This knife.

My son gave me Alton Brown's new book: Everyday Cook. It's great. Chock full of good ideas. But I got stuck, joyously, on the page with all the things he uses to get where he wants to go. Like Binder clips. It's about the second or third page. I've been peeking and then surfing to see if I have what I need. Mostly I do, but I upgraded a knife so far. (Not the one pictured.) And I have perused the interwebs for some of his recommendations.

Alton certainly said it loudest, or to the biggest audience, but I have almost always held that point of view -- everything in my kitchen should have more than one function. No gadgety gadgets for me. Years and years ago when I went to cooking school, friends and family loaded me up with this and that. All intended to make the kitchen easy and fun and what I found was that I didn't really end up using all of it. I'm fall-over grateful for every consideration, I just didn't use some of the pieces. I shared a bunch and kept a few. An example of one I don't really need? Turkey forks.  They look smart, but really, you use them once or perhaps twice a year when you make a turkey. And my dear, dear friend Jemma, who loves the Joy of Cooking, method for turkey (me too!) reminds me, you just need a couple of paper towels. I still have my Turkey forks. I use 'em, but you get that they live rent free in the kitchen all year.

My son, who loves all things Alton, gave me the Original Bear Claw pulled pork shredders for those days when I have no forks available. Ha. I got the joke right after I opened the package. He was quite proud of himself. (They turned out to have more than one application and one is actually a garden application.)

What I love is a well-considered tool. Like the knife you see in the picture. It was the first I bought, about a day after the introductory meeting at UCLA for my professional cooking course. I was so excited. And decided to be slow and careful to only buy knives I need. Really good knives and really serviceable knives. So this one had my name on it. An 8" Zwilling JA Henckels Chef's knife. About a week later I bought a 4" paring knife, then a boning knife. These were my companions and made it into my knife bag which went with me just about everywhere I went. (In my car. Is that legal?) I was thrilled, then, and am now, to have the tools of the trade in my hand.
I'm reading a book about a girl completely dedicated to cooking great food -- Kitchen of the Great Midwest by J. Ryan Stradal. And I'm reminded of how cooking is always new, with portent of magic and good problem-solving, just around the corner.

My knife, that should never have doubled as an opener for a lid of some kind, reminded me of that, too.

Just like writing, I'm called back onto my path.

I choose writing.

I pondered.
I'm writing.

It's just too sweet to consider and lay down a strings of words as they become one thread to another. An idea, a thought, a story.

Today I chose someone else's writing. Here's a wonderful string of words, ideas, actions that will end up a tasty plate for you.

So here is David Leobovitz's fabby way to roast tomatoes.

This is my before picture:

If I showed you the after picture, you'd want to eat them and you can't because they went so fast it would make your head spin. They were sprinkled with a little mineral salt, thyme and chopped garlic before they hit the oven.

My friend Claudia found Kumato tomatoes at the 99 cent store. (Those are the dark green/brown faces amid the reds.) They are super delicious. So there's your start. Go make them! Report back.

Ahh, the Bergamot

Like many, many people my only understanding of the Bergamot was some essential oil memory. An oil sold with the likes of Patchouili oil. It had something to do either with hippies or massage therapists.

Thankfully, life provides experiences (and a  foraging neighbor) so my understanding has been refined.

Stick with me here.

In the early 2000s, a lovely gardening man I worked with, used to bring small vases of Freesia into my office in winter. At first I just thought they were beautiful. Over time, I realized that they were beautiful and fragrant and drove me to want a cup of tea. And, as my unintentional explorations led, I found my desire fulfilled in Earl Grey. I've become quite an Earl Grey connoisseur, I enjoy the subtler, not to perfumey types and I like the hint of Bergamot. (See how we came full circle - wait there's more).

I was content with my tea and freesia experiences. Then this summer my friend, the foraging friend, introduced me to a beautiful line of pure and delicious olive oils. They are tres special. The way the olives are harvested and crushed makes for a very complete flavor. Garlic is crushed with the olives (for the garlic olive oil) rather than garlic oils being added to the olive oil. No infusion. Full on flavor marriage. You can learn about the oils here. I'm never going back!

In the end, the flavors hold up in cooking or preparations really well and that pleases me.

One day, I was looking at the Bergamot label and was truly surprised to learn that Bergamot isn't extracted from actual hippies, but from the Bergamot, a citrus fruit grown in Calabria, Italy or perhaps France.

Finally, yesterday, Mary handed me an actual Bergamot from one from her travels. Yes, it looks like a lemon and your knowledge of citrus has probably made your mouth water as if to smell or taste the sour. But the fragrance is intense and beautiful and clean and freesia like.

I have to cut into it and taste it. It's said to be more bitter than the grapefruit, which seems impossible with its beautiful scent. I plan, however to wait. I want to leave it on the counter in my kitchen and breath in all the aroma this beauty has to offer.

The Bergamot

Mary gave me a Bregamot.
I can't wait to tell you about this fruit.
Have you ever held one in your hand?

Celebrating Disappointment.

I've heard of cooking a turkey in a trash can. Sadly, my tale is about the turkey that hit the trash can, good night!

Last night, the intrepid, mama de cuisine, headed for the kitchen with great gusto. I'd planned my weekly menu (thank you for the inspiration Kerry!) and was prepared to, well, prepare. I made a beautiful kale salad (credit to Joan) to be used in the coming days (the juice of half an orange and olive oil along with some unsweetened and dried cranberries mingle well). Started a pot of Pasta Fagioli (thanks to my friend Alice and her recipe) while I got the potatoes on the boil and a head of Romanesco tossed in lemon and olive oil and into the oven.

The easy part was supposed to be the Trader Joe's Turkey Breast with cranberry stuffing. It wasn't. While the mashers were wonderful, the Romanesco brocolli tenderly roasted and browning, the turkey was a bust. I'm adept with turkey. (I've been on a quest for perfectly tender turkey and found a couple of different perfectly delicious ways.) I didn't see this one coming, however. It's sold as a rolled and stuffed breast wrapped in an elasticized net to hold it together. We're supposed to cook it in a 350 oven for 20 minutes per pound. Following the directions I stuck my insta-read in and it came out a beautiful 160 degrees. Unfortunately, that was just the outer turkey meat. The inside meat, when cut was a nice pink. Ok, not so nice. Clearly, this style of stuffed breast should have cooked lower and slower.

It ended up in my trash can. I'm all too aware of how salmonella works and also, not the least bit willing to serve dried out turkey breast (which was only going to get drier going back in the oven). A sad sigh follows.

All was not lost though. Leftover chicken found it's way into a subtle turkey gravy I was playing with from the drippings, some stock and vermouth. It was yummy over the potatoes. And the nice man at Trader Joe's is going to provide a refund for my trouble. (He was aghast to hear about the instruction trouble.)

It was a learning experience and a nice save.
I can celebrate the disappointment.
It's a good thing.

Tonight? Romanesco.

I'll dispense with the, "why, your cauliflower looks like a horny toad!" comments and skip right to this. I'll slice it and toss it with olive oil, salt and lemon juice. Pop it in a 350 oven and let it roast until it begins to caramelize. Then, for the last 5 minutes, I'll add minced garlic, a clove or two, and Romanesco, here we come.

Tonight, it will sit next to a turkey breast with a mild cranberry stuffing and some roasted winter carrots.

I'm looking forward to dinner.

Have you tried this crazy looking veggie?