Chocolate cookie crust, melted chocolate, and chopped peanuts.

I’ve never met Jennie Perillo. I follow her on Twitter and have shared a few back and forth messages over the past six months. The beauty of social media – and there is something beautiful about it, I promise – is having the opportunity to connect with people you may never meet in person. For instance, Jennie resides in Brooklyn, and I am inDenver. We are not exactly neighbors.

Earlier in the week, Jennie posted that “he was gone” and her heart was shattered into a million pieces. I knew she meant her beloved husband, Mikey. I didn’t know if that meant he left…? Did they have a fight? Jennie’s a strong, smart woman, I figured she and her husband would be able to work things out.

A day later, she posted this http://www.injennieskitchen.com/2011/08/one-last-dance.html, a sweet and short video of a father dancing with his barefoot daughter in the kitchen. And that’s when I knew what happened.

Mikey had died of a massive heart attack. He was young, a father of two young girls and the husband of a woman who adores him. I was at a loss. I’d never met this woman. I couldn’t bake lasagna and take it over to her house. I felt truly helpless. I left her a message on her blog, offering my condolences along with hundreds of her readers and fellow food bloggers.

This morning, I was scrolling through my Twitter feed when I kept seeing the hashtag #apieformikey. And then I found her touching post – a humble request. For all of us wanting to help Jennie, she asked us to make her husband’s favorite dessert, Creamy Peanut Butter Pie, the one she promised him she’d make soon and kept putting it off. They have two young daughters and worked full time jobs. Mikey’s pie wasn’t a priority. Spending time together was. Go read Jennie’s post today, recalling her last date with her husband.

Jennie’s recipe: http://www.injennieskitchen.com/2011/08/for-mikey.html

And if you have time, make the pie. Share it with those you love. Raise a slice to Mikey.

A note: I don’t have a springform pan, so I used a regular pie plate. I also have a weird “thing” about stuff on top of a cream pie. I just like to have the crust and the filling. Read through Jennie’s recipe, if you want to add the melted chocolate to the top of the pie, by all means, please do so. Enjoy.

Finished Pie

Summer is here! We had the rainiest month of May ever, and the green grass and gorgeous blooms were a great reward many soggy days.

My perfect summer morning is spent outside, reading the newspaper or a book and drinking iced coffee. Sometimes I even plan world domination.

The best thing about iced coffee is that you don’t even have to use your coffee machine. And if you don’t have a coffee machine, this is even better news for you!

What You Need:

1 cup ground coffee (I use a medium grind)

2 tablespoons light brown sugar

½ teaspoon ground cinnamon

4 cups cold water

1 qt jar or pitcher with a lid

Long handled spoon

Sieve

Make It Happen:

Pour the coffee, sugar and cinnamon into the jar. (If you don’t normally sweeten your coffee, as I don’t, I urge you to try this recipe anyway. The sugar and cinnamon are not overwhelming – but gives the coffee some great depth.) Add the cold water. Stir until well blended. Place the lid securely on the jar or pitcher and either leave on the counter or in the fridge overnight. I’d say about 8-12 hours is the max.

When it’s ready, take off the lid and give it another stir. Pour the coffee through the sieve into another container – a 4-cup measuring cup works well if you have it. If you don’t, just use a mixing bowl. I like to pour the coffee through a sieve twice, just to make sure I’ve gotten as many of the grounds as possible out of the coffee.

To serve, fill a glass with ice and pour the coffee over. Add milk if you like. Don’t be surprised if you drink the whole jar in one day.

I am not a particularly sentimental person. Until I start thinking about food – and then the emotion I attach to everything I eat, or could eat, becomes very obvious and sentimental, indeed.

I’ve always enjoyed feeding people. I don’t know exactly where this comes from, though my best guess is that it comes from a long lineage of people who like to eat. In my family, we gather in the kitchen. It’s where we’re most comfortable, safe and within an arm’s reach of the wine fridge.

My mom reigns over her kitchen, as she should. I always feel welcome there, except on my birthday when I get kicked out every year for offering to help with dinner. A couple times a year, I get to shoo my mom from the kitchen and cook for the family. It’s a fun, time-consuming process, and I am most happy when I am alone in the kitchen with my thoughts and a sharp knife.

For Mother’s Day this year, I didn’t finish planning the menu until a few hours before we ate, but it was a great success. We had a cedar planked salmon, basil pesto and pasta, haricot verts and for dessert I made vanilla bean panna cotta with lemon marmalade. I have never made panna cotta before in my life. I am not sure what caused my sudden obsession with gelatin, but lemon and vanilla are two of my favorite flavors, and for a spring dessert I knew they would be perfect. Bon Appétit magazine’s May issue boasted a spread of Italian desserts, including the panna cotta.

You can find the recipe for both here:

A couple of things to keep in mind and someone who has “been there”: Making the marmalade a couple of days in advance gives you not only something to do on a Friday night, but the time you need to focus just on the panna cotta the day you plan to serve it. When I make the panna cotta again – and I will – I will decrease the amount of gelatin used by ½. I prefer a softer dessert and the one I presented to my appreciative mother on Sunday was a bit too firm.

Every time I make this marmalade, I’ll think back to the first time I made it, on a Friday night, drinking beer and listening to Mumford & Sons at a very high volume. I’ll remember the way the scent of lemons filled the entire kitchen and that my hands smelled like fresh lemons for a good day and a half afterwards.

I’ll remember the expression on my mom’s face on Sunday, when after looking at the recipe, she turned to me and said, “You know, if you don’t want to make the marmalade, we can just use strawberries with dessert,” and I presented her with the already made marmalade. I know she was happy I had made the effort.

And really, isn’t that what Mother’s Day is all about?

Finished marmalade, cooling.

I hope you’ve noticed that I changed the name of my blog. “Lia’s Blog of Big Eating” is now “Kitchen Raised”. I’ve been toying with a name change for quite some time now. I liked what the original name evoked…me and my culinary adventures, bigger is better, etc. I am not always a big eater and not always in your face and louder than life. That name doesn’t speak to my attitude in the kitchen – my kitchen, my parents’ kitchen or your kitchen.

I try to be methodical and build on what I’ve learned in the past to create memorable meals for the present and future. I know I’ve mentioned this before, but I really was raised in the kitchen.  I am one of five children and we were required to help out – only if we wanted to eat – and speaking from experience, I know it’s why we all can hold our own in the kitchen.

I grew up hating asparagus. I did not get how anyone could enjoy it. I couldn’t even say the word “asparagus” without gagging dramatically, which my parents thoroughly enjoyed. Enter my mid-20s. My mom started roasting asparagus in the oven, sprinkling it balsamic and shaved parmesan. Now I would gladly eat asparagus every day if I didn’t think it was unfair to other vegetables.

As kids, we learned how to clean and prepare vegetables, make an omelet and frost a cake. We learned menu planning and time management (still not so great at that) and important things like how to cook pasta and meat thoroughly. We accompanied my mother on trips to the grocery store and farmers’ markets.

As adults, we drink from my parents’ vast wine collection and peruse my mother’s ever expanding cookbook collection. When I go to mom and dad’s, I toss my belongings wherever, rarely hanging up my jacket and head straight for the fridge. Much to my parents’ chagrin, I’ll stand with the refrigerator agape and demand; “Do we have anything to eat?” before rummaging through blocks of cheese, hard salami and whatever else I can get my hands on. Sitting at the kitchen table, the same table I’ve eaten family dinners at for years, I’ll read Julia Child, Thomas Keller, and Mario Batali and drink too much wine. This is home.

I hope you understand the name change – it speaks the knowledge I’ve gained as someone who seeks out the kitchen in every home I visit and my desire impart the joy of cooking to my readers. Thanks for joining me.

As always, please feel free to comment or ask questions.

I’ve been making lasagna for years. It’s a dish I grew up with; it made frequent appearances at our dinner table and was a good standby at potluck dinners. I don’t know if I ever asked for a recipe from my mom, or after watching her make it countless times I just figured it out.

It’s great for Sunday dinner because you will inevitably have leftovers – unless you’re really hungry or feeding a crowd – and it’s nice to have at least one planned leftover for the week.

My friend Justin has been asking me for months to teach him how to make lasagna. I can’t remember the origins of the conversation, but I suspect it has something to do with him perhaps not entirely believing I can cook.

Regardless, I did promise the guy I would show him how easy it is to make the most comforting, cheesy deliciousness that is lasagna. After some back and forth, we settled on a date and he even wrote it in his calendar. And I doubted his commitment to cooking.

Before Justin and his entourage of hungry men came over, I had a slight panic attack. I’ve never written down a recipe for lasagna. I just wing it. And it turns out wonderful each time. I come from the “It’s hard to mess up a pot of Bolognese” school of thought, but still, I knew he would need a recipe.

I trolled the Internet for lasagna recipes; I needed to know that what I had cobbled together by memory was pretty close to what epicurious.com and the Food Network would show me. I pick those two websites, not because I like their recipes all that much, but it’s easy to find basics and build from there. I was on the right track, or at least close enough. A couple of recipes called for cottage cheese instead of ricotta. Now, I am no culinary purist by any stretch of the imagination, but that is something I will not use in lasagna. You can if you want to. I believe that ricotta has a smoother, richer taste. And yes, you can purchase low fat ricotta and the lasagna will still be delish.

I also consulted the new edition of “The Joy of Cooking”, and found its recipe for Bolognese Sauce to be superior to what I planned to use. I didn’t have pancetta in the house; otherwise I would have considered using it. But my worry slowly subsided. I’ve made the roughly the same “recipe” when I’ve made lasagna for years. No one has ever complained that it wasn’t meaty or cheesy enough. If anyone hasn’t liked it, they’ve never told me.

I called my friend Stephanie over, as I put it, “I may need you to regulate. I have no idea what to expect.” She arrived with two beers in hand.

As someone who cooks alone more often than not, it was fun to have a noisy kitchen. Justin is an easy student, albeit slightly demanding. If I tried to scoot in front of him to check on the sauce’s progress or mix the cheese and eggs, he’d say, “Hey! Aren’t I supposed to be doing this?!”  And he says I have a Type A personality…

The lasagna was a hit and Justin proved that he’s no slouch in the kitchen. For those of us who do cook, there is a prideful feeling we get when we teach someone how to make something we love.

Lasagna

Ingredients:

1-1/2 pounds ground beef

1 pound hot Italian sausage, casings removed

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 28-ounce can of whole tomatoes

2 6-ounce cans tomato paste

4 tablespoons dried parsley, divided

2 tablespoons dried basil

1 teaspoon salt

3 cups ricotta cheese

2 whole eggs, beaten

½ cup Parmesan cheese (grated or shredded)

2 cups fresh baby spinach, optional

1 pound mozzarella cheese, grated

12 lasagna noodles, cooked al dente

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil.

In a large skillet, or saucepan, combine ground beef, Italian sausage (remove from casings) and minced garlic. Cook over medium-high heat until browned. Drain ¾ of the fat. Add tomatoes, tomato paste, parsley, basil and salt. Mix well and turn down heat to medium low. The sauce should simmer for about 30-35 minutes.

Add lasagna noodles to boiling water and cook until al dente, about 7 minutes. Strain noodles. If you would like, you can sprinkle the noodles with a small amount of olive oil to prevent sticking. Otherwise, just hang the noodles over the edge of the colander.

In a medium bowl, mix ricotta, beaten eggs, Parmesan, remaining parsley and 1 teaspoon salt. Mix with a wooden spoon or rubber spatula. Gently stir in baby spinach, if you’re using it.

Preheat oven to 350°F.

To assemble:

Arrange 4 cooked lasagna noodles in the bottom of a 9 X 13 baking pan, overlapping if necessary. Spoon half the cheese mixture over the noodles. Spread evenly. Spoon a little less than half of the meat sauce on top of the ricotta. Next, sprinkle a layer of grated mozzarella. (Note: we used sliced mozzarella based on the recommendation of someone who shall remain nameless. Either pony up the cash for grated mozzarella or use a grater. A food processor will get the job done nicely, too.)  Repeat steps, ending with meat sauce mixture. Sprinkle generously with extra Parmesan.

Bake for 30-35 minutes, until the top is hot and bubbly. Let stand for 15 minutes before you serve it.

Justin browning beef and Italian sausage.

Cheese, meat and pasta...yum.

Hot bubbly goodness. Let it sit for about 15 minutes so it all sets up. It's worth the wait!

Browning the barley with mushrooms and carrots.

Every year, about this time, I yearn for spring. My anticipation stems primarily from my love of baseball and being outdoors without having to wear a parka. I love spring because the world seems awash in color; bright green grass and trees basking in the sun, daffodils and crocuses popping up everywhere.

Back to reality: it’s January in Colorado, which means it’s cold, gray and snowing. It’s the perfect weather to spend inside in the kitchen making something to warm your soul and wait out winter.

This morning I was thinking about mushrooms. I love mushrooms because they smell like the earth. I can’t think of a more organic smell than mushrooms. I would eat sautéed mushrooms everyday if I didn’t think it was ridiculous.

I came across Mark Bittman’s recipe for Mushroom and Barley Soup. It’s extremely easy – chop up your veggies, sauté the mushrooms and carrots together, then brown the barley, add broth and let it cook away. It tastes so hearty, that the only accompaniment you need with it is some good crusty bread…and I don’t even like bread.

For this soup, I used about 12 ounces of mushrooms total (8 ounces baby portabella, 2 ounces fresh shiitake and roughly 2 ounces of rehydrated wild mushrooms). Bittman doesn’t call for onion in his mushroom soup, but I like the flavor.

I chopped up half onion and sautéed it in 2 tablespoons of olive oil. I sautéed two sliced carrots and the (cleaned and quartered) mushrooms (including the rehydrated ones; squeeze out the liquid and save it). Add a cup of pearled barley and sauté until browns; it should have a nutty aroma.

Then, add liquid. If you want vegetarian soup use 6 cups of vegetable broth and/or water. I had leftover chicken stock and purchased vegetable broth. Add a bay leaf and salt and pepper to the pot, and bring to a boil. I immediately put the soup into a slow cooker and let it simmer for about 20 minutes, until the barley soaked up the liquid and the grains split. Cooked barley looks somewhat like brown rice.

The soup is perfect for winter, but the earthiness of the mushrooms make me look forward to spring.

If you have Mark Bittman’s “How to Cook Everything”, the recipe is on page 139. If you have the iPhone app, it’s listed under “Vegetable Soups”.

Baby Bellas

I hope you have the opportunity to make this very easy and satisfying meal.

Mushroom and Barley Soup.