Apricot walnut bars, and a houseguest

Did you forget about me, friends?

There's been lots of work to do this week, plus we've had a houseguest. Our little buddy Django came to stay with us, and Frances quickly schooled him in the way things go around here.

First, if you hear the clang of a pot or pan lid, vegetables being chopped, or the refrigerator door swing shut, run as fast as you can to the kitchen and assess the situation.

Once you determine the source of the sound, get underfoot and don't move until something drops.

As soon as something hits the floor, it's every dog for him/herself.

When you've scrounged whatever you can, repeat from the beginning.

It's been a joy to see them together. Makes us think of getting Frances a full-time sidekick.

Anyway, today I had the itch to do something with some dried apricots I picked up recently. Apricot bars seemed a natural fit, but I have found mixed luck with bar cookies. Remember when I made the crazy mango bars? They weren't bad but they weren't...good.

These apricot bars I whipped up, though, they were swell. I even included the walnuts, which is unusual for me. Usually I abhor nuts in baked things.

In a way, they almost seemed like less of a bar and more like a little cake sitting on shortbread. The top is cakey and delicate, and as I bit into it, I imagined eating one for breakfast the next day. But then you get down to the crumbly cookie base, and it's hard to persuade yourself that these really belong in breakfast territory.

Although, if people can eat steak and eggs for breakfast, why can't I eat a layered cake-on-cookie?

Give me one good reason.

Farro salad with roasted tomatoes and shaved parmesan

I've been obsessed with farro ever since it started turning up in restaurants. First I had it at too-cool-for-school Beretta in the Mission. Then I had it at the only semi-hip (but extremely delicious) Gialina in Glen Park. It even trickled down to plain old Pasta Pomodoro in Noe Valley, where we sometimes end up for weekend brunch.

Then I read about Thomas Keller's buttered farro over at Connie's blog, and I pretty much haven't stopped thinking about it since.

If you haven't had farro, it's a bit like barley, only slightly chewier. Farro can take nearly any flavor, be served hot, cool, or at room temperature, and either grace the side of a roast or stand up on its own. In short, it's exceedingly versatile.

When I finally got around to buying some (which turns out isn't cheap-possibly its only downside),  I decided to make something that felt like summer, which to me means tomatoes and basil.  Grilled vegetables or peppery arugula would work well in it too, as would curls of salty prosciutto or velvety black olives. What would have really blown me to bits was if I'd had some burrata on hand. But I suppose you can't have everything.

Farro salad with roasted tomatoes and shaved parmesan
Another Hungry Dog original

1 c. farro
2 T. unsalted butter
1 T. olive oil
3 c. water
1 pint cherry or grape tomatoes
handful of basil, julienned
parmesan for shaving
vinaigrette made to taste (I used olive oil, balsamic vinegar, one clove of minced garlic, a little honey, salt and pepper)

Preheat the oven to 425.

Heat the oil and butter over medium high heat in a medium saucepan. Once the butter has melted, foamed, and subsided, add the farro and toast, stirring frequently, for 3-5 minutes. Add water, stir well, bring to a boil then reduce heat so that the water is simmering but not boiling. Let cook, uncovered, for 20 minutes. Farro should still be chewy when it's done cooking, not overly soft.

While the farro is cooking, toss the tomatoes with a little olive oil, salt and pepper, and spread out on a baking sheet. Roast for 8-10 minutes, until the tomatoes split. Remove from oven and let cool slightly.

Make vinaigrette. I made about, oh, 1/3-1/2 c. and kept it separate from the salad mixing bowl so I could add it gradually. I'm not including directions here, because I never measure when it comes to vinaigrettes, which may explain why sometimes they are good and sometimes they are not.

When the farro is done, either pour it into a large mixing bowl, or if there is still some water that hasn't been absorbed, drain the farro and place it in mixing bowl. (I just estimated how much water to use and 3 cups turned out right--the farro is boiled, not steamed, so err on adding more water rather than less). Toss with vinaigrette, and taste for seasoning. The farro will keep absorbing the vinaigrette, so add as much or as little as you like. Then add the tomatoes, with any juices that have accumulated. Mix gently, then add basil, and mix again. Season to taste and serve warm or at room temperature, garnished with shaved parmesan.

I guess I don't like catfish after all

Isn't this pretty?

Catfish panfried until golden, then topped with a tomato, basil, and olive sauce.

Too bad I didn't like it very much.

Well, I liked the sauce part. After I cooked the fish, I melted some butter and oil in the same pan, threw in cherry tomatoes, kalamata olives, and garlic and cooked it until the tomatoes broke, about two minutes. Stirred in some basil for an herby finish.

The sauce would be good on pasta. Or bruschetta. Or over chicken. Or with a different kind of fish. Just not catfish. I decided, with this recipe, that I don't like catfish after all. I've eaten it many times in my life and each time, I think to myself, "Do I like this?"

Sometimes I've overcooked it. Surely that hasn't helped. Catfish already learns toward the tough side--overcook it and it's a rubbery mess. But I've also undercooked it. That's no good either. Unlike tuna or salmon, catfish needs to be done all the way through or it gives me the heeby jeebies.

There's a secret to cooking catfish, but I don't know what it is. And I think I'll devote myself to unlocking other mysteries of the kitchen. Because even if it were cooked perfectly, I'm not sure I would love it. The sauce, however--that's a keeper.

Quick tomato and olive sauce
A Hungry Dog original

1 pint cherry tomatoes
1-2 garlic cloves minced
1 T. olive oil
2 T. butter
1/4 c. pitted olives, chopped
2-3 T. chopped basil

Melt butter and oil in a saute pan over medium high heat. After the butter has foamed and subsided, toss in tomatoes, olives, and garlic. Let cook for a couple of minutes over lively heat, until the skin on the tomatoes splits. Turn off the heat. Add salt and pepper to taste, and basil.

Serve over anything but catfish.