I think I'm in love

I've got a new favorite pasta.

It's not for the vegetarian, the purist, or the healthy.  Anyone who classifies themselves as such, move along.

For the rest of you, I give you: penne with spicy tomato sauce, black olives, sausage, and burrata.

I absolutely adore this pasta. I found the recipe on Connie's blog (which I love) a few weeks ago, and knew it was going on my short list. I liked all of the ingredients, of course, but I also liked that it called for canned tomato sauce--nice shortcut! I know we're supposed to make our own tomato sauce but once in awhile it's nice to skip a few steps.

Of course, I made a few edits, all but two of which reflect my gluttonous nature.

For one, I used regular penne instead of farro penne--but only because I couldn't find farro penne, even at Whole Foods. Two, I omitted the fennel, because the husband swears he does not like it (although I slipped it into a dinner last week and he did not notice, which makes me suspicious of his claim). But I figured tricking your mate shouldn't become a regular occurrence so I let the fennel go for this one.

On the gluttonous end, I used a full pound of pasta, because I don't like to have a fraction of a box of pasta rattling around in the pantry--it's destined for the garbage. And, I used a full pound of sausage instead of a half, because, you know, why not? And, I used two cans of tomato sauce instead of one. I'm a sauce fiend, as we've discussed, so I knew one 15-ounce can wasn't going to do it for me.

It's a speedy, spicy, perfectly balanced pasta, just right for a mid-week dinner, although I would serve it without reservation to guests. The oil-cured olives add the perfect salty bite. The burrata....well, I feel the same way about burrata as I do about sauce: give me more.

I can see a lot of variations on this. If the husband ate eggplant, for instance, I would consider swapping the sausage for grilled eggplant to make the dish a shade healthier. You could leave out the cheese and it would still be delicious, add capers, making it more like a puttanesca, or skip the olives. The dish could handle any number of alterations without losing its deliciousness.

Give a try and make it your own.

In the winter, a spot of citrus sunshine

Although we've had some nice weather here and there, it still feels like winter. I don't mind the cold too much but I dislike the gray skies. Day after day of that can wear a girl down.

While a real tonic for my winter blues would be a quick trip to Hawaii, we can't swing that this year, what with our upcoming international travel. So a much simpler (and cheaper) remedy was in order: a bright citrus cake, drizzled with a sugary glaze.

I used this recipe posted at Smitten Kitchen, although the original belongs to Ina Garten. It's very simple, although it does take awhile and have a number of steps: the cake, the syrup, the glaze. Instead of using just lemons I used lemons and tangerines and the combination was delicious.

The syrup-drenching process is a little funny, at least the way I did it. You set the cake on a rack over a baking sheet and drizzle the syrup over it. But so much ended up on the baking sheet that I kept having to remove the rack and cake, pour the syrup gathered on the sheet back into my little saucepan, and drizzle all over again. I did that at least three or four times so as to use as much of the syrup as possible, but I am glad I did: I ended up with a supermoist cake similar to a pound cake.

I am also pleased to report that my glazing experience was much improved since the last time I attempted it with the vanilla bean bundt cake. Maybe I let the cake cool longer, maybe the glaze was thicker. Either way, it looked quite a bit better. See for yourself. And don't you think the cake looks a bit other-worldly in this photo?

Of course I baked it in my bundt pan. I don't care for the look of cakes baked into loaves, which is what the original recipe calls for. This would also be mighty fine divvied up into cupcakes; who doesn't want their own individual cake?

So if you're in need of a little mid-winter pick-me-up, look no further. This citrusy cake is just the ticket.

A gorgeous gratin (with a secret ingredient)

Is there anything that doesn't taste good smothered in bechamel sauce?

I'm sure I could eat anything wrapped in that creamy goodness. Include some sharp cheddar and a golden-crumbed topping, and I'd wager you could hide a tennis shoe underneath and I'd at least give it a try. Probably lick the sauce from the laces.

Last weekend, we were invited to a combo birthday/Oscar party potluck. I knew dessert was covered, it being a birthday celebration, and didn't want to bring the standard potluck salad, whether it be green, pasta, or potato. I decided on this divine cauliflower gratin, which, let's face it, is just a fancy name for casserole.

My friend Stephanie made this at Thanksgiving and it was the hit of the dinner. I bothered her for the recipe for a long time to no avail, and even tried this one in my desperation, which was very good. But it did not stand up to Stephanie's. When I finally wore her down (no friendship stands in my way of food) and got my greedy paws on it, I knew had to make it, soon. Heather's birthday bash seemed like the right opportunity.

"Why is it so good, Hungry Dog?" I can hear you clamoring. "Tell us!"

Well, there's the bechamel sauce I mentioned, which is fortified with loads of cheddar and a handful of scallions, giving it a mild oniony bite and a pleasant sprinkling of green. Then there's the topping, which is actually made from crackers instead of breadcrumbs, giving it both delightful crunch and a good dousing of trashiness, befitting its casserole roots. But what elevates this dish from delicious to divine is that the the  topping is made from...wait for it...horseradish cracker crumbs.  

What you do is, you melt some butter, and then stir in the horseradish, then toss it all with the crumbled crackers. So you've got yourself a buttery, peppery, crispy top layered over creamy, cheesy goodness. Oh yeah, there's cauliflower in there too. (Does anyone even care?)

I doubled the recipe and brought it to the potluck, where it was a great success. Heather emailed me the next day for the recipe, and although I considered playing it coy like Steph, in the end I decided, sharing is good. Plus, it's not like I made this one up.

I only made one edit to the dish, which was a concession to the husband. The recipe calls for Saltines -- you know, those flimsy salty little things. That's what I would have gotten if I'd been at the store alone. But the husband was with me, and he noticed that Saltines contain trans-fat. He batted his eyelashes a bit and said, wouldn't I consider some of the good fancy crackers we usually buy?

I was resistant at first--you know I can be a rule follower (a pointless characteristic, I'm realizing as I get older, as all it ensures is that I do the same thing as everyone else) -- but ultimately relented. And, although the crackers were quite a bit tougher to crumble, they yielded a better topping.

I guess after nearly 11 years together, I shouldn't be surprised that we've morphed into each other a bit. But, come on: the boy from Kentucky recoils at trans-fat while the California girl grudgingly agrees to use the rosemary and sea-salt crackers? Just goes to show, anything can happen if you give it time.