The recipe I’m sharing with you today is strange. While it’s called a gratin, it’s really more of a vegetable pie in a couscous crust. I found it on the side of a jar of wheat germ seven or eight years ago, which is also strange. I mean, who buys wheat germ? And then there’s the fact that I still regularly buy wheat germ just to make this recipe that I’m not even that crazy about. So, why share it with you? It’s partly because Matt requested it this week, but mostly because it reminds me of another strangely delicious baked pasta dish that my grandma used to make for me: spaghetti pie. It was a little brown and crunchy-chewy around the edges and the bottom was dense with egg, topped with tomato sauce and a layer of melted cheese. I adored that spaghetti pie and I was always excited when I got to stay with grandma and grandpa because grandma would always make it for me. I liked it so much she shared the recipe with my mom, but it wasn’t quite the same if grandma didn’t make it. Continue reading
Tag Archives: pie
Happy Birthday, Blog!
Today is my blog’s first birthday (!!) and for some reason I can think of nothing more appropriate to share with you than a story of total kitchen failure. I spend a lot of time writing about all the good food that makes its way off my stove and into our bellies, but every once in a while (aka on a semi-regular basis), things go terribly wrong. And there is almost nothing that frustrates me more. Continue reading
Sunday Lunch Love
I know I’ve already told you how much I love Sunday lunch. The Sundays I spent eating dim sum with my dad at Bernard’s in the Chestnut Hill Mall. Or the Sundays we went to Viet Hong and split a bowl of pho. Or the Sundays we sat at the bar at Legal Sea Foods and talked to our favorite bartender over light clam chowder (the cream-less version where you can actually taste the clams). Or the Sundays in Rangeley when dad made eggs florentine and the smell tantalized us for a full hour before it was ready to eat. Sunday lunch is perfect in so many ways. It’s far enough into the weekend that the week feels like a distant memory, but there’s still a long lazy afternoon ahead. And there’s so much time to eat, slowly, lazily, happily. Continue reading