As most people who know us know, in a quirky coincidence we share a birthday: April 28. I often say this means we can never forget one another’s special day (though it also means someone always has to be cooking their own breakfast on their birthday morning!)

Since our birthday fell on a Saturday this year, we decided to stash the critter with my parents and head up for a night in one of our favorite cities, Vancouver, BC. We head north every couple of months – aided by our acquisition last year of the fast-track NEXUS passes to avoid the border wait – to hit up beloved sandwich spots (Meat & Bread), score some world class coffee (49th Parallel in Kits) and get yelled at in Japanese while chomping on briny delicacies (Kingyo Izakaya.)

This time, we splurged a bit on a room at OPUS, a trendy boutique hotel in the sleek Yaletown neighborhood. After checking in, we headed out to West Point Grey for dinner.

We did our usual research when looking for a restaurant worth of birthday dinner. We wanted some place a bit nicer than average, though not bank-breaking, while guaranteed to be a memorable meal. Rigorous searching turned up La Quercia, a casual Italian bistro with a focus on local and seasonal ingredients, a bit off the beaten path out on West 4th but ranked on top restaurant lists by numerous Vancouver publications. It was also nearly impossible to secure seats there, as when we called several weeks in advance we were fortunate to snag the last two spots at the bar at 9pm.

We opted for the $45, seven-course menu “alla famiglia” (there’s also an 11-course option for $60 that includes a fish course, a risotto course and a cheese course – too much!). Similar to omakase with sushi, we simply sat back and ate at the chef’s whim. We started with vitello tonnato, thinly sliced veal with a savory “tuna mayo.” This was followed by a butter lettuce with anchovy-egg dressing and then a killer bone marrow dish where the marrow was mixed with ground veal, returned to the bone and then broiled and served with pickled vegetables.

The two pasta courses were handmade radicchio and walnut mezzaluna with Gorgonzola and potato gnocchi with porcini mushrooms, followed by the main course of local lamb shoulder, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, resting atop a chunky caponata. Practically stuffed (seriously, who could manage 11 courses??) we finished with a small cake served with whipped cream and rhubarb compote.

We were more than satisfied with our choice for dinner. The service was stellar and we cleaned our plates for every course. You can also order a la carte, though if you go I’d highly encourage the alla famiglia menu – it’s such a great deal for that breadth of food.

How to recover from a meal like that? The next morning, we kept it simple with 49th Parallel espresso at Coffeebar in Gastown with a housemade almond croissant and a bacon-cheddar biscuit. After a spin through the up-and-coming shopping district of Main Street in the neighborhood of Mt. Pleasant, we made our way to Chinatown and the infamous Phnom Penh.

Thanks to research of local blogs, we knew to order the deep fried chicken wings and the Beef Luc Lac on Rice with Egg, with a Mango Moo Shake on the side. Ho.ly.Mo.ses. If you like chicken wings, this is a must-visit. Salty, peppery and garlicky as heck, it’s easy to see why they’ve earned a rabid following. The luc lac was addictive, too: savory marinated beef topped with a perfectly cooked fried egg atop a mound of rice. We waited a solid half an hour for a table at 2pm, and the restaurant never slowed down the entire time we were there.

It’s easy to obsess over the food, but part of the joy we get out of visiting Vancouver is simply driving around looking at the scenery, from the futuristic condo towers and urban soccer fields to the blossoming cherry trees and cobblestone streets. We’re lucky we live just a couple hours away.

We’ve been on a bit of a Japanese kick recently. Maybe it was all those izakaya dinners in Vancouver, or buying a bento box cookbook, or Jeremy finally listening to me and visiting Uwajimaya and then proceeding to go back four times in the next week. Regardless, we’ve been eating a lot of Japanese food and still craving more.

So when I saw that Nook was doing a pop-up soba dinner for a week in late February, I emailed in our reservations immediately.

Nook is a tiny breakfast and lunch spot on the “Ave” in Seattle’s University District. I’ve been curious about their homemade biscuits for a while now, but never made it over (and I still REALLY want to try those.) According to Seattle Met, one of Nook’s owners used to work with some chefs in Japan who own a chain of soba noodle shops. Those chefs are in town this week only, churning out homemade soba noodles daily as part of a three-course, buckwheat-based meal.

Soba, as we learned, is both the Japanese word for “buckwheat” (not actually wheat, but closer to rhubarb) and the noodles themselves. They’re eaten either cold with dipping sauce, or hot in broth.

We started with the appetizers. We had: kimpira goba, a sort of marinated/pickled veggies; soba zushi, sushi made with soba noodles instead of rice; soba chips, fried little twists of the grain; and a fresh salad full of unfamiliar vegetables, seaweed and puffed gluten.

They gave us a full chunk of wasabi to grate into the dipping sauce.

The main dish was hot soba, a choice of duck or oyster. My oyster bowl had five plump, lightly sauteed oysters floating in the rich broth. While the soba noodles were addictively slurpable, I really got after the broth that was left over – like some of my favorite ramen broths from places like Tsukushinbo, but not as salty. The main dish came with a trio of tempura: shrimp, scallop and eggplant. We were told to dip the tempura in sauce and in a sprinkling of wasabi salt, which I want to go stock up on in large quantities immediately.

For dessert, they served a buckwheat cake with mascarpone cream served with soybeans in a maple glaze, and then a mochi stuffed with more mascarpone cream and a strawberry. Yeah. Did I mention the entire meal was $10 per person?

We’ve written before about pop-up restaurants, and while I’m sometimes inclined to think it’s a trend on its way out. But then a soba night like this comes along, and it reminds me how this concept can work out quite well in the right scenario.

The Washington football team has one bye week in the 2011 season. Naturally, we decided to spend it at a college football game. We may have a problem.

In our defense, this football game happened to be played in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, where the LSU Tigers were hosting the Florida Gators in an SEC clash in the historic Tiger Stadium in Death Valley. Neither of us had ever been to an SEC football game before, and had always been curious to experience  football culture in the South. We were able to score press passes to the game through some of Jeremy’s connections. Add in 85-degree weather and a local scene known for not messing around when it comes to food and drink? Sold.

So here’s what we learned from our four-day swing through the Big Easy.

• Getting out of the French Quarter is worth it. Sure, we made a routine trip down the smelly, bachelor party-jammed Bourbon Street (and this was at 1pm on a weekday) and made the obligatory visit to Cafe du Monde for beignets and cafe au lait (and a random Jonathan Papelbon sighting.) But our VRBO rental was in the heart of the Garden District and we spent most of our time there and in Uptown, wandering the mansion-lined streets and drinking Abitas in neighborhood bars.
• People are friendly. No, REALLY friendly. Southern hospitality almost doesn’t do it justice. During dinner at Cochon (don’t miss the rabbit & dumplings, oyster & bacon sandwich and apple pie for dessert) we ended up chatting with not only the tables on either side of us, but even the tables next to them. When we commented on how good our neighbor’s soft-shell crab entree looked, she offered us a bite off her plate without missing a beat. No offense, Seattle, but that would never happen here.
• People are friendly, part II. After oysters and gumbo at Casamento’s, we hit up Le Bon Temps Roule for drinks and music. We started chatting with a man at the bar who turned out to be a legendary booster for LSU (as in, supplies all the team’s post-game po’boys from his deli and hasn’t missed a game, home or away, in decades.) After showing us photos on his iPhone of the alligator he’d shot that week, Mike Serio promptly invited us to his tailgate at the game the next day. By the way, this is the same guy who beat Bobby Flay in a muffaletta throwdown.
• SEC football is everything we’d hoped for and more. We arrived in Baton Rouge four hours before the 2:30pm kickoff…and sat in traffic for an hour, barely crawling even before the stadium was in view. The tailgates stretched for miles around campus, with yellow and purple-clad fans drinking, eating, blasting music and chanting “Tiger Bait!” at anyone foolish enough to wear blue and orange. After parking, we meandered over to The Chimes for pre-game drinks and then picked up some boudin balls to snack on on our way to Serio’s tailgate. He greeted us with beer and alligator sausage, plus the best barbecued pork I’ve ever had in my life.
• Oh wait, that was all just the tailgate. The stadium and game experience was just as much of a sensory overload. Our passes gave us sideline access during the pre-game, where we watched the players warm up as 94,000 fans packed into their seats. Upstairs in the pressbox, we enjoyed a thorough beatdown of Florida by LSU, capped with an acrobatic interception by the Honey Badger.
• Did I mention football is kind of a big deal in the South? We ended our weekend by joining a childhood friend of mine at a bar to watch the Saints game. Sitting on couches in a smoky bar surrounded by screaming – yet immensely hospitable – patrons in Drew Brees’ jerseys was the perfect way to cap off a decadent New Orleans weekend.

Outdoor weddings in the Pacific Northwest, even in August, are risky endeavors.

But since the summer of 2011 has been sulky as a teenager, we were happy to enough to have a few generous sunbreaks in time for the 5 p.m. ceremony. Yes, ideally, the white wicker arch at the end of the aisle should have framed Mt. Rainier perfectly. Still, we had warm air and a soft breeze off Puget Sound, and really, being able to have the wedding near the water was ultimately the most important thing.

I’ve been to enough weddings to know the drill, but this was my first time as a key member of the bridal party – my stint as a 5-year-old gender-bending ring bearer notwithstanding. Turns out being the maid of honor presents challenges not encountered in everyday life. (Pro tip: when you’re booking a bachelorette party, make sure the entertainment at the venue isn’t the melancholy stylings of a local emo band.) I’d also not recommend waiting until 15 minutes beforehand to prep for a speech on your fiance’s iPhone before delivering it to 160 guests.

But anyway, this isn’t about me. It’s about a weekend of ferry rides and suspension bridges, forest trails and picnic benches, white dahlias in mason jars and two blissfully happy people celebrating having exactly what they want in one another.

Our goal: secure a reservation at noma, ranked the No. 1 restaurant in the world. No, really. Renowned for its focus on Nordic cuisine sourced from the highest quality ingredients of the region, noma’s culinary cred is only matched by its exclusivity – chef Rene Redzepi’s establishment only seats about 40 people a night. Reservations open three months in advance, and would-be diners slam the online reservation system and phone line with frantic attempts to snag a seat.

Miraculously, after about 20 minutes and numerous browser refreshes, we made it into the reservation system and booked our table for two at 7 p.m. on June 7.  After taking care of minor details – you know, booking Icelandair flights and lodging – three months later we found ourselves standing outside the unassuming brick building on a quiet Copenhagen block.

At noma, the food is naturally expected to be exceptional. But the level of service is also stunning. As we entered the dimly lit foyer, the maitre d’ was waiting to welcome us. He smiled at me and said, “Welcome, Ms. Kennelly.” This was before we had said a word or made any kind of introduction. How did they know who I was? There were other diners arriving at the time. Magic. Or maybe Facebook stalking. Either way, we were impressed.

We were escorted to our table by the window overlooking the water and downtown Copenhagen. After making sure we were comfortably seated with wine on the way and checking if we had any allergies or food concerns (nope), our server smiled at us and said, “Your first course is actually in your flowerpot.”

That was about when I started giggling uncontrollably.

Those brown, stick looking things were actually “malt flowers” that tasted like crackers, meant to be dipped in creme fraiche.

As we nibbled on those, they brought out the next amuse bouche. At this early point, we hadn’t realized to listen closely to their descriptions of the food so we’d know what to eat. We heard something about “reindeer moss” and then Jeremy tentatively attempted to bite the stick. Turns out that one actually was a stick. We were supposed to eat the brown fluffy things (kind of like a savory cotton candy.)

Next was an “acidic berry cooked as a sheath” with rose petals and salt. It was a bit like fruit leather – you picked it up with your fingers and ate it all in one go.

This was followed by a platter of empty mussel shells, with two mussels remaining covered by a top shell. We were instructed to remove the top shells and consume the fried mussel beneath. It had a bottom “shell” made of dried squid ink.

Above is a “savory vinegar cookie” with duck fat and black currants.

Spring garlic with seaweed butter – you bite off the entire end up to the green part.

A crispy chicken skin “sandwich” with smoked lumpfish roe and rye bread.

Pickled and smoked quail eggs served in smoked hay.

“You can eat everything but the pot,” said our server. This is a famous noma dish – raw radishes with creme fraiche in “edible soil” made from malt and hazelnuts.

Herb toast, emulsion of smoked cod roe with fresh herbs, topped with crispy duck stock.

I should mention that up to this point, all this was brought to our table without any effort on our end. When I got up to go the bathroom, someone was at my chair to escort me there before I was finished standing up. The dishes were brought out by the chefs themselves, most of them model-caliber, strapping young men who mention offhand things like “I worked at the French Laundry for three years before coming here.”

Also, when Jeremy ordered a beer, it came from a nearby microbrewery that only makes 2,000 liters a year from birch tree sap infused with wild stinging nettles. I’m not making up a word of this. (Also, the beer was excellent.)

We were then offered the choice between a seven-course menu and a 12-course one. The 12-course included seasonal options as well as noma “classics.” It was easy to justify getting the 12-course, though we passed on the 8-glass wine pairing, mainly because combining that amount of alcohol with extreme jet lag seemed like a poor decision.

The meal commenced with a small loaf of Swedish bread, warm from the oven and painstakingly wrapped in cloth. It was paired with goat’s milk butter (left) and pork fat with apple snaps (schnapps) and topped with potatoes and onion. This was, unequivocally, the best bread I’ve ever eaten in my life.

About now is where I had a glass of champagne that I later found out cost $58.

In this bowl are white strawberries, sorrel and a vinaigrette of unripe juniper berries. I started getting really giddy and said, “I’m having a shared emotional experience withe everyone in the restaurant right now.

This is “scallops and grains” – scallops blast frozen and sliced thin, then dried, served with a mix of grains and beechnuts over squid ink with seaweed oil.

Underneath the sorrel leaves is beef tartare with mustardseed oil and horseradish. We were instructed to take it with our fingers, drag it through the juniper leaf powder on the left, then scrape it through the tarragon emulsion at the bottom.

This was one of the most amazing dishes. It’s a langoustine caramelized on a hot beach stone. The dots on the left are a raw oyster emulsion (like mayonnaise) topped with seaweed powder. This, too, we were instructed to eat with our fingers by dragging it through the emulsion.

An oyster from mainland Denmark served in a mini-Le Cruset steamed with seaweed, stones and shells. The oyster was served with beach herbs, cream and tapioca pickled in vinegar.

Next was white asparagus served in sauce made from grilled green asparagus, with pine branches, rosemary salt, lightly whipped cream and pine shoots.

Above is pike perch, a freshwater fish, grilled in cabbage leaves with verbena sauce and topped with butter foam.

“Hen and egg,” my favorite dish of the night. A sizzling skillet resting in hay was set in front of each diner. The server squirted hay-infused oil into the skillet and told us each to crack our egg into it. He set a timer for 90 seconds while the egg fried.

We then added butter and sauteed the greens on the side. The server poured a sauce made from ramps and onions over the top, and we sprinkled on salt and herbs. Finally, we topped it with crispy potato (the curly-q in the background.)

The final savory course:

Veal sweetbreads with a compote of peas, nasturtiums, pea shoots, wild chervil, grilled baby garlic and grilled leek stem.

On to dessert! By now, about 3 hours into dinner, you can see the light was fading.

Ice cream made with bitters, served with milk crisps, dried milk crumbs and sorrel.

Green juniper ice cream with Spanish chervil “gel” and rhubarb sauce with rhubarb dice.

Burnt milk custard with frozen beets, freeze-dried currants and tarragon.

We ordered coffee, thinking the meal was complete (it was 12 courses, after all.) But lo! There were three surprise final desserts:

In this packet were caramels served inside a hollowed out marrow bone. We also received chocolate-covered potato chips with fennel and chocolate-covered lemon foam truffles.

More than four hours after entering, we staggered out of a noma in a daze. It’s easy to be cynical about food-obsessed culture, and we both have a healthy self-deprecation policy when it comes to food trends and fads. But let’s put aside cynicism for a moment. Dinner at noma was truly one of the most amazing experiences, culinary or otherwise, we have ever had.

But for long-suffering Mariners fans over the past couple of seasons, the well-cultivated ballpark food (and drink) is a welcome distraction from the gloomy product on the field most games. While I enjoy a street sausage or take-out banh mi as much as anyone, I also like the option of having palatable, reasonably affordable food inside the gates. For the 2010 season, the folks at Safeco Field rolled out options like poutine (we all know how I feel about poutine), a nifty grilled salmon sandwich and a gyro, accompanying the existing standbys like garlic fries and Ichiroll sushi.

This season, they’re upping the ante even further by bringing in big-name chefs Ethan Stowell, Roberto Santibañez and Bill Pustari as part of a complete remodel of the centerfield lower concourse, formerly the “Bullpen Market,” into “The ‘Pen.” Personally I’ve always referred to that outfield plaza/beer garden area as the “Meat Market” because of the rabid singles scene playing out at most weekend games. Now it’s vastly more open, with additions like a firepit and cocktail lounge. The beer stands are stocked with mass-market brews and microbrews – obviously, you HAVE to have beer at the ballgame.

But okay – the food. I was invited, along with some other local food bloggers and media, to a tasting of the new fare. In The ‘Pen, you can get…

New Haven-style pizza made with locally sourced ingredients, cooked in a custom-made oven:

Local grass-fed burgers with fries, plus sausages cooked in beer:

Crepes – sweet and savory:

Tortas (Mexican sandwiches) made with pork, chicken or beef, plus fresh-made guacamole and salsa:

My favorite was definitely the torta. Made to order, it had a soft, fresh-tasting bun, with distinct flavor and spice, including fresh avocado and jalapeños. A lot of times ballpark food is on the bland side, a result of catering to the palate of the masses. This was good enough that I would order it outside of a stadium.

My almost-completely-eaten torta:

The pizza was decent, and at $5 for a big slice, a surprisingly affordable option for a gametime snack. The crepes were fine, although I can’t really see myself ordering a crepe during a game. You could tell the burger was made with quality ingredients, particularly the bun, though again I’m not sure I would opt for a burger at the game in general. Nor would I probably pick regular fries over garlic fries, though the garlic aioli dipping sauce with these was addictive.

Overall I was pleased to see the way the new food options and ‘Pen area reflect a certain facet of the Seattle community and fanbase. Yeah, it’s the snobby, foodie facet, but what’s wrong with that? I’d rather have a local chef like Stowell showcasing his sporty side with a local flair than some generic lackluster patty.

But at the end of my visit, what I was MOST excited about (besides the $5 beer happy hour from 4:30-6 during game days)? The removal of the chain-link fences around the bullpens. Now I could, theoretically, reach out and high-five Felix Hernandez during warmups. Sweet.

If you’re one of those people who still doesn’t like Brussels sprouts, I’m not even going to try and convince you. Go read another blog post about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with the crusts cut off.

But if you are one of those who appreciates the much-maligned mini-cabbage – when prepared correctly – you’ll love this recipe.

We generally make Brussels sprouts the way I make most vegetables: by tossing them in olive oil, salt and pepper, then roasting at 400 or so until lightly browned and tender. This is a great way to start if you’ve never had Brussels sprouts before. Try Ina’s recipe.

Last week, however, I discovered a new way to cook sprouts. I joined some friends at Smith - a local restaurant known for gastropubby food, good deals on drinks and taxidermied decor – and while we all agonized over the menu, we easily agreed on a certain dish for the table: Brussels sprouts with bacon and dates. No-brainer.

The dish disappeared fast between five hungry mouths, and we started to ponder what was in it, besides the obvious. The consensus was something tangy like creme fraiche, but we couldn’t figure it out.

So I decided to go to the source and ask Smith on Twitter. And after some logistical back and forth, they posted the recipe on their Facebook page.

Though the ingredient list was basic, I was a little nervous about trying a restaurant-style recipe with no real measurements. I shouldn’t have worried; it was straightforward to prepare and easy to multiply by a few factors to make enough for a side dish and leftovers.

And, most importantly, it tasted just like the restaurant version.

Smith’s Brussels Sprouts with Bacon and Dates

Adapted from Smith

• 1 lb Brussels sprouts
• 3-4 strips good quality bacon
• 10-12 dates, chopped
• 1/2 cup apple cider vinegar
• 1/3 cup cream
• olive oil

Cut the ends off the sprouts and slice them in half lengthwise. Chop up the bacon strips and saute in a large frying pan over medium heat until crispy. Set aside on a paper towel but leave the bacon grease in the pan.

Add enough olive oil to coat the bottom of the pan and let it get hot. Add the sprouts, cut side down, and cook until the cut sides are a deep golden brown. You may be able to turn up the heat a bit, but make sure they are caramelizing and not burning. Also, your frying pan may not be large enough to fit all the cut sprouts – if so, just fire up another pan with some olive oil and cook them separately, then add them back into the big pan when browned.

Once the sprouts are browned and tender, add the bacon and chopped dates and toss until all is heated through.

Add the apple cider vinegar and toss, then add the cream and mix again. Let it bubble for a minute or so until the cream has reduced a bit. Taste and add a bit more vinegar or cream if needed.

Add salt and pepper to taste, toss again, and serve.

It’s called a Pineapple Express – when a warm, moist, strong blast of air sweeps up from the tropics bringing unseasonably high temperatures and the sort of rain that normally only appears in Hollywood renditions of Seattle. A perfect day to stay inside watching the Huskies’ basketball game and making Thai-style meatballs with Sunbutter sauce and spinach.

This meal came about because we had a pound of ground beef in the fridge and I went a little nuts in the Asian condiment aisle at the grocery store. Then I started thinking about our ever-present jar of Sunbutter (similar to peanut butter but made with ground-up sunflower seeds) that we got hooked on while eating paleo.

A few Google searches for inspiration later turned up enough ideas to make up this recipe, which is easy, savory and comforting – no pineapple, but with a tropic sensibility.

Thai-style Meatballs with Sunbutter Sauce

Inspired by The Mixer Bible

For the meatballs:

• 1 lb. ground beef (next time I’d use a mixture of pork and veal)
• 2 cloves garlic, chopped
• 1/4 cup chopped fresh mint
• 1/4 cup chopped cilantro
• 2 Tbsp. fish sauce
• 2 tsp. curry paste (I used green, but red or yellow would work)
• 1 egg
• 1/2 cup panko, bread crumbs or almond flour

For the sauce:

• 1 cup coconut milk
• 1 Tbsp brown sugar (optional)
• 1 Tbsp. curry paste (red, green or yellow)
• 1 Tbsp. fish sauce
• 1/2 cup sunbutter or nut butter of your choice

Preheat the oven to 450, with the rack in the top third of the oven, and line a sheet pan with parchment paper. Mix ground meat with garlic, mint, cilantro, fish sauce and curry paste until evenly combined. If you’re still waiting for the oven to heat, stick the mixture in the fridge until the oven is ready. Then add the beaten egg and breadcrumbs/flour until combined.

Use a tablespoon to scoop the meat into 1 1/4-inch meatballs on the baking sheet, with a 1/2 inch of space between each. Bake for 8-10 minutes or until browned and just a bit of pink left inside.

While the meatballs are cooking, make the sauce. In a saucepan, combine coconut milk, sugar (if using), curry paste and fish sauce. Bring to a simmer over medium heat, stirring occasionally, for about 3 minutes. Add sunbutter or nut butter of choice and continue to cook and stir until well blended.

Serve meatballs on a bed of baby spinach and drizzle sauce on top, with extra sauce on the side. This will probably make more sauce then you need, but you shouldn’t have a hard time finding uses for it. Maybe something with pineapple…

It’s not the fastest dinner in the world – it requires some chopping, some patience for simmering, some from-scratch pasta making (sounds much fancier than it is). But it’s worth it to make this savory, smoky, stomach-warming stew that always satisfies.

It’s tasted different every time we’ve made it, mainly because we never use the same type of chorizo. The original recipe calls for “3/4 lb/400g sweet chorizo, skinned and cut into 1/2-inch/1cm pieces.” I’ve never really been able to figure out what that means. Is it supposed to be cured chorizo, or fresh? Once you take the skin off fresh sausage, you can’t really cut it into pieces. So, we’ve just used whatever we can find at whatever store we’ve shopped at that day. Obviously The Spanish Table, the Pike Place Market mecca of all things Iberian where we bought the cookbook in the first place, has a vast selection. We’ve also used Uli’s and a super-spicy ground version from Leschi Mart. They all work – just be aware of the spice level and factor that in when you’re choosing between hot or sweet paprika.

Another word about paprika: smoked. Don’t even think about using regular old paprika in this recipe. It’s gotta be pimenton, people. Buy it if you don’t have it already – I put it in everything, especially soups, to boost that savory edge.

Don’t freak out about the “homemade pasta” ingredient. I don’t own a pasta maker and I have no skill with pasta making. Basically you just mix flour, water and salt, roll it out, cut it into strips, and toss them in the stew for 15 minutes. Any Play-Doh-adept toddler could do it.

If you went with a really spicy chorizo, a dollop of creamy Greek yogurt or sour cream is a nice cooling accompaniment as a garnish. But otherwise, this stands on its own as a meal in a bowl – truly the best of a one-pot dinner.

Andrajos con chorizo – chorizo, tomato and pasta stew

Inspired by Penelope Casas’ One Pot Spanish

• 3 tbsp olive oil
• 1 medium sweet onion, chopped
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• 3/4 lb chorizo – sweet or spicy, cured or fresh
• 5 medium Roma tomatoes, chopped
• 1/3 cup tomato sauce
• 1/2 tsp dried thyme
• 1 tsp smoked paprika, sweet or hot
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 1/4 cups chicken broth
• 1/2 cup dry white wine
• salt and pepper
• Homemade pasta
  • 1 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1/4 tsp salt
  • 1/2 cup cold water

Heat the olive oil over medium heat in a large pot or cazuela if you have one (I usually use my Le Creuset). Saute onions and garlic until soft, then add chorizo and saute until no longer pink (2-3 minutes).

Stir in tomatoes, tomato sauce, thyme, paprika and bay leaf, and cook another 5 minutes. Add broth, wine, salt and pepper to taste, then turn the heat to high and bring to a boil. Turn the heat down and simmer uncovered for 30 minutes. Don’t worry if it seems liquidy – the pasta will thicken it up.

While the soup is simmering, make the pasta. Mix the flour and salt together, then add the water until you can form a ball. Turn it out onto a floured surface and roll it thin. Cut into strips, circles, triangles, stars, whatever shape you like – “andrajos” means “rags” so we’re not going for beauty here.

After the soup has simmered for half an hour, add the pasta into the broth, making sure it is all submerged, and cook it another 15-20 minutes, stirring occasionally. I’ve found it doesn’t take long for the pasta to get al dente. You may need to add a little more chicken broth so it stays a little soupy.

Taste for doneness and flavoring, then serve in shallow bowls and top with yogurt or sour cream if you like.

We had pop-ups on the mind because of a recent New York Times article about their rise in London, so when a friend tweeted about a Monday-night-only Thai dinner at popular Capitol Hill cocktail joint Licorous, we had to check it out.

One Monday's menu at Shophouse

Called Shophouse and billed as “a developing restaurant concept based in Seattle devoted to the craft of traditional street level Thai cuisine,” the menu features simple but supremely flavorful dishes that Lark sous-chef Wiley Frank learned to cook during a year spent in Thailand. Monday nights, he and his wife serve up small plates zingy with tamarind, fresh chilis, cilantro and other spices imported from Southeast Asia. The menu is constantly evolving, though there’s a sampling of dishes on the website.

We started with mini curried fish cakes with cucumber vinegar and fried basil. You could really taste each ingredient, with the strong sour, sweet, salty and bitter flavors all coming through. We also ordered the spicy squid salad with greens, cherry tomatoes, lemongrass and celery leaf. It wasn’t nearly as spicy I was expecting – our barometer being the five-alarm, religious-experience heat of the papaya salad at Portland’s Pok Pok – but it had a slow burn underneath the citrus-y dressing.

We also had a salad of granny smith apple, peanuts, chili, lime and dried shrimp. The apple salad in particular was a cooling counterpoint to the spiciness of the other dishes. Then we finished with the simmered Madhatter chicken with garlic rice, squash broth and spicy soy. This was outstanding. Both the broth and the meat had a strong flavor, and the spicy soy sauce added just the right amount of kick.

Madhatter chicken (left) and granny smith apple salad

There were also three Thai-inspired cocktails, though we stuck with lime and lemongrass sodas.

Our waitress said they plan to keep up Shophouse Thai night as long as there’s interest, so we’ll plan to be back to try some of the other offerings – herbed pork sausage, chicken wings, yes please – in the coming weeks.