Ooey gooey. Sticky icky. roley poley doughey ohey puffy uffy BREAKFAST ROLLS!
How obvious would you say it is that I work with three-year-olds?
These buns. Rolls. Cinnamon-glazed to sticky icky. They’re soft and appley and homemade. We make the dough ourselves. We use yeast. Sounds a little scary, but it’s totally not. You can do it. You want to do it. For the ooey gooey, puffy uffy. Breakfast needs more of that, you know?
You know.
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This is a salad. That is correct. Sure, it gets drizzled with truffle oil, sprinkled with strong cheese and topped with fried shallots… but! Technically, salad. I mean, there are vegetables in this thing and you eat it with a fork. So, salad! Perfectly acceptable for consumption in this austere month of January. Don’t you agree?
Don’t tell my mother, but I almost ripped out the battery from my smoke alarm making this salad. The thing is exceptional, in that if I accidentally breath on it wrong, it beeps uncontrollably. Beep! Beep! Beeeeeeep! It loved the “sautée the mushrooms in batches” step of this recipe. Loved it. BEEP BEEEEEEP!
But you know. All’s well that ends well, some people say. And I think I may have mentioned that this ends with truffle oil and crispy shallots. So, yes. Ends well.
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Happy New Year!
Two-thousand twelve. Twenty-twelve. Two zero one two. Too much math, frankly.
Rumor has it this is going to be an awesome year. A shoulders-back, two-feet-in-the-water, go-out-and-grab-it year. Two-thousand twelve. You in?
Maybe we should start with some soup.
This is Jane Bursky’s carrot potato soup. As soups go, this one is particularly friendly; it’s simple, healthy, and a vibrant shade of orange. It’s also just plain good. Like, make-three-batches-in-two-weeks-and-still-be-psyched-to-eat-it-for-dinner-on-night-thirteen-good.
Carrot potato soup! Twenty-twelve, bring it on.
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Just in case!
You might be hosting some friends on New Year’s, and you might need to feed them some little somethings. These roasted figs are some somethings to get behind. They’re easy and elegant, salty and sweet and a little herb-y, too. Great with champagne. You know, just in case.
Roasted Figs with Gorgonzola & Honey
This recipe is a snap to make, and the figs are delicious both warm and at room temperature. Be sure to leave out an empty bowl for the discarded fig stems.
Ingredients:
Directions:
Preheat the oven to 375ºF. Cover a cookie sheet with tin foil (this makes for easy clean up), and lay the figs on the sheet, cut side up.
Drizzle the olive oil over the figs, lightly coating each one, and then sprinkle each with a bit of thyme, salt and pepper. Place the figs in the oven and bake for about 15 minutes, until figs look slightly puckery and juice is beginning to leak from the fruit. Remove from the oven. While the figs are still warm, place a few crumbles of gorgonzola on top of each fig. Once all of the figs have been gorgonzola-ed, drizzle the honey lightly on top.
Remove figs to a serving platter. Enjoy!
Makes 20-24 pieces.
I have this friend. We’ll call him “Big Smooth.” He recently sent me an email entitled “A Dunk & Crumble Complaint.” In the interest of complete and total transparency, I think you should see it. It reads:
“Dear Molly,
As you know, I have been a loyal reader of Dunk & Crumble for months now, and I am generally supportive of all content on the blog. I find it refreshing and witty, and the recipes always look delicious.
However, I feel you have betrayed my trust as a reader by posting a recipe for pistachio cookies. As you know, I am deathly allergic to pistachios, and I do not support any pistachio-related items of any kind. And yet, you have done the unthinkable – you have ENCOURAGED your readership to not only cook with pistachios, but to feature them in the holiest of dessert forms – a cookie! Well, I for one will not stand for this – the pistachio is a deadly, ugly and terrible tasting nut that has no business going near a cookie. I am deeply disturbed by this post, and I hope your other readers feel much the same way.
I sincerely hope that your next series of posts on Dunk & Crumble returns to its roots and features a wide variety of nut-free items that all of America can enjoy safely and deliciously. In the meantime, I shall go into hibernation for a few weeks to ensure that the mass production of pistachio cookies does not permanently wound me. And with that, I say good day.
Steve “Big Smooth” Brauntuch”
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I know. It’s quite a note. My response was as follows:
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It’s beginning to look a lot like cookies. Buttery pistachio ones.
Just trying to make Santa happy. Can you imagine what he might bring you if you left these out for him by the chimney alongside a nice glass of milk? Can you?
You might get tickets to see the new Alvin & the Chipmunks movie! A pretty new cake stand! Maybe you’d get fancy new yoga pants! A Dorie Greenspan baking book! Membership to Bedford Cheese Shop’s cheese of the month club! Or dinner at The French Laundry! A safe yet exciting ride in a hot air balloon! Over Tuscany!
Or maybe you’d just get to eat leftover cookies. That’d be okay too.
But, you know, Tuscany. Or Greece. Or maybe Paris.
Or else just the cookies. Fine. Cookies.
But I’m eating these with a side of two percent (!) milk. Take that, Paris.
Merry merry!
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Sometimes you want a little extra zing in your breakfast. A little bit of zing.
You know?
Meyer lemons are in season now, and a good Meyer lemon makes an excellent (and I mean excellent) muffin. Golden tinged yellow, moist and tender crumbed, flecked with brightly sweet, sour zest — a lemon yogurt quick bread is as good a breakfast as any, I think you will agree.
But when you add some gingerbread spice to a bang-up lemon cake, what you get, my lovely readers, is zing. Maybe you call it zip. Kick. A little get-up-and-go. Maybe you don’t call it anything at all, because you’re, you know, normal, and you just like to sip your tea and swallow your muffin and get on with your day.
Well, fine.
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So, um, this is awkward.
A week after my pro-Christmas/Hannukah-bashing post, and here I am with a recipe for latkes.
Jewish guilt at it’s finest.
In truth, I love latkes. For me, they’re the best part of Hannukah. Better than the story of Judah Maccabee, better than my aunt Lis’ fancy menorah, better than lighting candles for eight nights running is the golden, crispy latke. Gently fried and filled with soft potato and, in this case, butternut squash, they’re like hash browns, only Jewier.
And with homemade apple sauce? Fine. I’ll admit it. Hannukah is kind of awesome.
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‘Tis the season, and all that. Isn’t it? Everyone’s favorite. The season of Christmas trees, candy canes, shiny bells and baubles.
So, um, I’ll just say it. It’s rough to be a Jew in December.
Here, two haikus I wrote to express my feelings this month:
You drink hot cocoa
Wait for fat man in red suit
I fake not caring.
You with your cookies
Justin Bieber sings carols
Me, Chinese take-out.
In truth, I’m not a very good Jew. I mean, I sort of switch hit, this time of year. No offense to Hannukah, but Christmas is just more fun. Sorry, Grandpa. I’m not trying to make any sort of religious statement here; all I’m saying is that I probably bake more Christmas cookies than anyone else with a menorah. I’m okay with it.
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Maybe you had a pretty great Thanksgiving.
Maybe you ate too much of your Gramma’s chopped chicken liver.
Maybe your new cousin Matt wore corduroys to the family football game and nobody cared. Maybe you spent the whole game running in circles and giggling with your other cousin, Katie, anyway, except for the time you caught two passes and did a little Tebowing.
Maybe you made Deb’s sweet potato biscuits and ate them with too much butter.
Maybe you and your Aunt Maggie tried a new pecan pie recipe that totally rocked.
Maybe you clinked lots of glasses, and drank lots of wine, and hugged lots of hugs, and sang made-up songs with your cousin Teddy at the piano.
Maybe you miss it.
Maybe you have leftover sweet potato! Make these.
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