Recipes by rote and riff: jazz in the kitchen

I cannot tell you what a pleasure it is to live in such a neighborly neighborhood. Yesterday, I made blackberry pies for some of the folks who've been incredibly warm in welcoming us. We have more to make and thank, but in the meantime, the boys took it upon themselves last night to shower, comb their hair (bless his heart, Oliver combed so dramatically that he appeared to have the most extreme comb-over possible. I didn't have the heart to tell him that he looked anything but dashing.), and dress in suits so as to look their nicest as we took our tray o' pies around.

I could whip those pies up on a busy afternoon because doing so is second nature now. When you love to cook, come from a pie-making family, married an ardent pie lover, and have one child who requests birthday pie, you get good at making pie.

And an absolute pleasure that is. Did I tell you about the time I made a pie at a friend's house during a playdate? Because the mood struck and I could? Delightful.

My 40 in forty bit of wisdom for today is thus: master a handful of favorite dishes such that you can make them pretty much anywhere, anytime.

Do this, and you won't need a recipe because your hands and heart know just what to do. You've got the appropriate pots, pans, utensils and ingredients because since you make these dishes so often, the basics are on hand.

The great thing about gaining such fluency with a cadre of beloved recipes is that without realizing it, you also gain greater fluency with general cooking. You can start to riff on dishes, tweaking flavors and textures, personalizing and making them your own. 

Any good recipe was inspired by many others and will influence more to come. Isn't that connectivity with both past and future delightful?

If you're baffled by the idea of mastering five recipes and tucking them in your pocket, start with those you've always loved. Childhood favorites? A great place to begin. The pies I made for our neighbors? Nanny's blackberry pie of course. 

The Brussels sprouts I made yet again tonight? They're my rendition of Blue Duck Tavern's crispy Brussels sprouts with pecorino, capers, and lemon. I first experienced those more than two years ago and knew that I could never go without them as a regular guest in my life. Necessity is the mother of invention, n'est-ce pas?

Candied kumquats? A must for ricotta (also a must). I make both as often as possible. Gumbo? Yes, thank you. Plum tart during plum season? Daily. I have plums on my counter now, just waiting until tomorrow which is when I've willed them to be perfectly ripe. 

Not once will I need to look at a recipe, or if I do, to worry about the instructions or whether or not I have the right ingredients. These are such familiar friends to me now; we pick up right where we last left each other: an empty plate and a licked-clean fork.

After the vent

Boy did I need that enormous vent session here the other night. Thank you to everyone who sent a "Go Girl" my way as well as those who appreciated the Cruz-as-flaccid-member commentary. I adore you all. 

Despite the fact that I ran three miles and then drank a slight bit of Bourbon and then fell asleep in Jack's bed because he was so warm and cute and awoke the next morning with exceedingly foul, unbrushed teeth, I felt loads better. You've just got to let off steam sometimes, in fun ways and explosions too. There's a time and place, people.

'Twas that very damn evening that I hungrily put together a delicious dinner. Garlicky kale- and mozzarella-stuffed chicken breasts wrapped in bacon and pan-seared until golden and juicy and, for good kale measure, kale salad alongside. Totally satisfying, y'all. 

I did not always love smoked mozzarella, but now, I'm exceedingly fond of it when used in smart ways. Ghibellina (a terrific Tuscan place in DC) first lit my smoked mozz fire with its artichoke, green olive, sundried tomato and smoked mozzarella pizza. To.die.for.

My sister recently implored me to try an eggplant and smoked mozz risotto which I have yet to make but plan to.

We continue to settle in and further make this house our home. Yesterday was the Day of Hanging Art which has made a huge difference. In my opinion, art is like furniture for your walls. And if, like we have, you've collected paintings and photographs and kids' drawings and woodblocks and etchings over the years when they've spoken to your soul and heart and you're fond of them like you are good friends, then reuniting with them is really quite an experience.

Even my dear husband who tends to notice nothing walked in last night and said, "Oh, it's so nice to have stuff on the walls."

Indeed.

The Nut is just a happy cat and is striking out in the new 'hood with an ever-expanding radius. Earlier today I found him balance-beaming atop our fence, his body woven like yarn on a loom in a tree. If he could talk, I think he would have agreed that it wasn't the most comfortable position but then again, maybe not. 

Diary of a move, 9: Additional delights

Oooh wee, y'all. All the stress and mayhem and work of moving was SO worth our wonderful new home. The light, the space, the little treats I couldn't have foreseen.

For starters, the ninety-second walk to the fabulous playground/park I mentioned is more awesome than I ever imagined. We tumble out our front door, meander across this delightful roundabout,

walk past one of those charming Little Free Libraries that a neighbor erected in his front yard because his wife wanted one (collective "aw" and also a thank you), and into the park. 

We spent yesterday evening and also this afternoon there, and the boys' glee and laughter is priceless. Plus the burning of their energy is fab.

There is just so much warmth and community here, and we all feel and adore it. Plus, from the Little Free Library I gained a copy of The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks which I have long wanted to read. It's a total page-turner so far.

I've met the three women who live on the other corners of our roundabout, and they are all utterly lovely. Nutmeg and I enjoy sitting on our front stoop looking out at the pretty circle and listening to the symphony of bird calls and the breeze that seems to blow constantly. 

And, do you know what sits just beside my driveway???? 

A real mailbox! People stop all the time to mail letters and bills, and I just delight in what feels like complete old-fashioned behavior. Real mail! I love the steady claim to space an official mailbox provides. I love the heavy metal clink of the door as it dumps post into its belly. And I love the regularity with which someone comes to fetch it all and take it away to be sent out across the world.

That mailbox is one of the elements of this new home that I most love I think. I've already written quite a few letters and know that will continue.

We've already hosted our first party, too, a casual Academy Awards celebration on Sunday night. My parents have hosted one every year since 1981, and it's always been a favorite tradition of mine. Dress code is black tie or blue jeans, and Mom and Dad have always merged the two into a smashing style. 

Aren't they adorable?

This was my take on things, plus high heels of course. We had a ball, I loved Alicia Vikander's gown, and this Green Goddess dip with crudités was awfully delicious.

Life is good AND February is over. Woot!