Oh no. Here comes Sarah comes with all the greens and grains again. Tough. Somebody’s got to be on Fiber Patrol.

If I have my act together, I like to make a big ol’ sturdy salad on the weekends. Pasta, couscous, bean. In the last year, I’ve been into chewy, complex carbs like barley, farro, and wheat berries. They hold up a long time, stay in separate grains, and will keep your firefighter husband full for his sexy work. He HATES it when I talk about him here, and would prefer I stick to my “Don’t Bore Your Readers with Cloying Stories about your Husband” rule. But I love to picture him in his navy uniform and duty boots, jumping off the rig to help someone. I’ve never considered myself one of those people that swoons over men in uniform, but that was before I saw Yancey in one.

And I can’t think of anyone I’d rather see in an emergency. I have a few friends that have had to call 9-1-1 lately. They report feeling very connected to the first responders who traipsed into their houses. Such vulnerability in that moment–it really matters what those first few minutes are like. Lucky, those residents in the square miles around Yancey’s station. And lucky he’s got a cooking fool for a wife. Just doing my part.

I have made countless versions of this salad, using what’s around or whatever designer grain everyone’s eating. The dressing is what makes this one memorable–preserved lemons, a harissa spice blend I got at World Spice Merchants. There’s an eensy weensy chance you might not have those in your pantry, so just sub lemon juice and smoked paprika. If you don’t have smoked paprika…Well, then. Rectify that.

Here’s to all the folks in the world who need to be fortified for their hard work–parents, daycare workers, bus drivers, restaurant staff, teachers, utility workers, architects, nurses, contractors, and yes–those sexy first responders.

Moroccan Grains and Greens Salad
This will keep in your fridge for a good 5 days. Once it gets cold, I find it needs a little drizzle of olive oil and another sprinkle of salt. And the feta is optional. I adore feta and am always looking for a reason to eat it, but Yancey could take it or leave it.

2 c. whole grain (barley, Israeli couscous, farro, etc.)
4 c. finely chopped leafy grains (kale, collards, mustard greens)
1 bunch curly parsley, stemmed, washed, and coarsely chopped
3 large carrots, peeled and grated
1/2 c. coarsely chopped green olives
1/2  c. coarsely chopped Kalamata olives
1/2 c. sunflower seeds, raw or roasted
1 c. halved cherry or grape tomatoes
1/2 c. crumbled feta

For dressing:
2 cloves minced garlic
3 Tb. chopped preserved lemon (or 1 Tb. lemon zest)
4 Tb. liquid from preserved lemon (or juice of one lemon)
2 Tb. Harissa paste or dried Harissa spice blend (or smoked paprika)
Tb. honey
1/2 c. olive oil
freshly ground pepper
kosher salt (only if you didn’t use preserved lemon liquid, which is very salty)

To cook the grain, put a big pot of water on the stove to boil. Dump in a healthy dose of salt and add the grain. Cook until tender, depending on the grain. I used barley this week (45 minutes) and Israeli couscous the next (10 minutes). Drain and rinse with cold water.

Combine cooked grain with all the other ingredients.

To make dressing, whisk together. everything but olive oil. Add olive oil in a stream, adding more of anything to taste. Pour over salad and gently mix.

If you want a much better history and description of these treasures, click over to Orangette. I’m just here to testify.

My testimonial: regular buttermilk pancakes don’t tempt me anymore. They’re so…what’s the word? Oatmeal-less. Disappointingly fluffy. I’m always after texture–crunchy, chewy, crispy, toothsome. My default pancakes don’t have any butter in them, though you’d never know it. These have a whole cube. Is that a plus or a minus? And I love how they get all lacy around the edges and beautifully golden all over.

Here’s the fine print, though–you have to start them the night before. But wait! Don’t close your browser! Just throw two cups of old-fashioned oats in a bowl, add two cups of buttermilk, stir and cover, put in the fridge. The next morning, add a bit of flour, melted butter, leavening and eggs. 2 minutes. And who are we kidding? Like I don’t start thinking about the next day’s breakfast right after dinner is over.

One of the things I love about pancakes is that you can have that industrious, Prairie Home Companion feeling of making something from scratch without too much effort. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I haven’t been churning out a bunch of creative meals lately. Toast for breakfast, cottage cheese and crackers for lunch, burritos for dinner. I don’t feel bad about it, especially when I think of these pancakes, just waiting to fortify us again.

Oatmeal Pancakes
Lifted straight off Orangette. These have frozen blueberries in them, which I didn’t stir into the batter, but dropped one-by-one onto the cooking pancakes before I flipped them.

2 cups rolled oats
2 cups buttermilk
½ cup all-purpose flour
2 Tbsp. sugar
1 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
½ tsp. table salt
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted but not hot
Vegetable oil or spray, for greasing the pan
Maple syrup, for serving

The night before:
Combine the oats and buttermilk in a medium bowl. Stir to mix. Cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate overnight.

The morning of:
Take the bowl of buttermilk and oats out of the fridge. Set aside.

In another medium bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Set aside.

Add the eggs and melted butter to the oat mixture, and stir well. Add the flour mixture, and stir to blend. The batter will be very thick.

Warm a large nonstick skillet or griddle over medium-high heat, and brush (or spray) with vegetable oil. To make sure it’s hot enough, wet your fingers under the tap and sprinkle a few droplets of water onto the pan. If they sizzle, it’s ready. Scoop the batter, about a scant ¼ cup at a time, onto the pan, taking care not to crowd them. When the underside is nicely browned and the top looks set around the edges, flip the pancakes. Cook until the second side has browned.

Re-grease the skillet, and repeat with more batter. If you find that the pancakes are browning too quickly, dial the heat back to medium.

Serve hot, with maple syrup.

Yield: about 12 pancakes, or 3 to 4 servings

This was my favorite thing I ate this week. Yancey was at Pike Place with Loretta, and I called to ask if he’d pick up some fish for dinner. Being the sensible, thrifty (and cute, though that has nothing to do with this) person that he is, he said, “We have so much food at home right now.” Meaning, “Can’t you do something with that fridge of ours that’s stuffed with unintelligible remnants?” Why, yes, actually. I can.

By the way, while I’m not the subject, I have to break one of blog rules right now, which is “Don’t Bore Your Readers with Cloying Stories about How Sweet Your Husband Is.” He has been amazing lately–cooking dinner, asking for Honey-Do lists, being Super Dad, and cheering me on with all his might as I work on building my consulting practice. Lately, more than ever, I really feel we are partners, in synch with one another and working hard.

Okay. Back to regularly scheduled programming. If your life has been anything like mine lately, you might appreciate this healthy, (relatively) quick, and thrifty meal. I have often roasted ratatouille in a deeper pan, which causes the veggies to steam. Still delicious, but this is my new thing. I’d love it if it became your new thing.

Rapid Rataouille
Preheat oven to 425. Cut 4 medium zucchini, 1 large yellow onion, 2 yellow bell peppers, and 6 roma tomatoes into uniform large-ish pieces and put onto a baking sheet. Add one pound of baby red potatoes, halved. Take a whole head of garlic and separate it into peeled cloves. Scatter the cloves over vegetables. Pour 1/4 c. best-quality olive oil over the whole thing and add very generous pinches of kosher salt and grindings of pepper. Gently stir. Roast for about 45 minutes, stirring once, until veggies have crisped up around the edges and everything is all olive-oily-oozy. Chop up some fresh rosemary or parsley, finely grate a little parmesan, zest a lemon, and mix these up together. Sprinkle over your hot ratatouille.

What’s my deal with white food lately? Chicken and rice, doughnuts, snickerdoodle muffins, and now these. Maybe it’s some sort of subterranean longing for plain, uncomplicated things.

I found this recipe in a magazine at the gym, and now I can’t remember if it was Family Circle, Woman’s Day…one of those free subscriptions that show up in all gyms and doctors’ offices. I get a gut “I-know-that’s-a-good-recipe” feeling sometimes. I had that feeling about these cookies and couldn’t wait to see if I was right.

Loretta and I needed a project yesterday. She’d put up with my working, my distraction, and being hauled around town. For both our sakes, I needed to focus on her for a bit. She measured, stirred, and industriously spread flour from one end of the kitchen to the other. When Wyatt and Loretta ate these cookies after dinner last night, they literally started dancing. Wyatt said, “If I had a bigger thumb, I’d use it for a thumbs up right now.” I had considered spicing these up with cardamom, lemon zest, or almond extract. In the end, I opted for a big thumbs up instead. Kids always want plain, uncomplicated things. In this case, they’re on to something.

These are moist little cookie cakes, and almost look like drop biscuits when they’re baking up, toasty crags on top. The ricotta acts like sour cream or yogurt might, giving a slight tartness, softness, and body. And I love dipping them in the icing rather than spreading it. Genius. If you dip the center of the barely warm cookies into the icing, the icing sticks perfectly and spreads just enough down the sides of the cake.

“Simpler is better” is a message I’m hearing in many forms lately, from clients, friends, kids, from my husband who’s always telling me to relax. The other day he made a list. One one side was “Yancey’s Stressors.” Two things. My column went all the way down the page. Thank God there’s only one of me. And it’s too bad simpler is sometimes harder. If you’re feeling that way, drop everything and make these cookies.

Ricotta Mini Cakes
Makes 2 dozen. Even though I just gave a sermonette on simplicity, don’t let that stop you. I’m not the last word (don’t tell my kids that). I imagine Meyer lemon with these. Or so many other things.

2 1/4 c. flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. baking powder
1/8 tsp. salt
1/2 c. unsalted butter, softened
1 c. granulated sugar
1 c. ricotta cheese
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla
2 c. powdered sugar
3 Tb. milk

Preheat oven to 350 and lightly grease two baking sheets (or line with parchment).

Whisk flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt.

Beat butter and granulated sugar together until blended. Add ricotta, egg, and vanilla and beat until blended. On low speed, add flour mixture. Drop by tablespoonfuls onto cookie sheets and bake until golden brown around the edges, about 14 minutes. Let cool on sheets for a few minutes, then place them on a cooling rack to cool completely.

For glaze, whisk powdered sugar and milk until smooth. Dip centers of cookies in–glaze will slowly spread down the sides. Let glaze harden.

Have you been making this all these years and keeping it from me? Where have I been? Growing up, we hardly ever ate chicken, but occasionally we’d have this–plump chicken nestled in creamy, soft rice, so comforting you’d just want to climb in the pan and stay a child forever. But, alarmingly, I’ve never made it “for my kids” before tonight.

We’re in a retro phase around here. Turns out, meat is easy. Steaks? Throw them in a cast iron skillet with a little butter, turn them after five minutes, and not even the most laboriously layered lasagna can hold a candle. I haven’t always felt this way about steaks. Ask my friends–they’ll testify to my constantly changing (and loudly pronounced) opinions. I used to say things like, “Steak is so boring. And not even that good. I don’t see what the big deal is.” Do-over. Big time. I see what the big deal is, and Bob’s Quality Meats wraps up a mean tri-tip.

Chicken and rice fits nicely into the retro phase.  Take your BFF Dutch oven down. Brown some boneless, skinless thighs, throw in thinly sliced onions and lots of garlic.  Add rice and chicken stock, cover it, and be Super Mom in 35 minutes.

I’m not one to idealize the past (the days before washing machines and cute maternity clothes? No thanks.), but I could go for a few other retro things. Jerry Seinfeld doesn’t use his cell phone in the car anymore. He said, “What’s so wrong with 1985?” Indeed. Stirrup pants, Cosby Show, friendship pins, chicken and rice. I am up for that.

Inner Child Chicken with Rice
From Greg Atkinson’s West Coast Cooking, which I’m borrowing from my Mom and really like. No photos, but great, straightforward recipes, local ingredients, and interesting narrative. I find I’m often attracted to no-photo cookbooks. Takes the pressure off. He titles this “Mom’s Chicken with Rice,” and uses 1 c. white wine and 3 c. chicken stock. I didn’t have any white wine, so only used chicken stock. Still delicious, but wine wouldn’t hurt.

6 large boneless chicken thighs (or 8 small ones)
1 Tb. kosher salt
1 tsp. freshly ground pepper
1/4 c. olive oil
1 medium onion, peeled and thinly sliced
2 cups long-grain white rice (like basmati)
4 cloves minced garlic
1 bay leaf
1 Tb. fresh thyme plus more for top
1 c. white wine
3 c. chicken stock

Sprinkle chicken with salt and pepper. In a Dutch oven over medium-high heat, brown the chicken pieces in the oil, turning them several times to brown on all sides, about 7 minutes in all.

Pull the chicken out of the pan and set aside. In the oil, saute the onion until it is soft and slightly browned. Stir in the rie, garlic, bay leaf, and thyme, then pour in the white wine and chicken stock and bring the liquid to a boil.

Put the chicken pieces back in the pot, reduce the heat to low, and cover. Simmer until the rice has absorbed the cooking liquid and the chicken is cooked through, about 35 minutes. Serve hot, sprinkled with more fresh thyme.