All Recipes

Where did this month go? It started out so turbulent, so unsure. The beginning of November existed only in liminal spaces and pockets of time. In short days that slipped into nighttime. And in a new era.

This month, I’ve taken some time to just cook for myself. Without the lingering thought of preparing for photos or chasing the light. Going into my first winter as a natural light food photographer, I’m noticing the changing light. The nuanced tones of blue and grey that seep in. The strongest light that shines through earlier in the day. I wish I could just sit with it for a while, observing the new patterns and subtleties each hour.

October goes by too quickly. It's the one month that feels fully immersed in autumn, without any feeling that the year is coming to a close, rather slowing its pace. Still colorful, full of bountiful apples, mushrooms, winter squash. It feels alive. Last weekend was the first that actually felt like autumn. Still-green leaves shivering in the wind, crisp air, the softest wisps of ashy clouds blanketing the sky, and warm auburn light of early sunsets.

Yet, the temperatures pop back into the 90s and we're back to eternal summer. Still, our big cat with his thick fur coat stopped hiding under the bushes for sanctuary from the sun. Maybe the length of his fur and the food we cook are the only signs of seasonal progression I need.

So long as it's cold enough for soup, I'm happy with October.

Happy Autumn!

Although it doesn't quite feel like it here, I am so eager to get started on autumn recipes. Some of my favorite ingredients are at their prime this time of year: an abundance of apples, pears, mushrooms, and nuts that pair so wonderfully with spices and long peaceful nights of cooking. At its heart, cooking is made for the cooler seasons. For the long chilly nights and cozy days. For the preservation of everything at its peak freshness. And for the enjoyment of slow cooking, when life begins to pace itself.

Sometimes I feel like the heat and the smokey air drains my energy, like I'm waiting for just a day of cold weather to clear my lungs and my mind. There's a certain peace I find in autumn. When there's still color in the leaves and the world comes a little more alive. There's no sameness, and every day brings a little bit of change to the atmosphere.

As California endures the heatwave, and fire season makes the beloved landscape particularly apocalyptic, I stand in limbo, trying to savor the last of summer while slowly making the transition into earthy autumnal tones. Though I love the bright colors and strong sunlight that these months have pushed me towards, rustic neutrals, ruddy browns, and smoky greens feel more comforting. I'm still finding my footing, tentatively moving my way through the world of styling and photography, grasping at new techniques wherever I can. Stylistically, I'm drawn towards rustic settings that feel less staged, more welcoming and atmospheric. Snapshots of everyday life, with the beauty of fresh ingredients and mundane settings emphasized.

Rambling, I know, but all this to say I'm still honing in on a style, one that is much more clearly expressed in cooler seasons. Still, some of the warmth and atmosphere shines through, and I think I've managed to tiptoe between the seasons.

A little over a month of summer left, and I'm already awaiting autumn. The seasons seem backward at home, as the camphor trees dropped their yellowing leaves in spring, and the worst of the heatwave always creeps in late September. A little flipped, yet this year it feels reaffirming of a sense of normalcy, of the immovability of time. And just as I did last August, I find myself anticipating cooler months, anticipating mellow weather and comforting meals.

In my head, all I can think of are autumnal recipes and photos. My creativity has jumped past me even as I try to savor the waning summer produce. Unfortunately, so many our plants in the garden have suffered - we are still waiting on the first cherry tomato. My purple striped eggplants never made it past a sprout, but I'm hopeful that there are enough cranberry beans to save for an autumn stew! Those mighty little bean plants have been the most bountiful of the new additions. Though I wasn't able to grow them myself, I was able to find purple and white striped eggplants and gorgeous heirlooms at the farmers market!

This dish was inspired by a recent farmers' market find: a bag of zucchini and stunning color-blocked summer squash. I was so mesmerized by the duo-tone veggies that I bought a bag without thinking of what I would make, knowing I wanted something to show off the beautiful colors. Sometimes the only inspiration you need is the subject itself.

Our garden is still a little way out; I suspect the combination of a shaded area in August heat causes the veggies stress. Yet, the blushing cherry tomatoes and first dry pole beans reassure me of our persistent little plants. I've been slowly harvesting the first cranberry beans, leaving them inside to collect until I have enough to store. Striped scarlet and off-white shells turned to light brown husks in a matter of weeks, but I snuck a peek at the beans inside. Like little quail eggs, the beans are mostly white, dappled with the most vibrant cranberry-colored speckles!

During seasons of abundant gardens and farmers' markets, preserving and canning are how I savor the flavors of the season. Stone fruit is around every corner, and our plum tree yielded the best harvest in years. Plums turned into cake and jam, and tomatoes soon to be enjoyed fresh while some squirreled away to be frozen and enjoyed in winter. And this month, I delved into the process of fermentation.

This sauerkraut recipe is woodsy and aromatic, with juniper berries and caraway seeds that taste softly of pine and anise-like licorice. Reminiscent of winter spices, yet mild and close enough to tradition that it can be served with dishes both sweet and savory. A little stronger and more flavorful than traditional salt-brined sauerkraut, I wanted my sauerkraut to be satisfying and aromatic.

When I was 3, my parents took me to Tuscany. I was little, curious, and refused to put shoes on in the snow. I remember cobblestone streets, tree-lined paths covered in crunchy auburn leaves, chasing pigeons, and bowls of pici. Most of my memories from that trip are scattered and misplaced but they are among my first. What I know for sure is that it was beautiful and exciting and I was always hungry after a day of walking - or being carried.

I tried many years ago to make pici, but it was a failed attempt and I did not push it any further. A few weeks ago, I decided I wanted to commit to recreating this pasta from my childhood. Of course, my memories are hazy, and I couldn’t exactly remember what it was like, but I entered in with the mindset that I would know when I got it right. 

When I started thinking about spring dishes back in February, I had a few things in mind. I wanted to focus more on seasonal produce and spontaneity in cooking. Finding the sweet spot between going in with no ideas and planning every last detail of a dish.

A small idea or just some inspiration can flourish into a way of cooking that is more natural and realistic in my life and in yours. Perhaps I would go to the market looking for artichokes and come back with asparagus because that's what is available. I wanted to keep seasonal ingredients at the forefront of my mind. Alongside this mindset, I had a rough outline. Paninis, fresh pasta, tomato confit, jam, pickles, and rhubarb, the last of which broke my local produce mindset just a smidge.

This small taste of tapas came from a browse through José Andrés's Tapas: A Taste of Spain in America, and craving for those little Spanish plates we only have at restaurants. Patatas Bravas and simple roasted onions with toasty bread to sop up the sauces, along with an aioli made the traditional way because I have the time now! Possibly the most gratifying part of this tapas-making process was seeing the aioli come to life. The fact that a few cloves of garlic, olive oil, lemon, salt, a healthy amount of elbow grease can transform into such a silky sauce was enough to spark that bit motivation.

On days when the world seems a bit more grim, it's curious how I find comfort in making bread. Just as I have always loved the artful process of making pasta, pouring my energy and soul into a hand-shaped form, sometimes as we nurture the food we make, it nurtures us just the same. From parents making a cake with their children to creatives finding peace in nature, we all need something to keep us grounded right now.

I hope you all are safe and healthy. I've been spending a lot of time in the garden, going out each morning to check on our newly planted seedlings and any signs of new sprouts. These unusually rainy days have made me want to stay in even more, but I can't help but slip on a coat and boots to see my plants soaking up all the rain. It's such a rarity here, which makes everything feel even more strange. But, I'm grateful for our garden and the little bit of life I get to nurture.

In celebration of the little seedlings and longer days ahead, I came up with this spring tartine. It features two types of spring produce: baby radishes and microgreens. When first making this tartine, I loved the combination of sweet, salty, peppery and fresh - subtle but bright. Chèvre is melted over sweet honey sunflower bread, toasted in butter for a salty-sweet base. A little bed of microgreens tossed in balsamic vinegar lays on top of the goat cheese, then layered with bright and crunchy radishes, garnished with salt.

In California, February is the in-between. Days just barely begin to lengthen, telling me we're almost out of winter. Seasonal produce slightly shifts, hinting at spring approaching. Arugula, artichokes, tender little greens like sprouts and watercress - all sorts of green veggies come to fruition. Our citrus trees are fully covered in lemons and limes, while we savor the dwindling pears of winter. And, as we plan our garden for March, the first of the plum blossoms begin to bloom: the first sign of spring. 

I first picked up a bag of beautifully colored pears, with a few days left to ripen, thinking I would plan out one last wintry dessert or preserve. Something along the lines of baked pears soaked in mulling spices, yet the season had passed me by and it felt out of place. Searching for inspiration, I looked up a list of in-season produce and felt excited by the prospect of a salad that merged the seasons.

Today I wanted to share with you another of my pantry essentials - homemade granola! Nutty, toasty, and lightly sweetened, my Honey Apricot Hazelnut Granola brings a bit of homemade comfort to your morning meal. It's a simple recipe that keeps on the shelf and wonderfully compliments these winter mornings. 

As seasons change and weather shifts, I find that my flavorings and methods begin to shift. Autumn calls for pumpkin seeds, pecans, and cinnamon, while summer suggests lighter flavors like coconut and sunflower seeds. This particular iteration of homemade granola embraces roasted hazelnuts and dried apricot, with the soft sweetness of honey. A little less heavy than early winter flavors, yet still full of coziness and warmth. 

Creamy Mushroom Linguini - an ode to the farmers' market, embodying seasonal markets and winter comfort. These baby shiitakes sparked memories of simple mushroom pasta, made for quiet nights and farm-to-table meals.

I left the littlest mushrooms whole and cut the rest in half so they would be bite-sized and blend in with a twirl of linguine. The mushrooms soak up flavors of garlic and shallot, flavoring the cream wonderfully. I went for the old-style pasta water thickener, using the starchy water to create a richer sauce.

This month, I decided that I would embrace the freedom of the month, letting winter and seasonal produce guide my cooking. One late night, I pulled up a list of in-season fruits and veggies. I scrawled a handful of ideas and set them aside to linger in my mind. Then, I set off for the farmers' market. 

Market days are slower this time of year, yet the produce is vibrant and unique to the season. Radishes, cauliflower, and carrots in shades of yellow, purple and white, baskets of shiitake and wood ear mushrooms, and blood oranges at their peak, as well as dark leafy greens, were among the most common.

I celebrated New Year's Eve by making this Blood Orange Ricotta and Olive Oil Bundt Cake, decorated with a single sparkler to ring in the new year. I based it on one of my favorite loaves - Orange Ricotta Cake from Giada De Laurentiis - made instead with blood oranges and olive oil. I'm thankful for the blood oranges I spotted in the store for the bit of beauty and vibrant color they add to this cake. Olive oil and ricotta make this cake extra moist and lighter than the usual bundt. The blood orange juice makes for a pretty pink glaze or syrup top of the crisp, caramel-colored cake.

Otherwise known as the soup my grandma makes on Christmas day.

Happy Christmas Eve! I hope you all are having a relaxing and peaceful holiday. Today I wanted to share one of our traditional Christmas day dishes. A comforting soup made with mini meatballs and Swiss chard, making a beautiful broth as the greens cook. Usually served with pieces of toast, alongside pasta with sausages and tomato sauce as well as salad with tomato, avocado, and balsamic vinegar. It’s been our Christmas supper stretching as far back as my memory goes, and serves as yummy leftovers for the rest of the year.

So, I'm running behind this holiday season. Frankly, my whole family is. Well, maybe not my dad - he's a speed shopper. I have a feeling my grandma and I are on track to repeat last year's mad dash for Christmas presents. The late Thanksgiving threw me off! We still have leftover cranberry sauce in the middle of December! Regardless, the week before Christmas is cookie time in this house, and that holiday tradition is well on its way.

As a sneak peek at my plans for 2020, I'm sharing the first in a new branch of recipes, a series I'm calling "pantry". Pantry is a timeless notion of cooking and food prep, encompassing everything from pasta sauce and veggie stock to pickles and jam - those homemade household staples we often overlook in favor of store-bought alternatives. They can be the savior of a half-empty fridge and an uninspired evening. Once the farmers' markets begin to flourish in spring, I assure you we'll be seeing lots of preserves in our kitchen. For now, I'll let winter be winter and share a soothing sweetener for sore throats and cozy evenings alike.

Happy December everyone! Just popping in to wish you all a very happy start of the month and share with you a quick and tasty lunch recipe. Maybe you're are out of leftovers and searching for something easy and satisfying. Or just looking for a yummy meal to quell your winter cravings. A little melty cheese, sweet pear, and crunchy bread should do the trick!

Less than a week until Thanksgiving! This time next Thursday I'll be cocooning on the couch, watching A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving with my first plate of leftovers. I have a few recipes for you all before the big day, starting with the very first dish I took over from my mom: Cranberry Sauce. It's sweet and tangy, made with orange zest and aromatic fall spices. A comforting reminder that the holidays have arrived.

Slow-cooked dishes are some of my most treasured meals. Large pots of beans or stews, tended to over a few relaxed hours, melding rich flavors into comforting meals. Perhaps on the lengthier side of cook times, yet one of the most stress-free dishes to cook, requiring little active attention. This particular dish features Borlotti cranberry beans and small yellow heirloom beans, flavored with warm spices and hot Italian sausage. I topped it off with a fresh pistou, inspired by hearty Provencal soups finished with a drizzle of green.

Today's recipe marks the first chocolate recipe on the blog, along with my first brand collaboration with none other than Nestle Tollhouse! They were kind enough to send me some of their Artisan Collection Semisweet Morsels to create something scrumptious. Just the first of a few chocolatey recipes in the coming months! Okay, on with the post.

As I began brainstorming ideas for this chocolate recipe, I knew I wanted something besides a chocolate chip cookie. Something to really go all out and have the chocolate be at the forefront of the dessert. With semisweet chocolate, you get a super decadent, rich chocolate taste without a lot of bitterness. The type of chocolate you'd want in a cake, soufflé or pudding - where it's all about the chocolate.

To celebrate the season, I’m sharing my recipe for homemade Pumpkin Ravioli. A savory take on pumpkin, paired with cheese, a hint of nutmeg, and a rich brown butter sage sauce. Nutty, earthy, just the right amount of pumpkin, enveloped in pasta that can’t get any more fresh.

Chicken and pastina in broth steeped with fresh herbs, lemon, and cheese rinds for the bread to soak up. A staple for cold season, the type of meal that my mom made for me and her mom made for her.

The simplicity and improvised nature of crumbles give them their kind of homemade charm. Hard to mess up, usually thrown together, and done by hand. Serve warm with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and enjoy your cozy rustic dessert ♡

Alright everyone, turn down the lights, put on one of your favorite spooky podcasts, and prepare for one of my favorite October dishes: Baked Ricotta + Basil Stuffed Shells! Now, I won’t say that there is anything particularly fancy or unique about this dish. It is one of those no frills, delicious household staples that is a joy to make. The kind of dish that I can make in my sleep, or while enjoying a glowing October evening. Ooey gooey cheese on top of giant pasta shells, stuffed with a creamy ricotta, parmesan and fresh basil filling, all blanketed in rich tomato and pancetta sauce. I hope you love this dish as much as I do; it truly is a treat for me to make!