THE FIRST TIME

I am 18. He is 20. I am two months away from moving to New York City to dance my ass off. He is visiting California for the first time. We are counselors at a French camp. I wear frosted lipstick and cutoff Levi's. He wears light blue eyes and strong legs. I don't remember the campers, the face painting, the sing-alongs. I do remember the fumbly first kiss behind the redwood tree. He holds my gaze for so long that I have to turn away so as not to self-destruct. He plays the trumpet with such abandon and excessive spit and smiles that I want to bottle up his spirit and take it with me off to the big city. He chats up any stranger walking down the street. He eats everything. He drinks too much. He feeds me. He challenges my atheism. He talks dirty. He flirts with my 42-year-old mother. He picks me up, throws me in the air, spins me around.

After a few weeks, I find myself kissing him goodbye in one of those dramatic airport farewells. As he walks away, blowing kisses and mouthing je t'aime Phyllis je t'aime, I hit the ground, sobbing hysterically. These are the snail mail olden days, so no emails or photos or sexts. Not even a phone call. Just weeks and weeks of pining before the next tracing-paper-thin Airmail envelope arrives with promises of how someday we will meet up again.

The following summer, I fly up up and away to Belgium. I land and meet his parents and siblings and cousins and best friends. They wrap me up in love and frites and tartes aux pommes and moules and beer. At long last, he and I stumble home to his apartment somewhere deep in Brussels where Jazz musicians live in 1989. It is a funky rambling mess of rooms with huge windows, nooks and cranies filled with books and music, and a bed so high up in a loft that I'm scared I will fall to my death while looking for the bathroom in the middle of the night. I sleep belly-full heart-content deeply.

I wake to an empty bed and start floating about the apartment, flipping through LPs, peering in closets, sniffing bottles of Drakkar Noir. When I find the lipstick and photo evidence of a female companion shoved to the back back of a drawer, I slide to the floor and try to soften my seizing heart, to unscramble my churning belly. And just when I've decided I'm ready to make my way back to Berkeley as that loser who convinced herself she totally had a Belgian boyfriend but really didn't, he bursts through the door with fresh croissants and the newspaper.

He kisses my shoulders. He makes me coffee. He kisses each finger. He searches the refrigerator and finds cheese and jam. He kisses my cheek forehead nose mouth. And then we scramble giggle our way back upstairs to tumble about some more in that crazy loft. And then back to the dining room where he tucks me into my chair with a napkin and the newspaper. And then a lot of slamming around in the cupboard until ah je l'ai trouvé and bam he places this mysterious jar of chocolate spread on the table. He feeds me a fingerful. I sip my very strong coffee. I gesture feed me more please now don't stop. He moves too slowly so I grab the jar and take over.

(24 years later, I'm still eating Nutella out of the jar. But this year, I've been playing around a bit by throwing it into ice cream. Creatures big and small have been digging it.)

CRUNCHY NUTELLA ICE CREAM

printable recipe
The Nutella must be room-temperature.

ingredients:

6 egg yolks

1 cup half & half

1 cup room-temperature Nutella (for the custard base)

pinch kosher salt

2 cups heavy cream

1/4 - 1/2 cup room-temperature Nutella (to swirl through at the end)*

directions:

Whisk together yolks, half & half, Nutella (1 cup), and salt. Set aside. Add a few cups of ice to a large bowl. Put a smaller bowl in the larger bowl. Place a fine strainer on top of the small bowl. Set aside.

Heat cream until right before it comes to the boil (it will bubble along the edges). Turn off heat. Slowly slowly super slowly whisk hot cream into the Nutella/yolk mixture. Pour mix back into pot and stir constantly on medium heat until until it thickens slightly. For some reason this custard thickens quickly so be vigilant. It's ready when you draw your finger along the back of a wooden spoon and your finger leaves a trail. Turn off heat. Pour custard through strainer into the small bowl. Add just enough water to the ice so that the cold water rises up to the level of the custard. Stir occasionally. When cool, remove from ice bath and cover with plastic wrap. Refrigerate for several hours.

Place your ice cream container in the freezer, preferably something long and flat like a loaf pan so that it's easy to swirl in the Nutella (see note below). Churn the ice cream according to manufacturer's instructions. Fill the frozen container up halfway with ice cream. Drizzle half of the Nutella (1/4 cup) all over the surface. With a fork, swirl it through the ice cream. Break up large blops of Nutella because once frozen they are hard to chew and make the ice cream challenging to scoop. Cover with second half of ice cream. Swirl through second half of Nutella. Freeze for a few hours or overnight.

*A quick note about the Nutella. Feel free to follow the directions above. But lately, I haven't been swirling it through the ice cream because it's just too sweet for me. I use half as much and just add the Nutella to the top. Try to drizzle it over thinly (a honey dipper works great)  so that you don't get large chunks of frozen Nutella in any bites.

HOW WE MEDITATE IN BERKELEY

Call out I'm massaging some kale, who wants to join me?

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Receive the very familiar rejection chorus of I'm doing my homework, I'm snuggling with the dog, I'm going to clean my room, I need to work on my screenplay.

Dodge a kiss from your husband because you don't remember the last time you brushed your teeth. Throw six anchovies into a hot cast iron pan. Thwack the garlic cloves off the microplane grater and watch them merge with the melting fishies. Scare your husband out of the kitchen by turning the radio to Ryan Seacrest's American Top 40. Whisk in dijon, olive oil, scrappily chopped shallots, and one two three big splashes of sherry wine vinegar. Drag your finger through the warm mix. Taste. Forget who you are, where you are, what you are.

Wipe the anchovy grease off the stove with a paper towel and toss it into the overflowing compost bin. Wash, dry, stack, chop the kale. Place in a large bowl. Drizzle with olive oil. 

Smell a fire. Wonder if someone is smoking outside your kitchen window. Imagine smoking your first cigarette in over 18 years. See yourself enjoying an 11 a.m. martini along with that cigarette. Shake shake shake that dream right on out of your head.

Start shifting the leaves between your fingertips.

Smell a fire. Worry that someone's house is burning down.

Squeeze and twist the leaves until they wilt down and explode in all their green glory. Know that you could do this all day long and be quite content.

Look up from the kale and realize that the fire is three feet in front of you in your own kitchen. Yell out unprintable words. Dump an entire box of baking soda on the flaming compost bin. Hide the smoking mess on the back porch. Hose it down.

Resume the massage. Hear a 5-year-old creature creeping up from behind. Spin around and scare your son by flashing oily green hands. Evade his questions about the smoky kitchen. Turn up the radio. Massage the kale in four-handed unison. Belt out I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart. Tell your son that kale has been as overplayed in 2013 as this song by The Lumineers. Realize that he has no idea what you're talking about.

Toss the kale with the warm vinaigrette. Turn the radio off. Invite your husband to step away from his screenplay and into the kitchen. Give him a deep anchovy-garlic-flavored kiss. Watch your son scrunch his face up in disgust. Feel happy that he's more grossed out by kisses than by kale.

Motherfucking om.

I've made 20 different kale salads over the past month. A few thoughts:

—I 've used many different kinds of kale. Dinosaur, curly, Siberian, and premier. All with great success.
— You don't have to destem the kale. But according to Dash, it's more enjoyable if you do because then you don't have to pick the stems out of your teeth. Up to you. But don't bother when the leaves are small and delicate.
—If you choose to massage your kale, it will wilt down to about 1/3 of the original amount. So buy a lot of kale!

— These greens will suck up anything you put on them. The dressing must be flavorful or your salad will be boring. High acid. Hella garlic. Generous amount of salt. After massaging with olive oil, you can toss the greens with fresh garlic, olive oil, salt, and lemon juice. Or you can get a bit more complicated and make a warm anchovy garlic vinaigrette (see recipe below). 

— Kale goes beautifully with squash, potatoes, citrus, nuts, cheese, bacon, lamb, chicken. So you can make a side salad or pile on the components and turn the situation into a full meal.

— You can mix the already massaged kale in with other greens such as cabbage, fennel, romaine.

— Once massaged, it holds up really well in the fridge for a few days.

Things to add to the massaged kale:

— Toasted almond, navel orange slices, blue cheese.
— Pine nuts, parmesan, pomegranate molasses, chopped parsley (see first photo below).
— Roasted butternut squash, roasted garlic, thick balsamic vinegar (see second photo below).
— Avocado, tangerine, walnuts.
— Manchego, apple, pecans.
— Balsamic-grilled peaches, goat cheese.
— Flank steak, grilled onions.
— Chicken, caramelized shallots, preserved lemons.

MASSAGED KALE SALAD WITH ANCHOVY GARLIC DRESSING
printable recipe
Here's a template. See above for some possible additions. Almost anything works with kale. It also tastes great very simply dressed.

ingredients:

6 anchovy fillets, packed in oil

3 cloves garlic, grated or very finely chopped
2 tablespoons sherry wine vinegar

1 shallot, chopped (about 1 tablespoon)

1 tablespoon dijon mustard

4-8 tablespoons olive oil (for dressing)

2 big bunches kale (any kind)

3-5 tablespoons olive oil (for massaging kale)

crunchy salt

directions:

Heat a pan on medium heat (I use cast iron for this recipe). Add anchovies. Use a spatula or wooden spoon to help them disintegrate. Once they're a paste, turn heat to low heat and add grated garlic. Cook for about 30 seconds until the garlic smells sweet and fragrant. Whisk in vinegar.  Add shallots and cook for about 30 seconds. Take off the heat. Whisk in mustard. Slowly whisk in half of the olive oil. Taste. Add more olive oil if it's too tangy. 

With a knife or your fingers, strip kale leaves away from the stems. Save stems for vegetable stock or a gratin. Stack leaves. Chop into 2" slices. Wash. Dry. Place kale in a large bowl. Drizzle over a few tablespoons of olive oil. Massage for about 5 minutes. It will wilt down and soften quite a bit. 

Add big pinch of crunchy salt. Drizzle with a few tablespoons of anchovy vinaigrette. Toss. Taste. Let sit for 20 minutes. Taste again. You'll probably need to add a bit more dressing. Serve like this. Or toss with pretty much any meat, poultry, nuts, cheese, or fruit. See options above.

Once massaged, you can refrigerate the kale for a few days and the texture will remain the same. But don't add the vinaigrette until the day you're going to eat the kale.

CONTINUING

He places his empty mug in the dishwasher, puts his breakfast scraps in the compost bin, and starts to walk away.

You shiver with the anger of wanting to be anywhere but here. 

It's not the kind you dream about. You know, the whipping-you-around-and-throwing-you-against-the-kitchen-wall kind. This one is like an aside. 

You feel one hand on your shoulder and another on your lower back as he leans in to kiss you on the curve of the neck where the hair sometimes stands up. It is so unexpectedly gentle that some sort of warmth spreads along your spine until you feel all wrapped up in this casual kiss. And you start to cry from relief because you no longer want to throw a plate at his head or tell him to move the fuck out. You just settle. Into the dishes. Into your cooking clogs. Into the mess that you've made. The chaos that you've chosen. And hard as you try, you can't even remember why you were mad in the first place.

You make him some pancakes. And you tell him that you need more of those kisses. Please. More. 

CRÈME FRAÎCHE PANCAKES

printable recipe

Makes lots and lots of pancakes.

(This is adapted from a recipe that comes from my parents. They got it from a babysitter who lived in the apartment above ours in San Francisco in the '70s.)

Best to make the batter the night before. Keep it in the fridge. They are thin, delicate and crêpe-like. You can replace the crème fraîche with sour cream or yoghurt. Don't get all crazy and add whole grain anything because I swear they won't be as tasty. 

ingredients:

7 eggs

1 cup cottage cheese

1 1/4 cups crème fraîche

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1 1/4 cups flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon salt

directions:

Place all ingredients in the blender. Blend for 10 seconds. Scrape down the sides. Blend for about 15 more seconds. Pour into a pitcher. Use right away if you want. Or (even better) place it in the fridge overnight. It separates a bit when it sits in the fridge. The color can also look a little funky and green. Don't worry. Just mix it well right before use and all will be well.

Crank a griddle to high heat. Add some butter. Carefully pour batter to desired size (it will spatter a bit). They cook very fast (about 30 seconds per side). You'll need to keep regulating the heat between batches. Best to eat them right away. They don't hold up for long. Serve with butter and warm maple syrup. 

I'VE GOT THE FAMILY MEAL THING DOWN

(for my Bella)

Day 14 of winter break and my husband is in Bella's room knee-deep in pressed board and IKEA instruction manuals and Dash is so mad that I won't let him eat the first batch of crispy bacon that he is hiding under my bed with the dog and it turns out that as of the first of the year eggs in any form make Bella want to barf so I find myself staring at this layered salad wondering why the fuck I even bother when Bella starts digging through the dressed romaine with her fingers and I sputter out Bella what huh what are you kidding me um are you an animal and my tone is so awful and she looks so sad that she ended up with me as her mother that we find ourselves in a hands-on-hips standoff until poof her face opens up into a big smile and before I can yank her in for a hug she grabs some bacon and run run run slides into my bedroom to lure Dash and the dog out from under the bed and then she's yelling out daddy do you want some of mommy's salad because it's really good and I'll bring you some and then miraculously we are all eating at the same time with Dash commando crawling toward the kitchen holding a fistful of bacon and my husband allen-wrenching and nibbling on my five-minute eggs and Bella hovering with me utensil-free over the salad bowl tearing dipping slurping and when Dash finally arrives at the table we start talking about the events of the day like the arrival of Dash's new big boy bed and Bella's genius addition of Best Foods Mayonnaise to the Caesar dressing and the 1,254-piece Lego Millennium Falcon we just finished assembling and then Dash clears his throat and splays his hands with just-so-you-know emphasis and comes out with really mama you're so good at building things and there's a great Lego college in Los Angeles and you should go there you really should and for the first time since my daughter was born 10 years ago I don't want my babies to grow up.

ROMAINE SALAD WITH BACON, 5-MINUTE EGGS, AND CREAMY GARLIC ANCHOVY DRESSING 

printable recipe

You can do the 5-minute eggs a few days ahead of time and store them in the fridge. Bacon can also be done way ahead of time because it should be room temperature for the salad. The dressing also keeps for a few days in the fridge.

ingredients:

6  5-minute eggs (see below for recipe), peeled and halved

10 slices bacon

6 cloves garlic, peeled and whole (to be cooked in oil)

1 cup olive oil

2 cloves garlic, peeled and grated (kept raw)

5 anchovy fillets, packed in oil

1/2 teaspoon Colman's mustard powder

splash Worcestershire sauce

4 tablespoons champagne vinegar (or sherry wine vinegar)

1 tablespoon heavy cream

1 tablespoon mayonnaise (Best Foods, Hellman's, or homemade)

a large head of romaine, cleaned (perhaps stripped of any wilted outer pieces)

crunchy salt

lots of chopped parsley for garnish

directions:

Cook bacon on stovetop or under broiler until nice and crisp. Place cooked slices on paper towel to drain off excess fat until you're ready to assemble the salad.

Place garlic and olive oil in a pot on the back burner. Bring to the boil and immediately turn down to a simmer. Cook until garlic is tender (check with a paring knife; it takes about 15 minutes). Remove from heat and cool for about 15 minutes.

Scoop garlic out of oil and place in a mortar (or a regular bowl). Reserve oil for the dressing. With a pestle (or with the back of a spoon), mash the cooked garlic, grated raw garlic, anchovies, and mustard powder into a paste. Whisk in worcestershire sauce, vinegar, heavy cream, and mayonnaise. Whisking the whole time, slowly drizzle in 4 tablespoons of reserved garlic oil (it's okay for it to still be a little warm). Taste. Adjust. You will probably need to add more oil. But if you like it super tangy you can add more vinegar or worcestershire sauce.

You can leave the romaine leaves whole. Or tear them up. Or cut them into bite-sized pieces. They look more awesome when they're whole but it's a pain in the ass to dress them and eat them (you might need your fingers). Most of the time I cut them up. 

Dress your greens with several spoonfuls of dressing. Add salt to taste. Toss with your hands. Taste. Add more dressing or salt if needed. Top with 5-minute eggs, bacon, and parsley. Sprinkle crunchy salt and a few drops of dressing on the yolks of the eggs. Eat right away. Serve with the remaining dressing in a pitcher.

5-MINUTE EGGS

printable recipe

6 eggs

Place eggs in a medium-sized pot that has a tight fitting lid. Cover eggs completely with cold water. Without the lid, bring water to the boil. Immediately turn off the heat. Cover with lid. Set timer right away for 5 minutes. Place a few handfuls of ice cubes in a bowl and cover with water. When timer goes off, carefully scoop out the eggs and place them into the ice bath. Leave them in the cold water for about 10 minutes. You can leave them out all day until ready to peel. Or store them in the fridge for a few days.

ON SUNDAY,

you pop in the CD.

Dash. Do you know what this is?

A speedy rhythmic boom boom boom bounces around the living room.

No. But it sounds intense.

You point to your chest.

It's this. In here. But it's yours. From when you were in my belly.

He looks left. He looks right. He looks like he wants to run away.

What? It's me? When I was a baby? 

Yes.

I was beating my own heart in there?

Yes you were.

Wow.

The dog barks, the rain rushes down, and you make French toast—your son's heartbeat rocking through the house.

BAKED BAGUETTE FRENCH TOAST

printable recipe
serves 4
You can soak this overnight but the texture will be more like a soufflé. If you do it 30 minutes before baking, it's a bit crunchier. But both techniques work well. You want the baguette to be stale but not as hard a a rock. You could save scraps in the freezer for a few weeks until you have enough for this dish. 

ingredients:

1 baguette, a bit stale

3 tablespoons butter

3 eggs
2 cups whole milk

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

2 tablespoons orange juice

1 teaspoon orange zest

pinch of kosher salt

3 tablespoons turbinado sugar

powdered sugar for the top

ideas for toppings:

warm maple syrup
warm maple syrup mixed with warm honey

blackberry sauce

Nutella
jam

directions:

Preheat oven to 375°F.

Trim 1/2 inch off of each end of the baguette and feed scraps to the dog. Slice baguette in half. Cut into serving-size pieces (4-5" long). Place bread cut-side up in an ovenproof dish and butter the top of each piece. Don't overlap the pieces.

In a medium-sized bowl, whisk the eggs. Add milk, vanilla extract, orange juice/zest, and salt. Whisk until foamy. Pour over bread. Flip the pieces around every 10 minutes or so to make sure both sides are soaking up the liquid . Leave in the liquid for about 30 minutes total. You want the bread to be wet but not soggy and falling apart. When you bake it, the bread should be resting in a small pool of the liquid but not drowning in it. You might need to pour off a few tablespoons of the liquid if the bread doesn't soak most of it up.

Make sure all pieces are cut-side up. Sprinkle turbinado sugar all over the top. Bake until the bread is puffed up and golden (30-40 minutes). You might need to throw it under the broiler for optimum crispy crunchy caramelized beauty. Sprinkle with powdered sugar and eat right away (but it does reheat nicely). Serve with optional toppings listed above.

I KNOW A MAMA WHO

Wakes up every Monday morning and vows to stop drinking wine forever and ever and ever and ever.  Forgets to drop her son off at his best friend's birthday party. Can't remember how she got from point A to point B but knows a car was involved and that the kids were in it. Likes to eat caramel sauce on top of caramel ice cream for lunch. Slams the dishwasher door shut with such anger that it breaks. Feels guilty when she does anything for herself. Drowns out her newborn baby's screams with Eminem. Wears her nightgown underneath her coat during the Monday morning carpool drop off. Knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that she could lift a truck if her son were trapped under it. Takes forever cooking dinner so that she can be by herself in the kitchen.  Makes her son go without his morning milk because she needs it for her coffee. Kicks a hole in the kitchen wall. Desperately misses her pre-breastfeeding breasts. Drinks martinis while cutting her childrens' hair. Grounds herself by placing a hand on her son's head. Wants to run away once a month. Still believes that Prince Charming is coming. Yells what the fuck at her son. Parallel parks her car into a tree branch. Sneaks in while her children sleep and inhales their exhales. Has an abortion because she is scared her marriage won't survive a third child. Keeps pretending she's too tired to read "Charlotte's Web" to her son because she doesn't want to live through Charlotte dying again. Doesn't love her babies until they're no longer babies. Says to her son you are my beauty cakes my little goose my precious donut. Doesn't always use a car seat. Calls her son a jerk in front of his best friend. Listens to Kelly Clarkson even when the kids aren't in the car. Is always one poem away from bursting into tears. Climbs into bed with her son when he's sleeping because that's when it seems like he loves her the most. Is scared of her daughter's beauty. Forgets she has children. Wonders if the love she feels for her son is the same kind of love that other moms feel. Gets jealous when someone else's kid is amazing. Loves one of her children more than the other. Throws books at her husband. Feeds her son dinner in the bath. Yells at her kids a little bit every day. Calls her husband  motherfucker in front of her son. Still knows the dance moves from Pat Benatar's "Love is a Battlefield" video. Flirts with her daughter's teacher. Is one tantrum away from taking away Christmas.  Thinks white bean soup with potatoes and Brussels sprouts can fix anything. Wishes she had a large tribe of women picking her up, carrying her along, rooting her on. Says out loud I'm a mama I'm a mama I'm a mama I'm a mama I'm a mama I'm a mama and still doesn't quite believe it. Feels like she's drowning. Feels like a superhero.

(Thank you to the six women who told me about mamahood and then oh so generously allowed me to intertwine their stories with mine. I owe them all truckloads of soup and ice cream.)

I've had a lot of Caramel Ice Cream and Caramel Sauce on hand for the past two years.  But I just started making this White Bean and Potato Soup with Brussels Sprouts. My newfound cracked out love for Brussels sprouts has sort of freaked me out (I used to hide them in my napkin or try to feed them to the dog). I coat them in pesto and crème fraîche. I sear the heck out of them in brown butter. I nibble on their crispy little caramelized leaves. I crave them as much as caramel ice cream. 

Make some crème fraîche and keep it festering on your counter for a few days. Confit some garlic and set it aside to cool. And then get busy making some soup. 

WHITE BEAN AND POTATO SOUP WITH GARLIC BROWN-BUTTER BRUSSELS SPROUTS
printable recipe

serves 4-6

for the soup:

2 tablespoons olive oil (or bacon fat)

3 stalks celery, diced

1 onion, peeled and diced

1 head fennel (tough outer layer peeled off), cored and diced
kosher salt

3 anchovies

3 cloves garlic, grated or finely chopped

1/2 cup white wine

10 medium-sized potatoes (my favorite are Yukon gold or butterball), peeled and cut into about 2" by 2" pieces

6 cups chicken stock (or vegetable stock)

2 cups or more white beans (navy, cannellini, or butter; previously cooked or from a jar or can)

kosher salt/pepper to taste

lemon juice
white or sherry wine vinegar

for the Brussels sprouts:
24 Brussels sprouts

kosher salt

pepper

1 tablespoon butter

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 teaspoon lemon zest

4 cloves garlic confit

1/4 cup chopped parsley
kosher salt/pepper to taste

optional toppings:

chopped parsley

crème fraîche

olive oil

coarse salt

thick balsamic vinegar
parmesan cheese
pine nuts
croutons

directions:

Place large soup pot on the stove over medium heat. Add olive oil and heat until hot but not smoking. Add celery, onion, fennel, and big pinch salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, until translucent and softened (about 10 minutes). Add anchovies and garlic, stir for a minute on medium heat until anchovies are dissolved (use back of wooden spoon to help them disintegrate). Add wine. Stir and cook down until liquid evaporates (about a minute). Add potatoes and chicken stock. Bring to the boil and then turn down to a simmer. Cook until potatoes are tender (about 20 minutes). Add white beans and simmer for another 20 minutes. Remove and puree half of the soup (or use an immersion blender). Add puree back to chunky soup. Taste and adjust. Season with salt, pepper, and/or lemon juice/vinegar. If it's too thick, add more chicken stock. Cover and keep warm while you make Brussels sprouts.

Preheat oven to 375°F. Trim stems off of Brussels sprouts and remove any brown outer leaves. Grate off half of each Brussels sprout. Set grated slaw aside. Don't worry if the intact halves look scrappy and funky. Salt and pepper exposed grated sides. Heat butter in a cast iron pan on high heat until it just starts to brown. Place Brussels sprouts grated-edges down into the brown butter. Keep an eye on them. When they're nicely browned (a minute or so), add olive oil, toss them about, and then throw the pan into the oven. Cook until just tender (about 20-25 minutes). Remove from the oven and toss in grated Brussels sprouts slaw, lemon zest, garlic confit, parsley, salt, and pepper. Mush up the garlic confit so that it spreads throughout the slaw. Throw back in the oven for two minutes. Remove from oven, stir, and taste. Season as needed.

Serve soup piping hot. Garnish with cooked Brussels sprouts/slaw and any of the optional toppings above. The soup freezes beautifully.

OVERINDULGING AGAIN

I've been a stalker of Food52 and all of its loveliness for a few years now.

So right now I'm going to try and be all nonchalant and whatever, people it was no big deal but OMFG I wrote a story for Food52's Halfway to Dinner series.

Here it is if you missed it: One Batch of Gremolata, Six Dinners.

I've been cooking up all kinds of craziness. Follow me on Instagram or Facebook for a daily onslaught of tarts, French toast, and martinis. Or check back in next week. I have a few more stories to tell before the end of the year.