The crust is made of herbs and flavors that pair well with the lamb: olive oil, lemon juice & zest, garlic, fresh mint and loads of fresh parsley. The garlic & herbs are chopped and then pureed with the olive oil, lemon juice, lemon zest. After that, stir the herb paste into some fresh bread crumbs and set aside.

The rack of lamb is frenched (the butcher will do this for you) and then seared on the fatty side. After letting it cool for 10 minutes, spread a layer of Greek style yogurt over the fat and then press the crust on with your fingers. Roast in the oven at 400 degrees until the internal temperature is 125 degrees for medium rare. Let rest for 10 minutes before slicing so that the juices will redistribute within the meat and not be left only on the cutting board.

The accompanying vegetables are handled in three steps. First, slice spring onions in half and place cut-side down in a large pan coated with live oil. Cook until onion is dark brown, but not black. Then turn over and add about 3 tablespoons of butter. Next, add halved new red potatoes, morel mushrooms and chopped chervil. Stir so that all vegetables are covered with melted butter. Finally, add 2 cups of chicken stock and let simmer for about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.  The vegetables will become tender and the liquid will reduce to a silky sauce.

Lamb always seems special on its own because it’s not as common a dish in the United States as it is abroad. However, it’s really the ingredients that make the braised vegetables special. Spending the extra few dollars on the morels and looking a little harder for the chervil (it’s very hard to find) makes a substantial difference in the flavor.

Serve family style and celebrate the rebirth of my career!

Many of you know that I have gone back to work. I was offered a great job that I am excited to have been doing for about a month now although, there hadn’t been much time to celebrate until last weekend when my grandparents from Minneapolis came to visit.

So, this dish was a great celebration and one that will send my little blog off on a high note…at least for a while.

My Mom!

This Mother’s Day, I have prepared a culinary tribute to my mom. She is the most amazing kind of woman, one whom I aspire to be like every day. That’s right Mumma, this one’s for you!

My whole life, the most common summer supper at my house has been a cold pasta salad. The flavors are bright and clean. The colors are reminiscent of a garden growing in summer. The dressing is Kraft Zesty Italian.

Pasta is Italian for “dough”. The origin of this versatile and miraculous staple is mostly unknown. Nearly every culture has some form of dough made from a mixture of flour and water, cooked and accompanied by other ingredients, often by a sauce. Some sauces are tomato based, like marinara. Others are egg based, like carbonara. Accompaniments can be vegetables, shellfish, chicken, nearly anything really.

This particular recipe for pasta salad isn’t known to be French or middle eastern, or of any specific culture. If memory serves, I think my mom found it printed on the bottle of the Kraft Zesty Italian dressing in the 80s. So, it seems this dish originated in the kitchen of the American Working Mother.

To prepare, boil pasta until al dente, and then immediately cool by running under cold water. Steam broccoli. Cook peas. All measurements are to taste, as usual. Cool the broccoli and peas in the same manner as pasta. It’s important to stop the cooking process, so that the vegetables do not become overcooked and mushy.

Toss vegetables and pasta in a large bowl. Add sliced cucumber, sliced green onion, sliced mushrooms, small black olives (Niçoise, the kind in the can) and sliced smoked sausage. Now, toss all ingredients together with the secret ingredient: Kraft Zesty Italian Salad Dressing. Chill in the fridge while you call your mother.

My unemployed doom & gloom seems to be growing at an exponential rate. This is a refreshing change from my bank account which is shrinking at an exponential rate. Overall, I think it’s a case for comfort food.

This is a recipe from the famous french chef, Jacques Pepin. I happened to see him on PBS last weekend, and I also have his book on technique. When inexpensive comfort food became my objective, this recipe became my solution.

Start by cleaning the leeks. This is actually quite involved and should be done with plenty of care. Slice off most of the dark green tops and also the end of the bulb. Then slice in half lengthwise, and open up the layers with your thumbs so that you can wash out all of the dirt. Use one large leek or two smaller ones.

Slice each half leek into half moon slices and place in pot with butter. Sweat the leeks while you dice a handful of mushrooms. Stir mushrooms into leeks and cook for a few more minutes.

Add 4 cups of liquid. I used 2 cups of chicken stock, 1 cup water, and 1 cup white wine. You could just as easily use all chicken stock (that’s what JP’s recipe calls for) or more water, or more wine, or vegetable stock instead of chicken stock, etc. As my boyfriend says, “Do you, baby. Do you.”

Bring liquid to a boil and then add 1 cup of potato flakes. Yeah. From a box. Again, a subsitution could be one cup of leftover mashed potatos. I used the potato flakes, and was very happy. However, I will definately try this soup again when I have leftover mashed potatos.

Once the potato flakes or mashed potatos are incorporated, reduce heat and finish with 1 and 1/2 cups milk. And don’t skimp on the fat content in the milk. If you know you’re not comfortable drinking whole milk, just buy a small carton instead of a huge gallon jug.

Garnish with lots of grated swiss and chervil or parsley. The swiss cheese will melt and become incorporated into the bowl of soup for extra flavor and texture. Serve with a crusty french baquette to soak up extra liquid.

You have to hand it to thrifty french peasants. This recipe makes a lot of soup which is great because it’s often said that soup is better after a day or so, once all the flavors have really combined. I’ll probably be eating this for the next week or so, which will be great for the soup and will leave me plenty of time for more job applications.

I love spring. I love the idea of shaking off the oldness and mustiness of winter and looking forward to a bright, new summer. Everything seems clean and fresh in spring, and all things seem possible. This fresh breakfast with seasonal flavors is my version of spring on a plate.

A traditional hot breakfast here in the US consists of eggs, potatoes, bacon or sausage, and maybe pancakes or oatmeal. Mostly greasy, all heavy. The UK does breakfast a little differently, adding beans in tomato sauce, stewed tomatoes, and “puddings”, a strange but delicious concoction of sausage cooked in pigs blood. Bread, olives, and goat’s cheese make a popular breakfast in the Middle East, and many people in Japan start their day with steamed rice and side dishes like grilled fish, miso soup, and dried seaweed. None of these breakfasts seem to convey the freshness and the lightness of a Midwestern spring to me, so I have created my own Fresh Springtime Breakfast:

Begin by replacing greasy bacon with blanched asparagus, a fabulously fresh taste of the season. Blanching is a super-fast way to slightly soften a vegetable, but allow it to retain its freshness and some of its crispness. I also included some uncooked tomato slices, salted and sprinkled with olive oil.

The traditional home fries get a bit of a spring twist by being made from new red potatoes seasoned with sea salt & black pepper and then sautéed in olive oil.

Next are the fluffy, creamy scrambled eggs. (The book on French cooking techniques I bought a while ago has a lot of information on the proper preparation of eggs, and I have learned that constant attention and movement is required so as to cook the eggs evenly but avoid them turning grayish and rubbery. Adding heavy cream is recommended too.) When eggs are finished, top with bits of farmers cheese, sprinkle with olive oil and garnish with fresh chopped dill.

Open the windows, listen to the birds chirp and enjoy.

So, I shook off the greasiness and heaviness from my breakfast. Now, what about my job search? Lately, I’ve been thinking about changing my tactics. I’ve been applying for organizer positions, communications positions, and development positions, but mostly organizer positions since that’s what I have the most experience in. However, I’m not sure I really want to do more organizing work. And this may be what has led to my ambivalence about many of my recent interviews. It’s possible that my lack of passion for any organization or cause is really just lack of desire to do organizing work.

Even though most job search advice says to “cast your net wider” and consider more types of careers in order to find employment, I may have to get a little more specific. At this point, I think I know what I want. I am most interested in positions in development where I can use my fundraising and organizing skills to promote an organization and to help it grow.

Ironically, I have what amounts to my dream job, only in a volunteer capacity with the Ypsilanti Community Band. I get to help publicize and raise funds for a group with endless potential and that I love. If only it involved a paycheck….

Thought to have originated in the US in the 1930s, it’s hardly an Italian classic, but it does have its own merit. Most often, piccata is made with veal cutlets rather than chicken cutlets but the sauce is nearly always the same: after the cutlets brown in a mixture of olive oil and butter, deglaze the pan with white wine, add lemon juice and capers, maybe shallots or garlic if you like, reduce by half, simmer for a moment or two, remove from heat and swirl in butter to thicken and smooth the sauce. Garnish liberally with chopped flat leaf parsley.

In the end I was quite satisfied with this Martha Stewart adaptation of a northern Italian treatment for veal, paired with a French style of making a sauce around Sicilian flavors. So, the dish wasn’t all image like the 1950s dinner party. There was some substance in the flavor after all.

I had an interview recently where I’m not sure I communicated my own substance very well. Social skills come very easily to me. I can chat with strangers very pleasantly, but when it comes to outlining my professional accomplishments, I have a much more difficult time. I’m also realizing that in an interview setting, I haven’t always been showing my personality. Lately, I’ve felt like I’ve been falling back on forced formality and politeness too often.

I think I may be coming across as someone without substance. My last working experience was directly political, so the skill to smile at someone through your complete disdain for them, their work, and their views, was tested daily. In fact, it’s one of the reasons I’ve been adamant to return to the non-profit sector. Obvious as it may sound, politics was too political for me.

I’ve been looking for a job where I can be of some service to the greater well-being of the community I live in, rather than a faceless drone contributing to some sort of corporate bottom line. I’m not a militant protester type, I’m a thoughtful, strategizing type who enjoys working hard with like minded people towards a goal. And until now, I don’t think I’ve spent any time truly articulating who I am or what I can do for any of these organizations I’ve been interviewing with.

According to an article in the Jobs section of the NY times, I probably haven’t done enough to “develop my interview strategy” and I probably haven’t prepared enough “specific & detailed” answers. I’ve spoken too generally and not been able to separate myself from the herd of other applicants.

It wouldn’t make sense to lie at every interview, proclaiming my passion for saving the whales in one office and my undying devotion to healthcare for all at another. So how can I show my own substance to some of these organizations without falsely claiming to be a militant ideologue who is completely devoted to their cause?

The area of Provence is in southeastern France on the coast of the Mediterranean sea and close to Italy. Tastes of the region include fresh seafood, olives & olive oil, garlic, basil, and summer vegetables like tomatoes & zucchini.

It’s with this dish that my interest in French cooking and its elegant simplicity has encountered a contradiction: pie crust. Somehow, I just couldn’t muster the culinary fortitude to dive into another pastry experience. You see, I don’t write about everything that I cook because some things don’t turn out as planned. I baked some English muffins a while ago and they ended up being far too dense. Rather than another imperfect pastry, I recognized my limitations and headed out to the frozen foods section for a prepared crust.

So it was a little difficult to wrap my mind around cooking this dish with its fresh ingredients and clean flavors in a frozen, store bought pie crust. In fact, it seemed like the culinary equivalent of transporting the British crown jewels in a brown paper bag.

I managed to justify this with a little research about the dish. I haven’t seen too many references to a particular dish called Tarte Provençale. Mostly I’ve seen it in reference as a use for leftover ratatouille, a stewed vegetable dish. (French cooking is very practical. Nothing is ever discarded unnecessarily.) And somehow a frozen, store bought pie crust seems more appropriate as a vehicle for leftovers anyway.

My tart didn’t involve any leftovers, but I was willing to overlook that in favor of the finished product. For your own tart, begin by coming to terms with the crust dilemma. If you decide to make your own crust, find a recipe and I wish you the best. If not, crusts are in aisle 10 (frozen foods) at the northside Kroger.

Slice 2 large zucchini or “courgettes” en francais. Lay them out on a baking sheet, sprinkle with olive oil, sea salt, and pepper and bake for 20 minutes, until edges are barely browned. Transfer baked courgettes to whatever crust you end up with by layering in with 4 sliced tomatoes, a few slices of onion, fresh basil leaves and 2 ounces each of mozzarella and fresh parmesan cheeses. Bake for 15-20 minutes at 400 degrees until cheese on top is melted and crust is browned. Serve warm, cut into wedges. Don’t tell people about the crust.

Though Michigan’s job market is dismal, there are jobs to be found. There are even some that seem fantastically rewarding in the two paragraph postings on idealist.org or Craigslist. In the beginning of my job search, I was always very optimistic about exciting postings and just as optimistic about interviewing. This is where the emotional risk begins. More than once, I have entered a bright office with a friendly staff, and answered questions thoroughly and insightfully, only to receive a polite letter weeks later about how difficult the selection process was, how many qualified candidates were interviewed, etc, etc,but that I was not the one chosen for the position.

After one or two of these experiences, I was undeterred in my quest for The Job. After five or six of these experiences, I continued to press forward. But after completion of more than 10, I’ve noticed that I’m more hesitant about each new interview, and that the enthusiasm I have as I approach staff directors and leaders within each new organization is becoming less and less genuine.

It’s not that I no longer care about doing a job that makes a difference. It’s that each time I’m courted, questioned, and dismissed, my feelings are hurt a little. At this point in the job search process I’ve been passed over, cut out, and consistently rejected for the past four months.

Imagine the uneasiness of a first date. Then go on 22 of them. Then add the pressure that this process governs your livelihood, your long-term goals and in many cases, your self worth.

But giving up is simply not part of the equation. Not unless I want to live in a cardboard box or sleep under a freeway overpass. So I press forward, fully aware of the emotional risk that I take with every post responded to, every interview question answered and every rising hope of finally finding the place where I belong professionally.

Eventually, the minor risk of going somewhere unfamiliar to be questioned & subsequently judged must pay off, and the tide must turn in my favor, right?

Well, I hope so. And as my job search continues to inch along, it is my pork tenderloin risk that has been the most rewarding lately. I’ve never cooked any pork before, much less fantastic tenderloin with a gently fruity sauce, but now I’m overjoyed that I took the risk and rose to the occasion.

The original recipe was for pork chops, but those seemed too substantial to fit into the menu I had planned for a weekend brunch. I went with the tenderloin so that the slices could remain thick & juicy but not overpower any other items on the plate.

It was recommended by the butcher that I leave the tenderloin out on the counter for about an hour before cooking it so that it would cook more evenly throughout. I adhered to this idea and also rubbed the tenderloin with sage in addition to the regular salt and pepper. After an hour, I coated it with flour and seared it in olive oil until the outsides were browned. After that, I left it to cook through on the stove, turning every few minutes until the interior temperature was at 140 degrees. (Note: I really love my little food thermometer. Every time I use it, I feel like I’m discovering the secret of tender meat just by reading the numbers and following the temperature instructions in my cookbook.)

The USDA recommends that pork be cooked to a temperature of 160 degrees, but most restaurant kitchens remove pork from heat at 140 and let rest for 10 minutes, covered. During this time, the meat continues to cook internally, and the juices remain inside.

While the pork is resting, the sauce can be made. Use the same pan to sauté two ripe pears, peeled and thinly sliced. Add two tablespoons sugar, two tablespoons chopped crystallized ginger and 1/3 cup dry white wine to deglaze the pan. Make sure to scrape up any brown bits left in the pan from the pork and incorporate them into the sauce. Turn heat to high and boil until pears are soft and sauce is thick.

Keep the sauce on a low heat while you carve the pork, and arrange it on a platter. Spoon the sauce over and serve, enjoying the rush of adrenaline from a risk that pays off.

French bread seems to be far and away the best comparison to job hunting that I’ve found to date. It’s not only because bread is an essential element in the meal, and work is an essential part of life; it’s also the process of arriving at the finished loaf.

It was the philosopher Karl Marx who argued that man needs to be engaged in meaningful work. I agree with this idea, and it’s this phrase that has been haunting me for the past four months while I’ve searched for that ever-elusive job. Marx was following Aristotle as he argued that it is part of human nature to need a goal. And I certainly admit that it’s part of my own nature to love a challenge. Of course unemployment has its advantages: sleeping in, catching up with friends & family, and pursuing hobbies. But this kind of free-form existence is only pleasing for so long. At this point, I’m ready to find my meaningful work.

It’s the process of combining the ingredients, kneading the dough until your arms ache, waiting for it to rise, shaping the loaves, waiting for more rising, and baking that resembles the interview process. Assembling the cover letter, resume, writing samples and submitting them is followed by a period of waiting. Next is the phone screening, which is followed by more waiting. Then the first interview. Maybe some follow up questions or extra submissions. If you’re doing well, there’ll be a second interview. And after going through this process an exhausting 7 times, I still haven’t gotten a decent offer.

So, I return to my kitchen. French Bread really only has 4 ingredients: flour, water, salt and yeast. After the rising, kneading and shaping are done I like to brush the loaves with an egg white and water mixture to make the tops shiny.

To begin, mix 2 cups all purpose flour, 1 ½ teaspoons salt and 2 ½ packets (.25 oz each) of active dry yeast. Add 2 cups warm water (110 degrees). Mix until smooth. Add 4 more cups flour gradually. You will probably only be able to stir in the first two or three, and have to knead in the rest. Knead on a lightly floured surface for 8 to 10 minutes, or until you’re no longer angry about something, or until your arms hurt. Dough should be stiff, smooth and elastic. Shape the dough into a ball and place it in a large greased bowl, turning once. Leave in a warm (100 degree) oven to rise for 45 minutes.

Retrieve the large ball of dough, which should be twice the size of when it went into the oven. Punch it back down until it’s roughly the original size, or you’ve forgotten why you were angry in the first place, or until your knuckles hurt. Cut dough in half and let rest for 10 minutes. Shape these lumps into two loaves by rolling each into a flat rectangle, rolling each rectangle up into a cylinder shape, and then turning the ends under so they bake evenly. Place loaves on a baking sheet, greased and sprinkled with a layer of cornmeal. Brush each with a mixture of one egg white beaten with 1 tablespoon of water. Cover loaves with a damp tea towel, and return them to the warm oven to rise for another 35 to 40 minutes.

Just like a job search. Complete each step to the best of your ability and wait, hoping for success.

Remove from the oven and uncover. Next, with a very sharp knife, cut lines diagonally into the dough, about 1/2 an inch deep. Bake for 20 minutes at 375 degrees. Brush again with egg white mixture and bake for another 15 to 20 minutes. The bread is done when it can be pierced with a toothpick, and the toothpick comes out clean. Leave to cool on a wire rack.

It will take the better part of a weekend afternoon to complete this simple, yet lengthy process. However, much like a job search, patience and persistence ought to yield pleasant results.

I’d like to say that I also made cacik, a yogurt & cucumber dish, as well as hummus and that I created a spread to make any Mediterranean’s mouth water, but I didn’t.  My tabbouleh sat next to my computer and my notes for an afternoon of  job applications.

Right now I’m operating on the theory that job hunting is ultimately a numbers game. The more time I spend searching the job boards and reading the postings, the more openings I’ll find. The more openings I find, the more applications I’ll submit. More applications means more interviews, and finally, one day, the holy grail: a satisfying job that pays a living wage, here in the town where I live.

So on this particular afternoon, I was fortified with tabbouleh while I weeded through hundreds of job postings that I wasn’t interested in or qualified for.  And when I was finished with that, I spent another hour sifting through things I was over-qualified for that were all part-time. Suffice it to say, the tabbouleh was the best part of yesterday afternoon.

Start with 100 grams of bulgar wheat. Since it’s not an ingredient I use often, I went to the bulk foods section at Whole Foods so I could buy exactly 100 grams. Wash the bulgar in a sieve then tip it into a clean tea towel to press out any excess moisture. Tip into a bowl and add two vine-ripened tomatoes, finely diced. Set aside for 45 mins so that the juices from the tomatoes continue to soften the bulgar.

Often, recipes call for soaking bulgar in water to soften it. In this case, soaking  and then adding the diced tomatoes with all their juice would be overkill and would leave you with mush.

Chop one large bunch of flat-leaf parsley, one small bunch of mint, and three green onions. Add these to the bulgar & tomatoes with the juice from half of a lemon, 3 tablespoons of olive oil and some salt to taste.

I’ve read that in the middle east, tabbouleh is usually served with lettuce leaves for scooping it up to eat, but in North America we often eat it with bread. I had already picked up some lavash bread, so I went that route. Either way it was a fresh and satisfying addition to an otherwise dreary afternoon of job-hunting.

I’m finding that sauces require patience, balance, delicacy, and a sense of subtlety. Those of you who know me well, know that I don’t have any of these things. But I’m learning. Having all this time on my hands has certainly slowed me down. I used to wake up, rush out of the house, stop at Starbucks for a $4 latte, and not return home until dark. Now, I wake up, listen to the BBC news on NPR, make my own latte, and watch the geese and other birds that are beginning to return to the lake outside my backdoor. I digress…

My first sauce experience was with one involving red wine. I don’t exactly know what the name if this sauce is, because there’s a lot of french in this book. We’ll just call it a red wine sauce until my french improves.

To make it, start by pan frying steak in a little butter, about 12 mins total and then set aside in a warm oven. Use this frying pan, leaving the drippings from the steak, to saute 1 tablespoon of chopped shallots for 10 to 15 seconds. This is some of the subtlety and the complexity. 10 to 15 seconds can make a difference, who knew? Add 1 small clove of garlic, chopped, a 1/4 teaspoon of thyme, 1 cup of good red wine, 3/4 cup demi-glace (french word for stock reduced by half), and two chopped anchovy fillets. Yes, the little fishes, and yes, it’s worth it.

The book actually specifies “Good Red Wine.” My theory about this direction was so that you can be drinking it while you’re cooking, but I haven’t reached this level of proficiency in making sauces yet. However, since you’ve only used 1 cup for the sauce, you’ll have good wine to drink with dinner.

Once everything has been combined, reduce the sauce for 1 to 2 minutes and season to taste. Strain and serve over steak. I was surprised by the transparency of the finished sauce. I guess I was expecting some thick form of gravy or something. There’s the delicacy aspect. And the taste was phenomenal. It was the kind of flavor that made me surprised I had actually made it.

To serve, make a playlist of Carla Bruni songs, brush up on Sarkozy’s latest social faux pas, pour that glass of good red wine and enjoy.