​This matzo ball recipe proves you don’t need seltzer, baking powder, egg whites, or even a delicate touch to get great results. Eggs, matzo meal, broth, and schmaltz come together to produce tender, reliably fluffy dumplings.. Schmaltz (chicken fat) adds rich savoriness and that familiar comforting flavor, while dill and black pepper bring freshness and bite. When cookbook author Molly Baz was developing the recipe, she learned that giving the matzo ball mixture an adequate rest in the fridge and gently simmering the shaped dumplings were the keys to light, perfectly puffed matzo balls—no gimmicks, no tricks. Don’t worry about handling the mixture too much either; rolling the balls firmly into smooth spheres won’t make them dense.. This recipe was developed to go with BA’s Best Matzo Ball Soup.. Why do I need to chill the mixture? Resting the mixture for at least 35 minutes allows the matzo meal to absorb the liquid. The mixture will seem loose at first, but will firm up as it hydrates, helping the balls hold their shape and cook up light rather than dense.. Why cook matzo balls in salted water instead of soup? Matzo balls absorb the liquid they cook in like sponges. Simmering them in well-seasoned water gives them flavor while keeping your soup broth clear.. How salty should the cooking water be? Think pasta water: salty but not briny. If you’re sensitive to salt, you can reduce the amount slightly.. Why didn’t my matzo balls puff up? They need a gentle simmer and enough time to cook through. A rolling boil can toughen them—or worse, cause them to disintegrate. Keep the pot covered and cook for the full 30–40 minutes; removing the matzo balls early can leave the centers dense.. Can I substitute schmaltz? Yes. Neutral oil or light olive oil works if you don’t have schmaltz, though you’ll lose some of the classic chicken-y flavor. You could also swap in beef tallow for a meatier-tasting dumpling (best with beef broth).  

​What we love: Nutribullet might be best known for its personal smoothie blenders, but the brand recently debuted its full-size Power Core model with a whopping 72-oz. capacity and 1400 watts of peak power. The six-point stainless-steel blade effectively smoothed out leafy greens and chunky almonds, and I was able to get a creamy, cool, and ice-chunk-free smoothie out of it. Compared with the other top picks the pitcher is spacious, with a 72-oz. capacity, and I liked that the flat profile lid fit snugly inside like a plug. The whole assembly is only 17.5″ high, making it very countertop/cabinet friendly. Plus the pitcher and lid components are all dishwasher-safe (an exception to the rule I mentioned above for the Zwilling). All that for under $100 isn’t too shabby, especially if your blender only makes occasional appearances in your culinary repertoire.. What we’d leave: With only three speeds, your fine-tuning options are limited, and I was left with quite a few unblended bits flung around the top of the pitcher and into the nooks and crannies of the lid. The interface is a touch screen, which is always less desirable with wet or messy hands and occasionally took a couple presses to react. It’s a bit loud and whiny, but that’s also the norm with lower-priced blenders.. Speaking of the low price, there’s not much that feels especially premium, including the lightweight base that uses suction cups for stability (which in this case is a necessary feature to keep it from bouncing around), and the plastic pitcher, which we’d worry about dropping and cracking. Also, though I didn’t dock any points for this, it’s odd that Nutribullet didn’t opt to make this one compatible with its smoothie cups given its pedigree there.. Emma Jacobson. Back to the top. For more than half a decade other BA product testers and I have reviewed more than 35 full-size blenders (and dozens more personal and immersion blenders), giving them increasingly difficult assignments designed to weed out subpar models.  

​Skip to main content. Recipes. Photograph by Allie Holloway, food styling by Taneka Mooris.. You wake up on Easter Sunday ready to conquer the annual egg hunt, but first comes Easter brunch. Croissants, waffles, quiche, a sparkling wine cocktail: the kind of fuel you’ll need for the festivities ahead.. Easter dinner may bring braised leg of lamb and maple-roasted carrots, but brunch sets the tone for the day. It’s your excuse to eat fried eggs and chocolate before noon. Our best Easter brunch recipes (egg bakes, coffee cake, pancakes, and plenty of spring produce) will help you build the perfect holiday spread—and maybe reclaim that Egg King title your nephew stole from you last year.. Photo by Chelsie Craig, styling by Judy Mancini1/29. Eggs Benedict for a Crowd. With this Easter brunch recipe, you can poach the eggs in advance and let the hollandaise hold for an hour. That way, your guests enjoy perfect eggs Benedict and you stay sane.. Alex Lau2/29. BA’s Best Morning Buns. This makes 24 sticky, buttery, sugar-coated buns. Is that too many morning buns for your Easter brunch crew? Halve the recipe; it’ll work just as well.. Photo by Travis Rainey, Food Styling by Michelle Gatton, Prop Styling by Christine Keely3/29. Easter Salad. Crisp radishes, jammy eggs, and briny olives come together in this modern riff on egg salad. Think of it as the colorful, fresh counterpoint your Easter brunch spread needs alongside all that butter and bacon.. Photo by Travis Rainey, Food Styling by Luciana Lamboy, Prop Styling by Sean Dooley4/29. Ham-and-Cheese-Croissant Bake. Buttery store-bought pastry, smoky ham, and nutty Gruyère bake into a casserole that tastes like a ham-and-cheese croissant—just bigger, cheesier, and made for a crowd.. Photograph by Isa Zapata, Food Styling by Emilie Fosnocht, Prop Styling by Paola Andrea5/29. Sparkling Preserved Lemonade. Lemonade screams Easter—it’s Peeps-colored, after all (wink)—but it can get a little boring. This funky version gets its briny flavor from preserved lemons and its bubbly texture from bittersweet tonic water.. Photo by Chelsie Craig, Food Styling by Kate Buckens6/29. French Toast Casserole. This sweet, Easter-ready brunch casserole is the ultimate make-ahead breakfast recipe. Set it up the night before; all you’ll have to do in the morning is brush it with butter and bake.. Photograph by Isa Zapata, Food Styling by Spencer Richards, Prop Styling by Marina Bevilacqua7/29. Swiss Chard Pakora Pancake With Burst Tomatoes. Part pakora, part pancake, this chickpea-flour number is packed with Swiss chard and warming spices. It’s a savory, vegan-friendly addition to your Easter brunch table, delivering all the flavors of fresh pakora without the messy deep-frying.. Photograph by Doan Ly, Food Styling by Pearl Jones, Prop Styling by Christina Allen8/29. Dutch Baby With Maple Whipped Cream. This dramatic Dutch baby puffs high in the oven, then settles into a crisp-edged pancake with a soft, eggy  

​The year is 1998. I’m 5 years old, coming home from a half day of kindergarten. I’m sitting in my mom’s kitchen while she makes me a snack, probably something adorable, like ants on a log or Dinosaur Eggs oatmeal (IYKYK). This kitchen is my safe space, not just for time with family and good food, but for the vibes. It’s peak Chicken Kitchen nostalgia, replete with farmhouse finds in every corner: a green gingham tablecloth, frilly valences, a Longaberger basket filled with shiny red apples. My mother hates to bake, but I swear, walking into our old kitchen you’d expect to see a cartoon pie sitting on an open windowsill, cartoon squiggles wafting off to hungry passersby.. I’m 32 now, and all I yearn for is the ’90s Chicken Kitchen. A place to come together in total provincial bliss. A place for family dinners, for holiday traditions, for Reba McEntire on an old boom box. Country kitchens were comforting and cheerful, defined by their honeyed wood cabinetry and welcoming layouts. And, of course, their chickens—whether they were a stoneware hen or a rooster print, chickens were the moment. The ’90s Chicken Kitchen made guests feel like there was a basket of fresh eggs in the fridge waiting just for them that had been collected minutes before they arrived—even if you were 50 miles from the closest farm.. What I loved most about the Chicken Kitchen was how familiar it felt. Everyone had a Chicken Kitchen. As a shy, introverted kid, I’d walk into any of my friends’ houses and immediately feel at ease at the sight of a rooster or plump country goose.. Even if folks didn’t go full Chicken, the sentiment was there. I remember our neighbors across the street swapped roosters for cows: cow canisters, cow linens, a herd of cow figurines set high on a farmhouse shelf, ostensibly admiring these bovine trappings. Another classmate’s parents leaned hard into apples. They even had an apple-printed border framing their entire kitchen and dining room. Such dedication. Maybe our parents wanted to be farmers. Maybe they, too, yearned for simpler, more pastoral times. Or maybe they watched too much Paula Deen. I don’t know. But what I do know is that the ’90s Chicken Kitchen made me feel secure, welcome, and loved—the goal of any good family kitchen.. I miss the chickens. I miss the apples. I miss the whimsical geese wearing blue bonnets and ribbons around their necks. We’ve put our proverbial Chicken Kitchens out to pasture and replaced them with sterile, cookie-cutter blah: pretentious stainless-steel appliances that look like they came from a NASA lab. When I walk into a kitchen and the most colorful thing I see is a pastel Our Place pan, I am bored. And don’t give me “modern farmhouse”—I see right through your mason jars and reclaimed wood accents.. In the age of microtrends, my dream kitchen isn’t sleek or curated for Instagram—it’s a place to relax and connect, warmed in honey oak woodwork and buttery, yellow pai  

​For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a distaste for mayonnaise. There’s something about the texture, smell, and eggy flavor that I find unappealing. But that all changed during a recent crisis in Bon Appétit’s Test Kitchen, when I was introduced to a mayo that is so yummy, I could eat it straight from the jar.. I was about to test the best panini presses when I realized I didn’t have mayonnaise to spread on the outside of the bread of my grilled cheese sandwiches. (I prefer mayo over butter because it spreads easily straight from the fridge and has a higher smoke point, so bread turns an even golden brown instead of burning.) Thankfully, senior commerce editor Olivia Tarantino came to the rescue with jars of Graza’s Garlic Olive Oil Aioli and “Original” Olive Oil Mayo. I coated a few sandwiches with each, placed them in the presses, and waited. Suddenly, I noticed a wonderfully fragrant garlic smell that I thought was coming from the stoves of BA’s recipe testers who were cooking nearby.. Graza. “Garlic” Olive Oil Aioli. $10. Graza. “Whatever they’re making smells incredible,” I thought to myself. Then I realized it was me—or, rather, my aioli-coated sandwiches.. After removing the sandwiches from the presses, I tasted one made with each style of mayo. The original version produced a nicely toasted grilled cheese with perfectly melted American singles and a hint of tang on the bread. But the aioli version took that same grilled cheese to the next level and completely blew me away. It infused the toasted bread with a slightly lemony, sweet garlic flavor that was a perfect contrast to the creamy saltiness of the American cheese. This zesty mayo was so delicious, in fact, that I began slathering even more of it onto the finished sandwich. (More mayo? Who am I?)