My perfect day would begin by waking up on my own, without an alarm to startle me. I like the feeling of opening my eyes and seeing some watery light beginning to creep into the room from underneath the bathroom door. I feel no panic. I am not late for the school bus, or getting people ready for the school bus. Luke the wonder dog is still chasing bunnies in his sleep. I dip a toe into the morning air, and slide into the day. In the sunny kitchen, Mr. Sanders and I open our laptops, and catch up on headlines and Instagram.

First, we do have to feed the wonder dog his bowl of kibble, and then he trots around the north forty, scouting squirrels and the neighbors’ feral cats. Then it is my turn for breakfast. I’d like to eat my own weight in warm, right-out-of-the-oven, buttery biscuits, with crisp rashers of bacon, and a bowl of fresh raspberries. My doctor prefers that I subsist on a meagre bowl of sticks and twigs, with skim milk. And so the day begins in earnest. I have checked off the first item on my daily list of Better Behavior for 2024. It’s already February, and I haven’t backslid yet. No cold pizza for breakfast. No sausage biscuits. No aromatic, flaky croissants with Irish butter and pots of French preserves. No pain au chocolat. No deliciously greasy bodega egg and cheese sandwiches. No secret cache of sugary Cap’n Crunch. Just boring old bran flakes. With a handful of delish raspberries, though. And then I go off to the Y for some quality treadmill time, before coming home for a day in the art mines.

Mr. Sanders is an altogether cheerier person in the morning. Maybe it is the coffee. I would hate to attribute it to his latest breakfast creation: Healthy Overnight Oats, made with rolled oats, Greek yogurt, milk, chia seeds, honey and fresh fruit. He also adds some powdered whey for an extra dose of protein.

Mr. Sanders’ Overnight Oats Recipe
1/2 cup rolled oats (don’t use steel-cut oats or instant oats)
1 tablespoon chia seeds
1/4 cup Greek yogurt (he uses vanilla)
1/2 cup milk (you can use nut milks, 2%, or even skim if you’d rather)
1 to 2 tablespoons honey (or maple syrup)
1 serving powdered whey protein powder

Mix all the ingredients in a bowl, separate into individual servings for breakfast portions. Annoy your partner. Feel smug. Be happy.

Overnight oats are a healthy trend, because of their rich fiber and protein content. Not too many Egg McMuffins can claim that! (Egg McMuffin info )

Every three or four days Mr. Sanders whips up another batch to tuck into the fridge overnight. He has a happy putter around the kitchen, parading his artisanal glass containers, while weighing and measuring the oats and seeds and powdered whey. (I am convinced that the chia seeds are freeze-dried frogs’ eggs, so I am not going to be eating this any time soon.) You might like this sweet way to start your 2024 mornings, and Mr. Sanders swears by it. He jazzes his concoction up with honey and blueberries, so do not think that he is eating penitential gruel in the mornings. It is a healthy and grown up way to have something sweet in the morning, something that is not Froot Loops.

Overnight oats are smart and convenient. It’s handy to have your breakfast sitting in the fridge, waiting for you every morning. The little chia seeds might amuse you as they slide down your gullet, bringing you healthy joy, and sunshine, and unicorns.

There are lots of variations on the theme, too. Our friends at Food52 have mastered overnight oats to the point where they do not need a recipe: Overnight Oats The folks at Bon Appétit have recently climbed onto the overnight oats bandwagon: Overnight Oats

Having breakfast waiting for you in the fridge each morning is a practical approach to the day’s vagaries. You can devote the rest of your energy to planning other activities. It’s almost time to start your spring garden, after all.

“‘When you wake up in the morning, Pooh,’ said Piglet at last, ‘what’s the first thing you say to yourself?’

‘What’s for breakfast?’ said Pooh. ‘What do you say, Piglet?’

‘I say, I wonder what’s going to happen exciting today?’ said Piglet.

Pooh nodded thoughtfully. ‘It’s the same thing,’ he said.”
― A.A. Milne

A single serving sounds sad and lonely; shunned by society, eyes averted. Imagine being a single diner in a restaurant, with only a book or newspaper for company; no conversation, no wry observations made with meaningful sidelong looks. Awkward. Prone to second martinis.

A single serving doesn’t have to evoke lamentable images of singleton Lean Cuisine packages tossed bravely into grocery carts à la Mary Tyler Moore. It can be just what we want – self indulgent, the perfect size, made-to-measure, customized, bespoke.

Last weekend, after an afternoon of intense chili cooking, I was tuckered out, and craved a little sweet, an effort driven reward. I did not have the stamina to haul the KitchenAid mixer off its shelf to make a whole batch of four dozen chocolate chip cookies, which would require 4 cookie sheets, many ingredients, and lots more time on my feet in the kitchen. But I could pull myself together long enough to mix up a bowl with a few tablespoons of flour, sugar, butter and mini chocolate chips. Thank heavens for this fortuitous recipe in The Washington Post! Single-Serving Chocolate Chip Cookies

Single-Serving Chocolate Chip Cookies

1 tablespoon unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
1 tablespoon light brown sugar
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons milk
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour, plus more as needed
Pinch baking powder
Pinch baking soda
Pinch fine salt
2 tablespoons roughly chopped dark chocolate (We had some leftover mini chocolate chips which were just perfect)
Flaky sea salt, for sprinkling (Maldon salt is perfect)

(I added 1/4 teaspoon of vanilla extract, because my mother would have insisted, and she would have been right)

Position a rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 350ºF. (Hindsight being 20/20, I would say that you can wait until you pop the prepared dough into the freezer before pre-heating the oven – saving the planet begins at home.) Line a baking sheet with parchment paper – I used a cute one eighth sheet pan for a pleasing dollhouse effect.

In a small bowl, combine the butter, light brown sugar and granulated sugar and stir until combined. Add the milk and mix until creamy. Then add the flour, baking powder, baking soda and fine salt and mix until a soft but not sticky dough forms. Add the chocolate chips and stir to combine. If needed, mix in a little extra flour, 1 teaspoon at a time, adding just enough to make the dough lose its stickiness but not become stiff.

Shape the dough into a ball and place on the prepared cookie sheet. If you prefer a thick and chewy cookie, pop the pan into the freezer to chill for 5 to 10 minutes. Bake for 16 to 20 minutes, or until golden around the edges and a little paler in the center. If you have chilled the dough, you may need the higher end of the time range. Sprinkle with the flaky salt, if using, and let cool on the pan.

I felt guilty baking just one cookie, considering Mr. Sanders’s well-known sweet tooth, so I doubled this recipe, and from it we each had one cookie. Because I had chilled the dough for 10 minutes, the cookie had spread out just a bit. Not thick and leaden like a giant mall cookie. The Maldon salt on top made it salty and sweet – the perfect indulgence. Treat yourself.

And if you have a yen for more chocolate, try these: Single-serving Brownies

“One of the secrets of a happy life is continuous small treats.”
– Iris Murdoch

It is a good thing that we got organized last week! Who knew that the weather was finally going to change and become winter? That we were going to spend so much time in the kitchen, cooking to stay warm? And now many of the annoying Tupperware and Rubbermaid containers are now full with a bounty of warming and comforting foods. We are veritable boy scouts: prepared! Bring on the chilly snow days!

I was so happy the other night; all I had to do was root around in the fridge for a few minutes, to tug out a color coordinated Rubbermaid container of fresh, homemade chili, a chunk of cornbread, and a bag o’salad. Over the weekend Mr. Sanders and I had cooked and baked in tandem, in perfect harmony, which is amazing, considering the size of our kitchen.

I made a batch of chili, based on a recipe from Weeknight Chili in Food52, which in turn, is based on an America’s Test Kitchen’s chili recipe. Mr. Sanders baked chocolate biscotti, from a New York Times recipe. While I chopped and minced, browned and simmered, he weighed and measured, sifted and rolled. We made dinner for Sunday night, Wednesday night, with enough leftover for chili dogs for Thursday lunch. (We have also discovered the delights of chocolate biscotti for dessert after an abstemious breakfast of sticks and twigs. Yumsters!)

Sunday Afternoon Chili – No Beans

1 sweet onion, chopped
1 red or green bell pepper, chopped (don’t use seeds or pith)
Salt (I used a new, fancy French salt, Carmargue Fleur de Sel, just for kicks – Diamond Crystal is fine!)
4 tablespoons chili powder
4 teaspoons ground cumin
1 teaspoon cayenne (because we like spicy, you might want to modulate)
4 tablespoons tomato paste
6 garlic cloves, minced (because we really like garlic)
2 pounds ground beef
Go ahead and add beans, if you must
1 1/2 cups chicken stock
1 1/2 cups beef stock
15 ounces can crushed tomatoes or tomato sauce
Grated cheddar cheese, chopped cilantro, chopped green onion

Brown the meat in a Dutch oven, or in a large pot with a cover. Break up the meat with spoon, and cook until almost brown. Drain the fat. Add chopped onions and peppers and garlic. Season with a pinch of salt and add the chili powder, cumin, and cayenne. Cook, stirring every so often, until the vegetables are soft, 5 to 7 minutes. Add the tomato paste, and stir. Reduce heat to low. Add the crushed tomatoes or tomato sauce. Cook and stir for a few minutes. Then add the stocks and cook on low, covered, stirring occasionally, until the chili has thickened, about 60 minutes. I was worried that it would never thicken, but it did. Eventually. I let it cook uncovered for another half hour. The flavor deepened with all the simmering and the chicken and beef stocks. This was much better tasting chili than the Wick Fowler’s Chili 2 Alarm Kit (my old school night stand by) ever produced. And without chemicals, preservatives or thickening masa flour! It helps to sit at the kitchen counter with a book. (This week I am reading Prairie Fires, by Caroline Fraser.)

Serve topped with grated cheese, cilantro, radishes or green onions. Fritos are a delight, too. We made corn bread and had small green salads. It’s still Dry January around here, so it was Diet Coke for me and a tall lemonade for Mr. Sanders. Luke the wonder dog waited patiently. He is fond of sweet, buttery corn bread crumbs.

These biscotti take all afternoon, too. There is no rushing the progress, unless you want to go to the store for Stella D’oro Biscotti. This is an excellent way to spend a dark, wintery afternoon, sampling chocolate chips and licking the extra chocolate-y batter off the electric beaters. You won’t regret the time spent in the warm kitchen. Union Square Café’s Chocolate Biscotti

Welcome, winter!

“The true way to live is to enjoy every moment as it passes, and surely it is in the everyday things around us that the beauty of life lies.”
― Laura Ingalls Wilder

The inside of the Spy Test Kitchen’s refrigerator is not a pretty sight – but it will be soon. We started 2024 with such promise. We were going to keep fruits in one drawer, vegetables in another drawer, with a bin for breads, and another bin for cheeses. Deli turkey and leftover meatloaf were to have their own drawer, along with the stick of pepperoni for Friday night pizza. The condiments should have been nestled all snug in their own bins on the door, with containers of 2% milk and half and half just below.

Instead, the mustard is filed away with some beer on a door, the bag o’salad is tucked in a drawer with the Boar’s Head Lower-Salt turkey slices, the peppers are rolling around with the apples, and last night’s leftover sausage and peppers has the pride of place, in a crumpled Baggie, on the top shelf, just at my eye level, where I tossed it last night. Plainly, there is no order here. I have never been a fan of new year’s resolutions, so thank goodness I am taking up this cudgel mid-week, mid-way through January. There will be tidiness. Eventually.

For a raft of reasons we had to buy a new fridge recently, and we are still getting to know its wily ways. We have been unlucky and flooded out by refrigerators with ice makers and water dispensers in the door, so this new one merely dispenses ice into a bin in the freezer, which is a huge improvement over the old, crotchety, leaky ice maker. (Except for the day a few months ago when Mr. Sanders accidentally dropped an open bag of Tater Tots into the ice cubes. I still think of that day, when I suck a bit of Tot up a straw with a mouthful of nice, cold fresh Diet Coke. But I digress.) It is a brand new, shiny refrigerator. The contents of the fridge should know where to go, naturally.

I laughed about an article about life in New York City recently. In New York City you can pay someone $150 per hour to come organize your life. There is a 2-hour minimum consulting fee, first of all, as the professional organizer assesses your pathetic, discombobulated way of living. If I could afford it, I could have a pro come in an reorganize my entire life! They could Marie Kondo-ize my sock drawer, my winter wardrobe of turtlenecks, sweaters and yoga pants, sort through my bottles of watercolors, and tidy up my tray of brushes. The garage would be spider-free, with the tools sorted by handle length and season. The front hall closet would have his and hers sections for winter coats and rain coats, and a shelf for artisanally crafted baskets for gloves, hats and dog poop bags. In the pantry, the boxes of stale Triscuits would be curated into designer-favored lucite containers. All sell-by dates on the artichoke hearts and canned goods would be boldly marked, in calligraphy, with Sharpies. And the books! The books would be organized by subject, and then alphabetically by author, except for the stack by my side of the bed, in which there are three I am reading, one I am considering reading, and the one I should be reading but have managed to dodge so far. Oh, then there is the linen closet, my shoebox of receipts for taxes, and the kitchen drawers – not every aspiring drawer can be a junk drawer.

Obviously the idea of hiring a professional organizer to come into our home is as much a pipe dream as living a luxurious life in Manhattan would be. I can’t afford such foolishness, and anyway, I wouldn’t want anyone rummaging in my fridge or my books. The idea of organizing our whole house is daunting. I procrastinate and I avoid major undertakings. Weak-willed, I wander through Instagram and YouTube, looking for help and inspiration. I also read other peoples’ New Year Resolution lists. And as much as I scoff, there are some admirable gems to be gleaned from these sources.

Baby steps! The Guardian had an enormous list of New Year’s Resolutions which was daunting. Transform Your Life I particularly like 28: “Doing a timed 10-minute tidy with my partner and kids every day. This has improved the cleanliness of the house significantly. Untidiness no longer drags down the mood. It also means we don’t need to do lengthy chores at the weekend.” I think I can manage a 10-minute tidying up every day. 10 minutes of attention to the refrigerator and its contents every few days would be enormous. 10 minutes on my sock drawer might be overkill.

Re-think how to store food in your fridge. Everything we have learned about storing food is counter-intuitive to using up every bit of our food so we don’t waste it, or the efforts of the farmers who toiled to bring us our sustenance. When I open the fridge, I don’t see all those good vegetables and fruits – they are tucked away in dark, out-of-sight-out-of-mind drawers. I see the jar of mayonnaise that isn’t going to go bad overnight. I need to see those carrots and radishes that will make a tasty little schmakeral of a snack. I need to be reminded that that asparagus would make a nice addition to dinner tonight. Fruits and vegetables, front and center! Jiaying Zhoa had great idea about eating more plants; I wish it was mine. How to Feng Shui Your Fridge

The Washington Post has a practical way for you to eat more plants, and to make yourself happier and healthier: Refrigerator Hack Our new fridge is about to be transformed!

Welcome to 2024! Introduce changes gradually. Stand on one foot while you brush your teeth – 2 minutes a day to better balance. Walk a little farther every day. Smile at a stranger. Take 10 minutes to tidy a corner or a fridge. Eat more fruits and vegetables. Make frittatas to use up bits of cheese and veggies. Be happy.

“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien

Ah, all those New Year’s resolutions are relentless. Who knew we were so lazy, so fat, or such wastrels? Or that self-improvement could feel so dogged? The parking lot at the Y has been extra crowded this week, as everyone in bright, brand spanking new sneakers eagerly packs into the morning Jazzercise group or self-consciously trots on the treadmill. For once, I am part of the in-crowd: I’ve met my 10,000 steps goal for the past five days. I’ve also eschewed cheap white wine, sigh. And I am being more careful about what I eat – which is easy considering what a sybaritic life we briefly led over the holidays: French 75s, sparkling wine, peppermint bark, Chex mix, shortbread drizzled with ganache, cakes, roasted turkey, spaghetti Bolognese, beef tenderloin, bacon, Béarnaise sauce, brandy butter – and that is just the beginning of the alphabet of delicious calorie-laden holiday treats. Perhaps New Year’s resolutions are just pressing the reset button. Sticks and twigs in 2024?

We roasted a turkey one night during the holidays, as one does. It really is almost as simple as roasting a chicken, it just presents dramatically. There was more help in the kitchen than we normally have. There were helpful hands to baste the bird every half hour, and even more to peel a mountain of potatoes. I watched helplessly as we ended up with a 5-pound bag peeled, cooked and mashed. For four people (and one clueless, yet ever-hopeful, dog). You could see that bowl of mashed potatoes from outer space: there were more potatoes than we could possibly eat in one sitting. And yet, we tried mightily, piling our plates high with that buttery, starchy goodness that first night; candles lit, wine decanted, napkins in laps. They warmed us later as we sat by the fire, glowing with wine and bonhomie.

Then we ate potatoes with leftover turkey sandwiches for lunch. We ate more repurposed as potato pancakes, with eggs and sausage balls, for breakfast. And like Strega Nona’s pasta pot, we still had more potatoes. After our company departed we confronted the refrigerator, packed with leftovers: a motley assortment of Tupperware, Saran-wrapped bowls, Baggies, aluminum foil packets and that towering bowl of mashed potatoes. We turned to the internet, which led us to Shepherd’s Pie, which is what we call Cottage Pie, because we use ground beef. (You might want to be more authentic and use ground lamb.) And we made a large Shepherd’s Pie. Too large for two people. But it was perfectly suited to this season of New Year’s resolutions: it used up the last bit of potato. We could check “Thrifty” off on our list of New Year’s virtues, because we hadn’t wasted any potatoes, and managed to get three more meals out of that original batch. And now I would like a nice green, leafy salad. Dressing on the side, please.

Here is the recipe for the original batch of mashed potatoes. I think you can safely name it, just like you named your sour dough starter during COVID, as it might be around for a couple of weeks. Milk Simmered Mashed Potatoes

This is the recipe I used for our Shepherd’s Pie, but there are plenty out there floating around cyberspace, even vegetarian versions: Shepherd’s Pie

Vegetarian Shepherd’s Pie

Guinness even makes a Shepherd’s Pie mix, that you can keep in with your spices, in case you ever find yourself, like us, with an embarrassment of mashed potatoes: Guinness Shepherd’s Pie Mix

Go easy on yourself with all your good New Year intentions. Slow and steady, with a side of potatoes.

“During all this, Mary had been extracting eyes from potatoes with such energy that they had been flying around the kitchen like hailstones. At this moment, one hit me in the eye and caused a momentary pause in the conversation.”
― Agatha Christie

This is an updated version of the column I wrote last year for New Year’s Eve. Happy New Year, Gentle Readers!   

This New Year’s Eve I will be sitting companionably on the sofa with Mr. Sanders. We entertained young folks over Christmas, and all the holiday cooking and merriment has exhausted us. We were very, very merry. That said, we haven’t stayed awake until midnight on New Year’s Eve in years, let alone gone to a party that involved conversation, panty hose or staying up late. Usually, and in the COVID times, we two have an intimate supper of simple nibbles with candlelight, and a glass or two of fizz before we collapse on that sofa and find a movie we can both enjoy, before one of us falls asleep.

Prosecco or Champagne? It’s a personal choice. I prefer the economy of Prosecco, because the quality of the pricey, tinier, French bubbles in Champagne no longer strikes me as crucial. I’ll be asleep before 10, with either French or domestic wine. Which kind of cool, sparkling wine we guzzle while toasting a festive New Year’s Eve is not important.

2023 was been a year full of dark clouds. Let’s move briskly on to 2024: perfect in every way, as we project our hopes and expectations on it – brand new, fresh, crisp, and as yet, unmarred.

This year we will ring in the new year with the best of intentions: to be economical, resourceful, and clever with our use of leftovers. We will promise to compost and recycle more, waste less food; eat more plants, and less red meat. We pledge to grow something more nutritious than one crop of costly tomatoes, and we will patronize the farmers’ markets. We will walk more, and will be good volunteers. We will resolve to read more books and spend less time on our screens. We will try to be kind.

In the meantime, it is Friday night, and it has been a long week. It’s the last time to indulge in 2023. Instead pouring a glass of my usual cheap winter Malbec, I thought I should test some seasonal, perhaps New Year’s Eve-ish cocktail recipes, to get back into the holiday spirit. These are crowd pleasers, but they require a little planning.

“The feeling of friendship is like that of being comfortably filled with roast beef; love is like being enlivened with Champagne.”

– Samuel Johnson

My Favorite French 75s
“Hits with remarkable precision.”
-Harry Craddock, “The Savoy Cocktail Book”

2 ounces gin
1 ounce lemon juice
1 spoonful extra fine sugar
Champagne

Shake the gin, lemon juice and sugar in a cocktail shaker filled with cracked ice until chilled and well-mixed and then pour into tall glass containing cracked ice and fill up the glass with Champagne. This clever cocktail was said to have been devised during WWI, the kick from the alcohol combo being described as powerful as the French 75mm howitzer gun.

“Meeting Franklin Roosevelt was like opening your first bottle of Champagne; knowing him was like drinking it.”

-Winston Churchill

Champagne Cocktail

In a Champagne glass add a teaspoon of sugar and enough Angostura bitters to melt the sugar.
Add a tablespoon of Grand Marnier or cognac and mix in with the sugar, bitters mix.
Add a “fine” quality Champagne and stir.
Float a slice of thin orange on top.
This is what Ilsa and Victor Laszlo sipped in Casablanca.

“Too much of anything is bad, but too much Champagne is just right.”
-Mark Twain

As always, our party hearty friends at Food52 have some delightful ideas for nibbles to help soak up some of the bubbly we are sure to be drinking on New Year’s Eve.
9 Bites to Go with Your Bubbly

This is very pretty, and so seasonal:
Pomegranate Mimosas. Yumsters.

“My only regret in life is that I didn’t drink enough Champagne”
-John Maynard Keynes

And the best of both worlds: a Black Velvet!
Champagne and Guinness. This drink is simply equal parts stout and sparkling wine, and to be honest, there are some who will never understand its appeal. But to fans, this is a perfect special-occasion drink, particularly suited to mornings and late afternoons.

Black Velvet
4 ounces (1/2 cup) chilled Champagne or Prosecco
4 ounces (1/2 cup) chilled Guinness Extra Stout

Pour the Champagne into a tall glass. This is not an effete drink. It is robust, and fills your hand with determination. Be sure to pour the Guinness on top. (This is important: Guinness is heavier. If you pour the sparkling wine second, it won’t combine evenly, and will need to be stirred. I shudder at the thought!)

Enjoy yourself this weekend. Happy New Year! Find a good movie. Let the games begin, again, on Tuesday.

“Isn’t it amazing… how a full bottle of wine isn’t enough for two people any more?”
–John Updike

Welcome to the messy and cozy world of holiday cooking. We are getting ready for Christmas and an unaccustomed houseful of folks. I hope they are hungry.

On this chilly day the toasty warm Spy Test Kitchens are littered with a colorful mix of containers of broth, cans of tomatoes, cans of beans, oranges, cloves, a fragrant chunk of Parmigiano Reggiano cheese, a sack of all-purpose flour, a bag of white sugar, cutting boards, kitchen shears, ladles, and a melon baller. Currently in use: a Dutch oven, a frying pan, the oven, and a cheese grater. I do not know how I will react if I hear Mariah Carey belting out “All I Want for Christmas” one more time today.

Yesterday I made a batch of sausage balls, planning for Christmas morning, because we will all have better things to unwrap and play with Monday morning. This way no one needs to steal away to the kitchen to make breakfast. Just coffee.

Later this afternoon I will also be prepping a batch of brioche cinnamon rolls, for the sweeter-toothed among us. I’ll be mixing up the dough, rolling and cutting it, and then stashing it away in the freezer, which is burgeoning with hopes and fears. On Sunday night I’ve got to remember to take the dough out and tuck it away in a warm corner to rise overnight.

Mr. Sanders is methodically plowing through an old print version of Epicurious magazine as he plans dinners for Saturday and Monday nights. The magazine is festooned with multi-colored and festive Post-Its. There also his legal pad, filled with lists, which he keeps checking. Now he is weighing and measuring tomatoes, carrots, ground beef, Italian sausage meat, while reducing liquids, stirring, tasting and improvising. He has built an impressive stack of cans of San Marzano tomatoes which will become, as the afternoon wears on, an Italian Wedding Soup.

We have some Christmas traditions food-wise. Most of our traditions come from our favorite cookbooks and a pile of vintage Gourmet, Epicurious, New York Times Sunday magazines. (Print lives on in our house.)

New this year: Italian Wedding Soup
Epicurious Italy, September 2014

Reliable Eggnog
From Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything

Makes 4 servings
Time: 10 minutes
3 eggs, separated
2 tablespoons sugar, or to taste
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
3 cups milk or half-and-half
1/2 cup rum (optional), or more if desired
Freshly grated nutmeg to taste
1. Beat the egg yolks with the sugar until well blended. Stir in the vanilla, the milk or half-and-half, and rum if desired.
2. Beat the egg whites and fold them in thoroughly. (You need not be too gentle; they should lighten the drink but not be discernible.)
Top with freshly grated nutmeg and serve.

Christmas Breakfast Frittata

From The Joy of Cooking

Serves 6 hungry people
Preheat the oven to 375 °F.
Heat a large skillet over medium heat and add:
3 to 5 slices bacon, cut into 1/4-inch wide strips (or, use sausage, ham, Canadian bacon, etc.–with cured meats such as ham, there is no need to sauté)
Sauté until the fat has rendered and the bacon is crispy.
Remove the bacon to a paper towel-lined plate.
Drain off all but 2 tablespoons bacon fat and add to the skillet:
1 small onion, finely chopped (or a few minced shallots, or green onions, etc.)
Sauté until translucent.
Add and sauté until fragrant, about 2 minutes:
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves
1 teaspoon fresh oregano, minced
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes

Remove from the heat and add salt and pepper to taste.
In a large bowl, combine:
12 eggs
3/4 cup whole milk, buttermilk, or half-and-half
Cheese, in some form, in whatever quantity you prefer (I used leftover cheese bits to equal about 1/2 cup)

• Combine the vegetable mixture and the egg mixture and pour into a greased 9 X 13-inch pan.
• Bake until set, about 30 minutes.
• Turn on the broiler and broil until nicely browned and slightly puffy on top, about 5 minutes.

Frittata

Our Sausage Ball recipe comes from Paula Deen: Forget about the dip, though. We just eat them plain, and you should, too.

Christmas Dessert

Flourless Chocolate Cake

From Lee Bailey’s Country Desserts

5 ounces bittersweet chocolate
3 ounces unsweetened chocolate
1 stick of butter, softened
5 large eggs, separated
2/3 cup sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons of pure vanilla extract
Pinch of salt
Preheat the oven to 350°F.
Line a springform pan with parchment paper – it is never pretty. Like hospital corners on the bed, I can never do this tidily.

• Melt the chocolate and butter together in a pan, over a low heat, stirring to blend. Be careful not to rush this process! Set aside to cool.
• Beat the egg yolks with the sugar until thick and pale yellow in color. This can take up to 5 or 6 minutes. Add the vanilla.
• Clean the beaters, and now whip the egg white with the salt until they are stiff.
• Fold the chocolate mixture into the yolks, then fold in about one third of the egg white, mix gently. Then fold in the rest of the whites, mixing until there are no more white streaks.
• Pour the mixture into the springform pan and bake for about 35 to 45 minutes, test with a toothpick to be sure cake is done. The cake will rise gloriously while baking, and suddenly crash and collapse when you take it out of the oven. Do not worry about this! It will be deliciously and deliriously luscious.
• Cool the cake for about 10 or 15 minutes and then remove the side of the pan. Flip the cake onto a cooling rack. Remove the bottom of the pan and the parchment. Let it cool completely before adding the glaze.

You cannot change one speck of this magic chocolate glaze! I have been using this glaze since 1989. The cookbook always falls open to this page, which is also the glaze I use for Flourless Chocolate Cake. It is covered with crumbs and splatters from the festivities from the last 34 years.

3 ounces semisweet chocolate
3 ounces unsalted butter, softened
1 tablespoon brandy or bourbon
Melt the chocolate and butter together over a low heat, stirring until smooth. Stir in the brandy. Pour over the top of the cooled cake, smoothing with a spatula, and let it drip down the sides.

Merry Christmas from the Spy Test Kitchen Elves!

“There is nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child. … Time, self-pity, apathy, bitterness, and exhaustion can take the Christmas out of the child, but you cannot take the child out of Christmas.”
-Erma Bombeck

Chances are that we’ll be entertaining folks this year instead of anxiously eyeing one another. We aren’t quite so worried about COVID, which is a relief, plus Mr. Sanders and I got the latest vaccine last week. My arm is still sore, though, as I think about the next few weeks, wondering what goodies I should be squirreling away, in preparation for the holidays. I’m looking forward to a couple of friendly get-togethers, when we can share a little food and wine with folks we haven’t talked with, except over for over-the-fence chats, for ages.

The Washington Post had an amusing article about a contest in the UK this week: the winner takes home a turkey-sized Swedish meatball from IKEA. The mind boggles at the thought of a 10-pound meatball. I wish we could enter the contest! The Post thoughtfully included the recipe for homemade Swedish meatballs that IKEA supplied to its biggest fans of the tasty dish, which they were unable to enjoy in situ during the pandemic lockdown. IKEA Swedish Meatballs I’m going to make a batch. I think having a Rubbermaid container of meatballs in the freezer will be an excellent idea. I love being prepared. Enjoy! IKEA Meatball

We have neighbors who might stop by for drinks during the holiday season. He is a genial, chatty fellow, who enjoys his riding mower; she is vegan, and eschews gluten and sugar and loves decorating for Halloween. Luckily, she does drink. We’ll give her a glass of fizz and a bowl of wholesome sticks and twigs, and he’ll Hoover up some beers and the homemade Chex Mix (from a super-secret family recipe), iced Christmas sugar cookies, and now, some of those homemade IKEA meatballs.

Chex Mix

INGREDIENTS – a mere guideline of suggestions
3 cups Corn Chex™ cereal
3 cups Rice Chex™ cereal
3 cups Wheat Chex™ cereal
1 cup mixed nuts
1 cup bite-size pretzels
6 tablespoons butter or margarine
2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
1 1/2 teaspoons seasoned salt
3/4 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
Pre-heat oven to 250°F. Put cereal and seasoning mixture into ungreased roasting pan and bake for 1 hour, stirring every 15 minutes. Spread on paper towels to cool, about 15 minutes.

Our Substitutions: we use 1 whole stick of butter goodness. We do not stick to the standard Chex ingredients, instead we use 2 cups of peanuts, 2 cups of thin pretzel sticks, 2 cups of Bugles (which are the best addition EVER), 3 cups of Honey Nut Chex or Cheerios and 2 cups of Goldfish. Also we use a lot of Lawry’s Seasoning Salt. You might like to add some Old Bay seasoning. Deelish!

Other neighbors who might wander over don’t drink, but do love homemade sweets. Out will come the Annual-Never-Fail-Christmas-Fudge I make to the delight of our dentist, the letter carrier and our favorite UPS delivery guys. This is also a super-secret family recipe: Christmas Fudge

If you stop by at cocktail hour any other time of the year you would lucky if I managed to find a box of fresh Triscuits in the pantry, a block of cheddar cheese, and some pepperoni in the fridge. Around Christmas, though, I try to be more pro-active, and warehouse a decent stock of nibbles: olives, almonds, walnuts, pecans, fancy Pepperidge Farm crackers, nice, runny, fragrant cheeses, grapes, apricots, grainy mustards, and charcuterie-type meats: salami, speck, prosciutto, and, of course, pepperoni. Spare me the precious charcuterie board, however. I have tiny china plates and little silver bowls, with spoons, that come out but once a year, and I am determined to use them. If you call ahead, I will even iron some pretentious linen cocktail napkins for you.

I like a warm nibble or two at a cocktail soirée, don’t you? I especially love brushing exploded puff-pastry off the front of my hostess-y outfit. Our son and his wife will be here for a few days, so we will have to have a stash of nostalgic pigs-in-blankets, some of those IKEA meatballs, bruschetta, and warm ham biscuits. Nothing fancy, just foods that can be scarfed down in an instant, and will delight Luke the wonder dog when bits fall to the floor. It’s Christmas for the dog, too.

Pigs in Blankets

Bruschetta:
Cut a baguette into slices (I like cutting the bread a diagonal)
Toast the slices under the broiler until golden brown
Allow slices to cool
Rub each slice with a big chunk o’garlic
Drizzle each slice with olive oil
Scatter a few basil leaves on the toasted, oiled and garlicky bread
Chop up a couple of the nice fat heirloom tomatoes
Scatter the tomatoes over the basil
Top with crumbled feta cheese
Pop the bread back under the broiler until the cheese sizzles
Voilа!

Fancy Ham Biscuits

Go get your COVID shot so you have something to complain about while you finally decorate your Christmas tree. And then start to enjoy yourself. Even if no one is coming over, have a handful of Chex Mix and a bowl of cheer. Give an angel some wings.

“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.”
― Edith Sitwell

Sweets to the sweet. Other food sites are touting the Puritan virtues of warm, homemade soup this week. The Washington Post is pushing ruffage and turnips, for heaven’s sake. Not us. The Spy is all about embracing culture and joy; food and warmth. This week is the perfect time to celebrate Hanukkah with some delicious homemade doughnuts.

Every fall I try to make earnest cider doughnuts; to briskly turn the page on summer and embrace the autumnal – basically I pretend that I have just picked apples and returned home from a hay ride. Which is nonsense. I once picked crabapples in the Hammett’s back yard on Leonard Street, which I promptly ate, and I have never once gone on a hay ride. What I do remember is sleeping over at Sheila’s house in middle school, and her saintly father trudging out for fresh doughnuts for us girls on Sunday mornings. He brought back boxes of freshly glazed doughnuts, crunchy with sheets of sugar. And cloud-like jelly doughnuts, adrift with billows of confectioners sugar. Ah, bliss.

What are ritual foods if they don’t make us time travel to happy moments? Much has been written about the chic and delicate French Madeleines, but what about the humble jelly doughnut? Every one of us who has ever eaten a jelly doughnut can remember oozed jelly on our shirtfronts – not exactly transformational. Jelly doughnuts are the cosmic pratfall of sweets compared to the Madeleine – not the stuff of French literature. The Madeleine moment, as evoked by the taste of a delicate cake-like cookie, is fleeting. Jelly doughnuts bring to mind an entire holiday. It is a raucous family celebration. Jelly doughnuts cover us with joy.

During the Civil War the ladies of Augusta, Maine sent soldiers of the Third Volunteer Regiment off to war with a feast of fifty bushels of doughnuts, as was breathlessly reported: “Never before was such an aggregate of doughnuts since the world began. … The display of doughnuts beggared description. There was the molasses doughnut and the sugar doughnut – the long doughnut and the short doughnut – the round doughnut and the square doughnut … the straight solid doughnut and the circular doughnut, with a hole in the centre. … It was emphatically a feast of doughnuts, if not a flow of soul.”

Fried dough has been around forever. Every culture has experimented with shapes and flavors and methodology. Doughnuts arrived in New Amsterdam in the form of “oily cakes”, courtesy of the Dutch settlers. Later, a ship captain’s mother made deep-fried dough cakes, which could be stored for a long voyages, and she flavored them with cinnamon, lemon rind and nutmeg. She added nuts to the center of the cakes, dough nuts. Her son, the sea captain, claimed to have invented the doughnut hole; they were a busy, innovative pair. Today, in the United States alone, about 10 billion doughnuts are made every year. Wowser.

Here is an amusing video about fried dough and doughnuts: Doughnut History

Popular traditional foods for Hanukkah are brisket, latkes, kugel and jelly doughnuts, or sufganiyot. The doughnuts help us to remember the miracle of the oil that burned miraculously for eight nights. Today, Hanukkah celebrations feature both commercial and homemade jelly doughnuts — tributes to that single cruse of oil that lasted eight days. What a miracle!

Give me a good store-bought doughnut. I love watching doughnuts being made, don’t you? There is comfort in driving through a town and seeing a HOT NOW light on in a store front window. But I can’t serve Krispy Kreme doughnuts for the holidays. I can only scarf them down on road trips. Luckily, once again, I have fallen in love with fantastic Instagram reel and will be making my own: Homemade Jelly Doughnuts I hope you do, too!

Happy Hanukkah!

“Donuts! Is there anything they can’t do?”
–Homer Simpson