Daffodils symbolize hope, rebirth and new beginnings. I want to share daffodils with everyone reading this because we could all use a little hope in our lives. Many people who I love are enduring various stages of grief.

One lost a father to disease after a long, complicated struggle.

Another is haunted by the death of a friend and fellow soldier. He lives every day not knowing if the latest round of mortars will claim more life (including his own). The world he has experienced for the past few years is one I can intellectualize but barely fathom. He calls it “forced enlightenment.” Read more

Sometimes I can be a bit daft.  When a last minute opportunity to head to Vegas complete with a built-in babysitter/Grandma and a reservation at the coveted Atelier de Robuchon jumps into your lap, the least you could do is remember the damn camera, right? Not I so consider yourself warned: the photos in this entry were all lovingly taken with the very best in iPhone technology, sorry for my forgetfulness. 

It just so happened that last week when Jonas and I were trying to cobble together a plan for New Year’s Eve that didn’t involve driving, hanging with 18 year olds or hanging with 80 year olds, but did involve Grandma’s babysitting assistance, a fair amount of imbibing, and a bit of reveling thrown in for good measure, the phone rang.  A good thing too, as we were in the middle of a heated discussion regarding the merits of an aquarium versus a bowling alley on the biggest amateur night of the year- two options I’m glad we didn’t have to explore.  It so happened that my sisters’ boyfriend of several years had hatched a plan to propose to her in Vegas on NYE (since they live there) and at the last minute he decided it might be fun to have her family around.  I think his secret motive was to ensure she would have a heart attack one way or another- if the shock of the engagement didn’t do it the fact that her sister who she hasn’t seen in a year popping up at their table five minutes later yelling “surprise” surely would. 

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After spending an oozingly satisfying morning making burrata from scratch, I knew I had to have a superlative plan for serving it later that night.  The whole crew who came along for the burrata adventure was going to be there, and I wanted them to experience the efforts of their toils in a way they would not soon forget.  The task was compounded in difficulty by the fact that I was pretty insistent upon doing multiple courses with different variations of the burrata.  I was hoping to make each course unique enough that every time someone experienced that gushing burst of burrata bliss it would be just as good as the first.  This post deals with two of those courses- both succulent enough to inspire salivation in the most sated soul.

We started with burrata in white nectarines with a fava bean puree because it’s refreshing, light (even with the burrata!) and the nectarines act as a great amuse bouche opening the palate to further pleasures.  I’ve served many variations on this fairly classic presentation of burrata, though normally I opt for apricots.  They were not in season at the market, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise. The nectarines had the added benefit of intensified sweetness to counterbalance the fava as well as a larger depression where their pits used to be, allowing me to cram in a perfectly plump dollop of burrata.  In the past, I had always oscillated between balsamic drizzle and mint simple syrup when dressing this dish, but this time I decided to go for broke and try both.  I wanted to be sure that each would have a different texture, so I upped the ante with the mint simple syrup and continued it to the point of caramelization.  That way, I could crumble the mint and drizzle the balsamic, and trust me, everyone was very happy.

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