This blog turned two over a week ago without so much as a happy birthday wish from me let alone a post to commemorate the fact, which says a lot about the sorry state of things over here. One year ago I had recently left my job as an editor and was working in my first kitchen, and it was great. Yes it was a bit draining, but I still managed to spend a good chunk of my free time cooking and writing, and I still enjoyed it more than anything else. Three kitchen jobs later, I’m feeling a little less excited. I still cook nearly every day, but it’s of a completely different type. I used to spend hours (hours! how did I have the time?) paging through my cookbooks and the Internet, bookmarking recipes I needed to make, making lists of when I was going to make them and post about them, going to the grocery store with long-ass lists. Now, I look in my cabinets and fridge, take stock of what’s there, and throw something together. I go to the grocery store and buy what looks good. If they’re out of something I wanted, I don’t freak out and go to another grocery store; I just buy a substitute or forget it altogether. I hardly ever follow recipes anymore, preferring instead to either use my head and wing it, or to make a variation or improvement upon a dish I’ve made before. Cooking this way is much less stressful. It also feels much less blogworthy.

Another thing that’s happened to my cooking: instead of always trying something new, I’ve been making the same things, or the same types of things or variations of those things, over and over again. And I’m not worried about it. There hasn’t been a meat dish on here since May 11. I don’t care. This scone recipe hails from the same cookbook the rye crumble bars came from. So what? I’m going through a kale/whole-grain flour phase and I’ve only had time to look at one cookbook recently.

At my current job I make a lot of scones, so why on earth would I want to make them at home? Well besides the fact that these are a bit special, made with butter that is liquefied and browned and then resolidified in the freezer (the component of the recipe that both repelled and attracted me), making a batch of scones at home and eating them warm and fresh from the oven is a completely different thing from churning out huge amounts of dough in an industrial mixer to ultimately be consumed by strangers I will never meet. And so now I truly appreciate the process of mixing cream in by hand, patting the dough into small disks, cutting it into slightly imperfect wedges, and baking it off for me and mine alone.

These scones are very similar to the oatmeal scones I was making at Bluebird, but these incorporate brown sugar as well as white, whole wheat flour, and brown butter, of course. They’re also bereft of dried fruit and nuts; I debated putting some in, but I didn’t want anything to interfere with the caramely flavor of the browned butter. I wanted to make sure I could taste it. More than flavor, though, browned butter imparts an aroma that is truly intoxicating, and it’s worth doing for this scent alone. You get it twice: first when you brown the butter, and then again when the scones are baking.

So here’s looking forward to another year. I hope that in addition to whatever else it brings, it brings me here more. Although I’m not going to make any promises, the outlook is good: cooking is still the closest thing to my heart. Besides Joey, that is. Oh, and the husband.

Brown Butter Scones, adapted from Good to the Grain

Ingredients:

• 1 stick (4 oz) butter
• 1/2 cup (2.4 oz) whole wheat pastry flour or regular whole wheat flour
• 1 cup (4.5 oz) all-purpose flour
• 1 cup (3.3 oz) whole rolled oats
• 1/4 cup (2.2 oz/63 g) dark brown sugar
• 1/4 cup (1.85 oz/53 g) sugar
• 2 tsp baking powder
• 1 1/4 tsp kosher salt
• 1/2 cup (4 oz) heavy cream, plus more for brushing
• 1 egg
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• granulated sugar or turbinado, for sprinkling

Directions:

1. Melt the butter in a high-sided saucepan over medium heat. Swirl the pan to encourage even melting. At first the butter will melt to gold, followed by white foam that bubbles around the edges and then moves toward the center. It sounds almost like popcorn popping. Next, the butter solids form a bubbling raft. Small brown flecks will dot the surface. Give the pan a swirl and continue cooking until the bottom of the pan is covered in dark brown flecks and your kitchen smells toasty. If the butter is about to overflow, stick a metal whisk in it and it will descend.
2. Pour the brown butter into a wide, shallow container, scraping all of the dark flecks at the bottom of the pan into the container (that color is flavor), and freeze until solid. The larger the surface area of the container, the faster the butter will freeze. This step can be done a day or more ahead of time.
3. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment, or butter or spray it.
4. Measure the dry ingredients into the bowl of a food processor. Cut the frozen butter into pieces and add it to the dry ingredients. Pulse until the butter is ground to coarse meal, about 10 seconds. Pour the mixture into a large bowl. (You can also do this step by hand.)
5. In a small bowl, whisk the cream, egg, and vanilla until combined. Add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients and stir gently to combine.
6. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and fold together a few times to form a cohesive ball. Flatten the dough into a disk about 1 inch thick and 7 inches wide, taking care to soften the edges with your hands to keep them from cracking. Cut the disk into 8 wedges.
7. Place the wedges onto the baking sheet spaced a few inches apart. Brush the tops of the scones lightly with cream, then sprinkle generously with sugar.
8. Bake for 28 to 34 minutes, until the scones are browning around the edges and on top.

I am super in love with these. You can eat one for breakfast. You can have one for a snack. You can warm one up (or not) for dessert and top it with a scoop (or two) of vanilla ice cream. You can pick one up and eat it like a slice of pizza (over a plate, please, to catch the crumbs, unless you have a dog, and even then) or you can plate a slice and eat it with a fork. And you can feel just fine about eating so many because they’re made with whole-grain rye flour, oats, and fruitalicious jam! Any jam you want!

They’re also quite buttery, with a goodly amount of salt in the crumb, which I love.

Now this recipe calls for rye flour, which I for some strange reason happened to have in my cabinet (impulse purchase?), but if you, understandably, do not, I don’t see why you couldn’t sub whole wheat or spelt or oat, or even all-purpose, although by then you’d maybe be missing the point, which is that whole-grain flours in baked goods totally rock (thanks, Kim).

Whole Wheat Crumble Bars, adapted slightly from Good to the Grain: Baking with Whole-Grain Flours by Kim Boyce

Ingredients:

For the crust

• 1/2 cup rye flour or another whole-grain flour like whole wheat or spelt
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/3 cup dark brown sugar
• 1/2 tsp kosher salt
• 4 oz (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted and cooled slightly
• 1 tsp vanilla extract

For the crumble topping

• 1 cup oats
• 3 Tbsp dark brown sugar
• 1/4 cup plus 2 Tbsp rye flour or other whole-grain flour
• 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
• 3 Tbsp sugar
• 1 tsp kosher salt
• 3 oz (6 Tbsp) unsalted butter, melted and cooled

For the filling

• 1 1/2 cups jam, fruit butter, or compote (I used apple butter)

Directions:

1. Position a rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 275 degrees. Butter the sides and bottom of a 9-inch springform pan.
2. To make the crust, whisk together the flours, brown sugar, and salt in a large bowl. Add the melted butter and vanilla and stir until thoroughly combined. Using your hands, press the dough evenly into the bottom of the buttered pan. Put the pan in the freezer for 30 minutes while you make the topping.
3. Add all of the crumble ingredients except the melted butter to the bowl of a food processor and process until the oats are partially ground, about 5 seconds. Pour the mixture into a bowl. Add the melted butter and stir with your hands, squeezing the dough as you mix to create small crumbly bits. Set aside.
4. Bake the frozen crust until golden and firm when touched, 50 to 55 minutes. Remove from the oven and increase the temperature to 350 degrees.
5. Spread the jam, fruit butter, or compote of your choice over the crust and top with the crumble, evenly sprinkling it over the surface. Bake for 50 to 55 minutes, until golden brown, rotating the pan halfway through for even baking.
6. When the pan is cool enough to handle but still warm, run a sharp knife around the edge of the crumble bars to loosen any fruit that may have stuck to the pan while baking and remove the ring. Once cool, cut into wedges.

These bars keep well at room temperature for up to 5 days.

So I know I just posted a kale salad recipe, but you can never have too much raw kale in your diet, kiddies.

And while that one was really more of a slaw composed of half kale and half Brussels sprouts, this one is a true salad with kale standing in for lettuce leaves, roasted cubes of butternut squash, toasted almonds, and crumbled aged cheddar. What’s common to both is that you feel supremely virtuous eating them. And since kale is so stubbornly hearty, in both cases the salads can (and should) be dressed in advance and eaten for a couple of days that way.

This recipe, which comes from a restaurant in the East Village that I’ve never been to and will most likely never go to, mentions a specific brand of aged cheddar to use, Cabot clothbound, and I wasn’t going to, just on principle. But when I asked the cheesemonger for an aged cheddar, that was precisely the one he pulled out, and before I could object he was shaving off some hefty slabs for me to taste, and once I tasted it and it was delicious, well how could I say no? Why would I say no? The recipe also called for some optional Pecorino for grating on top, which I optioned out of because I’d overdosed on cheese to the point of nausea the night before (it happens), but I’m sure the extra cheese would’ve made this salad even more divine, to state the obvious. But as was, it was perfect. Even the husband liked it (“Wow, I’m surprised at how good this is”) and he professes to not like kale. I’m in the process of turning him around. And now I might be one of those people (assuming these people exist) who use kale instead of romaine for their salads and feel secretly superior to their peers.

In fact, I guess I’m already one of those people. I made another kale salad just last night, with diced apples, cucumbers, walnuts, and more of that excellent cheddar, which I dressed in a lemon-mustard vinaigrette and ate so much of I may just be kaled out. For now, at least.

Northern Spy’s Kale Salad, adapted from Food52

Ingredients:

• 1 small butternut squash
• 1 bunch dinosaur or lacinato kale
• 1/4 cup almonds, roughly chopped
• 1/4 to 1/2 cup crumbled age cheddar, like Cabot clothbound (if you can’t find a good aged cheddar, use Parmesan)
• Pecorino or other hard cheese for shaving (optional)
• extra-virgin olive oil
• lemon juice
• salt and freshly ground black pepper

The other day I was feeling nostalgic about the things I used to make at Bluebird, these muffins most of all.

They came into my life about a year ago, when a girl I worked with at another bakery made a batch for the shop and saved me one. I had it the next morning and was astounded by how good it was, how moist it had stayed overnight. So when I had free reign at Bluebird, this was the first muffin to go on the menu and the recipe I used as a spinoff for other flavors.

You can really use any type of apple you like for these. I used to use Granny Smith; their tartness contrasts nicely with the muffins’ brown sugary lids. But this time I used Galas, which were a little bit sweeter and just as good. I leave the skins on my apples for color and texture (and because I’m too lazy to peel them).

Everyone knows the muffin top is the best part, and so to maximize on this I fill my muffin cups to the very top with batter, actually well above the rim, and leave spaces in between so that the batter can puff up and spread and form a crusty-edged lid without running into the other muffins. If you only have one muffin tin though, well, you can’t worry yourself about this, now can you? Just make them.

Fresh from the oven, the tops are crunchy. As time goes on, the muffins get soft and stay moist, with a room-temperature shelf life of about three days. They freeze well; I’ve got about eight of these babies chillin in there now, and I think it’s time for one to get defrosted and into my belly.

Whole Wheat Apple Muffins, adapted from Smitten Kitchen

Ingredients:

• 4 oz (scant cup) whole wheat flour
• 4.25 oz (scant cup) all-purpose flour
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1 Tbsp cinnamon
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 3.5 oz (1/2 cup) sugar
• 50 g (1/4 cup) brown sugar (preferably dark, but you can use either dark or light), plus another 1/4 cup or so for sprinkling
• 4 oz (1 stick) butter, melted and cooled slightly
• 1 egg
• 8 oz (1 cup) buttermilk
• 2 large apples or 3 small apples, diced (1/2- to 3/4-inch pieces)

These rugelach would’ve been a lot better if only I’d remembered how much I dislike orange marmalade and used another jam instead, like apricot. Or strawberry, even. Marmalade is so bitter! Is it just me? Also, the recipe made two to three times more filling than was needed, which I realized early on, and yet I continued to follow the instructions, faithfully slathering way too much filling onto the dough and struggling to roll it up into cylinders because jam was overflowing all over the place. And doing this four times, with four pieces of dough.

Although if the filling didn’t contain marmalade, its overabundance wouldn’t have been such a problem. But that still wouldn’t have saved these little pastries from looking awfully silly and unrugelachish. Come to think of it, though, why go through all the bother of making the filling, with the walnuts and the dried fruit and the simmering and the pulsing? Why not just use store-bought jam and call it a day? Is that blasphemous? Yes. Forget I suggested that.

The husband really liked these though, or claims to have. He said they were like the best hamantaschen ever, since hamantaschen never have enough filling but hello, I believe mine did. And if I was going for hamantaschen I would’ve made hamantaschen, but I was going for rugelach. And since I only baked off one of these cylinders, I have three more taking up room in the freezer that I sort of don’t ever want to bake because they’ll just make me angry.

Whoops, how’d that slip in there? And no longer bitter. Well, maybe still a little bit bitter.

Orange-Apricot Rugelach, adapted slightly from Leite’s Culinaria

Ingredients:

For the dough

• 2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting work surface
• 1/4 cup sugar, plus more for sprinkling
• 1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt
• 8 ounces (2 sticks) unsalted butter, cut into chunks and chilled
• 8 ounces cream cheese, cut into chunks
• 2 tablespoons sour cream or Greek yogurt
• 2 large egg yolks

Another holiday season and cookies continue to frustrate and underwhelm me. Like why didn’t these bake up with a crinkle top as they were supposed to? Did I underbake them? (No.) Overbake them? (I don’t think so.) Scoop them too small? (Would that make a difference?) Bake them while the dough was too cold? Not flatten them enough? (Hate cookies.)

I don’t really mean that, hate is a strong word. It’s just that I continue to prefer every other type of dessert to cookies; but cookies are like a thing this time of year, and so I was doing my duty. These cookies are, in fact, Christmasy. They’ve got the requisite spices (cinnamon, cloves, ginger, allspice) and a good amount of molasses and brown sugar. Their sweetness is pushed over the edge by being rolled in chunky sugar before baking, but you have to do it for the marvelous crunchy exterior it gives.

Whenever I’d make cookies in the past, I’d lament that there were so many cookies in the house now, and it took so long to bake so many sheets’ worth of cookies, but now what I do (duh), is scoop all the dough into balls and freeze most of them, just baking one or two trays’ worth the first day. This is what you do when you live in a two-person, one-dog household and never get invited to cookie exchanges. If I ever do get invited to a cookie exchange, though, I will make bar cookies or brownies.

A molasses bar cookie. With a crunchy sugar topping and a gooey center with maybe some crystallized ginger? Hmmmmm…next year.

“Momma! Stop writing about cookies and play the fetch game with me!”

Molasses Sugar Cookies, adapted from Food52

Makes 2 to 2 1/2 dozen cookies

Ingredients:

• 2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 2 tsp baking soda
• 1 tsp ground cinnamon
• 1 tsp ground ginger
• 1/2 tsp allspice
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1/4 tsp ground cloves
• 3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) butter, room temperature
• 3/4 cup packed brown sugar (preferably dark, but I used light)
• 1 large egg
• 1/2 cup molasses
• turbinado, demerara, or granulated sugar, for rolling

Directions:

1. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, salt, and spices.
2. Beat together the butter and brown sugar until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add egg and molasses, mixing to combine well. On the lowest speed or by hand, stir in the flour mixture. Refrigerate batter for at least 1 hour.
3. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Scoop dough into 1 1/2-inch balls (mine may have been a little smaller) and roll each ball in the sugar. Arrange on parchment-lined baking sheets, and flatten each ball slightly. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes.

I made these Brussels sprouts twice this week. Yes, this recipe’s a definite keeper, but also I had to make them a second time because the first time I was too distracted by what our new edition, Joey, was getting into to take pictures. And the distraction was totally justified; I took my eyes off him for two minutes and heard a loud bang/yelp. He’d fallen down the stairs. Needless to say, this was not a proud moment. Come to think of it, I probably shouldn’t be admitting it.

Only after I was sufficiently convinced that no bones were broken and no blatantly obvious brain damage was done could I sit down and enjoy these Brussels sprouts. Thoroughly. We finished them all in one sitting, and so I vowed to make them again and share them with you.

Joey didn’t even approach the stairs this time. (The day he can actually get down them without falling will be a milestone.) Instead, he chilled/napped on the couch he’s claimed, occasionally entertaining himself with his myriad toys and coming over to the kitchen once in a while to check on my progress. Which was going quite smoothly, something I’ll attribute to both of us becoming more acclimated to our altered living situation.

While I adore that hash, this might be my new preferred method of cooking Brussels sprouts. No food processor required, here the sprouts are halved, browned in butter and olive oil, braised in white wine and chicken stock, then given a silky smooth finish with a little cream and Dijon mustard. Now what about that doesn’t scream delicious? And if you’ll excuse me, I need to go distract Joey from chewing on iPhone chargers/briefcases/pillows/slippers.

Dijon-Braised Brussels Sprouts, adapted from Smitten Kitchen

Ingredients:

• 16 to 18 oz Brussels sprouts, trimmed and halved (include the outer leaves that fall off)
• 2 to 3 shallots, sliced thinly
• 1 Tbsp butter
• 1 Tbsp olive oil
• 1/2 cup white wine
• 1 cup chicken stock
• 1 Tbsp smooth Dijon mustard
• 2 Tbsp cream
• kosher salt
• freshly ground black pepper
• 1/4 to 1/2 tsp dried red pepper flakes

About a month ago we had dinner with our friends Ruthie and Forrest, and Ruthie made this kale tart. While we were eating it she totally talked it down, saying how it wasn’t as good as it normally was and she had to leave out the cranberries, etc., but I loved it. So much so that I was thinking about it for days afterward and asked for the recipe. I’ve made it twice in the past week and am still surprised by how good it is. I feel like I’ve discovered something revolutionary in the crust, made from almond flour, oil, minced scallion, salt, and baking soda; it’s supremely savory. The filling is chopped steamed kale, shallot, buttery pine nuts, and sweet dried cranberries, set up with eggs. For me, this is the perfect lunch.

Tuscan kale as opposed to curly is the better choice here; its leaves are more tender and will wilt faster in the steamer, although I suppose you could try using curly kale if you tear it into very small pieces first.

The original recipe called for 3 cups of kale, which weighed in at about 1.6 ounces when I measured it out, which seemed like a puny amount (my measuring could’ve been flawed, but squishy things like kale should really be measured by weight). Sure enough, the finished tart left me wanting a thicker layer of kale, so I used 3 ounces the second time around. The recipe also calls for grapeseed oil in the crust, which I thought I had but didn’t, so I used sunflower. The second time I used olive oil. Both were great, but I think I actually liked the olive a bit better. I’ll go out on a limb and tell you to use whatever oil you want.

This is a great thing to have in the fridge, as they say. It would also be right at home on the Thanksgiving table, especially if you’re needing something for guests avoiding gluten and/or dairy. It’s also super easy to pull together (did I mention that?). You’ll be grateful to have it in your repertoire.

Gluten-Free Kale Tart, adapted from The Gluten-Free Almond Flour Cookbook

Ingredients:

For the crust

• 1 1/2 cups (6.5 oz) almond flour/almond meal (I used blanched but I suspect you could use with skins, too)
• 1/2 tsp sea salt
• 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 1 scallion (white and green parts), minced
• 1/4 cup neutral oil like grapeseed or sunflower, or olive oil
• 1 Tbsp water

Bring this to Thanksgiving this year only if you want the majority of your family and friends to glower and sneer. It’s a slawlike salad of finely shredded kale and sliced brussels sprouts, topped with toasted walnuts and parmesan, and dressed in a mustard vinaigrette; Bon Appetit advertises that it will “cut through the richness of your Thanksgiving meal,” and that it will, should you decide to subject the guests to this abomination.

Okay, but I actually really liked this salad, especially the next day once the dressing had wilted the vegetables a little and the flavors had really melded. I’m very fond of brussels sprouts and I’ve been pushing more and more kale on this household recently because it’s the new “it” vegetable, and I guess I’m a sucker; but also it’s good for you, and I like eating healthy. Just not on Thanksgiving.

In the days leading up to the holiday, as much as I’d say I wanted to eat healthier and less this year, when it came right down to it I’d pass this salad by in the buffet line (with a sneer) because I wouldn’t have room for it on my plate. Macaroni and cheese or kale and brussels sprout salad? Hmmm. Sweet potato casserole or kale and brussels sprout salad? Yeaaahh. Stuffing or…you get the point.

Yes, the pleasant crunch of raw vegetables and the acidic bite of the lemony mustard dressing would indeed provide a nice counterbalance to the richness that pervades the Thanksgiving meal. But Thanksgiving isn’t about balance. It’s about piling your plate as high as you possibly can with the creamiest fattiest foods imaginable, coating it all in gravy, smearing it all around, and shoveling it into your mouth as if you haven’t eaten for the past year. And then going back for seconds. And then ditto with desserts. It’s one day a year.

Make this salad to accompany a nice roast chicken or something on one of the other 29 days of the month as part of those inevitable pre- and post-Thanksgiving diets.

Raw Kale and Brussels Sprout Salad, adapted from Bon Appetit November 2011

Serves 4

Notes: More slawlike than salady, this is best the next day, or a few hours after it’s been tossed with the dressing, in my opinion. The dressing wilts the vegetables slightly, making them softer and more palatable.

Cavolo nero, or Tuscan kale, was the recommended variety for this dish, but I used curly because that’s all my supermarket had. Tuscan kale is more tender, but if you’re chopping the kale leaves as finely as I did, either kind will work.

Ingredients:

• 1 1/2 to 2 cups (not packed) finely chopped kale leaves (in the food processor, using the metal blade)
• 9 oz brussels sprouts, trimmed and thinly sliced (using the slicing blade of the food processor, a mandoline, or a knife)
• juice of 2 lemons (about 1/4 cup)
• 2 Tbsp Dijon mustard
• 1 Tbsp minced shallot
• 1 garlic clove, minced
• kosher salt
• freshly ground black pepper
• about 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
• handful of walnuts or almonds (about 1/3 cup), drizzled with olive oil and salt and toasted for about 10 minutes at 350 degrees
• finely grated parmesan or pecorino cheese

Plural puddings because these are baked in a muffin tin so as to be individually sized. But don’t kid yourself; you’ll have at least two in a sitting and yes, that is a threat. The two of us devoured two thirds of these before I fed the remaining third to the garbage can upon the depressing realization that now that I’m funemployed (actually, the euphemism I’m preferring this time around is “between jobs”) and cooking at home again, we’re both going to gain back the weight we lost this summer. But doesn’t that always happen in the fall/winter regardless? Yes. Okay, I feel better already.

Rewind a couple weeks back to Erev Yom Kippur. There was challah. Then there was leftover challah, and what do we always do with leftover challah? There was also a can of pumpkin in the pantry, some eggs and cream and milk in the fridge, and all the necessary spices in the cabinet.

I worked off of the banana bread pudding recipe I made with last year’s leftover Kol Nidre challah and was rewarded with these cute little desserts that were firm on the outside and soft and pumpkin pie-y on the inside and perfect doused in warm maple syrup. They would’ve been even perfecter topped with some fresh whipped cream but, lacking foresight, I put all the cream I had into the puddings themselves.

And now who wants to come over for dinner? I’m cooking again!

Pumpkin Bread Puddings, adapted from my Banana Bread Pudding

Ingredients:

• 8 oz challah, torn into 1/2- to 1-inch pieces
• 1 1/4 cups half-and-half, cream, or combination of cream and milk (I used half cream, half skim milk because that was what I had in the fridge)
• 3 eggs
• 3/4 cup packed brown sugar (light, dark, or a combination)
• 1/2 tsp kosher salt
• 1 tsp vanilla extract (optional)
• 15 oz pumpkin puree
• 1 Tbsp cinnamon
• 1/2 tsp ground ginger
• 1/2 tsp allspice
• 1/2 tsp nutmeg
• 1/4 tsp cloves
• maple syrup and whipped cream for serving