The Cooking Critic

I love my new air conditioner. Love it love it love it. It is my favorite thing right now (I love it even more than my new white dress that I got from H & M), and it was a long time coming. I ordered my air conditioner online in July of 2005 from evil Wal-Mart, paid far more than I intended once shipping and tax were added, and it didn’t show up until September when summer was over, and I had no use for it. I called Wal-Mart, full of self-righteousness and the knowledge that shipping a seasonal product to a person when the season is over is clearly wrong, and they should make amends.

They felt differently.

They only offered me a measly $20 discount, which they never made good on. And while I’ve heard all sorts of horror tales about Wal-Mart from the book Nickel & Dimed and the movie Wal-Mart: The High Cost of Low Price, I felt a little more outraged when it affected me personally. (That’s normal, right?) Therefore, all people should boycott Wal-Mart, if not for their general evilness, then for me and my tale of un-air-conditioned woe and sorrow!

So, anyhoo, the air conditioner was stored in my garage that September and was finally brought out of hiding when its services were needed last month. It should have been released from hibernation earlier, but previously when I opened up the box the air conditioner came in, I found its size and booklet of instructions very intimidating, so I kept putting off its installation. It took an outrageous heat wave and the help of my friend Rob to bring to fruition what should have taken place a year ago when I first ordered the damn thing.

I made Banana Bread after the air conditioner was installed simply because I can (also because I owed Rob an edible thank you, and I needed to make a July breakfast item for my blog.) The oven was on, the air conditioner was pumping, and I felt cool as can be … whenever I was in my bedroom anyways. My air conditioner doesn’t quite pump enough to cool as many square inches as it claims to on its box. But if I strategically place three fans throughout the house to push the cool air into various areas, you can almost feel a difference. And sleeping is way easier in a cool, air-conditioned bedroom than in a hot, muggy one.

Assessment: I’ve made and enjoyed many banana breads in my day, and I’ve determined that this one from the Junior League cookbook is the best. I don’t say that lightly. And since topping always makes bread taste better, I added a Streusel Topping from Family Circle. I blame the heat for the fact may streusel melded and never reached crumbly status when I mixed it together with a fork. My technique could also be at fault, but I prefer to blame the heat (and Wal-Mart too while I’m at it–why not? I’m sure I could think of a way to blame Wal-Mart for my banana bread inadequacies if I thought about it long enough.)

Also, did you know boys love banana bread? I ended up making muffins since my bread pan ran off (the floozy!), but at least this way I got to snag a few muffins for myself and share them with some male friends. Jim said he doesn’t normally care for banana bread, but he devoured mine and especially liked “the stuff on the top.” And Matt, who doesn’t like any food at all, more or less, said the muffin he ate was “like a golden biscuit.” So boys apparently love banana bread. Who knew? And here they are pictured on some hand-me-down plates from your mother.

Maggie wants the world to know she isn’t a mooch. If you look over my posts in the last couple of months, it may look like she’s constantly stopping by on the off chance that something just came out of the oven, and why doesn’t she join me for dinner? But I must set the record straight. Not only did Maggie have Shahan and I over for a meal recently, she, in fact, had me over for dinner long before I ever returned the favor.

Maggie planned the meal, set the date and I said I’d bring an appetizer—the Vegetable-Avocado Salsa I made was an easy choice. I’d been eyeing the recipe for a while; the small picture of it in the upper left-hand corner of my Complete Outdoor Living Cookbook has been beckoning to me for a long time what with its festive colors and all. I even tried once to convince my non-avocado
-enamored mother to make it and bring it to a gathering because I wanted her to report back to me on how it tasted. On top of all this, I also had some Trader Joe’s avocados—despite my love for the avocado, I always have a hard time using up the four that come in a bag, and this salsa was a way to check one of my list. The dish required no oven either, a major bonus due to a recent heat wave and lack of air-conditioning in my apartment.

So I chopped and chopped and chopped the vegetables into fine little bits but left out the avocado initially because it makes the dip soupy if it joins the party but then sits around too long. I called Maggie and told her I’d be a little late because I needed to pick up a jicama on the way to her place. Maggie responded, “A jigga-what?” And I said, “It’s a bulbous, root vegetable that has the crunch of an apple but is mostly flavorless.” “Oh,” she replied.

I picked up my jicama and added both it and the avocado to the dip at Maggie’s place. And we happily munched on the dip then happily ate up Maggie’s red wine-themed meal. I’m not sure how I only just recently discovered intimate dinner parties are a great way to spend an evening, but I did. First we had cocktails with the appetizer, next we had wine with our meal served al fresco on the patio—it included a salad topped with blue-cheese stuffed mushrooms, eggplant parmesan and strawberries soaked in red wine sauce served over ice cream. As far as I can tell, the latter is the perfect summer dessert: wonderful, unusual and no stove or oven required (the heat has made me obsessed with the last criteria of late). After the meal, Maggie read our Tarot cards, which determined Shahan will never ever find love or happiness. I fared slightly better, though the multiple reference to “moving houses” made me nervous since there’s a For Sale sign in front of my apartment complex right now that I’m not pleased about at all. But the tarot cards predicted that in the end I’d be happy with the move. Perhaps my new place will have air-conditioning?

Adjustments: I used a jalapeño instead of a serrano chile but will try the spicier latter next time. And I used frozen corn instead of fresh since I’m on a freezer initiative right now. I ignored the instructions to make your own baked tortilla chips and instead bought some blue corn Tostitos.

Assessment: Shahan called this dip “a winner” and declared it a great fancy alternative to traditional salsa or guacamole. The different textures are wonderful: soft avocados, crunchy carrots and crisp jicama (of course, now I’m looking for recipes to help me use up the rest of the jicama). Be sure to salt and pepper the salsa appropriately since the seasonings help the flavors meld. Also, Vegetable-Avocado Dip is very beautiful. And while this dish wasn’t difficult to make, there is a lot of chopping, so I’m going to say it’s relatively easy with an emphasis on the “relatively.”

Until this past Memorial Day, I’ve never attempted to make corn on the cob. There’s really no excuse for it, other than I don’t own a barbecue, so I don’t host barbecues, so I don’t make corn on the cob, which has barbecue associations for me. All the same, I think about making corn on the cob a decent bit—there are a few recipes I’ve often admired from afar, one involving a lemon-chive butter and another with a chile-salt rub. Since many of my past barbecues have involved one boyfriend or another at the helm of the barbecue, I’d run my fancy corn-on-the-cob aspirations by him first. Inevitably I received a stare that seemed to say, why would you make a lemon-chive butter or a chile-salt rub when you can have excellent corn just by throwing it on the grill or tossing it in boiling water? Or maybe the look simply said, please don’t make things more difficult than they need to be. But since boiling or grilling regular old corn doesn’t exactly capture my imagination, I lost interest in the project and couldn’t be counted on to assist with the corn. I typically ended up making dessert.

So when a Memorial Day barbecue was announced with no boyfriend in sight, I went about making the dressed up corn I’ve always contemplated: not one of the recipes mentioned above, but a Cherry Tomato and Corn Salad made from corn on the cob that’s easy to make, easy to transport and easy to eat.

Assessment: Despite the many eases associated with this corn salad and though it pains me to admit it, I have to say I see the old boyfriends point with this one. Fresh corn on the cob is really good, so why make any adjustments to it by adding a dressing that might be best described as faint? The taste of the salad was pleasant enough, but I think I might prefer my corn slathered in butter. (Of course, I also adore butter more than any person should, so you might not want to listen to me on this one.) But corn salad does have some advantages you may want to consider: A) It’s a great portable dish that requires no last minute prep and will keep you out of the host/hostesses’ hair and B) You don’t have to worry about corn all over your face and teeth like you do with corn on the cob, a difficult food to eat gracefully. Also, you could easily substitute frozen corn for the fresh and speed up this already speedy recipe even more.

There are some recipes that you will glance at and consider every time you thumb through a cookbook, yet they will never make it to your kitchen table. Honestly, I thought that would be the fate of Hearts of Palm Salad. It was interesting, but didn’t seem interesting enough to purchase ingredients I normally don’t. While I like to try new foods, I’m also keenly aware that I don’t know what I’m doing when I work with them, nor do I really know what to expect.

Then came a five-day stint with my family in Mississippi where a kind neighbor with a poultry farm (yes, I know someone who owns a poultry farm) treated us to chicken ‘n dumpling, chicken Tetrazzini and chicken salad sandwiches. I loved indulging in the heavy Southern foods, but by the time I came back to California, I was ready for something light and leafy. Once more, Hearts of Palm Salad caught my eye. Since I bore easily when it comes to salads, the idea of adding of an unusual ingredient like hearts of palm was actually appealing, and really only more so because I wasn’t entirely sure what it was. Strangely, it is what it says it is, which is the heart of cabbage palm tree—its edible core that looks not unlike a bamboo shoot. They come canned since fresh is nearly impossible to find, and since they’re soft and perfectly straight, it’s hard not to feel like a pro when chopping them up.

The flavor of hearts of palm is much like an artichoke. In fact, if you can’t find or don’t want to pay for the sometimes pricey hearts of palm, a marinated artichoke makes a good substitute. Still, I prefer the palm’s heart because it’s not as pungent. It’s got the tang without the overkill, and the texture is nice and soft with no worries about chewiness that the marinated artichoke sometimes troubles me with. Not to say the artichoke is generally troublesome. Normally I find him quite sophisticated and charming. But you don’t have to work as hard with hearts of palm who’s always laid back and never fussy. You get all the class but none of the stress of feeling like you’re socializing outside of your bracket.

Adjustments: The recipe calls for “salad herbs,” and I’m not sure if this was a vague suggestion to use whatever herbs you feel go with a salad or if there were a specific set of herbs designated for salads or maybe even a product, like jarred fines herbes. A quick Internet search provided no conclusive evidence, so I used fresh dill, which tasted good.

Assessment: This is a flavorful, spunky salad that’s not substantial enough to be a main dish but is a great accompaniment to just about anything because of both its taste and the ease in assembling it.

Either Shahan Sannossian or a character from one of his stories once said, good lavash is hard to come by. Actually, I’m sure he or his character put it far more eloquently than that, but the general idea of it stuck with me because I had never really considered lavash before. In case you have gone through your life lavash-less, it’s a thin, soft, flat bread used in wraps and often coming in large squares—it’s also called Armenian Cracker Bread and is not unlike the flour tortilla in many ways. According to Shahan or his character, lavash likes to become stale almost immediately (perhaps because it’s related in name to the cracker?) Anyhow, I tucked that bit of information about staleness away, and when I purchased some lavash recently for a picnic outing, determined the only solution to prevent stale lavash was to use the lavash in as many meals as possible pronto. A sensible solution indeed.

BLT Wraps with Tahini Sauce is one way to consume lavash, a recipe I’ve tried before. Instead of mayonnaise, perhaps my least favorite condiment and a traditional BLT accompaniment, this sandwich makes use of a slightly spicy tahini concoction (tahini is just ground sesame seeds, btw.) So you get your summery BLT but with some exotic flavor interplay.

Adjustments: I just shook in some red pepper flakes rather than measuring it out with a teaspoon since I prefer spiciness to remain a hint rather than a full-on flavor. I fried up prosciutto instead of bacon since that’s what I had on hand.

Assessment: Good, but something to do with leftover lavash rather than something to purchase lavash for.

Apparently, the world is even less interested in salads than I am. Nobody seems to care about the Broiled Shrimp and Spinach Salad I raved about recently. Or at least, few people cared enough to actually access the recipe. The much-less healthy Sausage Balls, however, are wildly popular. So since y’all like cheese and meat, I figure sugar and butter can’t be far behind. Hence, an entire entry devoted to icing.

With multiple Taurus birthdays, which timed themselves well with my practice for a cupcake competition, I’ve been trying out many different icings. Mostly buttercream in nature with an occasional ganache thrown in. Kurt says I’m “a bit dorky” for entering a cupcake competition, but I think most people would have no problems with the fact that I’m bringing more iced cupcakes into the world. You have to make the world a better place somehow. Angelina Jolie helps the children of Namibia; I bake cupcakes then sloppily ice them.

I started with this basic buttercream recipe that we regularly use in my family, and for my first effort turned it into a Peanut Butter Icing by substituting the peanut butter for the butter. I also added lots of salt because I can’t stand super-sweet peanut butter. I made a Chocolate Glaze to complement it (2 cups melted semi-sweet chocolate chips with 1 cup cream whisked in until smooth), and then swirled the glaze and the icing on top the cupcake to make a cupcake version of the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. Mmm, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cupcakes.

I decided to turn another batch of buttercream icing into Chai Icing by adding cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, ginger, even some crushed black tea leaves—though sadly, didn’t bother with measurements. It was an unusually spicy and mysterious icing. I’m trying to think of its female celebrity equivalent. Grace Kelly? Sophia Loren? Hmm, not sure. But it would go well with a pear or apple cake.

Next up was a White Chocolate Ganache. This was my first foray into ganache-making, which typically consists of heated cream, some form of chocolate and a liqueur mixed in. I’ll be visiting ganache again. As much as I love buttercream, ganache was a nice way to mix things up, especially when it topped a thin layer of raspberry preserves or lemon curd.

Maple Syrup Icing is next on the icing queue (possibly with some stewed apples mixed in or used for garnish), and then I think I will be cupcaked out. I may even be forced to eat another salad….

If you take a look at my last few posts, you’ll see I’ve been subsisting on cheese, brunch foods and dessert. I suspect my recent eating habits don’t make for a well-balanced diet. As much as I wish brunch foods and desserts had their own little slot on the food pyramid, it’s probably best they don’t. I blame my food intake for my feelings of sluggishness and general ickiness and determined it was high time I ate a salad.

Evidently the universe thought I should eat a salad too because the cosmos aligned so that I rediscovered a Broiled Shrimp and Spinach Salad recipe and happened to have all the ingredients already in my kitchen, surprisingly since shrimp, green beans and fresh dill are not normally staples for me. Therefore, I declare Broiled Shrimp and Spinach Salad a small miracle.

I went about chopping green onions and squeezing lemon with high hopes for this salad. I suspected it would be exactly what I needed to combat the ill effects of my recent sugar overdose and taste fabulous. But immediately after thinking this, I determined I just jinxed my salad. There was no way it could live up to my unreasonable expectations since I do, in fact, have a habit of anticipating far more amazing things than is really fair for the object of my expectations. (Movies and boys are routine disappointments because of this.) But, I needn’t have worried–my expectations were met. The shrimp makes this salad substantial, the green beans add just the right crunch (had I not slightly overcooked them), the lemony dressing is zippy but balanced by the fresh dill. In short, happiness is a Broiled Shrimp and Spinach Salad.

Adjustments: I used cooked, frozen shrimp instead of cooking raw shrimp. So basically, I didn’t broil the shrimp for Broiled Shrimp and Spinach Salad. But this cuts the work you have to do in half (especially nice when your throwing this together for lunch, as I did.) It also means your eating a cold salad instead of a warm one, but that’s fine by me. Also, I added more lemon juice to the dressing.

Assessment: I am completely charmed by this salad and plan on having it again for lunch tomorrow. I wish I hadn’t halved the dressing recipe because I will want this salad again later in the week and will have to make the dressing again. Not that it was any trouble at all. The whole dish was easy, elegant and wonderful. If only life were like Broiled Shrimp and Spinach Salad.

I showed up to the last poker match without a single baked good on me. No brownies, no pies, no cookies. I only had a bottle of red wine. And I was late.

I was under the impression that the boys only wanted my money, which I inevitably lose as of late, but, as it turns out, they want my brownies too–I was called a tease for bringing brownies to a previous poker game but not this one. So, not wanting to disappoint, I promised brownies this time around . . . then made a Strawberry and Lemon Curd Cream Pie instead.

I had intended on going through with my brownie promise, I even bought the ingredients, but I had all these sweet leftovers sitting in my fridge after holding a massive brunch (strawberries, a cream cheese fruit dip), and since I hate wastefulness, I felt obliged to use these ingredients. Also, Strawberry and Lemon Curd Cream Pie is easier to make than made-from-scratch brownies. It’s true whether you believe me or not.

Here are some of the fruity friends from World Market that helped me make this pie:

After using Sticky Fingers Bakeries’ jarred lemon curd, I see no reason to make my own lemon curd ever again. It’s a relief, really, to know that part of my life is taken care of. I will never have to constantly stir thickening lemon curd in my makeshift double boiler again. Although, when I put it that way, it makes me kind of sad.

Recipe: I followed the Honey Maid Graham Crackers Crumb’s pie recipe on the back of the box. You don’t have to bake it, but I did because I thought that would lessen the chances of it turning into a crumbly mess. Then I put a very thin layer of the jarred lemon curd, then a layer of this Fruit Dip with a little vanilla extract mixed in, then sliced strawberries, then I heated the Raspberry Tart preserves and used that as a glaze. I don’t know if I would bother with the glaze next time. I thought a red jam might heighten the red of the strawberries, but I found myself preoccupied with trying not to stain the cream layer underneath when brushing it on the berries. Placing the strawberries on top the cream can get messy, so you can always do the cream as a top layer or serve it on the side. One thing I like about this dish is that it can be reconfigured in so many different ways: rearrange the layers any way you like or omit one all together. Lemon curd and strawberries taste great by themselves without the cream filling, and the cream filling and strawberries don’t need the lemon curd either.

It’s not my most professional presentation, but it looks summery, and it tastes summery, and it was gone by the end of the evening.

My idea for an Easter brunch started out harmless enough. I saw the Weekend Cookbook Challenge was having a bloggers’ brunch round-up, and I thought something along the lines of “Brunch! What a lovely idea. Perhaps I will have a few friends over, and I will serve them brunch.” Between this original small-scale notion and sending out an Evite less than a week before Easter, the idea had ballooned into inviting nearly everyone I know in the Los Angeles area. And while I generally think I’m capable of fitting more tasks into a day than is humanly possible, I had no delusions about being the sole supplier of a meal for thirty people, which was a pleasantly surprising showing for a last-minute shindig. So I described the brunch as “potluck-ish” and at the risk of sounding bossy, told people exactly what we needed for a diverse spread (egg dishes, fruit dishes, salads, etc.) since I was afraid otherwise, most would just stop by a bakery beforehand, and all we’d have was a diverse array of muffins.

I think it turned out well:

The day before the brunch, I whipped together this ridiculously simple Fruit Dip (cream cheese, marshmallow fluff, orange juice and orange zest) that I’ve made countless times. It was sweeter than I remembered, and I might use lemon juice instead of orange juice to cut the sweetness next time or try out one of the other many fruit dip recipes I have lying around. (Yes, I am in possession of multiple fruit dip recipes. No, I do not think this is strange.) But the crowd said nice things. Then again, it was a nice crowd. Alie thought the dip was a great summery addition, and Audrey described it as dipping fruit into a creamsicle.

Next I mixed and rolled Sausage Balls, another easy one. It’s possible that the term “Sausage Balls” doesn’t sound particularly pleasant or edible to you, but they are “a surprising animal” according to David Friedman, the biggest Sausage Ball cheerleader I know. Here’s another way to think of it: a little round biscuit with sausage and cheese baked in. Doesn’t that sound infinitely better? And despite the fact that the crowd kept giggling at Sausage Balls’ ridiculous name, they ate them and proclaimed their love for them. And here’s a tip: my mother was talking to a woman about her Sausage Balls (this is a perfectly normal conversation in the South since everyone makes Sausage Balls there) and how they can cook up dry. The woman said she rolls her balls more loosely to keep them moist, and I found this works. And on that note, we now move on to Orange Chocolate Salad but not without a giant picture of a Sausage Ball first:

I first noticed Clementine Chocolate Salad when Running with Tweezers posted it for the last Weekend Cookbook Challenge. Though I was drawn to it and had half-heartedly considered making it, I couldn’t commit. But when Adam showed up on my doorstep with a sack full of oranges as a thank you for my feeding Pants the cat while he was away, I determined the oranges were a sign from God telling me to make Clementine Chocolate Salad but with navel oranges.

This dish looks simple, but I encountered one problem after another with it—sometimes that happens when you feel pushed for time. I doubled the dish and spent 20 minutes grating chocolate, which is very very boring, and still had only half as much chocolate as I needed. As it turns out, I hate grating chocolate. I will never grate 3.5 ounces of chocolate again. I will either buy it pre-grated (if this product exists) or hire someone to do the grating for me (anyone want that job?—it doesn’t pay, but there’s free Orange Chocolate Salad in it for you.) Then I made the vanilla bean syrup, which was only three ingredients but more trouble than I imagined. On my first try, I cooked it too long trying to get it golden as instructed and ended up with basically Vanilla Bean Jolly Ranchers. So I tossed my creation and made the syrup again, taking it off the burner soon after the sugar dissolved instead of attempting anything golden for fear of wasting more vanilla beans.

Despite the hassle, it was a wonderfully elegant dish that would be especially good at a bridal shower, and people loved the fact that the words “chocolate” and “salad” were used together. But next time, I think I’ll try the version with the fresh mint instead of the chocolate (though the crowd loved the taste of chocolate and oranges together) since I prefer whacking at mint with scissors to grating chocolate.

Next I made a Caramel Coffee Cake, something that sounds far more complicated than it is. All you do is throw yeast rolls in a greased pan, mix together some dry butterscotch pudding and spices, throw them on top of the rolls, then top with melted butter. If you ever make this, you will look at what I just described and think that I must be crazy for insisting that it will turn into a gooey Caramel Coffee Cake. You have to let it rise overnight, and in case you have any reservations about letting the butter that it’s topped with sit out unrefrigerated for hours, Real Simple, one of the premier butter authorities in the world, says it’s okay in their discussion of food myths here (click the link and scroll down.) Evidently, there’s enough salt in salted butter that you can always leave it out, and it will still be fine. As for the coffee cake, when the yeast rolls have risen the next day (appropriate for an Easter meal, no?) into a doughy mass, you will still think I’m crazy for claiming you will have coffee cake after it is cooked. But trust me and put the pan in the oven, let it cook, take it out, flip it out on a plate, ooh and aah, then thank me. I will not hold it against you that you thought I was crazy. Here it is half-eaten, slightly blurry, poorly lit and not nearly as pretty as it is in person (sadly, pictures were an after-thought). But by the end of the party it was gone except for one slice. An excellent sign. Sarah Kate described Caramel Coffee Cake and Orange Chocolate Salad as “can’t-go-wrongs.” I’m thinking about adding that as a category to my blog….

All the day-before prep work complete (sorry for all the jumping around in time), I rested on the seventh day, meaning I tried to sleep around midnight but could not, thinking of all the cleaning and additional food prep work I had to do before 11 a.m. At least I got the coffee and tea station (a transformed IKEA bookshelf) set up in the living room, which I am very proud of because it prevented overflow in the kitchen area and kept the guests happy and caffeinated:

The morning of brunch, the show got under way with minimal sleep and the much-appreciated help of Melissa and Trixie, who assisted me with everything from moving furniture to peeling oranges–somehow the latter turned out to be more difficult than the former. Proof:

As it turns out, Melissa, though a gifted writer and quite adorable, cannot peel an orange to save her life. The above is an example of an orange peeled by Melissa. I had to fire Melissa from her orange-peeling duties and give that job to Trixie who went about scoring them first and making them look more uniform than I thought possible.

However, Melissa was able to redeem herself by expertly opening a bottle of champagne, and she was an immense help with our last-minute assembly of Gorgonzola Grits (another quick dish, but it requires nearly constant attention during its ten-minute prep lifespan), a recipe I got from a Junior League cookbook. I made one with chicken broth, as the recipe told me to, and another version with No-Chicken Broth (the name of the brand) for the vegetarians. I had used the actual chicken broth to poach a chicken earlier in the week, and so, it was an extra-chickeny chicken broth. The grits made with this broth had a very powerful, salty flavor. It made for robust grits—perhaps too robust. But flavorful and unusual in the best sort of way—I’ll just go with a tamer chicken broth next time. The vegetarians loved their less-salty version, one claiming they had converted her to gritsdom and another describing them as “half city/half country—the Donny and Marie of breakfast.” (The No-Chicken Broth made much yellower grits than the real-chicken broth, in case you were wondering about the color difference.)

Soon Mike and Meghann arrived, then Tim, Danielle and Kysa with coffee pot in tow, and it became a rockin’ party from there with people enjoying their mimosas:

and bringing more delicious brunch foods than I knew existed. To give you a sense of what was present, I’ll describe my leftovers. For dinner that night, I had Marissa’s French toast casserole, Sarah Kate’s deviled eggs (with caviar!), Melissa’s spinach salad and a puff pastry stuffed with mushrooms and cheese that magically appeared near the end of brunch. (I have no idea who brought it). For breakfast I had Meghann’s egg casserole and Maggie’s cheddar dill scones. Lunch was Christiane’s quiche, my grits and Shayna’s stuffed cream cheese French toast. For a dessert break I’ll have chocolate cake (Sarah’s?) and/or Leslie’s peach cobbler. And already I’m eyeing the leftovers and imagining what I can create with them—some sort of tart with the fruit dip and strawberries? A cake with a layer of those vanilla meringues? Lucky for the people playing poker at my house later this week….

>>Buy Open House: A Culinary Tour by The Junior League of Murfreesboro.

You’ve probably heard the rumors about risotto. It’s high-maintenance and constantly needs attention. Just like a woman. You’re always stirring stirring stirring to make risotto, 20 minutes worth of non-stop stirring while you ladle in warm broth intermittingly to get that creamy but al dente texture. Risotto is, indeed, a commitment. Some people will try to make you think it’s not a difficult dish, and there’s truth to this claim since a basic risotto requires few ingredients. But if you aren’t into stirring for 20 minutes (plus additional sautéing and chopping) then you couldn’t possibly be into making risotto.

While I don’t mind all the stirring myself, I had always wondered how necessary it really was. I’ve looked far and wide for an explanation about the necessity of non-stop risotto-stirring (okay, I looked once, and that was today, but I’ve wondered a lot), and while I keep coming across promising websites that insist on the stirring and even acknowledge that you may want to dump all the broth in at once and not stir, no one explains why we stir. My guess? Nobody knows. That’s right—no one in the whole world knows.

Actually, the Home and Garden TV website claims the stirring is required so the risotto doesn’t stick to the pan. But this seems suspect to me. Occasional (and not constant) stirring would prevent sticking. Anyhow, all this is a long way of saying I have found a risotto recipe that doesn’t require stirring and tastes good to me. It’s not as creamy as your average risotto (I believe the stirring is a texture issue, though I can’t find any source to back me up on this), but once I added the Parmesan at the end, I was surprised by how creamy and flavorful this non-stirring version was. With Easy Risotto, you do some initial chopping and sautéing, then pour all the broth into the risotto just as you’ve always been told not to, put a lid on the thing and let it simmer while you do other things for twenty minutes (the freedom!), and you return to cooked risotto.

Adjustments: The most significant adjustment was the addition of more liquid because when I made this once before, the risotto cooked up kind of dry. And if I’m going to add more liquid, I might as well add an interesting liquid, so ¼ cup of white wine got thrown into the pot. Instead of water and chicken bouillon, I used canned chicken stock. Also diced regular onions replaced green onions.

Assessment: As I’ve been typing this entry, I’ve debated, would I recommend this for company? No doubt, I will make this for myself again, but others? Here’s the answer: if you are making risotto as an entrée, then get to stirring because it’s the centerpiece of your meal and you need to do it right. If you’re offering risotto as a side (and especially if you have other more important dishes that require last-minute attention before dinner is served) make Easy Risotto. I suspect no one will know the difference. Even my friends who cook are not risotto snobs (to my knowledge, well, maybe Meghann Barloewen is a risotto snob–she always seems to be making risotto anyways), so I think they would be fine with this and may very well not notice the difference.

>>Buy the Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook.