Figgy Flatbread

Last night, I had after-dinner plans with dear friend, M, to drink champagne and look at each other's wedding albums. As I had not laid eyes on mine in years and have only seen one of M's wedding pics, I knew it'd be a lovely way to spend a Monday evening. But first, migraine elimination and dinner. I pretty much gave up on the former but was determined to make a lovely meal regardless. During my writing class on Sunday, Lili told us about her son's new job as a line cook at one of John Besh's new spots in NOLA and in doing so dropped word of some ridiculously amazing pizza that included mascarpone, fresh figs and prosciutto. As I had just bought some figs and could not stop thinking about this pizza, I took a break from Jack's room yesterday afternoon to make a batch of Peter Reinhart's Neapolitan pizza dough.

After letting it rise for several hours, I pulled off about a sixth of the dough, shaped it into a thin crust and spread it with a film of mascarpone, some caramelized shallots I'd just made, sliced figs, salt, bacon (I just can't find the love for prosciutto; I do love speck but couldn't find it yesterday.) and a bit of fresh mozzarella. Once the pizza stone and grill were adequately heated, I popped this baby on until just done, spread some fresh arugula on top and dove in.

Today, my migraine is largely gone, Jack's room is finally clean, last night was so lovely and fun and I have two small wedges of figgy flatbread left!

Cookies from generations past, rustic dinner to clean out the fridge

Earlier this year, I made a batch of my Aunt Da's tea cakes. Aunt Da was one of Nanny's much-older sisters (Nanny was a surprise baby by 16 years or something), and I always remember that she made tea cakes, stored them in a metallic purple (or was it blue? silver?) aluminum tin and they always seemed to be in stock. I took some liberties in my reimagination of them: I added Irish Breakfast tea to literalize the Tea Cake moniker; used whole wheat pastry and cake flours rather than all-purpose; and subbed marzipan for the vanilla. They're wonderful!

I haven't made them since then but this week received from my mom some of Nanny's old cookie cutters. I think Aunt Da used them too. It seemed fitting to christen them in my kitchen by making some tea cakes, so this afternoon while Jack was a birthday party, Oliver and I did just that. The reindeer, gingerman and woman, and card suits are my beloved new additions from Nanny's kitchen. You know, it was a real bummer not to address a Christmas card to her this year. I can't bear to erase her name from my card list. Boo!

Tom and I appear to have inhaled vast quantities of sleep dust because we are already in bed and have wanted to be for hours. HOURS! However, before we donned jammies, I made a clean-out-the-fridge-and-pantry meal and really was quite pleased. I roasted some cubed rutabagas and chopped carrots; caramelized an onion and a leek with some garlic, a daub of mustard and a splash of white wine; threw it all together with some tomatoes and white beans; broiled some multi-grain bread with shaved Gruyère on top; fried some bacon; and basically put it all together as prettily as possible. Very satisfying!

Redeeming dinner to be sure

Ooh, Nelly, this turned out well. I am telling y'all, I needed a win tonight, no matter how insignificant. We got two of Percy's dew claws cut -swear to god their length was setting records- and I pulled out my cast iron wonder skillet again to make some spinach-sultana-pistachio-stuffed chicken breasts. That skillet sears so nicely; you get such a terrific browning, and I love that each time it's used, it gets seasoned all the more. Fantastic product! So reasonably priced too!

Alongside our chicken, I made a turnip dish inspired by my mom's (and her mom's) Momo Potatoes, a most delicious blend of potatoes, onions, cheddar and bacon, all of which is cooked and comes together in a skillet. One pot, great outcome. Love it. Anyway, my version subbed Hakurei turnips for the potatoes, omitted the onions, replaced the cheddar with aged Gouda and definitely kept the bacon. This was an excellent riff and one I'd definitely make again. The aged Gouda just loves bacon and the turnips provide a delightful juxtaposition of sweet. Mmm! Alongside a trusty glass of Grgich Hills Fumé Blanc, well, I'm feeling on the up!