As a teenager, I spent what felt like entire summers babysitting for the kids across the street. There were three of them, aged 4-10, and they were a handful. But they also had a pool and they paid well, so it was a good job all in all. The kids used to love eating pastina, basically tiny little pasta stars, with masses of butter and that shakeable powdered parmesan cheese. I rarely had to cook anything for them (their mom was a great cook and there was always tons of food in their house), but I made pastina once or twice. It was perfect comfort food for kids, no spice, all warmth and simplicity.

Fast forward 15 years. Trevor and I just started a major kitchen renovation (!) and the house is full of dust. It’s still cold and snowy, and it’s that time of year where you’re just on the edge of being sick all the time. We’re ready for spring and it’s not here yet. Comfort food is in order pretty much every day. A few weeks back (before the renovation started!), in this late winter state of being, I was staring forlornly inside the fridge, hoping for inspiration to strike from a handful of leftovers. I was in a bad mood. I was tired. And there was really very little in the fridge since we’d been proactively cleaning it out. So I dumped half a container of homemade kitchen stock in a pot and boiled some Israeli couscous in it. I added a huge amount of freshly grated parmesan cheese and some cracked black pepper. I plopped it unceremoniously in a bowl and took a bite. And it turned out to be the most perfect thing – creamy, savory, comforting, cheesy – and just like pastina with butter, but all grown-up.

I’ve finessed this recipe a little bit to share with you, but it really is very simple. Use the best chicken stock you can as that’s where all the flavor comes from. Don’t be shy with the parmesan or the pepper or the parsley. Your reward for 10 minutes of effort will be a bowl of super delicious pasta to get you through these last few weeks of winter.

Israeli Couscous “Pastina”

A super simple, super comforting pasta, rich with the flavors of chicken broth and parmesan cheese.

• Author: Katie at the Kitchen Door

Ingredients

• 2 cups high quality chicken stock, preferably homemade
• 1 cup Israeli couscous (also sold as pearled couscous)
• 3/4 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
• Freshly ground black pepper
• 1/4 cup minced fresh parsley

Instructions

1. Add the chicken stock to a small saucepan and bring just to a boil. As soon as it reaches a boil, add the Israeli couscous (don’t wait as your stock will evaporate and there won’t be enough left to fully cook the couscous). Let stock return to a simmer. Simmer the couscous, stirring occasionally, until the couscous is tender and the chicken stock has been almost completely absorbed, about 7 to 8 minutes.
2. Remove the pan from the heat. Don’t drain it – the couscous will continue to absorb the stock, and it should have a slightly loose, creamy texture. Add the 3/4 cup of grated parmesan cheese, a generous amount of black pepper, and the chopped parsley. Stir until the cheese has melted into the couscous. Serve immediately, topped with additional parmesan and black pepper if desired.

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All wedding pictures in this post are by our very talented photographers, The Spragues. These photos cannot be used without their permission.

Almost a year later, I have finally managed to sit down and write about our wedding. It was largely a DIY affair, brought to life by many, many helping hands. We celebrated with a small group of 40 people – just immediate family and close friends – at my parents’ house in Maine, where Trevor and I have been going together since high school. Insanely, wonderfully, my parents built a barn on the hill above our house to host our reception. By hand. I know, we are incredibly spoiled. It took many weekends of labor to bring the boat barn to fruition, but in some ways building the barn was the part of the wedding I loved most of all. Working alongside both sets of parents to build a structure to house our friends and family felt purposeful and unifying. And walking up the hill that day to see the barn filled with our handmade oak farm tables, tables covered in copper vases and pink flowers, candles and string lights filling the whole space with warmth… it was so incredibly beautiful. I don’t really have a photo that adequately captures the magic of that space, but these come close.

I don’t remember the day in that much detail, but what sticks with me the strongest is our ceremony. Standing under the pine trees clinging to Trevor’s arm, my brother welcoming our friends, my mother standing at my side, and the teary-eyed faces of so many of the people that I love staring back at me, I felt a truly powerful surge of love and wonder. We spent the weeks leading up to the wedding writing our ceremony, which was difficult, but important: when we stood up there, we knew exactly what we were saying and why. My brother officiated, and standing in the basement in a bit of a panic moments before the ceremony, hearing my friends laugh as he stood up there joking with the crowd was truly what calmed me enough to get myself out the door.

And then, we were off. People stood in clusters on the lawn drinking white wine and playing lawn games, or sat on the dock watching the light change over the lake. As the sun started to set we were seated at the long farm tables and the toasts began, making me cry, for the first time that day. Then we ate, and laughed, and talked, and it felt exactly like the wonderful dinner party we were envisioning.

After dinner, the evening devolved, as we had hoped it would, into tequila shots and dancing barefoot on the lawn, friends sneaking off into the woods and out on the canoe, sitting around the campfire and eating s’mores. This is less a memory and more a blur of mental snapshots. Immediately after the wedding I felt devastated by the fact that I couldn’t remember each moment, but a year later, I’ll take the happy blur. Happy blur is what we were going for, after all.

As for the details, for those of you who get into this kind of thing: the ceremony benches were planks of white oak milled from trees on the property. The tables, too, were made by hand and painstakingly finished to showcase the beautiful wood. I did the flowers myself, with the help of my bridesmaids, using homegrown dahlias, garden roses, astilbe, eucalyptus and hypericum. Plus cosmos, Queen Anne’s lace, and leucothoe borrowed from a neighbor’s garden two days before the wedding when it turned out one of the flower companies I had ordered from was a scam. Those missing flowers were the only near disaster of the whole DIY affair, and the day was promptly saved by my incredible friend Veronika, who bought all the roses at Wholefoods before she left Boston, and several generous neighbors. Cosmos and Queen Anne’s lace have a special place in my garden now.

And, since this is a food blog, the menu: for the happy hour, ceviche, buttermilk fried chicken bites in a waffle cone, and sliders (at the bride’s insistence!) with blue cheese and candied bacon. Dinner was family style, and heaping platters of espresso-rubbed flank steak, lemon rosemary roasted chicken, sweet corn succotash, and smoked gouda mashed potatoes made their way up and down the length of each table. We skipped the cake and instead went for mini pumpkin cheesecakes, blueberry pies, and banoffee parfaits. Everything was incredible and our caterers, Bar Harbor Catering Company, did a truly fantastic job. Not only was the food delicious but the event planning and coordination that they provided was just really game changing. Last but far from least, The Spragues captured everything perfectly, while somehow managing to seamlessly  join our guests in the party.

Beyond these pictures and memories, I have one more thing to share with you: our signature cocktail recipe. We wanted something that was autumnal without being overly cozy, to suit that in-between season of mid-September in Maine. We ended up with the Liquid Ditty: bourbon, dry hard cider from Bantam, Calvados, and honey-sage syrup. (An aside, Trevor and I just engaged in a rigorous debate about what to name this cocktail. A search on “Golden Apple” led us down a Wikipedia rabbit hole through Greek mythology to recently discovered dwarf planets. “Apple of Discord” was deemed unfit for a wedding cocktail, and I couldn’t convince him that “Apple of Bliss-chord” was hilarious. We considered “The Spitz,” named after the Esopus Spitzenburg apple tree in our front yard., but ultimately, we’ve settled on the “Liquid Ditty.” It’s a reference to Poe’s poem “The Bells,” which Trevor strongly associates with our wedding day. Plus, it’s catchy. Alternate name suggestions still welcome.) Nearly a year later, I’ve mixed up another batch to drink on the porch with Trevor. It’s just as delicious as I remember it – crisp and appley with just a hint of sage. We’ll be drinking these all September.

The Liquid Ditty: Bourbon, Calvados, and Cider Cocktail

A crisp and refreshing cocktail for the season in between summer and fall. Hard cider, Bourbon, Calvados, and honey-sage syrup come together for a chilled autumnal sipper. We came up with this drink to celebrate our wedding and now it’s a September favorite.

A Katie at the Kitchen Door original recipe.

• Author: Katie at the Kitchen Door

Ingredients

For the honey-sage syrup:

• 1/2 cup water
• 1/2 cup honey
• 15 leaves fresh sage, roughly chopped

For each cocktail:

• 1 part Calvados
• 2 part Bourbon
• 1 part honey-sage syrup
• 1 part chilled hard dry cider, such as Bantam Wunderkind
• 1 sage leaf, for garnish
• ice

Instructions

For the honey-sage syrup:

Bring all ingredients to a simmer. Let simmer for 3-5 minutes, until sage is bright green and syrup is foamy. Remove from heat and let steep for 10 minutes.

For each cocktail:

Stir together Calvados, honey-sage syrup, and Bourbon to combine. Pour over ice in an old-fashioned glass. Top off with cider, garnish with a sage leaf, and serve.

The post Our Wedding // Liquid Ditty Cocktail appeared first on Katie at the Kitchen Door.

Every year in the middle of July there’s a spike of traffic on my red currant posts – these red currant crumb bars are particularly popular. And I get so excited, because it means that there are other people out there who like these beautiful berries as much as I do! We get a bumper crop of red currants every year around the second week of July: they are easily the most productive, easiest crop in our little garden. We transplanted one small bush 3 years ago when we moved in, and this year we picked almost four pounds of currants from it.

Four pounds of currants is quite a few. Thankfully, they freeze very well. But I also try to come up with at least one new red currant recipe every year. Judging by the search traffic on my other red currant recipes and your comments on this post, I can tell that lots of you are still wondering what to do with these sour little berries. And it’s a good question! There aren’t a ton of recipes out there, as these berries are still relatively uncommon in the US.

This year I made an easy Red Currant Coffee Cake to use up some of our bounty. Coffee cake is such a great American recipe. Of course, like most American things, it originated somewhere else – Germany in this case. But 150 years on, I think it’s fair to say that there’s a distinct American tradition of coffee cake that has evolved from its German roots. There’s something so satisfying about a crumbly-topped, cinnamon-scented slice of cake eaten with a mug of tea or coffee. It isn’t dainty like British tea-time snacks, it’s unapologetically just… cake for breakfast. And when packed with red currants, it has a great sour, juicy tang to counter some of that over-the-top sweetness.

I managed to cram two cups of berries into one cake (making cake for breakfast feel almost virtuous) but we still have loads of currants to use up. If you’re in the same boat and looking for more inspiration, why not try out some of my other red currant recipes, below!

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More Red Currant Recipes…

Red Currant Crème Brûlée

Red Currant Coffee Cake

A simple Red Currant Coffee Cake – moist cake, sweet crumb topping, crammed full of sour red currant berries.

Cake recipe adapted from Cranberry Vanilla Coffee Cake, originally sourced from Gourmet.

• Author: katieatthekitchendoor
• Prep Time: 30
• Cook Time: 50
• Total Time: 1 hour 20 minutes
• Yield: 8-10

Ingredients

For the cake:

• 2 cups flour
• 2 tsp baking powder
• Pinch salt
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 stick softened butter
• 2 eggs
• 1/2 cup whole milk
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 2 cups (12 oz.) fresh red currants, tossed with 2 tsp flour

For the streusel:

• 3 TBS butter, room temperature
• 3 TBS brown sugar
• 3 TBS white sugar
• 1/4 cup flour
• 1/4 tsp ground cinnamon

Instructions

1. Make the cake: Preheat the oven to 375F. Butter and lightly flour a 9 inch cake pan or springform pan. Tap any excess flour out over the sink. Set prepared pan aside.
2. Whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt in a medium bowl. Set aside.
3. Add the softened butter and the sugar to the bowl of a mixer and beat on medium until light and fluffy. Beat in the eggs one at a time, beating just until they are incorporated, then stopping the mixer. Add half of the flour mixture to the butter-sugar-egg batter and beat just until incorporated. Now add the milk and beat on low just until incorporated. Add the remaining half of the flour mixture and beat until incorporated. Remove the bowl from the mixer – you’ll do the rest by hand.
4. Stir in the vanilla extract until it is evenly mixed into the batter. Add the flour-coated currants (the light flour coating helps prevent them from sinking when mixed into the cake) and gently stir until they are evenly distributed throughout the batter. Use a spatula to scrape the batter into the prepared cake pan. Smooth out gently so the batter is level.
5. Make the streusel: In a small bowl, use your fingers to mix together the butter, brown sugar, sugar, flour, and cinnamon until it forms a crumbly mixture with pieces the size of peas. Sprinkle over the top of the cake batter.
6. Bake the cake: Transfer the cake to the pre-heated oven and bake until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean and the top of the cake is golden brown, about 50-60 minutes. Remove from oven. Let cool for 15 minutes, then remove from the pan, slice, and serve warm.

The post Red Currant Coffee Cake appeared first on Katie at the Kitchen Door.

I just spent the loveliest six weeks at home. It’s the first time this year that I’ve been home for more than a few weeks at a stretch and boy did I need it. I leaned hard in to the rhythms of being home: cooking dinner, evening runs, couch time with Trevor, grocery shopping, sleeping in, long yoga sessions, learning a new sonata on the piano. I have always been a creature of habit and a bit of a homebody – a few weeks of chill is a type of bliss for me. Travel makes the pleasures of being home that much sweeter.

Since getting home, I turned 29. Trevor turned 29. I got my first pair of glasses, and was amazed by the clarity of trees in the distance, and of our TV. The fruit trees bloomed and faded in a whirlwind few days. Our garden turned from a patch of dirt with a handful of lonely daffodils into a plot bursting with green potential. The first rose opened, and the irises are brilliant in full bloom. Every day we get a few perfectly ripe strawberries – whatever the pesky robin doesn’t get overnight. We had a rainy mother’s day brunch by the fire that turned into a brilliantly sunny walk in the woods an hour later. My best friend from high school got married in the Boston Public Library on a chilly grey day filled with love and champagne. It’s a beautiful time of year to be in Boston and I’m so grateful to be home for it!

For each of our birthdays I made a cake. For mine, a vanilla sponge with strawberry jam and strawberry buttercream. For Trevor, an earl grey sponge with honey-fig buttercream. Both cakes disappeared without a problem, but Trevor’s earl grey cake was truly special. Pretty cakes are not my strong suit (a buttercream expert I am not) but this tasted so good that I covered it up with fresh figs and flowers and snapped a few pictures so I could share it with you. I can’t take credit for either recipe component, only the combination. The earl grey cake is from Liv for Cake and the Italian meringue fig buttercream is from Sticky Spatula. I struggled a bit with the buttercream splitting after a night in the fridge, but the flavor was beautiful and paired perfectly with the cake. If you have a special occasion coming up that calls for subtle flavors and a bit of refinement, I highly recommend this cake!

Earl Grey Cake with Honey-Fig Buttercream

A beautifully-flavored and moist Earl Grey Cake topped with an Italian Meringue Buttercream flavored with fig jam. Elegant and refined for a celebration. This makes a 3-tier, 6-inch cake.

Cake recipe adapted from Liv for Cake. Frosting recipe adapted from Sticky Spatula.

• Author: Katie at the Kitchen Door

Ingredients

For the cake:

• 1 cup whole milk
• 4 bags of early grey tea, divided
• 1 1/2 sticks salted butter, at room temperature
• 1 1/2 cups sugar
• 3 large eggs, at room temperature
• 1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract
• 2 1/4 cups AP flour
• 2 tsp baking powder
• 1/2 tsp sea salt

For the buttercream frosting:

• 1/2 lb. ripe figs
• 1 1/4 cup granulated sugar, divided
• 4 TBS honey
• 3 egg whites at room temperature
• 1/4 cup water
• 1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter, at room temperature
• 1/2 tsp vanilla extract

For decorating:

• 6 fresh figs
• honey

Instructions

For the cake:

1. Microwave the milk on high until steaming, about 60-90 seconds. Add three of the earl grey teabags to the milk and let steep for 10 minutes. Remove the teabags, pressing any extra milk out of them with a spoon. and discard the teabags. Set earl grey milk aside, allowing it to come to room temperature.
2. Add the butter and the sugar to a mixer and beat with a paddle attachment on medium until it is pale, creamy and very smooth, about 2 minutes. Turn off. Add one egg and beat on low just until the egg is incorporated. Repeat with the remaining eggs, one at a time. Scrape the sides of the bowl with a spatula as needed to ensure that all the ingredients are being evenly mixed.
3. In a medium bowl, whisk togther the flour, baking powder and sea salt. Cut open the remaining earl grey tea bag and pour the tea into the flour mixture. (If the tea is in very large pieces, pulse it in a coffee grinder before adding to the flour). Whisk to combine.
4. Add 1/3 of the flour mixture to the batter and beat on low just to incorporate, about 30 seconds. Add 1/2 of the earl grey milk and beat just to incorporate, another 30 seconds. Repeat twice more, ending with the final 1/3 of the flour mixture. You should have a smooth, spreadable batter without any lumps.
5. Preheat the oven to 350F. Butter the bottom and sides of three, 6-inch cake tins. Cut a round of parchment paper to fit into the bottom of each tin and use this to line the bottom of the each tin. Divide the cake batter between the tree tins, using a spatula to evenly smooth the batter out. Batter should fill a little more than half-way up each tin. Bake the cakes in the preheated oven for 40-50 minutes. They are done when the cake surface springs back when lightly pushed down, and a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean. Remove from the oven and let cool for 10 minutes, then run a knife around the inside of each cake tin and invert to release the cake. Let cakes cool completely on a cooling rack before frosting.

For the frosting:

1. Wash and quarter the figs, removing and discarding any remaining stems. Place in a saucepan with 1/2 cup of the sugar and the honey. Gently mash the figs with a wooden spoon. Bring to a simmer over medium heat. Simmer, stirring often, until the figs are soft and jammy, about 15 minutes. Strain the jam through a mesh strainer, setting the thinner jelly aside to add to the frosting. Save any remaining fig chunks for another purprose (or just eat them!).
2. Place the remaining 3/4 cup of sugar in a saucepan. Add the 1/4 cup water and stir to fully moisten the sugar, taking care not to get sugar water on the sides of the pan (which may cause the syrup to crystallize). Bring the sugar water to a boil over a medium-high heat. Clip a candy thermometer to the side of the pan and bring the sugar to 240F. As soon as it reaches this temperature, turn off the heat.
3. Add the egg whites to the bowl of a mixer. Beat on high until they are white and frothy and form soft peaks. At this stage, continue beating while very slowly and carefully drizzling the hot sugar syrup down the side of the bowl into the egg whites. Pour in a thin stream until you have used all the sugar syrup up – egg whites should be glossy and hold stiff peaks.
4. Continue beating the egg whites on medium speed until it is room temperature with no warmth felt through the bowl. At this stage, begin adding the butter 1 TBS at a time. Butter should incorporate into the frosting smoothly. Once all the butter is incorporated and the frosting is smooth and glossy, add the fig jelly to the buttercream and beat until incorporated. If you’re having trouble with the buttercream, try reading some of the tips in this article.

For assembly:

1. If necessary, use a serrated knife to cut any domed top off of each cake so that both the top and bottom of each cake is flat. Use a dab of frosting to stick the bottom layer cake to a cake stand. Smooth a thick layer of buttercream on top of the bottom layer of cake, then top with the next layer of cake. Repeat until you have three layers of cake with two layers of buttercream between them.
2. Smooth a thin layer of buttercream all around the cake. If the cake is crumbling into the frosting, pause here and refrigerate the cake for 30 minutes to set the crumb coat, then continue frosting so that you have a smooth, thick layer of buttercream on all sides of the cake. Top with fresh figs, sliced in half, and a drizzle of honey.

The post Earl Grey Cake with Honey-Fig Buttercream appeared first on Katie at the Kitchen Door.

The first three months of the year have been a total whirlwind. Since the last time I checked in, I’ve spent two weeks in Hong Kong, a week and a half in Singapore, and a few days in Thailand. And in the brief in between times back in the US, I left home again for weekend trips to Austin, Nashville, and Montreal. So despite the snowy remnants of the last few March Nor’easters, I’m relishing a few quiet weeks at home. I’m planning the garden and reading and cooking and just generally doing the small things that make me happiest. And it means I have the chance to blog for the first time since January!

Generally, I quite like the food in Asia. Particularly so in Hong Kong and Singapore, where you can find pretty much any type of food you want. It helps that Hong Kongers and Singaporeans are obsessed with food so everything meets a minimum standard of good. But after two weeks on the road, lots of Chinese and Thai and room-service gets heavy. When I hit that point, I turn to Vietnamese for brightness and fresh vegetables. Compared to the cuisines of neighboring countries, Vietnamese food is light and refreshing. Lots of mint, basil, cilantro, and pickled vegetables bring a greenness that I really crave when traveling.

One of my go-to orders is bún, a rice noodle salad with several options for customization. I like it best with grilled lemongrass beef and a mass of pickled carrots. After my last trip I attempted making it at home, and it was surprisingly easy to make a convincing replica of my favorite restaurant versions. I love the slightly floral sweetness that the lemongrass lends to the beef, and the contrast the hot beef provides to the cool noodles and vegetables. Bún is good pretty much any time of year, but it’s particularly refreshing when the weather is hot and swampy. So, why make it in March? Brightness. I realize we’re pretty far from days that qualify as “hot,” but I’m so, so ready to eat bright-tasting things in March. This fits the bill perfectly!

Bún Bò Xào – Vietnamese Rice Noodle Salad with Lemongrass Beef

A quick and refreshing Vietnamese rice noodle salad named Bún Bò Xào. Stir-fried lemongrass beef, pickled carrots, and sweet-salty nuoc cham sauce bring tons of flavor to this bright dinner.

Adapted from Vietnamese Home Cooking.

• Author: Katie at the Kitchen Door
• Yield: 4

Ingredients

For the Lemongrass Beef:

• 2 stalks fresh lemongrass
• 5 cloves garlic
• 1 TBS sugar
• 1 tsp sea salt
• 1 TBS soy sauce
• 1 TBS sesame oil
• 2 TBS canola oil
• 1 lb thinly sliced flank steak

For the pickled carrots:

• 2 large carrots, peeled
• 1/3 cup distilled white vinegar
• 1/3 cup sugar
• 1/3 cup water
• 1 whole star anise

For the nuoc cham:

• 1/4 cup fish sauce
• 3 TBS sugar
• 1/3 cup warm water
• 3 TBS white vinegar
• 1 Thai chile, stemmed and finely minced
• 1 clove garlic, peeled and finely minced

For the bowls and assembly:

• 10 oz. dried rice vermicelli noodles
• 1 TBS canola oil
• One bunch of fresh mint, leaves picked off and washed
• 1/2 cup chopped peanuts, toasted in a dry pan for 3–4 minutes

Instructions

1. To make the beef marinade: Remove and discard the outer layer of each piece of lemongrass. Trim about 3-inches of the dry, stick-like part of the lemongrass from the top so that you are left with the plumper, white interior. Slice this interior into small coins, and then finely chop those coins until evenly minced. Place minced lemongrass in a medium bowl. Peel and mince the garlic and add to the bowl with the lemongrass. Add the sugar, salt, soy sauce, sesame oil and canola oil to the bowl and stir to combine. Add the sliced flank steak and stir to coat with the marinade. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 4 hours.
2. To make the pickled carrots: Use a julienne peeler to shred the carrots into long, noodle-like strips. If you don’t have a julienne peeler, carefully chop the carrots into long, thin match-sticks. Place the carrots in a heatproof bowl. Add the vinegar, sugar, water, and star anise to a small saucepan. Bring to a simmer over medium heat, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Simmer just for 30 seconds, then pour the hot liquid over the carrots. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate until ready to use, at least an hour. Discard the star anise before serving.
3. To make the nuoc cham: Place all of the ingredients in a medium bowl. Stir until the sugar is dissolved. Taste and adjust seasoning if desired.
4. To finish and assemble the bowls: Cook the rice noodles according to the package directions. Drain and rinse.
5. Just before serving, cook the beef. Heat the canola oil in a large, heavy-bottomed frying pan over medium-high heat. When the pan is hot, add the marinated beef to the pan in batches (each batch of beef should easily fit in the pan in a single layer). Cook the beef for 1-2 minutes on each side, until deeply caramelized on the outside but just tender in the center. Remove to a plate and continue until you have cooked all the beef.
6. To serve, fill each bowl halfway with rice noodles. Top with a quarter of the pickled carrots, several pieces of the cooked beef, a small handful of fresh mint leaves, and 2 tablespoons of chopped peanuts. Serve the bowls with the nuoc cham sauce on the side, so that each person can dress their bowl according to taste.

Notes

If you pickle the carrots at the same time that you marinate the beef, this will only take about 20 minutes to finish up before serving.

The post Bún Bò Xào – Vietnamese Rice Noodle Salad with Lemongrass Beef appeared first on Katie at the Kitchen Door.

Although I’m a bit later than usual this year, my annual year-end post is one of my favorite things to write each year. I love reading other people’s posts, too, even people I don’t know personally. I like reflecting on how much growth and change and activity a single year can hold. It gives me perspective. But, if you’re not a big fan of this sort of thing, or of lengthy personal blog posts, skip on down to the end. There’s a recipe for a kale, golden raisin, and kabocha squash pasta that’s been getting me through this cold snap. I’ve made it four or five times to get the balance just right, and now it’s become my go-to winter pasta.

For those of you sticking with me for the long haul, let’s talk about 2017. For me, 2017 was the year of the wedding, first and foremost. After that, there was travel – but less of it than 2016 and 2015 and more of it for fun than for work. It was a year of great and easy friendships, of growing beautiful flowers, of work weekends in Maine. It was a good year, perhaps not a great year, but a good one.

The big thing – our wedding

Of course, we knew before the year even started that 2017 would be the year of the wedding. It dominated the whole year. Our wedding day turned out more beautiful than we had imagined, but it was a huge amount of work to get there. We had our wedding at my parent’s house in Maine, and it was very much a from-scratch affair. We built the barn by hand (and by we I mean mostly my parents), which was an enormous undertaking. We had gorgeous hand-made farm tables milled from trees on the property. I did my own flowers, and grew half of them. (As an aside, 2017 was 100% a year of flowers for me. I fell in love with flower gardening and arranging and I can’t wait to get my seeds started in the spring.) Every aspect of the wedding was personal and lovely, but it was so much work. I’m really glad we got married and had our closest friends and family there by our sides, and I’m really glad we’re not doing it again.

Twenty-eight countries and counting

Trevor and I kicked off the year with five weeks in Portugal, an incredible escape from the cold and dark of January in Boston. Of course, I was working the whole time, but we still got to explore on weekends and immerse ourselves in the wonderful Portuguese culture. I leave a little part of my heart everywhere I travel, but I left a big piece in Portugal. I miss the food and the wine, the lonely sounds of fado in tiny clubs, the white light reflecting off the cobblestones. I miss the café culture and the gentle winter sunshine. I miss the people, my coworkers and friends, who opened their hearts to us so easily. I miss the language, which I still practice almost daily, in hopes that I’ll need it again. I’m glad that we’re staying put this winter, after relocating for January and February in the past two years, but it was a wonderful experience to live in Lisbon.

In July, I took a long-anticipated trip to Iceland with three of my best girlfriends. It was a short trip – just five days – but absolutely packed. Iceland was stunning and wild, exceeding my already high expectations. It was also wonderful (if very tiring) to travel with friends, something I hadn’t done before beyond short weekend trips in the states. I already can’t wait to return to Iceland and continue exploring. And in November, we made a Thanksgiving trip to Colorado and Utah to visit my extended family. The sun was life-giving, and we were outside hiking in the beautiful desert every day.

And then of course, there was our honeymoon. We were gone three full weeks, making our way up the Croatian coastline, driving through the Slovenian alps, then wrapping up with a city break in Prague. It was an epic trip. It was also so nice to just be with Trevor for three weeks and… hang out. Of course we were exploring and adventuring but we were also just being us, something I had missed in the chaos leading up to the wedding. I’ll write about our trip properly someday, but for now, I’ll just mention the highlights. There was a sunset bike ride through the sleepy hill-top olive groves in Korcula, followed by an unforgettable candlelit dinner under pomegranate trees. We spent an afternoon drinking champagne and watching the sun slowly sink over the Adriatic at a seaside bar where you could climb down into the ocean at any point. We hiked up through the emerald gorges in Slovenia, following a wooden sign with a piece of cheese on it, until we reached a beautiful alpine valley with two houses, one of which did, indeed, serve us some cheese. We designed our own brewery tour in Prague, sampling the best of the Czech Republic’s beer scene. We fit so much into three weeks – it will be a hard trip to top.

For other work travel, there was one follow-up trip to Portugal in April, for my birthday in fact. Never have I received so many hugs on a single day. A July trip to Hong Kong and Singapore registers as barely a blip on my mental calendar of the year, although it was my first time in Singapore. I’ll be back to both countries in a few weeks, and I’m excited to escape the cold (and for the food! Always the food). Then just a few weeks ago, a December trip to a small town in Northern Ireland followed by two days in Dublin. I love Ireland for so many reasons but this trip was a blur, especially getting home just three days before Christmas. Overall, work travel felt much more manageable this year – hopefully I can carry that through into 2018.

The best people

I’m not particularly quick to make new friends – I’ve always done better with a small group of people I’m really close to. But after 6 years living in Boston, I have such a solid crew, many of them high school friends who have moved back to the area. They are all good, smart people who are easy to be with, and some of my best memories of this year were with them. A lazy August Sunday spent tubing down the Saco river was a highlight, as was a weekend at a friend’s Maine island cottage, complete with hours of wine-laced Molkky, a candlelit lobster dinner, the poetry reading that his father mandates, beautiful sailing, and a late night bonfire dance party. And, I almost forgot, our 10 year Andover reunion. I imagine most people don’t look forward to their high school reunions as much as we do. It was a blissful weekend full of super impressive people, an all day kickball lawn party (complete with kegs), midnight dancing, and collapsing on the lawn in fits of giggles around 2am. Sunday we couldn’t move, because we’re old now, but it was worth it. Add to this the many other dinner parties, bar nights, one epic scavenger hunt birthday party and a casual NYE game night turned dance party to close out the year, and it sums up to a year of really good playtime with really good friends.

Working and blogging and growing

I feel a huge amount of relief going into 2018 with an understanding of what I want this blog to be. I spent the first half of 2017 listening to blogging podcasts ad nauseam, investing in a new design and a mailing list and SEO plugins. I thought a lot about my content and who I wanted it to reach, and I pored over my analytics to understand how I could grow. Basically, I hustled. It was stressful and frustrating and overwhelming. And then somewhere in the middle of all that hustle I realized that I don’t want to blog as a business-owner. That’s not why I started, and that’s not what brings me joy. I have a stable, compelling career that I love and it’s not blogging – so why should I turn blogging into work when it doesn’t need to be? I want to create beautiful content and delicious recipes and tell stories as long as it feels like a hobby and not a chore. Of course, it’s nice when a hobby has financial perks, but making business success the goal of blogging took all the fun out of it. Realizing this has been so helpful.

On the flip side of this blogging decisions lies my real work. Although I went through a similar questioning phase about what I wanted my next career move to be, I came out the other side with the realization that I really like my job. I’m going into 2018 in a new role, with a team and multiple projects to manage, and I’m excited. I have a lot to learn but I work in a team with the smartest, best people, which makes all the learning and growing easier.

Now for 2018

I’ve been reflecting this week about how open 2018 feels. It’s a wonderful feeling. Of course, we have things planned – weddings to attend and house projects and a few trips with friends already on our calendar. But largely, the year feels full of potential, untethered to major life milestones. I’m excited to see where it takes us, what new opportunities and adventures it will bring. My intentions for 2018 are to bring a sense of calm into every day, to spend as much time as I can outside in nature, to prioritize my health, and to learn and grow.

Winter Pasta

And if you made it through all of that… I’m impressed. I’m guessing even my mother will skim this one. So now, what most of you are here for, a recipe for a delicious winter pasta. A few year’s back I read a magazine article about how you should always be finishing your pasta in the pan with the sauce and a splash of the pasta cooking water, and it has totally changed the way I cook pasta. It’s such a simple trick and it makes a huge difference. Since reading that article, I’ve been experimenting with what I think of as “perfect seasonal pastas.” I test them over and over again until they are just right, foolproof, and full of seasonal ingredients. So far I have a summer pasta, with heirloom yellow tomatoes and sweet onions, a creamy mushroom spaghetti that is irresistible in the fall, and a spring carbonara with ramps and meyer lemon zest. Over the past 5 or 6 weeks I’ve been testing what I’ve come to think of as my winter pasta, and I’m ready to share it. This pasta has tuscan kale and shallots slow-cooked in white wine, plump golden raisins, a hint of chile, and sweet roasted kabocha squash. It is hearty and wintery without being overly heavy or creamy. It’s on weekly rotation in our house and I hope it will be in yours, too.

Happy 2018 to all of you!

Past New Years’ posts…

2016: Feta and Onion Phyllo Pie
2015: Brown-Butter Chestnut Waffles with Poached Pears and Mascarpone
2014: Rye Blini, Smoked Salmon Dip, Russian Beet Dip, Pretty in Pink Cocktail
2013: Raspberry Sherbet Champagne Floats
2012: Butter-Roasted Cinnamon Chicken with Almonds and Pomegranates

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Winter Pasta with Slow-Cooked Kale, Kabocha Squash, and Golden Raisins

A seasonal winter pasta with slow-cooked Tuscan kale, roasted kabocha squash and golden raisins. Satisfying and warming without being heavy.

Inspired by Sunday Suppers at Lucques.

• Author: Katie at the Kitchen Door
• Yield: 2-3

Ingredients

• 1/2 small kabocha squash, peeled, seeded, and cut into 1/2 inch cubes
• 5 TBS olive oil, divided
• sea salt and black pepper to taste
• 4 shallots, peeled and thinly sliced
• 4 cloves garlic, peeled and thinly sliced
• 1 sprig fresh rosemary, needles finely chopped
• 1 chile de arbol, broken in half (or 1/4 tsp red pepper flakes)
• 1 bunch Tuscan kale, center ribs removed, torn into bite-sized pieces
• 1/2 cup white wine
• 1/4 cup golden raisins
• 1/2 lb. orechiette pasta (or other similar shape)
• 1/2 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese

Instructions

1. Preheat the oven to 400F. Toss the cubed squash with 2 TBS of olive oil and spread out on a rimmed baking sheet. Season with sea salt and black pepper. Roast in the preheated oven until tender, about 25-30 minutes. Flip the squash cubes over halfway through cooking.
2. Bring a large pot of salted water to boil.
3. Heat 1 of the remaining tablespoons of olive oil in a large saute pan over medium-low heat. Add the sliced shallots, sliced garlic, chopped rosemary, and the chile de arbol to the pan. Saute until the shallots are soft and golden brown, about 5 minutes. Add the kale along with the remaining 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Season with sea salt. Cook the kale in the olive oil for 3-4 minutes, stirring frequently, then add the wine and the raisins to the pan. As soon as you add the wine, stir to scrape any burnt bits off the bottom of the pan.
4. Cook the kale over low heat for about 10 minutes. After 10 minutes, add the pasta to the boiling water. Continue cooking the kale while the pasta cooks. When the pasta is just barely al dente, use a skimmer to add the pasta to the pan with the kale. Add a few splashes of the pasta cooking water to the pan as well, along with the grated parmesan cheese. Add the roasted squash to the pan. Cook everything together for 2-3 minutes, stirring to fully coat the pasta in the sauce and to evenly distribute the vegetables. Serve immediately.

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It’s one of those gray December days that makes me feel like cozying up on the couch with a blanket and a cup of hot chocolate. I know that it’s too warm for snow, but it looks like it could start flurrying any minute. It’s early enough in the season that I don’t mind. It still feels festive to stay inside by the Christmas tree, or even to bundle up and walk through the neighborhood at dusk, looking at everyone’s lights (and, let’s be real, the plethora of horribly tacky but also endearing Christmas inflatables in our neighborhood).

It’s also the perfect sort of day for slow cooking. It will be dark by 4pm, at which point we’ll start thinking about dinner and wonder what we have that we can pop in the oven. That’s what this short rib recipe is for. It’s for days when you have hours to while away indoors, when you crave something rich and tender, when you want an excuse to open a nice bottle of red wine before 5. This is your excuse – you’ll need a cup or two of wine to braise the short ribs. This is also your excuse to stay put while the short ribs roast, filling your house with the savory scent of beef slumping into red wine.

These short ribs are classic but wonderful. If you do a little research, you’ll find that most short rib recipes out in the world are fairly similar, with only minor tweaks in the order of operations and a secret ingredient here or there. You could argue that this means the recipe is ripe for innovation, or you could just take what’s been tried and tested by the world’s greatest chefs and go with it. This version is most closely inspired by Sunday Suppers at Lucques, my favorite cookbook. I go through periods when I can’t seem to cook from any other book, as I’ve mentioned before. It also takes a few cues from this Daniel recipe. Whichever recipe you use, the tricks I’ve picked up for great short ribs are as follows. One, season generously.  Two, brown until caramelized, not just grayish-brown. Three, set aside at least 3 hours cooking time and don’t be tempted to take the ribs out before they are super tender. Four, refrigerate overnight before serving in order to skim and discard as much fat as you can.

I had originally planned on doing a follow-up post as well – a short rib grilled cheese sandwich. They offer a similar sandwich, on rich challah bread, at Tatte. We made the sandwiches but, shockingly, they were too rich for me. It turned out I had met my match when it comes to how much richness you can squeeze into one bite. So I’ll save the short rib grilled cheese for another day, when I’ve cracked that recipe. For now, I hope these delicious red wine-braised beef short ribs will warm up your kitchen this winter.

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More winter braises…

Tunisian Lamb-and-Eggplant Stew with Farro and Harissa

Braised Lamb Shanks with Blue Cheese Polenta

French Beef Stew with Red Wine

Classic Red Wine-Braised Beef Short Ribs

Classic beef short ribs, braised in red wine for hours until meltingly tender. Best served over creamy mashed potatoes, potato gnocchi, or buttered egg noodles.

Adapted from Sunday Suppers at Lucques and Daniel (via Serious Eats)

• Author: Katie at the Kitchen Door

Ingredients

• 4 bone-in short ribs, about 10-12 oz each (3 lbs. total)
• 1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
• 1/2 tsp coarse sea salt
• 1 TBS fresh thyme leaves
• 1 TBS olive oil
• 1 onion, peeled and finely chopped
• 2 carrots, peeled and finely chopped
• 2 stalks of celery, finely chopped
• 5 cloves garlic, peeled and finely chopped
• 2 whole bay leaves
• 2 cups full-bodied red wine, such as Cabernet Sauvignon
• 1/2 cup port wine
• 3 TBS saba or aged balsamic vinegar
• 3 cups beef broth
• 1 bunch fresh parsley

Instructions

1. Preheat the oven to 325F.
2. Pat the short ribs day and sprinkle the pepper, sea salt, and thyme leaves on top of them. Rub the seasoning in to fully coat the short ribs on all sides. Heat the olive oil in a dutch oven or medium heat, then add the short ribs to the pan (do this in batches if they don’t fit in a single layer). Brown the short ribs on all sides, about 2-3 minutes per side, until a nice, caramelized brown crust has formed on the exterior of the ribs. Remove the browned short ribs to a plate.
3. Drain the rendered fat from the pan, reserving only 1 TBS of fat in the pan. Return the pan to the heat and lower the heat to medium-low. Add the chopped onions, carrots, celery, garlic and bay leaves to the pan. Saute until the vegetables are tender and translucent, about 5-7 minutes.
4. Add the red wine, port wine and balsamic vinegar to the pan with the vegetables. Bring to a simmer and scrape up any browned bits stuck to the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon. Simmer the wine until it has reduce by one third, which should take 5-8 minutes.
5. Add the beef broth to the reduced wine and stir to combine, then place the short ribs back in the pan. They should fit snugly in the pan and be just barely covered by the liquid. Tuck the parsley in to the pan around the side of the ribs. Cover with a lid and transfer to the preheated oven. Roast the short ribs for 2 1/2 to 3 1/2 hours, checking every 30-45 minutes and turning the ribs over in the pan at least once. When finished, the ribs should be completely tender, such that you can easily pull the meat apart with a fork. Remove them from the oven and let cool for 20 minutes. For best results, cover and transfer them to the fridge overnight before serving.
6. When ready to serve, remove the ribs from the fridge. Skim off and discard the hard white fat on top of the dish (there will likely be a lot of this). Preheat the oven to 400F, and return the ribs, uncovered, to the oven for 15-20 minutes – this is to both reheat the ribs and to gently brown the exterior. Before serving, ladle the sauce and vegetables out of the pan and strain through a fine mesh strainer. Discard the vegetables. Serve the ribs on mashed potatoes, gnocchi, or buttered egg noodles, topped with the strained sauce.

The post Classic Red Wine-Braised Beef Short Ribs appeared first on Katie at the Kitchen Door.

It has taken me so long to write about the time we spent in Hong Kong last winter. I’m not entirely sure why. Perhaps because we were there for long enough to feel like it wasn’t a trip, so there’s no clear narrative, but not long enough to make it feel routine. I’m not sure how best to structure our stories and experiences to share with you, but at the end, it’s probably best to just start writing.

We had a wonderful time in Hong Kong, and I’d go back in a heartbeat. Hong Kong is this vibrant, slightly chaotic, proud, country full of contrasts. It is at times loud and bustling and wonderfully modern and at times ancient and mystical and steeped in tradition. Pristine luxury shopping malls smelling of expensive perfume bump up against Buddhist temples filled with incense smoke. Michelin stars are awarded to French tasting menus and hole-in-the-wall dim sum joints. You can spend $30 on a cocktail or $2 for a bowl of noodles, and both will be delicious. The iconic skyscrapers packed together in Central fade suddenly and without warning into green mountains, blanketed with hiking trails.

A friend who visited several months after we’d left told me afterwards “I wasn’t expecting it to be so Chinese.” And he’s right. The international image of Hong Kong is of a massive, modern, high-tech city, full of expats and expensive clothes and big business. And it is that, in parts, but it’s also old, and pungent, and a little run-down, and very traditional. The international glitz is fun, but for us, the real draw was outside of the glamorous neighborhoods: the hole-in-the-wall dumpling restaurants and the sleepy seaside island towns. In five weeks we barely scratched the surface – for a small country there’s a lot to explore.

Hong Kong is a food-lover’s dream travel destination. Everything is good, and you can find pretty much anything, for a price. There’s an amazing hipster coffee scene (if you’re willing to spend $7 on a latte), 61 Michelin-starred restaurants (more than London and Chicago and Madrid), wet markets where you can buy any meat or seafood you can think of, and incredible local Cantonese cuisine. I tried things I never thought I would – abalone and shark fin and literal birds’ nests – and had some of the most memorable meals of my life.

When we got back from Asia I wrote down all the recipes I wanted to eventually share here – noodles and dumplings and soups. The other night I was reading through that list and when I got to “Shanghai Noodles with Pork, Mushrooms, and Cabbage” I had the most visceral food memory. Those noodles – fat as a pencil and utterly slurpable and chewy and coated in an addictive, salty-sweet brown sauce – were unbelievable. I struggled to recreate them at home – that sauce! Those fat noodles! – but after several rounds of trial-and-error I finally have a reasonable approximation.

The first recipe I tried wasn’t saucy enough and the second was far too salty. I ended up ditching the pork because it wasn’t adding anything, and experimenting with my own sauce. Ideally I would use thick fresh egg noodles but I couldn’t find any, so I made do with fresh udon. Now that I know how to make them, these are actually very easy. Once you have the sauce ingredients, you could whip them up on a weeknight with no problem.

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Shanghai Noodles with Mushrooms and Cabbage

Thick, eggy Shanghai Noodles covered in a slurpable, sweet-salty sauce and stir-fried with mushrooms and cabbage. Inspired by an extended trip to Hong Kong.

Adapted loosely from The Daring Gourmet, with sauce inspiration from BBC Good Food. 

• Author: Katie at the Kitchen Door
• Yield: 4-6

Ingredients

• 4 TBS dark soy sauce (don’t substitute regular soy sauce!)
• 2 TBS peanut butter
• 2 TBS honey
• 1 TBS sugar
• 2 TBS rice wine vinegar
• 1 tsp hot sauce
• 2 TBS plus 2 tsp sesame oil, divided
• 1 TBS fish sauce
• 1/2 cup chicken stock
• 2 tsp cornstarch
• 1 TBS canola oil
• 2 portobello mushroom cups, cleaned and cut into 1/4 inch thick slices
• 1/2 lb shiitake mushrooms, stems removed, caps cut into thin slices
• sea salt
• 5 cups shredded napa cabbage
• 4 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
• 3/4 lb. thick fresh egg noodles or fresh udon noodles
• 2 fresh scallions, chopped, for garnish

Instructions

1. In a medium bowl, combine dark soy sauce, peanut butter, honey, sugar, rice wine vinegar, hot sauce, 2 teaspoons of the sesame oil and the fish sauce. Whisk until very smooth.
2. In a separate small bowl, whisk together the chicken stock and the cornstarch until smooth. Set aside.
3. Heat half of the remaining sesame oil and half of the canola oil in a wok over medium-high heat. Add the sliced mushrooms and sprinkle with sea salt. Cook until golden brown on both sides and tender, about 5-6 minutes, stirring often. Transfer the cooked mushrooms to a plate. Add the remaining sesame oil and canola oil to the walk along with the shredded cabbage and the minced garlic. Cook quickly, just until wilted, stirring frequently.
4. Add the sauce and the noodles to the pan with the cabbage. Use tongs to coat the noodles in the sauce, then add the chicken stock with the cornstarch. Continuously toss the noodles in the sauce until the sauce is glossy and thickly coats the noodles. Add the mushrooms back to the pan and toss a few more times, then remove from the heat. Serve immediately, topped with chopped scallions.

The post Hong Kong // Shanghai Noodles with Mushrooms and Cabbage appeared first on Katie at the Kitchen Door.

I’ve been trying to perfect some of my pasta recipes. In my kitchen, pasta is both a luxury and a staple, giving it a unique place in my repertoire. It’s easy to make, and it’s what I crave when I’m exhausted and can’t think of anything else to make. But it’s also a treat – I usually go heavy on the cream and the cheese. So when I make it, I want it to be really good. And too often, it’s just OK. Why indulge in a giant bowl of pasta that’s just OK? I want my pasta to be great.

The first recipe I tackled was a fresh heirloom tomato sauce. It took a few tries, but now it’s pretty much the only thing I want to eat when I’ve got an excess of fresh tomatoes (and you can find the recipe here). Next up, mushroom cream sauce. I’ve been making a variation of this for ages, but it’s never quite what I want, which is: golden brown and crispy mushrooms; a thick, luxurious sauce that covers each and every bite of pasta; the right balance of mushrooms and pasta; and plenty of cheesy flavor in every forkful.

So here’s what I’ve learned over the past few weeks in my efforts to make the perfect bowl of creamy mushroom pasta. First, there’s never enough sauce. What looks like a huge amount of sauce becomes dwarfed by half a pound of pasta in no time. As a corollary, you need more mushrooms than you think you do – I weighed my mushrooms this time, thinking there would be way too many and wanting to give you accurate measurements. But a pound of mushrooms quickly cooks down into just enough for half a pound of pasta. You already know this one, but don’t crowd your mushrooms – give them lots of space in the pan so they turn crisp and brown. And last, my secret pasta weapon: mascarpone. A spoonful stirred into hot pasta makes all your pasta dreams come true, thickening the sauce just enough to luxuriously coat each noodle.

I know that many of us are trying to watch the indulgences this month – saving room for all the cookies and wine and Christmas treats. But it’s all about balance, right? And sometimes you just need a bowl of pasta. When you do, make it a good one.

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More perfect pasta recipes:

Heirloom Tomato and Sweet Onion Pasta

Rigatoni Bolognese

Butternut Squash Carbonara with Fried Sage

Creamy Mushroom Pasta

A Katie at the Kitchen Door original recipe. Serves 2-3.

• 3 TBS butter
• 2 shallots, peeled and sliced into thin rings
• 1 lb of mixed wild mushrooms, thinly sliced (I used an equal mixture of criminis, shiitakes, and chanterelles)
• 1/2 cup heavy cream
• 1/2 lb. spaghetti
• 2 oz. freshly grated parmesan cheese (about 3/4 cup packed)
• 1 cup of pasta cooking water
• 1/4 cup mascarpone
• black pepper
• sea salt
• 2 TBS minced fresh parsley leaves

1. Bring a large pot of salted water to a rolling boil. Let boil while you prepare the sauce (don’t add the pasta until the sauce is almost ready).
2. Melt the butter in a wide frying pan over medium heat. Add the sliced shallots and saute until soft and translucent, about 3-4 minutes. Add one variety of the sliced mushrooms in a single layer, being careful not to crowd the mushrooms to ensure good browning. Let the mushrooms cook undisturbed until they are golden brown on one side, about 2-5 minutes depending on the mushroom variety, then flip and cook on the other side. Transfer the cooked mushrooms to a plate, then repeat with the remaining varieties of mushrooms. Once all the mushrooms are cooked, add them all back to the pan and lower the heat to medium-low.
3. Add the spaghetti to the boiling water and cook until barely al dente, 1 or 2 minutes less than the package directs.
4. Add the heavy cream to the pan with the mushrooms and stir until the mushrooms have absorbed most of the cream, about 1-2 minutes. When the pasta is just al dente, use tongs to transfer the noodles directly into the pan with the mushrooms and cream. Add a ladleful of the hot pasta water to the pan as well (about 3/4 to 1 cup), along with the grated parmesan cheese. Use the tongs to toss the pasta with the mushrooms until the cheese is melted and a smooth, luxurious sauce has formed. Cook one to two minutes longer if needed for the sauce to thicken. Remove from the heat. Stir in the mascarpone and parsley until they coat the noodles. Season generously with black pepper, and to taste with sea salt, and serve immediately.

The post Creamy Mushroom Pasta appeared first on Katie at the Kitchen Door.

Well, Thanksgiving went off without a hitch. It was lovely, actually. We managed to squeeze everyone around a long skinny table, and we had almost enough matching place settings, although it was a bring your own chair affair. The turkey (brined in maple, with rosemary-butter under the skin) came out beautifully, and we had far more side dishes than we could eat thanks to everyone’s generosity. The wine was good, and my mom brought four glorious, enormous pies for the ten of us. There’s still half an apple pie and two cups of freshly whipped cream in my fridge, calling my name pretty much every time I walk by.

And then today? I did almost nothing. I mean, I finished cleaning up the kitchen, I did some online furniture shopping from the comfort of the couch, I wrote, and I worked my way through a pile of Bon Appetit magazines, so not nothing. But, it was cold and gray and rainy and for the most part I indulged in a full day of sloth (with a short, one hour exception for a bracing run that actually felt really good). After this year (and let’s be honest, last year too), I could use about two weeks of days like this. But the next two days are a good start, and I’m going to use the pause to share a few recipes here, starting with this Tunisian Lamb-and-Eggplant Stew.

We had a dinner party recently, with a few friends. I’m so happy we’ve entered the dinner party stage of our lives (coinciding with the “hosting Thanksgiving” stage of our lives). What a lovely thing, to sit with friends around a table full of home-cooked food, to drink good wine and talk for hours. I served this Tunisian lamb stew, and I loved it so much that I made it again a week later to share here.

I go through phases where I want to come up with all my own recipes – phases during which I feel unstoppably creative and can’t stop jotting down ideas to test in the kitchen. But I also go through phases where all I want is to cook other people’s recipes, testing them exactly as written, respecting all of their hard work and creativity in developing them for me to eat and enjoy. This fall I seem to be more in the latter phase. More specifically, right now I want to cook my way through the “fall” section of Sunday Suppers at Lucques, which might be my all time favorite cookbook. Reading through the table of contents makes my mouth water, particularly in the fall section where it seems that all of the year’s best produce comes clashing together to be stewed and simmered and roasted to perfection in hearty autumn meals. Grilled Duck with Creme Fraiche, Roasted Grapes, and Potato Bacon Gratin? Braised Chicken with Saffron Onions, Italian Couscous, and Dates? Grilled Tuna with Potato-Tomato Gratin and Rouille? These recipes make me want to hideaway in my kitchen and cook for the next month.

The second time making this lamb stew, when I wasn’t also trying to make a Pumpkin Streusel Cake and a fancy Kale Caesar Salad and put out appetizers, this was actually relatively easy to make. I skipped a few minor steps and consolidated the number of pots and pans used to reduce clean-up, but generally stayed pretty true to the recipe, and it was very manageable for a slow Sunday afternoon. It’s spicy and intense and exactly the sort of homey but slightly exotic dish I want to be putting on the table during these dark November days.

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More from Sunday Suppers at Lucques:

Ricotta Gnocchi with Corn, Mushrooms, and Sage Butter

Fig and Almond Custard Tart

First-of-the-Season Summer Succotash

Tunisian Lamb-and-Eggplant Stew with Farro, Parsley, & Harissa

An incredibly flavorful North African lamb stew with a lot of spicy kick!

Recipe adapted from Sunday Suppers at Lucques. 

• Author: Katie at the Kitchen Door
• Yield: 6

Ingredients

• 3 lbs boneless lamb shoulder or leg, cut into 1 1/2 inch chunks
• 1 TBS caraway seeds
• 1 TBS ground coriander
• 6 cloves garlic, peeled and smahed
• 3 chiles de arbol, cut into small pieces (easiest with scissors)
• 2 tsp parika
• 1/2 tsp cayenne pepper
• 6 TBS olive oil, divided
• 2 small onions, peeled and finely diced
• 2 bay leaves
• 3/4 cup canned crushed tomatoes
• fresh juice from 1 lemon
• 4 cups beef or chicken stock
• 1 cinnamon stick
• 1 large Italian eggplant
• Farro with parsley and butter (recipe below)
• harissa paste, homemade or store bought, for serving
• 1/4 cup flat leaf parsley leaves, minced
• Sea salt and pepper

Instructions

1. Place the lamb in a bowl or a large ziploc bag with the cumin, caraway, smashed garlic, arbol chiles, paprika, cayenne, and 2 TBS of the olive oil. Season generously with sea salt. Use your hands to coat the lamb with the olive oil and spices, making sure to coat all the pieces. Cover bowl with plastic wrap, or zip up the plastic bag, and refrigerate overnight.
2. When ready to cook, take the lamb out of the fridge. Preheat the oven to 325°F. Add 2 TBS of olive oil to a large Dutch oven or wide pot and heat over medium-high heat. Add the lamb (and its marinade) to the pot in a single layer (if the lamb does not fit in a single layer without crowding, do this in two batches). Sear the meat until it’s well browned and caramelized all over. Don’t rush it! You want the lamb to develop a nice, dark brown color. As the lamb is browned, use a slotted spoon to remove it to a plate.
3. When all the lamb is browned, turn the heat down to medium and add the onion and bay leaves to the pot. Saute until onions are tender and golden brown, about 8 minutes. Add the tomatoes and the lemon juice and cook 2-3 minutes, just to coat the onions. Add the beef stock and cinnamon to the pan and bring it to a boil.
4. When the stock is boiling, turn off the heat. Add the browned lamb to the pot. Cover with aluminum foil and a tight fitting lid. Braise the lamb in the oven for 3 hours.
5. About an hour before the lamb is done, cut the eggplant into 1 inch cubes. Toss them with a teaspoon of sea salt and place them in a colander over a plate or bowl. Let them soften and drain for about 20 minutes. Heat the remaining 2 TBS olive oil in a large frying pan over medium heat. Add the cubed eggplant and cook, turning frequently, until it is seared on all sides and tender, about 10 minutes total. Transfer to a plate lined with a paper towel to soak up the excess olive oil.
6. After 3 hours, check the meat for doneness – it should be falling apart and super tender. Taste the stew for seasoning and add salt and pepper if desired. At this point, you have two options. The easy option is to add the fried eggplant and the minced parsley to the lamb as it is, then serve. The second option, if you want a more elegant presentation, is to ladle most of the lamb’s braising juices out of the pan, and pour them through a strainer into a second pot. Discard the vegetables and keep only the strained juices. Skim the fat from the juices, then reduce the juices over medium heat until thickened. Add the reduced juices back to the stew, along with the eggplant, then stir in the minced parsley. Serve.
7. To serve, divide the farro between bowls and ladle the stew on top. Serve with harissa on the side.

Farro with Parsley and Butter

Recipe adapted from Sunday Suppers at Lucques. Serves 6.

• 2 TBS olive oil
• 1/2 cup diced onion
• 1 cinnamon stick
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 1/2 cups farro
• 2 tsp salt
• 4 TBS butter
• 1/4 cup minced flat leaf parsley

1. Heat the olive oil in a large pan over medium heat. Add the onion, cinnamon stick, and bay leaf and saute until the onion is translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the farro, stir to coat with the olive oil, and toast for 2 minutes. Then, add 8 cups of water and the salt. Bring to a boil, then turn down the heat and simmer for 30 minutes, or until the farro is tender.
2. Drain the farro and discard the cinnamon stick and bay leaf. Add the butter and the parsley to the hot farro and stir until the butter is melted and the parsley is fully mixed in. Serve warm.

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I’m so happy that I’ve had this week at home. I expected fall to be over by the time I got back from Portugal last Friday night, but instead, I woke up early Saturday to find a brilliant, glowing fall morning. I went for a walk at sunrise (jet lag problems) and reveled in the pink sky, the orange leaves tinged with sunlight, the blue-green frost on the grass, the smell of woodsmoke, even the cold, which is still exhilarating and festive feeling, and not yet the menacing cold of January and February. All week I’ve been marveling in the outdoors, as well as in the simple pleasure of being home. It’s weeks like this that make me think I will always end up back in New England, no matter how far afield my adventures take me.

This week was also a bit of a roller coaster, for many. In my circles at least, there was a lot of negative emotion being dumped into the world – shock and anger and frustration. No matter what your political opinions are, it’s difficult to be surrounded by people who are upset. We all absorb each other’s emotions – empathy is a critical component of being able to function in our society – but when that emotion is overwhelmingly negative sometimes I feel the need to withdraw. So this weekend I am taking things slow, taking care of myself, fighting off the beginnings of a cold before I get on a plane again tomorrow night. And part of that care is this soup, into which I crammed as many autumnal flavors as I could. The base of this soup is roasted pumpkin and carrots tossed with curry powder, then pureed into a light and creamy bisque and topped with fried prosciutto and sage. I’m glad to have gotten at least one pumpkin recipe up this fall before we transition into holiday flavors (is it possible that there are only 7 weeks left this year? How absurd). I hope you enjoy the soup and these last few days of autumn!

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Curried Pumpkin Bisque with Prosciutto and Sage

A Katie at the Kitchen Door original recipe. Serves 4-6.

• 1 medium (3 lb.) sugar pumpkin or acorn squash
• 2 carrots, peeled and cut into one inch pieces
• 4 TBS olive oil, divided
• 1 1/2 tsp curry powder, divided
• sea salt
• 2 TBS butter
• 1 large onion, peeled, halved, and sliced into thin half moons
• 8 sage leaves, divided
• 1 TBS minced fresh ginger, from a 1 inch piece of ginger
• 1/2 tsp cumin seeds
• 4 cups chicken stock
• 1/3 cup heavy cream, plus more for garnish
• 3 thin slices prosciutto, torn into pieces

1. Preheat the oven to 375°F. Cut the top off the pumpkin and set aside. Carefully slice the pumpkin in half lengthwise. Scoop out the seeds and pulp and discard or save for roasting. Cut the pumpkin halves into thick wedges and place on a large rimmed baking sheet, along with the carrot pieces.
2. In a small bowl, whisk together 3 TBS of the olive oil, 1 tsp curry powder, and about 1/2 tsp sea salt. Drizzle over the pumpkin and carrot, using your hands to rub the oil onto both sides of the vegetables. Roast until the pumpkin and carrot are tender, about 30-40 minutes, flipping once halfway through. Use a spoon to scoop the soft roasted pumpkin flesh away from the skin, saving the flesh and discarding the skin.
3. In a large soup pot, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the sliced onion and saute until translucent and tender, about 5-7 minutes. Roll 4 of the sage leaves into a cylinder and thinly slice, then add the slices to the onions and butter. Add the minced ginger. the remaining 1/2 tsp curry powder and the cumin seeds to the pot as well and saute until fragrant, about 3 minutes. Add the roasted carrots, roasted pumpkin flesh, and chicken stock to the pot and bring to a simmer. Simmer for for about 10 minutes, then remove from the heat and add the heavy cream. Transfer the soup to a blender (or use an immersion blender) and blend until very smooth and creamy. (Always be careful when blending hot liquids! If your blender is not designed to blend hot liquids, wait for the soup to cool to room temperature before blending). If necessary, thin out the soup with more cream or chicken stock until it reaches the desired consistency.
4. Before serving, heat the remaining 1 TBS of olive oil in a small frying pan. Roll the remaining 4 sage leaves into a cylinder and thinly slice, then add to the olive oil. Fry sage until crispy, about 3-4 minutes, then add the prosciutto pieces and fry until prosciutto is crispy, another 1-2 minutes. Remove from heat.
5. To serve, divide the soup between bowls. Drizzle with a little cream and top with the fried sage and prosciutto. Serve immediately.

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I have the perfect recipe for your last heirloom tomato – I hope you’ve been saving it. When all of our beautiful, Striped German tomatoes ripened seemingly simultaneously at the end of September, I was sort of at a loss for what to do with them all. I like tomatoes but I don’t love tomatoes, at least the way some people do. You will probably never catch me eating a tomato like an apple. I’m a little bit embarrassed to admit it but you might actually find me picking the tomato out of a sandwich now and then, if it’s a particularly bad tomato. So I was a bit stressed by the idea of using up 12 pounds of beautiful homegrown tomatoes before they went bad.

I was flipping through my favorite cookbooks, looking for tomato-inspiration, when I came across a recipe for Spaghetti with Heirloom Tomatoes, Basil and Bottarga Breadcrumbs in Sunday Suppers at Lucques, which is my very favorite cookbook, at least currently (all of Suzanne’s recipes are so spot on, and seemingly timeless, given that the flavors still sound incredible over 10 years after the book was published). While I wasn’t looking for anything as complicated as making homemade breadcrumbs flavored with cured tuna roe on this particular evening, the other flavors in the recipe sounded just right, so I made a few quick modifications and tried it. It was good, but not mind-blowing. But I loved the idea of the dish, and there were elements that were really strong – I loved the mellow sweetness of the onions melding with the tangy-sweet tomato, the way the rosemary fried in olive oil seemed to perfume the whole dish, and the process of cooking the spaghetti in the sauce so it would soak it up. It just needed more body and more salt. So I kept trying the recipe, adding a spoonful of capers here, toning down the chile heat, and finally, the move that sealed the deal, stirring in a generous spoonful of mascarpone cheese, which transformed the sauce into something silky and luxurious that coated every noodle.

Now that it’s perfect, I want to eat this spaghetti every day. Which is why, although I considered it, I couldn’t wait until next tomato season to share this with you. I want you to be able to try it now, with those last tomatoes. And after this I promise that it’s going to be all soups and roasts and dumplings and pumpkin-y things around here.

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Heirloom Tomato and Sweet Onion Spaghetti

Inspired by Sunday Suppers at Lucques. Serves 2-3.

• 2 TBS olive oil
• 1 TBS chopped fresh rosemary leaves
• 1/2 small red chile, seeded and finely minced OR 1/4 tsp red pepper flakes
• 1 large sweet onion, peeled, halved, and cut into very thin half-ring slices
• 2 large heirloom tomatoes (about 2 pounds total), cored and cut into 1 inch pieces
• 1/2 lb. spaghetti
• 2 TBS butter
• 1 TBS capers
• 1/4 c. mascarpone cheese
• 10 leaves fresh basil, rolled and julienned
• 2 TBS chopped fresh parsley leaves
• 1 oz. parmesan cheese, shaved into flakes with a vegetable peeler

1. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat.
2. Heat the olive oil in a large frying pan over medium heat. Add the rosemary leaves and the minced chile or red pepper flakes. Saute until fragrant and sizzling, about 60 seconds. Lower the heat to medium-low, add the onion slices and saute, stirring frequently until very tender and translucent, about 5-7 minutes. Add the tomato pieces and stir. Cook, stirring frequently, until tomatoes have softened into a sauce and the sauce has thickened, about 10-15 minutes.
3. When your sauce is almost ready, add the spaghetti to the boiling water. Cook until it is almost al dente – drain the pasta about 1-2 minutes before it is done (you are going to finish cooking it in the sauce). Transfer the hot pasta to the pan with the tomatoes and toss to coat. Add the butter and capers and toss with the pasta and sauce. Cook for 1-2 minutes longer then remove from the heat. Stir in the mascarpone cheese until it has coated all of the pasta. Sprinkle the sliced basil and parsley over the top of the pasta and stir to mix. Divide the pasta between 2 or 3 plates and top each serving with some of the flaked parmesan cheeese. Serve immediately.

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Originally, I was planning on making last night’s recipe the last one I posted for rhubarb week. But once I started looking, I just couldn’t stop finding recipes I wanted to make! Then, in an email exchange with Linda, she mentioned the rhubarb ginger crumb bars she was planning on posting soon, and I immediately remembered these amazing rhubarb ginger bars I made a few summers ago. I had to share them. They have a ginger-flavored shortbread crust that’s buttery and crumbly, and a tangy, pink filling reminiscent of lemon squares (which are one of my favorite desserts). They stay a little soft on top, so they’re not the easiest to transport, but that didn’t stop me from bringing some to work in a tupperware – a squished rhubarb bar still tastes absolutely delicious.

So this is the last (and in my opinion, the best) official recipe of rhubarb week – but if I’m being honest, I’m only stopping because I ran out of rhubarb. I’m hoping to replenish my stocks at the garden this weekend to make a special dessert for Sunday dinner, but I promise I’ll give you guys a little bit of a break and mix things up around here – we’re moving on to Southern food, some more inspiration from our Italy trip, and a few new summer cookbooks. Until then, have a great weekend!

Rhubarb Week Part One: Rhubarb-Prosecco Spritzer
Rhubarb Week Part Two: Rhubarb Custard Fool
Rhubarb Week Part Three: Recipe Round-up from Around the Blogs
Rhubarb Week Part Four: Persian Rhubarb and Beef with Rice

Rhubarb-Ginger Bars

Adapted slightly from Two Spoons. Makes about 16 bars.

• 1 stick salted butter, room temperature
• 1/3 c. light brown sugar
• 1 c. flour
• 1/2 tsp ground ginger
• 2 c. chopped rhubarb (about 4-5 medium sized stalks)
• 10 TBS sugar, divided
• 3 eggs
• 2 TBS lemon juice
• 1 TBS cornstarch

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line an 8×8 inch baking pan with parchment paper. In a small bowl, beat together room temperature butter and brown sugar until mixture is smooth. Stir in flour and ground ginger. Dough will be slightly crumbly. Press into the prepared pan and place in freezer until oven is preheated. Bake crust for 20 minutes, then remove from oven.
2. In a medium saucepan, combine rhubarb and 5 TBS of the sugar. Heat over medium heat, stirring frequently, until rhubarb is soft and juices are syrupy, about 5-7 minutes. Remove from heat and puree in a food processor. Let cool so it’s no longer hot to the touch.
3. In a medium bowl, whisk together eggs and remaining 5 TBS of sugar until thick and pale yellow. Whisk in lemon juice, then stir in cooled rhubarb puree. Sift in cornstarch and whisk to combine. Pour rhubarb puree over crust.
4. Lower oven temperature to 320°F. Bake rhubarb bars for 20-25 minutes, until filling is set. Refrigerate until cold and serve chilled.

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