warm mushroom salad with bacon vinaigrette, blue cheese & poached egg

All that talk of forgoing mushrooms and bacon for love...and here I give you a salad with warm mushroom bacon vinaigrette? Let me explain myself. I'm a hot-blooded, human girl. I have needs. 


Bacon and mushroom needs. Creamy red leaf lettuce tossed with shallots, warm cremini mushrooms, sherry vinegar, bacon, and fresh herbs, sprinkled with Amish blue cheese, and topped with a poached egg: this salad was my afternoon tryst, my little something on the side.   I ate it slowly sitting cross-legged at the dining room table to the sounds of Leonard Cohen's dulcet voice and my fork clinking on the plate. Nothing but pale smudges of egg yolk and the odd pepper flake remained. I'm not sorry, and I'd do it again.

This salad is intuitive. When asked to describe my cooking style I often refer to it as equal parts grandma and grand-mére, and this is a reflection of that, mixing elements from the French classic "friseé aux lardons" and the trailer park tradition from the American south, a wedge of iceberg lettuce with blue cheese dressing and bacon (both personal favorites).  This combination of ingredients requires no epiphany. It's not a subtle arrangement and wants for nothing in regards to flavor. It's salty, tart, smokey, earthy, creamy, crisp, fresh, herbacious, umami.... shall I go on? It's a meal in and of itself, and with a hunk of crusty bread it would be a hearty meal. Hmm. Which just made me realize this salad would make a fantastic sandwich. Crusty bread, crisp lettuce, bacon, egg (fried over easy perhaps), blue cheese, mushrooms, a nice lemony herbed aioli, and once tomatoes come into season...Yes. A dressed up BLT with places to go (my mouth). 

Salads of any sort become exponentially better the fresher your ingredients are, and shopping for what you can at the farmer's market will ensure that you have the freshest, most flavorful ingredients. I had this rather voluptuous head of red leaf lettuce from Circle S Farms at the Main St. Farmer's Market, but I would also really like to try this with arugula and/or friseé, maybe a duck, guinea, or quail egg, and some chanterelles. Lardons, pancetta, or proscuitto would play nice too. So would tomatoes. The basic profile of this salad allows for plenty of experimenting and substitution, and vegetarians fret not: if you aren't a craven bacon eater such as myself, you won't miss it. But I would have.

This recipes is an approximation as generally the only measurement I use when cooking is a "delicious looking amount". Adjust according to your preferences and availability of ingredients. I made this as a large salad for one.

Salad With Warm Bacon Mushroom Vinaigrette and Poached Egg

• 2 cups of greens (I used red leaf because it's what I had on hand)
• 1/2 tsp chopped chives, plus more for garnish
• 1/2 tsp roughly chopped fresh thyme
• 5 cremini mushrooms, washed, stemmed, and sliced
• 1/2 small shallot, diced
• 2 slices of bacon
• 2 Tbsp sherry vinegar
• 1 fresh egg
• 1 Tbsp distilled white vinegar
• 2 oz blue cheese, crumbled
• 2 Tbsp sherry vinegar
• olive oil (optional)
• sea salt salt
• fresh cracked pepper

Wash and dry greens and tear or cut them into bite sized pieces.

Fry bacon over medium heat until crisp and golden. Transfer to a paper towel lined plate, blot, and set aside. Add shallot to bacon grease and cook, stirring, one minute. Add mushrooms and sauté until the mushrooms have released their liquid and are golden brown. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Add 2 T sherry vinegar (a nice red or white wine vinegar works well here too). Boil for 5 seconds. Remove from heat.

Bring a sauce pan half full of water to a simmer. Add 1 tablespoon of distilled white vinegar. Crack your egg into a small saucer or cup. Stir the water vigorously with a spoon or whisk to create a vortex in the center. Gently tip the egg into the vortex and simmer for about 3 minutes, until the white is set and the yolk is still runny.

Crumble or slice bacon into roughly 1/4 inch pieces and add back to the mushroom pan. Heat the mushrooms and bacon on med low to warm while the egg poaches. Add a small splash of good olive oil if the pan looks to dry to you. Taste and adjusting seasoning using vinegar, salt, and pepper.

Remove egg with a slotted spoon, blot dry on paper towels, and season with a pinch of sea salt salt and freshly grated pepper.

Pour warm vinaigrette over greens, sprinkle with blue cheese and fresh herbs, top with the egg, garnish with chives, and serve immediately.

ricotta & blueberry tart with honey, lemon & lavender

I love a strange bird. He dislikes bacon, strawberries, popsicles, hollandaise, whip cream, stone fruits, pears, apples, and mushrooms. He also dislikes blue jeans, the internet, and suntans preferring instead tailored slacks, Romantic poetry, and pallor. Not wanting to misrepresent him or engage in hyperbole, I asked, "So, do you really hate all stone fruits?"

Silence.

"You know peaches, apricots, nectarines, plums...fruit with a pit, a stone."

"Oh. Yeah, I've heard that term before. My grandmother uses that kind of talk... and yes, I hate all of the things you just mentioned."

"And I'm not misrepresenting you when I say you dislike blue jeans, the internet, and suntans?"

"No. I hate all of those things too. This is good, that you're writing this. The internet should know that I exist. That I'm out there. And that I threaten to destroy it."

"Hahaha," I thought. "He hates all the things!" Alas, he wouldn't get the joke. So, Internet, you stand warned.



For all his aversions, he loves kale, eggs in any form, stinging nettles, sweet potatoes, pungent cheeses, and blueberries. He very much likes blueberries, regarding them as the superlative berry. I, however, disagree. I don't dislike blueberries per se, but I've always found them to be a bit of a bore. I'm a raspberry sort of girl, yet I turn down the corner of every blueberry recipe I read. This collection of blueberry tarts, pies, galettes, ice creams, muffins, scones, preserves, and cakes dwarfs my collection of raspberry recipes because, you see, they are a collection of love songs, mine being a kitchen sort of love: a milk spill tea leaf affection, dusky blue and sweet.

Food dislikes and likes have been a source of discord, real discord, in previous relationships. I had a hard time abiding picky or what I regarded as pedestrian eaters. One man preferred fast food hamburgers and chicken fingers to all other foods, and another was always wanting quite literally meat and potatoes, yet another had a penchant for Lean Cuisine and ordering chicken teriyaki when we went out for sushi. All of this drove me to very genuine frustration. Now, of course, I know that it wasn't their food preferences that bothered me. We were ill suited, and my love was the selfish sort that resents giving, conceding, and compromise of any sort. Even the sort of compromise that is going for Thai when I want Italian.

In telling contrast, I haven't cooked a mushroom since we began seeing one another, I rarely fry bacon, and I've made a blueberry tart today. And I haven't resented any of it, not at all. Bacon and strawberries are obvious sacrifices, but it should be noted that I absolutely adore mushrooms. Sautéed in butter and wine, they were a childhood favorite, an early sign of culinary tendencies.  This is how I know my sentiments are real: eschewing mushrooms, bacon, and strawberries and amassing a collection of blueberry recipes without vexation.

Homemade ricotta leftover from the weekend was, I knew, starred to become a tart filling, as I love nothing more than whole milk ricotta with ribbons of sourwood honey swirled in it. I eat it like ice cream with a spoon. After considering various flavor combinations I decided to make a ricotta tart with honey, lemon, and lavender, all of it topped with fresh blueberries. I tried to write a song once, I guess it was a love song. It began with the lyric "lavender and honey, loss and misery..." I never got any further than that. I'm not, it turns out, a songstress. Most of my relationships prior didn't get much further than that either. I have been, until now, unlucky in love. I suppose that makes me most especially grateful, leading me, starry-eyed, to effusively bake with blueberries. I leave you with my version of a love song: bursts of violet fruit & bright citrus with floral whorls of honeyed lavender in curds of creamy homemade ricotta punctuated by buttery flakes of tender pastry crust. 


After he ate it, he praised me: "You did a good *%#!ing job, woman. Well done, you." Oh, love.

The recipe. I used Thomas Keller's Buttery Pastry Shell as my base. I'm obsessed with it. I had, shall we say...difficulties with pie crusts when I first attempted them. This was the first crust I was successful with and it's so good for both savory and sweet fillings that I use it for everything. You make it in a stand mixer. I know, right? Stupid easy. Buttery. Flaky. I mean, it's Thomas Keller. I used this recipe to make the ricotta cheese.

Ricotta & Blueberry Tart with Honey, Lemon, and Lavender

•Thomas Keller's Buttery Pastry Crust, rolled out to fit your pan (I use a removable bottom tart pan), scraps saved for another use

• 1 cup homemade wholemilk ricotta (or store bought)
•1/4 cup goat cheese
•1/4 cup cream cheese
•2 tsp ground dried lavender
•4-5 Tbsp honey (sweeten to your taste)
•juice of half a lemon
•zest of half a lemon
•1 pint fresh blueberries (you could use more if you wanted, it's just what I had)



Preheat oven to 325º.

Fully bake your crust: bake for 30-40 minutes with pie weights in it (I class it up with aluminum foil filled with dries beans/rice that I keep in a garbage bag in my pantry...). Remove weights and continue to bake until golden brown, about another ten minutes. It may take longer.

Remove and let shell cool fully on a rack. While the shell cools mix all of the ingredients except the blueberries in a mixing bowl to combine fully. Taste and adjust to your liking. Fill shell with the cheese mixture, top with fresh blueberries, and dust with powdered sugar. Serve at room temperature or chilled.

 

eggs benedict from scratch: buttermilk english muffins, blender hollandaise & link41 bacon

 

First, a clarification. When I say from scratch, I do not mean Michael Ruhlman's definition of "from scratch". I did not cure my own Canadian bacon; I didn't even use Canadian bacon. And I certainly didn't raise my own chickens or pig. I used chewy American bacon, cured just down the road on Main St. by Link 41. So, while not home cured, it's hometown cured at least. But I did make homemade buttermilk English muffins and hollandaise from scratch. Now that my conscience is clear, I think I'll wax historo-poetic about eggs.

The origins of eggs Benedict are disputed, both how they came into the world and how they came into my life. As to how they came into my life, I can't quite remember. I do know that I spent up until my twenties insisting on my eggs over-well. It's pitiful but true. But, once suspicious of egg yolks, I now love them as much as summer tomatoes, and they are an object of obsession and affection. I have almost three dozen eggs in my refrigerator at this very moment. Those fragile ellipses have seemingly endless incarnations, possessed of mage like powers to shape-shift. Yet, they are humble and ubiquitous, taken for granted. 

Whether I'm cracking a speckled quail egg, a marmoreal duck egg, or a fresh chicken egg with dirt still clinging to its shell there is always something mythic about the egg; they wear their metaphor on their sleeve. Eggs Benedict is the sort of treatment I think an egg deserves every once in a while. Soft boiled with a pinch of sea salt, they are a complete experience in and of themselves, but once in a while it's nice to dress them up and give them a twirl. 

There are a few claims as to the origin of eggs Benedict, but my favorite story (and the one I choose to believe) is that a hungover Wall Street stock broker of the name Lemuel Benedict walked into the Waldorf hotel with a hangover and ordered, or rather I like to think that it was his hangover that ordered, "buttered toast, poached eggs, crisp bacon, and a hooker of hollandaise." It sounds like the sort of thing the body would demand, something intuitive. And I like to think that was the inception of what has come to be known as eggs Benedict, the toast replaced with a porous english muffin so that the creamy yolk mingles with lemony hollandaise in its nooks & crannies. 

I grew up on English muffins with butter. I can remember watching "David the Gnome" in our breakfast nook, eating an English muffin. I'd never made them before, hadn't really thought to make them. Whenever there is a special occasion, Mother's Day or her birthday, my mother requests eggs Benedict. Usually if I'm making it, I'm making it for her. Nine times out of ten at least. She fell for eggs Benedict at the New Orleans brunch institution Brennan's, and subsequently fell in love with me coming over and making it. Having lived in New Orleans for four years during collegs and having missed it terribly ever since, I can empathize with the craving. I knew this last time she asked that I had to make English muffins from scratch, as I'm no longer the sort that can abide buying such things at the super market. And I like to know how to make all the things. So I turned to Michael Ruhlman, as I so often do, and of course he has an entire post devoted to eggs Benedict from scratch. Using that as my reference, I embarked on making English muffins. 

About two years ago I made eggs Benedict (for my mother) using Ruhlman's traditional hollandaise recipe based on Escoffier's recipe flavored with a sec (a vinegar reduction) and followed his two hollandaise tips: pay attention and don't let it know you're afraid of it (apparently hollandaise can smell fear). It was a beautiful success, satisfying in it's traditional method and nuanced. Since I was taking on English muffins for the first time I opted to make the less labor intensive blender hollandaise, which is fantastically easy, stable, and most importantly, perfectly delicious. Mine came out quite thick and I kept it warm in a coffee thermos set in a warm place (between the burners on my stove) and thinned it with a little warm water as needed when time to serve. Ideally, I like to make a traditional hollandaise, but this version is so incredibly quick and painless that, with a few frozen homemade English muffins popped in the oven, you can make eggs Benedict virtually any time without any stress at all. If you love it as much as I do, this is fantastic news. Made with local eggs & butter, I was licking it off of my fingers. 

Ruhlman also has a recipe for sourdough English muffins. The sour character sounded lovely to me, but I didn't have time (nor do I have much experience) for a sourdough starter. So I opted to make a buttermilk version. 

And I want to note, if the blender hollandaise sounds like cheating to you: Ruhlman approves (I need Ruhlman's approval, like a father's... a father that doesn't know you exist) calling it "fast and fabulous", and he too acknowledges the hangover curing properties of eggs Benedict "when the head is a bit thick and the stomach a bit delicate from the previous night’s revelry". So whether it's Mother's day or you're hungover or just hungry, it is hardly an over-statment to say that this is a perfect breakfast. And it always feels special. No matter where you are or how easy it is.

Blender Hollandaise

from Marlene of CooksKorner via Michael Ruhlman

• 3 (preferably local) egg yolks at room temperature
• 3/4 cups of butter, unsalted
• 1 – 1 1/2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
• 1 teaspoon dijon mustard
• pinch of cayenne

1. Melt butter in a small saucepan.
2. Place the eggs, lemon juice, cayenne and mustard in a blender. Blend for a minute until nicely combined.
3. Pour the butter through the hole in the top of the lid of the blender, SLOWLY, with the blender at high speed. This should take about 10-15 seconds to blend and thicken. You will hear the change as it thickens. Trust me, you’ll know.

Makes about a cup

Homemade Buttermilk English Muffins

adapted from Michael Ruhlman

• 2 ounces/60 grams butter (I used raw local butter that I get over at the Brainerd Market)
• 1 tablespoon sugar
• 16 ounces buttermilk (450 grams) (I used Cruze Farms buttermilk)
• 1 package active dry yeast (1-1/2 teaspoons, .25 ounces or 7 grams)
• 1 large egg, beaten (from the Main St. Market on Wednesday)
• 16 ounces all-purpose flour/450 grams (or four fluffed cups)
• 1-1/2 teaspoon kosher salt (.25 ounces or 7 grams)
• 2 teaspoons baking powder dissolved in 1 tablespoon of water
• cornmeal for dusting

1. Combine the butter and sugar in a small sauce pan, stirring to dissolve the sugar.  Add the milk, stir it and remove it from the heat.  Stir in the yeast and the egg.
2. Combine the flour and salt in mixing bowl.  Add the milk mixture and stir till it’s all well combined.  Cover and set aside for 1-1/2 hours, or refrigerate overnight (removing it from the fridge an hour before cooking).
3. Heat a griddle or a skillet over medium heat.  If you’re using rings, butter them.  Stir the dissolved baking powder into the batter.  Dust the griddle or skillet with corn meal.  Scoop-pour about 1/4-cup portions onto the griddle, free form or in rings.  Cook for about seven minutes.  Flip them and continue cooking till done, 7 to 10 more minutes. If not cooked through but fully browned on the outside, you can transfer them to 
4. Move them to a rack to cool at least 10 minutes. They can be eaten immediately after, toasted, or frozen in a ziplock bag once fully cool. Make sure to split your muffins with a fork or your fingers, not a knife, to get the proper craggy surface area. 

Yield: 8 to 12 muffins

Note: I did not use English muffin ring molds and was very happy with their rustic appearance, as I prefer a homemade look. Flipping them is also easier without rings. It took me a few tries to figure out how to make sure they were cooked through. I found finishing them in a 350 degree oven to be the best way to make sure they were not doughy in the center without overcooking them. And I also found this post at Smells Like Home to be very helpful, and I intend to try the recipe she used (Peter Reinhart's from The Bread Baker's Apprentice...basically a bread bible) next. I also want to try Tartine's version. 

Poaching Eggs

Here are Michael Ruhlman's instructions on how to poach an egg. As for me I use only the freshest local eggs with their vibrant orange yolks. Grocery store eggs don't even taste like eggs to me anymore. Otherwise they are next to impossible to poach. I bring a sauce pan of water to a low boil/simmer and add a few teaspoons of distilled white vinegar. I crack my eggs in a small prep bowl, whisk the water to create a whirlpool in the middle, and gently tilt the eggs into the center of the whirlpool. I cook them for about 3 minutes, until the white is just set and the yolk is still runny. I transfer them with a slotted spoon into a bowl of ice water to stop their cooking. Once all of the eggs are poached I put them back into the water for about 30 seconds to one minute to just bring them back up to warm. 

To Serve Eggs Benedict

Fry bacon to your liking. I like to fry mine low and slow. It takes a while, but I love the chewy result, especially with thick cut bacon. I fry it on med-low for ten minutes on each side and then a few minutes per side until done. Transfer to paper towels to drain, making sure to blot the grease. 

Toast an English muffin beneath the broiler until golden brown and top with the bacon, a poached egg, and a generous helping of hollandaise. Sprinkle with chopped chives and serve with a light green salad. 

Vegetarian Option, Eggs Florentine

Simply substitute a handful of fresh baby spinach for the bacon!

jim lahey's no-knead pizza dough with asparagus, stinging nettles, proscuitto, and homemade ricotta

Jim Lahey's yeast leavened no knead pizza dough with homemade ricotta, proscuitto, local roasted purple & green asparagus, and sorrel & basil pesto. Want to learn to make it? Come visit me tomorrow between 10-1 at the River Market at the Tennessee Aquarium and learn how. 

{You can find the full recipe below as well as my favorite ricotta recipe}

I'm sitting on my front porch sipping chocolate goat's milk & staring at my wild, spindly chives while Patrick sits across from me, smoking cigarettes & reading a small, old book entitled simply "Essays In Criticism" published, 1923. This is an airy, brief lull in a very busy week & even busier day. 

A colony of yeast leavened pizza dough has taken up residence on my kitchen counter of both the white and whole wheat variety. There are four large mixing bowls of dough to be exact, which, if all goes swimmingly, should yield enough dough for 18 10"-12" pizzas. I'm arming myself with dough for the cooking demo I'm doing at the River Market tomorrow. My thinking: when in doubt make a %$@! ton. I'll be making ricotta cheese and pizzas on which to put said ricotta cheese. In addition to that topping I will have a veritable cornucopia of local goodies: arugula, Sequatchie Cove "Cumberland" cheese, Bonnie Blue goat cheese, Link 41 peperone, farmer's market strawberries, canned summer tomatoes, and some steamed stinging nettles! 

Have I mentioned that I'm scared to death? No? I'm scared to death. I've never cooked in the middle of a market for passers by who may or may not be interested in what I'm doing or saying. I'm also worried that nerves will render me, somehow, unable to shape pizzas and put them beneath a broiler. But I know that it will be at the very least a wonderful learning experience, and at the most it will be a great way to meet people and share my love of cooking and fresh, local ingredients. 

The dough is destined, as I said, for the River Market for Food Revolution Day here in Chattanooga. As the title of my blog indicates, I love local food. I think it better serves our economic interests as a community. I think it's far more ethical for myriad reasons varying from political to animal rights. It's better for our health. It's better for our planet. But what excites me most about fresh produce is how alive it is. Sitting down for a meal is one of the most fundamental ways we can connect with our friends and our families. Fresh food grown by your neighbors is vital. It hums. It has color, texture, warmth. It's fun. 

When I think of local food I think of dirt and sun, mason jars full of creamy raw milk, my full bag on my arm. I think about easter egg radishes and nettles, speckled eggs, and baskets of bread. There is excitement as things come into season; food feels special again. Food and eating are a potentially vibrant thread that is woven through each day of our lives. It is time to be human, time for ourselves, time to break bread. We don't take enough time anymore, and it makes us more than unhappy, it makes us sick. 

It may take a little more planning and effort to do shopping at local markets and cooking at home, to eschew processed foods, and eat what's in season, but the pay off is more than worth it. You will rediscover food. After eating a fresh summer tomato you realize that whatever those spherical red fruits are at the super market in February are, they aren't tomatoes. You will taste food like you've never tasted it from the grocery store. And you will be getting it from farmers that are your neighbors and that will become, in time, your friends. So, if you're interested in learning more about local food and home cooking or are already a dyed in the wool locavore, join us tomorrow along with 500 others cities in 57 countries in standing up for local food. All the grim statistics in the world cannot bring about real change. But people people like you can. Let's. 

So. About this pizza. Around midnight last night I mixed the bowls. It took me less than half an hour to mix all that dough. It goes like this: mixing bowl on digital scale, dump 1000g of all purpose flour into said mixing bowl, add 1 tsp of dry active yeast and 4 tsp of kosher salt. Stir with a whisk to combine well. Slowly pour in three cups of water, stirring with a wooden spoon until well combined. This is the only part that takes a little elbow grease. Gather dough into a ball and transfer to a large, clean bowl. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and leave to sit at room temperature for 18 hours. I have heard you can let it sit for as little as 6. But 18 is more better. And I've let it sit 19, 20 hours and had a lovely dough. I then set my thermostat for 72 degrees (which is what Jim Lahey says is the optimal room temperature for the dough. You don't have to do this.  I just like to.), and I was then free to spend the rest of my evening having a dysfunctional relationship with photoshop and watching documentaries until the wee hours of the morning. And that is how I make the best homemade pizza dough I've ever had. It's better than what you can get at 90% of pizza joints. Unless you live in NYC, of course. But around here... 

The next day, an hour and a half or so before I want to eat, I preheat my oven to 500 F. I turn the mass out onto a floured surface, chop it into 6 pieces with a bench scraper (or three for a half recipe as is pictures below), fold the corners in so they look like little dumplings, and then flip them over and let them rest one last hour under a damp kitchen towel. While they rest, I put my pizza stone in the oven. If you are using a baking sheet you can skip this step. The sheet doesn't need to be preheated. This hour can then be used for productive things like tidying up, watering plants. Or interneting. Which is what I inevitably use it for. 

Once the stone is hot and the dough well rested, one at a time I dust each dough ball generously with flour and shape into a 10"-12" round on a well floured work surface. I use the word round loosely. I'm no expert pizza tosser. I do not stand in my kitchen, dough whirling about over my head forming a perfect circle. My method is the "flop/stretch/curse under your breath at the dough" method. It works well. 

Once a dough ball has been shaped into a somewhat pizza looking shape, I put it on a pizza peel sprinkled with cornmeal or flour (I like cornmeal), brush it lightly with olive oil and top with whatever I have from the market that week & whatever sounds good to me. You can really put anything on a pizza. Ricotta, proscuitto, and nettles was a coup. Note: Do not touch uncooked stinging nettles without gloves. They sting. To render them safe to eat, steam them for at least 5 minutes. I usually go for 5-10 depending on how many I have. They should be nicely wilted and thoroughly cooked. Make sure and save the water for honeyed peppermint & nettle tea! Incredibly nourishingTry grilled peaches & marscapone with honey. The two pizzas pictured are topped with local roasted purple and green asparagus, proscuitto, crumbled local goat cheese, and homemade ricotta mixed with sorrel & garlic scape pesto and nettles, proscuitto, pesto, and ricotta respectively.

Jim Lahey's No Knead Pizza Dough

from Bon Appétit 

Makes six 10"–12" pizzas, recipe can be halved and even quartered

active time: 90 minutes total time: 20 1/2 hours

Ingredients

• 7 1/2 cups all-purpose flour (1000 grams) plus more for shaping dough (you can substitute whole wheat flour, white whole wheat, and whole wheat pastry flour for all or a portion of this)
• 4 teaspoons fine sea salt
• 1/2 teaspoon active dry yeast
• 3 cups water

Preparation

• Whisk flour, salt, and yeast in a medium bowl. While stirring with a wooden spoon, gradually add 3 cups water; stir until well incorporated. Mix dough gently with your hands to bring it together and form into a rough ball. Transfer to a large clean bowl. Cover with plastic wrap and let dough rise at room temperature (about 72°) in a draft-free area until surface is covered with tiny bubbles and dough has more than doubled in size, about 18 hours (time will vary depending on the temperature in the room).
• Transfer dough to a floured work surface. Gently shape into a rough rectangle. Divide into 6 equal portions. Working with 1 portion at a time, gather 4 corners to center to create 4 folds. Turn seam side down and mold gently into a ball. Dust dough with flour; set aside on work surface or a floured baking sheet. Repeat with remaining portions.
• Let dough rest, covered with plastic wrap or a damp kitchen towel, until soft and pliable, about 1 hour. DO AHEAD: Can be made 3 days ahead. Wrap each dough ball separately in plastic wrap and chill. Unwrap and let rest at room temperature on a lightly floured work surface, covered with plastic wrap, for 2–3 hours before shaping.
  
  
  
  

To Make the Pizzas

• During the last hour of dough's resting, prepare oven: If using a pizza stone, arrange a rack in upper third of oven and place stone on rack; preheat oven to its hottest setting, 500°–550°, for 1 hour. If using a baking sheet, arrange a rack in middle of oven and preheat to its hottest setting, 500°–550°. (You do not need to preheat the baking sheet.)
• Working with 1 dough ball at a time, dust dough generously with flour and place on a floured work surface. Gently shape dough into a 10"–12" disk.
  
  
  
  

If Using Pizza Stone

• When ready to bake, increase oven heat to broil. Sprinkle a pizza peel or rimless (or inverted rimmed) baking sheet lightly with flour. Place dough disk on prepared peel and top with desired toppings.
• Using small, quick back-and-forth movements, slide pizza from peel onto hot pizza stone. Broil pizza, rotating halfway, until bottom of crust is crisp and top is blistered, 5–7 minutes.
• Using peel, transfer to a work surface to slice. Repeat, allowing pizza stone to reheat under broiler for 5 minutes between pizzas.
  
  
  
  

If Using a Baking Sheet

• Arrange dough disk on baking sheet; top with desired toppings. Bake pizza until bottom of crust is crisp and top is blistered, about 10 minutes. Transfer to a work surface to slice. Repeat with remaining pizzas.

You can find Jim Lahey's book "My Pizza" here. If you try this dough, you'll want the book. For my whole wheat pizza dough I substituted unbleached white whole wheat flour for 3/4ths of the all-purpose. You could make it even more whole wheaty by using whole wheat pastry dough in place of the all purpose flour or experiment with other whole grain flours.

Rich Homemade Ricotta

from Smitten Kitchen, and inspired by Salvatore Ricotta, via Tasting Table

This cheese can be made using all milk, 3 cups milk and 1 cup cream, or for a compromise, 3 1/2 cups milk and 1/2 cup cream. It can also be made using vinegar in place of the lemon juice. Apple cider vinegar is particularly good. 

Makes about 1 generous cup of ricotta

3 cups whole milk
1 cup heavy cream (see above about using less)
1/2 teaspoon coarse sea salt
3 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice

Pour the milk, cream and salt into a 3-quart nonreactive saucepan. Attach a candy or deep-fry thermometer. Heat the milk to 190°F, stirring it occasionally to keep it from scorching on the bottom. Remove from heat and add the lemon juice, then stir it once or twice, gently and slowly. Let the pot sit undisturbed for 5 minutes.

Line a colander with about 4 layers layers of cheesecloth, you are going to want it pretty thick as the curds are very small, almost invisible. Don't worry, it's supposed to be this way. The less cream you use, the bigger the curds will be. Place it over a large bowl (to catch the whey). Pour the curds and whey into the colander and let the curds strain for at least an hour. At an hour, you’ll have a tender, spreadable ricotta. At two hours, it will be spreadable but a bit firmer, almost like cream cheese. (It will firm as it cools, so do not judge its final texture by what you have in your cheesecloth.) Discard the whey, or, if you’re one of those crafty people who use it for other things, of course, save it. Eat the ricotta right away or transfer it to an airtight container and refrigerate until ready to use.