Spaghetti with clams and roasted fennel* - for my munchkin

Dear Munchkin,

yesterday you climbed onto a doubledecker bus with a big toothless smile and drove away.

Five years ago you were barely a baby and now you are hundreds of kilometers away with your friends, laughing and playing and chatting a mile a minute.

When I got back from the office, I came across the pink mug with your name on it, the one you use to drink your milk at breakfast. I picked it up and held it in my hands and felt my chest tighten a bit. It is normally so easy to just reach out and touch you, but now all I can do is caress its smooth surface.

Don't worry, I am not sad, I know you are in good hands and that you are having the time of your life. A few days ago, when I was kissing you good night and I told you I would miss you, you took my face in your hands and said: "don't worry Mommy, I will only be gone five days and then it will be the week end and we will have two whole days together". When did you grow up and become so wise?

How are you suddenly old enough to leave with your own suitcase that holds 6 plastic bags, one for each day, with your name on it and a full change of clothes (including your cupcake underwear) and an extra bag for disco night, with a fancy dress and tights in it? 

Your brother didn't really seem to notice you were gone and got extra cuddles and attention, but the apartment seems quiet. While I was brushing his teeth I wondered whether you were brushing yours alone or if your teacher was helping you. While I was changing his diaper I glanced over at your bed. It was intact, each and every pillow in the right place. I felt that pang again. That is when the little one seemed to finally catch on. He walked over to your bed and tried to climb onto it, repeating your name over and over. He had a hard time falling asleep, there were a lot of tears. It was the fifth time in his life he was sleeping without you (and the first three he was in the hospital with me and barely knew you - or me - yet).

Did you sleep well my love? Were you homesick? Today I am calling you at 2:00pm. The teachers thought it best not to call the first day, so you could get settled. They strategically picked the afternoon so you little guys would be distracted by all the planned activities after speaking to us.

What are you doing this morning? Are you hiking up the mountain with the secret map? Are you playing on the shores of the lake? Or are you taking that boatride you were so excited about?

Whatever you are doing my love, have fun. Laugh until your tummy hurts, run until your cheeks turn pink and your hair looks even crazier than it usually does. Even if a teeny irrational part of me wants you to be a little homesick, the truth is I know you are probably not and that you are having the time of your life and this makes me happy. Because it means that you feel loved at home, that you know that we are waiting for you no matter how far away you are and that our love makes you feel safe enough to spread your wings and fly.

My daughter is away at a program called Scuola Natura organized by the Italian public school system to take kids on a nature trip for a week. Our school was picked at the last minute so there was not much time to get organized before departure. Which is a good thing if you are asking me, because: a) my daughter would have burst with the excitement of leaving if she would have had to wait even just a day longer; b) it didn't give us parents too much time to agonize before they left (as some of you know, this was the second night my daughter was ever spending away from us). The organizational aspect was quite intricate as you can imagine, considering it involved preparing for a 5-year old to be away for five whole days filled with several activities. Besides the clothes bags I mentioned above with names and hand written notes of their content and an endless list of accessories to prepare, it involved (among other things):

- decorating a treasure box together with your child to take along to store material and souvenirs

- organizing a cell phone card to give the teacher to use for phone calls and calling procedures

- a meeting with the teacher and parents

- writing addresses on adhesive labels and buying stamps for postcards

- preparing an envelope with spending money in small bills

- writing a personal letter to the teacher describing your child' everyday habits and bedtime routines to   make them feel at home as much as possible

Here is a recipe that my little girl really enjoyed the night before leaving. Hope you enjoy it too. 

*For those of you who do not like fennel, roasting it totally erases that aniseed flavor and makes it soft and sweet, almost like a roasted onion. You have to try it to believe it.

Roasted fingerling potato and leek soup with spinach

You know how some weeks are just much busier than others? Well, last week was one of those weeks.

On Monday my daughter's school held its spring fundraising party, on Tuesday she had her vaccinations, yesterday we had a class meeting to discuss an upcoming trip (more on that soon - this alone generated a whole new level of matters to tackle), the elementary school she is starting in the fall called to fix an appointment for orientation (which we luckily managed to move). All of these happenings naturally took place during office hours. On top of this, Italian listed companies are reporting their first quarter results this week making it extremely hectic at work and the husband is away on a business trip.

Yesterday was also nail-cutting night.

Yes, nail cutting. If you are wondering why the heck that would even be worth mentioning, you are not a mom. Cutting the nails on four little hands and four little feet in constant movement is no easy task. Even worse when those feet are ticklish or those hands are scared of scissors. To top it all off, for those of you who aren't informed, the speed in nail growth is inversely proportional to the child's age: the younger they are, the quicker they seem to grow. So half of the time, you feel like you gave birth to Struwwelpeter.

As a result it has been a week of simple meals. In my usual quest to feed my kids as many vegetables as possible I made a your classic potato and leek soup with a few handfuls of spinach in it. What made it special was the roasted leftover fingerlings I used in it. Boy did that take it to another level.

You can have it warm and simply call it potato and leek soup or be fancy and have it cold as a Vichyssoise. I promise you, you'll love it either way.

I don't know about you, but I have been having some trouble with blogger the last few days, making it impossible to post or comment. Many comments on my last post were deleted in the process, but for those of you who left them, I want you to know I did read them and answer them. Thanks.

Mango & cucumber salad with Pimenton de la Vera

Robert De Niro is standing in the kitchen. He is suspiciously eyeing the door to the hallway. Everything is quiet. He stands and waits. He looks tense. Then he takes two steps back and opens my oven, pulls out some foccaccia and just as he is about to bite into, it my boss walks in a grabs it from him. That is when the crickets start.

Chirp chirp chirp

Why are crickets singing if it is the middle of the day in Milan? And why am I wondering about the crickets instead of questioning why Bobby is sharing foccaccia with my boss in the my kitchen?

Chirp chirp chirp

I open my eyes in the semi-dark room and reach out to turn off the alarm on my iphone. 5:55am. Time to get my big butt out of bed and go running. I really don't feel like going. My running partner isn't coming this morning and I am ever so tempted to nestle in my duvet and sleep in for another half hour. Then I remember that pistachio-filled chocolate I greedily inhaled nibbled on last night while watching the William & Kate E special and know I have no excuse. On top of it all, it is light out these days and perfect running temperature.

Left-right-left-right-left-right.

I need to do this. I am nearing forty, I had two children plus two C-sections, I have a food blog for God's sake. I have to run by that tree and the homeless guy who says "ciao" everytime I pass only one more time and I am done.

Left-right-left-right-left-right.

This is for you, so I can keep on baking new cakes and conjuring up new recipes involving the likes of chocolate, nuts, cream, cheese and butter.

How do you food lovers and bloggers stop the calories from leaving their mark on your waistline? I know at least one of you uses a treadmill. If you are the kinda person who has a fabulous, quick burning metabolism, please abstain from shoving it in our faces leaving a comment.

This is a non-recipe, a mere idea, because I can use some healthy, fresh foods instead of calorie-laden desserts (ignore the foccaccia, ribs and olive rolls); because it is spring; because my son has lately vetoed vegetables and I am trying to get him to eat his share of vitamins and to learn that salads can be fun; because when you are in a rush this takes about 5 minutes to prepare and it is sweet, spicy (the kids got a mild version), crunchy and refreshing.

 

If you love the idea of using mango for more than dessert, here is another fabulous salad. A little more labor intensive but fit for any dinner party.

Adapted from Muy Bueno Cookbook

Ingredients

3 cucumbers, peeled

1 ripe mango, peeled

Pimenton de la Vera, habanero or other chili powder

olive oil

salt

lime juice

 

Peel and dice the cucumbers and mango. Dress with oil and lime juice (but lemon juice or cider vinegar will do too) and salt and sprinkle over some hot chili powder. If you have cilantro, I would definitely use that too.

Heavenly pistachio butter cups (and recipe for pistachio butter and paste)

Yesterday we participated in an event called Bimbimbici (children on bikes) organized by an association that is trying to make Italian cities more bike friendly. It was a beautiful day and since we recently bought our daughter a new bike it seemed like the perfect occasion to take her out for a ride. A friend kindly lent us a bike with child seat (mine broke and I haven't replaced it yet) and so our youngest also got his first chance to ride on the back of my bike.

Needless to say he loved it and had a smile stamped on his face for most of the ride (expect when the many bikes had to turn into a smaller street making us stand in the scorching sun for a few minutes; he was quick to let everyone know how unhappy he was). Our daughter could not believe that she could finally get off the sidewalk and ride in the middle of the street, with actual policemen standing all over stopping cars to let us pass.

My husband was especially happy pedalling around town looking at all the black and red flags hanging out of windows, after his soccer team won the Serie A title on Saturday night.

So to celebrate I made this little treat for him. The man loves pistachios and Reeses' almost as much as his team and always fights the temptation of bringing back a few suitcases of the latter whenever we travel to the States. I read this wonderful recipe a while back on Heavenly Housewife's blog and fell in love instantly. I went out and bought a few bags of pistachios and have been waiting for the time and occasion to make these.


What can I say? It is impossbile for the combination of dark chocolate (I adapted the recipe and only used 70% chocolate instead of a mix if semi sweet and milk chocolate) and pistachio not to be sublime. Of course now that my husband know these can be made at home instead of in some magical secret laboratory somewhere in the US, he will be expecting peanut butter cups too. Good wife that I am, how can I not oblige him? ;o)
 

 

My advice is not to make these because they are addictive. But if you really want to (don't say I didn't warn you), the first step in this recipe is making a lovely pistachio butter by toasting the nuts until your kitchen smells delicious and then grinding them to a luscious green spread. You can make a lot of it like I did and store it in your fridge in a sealed jar to use in a pasta sauce or to smother onto crostini. By adding sugar and butter you will get an even better pistachio paste to fill these cups. I have some of this left too and I intend to try making some other form of dessert with it.
 

 

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.