When I originally proclaimed Wednesday night to be “leftovers night!” I feared that Kevin would revolt. We had a lot of Leftovers Nights when I was growing up and they were usually met with reactions that ranged from mild groans of dissatisfaction to downright tantrums of refusal (those were the nights that Ali or I (why couldn’t we ever coordinate, I wonder, because it would have been a lot more fun together) would remain at the table until we ate two/three/four more bites. We’d be there for hours, in some cases. Funny, I have absolutely no recollection of how those stand-offs resolved themselves. Did I really eat the bites? Did my mom cave? I’ll have to ask her.

Anyway, back in 2008, it turned out that Kevin was thrilled with the idea. He was delighted to heap a stack of leftover pizza slices next to a dollop of refrigerated-for-two-days risotto. He was more than happy to nestle in a few forkfuls of Monday’s chicken cacciatore (the clear winner among the leftovers, by the way). And, quite expectedly, he had no problem capping the whole thing off with a remaining wedge of chocolate almond torte.

(Click “more” for the rest of the story, more photos & the recipe.)

Before I knew that leftovers night would be such a hit, though, I figured I better follow it up with something especially special the next night. So, while Kevin was probably still fondly reminiscing about leftovers night, I made a gorgeous, stewy pot of Ina Garten’s coq au vin (a recipe I’d been eying for a while and knew I had to make after seeing it here).

This recipe is very similar to The Barefoot’s beef bourguignon recipe, in terms of method (brown some bacon; sear the meat; saute the vegetables; pour in a half-bottle of wine; simmer away with a bundle of herbs; slide in some frozen pearl onions and sauteed mushrooms at the last minute … as Ina would say, “How bad can that be?”) and ingredients (merely swap beef tenderloin out for chicken pieces). Unsuprisingly, the result is very similar too. The coq au vin was equally earthy, tender and comforting, just not quite as rich as the beef bourguignon. Last night also happened to be Family Dinner, so I sent the leftovers home with Ali. Too bad for Kevin, because now he’ll have to wait a while for the next Leftovers Night(!).

Coq Au Vin
Ina Garten via Food Network

2 tablespoons good olive oil*
4 ounces good bacon or pancetta, diced*
1 (3 to 4-pound) chicken, cut in 8ths**
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/2 pound carrots, cut diagonally in 1-inch pieces
1 yellow onion, sliced
1 teaspoon chopped garlic
1/4 cup Cognac or good brandy
1/2 bottle (375 ml) good dry red wine such as Burgundy
1 cup good chicken stock, preferably homemade
10 fresh thyme sprigs
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature, divided*
1 1/2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1/2 pound frozen small whole onions
1/2 pound cremini mushrooms, stems removed and thickly sliced

Preheat the oven to 250 degrees F.

Heat the olive oil in a large Dutch oven. Add the bacon and cook over medium heat for 8 to 10 minutes, until lightly browned. Remove the bacon to a plate with a slotted spoon.

Meanwhile, lay the chicken out on paper towels and pat dry. Liberally sprinkle the chicken on both sides with salt and pepper. When the bacon is removed, brown the chicken pieces in batches in a single layer for about 5 minutes, turning to brown evenly. Remove the chicken to the plate with the bacon and continue to brown until all the chicken is done. Set aside.

Add the carrots, onions, 2 teaspoons salt, and 1 teaspoon pepper to the pan and cook over medium heat for 10 to 12 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the onions are lightly browned. Add the garlic and cook for 1 more minute. Add the Cognac and put the bacon, chicken, and any juices that collected on the plate into the pot. Add the wine, chicken stock, and thyme and bring to a simmer. Cover the pot with a tight fitting lid and place in the oven for 30 to 40 minutes, until the chicken is just not pink. Remove from the oven and place on top of the stove.

Mash 1 tablespoon of butter and the flour together and stir into the stew. Add the frozen onions. In a medium saute pan, add the remaining 1 tablespoon of butter and cook the mushrooms over medium-low heat for 5 to 10 minutes, until browned. Add to the stew. Bring the stew to a simmer and cook for another 10 minutes. Season to taste. Serve hot.

* I got away with using, at most, half the amount of oil, bacon and butter listed in the recipe.
** I used boneless/skinless chicken breasts and thighs, cut in large chunks.

After my sister, Ali, upped the ante last week with her dinner pick (which she was forced to make in the wake of her Biggest Loser Bowl loss), I knew I had to come up with something pretty good when one of my teams got booted next. And if there’s a dinner that’s only too happy to one-up all the other dinners, it’s lasagna. A couple reasons for my choice …

(Click “more” for the rest of the story, more photos & a layer-by-layer recipe of sorts.)

First, I really like making lasagna. I confess: I love any dish that requires an assembly line. Call it my inner Henry Ford, but there’s something just plain fun about a line-up of delicious ingredients marching across the counter, ready to be put to use.

Second, I’ve made lasagnas laden with meat and lasagnas that were very pared down: just pasta, tomatoes and cheese. The former was always too heavy and the latter a little too plain. I knew that I could find a happy medium, even if it required me to break free of recipes and invent one myself.

Third, it’s bone-chillingly cold here in Chicago. And nothing is quite so warming as a bubbling, oozy pan of goodness, straight from the oven. Especially when it’s accompanied by a glass of spicy red wine and a blazing fire.

In the end, this lasagna satisfied all of the reasons for which I chose it. I got to make an assembly line of beautiful ingredients and work my way through it several times, as I built the lasagna. And, because the assembly line included not just the plain Jane noodles-tomatoes-and-cheese, but also spinach and roasted zucchini and yellow squash, I also satisfied my desire to make a “happy medium lasagna.” And not only did it warm us up the night we ate it, but the next day too; a whole pan’s worth makes for some happy lunches, folks. Finally, and obviously most importantly, it totally out-did my sister’s pick. Beef Bourguignon Schmourguignon.

Because I think of this as much more of a method than a recipe, I thought we could take it step-by-step. Or layer-by-layer, if you will. I’ll suggest variations along the way, but I’m sure that more creative culinary minds could go nuts. First, make your sauce. I went with a basic tomato sauce: saute onions (one medium), minced garlic (two cloves’ worth), fennel seeds (1 teaspoon) and chile flakes (as many as you can handle) in olive oil and a sliver of butter for a touch of richness; add two 28-ounce cans of whole tomatoes—one fire roasted and one not; simmer and puree. If tomatoes aren’t your thing, go for a bechamel or another pureed veggie (like, say, butternut squash). Spoon a thin layer of your sauce in the bottom of a buttered 9-by-13 pan, like so:

Next comes the lasagna sheets. You might make them from scratch, like so, or buy fresh pasta, like so. And you might boil, par-boil or not boil them at all. I par-boiled mine (layer them in another 9-by-13 pan and cover them with boiling water; let them sit until they are slightly pliable and drain). But when I make this lasagna again, I will use dry sheets instead, as I think there was plenty of moisture in the fillings to soften them up and they got a bit too un-al-dente for my liking. However you prep your pasta, take several of the sheets and create a bed of them on top of the sauce:

Next, whip up a ricotta mixture of sorts (mine contained half a container of regular ricotta and a whole container of fat free ricotta; one medium bag of frozen spinach, thawed and drained very, very well; and a sprinkle of salt and freshly-grated nutmeg). You can of course depart at this point to any filling you can dream up, but I think ricotta provides a great “glue” at this stage. Slather the ricotta mixture on the bed of pasta:

Moving right down the assembly line, a layer of roasted vegetables would be lovely here. I went with long, slender slices of zucchini and yellow squash (3 medium-sized versions of each), roasted in olive oil, salt, pepper, chile flakes and dried herbs at 400° for about 30 minutes. I’ll mention a couple additions or substitutions—fennel, mushrooms, eggplant, leeks—but my list could never be exhaustive. Take your roasted produce, whatever it may be, and create the next tier of your lasagna:

On the next step, I’ll be brief. Slice fresh, great quality mozzarella into rounds and pile those on next. After all that spinach and those veggies, we wouldn’t want this to get too healthy, now would we? A sprinkle of Parmesan won’t hurt either. Don’t be stingy:

From here, head directly back to the beginning of the assembly line (sauce) and start it all over again. Repeat—sauce, pasta, ricotta, veggies, cheese—as many times as you can until you are dangerously close to the top of the pan. Stop at whatever layer you’re at (I got through the whole line-up three times) and spread the top with tomato sauce and create a final lid of mozzarella for your lasagna:

Preheat the oven to 425° and, while you wait, take a minute to gaze admiringly at your nearly-finished product. Or, in my case, snap countless photos:

Bake your lasagna at 425° for 35 to 45 minutes, or until the top is browned and bubbly and completely, totally irresistible. The last step—the very, very hardest step—is to let the lasagna sit for at least 20 minutes, so it can firm up. Good luck:

Enjoy a square of the lasagna with a heap of mixed greens. And enjoy it the next day too. And the next, and the next …

I am bursting at the seams to tell you about all of the action in my kitchen over the past couple days. As I’ve said, I’m busy cooking and baking for back-to-back parties this Friday and Saturday. Since Friday’s more of a casual, small gathering, the real kitchen action has been dedicated to Saturday night. And I’d love to tell you all about it. Really, I would. And I will. I promise. But one of the two guests of honor on Saturday night has expressed her desire to be surprised by the line-up of tapas and treats. And, when I take a teensy tiny step back, I too realize that it will be much more fun for her to be surprised.

(Click “more” for the rest of the story, more photos and the recipe.)

And while patience isn’t exactly my forte, luckily, requests are. So, I was happy to indulge my sister in her request for this week’s installment of Family Dinner. As I told you last week, it was actually her duty to choose the meal this week, due to her surprise loss in last week’s Biggest Loser Bowl. She suggested Beef Bourguignon, like the one our step-dad makes. Well, the one he makes features beef tenderloin and is one of the most rich, earthy, decadent dishes I’ve ever savored. Clearly, it’s all my parents’ fault that we have this champagne taste.

I recently spotted our step-dad perusing Ina Garten’s Beef Bourguignon recipe. And I know—know—that the man doesn’t really follow recipes. And that he might have drawn a thing or two from her recipe, but the end creation is always all his. But, because I know he could never reduce his creation to a plain, ol’ recipe, I thought the Barefoot Contessa’s recipe would be as good a starting place as any. I mean, it did call for beef tenderloin, so at least I was on the right track there.

While my end result wasn’t quite as rich and transcendent as the one we’ve come to love at home, I have to say, it was very good. I made a couple tweaks to Ina’s recipe (mostly reducing the oil, bacon and butter and also increasing the liquid to get more of a soup than a stew), to rave reviews. But I’m shaking in my boots a bit, because I lost this week’s installment of Biggest Loser Bowl and now I have to come up with a menu as good as this one for next week’s Family Dinner. And I’ve got to do such brainstorming in between preparing delicious tapas after delicious tapas for Saturday night. I swear, I’ll tell you about them soon!

Filet of Beef Bourguignon
Ina Garten From The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook

1 3-pound filet of beef, trimmed
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
3 to 4 tablespoons good olive oil*
1/4 pound bacon, diced**
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 1/2 cups good dry red wine, such as Burgundy or Chianti
2 cups beef stock
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1 sprig fresh thyme
1/2 pound pearl onions, peeled***
8 to 10 carrots, cut diagonally into 1-inch-thick slices
3 tablespoons unsalted butter at room temperature****
2 tablespoons butter at room temperature****
1/2 pound mushrooms, sliced 1/4-inch thick (domestic or wild)

With a sharp knife, cut the filet crosswise into 1-inch thick slices.***** Salt and pepper the filets on both sides. In a large, heavy-bottomed pan on medium-high heat, saute the slices of beef in batches with 2 to 3 tablespoons oil* until browned on the outside and very rare on the inside, about 2 to 3 minutes on each side. Remove the filets from the pan and set aside on a platter.

In the same pan, saute the bacon on medium-low heat for 5 minutes, until browned and crisp. Remove the bacon and set it aside. Drain all the fat, except 2 tablespoons, from the pan. Add the garlic and cook for 30 seconds.

Deglaze the pan with the red wine and cook on high heat for 1 minute, scraping the bottom of the pan. Add the beef stock, tomato paste, thyme, 1 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. Bring to a boil and cook uncovered on medium-high heat for 10 minutes. Strain the sauce and return it to the pan. Add the onions and carrots and simmer uncovered for 20 to 30 minutes, until the sauce is reduced and the vegetables are cooked.

With a fork mash 2 tablespoons**** of butter and flour into a paste and whisk it gently into the sauce. Simmer for 2 minutes to thicken.

Meanwhile, saute the mushrooms separately in 1 tablespoon butter and 1 tablespoon oil for about 10 minutes, until browned and tender.

Add the filet of beef slices, the mushrooms, and the bacon to the pan with the vegetables and the sauce. Cover and reheat gently for 5 to 10 minutes. Do not overcook. Season to taste and serve immediately.

Note: This dish is excellent made in advance and refrigerated in the pan. When you are ready to serve, heat the filets and sauce over low heat for 10 to 15 minutes, until heated through.

* I used 1 tablespoon of oil here.
** I used 3 slices of bacon.
*** I used frozen pearl onions.
**** I made the thickener out of 1/2 tablespoon each of butter and flour.
***** I cut the filet into 1-inch cubes.

I may have just planned my last Family Dinner for quite some time. Oh, don’t worry: the Family Dinners will continue. Its just that I might only be cooking and enjoying them, rather than menu planning for them. Let me explain.

Ali, Kevin and I have entered into a friendly wager involving the latest season of The Biggest Loser. Let’s face it, the TV pickings are slim these days. What’s more, we don’t have a team in the NFL playoffs, the Bulls are completely awful and March Madness is half a January and a whole February (complete with an extra day for Leap Year!) away. So, folks, we’ve created our own sport.

(Click “more” for the rest of the story, more photos & the recipe)

After week one of this season of The Biggest Loser, which is a “couples” edition (husband-wife, best friends, mother-son … you get the picture), nine couples remained. So the three of us staged an elaborate draft, during which we each selected three teams. From there, the rules are simple: each time one of your teams is eliminated (they are not! the biggest loser!), you have to plan the menu for the next Family Dinner.

And because my team is obviously so stellar, so untouchable, I probably won’t be planning another Family Dinner for weeks! But my swan song, at least, was lovely: a pork tenderloin, roasted in a succulent hoisin glaze. This was my first pork tenderloin (lots of firsts around here lately), though I’ve watched my parents make it dozens of times (theirs usually goes on the grill and is always downright delicious). And, I must admit, there’s something a little intimidating about a larger cut of meat. Maybe it’s because screwing it up means you’ll ruin everyone’s dinner, not just one portion (which you can then discreetly serve yourself — do I sound like I’m speaking from experience here? I am.).

But I couldn’t believe how easy it was to infuse this tenderloin with incredible flavor (a two-hour marinade in hoisin, soy, rice wine vinegar and what I’ll call Asian aromatics did the trick) and roast it to the perfect degree of doneness (those meat thermometers really work!). And the intimidation you might associate with a larger cut of meat will melt away when you are delighted by the stunning display it’ll make. Gosh, I hope Ali (owner of Team Mallory and Curtis, who unfortunately were not! the biggest losers this week) can come up with something just as good for the next family dinner. (Yes, that’s a thinly-veiled threat. And a public one too. Game on.)

Hoisin Pork Tenderloin
Adapted from Cooking Light

1/4 cup hoisin sauce
3 tablespoons sliced green onions, divided
3 tablespoons low-sodium soy sauce, divided
1 tablespoon rice wine vinegar
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 tablespoon ginger, peeled and grated
3/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes, divided
1 (1-pound) pork tenderloin
Cooking spray
1 tablespoon sesame seeds

Combine the hoisin, 2 tablespoons of green onions, 2 tablespoons of soy sauce, rice wine vinegar, garlic, ginger and 1/2 teaspoon of red pepper flakes in a large zip-top bag; add pork to bag. Seal and marinade in refrigerator 2 hours, turning bag once.

Preheat oven to 425°.

Spray the rack of a broiler pan or roasting pan with cooking spray. Remove pork from bag, reserving marinade and placing the pork on the sprayed rack. Roast at 425° for 15 minutes. Sprinkle pork with sesame seeds; bake an additional 5 minutes or until a thermometer registers 160° (slightly pink) [note: this took me closer to 15 additional minutes]. Place on a cutting board; let stand 10 minutes. Cut into (1/2-inch thick) slices.

Pour reserved marinade into a small saucepan, add the remaining 1 tablespoon of soy sauce; bring to a boil. Cook until reduced to desired consistency. Spoon the sauce over the sliced tenderloin and garnish with the remaining green onions and red pepper flakes.

Santa was very kind to me in the kitchen department this year. As you’ll see in a slew of upcoming posts, I was lucky enough to receive a host of cooking implements. One such gift was clearly in response to one of my recent kitchen failures. One weekend this fall, we endeavored to make our own ravioli. Well, the fillings we created were delicious, but the pasta itself was a disaster. I had read in a few places that it was entirely possible to roll out pasta sheets for ravioli by hand. Well, it might be possible, but it certainly didn’t occur when I tried it. Most of the raviolis ended up in the trash (Kevin was kind enough to eat a few, but I couldn’t take more than one). Santa must have known about this disaster and, in response, he got me this:

It’s not quite as scary looking as our potato-ricer-disguised-as-torture-device, but it’s definitely a somewhat ominous-looking contraption. It’s a pasta-making Kitchen Aid attachment. Various inserts allow you to make linguine, spaghetti, fettucine and even sheets of pasta. I spent quite a bit of time perusing the instruction manual and the reviews of the attachment online. Let’s just say that they didn’t exactly ease my fears. In what I thought was an effort to increase our chances of success, I decided to use Kitchen Aid’s pasta recipe included in the instruction booklet and the least risky-looking of the inserts, which promised to yield a thick spaghetti strand. Well, thick it was. And also completely bizarre looking:

Using the machine itself was a challenge. After mixing and kneading the pasta, we began feeding the dough into the attachment in walnut-sized bits, following the instructions. And when I say “we,” I mean it. Using this thing kind of reminded me of assembling Ikea furniture: half-way through the instruction manual full of user-friendly photos depicting two people assembling a dresser you turn the page and–bam!–suddenly there are three people in the photo with the dresser. Likewise, this pasta attachment requires at least two people. At least it does if you want to remain halfway sane during the process.

The difficulty and odd-looking results aside, the pasta was actually really tasty. Especially tossed in two of the three sauces I’d prepared for the evening. You see, my sister was spending the night with us. Her Friday nights typically involve stories along the lines of: “When that place closed we went to X and when X closed we finished off the night at Y. Oh and we stopped off for some food at Z on the way home.” So the least I could do to entertain her on a Friday night in with old, boring married people was create a “bar” of three sauces ready and waiting to douse our weird, but homemade!, pasta strands.

Kevin’s choice was carbonara, a sauce I know he loves (cream, bacon and eggs: shocking that a sauce featuring these ingredients floats his boat, I know). Ali opted for a spicy tomato-and-sausage sauce, with a touch of cream. I went for a porcini mushroom sauce (any time I make myself something that Kevin won’t be eating, it’s a safe bet that it will involve mushrooms). Ali’s and Kevin’s sauces were both really good–I’d recommend them both without reservation. Mine, on the other hand, was not great–runny, bland and, frankly, a waste of $10 worth of dried porcinis. And after my trials and tribulations with the Kitchen Aid, I needed something great. Fortunately, our dessert (recipe and photos coming soon) more than made up for it.

Basic Egg Noodle Pasta
Kitchen Aid

3 large eggs
2 tablespoons water
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

Break eggs into a glass measuring cup. Add water. Carefully check to see that the total liquid amount is 3/4 cup. If less than 3/4 cup, add additional water 1 teaspoon at a time until that amount is reached.

Place flour in a bowl. Attach bowl and flat beater [to a KitchenAid stand mixer]. Turn to speed 2 and gradually add eggs and water. Mix for 30 seconds. Stop mixer and exchange dough hook for flat beater. Turn to speed 2 and knead for 2 minutes.

Remove mixture from bowl and hand knead for 30 seconds to 1 minute. Cover with plastic wrap and let dough rest for 15 minutes before extruding through Pasta Maker.

Carbonara Sauce
Adapted from Food & Wine

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
6 ounces pancetta, sliced 1/4 inch thick and cut into 1-inch strips
1 cup heavy cream
Freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1/2 cup freshly grated pecorino cheese, plus more for serving
1 large egg yolk

Spicy Tomato & Sausage Sauce

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 cup fennel, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes (or more, if desired)
2 links spicy Italian sausage, casing remove
1/2 cup red wine
1 28-ounce can chopped tomatoes, with their juices
2 tablespoons heavy whipping cream

Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. Add the fennel, garlic and red pepper flakes and saute for several minutes. Add the sausage and, using a wooden spoon, crumble and brown the sausage. Once the sausage is browned, add the red wine and tomatoes. Bring to a boil and reduce heat to simmer. Simmer for 15 to 30 minutes. Just before adding the cooked pasta to the sauce, add the heavy whipping cream and stir to incorporate. Add the pasta, toss and serve.

As I’ve mentioned a couple of times, I’m in the middle of final exams. While I’m moving into the home-strech now, last week was pretty busy. Because of that (and as I’ve also mentioned), our kitchen was a little under-utilized last week. One exception, though: family dinner. I really didn’t want to cancel on my sister, who comes over once a week for dinner. But I also couldn’t bear the thought of planning a menu, grocery shopping and prepping. Frankly, the Uniform Commercial Code had ruined my appetite.

So, we set a tentative night for family dinner (Tuesday) and all agreed that we’d play it by ear. By Tuesday afternoon, I still hadn’t made a call. While I would’ve gladly swapped text books for cookbooks and traded in my computer for a cutting board, I didn’t think I could afford the time away from studying. We were this close to pulling the plug. There would always be plenty of time for family dinners in 2008, right?

But, it was Ali to the rescue! My sister saved the family dinner by planning the menu (fajitas and fixins) and doing the shopping. She even braved Whole Foods for me (no fewer than five phone calls were exchanged for additional guidance). Then she hauled all the groceries over to our place on the bus (after waiting in the rain at the bus stop). When she got here (after toweling off—it was really raining), she unloaded the groceries and started chopping veggies and chicken (yes, mom, Ali was slicing and dicing raw chicken). By the time I finished studying and Kevin got home from work, dinner was well under way.

By the time we sat down to eat—with our tortillas bulging with spicy, smoky peppers and chicken, salsa and guacamole—all thoughts of good faith purchasers for value and the fiduciary duties had disapppeared. It was a family dinner fiesta! And it was just the re-charge I needed.

There’s nothing novel, fancy or complicated about these recipes. In fact, I’m sure mine resemble many of yours. But there’s something wonderful about a meal that involves recipes you know by heart and that you can put together with your eyes closed. And something completely nourishing about sharing them with people you love.

Salsa

2 to 3 Roma tomatoes, chopped
1/4 cup red onion, minced
1 jalapeno, minced
1 clove garlic, minced
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
1 tablespoon cilantro, minced
salt and pepper, to taste

Combine all ingredients in a small bowl, cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate. This salsa can be made in advance (I’d say up to four to six hours) and the flavor only improves if you do so.

Guacamole

2 Haas avocados, pitted, peeled and diced
2 tablespoons red onion, minced
1 jalapeno, minced
1 clove garlic, minced
1 tablespoon cilantro, minced
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
1/4 cup Roma tomato, finely chopped
salt, to taste

Combine the first six ingredients in a large bowl (avocado through lime juice). Using a potato masher, mash the ingredients to a chunky consistency. Stir in tomatoes. Season with salt.

Chicken Fajitas

For fajita filling:
2 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves, trimmed and sliced into strips
1 green bell pepper, sliced into strips
1 red bell pepper, sliced into strips
1 red onion, sliced into strips
1 jalapeno, minced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon cilantro, minced
1 tablespoon cumin
2 teaspoons chili powder
dash of cayenne
dash of ground coriander
1/4 cup tequila
1/4 cup fresh lime juice

For serving:
tortillas
sour cream
shredded cheddar
lime wedges
salsa (see above)
guacamole (see above)

Combine all the fajita filling ingredients in a gallon-sized Ziploc bag and seal. Shake to coat the peppers, onions and chicken with the seasonings. Refrigerate for about 30 mintues.

Heat a well-seasoned grill pan over medium-high heat. Grill the marinated fajita mixture until the chicken is cooked through, about 8 to 10 minutes. Serve with warm tortillas and all the fixings.

Last night was Family Dinner. My sister was coming over for the evening to not only dine but to help us trim our Christmas tree (which is fake–point of contention–and on it’s very last leg, after moving from DC to Chicago and then again across Chicago) and otherwise decorate our place for the holidays (or Chrismakkah, as this “blended household” likes to call it).

What was on the menu, you ask? One might guess I had planned a festive meal—something pure holidays or perhaps just seasonal. Something that fit the holiday color scheme at the very least (but that’s probably a little too “semi-homemade” for my taste; what’s next? a tablescape & a cocktail?). But, because I am the Grinch, I eschewed these thoughts and instead opted for one of my favorite summer meals–an Asian pan seared/oven roasted salmon recipe. You see, I’m on a mission to make my sister a salmon fan. Yes, I repeat, I’m the Grinch. She comes over once a week and I made her a dinner featuring a protein about which she’s on the fence.

I also chose this recipe because it’s insanely quick and easy—perfect for this evening, because I didn’t want to miss too much of the tree trimming. I also was pretty sure it would win my sister over. The flavors in the glaze are some of her favorites. The same tactic (smother a potentially un-popular item in ingredients sure to please) worked with my husband when he began to eat more fish.

Operation Make-a-Salmon-Fan-out-of-Ali was a success. She cleaned her plate (which also included steamed edamame, tossed with sesame oil, black sesame seeds and chili flakes, and brown rice). And our place looks gorgeous, decked out with a tree (fake), menorah (a little too early, I know, but it’s all in the same box), garland and wreath. In retrospect, maybe I should’ve at least served some egg nog or glogg …. no, no, no. Who am I kidding? The wine was just fine.

Pan-Roasted Salmon with Ginger-Soy Glaze
Food & Wine

Ingredients:
¼ c. soy sauce
1 tsp. finely grated ginger
1 tsp. Dijon mustard
1 tsp. honey
2 tsp. extra-virgin olive oil
4 skinless salmon fillets (4 to 6 oz. apiece)
freshly ground pepper
cilantro leaves, for garnish*

Instructions:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. In a small saucepan, combine the soy sauce and ginger and bring to a simmer. Remove from heat and stir in the honey and mustard.**

Heat the olive oil in a large nonstick ovenproof skillet. Season the salmon with pepper and add it to the skillet, skinned side up. Cook over high heat until golden and crusty, 2 to 3 minutes. Turn the salmon and spoon the ginger soy glaze on top. Transfer the skillet to the oven and bake the salmon for 5 minutes, or until cooked through. Using a slotted spatula, transfer the salmon fillets to plates, garnish with cilantro and serve.

* I also like to garnish with a lime wedge, a fresh squeeze of which livens the dish.

** One of the first times I made this recipe, I accidentally combined the soy sauce, ginger, honey and mustard at the same time (before heating it). It was a fortuitous mistake, because I prefer the consistency of the glaze this way (thicker/more body). But both methods work perfectly well.

Growing up, my sister was a stand-out hockey player. Yes folks, in Minnesota (and elsewhere), girls play hockey. I, on the other hand, can fend for myself on a pair of skates—but give me a hockey stick, and it’s all down hill (read: it’s all fall down) from there. While she was the captain of her hockey team, I was the student council president. While she shot pucks at our battered garage door, I tucked into good books.

Our differences continued during our childhoods and early adulthood. I hesitantly chose a college that, at 7,500 undergrads, seemed impossibly large to me. By contrast, her Big Ten alma mater seemed just big enough to her at 30,000 undergrads. There, she developed a real flair for the social life, which garnered countless great stories—some riotous and others regretful. As she put it in her Maid-of-Honor-Toast at my wedding last August: “Kristin chose a career in the law. And, me? I’ve had a few run-in’s with the law.” (Don’t worry, nothing serious.)

So I guess it shouldn’t come as a shock that I developed a penchant for complicated recipes and obscure ingredients when I finally had a kitchen to myself after college, while my sister has turned to Lean Cuisines with a vengeance in her newly-fresh-from-college days. Despite my deep, wide, intense dislike for frozen, boxed dinners (especially those containing 50% or more of one’s daily recommended intake of sodium), I can’t complain too much. You see, my sister’s first real kitchen is here in Chicago—less than mile from my place.

This proximity has spawned what we now affectionately call “Family Dinner.” My parents aren’t here (and we always wish they were!), but my sister, husband and I have formed a little Windy City tradition of our own. Each week, Ali gets a respite from the Lean Cuisine regimen and makes the trek west on Armitage to our place (never fear—she cues up her DVR to catch whatever TV shows she might be missing that night). And I have an excuse to hatch a particularly delectable menu approximately once a week (and an excuse to have an extra glass of wine, too!).

During one of our first Family Dinners, we embarked on a homemade pizza recipe I found at smittenkitchen.com. As an avowed pizza connoisseur, I have never been bowled over by the pies I’ve whipped up myself. The crust is too spongy, the sauce lacks pizzazz (wow – that almost spelled pizza – cool), and the toppings just never attain the right level of doneness. They simply can’t live up to my favorite Chicago spots (none of which, by the way, involve the deep dish style for which this fair city is known): Spacca Napoli, Piece and Coalfire.

But I’ve come to trust Deb, the woman at the helm of Smitten Kitchen. And, with her pizza recipe, she didn’t lead me astray. In fact, she even led Ali on one of her first major culinary voyages—she and I staged a pizza cook off, of sorts. We each made a pie and left my husband, Kevin, (all too happy to be the judge) to choose a winner.

In the Family Dinners since then, I’ve taken the reins on much of the cooking. I assumed my sister would much prefer a home-cooked meal (one that didn’t leave her up-to-the-elbows in flour) to being roped into sous chef duties. Much to my surprise, then, my mom recently called while my sister was visiting her in Minnesota. Apparently, Ali had announced a make-your-own pizza night, using none other than the recipe we’d used during Family Dinner. Maybe we aren’t so different after all. And perhaps my assumption that Ali didn’t like being “roped into” a kitchen duty or two was just plain wrong.

Oh, and the winner of the original Family Dinner bake off shall remain nameless!

Pizza Dough Recipe from SmittenKitchen.com

Basic, Awesome Tomato Sauce Recipe from SmittenKitchen.com

Notes: We received a grill pizza stone as a wedding gift; we used it in our oven and it worked great (though it made for an oddly shaped pizza; see above). I’d love to try a circular stone made for the oven and have the benefit of a peel next time around. As for toppings, Ali’s pie featured spicy Italian turkey sausage, caramelized onions and a sprinkling of basil ribbons. I studded my pizza with thin Roma tomato rounds, slivers of green pepper and shreds of basil. The pizza at the top of the page, from my sister’s recent visit home, starred Italian sausage from an incredible local Italian deli and mixed bell peppers.