My Big Fat Greek Easter

Forget the Cadbury Creme Eggs, Peeps and chocolate bunnies. Spring is all about lamb, phyllo, feta and more lamb.

Did I mention lamb?

This Sunday was Ryan and my 2nd annual Greek Easter celebration with our (obviously) Greek friend and his family. The party was at his house in Yonkers, N.Y., which got me pumped for two reasons: 1. I'd finally be able to see his outdoor brick oven in action and 2. His mom would be there with one of my favorite versions of spanakopita.

I'm slowly picking up on Greek Easter traditions—including learning my first Greek phrase, "Christos anesti," which means "Christ is risen." (The response is "Alithos anesti," or "He has risen indeed.") Every person who walks in the door is greeted this way.

There's also the tradition of tsougrisma, where each person receives a hardboiled, dyed egg and taps it against another's; the player with the uncracked egg continues. The last person remaining without a broken shell is declared winner and will have good luck the rest of the year. (For the record, I didn't win—this year or last.)

Not surprisingly, all the food was delicious. The roast lamb, artichokes and lemon potatoes were the centerpiece, surrounded by spanakopita, cheese pie (tiropita), moussaka, roasted chicken, two salads, Easter bread, Greek-style sliders, and on and on. I contributed non-Greek dishes, including a fresh ricotta and smashed pea spread with crostini (thanks to my good friend and fellow culinary grad, Amanda) as well as a shaved asparagus, aged gouda and hazelnut salad with lemon-honey vinaigrette.

Of course, a boatload of desserts followed the gut-busting dinner. I had to laugh when a tray of Greek cookies was accented with a few electric yellow Peeps and foil-wrapped eggs—a little bit of American tradition tossed into the mix.

The feast was not unlike the holidays I grew up celebrating in that it was huge. Leftovers abounded, and every guest took home a 9 x 13 aluminum pan full of food. Ryan and I have been eating Greek all week. I even made a hearty ragu with the leftover lamb and artichokes, adding some diced tomatoes, onions, red wine and other herbs and spices, then topping it with a mound of ricotta cheese (thank you, chef Andrew Carmellini, for the inspiration).

A-tisket, a-tasket, next year I want lamb in my Easter basket.

Going Green

For some, Friday, April 22, was Good Friday; for others, it was Passover. But for everyone around the world, despite religion, it was Earth Day.

In honor of the global holiday, I celebrated with a green meal. Yes, the food was primarily green in color (you should know by now how much I love double entendres), but I also thought about the environmental impacts of what I served.

First let me say that by no means am I a perfect example of sustainability. I try to be cognizant of what I'm putting in my stomach, whether it's at home or dining out. However, I know that everything I eat is not always local/humanely raised/fair trade/organic/etc. To be honest, it's quite difficult to live 100 percent this way (even yesterday's meal could be improved upon), but I try to do it as much as possible.

I chose a simple, spring dinner: Curry-dusted scallops over a pea puree with an arugula and spring onion salad.

Sustainable seafood has become a big topic of discussion, and thanks to the Monterey Bay Aquarium, people can be more conscious about what they're buying. Its Seafood Watch program allows people to scroll through a chart of seafood and make choices for healthy oceans. Whole Foods is using this program to guide consumers by placing labels on each item (the scallops I purchased there were listed as a "Good Alternative"—not the top "Best Choice" label, but I imagine better than most of what's out there.) You can also download the free phone app like I did.

There's also a big push for eating in season. Sadly, local peas haven't arrived at the Greenmarket (nor has any spring vegetable for that matter) so I bought frozen. (For more, read this piece by Michael Pollan on why frozen veggies are sometimes a good option.) I did, however, pick up a box of local arugula from one of my favorites, Satur Farms, located in nearby Long Island.

Curry-dusted Scallops with Pea Puree (Courtesy of Gourmet)

Yield: 4 servings

1 10-ounce package frozen peas (not thawed)

1/4 cup water

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

2 scallions, chopped (I used a 1/2 cup of spring onions)

1 to 2 tablespoons fresh lime juice

2 teaspoons curry powder

1/2 teaspoon pepper

1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste

1 1/2 pounds sea scallops, muscle removed from side of each

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

1. Cook peas on stovetop in a small pot with 1/4 cup of water according to package directions; do not drain. Pulse in a food processor with cooking water, butter and scallions to make a course puree. Add lime juice and salt to taste.

2. Stir together curry powder and 1/2 teaspoon each salt and pepper. Pat scallops dry and coat all over with curry mixture.

3. Heat a large nonstick skillet over high heat; add oil. Saute scallops in two batches, turning once, until browned and just cooked through, about 4 minutes per batch. Serve scallops over the pea puree.

The meal was not only simple and satisfying, it made me feel like I was contributing a bit to the planet's well being. Time to make this an Earth Year.

All Thai'd Up

After a recent work-related event, I found myself carrying home a 14-ounce can of coconut milk, a bottle of fish sauce, a jar of red curry paste and dried lemongrass. What's a girl to do but the obvious, i.e., whip up a Thai-inspired dinner?

When I phoned Ryan and told him we were having coconut curry tilapia, it was like he'd won a prize. (I should have expected this: I'm pretty sure I noticed him staring longingly at the Madras curry powder I bought a month ago and hadn't opened.) Do people know that curry might just be a way to a man's heart? Perhaps I should alert the masses.

There was barely a trace of the sauce, which was supposed to be for four, remaining in the pan less than a half-hour later.

Coconut Curry Tilapia (adapted from Cooking Light)

Yield: 4 servings

1 teaspoon sesame oil, divided

1 teaspoon vegetable oil

2 teaspoons fresh ginger, minced

2 garlic cloves, minced

1/2 stalk of dried lemongrass (soften it in a bit of warm water before using—or just use fresh)

1 red bell pepper, thinly sliced

1 small yellow onion, thinly sliced

2 teaspoons curry powder (I used Madras)

2 teaspoons red curry paste

2 teaspoons low-sodium soy sauce

1 teaspoon fish sauce

1 tablespoon brown sugar

1 can (14 ounces) coconut milk

Salt, to taste

2 tablespoons fresh cilantro, chopped

4 tilapia fillets, approximately 6 to 8 ounces each

1 lime, cut in wedges

1. Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

2. Heat 1/2 teaspoon of sesame oil and 1 teaspoon of vegetable oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add ginger, garlic and lemongrass and cook 1 minute. Add peppers and onions and cook 2-3 minutes. Stir in curry powder and curry paste; cook another minute. Add soy sauce, fish sauce, brown sugar and coconut milk and bring to a simmer (do not boil). Simmer for about 5 minutes, then remove from heat, season with salt and stir in cilantro.

3. Meanwhile, brush fish with remaining sesame oil and season with salt. Place fillets on a baking sheet coated with cooking spray (or line with parchment paper). Bake 7 minutes or until fish flakes easily when tested with a fork.

4. Serve fish with sauce, lime wedges and basmati or jasmine rice.

Someone just might want to Thai the knot with you after this one.

Born and Bred

I wasn't bred to make bread.

Well, I take that back. While baking bread wasn't part of my family's weekly (or even monthly) repertoire—besides the couple years my mom used the revolutionary bread machine—I have vivid memories of three varieties that appeared consistently year after year. I'll call them the Bread Holy Trinity: They were Irish soda bread, Polish sweet bread and Slovenian nut bread (potica).

I've already told the story about soda bread, which my grandmother learned from an Irish friend and made every St. Patrick's day. The same grandmother (Grandma Perron) also baked Polish sweet bread—a recipe I'm sharing in this post—annually for Easter. My dad's mom, Grandma Mary, mastered potica; we'd look forward to it every Christmas.

Our family can eat bread like the last-standing bakery is closing up shop. Yet, when it comes to making bread, it's definitely a special occasion process.

Every Easter, my grandma would make sweet bread. She learned it from her mother. Three generations later, my mom is still using the original pans from her grandmother (my great-grandmother). Last weekend, I was lucky enough to have a private tutorial by my mom who was featured in Cleveland's Plain Dealer in 2008 for the recipe.

Grandma's Polish Sweet Bread

Yield: 3 to 4 loaves

For the dough:

3 cups of 2-percent or whole milk

1 cup plus 1/2 teaspoon sugar

3/4 cup margarine (yes, my great-grandmother used margarine)

2 packages (1/4 ounce each) active dry yeast (not rapid rise) or 4 1/2 teaspoons active dry yeast from jar

1/4 cup lukewarm water (110-115 degrees)

6 large eggs, room temperature

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon vanilla

8 cups AP flour

1/2 teaspoon nutmeg

2 cups yellow raisins, soaked for 10 minutes in warm water and drained

For the topping:

1/2 cup margarine, melted and cooled

2 tablespoons sugar

1 tablespoon cinnamon

2 Granny Smith apples, peeled and sliced into 1/2-inch slices

1. Add one cup sugar and 3/4 cup margarine to the milk in the saucepan, then scald over low heat. Remove from heat and cool completely.

2. Proof the yeast in lukewarm water, adding 1/2 teaspoon sugar and quickly mixing. Set aside for 5 minutes until the yeast bubbles.

3. Beat eggs, salt and vanilla. In a large, separate bowl, sift together flour and nutmeg.

4. Form a well in the middle of the flour mixture. Add a small amount of the cooled scalded milk mixture along with a bit of the egg mixture and all of the proofed yeast; mix to combine. Add the remaining milk and egg mixtures and blend well. Beat with wooden spoon until the dough becomes smooth and glossy and leaves the sides of the bowl, about 15 to 20 minutes. (This can also be done with a stand mixer, which I used. It will take about half the amount of time.) Thoroughly mix in raisins. And don't worry—dough will be sticky!

5. If using a stand mixer, transfer the dough to a large bowl. Cover the bowl with wax paper and then a towel and place in a warm spot. Let rise until doubled in size.

6. After the first rise, punch down dough with a spoon to release air. Grease 3-4 baking pans and divide the dough among them. (The dough should come halfway up the sides.) Cover with wax paper and let it double in size again.

7. Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 350 degrees. When the dough has risen, make the topping. Melt the remaining 1/2 cup margarine and spoon over each loaf. Combine the sugar and cinnamon and divide it in half. Sprinkle the loaves with half the mixture. Lightly press apple slices, cored edges down, on the top of each loaf. Sprinkle the remaining half of the cinnamon sugar on top.

8. Bake bread 20 minutes, then turn down the temperature to 325 degrees and bake an additional 30 minutes or until each loaf tests done. Remove from oven and let cool in pans 5 minutes, then turn them onto wire racks to completely cool. Store in resealable bags.

I look forward to trying the recipe on my own next Easter—or maybe even prior. My goal this year is to dive into bread making a bit more. Polish sweet bread would be good practice.

After all, I just ate the last bit of the loaf for breakfast. Tip: French toast is better with grandma's bread.

Family Food

To say that I eat well when I'm with my family would be an understatement.

For the Knifics, eating is something of a sport. We constantly talk about food, have opinions regarding what we've consumed, compare dishes, plan meals and rank restaurants. When I'm visiting my parents in Ohio, our time together typically centers around food. Whether it's learning a family recipe from my mom or enjoying a meal by chef Michael Symon, our preferred activity is pretty obvious.

I arrived back in New York earlier today after a weekend with my mom, dad and brother (sadly, sans Ryan). I booked a last-minute flight to spend time with my mom, who recently underwent surgery. My hope was to cook a couple dinners for her so she could relax and get back to her full strength.

Although we didn't head to any restaurants, we definitely did our fair share of eating. With the help of my brother, Christopher, I spent the weekend cooking up a storm. From osso buco with saffron risotto (one of my mom's favorites) to coffee-crusted pork tenderloin with bourbon cream sauce and polenta, we ate like it was going out of style. Christopher even made his grilled artichokes, which is one of my personal favorites. And my dad, the official family mixologist, poured a few cocktails and selected some wines to pair perfectly with the food.

Being who she is, my mom still managed to find her way into the kitchen. ("Mom, please rest! It's good for you!") She showed me how to make her mom's Polish Sweet Bread, which I plan to dedicate an entire post to soon.

Even with my mom not feeling up to par, we unsurprisingly found a way to make food the main event. My mom, of course, was the star guest.

Steak, Rattle & Roll

I remember the way my parents' house used to smell when steak rolls were for dinner. It was a distinct mix of beef, bacon and onions—an aroma I haven't experienced for quite some time.

Recently, a friend mentioned that he made braciole. My mind immediately went to the steak rolls, and I couldn't get them out of my head. I craved the smell—and of course the taste. It was time to leaf through my trusty recipe box and find an old favorite.

I give my Grandma Perron steak roll credit; I think she would be proud of my end result. Thanks to her, my mom learned the recipe. Aside from a couple changes—mostly due to what I had in my apartment—I stayed very true to the original recipe.

Grandma Perron's Steak Rolls

1 1/4 pound thinly sliced top round (or sirloin tip) steak, pounded to 1/4-inch thickness

1 medium red onion, thinly sliced and divided

4 slices peppered bacon

Salt and pepper

AP flour, for dredging

1 tablespoon butter

1 tablespoon olive oil

2 cups beef broth

1/2 cup dry red wine

4 ounces mushrooms, sliced

2 thyme sprigs

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

2. Cut pounded steak into equal-size portions (I cut four pieces into thirds for 12 portions). Slice each piece of bacon into thirds.

3. On each piece of steak, place a strip of bacon and a few red onions. Roll and secure with a toothpick; in some cases, more than one toothpick might be necessary. Season the rolls with salt and pepper, then dredge in flour.

4. Heat a saute pan on medium-high; add butter and oil. Working in batches, add rolls and sear on all sides. Remove from pan and place in an 8 by 8-inch baking dish. Deglaze the pan with wine and reduce by half. Add beef broth, remaining onion, mushrooms and thyme and bring to a boil. Pour sauce over the browned rolls.

5. Bake rolls 45 minutes to 1 hour or until tender.

6. Remove rolls with tongs onto a plate and cover. Pour liquid into a sauce pan and reduce until thickened, about 20 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Serve rolls with sauce—and a mound of mashed potatoes.

Growing up, the recipe was a favorite of my meat-eating family. After seeing my carnivorous husband's reaction, I'm pretty sure this will be a favorite of his, too.