One of the things I like most about my blog title is that I’ve kept it open to all endeavors in which I occasionally dabble in obsessively, not only knitting. Of course, the subject of the majority of the entries will remain firmly in the realm of knits and purls; after all I do have an ever increasing stash that needs working through. But I hope to more frequently write up a little about what goes on in my kitchen as I manage to spend quite a bit of my day there. Often I find myself wishing there was even more time and energy available to cook up another dreamy recipe or two… and an instant-extend-a-nap button.
This summer I’m spending some time learning how bake bread, something I’ve always had a fascination with that has only deepened the longer we spend time here in this city with it dearth of good and/or readily available bread. I have now almost conquered ciabatta–still have a few issues every now and then–and I’ve found a grilled flatbread recipe which brings me great joy, as well as yummy dinners. So far we’ve used it to dip into a lovely herbed oil, topped it with sauteed zuchinni with lots of garlic and plenty of lemon peel, or covered it with red ripe heirloom tomatoes my dad brought up from the South.
But my favorite so far was last night’s dinner when I took some very bland, cardboard-y tomatoes, de-seeded the chopped them up and threw it all in a pan with some beautiful olive oil, a clove or two of local garlic, salt, pepper, and a whole mess of saffron letting it cook nice and slow until the tomatoes found the sweetness they had buried deep inside. After I took the bread of the grill, I slathered some labne–a drained yogurt–stirred in a few drops of sherry vinegar into the tomatoes then dropped it by the spoonful onto the bread.
It was a rather yummy way to put the day to rest. The herbal sun tea was a perfect little drink to go along with it.
I cooked the tomatoes a little too unkindly in the first few minutes, so they fell apart into a mess, but if you have more patience and take your time with low temperatures, the tomatoes will keep their shape rather well.
But as soon as those local ripe tomatoes start rolling in, I’ll kiss my pan, put it back in the cabinet, and never give it a second thought until September.
Unless, of course, there’s bacon.