Summer special.

Every year I decide I’m going to incorporate more vegetables into my diet. Every year I fail. It’s no wonder that my cholesterol has reached levels that a tire-waisted, booze chugging, take-out-food-every-night, 50+ male would be shocked by.  There was a time when, in addition to and in between constant tastings at America’s Test Kitchen, I would eat on average 2 dozen large eggs and 1 pound of bacon (a modest estimate) per week. Let’s not talk about how much butter I was consuming.

Chronic heartburn and a constant feeling of being smothered by a large pillow did nothing to stop me. I kept eating. I ate more than my husband. I over-ordered at restaurants. I made male dinner companions look like sissies.

I still indulge in many of these fine, ladylike activities, however, I’ve cut back on the bacon, the Texas-sized portions of fatty steak, and the bi-weekly 2:00am slices of Philly cheesesteak-topped pizza, namely because I’ve noticed my youthful metabolism is no longer as vigorous.

I have, at long last, started cooking more vegetables. And I actually like it. Honest to goodness, there are nights when I have no animal protein and I’m not grinding my teeth afterwards, craving a hunk of meat. This is not to say that I’ve stopped being a carnivore—let’s not be hypocrites here—but it is nice to round out my weekly meals.

This salad, many of you will probably point out, doesn’t really count as salad because it’s full of corn and potatoes – both starchy. But c’mon, cut me some slack. I’ve still got my veggie training wheels on.

This is a charred corn and potato salad that is perfectly suited for summer. It changes up the usual over-mayonnaised potato salad and also takes the mess out of eating corn on the cob. The kernels are scraped off the cob and toasted in a skillet until dark and spotty black—no need for a grill here. While the smell of movie theatre popcorn drifts up from the pan, diced waxy potatoes get a jump-start on cooking in a plastic-wrapped bowl in the microwave. A quick sautée with garlic slices and these get a bold boost.

Flavored simply but boldly with freshly-squeezed lime juice, cilantro, and hot sauce (I’m on a Cholula kick at the moment), this turns out to be a healthier version of deli counter potato salad: only 1 tablespoon of the stuff is needed to add velvety richness to this dish.  Fresh tomatoes bring an extra hint of summer to this salad that can be served with a green side salad for a completely vegetarian dinner or, what the hell, pair it with a good steak. Extra rare.

TOASTED CORN AND POTATO SALAD

Equipment: large microwave-safe bowl, plastic wrap, microwave, large skillet
Active time: 30 minutes
Total time: 3 hours
Serves 4 to 6 as a side dish

1 pound waxy potatoes, peeled and cut into ¼-inch dice
4 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
3 tablespoons olive oil
4 ears corn, shucked, kernels scraped off
1 tablespoon hot sauce hot sauce
1 tablespoon mayonnaise
4 tomatoes, cored, seeded, and coarsely chopped
3/4 cup cilantro leaves, coarsely chopped
2 tablespoons freshly-squeezed lime juice
Salt and pepper

- Place potatoes and garlic in microwave-safe bowl. Toss with 2 tablespoons olive oil. Cover with plastic wrap and microwave until tender, tossing halfway through without removing the plastic, 4 to 5 minutes.

- Meanwhile, heat additional 1 tablespoon oil in large skillet over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add corn kernels and cook, stirring occasionally, until dark golden brown, 7 to 10 minutes. Transfer corn to large bowl.

- Add potatoes and garlic to now empty skillet and cook until golden, stirring occasionally, about 5 minutes. Transfer to bowl with potatoes.

- Stir hot sauce and mayonnaise into potato-corn mixture. Stir in tomatoes and lime juice, and season to taste with salt and pepper. Serve at room temperature.

- Salad can be made 1 day in advance; refrigerate in airtight container and bring to room temperature prior to serving. Re-season if necessary.

It’s been pointed out to me that I am headstrong, loud, and have a temper that can bubble up as quickly as an Alka-Seltzer tablet plopped in water. It’s also been pointed out that these endearing characteristics are probably innate and completely out of my control because I’m Latin American. I’m not offended. If one day I throw a plate at someone’s head I can blame it on my ethnicity.

I couldn’t help think of the stereotypical fiery Latin temperament when I was making this recipe. Arroz con leche (riz au lait or rice pudding), is such a languid, drowsy, gentle thing, so tender it’s even suitable for those with smooth gums and weak constitutions. And yet, it is among the most well-loved and frequently made desserts in much of Latin America. Maybe we’re all bark and no bite.

The accompanying rice pudding recipe requires some care and attention—it needs to be occasionally stirred over low heat for about an hour. I find watching the pudding steadily thicken is quite soothing, and the reward of a warm bowl of arroz con leche is worth every turn of the spoon.

This arroz con leche is flavored with orange rind, cinnamon, and (optional) dark rum; the scent is deep and sultry. You’ll notice I’ve used dark brown sugar as well as granulated sugar in the recipe: the pudding’s color will be golden rather than white, and the flavor more complex. At home I’d use dulce de rapadura or piloncillo (unrefined whole cane sugar), and do feel free to use either if they’re available to you.

A side note: arroz con leche is part of a children’s song; these are a few lines from one version.

“Arroz con leche me quiro casar / con una señorita de San Nicolás / que sepa coser / que sepa bordar / que sepa abrir la puerta para ir a jugar…. / Con esta sí, con esta no / con esta señorita me caso yo.”

(Rice pudding, I want to marry a young lady from San Nicolás who’ll know how to sew, who’ll know how to embroider, and who’ll know how to open the door to go out and play…With this one: yes, with this one: no, this is the young lady I will marry.)

ARROZ CON LECHE (Nicaraguan Rice Pudding)

Active time: 1 hour
Total time: 1 hour

Notes: Rice pudding is best served warm as soon as it is made.

3 ½ cups water
1 cup medium- or long-grain white rice
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 3-inch pieces orange rind from 1 orange
2 cinnamon sticks
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 ½ cups milk
1 cup sugar
¼ cup packed dark brown sugar
½ cup raisins
¼ cup dark rum (optional)
Ground cinnamon (optional)

Bring water to boil over medium-high heat in medium heavy-bottomed saucepan. Stir in rice, 1 tablespoon butter, orange rind pieces, cinnamon sticks, and salt. Reduce heat to medium and simmer, stirring from time to time, until most of the liquid is absorbed, 10 to 12 minutes.

Stir in milk, sugar, dark brown sugar, raisins, and optional rum. Increase heat to medium-high and bring mixture to boil. Immediately reduce heat o medium-low and simmer, stirring from time to time, until rice is thickened and tender, about 35 to 45 minutes.

Remove from heat. Remove and discard orange rind pieces and cinnamon sticks. Stir in remaining 1 tablespoon butter. Serve warm and dust with cinnamon if desired.

A bit of shameless self-promotion to begin the new year. Clearly my resolution to be more humble has gone out the window along with my promise to wake up at 5:30am and head for the gym (in my defense, I suffered an odd neck spasm that even 12 Advil a day hasn’t completely alleviated).

The proud moment, this lunch lady bit on one of my favorite blogs, Oh Joy!

Click here for the gory details on what this lady lunches on: http://ohjoy.blogs.com/my_weblog/

I’ve unfortunately never gotten around to writing down the recipe for roasted butternut squash and apples seen in the photo, but I think it goes roughly like this:

FALL HARVEST SANDWICH WITH ROASTED BUTTERNUT SQUASH, APPLES, AND STILTON

Equipment: large rimmed baking sheet, foil, serrated knife, vegetable peeler, metal spoon, cooling rack

1 medium butternut squash
2 to 3 firm-fleshed apples, such as Granny Smith or Gala
Olive oil
3 tablespoons packed light brown sugar
2 teaspoons finely grated zest and 1 tablespoon juice from 2 lemons
Salt
Aleppo pepper or red pepper flakes
1 ounces stilton
Crusty bread of your choice
Arugula (optional)

- Adjust oven rack to middle position and preheat oven to 425°F. Line large rimmed baking sheet with foil.

- With a serrated knife, trim off about 1 inch from top and bottom of squash. Stand the squash up, and peel with a vegetable peeler. Be sure you’ve removed enough to see the bright orange flesh of the squash.

- Cut the squash where it curves, then cut that rounded piece in half. With a metal spoon, scoop out the seeds and discard.

- Slice squash into ¼-inch slices and arrange in single layer on prepared baking sheet.

- Peel, core (a metal 1-teaspoon measure works wonderfully), and cut apples into 8 wedges; add to baking sheet.

- Drizzle squash and apples generously with olive oil, then sprinkle with brown sugar and lemon zest. Season generously with salt and Aleppo pepper to taste. Toss everything together, rubbing with fingers to ensure even seasoning and coating. Arrange in single layer.

- Roast until vegetables are tender and slightly charred, 35 to 45 minutes.

- Transfer baking sheet to cooling rack and cool to room temperature. Adjust seasoning and add lemon juice.

- To assemble sandwich, slice crusty bread, drizzle crumb with olive oil, and toast if desired. Pile bread with squash and apples, crumble Stilton over everything, and tuck in arugula. Enjoy!

On average, two to four baked goods are produced in my kitchen on a weekly basis. During the Christmas season, that number rises exponentially. Today for instance, had you dropped by for a visit, I could have offered you fruitcake, homemade s’mores with a marshmallow cap torched á la minute, chocolate cake roll with salted caramel buttercream filling, chocolate meringue batons, and pink peppermint meringue kisses to go along with your coffee or tea.

I’ve even ventured into cookie baking territory as evidenced by this weeks “Dreamy Crack Bars” post. Here is the other type of cookie I like to bake during this holly jolly time of year: nubby, crumbly, buttery, sugar-dusted Mexican wedding cakes, festooned and prettied up with Grinch-green pistachios, sunny orange zest, and exotic, floral cardamom.

I took them to the annual Serious Eats cookie swap just last week and will be making a few more batches for people on my “Nice” list.

ORANGE, CARDAMOM, &  PISTACHIO MEXICAN WEDDING CAKES

Equipment: food processor, electric mixer, 2 baking sheets, parchment paper, cooling rack, mixing bowls

Makes about 32 cookies

1 cup roasted, salted, shelled pistachios
1 tablespoons finely grated orange zest
8 ounces (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
2 cups confectioners’ sugar
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
¾ plus 1/8 teaspoon ground cardamom
¼ teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Pulse pistachios and orange zest in food processor until almonds are coarsely ground. Set aside.

In large bowl, beat butter on medium-high speed until light and fluffy, about 1 minute. Pause mixer and add ½ cup confectioners’ sugar. Beat on low speed until fully incorporated, about 30 seconds. Scrape sides and bottom of bowl with rubber spatula; add vanilla. Mix on medium-high speed until incorporated, about 10 seconds.

Pause mixer. Add flour, ¾ teaspoon cardamom, salt, and nut mixture; mix on medium-low speed until dough comes together, 60 to 90 seconds.

With rubber spatula, scrape sides and bottom of bowl, patting dough down to unify it. Cover bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 350°F. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper.

Using a 1 tablespoon measure, scoop dough out onto prepared baking sheets, then quickly roll them between palms into balls and space them ½ inch apart. Lightly press cookies down to ½-inch thickness.

Bake cookies until golden brown on bottom (they will remain pale on top) 15 to 20 minutes.

While cookies bake, whisk together remaining 1 ½ cups confectioners’ sugar, remaining 1/8 teaspoon cardamom, and cinnamon in large bowl; set aside.

Transfer baking sheet to cooling rack and cool cookies on sheet for 5 minutes. Gently toss warm cookies in confectioners’ sugar and transfer to cooling rack to cool completely, 30 to 60 minutes.

Cookies will keep in an airtight container for up to 1 week.

Admittedly, I am not a very enthusiastic cookie baker. I don’t mind pulling cookies out of the oven halfway through baking to carefully apply chocolate chips with tweezers so they look picture perfect, but that’s strictly for work. For fun, I’d much rather do away with the scooping, rolling, cutting,  decorating, and tweezing.

Enter these bar cookies. They’re actually the first recipe I ever developed at Cook’s Country Magazine, and probably one of my favorite. The base is a nut-speckled, buttery shortbread; the center a gooey pecan-pie-like blanket; and the top, a crisp, caramelized, crunchy crust of coconut.

They were originally titled “Dream Bars,” however after six batches and incessant eating, their highly addictive nature demands to be put in the category of illegal drugs, hence the “crack” in the title.

I’m off to bake another batch now. Wrap them up in cellophane and festive ribbons and ship off to friends and family!

DREAMY CRACK BARS
(Originally published in Cook’s Country, Apr/May 2009)

Equipment: 13- by 9-inch baking pan, heavy-duty foil, food processor, cooling rack, mixing bowls, whisk

Notes:
To toast the nuts, arrange pecans in single layer on baking sheet. Bake in center rack in preheated 350°F oven until fragrant and golden, 7 to 10 minutes, shaking pan halfway through baking to redistribute pecans. Transfer baking sheet to cooling rack and cool pecans completely before chopping.

For the Crust
Cooking spray
2 cups all-purpose or whole wheat flour
¾ cup packed dark brown sugar
½ cup pecans
¼ teaspoon salt
10 tablespoons (1 ¼ sticks) unsalted butter, cut into ½-inch pieces and chilled

For the Topping
1 ½ cups sweetened shredded coconut
1 (15-ounce) can cream of coconut
2 large eggs, at room temperature
¾ cup packed dark brown sugar
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup pecans, toasted and coarsely chopped (See Notes)

For the crust: Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 350°F. Line 13- by 9-inch baking pan with heavy-duty foil lengthwise with one sheet, then crosswise with a second sheet to create a sling; coat with baking spray.

Process flour, brown sugar, pecans, and salt in food processor until pecans are coarsely ground. Add butter and pulse until mixture resembles coarse meal. Press mixture firmly into prepared baking pan. Bake until golden brown, about 20 minutes. Cool on wire rack 20 minutes.

For the topping: Stir together shredded coconut and cream of coconut in bowl. In separate bowl, whisk eggs, brown sugar, flour, baking powder, vanilla, and salt until smooth. Stir in pecans, then spread filling over cooled crust. Dollop heaping teaspoons of coconut mixture over filling, then spread into as even a layer as possible with rubber spatula or back of spoon (it will be patchy).

Bake until topping is deep golden brown, 35 to 40 minutes. Cool in pan 20 minutes, then, use excess foil to pull out onto wire rack. Cool completely, about 2 hours.

Once cooled, remove foil and cut into 24 pieces. (Bars can be refrigerated in airtight container for 5 days.)

My paternal grandparents have lived in their large Spanish colonial house in Granada’s Calle Atravesada (a Main Street of sorts) for as long as I can remember, and even decades before then.

Now sagging and crumbling with the customary wear and tear of the years and the ravages of difficult times—wars, death, weather—the atrium garden, framed by pillars and punctuated by a gurgling stone fountain, remains very much the same. Large, fat roses, always a bit too colorful with petals unfastened, like the heaving bosoms of ladies of the evening, flock together. Over-eager and too-intensely perfumed they boldly face the assault of the arrogant sun.

The heat in this town is oppressive and thick. Long hours were spent on Sunday visits to the house swinging back and forth on creaky white wicker rocking chairs, the sweat suctioning the backs of our legs to the seat as the speckled hen patterned black-and-white floor fumed ever hotter.

These Sundays inched forward painfully, but lunch at the big round table was a just reward. There were large platters of rib roast, the meat slipping off the bone, crab bisque with whole saucer-sized crabs you got to pick apart on your plate, potato gnocchi drowned in the house’s secret pink sauce and buried in crumbly cheese that had been bought by the slab at the market that morning, refried beans that shimmered in lard and were brought to the table in a well-seasoned cast-iron skillet that had long ago had its handle amputated.

And the preserved fruits. Depending on what was in season there was always a homemade, industrial-sized jar filled with amber fruits floating in slow motion in a thick, golden syrup. Mangos, papayas, a slew of tropical fruits I never learned the English names for, and my favorite: figs.

Years ago there was a fig tree in a corner of the garden. The figs hung low and plump, hiding in the shade of its own parasol leaves. The tree was unceremoniously cut down after the occasional evening bat became legion. Mamamá was always business-like with household pests. On a summer visit I brought a kitten home from the farm only to later learn he’d been dispatched to the market in a burlap sack. Mamamá told me Pascual had gone to Miami, and for a long time I envisioned him living in glorious exile.

Tree or no tree, higos en miel were made whenever they were in season. The “figs in honey” were sticky and sweet, their tiny seeds tickling my mouth; I’ve always thought that sunshine would taste just like one of those translucent orbs. The figs, those delicate purses lined with precious beads, were gently peeled and drowned in simple syrup and a fresh leaf from the tree, then simmered under Mamamá’s strict and perspiring brow.

Last week while I leaned over the pot to check on my figs, my eyes and nose smarted as if I’d taken a gulp of chilled heavily carbonated Coca-Cola; my grandmother’s kitchen, the roses, the bats, the disappeared cat, the damp manure and chicken droppings caked to the soles of my shoes; all rushed back.

HIGOS EN MIEL (Poached Figs)

Active Time: 1 hour, 30 minutes
Total Time: 2 hours, 30 minutes
Equipment: vegetable peeler, large heavy-bottomed saucepan or Dutch oven, parchment paper
Note: Figs will keep in an airtight container, refrigerated, for 1 week.

30 small fresh, ripe black figs (about 2 pounds)
2 cups sugar
1 cup packed dark brown sugar
¼ teaspoon salt
4 cups water

Carefully peel figs and trim and discard stems.

Stir together sugar, dark brown sugar, salt, and water in large heavy-bottomed saucepan or Dutch oven over medium-high heat and boil syrup until sugars are dissolved and syrup thickens, 5 to 7 minutes. Reduce heat to medium-low and add figs.

Cut a piece of parchment paper in the shape of pot. Cut a nickel-sized vent in the middle. Press parchment directly onto surface of fig-syrup mixture.

Simmer figs until translucent, gently stirring from time to time, about 1 hour.

Cool figs completely, at least 1 hour. Figs may be served at room temperature or chilled.

Writing for Serious Eats / Sweets means I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about dessert. Half moon pose in yoga, the instructor running through the dialogue—”Pushandcomedown, pushandcomedown”—, sweat gushing out of every pore—everything goes unnoticed. Stuck in line behind someone who insists on spelunking in their Mary Poppins-sized handbag for a measly $0.10 coupon—I’m not annoyed. Small child screaming bloody murder in the seat behind me on crowded flight—I tune it out. My mind is putting together a list of possible cake and icing combinations, nut and spice mixtures, color schemes suitable for propping the finished cake.

Dinner has taken a secondary role, so much so that last week when my husband was out of town I had a whole bag of microwave popcorn for dinner (only after I’d eaten a large slice of that day’s cake, right off the cake stand).

When I do get around to making dinner, I rummage around the kitchen seeing what’s around and crossing my fingers that the vegetables I bought last weekend haven’t morphed into alien forms (I found a length of kielbasa in the crisper drawer once and upon closer inspection realized it was actually a long-forgotten and mutated carrot). One of the dishes that most easily comes together and simultaneously rescues onions, bruised apples, and the last handful of potatoes is roast chicken.

I’ve written about roast chicken before, and expect to see more variations because it is one of my very favorite things to make. Nothing to me says “I cooked a lovely dinner!” to me more than roast chicken. It’s fuss, uses just one pan, and doesn’t make a big stink in my apartment.

Try this version with crisp garlicky skin, caramelized lemon pieces, chunks of tart apple, toasty roasted potatoes, and sweet onions. Oh, and sausage, too.

EASY ROASTED GARLIC CHICKEN WITH SAUSAGE, APPLES, & ONIONS
Serves 4

Equipment: cutting board, chef’s knife, roasting pan, grater, paper towels, tongs, instant-read thermometer
Active time: 20 minutes
Total time: 1 hour, 45 minutes

Notes: You can substitute the whole chicken with bone-in, skin-on chicken pieces (all breasts, all thighs, etc. or a combination of white and dark pieces).
- Easily core the apple pear by cutting it in half, then scooping out the core and seeds with a 1-teaspoon measuring spoon (metal works best).
When seasoning chicken, I like to estimate ¾ teaspoon per pound of chicken.

1 medium-sized yellow onion, cut into ½-inch pieces
1 Granny Smith apple or 1 firm seckel pear, peeled, cored, and cut into 1-inch pieces (See Notes)
8 garlic cloves, peeled
3 fresh Italian sausages, cut into 1-inch thick rounds
1 whole chicken (4 to 5 pounds), cut into pieces (See Notes)
2 teaspoon dried thyme or 1 tablespoon minced fresh thyme leaves
1 teaspoon dried sage
½ teaspoon red pepper flakes (or more to taste)
Salt and pepper (See Notes)
Olive oil
Finely grated zest and juice of 1 lemon
1 pound fingerling potatoes, scrubbed and cut in half lengthwise

- Adjust oven rack to middle position and preheat oven to 375°F.

- Combine onion and apple in roasting pan. Smash 4 garlic cloves with the side of a chef’s knife and add to pan. Add sausages, thyme, sage, red pepper flakes; season with salt and pepper. Drizzle with 3 tablespoons olive oil and toss everything together with hands.

- Finely chop remaining 4 garlic cloves. Combine with lemon zest in small bowl and add enough olive oil to cover (about ¼ cup). Microwave uncovered for until oil is bubbling and garlic is fragrant, 30 to 60 seconds.

- Cut lemon into quarters and toss with vegetables.

- Pat chicken pieces dry with paper towels. Season with salt and pepper.
Rub garlic mixture all over chicken.

- Arrange chicken pieces, skin side down, over vegetable-sausage mixture. Bake for 35 minutes.

- With tongs, turn chicken pieces skin-side up and increase oven temperature to 450°F. Continue to bake until skin is crisp and golden and temperature registers 160°F, about 30 minutes.

- Transfer roasting pan to cooling rack and allow kitchen to rest 10 to 15 minutes prior to serving.

In its original tongue, French toast is pain perdu, “lost bread.” It should be “found bread” or “saved bread” I think, as what would have been tossed out, discarded, inedible, lost bread, too stale and unpalatable to serve even with a large knob of fresh butter, is saved with the addition of staple kitchen ingredients.

French toast is made by dipping stale slices of bread in a batter of eggs and milk, sometimes enhanced with ground cinnamon, vanilla extract, sugar, etc. More exaggerated versions add cereal and nut coatings, cream cheese and fruit fillings, and anything else within arm’s reach that may appeal to a mouthful of sweet teeth.

Note that the whole point of French toast is to use stale bread, but, thanks to the modern-day use of preservatives, supermarket sliced bread can endure an inordinately long period of time. Though it might be a bit more difficult to have bread that’s wasting away in your pantry, do stay away from the fluffy stuff; it is much too soft and overly absorbent, which will produce a wet, soggy, slippery, slimy breakfast.

Even with bread on the brink of becoming lost, I’ve been served many plates of swampy French toast. If you enjoy chewing on waterlogged sponges, don’t make the following recipe. This is a non-recipe of sorts, but basic and self-explanatory, so you should have no trouble. My special trick — aside from dry bread slices from a sturdy loaf — is to generously slather the slices with cinnamon-sugar butter on both sides prior to giving them a brief dip in egg batter. French toast with a thin, fried coating that’s also caramelized and cinnamon-scented. What once was lost, is now found.

CRUNCHY FRENCH TOAST
Serves 2

Equipment: cutting board, serrated knife, large mixing bowl, whisk, 12-inch nonstick skillet or griddle, spatula
Active time: 15 minutes
Total time: 30 minutes

Notes: Use only sturdy, stale bread, such as Pullman loaf, boule, ciabatta, or baguette. Avoid sliced supermarket breads.
Recipe can be easily multiplied.

8 to 10 pieces stale ciabatta bread, sliced into ¾ inch slices (See Notes)
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
2 to 3 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon (or more to taste)
1/8 teaspoon salt
2 large eggs, at room temperature
¼ cup milk
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 teaspoon finely grated orange zest (optional)
Syrup or honey for serving (optional)

- Combine 4 tablespoons butter, sugar, cinnamon, and salt in small bowl. Spread each slice of bread on both sides with cinnamon-sugar butter.

- In large bowl, whisk together eggs, milk, vanilla, and optional zest.

- Melt about ½ of the remaining tablespoon butter in large nonstick skillet or griddle over medium heat. Briefly dip as many slices of bread as will fit comfortably on the skillet (do not overcrowd).

- Cook toast until browned and caramelized, 2 to 4 minutes per side.

- Serve immediately, with syrup if desired.

I moved back to New York a little over a week ago and in that short time have experienced the whip of Mother Nature’s wrath: first, an earthquake, and now a hurricane. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Godzilla and King Kong made cameos next.

Slowly but surely, I’ve been unpacking boxes and, like a bird, have been tucking things away into every nook and cranny I can find in the new apartment. Closet space is, as usual, something that needs to be carefully studied and adroitly negotiated.

The kitchen was the first room I focused on. Eight boxes into the process, most of the cabinets were stocked and I was certain I was done. Unfortunately, ten more lurked among the Kraft-brown pillars in the living room. Things are tidy for the most part, but despite a thorough cleaning on the move-out, I am still finding questionable items. Why does anyone need multiple jars of candy cane sprinkles and cerulean sugar?

Thus far this week I’ve made Nicaraguan carne chorizada for a real taste of home, roast chicken to get back into the routine (I make roast chicken at least once a week), and a red pepper frittata with the smoky garlic potatoes that follow.

This simple recipe is packed with flavor and takes minimal effort. The potatoes are par-cooked in the microwave—no need to boil water, drain, etc.—then sautéed until crisp and golden, like edible copper coins.

Smoked paprika is one of my favorite spices—it’s deep and rich and reminiscent of well-prepared barbecue. If you can’t find it at your supermarket, do look for it at a specialty shop or online; it’s worth the trouble and you’ll find yourself adding it to numerous preparations (and of course, in recipes on this blog). Lots of garlic add punch and heat, and the bits brown nicely into crisp nuggets.

My secret ingredients: mayonnaise and a squeeze of lemon right before serving. A little extra indulgence and zing for what will be a new favorite side dish.

SMOKY GARLIC POTATOES
Serves 4

Equipment: large microwave-safe bowl, plastic wrap, microwave, large standard or nonstick skillet, rubber spatula
Active time: 20 minutes
Total time: 20 minutes

Notes: If you can’t find fingerlings, substitute with 1 pound small red bliss or new potatoes. Cut potatoes in quarters lengthwise, then slice thinly crosswise.

1 pound fingerling potatoes, scrubbed well (See Notes)
2 garlic cloves, minced
3 tablespoons olive oil
Salt and pepper
2 teaspoons smoked paprika
½ teaspoon dried oregano
½ teaspoon red pepper flakes
2 teaspoons mayonnaise
2 teaspoons lemon juice

- Slice potatoes crosswise into thin rounds and place in large microwave-safe bowl. Add garlic and 2 tablespoons olive oil and toss to coat. Season with salt and pepper and toss once again.

- Cover bowl tightly with plastic wrap and microwave 2 minutes. Without removing the plastic wrap, toss the potatoes, then microwave 1 additional minute.

- Heat remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil in large skillet over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add smoked paprika,oregano, and red pepper flakes and cook, stirring, until fragrant, about 20 seconds. With a rubber spatula, scrape potatoes and any oil and garlic bits into skillet and cook, tossing or stirring occasionally, until potatoes are crisp and dark golden, 5 to 10 minutes.

- Remove skillet from heat, then add mayonnaise and lemon juice. Serve immediately.

This gutsy sauce is perfect for grilled steak, but it’s incredibly versatile. Make a double batch and store it in a covered container in your fridge and use it to marinate shrimp, toss it with rice pilaf or warm potatoes, or use it as an alternative for vinaigrette on a crisp green salad.

CHIMICHURRI

1 cup packed flat-leaf (Italian) parsley, finely chopped
½ cup packed cilantro leaves, finely chopped
1/3 cup packed fresh oregano leaves, finely chopped
¾ teaspoon red pepper flakes
¾ cup extra-virgin olive oil
¼ cup red wine vinegar
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 garlic cloves, minced

- Combine all ingredients in medium bowl. Cover bowl with plastic wrap and let stand at room temperature about 1 hour to allow flavors to meld. Serve.