Fast and Easy Pasta Via Bittman

Spaghetti with Broccoli Rabe, Toasted Garlic and Bread Crumbs

I made this pasta for dinner tonight, and oh my was it easy. Want dinner in about 20 minutes? Here it is.

My only change would be to give a little more olive oil at the finish. Oh, and I used fine linguini. It was gobbled up by everyone.

Everybody Loves Chocolate Pudding –or- Family Dessert

My Girl’s pediatrician told me that you can count on homemade chocolate pudding as a good source of calcium, so what more excuse did I need to whip some up. I had seen some lovely looking puddings at the always cute Kitchenette restaurant. They serve them in canning jars, and that’s the kind of pudding I wanted to pull out of my fridge too.

I looked around for recipes and finally found one that didn’t rely on cornstarch and understood the benefits of good chocolate. Weeks went by. I tap tap tapped the ingredients into the little list app for my phone and carried it around with me for days. First I got the Valrhona chocolate chips at Fairway and stored them in my pantry for a couple of weeks. Then the day finally came (thank you, Spring Break!) when I had time to make the pudding. I purchased the remaining ingredients and some more canning jars and was ready to go.

Making the pudding itself was hardly any work. You could do it while talking on the phone and supervising children on a play date. I did! The bad news came when I realized that the pudding had to cook in the hot water bath for an hour, cool outside of the oven for an hour, and then chill in the fridge for another hour. I guess if you want instant you go the Bill Cosby route.

When the pudding was finally done we weren’t disappointed. It is rich and smooth. Thicker than a mousse, more complex and (dare I say?) more satisfying. In a few minutes all you could hear was the clink-clink-clink of our spoons trying to dig out the last bits of it from our jars.

The recipe made six - 1/2 jars, and we were generous enough to give two away. That meant we had some to spare, and it was even better on day 2, when it had set even more.

I was feeling guilty about the calories, but when I divided up the amounts of whole milk and heavy cream by six servings it really didn’t seem all that bad. Really. No really.

You don’t want to have the oven on for an hour in the summer, so you should really make this dessert soon, maybe tomorrow.

Valrhona Chocolate Pudding – adapted from Gourmet 9/04 and epicurious.com

yield: Makes 6 servings
active time: 30 min
total time: 3 1/2 hr

1/2 vanilla bean, halved lengthwise
1 1/2 cups whole milk
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/3 cup sugar
4 1/2 oz Valrhona bittersweet chocolate (61%), finely chopped, or chocolate chips
5 large egg yolks

Special equipment: 6 (4-oz) ramekins or 1/2 pint canning jars, it helps to have a kitchen scale


Put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 275°F.
Scrape seeds from vanilla bean into a 2- to 3-quart heavy saucepan with tip of a paring knife, then add pod, milk, cream, and sugar and bring just to a boil, stirring until sugar is dissolved. Add chocolate and cook over moderately high heat, stirring gently with a whisk, until chocolate is melted and mixture just boils. Remove from heat.
Pour mixture into a metal bowl. Set bowl in a larger bowl of ice and cold water and cool to room temperature, stirring occasionally, about 5 minutes. Whisk in yolks, then pour through a fine-mesh sieve into a 1-quart measure, discarding pod and any other solids.
Divide mixture among ramekins. Place pudding jars in a roasting pan and fill with water up to half of the jar. Bake until puddings are just set around edge but centers wobble when ramekins are gently shaken, about 1 hour.
Cool puddings in the water bath 1 hour, then remove from water and chill, uncovered, until cold, at least 1 hour.

If you’re using canning jars you can screw the caps on them to keep the pudding fresh or to transport to a really, really good friend.

Tamales - Epilogue

I know I skipped some steps here, going straight to the epilogue, but the tamales were such an ordeal that I didn’t have the energy to tell the tale until days after.

Lesson 1, which needs to be learned and relearned, is read your recipe though – carefully. I think my confidence and exuberance make me skim a recipe, rather than pay close attention. Whatever the reason, I need to get better at this.

Lesson 2 is if your mind’s eye sees a bunch of women gathered together to do the work (think quilting, making preserves, making tamales), it’s usually because it’s a lot of work.

So I left you with the cornhusks soaking and the chicken roasted, on the first day. That was the easy work. I used Rick Bayless’ recipes, which you can find here.

Making the batter was pretty easy, so I started that at 10:00 pm, after My Girl had gone to bed and the kitchen was clean from dinner. It basically involved making dough in the mixer and letting it rest for an hour. I made the rest of the filling during that hour, getting the meat from the chicken, mixing up the salsa and masa (masa makes it thicker). I used Trader Joes jarred tomatillo salsa, but I added the drippings (fat scooped off).

Next thing I knew it was 11:00 pm, and I was determined to finish the job that night! I dried off the biggest and best cornhusks and cut kitchen string in about 9 inch lengths. Bad news: I only had enough for nine strings. My visions of 24 glorious tamales began to dash. Still I soldiered on, spreading a 4x4 inch square of the dough in the center of a big husk. I made a little dollop (1 heaping Tablespoon) of filling in the center and sprinkled a bit of queso fresco on top. Then I rolled one side of the husk onto the other side so the masa would meet as I rolled up the husk. I folded the top and bottom sides in and tied it up length-wise with the string. This took a long time.

I read more of the directions: Steam the tamales in batches, filling one layer of a steamer at a time. Steam for 1 1/2 hours.

Midnight. I have 8 tamales (one string was too small, so I had to tie two together) making one layer in the steamer. They cook for 1 1/2 hours. I call my girlfriend in California and talk to her for as long as it takes to steam the tamales. I do a bit of cleaning while I’m on the phone. I rationalized that I could go around the house looking for more kitchen string, but assembling more tamales would take hours. What if I spent all that time and they were horrible? As they say, eight is enough.

The tamales now have to sit for another hour and then you need to steam them again (for 15 minutes) before you serve them. I put them in fridge, cleaned up the rest of the kitchen, and crashed in bed at 2:00 am.

Jump to next night and absolute tamale bliss. I steamed them and then carefully peeled back the first bits of husk. Soft, smooth masa is revealed. I cut into it and have a taste. I swear, it is one of the best tamales I’ve ever had. It is magnificent, beyond my highest expectations.

Friends said I could have used the leftover masa dough to make a tamale pie, and I could have. The thing is, the steaming is what made them so incredibly soft and moist. You’d lose that with a baked tamale pie.

So I’ll be making these again, but next time it won’t be a solo affair. I’ll be doing it the way it’s supposed to be done, with some friendly helping hands.

The Tamale Experiment

After having one too many dried out tamales, where the masa was like cardboard and the filling bland, I am embarking on an experiment: Making My Own Tamales.

Day 1 - Procure ingredients

Most everything is available at Fairway, though it was a search for the dried corn husks. I had bought some for Esme to make dolls with years ago, but I had to ask four employees where they were. Turns out they were in their usual place in the produce section, hiding behind some dried chilies.

I had to ask about the lard too. It was above the pork products in the cold room.


Day 2 - It's a start

I roasted a small chicken with salt, pepper, and coriander. I decided to stuff it with a lime, which seems to have worked well. When it was done, I cut it up and saved the juices, making stock from the bones.

I started soaking the corn husks in hot water, with a plate over them to keep them from floating up.

It suddenly occurred to me that some cheese would be good, so I googled "mexican market westchester" and found Mariachi Loco on Central Ave. (the ugly, busy street that every city seems to have). I got the cheese, some more limes, some warm tortillas, and some pre-made mole. On the way out I sampled a chicken taco at their restaurant next door. Muy bien.

Good For What Ails You

We’ve had a pretty sickly household lately; both Evan and My Girl are chomping on antibiotics. I have been able to claim a number of honors: healthiest person in the house, person who uses the least Kleenex, and best cook. That means I’ve been doing double duty with the chicken soup front. I started off with a basic chicken soup (chicken breast, carrots, celery, onion), which was good for the onset of the afflictions, but by day three it was time to pick things up a bit. I dug out an old recipe for “Sopa de Tortilla.”

Back when I was young(er), I used to go plays at American Conservatory Theater (ACT) or The Curren in San Francisco. There was an affordable little soup place right across the street, and it became a regular part of the whole theater going experience (a mad dash for coconut macaroons at intermission was also a part of this, but—sadly—macaroons don’t make it into this meal).

Tortilla Soup, based on the one from Salmagundi’s Restaurant

3 pounds chicken pieces
4 quarts water
1 teaspoon whole black peppercorns
2 garlic cloves, peeled
1 bay leaf
1 teaspoon whole coriander seeds

1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon ground coriander seeds
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 (1-pound) can whole peeled tomatoes(chopped up in the can a bit), undrained
1 onion, choped
1 green pepper, chopped
1 garlic clove, minced

1 (10-ounce) package frozen corn
4 green onions, coarsely chopped
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1 cup cooked rice
1 Tablespoon chopped coriander

To Serve:
Corn tortillas
Corn oil

Grated cheese (Jack, Cheddar)

Combine chicken and water in stockpot. Make a bouquet garni of the peppercorns, coriander seeds, garlic, and any inner leaves from the celery. Cover and bring to boil, then reduce heat and simmer until chicken is tender, about 45 minutes. Skim as necessary. Remove chicken from broth and let cool.

Toast cumin, coriander, and cayenne in small skillet. Be careful not to let it burn, but just to turn to a little shade darker. Add to stock.
Add tomatoes, onion, green pepper and minced garlic; cover and simmer 30 minutes.

Add corn and green onion and simmer 10 minutes more. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Meanwhile, skin and bone chicken. Dice meat into 1-inch pieces. Add to broth with rice heat through.

Heat about 1 1/2 inches of corn oil in a skillet. Let oil get fairly hot. Cut corn tortillas into strips and fry a few at a time into tortilla chip strips. Let drain on paper towels.

TO SERVE:
Put cheese at the bottom of the bowl. Ladle into warm bowls and garnish with tortilla chips and fresh cilantro.



Everyone was happy eating the soup. Quiet cheers were heard as the two sniffled and coughed their way back to bed.

Do you know this place?

You should! It's a fabulous cookbook store on Lexington Ave. in New York City. If you're not fortunate enough to be able to stop by, get on their e-mailing list. Every once in a while they send a list of interesting cookbooks, and most of the authors don't even have TV shows. That's something!

For example:

John Thorne. MOUTH WIDE OPEN.
The paperback edition of the latest collection of Thorne's thoughtful ruminations on cooking, ranging from marmalade and anchovies to improvised breakfasts. p. $15.00

Joan Santanach, editor; Robin Vogelzang, translator. THE BOOK OF SENT SOVÍ.
The first English rendition of an important, anonymous culinary text from 14th-century Catalonia. This is a glimpse at Spanish court food before the arrival of New World ingredients such as tomatoes, potatoes or peppers. The original Catalan text is included, rendered in contemporary spellings. p. $34.95

Amanda Hesser, editor. EAT, MEMORY.
This collection of food-related essays from The New York Times Magazine does not recycle old standards. Instead, it features a wide range of contributors, from the expected (Dan Barber, R.W. Apple) to the surprising (Tucker Carlson, Pico Iyer). Among the others: Dorothy Allison, John Burnham Schwartz, Gabrielle Hamilton, Jon Robin Baitz. cl. $24.95

Kelly Alexander and Cynthia Harris. HOMETOWN APPETITES.
In the 1950s and 60s Clementine Paddleford was a household name in America, writing on food-particularly American regional food-for the New York Herald Tribune. Alexander, a former editor at Saveur, and Harris, an archivist who oversees Paddleford's manuscripts, argue convincingly that this forgotten pioneer's adventurous, engaging prose and life story deserve renewed recognition. Serious fun. b-&-w photos. cl. $27.50

Dinner in the Morning

-or- a recipe for Lyane's Crock Pot

I woke up bleary eyed at 5:00 am, but committed to the task at hand: get the dinner in the slow cooker. I had the forethought to do most of the heavy chopping last night, otherwise I might be short a few fingers typing this. That didn’t mean it was a piece of cake to even think through what I had to do to get everything in the slow cooker. There were all kinds of mistakes, just waiting to be made.

If I have any advice about how to get dinner on the table, it would be this little adage from Iron Chef Maurice: It gets easier with practice. It’s true. The more you get dinner ready the easier it is to get dinner ready. It was all that practice (and a cup of good coffee) that got me to the point where I could walk out the door at 7:00 am knowing that when I walked back in the house would smell as if Hazel had been working in Mr. B’s kitchen all afternoon.

And that’s exactly what happened. I nearly swooned from the fragrance of the pork roast, potatoes, carrots and onions simmering away.

You can do this.

Ingredients:
3 lb pork shoulder roast
Garlic slivers to stud the roast
1 C chopped onion
2 cloves garlic, minced
3-4 carrots cut into 2-3” pieces
3/4 C chopped celery
4 red potatoes, quartered
2 C chicken stock
1 C red wine
Water
Salt and Pepper
Herbs


The night before…
It does help to do some prep work the night before, and you can combine it with preparing that night’s dinner. So make something where you have to chop an onion and just chop some more. Decide to serve some carrots and then chop more. I put the carrots in a Ziploc along with some chopped celery, so I was good to go in the morning.

Morning of the scrumptious dinner…
Heat a little olive oil in a pan large enough to hold the roast. Stud the roast with garlic by (very carefully) stabbing it with a knife then inserting garlic sliver inside. Brown the roast on all sides (about 2-3 minutes a side) and put in slow cooker.

Sauté the onion in the remaining oil, add some salt, and cook until transparent. Add the minced garlic and cook for a minute or so, don’t let it burn. Add the celery and carrot mixture, letting everything get nice and sautéed.

Scrub the potatoes and chop them into quarters.

Everything goes in the slow cooker. Start this soon enough so you can let it cook on high for an hour while you drink another cup of coffee, figure out what you’re going to wear and do with your hair that day, and slather on some make-up.

Set the pot to “low” and to cook for about 6 hours.

Leave the house, knowing that dinner is ready and you have nothing else to think about.

I’ve been reading the recent Alice Waters biography, so (even though she has a management style that makes me quiver) I was inspired to make a little salad to go with the stew: hearts of romaine, sliced pear, bucheron cheese, sunflower seeds and a couple of dried cherries. It was wonderful.

Food Trip

With respect for the holiday and its celebrants, gratitude for school administrators who deemed to give us the day off, and absolute pity for those in our family who were forced to remain slave to their computer, My Girl and I ventured North yesterday in search of edible delights.

Our first stop was apple picking in Red Hook, in Dutchess County. We found a new place by browsing the Chowhound website, one that was not too big, not too commercial, and not too faraway: The Grieg Farm. We loaded up our bag with Empires, Macouns, and Macintoshes for eating; Jonagold’s for a pie. By the time we got our bag weighed and chose two small pumpkins from their patch (a real patch too, where the pumpkins were still connected to their actual vines—not just a patch of dirt where the cut pumpkins had been dumped), we were hungry.

We stumbled on Gigi Market by making a wrong turn. It’s the kind of place that wouldn’t have existed that far north five years ago. It specializes in local food from the Hudson River Valley (they list 34 farms that their restaurant supports on their menu), and does rather sumptuous things with what they get. We had a bowl of Minestrone that was delicious and filling. I had to work hard to persuade My Girl that we would be passing on the cookies and brownies there because another opportunity for dessert was yet to come.

We took a pit stop in Rhinebeck, which also seemed to be a bit more interesting than on previous visits. They have an old Five and Dime where I got a nice crochet hook, clasps to keep My Girl's mittens on her jacket sleeves, and old fashioned autumn leaf stickers. We spent far too much at the local independent bookstore (Oblong Books), but it’s hard to feel too bad about that. Plus, I found two new YA books for school: Hate That Cat (follow up to Creech’s lovely Love That Dog), and Gibson’s new Moxie Maxwell Does Not Love Writing Thank You Notes (a follow-up to the earlier Moxie Maxwell Does Not Love Stuart Little).

It was getting late, and since I always seem to end up getting lost on the way home from these parts, we hit the road. Our next stop, Hyde Park, wasn’t far at all. Dessert was to be had at the Apple Pie Bakery Café at the Culinary Institute of America.

I have wanted to go to this place for years, and it was, in fact, on my Summer To Do List, but since it was combined with going to a drive in movie (and the movie never showed anything the whole family could enjoy) it got passed up for The Amazing Tour of Miniature Golf Courses. What a mistake! This place warrants its own trip.

We had an impossible time deciding what to order. The mousse served in a little eggshell? An amazing tiramisu? Marzipan gelato?

My Girl finally chose the lemon meringue “pie,” a little tumbler with zingy lemon curd with some crust somewhere inside (it was eaten so quickly that I barely got a look at it) and a little browned meringue hat on top. I had a little tumbler with butternut squash (cooked way down with butter and some sugar into it’s most delectable essence), a round of gingerbread sponge cake, caramel/mascarpone custard, and then a little French macaroon as top. I had never tasted anything so surprising or scrumptious. I was sad when I had finished it but took delight in the strong coffee.

Our evening was bound to be a disappointment, as nothing could cap our day better than the meringue and macaroon. Still, we have today off too, and who can complain about that?

I took all those photos, so nobody can get mad at me.

Beer Can Chicken

Have we talked about Beer Can Chicken? It’s my favorite way to cook a whole chicken on the grill. I’ve been known to ask the butcher to butterfly the bird and then grill the whole thing flat, but it’s easier to plop the thing on a can of Bud and let the heat do it’s thing.

Here’s how to do it:

Beer Can Chicken

Ingredients

1 can of beer
1 whole chicken
Salt and Pepper
Some kind of rub, if you want

1. Heat the grill up.

2. Open the can of beer, and pour out (or drink) about 1/3 of it.

3. Prop chicken snugly on beer can: legs pointing down like it's going to sit down.

4. Season the chicken w/ salt and pepper. [I sometimes add some ground coriander, and sometimes I use a rub.]

5. Carefully put the beer can on the grill. Make sure it is steady and that it won’t topple (mess).

6. Cook the chicken until a meat thermometer, stuck into the bird’s thigh, reads 170 degrees.

7. Carefully take the chicken and beer can off the grill with good pot holders and tongs.

8. Even more carefully, take chicken off of the beer can and let the chicken rest for a few minutes.

9. Carve and serve.

Note: A can of bud is fine for the chicken, but pour yourself one these for a good beer: Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, Blue Point's Hoptical Illusion, or Captain Lawrence Pale Ale

Did You Know This?

“States now in the voluntary recall for ground beef purchased [from Whole Foods] between June 2 through August 6, 2008 include: Alabama, Colorado, Connecticut, Florida, Georgia, Illinois, Kansas, Kentucky, Maine, Maryland, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, Nebraska, New Mexico, New Jersey, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, Rhode Island, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, Tennessee, Utah, Virginia, Washington D. C. and Wisconsin.”

You can get more information from the Whole Foods website or from Beyond Blueberries blog.

According to Whole Foods, “the beef in question came from Coleman Natural Beef (now owned and operated by Meyer Beef), which used Nebraska Beef for processing.” I’m shocked, shocked that Whole Foods trades with factory farms. Makes that pricey chicken from the Hastings Farmer’s Market seem even more worth it.

The Time of the Season

We usually visit family in California in the late summer, which means the amazing Sacramento Farmer’s Market is in full swing. One of my favorite parts of the trip is when Iron Chef Maurice and I make the short trek to the market under the underpass and weave our way through the maze of stalls looking for the best tomatoes, melons, and peaches. This being California and more specifically the Central Valley the place is truly a cornucopia of the freshest and most beautiful food imaginable.The heirloom tomatoes, of every possible color, are the big prizes, and they get prominently displayed on the kitchen counter as we unpack and plan the meal.

We all weren’t able to make the trip West this summer, so only Evan sat down to the traditional meal, pasta with fresh tomatoes. Maurice sent along the recipe, so I was able to do my best to replicate the summer ritual. It’s called Caprese with Penne, and it’s from Viana La Place & Evan Kleiman’s wonderful Pasta Fresca, which according to Maurice everyone should have a copy of on their cook book shelf.


The recipe itself is pretty easy; the secret is that you have to have incredible tomatoes. Maurice says “Never, ever try to make Caprese with store-bought tomatoes. They must be red all the way through.” That means that this is a summer recipe, more specifically a dish for August.


One basic rule of cooking is to completely read your recipe before you even think about starting. Dinner would have been earlier if I had read the part about having the tomatoes, garlic, and basil marinate in the olive oil for about 2 hours. Dinner was after eight, but believe me—it was worth the wait.

Here’s how to make it:

4 large and incredibly beautiful tomatoes, skinned and chopped into 1” pieces
2-3 T fresh basil, chopped (or torn or in a chiffonade)
2 cloves of garlic, minced
Salt and pepper
Olive oil (recipe calls for fruity) to cover
1 lb. penne rigate pasta
1 lb fresh mozzarella (recipe says to rate the mozzarella, but Maurice has a lot to say about this)*

So yes, mix the first 5 ingredients and let them all sit an incredibly long time while everyone gets hungry and you sip gin and tonics and eat salted nuts.

Then when it seems that everyone is getting cranky and starts giving you the eye, tell them to start boiling some water for the pasta. Cook the pasta in salted and oiled water until it is al dente (about 11 minutes) because if you let it go any longer, people like My Girl (who has inherited this from her grandfather) will start telling you that you don’t know how to cook pasta. Over-cooked pasta, according to Maurice will ruin the dish and everyone will scowl.

Invite anyone who looks really hungry to slice up the mozzarella with you. They can swipe bites of it, and that should keep them happy.

Put the tomato mixture in a serving bowl. When the pasta is done, drain it (reserving some of the cooking water in case things get a little dry) and add to the tomatoes in the serving dish. Stir it up and when everything is cooled down a bit, add what’s left of the fresh mozzarella.

Serve and sing praises to summer, give a clink of your glass to Iron Chef Maurice, and decide to get the Pasta Fresca cook book from your favorite independent bookseller.





*“ Fresh, made-in-California, mozzarella in a plastic container with some of the cheese water is far better than the shrink-wrapped, rubber ball kind that is usually found in supermarkets. Taylor’s Mkt on Freeport and 4th Ave has it and so does. Corti Bros. [both in Sacramento]. Both also have Italian Buffalo mozzarella. The rubber ball stuff will work in an emergency, but the best by far is the Mozzarella da Bufala from Italia I actually don’t grate the mozzarella, but cut it into little matchstick-sized pieces and add it after I have added the tomatoes to the pasta and it has had a chance to cool down a little. If you add it before then it tends to melt and clump together. Take your pick, a highly respected chef and author, or me.”


Image from Bountiful Garden: http://www.bountiful-garden.org/strains.html

Working on the Local Thing

Farro Salad



I recently finished reading Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and I have to say that I found it inspiring. Her mantra “Eat Locally” is like an earworm, making me read those obnoxious stickers on produce to see where its from and get up early on Saturday mornings to shop at the Hastings Farmer’s Market. And that’s not all bad. I’m not really complaining here. I’m just glad I’m reading it now instead of back in the ‘80’s. I’d be digging up the back yard to plant squash and looking into raising goats. I was highly impressionable and full of zeal.

Now I embrace Julia Child’s attitude about moderation, and that’s why I could prepare my favorite farro salad for dinner last night.

The salad is problematic for “localvores” unless you live in both Italy and Spain; you see I have only been able to find farro made in Italy and Manchego cheese made in Spain. But I compensated by getting the red peppers at the local farmer’s market and the basil even closer – my own backyard. I can live with that trade off for now.

Farro, by the way, is a nutty grain. The internet tells me that it was the staple of the Roman Legions. Wikipedia says that it’s also known as Emmer Wheat and that it was one of the first domesticated crops.

I adapted this recipe from one in the beautiful Zuni Café Cookbook by Judy Rogers.

Here’s how to make it:

1C farro
1 Red pepper, diced – a bit bigger than the farro*
2/3 C Manchego cheese, diced — a bit bigger than the farro
1/4 C fresh basil en chiffonade (shredded)**
3-4 T Olive Oil
Salt and Pepper

Boil about 3 cups of water in a med. saucepan. Add a few pinches of salt.

Add I C farro to the boiling water. Cook for 10 – 15 minutes until somewhat tender, but not too firm.

Drain cooked farro, as you would pasta, and then spread it out on a baking sheet to cool.

When the grain is cool, combine red pepper, cheese, and basil in a large bowl. Add olive oil, a tablespoon at a time (while gently tossing the salad) until everything is thinly and evenly coated. Add salt and pepper to taste.

I will eat this salad anytime, even for breakfast! But now that I’ve read the Kingsolver I would feel badly to purchase basil in February. I’m not saying that I won’t ever, but I’d feel really badly.



*Rogers’ recipe calls for tomatoes. I’ve also used roasted red peppers when I’m not in a hurry.
** A chiffonade is done by stacking all of the basil leaves on top of each other, rolling them up like some kind of strange cigar, and then slicing thin thin horizontal cuttings (say, from the tip to the base).