Monday, November 23, 2009


When I worked in restaurants I often cornered chefs and asked them endless questions. I was young and very new to restaurant cooking. I was a bit of a pest. I wanted hard and fast cooking rules. Their responses were often more poetic than practical.

Me: "How much salt should you put in the water when shocking vegetables?"
Chef: "Put enough salt in the water that it tastes like the ocean."

Me: "When is the lamb done?"
Chef: "When it just starts to feel like a woman's breasts. A bit springy."

Maybe a 25-year old's breasts.

Now that I'm starting to write my own recipes I'm realizing how hard it is to translate cooking into words. There are always exceptions and variations. Heat sources vary. It's hard to remember exactly what I did. What details should be included? History? Failed attempts? Seasonal obstacles? How the hell do you teach someone to cook without bogging them down with too much information?

The cookbook author Richard Olney (Simple French Food and The French Menu Cookbook) managed to beautifully, whimsically, and meticulously extract recipes out of home cook Lulu Peyraud's brain and hands. Their collaboration is a book called Lulu's Provençal Table. Lulu Peyraud was French. Her family made great wine (still does) in Bandol, France and year after year she cooked really good food for her family. We are fortunate to get a glimpse into her world because Olney happened to live near her family's winery, Domaine Tempier. They had many meals together. Olney spent two years collaborating with Peyraud on this cookbook. She cooked and talked. He wrote and asked questions. He took her culinary intuition, insight and experience and put it on the page. Olney was a culinary translator.

"To peel tomatoes, Lulu first strokes the skins with a small knife blade."

"Lulu figures that guinea fowl is about the only flesh she knows that is flattered by the aggressive presence of smoked bacon." 
There are four ingredients in the recipe for asparagus vinaigrette, but the recipe details take up two full pages. Turns out French asparagus is usually cut below the surface of the ground while American asparagus is often cut above the ground. To be tender enough, the stalks of French asparagus should be peeled quite a bit more. Did you know that large quantities of asparagus should be tied in bundles before being boiled "both for correct cooking and for an acceptable presentation"? Olney even describes how to tilt a plate in order to correctly dip the asparagus tip into the vinaigrette. (Dipping is allowed?) 

When Olney accused Peyraud of giving him different instructions from day-to-day for the same recipe she said, "Well sometimes I do it one way and sometimes another—both are good." Richard Olney was so good at expressing the fluidity and flexibility of Lulu Peyraud's cooking. His style of culinary translation has me thinking about recipes in a very different way.

While writing my next recipe maybe I'll start with the specific ingredients and then tell a story. And I've always liked the idea of encouraging cooks to stray from the recipe. I might start using more imagery—just as those chefs did with me when I was pestering them for information. A sponge cake is done when it springs back like a baby's belly. When sugar starts to caramelize it reminds me every time of cotton candy. Wait for that nutty smell when butter starts to brown.

Less about timing and precision. More about touch, smell, taste, and play. It's a good thing I'm cooking so much with kids these days because this is very much how two-year olds relate to food. They don't care how much flour goes in the bowl or how much time you need to bake the cookies. Tart dough is edible playdough. Clementines are like building blocks. It's always a combination of inspiration and frustration for all of us.

Dash's friend Lola came over last Saturday. Dash and Lola are both two. And both are a little more interested in Mr. Talking Cash Register than the tarts that I'm SO EXCITED to make. The plan is to cook a goat cheese tart for lunch and a sweet squash tart for dessert, both inspired by Lulu Peyraud's style of cooking.

First a lengthy snack of melon. They melon-ball it directly into their mouths, skipping the bowl entirely.
Then Dash and Lola play guns, swords, and guitars with rolling pins.

Dash shakes all the tart pans and finds his favorite. Lola grabs a very small toy knife and holds onto it until we're done cooking. It's her security knife.
I roll out the dough and they help press it into the pans. But I can see I'm losing them. Dash wants to go play trains. Lola just wants out. After a snack of some scraps and a little shadow puppetry on the tart dough, we release them.
Dandy, Lola's mom, skateboards off to get goat cheese. Yes, skateboards. She owns the skate shop 510 Skateboarding. Super cool mom.

While Dandy zips around the neighborhood, I bake the tart shell for 10 minutes. I don't know what Dash and Lola are doing in the other room. Classical music is blaring. All the toys are out. I usually watch Dash like a hawk because he tends to climb up onto windowsills, run with scissors, and collect sharpies from Bella's room. I blindly trust that everything will be fine. I'm hoping that Lola's calm demeanor will rub off on him.

Skateboarding momma returns and we throw the goat cheese, egg, and cream into the mixer.

We are all very hungry. This is when I decide I was crazy to think we could cook two tarts. So we combine the two tarts into one. We're now making a tart with goat cheese, squash, and winter greens.

I saute the onions, garlic, and squash. Lola removes the tender greens from the fibrous stalks and adds them to the squash mixture.
After painting the bottom of the tart shell with the goat cheese mixture, we spread on the warm squash and greens. Tons of parmesan over the top and into the oven. At this point I have no idea how it's going to turn out.

I make a quick fennel, orange and greens salad. Dandy doesn't like fennel. I sneak it in anyway, just sliced really thinly.
We sit down and have one delicious and very chaotic lunch. Dandy wonders what the yummy thin white vegetable is in the salad. I admit that it's fennel.

You know at the end of a cooking show when the host takes a bite of the finished dish and a little cheese drips down her chin, she pauses, looks at the camera and says, "Yum. Delicious. I wish YOU could taste this tart." The problem is I never believe her. It never sounds sincere.

I call Dandy a few days later to see what she thought of the tart. Without pausing she says,  "Delicious." You don't know Dandy but you should trust her. The tart kicked butt.

With cooking you move forward and then back. You change course. Just like writing. Every time I go to write down an ingredient I always want to give options and alternate paths. The trick is to cook like Lulu Peyraud and to write like Richard Olney. I'm not there yet, but I'm happy to say the tart we made the other day was born out of experience, intuition, chaos, spontaneity and a great CSA (community supported agriculture) box from Full Belly Farm.

P.S. Since we only made one tart with Lola, we have an extra tart shell. We freeze it. A few days later Dash and I make goat cheese and caramelized onion tart with olives and anchovies (my mom and I have been doing this combination for years). We use the same goat cheese filling that's in the squash and winter greens tart. Dash loves putting on all of the olives and "anchopeas."

printable recipe
Inspired by Lulu's Provençal Table.
Feeds 4.

tart dough:
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
pinch of salt
8 tablespoon (one stick) unsalted butter, very cold
3-4 tablespoons ice water

squash/greens topping:
olive oil
1 small winter squash (butternut, kabocha, or pumpkin work great), peeled and cored and chopped   into dime-sized chunks
1 small onion, diced
1 clove garlic
1 bunch of winter greens (chard, kale or collards), tender leaves only–use stalks for something else
grated parmesan

cheese filling:
1 cup goat cheese, fresh not aged
1 egg
big pinch of salt
2 tablespoons cream or half and half

Make the tart dough at least an hour, preferably several hours before you need it. You can do it by hand or in a food processor. Mix together flour and salt. Cut in butter (with fingers, pastry cutter, two knives, or food processor). Stop when the butter pieces are about the size of peas. Add half of the water (leaving ice cubes behind) and pulse two times with the food processor. If you're doing it by hand just mix a bit with a fork. It should start to look a bit stringy in places with some dry patches. Add a bit more water if it looks more dry than stringy. Pulse or mix again. Dump loose dough onto a big piece of plastic wrap. Don't touch it anymore with your hands. Press the dough together into a disc with the plastic wrap.  Don't overmix. Put it in the fridge for at least an hour. If I'm in a hurry I'll put it in the freezer for 45 minutes.

Roll the dough out and press into any shape tart pan (I used a 9-inch round).  Chill for another 20 minutes.  Preheat oven to 350°F. Cook tart shell until you start to smell it and it looks less moist, about 10 minutes. Keep oven on.

Drizzle a tablespoon or so of olive oil into a saute pan and add diced onion after about a minute. Saute until translucent. Turn down to low. Grate (or thinly slice or press) in the garlic. Stir until you smell nutty garlic smell (less than a minute). Stir in the squash. Put a lid on and cook until squash is just tender. Check it every 5 minutes or so. It cooks very fast. Toss in the winter greens, season with salt and pepper, and put the lid back on. Turn off the heat. Leave for a few minutes to wilt. Stir and taste. Add more salt and pepper if necessary.

By hand or with any kind of mixer, cream together the goat cheese, egg, cream, salt, and pepper until light and smooth (3 minutes or so).

Evenly spread goat cheese mixture over the bottom of the tart shell (when the tart shell is a little warm it's even easier to spread because it melts a little bit). Place squash mixture on top of the goat cheese (it's ok if it's still warm). Spread it carefully and evenly to prevent the top and bottom layers from mixing. Grate tons of parmesan on top. Cooking time will vary anywhere from about 30-50 minutes. Check it often and take it out when the goat cheese is set and parmesan is golden brown. Careful not to overcook it. It will continue to set once it's out of the oven.

Variations: Except for the tart dough, there is a lot of flexibility with the ingredients.
  • Mix two different kinds of cheese (blue and goat OR ricotta and quark).
  • Use potatoes instead of squash. 
  • Do 8 mini tarts instead of 1 big one. 
  • Top the cheese filling with caramelized onions, anchovies and niçoise olives (my mom and I have been doing this combination for years). It's like a very rich pissaladière. I will do an entire post on caramelized onions sometime soon. If you want some good tips right away buy Lulu's Provençal Table and check out her pissaladière recipe.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009


During his "naps" Dash has been busy building what he calls "big cakes" by stacking clothes, toys and stuffed animals. These towering creations come up to his belly button. I can see him stacking things through the keyhole in his bedroom door.

Meanwhile, I've been busy building salads. Here's one that I tried several times last week. The flavors are intense but if you cut the fennel very thinly and finish the salad off with paper thin curls of parmesan, the texture can be quite delicate.

Feeds 1 with some dressing left over.  

Once sliced, the fennel needs to be dressed immediately or it will turn brown. This salad is best done at the last minute. If you can't find fresh figs, rehyrate some dried figs with a little hot water and chop them finely OR puree them in the food processor for a creamier dressing.

3 figs
2 teaspoons sherry wine vinegar
squeeze of lemon
1 shallot, finely chopped
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 navel orange
handful of watercress or arugula
1 fennel bulb
12 or so parsley leaves

For the dressing. Cut figs in half, scoop out flesh with a teaspoon, and put it in a bowl. Add vinegar, lemon juice, and chopped shallot to fig flesh and mix well. Let sit for a few minutes. Slowly whisk in olive oil.

With a serrated knife, remove the peel from the orange. Cut out the orange sections from between the white membranes. Catch all the juice. Add half the juice to the salad dressing. Cut the fronds and a bit of the root bottom off of the fennel bulb. You can peel off the outer layer with a vegetable peeler if it looks tough or bruised. Very thinly slice about half of the fennel bulb by hand or with a mandoline. It looks nicer if you start slicing from the root bottom.

Combine fennel with watercress, orange sections, and parsley. Season with salt and pepper. Toss with some of the fig salad dressing and toss the salad with your hands. It needs lots of dressing. Add parmesan to top of salad with vegetable peeler. Drizzle over a bit more olive oil and some crunchy salt.

Variations:  Add pine nuts, grapefruit or avocado. Or all of the above. Try balsamic vinegar instead of sherry vinegar (sweeter but still quite good). If you want the dressing to have a little more bite add a teaspoon of Dijon mustard and some finely grated garlic.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009


The past few weeks are a Jamie Oliver blur.

Turns out it's very easy to get people to rave about Jamie Oliver. The collected impressions add up to quite a love letter. The orange quotes throughout the post are from others. The rest of the gushing (black text) is from me.

"He's young."
"He's innovative."
"He's a humanitarian."
"He's totally hot and like the bad boy of culinary exquisiteness."

When someone comes over to our house, Dash runs up and says, "You wanna see Jamie Oliver? You wanna SEE him?" As if we're hiding him in the bathroom. Then he pulls out Jamie Oliver cookbooks, points to different photos of the chef and asks, "Is that Jamie? Look that. Fig tart. We make that recipede."

Yes we did. 

Tart shell. Bella and her friend Jacob cream the butter and sugar by hand. They slice open the vanilla bean and scrape out the seeds. After dumping the dough on the table they gather it together and mush it into squares. Very satisfying, they say.

"Jamie Oliver taught me how to cook."
"Jamie taught me how to be an intuitive cook."
"I became the owner of each recipe."
"Less about recipe. More about cooking."
Frangipane filling. Almonds, flour, butter, sugar, eggs, more vanilla bean. Splash of grappa, if you have some. We put in Grand Marnier instead.
Assembly. Even a sleepy 2-year old can do it. Spread frangipane in bottom of half-baked shell. Press in figs. Sprinkle with almonds, orange zest, lemon zest, sugar, and thyme. Bake.
It actually looks a lot like the photograph in the cookbook. This doesn't happen very often. Serve it with mascarpone. And dessert wine. But be warned, it's very sweet.

"He's effortless."
"I like a flirty recipe."
"He writes visually. Knob of butter. Glug of olive oil."
"Jamie Oliver taught me how to stock my pantry. Olive oil, garlic, salt, pepper and lemons."

Cooking shows can be so awkward. There's no flow. Everything is already prepped and half-cooked. There is often this look of confusion in the host's eyes as he or she searches for a spatula or salt in his or her "kitchen." Not so with Jamie Oliver.

It's a beautiful thing to watch Jamie Oliver whack the shit out of herbs, garlic, lemon, salt and olive oil with his mortar and pestle. Even his first cooking show (The Naked Chef)—with the odd format of a woman interviewing him off-camera—shows him in his element. We are with him in his actual kitchen.  Over the years as the kitchens (eventually sets?) get lovelier and lovelier, Jamie still manages to dance around the space, reaching behind him without looking to grab a sheetpan, twirling around to whip the vegetables out of the oven just a little too late.

"He changed how I make salad. Layers, not tossed."
"So many vegetables." 

We flip through Jamie's cookbooks for inspiration.  I pile up all our fall vegetables on the counter and just start peeling and chopping. Dash scoops the seeds and pulp out of the delicata squash. He does a face plant into the scraps and inhales deeply. "Yum," he says. He tastes the raw squash and spits it out.
Potatoes, sweet potatoes, delicata squash (did you know you can actually leave the skin on this particular squash?), a dozen cloves of garlic still in their skins, lots of salt, pepper and thyme.

" He cooks with and for his kids." 
"Feels like you're part of his family. I want to be part of his family."

Jamie started cooking as a teenager at his dad's pub in Essex and worked his way on up to be the executive chef at London's River Cafe. He has over 10 cookbooks and just as many cooking shows. He started a restaurant in London called Fifteen that trains and hires young adults—many of whom were formerly homeless, unemployed or addicted to drugs. Three more restaurants following this model have opened in Amsterdam, Melbourne and Cornwall. So far he has 6 Italian restaurants. He also has THREE KIDS. And he's only 34.

"He mixes meat with fruit."
"He zests lemon into everything."
"Smell, touch, taste, adjust."
"Sometimes he steps back and just marvels at the beauty of a cooking step or an ingredient."

Make a marinade by pounding rosemary, thyme, lemons, and garlic with a mortar and pestle. Throw potatoes, pears, and turnips into a roasting pan with pork chops and marinade. Don't bake it for 45 minutes like we did.

We make a delicious but very dry pork. Look at the caramelized lemons resting on the finished pork. We smear it on bread with the roasted garlic.

"He's an important person."
"He progressed from a good chef to an incredible human being." 
"A humanitarian through food."

Jamie believes that feeding processed foods to children is a form of child abuse. Over the past few years he has been trying to teach everyone how to eat better—from English schoolchildren to Middle Americans. After Jamie exposed the horrors of school lunches to the public, the British government invested over ONE BILLION DOLLARS to try to make some changes. Holy shit. Imagine what an organization like Edible Schoolyard could do with that kind of money.

"Isn't he the one that kicked off the whole campaign about better school lunches for children? A chef that creates a global consciousness for school kids understanding the benefits of health food. Now that is hot!"

We start cooking lamb pretty late one afternoon. Bella reluctantly agrees to help, but when I bust out two knives for her she is totally psyched. She scores the meat with a little too much energy. Then she tucks rosemary and garlic underneath the shoulder. Salt. Pepper. More rosemary and garlic on top. Cover it with a lid or tin foil. We throw it in the oven and forget about it (on purpose) for 4 hours. We serve it with roasted vegetables and couscous. Bella gets out of bed at 10pm to taste the caramelized ooey gooey lamb and pronounces it A-MA-ZING. She sits down with us and has a second dinner.
I don't want to put words in Jamie Oliver's mouth but I have a strong sense of what he stands for.  Know where your food comes from. Taste as you go along. Grow some herbs on your window sill. Support local farms. Cook with your kids. Use organic ingredients. Improvise. Cooking doesn't have to be a chore. Cooking can be fun. Cooking is messy. And anyone can do it.

And my big revelation this week? Our fridge is so full of lamb and pork and vegetables and tarts and sauces.  The freezer is packed with pesto and cookie dough and bread and meat scraps and tomato sauce and chicken stock and cakes. ALL OF THIS TIME SPENT COOKING IS ACTUALLY MAKING OUR LIVES EASIER IN THE LONG RUN. We have so many options for school lunches and leftovers for dinner.

P.S.: Here's what Bella said about Jamie Oliver: "I love his food AND I love Nigella Lawson's cakes." So do I. Nigella's chocolate cakes coming soon...


Fig Tart (adapted from Crostata di Fichi in "Jamie's Italy")
printable recipe

As beautiful and as delicious as it was, I still found it too sweet. I would try this tart again with apricots or plums. Or you could replace the sweet tart dough with an unsweetened dough. A cornmeal dough would be great as well. The tart dough recipe that I've listed tastes very good and it browns nicely.  You'll need a deep 9-inch tart pan with a removable bottom. Or a shallower 11-inch pan.

tart dough:
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, room temp
1 cup powdered sugar
pinch of salt
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 egg yolks
seeds from one vanilla bean OR 2 teaspoons vanilla
zest  of 1/2 a lemon
zest of 1/2 orange
2-3 tablespoons ice water

frangipane filling:
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temp
1 cup blanched ground almonds or almond meal
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup sugar
2 eggs
seeds from 1 vanilla bean OR 2 teaspoons vanilla
1 tablespoon grappa or Grand Marnier

12 figs, apricots, or plums
teaspoon of thyme leaves
zest of 1/2 orange
zest of 1/2 lemon
handful of blanched chopped almonds
1 tablespoon of sugar (preferably chunky like turbinado)

For the tart shell. Cream butter, sugar and salt by hand or in a food processor. Add yolks, vanilla and zests. Mix just to combine. Add flour. Mix briefly until it resembles coarse cornmeal. Pulse or mix in 2 tablespoons ice water. Add more water if dough seems too dry.  Dump onto the counter and press into a flat disc. Wrap in plastic wrap or parchment paper. Refrigerate for at least an hour. Roll out and press into tart pan. The dough is hard to work with. It's fine to patch holes and tears with extra pieces. Once it's cooked no one will know the difference. Chill for at least a half an hour.

Preheat oven to 325°F.

For the frangipane. Combine almonds, flour and sugar. In a separate bowl cream the butter. Mix in the almond mixture. Add the eggs, vanilla and liquor. Mix until just combined. Chill in fridge until you're ready to use it.

Bake off the tart shell for about 15 minutes at 325°F until slightly golden. Cool for 10 minutes. Fill the half-baked shell with the frangipane. Spread it out evenly. Jamie has this great fig trick. Cut off stems. Cut an x in the top of fig. Press the bottom of the fig up an through the x. Press the figs down into the frangipane with the x facing up. (If you're using using apricots or plums, cut them in half, remove pits and place halves face up.) Sprinkle with almonds, lemon and orange zests, and sugar. Throw it in the oven. Check after 45 minutes. Cover with tin foil if it's browning too much. It's done when the frangipane is puffed and golden. It's okay for it to be a little bit gooey in the center.  Sprinkle on powered sugar, cinnamon or both right before serving. Serve with unsweetened mascarpone, creme fraiche, or whipped cream.

Pork Chops (adapted from Tray-Baked Chops with Herby Potatoes, Parsnips, Pears and Minted Bread Sauce in "The Return of the Naked Chef")

This dish is great over polenta and smeared with any kind of pesto.

8 Pork chops
8 cloves garlic, skins on
2 sprigs of thyme and/or rosemary
3 quartered lemons, seeds removed
3 pears
6 turnips and/or parsnips
10-12 yukon gold potatoes

Preheat oven to 425°F.

Pound garlic, herbs, and lemon with mortar and pestle.  Or just beat the heck out of it in a bowl with a mallet or wooden spoon. Spread marinade over pork chops. Marinate for a few hours or overnight if you want (but not necessary). If pear skin isn't too tough leave it on. Cut pears in half. Core. Cut into eighths. Cut potatoes and turnips/parsnips into smaller pieces since they need to cook longer than the pears. Mix vegetables and pears with marinated pork. Generously season with salt and pepper. Spread out on sheetpan and throw in the oven. Check them after 25 minutes. Cut a chop open to check it out. You still want the chops to be faintly pink in the center when you take them out.

Roasted Lamb Shoulder With Caper Balsamic Mint sauce (adapted from Incredible Roasted Shoulder of Lamb with Smashed Veg and Greens in "Jamie at Home"):

This is so good with roasted root vegetables (see below).  It's also great served over couscous or polenta.

1 boned shoulder of lamb
1 head of garlic
lots of rosemary and thyme
1 tablespoon flour
1 cup chicken stock
1 tablespoon capers with brine
1/2 cup chopped mint
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

Crank your oven up as high as it goes. Score fatty side of shoulder. Slather whole shoulder with olive oil. Season with salt and pepper. Place shoulder with fatty side up. Place a bunch of rosemary, thyme, and whole garlic cloves still in their skin underneath the shoulder. Place more garlic and herbs on top of the shoulder. Cover with tin foil or a tight-fitting lid.

Turn oven temperature down to 325°F. Throw lamb in the oven for 4 hours. Check every hour or so. If anything is sticking or burning add a little water or wine. It's done when it's just falling apart when you pull it with a fork.

Remove lamb. Put it on a plate and cover it to rest. Dump out most of the fat and herb stalks. Place back on heat and add the flour. Stir constantly for 2 minutes as you cook out the flour flavor and scrape up the goodies in the pan. Add the stock and cook down for a minute. Add capers and cook for another minute. Add vinegar and mint. Season with salt and paper to taste. Poor over lamb and serve.

Roasted Root Vegetables:

Cut up (to about the same size) a combination of potatoes, sweet potatoes, squash, turnips and  parsnips. Carrots work well too. Add the garlic cloves still in their skins, several tablespoons of olive oil, pepper and lots of salt. Add several sprigs of rosemary and thyme. High heat (400°F) for 45 minutes or so. Check and stir often. Let the vegetables caramelize and burn a little bit.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009


Today I'm starting a new set of posts called LUNCHTIME MINUS DASH AND BELLA.

I love the challenge of throwing something together in 15 minutes or so that's JUST FOR ME. It's often a combination of odds and ends from my fridge. I thought these posts might be a nice counterbalance to the (wonderful) CHAOS of cooking with Dash and Bella. I'm feeling the need to tell some shorter stories AND to create my own recipes. See quick meals or twitter in the right navigation bar for previous entries. Here's what I ate for lunch today (actually, inhaled for lunch) while Dash redecorated his room instead of napping.


I have a huge jar of anchovies in my fridge. I put them in everything. As long as you keep them covered with olive oil they last forever.  In this recipe they just bring a nice saltiness to the dressing. It doesn't taste fishy at all. I'm now down to the very end of parsley and basil on my porch but I keep throwing those final sad leaves into my salads. I keep walnut oil in my fridge. But olive or hazelnut oil would work for this recipe. Leftover lamb or pork would also work nicely in this salad.

1 teaspoon grainy dijon mustard
1/4 anchovy filet
2 teaspoons red wine vinegar
2 tablespoons walnut oil

Salad Components:
Big handful of endive, arugula or mixed greens
Leftover cooked white meat chicken, cut up
Seeds from 1/2 a pomegranate
Chunk of blue cheese, crumbled
Parsley and basil, coarsely chopped

Chop or mash anchovy and place in a bowl. Whisk in mustard and vinegar. Slowly whisk in walnut oil. Set aside.

Put greens, chicken, pomegranate, blue cheese and herbs into a bowl. Toss with dressing. Add pepper to taste. No salt necessary because of the anchovy.

Serve with crackers to scoop up the goodies on the bottom of the bowl.