• grape parfaits

    The other night my daughter asked to make something special for dessert. She didn’t have any clear ideas—she just wanted to cook.

    “Well,” I said, “there’s grape filling in the fridge…. Oh, I have an idea! Watch this.” And then we proceeded to beat cream cheese and whip cream and thicken grapes and toast graham crackers.

    I instructed her to get the wine glasses from the cupboard and showed her how to fill them—a blob of cream cheese, a plop of grape sauce, a sprinkling of crackers—repeating the layers until everything was used up.

    It ended up looking like a put-together dessert rather than the hodge-podge of ingredients that it was. It tasted right classy, too—rich, fruity, and cool.

    Grape Parfaits
    This looks a lot more complex than it actually is. I was just winging it—no recipe and no measurements, using up what I had on hand.

    No grape filling? Sub in another pie filling such as sour cherry, blueberry, rhubarb and strawberry, apricot, etc.

    For the grape filling:
    2 cups of grape sauce, skins in, seeds removed
    1-2 tablespoons Therm-Flo or cornstarch
    ½ cup sugar

    Combine everything and bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring constantly. Remove from heat and chill.

    For the cream cheese:
    8 ounces cream cheese
    ½ cup confectioner’s sugar
    1 teaspoon vanilla
    1 cup whipping cream

    Whip the cream. In a separate bowl, cream together the cream cheese, confectioner’s sugar, and vanilla. Fold in the whipped cream.

    For the graham cracker crumbs:
    1 ½ packages graham crackers, ground into crumbs
    2 tablespoons sugar
    4 tablespoons butter

    Melt the butter in a skillet. Add the graham cracker crumbs and sugar. Cook, stirring constantly, until the crumbs are toasty and a couple shades darker. Immediately remove from the skillet so they don’t burn.

    To assemble:
    Get out 6 to 8 of your fanciest goblets. Put a spoonful of cream cheese mixture in each, then a spoonful of grape sauce, and then a sprinkling of graham cracker crumbs. Repeat the process until all the components are used up or the glasses are full, whichever comes first.

    This same time, years previous: chocolate yogurt cakeroasted tomato sauce, pasta with sauteed peppers and onions

  • pasta with lemon-salted grilled zucchini and onions

    A number of different sources contributed to this meal.

    The grilled zucchini wedges and lemon salt (brilliant) came from Ree. The grilled onion came from an NPR interview in which a chef said his favorite thing to grill was red onion. (I think I’m beginning to see why.) The bag of chopped cooked chicken came from the depths of my freezer—

    Speaking of freezers, the other day I sent my older son to the basement to fetch some more empty quart jars.

    “Mom!” he yelled from the foot of the basement stairs. “There’s a buzzing noise down here! It’s really, really loud! I’m not going in there!”

    So I had to go investigate. It was the upright freezer alarm. The door had been left partially open (my husband accepts full responsibility). All the stuff in the door was thawed. The bags of corn and green beans and containers of pesto that were sitting along the edges of the shelves were softening. I rearranged things, shut the door tight, and in a couple hours the food was frozen up nice and hard again. It wasn’t too much of a tragedy, lucky us.

    Also, speaking of freezers, both my freezers are filled to the gills. I can’t make bread or cakes or anything that might need to be frozen—there simply isn’t room. Locating the wheat germ or a jar of green peppers is like a 3D game of Tetris, but with frozen-stiff fingers and scraped knuckles. Every time I get out a box of strawberries, a jar of tea concentrate, or a chicken, I feel like celebrating. More space!

    So that’s the freezer status.

    Back to the meal. You can play around with the ingredients here—grilled red pepper! crunchy green beans! tuna!—but the lemon-salt is key. It kicked the flavors over the top.

    Pasta with Lemon-Salted Grilled Zucchini and Onions
    Inspired by Ree and others

    1 pound spiral pasta
    2 thick slices of red onion
    2 medium-small zucchinis, quartered lengthwise
    2 cups cooked chicken pieces, warmed
    2 lemons (zest from both, juice from one)
    salt and black pepper
    a couple glugs of olive oil
    ½ cup each, mozzarella cheese and freshly grated Parmesan cheese
    ½ cup torn fresh basil

    Put the zucchinis and red onion slices in a pan and toss with a glug of olive oil, the zest from one lemon, the juice of half the lemon, and some salt and black pepper.

    Grill the onion and zucchinis on a medium-high grill. Turn the zucchini wedges every couple minutes (or so) so that all three sides get grill marks. Grill the red onion slices, turning once. Remove veggies from heat and chop roughly.

    Zest the second lemon and add ½ teaspoon of salt (give or take). Chop the lemon with the salt. Now you have lemon salt! Sprinkle over the veggies.

    Cook the pasta according to package instructions. Drain and put in a serving bowl. Add the grilled veggies (making sure to scrape in every last speckle of lemon salt), the chicken pieces, cheeses, and basil. Drizzle with olive oil and the juice from the remaining half lemon. Toss to combine.

    This same time, years previous: 2011 garden stats and notes, topping for apple crisp

  • the quotidian (8.27.12)

    Quotidian: daily, usual or customary; 
    everyday; ordinary; commonplace 

    Cousin cuddles.
    Please note: my son is not yet thirteen
    but already he’s adorning his wrists with bands and chains.
    Is this something that all preteen boys do?

    This Laura Ingalls imposter loved our scraggly peaches.
    Which reminds me. What do you call a fake noodle?
    An impasta.

    A jar of bees: captured by the child most allergic to them.
    Either she’s really stupid or really brave.
    Though I suppose it was smart of her to give her little brother
    the privilege of setting them free,
    since, for his troubles, he got stung twice.

    A true-blue paperbag princess!
    (Though she preferred the title of “Rag Princess.”)

    Smashed and crispy, with oil and salt: the damaged, freshly-dug potatoes.

    Ketchup in the making.

    These days, a daily ritual.

    This same time, years previous: tomato jam, basic oatmeal muffins, earthy ponderations, part three, on not rushing it, chocolate malted milk frosting, nectarine cobbler, odds and ends, fresh tomato salad, buttery basil pesto, basil pesto