The Author has noted that I am on a cucina povera kick. Possibly he is noticing more about how I am cooking because he is in the middle of writing a novel about Greece in WWII, which includes details of the famine, but to be honest, I don’t think I’m ever not on a cucina povera kick. I love the simplicity of ingredients and the cleverness necessary to make a good dish out of them. It’s kind of like piecing together a puzzle, but with the difference that you can eat the results.
Aside from that, I have what you might call a mental rolodex of recipes (not all of them thrifty!) that I would like to create or recreate. This is built on dishes I have eaten and loved, recipes I’ve seen and thought looked enticing, or even ingredients that I like and want to use in new ways. Like a real rolodex, the one in my head turns around and around and around, and sometimes, in the never-ending cycle of all these possible recipes, I get distracted from the original intent and get excited by other things – like these cookies. Continue reading →
To paraphrase Shakespeare, some cookies are made great, and some cookies have greatness thrust upon them. I think that biscotti are the latter.
With very few ingredients (what, no butter?), biscotti seem like cookies born of deprivation. A biscotto* is a cookie that is hard, dry, and looks very much like toast. Truly, there is not much to recommend it. But have it with a cup of tea or coffee, or even a glass of red wine, or vin santo (my favourite), and you have achieved cookie perfection. Continue reading →
Lately it seems that dietary guidelines are switching back to advice that our grandparents would recognise: make food with ingredients you understand, and then eat it. And when you’re full, stop eating.
Of course this makes me extremely happy. I’ve lived through enough restrictive dietary trends to know that they don’t make me anything but miserable. Continue reading →