There is nothing dramatic about this cake. A simple 9 inch round, one bowl to mix it in, getting crazy with a little cinnamon in the traditional cream cheese frosting. In other words, my kind of dessert.

The sort to make for a weeknight dinner guest. Our longtime friend Karl is leaving Seattle by way of a ’round the world trip. Of course he’s endured his fair share of Eat, Pray, Love jokes, but he’s in a different category, I assure you. The category of working to get through grad school, getting a job helping homeless folks find housing, and now risking like crazy to leave all that. We are going to miss him, and nothing says, “Don’t forget about us!” like food. He requested puttanesca for dinner and this cake was (surprise!) concocted based on my produce drawer. (By the way, if you’re interested in a spot-on commentary on the whole Eat, Pray, Love phenomenon–i.e. “How was that trip funded?!”–click here. I love it when the author says that most of us need to have our epiphanies in the middle of everyday life. Or in the middle of sheer survival.)

For Karl, on his grand adventure. May he, with joy, be thrown into the highs and lows, the sights and smells, the loneliness and companionship that such a trip can bring. And for the rest of us, on our grand adventures. Maybe it’s making a cake for the first time. Maybe it’s saying “no” to something we’ve always wanted to refuse. Maybe it’s settling into the very UNadventurous reality of our own lives and–miracle of miracles–being content there.

Zucchini Pecan Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting
I love that this cake uses olive oil instead of vegetable oil to moisten it. Like the recipe says, don’t use extra virgin. I usually have some milder stuff around for uses like this. I love the very slightest hint of depth it gives the cake. If you don’t have a mild olive oil in your pantry, I’d sub vegetable oil before you throw in an expensive extra virgin variety. And I didn’t have a 9″ pan with 2″ sides, so used a 9″ springform instead. It worked beautifully.

Recipe

It’s been a Divide-and-Conquer Week. Me waiting at the door for Yancey to come home so I can leave for my meeting, both of us with various evening commitments, handing the kids off like batons. So we eschewed all chores yesterday and had a family day.

We went to Mercer Island Thrift Store, which is a secret I shouldn’t be sharing. If you are a woman who wears shoe size 8, look no further for designer boots, cast off after one season by fashion-conscious soccer moms. Love that place. We found a great $5 bike for Loretta, went on a bike ride around Mercer Slough, stopped at Overlake Blueberry Farm, and saw a coyote meandering through the blueberry bushes. If I was a coyote, I’d be hanging out there, too.

Halfway through the bike ride, our thoughts (okay–my thoughts) turned to dinner. It was agreed that we’d have grilled steak and corn, some green beans from the garden. Occasionally I buy a couple steaks from Bob’s, and there is nothing easier or more delicious. I’m always hankering to spice things up, though, and often do it with a little sauce like this. I had some beautiful peppers that we grilled up, too–I’m not sure what kind they are–anybody know? They’re fairly spicy, not as mild as ahaheims.

Spear a bite of steak with grilled pepper, drag it through vibrant green sauce, reminisce about the day. All of us in one place. Ah.

Grilled Steak with Peppers and Chimichurri Sauce
Serves 4. Chimichurri is a classic Argentinean sauce to accompany grilled meats, and I’ve been seeing it everywhere these days. This version is based on what was in my fridge, but it often includes yellow onions, other herbs, and citrus juice instead of/in addition to vinegar. Usually there’s crushed red peppers or fresh chile in it, too, but I’ve left that out here because things were spicy enough. Any leftover sauce is delicious drizzled on potatoes on burritos. If it thickens up in the fridge, just thin it with a bit of water.

2 1 lb. tri-tip steaks
coarse salt
fresh ground pepper
1 lb. fresh peppers (mild or spicy)

For sauce:
1 bunch washed and dried cilantro
1/2 bunch washed and dried Italian parsley
1 large garlic clove
big pinch of coarse salt
3 green onions, coarsely chopped
2 Tb. red wine vinegar
1/4 c. extra virgin olive oil

Sprinkle both sides of steak with salt and pepper and let sit while you make the sauce.

To make sauce, pulse cilantro, parsley, garlic, green onions, and salt in a food processor until a paste forms. Add vinegar and olive oil and pulse until a sauce forms. Add more salt to taste if you want.

Heat grill to high. Brush peppers with olive oil, and grill until blackened all over, turning a few times, about 7 minutes. Put peppers in a paper bag, close the top, and let them steam for 10 minutes to loosen the peels. Peel, seed, and coarsely chop them. (I wear disposable plastic gloves for this task if I’m working with spicy peppers. Learned my lesson the hard way.)

Now grill your steak to your liking. When it’s done, tent it with foil and let it rest for 7-10 minutes, then thinly slice it. Serve with grilled peppers and chimichurri sauce.

I brought a big tray of these cookies over to to my friend Kathy, hoping they might help feed all the family and friends that had descended on her house after Bud’s death. I met some of the family later at the memorial service. I positively beamed when they asked me for the recipe and recounted how they had all stood over them exclaiming and how there were none left. I suppose it helped me feel that, in some small way, I had lightened the load just the tiniest bit. Cookies are good for that sort of thing.

And I did promise the recipe. You, faithful readers, will not be surprised that it’s simply an adaptation of my Mom’s Chocolate Chip Cookies. Macrina makes a similar version, but I am going to be completely audacious and sacrilegious by saying I think these are better. Pride comes before a fall. I’m now ensuring that the next 10 things I cook will utterly flop.

Still thinking about you every second, Kathy. And about how Bud tended to gobble up whatever baked goods I made. I’ll miss that.

Apricot Espresso Chocolate Chip Cookies
Even if you’re not a huge dried fruit fan, I’m betting you’ll like the dried apricots in these. The chocolate balances out their sweetness, and they lend a wonderful chewiness. And the espresso powder (available at lots of decent grocery stores–I buy the Medaglia D’Doro brand) adds a depth that your grateful tasters might not be able to put their finger on. Super important to LET THIS DOUGH REFRIGERATE FOR AT LEAST 30 MINUTES or the cookies will flatten out too much.

1 3/4 c. flour
2 c. old fashioned oats
1 c. brown sugar
1/2 c. white sugar
1 ts. baking soda
pinch salt
3 tsp. instant espresso powder
2 cubes (1 cup) unsalted butter, melted and cooled
1 egg and 1 egg yolk
1 ts. vanilla
1/2 bag semisweet or 60% chocolate chips (Can add more if you want.  This is how I get two batches out of one bag)
1 c. coarsely chopped dried apricots

Preheat oven to 350.  In medium bowl, combine flour, oatmeal,sugars, salt,baking soda, and espresso powder.  Add egg, egg yolk, melted butter, and vanilla, stir once or twice, then add chocolate chips and nuts and dried apricots.  Refrigerate dough for at least 30 minutes to firm it up.  Place balls of cookie dough on cookie sheets lined with parchment paper, and bake for 9-10 minutes.  Take them out while they still the tiniest bit underdone.  Once they sit for 15 minutes, they’ll be just right.

Good morning, friends. I should be doing a million other things right now, but woke up feeling a little lonely. So I’m here instead.

And with not much to say except that sometimes, even if everything else seems dull and gray (right, Seattleites?), the colors on our plate offer themselves as a reminder of all the riotous bounty in the world. It could have been that all fruit was khaki-colored, and all vegetables were white. Or that we take a pill every morning for the day’s nourishment.

Instead, it’s this–orange mango chunks in the bottom of a glass, a dallop of yogurt. Then jam or fruit sauce–in my case, mushy plums that I cooked down and put through a food mill. Then some crunchy granola. Now, all four layers again. Or maybe you’ve got berries, some early apples, pineapple or cantaloupe, nectarines or peaches. Anything will do. Stick your spoon in–you might be the stirring type or the keep-it-in-layers type. I’m the latter. Whatever the day holds, at least there is this bright, sweet sustenance.

Yancey and I are both from Bellingham and grew up two blocks from one another. (Roll your eyes right now if you’ve heard all this before.) So not only is Bellingham a pleasant town to visit, but it’s loaded with nostalgia. We don’t drive around in his ‘66 Mustang anymore (if that car could talk…) but almost every park or storefront means something.

We drove up to get Wyatt from camp, spend time with family, and avoid mowing our lawn. (We are horrible with home maintenance. Have I mentioned this yet? If we’re not working, we’d always rather eat, cook, play, and socialize.) A few highlights:

Lebanese coffee at Mediterranean Specialities. My Mom knows every proprietor in town, and this was no exception. We went in to get za’atar and came out an hour and a half later. After standing and talking with the three sisters/owners for several minutes, they said, “Why don’t we sit down for coffee?” A platter of baklava appeared, too. Seattleites are very good at having long conversations on the sidewalk, but we’re bad at committing, settling in with each other.

Eye-popping bounty at Joe’s Garden. Joe’s Garden is a locally-owned truck farm right in the middle of town that’s been operating since 1933. I grew up going there, and it might even be reason enough to leave all the Asian markets in my neighborhood and move up north. For $20, I got a quart of late strawberries (the best I’ve had this year), several tender golden zucchini, rainbow chard, 3 kohlrabi bulbs, a giant bunch of celery, the most beautiful broccoli, a pound of nectarines, early apples, and some things I’m forgetting. The produce was at its peak, the staff is knowledgeable, friendly, and without snobbery, and it just might rival late nights in the Mustang. Almost.

The Western Washington Fair in Lynden. This was Loretta’s “week-without-brother” treat. She went on the ferris wheel and dizzying teacups, ate a corn dog and mini-donuts, and every inch of that place looks like it did when I went there with my friends in middle school. I like country fairs as much as I used to and marveled at little Loretta, insisting on going solo on some rides. She’s a piece of work.

Picking dirt-encrusted Wyatt up from Fir Creek Day Camp. Another torrent of nostalgia. I went to Fircreek when I was growing up. It was amazing to see him make friends, take risks, and love it as much as I did. How did we get out of that Mustang and into a minivan?! Crazy.