When I was growing up, the one good thing about coming down with the flu was the guarantee that there would be pudding. My mom firmly believed that it was good for tender stomachs and since it was made with milk, it offered enough nutrition to get us back on the road to recovery. She’d alternate between a basic stovetop rice pudding and vanilla pudding from a packet.
For years, I thought puddings and custards were only good for those sick days when you needed something slightly sweet and easy to slurp. However, thanks to Faith Durand and her new book, Bakeless Sweets, my eyes have been opened to the many possibilities that exist in the world of puddings (as well as in panna cottas, jellies, and fluffs). MORE
Homemade hummus is pretty easy to pull together from your cabinets – a can of chickpeas, olive oil, garlic, salt, maybe some lemon juice – except for one key ingredient. Tahini may not have made it on your grocery list yet, but I’m here to tell you that one of the most intriguing (and surprisingly versatile) ingredients that will ever grace your pantry. If tahini were a Pokémon, it would be Ditto, taking on the powers and properties of other Pokémon – or in this case, ingredients. It can be anything, anywhere, and can be incorporated into a wide gamut of recipes without sticking out like a sore thumb. It can take on other flavors, or stand out on its own – however you choose to use it.
I’m kind of a slob, in spite (because?) of the very organized, on-time, WASPy nature of most of my life. But I’ve made peace. It doesn’t bother me that I can’t see my bedroom carpet because I have a second carpet made out of sweaters I put on then decided they didn’t match my outfit and discarded, and of towels that might be clean, or might not be, whatever. There are always coins and pens and miscellaneous pocket-items in my bed, because I flop onto it with my clothes still on and toss my purse on my pillow and stuff just falls out. I don’t care.
Red lentils are one of my staple legumes. They are wonderfully cheap, cook quickly, and look so darn pretty in a jar on the shelf. When I know I have a busy week ahead of me, I will often cook a few cups to keep in the fridge. I puree them into dips, use them to add bulk to lunchtime salads, or slip them to blended soups that I know could use some extra substance and thickening.
Packing up and moving a kitchen is a pain. But realizing, as you close the sole box that your own equipment fills, that all the good stuff actually belonged to your roommate—now that’s a tragedy.
In my kitchen, the tools are half the fun. I have a potato peeler shaped like a monkey, a butter knife with a clay piece of toast as its handle, and a scrubber that’s attached to the back of a porcupine.
Long before I was born, my dad worked as a short order cook at the International House of Pancakes. During each shift, he cooked eggs, ran the waffle iron, and flipped stack after stack of doughy pancakes. While he didn’t mind the work as a line cook, he was singularly dissatisfied with the quality of the pancakes and waffles he was charged with making. He began experimenting with his own recipe for an easily stored baking mix that could be stirred into a batter far superior to IHOP’s.