Mother’s Day is coming up soon, and shortly afterwards, my own role in motherhood is going to be expanding (hopefully, in an inverse ratio to my waistline, which has already expanded plenty), so you could say I have mothers on the brain. All of this makes me appreciate my own mother more and more. Which is not surprising, because my mom is awesome sauce.

My mother is the most shockingly competent person I have ever met in my life. Sure, there are really smart people. And sure, there are kickass homemakers. And sure, there are independent women. But my mom manages to combine all of those and make it seem easy. She’s worked full time since before I was born, is a distinguished professor at her academic institution, and has written at least six books (I’ve lost count) and dozens of scholarly articles, all of which make her an expert in her field. Does that mean we ate takeout Chinese food every night through my childhood? Of course not. She’s a terrific cook. My mother makes the world’s best fried chicken, the world’s best Caesar salad, and the world’s best cabbage rolls. She sews (she made both my prom dress and my wedding dress), does projects around the house (paints, wallpapers, rebuilds decks), and travels around the world (this summer will be spent in Oxford, touring wool churches and doing research). She also spends a ton of time with the Nuni, and does my dishes every time she visits my house (which is fairly often, as I was smart enough to buy a house two minutes away from hers.)

So yeah, my mom? She’s pretty much the bomb.
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Read the rest of Roasted Garlic, Red Pepper and Goat Cheese Canapes, or Why My Mom is Awesome Sauce (373 words)

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2012. | Permalink |
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My father didn’t just love tradition, he loved ritual. He wouldn’t just visit the same city over and over again, he would stay at the same hotel, visit the same restaurant, and order the same dishes off the menu. He was especially particular about holidays: not just turkey gravy and stuffing — GIBLET gravy and this bread stuffing. (Although he called it dressing, even though he also insisted on stuffing the turkey with it.) If we were eating Thanksgiving dinner at someone else’s house, my mom always had to roast her own turkey (usually for charity) so we could make giblet gravy and bread stuffing. The man was obsessed.

Thanksgiving morning would see our family gathering around the kitchen table. My father and I would each have a cutting board and a knife — my mother would be standing at the stove, presiding over a large pan of sauteeing vegetables. Dad and I divided up the chopping duties — I took celery and onions, he cubed the loaves of white bread. The kitchen smelled of sage and onions, and we would snitch bits of stuffing — a crust of bread, a cube dipped in the oniony, celery sage butter, before it was ceremoniously added to the turkey, when the smell of poultry and sage would sneak out from the kitchen and fill the whole house.

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Read the rest of Old School Sage Stuffing (440 words)

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2011. | Permalink |
Post tags: dressing, holiday, stuffing, Thanksgiving

The holidays are so much more than a single day. They’re an excuse for gatherings of friends and family, shared stories, and shared meals. A cook during the holidays is always looking for recipes to feed a crowd — for dinners, buffets, lunches, brunches, cocktail parties. Turkey is an obvious choice, roast beef a luxe one, but another great (and economical) dish that will feed a crowd with a lot of payoff for a little effort is a baked ham.

Farmer John is a name practically synonymous with hams, but what I didn’t know is that they are based right here in Los Angeles, and have been for 80 years. I love supporting local businesses and industry — one of the things I love about living in Los Angeles is how economically diverse the region is. Furthermore, Farmer John really emphasizes their local ties and origins. When they approached me to develop a recipe using Farmer John ham and local ingredients, I was happy to work with them.

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Read the rest of Pomegranate Glazed Ham and Giveaway {Sponsored Post} (642 words)

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2011. | Permalink |
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I like Halloween, I do. Costumes and candy and creepy crawlies are all lovely. But when the calendar turns to November, my heart starts to beat a little faster. We’re into my favorite time of year — the Holidays, Thanksgiving and Hanukah and Advent and Christmas and New Year. A time when my kitchen is filled with warmth and laughter and the smell of wonderful foods cooking and baking. And a time when our focus turns on gathering — with friends and with family, to warm up this dark time of the year.

With all the holiday entertaining, it’s nice to have a couple of good appetizers up your sleeve — something that can be served to guests or brought along to a party. Something that can liven up a meal of leftovers, or even make for lunch on the day when a festive dinner is taking up your attention. This chicken liver mousse is one of my absolute favorites. It can (should) be made ahead, is just decadent enough, and is cheap to make. I buy organic, air-chilled chicken livers at Whole Foods (because they always have them) and they cost $1.50 for the whole recipe’s worth.

I wish I could take credit for this recipe, but it 100% belongs to Michel Richard, who is one of those great chefs (at least based on this recipe, my favorite from his cookbook). The technique is a little eyebrow-lifting — pureeing raw livers is probably more worthy of Halloween than the Holidays, but the absolutely smooth and creamy results are worth it. Richard calls this “faux-gras” because the texture and richness is reminiscent of foie gras, and he’s right on the money. Foie Gras for the 99%, for Californians after the ban takes effect. Try it — I suspect it will become a mainstay for you, too.

Recipe
Chicken Liver Mousse
The surface of the mousse turns a funky gray color when you cook it. Richard includes a recipe for a parsley gelee to top it with, but I never get around to making it, and nobody really cares about it. Baking it in a cute jar, instead of a ramekin, aids in presentation. I like to serve this with baguette, apples slices and cornichons.

1/2 c. finely chopped onions
1 stick butter, divided
1/4 c. cream
pinch salt
1/2 lb chicken livers

Preheat oven to 300 degrees.

In a small saucepan over low heat, saute the onions in 1 T of the butter until the onions are translucent. Add the cream, cover, and simmer over low heat until the onions are soft, about 5 minutes. Add the remaining 7 T butter, and return to the heat until the butter is melted. Let the mixture cool to warm. This mixture will make your kitchen smell like heaven, and also will taste divine. Try to leave some for the mousse.

In a food processor or blender, combine the butter onion mixture and the raw chicken livers, and process until smooth. For ultra smoothness, strain the mixture through a fine mesh sieve into a 16 oz. ramekin or canning jar (I often skip the straining because I’m lazy like that).

If using a ramekin, cover tigthtly with foil, and if using a jar, seal the lid, and place into a baking dish. Add boiling water to half way up the container, then place in the hot oven and bake for 30 minutes. Let cool, and chill in the refrigerator until serving.

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2011. | Permalink |
Post tags: appetizer, chicken, Entertaining, Hors D'oeuvre, make ahead, offal

Labor Day weekend is bittersweet, like the end of an affair. Three days of sunshine, of flip-flops, of beaches and barbecue. But Tuesday lurks around the corner, like a raincloud with the smell of ozone to the air. There’s almost a sense of desperation — just one more cookout! — before fall settles in, with its dark evenings, the smell of cinnamon and freshly-sharpened pencils, and its long march to winter.

I’ve been busy collecting summer, whether it’s making just one more fresh fruit pie, canning a batch of tomato jam, downing bottles of rose, or just sneaking outside to enjoy the sunset. I keep getting ideas and checking them off the list: Hollywood Bowl tickets, picnics, Lemonade! And one of my favorite summer foods is potato salad. I wanted to get in one more potato salad before roast potatoes become de rigueur.

I love old fashioned potato salad made by my grandmother, but this isn’t that. I also love newfangled potato salads, but this isn’t that, either. This is potato salad reduced to its essentials — a little mayonnaise, a sprinkle of tart vinegar, the oniony breath of chives, and at the end, a dusting of lemon, to add aroma and color, to wake the tastebuds and make the salad sing. It’s hardly a recipe at all, but it’s well worth making all the same, in this last weekend of summer.
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Read the rest of Essential Potato Salad (174 words)

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2011. | Permalink |
Post tags: Potato Salad, Quick, salad, Vegetarian, weeknight

Sometimes, I want to spend time in the kitchen. I want to smell and chop and stir and taste and really EXPERIENCE cooking. Sometimes, I want to go about my life. I want to watch the Superbowl, go to work, read to my daughter, talk with my husband, play with the new puppy. But just because I don’t want to spend time cooking doesn’t mean I want to eat bad food. I still want to eat good, homemade food, made from scratch.

If I want onion dip for a Superbowl party, I could use the classic recipe: open a packet of Lipton’s soup mix and a container of sour cream, mix them together and have a fat bowl of MSG, corn syrup and unpronounceable things with a side of my entire RDA of sodium. Or I could make onion dip from scratch, controlling the ingredients myself, adding the right amount of salt, and slowly caramelizing the onions to add depth of flavor. Of course, caramelized onions require a long period of cooking them in a skillet, stirring frequently to make sure they don’t scorch, waiting for those Maillard reactions to hurry up and happen. Or you could just use a crockpot.

A crockpot is the perfect vessel for caramelizing onions — it cooks long and slow and consistently, and it retains liquid so the onions don’t scorch. Best of all, you don’t have to babysit it — you just add the onions, turn it on, and walk away. It’s really only one step removed from opening a packet, and it tastes better and is better for you. A super bowl of dip for the Superbowl (OK, I couldn’t resist the pun.)

Recipe: Crockpot French Onion Dip

Summary: The easy way to make french onion dip from scratch is to caramelize your onions in the slow cooker.

Cooking time (duration): 8 hours

Meal type: snack

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2011. | Permalink |
Post tags: crockpot, Quick, snacks, Vegetarian

Fall themed desserts are all over these days – pumpkin bread puddings, cranberry panna cotta, pecan trifle. And those of us with a confirmed fear of rolling pins grasp at these desperately. But now it’s time to get real. You and I both know that Thanksgiving is about pie. Preferably multiple types of pie. The table should be GROANING with pie. Pumpkin pie, mincemeat pie, apple pie … Panna cotta, while a very lovely dessert, just doesn’t cut it.

Which means, fair readers, that if I’m going to do Thanksgiving right by you, I need to get over my fear of rolling. I need to summon the reserves — the wisdom of the elders, nerves of steel, hands of ice, and my own experience of parenting a three year old, and tell that pie dough, “You are NOT the boss of me. I am the boss. And don’t you forget it.” And then I’m going to fill it with something wonderful — in this case, a variation on the Thanksgiving classic pecan pie made with walnuts and maple syrup and no corn syrup in sight. And then I’m going to tell you all about it.

Let’s start with the crust, shall we? I am tired of feeling anxiety about pie crust. I just want to make it and be done. Which means, for me, ignoring the tips and tweaks, and going back to basics. Armed with Michael Ruhlman’s ratio for 3-2-1 pie dough, Julia Child’s food processor method, Amanda Hesser and Dorie Greenspan’s plastic wrap rolling technique (though Amanda might never forgive me for calling her an elder — sorry Amanda!), I made pie crust. And it took about 3 minutes. Freeze a stick of butter, cut it into cubes (I cut it into about 24 cubes (you can reverse these steps), then pulse it in the food processor with flour and some salt until it’s coarse and uneven (about 9 pulses should do it). Add water in one fell swoop, pulse a couple of times more, then dump it all out onto some plastic wrap, pull the wrap around it until it looks like a disc of dough rather than a pile of crumbs, and chill for about 30 minutes. Then roll it out between two sheets of parchment (Amanda and Dorie use plastic wrap, but mine wrinkles like crazy) using your favorite rolling pin (and I will add that the acquisition of a French Rolling Pin has improved my rolling technique immensely). Peel off one piece of parchment, arrange the dough dough side down over the pie dish, peel off the other piece of parchment, press it in, trim the edges, and use the trimmings to replace any holes or divots. Voila. No gimmicks. It might not be perfect, but a) it will taste good (thank you butter, not Crisco), b) it will be tender and flaky and c) it won’t give you a panic attack.

Now the filling. I love a traditional pecan pie, but it is so sweet my teeth ache just thinking about it. I also don’t love all the corn syrup because it’s messy and has a funky flavor and questionable health effects (though frankly, pie isn’t health food.) When I saw the French Canadian maple sugar pie recipe in Richard Sax’s Classic Home Desserts (which is my desert island dessert book (dessert island?) and should be in your library), my interest was piqued. Instead of pecans, it features walnuts, which give it a lovely bitter edge, and instead of corn syrup, the pie gets texture (and a lot of flavor) from maple syrup (use Grade B, which is not only cheaper but more flavorful.) It has a few other additions which cut the sweetness — apple cider vinegar, which adds an acid bite to counter the sweetness, and brewed tea (I used PG Tips), which adds some more bitterness and also flavor. The combination is a little more layered than the traditional pecan, which is just SWEET and nuts. (Not that I don’t love both sweet and nuts.) Plus, my family is French Canadian, so I was just tickled to have a “heritage” pie in my repertoire.

The best thing, too, is that the filling takes no time at all to mix up and dump into your pie crust, which we’ve already established takes no time at all. So this becomes a quick and low stress dessert. And yes, this is pie we’re talking about.

Now for the other six varieties …

Recipe
Easy Maple Walnut Pie
For the Crust:

6 ounces all purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
4 ounces butter, frozen and cut into 1/2 inch cubes
2 ounces cold cold water

In the food processor, combine the flour and the salt. Throw in the butter, and pulse 9 times — the mixture should look like uneven crumbs. Add the water all at once and pulse a few more times until it’s incorporated. The mixture should resemble dough at this point, but a semi-pebbly dough rather than a homogenous mass.

Dump the entire mixture out onto a sheet of plastic wrap, fold up the sides of the plastic to mush it all together so it is a homogeneous mass. Shape it into a thick disc, and chill in the refrigerator for 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Roll out the dough between two sheets of parchment until it’s about a 12-14 inch circle. Peel off one sheet of parchment and transfer, dough side down, to your 9 inch pie plate. Lay the dough on top. Peel off the second sheet of parchment and press the pastry down into the pie plate. Trim the edges until there’s about a 1/2 inch overhang, then fold that under and pinch it to the pie plate to crimp (the crimping is not just decorative- it helps keep the crust from shrinking down the side of the plate). Use the trimmings to fill in any holes or divots in the dough.

Line the pie crust with foil, then fill with pie weights or dried beans and bake for about 20 minutes. Let cool.

For the filling
(Adapted from Classic Home Desserts)

1 cup walnuts
3 eggs plus 1 egg yolk
3/4 c plus 2 Tablespoons sugar
2 teaspoons molasses
3/4 cup Grade B pure maple syrup
6 Tablespoons butter, melted
1/4 cup brewed black tea
2 Tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1/2 teaspoon salt

Toast the walnuts (I use a toaster oven) then roughly roughly chop them.

In a bowl, whisk the eggs, add the sugar, molasses, maple syrup, melted butter, tea, vinegar and salt and whisk until combined. Add the walnuts and stir.

Set the prebaked pie shell onto a baking sheet lined with aluminum foil. Pour the walnut mixture into the pie crust.
Bake at 450 for 10 minutes, then reduce the heat to 350 and bake for an additional 20-25 minutes, or until the center has just a slightl slight wobble. (Watch the top in the last 10-15 minutes of baking – if it seems to be getting too browned, cover with foil.)

Let cool to room temperature and add to your groaning pie board.

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2010. | Permalink |
Post tags: how-to, maple syrup, pie, Thanksgiving, walnut

Despite having a decent reputation for cooking, a killer turkey recipe and not one but TWO autumnal table runners, I haven’t hosted Thanksgiving since 2004, and I’m thrilled about that. One of the reasons we moved to Los Angeles back in the day was to give our (then unconceived) children the experience of growing up with family holidays, and for Thanksgiving we always have a place at the table at the house of my parents, my grandmother, or one of my aunts. And since family meals in my family are always pot luck, I get the fun of cooking what I want for Thanksgiving without the stress of worrying that I don’t have enough wine glasses, or bringing in extra chairs from the garage.

And while my contribution to the family Thanksgiving varies, I always always make these sweet potatoes. They are not gooey with brown sugar, or covered in marshmallows. What they are is creamy and spicy and sweet and smoky. They’re also easy and practically foolproof and, depending on how liberally you apply the cayenne, almost universally popular.

I never understood why so many sweet potato recipes added additional sweetness, in the form of brown sugar, or orange juice, or marshmallows. Sweet potatoes are already sweet — what I want is to balance the sweetness with saltiness. I like plain baked sweet potatoes with butter and salt, but this dish, with the layers of flavor from the spices, and the richness of the butter and cream and the mellow background of sweet potato, just sings.

Fortunately, making them is a snap. I like to use my Benriner Japanese Mandoline Slicer, which makes the slicing quick and the slices uniform, but PLEASE use the finger guard or you will do what I did LAST Thanksgiving and slice the tip off your finger. True story. Once the potatoes are sliced, you just layer them in a buttered gratin dish, dab each layer with a little more butter (holiday food, not health food), sprinkle with cayenne, smoked paprika, salt and pepper, then pour cream over the whole thing and bake.

A few years ago my grandmother, who is a very, um, traditional cook, hosted Thanksgiving. I told her I was bringing these sweet potatoes and she balked. “My friend Jeannie is coming, ” she said. “And Jean is midwestern. Why don’t you make them with some nice orange juice?” Well, Jeannie is midwestern like Annie Oakley is midwestern, and she had second helpings of sweet potatoes. And even my grandmother enjoyed them.

Recipe
Smoky Spicy Sweet Potato Gratin
3 medium sweet potatoes
3-4 Tablespoons butter, at room temperature
1/2-1 teaspoons cayenne pepper
1-2 teaspoons sweet Spanish smoked paprika
salt and pepper
1 1/2 cups heavy cream

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Peel the sweet potatoes, and using a mandoline, a food processor or a sharp knife and a lot of patience, slice them thinly into even rounds. Set some of the prettiest and most perfect rounds aside for the top layer.

Butter a 14 inch gratin dish. Layer the sweet potatoes in concentric overlapping circles (or ovals) over the bottom of the gratin dish. Dot with a few dabs of butter, sprinkle with cayenne (more is obviously spicier), smoked paprika, a pinch of salt (go lightly on the salt — the smokiness of the paprika adds a salty impression) and a few grinds of black pepper. Repeat with the next layer, and the spices and the butter, until you reach the top, where you’ll use your reserved sweet potatoes.

Pour the cream over the dish, cover tightly with foil and bake 30 minutes. Remove the cover, bake an additional 30 minutes. Serve warm. (I happen to love this cold, but it doesn’t reheat well because the cream tends to separate. You can make it entirely in advance except for the baking part, and pop it in the oven an hour before dinner is served).

Serves 6-8

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2010. | Permalink |
Post tags: Gluten Free, holiday, Thanksgiving, Vegetarian

Last week was my birthday, so I baked myself a birthday cake. I do realize how pathetic that sounds, but baking my own birthday cake is actually something I like to do — I get exactly what I want, I get to bake, which I actually enjoy, and I can milk the pity for all it’s worth (I had to BAKE MY OWN birthday cake!) (and lest you still feel sorry for me, my mother also baked me a birthday cake for the family celebration we had a few days after my birthday.)

I do love all kinds of cakes, but after making both a yellow cake with chocolate frosting AND strawberry cupcakes for the Nuni’s birthday, I wanted something a little more adult for mine. Something a little more complex. Something that wouldn’t be devoured by a little person within minutes of baking. And that something was gingerbread.

Despite promising beginnings, the Nuni has not seen the light on gingerbread, which she currently deems too spicy, which makes it perfect for my evil plan, er, birthday cake. My love of gingerbread is well-documented — I’ve already written about this classic gingerbread and this chocolate gingerbread. For this cake I wanted something a little lighter and cakier, and I found it, once again, in Laurie Colwin’s More Home Cooking. (Colwin reveres gingerbread almost as much as I do, and if you haven’t yet read this book or her other one, Home Cooking, then you should read them. Right now. I’m not kidding. Stop reading this and go get your hands on those books). This gingerbread, titled “Damp Gingerbread”, which Colwin adapts from Delia Smith, the British Martha Stewart (and another featured recipe writer on Savour Fare) is sweeter and less dense than the original gingerbread I posted, and has the added bonus of being flavored not with molasses, but with Lyle’s Golden Syrup, which is a British caramelized sugar syrup that tastes like home and is addictive like crack (and if you know of a cheaper source for this stuff, please let me know. It’s DIVINE on oatmeal).

Much as I love gingerbread all by its lonesome, a cake isn’t a birthday cake for reals until you add frosting. And in the “adult” theme, and the “British” theme, I decided to flavor my icing, a basic and classic buttercream, with scotch whisky, which may just be the best idea I’ve had all year. Like the classic English brandy butter (traditionally served with Christmas plum pudding) only with a deeper, more complex and slightly smoky flavor. The whisky cuts the sweetness that can often mar buttercream, and at the same time rounds it out, making it mellower and more lasting. And the whole shebang complements the spicy richness of the gingerbread.

Happy birthday to me. I’m not sharing.

Recipe
Gingerbread Cake with Whisky Frosting
Cake
Adapted from Laurie Colwin’s More Home Cooking1 can Lyle’s Golden Syrup (about 16 oz. or 1.5 cups)
1 stick butter (8 Tablespoons)
2 cups flour
1 tsp. salt
1.5 tsp. baking soda
1 Tablespoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon allspice
1 egg, beaten
1 cup milk
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Line the bottom of a 9 inch cake pan (2 inches deep) with parchment and spray the sides with baking spray.

Melt butter and syrup together.

Into a bowl mix flour, salt, syrup and spices. Add the syrup and butter mixture and mix well.

Add egg and milk, and stir until the mixture is combined.

Pour into the cake pan and bake at 350 for 45-50 minutes — it’s OK if the cake still seems a bit damp in the center. Let cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then turn out and cool on a rack.

Using a serrated knife, cut the cake in half horizontally. Fill and top with whisky buttercream.

For whisky buttercream:
1/2 cup butter
2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
3 Tablespoons scotch whisky

Combine all ingredients and bake until fluffy.

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2010. | Permalink |
Post tags: birthday, cake, Gingerbread, Laurie Colwin, layer

With Labor Day weekend coming up, and outdoor parties and barbecues on the horizon, it’s good to have a classic guacamole recipe in your back pocket.

Although I don’t have brothers or sisters, I never felt lonely when I was growing up. My mother and father had siblings to spare, and my parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins gathered often — to celebrate birthdays, holidays, half birthdays, television events. One of the main reasons I wanted to move back to Los Angeles from New York was to give the Nuni (then just a twinkle in her parents’ eye) that family and community that I grew up with.

The menu varies — my mother makes mean spare ribs, my aunt often grills sausages. My grandmother’s fallback is barbecued chicken, and the sweet spicy taste of her favored brand of barbecue sauce takes me immediately to childhood summer evenings, shivering in a wet bathing suit while the scent of charcoal smoke fills the air. But whatever the main dish was, we always began with guacamole.

If you grow up in California, avocados are in your blood. They’re available at every roadside stand and farmers’ market, and you probably know someone with a tree in their back yard. And as a result, they show up everywhere — in a green salad, on a BLT, or even on a hamburger. But nothing shows off the nutty flavor and luscious texture of an avocado quite like guacamole.

This is my aunt Suzi’s guacamole recipe. It’s easy and quick to make, spicy and salty, with perfect creamy chunks of avocado, tiny bursts of tomato and the scent of cilantro and lime. To me, it’s the ur guacamole — the one all others aspire to. She makes hers in a molcajete, the traditional lava rock pestle, but I’ve found a cuisinart works just as well. With a few tortilla chips and a glass of white wine, nothing says home to me quite like this guacamole.

Recipe
Guacamole
Always use Hass avocados, the kind with nearly black, very bumpy skin. Their flavor and texture is superior. This recipe is quite spicy (depending on the size and heat of your chiles) — you can reduce the chiles to cut back on the heat, or substitute the serrano for jalapeno.

1/4 small white onion
2 serrano chiles, halved and seeds removed
4 large sprigs fresh cilantro, leaves only
Juice of 1/2 lime
1/4 tsp. salt
2 large Hass avocados
1 large tomato, finely chopped
Additional salt to taste

In a small food processor*, combine onion, chiles, cilantro, lime juice and salt, and process until smooth and liquid. (If using a molcajete, chop the onion and chiles first, then grind with cilantro, juice and salt until smooth).

Cut the avocados in half. Remove pits (I usually smack them with a chef’s knife to bury the edge in the pit, then twist to remove), and scoop the flesh out into a small bowl. Mash with a fork. Don’t let the avocados get too smooth – some remaining chunks are good. Mix in the chile cilantro mixture, add chopped tomatoes, and stir until combined. Salt to taste — I think this guacamole tastes best when it’s a little on the salty side. Serve with tortilla chips.

*I received a cuisinart mini chopper for free from Cuisinart as an attended of Blogher Food 2009.

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2010. | Permalink |
Post tags: avocado, Gluten Free, holiday, vegan, Vegetarian