danapop

Growing up we ate all sorts of exotic foods. Living in Hawaii while I was young provided me with a pretty diverse palate that made everyone in my family adventurous eaters (except for my mom who unfortunately has a pretty severe shellfish allergy which was discovered while living on Oahu). That, coupled with all the Allied Officers my parents sponsored, meant we were exposed to plates of Vietnamese, Moroccan, Egyptian, African–you name it–foods, most of which would cause me to clean my plate.

But, even when I was young in addition to the daring, I liked very simple foods. For several years in a row my birthday meal request was a bowl of pinto beans and cornbread. My twin sister was not a happy camper, and if memory serves, finally vetoed the meal for shared occasions. It’s really no wonder why I like Southern food so much because at its heart, it’s as simple as it gets.

Years ago I got sent a press kit for Gena Knox’s cookbook, “Southern My Way.” I adore her take on Southern food, primarily because most of it has a modern twist and is not as heavy as traditional food from this region. I make her rosemary biscuits with honey ham for a quick supper, but my favorite so far is her healthful recipe for collards with capers, raisins, and pine nuts. I love how it’s not laden with the extra fat so often found with greens recipes, nor does it take hours to prepare. I’ve tweaked it with kale (which she suggests) that I cannot get enough of recently. It’s the perfect side this summer for anything you’re throwing on the grill.

Gena was kind enough to let me reprint the recipe and use her gorgeous photograph from the cookbook.

Kale (or Collards) with Capers, Raisins, and Pine Nuts
PREP TIME 15 minutes
COOK TIME 10 minutes
YIELDS 4-6 servings

2 teaspoons olive oil
1 ¼ pounds kale, ribs and stalks removed and leaves sliced crosswise into ribbons (about 15 cups of greens)
¼ cup finely chopped shallots
½ cup chicken or vegetable stock
½ teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons golden raisins
1 ½ tablespoons balsamic vinegar
1 ½ tablespoons toasted pine nuts
1 tablespoon capers

FIRST Heat oil in a large stockpot over medium heat. Add shallots and sauté until tender, about 3 minutes. Add half of greens, stock, and salt and cook until greens wilt slightly, about 3 minutes. Using tongs, fold in remaining greens so that wilted greens are mostly on top.

NEXT Add raisins, cover pot with lid, and reduce heat to low. Cook for 8 to 10 minutes until greens are tender, tossing occasionally.

LAST Toss greens with vinegar and season with pepper. Arrange on platter and top with pine nuts and capers; drizzle with extra olive oil, if desired.

Image: © Erica George Dines

Here’s what trend I see popping up in the spirits category this year—gin, gin, gin, gin and more gin, gin. Juniper is having a serious moment here. Snoop had it right back in 1994. I actually wasn’t a fan of it, always favoring the more subtle and smooth vodka in my cocktails, but then I tried Hendrick’s, and besides having incredibly clever packaging made to look like a vintage apothecary jar, it’s the best tasting sip there is.

I’ve now stumbled across what sounds like the most delicious, perfect springtime-into-summer sip of choice–the blackberry cocktail. Of course, it contains gin. This is Atlanta chef Anne Quatrano’s recipe, which was published in a back issue of Southern Living, and I cannot wait to make it. I mean, mint, lime, cucumber, and blackberries all swimming in a sea of gin … how great is that?

Get the recipe here. Don’t know about you, but it helps me keep my mind on my money and my money on my mind.

I know it’s entirely too early to be posting something so seasonal as a dessert composed mostly of strawberry and rhubarb. But, I couldn’t resist. Whenever the weather starts to turn warm (we’ve had some 80° days in succession already in Atlanta) I get a hankering for that tart and sweet concoction. I realize this dessert should be reserved for a hot summer day topped with vanilla ice cream that melts as soon as it hits the steamy surface, but I am impatient and wanted it now.

I was all set to make this a pie, but it’s hard to justify the trouble required for just two people. If I were to go that route for a crowd, I’d try the crust recipe that was recently printed in the New York Times Magazine found here. Instead, I went with my favorite crumble recipe from Ruth Reichl. I found this recipe years ago in a Gourmet magazine (I still miss it) newsletter in which the then editor made a super-simple apricot crumble. I use that base recipe often because it’s a cinch to make and it tastes so great with pretty much any fruit imaginable acting as the filling.

But, the guts of this strawberry rhubarb number, that’s all a family affair.

It begins with the Army housing quarters in Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas, which were my favorite in memory. We lived in this fantastic yellow duplex that overlooked the parade field in the front, and not too far around back, the Missouri River. It was a great, old, big house loaded with plenty of adventures for four rambunctious kids–a banister perfect for sliding, a balcony off my twin sister’s bedroom where hours of rescue operations happened with stuffed animals. That house was also the first time I had my own room in my life, something I was so excited about, but as an adult sort of miss the days of sharing a room with my twin. It was a like a giggle factory in there.

At the back of the house at 6 Sumner Place were massive stalks of rhubarb. I don’t think I’d ever eaten it before I lived in that house. My mom didn’t quite know what to do with it or even what it was. Laughing, she recalled to me she was going to cut down the plant until her parents’ visited and her father told her she’d hit the rhubarb jackpot. From that day forward, she took my Grandmother Fey’s wonderful recipe for strawberry pie and added a generous amount of diced rhubarb stalks to the filling. It’s the most incredible blend of tart, tangy, and sweet underneath that gorgeous crumble topping. And while it is premature to be making and sharing now, I couldn’t resist.

Crumble Topping
• Melt 1 stick of butter
• Stir in ¾ cup sugar
• Stir in ¾ cup flour

Strawberry and Rhubarb Filling
• 1 pint sliced strawberries
• 2 cups chopped rhubarb
• 1 cup sugar
• 3 T cornstarch
• ½ tsp salt

Combine strawberries, rhubarb and sugar, let stand for 60 minutes. Preheat oven to 400°. Drain fruit juice into saucepan with cornstarch and salt mixture. Cook, stirring constantly until mixture thickens. Remove from heat; carefully stir in strawberries and rhubarb. Pour mixture into casserole dish and cover with crumble topping. Bake for 30-40 minutes (until the top is golden brown). Top with vanilla ice cream (Graeter’s is the best).

Although I’m not a football person, I do know the Superbowl is this weekend. Which means you need something fattening and ridiculously delicious to eat, right? And preferably something loaded with a fair amount of cheese. Easy there, Paula Deen. Since it is a special occasion, I have just the thing for you courtesy of one of my oldest friends in the whole world, Linda.

I’ve known Linda since we were about 12, which is quite the feat since I come from a military family and we moved around a fair amount. From our start in seventh grade at East Junior High, I eagerly wanted to be friends with the cool girl with clear braces wearing the Benetton jacket. And I’m so glad we were (and still are). Through the years, she’s done everything from helping me master the dance to Marky Marky and the Funky Bunch’s “Good Vibrations” for cheerleading tryouts at the end of our junior year of high school, to driving an hour out of the way to meet me for a much needed break during my mom’s recovery from her stem cell transplant last year … the gurl shows up.

This past holiday Linda and her husband hosted my husband and me alongside another dear friend (the one responsible for the recipe found here) and her husband for what ended up as a fun night down memory lane with all of us laughing so hard we were crying. Oh, and Linda also served this amazing spinach artichoke dip that she whipped up from scratch. Thankfully I wasn’t left alone in a room with this fabulous casserole of goodness. That would’ve been dangerous. It’s perfect for this weekend’s worth of yelling at the television.

1 pack cream cheese
2 cups mozzarella cheese
1/2 cup Parmesan cheese
about 4 cloves of fresh garlic (food processor)
a lot of fresh basil (food processor)
salt
pepper
1 bag of fresh spinach torn in pieces
2 small cans of artichoke hearts (or 1 regular size) (food processor)

Mix everything together in the Kitchen Aid then bake in oven at 350° for about 30 minutes. Serve with pita or tortilla chips, crusty bread or crackers.

I grew up in a house outfitted with a popcorn machine. To say my parents’ taste in home furnishing is eclectic is an understatement. In the same room as the aforementioned popcorn machine sits a barbershop chair, a pinball machine (which is not the only one in the house), and a motorcycle hanging from the exposed walnut beams on the ceiling. Yes, you read that right.

It was a wonderful way to grow up, but the best part—my parents actually popped popcorn all the time in that machine. And when the popcorn got dry and stale, my mom would whip up caramel corn. Her recipe for caramel corn is delicious; the molasses gives it a nice complex flavor, similar to Cracker Jack (which is what she calls it).

My mother’s version generally omits the nuts because they made my brother gag, so none of us got them, but feel free to add (as she mentions, “You may add peanuts.”). She, of course, had gallon-sized bags of it waiting for us to gorge on over the holidays. Also, I left the recipe word for word via my mother because I just love how at the end of the recipe she writes, “Bag it and watch it go!” I feel like I’m eating a bit of home with each kernel.

Jeanie’s Cracker Jack
¼ cup honey
¼ cup molasses
¼ cup butter
16 cups popcorn

Heat honey, molasses and butter in a saucepan until blended. Pour over popcorn in a big bowl. Mix well so that all is coated. Then, put in a shallow cookie pan. Bake at 350° for 10 minutes, stirring several times while baking. You may add peanuts. Bag it and watch it go! Made with love … MOM.

Image: Courtesy of glamour.com

Years ago, I remember reading the “Engagement Chicken” article in Glamour magazine. It circulated for a while among my single girlfriends. Do you recall? It was a simple recipe for a roasted chicken with lemon and herbs, and upon making it, many women were later proposed to by the respective consumers of that gorgeous meal. The recipe (and article) can be found here.

It got me thinking about those recipes we pull out when we’re trying to impress. These are meals that set the bar a bit higher than others, but that doesn’t mean they require 15 kitchen gadgets to make. Most often, I’ve found the dishes that appear gussied up really are just simple ways of cooking. In this season of holiday madness and loads of kitchen time that’ll happen between now and New Years Day, here are some of my takes on special meals—most of which require very little effort, except good, high quality ingredients to make memorable bites.

One of my favorite desserts is when my sister-in-law bakes her individual little molten lava cakes. There’s just something so beautifully decadent as the rich chocolate oozes out of individual cakes the second it’s punctured with a spoon. You can find the recipe here.

I’ve been on a mussel kick lately. Which means that everywhere I go, if it’s on the menu, it’s my order. Steamed mussels really are a cinch to make, so I’ve heard. Before 2012, I’d like to attempt the ones here. I mean, it doesn’t get any better than a broth composed of garlic, shallots, butter, herbs and wine all waiting for sweet mussels to take the stage.

According to my husband, his sweet grandmother (who I wish I could’ve met) made a very special beef braciole with egg this time of year. I’d like to make him this showstopping recipe here, no matter the season.

Mussels, chocolate, braciole, a few simple ingredients, plenty of friends and family to share it with, is there anything better?

I suppose a proposal.

Image: Courtesy of staplehouse.com

Fact: fall and soup go together like drag queens and fake eyelashes. Seriously, there’s something about the leaves falling from trees that makes you want to cozy up with a bowl of steamy goodness.

Three soups I’ll be stocking the freezer with this fall come from Art Smith, Sophie Dahl and Jacques Pepin, respectively. The first: Mr. Smith’s chicken noodle from his book Back to the Table: The Reunion of Food and Family. I was recently gifted this at the opening of Smith’s restaurant in Atlanta, Art and Soul (which is fabulous, by the way), in which he signed, “food is love” and I couldn’t agree more. But, pretty sure I’ll be altering his “everything from scratch” version by buying a rotisserie chicken and prepared stock.

I love everything in Dahl’s cookbook, especially her chestnut and mushroom soup. It sums up the November weather in one slurp. I think I made this soup three times in one month last year. The third: Pepin’s recipe for bread and onion soup, featured on NPR’s “Splendid Table.” But, I’ll be experimenting with this one (I know, gasp, how dare I tinker with an expert?) because my husband, while he likes onion, hates soggy bread in soup.

Though, how can I talk soup without mentioning my grandmother? James Beard or not, the best of the bunch (at least in my house) is my grandparents’ recipe for tomato cheese soup. My grandfather made it until he couldn’t, then my grandmother took over stove duties. Here it is.

Templeman’s Tomato Cheese Soup
2-3 stalks of celery
2 onions
1 carton of chicken broth
8-10 fresh chopped tomatoes (or 2 big cans of chopped tomatoes)
1 can Ro*tel
2 tsp. baking soda
1 T sugar
1 lb. Velveeta cheese

Cook celery and onions until tender, then add one carton of chicken broth over vegetables. Add tomatoes (either canned or fresh). Add Ro*tel and sugar (this is noted in the recipe as an addition from my grandmother, not from my grandfather’s mother). Simmer and add the baking soda, salt and pepper (to taste). Turn off stove and let cool for 10 minutes then add the Velveeta cheese to melt in soup.  Enjoy!

Our wedding reception. Wearing my second dress for the night and token bunny ears.

For those of you married, do you ever dream of what you’d do differently if you had the opportunity to plan your wedding all over again? I was never one of those girls who dreamed out my wedding day for hours on end. To be honest, I’m still surprised myself that I met the love of my life when I was 26—I would’ve predicted a much older encounter. At any rate, I love the way my husband tells it as something like me strutting across the CNN newsroom and him checking out the goods squeezed into skinny jeans. To which I pulled the trump card several months later, the ol’ I’m too tipsy to drive home, we’d better go back to your place. Well played. By both of us.

But, I would do it differently. My wedding, that is. We got married October 18, 2003 and planning was stressful and I was a nightmare to be around, I’ll admit. For starters, I’d maybe not handle everything in the wedding department as an afterthought, since I was planning it with my mother four states away just after Shock and Awe began in Iraq, and well, I didn’t give two-you-know-whats about chair covers, dress alterations, and programs then. At that time I was making sure producers on our show’s team were getting outfitted with flack jackets and I was working 12 hour shifts for months on end. But, boy I care now.

I certainly would’ve created a drink for the cocktail hour. Maybe two, one for each of us, each D, a his and hers version of something lovely to sip on during a fall evening while we, the bride and bridegroom, posed for photos. And the drinks would’ve had a meaningful name, representing both the occasion and us. For the gents, it’d certainly include bourbon, since it’s my husband’s drink of choice, mine something varying off a Pimm’s Cup, since that and vodka tonics are generally the only two cocktails I order.

Here’s what we would’ve, should’ve riffed on for our cocktail hour. Two drinks—we’ll name them the Dahlia and the DSD Old-Fashioned respectively. It was either those names or else our drinks would be called Baghdad and Tight Jeans, and since the occasion included extended family in attendance and a small town in Kansas hosting, I thought names with our monogrammed initials and a pretty flower sounded a bit more respectable. I’m certain my Grammy and mother would agree.

Cin cin to (almost) 8 years.

Dahlia (a.k.a. Tight Jeans)
Recipe from the Napolean House in New Orleans
• Fill a tall 12 oz glass with ice and add 1 1/4 oz. Pimm’s #1 and 3 oz lemonade
• Top with 7up
• Garnish with cucumber

DSD Old-Fashioned (a.k.a. Baghdad)
Recipe adapted from Esquire
• 1 sugar cube
• 3 dashes Angostura bitters
• Club soda
• 2 ounces bourbon

Place the sugar cube (or 1/2 teaspoon loose sugar) in an Old-Fashioned glass. Wet it down with 2 or 3 dashes of Angostura bitters and a short splash of water or club soda. Crush the sugar with a wooden muddler. Rotate the glass so that the sugar grains and bitters give it a lining. Add a large ice cube. Pour in the  bourbon. Serve with a stirring rod.

My husband’s birthday was on Sunday and I surprised him with an iPad 2. It’s a splurge, but considering he’s the last of anyone he knows that works in television to have one (so I heard), I’d say he earned it. We spent the idea of his perfect day pouring over “The New York Times” while drinking coffee and watching Manchester United play.

He really doesn’t ask for much, even when it comes to his birthday dinner, it’s all quite simple. For my birthday I want a restaurant that’s symbolic, which translates as a meal that’s likely expensive, requires a reservation, and is stretched out over several courses. For three years running, we went here for his birthday. I think there were a couple of celebrations here, and there was a memorable meal here, after which neither of us could move for hours from eating so much. This year we went here—I think you can see the trend he’s got going on.

Preparing a birthday cake for this man is a response to the same request year after year. It varies between two cakes (well, one’s a cake, the other not so much). The first, his most requested—red velvet. I use the recipe here, from Smitten Kitchen and it’s labor intensive, but totally worth it since it’s the one time of year I make it; it always seems special and like fall. The other is my mother-in-law’s recipe for chocolate chip cheesecake. I hadn’t made this one in years after a storm that jinxed this recipe about six years ago.

When we lived in our first apartment, the power would go out at the slightest hint of a raindrop. All the time. For days on end. But, oddly, it was only our street, our exact two-block radius in Midtown. I made the cheesecake on a Thursday afternoon for his birthday that Saturday, and wouldn’t you know it, a hard storm hit Atlanta and we lost power until Monday morning. I’ll be darned if he didn’t keep that fridge shut for those four days with threats of breaking sculls at Georgia Power if that cheesecake was ruined.

So we sat with forks, like that episode of “Friends” when Chandler and Rachel are fighting over the last slice, and man was that cheesecake good. I’ve decided to share it with you. Birthday candles and plates optional.

Chocolate Chip Cheesecake

Ingredients
1 ½ cups finely crushed creme filled chocolate sandwich cookies (about 18 Oreos)
¼ cup melted butter
3 (8 oz.) packages of cream cheese, softened
1 (14 oz) can of sweetened condensed milk
3 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 cup mini chocolate chips
1 teaspoon flour

Instructions
Preheat oven to 300°F. Combine cookie crumbs and butter; pat firmly on bottom of a 9” spring form pan. In large mixing bowl, beat cheese until fluffy. Add evaporated milk, beat until smooth. Add eggs and vanilla, mix well.

In a small bowl toss together ½ cup of chocolate chips with the flour to coat; stir into cheese mixture. Pour into prepared pan. Sprinkle remaining chips evenly over top.

Bake one hour or until cake springs back when lightly touched. Cool to room temperature. Chill. Remove side of pan. Garnish as desired. Refrigerate leftovers.

Like most cities across the country, Atlanta is hot in August. It’s summertime, folks, and that means scorching days, which in my house translates as,  I don’t want to be stuck in the kitchen stirring a pot of something over an open flame for hours (actually that wouldn’t happen, no matter the season).

Besides a ton of grilling that occurs at our house this time of year, my favorite go-to meal that requires very little effort is quiche. Growing up I couldn’t grasp what quiche meant, as it always held a double entendre. My father, when my twin sister and I would play with our Barbie dolls, would tell us that Ken was a quiche eater. We’d laugh and insist that he wasn’t, not knowing at the time he was implying that Ken most likely didn’t want to date Barbie, but, perhaps a fellow named Bart would’ve been more his type. I assure you, my father was not as closed-minded as this statement would seem, but instead of making me ask what was wrong with Ken, it begged the question, what was wrong with quiche?

Quiche has become one of my weeknight staples of late. The French do many things right with this dish—it’s versatile with the time of day it’s served, as well as, what happens to fill within the bounds of the pastry crust—it’s limitless (and an excellent vegetable and cheese bin cleanout).

I’m the sort of person who even when it’s 95° outside, will sit in front of the television wearing wool socks and a sweatshirt under a blanket, so I don’t mind the slow and low time it takes to bake one of these gems, as most recipes do take a bit of oven time to cook. I just check every 15 minutes or so, let cool the rest of the day, and serve at room temperature that night.

When I’m feeling particularly ambitious, I’ll make my own crust. If not, I buy a pre-made one at the farmers market that is just as good. Epicurious has several recipes with fantastic combinations (mushroom and Fontina or ham, leek, and three cheese) if you need suggestions. Mine is pretty basic—just four or five eggs, a bit of milk (yes, I know, I use skim instead of cream, which is very un-French) and whatever is in the meat, vegetable, or cheese drawer, all baked around 325° for about 45 minutes. The one I made this past week used rosemary, parsley, and a tomato from our garden with spinach, and goat cheese. Add simple greens and a glass of wine and it’s a meal filling enough for both Barbie and Ken—respective partners included.

Right now I’m up to my elbows in both tomatoes and peaches. The first, because I planted four different varieties in our garden this past spring and they are just beginning to turn from pale green into a vibrant red relatively at the same speed (minus the one shining star ready for picking). The second, the peaches, because I bought a half peck in south Georgia en route to Atlanta from Florida.

I’ve thought of all sorts of things to do with both … there’s a tomato jam recipe (here) that I’d like to try, and the peaches will be good in just about anything (an oat-crusted crumble, piled on top of homemade vanilla ice cream). But, I keep coming back to the caprese. The simple Italian insalata trifecta of sliced tomatoes, basil, and buffalo mozzarella drizzled with good olive oil, a pinch of salt and pepper—perfection.

I’m certain I could eat this daily for a great length of time for lunch or dinner and never tire. Then, I stumbled upon a recipe (here) for peach caprese, and well, wow!

Wishing I would’ve bought another peck.

My in-laws visited us last month for Easter, and they brought with them a bottle of Limoncello from Italy. I’ve always had a strong relationship with anything citrus, specifically lemon … scented hand soap, or accompanying seafood and vinaigrettes; I love this fruit in all its freshness and burst of happiness. It is a happy thing, isn’t it? And quite in your face about it too, I might add.

Limoncello is a no-brainer because it’s all that, plus, I can fully support a recipe that only calls for a mere handful of ingredients, especially when one of those happens to be vodka, yes sir. I used a recipe from Giada, found here, but the herb addition is all mine. I wish the oregano inclusion was because I’m just that creative, but to say my garden at the moment is overrun with it is an understatement. The infusion of this earthy herb was done more out necessity than anything else since the rosemary, mint, and basil are getting jealous of its abundance and planning a turf war revolt along the lines of no pesto for you this summer.

It all worked out well; oregano floating around drunk in a pool of lemony goodness, now, that’s cin-cin toast-worthy, and a much better fate than a screaming match with parsley.

Writer’s note–I intentionally left out the finished product image.  The nicest way to put it … Limoncello can pass for a sample Lohan and Sheen have to randomly provide their parole officers. It’s delicious, but unfortunately not at all photo friendly.

When a meal ends I generally cap off the occasion with a glass of wine or coffee. I’m not a huge dessert person, but there are several treats I go gaga for … coconut, carrot and red velvet cake, to name three, well, maybe I am a sweets person. But, the dessert I adore above all others is Key Lime Pie. Tart, tangy, creamy, cool, and generally reserved for sun-scorcher days or ordering in a somewhat tropical place. I love everything about this pie including that it screams spring to me with its pale yellow hue topped in white clouds of whipped heavy cream.

I remember making it as a teenager at my parents’ house in Kansas, it seemed so exotic, and even though I could never find key limes, a bottled variety found at the commissary could curb my cravings. It’s pretty obvious I’m not terribly picky when it comes to this pie, as I’ve even been known to eat the basic supermarket variety. I’d never made it from scratch including the buttery graham cracker crust, but I decided to do just that this past weekend. This treat requires ridiculously few ingredients and is relatively easy to make, to which the recipe found here will attest.

Springtime in Atlanta is in full bloom and I’m thinking this will become just the thing to officially kick off the warm weather season at our house.

Years ago, while at my grandparent’s lakehouse, my uncle made his famous pimento cheese. My husband had one taste and became obsessed with the spread ever since. If you’re not familiar, pimento cheese is what happens if a simple mayonnaise-based dip and block of cheddar cheese were to have a baby. Said baby would then be showered in flecks of smoky pimentos and perhaps given the gift of garlic, pepper, and perhaps (like all good Southern cooks) even a secret ingredient or two.

Low calorie, it is not … this is a decadent snack I generally reserve for company so I can spread the cheese love and not be sneaking heaps of it on crackers at 4 a.m. straight out of the fridge. Or making it into toasted cheese sandwiches topped with bacon and arugula. Hurts so good. I’ve tried to make it lower in fat and calories and am met with a sub par taste and reaction. Greek yogurt is too tart and lower-fat cheeses don’t hold up. The best mix I know is a hybrid of several recipes with the base being from Bella Cucina, a specialty food store I used to work at in Atlanta. The Bella version subs the traditional pimentos for roasted red pepper from its line of jarred goods, which is a great addition. Though, the staple at our house is the tried and true traditional pimento taking center stage; feel free to use this as a base and add other ingredients, like my uncle’s secret weapon of green olives, or my husband’s favorite of jalapenos.

Pimento Cheese
• 2 pounds of cheese (I shred 1 pound extra sharp cheddar, 1 pound white cheddar, but any mix of your favorite hard cheese is fine—shred with a medium size-blade)
• 2 tablespoons of Durkee Famous Sauce (this is a not-so-secret ingredient and something I’d never heard of until I moved to Georgia, it’s essentially a mustard-meets-mayo blend and Chowhound has a whole post about it)
• 1 cup mayonnaise (Duke’s light works well)
• 3 tablespoons of jarred pimentos (sometimes I use more, sometimes less depending on taste)
• 2 garlic cloves minced (you want this minced very small, even better to send through a microplane)
• 1 tablespoon of smoked paprika a.k.a. pimentón (another not-so-secret ingredient, do not use regular paprika … you need the smokiness of the real deal Spanish powder)
• ¼ teaspoon of salt (optional)
• ¼ teaspoon of cracked black pepper (optional)

Mix in bowl and put in refrigerator for a couple of hours. See if flavors melded and if more mayonnaise needs to be added for a creamier texture, adjust seasoning accordingly. Best served at room temperature.

Pizza really is the great equalizer of food. It’s a rare exception when one doesn’t love it, especially when it’s homemade. The problem at our house is I’ve always been weary of dough. I’ve written about my mother’s incredible talent for breadmaking here, and it didn’t stop with just white loaves of baked goodness. It branched into bagels, crusts, yeast rolls, and sweet breads.

This Christmas I got a pizza stone. I’d been wanting one for ages, blaming the cookie sheet as the problem for me wrecking Trader Joe’s already-made whole wheat dough that’s a staple in our freezer. Taking on the challenge of making dough from scratch, I’ve been playing around lately with perfecting crusts and topping combinations. I’ve been using the crust recipe here, from Smitten Kitchen; it’s basic, good, and is the perfect base for piled-on toppings.

Pizza is the quickest, tastiest dinner I can whip together that everyone loves. From a last minute dinner party, to a weeknight meal, it can be as healthy and as satisfying as you want. Another thing I love—it’s timeless. No matter the season, you can load up a pizza on the spot to match what’s fresh. Summer—the classic Margherita’s my favorite with all the basil from our herb garden. I might even sub out tomato sauce with homemade pesto, a trick I got from a dear friend. Winter requires something a bit more substantial; the pie pictured in this piece was loaded with salami, arugula, spinach, and three different cheeses (goat, ricotta, mozzarella).

Happy noshing.