We spent a long weekend in Austin watching friends get married and hanging out with my college roommate, Kay. She picked us up from the airport and we drove by Franklin Barbecue around 11:30 a.m. only to find a line down the block. People waited with beers in hand. On a Thursday morning.

Torchy’s Tacos is where we ended up for lunch instead. It did not feel like a second place choice. At all. They introduced me to my new favorite thing via this month’s Kingpin Taco. It had pork and onions, but best of all, there were maduros in my taco! We’ll have to try this at home.

My dear friend Kay has been living in Austin for at least a couple years now, and she knew all the great places to take us. Kung Fu Saloon was on our list for the vodka pickle shots, which turned out to be surprisingly and inexplicably good. You take a shot of Tito’s vodka followed by a pickle juice chaser. After a game of skee-ball, we downed a second round.

Kay, Danny, and I had a seriously fun Friday night. The evening started at Adelbert’s Brewery with Belgian-style brews. Breweries in Austin, I’m told, can’t technically sell you the beer at a brewery so they sell you a glass (usually $10) that you fill with an allotted number of different pours. The tastings are very generous. And during a brewery tour, the owner/brewer gave us countless samples of still-fermenting brews. Fun!

Next we pulled up at Péché for prohibition-style cocktails. We’d been telling Danny about this place since I visited Kay last year. There was a Manhattan Henge for me, a gimlet for Danny, and an off-menu jalapeño cocktail for Kay. A round of fried oysters and an order of Templeton rye, too.

Brunch at Snack Bar Austin. Two flasks of mimosas all around. I ordered the tamago yoko, featuring an okonomiyaki hashcake. Delicious.

Two stops at Thunderbird for iced coffee and cappuccino.

On Thursday, the bachelorette party led us to a food truck serving Detroit-style pizza (who knew?) close to our next stop, Uncorked. It was lovely to meet everyone and toast to the bride before the big day.

On Saturday, Kay also took us to another brewery, Hops & Grain, to hang out before we had to get ready for the wedding. Travis and Maggie got married at the beautiful Inn at Wild Rose Hall. She designed the logo for this blog, and it was wonderful to finally meet them.

The groom and his friends brewed beers for the wedding (lavender summer saison! ginger pale ale!) and we had tacos for dinner from the Peached Tortilla food truck. Later there were jalapeño-peach margaritas and bottles of champagne being passed around.

We woke up late the next morning and made our way to 1886 Cafe & Bakery for brunch at one of the oldest hotels in Texas, The Driskill. I ordered an awesome baked huevos rancheros and we learned about all of the hotel’s ghost stories from our waiter.

One last meal and then we were off. Til next time, Austin! Looking forward to the next visit to this city.

It was a sunny, beautiful Saturday about a month ago as my friend Jessica and I set up for Women’s Brew Day. Tents were already pitched outside of Southern Brewing in Seminole Heights and we soon made friends. It was a packed event.

She’s the experienced homebrewer (check out her beer blog!) and I was her assistant. I helped her follow the recipe for a Belgian tripel, and we grabbed a couple beers to cool off as we ate a working lunch of Cuban sandwiches. The whole experience was a lot of fun, and it was impressive to see how much work goes into a batch of beer.

Our big pot of brew bubbled away, and towards the end we plunged an immersion wort chiller into the pot. The chiller is a big coil of copper that cools down the brew quickly. We sampled the wort (the brew before the yeast ferments the sugar). We drank more beers. We waited for a few weeks as Jessica and her husband, Derek, monitored the brew’s fermentation at home and later bottled it.

Then they called us over to taste it!

The color is a rich honey or amber, depending on the light, and the aroma is slightly floral. Flavors of banana and raisin shine through. The alcohol content is high, but it is so refreshing and tastes lighter than you’d think, just like it should be with a tripel. It’s beer we made, and I love knowing that. It’s delicious. We threw some names around and settled on Queen Bee Belgian Tripel. Dibs, okay?

Our wine bottles have been gathering dust as beer is definitely our drink of chose these days. I don’t really see that changing as summer is pretty much here. So, prost! Here’s hoping I get to help out with another home brew.

Green, white, and purple. All of them stood there, wrapped in bunches and looking perky now that they’re in season. But which asparagus to choose? Green is the usual, and I’d just read about the virtues of white asparagus; but I guess I’m one of those Americans who doesn’t know what to do with white asparagus, especially when I see it in jars. At least for now. I snagged the purple ones.

Purple asparagus is supposed to be a bit sweeter and less fibrous than the green ones. I considered a raw salad but settled on a barely-cooked side of asparagus. I wanted to preserve as much of that sweetness and color as possible since those lovely shades of purple turn green when cooked.

I gave the spears just one hot minute on each side before sprinkling with salt again and squeezing a lemon over them. They turned out green and purple and lightly charred in spots. It was just enough to take off the raw flavor and ensure they maintain their crispy bite.

David Tanis would approve. Next time, I’ll give them a whirl in the wok.

purple asparagus, barely cooked

Just a quick minute or two on a hot grill pan and you’re done. I want its flavor and color to shine through as much as possible.

purple asparagus
olive oil
salt
black pepper
a lemon

Heat grill pan or skillet to medium-high heat.

Trim any woody ends off the asparagus. Coat asparagus in about 1 tablespoon olive oil. Season with salt and pepper.

Working in batches, place four or five asparagus spears on a hot pan. Cook until lightly charred, about 1 minute, on both sides of the spears.

Season cooked asparagus with a bit more salt, and squeeze half a lemon over them. Serve immediately.

Sunday called for a quick, light lunch. The breeze outside reminded me that it is spring and not yet summer, and so these pancakes with peas and spring onions (the onion of many aliases) sounded perfect.

These savory little pancakes are tender, cheesy, and the sweet peas burst as you bite into them.

I swapped in whole milk ricotta for low-fat cottage cheese. Wouldn’t you? The batter whips up to a smooth and luxurious consistency that looks like pudding. It’s pretty. There’s quite a bit of cheese considering the small amount of flour, which makes for a very tender pancake.

I always have frozen peas in the freezer, and from there this lunch came together quickly. The spring onions aka scallions add a great savory note to counter the slight sweetness of the peas.

We skipped the melted butter drizzle and crumbled more ricotta ovre the pancakes, but I don’t think you can go wrong either way. I can’t wait to have these again. Next time I’ll serve them with a side salad of arugula or kale. Danny thinks they’d be great on the side of pork or lamb.

spring onion and pea pancakes

A perfect little savory pancake for a light lunch. Great with a side salad of arugula or kale.

1 cup shelled fresh peas (from about 1 pound pods) or frozen peas, thawed

1 teaspoon kosher salt

3 large eggs

1 cup ricotta

1/4 cup all-purpose flour

2 tablespoons vegetable oil, plus more for greasing the skillet

4 spring onions/scallions, thinly sliced, plus more for serving

1/4 cup (1/2 stick) salted butter, melted (optional)

If using fresh peas, cook in a small saucepan of boiling salted water until tender, about 3 minutes. Frozen peas only need to be drained.

Purée eggs, ricotta, flour, 2 tablespoons oil, and 1 teaspoon salt in a food processor or blender until smooth. Transfer batter to a medium bowl and stir in peas and scallions. If the batter is too thick to pour, stir in water a tablespoon at a time to thin it out to the right consistency.

Heat a lightly oiled large nonstick skillet over medium heat. Add 1/4-cupfuls of batter to skillet, two or three at a time. They should spread out to about 4-inch pancakes, and you can use a spoon to spread it out if needed. Cook pancakes until bubbles form on top, about 3 minutes. Flip and cook until pancakes are browned on the bottom and the pancake is cooked through, about 2 minutes.

Serve pancakes drizzled with butter and garnished generously with scallions. You might want some more ricotta on the side, too.

Fennel, you’ve grown on me. The girl who avoided anything anise-flavored and  tasted her way through several chocolates in Vienna before realizing with great disappointment that, yes, they’re nearly all filled with marzipan; it reminds me of anise. I was 15 then. Now I keep a jar of fennel seeds on the top shelf of my spices and I keep buying, occasionally, these bulbs with long fans of electric green fronds.

Deborah Madison tells me fennel is in the carrot family, which I probably could not have guessed. She tells me its nicknames, which include bulb fennel, Florence fennel, and finocchio (!) Formally, it’s foeniculum vulgare var. azoricum.

Fennel, apparently, is one of the more efficient vegetables, which makes total sense if you think about it. You can eat the bulb, the stalks, and the feathery fronds that remind me of dill but whose taste I much prefer.

Still, who could’ve guess that the hollow stalks of fennel, the smaller ones, can be used as straws. I don’t know why I would know that or why you would know that (did you??) but I’m glad to learn this trivia from someone who much more intimately understands and knows her vegetables. I guess that’s why I bought this book, though the gorgeous cover was also hard to ignore.

The subtitle for this book is ‘cooking and gardening with twelve families from the edible plant kingdom, with over 300 deliciously simple recipes.’ And so, I hope to better understand the relationship between vegetables in the same family and how they complement each other in a meal. There is plenty to read and to learn about, but this recipe for Braised Fennel Wedges with Saffron and Tomato immediately grabbed my attention and held it.

For anyone keeping track at home, this is our first recipe on the blog with saffron! The recipe is straightforward. I made just some slight changes by using fresh thyme and a bit more garlic. The braise coaxes out the fennel’s sweetness, making it mellow, tender, and golden.

I thought the onions would fry too quickly, but I stirred and stirred, and everything did actually start to steam as the saffron stained the onions a deep yellow. I realized I really needed a wider pan to brown or char the wedges, so I’d likely use the biggest thing we have next time, the Dutch oven.

If you also find yourself with too little cooking space, reserve some of the onions to make way for the fennel wedges in the pan. You could also brown some of the wedges separately in another pan. You could use more onion if you felt like it, and I would next time, especially now that I’m using a mandoline to quickly and thinly slice them. This allows less time for crying; the onions get me every damn time.

Anyway, after you give the wedges some color, try to keep them above water as they simmer in the sauce to show off the char you worked for.

Madison mentions fennel is a natural with seafood, and this dish was absolutely wonderful with pan-seared scallops. They seemed to enhance each other, the fennel bringing out the sweetness in the wild sea scallops. This dish has already earned its place on dinner rotation around here, or lunch, which we had around 6 p.m. this Saturday (man, I love the weekend).

There are other recipes bookmarked, for sure, including a really pretty carrot cake with ricotta cream. I may hang out with the carrot family for a while. I’ll definitely be browsing through this book for some time, as it now lives on my coffee table, and in some ways it feels a bit like a textbook; a girl who graduated college three years ago this month can appreciate that.

braised fennel wedges with saffron and tomato

Deborah Madison mentions fennel is a natural pairing with seafood, and she is so right. This was perfect with pan-seared scallops; the fennel is tender and mellow, and it really enhances the sweetness of wild sea scallops. Serve with a hunk of bread, rice, or another hearty grain like farro.

2 large fennel bulbs
2 to 3 tablespoons olive oil
1 onion, thinly sliced
2 teaspoons fennel seeds
a generous pinch of saffron threads
1 1/2 teaspoons fresh thyme (or 1/2 teaspoon dried)
2 garlic cloves, crushed
3 tablespoons tomato paste
1 1/2 cups vegetable or chicken stock (or water)
sea salt
1 tablespoon butter
black pepper
minced fennel greens or parsley
pan-seared scallops (optional, but it rounds this out for a great meal)

Trim off the stalks and greens from the fennel bulbs. Halve each bulb lengthwise. Cut the halves into wedges about 1 1/2 inches at the widest part, which will give you roughly three wedges per half.

Heat the olive oil in a wide saute pan over medium-high heat. Add the onion and fennel seeds, then the saffron and thyme. Stir all the ingredients together and cook until the onions begin to steam and catch color released from the saffron, up to 5 minutes or so. Add the fennel wedges and cook until golden (though a bit of a char is best), turning the wedges and the onions occasionally. If your skillet isn’t large enough, reserve some of the onions to make way for the fennel; you can also heat up another skillet to char some of the fennel wedges.

When the fennel wedges have earned some nice color, stir in the garlic and tomato paste. Then add the stock and 1 teaspoon salt. Scrape the bottom of the pan to incorporate everything, cover, and simmer until the fennel is tender, about 15 minutes. Stir the butter in with 3 or 5 minutes to go. Or if you end up with too much liquid, pour it into a small skillet and when ready to serve, add the butter to the juices, bring to a boil, and then simmer until rich and syrupy. Pour the sauce over the fennel. Taste and season with pepper and more salt if needed. Serve warm, garnished with fennel greens (and a side of pan-seared scallops).

Serves 3 to 4 as a side. Adapted slightly from Vegetable Literacy by Deborah Madison.

The word ‘fat’ can be scary to people. ‘Duck fat’ may not be much better. But let’s try and repress those I can’t believe it’s not butter! years (because now I totally believe) and forget low-fat wraps, low-fat cheese, and low-fat anything ever.

Now. I’m sure you’ve all heard of duck breasts. Duck confit. Duck fat fries. Well, here’s another way to use it: in whiskey. How about duck fat infused spirits for this weekend’s cocktail hour? Yes.

Danny and I are jetting off to Austin soon for a wedding, and it’s also the adopted city of my dear college roommate and bestie, Kay. We booked the flight a while ago and have been counting down the days ever since.

On my last visit, we loved Péché and their wonderful cocktails, but now Kay told us about a new bar with a similar feel to it (and better prices). On the menu: a Sazerac made with duck fat, which is about all you have to say to convince Danny. He couldn’t wait. Within minutes, he had tracked down a duck fat Sazerac recipe (from another Austin bar, if you can believe it). Way before the trip, we decided to try mixing a few ourselves at home.

The duck fat had been in our fridge, in waiting, for a promise of duck confit or something else we’d experiment with but I’m glad its fate was this cocktail. The call for Peychaud’s bitters is specific as this is the one used to make the original cocktail, the Sazerac of New Orleans. It’s definitely different from our standby, angostura, and an essential to add to our bar anyway. We used the rye whiskey we had around (Bulleit) but know that Sazeracs are also made with cognac.

Infusing your own rye with duck fat is easy. (Ha!) I promise, it is. You might want to mix the fat in a bit of the rye before mixing it with all of the rye to make it easier. Shake it and it looks like a lava lamp.

So why infuse rye with duck fat? It makes for an incredibly smooth drink. It’s not at all greasy or fatty; this ‘fat-washing’ process just enriches the rye and makes a harmonious, smooth cocktail. We mixed up the Duck Fat Sazeracs for friends, and it’s one we’ll continue to make around here. We used the infused rye to make Manahattans later, too, and those were great as well. The ice is totally optional and not called for, but it’s been warm here and we don’t always have a chilled glass at the ready.

Did I mention you also get to play with fire for this? Strike a match and hold it up as you squeeze a lemon peel. The essential oils will release and spark. Just another reason we love this cocktail. I think you will, too.

duck fat sazeracs

Infusing rye with duck fat makes for an incredibly smooth cocktail, as at least a couple bars in Austin have discovered. This recipe comes from Haddingtons. Can’t book a flight to Austin right now? Serve this Sazerac at home until then.

for the duck fat-infused rye:

750 ml rye
1 1/2 ounces rendered duck fat

To infuse the rye whiskey, combine the rye and duck fat in a glass container. Combine the duck fat in a little bit of the rye before adding the rest to mix more easily. Shake it up and it will look like a lava lamp. Let infuse at room temperature for 12 hours, and then freeze overnight. In the morning, strain the rye using a cheesecloth into a clean glass container (we used the same one). Store in a glass container (we recycled a whiskey bottle); we store it in the freezer and bring it out for sazeracs or manhattans.

for the sazerac:

ice
2 ounces duck fat-infused rye
2 dashes Peychaud’s bitters
1 teaspoon simple syrup
absinthe
lemon twist
fire

Fill a shaker or tall mixing glass with ice. Pour in duck fat-infused rye, bitters, and simple syrup. Stir until chilled, about 15 seconds.

Rinse a chilled glass with the absinthe and shake off the excess. Strain the rye mixture into the glass.

Squeeze the lemon peel to release its essential oils as you light it with a match over the mouth of the glass. You’ll see a small spark as the fire catches the oils. Drop the lemon peel into the glass and serve straight up (or with a big chunk of ice if you want a bit more chill).

Makes one drink. Recipe from Haddingtons in Austin via Serious Eats.

I have to be careful what I email Danny. Sometimes I bookmark recipes I find online or I star them on Google Reader (not for much longer), but I email a lot of recipes to him. The thing is I have to be prepared to jump right on what I send him because he usually wants to make it right now. This week. As soon as possible. Tonight.

I managed to talk him off the ledge of slow-roasting a four-hour lamb shoulder on a weeknight, and we saved it for Saturday. Around 4 p.m., we paused Goldfinger on Netflix, and prepped the lamb. The biggest consideration with a recipe like this is timing, but it’s otherwise fairly simple. Rub salt, pepper, and herbes de provence all over the lamb. Place the lamb in a Dutch oven, break up a head of garlic and scatter the whole, unpeeled cloves around the meat. Roast in a low oven, turning the lamb every hour or so. By the end, the meat is falling apart and perfectly cooked. We used a 5-pound piece of lamb shoulder, but the cooking time was about the same.

The beans soak quickly and then simmer on the stovetop. This recipe doesn’t even ask you to slice the onion. Plop it in with the beans, skin and all.

The olive tapenade is the most labor intensive part of this meal. This is when you finally bring out your knife. The ingredient list is long, but after some chopping, all you have to do is blitz it all in a food processor. That is, after pitting two cups of olives. But I find that it’s easiest to set your boyfriend up with that task, and he’ll come up with a good system. Cut a quick slit at the end of the olive; then press down on the olive with the side of a knife, like you would a clove of garlic to remove its skin. The pit practically pops out.

This is just the kind of thing to make for friends coming over. The beans and tapenade can be made ahead, and the lamb just slow roasts until everybody is here and hungry.

Pork shoulder is what you’re more likely to find at our home, but I’m grateful for this push to try lamb shoulder. It’s spring, and lamb seems right for the season, but it was wonderful. A bit expensive upfront, but not really when you compare it to going out and you break this meal down by servings. Adam says four, but with a slightly bigger piece of meat this will be at least six. And there’s plenty of tapenade to go around.

slow-roasted lamb shoulder with white beans and olive tapenade

This made for a spectacular Saturday night dinner, and the Monday lunch leftovers were just as good. The beans and tapenade can be made ahead, and then it’s just the lamb, which makes this a great candidate for a dinner party. Slow roasting the lamb could not be easier. Do not skip the Herbes de Provence. This blend of herbs adds flavor and an incredible aroma throughout your house. You can even find a Badia jar of the stuff at Publix. 

for the lamb and beans:

3- to 5-pound lamb shoulder, preferably bone-in
olive oil
kosher salt
black pepper
2 to 3 tablespoons Herbes de Provence
a head of garlic, broken into cloves
1/2 cup dry white wine
1 bag dried white beans (about 14 ounces)
1 small or medium yellow onion

Heat the oven to 300°F.

Place the lamb shoulder in a Dutch oven and rub it all over with olive oil. Season generously with salt, pepper, and Herbes de Provence. Toss the unpeeled garlic cloves around the lamb and pour in the white wine. Cover and roast for four hours, flipping the lamb every hour. It will be incredibly tender when it’s done and the lamb will give to the pull of a fork. To be sure, an internal temperature of 150°F for the lamb is good. Scoop up the juices and browned bits in the bottom of the pan and pour into a bowl.

Meanwhile, cook the beans. If you forgot to soak overnight, no worries! Place the beans in a large pot with enough water to cover the beans. Bring to a boil, cover the pot with its lid, turn off the heat and let the beans hang out for 1 hour. Drain the soaked beans and return to the pot with fresh water, enough to cover the beans by two inches. Plop the whole onion in with the beans and season with a generous pinch of salt. You could add a bay leaf if you’ve got one around. Simmer until beans are soft and creamy but still hold their shape, 60 to 90 minutes. Taste and season with more salt if necessary. Drain the beans but reserve their liquid. Always better to heat the beans with some of their own liquid.

Carve the lamb and place next to a serving of beans. Pour some of the lamb pan juices over the lamb and beans; those browned bits are as intensely flavored as the tapenade. Sprinkle with parsley and serve with tapenade on the side.

for the tapenade:

To easily pit an olive, cut a quick slit at the end of it; then press down on the olive with the side of a knife, like you would a clove of garlic to remove its skin. The pit practically pops out.

2 cups oil-cured black olives, pitted
2 teaspoons capers, rinsed well if packed in salt
2 small garlic cloves, minced
zest and juice of 1 lemon
1 teaspoon (chopped) thyme
2 anchovy fillets, rinsed well if packed in salt
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil, though I’d do a little less next time
a pinch of cayenne pepper
fresh parsley, chopped

Pulse the olives, capers, garlic, lemon zest and juice, thyme, anchovies, olive oil, and cayenne in a blender or food processor until combined. Transfer tapenade to a bowl. Serve with lamb and beans. Spread leftover tapenade on sandwiches.

Serves 4 to 6. Adapted slightly from The Amateur Gourmet, (who was inspired by by Clotilde Dusoulier and David Tanis).

A light lace of spiderwebs hugged the rail, and yet, my balcony welcomed me back yesterday. I took a seat with a couple of cookbooks and a beer for company. It was breezy, sunny, and just what I wanted at the end of the day.

I’ve seen all kinds of birds in this neighborhood — woodpeckers, blue jays, sandhill cranes, hawks, crows, vultures — and one or the other were chirping and flying around. Downstairs, my neighbor sat on her patio showing off her old Brooklyn accent while catching up with a friend. Strange wisps of creatures (are these bugs?) congregated by the sliding door,

It’s been too long since we sat out here. One of the chairs is broken, and I keep forgetting to remember to water the plants. The mint is crying out.

Yesterday we saw our pet alligator is still out and free in the canal behind our place; those gator trappers that showed up last weekend didn’t catch her. Phew.

The grill is tucked in a corner, and it’s probably a good weekend for pinchos. Around 7:30 p.m., when the sun is real low, goosebumps covered my legs. I took my books and empty glass inside.

But I plan on coming back this weekend, this time with mugs, our new beloved French press, and Danny. We used to spend weekend breakfasts on the balcony, and it’s about time to bring that back.

This French press coffee deserves it. It’s richer than our Tuesday morning coffee, almost inky, and smooth. I’ll need to pick up some coarse ground coffee in a light or medium roast, and then all we need is some biscotti or madeleines. Am I alone in this enthusiasm for the French press? If you haven’t, I think you should try it. It’s a wonderful way to start the day.

Meet our pancake of the moment, making Saturdays better for a couple weeks now. They look a little different from what we’re used to. Buckwheat flour stains the edges purple and blue around a very browned pancake. They bubble up beautifully in the center as they cook, and they keep well in the fridge for a couple days. I just had a leftover one for lunch.

Besides the lovely color, buckwheat adds an earthiness to the pancakes. They take very well to softened butter and maple syrup. Still, there’s a health factor to consider; more protein and fiber than all-purpose flour! We used equal parts of each flour, but you could work your way up to 100% buckwheat.

Our supporting cast includes brown butter and a whole vanilla bean. We’re melting butter anyway, so why not let it crackle and foam until it’s brown? It adds a subtle nutty flavor that won’t take away from the buckwheat. Vanilla complements the flavors as well, and as you work your way into a pancake stack, the specks of vanilla float into the swirls of maple syrup and butter.

It’s pretty and delicious, and this breakfast will keep you satisfied even through a midday tennis practice with your boyfriend. It probably energized me to last as long as I did, which was only a stop-and-go hour. There were several water breaks. There were several please-let-me-catch-my-breath breaks. That’s what happens, I guess, when I don’t join Danny on a tennis court for several months.

But there will be more tennis! As soon as my sprained toe gets back to normal. Until then, there will certainly be more buckwheat pancakes.

buckwheat pancakes

Buckwheat is higher in protein and fiber, but it also adds a significant flavor boost to this weekend breakfast staple. The brown butter and vanilla add depth, but the buckwheat remains the pronounced flavor. We liked using an equal split between buckwheat and all-purpose, but you could try a 100% buckwheat pancake, too.

vegetable oil, for coating the pan
3/4 cup (100 grams) buckwheat flour
3/4 cup (100 grams) all-purpose flour
3 tablespoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 vanilla bean
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 egg
1 to 2 cups buttermilk
maple syrup, for serving
butter, for serving

Heat a cast iron skillet over medium heat. It should be ready to go as soon as the batter is mixed. In another small pan, melt the butter over medium heat. To brown the butter, let it cook until it stops bubbling and crackling. Pull it off the heat.

Mix the flours, sugar, salt, and baking soda. Split the vanilla bean with a knife and use the dull side to scrape out the beans; mix the vanilla beans in with the dry ingredients. Stir in the melted butter, scooping up all the brown bits in the pan. In a cup of buttermilk, beat the egg with a fork. Add the buttermilk and egg mixture to the dry ingredients. Slowly stir in as much as you need of the remaining cup of buttermilk until you reach the right consistency, slightly runny but not too thick or thin. Mix everything until combined, but make sure not to overmix. A few lumps are okay.

Coat the skillet with a small amount of vegetable oil, using a paper towel to coat. Not too much. Ladle about 1/4 cup of batter onto the skillet for a 4-inch pancake. Reduce the heat to medium low. Cook the pancake until you start to see a few bubbles on the surface, 2 to 3 minutes. The pancakes will spread out a bit. Flip the pancake and cook the other side until browned, 1 to 2 minutes.

Keep pancakes warm on a baking sheet in a 200°F oven. Spread more oil in the skillet in between batches of pancakes. Serve pancakes with maple syrup and butter.

Serves 2 to 3. Adapted from Simply Recipes.

Perhaps my favorite thing about this gianduja— besides it being a rustic, homemade Nutella — is discovering it hardens when drizzled over ice cream, just like Magic Shell. It is absolutely perfect over a few scoops of good vanilla ice cream.

I’m a sucker for the chocolate-hazelnut combination and it took hardly any time to make this at home. Toast hazelnuts. Process everything together.

Oh yeah! We bought a Cuisinart food processor. We’re in business now.

This chocolate-hazelnut spread is different from that famous one though. The difference is texture. Nutella is smooth like Jif peanut butter, but this gianduja is more like natural peanut butter. It’s a bit more coarse, a characteristic given partly by the use of Demerara sugar.

It’s sweet and nutty. We used half bittersweet chocolate and half semisweet chocolate, though the recipe called for milk chocolate. Next time I’ll try all dark. Anyway, I hope you try out homemade Nutella soon. This week could use a pick-me-up.

gianduja

This tastes like Nutella but is different in texture. Think of it as the difference between the smooth peanut butter you grew up on and the now-popular natural peanut butter. The Demerara sugar adds texture and crunch, but I’m sure regular sugar would work, too.

1 cup (5 ounces) hazelnuts
8 ounces good-quality chocolate, we used half bittersweet and half semisweet
1/4 cup Demerara sugar
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 cup grapeseed oil

Heat oven to 350°F.

Spread hazelnuts on a small baking sheet and toast until fragrant and golden, 10 to 12 minutes. Remove the skins from the hazelnuts by rubbing them, though it’s not a huge deal if you don’t get them all.

While the nuts are still warm, combine with chocolate, sugar, and salt in the bowl of a food processor. Purée until smooth, slowly adding oil.

Transfer chocolate-nut mixture to an airtight jar. Let stand at room temperature until thickened, about two days, though we spooned it over ice cream on day one. The spread will keep at room temperature for up to one month or for up to 3 months in the fridge. Microwave for 5 seconds to loosen up before serving.

Makes 1 1/2 cups. Recipe from La Cucina Italiana.