kale and chevre pesto.

After a few days of false springtime, we're back to woolly layers and high winds. So this evening, for a cozy dinner, I made this simple recipe that I noticed on 101 Cookbooks back in the fall. It couldn't be much easier; plus, it's a great basil-pesto alternative as well as a wonderful option for using kale. I made very few changes to the original here: adjusted the oil, added a little lemon zest, topped with pine nuts; I might also add a handful of pine nuts to the sauce before pureeing it next time, just for fun. Accompanied by a few slices of baguette and followed by a rich stout (excellent choice, J.), this kept the chill away.

[And, let's be honest, I was looking an excuse to break out my brand new pasta bowls! I just retired the plates I bought for my senior year dorm apartment and made the switch to all-white dinnerware. Glorious. These bowls are restaurant-sized - in other words, so huge that they fit in neither my cabinets nor my dishwasher. I love them.]


Kale and Chevre Pesto
from 101 Cookbooks

4 cloves of garlic, peeled and trimmed
2 large or 4 small shallots, peeled and trimmed
1 small bunch of kale (1/2 lb. or 8 oz.), stalks removed, washed well
1/4 c. olive oil (*the original calls for 1/3 c. - I liked a slightly thicker consistency)
1/3 c. (2 oz.) chevre
~2 tbsp. cooking water
lemon zest/juice
fresh thyme

1. Bring large pot of water to boil. Salt generously, then add garlic and shallots. Boil for 2-3 mins., then stir in kale and cook for another 10 secs. (Don't overcook!) Quickly fish the kale, garlic, and shallots out of the water and into food processor.

2. Puree the kale mixture and chevre, then with motor running, add oil and water (1 tbsp. at a time, to thin the sauce if necessary). Season with salt and pepper and the zest of 1/2 a lemon, if you wish. (I liked this for brightening the flavor. The original recommends a squeeze of lemon juice, which works too.)

3. Cook pasta according to instructions, then drain and toss with sauce. Add a few pinches of fresh thyme (about 4 stalks, stripped) and a sprinkling of pine nuts to serve.

Serves 4-6.

ginger pear upside-down cake.

I bookmarked this recipe so long ago that I can't remember how I got to it; originally from the Macrina Bakery & Café Cookbook, this cake is delicious.

Darkly sweet from the molasses and brown sugar, it's rich without being cloying - the perfect complement to the cinnamon and pears on top. I had just one problem with this recipe: overflow. The instructions said that the pan would be full, which it definitely was. About 15 minutes into baking, I started to smell burnt molasses and raced into the kitchen to find cake batter spilling over into my oven. Oops. I slid a baking sheet onto the lower rack, opened my windows, and followed my practiced routine of standing on the arm of my chair and fanning vigorously with the Illustrated Blake in front of my smoke detector. Next time, I'll just leave out some of the batter to save my oven and to avoid chipping away at this to get it out of the pan:


I also managed, while I was peeling the ginger, to flip it out of my hands - it ricocheted off the wall and shot under the oven. (Not to worry, I didn't try to retrieve and reuse it.) This was a very eventful baking experience, but I'm already looking forward to having this cake again!

Ginger Pear Upside-Down Cake
originally from Macrina Bakery & Café Cookbook, via Seattlest, via who-knows-where, adapted slightly

Topping:
2 tbsp. butter, room temp.
1/3 c. brown sugar
1 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
4 med. ripe pears, peeled, cored, and cut into sixths

Batter:
2 sticks unsalted butter, room temp.
1/2 c. brown sugar
2 tbsp. peeled, grated ginger
3 large eggs
2/3 c. molasses
3 c. unbleached all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1 1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1 1/2 c. buttermilk


1. Preheat oven to 325F. Butter a 9" springform pan and line the bottom with a circle of parchment paper.

2. Make topping: combine 2 tbsp. butter, 1/3 c. brown sugar, and cinnamon in small saucepan. Cook over med. heat for about a minute, then pour into springform pan and spread evenly over parchment. Arrange pears in circles as tightly as possible. (I cut a few extras in half and used them to fill in the center.)

3. Make batter: cut butter into pieces and cream with brown sugar on med. speed for 3-5 mins. Add grated ginger and beat 1 min. more, then scrape down sides. Add eggs one at a time, beating on low speed until combined. Slowly pour in molasses and beat until fully incorporated.

4. In separate bowl, combine dry ingredients. Alternately add flour mixture and buttermilk to batter in increments, beginning and ending with flour. Do not overmix. Scrape down bowl and stir gently with rubber spatula, then pour carefully into prepared pan.

5. Bake for 1 h 45 mins., until knife comes out clean. Let cool for 10 mins. on wire rack, then cover top with upside-down plate, release sides, and flip cake onto plate. Lift away base, peel off parchment, and let cool for 30 mins. Serve warm or at room temp.

dress(er)ing up the kitchen.

Friends, for the first time in two and a half years, I have ...

a SILVERWARE DRAWER.

That's right. Actually, the drawer is only part of my new-and-improved kitchen space. You see, my first kitchen, in Brookline, was rather cozy. That's ok, I thought; surely this will be the smallest kitchen I'll ever have. Nope. Somehow, I managed to downsize into a kitchen that isn't even its own room (it runs along a wall) and whose only counterspace is that on top of the dishwasher. Few cabinets. No drawers. There is room, thankfully, for a large industrial metal rack that houses the majority of my kitchen supplies, but that has been at capacity for a while and does nothing to provide prep space. Argh.

After months of creatively - and often precariously - balancing mixing bowls on the corner of the sink, plunking hot trays of cookies down on a trivet in the middle of the floor, and rolling out pie crusts on my coffee table, I snapped. Though the kitchen is tiny, the whole living room is in fact relatively spacious, and I had a large expanse of empty floor going unused. (Except as, you know, cookie-cooling space.) So I started to hunt for a dresser that would serve as a sort of island and give me some storage and work space; I figured that I would find a basic bedroom dresser, slap a coat of paint on it, and quickly have a not-perfect-but-workable solution. Hardly surprisingly, however, I became, well, very invested in this project. Last October, I found this dresser at a local used furniture shop:


Perfect! Made for a kitchen, cabinets as well as drawers, solid as could be, and cheaper than anything at IKEA. Sold. Plus, I love a project.

Thus began about two solid months of sanding, applying wood putty, and sanding some more. (Extremely therapeutic, as a side benefit.) The dresser, while exactly what I was looking for in terms of size and lines, wasn't in great shape and had a chipped paint job (the original, I think) accented by gloppy gold paint.


After I sanded the whole thing down and smoothed it out, I was ready to paint. (I had the whole dresser propped up on bricks to make the process easier.) I wanted a pop of color that didn't take over the room, so I chose this leafy green (Behr Ultra "Mojito"), with "Milk" for the carved accents. I chose a latex-based paint-and-primer-in-one, so three coats later, I had a green dresser. I did the accents mostly by hand (after the tedium of taping got to me) with an artists' brush, followed by a wet paper towel. Boy, was THAT a lot of fun.


I loved the original hardware, so I went through a bottle of Brasso cleaning it up, while still retaining the vintage patina. One of the cabinet pulls was missing, though, so after a fruitless hunt for a matching vintage piece, I found two close-enough-to-blend knobs at Home Depot and replaced both.


Since I didn't want to lose anything over the back of the dresser, I had a piece of basic baseboard molding cut to its length, painted it, and screwed it onto the back. (Me holding a 63" strip of molding in place with a hip, a screw in one hand and an electric drill in the other, must have been a graceful sight.) I think it works quite nicely. Then I coated the whole dresser with Polycrilic, a latex-based polyurethane (not as messy or smelly as oil-based), so the paint wouldn't get tacky and peel off.


With some colorful little numbered jars (holding Maldon salt, kosher salt, sea salt, and table salt - ahh, the organizational pleasure) and a gorgeous big cutting board from my brother (thanks, Ry!), the dresser was complete. In addition to the silverware drawer, I really like my new spice drawer: it has built-in dividers and so seemed perfect for that purpose. AND I have counterspace. And more storage space. And a convenient place for people to gather around while I'm cooking. Whee!


And now, onto the next project...