smitten kitchen: Recent Episodes
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Do you ever look around at the ingredients available to you, the energy you have to give to the cooking process — or, as I recently explained to a medium-sized child shortly before I got uninvited from future family events, the amount of fudge you have left to give from your, uh, bucket of fudge — and decided to boil spaghetti, toss it with garlicky olive oil, and call it dinner?Read more »
I realize as far as recipes go, suggesting one needs one for lemonade is questionable. What’s next, a set of detailed instructions for salted water, simple syrup, or buttered noodles? (Whoops!) But it turns out I have opinions on everything and there’s no time like the nth heat wave of the summer to share what I consider the correct, best formula for lemonade and it is — who could have ever seen this coming? — mine.Read more »
In something I never expected to have to clarify, this is a hot dog recipe but it is not a recipe for hot dogs. I know that I have a history of making foods from scratch that most sane people do not feel the need to — cream cheese, fig newtons, bagels, vanilla extract, and [coming soon] almond extract too — but I do still leave “grinding meat with spices, salt, and curing agents into a smooth, fine emulsion” before being “stuffed into casings and smoked” to the experts, usually at Hebrew National.Read more »
In 2007, when this website was still in its infancy, I shared a recipe for a layered strawberry chiffon shortcake. I’d never made a chiffon cake before, but I brought it to a friend’s rooftop birthday BBQ, correctly assuming that no one would be unhappy with a towering, featherweight cake sandwiched with whipped cream and fresh strawberries, however inexpertly made.Read more »
One of my most exasperating traits — or, perhaps one that makes me ideally suited for this space I invented, coincidentally, to suit my collection of traits — is that I have a terrific amount of random ingredient preparation ideas in the overflowing file cabinet of my brain that will spill into conversations the second I hear the triggering keyword.Read more »
I’m not sure if this is a sign of hitting a certain age — like a sudden interest in bird feeders (check, and please tell me about yours), or beekeeping (well, in the TikTok sense, not sorry), and animated conversations on the best pillows (I hate mine) — but I’ve found over the last year that I have very strong opinions on chicken salad and the correct way to make it, which, naturally, is my way. I hope I’m in the right place to release them into the world.Read more »
While I’m not from a cheesecake family — it is never unwelcome, but we are more deeply devoted to things like pastry creams, chocolate pudding, and stellar coffee cakes — I married into one, which means that even though this site’s cheesecake archives are very well-populated, not a single peep of protest could be heard as far as my apartment walls reach (to be fair, a short distance) as I tinkered with these bars over the last few weeks.Read more »
If there’s anything that’s been consistent about this site in its near-20 years of beaming (babbling?) hypertext to servers and back to you, it’s that I’m very bossy when I get into something new, especially cocktails. When I fell in love with Porch Swings, I wanted you to as well. Ditto for Blood Orange Margaritas (but only when in season), a Perfect Manhattan era that spanned over a decade, Boulevardier that has been woven into almost every year since, and a Slushy Paper Plane phase last year. This past winter and spring still, it’s been Sidecars, 1920s-era cocktails with about as many conflicting stories as my kids regale us with when they didn’t do their homework.Read more »
I’ve been pining for a springy way to combine leeks and lentils in an unfussy, one-pot, weeknight-friendly meal but would get stuck on one thing: how annoying leeks are — and I say this from a place of adoration! I think leeks are one of the most stunning vegetables, an ombre of chromatic ringlets from buttery yellow to pea green and back to a pale shade of lima. They look exactly like spring (even though it’s climatically July outside but will be March again next week), and taste even better: Oniony but not harsh and silky, wonderful, and a little sweet when braised. They should be everywhere, but first we need to address the fact that if you go to the store or market for a bundle of leeks right now, you have no idea how much leek you’re getting.Read more »
I was in Paris* last week — no, I cannot believe I get to utter sentences like that so casually, either, pinch me — and it was really, truly, and surprisingly spring. The magnolia trees at the Jardin du Palais Royal supplied us with a lace curtain of fluttering pink shadows, the daffodils and hyacinth were popping up from the ground like they’d missed us, and everyone was outside and stayed out until after midnight and this energy climbed inside me, evicted all of the seasonal malaise (turned out I was just cold!), and I did my best to bring all of this warmth and joy back to NYC with me. And despite the fact that my grouchy (sorry, “weathered”) friends tried to warn me that we were experiencing a “false spring” and “don’t fall for it,” la la la, I said, it is spring in my heart now — and in my kitchen, and busted out a warm weather salad. Which is to say: I’m sorry, this sudden cold spell might be my fault.Read more »
I hadn’t planned to spend most of the fall to date making skillets upon skillets of baked, gooey, decadent macaroni and cheese, though given the state of things right now, perhaps this steady dose of comfort food was some unintended brilliance on my part. But mostly it started because we had baked mac and cheese from The Smith one night. My kids fought over the last scrapings from the pan and I reminded them — I honestly don’t even think they realize it sometimes — that I could make it for them, too. And so the next night, I pulled up my trusty Martha’s mac-and-cheese, a forever SK and internet favorite, and it immediately …irked me. Start with cooked pasta? Warm the milk for the bechamel? So many pans, so many bowls, so many steps. On a Tuesday, no less. It felt unacceptable.Read more »
Confession time! As someone with more opinions than I can fit in three cookbooks, one audiobook, and even 18 years of archives on this website, sometimes when I want to grumble about something food-related but it’s not the time or place, I tuck it in a little document called “rants” that is so full of cringe, you only have my permission to publish posthumously. But I can’t write a headnote for this particular cake without first owning up to #23 on the list in advance: “Apple cider cakes are lies.” Which begs the questions: Who hurt you, Deb? What gives? Essentially, my quibble is that you can put all of the wonderful fresh-pressed apple cider you want in a cake, but it rarely comes through to actually taste like apple cider. The flavor is not robust enough. I’m not saying it can’t be wildly delicious with all of the cinnamon spice we also put in these cakes, but it rarely, to me, tastes like an accurate representation of its name.Read more »
“I was looking for a simple roasted carrot recipe on your site and couldn’t find one,” a friend told me a month ago and I immediately put “simple roasted carrot recipe” on my sprawling, decades-long To Cook list because sometimes I forget myself, too. Spoiler: I was never going to write a simple recipe for roasted carrots. Read more »
What if I told you I had a from-scratch cinnamon roll recipe that was effortlessly veganized, required no kneading, and could be coming out of your oven in just over two hours? And what if I told you’d I’d been making it for years and didn’t tell you about it because I thought, for some bizarre reason, that the site didn’t need another breakfast bun recipe? Yes, I’d throw a jar of cinnamon at my head too. Good news, though, you can stop yelling now because I’ve come to my senses.
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It’s humbling that way every September, without fail, knocks me on my rump. One week, you’re breezy and unscheduled, reading books on a beach and tearing lobster apart with your bare hands (indeed, we were in Maine) and the next you’re realizing a certain fetid backpack was never emptied on the last day of school in June, scrambling for after-school care, and despite the fact that I work every week of the year, somehow there’s a lot more to do. If dinner can’t be made in one pan in which everything cooks at once, I haven’t been making it. And yet I’ve made this chicken dish four times in the last month; it’s clearly time to shout about it across the internet.
I trace this back to a newsletter from Clare de Boer last April (and if you don’t subscribe, you should; it’s wonderful), in which she was on a mission to find a sheet pan chicken recipe that actually had crispy skin, and found it in a pan of chicken thighs with lemon and onion. I, too, am a crispy chicken skin skeptic; it’s not that I don’t believe it gets crisp, but I find it rarely stays that way once it has rested or when other ingredients join the party. But, curiosity got the better of me — curiosity, but not, uh, any kind of adherence to the recipe as written because see above: I need everything to be a meal-in-one-pan right now. I added potatoes (because potatoes with chicken and lemon are excellent) and chickpeas (I’m honestly less clear on why, but it felt right) to a baking dish (not sheet pan) and despite all of my changes, was still entirely delighted with the outcome.
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If you were to make a multi-part Venn diagram combining my favorite salad things, you could nestle this right in the center. It’s one part wedge salad, the fork and steak knife kind, something I am so into I talked my podcast co-host Kenji (okay, it wasn’t hard) into dedicating a whole episode to it. And it contains cabbage, and not just cabbage but Napa cabbage, which I think deserves more credit as a salad green. [This can be convenient to know as it often comes in heads large enough to feed a small family for a week.] Napa cabbage is a little leafy, a little crunchy, and yet kind of juicy too and I’ve used it, sliced thin, everything from this Italian-style salad to a classic Caesar.
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Consider this the summer flip of one of my favorite recipes in my third cookbook, Smitten Kitchen Keepers — the apple butterscotch crisp. Read more »
Last summer, when my younger child joined my older child at sleepaway camp for a month for the first time, leaving us unmoored and a little restless, we made a list of restaurants we’d been meaning to try and friends we don’t see enough and took this task on like it was our job. I barely cooked once. By the end of the third week, everything hurt and we realized our template for a child-free life (going out late, cocktails on weeknights, and generally behaving despicably) was based on our age and energy level when we were last child-free, which (I’m sorry as this fact seems to upset you guys as much as it does his actual parents) was almost 15 years ago. Read more »
This has been my go-to summer steak for the last several years and I have some audacity to have gatekept it for so long. Mostly, we’ve been too busy eating it for me to grab the camera and shoot it and then sit down and write the recipe, which is hilarious as that’s, like, my whole job. But my brain softens in the summer, especially when my kids are away at sleepaway camp, as they are now, and we quickly lose whatever tethers we had to things like to-do lists, responsibilities, and adulting. And while I do not expect a skirt steak with a cherry tomato and sweet corn salad to shake the cooking internet off its axis, there are a bunch of tips tucked into this recipe that make it a reliable favorite, and I hope become part of your repertoire too.Read more »
Even though my kids are not yet on summer break and even though I, as an adult, do not have a thing called a summer break, I’ve apparently helped myself to one. I’m sneaking off to the beach on weekdays (oops), reading novels, gorging myself on cherries and crisp-from-the-market cucumbers, playing midday tennis like a lady who lunches, and getting vexed when I receive work-related emails and texts. [“Alex, why are they texting me on a Sunday?” “Deb, it’s Tuesday.”]I went to the small Greenmarket in my neighborhood yesterday with no plan except to buy more cucumbers and cherries and hoped I’d find something inspiring, forgetting that in June, everything is. I was filling my bag with three types of zucchini, peaches, onions, sugar snaps, green and yellow beans, beefsteak tomatoes, and fresh peas when I spotted the chef-owner of a favorite neighborhood restaurant across the table. As I am incapable of not excitedly prattling on about cooking the moment I see the smallest even totally unsolicited opportunity to, I asked what he was planning to do with the romano beans he was bagging (pressure cook, it turns out — so cool!) and I was about to ask him if he’d ever grilled peas in their pods whole and eaten them like edamame… and abruptly realized that I don’t think I’ve ever told you that we should be grilling peas in their pods whole and eating them like edamame. So I rushed home to do just that, delighted to have succeeded in finding something to keep my focus on work for the rest of the afternoon.
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While I do not think that the internet necessarily needs another recipe for burnt Basque cheesecake, it turns out I did. And since you’re stuck with me for as long as you’re here, pull up a chair, because we can’t get enough of this one. What is burnt basque cheesecake? Also called San Sebastian cheesecake, it’s been around since the late 80s when it was created by a cook named Santiago Rivera at his restaurant and pintxo bar, La Viña, in San Sebastián, Spain. There are a whole bunch of things that set it apart from American-style cheesecakes, the biggest is that there’s no graham crust. In an interview, Rivera explained that when you bite into it, the cookie “prevents the cream cheese part from dissolving” — he wanted it to be more like chocolate mousse “so the flavor goes straight from the fork to your palate to your brain, instantaneously.”
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My superpower? Dropping recipes so late on the Friday of a holiday weekend, absolutely nobody will see them. Well, except you. I’m here for us last-minute planners, we indecisive “I want to make something new this weekend, but nothing has jumped out at me.” I hope we can stop scrolling now.
I haven’t been able to get Jessica Merchant’s chimichurri and pistachio grilled feta out of my head since it crossed my social media threshold a couple weeks ago. I’ve been on a green chimichurri kick (how 90s!) for the last month when I realized, after making some in preparation for the grilled chicken episode of The Recipe with Kenji and Deb that I never needed to let leftover parsley go to waste again. A bundle so easily makes a batch of one of the greatest of all the great fresh green sauces and I’ve been putting it on everything since… but feta. Until now.
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It’s been about what how has it been almost 8 years since I overhauled an old blueberry muffin recipe in the archives to turn them into what I consider the highest calling of the category, perfect in taste (not too sweet, dreamy crumb, lemon scented, absolutely riddled with blueberries, and finished with the crunchiest bronzed lid, perfect for lifting off in a satisfying shell and swiping the underside with salted butter) and ease (one-bowl, hand-whisked, even measurements, fuss free ingredients). Because who cares if a muffin recipe is perfect if I can’t throw it together half-asleep like the zombie I am most mornings? I’m thrilled that so many of you agreed.Read more »
Letter of recommendation: Make a deep skillet of your favorite taco or burrito filling, cover it with cheese and broil the whole lot of it in the oven, then scoop it up with tortilla chips. I hope you’re not asking “Why?” Because I know you heard the part about the lightly charred and gooey cheese on top? Did I mention that you get to eat chips for dinner, which, to be fair, you can do anytime you want (adulthood!) but this actually involves a lot of vegetables (adulthood excellence!).
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Artichokes are my favorite vegetable. My favorite way to eat them is the way I have my whole life: cooked whole, each leaf dipped in a sharp lemony sauce until you get to the heart, whose choke you free with a butter knife then schmear with the sauce like you’re thickly buttering a piece of bread, and eat it while holding the stem like a lollipop, your eyes closed as you absorb the heady bliss of it all. Clearly, it means a lot to me but I’m not sharing a recipe with three words: Just boil them. A few years ago I started steaming artichokes instead of boiling them and found I preferred it — less wet, and seemingly more evenly cooked. But it still didn’t warrant mention here, though, too simple.Read more »
Over the pandemic, I quietly broke up with every pizza dough recipe I’ve shared to date. I know I have some nerve only telling you this now. The family wanted pizza for dinner weekly, and I was overdue for a homemade pizza reckoning. Why? Because after years of trying to get my home oven even half as hot as the ones at pizzerias that crank out gloriously blistered and glistening pies, and too often ending up with disappointing textures, I finally realized I was chasing the wrong pizza dream. Instead of fighting an uphill battle, I replaced my usual pizza dough with a no-knead focaccia-ish dough that bakes up beautifully in a regular oven, perfectly every single time.
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Hasn’t it always been too long since your last slice of profoundly perfect crumb cake? You know, the kind that’s a hefty square with at least as much height from big brown sugar and cinnamon crumbs as from a golden, buttery, sour cream-enriched and vanilla-scented cake? Yes, me too. I didn’t expect to be back here so soon, though. I truly believed I’d finished my Crumb Cake Degree in 2021 with the still-perfect-in-every-way Big Apple Crumb Cake. But sometimes, perfection is a process.Read more »
Meatloaf has a PR problem. It took me a while to come around to it; I didn’t grow up eating it, and certainly nothing about the name — a loaf, a loaf of meat — convinced me I was missing a thing. But, slowly, I have tiptoed into the light, and now I get it. It’s not cute, but it’s objectively delicious. Imagine if we only ate things that were camera-ready — it would be a world without gravy, mushroom soup, and lopsided made-with-love frosted cakes. We absolutely must not stand for that.Read more »
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:Read more »
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.Read more »
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).Read more »
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).Read more »
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.”Read more »
Fifteen Decembers ago, I shared a recipe for one of the most delicious cookies I’d ever made or eaten: brown butter brown sugar shorties. I told you that because they were impossibly flavorful (nutty brown butter, brown sugar, vanilla, you’re welcome) but not terribly cute (beige, sprinkle-free) you should feel free to keep them home from parties where their feelings could be hurt as they were ignored in favor of the frosted, baubled, and brightly colored popular kids. They’re too good to share, anyway.Read more »
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 it 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 title of the recipe as it was saved on my computer was self-conscious: (Not Really) Eggplant Parmesan.
So what changed? Going to Italy this summer! We ordered eggplant parmesan (parmigiana di melanzane) almost every time we saw it on the menu and do you know what would come out? A dish that looked like this — no breading, no crumbs, no ricotta. It made more sense when I read about the history of the dish from Emiko Davies which I’ll simply link to rather than poorly summarize (it’s fascinating!) but it also gave me the nudge to finally spring the recipe from my kitchen to yours.
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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 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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Once upon a time, I spent approximately a whole summer making blueberry muffins, gripped with an obsession (that would be worrisome anywhere but this page) to make what I hoped would be the last blueberry muffin recipe we’d ever need. You’d think after all that that the path to these raspberry muffins would be simpler, but it took five raspberry seasons to get here. A very logical question you’re about to ask is: Why not just swap the blueberries in your blueberry muffins with raspberries? And the answer is that while it works; they’re not bad at all, they’re just not the raspberry muffin I dreamed of. These are and they’re utterly perfect: hefty, moist, lemony, not too sweet, and absolutely tie-dyed with a constellation of raspberries inside. I think they might be the best muffin I have ever made. Here’s what I’ve learned along the way:
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Earlier this summer, I made what I thought was just a dinner salad that turned out to be my new favorite dinner salad of all time and it was literally all I could talk about for the next few weeks. Incessantly. Insufferably. I didn’t even wait to ask if you’re into buffalo wings (of course you are), cobb salads (you could be, I can just tell) or looking for a dinner idea. It’s just not who I am. Perhaps even less surprising was realizing I have very strong opinions about how to adapt the idea buffalo wings to things that are not buffalo wings, which means I’m about to break down my favorite parts of all this:
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I know we’re in the midst of the nth heatwave of the summer and the idea of eating anything but a bowl of cold cherries or, worse, something that requires you turn your oven on sounds about as unappealing as that curiously empty subway car [that definitely has no a/c or worse] but trust me when I say that someone in your friend group, family, or life has a birthday coming up and they’re hoping that you make them this.
This is the lightweight, semi-collapsed disc of cognac-kissed dark chocolate I nominate to be your backpocket, arsenal-worthy decadent cake for small but fancy times. It’s been in my rotation for well over a decade — I’ve shared riffs on it in these cupcakes and in the tiny but intense chocolate cake in this book — because while I could never get into those dense, nap-inducing bittersweet chocolate cakes of the early aughts, a few adjustments led me to this dream. Here’s what sets it apart:
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A little catch-up: Two days ago, our kids boarded a bus to sleepaway camp while dozens of parents waved like (I’d like to think adorable but also value self-awareness) lunatics as it pulled away. I learned a few years ago when my son went to camp for the first time that I become unmoored — who am I if nobody demands things and interrupts my thoughts all day?! — without the presence of my adorable but exhausting offspring. Last summer, I ran out of cooking steam while waiting for my daughter to request anything but noodles for dinner. This summer, despite the fact that she’s a baby who was just born (don’t tell me otherwise), my daughter also wanted to go to camp, mostly because she wants to be wherever her brother is and I’m not crying, you are. Fortunately, from the photos I refresh, refresh on the camp app all day — in lieu of doing anything more productive or even hedonistic with my time — show them to be having a blast and how could they not be when the first night ended with whipped cream pies in the faces of the counselors on the losing team and nobody challenges their palates beyond pizza, chicken nuggets, and waffles?
This is still a cooking blog, I promise. But if the structure of my cooking life for the last 13.75 years has been shaped to the needs of people who need to be fed multiple times a day, what is left? The reality is that when my kids are away for one night or three, we just go out. We live in New York City; why on earth would we be washing dishes if we could be getting queso fundito and the Caeser-y tomatillo salad at Yellow Rose, as we did Sunday night, or meeting friends at Win Son, as we will later this week, or sweeping sourdough through the garlic-chile butter puddle left behind by the prawns a la plancha while drinking vermouth at Cervo’s, as I’m sure we will weekly?
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When things are quiet around here, one of two things are usually happening: I’m busy with a side project or traveling far from the physical Smitten Kitchen. Or, I’m really obsessed with eating something that I don’t expect to interest anyone but me. This month we have two for two. For the three weeks before I was briefly in San Francisco and Napa last week, I was absolutely fixated on this sandwich. Fixated! I craved it everyday. Sometimes it was breakfast; sometimes it was lunch. I could walk by a bagel shop wafting with warm everything seeds, by a cloud of bodega bacon egg and cheese sandwiches, and still beeline home to put a cold boiled egg on a roll with arugula. I know I make no sense. I decided to keep this weirdo thing myself but then I returned from California and yes, I had a suitcase full of Model Bakery english muffins and a stash of Dandelion Chocolate hot chocolate mix, and I still just needed this. I have finally accepted that the only way to move on, at least for long enough that I could tackle the rest of the amazing things I have on our cooking agenda for the summer, was to exorcise it, whether anyone cares to join in my strange little preoccupation or not.
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I would like to make clear from the outset that I do not think we, this site, or even the internet necessarily needs a new recipe for lemonade. I’ve covered lemonade that’s picnic pink (with any berry you like), with watermelon, with cucumber, with maple syrup and bourbon, and even lime and mint. But the thing I ran into when my kids left me, once again, with a basket of overpriced strawberries on their last legs — fruit they’d asked me to buy but then mysteriously lost interest in eating when it was presented to them at breakfast — and I decided to instead turn strawberries into strawberry-ade, so to speak, was that every lemonade recipe I’ve already published contains steps I lacked inclination to do. Read more »
There was a moment a dozen or so years ago when sliders were all the rage on restaurant menus. Precious little burgers (the traditional slider) and more clever ones like meatballs and fritters would teeter with tweezer-applied toppings on tiny buns and unless you unhinge your mandible to engulf (slide?) your wobbly prey whole, it was a bit of a mess too. So why am I channeling the year 2009? Sliders have been having a renaissance in my kitchen this spring because I finally realized their size is perfect for smaller eaters and makes for far more appetizing leftovers than, say, a cold burger with several bites removed, sogged into a day-old bun. Read more »
It’s not entirely healthy or sane, but I can fiddle with a recipe for years before finally getting it out the door. What is done? What is ready? Aren’t we all works in progress, forging paths to even more greatness? Sometimes it’s obvious when a recipe is ready to laminate and tuck in our forever files; I love those days. Sometimes, the longer I leave it, the more it metamorphosizes. What I’m trying to say is that in 2020, this was a tater tot recipe. In 2021, it became a giant tot, i.e. a thick hash brown patty, and also gluten-free. In 2022, because I’m so attached to the Trader Joe’s version stashed in my freezer and wanted these more like that, it became thinner. Read more »
Merely three weeks ago, I lamented the mediocrity and afterthought-ness of most meatless entrees, so often cobbled together from sides of other dishes. Because I love a plot twist, it seems only right that this week I tell you about my favorite salad which happens to be — you guessed it — cobbled from the sides of other dishes. I used to order it from a taco place in our neighborhood before they changed the recipe, and even though I knew it was just the most filler-y lettuce, the pickled onions, sliced radishes, pepitas, and crumbled cotija they’d use to garnish their other offerings, masquerading as a salad, I did not care. Sometimes it works. Here, it sings. It’s absolutely perfect: crunchy, bright, creamy, and inhalable. Read more »
I realize that sharing a new recipe for a carrot cake the day after Easter is about as useful as a new latke recipe the day after Hanukkah ends or a perfect buche de noel on December 26th. I’d intended to share this a week ago and — hubris alert! — I was patting myself on my back for my own cleverness, the first sign things are going to head south. What could be more perfect for a week that contained both Easter and Passover, while also saving so many people the work of having to adapt a gluten- or dairy-full cake to not include them? Nothing! But I was unraveled by dual forces: first, some confusion about whether or not baking powder, a leavener, is allowed on Passover, a holiday that prohibits leavened breads [turns out it is!] and also by our own Seder preparations [we had 16 people here on Wednesday night; I’m criminally bad at outsourcing so I cooked for 3.5 days straight]. And that brings us up to today. A lovely thing about having a 16 year-old for a cooking blog, however, is that even poorly-timed arrivals tend to find their rightful place in the archives. When you come looking for a flourless carrot cake, be it today, next week, or next April holiday season, this will be here, seemingly right on time.Read more »
While I haven’t been strictly vegetarian in a long time, I still hold petty grudges, grudges that I work out here in the form of the dishes I’d have preferred as options, over the mediocrity, the afterthought-ness, of most meatless entrees (gloopy pastas or vegetables cobbled together from sides from other dishes), sandwiches (cheese and sometimes soggy lettuce or tomato), and burritos (so much filler). A recent trip to a Tex-Mex chain left me surprised as not much had changed. And as I chewed down my football-sized wrap that was 80% rice, 15% beans, 5% salsa and cheese, my old resentment came back in full force. Vegetarian entrees, sandwiches, and tacos can be so much more! Let’s start here.
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A few months ago, and honestly not for the first or realistically the last time, my family betrayed me. It started, almost predictably, with the youngest. I made waffles one morning, so proud of myself for remembering to start the yeasted waffle batter, my favorite, the night before — and my daughter told me that she prefers the waffles at grandma’s house. “What kind does grandma make?” I asked. “They’re in the freezer,” she told me. “I think they say ‘egg’ on them?”
I think we all know where this was going. I was traveling a wee bit over the last few months and decided before a trip to surprise her with a giant box of Eggos in the freezer. When I got home at the end of the week, the whole box was gone. It turns out that it isn’t just my daughter who prefers them, it’s my son too, and even my husband. The treachery!
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I’ve been working up the courage to tell you about this dish for a few years. Why courage, you might ask? What’s courageous about the timeless combination of broccoli and pasta, Deb? It’s the cooking time. This broccoli is not al dente. It does not “retain a crunch,” “still have some bite to it,” or keep any of the verdant green hue it entered the pan with. And, even more audacious, it doesn’t wish to. This broccoli applies a philosophy of vegetable cooking times fairly polarized from our current moment, when the minutes we walk vegetables by the fire have plunged so far that some of us even advocate for eating cauliflower, asparagus, and even broccoli raw. [Or, in a twist on the words of a steak cooking chart I once saw on the wall of a restaurant in Texas: A good farmer could still save the vegetable.] But there is a time and place for all vegetable cookery, and this is the one that really made me fall in love with what happens when broccoli is cooked until it begins to melt. What is key is that this is not the bland, soggy, boiled to death broccoli nightmare of someone’s childhood cafeteria or dinner at grandma’s house. [Justice for grandmothers, always, however, for feeding us ingrates anyway.] This is more silky, closer to braised, and has an elusive vegetable sweetness, a nod of vegetable confit, that only comes with the luxury of the unrushed.
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a clean-out-the-fridge salad
I spend a possibly unhealthy amount of time … oh you thought I was going to say scrolling TikTok and watching other people clean their apartments? I mean, yes, that too. But I was going to say debating whether one needs a recipe for something I like to make, such as a salad. Doesn’t everyone just grab random things that need to be used up and assemble them with a dressing? Yet my other favorite thing on social media is when something appears in my feed that I didn’t know I was craving and I spontaneously must stop what I’m doing and kick all of my existing cooking plans to the curb to make it. What if this is the one that provides this for you?
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Welcome to the decadent meal I dream about every late December, when I want even simple foods to feel festive. Yes, I am seriously making the argument that baked brie should be a dinner dish. Or, if not dinner, maybe a luxe part of it, so perfect for this blustery, celebratory time of year. For dinner you might eat this with a big green salad and a cup of soup. You might set this out as a side dish with a big roast. You might put it out as part of a party spread too, an oasis of savory among all of the cookies and molten cakes. Read more »
Today my third cookbook, Smitten Kitchen Keepers, comes out and thank goodness, because it’s been impossibly hard to keep it from you this long. It feels downright unfair that I figured out how to make the best molasses cookie — thick, tender, but also one-bowl, no hand-mixer required, the kind that makes your whole home smell like the holidays — and you’re only finding out about it today. My favorite pot roast is in there; sometimes I add rice shortly before it’s done for a truly one-pot meal-of-a-braise that feels perfect for this cold week. There’s a warm hoagie that’s practically a vegetarian cheesesteak. The most perfect chocolate chip cookie I could possibly dream up is there (it has salted walnut brittle inside). A deep dish, actual doorstop of a broccoli cheddar quiche that serves a crowd and an egg salad, just for us. The easiest three-layer chocolate party cake that could ever exist is filled with a salt-flecked milk chocolate buttercream and it’s designed to fit in the bottom of a shopping bag so you can take it everywhere with you. The actual craziest thing I’ve suggested you do with cabbage (salt, vinegar, and char it), might lead to the craziest thing you do with cabbage (eat it from the pan, standing up). There are cream cheese and jam challah buns that make me think of my dad and there’s a pound cake that I hope could be worth the cover price alone.
They’re all, to me, keepers — the kind of recipes that you make and know instantly that you’ll want them to be part of your repertoires forever. For 17 years on this site, I’ve paid close attention to what happens when we are in kitchen and I try to apply everything I’ve learned about how to make shopping easier, cooking more doable and enjoyable, and the outcomes more reliably delicious. Because if you hate making the recipe — if the process was persnickety and you dirtied every bowl in your kitchen — it barely matters if the result was otherworldly, you’re going to avoid it. And I want these to be recipes you, above all, love to make.
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This is an apple and cheddar salad and I would humbly argue an excellent one, the best I’ve ever made, but this recipe is also an excuse for me to share a few of the best tricks I keep up my sleeve (I always wanted to be a cook who said things like that, when what you might actually find is a lost piece of popcorn) to make the kinds of complex salads I can never resist on a cafe menu at home as simply as possible. Because we deserve to have fancy, cool, crunchy, dynamic, and gorgeous salads at home, even if we do not live a life that allows us to afford fancy salads made by others on a regular basis. Read more »
Welcome to the cutting room floor. Whenever I finish a cookbook, there are recipes that didn’t make the final book not because they’re flawed in any way, but because they weren’t necessary. Smitten Kitchen Keepers already has a couple great savory breads and sufficient caramelized onion magnificence, so I pulled this recipe out because I knew it would be perfect for the site, right now. Why? This week is the most significant Jewish holiday of the year, Yom Kippur, a day of atonement. It is traditional fast for the day, and the fast is traditionally broken with a dairy meal, quite often a giant spread of bagels and fixings. But that wasn’t the first time I made this. In March 2020, when the whole world shut down, so of course did all of the bagel shops in my neighborhood. I started making easy bagel-y breads so we could still enjoy our cream cheese and lox weekend fix. This one has a cool history, too.
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The Smitten Kitchen Cookbook, my first cookbook, turns 10 years old in a few weeks, and inside it is what I call one of the best summer desserts I’ve ever made, peach dumplings with bourbon hard sauce. These were a whim that occured to me one morning before dawn when my then-baby (and, as of 11 days ago, a Bar Mitzvah) woke up early and lacked interest in going back to sleep and my mind drifted, as it does, to things I’d like to cook.
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As long as we are a full six days before fall begins, I am allowed to sneak in one more zucchini recipe. It would be right there in my contract, had I one, above the expectation of ironed shoelaces and below that of a daily slice of chocolate biscuit cake. I’d actually intended this recipe for July (and the eggplant involtini for August). But July was so hot, and August wasn’t much better; I couldn’t bring myself to publish recipes that require oven time, so I waited for a better moment to arrive. Our patience has been rewarded; this brothy, late summer-y bowl of pasta and meatballs is absolutely perfect for right now, with the kind of sunny warm days that require a morning and evening cardigan — i.e. the very best weather on this earth, full stop. Read more »
It makes no sense at all, but for most of this past winter, I craved eggplant parmesan. I tried to tell myself that we were half a year to eggplant season and would I prefer some… cabbage or turnip parmesan instead? (I would not.) I made it a few times. I ordered it in a few others. I finally got it out of my system and then in the past month I’ve seen Reel after TikTok for eggplant involtini and the magical combination of silky eggplant, tomato sauce, and sharp, melty cheese’s hold over me has returned. At least this time my craving has seasonal compliance. Read more »
A logical progression after making zucchini butter spaghetti a few times — provided you’re a person who likes zucchini, butter, and spaghetti, or what happens when the first two melt silkily against the third — is to ask yourself, what can I butter next? What vegetable wants to be cooked down until it’s tender, concentrated, and almost buttery and then fused with actual butter to make something better than both things? My friend Alissa and I debated this a couple months ago, cycling through carrots, peas, and tomatoes before landing on corn. Except it was more like oh my god: CORN!*
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Listen, I don’t make the rules. These things aren’t rational. But at some point over our vacation in Scotland — a time when we mostly consumed fish and chips, more chips, steak pie, also with chips, a detail that I’m sure is unrelated — I began intensely craving the combination of peaches and blue cheese even though I can’t think of a time when they’ve crossed paths in my kitchen. Once we got home, I beelined for Salad Freak by Jess Damuck [Amazon, Bookshop, More Indies], a cookbook that came out this spring, because I had a hunch she’d put the idea in my head and sure enough, she had a combination of stone fruit and blue cheese waiting to fulfill my wayward vacation craving. Read more »
For the last four weeks my son, the child who actually likes and encourages my cooking, has been at sleepaway camp, leaving us home alone with the one I affectionately call Buttered Noodles for Frances. Have you read the book? [Amazon, Bookshop, more indies] In it, a very picky badger named Frances doesn’t want to eat any of the food her mother makes, she only wants bread and jam. Her parents decide to give her exactly what she wants while the rest of the family eats poached eggs, green beans, and breaded veal cutlets. It does the trick — she tires of it and begins to embrace what the rest of the family is eating. Well la-de-da, good for them. Our badger is cut from more stubborn cloth. After the first week of trying to serve regular meals — food with variety and interest, the kind of stuff you might find on any page of the site but this one — I gave up and made buttered noodles every night. I want you to know that on what might be the sixth or sixteenth day, I’ve stopped counting, she has yet to request anything else.
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Were you new to cooking or eating and came to Smitten Kitchen for a reasonable understanding of what a cobbler is and is not, well, you would find neither reason nor understanding — about cobblers or, let’s be realistic, many other things. There were, before today, four cobbler recipes in the archives and all of them represent different interpretations of what Wikipedia calls “a dessert consisting of a fruit filling poured into a large baking dish and covered with a batter, biscuit, or dumpling before being baked.” Is this a good time to mention that Smitten Kitchen Keepers, which will be out in a mere but-who’s-counting 129 days, has two additional cobbler recipes in it, one I make for breakfast and a savory one for an incredible summer dinner? Read more »
Is July the most lethargic cooking month? I don’t mean this in a bad way. I know in our productivity-fixated culture (“so busy, crazy busy”) we balk at praising apathy but what if we leaned into it instead? It’s hot. The days are long. If midsummer demands some laziness, some loosened grip on to-do lists, if de-participation beckons and we can pull it off, I’d like to try it. I could even schedule it one day next week if I move some things around. Read more »
Letter of recommendation: Make ricotta this summer. I was originally going to write “Ditch the burrata and make some ricotta this summer,” but neither wish to besmirch burrata nor do I plan to go tomato season without it. Should a burrata tree (it grows on trees, or must based on the frequency in which it appears) spontaneously appear on my terrace, I will be the happiest and most popular girl in all of the Lower East Side this summer. But since like most of us, I’m still buying it at stores where it’s quite expensive, spoils quickly, and is only sometimes spectacular, I’m here to make the argument that homemade ricotta is not only rich, delicious, and a cinch to make, but that in almost all of the places we’re serving burrata, ricotta* would be deliciously welcome too. Read more »
I first read about brita, pardon me, Brita-Kakku, cakes — described as a typical Finnish summer cake with a based of a butter cake with a meringue baked onto it, whipped cream, and fresh berries — a few years ago and was instantly mesmerized by not just by the delicious promise of these ingredients but because, forgive me, the mess of it. In image search after image search, I drooled over charmingly lopsided cakes with raw edges, whipped cream with no regard for boundaries, meringues that wobbled and crumbled as they pleased, berries tumbling free, and I wanted it. I realize that there are more practical ways to approach it, such as a single-layer cake, but I didn’t want practical, I wanted berry cake chaos. Read more »
I am very excited* to announce the opening day of what we call slaw season at the Smitten Kitchen. There is nothing better than a crunchy, lettuce-free, wilt-resistant salad in the summer, and I don’t just mean cabbage swimming in mayo. It could be broccoli or cauliflower, vegetables fine and pickled on sandwiches and tacos, and honestly, if it’s a vegetable, I feel confident I could slaw it, despite absolutely nobody requesting that I do. Read more »
Something I joke about when introducing a new muffin recipe (not this one!) in my new cookbook out this fall is the gap between the muffins we gaze at in a coffee shop case and those we make at home. Why is one towering, glossy and plush and the ones I make for breakfast so… beige? I mean, I do know. When I’m the one baking the muffins, I balk at all of the refined sugar, flour, and oil needed to make them that pretty. So I stuff them with oats and dried fruit and whole-grain everything and then yes, they’re heavy and beige. But as I was staring at these beauties at my local bagel shop the other morning, I decided: enough. Read more »
In early March 2020, I signed a contract to write my third cookbook because it felt like just the right moment: calm, unfrenzied, kids happy settled in school and activities… stop laughing. My timing is impeccable. But, there’s nothing like a tremendous amount of time at home with an almost boundless need for homecooked meals to get me asking the big, important questions about my own repertoire: Where is my forever pound cake? What would the perfect quiche look like? Why does roasting chicken this way change everything? I realized how much I wanted this book to be a collection of recipes specifically written with making them forever in mind. Two years later, I finally get to show you what I’ve been up to.
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