trying to type.

24) swear.  often.  it’s cathartic.  and, more importantly, fun.

25) a man-cold is a true, scary, and real threat to our civilization.  (also, see #20)

26) be kind. 

27) don’t be afraid of cooking with butter.  be very, very afraid of margarine.  (but possibly stay away from the deep-fried butter stall at the fair.)

28) stay away from the fair.  period.  especially anything to do with clowns. 

29) do not, upon pain of death, read stephen king’s “it” at age 12.  it WILL scar you forever.

30) cook something naked, just for the hell of it.  (preferably nothing that splatters.)

31) challenge yourself.  mind…  body…  both need exercise.

32) read the recipe all the way through before you start cooking.  every.  time.

33) listen to your own advice (see #32 & 34).

34) believe in yourself.

35) keep your old pictures, and keep taking new ones.  happy memories are a powerful elixir.   

36) eat your greens.  make them delicious, and eat them often.

37) try to be happy.  (making lists can sometimes help with this…)

labour of love

despite being a tremendously loving person, sentimental and affectionate to the point of irritating my friends (just ask them), i don’t terribly much care for valentine’s day.  love IS all we need, yes.  but what we don’t need is an uninspired three-course prix fixe meal, or an overpriced bunch of flowers, just because society tells us we must.  to me, a sweet thought or token of affection means so much more on the other 364 days of the year.  a card for no reason just to brighten up your mailbox?  fab.  some fancy bling to celebrate national drink a martini day (june 19^th, in case anyone’s wondering)?  done.

at the end of the day, we all show our love in different ways.  when i was 16, it was through mixed tapes.  (there’s fleetwood mac on that bad boy, by the way…)  

(my kids wouldn't even know what this is)

yes, i am a consummate over-hugger.  and yes, we have already discussed my penchant for sloppy-yet-earnest drunken declarations of affection.  but truly, the way i mostly show people i love them is through food.  last weekend, for a mid-february-nothing-to-do-with-the-v-word-feast, i attempted stuffed pasta for the first time: ravioli with handmade ricotta and preserved lemon, and agnolotti dal plin.  truly a labour of love, i worked about 6 hours from start to finish on those faffy bad boys.  but with every crank of the pasta roller, every stir of the filling, every press of the ravioli cutter, i was saying “i love you.”  (or possibly “god, i’m hungry.”  both apply.)  just as 16 year-old jo did with mixed tapes, 37 year-old jo does with a meal that quite potentially took days to prep.  the food (like the music) might not be perfect, but it comes from the heart.  it is made with love.  and it says that i like you... just as you are.

Ravioli with Homemade Ricotta and Preserved Lemon

first, you want to make up a batch of pasta dough.  (here’s the recipe i use, along with rolling instructions, from a terribly old previous bloggy post…)

1 cup ricotta (store bought would work in a pinch, but i use smitten kitchen’s homemade version, which is easy (easier) than pie and SO much better)

1 tbsp preserved lemon, finely chopped

½ cup grated parmesan (pecorino would work just as well)

salt to taste

butter

handful of fresh mint, torn or chopped into small pieces

freshly-grated parmesan for sprinkling

mix first 4 ingredients together, set aside.

after you’ve rolled your pasta sheets out to the thinnest setting, cut the sheets into sections around 7-8” long.  (remember to only roll ¼ of the pasta out at a time, keeping the other sections tightly wrapped so they don’t dry out.)  lay sheets on a lightly-floured surface. 

place 1 tablespoon of filling about one third of the way up the strip, like so.

fold pasta over and mold over the filling, carefully pushing out any air bubbles as you go.

 use a fluted cutter to press out ravioli.  (i used a 3" one.)

cook in salted boiling water for 3-4 minutes.

honestly, these would go with a number of different sauces beautifully.  i tossed them with some melted butter, scattered the fresh mint on top, then dusted with a little freshly grated parmesan and a few grinds of pepper. 

Agnolotti Dal Plin (loosely adapted from thomas mcnaughton's "flour + water")

1/2lb ground wild boar (or you can just use pork, but boar is leaner and has a much greater depth of flavour)

olive oil

1 onion, finely chopped

splash of red wine

bunch of baby spinach, chopped

1 egg

¾ cup grated parmesan

¼ tsp sherry vinegar

1 tsp ground nutmeg

butter

2 cups sliced mushrooms of your choice (i used oyster and chanterelle)

handful of fresh sage leaves

freshly-grated parmesan for sprinkling

sauté meat over med-high heat until cooked through and slightly caramelised.  remove from pan.  sauté onion until also slightly caramelized, around 10 minutes.  add the splash of red wine, and cook until liquid has evaporated.  add spinach and cook 1 minute more.  remove vegetables to a bowl and let cool.

add boar to bowl of cooled veg, mix well.  add vinegar, egg, parmesan, nutmeg, and season with salt & pepper.  mix again.

now you can use up the rest of your pasta dough, which has been waiting oh-so patiently for you.  again, roll out to the thinnest setting, and lay sheets out on a lightly-floured surface.

place one tablespoon of the filling along the center of your pasta sheets, leaving around an inch or so between.  fold pasta over, leaving about a half-inch on the seal-side.

mold pasta over filling, pushing out air bubbles as you go.  use a fluted pastry cutter wheel to trim the sealed edge.

pinch between lumps of filling.

use pastry wheel to cut into individual agnolotti.

for the sauce, sauté mushrooms in butter until cooked through.  remove from pan and set aside.  melt more butter in the pan and add sage leaves.  let the leaves sizzle until they are slightly crisp.  add mushrooms back to the pan.

cook pasta in salted water for 3-4 minutes.  add to the pan and toss with sauce.  sprinkle with freshly-grated parmesan and a few grinds of black pepper.

eat with abandon.  feel the love.

a cup of kindness (for auld lang syne)

i don’t know about any of you sweet four people who are reading this, but i feel like i am finally starting to slowly crawl my way out of the daze of holiday over-eating (and yes, occasionally over-tippling).  team jo rocked the season like we were living in a richard curtis film; we donned our reindeer jumpers, we enjoyed the obligatory new year's curry buffet (more turkey curry, bridge?), we told the truth, because at christmas that's what you do. 

(to me, you were perfect... until you started killing zombies)

we ran through that holiday season like harry sprinting the streets of new york to find sally before that new year's ball dropped, enjoying every hang with friends, every dinner, every party along the way.  

but now, like a newborn foal (or perhaps hippopotamus), i feel like i’m tentatively emerging from the cave of over-indulgence, blinking ferociously into the bright sun of the new year, as if being faced by kim kardashian's internet-breaking shiny behind.  (my eyes!  they burn!)

my sweet sous chef holding the menorah up like hanukkah can't hold him

the holidays this year certainly held up their end of the deal.  there were turkeys and there were latkes.  there were dumpling feasts, southern feasts, ham feasts, and cheese feasts.  but most importantly there was family who are like friends, and friends who are like family.  you know, those wonderful people who top up not just your glass, but your soul.  the people who make you happy.  we ate, we drank, and by george we were merry!  

annnnd then it was over, just like that, and suddenly i found myself with an empty wallet and an expanded waistline.  now, i’m not one for crash diets, nor for fads, and certainly not for preaching, but if january can have just a titch more restraint if only to allow me to relive the fun next december, then i am all for it. 

soups, stews, braises, these are all dishes that wrap around you like a comfy old sweater, promising to warm you through body and soul, leaving you with the big time warm and fuzzies.  they also, within reason, tend to be more frugal options, as the long cooking time lends them well to affordable, yet exceedingly tasty cuts of meat.  hugh acheson, my dishy culinary crush, makes a soup from ham, black-eyed peas & mustard greens that i revisit every january.  hugh uses a ham hock, but i use the meaty ham bone that we are invariably left with after the holidays; something out of nothing.  (to make it even thriftier (and tastier), if you have any leftover stock made from a holiday turkey, use that in place of the chicken broth.  hugh, meanwhile, raises his single eyebrow in admiration of my thrifty pluck.)  the black-eyed peas give the soup a bit of heft, and the mustard greens, added towards the end of the cooking process, perk it up with some vegetal brightness.  a bowl of this goodness will make you feel a bit less guilty about the indulgent times behind you, and better about yourself for the month to come.  (and by gum, it’s damn tasty too.)

black-eyed pea, ham & mustard green soup (adapted from hugh acheson.  a dish from a dish)

2 tbsps butter

1 small sweet onion, minced

3 medium carrots, diced

2 celery stalks, diced

2 garlic cloves, chopped

1 cup dried black-eyed peas

8 cups chicken broth (or leftover turkey stock.  word)

1 meaty ham bone

1 tbsp chopped fresh thyme (optional: i’ve done it with and without, it’s honestly good both ways)

1 bunch (or, a whack) of mustard greens

1 teaspoon kosher salt

place your soup pot over medium heat and add the butter.  when melted, add your onion, carrot & celery.  cook gently for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. 

add garlic, black-eyed peas, stock and ham bone.  cook for roughly one hour, until peas are tender but not mushy.

remove ham bone from the pot and shred the meat from the bone.  add the meat back to the soup.

that's whack, yo

add the thyme (if using), mustard greens and salt to the pot.  cook for 10 minutes longer until the greens are tender.

serve, dig in, and feel healthy once again.  

so merry belated christmukkahnzaa, lovelies, and cheers to the new year.  here's to auld acquaintances and new, and sharing a cup of kindness together in the new year.  god bless us every four of you…

village people

for a long time, i think french onion soup was sadly maligned.  swept into the bin of outdated 80’s dinner party food, it moped in the corner with shrimp cocktail; it braided the hair of raspberry vinaigrette as she wept softly into her duran duran hankie; it held sun-dried tomato’s hand and told her not to blame herself.  but somewhere along the way, french onion soup magically managed to find redemption.  now less-outdated, and more considered a classic, french onion is suddenly the johnny depp of soups: it somehow managed to not change a jot in 30 years, and damn it still looks tasty.  

having a batch of homemade soup in the fridge is a must for me in these chilly, blustery months.  whether it’s for a quick lunch or an easy supper, there’s not a more warming winter meal to be found, for both soul and body.  and personally speaking, there isn’t much i enjoy more than being able to bring healing food to a sick pal, a hardworking matey, or just a friend in need (or a friend indeed).  for generations we had whole villages (literally) of people helping us in raising our kids, in living our lives, in any of our times of need.  these days too many of us find ourselves on an island.  and i truly believe johnny depp--  i mean, john donne, was right: no man is an island!  dammit, i’m bringing the village back.  so who wants some french onion soup?

 french onion soup (adapted from michael ruhlman’s “twenty”)

unlike most incarnations of this recipe, ruhlman insists that you not use stock for this soup, rather that the onions with their slow caramelization provide all the flavour you need.  thusly, this is an exceptionally thrifty soup.  (i’d say cheap, but i feel that undermines the recipe, as if i were likening it to lindsey lohan.  which, dear french onion soup, i would never do.  you're better than that.)  it’s classy rather than cheap, and entirely friendly to your wallet.  sure enough, the only thing this soup shall set you back is time, but even that is mostly unattended. 

2 tbs butter

6 large (or 8 medium) onions

salt & freshly-ground black pepper

1/3 cup sherry

splash of red wine vinegar

splash of red wine

to serve:

slices of baguette

grated gruyere

thinly slice the onions.  if you are like me, and have no CIA-trained knife skills (either the culinary institute OR the government agency), i implore you to use a mandolin.  they’re remarkably affordable, and truly save your sanity (much cheaper than therapy).  this pile of onions took about 3 minutes with the dear tool.  it’s a life-saver.

does anyone else hear the theme music to "close encounters" ...?

use a large pot as you have a LOT of sliced onions here.  enameled cast iron dutch oven works marvelously.  place the pot over medium heat and melt the butter.  add the onions, toss to coat with melted butter, and add 2 teaspoons of salt.  

it's not a small amount of onions...

cover and cook until the onions have softened and started to steam.   

getting there...

remove lid, reduce heat to low, and cook for (wait for it) 3-5 hours, stirring occasionally, until they have cooked down into a glorious tumbling amber mess of soft caramelized goodness.

boomba!

add 6-7 cups of water (depending on how thick you like the soup), raise heat to high until it reaches a simmer, then reduce back to low.  add the sherry, the vinegar and the wine.  season with salt and pepper as needed.

when you’re ready to serve, turn on your broiler, then place your baguette slices in your bowl of soup so they get nice and soft.  sprinkle some grated gruyere on top, then place your bowl in the oven until the cheese is bubbly and a little browned.  

mmmm...bubbly

so reacquaint yourselves with an old favourite.  drop some off to a member of your village, and keep some handy in your fridge for quick and easy meals throughout the week.  the village will thank you...