All posts tagged: Holiday

Fig and Orange Chicketta

The problem I’m having nowadays with my market haul? I want to serve every sunchoke, beet, radish, asparagus, artichoke, and green alongside my Chicketta. Think about it. Chicken that’s marinated in fresh lemon juice, olive oil, with a fig-orange jam whisked in. Then more fig-orange jam brushed on top as it roasts in the oven as if it were BBQ sauce…chicken that’s stuffed with a layer of roasted garlic, basil, pancetta (or prosciutto!), mozz…then served with all the spring things I CAN’T EVEN. Here’s a spring thing for you: braised baby artichokes. Purple baby artichokes. Lavender nearest to their hearts. You asked for the recipe, but sadly, I did not write a single thing down as I made it (I will some day!) but if you ever make a lemon-wine sauce, let’s consider that a seriously good start. Sear them, then braise them in that lemony goodness. But if you’re not in the mood to get all fancy, even a spring pilaf or a salad will do. Chicketta don’t ask for much. Porchetta-style chicken is …

Reconnect(ing) + Boozy Jam Recipe

Instead of setting goals for the New Year, I’ve chosen a word, or hell, it has chosen me. Reconnect. It came to me Saturday afternoon during the Winter Solstice Celebration. Guys, the Irish Arts Center does it for me hard-core. ALWAYS festive. Full of stories and gut-laughter. Full of a history I love to hear about through song and foot-stomping. Tamar Korn played a set in yiddish, not without translating first. It was the sort of poetry sung that brought me Home. It begins with a child sleeping on his pillow, then moves to the feather in the pillow, then to bird to nest to branch to tree to root and circles back again. Over and over again. I couldn’t stop crying when the word struck me and of course it struck me then. The more the lines were repeated, the more it felt like a chant, the more it felt like easy-breathing. I need to go back to my roots. Roots that I, alone, had put down and raised. I’ve felt such a major …