Don't go out for dinner on Valentine's Day. Unless you're on your own and just want to be defiant and sit at the bar somewhere twirling some delicious noodles on your fork and sucking down an excellent glass of red. Everybody in the world will be cinched into little black dresses, drinking overpriced bottles of Champagne, crowded into candlelit two-tops and contemplating fussy tasting menus. If you want to celebrate with your beloved, do it at home. That's where the true romance happens anyway, right? If you pour your heart into your cooking, you can really taste the love.

Read More...

It's the last day of July. Summer is peaking! And I'm about to bid you farewell as we drift into the dog days of August. It's been strangely cool in these parts and the nights have been downright chilly, which makes for some powerfully good sleeping under a fluffy duvet. But the garden needs a lot of heat right now to keep producing—those tomatoes especially!—so I'm hoping it's just a blip. Speaking of the garden, ours is featured on Gardenista today; come for a visit here. Even if you don't have a vegetable-producing garden of your own, summer produce is abundant at farms and farmers markets. I stopped in at the Union Square market last week and came away with a big bag of red okra (I love it sliced and pan-fried, sprinkled with salt and cayenne pepper), another of English peas and 6 ears of sweet corn. These tastes really define the season for me and I can't seem to get enough of them!
Read More...

I have always had a passion for beets. Never a picky eater, I enjoyed these somewhat polarizing purple root vegetables from an early age. I can still remember the thrill of seeing my pee, subtly pink, circling the bowl. In college, I seemed to be the only one helping myself to Harvard beets, a sweet-tart staple of the dining hall salad bar. Although beets are now widely embraced as part of the unavoidable farm-to-table syndrome, they rarely make an appearance in our home as they are one of the few things for which my husband simply does not care. With their assertive color and distinctive earthy sweetness, they're not exactly the sort of thing you can just slip into a dish. Although I may roast a few on occasion for my own consumption, I am not in the habit of adding them to our morning juice or recreating the divine beet crumble from The Fat Radish. So you can imagine my delight when G urged me to go ahead and make that borscht I was daydreaming about. Not that I needed his permission, but it's kind of lonely to cook up a whole pot of soup and then have to eat it alone. Cooking for one is a very specific thing that lends itself more to simple pastas, elaborate salads and the occasional pot pie, don't you think?
Read More...

My passionate love of beets dates back to my early childhood. I can remember staring delightedly into the toilet as a lovely pink-tinged rinse circled the bowl. Their gorgeous color is a way of signaling how rich they are in minerals and antioxidants. (Beet juice, incidentally, makes a wonderful dye. Stay tuned for the transformation of my new white linen caftan!) The beets we know and eat are descended from the sea beet, Beta vulgaris subsp. maritima, which is native to the coasts of Europe, North Africa and southern Asia. Also known as wild spinach, it's the common ancestor of beetroot, sugar beet and Swiss chard.In my desire to help you squeeze the maximum out of your winter store of root vegetables, I can't forget to mention these wine-colored jewels. We don't eat them much in our house because G is not fond of them—something which is apparently rather common among men. I wonder why? He thinks they taste of dirt, which of course they do, but isn't that the whole point? I love them in all their guises—raw, steamed, roasted and pickled—and will often indulge when the cat's away.
Read More...

Anecdotal evidence would seem to indicate that they are scarce. Beets are one of the few foods that G will not eat. Perhaps the only food. And during a recent beet-themed recipe competition on Food52, it came out that many other women's husband are also beet-shunners. Most of them, in fact. You may have heard that even the President is in this camp. There are no beets in the White House garden. Sadly, there are rarely beets in my own kitchen—despite the fact that I LOVE THEM. As a child, I was known to eat beets until I peed pink. I can't resist their intensely earthy sweetness. G thinks they taste like dirt. This got me to thinking that maybe there was some sort of Y chromosome thing involved. (Although there are undoubtedly loads of Russian men slurping down their borscht.) Anyway, it's a mystery.Beets are rich in the highly desirable B vitamin folate, plus potassium, manganese and fiber. Purple, golden or candy-striped chioggia, their antioxidant properties are numerous. For a much more thorough nutritional analysis, see here. Beets pair wonderfully with sprightly greens, with goat cheese, walnuts and citrus zest. They are often eaten with horseradish, which cuts through their thick sweetness. I love eating beets just simply roasted and dressed with sherry vinegar and walnut oil. But this recipe for a beet rösti (an Editor's Pick on Food52) is a fun way to try to fool the man in your life into eating them. I used golden beets because they more closely resemble the potatoes used in the classic Swiss rosti, a pancake that's like a crusty slab of hash browns with a slightly creamier center.
Read More...