I wish I had been armed with Debbie Koenig’s new cookbook when my son was in utero. Parents Need to Eat Too should be required reading for every expectant family. Feeding oneself, and one’s child (or children), can be a delicate balancing act that requires finesse, patience and creativity. Koenig takes the fear out of re-entering the kitchen post-baby.

While Koenig’s book is really geared towards new parents, with chapters like nap-friendly cooking, recipes to support breastfeeding and so on, I find the simplicity and healthfulness of the recipes is going to help me in my quest for a cohesive and positive meal experience. This book is not just for new parents who need encouragement, support and ideas but for seasoned parents who need time-management tips to get healthy, family-friendly meals on the table.

Like most parents of toddlers, I exhaust resources trying to please the unpleasable. I waste food feeding a hunger-strike prone toddler whose mealtimes consist of flying morsels and a heaping spoonful of negativity. Money wanes buying raw ingredients for recipe testing. And of course there’s the time it takes to think up recipes that will adequately hide protein and vegetables, do the shopping and of course cook the meal.

Koenig’s book can help people like me. I need to better manage my prep time so we can all eat dinner together as a family, build a community around the table and create a better environment for emulation. Time-management is the name of the game and I certainly need Debbie Koenig in my corner.

Parents Need to Eat Too has over 150 recipes that were each tested by real-life parents and include a “Mama said” testimonial from Koenig’s recipe testers, as well as instructions to recreate the meals as baby food. Everything is healthy, well-written and simple to prepare.

Chapters range from one pot dishes to recipes for the non-cook to meals that can be eaten with one hand like meat pasties, curried kale and apple empanadas and baked eggplant and chickpea samosas. Nap-friendly cooking is the chapter for me and Koenig reminds me to take advantage of my slow cooker and my freezer by making crockpot butternut squash risotto and red wine-braised short ribs and large batches of chicken tagine with dried fruit and almonds and grilled eggplant parmesan.

In the words of Debbie Koenig herself, “While before you may have sought authenticity and even perfection in your cooking, now you’ll be seeking deliciousness and doability.” Words to live by.

In honor of all the hardworking moms out there, I’m giving away one copy of Parents Need to Eat Too for Mother’s Day. Leave a comment telling me what easy recipes have worked for you as a parent. Or else I’d love to know your time-saving tips and techniques.

-Leave comment on this post between Sunday, May 13 and Saturday, May 19, 11:59PM EST.
-One entry per person, no anonymous comments.
-Open US residents only. Winner will be chosen randomly, notified via email and announced on this site. A copy of Parents Need to Eat Too will be shipped via USPS.

With its lemony color and artistically sweeping curves, I felt regret dissecting nature’s work of art. Guilt heavy in my heart, I sank my knife into its thick body and prepped it for a higher calling.

Oyster mushrooms have a delicate but almost briny flavor, like their namesake, and pair well with eggs. They emit a subtly dirty aroma when raw and an almost custardy, creamy odor when cooked. A touch of olive oil or butter renders them succulent and rich, their flaky flesh morphing into tender, luscious meat.

Layered, light-as-air puff pastry is the canvas for my tart. Mushrooms beg for cream and cheese, and buttery Taleggio, velvety crème fraiche and nutty Gruyère happily cradle the golden, bubbly nooks and crannies of the pastry. A scattering of barky shiitake and pastel farm-fresh eggs build on the earthy, briny and creamy qualities of the tart.

The stall next to the mushrooms was selling lime-hued spring onions and chives which I knew would look and taste the part, and add a pop of grassy color. Utilizing both the tangy whites and sweet greens of the onion adds depth of flavor, and the green bits crisp pleasantly around the edges when cooked.

We gobbled up the tart in minutes, a perfect harmony of spring’s bounty. Perhaps we should have paced ourselves, savoring every mellifluous bite, letting the luxurious flavors melt on our tongues. But alas, we were very hungry and I have a hard time going slowly with any food drizzled in truffle oil, the heady perfume bewitching me nose to lips!

Spring Mushroom Tart with Green Onions and Farm Fresh Eggs

1 sheet puff pastry dough
1 egg, lightly beaten, with 1 tablespoon water
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons butter
1 pound assorted spring mushrooms (such as oyster, shiitake), sliced
1 teaspoon fresh thyme, finely chopped
2 spring onions, green parts roughly torn, white parts thinly slices
1 teaspoon garlic
Salt and pepper to taste
1/4 cup crème fraiche
1/2 cup Gruyère, grated
1 1/2 ounces Taleggio, broken apart into small chunks
3-4 eggs
Chives
Truffle oil for drizzling

1. Thaw the puff pastry dough according to package instructions.

2. Heat olive oil in a large pan over medium-high heat. Add mushrooms and sauté until soft, about 5 minutes. Season with salt, pepper and thyme. Add butter and white part of onions to pan and continue to cook until golden, about 3 minutes. Stir in garlic and cook for about 30 seconds. Transfer mushrooms to a small bowl and set aside.

3. Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

4. Roll out thawed dough on a lightly floured surface to a 13 x 9 1/2-inch rectangle. Transfer dough to a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Using a paring knife lightly score a border 1/2-inch from the edge of the dough, making sure not to cut all the way through. Pierce the inside of the dough all over with a fork. Brush the border with the egg wash.

5. Spread crème fraiche over the puff pastry inside the border. Sprinkle with half the cheese and half the mushrooms and then one more layer of each.

6. Lay the onion greens over the tart and bake for 15 minutes, rotating the pan halfway through baking.

7. Remove pan from the oven and crack the eggs onto the tart. Bake about 10 minutes, or until the egg whites are set and yolks are still runny.

8. Clip chives with scissors over tart and drizzle with truffle oil. Serve immediately.

Yield: Serves 3 to 4 people.

The fractured, cheek-chaffing weather has turned a corner. The first demure buds begin stretching their limbs, awakening from a subterranean slumber. Instantaneously I begin craving grilled foods. But New York City life, for us, means no grill. I yearn for food that’s been kissed by hot coals, drenched in fiery goodness, ensconced in flames.

Though I tend to eschew red peppers in the raw, roasting them on high heat renders their sweetness, releasing an aroma akin to a feverous campfire. Scorch peppers on high heat and you get burnt, charred, bubbly skin. Cooking them removes the mild bitterness I dislike bestowing a sweet earthiness, their natural crunchiness making way for soft, tender flesh.

There are endless ways to utilize roasted red peppers but my favorite is marinated in fruity extra virgin olive oil, pungent raw garlic, spicy chili pepper flakes and sour lemon slices. Leave them to sit overnight in a mason jar so the flavors meld.

To make marinated roasted red peppers, remove them from the oven, blackened and blistered. Let them briefly macerate in their own sticky, syrupy juices and then peel back their ashen, loosely fitting coats.

I want to emphasize that although I store the peppers in a mason jar, this is not a proper canning method. The peppers are marinated, not preserved, and should keep a week or two in the refrigerator.

Serve the glassy peppers on a rustic sandwich or blended with pine nuts, walnuts and a touch of cream for a sweet and earthy pasta sauce. Eat them alone with a few anchovies and capers dusted with aromatic, lemony basil or use them to elevate a custardy poached egg.

This time I served them to my family curled snugly over crackly, peppery garlic toasts, layered with fluffy pillows of creamy, salty, tart goat cheese and a light drizzle of the marinade liquid. Fragrant oil infiltrates the bread, each bite a mélange of sweet and salt, crunchy and chewy, creamy and earthy.

Spicy, Garlicky Marinated Red Peppers
5 Red Bell Peppers
3-4 Garlic Cloves, thinly sliced
4 1/2-inch thick lemon slices, seeds removed
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
Extra Virgin Olive Oil
Kosher salt to taste

Equipment: 1-pint canning jar

1. Position rack in top of third of oven and preheat broiler on high.

2. Clean and dry peppers and lay them on their sides on a foil-lined baking sheet. Roast in oven until first side is blackened, about 10 minutes. Rotate peppers with tongs until all sides are evenly charred, about 25-35 minutes total, depending on size of peppers.

3. Transfer hot peppers to a large bowl or casserole dish and cover tightly with plastic wrap. Set aside at room temperature, about 20 minutes, until peppers are wrinkly and cool enough to handle.

4. Remove stems, seeds and skin from peppers and cut into 1-inch strips. Set aside peppers and their juices in a clean bowl.

5. Add peppers and pepper juice to canning jar, along with sliced garlic, pepper flakes slices and salt. Mix gently with a spoon until well combined, being careful not to break up peppers. Add lemon slices to outside edges of jar, pushing them down with a spoon, and cover with olive oil.

6. Cover with lid and store in refrigerator about 12 hours. Use within 7-10 days.

Thanks to everyone who particpated in The Apple Lover’s Cookbook giveaway. I am grateful for your comments and enthusiasm.  I also share a love of apples+savory and appreciate those with a similar sensibility.

The winner of the cookbook was generated at random.

Congrats Lucky Number 13 Jill A!  I will be in touch to arrange delivery of your prize.

*Giveaway closed.

More than a recipe book, The Apple Lover’s Cookbook is a kaleidoscopic encyclopedia celebrating apples from a cultural perspective, as well as their impressive versatility and nuanced flavor subtleties. In Amy Traverso’s comprehensive tome, she categorizes apples based on taste and texture and delves into the ubiquitous fruit’s history. Traverso is not only an enthusiast but a true apple sommelier.

The book contains a stunningly glossy and vibrant guide to 59 apple varieties, each life-like photograph complete with flavor profiles, origin, availability and best uses in recipes. She takes us on the apple’s initial journey from Asia to America and introduces us to some of the industry’s most important players, from growers preserving heirlooms to the scientists breeding new varieties.

I loved reading about Red Apple Farm in Phillipston, Massachusetts that boasts home to the magical grafting tree. Al Rose, the farm’s proprietor, describes it as a “Technicolor tree” draped in multiple diverse apple varieties, which have been grafted and crossbred over time.

First and foremost, however, this book is a cookbook, with apple-centric recipes running the gamut from sweet to savory. Traverso includes a useful guide demonstrating the best ways to use each type of apple in cooking as well as an abridged cheat-sheet for easy substitutions, in case the variety of choice is unavailable.

She gives us the expected, like comforting apple pies, crisps and tarts. But she also gives us the unexpected, such as braised brisket with apples and hard cider and cider-braised pork with calvados. The thought of apple pie with cheddar-sage crust stirs a deep anticipation for apple season!

In addition to cooking tips, advice on proper apple storage and even a guide on peeling and coring apples, Traverso teaches us how to pair cider and cheese and provides a list of the country’s foremost apple festivals. She also lists notable apple products such as apple butter, apple tea and apple sorbet.

The Apple Lover’s Cookbook is an indispensably informative and inspiring guide to fans of the noble apple. Amy Traverso has written a classic book you will certainly want to add to your collection. And on that note, W.W. Norton & Company, the publisher, was kind enough to provide a copy of The Apple Lover’s Cookbook to give away. If you’d like a chance to win a copy, leave a comment stating your favorite apple dish, sweet or savory.

-Leave comment on this post between Thursday, March 15 and Monday, March 26, 11:59 EST.
-One entry per person, no anonymous comments.
-Open US residents only. Winner will be chosen randomly, notified via email and announced on this site. A copy of The Apple Lover’s Cookbook will be shipped via USPS.

Fluffy and soft, the sweet flesh of a homemade marshmallow gently billows under light touch. Wrapped in a blanket of fine, snow-like confectioners’ sugar, each chewy bite sticks to the gums, leaving behind nothing but feathery saccharine fingerprints.

I cannot recall the first time I tasted a homemade marshmallow, perfect pillowy clouds of meringue and sugar, whipped and set until silken and cottony. Though I’ve always had an unbridled love for anything gummy and chewy, I was never a fan of the mass-produced, waxy marshmallow, unless charred beyond recognition and stuffed between brittle graham crackers and oozing with warm dark chocolate. I much prefer their “adult” counterpart, a playfully bouncy confection with a sneeze-inducing, powdery jacket.

I had uncharacteristically decided to make rose marshmallows for my family on Valentine’s Day. Despite a decade with my husband, we have never been romantic Valentine’s Day devotees, in part because we feel V-Day is an overblown excuse for cheap chocolate. The one and only time we capitulated, we found ourselves waiting six hours for a less-than-mediocre meal and ended up at In-N-Out burger for a night cap. As a hard and fast rule we opt out of February 14. This year was no exception though I, somewhat shamefully, found myself craving ubiquitous chocolates and sentimental heart-shaped pastries and above all, sweet but exotic rose-scented marshmallows.

Traditional marshmallows are meringue-based. Many recipes require the use of raw egg whites, which are beaten and added to a hot, whipped mixture of sugar, corn syrup and gelatin. Alternatively, pasteurized egg whites or powered egg whites can be used in place of raw, unpasteurized eggs. Many people prefer eggless recipes, which I find yield less airy marshmallows and a stringier batter. Eggs add a weightless, bouncy quality to the marshmallows.

When making rose marshmallows pick your rose syrup or rose water carefully. I normally prefer rose water, a distillation of rose petals that has a heady perfume. This time I used red-hued rose syrup, which has the added benefit of tinting the marshmallows a subdued blush complexion, reminiscent of fluffy pink icing.

Make sure to taste your syrup or water before finalizing a quantity. Some are richer and more deeply concentrated than others. Too much will overwhelm the delicate nature of the confection. For a more subtle, aromatic quality, use less.

Rose Marshmallows
Adapted from Gourmet Magazine

3/4 cup confectioners’ sugar
1/4 cup potato starch or corn starch
2 tablespoons plus 2 1/2 teaspoons unflavored gelatin
1/2 cup cold water
2 cups granulated sugar
1/2 cup light corn syrup
1/2 cup hot water (about 115 degrees)
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 large egg whites
1 teaspoon vanilla
3 1/2 teaspoons rose syrup

1. Oil bottom and sides of a 13x9x2-inch metal baking pan, and dust bottom and sides with confectioners’ sugar/ starch mixture.

2. In bowl of a standing electric mixer, or in a large bowl, sprinkle gelatin over cold water and let stand to soften.

3. In a 3-quart heavy saucepan cook granulated sugar, corn syrup, hot water, and salt over low heat, stirring with a wooden spoon, until sugar is dissolved. Increase heat to moderate and boil mixture, without stirring, until a candy or digital thermometer registers 240 degrees, about 12 minutes. Remove pan from heat and pour sugar mixture over gelatin mixture, stirring until gelatin is dissolved.

4. With standing or a hand-held electric mixer beat mixture on high speed until white, thick, and nearly tripled in volume, about 6 minutes if using standing mixer or about 10 minutes if using hand-held mixer.

5. In a large bowl beat whites until they just hold stiff peaks. Beat whites, rose syrup and vanilla into sugar mixture until just combined. Pour mixture into baking pan and sift 1/4 cup confectioners’/starch evenly over top. Chill marshmallow, uncovered, until firm, at least 3 hours, and up to 1 day.

6. Run a thin knife around edges of pan and invert pan onto a large cutting board. Lifting up 1 corner of inverted pan, loosen marshmallow and let drop onto cutting board. With a large knife trim edges of marshmallow and cut into roughly 1-inch cubes. Sift remaining confectioners’ sugar/starch into a large bowl and add marshmallows in batches, tossing to evenly coat. Marshmallows keep in an airtight container at cool room temperature 1 week.

Yield: Makes 35-40 marshmallows.

After tasting Chef Harold Dieterle’s pitch-perfect signature duck meatballs at his West Village eatery Perilla, I was hooked. While meatballs are the dish-of-the-moment, Dieterle’s stray from convention: piquant, tender duck balls paired with homemade mint and ricotta cavatelli in a rich, velvety broth.

The meatballs are fatty ground duck mixed with panko and seasoned with licorice-flavored Thai basil and given a tongue-titillating bite with Sriracha. The finished dish is crowned with a delicate, yet decadent raw quail egg, giving the meatballs and dumplings a satiny richness. Chef Dieterle conjures up flavor profile combinations I’ve never tasted- fruity and herbaceous, spicy hot, earthy and creamy. Flavor nuances unfurl with every bite.

The most difficult aspect of making this dish at home, for me, was rolling the dumplings. I do not have a cavatelli mold and it took more than several misguided attempts to find my groove. Once I was able to comfortably roll the cavatelli, each piece looked more perfect than the previous.

There are several versions of Harold Dieterle’s recipe available online. I skipped out on the water spinach he uses at Perilla, mostly because it was not included in the version of the recipe I used. Though I know the chef prefers to grind his own meat, I had my local butcher do it for me, rather than toiling away with my insufficient meat grinder.

Chef Dieterle recommends using duck stock for his meatballs. If duck stock is unavailable or you do not have time to make your own, use a reduced chicken stock. If all else fails, veal stock is a fine option. However, I went out on a limb and used a combination of brown chicken stock, duck stock and veal stock purchased at an artisanal butcher.

Artfully plated, the meatballs are nestled in a warm bowl with chewy-tender mint cavatelli, moistened by spicy, deeply rich broth. Sprinkled with creamy parmesan, a delicate quail egg perched demurely on top, this dish is concurrently rich, surprising and comforting.

Duck Meatballs with Mint Cavatelli
Adapted from Harold Dieterle 

Mint Cavatelli:
1/3 cup fresh ricotta cheese
1 large egg
Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons chopped mint
Olive oil

Duck Meatballs:
3 teaspoons olive oil
1 onion, very finely chopped
5 cloves garlic, very finely chopped
1 pound ground duck
1 tablespoon coarsely chopped basil
2 tablespoons chile sauce such as sriracha or sambal
1/4 cup panko
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper
3 shallots, sliced crosswise
2 plum tomatoes, chopped
1/2 cup white wine
8 cups brown chicken stock, veal stock, duck stock or combination
8 sprigs fresh thyme
4 tablespoons butter, cut into small pieces
4 teaspoons chopped mint
4 teaspoons chopped chives
Freshly grated Parmesan cheese, for serving
4 quail eggs

To make mint cavatelli:
1. In a large bowl, mix together ricotta and eggs; season with salt and pepper. Gradually sift in 3/4 cup flour. Add mint and knead mixture until a dough forms. Turn dough out onto work surface and knead a few more times until smooth; form dough into a ball, cover with plastic wrap, and let stand 30 minutes.
Sprinkle work surface with remaining 2 tablespoons flour. Turn dough out onto floured work surface and knead flour into dough. Roll out dough until it is 1/4 inch thick. Using a sharp knife, cut dough into 1-inch-wide strips. Run dough through a cavatelli maker or cut each strip into 1-by-1/2-inch pieces.

2. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Generously salt boiling water and return to a boil. Add cavatelli to boiling water and cook until tender and floats to the surface, about 1 1/2 minutes. Drain and transfer cavatelli to a baking sheet. Drizzle with olive oil and let cool.

To make duck meatballs:
1. Heat 1 teaspoon olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add onion and 3 cloves garlic. Cook, stirring, until translucent, about 5 minutes; remove from heat and let cool.

2. Add onion and garlic mixture to a large bowl, along with, ground duck, basil, chile sauce, panko, and eggs. Knead mixture until well combined; season with salt and pepper. Transfer mixture to refrigerator and let chill for 30 minutes.

3. Preheat oven to 425 degrees.

4. Remove duck mixture from refrigerator and form into 1 1/2- to 2-inch balls. Transfer to a baking sheet. Transfer baking sheet to oven and cook for 10 minutes.

5. Heat 1 teaspoon olive oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add remaining 2 cloves garlic, 1 shallot, and plum tomatoes. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 2 minutes. Add wine and cook until liquid is reduced by half, about 4 minutes. Add stock and thyme; let simmer for 20 minutes.

6. Strain liquid through a fine mesh strainer set over another large saucepan, discarding solids. Transfer meatballs to liquid and place over medium heat. Let meatballs simmer until cooked through, about 30 minutes.

7. Heat remaining teaspoon olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add remaining 2 shallots and cook, stirring occasionally, until translucent, about 2 minutes. Add meatballs and their cooking liquid, cavatelli, butter, mint, and chives; let cook for 2 minutes.

8. Divide mixture evenly between 4 bowls. Sprinkle over freshly grated parmesan cheese and crack a quail egg into each bowl; serve immediately.

Yield: 4 servings

For many, tasting an oyster for the first time is a memorable culinary milestone. Crisp, icy flesh slides down the throat, sometimes delighting, sometimes shocking and sometimes revolting. Nuanced, briny flavors stimulate the tongue. Consuming something so fresh and dynamic, tasting of the vivacious environment from which it came, titillates thrill-seekers and pleasure-hunters.

I recently brought home a half dozen Kusshi, which are still somewhat rare on the East Coast. Kusshis are grown in British Columbia. The name means “precious” in Japanese and they are known for their deep, cavernous shell which yields plump, soft and juicy flesh, and a clean, smooth flavor.

I love most oysters: big, small, tender, chewy, coppery, lemony, brassy, cucumbery, sweet, melony and creamy. Sometimes nothing beats Wellfleet oysters, ubiquitous on the East Coast, and the very first variety I ever tasted. Eating Wellfleets recalls trips to Cape Cod, the smell of the salty air, the sand between my toes, the oysters tasting sweetly of Atlantic Ocean seaweed. I find myself partial to Pacific Northwest oysters, however, like the Kusshi or Kumamoto, both petite and sweet, tender and juicy.

I hadn’t opened an oyster in over ten years when we brought the Kusshis home. Prying an oyster open is a primal act. A quick twist of the wrist reveals a creature’s habitat, exposing its naked, still-quivering flesh, ready for instantaneous consumption. Eating the tiny bivalve is visceral because of their rawness. Nary a minute lapses between life, death and mastication. Opening an oyster for the first time is thrilling but also an emotional rite of passage.

Oyster purists prefer their bivalves undressed or with a simple squeeze of lemon, revealing their uniquely briny personalities and ocean-salt nuances. I served the Kusshis plain and dressed up with apple kimchi and yuzu mignonette. Kusshis are ideal unadorned, their small bodies tender and fleshy between the gums and their flavor delicate and sweet.

While the apple kimchi is bold and sweet, and packs a spicy punch, it drowns out the naturally mild flavor of the Kusshi. To make the apple kimchi, you can use homemade or good quality store-bought kimchi. Blend it to a near pulp and mix with diced apples. I suggest using apple kimchi for brinier oysters like Kachemak Bay or Island Creek.

For the Kusshi, we preferred the mouth-puckering and citrusy yuzu mignonette to the apple kimchi. For a half dozen oysters I use half a finely diced shallot, or about 1 tablespoon, about 1/2 teaspoon of yuzu juice and rice wine vinegar. The yuzu is tart and briny and brings out the naturally sweet and cucumber flavored flesh of the Kusshis.

I recommend making both the kimchi and mignonette to meet your taste needs. I like my apple kimchi with a lot of kimchi while others tend to prefer it sweeter. In that case, use less kimchi and more diced apple.

Apple Kimchi
1 apple, cut into a 1-inch dice
1/4 cup kimchi

Puree kimchi in a blender to a fine chop but not quite a puree. Mix with freshly cut apples. Serve right away or refrigerate for up to 4 hours.

Yield: About 1 cup apple kimchi

Yuzu Mignonette
1 tablespoon finely chopped shallot
1/4 cup rice wine vinegar
1/2 teaspoon yuzu, or to taste
Ground black pepper to taste
Salt to taste, optional

Combine ingredients and chill. Serve with oysters on the half shell.

Yield: About 1/4 cup or enough for half dozen dozen oysters

I habitually make cooking difficult for myself, especially birthday and holiday feasts. Special occasion meals usually involve multiple courses, and oftentimes an architectural diagram outlining ingredients, flavor profiles and plating schemes.

A few years ago I made a somewhat simple meat and potatoes themed dinner for my husband’s birthday. I struggled to select a pitch-perfect vegetable to accompany beef tenderloin with herb-infused butter and potatoes au gratin. He dislikes artichokes (crazy!), we’ve overdone crispy roast asparagus (for shame!), and we deemed broccoli too quotidian for his birthday meal.

We settled on this inspired and elegant braised carrot dish from a 2008 issue of Gourmet Magazine. It is so effortless I make it not only for special occasions but for everyday dinners.

The technique is almost elementary: cook leeks until soft, tender and subtly golden, their sweetness exemplified, their bitterness eviscerated. Add carrots to the leeks along with water and vinegar, simmering until the carrots soften and the liquid evaporates.

It is the perfect side to accompany crispy-skinned roast chicken, to back up a birthday roast or even with a simple salmon en papillote. I gravitate to this dish and it always fulfills my cravings. Vinegar adds a tangy, mouth-puckering kick to the sweet leeks and earthy vegetable. It hits every note.

If you need a last minute quick vegetable to spice up your Christmas or Hanukkah feast, look no further than this timeless, simple and above all, deeply flavorful side dish that might just outshine your protein.

Carrots and Leeks
Adapted from Gourmet Magazine

3 medium leeks (white and pale green parts only)
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 pound carrots, cut diagonally into 1 1/4-inch pieces
1 1/4cups water
1/2 cup red-wine vinegar

1. Halve leeks lengthwise, then cut crosswise into 1-inch pieces and wash

2. Sauté leeks in butter with 1 teaspoon salt and 1/2 teaspoon pepper in a 12-inch heavy skillet over medium-high heat until softened, 5 to 6 minutes.

3. Stir in carrots, water, and vinegar. Cook, covered, over medium-high heat until carrots are tender, 20 to 25 minutes.

4. Boil, uncovered, until liquid has evaporated, 3 to 5 minutes.

Yield: 4 servings.

Chai has been my most beloved hot drink since college. My best friend and I would routinely escape the chaos of our senior seminars, papers and job applications and seek ephemeral solace in the dusky, dimly-lit basement of the town’s local coffee shop. We’d spend hours discussing romance, friendship and careers over piping hot bowls of pumpkin-spiced chai served under fluffy, weightless clouds of alabaster milk foam.

For me, late fall is chai season. Not only does it kindle nostalgia for my days as a hopeful, nascent undergrad but because chai’s spicy warmth restores the body and soul as the season transitions from crisp and brisk to bleak and raw.

Though I consider myself a tea enthusiast I have never attempted to make chai at home. Over the years I’ve experimented with loose tea but have been apathetic when it comes to chai. Always the hunter, I opt for the indefatigable coffee house crawl, in search of the superlative cup, rather than brew homemade. Chai is simple enough to make and I consider myself a pretty decent cook. And I am most definitely adept at brewing a meritorious cup of tea.

When my cousin David recently suggested I try his much-tweaked, much-loved and much-perfected recipe for chai, I resolved to finally kick my store-bought habit.

Masala chai, an Indian word literally meaning spiced tea, is made by brewing black tea leaves, milk and a sweetener with a potpourri of spices. The spice mixture varies from region to region in India but often includes cinnamon, cloves, ginger, cardamom, star anise, fennel, and pepper. My cousin uses cinnamon, green cardamom pods, fresh ginger, cloves, white peppercorns and star anise.

The tea base for traditional Indian chai is usually a robust Indian black tea such as Assam or Darjeeling. David also swears by Maté or Rooibos but I stick with Assam for my brewing experiment.

Making chai is a spirited, magical process. Crushing the spices with mortar and pestle releases a fresh, piquant scent. Watching the tea leaves bloom and unfurl in the boiling liquid is a thing of beauty, relaxing and addictive.

Sweeteners range from white refined sugar to brown sugar to honey to coconut sugar. One stop shoppers can opt for condensed milk, both the dairy and the sweetener rolled into one. Personally I prefer my chai with frothy whole milk and unrefined sugar.

David’s recipe is an intricately aromatic tea with high notes of cardamom and undertones of tongue-tickling white pepper and cloves. While he adds milk directly to the pan at the tail end of the process, I upped the ante and added milk foam using food science writer Harold McGee’s foolproof technique of vigorously shaking milk in a mason jar until frothy, and microwaving until the foam sets.

Remember, this is not Starbucks’ chai, which I find cloyingly sweet and overly spiced. True chai is subtle and elegant, almost understated in its flavor.

Masala Chai Latte

7 cups water
1 5-inch cinnamon stick, broken into pieces
2-inch long piece of fresh ginger, peeled
12 green cardamom pods
5-6 cloves
6-10 white peppercorns
2-3 star anise
1 vanilla bean
1/2 cup loose tea leaves, such as Assam or Darjeeling
Milk to taste, or about 5 cups
Honey or sugar to taste

1. Bring water, cinnamon and ginger to boil in a large saucepan. Simmer until fragrant and until the cinnamon starts to turn the water a light brown.

2. Using a mortar and pestle, finely grind the cardamom pods, cloves, peppercorns and star anise. Add the spices and vanilla bean to the simmering water.

3. Simmer another 5 minutes, or until fragrant, and add the tea leaves. Remove pan from heat and let the tea steep for about 4 minutes.

4. Strain the tea through a very fine mesh strainer into another clean saucepan. Add milk and honey or sugar to taste.

5. Alternatively, pour milk into a mason jar with a lid. The milk should fill the jar about halfway at most to account for the foam. Shake the jar vigorously until the milk is frothy and doubled in size, about 30 seconds. Remove the lid and microwave for 30 seconds. Pour as much milk as you want into your cup of chai and then scoop the foam on top.

6. Pour leftover tea into mason jars and store for reheating. Chai flavor improves with time.

Yield: Without milk, makes about 6-7 cups spiced tea.