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.

I’ve had a scrambled week. I’m definitely entering a new season in my life, and a bit unprepared. Sort of like being caught in a downpour with a wool sweater on. I was going to say, “Caught in a downpour without an umbrella,” but that wouldn’t be bothersome for Seattleites. We never carry umbrellas. But wet wool sweaters? That happens to us all the time, and it stinks.

One necessary evil lately is having to work in the morning while the kids watch cartoons. (If you care about me, please don’t send any links to stories about screen time.) And they’ve been getting toast and fruit for breakfast while I drink my coffee standing up. This morning, though–Sunday morning, kids coming down with colds, Yancey at the station–I put down my work to make doughnuts. I don’t want them to feel entirely neglected. And nothing says, “Your mother loves you more than she loves her iPhone” like deep-frying. Deep-frying and rolling in sugar, no less.

One of our favorite rituals is getting the hot cinnamon-y doughnuts at Pike Place Market. These days, the secret is out, and there’s often a line snaking down the center of the market. I don’t think I can beat those, but you won’t have to get on the train or pay for parking when you make these. And they don’t have ginger ones.

I could really take up your day by stopping to talk about ginger–fresh, candied, dried. And its limitless, delicious uses in smoothies, cookies, cakes, curries, soups, tea. I always have a few big knobs in my produce drawer and a bag of crystallized ginger in the pantry. Unfortunately, my children aren’t quite as keen on it. Sugar all over his face, Wyatt said, “Mom, thanks for the awesome breakfast. Minus the ginger.” It didn’t stop them, though.

Gingered Doughnuts
Adapted from my green Gourmet cookbook. This recipe makes about 40 small doughnuts. I halved it. I used my cast iron skillet for deep frying and a candy thermometer to make sure the oil was hot enough. When you test it, make the sure the tip doesn’t rest on the bottom of the pan. It will melt (not that I’ve learned the hard way or anything). You can certainly make these doughnuts without the candied and dried ginger. Or roll them in sugar and cinnamon instead of sugar and dried ginger. This dough is easy to make and easy to work with. The hardest part about these is making sure the oil doesn’t get too hot or too cool and making sure you don’t eat the entire batch.

4 cups all-purpose flour plus additional for dusting
4 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 1/2 teaspoons ground ginger
1 3/4 cups sugar
2 oz crystalized ginger, finely chopped (1/3 cup)
3/4 cup well-shaken buttermilk
1/2 stick (1/4 cup) unsalted butter, melted and cooled slightly
2 large eggs
10 cups vegetable oil

For dredging mixture, whisk together 1 cup sugar and  3/4 teaspoon ground ginger in a shallow bowl.

Whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, 3/4 c sugar, and 3/4 teaspoon ground ginger in a large bowl.

Whisk buttermilk, butter, and eggs until smooth, then buttermilk mixture to flour mixture and stir until a dough forms (dough will be sticky).

Turn out dough onto a well-floured surface and knead gently just until it comes together, 10 to 12 times, then form into a ball. Lightly dust work surface and dough with flour, then roll out dough into a 13-inch round (about 1/3 inch thick) with a floured rolling pin. Cut out 3/4″ rounds with floured cutter and transfer to a lightly floured baking sheet. Gather scraps and reroll, then cut out additional rounds. (Reroll only once.)

Heat oil in a wide 5-quart heavy pot until thermometer registers 375°F. Working in batches of 7 or 8 (or 4 or 5 if you’re using a cast iron skillet), carefully add rounds, 1 at a time, to oil and fry, turning over once, until golden brown, 1 1/2 to 2 minutes total per batch. (Return oil to 375°F between batches.) Transfer to paper towels to drain. Cool slightly, then dredge in ginger sugar.

Came home at 4:30 yesterday, cooked dinner for my family, then left again at 5:45 for an evening meeting. For you non-city-dwellers, that’s a lot of driving in Seattle. At the worst times. Yancey could have easily fed himself and the kids, and I could have gone out for sushi or tacos by myself. But then I would have missed our chaotic little foursome–kids complaining about vegetables, Loretta spilling her bubble water, and me gushing with news about my iPhone (believe all the good things you hear).

Here’s the sort of thing I cook on those nights. Some chopping, a tiny bit of cooking, a lot of nourishment. Made possible by a trip to the produce stand last weekend where I stocked up on several random things without a plan.

P.S. Loved all your tips and cautions about counting calories. I ran into a reader at the gym this morning. She said, “So, will you be all about diet recipes now?” An emphatic “NO!” My philosophy and style isn’t changing, and I don’t plan on counting calories forever. It has been very instructive, though, to start recognizing the mindless morsels that end up in my mouth throughout the day.

Weeknight Couscous Bowl
Scrounge in your fridge for anything that might taste good atop a bowl of warm couscous. I did julienned yellow peppers, crumbled feta, sunflower seeds, red jalapéno rings, zucchini quickly sauteed in garlic and olive oil, baked tofu, shredded carrots, green onions, and lemon slices. Then I mixed up a little yogurt dressing–1 c. plain yogurt, 1 minced garlic clove, a squeeze of lemon, salt, red pepper flakes. You could also add some tahini if you have it. Put all the toppings in the middle of the table and give everyone a bowl of couscous. (For 4 people, boil 3 c. water with a bit of salt and butter. Once water has boiled, take off heat. Add 3 c. whole wheat couscous, stir, cover, and let sit for 5 minutes. Take lid off, fluff with a fork.)