Yesterday, in an uncharacteristic move, I served a pair of French toast dishes for brunch. I made two pans of baked blueberry and strawberry French toast, both rich with half and half and butter. Then I made a third pan of dairy-free baked French toast, that one rich with peanut butter and flavorful with bites of brown sugar-crusted banana. Surprisingly, the banana-peanut butter combo was the biggest hit, and friends gobbled it up alongside slices of bacon, roasted potatoes with homemade tomato chutney, and bloody Marys.

Though I’ve long advocated baked French toast as a brunch staple, I rarely serve platters of the rich, carby main. This is because I don’t love sweet breakfasts and brunches, and the host has to eat too.

But yesterday’s gloom and a desire for ease saw me running home from the supermarket two hours before friends were due to arrive with loaves of fluffy Portuguese white bread ready to be turned into French toast. I loved serving the two variations, and though my oven suffered from being overstuffed with pans of potatoes, bacon, and the French toast, brunch came together and we had a blast.

Also, I though I’d mention that I had never made my own bloody Marys before yesterday. But I’m one hundred percent stirring them together for all future brunches. (I followed Ina’s recipe.) Do you have a signature bloody Mary ingredient?

**Recipe**

Banana & Peanut Butter Baked French Toast
Serves 8 to 10 as part of brunch

I made this completely dairy free, using almond milk and safflower oil. If you’re not worried about dairy, it’s fine to make this with milk and butter. This is awesome for brunch parties, since you can assemble the pans before you go out the night before and then pop them in the oven before guests arrive.

Ingredients
3 cups unsweetened vanilla almond milk, or whole milk
6 eggs
1/4 cup peanut butter, smooth or chunky, at room temperature
1⁄2 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons light brown sugar
6 tablespoons safflower oil or melted butter
2 teaspoons safflower oil or butter, at room temperature, for the pan
1 loaf challah or good white bread, cut into 10 to 12 slices (about 2 inches thick)
2 ripe bananas, cut into 2-inch slices

In a large bowl, whisk together the milk, eggs, peanut butter, salt, 5 tablespoons of the light brown sugar, and the 6 tablespoons melted butter or oil.

With the 2 teaspoons butter or oil, grease a baking pan that is large enough to fit all the bread slices. (You’ll probably need a 9-by-13-inch pan plus possibly a smaller square or round pan.) Arrange the bread in it. Wedge the banana slices in between the bread. Pour the egg mixture over the fruit and bread, pressing down on each piece to make sure it’s submerged. Let rest for 1 hour at room temperature, or longer (even overnight) in the fridge.

About 20 minutes before you are ready to bake, preheat the oven to 400°F. Sprinkle the remaining 1 tablespoon brown sugar over the top. Bake the French toast for 25 minutes, or until the bread is golden and crusty and the slices are cooked through (cut open and peek if you’re not sure). You can serve this immediately, or cool it up to 30 minutes and serve room temperature.

In a small kitchen, you don’t need a lot of equipment to cook great food. Still, you do need some pots,pans, utensils, and dishes–obviously. In the BGSK book, you’ll find a bare bones list of necessary equipment, but I’ve long wanted to bring you a similar resource on the web.

So we’re going one by one, stocking up our virtual pantries and maybe our real ones too.

Today I want to talk about the mini food processor. I own a Cuisinart Mini-Prep Food Processor. It’s one of the first gifts Alex ever bought me, and it’s a workhorse. I use it almost daily, primarily for all these dips, from pesto to homemade mayonaise. It would be worth it alone for making homemade hummus. I have, however, even pulsed together a smoothie in this guy.

The real reason I use the mini prep all the time is because its footprint is tiny. Even though I don’t have much counter space, I leave the mini prep out all the time. It’s cute. It inspires me to blend things. And there’s no lugging a blender down from the top shelf when I’m ready to go.

In case you don’t believe me that you’ll use this guy for everything, here’s a sampling of dishes you’ll make in your mini prep (pictured above, top to bottom):

• Herby Avocado Hummus
• Creamy Habanero & Tomato Soup
• BGSK Peanut Noodles

The personal is political when we’re making a choice between climate change and cheeseburgers.

The Lobster Claw Bloody Mary from Lobster Joint, which Gothamist says is one of the best Bloody Marys in the city, will be mine tonight.

Winnie of Healthy Green Kitchen wrote a thoughtful, thought-provoking open letter to everyone who eats about dieting, diets, and eating what feels right to you.

And, a little more nutrition  from Summer Tomato, about how to build a healthy plate.

So you don’t have to be a slave to search results, I asked a panel of bloggers, culinary historians, and cookbook authors to pick 25 Italian recipes that really work for First We Feast.

I know it’s first thing in the morning. But I want to talk about booze. No, not vodka, not tequila, and not gin. Something sweeter and nuttier. Maybe more like breakfast? Or really, dessert. It’s Frangelico, a hazelnut-flavored liquor that’s about to take my chocolate mousse to the next level.

But first, let’s go way back.

Years ago, I interned in the test kitchen of a famous food personality. As the only non-professional chef in the kitchen, I spent my days feeling like Amelia Bedelia, pouring salt in the sugar jar and spilling sugar on the floor.

Now, there is a lot of know-how involved in being a home cook, like understanding how to improvise meals from an empty pantry or what it means to stretch dinner to feed double the number of guests intended (hint: add potatoes), but not knowing how to handle a hazelnut is one of the downfalls of never having earned a culinary degree.

One quiet afternoon in the test kitchen, we were testing recipes and a chef handed me some extra pie dough to play with. With the freedom to fill my pie crust with any of the kitchen’s gourmet wonders, I kicked around ideas, finally deciding on a chocolate mousse filling with hazelnuts. The crust baked up fine, and the mousse set. Feeling good, I toasted the hazelnuts, failed to remove their papery skins, scattered them across my tart, offered slices around the kitchen, and drooped home after the entire test kitchen staff declined to taste my tart.

“You know you have to remove the skins before you serve them?” the head chef finally said.

Obviously I hadn’t known. Right then I knew, though. Lesson learned.

So when I got the chance to work with Frangelico, a hazelnut-flavored liquor, I knew my recipe was going to be the story not just of hazelnut liqueur but of redemption. Make that crustless redemption.

When I think of a dinner party dessert, I think of chocolate mousse. I just do. This may seem old-fashioned or overly traditional, but I have my reasons. Often, after a big dinner, eating cake is too agressive a move. Fruit for dessert sounds dull. A chocolate bar shared among guests is nice and rustic, but maybe too homey for some parties. Chocolate mousse, made in this case with nothing more than chocolate chips, eggs, coffee, and a big pour of Frangelico–hazelnut liquor that also happens to be quite light and low in calories–is, as I said, the perfect dinner party dessert.

But the best part about this recipe is that you can whip it up to suit your own cravings, even when there’s no dinner party on the agenda. (For that, maybe cut recipe in half.) Whirl chocolate chips in the blender with coffee, making an elevated ganache. Add eggs, for substance, to help the chocolate solidify during a short wait in the fridge (you have to eat the savory part of dinner sometime!). The Frangelico adds sweetness and a Nutella-esque nuttiness. And then, sweet redemption, toasted and peeled hazelnuts scattered on top bring this little dessert together.

This sponsored post is part of an ongoing collaboration with Frangelico. I only ever work with brands whose values and products mesh with the content I love to produce for you. You can read my affiliate disclosure here.

**Recipe**

 Easy Hazelnut Chocolate Mousse
Serves 4
Adapted from The Pioneer Woman

Sometimes I use great chocolate to make this. Sometimes I use supermarket chocolate chips. Whatever. On the other hand, use the freshest eggs from the market since you’ll basically be eating ‘em raw.

Ingredients
6 ounces semi-sweet chocolate chips (1 cup)
pinch salt
2 eggs
1/2 cup strong, hot coffee
2 tablespoons Frangelico
12 hazelnuts, toasted for 8 minutes in a 350°F oven and peeled

Combine the chocolate, salt, and eggs in a blender or food processor. Blend til the chocolate is chopped really, really finely. Pour in the coffee, which should be extremely hot. Blend until all the chocolate is melted. Pour into four ramekins or other little bowls. Scatter 4 hazelnuts on top of each. Place on a baking sheet and refrigerate for 2 hours, or until set. You can also refrigerate them overnight. Serve cold, with a little whipped cream if you like.

You know how when you learn a new word, you suddenly hear it everywhere–in books, articles, and coming out of people’s mouths? Or how, when you make new friends, you don’t know what you spent your Saturdays doing before you met them? When I was in school, I loved the convergence of different subjects, how what you were learning in math could somehow become relevant in history class.

Since I’ve been exploring Middle Eastern food, I’ve noticed newly learned techniques pop up everywhere and flavor combinations that first seemed improbable appear completely sensical. Had I missed the fact that you could temper yogurt with egg or flour and use it to make a creamy soup? Is sumac the new smoked paprika?

Yet the more I read, taste, and cook, the more I notice continuity between what I already enjoy and what’s eaten in Lebanon, Turkey, Armenia, and Egypt. In fact, the third time I read about that yogurt soup in Claudia Roden’s The New Book of Middle Eastern Food, I realized it bore a similarity to one of the first dishes I ever got in the habit of cooking for myself, a pasta dish I wrote about in In the Small Kitchen, which uses egg, yogurt, and pasta water to create a creamy, slightly tangy, no-cook sauce for pasta. In fact, one version of the soup actually has vermicelli noodles in it.

Taking inspiration from the convergence of an old favorite and a new-to-me technique, I made a 2013 version of my old favorite yogurt pasta. I cut down on the Parmesan cheese, three tablespoons of which has always seemed so comforting, and ramped up the flavor with herbs–mint and thyme–and scallions. I used fresh versions but you could use dried.

I’m thrilled with the result, and thrilled to have a new, easy dinner for one that’s comforting yet bright.

This sponsored post is part of an ongoing collaboration with Sargento, called Flavor Journey. Throughout the year, with the support of Sargento, I’m exploring Middle Eastern cuisine–at home, in Brooklyn, and wherever the flavors may take me. Sponsored posts let me do some of my best work on this blog, and I only ever work with brands whose values and products mesh with the content I love to produce for you. You can read my affiliate disclosure here.

**Recipe**

Creamy Linguine with Mint, Thyme, and Lemon
Serves 1; easily doubled

Ingredients
4 ounces linguine
1/3 cup whole milk yogurt, preferably Greek yogurt
1 egg
1 tablespoon Parmesan cheese, plus a little extra for garnish
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon chopped fresh mint, plus a few leaves for garnish
1/4 teaspoon chopped fresh thyme
Zest of half a lemon
1 scallion, thinly sliced

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook the pasta, following the package directions, until al dente–about 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, in a small mixing bowl, beat together the yogurt, egg, the Parmesan, the salt, mint, thyme, lemon zest, and chopped scallion.

Just before the pasta is done, add 2 tablespoons of hot cooking water to the yogurt mixture and whisk it in to temper the egg. Drain the pasta and immediately add it to the yogurt mixture. Toss to combine. Top with a little more Parmesan, a few grinds of black pepper, and some mint leaves.

When I was a kid, I would perch on a kitchen chair to help mom cook. On weekend mornings especially, my sisters and I could be found flipping pancakes, scrambling eggs, or ducking out of the way as mom pulled hot popovers from the oven. I don’t remember a lot of direct instruction–more learning by doing. Mom made cooking an end in itself, and baking was an activity to look forward to on snow days or lazy Sundays. Eventually, the desire to experiment in the kitchen became second nature.

Later, in high school, we would help mom plan out meals for the week. With long shopping lists for recipes from The Modern Vegetarian Kitchen and Sunday Suppers at Lucques, we headed to the uptown Fairway, then to Whole Foods when the first local branch opened in Englewood. All week, we helped cook.

Our latest cooking project is canning. For the last two years, mom and I have had a date in September to can tomatoes, and this summer we’re aiming to preserve a little fruit, too. She also taught me to love simple things: grilled cheese, chef’s salads, black bean soup. Above is mom pictured making a summertime panzanella one day in the kitchen.

I know I’m a lucky gal to have grown up with a mom like mine, and it made me curious: what did your mom teach you about food, eating, and the kitchen? And, if mom didn’t show you how to cook, was there a mother-like figure who did?

P.S. Mom’s Hot Raisin Bread and Mom’s Chocolate Cake.

As a homemade hummus lover, I’m not often swayed by other dip offerings, especially unhealthful ones (apart from on the Super Bowl).

Fortunately, over the years I’ve amassed an archive of tasty dips based around nuts, herbs, non-chickpea beans, and even bread, and I thought it would be fun to share them with you. I like to have a dip out when friends come over, and most dips make incredible potluck contributions too. And, don’t forget that any dip can double as a spread. I love having leftover muhammara and black bean in particular, since they can really bring a cheese or egg or turkey sandwiches to the next level.

**9 Chipworthy Dips**

1. Cheesy White Bean Dip. Inspired by a restaurant standout I ate in Philadelphia, this hot dip combines creamy white beans with gooey cheese for an enigmatic dip best served with smoked paprika-dusted toasts.

2. Guacamole. Obvious, maybe, but every self-confident cook should be able to whip up some guac for friends in a pinch. Our recipe’s just a starting point – add your special touch, whether it’s dried cumin, fresh corn, or pomegranate seeds.

3. Muhammara. A rich, spicy-sweet Middle Eastern dip that piques the tastebuds and leaves you craving more. Serve with pita chips or toasted fresh pitas, or spread on a sandwich for an unusual twist on grilled cheese.

4. Romesco Sauce. Bread thickens and enriches this dip made with red peppers and almonds. For a change, dip roasted fingerling potatoes into the sauce instead of pita or chips.

5. Baba Ganoush. Often served alongside hummus, baba ganoush shouldn’t be a dark shadow or little brother anymore. Rich and creamy and based around perhaps my favorite vegetable, baba ganoush is best made in the summer–eggplant’s glory days.

6. Spicy Black Bean Dip. These days, chipotle in adobo is a mainstay in the pantry, but just as when we first started serving it, the smoky spiciness of chipotle always seems to register as a surprise. Go easy on the onion if you’d like to tame the dip a bit.

7. Green Harissa. This fresh mix of herbs, lime juice, and oil turns into a luscious green dip invented to complement meat or fish. But that doesn’t stop us from piling it on top of dips. It’s especially great paired with crackers and goat cheese.

8. Walnut-Miso Sauce. This vegan sauce gets richness from walnuts and olive oil, plus umami from a spoonful of miso. Try it with carrot sticks–raw or roasted.

9. Tahini Aoli. Simple fridge staples combine to form a creamy, exciting dip. Great on a plate with vegetables, beside sweet potato fries, and on top of falafel.

The other Tuesday night I did the thing where I invited friends over before thinking about what I would serve them for dinner. Four and a half years after moving to Brooklyn when everyone I knew lived in Manhattan, and a year after I wrote about these Brie and Red Pepper Crostini as bites I could serve to people stopping by unannounced–except for that never happened–we live in the midst of friends close enough to come over for an impromptu Tuesday night dinner. Lucky!

Only I didn’t have much to serve these friends, and I invited them for about a half hour too early to get deep into cooking anything. As I sprinted home on my bike, I mentally scanned the contents of my fridge and pantry imagining what I could whip up, and fixating on certain ingredients – extra asparagus from these, pre-grated cheese from a taco party, a lot of basil from a filming project we’d been working on over the weekend, and a container of the salad dressing I can’t get enough of. By the time I lugged my bike into the basement, I had a plan.

The centerpiece of dinner, the quesadillas, might not hide very well the fact that they were invented by necessity. The ingredients do appear a little hodgepodge. But as soon as you take a bite you’ll see why I’ve made these repeatedly in the weeks since Tuesday night’s dinner. The creamy chipotle spread brings a kick and a luscious richness. As the cheese melts, it glues the quesadilla together and enrobes the asparagus stalks, which are a nod to the season and balance out a the otherwise indulgent mix of ingredients.

I served these with a salad – you could do greens topped with avocado and radish, perhaps – and some tomato soup.

**Recipe**

Asparagus Chipotle Quesadillas
Serves 4; easily scaled up or down

These also happen to be an excellent lunch or dinner for one – just make one quesadilla instead of 4. Or, if you’d like to serve as appetizers, cut each quesadilla into four or five wedges and plate around a bowl of Cilantro-Lime Crema. These are gluten free if you use corn tortillas.

Ingredients
20 asparagus stalks, washed and trimmed by snapping off the bottoms where they snap off naturally
Olive oil
salt
1/2 cup mayonnaise
4 teaspoons finely chopped chipotle pepper with adobo sauce from the can – use a bit less if you or your guests are sensitive to spice
1 cup grated cheddar
4 8-inch flour tortillas or 8 smaller corn tortillas.

Preheat oven to 375°F. Toss the asparagus with about 2 tablespoons olive oil and several big pinches of salt.

In a small bowl, combine the mayo and the chipotle. Taste for spiciness, adding more adobo or mayo to suit your tastes.

For each quesadilla: Spread one half of each tortilla with chipotle mayo. Sprinkle the other half with cheese. Lay down the asparagus in the cheese – it’s fine if the tips stick out. Fold the chipotle half over the cheese-asparagus half and transfer each tortilla to a baking sheet brushed with oil. Brush the tops of the quesadillas with oil as well.

Bake for 15 minutes, until the tortillas are puffed and golden, the cheese is melted, and the asparagus has browned. Serve as soon as possible. (Though to be honest, these are also good room temp.)

Join me in a collective moan, please. My three-year-old MacBook died this morning as I went to turn it on to finish this post. I’ve got worse problems than photo editing, currently, such as retrieving an insane amount of data, but today we’re going to make do with just one photo in a post. The rest of the pretty pictures are on a hard drive that just keeled over and died. (Don’t worry, I have back-ups, so I’m not totally panicked, just temporarily adrift.)

But I wanted to get this post to you before you read it and think, “What? Apples? It’s May: strawberry season, asparagus time, month of rhubarb.”

For those of you already thinking that, here’s what happened to me last Saturday, while most of the city was still sleeping. I beat the crowds to the farmers’ market only to find, for the second visit in a row, the farmstands void of anything springy, apart from a few greenhouse greens and some nettles (which I bought and cooked, thanks to Hank Shaw’s smart instructions not to kill myself eating raw, then blended into a pesto).

Instead of anything springy, I spent my dollars on apples. Five Fuji apples for eating, a couple Empire apples for baking up something nice. I didn’t want to bake a cinnamon-and-brown-sugar-laced cake, though. I wanted to turn my apples into something as springy as the 65-and-sunny weather that was making us so impatient for spring produce.

Out went the spices and walnuts and in went lemon, yogurt, and almond flour for lightness.

You’re not going to trick anyone into thinking she’s eating strawberries and rhubarb, but while we wait for the harvest here in the northeast, this cake is a yummy early spring substitute.

**Recipe**

Almond, Apple & Lemon Cake
Serves 10 to 12

This recipe is adapted from Grandma Esther’s Plum and Walnut Cake. Some of you didn’t love how there was a whole cup of oil, so I replaced half with yogurt in this lighter version.

Ingredients
1/2 cup oil (I used half olive oil and half safflower, would be okay with all olive oil if you like the taste of olive oil cakes.
1/2 cup whole milk yogurt
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 tablespoon lemon zest
3 large eggs
1 1/2 cups flour
1/2 cup almond flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup sliced almonds, toasted
2 cups chopped apples from 3 peeled and cored Empire apples

Oil a 9-inch square baking pan. Preheat the oven to 350°F.

In a medium mixing bowl, beat the oil, yogurt, sugar, eggs and lemon zest.

In a smaller bowl, combine the white and almond flours, salt, and baking soda. Pour the dry ingredients over the wet and fold in. Fold in the apple and the walnuts.

Bake 1 hour to 1 hour 5 minutes, checking often as you get to the end to make sure the cake’s not burning, until the top is crisp and brown and a toothpick or skewer inserted in comes out clean.

Do you ever go to a falafel joint and not order a falafel? Me neither. It’s too hard, like going to Shake Shack and skipping the ShackBurger. As a happy medium, at the falafel place I’ll occasionally add an extra ingredient to my sandwich: fried eggplant.

I love eggplant, always. When fried, the slices adds a lusciousness to the sandwich, as if the smooth tahini sauce and rich falafel weren’t enough.

Were you to scroll your eyes down the menu at a falafel joint and squint at the listings below the main event, you might notice an option called “Sabich Sandwich.” An Israeli alternative to the falafel, the sandwich is made of egg, eggplant, and tahini sauce.

It has has a murky origin but a bright future in my life: it’s easy to make at home if you bake rather than fry the eggplant, healthful without being austere, and satisfying because it’s still plenty rich. Here’s my version, which fits into my brown bag lunch routine beautifully.

(I make the eggplant and hard-boiled eggs in advance, then whip together the herby tahini sauce and assemble the sandwich when I want to eat or pack lunch.)

This sponsored post is part of an ongoing collaboration with Sargento, called Flavor Journey. Throughout the year, with the support of Sargento, I’m exploring Middle Eastern cuisine–at home, in Brooklyn, and wherever the flavors may take me. Sponsored posts let me do some of my best work on this blog, and I only ever work with brands whose values and products mesh with the content I love to produce for you. You can read my affiliate disclosure here.

**Recipe**

Sabich Sandwich
Makes 2 sandwiches, not necessarily all at the same time, and you can easily scale amounts up or down

If you have pickles around – preferably ones with some spice – feel free to sub them for the cucumber to make this more authentic. Slices of tomato in summer would be welcome too.

Ingredients
1 small eggplant
Coarse salt
Olive oil
2 eggs
1 small cucumber, peeled and sliced thinly lengthwise
1/4 cup tahini
2 tablespoons lemon juice, from about 2 lemons
2 tablespoons water
2 teaspoon olive oil
About 1 teaspoon minced fresh cilantro
About 1 teaspoon minced fresh parsley
1/2 teaspoon minced jalepeño (just the flesh, not the seeds; optional)
4 slices good bread, or 2 pita, tops cut off

Preheat the oven to 450°F. Slice the eggplant and lay the slices on a paper towel-lined baking sheet. Salt them well, then flip and salt again. Let rest for about 20 minutes. Press down on the eggplant slices with paper towels to remove a lot of the moisture. Toss in a bowl with 2 tablespoons olive oil, then arrange in one layer on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes until the edges are dark brown. Remove from the oven and let cool to room temperature. You can make these up to 2 days in advance.

Meanwhile, boil the eggs: place both eggs in a small stockpot. Add cold water to cover. Set over medium-high heat and bring to a boil. Keep an eye on the pot. As soon as it boils, turn off the heat. Let the eggs sit for 7 minutes, then remove with a slotted spoon and run under cold water until cool to the touch. You can do this up to 5 days in advance. Store the cooled eggs in the fridge.

Whisk together the tahini, lemon juice, 2 teaspoon olive oil, herbs, and jalepeno until creamy. Add a pinch of salt and taste; add more if you like.

For each sandwich: spread all the slices of bread (or the pita) with tahini sauce. Peel and slice the hardboiled egg and layer it on top. Sprinkle with salt. Layer about 4 slices of roasted eggplant, then cover with the cucumber. Top the sandwich with the second tahini-lined slice of bread. Cut in half if you wish!

On a whim and a tip from Tim of New York Pizza Project, we just signed up for a half share of a nearby CSA. In a little more than a month, we’ll be making biweekly trips to pick up organic vegetables trucked to Brooklyn from upstate New York. Suddenly, instead of choosing to cook with chard or kale, we’re going to be dreaming up ways to get through what I assume will be an unimaginable surplus of greens.

My family belonged to a CSA for a little while when I was in high school. I remember carrying such an abundance of apples home one fall day that they escaped from the bag and rolled down the driveway in a dozen different directions, making me curse those apples instead of cherish them. So while I love fresh produce (and sometimes feel like I don’t get enough of it) and adore making improvisational meals from whatever food happens to be around, I have to say, I’m terrified for the cornucopia of produce that’s going to be overflowing on our kitchen counters soon.

So, tell me, have you ever belonged to a CSA? Do you have tips for getting through the growing season without overdosing or getting frustrated with the yield? I can’t wait to hear, and of course I’ll be sharing the recipes that result from our half-share harvest.

P.S. How to appreciate the spring fruits and veggies that are already (or almost) here.

Tonight, after a packed day, I’m heading to our monthly girls’ potluck, still known as Mag Club in spite of not having adhered to the original meaning (we’ll all present an article from a magazine! and a dish the article inspired! yeah, right!) for years. These days, instead of dating and parties, we talk of engagements, weddings, and apartment decoration. In spite of these topics, we manage to have fun getting together.

Back to that packed day. One of the challenges of living and working in New York City is the extended time we spend away from our apartments. To leave at 7am and return when the clock strikes 10pm, after work, dinner, and the gym is exhausting in its own right, never mind the work and plans that take a toll on people like me who enjoy fresh air, homemade lunches, and 8 hours of sleep. Being out all day often means carrying a lot of bags, too, wedging ourselves plus our gym clothes, lunch bags, and scarves into an already slim column of air on the 4 train.

Even when it means an extra bag, I like to bring a homemade dish to Mag Club. (We don’t dock membership if you buy sushi, sesame noodles, or pizza, but have you met me? I’m the queen of homemade.) Since everyone has become pretty health-conscious, my last few carb-y contributions (Swiss Chard Lasagna, and a huge container of fried rice) weren’t ideal for the occasion. I decided to eliminate the carbs and load up on vegetables in tonight’s roasted vegetable salad with chickpeas and goat cheese inspired by the sweet-and-tangy flavor combination of eggplant caponata. I hope you – and the girls tonight – like it!

And here’s how to be a potluck party all-star.

**Recipe**

Roasted Caponata Salad with Chickpeas & Goat Cheese
Serves 6 as a side

Most of the time I roast my vegetables nearly to oblivious. I like them crispy and as crunchy as possible. Not so here – I wanted the zucchini, eggplant, peppers, and shallots to be just tender, a little juicy, like they’d been gently sautéed. That just means this recipes comes together more quickly!

Ingredients
1 Japanese eggplant
Coarse salt
1 zucchini
1 red bell pepper
1 shallot
Olive oil
1/2 teaspoon sugar
juice from half a lemon
About 3 ounces goat cheese, crumbled
One 14-ounce can chickpeas

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Slice the eggplant lengthwise and place the slices on a paper towel. Salt them generously and then flip them and salt again.

While the eggplant is resting, cut the zucchini and pepper in a half-inch dice. Place on the baking sheet. Blot the eggplant slices, then cut those in a half-inch dice too. Toss with olive oil–about 1 tablespoon. Put the pan in the oven and cook for 5 minutes. Meanwhile, dice the shallot, then toss it in with the other vegetables. Bake for 12-15 more minutes, until the vegetables are cooked and just barely colored. Squeeze most of the lemon juice over the veggies and sprinkle on the sugar. Cook 2 more minutes, then remove and let cool for 10 minutes.

Toss slightly cooled vegetables with the chickpeas and the rest of the lemon juice. Taste and add another drizzle of olive oil and some salt to taste. Layer half of the salad into a serving bowl and sprinkle with half the crumbled goat cheese. Pile on the rest of the salad, then the rest of the goat cheese. Serve warm, room temperature, or cold.

On Sunday nights, as we clean the apartment and pay bills and get ready for Monday (and, these days, count down the minutes til Mad Men), I’ve taken on a quick cooking project that helps keep us eating healthfully and well at home all week.

I quickly roast up two chicken breasts, cool them, and store them in the fridge. Then I can make chicken sandwiches or chop chop salads, have an easy topping for greens, or make clean-out-the-fridge quesadillas that are actually good. Knowing that there’s a potential dinner in the fridge is a huge deterrent from ordering take-out. Now I realize that Sunday cooking for the week isn’t a totally original plan, but this chicken situation causes so little mess I figured I’d tell you about it in case you wanted some motivation.

The bonus is that I get to snack on the crispy chicken skin, since it won’t stay crispy for long. (Read Amateur Gourmet’s post on why you shouldn’t toss crispy chicken skin.) By the way, I use bone-in, skin-on chicken because it stays much more flavorful than boneless skinless.

Here’s all that you do: Turn the oven to 425°F. Take two bone-in, skin-on chicken breasts and place them on a foil- or parchment-lined baking sheet. Rub them with some softened butter or drizzle with olive oil, then season quite generously with salt and pepper. Bake for 3o to 35 minutes, until the skin is golden and the chicken is cooked through.

Make It! is a series where I share smart tips for prepping, making, and presenting food in the easiest possible way. See tips from previous columns, like how to keep rust off your muffin tins and lettuce fresh in the fridge.

We were talking again about Brussels sprouts recently, their transformation from weak-kneed punishment vegetable to coveted gourmet side. How did it happen? The answer, I argued, is roasting.

Even if you like steamed asparagus (unlike steamed sprouts), you’ll love asparagus that’s been roasted like sprouts. Oil, high heat, and salt turn almost any vegetable into a French fry-like edible.

I go one step further with this recipe. I took asparagus, and I roasted stalks between buttery sheets of phyllo dough that turn crispy just like the asparagus they enrobe. There’s also cheese–melty brie–and fresh thyme.

The idea came from a desire to expand my repertoire of asparagus cookery, since I guarantee we’ll be eating bundle sof it for the next few weeks. We’ll need variety. There’s always been puff pastry-wrapped asparagus, and I decided to try the same concept but with flaky, crispy phyllo.

Working with phyllo takes patience. The sheets that make this dish also have a tendency to stick together or tear. Be careful, and be patient. Once the asparagus packets have cooked, you’ll never be able to notice a little rip. But once you’re done wrapping up your asparagus, you’ll feel plenty confident with phyllo, perhaps confident enough to embark on the ultimate phyllo project–baklava.

These would be perfect as a first course at a Mother’s Day brunch or set out at any cocktail party you host this spring.

Find tons more phyllo recipes here, and check out my Mini Shrimp Phyllo Cups with Dill Pesto and Feta.

I wrote this sponsored post  in partnership with Athens Foods. I only ever share sponsored content when I really love it. (You can read my affiliate disclosure here if you’re interested.) Athens is running a Get Social contest you can check out here. Thanks, Athens!

**Recipe**

Asparagus in a Phyllo Blanket with Brie and Thyme
Makes 16 appetizers

You can double or triple the number of appetizers you make, but be sure to leave plenty of time to wrap. You’ll also want a pastry brush.

Ingredients
About 1 bunch asparagus (you’ll need 32 stalks)
Olive oil
Salt
12 sheets phyllo dough from half a package of Athens Food Fillo Dough
4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, melted
3 sprigs thyme, leaves removed
About 1/4 pound brie, cut into bite-sized pieces (fine to leave the rind on, unless you’re averse to it)
1 tablespoon sesame seeds

Preheat the oven to 375°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment.

Wash and dry the aspargus. Trim them by snapping off the bottom – where each stalk snaps naturally when bent. Place in a bowl and toss with 1 tablespoon olive oil and a big pinch of salt.

Clear out a workspace. You’ll need room to put the phyllo on dry counterspace and to place a cutting board nearby. You’ll also want room for the bowls of brie, thyme, and asparagus. I tell you this because phyllo sheets can be finicky, and you’ll want to streamline your work and not be racing around the kitchen once you’ve started.

Unwrap the phyllo dough. Place the pile of sheets on the dry counterspace you cleared out. Place a piece of plastic wrap on top. Cover with a damp paper towel large enough to cover the sheets. This prevents the phyllo from sticking.

Take a sheet of phyllo and place it on your cutting board. Brush with butter. Layer on another sheet of phyllo. Brush that with butter. Layer on one more sheet. Cut the phyllo in half horizontally and vertically. Arrange two stalks of asparagus side by side on the outside edge of each of your four rectangles. Sprinkle with a few thyme leaves and dot 3 pieces of brie along the stalks. Roll the dough around the filling, moving inwards. Brush the end with butter to seal. Transfer to the baking sheet.

Repeat this four more times, until you have used up 12 sheets of phyllo and 32 asparagus. Brush all the asparagus packets with butter. Sprinkle with sesame seeds.

Bake 8 to 12 minutes, until the phyllo is very golden and the asparagus has shrunken and browned. Let cool for about 5 minutes, then serve warm or room temperature.

The bright pink-covered cookbook that emerged from our brains almost two years ago contains a lot of recipe wins, recipes I use all the time. Even though I should have memorized the recipe, I’ll breezily flip to page 92 when friends are coming for dinner, in order to check the ratio of peanut butter to sesame oil to sugar in BGSK Peanut Noodles.

A lot of other people like the noodles too. Maybe they’re aware of them because I mention them in practically every post. When we asked bloggers to review the book around pub date, a lot of them naturally chose that recipe. I think I knew they would.

About my other favorite recipe, chocolate-flecked clafoutis, there have been crickets. Not a word! I have no idea if anyone but me has ever made it. Seriously. This wouldn’t be a problem if the recipe was a dud. But it’s so good! Almost as delicate as a pot de creme but with a rustic golden crust and the most straightforward directions. The clafoutis in my mind, should be a crowd pleaser.

I remember when I developed it, I was looking for a cinch of a recipe. I was bent on crafting a sweet dish formal enough to serve after a dinner party but so easy it wouldn’t occupy much real estate in your brain as you plotted out crostini and wine and table settings and chicken preparations and salad.

I learned to make clafoutis at a week-long French basics class I took one summer in college and have loved the idea of the recipe ever since – a throw-together dish that as presentable and homey as a pancake beneath its pretty crackled top. You will love it too, now that I’ve told you that you have to make it. Right?

Traditional clafoutis batter wraps unpitted cherries in the batter. You have to be careful as you eat it, spitting out the pits with every bite. Since cherries are seasonal, I replaced them with chocolate in this recipe, to make clafoutis doable all year round. If you get into it, you could switch back into seasonal mode–strawberries, then blueberries, then cherries (maybe pit them), then peaches. Leave the chocolate in if you like, or omit it.

Recently, someone wiser than me asked why I didn’t highlight this red-headed stepchild of In the Small Kitchen right here on the blog, if I liked it so much. So, here you go. Chocolate chip clafoutis, this is your moment.

**Recipe**

Chocolate Chip Clafoutis
Serves 6

Ingredients
3 large eggs
1⁄4 cup granulated sugar, plus 1 tablespoon for topping
2 tablespoons light brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
One 3.5-ounce semisweet for topping chocolate bar, finely chopped, or 1⁄2 cup semisweet chocolate chips
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
Lightly whipped cream, for serving (optional)

Preheat the oven to 325°F.

In a medium bowl, beat the eggs, both sugars, and the salt until blended. Whisk in the flour until it’s combined. Add the cream and vanilla, and whisk until smooth. Finally, stir in most of the chocolate pieces, reserving 1 to 2 tablespoons for garnish.

Place the butter in an 8- or 9-inch cast-iron skillet or a cake pan. Put the pan in the oven for 1 minute. Take it out—the butter should be melted—and brush the melted butter all around the bottom and sides. Be careful! The pan will already be hot to the touch.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Sprinkle the remaining 1 tablespoon granulated sugar over the top.

Bake until the clafoutis is set in the center and golden around the edges, about 35 minutes. It will have puffed up, but it will deflate as it cools. Let it cool for at least 10 minutes before serving.

Top the clafoutis with whipped cream, if desired, and scatter the reserved chocolate on top. Serve the clafoutis warm or at room temperature.

The morning countdown to lunch finally ends, and you and your colleagues head out to lunch for burgers, sandwiches, burritos, falafel, or loaded rice bowls. They’re delicious, and it’s a glorious break from the morning’s work.

But then back at your desk a stupor sets in. The afternoon stretches long ahead of you, and your eyelids threaten to collapse onto your cheeks. Coffee, green tea, or strong willpower may help, but sometimes the best way to avoid afternoon snoozes is to skip the heavy, carb-centric lunches to begin with. For just that reason, I’ve pulled together brown bag favorites that’ll inspire you to keep lunch light and afternoons productive.

**11 Low-Carb Brown Bag Lunches**

1. Herby Avocado Hummus. Scoop this nutrient- and protein-packed dip onto carrots, crackers, cucumbers, celery, or whichever crunchy dipper is your fave.

2. Arugula & Radicchio Salad with Pomegranate, Pecans, and Pecorino. Cheese and pecans add protein to my favorite mix of lettuces–arugula plus radicchio. Pretty pomegranate makes the salad exciting. Pack the dressing separately.

3. Creamy Habanero and Tomato Soup. A splash of cream cools down a classic tomato soup punched up with spicy habaneros and smoky chipotle in adobo.

4. Baked Tofu with White Wine, Mustard, and Dill. This tofu gets its flavor from a mustard-y mix of olive oil, lemon, and dill. Pack a few slices of tofu on top of fresh greens or beside cut-up carrots and celery sticks.

5. Miso-Roasted Asparagus. As spring finally gets here, make lunch out of its offerings. Roasting spears of asparagus with a miso marinade turns them rich and filling. Slice a hardboiled egg on top to make lunch complete.

6. Devilish Eggs with Lime and Sriracha. These unexpectedly spicy deviled eggs would also make a meal out of that miso-roasted asparagus. Otherwise, pack a few and snack on them, picnic-style, at your desk.

7. Chicken, Avocado, and Hearts of Palm Chop Chop Salad. A lettuce-free salad rich with avocado, tangy dressing, and hearts of palm, this cool, filling chopped affair will be the envy of nearby coworkers.

8. Cacik. A delicacy eaten during hot summers in Turkey, this yogurt and vegetable dish is half salad, half soup. Add garlic to your taste, or depending on how many colleagues you’ll exhale on this afternoon.

9. Grilled Ratatouille. Summer’s vegetables come together in a cooked salad topped with fresh herbs. But even before summer, you can often find decent zucchini and eggplant at the store. For more protein, chop up your favorite cheese and add it to your lunchbox.

10. Small Kitchen Cobb Salad with Carrot-Tarragon Vinaigrette. Cobb salads contain all the good stuff–sometimes so much they might seem to undermine eating a salad at all. But really, what better vessel than greens to convey bacon, chicken, avocado, and egg to your mouth?

11. Romaine and Radicchio Salad with Shaved Fennel and Canlis Dressing. Plenty of Parmesan give this salad not just umami but also heft. It’s a perfect vessel for whatever extra protein you prefer–poached chicken, canned tuna, or, if you’re lucky, leftover steak.

In college, I was interviewing for a summer job at the travel publisher Let’s Go when the editors seemed about to wrap up our meeting. Before I got up to leave, they had one more question for me. “If we hire you,” they said, “what will you be remembered for around the office?”

“My tendency to bring in homemade sweets,” I said, thinking, perhaps, of my Toasted Oatmeal Pecan Scones.

Clever as it was, my response might have been bad for my career, according to one of the other coders in a recent Skillcrush HTML/CSS course I took.

One Friday during the online course, we were exchanging emails about the best career advice we’d ever gotten. I was surprised by the tip this other student had received.

“My mentor once told me, ‘Dear, don’t bake,’” she wrote.

Here’s the backstory:

“[The mentor] came up in the 1960s at this all-male magazine. She really was a pioneer, and was one of our first female senior editors. I think what she meant was that the guys in charge are all too eager to dismiss you because you are a woman. You don’t need to remind them with cookies. Let them think about your excellent work, not your excellent recipes, when they think of you…Either that or my cookies really sucked.”

That summer at Let’s Go, I baked everything in my apartment into cookies, especially as our deadline neared. (Granola cookies, anyone?) We got Let’s Go: Europe finished, and I got a job there again the next summer. Since then, I’ve baked at least once at every job or internship I’ve had.

But this advice made me wonder if baking can cause pigeonholing, in spite of  the affectionate (or hungry) visits to your cubicle that homemade cookies may bring. So I was curious, do you bring sweets to work or steer clear of toting baked goods to the office?

P.S. Cookies for your colleagues, if you do decide to bake.

How to plan out an apartment-friendly wedding registry, which includes dreamily mapping out your future kitchen.

A blog that goes deep into one ingredient, cooking 5 recipes in 5 days, from cauliflower to carrots.

Lots of great answers to the Quora question “What is the Best Way to Support the Body to Its Optimal Potential?” My favorite: real food, move around, sleep enough.

Wonderful Brooklyn blogger Olga Massov shares her kitchen and cooking know-how on Pantry Confidential.

And my Chocolate Mousse Pie featured on the delightful Sweet Paul Magazine!

As much as I love eating chocolate, cooking spaghetti, and sharing cookies with friends, I don’t love reading about food. I haven’t read Anthony Bourdain or Feeding a Yen or anything by Julia Child. My foodie reading taps out after recipe intros and exposes about processed food (which, okay, I could read about a million of. Also love reading about nutrition. Anyway.)

A few weeks ago an article about salad in the New York Times Magazine changed my feelings about pure and simple food writing. The piece was about Canlis, a top restaurant in Seattle I’ve never been to, and it was practically a hagiography–to salad. The salad uses the best steakhouse standards, writes Sam Sifton, beginning with romaine lettuce, bacon, croutons, cherry tomatoes.

Rapt, I kept reading. The salad had more to offer. Mint, oregano, scallions. And a dressing made from lemon, olive oil, and a single coddled egg which emulsifies and enriches the dressing without killing off the citrus’s tanginess or becoming heavy, like some vinaigrettes. The salad sounded good, but I knew it was the dressing I would make first. I couldn’t get it out of my head. Seriously.

In the five weeks since I read that ode to Canlis’s salad, I’ve made the dressing half a dozen times. I use different vegetables as a vehicle for conveying it to my mouth, but this combination of crunchy romaine, sweet fennel, and slightly bitter radicchio is my favorite. Don’t skimp on the cheese here, which adds saltiness and makes the salad reminiscent of good old-fashioned caesar.

P.S. Here’s another of my favorite salad dressings and a video about whisking together vinaigrettes.

**Recipe**

Romaine and Radicchio Salad with Shaved Fennel and Canlis Dressing

Serves one generously or two as side salads, with extra dressing
Adapted from Canlis, via the New York Times

You can improvise far and wide with this salad base, but here are some of my favorites: cubed avocado, a handful of cooked Puy lentils, 1 or 2 finely chopped anchovies, and then of course cubed poached or roasted chicken to make this a meal.

Ingredients
1/2 cup olive oil
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice, from 1 or 2 lemons
1 egg
About 12 big romaine lettuce leaves, torn into bite-sized pieces
1/2 radicchio, outer leaves and core removed, sliced thin
1/2 fennel bulb, core removed and slivered on a mandolin
1/4 cup grated Parmesan (you can do this in a food processor to get a nice crumbly texture)
1 small carrot, peeled, trimmed, and grated
Kosher salt
Freshly ground pepper

In a large mixing bowl or salad bowl, whisk together the olive oil and lemon juice.

Place the egg in mug. Pour boiling water over it and set a timer for 1 minute. When it beeps, carefully remove the egg and run it under cold water until it’s cool to the touch. Crack the egg into the olive oil and lemon juice mixture and whisk together immediately. You’ll see the dressing emulsify. Add 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt and pour most of the dressing into a spouted measuring cup or a jar to keep it in the fridge.

Add the torn romaine, radicchio, fennel, Parmesan, and carrot to the salad bowl. Pour some of the reserved dressing over, toss, then taste and add salt and pepper to your taste. Toss again.

Have you ever kept a dinner journal? Even though this blog is technically an account of what we’ve eaten, I don’t capture all of our humble everyday meals here–that’d be a repetitious and poorly lit project. But I love the idea of writing down what we’ve had for dinner. Not because I’m some insanely sentimental type. Nor do I want to obsess over every last morsel I’ve ingested. It’s that I develop amnesia about recent dinner triumphs at exactly the moment when I’m trying to figure out what we should eat on a given night.

There’s always pasta. There are bowl dinners. Recently, we’ve been making soups and eating them with salads (my choice) or sandwiches (his). Neither of us is all that picky, and one of us is a food blogger. But still, the dinner idea well runs dry. When it does, we rack our brains.

“We had something last week that we liked, right?” he’ll say.

“What did we used to eat?” I’ll ask.

When we rack our brains especially hard, we’ll often happen upon one answer: bean burgers. We do like bean burgers, I’ll remember. They use cheap pantry ingredients and no meat and are particularly amenable to incorporating whatever ingredients are on hand–canned beans, already cooked dry beans, or quick-cooking red lentils.

And that single limp scallion in the vegetable drawer.

Have you developed a system for remembering favorite meals on nights when you don’t know what to cook?

I’ve been cooking a lot of lentils recently, as I explore the food of the Middle East, and that’s where I turned last week when we decided to make bean burgers for dinner.I’ve been making little black lentils, homey brown lentils, and super quick-cooking red lentils. The latter are in so many of the Middle Eastern recipes I’ve been drooling over–especially a luxuriously rich lentil soup that takes advantage of the way that red lentils break apart when cooked a few extra minutes and become creamy.

Red lentils form the base of these burgers too, which turned out to be a good choice. If you’ve ever made such a lentil soup, you know that lentils solidify as they cool. So if you make the burgers thirty minutes in advance, you’ll find they’re really easy to cook, not at all likely to fall apart in the pan, unlike some more delicate burgers. I flavored these with smoked paprika, which mellows and complements the earthiness of the lentils.

This sponsored post is part of an ongoing collaboration with Sargento, called Flavor Journey. Throughout the year, with the support of Sargento, I’ll be exploring Middle Eastern cuisine–at home, in Brooklyn, and wherever the flavors may take me. Sponsored posts let me do some of my best work on this blog, and I only ever work with brands whose values and products mesh with the content I love to produce for you. You can read my affiliate disclosure here if you’re interested.

 **Recipe**

Smoky Red Lentil Burgers
Makes 8 burgers; serves 4 with sides

I’ve shown the lentil burgers tucked into pita breads and garnished with tahini aioli and lots of fresh cilantro. But my favorite way to eat them is piled on top of garlicky sautéed greens. You could certainly also eat on a hamburger bun with mayo, lettuce, and tomato–just like a beef burger. Leftover burgers make a great snack or lunch. Turn the same mixture into little red lentil croquettes if you’re looking for a vegetarian finger food option.

You’ll need a mesh strainer on hand to drain the lentils.

Ingredients
1 1/2 cups red lentils
Olive oil
1 scallion, white and green parts chopped
2 garlic cloves
1 carrot, grated
1 1/2 teaspoons smoked paprika
Coarse salt
Half an 8-inch pita, toasted and cooled
juice from half a lime
1 egg, lightly beaten

Bring about 3 quarts of water to boil in a pot. Add 1/2 teaspoon salt and the lentils. Cook for 12 minutes, until the lentils are very soft and just beginning to fall apart. Drain in a wire mesh strainer, stirring the lentils to get out as much water as possible. They’ll sort of fall apart as you do this, which is what you want.

In a small pan, sauté the scallion, garlic, carrot in 1 tablespoon olive oil over medium-low heat for about 10 minutes, until the vegetables are soft. Add the paprika and 1/2 teaspoon salt and stir for another minute.

Transfer the lentils to a mixing bowl and add the cooked vegetables.

Tear up the cooled pita and place in a mini food processor. Pulse to create crumbs. You should have about a 1/2 cup.

Add the crumbs, egg, lime, and 1 tablespoon olive oil to the bowl with the lentils. Mix well to distribute everything evenly. Using about 1/4 cup of the mixture each, form into 8 patties. Place on a cutting board and store in the fridge for about 30 minutes, so the burgers can firm up. You can cover the burgers and leave them overnight, too.

Heat a large frying pan or a cast iron skillet over medium heat for 5 minutes. Add oil to about 1/4-inch depth. Cook the patties 5 to 6 minutes a side, until golden, then flip and repeat on second side. Drain on paper towels, and serve atop greens or inside a pita.

In a small kitchen, you don’t need a lot of equipment to cook great food. Still, you do need some pots, pans, utensils, and dishes–obviously. In this occasional column, we’ll be stocking our kitchen cabinets one pot, plate, or appliance at a time. 

Today, we’ve got the Dutch oven. I use my 5 1/2-quart Le Creuset at least four times a week. You can sauté vegetables, brown meat, simmer soup, boil pasta, roast chicken, and make bread. In one pot!

Le Creuset pots are not cheap, but they last forever. And clearly, they’re workhorses. The iron core conducts heat evenly, while the enamel surface is easy to clean and more or less nonstick.

Top to bottom, some of the miraculous dishes you’ll ladle out of your Dutch oven.

Mussels with Chorizo and Cherry Tomatoes

Green Chile Chicken

Lamb Tagine with Carrots and Fennel

P.S. A thoughtful reflection on what happens when you don’t own the best Dutch oven but make do with something cheaper.

This Daily News piece has fun recipes for leftover matzo – including a few I contributed! (By the way: add your extra charset to chicken salad.)

The history of Tupperware, with some great mid-century visuals.

Apparently the U.S. has a raisin cartel. (via Catherine Rampell)

The worker bee’s complete guide to eating in the office.

The following post is written in celebration of my half birthday, which occured on Monday–April 1st.  I couldn’t have posted this on my actual half birthday, since it was April Fool’s and you wouldn’t have believed for a second that I was serious in what I’m about to say.

I was born on the best day of the year. October first. Ten-one. 10/1. A palindrome. Binary. A Libra.

Since my birthday falls on such a singular day,  I always made a big deal of celebrations when I was younger. One birthday wasn’t enough–I prized not just my half birthday but also my quarter and three-quarter birthdays.

To this day, each morning I wake up on the first of the of the month, I calculate the fraction of my age and rejoice a little (or mourn the ascent of 30). Most of the time I keep these celebrations private, confined to the interior of my head, because normal people don’t celebrate half birthdays, let alone 5/12th birthdays.

Most normal people. At camp, at age 10 and 2/3,  I met Becky, who was born on February 1st. We only spent summer months together, and so we celebrated July 1st (my three-quarter birthday; also: Canada Day) and August 1st (her half birthday) with gusto. At college, lovely Lisa, my roommate, turned 21 then 22 on March 1st. My sister’s husband was born on April 1st. I like to think we’ve all bonded, as I do with every firstie that I meet. I feel a natural affinity with any and all of you, as I assume you prize coming in first as much as I do. (Firsties are naturally a little competitive.)

While there was a period when I thought I’d convinced everyone I knew that half birthdays should be celebrated–mine, yours, whoever’s, in reality, only my sister and occasionally my mom would comply.

But were you to celebrate half birthdays, you might puzzle over what to make. A half cake? And then what to do with the other half?

Today’s confection has half-i-ness in its nature: it’s half cookie and half cake. It’s cute and a little silly, which means the cookie cake might suit not only half birthdays but also other ridiculous and whimsical events that need fêting in an offbeat and childlike way. The recipe comes from a Martha Stewart collector’s edition called “Cakes & Cupcakes,” and honestly no one could have invented this but Martha. It’s perfect.

**Recipe**

Giant Layered Cookie Cake
Serves 16
Adapted ever so slightly from “Cakes & Cupcakes: The Best of Martha Stewart Living”

Ingredients
4 cups flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
1 1/2 cups light brown sugar
3/4 cup white sugar
3 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 eggs plus 2 egg yolks
3/4 heavy cream
2 cups chocolate chips
2 pounds (4 8-ounce packages) cream cheese
1/2 cup confectioners’ sugar, sifted

Preheat the oven to 350°F.

Line several baking sheets with parchment. Find a ruler, measuring tape, or circle you believe is 8 inches in diameter. Keep it around.

In a medium mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt. Set aside.

With an electric mixer on medium, beat 6 tablespoons of the butter and the sugars together. The mixture will come together, first into crumbs, then into more of a batter, but it won’t fully become creamy. Beat for about 3 minutes. Add the eggs, egg yolks, and vanilla, and beat. Reduce the speed to low. Add half the flour, then the cream, then the rest of the flour. With a spatula, stir in the choclate chips.

For each of the 5 layers, drop 1 level cup of batter onto the center of a baking sheet. Using a small offset spatula, spread it into an 8-inch round. Measure with the ruler or 8-inch round you located earlier. Bake until edges are pale brown, about 12 minutes.

Remove the sheet from the oven and use the offset spatula (cleaned and dried) to nudge the cookie back into a circle. Return to the oven and bake until the edges are golden brown, another 8 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack to cool. Repeat with all the rest of the batter.

With an electric mixer, beat the remaining 2 tablespoons of butter, cream cheese, and confectioners’ sugar until fluffy. Spread equal amounts of icing on top of 4 of the cooled cookies. Stack the frosted cookies and place the unfrosted one on top. Refrigerate at least 30 minutes, or overnight. Bring to room temperature before serving.

Yesterday, my sister Kate texted me to say she had made kibbeh for Lebanese Easter. Kibbeh is one of the dishes I’ve come across in my research on Middle Eastern cuisine, and it’s on my to-make list. But Kate lives in Arkansas, and she’s neither Lebanese nor Christian. Apparently, she’s on her own Middle Eastern journey.

As for me, today my Middle Eastern explorations take us to lamejun, spelled in a dozen variations. Whatever the spelling, the dish is common in both Armenia and Turkey.

I remember eating “pitza” almost daily when I visited Turkey–fresh flatbread with cheese, spices, and vegetables. But in my research, I found that most lamejun recipes used beef or lamb and no cheese at all.

To mesh my memories of cheesy Turkish pitza with what I was finding out about lamejun, I headed to Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn for the second time this month. This time, I stopped at Damascus, where I bought big floppy whole wheat pitas, at least twice as large and half as thin as the pitas I normally see. They would be the crust for my lamejuns.

Next, in a variation sanctioned by Ana Sortun, author of Spiceand chef at Oleana in Massachusetts, I swapped out the red meat and used ground chicken instead. Once you’ve bought your ground chicken, the process is really easy: you gently liven up the meat with onion, garlic, sumac, and paprika, then press it onto a round of pita or a big piece of lavash. I also used Sargento’s really thin slices of provolone, in an effort to bring back the cheese I remembered.

While baking, the chicken on the pizzas firm up, and the cheese bubbles and browns. Since the crust is so thin, these cool down right away – but they’re just as good at room temperature as they are warm. I like them cut into 4-inch squares or thereabouts, served as part of an appetizer or mezze spread, or packed for a picnic. You can also eat bigger pieces, rolled up in little tubes. We feasted on our leftovers as snacks all week–turns out lamejun is also good straight from the fridge.

This sponsored post is part of an ongoing collaboration with Sargento, called Flavor Journey. Throughout the year, with the support of Sargento, I’ll be exploring Middle Eastern cuisine–at home, in Brooklyn, and wherever the flavors may take me. Sponsored posts let me do some of my best work on this blog, and I only ever work with brands whose values and products mesh with the content I love to produce for you. You can read my affiliate disclosure here if you’re interested.

**Recipe**

Chicken Lamejun with Sumac and Red Peppers
Serves a crowd as an appetizer

Ingredients
1 onion, peeled and chopped coarsely
2 cloves garlic
2 tablepsoons tomato paste
1/2 teaspoon paprika
3/4 teaspoon thyme
1 1/2 teaspoons sumac
1 teaspoon salt
1 egg
1 pound ground chicken
12 slices Sargento ultra thin provolone cheese
4 whole wheat lavash or 2 big pitas, halved horizontally to make 4 rounds
4 scallions, white and light green parts chopped, sprinkled on right before baking
2 roasted peppers, rinsed well, drained, and minced
Chopped parsley, for garnish

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper to make clean up easier.

In a mini food processor, pulse the onions and garlic til they form a paste. Add the tomato paste, paprika, thyme, sumac, and salt and pulse to combine. Tranfer to a bowl. Add the chicken and the egg and mix to combine everything evenly.

Put the pita or lavash crusts onto the baking sheets, and place 3 slices of provolone on each. Spread one quarter of the chicken mixture on each crust as evenly as possible, leaving almost no space around the edge. I found that clean hands were the best tool for this. Scatter each pizza with a few of the chopped scallions.

Bake the pizzas for 12 minutes, until the chicken is firm and the cheese is melty. Sprinkle the pizzas with salt, minced red pepper, and parsley. Cut each into 4 or 8 slices each, and serve warm or at room temperature.

I salt my food until the flavors sing. I salt stews, salads, pasta water until no one could accuse me of leaving a grain of my coarse kosher salt unaccounted for. Serving under-salted food is my greatest cooking anxiety.  I want to be able to taste what I’m chewing, to feel satisfied when I’m done, to know I’ve just eaten a meal.

But how much salt is too much?

For a long time, I figured that because I don’t eat much processed food (except for that twice weekly bag of potato chips…you can’t eat just one), I was in the clear with sodium consumption. But recently, I noticed my sprinkles of salt turning into larger and larger pinches. My cookies were renowned for being salty sweet. And I wondered if I was upping my dose to impress increasingly picky tastebuds. If so, I figured I should probably wind it back down.

I always use kosher salt–I like the coarseness when I take a pinch–but I know some people subvert all the sodium intake by using sea salt, where the brininess stands in for some of the saltiness. I’m curious what kind of salt you tend to use.

What’s your take–are you more Maldon than Morton? Or does regular table salt suit you fine? And, do you worry more about over-salting or under-salting?

P.S. The vegetable that craves salt more than I do.