July 13, 2014 - 4 comments
This woman of mine, she is rock. freaking. solid.
People overuse that phrase “He’s a rock” or “She’s my rock” but I promise you I am employing it perfectly in this case. That Jill Carroll, she is steady as they come. Dependable. Honest. True. Damn near unflappable.
Sometimes I think she’s an alien. Like, how can it be possible for a human being to operate this way, with such integrity? In everything she does—really, I have been watching her for a dozen years now and she astounds me more and more.
Right now, Jill is knee-deep with the work of moving her parents to a house less than two miles from ours. (If you’ve been playing along for a while, you’ve probably realized that this means that Jill’s parents will be living just down the road from my mother…pray for us & send wine, pleaseandthankyou.)
This has been no ordinary move. My in-laws are 91 and 81, respectively, and have lived in Shreveport for their entire adults lives, and had been in the house they just left for almost 30 years. And they probably would have stayed there had my mother-in-law not developed Alzheimer’s, which has robbed her of herself in the worst possible ways. My father-in-law is tired and unable to meet the demands of caring for a confused and addled spouse, and keeping up with a household besides.
So here we are. After months of resistance, Jill’s father finally relented to the idea of moving, and from there everything happened fast—house selling, house buying, house packing. Jill has handled every detail, from contracting movers to fixing refrigerator tubing to wrapping every dang figurine and piece of china in bubble wrap. And she still manages, somehow, to be this incredibly joyful parent and loving spouse and working woman and well-informed intellectual and patient, patient daughter.
I’m proud of this woman, proud of being partnered with her, proud to witness the way she lives our her values even (especially) when it’s inconvenient and exhausting. She teaches me so much by living, as all the best people do.
ROBERTA’S GREEN & WHITE PIZZA
This is Jill’s new favorite thing that I make; she’s requested it half-a-dozen times since spotting the recipe on the New York Times website. I’ve started making the accompanying pizza dough recipe as my standard; measuring the ingredients by weight really does yield a more consistently good dough. For the topping, we use the spicy arugula we’ve got growing in the backyard (Another thing Jill manages to do—keep our garden growing. Sheesh. JILL, STOP BEING GOOD AT EVERYTHING.). The heat of the arugula mellows a bit when it meets the hot pizza, but it still retains a lovely bite, tempered just enough by the cheesy pizza & crust.
The original recipe calls for you to top the dough with cheese before you put it in the oven, which I think would work fine if your oven gets really hot, but mine tops out at 500° F, so I find it works better to pre-cook the dough first, in order to get the bottom nice and crisp. Also, while I love fresh mozzarella for eating raw, I find that it gets kind of watery when I cook it on pizza, so I prefer the shredded kind.
pizza dough of your choice, stretched/rolled into a 10-12 inch round
~ 1 cup shredded mozzarella
~¼ cup shredded/grated Parmesan
extra-virgin olive oil
2-3 cups baby arugula
If you have a pizza stone, put it on the middle rack of your oven and turn the heat to the highest setting. Let it heat for at least an hour.
Prick the dough all over with a fork before sliding it onto the pizza stone. Cook for approximately 5 minutes, or until you see browning around the edges. Slide the dough back out, drizzle lightly with olive oil, and top with cheese. Gently slide the pie back into the oven and cook for another 4-6 minutes until the cheese has fully melted. (At this point, I usually turn on the broiler to brown the top of the pizza, and get good color on the crust—you may not need to do so, depending on how your oven heats.)
While the pizza cooks, dress the arugula lightly using the zest & juice of half the lemon, a good drizzle of the olive oil, and some salt.
Once it’s cooked to your liking, pull the pizza out of the oven and immediately top with the arugula. Serve and enjoy!
In any given year, July is a big month for my family, with three birthdays—my mom’s, Shiv’s, Jill’s—and the anniversary of my father’s death. But this year, we’ve got an especially big time going, as we are in medias res of moving Jill’s parents here to Texas. They’ll be moving into a house just down the street from my mom, which means that you should probably expect to see announcement of a Carroll/Mehra family reality show forthcoming in fall of 2014.
It’s a nutty, wonderful time around these parts, and to pile on the crazy, we’re getting onto a plane today to travel to Memphis to celebrate Shiv’s mundan ceremony, a traditional Hindu rite of passage that we’ve been planning for the last year. There will be more pictures and explanation of the weekend to come, but for now, I wanted to share a few season favorites, as I did for June, in the hopes that some of them might find their way into your kitchen this month!
Much love for a safe and celebratory Fourth—
This giant, puffy pancake is sure to be a crowd-pleaser, and is especially delightful when topped with berries or sliced peaches.
Cold soup is the ultimate summer lunch. For a spin on this recipe, I recommend roasting the tomatoes, onions, peppers, & garlic ahead of time—adds a really excellent depth of flavor.
This salad has made the internet rounds, and for good reason; it’s fresh, unusual, and goes super-well with grilled steak or fish.
A blue-ribbon recipe if there ever were one; make it now while the corn and tomatoes are in their prime!
This guest post from Jill features two tried-and-true family recipes to help you enjoy the summer’s okra bounty.
A spicy dish with Indian flavors, using the sweetness of summer cucumbers as a cooling foil.
These are a bit involved but totally worth it—cool, creamy pudding topped with warm, boozy cherries, need I say more? Plan ahead, as the puddings need to chill in the refrigerator for a few hours before you can eat them.
Fun to say (clafouti!) and really quite simple to make, this dessert is sophisticated and good for a crowd.
Meet the Carroll/Mehra family Saturday morning pancakes.
Since this recipe was published in Bon Appetit last May, these babies have become such a solid part of our rotation that I can make them without consulting the recipe. Shiv “helps” me mix the batter and spread and flip the first few pancakes; once they’re cool enough to eat, he leaves the fry cook duties to me & tucks into a plateful. Even Jill, who is usually not interested in sweet things at breakfast (she’s an alien, I know) will grab a few to go alongside her scrambled eggs. The recipe makes a bunch—I’d say about 20-25 small-to-medium pancakes—so the ones we don’t eat I let cool and then pack them up, two at a time, for the freezer: foil first, then a Ziploc. On weekdays, it’s super easy to grab and reheat a pair of pancakes for breakfast.
This recipe isn’t a showstopper. There’s nothing glamorous or fancy about these griddle cakes, which is maybe why I haven’t blogged about them before? I think sometimes I fall into the trap of wanting to dazzle (not just on this blog but in life in general), when often what ends up being the most satisfying are the simple, sustainable rituals and pleasures: how my mom makes a cup of tea better than anyone I know, sitting out by the lake after dinner with our neighbor Mike and his big, sweet Doberman, snuggling with Shiv in the dusk time after we’re done reading books but before I put him in his crib, these pancakes that we don’t seem to get sick of.
BLACKBERRY FARM GRIDDLE CAKES
The cakes are barely, barely sweet (which you can, of course, offset based on how much syrup you choose to pour on top of them) but the combination of flours yields a really lovely, distinctive texture and taste. They eat like a treat, but not like a decadent one.
Since we make these so often, I use this tip provided when the recipe was originally published—make your own pancake mix by tripling the dry ingredients, whisking them together well, & storing them in a jar. Then, when you’re ready to make pancakes, simply measure out 2 ¼ cups of the dry mixture and proceed with the recipe as listed; the amounts for the wet ingredients stay the same.
A few notes: the recipe doesn’t call for vanilla, but I like to add 1 tsp. to the batter, as it really seems to amplify the flavor of the maple syrup. Also, as you can see from the pictures, we added fresh blueberries to our most recent batch of pancakes, and we highly recommend you do the same; simply drop a few berries onto each pancake before you flip it over!
1 cup oat flour (make your own in 2 minutes by blitzing some rolled oats in your food processor)
2/3 cup yellow cornmeal
1/3 cup brown rice flour
¼ cup buckwheat flour
1 T baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. kosher salt
2 cups buttermilk
1 large egg
¼ cup maple syrup (use the good stuff!)
¼ cup unsalted butter, melted (I usually add a tablespoon or two more for the skillet, but you could also use coconut oil, vegetable oil, etc. for cooking the griddle cakes)
Get your pan ready–heat a large nonstick griddle or cast-iron skillet over medium.
Whisk the dry ingredients together in a large bowl. In a smaller, separate bowl, whisk the buttermilk, egg, & maple syrup together. Add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients and whisk to combine. Finally, whisk in the butter until you’ve worked through all of the lumps in the batter.
Brush your hot skillet with butter or oil. Pour the batter out in small amounts—about a quarter to a third cup for each pancake, spreading the batter a little with the side of the measuring cup as you go. Cook until the bottoms are browned and you see bubbles on top, about 3 minutes. Flip and cook on the other side for an additional 1-2 minutes. Serve hot, with butter & syrup!
*If you are cooking for someone with gluten intolerance, be certain to buy certified gluten-free oats & flours.
Let’s talk about how it never gets any clearer, the question of how to manage someone else’s pain. Let’s talk about how even when you’ve spent your fair share of time in a hospital waiting room, you still hardly know what to do when your friends are in a similar spot. Or how you can walk right next to your spouse through uncharted territory, but you can’t walk it for her.
Let’s talk about how “wanting to help” can so easily bleed over into “wanting to feel important,” how our vanity is almost always part of the equation, and how much work it can be to turn it off. Let’s talk about our inclination—we hate to admit it—to make everything about us, all of the time.
Let’s talk about those little screens that we carry around with us everywhere, miraculous, funny things that can reach across time and space and help us be present—in that hospital waiting room, in the cab of a pick-up truck, at the desk of someone we’d like to get to know—the same screens that frustrate and tangle and make us crazy with their awkward call-and-response.
Let’s talk about what it’s like to be a writer who knows that words are, in the necessary moments, almost always inadequate, but how you can’t keep yourself from saying them anyway.
Let’s talk about love, how it’s totally irrational, but that doesn’t stop us from trying to make sense of it. How we worry about silly things. How we want so much. How hope has weight, and gravity, and mass.
Let’s talk about how we believe it is possible to move outside ourselves, to step away from our own egos for one second, just long enough to feel inside another human being’s space: what Updike calls the “breathtaking attempt” to imagine what someone else is feeling.