Category Archives: Food

“That Welsh rabbit was ginger peachy.” ~ Meet Me In St. Louis

Often referred to as ‘Welsh rabbit’ or ‘Welsh rarebit’, this is the famous appetizer mentioned in the holiday classic ‘Meet Me in St. Louis’ and I finally got around to making it. I used this Food Network recipe by Alton Brown, which seemed like a strong foundation upon which to begin. It’s quite simple if you have all the ingredients (I had to get a can of Guiness for the 1/2 cup of beer required, but all the rest was on hand.) It’s basically a deconstructed grilled cheese sandwich of sorts, a bit of a béchamel with beer and dijon mustard for some kick, and couple drops of hot sauce to liven it up. Personally, I found it a little bland, and if I ever do this one again (most likely for a lark at a dinner party) I will be sure to tinker around a bit to give it some additional oomph). Otherwise, served over a bed of toasted rye bread, this makes for a decent winter treat after a bout of shoveling or ice skating or skiing or fill-in-the-blank-with-another-winter-activity-in-which-I-will-not-be-participating.

Side-note: there is no meat, rabbit or otherwise, in this dish. Google the reasons how it got the nickname. I’m in a post-holiday spell of laziness.

Other side-note: When Andy came into the kitchen and surveyed the dish, he simply remarked, “Somebody threw up on a plate” then walked out. 

Soup season is on, and the inaugural experiment was this basic vegetable soup, to which I added some udon noodles and soft-boiled eggs at the end. The beginning was how most soups began – with carrots, onions, and celery. For some heat, I dropped a dried guajillo chili into the pot, then some crushed red pepper flakes, salt, black pepper, and some garlic and ginger. Rounding out the vegetables were some baby boy choy, tomatoes, green beans, and peas. Boiled it gently for about 40 minutes and it was ready. Added the udon and a squeeze of fresh lemon for some bite. 

This soup was to fortify and flush my body after the double-dose of the COVID and flu vaccine, and it worked. No ill effects aside from minor sore arms which lasted about a day. Peace of mind = priceless. Happy Soup Season. 

This recipe, gleaned from the grandeur that is TikTok, originally had me skeptical, but after trying it out to great success, I’m posting it here in all its culinary blasphemy, and throwing caution to the Sandra Lee wind. It uses a box cake, and pumpkin, and melds the idea of a tres leches cake into its creation, so its wrong on just about every level you can think of, but the end result tastes oh-so-right. We don’t stand on kitchen ceremony here.

It’s a pumpkin tres leches cake, and you may find that it entirely replaces the need for the lackluster pumpkin pie that most people are simply over, particularly those who do the pumpkin thing out of obligation rather than genuine preference. It begins with a box of yellow or vanilla cake, mixed according to the instructions, then amended with an additional egg, a 15 oz can of pumpkin puree, and a tablespoon of pumpkin pie spice (or just some cinnamon and nutmeg – this is a forgiving thing). Bake that in a greased 9 x 13 inch pan at 350 degrees for 40 minutes. (You need not undercook to ensure a moist consistency – that comes later.)

After cooling for about 15 minutes, poke a bazillion holes in the cake (I used a fork and went up and down in neat little rows cause I’m a Virgo) and then cool another 15 minutes. In a bowl, mix 1 can sweetened and condensed milk, 1 can evaporated milk, and about 1/3 cup heavy cream and 1 teaspoon vanilla. Slowly pour this milk mixture (the tres leches of the title) onto the cake, allowing it to soak into every little hole. Cover and refrigerate overnight (or at least five hours).

Before serving, make the whipped topping, which is just 2 cups heavy cream, 1/3 cup powdered sugar, 1 teaspoon vanilla, and 1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice. Whip that shit into the desired consistency, firm, but not butter-firm (kinda the state of my ass these days) and spread it out atop the cake (the whipped topping, not my ass). 

This was an absolute hit with my family, including my niece and nephew, who have given the thumbs down to my last three cake concoctions, so it’s bound to please yours. It’s November. It’s time to consider your Thanksgiving menu.  

You may have heard of a partridge in a pear tree, but have you ever found an owl in a pear? This sort of sorcery is what thrills me most about going through the simple motions of a morning. It’s a little bit of magic in a mundane task – carving out the heart of a pear before roasting – only to reveal the unexpected face of an owl. To open the mind to the possibility of such enchantments is a way of returning to childlike wonder – a portal to a more carefree time. 

To be observant is to be present on a whole different level. It allows for the space that makes room for whimsy to enter. I think we miss a lot of the beauty of the world because we are too rushed and unfocused to see how it’s all around us.

As for secret, surprise owls, that is the nature of such a magnificent creature. 

I don’t think I’ve had a cup of hot tea since April. Once spring breaks, I set the tea kettle to the side and don’t pick it up again until, well, now. That means I’ve been waiting patiently since my birthday to use this attractive tea cup that Suzie brought back from a trip to Denmark. This morning, with a fall chill in the air, and no socks on my bare feet, I switched from the iced summer smoothies to a cup of hot matcha. It was time. 

Far more than mere sustenance, a cup of tea is a ritual. Carefully executed with a calm and patient countenance, it can become an exercise in mindfulness. A lovely way to enter the day, it primes the body and the brain for whatever may come. As we claw our way through these last few days of Mercury in retrograde motion, a peaceful start to the day may make all the difference. 

Please feel free to pause in your day for a cup of tea, or just a moment of mindfulness. It’s all going so fast, and it’s going to keep going unless we all slow things down. 

Our bountiful cherry tomato harvest happily continues unabated. These luscious fruits are just the latest from only two cherry tomato plants that were established in pots earlier this season. They have climbed beyond their cone-shaped support and risen to the top of our patio canopy, leaning on the poles and now the canopy for support. Together they have formed a sort of living arch, from which dangle dozens of little tomatoes, quickly ripening and filling whatever container is on hand for the harvest. I’ve been eating them uncut in a bowl with mozzarella pearls and fresh basil, coated in balsamic vinegar and olive oil. It’s a heavenly combination. Thank you summer. 

One of our favorite restaurants has been rebooted and is now under new ownership and management, so for our anniversary dinner this year I took Andy out to Rosanna’s, former site of his favorite Bongiorno’s. That was once Andy’s local hang-out, and he had spent the previous decade or so slowly pulling the recipe for Rosanna’s tomato sauce out of her own lips until he got a pretty good approximation of it for our own home. We returned there for a sweet and quiet anniversary dinner, to see what remained and what had changed. 

Beginning with the Eastside mocktail, and some calamari, the evening found us on the second floor (somewhat noisy with the hardwood floors echoing throughout and an exceptionally loud party of four women who raised the ire of the other tables more than ours) which was not our usual space on the first level. It eventually quieted down when that table departed, and by the time the food arrived our spirits had lifted. 

Andy opted for the traditional spaghetti and meatballs, which was, to Rosanna’s ongoing amusement, the choice of a ten-year-old as she once affectionately described it. He found the new version to his satisfaction, and the ravioli I tried were delicious as well. The original owners still felt present, but distant – the echoes were faint, and we talked of them to keep their memory around a bit longer. 

Dessert was lovely, and the whole evening was decent enough to merit another visit. Sometimes Albany was magical in a quiet way.

It’s been way more than a hot second since I’ve had a brownie sundae, and that was rectified this past week at an impromptu lunch. Sometimes a sundae can turn the whole day around. Usually I’m more disciplined than to allow myself such an indulgence, especially at the height of swimsuit season. These days, however, discipline just feels silly, and I’m at the age where I’d rather be happily satiated than hungering for a sweet treat. If you have an itch, why not scratch it? 

Tomato season is just about upon us. We’ve had cherry tomatoes tumbling off our trellises for days now, and the markets are just seeing the first influx of heirlooms and big boys that I don’t bother growing at home anymore. Let someone else deal with all that fuss – I’m content to purchase and pay for someone else to do the work. 

The easiest and best way to enjoy a tomato may be this classic combo of mozzarella, basil and balsamic vinegar, with a dash of olive oil and some freshly-ground pepper for good measure. It is the taste of summer, and not terribly bad for you either. Easy deliciousness for when the weather zaps all energy and fighting spirit. It can make for a light lunch, or a precursor to a heavier dinner. The possibilities are endless, unlike summer, which is decidedly all too brief.

Summer fare doesn’t come much better or brighter than a simple BLT sandwich. I made this one myself, after Andy cooked the bacon, and I didn’t toast it (much to Andy’s chagrin) because I knew it would be devoured so quickly I didn’t want the roof of my mouth to get all scratched up from the toast. Yes, that’s how my mind works. Comfort over quality, even when it’s going to get macerated and swallowed up anyway.

We don’t mess around with the BLT around here – maybe we’ll go California on its ass with some avocado once in a a great while, but for the most part we keep it simple, which keeps it good. Sometimes I’ll strip it down even further and just do a bacon, tomato and mayo sandwich. Who needs all that healthy lettuce when bacon is involved? If you’re going to do bacon, do the damn thing right. 

One of our favorite summer dinners is a simple plate of grilled scallops with a few vegetables. These were brought to us from our dear friend Ali, fresh from the Atlantic, and we froze half of the batch to bring them out for just such an afternoon. Andy put them together using just olive oil, salt and pepper – and I quickly sautéed some sugar snap peas in olive oil and butter, sprinkling some sea salt and black pepper on them as they cooked. A spicy addition of some Moroccan-flavored carrots and potatoes rounded out the plate, and voila – a simple but oh-so-good summer dinner. 

I absolutely love a sweet treat after lunch or dinner, and that damn Trader Joe’s has plenty of options on that front. (Too many, quite frankly, and it takes a bit of discipline to avoid getting hooked on some delicious thing that’s only found there.) Case in point is the Ube Tea Cookie as seen here. These bite-size beauties incorporate the purple ube tuber (shout-out to the Philippines!) and some sugar and shortbread for a powdered puff of delicious sweetness. 

These are little enough to have a few at a time and not be a total glutton (assuming you can keep it to a few) and they are perfect for an afternoon snack with some tea. 

And while they are sweet, they are not too sweet, even with that glorious coating of powdered sugar. The older I get, the more I like my sweet-treats on the not-too-sweet side, which makes these little cookies practically perfect.