Meet Marjoram, Oregano's Lusty Sister

I'll never forget the first time I met Marjoram, it was just about a year ago - I leaned in, caught a whiff of her gorgeous perfume and I could almost feel my dopamine drop, my pheromones release; there was no mistaking it - it was love or maybe it was simply lust.

I believe it was Mario Batali who once said that marjoram smells like a lusty woman. And who isn't captivated by a lusty woman? They're the best kind.

I don't know why but all this talk of lusty women suddenly makes me want to break into the song Brandy (You're a Fine Girl) by the Looking Glass...is anyone else out there getting that vibe?

Anyway, since then, I've been using every opportunity to use marjoram any way I can. She's a sweeter, sexier version of oregano and can be used in its place in just about everything.

Here's some simple uses for fresh marjoram to get you going:

Mince a tablespoon and toss on top of your pizza in place of oregano. Beautiful on top of a frittata or baked, poached and scrambled eggs. Season any tomato-based sauce with it or finish off a platter of grilled sausages with sauteed peppers and onions with a garnish of marjoram.

Switch up your rosemary and thyme and try roasting a chicken with marjoram:

Gently loosen the skin of a 3 1/2 to 4 lb. bird. Take some peeled garlic cloves and fresh marjoram and work them underneath the skin making sure to place over the breast and thigh areas. Season with lots of salt and pepper both inside and out. Set the oven to 400 degrees, place the bird in a snug roasting pan and follow these simple instructions: roast 20 minutes breast side up, 20 minutes breast side down, 20 more minutes breast side up.* Eat.

Marjoram's great tossed in fresh summer salads - particularly a good match with fresh tomatoes, beets and corn which are at their seasonal peaks right now.

Here's a simple salad to throw together after your visit to the farmers'market from Epicurious. Perfect for a quick lunch:

toss together in large bowl:

4 ears sweet corn cut off the cobb
3 medium tomatoes, chopped
2 tablespoons fresh marjoram, chopped
4 ounces crumbled sheep feta

whisk together and toss with salad:

1-2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

* rule of thumb instruction by Alice Waters from The Art of Simple Food

The Promise of Pizza

For way too long I denied my love of good pizza. It all had to do with some screwed up notions about which foods I considered to be healthy or unhealthy. Thank goodness I'm finally unshackled because I really love pizza. I truly believe when we deny the things we love the most that's when we create an unhealthy situation. It sets up a guaranteed, never-ending, self-punishing trigger. My advice? Be honest with yourself about your most fervent pleasures; own and revel in them. Give yourself permission to enjoy them from time to time and earn your own trust around them. That way, they cease to be your adversaries. Even better if you can replace the processed versions with real ones along the way.

I love a good, blistery, slightly chewy, thin crust pizza and lately, I've had this burning desire to learn how to make it from scratch. It's seriously daunting for me - I've never worked with yeast. Not to mention, there are so many pizza dough recipes out there making all kinds of promises, it's hard to know where to begin. So, for my first foray, I went with someone who has never let me down...Martha. The one, the only.

At the library, I picked up The Martha Stewart Living Cookbook: The New Classics and in it, there was a recipe for pizza dough. I followed it to the letter. After the second rise, I punched down the dough, turned it out onto my pastry board and cut in into six, equal-sized discs. I wrapped each one individually in plastic wrap and placed them in my fridge. I left for a few hours, came home and checked on the dough only to find that the Michelin Man had taken up residence in there! The dough had expanded yet again, so I peeled away the plastic, punched it back down, rolled it out, cut and wrapped it once more.

The thing I've neglected to share is that it was also my good friend's birthday that evening and she had come to rely on eating very well in my home, so there was a lot riding on this. I could feel the pressure mounting.

I had planned to grill the pizzas. Our first pizza, a classic Margherita - fresh tomatoes, basil and mozzarella - died a slow death on the grill because of my own incompetence - I forgot to properly oil the dough and added the toppings before their time. However, there were pieces of the dough that tasted like the charred, chewy and smoky hardwood flavor I was going for which, gave me hope. I decided not to take a chance and blow the next pizza so I popped it in the oven. This one was an homage to a pizza I'd had at my favorite Chicago restaurant, Avec. Thinly shaved beets, arugula, marjoram, Manchego cheese and Nicoise olives. The toppings were stellar but the crust, honestly, had little flavor. But with enough wine, laughter and open air we managed to still enjoy it.

I declare that I am making a commitment right here and now to master pizza-making. There will be ongoing posts until I get it right. Until it meets my very high standards. Until I become fluent in the language and the feel of it. Until I can imagine that Martha's coming for lunch, and know without a doubt, she's going to be absolutely blown away.