Nigella's oeufs en cocotte with truffle oil (R.E.R. part 4)

Quite a while back I started a section called R.E.R. (ridiculously easy recipes). My idea was to write about recipes that a) are so easy you don't really even need a recipe, but that we make all the time at home and may be a new idea for you despite their simplicity or b) we think everybody knows how to make except us so we prefer looking it up on the Internet rather than asking someone and feeling stupid.

Looking back, I realized that three out of the four R.E.R.s I have posted so far involve cooking eggs and that is not a coincidence. Despite their versatility and how quick they are to make, a certain amount of technique is required when preparing them. After all, there is a reason why they say you can tell a real chef by how he/she cooks an egg.

This is a recipe from Nigella Express, a book full of quick and easy recipes for a rushed week night dinner that will still impress your guests. These eggs are a perfect idea for that brunch you are hosting this week end or for a comforting Sunday night meal, which is how Nigella grew up eating them. You can serve the eggs with toasted bread, fancy olive or parmesan bread sticks or asparagus Bismark style. You can flavor it with anything that appeals to you, from crunchy bits of bacon to chives, smoked ham, spicy tomato salsa or even cheese. But if you ask me, I think truffles and eggs are a match made in heaven and would be happy to eat them breakfast, lunch and dinner.

I had to make these a few times before getting them right. It is not as easy as you would expect to get the egg whites firm without the yolk cooking through and viceversa. Nigella says her mum used to bake them in the oven for exactly 19 minutes at low heat, but she prefers to bake them for 15 minutes at 190°C/375°F. I had to reduce the cooking time considerably and went from overcooked to undercooked before getting them the way I liked them. My advice is to stand in front of that oven and watch those suckers closely after the first ten minutes. If you are not quite sure, open the oven and shake the pan a little. If the whites are solid it is already too late. They need to wobble a little, but not too much (because there is nothing I dislike more than runny, slimey whites).

Pasta with swordfish & toasted pistachio and breadcrumbs

I consider myself a positive and pretty optimistic person. My glass is mostly half full, not half empty. I usually wake up with a smile and like to look at what is good in my life rather than what isn't.

Today, however is an especially good day. A celebration of coming home.

This morning I got a phone call from my close friend Y. Some of you may remember my post mentioning her husband was being readmitted to the hospital to fight his ongoing battle against leukemia last month. She called to tell me that after a cycle of chemio and more, he is on his way home right now as I write. This guy is going back home to his wife, his two little children and all that is familiar to him. No more IVs, no more sterile room, just rooms full of toys, the everyday disorder of a house full of kids, laughter and love. Nothing sterile there.

There is no feeling in the world like coming home. I am sure he would agree if you asked him that. The feeling of being somewhere where everything is familiar, from the books to the photographs to the smell. Have you ever noticed how all homes have a unique smell? Home is where you can walk around in the dark and not bump into any furniture (unless you are pregnant). Home is the place where you know where each and every crack and worn spot is, those tiny imperfections that your guests may not notice but that scream out to you every time you walk into a room.

But coming home is also in the embrace of the person you love after a bad day in the office or an argument you had the day before (wait, didn't we all swear we would never go to bed angry at each other?).

Coming home is the feeling of familiarity you have walking through streets where you recognize faces, stores and sounds even if you have been away for a long time.

Home is watching your red-cheeked, open-mouthed children sleeping in their beds, on an airplane, in a car or anywhere, as long as you are there together.

Home is unexpectedly tasting something you haven't had since your grandmother made it for you when you were a child and that you have never been able to recreate in your own kitchen.

Coming home is wonderful, it is the feeling of being safe and loved like nowhere else, and we must never take it for granted, even when we are itching to go.

What is home for you?

This dish may have tasted a little like home to F, with its flavors so reminiscent of the Mediterranean. It is full of the sun, the sea and the colors of the islands.

I was inspired by a tray of swordfish in pieces at the market. I usually do not buy things that are prepared in advanced or pre-cut, say pre-filleted chicken breast or pork loin, because they are much more expensive and often not  as appealing. However the idea of cooking with what were probably the trimmings from perfectly cut fish filets and the less noble parts did appeale to me. First of all, with wild fresh fish costing as much as it does, you don't just go out and buy four huge swordfish or tuna stakes for a simple week night dinner with the kids, if you know what I mean. Plus, I felt it was an environmentally friendly choice to use up all parts of the animal, those parts that are discarded just because they aren't the right width or shape. When you are making a pasta sauce, you want the tastier, fattier part of the fish and you will be needing smaller pieces anyway. I will keep my eyes open for these cuts from now on.

Easter egg brownies for grown ups

If you are anything like me, this post may be a tad late because this is a recipe to use up some of that left over chocolate from Easter. If you have any left over, that is.

Now I am the perfect mom, only allowing my kids a few pieces of their chocolate Easter eggs here and there. To then sit in front of the TV while they are in bed chomping on their goodies. I know, I know... but what goes better with gilded uniforms, diamond tiaras, white gloves and lace sealed with a kiss in front of a cheering crowd then that sugary goodness?

Ok, I actually watched the royal wedding of the decade in the office with a bunch of colleagues, some (men) feigning disinterest but nonetheless peaking at Kate, Will, Pippa & Co. (especially Pippa). After all, we do work in an investment bank and it was a bank holiday across the Channel so our phones and emails on Friday were pretty dead as a result.  

I did however stuff my face nibble on my childrens' Rapunzel and Barbapapa chocolate eggs during a few episodes of Glee.

 

So now you understand why it was essential for me to get rid of that stash immediately. Problem being, I do not bake with milk chocolate. I started searching the Internet thinking I would just come up with tooth-achingly sweet recipes only suitable for kids. Not so. With a little research and some tweaking here and there, I actually made something much more grown up and healthy than I expected (with an added bonus: the kids liked it too).

There is no butter in this recipe, the moistness coming from the Greek yogurt, but it is rich and dense, the sweetness mainly coming from the nuggets of creamy milk chocolate these brownies are studded with. If it weren't for the children, a dash of coffee would have been perfect in the batter. If you try it, let me know.

South Tyrol, life on a farm (maso)

Do you like the idea of roosters crowing, mountain bells chiming, thick slabs of rich yellow home-churned butter, foamy milk just brought in from the barn, a breakfast of home made cheese, the freshest soft boiled eggs, speck and jam and the most breathtaking mountain views from the window? Then follow me.

Carrot cake with cream cheese frosting

Did you know there is no Easter bunny in Italy (if you exclude South Tyrol, which still has strong ties with German traditions)? There are eggs, lots of them. They are baked whole into the savory torta pasqualina (Easter tart). Almost everybody, young or old, gets a chocolate egg with a hidden surprise on the inside. These eggs come in all chocolate varieties and in several sizes. There are eggs for boys, eggs for girls, fancy eggs from bakeries. Lindt eggs, Ferrero eggs, cartoon theme eggs. But there is no bunny to hide them, no sir. He hops right by Italy.

There are all kinds of other animals instead. Lambs are pleniful, as a main course and in the Sicilian marzipan version. Doves are everywhere in the guise of Colombe Pasquali, acake similar to the traditional Christmas panettone. But no Easter rabbit.

As a half American, half German Easter egg dyeing and hunting are a must. I have to let the Easter Bunny know where we are. To make sure he visits us, I baked a carrot cake, because we all know how much rabbits like carrots. A mom's gotta do what a mom's gotta do, right?

I got the recipe for the cake and the frosting from the Joy of Cooking. It is fool proof and I really mean it. I baked this before rushing out for an evening on the town with F. The recipe said 25-30 minutes. Perfect! The babysitter was on her way up when I pulled the cake out exactly 30 minutes after I put it in. It looked a little wobbly in the center, not a good sign. I tested with a toothpick and it came out clean, so I turned off the oven without second thoughts, certain it would be perfect by the time it cooled off. I was in for a surprise when I discovered in the morning that it had totally sunken in the middle and was undercooked.

I wasn't going to throw away a whole cake, rabbit or not. My only option was to stick it back into the oven. I let it bake for a good 30 more minutes and the center rose, despite leaving a sunken ring and dark edges as a reminder, just to make me feel guilty about the fun I had the night before, when I was too busy downing mojitos to tend to my children cake. While it was cooling I made the frosting, which turned out lucious and creamy. I cut off the slightly burnt edges (thus the crumbs in the frosting on the sides) and slathered it in white goodness. Helloooo Easter Bunny, here we are!

We are off to South Tyrol for Easter to look for the Easter Bunny because, after all this, we forgot to save him piece of the carrot cake. Ooops...

Happy Easter to all of you!

Peanut & toasted sesame dressing, design and more awards

Sunday was the last day of the Salone del Mobile, the international design fair, which is a very interesting event indeed, but overcrowded and not a place to go with children and strollers. The atmosphere is totally different at the Fuori Salone, events and locations open to the public all over the town, many of which in the more artsy and emerging areas of the city.

(The pictures were all taken with my cell phone).

  

In good weather, it is a great way to take a stroll and let the kids run around and wonder at all the colorful and bizzarre creations while parents get an idea of the creative juices flowing outside nurseries and a whiff of their distant life of exhibits, cocktails and designer objects.

It is exciting to discover yet another facet of the place you live, new buildings (finally!) being constructed in abandoned industrial areas and sites of a city that, despite being one of the design capitals of the world, has shown little urbanistic innovation in the past decades. As always, food was present too, in one way or the other.

And since it is spring and we are talking of ideas and creations from all over the world, here is a very simple yet fabulous idea I got from Design, Wine & Dine. It is a peanut sesame dressing you can use on salads or any other kind of vegetable and it is delicious. I think I would like it on just about anything, even my bare fingers.

Paste di Mandorla for zio Filippo

I probably shouldn't call these paste di mandorle because technically they aren't.

But let me start from the beginning.

On Wednesday zio Filippo (F's uncle) passed away. It was in the air, I woke up feeling a little melanchonic. I just didn't have it in me to write anything funny or cutesy. But you know that already if you read my last post. Then, in the evening, we got the sad news from Sicily.

Zio Filippo was no longer a young man and in the past year the C word had entered his life. Despite this, his death took us by surprise. It is not that long ago that I remember him working his piece of land, telling us about the many fruits his plants were bearing, the plants he tended to with great love and care. He loved food and cooking and often sent us things he had picked, prepared with his own hands or delicacies he had discovered in the surrounding area. He loved to read, he loved theater and music. I have fond memories of him singing a beautiful aria one evening shortly after our wedding. That night food was plenty, wine was flowing in copious amounts and by the end of the evening both my relatives and F's had taken turns singing and reciting poems and not an eye was dry. It was beautiful, a memory I will always cherish.

But the thing zio Filippo loved above all, after his family of course, was his island, so ruggedly beautiful, so rich in history and art, so misunderstood and plagued by the corruption of few.

My in-laws were already on their way to Sicily when the news came and attended the funeral yesterday for all of us. F lit a candle in church and I left the office a little early to make these sweets for him. While his grandson, the one named after him and who is following in his footsteps pursuing a military career, was reading a letter about him to a crowd in Trapani and F was lighting the wick, I was mixing the ingredients, the essence of Sicily. Whilst grinding the almonds I started thinking of the beauty of the blooming trees, while I was zesting the lemon I thought of the island's clear waters, the crisp blue sky, the winds from Africa. I thought of zio Filippo, his bushy eyebrows, his family, the many children and grandchildren he left behind. I thought that he had done good, that he had had a full rich life, no regrets. I thought of his wife, zia Lina, of the first time I saw her making paste di mandorle in my mother in law's kitchen and of how hard it must be for her. They were married for more than half a century.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I realized too late that I had skipped an important step. I forgot to beat the egg whites. I just mixed them in! I baked the cookies anyway, determined to make these in Filippo's memory and honor. I'm glad I did, because they turned out delicious anyway. They were chewy and full of flavor. Perhaps they didn't rise as much and they were chewy and soft instead of being slighty cakeu and moist, but every bite was still a bite of Sicily.

Per te, zio Filippo.


I got the recipe from Manu's Menu.
This is a vegetarian recipe, it uses up those left over egg whites in your freezer, it has just four ingredients and it is gluten free. What are you waiting for?