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apricot and walnut vareniki

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You know, I had great plans for tonight.   As promised, I was going to tell you all about the recipe that didn’t make the cut for my   dumplings article on NPR. We’d talk about the history of vareniki, their texture, the process of making them and what a scandalously good meal it was when we had these apricot and walnut vareniki for dessert. But then, well, instead I went to the opening of a friend’s new gallery and like the eternal college student I am in the face of an open bar, I had several glasses of champagne and now here we are and eloquence, as well as grammar/sentence structure/coherent story telling escape me. Sad but true. So let me just cut to the chase of it, shall I? Alex, though technically Russian was actually born in the Ukraine, and Ukranians, you see, have their own version of dumplings, and I think they are fantastic. Varenyky (Ukrainian) or vareniki (Russian) are derived from the word varenyk, which simply means “boiled thing,” but prefer to thi...
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red velvet cake

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There are so many things I don’t get about red velvet cake: One, that despite all claims of acid plus baking soda reactions to the contrary, that a color created by food dye is considered so exciting. It could just as easily be blue, and oh,   it has been. The second thing I don’t get is that it is considered chocolate cake, when a good lot of the better-known recipes hover around one or two tablespoons of cocoa (and never over a half-cup), a barely distinguishable flavor distributed over a three-layer stack. The last thing I don’t get about red velvet cake is, if at least according to my husband, the frosting is the very best part, why that same vaunted cream cheese frosting couldn’t just be put on another cake, one with a distinguishable flavor and absence of egregious amounts of food dye. Obviously, I am way too analytical and quite probably, no fun at all. Nonetheless, I do know one thing well: People go ape shit over red velvet cake, and I aim to please. Thus, with ...
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spaghetti with chorizo and almonds

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I cooked dinner Wednesday night for the first time in over a week. I blame the   babka. Oh, and also the   red velvet cake, and since we’re pointing fingers, that   noodle kugel   is looking a little guilty too, isn’t it? And three-hour   tortillas? Busted as well. Here’s the thing with taking on more ambitious cooking projects: when I’m done, even the though of a quick dinner of salad and couscous seems outrageous. I mean, we just worked our way through a pile of dishes that could rival that of the diner on the corner after the leather bars let out, and now you suggest I chop some green onions? Are you mad? Bring on the baigan bharta! Eventually, however, I cave. I miss controlling what goes down our gullets. A recipe piques my interest, and in this case it was a chance to revisit fideos after   my last fairly disappointing experience. This beauty from the July Gourmet didn’t include the original combination that wowed me at The Little Owl, but ...
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