Seven Layer Bars

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Seven Layer Bars

Seven layer bars are my favorite dessert to bring to a party. They disappear before you know it. Why? Because these bars include the very best ingredients used in baking.

Seven layer bars are also known as “sin bars,” after the seven deadly sins. While I firmly believe this treat is a blessing, I can see how each ingredient matches up with one of the sins.

  1. Butter (gluttony): Butter. Butter, butter, butter. Keep repeating the word to yourself. Say no more.
  2. Graham crackers (envy): They are the foundation of a s’more, the crust for cheesecakes. Who wouldn’t envy the graham cracker?
  3. Butterscotch (lust): The most beautiful, mysterious flavor. I find butterscotch difficult to describe fully.
  4. Chocolate (greed): My love, my vice, my everything. I cannot get enough of chocolate.
  5. Coconut (pride):  It’s everywhere, in all forms. Why wouldn’t coconut be proud?
  6. Walnuts (anger): Have you ever seen a whole walnut? I hope so. It’s elegant, buttery, and craggy. It looks angry.
  7. Sweetened condensed milk (sloth): The very nature of this ingredient is sloth-like. It’s so slow to come out of the can, you have to use a spatula to get it out. Perfect match.
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Let’s get a close up shot, shall we?

Seven Layer Bars

  • 1 stick of butter
  • 1 cup graham cracker crumbs
  • 1 cup shredded coconut
  • 6 oz chocolate chips
  • 6 oz butterscotch chips
  • 1 cup chopped walnuts
  • 1 can sweetened condensed milk
  1. Melt the butter.
  2. Mix the graham cracker crumbs with the butter until fully combined. Place mixture into a 13 x 9 baking dish. Press the graham cracker mixture down until it forms a crust covering the bottom of the pan.
  3. Layer the coconut, chocolate chips, butterscotch chips, and chopped walnuts on top of the graham cracker crust.
  4. Pour the sweetened condensed milk over these layers to cover the entire pan.
  5. Bake at 350 degrees for about 25-30 minutes, or until the edges are golden brown.
  6. Make sure to let the bars cool before you cut into them!

 

Braised Brussels Sprouts with Bacon and Cotija Cheese

Braised Brussels Sprouts with Bacon and Cotija Cheese

Today I’m offering a two-part reflection. One on the beauty of cast iron skillets, and another on the deliciousness that is the brussels sprout.


We Should All Be Like Cast Iron Skillets (a poem)

We should all be like cast iron skillets—

A vessel that can take the heat.

Built of strength, it can endure most anything.

With time, it becomes more nonstick,

seasoned, retaining the wisdom of what’s touched its surface before,

letting things go cleanly, more easily.

We should all be like cast iron skillets—

a vessel through which masterpieces are made.

Reliable, it will always be there,

a labor of love lasting a lifetime.


As I grew up, brussels sprouts had a bad reputation. The cliché going around was that one may like vegetables, except for brussels sprouts.

A typical conversation among friends or family members:

Inquiring adult: “Kristina, do you eat your vegetables?”

Kristina (as a child): “Yes, I eat my vegetables!”

Adult: “Which vegetables do you like to eat?”

Kristina: “Well, I like corn, potatoes, tomatoes, green beans, broccoli, all kinds. But I hate brussels sprouts. Gross!”

Here’s the thing—I had never even tried brussels sprouts. I heard such terrible things about this vegetable that I didn’t have the guts to try it until I was maybe 23 years old.

I know. Shameful.

When I did finally try them at a restaurant in Boston, I was floored with how delicious this vegetable really is. Brussels sprouts have a more earthy, cabbage-like flavor that pairs so incredibly well with bacon and cheese. The sprouts caramelize, boasting a hint of sweetness that begs for crispy bacon and salty, yet firm cheese. This is why we see many recipes for brussels sprouts with parmesan, for example. I chose cotija cheese for its mild yet salty qualities. The cheese melts just enough, and then it browns right along with the sprouts at the very end.

This dish is one of my kitchen experiments, and after a few tries, I’ve hit the jackpot of deliciousness. I love serving this as a side dish with baked chicken or on top of pasta. Enjoy, and let me know if you make it!

Braised Brussels Sprouts with Bacon and Cotija Cheese

  • 1 lb. brussels sprouts, cut into halves or quarters depending on the sprout’s size
  • 3-4 slices applewood smoked bacon
  • 1/3 cup chicken stock
  • 2 cloves garlic, crushed in a garlic press
  • 1/4 cup crumbled cotija cheese
  • salt and pepper to taste
  1. Slice bacon into pieces about 1/2 inch wide and place into a cast iron skillet. Turn on the heat to medium-high and fry until crispy. Take the crispy bacon pieces out of the pan with a slotted spoon and place bacon into a dish. Set aside.
  2. While the bacon is cooking, prepare your brussels sprouts. Slice off the very bottom of the sprout and throw away. Cut the brussels sprout in half. If the sprout is quite large, you can cut the sprout in half again.
  3. Once the bacon is done cooking, place the brussels sprouts in the cast iron skillet with the bacon fat. Over medium heat, let the sprouts acquire an initial char (about 2 minutes).
  4. Place minced garlic in the pan and stir to incorporate. Add crushed black pepper to taste (I used about 1/4 teaspoon, you can always add more).
  5. Pour 1/3 cup chicken stock into the pan and cover the skillet with a lid. Let the sprouts steam over medium heat for about 5-7 minutes. The liquid should be about evaporated.
  6. Turn up the heat to medium high and let the sprouts caramelize further as the liquid fully evaporates, 1-2 minutes.
  7. Add crispy bacon and crumbled cotija cheese into the pan. Turn off the heat, and allow the cheese to melt just slightly.

 

 

 

Heirloom Tomato Gazpacho

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Heirloom Tomato Gazpacho

Whether we like it or not, our lives are made up of seasons.

Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter.

Baby, Child, Teen, Young Adult, Adult, Senior.

Those seasons contain seasons within them. Take fall, for instance. September marks the end of tomato season, giving way to apple season. Squash flourish in October, the orange color of their insides reflecting the color of the outside world, the ever-changing leaves on the trees. The season is not stagnant. There are ebbs and flows within it, peaks and valleys. We may miss the tomatoes, but we have apples and pears and squash and beets to look forward to.

Each season in our lives has similarly functioning peaks and valleys. For example, young adults tend to move many different times. I moved from Columbus, Ohio to Boston for graduate school. I found love. I graduated. I obtained a job in my field. I lost love. I went back to the drawing board of life. I set new goals.

What do we know about seasons? A few things (at the very least):

  1. Each phase of a season is beautiful and necessary. The beginning brings joy. The end brings a despair that only lasts until the hope of a new season emerges—and it always does.
  2. If we try to bring back a season that has already passed, it does not taste as sweet. Eating tomatoes in December is not as pleasant as eating them in August. The fruit won’t be as fresh, flavorful, and bright.

We must enjoy each present season for what it brings to us. What can the joy teach us? What, conversely, can the sadness teach us?

Embrace the now—it is beautiful and necessary in a very particular way.

This past weekend, I embraced the tomato.

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Heirloom tomato magic
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My weekend farmer’s market trip. Success!

It is the beginning of September, and while tomato season is on the cusp of leaving us, they are still available in all their glory. Let’s have one last hurrah, shall we?

While caprese salads are my jam through and through, nothing celebrates fresh, sweet tomato flavor more than cold, smooth gazpacho.

This recipe comes from a summer when I worked in Spain. In my last three weeks there I stayed with my coworker’s family. Her husband was from Asturias, a region in northern Spain, and he was the most hospitable, heartwarming man. The kitchen was his domain, and he created new dishes every evening. When I first arrived at their house, he greeted me with a massive pan of paella. I knew I was in good hands.

Gazpacho was his kitchen staple. While I was used to very chunky renditions of this soup in the U.S., his version was a fresh garden of veg turned creamy.

Heirloom Tomato Gazpacho

  • 9–10 medium heirloom tomatoes (or 3-4 large heirloom tomatoes)
  • 2/3 cup chopped shallots
  • 2/3 cup chopped green pepper
  • 1/4 cup bread broken into pieces
  • 1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
  • 1/2 cup olive oil
  • 11 ice cubes
  • salt and pepper to taste
  • 1 clove garlic, minced (optional)
  • 1/4 cup cucumber, chopped (optional)
  1. Wash and chop the tomatoes, onion, and pepper. If you choose to add the garlic and cucumber, you can wash and chop those too.
  2. Add ingredients to a blender and blend for 2 minutes.
  3. Break apart about 1/4 cup of bread (2-3 small baguette slices). I suggest using a crustier bread. Stale, dry french bread is the best, but you can also use ciabatta. Add to the blender along with salt and pepper.
  4. Blend for 30 seconds.
  5. Turn on the blender and pour balsamic vinegar and olive oil while the gazpacho blends. This ensures the gazpacho is creamy! Blend for 30 seconds.
  6. Add the ice cubes to the blender right as you are about to serve the soup. Blend until ice is fully incorporated.

If the gazpacho is too grainy or seedy for you, you can pass the ingredients through a fine mesh strainer. This recipe serves about five people, so if your blender is not very large, you may need to make this recipe in batches. I’ll usually cut the recipe in half and make two batches in my blender.