Not Derby Pie

No food-friendly home is without its strange culinary rituals, and mine is no exception. Just ask a recent house guest, who during her 3-day stay caught me in the kitchen before 7 am in wet hair and a bathrobe on two separate occasions, cooking not eggs and toast as the normal people do, but strawberry-chili jam and walnut chocolate chip cookies. I like making elaborate things early in the morning; I’m a total weirdo.

Take another odd ritual in chez NDP: when summer rolls around, I start awkwardly hoarding empty yogurt tubs, filling them as quickly as possible with all sorts of cold summer soups: white gazpacho and chilled corn soup and more. Why I can’t use tupperware like the rest of earthlings, I don’t know. All I know is that cold soup ladled from recycled yogurt tubs on a hot and humid summer day makes me grin big.

[click to continue…]

Much of the Japanese food in DC is eaten in one of two ways: out of plastic trays delivered to your dorm room or office, or at the bar at one of two high-end establishments, eye to eye with the chef, and at great expense. The Sushi Taro of yore, which struck the precise midpoint between these two extremes, has been replaced by a third expensive (and excellent) restaurant.

Taro and its ilk are reserved for special occasions (say, engagements), and the other places are wholly unremarkable. So what’s a gal to do when she wants interesting Japanese food that doesn’t break the bank? Where are the mid-range, high-quality, lively-atmosphered Japanese restaurants? As it happens, they’re across town.

[click to continue…]

It’s Memorial Day weekend, and barbeque is king. No doubt you’ve seen more than enough burger recipes in the past 48 hours; don’t worry, that’s not what I’m sharing today. No, no. I’m here for the vegetarians and the newly-minted lessmeatarians. Let’s make sure they (um, we) are well cared for this holiday weekend. And, while there are approximately several thousand potluck-friendly vegetarian recipes, another never hurts. Because we all know Monday’s side dishes will be Tuesday’s tupperware lunch and Wednesday’s leftover dinner. So let’s make’em good, shall we?

If you make nothing else this weekend, you’ll be in great shape with this chickpea salad. It is dead simple to make, people. Embarrassingly so. I soaked and cooked fresh chickpeas, but if we’re being perfectly honest, there’s no need to go to all the fuss. Canned are absolutely fine here. And I know I often say what follows, but that’s because it’s true: this recipe is by no means set in stone. It can be altered in any number of ways, a few of which I list here. Don’t get hung up if you’re missing one or two of the ingredients. Green garlic can swap out for regular garlic, scallions for red onions, cumin seeds for the ground stuff, anardana for sumac, and now I’ll stop listing. If all you’ve got is chickpeas, cumin, feta, and lemon juice, you’re 90% of the way there. And while I’m sure tomatoes would be great in this salad the first time around, I really can’t stand them once their refrigerated, as leftovers always are, so I’ve left them out. Feel free to add them back in, if you’d like. If you’re cooking vegetarians, lessmeatarians, or plain ole’ people who can’t eat just burgers for 48 hours straight (yes, I recognize that that’s not an all-inclusive category), I guarantee this chickpea salad will please across the board.

[click to continue…]

First, dear readers, a housekeeping item. The spot of press that I’ve gotten over the past couple months was truly unexpected; I’ve spent a couple years in this here little corner of the web, so when people started to take notice, I wasn’t quite prepared. But as of yesterday, I’ve got a shiny new press page that shares links to places where NDP has gotten publicity, so that a) I don’t forget about where the blog has been profiled — I’m a bit forgetful — and b) I can share the good news with you, my wonderful readers and chearleaders. Thanks in advance for checking it out!

Now onward and upward, because I’ve been meaning to tell you about this soup for months.

Frozen corn isn’t exactly a staple in this house. We’ve got corn on the cob coming out of our ears (hehe), a freezer door full of six or seven different kinds of polenta, fancy heirloom hominy, and copious amounts of popcorn. But frozen corn rarely makes it through the door.

All that’s changed, though. In the past couple months, I’ve made variations on this soup at least four times. It’s a simple concept, really. Shallots are sauteed in butter (game over), corn and broth are added with plenty of good spices, and after a long 10 minutes on the stove, the soup is cooled, blended, and finished with buttermilk. Done.

But oh, you know me. I’m not one to leave a recipe alone. I’ve always got to tinker. So I tried adding coconut milk instead of buttermilk, for a Thai-inspired version. Then I added half coconut milk and half buttermilk (the perfect balance, if you ask me). I tried it with chicken broth and vegetable broth; I even tried it with plain water. (Not bad at all.) All said and done, it’s pretty hard to go wrong with this soup. The weather hasn’t even turned miserably hot, and already, it’s a staple.

But by the way, don’t wait for summer to make this, because truly truly, it’s great both hot and cold. No excuses: make this one now.

[click to continue…]

I find it hard to put a finger on what makes vanilla so special. It’s the girl next door to chocolate’s cheerleader popularity, the “best supporting actor” to every winning cake. Vanilla is so subtle, so modest, it’s easy to take it for granted. Well, don’t.

Since spring produce is in abundance, I’ve been playing around with fruit. You’ve seen me make my new favorite staple, rhubarb curd, and I’ve also whipped rhubarb into a lovely puree with thyme, inspired by yet another recipe on food52. But last week, the season’s first strawberries cropped up, so I shifted gears. I love strawberry season: it rings in the months of shortcake and jam (I made fantastic preserved strawberries with guajillo chilies, based on Amanda’s recipe on Food52). But when the whole market smells like strawberries, it’d be a sin not to serve at least some of the crop fresh and unadulterated. So I made a tart to showcase the sweet tartness of the early berries.

[click to continue…]

When I was a kid, my mom and I baked brownies about once a week. My mom had her homemade recipes, which of course are excellent — but as a kid, all I ever wanted was Duncan Hines. I would always make sure I was on my best behavior throughout, so that when we were done, I could take my spoon to the mixing bowl and lick it spotless. Duncan still has a special spot in my heart, but when I’m craving brownies these days, I turn to these. They’re a more grown-up, sophisticated version of the classic treat. Rest assured, they’ll quiet even the strongest of brownie cravings.

Other times, I want a nibble, an after-school snack of a brownie that’s just big enough and chocolatey enough to take the edge off my hunger and stave my appetite till dinner. That’s when these brownie buttons come in oh-so-handy. I can see the parents and babysitters sitting up straight in their chair: bring your kids one or two of these buttons, and I doubt they’ll give you a hard time for the rest of the evening. Ok, maybe just the babysitters will get off that easy — but I know I’d have liked to have these to give to those kids I used to sit for. Not that they weren’t wonderful. But pop a brownie in those little hands, and I can only imagine the little angels they’d have become!

[click to continue…]

A couple weeks ago, a bunch of us went to a newish restaurant in town. Within days of the restaurant’s grand opening, word of its 19-ingredient Singapore Slaw had spread like wildfire. If there was a gold medal for slaw affection, I’d have it. So naturally, I needed to go check it out.

I’d pretty much planned my meal in advance. I’d have an app of crudo or sushi, and the slaw as my main. But from the moment we sat down, I know we’d met trouble. We sat down, and the waitress asked if we’d been to the restaurant before. “Yes,” I said. I always lie about these things: saying “no” inevitably subjects you to a treatise on “what you’re about to experience,” or “how many dishes the chef recommends per person” (yes, we know the chef would like us to each plunk down 100 smackeroos, but it’s just not in the cards tonight, thanks), or, worse yet, which dishes we “absolutely must try” and which ones are “terrible and should be removed from the menu.” Ask and you shall receive, I suppose. I always say I’ve been to the restaurant before. Unfortunately, my companions were the wholesome, truthful types, and they revealed that it was our first time. Ten minutes later, we’d been coerced into ordering a slaw for the table while we mulled our orders.

I felt I couldn’t, in good conscience, be the girl who eats the same salad as an app and a main. I ordered the next-best thing on the menu (way too rich, not particularly delicious) and secretly stewed. The slaw had been salty and a bit sweet, crunchy and nutty and fresh and truly addictive. I was determined to have more.

[click to continue…]