I realize it is the end of January and the Holiday Season has come a gone and perhaps with the roundness of our bellies, best be forgotten.

However, a dear friend of mine gave me a well-appointed holiday present over our ritual cup of coffee: a book of 50 recipes for hot drinks. Which was quite fun, since when I am craving a steaming drink I usually just make hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps or coffee with Irish cream.

But that is all about to change.

And the funny thing is, I read through the whole book, and instead of making one of the drink recipes listed, I began playing with my own ideas for hot drinks. Go figure.

I find that sometimes while reading a recipe, I am taking in all the flavors and imagining the outcome, but also making mental adjustments. Sometimes, it means I am cutting out unnecessary steps, or short-cutting a method (is impatience a virtue when it comes to cooking? maybe sometimes?). Other times I have a miniature light bulb flash (indiscreetly) over my head and another seasoning or flavor add-on or substitution tempts my curiosity.

Needless to say, I will probably make a few of those book recipes one day… but was quite happy with my own, easy-to-make drink:

Orange Cinnamon Coffee
Serves 1.

Strong, full-bodied coffee (I use/love French Press)
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1 oz Bailey’s Irish Cream
1/2 oz Grand Marnier

Place cinnamon and liquors in bottom of mug. Fill to top with coffee. Top with whipped cream and orange zest, if desired.

Gamut is a great word. On June 19, 1999 it was the official word of the day. Did you know there was an official word of the day? The word originally referred to the full musical scale (1529); later it was used to explain a range of colors/hues in a similar way. Now, we use it to describe a full range—or reach—of things from human emotion, to political opinion to, well, granola.

And I wouldn’t use the word in the same breath as granola, except for the fact that apparently, it was National Granola Week a few weeks back. I had no idea, but then again ‘granola week’ likely wouldn’t squeeze through the filter of ‘what do I need to know logistically to successfully implement multiple children’s school/work/social/homework/instrument/foreign language schedules for this week’? Who knows, maybe it is just me, but ‘granola week’ would’ve been filtered out, deleted and altogether tossed as an insignificant detail, too trivial to address in our harried-rearing-children-what’s for dinner-sign this field trip form-who is driving to soccer pseudo hyperventilating state. Just a lucky guess: granola would have somehow gone unnoticed.

Not that there isn’t a time and place for the importance of granola to surface, when it should sift to the top of life’s noise. Perhaps that is why someone gave granola it’s own week? (Granted, they didn’t ask me, but if they had it wouldn’t have made the headlines—perhaps not even footnotes—which is probably why they didn’t ask me). Despite someone’s best efforts to bring granola to my attention—it actually does catch my affection from time to time, all on its own:

When I consume it.

Now that might sound easy, but in reality I am often too harried and reeling and moving and taxi-ing that I fail to notice the food that I inhale en route. It is a good resolution then, and in step with a food philosophy I gladly borrow from French Women Don’t Get Fat, to simply notice the flavors and textures of food while it is in my mouth. DO take the time to enjoy your food, by all means, no matter how busy you are. It doesn’t mean you have to dedicate a full week to a good-grained cereal, but when you do pop a spoonful judiciously into your mouth, yes please do savor it. Especially since their is a Gamut of Granola to enjoy.

And in the same vein, be vain about your granola. Pick a good one; be snobbish about the nutrition, the taste, the personalization of your granola. You are eating it after all, and if it is made in my kitchen, I will be bagging it and sharing it with my friends. So it is important to be selective about your granola. And thanks to all who were aware of this national week of granola dedication, we now have the gamut of flavors and profiles and grains and sweets and gluten-free and good-as-gravy granola you can possibly imagine. Or that all of them have imagined. But together, despite the fact that granola may have been lost on you or on me, we have this lovely opportunity to benefit from the gamut of granola-making gurus all across the web:

• Granola overview from USAweekend
• Random excerpt on the History of Granola
• Making granola with Mark Bittman, NYTimes
• Great list of granola recipes from Alanna Kellog via Blogher
• Uncle Austin’s Granola from Homesick Texan
• Pumpkin Butter and Pepita Granola from Smitten Kitchen
• Blessings Granola from One Hungry Soul
• Laura Dot cooks… granola!
• Your kids will like Peanut Butter & Chocolate Granola from Life, Love, and Food
• Wikipedia weighs in on Granola

And here is the most recent granola that I made, savored, begged-for-the-recipe, and shared:

Connie’s Granola*
4 cups oats
1 cup coconut
1 cup nuts (walnuts, pecans)
1/3 cup wheat germ
1/3 cup honey
1/3 cup oil
1/3 cup brown sugar

Bake at 275 for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. When finished, stir in 1 cup raisins or craisins.*Connie: you know who you are. Thanks for sharing—and giving me permission to share—this granola recipe!

It is one of those sauces that well, can find a home on many plates, aside many dishes or is perfectly happy just being smeared on that last bit of bread. That was how it went for me: my first experience with this tomato-based concoction. It was Christmas Eve, and we went out to dinner—a family tradition, who has time to cook when there are presents to wrap?—and this sauce uneventfully sat next to a few slices of bread.

The event was my first bite.

I of course asked for the ingredients (so innocent am I, oh this is so good, what is in it anyway?). And lucky for me there was paper and a pen nearby. When the waiter turned on his heel to leave, I wrote—like rapid fire—the list of ingredients he mindlessly decanted.

And later, at home, I played with amounts and landed on a recipe. And that recipe, this Tomato Feta Olive Sauce, has since landed on asparagus, under a poached egg, on toast and over white fish.

Tomato Feta Olive Sauce
1/4 cup basil
1/3 cup chopped kalamata olives
2 T finely chopped red onion
1/3 cup chopped feta
2 T olive oil
1 can plum tomatoes
kosher salt, coarse pepper

Mix all in bowl; serve at room temperature. Keeps well in fridge for 4-5 days.

Notes: play with the ingredients, slice ingredients large or tiny, increase the feta if you like more cheese, adjust the seasonings. I used a 28 oz can of plum tomatoes, but drained them from the sauce and lightly crushed and cut them. I loved the olives and feta, so my next round will have more… and I might even try this with roasted romas sometime…

I cannot take credit for the title: it is the name of a book I just finished reading. And I recommend it; it is an amalgamation of food writers, each giving an excerpt from their lives. Specifically, they share about times in their lives when they ate alone—and what surfaced as their indulgent, self-prescribed comfort food.

I liked that each authors’ experience was vastly different from the next. Some loved the ease of a thoughtless meal, the comfort of something they enjoyed, most particularly when alone. Some set an individual setting at their table—with manners and napkins in order—while others skipped the table altogether. Some meals morphed into good recipes, worthy of cookbooks and table-mates. Other meals hardly earned the name meal, and though they served their function, are best left tucked into that historical chapter of the author’s life.

And it gave me pause. And a small smile during that pause, as my mind began to travel back in my own life, looking for times I was alone, on my own, in my kitchen. What did I cook in a hurry? What meal did I seem to make time and again? Was there a dish I ate a million times but never tired of? Food that for me, became synonymous with solitude?

I had a few pop into my mind. The most common meal in my college days was a skillet grilled Quesadilla, filled with refried beans and shredded cheddar (a tsp of butter per side for the brown crispiness against the warm, cheesy gooey goodness). And there was that one summer when a regular craving for grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches never seemed to subside…

Another ‘me-meal’ is pictured above, a more recent addition, a pseudo-sandwich that filled many noons last summer. I cannot remember the first such sandwich; no doubt it was inspired by a larger-than-life heirloom tomato at my nearby Farmer’s Market. One tomato would delight my palate across multiple meals. A juicy slice or two topped a crusty toasted piece of bread, with herb-marinated Montrachet cheese (spread on while the toast was still warm), a drizzle of olive oil, some pepper if I was patient. Just the thought transports me to summery days, with light shining through my window and the building of this great little meal… no plate required… napkin likely… sitting optional.

If you want to sneak a peak at the book, hit the STORE button above, it is in the reading section. The cover is beautiful; and yes if you buy it through talkoftomatoes store I make a little. I would guesstimate .37 cents. But imagine what a writer and cook could do with half an eggplant…

How would that be for a New Year resolution? (I know what you are thinking, too late for New Year Resolutions. But I like to be a bit unconventional, and sometimes waiting until February to apply resolutions isn’t a bad idea: besides, the gym is far less crowded in Feb than it is in Jan).

I have heard of those who eat dessert first. Those who deliberately skip to their favorite foods, prioritizing them according to their preferences—instead of conventions. Why? Why not? Life is short; eat dessert first.

I confess that won’t be a part of my resolutions, in part because I prefer my sweets at the end of a meal. But in the case of my kitchen this week, skipping right to dessert worked out just fine.

I made default dinners this week, two of them (Turkey Meatballs w/Marinara and Sausage Pasta) . I also tried a few new recipes… ones you will never hear about. They were ‘fine’ and by ‘fine’ I don’t mean ooh-la-la, I mean eh, adequate. And never to be repeated.

As you may know, I have a special list of default dinners. A list of favorite recipes made time and again in a pinch or for good reason. They are tested and approved, enjoyed and coveted by my family. Worthy of guests, worthwhile on weeknights, default dinners is our family list of best recipes. And I remain undiluted in my mission to find, maintain, expand and fine-tune this list.

This week was typical: make some proven familiar recipes to offset my search for new [default] recipes. This week, the two default dinners proved themselves delicious again, but the new recipes didn’t make the cut. One recipe was a quick rendition of pork paprikash, another was skillet broccoli, then there was the new salad dressing and that parsnip puree. All fine, but not worthy of our list of favorites. What WAS delightful this week was dessert.

My friend made me coconut macaroons for Christmas. I usually take it easy on both baking and eating sweets, but these cookies I ate standing up. I think by the third one I finally got myself a cup of coffee. Fortunately, I ate them in December so no New Year resolutions applied…

… And since my resolutions really don’t begin until February, I made them, and ate many of them, again. Maybe you should too— especially if your New Year resolutions wisely include eating dessert first:

Coconut Macaroons*
14 ounces sweetened shredded coconut
14 ounces sweetened condensed milk
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 extra-large egg whites, at room temperature
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F. Combine the coconut, condensed milk, and vanilla in a large bowl. Whip the egg whites and salt on high speed in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the whisk attachment until they make medium-firm peaks. Carefully fold the egg whites into the coconut mixture. Drop the batter onto sheet pans lined with parchment paper using either a 1 3/4-inch diameter ice cream scoop, or two teaspoons. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, until golden brown. Cool and serve.

*my friend and I both enjoy Barefoot Contessa, so when I asked her for the recipe, she just gave my a page number. We both agreed: these cookies are a bit persnickety. I highly recommend spraying the cookie sheet to avoid sticking; my friend waits for dry, cool weather…