Kitchen Reform Tip 15: Power saver

When I turned 30, my boyfriend bought me a palm sander. Friends of ours told him that was not romantic enough, so he bought me something lacy and black as well.

He needn't have bothered. I have no aversion to practical gifts. (To any gifts at all, just an aside.) And in fact, while I no longer have that boyfriend or said lacy garment, all these years later, I still have that palm sander. And believe me, I cannot fathom life without it.

Sometimes, you don't know what you're missing until it knocks on your door.

There will be people who, upon reading this, will feel the need, however subconscious, to say I told you so. Their urge is well-founded. Last summer, when our whole neighborhood went on a Vitamix spree, I turned up my nose. I wasn't here, and it was easy from afar to tar emails of their ravings over a -- dare I now say it - a blender, as the musings of lunatics. It was so expensive, and how could it possibly be that much better? What could it do that my Ninja couldn't?

My Ninja gave up the ghost soon after, but still I resisted. We had two other blenders, for some reason, and I darn well wasn't going to add to the general clutter of my pantry or the earth by purchasing another single function appliance. Especially not for $500.

Then, for Mother's Day, I received a Vitamix. And let me tell you, I put it right up there on my list of life changers. My husband. My son. Glee. Actually maybe higher than Glee.

I needn't have  worried about it being a one-trick pony: in the week since I have had it, I have made soup, sauce, smoothies, pancakes, slushies, milkshakes -- and we were even gone half of the week. It was particularly good timing, as my son is losing his first tooth, as he will tell you often, and can't eat.

For those uninitiated, the Vitamix, well, here's what they say about themselves, which as a journalist is lazy but I would just like to get on with the recipe: "The Vitamix machine is not a blender or a juice extractor. It's so much more. The surgical stainless steel blades rotate at 240 miles per hour, pulverizing whole foods down to the cellular level. Valuable nutrients locked inside the pulp, skins and seeds of fruits and vegetables cannot be absorbed because the phytonutrients are trapped within plant cells which need to be ruptured. The Vitamix machine ruptures the cell walls of fresh, whole foods to make these phytonutrients more bio-available."

More bio-available? Can't argue with that.

Raw Thai Ginger "Noodles"

4 medium zucchini

1/2 cup chopped cilantro

1 cup chopped mint

1/2 bunch of spring onion

For dressing:

1/2 cup coconut, rice or cider vinegar

1 teaspoon sesame oil

2 Tablespoons Tamari or soy sauce

1 knob Thai ginger, or galangal, peeled

3 stalks lemongrass, bulbs and 2 inches of stalk

3 cloves garlic, peeled

1/2 lemon

salt to taste

Galangal, or as I found it, Thai ginger, is not the same as actual ginger, though it does come in a root similarly. It has a pleasant, pine aroma and its aftertaste is far hotter than ginger, though its actual flavor is more mild. I can't imagine how I would have dealt with it without the Vitamix, but am nearly sure it would have drawn blood.

Julienne the zucchini into "noodles" and combine with chopped spring onion and herbs. Put dressing ingredients into Vitamix and pulverize. If the sauce is too thick, thin with more vinegar. Toss together.

Garnish with sesame seeds, if desired.

Enjoy!

Spring Suprise

"You have to be humble. Confident, but not cocky. You cannot expect to find them or they will not reveal themselves," says my friend Amy, as we plow up a hillside of thicket, after sliding through a muddy creek, slipping through a barbed wire fence, and climbing over fallen trees wider than we could straddle. Our pants are tucked in our socks against ticks and poison ivy, we grasp knives and paper lunch bags.

She is talking about mushrooms. We are mothers, writers, gardeners and daughters. But today, we are singing to the morels, hoping for a glimpse.

I cannot tell you where we were. We swore each other to secrecy. I can only tell you, there was a stand of poplar, and fragrant spicebush in the under story. Poison ivy, spring beauty, dead elms, may apple and fiddle heads are other clues. Oh, and an east facing slope, with a good shade canopy. Too rocky, or too much dead wood is a non-starter. As we climbed Amy sang -- "Morels, reveal your selves...."

It was a labor of love for two of us, and for me, a journalistic opportunity. But it didn't stay that way for long. As we trudged through the mud, spotting one morel, then another (they appear in twos, as if finding one makes you worthy to find another. Boy, was I drinking the Kool Aid). I began to crave sighting the small, fragile, brainlike fungus. We left reluctantly that day, hoping that the mother lode was just coming in. Plus, the mother in us was needed -- it was school pick up time.

Can you see it?

So we went home with our mushrooms. I cooked them, with asparagus from my garden, salt and fresh butter. I was positively besotted. I don't use that word lightly.

When we were on our honeymoon, we drove from the Amalfi Coast, in Italy, to Umbria, arriving at our hotel just before midnight. (One cannot, after all, drive by the sea without climbing into it). They served us dinner in a marble courtyard lined with olive trees, and despite the fact that it was Italy, we were all alone due to the time. In the candlelight we ordered dinner, and when it came there was a predominant taste I struggled to identify. 

Over the next few days I found out it was truffle. In the vegetables, on the meat, in eggs, cheese, even gelato. Everything that said tartufi, I ordered. On our last weekend, we dined at Taverna del Lupo, in Gubbio, because we had heard everything was infused with truffle. When we came back, I was desperate for it. So desperate we flew to the restaurant Sistina, in New York, near my parents apartment, because I knew they had the whole truffle to shave over my pasta.

But nothing quite measured up to those local truffles. Until these morels.

the bigfoot morel

After that dinner I started thinking about the hillside. About the delicate mushrooms poking themselves through the leaf blanket. Later that night it rained, and I wondered if they enjoyed it or not. I dreamt about their earthy taste, sauteed in butter.

Morels sauteed in butter

one tablespoon butter
one dozen small morels
one garlic, peeled and sliced
slivered parmesan cheese
sea salt

Heat butter in skillet. add salt to sizzle. toast garlic until softening and golden. Add morels and stir two minutes -- then off the heat.

Boil the asparagus until tender, about ten minutes depending on the thickness of it -- test doneness by poking with a knife -- it should give softly.

Pour morels and butter over asparagus.

Prepare to swoon.

Sante.

Tip Eleven: Go with your Gut

This week, my child's school is having "No TV Week." Each child that eschews the electronic monster, writes a statement to that effect and turns it into the powers that be will get an ice cream cone.
My child doesn't watch TV during the week anyway (he has boundary issues, so we just don't deal with it), so for him this is a no-brainer. I'd love it if it the reward were something more healthy, but I guess carrots might not incite the same level of participation.

But it got me thinking. We've been concentrating here on adding -- fish, water, vegetables, what have you -- and yet being virtuous nearly always means you have to give something up. And generally something you care deeply about.

For me this would be cashews. I've admitted that before. And lately I've taken to roasting them with Macadamia nuts and walnuts, which makes them three times as addictive. But cashews aren't technically bad for you --  just not so easy to digest. Then I thought -- a whole week of easy on the tummy. How would that look? So I am going to give up meat this week.  And sugar, which I am stretching to involve dairy, and wine.

This will be a week of whole foods, water and rest. Green smoothies for breakfast. Salads and soups for later. And at the end, I will get an ice cream cone. Just kidding. (Though I am going to a camp out and steak dinner this weekend. By then, I either shouldn't care too much about meat, or I will eat a whole cow solo. I'll let you know.)

For now, though, this tasted good. I substituted thick, juicy chunks of pineapple for meat over a base of watercress and arugula, chip chopped vegetables (asparagus, cucumber, tomato) and herbs (mint, cilantro), and squirted it with tangerine-fig balsamic, which was syrupy smooth without the added sugar of dressing. Vinegar also has the benefit of aiding in digestion -- its acid binds to toxins and help eliminate them more efficiently.

Happy Monday, gut.

Salmon and Socca

Yesterday, just as I was thinking that I was totally uninspired to make dinner, I got a call from a friend asking for chickpea flour.

I just happened to have some.

Socca, she said. Have you made it?

And why else would I have chickpea flour?

Socca is a pancake, nutty, thicker than a crepe and yet somehow more delicate. Gluten free, egg free, dairy free, it is an allergists dream. It's also easy, once you have the chickpea flour, and quick. The batter is more forgiving than crepe batter, and the pancake -- it's traditional street food in Southern France and Italy -- meant to be cut in triangles and eaten scattered with pepper.

As someone who rarely gets pasta, or bread, or a pizza, however, I tend to use food of this nature as a conveyance. It's highly personal. When I first read a recipe for it, by Mark Bittman, I topped it with everything. Shrimp, rosemary, a drizzle of walnut oil...my tastebuds remembered.

I just happened to have some leftover salmon, and made a bit of saag with broccoli rabe and spinach. It all married quite well. In fact, it marched down the aisle on its own.

Socca

1 cup chickpea flour
1 cup water
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper

Mix ingredients and let sit at least 30 minutes. Heat a griddle or medium skillet until hot and swipe with ghee or butter. Pour in a half cup of batter and swirl until it covers the bottom, pouring out the excess. Cook over medium high heat until light gold, about 3 minutes, then flip and brown the other side. Keep warm until done. Load with salmon, tomato and asparagus, drizzle with sea salt and asparagus and broil for five minutes, until warm.

Or, cut in triangles and dip into green saag, below.

Green Saag

4 cloves of garlic, peeled
2 inch knob of ginger. peeled
1 bunch broccoli rabe
2 handfuls of spinach
sea salt
olive oil

Finely chop garlic and ginger in a food processor and set aside. Boil water with salt sprinkled in, add broccoli rabe and boil two minutes. Add spinach and wilt an additional 30 seconds. Drain in a colander and then process in food processor. Heat a tablespoon of oil and saute ginger and garlic until limp. Add the processed broccoli rabe and spinach and stir until heated through. Serve warm.

Enjoy!

Basil, Brown Sugar and Peaches

So just writing that makes my mouth water. Two things we have in abundance just now, that I might not have thought to put together only I was looking for a recipe to adopt for the Adopt a GF blogger event and saw this on Shauna's site, Gluten-Free Girl and the Chef. Seems she loves the Wednesday NYT almost as much as we do around here: this one originated there. I think it is a beautiful thing that these recipes get new life and sometimes new tricks when they are spun up for another time around on the web, though this one needs no spinning at all to be absolutely fabulous. Just look!

Peaches Roasted with Brown Sugar and Basil

3 Tablespoons of unsalted butter, softened 
3 Tablespoons dark brown sugar
2 teaspoons chopped fresh basil
pinch of cinnamon
pinch of salt
4 ripe peaches, halved and pitted

Preheat oven to 425 degrees.
In a small bowl, mash together butter, sugar, basil, cinnamon and salt. Spoon mixture into cavities of peaches.
Bake until the peaches are soft and butter is bubbling, about 15 minutes.


Thanks Shauna.


Enjoy!

The Redcoats are here!

Memorial day holds different connotations for everyone. Servicemen and their families think about fallen soldiers. If you live in the DC area, it's hard not to miss Rolling Thunder, 400,000 motorcyclists converging on the Pentagon to demonstrate support for POWs.  My extended family in Indiana is consumed by the Indianapolis 500, and several high school graduations. Stores stock shelves with charcoal and franks for summer's first cookouts. Pools open, and America dives in.

Since we bought this place, Memorial Day has become labor day, because in come the cherries. When you see them, flush and red on the tree, it is time to get out the ladder before the birds notice. This year, there were so many that I drove the pickup under the laden boughs and we stood on its roof with bowls like ants at a picnic.

It is like this with live charges. When they call, or ripen, or fall sick, you must answer. I have been trying to talk to a farmer friend, and between her breeding pig, my sick child and picking the cherries, we missed each other for a whole week.

But it is worth it. We sit and talk and pit the cherries, some of us using actual metal cherry pitters, others using tent stakes or lobster scrapers. My 5-year-old counts the pits as they plop into the bowl, proving that he actually can count into the thousands (he quit at 1,229). We eat them until our tummies are sore, then we freeze them on cookie sheets overnight before their final freezer storage in plastic bags.

But first we make dessert. For me that means clafoutis, an eggy, gluten-free, cherry studded flan. Cherry pie, cherry jam, cherry almond sauce on vanilla ice cream. For my husband, it means marinating them in Luxardo for plopping into his perfect Manhattans.

Cherry Clafoutis

adapted from Nigella Lawson

2 teaspoons oil (I use avocado or grapeseed oil, both of which hold up well in high heat, but if you can tolerate vegetable it is a less expensive option)
2 cups cherries, pitted
4 eggs
1/2 cup rice flour
3 Tablespoons sugar
1 1/4 cup milk or sub 1/4 cup cherry juice or kirsch for 1/4 cup milk

Heat oven to 450 degrees. Put oil in a pie plate or copper tarte tatin dish and pop it in while the oven heats. Meanwhile, mix flour and sugar, then whisk in the eggs, one by one, then the milk and other liquid, if using. When the oven reaches 450 degrees, stir the drained cherries into the batter and pour into the hot pan. Return to oven and bake about 20 minutes, or until puffy and golden.

Make this at the last minute and bring it piping hot to the table with some fresh whip cream -- depending on how well you know your dinner guests, you may just need forks. Bet you won't have any leftovers.

Home Made Maraschino Cherries

from the New York Times

1 cup maraschino liqueur
1 pint sour cherries, stemmed and pitted (or substitute one 24-ounce jar sour cherries in light syrup, drained).
Bring maraschino liqueur to a simmer in a small pot. Turn off heat and add cherries. Let mixture cool, then store in a jar in refrigerator for at least 2 days before using, and up to several months, if you can keep them around that long.
Yield: About 1 pint.

Cherry Almond Sauce

3 Tablespoons brown sugar
4 teaspoons cornstarch
1 teaspoon almond extract
1 cup water
1 quart pitted cherries

Stir together in a saucepan over medium heat. Cook and stir until the cherries break down into a sauce, about 30 minutes. Spoon over ice cream, or serve as a side to ham or pork.

Have your cake and eat it too

So tonight, we are invited to a loser's party. This is not a small event. Our community has a tennis tournament in the winter months, to blast away the doldrums. Anyone can play -- but here's the rub: the better you are, the less skilled your assigned partner will be. This makes for interesting tennis (think, Roger Federer teamed with Phyllis Diller), and as we get towards the finals, big crowds at the tennis court, drinking, betting, cheering.

The invite to this party reads as follows: "Calling all losers! All losers welcome! All potential losers welcome! All winners married to losers welcome!" (For the record, I am not a loser. My partner pulled her calf muscle during our second round match and we had to forfeit. In fact, though we were down a set, we were coming back. That will always be the legend.)

But as I am married to a loser, we will go.

Our hostess delineates potluck responsibilities as follows: If your name starts with A-M, bring an appetizer and cheer. We, with our R and our S, fall into dessert and cheer. My husband requested a replay of a cake that I made last week to send to my step-daughter at college. It is not a "real" cake, so I didn't post it here, but it certainly was something to see, with several tons of glittery sprinkles dumped on it by two enthusiastic 5-year-olds. I am sorry I do not have a picture. Suffice to say, that it didn't last long at all. Even my foodie pals scarfed it down in the car on the way home.

To be frank, for a loser's party sugar seems just the ticket. Plus, I was thinking about some interesting factoids that a friend sent me yesterday, courtesy of Foodlinks America. On January 14, the top trends  for 2010, predicted by chefs surveyed by the National Restaurant Association, were leaked. Demand for local produce was number one, followed by locally sourced meats and local beer and wine,  respectively. Bite-size mini dishes and half-portions followed, along with healthy kid's plates. Sustainability was up there too.

Sounds perfect. My work here is done.

Except the same newsletter from December 14, just a month ago, details top-selling grocery items of 2009. Soda tops the list, with $12 billion in sales in 2009. Milk is second, then bread and rolls, beer, potato chips, cheese, frozen dinners, cold cereal, wine and cigarettes.

So what's going on? We're going out and demanding raw cheese on our arugula, then coming home to light up, crack a brew and nuke dinner? Is the intersection of consumers and chefs only in the local beer aisle?

Because that makes us all losers. Or maybe we just haven't won yet. What if we could have our cake and eat it too: what happens if I try to make this cake "real?" Or at least, "natural?"

Let's be clear, this cake starts with a stick of butter and a cake mix, and ends with an entire bag of powdered sugar. Just typing that makes my teeth hurt. (The pre-school class went to the dentist this week, and sang him this song: "Brush, brush, brush your teeth, every time you eat. Visit your dentist twice a year for a smile that can't be beat." It even has hand motions which they do with real toothbrushes. I am sure he would have flunked the field trip if they knew about this cake.) Now I don't think I can make it any less sweet -- nor would I want to -- but I set out to see what would happen if I substituted all these ingredients with organic, whole ingredients. And made it gluten free.

(You can check out the original cake recipe, which I got from my Aunt Alice but is also online in detail like crazy at http://2sistersandme.blogspot.com/2007/12/sugar-cream-cake-another-cozy-comfort.html. This is a blog written by sisters in Winchester, Indiana, just miles south of the small town both my parents grew up in, and where my Aunt Alice still lives.) 

So I got a gluten free cake mix, and organic butter and cream cheese, and am using Mary Dunbar's eggs. I can't find a sub for the powdered sugar, so that will remain conventional. Here's what happened: it was beautiful. High and light, with a crackly spun sugar top like creme brulee. Okay, sort of. It's not too real. But it sure is good. More sophisticated, more complex, less sugary sweet than the first. A cakier base, with the cream cheese topping oozing gooey beneath the sugar crackle. Of course it didn't have three tons of sugar decorations on it but I think it's more than that. It's still the Midwest, but it's dressed for dinner.

Yum.

Loser Cake
Adapted from Alice Strohl

Preheat oven to 375 degrees

1 yellow cake mix ( I used gluten-free pantry)
3 eggs
1 stick melted butter

1 box powdered sugar
1 package cream cheese

Beat 2 eggs with a fork in 9 x 13 pan. Add cake mix and butter and stir to combine. Spread to evenly coat pan. In a separate bowl, beat sugar cream cheese and remaining egg for 5 minutes with mixer on medium. Do not use a stand mixer as the sugar will not combine. Spread over cake dough. Bake 30 minutes.

The losers will love it.

Enjoy.