The Perfect Bolognese

My husband and I are celebrating our sixth wedding anniversary this weekend. When we got married we couldn’t afford the fun European honeymoon we wanted to take, so we decided to wait until we could afford it. Four years later Erik surprised me with a trip to Brussels. Why Brussels?

When I was in college, my roommate and her family let me tag along on one of their yearly trips to France and Belgium, and I am still so grateful. I had a wonderful time. Paris was big and shiny, the south of France was gorgeous and fragrant, but the highlight of the trip, for me at least, was Brussels. I felt an immediate connection with it.

When one thinks of Europe, one usually thinks of Paris or London or Amsterdam—the biggies. Brussels is kind of the forgotten middle child of European cities: it doesn’t have all the bells and whistles and reputation of, say, Amsterdam (wink wink), but it is no less beautiful, historic, and full of things to do. My first impression of Brussels was that it was like a mini Paris, and since I lived in Boston at the time—a mini New York to a lot of people—that was something I liked. Also, I found the Brussilians very friendly, especially compared to the fast-paced Parisians.

It also just so happens that Belgium is known for some of my favorite foods: chocolate, white beer, waffles, and frites. In fact, when Erik and I went for our honeymoon, we spent one whole day going toe-to-toe with our favorite foods: for every waffle mounded with glorious toppings that he ate, I ate a big paper cone full of frites and sauce. I think we managed five rounds.

It was cold while we were there—it was mid-March—and we did a lot of walking. As a result, we worked up some man-sized hungers. One night, as we were walking around Ixelles, looking for a friendly restaurant for dinner, we happened upon an adorable little restaurant whose name, unfortunately, I have long since forgotten. Erik ordered pasta with bolognese sauce; I ordered something with a cream sauce spiced with nutmeg . . . I can’t quite remember what it was. But no matter, because Erik’s dish was the bees’ knees, and the whole meal was exactly what we needed to rejuvenate us mid-vacation. In fact, we enjoyed the restaurant so much that we returned a few nights later for the same dishes.

I’ve never tried making bolognese sauce from scratch—it always seemed like it might be one of those complicated, whole-day sauces. The flavors in a good bolognese are divine, though, and finally I decided it was time to start re-creating that awesome dish we had in Brussels.

I found a recipe that looked pretty reasonable: it didn’t require spending all day stirring a big cauldron of meaty sauce, and it also didn’t call for veal, a meat I have some ethical issues with. My abhorrence of veal may mean I will never make a true bolognese, but so be it.

The sauce was really, really good. I went light on the nutmeg, as it’s not my favorite spice, especially in large quantities, but it was a great meat sauce. I paired it with rigatoni, and the big tubes of pasta perfectly trapped the meaty chunks.

I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to match the sauce we had in Brussels, but I’m not sure I’d want to. There was so much more to the bolognese we had there—it was the perfect weather, we were in the perfect restaurant, in the perfect city, and I was with my soul mate. That would be pretty hard to re-create.

Pasta with Bolognese Sauce

A Super Easy Lunch

Did you know that lunch is a meal worth cooking for? I did not. Erik is home for lunch most days, and I usually end up making him a tuna melt, or a turkey melt, or some other meat/cheese/broiler combination. Or I heat up a can of chili. I'm that good.

I also have this bad habit of buying a bunch of chicken breasts at the store and then not using them before they go bad. I don’t know if it’s that I’m daunted by the idea of cooking them all, or that (more likely) the thought of eating yet another grilled chicken breast leaves me less than enthused. Whatever the reason, it’s a ridiculous waste of money and food.

I made shredded chicken years ago for a potluck and it was delicious. I remember being surprised at how easy it was to make such versatile and flavorful chicken. So, since I had a pound of chicken tenders in the fridge and no real plan for them, I thought I’d try making some shredded chicken tacos for lunch.

I put the chicken tenders in a pot, covered them with chicken stock and a bit of water, added some chopped onion, garlic, thyme, oregano, and black pepper, and brought to a boil. I let the whole thing simmer for about five minutes, turned off the heat, and put a lid on the pot. After about half an hour I pulled out the chicken and shredded it in a bowl, adding a bit of the poaching liquid to moisten it.

I heated up some fresh flour tortillas, and filled them up with the shredded chicken, some hot sauce, salad greens, onions, and just a bit of shredded cheese. The tacos were so good for lunch that we also ate them for dinner.

Homemade Pizza

My dad has the lockdown on homemade pizza. If you ask him even a passing question about how he does it, he will happily launch into a detailed explanation of the best dough to use, how to make your own mini pizza oven, or what the best toppings might be. My dad is a chowhound, and he has a truly deep passion for cooking. But I would say his pizza is his signature dish.

I am a purist when it comes to pizza. For me, the fewer toppings, the better. I’ll take a thin slice of pizza margherita over a deep-dish meat-lover’s orgy any day of the week. Like most foods, if you use good ingredients, you don’t need to distract the taste buds with a hundred different flavors and textures. Tomatoes, mozzarella, a good thin crust, and maybe some oil and herbs. Done.

Of course, I’m also a huge fan of white pizza. Martusciello’s Bakery in my hometown has the best white pizza I’ve ever had. Olive oil, parmesan cheese, and lots of onions and garlic. It’s a perfect Friday night food.

On Monday I thought I’d try my hand at homemade pizza. I knew it wouldn’t be as good as my dad’s, but in time maybe I’ll be able to give him a run for his money.

I followed Cook’s Illustrated’s recipe for Whole Wheat Pizza Margherita, but only made one with tomatoes and cheese. The other pizza I topped with garlic, olive oil, some crispy bacon, and a pile of caramelized red onions. Both pizzas were awesome. Erik preferred the margherita while I preferred the onion/bacon combo, but we agreed that were both delicious.

The pizza dough was so easy to make, there is no way I will ever buy pre-made pizza dough ever again. Ever.

Whole Wheat Pizza Margherita

Pork-Wrapped Pork is Always a Winner

We made plans for a couple of friends to come over for dinner on Saturday night, so I really saw it as an opportunity to stretch my culinary wings. The fear I decided to confront on this particular occasion was my fear of cooking meat.

I blame my parents for this fear. I don’t blame them in the way that some people blame their parents for all their problems in adulthood. I blame them only because, for a large portion of my childhood, we were a vegetarian family. I have absolutely no regrets or sad memories of this. In fact, I think my parents did a bang-up job of raising me (if I do say so myself). However, if a finger must be pointed, then I point it at them: J’accuse!

All that healthy living early on prevented me from learning how to properly handle and cook meat products. The first time I can recall cooking chicken on my own was well into my college years, when a friend came to visit me in Boston. He grudgingly showed me the intricacies of cutting the tendon from the tenderloin, and properly washing all surfaces after coming in contact with the raw meat. All very new to me. Sure, I had no problem eating chicken fingers in a bar, but to actually prepare meat myself was just otherworldly.

After meeting and then moving in with my now husband, Erik, I got a little more adept at cooking chicken, but I never really caught on to preparing other types of meats. Ground beef I could handle, but not burgers or chops or steaks. Any time I tried something new, I would get overwhelmed and frazzled, and do something wrong at some point, and end up with an overcooked burger or burnt pork chops (hypothetically speaking, of course). Then I’d be frustrated and give up on cooking for a long while.

So it’s only natural that, in this new adventurous cooking phase of my life, I would start it off by confronting my fear of raw meat head-on. I found a good-looking recipe for something that sounded tasty, and followed the recipe to a “t.” The result was only slightly dry, and only because we had to wait a while for our company to arrive, and I probably shouldn’t have kept the pork loin in a warm oven the whole time. Lesson learned. It was still delicious.

I wasn’t sure what to pair the pork with, and I think this is another place where I get overwhelmed. I obsess about the perfect sides, and then I bite off more than I can comfortably chew, and get overwhelmed with prepping and cooking elaborate accompaniments. This time, I decided to let the pork speak for itself, and just threw together a simple salad with ingredients I already had in the fridge. I didn’t hear a single complaint. Our guests brought over a loaf of bread and BAM—we had ourselves a lovely meal.

Bacon-Wrapped Maple Pork Loin

The First Post

I’ve never been much of a cook. A baker, sure, but the savory, nutritious stuff has never been my thing. When asked if I can cook, I usually respond, “I can assemble food products into a meal.”

As the one in charge of meals and cooking in my house, the daunting task of planning and executing a dinner that both my husband and I enjoy is often too overwhelming, and so I end up settling on a frozen pizza and some salad, or Zatarain’s Red Beans and Rice and tortilla chips. Dining out has always been a good stand-by for us, as we are both picky eaters in our own ways, though my compulsive alternating dietary restrictions tend to limit even those options. Finding a restaurant where Erik can get a stick-to-your-ribs meat-and-potatoes kind of meal and I can get a non-dairy, no soy, vegetarian meal is frustratingly difficult.

So, meals tend to be unsatisfying on a good day, and downright disappointing on a bad day. I’ve gone through phases in which I cook regularly, but there comes a point at which I either get bored, get frustrated, or get lazy. And then we’re back to pizza and Zatarain’s.

But I have a daughter now, and I don’t want to raise her to believe that home cooking is something you get at Hoover’s, or that a healthy portion of meat is the chorizo-stuffed chicken at Trudy’s. I want her to enjoy food and all its complexities, but also learn what’s healthy and unhealthy for her body, mind, and spirit.

As the sole food-preparer in the house, this duty falls on my shoulders. I have some big obstacles to overcome:

1. We need to branch out quite a bit. I tend toward, when cooking at home, some combination of chicken breasts, rice or pasta, and a vegetable of some sort. No wonder I get bored. I’d like to try cooking with things like morels, kale, and quail. Not complicated or exotic ingredients, just those I’ve always been too intimidated to try.

2. Vegetables first! I think the key to a well-balanced meal is to make vegetables the main component, then accompany them with healthy-sized portions of meat and starch.

3. We need to seriously cut back on the sweets and junk food. It’s stuff that we really only eat if it’s there, so if it’s not there I’d like to think we might not eat so much. I don’t plan on hiding my daughter from things like Doritos and ice cream, but they should be occasional treats, not kitchen staples.

Great plan, right? Well, we’ll see. It’s one thing to say all this now, before Eliza has even started eating solid foods, and another thing entirely (I’ve heard) to try to get a stubborn toddler to eat her vegetables. I accept that there may very well come a time when Eliza only eats chicken nuggets, or purple foods, or Cheerios, but I will cross that bridge when I come to it.