Being back in Sydney for a week now, I’m having to get my head around lots of things: balmy weather, the unintelligible accents, summer school (yeah, I’m really doing that, which explains why I’m not doing this more often), no NFL playoffs on TV (hell, no TV at all!), and no one to share in my shortlisting madness.

I’ve written before about my dad’s short listing, so there’s no need to get into it here. It’s pretty obvious the man and I think (but thankfully don’t spell – love you, dad!) alike. We plan things, we mull them over, for days. Not obsessively, but creatively. We like to have thought things through.

These days, friends are still coming over for dinner but nothing is planned. Last night, Francesco made cauliflower and saffron pasta, while our friends brought a gorgeous cheese plate and dessert (which we were too tired to eat [thanks, four-month-old baby!]). We were too over it to even make them a salad. There was no shortlist. There was no planning. It was an unglamorous evening saved only by the fact that our friends are good ones and our baby’s cuteness masks most other deficiencies.

Though there’s something to be said for having people over for dinner despite sleep deprivation and seriously needing to do some Public Law readings, it was nowhere in the vicinity of what my dad produces after having put just one ounce of thought into it. The above shortlist, which he wrote on a dinner napkin the night before, hides the intricate division of labor between him (lamb, roast potatoes), my mother (salad, cheese) and me (labne, chips, bread, pasta, tart). Sometimes, if the meal requires, his shortlists will even include a play by play, complete with little reminders (example: rub: panko, garlic)

The below shortlist is in my own hand, and evidences even more of a collaboration, this time between him (beef tenderloin, cream sauce, spinach), me (bread, tiramisu), Francesco (pasta) and my mother (salad, cheese). It also showcases another of his exquisite meat dishes complete with one of his cream sauces: one might be a combination of stock made from the trimmings of the meat on serve, which he reduces and mixes with a cream-garlic reduction, whatever spices suit, and perhaps some port or brandy. The stuff of legend.

I could go on and on about this but it’s getting late and my sleeping hours are incredibly numbered. It seems as though I’ll have to wait another year to feel the comfort of my fellow shortlister, probably the one who is to blame for all of this, scratching out tomorrow night’s dinner on tonight’s napkin, thinking and planning, and always having people over for dinner.

Every few years, my parents throw an all-out, champagne fluting, gown wearing, music blasting, slightly glam and always soaked New Year’s Eve party. No matter where else I’ve been, I’ve always found New Year’s parties disappointing. It’s the one night of the year where everyone must have fun. According to popular belief, if you’re not celebrating there’s either something wrong with you or you’re a police officer taking advantage of some serious overtime benefits. But too often in my experience New Year’s Eve means freezing one’s ass off, drinking too much, a regrettable kiss, and a wholly forgettable evening. (It has also, on occasion, involved aforementioned police, eager to prove they are worth the overtime, searching (futilely, I should add) my car and person for drugs; friends stuck in the drunk tank; lots of throwing up; and falling asleep by 11 pm.) My parents’ party is refreshing for several reasons: 1. we don’t have to drive anywhere 2. a huge variety of people show up 3. the food is incredible.

On top of a myriad of appetizers, any given year we may do more substantial (but always napkin-portable) dishes like Peking duck breast with hoisin in handheld wraps or mini crab cakes dolloped with creme fraîche. This year, enveloped by the (what turned out to be crazy) fear that we did not have enough food, we served, on top of a million little extras, tuna sashimi, homemade gravlax in endive, Australian lamb chop lollipops, grilled flank steak with chilli sauce in lettuce cups, and – for many the star of the show – venison meatballs.

As my mother refuses to offer her guests plates on December 31st, meatballs – the perfect toothpick food – have always been on hand for the party. Regular old meatballs, though, do not fit into my father’s idea of what New Year’s Eve should be: glamorous, glittering and lavish. (He famously told one of his best friends year after year that jumbo shrimp were too mundane for NYE. This year, said friend brought them anyway, and they were gone in minutes.) Venison and an earthy cream sauce would add that je ne sais quoi to lift the meatballs above the spaghetti. And thanks to my uncle Matty, who hunts deer with a bow and arrow, venison is never scarce around these parts.

raw little goddesses

Through a lucky combination of snobbery and skill, these meatballs have become one of the New Year’s party guests of honor, a reliable repeat after being completely wiped out the first year they made an appearance. Some friends have been known to stand around the kitchen, toothpick in hand, awaiting their arrival. This year for the first time, and probably due to the sheer number of other offerings, some venison meatballs survived until the next day (when they were, in my opinion, even better).

When asked for the recipe in the past, my dad would answer honestly that he forgot, like most things that happened on the last day of December. So this year I followed him around, recording approximations of measurements and ingredients. And thus, I present to you a recipe very close to Jim’s famous venison meatballs. Which, I think, are good enough to merit your attention all year round. And fancy enough to help you celebrate no matter the occasion.

VENISON MEATBALLS

All measurements here are approximations, especially when it comes to the sauce. The recipe can easily be reduced by 2/3rds (so you use only 1 onion, 1 lb of venison, 1/2 lb of sausage, 1 egg, etc.) to make for a delicious dinner for 4 to 6. If you can’t find all the ingredients (red currant jelly is available from Trappist at Christmas Tree Shops for those of you in the Boston area!), don’t worry…these meatballs are just begging you to make them your own. Makes for relatively easy clean up since you make the sauce in the meatball pan, then cook everything together in the oven. Makes a ton and will keep (and even improve) for a few days in the fridge.

MEATBALLS

3 onions, minced

3 tablespoons butter

a bit of white wine

allspice & nutmeg

1 1/2 lbs plain pork sausage

3 lbs ground venison

3 eggs

1 cup milk (approx)

350 – 450 grams (about 1 container) bread crumbs (panko work well)

salt and pepper

olive oil

SAUCE

1 shallot, minced

2 tablespoons butter

1/2 cup port

1/2 cup red wine

1/2 cup beef stock

2 cups heavy cream

2 cloves garlic, crushed

3 tablespoons red currant jelly

4 -5 juniper berries

To begin making the meatballs, have all your ingredients are room temperature. Over med-low heat, saute the minced onion in ample butter, keeping the heat low so that it doesn’t darken or brown, for about 15 minutes or until completely softened. Add a big glug of white wine and about 1 tsp each of ground allspice and nutmeg. Cook down until no liquid remains. Set aside to cool slightly.

In a very large bowl, mix the meat, eggs, and cooled onions with your hands. Alternate adding milk and breadcrumbs, mixing gently. Add salt and pepper. Do not over-handle the mixture or it will become tough. Gently and without squeezing, form the meat mixture into bite-sized balls and set on baking trays to await frying. You may want to turn on the radio or something before you start.

Once all the balls have been formed, preheat the oven to 300F/150C. You’re going to make your sauce in the same pot after you fry the balls, so don’t worry if some meat sticks to the bottom. You may also want to have your shallot already chopped. Add ample olive oil to cover the bottom of a very large flat-bottomed high-sided ovenproof pot, and heat over med-high heat. Fry the meatballs in batches, adding more olive oil as necessary to keep the bottom of the pan coated. Do not overcrowd them. Once they are browned on one side, turn them to fry them on the other then remove, re-coat pan with olive oil and add the next batch.

Once you’ve fried your meatballs, make the sauce by throwing in the chopped shallot to the pan you used to fry the meatballs. Fry on medium for a few minutes, then add the port, turn up heat and reduce liquid by half. Then add the red wine and beef stock and reduce liquid by half. Meanwhile, in a small pot, gently warm the heavy cream with the crushed garlic; once red wine and beef stock have reduced, add the cream and garlic mixture to the pot and continue reducing. Add a few hearty tablespoons of red currant jelly, a few juniper berries and some salt and pepper to taste while the sauce continues to boil down until your desired consistency.

Once the sauce is the consistency you’d like it, throw the meatballs back into the pot, cover it, and stick it in the oven for an hour. Serve hot with crusty bread, rice, mashed potatoes, whatever delicious starch you want to soak up the awesome.

Dad and Angela GENTLY making meatballs!

]]> http://theshortlists.wordpress.com/2012/01/06/venison-meatballs/feed/ 2 theshortlists DSC01978 DSC01972 gently formed!! meatballs DSC01974 DSC01977 http://theshortlists.wordpress.com/2011/12/24/pumpkin-bread/ http://theshortlists.wordpress.com/2011/12/24/pumpkin-bread/#comments Fri, 23 Dec 2011 16:23:13 +0000 Leanne http://theshortlists.wordpress.com/?p=3420 ]]>  

Every year around the holidays I give away baked goods. It’s not an original idea, I know, but it’s a surefire way to make people happy while avoiding the hullabaloo of the “giving” season. Don’t get me wrong: I love giving presents just as much as I love receiving them. I just don’t love the stressful things that often accompanies gifting: the malls, the sales, the wrapping, the pressure, the credit card bills at the end of the month.

Last year, my gift of choice was cookies. Lots and lots and lots of cookies. This year, due to an unmanageable amount of bananas (some of which were used for scrumptious banana tartes tartin, blog coming soon), I made mini loaves of banana bread stuffed with chocolate and dried cranberries. When two batches didn’t make quite enough, I decided to take advantage of the joys of canned pumpkin while it’s still available and make pumpkin bread. I found a recipe  (by Googling “pumpkin bread” and clicking on the first thing that came up) that (4,976) people seemed to enjoy and tweaked it a bit. It was so delicious that I ended up making another 3-loaf batch just for us, to give us a reason to get out of bed in the morning. (Not that it tempts my brother to get out of bed before 2:30pm.) As of today, we’ll have family and guests swirling in and out for the next few weeks, and this pumpkin bread is the perfect thing to have on hand for breakfast or tea. (I’m not banking on my Italian in-laws trying sweetened pumpkin without a little encouragement, so, at the very least, there will be more for me.)

One thing I love about this pumpkin bread is that it’s not too sweet. The moistness is there, the slight spice, but the cloying quality of store-bought breakfast loaves is happily missing. It’s not the pumpkiniest of pumpkin breads, and that could mean many things. Some people may not love sweet pumpkin. Those people may not be worthy of your generosity, of course, but this is the season of giving after all. If you give it to them, they might just give it back. For those who love pumpkin in cakes and pies and other sweets, you’ll be remembered as a gift giving god. No useless gadgets or trinkets from you…just the promise of a little sweetness in a season when saccharine abounds.

PUMPKIN BREAD

Makes 2 large loaves. You can, of course, pour the batter into whatever baking dish you like. Feel free to substitute some of the spices: if you love ginger, cardamom, allspice or nutmeg, they’d all work wonderfully here. This bread only improves after a day or two.

1 (15 ounce) can pumpkin puree

4 eggs

1 cup vegetable oil

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 1/2 cups white sugar

3 1/2 cups flour

2 teaspoons baking soda

1 1/2 teaspoons salt

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice

1 cup chocolate chips or chunks (optional)

1 cup dried cranberries or raisins (optional)

Preheat oven to 350F/180C. Prepare baking tins by greasing liberally. In a large bowl, mix the pumpkin, eggs, oil, vanilla and sugar with a whisk until combined. In another bowl, mix the flour, baking soda, salt and spices. Add the flour mixture to the pumpkin mixture and gently stir with a wooden spoon until just combined. Add the chocolate and cranberries if using, stir to combine. Pour the batter into the prepared pans. (Fill pans only 3/4 full as the batter will rise.) If using two loaf tins, bake about 50 – 65 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted comes out clean. Cool completely before wrapping for gifts.

In preparation from our two-month stay, my mother stocked up on mascarpone. And by stocked up, I mean she purchased all the mascarpone this side of the Atlantic. To her credit, the packages promise that the cheese won’t go bad until late next year; and, mascarpone is simple and versatile – you can use it in pastas or sweets. But how we’ll possibly go through like 12 pounds of the stuff is beyond me. (Well, maybe not completely beyond me…see here, here and here.)

The other day, in an effort to make a dent in the mascarpone supply, we decided to make a tiramisù.  Thing is – and don’t hold this against me – I’m not a huge fan of traditional tiramisù. I find the mascarpone-raw egg yolk mixture too heavy and sloppy, and the rest of it, the coffee and sugar, too sweet and musty. I’d always dreamed of a version with some life in it, with something fresh and sharp to cut through the cream, and a bit of crunch to cut through the goop. And so a berry chocolate tiramisù was born.

I realize that I’m not the first to dream this up. It’s been done, I got that. But I didn’t get how easy and delicious it would be. Rather than bothering with all those egg yolks, I just mixed some heavy cream and sugar in the mascarpone. Berries cooked down in a little orange juice substituted the coffee to soak the lady fingers with and big chunks of dark chocolate added the crunch I craved.

I served it for a dinner party the day I made it, and, though it would have benefited from an overnight in the fridge, no one complained. Even Francesco, who called it a “trifle” because it was too far from his beloved classic tiramisù, gobbled it down and kept checking the fridge for one last piece someone may have hidden in the back. Alas, no luck. We’ll just have to make it again.

BERRY CHOCOLATE TIRAMISÙ

This is best made the day before serving. Serves 12 – 14.

1 bag frozen mixed berries (about 2 cups, or substitute with fresh)

juice of 1 orange (about 1/3 cup)

1 16-oz. tub mascarpone

3/4 cup heavy cream

2/3 cup powdered sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 pints of blueberries or raspberries or blackberries or a mix

about 1/2 package ladyfingers (savoiardi biscuits)

dark chocolate, in small chunks or shards

To begin, put the orange juice and frozen berries in a saucepan and cook over medium heat until the berries have mostly lost their shape and the sauce forming begins to thicken. Taste the berries and, if needed, add a bit of sugar or liquor (anything fruity) to taste.

Meanwhile, in a large bowl, beat the mascarpone, heavy cream, powdered sugar and vanilla with electric beater for a few minutes.

Once the mascarpone mixture and the berries are ready, prepare your dessert: in a rectangular serving dish with high sides, arrange a layer of ladyfingers, breaking them to fit the dish if necessary. Spoon about 1/2 of the cooked berry mixture on top, spreading evenly. Evenly sprinkle half of the chocolate chunks, then half of the mascarpone mixture on top. Repeat, arranging another layer of ladyfingers, then pouring the remaining cooked berries on top,* then most of the remaining chocolate, then all of the mascarpone. Finish by arranging the fresh berries on top and sprinkling whatever chocolate you have left.
Refrigerate for at least 6 hours; remove from the fridge about 1 hour before serving in small square slices.

*You want to make sure the ladyfingers are doused in enough liquid, otherwise they will be dry (as mine was). If the berries didn’t give off enough or you cooked it down too much, you can add a few sprinkles of orange juice or liquor, or just cook more berries.

Settling into life in my parents’ house means getting used to a flat-screen television, living in a house that’s about 5 times the size of ours, and having free reign in a chef’s kitchen. Stella, for her part, hasn’t even mustered the willpower to make a coo before someone scoops her up. Francesco finds it equally as challenging, what with his own private study and did I mention there’s a flat-screen television? Yeah, well, there’s also someone (my dad) willing to watch Justified and Person of Interest with him. So, though some may cringe at the thought of spending two straight months with family, we’re doing just fine.

One highlight of coming home is that someone else does, occasionally, make dinner. Both of my parents are talented cooks in different ways, but both relish not having to cook for others every night. Needless to say, their daily salad-and-cheese-plate routine changes when we roll into town. Requests are the norm – duck breasts with a brandy cream sauce? venison loin in a juniper rub? – and inspire many a cognac-capped night. Most of my requests are things I could make, if pressed. But I personally think a brandy cream sauce tastes better when you don’t have to reduce the cream yourself.

One of the simplest dishes I ask my mother make when we come home is fish en croûte: a few fillets of hake, halibut or salmon topped with sauteed mushrooms and spinach then baked in a buttery puff pastry shell. It’s served in thick slices and presents beautifully for guests or grown children who no longer refuse things like mushrooms, spinach and fish.

Fish en croûte is one of those things that I love to eat but never actually make. Of course I could make it myself. But somehow it’s better when my mom does it. Kind of like brandy cream sauce. And laundry.

FISH EN CROÛTE

Depending on the size of your fish, one of these puppies should feed about 4. It never hurts to make two in one go! 

1 large or 2 smaller equal size fillets of salmon, cod, hake or similar fish, completely de-boned and de-skinned (about 1/2 lb (250 g)  fish per person)

1 large bag fresh baby spinach

about 2 cups mushrooms (baby portobello, white, oyster, etc.)

2 sheets good-quality all-butter puff pastry, defrosted

egg for egg wash and sesame seeds, optional

Preheat the oven to 400F/200C. Wilt the spinach in a large pot, then, when it’s cool enough to touch, squeeze as much liquid out as possible; set aside. Meanwhile, saute the mushrooms in butter over medium heat for about 10-15 minutes, or until cooked through. Season both spinach and mushrooms with a little salt and pepper.

Arrange the fillets of fish skin-side down so that it is of even thickness throughout, in the middle of one of the sheets of puff pastry. Top with spinach and mushrooms. (You can also place the spinach and mushrooms on the pastry first, then arrange the fish on top.) Place the other sheet of puff pastry on top, and seal the two layers together, tucking the overhanging pastry under. If you want, you can make an egg wash by beating an egg in a small bowl and brushing it over the top of the puff pastry, then sprinkle with sesame or poppy seeds.

Bake in preheated oven for about 25 minutes: the puff pastry should be fully cooked and brown on top. If you got a super thick piece of fish, cook for 5 extra minutes just to be safe. Let sit for 5 minutes before serving. Enjoy!

Rather than give you a detailed account of each of November’s highlighted shortlist-documented dinners, I think it’d be best to point out the themes. Because A. I’m typing with one hand and B. boy, were there themes! I thought wanting to eat the same thing everyday was a symptom of pregnancy but apparently I’m forevermore afflicted with an unshakable desire for pasta. Preferably the same pasta over and over until someone either runs from the dining room crying or we all start to develop vitamin deficiencies.

Earlier in the month my pasta of choice was anything smothered in ragù. Just goes to show you can never overdo a true classic. (Right?!) The first shortlist up there, from the meal that started me on my ragù spiral, was a dinner for 8 or 9 people, all of whom were squeezed into our too-small, over-heated house. So my intention to satisfy with a hearty meal – cooked on the stove all day – ended up causing us all to break out in sweats. Didn’t stop me, though, from pulling out my old party trick once landed safely in Boston, where overheating in November is not a possibility.

Another MVP this month was the just blogged about pesto di pistacchi. We’ve served it twice in Sydney and twice in Boston. My poor father, a man who hates going to work without leftovers for lunch, ended up eating spaghetti with pistachio pesto for four meals in a row, which lead to this priceless nugget of information: pistachios may or may not be diuretics.

On the dessert front, I tripled up with both the incredible triple chocolate mocha caress cookies (to be blogged about shortly and come from Brenna, our dear guest blogger and fellow dessert lover) and banana tartes tartin (which taste just as good as they sound, and will be gushed about soon).

If you see something on a shortlist that you’re curious about (bhartha, perhaps, or roasted bone marrow) let me know and I’ll be happy to oblige. There was so much deliciousness this month, that I have a backlog of recipes to share. But the deliciousness elsewhere, in the form of pudgy little thighs and burgeoning double chins, has been the biggest distraction of all.

This is one of those things I was totally expecting to hate. I mean, it’s nearly entirely made of nuts. And nuts and I, for reasons unexplained, have never been friends. As of late, however, I’ve been enjoying in moderation certain nut-related things; so, when presented with linguine doused in this pistachio pesto, I gave it an enthusiastic whirl.

And you know what? It was super great. Like, surprisingly delicious. Nutty, yet….good. Edible nut-based food that I really enjoyed. Obviously words are failing me. The point is: this is tasty stuff. Plus, it’s a lil bit fancy while being the easiest thing since throwing grated cheese and butter on your noodles and calling it a day (which we did yesterday for lunch).

I’m making this tonight for dinner and am a little nervous my flavor-loving father will find it too subtle. It’s not exactly as wham-bam as some pastas we know and love – it’s special. I think it’ll be the perfect starter for a subtle main course (tonight’s: magret de canard) when you don’t want to mask delicate flavors with a first course exploding with tomato sauce or spiciness or cheeseapalooza.

And since our two-month-old was up at 6 am ready to boogie, something easy to throw together is high on my list of priorities. To make pistachio pesto, all you do is grind together pistachios, olive oil, Parmesan and orange juice – orange juice! That’s it. You just plop everything in the food processor – or, in my case, a manual Chop-It – and voilà! Magic delicious nut pesto! Orange juice on pasta! Everyone is shocked and everyone is happy.

PISTACHIO PESTO

Thanks, Cristina, for introducing us to this great recipe, which I’ve found conveniently converted to our measurements at La Cucina italiana Magazine. The first time I made it myself, I felt that something was lacking, so the second time I upped the amount of orange juice and it got two even more enthusiastic thumbs up (my changes are reflected below). Makes enough for a pound (500 grams) of pasta, or about 6 first course or 4 main course servings. If you don’t use it all, it will keep in the fridge for a week or so.

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil

1/3 cup orange juice

120 grams / 3/4 cup pistachios (de-shelled)

1/4 cup finely grated Parmesan

In the bowl of a food processor combine all the ingredients. Pulse to combine and season with salt and pepper to taste. Done!

N.B.: My photos show a much less creamy pesto than what you will get if you use a food processor, so don’t think you’ve screwed up if yours doesn’t look like mine: creamy is good!

For pasta, use long pasta such as spaghetti or linguine. Boil pasta until al dente, then drain and toss together with pesto and a pad of butter or so

me extra olive oil, stirring over low heat for a minute to bring everything together. Serve with extra whole pistachios on top if desired.

From my little turkey to your whole flock.

In a few short days, we’ll be boarding a plane that will whisk us away to the US. Back to the land of custard-filled cornbread, pumpkin pie and deep-fried pickles. Are we nervous about taking a 6-week-old on a 24+ hour trip halfway across the world? Actually, we haven’t really thought about it. Just kidding. But seriously, what good will worrying do? We’ll just pack 45 or so diapers and a few dozen extra onesies, and hope for the best.

One thing I wish I could bring? Some of these bars. Because though we can’t control turbulence, air pressure and that funky smell coming from the row behind, we can control our hunger. And I cannot be hungry on that plane. Because, as the famously sage Gisele Bündchen said: “If I honour my needs first, I will be the best wife, the best mom, the best sister, the best friend. I have to come first, because then everyone benefits.”

I HAVE TO COME FIRST. I mean, obviously, right? No, no, silly baby! You seem to be confused. I come first. Your insatiable appetite and dirty diaper? They’ll just have to wait while I satisfy my pressing needs which include, but are not limited to, watching Bad Teacher, requesting another bloody mary, and reading the in-flight magazine for the seventh time.

Joking aside, if I hadn’t already eaten all of these bars they would be first on my do-not-even-think-of-forgetting list (followed by the 45 diapers and all the onesies I can fit into a carry on). They are so good, so perfect, they’d easily make up for whatever slodge the airline provides and allow a refueled me to attend to pressing (but secondary – right, Gisele?) needs, those of my newborn child.

Maybe, just maybe, I’ll find the time between polishing my nails and keeping up with the latest on the Kardashian divorce saga to make these bars again before we go. My baby will be so grateful.

BROWN SUGAR CINNAMON BARS

Recipe adapted from one posted on Gimme Some Oven, where they are rightfully labeled addictive. Makes about 20 bars, or enough to keep you happy for about 4 days if you don’t share. I substituted chopped dried figs as I ran out of raisins. Do whatever floats your boat!

2 cups flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon (it’s more than you think you should add, but just do it!)

1/4 teaspoon nutmegg

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 cups packed light-brown sugar

2 eggs

1/2 cup (1 stick / 115 grams) butter, softened

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 apple, diced (about 1 cup)

3/4 cup raisins (or equivalent of chopped figs or prunes)

Heat oven to 350F/180C. Grease a rectangular baking pan.

In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, cinnamon, nutmg and salt; set aside.

In a large bowl, with an electric mixer blend together sugar, eggs, butter and vanilla for a few minutes until smooth. Reduce speed and gradually add flour mixture; mix for 2 minutes or until just incorporated. Stir in diced apples and raisins and spread (or spoon) into prepared pan.

Bake in the preheated oven for 30-35 minutes or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool completely before cutting (unless you want shaggy-shaped bars!). Keep in an air-tight container.

Here I am keeping up with my shortlisting! This one was a dinner I threw together with one hand (I have a 6-week-old) and half a brain. The tart? Made with store-bought puff pastry (see below for recipe). The pistachio pasta? Dead easy (as you’ll see when I post about it soon). The bread pudding, I’m only half-embarrassed to admit, I’d made earlier and frozen for just such an occasion: when the fridge is empty, I’m out of sugar, and people are coming over in a few hours.

You may be asking yourself why we have people over if there’s nothing to eat in the house but pasta, we are leaving in one week for a two-month long trip to the States, and – oh yeah! – we have a newborn!

For one, we like it. Also? It’s a way to make sure we don’t become the kind of people who have a kid and never see anyone else ever again. (Though I must admit I finally get the appeal of being a stay at home parent, if only for a little while.) Plus,  Francesco firmly believes that even if we have no time/energy/funds to go grocery shopping, pasta is always enough. I hope the people who are coming for dinner tonight agree!

PEAR GORGONZOLA TART

1 sheet store-bought puff pastry

1 – 2 large pears, sliced very thinly

1 large piece gorgonzola dolce (or another blue cheese)

honey

Defrost puff pastry and gently stretch on a greased cookie tin. Preheat oven to 400F/200C. Arrange pear slices evenly in an overlapping pattern on dough. Add salt and pepper. Sprinkle evenly with gorgonzola pieces, reserving some to sprinkle on at the end. Bake in preheated oven for 20 minutes or so, until the dough is fully cooked.

Drizzle honey and remaining cheese over before serving. You can use some fresh thyme as a garnish.