The Summer Comes Undone: Coconut Chocolate Popsicles

Everybody is at work or camp, except me, and I made coconut chocolate popsicles.

And yes, I ate two...

while I listened to this song, really loud, twice: The Summer - Yo La Tengo

Coconut Chocolate Popsicles
Makes 5 big popsicles

1 13.5-ounce can coconut milk (not low-fat, come on)
1 cup dark chocolate chips or chunks
1 tablespoon or more cocoa powder
1 tablespoon or more maple syrup
1/2 teaspoon vanilla

Heat coconut milk in a saucepan on medium heat until it bubbles a little. Add chocolate chips or chunks and whisk to melt and blend. Whisk in 1 tablespoon cocoa powder, 1 tablespoon maple syrup, and vanilla. Make sure it's all smooth and combined, turn off heat, and taste. Add more cocoa powder or maple syrup if you want.

Cool ten minutes or so, whisk again, pour into popsicle molds, and freeze at least four hours.

Save some for the others if you can.

That Summer Feeling: Coconut Milk Creamsicles

1. Summer has been busy, and we've had fewer cooking lessons, which has led me to a neat trick for getting kids to make food: put them absolutely in charge of something. I taught my oldest son Jonah how to make simple, no-knead bread and boom, he's bread man. In actuality he has yet to produce a single loaf on his own; he has a demanding summer job and, well, it's a little hot for baking, but if anybody in this family is going to make bread it will be Jonah. He owns bread.

Henry owns popsicles. I bought cheap rocket ship molds and handed them over. "I don't care what's in them," I told him, "just make sure we have a few popsicles in the freezer at all times."

It's been amazing. He's made orange/pomegranate/lemon juice popsicles, camomille tea with honey popsicles, root beer popsicles. He shows no signs of slowing.

2. It there any more perfect summer song than That Summer Feeling by Jonathan Richman? (Do you long for her or for the way you were?)

3. When did summer stop being stretched out, lazy, sweet, and become accelerated, jam-packed, intense? Out of my last eight summers, I have moved five times. Summers that didn't involve a move saw me starting a new job, leaving an old job, finishing grad school. Some years it was everything, all at once.

So here I am again, collecting boxes, raising dust, purging possessions. What do I even have anymore to rid myself of?

Thoreau:  Before we can adorn our houses with beautiful objects the walls must be stripped, and our lives must be stripped.

And here I am again, haunted by that summer feeling, longing for a day of loafing; the cool of the pond, the smell of the lawn. It looks like this year won't bring much loafing, but next year will be different. Next year, with God as my witness, I will reclaim summer. This year, I will at least have a creamsicle.

Coconut Milk Creamsicles
Makes six rockets

2/3 cup canned, full-fat coconut milk
1 1/4 cup orange juice (no pulp, unless you're into that kind of thing)
2 tablespoons maple syrup
1/2 teaspoon vanilla

Whisk ingredients together, pour into popsicle molds and freeze.

A Remembrance of Pizza Past: Spinach Ricotta Pizza

It was the most perfect and delicious piece of food I have ever eaten, a slice of spinach pizza with big globs of ricotta cheese, draped over my arm, funneled into my mouth as I walked down the street on a hot July night, after soundcheck and before a gig, the last one I would ever play (but I didn't know that, at the time) in New York. My friend Faith, walking next to me, was unfazed by my obscene outbursts of ecstasy, neither disturbed not surprised by my vehemence. "It's true," she said, when my language turned religious, "New York pizza is manna from Heaven."

Several years later I would find myself in Nottingham, England, stuck downtown after work and before an evening writing class, starving to death, craving spinach ricotta pizza. "I'll grab a slice somewhere," I thought, stupidly, forgetting what country I was in. I walked the streets in vain, finally landing in front of a travel agency where I stared at a poster of the New York skyline and wondered if my best plan would be to buy a plane ticket, fly to New York, and get a slice.

Of course what I really needed was a time machine.

And many more years later I find myself here, in an apartment in Evanston, another hot July night, on the edge of the second best pizza city in America, but further removed than ever from that two dollar dinner that I can't shake. My drumming days are over (in fact, my drums are for sale on eBay at this very moment) and lately I've been making pizza. I've made about ten spinach and ricottas in the past month. The recipe is evolving, getting better, getting closer, but it's like Zeno's Dichotomy Paradox (thanks, Henry) -- I'm moving toward a destination I will never reach.

Spinach Ricotta Pizza
Makes one 16-inch pizza (serves 3-4)

1 recipe pizza dough (I'm still really liking this one).
1 cup pizza sauce (homemade or store-bought, but make sure there's some oregano in there)
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
3 cups, loosely packed, baby spinach (or try a combination of spinach/arugula/basil)
2 cloves garlic, minced finely
2 1/2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese
1 scant cup ricotta cheese

Prepare pizza dough and set aside to rise.

If you're making homemade sauce, make it while the dough rises.

Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large skillet, add garlic and spinach and cook 1 minute or less, stirring constantly, until spinach is wilted. Strain and gently press out liquid. Set aside.

Preheat oven to 500. Oil 16-inch pizza pan. Press dough into pan. Brush with remaining tablespoon of olive oil.

Bake crust five minutes. Remove from oven. Spread sauce over crust (it will be a thin layer, that's what you want), spread spinach/garlic evenly on top of sauce and cover everything with mozzarella. Return to oven for five minutes.

Remove from oven, add ricotta, using a teaspoon to distribute globs evenly over the pizza. Return to oven for five more minutes.

Serve immediately. For best results, eat while walking down the street with people you love during one of the happiest weeks of your life.

Vegan Caramelized Onion Pizza

I've had periodic vegan stretches in my life, and these were not years notable for my enjoyment of pizza. No-cheese pizza is usually a depressing disappointment. But it doesn't have to be. It takes time (and thyme), but you can make an entirely vegan pizza that will leave nobody feeling the slightest bit deprived. Caramelized Onion Pizza is Henry's worst nightmare (he calls it "Ucky Slimy Bits Pizza), but to me it's a dream come true.

Vegan Caramelized Onion Pizza 
Makes a 16-inch pizza. Serves 4.

1 recipe pizza dough (try this one - you won't be sorry!)
4 tablespoons olive oil
4 pounds onions, sliced thin
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 bay leaves
1 teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon thyme
generous pinch black pepper
optional pinch cayenne pepper
7-ounce jar roasted red pepper, drained well and chopped
1/2 cup black olives, pitted and halved

Prepare pizza dough and set aside to rise.

Warm olive oil on medium heat in a deep skillet, add onions, garlic, bay leaves, and salt, and stir until it sizzles. Reduce heat to low, cover, and cook 50 minutes.

Preheat oven to 500.

Uncover onions, remove bay leaves, add thyme, pepper, and optional cayenne (and more salt if necessary), increase heat to medium and cook uncovered for 10 more minutes to brown onions and evaporate most of the liquid. Turn off heat and stir in red pepper and olives.

Press pizza dough into pan. Spread onion mixture on top, leaving a 1/2 inch border around the perimeter.

Bake for 15 minutes.

Let pizza cool a few minutes before slicing and serving. Try it with a cold glass of rosé.

Let Jake Eat Cake

Now for a short pause in the cooking lesson proceedings while we commemorate a slew of Lovesmiths milestones: Henry is graduating from 8th grade; Jonah, just home from his first year of college, landed his first job and will turn 19 in a few days; and Jake got tenure at Northwestern. We have been doing our fair share of celebrating, but things took a greater turn for the festive when our friend Dale Lawrence arrived up at our apartment last week bearing an Atomic Cake. I am an okay baker, but there is nothing I could make that approaches the gorgeousness, deliciousness, or outrageousness of this south side chocolate/banana/strawberry/vanilla/cream classic. I can't imagine a more appropriately celebratory slice of food.

The Quest for Super Thin and Truly Delicious Pizza Crust

The Quest for Super Thin and Truly Delicious Pizza Crust taught me as much as it taught Henry. I can't claim any amount of expertise in crust-making, so we have been figuring it out together, trying different recipes, and soliciting advice from friends.

We wanted thin, crisp, and flavorful. We also wanted whole grain, but our 100 percent whole-wheat flour attempt was too dense and heavy. A friend suggested using whole wheat pastry flour instead of regular whole wheat, and using it in combination with unbleached white flour. Bingo. I wanted a slightly sweet note, and a friend's recipe that called for honey inspired me to add a little maple syrup, just a little, and wow. Olive oil and a generous dose of salt rounded out the flavor.

When you start researching pizza crust, you quickly discover the millions of pizza stone advocates out there. They are convincing. They will make you believe that it is not possible to make a good pizza without a stone. I was sold, but when I priced pizza stones I changed my mind - I want to get one someday, but it's out of my budget right now. Instead, I bought this very cheap 16-inch pizza pan:

It works great! Don't let the pizza stone people deter you. But if you have one already, this recipe should translate well.

Pizza Crust
Enough for a 16-inch pizza.

2 cups flour (we like a blend of unbleached white and whole wheat pastry)
1 teaspoon instant yeast
1 teaspoon salt (or a little less if that scares you)
1 tablespoon maple syrup
1 tablespoon olive oil
3/4 cup warm water

You can do this by hand with a wooden spoon, or in a stand mixer.

In a large bowl, whisk together flour, yeast, and salt. In a small bowl, whisk together water, maple syrup, and olive oil.

Add water mixture to flour mixture and stir until everything is well combined. This will just take a few seconds in a mixer, a little longer if you're working by hand. Dust your hands and a clean surface lightly with flour, turn dough onto the surface, and knead briefly (1 minute or less) until it comes together into a smooth ball.

Oil a clean bowl, place the dough in it, cover with a towel, and set aside to rise for about an hour while you prepare your sauce and toppings. (sauce recipe and topping suggestions coming next week!)

Preheat oven to 500.

Lightly oil your pizza pan or do whatever you do with your fancy pizza stone.

When you're ready to bake:
Put the dough in the middle of the pan and press and stretch it, starting from the center and moving to the edges, until it covers the whole pan. Pinch around the edges to make a rim.

We got good results with pre-baking the crust before adding any sauce or toppings. I recommend that you bake the crust for 5 minutes, remove from the oven, add toppings quickly, and then return to the oven for 9 or 10 more minutes, for a total baking time of 14-15 minutes.

Mission accomplished!

Mission: Pizza

Henry wants to learn how to make pizza, which is not something I've mastered, so we are learning together. Attempt number one -  red sauce, arugula, and a little mozzarella on a whole wheat crust - was good, not great. We need a better crust recipe, and next time we need to stretch it all the way to the edge. We want thin crust, crispy crust, flavorful crust. If you have any tips or recipes, please share!

Mission not accomplished. To be continued next week. It's a tough job, but somebody's really got to.