Today was a long, trying day. Family health issues and work combined together for a tired evening. Fortunately, I have a friend staying with me, and even more fortunately, she decided that tonight was the night she would cook dinner. So my beautiful friend and my handsome Frenchman headed off to procure some meat and veggies to roast for dinner.
Since I had the pleasure of eating and not cooking, I can’t tell you all the steps or all the ingredients. But I can share with you these beautiful pictures of my delicious dinner, cooked for me and not by me!
Roasted zucchini, potatoes, and carrots appear to have been caramelized perfectly with a lovely garlic and chive butter. Roasted on my favorite Nordic Ware pans, the parchment paper keeps everything clean and the tinfoil added a nice crisp to the vegetables.
Perfectly caramelized onions were sweetened with baby mangoes. A perfectly seasoned set of thinly sliced beef steak was seared to perfection.
All deliciously arranged on my beautiful plates, at my beautiful dining table, with my beautiful friends, and served with a toast of well wishes. What a lovely way to wind out another manic Monday.
Next came a giant pile of thinly sliced leeks. One recipe I found calls for 12 small leeks; I decided that three giant ones were roughly equivalent. The other primary traditional seasoning is Bayleaf, and of course, pepper.
It really is pretty much that simple:
I will garnish with some dried fruit, probably apricots and cherries. I don’t believe I have prunes this week. And, owing to a habit of my great aunt Margaret’s, I adore a dollop of sour cream on my chicken soup. All in, including pulling everything out, chopping everything up, washing the cutting board and knife and putting everything away, and hitting start on the Instant Pot, this was about 20 minutes of prep time.
After an over-the-top spread of cheeses and smoked fish and fruit and wine at home, we headed out.
Pera is definitely a place to come with a party of people who like to share. All of the options are delicious, and generous portions allow several people to each have a bite. The restaurant itself is beautiful: cozy while still feeling open, traditional art, beautiful hand-chiseled pewter glassware. The owners are charming, and sweet. Our waiter is usually one of the owners, Matin. He always remembers me and is very sweet. It is one of the hallmarks of a great local business when they know their regulars and go out of their way to make everybody feel special.
Today, I invited a big group of friends to come see my newest client’s space at the Palace of Fine Arts. I’m working with a neat organization at an incredible location, and thought it would be an unexpected and fun place for a social get together.
Step six: Now, fetch your herb scissors and gathering basket and go out to the garden. Gather sage, rosemary and oregano – at least you think it’s oregano. It might be basil, but both plants are so woody and leggy after the winter it’s almost hard to tell. Cut a stalk/branch of both. Head back to the kitchen, and bring along the gardening gloves. Realize it would be easy to change the mood by turning on some music – find a nice indie folk rock mix on Pandora, but don’t turn it up too loudly because you don’t want to wake your partner. Remember you meant to get out your apron.
Step nine: Answer your barely-awake sweetie, who is gawking at the mountain of vegetables and the vacuum cleaner next to the oven, by telling him, “No, we are not having a large salad for breakfast.” Realize you can’t find your parchment paper, and ask said sweetie if he’d go find it downstairs. Kisses when he comes back, and then line your two big baking sheets with parchment. Flip your bowl of prepped potatoes onto one of the parchment lined sheets, and massage the garlic- and onion-infused oil into all the edges of your potatoes, spreading evenly into the corners of the pan. Lay a few sprigs of freshly washed, freshly harvested rosemary over the whole mess and stick it right into your nicely cleaned re-heating oven.
Step eleven: Make sure your parchment is plenty big, with tall sides and nicely creased edges. Spread evenly the whole mess of veg into the corners of the pan. Turn off the Kitchen Aide, which has meanwhile perfectly beaten the eggs into a nice airy whip with no yogurt lumps, and pour the egg/herb mix all over the veg. Tip the pan to evenly distribute the eggs. Remember you didn’t add the cheese. Find the shredded mozzarella in the fridge, and scatter a handful or three across the pan; massage the cheese into the eggs and veg as though it had been there all along. Slide it into the oven and close the door. Set the adorable timer on the little retro wall clock you bought yourself for your birthday to about half an hour, as you note it’s now about 9:30am. Go shower.
Step twelve: Admire your beautifully browning potatoes and fritatta in the oven. Remove both pans from the oven to begin to cool on the counter. Pull out two more lengths of parchment and some nice clean dish towels. Putter around, getting dressed and ready to leave. When you’re just about ready to load the car, lay a fresh sheet of parchment over the fritatta, and then layer a nice clean dishtowel, folded in half. Place the second pan, with the potatoes on top of the fritatta pan, and then add a parchment sheet and another clean towel. This way, they’ll stay warm and stack nicely in the trunk. Find your car keys, which are not where they belong. Remember the champagne. Also remember you promised to bring a friend’s left-behind umbrella and congratulate yourself on remembering something. Leave the house right on time a few minutes after 10am, with your sweetheart, a lovely pan of perfectly baked fritatta and some golden-roasted potatoes that smell divine.
So about three weeks ago, I started my 
I have a beautiful large wide shallow bowl from the 1930s that is perfect for this next step: Spray whatever large container you’re going to use for this raising with oil. I use my Misto and some nice olive oil for this, but if you have cooking spray that will work or you can smear it with butter by hand. Lay your dough ball in the bowl, and cover it; A great tip I got was to spray a piece of plastic wrap with oil and cover the bowl with that first. I dampened the dishtowel down with water and laid it over the top, before tucking it back in the warm oven. Allow your dough to rise in a covered bowl until it’s relaxed, smoothed out, and larger. 
Make two fairly deep diagonal slashes in each; a serrated bread knife, wielded firmly, works well here. This part was fun – it really works, and it’s super soft. A serrated blade will be better because it will keep you from using too much pressure and flattening your now-puffy loaves.
Now, it’s time to bake! Slip the loaves in the oven for 25 to 30 minutes, until they are a very deep golden brown. I will add: Getting the humidity right is a key part of this step, and to ensure I was getting some extra moisture in my oven, I stuck a casserole pan filled with water on the lower shelf like a steam tray. This also helps the bread to form a nice crust. I carefully set my alarm, and by the time 25 minutes had passed my loaves were a little too well-done. Another time, I’ll set a shorter alarm to check them sooner – but they’re sill good. Be sure to remove the loaves from the pan and allow them to cool on a rack. Before mine were cooled, I buttered them to crisp up the crust, which also gave them a nice shine.
So, all in a successful first try! I’m looking forward to next time – and to continuing to tend my little starter in it’s new home in my fridge! Daddy found me this antique crock – it’s an old butter churn, and while do have the (rare) wooden tamper for making butter, I plugged the hole with a cork that now doubles as a nice lid handle. Should do me well in my fridge, until next bake!
