Lila, my youngest sister, loves burgers, chocolate, and ice cream. She’s turning 9 this August.

But most of all, that girl loves cheese. One night, when she was younger, I walked into the kitchen at my parents’ house to find her seated at the counter. In front of her, a plate piled high with parmesan cheese. She’d cleaned us out.

Dinner, she called it.

That’s what kids must picture dinner being like when you’re older and in your own place. Ice cream for breakfast. Chips for dinner. Sprinkles all around. And sometimes it is, and it is great to sit in your pajamas and have a little bit of ice cream around 10 a.m. But of course, this can’t and won’t go on forever.

Your belly grumbles for real food. A real dinner.

Some nights Danny works late to cover meetings for the paper, and I find myself making dinner for one. I sit on the couch browsing this and catching up on that, and before I know it I only had avocado toast or a big bowl of kale for dinner. Suddenly it’s 9 p.m. and all I’ve had is a skimpy dinner.

It had to change. I came across this recipe for spaghetti with sardines, lemon, and anchovy breadcrumbs. Turns out I had everything I needed, which is part of this dinner’s appeal. I’ve been stashing these cute tins of sardines in the cupboards ever since we picked up fresh Portuguese sardines on a whim and liked them very much. It’s also great knowing they’re sustainable and healthy.

Anyway. The pasta doesn’t take very long. The sweet smell of lemon and garlic as you chop and prep is enough to convince you this was a waaaay better move than heating up soup. I tend to cop out on dinner when it’s just for me, and I don’t think I’m the only one. Let’s try and quit that, okay? Treat yourself.

The original recipe has you chop a lot of the ingredients while the pasta boils, but I like to have everything ready at the start and then use the downtime to sip on wine. A clean and crisp sauvignon blanc is really nice with this pasta.

Everything starts with the breadcrumbs. You’re supposed to use fresh white breadcrumbs, but the only bread I had was pita and this was no time for a run to the grocery store. I used panko crumbs, and that worked out just fine. The crumbs sizzle in the pan, soaking up a lot of olive oil just in the first minute. It looks more like a paste that won’t crisp up, but the color is more important here. Mine were a bit darker than fresh breadcrumbs would’ve been, but you want to let them brown for a bit. Set them on paper towels and as they rest they’ll crisp up. They’re salty and they look and sound like shaved ice.

Be generous with the breadrumbs on the pasta. As you twirl a fork in the spaghetti, it’s a mini avalanche and the breadcrumbs coat every strand. The crunch is unbeatable and makes me wonder why all pasta isn’t served with salty, crsipy accents. Do not skip them.

This was a very satisfying dinner. Good enough to share the leftovers with Danny and good enough to make again. I’ve used arugula and baby kale, but you can use whatever small, slightly bitter greens you have around. If you’re feeling inspired, I bet parsley would be great here. Maybe some shallots, too.

I didn’t really miss cheese in this pasta, but you could definitely grate a bit of parmesan over the pasta. Be careful not to add too much as this is already salty with the anchovy crumbs and sardines crumbled into the dish. I may add some next time and raise my fork to Lila, who would not eat this now but could maybe be convinced to clean a plate of this spaghetti when she grows up.

spaghetti with sardines, lemon, and anchovy breadcrumbs

This is a great dinner at the end of the week when the fridge may be a little low but you can depend on your pantry. It’s no sacrifice. It is salty, delicious, and enhanced with a jolt of green from arugula, kale, or whichever green you have around. The leftovers for lunch the next day are great, too.

10 anchovy fillets in oil, drained
4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more
6 tablespoons fresh white breadcrumbs (I used panko and that worked out fine)
about 14 ounces spaghetti
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 small hot chili, chopped and seeds removed, or a good pinch of red chili flakes
7 ounces or 200 grams sardines in olive oil
1 lemon, zested and juiced
3 ounces arugula or baby kale (or more if you want this to be a little heavier on the greens)
salt

Place the anchovies in a skillet with 4 tablespoons olive oil and cook over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally, until the anchovies fall apart and melt into the oil, about 7 minutes. Stir in the breadcrumbs and turn up the heat to medium. Keep stirring the breadcrumbs frequently until they fry up to a golden brown color, no more than 10 minutes. Strain the breadcrumbs and place them on a plate lined with paper towels. This is when they’ll really crisp up.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the spaghetti and cook until al dente or as tender as you like it, 10 to 12 minutes.

Meanwhile, drain the sardines, making sure to reserve the oil. Use a fork to break the sardines into small pieces. Clean and dry the skillet used for the breadcrumbs. Add 1 tablespoon olive oil to the skillet and cook the garlic gently over medium heat. Stir in the chili pepper or flakes and the sardines.

Drain the spaghetti when it’s done and reserve a bit of the pasta water. Pour the drained pasta into your large skillet with the sardines. Toss the pasta to coat and add in the arugula and the zest of 1 lemon and half its juice. Add a generous splash of the reserved pasta water and toss the pasta again until everything is just about evenly distributed. Taste for seasoning and add some of the oil from the sardines if pasta could use a bit more oil and the rest of the lemon juice if it needs a bit more acidity. Garnish generously with anchovy breadcrumbs on top and serve immediately.

Serves 4 to 6. Adapted from Rachel Eats, who adapted it from Rowley Leigh in the Crisis cookbook

On his dad’s side, Danny’s ancestors are from Italy. Sicily, I’m told, and I believe his father still has relatives living there. That’s where the name Valentine comes from of course. Maybe this is where his sudden obsession with getting a pasta maker came from.

The night the Oscars were playing, he decided to make spinach ravioli stuffed with ricotta. Rolled by hand, what were supposed to be little pillows were tough and disappointing for the amount of work required.

A proper pasta machine was needed. That very week he sought one out. First he struck out driving to a Williams-Sonoma store that no longer existed or just couldn’t be found. A couple nights later he found one and came home with a red Imperia pasta maker, a ravioli attachment, and a few beautiful pasta tools. One, a stamp to cut out large medallions of pasta; another to cut clean lines into long sheets of pasta.

Soon the little machine was dusted in flour and so were we.

He didn’t just want to start with linguini or spaghetti. We went right back to that spinach ravioli recipe. He fed the dough into it, and I cranked it through until the dough thinned out more each time. The dough became sheets that were supple and pliable.

Using the proper attachment, you feed two sheets of pasta on either side and scoop some filling into the middle. Turn the handle and watch the pasta and ricotta go down until they come out the other side as a sheet of perfectly pressed ravioli. We made noodles with the leftover dough.

This ravioli was worlds away from the first ravioli. Those first ones were like hockey pucks. These were delicate and eaten with just a fork.

I believed in the pasta maker.

Next we went for a more involved recipe. The April issue of Food & Wine focused on Italy and boasted Mario Batali as its guest editor. A beet gnocchi with walnut-sage butter called our name, but a toasted fazzoletti with chanterelles and hazelnuts shouted it.

You toast part of the flour to give a nutty, sweeter taste to the pasta, which is made up of big, thin squares that fold over themselves like handkerchiefs. Mushrooms are browned and reduced until they soak up vinegar and stock.

We’ve made this toasted fazzoletti three times now, including once for friends over for dinner. Making pasta like this is certainly what you’d call a labor of love. It’s for a Saturday when you don’t really have plans. You need a lot of counter space or a cleared dining table to set out your pasta sheets and then your pasta squares.

Make the pasta ahead and freeze it if you’d like to split up the tasks. After the pasta is rolled, cut out, and rested, then you just have to cook the mushrooms and boil the pasta for about 3 minutes. Then toss the pasta in the skillet with the mushrooms and open a bottle of wine. Something fruit-forward yet earthy, according to the magazine. Last time, I paired the pasta with a Rhone blend of Syrah, Grenache, and Mourvèdre. I love Rhone wines.

Use any mushrooms you like. Chanterelles are great, but they can be expensive and hard to find. We’ve used a combination of crimini and other shrooms a couple times, and most recently all white button mushrooms. Each way was delicious.

We’re still getting to know this little machine, but we’ve had some success. I can’t wait to see what else we can do with it.

toasted fazzoletti with chanterelles and hazelnuts

This is a nutty and earth pasta dish with plenty of flavor built up from the mushrooms. Chanterelles are called for, but you can use any combination you’d like. Even common white button mushrooms will brown into something delicious.

1/2 cup hazelnuts
6 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 pound chanterelle or other mushrooms, thickly sliced
salt
black pepper
1 large shallot, minced
1 tablespoon chopped thyme
pinch of crushed red pepper
2 tablespoons sherry vinegar
1 cup chicken stock
3/4 pound fresh toasted fazzoletti
1/4 cup snipped chives

Heat the oven to 375°F. Spread the hazelnuts on a baking sheet and toast until the skins split and the nuts are fragrant, 10 to 12 minutes. Transfer the nuts to a kitchen towel and rub off the skins. Coarsely chop the nuts.

Meanwhile, cook 4 tablespoons butter over moderate heat in a large, deep skillet until lightly browned, 3 minutes. Stir in the mushrooms and season with salt and black pepper; cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally until all of the liquid evaporates and the mushrooms are golden, about 8 minutes. Add the shallot, thyme, and crushed red pepper; cook over medium-high heat for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the vinegar and cook until evaporated, stirring and scraping up any browned bits at the bottom of the skillet. Add the stock and simmer until reduced by half, 10 minutes.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil and cook fazzoletti until al dente, about 3 minutes. Drain the pasta and add to the skillet with the mushrooms along with the remaining 2 tablespoons butter. Cook over medium heat, stirring until the pasta is coated with butter, about 2 minutes. Stir in the chives and hazelnuts, reserving some of both to garnish individual servings.

Serves 6. Recipe from Food & Wine.

fresh toasted fazzoletti

This pasta can be made ahead. Spread the uncooked fazzoletti on a baking sheet and freeze; then store in a resealable plastic bag.

3 cups durum wheat flour, plus more for dusting
5 large eggs
1/3 cup milk
1 teaspoon kosher salt

Heat the oven to 375°F. Spread 1 cup of flour on a baking sheet and toast until fragrant and the color of honey, stirring once, 15 to 20 minutes. Let cool.

In a food processor, combine the toasted flour with the remaining 2 cups of flour and pulse to combine. Add the eggs, milk, and salt, and blend until the dough comes together; turn out onto a floured work surface and knead 2 or 3 times to form a soft dough. Wrap the dough in plastic and let stand at room temperature for 2 hours.

Cut the dough into 4 equal pieces. Using a pasta machine on the thickest setting, run 1 piece of dough through the machine, dusting with flour. Fold the dough in thirds and run it through the machine at the same setting. Continue to run the dough on successively thinner settings until reaching the second to last setting. Dust the dough with flour and drape over a floured work surface while repeating the previous steps with the remaining pieces of dough. Cut the thinned-out pasta sheets into 2-inch squares and dust lightly with flour. Let the squares stand at room temperature for 1 hour.

Makes 1 1/2 pounds of pasta. Adapted from Food & Wine.

I came home the other day with a bounty of fruit. Rhubarb, local blueberries, cactus pear, peaches that ended up topping a cake, and fresh apricots. The lovely orange apricots I’m more familiar with and a variety called red velvet; those are a little sweeter.

They were found at an open market on the way home. I’ve passed it every day for a while and finally decided to pull over and see what I could find. There was plenty. Things I didn’t think I could find anymore and others I was surprised to see or didn’t know existed. Immature green plums, 99-cent herbs, and cheese curds. It was a worthy detour.

For the apricots, I wanted something simple. I split them open, removed the pits and filled the centers with sugar and butter. Off to the oven.

They don’t need to roast for too long to soften. You could try longer if you’re looking to brown them, but they were delicious like this. The apricots become concentrated in flavor, a bit tart, and delicate enough to break with a spoon. A weekend breakfast that comes together quickly.

I spooned a few soft, roasted apricots onto my plate with vanilla yogurt, marcona almonds scented with rosemary, and a sprig of thyme. Finish it of with some flaky salt.This was a pretty plate to start the weekend.

simple roasted apricots

This is a starting point. Try adding spices to the apricots or try honey instead of sugar. They’d be great served on top of oatmeal with blueberries.

4 or 5 apricots, halved and pitted
brown sugar
butter
yogurt, nuts, and flaky salt, for serving

Heat oven to 375°F. Arrange apricot halves with the cut side up on a baking sheet. Sprinkle brown sugar in the center of each apricot. Place a small pat of butter in the each center.

Bake until softened, about 15 minutes. Let cool for a minute before serving with yogurt and nuts.

Serves 3.

I made a cake for you and for summer. There were peaches sitting out on the counter that would not be ignored. You could smell them before seeing them.

I’ve wanted to make a cornmeal skillet cake for a while, and this summery number hit the spot. Hello June! It’s a low-maintenance cake that turns out beautifully. It only bakes for about 20 minutes. The crumb is tender, and yet it’s heavy with the perfume of early-summer peaches, herbs, and brown butter.

This is also an upside-down cake. In the moment before the flip, you hold your breath. Peaches could stick and cake could split. I’d never done this with a skillet cake, and though cast iron is heavy and I thought we might break a plate, the cake fell right out of the skillet and plopped perfectly onto a plate. Not that I was too worried for it. At the bottom of the skillet, the peach slices floated in browned butter, almost syrupy and swirled around the cast iron sides.

The original recipe calls for lavender. I didn’t have any, but I wanted something a touch more savory anyway. Lavender seemed a little precious for a cornmeal cake. Our balcony herbs are starting to thrive again (apparently they grow when you water them…) and I decided on thyme. We’ll save the cilantro for a future cocktail. You could probably play around with other herbs as well. Rosemary could be good.

The recipe also called for three peaches, but the two I had turned out to be plenty. Use fine cornmeal if you think you’d prefer the texture. I suspect some people might be partial to something a little softer, more familiar in a cake.

But me, I love this kind of cake. Not too sweet at all. Simple but somewhat unexpected flavors, and yet familiar at the same time. It reminds me of the pineapple upside-down cakes we’d make for my abuelito.

It is a perfect cake for summer. Summer! I’m a July baby. I have to embrace summer for everything that it is, sweltering, humid, rainy Florida afternoons and all. Think about the ice cream and grilled dinners. The slowdown of time. Tomatoes. And the feeling that school’s out, even now. Stick a candle in this and have a slice to summer. I could call it a birthday cake. No frosting or sprinkles needed. It’s even in my favorite color, orange! It’s all I ever wanted (except from grades 6 through 12, when all I wanted was a Carvel cake).

Vanilla ice cream would be totally fine next to a slice of this cornmeal cake. No problem. But it doesn’t need it. The peaches hold their own. Maybe just a little whipped cream if you’d like to dress it up.

This cake is at home on a Sunday afternoon. Today’s leftovers were tempting for breakfast.

It’s gonna be a great summer (and let me know if we’re ready to declare it the Summer of George). Don’t worry about the mosquitoes or frizzy hair. Relish in long days and sunlight well into making-dinner time. Think of beach days and happy hours on porches. Get a tan and your favorite sandals. Let’s make this cake again soon.

peach and cornmeal upside-down cake

You could use fine cornmeal if you’d prefer the texture. Feel free to switch up the thyme for another herb.

11 tablespoons (5 1/2 ounces) unsalted butter, softened
1 cup sugar
2 medium ripe peaches, pitted and sliced into 3/4-inch wedges
1 cup coarse yellow cornmeal or polenta
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
2 teaspoons chopped fresh thyme, plus a few sprigs for garnish
1 1/4 teaspoons coarse salt
3 large eggs
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup heavy cream

Heat oven to 350°F. Melt 3 tablespoons butter over medium heat in a 10-inch cast iron skillet, using a pastry brush to coat the sides with butter as it melts. Sprinkle 1/4 cup sugar evenly across the buttered skillet. Cook until sugar starts to turn golden brown and bubble slightly, about 3 minutes. Arrange peaches in a circle at the edge of the skillet. Fill the center with the rest of the peach slices. Reduce heat to low, and cook until peaches are softened and the juices are brown and bubbling, about 10 minutes. Remove from heat.

Whisk cornmeal, flour, baking powder, thyme, and salt in a medium bowl. In another bowl, use an electric mixer to beat the remaining stick of butter and 3/4 cup of sugar on high speed until pale and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Bring the speed down to medium. Add eggs 1 at a time, beating after each one, and scraping down the sides of the bowl to combine. Stir in vanilla and heavy cream. Reduce speed to low. Mix in the cornmeal mixture, one half at a time.

Drop the batter over the syrupy peaches in the skillet. Use a spatula to carefully spread the batter evenly over the fruit. The batter will be thick, and the browned butter juices of the peaches may come up the sides but it will all turn out well.

Place skillet in the center of the oven and bake until cake is golden brown and a tester inserted in the center comes out clean, 20 to 22 minutes. Transfer skillet to a wire rack and let cool for 10 minutes. Cover the skillet with your serving plate and use both hands to grasp the sides of the skillet and plate. In one quick movement, flip the skillet over so the plate is on the bottom. Give the skillet a couple taps to make sure the peaches come off. Lift off the skillet carefully and rearrange peach slices if necessary. Give it a minute to cool before serving. Garnish each slice with a sprig of thyme.

Serves 8. Adapted from Martha Stewart Living.

By the time I decided to read more about madeleines, I’d already pulled my first batch from the oven and eaten two. That was a good thing. Reading about them in various articles and blog posts can be a little disheartening. Some say these can be difficult to bake and the little hump in the back sometimes won’t puff up… All this and you have to buy a specific (though beautiful) pan? I might have called the whole thing off.

This is a very simple batter and an easygoing cakey cookie. The first batch was successful. After 10 minutes, I peeked in the oven and could see the backsides of the madeleines had puffed up just like they should. After 12 minutes, I took them out of the oven and let them cool a minute or two before moving them to a cooling rack. The madeleines slid right out.

Bon Appetit’s recipe says the madeleines can go as long as 16 minutes, which is probably fine if you want browner cookies. Besides reducing the cooking time, I decided to use the zest of an entire lemon. Be mindful of not overmixing (as with most baking recipes).

These madeleines taste simply of vanilla, lemon, and butter. They are perfect as they are. But once you get this down, you can play around with the variations. Dip the ends in chocolate. Swap in orange zest for lemon zest. Add spices. Either way, they’re welcome on any table. Serve them at breakfast or in the afternoon. Share them at work or bring them to a party. Or keep them to yourself and your coffee.

My new favorite cookies, for sure. And the golden madeleine pan? I’m keeping that pretty one on display.

The only hiccup with making a batch of these happened when I was running a little behind and friends were showing up for brunch. Bluth banner, jorts, and all. The problem was that I was a little distracted and rushing myself, so I forgot to let the melted butter cool properly. The madeleines were a little too greasy going into the pan, and after 10 minutes the edges were browned and surrounded in bubbling foam. I thought they were ruined, but they were okay. Just more dense than usual, missing some of their puffiness.

Lesson learned. Don’t rush. Do things in advance. Sorry, I was distracted. We all were. (See below) Still, the Dutch babies were fantastic made fresh to order (those really puff up!) And we really needed that bacon. Sometimes brunch goes well into overtime, and you’ve gotta have more food than you thought you needed.

madeleines

These classic French cookies are easy to make, and once you get the basic recipe down you can play around with variations. Swap in orange zest for lemon or dip the tops of the cookies in dark chocolate. But really, they’re perfectly good the way they are. Not too sweet and they taste simply of lemon, vanilla, and butter. You’ll want a second cup of coffee.

2 large eggs
2/3 cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract or 1 fresh vanilla bean
grated zest of 1 lemon
pinch of salt
1 cup all-purpose flour
10 tablespoons (1 1/4 sticks) unsalted better, melted and cooled
powdered sugar, optional

Heat oven to 375°F. Generously butter and madeleine pan. Using an electric mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, beat eggs and sugar just until blended. Stir in vanilla (scrape out seeds of bean if using), lemon zest and salt. Add flour and beat just until blended. Gradually add cooled and melted butter in a steady stream, mixing just until blended.

Spoon 1 tablespoon batter into each indentation in pan. Bake until cookies are puffed and brown at the edges, 12 to 15 minutes. Cool for a few minutes and gently remove cookies from pan. Depending on the size of your pan, you may do a second batch; make sure to butter and flour the pan again.

Cool for 5 minutes. Gently remove from pan. Depending on the size of your pan, you may want to repeat these steps with the rest of the batter; butter and flour the pan before each batch.

If you want to, dust cookies lightly with powdered sugar. Serve immediately with coffee or store in an airtight container for up to a day or two. They’re best the same day they’re made.

Makes about 16 cookies. Recipe (adapted just slightly) from Bon Appetit via epicurious.

A few weeks ago we were stopped at a red light when I looked over and saw three of them. Never-nudes. Tobias Funke was right. There must be dozens of them! Seeing these guys (especially that burly one in the middle!) wearing these itty bitty jorts on a sunny Saturday morning made my day. I like to think this was in anticipation of a particular Sunday, this Sunday, when the fourth season of Arrested Development hits Netflix.

It’s the final countdown. You know where I’ll be.

So I needed my own way to celebrate. It’s been too summery for hot ham water, and a breakfast of vodka with toast seemed a bit sharp after a long weekend away. Bluth’s original frozen bananas were the clear winner.

This is easy. Freeze bananas on a popsicle stick. Cover in melted chocolate. Toppings optional. Eat.

It’s a quick recipe, which is good, because our Sunday will be spent binging on the Bluths. To make more or fewer servings, just adjust the number of bananas (you can also cut them in half crosswise if you’d like) and chocolate.

Buster. Gangy. Gob. I can not wait.

And don’t forget…

There’s always money in the banana stand. Truth. Thanks for all the life lessons, Papa Bluth.

bluth’s original frozen bananas

These chocolate-covered banans are perfect after a dinner of hot ham water. Enjoy while wearing your favorite pair of jorts and serve with unlimited juice. 

4 medium ripe bananas
popsicle sticks
8 to 10 ounces dark or bittersweet chocolate, coarsely chopped
toasted nuts, chopped (optional)
sprinkles (optional)

Peel bananas and cut off about a 1-inch piece at the end of each one. Carefully slide a popsicle stick into the flat end of each banana. Place the bananas on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Place in the freezer until the bananas are firm, overnight or at least for two hours.

Melt chocolate in a double boiler (a metal bowl over a saucepan of simmering water). Stir until chocolate is completely melted and smooth, then pull it off the heat.

Grab a banana by the popsicle stick and use a spoon to quickly cover it in chocolate, working over the same bowl. Work quickly as the chocolate will harden pretty fast. Do not dunk the banana into the chocolate or the whole thing might harden. Immediately roll the chocolate-covered banana in any toppings if using.

Serve immediately or store in ziploc bags in the freezer.

Serves 4.

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. A soft tortilla cradled pork carnitas 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 to drink there 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.

Belgians and bffs at Adelbert’s Brewery.

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! Brewery glasses and Mexican saffron from Fiesta Supermarket are my souvenirs. 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.