I was completely enchanted by these Concord grapes a few weeks ago when I visited the greenmarket by Lincoln Square. They were deep, midnight violet hiding under a gossamer bloom and intensely perfumed. The strong scent of sheer purple was discernible from a distance and provoked flashes of childhood’s gloppy grape jelly, drippy grape popsicles, and intoxicating grape juice.

The grapes’ velvety jackets are easily slipped off to reveal chubby, translucent green flesh with rather large, crunchy seeds. I usually chew right through these, but while testing this week’s Concord Grape Cake for Serious Sweets I found that they created too much of a distraction. In that recipe, they are removed, leaving you nothing but tender cake mottled with small explosions of grape and a thick topcoat of made-from-scratch jam.

A little sad, this fallen bird, but its bold yellow feathers, black-speckled breast, and rose-red cap were too beautiful to just pass by.

I was working on a chocolate-coated cookie recipe recently, and, neat as I try to be, chocolate is not something I’m very good at keeping under control. I’d like to think it’s like refusing to color within the lines: It’s creative! It’s liberating! It’s fun!

This is what the aftermath of all this creative, liberating, and fun chocolate activity left behind. Rather pretty, no?

I strolled around the very crowded Union Square Greenmarket last Saturday afternoon. Despite being jostled around and occasionally glared at for stopping to shoot this basket of red apples and that basket of brown pears, it is one of my favorite places to go in the fall in New York. It’s these jaunts that remind me how much I missed living here and how good it feels to melt into the bustle and grind and messiness of other people’s lives.

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’ve been home alone this entire week. When I walked away from my desk job I knew it meant turning my back on a regimented day-to-day schedule. No more alarm clock, no more bowl of cereal at the kitchen sink, no more cursing the train for being too crowded with fellow nine-to-fivers.

My first year of cubicle freedom was shared with my husband who happened to be working at home, too. Annoying at times, this roommate/officemate… I had to pay attention to when he was on a call because it meant I couldn’t press the pulse button on the food processor like I had an index finger muscle spasm. But it was nice to have someone to share lunch with.

But now we’ve moved and he goes to the office and on days when I’m not shooting, I’m home. Alone.

Some people like to eat alone. I am not one of those people. I do eat—lots, too, and often straight out of the fridge— but it’s not as satisfying, even when I treat myself to lovely Swiss mustard, thick-cut slices of good butter crusted with Maldon salt, crusty bread, and horseradish pickles from the delightful Divine Brine folks.

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.

I love the seductive, deep, blood red tint of summer cherries. Pitting them transfixes me, the burgundy juice gushing out as if from a fresh wound. Perhaps I was a surgeon in a previous incarnation.
Or a vampire bat.

Make sure you see this week’s Serious Sweets cherry-laden, rum-laced tartouillat recipe.

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.