And the seasons... tomatoes stuffed with orzo and feta

This is an interesting, lovely, somewhat melancholy time of year. To my opinion, the light of October, in late afternoon, in NYC, may be one of the most beautiful things ever. You need to pay attention: it doesn't last long, but it's worth it. If you happen to have some violin music playing in the background too, preferably Strauss, even better. In the markets, ah, so much and such hard choices. Peaches? Yes, but they're not as good as they were. Do you buy those, or the pears that are reaching their peak? Shall I bring home quinces, just starting, and try to make something new with them? Which apple? Or do I get the raspberries that I KNOW aren't as sweet as they were, but... And in vegetables: the corn. No, it won't be as good. Are there REALLY still green beans? Squash? Big and wet but it's squash. Or how about the cabbage, or the root vegetables, or something with carrots. Maybe chard. Oh, so difficult.
So, too, with tomatoes. It's mid October and they are not as wonderful and ripe and sunny as they were in July. You shouldn't expect them to be. But, but... in a little while, they won't be there at all. So, I said yes I will, yes yes, and brought home bages of the not quite ripe beauties. And fortunately, just as I had them home, Joanne Weir was posting what has become one of my favorite recipes for those not perfect tomatoes.

Sometimes, a little bit of cooking will bring out the flavor of a not perfect vegetable. And a "little" bit of cooking can be just a TEENY bit of cooking. In this case, 15 seconds. I'm serious, 15 seconds. This is a recipe where the tomatoes are cooked for just fifteen seconds. Don't believe me? Well, you try it, and see what you think

First, you need orzo pasta. I don't think this would work with another type, so search it out. "Orzo" means barley in Italian, and it's such an Italian thing to name one grain after another. Orzo has an interesting texture, and you can use it to make a risotto, a pastina, and as here, a stuffing. So, here's what you do. But first...

Let's save some water. You're going to have two boiling steps here, so let's save some water by using one pot for both steps. Bring a large pot of water to the boil, and while that's happening, get a bowl filled with ice and water. When the pot of water has come to the boil, put in six-eight medium sized tomatoes, and take them out AFTER FIFTEEN SECONDS and drop them in the ice water.

You're not going to peel these, although the skin will loosen. Hence I was puzzled, until I ate one. That very little bit of cooking seemed to bring more tomato flavor out. So don't omit it.

Now, into that same water, add a big pinch of salt and a cup and a half of orzo. Don't cook it for more than fifteen seconds. Drain it. If you're planning to make a pot of soup, save the water for that. Get the drained pasta into a bowl, add a tablespoon of olive oil, and put it into the fridge for a few hours.

Turn back to those tomatoes now, and cut a nice sized slice off the top. A horizontal cut. Then, with a spoon, carefully cut the innards out and put them to a bowl. You want the shells here, and I'll show ya how to use those innards below. As you hollow out the tomatoes, turn them cut side down onto a paper towel lined sheet. Leave them there until you're ready to use them.

When you are, get that pasta out of the fridge. It will have clumped up. No big thing, break it up with your hands. Now add about 1/2 cup of diced cucumber, any type, and a half cup of diced red onion. Use the red onion. It's sweeter. Then, break up about half a pound of feta cheese, any type you like. Mix it all up, and then add some fresh herbs. I have done this with oregano and with dill. Both are good. The herb MAKES the dish. Oregano makes it taste "Italian," the dill, "Greek."

Your filling is ready except... Taste it. You may not think you need salt because of the feta, but you probably will. And add some pepper too.

Be generous in stuffing those hollow tomatoes. You'd be surprised how much filling you have, and you'll probably have extra. It makes a good snack, or a good late breakfast. It really does.

But to the point: you're now done. If you are in the mood for a cold supper, or something to vary the sandwich routine, you've got it. These are REALLY good.

Now, remember those tomato innards? Well, we are NOT going to waste them. We are going to make a very quick tomato sauce that goes off the beaten path. We're going to use butter, rather than olive oil. And whole cloves of garlic. Peel about four of them, and put them in a sauce pan, with about 3-4 tablespoons of unsalted butter. When the butter has nearly melted, add the tomatoes. Mash them a bit with a fork, and cook them at medium heat. Add a bit of salt and, if you were using oregano, add a few sprigs of that, or whatever else you like. You'll watch as the tomatoes first give up their water, and then dry out. That's what you want: a sauce that is halfway between wet and dry. You'll know what I mean when you do it. It will take about 20 minutes. Taste it.

Not your usual tomato sauce, huh? And, if you REALLY want to go over into new territory, instead of using that oregano, use a stick of sinnamon, and pull it out when you store the sauce.

Now, wasn't that easy? And you've got two dishes: a nice stuffed tomato, and then some sauce for your pasta the next day.

If you think you're wonderful, well, you are.

Monkfish "provencal," with apologies if necessary

Ragazzi, if you are careful eaters, you may feel that it's impossible to know what to eat, and not to eat. First, we have the level of what we SHOULDN'T eat: no trans fats, no preservatives, and so on and so forth. That can be challenging enough, especially since the "experts" in nutrition change their minds and differ so often. But then we move to the next level, the one where Annalena tries to engage the latest theory, that of sustainability . What shouldn't we eat because if we do, it will go extinct? is how I think about it. And as a result, there is no bluefin tuna in this home, for example, and if a restaurant lists a dish as "tuna," instead of specifying what species, we leave it alone. For years, we did so with swordfish and chilean seabass. Of course , we do so with shark.

But monkfish? We had not heard anything about the fish being threatened and went about eating it without a concern. Then, this week Annalena bought some to cook for supper. While looking for a recipe, she picked up Rick Moonen's book on fish cookery. The Index contained precious little about monkfish, and what it did contain, caused concern. Chef Moonen stated that, given the overfishing of monkfish and its threatened state, he would not be including any recipes for it.

Hmmm. Intrigued, Annalena went to what is regarded as the definitive source for information on threatened fish, the so-called "Monterey index." You should look this up. It's extremely informative, if a bit overzealous in Annalena's view, but every movement does need zealots. The index did, in fact consider monkfish a threatened species. Oh, dear.

Now, as she was considering all this, one of Annalena's favorite tv shows broadcast (it is a cooking show, of course), and it featured an interview with a chef from Maine, who is known for his local, seasonal, and sustainable cooking. And the closing shot was of the chef, holding a large whole monkfish in his hands, opening its wide jaws toward the camera.

You may be beginning to get somewhat puzzled. So, Annalena went to her favorite fishermen and asked. Before you start thinking "now isn't that like putting the wolves in charge of the hen house," understand that these fishermen are a small family, with the business being handed down from generation to generation. They do not sell bluefin tuna. They do not sell fish that they cannot bring in from local waters, and they do not sell things like crabs, because they feel that they damage the environment in so doing. They sell monkfish. According to these folks, there is no problem. And the second end of the problem, according to many, is the damage, done to the ocean floor, by trawling, which is how monkfish are caught. According to many of the people who work "in the field," i.e, they fish, this kind of thing does not so much damage the ocean floor as make it more receptive to the breeding of younger fish, which are then eaten by more mature fish.

So, who do you believe? Doesn't it always come down to that? Confused, and with a piece of fish to cook, Annalena went to work, using a recipe she found in Mr. Bittman's book from 1994.

I love this book. It's very basic and very clear. One wonders if Mr. Bittman would leave out certain species if he redid this book, but there is no sign that he is going to do so. Alas, I must leave it to you. If you are squeamish about using monkfish, for any of these reasons, you can substitute any firm, thick white fish. It would not work with flounder, or any flat fish, but if you were to have a thick slice of cod, or even striped bass, it would work exactly as written. You could substitute shrimp, but then you would need to cut back on the cooking time.

Alright, I leave considerations of sustainability to you, and I say, let's cook. You will need very simple ingredients: a pound to a pound and a half of monk fish, or cod, or whatever. If you use the fish, cut it into 3/4-1 inch slices, cutting the piece vertically. You will also need four tablespoons of unsalted butter (use good stuff here, the rich European style, if you can find it), two large, or up to six, small leeks, and you will cut coins from the white parts, a cup of stock of some kind, be it fish or chicken, half a cup of dry white wine (I used gewurtztraminer), a bit of fresh thyme, and half a lemon.

You will also need a wide pan, a plate along side of it, and a slotted spoon. Melt half the butter in the pan, and when it is melted, add the leeks. Saute' them until they begin to soften. It will take about five minutes. When you're there, add the thyme, the wine, and the stock, and let it come to a boil. That will take about a minute. Now, add your fish slices or shrimp, lower the heat to a low medium, and cover the pan. IF you're using shrimp, it will take about five minutes before you need to take them out of the liquid. Other fish? Probably about seven minutes. Move them to the plate you have on the side. Raise the heat to high, and reduce the liquid until you have only about half to 3/4 of a cup. This may take about five-ten minutes. When you're there, add the butter, in small bits, swirling as you add it. It's lovely what happens when you do this, as the liquid emulsifies, thickens, and becomes velvety. Add the fish or shrimp, and turn them briefly in the liquid to coat them. Then squeeze in the lemon juice from the half lemon.

And you're done. Not too hard now, is it? The original recipe calls for eating this with crusty bread, but I can't imagine eating it with anything but rice. Brown rice if you like. And a nice simple green. Spinach is back in season, so we had it with garlic and sesame oil

The issues of sustainability are with us, and we do have to be serious about protecting our earth. But they are complex. Do your research, be informed, and then make your decision. Annalena does not think you can be wrong, if you do your homework first. Be as educated about your food, as you are about anything else. It's important to all of us.

Sometimes, less is more: celery root risotto

Ragazzi, the sun made another turn today and Annalena has reached the ripe old age of 54. Yes, indeed. And, due to circumstances completely out of her control, rather than being at home, getting a food massage from a darling acolyte, she is at work, eating take out food and drinking cold coffee. And they call this a civilized country? C'est la vie, as some would say.

The year has been revealing, and perhaps the day itself has been more revealing than one might have thought. I suppose it is a good idea to make changes when one turns a year older and indeed, Annalena shall be doing so. Time to shrug off some bad stuff and absorb some good stuff: sort of like not drinking the bad coffee that is sitting in front of me.

Well, enough of digression, on to food. An explanation of the first part of the title. A week ago, the Guyman and I were having dinner at one of our favorites, Barbuto. You have read of this place in these blogs before. It seemed that, at least that night, Barbuto had embraced autumn in all of its glory. The menu was crammed with dishes based on winter squash, and then there were many other dishes that reflected the turn of seasons, including a risotto of mushrooms and celery root.

Now, the Guyman and Annalena do not discuss what they are going to eat before they sit down. Sometimes, there is some negotiating, but almost never. We are of the school of thought which says that, if both or even all parties at a restaurant table want the same dish, then they should have it. It happens that sometimes we do, but almost never. This night, we were both drawn to the risotto, but there were many other things that we both wanted, both in the antipasti and secondi sections of the menu. Neither one of us being shy about things like that, we both spoke up, almost simultaneously and before you could say "PRONTO!" we were calorie splurging on a mid course of the risotto , shared.

Now, let me say something here, that will echo or even repeat something I have said in this blog, often. If you wonder why your food at home, does not taste like the food in the restaurant, you should watch the restaurant chefs cook your food sometime. As it happened, we were sitting at a table right outside of the restaurant. We could see the spoon - which was more like a shovel- dumping the butter into the risotto when it was being prepared. It was thus not surprising that the dish was buttery, creamy, and delicious. It should also go without saying that there was no way Annalena was going to add that much butter to her risotto at home.

Beyond buttery and creamy and delicious, however, the dish suffered from the "add on " problem. It was indeed surprising that this happened at Barbuto, where the trend is to "take away" from dishes rather than to add. This was good, but it was as if two different risotti had been made, and combined in one plate. The flavors did not really compliment each other, nor did they complement each other (look up the difference, ragazzi). As a long veteran of many mushroom risotti, there was no challenge to Annalena making this at home; however, celery root in risotto had not occurred to her aged brain before. And of course, she ventured forth and made it.

Lowering the amount of butter was a good thing. Yes, some creaminess was lost, but on a night when we were having veal roast with a truffle butter wine reduction, this was "a good thing." Also, it allowed the strong, green flavor of the celery root to come through.

So, you wanna make it? Here's what ya do. This recipe is for four very large servings, or six smaller ones. You may of course reduce it if you like.

Let us prepare the gnarly celery root first. One medium one is all you need, because the flavor is strong. You will see recipes that advise you to "peel" the celery root. If you try to go at these creatures with a vegetable peeler, you will break the peeler, hurt yourself, curse the vegetable and retire from cooking. Or worse. No, carissimi, what you do with a celery root is as follows: first, make a horizontal cut on the bottom, so that you have a smooth, even surface. Place this cut side down on a secure resting place. Then, take a large knife, and cut down the beast, on the sides, cutting away all of the brown, awkward edges.

Yes, you will lose a lot of the vegetable, but this is what happens with celery root. You will then have a cream colored block that smells of.... celery. Make vertical cuts, about 1/3 of an inch thick, and then using a few at a time, cut them into small cubes. No need to be medically precise here, but you don't want them too large. These will discolor, so if you mind that, immerse them in a little chicken or vegetable stock or wine, whichever you prefer.

Now, make your risotto. I COULD just stop here, but let's review. To make the risotto in the quantities discussed here, you will need 1.5 cups of dry, carnaroli rice, six cups of liquid , be it chicken stock, vegetable stock, or a combination, one small onion chopped, perhaps a rib or two of very finely chopped celery (you can leave this out), and a few tablespoons of olive oil. Also, and you can leave this out too, and replace it with more stock, about 2 ounces of white wine.

Start heating the stock in a pot right next to the vessel in which you are cooking the risotto. In the risotto pot or pan, add the vegetable oil and the onion. When the onion has moved to translucent, add the rice, stir it, and watch the color go to an off white. At that point, add the wine and cook it off. Now, you should be ready to make the risotto. Add a large ladle of stock. It will disappear, almost immediately. The next one will need more time, and you should stir while it is cooking. Work the corners of the pan, because the rice tends to stick here and burn. At this point, you may want to add a teaspoon or so of salt. After you've added the third ladle of stock, add the celery root. I lower the heat at this point, and I don't stir the risotto continuously. I stir it every minute or so, but that is about it, as I replenish the liquid.

Start tasting the rice when there's only about one cup of stock left. You have to be a judge here, as to how tender, and how wet you want the rice. If you use up all of the stock and it's not tender enough for you, then add some water, and keep it cooking. Taste a cube of celery root too. You'll want the celery root to be just a little bit more al dente than the rice, and of course, a little bigger.

Notice that we didn't add any saffron here. That's because we want the celery flavor to "sing." Off the heat, however, lash the risotto with lots of grated parmesan cheese, and maybe a couple of tablespoons of butter.

And you are done. And you have made a fall risotto, to accompany the one you're already making with butternut squash, si?

My fondness for celery root is legendary. And now I have a new recipe for my collection. We will be eating and serving this often as the world grows colder.

"As the world grows colder." Hmmm. Stay posted.

Of sweets, spices and going with the "currant" : Peppers stuffed with lamb sausage

Maybe somebody out there knows: has there been a problem with Zante grapes, the grapes that are used to make dried currants? Annalena asks because, if you have been following her capers, you know that she has had trouble holding onto hers. So, she went out, dutifully checking all of her favorite shops for currants.

None to be found. None on her favorite mail order sites. NOWHERE. Finally, she found some , buried under other stuff, in a large produce store, but what in the name of the Madonna is going on? No currants? JEEZ.

Well, finally having them in hand, Annalena had the last ingredient she needed to make a variation on stuffed peppers. I must tell you, ragazzi, this dish is WONDERFUL. It goes into the "yes, there's some work involved" school, but the results are so good, so savory so all around terrific, that you simply MUST MAKE THIS!!!! Not much small talk today because of the work you're going to need to do. Save your strength.

Here we go. First, you have to have a cup of cooked rice ready. Now, if you are a smart cook, when you prepare rice, you should always prepare extra. It does keep for awhile in the refrigerator and, what no one seems to realize, is that you can freeze cooked rice. Did you know that? I bet even Sue didn't know it. But yes, you can. Let it cool, and then freeze it in small containers. In our house, leftover rice always finds a use somewhere, even if it's incorporated into bread.

OK, so you have your cup of rice. If you also happen to have about half a cup of left over cooked greens, even better. Chop them up and mix them with the rice. And if you don't have the greens left over, look for something else that will give a green note to things, be it frozen peas (which you froze when they were in season...), or something like that. This is going to be part of your filling. Put it aside for a minute though, while you get to the next step.

You need six big, beautiful red peppers. You really do need the red ones. The dish will work with other peppers, but for some reason, the red ones JUST TASTE BETTER here. Cut about a quarter of the top of the pepper off, get rid of the stem, and chop the remaining pepper flesh. TOss it into a pan, with a cup of chopped onion, and about 1/3 cup of olive oil. While this sautes, clean the seeds and stems out of the peppers, and then stand them in a greased baking dish, standing up.

When the onions and peppers have softened, add in the rice and greens, and also add three tablespoons of those alusive currants, and the same quantity of pine nutes. Also add a scant tablespoon of ground cumin. This may sound like a lot, but it's not. You're going to have a lot of filling here. Add salt to taste.

Take that pan off the stove, and toss in half a cup of red wine, keeping our rules for what wine we cook with in mind. Here's the fun part. You need a pound of merquez sausage. A primer here: merquez is lamb sausage, and from what Annalena can tell, Morocco and/or Algeria have the right to say that they made it first. It became popular in France, and thus made its way to the rest of the world. As with all sausages, there are different degrees of spiciness in the sausage. Find one you like. I prefer it a bit spicier, but you may wish for a milder one. There are lots of good brands available, and if your farmers market has someone who vends lamb, I bet you that they have it too.

You're not really interested here, in the sausage "per se," but in the filling. So, split the casings and get the meat out into the mix you already made (Saint Lucy Carmichael used to say she could get the meat out of the sausage without breaking the casing. If you are that good, go for it. Annalena used her knife).

Sausage fillings are packed to different degrees of tightness, so you may have to work a bit to break up the meat, but break it up you must, so that it integrates with the rest of the ingredients you have mixed together.

Smell this. It's wonderful, isn't it? Now, start filling those peppers, and be generous. You've got plenty. Use up all the filling, and then put a slice of lemon on top of each pepper. Now move the whole dish to the oven, preheated to 350, and let it cook for an hour. If you like softer peppers, you could add half a cup of water to the pan as well.

THe cumin, and the spice in the merquez, will make your home smell wonderful, and you will have produced a very rich, very filling dish. One of these peppers is enough for even the biggest appetite.

If you are concerned about the spicing, then mix up some yogurt and lemon juice, and spoon that over the peppers, or make it available to the more timid of the eaters you are serving.

These are NOT good cold, so if you plan on eating leftovers, do plan on warming them.

So, when someone tells you to "stuff it," do what they say.

Somewhat off the beaten track: schiacciata a l'uva

When you study Italian cooking, you learn that the same dish can have several different names, depending on where you're from, or from whom you learned it. The most obvious of these is canneloni/manicotti. If you look up recipes for either of these, I bet you will be struck by their similarity, although it does seem that canneloni are made with more white sauce butter and cream than manicotti, which almost always have tomato sauce over them. And that reflects their origins: canneloni are Northern, manicotti are southern. This "name game" plays out often in pastas, but it also comes across in other dishes, as one will learn.

"Schiacciata," as Annalena learned, is a Tuscan word, rather than an Italian one, and it means "focaccia." She shall take that on faith, and note that while one can find recipes for literally hundreds of focaccie, the only schiacciata recipe she ever encounters, is one for use with grapes. A bit more research turned up more on this rather interesting little dish.

Schiacciata a l'uva is what grape harvesters eat at breaks, or at breakfast or snacks, during the grape harvesting/wine season. Now, lest you fall into a romance about the act of grape harvesting and wine making, let Annalena establish something right up front: this is NOT pretty, romantic word. It's hard, it's hot, it's sweaty and it's sticky.

SILENZIO all of you pigs. Seriously, grape harvesting is not easy and it is not fun. Banish thoughts of that from your mind, immediately. And let's talk more about the recipe.

Let me give you some ingredients: rosemary, olive oil, salt, sugar, flour, grapes with seeds in them. Odd combination? Yes it is, but that's what we're going to use here, in what is, admittedly, a dish that you will either love or hate. I love it. I'm going to make it again this year. And let's get cooking

After one more digression. Did anyone notice that the recipe is written with l'uva, but there is clearly more than one grape in it? Well, that's because grapes, in Italian, are one of the odd words: in the singular, a "grape" is masculine. In the plural, "grapes" are feminine, but take singular endings. a

Got that? I don't either. Just accept it. Remember, most of Italy is Catholic. We get used to accepting the odd.

Now, the first thing you do in this recipe, and you do it ahead of time, is take 1/3 cup of olive oil, and combine it with a very heavy tablespoon of rosemary leaves. Put it in a small pot and warm it up. When you just begin to see bubbles, take it off the heat and let it cool. SERIOUSLY LET IT COOL. You're going to be using this oil in a yeast risen dough and if the oil is too hot, you will get serious flatbread.

You should also prep by getting a generous two cups of grapes off of the stem. Now, what kind of grape? Here, you have to balance authenticity with simplicity of eating. Annalena is unaware of any wine grape that does not have a seed, but she is going to check with Frank, the god of tannins to see if this is true. Most of the grapes we eat are seedless. But you can get grapes with seeds, and you should, in Annalena's view, to get the full experience. Concords work really well here (even if they do not make good wine).

Also, since you're waiting for the oil to cool, measure 3/4 cup of water 2 cups of flour, half a cup of cornmeal, 2 teaspoons of yeast, 5 tablespoons of sugar, half a tablespoon of salt, and a half cup of pine nuts. While some recipes say the nuts are optional, Annalena does not agree.

Is your oil cool to the touch yet? If it is, let's go. If not, go have a glass of wine. When it's cool, combine the water and the yeast , and then add the olive oil - with the rosemary leaves, the flour, the cornmeal, half the sugar, and the salt. You mix this, with a dough hook or by hand , until you have a smooth soft dough. It will not take long. Do recall that doughs with oil in them behave differently than those which use butter or no fat at all, so if things are looking weird, do not worry. Just take your time. It will take about 5 minutes with the dough hook, ten minutes by hand. Then, leave it alone for a good hour and a half, maybe two hours. Go have some more wine, read a book, listen to some opera, but get into the Italian spirit of things.

Some say you should pit the grapes. If you choose to do so, do not let me stop you. Moi? I prefer to drive myself crazy in other ways.

When the dough has doubled, preheat your oven to 400. Spread some oil over a baking sheet. Now, let's stop for a minute and discuss this: this dough is NOT designed to fill a standard, 13x18 inch pan. If you try to do so, you will cry, get frustrated, and assume you did it wrong. You did not. Frankly, it is BARELY sufficient to fill an 11x17 inch pan, but it can be done if you're willing to be patient. It's not supposed to fill a pan: this is as rustic as it gets. So spread it out as well as you can, unless you wish to do what some do, and fill a pie pan or cake pan with it, and go for a round, fluffier look. It will be nice, but it will not be authentic.

After you have spread the dough however you choose, press the grapes and pine nuts into it, and then sprinkle the sugar and salt over the top. If you are a true fan of rosemary, you may add some more at this point (Annalena likes rosemary a lot, but not so much here, please). Put this in the oven, and bake it for a good 25 minutes, maybe 30 ifyou like crispy edges.

This allegedly makes 6-8 servings. To be honest, the flavor is so unusual that I like to cut it in very small pieces so that people can treat it as a canape or pick at it during the day. You will find the pine of the rosemary bouncing off the pine nuts, the salt and the oil bouncing off of each other, and the jamminess of the grapes and the sugar playing off of each other too. THey are all wonderful flavors, and I do wish you would try this. Annalena realizes, however, that this may be one that is too odd for many tastes. If that is you, well, maybe leave out the rosemary and put the salt into the bread (although that makes it decidedly not tuscan). Do "cook" with grapes rather than just eating them raw, however. They are a terrific fall ingredient, and they will be gone before you know it.

One of the best: pear cake

I believe it was Annalena's second blog, where she wrote about pear cake, and the old tradition in Vermont of making a pear cake for your intended beau, if you were a single woman.

I like that tradition. I think that cooking for someone whom you wish to bed down is much underrated as an activity. Why spend money on clothes that really do not fit that you won't wear again where, ultimately, if all else goes wrong, you have a good dinner or a good dessert out of the situation? Hmmm?

Oh, dear, digressing again. Let' return to the topic of pear cake. As the readers know, Annalena is not shy about turning her cooking skills to changing ingredients, and she is not shy about "slumming" as some would have it, for recipes. Both activities come into play here.

Annalena's favorite source for spices is Penzey's. I commend them to you. They had a store not far from where Annalena's alter ego works, but it closed last week. Now, as Annalena waits for their reopening, hopefully at a convenient site, she has their catalog, which always features recipes. There was a recipe in the newest one for an apple cake.

Annalena is always in the mood for a good apple cake, especially one that makes a large amount, with minimal effort, so that she can share with others. Penzey's recipes are good in both respects: they have large yields, and are easy: VERY easy. And this cake thus caught Annalena's eye.

EXCEPT: she had a quantity of very ripe pears on hand. Well... if it didn't work.

It worked. It worked beautifully. And... it uses oil instead of butter.

Quick review here: when a cake uses oil as its fat instead of butter, what does it mean?

I'm smiling. I knew you all remembered. Good for you. Have two pieces of this cake, and say that the oil makes it healthy.

This cake takes a while to make, but making it is absurdly easy. You need a big pan, like a bundt pan, or something along those lines, but that is the only thing you'll have to look for. Oh, and cinnamon sugar. If you don't have cinnamon sugar, make it. Mix a quarter cup of sugar with a teaspoon of good cinnamon. Done

You will need 4 cups of flour, and 2 cups of sugar. Mix these together, and add a tablespoon and a teaspoon of baking powder, and a pinch of salt. All in a mixing bowl. Separately, combine a cup of vegetable oil, 3/4 cup of orange juice (squeeze it yourself), and 4 eggs. Pour that into the flour mixture, and then using the paddle, stir the stuff together until it's just combined.

Grease your baking pan REALLY well. Make sure you get that center portion, which everyone always forgets. Pour in half the batter.

Be careful here. Many people think "half the batter" means "fill half the pan." NOPE. And since most of these pans are not evenly shaped, the volume will differ. You can eyeball, but please keep that in mind.

Now, slice up pears. I don't peel them, peel them if you want, and cover the batter with them. Now sprinkle half that cinnamon sugar on them, and pour in the rest of the batter. Add another layer of pears, and more sugar. Get this into the oven and bake at 350 for 90 minutes.

Not a lot of work there, was it? For the first half hour you will swear you did something wrong. You didn't. After the second half hour, you will begin to worry that the cake will overflow the pan. It won't. And the smell of cinnamon will take over your house (you know, of course, that realtors recommend that you bake something with cinnamon if you're showing your house to someone who's interested in buying it, don't you?).

You want to let this cake sit for about thirty minutes, and then unmold it while it is still warm. There's so much fruit juice and sugar in the cake that, if you let it cool completely, you will never get it out. Trust me on this.

You have a delicious cake here, suitable for company dessert, for coffee, for impressing someone you want to bed down... Just don't feed your intended too much of it. SLows em down...

The flavor's there: roasted eggplant soup

I bet you agree with me: trying to describe the flavor of eggplant is: difficult. It's much easier to describe its color, even if you call it "aubergine." Everyone thinks of that dark purple immediately, but go ahead: give me three words that describe the flavor of eggplant. NOT eggplant parmagiana, not humus, no, not that. Just eggplant.

Not so easy, huh? Annalena is not sure she could give you those words either. Still, it is one of those foods that "I know when I taste it." And it's also one of those foods that really does taste better when its with something else. Does anyone have a recipe that just uses eggplant? I don't think so. You can eat and enjoy steamed broccoli, or a raw tomato, but plain cooked, or raw eggplant? I don't think so.

Cooking eggplant with other things does transform a dish. The flavors meld into something different, but the eggplant taste, with its unidentifiable "finger print" is there. Such is with this soup. Some background.

Annalena has been wondering about eggplant soups for a long time. It should be a vegetable that makes a good soup, because it's very creamy when it's cooked, but without any dairy. It's thick, which makes for a satisfying soup, and there's so much of "it" in one eggplant, that you can make a lot. But how to get FLAVOR?

In researching "eggplant soups," I found that most of them either had almost no eggplant in them, or used fried eggplant as a garnish , or, as is the case in this recipe, roasted it, with other vegetables.

Now, I will be honest (I'm always honest with you... most of the time). This is NOT really the soup I wanted to make. I wanted something that was eggplant ONLY, but as I thought through it, I figured we would try it, and if it didn't work, well, with the season rapidly closing, I would try it again.

This works. It works well. You must make it. The time it takes (nearly 2 hours), may put some of you off, but there is almost no work here. Ready to start? Let's go.

You need 3 pounds of eggplant. The larger specimens will be easier to work with here, but if you have the smaller ones, that's okay too. Stick with the European globe eggplants though. They will make a thicker soup. You will also want six tomatoes. If you have overripe ones, terrific. I bet you could use green ones, too. Don't use heirlooms. Not necessary here. Also, two onions, and about ten cloves of garlic. Peel the garlic, but don't peel the onion. Cut the onion in half, and cut the eggplants in half lengthwise. Preheat your oven to 400, and brush some olive oil on the cut surface of all your vegetables, and toss the garlic in a little of it. Then lay everything out on baking sheets. You will probably need two of them.

When you lay the stuff on the vegetable sheets, lay the cut sides down. If your oven cooks unevenly, the way mine does, rotate the sheets halfway through the 45 minute period you will be roasting . They will take on a caramel color, the tomatoes will wrinkle up, and the smell of roasting onions will make you feel good all over.

So, it took nearly an hour, but how much work did you do? Hmmm...

Get the stuff out and let it cool. Seriously, don't burn yourself here, because it's easy to do so. Take the peels off the onions, and put them in a big soup pot with everything but the eggplants. Then, get yourself a spoon, and scoop the eggplant pulp into the pot too (you can use your hands, but the spoon makes this easier).

Now, add a quart of liquid: chicken stock, vegetable stock, or water if you really must, although I think the water is going to dilute the flavor. Cook this away for 45 minutes.

Now, let's digress to address a cooking issue which did come up while I was making this soup: if you are working with a liquid and it boils away and you didn't want it to, what do you do? Well, if it's a flavored liquid, like stock, assume that the flavoring agents are there. Just add half the amount of water, and proceed. If you need more, later, as I did, add more.

Ok, so we just spent another 45 minutes cooking, but how much work did you do? You put veggies in a pot, and you let them cook. Not too hard, eh?

When the stuff is cool, add it to a blender in small batches, and puree. You're never going to get a totally smooth puree the way you would with a carrot soup, but so what? The color is best described as mahoggany/rust brown. Taste it. Add salt if you want. And you're done. Maybe.

In some variations, cream is added to this soup. I could see cream being added if the only veggie were eggplant, but not here. No, this is good as it is. You'll get about 6-7 cups of soup. More than enough for a good meal for two, or a starter for four.

Eggplant soup. What'll they think up next?