For a truly hype night, bring on the Onion Dip

New Year's Eve is one of those nights that is supposed to be a really big deal, full of champagne and fancy parties and being dressed up and fabulous.   Friends will make clever toasts, everyone in the ballroom will laugh a lot, and there is an off chance that your best friend will show up and propose.

In reality, I find it's a night that rarely lives up to the hype*. Restaurants jack up prices. Bars are slammed with desperately eager fun-seekers. The amateur drunks hit the roads. Hundreds of thousands of crazy people deliberately stand around freezing their collective asses off to watch the clock strike twelve with strangers.

I don't get it.

My kind of New Years Eve involves very little hype. I've had wonderful celebrations that ended at 9:30 pm so our toddlers could turn in, cozy nights at a local bistro with my husband, evenings with cracked crab and vintage wine in a friend's home, pajama parties with my cousin and my sister listening to Casey Kasem counting down the biggest hits of the year, and a memorable turn-of-the-millennium getaway where all but one of the guests came down with the plague at the same time. It was a like a bad British farce, with vomiting, and we still talk about it to this day with some degree of fondness.

Truly, you don't need a glittering disco ball falling from the sky or a big band in tuxedos to usher in the new year. Just grab your friends, open a good bottle of booze, share a great meal, then curl up on the couch or play a rousing game of Celebrity. Toast each other, reflect a bit, vow to be better, and kiss someone you love as the night grows quiet.

Of course, if you still need it to feel like a big, hyped up party, kick the evening off with a bowl of chips and this killer onion dip.

All the truly hype parties come with onion dip.

Tomato How To's

How to grow tomatoes:

Buy them*.
Plant them.

Ignore them.

Harvest them by the bushel.

Done it twice now.  So I'm kind of an authority.

Note:  Does not work for any other living thing.  Especially basil plants and those cute little flower pots from Trader Joe's.  For them, Sharon = Death.

How to eat tomatoes:

Straight up is good.  Really good.

Or, you can make the big ones into tomato jam.

Recipe from Fine Cooking, modified not at all.

The jam is fresh and sweet and tart, a little spicy, and perfectly tomato-y.  Don't be tempted to add onions or garlic or herbs or fancy vinegar.  Let it be, and it'll taste exactly like summer. Amazing on burgers.  Like, ridiculous.  

You might attempt Gazpacho.  I did.

This recipe, a riff on one from Alton Brown, needs more work.  The flavors were spot on, but the texture was a little too much like salsa.  I should have followed along with this great video, from Judy of Two Broads Abroad, or tried making this recipe from Serious Eats.  Next summer!

With full confidence, I can recommend that you make the baby ones into warm tomato vinaigrette.

Tangy, bright and wonderful, I made this last year and it's now in permanent rotation.  The very simple recipe is over at Bon Appetit. Ladle it over roasted potatoes, grilled fish, a steak, or a frittata at breakfast.  Or be like me and slather it on top of fresh focaccia bread.

I insist you try this salad/salsa number with feta cheese and mint. (Recipe follows)

Despite the onset of September, there's no sign of summer slowing down around here. Instead, it seems to be getting hotter, if such a thing is possible. That means there are still a few juicy, ripe tomatoes to be had**.

Find them.
Eat them.
Enjoy!


Don't forget, you can always check out the Recipe Box for even more tomato ideas.

This should be a real post

But it's not. Instead, it's my contribution to That should be a word*

I did manage to push this recipe for Meyer Lemon Buttermilk Pie through at last. After all, nothing gets the system going again like a good pie recipe, right?**

Especially one where I don't have to say much.
Bon Appetit wrote about it first.***

New to Coffee

Before:



After:

Let's just say that having coffee worked out way better for our steak than it did for Will Farrell*.

I put an extra pluot on the barbie for you

And some pound cake, too.
Let's just say it was a very good day, mate.

I totally remember watching this on TV, partially because everyone kind of wants to go to Australia and see koalas, but mostly because we couldn't skip the commercials.  I mention this to the kids --- minds BLOWN!

Little Summer Fruit Cakes

There are winter fruitcakes, and there are summer fruit cakes.  Hands down, the summer ones are way better*.

And little vanilla, lemon and almond-laced summer fruit cakes are the best of all.

Tomatomania makes even me look good

I am such a crappy gardener that last year I actually paid a farmer to grow vegetables in my own back yard for me.

My farmer's name was Anthony, and he was awesome.  I had beautifully tended raised beds of exotic produce, and bumper crops of squash and eggplant.  I also had a husband who informed me that I needed to stop hanging out with my girlfriends who were doing things like hiring farmers.  

So this year, I was on my own.  

Consequently, my carefully selected* baby heirlooms from the good people at Tomatomania, planted lovingly back in April in neat rows and tied up with string, are now a massive jungle of crazy ass tangled up tomato plants.  Plus, there's a scraggly patch of sage and some sad, leggy basil bushes with holes in all the leaves, probably from some kind of icky bug.  Anthony would know, but I'm not allowed to call him anymore**.

Amazingly, the tomatoes are thriving under my policy of complete and utter neglect, and the thicket is spewing out fruit like there's no tomorrow.

I can't take any credit for the crop, but I will take credit for all the delicious food we've been having as a result***.

Heirloom Tomato Pie

Carpool Wars - Battle: Braise!

When I took my pro chef class, I learned the following:

Braising is a cooking technique, seen often in French cuisine, combining moist and dry heat. It uses heat, time, and moisture to break down the tough connective tissue, collagen, in meat, making it an ideal way to cook tougher cuts. Most often the meat is quickly dry seared in a hot pan, then transferred to a pot with liquids to cook, long and slowly, until the meat is utterly and completely delicious.

Carpool Wars - Battle: Braise! 
A long-simmering summary.

It turns out that I have been braising this post*.

Back in December 2012 (!), the carpool moms had another knock-down, all-out, no-holds-barred, gourmet dinner throw-down.  We raised the stakes by adding a new category, Best Wine Pairing.  We required complementary side dishes.

We braised our butts off.

That memorable evening, meat was falling off of bones all over the place.  Rich, long-simmered sauces were ladled over risotto and silky smooth potatoes and creamy, cheesy polenta.  In the midst of all the heartiness, a gorgeous green salad appeared**.

Then much incredible wine was consumed, and I kind of lost track of the details.  But there was definitely a warm apple tart with cinnamon ice cream in there somewhere.

The contenders:

 Christy F's Asian Style Beef Short Ribs, with Melted Leeks and Creamy Mashed Potatoes.  Ginger, garlic, soy and scallions in the sauce, perfectly tender beef, and the barely caramelized leeks went perfectly with the luxurious spuds.  Wow.

Recipe here.

The short ribs were paired with a gorgeous vintage wine from the host's collection

 My Braised Lamb Shanks with Gremolata and Baked Polenta.  The lamb cooked for hours in tomatoes, onions, stock and wine, with a little fennel and rosemary.  Very tasty.  And the creamy polenta with a slightly toasted top crust was killer.  This was the cover recipe from the October issue of Bon Appetit, so this is actually a double theme post:  Carpool Wars and Cook My Mailbox!

Recipe here.

The lamb was paired with a Biale Petite Syrah, Royal Punishers, one of my all-time favorite wines***.  My friend had just given me this bottle, and I couldn't think of a better reason to crack it open.

Christy D.'s Veal Osso Buco with Saffron Risotto.  Can you say decadent?  I thought you could.  Her sauce was deeply flavored, with cloves, bay leaves, sage and thyme.  I loved this one.

Recipe here.

A Shiraz married with the veal.  They were quite well matched, if I do say so myself.

The judges ate, and drank, and considered.

In the end, our hostess' Short Ribs (justifiably) ruled!  My wine pairing received accolades, and Christy D's presentation once again impressed****.   As much as everyone loved Battle: Brunch and Battle: Taco, the consensus was that we'd outdone ourselves yet again.

But that might have been the wine talking.
And the apple tart.

Cook My Mailbox - Weekend V, Part II

French onion soup, to me, is one of those dishes that you can judge a restaurant by.  Is the broth the right combination of rich and clean?  Are the onions meltingly soft and sweet, but not disintegrated? Most of all, is that layer of broiled cheese and toasted bread so delicious when spooned up with the soup that you want to weep tears of gratitude?

I have had many, many bowls of disappointing onion soup*, and three that were truly memorable.  The classic French version from La Bonne Soupe, one of my favorite spots in NYC, is awesome, and I still go back for it any chance I get.  I savored an impeccably done bowl one night at Daniel Bouloud's now closed Brasserie in the Wynn, Las Vegas, while swans floated by outside the window.  Finally, one rainy afternoon, years ago, on my own for a business trip,  I went down to the restaurant at the Charles Hotel in Cambridge and ordered the onion soup. Instead of the traditional version, theirs had apple cider in it, and a bubbling layer of sharp cheddar cheese on top.  It was so surprisingly great that the memory of it still haunts me to this day**.

I normally don't even bother making onion soup at home, because my husband can't stand the stuff***.  This weekend, though, I used the occasion of the blogger meeting soup theme to give it a shot****.  Partially I was drawn in by the moutwatering photo in "Onion Love" section of the Feb/March issue of Fine Cooking, but mostly I was trying to bring back that rainy afternoon in Cambridge.

I have to say, this came awfully close.

Cook My Mailbox - Weekend V - Part I

As I quoted Steve Martin a while back:  "I can do this act alone.  I often do."  Even when I've taken baby steps towards linking up with other bloggers, it's been totally virtual:  Everybody make tiramisu!  Send a dozen cookies UPS!  Right up my alley. But I've never actually met any other bloggers in real life, at least not intentionally*.  Sure, I'd enviously read posts from conferences and seminars and clubby trips to the Mexican Riviera with cocktails.  Lived vicariously on tours of wine country and retreats with notable luminaries from around the web.  I felt a pang when I saw the groaning tables of food from the community potlucks.  "Maybe, someday, not now of course"...I'd say to my cat, doing my best Steve Martin imitation**.  He'd twitch his tail, then leave me alone at the keyboard again.

But yesterday, that all changed.  It turns out that you can just...go!  And learn stuff***!  And eat really good food and everyone will be nice to you and invite you back the next time. Who knew?

Fine Cooking, that's who.  When I learned that the upcoming meeting of Los Angeles Food Bloggers had a "Soups and Stews" theme, this had just landed on my kitchen table:

If there ever was a time to cook my mailbox and brave a roomful of perfect strangers in the interest of blogger bonding, this was it.

 There really was a groaning table. Our gracious hostess was Kate, from Savour Fare.

 Vintage Cheese Straws, from Leslie of Bake This Cake

 Our hostess' Mushroom Soup with Parmesan 

 My Sausage & Fennel Chowder

 Crusty Oatmeal Bread, from one of the founders of the group, Erika, of In Erika's Kitchen

 Tomato Bisque with Bacon, from Stephen and Art of Latino Foodie

Sampling the Scottish Lentil and Farro Soup, by Christina of Christina's Cucina

I got lucky this time, but maybe everyone is not quite as warm and welcoming as the Los Angeles Food Bloggers.  I'd hate to have gone all the way to Mexico and been shunned, you know?

Baby steps.