It's Time

I started this blog in August of 2005 on a whim. Never could I have expected it to become such an important part of my life, both personally and professionally. In fact, for the first few years of blogging, I kept my identity here firmly hidden because I was sure the blog would remain nothing more than a little passion project. It is nearly impossible to remember what online life was really like in those days, but I'll always treasure the feeling of utter bliss of discovery and kinship I stumbled upon when I started blogging and found an entire community of like-minded people right on the other side of this screen. 

It is hard to quantify what this blog means to me, though if we're talking numbers, there are nearly 900 posts and almost 30,000 comments collected here. Thanks to The Wednesday Chef, I have written two books and have another on the way. I wrote a monthly food column for several years. I have made countless connections and friends for life. The person I used to be is captured here for posterity, as are the memories and sensations of my former life in New York and the early years of my life back in Berlin. This is the closest I ever came to keeping a real diary. Not only are many of my favorite and most beloved recipes gathered here, but so are countless dear and tender memories, like summers in Italy over the years, the wobbly transition from New York to Berlin, the early years of life with children, and the transformation I made from blogger to book author. Now it's time for me to finally put up the "Closed for Business" sign here, though the archives of The Wednesday Chef will stay on for as long as I have any say in the matter. 

You can subscribe to my newsletter Letter from Berlin at Substack now, either for free or with a couple varieties of paying options. Your support enables me to continue making a creative life. In the newsletter, I share recipes, of course, as well as deeper thoughts on books I'm reading, essays about family life and creativity, and inside peeks at the process of writing another cookbook. We can still connect in the comments there and I look forward to continuing the conversation we've been having for almost 18 years now.

I am deeply grateful to everyone who ever followed a link to find me online. You allowed me to make my dreams of being a writer become a reality. You have read along here and commented with wisdom and care and affection. You have come to my readings and events and bought my books and cooked my recipes. And you have connected to the stories I've told about the important people in my life and blessed me with your interest and kindness and appetite.

Thank you.

Susan's Spungen's Chocolate Semifreddo with Candied Salted Almonds

Good morning! Have I ever told you about the time I interviewed to work in the test kitchen at Martha Stewart Living, back in the fall/winter of 2000/2001? I had recently left Paris behind me and was hoping to get a job in publishing in New York. My sights were set on book publishing, but I couldn't resist applying to this magazine job anyway (Martha Stewart! The magazine! The test kitchen!). I interviewed at a lot of places in that period, many that I don't even remember anymore, but bits and pieces of this interview have stuck with me all these years later. The desk in the test kitchen that had a view of the Empire State Building, the blue suit I was wearing, the way the light shone through the window behind the desk of the person I was meeting with, my interviewer's striking dark hair. That person was the food director of the magazine, a lovely woman named Susan. We had a really nice conversation and then...I honestly can't remember what happened next. Did I get the job offer I was hoping for from Simon & Schuster before she could get back to me? Did she go with someone else?

That part is forever lost to me, but Susan (because yes, that Susan turned out to be the Susan Spungen) always stuck in my mind. She was so charming and fun to talk to and the interview had been actually enjoyable. Over the years, Susan's stature in the food world grew and grew - she left the magazine, wrote a cookbook, became a food stylist for blockbuster movies, wrote more books, became a New York Times contributor and creator of the world's most beautiful cookie assortment and most recently started a great recipe newsletter called Susanality. These days, Susan and I are Instagram friends, which feels very full circle indeed.

Anyway, I realize it is Thanksgiving week and you probably need a chocolate recipe like a hole in the head, but I've been meaning to tell you about this semifreddo from one of Susan's newsletters since the summer, so I'm just going to go ahead and do it, especially for the rest of you who aren't planning on immersing yourselves in turkey wings, roasting squash and exploding cranberries for the next five days. (By the way, Susan's newsletter is currently 20% off, just in case you're looking for a sweet little gift for someone or want to treat yourself - it is very much worth it.) 

Alright, first things first. Semifreddo. Do you know what it is? Just in case you don't, the short answer is that it's a frozen Italian dessert. There are a million variations out there, because it's such an easy dessert to riff on, but the basic concept of semifreddo is a whipped and creamy custard that is poured into a loaf pan, frozen until solid, then unmolded, sliced and served. This summer in Italy, my mother invited friends over for dinner and asked me to make dessert. Since Susan had just written about the semifreddo, which she made with malted milk powder and vanilla bean, and a crunchy shower of salted candied almonds, I couldn't resist trying it.

But cooking in my mother's house in Italy is a bit like cooking in a vacation rental. Despite the fact that she has plenty of pots and pans and utensils, everything's a little...weird? The knives are all dull. The whisk is from a thrift store in Berlin and probably older than me. The scale is from a thrift store in Berlin and definitely older than me. The wooden cutting boards all smell like garlic. Basically, it's not my kitchen and doing anything besides the usual mealtime prep in it feels a bit like tightrope-walking. But armed with Susan's recipe, pared down to the absolute essentials (bye-bye vanilla extract and malted milk powder, silicone baking mats and flaky salt), I felt as prepared as I was going to be.

And despite cutting every conceivable corner and armed with really only the most basic kitchen things, the semifreddo was a show-stopper. The definition of a perfect recipe! Silky-smooth, rich and dark, with the gorgeous bittersweet crunch of the candied salted almonds against the velvety slick chocolate cream, it rendered everyone at the dinner time speechless, which is always the nicest feeling. And listen, if I could do it at my mother's house, you can most definitely do it wherever you are. 

Below I'm going to put the recipe the way I made it (more or less). For the original, make sure you head to Susan's newsletter, linked below. (If you're in Germany and looking for malted milk powder, you can find it at Indian grocery stores, keep an eye out for the Horlick's brand.)

Note: This post includes affiliate links and I may earn a commission if you purchase through them, at no cost to you. I use affiliate links only for products I love and companies I trust. Thank you.

Chocolate Semifreddo with Candied Salted Almonds
Adapted from Susan Spungen's Susanality newsletter
Serves 6 to 8

For the salted candied almonds:
2 teaspoons unsalted butter, plus more to grease parchment
½ cup/70 grams whole raw almonds, very roughly chopped
¼ cup/50 grams granulated sugar
¼ teaspoon flaky sea salt 

For the semifreddo:
1½ cups/350 ml whole milk
6 ounces/170 grams extra bittersweet chocolate (70%)
4 large egg yolks
7 tablespoons sugar
3 large egg whites
Large pinch of salt

1. To make the candied almonds: Butter a piece of parchment paper, foil, or a silicone baking mat and lay it on the counter. In a medium (10-inch) skillet, combine the butter, almonds and sugar. Cook over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally, until the almonds are toasted-looking and the sugar is liquefied and has turned a deep amber color, 5 to 7 minutes. Pour out onto the parchment and, using a metal offset spatula, press them down to a single layer, but don't spread them out too much. Immediately sprinkle with the flaky salt and let cool. When cooled, chop into smaller pieces (leave half of the almonds a little chunkier and store in an airtight container; these will be for the top). 

2. To make the semifreddo: Line a standard (8½ x 4½ x 2½-inch) loaf pan with a large piece of plastic wrap. Leave enough excess so it can be completely folded over once it's filled. 

3. Put the milk in a small saucepan and heat slowly over low heat. Meanwhile, chop the chocolate into small pieces and place in a medium bowl. Set a fine-mesh strainer on top of the bowl with the chocolate. Set aside near the stove. 

4. Combine the egg yolks with 2 tablespoons of the sugar and whisk until liquified. When the milk is steaming and bubbling around the edges, slowly whisk it into the eggs and return the mixture to the saucepan. Cook it over medium heat, whisking constantly, until slightly thickened, 4 to 8 minutes.  If the mixture starts to curdle, briefly remove it from the heat. You’ll know it’s almost done when the foam starts to subside and the mixture begins to thicken. At this point, turn the heat down to low to avoid scrambling the eggs, and cook until shiny and smooth and thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. The consistency should be similar to heavy cream (rather than a thick pastry cream). Whisk in the vanilla extract and immediately pour it into the strainer over the bowl of chocolate, leaving any curdy bits in the pan. Push it through the strainer using a rubber spatula. Stir the two mixtures together briefly, let sit for 5 minutes, and stir again until smooth and the chocolate is completely melted. Set the bowl in a larger bowl of ice. Stir occasionally until cold, then remove from the ice. 

5. Heat a large saucepan with a few inches of water in it until simmering. In the bowl of a stand mixer (or just a metal bowl if you are using a hand mixer), combine the egg whites with the remaining 5 tablespoons sugar and the salt, and set it over the simmering water. Whisk constantly, hand-holding the whisk attachment until the mixture is hot to the touch and the sugar is completely dissolved, about 2 minutes, then attach the whisk attachment to the mixer and beat the egg whites until stiff and glossy. Be careful not to overbeat, as you’ll want the meringue to be smooth and silky so that it folds easily into the chocolate.

6. Fold the meringue into the chocolate mixture: Using a rubber spatula, stir ⅓ of the meringue into the chocolate mixture to lighten it, then gently fold the rest in until no streaks remain, taking care not to deflate the mixture. 

7. Use the rubber spatula to nudge about half the chocolate mixture into the pan. Sprinkle with the more finely chopped half of the candied almonds. Top with remaining chocolate mixture. Fold the plastic over to wrap completely. Find a flat, level surface in the freezer and freeze overnight.

8. When ready to serve, tap the semifreddo out of the pan, unwrap, and place upside down on a serving platter. Top with the remaining almonds. Slice and serve immediately.

David Tanis's Glazed Shiitakes with Bok Choy

Let me set the scene for you. It is 5:16 pm on Monday evening. It is very dark out. I am still wearing my pajama top under my sweater, because I never got around to showering today. The boys had to stay home from school and Kita today and you know how these things go. Mom's personal hygiene is always the first to go unless Mom insists on showering, everyone else be damned, and sometimes that small indulgence ("indulgence") is just a hill too far. (Is that the right metaphor? I'm tired.) (Also, "Mom"? Sigh.)

The boys are watching a movie. They watched a movie yesterday too. And the day before that too. I no longer really care that they're watching a movie a day multiple times a week. I mean, objectively, I know it's not great? But I don't care anymore. I'm sitting here next to them, making pretend that we're spending time together and that I'm present, but I'm typing away here, trying to work, trying to achieve something. ("Achieve." Sob.)

Choosing the stupid movie was a struggle. Voices were raised. Tears were shed. Rooms were left. The older child doesn't want to watch what the younger child wants to watch and the younger child sometimes just wants to get its way and one of them is intractable and the other one is mostly agreeable and I try to be fair and balanced and sometimes I end up getting so mad about the stupidity of all of the arguing and complaining and anyway, wasn't acquiescing to a movie about me trying to practice some form of self-care and now it feels like it's backfiring and omg get me out of here, no, really, I need to leave the house, but I can't and also, I'm wearing yesterday's underpants and ten-year-old sweatpants.

(If it sounds like I am on this parenting experience solo right now, well, I am, because despite the fact that the poor man has worked from our utility room since March 2020 and basically never leaves the house anymore, Max had a positive PCR test last week and has been in masked isolation in a separate room in our apartment since Thursday evening (THURSDAY EVENING), which basically feels like a benevolent yet still hungry-three-times-a-day ghost has moved in and my husband has moved out. Mercifully/miraculously, the boys and I are negative!)

But! Let's focus on good things, shall we? This recipe! Which I first made several weeks ago, not thinking much of it, just needing to use up some wilty bok choy and funny-looking shiitakes that I'd bought as a special at the grocery store and then forgotten in the fridge for nearly a week, urgh. I even declined to take a photo, just in case, because I just figured it would be whatever, and then it went and straight up blew our minds and I didn't see that coming at all!

To make it, you first blanch some bok choy. Before blanching, you cut off the ends of the bok choy so that you're left with individual leaves rather than little bulbs. You drain these and let them cool, then arrange them in a serving dish.

Next you deal with the mushrooms. You stem the shiitakes, but leave them whole, and fry them together with some kind of chile (the first time, I used one hot fresh Turkish chile, which was delicious; the next time I used one tiny dried Calabrian chile and it was also delicious - but in both cases, one chile was plenty for making this fiery enough that small children wouldn't be able to eat it and grown-ups would get a runny nose). Then you add minced garlic and ginger and what seems like a lot of soy sauce as well as sugar and sesame oil. This boils down, glazing the mushrooms and making them incredibly savory and delicious.

This mixture is scraped over the blanched bok choy and then topped with sesame seeds (and scallions, if you like, but I find it richly flavored enough without the scallions adding another layer of allium flavor). You need to serve it with rice to soak up the delicious sauce and provide a bit of soothing balance to the punchy, moreish flavor of the mushrooms.

Most thrillingly, if you, like me, have a grown person in your household who thinks they hate mushrooms, this will possibly be the dish that finally makes them change their mind. Yes, really! I don't know why this feels like such a triumph to me, but it does. For years, I've been trying to find a way to change his mind and this finally did it.

The nicest thing about the whole thing is that it's so satisfying and delicious that you don't have to make anything else for dinner (besides rice, yes, and fried eggs and toast for your children who refuse glazed mushrooms and bok choy no matter how wonderful they are). Win win win.

But now it's 6:14 pm and the movie is over and the boys are bickering again and it's even darker outside than it was before and once more I don't know what to make for dinner! Off I go...

David Tanis's Glazed Shiitakes with Bok Choy
Adapted from the New York Times
Serves 2 as a main course with rice, or 3 to 4 as a side dish

1-2 pounds baby bok choy
2-3 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 small dry red Calabrian pepper or one fresh red chile pepper
1 pound shiitake mushrooms (about 4 dozen), stems removed
Salt and pepper
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 tablespoon grated ginger
1 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon sesame oil
3 tablespoons tamari or soy sauce
6 scallions, sliced diagonally, for garnish (optional)
1 tablespoon roasted sesame seeds for garnish (optional)

1. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Cut off and discard stem ends of bok choy. Separate leaves, rinse and drain. Drop leaves into boiling water and cook for 1 to 2 minutes, until barely cooked. Immediately remove and drain. Arrange leaves on a serving platter, then set aside.

2. Put a large wok or cast-iron skillet over high heat. Add oil and heat until nearly smoking, then add hot peppers and shiitake caps, stirring to coat. Stir-fry for 2 minutes. Reduce heat slightly and add garlic, ginger, sugar, sesame oil and tamari. Stir-fry for 1 to 2 minutes more.

3. Spoon shiitake and pan juices over reserved cooked bok choy. Garnish with scallions and sesame seeds, if using. Serve immediately or at room temperature.

Emma Laperruque's Easy Chicken Schnitzel

Well, remember how I said that I was still trying to figure out my way back to the kitchen on August 23rd? It's November 8th and I'm just barely getting there! September and October were mostly about survival. We ate a lot of Abendbrot and fish sticks and pasta and salad. I avoided the kitchen as much as I could. Happily, though, I did have one very big cooking revelation, which was discovering this method for juicy chicken schnitzel, in which you marinate pounded chicken in a creamy bath of mustard and mayonnaise before breading and frying it. 

If you had told my eight-year-old self! My 18-year-old self! My 28-year-old self! That one day I would always have a jar of mayonnaise in my fridge! That I would fall in love with a recipe that uses nearly a cup of mayonnaise! I and my various selves would not have believed it, so great was my loathing for mayonnaise. And yet, here we are. If you are a mayo loather, I imagine you will scroll on by here, but the truth is that you can't actually taste the mayonnaise, it's really there to tenderize the meat and flavor it, along with the mustard, as well as allow you to skip a step in the breading process. The bulk of the marinade gets scraped off (as best you can) before doing the breading and frying.

So, yes, you make a marinade of mustard and mayo and plop the chicken in there to rest. The recipe says to do this up to a day beforehand, but I've never done it more than an hour before (and shh, sometimes even less than that, even though it says an hour is the minimum). Then you put a bunch of breadcrumbs in a shallow dish, clean off the chicken as best you can and dredge the chicken pieces in the breadcrumbs. I've used both regular fine breadcrumbs (that were gluten-free) and I've used panko and both work really well. So you use whatever you like.

Heat up some oil (well, more than "some" - which is really the key to a good schnitzel, not skimping on the oil) in a cast-iron skillet and you're good to go. Blissfully, pounded chicken schnitzel takes mere minutes to cook, which means that as long as you're willing to do that one marinade step in advance of dinner, dinner itself will take hardly any time at all to make.

The chicken comes out crunchy and moist and tender and delicious, and has entirely supplanted this as our weeknight chicken of choice. You probably don't need any help with sides, but it's lovely with a very simple, vinegary salad. It also makes good leftovers and is stellar in a sandwich. Hooray for kitchen revelations! 

Emma Laperruque's Easy Chicken Schnitzel
Adapted from Food52
Serves 4

3/4 cup mayonnaise
3 tablespoons Dijon mustard
1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more for the breadcrumbs
1 1/2 cups peanut or vegetable oil, adjusted as needed for frying
4 chicken breasts
2 cups breadcrumbs (plain or panko)

1. Combine the mayonnaise, mustard and salt in a large bowl and mix well. Pound the chicken breasts to 1/4-inch thickness. Place the chicken in the marinade and coat all sides of the chicken in the marinate. Refrigerate for at least 1 hour or up to 1 day.

2. When you’re ready to fry, add enough oil to a large cast-iron skillet to reach about 1/2-inch in depth. Set over medium-high heat.

3. Place the breadcrumbs on a plate and season with salt. Remove each chicken piece from the marinade and wipe off any excess. (Emma's note: No need to be obsessive but it should look mostly mayo-free, otherwise it won’t crisp properly.) Dredge each chicken piece in the breadcrumbs, pressing firmly to completely coat.

4. When the oil is hot, drop a crumb in the oil - it should immediately sizzle. Fry the chicken in batches, taking care not to overcrowd the pan. Cook each piece for 3 to 4 minutes per side, until deeply browned. Transfer the pieces to a paper towel–lined plate to drain. Repeat with the remaining chicken, then serve immediately.

Melissa Clark's Roasted Fish with Sweet Peppers

Hello, hello!

I am sitting at my dining table eating a cold blueberry pancake leftover from yesterday's celebratory breakfast. Celebratory because it marked the end of an unexpected quarantine triggered by the fact that we sat very close to someone infected with Covid-19 on one of our flights home from Italy two weeks ago and the boys, being unvaccinated, were therefore classified as close contacts. Wait. Two weeks? That makes me laugh. Italy feels like it was months ago. Something about being stuck indoors with two little boys who very much would rather be in Kita and school will make 11 days feel like 11 weeks, right?

Anyway, the best news is, of course, that we all tested negative at the end of the quarantine. Today, in the pouring rain, Hugo set off for school with his six pounds of brand-new notebooks and freshly sharpened pencils (the pleasure I got from getting his stuff ready!) and art supplies and a new supply of ink cartridges for his fountain pen. Bruno zipped happily off to Kita, snack box under his arm. We are home alone now, Max in his office, me in the aforementioned dining room and it is very quiet which is what I've longed for, but I cannot help but feel like this is just a fleeting moment of normalcy and I don't quite know what to do with this weird, unpleasant mix of relief and dread.

Parents Are Not Okay about sums it up, yes? Yes.

Anyway. I know that I very much left you hanging with my promise to share lots of delicious food from Italy and I'm sorry about that. Italy this year was...not always easy. It was uncomfortably hot a lot of the time, I was trying to squeeze in work whenever I could and there were quite a bit of parenting difficulties which cast a pall over the holidays. Cooking was an afterthought most days. Which is very easy to do in a place where everything you buy at the market tastes like the sweetest, juiciest version of itself. Upon reentry to Berlin, it felt like I had to relearn how to put food on the table all over again.

I'm not quite back to actually looking up recipes and following them, but while I get there, I wanted to tell you about this slam dunk from Melissa Clark that I made in May when I was in Boston. My parents live not far from a wonderful fish store called Captain Marden's which was such a treat for me. In Berlin, I cook almost exclusively with frozen or canned fish. Fresh fish is a wild and rare exception. With fish as fresh as it was from Captain Marden's, you can get away with barely doing anything to the fish before eating. But if you follow this recipe, you'll be so, so happy you did.

This is a sheet-pan dinner, so it's easy, but there are a few elements to it. First, you roast a tangle of sliced bell peppers until they're starting to get soft and silky. Then you scrape them out of the way and put white fish fillets in the center of the pan, topped with thyme and olives. While this roasts, you make a sort of short-cut salsa verde with parsley, garlic, oil and vinegar. The salsa verde is served with the fish and peppers. (We ate the fish and peppers with boiled potatoes if my memory serves me, but rice would be nice too.) The whole thing was very satisfying and delicious and easy to execute. And just the thing to make when you're feeling slightly incompetent, but in dire need of something special. 

Sound familiar? I'm feeling extremely incompetent these days, like I'm failing at most things in my life. Motherhood, work, being a functioning human. Everything feels difficult, impossible, really, and when I lift my head from my own stupidly privileged situation, the scope of suffering elsewhere is nearly unbearable to contemplate. I know a lot of other people are feeling this way too. If you are, consider this my sympathetic fist bump. 

Melissa Clark's Roasted Fish with Sweet Peppers
Serves 4 to 5

1 small bunch lemon thyme or regular thyme
1 ½ pounds hake fillets
Fine sea salt and black pepper
3 large bell peppers, preferably 1 red, 1 orange and 1 yellow, thinly sliced
4 ½ tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling
¼ cup pitted, sliced black or green olives, or a combination
1 teaspoon sherry vinegar, plus more to taste
1 garlic clove, grated
1 cup loosely packed Italian parsley leaves, chopped

1. Heat oven to 400 degrees. Pull 1 tablespoon thyme leaves off the bunch and finely chop.

2. Season fish all over with a large pinch or two of salt and pepper and rub with chopped thyme leaves. Let rest at room temperature while you prepare peppers.

3. Spread peppers on a rimmed sheet pan, and toss with 1 1/2 tablespoons oil, 1/2 teaspoon salt and the black pepper to taste. Top peppers with the remaining thyme sprigs. Roast, tossing occasionally, until peppers are softened and golden at the edges, 15 to 20 minutes.

4. Increase oven temperature to 500 degrees. Push peppers to the edges of the pan, clearing a space in the center. Lay fish out on that empty space and drizzle with oil. Scatter olives over the top of fish and peppers. Roast until fish turns opaque and is just cooked through, 6 to 10 minutes.

5. Meanwhile, make a vinaigrette by combining vinegar, garlic and a pinch of salt in a bowl. Whisk in remaining 3 tablespoons olive oil, then whisk in parsley. Taste and add more salt or vinegar, or both, if needed. Serve fish and peppers drizzled with vinaigrette.