Another Saturday

This morning I was up before 8. Now I could have been cooking or cleaning right out of the gate, but instead I got on Facebook (which I joined last night). I've said it before and I'll say it again: I am a fool.

That aside, I made some cinnamon sugar donut muffins before going into town to pick up Sadie and hit the Obama campaign office grand opening. They looked scrumptious but were a little... dry? Chewy? I'll have to have another one in the morning with some coffee.


Even though I was up early this morning, I didn't go to the Farmer's Market. None of the meat vendors were going to be there, and since I'm leaving on Tuesday it doesn't make any sense to get produce. So, on my way home from the Obama office opening I stopped at Food Lion to pick up some spicy Italian sausages so I could make one of my favorite recipes ever, pasta with hot sausage and fennel.

Here's the "mise," with some of the muffin stuff still laying around. Cinnamon toast in the morning?

Here's everything save the pasta and sausage cooking down to a thick, creamy sauce.


And here's the final product. Even though it looks like Hamburger Helper, this is one of the tastiest dishes in my repertoire. The fennel becomes velvety smooth, very nearly melting into the cream. The spicy sausages + red pepper flakes provide the perfect kick. As an added bonus, it freezes well.

Pasta with hot sausage and fennel

3/4 pound hot Italian sausage, casings discarded

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
1 large garlic, minced
1 large fennel bulb, sliced thin (about 2 cups)
3/4 cup dry white wine
1 cup chicken broth
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 tsp red pepper flakes
salt and pepper to taste
1/2 pound penne or other tubular pasta
freshly grated parmesan to taste

In a heavy skillet cook the sausage over moderate heat, stirring and breaking up any lumps, until it is cooked through and transfer it to a bowl with a slotted spoon. Add the oil to the skillet and cook the onion and the garlic over moderately low heat, stirring, until the onion is softened. Add the fennel and cook the mixture over moderate heat, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes, or until the fennel is softened. Add the wine and broth, bring the liquid to a boil, and simmer the mixture, covered, for 5 minutes. Add the cream and red pepper flakes and boil the mixture until it is thickened slightly and reduced by about one third. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Cook the pasta until it is al dente and drain it well. Stir the sausage and pasta into the fennel mixture and toss with the parmesan.

Yogurt Roasted Chicken

Since I'm working from home today (trying to catch up on roughly a bajillion emails and reading Fulbright essays), I thought the least I could do for myself would be to have something roasty filling the house with gorgeous smells while I toiled away.

A few weeks ago I drooled over The Wednesday Chef's version of Liz Pearson's Yogurt-Rubbed Roast Chicken with Red Pepper Sauce and was remembering said recipe on my way home from a dinner party last night. Those who know me know that my memory is amazing in its sievelike qualities and won't be surprised that "chicken" and "yogurt" were the only things I actually remembered. Undeterred, I stopped at Bloom for a container of greek yogurt, set the chicken from Saturday's Ukrops run to soak in some brine last night and got up early this morning to figure out the rest.

Basically the only things that remained from Luisa's version were the chicken, yogurt, olive oil, salt, pepper and dry mustard. I added some dried thyme, tarragon, and cayenne to the yogurt as well as a couple of dashes of sriracha. I had a cut lemon laying around so I stuffed that inside. Instead of using a rack, I cut up some onions and new potatoes to use as a bed for the chicken and cooked it for two hours at 325.

And here's the tender, juicy, delicious result:


The chicken is perfect. Seriously, I could barely stop picking at it long enough to wash my sticky hands so I could upload the photos and write a post.

The potatoes and onions may not look like much, but with a twist of pepper and a sprinkle of salt? Man, are they yummy.


The red pepper sauce still intrigues me and I'll probably try it in the near future. For now, this has made my week - and it's only Monday!

Lazy Sunday

A horribly unoriginal title already. Apt, but unoriginal.

Today was not a sleep in til noon day, no sirree. I was up by 8:30 enjoying coffee with whole milk goodness. Stephanie Insley Hershinow, one of my favorite people in the whole world, and her husband David came over for brunch. We had talked about going to the Blue Talon for their excellent Sunday brunch, but decided that with the 45 degree weather and the sleet and all it would be too much of a hassle.

After some strong coffee and good conversation, I had a pancake disaster (Steph, I promise you pancakes to go with your lime curd next time) so switched to simple scrambled eggs and fried ham. In the process we discovered some additional moldy food in the refrigerator, so I guess it wasn't entirely a bad thing.

This is the rare case where the company is the important thing, anyway.

Just before Steph and David got here I threw a brisket in the oven. This gem of a recipe from the NYTimes gives the biggest bang for the smallest effort I know. I think it was originally called Friday Night Brisket, and it involves putting a brisket fat side up in a dutch oven-like pot (I use my beloved blue Staub Cocotte), dumping onion soup mix then bottled chili sauce on it, crushing a couple of garlic cloves and scattering them around, adding just enough water to almost cover the meat, and letting it sit at 350 for 4 1/2 hours. (I recommend doing this on a gray day when you're stuck inside, or when you're just doing some crap job around the house. Trust me, the smell of this brisket cooking will make everything better.)

At that point you take it out and let it cool - it's okay to refrigerate overnight, for instance - skim the fat, pull the meat apart a bit with a fork, add a bag of baby carrots, and pop it back in the over at 350 for another hour. That's it. Except for the part where you eat it and think you've died and gone to heaven.