I came across this recipe in April’s Bon Appétit. Super easy to make and now it is a staple in our house for whenever we want the taste of green. Real people (Jess & Ben) recently from these places (Philadelphia, Utah, Idaho) said, “The soup is good.”

Don’t be afraid of the Tarragon. It tastes similar to anise or fennel, some might say licoricey – What? It tastes nothing like black Twizzlers. It can be overpowering in a dish but the right amount adds interest and complexity that makes it worth the risk. I am usually over cautious so my strategy is to put the amount I think should be in there and then I sneak behind my back and throw some more in when I’m not looking. Feel free to try other herbs, no herbs or adverbs – whatever you prefer!

(Read the rest of this post)

I’m slowly making my way through the cookbook Spice by Ana Sortun, chef/owner of our favorite restaurant in Cambridge — Oleana. BTW, this is John, and this is my first full post on Spoonlicker. I wrote the recipe for Eggplant Rollatini but Eileen wrote the blurb.

This soup makes a warm-you-up, rich treat for cold nights — a good excuse to buy chestnuts and use them for something other than roasting over an open fire and, of course, our favorite part… it delivers lots of cheese. Don’t skip finishing the soup with the Moscato wine. It really makes the dish.

Tip: Ana recommends buying flash-frozen peeled chestnuts because they can be difficult to peel — Specifically these. I chose to peel the raw ones. It took some time but wasn’t torturous. I also altered a few things like trading the chicken stock for vegetable and reduced the amount of kale. Enjoy!

(Read the rest of this post)

Tahdig is a Persian specialty. It’s the crispy layer that forms at the bottom of a pot of buttery rice if you let it cook long enough. Why should it be just a Persian thing? I think every pot of rice in America should have a crunchy bottom to it. Why not? Burning food is practically a national pastime.

I tried to make Tahdig a few times before I finally figured out a method that worked. Controlled burning is key. Follow the recipe to the word for a perfectly golden cripsy Tahdig.

(Read the rest of this post)

John was supposed to write this post because it’s his recipe…but suddenly someone has a new appreciation for those of us who find themselves making less-than-monthly blog posts.

The best parts of manicotti and eggplant parmesan duke it out for recognition in this dish. It’s got the fried, saucy, and cheesy basics of american-italian cooking succinctly expressed in a pan of home-cooked goodness. We find it useful to serve this up as an olive branch to any fiercely carnivorous dinner guests who arrive to our home wearing their vegetarian-food-suspicion right and plain on their faces. This is as approachable as it gets unless you are dealing with someone who is staunchly anti-vegetable…and in that case, just make this into manicotti.

(Read the rest of this post)

The funny thing about this recipe is that I’ve spent the better part of my life avoiding sumac. Not the spice, mind you, but its poisonous cousin that lurked in the wooded areas of my neighborhood. The consensus of the misinformation widely dispensed amongst my childhood peers was that within seconds of touching the scary red protrusion at the top of the plant, certain death will commence through rapid asphyxiation whilst a disfiguring rash envelopes your body, prompting your would-be saviour “friends” to run screaming, intent on getting as far away from your blistery oozing skin as possible.

Only recently, with great suspicion, did I try the exotic middle-eastern relative of that noxious monster from my youth. Lemony, tangy, and almost salty, I quickly took a liking to it and took pains to not hold my feelings about its nasty cousin against it.

Now, that I am sumac-comfortable, I find it pretty versatile in Mediterranean cusine. I am quite fond of it with the Greek grilling cheese Halloumi, the vegetarian barbecue boredom basher that casually knocks GardenBurgers and SmartDogs aside sans flinching. I recommend that you give it a shot at your next cookout and watch the loving adoration well up the eyes of your meat-avoiding friends.

(Read the rest of this post)

I’ve been on a spoonlicker hiatus. Perhaps you’ve noticed.

For the past 4 months, I have been studying for a potentially life-changing exam. I hate to even mention it because there’s a good chance that I am setting myself up for failure. Nevertheless, as we all know, there’s no place better than the internet for sharing your failures, so here we are.

I have been trying to find some time to try out new recipes, but aside from occupying nearly all my free time, studying has me so stressed out that I have regressed to eating mostly junkfood. Suddenly Velveeta has new importance in my life.

On the bright side, I have made some truly fantastic junkfood. I’m looking forward to sharing my discoveries in how to be an unhealthy vegetarian when I have a little more time on my hands. In the meantime, please send your good wishes and processed cheese products my way.

Fried pot pie sounds like something Paula Dean dreamed of last night, but it’s not what you think. I invited Michele over for dinner last Wednesday and about an hour before he was due to arrive, Nstar completely quit on us. Our gas range works in a blackout, but our poor oven was kaput. We could have gone to get dinner in a neighborhood with better electrical service, but we were too curious about what would happen if you tried to cook a pot pie on the stove top. None of us predicted that it would work as well as it did. I’m still feeling like a femme MacGyver over it. Part of me hopes our water or gas gets turned off someday.

(Read the rest of this post)

I’m learning that I’m not so great at fitting this food blog mold thing. I am having a hard time being effusive. I can’t gushingly write about the caramelly, sensuous, velvety wonderfulness of brown butter. Brown butter is good, yes. It can add a pleasant nuttiness and depth to almost anything. But. It is not the holy grail. I find it a little trendy and I was a little disappointed when I started experimenting with it. Once you pick up on its subtlety, you might be less disappointed. That said, it is rather good, because, well, it’s butter.

(Read the rest of this post)

I know I’m a day late and about 30 bucks short, but I need to get a post in about St-Germain. Actually, St-Germain *may* be partially responsible for why I wasn’t Johnny-on-the-spot with the blog posts anyhow.

If you’ve been eyeing that beautiful bottle of elderflower liqueur at your friendly local package store, let me save you any future hesitation by insisting that you buy it. Um, now.

I have taken to adding a little St-Germain to the champagne we had leftover from our Tree Trimming Party, and if that wasn’t already the perfect cocktail, I would be eagerly mixing new concoctions with abandon. As I’m working on tiring myself of this phase of obession, I’d love to hear what you’re doing with it.

Every now and then, a condiment or spice comes around that suddenly seems to be everywhere. For the past month or so, I keep reading about Spanish smoked paprika. They say that it’s the apogee of paprika experience. I only recently discovered that there was flavor beyond the tasteless red powder that my mom sprinkled on shepard’s pie twice a year when I was a kid, so I was blown away when I found how intense it can be.

Pimentón de la Vera comes in both dulce and picante versions, but we generally stick to the hot stuff. It packs a big smoky flavor along with a dangerously insidious heat. As a vegetarian, I’m a little unsure of where I like to put my smokiness- seems like it belongs on a ham hock or something, so we hit the cookbooks to get some instruction on where else to put it. We found a recipe that seemed to fit with the approach of Thanksgiving in Anya Von Bremzen’s The New Spanish Table. We like a little pain with our potatoes, but if that’s not your thing, you might try the dulce paprika. (Read the rest of this post)