When my Mom came to visit during my senior year of college I knew exactly how we were going to spend our time together. In between classes we would see the city and at night I would cook meals that would blow her socks off, finally convincing her I possessed culinary skill. Up until that point my family did not have an exceedingly high opinion of the food I made, and rightly so. When I left home at seventeen years old they had only seen me make two things successfully: Mac N’ Cheese from the box and apple cobbler. The latter was actually pretty good, but it later played a starring role in a kitchen fiasco that involved fire, smoke, a screaming landlord and a failed attempt to impress my then boyfriend (now husband).

But things had changed since then. Now I could make a grilled cheese without turning its crispy, golden crust into something that resembled congealed ashes. I could make scrambled eggs that were fluffy and firm, and seasoned so adeptly that ketchup was rendered unnecessary. And, perhaps most importantly, I had learned how to cook a pot of pasta without turning the noodles to mush. I think you will agree that these were all dramatic improvements.

However, my mother was unaware of these developments because she lived in California, while I studied in Massachusetts. Sure I shared my excitement over a perfectly puffed souffle but she didn’t believe me. In fact, if it weren’t for this blog my grandmother still wouldn’t believe that I can make brioche or pot pies from scratch. She needed the photographic evidence to sway her, not to mention your kind comments that prove the recipes I post really do work and that they really are scrumptious. Like, en serio Nana, I can cook.

This is what I was up against five years ago when my Mom stepped off that plane and I brought her home for dinner. I had obsessed over the menu for days, debating main courses and even cultural influences. Should I cook Mexican food, the cuisine of my heritage? Classic American? Italian? And what about dessert? Oh god! Many possible dishes were rejected before finally settling upon a baked rigatoni dish made with vegetables simmered in red wine. It was, and remains, one of my favorite meals, with its heavy cream, Romano cheese and overtones of thyme and rosemary. It’s the kind of dish you expect to find in fine restaurants and a meal that has since caused dinner guests to ask things like: “Are you sure you’ve never taken professional cooking classes?” Yes, this dinner was going to forever change the way my family saw me.

When we arrived home my Mom settled in and my boyfriend kept her company, while I went to work in the kitchen. I prepared the tomatoes, eggplant, onion, celery and zucchini, lightly fried them in olive oil, then added red wine, thyme and a dash of salt and pepper. While the wine reduced over a medium flame, I cooked the pasta. Both the finished pasta and the reduced vegetables were then added to a buttered casserole dish, tossed together, and generously drizzled with a sauce made from cream, Romano cheese, eggs, rosemary, parsley and nutmeg. Do you see how gourmet this dish is? Eveything baked until the cheese was slightly browned and, to top it all off, half-way through baking I sprinkled bread crumbs and freshly grated Parmesan cheese over the top. Not long afterwards, I opened the oven and was engulfed in the aroma of toasted cheese, herbs and vegetables.

As the pasta cooled I set the table with my finest dinnerware, placed a crisp salad on the table and unveiled a fresh loaf of bread from the bakery down the street (this was before my bread making days). I served the pasta and placed the plates before everyone.

It was at this point, about two seconds after I put the dish of finely prepared pasta in front of my Mom, that she quietly reached into her purse and pulled out a bottle of Cholula Mexican Hot Sauce. My jaw dropped, my voice caught, and before I could utter a word she began generously dousing her pasta with hot sauce. Hot sauce! On my gourmet dish! “What on earth are you doing?!” I whispered, finding my voice. “What?” she asked, and it was at this point that my boyfriend (now my husband) burst into laughter, knowing full-well how much work had gone into this and reacting to the mother-daughter situation the only way he knew how.

“Aren’t you going to at least try the pasta before drowning it in hot sauce?!” I asked, though given my Mom’s memory of my cooking I couldn’t blame her. “There are subtle flavors in there Mom, great flavors, flavors I agonized over! Rosemary, thyme, nutmeg! Cream Mom, cream! Red wine! And you are covering it with $5 hot sauce?” She stared at me in confused silence before the dawn of understanding traveled across her face. “Oh. I… uh… thought the hot sauce might help.”

Thank God I made more pasta than three people could possibly eat. Recovering from my shock I put fresh pasta - hot sauce free pasta - on another plate, placed it in front of my Mom, and said, “Just try one bite without the hot sauce. If you don’t like it you can have the other plate back. Trust me Mom. OK?”

With doubt-filled eyes she nodded, speared a noodle and a zucchini slice with her fork then, oh so hesitantly, put the contents in her mouth. My Mom is not someone who can mask her emotions, everything shows on her face, and you could plainly see her bracing herself, stealing herself, against the taste. But as she started to chew and the flavors of fine home cooking washed over her, she relaxed. “This is pretty good!” she exclaimed with surprise. “I’m impressed,” she continued, breaking off a piece of bread and smearing it in the pasta sauce, “I don’t think I need the Cholula.”

This is how my Mom discovered my cooking and now, with the benefit of years, we laugh about it. But to this day I place a bottle of Cholula Mexican Hot sauce on the table whenever I serve this dish to her. She blushes, I smile and my husband shakes his head. It’s our inside joke.

Baked Rigatoni with Red Wine Vegetables and Creamy Sauce
Adapted from “The Pasta Bible.”
Tools: Large casserole dish, knife, large pot, large saucepan, large bowl.
Ingredients: Makes 5-6 servings.

• 1 lb rigatoni
• butter for greasing the baking dish, about 1 tbs
• 4 tablespoons butter, melted
• 1 small eggplant, cut into small cubes
• 1 large zucchini, thinly sliced
• 2 celery stalks
• 1 garlic clove, minced
• 3 large ripe tomatoes
• 1/4 cup olive oil
• 1/4 cup minced Vidalia onion
• 1 tablespoon dry thyme
• 1/2 cup dry red wine
• 1/2 tablespoon kosher salt
• Black pepper to taste

For the cream sauce:

• 1 cup grated Romano cheese, freshly grated if possible
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 1 egg yolk plus 1 egg, whisked together
• 1 tablespoon mixed dry herbs: parsley & rosemary
• Salt and black pepper, to taste
• Freshly grated nutmeg, to taste

For the bread crumb topping:

• 1/4 cup fine white bread crumbs
• 1/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F and put a large pot of water on to boil.

Remove the stem ends from your eggplant and cut the eggplant into small cubes. Thinly slice the zucchini and celery. Peel and mince the garlic. Mince the onion.

When the water has come to a boil cut a small X in the bottoms of your tomatoes, just deep enough to pierce the skin. Place the tomatoes in the water and blanch them for 1 to 2 minutes, until you see the skin begin to peel off. With a slotted spoon remove the tomatoes and place them in a large bowl filled with cold water. Peel, seed and dice the tomatoes. Set aside.

Rinse the pot and refill it with water. Set over high heat and bring the water to a boil.

In the meantime, heat the oil in your sauce pan and saute the onion and garlic until translucent. Add the eggplant, zucchini and celery, fry over high heat for 4 to 5 minutes, stirring constantly. Add the diced tomatoes and thyme, season with salt and pepper, and add the red wine. Cook uncovered over high heat until the vegetables are soft and the liquid has reduced by half. Remove from the heat when done. (A good way to judge whether the liquid has reduced by half is to stick the handle end of a wooden spoon into the pot just after the wine has been added. Now you have a visual measurement of how much liquid there was at the beginning. The mixture is done when the handle measures half of the original height.)

When the water has come to a boil add a generous dash or two of salt. Cook the rigatoni until almost al dente, about 1 minute less than the package recommended cooking time. While the pasta is cooking butter your casserole dish. Drain the pasta, add it to the casserole dish, then add in the vegetables. Mix well.

To make the creamy sauce whisk the Romano cheese with the cream and eggs, add the herbs and season with a pinch of salt, pepper and fresh nutmeg. One or two grates of the nutmeg should suffice. Pour the sauce over the pasta and vegetables.

Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, moistening the top occasionally with the melted butter. Halfway through baking mix the bread crumbs and Parmesan together, then sprinkle over the top of the dish and moisten with some of the melted butter. Allow the pasta to cool and set for 5 to 10 minutes before serving.

There comes a time in every cook’s life when he or she looks around and realizes that their house is full of nuts. This has nothing to do with relatives or one’s proximity to them, rather it’s the almond, walnut and macadamia of which I speak. All those earthy seeds that add so much flavor to even the simplest dish, except for peanuts, which despite their name, are legumes. Those who dislike nuts will likely never find their homes overrun by them, but otherwise I believe this is a fate that shall befall us all. If it hasn’t happened to you yet, just wait.

In my kitchen it is not unusual to find a collection of half-empty nut packages, the number of which has grown so large that a few bags topple onto the counter when the cupboard door stops holding them in. While this may seem extreme, I assure you, it’s not. Indeed, if you take into account all the goodies and snacks that can be gleaned from a healthy assortment of nuts, it could even be argued that not having so many on hand is the odd thing. At least, that’s what I tell my husband when he says things like: “Good lord Ari! Where did all these nuts come from?! Something has to be done. I can’t even find the pasta.”

This is what happened a few days ago when the remnants of a recent baking extravaganza threatened to make Italian food a thing of the past. There were pistachios (from baklava) and walnuts (also from baklava, I was experimenting), a decently sized bag (or two) of macadamias, and bag of pecans. And since the hubby did have a point, I tallied the lot and began my mission to rid our apartment of enough nuts to restore pasta to its rightful place (in the right hand cupboard, middle compartment, above the tea).

The result? Two buttermilk coffee cakes flavored with cinnamon and a hint of ginger, the first topped with macadamias and the second with pecans. They smelled divine, and while they cooled I whipped up a batch of spiced cream coffee, then placed the cakes on my prettiest cake stands before happily showing off to my husband. “Look at this,” I said, “I cleared enough space in the cupboard for spaghetti!”

Buttermilk Cinnamon Coffee Cake

Buttermilk Cinnamon Coffee Cake
Adapted from “Morning Food” by Margaret S. Fox.
Ingredients: Makes 1 cake

• 2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 2 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon powdered ginger
• 1 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
• 3/4 cup white sugar
• 3/4 cup olive oil
• 1 cup chopped macadamias or pecans
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1 large egg, beaten
• 1 cup buttermilk

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

In a large bowl combine the flour, salt, 2 teaspoons of cinnamon, ginger and both sugars. Mix, then break apart any clumps of brown sugar with your hands. Add the olive oil and stir to combine. Remove 3/4 cup of the mixture and add it to the nuts along with the remaining 1/2 teaspoon of cinnamon. Stir to coat, then set aside.

Grease a bundt pan with a small amount of olive oil, or with Pam olive oil cooking spray. (The Pam butter spray is ok too.)

Add the baking powder, baking soda, egg and buttermilk to the remaining batter. Mix to combine. It’s ok if there are small lumps in the batter but break apart any large ones with the back of your spoon. Evenly pour the batter into the bundt pan, then sprinkle the nut mixture over the surface. It will look like it’s too much but it’s not. Some of the nuts will sink down into the batter and the others will lightly toast on the top.

Lightly spray the nuts with cooking spray, then place the pan in the oven. Bake for 40 to 45 minutes. It’s done with the top has a light golden brown color and a toothpick inserted into the cake comes out clean. Remove the pan from the oven and allow it to cool for at least 15 minutes.

Using a butter knife, gently trace the edges of the cake to make sure the sides haven’t stuck to the pan. Now place a large plate on top and, holding the plate and pan together, invert the two. You can do this again if you want the nuts to be on top for serving.

Spiced Cream Coffee (My Recipe)
Ingredients: Makes 2 servings

• 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
• 1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
• 1 tbs sugar for whipped cream, plus more for the coffee
• 1/2 cup heavy cream
• 2 cups freshly brewed coffee (using 2 tbs of coffee per 1 cup of water)
• 1 tbs chocolate syrup
• About 1 cup whole milk

In a small bowl that has been chilled in the freezer, combine 1/4 teaspoon of the cinnamon, all the nutmeg and 1 tablespoon sugar with the cream. Whip with a handheld mixer until stiff peaks form.

In each coffee cup: Pour 1/3 to 1/2 cup of milk (depending on how much milk you like in your coffee), 1/8 tsp cinnamon and 1/2 tablespoon chocolate syrup. Mix well, then heat in the microwave for 60 seconds. Remove any skin that may have formed with a spoon, then add 1 cup of freshly brewed coffee and 2-4 tsps of sugar according to taste. Top with the spiced whipped cream. Serve immediately.