Comfort Foods and Indulgences

Every Mardi Gras, I have been wanting to make a King Cake for the kids.  I just never seem to have the extra time.  So when I came across an easy idea to make this happen, I went for it.

The King Cake is a dessert eaten all over the world in different forms and associated with the festivities of Mardi Gras, and it is no where more beloved than New Orleans.

It is normally a sweetened, yeasted bread stuffed with a cinnamon, cream cheese or praline filling and shaped into an oval ring.  It is then topped with white icing and sprinkled with yellow, green and purple sprinkles.  A small, plastic baby is then stuffed inside and whoever finds the trinket is declared the KING!

Anyways, this is the ultimate King Cake cheating recipe.  However, if you find yourself short on time, give this a whirl.  It surely tasted delicious!!

Recently I had a tryst with an old flame. No, ‘old flame’ is not quite right. You see, I’ve mindlessly used him many times over the years--even recently--meeting him most often in dark movie houses. On rare, more daring occasions we met in my bedroom, on nights when I admit I much more anticipated my latest Netflix delivery or guilty-pleasure TV show. He was always a second thought; an accompaniment; a reliable, cheap snack I held back from enjoying fully, lest I spoil the more respectable dinner waiting for me at home.

But this night was different. I was alone. . .insatiable, yet I longed for something more substantial, more fulfilling. . .more memorable. Suddenly, and for the first time, I saw him in a new light. The idea seemed so silly given our past dealings, that I needed some kind of sanity check before making the call. I did what one does when faced with such a crisis. I grabbed my phone, and desperately tweeted:

No one did (talk me out of it), but when shortly thereafter I received an inquisitive tweet from none other than the brilliant Amy Ephron (“What does homemade mean?”, “Did you grow and dry the corn, or do you just mean ‘not microwaved’?”, “Recipe, please?”), I knew I was on to something, and that there was no turning back.

I always have leftover bread.  Challah, french bread, sour dough.  Generally, I make bread crumbs.  But my freezer is full of bread crumbs.  So, I am forced to cook and create. With all the rain we have been having, I am happily staying indoors.  The weekends can sometimes be filled with way too many commitments.  However, this past weekend, it was lazy days, matinees, board games, and lots and lots of cooking.

A big pot (a triple recipe) of my bolognese simmers on the stove, scones are flash freezing in the freezer(the perfect school day breakfast), carrot soup is pureed for a quick weekday lunch, and this baked french toast sends the smells of morning wafting though out my home.

When making a baked french toast, it is usually best to soak it ahead (overnight), similar to a bread pudding. But, Eli’s early morning request didn’t allow me to prepare.  Instead, I assembled the casserole, covered it with plastic wrap, and let sit in the fridge for an hour.  

We all have our own rituals for fall Sunday afternoons. Some guys sit around and watch football; for me it takes only about a quarter before I need a nap. Others feel inspired to take up household projects; the less said about my ability with a hammer the better.

Instead, I cook. Well, I cook all year round, but when the days start to cool and the light turns golden, I get more ambitious. Rather than 30 minutes at the grill, I throw myself into hours-long kitchen projects. This year, it's been lasagna.

It started in late September. I had just gotten back from the farmers market when I heard that Marcella Hazan had died. I looked over everything that I had bought and in her honor immediately started making dough for fresh pasta. And peeling and seeding tomatoes and turning them into sauce. And making a Parmesan-enriched white sauce. And blanching, chopping and sauteing beet greens. And then putting it all together. All of a sudden it was dinner time.

There's nothing like lasagna from scratch to while away a lazy Sunday afternoon.

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