puppy love

Meet Eleanor, our newest heartbeat. 

When I look down at Ella sleeping in my lap, I pray that she will be healthy, and I ask her to please grow old. I just melt at the sound of her little baby breaths as she cuddles up close, completely unaware of how quickly she has captured us. I could hardly put her down the first few days we had her, letting her nuzzle up in my neck and put her little paws all over my face, and attributing all those standard adorable characteristics one imagines for their animals. We are absolutely in puppy love over here.

Truly, dogs are good for the soul. If you have ever met Quimby (our 5 year old Rhodesian), you will understand how his calm and steady presence could have aided us through those first couple years of medical school and law school (and other heartbreaks along the way). Dogs—and to a more extravagant degree, babies, yikes—demand us to focus our attention outside of ourselves, thereby offering us an opportunity to develop our servant character. This activity, despite its requisite sacrifice of our sleep or cash or food or comfort, also deepens our bond towards that which we serve (I suppose this is why people get so obsessed with their children). I dare say this demand of ourselves even makes us better humans overall, as a well-practiced servitude lends fulfillment and satisfaction, and facilitates a better approach to all our relationships. The diligence we committed to in our promise to raise this puppy well sure helps us take turns rolling out of the bed at 4 am when her little cries require a trip outside to use the restroom, and even affect how we try to help each other during the day when we notice a hint of exhaustion on the other’s face. I think this puppy will be a good thing…

…so, little Ella, please grow old with us. 

some people just go well around a table

Last week, I gathered around a table with a special bunch of people to celebrate our friend Ali’s 26^th birthday. I found these gals over the past few years, some through mutual friends and some through mutual tracks of life. One quality that characterizes this special cohort (and most people I would actually deem my friend) is their table-ability. I mean, these people sit around a table well. They make good cheese plates, start good conversations, and bring good laughs.

We held the birthday party at my friends’ Mel and Nan’s new house and I offered to bring something warm (as they planned to provide the aforementioned impressive cheese service). I landed on pancetta sage pork tenderloin, because I had just roasted a chicken with this fabulous butter (I included that recipe as well) and a butternut squash/bacon/sage appetizer, because I had a surplus of extra squash from a friend’s farm box. Enjoy!

Pancetta-Sage Pork Tenderloin

2 pork tenderloins

THE butter:

3 garlic cloves, peeled

2 ounces thinly sliced pancetta (Italian bacon), chopped

2 tablespoons finely grated Parmesan cheese

3 tablespoons butter, room temperature

1 tablespoons olive oil

1 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoons minced shallot

2 teaspoons chopped fresh rosemary

2 teaspoons chopped fresh sage

1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

To make the butter: Combine garlic and pancetta in a food processor and pulse for a few seconds. Add remaining ingredients and pulse to combine into a coarse paste.

The night before you are ready to prepare this pork tenderloin, prepare THE butter and slather it all over the pork tenderloin. Refrigerate for at least 12 hours.

After chilling the pork slathered in THE bacon for 12 hours, preheat your oven to 375 degrees. Heat a cast iron skillet to high heat. You can flick a few drops of water into the skillet to test its heat: they should pop and sizzle when they hit the skillet if it is heated adequately. Sear each side of the pork tenderloin over high heat (should take about 2 minutes per side). After all sides are seared, place skillet with tenderloin in the oven. Cook for about 20 minutes or until pork registers 155 degrees with a meat thermometer (check it at about 15 minutes, depending on your oven). Remove from oven and tent with foil for 10 minutes before serving 

Pancetta-Sage Roast Chicken

4-5 pound whole young chicken

1 tablespoon salt

6 fresh sprigs of sage

6 fresh sprigs of rosemary

THE butter (recipe above)

oil, salt and pepper

Directions:

The day before you are ready to serve this chicken, set it in a roaster and sprinkle 1 tablespoon salt all over it (add some extra inside the cavity of the chicken). Cover with saran wrap loosely and allow to dry-brine in your fridge for at least 24 hours.

To make the butter: Combine garlic and pancetta in a food processor and pulse for a few seconds. Add remaining ingredients and pulse to combine into a coarse paste.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Starting at the neck end, slide your hand between the skin and the meat of the breast and drumsticks to loosen the skin. Spread the sage-pancetta-herb butter between the skin and the meat, trying to cover as much of the meat as possible. Fill the main cavity with the herb sprigs. Tie drumstick legs together loosely to keep them close to the chicken’s body and tuck the wing tips under the bird.

Rub chicken all over with olive oil and a sprinkle of salt and pepper. Roast chicken until a meat thermometer registers 160 degrees, about 1 to 1 ½ hours (very much depends on the size of your chicken and your oven, so begin to check after 1 hour). Remove from oven and tent with foil. Allow to rest about 20 minutes then carve and serve.

MERRY CHRISTMAS PEOPLE!

Didn't that just sneak right up on us?

Pie

“I may not make it into the history books. I can barely concentrate well enough to even read a history book. I know that life doesn't always turn out like you hoped, no matter how hard you try. But I have also figured out that if I put on my apron, get out the flour, sugar and butter and start cooking, I feel a sense of purpose.”

-My mom, Myra

Pear Anise Pie

Adapted slightly from The Four & Twenty Blackbirds Pie Book

Pie Crust (the night before)

2 ½ cups unbleached all purpose flour

1 teaspoon kosher salt

1 tablespoon granulated sugar

2 sticks cold butter, cut into ½ inch pieces

1 cup cold water

¼ cup cider vinegar

1 cup ice

In the bowl of a food processor fitted with the blade, combine flour, salt, and sugar with a few quick pulses. Gradually add in the butter, with a few pulses after each addition, until incorporated (most of the butter pieces will be pea-size, but a few larger pieces are okay, as you do not want to overblend!).

Combine the water, ice, and cider vinegar in a measuring cup and stir to chill. Sprinkle 2 tablespoons of ice water mixture over the flour mixture, and pulse the food processor 2-3 times to combine. Repeat this process (adding in ice water mixture 2 tablespoons at a time with a short pulse afterwards to incorporate the moisture into your dough) until the dough comes together in a ball, with some dry bits remaining (again, do not overblend). Take off the lid of the food processor, remove the blade, and squeeze the dry bits into the dough with your fingers (using just a dash more of the water if necessary) to combine. Shape the dough into 2 equally sized flat discs, wrapping tightly in saran wrap, and refrigerate overnight.

Pie

1 lemon

6-7 medium sized pears (enough for about 5 cups sliced)

½ cup plus 2 tablespoons granulated sugar

1 ½ teaspoons anise seeds

¼ cup packed light brown sugar

2 tablespoons all purpose flour

¼ teaspoon ground allspice

½ teaspoon kosher salt

½ teaspoon cinnamon

4 dashes Peychaud’s bitters

Egg wash (1 egg whisked with 1 teaspoon of water and a pinch of salt)

Have ready and refrigerated one pastry-lined 9 inch pie pan. You can roll out the lattice top once your filling is ready (so keep one saran wrapped disc of crust in the fridge until then).

Juice the lemon into a large bowl, removing any seeds. Prepare the pears using an apple-peeler, or core, peel and thinly slice them yourself (I love my apple peeler…definitely facilitates this process). Dredge the pear slices in the lemon juice. Sprinkle with 2 tablespoons of sugar and toss gently. Set aside to soften slightly and release some of the juices, 20-30 minutes.

Toast the anise seeds in a skillet over medium heat until fragrant, about 5 minutes. In the bowl of a food processor fitted with the blade attachment, combine the remaining ½ cup sugar, toasted anise seeds, brown sugar, flour, allspice, salt, cinnamon, and bitters. Process until the anise seeds are chopped. Shake the sugar mixture through a fine-mesh sieve to remove the anise seed hulls.

Drain any excess juice from the pears and toss them with the sugar mixture. Tightly layer the pears in the prepared pie shell so that there are minimal gaps, mounding them slightly higher in the center.

To make a lattice top pie, roll out your second disc of crust on a floured surface in a circle about 12 inches in diameter and about 1/8^th of an inch thick. Using a knife, trim the ragged edges off either side of the circle to square it off. Cut the circle into about 8 long strips of equal width. Take the first strip and lay it just off center across your pie. Lay the second strip perpendicular, again just off center. Lay strip number three parallel to your first strip and strip four parallel on the opposite side (at this point, you will need to weave the remaining strips into a lattice…I fear I would confuse you far more trying to explain this process than letting you just use visual logic to continue the process yourself…I believe in you).

Once you have constructed your lattice, use your thumbs and index fingers to crimp the bottom pie crust and lattice top together at the edges of the pie all the way around. I am beginning to see how difficult it is to teach this method using only my words, and I do so wish each of you could come spend time with me in my kitchen (or time with your mothers in their kitchens) so I could show you and help you learn alongside you. Chill the pie in the refrigerator for 15 minutes to set the pastry.

Meanwhile, position the oven racks in the bottom and center of your oven, and place a foil lined baking sheet on the bottom rack. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.

When oven is preheated and pastry is chilled, brush pie with egg wash to coat the crust lightly. You can sprinkle the crust with demerara sugar at this point if you’d like. Place the pie on the rimmed baking sheet on the lowest rack of the oven. Bake for 20 minutes, or until the pastry is beginning to brown. Lower the oven temperature to 375 degrees and move the pie to the center oven rack. Continue baking until the pastry is a deep golden brown and the juices are bubbling, about 30-35 minutes longer. Test the pears with a skewer (they should be tender).

Allow the pie to cool completely on a wire rack for about 2-3 hours. Serve at room temperature with a scoop of vanilla ice cream (and heck, maybe some warmed caramel sauce). 

fly. sprint. collapse.

We learn very quickly that we function poorly as our own gods. I am sitting on the plane, with imminent fear of missing my next connecting flight, ready to pull a fast one and collect my carry on items in order to burst through the emergency exit. But I cannot move even an inch until we finish turtle taxiing to our gate (and my nervous eye contact with the face of my watch does not seem to be helping). Life can just be so disobedient sometimes, as if it pleasures to remind us of our deficiency of control.

The fasten-your-seatbelt sign goes off and I am immediately in full sprint down to my terminal three letters over. My bladder is full, my mouth is dry as a chalkboard from days of Dramamine, and my dinner of M&Ms and airplane peanuts is hardly fueling me at this point. I pause momentarily to wait for the train and my heart beats audibly in my ears to mark every precious second passing. By the time I finally jump to the finish line, my polite "excuse me's" have run out and I am nearly crying, not even sure myself whether I am overjoyed or exhausted. I sigh an awkwardly frazzled "thank you Lord" and board my plane home.

Phew, another Christmas miracle. I did this same triathlon (fly, sprint, collapse) three times this week. Isn't interviewing fun?

Would I like to breeze my way through this process with the greatest of ease? Well sure, who wouldn't. Would I like to saunter through airports and show up in my suit looking stellar everywhere I go? Again, yes. But these are the times that build character. These are the times that make me appreciate, even anticipate, Match Day looming in the near future.

December marks a season of anticipation for the joy to come. Many seasons of our lives reflect similar anticipation, as we seem to always be looking forward to the next thing, the next test, the next vacation, the next ______. We believe we will feel satisfaction when we accomplish or acquire this next thing, and finally, finally feel settled. Perhaps the reason we anticipate what's to come is that we think we are in control of it all, a god of our own lives and that reaching our goal will solidify this self-image.

But I make a terrible lord over myself, as exemplified in my perpetual chase for bettering results, causing me to constantly move forward in thought to the next big thing, anticipating that ever elusive contentedness. In this season of Christmas, I am going to choose to acknowledge what I profess to be true anyway-- that God is in control, that He has written my outcomes in ways that will shape me and form me into His own. I will anticipate His next moves, rather than my own dictatorship. After the sprint, I am ready for that season of over-my-head contentedness.

what luck

Once as a child, I won a pair of roller skates from Save-On drugstore. Then there was that time I won a throw-away camera from HEB. Last night I won a raffle for the right to buy Pappy Van Winkle. How lucky am I?!? If you know bourbon, you will know this was a big day for me.

I made the dish below for dinner Monday night, as an effort to start actually using the wealth of resources I have in cookbooks. Yotam Ottolenghi’s Plenty boasts of “vibrant vegetable recipes” that I hope to explore more over the next couple weeks, starting with this one…

Mushroom and herb polenta

4 tbsp olive oil

4 cups mixed mushrooms (I used baby bellas, cremini, and shitake)

4 cloves garlic, crushed and diced

1 tbsp fresh tarragon, chopped

1 tbsp fresh thyme, chopped

1 tbsp truffle oil

salt and black pepper

2 ¼ cups vegetable stock

½ cup polenta (instant)

3 oz Parmesan, grated

2 ½ tbsp butter

1 tsp rosemary, chopped

1 tbsp parsley, chopped

4 oz Taleggio, cut into strips

In a large skillet, heat half of the olive oil over medium-high heat and add in half of the mushrooms. Fry for a few minutes, resisting the urge to stir them at first (so that they form some nice golden brown patches), until just cooked and tender. Remove them from the pan and repeat with remaining olive oil and mushrooms. Turn the heat off and return all the mushrooms to the skillet, along with the garlic, tarragon, thyme, truffle oil, salt and pepper. Keep warm.

Bring the stock to boil in a saucepan. Stir in the polenta, then reduce the heat to low-medium and stir constantly with a wooden spoon for about 5 minutes (until polenta is pulling away from the sides of the pan when you stir, but still a bit runny in consistency). When polenta is cooked, stir in butter, rosemary, Parmesan and half of the parsley and season to taste with salt and pepper.

Preheat the broiler. Spread the polenta over a heatproof dish and top with the mushroom mixture. Dot the Taleggio over the mushrooms and place under the broiler until the cheese bubbles. Remove and garnish with the remaining parsley. Serve hot!

Adapted slightly from Plenty by Yotam Ottolenghi

i'm baaaaaaaack

Sitting at the dining room table this morning with Ben and some homemade cinnamon rolls, I felt my lips turn up at the edges with joy. I have not spent a morning with him in about a month (since our schedules did not exactly align), and this moment over breakfast just about made me sentimental. I think I am going to really like this 4^th year of medical school.

I count today as the official beginning of a break…one that lasts until I graduate. One wherein I have long meals and share good drinks. One wherein I have time to help you with this or that thing, so feel free to call me. One wherein I plan to just love well, and considering my love language is food, I will count it great success if that also translates to me blogging a little more frequently. This break is not something I have postulated to last forever, so I will enjoy it while it does. We are adaptive creatures, so I cannot believe the freedoms I take this year—to relax, to love others well, to just sit and be content—will breed in me a laziness that day 1 of residency will not be able to rectify. No, if anything, these next months of fun will cultivate in me a sense of appreciation.

So here we go! Expect to see me a little more often, dear readers…

before their final rise

ready to share!

Homemade Cinnamon Rolls

like my mama used to make

1 package active dry yeast
1 ½ cups warm water
5 cups sifted all-purpose flour, divided
½ cup sugar
2 teaspoons salt
½ cup shortening, melted
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
½ cup butter, melted
more all-purpose flour for dusting your workplace

Combine yeast and warm water in a 2-cup liquid measuring cup & let stand for 5 minutes.
Combine 4 cups sifted flour, sugar, and salt in a large bowl. Stir in yeast mixture and shortening. Add eggs and remaining 1 cup sifted flour; stir vigorously until well blended. Dough will be soft and sticky. Brush or lightly rub dough with some of the melted butter. Cover loosely with a dishrag; let rise in a warm place, free from drafts, about 1 ½ to 2 hours or until doubled in bulk.

1 cup sugar
1 cup butter, melted
dash of salt
½ cup ground cinnamon

Mix together the above ingredients in a small bowl. Sprinkle flour on your risen dough as well as on a big clean work surface. Take half of the dough and roll it into a 30 by 20 inch rectangle. Spread half of cinnmon mixture over dough. Roll up dough jellyroll fashion, starting at the short side, just to the center of the rectangle; cut dough along side of roll to release it. Roll up the remaining half of the rectangle in a similar fasion. Set rolls of dough aside. Repeat procedure using dough and cinnamon mixture (and make sure to re-flour your work surface).

Grease the bottom of pans with butter (be generous!).

Cut each roll of dough into 16 or so 1 ¼ inch thick slices. Place slices, cut side down, in prepared pans, leaving about ¼ inch space between the slices. Brush slices with remaining melted butter. Let rise, uncovered, for one more whole hour in a warm place free from drafts, or until again doubled in bulk.

Preheat oven to 375° F . Bake rolls, uncovered, for 18 minutes or until lightly browned. Cool slightly in pans.

2 ½ cups powdered sugar
dash of salt
2 tablespoons milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 tablespoon bourbon (optional)

Stir above ingredients until smooth (add a touch more milk if icing is too thick) and drizzle over warm cinnamon rolls.

fast balls or curve balls?

Sitting in my first interview with eyes intently focused, I leaned in as my interviewer formed his next question (which he prefaced by offering me “fast balls or curve balls”),

“If you could continue doing only 1 thing outside of your surgical residency, what would it be?”

“Besides my spouse?” I inquired.

“Of course.” Okay well I admit I was glad he clarified, in case this was some sort of test of my allegiance.

“Cooking” immediately populated my thoughts. Working in the kitchen affords me the most functional catharsis: I am creatively satisfied and dinner makes it to the table for husBen. I have recently started loving those moments when I find myself spinning around in the kitchen from this chopping on this cutting board to stirring that boiling pot to pouring a glass of wine for whoever is sitting in my kitchen with me. That space is holy for me. That busyness I cherish.

I am in the shock trauma ICU this month and I have to admit I am quite content being back in the hospital after a month off studying in solitude for my Step test. I thrive off a meaningfully packed schedule because I learn to appreciate the few things (yikes, maybe “1 thing”) I still get to do in my free time. HusBen has also been busy! He passed the Bar exam (a milestone well celebrated with a cab franc we have been saving for a few years) and was sworn in as an official attorney in the state of Texas last weekend.

As Ben and I drove to the interview on Friday, we ran through a compilation of popular questions, spending some good miles on our favorites. “If your house were burning down, what are 3 things you would grab?” Fitting question, considering our house just sold (to a contractor ready to demolish it)! I am in no condition to predict where the next year may find us, so we will continue to love living in this idyllic little neighborhood until the wrecking ball begins to swing…

Another of my favorites: “Teach me something in 5 minutes.” I could teach you how to roast a chicken in less than that…

This recipe hails from one of our favorite restaurants in San Francisco, Zuni Café. I promise it is not hard to make, and it is the kind of recipe that coaches you into independence in the kitchen. The most quality cookbooks, in my opinion, teach you skills that translate into ability: you can follow the steps the first time then exercise some creativity each subsequent time you roast a chicken. Have fun!

Roast chicken with warm bread salad

INSTRUCTIONS

For the chicken

One small chicken, 3 to 4 pounds

4 tender sprigs fresh thyme, marjoram, rosemary or sage, about 1/2 inch long

Salt

About 1 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper

A little water

For the salad

2 cups slightly stale open-crumbed, chewy, peasant-style bread (not sourdough)

6 to 8 tablespoons mild-tasting olive oil

1-1/2 tablespoons Champagne vinegar or white wine vinegar

Salt and freshly cracked black pepper

1 tablespoon dried currants

1 teaspoon red wine vinegar, or as needed

1 tablespoon warm water

2 tablespoons pine nuts

2 to 3 garlic cloves, slivered

1/4 cup slivered scallions (about 4 scallions), including a little of the green part

2 tablespoons lightly salted Chicken Stock

A few handfuls of arugula, frisée, or red mustard greens, carefully washed and dried

DIRECTIONS 


Seasoning the chicken (Can be done 1 to 3 days before serving; for 3-1/4- to 3-1/2-pound chickens, at least 2 days)




Remove and discard the lump of fat inside the chicken. Rinse the chicken and pat very dry inside and out. Be thorough-a wet chicken will spend too much time steaming before it begins to turn golden brown.

Approaching from the edge of the cavity, slide a finger under the skin of each of the breasts, making 2 little pockets. Now use the tip of your finger to gently loosen a pocket of skin on the outside of the thickest section of each thigh. Using your finger, shove and herb sprig into each of the 4 pockets.

Season the chicken liberally all over with salt and pepper {we use ¾ teaspoon of sea salt per pound of chicken}. Season the thick sections a little more heavily than the skinny ankles and wings. Sprinkle a little of the salt just inside the cavity, on the backbone, but don’t otherwise worry about seasoning the inside. Twist and tuck the wing tips behind the shoulders. Cover loosely and refrigerate.

Starting the bread salad (Can be done up to several hours in advance)


Preheat the broiler. Cut the bread into a couple of large chunks. Carve off all of the bottom crust and most of the top and side crust. Reserve the top and side crusts to use as croutons in salads or soups. Brush the bread all over with olive oil. Broil very briefly, to crisp and lightly color the surface. Turn the bread chunks over and crisp the other side. Trim off any badly charred tips, then tear the chunks into a combination of irregular 2- to 3-inch wads, bite-sized bits, and fat crumbs. You should get about 4 cups.

Combine about 1/4 cup of the olive oil with the Champagne or white wine vinegar and salt and pepper to taste. Toss about 1/4 cup of this tart vinaigrette with the torn bread in a wide salad bowl; the bread will be unevenly dressed. Taste one of the more saturated pieces. If it is bland, add a little salt and pepper and toss again.

Place the currants in a small bowl and moisten with the red wine vinegar and warm water. Set aside.

Roasting the chicken and assembling the salad

Preheat the oven to 475. Depending on the size, efficiency and accuracy of your oven, and the size of your bird, you may need to adjust the heat to as high as 500 or as low as 450 during the course of roasting the chicken to get it to brown properly. If that proves to be the case, begin at that temperature the next time you roast a chicken. If you have a convection function on your oven, use it for the first 30 minutes; it will enhance browning, and may reduce overall cooking by 5 to 10 minutes.

Choose a shallow flameproof roasting pan or dish barely larger than the chicken, or use a 10-inch skillet with an all-metal handle. Preheat the pan over medium heat. Wipe the chicken dry and set it breast side up in the pan. It should sizzle.

Place the center of the oven and listen and watch for it to start browning within 20 minutes. If it doesn’t, raise the temperature progressively until it does. The skin should blister, but if the chicken begins to char, or the fat is smoking, reduce temperature by 25 degrees. After about 30 minutes, turn the bird over — drying the bird and preheating the pan should keep the skin from sticking. Roast for another 10 to 20 minutes, depending on size, then flip back over to recrisp the breast skin, another 5 to 10 minutes. Total oven time will be 45 minutes to an hour.

While the chicken is roasting, place the pine nuts in a small baking dish and set in the hot oven for a minute or two, just to warm though. Add them to the bowl of bread.

Place a spoonful of the olive oil in a small skillet, add the garlic and scallions, and cook over medium-low heat, stirring constantly, until softened. Don’t let them color. Scrape into the bread and fold to combine. Drain the plumped currants and fold in. Dribble the chicken stock or lightly salted water over the salad and fold again. Taste a few pieces of bread-a fairly saturated one and a dryish one. If it is bland, add salt, pepper, and/or a few drops of vinegar, then toss well. Since the basic character of the bread salad depends on the bread you use, these adjustments can be essential.

Pile the bread salad in a 1-quart baking dish and tent with foil; set the salad bowl aside. Place the salad in the oven after you flip the chicken the final time.

Finishing and serving the chicken and bread salad

Remove the chicken from the oven and turn off the heat. Leave the bread salad to continue warming for another 5 minutes of so.

Lift the chicken from the roasting pan and set on a plate. Carefully pour the clear fat from the roasting oven, leaving the lean drippings behind. Add about a tablespoon of water to the hot pan and swirl it.

Slash the stretched skin between the thighs and breasts of the chicken, then tilt the bird and plate over the roasting pan to drain the juice into the drippings.

Set the chicken in a warm spot and leave to rest while you finish the bread salad. The meat will become more tender and uniformly succulent as it cools. Set a platter in the oven to warm for a minute or two.

Tilt the roasting pan and skim the last of the fat. Place over medium-low heat, add any juice that has collected under the chicken, and bring to a simmer. Stir and scrape to soften any hard golden drippings. Taste-the juices will be extremely flavorful.

Tip the bread salad into the salad bowl. It will be steamy-hot, a mixture of soft, moist wads, crispy-on-the-outside-but-moist-in-the-middle-wads, and a few downright crispy ones. Drizzle and toss with a spoonful of the pan juices. Add the greens, a drizzle of vinaigrette, and fold well. Taste again.

Cut the chicken into pieces, spread the bread salad on the warm platter, and nestle the chicken in the salad.

Excerpted from “The Zuni Cafe Cookbook,” by Judy Rogers.