In Jennie's Kitchen

steel cut oats with caramelized onions & ricotta

After weeks of testing devil's food cake recipes, followed by a special trip to get some cookies baked by none other than Dorie herself, and the boxes of Nunu's chocolate scattered around the dining room table from Valentine's Day, I've reached my limit. Yes, the girl with an insufferable sweet tooth has been broken. I'm sure this is just a temporary phase. How long it will last I'm not sure. Considering the Mr. and I are embarking on a brief kid-free staycation, my guess is there will be some pastry, cookie or other confection to woo me back. Until then, I started easing away from my addiction last week.

While I've been partial to oatmeal with fresh jam or dried fruits—you'll see what I mean in an upcoming post, I decided to take a savory twist. I love making and eating fresh ricotta (it's really easy I promise). And caramelized onions—well, who wouldn't want to eat those any time of day? One could say I've just swapped one addiction for another I suppose. Throw in the nutty flavor and pop of steel cut oats with each bite and it's such a delightful way to start the day. I'm not alone in this sentiment. Each morning, I ladle some into my bowl and snuggle up on the couch with the baby after the Mr. and IRP have left for school and work. Then we giggle and take turns lapping up this creamy, comforting concoction. So, yes, it's baby-tested and approved.

Soaking steel cut oats overnight significantly cuts down cooking time the next morning, but I go one step further. They heat so well, I just make a big batch to last a few days. A quick zap in the microwave with a bit of milk to reconstitute the grain's creamy texture means steel cut oats in less than two minutes. The Mr. is worried about us leaving with the impeding arrival of another snow storm. Heck, we're just going across the bridge to the big city. This screwy weather is what derailed our plans to relax in a spa in the blue ridge mountains, but I'm not letting a few inches of the white powdery stuff call off our plans all-together (and I know Jen would agree). Instead, I'll make sure there's a vat of this oatmeal so the sitter and kiddies will have energy for a good old-fashioned snowball fight.

p.s. I forgot to mention I recently added a pantry basics page. This is by no means comprehensive...yet. It's a work in progress at the moment but a good beginning peak into my home cupboard. Right now you'll learn what kind of salt I use, why I call for room temperature eggs in most of my baking recipes and an answer to the age old question of salt vs. unsalted butter. 

p.p.s. I added this recipe to the Food 52 mix last week as part of their Best Porridge contest. I particularly liked Winnie's Okayu with Edamame, Porcinis and Matcha Salt—doesn't it remind you of risotto, Japanese-style?

homemade manicotti

  

I try to never go back on my word. It's one of the tenets of parenting. You must keep your promises (which is why it's also important to be careful what promises you make!). Well, I know I teased you with my last post on Parmesan Skillet Croutons. I said it was the start of a mini-series in baby steps in cooking that would lead to a velvety, comforting rich tomato soup. That was before i found out that my recipe for homemade manicotti was a finalist over at Food 52. So, please forgive me for my little white lie. I promise next week to come back with a recipe for homemade bouillon (baby step #2). But, today, let's talk about these tender pasta crepes filled with creamy tufts of fresh ricotta cheese and lightly dressed with marinara sauce.

I can't recall the first time I tasted homemade manicotti, but the experience left an indelible impression on my tastebuds. I'd never been a fan of them, and that was likely because the commercially manufactured ones are belly bombers. My family never made them from scratch.

Then one day I found myself in the kitchen with the urge to make them myself. I started by making some fresh ricotta. It's incredibly easy, so give it a try. If you pressed for time, then it's okay to buy it, but make sure it's fresh—you'd just be doing yourself a disservice otherwise. And don't forget about the marinara sauce. Surprisingly, I've never posted my recipe, so here's the short version.

brown butter banana nut muffins

It's a stormy day in Brooklyn today. This is fitting given the occasion. Today is 12 years since my dad died—he was only 49, and the day we buried him it was cold, rainy and the winds were full of gust. He never lived the life he wanted. He dreamed of being an artist, and what an amazing one he was, but his father didn't support that dream. His father was also an alcoholic, as was his sister, and that was a noose around his neck that he unfortunately battled his whole life...and often succumbed to.

Our relationship had been strained for a long time before he died, but we'd made our peace a week before he was hospitalized. When I left the hospital that day, I was at the elevator bank and wanted to run back for one last hug and kiss. I decided it could wait until my next visit in a week. I was going to talk with my boss about a leave of absence after finding out he only had a few months left to live. Three days later, I got a call that he was in a coma, and it would only be a matter of time since he had signed a DNR.

Twenty-seven hours later I watched as the last breath left his body. It is an experience I cannot fully put into words. Something happens when you watch someone alive one moment and gone the next. It is humbling in a way. While we know life is just a short visit in the scope of things, the fact really hits home when you see it disappear in an instant. I also learned the hard way to seize the moment. I often dream of what that final hug and kiss would've felt like had I ran back from the elevators the week before.

Now, I'm sorry if I've saddened you because that is not really the point. The lesson I took away after losing my father was to always, always, always follow my dreams—no matter how uncertain they may seem or fearful of failure I may be. As I told my daughter just yesterday, every mistake is a chance to learn. Learn how to do it better the next time, and the next time, and so on.

merry christmas & happy new year

Forgive me for the pause in posting. It has been a harried week, and I'm nursing a wee cold in the midst of the usual juggle. I did manage to get some of my holiday baking done, though not as much as I'd hoped. Many friend, neighbors and school teachers got some of these mini crumb cakes, while others got some cocoa candied pecans and homemade pancake mix.

This has been a busy, yet prosperous year. No matter how tough times have gotten, I try to stay focused on the girls and the Mr. And for that reason, I'm taking some much needed time off. Isabella will be delighted to know she doesnt have to compete with mommy's work during the school vacation, and I'm thrilled about that too. People often wonder how I do it. Well, the fact is I get much less sleep than an human being should get for a prolonged period of time. I also take on way to many projects, but so is the life of freelancing—you've got to strike while the cast-iron skillet is hot. This next week and a half will be a recharging of the batteries. Watch out 2010, 'cause here I come. Happy holidays, and thanks for joining me on my cooking journeys.

12 days of sharing

 
designed by Jen Schall

Six years ago my life changed forever. My daughter was born, and while it was very unplanned and has been a balancing act of career, motherhood and my own identity, I've had amazing help along the way. A month before her first Christmas, I looked down into her chocolate brown eyes and realized that she'd be spoiled beyond belief with the generosity and love of my family come Christmas Day. When the Mr. came home that night, I suggested in lieu of buying gifts for each other we visit the post office and get some letters to make the wishes of those less fortunate come true. That year we "adopted" a class from Sunset Park, Brooklyn. Reading their letters, asking for items my own children now take for granted like stickers, coloring books and a teddy bear, brought me to tears. We have continued this tradition of bringing a bit of joy to families in need ever since.

So, I'm very excited to announce a project I've been working on with Share Our Strength as part of their Share Your Season campaign. What if your cherished recipe could help feed another family this holiday season? Well, it can. Starting next Monday, December 7th through December 18th, In Jennie's Kitchen is hosting the 12 Days of Sharing—a virtual cookie swap. 

golden onion pie + a new beginning

While the November issue of Gourmet magazine is the last—ever, it's the "soft" launch of Gourmet, Unbound (you know that project Maggie, Olga and myself are working on). We're excited to see what you all decide to bring to our virtual table when we officially open for business in December. Until then, we're each taking a turn in the kitchen to cook the books, serving up a Gourmet recipe from the month of November.

Want to join us in this journey come December? Get the details here? And about that delicious looking savory pie pictured above...visit me at Gourmet, Unbound for a recipe you'll want to cook up year-round.

Add these onions...

 

to this pot of bacon and butter...

and it cooks down to this!

Spoon it into a buttery crust and one hour later, you've got this yummy looking pie (okay, so I couldn't wait to have a piece).

 

 

(almost) gone, but not forgotten

I remember driving home one December afternoon, listening to Ruth Reichl talking about the holiday cookie issue on the Leonard Lopate show. Years tend to meld into one another, so I honestly couldn't say if it was last or perhaps the year before. What I do know is I never imagined a holiday season without Gourmet. Every time I make a cookie, I hear Reichl's words ring in my ears "you'd be amazed what even a 1/4 teaspoon of salt can do for a recipe". For some reason that stuck with me, and it's true. It wakes up the other flavors.