The Sun Also Rises

There may be hope yet. Saturday marked one of The First Days of Spring in Brooklyn, and its citizens, for the first time in months, rejoiced. I spent the day tucked away on a hidden rooftop patio, sun rays ricocheting off steel siding and lenses of sunglasses. 

In honor of feeling human again, I made a tart — one with fresh fruit and the need to be refrigerated. The season for cold food, thank god, may soon be upon us. 

Key lime pie, with its tangy sweet goo and crunchy crumb crust, seemed appropriate. It brings Hemingway to mind, him hanging in his favorite Key West haunts. For the recipe, I looked to the #1 authority on such things: Steve's Authentic Key Lime Pie. And to make it slightly funkier, I made the tart shell with pretzel crumbs, instead of the traditional graham cracker version.

A farewell to arms (in sleeves), indeed.

Key Lime Tart w/ Pretzel Shell

For the shell

• 1 1/4 cups pretzels, crushed
• 3 tbsp sugar
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 6 tbsp butter, melted

Preheat oven to 375 degrees with the rack in the center. Mix pretzel crumbs with sugar and salt in a bowl. Add melted butter and mix well. Press firmly into a greased 10-inch tart pan. Bake for 10 minutes, or until golden brown. Allow shell to cool completely.

For the filling

• 4 egg yolks
• 1 can sweetened condensed milk
• 1/2 cup fresh key lime juice

In a mixing bowl, stir together egg yolks and milk. Mix well. Stir in the lime juice and fold with a spatula until just combined (do NOT over mix!). Pour into cooled tart shell and refrigerate four hours or overnight until set. Serve with whipped cream cheese.

Whipped Cream Cheese 

• 1 cup whipping cream
• 1/3 cup cream cheese
• 3 tbsp powdered sugar
• 1/2 tsp vanilla

Whip cream with an electric mixer and whisk attachment on medium-high until soft peaks form but collapse. Add cream cheese and whip just until combined. Add sugar and vanilla and whip until soft peaks form. 

Killer tofu

Beets. Some of you will understand, others of you will not.

Dug up from their premature graves, they leave bloody stains on cutting boards and counter tops, ooze red juices into your sink as you peel them. But once roasted or boiled, they become sweet and innocent.

Too sweet, some would say — counter that with onion, beef broth, and salt, and beets become the perfect foundation for a savory soup. In my mind, I dubbed this "skin soup" as I was inventing it. Beets, sweet potatoes, carrots, bone broth — all things good for the digestion and good for the skin, according to the Internet. 

And because I am born of a people who freeze milk rather than let it go to waste, I pulverized the discarded beet greens along with olive oil, lemon, toasted sunflower seeds, and nutritional yeast into a dairy-free pesto. Yolo.

Beet, Beef & Sweet Potato Soup 

• 4 beef short ribs 
• 1 yellow onion
• 1 tbsp olive oil 
• 3 medium beets, greens removed, peeled, and chopped
• 1 sweet potato, peeled and chopped
• 1 carrot, peeled and chopped 
• 3 cups beef stock
• 1 tsp black pepper
• 1 tsp table salt
• 1/4 tsp ginger 

Brown short ribs in a pan over medium heat. Remove and set aside. In the pan with the beef drippings, add 2 tbsp olive oil. Cook onions in pan over medium heat until translucent, then add the vegetables. Cook for roughly 8 minutes, until they begin to soften. Add short ribs back to the pan, along with the stock and spices. Stir to combine and bring to boil. Lower to medium-low heat and simmer for 2 hours. 

After 2 hours, remove the short ribs and bones from the pan. Separate the bones and toss them out. With a knife and fork, shred the beef and add it back to the pan. Simmer for another 10 minutes before serving. 

Top with beet green pesto (below) and fresh dill. 

Beet Green Pesto

• 3 cups beet greens, center vein removed 
• 1/4 cup olive oil 
• 1 tbsp lemon juice
• 3 cloves garlic
• 1/4 cup toasted sunflower seeds
• 1 tsp table salt 
• 1/4 cup nutritional yeast flakes (or parmesan) 
• 1/4 tsp crushed red pepper flakes

Combine first three ingredients in a blender or food processor until a paste is formed. Add remaining ingredients and blend until smooth. 

Piti-fours

They accompanied tea parties, sitting aloft on three-tiered silver platters alongside miniature cucumber sandwiches. Fancy ladies, in elegant ballooning skirts that draped across the arms of chairs and trailed to the floor in seas of satin and velvet, would pinch them between thumb and forefinger, feigning consumption. 

Petits fours — pitiful in size, a food for the rich, a food for the dainty. Long have they held an air of storybooks and bygone eras. Now, they are come to life. 

Inspired by the universally adored olive oil cake from Abraço, an espresso bar in the East Village not far from my former apartment, I put a slightly modern spin on this historical tea snack. Topped with candied lemons, they glimmer with a sheen of inedibility. 

Lemon & Olive Oil Petits Fours

For the cake

• 1 1/2 cups flour
• 1 cup granulated sugar
• 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 tsp baking powder
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 2 large eggs
• 3/4 cup soy creamer
• 1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
• 2 tsp lemon zest 

For the filling

• 1/2 cup soy creamer or heavy cream 
• 1 cup white chocolate chips 

For the glaze

•  3 cups powdered sugar 
• 1/4-1/2 cup soy creamer or heavy cream 
• 1 tsp light corn syrup 

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a large bowl, mix together dry ingredients with a fork. In a separate bowl, mix together the eggs, creamer, oil, and zest. Gradually whisk the wet ingredients into the dry until fully incorporated. 

Line a rimmed 12x17 baking sheet with parchment and pour in batter. Smooth out evenly, and place on the upper-middle rack of your oven. Bake for 15-20 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Allow cake to cool completely. 

Make the filling: Heat cream in a saucepan over medium heat until it bubbles, stirring constantly. Place chocolate chips in a large glass or metal bowl. Pour hot cream over the chocolate and allow it to sit for 2 minutes. Stir mixture until smooth and allow to cool until it thickens to the consistency of frosting.

Once the cake is cool, lift parchment and cake out of the pan and place on the counter. Cut cake in half crosswise. Spread filling on one half of the cake, and place the other half on top. Chill in refrigerator for 1 hour. Next, trim edges of cake to create a perfect rectangle, then cut into 2-inch squares. Refrigerate another 20 minutes.

Make the glaze: Gradually add cream to powdered sugar until the mixture is the consistency of heavy cream. Stir in corn syrup.

Dip cake squares into the glaze until well coated and set on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Once all squares are coated, refrigerate another 20 minutes until set. Top with candied lemon slices, if you so choose. 

Candied Lemon Slices

• 1 cup water
• 1 cup granulated sugar 
• 1 lemon, thinly sliced

Heat water and sugar in a saucepan over medium heat until sugar has dissolved and the mixture is simmering lightly. Add lemon slices and cook for 5-7 minutes, or until translucent. Drain on a paper towel, then transfer to a wire rack or plate to dry. 

Cure me

"Someone's in a salty mood," my Delawarean friend would say that summer we shared an apartment in Vermont. I'd often enter the room emanating less-than-cheerful vibes, and she and our honorary third roommate would force me to laugh against my will.

Since that summer, the phrase has stuck with me. Walking through avenues-turned-wind-tunnels on my way to work, I frequently find myself in the saltiest of states. Luckily, I'm a sodium junkie and can usually lick my way out. 

This soup is, unfathomably, saltier than I. Cured Spanish chorizo and salt-soaked black beans are saved by fresh, steam-wilted kale. 

Black Bean, Kale, & Chorizo Soup

• 1 yellow onion, chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 Tbsp olive oil 
• 3 links cured chorizo 
• 1 small bunch kale, stems removed and torn into pieces
• 1 14 oz. can black beans 
• 1 cube chicken bouillon
• 1 tsp tomato paste
• 2 cups water 
• 1/2 tsp black pepper
• 1/4 tsp chili powder
• 1/4 tsp cumin 

Heat olive oil in a pot or large saucepan over medium heat. Add onion and cook three minutes. Add garlic and chorizo and cook five minutes more, until onions are translucent and chorizo is beginning to brown. Add kale and cook until wilted, about three minutes. Pour in black beans with their liquid, and add bouillon, tomato paste, water and spices. Stir to combine and bring to a simmer. Cook for 30 minutes, until flavors are well-combined. 

For the sodium conscious, use sodium-reduced black beans and bouillon.

Barring embalmment

No preservatives. It's counter intuitive, isn't it? For all of time, humans have wanted to live for all of time. The afterlife, reincarnation, alchemy, Tuck Everlasting. Why, then, do we seek to eliminate those crazy life-extending chemicals from our comestibles?

Unnatural. The word is whispered behind backs, with pointed fingers. Though we inject our skin with plastic, our food must remain pure.

In an attempt to soothe a sensitive stomach, I tested the "all-natural" waters with an easy breakfast bar recipe. Raw almonds, oats, shredded coconut, peanut butter, agave, honey... and bittersweet chocolate to make it all worthwhile. 

Raw Almond Breakfast Bars 

• 1 cup chopped raw almonds
• 1/2 cup rolled oats
• 1/2 cup shredded coconut 
• 1/4 cup all-natural peanut or almond butter
• 1/4 cup honey
• 1 tbsp agave syrup
• 1 tsp chia seeds
• 1/4 cup bittersweet chocolate chunks

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Combine ingredients in a medium bowl until a sticky "dough" is formed. Line a 9x5 baking pan with parchment and press mixture firmly into it. It's important that you really pack it down, to ensure the bars hold together post-baking. 

Bake for 15-20 minutes, until edges are golden brown. Allow to cool completely before slicing into squares.

To stew

Verb. Cooking slowly in hot liquid. To boil, silently, just below the surface. To find oneself in a state of suppressed resentment. As it bubbles, the flavors build, it thickens, it morphs into something delicious for all its passive aggression. 

As more snow and gloom threatened the already long faces of Brooklyn apartment dwellers, I cooked down an extra-rich take on classic beef stew. Here's hoping "comfort food" lives up to its nickname. 

Beef Stew With Red Wine & Bacon 

• 1.5 lbs beef chuck, cut into 2-inch pieces
• 3 slices thick-cut bacon, cut into small pieces
• 1 onion, chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 tbsp tomato paste 
• 1 tbsp dijon mustard 
• 1 1/2 cups red wine 
• 4 cups beef stock 
• 2 bay leaves
• 1/2 tsp paprika 
• 1/2 tsp salt 
• 1 tsp black pepper
• 1 tsp granulated sugar
• 4 large carrots, sliced
• A handful of new potatoes, quartered

Heat a large pot over medium-high and add bacon pieces. Cook until brown and crispy, then transfer to a bowl (leave the drippings in the pot). Add the beef to the pot and lightly salt it. Cook until just browned on the outside, and still red in the center. Remove beef from pot and set aside. 

Cook the onions in the meat drippings until they start getting soft. Add garlic, and cook 1 min. more. Add the bay leaves, tomato paste, mustard, paprika, salt, pepper, sugar, beef stock and red wine. Stir and bring to a simmer. Add beef back to the pot and simmer for 2 hours, until tender, adding a cup of water to the pot after the first hour. 

After 2 hours, add the potatoes and carrots and simmer for another 30 min. to an hour, until vegetables are tender. If the stew is too thick, add more water and simmer an additional 10 minutes.

Add salt if necessary. Eat a bowl of stew, and die happy.

12 Years a Slab Pie

I never sought to make a slab pie. After all, pies are meant to be round, and corner-less. In fact, I feel similarly about pizza pies — thus stems my distrust of the "Sicilian" or "Grandma" slice. Sorry, but actually, not sorry. But a little sorry, because I don't like to offend people.

To refresh: rectangles? Not cool. "Slab" doesn't even sound appetizing; it leans toward the grotesque, or a block of concrete. Then again, desperate times call for desperate measures. By desperate, I mean I was having a nice time prepping food for a very fun Oscar-themed event on Sunday with my former roommate and her boyfriend.

We began our Oscar-viewing-hosting tradition in our former East Village apartment last year. And, just as we did one year ago, we tasked one another to come up with punny, Oscar-nomination-themed names for each of the dishes and drinks we'd be serving. (Stay tuned for Wolf of Walnut Chocolate Chip Cookies, Poker Apple Chips and Baked Abscamembert, and I Am the Mushroom Cap of This Boat.) We are, most unfortunately, the nerdiest.

As luck (what's that?) would have it, one of my sillier puns was inspired by none other than the Best Picture winner. I present: 12 Years a Slab Pie.

Filled with a blend of apples, pears, and freshly grated ginger, it in no way relates to the film for which it was named. But it tastes like victory.

Pear, Apple, & Ginger Slab Pie 

adapted from Smitten Kitchen

For the crust: 

• 3 3/4 cups flour
• 1 1/2 tbsp sugar
• 1 1/2 tsp salt
• 3 sticks cold, unsalted butter, cut into cubes
• 3/4 cups ice-cold water

For the filling: 

• 3 Macintosh apples, peeled and chopped into 1-inch chunks
• 3 Red Bartlett pears, chopped into 1-inch chunks
• A squeeze of lemon juice
• 2/3 cup granulated sugar
• 3 tbsp cornstarch
• 1 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
• 1/4 tsp nutmeg
• 1/4 tsp allspice 
• 1 tsp freshly grated ginger
• 1/8 tsp salt

Also:

• 1 egg, beaten

Mix dry ingredients for the crust in a large bowl. Add butter pieces, and work into the flour mixture with a pastry blender or two forks until only bits the size of peas remain. Drizzle in 1/4 cup of ice water and continue to work it into the dry ingredients as you did with the butter. Continue to drizzle in tiny amounts of water until the dough just barely comes together. Work a bit more with your hands until a dough ball has formed. Divide into two, flatten into discs, wrap in plastic, and refrigerate for at least an hour. 

Meanwhile, mix the ingredients for the filling in a large bowl and set aside. 

Line a 12x17 baking sheet with parchment. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees with the rack in the upper-middle.

Once the dough is ready, remove one disc from plastic and roll out on a well-floured surface into a rectangle the size of your baking sheet. Note: this process is truly the worst. Make sure you use ample flour, and that you have plenty of room. If you totally blow it, just press the pie dough into the bottom of the pan. For the top crust, though, you've only got one shot. Good luck! 

Place bottom crust dough into your lined baking sheet, ideally with an overhang. Pour filling into it, spreading evenly. Roll out your top crust and carefully transfer it to the top of your filling. Lift the overhang from the bottom crust up to cover the edge of the top and pinch together to seal. Cut air vents across the top of the pie, then brush the entire thing with your egg wash. 

Bake the pie for 40-50 minutes, until the top is golden and the juices are bubbling. 

Buck up

Let's talk shiitake. I was somewhat scared of the lanky stemmed fungi until I visited a pristine ramen shop in London's Soho last spring. These little guys look like something out of a fairy tale — one wrong bite and you may just end your life. At said ramen establishment, a few floated mischievously in my bowl among noodles and bok choy. They were surprisingly non-awful and, bonus, I didn't die.

Keen to play some mushroom roulette (and use up the rest of the leeks from my last soup adventure), I improvised a miso-based shiitake mushroom, leek, and tofu soup with buckwheat soba noodles (Annie's makes a variety of these that look perfectly strange). It took all of 20 minutes to make, and is dairy, gluten, and meat free. Would this taste better with some pork bones simmered in the broth? Hell yeah. Sriracha? Some crushed red pepper? Yesss. 

Shiitake Leek Soup with Tofu & Buckwheat Noodles

• 2 large leeks, white and light green parts, sliced
• 2 cups sliced shiitake mushrooms
• 4 cups vegetable broth 
• 1 tbsp red miso paste 
• 2 tbsp soy sauce 
• 1/4 cup sliced scallions
• 2 tbsp olive oil 
• 1 tbsp sake or white wine 
• 1/3 package of buckwheat soba noodles
• 4 oz extra firm tofu, drained and cut into half-inch cubes
• Salt and pepper to taste 

Heat olive oil in saucepan over medium heat. Add leeks and cook until they begin to soften and brown. Add the mushrooms and cook for five to eight minutes more. Add the miso paste, soy sauce, sake, and broth and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and add the buckwheat noodles, tofu, and scallions, reserving some of the latter for garnish.

Simmer soup for about 10 minutes more, or just until noodles are al dente. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Remove from heat and serve topped with scallions, crushed red pepper, etc.

Steeped

At Christmas, my Kansan-Parisian friend gifted me a box filled with tiny muslin sachets of Earl Grey French Blue tea. She had tucked this precious cargo into her luggage and brought it all the way from Paris to Lawrence, Kansas (our hometown) for the holidays.  The tea, I discovered after a bit of Googling, is from Mariage Frères, a French tea company dating back to 1854. 

Too special for a casual cup, the sachets were squirreled away for something — I didn't know what.

Last week, after sampling a chocolate chocolate chip cookie from the Upper West Side's Levain Bakery, I knew I wanted to attempt something similar. But I take issue with most chocolate (squared) cookies; they tend toward sickeningly sweet and are impossible to consume in their entirety.

I wanted to cut the sweetness of the chocolate-on-chocolate action without losing the richness. To accomplish this, I did something kind of weird. Hang with me. 

Before mixing my dough, I browned the butter — and in it, I steeped two sachets of the tucked-away French Blue tea. 

The browning of the butter is a nice trick, one which I garnered from Serious Eats. In fact, I pretty much followed the same "perfect" chocolate chip cookie recipe that I wrote about previously, reducing the salt a tad, adding cocoa powder to the dry mix, and steeping tea in the butter. 

The result? A rich, still-decadent but not-too-sweet chocolate chocolate chip cookie with a bit of lightness, thanks to Mr. Earl Grey. 

Earl-Grey-Infused Chocolate Chocolate Chip Cookies

adapted from Serious Eats' "The Food Lab"

• 2 sticks unsalted butter
• 2-4 bags Earl Grey tea
• 2 cups flour
• 3/4 tsp baking soda
• 1 tsp salt
• 1/2 cup dark cocoa powder
• 3/4 cup granulated sugar
• 2 large eggs
• 2 tsp vanilla extract
• 1/2 cup packed dark brown sugar
• 1 1/2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips

Melt butter in a saucepan over medium high heat until it turns translucent and amber in color, about five minutes. Remove from heat. Place tea bags in a bowl and pour the hot butter over them. Allow them to steep for 30 minutes. After the tea has steeped, remove the bags and continue to cool the butter in the refrigerator until it starts to turn solid again at the edges. 

Meanwhile, in an electric mixer fitted with a whisk attachment, whip the eggs and the granulated sugar together for about five minutes, or until it turns a light brownish yellow color and falls from the whisk in thick ribbons. 

In a another bowl, mix together the dry ingredients with a fork. 

Once the butter has cooled, add it and the dark brown sugar to the egg mixture and beat on medium for 15-30 seconds. Turn mixer to low and gradually add the dry ingredients until just incorporated. Add the chocolate chips and mix until well-distributed. 

Transfer the dough to a Tupperware container and refrigerate overnight. You don't absolutely have to wait a day to bake these, but the flavors will be more intense if you do. 

When ready to bake, preheat the oven to 325 degrees with the racks in the upper middle part of the oven. Bring the dough to room temperature and scoop into balls, each about 3 tablespoons worth of dough. Bake six cookies at a time on a parchment-lined cookie sheet for 16 minutes (your oven may vary, so keep an eye on the first batch). 

Black & Blue

I am still sad. 

And since I feel like sh*t, I thought I'd make a soup that looks like... Well, anyway, for some ungodly reason I thought a blue potato soup would accurately reflect my mood and still be appetizing in appearance. I really blue it (<- had to). 

That said, this murky little guy is a variation of Julia Child's leek and potato soup from Mastering The Art of French Cooking, which is never really wrong. In fact, taste-wise, this soup is one of the simplest and most delicious I've prepped for the Swap thus far. Like most of my liquid-y ventures, I made this one vegan-friendly. 

Were I to add a soundtrack to this sad little soup (because that's a normal thing), it would be King Krule's "Portrait in Black and Blue," which I had on repeat while it softly simmered the morning away. 

Blue Potato & Leek Soup 

• 4 medium blue potatoes, peeled and chopped
• 2 leeks (the whites plus a couple inches of green), thinly sliced
• 4 cups vegetable broth 
• 1 cup soy creamer 
• 3 tbsp olive oil 
• 1 squeeze lemon juice

Heat oil in a 2-quart saucepan over medium heat, then add chopped potatoes and leeks. Cook until soft and starting to turn brown, then add the vegetable broth and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer for 40 minutes. Once the potatoes turn to mush under your spoon, stir in the creamer and lemon juice and simmer for another 10 minutes. 

So easy easy. Top with crispy pan-fried leeks just before serving.

There will be blood orange

This Presidents' Day, I was devastated. 

One of my oldest and longest-running crushes, dating (but not dating) all the way back to sophomore year of college, was forced to come to an end. The details are whatever, what matters is this: I needed to do some damage. 

Blood. Those vanitas-evoking little citrus beauties are in season, and when I received my macaron-covered March issue of Martha Stewart Living, I knew what I had to do. 

Sifting, squeezing, whipping, beating — it sounds like rage, doesn't it? These blood orange macarons and their white chocolate ganache guts were time-consuming, but oh-so cathartic.

Blood Orange Macarons 

adapted from Martha Stewart Living

• 2 egg whites, room temperature 
• 1 pinch cream of tartar 
• 1/4 cup superfine granulated sugar 
• 2 tbsp blood orange juice, strained
• 2 drops red food coloring
• 1 drop yellow food coloring
• 3/4 cup almond meal 
• 1 cup powdered sugar 

Mix almond meal and powdered sugar in a bowl with a fork. Sift mixture at least once (twice, if you're less lazy than I and want suuuuper smooth tops). Set aside.

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Whisk egg whites with an electric mixer on medium until foamy. Add cream of tartar, and whisk until soft peaks form. Reduce speed to low, and add superfine sugar. Increase speed to high, and whisk until stiff peaks form. Turn off mixer and add juice and food coloring. Beat on high for two more minutes. Pour flour mixture over whites, and fold with a spatula, lifting from the bottom of the bowl, then flattening the spatula through the middle and letting the batter run back toward the center. Do this until the mixture is smooth, shiny, and slightly runny.

Spoon or pipe 3/4-inch rounds of batter one inch apart onto a parchment-lined baking sheet. Let rest for 15 minutes, then rap on the counter to release air bubbles before baking for 12 minutes until risen and set (note: timing may differ depending on your oven). Let cool on baking sheets for a couple minutes before transferring to a wire rack. 

If you're having trouble with the tops cracking, try letting your batter rest a bit longer, and rap the sheet on the counter to release air bubbles.

White Chocolate Ganache 

• 1 cup white chocolate chips
• 3/4 cup heavy cream 

Place chocolate chips in a medium-sized, heatproof bowl. Bring cream just to a boil, then pour over chocolate chips. Let sit for one minute, then stir vigorously with a wooden spoon until smooth. Let cool until it's the consistency of thick frosting/Nutella. To speed up the cooling process, stir over an ice bath (or a bag of frozen peas, which is what I did). 

Spread a small dollop of ganache on one macaron half, then press other half on top. Repeat with remaining macarons. 

The Antidote

I am sad. 

The cold, overcast days of winter are wearing on New York City dwellers. A coat, hat, and mittens can keep out the icy temperatures, but not the gloom. What, then, are we to do?

There is but one solution, the antidote to icy, snowy doldrums: beef chili. 

Heaps of rust-colored chili powder bring together beef, onions, peppers, and tomatoes, along with something a bit curious — dark chocolate. Slow cooking renders all ingredients indistinguishable, and we're left with a flavor fathoms-deep. 

Dark Chocolate Beef Chili 

adapted from Two Red Bowls 

• 1 lb. ground beef
• 1 yellow onion, diced
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 green bell pepper, diced
• 1 large carrot, minced
• 1 jalapeno, sliced thin and diced
• 1 small can diced green chiles 
• 14 oz. can diced tomatoes 
• 10 oz. can black beans 
• 3 tbsp chili powder 
• 2 tsp ground cumin 
• 1 tsp black pepper
• 1 tsp salt (to taste) 
• 3 tbsp dark chocolate chips
• 1/2 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
• 1/8 tsp cayenne pepper
• 3 tbsp ketchup (if you dare) 

Brown beef and onions together in a large pot over medium heat until beef is completely cooked and onions are translucent. Add garlic, then add chiles, green pepper, carrot, tomatoes (tip: I rinse the tomato can with a bit of water, then add it to the pot — waste not., want not...), jalapeno, and beans. Add spices, chocolate, and ketchup, then bring to a simmer. 

Cover and simmer for 1-2 hours over medium heat. 

Serve with tortilla chips and a squeeze of lime juice. (I also topped mine with some Daiya "cheddar" shreds because I'm learning to be a more accepting person). 

The Art of Substitution

I cannot recall his name, but there was a particular substitute teacher who, when taking over a class in our high school for the day, would write his entire life story on the chalkboard. I picture him in a red shirt, with glasses, standing awkwardly to the side of his cat-scratched autobiography.

He was no Mr. Ortmann, our beloved and terrifying history teacher, our benevolent and brilliant dictator. No, sir. And so, we were naturally predisposed to hate poor Mr. What's-His-Name. 

I feel much the same about substitutions in cooking and baking, particularly the latter, since the chemistry of so many baked goods is centered around the distinct behaviors of eggs and butter and milk. When cooking, it's a bit easier to be selective about the recipe, and to choose something that could turn out just as nicely should you use a different type of fat to saute your onions in, and so forth. 

So while I did cave and make an oily, soggy, vegan carrot cake with slimy green frosting for a friend in college, I often scoff at non-dairy, non-animal substitutions. For understandable reasons (see previous sentence). 

Maybe it's New York City — land of the dietary-restriction-accommodating — or maybe it's my increasing sensitivity to dairy products, but last week, I did something completely out of character. I attempted a vegan version of one of my very favorite foods: broccoli cheddar soup. 

Say what you will about Panera, but they gave the world a wonderful thing. Their signature cheesy broccoli soup in a sourdough bread bowl is beyond words — and acceptable calorie counts. Yikes. Given the inclusion of milk/cream, butter, and cheddar cheese in their recipe, such perfection is now off-limits to poor, lactose-impaired me. 

But I have opened my mind and my stomach to the idea of *cringe* fake dairy, just this once. And I must say, it was worth the reversal of all my dietary morals. It may not be Panera-perfect, but it's salty and velvety without being too heavy, and the broccoli stands a bit more in the spotlight as if to remind you, "Hey, this is still a vegetable soup, guys." 

Vegan Broccoli & "Cheddar" Soup 

• 1 head broccoli, stems separated from the florets and chopped
• 1 large yellow/spanish onion, diced
• 4 large cloves garlic, minced
• 3 tbsp olive oil
• 3 tbsp flour
• 1 cup soy milk
• 2 ½ cups stock
• 2 cups shredded cheddar or “cheddar”
• ¼ tsp nutmeg
• Salt and pepper to taste
• scallions, for garnish

Heat olive oil in a 2-quart saucepan and add onion and broccoli stems. Cook about 6 min until onions are translucent. Add garlic and cook 1 min more, then add salt (be conservative now, and add more later), pepper, and nutmeg. Stir to combine, then pour in broth. Bring to a boil, then reduce to simmer.

Meanwhile, mix the soy milk and flour into a paste, then add to pot, along with the broccoli florets. Simmer, covered, for about 15 minutes, until florets are tender. Add the cheese and stir until melted. Simmer five minutes more, then serve with chopped scallions, if ya want!

The Soup Swap

It was the fall of 2012, and my coworker and I were 100% sick of paying $6-7 for a small carton of soup at the Soup Kiosk around the corner from our Soho office.

We were equally sick of our own soups that we'd each been making on Sundays and eating, bowl after increasingly mundane bowl, throughout the week. It wasn't that our homemade soups were bad, or that we disliked them, it was simply this: soup gets boring when you the same one over and over and over again. 

We came up with a solution. We'd swap our extra soups, leaving each of us with two soups, instead of one. It's not exactly rocket science, but we felt pretty smart. 

But why stop at two? By bringing more people into the fold, we could have even more liquid meal variety. Thus, we recruited a handful of our Foursquare colleagues and outlined the rules for the first-ever (among our friends, anyway) Soup Swap. 

• Make soup on a Sunday. 
• Fill two, pint-sized Ball mason jars (yes, we're those people) w/ said soup.
• Bring your jars of soup to the office on Monday. 
• Swap that soup for two others. 

Each person is left with two mason jars of two different homemade soups to consume at his or her leisure. So nice, right?

Unfortunately, the Soup Swap only lasted about three Mondays before it collapsed. People were tired, or busy, or out of town, and the soups, well, they just didn't get made. For all its glory, the Swap was short-lived, and I was left sad and soupless. 

Flash forward to a year later, in October of 2013. I had started working at Vimeo a few months earlier, and during lunch one day, two of my coworkers and I realized our shared obsession with chowders, bisques, chilis, stews, and chicken noodle. I told them the legend of the Soup Swap, and we resolved to resurrect it, Vimeo-style.

There were one pun-filled calendar invite, six participants, and 12 mason jars in total. I made a vegan-friendly chipotle corn chowder, and swapped for lentil soup and broccoli leek. And so it began.

Regularly swapping has additional benefits beyond the avoidance of soup fatigue. For one, the Soup Swap has helped me form friendships with those coworkers who share a love of cooking. I've been exposed to their tastes and recipes, which are often different from my own, but just as good if not better. I mean, maybe I never would have attempted that green spinach+garlic situation that ended up tasting like (garlic-y) ambrosia, but Justin totally went for it. And it ruled.

And soup isn't the only thing that gets swapped — we also share advice and pro tips. How to hack into a butternut squash, the best way to cook non-mushy lentils — I've learned a ton. OK, enough of the cheesy infomercial. Those are just a few examples of the Swap awesomeness. I'll leave you with my recipe for Chipotle Corn Chowder & Garlic Croutons: 

Chipotle Corn Chowder

• 2 tbsp olive oil
• 1 yellow onion, diced
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• 4 medium red potatoes, chopped into 1-inch pieces
• 2 cups frozen or fresh yellow corn kernels
• 4 sprigs of fresh thyme, stems removed
• ⅛ tsp chili powder OR if you like it SPICY: ½ tsp chipotle pepper in adobo sauce (be careful)
• 2 cups vegetable stock
• 1 cup water
• 1 cup milk or soy milk
• 1 tsp salt
• ¼ tsp pepper

Heat olive oil in a 2-quart saucepan over medium heat. Add onions, season with salt, pepper, and chili powder and cook until translucent. Add garlic, and cook for 30 seconds more. Add vegetable stock and water, stir, and bring to a simmer. Cook for 20 minutes until slightly reduced.

Add milk, potatoes, corn, and thyme and bring back to a simmer. Cook 15-20 minutes more, uncovered, until potatoes are tender.

Once potatoes are tender, remove a cup of them, smash with a fork until smooth, then add back to the saucepan. Repeat with a second cup of potatoes.

Add more salt and pepper to taste. Serve with bread, or garlic croutons (recipe to follow).

Garlic Croutons

• 1 crusty italian loaf
• 3 tbsp olive oil
• 1 clove garlic, crushed and minced
• ¼ tsp dried or fresh herbs
• ¼ tsp onion powder
• ¼ tsp salt

Move rack to the top third of the oven and preheat to 400 degrees. Cut bread into 1.5-inch chunks and toss in bowl with olive oil. Add spices and mix.

Spread bread in a single layer on a baking sheet and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Bake for about 15-20 minutes, stirring halfway, until golden brown.

***

The Soup Swap has been going strong since that October kick-off. An average of six of us gather every Monday at 12:30 to trade soups, stories, and recipes and our only complaint is that winter will, one day, come to an end. 

Predilection for perfection

If someone asks you what the best cookie you've ever had is, your answer, no matter who you are, is pretty much a given: Classic. Chocolate. Chip. Done. 

It makes sense, then, that Serious Eats' "The Food Lab" column would attempt to tackle the "perfect" chocolate chip cookie. 1,500+ cookies later, they actually did. I only made a dozen of these babies, but they were well worth the extra effort. 

Find the recipe here, and the magic behind it here.