Htipiti Spread

Pronounced “chee-tee-pee-tee,” it’s Greek and oh so delicious. Also known as “tyrokafteri,” it is a spread made with red peppers—either sweet or hot—mixed with crumbled feta. There’s no mayonnaise or sour cream in this recipe. With a vegetable base, it’s a much healthier option. 

Dip pita bread, crackers, or crudité. Use it on a sandwich as a condiment. Pair it with meats like lamb or chicken. It’s quick and easy to pull together and a nice change from the usual dips and dressings.

Here’s the recipe:

4 bell peppers 
1/4 c. + 1 TB olive oil
1/2 medium shallot
1 garlic clove, minced
3 TB red wine vinegar
1 c. crumbled feta
4 tsp. fresh thyme
Kosher salt and pepper to taste

Roast peppers. Cool and then finely chop. Whisk garlic, shallot, vinegar, and pepper. Add the feta with salt and pepper. Cover and chill. Drizzle olive oil on top before serving.

*Note: for a smoother consistency, run ingredients through a food processor. Or, if you prefer, you can leave the recipe a little chunkier depending on how you want to use it.

Pork Chops in a Creamy Mushroom Sauce

Pork. The other white meat. While that’s a true statement, it also presents the same blessings and curses of the first white meat. Just like chicken, pork can be versatile but also feel like the same old, same old when looking for dinner options. 

My go-to recipes for pork usually involve some sort of homemade Carolina barbecue sauce for a shoulder, grainy mustard sauce for a tenderloin, and stuffing it with just about anything for a thick chop. I came across a couple of different recipes with the same idea for chops that I hadn’t thought of: make a cream sauce without the cream. 

In this recipe, the creaminess comes from making a roux of butter and flour. Deglaze with chicken broth and add a teaspoon of Dijon mustard. Adding the sliced mushrooms with a little garlic rounds it out. But you could easily improvise with shallots and a little thyme, parsley, or oregano as well. 

The paprika in the recipe called for dusting it on the chop before browning it in the pan. I found it a little difficult to tell if the chop was properly seared or that was just the seasoning. So here, I call for you to use it in the sauce rather than on the meat. 

Here’s the recipe:

2 lbs. boneless pork chops
2 TB butter
1 TB olive oil
1/2 c. mushrooms, sliced
4 cloves of garlic, minced
1 tsp Dijon mustard
2 TB all-purpose flour
1 c. chicken broth
1 tsp. paprika
Salt and pepper to taste

Generously salt and pepper the chops. Place skillet over heat on medium-high and add the butter and olive oil. Once butter becomes melted and foamy, add the chops. Brown on both sides, about 4-5 minutes or less if they are not as thick a chop. Set aside. Turn heat down a little to medium. Add mushrooms and cook down. Add the garlic, paprika, and Dijon. When garlic is fragrant, add the flour and whisk into a roux. Gradually pour in the broth to make a sauce. Stir until thickened a bit by the heat and then add the pork chops to further cook. Serve immediately.

Bundt Cake

Fancy. A word that best fits the Bundt cake. It’s the kind of thing you take to someone’s house as a dessert for a dinner party, a housewarming, or frankly just to impress. Baked in its distinctively shaped pan, there is no single recipe to follow. There are lemon Bundt cakes and strawberry swirl ones. Chocolate. Devil’s food. Apple. Pineapple coconut. Marbled, even.

Oh, and don’t forget the icing. That’s the best part. The long legs of white icing made from copious amounts of powdered sugar drizzled on top gives it just the right pizzazz. Sure, you’d eat it without the icing. But, it wouldn’t look half as sexy.

Bundt cake has its history in northern Europe, particularly in the Jewish communities of Germany, Austria and Poland. But what makes it unique is the pan. Some molds are pretty straight forward while others can get pretty ornate. Either way, it’s a dessert that looks special.

While I love a good lemon Bundt cake with vanilla icing just like the next guy, I couldn’t resist making this recipe. It called for almond flour, which made it taste rich and dense yet still keeping the dough light. A slice of this felt more filling and substantial than one with only all-purpose flour. Because of its nut base, I almost felt like it was healthy. (Almost.)

Much like pound cake, Bundt cakes take well to a good alcohol soak. Rum. Cognac. Grand Marnier. Whiskey. You name it. A good boozy kick is a nice little surprise any day.

Here’s the recipe:

For the cake:
1 3/4 c. almond flour
1/2 c. all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
6 oz. unsalted butter, room temperature
1 c. granulate sugar
4 large eggs, room temperature
2 TB cognac, or liquor of your choice

Simple Syrup:
1/4 c. granulated sugar
1/4 c. water
1 TB cognac

Vanilla icing:
3 TB whole milk
1 tsp. vanilla
1 1/2 c. powdered sugar, sifted

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Grease a Bundt pan with butter and dust lightly with flour.

Whisk the two flours and salt together and set aside. Then in a separate bowl, mix butter on medium speed until creamy. Gradually add the sugar until incorporated. Add eggs one at a time mixing batter thoroughly.

Little by little, add the flour mixture with the speed mixer on medium-low. Make sure to scrape down the sides of the bowl so all of the flour is combined with the butter and sugar. Mix in the 2 TB of liquor. Pour batter into Bundt pan and tap on countertop to make sure its distributed evenly. Bake for 40-45 minutes, until a cake knife comes out clean.

While the cake bakes, combine the water and sugar in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil, stirring, until the sugar is dissolved. Remove from heat and stir in 1 TB liquor. Return to low heat and keep warm.

Once cake is ready, place on a wire rack to cool for about 10 minutes. Pour in about half of the liquor from the saucepan. Remove from pan and brush on the remaining syrup. Let cool completely for about an hour.

For the icing, whisk together milk and vanilla. In a separate bowl, place the powdered sugar and combine with the liquid until smooth.

Drizzle icing over cake and let it set, about 30 minutes. Can be served immediately or stored for up to 3 days.



Asparagus

This one single vegetable encapsulates everything that’s good about eating seasonal as much as it signifies our global economy. Once heralded as the harbinger of spring, we now get it year-round often imported from a greenhouse in Chile. Germans, however, celebrate the delicate stalks throughout the country only from mid-April to the end of June with their annual “Spargel Feste.”

On a trip to Baden-Baden last year, there was asparagus as far as the eye could see. Green, white, and purple piers standing at attention in every little farmer’s market. On one occasion, two women set up their tent outside the local grocer selling their carefully plucked asparagus. In my unbelievably halting German, I thanked them when they handed me a bag of stalks that had already been shaved of their woody ends.

Seasonal eating is like having a little food party. But when you have it year-round, finding ways to prepare it can be a little daunting. There are only so many times I can roast it, steam it, or top it with hollandaise. Although, a nice lemony shaved asparagus salad is a refreshing surprise. Have it two or three times and you want something else.

While a really simple recipe, I like coating it with lemon juice and olive oil with kosher salt and pepper. Toss grated parmesan on top and roast at 425 degrees for 8 minutes. Quick and easy side dish. It reminds me a bit of a recipe I saw credited to Sarah Michelle Gellar, who has apparently diverged from her Buffy-The-Vampire-slaying days to create an asparagus dish. She made Baked Asparagus Fries. Dredge in flour and then coat in a mixture of buttermilk and egg. Toss in panko crumbs with salt, pepper, garlic powder and parmesan. Bake at 450 for 15 minutes.


Eins, zwei, Super!

Carrot Cake

This is a dessert that I love only when it’s right in front of me. When I think of a sweet treat, it usually consists of something chocolatey. But when carrot cake is in the vicinity, I gravitate toward it with all its cinnamon-raisiny goodness on the inside and its ooey-gooey cream cheesiness on the outside.

According to The World Carrot Museum based in the U.K., early renditions of carrot cake date back to the Middle Ages when sweeteners were hard to come by. Carrots were used instead for their natural sugar content. (Not unlike using sweet potatoes in a pie for the same reason.) Often, carrots were baked into puddings and, in many cases, puddings were more solid like a cake in early versions. The pudding then graduated to actual cake batter. And the rest, as they say, is history.

The thing about carrot cake that I think makes it delectable is two-fold: cake and frosting. The cake should be more like a spice cake with carrots. Adding the cinnamon and raisins just lends itself to being a spice cake base. Some recipes call for nutmeg or ginger. If you felt like it, I’m sure you could add ground cloves or even a little cardamom. Some recipes add pineapple or banana. But it’s the addition of carrots—along with a good douse of vegetable oil—that ensures that you’ll get a moist batter.

So, when did it get a cream cheese frosting? Many historians seem to agree that it started in the U.S. in the 1960s. Why? Who knows why they did what they did in the 1960s…

Here’s a recipe for carrot cake cupcakes. I like the cupcake idea as sometimes an entire slice of cake with all that cream cheese frosting can be a little much. This makes it a little more bite-sized.



For the cake:

2 c. sugar
1 1/3 c. vegetable oil
1 tsp. vanilla extract
3 large eggs
2 c. flour
2 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. nutmeg
1/4 tsp. ginger
2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp kosher salt
2 c. grated carrots
1 c. golden raisins
1 c. chopped walnuts

For the frosting:

12 oz. cream cheese, room temperature
1 stick of butter, room temperature
1 tsp. vanilla extract
2 c. confectioner’s sugar

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.

Beat the sugar, oil, and vanilla together. Add the eggs. Set aside. In a separate bowl, combine all the dry ingredients, sifting the flour. With a mixer, slowly add the dry ingredients to the wet. Once combined, add the carrots, raisins, and walnuts until completely incorporated.

Line two muffin tins with liners. Fill each liner 2/3 up. Bake for 10 minutes at 400, then drop down to 350 for the remaining 25-30 minutes. 

For the frosting, use a mixer to beat cheese, butter, and vanilla until smooth. Then add the sugar and blend thoroughly. Frost cupcakes generously when cool.

Makes 24 cupcakes.


Bacon, Egg, and Cheese

Courtesy of Just A Taste
Why is this a sandwich I crave? It’s fat. It’s carbs. It’s dairy. It’s ooey-gooey in all the right places. And when I was in college, the best drunk food ever. It just hits the spot.

And yet, aside from its simple ingredients, a Bacon, Egg, and Cheese, or BEC, has a wide variety of toppings. Tomato. Avocado. Hash browns. Sausage--as if bacon wasn’t enough. Even the bread is inconsistent: English muffin, buttermilk biscuit, multigrain toast, croissant, or bagel.

A luscious sandwich and easy to make, it can be totally screwed up. First off, don’t burn anything. (That should pretty much be a rule of thumb no matter what you’re doing. Duh.) The bread should be golden and toasty. Once it gets beyond that point—Congratulations, you’ve ruined your canvas. The bacon should be browned with a little crunch and a little chew at the same time. For the cheese, I happen to like American because it melts better. Sliced cheddar is fine, too, as is any other kind of sliced cheese you prefer. If the cheese is too hard, however, you’re not getting the gooey factor.

Now, the egg. I’ve seen poached and I’ve even seen scrambled. But the fried, sunny side up egg is the best choice as far as I’m concerned. It gives you that runny yolk without overdoing it and it has the solid white that you don’t get when everything is scrambled together. Spread a little butter on both pieces of toast or a little bit of ketchup, if you like, and enjoy!

Do I really need to give you a recipe for this one? Pretty sure you can handle it on your own…