Smitten Food: Pasta With Roasted Cauliflower, Chickpeas & Ricotta

The original recipe for this pasta comes from Martha Stewart's Everyday Food (and then was reposted on Serious Eats). What I love most about this dish are the roasted chickpeas, which take on a totally different (and far superior) texture and flavor than the standard ones you find on salad bars. Chickpeas (of course also known as garbanzo beans) are a great pantry staple, particularly if you want to whip up your own hummus.

I've never been a big fan of cauliflower, but this roasted stuff is really growing on me, and I think it's really delicious in this recipe. (But I still think raw cauliflower is grody.)

Anyway, I had to go to a meeting right after dinner on Monday, so I needed to make something that was fairly quick. I'm trying to take the Meatless Monday movement to heart, so I thought this recipe would be a good one when I stumbled across it.

Benjamin was a grump and a half on Monday evening when I was cooking, and I tried as best as I could to have him help me cook. Naturally, all he wanted to do was pick up the chef's knife, so I made a little station for him on the floor with a baking sheet and lots of measuring cups, spoons and random, non-stabby kitchen items. My kid's a smart cookie, though, and figured out in no time that the cups and spoons were totally lame compared to the big, shiny knife Mommy was using.

This did not set the stage for an easy, mellow family dinner, no sir-ee. But in the end, we all left the table fed and unharmed, and I got to my meeting on time without a big chunk of parsley stuck in my teeth. Success!

I was skeptical about the original recipe's use of croutons, so I omitted them (I didn't have crusty bread anyway, and I rarely go to the grocery store for just one ingredient).

The original recipe also didn't include the lemon juice, fresh oregano or Parmesan. I added them because I had them, and because the dish just needed something. I used more than just the couple tiny pinches of salt and ground pepper the original recipe called for, as well. I used whole-grain shells, which aren't specified in the EF version.

I, of course, didn't follow the instructions correctly and just plopped all the ricotta into the serving bowl and mixed it up, rather than spooning delicate little dollops on each of our bowls. I don't have time for dollops.

So here's my version. It's pretty close to the Everyday Food version, but not exactly the same.

Pasta With Roasted Cauliflower, Chickpeas & Ricotta

1/4 cup olive oil

1 head cauliflower, broken into florets

1 15-ounce can chickpeas (garbanzo beans), drained and rinsed

1 pound pasta, preferably shells (I used whole-grain)

kosher salt and fresh-ground pepper

fresh parsley and fresh oregano, chopped

lemon juice from about 1/2 a lemon

1/2 cup fresh ricotta

grated Parmesan (if desired)

Preheat oven to 450 degrees. On a baking sheet, toss cauliflower and chickpeas with half of the olive oil, kosher salt and pepper. Roast in a single layer, turning once during cooking, for about 30-35 minutes, or until chickpeas are golden and a bit crunchy and cauliflower starts to turn brown.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook pasta to package directions. Reserve some of the pasta water and then drain.

Return pasta to the pot or transfer to a large serving bowl. Add the cauliflower, chickpeas and the rest of the olive oil. Add salt and pepper to taste, and stir. Add parsley, oregano, lemon juice and ricotta, and stir to combine. Add some of the pasta water to create a creamier consistency.

Fill bowls with pasta and add a sprinkling of freshly grated Parmesan to the top of each.

Smitten Food: Smitten Kitchen's Spaghetti With Lemon & Olive Oil

I found this recipe on Smitten Kitchen, one of my favorite food blogs. It's safe to say I'm seriously smitten with Smitten Kitchen. (I know, I know, it's confusing ... two totally different sites.)

This pasta could not be simpler to make, and the freshness of its lemon and basil flavors are making me even more anxious for spring's arrival.

Lemon zest and juice, fresh basil, Parmesan cheese and spaghetti tossed in a light sauce of olive oil and cream—what's not to like?

It has all the markings of what makes a perfect dish for me these days: quick, delicious, unfussy and kid-friendly. 

Smitten Food: Baked Oatmeal With Fruit

I adore oatmeal, in any shape or form, and so does my son. But he and my niece LOVE my mom's baked oatmeal, so I decided to start making it at home. I've adapted it just a tad. You can use pretty much any fruit you like, though I think the blueberries are really key. I use organic frozen blueberries, which tend to be smaller than the regular ones, so the amounts can be adjusted according to your taste. I use frozen mango because I tend to have that on hand for smoothies, but peaches are great, too. Just be sure to keep the fruit frozen so that it doesn't get too mushy and watery while baking.

You'll love it! Make it this weekend!

Baked Oatmeal With Fruit

3 cups quick-cooking oats (not instant)

1 cup packed brown sugar

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon cinnamon

2 eggs, lightly beaten

1 cup milk

1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter, melted

1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

3/4 cup apple, peeled and diced

2/3 cup frozen blueberries

1/3 cup frozen mango or peaches

cooking spray

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Combine oats, brown sugar, baking powder, salt and cinnamon in a medium mixing bowl. In a separate large bowl, combine eggs, milk, butter and vanilla. Add dry ingredients to the wet ingredients, mixing to combine. Add the fruit to the oatmeal mixture. Coat an 8-inch square baking dish with cooking spray. Pour the oatmeal into the baking dish, and bake uncovered for about 35 minutes, or until the top is golden brown and a bit crispy on the edges.

Cut into squares (they fall apart pretty easily, as seen above), and serve with a splash of milk over each square, if desired.

Yield: 9-12 squares

Smitten Food: Butter Fail

I have not been very good about blogging. Part of it is that this month has been the busiest 30 days for me in recent memory, and part of it is that I'm going through a self-conscious phase about writing in public. Ultimately, I want all of my writing to be public — it's what I do, after all. But I'm a weird sort of writer in that if I think too long and hard about the fact that people read what I write, I get all cringey and feel sort of icky. Eh. It will pass.

A BIG freelance job has been taking up a good deal of my time, which I still feel like I need to be tight-lipped about. Part of it is that my contract stipulates that I can't reveal much information about the story before it goes to print, but part of it is that I don't want to jinx it. I just turned in a major revision of my original draft this morning, and I haven't heard from my editor yet about what she thought of it. I will say that it is the biggest opportunity of my writing life thus far, that the experience has been both exhilarating and exhausting, and that if all goes as planned, you will all need to set aside a spare five bucks at the end of February to purchase a certain women's magazine whose name rhymes with Debtor Gnomes & Pardons. That is all.

And then there is parenting and teaching. And Thanksgiving was last week. And Christmas is coming.

Of course every family has its own holiday traditions. We used to have Thanksgiving ones, but not so much anymore, save the requisite menu of turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and so on. One of my mom's sisters makes a broccoli casserole that is to die for, made even more delightful because it's everyone's favorite, has about four ingredients, and is the most labor-intensive cooking she does all year. Actually, what makes it delightful is the handfuls of shredded cheddar cheese in it and the layer of croutons on top.

My contribution was a sweet-potato dish and a dessert. I was going to bake a pie, but then I found a recipe for lemon-filled gingerbread cookies in an issue of Oprah's magazine (I never read it, but I got sucked in to her Favorite Things list), so I made those. They were delicious, but a dish isn't a dish unless I mess it up somehow. Like, oh say, by putting SIX EXTRA TABLESPOONS OF BUTTER into it.

Yes. Six. Tablespoons.

My scatterbrained self read the recipe entirely and measured everything properly, but when it came time to actually put the instructions into action, I went ahead and dumped all 18 tablespoons of butter into the bowl, instead of reserving six of them for the frosting like I was supposed to.

I mean, really. Cookies? I messed up cookies? I try to be all together about stuff like a normal grown-up, but no. I am apparently still suffering from pregnancy brain. I'm surprised I managed to even put them in the oven.

The cookies were actually pretty good, albeit a bit too Paula Deen for my Yankee sensibilities. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually think they will be better with less butter. And I looove me some butter. I will be making them again — correctly this time —  very soon, if only to prove to myself that I'm not a total flake.

Naturally, I served them anyway and told no one of my error (until now), except my husband, who graciously kept quiet and smirked right along with me when our family chowed down on them and proclaimed how good they were. Maybe they were just being polite, or maybe they were entranced by all the saturated fat. Hard to say. The cookies were definitely tasty, but every time I bit into one, I had of vision of myself pulling the cookies apart and just applying them directly to my ass. I mean, it's where they're going to go anyway, so why not cut out that pesky digestion step?

And naturally I took a picture. You'll notice they're all wonky around the edges. That's because when you make cookies with six extra tablespoons of butter, friends, they spread out all over the place and you have to then cut them apart with a spatula. Next time, I'm going to do a before and after pic. I wonder what I'll forget then. Sugar? Flour? Oh, the possibilities ...

 

… And Home Again.

Today I met my new niece, Vera Rose, for the very first time.

She was born yesterday, and so our beach vacation turned out to be a day at the beach. As I was getting B's breakfast ready at about 8:30 yesterday morning in my aunt's condo in Rehoboth Beach, I heard the chime of an incoming text message. I said to Scott, "I bet that's my mom texting me that Vera's coming today." I was right, so we packed up our stuff, loaded the car, stopped at Wawa for coffee and headed back to Pennsylvania.

I alluded to vague "family issues" in a previous post, and this is what I was referring to. Right before Mother's Day, my sister-in-law's doctors discovered what they believed (and still believe) to be a kidney disorder with Vera, and my sister-in-law has been on hospitalized bedrest since then. She and my brother have been a wreck. My parents have been a wreck. My sister has been a wreck. And I have been a wreck, too.

I have not written about this, and a lot of friends don't know anything about this. This happened to our family two years ago with my first niece, Mileva, and the outcome was devastating. She had a kidney disorder, too, and she died. The idea of this happening again has been surreal and horrifying.

This is the first time I have written about this after all these weeks. I have written about food and my son and trips to the beach, but inside all has not been tra la la and farmers' markets. Inside has been anger and confusion and frustration and honest-to-God fear. But if I actually typed the words, if they were out there for other people to read, then it was really happening. I wasn't ready to type those words. And they weren't really my words to share. A blog with boundaries: What a novel concept.

Less than an hour after we got on the road yesterday, I got this text from my mother: "She's here. 5 lbs 10 ozs. Was crying. She's going to NICU now."

Then this: "And she's beautiful."

All day yesterday, I couldn't decide how to feel. In a normal situation, a birth automatically means joy. For me, I felt gratitude and happiness, but I didn't allow myself to feel unhindered joy. There were so many positives: She's breathing on her own, she's eating, she's a good size. There are still so many tests that have yet to be performed, I thought, so many questions that have yet to be answered.

But I allowed joy to come today when I saw her, snugly swaddled in her bassinet, sleeping soundly amidst all the beeps and blips and bustle of the NICU. Her bed was across the room from where her sister's bed had been. I heard her cry, I stuck out my finger for her to slip her fingers around, and I held her, which I never had the opportunity to do with her sister. And, yes, she was beautiful.

Last night, after a long trip in the car, after I put my son to bed, after I awaited more news on Vera's condition, I felt the need to cook something. We had very little food in the house because we were planning on being away for several days. I gave our CSA share to my sister and her boyfriend. I wanted pasta, which I knew we had. Pasta is comfort food for me. Pasta always makes me feel the way I did when I was a kid traveling in the car with my family during a rainstorm: safe, cozy, protected.

I found a can of tuna packed in olive oil, a can of peeled whole tomatoes and a can of cannellini beans. I boiled water for the pasta, and then poured some olive oil into a skillet. I chopped some garlic and onion and sauteed them in the olive oil. I added the tomatoes and broke them up with a wooden spoon, letting it all cook for a while to get rid of the tomatoes' tinny flavor. I added the beans, drained and rinsed, followed by the tuna. I threw in a few pinches of kosher salt and fresh-ground pepper and then added some fresh basil and Italian parsley from the garden. I drizzled more olive oil over the top, and then I mounded it on top of spaghetti and grated fresh Parmesan over it.

The resulting pantry-cleaner of a dish was surprisingly good and very satisfying. The sauce was stewy in texture and consistency, and between the beans, tuna and whole-wheat pasta, it was really filling. I poured a drink, and Scott and I ate outside at our hail-pocked wooden bistro table on our deck. And after we finished, I baked chocolate-chip cookies (more on those later).

I recently finished Molly Wizenberg's wonderful book "A Homemade Life," which I absolutely loved. She's the creator of the food blog Orangette, which I just die for every time I read it. She associates food with memories and events and people and emotions so well. Last night, I think I was subconsciously inspired by her to cook something that was easy and quick yet made me think of family and home and made me feel pleasantly fulfilled and cozy. I wanted to lie on the couch and read magazines and just escape for a while. I'm glad I thought better of it.