I’ve learned a lot about the science of food over the past 8 or so years. I studied the chemistry behind the individual molecules that physically make up different foods to the metabolic reactions that happen in our bodies to digest food. Food science was fascinating to me – the idea that I can take raw, whole, natural ingredients, add some heat and maybe a few things like fat, acid, salt, or sugar, and in return I get something far greater than what all those raw ingredients could have ever dreamed of being to begin with.
I’m not the kind of person who hosts brunch. Do real people actually host brunch? I’m almost convinced hosting brunch is an invention of social media to make us all feel bad that we’re not having an intimate group of friends over for bloody marys (which I don’t drink) and fancy bagels with lox and capers (which I don’t like). Even if I didn’t have the cutest 8 month old nugget hindering my brunch dreams with his 6 am wake-up call, I need food way before the brunch hour finally moseys in. Hosting breakfast… now that I could get behind!
One of my main goals with From Her Kitchen is to give you ideas that are real. Real ideas that you actually want to make. For your real family. On a real weeknight that’s more than likely real-ly busy. I want to give you recipes that are customizable because picky eaters happen, whether they are in the form of tiny humans or adult-sized humans. I want to give you recipes that can easily be made vegetarian because that’s the number two question I get right behind, “What do you feed your family?” I want to give you recipes that don’t have any crazy ingredients because not everyone can buy mascarpone cheese, preserved lemons, or sumac.
The first time I tried sushi I was 22 years old. Considering I had decided I wanted to be a chef at the age of 16, this is surprising, right?. Do they even let people into culinary arts school that have never had sushi? I can just hear Gordon Ramsay now, “You’ve NEVER had SUSHI!?!?! The delectable culinary masterpiece of Japan?!? And you want to be a CHEF??! That’s preposterous – GET OUT OF MY KITCHEN!!!” Because even if Gordon Ramsay actually had a culinary arts school, I could get into it in maybe a million years. If I was lucky. Ha!
On this Easter Eve, chances are pretty good that you have a fridge full of hard boiled eggs. Whether the kids in your family share a dozen to dye or each get their own individual dozen (yes this really happens in my family!), you (presumably the adult in this situation) are not only in charge of figuring out how to get a vinegary robin egg blue stain off your white counter top but also how to consume the evening’s fun art project that is indeed edible.
What you’re looking at right here is a Plan B. Not that there’s anything wrong with a Plan B, it’s just not a Plan A. Plan A was going to be BEA-U-TI-FUL!! It was going to be delicate and pastel-colored and bursting with so much Easter cheer that you just couldn’t help but take the giant project on of actually producing one yourself. Giant project yes, and also a giant flop. Sigh… So I had to come up with a Plan B. While I was cleaning up the also giant mess of Plan A, I could only think of one thing – SIMPLIFY.
Yeah sure, the goal for Plan A was to break Instagram with the millions of likes I would get (ha!), but I’m not sure anyone would realistically make Plan A. I probably wouldn’t. So here’s Plan B. It’s delicate and delicious, has a pop of color, and is, most importantly, simplified. You could make this. Easily. I promise.
I’m going to keep this fairly simple because these almonds are fairly simple. They don’t really need my fancy words to talk them up to convince you to make them. I figure they do this all on their own with that beautifully bronzed coating of crispy caramel you see up there. You can hear them crunch just by looking at the picture!!
Are calzones authentic? I know I could just google this and probably find out from a surprisingly-factual wikipedia page, but I’m curious if anyone knows off the top of their head? No? I definitely know pizza is Italian (duh), and there are definitely rules to make correct Italian pizza. Then the Americans came in and started changing those rules, and we ended up with New York-style pizza, Chicago deep dish pizza, thin and crispy pizza, California Pizza Kitchen, and probably asparagus calzones. I guess I should look it up.
So why didn’t I just make asparagus pizza bursting with spring flavor instead of these? Because look at that CALZONE up there! That glowing golden brown with a slight salt and pepper crust? Pizza can do a lot of things, but it can’t have that beautiful top crust that you’re looking at up there. And I think calzones are fun – they’re dip-able and fairly portable. They also reheat really well. And Nathan likes calzones, so me being the nice wife that I am, you get calzones today instead of pizza.
I realize I’m a little late with this, but here it is anyway… Happy Spring! It’s been a while. My parents came to visit for a few days, and like the fabulous planner that I am (ha!), I had set aside the entire day before they came to shoot photos for two new posts. Where are these posts, you ask? Ugh.
The first recipe was a total flop – inedible, I couldn’t even eat it. The next recipe was a much beloved favorite of ours that I’ve been excited to share. It involves a rainbow of root vegetables, a hot oven, and cozy comforting herbs like thyme and rosemary. All good things for sure, but decidedly not spring-y. The opposite actually. Turns out this day was the first official day of spring. Of course. Even better. Nobody wants to turn their oven on to roast squash on the first day of spring, Jill. Needless to say, the roots never got published, though they have a very firm rain check come mid-October, and I’ve been absent for over a week.
I’m going to call it now… this blog could potentially end up with a lot of Mexican food on it. Why is this, you ask? Well long story not too short my husband and I grew up together in small-town Wyoming. We dated all through high school (yes, we are high school sweethearts), then my husband (then boyfriend) left on a church mission for two years to Mexico. Once he came home, he was pretty much a Mexican – he spoke Spanish like a Mexican (and still can!), had Mexican mannerisms, and wanted Mexican food endlessly. Me being the supportive girlfriend that I was at the time was happy to go along with it. I ate sopes, tacos, tortas, tacos, enchiladas, conchas, tacos, tacos, etc. because that’s what my newly returned boyfriend wanted.