Tim typically absconds to the opposite end of our kitchen/dining/living room on weeknights, lest he be squired to peel or dice. Weekends, he’s more easily greased with a glass of wine and happier to engage. That was the case a month or two ago when I was working on a story about mussels for the Washington Post, and we decided to steam a bunch of the bivalves one Saturday night. I grabbed the freshest-smelling bag I could find and figured I would just drop it in the crisper when I got home, like a couple of the chefs I’d consulted had advised.

Foiled!

Move over, wife, said my husband, who proceeded to prepare a bed for the mussels in a baking dish sheeted with damp paper towels. He made sure every little guy got a spot and then blanketed the batch with another wet paper towel, gently as he might have tucked his niece in for the night.

The mussels are alive, after all.

Yes, I knew that.

You want them to be comfortable until they hit the pan, he explained.

Um… OK.

When it was time to get dinner going, I stepped aside and watched Tim rinse and debeard each of the bivalves, dropping them into a big bowl of water so they’d expel any dirt they might have been hiding in their shells. Almost immediately, little bubbles popped on the surface of the water.

See, that’s the little guys breathing! he blurted.

Tim had never made mussels before, but they were always a favorite of his dad’s, and he apparently mastered the prep by watching his mom over the years.

As for the cooking? My job.

New York Times columnist Melissa Clark had just sent me a copy of her new book, “In the Kitchen With A Good Appetite,” and I was eager to try her Garlicky Steamed Mussels with Corn and Sherry. We loved it so much that a couple weeks later we decided to make her Ale-Steamed Mussels with Garlic and Mustard (both recipes are online exclusively on Plummelo.com).

I brought home that second bag, and because Tim wasn’t home, I babied the bivalves just as he’d done. A couple hours later, I learned my second lesson in less than a month.

Husband, I said as I pulled the mussels from the fridge, Time to debeard and separate the dead guys!

From the couch, Tim tossed me a look of confusion, as if, well, you know, what could I possibly need his help for, now that I knew the drill?

Note: For some basic tips about prepping and preparing mussels–an all-around cinch–this tip sheet I wrote for the Post will get you started. As for other mussels recipes, I’ve already got three more in my Plummelo recipe box for upcoming dinners. Help yourself to Mussels Steamed in Beer with Creme Fraiche, Herbs and Parmesan Croutons; Mussels in Saffron and White Wine Broth; Mussels with Saffron Cream.

Read more by Kristen Hinman

Kristen Hinman writes the column Swine Dining: A City Girl Cooks Country. She used to think the perfect weeknight dinner consisted of an omelette and a glass of wine. OK, she still does. Her husband, on the other hand? Not so much. Luckily, three years of recreational cooking school in Paris and a vast cookbook collection mean she’s never at a loss for ideas. Kristen is a journalist who has lingered in celebrity chefs’ kitchens, nosed over midwestern caviar houses and taken pigs to slaughter–all on the clock. She lives in St. Louis and Washington D.C. and is the winner of two James Beard Foundation Awards for newspaper writing. One day she will wallpaper her pantry with Gourmet magazine covers. Visit Kristen’s website. Photo by Michelle Hudgins.

What to do with all those apples? Here are some terrific ideas that go beyond the all American apple pie–some classic, some very fresh and inventive, all delicious.

Oh, and p.s.: There are no actual apples in a Caramel Apple Martini, but they sure do taste good after a day at the orchard!

Read more by Robin Horrigan

Robin Horrigan writes the column Cooking from the Carpool Lane. She lives on Boston’s south shore and is a stay at home Mom to Ryan, seven, and Maegan, three. Her fascination with cooking sprouted from watching Julia Child cook on a little black and white TV; Robin helped her Mom in the kitchen until she was old enough to ask Santa for her very own copy of The Joy of Cooking. She experiments with all kinds of cooking and baking, from quick weeknight dinners and easy cookies to long simmering weekend stews and complicated, fancy desserts. Ryan thinks if his Mom will ever be famous, it will be “for her awesome cookies.” Her friends say it will be for the cocktails. Either way, if she’s not doing volunteer work or shopping for shoes, you’ll probably find her in the kitchen. Robin’s favorite recipe.

Life in my social circle is one food related adventure after another, and this February has been no different. A few weeks back, a friend threw a pickle party, where everyone buys or makes their own pickled something or other. (I know: something about me draws in the culinary eccentricity. I’ve learned to embrace it.) I was smitten with the idea; themed food parties can be so fun!

When one ingredient, preparation process, or general theme is made universal, creativity and playfulness (two of my favorite elements in cooking) often come to the fore. For example, when the same friend moved out of her old apartment in August, she had a rather more racily themed “Skin and Bare It” party to beat the heat. All food needed to be able to be unwrapped or peeled in some way; ingredients ranged from pistachios to bananas to Fruit Roll-Ups. Interpretation is half the joy: at an egg party, for example, there’s custard, meringues, quiche of all stripes. And if you broaden things to encompass egg shaped foods, you’ve opened your doors for festivals of olives, kumquats, and jelly beans to come dancing through.

As friends rushed to find the most perfect gravlax recipe, or hunted down the platonic ideal of sake lee (a byproduct of the fermentation process) to cure small vegetables, I thought about what inspires me in food. Color, texture, and surprise were the answers I came up with–and with grey skies outside, I thought I might like a reminder that summer is coming back one day. Enter the pickled watermelon radish.

A derivative of daikon radishes, watermelon radishes are milder and not as spicy as their red-skinned cousins. When pickled, they take on a sweet, tangy taste that is at first at odds with their appearance (you expect a fruit to be lurking within those bright pink speckles), but gradually comes to win you over.

It was so exciting to see what everyone came up with. There were pickled sausages, pickled carrots, pickled peppers (not even close to a peck, though, by the time we were done). The aforementioned gravlax was a sincerely incredible capstone to the night; weeks later I’m still dreaming about it. And pickletinis, which had been threatened but (foolishly) not taken seriously by me, ended up being a surprise hit.

The guest who traveled farthest for the party, a preserving fanatic who came in from Northampton, brought something very special with her. It was pineapple, apple, and almond kimchi; the subtle complexity of tastes was lovely, and would be a great addition to the upcoming Greater Boston Kimchi Festival. And we’re off to the races again: another month, another odyssey of edible oddity. But it gets me sharing food with friends and keeps me smiling–and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I have discovered a great recipe for keeping the little ones busy and productive, while creating an easy and healthy lunch at the same time: make-your-own-pizza!

I got this idea from those highly desired prepackaged bento-box-style lunches.

Just throw some whole wheat pizza dough (homemade or store-bought) on each child’s plate, and them them poke and prod to make the dough somewhat flat (clean hands are a plus). Let them sauce up the dough using regular marinara or pizza sauce from a jar–or better yet, make your own. Then let them shower their creation with oodles of mozzarella (or whatever cheese the kids like), pepperoni, and–most importantly–veggies! I chopped up steamed broccoli, peas, and colorful strips of peppers ahead of time.

The easiest part? Pop it in a preheated 425 degree oven for only 5-7 minutes and the mini works of art are ready for consumption. A quick, easy, and healthy lunch that they got to make on their own… what else can you ask for in a meal?

Our kids had an awesome time making and eating them. They made a smiley face and other designs their imagination inspired. It was fun not only for the kids, but also for the mommies because of the easy prep. All of the ingredients were found at my local Trader Joe’s: my go-to place for quick and healthy ingredients. Try this activity the next time you host a play date for your kids. You will enjoy your little chefs’ creativity, really love that they are actually having fun and eating their veggies, and share quality time as their sous chef in the kitchen.

When I was invited to join the group, I had hesitations. Making dinner for a football team’s worth of people seemed daunting, and the initial outlay of money in ingredients was a bit stressful–cooking for myself meant that hefty grocery bills could be mentally amortized across a week or two. There were also the ideological considerations: all of us were vegetarians, but at the time I was much less adventurous than most. My friend Ray, while breathlessly encouraging me to jump onboard, rhapsodized about an entree based largely on tempeh they had all enjoyed the previous week; I felt myself subtly recoil. Tempeh?

Ultimately, the one incontrovertibly strong deciding factor that impelled me to say yes was my own need for connection. What drew me to the group initially–along with Ray and several other members of the group, both male and female–was the fact that it represented something all of us were craving. A healthier relationship with food, a familiar and beautiful ritual in the middle of days that often felt uncertain, the chance to nurture those you cared about when you previously hadn’t been sure you could even take care of yourself: dinner group offered our group of twenty- and thirty-somethings a chance to actively shape who we wanted to be as eaters and sharers of food.

The 12 friends split into 6 pairs and each duo cooked a dinner for the group once every 2 weeks. That was the simple part. I quickly learned to scale up my cooking for many people, plan menus to stretch ingredients, and cook multiple courses simultaneously on my two-burner studio apartment kitchenette. (The secret there is to constantly stay in motion; cooking becomes a kind of high speed, twirling ballet.)

What excited me most was the thrill of menu planning. While not overly competitive, I will admit that all of us quickly learned what each pair’s strong points were–and that we took pleasure in outdoing ourselves week after week. Over dinner, we’d talk about classes, our jobs, our hopes, and dreams. Sharing each other’s homes and tables night after night led to a desire to nurture each other–and also a desire to surprise.

One group excelled at inventive salads; another pair’s forte was exquisite Southern comfort food. Two others provided wonderful picnic-esque spreads (they were living on a boat at the time, so this was no surprise). My partner and I specialized in combining unusual, unexpected tastes.

For me, these often took the form of desserts–including the quirkily titled beeramisu, which has become a staple of mine. (Don’t let the name fool you; it’s a subtle and elegant dessert. I usually replace the stout with a fruity Belgian beer, like Lindemans Frambois Lambic or Peche.)

The experience of needing to pull food together quickly while keeping it fresh and exciting has become a signature part of my cooking style. Cooking for multiple people, while it can initially seem like a chore, becomes an incredible gift when what you’re doing is using food to make people think, or smile, or open up. I treasure what I learned about myself in that group, the capacity I discovered that I have to give.

My friend Dave (who I have actually known since before birth–our parents were in the same Lamaze class!) has been pestering me about doing just such a tasting for two years now and I have continually found excuses to delay.

Finally, he just went out and sent invitations to his friends and told me that he would forge ahead without me if need be. Apparently, this was the kick in the butt I needed! Within the hour, I had put together a list of seven sakes that represented an interesting diversity of the myriad styles available.

I chose a sparkling sake, a junmai ginjo, a junmai daiginjo, honjyozo, kimoto style, nigori, and a fruit-infused style. If this all sounds like jibberish to you, don’t worry. The internet is full of great resources to give you a basic Sake 101–or talk to your local fine wine shop–many are carrying a selection of sakes. I will admit that I didn’t know exactly what I was doing, but that’s how you learn, right?

So, sake taken care of, it was time to move on to the food. Dave is the king of dinner parties and smartly delegated shopping tasks to our motley crew so that no one would be overwhelmed. This was the perfect way to have everyone feel involved and dramatically reduced the amount of pressure on our shoulders. With strength in numbers, I knew we were ready to tackle the sushi hurdle!

When Saturday night rolled around, the kitchen was soon filled with people chopping, slicing, steaming, and sautéing. Just like with the shopping, everyone took up a task.

We snacked on pickled daikon, toasted seaweed, miso soup, and edamame, and before I knew it we had a sushi smorgasbord ready to go! There were platters of avocado, scallions, cucumbers, shitake mushrooms, tempura sweet potato, thin strips of omelette, salmon, tuna, and crispy salmon skin. To accent, there was a creamy spicy sauce, mango chutney, cream cheese, and wasabi.

We all teamed together to figure out how those simple looking rolling mats actually worked, and soon it was a maki assembly line! I was honestly amazed. It looked fantastic and tasted even better.

What exactly had I been worrying about all this time? As the sake and conversation flowed, all I could think was when could we do it again!

Let me first tell you about how Dan and I usually get our meal on the table. Many of our dinners are planned over email with subject lines like, “What’s for din din tonight?” With both of us toiling away at our respective jobs all day it can be hard to plan our meals in advance. In an ideal world, I would map out everything for the week on Sunday, but The Dan Factor can often work against this since he enjoys the spontaneity of deciding a meal the day of.

This is where our planning and shopping styles begin to diverge—but for the sake of love, let’s say our differences complement each other perfectly.

Our trips to the grocery store are often met with this same challenge: I have my list mapped out by aisle, and Dan is spur of the moment—finding inspiration in the endless options in the produce and meat aisles and spontaneously adding them to the cart. (I do confess, however, that some of his best meals have come from this approach; the pork butt for pulled pork was probably my favorite.)

As the baker in the duo, everything to me is mapped out in advance and I know that an exact amount of each ingredient will yield a cake, or a bread–I think of it as a science, so I need to be slightly more planning-oriented. But as the chef, Dan doesn’t need to follow a recipe and feels comfortable experimenting.

Both self-taught, by TV and an endless supply of foodie magazines, we have managed to master what most couples often fear: cooking together.

As we thought about what to make for this year’s dinner I was reminded of the first dinner Dan cooked for me. The menu was delivered in advance via email, and I still have it. We thought Valentine’s Day would be the perfect opportunity to re-create that meal.

In the dessert department, I decided to create a surprise dish for Dan and he had to guess the secret ingredient. For Valentine’s Day I had to go with a decadent chocolate treat. The molten cake’s secret ingredient? Espresso powder. I’m pleased to say, I stumped Dan on this one.

We’ve learned to cook together and share the triumphs and failures that go along with it. This Valentine’s Day dinner was a success, but I’m sure we’ll have some more obstacles in the kitchen. And whether the meal is planned a week in advance or on the spot we aim to make it as delicious as possible!

Don’t forget the Champagne and the romance. These are both key ingredients.

Photos by Melissa Devereaux

Girlfriends will find any excuse to get together. And what better way to spend a cold Saturday than with food and friends. In order to justify our absence from our husbands and kids, we decided we’d better find a way to benefit them as well.

And girlfriends trust each other. Girlfriends share their opinions about everything–recipes and food are no exception. Most women I know are always looking for their next batch of great recipes, so we decided to get together and test some out.

The ultimate goal was to come home with four meals to enjoy throughout the week (or stash in the freezer for a busy night).

We accomplished several things during our three hours together this weekend: quality time, trying new recipes, and preparing meals to take home for our families. Here is how it went.

I invited 5 girlfriends who, like me, are busy moms who are into cooking and trying new recipes but are short on time. Six people was the perfect size. The dads planned on staying home for some quality time with the little ones.

I looked through my recipes on Plummelo for a few important criteria: little to no cooking on prep day; highly freezeable; no more than about 10 ingredients each; and using relatively inexpensive ingredients. We narrowed it down to 4. We wanted to start out with an attainable goal.

I saved these 4 recipes to My Recipes on Plummelo and emailed them to my friends so they could save them into their recipe boxes as well. I put the recipes into My Plans and then into My Shopping List.

Here was the part where Plummelo really saved the day in this planning process: Once the recipes were in my shopping list, Plummelo adjusted the servings for me!

For 6 people, we needed everything times 6 (for a grand total of a lot of food). The recipe showed number of servings as 4, so I entered 24 (4 x 6), and the Plummelo shopping list automatically changed all the quantities for me (for example, 1 1/2 cups of ricotta became 9 cups of ricotta).

I then hit “Email Shopping List” on Plummelo and sent the combined list to my friends. We divvied up the shopping by section of the grocery store (which was also easy because the Plummelo shopping list is divided by category, such as Meat, Produce), and each went grocery shopping on our own schedule and planned to arrive with the assigned items.

One friend and I hit Costco for all the meat, and the others went on their respective treasure hunts. I was surprised at how little effort went into the shopping when we divided and conquered.

The day of, I packed it up the food and a few essentials (including my favorite knife), ready to take to the hosting friend’s house. We allowed 3 hours for our cooking adventure, with some time built in for girl talk and munching on freshly baked muffins.

We started out with the Chicken Marbella. One team of two trimmed the chicken thighs, another team minced garlic (of course, with the garlic gadget!), and another team measured spices, olives, capers, and prunes. In no time our chicken was marinating in the bowl, and we divided the massive quantity into 6 Ziploc freezer bags for each family to pull out on the designated night.

The routine went like this for the remaining recipes. Chopping and dicing, dividing and conquering (and washing some dishes in between). Meal prep is much more fun when it is organized in advance and shared with good friends. It’s also more fun digging into a huge bowl of ground turkey when wearing plastic gloves! We had a lot of laughs about food favorites and not-so-favorites, cooking blunders, and each other’s techniques, and fed each other bites of blueberry muffin while we worked. It didn’t seem like work at all.

It took us two and a half hours and $37.50 per family (that’s less than $10 per meal) to make 4 delicious meals that are ready for our loved ones to enjoy. Economies of scale definitely pay off!

Now we each have 4 new recipes in our repertoire and 4 new meals for the week. And after receiving a big thank you from more than one of the husbands, I know we have a hall pass for another girls’ afternoon out.

Try planning a cooking day with your friends. Let us know how it goes.