Milanese Risotto

As you may remember, our last day in Milan left Mike and I tired, chilled to the bone, and incredibly hungry. Walking around the city under a grey, rainy sky, we searched for something - anything resembling nourishment of some sort. By the late afternoon, defeated, we set back to our hotel in attempts to silence our growling stomachs with multiple cups of tea. Mike quietly flipped through our guidebook as I watched the local news, pretending to understand the reporter’s rapid-fire Italian. “I think I found a place that might be open for dinner,” Mike said. We exchanged glances - doubtful glances, since almost every restaurant on our list had been shuttered, closed for business, or simply not at the listed address.

Regardless, we set out again in the rain, as dusk encompassed the city. Down the twisting streets, we finally spotted the glow of a neon sign through the dark, the only promise of life on an otherwise abandoned street. “This is it!” Mike said and we both held our breath in silent prayer as I attempted to open the door.

The door opened into the scene of an old-Italian restaurant, complete with red-checkered table cloths and Italian waiters dressed in suits from a bygone era. We were only the second table in the restaurant, the other group also tourists, translating the Italian menu into Chinese. But our waiter was incredibly sweet, bringing us bread almost before Mike had finished explaining we had not eaten all day. He delivered a bottle of his favorite red wine, saving us the inevitable moment of playing eenie-meenie-miney-mo on the wine list. We asked for his favorite dishes, to which he replied, “Any! My mother is in the kitchen, she’ll take care of you.” And lo and behold, as soon as our orders were placed, our waiter disappeared into the kitchen and as the door swung shut he exclaimed “Mamma! Tortellini, risotto, lamb!”

This hole-in-the-wall restaurant, denoted only by a fading neon sign, was hands-down the best food we ate in Milan; the Milanese risotto was exactly the cure we needed to remove the chill in our bones. And by the time we finished our meal and wine, the restaurant was packed with the local regulars who traded Sunday supper at home for our waiter’s mother’s cooking.

Snap Pea, Prosciutto & Walnut Fettuccine

A heavy rainstorm blew through the city a few days ago, rolling the summer humidity right up into it’s rain clouds before heading out to the Atlantic.  Stepping outside the next morning felt as though the ceiling of gray summer haze had been lifted and the maze of streets and buildings were suddenly nestled beneath a beautiful, blue sky.  Harried commuters lifted their heads a bit higher, breathing in the cool morning dew and enjoying every minute of a breezy commute to work.

I so adore this weather and know it will all too soon make way for the short days and long nights of a frigid winter.  In the coming weeks, apples, pears and squash will fill the farmer’s market to the brim, but this transformation is just beginning and the last of summer’s bounty hangs on tightly despite the temperature change.

This simple pasta highlights the transition from sweltering summer days to cozy fall nights, pairing summer’s fresh, green snap peas alongside the hearty, toasty flavors of walnuts and whole wheat pasta.  In my household, good-quality prosciutto and Parmigiano-Reggiano are always in season and lend a beautiful texture and balanced saltiness to this dish.

Red Beet Risotto

A few weeks ago, as the 6 o’clock hour approached I faced the familiar issue of not having any semblance of a dinner plan. I began mentally going through the items in our refrigerator – trying to find inspiration from a potential mishmash of leftovers or vegetables yet to be used. I suddenly remembered a bunch of deep red beets, carefully washed and stemmed after a summer farmer’s market visit and yet to be consumed.

While there are endless possibilities of how I could have prepared the ruby root vegetables for our dinner, an overwhelming desire for something creamy and comforting snuck into my plans for the beets. Risotto. Best of all, everything I needed to create this dish was already stocked in our tiny kitchen and make-shift pantry. No after-work grocery store trip required.

It seems like such a silly decision now – planning to make red beet risotto for dinner while comfortably sitting in my air-conditioned office. The summer heat and fact that our kitchen is never actually cooled by the air conditioning did not enter into my thought process. It wasn’t until after I had slowly melted the butter, sautéed the onions and drenched the translucent onion strands in white wine when I realized I had 25 minutes of continual stirring staring right in my face. Continually stirring with no air flow on a ninety degree night in a pre-war apartment where the summer humidity sits heavy in the old, cement walls.

But still – despite the heat and sweating and cursing my boneheaded oversight – this is one of my new favorite recipes. The beets not only lend a beautiful red hue, but also offer a lighter, summery taste to an otherwise heavy dish.

Homemade Chicken Stock

At the beginning of the year, I started thinking about the store-bought ingredients I use on a daily basis in my cooking and baking. I focused particularly on the items consuming a large chuck of my grocery bill and brainstormed ways to reduce their cost. For some items, the solution was simply to buy less to ensure minimal waste.

But this solution was not entirely feasible when it came to an ingredient like chicken stock. During the cold winter months, I enjoy throwing together soups and stews a few times each week, sometimes requiring a total of four quarts of chicken stock. At $3.50 a quart, store-bought stock consumed a noticeable portion of my grocery bill, so I decided to try my hand at making a homemade version.

Now on Sunday mornings, I roast a small chicken, then tear the juicy meat from the bones, reserving the meat for upcoming weeknight meals. I place the bones and drippings in my grandfather’s dutch-oven, throw in a few vegetables and seasonings, and the stock simmers away with the afternoon hours. As you might imagine, the flavor of a homemade stock is unmatched, meaning I stretch my stock to last throughout the week, effectively eliminating the cost associated with purchasing store-bought versions.

Winter Chicken Noodle Soup

The remnants of the crippling Christmas snowstorm are still visible here in New York City. The dirty snow drifts slowly melt into the crowded sidewalks, littered with uncollected mountains of trash. As I write, fluffy snowflakes fall steadily outside the living room window. Media outlets are vying to see if the city implements lessons learned from last week’s accumulation. Mike just departed for work, looking especially handsome in his new snow boots and cozy flannel shirt.

And yet this impending snow storm provides a feeling of excitement, the same feeling a child receives on a snow day from school. Once both parties safely return home from work, there is something incredibly romantic about a snowed-in weekend. We stocked our groceries, ran any pressing errands, and now have nowhere to go, nowhere to be for the next two days. We have shelves lined with books, a fancy new Scrabble board, and an endless supply of Mike’s recently bottled hard apple cider.

Such cozy weekends beg for a hearty soup, one with an ability to warm you down to your tippy toes. One of my favorite choices is chicken noodle soup, but the usual bowl can sometimes taste a bit thin. Keeping the classic components of the soup in mind, I created a one-pot version, ensuring every morsel of taste and flavor infuses the resulting soup. The roasting chicken creates the initial layer of flavor, later deglazed with a healthy dose of chardonnay, and eventually the soft, caramelized vegetables drown in flavorful chicken stock.

Butternut Squash Soup with Cream & Spiced Nuts

Today, as most Americans are recovering from a massive food hangover, I will be preparing and serving a traditional Thanksgiving dinner.

With the help of my good friend Victoria, and a glass of wine or three, we will serve an entire turkey dinner from my closet-sized kitchen, equipped with two gas burners and a counter top oven.

The key to ensuring this dinner goes off without a hitch has been major planning and plenty of advance prep work. Anything and everything that could be made in advance is sitting, neatly labeled in my half-sized refrigerator.

This soup whipped up beautifully a few days before our actual feast. The recipe yielded more soup than I expected, so I simply froze half for the bitter winter days ahead.

To elevate the soup just a bit for serving, I will add a drizzle of heavy cream and a pinch of spiced nuts, which conveniently can also be made ahead of time.

Now that I am armed with a beautiful appetizer, I can focus my attention on more important matters, like praying the brining bag does not explode all over the refrigerator.