Happy Thanksgiving and Hanukkah week, everybody!

Here on the Woodside, we're celebrating with a one-day work week, the traditional parade-family-meal triumvirate on Thanksgiving Day, and putting up the Christmas tree on Friday—which also happens to be my birthday, but it's a boring one this year, so I'm going to celebrate by bringing out the twinkly lights because they're my favorite.

In typical fashion around these parts, I volunteered to be responsible for some bits and pieces where the Thanksgiving meal is concerned—because being in the kitchen is also my favorite—and I have done zero planning. I went to the grocery store yesterday and got a pretty good preview of the punishment I'll have to endure for my procrastination.

Partly I wait until the last minute to plan because I am a notorious second-guesser, so I'm much better off making impulse decisions where dishes are concerned. But almost without fail, what ends up happening is that I return to a recipe I've made many times before. Especially when feeding a crowd, I have to agree with Ina Garten's mantra that it's much less stressful to stick to something you already know works. That way you have calm confidence, and the people you're feeding have great food.

This dish is one of those standbys for me, something I've made and modified so many times I don't even remember where I originally discovered it. It demonstrates my favorite formula for comfort food: savory heat, hearty greens, salty cheese, and—naturally—pasta.

It's a simple and easy weeknight meal, which is another reason it's become a standby, but I'm putting it here because it would also make a great way to reuse those Thanksgiving leftovers: Just stir in chopped leftover turkey in place of the sausage, and whatever Brussels sprouts you have remaining from your holiday table. After that it's just a matter of boiling the pasta and stirring through that creamy goat cheese.

After lots of trial and error with this dish, I've discovered that the easiest way to approach the Brussels sprouts and sausage is to roast them in the oven together. (It also helps the sprouts take on some of that lovely, spicy sausage flavor.) Because the little cabbage heads can sometimes be unpredictable in terms of how long they need to roast, slice your sausage a little bit thicker than you see here—you want it to come out juicy and substantial with just a little crispiness around the edges; you don't want jerky.

When it comes to goat cheese, I think the more coarsely ground black pepper, the better. In that same vein, taste often as you're seasoning—some goat cheese and sausage varieties contain more salt than others, so you don't want to overdo it.

I added a few sage leaves to the milk early on in the process, but then strained it out—that gave things a subtle woodsy flavor and aroma without the punch in the taste buds I sometimes think sage can be. Aggressive little herb.

I hope you try this dish and return to it as often as I have over the years. And I hope you have as many things to be thankful for as I do. And if you're celebrating Thanksgiving at your house tomorrow, I hope you're a lot more prepared than I am.

Enjoy!


Sausage–Brussels Sprouts Penne with Creamy Goat Cheese Sauce

1 pound Brussels sprouts, trimmed

Olive oil

Salt

Freshly ground black pepper

Dried crushed red pepper (optional)

2 links andouille sausage, sliced

2 cups whole milk

½ white onion, very finely chopped

4 garlic cloves, minced

6 sage leaves

2 tablespoons butter

2 tablespoons flour

6 ounces goat cheese

8 ounces dried whole wheat penne

1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil.

2. Place Brussels sprouts on prepared baking sheet; drizzle lightly with olive oil, and sprinkle evenly with salt, black pepper, and red pepper, if desired. Add sausage; roast 20 to 25 minutes or until sprouts are tender and sausage is golden brown.

3. Meanwhile, stir together milk, onion, garlic, and sage leaves in a medium saucepan over medium-low heat until just barely simmering. (Do not boil.) Cook, moderating temperature if necessary, 15 minutes. Drain mixture through a fine, wire-mesh sieve, discarding solids.

4. Melt butter in a skillet over medium heat; whisk in flour and cook 1 minute. Slowly whisk in hot milk, and cook until mixture thickens slightly. Reduce heat to low, and whisk in goat cheese until smooth. Season to taste with salt and black pepper, and keep warm.

5. Cook pasta in boiling salted water according to package directions. Stir together hot pasta, roasted Brussels sprouts and sausage, and goat cheese sauce. Top with additional black pepper, if desired. Makes 4 servings.

 

Look, Ma! Veggies!

See way there in the back, where the chicken is all snuggled up under the orzo blanket? Yes, that's leftover makeover right there. But the chicken is really just an understudy in this case—the orzo is the star.

(Note to self: Begin manufacture of orzo blankets ASAP.)

I decided to cook the orzo risotto style, as opposed to in the traditional manner, because I hoped it would help the results be starchier and creamier—I wanted this to be a cheesy orzo but I didn't want to make a béchamel. (The only dairy in my refrigerator was buttermilk, and that seemed like a gamble.)

Spoiler alert: It works! I used the broth I had in the cabinet, which happened to be vegetable broth. Which for no particularly reason I'm going to disclose that I think vegetable broth tastes just dandy but smells really strange. I'll just leave that little fact here for you even though it's of no use to anyone at all.

I could have roasted the broccoli to give it a little oomph in the flavor department, but I rather liked the way this all came together as a one-pot wonder, and letting it cook slowly in the orzo meant that it kept its bright green color and still turned out tender but toothsome.

I think the red onion is a nice pop of color here, but any sort of onion will work just fine; it was just what I had on hand. I added dried crushed red pepper, but for kids or people who prefer a sort of unadulterated mac and cheese, you can leave it out altogether.

When I posted a shot of this on Instagram last night, the response was swift—I think orzo is just one of those universally beloved things. Who could believe it all came together in less than 20 minutes?

Twenty-two minutes if you stop to open a bottle of wine and pour yourself a glass or three. Which I recommend.

Enjoy!


Cheesy Broccoli and Orzo "Risotto"

6 cups vegetable broth or chicken broth
2 tablespoons olive oil
½ large red onion, chopped
4 garlic cloves, minced
4 cups broccoli florets
¼ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Dried crushed red pepper (optional)
1½ cups dried orzo
4 ounces shredded Cheddar cheese
¼ cup heavy cream

1. Bring broth to a simmer over medium heat; keep warm over low heat.

2. Heat olive oil in a large, deep skillet over medium heat; add onions and cook, stirring, until onions are translucent. Stir in garlic; cook 1 minute. Stir in broccoli, and sprinkle with salt, black pepper, and red pepper, if desired. Cook 1 minute.

3. Stir orzo into broccoli, and cook 1 to 2 minutes or until lightly toasted. Ladle about ½ cup broth into pan; cook, stirring constantly, until liquid is absorbed. Repeat with remaining broth, and cook 8 to 10 minutes, adding broth ½ cup at a time as needed until orzo is al dente and broccoli is tender.

4. Reduce heat to low, and stir in cheese and cream. Makes 4 servings.

 

A couple of weeks ago I cleaned out the condiments in my refrigerator door. Well that's not entirely true; I weeded out just the salad dressings because I am only one woman and I certainly do not have the time to wade through every sticky bottle of mustard, curry paste, fish sauce, mayonnaise, soy sauce, and heaven only knows what else in a single evening.

I should note that of the eight bottles of salad dressing in my refrigerator, only one passed the expiration date test. One that ended up in the bin had not even been opened.

Shame. I feel shame.

The good news is that now I can just indiscriminately sweep the whole lot into the garbage, because come a-summertime, this raw tomato sauce is the only condiment I need.

All of the ingredients go into the food processor, which means that it takes 4 minutes to make. I've been eating it on EVERYTHING this week. Breakfast is crostini cut from a whole-grain baguette topped with melty mozzarella and scrambled eggs. Know what tastes great slathered all over that? This sauce.


Noodles sprinkled with fresh basil and topped with a beautiful, sunny 6-minute egg. Know what tastes great with that? This sauce.

The last time I made this sauce it was as an accompaniment to meatloaf, but none of the sauce actually made it to the table, because my family couldn't keep their focaccia-dipping fingers out of it. 

A long slab of crusty bread, a hunk of Parmesan, and this sauce will make you the most popular person at your next potluck.


It's very close to what Giada de Laurentiis taught me is "checca sauce," although naturally I had to make some adjustments for my own taste and the quantities available in my market.

Garlic is a heavy-hitter here, so I'd start with 1 or 2 cloves and then taste to see if it's to your liking. (Personally I like my raw garlic levels somewhere around vampire-killing potency, but that's not for everyone.) Throw in a little dried crushed red pepper if you want things spicy, but even I of the five-alarm taste buds didn't need it here.

Please do try a 6-minute egg when you can. It's the perfect marriage of sunny-side up and hardboiled, although my hardboiled eggs don't turn out this beautifully. (Thank you, Rachael Ray.) The whites are totally cooked, but the yolk stays velvety and runny.

I feel the need to point out that when you are a single lady with a dozen eggs, you are going to find yourself putting eggs on top of a lot of foodstuffs. (You are also going to find yourself opening your spaghetti canister to find that it only has soba noodles in it, but that's another story for another day.) I promise this won't become the Egg on Top Chronicles forever.

Use all those beautiful, perfect, late-summer tomatoes while you can!

Enjoy!


Pasta with Fresh Tomato Sauce and 6-Minute Egg

2 ounces spaghetti or other long pasta
1 egg, at room temperature
Kosher salt, to taste
½ cup Fresh Tomato Sauce (recipe below)
Garnish: fresh basil

1. Cook pasta according to package directions; drain and set aside.

2. Fill a large bowl two-thirds full with ice, and place in the freezer. Bring a medium saucepan half filled with water to a rolling boil over high heat; carefully lower egg into boiling water. Cook egg 6 minutes. With 1 minute remaining in egg cook time, remove bowl of ice from freezer and fill bowl with water. Transfer egg to ice bath with a slotted spoon, let cool, and carefully peel.

3. Transfer hot cooked noodles to a plate, and sprinkle with kosher salt and black pepper to taste. Top with Checca Sauce and egg. Sprinkle egg with additional kosher salt. Garnish, if desired. Makes 1 serving.

Fresh Tomato Sauce

1 pound tomatoes, coarsely chopped
1 bunch green onion (white and pale green parts only), coarsely chopped
2 to 4 garlic cloves, chopped
10 fresh basil leaves
3 tablespoons olive oil
Kosher salt, to taste

Black pepper, to taste

Place first 5 ingredients in a food processor; pulse until coarsely chopped. Stir in kosher salt and black pepper to taste. Makes 2 cups.

 

Despite my affinity for all manner of rich foods—primarily fried potatoes and melted cheese—I feel equally strongly that there has to be something to break up the heaviness (a vegetable, some shocking spiciness) so that you don't end a meal with a brick in your stomach and a vaguely queasy feeling.

I like fresh tomatoes on my pizza and spinach in my dips and happy, crunchy cabbage in my fried rice. I'm not going to eat an Alfredo sauce unless it has 17 tablespoons of dried crushed red pepper in it.

Last night's dinner was mostly an exercise in focused distraction, so I don't think we'll be winning any food photography awards here. Also, I'm suddenly concerned that my oven rests on a steep decline—what's with all the tomato migration?

So I got one of those wild hairs I sometimes get, one of those notions that I need to inject my life with some capital-C challenge, something that will make me more mindful, more healthy, more energized, more wise. In a word, less sleepy.

I'm not even trying to pretend this one is fancy, gourmet, complex, or anything other than what it is, which is delicious.

One of these days I'm going to stop beginning every blog post with an apology for my absence. Like just before the next scheduled Rapture, or after this debt ceiling thing gets sorted out.

You might have to suspend disbelief on this one, though you're probably already in that habit given that I am the woman who extolled the virtues of cole slaw pizza.

This week I learned a very valuable lesson, namely that one should not let too much moss grow under a recipe whipped up on the fly, particularly if one has the attention span of a fly. (It's easy to forget how in the heck you made a dish come together if you don't write it down, it turns out.)

Last week, I got the rather distressing news that the county would like to take my house—or, if they can't have it, they'd like to tax me out of it. I am not in the habit of going down without a fight (and by "fight," I mean "temper tantrum"), so I railed against the man until he said thank you very much, I appreciate your position, hand over your paycheck, por favor. To which I was all, "Oh. Umkay."

Power to the people!

All of which is to say that in the intervening period between March's paychecks No. 1 and No. 2 (whom I love dearly and do not want to see go, amen), I was on something of a budget. And when I say "budget," I mean "less than $19.80 a day." Not a terrible per diem, to be sure, unless you're someone who likes to cook something new every night. Then it's just limiting and cranky-making.

Or is it?! I decided that this arbitrary $19.80 could make for a fun and motivating (albeit still unwelcome) project. I wanted fresh spinach in this dish, but for some unfathomable reason, my grocer was fresh out. So I had to opt for frozen—while I would have preferred the fresh, I'll admit the frozen chopped version was all but free, and I think the flavor difference was inconsequential. Taste the sauce along the way and adjust the amount of mustard to your liking—I wanted this to be really deeply tangy and mustardy, but it's all a matter of taste. (A good-quality mustard is key, though. I used Grey Poupon, which I already had in the larder.) The same is true of the chicken broth; you can add more or less depending upon how thick you prefer your cream sauces. Some of these ingredients I had on hand on the Woodside, but when all was said and done I managed to cobble this together for less than $12.80.*

*Sometimes, when a girl has been roundly slapped by the local tax commissioner, a girl needs a $7 bottle of wine.



Creamy Chicken, Spinach, and Tomato Penne
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 to 1½ pounds chicken cutlets, cut into strips
Salt, to taste
Pepper, to taste
4 garlic cloves, minced
4 tablespoons butter
4 tablespoons flour
2 cups half & half or heavy cream
¼ cup spicy brown mustard
8 ounces Parmigiano Reggiano cheese, freshly grated
Hot sauce (optional)
16 ounces penne pasta
1 cup fat-free, low-sodium chicken broth
1 pint grape tomatoes, halved
1 (10-ounce) box frozen chopped spinach, thawed and wrung out well in a clean dish towel

1. Heat oil in a saucepan over medium heat; add chicken, and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Sauté until golden brown and cooked through. Remove chicken to a plate, and set aside.
2. Add garlic to pan, and sauté about 1 minute or until fragrant. Add butter; when melted, sprinkle over flour, and cook, stirring, about 2 minutes.

2. Add cream to pan, whisking constantly until sauce bubbles and thickens. Reduce heat to low, and stir in mustard, Parmigiano cheese, and hot sauce, if desired.

3. Meanwhile, prepare pasta according to package directions. While pasta cooks, stir sauce occasionally, adding chicken broth, ½ cup at a time, until sauce reaches desired consistency.

4. Stir tomatoes, spinach, and reserved chicken into sauce until heated through; toss with cooked pasta. Top with additional grated Parmigiano, if desired. Makes 4 to 6 servings.

Cheesy Garlic Bread
1 medium baguette, sliced in half lengthwise
Reduced-fat mayonnaise
Garlic powder
Sliced provolone cheese
Freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese

Top baguette halves with mayonnaise, garlic powder, and cheeses. Broil until cheese is melted and browned. Makes 4 to 6 servings.