Aside from a certain shredded wheat neurosis (in which said block of cereal had to be thoroughly decimated and submerged in milk before I would touch it) I was never a particularly picky eater. At age 7, I became obsessed with sushi and declared it my favorite food. I ate fairly heartily, usually finishing the comestibles on my plate without a fuss. I didn’t love vegetables, but I would eat them as necessary. (Oh, except when I didn’t feel like it. Then I would ask to be excused outside, where I would toss my greens off of the deck and into the bushes below.)
Here in San Francisco, summer often begins in September and ends in November. Yes, you read that correctly. Summer. That’s of course not counting the teaser heatwave we have every February in which we put on sundresses and drink mimosas out on the sidewalk, rejoicing the end of winter. Before another six months of gloom set in and dispel this myth.
Making delicious roasted potatoes is so easy, there is really no excuse for the pale, bland, flaccid wedges you often find when brunching out. The roots are simply cut, tossed with olive oil and salt, and ignored in the oven for an hour until they develop a crunchy crust and soft interior.
Update 12/10/13: Along with the original bacony version, this pumpkin mac and cheese packed with winter vegetables is one of my favorite dishes. I’ve made it many times throughout the years. I always want this dish a bit more saucy, so I’m planning to give it a proper re-post sometime soon using 2 cups of milk, and 1 cup of goat cheese in place of the ricotta. But for now, here are some updated photographs. Cheers!
Do you spend an inordinate amount of time in the winter berating yourself for things you failed to make the past year, and now must wait many months for the ingredients to come into season again? While thumbing through cookbooks on a cold January day, I must avert my eyes from glossy photos of juicy, ripe berries, cherries, and tomatoes lest I feel the pang of regret for the clafoutis I never got around to baking, or the galette that got away. What was I doing when I didn’t put together that panzanella? Why wasn’t I standing in the kitchen, canning all the precious produce that would soon disappear for half a year?
(Yes, I have issues.)