Three Things

Weeknight dinner ideas, recipe testing lessons, and how to be an illuminator

Why does my kitchen view remind me of In The Night Kitchen?

Greetings eaters and readers! I finished The Bee Sting in bed last night, so those of you who have already read it can probably guess that I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep. GOOD LORD, that ending. The novel, an absolute tour de force, follows four members of an Irish family battling the financial crisis of 2008 (and, more importantly, their own demons) with chapters told in alternating perspectives from each. I had never read anything by Paul Murray before, and now I plan to go deep down the rabbit hole. (Has anyone read Skippy Dies?) In other news, your listen of the week: Larry David is on The Bill Simmons Podcast talking about the last season of Curb and the Jets and Seinfeld and golf and so much more. I can listen to Larry David talk forever. Finally, this week’s bonus post is a Monday-to-Friday dinner plan, complete with shopping list, so if you don’t want to miss it, you can upgrade your subscription here. And now, sound the trumpets! Your weekly Three Things…

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1. A Few Weeknight Dinners (and a new salad I’m crazy about)

File under “Everyone Should Have My Problems,” but it’s always been hard for me to find a salad I’m excited about in the dead of winter. I mean, if I have the time and energy, I know I can make something worthy of an Emily Nunn newsletter, but as we all know, time and energy are two things most of us are decidedly lacking on a weeknight. Lately, though, I’ve struck upon this salad above: A greens mix I pick up at the farmer’s market (red leaf, chicory, endive), plus sliced oranges (if I don’t eat at least two Cara Caras a day this time of year, am I even alive?), some shaved fennel, and a dusting of crushed pistachios. One of my daughter’s friends from college came for dinner last week, and I served that salad alongside Harissa Roast Chicken — it was just the ticket for a kid craving a home-cooked meal. Later in the week, I had the salad with Butter-Fried Salmon, and I can also see it accompanying my Crispy-Smoky Tofu Sandwich (page 110 The Weekday Vegetarians) or a Pan-Fried Pizza. Here’s the how-to:

Greens with Fennel, Orange, and Pistachios

Vinaigrette
1/2 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1/4 cup white wine (or champagne) vinegar
1 tablespoon freshly squeezed juice from whatever orange you are using in the salad
1/3 cup olive oil
kosher salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

Salad
A mix of greens (such as butter/bibb lettuce, chicory, endive)
1 mini cucumber, sliced or shaved into ribbons (optional)
1 orange (cara cara or navel) sliced as shown
1/2 cup shaved fennel (or to taste)
2-3 tablespoons minced scallions or red onions
crushed pistachios (bonus for the spicy ones)
citrus vinaigrette (above)

Whisk or shake all the vinaigrette ingredients in a small bowl or jam jar. Place all the salad ingredients in a salad bowl and toss gently with the dressing.

Also: my love affair with the crowd-pleasing, quick-cooking vegetarian Pasta Con Ceci shows no sign of cooling off. That’s on the menu tonight.

2. Notes from the Field

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been testing and re-testing a bunch of recipes in my next book to make sure they are A-plus perfect for you (you’re welcome), and I’ve realized something about myself: I never give my food enough room when I’m cooking and prepping it. Meaning: I toss things in smaller bowls when they should be in larger bowls, I crowd the pan when I’m browning tofu, I shove as many vegetables on the baking sheet as possible when roasting. I think I do this because after all those years cooking for young kids on the clock, I’ve somehow convinced myself it’s more efficient — Easier to wash a smaller bowl, takes too long to brown or roast separate batches, etc. But in fact, this way of cooking makes more work (try tossing six cups of a slaw in a medium mixing bowl without getting it all over the counter), compromises the quality of your food, and doesn’t necessarily save time. So, lesson 1: Give yourself some space.

Lesson 2: When I worked at Real Simple in the early 2000s, someone wrote about coating a tablespoon with a tiny bit of neutral oil (using a finger) before measuring sticky things like honey, syrup, or molasses, so all slides out in one clump instead of an annoying stream of unmeasurable gooey-ness. I remember thinking "That's so random. How often does that come up?" Well it turns out a lot. Now that you know the hack, you’ll see.

3. Be an Illuminator

I’m reading How to Know a Person: The Art of Seeing Others Deeply and Being Deeply Seen, by longtime New York Times columnist David Brooks. The book is about his journey to become more emotionally attuned, to train himself to become a more fully empathic citizen of the world, to become what he calls “an Illuminator.” Illuminators, in his words, “have a persistent curiosity about other people. They have been trained or have trained themselves in the craft of understanding others. They know what to look for and how to ask the right questions at the right time. They shine the brightness of their care on people and make them feel bigger, deeper, respected, lit up.” I’ve been thinking about Illuminators a lot this week because two of my dearest college friends visited me recently — to pay their respects to my mom but also to be with me as I grieve my father — and I couldn’t help but notice their power of illumination. They hadn’t been to my new home and wanted to know everything, opening up all the kitchen drawers, studying every family photo on the gallery wall, asking eight million questions about New York (Where is Brooklyn? Can we track down the famous croissant cereal? Tell me everything you know about the water tower outside your bedroom window!), oohing and ahhing over the mushroom soup that Andy made them on Saturday night, sitting at the breakfast bar while I shared some wrenching details about my father’s last moments. A lot of that is of course, just being a good friend, but when they left, I looked at my life, my apartment, my family, even my filthy local subway station I taught them how to navigate expertly, and felt a profound sense of gratitude for everything I have. As I mourn my father, I’m learning that there is no such thing as a condolence gesture that is too small — literally a one-sentence text or someone saying in passing “I’m sorry about your Dad” nearly brings me to tears — but their visit was as generous and illuminating a gift to me as I could conceive. I’ll leave you with this delightful story from the David Brooks book, which is a little bit of a nonsequitur, but addresses how good it feels to be around these kinds of people.

Perhaps you know the story that is sometimes told of Jennie Jerome, who later became Winston Churchill’s mother. It’s said that when she was young, she dined with the British statesman William Gladstone and left thinking he was the cleverest person in England. Later she dined with Gladstone’s great rival, Benjamin Disraeli, and left thinking she was the cleverest person in England. It’s nice to be like Gladstone, but it’s better to be like Disraeli.

I’m channeling Disraeli this week.

P.S. Somewhat relatedly, my friends Ron and Jodi sent me an email last month with the note: “Everyone deserves chocolate in their inbox-- but especially you, especially now.” It was a gift card with a link to these gorgeous Wildwood Chocolates — part of the gift was me choosing the chocolates I wanted..and not gonna lie, I chose well. (I’m such a sucker for salty brittle.) Keep that one tucked away for Valentine’s Day.

Have a great week,
Jenny

Book owners: Have you made the yogurt flatbread yet? Fresh warm bread in 45 minutes that elevates everything on that dinner plate — especially the spiced chickpea-tomato-spinach stew.