Nibbling Along

Knitscene Summer

Yesterday Measure and I stopped by Purlescence, where I needed to pick up some needles (how is it that I have more than half a dozen 5mm Addis, but none of them are smaller than 32"?), and I found out that they'd already sold out of Knitscene Summer! Amazing, considering the magazine is not technically due out until the 19th of this month, but I guess a lot of shops got it in early and it has just flown out the door. I'm really proud to be part of this issue -- Knitscene just seems to go from strength to strength, and I particularly love how this issue was styled and shot. I can't wait until they start offering a subscription!

Here's one of my designs from the issue, the Loon Island Shawl (all images copyright Knitscene Summer 2011):

I actually have three designs in this issue, and I think it's funny to look at them side-by-side; you can see how much of a jack-of-all-trades I am as a designer. You know how some designers have a really coherent line? When you see something new from someone like Cookie A., or Stephen West, or Kim Hargreaves, you recognize it clearly as representing their particular aesthetic. I don't feel like I have that sort of distinctive aesthetic in my own work.

Here's another design, the Mie Pullover:

There are some common threads, I suppose -- I gravitate towards fairly simple stitches, and I try to make all of my designs "knitter-friendly." Since I have a toddler and can't devote a lot of intense focus to a project, at least not for any great length of time, I try to keep stitches easily memorizable, I try to make finishing fairly simple, and the overall design fairly intuitive. But I can do these things with cables, with lace, with texture stitches, with socks, with shawls, with pullovers, with hats...you get the idea. So I do.

Here's the Mayville Cardigan:

I suspect my lack of an obvious point of view makes me less marketable as a designer; it's certainly hard for me to conceive of what theme or element might unite a book-length collection of my designs. But to be honest, I'm not sure I care. Becoming a Super Famous Designer would be pretty sweet, but it's not really my goal. As long as I'm enjoying the process, and putting out work that (at least a few) other people enjoy too, then it's all good.

A Little Bit Corny

Jason and I found our "corn place" at the San Mateo farmer's market when we saw the stand with the long line in front of it. People at this farmer's market do seem to know their stuff -- there's always a queue of people trailing off into the parking lot, all waiting to make a purchase in front of the Crepe and Brioche Bakery truck, and I can affirm that it is worth the wait.

The corn guys sell both white and yellow, 50 cents an ear. I usually go for the white -- I think it's a little sweeter. Usually, the best thing to do with corn is very little -- Jason often roasts it in the husk at 375 degrees for 20-30 minutes, and it doesn't even need butter. These corn cakes, though, allow the corn flavor to shine through so well that it's worth the little bit of extra effort to make them. Also, it would be kind of hard to make a mini-sandwich with corn kernels, but with the corn cakes, you can do it: you have the technology.

My recipe evolved from one I found in the August 2007 issue of Sunset magazine. The corn cakes produced by the recipe as written were okay, but I thought they were a little on the eggy side and I didn't like the fact that it asked me to get the food processor and three bowls dirty to make a simple little corn cake. Also, using the food processor meant that the texture of the corn kernels was pretty well obliterated, and I thought that was just plain silly. My recipe uses only two bowls, and the kernels remain intact. All I had to do to get rid of the "eggy" overtones in the original was to simply stir in the whipped egg whites, rather than gently folding them. Again, this makes the cakes even simpler to make.

The photo above shows a pesto variation on the corn cakes -- yes, I know, I'm obsessed with pesto, and I'm comfortable with that. But basil goes really well with corn, and adding the pesto meant that these cakes paired perfectly with a slice of heirloom tomato and a little dollop of ricotta. A few of these little mini-sandwiches makes for a very tasty vegetarian entree, or you could serve the cakes (spread with a little butter, maybe?) as a side dish. As a starter, or trayed up for a cocktail party, you could top them with a wee bit of creme fraiche and caviar -- a nice variation on the classic blini. Heck, make larger cakes and serve them for breakfast, pancake-style, with maple syrup. What I'm trying to say is, these things are good and you should make them, soon. Recipe here.

Pet Peeves and Pasta

One of the things I think is most weird about learning to cook is that I started hearing otherwise intelligent, capable people telling me that they can't do what I do because it's "too hard." Pardon my language, but that's fucking ridiculous. (The same thing happens with knitting. In one of the Yarn Harlot's books, she mentions that she once met a neurosurgeon who thought knitting a sock looked "too hard.") Okay, there are some recipes which are complicated, or which requre lots of careful attention and still can be dicey (hollandaise sauce comes to mind), but for the most part, cooking is just a few basic, easy-to-learn skills, and if millions of illiterate, pre-internet peasants could do it, why the hell can't you?

Then there's the "I don't have time," comment, or it's sibling, "how do you have the time?" Sorry, but I don't really get that, either. Eating out takes time. Ordering takeout takes time. And since it costs more money than cooking at home, you are essentially handing over more time -- the time you spend making the money it takes to go out. Some people might actually not have time, but most people have time at least some of the time. If a wartime president can take well over a year's worth of vacation days in six years, you probably have time to toss together the occasional salad and a homemade vinaigrette.

Dishes, now I get that. Dishes suck. Doing dishes will always suck. But if you have a dishwasher, or even just a garbage disposal, don't expect much sympathy for me -- I don't have either, and Jason has never completely mastered the concept of not putting food in a sink that lacks a disposal. (He's 30 years old and a very, very bright man, but maybe to be a genious at math you need to compensate by being dumb at things like dishes. It's a theory.) I just try to be smart about dishes by making my pots and pans multitask when I make a meal, and in theory I try to do some dishes as I go along. Oh, and I really really like Mrs. Meyers lemon verbena dish soap -- it is the best dish soap ever, it smells fantastic, and it makes doing dishes slightly less sucky. Little things like that can help.

I can also understand if you just plain aren't interested in cooking. If you like non-homemade foods and cooking simply doesn't interest you, go on your merry way. Those of us living in first-world economies simply do not have to cook for ourselves, and increasingly, many of us are choosing not to. It's just the "it's too hard" and "I don't have time" that I think are cop-outs.

Anyway, this is my really roundabout way of saying that I made ricotta ravioli last night, and it was delicious. Making your own pasta is a ton of fun, so if you've never done so, I suggest you try it. If you liked playing with play-dough as a kid, you will probably take to it like a duck to water. My basic pasta-making tutorial is here, and the ricotta ravioli recipe is here.

A Good Marriage

When flavors come together in a dish, they are said to "marry." It's a fair enough term: if the flavors clash, nobody ends up happy, but if they work well together, it's a wonderful thing.

 I think this Italian bread salad (panzanella) is an example of a very happy marriage. The ingredients are fresh and seasonal, and the preparation is simple and rustic. My version uses a parsley pesto to bring everything together, and a surprising ingredient -- a little splash of orange juice -- to add a little bit of extra brightness. The whole point of panzanella is to use up a little stale bread by tossing it with tomatoes and whatever other ingredients are at hand, and allowing the bread to soak up the flavors. With cucumbers, mozarella, and black olives, this salad is hearty enough to be a light summer meal in itself. Recipe for the parsley pesto here, for the salad, here.

Rapini Sandwiches

This sandwich combines some of my favorite ingredients -- rapini, aged gouda, and heirloom tomatoes. Rapini is one of my favorite farmer's market finds: it's a heartier green than spinach, but it is not as bitter as many other hearty greens. To make four hearty sandwiches, you'll need two bunches of rapini (also called broccoli rabe), a block of aged gouda, one heirloom tomato per person (or one for every two people, if you've got the monster-sized tomatoes), and a loaf of your favorite crusty-but-not-too-crusty bread. Sourdough adds a nice tang, but whatever you love should be fine.

Recipe here.