Scallops and Couscous

New England made a permanent impression on me, as evidenced by my linguistic and culinary relationship with scallops. Before moving to Boston, I had never eaten a scallop. I had no interest in scallops. As you can probably tell by the near complete lack of seafood recipes on this site, I’m not much of a fish eater, though I do continually vow to introduce it into my diet more often. And I thought scallops were some of the grossest of the gross in the aquatic world. They just looked like slimy blobs, and who wants to eat slimy blobs? Well, thanks to Boston’s seafood-heavy culture, and to Mr. X, I now want to eat slimy blobs, as long as those slimy blobs are scallops.

And yes, I cannot help myself from pronouncing this word as “scaw-lops,” in true New England fashion. And for this I blame one of my favorite library school professors, who had an old school Cantabrigian (as in, Massachusetts) accent, and liked to use scallops as an example in data modeling lessons, for reasons I will never really know.

Lentils with Tuna and Caramelized Shallots

I will be the first to admit that this is not the most attractive meal. However, it is so darned tasty and easy that, from its first accidental inception in my kitchen it has rapidly become one of my favorite easy, inexpensive weeknight dinners. The lentils, cooked with a bit of Worcestershire sauce, are rich and silky and delicious on their own, but paired with good quality Italian tuna and crispy, sweet caramelized onions, they feel positively indulgent.

The trick to making this really, very good is to use good tuna, packed in olive oil. Mushy, watery Chicken of the Sea simply will not do. I’m sure that a pan-seared tuna fillet would be excellent, but part of the ease of this dinner lies in the canned tuna, which is, for me, a pantry staple.

Kuri Squash Gratin

I love the end of September. I love the way we seem to be hovering between summer and fall: Cool mornings and sunny afternoons, the crisp smell of colder weather in the air, but no need to pull the jacket out of the closet just yet, and still plenty of zucchini at the farmers’ market, right alongside the first of the winter squashes. As much as the harsh New England winters made me hate the cold, I have to admit I love sweaters and casseroles and big pots of chili, and someday, I swear, I’ll have a fireplace, and I’ll probably light fires in it at the first sign of the inkling of a frost.

This gratin is tailor made for this time of year: It is super comfort food, but isn’t so heavy you’ll need to lie prostrate on the couch after eating it. And it combines winter squash and summer squash in perfect balance, just like late September.

Happy Pigs and Tasty Potato Salad

When I decided to move to Walla Walla, I started doing my research, and was pleased to discover Thundering Hooves, a local farm and butcher shop that sells humanely- and sustainably-raised meats. It was surprisingly difficult to find pastured meat in Boston, and when I did find it, it either had to be ordered way ahead or bought in large quantities. The possibility of walking into a butcher shop and walking out with something for dinner that night, something I knew had been raised and fed humanely, well, it was pretty exciting.

For some reason, though, it took me over six weeks to find the time to go check it out. But finally, this week, I left work a little early (the place closes at 5!) and bought me some happy meat.

One Last New England Lobster

One of the things on my Things to Do in Boston Before I Move list was cooking lobster. I probably should have re-phrased that, though, to read “Make Mr. X cook me lobster” because when it came down to it, well, I wussed out. There is just something about those things that gives me the heebie-jeebies, even after they’re dead. But I’ve got myself a pretty great man, and when I told him I wanted lobster, he took on all the heavy lifting of this particular cooking project without complaint. He even bought an extra lobster so I could make lobster risotto later in the week.

Fiddlehead Ferns, at last

Here it is, my last two weeks in Boston. And I have to say, it has been a pretty lame spring so far. I know that June can often be gloomy and disappointing, but I had hoped that New England would give me a break and throw me some sunshine, just so I could leave with fond memories, rather than the reassurance I already feel that moving back to the west coast was the right idea.

The hardest part of a late and crappy spring? I’m still waiting for all those lovely spring vegetables Bon Appetit has been bragging about for the last two months. Our farmer’s markets are still pretty darned paltry, where they are even open at all. And I thought that I had missed the narrow window for Fiddlehead ferns, a treat I’m not so sure will be available in Walla Walla, Washington. But once again, it was Mr. X to the rescue: He found these at the market last week and bought them up for me, because he’s pretty swell like that.

Moroccan-spiced Braised Root Vegetables

The end of February is a time when I start getting really tired of root vegetables. I’m longing for heirloom tomatoes and berries and fresh leafy greens. But this delicious bowl of spicy braised potatoes and squash brightens up gloomy February a little bit and makes me less resentful toward the tubers. As I try to eat more seasonally and more locally, I’m learning just how much more creative you have to be when it’s winter in New England. I generally roast root vegetables, but I started getting a bit bored with roasted potatoes, so I thought I’d try my hand at braising. And I am glad I did. This was fast and easy, and it could be a very versatile dinner: Different seasonings could make this a totally different meal. But these flavorings were spot on for cold, wet, windy winter.

National Carrot Day Song

Dinner’s not quite ready yet, but to tide you over, here’s a lovely little song about carrots. Hilarious.

Sometimes you just need a quiche

Quiche is one of my favorite things. It’s something I remember my mom making when I was a kid, a special event brunch kind of food. I have memories of mom squeezing and squeezing so much defrosted spinach in paper towels, and I think quiche was one of the first egg-based dishes I ever actually liked. And when Smitten Kitchen featured spinach quiche a few weeks ago, it was all over. I had a craving, and I needed a quiche.

Thank goodness for all that leftover pie dough from my nectarine galette experiment. The pie dough is the only potentially tricky thing about quiche, and honestly? Most of the time I buy it pre-made, because who needs to fuss with that stuff in the morning anyway? Not that I think quiche must be relegated to breakfast. In fact, this quiche made several satisfying lunches and dinners for me. And thank goodness for tart pans. I never thought to make quiche in a tart pan before; I’ve always used 9-inch pie pans. But the tart pan, while it does produce a thinner quiche, halves the cooking time, which made me very happy when I was very hungry. Who woulda thunk it? Oh, yeah, Deb at Smitten Kitchen.

Curried Cauliflower and Potatoes with Black Beluga Lentils

A few weeks ago I rambled on and on here about how great it is to share recipes with people you actually know, to keep a collection of recipes given to you by friends and family, passing on traditions and stories and all that sentimental stuff. And then I admitted that some of the most fundamental things I learned about cooking I learned from the internet. I’m such a hypocrite.

Well, here is another recipe passed along to me by a friend. She knew I like to cook, and one evening she handed me a sheet of paper with this recipe scrawled across it. I thought, “That looks kind of boring,” and I filed it away in my recipe folder and promptly forgot about it. Until last week. Let me tell you, it’s not boring at all. And while it might not be that attractive, don’t let its relative monochrome palette deter you. This stuff is wonderful. It’s both exotic and comforting at the same time. Alright, I might leave out the lentils in the future, and serve it over rice pilaf instead, but serve it again I most certainly will. Even if I’m just serving it to myself.