Sometimes I just like keeping recipes to myself. Not like a secret or anything, but I just don’t feel like sharing them with all of the hundreds of millions of people who read this blog (cough). Okay, kidding. Just one million. 

But, I am sorry. I think I am keeping this meatball recipe to myself. I just like it too much. I think it could be my golden ticket to fame (another cough). I will give you a couple of hints, though. Beef chuck, pork shoulder, and pork fat back were the victims to my very sharp Cuisinart food processor blade.

Now, there is another ingredient, but if I told you, I would have to kill you.

And yes, you heard correctly: food processor. I know, I know. The ghetto-home cook- who has a meat grinder unless you own a freaking restaurant?- version of ground meat. But, it worked.

They just want to be eaten. In mass quantities. I think they are going to have many options in my kitchen. I can envision them covered in San Marzano tomatoes with melted buffalo mozzarella seeping in between them. They would go nicely with a fresh  bigoli pasta that I will steal from Tavolata and an extra anchovy, extra red pepper flake bagna cauda. But, yesterday, they went in the steaming jacuzzi of my grana and prosciutto brodo.

They join dinosaur kale, rainbow chard, napa cabbage, celery, pancetta, and some red pepper flakes. Some people call it Italian wedding soup. I think Minestra Maritata has a better ear-feel. It seems healthy enough, but of course, I took it over the top. I toasted some olive oil coated crusty bread and them rubbed it with a fresh garlic clove. And, then I took the soup, and covered it in a snow storm of grana padano. Just to take it over the top.

And, that is what I ate for dinner last night.

Ahhh! People. I have two days off. Yes. Working six days a week is not sustainable as I showed myself last Monday when I almost fell asleep standing up as I was making potato gnocchi. As I stood there, rolling little potato ball after potato ball on to the gnocchi board, I started to lose the concept of what gnocchi should look like. I have forgotten what it is like to actually enjoy a day off and not have to jam pack it with laundry, dishes, nail clipping (for the dog) and recipe experiments. Now I can check out new restaurants I have been meaning to try, and  also have another night to cook out of a new cookbook and spend quality time with Erik. And, I can actually take a nap in the middle of the day and not feel like I am wasting valuable hours to get stuff done.

I spent this entire week at Delancey. The other pantry cook was out of town, doing her very first art show, so I saw what it was like to be there for a whole restaurant-week cycle. Generally, I work two days at the beginning of the week, then ‘Stage” two days at Tavolata, then come back for the last day of the work week. But, I like being there the whole time. I could get used to it.

We started a couple of new dishes at my station which invigorated me to no end. A roasted beet salad with watercress, minced shallots, Banyuls vinaigrette, and ricotta salata and a Kumamoto oyster with a brunoise of heirloom apple and olive oil. People really seemed to like both dishes. Oh yeah, and next week, I suggested to Brandon that we could make our own ricotta salata for the beet salad. He was thrilled.

Last night, was my busiest night at Delancey. Well, at least at the beginning. Remember how I told you guys that if I ever ran my own station at Anchovies & Olives I would be drowning in a sea of yellow tickets piled all around me, desperately trying to keep my head afloat. Well, there was a moment where that potentially could have happened. But, I took a deep breath as I stared at the eleven tickets piled in front of my station. I gave myself a pep talk, pulled my head out of my ass, and started working. It took me 45 minutes. I yelled at a server that took one of my plates by mistake to another table, requiring me to stop what I was doing and make the dish again. I cut my finger on my peeler as I was shaving grana padano. Twice. But, I did it. As I pushed the last tickets to the expediting area, I yelled “clear board” for nobody but myself. It felt good.

Actually, strike that.  It felt amazing.

But the best part of the whole week, besides finally learning how to stretch the pizza dough, is that I got to clean out the refrigerator at Delancey and keep the prosciutto butts and the grana padano rinds. And you know what that means…..

Brodo.

Brodos are a staple in all Italian based cooking. Knowing how to make a brodo, or broth, was one of the first things I learned when I started working at Ethan’s restaurants. Everyone seems to have a different version, so I just came up with my own. The one I think tastes the best, yet still remains simple. I used Nate Appleman’s recipe as a base from his cookbook A-16. Ironically, A-16 is to Delancey as Giorgio Locatelli is to all of the Ethan Stowell restaurants. Sort of a bible, if you will.

Prep time: 5 minutes

Cook time: 2 hours

Makes 8 cups for each broth

*I do these broths simultaneously because they basically require the same amount of attention, and I generally take all the grana rinds and prosciutto butts home on Sunday night.

Prosciutto Brodo

8 ounces of prosciutto trimmings

1/2 carrot

1/2 large onion

1/2 stalk celery

1 tsp. fennel seeds

3 quarts of water

Grana Brodo

8 ounces grana rinds

This summer, while sitting at the dock of Matthew’s beach, one of my chef friends said to me with great excitement, “I think I have constructed the perfect hamachi dish: grapefruit, lavender, fennel-saffron puree, fennel pollen”. I looked at him, wide eyed, and asked him how many times he had tested the recipe. He looked back at me, laughed a little due to my ignorance and said, “No, Stage. It is all up here” as he pointed to his thick head of black hair. 

Then, two days ago, only the last Monday I will ever work at Tavolata, I watched as my sous chef  started writing down a recipe for braised lamb shanks with farro risotto (or “farroto” ) and pumpkin. Geez. Taking the white and yellow paper from the small printer that prints out tickets, he started listing ingredients and his method of braising. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know how to braise lamb, but I can’t guarantee that my recipe would be good enough to serve to customers in a restaurant. I guess that is why i am just a “Stage”.

Prep time: 25 minutes

Cook time: 35 minutes

Serves 4

1 16 oz. pork tenderloin

6 slices pancetta or guanciale, minced the same as your onion

1 medium onion, finely minced

1 c. arborio rice

1 c. white wine, plus the other three cups for drinking while making the dish

6 c. good quality chicken stock (homemade is preferable)

Olive oil

Grapeseed oil

1 garlic clove, slice

1/2 bunch of red chard, leaves removed from stems and chopped, stems thinly sliced

1/2 c. parmigiano reggiano

1 garlic clove, skin on and smashed

1 sprig of rosemary

2 sprigs of thyme

2 tbsp. salted butter

2 tbsp. pomegranate seeds

Kosher salt

Cracked Black pepper

Preheat your oven to 375 degrees. Take pork out to allow it to get to room temperature. Heat the chicken stock in a big pot on your back burner over low heat until small bubbles appear.

In a wide skillet, or risotto pan if you are fancy, heat up 2 tbsp. olive oil over medium-high heat. Add in pancetta and crisp it until golden. Then add in the onion, and lower heat. The onions should not get any color, but be translucent, about 5 minutes.

Add in the arborio, and toast the rice in the pancetta fat for about 1 minute. Deglaze with the white wine and let the wine completely cook off, stirring the risotto. Then add one ladle of chicken stock, stir to combine, and let the chicken stock absorb slowly into the rice. Repeat.

Meanwhile, heat another skillet over high heat with 1 tbsp. olive oil and 1 tbsp. grapeseed oil. Season the pork generously with salt. More than seems normal. When the pan start to smoke, lay the tenderloin in the pan away from you to prevent splatter. Cook the tenderloin until a carmely skin start to form on one side. Flip the tenderloin over, and immediately place it in the oven for 5 minutes.

Keep ladling your stock into the risotto when the rice has absorbed the liquid. Cook until just slightly al dente.

Get yet another small skillet and heat 1 tbsp. olive oil over medium high heat. I know, I know. Four pots on the stove. Thinly slice (or use a mandoline) one clove of garlic and let it infuse into the oil. Add the chard stems, and saute them. Season with salt and pepper. Cook for two minutes. Then add the leaves and a bit of chicken stock and toss with tongs. Cover the pot with a lid, remove from heat, and set aside.

Keep ladling your stock into the risotto.

Take the pork out of the oven. It should be firm to the touch, but not hard, and put it over a medium-high flame. Carefully, using the same hot skillet, add the butter the cracked garlic and the herbs. Tilt the pan at a 45 degree angle and starting quickly spooning the melted butter over the pork, basting it to finish the cooking. As you are ladling the butter, a foamy layer should start to form on top of the pork. crisping the skin. After about 1 minute of basting, remove the pork to let it rest.

Adjust the seasoning for your chard stems and leaves and once your risotto is cooked, add the chard mixture into the rice. Add the parmigiano reggiano and adjust for seasonings.

Thinly slice the pork. Heat two bowls in your preheated oven for about 1 minute. Ladle the risotto in a pile on the bottom, topped with the slices of pork. Drizzle the pork with a little bit of olive oil and season just the top with salt. Sprinkle with pomegranate seeds. Serve immediately.

Family meal is such an interesting topic in the restaurant world. Some restaurants do it. Some don’t. Some restaurants serve the meal before service to the entire staff, generally using leftovers from the night before and some restaurants don’t mind if you nourish yourself from the pantry, obviously, but you have to fend for yourself. But, at Anchovies & Olives, which in my heart will always be my restaurant family, we create family meal only once a week after service. And we go all out.

Now, this does not mean that each day the Chefs don’t eat before service. We do. Sometimes we use the leftovers from the homemade potato gnocchi to whip up some potato skins, or bring in a roast chicken that they serve with a fennel and arugula salad. We will order pizza from our favorite joint down the street that the hostess will pick up, or we will buy giant spicy burritos wrapped in tin foil or “street meat” from the stand on the corner. Fish and chips is also quite common.

Last night at Tavolata, where the “fend for yourself” category comes in to play, I ate a dish of polenta, pancetta, kale, and parmigiano reggiano. Which I called grits, bacon, collard greens, and cheese. <Inset southern accent> Cause y’all know I love my southern food.

As cooks, we always eat, but not necessarily sitting down at a table all together. There is generally just too much to do.

But, once a week. The chefs at A&O get to play. And, somehow. Miraculously. I have been looped into this event even after I have stopped working at the restaurant. One week it was Mexico. Tacos to be specific. But, not just any tacos. People, listen. The chefs made their own tortilla chips, hot sauces, salsas, and cooked every type of protein you could imagine to stick inside the warm corn tortillas. I about died as I crunched into chip after chip. Last week the theme was France. And, I do not know if we will ever be able to top that meal. Chicken liver mousse, steak frites, gruyere potato gratin, gougeres, french green beans with nicoise olives, pouissons, champagne. It was beyond extravagant. I kept eating well past the fullness marker in my belly. I think everyone did.

Tonight, though, we are going to Japan. And, creating a David Chang inspired meal from his new cookbook Momofuku. My task: Chawan Mushi. Luckily, the only ingredient that I had to “search” out was dashi powder. The little white powder, made of seaweed and bonito flakes, smells of miso soup and is actually the main ingredient in many Japanese broths and stocks. After you find it at a local international grocery store, it is as simple as dissolving one teaspoon in two cups of hot water. The hard part is finding it.

Tonight, I will arrive and be greeted warmly by my “family” as if I was coming home from a long hiatus. I have seen most of them the night before. I will look to the dark intimate corner of the restaurant nestled next to the kitchen, and two tables will be pushed together, with candles lit, and the table set. Chopsticks will be brought in. Sake will be poured into little espresso cups. We will all sit down: me, the closing servers, the bartender, the chefs, a couple of stragglers from our sister restaurants that have heard about the extravagant “dinner parties” we have been throwing, maybe the hostess. Most people will bring something to share the wealth. It will either be sake, bamboo rolling boards, and in my case because I can cook, I will bring Chawan Mushi.

We watch as some of the chefs roll sushi. Some finish their miso soup broths. Others toss noodles in sesame oil. I use a ceramic mandoline to slice my shiitake mushrooms and then, with a borrowed knife, I slice my green onions into thin ribbons. I plump up my lump crab meat, and place it on top of my egg custards. We each bring our dishes to the table. We sit down and talk about how amazing the food is, because, for the most part we are all food snobs, and love eating good food. Gossiping is a must, but then we get in intimate conversations with our neighbors, and relax after what has been a long week for all of us. For most, it is our “Thursday”. This family meal, excessive or reasonable,  gives us a reason to wake up the next day and push through the long hours until we get two days off.

Or in my case, one.

Prep time: 10 minutes

Cook time: 14 minutes

Chilling time: 3 hours

*Adapted from David Chang’s recipe is the Momofuku cookbook

2 teaspoons instant dashi powder (seaweed and bonito flake stock found at Uwajimaya)

2 cups warm water

3 large eggs

1/4 cup salted roasted cashews, coarsely chopped

4 ounces lump crabmeat, broken up

1 scallion, cut into fine matchsticks (2 inches)

4 small shiitake mushrooms, stemmed and caps very thinly sliced with a mandoline

In a medium bowl, whisk the dashi powder into the warm water until it is dissolved. Let the sediment settle, then pour the clear dashi into a large measuring cup leaving the sediment at the bottom; rinse out the bowl. In the same bowl, using chopsticks, very gently stir the eggs in a “z” shape until blended, without incorporating too much air. Stir in the dashi, then strain the mixture through a small strainer back into the measuring cup to catch any of the unbeaten egg.

Divide the cashews between 4 shallow 1-cup bowls. Top with the egg mixture. Carefully set the bowls in a steamer basket in one layer, set over boiling water and steam, covered, for 14 minutes or until the custards are set. You know they are set when they are not watery, but quite jiggly. Remove custards and carefully cover them in plastic wrap. Either eat warm, or immediately transfer the bowls to the refrigerator to chill for at least 3 hours or overnight.

Either way, unwrap the custards. Top with the crabmeat, scallion and shiitake and serve.

Today, I finally felt on the verge of a burn out. Yep. It finally happened to me. If I had worked today, it would have been two solid weeks without a break. That is just not healthy. While I laid in bed, tucked in my overstuffed down comforter, I texted my sous chef at Tavolata and told him that I would not be a good cook today, and I needed a break. Then I went back to bed for two more hours and dreamed that I made Pho.

I am one of those nerdy people who actually gets excited to go to the grocery store. While searching in the random places we store our reusable grocery bags, the closet, above the fridge, a drawer in the bathroom, I make a mental grocery list. I know I will continue to add to it as I push my cart around the outside of the grocery store filling my basket with almost everything I don’t need. Today it was three Chioggia beets and a pomegranate. Obviously these are not the ingredients I needed if I wanted to make Pho. I also barely ever go in the middle of the grocery store. Maybe for dog food, an impulsive vinegar purchase, or for rice noodles, as I did today.

Making pho is a simple, yet long process that basically takes control of half of your day. You can be passive, but you do have to tend to your broth, skimming scum and extra fat so that when you ladle it into your deep white bowls, you can see right through to the bottom. It should be that clear. But, if it is not, then nobody will notice when you fill your bowl with tons of long rice noodles, thinly sliced flank, and bean sprouts, Thai basil, cilantro, lime, and jalapeno chilies.

Pho to me is a comfort food. It is like Seattle’s biscuits n’ gravy or baked mac and cheese. It seems that the cloudy gray weather and Pho seem to have a natural affinity. Today was one of those days. Not day or night. Just that lingering overcast of grayness that doesn’t enable you to know the time it is or gage the temperature outside. But, ironically, these are my favorite days in Seattle.

As the pot simmers on the stove, I smell the amazing flavors of coriander, cinnamon, and star anise coming from the steam flowing out of the large pot in my kitchen. I drink a larger than normal glass of prosecco, cuddle with my puggle Cashew, and reflect on my amazing week as an employed pantry cook over at Delancey. It also helps, too, that my husband is working from home today. Even if he is on his computer, it is nice to be able to talk to someone who can actually talk back to you.

Delancey is this little gem of a restaurant. It is the third one I have worked at since June, and what I adore about it is that is is not trying to be anything but what it is- fantastic pizza. We have fun, a lot of fun, but most of my time is spent sort of alone, on the outskirts of what is going on in the dining room. I have no idea how busy it is, but I do know there is a constant wait, as I plate salads and burrata and brownies. But, as I am plating these dishes over and over again, slightly sweating because it is hot at my station, I can’t help but wish that I could start changing things up a bit. Not anything crazy, I assure you. It is just little ol’ me of course, novice and amateur.

It feels good to know that I can basically suggest any idea to my boss, and friend, and he will consider it, and let me experiment.

This week my Delancey experiment is beets. Chioggia, golden, purple. All three, even.  Oranges, a little bit of his homemade sherry vinegar, large flat-leaf parsley leaves. Maybe some creamy goat cheese. The possibilities are endless.

Just like my dream to make Pho this morning, I am living my dream of becoming a cook. Someone is paying me to represent food at their restaurant. Mind-boggling, in fact.

Prep time: 20 minutes

Cook time: 4 hours

Serves 4

*Adapted from Jaden Hair’s recipe on Steamy Kitchen

2 yellow onions, halved
4″ ginger root, halved lengthwise
5-6 lbs of good beef bones, preferably leg and knuckle
6 quarts of water
1 package of Pho Spices [1 cinnamon stick, 1 tbsp coriander seeds, 1 tbsp fennel seeds, 5 star anise, 1 cardamom pod, 6 whole cloves - in mesh bag or cheese cloth]
2 tbsp salt
1/4 cup fish sauce
1 tbsp. sugar

1 lb. cooked rice noodles, follow package instructions

1/2 lb flank steak sliced thin, against the grain
A big handful of Cilantro and Basil
2 limes, cut into wedges
2-3 serrano or jalepeno peppers, sliced
2 big handfuls of bean sprouts

Turn your broiler on high and move the rack to the highest spot. Place ginger and onions on baking sheet. Brush all over with vegetable oil. Broil on high until ginger and onions begin to char, about five minutes. Turn over and continue to char for another 5 minutes.

Fill a large pot (12-qt capacity) with cold water. Bring the water to a boil, and then add the bones, keeping the heat on high. Boil vigorously for 10 minutes. Drain, rinse the bones and rinse out the pot. Refill pot with bones and 6 qts of cold water. Bring to boil over high heat and lower to a simmer. Using a ladle or a fine mesh strainer, remove any scum that rises to the top.

Add the ginger, onion, spice packet, sugar, fish sauce, and salt and simmer uncovered for 3 hours, removing scum and skimming the top for leftover fat. Strain broth and return the broth to the pot. Taste the broth and adjust seasoning – if you want a little more flavor, add a few dashes more of fish sauce, a large pinch of salt or sugar.

Place your flank steak in the freezer for 15 minutes. Slice your flank steak against the grain. Assemble a plate of limes, bean sprouts, herbs, and cooked noodles.  Bring your broth back to a boil and line up your soup bowls next to the stove. Fill each bowl with rice noodles and raw flank slices. As soon as the broth comes back to a boil, ladle into each bowl. The hot broth will cook your raw beef slices. Serve immediately and garnish with all of the accompaniments.

The new job is three days a week: Wednesday, Thursday, and Sunday. It doesn’t conflict with my “Stage” with Ethan Stowell which I do Friday, Saturday, Monday. My total cooking time each week is tipping the scale at around sixty hours a week. You see why my husband and I spend the mornings together now? Don’t you.

The best part about this new job, though, is that I run the garde manger. The station I had been working most of the summer at Anchovies & Olives. And, it is my station. Nobody to look over my shoulder. Nobody to organize and prep my mise en place. All mine. I set it up, cook at it for a solid five hours, and I clean my mess at the end of the night. My workload for cleaning depends on how much grated cheese I sloppily get on the floor, or how many radishes ricochet off of my prep table when slicing them with the mandoline. If I don’t prep enough baby greens, then it is my fault, and I don’t have a “Stage” like me to run and fix my mistake. I will have to wash them “on the fly”.

And, can I be quite honest? I love running my own station. It feels so liberating to know that each dish is 100% mine from start to finish. But, it is a lot of responsibility, too. I got trained by this amazing woman, who basically created the station from start to finish with her beautiful, yet simple ideas behind starters and desserts. She needs to get back to writing, as we all want her to do, and I am her replacement. Three days a week.

It is beyond an honor.

Her husband is also amazing, and has greeted me with open arms. He and his sous pizzaola are going to teach me to stretch the amazing, tender pizza dough that Brandon has perfected and work the giant wood burning oven that has to be tended to like a newborn baby. But, meanwhile I stand at my own station and plate buttery burrata with pink sea salt and little olive-oil toasted baguettes, an “abundant”  baby green salad with spicy red radishes and Grana Padano and Brandon’s champagne vinaigrette, and Zoe’s coppa with pickled padron peppers. I bake off Molly’s famous chocolate chip cookies with grey sea salt, and I put cannelle-like dollops of creme fraiche whipped cream on fudgey brownies fresh out of the oven.

I am now the new pantry cook at Delancey.

There is something to be said about large, comforting breakfasts at home. But, I can count on my left hand how many times I have actually cooked breakfast. My versions consist of streaming tap water into a coffee mug and ripping open a brown package of cinnamon flavored instant oatmeal, or pulling cold skim milk out of the refrigerator and pouring it over some sort of sugary cereal.  I much prefer to wake up on a Sunday morning, roll out of bed with mascara smudged underneath my eyes, a hat on my head, and probably the clothes I wore sleeping camouflaged with a giant sweatshirt, and go here or here. These women chefs are the masters at breakfast in Seattle. And, for some reason I feel guilty drinking a mimosa at home on a weekday.

But, this morning, I even impressed myself with my breakfast making ability.

Erik woke me up so early this morning, 8:15 am, and told me I had promised to make breakfast for him the night before. I looked at him vacantly, yawning and purposely trying to forget that, yes, I actually had. He was dressed in his wool black coat, reusable grocery bag in hand. He got out his iPhone and started typing ingredients as I groggily forced myself to make a list for him.

He came back with more items than I had told him (in true Erik fashion), and a couple of incorrect versions of the produce I requested, but that wasn’t going to stop me. Large golden delicious apples, apple-wood smoked center-cut bacon, Vermont maple syrup, cold buttermilk, and local coffee beans covered my counters as I pulled out my favorite red mixing bowl and started to create.

I sliced my apples a bit thick, I had a couple of precarious flips of the crepe-like buttermilk batter, I burnt one piece of bacon, but all in all, breakfast actually turned out.

Being in my new industry, I work nights, which has been hard on me and my husband. Yes. As a ballet dancer, I also worked nights, but not every night. I performed about two weekends every six weeks. That pales in comparison to six nights a week getting home later than 10:00. So, our new thing is breakfast. Mornings filled with strong black coffee, jazz or classical music, and talking with legs intertwined on the couch. I think it is gonna work.

So, dear readers, you may be seeing more breakfasts around here. I will certainly be cooking more of them.

And, I have a new job. Yep. No more hostessing at A&O. I have my very first, part-time, paid cooking job which I start tomorrow at 2:00. Which, of course, I need to keep a bit hush-hush for now. I am still ‘staging’ for the same company, and loving it, in fact. I actually ran my own station last Saturday night at Tavolata on an incredibly busy night. It was a blast. 6:30 to 10:30 went by in a blink of an eye. Just how I like it.

I hope you too can have this lovely breakfast at home. Even on a weekday. The crepe-like pancakes are tender and foolproof. And, to be quite honest, are amazing sauteed in bacon grease. And, I won’t judge you if you have a mimosa before work.

*Adapted from a recipe in Bon Appetit October 2004 issue

Makes 12 cakes

Prep time: 10 minutes

Cook time: 15 minutes

Apples

2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) unsalted butter

3 large Golden Delicious apples (about 1 1/2 pounds), peeled, cored, cut into 1/2-inch-thick slices

1 tablespoon plus 1/2 cup pure maple syrup

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

8 slices apple-wood smoked center cut bacon

Crepe-cakes

1 cup all purpose flour

2 tablespoons (packed) golden brown sugar

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 cup buttermilk

6 oz. whole milk vanilla yogurt

1 large egg

1 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

Melt butter in large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add apples and 1 tablespoon maple syrup; sauté until apples are tender, about 5-8 minutes. Mix in remaining 1/2 cup maple syrup and cinnamon. Set aside.

At the same time, cook bacon in a non-stick preheated, dry skillet. Drain on a paper towel lined plate. Reserve bacon fat to cook pancakes in.

Meanwhile, combine first five ingredients in large bowl; whisk to blend. Whisk buttermilk, yogurt, and egg in medium bowl to blend; add to dry ingredients and stir until just blended but still lumpy. Do not overmix. This makes the batter tough. Gently mix in 1 1/2 tablespoons melted butter.

Heat griddle or large nonstick skillet over medium heat. Spread thin coating of bacon fat over griddle.  Working in batches of three, drop batter by 1/3 cupfuls onto griddle, spacing apart. Cook pancakes until brown on bottom and bubbles form on top, about 3 minutes. Turn pancakes over and cook until bottoms are brown and pancakes are barely firm to touch. Transfer to plates. Repeat with remaining batter, adding more fat to griddle as needed.

Spoon apples over pancakes. Serve with bacon on the side.

The first thing I did was order a sweet tea, which I regret because it was nothing like I remembered and within that first sip, I destroyed any special memory I had coveted in my mind. 

The week was spent learning how to sail from my Dad. A sailor since he was eighteen, I figured he would be the perfect person to give me lessons, and also a great way for us to reconnect. My favorite memories of my father were taking weekend trips with him to Smith Mountain Lake and laying in the sun on the bow of our boat. As the wind ricocheted off the sails and blew my hair and my face, I would remove myself from my the childhood anxiety that everyone goes through and I found a place to feel free and uninhibited.

I wanted to find that place again, especially after all of this transition in my life. There is nothing that can replicate being in the middle of a body of water, only the wind to push you where you want to be, and allowing yourself to just let go. I think I can actually sail a boat by myself now, but I think I will continue to practice with people who have slightly more experience than me. By next summer, I should be a pro.

I cooked for my family. Three times actually, which was more than I had expected or planned. I brought my knife bag, something I now will never travel without, and opened their eyes to this and surprisingly this, and experimented with some new recipes.

I hung out with childhood friends from Salem, watched my best friend since second grade get married, ate lots of BBQ pork and chicken, baked macaroni and cheese, overcooked green beans, overly-mayonnaised cole slaw, dry wedding cake, and drank lots of bourbon.

What I didn’t experience, which I was terribly disappointed by, was the “Virginia Fall” I had kept telling Erik about. Virginia is experiencing an indian summer, and the leaves hadn’t even changed!  One day, it was 89 degrees. I am sorry, but isn’t it October? I was waiting for the autumn colors in the foliage of gold, fuschia, auburn, bronze, burnt orange, lime, and cherry red. But, all I saw was the verdant summer colors that I had been staring at in Seattle the whole summer. Bummer.

So, the first thing I decided to do, even before unpacking my over-stuffed suitcase, was to bake some roasted squash bread. Growing up, my mom always made pumpkin bread out of the can, or zucchini bread from the overgrowth in her garden, but I have never roasted the squash myself.

And, unfortunately, I will never go back. Sorry Libby. The way it makes my house smell is way better than any leaf I will ever see in Virginia.

*I like to toast the bread and then spread room temperature butter all over it. Or, if you want to get REALLY fancy, you can pan sear the bread in butter in a large skillet. That takes it over the edge.

Makes 1 loaf

Prep time: 25 minutes

Cook time: 1 hour and 30 minutes

*Loosely adapted from here and here

1/2 sugar pie pumpkin, seeded and skin removed and chunked

1/2 butternut squash, seeded and skin removed and chunked

1 acorn squash, seeded and skin removed and chunked

Olive oil

Kosher salt

1 3/4 c. AP flour

1 tsp. baking soda

1 tsp. baking powder

1 1/2 tsp. cinnamon

1 tsp. ground ginger

1/2 tsp. freshly ground nutmeg

1/4 tsp. ground cloves

1/2 tsp. kosher salt

1/2 c. canola oil

3/4 c. brown sugar

3/4 c. vanilla sugar (sugar infused with a vanilla bean)

2 eggs, room temperature

1/3 c. water

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9X5 inch loaf pan.

On a large rimmed baking sheet, toss the chunked squash with enough olive oil to coat and an even sprinkling of salt. Roast for 30 minutes until fork tender, but not very caramelized. Cool. Place in a food processor, and blend until creamy. Set aside.

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, soda, powder, spices, and salt.

In a standing mixer, mix together the two sugars and the oil for four minutes on medium speed until well blended and sand-like. Keep scraping down the sides to make sure all of the sugars are well blended into the oil.

Add in 1 cup of the squash mixture and blend on medium speed for two minutes until thoroughly combined and smooth. Add in one egg at a time until fully combined.

Add the flour mixture in three parts, alternating with the water, and finishing with the flour until just combined. Scrape down the sides to make sure the flour mixture is fully combined with the squash mixture.

Slowly pour the batter into the loaf pan and smooth the mixture out with a rubber spatula. Cook for 45 minutes (with a convection oven) to 1 hour, until you can just smell the bread and a tooth-pick is inserted and comes out clean.

Let cool on a wire rack for a couple of minutes in the pan, and then invert the loaf and let cool for another 15 minutes.

When people ask me how old I am, I always pause and try not to say twenty-three: the year that stands in time to me as “my age”. That year, twenty-three that is, was my year of firsts: I got married on December 29, 2005, I performed my first solo and pas de deux on stage in front of 2500 people for the Pacific Northwest Ballet, we bought our first condo, and fell in love with our first dog, and I really believe I became “Kari” for the first time. 

I never thought a year would, or could, top that magical year of my life. Until now. I think twenty-seven will be the kicker. Yes, I know, I am in a crazy transition time. I quit my job to basically be unemployed and romantically try to become a chef in a kitchen that I am not qualified to work. Yet, somehow, I truly believe this year is going to be the one I have been waiting for. The one that will last in my memory and push twenty-three aside like a kindergartner trying to get the last chocolate milk in the lunch line.

I pinch myself daily. No, not just burn and cut. Pinch. Because, I truly feel like in this moment in time I am in the right place. Doing exactly what I was meant to do.

I know what I am not meant to do. Be a pastry chef. Ever. I do not have the touch. For example: I made this recipe’s crostata dough twice. Not the filling, though. I actually scooped the filling out of the first batch of ugly dough that didn’t wrap itself around the pears, honey, and thyme mixture and dumped it in a bowl to be cooled it in the refrigerator while I created a new batch of dough. I was just too lazy to make the filling again. This dessert though, is easy enough for even the most novice baker. It is almost fool proof.

Almost.

Prep time: 25 minutes

Inactive Cook time: 2 hours and 15 minutes

Cook time: 35 minutes

*Adapted from Food and Wine Magazine October 2009

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar

1/2 tsp. Kosher salt

1 1/2 sticks cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces

1/4 cup plus 3 tablespoons ice water

1 1/2 pounds seckel pears, each cored and cut into 8 wedges

5 teaspoons honey

1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice

1/4 teaspoon thyme leaves, plus small sprigs for garnish

1 egg beaten with 1 tablespoon of water

In a food processor, pulse the flour with the sugar and salt. Add the butter and pulse until it is the size of peas. Add the water; pulse until the dough comes together. Pat the dough into a disk, wrap in plastic and refrigerate for 30 minutes.

On a lightly floured surface, roll out the dough 1/8 inch thick. Cut out eight 5-inch rounds, rerolling the scraps if necessary; transfer to a parchment paper–lined baking sheet and refrigerate for 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 375°. Take out the dough to warm a bit. In a bowl, toss two-thirds of the pears with 3 teaspoons of the honey, the lemon juice, thyme leaves and a pinch of salt. Arrange the figs on the dough rounds, leaving a 1/2-inch border all around. Fold the edges over the figs and brush the dough with the egg wash. Chill for 30 minutes.

Bake the crostatas for 35 minutes, rotating halfway through baking, until the crusts are golden. Let stand for 10 minutes.

Gently toss the remaining pears with the remaining 2 teaspoons of honey. Transfer the crostatas to plates, top with the figs and thyme sprigs and serve.