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Jenny, a BGSK reader through and through, poses with an open-faced spinach pie

The lemon tart was the only near disaster, the lemon curd not quite filling the tart shell. But Jill and I spread a layer of whipped cream over the top, and the resulting pie was brilliant, the cream cutting through the tartness of the citrus. My personal favorite from the evening happened to be the salad, and I’ve made it several times since then. There’s something simultaneously homey and celebratory about the confetti-ed dried fruit and nuts that sprinkle the lettuce, and the sweet vinaigrette that ties everything together.

From my kitchen, where I buy lots of beef with lots of (Jill’s) money, to yours,

Cara, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

Open-Faced Spinach Pie Bites
Makes 30, serves 15 as an appetizer

Ingredients
2 sheets puff pastry dough
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 small onion
2 small shallots
4 cloves garlic, in shards
pinch red pepper flakes, oregano, thyme
salt
3 oz fresh spinach
half bunch swiss chard
1 tablespoon Greek yogurt (2% or whole)
1 egg white
1/3 cup grated gruyere
2 tablespoons grated parm

Cut the dough into 2-inch rounds.

Saute the onion, shallot, garlic in olive oil over very low heat until soft. Add the spices and a large pinch of salt. Add the spinach and chard, stir to mix, then cover to wilt for a few minutes. Uncover, stir again, tasting the greens for salt and texture. Let cool completely.

When ready to make, preheat the oven to 400°F. Stir in the yogurt, egg white, and gruyere. Place the rounds on a baking sheet. Arrange about a tablespoon of spinach mixture in the center of each. Top with parm. Bake for about 10 minutes, turning on the broiler at the very end if the cheese on top hasn’t browned. Cool for a minute or two before serving.

Dried Fruit Salad with Cara-Cara Orange Vinaigrette
Serves 7-8

I was inspired to make this salad by the creative and beautiful cookbook called How To Roast a Lamb, written by Michael Psalkis who owns Anthos and Kefi, restaurants in New York. Though I didn’t follow his recipe in the end, what I found inspiring was the quantity of dried fruit he adds to his salad. In the past, I’d add one kind-raisins or apricots-but for this salad I put in the dried fruit contents of both Jill’s and my pantries. You, too, can add the dried fruits you own and/or prefer. If you can’t find Cara Cara Oranges (I have an affinity for them), substitute regular juice oranges.

Ingredients
For the salad:
2 heads fresh green or red lettuce, washed, dried, and torn into large bite-sized pieces
1/3 cup pecans, toasted
1/4 cup pine nuts, toasted
about 12 plump dried apricots, cut into slivers
1/4 cup raisins
1/3 cup dried cherries
1/4 cup pickled shallots (from 1 medium shallot)
For the Cara Cara Vinaigrette:
1 shallot, coarsely chopped
1 large clove garlic, coarsely chopped
2 teaspoons mustard
1/3 cup freshly squeezed juice from a Cara Cara Orange
1/3 cup red wine vinegar
1 teaspoon honey
1/2 cup olive oil
1/4 cup canola coil
salt and pepper

Layer the lettuce and the dried fruit in a large salad bowl, tossing to combine.

To make the dressing: put the shallot, garlic, and a pinch of salt in a mini food processor and process to turn into a paste. Add the mustard, vinegar, juice, and honey, and process until smooth. If you have an opening in the top, add the oils slowly though it. If not, add tablespoons of oil in between pulsing. Taste the dressing and add any more salt if needed. You can also add a bit more honey if you like.

Dress the salad, tossing with your hands to distribute the dressing evenly. Top with the pickled shallots and serve.

Savory Beef Stew

The beef stew was a variation on my new favorite recipe. I added some extra veggies, namely mushrooms and leeks, put in two anchovies with the tomato paste, and used red wine vinegar in addition to red wine. You’ll need about 4 lbs of stewing beef to feed 7 women, and I basically quardrupled the recipe I’ve linked to.

Lemon Tart with Cream
Makes 1 tart, serves 8

Adapted from Alice Medrich, Pure Dessert. I modified this recipe in two ways, one intentional, one not so. I added brown sugar to the crust to give it some extra umph because I think the slight caramel flavor works well with the lemon. As for the unintentional modification: when I went to fill the tart at Jill’s, I found the lemon filling didn’t spread all the way around. I topped it with the cream to repair the tart’s looks, and then it turned out we liked it better that way-it gave much needed sweetness to the puckery lemon curd.

Ingredients

For the crust:
8 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
2 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons light brown sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/8 teaspoons salt
1 cup all-purpose flour

For the filling and cream:
Grated zest of half a washed lemon
1/4 cup lemon juice
1/4 sugar
3 tablespoons butter
1 large egg
1 large egg yolk
3/4 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons confectioners sugar

Preheat the oven to 350°F.

Combine the crust ingredients and stir to distribute evenly. Press into a 9 1/2″ fluted tart pan. Make sure to distribute evenly, especially along the sides.

Bake for 20 minutes until firm and a deep golden brown. Set aside.

To make the filling, combine the lemon zest, juice, sugar, and butter in a small sturdy saucepan and bring to a simmer over low heat. Meanwhile, beat the egg and egg yolk in a small heatproof bowl. Carefully ladle a little of the hot mixture over the eggs, stirring constantly. Then scrape it all back into the saucepan and stir constantly until the curd has thickened.

Pour the curd into the crust then return the tart to the oven for about 5 minutes. Remove, cool to room temperature, then spread the cream evenly across. Serve small wedges.

Punch, BGSK Style
Makes 1 large bowl (or bucket)

Jason’s recipe called for some premium liquors, and I’m sure he would be horrified at our poor-gal’s excuse for what’s politically incorrectly called Jonestown Punch. The actual cocktail, which is served at The Violet Hour in Chicago, has many nuances. Ours may not have been as complex or refined with the budget liquors and bottled lemon juice, but our crowd didn’t seem to be any wiser.

Ingredients
10 cups Jim Beam (or other reasonably priced bourbon)
3 1/2 cups Fresh Lemon Juice (or bottled…let’s be real)
2 1/2 cups Zinger Syrup (recipe follows)
1 1/4 cup Apricot Brandy

2 tbsp Regan’s Orange Bitters (hard to locate…but it’s worth it!)

Garnish with sliced lemons (or oranges, Phoebe doesn’t do those though) and grated cinnamon.

The best way to serve a punch is to freeze a loaf of ice and place it in the punch bowl. Less surface area creates less dilution.

For the syrup:

Take one liter of room temp simple syrup (equal parts white granulated sugar and water) and soak 5 Red Ziinger Tea bags for 1-2 hours. If simple syrup is cold it needs to be 24 hours. The syrup needs to have good color and bold taste with out being tanic.

Coconut Cake
Makes 1 rich two-layer cake
For the Cake Layers:
Loosely adapted from The Sweeter Side of Amy’s Bread

Ingredients
3 1/3 cups flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup coconut milk
1/2 cup cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 1/2 sticks softened butter
2 cups sugar
4 large eggs

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Grease two cake pans and line the bottom with a circle you’ve cut out of parchment paper. (If, like me, you own only one pan, you’ll have to bake in two separate steps. Use a measuring cup to wind up with even layers.)

In one bowl, mix the flour, powder, soda, and salt until combined.

In another bowl, whisk together the coconut milk, cream, and vanilla.

Then, cream the butter and sugar until it’s light and fluffy. This takes about 3 minutes in an electric mixer, 5 in a handheld, and just about forever if you’re working by hand. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition.

On a lower speed, add 1/3 of the flour mixture to the batter. Then add half the milk mixture. Repeat with the flour, milk, and flour again. Between each, you should stir only to just combine. Don’t worry if the batter is thick-just don’t overmix.

Divide the cake batter between the two pans, or, if you’re working with one pan, divide it cup by cup between the pan and a second mixing bowl, making sure you ens up with even amounts. The pans should be about 2/3 cups full.

Bake for 40 minutes until the tops are golden and a toothpick inserted comes out clean.

Cool the cakes in the pan for 10 minutes, then carefully remove to a rack to cool completely.

For Icing and Serving:
12 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature
2 sticks butter, softened
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
3 cups powdered sugar, sifted
about 2 cups sweetened, shredded coconut

Combine the cream cheese, butter, vanilla, and sugar in a bowl. Mix to combine very well and keep mixing until the icing is creamy.

Arrange the first cake layer on a serving plate. Put a big scoop of icing in the middle, then use an offset spatula or knife to spread it evenly around. If the layers are at all uneven, this is your chance to use icing to level them out. Place the second layer, top side down, on top of the icing. Use the remaining icing to frost the top and sides, then, using your hand, press the shredded coconut into the icing all around the top and sides. Serve within a few hours; otherwise refrigerate. (Phoebe and I know, from sticking our forks into the leftovers at a lunch meeting, that this cake tastes amazing cold.)

 

The summer after my senior year of college, my mother’s graduation gift brought me to Morocco. She was returning to the country for the first time in 15 years—30 since she lived in Marrakech during her period of quarter-life adventures. Though she knew the country and customs better than the guidebooks, I was a little wary of the two weeks we’d be traveling together. For one, she planned the trip start to finish, which, for a (paradoxically) fly by-the-seat-of-your-pants control freak like myself, was difficult to cope with. During my four years away from the nest, I did my fair share of solo traveling, and it made me realize more that I’d rather experience a country by eating $1 dollar street meat than by starting off my days in a plush hotel dining room.

Luckily, my mother was more or less on the same page—though we began the trip in a gorgeous Riad in Fez (where I spent most of my time battling food poisoning), we stayed with her friend’s in Tangier and rented a small apartment in Essouira, where we attempted to make a Moroccan-spiced bouillabaisse with the local seafood. We took a cooking class, wandered through the souks, and though I was able to buy four poufs for my living room at half price (after an epic haggle with a deaf-mute vendor), my mother’s Moroccan Arabic, complete with expressions for “get away from me, you pig,�? was a vital asset to our tall blonde tag team.

More importantly, there was a lot of eating, and during these meals, a lot of stories.

Back in 1979, I learned, Morocco wasn’t as hospitable to women living or traveling alone. When my mother arrived, she acquired a Fatima (house-keeper), a young divorced woman who had been shunned by her family in their small village. As her feminist tale goes, my mother saved Naima from the provincial, repressive values of her mining town and brought her to the big city of Marrakech, an initial experience that was likened to walking through Times Square for the first time.

The two women became more than employer-employee; a special ceremony was performed to make them blood sisters (the details of which are a whole other story), so they looked out for one another. I’m not sure what this entailed for my mother, but I do know that for Naima this meant tracking down decent seafood to cook for her Fishatarian friend in a more or less landlocked city, lined with freshly slaughtered lamb and goat carcasses. Though her own frustration and cravings mounted (as mine occasionally do when I spend too much time in Cara’s veggie kitchen), Fatima was able to come up with innovative solutions in the small kitchen they shared, and with the help of nothing more than a hot plate and a dull knife, whipped up some of my mother’s favorites to this day: sardine kefta (meatballs), and fish chermoula tagine.

Though she looked no heavier in pictures, my mother claims that she was never better fed than the one year she spent in Marrakech. I can guess this was partially due to the large portions of these main dishes (easily feeding ten), and the lack of refrigerator in which to store the leftovers. But it also can be attributed to the robust spice combinations and flavors that made me plow through bread basket after bread basket, soaking up every last drop of rich sauce on my plate.

A few weeks back, my parents got a new dining room table and decided to start things off on the right foot by actually using it. The news was shocking enough to warrant my attendance. To feed their eight friends, my mother decided to reinvent Naima’s fish tagine. Though there was not a pescaterian amongst them, the rich tomato stew won over the crowd, leaving hardly any leftovers to store in the luxury of our modern refrigerator.

Though the evening’s stories mostly took place on this continent, and didn’t involve the details of how one becomes “blood sisters,�? when I recreate the memories of Morocco in my kitchen (with or without meat), I can’t help but sit on my pouf and tell the tales of our trip, the gift we experienced together.

From my kitchen, where you can experience a meatless Morocco, to yours,

Phoebe, THE QUARTER-LIFE COOK

1 lb carrots, peeled and finely grated on a microplane

1 lemon, juice only

4 tbsp sugar

1/4 tsp ground cinnamon

1 1/2 tbsp orange flower water

1 tbsp white vinegar

Salt

Mix all the ingredients together in a bowl, then leave to marinate for at least 45 minutes in the refrigerator.

Taste and adjust seasoning as desired, then serve either chilled or at room temperature.

My mother used our teacher Lahcen’s technique of grating the onions so they thicken the sauce. If you want to cut some additional corners with this recipe, use a prepared chermoula spice blend from the same place where I order preserved lemons: http://www.zamourispices.com/.

4 lb flaky white fish, such as cod, haddock, or Mahi Mahi

2 large Vidalia onion, grated

2 preserved lemons, finely chopped

1 28 oz can diced plum tomatoes with their juice

1 ½ cups fish stock or water

1 ½ cups dry white wine

2 cups mint leaves, finely chopped

1 cup green olives

For the marinade, “Chermoula:�?

5 garlic cloves

2 cups cilantro

4 tsp ground cumin

1/3 - 1/2 cup olive oil

2 lemons, juiced

1 tbsp salt

Pinch saffron threads (optional)

1 small red chile pepper, seeded and chopped (optional)

In a small food processor, combine all ingredients for the chermoula. Reserve ¼ cup of the mixture, and combine the rest with the fish fillets in a mixing bowl. Cover with plastic wrap and marinate in the refrigerator for 1 -2 hours.

Meanwhile, heat 3 or so tablespoons (enough to coat the bottom of the pot) in a large Dutch oven or casserole dish over a medium flame. Sauté the onion and carrots until softened. Add the reserved chermoula, preserved lemon, and tomatoes. Gently simmer for ten minutes uncovered, stirring occasionally. Add the stock, wine, and olives, and bring the mixture to a boil. Cover the tagine, reduce the heat to medium-low, and simmer for an additional 10-15 minutes.

When the fish has finished marinating, add it to the pot, and cook covered for 6-8 minutes, until the fish is cooked through. Stir in half the mint, and garnish with the remaining leaves.

Serve with couscous, haricot vert, and lots of crusty bread.