Alpha Bakers -- Pizza Rustica

"But it's not a pizza!"

Wise words from a friend, as she watched me roll out a rich tart dough with thyme. In fact, she was so concerned that she flipped back through the book to check the picture.

"Nope, definitely not a pizza. That's a quiche."

While its pizza status might be debate-able (this delicacy is also known as a 'ham pie,' I'm told), the tart's appeal isn't up for debate, as long as you are craving a solid rich hit of cheese, sausage, and flaky crust. 

What this pie (pizza) is, is sturdy. Baked in a 9"x2" cake tin, a firm crust surrounds a rich filling of sopressata layered with mozzarella and a ricotta/egg custard. I had slightly less mozzarella than needed so I slipped in a little gruyere and goat boucheron. Whenever I have a party I stash a bunch of leftover cheese bits in the freezer for just this sort of occasion, and I'm working very hard on bringing the freezer back down to a manageable capacity right now, so that worked out well.

I served the pie in conjunction with some buckwheat waffles (yeast-raised, Marion Cunningham-style) and blackberry jam, so it never had a chance with me, but the others who ate it were big fans, and it was so easy to make, transport, and cut, that I will definitely be making versions of it again. Hearty and sturdy.

Heavenly Cake Bakers: Blizzard Cranberry Crown

Photo by Matt Korahais.

Can you guess what a girl like me does in a post-Christmas blizzard? If you guessed 'bakes herself silly,' you'd be on the right track. The last few days have been a lot of wind, a lot of snow, and a lot of time in the kitchen (and on the couch). Among the things baked was the Cranberry Crown Cheesecake, above. I get a lot of pleasure out of making ladyfingers, and the ones above were no exception, but I am not sure I'm on board with using them to line a cheesecake--it feels like the bottom ones always get awfully soggy.

Here's where I confess: this isn't Rose's Cranberry Crown cheesecake at all, it just looks like it. Blizzard ingredient imperatives forced me to make several substitutions, so while the ladyfingers are as advertised, and the cranberry crown is intact, the cheesecake itself, meant to be composed of cream cheese and sour cream, is actually made of ricotta and buttermilk. Although this made for a wetter mixture (probably a factor in the sogginess of the bottom), the result tasted good. Some of the bottom ladyfingers did float up, giving it an odd 'pond filled with floating logs' appearance, but we're just calling that a creative take on the buche de Noel. I only made a six-inch cake (1/3 of the recipe) but there's plenty left, as Matt and I are over sweets and craving savory. Anyone want some?

New Hampshire: Every County Blue (and the squash ain't bad)

I may have mentioned that on Joe and Nicki's last visit, they brought us a lot of presents from the garden. There were eggs, pesto, their company, and last but not least, a great big spaghetti squash.

Spaghetti squash has always baffled me, and without ever really eating it or attempting to cook it, I've always been a little averse. Never tempted to cook it. I think one of the reasons for this is that most things that can be done with it are such homey dishes that they rarely hit restaurant menus or fancy food magazines of the sort I'm trying to cut down on. People usually toss the glassy strands with butter and nutmeg, or top with tomato sauce. Nothing fancy.

However, it is a favorite with many, and for one reason or another never made it to the top of my list to try. That all changed when this recipe started making the blog rounds--see, I told you it was incestuous. I first saw it on the kitchn, and it has migrated around since. For me, it was perfect, as the two things I had wasting away were the two main ingredients, spaghetti squash and fresh ricotta.

I baked the squash (for much longer than recommended, it was much larger), forked it, mixed it up with sage and garlic and ricotta, and had dinner at 11:30 pm. Did you catch the part earlier about the squash baking much, much longer than I had anticipated? Yeah. Lucky there was more ricotta left so I could have my dessert pancakes while I waited.

Oh yes, and it was good. Very good. If the ricotta holds, there might be leftovers, if not, I have the stringy flesh of the whole other half of the squash to play with. Nutmeg and butter sounds very very good. Thanks again, New Hampshire. Every county blue (thanks to the hard work of Matt, Joe, Nicki, and so many others), and squash to boot.