weeknight tomato soup

While this is not the Smitten Kitchen’s only tomato soup — there’s one with roasted summer tomatoes capped with an open-faced grilled cheese sandwich in the archives, and further back, a classic cream of tomato soup adapted from Cook’s Illustrated — neither are this: a seasonless tomato soup I can make on any rainy day, along with the nonnegotaible grilled cheese sandwiches, in under an hour. Both of the archived recipes have their charms; the first is great when tomatoes are at their peak. The second is excellent but fussy, more ideal for when you’ve got the time or patience to show off. But this has eclipsed both in the rotation for the last couple winters, and a few things make it perfect for us:

Recipe

chocolate raspberry pavlova stack

It’s been way too long since we had a showstopper of a dessert. When I look over the last four years of archives, it seems that practical, slightly boring and grownup things like salad and dinner have nudged out cooking purely for the purpose of generating and distributing decadent joy. The Celebration Cake category looks like the land that time forgot. And so on this very snowy/slushy day, and the day before Valentine’s, no less, I’d like to recommend: Not a weeknight dinner.

Recipe

crispy potatoes with mushrooms

I like to think that I made a smashing impression on my Russian in-laws when I met them — at the time, I didn’t eat meat or, more importantly, smoked fish. I remain staunch in my dislike of beets. And shortly after we got married I started talking about quitting my day job to… blog full time. But I took a liking to pickles immediately. I make a pretty solid eggplant caviar, because I learned from the best. I’ve since figured out Honey Cake and Russian Napoleon. And although the vegetarian options were limited at the time when we first met at the Russian Vodka Room, I quickly discovered my favorite Russian comfort food, fried potatoes and mushrooms (kartoshka s’gribami).

Recipe

french onion baked lentils and farro

This is clearly not a pasta bake, but it was supposed to be one. From November to December, I was pursued by a vision of an oozy, decadent french onion pasta bake — that is, the flavors of french onion soup applied to baked pasta with a bronzed and broiled gruyere topping. What was not to love? How could it not be delicious? But it was never right. I made it a few times and I never wanted to eat it. It was too rich and didn’t have enough to bite into, even by the intended standard of holiday indulgence. In the last round, I added cauliflower to it so it felt like more of a pasta-and-vegetable bake and I liked it even less (damp? somehow).

Recipe

rolled spinach omelet

A frequently asked question I get about *all of this* (waves hands in the general direction of the internet/air) is where I get my inspiration from. And almost without fail, I will say “not here.” No offense to this space we’ve created, but inspiration hits when I’m not pressed to find it, like when I’m on a bus or in a cab, looking out the window, or traveling — in this case, in DC a few months ago. I was there for the wedding of an old college friend (hi Aaron!) and another friend (hi different Aaron!) had a brunch at her house the next morning to celebrate and the unbelievable spread in her gorgeous house included not one but two rolled omelets and I was riveted. “WHAT IS THIS!” and she said, “This old thing? It’s so easy! I’ve been making it forever!” and I was like, “No. Tell me everything.”

Recipe

olive oil brownies

I did not intend to disappear for so long! In early October I was putting the finishing touches on a cake that manages to incorporate 2.5 pounds of apples (perfect for people like me who show no self-control nor willingness to learn from the previous season’s excess at orchards) when the world went to hell, our thoughts were not with food, and by the time I emerged it was November, a month I’ve spent mostly on a mini book tour when there is never enough time to come up for air. I need my sofa, some quiet, and a window with a view of the last bits of golden leaves clinging to trees to stare through, which brings me at last to today. Please know: Life gets busy, my schedule goes off the rails, but I will always come back to this space because I like it here, I like hanging out with you, and 17 years hasn’t changed this. The longer I’m away, the more delicious the backlog — it’s going to be a fantastic December.

Recipe

chicken rice with buttered onions

Over the last few years, and particularly during those long months of 2020, we got really into variations on “chicken rice” — chicken and rice cooked together in an aromatic broth that together is the most cozy, comforting thing. The rice is crazy flavorful, drinking up any seasonings and/or vegetables you add to the pan. The chicken is tender and juicy. The dish keeps well even if I’m making it many hours earlier than dinner and the leftovers are phenomenal. It’s relatively inexpensive and I’ve almost always got at least the rice and various pantry items around to make it work. It should run for president.

Recipe

simple eggplant parmesan

Last year I told you that despite it being the opposite of eggplant season, I crave eggplant parmesan incessantly each winter. I mean, who doesn’t want an aromatic, cheese-stretchy, cozy casserole of ziti-like flavors, but without the heaviness of the pasta sometimes, right? What this post omitted was my recipe, which was kind of rude. The truth is that I wasn’t completely comfortable sharing the recipe because it’s not a True eggplant parmesan, or so I believed. It’s not breaded, it’s not fried, and there’s definitely no ricotta. Even the title of the recipe as it was saved on my computer was self-conscious: (Not Really) Eggplant Parmesan.

Recipe

corn cacio e pepe

As the year is not 2017, when the cacio e pepe frenzy (outside of Rome, where it’s never not on the menu) seemed to have reached peak frenzy and when I put a cross between potatoes Anna and cacio e pepe on the cover of my second cookbook, I’d only choose the dog days of summer 2023 to talk about cacio e pepe once again for a single reason: A worthy update. The only thing I love more than the combination of salty, funky pecorino cheese and copious amounts of black pepper kicking up sparks of heat on a tangle of linguine is the way I make it in the summer: adding sweet, crunchy corn. It is, full stop, the perfect complement to the punchy cheese sauce; they’re made for each other.
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