MangiaMore: zucchini LASAGNA

RER 6.30.16

Because I am currently a lady of leisure—school’s out for summer— I have been given a charge, a responsibility, a duty: I must make dinner for my family at least once a week (emphasis on “at least”).  I am not going to say it is an honor, or even a pleasure, but it sure will be an adventure, experience, experiment, whatever you want to call it.

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RER 6.30.16

If you can’t tell by my blog and the foods that I make, I would call myself more of a baker than a cook. They say baking is a science, whereas cooking comes from passion and the soul. When baking a chocolate cake or whipping up some zucchini bread or even rolling out some bomb sugar cookies, there is an element of precision to the creation of these confections. Too much of something and not enough of something else can cause your dessert to fall flat. Must. Measure. Everything. But don’t get me wrong; there is plenty of room for creativity in baking. There is combining of flavors and playing with textures, the gamut.

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RER 6.30.16

Cooking, at times, has looser guidelines—a pinch of salt, a clove of garlic, pepper to taste, a pad of butter. It is about how the sauce smells when it is simmering on the stovetop, or how the eggs feel when scrambled in butter, or the give of the meat swimming in its juices. A little bit of this, and a touch of that, and some more of this, one more taste. Cooking might just take that intuition that I lack. If intuition is a part of human biology, then perhaps, cooking is science too.

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To start my weekly endeavors, I found a tasty-looking Tasty recipe on Buzzfeed for some zucchini lasagna. I watched the Tasty (not to be confused with tasty) video over and over. As my sister would say, “my body was ready.” I was ready to make this noodle-less lasagna, but I was more ready to eat it.

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Luckily, despite a stiff neck and a self-diagnosed strained thoracolumbar fascia, the recipe was pretty easy to bring to fruition. I measured everything, down to the salt, pepper, and olive oil but added a tiny flair of my own to the dish: red pepper flakes and mozzarella cheese. I was willing to sacrifice noodles, but not mozzarella cheese (nota bene: not all lasagna must have pasta, but all lasagna must have mozzarella). Using a vegetable peeler to make the zoodles was a chore, but delightfully destructive. Even though mozzarella was lacking from the recipe, I was happy to see that the ricotta was flavored with goodies rather than plopped right from the plastic container. A little salt goes a long way. Definitely.

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The results: a happy Mommie (because she did not have to cook), satisfied bellies, and one week of my cooking penance down. Stay tuned for my weekly, my at least weekly installments of dinner dishes.

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6.30.16

RER 6.30.16

SPRING has sprung: Vai Restaurant

RER 4.17.16

We have been teased with sunshine and warm weather, and even oppressive intense heat. On those pleasant sunny Sundays, New York City streets are flooded with revelers, soaking up the sun and inhaling the first tastes of spring. Brunch culture flourishes as windows open to the rising temperatures, sun filters in spaces, and outdoor seating becomes a must.

With the change in the season comes a change in the brunch menu at Vai Restaurant. With the expertise of Chef/Owner Vincent Chirico, the small upper west side Mediterranean-inspired restaurant celebrates the season with the freshest ingredients that sing spring with euphonious and delicious melodies.

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Chef Chirico presents fleshy bright delicate Muscat grapes, fragrant Thai basil, salty cured meat, and voluptuous burrata in a chilled appetizer, and satin soft fingerling potatoes piled with succulent and perfect charred octopus with just enough heat to compete with spring weather in a warm appetizer.

Textures play tag in a sumptuous hamachi crudo, decorated with silky avocado and grapefruit gems ready to burst at the touch, while deep green asparagus and velvet pink fat-lined meat nestle runny bright yellow egg yolk and wide briny flakes of cheese.  

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A shallow bowl of pearlescent white polenta supports a plump poached egg hidden beneath earth tones of ramps and mushrooms, laced with large chips of cheese.

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And dessert is just as smooth and fresh, light but decadent with an ombre of chocolate and just enough sweetness to end.

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Each of these offer a taste of spring amongst the other dishes featured on the menu. Not only is spring highlighted in the seasonal ingredients that are featured on the brunch menu and brunch prix fixe, but also the textures and aesthetic of the dishes bring to mind that whimsical playfulness and flirty feeling of the season.

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5.2016

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MangiaMore: lightened HUMMINGBIRD cake

RER 3.27.16

I generally equate coconut cake with Easter. In fact, there has been the rare occasion that I have eaten coconut cake outside of Easter or that I did not enjoy coconut cake on Easter. The two just go together in my mind—like peanut butter and jelly would, if I could eat it. Cake and holiday meld to one (but not really).

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This Easter, however, was one of those rare occasions when coconut cake was not devoured on the holiday. This year was a little different. Why? Who knows? Perhaps, spring break sprung and there was so much to do, or a newish job caused sharp ups and downs, or downtime is the new norm. Perhaps, we have all been more wary of sweets and what we eat (by all, I mean everyone in my family except for me). Have no fear; cake was still involved.

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Hummingbird cake has been a hot topic here for the last couple weeks or so—something about a yoga teacher needing the southern specialty for her mother’s birthday. The anecdote sparked interest and a Google search (or two), and eventually, led me to make a lighter version Hummingbird cake for Easter.

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At first, I was alarmed by the quantity and the diversity of the fruits that come together to compose this cake. A lighter version means less oil and more fruits (more banana and applesauce). Sure, I have had banana bread and banana cake, I have made applesauce cake, and I am mildly familiar with pineapple upside-down cake. But all three—together— sounded nuts.

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That is until I ate my first slice. Banana is the only really prevalent flavor in the layers of not-so-sweet cake. It is not intense, but round and full, reminiscent of the banana bread I am familiar with. The applesauce vanishes into pure moisture, holding the dense cake together. And the pineapple pieces are only discernible when encountered, but the studs are sweet and tangy, like the scrumptious cream cheese frosting blanketing the cake. This recipe was a breeze (once the bananas were ripe enough—we put the bananas in a brown paper bag with a super ripe avocado) and definitely an easy classic.

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3.27.16