



Well, work has gotten the better of me over the past two weeks. I've been cooking, but I haven't been photographing and writing about it. But last night I had some breathing room on the work front, so I recreated this dish that I'd made with my cooking class on Monday night . . . pears poached in red wine, then served with the reduced poaching liquid, some whipped cream and lemon zest. This is a remarkably simple dish with a fairly high "wow" factor. Everyone in my class loved it and I shared last night's recreation with my girlfriend, who also loved it. Last night we ate them with some Humboldt Fog cheese and champagne . . . a very decadent treat for a Tuesday night, or any night for that matter. As we ate them last night it occurred to me that the dish could be taken to another level by stuffing the hollow cavity of the pear, where the core used to be, with soft, stuffable cheese of some sort. Any suggestions?
Pears and apples are about the only locally grown fruit available at DC farmers markets this time of the year. Both store very well, staying crisp and fresh, if stored properly—just above freezing temperature in a low-oxygen environment. Farmers can harvest them in the fall, store them, and sell them through the winter. This region's farmers market offerings are getting pretty monotonous . . . I'm really looking forward to Spring . . . but trying to make the most of the local food around in March. This is a spin on pears that I'd enjoy anytime, anywhere. The following recipe serves 8.

For the filling:

I had the great pleasure on Saturday of cooking for a smokin' hot Valentines date, which was a lot more fun that last year's romantic dinner for one. I was cooking for a very picky eater, however, which eliminated as options my own favorite romance foods (the only meat she eats is chicken and the only seafood is well-done tuna). But this meal was about her, so I solicited food requests and that's what I made . . . meatless lasagna, apple pie and vanilla ice cream. I also threw in a salad and a mediocre squash soup. I don't really have a lasagna recipe per se. Instead, I make my standard pasta recipe (3 large eggs, 2 cups all purpose flour, a bit of olive oil or water), roll it and then cut it into wide strips and layer it with whatever I'm in the mood for. I then bake it on 375°F, covered with foil, for 30 minutes or so.
Saturday's lasagna was comprised of marinara sauce, spinach, broccoli, mozzarella, ricotta, Parmesan, Romano and some fresh basil thrown on top after baking. Though I don't have a lasagna recipe beyond these general instructions, I do have a recipe for my super-simple marinara. I use this not only with pasta dishes, but also as a pizza sauce. This recipe makes enough for a 9"x13" lasagna.


This is a not-particularly-great looking recreation of a great dish that I taught at my weekly cooking class last Monday. In the class, we made a Swiss chard, onion and cheese crustless quiche and it was delicious. I didn't bring my camera to the class, but I wanted to post the recipe because it's so easy to make and so easy to modify with additional ingredients and flavors. So last night I made a dish similar to the one we made Monday . . . in order to photograph it . . . but I didn't have any chard or other cooking greens. The dish looked a lot better on Monday with some additional color. At any rate, yeah, this is a great foundational recipe.
I should mention at this point that a "crustless" quiche is, perhaps, an oxymoron. A quiche is a pie and pies have crusts. Julia Child, in Mastering the Art of French Cooking, has a section on quiche and the moves on to gratins, which she describes as a quiche without a crust . . . but then goes on to provide a bunch of gratin recipes with a much lower ratio of eggs to other ingredients . . . suggesting that gratins aren't simply the same quiche recipes minus the crust but, instead, substantially different concoctions. Muddling the matter even further is the fact that in this recipe I made a pseudo crust out of breadcrumbs, so the food could more easily be removed from the pie plate after baking . . . which worked really, really well, I should say. At the end of the day, I don't really know what to call this . . . and I think labels are less important than the foods behind them. So I'll call this a crustless quiche, knowing full well that someone with nothing better to do might protest such a label.
Back to the adaptability of this recipe. The foundation of this recipe consists of the eggs, milk and cream. I encourage you to make it as described here, if you feel like it . . . or throw some Swiss chard or other cooking greens in with the onions and add that to the recipe . . . or sauté the onions with some bacon . . . or add some ham . . . throw in some mushrooms . . . add your favorite spices . . . whatever floats your boat. Consider this a master recipe. If you know how to make a quiche out of 4 eggs, a cup of milk and a cup of heavy cream, then you can throw in whatever else you're in the mood for . . . or whatever else is in your fridge that needs to be eaten.
