smitten kitchen

Believe it or not, I’ve actually cooked dinner a few times this month. Like, three! Maybe even four. I don’t know, does a corn tortillas chmeared with refried beans, salsa and toasted with some shredded cheese on top count as dinner? Oh it does? Then definitely, most certainly four. We’re all about the refined eatin’ at the smittenkitchen.

But this dish is a winner. In fact, if I weren’t working on a few humongous projects right now I would have made it again, maybe even twice. It’s the perfect antidote to the simultaneous and conflicting internal dialogue of “I’m craving a big bowl of spaghetti!” and “But it’s bathing suit season!” Also, it’s really nice to find ways to lighten up pasta when it is hot and sticky and borderline-rainy every single day and you’re beginning to believe that you might not get to the beach even once this summer, prepared or not.

The recipe comes from Michael Chiarello and I’d seen him make it a few years ago on his Food Network show, back when they played it more than once a week, on Mondays, at 1 a.m. (Fine, I’m exaggerating, but that was indeed the last time I saw it, and it was DVRed .) It was one of those “here, I cook healthy too” episodes that always make me giggle because they usually so eloquently sum up our American confusion over what “healthy” actually means (see this cake for further evidence).

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Whoever said you can’t make a good cherry pie with sweet cherries was lying. Sure, I love a sour or tart cherry pie as much as the next cherry-lover, but when the Greenmarket only has the sweet ones, there’s no reason to run in the other direction.

It helps that they were early-season cherries, thus not as sweet as the dark purple Bings we’re getting in the supermarkets right now. But I maintain that even if their sugars were fully developed, you could have just dialed back the sugar and punched up the acidity some more to balance it out.

There’s just no excuse not to make cherry pie when they’re this pretty.

You might want to wear dark clothes when you pit the cherries.

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I know what you’re thinking: Sure, we said we wanted you to keep the pizza recipes coming, but we didn’t mean the very next day. Don’t you have any cakes or cookies or pie-of-the-non-pizza variety to break up the content with? And my answer is: This is not a pizza recipe. It’s a recipe for cheese. And it’s long overdue.

Yes, we here at the smittenkitchen had our very first cheese-making experience last weekend. Except, you know how I say “we”? Well, what I actually mean is that Alex was sitting on the sofa, thinking to himself and occasionally out loud “why can’t we just buy it”? And people, it’s like he doesn’t know me at all.

Remember the Cook This List? I’ve had ricotta, and specifically Michael Chiarello’s* recipe on it for ages, but it took a kick in the pants from The New York Times Dining Section three weeks ago to finally get me to check this item off. Luisa–organized, timely Luisa–got to it first which was great because I got a preview of what to expect: a super-cinch recipe that could use a little zing.

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I hope you’re not pizza-ed out yet–and if you are, can you tell me your secret?–because I’ve got two more coming this week. Wait, why is everyone leaving? Come back!

To the four of you left, if despite all of my pleading and listicled efforts to convince you that you don’t need a pizza stone, pizza paddle, bread machine, dough hook or hours of free time to make awesome pizza at home, I’ve got one more for you: I made one of these with a broken oven. Or a mostly-broken one. Well actually, it was totally broken, but only for a few hours. Nevertheless, it was dramatic, as you can imagine; we’re quite fond of our flimsy, tiny Apartment Standard oven in the smittenkitchen.

You see, I had bookmarked yet another lovely, simple recipe from what I think we all know by now is my current favorite cookbook, Alice Waters’ Chez Panisse Vegetables a couple weeks ago, the Pizza with Red and Yellow Peppers. Yet I was concerned that I wouldn’t get the caramelized top I wanted by baking it in my oven–every oven is different, but mine simply does not excel in top-browning. So, I decided it would be time to take my own advice and such, and cook the pizza under the broiler.

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Last weekend, I baked three birthday cakes. One of my mother’s oldest friends was turning 65, and when she mentioned that she was going to order the cake for her birthday party from a bakery, I had to object. People, when I turn 65 someone better bake me a homemade cake, is all I am saying. I think the very least someone deserves for hitting such a fine age with style is a friend, elbows-deep in flour, frosting and devotion.

So I volunteered myself, and I knew exactly what I wanted to make. I had seen this utterly insane and therefore completely and totally awesome cake on Leite’s a couple months ago. It involved all of the best things on earth: a pistachio layer cake, thin ribbons of jam, sheets of marzipan and bitter-chocolate ganache filling and coating. It had marzipan flowers on top, with a trail of pistachios simulating leaves. It was the prettiest things I have ever seen.

But as we got to discussing what would work for her party, we decided to go another route, one that would ensure there would be something for everyone, and in a move that everyone I know still considers utterly insane, I offered to bake three: one Hazelnut Brown Butter Cake (I doubled it, filled and coated it with ganache), one Tiramisu Cake and one Perfect Party Cake from Dorie Greenspan (don’t worry, I’ll get to this one soon). What can I say? I imagined three square cakes lined up on their stands, and the cuteness was almost too much to bear.

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