Photo: taratara69

I know, it sounds strange. But think about it. You eat blueberry muffins, right? And blueberry pie? And blueberry pancakes? All a combo of blueberries and something bready or doughy or crusty. So why not a berry pizza? Besides, it gave me an excuse to use my dad’s pizza stone. You know I’m not one for extra kitchen gadgets, but I have to say that it did wonders for my crust. I am tempted.

And my sweet and savory pizza pie was tempting too. For all three generations that sat down to lunch. So much so that in minutes, it was gone. Leaving us with only good conversation to share.

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Photo: Andy Castro

Call me provincial, but I had never heard of a Monte Cristo sandwich before the Disneyland leg of our California vacation (although I had to wiki it when I got back for the fully story). And now that I’ve tried the deep fried, hammy, cheesy miracle of cooking, I don’t know that I’ll ever order it again. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t amazing. It was. The “New Orleans” cafe served up the perfect combo of sweet and savory. And the ChowPapa and I devoured it while our ChowBaby napped in his stroller.

Yes, this dish is an artery clogger for sure. But Stacie and I stand by our “all things in moderation” motto. So even something as unhealthy as this, because it is also so ridiculously delish, deserves an audience with the ChowBaby at some point before he turns 41 years old. Here’s the recipe I plan on using… once I’ve fully digested the sandwich I ate 10 days ago.
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Photo: pink_fish13

The first big vacation the whole ChowFamily and I took was to Rome when Atticus had just turned 1 year old. That was a big culinary adventure for all of us. And a reminder that some of the most familiar foods can become new again with simple changes. Take pizza, for example. I normally think of it as junk food. But in Rome, pizza became breakfast, lunch, or dinner. With different ingredients, it was healthy, fresh, and light. Something I gladly served Atticus.

In California (yes, when you read this, I’m still there) the pizza can be like that, too. It’s called California Style. A simple thin crust topped with fresh local ingredients. And a reminder that travel can make you (and your little ones) see old foods in a whole new way. Mmm.

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Photo: Annie’s Eats

You’ve heard us say it before, and we’ll say it again (and again and again): the world’s a great big place, and eating is the perfect way to learn all about it! This usually comes to mind while experimenting with a new cuisine or cooking up a dish “from the old country” shared by a friend’s grandma. While eating, we talk about cultural flavor profiles, wonder about the relationship between the ingredients, culture and geography, and ponder the connection between the spices used to those used in other cuisines. But this past weekend, I remembered another way that food opens up the world: it exposes us to our own cities, towns, neighborhoods, and the wonderfully diverse people who live in them.

The obvious way to use food to teach our kids about other cultures is to use cuisine as a springboard for discussing the larger cultures and peoples of faraway countries. But our lessons don’t always have to be so far flung. They can be as simple as learning about our closest neighbors or discovering new nooks of our hometowns.

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Photo: StarWitness

We had a perfect July 4 weekend. Picnics every day with old friends. Atticus’s first official fireworks on the Hudson. Sunny weather (finally!). And, need I say, copious amounts of good food. (I’ll be hounding my friend, Jude, for his barbeque chicken recipe and, with any luck, posting it here soon.)

The ChowFamily even went out for a meal at our local Carroll Gardens’ eatery Buttermilk Channel. Not only was everything fresh and delish, but it was super kid friendly, too. They delivered popovers to the table as soon as we sat down since they obviously know that long waits for food a grumpy ChowBaby makes.

And when the ChowPapa reminisced about the days when I used to make popovers almost every weekend, I was inspired to get back in the game. These things are so easy. Seriously. There’s absolutely no good reason not to bake them all the time. Especially when you make the “mini” version in regular muffin tins so they are perfect handhelds for little fists. I spread ours with Banana Strawberry Butter that I amped up with a bit of flaxseed and wheat germ so I didn’t have to feel guilty when the 3 of us polished off the whole batch.

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I’ve had a funny relationship with figs. See, my father is a fig-a-holic, if you can imagine that. It stems from his youth in Greece, where he ate fresh figs right off of the trees. While he enjoys dried figs, the blood bath begins at the start of every fresh fig season. He knows that, here in the States, he only has from June to September to enjoy figs the way he did during his childhood. And, oh, does he. 

The thing is, figs have a ton of fiber (and are also a good source of potassium and manganese). And too much fiber can cause, well, digestive issues. So my childhood memories of figs are of watching my father eat a bunch, followed by watching my father run to the bathroom. (TMI?!) BUT, once I realized that my father’s tummy trouble was self- (and not inherently fig-) induced, I developed a new appreciation for this luxuriously sweet fruit. 

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