Archive for July, 2010


I’m learning.

I’m learning how to “play” with food, how to not rely on every single step being drawn out for me in recipe format.  I’m learning to grab the nearly over-ripe fruit or the almost wilty vegetables and make something delicious with them.  It’s a slow process.  A process I love.

Last night I wandered past the fruit basket that sits on my counter and noticed the pineapple leaves were starting to brown.  I pulled it out of the basket and began to slice it into cubes, wondering all the while if there wasn’t something more than “just” pineapple to be done with it.  I could have tossed some in a smoothie, but quite frankly didn’t feel like cleaning the blender.  I remembered the wonder of the first time I tasted grilled pineapple.  The way the heat releases the sweet juices is phenomenal.  Problem is, I don’t own a grill.

I grabbed my favorite “go to” book when I am having this brain storming session over a particular item of food.  Skimming the columns of food that pairs well with pineapple vanilla struck me. I have vanilla.  I threw the cubed pineapple, a dash of vanilla, and the lightest drizzle of honey together in a small baking dish.  The toaster oven was still warm from my provolone and ham sandwich dinner so I turned the temp to 350 and baked the pineapple for twenty minutes or so.   I love the citrusy smell pineapple has when it is warm.  I waited until that aroma filled my home and then I pulled the dish out and dolloped on a few spoon tip fulls of marscapone and let it melt a tad before consuming.  Happily.

Need to know how to cut-up a pineapple?  Look here –


Scrambled Eggs

This past weekend I wandered into sis’s kitchen with her and together we began cooking breakfast.  We wanted something simple, scrambled eggs seem to fit the bill nicely.  I remembered the mushrooms leftover after last nights salad and pilfered those out of the crisper drawer. We jabbered and sipped coffee as I sauteed those mushrooms in a small pat of butter, butter pulled from a fresh stick since her house it not totally gluten free.  She cracked the eggs as I 05tossed the mushrooms around waiting for them to get soft, dark brown and deep gray, with just a hint of crispy left when you bite them.  Food should never be soggy, at least not if I am going to eat it.  I threw the eggs mixed with a touch of milk in with the mushroom as she started doing the dishes.

Soon we were all back at the table again, talking and looking at the Sunday morning ads.  The room went still, and suddenly no one was talking or rustling pages.  I looked up at sis, waiting for her to tell me what had happened.  I smiled and laughed when she mumbled “This is REALLY good” with food still in her mouth.
Though I would have loved a savory frittata filled with colorful vegetables and dressed with fresh herbs to feed the ones I love, nothing makes me happier than a table stunned to silence by simple goodness.