A Chicken In Every Granny Cart

Editor’s Note: Finally! It’s Friday. Tomorrow we move the rest of the crap out of the old apartment, the new couch will (hopefully) arrive and then on Sunday, the grunt men come in to get the furniture out of Manhattan and moved to the borough of Kings. All of my kitchen stuff has been there since last weekend. We’ve been eating a lot of sandwiches this week.

Naturally all I can think about this week is cooking. And so, since there’s nothing really exciting to share except this wonderful recipe (one of my first!), I figured I’d share some of the recipes I’ve been hoarding in anticipation of a big, shiny new kitchen.

Chicken Bouillabaisse: Sher published this recipe right around the time my parents got back from Spain. My mom brought me back a tin of precious saffron and I immediately pinpointed this recipe as the proper way to use it. It’s at the top of my list for possible first weekend meals.

Celery Root Soup With Top Shelf Beet Relish: I had this way back in balmy November at the incredibly awesome Pickle Party and have been dreaming about making it ever since. The creamy comforting soup garnished with the puckeringly perfect garnish would make awesome leftovers for one of those nights where I won’t get home until 9pm because of my stupid job and my new commute.

Madame Hermé’s Spaetzle: I know there’s a lot of Pierre Hermé fans out there. I’ve never been to Paris and I’ve never tried his pastries, although I do think they’re beautiful and I would love to try them. But I don’t sit up dreaming about them. What do I dream about then? His mother’s spätzle. Though it doesn’t differ that much from my Aunt’s, the addition of semolina is truly intriguing. And there’s so many sausage-makers (sausagiers?) in the new ‘hood that would go so well with a steaming bowl of spätzle.

Savory Haddock Korma: I have no idea if this recipe from Ulla is traditionally Icelandic or traditionally Indian or simply traditionally New Yorkian, but it sounds delicious. I usually don’t go in for fish curries, but this one with its combination of creamy dairy, bright citrus and subtle, comforting cardamom sounds so pleasant.

Azerbaian Pilaf with Pomegranate Meatballs: Pomegranates will start disappearing from the groceries soon, and ever since a quick trip to Ikea last weekend, I’ve been craving meatballs. This recipe from Lindy would make a nice, homemade stand-in for their frozen (but delicious!) Swedish variety.

Green Olive Gnocchi With Green Olive Sauce: God I love making gnocchi, and boy do I love olives too, but I only make gnocchi when I’m in a big kitchen. The mess-factor is way too high for a wee bitty space. So I’m really looking forward to delving back into the world of fluffy pasta-dumplings as soon as possible and this is the one I want to try first!

Risotto Ai Pompelmo: Lydia always knocks my socks off with crazy creative recipes for the goodies in her pantry, and this one was a real shock; Grapefruit Risotto? Get out! So awesome! So perfect for all the gorgeous citrus hanging out at the corner bodega! What a way to bring some sunny summer sunshine into these grey winter days. Fab!

Flo Fab’s Wheat And Cornmeal Cheese Rolls: The only thing that could make these sound more appealing is if there was bacon in this recipe to boot. Let’s see; there’s melty cheese, sage and maple syrup, and since they’re made with whole wheat flour, that means they’re healthy too! And now that I’ve overcome my fear of kneading, I can make these. Yay! Thanks Luisa!

And finally, is it possible to write a recipe wish list without including something from the uber recipe blogger Elise? I think not.

Puréed Roasted Parsnips: We love parsnips. We love roasted vegetables. We love purées. And somehow, neither of us ever thought to roast and then purée. Bloody genius. Seriously, cannot wait to try this!

Of course, I also really want to make my mushroom pasta recipe again as well. It really is a winner. So, check out these recipes, let me know if you’ve tried any, and I’ll “see” you all after the weekend!

Poker Widow Pasta. Originally published February 25th, 2006.

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Friday night when I found myself a poker widow I decided, rather than going out, I would stay in and make myself something decadent. I had been waiting all week to try some Porcini mushroom pasta I had found and taking inspiration from Mark Bittman’s foray into puttanesca I created this luscious, silky, tangy and downright sexy pasta dish.

Poker Widow Pasta

prep: 15 minutes ~ cooking time: 20 minutes

• Porcini Mushroom Pasta
• Olive Oil
• 6 cloves Garlic, sliced (but not too thin)
• 1 package Crimini Mushrooms, quartered
• 1 tbsp Capers
• 2/3 cup Dry Vermouth
• 1 tbsp Lemon Juice
• Chile Flakes to taste
• 10 Cherry Tomatoes, halved
• Salt & Pepper
• Very good Extra Virgin Olive Oil
• Hard Cheese (of your choosing)

N.B. ~ The timing on this meal is wholly dependent on how long your pasta needs to cook. The pasta I used only needed 4 minutes, but if yours needs longer, please start it earlier on in the sauce prep than noted here.

Place a large pot with salted water (for your pasta) over a flame and bring to a boil.

Place a small, heavy bottomed dutch oven over a very low flame. Add enough Olive Oil to coat the bottom about 1/4 inch. When the oil is a little warm, add the garlic and cook slowly, about 5 minutes, to infuse the oil with its flavor and aroma.

Add the mushrooms and mix to coat well with the garlic oil mixture. Turn the heat up a little, to about medium, really cook the mushrooms down. When they have reduced in size, taken on a little color and released their liquid, add capers. Turn the heat up again to about medium-high.

Add the Vermouth and the lemon juice and allow to reduce by about half. Season with salt, pepper and chile flakes to taste. Add the tomatoes and stir.

When the tomatoes start liquefying into the sauce, add your pasta to the water. Remember to keep stirring the sauce to keep it from burning and sticking to the bottom of your pan. When the pasta is done, turn off the flame under the sauce, it will most likely keep bubbling away for a few minutes.

Drain your pasta. Portion into bowls. Top with a nice glug of your very best extra virgin olive oil and your grated hard cheese of choice. Mix it all together and dig in! This is a truly delicious, earthy, sexy meal!

Enjoy!

Editor’s Note: Yep, we’re still taking a trip in the time machine and looking back at recipes from the early days of The Granny Cart. Sher wanted to know how the move’s going. Sher: slowly. Ugh, so tiring, both physically and mentally.

We took a break between trips on Saturday and found an amazing, local Polish restaurant, Polonica, who’s clear borscht always has mushroom uszka, and might possibly be better than either Veselka’s or Polonia’s. I think 2007 is going to be the year The Great De-Beet goes Borough v. Borough, and Blogger v. Blogger!

The other reason to go to Polonica? The salads. Usually at most of these Polish restaurants you have to choose one or two salads to go with your entree. Say, Bigos with Red Cabbage and Beet Salads. Or Suffed Cabbage with Sauerkraut and Carrot Salads. But at Polonica? No choosing. You get ALL of them. Yep, all. And the best part? Every single one of them is fantastic.

So, even though the move continues to be a long slog, we’re eating our way through it. By this time next week, it’ll all be over. I cannot wait for next Tuesday!

Meat And Potatoes. Originally published March 7, 2006.

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In Sunday’s New York Times, Julie Powell asks, are Americans ready for Nigel Slater? And I say to her, “Honey, I’ve been ready for him for years!” She calls him “a yuppie hooligan”. Maybe he is, but that’s never how I imagined him.

Who is Nigel Slater then? To me, he’s the thinking woman’s Naked Chef, he’s the slightly more grizzled (and male) Nigella Lawson. He’s the guy constantly sitting on my shoulder while I’m cooking, saying, “calm down, it’s just cooking!”

I’ve never seen his shows, and I really don’t know anything about him that I didn’t learn from the only book of his I own, Appetite, but I love what he says in it.

This is the ultimate first cookbook. He talks about how to build a kitchen, how to stock a pantry, and how to cook for only you, or a party of 50. His recipes are barely recipes; they’re more like guidelines, a list of things to put together, and then yeah, you go ahead and riff on that. It’s an approach I not only appreciate, but also whole heartedly endorse.

So, in honor of Nigel’s shout-out in the Gray Lady, I cobbled together an entrèe from one of his recipes entitled “A Pork Roast”. The recipe is supposed to be made with fresh pork belly with the skin on. Now, I know I live in one of the most foodie friendly cities in the world, and I consider myself a pretty savvy food shopper, but I had A) no idea where to get pork belly, and B) truly no desire to tackle this cut of meat myself. This is why god invented Alias and Uovo.

I also chose to “follow” his advice and use his garlic and rosemary variation. Oh, and I decided to braise the pork, rather than roast it, and to use a loin instead of a belly, and to braise in verjus rather than white wine, but hey, this is a Nigel recipe, which means, as long as it tastes good in the end, then all is well!

I served the pork with what can only be fairly called Chartreuse Mash. It was a goaty riff on Smashed Potatoes And Peas from this months Gourmet. I couldn’t figure out why there was no picture of this slightly flawed recipe, and now that you’ve see mine you’ll understand why… this is one ugly dish, but oh. my. god. is it GOOD. Make it, now. You’ll thank me for it!

Head below the break for the detailed recipes.

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Editor’s Note: Greetings all! The big move is underway, and the eating hasn’t been pretty (meaning, there’s no way I’m going to share some of the bizarre food we’ve been eating in an effort to clean up fridge and pantry), so I’ve decided to dig way, waaay into the back of The Granny Cart pantry and resurrect some old, seasonal posts from the early days.

Here, we have my attempt at recreating my Aunt’s amazing spätzle. A take-home container of these delicious German dumplings was hands down my favorite Christmas gift this year. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

Sausages And Sparrows. Originally posted March 27, 2006.

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My aunt will be so proud. She will also be relieved… I taught myself how to make spätzle yesterday.

My aunt, the daughter of German immigrants, has been making her brand of spätzle for family gatherings for longer than I can remember. In the weeks leading up to, say, Easter, I’ll call my mother, “Are we going to Syracuse? Is Aunt L going to be making spätzle??” over, and over and over, even now that I’m old enough that I really should know better.

Aunt L’s spätzle are different than any other I’ve tried at any German or Austrian restaurant anywhere in the world. Hers are much thicker, closer to a dumpling and less a little sparrow (and no, I don’t mean this kind of sparrow) and more like a gorgeous, fat goose. Also, as a bow to my family’s obsession with garlic, she browns them off in oil and garlic until they’re golden and crispy. To me, they are the picture of culinary perfection. I truly believe I could eat her spätzle every day for the rest of my life.

For my first attempt, I think my spätzle turned out pretty well. Mine were smaller, but they had the same chewy, toothsome feeling as my aunts. When I make them again (and I will make them again!) I will use fewer eggs, maybe 2 whole eggs and 2 yolks, plus more milk and even a little more flour. Then again, maybe I’ll hold off until Easter, when I’ll badger Aunt L into making hers for me again, you know, as research…

I served my spätzle with kielbasa (we’re a melting pot of Eastern European culinary traditions my family is…) and sauerkraut all braised with caramelized onions and dry vermouth. The kielbasa was much different than what I’m used to. I was inspired to try some local sausage from the East Village institution, Kurowycky Meat Market, which was unfortunate, because well, to be frank (heh), I didn’t like their kovbasa at all. It was nicely spiced and full of large chunks of meat but had a strange, gamey smell/flavor that I just couldn’t get past. I’m a little sad really. I thought maybe, finally, I’d find a more convenient local source for my kielbasa fix, but alas, I’ll have to keep making that trip to Eagle Provisions in Brooklyn. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.

Recipes for both dishes below the break.

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On Saturday, we made soup.

It was a typical New York soup, made of ingredients gathered from the groceries of various ethnicities. It was faintly Asian in theme, but would not be immediately recognizable as Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese or Filipino. It was, like the City, a melting pot soup.

I know that some of you out there are New Yorkers, but I also know that many of you are not, so I’m going to offer three pieces of unsolicited advice, in case any of you ever find yourselves roaming our fair streets. There is a point to this, so please, bear with me.

First, and possibly the most obvious given the nature of the words you’re reading; New Yorkers love to talk about food. Should you ever find yourself stuck in a boring meeting, snowed in at Laguardia or alone at a bar, ask the nearest group of people who makes the best pizza, burger, banh mi or borscht. You’ll learn about parts of the City you’ve never heard of before, you’ll watch people swear to never talk to their best friends ever again because of their allegiance to Singas rather than L&B Spumoni Gardens (it’s a Queens v. Brooklyn thing), and if you take careful notes you’ll get some very valuable and tasty advice!

Second, if ever you’re stuck here, alone for a long time, and lonely, and really want to get to know some people fast, ask them for directions to an obscure location. Say you’re in a bar and haven’t talked to anyone in days but the obnoxious person with whom you’re sharing a cubicle at the home office in the ginormous ugly box smack in the center of Times Square and you’re dying to just have a normal conversation that doesn’t relate to the location of your cube-mate’s red Swingline stapler.

Here’s how to do it.

Wait for a lull in the conversation of a group of people and then gently say to the group in general, “Excuse me, but I’m here for work for a few days, and I’m wondering if you guys could help me get to, Wave Hill.” Everyone will be thrown off, but then one person, having wracked her brains will be able to remember something about it, will then try and explain, will be laughed at by her friends, will have her suspicions confirmed by you that, yes, indeed, Wave Hill is a botanical gardens of a sort way up in the Bronx, and then let the fireworks begin! The Brits have weather, New Yorkers have the MTA.

Lastly, and this one is slightly more dangerous, real estate. Some New Yorkers love to compare how many square feet you get for a month’s rent in Denver or Boston or Seattle and some don’t. A nice convivial chat can turn ugly very fast and in the blink of an eye when a New Yorker perceives that you’re arguing a wee bit too vigorously for why Ottoumwa, Iowa is the best place on earth. It’s not, New York is, and it doesn’t matter that you get a 100 acre farm for $1,000/month, you don’t live in Manhattan and that’s that. See how quickly that went pear shaped?

Well, sometimes it can happen between New Yorkers, too, when we’re discussing the merits of Manhattan vs. Brooklyn vs. Queens vs. Staten Island vs. The Bronx. Hackles rise, tempers flare and feelings get hurt.

And so, dear readers (I feel like Molly or Luisa saying that), I’m here to possibly piss some of you off. Before this goes any further, I have an announcement to make, and I hope you’ll still love me in the morning…

The Granny Cart is moving to Brooklyn.

Yep, Brooklyn. And not just any part of Brooklyn, but the setting for Saturday Night Fever, the starting point of the Marathon, the neighborhood previously known as Yellow Hook, Bay Ridge.

After two year of living together in this one teeny apartment, and one year of blogging from here, the boy and I have decided that we need a change. We’re a little bored of the neighborhood, I’m really tired of not being able to invite people over for dinner, and we both agree we need S P A C E, so we agonized and thought and walked and discussed and finally we’ve settled on a magical space in the borough of Kings.

So, I hope you’ll join me for new culinary adventures once we’re finally settled into our new home. We’ll be within walking distance of Brooklyn’s Chinatown and a large Mexican and Latin American enclave, and very close to the most engrossing display of ethnic eats I’ve seen on one street in my life, 3rd Avenue.

In the meantime, we’ll be cooking some pretty zany stuff in an attempt to clean out the fridge, freezer and pantry (Sunday night was scallop and whole wheat gnocchi marinara!). So I hope you’ll all forgive me for losing the crux of my schtick… the tiny kitchen, but I promise, I’ll come up with something new (and I’ll even change my about page accordingly).

And as to that soup? Easier than making apple pie.

Infuse some chicken stock with lemongrass, garlic, Chinese Leeks, ginger, chili peppers and thinly sliced onions for an hour or so. Bulk up the flavor with some lemon juice, fish sauce, thick soy sauce, rice vinegar and a healthy splash of vermouth.

Toss in some baby bok choy, enoki mushrooms, firm silken tofu and edamame.

Clamp the lid on and in a seperate pot cook some Curry Japanese Noodles from Trader Joe’s (kinda like curry-flavored somen). When the noodles are cooked portion them into bowls and then spoon the soup on top.

Garnish with more fish sauce if not salty enough, togarashi if not spicy enough and a squeeze of fresh lime if not tart enough.

Slurp and enjoy!

After my marathon with The Madame, I needed a break. And so on the first day of 2007, I lazed, loafed and lolled.

Ever since the boy and I met, we’ve had a New Year’s Day tradition of walking up the Hudson River Park from Soho to the Meatpacking District and then down into the Village for fish & chips. But this year, it was cold, drizzly and very, very gray. It was a comfortable day, a day to keep oneself close to home.

And so, rather than walking through the rain, we decided to saunter over to ‘inoteca (writing about farro had given me a craving). I think I actually managed to have a different panini (the one with soppressatta, highly recommended).

It seemed wrong not to walk, even just a little bit, so we headed over to Tompkins Square. It was so quiet, and empty and really, to be honest, romantic, that it felt like some beautiful, secret Parisian park that no one else in the world knows about.

No junkies, no dirty hippies, no yuppies with their double-wide bugaboos, just us and the rain. Peaceful.

But the rain began to intensify, and so we turned towards home, where I proceeded to lounge, laze, loaf and loll reading my new guilty pleasure while the boy made soup. This should be an heirloom·modern recipe, but as I didn’t make it, I can’t honestly be sure as to the recipe. It was adapted from Recipe 8 of Polish Cookery, Sauerkraut Soup, and featured a very large, prehistoric-looking ham hock that was an impulse purchase (who impulse purchases ham hocks?) and the leftover ham and bacon from The Madame’s Sauce.

The meat on the ham hock was so insanely delicious by the end of the soup’s cooking time, that we decided to save it rather than to shred it and add it to the soup. However, no Polish soup is ever done until there’s pork in it, so we added the rest of the cured, unsmoked ham that provided The Madame’s Sauce with its Essence Of Pork at the very end.

And what did we do with the ham hock? Sandwiches of course!

But then there was leftover sauerkraut. So what did we do with the kraut? Soup of course!

Just a version of The Eldress’ Tomato Bisque with a little extra sugar to offset the sourness of the leftover kraut which I tossed in at the end to heat through, just before adding the milk. The milk curdled ever so slightly from the acids in the soup, but it was fine really and didn’t effect the flavor at all (in fact, it reminded me of The Designer’s Cold Tomato Soup where the milk was intentionally curdled).

And so, the circle of soup comes full circle. It was a wonderful way to start 2007. I hope everyone who reads this gets at least one day this year that’s as full of peace and laziness.

La Bonne Cuisine de Madame E. Saint-Ange probably shouldn’t qualify for an heirloom·modern as it was published in 2005, but, since it is a translation of a book originally published in 1927 and I’m my own editor, I give myself a bye on this one.

This book came out at about the same time as The Silver Spoon two Christmases ago and I bought them both for myself with my pitiful year-end bonus because, well, no one else did. While in spirit the two books are similar, translations of tomes that in their respective countries; France and Italy, are as essential to any home cook as The Joy Of Cooking is here in America. But, that’s pretty much where the similarities end.

The Silver Spoon is concise and clearly written, full of pretty pictures and easy to asses ingredient lists. And La Bonne Cuisine? Yeah, not so much. With every nit-picky direction and convoluted, circuitous explanation, it becomes abundantly clear to me why some male French chefs are less than enthusiastic about having women in the kitchen… They fear they’ll all be like The Madame. She’s a bossy, know-it-all, pain in the arse perfectionist that makes Gordon Ramsey look like a trained goldfish.

And this is the woman I turned to for my contribution to a joint-effort New Year’s Eve feast.

In fact, it’s because of her bossiness and perfectionism that there’s no pictures of the most splendid, gorgeous and unapologetically perfect sauce I’ve ever made; Sauce Périgueux, aka Brown Sauce with Essence of Pork and Black Truffle.

Sounds a lot better in The Madame’s native tongue, non?

I had to transport the two halves of the sauce in Tupperware on the subway to Brooklyn and then assemble the sauce there, and to be honest, by the time it was done and we were ready to sit down to our roasted loin of venison accompanied by savory mushroom bread pudding and an intensely wonderful salad of greens, spicy candied pecans and pungent bleu cheese, I was too happy, hungry, and, well, drunk to give a rat’s ass about taking a picture!

So, you might be saying to yourself, Ann, why on earth would I ever buy this book and take this woman’s abuse? Because she’s right, she’ll make you look like a culinary star and where else are you going to find a recipe for Brain Beignets?

Head below the jump for heirloom·modern: The Madame’s Sauce Périgueux.

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Sunny, high of 70°F.

The forecast for San Francisco on a miracle day? No.

A perfect August day in London? No

Try January 6th, 2007 in New York City.

New York City?

Yeop. I told you we’re having an odd winter here!

It was nice, but flukey, a good day for a walk. A very long walk up in the Heights. A walk so long that I think I hurt myself and had to have a dose of delivery Mexican food administered stat!

Sunday was closer to normal and taken at a more leisurely pace, a pace that included Pompe à l’Huile, Provençal sweet olive oil bread. And get this, I had to knead it (I think that might be why it’s so ugly). The recipe came from the December issue of Saveur and is supposed to be made for Christmas.

Well, better late than never I say. This is a lovely, simple, addictively delicious loaf. The boy and I both agree that it has something in common with a scone, but with olive oil taking the place of butter. It went far better with a simple cuppa than with the Mediterranean stew I made to go with it (I didn’t think it was going to be quite as sweet as it is).

My loaf also didn’t knead very well, hence it’s lack of a nice, even glossy crust, and I think I know why. I ran out of AP flour and had to replace the last 3/4 cup with white whole wheat. I know, I know… All you real bakers out there are shaking your head in shame at me… But, but! At least I tried!!! And it still tasted good! Sometimes the best tomatoes are the ugliest! Why can’t it be so with bread as well?

I hope I’ve convinced you. It really is a delicious bread. And to make up for it, head below the jump for my utterly gorgeous Provençal Stew a la Ann.

You know the drill, head below for the recipes for Pompe à l’Huile and Provençal Stew a la Ann.

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Let’s see:

• Perfectly seared scallops? Check
• Perfectly creamy risotto? Check
• A plethora of scallops pulled from the waters off Long Island the day before populating this perfectly creamy risotto? Check

So, what could possibly be wrong with this dish?

It’s not orange.

Wha?

It’s not orange!

The whole point of this dish was that it was to be orange. Why? Allow me to explain.

Earlier in the week the boy and I had cleaned out our teeny tiny refrigerator, tossing some of the accumulated condiments that were slowly moldering at the back of the fridge, blocking all light from the feeble little bulb at the top from ever reaching the lower levels of the fridge. One jar that survived the cull was a half-eaten vat of hot Ajvar.

“What should we do with it?” he says.

“You know, I saw a recipe once for Shrimp and Ajvar,” I say.

“But you hate shrimp,” says the boy.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right, I hate shrimp. Maybe we can make something with scallops? Maybe a risotto! A bright orange risotto, with scallops in it! It’ll be so pretty!” I gush.

“Sounds good to me,” he nods.

So on Friday while we were out toddling about we sauntered through the Greenmarket at Union Sq. The fish people were there (not sure which ones) with the most perfectly perfect scallops. We jumped and bought a pound, half of them are now slumbering in the deep freeze, and hurried home. The next night, it was risotto time.

I put a big pan on a burner. Olive oil goes in, onions go in, garlic goes in, sautée, add rice, cook, add white wine, stir, stir stir, add water, stir, water, stir, water, stir, water, stir, stir, stir. Sear a few choice scallops for the heck of it (make sure they’re perfectly dry and your pan is searingly hot). Chop the rest of your scallops into bite size pieces. Turn off the flame under the risotto. Add the chopped scallops, stir. Get two bowls out, spoon risotto into bowls, top with seared scallops, sit down, dig in.

Have you figured out where I went wrong yet?

Hum with happiness over how ridiculously creamy the scallops are. Marvel at how delicate the rice is. And then slap yourself in the forehead while saying out loud with no irony, “DOH! I forgot the Ajvar!” Laugh out loud while trying not to shoot rice out your nose. Promise to be more mindful next time while shoving another spoonful of delicious scallopy rice into your mouth.

After all the excesses of the holidays are over, and I do hope they’re over, I always feel the need to atone for my culinary “sins” by eating lots of greens and whole grains.

Not that we don’t eat a lot of these things already, but, one day during that week between Christmas and New Year, my brain gets locked into a loop of recipes featuring lacinato kale, broccoli rabe, whole wheat pastas and yes, farro.

There’s a classy Italian joint here in the Lower East Side called ‘inoteca that the boy and I like to eat brunch at whenever we can. I always end up ordering the same panini there because I can never recall its name, their menu is unnecessarily complicated (you know the type, all in Italian, terse descriptions) and my memory’s a little shoddy (I think I usually get the prosciutto cotto, pepper agro dolce & grana, but to be honest, I’d have to taste it to be sure).

On the other hand, the boy always gets the same dish because he loves it; Warm Farro & Roasted Fruits, a kind of morning gruel made with a little whole milk and topped with caramelized fruits. It’s a perfect dish; warm, comforting, creamy and hearty, that sits comfortably at the intersection of oatmeal and risotto.

It was this breakfast dish, but a savory version, I was trying to emulate last week when my need for an atonement diet hit. I started with garlic and celery for sweetness and flavor and topped it with a bracingly bitter mixture of broccoli rabe and blood oranges. Every note of the dish was pitch perfect, the farro was creamy and sweet, the topping pleasantly bitter and spicy.

But, when on a roll, why stop with dinner? A few days later we decided to try and actually recreate ‘inoteca’s fruity farro. This time I started with my favorite Golden Berry Mix from Trader Joe’s and topped it all with another blood orange, banana slices and a handful of blueberries. It was really delicious, but I maintain it paled in comparison to the original (the boy maintains I’m crazy).

Of the two, I’m most proud of the savory version. Perhaps I’ll just stick to making up my own variations of other people’s dishes, rather than trying to copy them note for note.

Head below the jump for the recipes for Night Farro & Day Farro

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