Vanilla-Scented Rhubarb Bread Pudding

In a recipe feature in the current issue of Edible Seattle, author Lara Ferroni complains about the abundance of rhubarb in her garden, calling it "a monster not easily tamed." She tries to trim it back, and it just "cranks out more stalks." She tries to give it away to her neighbors, but they "have rhubarb of their own to battle."

Seriously, these people in the Northwest are so crazy. Next thing you know, they'll be complaining about an abundance of blackberry bushes! Ha, can you imagine? Why, just the other day, Dara and I discovered our own blackberry bush peeping its head through the fertile soil in our backyard. We can't wait to coax it along and harvest our own fruit. I'll be sure to water it well and pat it gently with organic fertilizer.

(For those in other locales: This is irony, and people from the Northwest will find it very amusing, perhaps jabbing me in the ribs for making such a funny joke. Blackberry bushes are considered a weed here. They grow wild everywhere -- in vacant lots, on the side of the highway, through the cracks of the sidewalk and the slits in the floorboards. People go to great lengths to tame them, but God forbid, not with toxic chemicals -- more like with goats. All of which is charming and adorable, don't you think?)

Back in Chicago, I paid big bucks for rhubarb and could find it only for the briefest of times in the fanciest of markets. So, I consider it precious and honor it as such. I spotted it last week at my new Seattle farmers market -- so many stalks for just $2? -- and can fathom no better foil to the vanilla-scented custard in this toasty bread pudding. Come on now.

VANILLA-SCENTED RHUBARB BREAD PUDDING

Serves 8-10

1 pound red rhubarb, sliced into 1-inch pieces

1 cup + 1 tablespoon sugar, divided

3 tablespoons melted butter, divided

12 slices stale country white bread

4 large eggs

2 cups cream

1 cup milk

The seeds of 1/2 vanilla bean, or 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Lightly sweetened, softly whipped cream to accompany

Toss rhubarb with 1/4 cup sugar and set aside to macerate for at least an hour (or overnight is fine).

Preheat oven to 325 F. Brush an 8-inch square baking dish with 1-2 tablespoons melted butter and set aside. Using hot water from the tap and a larger baking dish, prepare a water bath in which to bake your bread pudding and place it in the oven. (Specifically, that means placing the empty dish in the oven and then using a pitcher to fill it halfway with hot water.)

Cut bread into cubes the size of rustic croutons. Beat eggs in a medium bowl, and whisk in 3/4 cup sugar as well as cream, milk and vanilla. Add bread cubes and stir gently to combine. Place a layer of the bread mixture in the buttered baking dish; follow with a layer of rhubarb, and then with another layer of bread mixtures. Brush the top with the remaining 1-2 tablespoons butter; sprinkle with the remaining 1 tablespoon sugar. Set in the water bath and bake for about 1 hour to an hour and 10 minutes, until the top is golden. Carefully remove the dish from the water bath and let it cool a bit. (Deal with discarding the water bath later, once the oven has cooled down.) Serve the pudding warm, with lightly sweetened, softly whipped cream.

Fried Zucchini Blossoms Stuffed with Cheese

The zucchini I picked up this weekend (see a couple posts ago) came attached to yellow blossoms. Hooray for Fried Zucchini Blossoms Stuffed with Cheese!

I made these last year on a whim and made a couple of key mistakes. First, I used canola oil, which is not the best choice for deep-frying as it can emit an off smell. Second, I used matzo meal as breading because it was all I had on hand. Boo for matzo meal! And for being too lazy to go to the store!

This year I got it right, with peanut oil and fluffy white breadcrumbs. To be honest, the breadcrumbs were made from stale, leftover hot dog buns -- quite a nice flavor and texture when deep fried.

Now, let's talk about the cheese. I had on hand some triple cream Brie, as well as a small log of herbed goat cheese. Both worked well. You could also experiment with other cheeses that melt well and have some flavor to give the little poppers a kick. At the same time, you don't want to overpower the flavor of the zucchini blossom itself. These are a scrumptious appetizer and must be eaten immediately after they're fried.

FRIED ZUCCHINI BLOSSOMS
Serves 4

12 fresh zucchini blossoms
4 ounces medium-flavored, easy-melting cheese such as Brie or herbed goat cheese, sliced into 12 portions
2 eggs
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
Pinch black pepper
2 stale hot dog buns or 3 ounces white bread
2-3 cups peanut oil

Wash zucchini blossoms by placing them in a bowl of cold water and removing any visible dirt. Drain and pat dry with paper towels. Gently open each blossom and stuff with cheese, making sure you pat it entirely closed. (You don't want loose cheese floating around in the oil.)

Beat eggs together with salt and pepper in a shallow bowl. Process bread in a food processor or blender and place it in another shallow bowl next to the eggs. Dip each stuffed blossom in egg, then in breadcrumbs, and then place on the paper towels to the left of the stove.

Heat about 2 inches of oil on medium-high heat in a medium pot. Meanwhile, place some paper towels to the right of the stove.

When you sprinkle a drop of water into the oil and it sizzles, then the oil is ready to be used. Drop the blossoms at few at a time into the hot oil. Don't layer them. Cover the pot and cook for 2-3 minutes or until they are golden brown; use rubber-coated tongs or a slotted spatula to flip them and cook another minute or so, until they are golden brown on all sides. Remove them and place them paper towels; again, don't layer them. Repeat with remaining blossoms. Let them drain, and then immediately place them on a plate and serve.

Copper River Salmon, Grilled & Revered

"It's here!"

Several local markets have hung banners triumphantly announcing the arrival of Copper River salmon. Even at $26.95 a pound, it sells briskly for the three to four weeks each May that it's available, and it's heralded for its deep red, fatty and flavorful flesh that's rich in omega-3 fatty acids. So, I decided to bite.

I brought home some sockeye and we grilled it simply, serving it with a Rioja -- a punchier wine than you'd usually pair with salmon, for this is a punchier salmon, having swum upstream more than 300 miles in frigid Alaskan waters.

We cooked a large fillet skin-side down for 4-5 minutes, brushing it with a mixture of olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper, and then placing it on a bed of dill to be served.

Other components of the meal were steamed red potatoes with butter, salt and fresh dill, and a mixed green salad with blueberries, red bell pepper, Gouda and lemon vinaigrette. And tasting the salmon's rich, delicious flesh, we were hooked.*

*"Bite" and "hook" are cute metaphors, but did you know that Copper River salmon is usually not caught on a hook? According to www.copperriversalmon.org, commercial fishermen use the gillnetting technique, which involves laying a net wall in the water in the fishes' path. The fish swim into the mesh and are prevented from escaping. I wonder what it would be like to catch one on a line -- they must have Herculean strength! Perhaps some of my dad and dad-esque readers would like to weigh in on this, hmm?

Real Baby Vegetables with Good Butter

When Dara and I were in Paris a few years ago with our friend Gina,* we ate a dish we still talk about today: Side of Cooked Vegetables. Can you believe it?

Well, last night I recreated it, and I'll share it with you. The price is that first you must meander with me through my personal vegetable history. Patience, my pretties.

I hate to admit that Paris memory, because it's not like we were vegetable imbeciles. Sure, like many Americans of our generation, we grew up with mothers pleading for us to "just take three bites" of obligatory frozen ones -- like squeaky green beans, or a sad mix of peas, carrots and corn termed "confetti" in a feeble attempt to be fun. Though my grandparents were prolific vegetable gardeners, my mom and I secretly derided their bitter "hippy lettuces." Mom often opted for convenience and practicality instead -- so for us, salad meant nice clean iceberg lettuce, tomatoes and cucumbers from the supermarket.

Then, America had a produce revolution! This was based partly on the re-discovery that fresh produce tastes better, which David Kamp charts wonderfully in his book, The United States of Arugula: The Sun-Dried, Cold-Pressed, Dark-Roasted, Extra Virgin Story of the American Food Revolution (Broadway Books, 2006). The ideas of hippy-era vegetable pioneers like Alice Waters, Mollie Katzen and Deborah Madison took on new life as chefs and consumers demanded a greater variety of high-quality ingredients.

It also helped that vegetables are healthy, and Americans love the opportunity to take the fun out of anything delicious by declaring it part of a diet. In 1991, the National Cancer Institute (NCI) and the Produce for Better Health Foundation created the 5 A Day for Better Health Program, which highlighted the soon-to-be-launched Food Guide Pyramid's recommendation to eat at least five daily servings of fruits and vegetables. I got a public relations job for the program in 1996, and we recruited Graham Kerr as our spokesperson.

Kerr is an evangelist, quite literally, for fruits and vegetables; after specializing in meat, cream and booze for many years as public TV's Galloping Gourmet, he and his wife experienced a series of health problems and revelations. So we worked with him to develop a series of brief radio and television segments giving Americans creative, healthy ideas for using fruits and vegetables. They ran on stations all over the country, usually as part of the news hour.

I learned a lot from Kerr about everyday produce preparations -- like how to use a chayote squash, why you would want to eat a turnip, and how to peel and cube a mango. We showcased nearly every fresh, frozen, canned and dried fruit and vegetable Americans would find at a standard supermarket. The only bad part was that the recipes we developed for the program were required to be low-fat or fat-free.

Fortunately Americans' acceptance of fat returned, and their interest in good produce continued to grow. At the turn of the century, chefs sought ever more exotic fruits and vegetables. I worked in the kitchen at Charlie Trotter's in Chicago, where diners expected to leave having tasted new ingredients so they could brag to their friends. Chef Trotter loved produce and cooked with an extraordinary variety from around the world. Specialty vendors, farmers and Fed-Ex deliveries would unveil things I'd never seen -- vegetables like white and black truffles, kohlrabi, lotus root and fiddlehead ferns, and fruits like Buddha's hand, pummelos, and fresh yuzu.

These days, we've learned that overnighting fresh ingredients from Italy and Japan can leave a big carbon footprint (oops), and so we all try to eat local. Having gained an appetite for variety and quality, we still demand it. Brooklyn hipsters "return to the land" to recreate heirloom varieties; college students intern on co-op farms; farmers markets spread like mint; Michael Pollan books sell by the bushel; and honestly, the technology for freezing many frozen vegetables has moved beyond the ice age. (Ha.) Schools are sprouting vegetable gardens and salad bars with the help of Michelle Obama's nutrition and physical activity coalition, "Let's Move." My mom and I now relish those "hippy lettuces" like frisee and watercress with sincere enthusiasm; I've even grown my own crops on a small urban deck, which my friend Dominy taught me is ridiculously cheap and easy.

In short, as a country we've gone from wanting our produce in a format that's convenient and clean, to wanting it as varied as it can be from around the world, to wanting it fresh, flavorful and local. In Paris in 2006, I think Dara, Gina and I were still in the second stage -- by definition, seeking the exotic -- and it was the element of that third stage that threw us.

There we were at Benoit, one of Alain Ducasse's casual bistros, and Dara's plate came with a side of spring garden vegetables. They arrived at the table nestled in a small, covered dish. He lifted the lid and out poured the aroma of my grandparents' garden when I was a small child discovering it for the first time. And of course, the warm, rich smell of French butter.

The vegetables were common -- carrots, spring onions and peas -- but they looked like jewels, shiny with butter and picked from the garden so small. Per our query, the waiter said they were simply steamed and then dressed with butter.

This weekend at the farmers market I found tiny, fresh carrots, fennel and zucchini. The size and aromas reminded me of that dinner, so I looked at the English translation of La Bonne Cuisine by de Madame E. Saint-Ange (Ten Speed Press, 2005) to make sure I honored them correctly. What Madame emphasized is the importance of drying the vegetables, so that you don't end up with vegetables that "exude greasy water onto guests' plates, and don't retain any seasoning, like something that has been washed." I must admit, that sounds familiar, so I took extra care, and also used the freshest butter.

REAL BABY VEGETABLES WITH GOOD BUTTER
Serves 4 but really 2

1 bunch small, thin, fresh carrots, no more than 5 inches long and 1/2 inch in diameter
1 bunch small, fresh baby fennel bulbs, about the same size
About 10 fresh baby zucchini, about the same length
2-3 tablespoons fresh unsalted butter**
Kosher salt
Fresh minced basil if desired

Trim the carrots and discard any green tops. Rub them briefly with kosher salt to smooth their skins, but don't peel them. Wash them and set them aside. Fill a medium pot with 1-2 inches of water; place a steamer insert in the and place it on the stove, covered, on medium-high heat. Make sure the water doesn't rise above the steamer insert, so it won't soak the vegetables and perturb Madame.

Trim the fennel bulbs so that you use only the pale green part at the base; if you like, mince just a bit of the frond, too, to reserve for garnish. Trim the zucchini and slice it lengthwise into halves, thirds or quarters, approximating the same size as the carrots.

Place the vegetables into the pot. Cover and steam. Shortly before the carrots are tender and you carefully drain the vegetables into a colander, place a medium skillet on high heat. After draining, place the vegetables in a single layer in the hot skillet. Grasp the handle with both hands, and shake the vegetables gently to release any more moisture they may be carrying. When they seem dry, pat them with small dots of butter and sprinkle them with salt as well as fennel frond garnish and/or fresh minced basil if desired. Using rubber-tipped tongs, gently toss and then serve.

*No, it wasn't a romantic threesome, OK? We were on our way to our friends' Anna and Jan's gorgeous, gorgeous wedding in Brussels.

**If you haven't thought about the taste of your butter in awhile, I recommend conducting a butter taste test so you can choose your household's brand preference. For this dish, you want to have the best possible butter, with no off taste. I used a local brand from my farmers market, but I also love the taste of local Tillamook butter and French Plugra.

Another Seasonal Favorite: The Bachelorette Party

May is not only an important month for morels and asparagus and such. It's also a time of year when thousands of women head out to celebrate their favorite toned and tanned bride-to-be by drinking cocktails and singing karaoke. I recently attended one such celebration for my 'Lil Sista, and two other parties were sharing our venue.

I like to imagine describing this custom to an alien, or perhaps a great grandmother: "Well, you see, the woman getting married is supposed to wear a veil -- not her wedding veil, just a cheap one with a plastic crown. This indicates to the public that she's about to get married, and that they may offer her congratulations or buy her a shot.

"It's also popular for the woman to wear pieces of candy on her body -- perhaps attached to her tank top or in the form of a necklace. This indicates to the young men on hand that that they may eat the candy. Doing so elicits giggles from all because it's a bit naughty, but not really naughty enough to make anyone nervous.

"Sometimes the members of the party will compete to do other funny, naughty things, such as dance with a red-headed man, or secure a pair of boxer shorts from a man under 24 years old. This provides an opportunity for the single women of the party to meet nice men themselves."

Anyway, my contribution to the party was to offer snacks when we came home -- grilled cheese sandwiches and Penis Cupcakes. The cupcakes are not really made out of penises but Devil's Food cake and chocolate-mint frosting. In place of jimmies, you can use fruit-flavored penis candies, available at your local erotic store. They do not complement the chocolate and mint very well, but at this point no one cares.

PENIS CUPCAKES

This is a Devil's Food cake recipe from Bon Appetit magazine, which I adapted slightly and halved. It has a great rich flavor and light texture.

Serves 16, but really 32 if everyone is on a diet and splits hers with a friend.

Melted unsalted butter

1 1/2 cups all purpose flour

3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder

3/4 teaspoon baking powder

3/4 teaspoon kosher salt

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1 3/4 cups sugar

1/2 cup + 2 teaspoons freshly brewed coffee, cooled to room temperature

1/2 cup + 2 teaspoons buttermilk

1/4 cup + 2 teaspoons vegetable oil

1 large egg

1 large egg yolk

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 325F. Lightly brush cupcake papers with melted butter and arrange in 2 muffin tins. Sift flour, cocoa, baking powder, salt and baking soda into a medium bowl. Combine sugar, coffee, buttermilk, oil, egg, egg yolk and vanilla in a large bowl or in the bowl of a standing mixer. Beat on medium speed until blended. Add dry ingredients. Beat on medium speed until blended, scraping bowl occasionally, about 4 minutes.

Spoon 1/4 cup better into prepared papers. Bake cupcakes until puffed and a tester comes out clean, about 24 minutes. Transfer cupcakes to a wire rack to cool completely. Frost with Chocolate-Mint frosting and top with erect penis candies. Serve to a group of tipsy women and hilarity will ensue.

For Chocolate-Mint Frosting:

1/2 cup whipping cream

3 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into pieces

1/2 pound chocolate-mint chips (you can also use milk chocolate or semi-sweet chocolate chips)

3/4 cup sour cream

Bring cream and butter to a simmer in a heavy large saucepan, whisking until butter melts. Remove from heat. Add chocolate and whisk until smooth. Add sour cream and whisk to blend. Refrigerate frosting until thick enough to spread, stirring occasionally, about 30 minutes.

BBQ Oysters with 3 Scrumptious Sauces

When I was a small child and could barely yet chew, I craved fried oysters with lemon juice and tartar sauce. My dad beams as he recounts how one Saturday morning in the '70s, his pigtailed three-year-old packed away two large orders of them. Perched on a booster seat in Fred Meyer's in-house restaurant, Eve's Buffet, she impressed the waitress and neighboring customers alike.

(Now articulating this in an age of concern about childhood obesity and food safety, I realize the image of a toddler gorging on deep-fried seafood from a discount variety store's buffet may strike you not as cute, but as sketchy. Nevertheless, it's a fond memory and marks the beginning of a wonderful deep-fried-food relationship with my dad.)

It wasn't until primary school or so that I was privy to oysters on the half shell -- how they arrive at the table cushioned in shaved ice and shells like shiny gray jewels. How they look and taste different, depending on factors like origin, variety and age. How they're dressed up with droplets of lemon juice, vinegar and hot sauce. How they slide coldly down your throat...first their brine, and then their chewy edges and their plump, flavorful mid-section. And how they can be leveraged to gross out people who are not as tasteful and sophisticated as you. Ha!

My future brother-in-law, Dan, has a different tradition: Getting local oysters at the source and cooking them in their shells on the barbecue, so they transform from shiny and jiggly to opaque and stout, and the flavor of fire augments that of the sea. We learned about this firsthand a couple of weeks ago when he led my Lil' Sista, husband Dara and me out to his family's favorite source, the Blau Oyster Company near Bow, Washington. There we dipped our toes in the Samish Bay and procured a large bag of small Pacifics.

Pacific oysters in this area are harvested and eaten year round. According to the folks at Blau, the Pacific oyster was introduced to Washington from Japan in the early 1920s, and it's hardier and better adapted to aquaculture than the native Olympia oyster, which had been depleted by over-harvesting. Blau raises its oysters in a hatchery, and the Seattle Aquarium notes that farm-raised oysters such as this are a "Best Choice" in terms of sustainability. (To justify our gas out to Bow, we explored the area for awhile and enjoyed the sunny day, making our errand into a day trip. I learned later that for busier days, we can also get bags of local oysters at our neighborhood farmers market in Ballard.)

Back at home, Dan manned a medium-heat barbecue. He simply threw whole oysters on it and cooked them until their shells opened, and then a bit more to fully warm them. He also tried shucking some of them, putting the loose oysters back into their bottom shell, placing their top shell on top, and putting this little package onto the grill. The second way seemed to work a bit better -- they cooked faster and it was easier to see what was going on inside.

Meanwhile Dara did one of his favorite things, which is concocting little dipping sauces and putting them in little ramekins. He whisked together a simple cocktail sauce, an Asian-inspired cocktail sauce with lots of freshly grated ginger, and a basic mignonette with finely diced shallot.

Lil' Sista made a salad of arugula, black beans, red pepper, scallions and avocado with lime dressing. I baked some popovers. Downing our dinner on the patio with cold pilsner, we marveled about the oyster...this squishy little creature with the capacity to give great joy.

BBQ OYSTERS

Buy small oysters in the shell and allow at least 12 per person. Heat a medium grill. Shuck oysters and reserve the tops of their shells. Place oysters in their bottom shells on the preheated grill. Put back on their top shells, and close the grill. BBQ for 10 minutes or until they're warm, a bit less jiggly, and are losing their sheen. I think that how long to cook them is subjective, but at the very least they should be warm and retain their briny flavor.

CLASSIC COCKTAIL SAUCE

Makes about 1 1/4 cups

1/2 cup ketchup

3 tablespoons mayonnaise

3 tablespoons grated horseradish

2-3 dashes Worcestershire sauce

1-2 dashes Louisiana-style hot sauce

Pinch salt

Whisk together ingredients and adjust to your own taste.

GINGER COCKTAIL SAUCE

Makes about 3/4 cup

1/2 cup ketchup

1 tablespoon Asian chili-garlic paste

1 1-inch piece of ginger, peeled and grated

Zest of 1 lime

Juice from 1/4 lime

2-3 dashes soy sauce

Whisk together ingredients and adjust to your own taste.

MIGNONETTE

Makes about 1/2 cup

1/2 cup red wine vinegar

1/2 teaspoon sugar

1 large shallot, finely minced

Pinch salt

Coarsely ground black pepper

Whisk together ingredients and adjust to your own taste.

POPOVERS

Adapted from Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything: Simple Recipes for Great Food (Wiley, 1998).

Makes 10-12.

1 tablespoon melted butter + more for greasing the tins

2 eggs

1 cup milk

1 teaspoon sugar

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 cup all-purpose flour

Preheat oven to 425 F. Butter a muffin tin or a popover tin* and place it in the oven while you make the batter. Beat together eggs, milk, butter, sugar and salt. Beat in the flour a little bit at a time, making sure the mixture is smooth. Fill the tins halfway. Place in the oven and bake for 15 minutes, then reduce heat to 350 F and continue baking 15 minutes more, or until the popovers are puffed and browned. (Do not check the popovers until they have baked for a total of 30 minutes.) Serve warm.

*Popover tins are available at Williams-Sonoma, Sur La Table and other speciality kitchen stores. I have one that I received as a gift, and the advantage is that it makes fewer yet taller and more dramatically puffy popovers. A muffin tin works great, though.

Moroccan Night

Here in Seattle we just had our friends Ryan and Angela over for dinner. Angela's a clever copywriter and Ryan is developing a top-secret video game at Microsoft. We see them regularly, but haven't lived in the same city since they moved from Chicago to Seattle several years ago.

The last time Ryan and Angela sampled my cooking was at a party at our place in 2000. Along with many other friends, they tried a tasty dish called Cat Hair Flatbread. Here's how you make it:

- Get the idea for a Hawaiian-themed party since it's February in Chicago.

- Steal a menu from Trader Vic's, buy a blow-up palm tree and some Martin Denny CDs, and make leis for everyone out of crepe paper.

- Develop a South Pacific fusion menu involving such key ingredients as pig, pineapple and coconut.

- Drink a mai tai while you're cooking and decide it would be funny to make the cat wear a crepe paper lei.

- I'm not really sure what happened after that, but somehow Fluffy's golden tendrils appeared on the Huli-Huli Chicken Flatbread. That was embarrassing. Other than that, it was a great party.

As you can now understand, I felt some pressure to make Ryan and Angela a nice dinner that didn't include any aspects of our two long-haired cats or Great Pyrenees. I decided on Morocco as inspiration, having recently rediscovered a Moroccan chicken recipe from Elephant's Delicatessen down in Portland. The recipe calls for cinnamon, red pepper flakes, turmeric, black pepper, cumin, paprika and sesame seeds, so it's a good excuse to buy DIY little bags of spices from the supermarket's bulk section and update your spice collection. I adapted it a bit, and also used the lovely Joanne Weir's From Tapas to Mezze (Ten Speed Press 2004) for side dish flavor inspiration.

Finally, I wanted to give the menu a seasonal Northwest aspect, and thought about a recent dinner Dara and I had at Jerry Traunfeld's Capitol Hill restaurant, Poppy. From a flavor perspective, what Chef Traunfeld does is really interesting: He uses Indian flavors with Northwest ingredients, including his signature healthy dose of fresh herbs. For example, as a condiment he served pickled rhubarb with fresh mint. The pickling spices tasted Indian, but the rhubarb and mint were fresh and local. I loved that!

The resulting Moroccan night menu included a first course of local steamer clams in a fresh fennel broth, followed by Moroccan chicken, all spicy and sweet with the aforementioned spices as well as green olives, dates and honey.

One side dish was stewed lentils with caramelized onions and golden raisins, served over couscous. The other was a salad of wild greens, shaved carrot and radish from the farmer's market combined with pink grapefruit segments and fresh mint and cilantro, all clothed in an aromatic swirl of lemon juice, olive oil and a few drops of orange blossom water.

We poured boiling water over mint leaves from the garden to make a tisane, and sipped a Washington Riesling. For dessert we had Lazy Baklava, which means filling frozen phyllo shells with a mixture of chopped, toasted walnuts and cinnamon-cardamom syrup. Sticky as it was, it gathered no cat hair. And Fluffy did not have to wear a fez.

MOROCCAN CHICKEN

Serves 4

3/4 cup pimento-stuffed green olives

1/2 cup dates, seeded

3/4 cup honey, divided

1/2 cup lemon juice

1/2 bunch fresh cilantro

1 tablespoon kosher salt, divided

1 tablespoon black pepper, divided

2 tablespoons ground cumin

2 tablespoons sweet paprika

2 tablespoons sesame seeds

1 tablespoon ground cinnamon

1 tablespoon red pepper flakes

1 tablespoon turmeric

4 pounds bone-in chicken parts

Lime wedges

Finely dice olives and dates, and toss with 2 tablespoons honey, lemon juice, cilantro, 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1/8 teaspoon pepper. Refrigerate, covered, until ready to use. Combine remaining honey, salt and pepper in a large bowl with cumin, paprika, sesame seeds, cinnamon, red pepper flakes and turmeric. Add chicken parts and toss to coat. Cover and refrigerate for 5 hours or overnight, tossing occasionally.

Heat a grill to medium heat. Place chicken on the grill and brush with excess marinade. Grill chicken parts until golden and juices run clear. Top hot chicken with cold olive-date tapenade and serve with lime wedges on the side.

LENTILS & COUSCOUS

Serves 4-6

1 cup dry lentils, preferably the small black French type

2 bay leaves

1 2-inch piece of lemon peel

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt + more

1 clove garlic, minced

1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil

1 medium yellow onion, peeled and sliced

1/2 cup golden raisins, minced

1 box plain couscous

Pick over the lentils and discard any stones. Place lentils in a large saucepan and cover with water by 2 inches. Add bay leaves, lemon peel, salt and garlic, and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce heat to low and simmer 20-30 minutes, until lentils are just tender. Meanwhile, heat olive oil in a skillet and cook onion on low heat, stirring occasionally, until caramelized. Sprinkle onions with a touch of salt and toss with golden raisins. Cook couscous according to package directions, and top or gently toss with lentils and onions. Serve.

SHAVED CARROT & RADISH SALAD WITH PINK GRAPEFRUIT

Serves 4-6

1 large pink grapefruit

Juice of 1/2 lemon

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

1 teaspoon orange flower water

2 teaspoons sugar

Salt and pepper

2 medium carrots, peeled and cut into paper-thin slices

10 red radishes, trimmed and cut into paper-thin slices

1 cup baby arugula or mesclun mix

1 tablespoon minced fresh cilantro

1 tablespoon minced fresh mint

Use a small sharp knife to slice the tops and bottoms off the grapefruit, and then the peel from all sides, cutting so that you don't see the membrane any more and just see the flesh. Cut each segment from the grapefruit, leaving the membrane. Cut each segment in half and set aside.

In a large bowl, whisk together the lemon juice, olive oil, orange flower water and sugar. Add salt and pepper to taste. Add grapefruit and remaining ingredients, toss and serve.

LAZY BAKLAVA

Serves 4-6

12 frozen mini phyllo cups

3/4 cup walnuts

1/4 cup honey

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

1/8-1/4 teaspoon cardamom (to taste)

Toast walnuts in a preheated 350F oven for 6-9 minutes, until fragrant and golden. Chop roughly and combine with honey and spices. Fill phyllo cups and serve.

Seasonal Milestones

Regarding the point made in my last post -- it's a large question that will take some time to answer. In the meantime, this blog is something I'm eager to do right away. Its intent is to address a frequent topic of discussion between my Midwest-raised husband and Northwest-raised me: the seasonal milestones and celebrations I was exposed to as a child, both in the garden and in the kitchen. Let me tell you, there were many!

Backing up for a moment, I should explain that my parents are Extremely enthusiastic about marking events through each year with celebration. By this I don't mean they hang excessive holiday decorations, or that my mom wears spooky skeleton sweatshirts and pumpkin earrings for Halloween. I'm talking more about gardening and cooking-related events that celebrate the very holy Bounty of the Northwest.

When I was a child, I loved this. And as a young adult living on the East Coast and the Midwest, I would nostalgically and reverently expound on the events to my new husband, using the big eyes and widespread fingers and mythical tone usually reserved for fairy tales.

Here is a typical conversation early in our relationship, when we lived in Washington, DC in the mid-90s:

Molly: "Turn down the Snoop Dogg, I have something important to tell you! It's early June, nearly time for local strawberries! And you know what that means: The annual Strawberry Shortcake Dinner!"

Dara: "What in the hizzo?"

Molly: "You know, the dinner where all we eat is homemade strawberry shortcake and nothing else, because local strawberries are so red and juicy and flavorful and succulent! Oh God, oh God, I can't wait!"

Dara: "Wow, you sound all lusty about strawberries -- like our friend Monica talking about the president!"

(Ha, I made up that last part. We actually didn't know Monica Lewinsky, though she and we were at the same New Year's Eve party in 1997 or so, due to the fact she was my co-worker's roommate's friend. DC is small like that.)

These exchanges often ended in sadness. Strawberries sampled, I would conclude it's "just not the same" on the East Coast...or in the Midwest, where we moved in 1999.

Now we live in Seattle -- as of three weeks ago! This is the moment for which I've been waiting. May 2010 is the time to begin re-experiencing and expanding on my family's traditions, and to discover whether a veil of nostalgia has colored my memories, or whether this Bounty of the Northwest lives up to the legend. Here we go.

But What Should I Do?

It's an opportunity we all have, sort of. "Do what you want. You spend more time working than sleeping, so make it something you love."

But things get in the way. The need to pay for tuition, rent or a mortgage; compromises and negotiations with those you love; a sense of practicality and a fear of risk. And you migrate toward a safe route where you learn a lot and pay that mortgage. Meanwhile you know deep down that you're passionate, but not about this; that you're energetic and smart, and you want to harness those qualities for your own passions rather than others'.

What if you had a fresh start at age 36? What if you quit your job and moved to a new city, and you and your loved one agreed that you often have good ideas, and you should do "what you want." Easy words to say, and now I need to figure out what they mean.