Chocolate ganache tart with hazelnut crust and chocolate glaze - Help Japan

Posting about a dessert when tragedy has hit my fellow humans in such enormous proportions seems terribly superficial. Talking about ganache and toasting hazelnuts seems inappropriate when what I am really thinking about are my close friends facing yet another difficult health-related challenge. Beating eggs while history is being rewritten right across the Mediterranean seems silly.

The truth is that no matter in what proportions tragedy hits, whether macro or micro, life goes on. Life made up of small gestures like going to work, preparing a meal or picking up your kids from school. These are the things that keep you grounded when your own life has been overturned. We all see enough images of tragedy on the evening news, on the Internet, photographed on newspapers. And lets face it, even if something is not splattered across the front pages of the papers and we go on living our everyday lives, there is still something terrible happening somewhere to someone, for such is life.

I realize this is not the place to discuss the tragedies of our planet. People clicking onto my blog don't need to hear more about them, they come here to get an idea for dinner, but also for distraction, to escape everyday life for a few minutes, or so I like to think. I made lasagne with pesto without commenting on our Prime Minister's frolicking, I baked chocolate chip cookies while dictators were being overthrown and uttered not a word. But sometimes it is impossible to ignore what is happening outside, in the real world. So forgive my digression. This is my ode to normality.

Perhaps rolling out dough and following precise steps can be soothing, can momentarily distract from painful thoughts, can help bring back a touch of normality to someone's home.

For us, this cake was a celebration of friendship. We shared it with good friends and thought of other good friends who are not close enough to come by for a cup of coffee, a slice of cake and some words of comfort. Being close to people you love, family or friends, enjoying their company in a warm home while it is raining outside is a privilege we must never take for granted. So if you make this, promise me you will savor every bite. Think of the earthquake victims. Think of a loved one going through a rough time. And maybe bring them a slice, even just with your thoughts. I know I did.

Adapted from Dulce Delight. 

With this cake I am participating in the online bake sale for Japan promoted by The Tomato Tart. Sabrina is the mind behind this fabulous idea, a way to try to help support Japan in its darkest hour. I am so happy she has offered me the opportunity to contribute somehow. The auction  proceeds will be donated to Second Harvest Japan, a food bank that is working right now to respond to the immediate needs of the people displaced by this disaster. Whoever is interested in participating, please contact Sabrina directly through her blog. She was very helpful and promptly replied to all my questions.

Sour cream & olive oil banana muffins and my promise to you

This is a healthier version of the banana bread muffin I posted about a while ago. But wait!!! Don't go just because I said the word healthy! I hereby promise I will never post a "healthy" recipe unless it tastes really good and somewhat sinful. I am the kinda girl who believes that to call something dessert, it needs its fair share of butter, sugar and - more often than not - chocolate. If I'm gonna have dessert, it has to be worth the calories.

Now, I am by no means against using the occasional whole grains, dried fruits, apple sauce, honey or yogurt, as substitutes, but it is more for depth of flavor and interesting textures. Sure, your young ones will not be able to tell the difference and if you are feeding them cake, muffins or cookies on a daily basis, by all means make it a healthy snack. But in my world treats are called treats because they are supposed to be special (and not something you indulge in all the time) and a little butter and sugar will not hurt anybody. If you want healthy, give your kid an apple! Because the truth is, no matter how good a healthy cookies is and no matter how hard you try to convince me, it will never have the buttery sweetness of the real thing. And a gooey, rich homemade brownie is still a million times better for your children than the candy, soda and tons of other junk food kids are consuming daily all over the world. Especially if you bake it together as a family.

In these muffins, out go the chocolate chips and almonds of my other post, in come sour cream (yes, I am still buying tons of it to make sure my local supermarket keeps stocking up in the belief that all customers are loving this new and quite exotic product) and olive oil.

Believe me when I say you will not miss the butter in the least and the sour cream makes these the moistest muffins I have baked so far.

Last but not least, after a few requests and in an attempt to facilitate readers, I created a page with links to several conversion tables for any doubts you may have while trying out these recipes from all continents!

Carnival and orata al cartoccio - Sea bream wrapped and baked in foil

Yesterday was Martedì Grasso, better known as Mardi Gras or Fat/Shrove Tuesday in English. Cities dressed up and partied all over the world and people feasted, drank and danced to their heart's delight.

Having grown up in Venice, Carnival triggers a lot of memories of childhood pranks, costumes, dancing in the squares of the floating city, fingers sticky from fried, sugary delights throwing confetti up into the air.

In Milan, Carnival starts later than the rest of the world because the city follows the Ambrosian rite (named after Saint Ambrose, the fourth Century bishop of Milan who is also the city's patron saint) instead of the Roman rite. There are several differences in the liturgical year, one of them being that Lent starts four days later than in the Roman rite so that there is no Ash Wednesday, and Carnival continues until sabato grasso (literally Fat Saturday in Italian). In the past, much of Northern Italy celebrated Carnival following the Ambrosian rite, but nowadays only Milan and a few nearby towns and cities follow this tradition.

That is why my daughter's carnival party in kindergarden is today. Her class' theme is wild animals and she chose to be a lion. Teachers insist on not buying costumes (we are only allowed to recycle material) and taking the time to work on a family project together. A terrific idea, except I am the world's worst sewer. My fingers are crossed that the mane does not fall of the mask we painted together (I actually only helped with some of the black outlines) and that the tail I made with fabric and yarn does not unravel on her walk to school.

She painted it all by herself.

As many of you already know, I go to the office at the crack of dawn, so my husband F has morning duty with the kids taking them to school whilst I have afternoon duty picking them up. It ensues that a mask was a must, it was inconceivable that my husband paint my daughter's face at 8:00am. We thought it would at least be nice - and easy - to draw a little nose and some whiskers on her cheeks as she will not be wearing her mask the whole day.

So last night we had dress rehearsals and I showed my husband again how to snap on the very basic fur tunic I made (a crooked rectangle of fabric with no hems and one lone snap), how to tie on the tail (a strip of fabric that is supposed to be a belt with another long strip of fabric stiched onto it). Believe me when I say it is rustic. I then proceeded to draw a nose and whiskers on my daughter and told him where the eyepencil was in case I forgot to leave it out in my sleepy 6:00am mode.

Surely enough, this morning I got a phone call in the office. It was my husband hollering in my ear that he couldn't find the brown pencil, that he hates doing this stuff, that he knows nothing about make up etc. 

My mistake, I said I would leave it out for him. I used it and put it back into the glass where I keep such things. (I would love to mention that there are only 2 glasses in the bathroom, not 10. In them are eye pencils, scissors, mascara, an eyelash curler that I haven't used since 1987 and an eyebrow brush. Nothing more and nothing less. I also would be tempted to tell you that I remembered a whole other bunch of things at 6:15am like preparing the boy's clean bibs for daycare and his change of clothes. And last but not least I wish I could point out that my DH rolled his eyes when I told him where the pencil was last night. But I won't because I am a loving wife).

So as my daughter runs around roaring at her friends and my husband relaxes in front of his computer after another crazy morning of parenting (he is a wonderful dad and I am eternally grateful that he is not the stereotypical Italian man) I give you the simplest of ideas. A different way to cook fish now that Lent has started if you want to be traditional, or a healthy alternative to your usual recipes.

For those of you who do not know what pesce (fish) al cartoccio means, it is the process of cooking a whole small to medium-sized fish or individual filets wrapped in parchment paper or aluminum foil with seasoning and some form of liquid, allowing it to cook in the aromatic steam.

(My) Clooney's Nutella-filled butter cookies

Yesterday we had a picnic at George Clooney's.

  

 I didn't say we actually shared sandwiches and camembert with him, but we did take a drive to Lake Como, we sat and gazed at the amazing view (not Clooney, for all I know he is not even around right now) from Cernobbio, fed the ducks and swans with our left-over bread and then drove by his 100% paparazzi proof gates villa. It was a beautiful, warm and sunny day, the real first hint of spring we have had this winter.

I baked these sweets for my very own George Clooney, my handsome Italian husband, the only man I have eyes for (although I will admit I frequently eyed the motorcycles riding by our car and craned my neck to see where the basketball court of Laglio is, where George is rumored to play with the locals).

But back to the cookies. For someone who declared not to be much of a cookie baker, I have been on quite a roll lately. It all started because I had a whole, new jar of Nutella sitting in my kitchen that I had bought when I was caught up in the excitement of the Nutella muffins I made a while back.

Now, you must know there is a favorite cookie in Italy called Grisbì that has a lovely soft, Nutella-like center. For some reason I decided I wanted to attempt making them on Friday night, I was set on creating a button of rich, buttery dough that hid a creamy nutty, chocolatey heart. I searched online and found just a few, very approximate recipes. I proceeded to make them quickly, by hand. They turned out rustic and moreish and oh, so good.

Both kids loved them (have I mentioned that my daughter is not a cake/muffin lover and only eats about 10% of what I bake these days?) and my husband F asked me last night if I could pretty please make them again...not bad eh?

Lemon & anchovy pork (or veal) meatballs

What a perfect Sunday.

We got up after a good night's sleep, had a nice breakfast and went to visit the new Museo del Novecento, which was inaugurated a few months ago right in the central Piazza Duomo of Milan. Since Milan was appointed to host the Expo 2015, there has been a feeling of change, renovation and excitement in the air. The city, whose skyline is currently crane-infested like a miniature Berlin, is undergoing a long-needed makeover.

In this mindframe, the museum offered free entrance to its collections of Twentieth Century Italian art for two months, but we of course waited until the second-to-last day (and last Sunday and right in the midst of Fashion week may I add) to try to go. This is the first real attempt we have made to go to an art museum since our second child was born.

With one it worked fabulously: it was cute, people smiled and nudged each other, admiring the oh-so-perfect parents teaching their daughter to appreciate the arts and different cultures at a very young age. With two, not so much. There is a lot of crying, whining and snotty noses. The older child wants to sit in the stroller, the younger one wants out. Both want to be carried, jealousy ensues. Four hands touching and grabbing suddenly seem five times as many as two hands to control. And siblings have the tendency to egg each other on when bored or tired (remember sis?). Suddenly you are the pariah, the family that should keep those noisy, spoiled kids at home. Crowded museums and restaurants, the magic combination of many a relaxed week end as a couple, are now a recipe for disaster. Especially in a city where even being intellectual is a fashion, where your average museum dwellers are uber trendy couples, the we-do-not-want-children-especially-after-seeing-you-today kind.

Anyway, back to my story. We thought we would take advantage of our early mornings to get to the museum before the crowds. Who stands in piazza Duomo on a cold, grey Sunday morning before 10:00am? Everybody, apparently. When we got there, the line was so long it went all the way around the building and through the piazza, at least a 2 to 3 hour wait. Thank goodness a friend had told me strollers had precedence because it was one of the few times (including boarding planes) that I was happy to have a stroller to lug around. Surely enough, in a country where very little is tailored towards families and children, in we zipped under the astonished looks of the throngs of people standing behind the ropes.

The doorman warned us it would be crowded upstairs and it was, but it worked out well anyway. We spent a little over an hour walking through the building, just enough time to check out the architecture and some of the paintings. To discuss colours, materials and subjects with our daughter. To have her loudly point out every intimate detail of each and every painting or sculpture. As the tour continued, the childrens' interest and attention ebbed so we were glad to reach the large area on top where they could run around a little amidst the Fontana sculptures and the large windows overlooking the piazza. After this I started handing out hidden breadsticks and announced to my husband we had just enough time to escape, give or take five minutes if we let the kids push the buttons in the elevator. We succeeded and went for a nice lunch at the Panino Giusto right next door and then home just before the rain hit.

In the afternoon, as my little boy slept and dreamt of Boccioni and Pelizza da Volpedo and my daughter and husband drew at the kitchen table, I made these meatballs (or rather patties since I made them a little larger than usual). They are adapted from a Nigel Slater recipe I found on the blog 'Too Many Chefs' years ago. Every bite just melts in your mouth, with a nice citrusy punch and savory touch from the anchovies. They have become a favorite at our house. Why not make them a favorite at yours?

Chewy chocolate & peanut butter chip cookies

You may have noticed I am not a big cookie baker. Cookies are fickle, they never seem to turn out exactly the way I want them to or expect them to. Cookies are time consuming, with all those different batches to prepare and cool and I just don't have enough of it these days. I had a big bag of chocolate and peanut butter chips that I bought in NY hanging out in my cupboard, patiently waiting, but I was just not inspired and did not want to begin the quest for the perfect chocolate chip cookie, the endless search it seems every blogger starts at some point in his/her blogging history. Should  I use the NY Times Torres recipe or the Toll House recipe? What chocolate is best? How long should I chill the dough?

 And then I saw the recipe for Big, Fat, Chewy Chocolate Chip Cookies posted just the other day by Sing for your Supper and the photographs were so enticing I just couldn't resist, I had to try it. Oh my, those pictures...

I made a batch of larger ones and a batch of smaller ones. The result was great, I finally baked a wonderfully chewy chocolate chip cookie.

But...

There is always a 'but' when  baking cookies, something that needs to be changed or improved. Despite my cookies being good enuogh to become a staple household recipe, they looked nothing like the cookies in the pictures. Where were those fat, chunky cookies? Those pictures will haunt me until I succeed.

Teriyaki glazed salmon

Oh. My. Goodness.

This is one of the best things I have cooked, no, had lately.  And it took me under 10 minutes to make (excluding the salmon's cooking time) without buying any new ingredients. Who knew teriyaki was so easy?

Thanks to Hunger and Sauce, I discovered my new favorite way to make fish, meat or whatever else I can smother in this delectable sauce. It is perfect for a week night meal (like ours) but just as good to impress guests.

Hunger and Sauce also suggested using the left over sauce, diluted with some water, to dress up some vegetables, rice or noodles. Too bad F practically licked off every last drop from the baking dish there were no leftovers to speak of...but hey, maybe next time?

Today I am giving it another try: I took the day off from work so ciao, off to have me some girly fun! Have a great week end, possibly in the company of this dish. You won't regret it.

Ingredients

a large salmon fillet (or other fatty fish)

a pinch of sesame seeds, toasted

Sauce:

4 tbsp soy sauce

1 tbsp Mirin

a thumb-sized knob of fresh grated ginger

4 tbsp brown sugar

pepper

Preheat your oven to 180°C. Combine all the sauce ingredients in a small sauce pan (I was out of fresh ginger so I used dry ginger instead) and start mixing over a medium flame until the sauce reduces to a syrupy consistency. Brush over the fish and bake in the oven. We prefer to undercook our salmon so I did not leave it in long. Also, do not forget the sauce is hot when you brush it on and that that will start cooking the fish before you even put it in the oven. Before serving sprinkle over some previously toasted sesame seeds.