I’m spending the next week at Gudiolo, a beautiful Italian countryside home outside of the small Umbrian village of San Giovanni del Pantano. The week is a visit with my sister, who is travelling throughout Europe this year, and also a farm stay as part of the helpex network. Longtime readers will remember my similar visits to the French goat farm and in Tuscany three summers ago. Although we are working for our room and board, we are also guests of the wonderfully gregarious Madeline, who has so many words of wisdom I feel compelled to follow her around with pen and paper collecting bits of life lessons as we weed the gardens and carry out chores.

In the few days we have been here already, we have seen and done so much. We quickly made ourselves useful on day one, cooking a casual dinner for friends, family, and other helpexers in Madeline’s impressive kitchen, roasting artichokes from the garden into a pilaf and finding a use for the chickpea flour with a Moroccan-style crepe. I’ve been constantly reminded of my mother and grandmother during the morning’s weeding sessions, surrounded by the property’s poppies, something both women loved. Afternoons have been spent walking the family’s beautiful new Maremma puppies, and the landscape is just breathtaking—the hillsides go on for miles and miles in every direction. And we had the lucky opportunity to attend a presentation of the Civetlla Ranieri Foundation’s current fellows, a collection of visual artists, writers, composers, and poets spending a few weeks working in Italy; Melanie and I were both a little star struck to hear regular New Yorker poet Jane Hirshfield read her works.

The plan for the rest of the week is just as exciting. Tonight we are headed into Cortona to pick up Madeline’s daughter for a weekend visit, where we will all enjoy a pizza dinner and possibly look for new summer sandals. Saturday we have a wonderful dinner party for 20 planned, a menu of fresh, light dishes along with a three-piece jazz band. Hopefully there will be time for a visit to a special gelato shop in Perugia, a nearby town, as well. In between all the fun, I’m putting my skills to work trying to help Madeline with her website and blogging, as well as with weeding projects (a great way to work on my tan!), and cooking for the group (which I find so relaxing). All in all, it may not be tanning poolside,  but it is a wonderful break from the rush of work and life in Berlin and really so lovely to get to know these new people, hear their thoughts and perspectives on life, and breath this fresh Italian air.

Melanie and I have been waking up each morning to clear our heads and prepare for the day with some yoga. Looking out of the terrace during my stretches I face the heart-shaped hillside opposite Gudiolo. I find the view to be so positive that I know I will certainly come away from the trip feeling quite rejuvenated and renewed in spirit.

The Dialogue Book Club took off this month (as the actual brick-and-mortar closed up shop in April and the team is re-focusing energies on events in Berlin and e-publishing) so I thought I’d share instead a book that I’ve been particularity smitten with lately. I came across Oma & Bella a few months ago, a heart-warming story of two grandmothers, Polish-born Oma and Lithuanian Bella, who survived the Holocaust’s concentration camps and keep each other company today living together in Berlin. Oma’s granddaughter, Alexa Karolinski, filmed their day-to-day life, much of which revolves around food; the intimate story shows simple scenes of shopping at the market, cleaning produce in their night robes, checking on roasting stews in the late hours, enjoying Berlin’s sunny summer sipping Berliner Weiße, preparing for a dinner party, relaxing after a long day with a snack. Most of the film takes place in the kitchen and the food leaps off the screen—you can almost taste the soup, you want to nibble on the cookies. These woman live and breathe cooking, it’s what keeps them going, all day, every day.

After seeing this dedication to cuisine, I couldn’t wait to get the accompanying cookbook and went to three Berlin stores until I stumbled on it at the wonderful culinary outpost Goldhahn und Sampson. Everyone else can order it here (and I think it would make quite the gift, perhaps for upcoming Mother’s Day). The book is a charming little collection of recipes and illustrations, in both German and English, highlighting traditional Eastern European and Jewish dishes including chopped liver, matzah balls, potato kugel, and gefillte fish. Reading through this simple book is like chatting with an old friend—“the food, at its most fundamental, is made for the pleasure of eating. It represents all of the love and warmth that a grandmother has for her family.” The words could not be more mine if I had written them myself. The recipes are straightforward, and most only call for a few basic pantry ingredients, but they are written with love.

Written by Alexa, the cookbook is an attempt to preserve the food her family grew up with and the memories of these women. I am constantly surprised when I meet someone who is disoriented by the concept of cooking without a recipe, cooking only with what you have, cooking by taste. This is the way that Oma and Bella cook; after years of cooking for their families, their recipes are not specific but are second nature. As Alexa explains it, in order to translate that free-nature way of cooking into a methodology for the cookbook, she spent years cooking with the grandmothers, translating the “handfuls into half cups, the pinches into teaspoons.” I believe anyone that reads a book like this, that comes first from a place where cooking is rooted in second nature, will be more adapt at that kind of cooking.

The book is also full of kind words of wisdom that only can come from grandmothers. On fashion: “Have an outfit for cooking, preferable a fantastic one.” Health advice: “There’s no sickness that can’t be healed by food.” On cooking: “Measuring all this is a bad idea, you have to feel it.” It’s really hard to look at a picture of these sweet women and not smile, not feel warm inside, as if these lovely ladies are your grandmothers. Clearly, as I mentioned, I am smitten. Perhaps because I never really had a chance to cook with my own grandmothers.

Although quite simple, this is a touching book and documentary, both of which I thoroughly recommend, (you can easily stream the film at home), especially if you’ve been as intrigued as I have about the historical and culinary aspects of our life in Berlin.

All winter I listened to Germans (and fellow expats) lament about the weather, complaining about the never ending cold. While I was certainly put off by their negativity about my new home (having weathered a Chicago winter, Berlin’s winter was nothing), I was just as eager as the masses for Spargel season to arrive. I remember eating asparagus soup here as a child and although asparagus is a similarly popular courier of spring in the U.S., there is something very German about the verdant vegetable. Germany even crowns a Spargelkönigin or Asparagus Queen!

The warm weather finally broke last week and with it came asparagus! I happily bought a few bundles to share with our April house guests (including the German preferred white variety). While Spargelsuppe is the dish of my childhood memories, the warm sunny weather called for something cool and refreshing. I’ve been on a tahani dressing kick lately, so I started with that; the earthy, sesame paste offers the creaminess of a mayo-based vinegerette with the added bonus of omega-3 and omega-6 fatty acids. For crunch I used Runkelrübe, which we’ve been getting from our CSA, and I’ve discovered to be sugar beet. Although this tuber looks like a giant red beet, the flesh is white and has a crunchy sweet texture, similar to jicama. Yellow beet or jicama would be a fine substitution if you can’t find sugar beet. All together it’s a lovely, simple, fresh salad and one I have a feeling with become a regular on our table throughout the rest of spargel season (which I just found out ends quite specifically on June 24th, the feast of St. John the Baptist and the date the Germans decide the harvest has lasted long enough).

Tahini Dressing
Serving: 1 cup
1 shallot, minced
3 tablespoons tahini
4 tablespoons olive oil
7 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 tablespoon water
Salt
Freshly cracked black pepper

In a medium-sized bowl, whisk together the shallot, tahini, olive oil, vinegar, and water until mixture is smooth. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Asparagus-Beet Salad with Tahini Dressing
Serving: 4 people
1 bunch asparagus, stems trimmed
1/2 sugar beet, julienned
2 tablespoons Tahini Dressing

Bring a medium pot of salted water to a boil. Blanch the asparagus, cooking for about 8 minutes until tender. Shock in ice water and drain. Slice on a bias to 1/2-inch pieces.

In a medium-sized bowl, combine the asparagus, beets and dressing. Toss to combine and enjoy.

I spent a few weeks last month eating my way through Berlin’s doughnuts, going from bakery to bakery in a search for the best pfannkuchen. Tough job, I know. Although most people are familiar with the JFK Berliner story, the infamous jelly doughnut is actually called pfannkuchen in Germany’s capital, and goes by a variety of names in Central and Southern Germany. But whatever it’s called, these fluffy, jam-filled doughnuts are delicious.

Although you can find them all over the city, I searched out the best, deeply fried with bright cherry or deep plum filling. I’m still dreaming about the crispy doughnuts from Bäckerei & Konditori W. Balzer, one of my top places in the city so far for German baked goods of any kind. Their pretzel shaped doughnuts were just plain fun and the pfannkuchen were incredible, light and airy, not too sweet, and deep golden brown . For the rest of my favorite finds and more pfannkuchen information, check out my piece for Serious Eats.

I had to make some caramel sauce last week for my latest How-To on Snooth Eats, and I immediately wanted to pair it with some of the apples I received from my first CSA pick-up here in Berlin (more on that to come!). Wilde Gärtnerei harvested these apples last fall, keeping them in a cool storeroom to help feed their community all winter. The apples are surprisingly still crisp enough to eat raw, but I wanted to bake.

I ended up playing with a favorite banana bread recipe, subbing in caramel sauce for most of the sugar and using grated apple instead of the mashed banana. The result, a rich, moist cake, was phenomenal—I can’t wait to make it again. The caramel gives a slightly bittersweet undertone, the apples create a moist crumb, and walnuts are always a nice crunch. I forgot to add cinnamon into the batter, so I sprinkled a line down the center with some brown sugar for the perfect crust.

Caramel, apples, walnuts, sounds pretty fall, huh? Well, it’s still pretty chilly here in Berlin, so this bread was a nice, comforting treat and a hit with our house guests. It’s delicious anytime of the year, but if you have better weather than Berlin and are already enjoying the sweet fruits of spring, save this recipe as a pick-me-up for a cloudy day.

Caramel-Apple Bread
Serving: 1 9×5 loaf pan, 8 to 10 slices

3 apples, peeled and grated
¼ cup brown butter, cool
¼ cup sugar
½ cup caramel sauce
2 eggs
1 teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
1½ cups all-purpose flour
½ cup toasted and chopped walnuts
Cinnamon and sugar for topping

Preheat an oven to 176°C/350°F.

In a mixing bowl, mash together the apples and brown butter. Mix in the sugar, caramel, and eggs until completely combined, then add in the baking soda and salt. Fold the flour in last. Grease a 9X5 loaf pan and pour the batter inside. Smooth top with the back of a spoon and sprinkle some cinnamon and sugar down the center.

Bake for 45 to 50 minutes, until the top is golden brown and a toothpick pressed into the center comes out clean. Cool for 15 minutes, then remove from pan and cool completely.

I’ve been meeting with a lot of people in Berlin, getting to know other journalists and food-focused friends-of-friends as I find my way here. A few weeks ago I had coffee with a photographer and videographer who spends his time working on documentaries and heading up an NGO focused on education outreach. When the topic turned to me, writing about new restaurants, decadent meals, and exciting ingredients seemed a little trivial, especially in context of the larger picture.

While I do feel that the stories of chefs, producers, food culture, and time-honored recipes are important, Raj Patel shows the other importance of food writing in his book Stuffed and Starved, the second I’ve read for Dialogue’s book club. Patel, a journalist, activist and academic, discusses the politics and economics of the global food system as well as its influences on sustainability, poverty, and communities at the root of food production.

Stuffed and Starved takes a hard look at the disparity in the food system in a clear and fluid way, helping to make the statistics and facts Patel presents digestible. I can’t say that this is an easy book to read, but I do think it is a great introduction to these very important topics and worth digging into.

I’ve become more and more aware of the effects of agriculture on the environment, and know the difference in taste between small farm produce and commodity crops. While these topics are covered in the book, I think the most eye opening is Patel’s explanation on the human cost of food production and the inequality in the food system. Whether it’s Ugandan farmers being paid pennies for coffee beans that earn mass conglomerates multitudes more; Mexico’s agricultural economy, which has suffered severely as a result of NAFTA and the importation of low cost, subsidized products; or a slew of farmer suicides everywhere from China to the U.S., Patel shows that the global food system can be extremely costly.

When thinking about these heavy topics, a first thought might be that changing shopping habits in order to support ethical and sustainable systems can be too costly. When searching the shelves of mega-grocery stores with their array of inexpensive, mass produced goods, organic and Fair Trade is always more expensive. But when you think about that added price going towards the people who produced the products, the choice seems like a no brainer. No one wants to work for less then they deserve, and yet people around the world do just that in order to produce food for our tables.

We were luckily enough to have Patel join in on our book club meeting (via Skype). He was extremely charismatic and deeply passionate about the topics, talking about these serious issues in a conversational way that drew you in. After his call, the group discussed the book, and our personal reactions to it, a little more in depth. It was so great to hear from the author firsthand, and to also speak with this group in Berlin—expats from all over the world and Germans—to see how this information sits on the mind. Although change is difficult, both in our personal choices and on the global level, understanding the who’s, what’s, and why’s of our food helps make those decisions all the more clear. For someone interested in looking at the serious affects of the global food system, I thoroughly recommend this book.

As I made the move to Berlin, my StarChefs workmate Emily also made a move, to Snooth Eats, where she’s running the editorial coverage. The website features great wine tips along with an interesting mix of recipes, food news, and cooking knowledge, so it was easy to say yes when she asked if I would contribute some how-to recipes. As you can probably tell from this site, I love to write and test recipes, so it’s exciting for me to have another venue to do it for.

My first contribution are these delicious “Thin Mint” style cookies. It’s a recipe I started playing around with when I worked at Bastide in Los Angeles; the final course of our tasting menu was a sweet bite that we bagged and gave as a take-home treat. We made a variety of cookies and sweets, but these mint cookies were one of my favorite items.

The cookie is a slightly sweetened pate brisée, which gives a nice flaky bite. I add mint extract to both the cookie dough and chocolate covering, so they end up super infused with minty flavor. To make your own batch, check out the recipe and baking tips on Snooth Eats. I think they’d make a fabulous addition to Easter basket treats!

If you’re a follower of this blog, then you may have noticed I’m a big fan of citrus. Lemons, tangerines, limes, kumquats, oranges—I love winter’s citrusy bounty. So when I came across this grapefruit cake earlier in the week, I knew it wouldn’t be long until I made it myself. We have company coming in April—TH’s parents are joining us in Berlin for a month that promises to be full of fun—so I’ve been stocking the freezer with snacks that will keep us all happily fed during slower moments. This cake fits the bill perfectly; it’s packed with bright, floral grapefruit flavor and has a super moist crumb, thanks in part to an after-bake, grapefruit syrup soak.

Pound cake gets its name from a simple ratio of ingredients, which also makes it one of the easiest recipes to memorize; the basic recipes calls for equal parts butter, sugar, eggs, and flour. I’ve cut the sugar here slightly—wanting more of a toasted breakfast pastry rather than after dinner treat—and the addition of yogurt lends a nice, tart flavor and helps create that moist crumb. Pound cake also keeps rather well in the freezer, toasting up again quite nicely. We’ve already nibbled on a piece, and it’s quite delicious, but the rest will go into storage until April. Perhaps next time, I’ll  split the recipe in half and bake two mini-loafs, one to eat and one to save!

Grapefruit Pound Cake, adapted from Smitten Kitchen
1 large grapefruit, zested and juiced
1 cup sugar, plus 1 tablespoon
6 ounces butter, room temperature
3 eggs
1 cup Greek yogurt
1½ cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt

Preheat the oven to 350°F/175°C. Grease a loaf pan and dust with flour.

In the bowl of a stand mixer, combine the grapefruit zest and sugar. Paddle mixture together for one minute to release the oil in the zest. Add the butter and mix together on medium speed for 5 minutes, until the mixture is light in color and fluffy. While mixing, sift the flour, baking soda, and salt together in a separate bowl. In another bowl, whisk together the eggs and yogurt. When butter-sugar mixture is creamy, reduce mixing speed and add one-third of the liquids. Combine until smooth, scraping down the sides as necessary. Repeat with one-third of the dry ingredients, then continue with wet and dry ingredients until all of the mixture is combined.

Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan. Bake for 50 to 55 minutes, until the center is fully set. While baking, heat the grapefruit juice and remaining 1 tablespoon sugar until the sugar dissolves. When cake is finished, cool for 10 minutes, then carefully place on a cooling rack over a sheet tray. Pour the grapefruit syrup over the cake and cool.

I’ve been thinking a lot about bread lately, and hoping to make more of it at home. An easy start is Irish Soda bread, which is actually more cake then bread. The quick dough is leavened with baking soda (thus its name), and the classic is very simple, a white or whole-wheat flour bread with a soft crumb and noticeable flavor from the baking soda. The version most Americans are familiar with is more like this recipe, and includes sugar, egg, sweet currants or raisins, and caraway seed. Buttermilk helps keep the bread moist and gives a nice tart flavor.

I’ve also become really fond of the German habit of eating muesli in the morning and I thought adding it to the bread would make a nice flavor addition. Sort of my German spin on the Irish tradition.

This post is coming a bit late for Sunday’s St. Patrick’s Day, but luckily Irish Soda bread is incredibly easy to make – mixing and baking takes all of an hour. Of course, if you don’t have time this weekend, it’s delicious anytime of year. Enjoy!

Irish Soda Bread, adapted from the New York Times
Serving: 1 loaf
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup sugar
1½ teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons butter, cubed
2/3 cup buttermilk, plus extra for brushing
1 egg
2/3 cup raisins
1½ teaspoons caraway seeds
1/2 cup museli

Preheat the oven to 425°F.

Combine the flour, sugar, baking soda, and salt in a mixing bowl. Using two forks or a pastry cutter, cut in the cubed butter until a sandy mixture forms. Break up any large pieces of butter with you fingers. Add in the buttermilk and egg and mix until a shaggy dough forms. Stir in the raisins, caraway seeds, and museli.

Turn dough out onto a lightly floured workspace and knead for a few turns, until the dough forms into a nice ball. Place rounded dough on a lined baking tray. Use kitchen sheers or a sharp knife to mark an X in the center off the dough, brush the top with buttermilk, and dust gently in flour.

Bake for 50 minutes, until it is a deep brown. The bottom should sound hollow when tapped. Transfer to a rack and cool completely. Enjoy with a large smear of rich Irish butter.

The Fernet-laced Hanky Panky from Mixologist Kevin Diedrich of Jasper’s Corner Tap & Kitchen - San Francisco, CA

During my trip to the Bay Area last October, I was surprised to find out that Fernet is a cult San Francisco barkeepers drink. I’m no booze expert, but I worked in restaurants for years, and have since interviewed tons of mixologists. How did this fact escape me?

Disregarding my ignorance, I was happy to find out because I love Fernet, a bitter Italian digestive similar to an amaro. Made from over 40 herbs, spices, and other ingredients, the liquor is aged in oak barrels to develop its distinct herbaceous flavor. And believe me it’s distinct, one part menthol, one part acid bomb. Some hate it, but apparently San Francisco loves it: mixologists there have been throwing back shots of the bitter for years and it’s said the Bay Area accounts for 25 percent of Fernet Branca sales in the U.S. alone.

Lucky for me, we tasted a number of Fernet-spiked drinks during our trip, including Kevin Deidtrich’s seductive Hanky Panky at Jasper’s Corner Tap and Brian Means’ lovely ode to the drink at the Fifth Floor. We also learned about a slew of new Fernets coming onto the market, including the lovely Leopold Fernet from Denver-based distiller Leopold Brother’s.

Read all about my Fernet exploration in my latest feature for StarChefs.com. What do you think about Fernet? Love it? Hate it?