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potato and broccolini frittata

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I don’t mean to undersell this, but this is just a frittata. It’s not going to help   decimate your weekend’s apple haul, it’s not to going to solve the whole   homemade-pizza-on-your-schedule crisis, it’s not a cake you’ve been missing out on   since 1983, which was 30 years ago, ow. No, it doesn’t have higher powers or   reinvent grilled cheese, it’s not even the life-changing soup stock I’ve been meaning to tell you about for two years now (next week?) and I was about to say that it didn’t make the unconquerable in the kitchen conquerable, except that might not be true. This, in fact, did exactly that last Monday night, when someone told me about the recipe that morning and we had it on the table by dinnertime, no small feat some Mondays. I realize that there’s a woeful dearth of frittata recipes on this site and while I’d like to tell you that I have an solid reason for neglecting the dinner omelet on this site such as not being very into eggs or vege...
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spinach and egg pizzette

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This, this mash-, roast-, horseradish-, bangers-, crisps-, and goose fat-free, is one of my favorite things I ate while I was in the   UK , and it’s not even British. Technically speaking, it was from a Venetian small plates restaurant, although I came to associate meals with generous helpings of gorgeously cooked spinach with the UK, as it appeared, to my delight, on so many plates. I had spinach tangled with a duck breast at a   gastropub   in what felt like the middle of nowhere, spinach in small tufts on another   pizza   (this one alongside a perfect pint) my first jet-lagged night in town, and a perfect amount of spinach at a   pub   on a Sunday afternoon, kissed with the horseradish sauce that had been ladled, to my glee, over my roast, but this was my favorite. Here, spinach that has been wilted and squeezed, is re-plumped, so to speak, with creme fraiche, parmesan, salt and pepper, and is generously spread over a tiny pizza. An eg...
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apple-herb stuffing for all seasons

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I have several stuffing-related confessions to unload today: My first stuffing love was found at a friend’s house, when her mother served us an apple stuffing from a Pepperidge Farm mix that is no longer made, I presume because it’s not 1989. My god, did I nag my mother (who wasn’t terribly keen on packaged foods,  meanie ) to make it too. Sometimes she’d cave, though never often enough, but it didn’t stop me from growing up thinking that the dreamiest stuffing includes tart apples, celery, lightly caramelized onions and herbs, a dream I was repeatedly denied as a child and yes, I’m requesting a very tiny violin. I think if you’re limiting your stuffing consumption to a single day in November, you are missing out. When you snip stuffing free of its holiday-specific tethers, it doesn’t take long to realize how welcome it could be speared onto your fork the other 364 days a year, a category it shares with latkes (as awesome at cocktail parties as the...
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