Monthly Archives: June 2012

Orzo with Chicken, Cherry Tomatoes and Gorgonzola

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It was yet another, “Oh, lord, I have to feed these people AGAIN?” kind of day, and this recipe came across my Facebook feed just in time to save dinner. Thank you, Fine Cooking, for the inspiration. Their original recipe, the foundation for my creation, can be found here.

If you’re not a fan of strong cheese such as Gorgonzola, move along…this recipe will not be for you. And don’t even THINK of substituting it with any other cheese! I highly recommend splurging on some sherry vinegar, which my newly appointed cooking guru David Lebovitz favors over balsamic. But I do think for this recipe, any old red wine vinegar will do if you don’t feel like running out to buy a sherry vinegar, which is not always available in every store. Aside from the dressing and the cheese, this recipe is very open to improvisation. The combination of sweet cherry tomatoes and strong Gorgonzola is just perfect.

Orzo with Chicken, Cherry Tomatoes and Gorgonzola

Kosher salt
2-1/4 cups orzo
1/2 cup plus 1 Tbs. extra-virgin olive oil, more as needed
1/3 cup sherry vinegar, more as needed
freshly ground pepper
3 cups halved cherry tomatoes (preferably a mix of colors and shapes)
1 cup crumbled Gorgonzola
1 to 2 cups cooked cubed chicken, seasoned with salt and pepper
2 thick slices of red onion, chopped
1/4 cup parsley, finely chopped
olives (optional)

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the orzo and cook per package instructions. Drain the pasta and toss it immediately with 1 Tbs. of the olive oil. Let the pasta cool completely in the refrigerator.

Put the sherry vinegar in a small bowl and gradually whisk in the remaining 1/2 cup of olive oil. Taste and season with salt, pepper, and additional sherry vinegar or olive oil as needed.

Put the cooked, cooled orzo in a large serving bowl. Add the cherry tomatoes, Gorgonzola, chicken, onions, olives and the vinaigrette and toss. Taste and season as needed with more salt and pepper. Serve within an hour or two of making.

Bob Blumer’s Maple Salmon

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Before I set off for Paris, I figured I would return home super excited to cook again after my long break from servitude daily meal prep. However, I am still finding my groove again. As it turns out, dining out in Paris for many days only inspires one to return home and…order pizza? dine out more? serve cereal for dinner? All of the above. Maybe it’s the weather, maybe it’s the post-vacation blues, but I’m really not all that into cooking these days.

So, anyway, congratulations Mr. Bob Blumer, you have the honor of having created the recipe which I used for one of the first real post-Paris meals I bothered to cook, and the only one worth publishing. First and foremost, this salmon passed the Andrew Test. Andrew is my picky one who some days likes salmon, some days does not like salmon. He seems to like salmon only when I’ve not bought enough of it and counted on him NOT liking salmon that meal.  We had enough salmon last night, so he was gearing up to not like it, but he was immediately hooked after one bite and declared it his favorite new salmon. I agree with Andrew.

This recipe uses 3/4 cup of real maple syrup, which I realize can be kind of pricey. DO NOT USE FAKE SYRUP, THOUGH. NO MRS. BUTTERWORTH! If you want to use less maple syrup, start with 3 tablespoons of syrup to 1 tablespoon of soy sauce and then increase proportionately until you have enough marinade. Also, please give this at least 24 hours to marinade. It makes a huge difference. I made this once before and only marinaded a few hours, and it wasn’t nearly as good.

This recipe calls for the grill, but I cooked it in the oven at 450 for about three minutes a side.

Bob Blumer’s Maple Salmon from Glutton for Pleasure by Bob Blumer

¾ cup maple syrup
¼ cup soy sauce
4 6-ounce salmon fillets, skin removed
¼ cup coarsely ground black pepper (Grind it yourself, or purchase “cracked” pepper at your grocery store.)

In a small deep bowl, or a resealable plastic bag, mix maple syrup and soy sauce. Add fillets so that marinade completely covers fish. Marinate in the refrigerator for as long as possible (a minimum of 4 hours, but ideally 24 – 48). Turn salmon (or bag) every few hours.

Preheat grill to medium-high direct heat.

Place pepper on a small plate. Remove salmon from marinade and pat top side into cracked pepper to coat.

Grill for approximately 3 minutes per side, starting with pepper side down, or until salmon is just on the verge of turning opaque.

yield 4 servings

The Food Groups of Paris

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Writing about the food of Paris is almost as overwhelming as writing about my wedding day or the birth of a child — so filled with wonder, joy, sublime layers and feelings, but I can barely manage to choke out more than tired cliches when attempting to describe it, and those tired cliches will never do it justice. What shall I include? What shall I omit? Anything I write will be woefully inadequate, but I feel compelled to try.

How was the food and dining experience in Paris? Spectacular. Wondrous. Magical. Artistic. Satisfying. Fresh. Delicious. Loving. I am so happy that my fancy, dress-wearing events occurred at the beginning of my time in Paris and not at the end, because I’m pretty sure none of my dresses would have zipped up by days 5 through 10. Needless to say, we ate well. Very, very well.

I am intrigued, almost to the point of obsession, about how a country can remain so slim and chic, yet eat like they do. After careful study, I have concluded a few things. One, like many city dwellers throughout the world, they walk a lot. Lydia estimated that she walks about five kilometers a day (about three miles), and I believe it. They are not a sedentary people and yet most do not seem overly occupied with le sport and working out, as we do.

Two, they are not snackers. French people savor every meal, eating slowly, always putting down their forks between bites. Meals are never rushed. That was one of my favorite things about my time there — the ability to feel like I can sit, relax, eat, and converse through multiple courses. The fact that much of the country is still eating multi-course dinners at 9:00 pm does not seem to hurt their waistlines, so our old American maxim of “no eating after 7:00 pm” is heartily disproved in France.

And finally? Portion, portion, portion control. I loved eating an appetizer, main course, salad, dessert or cheese, followed by coffee or armagnac, and never once feeling like Miss Piggy because it really was a little bit of everything and most places did not serve giant American portions. I was satisfied without feeling like a glutton. Considering how well I ate, I really didn’t gain that much weight — about two and a half pounds. I am quite sure most Parisians would struggle maintaining their weight if they ate twenty-seven restaurant meals in row, too. I have a feeling if I ate as many American restaurant meals for ten days straight, that number on the scale would be much higher. In any event, only an idiot would go to Paris and attempt to keep any sort of diet. The food is as much a part of the landscape as the museums and monuments, and missing out on that would be missing out on Paris itself.

I love escargot so much that it hurts. It is truly one of my perfect foods, and having escargot in Paris was one of the greatest experiences of my culinary life. I think I ordered escargot four times during the course of my visit, and they were spectacular every time. The picture above is from a lovely restaurant in Le Marais called Carrette. Most of the time, they were served as pictured above, but I did order them once in puffed pastry, too. The simple preparation using garlic, wine, butter and herbs is my favorite.

Croissants are a big part of daily life in France, and even though I am not a big bread-in-the-morning fan, skipping croissants seemed like skipping the Eiffel Tower. This picture of my daily French breakfast was taken from my neighborhood cafe, a spot which was cordial but not especially friendly. However, the price was right — under 4 euros for a coffee and croissant, while my hotel charged three times that amount for the same plus cereal and fruit. It was a nice start to my morning, sitting outside with my leisurely croissant and coffee while planning my day. I will miss my daily croissant, but my jeans will stop fitting if I continue this tradition.

Salads are a popular choice for lunchtime, and I ordered a slightly different version of this carpaccio salad at least three times that I can recall. It was incredibly flavorful and satisfying without ever feeling heavy. I am going to attempt to make something like this at home very soon.

If I ate escargot every chance I got, Ed ate some version or another of salmon tartare: he had salmon tartare topped with avocado, he had salmon tartare topped with cream, he had salmon tartare topped with crab, and, shown above, he had salmon tartar topped with quinoa and herbs. Each version was delicious, but this one was probably my favorite.

Finally, no food post about Paris is complete without mentioning macarons, the petite French almond cookies filled with ganache. Macarons may have been around since the de’ Medicis, but they just came on to my radar recently. (Also, I recently discovered a hot new band from England called The Beatles, have you heard of them?) The two great places to purchase macarons in Paris are Laduree (pictured above) or Pierre Hermé, which was conveniently located around the corner of our hotel. I am still trying to process how I feel about macarons. For one, they are pricey — about $1.60 a piece, which is certainly one way to help exercise self control while eating cookies. This tiny box, which any of my children could single-handedly consume in one sitting, was about $28. Like many other delusional American home cooks, I think I will attempt to make them myself one of these days. Julia Child has taught me to be fearless in the kitchen.

I have so much more to share — I could easily go on (and on and on and on) for weeks more, but I do believe it is finally time to stop and focus on the present. I will leave you with one of my favorite pictures taken from a market in Le Marais, and it sums up Paris perfectly: the ordinary is beautiful, and there is beauty everywhere you turn. Everywhere. I am so incredibly fortunate to have had this experience, and I know it will always be with me in a thousand different ways. I have changed for the better.

I’ve seen you, beauty, and you belong to me now, whoever you are waiting for and if I never see you again, I thought. You belong to me and all Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil. — Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

Postcard from Paris #3

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Another highlight of my trip was an afternoon of lunch and shopping with my aunt’s cousin Lydia. It was nice to spend the day with a real Parisian, and a lovely one at that. I could exhale a bit and let someone else do the talking and expert maneuvering around Paris. Our first stop was the rather intimidating 24 Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, home of Hermès. I simply could not go to Paris without stopping in there — if for no other reason than to say that I did — but I was happy to have my new French friend for backup. I considered buying a tie for Ed, but the one I liked the best is only available in the heavier silk twill, and I know that he would not have liked the thicker weight. The legendary window display was a vibrant yellow, with Kellys in offbeat combinations of red and green, orange and blue. If we’re shopping with my imaginary money, I’d still probably get my Kelly in a practical black color. See? Even imaginarily rich, I retain my good sense.

After Hermès, Lydia treated me to a fabulous outdoor lunch of beef carpaccio salad with shaved parmesan and mille feuille for dessert, and we headed to the world-renown Galeries Lafayette in search of a new handbag for moi. When we arrived at the Longchamp boutique, it was literally take-a-number-line-forms-here busy. Lydia told me that the Longchamp bags are really nothing special and not highly regarded among fashion savvy Frenchwomen, but very favored by foreigners. I read between the lines. She directed me to the Lancel section and told me Frenchwomen appreciate this brand which has been around since 1876 even though they have no presence in the US, and I immediately was drawn to the totes of their French Flair collection. Beautiful leather, beautiful hardware, and reversible (which I told myself would rationalize significantly blowing my self-imposed budget to Ed — if we think of it as TWO handbags instead of one, it’s almost a bargain, n’est ce pas?). I was happy to go for a bag which just felt better quality and aesthetically more “me.” It was a joy to shop with Lydia (don’t even get me started on the shoes! and the mustard!) and I look forward to her visit to the US later this summer.

My neighbor had recommended an English speaking wine tasting class by Ô Chateau, and we signed up for this one. From the website:

Ô Chateau’s Wine and Cheese Lunch has become a landmark for any gourmand traveler. We designed this tasting as a fun and different way to spend a meal in Paris. Instead of going to yet another restaurant, our Wine and Cheese Lunch is a great opportunity not only to taste good French products but also to get an education about them.

The tasting starts at noon in a beautiful tasting room. We’ll taste five different wines, coming from five different regions of France. From Champagne to Bordeaux, from Sancerre to the Rhone… just sit back and enjoy this tasty Tour de France of wine and cheeses – O Chateau style!

Most of the presentation will be focused on wine. Yet, your sommelier will suggest pairings, will explain to you why this cheese might work better with that wine. While you indulge in two of France’s best delicacies, you will learn about French wine, how to read a French label, how to pair it with food; you’ll be taken through a tour of France’s main wine regions…

A day spent walking around Paris can sure create an appetite, so servings of wine and cheese are generous. Plus we add some charcuterie (smoked ham from the South West of France, saucisson from Corsica…) to bring even more joy and color to the table.

I can assure you that this was every bit as fabulous as it sounds and definitely worth every euro. Sure, I am going to be absolutely insufferable at cocktail parties now, what with all my new found knowledge and dramatic affectations, but I accept that.

The weather in Paris was on the rainy side during our visit, but it rarely ever rained for long. Sunday was our first truly legitimate 100% sunny day, and the Parisians finally shed their coats and scarves and lounged en masse at the Jardin du Luxembourg. It was lovely to see so many people at rest, soaking up the sunshine and relaxing so openly. Like so much in Paris, the scene below felt right out of a movie. On the way to the gardens, we saw a man riding a bike with his little dog in the basket. Then we walked by a woman resting her head on a man’s shoulder while he read a book of poetry aloud. Can I make up a more beautiful French scene if I tried?

Next time: Food, fashion, whimsy and au revoir

Postcard from Paris #2

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When we first got to Paris, we took a hop-on-hop-off tour of the Seine, and we passed this massive palatial building strangely called L’Hôtel National des Invalides. We were very confused. What kind of hotel has armed guards with machine guns patrolling its exterior?  And who names a hotel after sick people? And why does it look like a palace? So many questions, but we were jet lagged and Eiffel tower bound, so we forgot about Les Invalides. (You can read all the answers by clicking the Wiki link on the name). Then on Tuesday night Ed informed me we had invitations to a private reception at the confusing “hotel” we saw known as Les Invalides, which is actually the site of Napoleon’s tomb as well as three different museums. But the real selling point (aside from awesome food and wine) was “fanfare” by the regiment de cavalerie de la garde republicaine, otherwise known as French military officers riding giant horses while playing trumpets, trombones, drums and prancing in elaborately choreographed circles. It was jaw-droppingly spectacular, and I will never forget my front row view. It felt like such a brazenly Napoleonic display of French superiority and made me proud to be a wannabe-Frenchman!

Here lies Napoleon.

Despite my secret suspicion that I hail from French royalty, I finally got over myself and braved the Metro. It was actually quite easy and user-friendly, even with its massive maze of colors and numbers and connecting commuter trains and various you-can’t-get-there-from-here type scenarios. Okay, I will admit my iPhone’s Metro app helped me tremendously, but more due to the tiny map print’s assault on my aging eyes than the actual directional challenges. After all, I am a veteran of the Philadelphia public transportation system, and the Metro/RER is the Ritz compared to Philly’s SEPTA. That said, urine smells the same in every country, and it’s still not my favorite method of transportation. Alas, champagne taste, beer budget.

I learned each Metro stop has its own “charm,” and some are more charming than others. I think Palais Royal, the blingiest Metro entrance ever, is my favorite. It made me happy every time I saw it. (I should note the black background of my scarf is making me look “fluffier” than I actually am, but I couldn’t resist sharing this picture).

At least four people have told me to skip the Louvre and head to the Musée d’Orsay, and now I understand why! What a fabulous little museum with a very impressive collection. The layout is so smart and logical, and I was lucky to catch a special exhibit of Degas’ nudes.

After my morning of conquering the Metro, next big adventure was sitting down in a very French, not very touristy cafe and ordering a lovely lunch, only to discover that my American magnetic strip credit cards were not accepted for the 23 euro bill, and I only had 9 euros on me. Quelle horreur! I don’t even know how to say, “May I wash the dishes?” in French. Fortunately, I was permitted to run to the nearest ATM (I left my Kindle there as a goodwill gesture, though nobody required me to do so), and I came back with plenty of cash.

I would be horrified enough if that happened in the US, but Paris? Ack! Fortunately, the Parisians have been nothing but lovely to me — everyone from taxi drivers to Metro clerks to waiters to Ed’s French business associates. I have nothing but compliments for them, and I’m a bit puzzled as to why they seem to get such a tough rap in the tour guides as rude and unfriendly. Au contraire! I feel like I understand their demeanor quite well, as I am quiet and reserved towards strangers (sometimes incorrectly confused for snobbery or elitism) but I will gladly help anyone who is polite and asks for my help. By the end of my trip, five different people asked me for directions en francais; certainly the most flattering compliment ever was to be mistaken for a Parisian who knows her way around town. My French is not great at all, but I do try, and perhaps that is the difference among people who are finding them rude.

I must tend to my enfants now, but I promise there is much more to share later this week.

Postcard from Paris #1

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I have found that it is the little things about Paris which have charmed me the most. We arrived and walked right to the massively overwhelming Louvre, where we saw countless Parisians and their little dogs on the beautiful grounds. Even the dogs have a delightful joie de vivre, frolicking in the shadow of the world’s greatest art collection with reckless abandon. I tend to keep a short leash on both my pets and my children, so I watched with wonder while a little Jack Russell terrier ran freely across acres of hundreds of people and their dogs, owner nowhere in sight and yet no doubt well cared for. He wound up at a fancy outdoor cafe near the pyramids, where a formidable older woman was dining with her dog, complete with a silver bowl of water on the ground. The Jack Russell waltzed right up and helped himself to the other dog’s water, and I shot the picture below. I don’t know why it made me so happy, but it did. It also made me question why I am so uptight. I would never allow my dog to do that, and yet is was such a joyful thing to watch. Maybe these Parisians are on to something.

We also witnessed a police chase. On rollerblades. We saw three African street vendors with their massive displays of Eiffel tower key chains jingling behind them, followed by three rollerblade-clad police officers chasing them into traffic where the vendors deftly jumped the concrete barriers the police could not pass with their rollerblades. Maybe you had to be there, but it was one of those funny, “Did we just see that?” moments. When your life is very predictable and orderly, the colorful characters of a city are a pleasant treat.

I could dedicate a whole blog to French children’s fashion alone. I have never seen such well dressed children in my life. Hats, scarves, wee little hipster glasses — I can hardly stand the cuteness. It almost made me want to have another child so I could dress him properly this time around. If it was socially acceptable to take pictures of strangers’ children, I would have many examples to show you. This little girl walked past Ed while I was taking his picture, so I don’t feel so bad sharing it:

My sense of direction is very poor, but I am at least able to follow a simple grid-like map for dummies in cities like New York and Philadelphia — the the kind of map you get in third grade when you learn basic map reading skills. While these cities have tall buildings, they also have a lot of unique landmarks among their gridlike plan, so I can usually bumble my way through. Paris, on the other hand, has street after street of beautiful but similar style limestone buildings, plus the occasional palatial museum, peppered with restaurants, cafes and brasseries. In addition, optical stores are everywhere — eyeglasses are a huge accessory in Paris, and I quickly learned using an optical shop as a landmark was a very bad idea. The glorious maze of quaint side streets caused me to walk in circles for 45 minutes all the while being a mere two minutes from my intended destination. Embarrassing and sad. On the plus side, it’s also a bit magical. If you’re going to get lost anywhere, I highly suggest getting lost in Paris. Nestled between the alleys, I would stumble upon the classy French version of a strip mall (picture below) and it reminded me a bit of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe — a totally unexpected world.

Based on yesterday’s “adventure,” I was hesitant to set out on my own for Palais Garnier, but I had no choice. I didn’t come to Paris to sit in a hotel room. I realized my modern life is filled with very few challenges. And even though finding a giant opera house less than half a mile from my hotel is not exactly Amazing Race material, I felt proud of myself. I met up with a group from the highly recommended Paris Walks, and I was able to enjoy the rich history of THE opera house which inspired Phantom of the Opera even more.

One of the highlights of my trip (and probably my life) was attending a reception at the US Embassy and meeting Ambassador Charles Rivkin and his wife Susan Tolson. The embassy feels like a country estate right in the middle of busy Paris. The interior was opulent (what isn’t opulent in France?) but the grounds and the gardens surprised me the most. The wine ranked up there with the best I ever drank, and the appetizers were innovative and — of course — beautiful and très petite. More on the food and wine in later posts, I promise.

I don’t usually share too much about Ed’s work, as it’s his story to tell and not mine, but I will say that I am so proud of the work he and his colleagues do, and so humbled by the sacrifice made by our military. I was honored to be mingling with such a fine group of people and didn’t expect the evening to inspire feelings of patriotism. I was truly impressed with every person I met at the embassy and walked away feeling like our country is in very capable hands. I realize I don’t get out much, but one thing living in Chester County, Pennsylvania has taught me is the ability to tell the difference between genuinely impressive people and people who just try to impress you. I was in a room full of genuinely impressive people, and not one show-off in the bunch. Très refreshing!

I have blathered on long enough for one post. If you are still reading this, merci! I will probably file two more trip reports (more for my own decrepit memory than for any other reason, but I will try hard not to bore you).

See also: Postcard #2, Postcard#3, The Food Groups of Paris

She Went to Paris, Looking for Answers to Questions That Bothered Her So

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With apologies to Mr. Jimmy Buffett.

Tomorrow I am leaving for Paris for ten days with Ed. We have both been to Paris separately, but never together. This trip is part business for Ed, all pleasure for me. Our hotel is walking distance to the Louvre, a stone’s throw from Opéra Garnier, and not too far from the Mothership. A thousand thank yous to my part-time boss, full-time friend who has outfitted me with a king’s ransom worth of Hermès from her private collection. It is not every day that a friend insist you borrow scarves, shawls and handbags which retail for more than your first car. Of all the things I will remember about this trip, I am sure my friend’s generosity will rank right up there.

I was fifteen the first time I went to Europe. My single mother believed so strongly in the benefit of travel that she dipped into her hard-earned savings so that I could participate with my classmates. It was an amazing trip — Paris, Nice, Cannes, Monte Carlo, no drinking age, and minimal supervision. We flew over on Pan-Am, back when people still smoked on airplanes and wandered the aisles with full shampoo bottles in their oversized carry-ons large enough to fit a five year old child. I loved every single second of it, and I’m so grateful for the sacrifice my mother made to send me there.

Now once again, I could not be going without Mom. She will be staying in my house and watching my three kids and crazy dog for ten days, which is no small feat. Thanks, Mom! I wish you strength and a sense of humor, and please know that we realize this trip would be impossible without you. Thanks, too, for my wonderful Dad and his girlfriend, who are my designated relief pitchers as well as emergency back-up. I will sleep well knowing my kids are in such great hands.

When I was younger, there was no place I didn’t want to go. I had such a drive to connect with the rest of the world and so firmly believed the shift in perspective achieved through travel contributes to an understanding of what’s really important, what really threads together humanity. And then the years passed and I got more and more insulated in my safe little world. International travel — especially without my whole family in tow — seemed more scary, more of a hassle, more stress, less fun. There is still a part of me remaining who knows it’s a good thing to get away, but she’s buried deep.

And all of the answers and all of the questions
Locked in his attic one day
’cause he liked the quiet clean country livin’
And twenty more years slipped away

—Jimmy Buffett, He Went to Paris

As I’ve told my friends, complaining about going to Paris is like complaining you’re too skinny to find a good pair of jeans. Not a lot of people are very sympathetic. And I’m not complaining, really. But I’m slightly worried and anxious about this trip, and I hate that I am. Travel is a leap of faith, especially for control freaks. However, I am determined to push through the fear and not let it stop me from doing something I really want to do. It’s what I would tell my children to do, and it’s what I need to do myself.

There are definitely two different people inhabiting me, and they frequently battle for dominance. Adventurous Me wants to travel the world and Safe Me wants to stay right where she is. Safe Me has been mostly winning the past twenty years and has developed into a bit of a hothouse orchid. She’s not that keen on leaving her perfectly controlled pristine environment and setting out for where Thar Be Dragons. But I realize that hothouse orchid is just a hop, skip and a jump away from agoraphobia, and I will not go there. I refuse. I am choosing Paris instead.

I can’t wait to share all of my adventures with you, culinary and otherwise. I am excited to stretch outside my comfort zone and return home to my loving family and friends with a fresh new perspective. And maybe a new scarf or two. Au revoir, mes amis. Je vous adore.

Never go on trips with someone you do not love. — Ernest Hemingway, A Movable Feast

Mom Mom Has a New Apron

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We all know I love aprons, especially my Mom Mom’s apron, despite looking like a depression-era hausfrau whenever I wear it. Which is many times a week. But I also like other aprons, and I’m fortunate to have a couple of friends who sew.

My friend Ivy sent me this lovely apron recently. I love that it’s pretty but also a busy enough print that I won’t think twice about wiping my saucy, greasy hands on it. That’s the problem with a lot of my aprons — my mom instincts kick in and I don’t want to get them dirty! I have learned that dark or busy prints are very forgiving.

Ivy has some free time this summer and could possibly make you an apron, too. She is an honest woman who does high quality work at a fair price. If you’re interested in commissioning an apron of your very own, you can contact Ivy at Ivychilde@aol.com

Sriracha Popcorn

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Popcorn is my perfect snack food — a crunchy, satisfying vehicle for butter and salt. When it comes to popcorn, I tend to shy away from the fancy, but every now and then I get a little crazy and try something new, like this sinfully delicious Cinnamon Bun Popcorn. I came across several recipes for Sriracha Popcorn yesterday, but many of them seemed too overpowering for my palate. In my opinion, sriracha is a stand-alone ingredient and really doesn’t need the enhancement of ranch flavoring or parmesan. But sriracha with simple butter and salt? Sign me up!

I popped about half a cup of popcorn using oil, and then I melted 2 to 3 tablespoons of salted butter and mixed 1 tablespoon of sriracha into the melted butter. Pour over popcorn, add salt to taste, and voila! Popcorn with a nice little kick. Not much of a “recipe” as much as a fun variation of everyone’s favorite snack.

Arugula Salad with Lemon-Parmesan Dressing

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We pulled up the last of the arugula crop last weekend, and I set out to find a light but kicky little dressing to compliment it. As usual, Bon Appetit didn’t let me down. This is a bright, versatile dressing that I will definitely be making again.

My cute green and white bowl (thank you for noticing) is from Target’s Privet House Collection.

Lemon-Parmesan Dressing, Bon Appetit, April 2009

Ingredients:

  • 1/3 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
  • 5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
  • 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
  • 1 teaspoon finely grated lemon peel
  • 4 cups (packed) baby arugula
  • 1 cup halved cherry tomatoes
Directions:

Blend first 4 ingredients in processor. Season dressing with salt and pepper. Transfer to bowl. Cover; chill up to 3 days.

Combine arugula and tomatoes in large bowl. Toss with enough dressing to coat.