Dinner last night was two days in the making, Craig Claiborne’s “Boeuf Bourguignon I” from Amanda Hesser’s The Essential New York Times Cook Book. Mike did the honors, lovingly prepping slices of bacon and Aquidneck Farm chuck, with bits of carrots, onions, shallots, mushrooms, and garlic, layering them in our Le Creuset, then anointing them with Cognac and rich red Burgundy wine. The whole thing cooked over high heat, then low, then it cooled and sat overnight before Mike brought the pot and its contents back up to temperature while I traveled home from work, also preparing some buttered and parsley-ed egg noodles to serve as a base for the rich stew.

We’ve cooked plenty of versions of this dish, but this was pretty spectacular, the meat coming apart in shreds beneath the tines of our forks, the sauce both light and concentrated. Buy the book, go to page 516, and make this dish, preferably a day before you plan to serve it. You’ll be happy you did.

Things have been quiet in this little corner of the Internet, but there has been plenty of cooking happening in our kitchen. I’ve skewed pretty heavily toward comfort food dinners of late, despite, or perhaps because of, my long workdays and the fact that a stubborn bug I thought I’d conquered has come back with a vengeance. The dishes that appeal to me these days are the culinary equivalent of a big chunky sweater, a fleece blanket, a roaring fire sending forth the earthy aroma of woodsmoke, something to force the chill from my bones and warm me to my toes. Braises and stews, creamy starchy sides, our enameled cast iron cookware has gotten a workout.

I wrote up a spin on Mario Batali’s “cacciatore” ages ago, and with a Pat’s Pastured Poulet Rouge in our fridge, one of many goodies we brought home from Saturday’s Wintertime Farmers’ Market, I decided a do-over was in order. There’s a bit of prep involved at the start, breaking down the bird, browning it in batches, soaking dried mushrooms and sautéing fresh, building layers of flavor in your pot, but once everything is in the oven with its parchment cap in place, you can kick back with a Negroni and enjoy the aromas wafting your way. Served over a creamy parmesan polenta, this is comfort food of the highest order.

You can get my recipe at food52.

I’m incredibly grateful to put September behind us and move forward. Dietschtoberfest is nearly upon us after all – time to plan for happier days.

By the way, it’s National Pizza Month, too, and Mike is embarking on another round of tweaking recipes in the quest for his perfect pie. This one was pretty fabulous. Stay tuned for more.

Happy weekend, and I hope it’s full of delicious things.

You might recall that I recently came up with a meatball recipe that we really love, but in the interest of changing things up a bit, I decided to try a different spin. The “Swedish meatballs” I grew up on were simply meatballs browned and then simmered in canned mushroom soup, and the grey and rainy weather we had this weekend got me craving just that sort of dish.

I haven’t bought canned soup in years, so I’d have to build the mushroom sauce from scratch, and I decided to swap out a few of the seasonings in the meatballs themselves to bring them more in line with a traditional Swedish-style meatball. I rolled them smaller, ending up with 36 orbs rather than the two dozen in my original recipe. I also decided to brown them in the oven rather than on the stovetop, a method that worked really well and a great option for those of you who are averse to frying.

Creamy and comforting, served atop a pile of buttered parsleyed egg noodles, these meatballs were just the thing to chase the chill away on Saturday evening. Held in a crock pot, I’d imagine these or my original red-sauced version would be a great dish to serve at a casual party or potluck.

Truly Tender Meatballs in Creamy Mushroom Sauce

1 cup soft fresh breadcrumbs
¼ to ½ cup milk
½ cup fresh ricotta, drained if very wet
1 large egg, lightly beaten
2-3 teaspoons Kosher salt
½ teaspoon each Colman’s mustard, ground allspice, ground white pepper, and freshly grated nutmeg
1 lb. ground beef
½ lb. ground pork

Preheat oven to 400.

Place the breadcrumbs in a bowl and moisten them with just enough milk to cover them, pressing gently. Remove the breadcrumbs from the milk, squeezing out the excess liquid, and add to a large mixing bowl. Add the egg to the bowl and beat lightly. Add the ricotta, salt, mustard, allspice, white pepper, and nutmeg and mix until well combined. Add the beef and pork and, with clean hands, mix gently until the ingredients are evenly incorporated.

Scoop or pinch off small amounts of the mixture and roll into meatballs, placing them on a foil-lined baking sheet. Bake at 400 degrees for 20-25 minutes.

Creamy Mushroom Sauce

1 oz. dried porcini + 2 cups boiling water
¼ cup unsalted butter
8 oz. fresh crimini mushrooms, trimmed and sliced
Kosher or sea salt
1 tablespoon unbleached all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons tamari
½ cup each heavy cream + crème fraiche (or sour cream)
½ cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley

Soak the porcini in the boiling water until very soft. When the mushrooms are soft, remove them from the liquid. Set the liquid aside and chop the mushrooms.

Melt the butter in a wide skillet until foaming, then add the porcini and crimini mushrooms. Season with salt and cook until golden brown, stirring occasionally. Add the flour and cook briefly until it no longer has a raw flour smell, then add the reserved mushroom soaking liquid, being careful to leave any grit behind. Add the tamari and bring just to a boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer. Add the meatballs to the sauce, stir in the heavy cream and crème fraiche or sour cream, and cook until reduced and thickened. Taste and adjust the seasoning, then add the parsley just before serving, reserving a bit to sprinkle on top.

My week so far has been hectic, both at home and at the office, and our last couple of dinners have reflected that. The weekend’s snowfall has led to bus snafus and train delays, making my long days even longer, and by the time I have gotten home at night, I’ve found myself in a mad rush to both get dinner on the table at a decent hour, and to finish cranking out edible holiday treats.

As most of our fresh food is earmarked for holiday meals, I’ve relied heavily on pantry staples for these last two dinners, and since we’ve been dialing back on meat in anticipation of the rich dishes we’ll be indulging in over the extended holiday weekend, I turned to mushrooms to lend a hearty bite.

On Monday, my latest incarnation of lentil soup got extra heft with a topping of roasted criminis, and brightness from a crumble of tangy fresh goat cheese.

The goat cheese came into play again last night, to both brighten and add a bit of creaminess to bowls of spaghetti tossed with one of my favorite old standbys, a rich mushroom ragu.

While these two meals made for a couple of very brown plates, they made for two very satisfying dinners, and this time of year, that’s good enough for me.

I honestly thought you had to live out west to get fresh bay leaves, so imagine my surprise when I saw them at our farmers’ market on Saturday. I grabbed some, of course, and then began thinking of ways to use them.

A few went into my Sunday ragu, of course, but the idea that kept popping into my head was to simmer them gently in cream. So that’s just what I did last night.

Melted butter, cream, a sprinkle of salt, and the bay leaves cooked together gently while I boiled a pot of water for pasta. I plucked out the leaves after dropping the pasta, then added a bit of grated cheese and let the sauce thicken. My just-cooked noodles got a bath in the bay-infused sauce, then I topped them with a scattering of roasted oyster mushrooms.

Not a bad dish, but I have bigger plans for this combination of flavors.

The last week and a half has been some rollercoaster ride, and once again I am grateful for those dinners I can practically put together on auto-pilot. Like risotto.

This one was enriched with lots of limited edition Butter Moon blue cheese from Narragansett Creamery, and topped with roasted Wishing Stone Farm oyster mushrooms (one of my favorite things). Simple, tasty, and on the table in about half an hour.

I swung through the Boston Public Market on my way to the train station yesterday evening with every intention of picking up a steak or some chops for dinner, but I stopped in my tracks when I saw the biggest clump of mushrooms I have ever seen in my life. Hen of the Woods, the cluster as big around as a watermelon, gorgeous in their otherworldly way. I had to have them.

I grabbed a sizeable chunk and a couple of ears of corn, bought a knob of chevre from another vendor and continued on home, a plan formulating in my head. I’d roast the mushrooms, tearing them and tossing them with a bit of olive oil and salt, letting the flavor concentrate and the edges crisp, and I’d serve them on top of a risotto, rich with goat cheese and studded with shallots and tarragon and sweet kernels of butter-fried corn.

It was a very good plan, and a very good meal. We didn’t even miss the meat.

I’ve had some version of a mushroom ragu in my repertoire for years now. It’s something that developed during my vegetarian years, and over time it has evolved with my tastes. At it’s most basic, it’s a combination of fresh and reconstituted dried mushrooms, sautéed with onion or shallot in olive oil, with herbs and a little blob of tomato paste added.

A splash of Sherry vinegar goes in for brightness, the strained liquid from soaking the dried mushrooms is added back, and the whole mixture is then cooked down to a saucy consistency – just how much is dependent on how I’m going to use it, because this is one dish that is very versatile.

A soupier version makes a great sauce for pasta, gnocchi or polenta; a slightly drier version is great stuffed into crepes; cook it down even more, so the mushrooms are just coated with a rich glaze, and you can mound it on slices of toasted or grilled bread for a snack or canapé – this is a standard at our parties, and it’s always a crowd pleaser.

It also lends itself well to variation – add a little butter to the olive oil for a richer flavor; swap in leeks, shallots, green garlic or scapes as the onion-y component. Change up the herbs depending on the season and what you have on hand – thyme, sage, marjoram, rosemary, flat-leaf parsley or summer savory all work well. Cepes or dried shiitake mushrooms are lower-priced alternatives to dried porcini, and they still provide a nice depth of flavor; likewise, plain white button mushrooms will serve just as well as fresh shiitake, oyster or wild mushrooms. Fresh or dried morels send it over the top, as does a judicious amount of cream cooked in at the end.

Last night’s version was largely shaped by things we brought home from the farmers’ market – a base of wild baby leeks, sautéed in olive oil until soft and aromatic, a generous amount of julienned purple sage added to season the mushrooms, and a big handful of chopped dulse stirred in and lightly toasted before the liquid was added. The dulse eventually melted into the sauce, imparting a lovely savoriness and velvety texture.

I used the sauce to dress farro spaghetti, which made for a dish that was very brown, but was earthy, hearty and delicious. Mike has tried many versions of this ragu over the years, and he said this was my best yet.

I had every intention of making lasagna last night. I’ve been craving a meat-free version for a while now, so my plan was to make a spinach and mushroom version, but I just didn’t have it in me to make the fresh pasta sheets, or a béchamel for that matter, when I got home from work.

Then I remembered these frilly noodles, which have been hanging out in the cupboard since we moved in (yes, they made the trip from New York with us). They were wide and flat-ish, sort of like the dry lasagna noodles you can buy in the store if you broke them into pieces. I suspected they’d be perfect, so I got a pot of water to boil and cooked them to al dente, then drained them while I finished working on the mushrooms.

To add a bit of creaminess to the spinach and mushroom mixture without making a cream sauce, I used a tub of Angelito, a fresh, creamy cheese with a nice bit of tang from Narragansett Creamery. This version had the added bonus of garlic and herbs.

I tossed my cooked pasta, spinach and mushrooms, and Angelito until well mixed, smoothed it into a buttered baking dish, and topped it with slices of fresh mozzarella (also from Narragansett Creamery), loading it into a 450 degree oven for 20 minutes or so, until it was browned and bubbly. This “broken lasagna” was every bit as satisfying as the real deal, and required a fraction of the effort – just what I needed on a Monday night.