Italian Apple Cake

Anyone who has ever been to my house knows that more often then not an unknown or new face will pop up out of nowhere. It started six years ago and continues to this day, my home has become a bed and breakfast of sorts or the 'European Youth (not so youthful) Hostel' as my friends so eloquently refer to it. Some guests are here for just a few days, many return, others stay for months at a time and on the rare occasion, some are so deeply despised that just the utterance of their name can make me shudder. Regardless of the circumstance, it is fair to say that in my house you are more likely to find a face you don't recognize than one you do. This can be nice in moments of solitude, providing the unique comfort that only a conversation with a stranger can offer; a void filled, even if just for a moment. The guests can also be a cumbersome pain, like when they don't pick up on the fact that you may like to have coffee in quiet in the morning and no, you don't feel like talking. Disconcerting at times, the constant flow of strangers does create one unique opportunity, a reason to cook.

The other day, while working on a batch of granola for a few of my die-hard granola fans (yes, they exist and I love them), I discovered that an Italian guest would be arriving only a few days later. There are a lot of things I like about Italians, they tend to be good looking, they have lovely accents, and most importantly, they eat cake for breakfast. We also eat cake for breakfast, I suppose, but we like to name it something more 'acceptable' like muffin or loaf. Not my Italian brethren though. Nope, they take last night's dessert put it on the table in the morning and call that breakfast. Right on. Since my granola had already been allocated, I figured I had no choice but to make this guest a breakfast cake.

I have been wanting to make a cake like this one since I ate for breakfast when I was living in Italy. My favorite part? The very high fruit to batter ratio, the apples are the stars and the batter merely there to bind the thing together. It's lightly sweetened and delicate, verging almost more on a pudding than on a cake. It's everything I look for in a sweet, at any time of day.

Plum (Pear) Kuchen

I have never really considered myself a slacker, until now. About a month ago was the last night I wrote a blog post, around that time I also made this cake for the next blog post. It has taken me until now to share it. Pathetic, I know. I feel pretty terrible about the whole thing, not because there are so many readers out there dying to see what's next (there aren't), but because I pride myself on my ability to maintain this blog no matter how much other stuff I have going on. However, as my friends' favorite t-shirt reads, 'Shit Happens.' Right on.

The only issue with the whole waiting period is that this cake was much more seasonal when I first made it (I have a solution, be patient). When plums were at their peak, my house was chockful of them in all shapes and size; and what started off as an innocent evening at home one Friday turned into a full-blown plum tasting. Yes, for real. "The yellow sugar plums are definitely the sweetest, but a little mushy." "I must tell you, I like the texture of the Italian blue ones best." The best and worst part about this is that's it's not the first time a Friday night has turned into this kind of 'event' and I assure you it certainly won't be the last.

But back to the cake. This cake was a product of the aforementioned abundance of plums and a year-long desire to make a yeasted kuchen that I had seen in Gourmet a year prior. So I made it, but when it came out a leaden brick of underwhelming plum-ish cake, I went back to the drawing board (aka Epicurious).

Summer Vegetable Torte

As I sat on the subway on my way to work the other day, there was a group of 'kids' (I feel weird saying that) talking and laughing awkwardly. I eavesdropped enough to pick up on the fact that they were college freshman who were in that fittingly awkward getting-to-know you phase of orientation. I laughed to myself as I watched and listened to them, clearly uncomfortable, one-upping each other with stories of badass high school parties, crazy nightclubs, and that time that they got caught by their parents. Part of me wanted to tell them that rather than being so uncomfortable, they might as well loosen up now, because they would eventually anyhow, and why waste time being anxious? My more cynical side wondered who would still be friends after four years, who would be eaten alive by New York City, and who had already decided that these were not the people that they wanted to be friends with. And then, just for fun, I wondered which girl was the sluttiest, which guy might be ashamed of going to college a virgin, who was lying about their past and if anyone was standing there with a smile, but secretly wanting to cry. Come to think of it, it's no wonder freshmen drink so much.

Four years ago, I would have been the girl who smiled, told her stories and stood there wanting to cry. Not because I was unhappy, but because I was scared. Shitless. Understandably so, I found myself in Canada, far from home, surrounded by unfamiliar faces who kept saying weird things like "eh." Well the long and short of it is that sooner rather than later I, too, was saying "eh." It was lovely and remained lovely, including the very unlovely moments that I complained about to no end. Seeing these freshmen on the train was the first time I really realized that I am done with school. It's actually kind of cool that back to school commercials are no longer giving me an awful sinking feeling in my stomach. I am also not busy calculating how many combined essay pages I am going to have to write this semester. And even more unusual, my job isn't just something to fill my summer days, but reality. It's bizarre, new and different, but rather than standing there wanting to cry, I feel refreshed, invigorated and excited. I guess on some days I also kind of wish that I were hearing a few more "ehs" around; alas, I suppose I will have to make the trek the Canada here and there. Problem solved.

This torte has nothing to do with any of this, except for the fact that it tastes like August. August, that once bittersweet month indicating the end of summer and the beginning of a new school year, the only type of year that exists when you're a student. Turns out that the flavors of August are just luscious. It's too bad that I have so often tainted them with negative thoughts of back-to-school, because they should be appreciated for their fleeting goodness.

Corn and Jalapeno Hash

I was at a loss for what to name this dish, hash? mash? grated corn? All of the above? All I am sure of is that it ain't pretty. At all. Thank goodness for that stunning cobalt bowl, which slightly detracts from the sheer unattractiveness of what I am fairly certain looks like prechewed corn. People, please don't judge a book by it's cover because I assure you that what this corn dish lacks in the looks department, it more than makes up for in taste. All that without butter or cream or much salt. Sounds too good to be true? That's why it has to be ugly, you can't have it all, that just wouldn't be fair.

I actually ripped this recipe off of a friend after having dinner at her house. I can't actually call it a total rip-off because it's so simple that calling the preparation a recipe may not be fair. However, making this does take a little bit of dedication and arm work, but I assure you the benefits outweigh the costs. Consider the corn grating a workout if you wish. If you do so, let me warn you that this is a very unbalanced workout. As my 'guns' prove I make excessive use out of my right arm's strength. Alas, at least it's summer and there is sweet corn to grate, right?

So here's how it works. You chop an onion and mince 1/2 a jalapeno, set the jalapeno aside. In a dutch oven heat up a tablespoon of oil. Cook the onion over medium heat until soft and translucent. Set this aside. Shuck 10 ears of corn. Cut the kernels off of 3 of them.

Heirloom Tomatoes

It's official, I am addicted to summer. Very addicted. It's a problem. When it is a bagillion degrees out and everyone's freaking out because walking down the street barely seems feasible, there I am standing in the sun and wondering what the big deal is. On the flip side it's even more of a problem when I am indoors with air conditioners blowing at minus a bagillion degrees and everyone's final happy, except for me. Me? I am sitting there with full length pants and sweater, shivering and wondering what the hell is wrong with these people. Clearly, I have temperature issues. However, regardless of these minor frustrations along the way, summer just rocks, especially when squash, corn and heirloom tomatoes are beyond plentiful.

Of the summer harvest, heirloom tomatoes are without a doubt my favorites. Heirloom tomatoes fall into that cliche category of vegetables (ok, fruits) that, when bought in season, make you wonder why you ever buy those things that look like tomatoes when they're not in season. Every August, when those first sweet, juicy slices of almost technicolor tomatoes make their way onto my plate, I ask myself that question. Then as I take my first bite, I stop thinking and start enjoying, because needless to say these babies won't be around all year.

In my experience, the only problem with heirloom tomatoes is choosing them. So often they are marred with blemishes and cracks, that make them seem like they aren't 'good' when really that's how they should look. So, to make sure everyone is on the same page, I would like to offer a few heirloom tomato purchasing tips.

Smoky Zucchini Mascarpone Tart

James beard once said that "a gourmet who counts calories is like a tart who looks at her watch." Well, James, I couldn't have said it better myself. I wish I could say that this was the explanation for my tart fixation recently, but really I didn't come across this saying until after both this tart and last week's nectarine, cheesecake, gingersnap tart were long gone. I love tarts, the kind you eat of course, because they are a generally simple way to make a dish a little more exciting and pretty. They look refined, finished and composed, and an onlooker might believe that much time and effort was put into it when really, it was a snap.

Oddly enough, this dish was not created by the abundance of summer squash at every turn, but rather by an old bag of spelt flour I had in my fridge. After organizing my fridge for the umpteenth time the other day (yes, I can be a wee bit obsessive about certain things) I decided that the flour had been neglected for far too long and deserved some time to showcase itself. Well, if I may say, the spelt performed wonderfully, resulting in a crumbly and nutty tasting crust that was the perfect accompaniment to the sweet zucchini and creamy mascarpone. The smokiness comes from applewood smoked salt, an ingredient acquired thanks to a tartier moment, but I'll save that story for a later time.

That smokiness paired with the pungent aroma of the chives is what makes this tart anything other than usual. However, those flavors are not so overwhelming that they detract from the summer squash whose oh-so-sweet and buttery nature is just as good raw as it is enrobed in mascarpone. The latter, of course, is quite obvious. I mean I am pretty sure that if my middle name were 'enrobed in mascarpone' people would probably like me more too. I digress, the point is that this tart, like many tarts (or so I've heard) is very good, satisfying, and will last at least an evening if not longer. If you have a mandoline or a benriner slicer* its also very easy (as most tarts are known to be). Most importantly anyone you serve it to will think that you are a refined, culinary genius, truly anything but a tart; but if only they knew where that smoky salt came from....

*$20, buy it now, you won't regret it and no they didn't pay me to say that.

Smoky Zucchini Masparpone Tart
(yields 1, 9-inch tart)

Crust
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons water
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup + 2 tablespoons spelt flour

Filling
3 medium sized zucchini, sliced 1/8" thick or any summer squash will do.
1 small onion, shaved in rounds
2 eggs
3/4 cup mascarpone
1/4 cup chopped chives
2 teaspoons smoked salt
a few turns of a pepper grinder

1) Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Prepare the crust by mixing all the ingredients in a bowl and pressing into a 9-inch tart pan. Bake for 9 minutes, until golden. Let cool completely and keep the oven on.
2) In a blender combine the eggs, mascarpone, chives, salt and pepper. Blend until combined.
3) Lay the zucchini slices in concentric circles in the prepared tart shell, there should be enough for about two layers. Pour the filling evenly over the zucchini. Top with the onions.
4) Bake for 30-40 minutes, until the onions are soft and the top is golden. The filling should be firm to the touch and slightly puffed up. Let cool.
5) Serve a room temperature. This tart should be good for a few days in the fridge, bring to room temperature before serving.

Nectarine, Cheesecake and Gingersnap Tart

If you think that a long walk in the park isn't the solution to most problems, you are greatly mistaken. Well, I suppose it doesn't have to be in the park, but I truly believe that a nice, long walk is the key to gaining perspective. Recently, while I was on one of these contemplative walks I realized that I spent all winter dreaming of summer cooking and baking, but I have spent all summer (thus far) realizing that I have far less time to take advantage of it than I expected. Frustrated with myself, I realized that something had to change. Figuring out how to change things was a bit more of a challenge, because as it turns out, time isn't unlimited.

The 'aha' moment came later when I realized that although time may be limited, when it comes to cooking it can also be maximized. In my case I realized that not all cooking has to be laborious and complicated, in fact, sometimes it's better when its not. I would compare it to working out, just because you can't have a full work out, doesn't mean you shouldn't go to the gym at all. Perspective, you see? In the midst of all this I called to mind a recipe that I had seen in the winter for Nectarine and Mascarpone tart that called for all of 8 minutes of oven time, and some mixing and slicing. So, the dedicated food blogger within me reevaluated my time and made this at 11 pm; I was in bed at 12. Now that's one way to get a good night's sleep.

Being me, I had to make a few changes to the recipe, but overall I stuck with the original. The crust is made of crushed gingersnaps, which add a slightly spicy bite and pair perfectly with the juicy and ripe summer nectarines.

Olive Oil Loaf

I am kind of an iced coffee fiend. Actually, I am an iced coffee fiend and luckily for me (or unluckily, rather) New York City has a plethora of overpriced and delicious iced coffees. I was shocked when I first moved to Montreal and the only iced coffees were these coyingly sweet and very gross "frappes." Then again, who really wants an iced coffee when its negative a million degrees? Hmm...well that is neither here nor there, since I am not actually here to talk about iced coffee today. I am here to talk about a place in New York that serves great iced coffee and even greater Olive Oil Loaf.

Abraco, which means 'hug' in Portuguese, is a teeny tiny espreso bar in the East Village serving "housemade semi-sweets and savories." The name is fitting, as you walk in you are literally embraced by the aromas of coffee, fresh baked goods, and homemade frittatas. It has been commended for its iced coffee, but the thing that really intrigued me was all the talk about the food they serve. Olive oil loaf, cured olive shortbread, and a whole slew of other incredible sounding things that I have yet to try. Anyhow, while I was still living through the iced coffee drought of Montreal, I kept reading about this place and knew that once I moved back to New York I would have to go ASAP. It took me about 2 weeks to make it there, but after one bite of olive oil love and a nibble of cured olive loaf, I (like everyone else) was hooked.

So, true to form, I had to figure out how to make these myself because, well, that's what I do. Unfortunately I haven't been able to find the recipe for the cured olive shortbread, but I haven't given up hope yet.

Shisito Peppers

If you were in New York City this past weekend, you know how brutally hot it was. If you weren't, I am going to assume that regardless of where you live, you've experienced brutally hot weather at some point. But no, I am not here to talk about the weather, although I find that I always have a lot to say on the topic....not the point. The point is, it was hot hot hot on Saturday and when invited my photographer friend over, I could promise her nothing more than a quick, easy and cold make-your-own salad for dinner.

Between our plan making and dinner, I felt a pang of guilt for not putting any effort into our dinner. After a quick peak in my fridge revealed a bag of shisito peppers that I had gotten at the market earlier in the week, I knew I had my solution. For those of you who don't know, shisito peppers are small green peppers that look a bit like jalapenos, but with a ribbed exterior and thinner walls and skin. These peppers are mildly spicy and are very popular in Japanese cooking, especially for tempuras and stir-fries. Anyhow, after spotting these in my fridge I knew that these would be my extra addition to our meal. Yes, the stove would have to go on, but it wouldn't be on for more than 5 minutes and the final result of slightly charred, blistery peppers to munch on was worth the few extra degrees in the kitchen.

Well my friend was definitely not disappointed in the peppers either and when I started babbling about shisitos, the market and god knows what else, she came up with a brilliant idea. When I have a 'market find' that I am so excited about, I should write about it here.

Mint Chocolate Ice Cream Sandwiches

I have been wanting an ice cream maker for, like, ever. Every summer as the heat starts to weigh down on me I walk into Williams Sonoma and stare at the ice cream machines, my mind bubbling with ideas of all the ice cream flavors, both unique and classic, that I would be able to make if I had one. This summer, I finally bought one and in my three proud weeks as an ice cream maker-owner, I have had no regrets. Although all the experiments have turned out pretty delicious (how could they not?), my favorite so far* is the mint.

* I have a feeling I am going to have a lot of favorites this summer, so bear with me.

Made with market fresh mint, this ice cream tastes like the actual herb and nothing like toothpaste or mouthwash or anything else that is artificially mint flavored. Seriously, this is the good stuff. On its own the ice cream is pretty close to perfect, but after reading an ice cream sandwich round up in Time Out New York, I decided to follow the trend and take things to the next level. Do you remember those world peace cookies I made at Christmas time? Well if you don't, let me remind you. They are buttery, chocolatey rounds of goodness, souped up with some extra chocolate chunks. Good on their own? Absolutely. Combined with mint ice cream? Heaven.

Yes, these are pretty heavenly but that doesn't mean there are no strings attached. If I am going to be honest these are essentially antithesis to bathing suit season. On the bright side, however, these are pretty time consuming to make so they really are a special treat.

Pesto Potato and Green Bean Salad

I'm not a big fan of superlatives, the best this, the worst that, the coolest girl, the cutest guy, etc... It all just seems too extreme and too concrete. However, today I am making an exception to the rule because I think that everyone should know that the Union Square Farmer's market is one of the best places on earth. Now maybe I would think all farmer's markets are that great, but this is the one I know best and I just love it. As a cook, I have had a difficult time coming to terms with farmer's markets. So often the produce and ingredients they offer are so good on their own that the importance of my role in the dinner equation is essentially eliminated. I had to get over it when I realized that some of the best food I have eaten may not be because I am a good cook, but because I am a cook with good ingredients.

That being said, when I do use market fresh ingredients I do my best to keep things simple and avoid interfering too much . For example, in this salad the three main ingredients are potatoes, string beans and basil, all straight from the market, perfect on their own, but even better together. Now unfortunately, I don't have any pictures of the final product because this was made at night and gone by the morning. So you're going to have to use your imagination to visualize the final result. It's easy, take the picture of the string beans and potatoes and tint it green. Not any green though, tint it the green of the pesto in the picture below. There you go. Looks good, right?

To keep things simple, this salad just tastes like a sum of its parts. Sweet, waxy potatoes. Crunchy, green string beans. Woodsy, biting basil. That's it and that's all you want from it.

Mock Apple Pie

When you've been out of the kitchen and away for such a long time, it seems that cooking again can be daunting. During my travels I so much enjoyed having every delicious bite laid out for me, that the prospect of making anything myself seemed like a thing of the past. Now that I have returned home and settled in, I suddenly got the urge again, the desire to make something new and different. So I made something new and different, something I have never heard of before, Mock Apple Pie.

If anyone knows about this I would be curious to find out where and how they learned about it. When I saw this recipe I was immediately inspired to make it because it seemed so foreign for a riff on an All-American classic. You might wonder what it is if the apples in this really are 'mock.' Well, believe it or not, this crust is chock-full of a ritz cracker filling that has absorbed a mixture of cream of tartar, lemon juice and cinnamon. The original pictures fooled me and I imagine based on these pictures, you may have a hard time believing me too.

So, about the taste. When my mom tasted it she looked at me, slightly confused, and said, "wait, so what kind of apples did you use?" There is no doubt that this pie tastes like apples with a delicious hint of cinnamon.

So long France

My trip through France is coming to its end and after five days in Paris, two in Bordeaux, three in Toulouse, and four in Nice I can say that traveling through France can be a comfortable challenge. Many questions remain unanswered; why did we have to switch trains twice on what was supposed to be a direct trip? Why don't French boys notice cute American/Canadian girls? Why is it so cold and rainy in May? Why did that person just cut me in line?

Despite several questions and uncertainties, I also learned a few invaluable lessons in France, which I will be happy to share with you.

Lesson #1: The French are strong believers in DIY, especially in restaurants.

The two steak tartares that I got arrived at the table with a smattering of condiments, sauces and chopped seasonings. Apparently it was my job, not the chef's, to turn this mound of raw meat into something delectable. Picture it, a hefty patty of raw ground beef with an egg yolk on top counting on me to make it something other than, as my friend so eloquently put it "a raw hamburger." Imagine her dissapointment when she was also expected to season her own Bloody Mary, which raises another question, what do bartenders in France do if they expect us to make our own drinks?

Lesson #2: French supermarkets are superior to our American ones, a good meal is never more than a few packages and a bottle of wine away.

After several long dinners at brasseries, we decided that a dinner at home was in order and so we walked into the Carrefour, picked up a package of jambon, a selection of goat and sheep cheeses, fresh bread, olives and some mache. With a dessert of macarons from La Duree, this simple dinner in Paris was certainly one of my favorites.

Cherry Almond Bars

There are days when it feels like falling off the face of the earth would be fantastic, like when exams are bogging you down, or when you're cold and rain battered, or when you just don't feel like getting out of bed. Then there are times when it may seem like you've fallen off the face of the earth, but in reality you're in the better half of the earth and that blog that you so consistently keep up with becomes as distant a memory as the continent across the ocean. I am currently of the latter category and although I have missed posting here, overall my travels through France have distracted me enough to eliminate any guilt I may feel about my short-term lack of dedication. Although I plan to indulge you all with stories and photos of my culinary excursions here in France, in the meantime allow me to whet your appetite with something less exciting than a trip to France, but certainly more exciting than your average dessert.

I made these bars when I was in the midst of my final finals and munching on them was an ideal distraction from what felt like endless days of studying. When I first saw this recipe I was inspired by the focus on fruit and nuts with what seemed like just a touch of sweet butteriness from a shortbread crust. Also, I liked that it used jam rather than fresh fruit because as much as I wish it were prime time for market goods, summer fruits still need a bit more time and the jam ensured that these bars didn't lack any of the fruity flavor I love in dessert. That being said, if fruits were at their peak I would certainly make my own compote for these bars rather than using store-bought jam. Regardless of which way you make them the final result should shine with fresh, fruity flavor and satisfy your sweet craving without being coyingly sweet.

Although I loved the recipe, the final result was far different than I expected (in the best of ways). The shortbread base, made with confectioners sugar, had a much finer and sandier texture than I am used to. A good change from the ordinary, this allowed the flavors of the fruit and nuts to shine.

Sunchoke Chips

The past few days have been spent packing up boxes, preparing for the 'next step'--whatever that might be--and spending enough time with the people that matter to soak in their presence, before I say goodbye. I have also been exploring Montreal, finally getting to know the city that I have lived in for three years, yet never knew anything about. Between my packed cookware and my time away from home, all of this also means that there is not much to report here. There is one thing, however, that I absolutely must tell you about. Last Thursday, after walking home from my last exam (ever) I came home and did what everyone does when they finish their last exam; I made chips.

Not just any type of chip, but sunchoke chips. I had bought the sunchokes at the on-campus market a few days before and combined with my newly acquired mandoline, I knew that they had to turn into chips. I feel like I have been seeing sunchokes everywhere recently, but after doing a bit of research on them, I only found out that they are a great source of inulin, despite the common name Jerusalem Artichoke they are neither from Jerusalem nor are they related to artichokes and they are actually a tuber produced beneath the ground by a variety of sunflower. I can't seem to figure out which season is best for them, although I did read that they can withstand hardy winters, which makes a whole lot of sense considering I bought these in springtime in Montreal.

Regardless of when they're at they're peak, sunchokes always have a deliciously earthy and subtly sweet flavor. Roasting or pureeing them into soup really showcases these flavors, but once these are fried into chips takes a bit of the nuanced flavor is lost. Not all of it however, and they're unique flavor and texture is something surprisingly addictive and tasty. If I were to make a comparison, these remind me of Terra chips, more toothsome and hearty than a potato chip, but they satisfy the craving just as well. You could serve these with a lemon aioli or other dip of your choice, but I chose to eat them as-is with a sprinkle of salt. I wanted to keep it simple; packing, change and moving on are all complicated, eating chips shouldn't have to be.

Sunchoke Chips

6 large sunchokes (aka. Jerusalem Artichokes, Topinambour)
2 cups frying oil
sea salt, for sprinkling

1) Scrub the Jerusalem artichokes clean. Slice thinly with a mandoline, slightly thinner than 1/8."
2) Meanwhile heat up the oil to 375 degrees, most people use a thermometer, I gauged based on how fast my chips were frying.
3) Add the sliced sunchokes in batches, frying until just golden with a slightly orange hue, 4-5 minutes (this may vary depending on the size of your slices, so keep your eye on them and adjust accordingly).
4) Using a spider take out your chips and place on paper towels to drain. Sprinkle immediately with salt. Continue with the remainders, transferring the drained chips to a bowl as you go.

Chocolate Pretzel Pie

There are some food combinations that just make sense, and others that make me wonder about people's mental states. Doritos and peanut butter? No thank you. Orange jello and vanilla pudding? Ditto. I shouldn't be so quick to judge because I enjoy certain things that most people would have the same reaction to: I dip cookies in water, peanut butter and cream cheese do go well together, and although I haven't tried it yet, I wholeheartedly believe that a french fry dipped in a milkshake must be pretty good. I guess everyone has their own tastes and preferences when it comes to bizarre flavor combinations, but some more unusual hybrids always garner cheers and a few "oh my god, I love those." It seems, that chocolate and pretzels actually are meant to be. A modern classic, I wouldn't call this combination weird, so much as unexpected. It is my belief that the success of this pairing just proves that these two are a match made in heaven; crunchy, smooth, sweet and salty, together they offer every possible type of texture and flavor you could want. The combination is ridiculously satisfying and dangerously addictive, it hits the spot no matter what you're craving.

This pie takes the chocolate covered pretzel to another level. I usually steer clear of recipes like this one, knowing that the beauty of a food is often in its simplicity. The way I see it, why mess with the chocolate covered pretzel when it is perfect as-is? However, something about this recipe inspired me. Maybe because I had already had it at the restaurant in New York where it was created, so I knew how good it would be. Maybe because I am scared of tempering chocolate so I would never make my own chocolate-covered pretzels. Whatever it was, this pie was good enough to make twice so far, and I have no doubt that a third time is on the way.

Despite a pretzel crust and a pretzel layer in the ganache, this pie has a much higher chocolate to pretzel ratio than the classic. Chocolate lovers will love this. I, however, don't love chocolate that much. What I love is the contrast of flavors and textures, so the second time I made this I increased the pretzel layer in the ganache.

Fennel Apple Slaw

I think there should be some sort of equation to define how much I miss barbecues; in October, they are recent memory, but the excitement of apples, squash and fall vegetables quickly pushes those thoughts out of my mind. Come April, however, despite the abundance of fava beans, asparagus and artichokes, all I seem to be thinking about are barbecues. Not the southern kind, but the kind you have in your backyard where the smell of smoke imbues your hair and your clothes. Better yet, the type of barbecue that imparts deep smoky flavor and delicious char marks to whatever graces its red-hot grill. My desire for a good barbecue has only increased as the sun has been shining and rooftops have provided an increasingly attractive alternative to the library.

The idea for this slaw came to me after having a similar one at Liverpool House, a great Montreal restaurant. This slaw doesn't make up for the missing hot dogs or charred steaks, but it's bold enough to remind me that those things are not so far off. With each bite I took, I re-imagined it, piled on top of a burger, as a side salad for grilled salmon, and...oh, the possibilities. Then again, I ate it as-is and could not have been happier. Unfortunately, considering how many people absolutely hate fennel, I am certain that this recipe will be of no interest to many. However, for the sake of experimentation I had my friend taste this slaw and raw fennel. She was beyond disgusted by the raw fennel but loved the slaw, telling me that the licoricey flavor of the fennel doesn't stand out once it is mixed with apples and a lovely dressing.

I still taste the fresh fennel in this recipe, but then again I love the taste of it and so I seek its poignant flavor in every bite. The sweet tartness of the apples is an ideal counterpart to the crunchy fennel, adding notable sweetness and fruitiness.

Red Lentil and Eggplant Curry

This weekend was one of those perfect ones that tears you away from reality and life; where you find yourself plunked on a rooftop in the middle of the city pretending you're in a different world, but knowing that eventually real life and obligations will prevail. But while you're sitting on that rooftop surrounded by friends, laughing (and maybe crying) you let yourself forget about any responsibilities or tasks that may be looming. This isn't pretend, in those glorious hours you actually believe that against all odds, despite what everyone told you, 'real life' is just an accumulation of fabulous moments like these.

Then of course, I looked at my agenda and immediately gave up on any illusions of freedom and fantasy. So, I got to it. However, a true victim of senioritis, instead of working on that paper or studying for that exam, I headed to my kitchen and got to work. Oddly enough, I almost wish that this curry had taken me longer to make, justifying just a wee bit more procrastination. However, for anyone who is taking life a little more seriously right now, rest assured dinner will be ready in 45 minutes. It's also going to taste like take out, feel homemade and hit the spot.

I saw this recipe over at 101 Cookbooks a little while ago and have been dying to make it ever since. So I did, but aside from the red lentils and coconut milk--which, by the way, are a match made in heaven--my recipe is nothing like Heidi's.

Addictions/Moroccan Chicken

Ok, so I am willing to admit that I have a little bit of a problem. Actually, I would rather call it an addiction, it seems more clinical and legitimate that way. I am addicted to buying spices. Now as an avid cook this isn't inherently a bad thing, but considering I don't know what to do with at least half of the spices that are currently decorating my fridge...well, yeah, you get it. You see, what happens is that I go to the store to get a spice or seasoning for a recipe I am making (the sane way to slowly build a collection). Then, while I am there I decide that I absolutely need a few others because I once saw a recipe that called for them and certainly I am going to want to buy them someday anyhow. Needless to say those recipes are nowhere to be found, but the spices still haunt me, calling my name, begging to be used.

My guilt about my addiction was the motivation behind this Moroccan chicken stew. I wanted a dish that made abundant use of my spice collection, but that also promised a deeply satisfying meal. I mean I may be a little nuts sometimes, but I am not going to throw together a whole bunch of spices and call it dinner, right? So after thinking, browsing and brainstorming, I finally decided that a Moroccan 'tagine' would be the perfect solution. This recipe was not made in a tagine and I can't promise you that it is authentically Moroccan in any way. However, I can assure you that the savory mix of cinnamon, ginger, turmeric, coriander and cayenne pepper created a richness and depth of flavor that we just don't find in North American food. Authentic or not, the flavors were authentically fantastic.

This dish is the ideal combination of sweet, savory and spicy. Chicken thighs are left to rest in dry spice mix overnight and then braised until they are so tender that they seem like an entirely separate being than the sawdusty chicken cutlets that so often plague our meals.

Daring Bakers/Orange Tian

I often find myself frustrated when new Daring Baker's challenges are posted, because so often I find the recipes do not appeal to me. Almost every single time, I have been proven wrong. This month I was proven wrong yet again. For a dessert that sounded too much like orange creamsicle pudding, this tian far exceeded my expectations. That being said, the orange whipped cream combination is not totally my thing, but I liked it much more than I thought I would. So when I remake this (yes, I will be remaking it), I will probably try a berry version; this citrus version was good, but a berry version sounds great.

The 2010 March Daring Baker’s challenge was hosted by Jennifer of Chocolate Shavings. She chose Orange Tian as the challenge for this month, a dessert based on a recipe from Alain Ducasse’s Cooking School in Paris.

For those of you who don't know what a tian is (I didn't), its essentially an upside-down cake with a pate sablee base smeared with marmalade, then topped with lightly sweetened whipped cream, with circles of fruit segments on the top.