Spring Skiing & Linguine with Sundried Tomato Pesto & Roasted Eggplant

In other parts of the country and around the world, there is a certain rhythm to the seasons. Spring, summer, fall and winter more or less come and go at three month intervals. In New England, especially northern New England, we certainly have four distinct seasons but they pay little attention to dates on a calendar. Here in New Hampshire, the rhythm and cycle is more than a little lopsided.

Winter is long, about six months long. It comes early and short changes autumn on the front end. From one minute to the next we move from fall into “I can’t believe it’s winter already”. Children in northern New England buy extra large Halloween costumes. They buy these oversized disguises not because they are particularly plump or big for their age but because they need to wear them over their snowsuits. We rarely worry about a white Christmas, most years we are already into “the dead of winter” (or if you prefer “winter in earnest”) before Thanksgiving. When spring officially rolls around in mid-March, we’re right in the middle of “you’ve got to be kidding, it’s still winter”.

Since I am a skier, I don’t feel any particular need to rush into spring. After all spring in New Hampshire starts with a lot of mud and ends with vicious, man-eating black flies. Even though spring is weeks away, March skiing is commonly known as spring skiing. Spring skiing is my reward for putting up with those dark cold days in December. It is payback for enduring those blistering cold days in January and compensation for surviving those blustery cold days in February.

In “the dead of winter”, clouds are cause for celebration and I check multiple weather reports to find out how much lovely white snow is predicted. Whether it ends up as flurries or a blizzard, I make frequent trips outside with my yardstick (I am an optimist) to check the storm’s progress. Once the calendar page is turned to March, clouds are more foreboding. I still check multiple weather reports but it is with the optimistic hope of just one more glorious snowfall. Or please, if it must rain, let it be a short-lived drizzle. The worst case is a heartless downpour which washes away all the fun. Since I am more or less tired of shoveling, lots of dry sunny days and cold and clear nights would suit me just fine. It’s good for the maple sugar harvest as well.

Spring skiing is wonderful because you can enjoy the slopes without looking like the Michelin man’s more colorful cousin or a bank robber. It is great to pare down to a layer or two and (with sunblock!) turn your face to the sun. The truly brave or perhaps foolhardy ski in shorts. Goggles are left at home in favor of sunglasses. Baseball caps replace helmets. I’m feeling particularly colorful these days in my new Sherpa cap, a welcomed birthday gift. While it is cheerful, it doesn’t really cover my ears and so would never do in “the dead of winter”.

Everyone on the mountain is lighter and brighter and the smiles are dazzling. It may be selfish. It may seem unfair but I am hoping that the ground stays covered for at least a few more weeks. I offer a little shrug and my half-hearted apologies to anyone anxious for spring. I don’t think I’m asking for much. Fool that I am; I’d just like to ski until the first of April!

Bon appétit!   

Linguine with Sundried Tomato Pesto & Roasted Eggplant

Whether you spend the day on the slopes or not, this pasta dish will bring a taste of sunshine and Sicily to your table. Enjoy!

Serve 6

4-6 oil-packed sundried tomato halves, drained
3 cloves garlic, chopped
1 teaspoon anchovy paste
1/4 teaspoon hot pepper sauce or to taste
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
Extra virgin olive oil
1 medium eggplant, cut into bite-sized pieces
1/2 large red onion, chopped
12 ounces linguine
1/4 cup large Sicilian or Greek olives (or a mix), pitted and chopped
2 tablespoons capers, drained
2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh oregano or mint
2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
2 tablespoons pine nuts, toasted
Pecorino Romano or Parmesan cheese, grated

1. Make the Sundried Tomato Pesto: Combine the sundried tomatoes, garlic, anchovy paste, pepper sauce, vinegar, salt and pepper in a small food processor or blender. Process to combine and form a rough paste. Add 2-3 tablespoons olive oil, process until smooth. Set aside.
2. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
3. Place the eggplant and onion on non-stick baking sheet, drizzle with a little olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Toss to combine. Roast, stirring 2-3 times, for about 30 minutes or until lightly browned.
4. While the vegetables are roasting, cook the pasta according to package directions.
5. Drain the pasta, reserving a little pasta water.  Return the pasta to the pot; add enough sundried tomato pesto to lightly coat. Add the eggplant, olives and capers; toss to combine. If the mixture seems dry, add a little pasta water.  Sprinkle with oregano and parsley and toss to combine. Sprinkle with pine nuts and grated Pecorino Romano or Parmesan cheese and serve.

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One Year Ago – Fondue

Feel free to look around my website, you can learn about my new philanthropic project Eat Well – Do Good, link to magazine articles and more on at www.susannye.com. ©Susan W. Nye, 2010

Fun and Snow Games & Pork Tenderloin with Mushrooms

It’s been a crazy winter. A winter when up is down and down is up. El Niño has brought snow to the south with flakes flying from the nation’s capital to Florida, Mississippi and Alabama. And in New England, where we expect snow, we’ve had drought followed by rain followed by drought. On top of the dearth of snow, the winter winds have been fiercer than ever. Of course, it could be my imagination but it seems to me that we’ve suffered more than our fair share of windy days. I swear I’ve come this close to being blown off course more times than I care to count. Somehow I’ve managed to avoid lift-off and an inadvertent trip to Kansas or Oz.

Way out to the west, California is drowning in rain. And up to the north in British Columbia, it may be February but Vancouver and the neighboring mountains are in the middle of a spring thaw. Not great news for the Olympics. In spite of the rain, fog and grey skies the Olympic spirit is soaring over the Canadian Rockies.

Maybe it is because I grew up on skates and skis but the winter games are always a special treat. When we were kids we spent all day Saturday on the slopes. When we were too tuckered to take even one more run, we headed home to watch the professionals. With a mug of hot chocolate and a bowl of popcorn, we sprawled in front of the television and watched the joys of victory and the agonies of defeat. It was a weekly ritual.

Now I either need to subscribe to a whole lot more channels or I need to do a better job at ferreting out the skiers, bobsledders and speed skating on the channels I have. Except during the Olympics. Once every four years I can get my fill of winter sports. I can tune into the artistry of the figure skaters one night and the terrifying speed of the bob and luge the next. The ski jumpers, downhill skiers and the speed skaters are amazing with their power and control at high speeds. And then there is the pure joy and whimsy of the snowboarders.

Yes, I know they are serious athletes. Yes, I know that they train hard throughout the year and have been at it for most of their lives. I even know that there is big money involved with sponsorships and endorsement contracts. But in spite of all that, there is something about the spirit of snowboarding that reminds me of being a kid on the mountain.

It doesn’t take all that much imagination to picture your favorite snowboarders at nine or ten. They were the kids with hats askew over unruly curls, unzipped jackets flapping in the breeze and arms flailing. And most of all, theirs were the smiles so big and broad they could light up the greyest day. Or maybe I’m just remembering my own fun-filled childhood on the slopes.

I’m a skier and always have been. Even though I’ve never tried snowboarding, I was pretty raggle-taggle as a kid and maybe I still am. But there’s at least one thing I knew then and still know; there’s nothing like fresh snow on the mountain to bring out a smile and inspire joy.

Enjoy the Olympics. May it be filled with lots of joyful victories and not too many agonizing defeats. Bon appétit!

 Pork with Mushrooms and White Wine Sauce

Bring friends and family together for an Olympics party. Pork tenderloin with mushrooms and white wine sauce is a sure winner; quick, easy and delicious. Enjoy!

Serves 6

Olive oil
1 pound mushrooms, cleaned, trimmed and sliced
1 shallot, finely chopped
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
1-2 cloves garlic, minced
2 pork tenderloins, about 1 pound each
1/2 cup dry white wine
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon fresh rosemary, minced
1 teaspoon fresh thyme
1-2 tablespoons cold butter, cut in small pieces
2 tablespoons Cognac (optional)

Heat a little olive oil in a large ovenproof skillet over medium high heat. Add the mushrooms and shallots, sprinkle with salt and pepper and sauté until lightly browned. Add the garlic and sauté for 1-2 minutes more.  Remove the mushrooms from the pan and reserve.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Add a little more olive oil to the skillet and raise the heat. Sear the pork tenderloins on all sides until nicely browned. Transfer the pan to the oven and roast for 10 minutes or until the pork’s internal temperature reaches 140-145 degrees. Remove the pork from the pan and let rest for 5 to 10 minutes before slicing.

Transfer the skillet to the stovetop – be careful the handle will be hot. Add the wine to the skillet and deglaze the pan over medium-high heat. Whisk in the mustard and herbs. Return the mushrooms to the skillet, toss to combine. Bring to a simmer and cook until the liquid is reduced by about half. Stir in the cognac and butter. Whisk to combine.

Cut the pork into 1/2-inch slices and serve immediately with the mushroom sauce.

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One Year Ago – Raviolis in Broth with Meatballs & Escarole

Do you have a question? An idea, a few thoughts or an opinion you’d like to share? I’d love to hear from you! Let’s get a conversation going. To make a comment, just click on Comments below.

I’d be delighted to add you to the growing list of blog subscribers. To subscribe: just scroll back up, fill in your email address and click on the Sign Me Up button. You’ll get an email asking you to confirm your subscription … confirm and you will automatically receive a new story and recipe every week.

Feel free to visit my other, cleverly named blog, Susan Nye’s Other Blog, or website at www.susannye.com. You can find more than 200 recipes, links to magazine articles and lots more. I hope that you will take a minute to learn about my philanthropic project Eat Well-Do Good. ©Susan W. Nye, 2010

The Annual Ski Vacation & Greek Pizza

A light snow is falling, I wish it was more but I’ll take what I can get. It has come just in time for the flatlanders’ annual trek north for February vacation. For many years, my family was a part of the mid-February mass exodus from Massachusetts to points north. The best thing my parents ever did was build a small vacation house in the woods near Pleasant Lake. When vacation time rolled around we couldn’t get out of town fast enough. On departure day, our duffels were packed and sitting by the backdoor before we left for school. We struggled through the seemingly endless school day until the last bell finally rang and we were free for the week. We quickly piled everything into the back of the station wagon and headed north.

Big snow guns had not yet found their way to our favorite ski area so we were completely dependent on natural snow. If Mother Nature didn’t cooperate we were out of luck. I’m sure that some years were better than others. There must have been years with lots of rocks and ice and little snow. I don’t remember those times; I only remember the vacations when there was plenty of snow and lots of sunshine. I have particularly vivid memories of one long and snowy February vacation.

It started out as an ordinary weekend. Vacation was still another week away. It began snowing late Saturday afternoon. It was still snowing when we got up the next morning. Since we skied in blizzards and on ice, in the cold and in the rain, we were back on our skis on Sunday. By mid afternoon we were wet and cold and visibility was close to zero. We called it a day.

Luckily my parents decided that driving back to Boston in a blizzard was not only crazy but possibly dangerous. It was a pretty sure bet that school would be cancelled the next day. We would spend a relaxing Sunday night by the fire, ski on Monday morning and then head south in the afternoon.

On Monday morning the sun came out and we watched the newscasts from Boston while we waited for the snowplow. The city and surrounding suburbs were at a standstill. Cars were stuck and abandoned on highways, city streets and suburban roadways. Offices and schools throughout the Commonwealth were closed. No one was going anywhere fast. Massachusetts was at a standstill.

In sharp contrast, New Hampshire roads were free and clear by midmorning. Delighted by our foresight, we were out on the slopes by 10:00, enjoying two feet of beautiful new powder. For the rest of the week we continued to check the newscasts but Massachusetts schools remained closed. It was an epic battle of Snow versus the Flatlanders and Snow was winning. We were all too happy to cheer from afar. We skied every day. It was heaven on earth.

The next week was vacation week. It was beyond a doubt one of the best ever. The snow was fantastic. Every day was clear and sunny and not too cold. As we were packing up to head home, another epic nor’easter blew in. Was it a miracle or had the patron saint of middle schoolers decided that two weeks was not enough? Could we hope for a third week of skiing?  As flakes began to fall, my parents debated the pros and cons of staying or leaving. My mom never really liked to ski but had absolutely no desire to spend a day or two or three snowbound and housebound in suburbia. We stayed. If the storm turned out to be more bluff than bluster, we could leave early Monday morning.

It was the right decision. The storm dumped another two or three feet of snow and Massachusetts closed down for another week. We were in seventh heaven.

Have a wonderful February vacation and bon appétit!

Greek Pizza
After a day on the slopes, let everyone hang out in the kitchen and make pizzas. Add a salad and dinner is done. Have a great vacation and enjoy!
Serves 4

Olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
1 teaspoon Italian herbs
2 cloves garlic, minced
about 8 ounces frozen spinach or 12 ounces fresh
16-20 ounces pizza dough (your favorite recipe, store-bought or from your favorite pizzeria)
4 ounces feta crumbled
8 ounces mozzarella cheese, shredded
12 or more kalamata or oil cured black olives, pitted and quartered

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

Heat a little olive oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium heat. Add the chopped red onion and herbs and sauté for 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 2-3 minutes more. Turn up the heat and add the spinach, sauté until the spinach defrosts (or fresh wilts) and most of the liquid is cooked off. Set aside.

Cut the pizza dough into 4 pieces. Stretch each piece into a round or roll out with a rolling pin.  Top each pizza with spinach, sprinkle with shredded mozzarella, crumbled feta and olives.

Transfer the pizzas to a lightly oiled baking sheet or a preheated pizza stone. Bake the pizza for 12-15 minutes if you use a baking sheet and 8-12 minutes if you use a pizza stone or until the cheese is bubbly and crust is crisp.

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One Year Ago – Triple Threat Brownies
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Feel free to look around my website, you can learn about my new philanthropic project Eat Well – Do Good, link to magazine articles and more on at www.susannye.com. ©Susan W. Nye, 2010

January – The Coldest Month – Part Two & Apple Bread Pudding

It’s that time of year when the weather takes center stage and the lead story on the morning news. A cold wind has been blowing out of the northwest. The skies have been mostly grey. While it has been pretty chilly here, we’ve not been hit by earth shattering, record breaking cold. For that kind of cold you need to head south to Florida, yes, Florida.

From one end of my neighborhood to the other, half the houses are empty. My snowbird neighbors have fled to the south, looking for sunshine and warm temperatures. Many are down in Florida, the Sunshine State. What they’ve found, at least for now, is frost on the golf course, icicles on the oranges and the threat of flurries in the air. Not for a day or even two but several. The governor even declared a state of emergency. It’s not the first time but it’s the first time in decades, at least two, maybe three.

I’ve only been to Florida a couple of times. The first was enough to swear me off the state for life. Since that first trip, I’ve been forced or tricked into a couple of visits but I try to steer clear. I took my infamous Florida vacation in mid-January during a break from college.

Every year my grandparents spent October to May in a condo apartment in West Palm Beach. The apartment looked out onto a pool and the beach was just around the corner. Sounds good. My mother flew down to check up on them every month or so and she asked me to tag along. Since it was January, it was ridiculously cold in New Hampshire. The trip south was billed as a chance to get out of the cold, walk the beach and go for a swim. I had nothing better to do. I loved and missed my grandparents. I could get a tan before heading back to school. I went along.

It snowed.

Yes, snowed. Not long, not hard and not a lot, just enough to know that it had happened. All these years later they still talk about it. Every January on a slow news day, the story makes page five or six in the local newspaper, usually with a picture of an orange or strawberry dripping with icicles.

My mother and I shivered in our cotton dresses and summer shoes. At some point I think we must have started to go a little stir-crazy. I guess we took a walk. Or maybe not. With the fierce winds a gust could have easily picked us up and carried us away. We could have landed in Freeport; that’s the Bahamas not Maine. It wouldn’t have done much good. The islands were hit by the same deep freeze.

Throughout the three or four days we spend with them, Nana apologized often and profusely. It’s amazing how women, particularly grandmothers, seem to take responsibility for all those uncontrollable hiccups that mar a vacation. My grandfather took us out to lunch. A head cold has turned my brain to mush so it’s all a bit of blur right now but I seem to remember tiki torches and lots of pineapple. He also took us shopping to Nana’s favorite boutique. All in all, it’s best to describe the vacation as an interesting experience. Eventually it warmed up, just in time for us to head to the airport and home.

If the frigid temperatures have got you feeling cold and out of sorts, cheer up. You could be shivering in the Sunshine State. A walk on a beach may be out of the question but you can always walk the well-sanded roads around Pleasant Lake. A big gust of wind won’t land you in Freeport, the Bahamas or Maine, only Elkins.

Bon appétit!

Apple Bread Pudding with Bourbon-Caramel Crème Anglaise

Invite friends and family in for a cozy dinner by the fire and top it off with warm and wonderful bread pudding. It’s pure comfort food! Enjoy!

Serves 12

1 cup raisins or craisins
1/4 cup bourbon
1/4 apple cider or orange juice
1 tablespoon butter
4 cups whole milk
1 cup granulated sugar
8 whole eggs
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1 teaspoon ginger
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
4 apples, peeled, cored and thinly sliced
1 loaf day old crusty, country bread; cut in 1 1/2-inch cubes

1. In a small bowl, combine the raisins with the bourbon and cider; soak for at least 2 hours.
2. Butter a 9×13-inch baking dish or large casserole.
3. To make the custard: put the sugar, eggs, vanilla, cinnamon, ginger and nutmeg in a large mixing bowl and whisk until well combined. Slowly whisk in the milk.
4. Put the bread cubes, apples and raisins in a large bowl and gently toss to combine. Transfer the bread and apple mixture to the prepared baking dish. Pour the custard over the bread cubes, making sure that all the cubes are submerged (push cubes down if necessary). Set aside for 15-20 minutes.
5. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
6. Bake for about 1 hour or until pudding is set. Serve warm with Bourbon-Caramel Crème Anglaise.
   

Bourbon-Caramel Crème Anglaise
Makes about 2 cups

3/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup water
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1 1/2 cups heavy cream
4 tablespoons bourbon
3 large egg yolks
Pinch salt
1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract

1. Put the sugar and water in a heavy medium saucepan and cook over medium-low heat, stirring continuously, until the sugar dissolves.
2. Add the lemon juice. Increase the heat and bring to a boil, swirling pan occasionally, until the caramel turns a deep amber color, about 10 minutes. If sugar crystals form on the side of the pan, brush down the sides of the pan with a wet pastry brush.
3. Remove the pan from the heat. Stir in 4 tablespoons cream (the mixture will bubble up). Transfer the caramel to a medium bowl. Cool for 5 minutes and whisk in the bourbon.
4. Prepare an ice bath; set aside.
5. Whisk the remaining cream with the egg yolks and salt in a small heavy saucepan. Cook over low heat, stirring constantly until it registers 160 degrees on a candy thermometer. Pour the custard through a fine-mesh sieve into the bowl with the bourbon-caramel. Whisk until the mixture is smooth. Stir in the vanilla.
6. Set the bowl in the ice bath, stir frequently to cool. Chill completely in the refrigerator and keep refrigerated until ready to use.
7. Serve warm, room temperature or cold with warm bread pudding. To reheat zap in the microwave on low, start with 1 minute and continue in increments of 10-15 seconds.

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One Year Ago – Root ‘n’ Tooty Good ‘n’ Fruity Oatmeal Cookies

I’d love to hear from you! Let’s get a conversation going. To make a comment, just click on Comments below. I’d be delighted to add you to the growing list of blog subscribers. To subscribe: just scroll back up, fill in your email address and click on the Sign Me Up button. You’ll get an email asking you to confirm your subscription … confirm and you will automatically receive a new story and recipe every week.

Feel free to visit my photoblog, Susan Nye 365 or my cleverly named other blog, Susan Nye’s Other Blog, or website www.susannye.com. You can find more than 200 recipes, links to magazine articles and lots more. I hope that you will take a minute to learn about my philanthropic project Eat Well-Do Good. ©Susan W. Nye, 2010

January – The Coldest Month & Lasagna

After almost seventeen years in Switzerland and another three on the west coast, I drove 3,000 miles across the country to New Hampshire in late April 2003. It was snowing as I slipped and slid into the State, exhausted but happy to be home. From the time I was ten, New Hampshire had always been my home-away-from-home. It was a place filled with happy memories of summer and ski vacations.

I decided to take some time to get my bearings. I did a little consulting and a lot of kayaking and skiing. I reconnected with family and friends, cooked a lot and became famous for, among other things, an incredibly rich and decadent chocolate birthday cake. I rediscovered the seasons as only New England has them.

Most if not all of the daffodils and tulips were wilted and gone when I pulled out of Seattle on Easter weekend. Four or five days later when I arrived in New Hampshire, the ground was covered with snow. Eventually spring came, bringing frost heaves, mud and black flies, as well as my favorite daffodils, tulips and lilacs. Spring turned to summer, the black flies disappeared and Pleasant Lake was as magical as ever. Fall was brilliant; the Technicolor spectacle was as good if not better than I remembered.

And then winter came.  I knew that New Hampshire winters were cold but I had forgotten how cold. I tried to adapt. I began dressing-like-an-onion in layers of long underwear, flannel and wool. To answer the question that I’m sure is on your lips … no it is not this cold in Switzerland. Winter temperatures hover between 30 and 40 degrees in Geneva. It doesn’t snow a whole lot; it’s mostly grey and rainy. Yes, there is lots and lots of glorious snow in the Alps but it rarely turns as bitterly cold as a typical January day in northern New England.

From a young age, I was taught to ignore the cold and get my money’s worth out of my season ski pass. Our family skied in arctic temperatures, gale winds and blizzards. When I lived in Switzerland I was hard pressed to find anyone to join me on bitter cold or stormy days. Frigid days were for snuggling up by the fire with a good book. It was wonderful!

Returning to New England triggered something. It might have been old guilt or just a return to old habits. The far-away voice of my father rattled around in my head, telling me to get out on the slopes! And so, in early January of my first winter back I headed for the mountain on a colder than cold morning.

No surprise, the mountain was mostly deserted on that frigid Friday. By the time my chairlift reached the top, I was a block of ice. Given the temperature and the gale force winds, I didn’t hang around to admire the view. I immediately started down the trail. About half way down I came to an abrupt stop. No, I didn’t need to rest or catch my breath. The wind was blowing so hard up the side of the hill that it stopped me dead in my tracks. I froze through a few more runs and then reminded myself that my Dad was playing golf in sunny Florida and rushed home to a hot shower and warm fire.

Perhaps it’s the wisdom of age or a fear of frostbite but since that day I have become something of a fair-weather skier. When the wind is howling and the temperature plummets below zero, I leave the mountain to the true die-hards. And just in case my Dad checks up on me, I still figure I took about 800 runs last year at about 50 cents apiece!

Bon appétit!

Four Cheese Lasagna Bolognese with Spinach

Lasagna is great when you have a houseful of hungry skiers. This classic comfort food is perfect after a cold day on the slopes. Enjoy!
Serves 12 or more

About 6 cups of Bolognese sauce (recipe follows)
1 1/2 cups Béchamel sauce (recipe follows)
15 ounces ricotta cheese
12 ounces shredded whole-milk mozzarella cheese
4 ounces grated Parmesan
4 ounces grated Pecorino Romano
1 pound frozen leaf spinach, thawed and drained
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
About 8 ounces lasagna noodles –12 noodles, enough for 4 layers

Make the Bolognese and Béchamel sauces and set aside.

Combine the mozzarella, Parmesan and Romano cheeses and toss.

Cook the lasagna noodles according to package directions. (Noodles sticking together? Check out my tip to keep lasagna noodles from sticking.

Spread 1- 2 cups of Bolognese sauce in the bottom of a large, deep ceramic or glass baking pan (about 13 by 10 by 3-inches). Arrange 3 lasagna noodles on top of the sauce. Top the noodles with 1/3 of the ricotta, 1/3 of the spinach and 1-2 cups of Bolognese sauce.  Sprinkle with 1/4 of the cheese mixture.  Repeat with a second and third layer of noodles-ricotta-spinach-Bolognese sauce- cheeses.

Arrange remaining noodles on top and spread with Béchamel sauce. Sprinkle with the remaining cheeses.  Tightly cover the baking dish with foil. You can store in the refrigerator for several hours or bake immediately.

When you are ready to bake the lasagna, position the rack in the center of the oven and preheat oven to 350 degrees. Bake the lasagna for 45-60 minutes, if the lasagna is cold from the refrigerator it will take longer.  Remove foil, continue baking uncovered until the sauce bubbles and the top is golden, about15 minutes longer. Let the lasagna stand for 15 minutes before serving.

Classic Bolognese Sauce
Makes about 4 quarts, for at least 2 or 3 lasagnas, you can freeze the extra sauce.

9 cups (3 cans – 28 ounces each) crushed tomatoes
1 large onion, finely chopped
1 medium carrot, grated
1 red bell pepper, finely chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon dried Italian herbs
Pinch crushed red pepper (optional)
1 cup dry red wine
1 bay leaf
1/2 pound Italian sausage; hot, sweet or a mix, casings removed
1/2 pound ground beef
3 tablespoons chopped fresh basil (optional)
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
Olive Oil

Heat a heavy casserole over medium-high heat. Add the sausage and ground beef to the pot, breaking up the meat into bite-size pieces, cook until brown about 5 minutes.

Remove from the pan. Drain the fat and reserve.

Add a little olive oil in the pot and heat over medium high heat. Add the onion, carrot, pepper and garlic, sprinkle with Italian herbs, red pepper, salt and pepper. Sauté until vegetables are tender.

Return the meat to the pot. Add the crushed tomatoes, wine and bay leaf. Bring to a simmer, reduce heat to low and simmer for 45 minutes. Stir in the chopped basil.

Béchamel Sauce
2 tablespoons butter
1 1/2 tablespoon all-purpose flour
1 1/2 cups whole milk
Pinch of nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon dried Italian herbs
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper

Melt the butter in a heavy small saucepan over medium heat. Add the flour and herbs; cook, whisking constantly, for 1 minute. Gradually whisk in the milk. Bring to a simmer over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat to low and simmer until the sauce thickens, whisking often, about 5 minutes. Whisk in the nutmeg. Check for seasoning and add salt and pepper to taste.

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One Year Ago – Curried Chicken and Lentil Soup

What’s your favorite cold weather dishes? I’d love to hear from you! Let’s get a conversation going. To make a comment, just click on Comments below. I’d be delighted to add you to the growing list of blog subscribers. To subscribe: just scroll back up, fill in your email address and click on the Sign Me Up button. You’ll get an email asking you to confirm your subscription … confirm and you will automatically receive a new story and recipe every week.

Feel free to visit my photoblog, Susan Nye 365 or my cleverly named other blog, Susan Nye’s Other Blog, or website www.susannye.com. You can find more than 200 recipes, links to magazine articles and lots more. I hope that you will take a minute to learn about my philanthropic project Eat Well-Do Good. ©Susan W. Nye, 2010

Learning to Ski & Raviolis in Broth with Meatballs & Escarole

My Dad began skiing as a young boy and claims to have been the youngest member of the Brockton Ski Club. He continued to ski throughout high school and college. His trips to the mountains became fewer and farther between after he got married and made the transition from student to husband and salesman. After my sister and I were born, he had no time for the slopes. His skis were left in the corner of the garage except for the occasional run or two down the sledding hill at the local golf course.

He obviously missed the sport because when I was seven and my sister, Brenda, was nine we found skis under the Christmas tree. He had a grand scheme. He would teach us to ski. Everyone would win. We would spend time with Daddy and learn to ski, my Mom would have a break at home and he could enjoy one of his favorite pastimes. Brenda was very excited when she discovered her skis on Christmas morning. And being the older sister, she convinced me that I was excited too.

We learned to ski at Priest’s Ski Area. The hill had ten slopes and a handful of rope tows. I seem to remember that it was an apple orchard in the off-season. There was no snow making and we trusted Mother Nature for our weekend fun. My sister was much better at it than I. My feet were always cold and I thought that the best thing about skiing was the hot cocoa. None of the trails were very long; the wait in line and ride up took a lot longer than the ski down.

It may be my imagination, but I seem to remember that ancient Ford pick-ups ran the rope tows. The tows ran fast enough to give whip-lash to little girls or at least jerk our arms out of their sockets. At the bottom of the hill we’d take a deep breath, marshal our courage and grab on for dear life. Gas was cheap in those days and a daily lift ticket cost a dollar. Within a year or two we were proud season pass holders, regulars at the hill. The cost for the three of us? A grand total of $25.

As we got older and a bit more adept, my Dad treated us to trips to New Hampshire. We skied on real mountains with real lifts, without apple trees or ancient Fords. Our neighbors the Pierces introduced us to King Ridge, the upside down mountain. Unlike most resorts, the parking lot and lodge were on the top of the hill. It was world’s coldest parking lot; an icy north wind was always blowing but the view of the surrounding hills from the lodge deck was spectacular.

By the time we were introduced to King Ridge, my brother was four. He and my mother joined us on skis. The trails at King Ridge were quite a bit longer than Priest’s; you couldn’t see the bottom from the top! And there were T-bars, a definite step up from rope tows. All these upgrades did not come cheap. As long as we bought before Labor Day, a season pass for our family of five was just over $100. King Ridge was a great family resort and we spent a lot of wonderful, winter weekends and vacations on those trails.

After a long day of skiing we headed home for an evening of après-ski. All the kids went sledding or ice skating. When there was enough snow we jumped off the deck. My nieces now carry on this tradition and are not just terrific skiers but great deck jumpers as well. Cold and wet, we finally headed indoors to warm up, dry off and enjoy a hearty dinner of pasta, beef stew or the occasional fondue. After a day in the cold we had earned it!

I still make a point of getting on the mountain a few times a week although I no longer find hot chocolate the best part of skiing. And while I’ve given up deck jumping, I continue to enjoy an après-ski evening with good friends and good food around the fire. Enjoy!

Bon appétit!

Raviolis in Broth with Turkey Meatballs & Greens
This is a warm and wonderful dish for après-ski. Enjoy!
Serves 4

2 carrots, finely chopped
2 stalks celery, finely chopped
1 onion, finely chopped
3 cloves of garlic, minced
1 teaspoon dried herbs de Provence
Pinch of red pepper flakes or to taste
1/2 cup dry white wine
1 1/2 quarts chicken stock
1 bay leaf
Turkey Meatballs (recipe follows)
16 ounces fresh or frozen cheese raviolis
1 small head escarole, cut in thin strips or a pound of baby spinach
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Olive oil
Grated Parmesan cheese

1. Heat a heavy soup pot over medium heat. Put a little olive oil in the pot; add the onions, carrot, celery, herbs, pepper flakes, salt and pepper. Sauté until the onion is translucent. Add the garlic and sauté 1 or 2 minutes more.
2. Add the white wine, chicken stock and the bay leaf. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer for 10-15 minutes.
3. Raise the heat to high, bring the soup to a boil and add the raviolis. Return to a boil and then reduce to a simmer. Cook according to package directions, less a minute or two.
4. Add the meatballs and escarole. Gently stir to combine. Continue to simmer until the raviolis are al dente, the escarole is wilted and the meatballs are warmed through. Check for seasoning and serve with a sprinkle of Grated Parmesan cheese.

Turkey Meatballs
1/2 small onion, finely chopped
1/2 red bell pepper, finely chopped
1 medium carrot, grated
1 clove garlic, minced
1 pound lean ground turkey
2 tablespoons oatmeal
1 teaspoon dried herbs de Provence
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 large egg, lightly beaten
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
Olive oil

1. In a small skillet sauté the onion, pepper and carrot over medium heat until the onion is translucent. Add the garlic and cook for 1 minute more. Set aside to cool.
2. In a large bowl, toss the remaining ingredients together to combine; add the vegetables and combine.
3. Roll the turkey mixture into 16 little meatballs; dust the meatballs in flour. Heat a little olive oil in a sauté pan. When the oil is hot, add the meatballs. Cook until browned on all sides and cooked through. If you need to, cook in batches but don’t crowd the pan.

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