Winter

It's winter and time for preserving all the glorious citrus fruit while it's at its peak in the market and I'm lucky to have Seville oranges. I've read about Seville oranges but never have seen them in my market until last week. Well, you imagine my excitement as I  tore endless plastic bags from the roll, filling them quickly as the display of oranges disappeared. A Seville orange isn't the nicest looking orange I've every seen but a little sugar and a little heat and I guarantee I will transform them into the prettiest jars in my pantry!

I love making marmalade especially in the quiet month of January here in Maine. Life slows down as snow and ice covers the vista and I spend a lot less time outdoors and more time in my kitchen. Is marmalade difficult you ask? If you are a patient person, the answer is no but if you don't have lots of patience, pick something else to make.

The process of peeling the rind and only the rind with no white pith is an involved task that takes a fair amount of skill and time but it is the most important part of marmalade making because this is what make it unpleasantly bitter. So, take your time in the beginning and you'll reap the rewards when you open that first jar-I promise!

I’m perhaps one of the most happy-go-lucky kind of guys when it comes to food. I eat everything, enjoy a wide variety of foods, and can find something to eat just about anywhere I am. This ease disappears when I talk about pizza and my world view becomes nothing short of black and white. But only with pizza. Stay with me here.

I will eat the fanciest of hamburgers. I will eat the trashiest of hamburgers. In this case, I like the high brow and I can get down with the low brow, too. But pizzas? Forget it. I’ve spent half of my life consuming gummy, bready, greasy, gross pizza and I just won’t do it anymore. In fact, I haven’t in twenty years or so. Because once you taste a Neapolitan-style pizza (my personal benchmark) it’s hard to go backwards. There’s a balance of ingredients, a simplicity in its construction, and to me it gets no better. My apologies to my Chicago deep-dish pizza loving’ friends. I really mean that.

Anyway, when I tend to find my idea of pizza perfection I will visit regularly. It could be a bakery in Rome, a take-away window in NYC, or in this case my local pizza place in Long Beach called Michael’s Pizzeria. I’ve written about it before, and it’s one of my standard go-to places here in town. And for the longest time I refused to veer from their margherita pizza.

But one day a salad on the menu caught my eye, and now it seems to be the only thing I want to eat (in addition to my pizza). Picture this: winter root vegetables, pancetta, roasted pumpkin seeds and herb buttermilk dressing. It’s clean, flavorful, crunchy,  with a fantastic balance between the sweet & earthy and the tangy and salty.

Now that the holiday feeding frenzy is over (well, sort of) we are left with hunks and wedges of cheese and packages of smoked salmon. I swear my cheese drawer looks like a graveyard of half eaten-half scooped items. But there is no reason to let them go to waste and they are easily re-purposed into something amazing. 

We were lucky enough to have smoked salmon around this holiday season. But don't worry, this recipe would work well with any leftover salmon or fish you have now or throughout the year.

I shredded up some wedges of cheese, about 3-1/2 to 4 cups total. I used Parmesan, Dubliner, Pepper Jack and Monterey Jack and I had about 1-1/4 pounds of leftover smoked salmon.

To make things even easier, I used a can of Progresso Recipe Starters Creamy Three Cheese Cooking Sauce as part of the base for my sauce. Have you tried these yet? They are so great to have in the pantry when you are needing a quick meal.

Let’s pretend for just a tiny moment that it has not been in the 80s here in Los Angeles over the past few days. We can also pretend that I did not lay outside in shorts and no t-shirt in the sun on a big madras print blanket with a book and three small dogs who insisted on standing on my back, butt and head. And let’s also pretend that yesterday I didn’t get home and fight the urge to run straight to the grill with a beer in my hand.