It’s always a good day when I get to tell you about a new book from Yossy Arefi, member of an elite crew of recipe writers who meet me where I am, namely: in no-fuss, no-brainer baked good land. Her latest book, Snacking Bakes, speaks my love language, offering up baked treats (bars, brownies, cookies, cakes) that can be made in under one hour, in one bowl, with no fancy ingredients or equipment. Last week, I made her Malted Chocolate Cookies and the recipe lived up to its promise. Just the thing to box up in a cookie tin and give this holiday.

Malted Chocolate Cookies
Note from Yossy: These fudgy and rich chocolate cookies have a bonus ingredient that makes them super special: malted milk powder. The malted milk powder gives these cookies a nutty and toasty depth that complements the chocolate so well. I love these with sweet and creamy milk chocolate, but semisweet or bittersweet works, too. You can also swap in a bit of whole-grain flour to give these an even deeper flavor (I love rye).

MAKES 20 COOKIES

8 tablespoons (113g) unsalted butter, melted 
¾ cup (150g) granulated sugar 
1 large egg, cold from the fridge 
1 tablespoon neutral oil 
1 teaspoon vanilla extract 
½ teaspoon fine sea salt 
½ cup (45g) Dutch process cocoa powder, sifted if lumpy 
½ teaspoon baking powder 
¾ cup (96g) all- purpose flour 
¼ cup (30g) malted milk powder
¾ cup (128g) chopped milk chocolate
Flaky sea salt, for sprinkling

Position two racks as close to the center of the oven as possible and preheat to 350ºF. Line two large, rimmed baking sheets with parchment paper. 

In a large bowl, combine the melted butter and sugar and whisk until well combined, about 30 seconds.

Add the egg, oil, vanilla, and salt and whisk until smooth, thick, and glossy, about 30 seconds. 

Whisk in the cocoa powder until smooth. Whisk in the baking powder. Fold in the flour and malt powder with a spatula. When a few streaks of flour remain, fold in the chopped milk chocolate and mix until no streaks of flour remain and the chocolate is evenly distributed in the dough. 

Use a 1½- tablespoon cookie scoop or heaping tablespoon to portion the dough into 20 cookies, 10 on each prepared baking sheet, then sprinkle with flaky sea salt.

Bake the cookies until just set with a few cracks on top, 8 to 10 minutes, switching racks and rotating the pans front to back halfway through baking. You want them to be soft and fudgy. Let the cookies cool on the baking sheets. Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 4 days.

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Please answer a question for me: Is honeynut squash as common as butternut squash these days? I ask because I only ever used to score the smaller, sweeter squash at the farmer’s market during a very specific window of weeks, but now I see them spilling forth out of boxes and crates everywhere I turn — from Trader Joes to Fairway to the 72nd Street corner vegetable stand. (Or maybe it’s because I live in Manhattan now, where hard-to-find things abound?) In spite of the bounty, I can’t seem to shake the habit of hoarding it, which is how I found myself with the absurdly nice (read: out-of-touch?) problem of How do I turn all of these cuties into dinner? I could’ve made my Rigatoni with Chard, Honeynut Squash, and Hazelnuts or replaced the butternut squash in my coconut-milk based squash soup in The Weekday Vegetarians. But I had some time on my hands, so made a batch of fritters featuring squash that I ran through the shredding attachment on the food processor, as well as some Yukon golds, onions, and spinach…

…We ate them with sautéed kale and scallions, a fried egg, and a splash of Mama O’s Kimchili Sauce, which I recommend picking up — not too hot, not too sweet, just the right amount of funk. Honestly, though, this could’ve been breakfast or lunch, too. And the fritters themselves could easily be a make-ahead side for Thanksgiving — I froze more than a dozen and successfully reheated them for subsequent meals. (P.S. Nine surprising things that you can do ahead of time for Thanksgiving.)

Honeynut Squash and Potato Fritters
Makes about 20 medium sized fritters

1 pound 4 ounces russet potatoes (about 3 medium), peeled and cut into chunks that can fit through the shredding attachment of a food processor
1 pound honeynut squash (or butternut squash) peeled, seeded, and cut into chunks that can fit through the shredding attachment of a food processor
1 small yellow onion, peeled and cut into chunks that can fit through the shredding attachment of a food processor
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
2 eggs, lightly beaten (even though that photo doesn’t show it that way!)
1 cup shredded baby spinach
kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
vegetable oil (a lot, or enough to maintain about 1/4 inch in the pan)
suggested toppings: sour cream and chives, quick-sauteed apple slices, kimchi, chili oil, plain yogurt

Grate the potatoes, squash, and onions in a food processor, using the shredded disk. Add to a colander and rinse with cold water. Press down to remove as much moisture as possible, then transfer everything to a dish towel and wrap, squeezing over the sink so every last drop of moisture is extracted. Add to a mixing bowl with the flour, egg, spinach, salt and pepper. Combine everything using a wooden spoon or rubber spatula.

In a large skillet in about 1/4 inch of vegetable oil over medium-high heat, fry 1/3-cup dollops of the vegetable mixture, flattening with a spoon. Fry for about 3 minutes a side, until golden and the eggs look craggy and crispy. Remove to a paper-towel lined platter or baking sheet. Repeat with remaining batter.

Freezing: Allow fritters to cool completely, then place flat in a zip top freezer bag, rows separated by parchment paper. When ready to heat, place on a foil-lined baking sheet and bake at 400°F for 20 minutes. Serve hot with desired toppings.

P.S. For more simple vegetarian recipes, check out my New York Times bestselling book The Weekday Vegetarians. Reminder: All the fun stuff these days happens in the Dinner: A Love Story newsletter on Substack, which is consistently in the Top 10 most-read food newsletters on the entire platform. You can subscribe here.

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Don’t tell Great Grandma Turano, whose namesake meatballs have been the default in our house for decades, but we’ve been silently betraying her for the last year and half. It all started when I read about Anna Francese Gass and hergrandmother’s meatballs, featured in Gass’s 2019 cookbook Heirloom Kitchen: Heritage Recipes and Family Stories from the Tables of Immigrant Women. The recipe has roots in Calabria, and calls for braising the meatballs in a simple basil-garlic infused tomato sauce. In other words, there is no browning the meatballs before they simmer, a step in Great Grandma Turano’s recipe (and in my own Abruzzi-hailing mom’s recipe) that I had always thought was crucial for imparting depth and flavor. Well, I’m sorry to say that the first time I simmered up a batch of these, I was so pleasantly distracted by the addictively tender texture of the meatball that I didn’t notice anything missing at all. (And I don’t even use the fatty veal-beef-pork mixture Gass calls for — I almost alway go with ground dark turkey.) Last weekend, though, feeling heavy with guilt about ignoring our own heirloom meatballs all this time, I decided to apply the braising technique to the flagship recipe, and served the resulting tender, saucy meatballs over creamy polenta. I think even Great Grandma would’ve approved.

Braised Meatballs with Polenta
I find these meatballs are almost too fragile to hold their own alongside a sturdy pasta — I prefer eating them with polenta or on a bed of steamed garlicky spinach with or without a hunk of bread. Serves 4 with leftovers.

For the sauce:
1 large onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, chopped
Red pepper flakes
3 tablespoons olive oil, plus more for drizzling
1 small can tomato paste
1 tablespoon sugar
2 15-ounce cans tomato puree (or diced tomatoes)
2 tablespoons oregano
Few pinches fennel seeds
Small handful thyme or basil

In a Dutch oven, saute onion and garlic and a few red pepper flakes in olive oil over medium low heat until onions are soft and just starting to turn golden. Add tomato paste and sugar and stir, mashing paste and onion mixture together, about 1-2 minutes. Fill empty tomato paste can with water and add to pot, stirring until mixed, another 1-2 minutes. Pour in tomatoes, oregano, fennel, and thyme or basil, and stir. Simmer lazily over low heat, uncovered, for as long as you want: the longer the better. If the sauce gets too thick, add a little water.

For the meatballs:
2 pounds ground beef or ground turkey
1 cup Italian bread crumbs
1 cup shredded Parm
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1 cup chopped flat leaf parsley
Few pinches fennel seeds
2 teaspoons salt
Freshly ground pepper

In a large bowl, combine meat, bread crumbs, eggs, Parm, parsley, fennel, salt and pepper. Mash together with hands until thoroughly combined. Roll into balls (the size of golf balls) and set aside on a plate. When all the meatballs are shaped, add them to the sauce, and simmer, cooking over medium-low heat for at least 30 minutes. (It’s always a good idea to test one meatball to ensure doneness.)

For the Polenta:

4 cups stock (chicken or vegetable) or water
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 cup fine yellow cornmeal 
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/4 cup freshly grated Parm

In a medium pot, bring the stock and salt to a boil, then reduce to a simmer over low heat. Add the cornmeal in a slow, steady stream, whisking continuously so it doesn’t clump. Continue to stir until the polenta starts pulling away from the sides of the pan, 10 to 12 minutes. Remove from the heat. Toss in the butter and cheese, and stir until both are melted.

To serve:

Divide the polenta among four bowls. (If the polenta has sat for too long, it might have set — just stir in a little water to loosen.) Top with meatballs, sauce, a little more Parm, and a drizzle of good olive oil.

I’m ready for the scaffolding to come down in our apartment!

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September, as always, was a busy month, compounded — in a good, happy, lucky way — by our move to Manhattan. Which is probably why this past Sunday, our first completely free day in what felt like weeks, Andy turned to me and said “Why do I feel like I still don’t know my own kitchen?” I knew what he meant, I’ve been using it more than him, but my cooking has definitely been different in the apartment. Cooking for two, instead of four, is obviously a big change from the summer — without the beasts girls around to feed, we have become Olympic-level last-minute planners. The stakes feel lower, so it’s often glorified eggs or a vegetarian soup that at least one voracious child would’ve responded to with “so what’s the next course?” Another difference? We are now surrounded by so much excellent takeout and prepared food that I feel almost guilty if I’m not tapping away on that Seamless app I finally downloaded. It also means I’m very into halfway-homemade cooking — I’ll pick up a few falafel balls at Sido, or some vegetable fritters at Zabar’s (they were good!), or a poached salmon at Citarella then build dinner around them. Last week, I flaked that salmon, tossed it with cooked black quinoa, corn kernels, slow-roasted tomatoes, chopped basil, and a creamy dressing (just one dollop of mayo in my all-purpose dressing did the trick) and, to call my own number here, our dinner absolutely slayed. Official recipe coming soon, but it seems so self-explanatory, that maybe you don’t even need it.

All this to say, since Sunday was free, we were determined to be intentional about Sunday Dinner, doing a proper stock-the-pantry-and-fridge grocery shop, then picking up apples, delicata squash, lots of greens and a beautiful piece of tuna at the 79th Street Greenmarket. As luck would have it, Eric Ripert’s new book Seafood Simple had just arrived in the apartment, so it didn’t take long to figure out how to turn that tuna into dinner. The book lives up to its title, which is an extraordinary task given that Ripert, the Michelin-starred chef from New York’s Le Bernardin, is universally regarded as the LeBron James of Fish. (Or given how long the chef’s been at it — decades — maybe we should be saying that LeBron is the Eric Ripert of basketball?) The book completely demystifies seafood preparation, organizing the recipes by technique — poached, steamed, fried, broiled, etc. — with helpful step-by-step photo tutorials scattered throughout. It’s really a must-own for anyone serious about seafood, or come to think of it, for anyone who is intimidated by seafood and is looking for a little hand-holding. It’s one of the few books that is appropriate for both kinds of home cook. Exhibit A: This absurdly easy, restaurant-style herb-crusted tuna.

Herb-Crusted Yellowfin Tuna
From Seafood Simple, by Eric Ripert
Cut the tuna to a 1-inch thickness — anything bigger causes the crust to become too dry and the middle too cold. The tuna is best served warm an rare to medium-rare. Serves 4

5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling
2 tablespoons good-quality soy sauce
1 tablespoon minced fresh ginger
4 yellowfin tuna steaks (7 ounces each), 1 inch thick, at room temperature (we were only cooking for two, which is why you only see a 12-ounce-ish steak up there)
Fine sea salt and freshly ground white pepper
1/4 cup herbes de Provence
2 cups mesclun
Canola oil for grilling

Preheat an outdoor grill or stovetop grill pan (or cast iron pan) to high heat.

In a small bowl, whisk together the olive oil, soy sauce, and ginger. Set the dressing aside.

Season the tuna with sea salt and white pepper, then coat both sides with herbes de Provence, pressing firmly so that the herbs adhere. Lightly drizzle olive oil over the tuna. 

Lightly season the mesclun with sea salt and white pepper, then toss it in a bowl with a few tablespoons of the dressing.

When the grill/pan is hot, use a pastry brush to apply a small amount of canola oil to the grate/pan. Place the steaks on the hot grill/pan and cook for 1 minute. Gently turn the fish over and cook for 1 minute more. A metal skewer inserted into the thickest part of the fish for 5 seconds should feel warm when touched to your wrist. Remove to a cutting board.

Using a very sharp knife, cut the tuna into 1/2-inch thick slices. Evenly divide and fan the slices on four plates, then pile the salad next to the tuna. Spoon a little more dressing around the tuna and serve immediately.

Note: We added a watermelon radish to the salad and also made a side of sushi rice.

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Anyone who has spent a minute reading Dinner: A Love Story knows about my affection for Leah Koenig’s cookbooks, which I turn to all year long, but especially this time of year as we head into the Jewish holidays. A leading authority on Jewish food, Koenig is a genius at interpreting traditional dishes in a progressive, respectful, and of course, unbelievably delicious way. Her latest cookbook takes this one step further. It’s called Portico: Cooking and Feasting in Rome’s Jewish Kitchen, and it explores the unique, 2000-year-old (!) culinary landscape of Rome’s Jewish Ghetto, or la Cucina Ebraica Romana. Gorgeously photographed by Kristin Teig, the pages take us on a journey down via del Portico d’Ottavia, the main drag in the neighborhood, and around the Ghetto’s ancient narrow streets, passing through sacred synagogues, bakeries with centuries-old ovens, and inside the kitchens of Roman guides and locals. It was a Shabbat dinner at the home of a kosher caterer over a decade ago who “exploded” her previous understanding of what Jewish cuisine was.” The dishes she ate “were neither Ashkenazi (hailing from Central and Eastern Europe), nor Sephardi (hailing from the Iberian Peninsula). They were uniquely Roman and they were incredible.” You’ll find the famous Carciofi Alla Giuda (Jewish-style Fried Artichokes) in these pages, of course, but you’ll also find a classic saucy stuffed zucchini, gnocchi made with semolina, so many sweets (sour cherry ricotta pie!), and a slow-braised beef stew she first ate at that Shabbat dinner. It was so good, Koenig said, that she claims it played a significant role her path to allow meat into her vegetarian diet. (Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this?) In addition to including the fascinating history behind each dish, Koenig includes all the hallmarks of one written for a home cook — there are lots of technique tutorials as well menu suggestions for specific holidays, so you know just what to make when, say, at Rosh Hashanah rolls around, i.e. this week. Here’s one recipe she recommends for the occasion — Chicken with Peppers. I’ll let her tell you about the dish her own words…

Chicken with Peppers (Pollo con Peperoni)
From Portico, by Leah Koenig
Serves 4 to 6

From Leah: Chicken braised with silky roasted bell peppers and tomatoes is a classic Roman dish, and for good reason. Made with just a handful of ingredients, it captures the essence of summer’s bounty. Roman Jews love the dish as much as their neighbors—​in Donatella Limentani Pavoncello’s beautiful cookbook, Dal 1880 ad Oggi(see page 152), she includes a variation of the dish made with morsels of cut-​up chicken breast. She calls it Chicken Delights with Peppers, which I love, because the dish is, indeed, delightful. Serve it with lots of crusty bread for sopping up the vibrant, flavorful sauce.

4 medium yellow or orange bell peppers, washed and dried (stems on is fine)
3 tablespoons extra-​virgin olive oil, plus more if needed
4 pounds bone-​in, skin-​on chicken thighs and legs, excess fat trimmed
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 medium garlic cloves, thinly sliced
¼ teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
½ cup dry white wine
One 14.5-​ounce can whole peeled tomatoes
Chopped fresh basil for serving

Roast and Peel the Peppers: Preheat the broiler and arrange the peppers on a baking sheet. Broil the peppers, turning every 5 minutes or so with tongs, until they are blistered all over and collapsing on themselves, 15 to 20 minutes. Remove the peppers from the broiler, cover with foil or paper towels, and let cool slightly.

Once the peppers are cool enough to handle, remove and discard the skins and seeds and slice them into strips. Set aside. (This step can be completed up to two days in advance. Store the peppers, covered, in the fridge.)

Prepare the Chicken: Heat the oil in a Dutch oven or other large pot over medium-​high heat until shimmering. Season the chicken pieces with salt and pepper and, working in batches, add the chicken, skin side down, to the pot. Sear, turning once, until golden brown on both sides, 10 to 12 minutes per batch; transfer the browned chicken to a plate. Set aside.

Turn the heat down to medium and add a drizzle of oil if the Dutch oven looks dry. Add half of the roasted pepper strips, the garlic, and red pepper flakes, if using, and cook, stirring occasionally, until the garlic is tender and fragrant, about 2 minutes. Stir in the wine and let cook down by about half, 1 to 2 minutes.

Meanwhile, put the tomatoes, with their juices, in a medium bowl and gently squeeze them to break them up into small pieces. Add the tomatoes and their juices to the Dutch oven, along with ¾ teaspoon salt and a generous amount of black pepper.

Nestle the chicken pieces in the sauce, spooning some of it over the top. Turn the heat up to medium-​high and bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to medium-​low, cover, and cook, stirring occasionally, until the chicken is tender, about 45 minutes.

Uncover, turn the heat back to medium-​high, and cook, stirring often, until the sauce thickens a bit, about 10 minutes. Stir in the remaining roasted pepper strips, taste, and add more salt, if desired. Serve hot, generously sprinkled with chopped basil.

Note: You can substitute jarred roasted bell peppers to save the time of roasting the peppers yourself. The flavor of the final dish will not be quite as delicate, but it will still be very tasty.

Photo for Portico, by Kristin Teig.

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Moving was stressful — lists upon lists upon lists upon lists — but I’ll tell you one part of the whole thing that was downright therapeutic: Cooking down the fridge. It’s that magical combination of creativity, and frugality that join forces to be something that is almost a competitive sport for me. (Me against…the trash can?) Not to brag, but I’d definitely make varsity. There were ice cream sandwiches made with half a pint of ice cream and a chocolate chip cookie dough I froze months ago. There were gingery cabbage-and-carrot stuffed dumplings, and TK. And there were these very comforting black bean and pickled onion empanadas, essentially a mash-up of an old DALS black bean burrito recipe with my colleague Bianca Cruz’s mom’s empanada recipe. I had half a head of Napa slaw from the market, so a quick slaw made it dinner. And speaking of sports: If I was still feeding kids on family-dinner-decimating late-night practice schedules, I’d do my future weeknight self a favor and freeze them for a quick grab-and-go meal. Here’s the how-to:

Black Bean Empanadas with Pickled Onions
Make sure to plan ahead for thawing the frozen empanada discs. It takes about 30 minutes. Makes 10 empanadas, enough for 2-3 people. If you’re making for later, freeze and when you’re ready to eat them, heat on a baking sheet at 425°F for 25-30 minutes.

For Onions
2 cups water
3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 medium red onion, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced crosswise

For Filling
2 tablespoons neutral oil
1 garlic clove minced
1 jalapeno, seeded and trimmed of white pith to desired heat level, minced
1 1/2 cups cooked black beans (or 1 15-ounce can), drained
1/4 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon all-purpose adobo seasoning, such as Badia
2-3 scallions, white and light green parts only, minced
10 frozen 5-inch empanada discs, completely thawed
1 cup shredded cheddar
1 egg, whisked

Preheat the oven to 400°F.

Prepare the onions: Bring water, vinegar, sugar, and salt to a boil in a heavy saucepan. Add the onion, and simmer, uncovered about 3 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat and let the onions cool until they are almost room temp.

In a small frying pan, heat the oil over medium heat and add garlic and jalapeno, cooking until aromatic and soft, about 1 minute. Add the beans, cumin, and adobo seasoning and cook for 2 to 3 minutes while gently mashing the beans with the back of a fork. Stir in scallions. Add a tablespoon or two of water as needed to prevent drying out. Turn off heat.

Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. One at a time, on the baking sheet, take an empanada disc and add 1-2 tablespoons of bean filling, three or four thin slices of pickled onions, and 1 to 2 tablespoons of cheese in the middle of the disc. Take one side of the disc and cover the filling––giving you a half circle shape. With the back of a fork, seal the edges by pressing down on the open seam on both sides. Repeat for all empanada discs. Using a sharp knife, slice small slits in the top of each to allow steam to escape, then brush each with egg wash. (I experimented with not brushing one with egg wash — upper right — because I find this step so fussy, but it turns out it does really make a difference in overall appearance, and therefore appeal.)

Bake for 20-25 minutes until golden brown. Serve with salsa and sour cream.

P.S. I know this probably seems crazy, but before Abby left for college pre-season I took her to training one last time even though she’s fully licensed and has been driving herself there for years. Parents who are in the thick of it and dread all that driving: I’m here to tell you that you might miss it someday.

P.S. For more simple vegetarian recipes, check out my New York Times bestselling book The Weekday Vegetarians. Reminder: All the fun stuff these days happens in the Dinner: A Love Story newsletter on Substack, which is consistently in the Top 10 most-read food newsletters on the entire platform. You can subscribe here.

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The other week, on my newsletter, I wrote about Milestone Dinners through the years, and asked readers to suggest menus for our last family dinner in the house before we move. I loved the answers, not only because they were legit delicious recipes, but because they were sentimental, too. It made me realize how much I treasure this community — some of you who weighed in have been reading Dinner: A Love Story since the beginning, over 13 years ago, and know my recipes (and me) so well. At least that’s one thing I know I’m not leaving behind next week when I leave the house that has bookended my daughters’ childhoods. (Twenty years!) Here were some of the suggestions:

From Jenny C: “Doesn’t it have to be one of the recipes from inside the kitchen cabinet?” (By that she means, of course, the recipes painted on the inside of an upper cabinet: Great Grandma Turano’s Meatballs, Rosa’s Mud Cake, Marcella Hazan’s Pork in Milk, or Grandma Catrino’s Biscotti. Don’t worry, the door is coming with me.)

From Beth: “Not to state the obvious but … pork ragu.” (She was not the only one to vote for that one.)

From Cyn: “To me nothing says home, comfort and ‘I love you’ more than meatballs so may I suggest Great Grandma Turano’s Meatballs? Meatball subs, really good rolls, sprinkle of parm cheese and a chopped salad. Yum! and the house will smell irresistible.” (Meatballs in the lead!)

From Danna: “Gotta vote for the black bean burritos with pickled onions – a DALS classic, veg, and easy enough to do in the chaos of moving. If that’s not festive enough, I also loooove the monogrammed pot pies, and they could be themed — NYC as the monogram maybe?” (Both of the recipes Danna suggested are from the first month I launched DALS in 2010. Insane. Thank you for sticking with me, Danna!)

From Robin: “Make your yogurt-marinated chicken on the grill! It’s legendary.”

From Anne: “I’d go for something that will be hard to do in your new place, which means something grilled.” (I appreciated this nod to reality.) 

Alas, because Abby left for college yesterday, the last supper with all four of us happened over the weekend. We went with grilled Salmon Salad, the recipe for which would definitely be painted inside the cabinet door if we recreated it today; S’mores because: S’Mores; and an amazing cocktail called Old Friend (riff on the Old Pal), which felt somehow appropriate.

The cocktail was made with St-Germain and Campari but I do not have permission from the publisher to share it with you, so instead I would like make a case for you to pick up a copy of Meehan’s Bartender Manual, our go-to book for both classic and special cocktails.

Thanks for weighing in, everyone. It was an excellent night. I can’t wait to discover and share new recipes with all of you in the next chapter.

P.S. For simple vegetarian recipes, check out my New York Times bestselling book The Weekday Vegetarians. Reminder: All the fun stuff these days happens in the Dinner: A Love Story newsletter on Substack, which is consistently in the Top 10 most-read food newsletters on the entire platform. You can subscribe here.

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I confess this was actually last week in grilled chicken, and also that it will most likely be next week in grilled chicken and possibly the week after that, too, because the dinner is that good — so fresh and flavorful and just plain beautiful — and I should probably try to control myself before I overdo it. (Longtime readers may recognize the dinner as a new take on a recipe from Jeanne Kelley’s gem-of-a-book Salad for Dinner.) I know it’s popular to hate on grilled chicken breasts these days, but my feeling is that when chicken breasts are marinated properly, pounded to even thickness, not over-grilled (i.e, dried out), then tossed with greens and a good dressing, it’s the best kind of summer eating. Here’s how I did it…

Grilled Chicken with Pineapple and Spicy Peanut Sauce
The recipe serves 2-3, so scale up or down accordingly. The spicy peanut sauce makes almost a cup, though, so you’ll have some leftover, which is a very good thing for your cucumber snacking life, I assure you.

Marinade
juice of two limes
1/4 cup fish sauce
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1/3 cup natural oil

Spicy Peanut Sauce
1/3 cup peanut butter
1/3 cup rice wine vinegar
2 tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons (packed) brown sugar
1 tablespoon Sriracha
1 large garlic clove, pressed

Salad
4 large chicken breasts, pounded thin
14-16 pineapple chunks, threaded onto skewers
12 ounces green beans, boiled for 4 minutes, then plunged into an ice bath
1 red bell pepper, sliced thin
3 tablespoons finely sliced red onion
Spicy peanut sauce (below)
For serving: cilantro, crushed salty peanuts

Whisk marinade ingredients in a small bowl or measuring cup, then pour over chicken breasts in a glass dish, small enough so every piece is somewhat covered by the marinade. (This marinade makes enough to cover four chicken breasts the size you see above.) Let sit for as long as you can, but at least 3 hours. Toss it a few times if you can over that period.

Meanwhile, make your spicy peanut sauce: In a mini food processor, whirl together the peanut butter, rice wine vinegar, brown sugar, soy sauce, Sriracha, and garlic until it’s emulsified. If the sauce is too gloppy (and not drizzly), process in a tablespoon of water at time until you reach desired consistency.

When you are ready to cook, heat a grill to medium-high, and brush with a tiny bit of olive oil. Let any excess marinade drip off the chicken before you place on the grill. Depending on thickness, grill pieces about 5-6 minutes total, flipping halfway, until chicken is firm but not rock hard to the touch. Remove to a platter and let sit. Place pineapple skewers on the grill and cook for about 5 minutes total, turning frequently so the pineapple caramelizes and chars all over. 

Slice the chicken into strips on the bias (as shown), and add to a large bowl with the pineapple, green beans, red pepper, red onion. Drizzle about 1/3 cup of the spicy peanut sauce on top and toss so everything is coated. Serve garnished with cilantro and crushed peanuts.

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When we were in Maine a few weeks ago, we road-tripped to Damariscotta, a picture-perfect town on the Damariscotta River famous for its pristine, hearty oysters. It’s one of those small towns that seemed to have every business necessary to live the good life as a food lover — a butcher-gourmet store, a seafood market, a robust used bookstore, an old pub, an oyster house, etc — and the best version of each one to boot. After downing a few dozen Pemaquid oysters at popular Schooner Landing, we wandered into The Kingfisher & the Queen, a shop that specialized in vintage housewares and gifts, and low and behold, what did I see perched on a little bookstand, next to a jar of antique clothespins and a few bags of Swedish candies, but my first book, Dinner: A Love Story. Poking out of its pages was one of those handwritten recommendation cards (Andy tells me they’re called “shelf talkers”) mentioning that someone named Prudence loved the book, and in particular, how much someone named Roger loved the Swedish Meatballs recipe. Maybe it’s just that the older I get, the more I appreciate how writing books has allowed me to expand my community and connect with people, but I can tell you with certainty that these moments will never get old, in fact they are extremely heartwarming every single time. I found Roger working the register (Prudence, his wife, had just taken off for the day), and then it became an exchange of mutual praise (“I love your recipes!” “I love your store!”) and of books — I signed that Dinner: A Love Story for him and he handed me a vintage copy of…

…the iconic Cooking Down East: Favorite Maine Recipes, by Marjorie Standish. I had no idea it was iconic until Roger told me it was, and I didn’t realize how much I was craving the collection until it was in my hands. It was packed with all the classics: Fish Chowder, Clam Chowder, Corn Chowder, Rolled Haddock Fillets, Loafs and Casseroles and Fricassees, as well as recipes with the best names, like Fish Spencer and Gillie Whoopers. It was published in 1969 during the Joy of Cooking period when the recipes were formatted like this:

Maybe it’s just that I’m so in the thicket of cookbook writing right now, but the spareness of the recipes really spoke to me. There’s a trust thing going on — no longwinded headnotes trying to convince anyone to make what follows, or where you might find cusk, or what “1 tall can of evaporated milk” might work out to in ounces. These are recipes written for cooks who are capable of making leaps: “Cook until done” is a frequent instruction and I had to fight the urge to text my editor to let her know I would be immediately re-writing my next book to reflect this format. But I didn’t. I did the next best thing, tackling Marjorie’s Fish Chowder With Old Fashioned Flavor (the old-fashioned flavor being, I guess the MSG/Accent?) and setting out to prove to myself that I am one of those capable cooks. Plus, I’ve always wanted an alternative to Eventide’s Clam Chowder, which, as you know, is an astonishing bowl of chowder, but also one that requires clam grit-cleaning and clam juice straining, as well as a significant amount of both concentration and big-ticket clean-up items…

…We swapped in this Dashi RDX for the Accent. (I have nothing against MSG, but we just didn’t have it in the house.) A bottle of the Dashi arrived in the mail a few weeks ago as part of a promotion, and we’ve been having fun figuring out ways to use it. It’s a syrupy umami potion, concocted by the Noma Projects team, and made with kombu, bonito flakes, sake, and mushroom. I took notes on other modern updates as I cooked…

Aren’t you impressed by my very official recipe developing process? In the end, though, I did manage to come up with a keeper. Thanks Marjorie Standish! And thanks Prudence and Roger! What a beautiful gift. 

Maine-Style Fish Chowder
Adapted from Cooking Down East, by Marjorie Standish
Serves 4-6

2 piece good-quality smoky bacon
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/3 cup dry white wine
3 medium red or Yukon gold potatoes (peeled and chopped into 3/4 inch cubes)
1 pound cod or haddock
1/2 teaspoons Dashi RDX or Accent or MSG
1 cup whole milk
1/2 cup heavy cream
chopped fresh chives, for serving
oyster crackers, for serving

In a soup or stock pot set over medium heat, fry the bacon until the fat renders and the meat is crisp. Remove to paper towels.

To the bacon fat, add the onions, salt and pepper and cook until the onions are soft, about 5 or 6 minutes. Stir in the potatoes, then add enough water to just cover everything. Bring to a boil, then lower to a simmer, and place the fish fillets on top of the potato-onion mixture, above water level. Sprinkle with more salt and pepper, then cover the pot and cook until the fish is flaky and the potatoes are tender, about 12 minutes. Add the dashi, milk, and cream, and turn heat to medium to warm through. Gently break the fish into large flakes and stir. Serve garnished with chives and crackers.

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It’s not summer til we eat…How would you finish that sentence? The list is long for us, but we managed to check off three major boxes this past week on our Maine vacation — First there was warm Triple Berry Pie with ice cream, which was store-bought, but really reminded me of the one I am about to embark on baking all summer long. (The recipe is from my 2016 book How to Celebrate Everything, but you can also find it in a 2021 dispatch back when my newsletter was just a baby!) Number 2: Grilled Salmon, which is of course, the Best Salmon! The color, the flavor, the char that dances so wonderfully with an herby yogurt sauce or, even better, this bed of spicy avocado sauce. (Don’t even have to turn on the oven for that one, just the blender.) I love how dramatic and colorful it looks. (Grilled salmon also ups the tasty ante considerably on Salmon Salad, of course.)

Lastly, I’m adding a new one to the ever-growing list: Salt and Vinegar Campfire Potatoes, inspired by a little seafood shack in Maine that offered a spray-bottle of malt vinegar at the condiment station next to the ketchup. I’m not sure if it was meant for the fried fish or the fries, but we decided on the fries, British pub style, and then lost our minds. At home, we made the dish our way, pan-frying thinly sliced (< crucial!) unpeeled red potatoes in a 1/4-inch of vegetable oil in a cast iron pan set over the grill, tossing them every few minutes, then shifting the pan around to different heat zones on the grill to prevent burning. (You can of course do this on a stovetop over even medium-high heat, but then I can’t call them “campfire potatoes” which sounds so summery and fun.) When the potatoes are crisp-tender, about 10 minutes total, remove to a paper towel lined plate or bowl to drain. Remove towel, then spray or douse with malt vinegar and sea salt.

P.S. For simple vegetarian recipes, check out my New York Times bestselling book The Weekday Vegetarians. Reminder: All the fun stuff these days happens in the Dinner: A Love Story newsletter on Substack, which is consistently in the Top 10 most-read food newsletters on the entire platform. You can subscribe here.

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As you likely know by now, my most favorite kind of summer cooking is a simply grilled something surrounded by a bounty of farm-fresh, creative salads. (It always reminds me of my old magazine boss, Carrie, whose fashion philosophy was “Gap clothes, Prada accessories.”) This is probably why I love Susan Spungen’s new book Veg Forward so much. You might know Spungen, one of the original Martha Stewart alums, from her legendary annual holiday cookie round-ups. Or you might know her from her newsletter Susanality, a dependable source of inspiration for baking and grilling and — especially — vegetable-forward cooking. As she writes in her intro: “The veggies in this book are driving the bus, they’re not just along for the ride. Every idea for every recipe puts the vegetables first. They are never just tacked on as an afterthought.” Exhibit A: Grilled Savoy Cabbage Wedges with Thai-inspired Dressing, shown above, which I made on Sunday night. Holy moly was that a bold, interesting Prada-esque vegetable dish. And so simple! We served it with a grilled salmon, and I loved the fact that most of my psychic energy was directed towards vegetables instead of the main. Next time, I’ll serve the recipe alongside some baked tofu or seven-minute eggs, which would definitely earn it a spot in the Weeknight Dinner Hall of Fame.

Anyway, I’m working my way through the rest of the book, which is organized by season, and at a certain point I just stopped dog-earing pages, because everything just looked so up my alley. Veg Forward is available everywhere books are sold. Here is the recipe:

Grilled Savoy Cabbage Wedges with Spicy Thai-inspired Dressing
From Susan: Cabbage makes a brief visit to a hot grill, where it takes on a slightly smoky flavor and some crunch. I serve it with a steak knife and fork. Savoy cabbage has a softer texture and milder flavor than ordinary cabbage. Don’t be afraid to use the amount of fish sauce called for—it’s essential to the well-balanced dressing.

For the Dressing:
1 tablespoon lime juice
1 tablespoon light brown sugar
2 tablespoons rice wine vinegar 
1 tablespoon fish sauce or Yondu
1 tablespoon chili garlic sauce or sriracha, plus more to taste
2 tablespoons vegetable oil Freshly ground pepper

For the cabbage
1 head Savoy cabbage (1 1/2 to 2 pounds) 
1 1/2 tablespoons vegetable oil
Kosher salt
1 cup loosely packed mint leaves 
Big handful cilantro sprigs
2 scallions, thinly sliced
1/4 cup salted peanuts, lightly crushed

To make the dressing: Blend the lime juice, brown sugar, vinegar, fish sauce, and chili garlic sauce or sriracha in a small bowl with a fork. Blend in the oil andpepper and set aside.

To grill the cabbage: Trim any wilted or torn outer leaves. Trim the bottom of the stem to remove the brown portion, but leave the stem and core intact so thewedges hold together on the grill.

Cut the head in half, wash well, and pat dry. Then cut each half into 4 wedges, for a total of 8 wedges. Spread out on a baking sheet and coat on all sides with the oil,then sprinkle lightly with salt.

Heat a gas or charcoal grill to medium-high. Grill the cabbage wedges for 2 to 3 minutes on each side until lightly charred on the edges and surfaces.

Arrange the cabbage wedges on a platter and drizzle with the dressing. Roughly chop most of the mint, reserving a handful of whole leaves for garnish. Top with the mint and cilantro and sprinkle with the scallions and peanuts.

We served the cabbage with the simplest grilled salmon filet…

And for dessert, Abby grilled up some pineapple rings…

…which we topped with leftover mint from the vegetables, and grated Sicilian dark chocolate.

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Last month, I was thrilled to speak with my old friend Elizabeth Mayhew, aka The Dutchy, for a Q&A assignment. We worked together at Real Simple and she is the one behind the banana bread that gets more ink on Dinner: A Love Story than either of my children do. Well, Elizabeth is still baking (as she told me in the interview: “That’s what I do. If you invite me to a dinner, you do not ask me to bring wine or cheese. You say, please bring a dessert. Everybody just knows that”), but you might say she’s leveled up a bit since the one-pan banana bread days.

She now runs a bakery in Millbrook, NY, specializing in what she calls Charm Cakes — think charm bracelets, but crafted with flour, sugar, icing and French buttercream. I love these cakes because the details are so incredibly personal and random (see above: McDonalds fries, Advil, Saratoga?!) so naturally I find myself wondering about the person being feted…and also daydreaming about which of my random enthusiams would define me…if one can be defined in French buttercream.

Speaking of that French buttercream — it is famously temperamental and calls for egg yolks, which means at all times Elizabeth has a surplus of egg whites in her Millbrook refrigerator. That, she told me, is how she ended up perfecting her egg white frittata. Here’s her recipe.

Elizabeth Mayhew’s Egg White Frittata

Beat together a dozen egg whites with one 5.3-ounce container of Total Greek yogurt, 5% or 2% (about 1 cup). Add salt and pepper. You don’t have to worry about it being fully incorporated — it’s just egg whites, it’s not going to bind as easily.

Preheat the oven to 375°F. Add a little olive oil to a 9-inch cast iron skillet set over medium heat, and add 1 large sliced onion, cooking until caramelized, about 20 minutes. Add one 8-ounce container of sliced mushrooms (any kind) and cook until they have released all their water.

Meanwhile, mix together 1 1/2 cups grated cheese (Elizabeth does gruyere; or a mixture of 1 cup fontina and 1/2 cup Parm-Pecorino; or 1/2 cup cheddar, it’s very flexible!) Clean and chop 1 bunch of curly kale, about 4 to 5 stalks, ribs removed.

Fold in most of the cheese (reserve 1/4 cup of it) and the kale and to egg white mixture, — it’s going to seem like a lot of kale — then take half of that mixture, pour it into the skillet, and mix it together, so the onion-mushrooms are integrated. Pour in remainder of egg mixture.

Place the skillet on top of a cookie sheet in the preheated oven, and bake for 35-40 minutes. It should get puffy and resist when you touch it. It should come right out of skillet. Slice and eat all week long.

P.S. For simple vegetarian recipes, check out my New York Times bestselling book The Weekday Vegetarians. Reminder: All the fun stuff these days happens in the Dinner: A Love Story newsletter on Substack, which is consistently in the Top 10 most-read food newsletters on the entire platform. You can subscribe here.

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Well, I finally did what I’ve been threatening to do since February’s London visit: I recreated the fish we ate at Noble Rot, that cozy black-wood-paneled restaurant on charming Lambs Conduit street in Bloomsbury that I still haven’t shut up about. We ate some pretty amazing food in London, but I think the fish we ate at Noble Rot is the dish I’m thinking about so many weeks later because of how absurdly simple and elegant it was. The whole thing, as I see it, calls for three main ingredients: A mild white fish (we used flounder; they used a fish called slipsole, slightly more firm), butter, and smoked paprika. In other words, I knew we’d be able to execute something close to it in our own kitchen back home. And we did. Good lord, it tasted amazing. And I’m proud to say the recipe is now on The Official Dinner: A Love Story Rotation. Thank you for the inspiration, Noble Rot.

Pan-Fried Fish with Smoky Brown Butter
I know I don’t need to remind you what the most important rule is when a recipe calls for so few ingredients: Make sure those ingredients are as fresh and high-quality as possible…crucially the fish. As for the brown butter, please know if you’ve never made it before that it’s not hard, but it’s also not the kind of forgiving, wing-it technique that I tend to write about. It definitely needs a little babysitting. Serves 2. Can be doubled.

4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
sea salt
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 pound (two 1/2-pound filets) mild white fish such as flounder, sole, gray sole
kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Make your smoky brown butter: Add the butter to a small saucepan set over medium-low heat. Do not leave your stovetop perch! Watch as the butter melts, then foams, then begins to brown, swirling occasionally as you go. The whole process should take about 4 minutes, but its really an eyeball (and an aromatic) thing: As soon as it starts to smell nutty and you start to see the brown speckles at the bottom of the pan, remove the pan from the heat so the butter doesn’t burn. Stir in the smoked paprika and a pinch of sea salt and set aside.

Heat a cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat and add olive oil. Season the fish with salt and pepper, then pan-fry for about 3 to 4 minutes total, flipping once half-way through. (To measure doneness, the fish should feel firm to the touch but not mushy or rock hard.)

Remove filets to dinner plates and spoon a tablespoon or two of smoky brown butter on top as shown.

P.S. For simple vegetarian recipes, check out my New York Times bestselling book The Weekday Vegetarians. Reminder: All the fun stuff these days happens in the Dinner: A Love Story newsletter on Substack, which is consistently in the Top 10 most-read food newsletters on the entire platform. You can subscribe here.

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“In the late summer of 2019, I hit a wall. I felt cruddy after years of eating everything I wanted, all in the name of professional research.” So beings Andrea Nguyen’s wonderful new cookbook Ever-Green Vietnamese, where she reimagines her traditional Vietnamese repertoire, seeking out savory depth while wearing more plant-forward goggles. Perhaps it’s not a surprise that the whole project energized her creatively and physically, conjuring her childhood in Vietnam, where her mom prepared mostly plant-based meals by necessity — meat was expensive and not as readily available. (Her family fled for Southern California in 1975.) Anyone who has spent a minute with me these last few years knows how much a part of my life Nguyen’s recipes are (her Shaking Beef, her Tofu Banh Mi!) and this book continues the tradition of making one of my more favorite cuisines eminently accessible….

The Pickled Bean Sprout salad that I brought to my friends house on Saturday night (shown here) calls for sugar, salt, white vinegar, water, and vegetables. There are Cauliflower Char Siu Cauliflower Sliders (Bánh Bay Kęp Chay) which involves tossing roasted crispy cauliflower with hoisin, sweet chili sauce, rice vinegar, and soy sauce and Shaking Salmon, the iconic Vietnamese main dish (Nguyen: “I’ve shaken beef and tofu…why not salmon?”) where there’s more salad than fish. And there is this homey, aromatic Tofu-Mushroom Curry, the recipe for which Nguyen was nice enough to share below. Can you believe how good that looks? I’m making it tonight.

Cà Ri Đậu Hũ và Nấm
From Ever-Green Vietnamese, by Andrea Nguyen
Printed with permission

(From Andrea) Here’s a confession: I made so-so Viet vegetable curry for years, relying on fish sauce as a cheat but the flavor was off. Finally, I developed this stellar vegan version. It employs the Indian method of browning fried onion to craft a flavorful base. Garlic and ginger lend zip; tomato, fresh mushrooms, and MSG add savory notes. Tofu soaks up all the flavors.Serve this alluring curry with baguette and a salad, or rice and leafy greens. Use leftovers for tacos.

Makes 4 servings

1 (14- or 16-oz) package extra-firm tofu, water poured off
Fine sea salt
3 Tbsp neutral oil (such as canola or peanut)
2⁄3 cup chopped yellow onion
1 Tbsp finely chopped peeled ginger
1 Tbsp finely chopped garlic
3 Tbsp minced lemongrass
Scant 2 tsp Madras-style curry powder, or a combination of 1 tsp ground coriander, scant 3⁄4 tsp garam masala, and 1⁄4 tsp ground turmeric
1⁄4 tsp MSG, or 1⁄2 tsp Asian mushroom seasoning or Marmite (optional)
1⁄8 tsp cayenne pepper, or 1⁄4 tsp red pepper flakes
6 oz tomato, grated on the largest hole of a box grater (keep juices and seeds)
10 oz medium cremini or white mushrooms, halved through the stems
1 1⁄3 cups full-fat unsweetened coconut milk (whisk before measuring)
1⁄4 cup water, plus more as needed
1⁄4 cup coarsely chopped cilantro sprigs or dill fronds

Pan-fry the tofu

Cut the tofu into 1-inch cubes. Season with a mounded 1⁄4 tsp salt, transfer to a dish towel, and let drain for 10 to 15 minutes.

Set a 12-inch nonstick or carbon-steel skillet over medium-high heat and add 1 Tbsp of the neutral oil. Meanwhile, pat the moisturefrom the tofu (I use a dry area of the dish towel). When the oil ripples, add the tofu and cook for 5 to 6 minutes, turning frequently to brownon two or three sides. Set aside to cool.

Cook the aromatics and simmer the curry

Set a 3-qt saucepan over medium-high heat and add the remaining 2 Tbsp neutral oil. When the oil barely ripples, add the onion and a sprinkling of salt and cook, stirring, for about 5 minutes, until richly browned. Turn the heat to medium, then add the ginger, garlic, lemongrass, curry powder, MSG (if using), and cayenne. Stir for about 30 seconds, until fragrant. Add the tomato, mushrooms, and 1⁄2 tsp salt. Cover and cook for 5 minutes, stirring often. The mixture will condense to half its original volume; splash in water if things stick.

Add 1 cup of the coconut milk, re-cover, and lower the heat to a simmer for 5 minutes. Add the pan-fried tofu and water to barely coverthe solids. Simmer gently, uncovered, for 5 minutes. Turn off the heat and gently stir in the remaining 1⁄3 cup coconut milk; let the curryrest for 10 minutes, uncovered.

Tweak, garnish, and serve

Taste the curry and season with additional salt, if needed; splash in water if the flavors are too strong. Stir in 3 Tbsp of the cilantro, transfer toa serving bowl, and crown with the remaining 1 Tbsp cilantro. Serve immediately.

(Photograph by Aubrie Pick.)

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Greetings eaters and readers! I’m thrilled to present Amanda Hesser’s Easter Menu as the next chapter in my Dinner Party Game Plan series. Here, Amanda, co-founder of Food52 and one of my personal food writing heroes, offers two options, both of which won me over for their ease and elegance. I am so thrilled about her star turn here, in fact, that I’m offering her menu to all Dinner: A Love Story substack readers, not just paying subscribers as usual. You can head over to my substack to get the recipes and the downloadable shopping list and what-to-make-when game plan. Happy Easter everyone, and thank you, Amanda!

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How do I eat vegetarian without leaning on carbs? Since I wrote The Weekday Vegetarians, I have gotten this question at every turn. The first thing I need to say about this is that in general, we eat a normal amount of carbs in our house. We’re not eating pasta every night, but nor are we serving riced cauliflower with our stir-fries. (I’ve tried. I just. Can’t. Do. It.) The second thing I want to say is low-carb vegetarian eating isn’t easy. But there are a few recipes in the old archive that have accidentally fallen into this category, so I wanted to re-up them for all the hounders. The not-so-secret secret is that in order to feel satisfied without carbs and without meat, you need fat and you need protein. To that end: Okonomiyaki (pictured above and recipe below) the savory Japanese pancakes traditionally made with eggs, flour (this recipe requires a very small amount, 1/2 cup spread across eight pancakes), shrimp and pork. I just load them up with mostly cabbage and shredded vegetables, and serve with a salad on the side for a quick Monday night event. Coconut milk can stand in for all kinds of carby things you think you need, as evidenced by Thai Green Curry if you just leave out the rice noodles. (Subscription only.) An indulgent sauce or dressing can do the job, too, as evidenced by this surprisingly satisfying Indonesian-ish Tofu Salad with Pineapple and Peppers which is drizzled with a spicy peanut sauce. Now that I think of it, that off-season caprese I opened with would work in this category as well, if rounded out with a few other small plates. Here is the Okonomiyaki recipe, and as always, please share your own discoveries if you’re into this kinda thing.

Okonomiyaki-Style Crispy Cabbage Pancakes
From The Weekday Vegetarians
Makes 8 3-to-4-inch pancakes

3 tablespoons mayonnaise 
2 teaspoons sriracha sauce
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon soy sauce
4 large eggs
1⁄2 teaspoon kosher salt
1⁄2 cup all-purpose flour
5 cups finely shredded cabbage, preferably napa
3 tablespoons finely chopped fresh chives, plus more (optional) for serving
1 bunch scallions, white and light green parts only, finely chopped (about 2⁄3 cup)
2 tablespoons vegetable oil, plus more as needed

In a small bowl, whisk together the mayo, sriracha, and 1 teaspoon of the soy sauce. Set aside.

In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, salt, the remaining 1 tablespoon soy sauce, and 1⁄3 cup water. Gradually whisk in the flour—it’s OK if the batter is a little lumpy. Gently fold in the cabbage, chives, and scallions.

Heat the vegetable oil in a large nonstick skillet set over medium heat. Heap 1⁄3-cup scoops of batter onto the hot surface, using the bottom of the measuring cup or a spoon to gently flatten them. Fry about three at a time, or as many as fit while giving them space. Cook until golden and crispy on each side, 6 to 8 minutes total. Transfer to a plate tented with foil to keep warm. Repeat with the remaining batter, adding more oil to the skillet if necessary. Serve alongside the sriracha dipping sauce and more chives, if desired.

P.S. For more simple vegetarian recipes, check out my New York Times bestselling book The Weekday Vegetarians. Reminder: All the fun stuff these days happens in the Dinner: A Love Story newsletter on Substack, which is consistently in the Top 10 most-read food newsletters on the entire platform. You can subscribe here.

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I cleaned out our refrigerator over the weekend and found a tub of Gochujang (Korean fermented chile paste) hiding in the back, far away from where most of my condiments live. Which might explain why I forgot about it for some time. And I’m not sure how because it’s one of those ingredients that really earns its keep — it stays good forever in the fridge (up to 2 years) and a little goes a long way to impart a deep, spicy, slightly funky dimension to whatever you’re cheffing up. I particularly like mixing the paste into a glaze for roasted fish, which I did on Sunday. Here’s the no-recipe recipe.

Gochujang-Glazed Salmon
You can find gochujang at any Asian market or specialty store.

For the glaze: Whisk together 1 tablespoon gochujang, 1 tablespoon soy sauce, 1 tablespoon rice wine, 1 tablespoon sesame oil, 2 teaspoons brown sugar. 

For the fish: Slice a 1 1/2-to-2-pound filet of char or salmon into four pieces, season with salt and pepper and place on a foil-lined baking sheet. Set the broiler to high and cook salmon (unglazed) for about 3 minutes. After 3 minutes, brush a thin layer of the glaze on top of each filet, and broil another 2-4 minutes, watching carefully so it doesn’t burn. (If it looks like it’s burning, you can turn off the broiler and just let the hot oven finish cooking it.)

Remove the salmon from the oven when the glaze looks deep red and the edges of the fish are a little crispy. Brush with another suuuuper thin layer of glaze (just to make it a little shiny), sprinkle with toasted sesame seeds and serve with a big green salad. (I made one with butter lettuce, arugula, avocados, radishes, cucumbers, basil, and a sherry-shallot dressing.) Perfect Sunday dinner.

P.S. For simple vegetarian recipes, check out my New York Times bestselling book The Weekday Vegetarians. Reminder: All the fun stuff these days happens in the Dinner: A Love Story newsletter on Substack, which is consistently in the Top 10 most-read food newsletters on the entire platform. You can subscribe here.

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I’ve gotten really into shoving whatever vegetables I’ve got into a 400°F oven soon after breakfast so I have something hearty and healthy waiting for me by lunch time. (Perks of working from home, yes, I know.) Here are three recent winners, which you should of course feel free to serve for dinner.

Roasted Eggplant & Tomatoes with Tahini Dressing

1. Roast Vegetables: Toss eggplant slices and halved tomatoes in olive oil (I try not to drench the eggplant) salt and pepper and roast on a parchment-paper lined cookie sheet for 25-30 minutes. Keep checking — you don’t want tomatoes, which cook faster, to burn. Let cool.

2. Make Maple-Tahini Dressing: Whisk together 1/4 cup tahini (I love Soom premium), 2 teaspoons maple syrup, 1 tablespoon olive oil, dash hot sauce, 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt, and 1 tablespoon water at a time (up to 4 tablespoons) until it reaches drizzle-able consistency. (Depending on your tahini, it might seize for a bit, but keep adding water and whisking, and it will loosen.)

3. Assemble: Combine roasted vegetables, something fresh (dill, cucumbers, a few lettuce leaves), and dressing. Top with za’atar or crushed pistachios. 

Note: Also works with Delicata Squash

Delicata Squash with Greens and Candied Pecans

Prep Squash: Toss delicata squash (sliced and seeded) in olive oil, salt and pepper and roast on a parchment-paper lined cookie sheet for 25-30 minutes. Let cool.

Make Dressing: In a small jar or measuring cup, shake or whisk 1/4 cup lemon juice (from about 1 1/2 lemons), 1 1/2 teaspoon Dijon mustard, 1 1/2 teaspoon honey, salt and pepper. Once mixed, shake or whisk 1/3 cup olive oil into jar in steady stream until emulsified.

Assemble: Combine delicata with greens, minced red onions or scallions, dressing, and chopped spicy pecans. (These are from Trader Joe’s but be warned, they are absurdly addictive.)

Japanese Sweet Potatoes with Lemon Yogurt, Scallion, and Dukkah

We made this one for dinner, actually, and it was based on a side dish Andy ordered at Animal in L.A. and couldn’t stop talking about. To recreate it, I par-boiled two peeled and cubed Murasake potatoes (the not-so-cloyingly sweet variety with purplish skin and white flesh) for about 8 minutes…

…then fried them in a little vegetable oil to crisp up, and topped with lemon yogurt (1/3 cup plain yogurt mixed with 1 tablespoon lemon juice, salt, and pepper, and enough water, about 1 tablespoon, to make it drizzle-able), finely minced scallion and dukkah. (You can also just use za’atar and finely minced pistachios if you can’t find dukkah.) Recipe can be doubled of course. The one above served two.

P.S. For more simple vegetarian recipes like these, check out my New York Times bestselling book The Weekday Vegetarians. Reminder: All the fun stuff these days happens in the Dinner: A Love Story newsletter on Substack, which is consistently in the Top 10 most-read food newsletters on the entire platform. You can subscribe here.

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A few weeks ago, we met some friends for dinner at Maialino, Danny Meyer’s recently relocated Roman trattoria and wine bar that is now housed in the Redbury Hotel and, with its checkered tablecloths and sepia portrait-lined walls, still as charming as ever. We ordered the obligatory cacio e pepe and the vongole, and it was all wonderful, of course, but I confess I only had eyes for the Pollo alla Diavola, a half chicken — skin divinely crisped, meat next-level tender — bathing in a pool of bright orange, pickley peppery sauce. (I mean, come on, how good does that sound?) Naturally, the following weekend, when I was flipping through Samin Nosrat’s seminal Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat, in search of something Saturday-night worthy, I stopped on her recipe for Chicken and Vinegar. It wasn’t exactly the same, but it was enough of a launching point to get me going in the right direction. I added tomato paste and Tabasco sauce in order to recreate the sauce (also borrowing a little from Gabrille Hamilton’s famous-in-my-house cider-braised chicken) and, tbh, really regretted not using skin-on thighs because that crispy sear on the chicken is pretty important. Still, I was happy with the decidedly tangy result…

…which we served with twice-baked potatoes, because they are Phoebe’s favorite and because, well, we aim to please.

Chicken and Vinegar
Inspired by recipes from Samin Nosrat’s Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat and Gabrielle Hamilton’s Prune. Serve with a simple kale salad.

1/2 cup all-purpose flour
kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon olive oil
3 pounds bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs
4 tablespoons butter
2 medium sweet onions, sliced thinly
1 clove garlic, minced
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1 teaspoon Tabasco sauce
3/4 cup dry white wine
6 tablespoons white wine vinegar
2 tablespoons thyme leaves or tarragon leaves, chopped 

Place the flour on a plate or dish, and season with salt and pepper. Add the olive oil to a large Dutch oven set over medium-high heat. When the pan is very hot, start dredging the chicken pieces in the flour then adding to the pot. Cook in batches, three or four pieces at a time, depending on your pot size — you’ll want them to have room to brown. Let the chicken sit undisturbed for at least 6 minutes to ensure a good sear. Flip the chicken and cook another 2 to 3 minutes, then remove each piece to a paper-towel lined plate. They do not have to be cooked through. Repeat with remaining chicken.

Carefully discard the fat and wipe down the surface of the pan. Turn heat to medium. Add the butter and onions, salt, and pepper, cooking until the onions are wilted and starting to caramelize, about 15 to 20 minutes. Add the garlic and cook another 2 minutes. Turn up heat slightly and stir in the tomato paste and Tabasco, cooking until the tomato paste darkens a little and looks toasty. Add the wine and vinegar, scraping down the pan with a wooden spoon to release all the brown bits. Bring to a simmer.

Place half the herbs and all the chicken back into the pot without submerging the pieces. Cover leaving the lid slightly ajar and simmer another 25 minutes. Remove the chicken to a platter, then spoon the sauce and onions on top. Garnish with the remaining tarragon or thyme.

(Top photo credit: Maialino)

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I was thrilled when I first learned that Lauren Fleshman, one of the most decorated American runners in my lifetime, was writing a memoir, Good for a Girl. A few years ago, she published a “Dear Younger Me” essay that went viral, and I think I am responsible for at least half its page views. She was the first person I knew who wrote about the addictive magic of the sport, but didn’t shy away from discussing the dangers of it, particularly for women and girls who get stuck in a cycle of disordered eating when their bodies change, believing the myth that being thinner will make them faster, which inevitably leads to injuries, both emotional and physical. (“There are so many ways to lose yourself in this sport,” she writes hauntingly in Good for a Girl.) As the mother of a competitive runner, I can tell you this was never discussed in locker rooms with high school coaches or in meetings with college coaches the way it should’ve been. Let me rephrase that: It was never discussed at all. Fleshman, who won five NCAA championships for Stanford and two national professional championships, before succumbing to her own devastating injuries, wants to change this. Her book, out today, makes a convincing case that American girls and women are participating in a sports system that is geared towards men and it’s failing them.

As you likely know by now, there are not many things I love more than a running memoir. This is probably because of my daughter and because I’ve run pretty regularly since I was a teenager, too. But also, I think it’s because the same qualities that define great runners — individualistic, introspective, deep-digging, driven — also happen to be the qualities that make great writers. Perhaps the most obvious Exhibit A here is the famous novelist Haruki Murakami. In his slip-of-a-manifesto, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, he writes “the essence of running is about exerting yourself to the fullest within your individual limits: that’s the essence of running, and a metaphor for life– and for me, for writing as well.” In other words, books about running are never really only about running. They’re about self-betterment. The idea that there is always another gear that your body, or your mind, can shift to — even when you’ve got nothing left in the tank — is endlessly fascinating to me. Maybe because it’s also endlessly elusive to me. (Don’t make me show you the splits on this morning’s three miles to prove that point.)

Fleshman continues with this tradition. The early part of her story where she is first discovering her talent and just winning winning winning is what we in the service journalism world might call actionable: So often she made me want to close the book so I could immediately lace up my Hokas. (“I would ramp up my speed until it was impossible to think of anything else but the running,” she writes, “until I wasn’t a girl, or a middle schooler, or in PE class at all. I was just a body, limbs and blood and breath and power. The high followed me out of the locker room into the halls and it grounded me.”) The book is also very insidery (some of my favorite moments were about her sometimes upsetting dealings with the top brass at Nike, her sponsor, including CEO Mark Parker). Ultimately, though, more than inspiring, more than insidery, it’s important.

A few years ago the runner Mary Cain, a young phenom and Olympic hopeful who joined the Nike Oregon Project right out of high school (and who turns up in Fleshman’s book quite often) published a video op-ed for the New York Times chronicling the emotional abuse and body-shaming she suffered at the hands of the legendary coach Alberto Salazar. When the story came up in conversation with a high school track coach a few days later, I’ll never forget what that coach, a guy, said. “What a waste. All that talent and she couldn’t tough it out.” It made my stomach turn thinking of this same guy coaching so many girls. In his defense, he was a full-time history teacher who coached the track team on the side, it’s not like he earned some kind of special certification to get that job. But I have to imagine this is the reality more often than not.

In summation: I want you to read Good for a Girl, but I want your daughter and your daughter’s high school coach and your partner (especially if that partner is male) to read it more.

Related: A talk with Olympic marathoner and filmmaker Alexi Pappas

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