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The Lives They Lived David Rakoff

David Rakoff

B. 1964  |  By ARIEL KAMINER

Rakoff and Kaminer in July, 2012.

In August, David Rakoff — a longtime contributor to and friend of this magazine — died of cancer. He published three collections of essays and finished, days before he died, a novel (in rhyming couplets) that will be published posthumously. He acted in movies and plays and was a regular contributor to the radio show “This American Life.” What he was best at, though, was friendship. Below is an excerpt from a letter sent to Rakoff, shortly before his death, by Ariel Kaminer, which Rakoff’s family agreed to share.

David,

You know how much I love you, but what I’ve never told you is how much I’ve learned from you.

Here is the simplest lesson you taught me: Don’t trade up.

In terms of three-word volumes, it ranks right up there with “It gets better.” Like that more famous line, it starts out as a bit of simple, practical instruction — don’t back out of a social engagement just because a snazzier offer came along — and broadens out into an entire perspective on how to live. Don’t grade friendships on a hierarchical scale. Don’t value people based on some external indicator of status. Don’t take a competitive view of your social life. There are very few rules I carry around with me every day. Don’t trade up is one of them, and I truly can’t tell you how many seemingly complicated situations it resolved into clarity and fairness. I am grateful to you for that.

Examples of the gifts made by David Rakoff for his friends: a handpainted jacket, cigar box and yo-yo. Rakoff often made Champagne-cage chairs as impromptu gifts for friends. Gabrielle Plucknette/The New York Times

Here is another: As fun and Margo Channing as it might seem to be drunk and witty and cutting, it’s probably better in the long run to be kind.

You came to this realization, I gather, about 1990. I read the essay in which it appears a full 20 years later, and it was still only just slowly dawning on me. I knew, of course, we were supposed to strive for kindness. But I hadn’t yet gotten to the point of clarity that your simple sentence brought: cutting wit can be fun, but at some point you have to decide what’s more important to you, and the options are not equivalent. It seems insane, or worse, that I didn’t have that epiphany until I was 40 — years after I had aged out of those drunk-witty-and-cutting nights out on the town. I was just cooking for my family and going to bed. But until I read your essay, I had not put away childish things. You grew me up.

Here is a third. It’s the big one: Be grateful and humble and mean it.

The other day a friend found me in a sad state. When I told her why, she shook her head in disbelief and said something like, “Someone like David Rakoff can have all the talent in the world and all the most devoted friends and all the adulation, but when something like this happens, none of that makes any difference.” I knew exactly what you’d say: It does. It makes all the difference. I know you feel that way without even asking you, because you’ve always described your gifts and the company of your friends as humblingly good fortune. A lot of people say things like that, but few could do with it what you do. And that’s because you mean it.

Humility should be easier for me than for you to practice. I don’t have millions of people racing to their radios to listen to me, devouring my books, guffawing at my jokes, applauding my performances, crying at my movies. And gratitude should be easier for me, too, because for God’s sake, I don’t have metastatic cancer. But it isn’t. I still lose sight of the big picture and feel petulant and entitled. Thinking about you helps.

This has nothing to do with the nobility of suffering. I would just as easily have said all this the year that I met you as the year that I will lose you. What’s so astonishing, however, is that you would say the same thing in both those years. I don’t know a lot of people, maybe no one else at all, whose values are that clear and that unshakable.

Your friendship is a powerful force. You bake bread, paint denim jackets, craft pear lanterns, adapt screenplays, talk through breakups, pay sickbed visits, slice freezer cookies and give home décor consults for more people than I’ll ever meet. I can’t do what you do, but I think about what motivates your kindness, and I try to learn from that. I’ve done it from the earliest days of our friendship, and I plan to keep at it for a great many years to come.

Thank you for giving me that chance, and for being my friend.

Love, Ariel

Ariel Kaminer is a reporter for The Times, covering higher education in the New York region.

In short, I’m freed of an insidious form of self-censorship, based on a deeply misguided self-image all too common among mainstream media types, in which journalists, including “serious” opinion journalists, are supposed to remain detached and above the fray — not to say cynically aloof and perpetually bemused — in order to be taken seriously. Once you’ve become an advocate, once you’ve taken an unambiguous moral stand, so the thinking goes, your intellectual honesty is compromised.

Well, I’m sorry, but that’s just bullshit.

When I became a journalist, I didn’t check my conscience, my citizenship, or my humanity at the door. Nor, when I became an advocate and activist, did I sacrifice my intellectual honesty. If anything, I salvaged it.



Read more: http://thephoenix.com/boston/news/146647-convenient-excuse/#ixzz2BcPqgDJH

Why Fiction?

So I love hearing from people who have no time for fiction. Who read only biographies and popular science. I love hearing about the death of the novel. I love getting lectures about the triviality of fiction, the triviality of making things up. As if that wasn’t what all of us do, all day long, all life long. Fiction gives us everything. It gives us our memories, our understanding, our insight, our lives. We use it to invent ourselves and others. We use it to feel change and sadness and hope and love and to tell each other about ourselves. And we all, it turns out, know how to do it
.


 

This looks easy.

101 Cookbook’s Sprout Salad

Sprout Salad

3/4 cup / 6 oz / 170 g plain Greek yogurt
1/4 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
1 handful arugula, chopped
1 small bunch chives, minced

8 oz mung bean sprouts (or equiv. cooked mung beans), about 2 cups

a big handful of well-toasted, sliced almonds
1 ripe avocado, chopped
good extra virgin olive oil

to finish: chive flowers (optional)

In a small bowl combine the yogurt, salt, arugula, and chives.

In a larger bowl toss the mung beans and almonds with a splash of olive oil and a pinch of salt. Add the avocado, and gently toss once or twice more.

Serve the mung beans next to the yogurt mixture and drizzle with a bit more olive oil. If you had a few chive flowers in your bunch, sprinkle them across the top.

Serves 2 - 4.

Prep time: 5 min

Cumin Seed Roasted Cauliflower with Yogurt, Mint and Pomegranate

with feta-yogurt, pomegranate, mint

Cumin Seed Roasted Cauliflower with Yogurt, Mint and Pomegranate
Adapted from Melissa Clark’s Cook This Now

This dish gets an amazing amount of flavor out of just a few ingredients. That said, if you’re not into cauliflower, it would probably be good with broccoli. And if you’re not into cauliflower or broccoli, well, you must have driven your mother batty when you were little, didn’t you? Ahem, what I meant to say was that I think it could work with other things, like potatoes or squash. But really, you should try it with the cauliflower. You might find you’ve eaten half the dish before you even left the kitchen.

Serves 2, probably

2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 large head cauliflower (mine was 1 3/4 pounds)
1 teaspoon whole cumin seeds
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus additional
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Plain yogurt (I used whole milk yogurt, Greek style)
1/4 cup crumbled feta (optional)
Chopped fresh mint leaves, for serving
Pomegranate seeds, for serving

Preheat oven to 425°F. Brush a large baking sheet or roasting pan with 1 tablespoon of the olive oil.

Cut your cauliflower into bite-size florets but no need to make them all evenly sized. The smaller ones get more blistery, the bigger ones retain more texture and they’ll all be happy mingled together. Toss florets with remaining olive oil, cumin seeds, salt and pepper and spread out on prepared tray. Roast for 20 to 30 minutes, until cauliflower is tender and its edges are toasty.

Either whisk a pinch of salt into your yogurt or to make feta-yogurt sauce blend 3/4 cup yogurt with feta in a food processor until smooth. Dollop on cauliflower then sprinkle dish with mint and pomegranate seeds. Eat immediately and vow to seriously make more effort in the lunch department if it can be this easy.

More recipes?


easiest garlicky broccoli rabe pasta

Pasta with Garlicky Broccoli Rabe
Adapted, just a smidge, from Gourmet, September 2006

The original recipe calls for spaghetti, but I prefer short, chunky pastas that are spear-able by toddler forks. I fell for a “toscani” shape, though it also looks likecampanelle, “little bells.” I think it looks like pretty, pretty locks of hair.

So, unless I think the texture of a salt really makes a difference in a dish, I usually default to table salt in my recipes, because it’s cheap and everyone keeps it around (and, better that someone uses a coarse salt for a table salt volume and undersalts a dish than the other, irreversible, way around). But! Not here. Please don’t use table salt. Most table salt is iodized and that iodine can turn your garlic a weird bright blue/green color. It will still be safe to eat but look… disturbing. Trust me, I learned the hard way.

1 pound pasta, whatever shape you like (but chunky ones will match up better with the rabe)
1 pound broccoli rabe, heavy stems removed, remaining stems and leaves cut into 1- to 2-inch sections (I attempt to match my pasta in length)
1/2 cup olive oil
5 garlic cloves, peeled and minced or pressed
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes, or more or less to taste
About 1 heaping teaspoon Kosher salt (or more to taste)

To serve: Grated Parmesan or Romano cheese

Bring a huge pot of salted water to a boil. Add pasta and five minutes before its cooking time is up, add the broccoli rabe. It will seem like too much for the water, but with a stir or two, the rabe should wilt and cook alongside the pasta. Drain rabe and pasta together and pour into serving bowl. In the same pot or a tiny one, heat the olive oil with the garlic, pepper flakes and Kosher salt over moderate heat, stirring frequently for 3 to 4 minutes, or until the garlic becomes lightly golden. Pour mixture over pasta and toss to evenly coat. Shower with freshly grated cheese and eat at once.

carrot cake pancakes

Carrot Cake Pancakes
Adapted, barely, from the Joy the Baker Cookbook

The only thing I can say I gravely dislike about making carrot cake is the need for finely grated carrots. My love for my food processor’s shredding blade, which reduces potatoes to hash browns in two seconds flat, is well-documented but it’s not the right tool for these pancakes, because (at least in the case of my FP) the shredded carrots are too coarse, and won’t cook to a point of tenderness in their few minutes on the grill. Hand-grating on the fine holes of a box grater is the way to go.

Nevertheless, once you’ve endured that hardship, it’s delicious sailing the rest of the way. If you’re of the misconception, as I was, that cream cheese frosting has no place at the breakfast meal, I think this will change your mind: softened cream cheese is beaten with just a fraction of the sugar you’d use in a real frosting, and milk, not cream, is used as a thinning agent. Despite concerted dolloping efforts, we had a bit of extra and should you, as well, I advise you to definitely not try to figure out whether it would taste good on banana bread, or an oatmeal muffin, or a… spoon. Just don’t. It’s a slippery slope.

Yield: About 12 to 16 3- to 4-inch pancakes

Pancakes
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon table salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg (I used a smidge less)
1/8 teaspoon ground ginger
2 tablespoons chopped walnuts (optional, I skipped them)
2 tablespoons golden raisins (optional, ditto)
1 large egg
2 tablespoons packed brown sugar
1 cup buttermilk
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 cups finely grated carrots (from about a 3/4 pound bundle whole carrots)
3 tablespoons butter, for griddle

Cream cheese topping
4 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature
1/4 cup powdered sugar
2 to 3 tablespoons milk
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Dash of ground cinnamon

Place a rack in the upper third of your oven and preheat to 200°F. This will keep the pancakes warmed as they’re fried in batches.

To make the pancakes: In a large bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger and, if using, nuts and raisins. In a small bowl, whisk together the egg, brown sugar, buttermilk and vanilla. Stir in carrots. Stir carrot mixture into dry ingredients, stirring until just Incorporated. Let rest for five minutes while you make the cream cheese topping.

To make the cream cheese topping: In a small bowl, beat the cream cheese until fluffy and lump-free. Whisk in powdered sugar, two tablespoons milk, vanilla and cinnamon. If you’d like the mixture thinner, add the remaining tablespoon of milk (I did not).

Over medium heat, melt 1 tablespoon butter in a cast-iron skillet or griddle pan. Spoon 2 tablespoons batter into the hot pan per pancake (to me, this seemed like too little but after experimenting with larger pancakes, I advise you to listen to Joy; It’s a wiggly batter and much easier to and cook in small puddles), flipping once, until pancakes are golden on both sides, about 2 minutes per side. Transfer finished pancakes to a serving dish or tray in the oven, to keep warm while you repeat the process with the remaining batter, adding more butter as needed.

Serve warm with cream cheese topping.

Potato Chip Cookies
Adapted from Emeril

Shockingly, we actually felt that these cookies needed more salt; just a smidge. Sounds crazy, right? If you’re using an extra-salty brand of potato chips, you might not find this necessary but I used Cape Cod, which is pretty salty, and felt that the salt in a crushed half cup was insufficient in the cookie batter.

I’ve included two “finish” options — one is the potato-and-sea-salt flakes you see on my cookies and the other is the chocolate dip I wished I had time for. I was thinking of these as an either/or finish, but I see no reason why both cannot be use. That said, I’m pretty sure the chocolate would steal the show.

Remaining weights to come! (I left my notes at home and am away this weekend.)

Cookie
1 cup (2 sticks or 225 grams) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup (200 grams) granulated sugar, divided
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon table salt (optional, see note above)
1/2 cup chopped and toasted pecans
1/2 cup finely crushed potato chips
2 cups (250 grams) all-purpose flour

Potato chip salt finish (optional)
1 tablespoon crushed potato chips
1 1/2 teaspoons flaked sea salt

Chocolate dip finish (optional)
4 ounces (115 grams) semi- or bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped
1 teaspoon butter, canola oil or vegetable shortening

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside. In a large bowl, cream together the butter with 1/2 cup of the sugar until lightly and fluffy. Mix in the vanilla and table salt, if using, until smooth. Add the pecans, 1/2 cup crushed potato chips and flour together and mix until just combined.

Place the remaining 1/2 cup sugar in a small bowl. Scoop a tablespoon-sized mound of dough and form it into a small ball with the palms of your hands. Roll the ball in the remaining sugar until coated. Place on prepared baking sheet and using the bottom of a drinking glass (or, in my case, a kitchen tool I’m unhealthily obsessed with) to slightly flatten the cookies. Cookies only need to be an inch apart; they only spread a little. Sprinkle with a few flakes of the potato chip salt, if using. Repeat with remaining dough.

Bake cookies until lightly golden at the edges, about 15 minutes. Transfer to cool on a wire rack.

If dipping in chocolate, melt chocolate with butter, oil or shortening in a double boiler or in short bursts in the microwave. Stir until smooth. Dip half of each fully cooled cookie in the chocolate, and let dry and harden on a wire rack.

Other recipes to try…


artichoke potato tortilla

Potato Tortilla with Artichokes and Red Peppers
The New Spanish Table

It’s been way too long since I made my last tortilla and if you’re looking for the classic version, start there. This version was devised by a friend of the author’s to use up leftover boiled potatoes. Although not traditional — with that long sauté in olive oil and including red peppers and artichokes — it is no less delicious.

Serves 6 to 8 as a tapa, 2 as a light main dish.

About 4 tablespoons olive oil, plus more if needed
1/2 medium-size onion, quartered and thinly sliced
1 large boiled Yukon Gold potato, quartered and thinly sliced (a leftover potato works great here)
3 marinated artichoke hearts (from a can or jar), rinsed, patted dry, and thinly sliced
1/4 cup sliced piquillo peppers or roasted red bell peppers
4 large, very fresh eggs, preferably organic
2 tablespoons chick stock or broth
Coarse salt (kosher or sea)

1. Heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil in a medium-sized skillet over medium heat. Add the onion and cook until limp but not brown, 3 to 5 minutes. Add the potato and cook, stirring gently, for 5 minutes. Stir in the artichokes and peppers and cook, stirring, for another 2 to 3 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the vegetable mixture to a bowl and let cool completely.

2. Place the eggs, chicken stock, and a few small pinches of salt in a medium-sized bowl and beat until just scrambled. Add the potato mixture and mix until well combined. Let stand for about 10 minutes.

3. Heat 5 teaspoons of the reserved olive oil in a heavy 8-inch skillet, preferably nonstick, over medium-high heat until it is just beginning to smoke. Pour the egg mixture into the skillet and flatten the potatoes with a spatula until the top is fairly even. Reduce the heat to medium-low. Cook, moving and shaking the skillet, running a thin spatula around the edge and sliding it into the middle so that some of the egg runs under for about one minute, then let it cook undisturbed until the top is a little wet but not liquid, 6 to 8 minutes.

4. Run the thin spatula under the tortilla to make sure that no part of the bottom is stuck to the skillet. Top the skillet with a rimless plate slightly larger than the skillet and, using oven mitts, quickly invert the tortilla onto the plate. If the skillet looks dry, add a little more olive oil. Carefully slide the tortilla back into the skillet, uncooked side down. Shake the skillet to straighten the tortilla and push the edges in with the spatula. Reduce the heat to very low and cook the tortilla until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out dry, 3 to 4 minutes. Invert the tortilla again, as before, to cook on the first side for another minute.

5. Invert the tortilla onto a serving plate and pat the top with a paper towel to get rid of excess oil. Let it cool a little, then cut the tortilla into wedges and serve warm or at room temperature. To serve as a tapa, cut the tortilla into squares and serve with toothpicks.

Chard and White Bean Stew
Adapted a bit generously from Dan Barber

I started with a recipe from Dan Barber for a kale and white bean stew, even though I knew it wasn’t what I wanted. I have yet to get over my dislike of kale, despite a brief period of acceptance when I learned how to make it into chips. I used chard instead, but you could use any green you’ve got, even spinach. (Though if you are unfamiliar with chard but like spinach, trust me, you’ll love chard.) I also only used 2/3 of the greens suggested, because I really want this to be a white bean, not greens, stew. Then, I swapped some of the vegetable broth for pureed tomatoes, because that’s what I think a bean stew needs. I dialed back the broth a bit, because I don’t like soupy stews… Oh, and I added some weights and then (typical!) forgot I was weighing ingredients so only some are listed. Sorry about that.

Finally, I cooked the wine down more than suggested because I wanted to make sure I wasn’t accidentally going to booze up the kid so that he might accidentally get a good night’s sleep. Because that would be terrible, you know?

1 pound Swiss chard (can also swap kale, spinach or another green), ribs and stems removed and cleaned
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 cup (5 1/4 ounces) chopped carrots
1 cup (5 ounces) chopped celery
1 cup (4 1/4 ounces) chopped shallots, about 4 medium
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 cup dry white wine
2 15-ounce cans (or about 3 3/4 cups) white beans, drained and rinsed
2 cups (or more to taste) vegetable broth
1 cup pureed tomatoes (from a can/carton/your jarred summer supply)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
3 fresh thyme sprigs
1 bay leaf
1 tablespoon sherry vinegar

Toasted bread slices, poached eggs (tutorial), chopped herbs such as tarragon, parsley or chives or grated Parmesan or Romano to serve (optional)

Bring medium pot of salted water to boil. Cook chard (or any heavier green; no need to precook baby spinach) for one minute, then drain and squeeze out as much extra water as possible. Coarsely chop chard.

Wipe out medium pot to dry it, and heat olive oil over medium. Add carrots, celery, shallots and garlic and saute for 15 minutes. Barber warns not to brown them but I didn’t mind a light golden color on them. Add wine (scraping up any bits that have stuck to the pot) and cook it until it reduced by three-fourths. Add beans, broth, tomatoes, a few pinches of salt, freshly ground black pepper, thyme and bay leaf and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer for 20 minutes. Add chard and cook for 5 minutes more. Remove thyme and bay leaf. Add more broth if you’d like a thinner stew and adjust salt and pepper to taste.

Serve as is drizzled with sherry vinegar. Or you can ladle the stew over thick piece of toasted country bread or baguette that has been rubbed lightly with half a clove of garlic, top that with a poached egg and a few drops of sherry vinegar and/or some grated cheese.

Arroz Con Pollo (Cuban Chicken with Rice)
Adapted from Gourmet Magazine

The only think I’d change next time is to add much more kick to this recipe. I’d swap the regular paprika with the spicy stuff, and add quite a bit more. In addition, I might finely dice some green pepper on top, instead of the pimentos or red pepper strips. I think it might be a prettier, more texture-contrasted garnish. Oh, and I would skimp and only make a half-recipe, as I was actually sad when we ran out of this.

Serves 8

Chicken
3 large garlic cloves
2 tablespoons distilled white vinegar
2 teaspoons dried oregano, crumbled
4 chicken breast halves with bone, halved crosswise
4 chicken drumsticks
4 chicken thighs

Rice
3 ounces Spanish chorizo (cured sausage), skin discarded and sausage cut into 1/4-inch-thick slices
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 medium onions, chopped
1 green bell pepper, chopped
3 large garlic cloves, chopped
2 teaspoons ground cumin
2 teaspoons dried oregano
1 1/2 teaspoons paprika, preferably the hot stuff, plus more to taste
2 Turkish bay leaves or 1 California
1 lb. tomatoes, seeded and chopped
1 12-ounce. bottle beer (not dark)
1 1/2 cups reduced-sodium chicken broth
2 cups long-grain white rice (14 ounces)
1/4 cup drained rinsed bottled pimiento or roasted red pepper strips

Marinate chicken: Mince and mash garlic to a paste with 2 teaspoons salt, then transfer to a large bowl. Stir in vinegar and oregano.

Remove skin and excess fat from chicken, then toss chicken with marinade until coated and marinate, covered and chilled, at least 1 hour.

Cook chicken and rice: – Cook chorizo in olive oil in a 6- to 7-quart heavy pot (12 inches wide) over medium-high heat, stirring, until some fat is rendered, 2 to 3 minutes. Add onions, bell pepper, and garlic and cook, stirring until softened, about 5 minutes.

Add cumin, oregano, paprika, 1 1/4 teaspoons salt, and bay leaves and cook, stirring, 1 minute.

Add chicken with marinade to chorizo mixture and cook, uncovered, over medium heat, stirring frequently, 10 minutes.

Stir in tomatoes, beer, broth, and rice and bring to a boil, making sure rice is submerged. [Deb note: I actually had a really hard time keeping the rice underneaththe chicken so that it would cook evenly. I’d suggest that you use tongs to temporarily remove the chicken from the pot, mix the rice in with the other ingredients in the pot, and then replace the chicken, pressing it into the broth a bit before going onto the next step. I will definitely do this next time.]

Reduce heat to medium-low, then cover mixture directly with a round of parchment or wax paper and cover pot with a tight fitting lid. Cook, stirring once or twice, until rice is tender, 20 to 30 minutes.

Remove from heat and let stand, covered, 5 minutes. Discard parchment paper and bay leaves, then scatter pimiento strips over rice.

Do ahead: Chicken can be marinated up to 2 hours in advance.

draining pasta, asparagus

One year ago: Mushroom Strudel
Two years ago: Homemade Oreos

Asparagus, Goat Cheese and Lemon Pasta
Adapted from Bon Appetit

As it turns out, goat cheese makes a really great quick, creamy pasta sauce. And whether you blanche your pasta with asparagus or you swap in fava beans or string beans or seriously, you name it, this comes together so quickly that I forgave it for not winning any beauty contests.

Serves 6

1 pound spiral-shaped pasta
1 pound slender asparagus spears, trimmed, cut into 1- to 1 1/2-inch pieces
1/4 cup olive oil
1 tablespoon finely grated lemon peel
2 teaspoons chopped fresh tarragon plus more for garnish
1 5- to 5 1/2-ounce log soft fresh goat cheese (the pre-crumbled stuff will not melt as well)
Fresh lemon juice to taste (optional)

Cook your pasta in a large pot of well-salted water until it is almost tender, or about three minutes shy of what the package suggests. Add asparagus and cook until firm-tender, another two to three minutes. Drain both pasta and asparagus together, reserving one cup of pasta water.

Meanwhile, combine olive oil, lemon peel, tarragon and cheese in a large bowl, breaking up the goat cheese as you put it in. Add hot pasta and asparagus to bowl, along with a couple slashes of the pasta water. Toss until smoothly combined, adding more pasta water if needed. Season genersously with salt and pepper, and lemon juice if you feel it needs a little extra kick. (We did.)

Next Dinner Party Menu?

(from Smitten Kitchen)

Broccoli Parmesan Fritters

There’s a lot of broccoli and very little pancake in this fritter. The broccoli is not grated or pureed, but left in small, recognizable bits that are bound lightly, faintly, to their batter of egg, parmesan and flour. And when you cook them right — that is, to a crisp, in a preheated, heavy, oil-slicked skillet — they get a fantastic crisp edge to them, like they were coated in frico. I imagine that if you were to roll the pancake in additional parmesan, it would get extra frico, though I haven’t tried it yet. Also, I’d like someone to start a band called Extra Frico.

To serve: I like these with a dollop of the garlicky lemon yogurt I share here, roughly 1 cup plain yogurt, 2 tablespoons lemon juice, 1 tiny minced clove of garlic, a bit of zest and salt. It would also be good with this homemade ricotta, with or without additional lemon juice. They’re also good simply, with just a squeeze of lemon juice. I think I’d also enjoy them with a little crumbled feta on top. Oh, and of course, you can put a runny fried egg on top of it. But I don’t need to tell you that.

Yield: 9 (because my recipes never want to grace us with neat, well-rounded numbers) 2 to 2 1/2-inch fritters

8 ounces (1 small-to-medium bundle, 225 grams) fresh broccoli (3 cups chopped)
1 large egg
1/2 cup (65 grams) all-purpose flour
1/3 cup (30 grams) finely grated parmesan cheese
1 small clove garlic, minced
1/2 teaspoon Kosher salt, plus more to taste
A pinch of red pepper flakes or several grinds of black pepper
Olive or vegetable oil for frying

Prepare your broccoli: Separate the florets from the biggest stem(s). Cut the florets into 1-inch chunks. To prepare the stems, I like to peel them, as the skin can be thick and doesn’t cook quickly, then slice them into 1/2-inch lengths. You should have about 3 cups of chopped broccoli total.

Steam your broccoli until tender but not mushy: Use whatever method you prefer. My quickie, lazy method is to bring a 1/2-inch or so of water to a boil in a small saucepan, then add the broccoli, place a lid on it and simmer it for 5 to 6 minutes. Drain the broccoli, then set it aside to cool slightly.

In the bottom of a large bowl, lightly beat your egg. Add the flour, cheese, garlic, salt and pepper. Then, add the somewhat cooled broccoli and, using a potato masher, mash the broccoli just a bit. You’re looking to keep the bits recognizable, but small enough (1/4- to 1/2-inch chunks) that you can press a mound of the batter into a fritter in the pan. Once mashed a bit, stir or fold the ingredients together the rest of the way with a spoon. Adjust seasonings to taste.

Heat a large, heavy skillet over moderate heat. Once hot, add a good slick of oil (I usually use a mix of olive and vegetable oil), about 2 to 3 tablespoons. Once the oil is hot (you can test it by flicking a droplet of water into it; it should hiss and sputter), scoop a two tablespoon-size mound of the batter and drop it into the pan, then flatten it slightly with your spoon or spatula. Repeat with additional batter, leaving a couple inches between each. Once brown underneath, about 2 to 3 minutes, flip each fritter and cook on the other side until equally golden, about another 1 to 2 minutes.

Transfer briefly to paper towels to drain, then to a serving plate if you’ll be eating them shortly or a baking sheet in a 200 degree oven if you’d like to keep them warm for a while until needed. Repeat with remaining batter, adding more oil as needed. Serve with some of the suggestions listed in the head notes, above.

Bacon, Egg and Leek Risotto

I mentioned that the recipe was inspired by an article but I’d prefer not link to it because, while I’m sure the restaurant that serves it does so splendidly, the recipe as written was a mess of bad cooking times and impossible ingredient levels. Essentially, I’d rather talk about it only behind it’s back. I rewrote it and tweaked the ingredients a little too. The idea was wonderful; this execution should work for everyone.

Yield: Six small or four large servings

6 cups low-sodium chicken stock or vegetable broth, but best to have an extra splash or two around if needed
1 cup (4 ounces) finely chopped bacon (from about 4 slices) or pancetta
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 large or 3 smaller leeks, quartered lengthwise, cleaned of grit, and chopped small
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, plus more to fry eggs
1/2 small onion, finely chopped
2 cups arborio, carnaroli, or another short-grained Italian rice
1/3 cup dry white wine or vermouth (read why here)
1 cup finely grated fresh Parmesan cheese, plus extra for garnish if desired
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 to 6 large eggs, you’ll want one per serving

Place stock or broth in a small-medium saucepan over very low heat on a back burner. You want to have it heated until steamy when you add it in a bit, but not so much that it simmers and loses volume.

Heat a second medium saucepan (3 quarts) or skillet over medium heat. Add bacon or pancetta and cook until it renders its fat, and is tender and just barely crisp. Remove with a slotted spoon to a bowl and set aside, leaving whatever dripping you can in the pan. Add a tablespoon of oil to the bacon fat if needed, then add the leeks. Cook leeks on medium-low for 10 to 12 minutes, until softened and mostly tender. Transfer to bowl with bacon and set aside, leaving stove on.

Add butter to pan and, once melted, cook onion in butter until translucent and tender, about 5 minutes. Add rice and cook sauté until faintly toasted, about 4 minutes. Add wine or vermouth and cook until it almost disappears, about 2 minutes. Ladle 1 cup of hot broth into the rice mixture and simmer until it absorbs, stirring frequently. Add remaining broth 1/2 cup at a time, allowing broth to be absorbed before adding more and stirring frequently until rice is al dente, about 25 to 30 minutes. What you’re looking for in well-cooked risotto is a creamy but loose dish. When ladled onto a plate, it should spill into a creamy puddle, not heap in a mound. You might need an extra splash of broth to loosen it. When you achieve your desired texture and tenderness, stir in the cheese, bacon and leeks. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Ladle into serving bowls.

Then, quickly, in a small skillet, heat a pat of butter over medium-high and swirl it to coat the pan. Crack one egg into the skillet, season with salt and pepper and reduce heat to medium. I like to cover the skillet with a small lid at this point, as it seems to help the egg cook faster and more evenly. In one minute, you should have a perfect sunny-side-up egg. Transfer to your first bowl of risotto and repeat with remaining eggs. Garnish each with an extra bit of grated parmesan and eat immediately.

Ratatouille’s Ratatouille
As envisioned by Smitten Kitchen

1/2 onion, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, very thinly sliced
1 cup tomato puree (such as Pomi)
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 small eggplant (my store sells these “Italian Eggplant” that are less than half the size of regular ones; it worked perfectly)
1 smallish zucchini
1 smallish yellow squash
1 longish red bell pepper
Few sprigs fresh thyme
Salt and pepper
Few tablespoons soft goat cheese, for serving

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.

Pour tomato puree into bottom of an oval baking dish, approximately 10 inches across the long way. Drop the sliced garlic cloves and chopped onion into the sauce, stir in one tablespoon of the olive oil and season the sauce generously with salt and pepper.

Trim the ends off the eggplant, zucchini and yellow squash. As carefully as you can, trim the ends off the red pepper and remove the core, leaving the edges intact, like a tube.

On a mandoline, adjustable-blade slicer or with a very sharp knife, cut the eggplant, zucchini, yellow squash and red pepper into very thin slices, approximately 1/16-inch thick.

Atop the tomato sauce, arrange slices of prepared vegetables concentrically from the outer edge to the inside of the baking dish, overlapping so just a smidgen of each flat surface is visible, alternating vegetables. You may have a handful leftover that do not fit.

Drizzle the remaining tablespoon olive oil over the vegetables and season them generously with salt and pepper. Remove the leaves from the thyme sprigs with your fingertips, running them down the stem. Sprinkle the fresh thyme over the dish.

Cover dish with a piece of parchment paper cut to fit inside. (Tricky, I know, but the hardest thing about this.)

Bake for approximately 45 to 55 minutes, until vegetables have released their liquid and are clearly cooked, but with some structure left so they are not totally limp. They should not be brown at the edges, and you should see that the tomato sauce is bubbling up around them.

Serve with a dab of soft goat cheese on top, alone, or with some crusty French bread, atop polenta, couscous, or your choice of grain.

Nectarine and Mascarpone Tart in a Gingernsap Crust

I’m also already envisioning alternative versions of this with chocolate wafer cookie crusts and strawberries or even graham crackers and mixed berries, or whatever you have on hand. I don’t think you could make this taste anything less than abundantly delicious.

You’ll want to make this a few hours before you want to serve it, or the night before.

Crust
37 gingersnap cookies, coarsely broken (about 9 ounces; about 3 1/4 cups plus 2 tablespoons of pieces)
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

Filling
1 8-ounce container mascarpone cheese
6 ounces cream cheese, room temperature
1/4 cup sour cream
1/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon grated lemon peel
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 tablespoon finely chopped crystallized ginger (optional)

Topping
4 to 5 small nectarines, halved, pitted, cut into thin slices
1/4 cup peach jam, warmed
2 tablespoons finely chopped crystallized ginger (optional)

For crust: Preheat oven to 350°F. Finely grind gingersnaps in processor. Add butter and blend until crumbs are evenly moistened. Press mixture over bottom and up sides of 9-inch-diameter tart pan with removable bottom. (I like to use a cold metal measuring cup to get a nice, clear demarcation between the base and sides.) Bake crust until color darkens, pressing sides with back of spoon if beginning to slide, about 8 minutes. Cool completely.

For filling: Beat first 6 ingredients in medium bowl until smooth. Beat in crystallized ginger if you’re using it. Spread filling in prepared crust. Cover loosely and refrigerate at least 2 hours and up to 1 day.

For topping: Overlap nectarine slices atop filling in concentric circles. Brush with jam. Sprinkle with chopped crystallized ginger if you’re using it. (Mint makes an excellent garnish, if you’re skipping the ginger.) Serve, or refrigerate up to 6 hours.