Another reminder — I’m posting over at TheKitchenSinkRecipes.com now.  Head on over to read about this menu (and don’t forget to update your subscriptions/bookmarks/etc)!

Big, juicy news!  I’m so excited to tell you about something I’ve been daydreaming about for a long while and working on for the last couple weeks.  This blog is moving to thekitchensinkrecipes.com.  Head on over for a new post and a gander at the new layout.  Be sure to change your subscriptions to the new address.

So come on over to the new, improved The Kitchen Sink.  There are cookies waiting for you …

Around this time of year—the dregs of the winter—Kevin and I are prone to hermitism.  It’s a serious condition that affects those of us in the northern reaches of this country, confining us to our homes, leaving us yearning for turtleneck sweaters and hearty food.  Sure, we leave the house for work, but happy hour?  No thank you!  Dinner down the block?  Are you nuts?  A walk around the neighborhood?  Take a hike!

So, I was downright shocked to find us triple booked for the Super Bowl last Sunday.  Triple!  Booked!  Frankly, I didn’t even think we had that many friends (or maybe I just didn’t remember them, given that we are weeks into the whole hermitism thing at this point and, I dare say, some of said friends have perhaps fallen prey to the syndrome too).  In the end, we could only make it to two of the parties, which was about as much social interaction as us hermitism-afflicted souls could take.  Hermitism side effects aside, two parties meant one thing: two treats.

When we bundled up to head to Party #1 last Sunday, we gathered up a big bowl of savory popcorn (in short: freshly popped corn, hot melted butter, lots of grated parmigiano reggiano, slivers of fresh rosemary and a heavy dose of cracked black pepper) and a tray of brownies.

Not just any brownies, though, because this was the Super Bowl after all.  They were turtle brownies, which basically meant a cakey, moist, almost loamy layer of classic brownies blanketed with a sheet of walnut-studded caramel.

They’re kind of a spectacle, these brownies, matching the football game we watched as we ate them.  Just like the Super Bowl amps up the normal NFL game (not exactly a toned down event to begin with), this recipe takes the unadorned brownie (rich and lovely in its own right) over the top with decadence.

With a few tweaks, I think they could be the perfect decadent dessert.  I was a bit disappointed by the caramel (it was a little light, even though I let it bubble on the stove for five minutes longer than the recipe instructed, and it got a little grainy and it cracked when I cut it … but in the end it was still caramel, so I can’t complain too loudly) and might go for more of a salted caramel method—for a little depth to cut the sweetness—next time I make these (which might not be for a while, for the sake of my blood sugar level).  I do plan to test out some modifications and I’ll keep you posted on my findings.  In the meantime, though, you can find me on the couch, reading a riveting book, slurping from a mug of hot soup.  You know, reverting to hermitism.

Recipe here.

The past two mornings, I have actually been grateful for the mirrored elevators that usher me up 43 floors to my office everyday.  Usually, I find these mirrored elevators to be a real conundrum.  How do I abide by the socially-acceptable (totally SNL-skit-ish) custom of staring straight at the closed elevator doors, carefully avoiding all eye contact with my fellow elevator passengers when doing so leaves me staring directly at, well, myself? It’s weird.  But the last two mornings, as I said, have been different.  I have stepped onto the elevators, heard the recorded elevator lady saying “Going Up” in her ambiguous, international accented English, felt the doors slide quickly closed and said a silent thank you as I looked directly into the mirrored walls.  Because doing so allowed me to confirm that no, my face had not actually frozen off during my brief walk from the gym to the office.

It’s been that cold.

But, I’m happy to report that the mirrored elevators have not been the only highlight to my Tuesday and Wednesday (thank god).  Because both days I’ve had a lunch date with the microwave near my office and a tupperware full of this sweet potato, sausage and kale soup.

Between the chunks of sunset-hued sweet potatoes, the vibrantly green crinkled kale, the meaty chickpeas, the hearty bits of sausage and a strong punch of heat from the dried chile flakes, this soup could make even the most bone chilling (or, say, face freezing) day seem cozy.  I can’t wait to have it again tomorrow.

Sweet Potato, Sausage and Kale Soup
Cooking Light

Printable Recipe

1 tablespoon olive oil
4 cups chopped onion (about 2 large)
1 teaspoon salt, divided
1 teaspoon crushed red pepper
6 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
1 pound bulk spicy turkey Italian sausage
8 cups coarsely chopped peeled sweet potato (about 2 1/4 pounds)
5 cups water
4 cups fat-free, less-sodium chicken broth
1 bunch kale, chopped
1 (16-ounce) can chickpeas or white beans, drained and rinsed

Heat oil in a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add onion; sauté 5 minutes. Add 1/2 teaspoon salt, pepper, and garlic; sauté 1 minute. Remove casings from sausage; add sausage to pan. Cook 5 minutes or until sausage is lightly browned, stirring to crumble. Add potato, 5 cups water, and broth; bring to a boil. Reduce heat, and simmer 8 minutes. Gradually add kale; cook 10 minutes or until tender. Stir in remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt (to taste) and beans; cook 5 minutes or until thoroughly heated.

My girlfriends and I threw a bridal shower for our friend Emily on Saturday night. It wasn’t a run-of-the-mill shower, by any means. It was at night, for one thing. And we traded dainty cups of tea for icy blood orange margaritas. Oh, and one other thing: the bride was already married! (She went and had such a quick engagement that we didn’t have time to fête her before the nuptials; thankfully, we (and she) subscribe to the better late than never philosophy.) All in all, the tequila and the darkness and the married lady made for a great bridal shower.

Surprising no one, I jumped at the chance to cook for the shower. I’ll admit that the first item on the menu was the margaritas. But today’s recipe was the second thing I added to the menu. I knew Emily liked chickpeas and I did all sorts of brainstorming for a chickpea dish. Again and again, I came back to a chickpea salad that has become a staple for us since I discovered it on Orangette.

Not willing to relinquish my original margarita plan, I decided to give the chickpea salad a latin twist to fit our fiesta theme. I traded the lemon juice in the original recipe for lime juice and used grated manchego in place of grated parmesan. I also threw in some minced cilantro and finely chopped red onion. But I heeded Molly’s keys to the recipe: a good quality canned bean and excellent olive oil. Salt (I used kosher) is important too; taste as you go until you’ve got just enough to make all the flavors sing.

The original recipe is hard to beat, but this incarnation was pretty great too. The lime juice and olive oil melt the manchego into an almost creamy vinaigrette that wraps up the meaty beans. And the flecks of purple onion and grassy herbs give a little pop of brightness, both in terms of color and flavor. It was right at home with the margaritas and, even more importantly, it met the guest of honor’s high chickpea standards.

Chickpea Salad with Cilantro and Lime
Adapted from Orangette (original recipe here)

3 15-ounce can chickpeas, drained and rinsed
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
1 1/2 tablespoons best quality olive oil
1/2 cup finely diced red onions
1/4 cup minced cilantro
1/4 cup loosely packed shredded manchego cheese
big pinch kosher salt, plus more to taste

Combine all ingredients in a bowl, and stir gently to mix. Taste, and adjust seasoning as necessary. Serve immediately, or chill, covered, until serving.

Yield: 6-8 servings