eat your veggies




If you're like me, you are always on the lookout for new and exciting ways to serve vegetables. Perhaps you fancy yourself something of a French woman in training. Or maybe you identify as a whole foods enthusiast. Or a part-time vegan, for that matter. You may be a mom looking to pack nutrients into little kids' diets. Or a First Lady hoping to inspire a nation to eat well (with a hip-hop album!). Or maybe you just happen to believe, as I do, that vegetables are the answer to most problems in life.

Whatever the case may be, when it comes to greens, I'm guessing we can all agree that more is probably better. 

But finding ways to actually get the 7-10 servings a day that we're all encouraged to eat is another matter entirely. And so I am always pleased when I find a yummy veg recipe that works at any meal. 

Zucchini pancakes, friends, are just that. These delicious jack-of-all-trades are a hit at breakfast, as a side dish for eggs. They are magnificent eaten cold at lunch, with a simple beet or carrot salad. And they are equally lovely at dinner, warm with a dollop of sour cream and a crisp green salad. Zucchini fritters are great for picnics and potlucks and road trips, but I have to say that they are especially nice served at sunset summer suppers. As you place a platter of these veggie-packed bad boys on the table, feel free let your guests know that Mrs. Obama would approve. 

Zucchini Pancakes
Adapted from allrecipe.com
Makes 20 pancakes

2 cups of grated zucchini
2 large eggs, beaten
3 tablespoons of chopped green onions
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 punch of dried oregano
vegetable oil for frying

1. Grate zucchini and then press into a colander to squeeze out excess liquid. Dab with paper towels. The more moisture you get out, the crispier your pancakes will be.
2. Mix together the zucchini, eggs and green onions.
3. In a separate bowl, combine flour, cheese, baking powder, salt and oregano.
4. Heat oil in frying pan over medium-high heat. It is important to get the pan good and hot. Drop spoonfuls of batter into oil. Fry on each side until golden brown. Drain on paper towel and serve. 

salad days


One of the things that I love most about summer is that I suddenly feel like eating salad all the time. In the winter, I tend to look upon lettuce with disdain. But once the heat hits, it's all I want. This solves all kinds of problems, I can tell you. First of all, it's much easier to maintain your girlish figure if you are nibbling on leaves all the time. Second, it provides a definitive answer to the ongoing lunch dilemma. (What to eat? Argh.) And third, it gives you a creative project. And lord knows I love a creative project.

So here's what I do. On the weekends, I buy a ton of veggies. I don't worry about what I will do with them, only whether I actually feel like eating them or not. Asparagus, green beans, avocado, oh my! Then I buy greens: spring mix, baby kale, arugula, you name it. I tend to buy bags or boxes of pre-washed, since I'm lazy in the summer months, but if you have a salad spinner and some elbow grease to spare, buy full heads of lettuce and have at it. When dry, tear into bite-sized pieces, throw in a big bowl and cover with a clean dish towel. 

Next, I buy some good quality protein: farm-fresh eggs, top notch parmesan, thinly sliced pancetta. Anything that I know I'll look forward to seeing on my plate. And some fresh herbs never hurt: flat-leaf Italian parsley and green onions are my top picks. Nuts and seeds and sprouts are always fun too.

On Sunday, I do some simple prep work. I might chop some red peppers or roast some potatoes. And then, every day, I add a new element into the mix. I boil an ear of corn or bake chicken or slow-roast cherry tomatoes. 

The key to all of this, of course, is having salad dressing on hand. If you don't, chances are good that you won't get around to making a salad. But if you do, it's all as simple as throwing some greens in a bowl, adding fun toppings (well, hello there chick peas!) and drizzling the whole mess with dressing. 

This here is my standby. It's a strong mustard dressing, but I've found that if I add extra olive oil, it's milder and can be paired with all kinds of fun flavours. For inspiration, I often consult Bittman's New York Times list of 101 Summer Salads.

Everyday vinaigrette
Adapted from Molly Wizenberg's A Homemade Life

2 heaping tablespoons good quality mustard
1 tablespoon plus 2 teaspoons red wine vinegar
3-4 tablespoons olive oil, to taste
pinch of salt

1. Whisk together mustard and vinegar. 
2. Add oil and whisk well to emulsify.  
3. Keeps for up to a week in the fridge.

gimme that bread


Some people will find this hard to believe, but there are those of us who still eat bread. Regularly. And I am one of them. As far as I'm concerned, there's a reason that it has long been referred to as the staff of life – and that the ultimate expression of companionship and community is breaking bread. Bread is simple, fundamental, essential. There is nothing nicer, to my mind, that tearing off a corner of a fresh baguette and eating it slathered in butter. Or dipped in olive oil and sea salt. Or spread with apricot jam or topped with brie and slow-roasted tomatoes

I love sourdough and Tuscan peasant rounds and caraway rye and sprouted whole-grain loaves. I love avocado toast ala Gwyneth Paltrow ("like a favourite pair of jeans" indeed) and yolky, salty, fried-egg sandwiches ala my mum. With peameal bacon, if at all possible. I love thick slices spread with the pimento cheese that my Southern stepmom taught me how to make. Or turned into yummy bruschetta. 

Add to that, as Tamar Adler pointed out in An Everlasting Meal, there's a million lovely, homey uses for a loaf that's past its prime: breadcrumbs, croutons, garlicky crostini and even Italian bread salad or soup. 

All of this is why I will never give up eating bread, no matter how unfashionable it is. I am so committed to carbs, in fact, that I have started baking my own. I tend to favour the dense, whole wheat, seed-crusted, molasses-sweetened beauties of my hippie childhood. But I don't always have the get-up-and-go to tackle all that kneading.

So the below recipe is a good compromise. It's from Kathleen Flinn's wonderful book The Kitchen Counter Cooking School, adapted from master recipe in Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day. It gives you mouth-watering, hearty bread with almost no effort. That way, you can spend all your time and energy dreaming up delicious ways to serve it.

No-Knead Bread
Yields four one-pound loaves

3 cups lukewarm water
1 and 1/2 tablespoons yeast
1 tablespoon Kosher salt 
6 and 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
additional flour for dusting loaves
cornmeal

1. Combine the water, yeast and salt in a large mixing bowl. Stir to mix. Add all of the flour at once and mix with a wooden spoon until the dough is wet and sticky with no dry patches. Loosely cover with plastic wrap. Do not seal airtight. Let it rise 2 hours at room temperature. If not using immediately, refrigerate the dough, covered, for up to 2 weeks. 
2. To fashion a loaf, scoop a grapefruit-sized piece from the bowl of dough and dust it in flour. Rub with more flour and then gently stretch the top around to tuck the sides into the bottom to form a round, smooth loaf. Put on parchment paper, dusted with cornmeal so it won't stick. Let it rise, uncovered for 30-90 minutes. (And no longer, as I learned the hard way! Flat loaves = not cool.) The loaf will plump but not change radically in size.
3. 20 minutes before baking, preheat oven to 450F. Place pizza stone on middle rack. Place a deep baking tray on the bottom rack.
4. Dust the loaf liberally with more flour. Slash the top several times with a knife. Place the parchment paper and loaf on pizza stone in hot oven. Pour hot water into the baking tray and close oven immediately so that steam does not escape.
5. Bake for approximately 30 minutes, or until loaf is golden brown and sounds hollow when tapped. Cool to room temperature. 

that's my jam


It saddens me to think that there are lots of people in this world that have never tasted homemade jam. I myself only recently discovered the delights of canning and preserving and I can't believe I didn't sooner. 

You know that mediocre, tooth-achingly sugary, fruit-like substance labeled "jam" on grocery store shelves? It doesn't even deserve to share the same name as the goodness you make in your own kitchen. It's akin to the difference between a dollar store pashmina and an Hermรจs scarf. Or Mavis Staples' transcendent "I'll Take You There" and muzak. Mercy.

I took a jam-making class a while back and when I tasted that first spoonful of plum preserves, I gasped. Seriously. I was instantly smitten.   

So friends, please allow me to introduce you to the joys of real jam. I have a feeling you will love this recipe. It serves up the essence of apricot, bursting with summer sweetness, dressed up ever-so-slightly with lemon and vanilla. Perfect for spooning over cream tea scones, crisp toast or pancakes

Apricot jam
Inspired by Vintage Mixture
Yields 1 and 1/2 small jars worth

1 and 1/2 pounds apricots
1 and 1/8 cups sugar
1 and 1/2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/2 vanilla pod

1. Pit the apricots and cut into small chunks, leaving skins on.
2. Place in a large saucepan and add sugar. Bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring frequently. Spoon off the foam as it rises (save to drizzle over yogurt the next day). Continue cooking until the jam reduces. 
3. Use the spoon test to see when jam is done. 
4. When it's done, add the vanilla seeds. Turn off heat and let it cook for a few more minutes. Remove from heat and stir in lemon juice.
5. Ladle jam into sterilized jars. I'll confess that I'm still a little intimidated by the canning process, so instead I make small batches, refrigerate them, and eat immediately. I think this jam should keep up to a week in the fridge, but my guess is that it won't last that long. Mine certainly didn't.

NOTE: If you are looking for a way to use the remaining half of the vanilla bean, a half batch of this gorgeous rice pudding recipe will do the trick. You also can rinse the pods after use and make vanilla sugar with them. 

kitchen yoga


Those of us who have learned how to bake know the secret to equanimity. When the world pinches us – when we feel discouraged or depleted or slightly despairing – we retreat to the kitchen. 

We know that there is nothing more soothing than mixing and stirring and kneading, nothing more comforting than the sweet scent that fills your home when something is baking in the oven. And we know that there is nothing more magical than the transformation of butter and sugar and flour into cakes and cookies and pies. Baking takes the goodness of the universe and somehow makes it tangible.

Every pastry chef that I have ever interviewed has echoed this sentiment. But I think that Anna Olson said it best when she told me that she refers to baking as "kitchen yoga."

Your recipe need not be super saccharine to do the trick. Healthy recipes give you all the joy of baking without winding up with a gooey chocolate cake hanging around on your counter, insisting that you cut off just one more slice. 


I grew up on these wholesome bran muffins, and to me they taste like home. Sometimes I throw in some blueberries (or raisins, if I'm making them for people who like that sort of thing). But really, they are much better plain. Serve them warm, with just a dab of butter.

Making them is a truly restorative exercise, ideal for performing in the early morning hours on the weekend, as the city slumbers and then stirs and wakes to life.

Zen Bran Muffins

Adapted from The Laura Secord Canadian Cookbook's Cavendish Bran Muffins
Makes 12 muffins

1 and 1/3 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup of bran
1/4 cup of vegetable oil
2 tablespoons brown sugar 
1 egg
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 cup molasses
2/3 cup yogurt
1/2 cup of raisins or 1 cup blueberries (optional)

1. Preheat oven to 400F.
2. Line a medium muffin tray with paper baking cups.
3. Sift or blend together the dry ingredients.
4. In a separate bowl, mix together the oil, brown sugar, egg, vanilla and molasses.
5. Add dry ingredients to wet ingredients alternately with yogurt. Combine lightly after each addition. If using, fold in berries or raisins. 
6. Fill prepared muffin cups and bake for 15-18 minutes, until a toothpick comes out clean. 

cooking for a crowd


I tend to do my best cooking alone in the kitchen, with nothing on my mind other than a quiet solo dinner. I listen to CBC radio as I putter, or perhaps some Drake or Lauryn Hill, and a sense of contentment steals over me. Chop, stir, muse, taste. There is nobody to please but myself. From this serenity, flavours emerge. As the wonderful food writer Tamar Adler might put it: lettuce and salad dressing join forces harmoniously; noodles embrace sauce; cheeses melt beautifully, oozing gratitude. A relaxed state of mind encourages food to become its best self. 

Unfortunately – and I have learned this the hard way, folks – the reverse is also true. If I am scattered or pressed for time or even slightly anxious, the results are never good. Dishes that I have cooked a dozen times take on alien tastes or consistencies. They resent the lack of attention; they refuse to cooperate. 

And here's the thing: when a bunch of people come to dinner, I am never particularly relaxed. They are at my table and I want to feed them well, but this wanting to feed them well gets in the way of actually doing so. Add to that: they understandably want to talk to me when they arrive. But I can't seem to be able to be present for my lovely guests and give my demanding little dishes the focus they require.

So I no longer try to do both. These days, for dinner parties, I serve things that are ridiculously reliable, super simple and can be made ahead – slowly, quietly, thoughtfully. Like this lasagna. It is straightforward, yields enough to feed a party and is so delicious that I now field regular requests for it. Add an easy peasy green salad, a platter of cut tomatoes strewn with buffalo mozzarella and drizzled with oil and balsamic vinegar and a basket of good bread, and bob's your uncle, you have a satisfying spread.

Next time you entertain, do yourself a favour and have this lasagna bubbling in the oven before your charming friends come knocking on your door.

Easy does it lasagna
Adapted from Chatelaine magazine
Makes 8 servings

1 lb ground beef
double batch of Life-Changing Tomato Sauce
salt and pepper, to taste
handful of basil leaves, chopped
3/4 box of oven-ready lasagna noodles
475g container ricotta cheese
340g package of pre-shredded Italian cheese (I swear by the President's Choice version, which has mozzarella, parmesan and provolone)

1. Preheat oven to 500F. 
2. Lightly brown beef in saucepan, breaking up meat, for 5-7 minutes. Remove from heat. Stir in sauce. Add salt and pepper, to taste. Add basil.
3. Spread 1/2 cup of sauce over bottom of a 9 x 13 baking dish. Cover with layer of noodles. Using a tablespoon, drop half of ricotta evenly over noodles. (Do not spread.)  Spoon half of remaining sauce on top. Sprinkle with handful of cheese. 
4. Add another layer of noodles, ricotta, sauce (reserving a few spoons, as this will help the top from drying out) and cheese. 
5. Top with a layer of noodles and reserved sauce. Gently press noodles into sauce. Evenly sprinkle with remaining cheese. 
6. Lay a piece of foil overtop. Seal shut. Place lasagna in centre of oven and reduce heat to 400F. Bake 20 minutes. Remove foil and bake until lasagna is hot in centre, from 20 to 30 more minutes.
7. Let stand 10 minutes before cutting, as you make sparkling conversation. 


life-changing tomato sauce



I am of the opinion that if you have a good tomato sauce recipe in your repertoire, you are well on your way to becoming a decent home cook. If you have mastered that, after all, you can make winning pastas and lasagnas and pizzas and all manner of sloppy sandwiches. Moreover, you have glimpsed the reality that all things are possible.

This recipe is the first tomato sauce I ever tried and also happens to be the best.

There is nothing in the world like the smell of garlic sizzling in olive oil, and, minutes later, the taste of a rich, hearty tomato sauce. It’s the epitome of comfort.

Also: enormously handy in a pinch. When I am on a budget, I make this sauce. When I get home from work at nine o’clock, famished, and have nothing in the fridge, I make this sauce. When I have friends coming over for dinner on a weeknight (what was I thinking?), I make this sauce. I wouldn’t even dream of ordering takeout. Why would I?

This recipe is happily available online, and I have taken to recommending it to people frequently. I can’t tell you how many have made their first forays in the kitchen with it. I converted all of my non-cooking family and friends – and then I was forced to branch out. 

Recently I was getting my face made up when I sung its praises to the makeup artist, who until then had only ever used jarred sauces. The next time that I arrived in her chair, she greeted me with an enormous hug and raved about how the sauce had changed her life. Then she took extra long on my makeup. So you'd be surprised what a humble little tomato sauce can do for you.

Magic Tomato Sauce
Adapted from David Rocco's Dolce Vita (one of my fave cookbooks)
Serves 4

3 and 1/2 tablespoons olive oil
2 cloves garlic, put through garlic press
pinch of chili flakes
796 ml can of roma tomatoes (no extra seasoning)
salt, to taste

1. Rinse tomatoes under water to get rid of seeds. Place in bowl with juice. Break up tomatoes with your hands. Set aside.
2. Pour olive oil into frying pan and add garlic and chili flakes. Heat over medium heat until garlic is fragrant but not browned.
3. Add tomatoes. Simmer and allow to reduce for 20-30 minutes, depending on the consistency you like.
4. Season with salt and pepper. Serve over pasta of your choosing.

Note: this recipe is a wonderful foundation for all sorts of pasta dishes. Feel free to add grated Parmesan cheese, cracked black pepper, chopped basil or Italian flat-leaf parsley, capers, black olives or even walnuts.


what to eat when you've eaten too much


Sometimes in life, we need to press the reset button. Picture this: you've let yourself get too busy. Desperate for fuel, you begin treating yourself to an endless parade of sweets. Before you know it, this approach has extended to your meals. Cheese on everything! Extra bread! Another round of soda! Attempting to curb your enthusiasm (and perhaps save some precious time), you do away with dinner altogether, but wind up eating bags of chips on the run and calling that a meal. Vegetables become a distant memory; you can't imagine why you ever wanted them. Then one day you realize that you feel tired all the time and you have to strain to zip up your beloved Little Black Dress. You all know how it goes. 

Here's the thing: I happen to have a strategy for times like this. And I'd like to share it with you. When I find my eating out of balance, I face facts, muster up all of my determination, set aside a few days – free from social obligations – and commit to reseting my palate. Sometimes I limit myself to fruits, vegetables, chicken and fish. Other times, I eat vegan. In the winter, I go on a vegetable soup kick. In the summer, it's all about salads. The point is to cut out all of the junk and learn to enjoy real food again.

My current M.O. is the brown rice bowl. As far as I'm concerned, it's pure genius. Clean food – and so satisfying. The key is to make it really simple for yourself. At the beginning of the week, I make a giant pot of rice, grate some beets and buy a bag of grated carrots and cabbage from Whole Foods. I have green onions on hand, and avocados and a little lemon to squeeze on top. I make the sauce (which sounds ultra-complicated, but actually isn't once you've made the herb blend) and viola: dinner for days. I'm back to feeling like myself again in no time flat. You will be too.


Back to basics brown rice bowl
Inspired by the latest cookbook from Fresh restaurant
Serves one

1/2 cup of cooked brown rice
grated beets
grated carrots
grated white cabbage
grated purple cabbage
avocado, chopped
package of extra firm tofu, cubed
green onions, thinly sliced
squeeze of lemon
drizzle of sauce, to taste

Place warm or room temperature rice on a plate. Pile on the beets, carrots, cabbage and avocado and tofu. Sprinkle with green onions and drizzle with lemon. Pour sauce on top.

Sauce
Adapted from the latest cookbook from Fresh restaurant
Makes about 1/2 cup

Whisk together: 

1/3 cup olive oil
2 tablespoons tamari
scant 1 teaspoon mixed herbs

Mixed herbs
1 tablespoon dried basil
1 tablespoon dried oregano
1 tablespoon dried marjoram
1 tablespoon dried dill
1 tablespoon dried dill
1/2 tablespoon dried rosemary
1/2 tablespoon dried tarragon


the world's most whimsical cookie



Right around this time of year, every year, I take to the kitchen. I play the corniest Christmas music I can find and bake enormous batches of shortbreads, coconut macaroons, chocolate chip cranberry cookies, sugar cookies and caramel pecan squares. (And, in a nod to nostalgia, these.) Then I package them all up in festive tins and give them away to my nearest and dearest. 

To me, it isn't Christmas until I have baked. The homey smell wafting from the oven, the magical transformation of butter and flour and sugar into solid love, the ritual of counting my blessings as I count the cookies – I eat it all up.

This year, I'm adding a new recipe to the repertoire. Essentially a fancy shortbread, cardamom cloud cookies are an absolute dream. They are easy to whip up, endlessly fragrant and utterly beautiful to look at. And the name! Can you imagine a more poetic name for a cookie?

I like to think that these are cookies to keep rather than give away. Unlike the more obvious, ooey gooey treats of the season – I am looking at you, Hello Dolly bar – these mildly sweet, subtle little bites are best suited for solo contemplation. Feel free to enjoy with an enormous mug of milky tea, with the Love, Actually soundtrack playing cheerfully in the background. And a contented smile on your face.

Clouds of cardamom and cashew cookies
Adapted from Padma Lakshmi's Tangy Tart Hot & Sweet
Makes about 2 dozen cookies

1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, chilled and cut into pieces
1/4 cup icing sugar, plus loads more for dusty
2 cups flour
1/2 cup raw crushed cashews
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 1/2 teaspoons cardamom powder
1/8 teaspoon salt

1. In a bowl, combine the butter and icing sugar to form a stiff mixture. Add the flour, nuts, vanilla, cardamom powder and salt. Mix well to form a dough. Let stand 30 minutes, covered, at room temperature.
2. Preheat oven to 325 F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
3. Make small balls of the dough and place them on baking sheet. Smash with palm of your hand. Make sure cookies don't touch.
4. Bake for 20-25 minutes, until bottoms are light brown. Remove from oven and dust generously with icing sugar. Cool on racks.

no-effort rice pudding




The thing about cooking is that the less you do of it, the more daunting it seems. And then the lazier you get. 

From time to time (read: often), I get caught up working long hours (read: going to cocktail parties and events after hours) and before I know it it's been weeks since I cooked a proper meal. In spite of the hundreds of cookbooks that litter my home, I forget that I know how to cook. Everything seems just a touch too intimidating. And way too much effort to bother with.

Then I am back to absentmindedly eating sushi for dinner at my desk and looking at coffee and drugstore chocolate as an acceptable lunch. And that, as we all know, is just no way to live. Quite joyless, don't you think? 

To ease myself back into the life of the kitchen, I must keep things very, very simple. A little green salad, dressed with oil and fine balsamic vinegar, and penne tossed with a good solid pesto from the market. Followed by the easiest dessert that can be whipped up and still considered homemade: the little rice pudding that could.

It's the ultimate comfort food, with the least possible fuss. You will find that it is as simple as stirring together a few ingredients in a ramekin and then plopping it in the oven. When it comes out, all warmth and sweetness, it will taste like home. And then you will remember, one more time, that home food truly is the best food – and that it's completely, totally worth the (slight) effort that it takes to prepare it. You'll be back cooking in no time. Promise.

Individual rice pudding
Adapted from Epicurious
Serves 1

1/2 cup of milk, plus a splash for serving
4 teaspoons Arborio rice
2 teaspoons sugar
pinch of salt
pinch of nutmeg
splash of vanilla
butter, for ramekin

1. Preheat oven to 325 F.
2. Butter one ramekin (just under a cup capacity is good).
3. Add milk, rice, sugar, salt, nutmeg and vanilla. Give it a quick stir.
4. Place ramekin on baking sheet and bake, in the middle of the oven, until most of the milk has been absorbed, about one hour. 
5. Cool pudding on rack.
6. Discard skin, stir in extra milk. 
7. I like to bake a little stone fruit to serve on the side, but if this is too much trouble for you, best to leave well enough alone.

in defense of dinner




I'm a sucker for an easy recipe. Give me a handful of ingredients and a couple of easy steps to follow and I am automatically intrigued. I want recipes to be quick and reliable – and to yield food so delicious that you crave it for days after it's all eaten up. And if it looks insanely appetizing on top of all that? Forget about it. 

Pretty sure that this was how home cooks operated for hundreds of years, before we went and made things all complicated for ourselves. Before takeout and prepared foods and restaurants on every block, before the mass exodus from kitchens across North America, people made the same food week after week, year after year. So it had to be fast. And it had to easy. And it had to taste darn good. 

Being the sentimental soul that I am, I often get nostalgic for the days when dinner reigned supreme. In my home growing up, my mother cooked every night and we all sat down together. Her wholesome repertoire – a mix of rustic French country cooking, proper British fare and hippie health food – was the backdrop of our lives. The delicate bacon quiches and the creamy cauliflower soups, the rich shepherd's pies and egg custards, the tasty whole wheat pizzas and sprouted salads, it all infused the mundane routines of daily life with pleasure and comfort and beauty. 

All of this is why I am determined to follow her lead. And what better way to do that than with her recipes? My mother's macaroni and cheese recipe was handed down from her mum – a wonderful home cook – and now she is passing it on to me. This dish is a firm favorite with the family, and it's super simple to throw together. I like to serve it with a fresh salad. Here's the easiest one I know. 

This is humble home food and so one might be reluctant to serve it to guests. But you know what? If there's one thing I've learned over the past few years, it's that we are all starved for a little humble home food. So I'm never surprised when friends see this on the table and breathe a nice long sigh of relief.  


Mum's mac & cheese
Serves 4 small portions

2 tablespoons flour
2 tablespoons butter
1 cup of milk
1 cup grated aged cheddar cheese, plus extra for topping 
1 1/2 cup elbow macaroni
chopped parsley, to taste
grated parmesan cheese, to taste
breadcrumbs, to taste
salt and pepper, to taste

1. Place a pot of salted water on to boil.
2. Meanwhile, melt butter in separate saucepan and then stir in flour slowly, stirring. Brown slightly and take off heat. Stir in milk gradually. 
3. Return to heat and stir continuously until it thickens into a sauce. Remove from heat and stir in cup of cheese. (By the way, for this dish, it's worth shelling out for top quality cheese.)
4. Cook pasta following directions on package, drain and stir in cheese sauce. Season with salt and pepper, to taste. Pour into a baking dish. 
5. Top with bread crumbs, extra cheddar, parmesan and parsley and place under broiler to melt until cheese bubbles and browns.

Insalata verde a.k.a. the easiest salad you'll ever make
Adapted from Williams-Sonoma Rome: Authentic Recipes Celebrating the Foods of the World by Chuck Williams
Serves 4

5 cups of lettuce
3 green onions, white parts only, thinly sliced
salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste
2 teaspoons of red wine vinegar
2 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil
salt and pepper, to taste

1. Wash and dry greens.
2. Place onions in the bottom of a large salad bowl. Sprinkle with salt and pepper and then add vinegar, then oil.
3. Lay greens on top of dressing and sprinkle with a little more salt. Leave salad for an hour or so while you prepare the rest of the meal.
4. Just before serving, toss the salad well, making sure the leaves are coated in oil. 

breakfast of champions



Before I started cooking, I had all kinds of funny notions about what actually went on in the kitchen. One of which concerned granola. Specifically, I entertained fantasties about making it. The granola that's sold in stores tends to be tasteless and wildly expensive, so I figured that people would love receiving a container of truly delicious homemade cereal for Christmas. I had visions of filling Ikea glass jars and hand painting cards. Thing was, I was sure that the task of making the granola itself would be arduous and complicated and would take hours and hours to complete. So I never did it. 

Then I learned to cook and nothing seemed all that daunting anymore. But for some reason granola was a last, stubborn vestige of the old way of thinking. 

Four years ago, my best friend gave me a wonderfully decadent collection of recipes, Baked, and flipping through it I came across Easy Homemade Granola. I was intrigued. Was it possible that I had it all wrong? Could whipping up granola be something simple and straightforward, more of a casual Tuesday night affair than the holiday mega-project that I had imagined it to be? 

Happy to report that I did have it backwards. Granola is actually easy as pie, and this recipe especially so. It takes minutes – minutes! – to get in the oven. And it fills your home with the tantalizing aroma of cinnamon and sugar and toasted oats, to boot. Plus, it is about a thousand times more yummy than the packaged stuff. I have since made granola as gifts, and people do indeed appreciate it. But it need not be reserved for special occasions. Breakfast is occasion enough. 



Easy homemade granola
Adapted from Baked: New Frontiers in Baking by Matt Lewis and Renato Poliafito
Makes: 1 pound of morning goodness

2 cups rolled oats
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon vegetable oil
1/4 cup honey
1/4 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/3 cup almonds
1/3 cup cashews
1/3 cup pecans
1/3 cup dried sour cherries

1. Preheat oven to 325 F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
2. In a  large bowl, toss the oats with cinnamon and salt.
3. In a medium bowl, stir together the oil, honey, brown sugar and vanilla. Whisk until completely combined.
4. Pour the honey mixture over the oats mixture and use your hands to combine until all oats are covered in honey.
5. Pour mixture on baking sheet and spread out, leaving a few clumps for texture.
6. Bake for 10 minutes, then remove from the oven and use a metal spatula to lift and flip the granola. Sprinkle the almonds over granola and return to oven.
7. Bake for 5 minutes, then remove from oven and flip granola again. Sprinkle on the pecans and cashews and return to oven.
8. Bake 10 minutes then remove from oven. Let cool completely. Sprinkle the dried cherries over the granola and use your hands to transfer to an airtight container. Granola will keep for one week.

paradise for plant-eating pals



Sometimes things are just so right. Like when you put on a new album, and within seconds of when the beat drops you know that it's going to be everything you'd hoped for. You know that you will forget that you are listening to music at all, in fact, and instead just experience the vastness of life. You know? Or when you pick up a new book and just a few pages in, you have to stop and sigh in contentment because you have absolute confidence that you're in good hands. You know that the story is going to draw you in and allow you to lose yourself in the wonder of it all.

I love that feeling. I love it when people make beautiful things and then send them out into the world to give others joy. 

That's exactly what I thought about when I took the first bite of this dish. A friend had recommended Alice Hart's gorgeous cookbook Vegetarian and this was the first recipe I tried. Insanely delicious, my friends. The flavour was so good it was almost shocking, each element in perfect harmony with the others. 

People are eating a lot less meat these days, so I am always looking for inventive vegetarian recipes to feed friends. If you have any plant-eating pals hanging around, feeling slightly forlorn about the steady diet of veggie burgers and tomato pastas they get served in restaurants, feel free to knock their socks off with this.

Warm couscous salad with preserved lemon & charmoula
Slightly adapted from Vegetarian by Alice Hart
Serves 4

4 young parsnips
3 red peppers, deseeded and sliced
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons honey
2 preserved lemons, quartered
1 cup Israeli couscous
1 batch of charmoula (recipe to follow)
juice of 1 lemon
one small bunch of cilantro, leaves only
3/4 cup of Greek yogurt
salt and pepper, to taste

1. Preheat oven to 400F. 
2. Slice the parsnips lengthwise into halves or quarters depending on their size. Place in a roasting pan with the red peppers and coat with the olive oil and honey. Season with salt and pepper and roast for about 35 minutes, until caramelized. 
3. Slice the flesh from the preserved lemons and discard. Cut peel into strips.
4. Cook Israeli couscous according to instructions on package.
5. Combine the roasted parsnips and peppers with the cooked couscous and add 1 tablespoon of the charmoula, along with the preserved lemon peel, lemon juice and most of the cilantro.
6. Ripple the remaining charmoula through the yogurt and serve spooned onto the salad. Garnish with the rest of the cilantro.  

Charmoula
1 small bunch cilantro
1 small bunch parsley
1 tablespoon cumin seeds, toasted
finely grated zest and juice of 1 lemon
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 garlic clove, crushed
1/2 teaspoon paprika
pepper, to taste

1. Finely chop cilantro and parley. 
2. Combine with the rest of ingredients. If it seems too thick, add extra olive oil. Season with pepper, to taste. 
3. Keeps, covered in the fridge, for up to 2 weeks. 

big bowl of happiness



Well, it's finally soup season folks. Personally, I couldn't be more thrilled. There's something about this time of year – the chill in the air, the sudden need for scarves, the shorter days, the cold rain – that makes me want to rush home and stir a pot of soup. I've taken to making enormous pots every Sunday, so that on gloomy, cold autumn weeknights I don't have to wait for my supper. 

Since I fancy myself something of a French woman in training, of course I start every meal with a simply-prepared vegetable course: grated carrots in vinaigrette, a little cabbage coleslaw or perhaps some savory corn pancakes. These days, I always follow this with soup. Butternut squash, Parisian mushroom, mixed vegetable, potato and leek, beef brisket in broth with noodles. But the most comforting recipe in my repertoire is this creamy cauliflower and garlic soup. Unbelievably tasty and satisfying.  

I can't say that it's a lightening-quick meal to prepare, since it has multiple steps and a cooling period – so please understand that this is a weekend project. But I can tell you that your efforts will be rewarded all week long, and you will thank yourself many times over as you sit down to steaming bowls of this soothing soup. 

Roasted cauliflower and garlic soup
Adapted from Clean Start by Terry Walters
Serves 6

2 heads cauliflower
4 tablespoons olive oil, plus extra for rubbing garlic
1 garlic bulb
1 cup diced sweet onion
2 tablespoons mirin
2 teaspoons sea salt
4-6 cups water
2 tablespoons fresh thyme leaves
ground pepper, to taste

1. Preheat oven to 350F.
2. Chop cauliflower and drizzle with 2 tablespoons of olive oil; toss to coat. Place on two parchment paper-lined baking sheets. Cut off top of garlic, rub entire bulb with oil and wrap in foil. Place all in oven and roast for about 1 hour, or until soft, tossing cauliflower occasionally. Remove from oven and set aside.
3. When garlic is cool enough to handle, separate cloves, peel, discard skins and set aside.
4. In large soup pot, over medium-high heat, saute onion in 1 tablespoon of olive oil until translucent (about 5 minutes). Add roasted cauliflower and garlic, mirin, salt and 4 cups of water. Increase heat and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer 5 minutes. Wait until soup cools and puree in blender. If soup is too pasty, add 1-2 cups of water until desired consistency is achieved.
5. Return to heat, stir in 1 tablespoon thyme leaves and pepper, to taste. Simmer 20 minutes to allow flavours to blend. Remove from heat and stir in remaining tablespoon of oil. Garnish with remaining thyme leaves and serve. 

celebration chocolate pots


Do you ever get the feeling that you are right where you are meant to be – at the right place, at the right time, doing exactly what you are meant to be doing? As it turns out, I often feel that way when I bake these chocolate pots. I love everything about them: the elegant look, the heavenly smell, how happy they seem to make people. And obviously the decadent, brownie-like tops and the rich pools of chocolate pudding lurking within are nothing to sneeze at either. 

Clearly I have developed a sentimental fondness for this sweet little dish. I think it's because I've served them over and over to people that I am fond of, and they've become something of a tradition in my circle. 

I had a friend over for dinner the other night and I took great pleasure in introducing her to this recipe. As I told her, what's especially lovely about these is how well they work for dinner parties. Whip them up early and then cover in plastic wrap and stash in the fridge while you make the rest of the menu. About an hour before dinner, preheat the oven, take them out of the fridge and allow to come to room temperature. When dinner is served, put them in the oven to bake. As people finish eating they will begin to smell the aroma of chocolate. I guarantee you will enjoy the looks on their faces. Leave little gems to cool while you make the coffee, and then serve them to your drooling diners. And feel free to play a little Otis Redding while you're at it. Or perhaps some Mingus

This recipe is, of course, from Nigella Lawson, a woman who knows a thing or two about desserts. Not to mention the art of living. (Hint: happiness has nothing to do with pointless depravation. Not one single thing.)

Chocolate Pots, aka easiest dinner party dessert ever
By Nigella Lawson, makes 4 
¾ cup semisweet chocolate chips
just over a stick of soft, unsalted butter
2 eggs

¾ cup of sugar
3 tablespoons flour


1. Preheat oven to 400F.
2. Place a metal bowl over a pot of gently boiling water. Add the chocolate chips and the butter and allow to melt slowly.
3. Use the wrapper from the butter to grease four ramekins (just under a cup volume each).
4. Cool the melted chocolate mixture.
5. In a mixing bowl, beat eggs.
6. Add sugar and whisk.
7. Spoon in flour and whisk. 
8. Fold the cooled chocolate into the egg mixture and stir to combine.
9. Pour into ramekins, place on baking sheet and cook for about 20 minutes, until top is cracked. (Middle should still be gooey and molten.)
10. Cool chocolate pots for 15-30 minutes and serve.