X-RAYS, SWANS, AND MIXED GREENS AND RICE SOUP

Ciao'd while NorCali's first rain of the season chases away the pollen. 

When Tom Wolfe coined the term "social x-ray" he was referring to women of a certain age who, by sheer luck and well-honed starvation techniques, put the "skinny" in skinny designer jeans. Literally.

Truman Capote called them “swans.” If you are a Vanity Fair subscriber, you know the swans: Babe Paley, Lee Radziwill, Slim Keith (seriously, even the name?), Marea Agnelli. Nan Kempner was the original social x-ray, though I do not think she was a swan. We can’t have everything now, can we? 

It’s doubtful the x-ray swans exercised as is the norm for women today. They smoked instead. They were soft. They were “skinny fat,” as my husband says. I bet they were bitchy, too.  Who wouldn’t be a bitch when your daily intake consists of 3 lettuce leaves (Iceberg.  It's more water than food.) and an evening martini (with another ciggy).

Now that I have crossed the strait from youth to that certain age, I am even more dazzled by those women. A modern-day bevy of them lives in my town. Some are even my friends. To add insult to injury, these are women older than me who, barring a good soak in the fountain of youth, have most certainly gone through “the change.” Yet they sport svelte carriages and lovely dispositions. They sip chardonnay. Sometimes a lot of chardonnay. I defy you to find a bloated knuckle on their bodies.  

As for me, I finally get why it’s called “the change.” My hips and I have picked up our hate-hate relationship from where we left off freshman-fifteen years ago. I’ve said “hello” to a tummy I haven’t seen since I was pregnant with my son. I can’t jumpstart my metabolism regardless of the weights I do and the dietary measures I take.

I’ve taken to wearing tunics while channeling Diana Vreeland. Capes work, too, though I’ll keep Karl Lagerfeld at bay (He’s French. They like cheese). Would it be so bad to embrace the march of time and settle into this new reality rather than fight the grueling battle of gravity and girth?

I’m a cook. That must count for something. I’ll be Ina (with all due respect and love) rather than Giada (she appears clenched and crabby). I’ll embody the “Two Fat Ladies” (Clarissa Dickson Wright and Jennifer Paterson).  They seemed to have a whole lot of fun careening towards the next buttered spatchcock chicken on their Triumph motorbike.

Alas, it’s taxing enough to discipline myself when it comes to relishing life’s riches but it’s even more wearisome to turn my backside to a world gone mad for skinny minnies.

Julia Child said it best (no surprise): “Everything in moderation…including moderation.” Let’s take that advice to heart and share a satisfying yet healthy bowl of Mixed Greens and Rice Soup.  And a hunk of crusty, country bread slathered with creamy butter and crunchy sea salt to go with it.  #dolcevitadelish!

RECIPE

MIXED GREENS AND RICE SOUP

Arborio rice, which imparts risotto with its trademark creaminess, enriches the broth in this satisfying yet healthy soup. Use any greens you have on hand, a mix or a single variety will do just fine.

Serves 4

2 tablespoons olive oil
2 ounces pancetta, cut into ¼-inch chunks
2 tablespoons minced onion
2 cloves garlic, minced
4 cups mixed greens (about 1 pound), such as Swiss chard, spinach, or escarole, trimmed and cut crosswise into 1-inch strips
Kosher salt
6 cups chicken broth
½ cup rice, preferably Arborio or Carnaroli
¼ cup Parmesan cheese, plus more for the table
Freshly ground black pepper

In a large saucepan or Dutch oven, heat the oil over medium heat, Add the pancetta and sauté for 5 minutes.  Using a slotted spoon, transfer to a plate.

Add the onion and sauté until golden, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook until fragrant, about 2 minutes. Add the greens and a generous sprinkling of salt and cook, stirring, for 2 minutes. Slowly add the broth, increase the heat to medium-high, and bring to a boil. Add the rice, cover, and cook until the rice is al dente (firm to the bite), about 15 minutes. Remove from the heat and stir in the Parmesan cheese. Season with salt and pepper, to taste.  Serve with more Parmesan at the table.

Note: This soup can be prepared a day ahead of serving. If you do this, don’t add the rice until you’re ready to serve it. Bring the soup to a boil, add the rice, and cook until al dente. 

4 PM FIX: ROASTED FISH WITH GREMOLATA BREADCRUMBS AND BROCCOLI

Ciao'd after the news about Kim K. and the jewels. Celebs they're just like us. Not.

RECIPE

ROASTED FISH WITH GREMOLATA BREADCRUMBS
AND CHARRED BROCCOLI

Gremolata is a classic condiment made from three ingredients found in every Italian kitchen: Parsley, garlic, and lemon. It’s also the secret ingredient in the breadcrumbs that top the fish in this recipe, lending brightness to this healthy, simple one-pan supper.

Serves 4

Gremolata Breadcrumbs
1 cup finely chopped fresh flat-leaf (Italian) parsley
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 teaspoons grated lemon zest
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Broccoli and Fish
5 cups broccoli florets
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
½ cup dry breadcrumbs
3 tablespoons finely chopped fresh flat-leaf (Italian) parsley
1 garlic clove, minced
2 tablespoons grated lemon zest
4 fish fillets of any kind of fish, ½- to 1-inch thick
2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese
Lemon wedges, for serving

Preheat oven to 425ºF.

In a small bowl, combine the breadcrumbs, parsley, garlic, lemon zest, and a generous pinch of salt. Add 2 tablespoons olive oil and toss until the breadcrumbs are moist; set aside.

Place the broccoli florets on a rimmed baking sheet lined with parchment paper or aluminum. Drizzle with 2 tablespoons of the olive oil and season with salt and pepper, to taste.  Toss gently to coat with the oil.  Roast for 5 minutes.

Brush the fish fillets with the remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Spoon the breadcrumb mixture on top of the fish in an even layer. Remove the baking sheet from the oven and place the fish on it, nestling with the broccoli. Return to the oven and roast until the fish is cooked (about 10 minutes per inch of thickness) and the breadcrumbs are browned. (Keep an eye on the broccoli.  Depending upon the thickness of the fish, it may be ready beforehand.)

Divide the fish and broccoli among four plates. Sprinkle the Parmesan over the broccoli. Serve with lemon wedges.  

iPHONE HOME (AND THE GORGONZOLA MAC & CHEESE THAT ANSWERS)

Ciao'd with a glass of rosé. It's still summer. Please. 

It’s Friday. I am rushing to a photo shoot. Call time 8 am. Friday is also the day our housekeeper saves us from complete slovenliness. Getting up an hour earlier is mandatory to clean the house before the housekeeper arrives to clean the house. Strip the beds, vacuum the dog hair, hide the sex toys, and make my teenage son’s bathroom halfway accessible.

In my son’s bathroom, I check the toilet, hoping there is nothing in it that makes me gag. When I swipe the Lysol-laced paper towel around the rim, my iPhone dives into the toilet, with a splash no less. Thank God the water is clean. I am quick. Scoop out the phone, remove the case and encase the phone in a towel. The screen is live. The text works. The email is functional. No rice needed. I ROCK. Until I don’t.

A few hours later, at the shoot, my phone rings as I’m walking to the next photo location. It’s my husband. I answer. No reply. Ring again. No reply. This goes on for another four rings. He is a champion butt caller. I text, “WTF? Your ass is not that big.”  Unbeknownst to me, he’s 100 yards behind me, yelling for me to slow my walk so he can catch up. (I am freelancing for my husband’s agency in a show of nepotism at its finest.) Everything BUT the phone function is working on my iPhone. This it at once a problem and a blessing. What if the Food Network is ringing to offer me a series (I wish)? What if my mom is calling to report on my dad’s health (I don’t wish)? I need a new phone.

 I love the notion of the new iPhone 7S with its enhanced photography mechanism. I use my phone to take photos for my blog and Instagram (the mother of all balls and chains when you’re trying to get your brand noticed). It would be nice to have a larger phone because, for the life of my fat fingers, it is a challenge to reply to texts and emails without deleting and repeating and correcting the auto correct.

But, still. I have reveled in the quiet for the last few days. No chirping crickets singing a call. No beep when a text arrives. I am nostalgic for the landline days, and even more nostalgic for the days before landline voice mail. The notion of a phone ringing ad infinitum with no voicemail stepping in is quite liberating. “If it’s important, they’ll ring back."

When I was growing up, my sisters and I prayed that the phone would not ring during dinner. If it did, my dad would either let the phone ring while he glared or he’d pick it up and, without listening to who was on the other side, bark, “Have you no manners?” Receiver. Slammed. Down.  

 If my teenage son had dropped his iPhone into the toilet, mayhem would ensue. I know this because I experienced the bedlam when he left his phone in his pants and I literally washed it to death. No phone? No texting? No Snap? Teenage Armageddon.

 That’s when I realized I am ensnared in my son’s technology, too.  I depend upon his text updates, especially when he is out on the weekends or lacrosse practice is running late. I text him when the lardass I am doesn’t want to stop at the market for milk and I guilt him into doing so.

When I was growing up, we didn’t wear seatbelts, we walked to school with the slightest admonition to refrain from talking to strangers, and we did not have smartphones. We –and our parents – did just fine, thank you. Still, I am grateful for the always-on connection that links me to my son and him to me, like an infinite baby blue Princess telephone cord.

While your kids are out and about, send them a text and tell them what’s for dinner: Gorgonzola Mac and Cheese. The dolcevitadelish-ness will lure them home. Dinner served. Phones down.

RECIPE

GORGONZOLA MAC AND CHEESE

Served as a main course, this is definitely an indulgence, but what the heck? Add a green salad and you’ve met you’re daily nutritional goals. Served in more restrained proportions, it’s an ideal accompaniment to grilled steak or roast beef. So the macaroni retains its texture and does not turn to mush, boil it until it is just al dente, as it will continue to cook in the oven.

Serves 3 to 4 as a main course; 6 as a side dish

½ cup dry breadcrumbs
2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese
4 ounces diced pancetta
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, plus more for greasing
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 cups whole milk, heated
4 ounces Gorgonzola cheese, crumbled
A few dashes Tabasco sauce
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
½ pound (1 ½ cups) elbow macaroni

Preheat the oven to 350º. Butter 4 small gratin dishes or a shallow 1 ½-quart baking dish.

In a small bowl, combine the breadcrumbs and Parmesan cheese; reserve.

In a medium skillet over moderate heat, cook the pancetta until crisp and browned, 5 to 8 minutes. Transfer the pancetta to a paper towel-lined plate; reserve.

Discard all but 1 tablespoon of the fat from the skillet. Add 2 tablespoons of the butter. When the foam has subsided, add the flour and cook, stirring until smooth, about 1 minute. Gradually add the milk and cook, stirring, until the sauce thickens, about 10 minutes. Add the Gorgonzola and Tabasco and cook, stirring, until the cheese melts. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Keep warm.

Meanwhile, in a medium saucepan of boiling, salted water, cook the pasta until just al dente. Drain well and add the pasta to the cheese sauce, tossing to coat. Stir in the pancetta.

Divide the macaroni and cheese between the gratin dishes. Sprinkle the breadcrumbs over the macaroni. Dot with the remaining 2 tablespoons butter. Bake until the sauce is bubbling and the top is golden, 15 to 20 minutes. Serve immediately.

Recipe adapted from my book, Real-Life Entertaining (Clarkson-Potter).