A Little Pasta Party

I'm Italian, as I imagine you are too. Maybe it's just a sweeping cultural generalization, or we actually do have hotter blood pumping through our veins. Either way, we only deal in one of two emotions: unrelenting rage and jubilant gaiety. Rarely do the two mix. Except in the bedroom. The joy is brought about by many things such as pie, booze and the gentle purrs of my cat. The rage is triggered by mostly everything...from misplaced sunglasses to one of the good plates getting broken. Nothing is too small to get worked up about. Unfortunately for you non-Italians, there's no delicate way to deal with these unpredictable bouts of passion. It's best just to wait it out because there will probably be a pasta dish once the tantrum subsides. I keep this relic of my dad's college days in my kitchen to warn strangers that they're walking on eggshells. 

A Little Pasta Sunday

If you're reading this, it probably means you're also awake at 4:30 in the morning. In my new life as semi-professional baker for Bang Bang Pie Shop I keep the hours of a farmer. That means waking up before the rooster crows and going to sleep sometimes before the sun even sets. That being said, it beats the hell out of corporate life.  I'm on a vision quest folks, I'll see ya when I run out of peyote. The plus side is that it's really brought my cat and I closer together. In the case of yesterday morning, Baby Toulouse's never-ending appetite for crushed up pretzels and water got me out of bed on time, after I slept through my alarm. I'd say sorry for the long gap between posts, but if you're really that into my blog, your life is probably sad. 

A Little Dinner Party in the Raw

And so it begins. Another summer in my lakefront Chicago sweatbox. How is it that in an age where I can watch pornography on my cellphone, my apartment remains air conditionless?  It's not so bad after awhile. You get used to wearing a tank top when you sit down, so that the pleather furniture doesn't stick to you. I wish I could say this was my first "vintage" apartment, but I'm a cheap bastard and I'll swelter if it means saving a buck. The one table fan I have really helps keep the humidity at a consistent 100%. Suffice it to say, exteme summer temperatures keep indoor entertaining to a minimum.  If I have to get near a hot stove, I prefer to do it naked. 

A Little Snowed-In Dinner

Unless you live under a rock, or have actually frozen to death, you know the Midwest is the North Pole right now. I wish I could say I've never had to wrap my cat in a dish towel to regulate his body temperature, but in the summer I didn't have air conditioning. That's one of the drawbacks to my otherwise amazing vintage Chicago apartment. Now that the tables have turned entirely, I'm barricading my drafts with blankets, wrapping the cat in towels and telling ghost stories around my space heater. The only thing to do in weather that restricts you to the four walls of your studio is make soup, and love, but mostly soup. I finally got a new food processor for Christmas as I accidentally broke my old one. I've been dying to make this since the first nip in the air, but it's virtually impossible without a blender or processor. I normally hate recipes that require extra kitchen gadgetry but I'll stand by this staple recipe. 

Broiled Tomato Soup Cups 

Folks, I won't lie to you. If this recipe looks familiar it's because it was featured on Smitten Kitchen, which is my culinary and spiritual bible. I don't publish recipes that are not mostly my own. I spun this one slightly different than she does by adding a little of this, and a little of that. In case Deb Perelman ever tries to sue me. I'd be so flattered. I make mine a little closer to the consistency of French Onion Soup than classic tomato soup. It's basically the same idea. 

You will need the following 

5 plum tomatoes sliced in half

2 tbsp olive oil 

2 garlic cloves 

2 c vegetable stock 

a pinch of dry thyme 

2 tbsp dry vermouth

a pinch of basil 

salt & pepper

2 tbsp grated red onion 

1/2 c shredded sharp cheddar

baguette slices 

a god damned food processor or blender

Step 1: Preheat oven to 400. Line a cookie sheet with foil and dowse tomatoes in oil, salt, pepper, and dry basil or whatever spices tickle your fancy. Wrap unpeeled garlic cloves in foil, put on same sheet. Roast 30-ish minutes. Enough that tomatoes fall apart. 

Step 2: Transfer roasted tomatoes to food processor. Take garlic from foil and squeeze into the processor cup. You will burn your hands during this process. I like to do this part by myself so as to swear in the privacy of my own kitchenette. 

Step 3: Puree tomatoes. I don't care for chunks. Toss the olive oil from the baking sheet in there too, why the hell not? While you puree, put stock, vermouth and additional spices into a pot. Combine tomato mush with stock and let simmer for like 30 minutes. It won't scour since it's more of a broth. Again, I suggest doing this ahead of time - the longer it sits the better it tastes. 

Step 4: The next day, or whenever, pour soup into individual bakers. Preheat oven to 400. Butter your baguette slices and toast those for a few minutes, careful not to burn them. Put baguette slices in soup cups, and top with grated onion and cheddar. Bake soups uncovered for 15 minutes. Eat immediately, expect the roof of your mouth to hate you. *Bake soups on a baking sheet because it will likely bubble over and make a mess*

It's mostly healthy. 

Another Little Brunch

Roasted Tomato Quiche with Savory Cheddar Crust

I'll be the first to admit this was something I put together only because I had all this stuff in my fridge. It was pretty good. Side-note, I'm getting really good at eyeballing ingredients and ending up with the perfect amount of pastry crust. This is another hangover-adjacent brunch recipe as you can prepare it the night before. If you make these in mini-pies your belly won't look as fat at the beach. 

you will need the following

for the crust

3/4 c flour

2 tbsp butter

1/4 tsp 

1/4 tsp Italian herb blend

shredded cheddar

salt & pepper

for filling 

4 plum tomatoes (sliced)

3 eggs

1/2 milk

onion slices

shredded cheddar 

Italian herb blend

salt & pepper

Step 1: Oven to 375. Slice tomatoes and lay on a baking sheet dowsed in oil and herbs. Bake 30 minutes. 

Step 2: While tomatoes roast, mix dry crust ingredients. Chop in butter and push together with a spoon. Once butter is spread spill in a tablespoon ice water and cheese until dough forms. Chill and then roll out. 

Step 3: While crust chills, whisk eggs, milk, herbs and spices. Roll out dough and start building. 

Step 4: Stack tomatoes, onions and cheese. Fill in with egg mixture. Bake at 375 until set (about 45 minutes). To reheat, bake at 325 for 20 minutes.