Mathematically speaking, parsnip is to carrot as milk is to dark chocolate: lighter in color, softer when grated, and considerably sweeter (we’re talking about actual milk here – I couldn’t resist the play on expectations).

You won’t see it on most restaurant menus, but that’s not because it’s unusual: it might be because those restaurants don’t usually feature parsnips. Dorie and Ottolenghi, for example, both have great recipes in my collection. But when Erin French’s regular newsletter contains a recipe that was a year in the making, it pushes everything else to the side and shoots to the top of my baking to-do list (but I will see you later, Almond Yogurt Cake redo).

A bit of background on Erin French and her restaurant The Lost Kitchen in Freedom, Maine: It opened the summer of 2014 and quickly got popular (and un-lost) for their true farm to table cuisine. There’s a weekly farmer’s market on the premises, and every course tells a story from her past. She decided the only way to thrive was to go old school.

Erin decided to save her local post office by getting rid of phone reservations and instead asking customers to inquire by postcard, and now the postcard lottery is the only way to get a reservation at this 53-seat cult favorite. The reservationist pulls a postcard out of one of the 60,000 annual submissions from a series of post office bins hanging on a giant rack and immediately calls the lucky person to pick a date. So, unless she’s reading this now (and if you are, Erin, say the word and we’ll be there), making her recipes is as close as I can get.

Under normal circumstances, this joins the Easy Olive Oil Cake collection, but on a Sunday when you have

1) efficiently made hummus first and put Cuisinart bowl #1 and lid in the dishwasher,

2) cooked apricot preserves to use in the frosting and put bowl #2 in the dishwasher,

3) put bowl #3 with lid #2 on the Cuisinart to grate the parsnips,

4) realize that the #2 pusher was held captive inside the running dishwasher, and

5) now you have no choice but to grate the parsnips by hand on the old school metal box grater, which would be almost as tedious as reading this ridiculously long run-on sentence. Especially with fennel pinky (see Oxo Peeler).

(Why do I have multiple bowls? It’s a long story, but once we get into the holiday cookie baking, having a backup bowl will make more sense. Why don’t I have a full lid for each? It’s a long story that will never make more sense.)

Back to the mise en place: I used a Cara Cara orange for the zest and juice which yielded about 1/3 cup juice. I’d recommend a food processor to save your sanity and your parsnips, and a toaster oven to toast your hazelnuts at 375 degrees for six minutes. Mine were chopped a little too rough, so next time I’ll chop them slightly smaller. Take out your butter and cream cheese for the frosting at least an hour before starting.

After that it’s business as usual, except for using the stand mixer instead of a whisk. Mix the wet, mix the dry, add the parsnips and hazelnuts, and mix until just incorporated. Erin calls for two 10” springform pans, but I only have one who lives for The Cheesecake. So, I used two 9” layer cake pans instead, greased them with butter, inserted 9” parchment rounds and smoothed them to the edges, then sprayed the parchment with baking release spray. After pouring evenly into the two pans and baking, the tester came out clean after 30 minutes, but it probably could have cooked a minute or so less.

The frosting is fascinating (to me) because it’s the complete opposite of any other frosting I’ve made. Not only because it uses so little confectioners’ sugar, but because of the technique used. Normally it’s a stressful crapshoot with the cream cheese for me, because no matter how long I’ve left it out to soften, it’s never warm enough to prevent some annoying lumps from developing in the butter. This time I took it out hours before, and it became nice and pliable.

Drum roll please: Erin beats the butter first! First!! And the cream cheese goes in last! A seemingly small thing but revolutionary for me, the exact reverse order of my usual default, and it got me wondering if that would solve my cream cheese frosting problem. She then adds the confectioners’ sugar, beating for a minute before mixing in the cream cheese and jam (or preserves, in my case) until incorporated. I was astounded at how quickly and easily it became lump-free, yielding a texture so light and creamy it’s dreamy. Channeling my husband, I swiped a taste for approval: it was scrumptious enough on its own to dream about using it on toast as an appetizer, or on Persimmon Bread (stay tuned) as a decadent dessert.

She frosts only in-between the layers, which makes for a striking visual when it’s cut. I’m not a fan of the confectioners’ sugar garnish (on almost anything) since I don’t want that extra sweet taste in any bite.

I’d recommend a thin slice here, as usual, because you don’t want to muddle the flavors with too much cake in your mouth. It’s clearly in the same family, but slightly denser, than carrot cake, with a whiff of cinnamon in the background, like a babbling brook murmuring behind you during a candlelit dinner. The occasional crunch of the hazelnut is a delightful textural surprise, and there are just enough of them. The subtly sweet flavor of the tender crumb is a sublime counterpoint to the tangy, apricot-spiked cream cheese. Be sure to get at least a little frosting in each bite, even if that means using a smaller fork for smaller bites: as good as this cake is on its own, it’s extraordinary when combined.

Here’s the idea behind thin slice cake math: if the slices are cut thinly enough, three slices equals two, thereby allowing you to eat more cake. More pieces to eat with less guilt is an equation I can get behind.

Sweet Parsnip Cake adapted from Erin French / The Lost Kitchen

about an hour pre-frosting

Cake Ingredients

• 240 grams all-purpose flour, plus more for the pan

• 2 teaspoons baking powder

• 2 teaspoons baking soda

• 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

• 1 teaspoon salt

• 3/4 cup vegetable oil

• 4 large eggs

• Grated zest and juice of 1 orange

• 150 grams granulated sugar

• 142 grams light brown sugar

• 3 cups grated raw parsnips (4-6 parsnips)

• 1 cup raw hazelnuts

Frosting Ingredients

• 6 tablespoons (3/4 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature

• 75 grams confectioners’ sugar, plus more for dusting

• 1 (8-ounce) block of cream cheese, at room temperature

• 1/3 cup apricot preserves or jam

Directions

1. Toast hazelnuts at 350 degrees for 8 minutes. When cool, roughly chop into smaller pieces.

2. Heat the oven to 375 degrees. Spray two 9-inch layer pans with cake release spray and line the bottoms with parchment paper.

3. Whisk the flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, and salt in a medium bowl to combine.

4. Smush the orange zest into the granulated sugar in the bowl of a stand mixer until it resembles wet sand. Add the paddle attachment, then combine the vegetable oil, eggs, orange juice, granulated sugar, and brown sugar and mix on low until smooth. Scrape the sides of the bowl and the paddle.

5. Add the dry ingredients and mix on low speed until just blended, then scrape down the sides of the bowl. Add the parsnips and hazelnuts and mix until just incorporated.

6. Using your scale, divide the batter evenly between the two pans and bake until a cake tester or knife inserted into the center comes out clean, 20 to 25 minutes. Let the cakes cool in the pans on a wire rack.

7. In a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the butter until fluffy and pale, about 1 minute. Add the confectioners’ sugar and beat again for another minute. Add the cream cheese and jam and mix just until incorporated.

8. Put one of the layers upside down on a cake stand and remove the parchment paper. Spread half the frosting over the cake.

9. Top with the second layer, remove the parchment and spread the other half of the frosting over the cake. You can refrigerate any leftovers for a day or two, but they won’t last that long.

Cream Of Eat Sweet Parsnip Cake

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Inside the Pantry

While this recipe will be delicious when made as outlined above, below are some of the specialty items I use that take it up a notch:

• Cinnamon

• Hazelnuts

• Microplane zester

• Beater blade

• Layer pans

• Baking release spray

Gina DePalma was a James Beard winner who put Babbo on the map as the gold standard for Italian pastry in America, but she would be the first to point out that if you googled her, it would direct you to the website of an accomplished porn star with the same name. She was a proponent of using local ingredients to their fullest potential – the simpler the better. Her ideal dessert was a panna cotta, and it became a signature dessert at Babbo with the addition of poached peaches. Needless to say, this is not your run of the mill zucchini cake.

Buy your nuts already toasted if you can. If you can’t, cook them for no more than 8-10 minutes on a low temperature, 275 or 300 degrees; you’ll smell them when they get close. Then pulse the cooled nuts in the food processor into something just before nut butter. They will look like they’re wet and starting to clump together without actually sticking together. This brings out the most moisture in the nuts.

After you’ve removed the nuts from the food processor, shred the zucchini. Then change to the steel blade, and pulse a few more times to make tiny pieces instead of shreds for a much nicer overall texture. If you have kids that won’t eat their vegetables, this will do the trick.

I like to use a fancy Nordic Ware Bundt pan for this cake since I never pass up an opportunity for that WOW moment when it’s brought to the table. The glaze will sparkle, brilliantly of course, on its multitude of sharp edges, and everyone will be satisfied with their share of crust. With a good release bake release spray it’s not hard to grease or clean, and it’s much easier than the old-fashioned grease and flour method. But it you must grease and flour, using almond or hazelnut flour instead of all-purpose to dust the pan will subtly enhance the flavor of the cake and you’ll never suffer raw-flour-mouth again.

I can’t say it enough that it’s all about the quality of the ingredients. Burlap and Barrel spices and the Beyond Good Vanilla Powder will take the cake from ordinary to sublime. As usual for an olive oil cake, make sure to use one with a mild flavor, not too savory or overpowering. I like baking with oils from Tuscany, and I usually find them on the Olive Oil Lovers website or from Costo when they are available during the winter.

Ordinarily I’m not a glaze fan, since they are usually overkill and way too sweet. But here the lemon glaze is a stroke of genius. The cake itself is delicious, and the barely tart flavor complements the zucchini and all those wonderful spices. But it’s that slightly crunchy, crystalized texture against the soft, tender crumb that you can’t stop craving.

Simply put: it’s one of the most delicious ways to use zucchini there is, and one cake won’t seem like enough no matter how thin you slice it.

Zucchini Cake with Crunchy Lemon Glaze adapted from Gina DePalma

about two hours

Cake Ingredients

• 135 grams toasted almonds, pecans or walnuts

• 240 grams all-purpose flour

• 1 teaspoon baking powder

• ½ teaspoon baking soda

• 1 teaspoon kosher salt

• 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

• 1 teaspoon ground ginger

• ½ teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg

• 1 teaspoon vanilla powder OR 2 teaspoons vanilla extract

• 3 large eggs, at room temperature

• 300 grams granulated sugar

• 1 cup (250 ml) extra-virgin olive oil

• 300 grams grated zucchini (from 2-3 small zucchini)

Lemon Glaze Ingredients

• ¼ cup (60 ml) freshly squeezed lemon juice

• 65 grams granulated sugar

• 100 grams confectioners’ sugar

Directions

1. Heat the oven to 350 degrees.

2. To toast the nuts, spread them in an even layer on a baking sheet. Toast at 350 degrees for between 6 and 10 minutes, depending on the nut. Check at 6 minutes and go from there; you want them a slightly deeper color. Cool until room temperature. The easiest solution is to buy the nuts already toasted.

3. Spray a Bundt or tube pan with bake release spray, and use a pastry brush to evenly spread into the nooks and crannies.

4. Pulse the nuts in a food processor until finely chopped.

5. Whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and vanilla powder (if using) in a medium bowl. Set aside.

6. In the bowl of a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, beat the eggs, sugar and olive oil for 3 minutes on medium speed, until light and fluffy, stopping halfway to scrape the sides and beater. If using vanilla extract, beat it in now, then scrape the sides and beater.

7. Mix in the dry ingredients, then stop and scrape down the sides and beater. Beat on medium speed for 30 seconds, then stop and scrape the sides and beater.

8. Stir in the chopped nuts and zucchini and mix to combine.

9. Scrape the batter into the prepared cake pan and smooth the top. Bake for 60 to 65 minutes, until a toothpick or cake tester inserted into the center in multiple spots comes out clean, and the cake has begun to pull away from the sides of the pan. Do NOT underbake the cake.

10. Set the timer for 10 minutes. While the cake is cooling in the pan, make the glaze by whisking together the lemon juice, granulated sugar, and confectioners’ sugar. The glaze will thicken as you wait for the cake to cool, so you’ll need to whisk it again before using.

11. Line the counter under a cooling rack with plastic wrap to catch the glaze drips. After the cake cools for 10 minutes, carefully invert it onto the cooling rack. Brush the glaze liberally over all sides of the cake with a pastry brush and let the cake cool completely.

12. The cake will keep, wrapped or under an airtight dome or in a cake carrier, for 2 or 3 days at least. I like to keep it in the refrigerator, where it will stay fresh for 3 or 4 days at least. The unglazed cake can be frozen for a few months at least, if you can wait that long to eat it once you remember it’s there.

Cream Of Eat Zucchini Cake

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Inside the Pantry

While this recipe will be delicious when made as outlined above, below are some of the specialty items I use that take it up a notch:

• Pecans, Walnuts or Almonds

• Cinnamon

• Ginger

• Nutmeg

• Vanilla powder

• Fluicer

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Cream of Eat: A celebration of good food, olive oil baking, and my much-coveted list. Served with a peek into my life

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Great dark chocolate, like a bar from favorites Soma or Goodnow, can make you forget anything the moment a bite starts dissolving in your mouth, and I am proud to say I don’t regret any of my legendary chocolate stupors.

A warm August tomato just picked from the vine you’ve lovingly and obsessively trussed and coddled, dusted with a wee bit of salt, eaten like an apple, juice dripping.

Even though we’re not snackers per se, I’m always in the market for something I can serve as a nibble at my next dinner party.

Bonus points for minimal effort. Extra bonus points if it’s healthy enough to eat with abandon whenever the mood strikes, or call a vegetable dish at dinner. I would say you can’t get much simpler than this recipe, but then someone would remind me about the just picked tomato, the corn, and the chocolate.

Heat the oven to 400 degrees while you wash and peel four carrots. After discarding the skin you’re going to peel them onto a large cutting board down to their inner core. Joy Bauer, whose recipe this is, likes to move the peeler back and forth rapidly on the carrots, producing a variety of thinner peel sizes that work better in this recipe than long straight consecutive peels, and the secret to this is our old friend the Oxo peeler. Pat the shreds as dry as you can with more paper towels than you think you need, since moisture is your enemy.

Save the cores to eat with dip or hummus (stay tuned) or cut them into smaller pieces and sauté them for your scrambled eggs or frittata. Or eat them. Whatever you do, don’t waste them.

You’ll use 1-1/4 to 1-1/2 cups of freshly grated Parmesan. Having done the grating both by hand and in the food processor before I discovered that Microplane had a zester dedicated solely to cheese, I recommend buying the cheese zester. You will enjoy every second of shaving, since it will literally shave off so much time, pun intended. Sprinkle about a cup of the cheese onto a parchment-lined baking sheet so that the parchment is evenly coated.

Artfully arrange the carrot shreds on top, aiming for even coverage so there’s minimal cheese showing. Mist the tops of the carrots with olive oil spray held high to avoid a cheese dust storm (like a flour storm, but tastier). Sprinkle the remaining cheese on top and add paprika and lemon pepper to taste.

Now the fun part. Bake for 20-25 minutes, depending on the thickness of your carrot pile. Get excited when you peek and it looks like parts are getting too brown and crispy, because those parts will be the ones you fight over. The darker, the better, taste-wise, and when it’s done you’ll literally be able to pick it up in one piece. Impressive presentation be damned, it’s much easier to cut it into small pieces with good sharp kitchen scissors.

Who would have thought that this trifecta would transform into the holy trinity? The cheese hardens to a crackling edge, butting up against softened sweet carrots. In some places it’s a delicate but hearty sandwich, especially when you get the dash of paprika and pepper on top. It’s quickly addicting.

Your intent will be to have this as a snack, but while your back is turned you’ll find that your husband has snuck past and now one enticingly caramelized corner is missing. All’s fair in love and war, and with no time to waste it’s a feeding frenzy.

It’s faster to make than it is to eat. And that’s saying something, since you won’t believe how fast you scarf it down.

Crispy Carrot Parmesan adapted from Joy Bauer

About 30 minutes all in if you use an Oxo peeler

Ingredients

• 4 medium carrots, skin removed

• 1 ¼ to 1 ½ cups grated Parmesan cheese, divided

• Olive oil spray

• Sweet paprika and lemon pepper to taste

Directions

1. Heat oven to 400 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside.

2. Peel the carrots onto a cutting board lined with paper towels. Peel down to the inner stems, and set those aside for munching, salads, or cooking. Spread the peels into an even layer.

3. Using more paper towels or a kitchen towel, press down on the shreds to remove as much moisture as possible. Toss them a few times and press down again. Repeat until all peels are mostly dry.

4. Sprinkle 1 cup Parmesan evenly over the lined baking sheet to coat the parchment paper. Spread the peels on top of the cheese, distributing equally and aiming for little to no cheese showing through.

5. Mist the top of the carrots with the olive oil spray, holding the can at least a foot away to avoid a cheese dust storm (which is like a flour storm, but tastier). Sprinkle the remaining Parmesan on top, along with the paprika and lemon pepper.

6. Bake in the oven for 18 to 20 minutes, depending on how thick your carrot pile is, until browned at the edges and crispy. The burnt-looking parts are the absolute best, so in this case darker is better.

7. Let cool slightly before cutting or breaking into pieces. Toss a coin to see who gets the last piece.

Cream Of Eat Crispy Carrot Parmesan

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Inside the Pantry

While this recipe will be delicious when made as outlined above, below are some of the specialty items I use that take it up a notch:

• Microplane fine cheese grater

• Oxo Good Grips Y Peeler

• Cut Resistant Safety Glove

But there is nothing like the anticipation of that first batch of Nectarine Basil Lemonade. For me, that is synonymous with summer.

There are many reasons to lament the loss of the late, great Gourmet Magazine. It was a go-to source for travel articles and had some of the best food writing around. Museum restaurants, gadgets, trends, a twelve-course dinner – no matter the topic, the article was always worth the read, the photos were stunning, and there was at least one recipe worth saving. The December holiday issue was the first place I’d go for holiday cookies, and sometimes I wouldn’t look anywhere else.

I loved the letters section, especially when they put their detectives to work researching a query about an unforgettable recipe. The wonderful 65 Irving Place restaurant held a special place in my heart, and I never missed an opportunity to enjoy their Lemon Tart, no matter how full I was from my fabulous meal. I dreamed about getting the recipe every time I ate there, but in those days I was too chicken to ask (how times have changed). So I was thrilled when someone else was on the same hunt and they found and printed the recipe!

The last page of the magazine was always a stand-alone, maybe a dessert of the month or recipes around a common theme. It’s only natural that the lemonade appeared there as part of a repertoire of summer coolers.

You know the rule - the simpler the ingredients, the fresher they need to be. You also know I prefer my stone fruit freshly picked, but the California nectarines from Costco work, too, and they have been consistently delicious. Growing my own basil is one of summer’s pleasures, so if you grow it, use it. There will still be enough left over for pesto.

The smell of the fresh nectarines as they simmer with the basil will perfume the kitchen and lure you to the stove. Despite the amount of basil it’s not a basil-forward flavor, just an elusive something else added to the sweet-tart of the nectarines.

The pinky-peach color is exquisite, as if you’ve captured the sunset. This is the time to pull out your prettiest clear pitcher and glasses, since this is a beverage meant to be shown off: thirst-quenching, mouth-puckering, infinitely satisfying, with or without ice, with or without the sliced nectarines floating in it – although it does add a lovely touch if you’re willing to sacrifice another nectarine.

If mixed with a little sparkling water, it qualifies as a spritzer, and with good rum it’s a tropical drink. I like it straight up, cold from the refrigerator, without ice.

Neat, isn’t it? Pun intended.

Nectarine Basil Lemonade adapted from Gourmet Magazine

About a half hour before chilling

Ingredients

• 3 ½ cups water

• 1 cup fresh basil leaves

• 1 nectarine, coarsely chopped

• 150 grams sugar, or to taste

• 1 cup fresh lemon juice

• 1 nectarine, sliced thinly, as garnish

Directions

1. In a 2-quart saucepan stir together 2 cups of the water, basil, the coarsely chopped nectarine, and the sugar. Bring the mixture to a boil, stirring constantly until the sugar is dissolved, then turn down the heat and simmer it for five minutes.

2. Let the mixture cool and, using a fine strainer, strain into a bowl, pressing hard on the solids. I use a wooden spoon for this and move it back and forth until the nectarine is just flat skin. Scrape the bottom of the strainer with the spoon to get all the puree clinging there: it’s precious cargo.

3. Stir in the remaining 1 ½ cups water and the lemon juice.

4. Divide among glasses filled with ice cubes or put in the pitcher and chill, garnished with basil and nectarine slices if desired.

Makes a large pitcher, about 6 cups. It can be easily frozen before the lemon juice is added and keeps for at least six months in an airtight container – and maybe longer, but I’ve never found out because in the middle of winter is when I’m craving it the most.

Cream Of Eat Nectarine Basil Lemonade

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Inside the Pantry

While this recipe will be delicious when made as outlined above, below are some of the specialty items I use that take it up a notch:

• Fluicer

• Great wooden spoon

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Any master class in pesto calls for good basil. Ignore those tiny clamshell boxes where the basil leaves are as tightly packed as if in a corset: there will inevitably be one stem that’s brown or going brown, or the undersides of the leaves will look like they’ve been run over. Sure, it’s humid in there, but it’s a 50/50 chance that you’ll get at least one unusable dud once you unpack it. Save those odds for the lottery.

Your best bet, if you’re not growing it yourself, are the live plants they sell in the supermarket, packaged in cellophane bags that are open on top. These plants like to live in a cup of water, as do the bouquets of basil you’ll see at your local greenmarket. Treat them as if they were flowers brought to you by someone you love and they will keep freshest the longest.

If you’re growing it yourself, any Italian basil will work. Since the variety of basil I’m growing is called Party Pesto, I had no choice but to find a recipe that lives up to its promise.

Pesto isn’t rocket science, unless you’re doing it by hand the Italian grandmother way - which you might have guessed I’ve tried a few times. I was determined to prove to myself that I could create as fine and smooth a sauce as the Nonna I was watching on YouTube and it was a fun knife skills test, albeit a bit messy. I was hoping not only for bragging rights, but also a knock-your-socks-off condiment that proved by-hand was better. The Nonna said it takes practice - which I presumed was an exaggeration - but she was not making that up.

Pesto recipes are a dime a dozen, and most are basically the same. Sure, maybe one uses almonds instead of pine nuts, and the amount of oil varies, but they all start with two cups of basil, and very few include anything that can be called dramatically different.

You know how I feel about anything lemon. I wasn’t looking for anything different, I was just looking for effortless and the best tasting, but when I found a recipe that added two whole teaspoons of juice, I knew I had to give it a whirl. Literally, in the food processor, since there was no way I was ever attempting it by hand again.

It couldn’t be simpler. The Fluicer is your juicer. Wash, then pack the basil leaves in a measuring cup as tightly as fans in a mosh pit. Add everything except the basil, oil, and cheese to the food processor, pulsing and scraping, until you have a nubby paste-like texture. After the basil is added and broken down, the oil is drizzled in.

After you pulse in the cheese, it’s up to you to decide if you’d prefer it thinner or smoother. We like it creamy and thick, the creamier the better, but if you don’t, add a tad more oil a little at a time.

The lemon acts as a catalyst, the same way it does when squeezed on top of fish: it enhances and brightens the flavor and provides a subtle counterpoint to the main ingredient. Toss the pesto with lemon spaghetti, as we like to do, and you’re in pesto nirvana. Basil fettuccine with pesto? That works too, if a little green. Grilled sourdough with burrata and basil is a classic for a reason, but using this pesto instead of basil takes it over the top. Add a dollop of pesto to a bowl of soup and you’ll find yourself in pesto paradise.

Everything regular pesto can do, this can do better. That’s most definitely a reason to party.

Lemon Basil Pesto adapted from Jeanine Donofrio / Love and Lemons

about ten minutes if you include picking the basil

Ingredients

• ½ cup roasted almonds

• 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

• 1 small clove garlic

• ¼ teaspoon fine sea salt

• ¼ teaspoon lemon pepper

• 2 cups packed basil leaves

• ¼ cup olive oil, plus more if desired

• ¼ cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese

Directions

1. Combine almonds, lemon juice, garlic, salt, and lemon pepper in the bowl of a food processor and pulse until well chopped.

2. Add the basil and pulse until combined.

3. With the food processor running, drizzle in the olive oil and pulse until well combined. Add the Parmesan cheese and pulse briefly to combine.

4. For a smoother pesto, drizzle in a little more oil.

Pesto keeps well in the refrigerator in an airtight container, and the easiest way I’ve found to somewhat mitigate the inevitable browning is to push a piece of saran against the top layer of the pesto before sealing the container. It will still brown, but it’s easier to mix in and disguise that way.

I like to freeze it in mini ice cube trays. Once frozen, transfer to a Ziploc bag. They live happily in the freezer until right before the next pesto season, when we use up what’s left in a pesto palooza.

Cream Of Eat Lemon Basil Pesto

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Inside the Pantry

While this recipe will be delicious when made as outlined above, below are some of the specialty items I use that take it up a notch:

• Fluicer

• Roasted almonds

• Lemon Pepper

• Oxo mini measuring cup

• Oxo steel angled jigger

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If you’re enjoying this, would you take a second to hit the ❤️ button at the bottom of this newsletter? It helps spread the word and makes me and the algorithm (since now I’m going to have to pay attention to that) happy!

Pre-Pandemic I would have happily pulled out the butter and not given it a second thought, since the call of the plums is impossible to resist. Post-Pandemic, in my newfound olive oil spirituality, I thought the best I could do was to roast the plums or make a crisp and call it a day. But all that changed the day I saw this recipe – a classic Italian dessert called Torta di Prugne e Mandorle – since it’s made with oil.

One of the things I love about plum cake recipes is how unspecific they are about the size of the plums. I know I have to fill the pan, but it’s open season as to what geometry I use to do that. It gives a certain artistic license, because I know that even if I stuff in too many, I’ll basically be making jam, so I want to put in as many as I can.

I like to use a mixture of colors for the sheer visual pleasure I get from creating a multi-colored palate on the top of the batter. Maybe it’s that architectural degree, but I’ve never forgotten that we eat with our eyes as much as our mouths.

I know I’ve said the olive oil recipes are easy, but this one is really easy. It took longer to cut and pit the plums than to weigh the ingredients for the bowl of wet and the bowl of dry. Whisk and mix, and channel your inner artist when placing the cut side up plums on top of the batter. Drop dollops of the almond-butter mixture on top, and then into the oven for the magic to begin.

It’s a sleight of hand that the plums and the batter change places while cooking– the plums and topping sink deep into the cake while the batter ends up on top. It becomes a gorgeous deep brown as it cooks, and the jammy plums begin percolating around the perimeter.

It smells divine out of the oven, perfuming the room with the scent of summer. The only problem I ever encountered was the challenge of moving it off the springform pan base and onto a platter without the cake breaking in pieces, so that time I left it on the springform to cool. And made a note to self: next time use baking release spray instead of oil to grease the bottom of the springform pan.

It isn’t always the prettiest presentation, since it’s not that easy to get a slice intact onto a plate, but what it lacks in ease of presentation, it more than makes up for in taste. The lemon and plum meld to form a jammy, sweet-tart mix enhanced by the lightly lemony dough. The crisp crust is like a gift, and I’m not sure which taste I wanted more of - I only knew we couldn’t stop eating it.

If you have to be addicted to something, it might as well be plum cake.

Plum Almond Cake adapted from David Leite

About an hour and a half

Ingredients

• 120 grams all-purpose flour

• 55 grams almond flour

• 2 teaspoons baking powder

• ¼ teaspoon fine sea salt

• ½ cup sunflower or other mild vegetable oil

• 1 large egg

• ½ cup half-and-half, 2% milk, or whole milk

• Zest and juice of 1 lemon

• 200 grams granulated sugar

• ¼ teaspoon almond extract

• 2 tablespoons granulated sugar

• 7 to 9 plums, any variety, halved and pitted but not peeled

• 30 grams sliced raw almonds

• 28 grams unsalted butter, at room temperature or melted

Directions

1. Heat oven to 375 degrees and spray an 9-inch springform pan with baking release spray.

2. Whisk together the flour, almond flour, baking powder and salt in a large bowl.

3. In a medium bowl, smush the lemon zest into the sugar using your fingers until it resembles wet sand. Add the oil, egg, milk or half-and-half, lemon juice, 200 grams sugar, and almond extract and whisk until well combined.

4. Add the liquid ingredients to the flour mixture and whisk until just combined.

5. Scrape the batter into the prepared pan. Channeling your inner artist, arrange the plum halves, cut side up, atop the batter in whatever pattern strikes your fancy, as long as they don’t overlap.

6. Combine the almonds, 2 tablespoons sugar, and butter in a small bowl and mix well. Dot the topping over the cake.

7. Bake about 45 minutes, until the top is golden brown and a tester inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean.

8. Transfer the pan to a wire rack and let cool for 20 minutes. Remove the outer ring from the pan and slide the cake onto a serving platter. Cut into wedges and serve warm if you can’t wait or room temperature if you can.

The cake can be stored covered in plastic or in an airtight container or cake carrier for up to 3 days. The longer it sits, the wetter it becomes.

For freezing, cool completely, wrap well in plastic and freeze up to 3 months in a freezer Ziploc bag. But I suggest you eat it!

Cream Of Eat Plum Almond Cake

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Inside the Pantry

While this recipe will be delicious when made as outlined above, below are some of the specialty items I use that take it up a notch:

• Microplane zester

• Fluicer

• Almond flour

• Springform pan

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The truth is, there’s not much to say

About a great cake release spray

That hasn’t already been said

By those who’ve been led

Astray by the old guard

Whose spray makes it hard

To release the most delicate loaf

Without cursing like an oaf.

If you’ve been down that road

You’re happy to pen an ode

To a spray that defies wishes

And makes it easy to clean dishes.

There’s no need to flour

And waste that dusting hour

Since cakes come out cleanly

Even Bundts who formerly meanly

Required a fork or plastic knife

While happily taking years off your life

When all you wanted was a cake

That looks effortless to make

Or chocolate cookies that peel

Off parchment paper without zeal.

That’s why I stock a few

And order at least two.

It’s like parking a new car:

Some wouldn’t get very far

With no default backup aid,

And since cakes need to be made

It’s not a maybe, it’s a must.

This is one item that won’t gather dust.

Inside the pantry

• King Arthur Everbake

• Bak-Klene ZT

The world seems awash in them right now, as if the humble chickpea were Superman, swooping in to save the day. Consider, though, that although Superman seems to respond impulsively, he always has an altruistic end goal in mind.

So it is with the humble chickpea, which shouldn’t be regarded as humble any longer. Need some protein for lunch and don’t have time to roast a bird? Send in the chickpea. Need a snack that won’t put on the pounds but doesn’t taste like cardboard? Send in the roasted chickpea with pepper, paprika and garlic powder. Run out of tofu and want to supplement your soup? You guessed it.

This recipe is, in a word, brilliant. So simple, so I-wish-I-had-thought-of-that. Hetty Lui McKinnon is one of the queens of vegetable recipes, and there is never a dull moment when she’s creating. Since her inspiration was Spaghetti al Limone, a pasta dish in our regular rotation, it was without question that this was added to the repertoire. And when an ingredient receives as much press as aquafaba – that’s the brine the chickpeas are floating in, not the actor/rapper/comedian -- I couldn’t turn away.

Lemon sauce and lemony chickpeas are the only components of this dish. What makes the lemony chickpeas so special is that they are created from the aquafaba that you’d normally be draining off and throwing away (unless you were baking with it or substituting it for eggs or oil, neither of which I’ve done yet so I can’t weigh in here). The stroke of brilliance is boiling the aquafaba to reduce and thicken it, so that after the zest is added it becomes its own lemon jus - a lemon sauce that gets added to another lemon sauce, you could say.

The other sauce is similar to one used for lemon spaghetti, down to the technique of mixing it in the bowl. When I was learning to make lemon spaghetti it took me a few times to properly nail the muscle memory of gradually adding spaghetti to sauce instead of adding sauce to spaghetti: The former method coats every strand, while the latter has a tendency to lay on top of the spaghetti. The process with the chickpeas is the same: slowly adding them to the mixed sauce while stirring thoroughly, until the cheese has melted and everything has emulsified. Then it’s time to decide how you’re going to serve it.

Burrata or fresh mozzarella on top, scattered with basil leaves like a flower girl gone wild at a wedding, is a lovely complement. Since there already is a generous helping of cheese in the chickpeas, on many occasions we forgo adding more and eat it very simply over jasmine rice. The grains become infused with the lemon as they soak up the sauce, and it makes it even harder to exercise portion control and not eat like it’s your last meal. It’s also divine on toasted sourdough, but a fork may be necessary to nab slippery runaway chickpeas.

And when we’re talking about six degrees of leftovers separation - which we will be in the future - it is sublime mixed with leftover couscous mixed with leftover sautéed fennel mixed with the rice. So impossible to stop eating that we are actually considering making everything in advance and just eating it as leftovers.

And, as with Superman, once it’s gone all you can think about is your next sighting.

Chickpeas al Limone adapted from Hetty Lui McKinnon

About 25 minutes

Ingredients

• ¼ cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (from 1 or 2 lemons)

• 1 cup finely grated Parmesan

• ¼ cup olive oil plus 1 tablespoon

• ½ teaspoon lemon pepper

• 1 garlic clove, finely chopped

• 3 (15-ounce) cans chickpeas, undrained

• 1 tablespoon lemon zest

Directions

1. Add the lemon juice, Parmesan, ¼ cup olive oil and lemon pepper to a large bowl and mix to combine.

2. Heat a deep, medium-sized skillet or pot over medium-high heat. When hot, add 1 tablespoon olive oil and quickly sauté the garlic for 15 to 30 seconds until fragrant.

3. Stir in the chickpeas and their aquafaba (brine), then bring to a boil. Let the chickpeas and brine bubble rapidly for about 8 to 10 minutes, until they have reduced and thickened.

4. Reduce heat to low, add the lemon zest and stir for one minute. Remove from heat.

5. Add the chickpea mixture to the bowl and stir continuously until the cheese has melted and the sauce is thick but still loose. Taste and season with more lemon pepper and salt if needed.

6. Serve as is on top of rice or couscous, or topped with torn burrata and basil leaves, or smeared across toasted sourdough bread. Or just grab a spoon and eat with relish.

Cream Of Eat Chickpeas Al Limone

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Inside the Pantry

While this recipe will be delicious when made as outlined above, below are some of the specialty items I use that take it up a notch:

• Microplane zester

• Fluicer

• Chickpeas

• Microplane fine cheese grater

When we’re dining at a restaurant and the waiter politely asks my husband how he would like his salmon cooked, he always answers 130 degrees.

Most times, the waiter will stand at attention, poised but clearly confused, and, after an uncomfortable moment of silence will say, “Excuse me?” But every so often we’ll get someone in the know, a glint in their eye, and they’ll nod and write it down with a smile. When a chef near Zion National Park delightedly came out of the kitchen to meet the person behind the order, what followed was a lovely conversation - with a hand gesture we have since adopted - about how he likes his fish still swimming.

I promise you it’s not some weird cult. Obviously, they know, like we do, that if you aren’t cooking your proteins by temperature, you might as well be at the card table with a bad hand.

The average cake or cupcake is done between 200 and 209 degrees, but I haven’t experimented enough to render a verdict so I am still using the simple cake tester method most of the time (when I checked, the lemon blueberry muffins were done at 209 degrees). I can recite by heart what temperature we like our swordfish neck (130 degrees), our pork chops (145 degrees) and our chicken (165 degrees in the breast). That’s because, once you start cooking with a thermometer - like baking in grams - there’s no turning back. You commit those numbers to memory like your birthday. And, like your birthday, they never change.

There’s no more pressing the burger with your finger - regardless of whether chefs swear by it, chances are they are no longer sensate because of pressing said finger against hot food. No more waiting for the blood to come up through the meat and trying to determine if that’s enough blood so that it’s rare, or whether that’s too much blood and you should have taken the steak off five minutes ago - even if that’s how your uncle did it. We all know the ten-minutes-to-the-inch fish rule, but it’s so much easier to guarantee a mouthful of sweet, flaky flounder if the thermometer says 130 degrees. And trust me, salmon by eye rarely comes out medium rare, because by the time you gauge what you think is perfect, it no longer has that lovely dark orange interior.

For this you need a good thermometer, and I’m not talking about the ones you get at the hardware or grocery store. If you haven’t figured out by now that I’m a firm believer in not just good but great tools whenever possible, then maybe it’s time to do some rereading.

Thermoworks thermometers have nestled in my kitchen drawers for years, and the Thermapen One - which we have stashed at every location where we cook - is their best yet.

It delivers precise temperature readings in less than a second and is accurate to a half degree temperature range. The probe only needs to be inserted as far as the thermal center of the food, which turns out to be slightly shallower than where you think the center is. Meaning it barely needs to go into the protein to give you the answer. That it comes in multiple colors, has an auto-rotating display with a backlight, is waterproof, and is used by chefs worldwide, would be meaningless if it wasn’t a great tool.

The ThermoWorks TimeStack provides the perfect solution. It sits tall on a steady base with four independent timers, a numeric keypad, and big, easy to read numbers that flash when the time is up. The cake, fish, and vegetables can each trigger a different alarm, so if you remember their sequential order in the rows, you can recognize each alarm without stopping to look. But my absolute favorite feature is the ability to record your own voice alarm. If you could see the delight on my husband’s face when I pop out to the balcony with the timer, both of us listening to it declaring, in my most eloquent pronunciation, “SEVVVVVen minutes!,” you’d truly understand the joy this feature brings us every time.

And I would never consider baking 2000 holiday cookies without multiple timers - just imagining the juggling is exhausting. It would be a disaster if I confused baking time with chilling time - not like that would ever happen - but I foresee massive confusion ahead if cookies were chilling while a cake was in the oven and I was using only one timer. My baking method is to assign the top row of the TimeStack to cake, so there is never confusion. Multiple cookies on the rows below are assigned Post-Its during cookie season.

If you prefer different models, we’ve used the Smoke Remote, but not the ThermoDrop, the ThermaQ 2, or the DOTs. Let’s not forget the ThermoPop 2, which is a thermometer’s version of the nerd’s pen in the chest pocket. I like to wear the TimeStick Trio, a triple timer, around my neck while I multitask around the house and back yard. Just remember that there’s a magnet on the back or you’ll be mysteriously drawn to something you forgot was metal outside, like the table you’re setting for lunch. We switched to the WAND non-contact forehead thermometer during the pandemic, and if you can call using a thermometer fun, this is the one.

I haven’t tried it yet, but you can even get a silicone, magnetic, glow-in-the-dark protective boot for the ThermaPen One, protecting you and the thermometer from drops on the concrete when cooking at night. It can also be worn around your neck, which is exactly how you’ll want to hang yourself if you use the ThermaPen One and still overcook your food.

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Inside the Pantry

• Thermapen One

• TimeStack

• TimeStick Trio

• WAND non-contact thermometer

• Thermapen One silicone boot

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So when Amanda endorses a recipe as her go-to that can be whipped up anywhere, and it blows up the internet, AND it’s with stone fruit, she’s got my attention.

One of the many wonderful things about this recipe is how easy it is to make and how it adapts to any fruit on hand. I’ve made it with apples (note: use vanilla instead of almond extract), plums, peaches, pears and nectarines, and have been seriously thinking about how to make it work with cranberries or maybe cherries. It’s that kind of recipe -- once you make it, you’ll start thinking of what else you can fill it with.

Get the best fruit you can find, since the fruit is absolutely the star. If you can pick the fruit yourself, find an orchard and go. There’s nothing like biting into that first peach of the season, when you’ve picked it yourself, and relishing in the juices running down your chin.

Walk at least ten rows deep, so you’re surrounded by trees and can no longer see the road. Walk around each tree to decide which to pick from and which to taste, as the taste from tree to tree is not always the same. If I’m picking peaches or nectarines, I usually go for a rosy blush covering most of the fruit, with a little give when you gently press on it but still firm and on the harder side, so it’s got a day or two before it’s fully ripe.

If you’re picking peaches or nectarines, make all attempts to find freestone fruit. It’s got to be freestone no matter what, since you don’t want to give up one dribble of that precious juice when you’re slicing them for the tart. Nectarines are spectacular in this tart, so it’s a good thing the orchard I go to grows all of the above.

The minimal mixing produces a very short crust, and over the hundreds of times I’ve made it, I’ve come up with a system. I start patting in the perimeter crust first, and when I’ve completed the circle, I then gradually work the bottom crust out to meet it using my fingers and sometimes my palm. It’s a lovely tactile bonding moment, if you like playing with your food as much as I do, and it was just as easy before carpal tunnel surgery as it is after.

I’m firmly in camp Don’t Peel, except for apples. Adding a tablespoon of flour to the fruit helps settle the juices a bit, and makes the tart a bit more solid and easier to cut once cool. Chilling the topping while arranging the fruit makes it easier to sprinkle without the warmth of your fingers melting the butter.

Set the timer, put on the oven light, and watch the show begin. As the fruit starts to soften and the crust begins to brown you’ll see the first bubbles poking through the topping, tentatively at first, then an assertive full blown symphony of burbling.

You’ll want to eat it immediately, but listen to Amanda and wait for it to cool down a bit. The combination of soft succulent fruit and delicate crust will make you so happy - there’s just no better way to put it. The crust melts into your mouth and the topping melds with the fruit so it feels like you’re barely chewing. My only complaint is how fast it seems to disappear once we start eating it.

This tart is best the day it’s made, since the crust absorbs all the fruits’ moisture the second day. If that’s not the perfect excuse to eat the whole thing, tell me a better one!

Fruit Tart adapted from Amanda Hesser

About an hour, plus a few extra minutes trying to decide which fruit to use

Ingredients

Tart shell

• 180 grams all-purpose flour

• ½ teaspoon kosher salt

• 1 teaspoon granulated sugar

• ¼ cup canola oil

• ¼ cup mild olive oil

• 2 tablespoons milk (whole or 2%)

• ½ teaspoon almond extract

Filling

• 3 to 5 small ripe stone fruit, pears, or apples, pitted and sliced per fruit options note below

• 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour, if needed

Topping

• 100 grams granulated sugar

• 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

• ¼ teaspoon kosher salt

• 2 tablespoons cold, unsalted butter, cut into thin slices

Directions

1. Heat oven to 425 degrees.

To make the tart shell and fruit:

2. Whisk together the flour, salt and sugar in a medium bowl. In a separate small bowl, whisk together the oils, milk and almond extract.

3. Pour the oil mixture into the flour mixture and mix gently with a fork just enough to dampen it. DO NOT OVERWORK IT.

4. Transfer the dough to an 10-inch tart pan with a removable bottom. I find a deep-dish tart pan is easier to control the height of the sides of the crust. Use your hands and palms to pat and spread the dough so it covers the bottom of the pan, leaving a thicker perimeter to push up for about an inch to form the sides. To prevent a thick piece at that intersection I like to push my index finger sideways into the place where the bottom and sides meet (or use my thumbs), and even out the thickness by pressing upwards if the sides need more or towards the middle if the bottom does. The important part is having an even thickness and the bottom completely covered.

5. Refrigerate the dough, uncovered, while slicing the fruit and making the topping.

6. Slice the fruit per below and toss with 1 tablespoon of additional flour if it’s juicy. Set aside.

To make the topping:

7. In the same bowl you used to make the shell, combine sugar, flour, salt and butter. Using your fingers, pinch the butter into the dry ingredients until crumbly, so that you have a mixture of fine granules and tiny pebbles. Put in the refrigerator, uncovered, while assembling the tart.

Assembling the tart:

8. Starting on the outside, arrange the peaches in a circle around the perimeter of the tart pan, slightly overlapping each other. The fruit should fit snugly, and I like to make sure all the thinner ends of the slices point to the center (it’s prettier that way). Fill in the center with whatever pattern fits the space and and amount of peaches left. If needed, squeeze an extra one or two into the circle.

9. Sprinkle the topping generously over the top. It will look like way too much but won’t end up that way.

10. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, depending on the fruit, checking at 20 minutes to make sure the crust isn’t getting too brown. The fruit should be burbling and bubbling and the crust a caramel color. Cool on a rack, and serve warm or room temperature. I love whipped cream, but this tart doesn’t need it.

Amanda has made this on a baking sheet with one side shored up with aluminum foil, and, when she’s on vacation without a bowl, has mixed it right in the pan (I haven’t gone that route yet).The rule of thumb is, if it’s good enough to eat raw, it will be perfect in this recipe.

A plethora of fruit options:

• Apples, preferably tart ones, peeled and cut into ¼ inch slices, tossed in ½ teaspoon cinnamon and 1 tablespoon flour. Use ¼ teaspoon vanilla powder OR ½ teaspoon vanilla extract INSTEAD of almond extract. It will take closer to 35 minutes to bake but check earlier if your slices are thin.

• Plums, each half cut into 4 slices, tossed with ¼ teaspoon cinnamon and 1 tablespoon flour. Bake closer to 35 minutes.

• Comice or Bartlett pears, unpeeled, cut in quarters, tossed with 1 tablespoon flour. Bake closer to 35 minutes.

• Nectarines or peaches, unpeeled, sliced about ½ inch wide, tossed with 1 tablespoon flour. Bake for 20-25 minutes.

• 6-8 Apricots, cut in quarters, tossed with 1 tablespoon flour. Bake for 25 minutes.

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Cream Of Eat Fruit Tart

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Inside the Pantry

• Rosti Margrethe Stainless Steel Mixing Bowl set

• GIR Whisk

• 10 inch tart pan

• Oxo mini measuring cup

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Which is one of the reasons we pivoted years ago to making Crab Imperial, the lazy man’s baked crab cake. That, and the fact that we love using our tiny Staub casserole dishes (on sale at Home Goods!) so we can each have individual portions with our own crispy bits. I do, however, make a frying exception using a good splatter screen for soft shell crabs, because soft shell crabs. IFKYK.

Let me set the scene: dinner for five a few weeks ago. I was preparing the mise en place for the usual Crab Imperial, the Staub casseroles lined up on baking sheets (when I say we stalk Home Goods waiting for more minis to show up I am not exaggerating). My sister and I were talking about how good the crab cakes are at a local restaurant we love, so good that once physically seated I am compelled to order them, regardless of what the specials are.

In my mind crab cakes have always equaled frying, and I’ve never let my mind think otherwise. It was while we were talking that I realized the restaurant bakes the crab cakes - and since I hadn’t started mixing yet, it was time to pivot. The Crab Imperial recipe on its own is delicious - but subtle - and I was aiming for more interest. I decided that combining the Imperial recipe with the basics of a Maryland crab cake would create a mashup that had one foot in each camp.

The most subversive thing I did was change the flavor profile: removing the signature Maryland taste by getting rid of the Worcestershire sauce and Old Bay and subbing in Riviera Herbs, a mixture containing rosemary, basil, mint and thyme. I used slightly more filler than usual in a combination of both panko and fresh breadcrumbs; the fresh breadcrumbs for a lighter, tastier feel. I kept both the mayonnaise and egg since it needed to stick together without ceramic support.

Once everything is mixed, it’s scoop and go. The #16 scoop is the perfect size if you’re figuring on two per person and allows for either seconds or leftovers, depending on how many you’re feeding. Since the crab is already cooked, you’re basically baking just the egg and mayonnaise so it’s a quick turnaround in the oven. I was debating whether I should zap them with the broiler at the end to improve the browning on top but figured the risk of drying them out wasn’t worth it.

The lightly crisped parts give just enough textural difference to enhance the creamy crab underneath. Mustard and lemon juice provide a one-two punch against the mellow parsley, and the crab taste is pure and clean, its sweetness highlighted by the herbs. There was no need for a bun, since delicately working through the mound was playful eating, and it would feel like a crime to smash them.

The conundrum is, as usual, how to stop eating them. It’s the quintessential two scoops or three - the same as for our favorite ice cream - and you can guess which we choose. Unless you’re my sister, whose capacity puts us all to shame.

Not Necessarily Maryland Crab Cakes adapted from Sam Merritt and Serious Eats

about 40 minutes

Ingredients

approx. 8 cakes // approx. 15 cakes

• 1 pound // 2 pounds crab meat, special or lump

• ¼ cup // ½ cup mayonnaise

• 1 egg // 2 eggs

• 1 ½ tablespoons // 3 tablespoons Dijon mustard

• 1 teaspoon // 2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice, plus the zest from 1 lemon // 1 ½ large lemons

• ½ teaspoon // 1 teaspoon Riviera Herbs (or Herbes de Provence)

• 1 ½ teaspoons // 3 teaspoons finely chopped flat-leaf parsley

• ½ teaspoon // 1 teaspoon lemon pepper

• ¼ cup // ½ cup panko

• ¼ cup // ½ cup fresh* breadcrumbs

• Butter to top cakes and grease non-stick foil

Directions

1. Heat oven to 450 degrees. Line a baking sheet with nonstick foil and grease with butter.

2. Whisk together mayonnaise, eggs, mustard, lemon juice and zest, Riviera Herbs, parsley, and lemon pepper in a large bowl.

3. Combine panko and fresh breadcrumbs in a small bowl.

4. Add crabmeat and panko mixture to the wet mixture, using a spatula to gently mix without breaking up the crabmeat. Try to keep larger pieces intact.

5. Using the #16 scoop, scoop crabmeat onto the buttered baking sheet and position to create rows of three cakes, taking care not to flatten the cakes. For the larger recipe, I use an additional 1/8 sheet for the extra cakes instead of crowding the full-size sheet. If any stray crabmeat escapes, gently push it back into the mound with your fingers or the scoop.

6. Top each crab cake with a small piece of butter in the center. At this point cakes can be covered with plastic wrap and chilled for up to 24 hours if needed before baking.

7. Bake for 10 minutes, until heated through and slightly brown on the edges; if you’d like them slightly browner cook for a few minutes longer, but don’t overcook or they could dry out. They are just as delightful heated as leftovers.

*To make fresh breadcrumbs, put chunks of stale bread in the food processor with the steel blade and process until you have a rough mixture of small and slightly larger crumbs. Crumbs can be stored in the freezer in an airtight bag or container for a really long time.

Cream Of Eat Not Necessarily Maryland Crab Cakes

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Inside the Pantry

While this recipe will be delicious when made as outlined above, below are some of the specialty items I use that take it up a notch:

• Phillips Lump Crabmeat (Costco and Instacart carry it in a container with a purple band and slightly different wording)

• Dijon mustard

• Riviera Herbs

• Lemon pepper

• Microplane zester

• Fluicer

• #16 scooop

• #16 scoop (Oxo)

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What makes Key Lime Pie a favorite of so many boils down to the pucker factor. There’s something about a delicious lip-smacking citrus dessert that almost defies explanation. It’s infinitely satisfying and crave-worthy like few other desserts can be.

The only sweetness even remotely in the vicinity should be whipped cream. And, frankly, it’s not strictly mandatory, and I’m saying that as someone who used to eat a pint of whipped cream for a snack (otherwise known as the good old days). A good KLP will stand on its own, although I do admit it elevates the pleasure enormously when you have the contrast between the sweet, ethereal cream and the sublimely tangy custard filling.

There are a lot of Key Lime Pie recipes out there with very few differences between them, but no matter whose you pick, the main ingredient is the most important. You can use Nellie & Joe’s – that famous key lime juice from Florida – like I used to do, or you can search out fresh key limes depending on where you live and if your Whole Foods has them. Or you can save a bundle of your hard-earned cash and time and just use regular (Persian) limes like I do 99% of the time, now that I have a Fluicer to get out every last drop. Whatever you choose, I shouldn’t have to tell you not to even consider using anything that comes in a lime-shaped container.

With so few ingredients in the filling, there are a few things you don’t need: sour cream, yogurt, cream cheese (I know, a travesty) or anything else besides the egg yolks, condensed milk, lime juice, lime zest, and a pinch of kosher salt.

The crust allows room for play. Graham cracker is de rigeur and homemade is always the best, but if you’re in a rush and can forgive yourself for the corn syrup and additives I’ve had great success with Keebler, especially since they make a 10-inch size. If you’re going homemade, Sally’s Baking Addiction likes the tropical touch of Macadamia nuts, while a friend of mine likes to add in ½ cup of ground walnuts. Bon Appetit adds in virgin coconut oil, but that doesn’t appeal to me, so I just make it without it. In my opinion, the crust shouldn’t have so much texture that you feel like you’re cutting it with your fork, as opposed to gently separating it from the next forkful.

If you’re making the crust by hand I highly recommend using the Fat Daddio pie pan, and the easiest method is to press in the crust with your fingers, then use a measuring cup to tamp down the bottom and keep the sides even. Blind bake it until set, and then you’re ready to fill.

The next steps are joyfully simple: beating the egg yolks and condensed milk (never failing to marvel as they increase in volume), whisking in the zest, juice and salt, and pouring the filling into the cooled shell. The hardest part of this recipe is transferring the pie pan to the half sheet and sliding the half sheet into the oven without any key lime overboard.

Bake it between 15 to 20 minutes so that the center still jiggles slightly, and err on the side of less baking time, since it will firm up a little more as it cools. If it doesn’t jiggle it’s not a crisis; it will still taste good but the texture will be better if it’s not so firm.

Let it cool enough to refrigerate, then refrigerate for at least a few hours before digging in. There is a big difference in taste between not completely chilled and chilled, and you are bound to regret it if you give in to temptation. Trust me, key lime pie that’s “almost cool”or “needs a few more minutes to chill” is not good. Would you rather eat a mediocre slice and wish you waited another day, or wait a few more hours and eat it when it’s spectacular? This is built-in time to chill a bowl in the freezer for the whipped cream if you’re indulging. I’m pretty much a purist here, almost always refusing to add anything to fresh whipped cream, but if you wanted to add a tablespoon of rum, for example, no one except me would complain.

This is, forks down, the perfect key lime pie, regular limes or not. The zest gives it that extra kiss of tart without distracting from the texture, hitching a ride on the smooth, silky custard that seems to dissolve in your mouth. It’s the perfect balance of sweet-tart, and very difficult to eat slowly. There are few other desserts that can transport you to a warm beach as quickly and refreshingly as this one.

Brainstorming over the cookie holidays with my nephew’s wife (My sister-in-nephew? Niece-in-law?) about using the Grasmere Gingerbread as the crust for pies got my creative juices flowing. It’s way too crisp for a regular pie, but it might be an inspired combination for mini key lime tartlets, something that’s eaten in one or two bites. Or maybe I just add some finely chopped ginger to the regular crust recipe, purity be damned. Stay tuned.

As my old school friend Mies van der Rohe used to say, less is more. Meaning, once it’s gone, make another one.

BA’S Best Key Lime Pie adapted from Bon Appetit

about 45 minutes before chilling

Crust Ingredients OR Use a Keebler 10-inch crust like I most often do because it’s fast

• 14 graham crackers (about 1 ½ sleeves approx. 1 ½ cups)

• 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

• 2 tablespoons granulated sugar

• ½ teaspoon kosher salt

Filling Ingredients

• 4 large egg yolks

• 1 14-ounce can Sweetened Condensed Milk

• 1 tablespoon finely grated lime zest

• ¾ cup fresh key lime (or regular lime) juice

• Pinch of kosher salt

Topping Ingredients* OR Freshly made whipped cream, use the whole container

• 1 cup heavy cream

• ¼ cup powdered sugar

• 1 cup Greek yogurt

• 1 tablespoon dark rum (optional)

  *I don’t often add a topping, but when I do, it’s a delight

Directions

1. Heat oven to 325 degrees. If you’re not making the crust, start with #4.

2. Using your hands, crush graham crackers in a large bowl until coarsely ground. Add butter, sugar and salt and mix until well blended and resembles wet sand.

3. Transfer to a 9-inch pie dish. Using your fingers and a measuring cup, press evenly into bottom and up the sides. Bake, rotating once halfway through, until golden brown on top and crumbs are set, 12 to 15 minutes. Set on a rack to cool.

4. Beat egg yolks and condensed milk with a stand mixer on medium speed until pale and almost doubled in volume, about 5 minutes. Whisk in zest, juice and salt until combined.

5. Pour into (cooled or purchased) crust and bake until filling is starting to slightly puff around the edges and the center jiggles slightly, 15 to 20 minutes. This is not an exact science, and I find erring on the side of one minute longer is more of a safeguard against ultimately not being completely set.

6. Let cool on a rack, and chill in the refrigerator at least half a day and preferably overnight.

7. In a large bowl or stand mixer, whip cream and powdered sugar until soft peaks form. Gradually whisk in yogurt and rum, if using. Or, open the container of heavy cream and whip until soft peaks. Or, eat as is without topping, like we usually do, which makes it almost health food.

Cream Of Eat Key Lime Pie

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Inside the Pantry

While this recipe will be delicious when made as outlined above, below are some of the specialty items I use that take it up a notch:

• Dreamfarm The Fluicer

• Microplane Premium Series Citrus zester

• Fat Daddio’s pie pan

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I don’t even remember why I was on Kickstarter that day in 2012, since I didn’t usually nose around there in those days. But there was something about the ladle, and the origin story, that made me want to lend my support. Samantha Rose, frustrated with her drawer full of mediocre spatulas, took matters into her own hands and designed the Ultimate Spatula, the world’s first all-silicone spatula. The Ladle and Spoonula were next, and when she described the ladle as “the most thoughtfully designed product they’d ever made,” I was on the hook. I own the Spoonula, too, of course, but that’s old news.

I have to confess, I’m a sucker for good design. It’s not only my architectural background; I’ve always loved it. The thought behind it, the brainstorming (especially the brainstorming), the brilliant end result. Everything about it interests me and always will.

Deconstructing this ladle was fascinating. It has a flexible front edge that conforms to any pot or bowl, literally squishing against the side of it to reach every last drop of whatever is in there, due to the geometry of the scoop and the angle of the handle. Seems so obvious, doesn’t it? It’s heat-resistant to 425 degrees, microplastic-free, and dishwasher safe. The fact that it also pours well was gravy, pun intended.

I decided to take a chance on it because if it was as good as it sounded, it was going to change my world, at least in the kitchen. It was torture waiting for it to arrive, and I obsessively read Kickstarter updates and checked the calendar.

When I make Jane’s chili (stay tuned) it’s a leisurely process. Since I’m aiming for a thick sauce, I cook it low and slow for two hours after it boils, checking in every twenty or so minutes to give it a stir. You can understand how frustrating it’s always been to try to get every last drop out of the bottom of the stockpot. I knew it would be a great test for the Ladle’s trial run, but I really wasn’t expecting it to deliver as well as it did. Not only did it cleanly scrape the sides of the pot clean, it was ridiculously simple to do so. It does what it looks like it should -- pushes up against the side of the bowl, changes shape to pick everything up easily, then bounces right back. And does it again.

Same thing for Red Lentil soup (stay tuned). And Roasted Tomato soup (ditto). And what our family has always called Hamburger Scramble, which I won’t dignify with a recipe, but will say that you need to get a lot of ground meat out of a large saucepan.

The takeaway? All I could think was, it’s fabulous, and I wish I had designed this.

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Inside the Pantry

• GIR Ladle

Cream of Eat: A celebration of good food, olive oil baking, and my much-coveted list. Served with a peek into my life.

We are regulars at an orchard that’s the picture postcard for pick-your-own fruit. During the stone fruit season it’s a riot of color: endless rows of green trees bursting with orange peaches, red blushed nectarines, a pop of purple plum, and colorful row markers rippling in the breeze. One of my favorite annual rituals is the pick-your-own taste test. If you’ve never done one, add that to your bucket list and make sure you’re wearing an appropriate tasting outfit: a tee shirt and shorts (or your bathing suit under shorts), flip flops (since juice can be sticky), and paper towels tucked into a shorts pocket to catch the juice running down your chin (instead of using your shirt).

Before picking anything we hobnob at the shed with Neal (who oversees the planting) to see what new varieties he recommends tasting. Then comes the hardest decision of the day, because we have our favorites: which tree, dripping with ripe fruit, to try first. I confess if there were a scientific method for this I’d share it, but it’s purely visual - and the most colorful and plentiful tree usually wins.

The first bite is always heavenly: the land, sky and nectarine (since it’s always a nectarine first) meeting in a moment of decadent bliss. But, as good as the first bite is (and if it’s really ripe and scrumptious, I have to take a few more bites before passing it to my husband), I can’t commit until I taste at least a few more varieties. Flitting from tree to tree taking bites is the closest I’ve come to experiencing the freedom of the birds watching our progress. I can’t think of another activity where the goal is to eat an unlimited amount of fruit in a short period of time within magnificent surroundings.

But the only thing really on my mind while I’m taking that first bite - aside from enjoying how ridiculously good it tastes - is the quantity I’ll need to pick for the first crisp of the season. Of course, I’m picking more than one crisp’s worth, but the first crisp is an important one, setting the tone for the season.

It’s not a stretch to say that many think that the best part of a fruit crisp is the topping, and I have to say that although I love the fruit inside, it’s that perfect combination of sweet and crunchy plus fruit that I’m after. When I say bad crisp, I’m not talking about the taste. If the fruit is good to eat raw, it will be good in a crisp.

I’m talking about dashed expectations: dreams of crunchy, caramelized bits of sugar, oats and nuts, and massive disappointment - for some even revulsion - when they find out, mid-spoon, too late to politely spit it out, that what they thought looked, well, crisp, is actually wet and pasty, having soaked up too much moisture from the fruit. Once you’ve had a mouthful of fruit enveloped in wet newspaper you’re not standing at the front of the line to do that again.

Melissa Clark always points out something that you wish you had thought of yourself.

It seems so obvious now, in hindsight, that the answer was in front of us all along: why not partially bake the topping separately, like blind-baking a crust, so it crisps up enough to stay that way? It’s a stroke of genius to assemble the crisp only after it’s firmed up, giving it a line of defense against the bubbling fruit. In my experience it’s almost failproof, producing the Norman Rockwell of crisps that we all dream of. Sure, there may be a few stragglers that go under, but it’s only a few and they’re usually on the sides.

Let’s talk about the topping for a minute. It’s made from all the usual suspects, but with an inspired suggestion-- to add cardamom, ginger, or allspice. I can attest that adding ground ginger from Burlap & Barrel takes it to a whole new level, an especially exciting counterpoint when your filling is stone fruit. I like it so much I haven’t even tried it with anything else, but I know I’m going to like it with cardamom when I can temporarily wrest myself away from the ginger. I confess I did tinker with the ingredients a little: she calls for melted butter, but with respect to the church of olive oil baking, I did my normal substitution. I’m happy to report that no one I’ve fed has been the wiser, unless of course they are reading this.

One summer weekend, determined to make space in the freezer well in advance of cookie season, and looking for another good use for the cranberries I had been hoarding since Thanksgiving (other than making Cranberry Kissel, which we’ll talk about later), I spontaneously decided to experiment. We were at my Mom’s with my sister and her husband, and I was looking for something different to bake for Sunday’s breakfast.

Julia Child’s Cranberry Crisp used to be one of my go-to Fall recipes, but her insistence on a top and bottom crust always resulted in a frustrating double whammy of sogginess. It was the perfect candidate for a makeover. The filling of cranberries, orange juice, sugar, apple cider, cinnamon and cream is first boiled down to thicken it so there’s no extra moisture to screw things up. I poured a double batch into a ceramic casserole dish and topped it with the crisp as usual. As the increasingly fragrant cranberry smell wafted through the house our excitement was building , until a gorgeous bubbling jewel came out of the oven. It was not the heavy Fall dish we were all anticipating – it was unexpectedly refreshing and light. And revelatory! As everyone who had seconds will tell you.

And I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you the best kept secret of this topping – it makes a great snack on its own. You can even sub it in for granola on yogurt, or, for a more decadent dessert, on ice cream. Or just grab a handful and enjoy.

This is a master recipe for all seasons, and it’s finally a crisp that lives up to its name. It works well with apples, pears, and berries too, but remember to add the cornstarch or it will defeat the purpose and turn into a soupy mess.

It doesn’t need any garnish, but no one will complain if you whip up some fresh cream. With or without air conditioning.

The Crunchiest Fruit Crisp adapted from Melissa Clark

about 2 hours give or take

Ingredients

Topping

• 190 grams all purpose flour

• 50 grams rolled oats

• 75 grams light brown sugar

• 65 grams granulated sugar

• ¼ teaspoon kosher salt

• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

• ½ teaspoon ground cardamom, ginger or allspice

• ¼ cup plus 2 tablespoons olive oil

Filling

• 2 to 5 tablespoons light brown or granulated sugar, depending on the sweetness of the fruit

• 2 tablespoons cornstarch

• 8 cups mixed berries (fresh or frozen), or sliced peaches, plums, nectarines, apricots, or pitted sweet cherries (or your choice of combination)

Directions

1. Heat oven to 350 degrees. Line a baking sheet with nonstick foil or parchment paper.

2. Make the topping: Whisk together the flour, oats, sugars, spices and salt in a large bowl.

3. Stir in the oil then, using your hands, squish the mixture in small clumps until coarse crumbs form. Some should be around ½ inch in size, some will be smaller.

4. Spread the topping in one layer onto a rimmed baking sheet. Bake until the crumbs are solid when you gently poke them and are fragrant, about 15 minutes. They won’t change appearance much so don’t be worried.

5. Transfer the baking sheet to a wire rack to cool while you make the filling.

6. Pick over and wash berries or fruit and place in an ungreased 2-quart gratin dish, a deep pie pan, or a 10-inch cake pan. Spoon the crumbs over the filling and place the baking dish on the same baking sheet used for the crumbs (this is to catch any overflowing juices).

7. Bake for 50 to 60 minutes, until the top is brown and the fruit on the edges is energetically bubbling. Cool for about 20 minutes before serving and ravenously digging in or serve at room temperature.

Crisp is best eaten on the day it’s made. It can be made up to 8 hours in advance and kept at room temperature. Leftovers can be warmed up briefly in a 350-degree oven. But my advice is to eat as much as you can on the first day, even if that means eating it for dinner.

Cream Of Eat Crunchiest Fruit Crisp

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Cranberry Crisp adapted from Melissa Clark and Julia Child

about 2 hours give or take

Ingredients

Topping

• 190 grams all purpose flour

• 50 grams rolled oats

• 75 grams light brown sugar

• 65 grams granulated sugar

• ¼ teaspoon kosher salt

• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

• ½ teaspoon ground cardamom, ginger or allspice

• ¼ cup plus 2 tablespoons olive oil

Filling

8-inch x 8-inch pan // 9-inch x 13-inch pan

• 440 grams cranberries (approx. small bag plus 3 ounces more) // 900 grams cranberries (approx. 1- 32-ounce bag)

• Zest and juice of 1 navel orange // Zest and juice of 2 navel oranges

• 150 grams sugar // 250 grams sugar

• ½ cup apple cider or juice // 1 cup apple cider or juice

• ½ teaspoon cinnamon // 1 teaspoon cinnamon

• ½ cup heavy cream // 1 cup heavy cream

Directions

1. Heat oven to 350 degrees. Line a baking sheet with nonstick foil or parchment paper.

2. Make the topping: Whisk together the flour, oats, sugars, spices and salt in a large bowl.

3. Stir in the oil then, using your hands, squish the mixture in small clumps until coarse crumbs form. Some should be around ½ inch in size, some will be smaller.

4. Spread the topping in one layer onto a rimmed baking sheet. Bake until the crumbs are solid when you gently poke them and are fragrant, about 15 minutes. They won’t change appearance much so don’t be worried.

5. Transfer the baking sheet to a wire rack to cool while you make the filling.

6. Use either an 8-inch x 8-inch pan for a normal sized recipe, or a 9-inch x 13-inch pan for a double recipe. Pick over and wash the cranberries and place them in a 3-quart saucepan for the smaller pan, a 5-6 quart saucepan for the larger pan.

7. Add the sugar to a small bowl. Zest the orange(s) into the bowl and smush with your fingers until it resembles the texture of wet sand.

8. Add this to the cranberries, along with the juice of the orange(s), the cider or juice, and the cinnamon, and stir to combine.

9. Bring to a boil over medium heat and cook until most of the cranberries have burst, stirring occasionally.

10. Slowly stir in the cream, and boil for about 5 minutes to thicken, stirring once or twice.

11. Remove from heat and scrape the cranberries into the appropriately sized baking pan. Spoon the crumbs over the filling and place the baking dish on the same baking sheet used for the crumbs (this is to catch any overflowing juices).

12. Bake for 50 to 60 minutes, until the top is brown and the cranberries on the edges are energetically bubbling. Cool for about 20 minutes before serving and ravenously digging in, or serve at room temperature.

Crisp is best eaten on the day it’s made. It can be made up to 8 hours in advance and kept at room temperature. Leftovers can be warmed up briefly in a 350-degree oven. But my advice is to eat as much as you can on the first day, even if that means eating it for dinner.

Cream Of Eat Cranberry Crisp

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Inside the Pantry

While this recipe will be delicious when made as outlined above, below are some of the specialty items I use that take it up a notch:

• Cinnamon

• Cardamom

• Ginger

• Allspice

• Rolled oats

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I was one of the many avid readers of the sadly shuttered former Gourmet Magazine, and one of their best issues was the annual devoted to holiday cookies. Captivated by the endless possibilities of deliciousness, I read through each cookie recipe as if it were my first.

One recipe that jumped out at me was for Polish Apricot-Filled Cookies, because they reminded me of a cookie my grandmother had frequently baked. The cookies were filled with a tart apricot spread and surrounded by a cream cheese dough that was shaped into a triangle like a tiny hat. We loved eating them, particularly since they were bite-sized and because dried apricots were something we couldn’t get enough of. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that one of the things we were raised on was apricot leather.

In those days I habitually ate Greek yogurt for breakfast, often topped with jam Mom had made. Was it a coincidence that the day I had an epiphany I was eating yogurt topped with apricot jam? What if - instead of making the cookie - I just made the filling and used it as a yogurt topping? And so began years of happy breakfasts, until I stopped eating yogurt for breakfast.

Fast forward to the present. I hadn’t made the filling in years (and I’ve still never made the actual cookie), but thanks to the Parsnip Cake (*coming soon), I decided it was time to start making it again. In the olden days I bought raisins, but now that I was dehydrating my own, with Red Globe grapes from Costco (*stay tuned), it was a whole new ball game.

The first thing I did was find a better source than the clamshell packets of dried apricots I used to use, from my local greengrocer (I wasn’t slumming in Astoria, but I wanted better). I normally get recommendations from my favorite food sources and friends, but since I didn’t have an apricot source it was time to start Googling.

As always, it’s about using the best ingredients you can find and afford. Going down the “best dried apricots” rabbit hole led me to an article in Town & Country about the endangered Blenheim apricot, an apricot that’s sweeter and juicier than the Turkish variety. The secret to Blenheims is that they are better and sweeter when dried - and this does appear to be somewhat of a secret. After discovering that the harvest season could be as short as ten days, I looked for an orchard who both grew and dried them. B&R Farms, a fourth-generation family operated business, sounded perfect and I haven’t looked back.

Since you’re not making a cookie the process is quick. After bringing the filling ingredients to a boil in a heavy saucepan you simmer the mixture for about 10 minutes, cool it, then transfer it to a food processor and pulse until it’s finely chopped. Then use it or refrigerate it.

The next day I had it slightly warmed on Overnight Baked French Toast (*stay tuned), and the week after that on the heavenly Baked Bread Pudding (*stay tuned). Of course, it was amazing in Greek yogurt, so it wasn’t a stretch to spread it on warm Yogurt Cake. It was a great sweet-sour counterpoint to corn muffins (*stay tuned), especially if you split them and sandwich it in between like a mini layer cake. Not wanting to confine my eating to the morning, it made a stellar PB&J, especially with homemade peanut butter pushing it into the realm of lunch staple nirvana.

After I mixed it into the frosting for the Parsnip Cake (*coming soon), where it was, in a word, spectacular, there was no turning back my imagination. It would be unexpected and fabulous on top of cream cheese frosting (*stay tuned). Cheesecake seems like an obvious pairing, although a tad tart, but no more tart than sour cherries. Absolutely inspired on Lemon Poppyseed Cupcakes (*stay tuned), and a perfect match with Olive Oil Pound Cake. The complete decadence award may go to the swoon-worthy combination of Persimmon Bread (*stay tuned) with a dab of this on top.

It’s the LBD of accompaniments -- it goes with everything and goes everywhere, in any situation, depending on how you dress it up or dress it down.

It’s stored in the refrigerator, but once you start coming up with your own combinations…it won’t be stored for long.

*if this were a mystery series, we could call this building suspense

Apricot Preserves adapted from Polish Apricot-Filled Cookies, Gourmet Dec 2004

about a half hour

Ingredients

• 1 3/4 cups coarsely chopped dried apricots (approx 9 ounces)

• 1/2 cup raisins

• 2/3 cup mild honey

• 1/4 cup orange marmalade

• 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

• 1 cup water

Directions

1. Bring all ingredients to a boil in a 2-3 quart heavy saucepan over moderate heat; stir frequently.

2. Reduce heat and simmer, continuing to stir, until the dried fruit is softened and the mixture is thick, about 10 minutes.

3. Transfer to a small bowl and cool until warm, about 20 minutes.

4. Transfer to a food processor and pulse until finely chopped.

5. Store in the refrigerator in an airtight container. I presume it would easily last a month, but I have no idea since mine never lasts that long.

Cream Of Eat Apricot Preserves

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Inside the Pantry

While this recipe will be delicious when made as outlined above, below are some of the specialty items I use that take it up a notch:

• Apricots

• Honey

• Orange marmalade

• Cinnamon

If you’re enjoying this, would you take a second to hit the ❤️ button at the bottom of this newsletter? It helps spread the word and makes me and the algorithm (since now I’m going to have to pay attention to that) happy!

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It’s too long ago to remember what started the tradition of Dad’s birthday cheesecake, but I’m guessing it’s because he was a July 4^th baby. We wanted a statement cake – one that said, I’m just as big as you, Holiday, but I’m not above adding red and blue fruit because we share the day.

This recipe comes with serious pedigree from a vintage issue of Gourmet Magazine. It’s creamy, dreamy and big, with a crust that was plainly radical in the days when a sponge or graham cracker base was de rigueur. A crust that seemed destined to torture me every July when I made it in an un-air-conditioned kitchen.

The original recipe calls for a pâte sucrée crust that is made by hand. It covers not only the bottom, but the sides of the pan, unheard of in the cheesecake canon. In a delightful nod to pasta making: a well is made in the center of the flour mixture; the egg yolk and vanilla are stirred in with your fingers. I’ve always been a firm believer in crust by hand so this was right up my alley.

I followed all the rules. I waited for the dough to come to room temperature after chilling; I used parchment below the dough and plastic wrap above. I chilled the leftover dough while the bottom baked and let it cool before rolling out the sides. When I was about halfway around the side of the pan with the balance of the dough, I realized it was quickly warming up and I may not have enough to go around. So began what would become a familiar dance of gently flattening and pushing the side crust already in place, hoping to evenly redistribute the dough before it got too warm. By the time I was filling in the last gap, it was as sticky and thin as my patience.

Despite that, the cake came out of the oven beautifully, with a golden-brown crust and not even a crack across the top. Picture perfect. I even made bonus cutout cookies with the leftover pâte sucrée.

I’ve never doubted the pâte sucrée crust, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I would dread our annual sweaty tango. I had already realized that one solution was to double the crust recipe so there would always be enough for the bottom and sides. But that didn’t solve the hot kitchen/hot fingers problem. During the pandemic I saw a recipe on Serious Eats for pâte sucrée that used the stand mixer. Once I realized my shoulders were relaxed, my breathing was even, and I was smiling, I knew it was time to just use the machine.

You begin as if you’re making a cake, creaming the butter and sugar and scraping the bowl halfway through. Eggs and egg yolk are added one at a time, scraping the bowl after each is fully incorporated. The flour is added with the mixer turned off, then mixed in at a low speed, but no one will judge if you drape your favorite kitchen towel over the top to catch any flour storms. The cream and vanilla are added with the mixer running and mixed for only 15 seconds until they come together.

The pliable dough is divided into two equal portions, and each half is patted flat; one into a round disk and one into a rectangle, then they are both covered with plastic wrap and chilled. The chilled dough is rolled one portion at a time on a generously floured work surface, the bottom dough first, while the dough for the sides waits in the refrigerator. Here’s the brilliant part: it’s chilled a second time, on the pan bottom, for at least an hour, keeping the dough cold and relaxing the gluten. It’s then blind-baked at a lower temperature -- 350 degrees instead of 400 degrees. The lower heat reduces shrinkage and puffing, making sure every possible square inch is available for the delectable filling. The sides of the pan are lightly buttered and attached to the bottom before being lined with the unbaked dough portion. And the taste? Leftover dough cutout cookies worth fighting for.

I’m going on the record to say that after all these years, I still haven’t mastered getting the top of the crust lined up perfectly with the top of the cheesecake. I’m told the ragged edge show it’s homemade and adds to the charm, and I’m sure you can guess how that makes me feel. That’s why the next time I make it, I’m going to try positioning the top of the dough an inch below the rim of the pan.

What puts this cheesecake over the top is the combination of the deliciously decadent, rich, buttery, crust cradling the smooth, cool, tangy filling. It’s hard to believe that something made with two and a half pounds of cream cheese can be so light in texture, but it’s as light as a cloud, the knife gliding through so effortlessly when sliced.

Everyone thinks they have a great cheesecake recipe, but I’ve only had one other that comes close and that’s my husbands’ family recipe. Points subtracted for the secret crust.

Pâte Sucrée adapted from Lauren Weisenthal

Dough about half a day prep, chilling and baking

Pâte Sucrée Ingredients

• 360 grams all-purpose flour

• 1 teaspoon Diamond Crystal Kosher salt

• ½ tablespoon vanilla powder OR 1 tablespoon vanilla extract

• 225 grams (2 sticks) unsalted butter, soft but not cool, about 65 degrees, cut into 1 inch thick slices

• 170 grams granulated sugar

• 1 large egg

• 1 large egg yolk

• 2 tablespoons heavy whipping cream

Pâte Sucrée Directions

1. Whisk together the flour, salt, and vanilla powder (if using) in a medium bowl. Set aside.

2. In the bowl of a stand mixer with paddle attachment, combine butter and sugar. Mix at low speed to moisten, then increase speed to medium high and beat, pausing halfway to scrape the bowl, until light and fluffy, about 5 minutes.

3. Working with the mixer at medium speed for about 1 minute total, add the whole egg followed by the egg yolk, allowing each to fully incorporate before adding the next, and pausing to scrape down the bowl and paddle after each addition.

4. With the mixer turned off, add flour and salt mixture (and vanilla powder if using) to the wet mixture, then beat about 30 seconds at low speed until dough is crumbly.

5. With the mixer at low speed, pour in cream and vanilla (if using extract) and continue to mix about 15 seconds until the dough comes together.

6. Scrape dough onto a lightly floured work surface. Divide into 2 equal portions, about 420 grams each. Shape one half into a flat, round disk and the other into a rectangle about 8 inches long. Wrap each disk tightly in plastic wrap and chill for a minimum of 2 hours.

7. After the dough has chilled, remove one portion of dough from the refrigerator and set on a generously floured work surface. Using a rolling pin and, adding more flour as needed underneath and on top of the dough to prevent sticking, roll out to a 13” circle that’s about 1/8 inch thick (adjust for cheesecake pan size – I use a 10-inch springform pan).

8. To transfer to pan, carefully roll dough around the rolling pin, then unroll over the pan. Dust off excess flour with a pastry brush and press gently yet firmly into the pan, cutting off any excess with kitchen shears. Wrap any remaining dough in plastic wrap and return to the refrigerator. Chill the bottom crust for a minimum of 1 hour.

9. Heat oven to 350 degrees.

10. Transfer the bottom crust to a half sheet try and blind bake until fully set and golden brown around the edges, about 35 minutes. Check at the 30 minutes mark to make sure it’s not too brown. Cool on a wire rack before proceeding to the next step.

11. When bottom crust is cool, remove the other portion of dough and any leftover dough from the refrigerator and set on a generously floured work surface. Using a rolling pin and, adding more flour as needed underneath and on top of the dough to prevent sticking, roll out to two rectangles about 8 inches long. You’ll be trimming the dough to fit.

12. Butter the sides of the springform pan and place it over the baked base. Line the sides of the pan with the remaining dough, positioning the top of the dough about an inch from the rim of the pan. Make sure to seal the intersection of bottom and side crusts to prevent leakage.

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Deluxe Cheesecake adapted from Gourmet Magazine

around 6 hours prep and baking and overnight chilling at least 12 hours

Cheesecake Ingredients

• 2 1/2 pounds Philadelphia Cream Cheese, at room temperature

• 200 grams sugar

• 4 tablespoons freshly grated lemon zest (from about 10 lemons)

• 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

• ¼ teaspoons salt

• 1 teaspoon vanilla powder OR 2 teaspoons vanilla extract

• 5 large eggs

• 2 egg yolks

• ¼ cup heavy whipping cream, preferably with no additives

Cheesecake Directions

1. Heat oven to 500 degrees and remove the top oven rack so there is nothing above the middle.

2. Open the packets of cream cheese for the cheesecake, cut into thirds, and let stand at room temperature until softened while you prepare the crust.

3. In a small bowl, smush lemon zest into sugar using your fingers until it resembles the texture of wet sand.

4. Whisk flour, salt and vanilla powder (if using) in a separate small bowl to combine.

5. In a stand mixer, beat room temperature cream cheese until fluffy, around 3 or 4 minutes. Add sugar mixture and vanilla extract (if using) to cream cheese and beat on medium speed until well blended, scraping down the bowl and blade. Gradually add in the flour mixture on medium speed, stopping occasionally to scrape the bowl and blade and keep the mixture smooth.

6. Add eggs and egg yolks, one at a time, blending and scraping well after each addition. Gently stir in cream. Turn into springform pan with baked crust.

7. Bake at 500 degrees for 10 to 12 minutes, or until cookie dough is a light, golden brown. PAY ATTENTION and watch the oven! One minute too long can mean a much darker crust.

8. Reduce oven temperature to 200 degrees and continue baking for 1 hour. DO NOT open the oven door under any circumstance!

9. Remove from oven and place on a wire rack away from drafts until well cooled. Chill in refrigerator IN PAN covered with either aluminum foil or a baking sheet at least 8 hours before serving, optimally overnight. Remove sides of pan before serving.

10. Store tightly covered in the refrigerator with a cake dome or something that won’t smush the top or sides. Cake will last in the refrigerator for at least 3 or 4 days, depending on the thickness of your slices and how many people are devouring it. The cake can be wrapped in foil and frozen in a Ziploc bag and will keep for months or until there’s a cheesecake craving emergency.

During sour cherry season, sour cherries are a lovely addition to each serving, as are blueberries, blackberries or raspberries. Peaches and nectarines would be great too, but I’ve never made it when they are in season.

I wouldn’t top the whole thing with fruit because, although the cheesecake will keep fine, the fruit will suffer. It’s better to add to individual servings…unless you’re planning on eating the whole thing in one day.

Cream Of Eat Deluxe Cheesecake

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Inside the Pantry

While this recipe will be delicious when made as outlined above, below are some of the specialty items I use that take it up a notch:

• New Metro BeaterBlade METAL attachment

• Microplane Premium Series Lemon zester

• Beyond Good Pure Ground Madagascar Vanilla Powder

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My normal routine at the holidays is to bake an assembly line’s worth of Christmas cookies to send to friends and family near and far. What started out as a small gesture has become a mailing list managed on a spreadsheet with eleven different cookies and three box size options. The stakes are much higher than my usual daily baking, where if it’s an “almost”, my husband will almost always eat it anyway.

I’ll be the first to admit my standards are high, but no higher than anyone else who worships at the temple of good food. I’m talking better than the supermarket, better than average, and best if I can find it. And I always try to find it, partly because the search itself yields so many fabulous tributaries.

Let me start with the obvious: powder vs liquid. When you’re adding the vanilla liquid to the creamed butter and sugar, you’re totally changing the consistency of the batter. When you’re adding the powder, nothing changes except the flavor – from ordinary to turbo charged. The powder is ground up vanilla pods and seeds only, so is stronger than the extract, which is cut with alcohol. Overnight Baked French toast (stay tuned) amps up. One of the holiday cookies that uses the entire vanilla bean goes from crazy delicious to sublime. It literally enhances anything it touches.

You know those dark flecks of vanilla you see in the best homemade vanilla ice cream, the kind of ice cream you want to melt into your coffee? When you add a half teaspoon – because you use exactly half of what you would use for extract – to the cream for ice cream, or to the creamed butter for a cookie, the brown specks blossom all over the bowl, and, once you start the stand mixer, it’s a gorgeous symphony of stippling. For those of you who didn’t attend architecture school and spend 180 hours stippling a rendering, stippling is a technique that uses small dots to create patterns, textures, or our ridiculously delicious house frosting (stay tuned).

I’m a vanilla powder convert, and you should be too. This is one of those times when - if a friend tells you to jump off a cliff - you should actually do it.

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Inside the Pantry

• Beyond Good Pure Ground Madagascar Vanilla Powder

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If you’ve ever gone blueberry picking, you know the anticipation that occurs when standing in front of the plant, sunscreen applied, fingers and basket ready. In your sweet dreams you’re hoping that there will be more ripe than unripe, and a cursory scan of the bush tells you what you need to know. If there’s enough, you’re already thinking about pie. Granted, some of you may be thinking about jam too, but that’s after you have pie. If there’s some but not tons, you’re probably thinking about muffins.

I hope you know by now that I’m talking about an olive oil-based muffin, not one of the many butter-based “bakery style” recipes that lean more towards cake. I’m not dissing Ina, Martha, Jordan, Sally or Deb here. I went looking for a recipe from someone who also observes at the church of olive oil. And the funny part is, my Mom found it before I did – and she’s not even a disciple.

You measure the oil (I measured in the Euclid and then poured it into a four-cup measuring cup) and then add the egg to the same cup measure. Next, you pour in enough milk to reach the 1-cup line, without even having to think about the quantity. You’ve always got one cup of liquids no matter the egg size. It’s failproof and couldn’t be easier. It’s brilliant!

I’ve discovered that the batter comes out best when I mix it with a dough whisk. It’s much less aggressive than the regular whisk so there’s less risk of overbeating. I usually do about 13 or 14 turns around the bowl for a regular batch, 15 or 16 turns for the double.

I keep some sugar in the refrigerator in a small spice bottle with a shaker top, to use when I’m sugaring the inside of a Bundt pan. It’s the perfect thing for sprinkling the tops of the muffins before baking. These don’t need streusel and they don’t need a blanket of topping, just enough to give them a delightful subtle crunch against the soft interior.

We like them right out of the oven, and only wait for them to cool long enough to peel off the cupcake wrapper without leaving any precious blueberry attached, about five long minutes (and if there is, that’s one of the things we use small spoons from our collection for). Break off a piece to see the blue dispersal before taking a bite. When looking at the melting berries against the light, fluffy crumb, your heart will beat a little faster, in that same hungry anticipation you felt when you were picking them. The slightly lemony batter is the perfect contrast in both taste and texture against the tart, jammy berries.

The recipe should make ten muffins if you’re using the #16 scoop, and about twenty if you’re feeding four or five. The #16 scoop will fill the muffin cups about three-quarters full, for a perfectly sized muffin.

You start with two muffins each, like you always do. Then your husband goes back for two more each and you don’t object. That’s eight, if you’re counting. It would be a real shame to have to wrap up only two muffins, you say, so you each have another and – voila! The batch is finished.

Which is how we ended up making three batches over a long weekend. I love a recipe that makes you want to have one more, no matter how many you’ve already eaten.

Lemon Blueberry Muffins adapted from Inspired Taste

About 40 minutes

Ingredients

approx. 10 muffins // approx. 20 muffins

• 100 grams // 200 grams granulated sugar

• zest and 2 tablespoons juice from 1 large lemon // zest and ¼ cup juice from 2 large lemons

• 180 grams // 360 grams all-purpose flour

• 2 teaspoons // 4 teaspoons baking powder

• ½ teaspoon // 1 teaspoon vanilla powder OR 1 teaspoon //2 teaspoons vanilla extract

• ¼ teaspoon // ½ teaspoon fine sea salt

• 1/3 cup // 2/3 cup canola, avocado or grapeseed oil

• 1 egg // 2 large eggs

• 1/3 to ½ cup // ½ to 2/3 cup milk; dairy or non-dairy

• 260 grams (about 1 ½ cups) // 520 grams blueberries (about 3 heaping cups)

• Extra sugar for sprinkling

Directions

1. Heat oven to 400 degrees. Line muffin cups with liners.

2. In a large bowl, smush the lemon zest into the sugar until it resembles the texture of wet sand. In a separate small bowl, whisk the flour, baking powder, vanilla powder (if using) and salt, then whisk into the sugar.

3. Measure oil, then add to a glass 4-cup measuring cup with a spout.

4. Add the egg then fill to the 2-cup line with the milk. Measure 1/4 cup of the freshly squeezed lemon juice and add it with the vanilla extract (if using). Whisk until well blended.

5. Pour the milk mixture into the dry ingredients, using a spatula to get out every last drop. Whisk with a dough whisk about 14 turns around the bowl, until the batter is combined. DO NOT OVERMIX. The batter will be quite thick. Fold in the blueberries.

6. Using a #16 scoop, fill the cupcake liners. The batter will come very close to the top of the liner, less than 1/4 below. If you prefer a smaller muffin use a smaller scoop. Sprinkle the sugar lightly on top of the muffins.

7. Bake for 23 to 25 minutes, until the top is golden brown and a tester in the middle comes out clean. Transfer to a cooling rack and let cool 5 minutes.

8. Muffins will keep at room temperature in an airtight container for 2 or 3 days. They are great reheated in the toaster oven. They can be frozen for up to 3 months wrapped tightly in foil and placed in a freezer bag.

Variations

• They are crazy delicious with raspberries if you can get good ones, so jammy and addicting. Keep all measurements the same but omit the lemon juice.

• They are also good with peaches or nectarines in season.

  ---

Cream Of Eat Lemon Blueberry Muffins

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Inside the Pantry

While this recipe will be delicious when made as outlined above, below are some of the specialty items I use that take it up a notch:

• Zeroll #16 scoop*

• Oxo #16 scoop

• Danish Dough Whisk

• Dreamfarm The Fluicer

*Inside the scoop number system

The number on a scoop, also referred to as a “disher,” indicates how many scoops it takes to make one quart (32 ounces) of batter or dough. Higher numbers mean smaller scoops. I most frequently use the #40, #60, and #70, with a few cookies calling for #100.

As not all scoops are created equal, I’ve found that the Zeroll line is comfortable to use with a high degree of accuracy, so that is my house default and what I will be recommending.

I love a good visual aid, and this one, from Bakers Brigade, has been used more times than I can count.

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After all, Dad and I spent my entire junior year of high school trying to come up with a new proof for the Pythagorean theorem, just because we could. It delighted my Advanced Math teacher, who also said it broke her heart each time she had to tell us our novel solution had been done before. Not only did that not deter us, we turned around and bought The Pythagorean Proposition by Elisha Scott Loomis, a book of 366 proofs, to use as inspiration.

So when the co-founder of GIR had the Euclid next to baked goods in her Instagram feed and said it was her favorite measuring cup, my measuring cup destiny was sealed.

Bear with me while I geek-out about the patented, innovative shape. It maintains the same ratio of surface area to volume at each measurement line, so the accuracy remains consistent no matter the amount you’re measuring. If that resonates with you, then you probably remember from high school math what a meniscus is: the curvy edge of liquid in a measuring device that slopes up slightly higher than the line you’re measuring at. When the bottom of that slope rests right on the red line, you can be sure you’ve measured the correct amount.

I have always been a proponent of buying the best tools and ingredients you are able to, whatever interest you’re pursuing, and I consider the Euclid to be at the top of the measuring cup canon (my only lament is that I wish they could make a 2-cup, but when I wrote to request one, I believe they mentioned intrinsic difficulties in scaling up).

There’s something infinitely satisfying and reassuring in knowing that I have the best tools to ensure a perfectly baked result.

I could tell you that between the Euclid and my trusty scale, I can get perfect and consistent baking results every time – but technically that would be lying. Because what if I told you that when I was unmolding a recent zucchini bundt cake, I misjudged and missed the rack by an inch? And when I tried to drag the hot cake back onto the rack, I shaved off enough of the middle that it was impossible to put it back in, so we just ate it?

I know that has nothing to do with the Euclid. I just wanted you to know that even though I have all the tools to ensure my baking might be perfect, I still have my moments.

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Inside the Pantry

• Euclid Measuring Cup

Even if we want that second piece -- and sometimes we are very, very hungry and we really do -- we know that if we can exercise some self-control, as my dad used to say, it will be worth the wait.

It helps to have leftover jasmine rice, but it’s just as good if it’s made fresh. It will just take a lot longer to get dinner on the table that way.

The methods below are based on half of a large chicken being saved for leftovers and are intended to serve two. I eat dark meat and my husband eats white, so we have approximately a C cup breast and a small-sized Spanx thigh left over. If you need to feed more people, you need to make more chicken yesterday. If you need to understand the size references, ask the nearest female.

Leftovers Method 1

The first method, since you can’t really call this a recipe, is ridiculously simple. Grab those latex or nitrile gloves, if you’re so inclined, and hold a piece of the chicken over the nonstick sauté pan you intend to use. Pull off a few pieces of meat to use as scrapers, then scrape off the herbs on and underneath the skin, putting them directly into the pan and discarding the skin when you can’t get any more off. The goal is to get as much of the herbed seasoning as possible into the pan.

Rip the remaining chicken into bite-sized pieces. Then scrape the inside of the container it was stored in to make sure you don’t miss any gelled juices in there.

Add a little oil to the pan and, using the Spoonula, mix up the chicken and seasoning so that the pieces are evenly coated. Heat, and eat aside a vegetable or starch of your choice.

Leftovers Method 2

Slice a fennel bulb in half, then make cuts almost to the root end of each half so that the bulb is in thirds but still intact. Thinly slice across each bulb to create a pile of curves. When you reach the root end, turn the fennel onto the flat side and cut across into thin slices. The key here is that all slices are the same thickness so they cook evenly. Finely chop some of the fronds and set aside. Put a few tablespoons of oil into a nonstick sauté pan and turn the heat to medium. Add the fennel, season generously with lemon pepper, and sauté as you would for onions, starting on medium heat until they begin to caramelize and take on color. Turn the heat down, then cook low and slow to develop the deeper flavor that will perfume the whole dish, 15-20 minutes, adding the fronds about halfway through. Remove from the pan into a separate bowl when the fennel is richly burnished.

Warm the leftover rice with a little water on low heat while the fennel is caramelizing.

Follow steps for Leftovers Method 1 (scraping, shredding, heating) until chicken is nicely warmed. Leave in the sauté pan to save yourself washing an extra dish.

Slice a few rounds of candied ginger into thin strips, then cut each strip into small squares and set aside on cutting board top right.

Roughly chop a handful of roasted almonds – hand size of your choice – and push to cutting board bottom right.

Slice a navel orange in half, peel one half, and separate the sections. Cut each individual section into thirds and push to cutting board top left.

In the middle of the cutting board, slice the cheese of your choice (we like Drunken Goat with this mixture) into small squares about the same size as the ginger (the point of all this tininess is to create the greatest number of taste options per forkful).

If it’s pomegranate season you’re in luck, since that’s one of my absolute favorite toppings. On a cutting board in the sink (with latex gloves on if you don’t want your cuticles pomegranate-stained), quarter the pomegranate and meditate on the delectable dish you are creating as you pop the arils into a container.

Grab a couple of your favorite bowls, and it’s time for the fun part. Create layers in each bowl in this order: rice, chicken, fennel, orange sections. Evenly scatter ginger on top, making sure you get to the perimeter, then joyfully sprinkle on the nuts, cheese, and pomegranate for the final flourish. If you’re in the mood, you can squeeze the other half of the navel orange on top, but it usually doesn’t need that.

Eat however your heart desires – I like to mix it up so that the oil from the fennel becomes a dressing and I have a different combination on each forkful, but my husband eats from the top down. There’s no better or worse way, although it’s crazy delicious if you get rice, chicken, fennel, and almond on the same forkful. This is a good time to eat slowly and carefully and appreciate how the simplest of preparations can produce a symphony.

This isn’t rocket science, I know. But you’d be amazed at how many people I’ve told this recipe to who think I’ve discovered a new world. Which, to be fair, is how we felt the first time we had it.

Of course, as my husband is quick to point out, if we are really hungry, we’ll eat all the chicken and there won’t be any leftovers.

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Inside the Pantry

While this recipe will be delicious when made as outlined above, below are some of the specialty items I use that take it up a notch:

• Crystalized Ginger

• Toasted Unsalted Almonds

• Lemon Pepper

• 3-cup rice cooker

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