One of my resolutions this year is to do only One Thing At A Time.  This is very, very hard for me.  Somedays, when I have 12 things on my to-do list, including writing, teaching, errands, chores–it’s physically painful not to do that one extra thing.  The commitment has meant, among other things, that I am trying hard not to Get Dinner Ready While Helping With Homework. Or not to Section The Cauliflower While Doing Laundry.  Or not to Peel Carrots In Ten Minutes Before School Pickup.  I’m trying hard to avoid Eating Dinner In The Car On My Way To Work.  It means other things, too, like not asking my kids to Get Ready For Soccer And Eat Your Snack. Or Clean Your Room and Get Ready for Bed.  You can extrapolate.

You can call it my Oxford comma moment.

However, I am still trying to cook with fresh food.

Leaving the fast food to Finn

Doing One Thing At A Time means I have to plan more than ever. It means I have to start early. It means I have been thinking hard about what I can do to minimize my cooking time between the hours of 3 and 6.

In my quest, my new appliance has been life changing. Technically, my slow cooker is not a traditional slow cooker. It also roasts, sautees, browns, and simmers.  I am still learning the best ways to use it: how the high/low settings work; how long to parboil pastas; best cooking times for different sizes of baked potatoes; how much extra liquid  to add to simmer-all-day soups.  But it has been on my countertop nearly every other day since I got I it, and it has helped me slow down and simplify in countless ways. To date, I’ve made delicious Swedish Meatballs and Beef Stew.  But also: macaroni and cheese, red sauce, baked ziti (with leftover red sauce), split pea soup, baked potatoes.  Not all the recipes are perfect. Yet. (Except the pea soup. And the hint to rub the potatoes lightly with olive oil and sprinkle with salt before baking.)  But it has made my life exponentially less stressful.  And that, as some of you know, makes everyone less stressed-out. Funny how that works. Funnier that it has taken me so long to learn the lesson.

So along comes last Sunday, when our local football team played my childhood football team for a spot in the Superbowl.  I have fond memories of dark winter afternoons, a house full of the smells of my mother’s red sauce, or spaghetti and meatballs, or lasagna, endless football games, tv trays, warm garlic bread. And so even though I didn’t need to use it, I pulled out my slow cooker, sauteed the meat, added the tomatoes, herbs, and wine, and set it to Simmer for the next, oh, 4 or 5 hours.

Right before game time I cooked the pasta. Ella made kidtinis. We watched the game.  We ate.  We put in all the stops.

Ella’s 49er Kidtini. It involved club soda, Meyer lemons, grenadine, and a whole lot of cherries. Also red sugar.

Slow Cooker Red Sauce

• 1/2 lb ground beef
• 1/2 lb ground pork
• 1 cup chopped onion
• 4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
• 1 bay leaf
• 2 cans Italian tomatoes
• 4 sprigs thyme
• 1/4-1/2 cup red wine

1. With slow cooker on Sautee/brown, sautee meats with a pinch of salt until cooked through.
2. Add onion, garlic, and bay leaf, and cook, stirring constantly, until onion begins to soften.
3. Add tomatoes, thyme, wine.
4. Simmer for 4-5 hours.

This easily makes enough to dress 2 lbs of pasta. Save 1/2 for a batch of quick baked ziti during the week.

Tuesday night I have a plan: Swedish Meatballs. I take the pork and beef out of the freezer just fine.

Wednesday morning: I realize I have no onion, no potatoes.  Kids say they will boycott Swedish meatballs if mashed potatoes aren’t involved. I have no plan B. Resolve to go to store.

Later Wednesday morning: Put off trip to store for onions and potatoes.

Wednesday afternoon: Forget to go to store entirely.

Late Wednesday after, 20 minutes before school pick-up. Rush to store. Buy pre-chopped onion and pre-made mashed potatoes for the first time in my life.

School pickup time: T-1o. Soak bread in milk, dump in egg, meats, salt, nutmeg. No time to sautee onions, dump them in raw. What’s the worst that can happen?  Mix ingredients. Cover bowl. Wash hands.

Pick up kids. On time! Drive straight home.

35 minutes before first run to soccer field.  Begin making 20-something meatballs. Ten minutes later, our sitter arrives. Turn on slow cooker to “brown/sautee” for the first time.  Butter melts.  Meatballs brown evenly and quickly in less than 15 minutes. I begin to breathe again.

With help from sitter, kids have found themselves a snack, filled water bottles. Soccer uniforms are on. No one is yelling.

I melt another tablespoon of butter, stir flour, cook for two minutes, then whisk in chicken broth. Gravy comes to a simmer. Meatballs go back in.  Slow cooker gets turned to “HIGH” and programmed for 30 minutes, after which time, I hope it kicks back to “warm” setting. I stare at it for a minute, willing it not to let me down.

Leave for soccer with child #1.  Child #2 stays home with sitter to do homework and make scarves for her Scandanavian doll, who is largely responsible for the Swedish meatball phase.   We are on time for soccer. No one is crying.

It’s my turn to stay at the field, so an hour later, sitter arrives with child #2, takes home child #1.  By all reports the cooker is doing what it is supposed to . My sitter has heated up the potatoes and cooked the broccoli romanesco (she really is amazing).

An hour and half later, it is very dark and very cold.   I am shivering and can barely feel my extremities.  We drive home. The house is bright. And warm.  It smells like Sweden, or at least the pleasant afterglow of a long, successful trip to IKEA, before you’ve begun to assemble anything. My son has eaten something like ten meatballs.  My daughter tries to match him, meatball for meatball.  I salvage a few for the grownups.

Slow Cooker Swedish Meatballs

• 2 slices white bread
• heavy cream/milk (enough to moisten white bread)
  
• small onion, diced
• 1 egg beaten
• 1 lb ground beef
• 1/2 lb ground pork
• 1 tsp salt
• dash nutmeg, cardamom, white pepper
• 2 T butter
  
• 1 T flour
• 1 cup chicken broth

1. In a medium sized bowl, pour enough cream or milk over the bread to completely moisten both slices.
2. Dice onion and add to bowl along with meats, egg, salt, and spices.  Mix gently until all ingredients are evenly distributed.
3. Shape mixture into small balls.
4. With slow cooker on Brown/Sautee setting, fry meatballs in 2T butter until brown on all sides. Remove using a slotted spoon and set aside.
5. Whisk flour into pan drippings. If need be, add another 1-2 tablespoons butter.
6. Whisk in broth and simmer until gravy is thick.
7. Turn slow cooker to “HIGH” and return meatballs to gravy. Cook on for 30 minutes, or until meatballs are cooked through.

Some people eat long noodles, other families eat blackeyed peas, but we have a pasta-making tradition on New Years Day.   Actually, the tradition has been that I make the pasta and everyone else eats it.  Mostly, I don’t mind. Mostly, I love making pasta the way other people love meditating, or running, or taking a nap.  There are few other tasks in the kitchen that I find more therapeutic, and even fewer that have a better reward.  But this year, I just didn’t want to make all that pasta only to have it disappear a few hours later, nor did I want  to make the extra batches all by myself.  Plus, there’s no kitchen gadget my kids love more than the pasta roller. So I decided: It was about time the kids and Kory learned how to make pasta.

First, you clear the table and dump 2 1/4 cups “OO” type flour into a small hill at each work space.

Next: you make a pit in the center of your flour mountain, volcano style.  Crack 3 eggs into your crater.

(Even Finn could do this–mostly.)

With a fork, puncture the yolks, then scrambled the eggs.  Slowly incorporate the flour into the eggs.

When the dough begins to comes together, you drop the fork and begin to knead, incorporating flour bit by bit until the dough is no longer sticky. Eventually, it will be smooth and elastic and will spring back when you poke it.

It’s messy teaching kids how to knead, so I couldn’t take pictures. But you’ll trust me when I say we ended up with 4 beautiful batches of pasta.

3 batches were packed away, unrolled and uncut in ziplock bags and stored in the freezer for another day.

The last batch, we rolled into fettucine.  Actually, Ella and Finn rolled it,with some help, then cut it on their own. Teamwork. We don’t have it every day, nor did we even have it all day on New Years Day, but we had it in this moment.  This is one of my goals for this year: remembering that harmony, in small ways, matters.

If you ask my kids, they will tell you their favorite restaurant is the Melting Pot, a chain of fondue restaurants.  Everything I wrote almost exactly one year ago remains true.  Yet in spite of the price, we have eaten there three times this year.  We didn’t anticipate that our promise to celebrate certain accomplishments would become  such an expensive one.

So, Santa thought it was time to leave a fondue pot for the family, which we used almost immediately to inaugurate a new tradition:  New Years Eve Fondue.

We all helped prep: cutting bread and dipping vegetables and apples and setting them on the table on small bowls. grating cheese in the food processor; chopping and measuring the aromatics and liquid; covering the table in butcher paper and then setting it.

Everything ready to go

We have the Cuisnart electric fondue pot, so when everything was prepped, we brought the ingredients right to the table to cook.  The pot gets up to temperature almost immediately, so if you have your prep under control, this is a very fast dinner, one you could even do on a busy weeknight. The fondue comes together in less than ten minutes, even if you make, like we did, enough fondue to feed a small regiment of Swiss gendarmes.

We took turns with the cooking: I sauteed the garlic, kids added the beer, then we all  added handfuls of cheese, the aromatics, and stirred until the fondue came together.

Then we ate.

It was one of the most pleasant, easy meals we’ve had this season. I reckon we’ll save about $600 a year in restaurant bills. There’s something about cooking together over a single pot, then eating out of a communal bowl that brings our family together in the way no other meal can. (True, the sticks help.)  I think the next time an ugly conflict rears it’s head, or I need a good bribe reward, I might suggest fondue for dinner and all will be well.  Really, it’s like family therapy.

Horseradish Cheddar Fondue

Makes enough for at least 8 hungry people, so adjust accordingly. Follow the directions on your fondue pot for cooking and warming.

• 1 1/2 lbs mild cheddar cheese, shredded
• 2 tablespoons cornstarch
• 1 1/2 cups beer (we like Stella Artois)
• 1 tablespoon butter
• 1 minced clove garlic
• 1 teaspoon horseradish mustard
• 1-2 dashes tabasco

Ideas for dipping:

• bread cubes
• carrots
• broccoli (lightly steamed if you prefer)
• mild pre-cooked sausage
• fennel and/or celery
• apple wedges, cut in half

1. Toss shredded cheese with corn starch and set aside.
2. Saute garlic quickly in melted butter.
3. Add beer and bring to a gentle simmer.
4. Slowly add in cheese, stirring to melt evenly.
5. Add mustard and tabasco.
6. Serve immediately.

I’ll bet you didn’t know that today is St. Lucy’s Day.  And that it is also my daughter’s half-birthday. And that her still-beloved American Girl doll, Kirsten, hails from Sweden, where St. Lucy is pretty much the only saint honored. If you’ve read my book, you also might know that we nearly named Ella “Lucy”, after my paternal grandmother.

For a few years, Ella has been lobbying to celebrate her half-birthday/Swedish saint day in a traditional way: with St. Lucia buns, brought by the eldest daughter, at the crack of dawn, to the other members of the household. Usually, this daughter wears a crown of candles.  Historically, December 13 would have been the winter solstice, the darkest night of the year, and thus the tradition of the eldest daughter bringing light and sweets.

Last night at dinner, Ella reminded me about St. Lucy’s Day and told me exactly where to find the recipe, and at 6:30 pm, I agreed and set to work making St. Lucia Buns for the morning. I didn’t have saffron or raisins, which means ours were not exactly authentic, but they were good enough.  They’re a sweet, yeast bread and easy to make.

This morning, at about 6:45 am, it was still dark, and Finn came into our room, announcing, “Stay in bed!” Not long after that, Ella arrived (sans scary candle crown) with a breakfast tray bearing two cups of coffee and 4 St. Lucia buns, plated and garnished with candied walnuts, which she’d added in place of the missing raisins.

It was lovely to have a break from the regular routine, to forget about making lunches and emptying the dishwasher and making beds.  We all piled onto our bed, and had a calm, sweet breakfast as the sun came up.

St. Lucia Buns

from Kirsten’s Cookbook

• 1/3 cup milk
• 1/4 cup butter
• 1/4 cup lukewarm water
• 1 package yest
• 1/4 cup sugar
• 1 egg
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 teaspoon saffron
• 2 3/4 cups flour
• 1 T cooking oil
• 1 egg + 1 T water
• 24 raisins

1. Sprinkle the yeast over the warm water. Set aside for 5 minutes until  bubbly and smooth.
2. Warm the milk and butter over low heat until butter is just melted.
3. Add the milk and butter to the yeast.
4. Stir in sugar, egg, salt, and saffron.
5. Add 1 1/2 cups flour and stir until smooth.
6. Add enough of the remaining flour so that you can shape the dough into a ball.
7. Put dough on floured cutting board & knead, adding flour as dough becomes sticky.
8. When dough is smooth and  springy (about 5-10 minutes) cover with a towel and wash & dry mixing bowl.
9. Measure cooking oil into bowl, add dough, turn to coat, cover with a towel and set in warm place to rise, 45 minutes, or until doubled in size.
10. Punch down the dough, then divide into 6 sections.  Take one section and divide in half. Roll each half into and 8-inch rope. Cross the 2 ropes in the middle then coil the ends into tight circles. Repeat w/remaining 5 buns.
11. Place buns on greased cookie sheet, 2 inches apart. Let rise until doubled, 30-45 minutes.
12. While buns are rising, preheat oven to 350 degrees.
13. Beat egg and water and brush lightly over the top of each bun before baking. Decorate with raisins.
14. Bake buns 15-20 minutes, until golden brown.
15. Cool on cooling rack.

Last week, when I made this chive meatloaf, I made double.  I rolled and froze the second batch, and took it out last night for a quick dinner. I baked it in our convection oven on the self-timer early in the day, around 3 pm.

But I also had mashed potatoes left over, and so when the meatloaf had cooked and cooled, I molded the potatoe into a little igloo over the loaf. I used my hands. Then, I suddenly remembered something from my childhood. Cheese in mashed potatoes ? Cheese on twice-baked potatoes?  I quickly dumped some grated cheddar and monterey jack all over the potatoes, then baked everything at 350 degrees for 2-25 minutes.

The cheese crust turned golden and slightly crispy, and the kids were a little baffled, but then they tasted it and thought it was one of the best things ever.  Finn ate two helpings and Ella just kept saying, “These potatoes are so good.” And she’s not much of a potato eater. Really, it’s the definition of comfort food, and it made for a very happy, easy dinner.  In fact, the only thing more fun for the kids than this, which they thought was a totally new meal, was playing Finn’s new game, “Who Am I?” while they ate.

In this case, he is most definitely not what he is eating.

One of the contributors to our book, which is just a few weeks away from being sent to the publisher (!), is Jeff Gordinier. He’s written for a lot of places, but these days he makes his home at the Dining Section of the New York Times. He recently sent me a link about harvesting walnuts in France.

It’s a beautiful post, and as I read it, it made me happy to know that we, too, so far from France and big, sustainable gardens, also had a big bowl of walnuts, a bowl for shells, and a cracker out on our counter.  Of course, we don’t harvest the nuts ourselves, but we do get them fresh from an orchard that’s about an hour away from where we live, and every year we say the same thing: We can’t believe how good they are. Fresh, flavorful, tender, sweet.  Our whole family eats them all day long.  A nut here, a nut there, they’re like little nuggets of fall. Ella will crack a few while she’s waiting for breakfast. Finn will ask if he can some after lunch.  (I always say yes.) I’ll have some before dinner.  The shells are thin and easy to crack. The nuts are so solid and compact, and they make little musical clicks as we sort them.  Really, everything about them sings.  They’re a fast, healthy snack that you have work a little for, which isn’t a bad thing. And for me, because we only have them this time of year, they’re just one more thing that reminds us of the present moment. That, and the nefarious way a certain medley of carols keeps being sung over, and over, and over….

As Caroline and I are readying our book for the publisher, we are more than usually pressed for time, facing deadlines, making decisions, and still taking care of the kids, the field trips, the soccer tournaments, the homework….Suffice to say, dinner has been put under pressure, too, and I often feel like I’m cooking that on deadline, too.

The other night, I had loads of fresh produce, some good meat, potatoes that needed to be used. It was cold. The obvious choice: meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I had fleeting visions of shephard’s pie, or meatloaf covered w/potatoes, but that was just two more steps than I could handle.  Also, I had in mind, Stacie Stukin, one of our contributors, whose essay includes a great anecdote about how her own mother made meatloaf, without ever touching the meat. I find this inspired, and while I didn’t manage it entirely, I did use one of her techniques. See if you can guess what it is.

As I was prepping, I discovered I had no onions.  I’m not quite sure how that happened.  But I did have a large, fresh bunch of chives, so I used them instead, and it was good.

Chive Meatloaf

for each pound of ground beef:

• 2 slices crustless, cubed, white bread, soaked in milk
• 1 egg, beaten
• several dashes Worcestershire sauce
• 1 Tablespoon Dijon mustard
• 1/4 cup ketchup
• 2-3 cloves minced garlic
• a *lot* of chopped chives, maybe 1/3 cup, you want them to speckle the loaf
• sprinkle of salt & pepper

Mix all ingredients together well and mold as desired. Top with tomato sauce or a thin layer of ketchup.

Bake at 325 degrees for about 1 hour.

One thing Caroline & I are discovering as we are doing the final pass on the edits for our book, is just how important mothers are when it comes to the food we eat as children.  It seems there is a mother, somewhere, for better and for worse, at heart of all the ways we learn to eat.  No two stories in our book are the same, but one of the clear common threads is just how much influence a mother can have.  On the one hand, this is some cause for chagrin: it’s our fault? Again? Really? On the other hand, it’s forcing us to clearly recognize just how much power is in the hands of the person who feeds us first and how important food can be–in ways that go far, far beyond the table.

This lesson has come home for me this week. My parents are visiting from the east coast, and my mother, who is full of energy in every way, generously stepped into my kitchen to cook for my family on the night I had to teach.  It was a huge relief not to have plan, cook, and leave this meal behind for them, which is what I do every other week. Even better, she had spied a new recipe from my favorite food magazine, La Cucina Italiana and decided to try it.  I sort of marveled at her willingness to experiment in the middle of the week, but she took it all in stride, as she does many things.

The result was a meal the kids raved about.  I was lucky enough to be able to eat the leftovers for lunch the next day, and I have to agree. It’s delicious. So, with gratitude for my mom, who taught me to try new things, who is an inspiration to me, and a unflagging companion for my kids, and, basically, a joy to be around, here is the recipe just as she made it, straight from the magazine.

Bucatini with pork and fennel ragu

Ingredients

Instructions

Just like that, it’s fall. We have dark nights and cold mornings and no one is thinking twice about summer, the only relic of which are  few jars of super sweet, oven roasted cherry tomotoes from the garden.  With roasted garlic, they taste like fall.  Now we are feasting on pumpkins and snacking on persimmons and pomegranites.  And we’re starting our pumpkin collection, most of it purchased from Baia Nicchia Farm. Many of these will last for months.  Eventually they will all be cooked.

The humble spaghetti squash

The one I am saving for pie. Warts=sugar.

Some for carving; some for soup.

Potimarron. For the rissoto.

First pumpkin risotto of the season; made with lager & garnished with fried sage and sausage.

The recipe for Pumpkin Risotto is here. This time, I added crunchy, fragrant, fried sage leaves. To make them, take 15-20 (or more) fresh sage leaves. Dust off any dirt. Fry until just crisp in a few tablespoons of olive oil. Reserve the oil and drain the leaves on paper towels. Use the oil to drizzle on the risotto and serve the leaves as garnish.