tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30282082497916431652024-03-05T03:55:50.234-08:00@ Home with Real FoodHere’s the secret: Buy real food. Prepare it simply. Eat it up.
Real people do it.Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.comBlogger98125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-31580161037773682682012-11-06T10:08:00.001-08:002012-11-06T10:53:05.486-08:00Hurricane SaladJust before Sandy hit us full strength, I went out to the garden to pick some fresh produce in case we were inside for a bit. The wind stole my hat twice, and stirred the lettuces and herbs into a mixed Sandy salad even before I could pick them, entangling the delicate new leaves into nearly inseparable clumps. It was an experience akin to what Dorothy might have had, if she stopped to bale some hay and not proceeded straight away to Professor Marvel's trailer.<br />
<br />
I picked more than I needed, not knowing how the fragile vegetables would fare when the real winds picked up, and brought them in. They were younger than I might have otherwise harvested them, small, tidy leaves still succulent with youth. <br />
<br />
As with most cooking you do with superior ingredients, vegetables fresh from the garden don't need much -- a drizzle of olive oil here, a dash of toasted sesame seeds there. The trek to the garden was the most arduous part of the whole affair. (Disclaimer: asparagus was not my own, but a fine snag from the local IGA, grown in someone else's yard.)<br />
<br />
Stuck in by the fire as our house kept the howling wind just beyond
reach, I cleaned and chopped and cooked a greener than green dinner,
baby bok choy, tiny radishes, salad -- nearly two days without power, cats and dogs and kids underfoot. Though I didn't understand it when I braved the wind to gather them, this fall festival of greens not just sustained us, but reminded us: a
glimmer of hope the rain would stop, wind might abate, and the greens, resilient, would again spring from the earth and nourish us.<br />
<br />
Our thoughts are with all who have lingering trouble from the hurricane.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmguguAZaaIuDUaS-m6BbKORTTAtFFmb0mjqGSzsGRiMYeknb3qjl5NemlxjUNKBAdh9Q11IbC0aCxbtPmPHnVHJjisKbQT0DSxeP0HahvAVtItKOxPDvBYyp69vxBfFFWK8PF188SBGSG/s1600/radish+jar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmguguAZaaIuDUaS-m6BbKORTTAtFFmb0mjqGSzsGRiMYeknb3qjl5NemlxjUNKBAdh9Q11IbC0aCxbtPmPHnVHJjisKbQT0DSxeP0HahvAVtItKOxPDvBYyp69vxBfFFWK8PF188SBGSG/s320/radish+jar.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="color: red;">Radish Jar</span><br />
<br />
Pick small radishes with stems and leaves still attached. Clean if necessary and put in water in a clear jar or glass. Serve with coarse salt.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPaXsqOwxSADdqsWYV2tw-p1i3WF7UkUULGDP06JDC-hJ0HyomZR6x6-aXLIavu1PoDCllRU9sezPoSmmInjTut4_AIQOLutmJRVuW6wR08m0kPKp1hGl_lYA-Oux20hgtkQZBnjzt34vK/s1600/mix+salad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPaXsqOwxSADdqsWYV2tw-p1i3WF7UkUULGDP06JDC-hJ0HyomZR6x6-aXLIavu1PoDCllRU9sezPoSmmInjTut4_AIQOLutmJRVuW6wR08m0kPKp1hGl_lYA-Oux20hgtkQZBnjzt34vK/s320/mix+salad.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="color: red;">Mixed Salad</span><br />
I do this with whatever greens are on hand, chopping herbs and churning them in. A sprinkling of nuts, grated cheese, drizzle of nice vinegar and/or oil, and you've got it made. This one happens to be:<br />
<br />
4 cups torn greens (frisee, arugula, cress, mesclun)<br />
3 Tablespoons chopped herbs (mint, cilantro)<br />
1/2 cup toasted walnuts<br />
1/4 cup grated queso<br />
pinch coarse salt<br />
drizzle of Persian Lime olive oil<br />
drizzle of Pomegranate vinegar<br />
<br />
<br />
Toss together, serve.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHQ5coQK1GFsdLb-wuqNZ0YmNH7zoeui6y_1CDjgg2YVhr31RNe5naDkAt07kaK5KSzdtNHxVBQKnxmprdwFnhsm1zfpDvkSXCC6ezZ2M5-kliYCJgw0Gdjw-sfy-IEb_4P94NrntD2m0U/s1600/bokchoi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHQ5coQK1GFsdLb-wuqNZ0YmNH7zoeui6y_1CDjgg2YVhr31RNe5naDkAt07kaK5KSzdtNHxVBQKnxmprdwFnhsm1zfpDvkSXCC6ezZ2M5-kliYCJgw0Gdjw-sfy-IEb_4P94NrntD2m0U/s320/bokchoi.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="color: red;">Sauteed Baby Bok Choy with Ginger and Garlic</span><br />
<br />
1 teaspoon coconut oil<br />
1 Tablespoon grated ginger<br />
6 cups baby Bok Choy, sliced 2 inches thick<br />
4 cloves garlic, slivered<br />
toasted sesame seeds<br />
<br />
Heat oil in a medium skillet over high heat. Turn heat to medium and add garlic, stirring until translucent. Add ginger and a pinch of coarse salt, stir together.<br />
<br />
Add bok choi and stir until combined, Cover and let heat through, just until greens are wilted, about 5 minutes. Garnish with sesame seeds.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcacb1H59YKGQ8GxgB59X4y3YhyphenhyphenppfWx1vK6r6SzqkCLuFoZ-fRF3GF-RnrRggaDhFMUy6viG9Wqb_67kI5xi6kQSy04EuLZ1b0dCk1QOWwFryxx8zY4xaqsqWP6-iAOg1d-LIYjVwBC9D/s1600/asparagus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcacb1H59YKGQ8GxgB59X4y3YhyphenhyphenppfWx1vK6r6SzqkCLuFoZ-fRF3GF-RnrRggaDhFMUy6viG9Wqb_67kI5xi6kQSy04EuLZ1b0dCk1QOWwFryxx8zY4xaqsqWP6-iAOg1d-LIYjVwBC9D/s320/asparagus.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: red;">Steamed Asparagus with Egg and Lemon Zest</span><br />
<br />
2 bunches asparagus, woody ends removed<br />
2 eggs, hard boiled<br />
Zest of one lemon<br />
coarse salt<br />
<br />
Prepare a large skillet halfway filled with water. Heat until water boils.<br />
<br />
Add asparagus and cook until just tender -- time will vary depending on the thickness of asparagus, but stalk should be crisp, just wilted. Strain water.<br />
<br />
Transfer to serving platter. Grate egg over the top, then grate the lemon zest over that and add a pinch of coarse salt. Serve.<br />
<br />
<br />
Enjoy!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-74473276601609963562012-10-11T07:52:00.000-07:002012-10-11T07:52:09.247-07:00Cauliflower as big as your headOnce, while visiting my friend Sandra in Milwaukee, near the University of Wisconsin, we saw a restaurant advertising Burritos as Big as Your Head. As I was young, poor and a lover of greasy food, this seemed attractive at the time. Now I am not so sure.<br />
<br />
Cauliflower as big as your head, though, which is what Wegmans was selling (2 for $5!) last week, is mighty appealing. Women who did not know each other stood around the cauliflower bin in their Lululemon capris, talking about what the heck to do with such a big vegetable. (What I wondered was how in criminey it got that big, but that is something perhaps we cannot ever know.) Pushing fears of steroid use aside, I heaved a couple into my cart.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjUwbefGzxmRnTIPI4PJeSJ8MrjLj7NJLKJ2FPhYK6fuDh-p6I5p8hwCZBtsb1y9LGspbIYv7ArxoL66nTW3fGXJia7hGtYNUJxuReAhZJdlSMTTEe7zZHyNWpHyICQhm-nN4R9pMPDISk/s1600/cauliflower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjUwbefGzxmRnTIPI4PJeSJ8MrjLj7NJLKJ2FPhYK6fuDh-p6I5p8hwCZBtsb1y9LGspbIYv7ArxoL66nTW3fGXJia7hGtYNUJxuReAhZJdlSMTTEe7zZHyNWpHyICQhm-nN4R9pMPDISk/s320/cauliflower.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
As I was trying a new Tandoori chicken that night, I decided to use the tandoori sauce and roast the cauliflower as well. (Plus, there was no space for it in my little fridge.)<br />
<br />
With chart-topping levels of Vitamin C, Vitamin K, cancer-preventing antioxidants and phytonutrients, cauliflower is a vegetable that is welcome to the table anytime. This one was so beautiful I could not bear to cut it up, so I marinated it in the rub standing upright in a colander, then transferred that to the oven on a cookie sheet and roasted it whole.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNk3SvloyEB_SsvUllQUjANw705gs81svKkOpfk1Fuc0k1yTutJGP9jeQS5GN4HHlGp3CbE1lp_V9fAFes1dD7nkSfLqLypM2zgxpqVAf8VM2HpKULd2_OssFnXjLeuBssDqGvkPrB8S7O/s1600/cauliflower+roasted.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNk3SvloyEB_SsvUllQUjANw705gs81svKkOpfk1Fuc0k1yTutJGP9jeQS5GN4HHlGp3CbE1lp_V9fAFes1dD7nkSfLqLypM2zgxpqVAf8VM2HpKULd2_OssFnXjLeuBssDqGvkPrB8S7O/s320/cauliflower+roasted.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: red;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: red;">Tandoori Sauce</span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
adapted from <span style="color: purple;"><a href="http://www.ediblecommunities.com/blueridge/" target="_blank">Edible Blue Ridge </a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 cup plain yogurt</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
6 cloves garlic, minced</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2 T fresh grated ginger</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
juice of 2 lemons</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1-1/2 T garam masala</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 t turmeric</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2 t ground cumin</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 t coarse salt</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mix in a bowl and rub over whole cauliflower, as well as 6 chicken thighs, front and back. Marinate in refrigerator for at least one and up to 6 hours.</div>
<br />
When you are ready to cook, preheat oven to 400 degrees. <div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pull chicken and cauliflower out of refrigerator. Arrange chicken on a wire rack over a baking sheet and leave out. Roast cauliflower at 400 degrees for 40 minutes, or until you can easily insert a knife into the stem section -- this is a good judge of how tender it is.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let the cauliflower rest on top of the stove and increase heat to 500 degrees. Cook chicken 10 minutes, or until internal temp reaches 170 degrees.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Serve with rice and garnish with cilantro and raita. Oh, sorry.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzRlZwCDOEn6cOOn_nJA8i4FeMy1YZu4BLH8MxznJRTNOjFS3VynABHpnHrBPrVDoMQg7vKEPBBoPq_DYRNg5v0RJU3K-icQIDlqxx_AuOPYCpiAwbSwHu7ihGFUyBBKKzA44xI7lqZWWE/s1600/cauliflower+chicken+tandoori.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzRlZwCDOEn6cOOn_nJA8i4FeMy1YZu4BLH8MxznJRTNOjFS3VynABHpnHrBPrVDoMQg7vKEPBBoPq_DYRNg5v0RJU3K-icQIDlqxx_AuOPYCpiAwbSwHu7ihGFUyBBKKzA44xI7lqZWWE/s320/cauliflower+chicken+tandoori.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: red;">Raita</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 cucumber, grated</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 cup plain yogurt</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 teaspoon coarse salt</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 Tablespoon light-colored vinegar (I like coconut vinegar but was out, so used white wine vinegar) or juice of one lemon or lime</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
Grate cucumber into a bowl and toss with the rest of the ingredients. Keep refrigerated until ready to use. Can make up to 2 days ahead but will have to stir as cucumber is very liquidy.<br />
<br />
Enjoy. Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-71413861951143139152012-10-03T10:14:00.003-07:002012-10-03T10:17:03.074-07:00Get Figgy with itI am not the most patient of people. Pretty much anyone who knows me will tell you this, and the authority on the subject would be my mother.<br />
<br />
But sometimes, one has no choice. No choice but to slow down and take time, trust the process, hope for the best -- such as with children, small puppies and, it turns out, trees. <br />
<br />
Four years ago, I decided I wanted figs. Actually, long before that, but it was just four years ago that I was in any position to do something other than hope a carton of ripe figs would magically show up in the produce aisle, or the farm market.<br />
<br />
My amour of figs began long ago, when I was working in New York City during college. I didn't have much available cash, but I had a place to live (a room which was mostly a bed with a path to the closet and the bathroom alongside it.) It wasn't a great place to hang out, but I worked most of the time, and the rest of the time I took to the streets. Saturdays I picked a vertical street and walked the length of it. During the week I walked to work. All of these walks included a cup of coffee and produce carts, with inexpensive seasonal fruit which I would buy to eat while I strolled.<br />
<br />
In the fall, there were figs. I would buy a carton of the purple, bursting fruit for about a buck fifty, and one by one bite into the fleshy pink centers until I by the end of the day had devoured the entire box.<br />
<br />
This was living.<br />
<br />
Then I moved to a place where figs were hard to come by -- and by that I mean impossible -- but I still, when visiting New York would devour whole boxes of figs, keeping them in their paper bags to hoard them away from my companions. "You can get your own," I would say, trying to be polite. I had an unreasonable affinity to this practice of eating figs in the autumn while walking down New York streets. At the time, I didn't even know how good figs are for you: one fig has only 37 calories, but is high in fiber, which helps in everything from losing weight to preventing breast cancer, as well as potassium (helps control blood pressure) and calcium (increased bone density).<br />
<br />
One day I read a story in the paper by a woman from Brooklyn, who moved into a brownstone with an old fig tree in the yard behind. Each fall, she had so much ripe fruit that she didn't know what to do with it. I read the whole article. (Already this was good, often I am too impatient to follow an article all the way to the end.)<br />
<br />
This sounded to me the best kind of problem one could ever have. So four years ago, when we moved to a farm in Virginia, I ordered two fig trees, one Brown Turkey fig and one Kadota fig, to plant. I didn't even know the difference. It didn't matter: they didn't take. I started reading about them, and the second year moved them to spots I thought would be much more suitable. Sunny spots, protected from wind and weather, where they could stretch their limbs to the sky and provide me with loads of juicy figs.<br />
<br />
Still nothing. They didn't die, but they didn't do much of anything. They stayed small and straggly, shrugging off one or two figs a year, which mostly the birds got. (I know this because they taunted me by dotting the ground nearby with blotches of purple poo.) But I didn't have the heart to move them, something akin to giving up (besides impatience, I am also blessed with stubbornness). Then this summer, I returned after a long vacation to a summer which had been long, hot and dry to a landscape overgrown with weeds, bushes grown unruly and wild. I parked my car next to a big bush that most certainly had not been there when I left. I took a closer look. It was my Kadota fig tree, nearly tripled in size, and laden with green fruits the size of ping pong balls.<br />
<span id="goog_597588812"></span><span id="goog_597588813"></span><br />
Ok, not laden, but enough so that I could walk round the house with the pup and a coffee, and pull off a fig. In fact, I had to do this every day or the ants would get there first. It wasn't New York, and it wasn't a whole carton, but it was so satisfying.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7QBSiVJCXshAb6mazuFS36rHIbmZUH20AZRR9_5CZd66XuUPDQQwP0ejNxXwFfRxXoZWZVrpa9KjzuITpPpHn2uYkb0GEBU1olH_jYGfQe04sC3-mLFcJqFjsgLHfLNb3UbNNimleJVgZ/s1600/IMG_2722.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7QBSiVJCXshAb6mazuFS36rHIbmZUH20AZRR9_5CZd66XuUPDQQwP0ejNxXwFfRxXoZWZVrpa9KjzuITpPpHn2uYkb0GEBU1olH_jYGfQe04sC3-mLFcJqFjsgLHfLNb3UbNNimleJVgZ/s200/IMG_2722.jpg" width="149" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdsHVYXCCuqtUU9L7s8Agad1c4ytGPIiXp4k4I7MImYz1QxP_kLS3vr5o07RfIm916nFQ6jR6eawC-NEwkGzZ9lsMwwRvwrZ0t-y749OxBHJEynBqfi6AW5IqxLnqstaK3JLIBCWEXCGAo/s1600/IMG_2723.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdsHVYXCCuqtUU9L7s8Agad1c4ytGPIiXp4k4I7MImYz1QxP_kLS3vr5o07RfIm916nFQ6jR6eawC-NEwkGzZ9lsMwwRvwrZ0t-y749OxBHJEynBqfi6AW5IqxLnqstaK3JLIBCWEXCGAo/s200/IMG_2723.jpg" width="148" /></a></div>
<br />
So this is why patience is a virtue.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo0jOCh7rQzawoq2k84DAiOuUBeUKrAcZhCgtX4jImJYzCIyaV89M2MVMs_xiGmcMp4WINqOve23AgCqRg_N4uIjPPJS2YxdpYQ7IHaLKjxv51fnVgw3ot4g8obX5oadCD30Mazs-Kmqyg/s1600/IMG_2724.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo0jOCh7rQzawoq2k84DAiOuUBeUKrAcZhCgtX4jImJYzCIyaV89M2MVMs_xiGmcMp4WINqOve23AgCqRg_N4uIjPPJS2YxdpYQ7IHaLKjxv51fnVgw3ot4g8obX5oadCD30Mazs-Kmqyg/s320/IMG_2724.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I shouldn't mislead you that I am totally cured: I have to admit that since my tree only put off about nine figs so far, this fall I have been to New York twice and both times loaded up with figs to bring home. (The good news: a carton only about two bucks fifty now!) I found them at the Whole Foods ($3.99), and the Dupont Circle farmer's market in DC ($6 apiece, but right from the farmer). And to prolong this oh so good feeling (and because I <i>finally</i> just got more than I could eat) I started making jam. So in the middle of winter, on the shortest, darkest day when you begin to doubt the sun will ever warm the fig tree again, I can make a fig jam and almond butter sandwich (if you haven't tried this, I highly recommend it -- I use Corn Thins or spelt bread from Le Pain Quotidien) and get the feeling.<br />
<br />
That figgy feeling.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: red;">Fig Jam</span><br />
<i>Figs are so sweet that I used only a pinch of Stevia to sweeten -- if you require a sweeter condiment</i>, <i>use sugar in a ratio of 3x the Stevia.</i><br />
<br />
Figs, any kind, 2 pint cartons<br />
Sure-Jell, or any pectin, 1 box (to buy this you have to decide what sugar you will use as you need to look at the packet to make sure you are buying the right pectin for your sweetner. I used the low sugar SureJell.)<br />
1/3 cup Stevia (or 1 cup sugar, honey or agave)<br />
1/4 cup water<br />
Juice of a large lemon <br />
1 t cinnamon (optional) or 1 Tablespoon lemon zest (optional) or 1 Tablespoon minced fresh thyme<br />
1 dozen small quilted canning jars <br />
<br />
Wash and quarter the figs, paring off any remaining hard stems. Put them in a medium saucepan with the Sure-Jell, sweetner, lemon juice and water. Bring to a boil. When it boils, add the spice or zest or herb, if you like, and bring to a boil. (I made a batch of each.) Turn down the heat and let simmer about 10 minutes. Mash with a potato masher until the consistency desired (I didn't leave any large pieces of fruit.)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdLfgynVxMjzOZBHJl7EbPwULOT3E904cX1VBY7MXRFezBYfOUrQxuiCdM1Wz_VmvPFH0ajLdq59EO69SjDdB-P05VxE8vnS1Qjzm2FAgw1efZTcAL3DP5JfOS1FZYwzVIb1xFtJJYP2zd/s1600/IMG_2692.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdLfgynVxMjzOZBHJl7EbPwULOT3E904cX1VBY7MXRFezBYfOUrQxuiCdM1Wz_VmvPFH0ajLdq59EO69SjDdB-P05VxE8vnS1Qjzm2FAgw1efZTcAL3DP5JfOS1FZYwzVIb1xFtJJYP2zd/s320/IMG_2692.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
While the jam is reducing at the simmer, bring a large pot of water to boil on the stove. Put the jars and the lids in separately for 3 minutes, take out with large tongs and set on clean dish towel. After the jars and lids are sterilized, do not touch the inside of the lids or the tops of the jars, because you will have germs on your hands which could desanitize the contents.<br />
<br />
While jam is still hot, spoon contents into canning jars, taking care to leave an inch of room on top of each for breathing space. Tighten with a rubber lid grip and put in boiling water for 20 minutes. You may have to do this in batches. Let cool, label and store.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ5x-WuzNtAPhi294Zbr85lFaW7cGHjq9osJ-5SXgsuHh0ni1apk7oJ08wVOnDoVxTozU0PsuBQpsLn9226kd2qCch8mLbrYhtx2GWfwHWs82hd5NZl_9JuqIzdLN_55ppabn0AOAM5NG_/s1600/IMG_2641.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ5x-WuzNtAPhi294Zbr85lFaW7cGHjq9osJ-5SXgsuHh0ni1apk7oJ08wVOnDoVxTozU0PsuBQpsLn9226kd2qCch8mLbrYhtx2GWfwHWs82hd5NZl_9JuqIzdLN_55ppabn0AOAM5NG_/s320/IMG_2641.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Until winter, if you can wait that long.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-74039243327642552312012-04-30T10:20:00.002-07:002012-04-30T10:20:36.040-07:00The Morel of the StoryIt occurs to me that I didn't mention how I know my friend is addicted to the foraging for morels, as opposed to the outcome.<br />
<br />
Here's how.<br />
<br />
1. She is infinitely fair dividing them up at the end. Even if everyone keeps their own bucket, they all go in a pot and are divided at the end of the day.<br />
<br />
2. Past scarfing that first batch, she doesn't down them. A great many are still strung on thread and hanging from her mantle to dry as I type.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmRMFrZ1nDHvVEMn5j2CqBqPbMZjxbWP44fay52oXwL0jGGUcPRY-CxVx6Tuo6RW9CS7wZmLOMob8T5KpmBw-PYBIVnBvdMD6hAMude1Beq_KjItSvFjM0fCzW1RKOkHiYBG9saABpfjAj/s1600/morel+string.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="117" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmRMFrZ1nDHvVEMn5j2CqBqPbMZjxbWP44fay52oXwL0jGGUcPRY-CxVx6Tuo6RW9CS7wZmLOMob8T5KpmBw-PYBIVnBvdMD6hAMude1Beq_KjItSvFjM0fCzW1RKOkHiYBG9saABpfjAj/s320/morel+string.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
3. She sings to the morels as she roams, eyes to the forest floor, and believes they have superpowers.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihwpcqDZFcc9sWMDgkY0eO9WScM8DrdHPOsQf-kVV1sif6uqJ3vEE1cwWre1DjgZLinAIlGJwDVdmFHOlBYIaow5at1bUozeU_koo-qkomZcJTgL6nPe2DeM2u6Bd9Dy68a8O3fqGWROID/s1600/morel+line+up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihwpcqDZFcc9sWMDgkY0eO9WScM8DrdHPOsQf-kVV1sif6uqJ3vEE1cwWre1DjgZLinAIlGJwDVdmFHOlBYIaow5at1bUozeU_koo-qkomZcJTgL6nPe2DeM2u6Bd9Dy68a8O3fqGWROID/s200/morel+line+up.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
I am starting to believe she is right. Nutritionists certainly do.<br />
<br />
In clinical studies in which subjects were randomly assigned diets of either mushrooms or beef, participants eating the mushroom meals consumed 430 calories and 30 grams of fat LESS per day. Most astonishingly, they didn't report any difference in satiety than did the beef eaters, nor did they compensate for their mushroom meals by pigging out later. Another study suggests that if the average American male substituted a 4-ounce Portobella
mushroom for a 4-ounce grilled hamburger every time they ate a burger for one year, and changed nothing else, they could save more than 18,000 calories and nearly 3,000 grams of fat. That's roughly equal to 30 sticks of butter.<br />
<br />
Magic? Perhaps. The magnificent mushroom is also the bearer of vitamin D -- scientists say a serving of mushrooms, with 20 calories and no fat, provides 100 % of our D goal after just five minutes of contact with sunlight. And they're packed with nutrients like selenium and niacin, which provide antioxidants to boost immune systems, combat cancer and break down fats and carbohydrates.<br />
<br />
It's starting to sound as if we can't afford not to eat them. With eggs from the neighbors and spring greens and asparagus from my garden, they are as beautiful and tasty as they are healthy.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBLshWWI7MsnxbfvI5LIm9480CeMRoWlKwLUsTekK7Y-AUr04F5vzBfGaEiHInZzUnqy-WWbaDLBTJEh0JtWjybOiVxtQ3h3rW3zJ7ZfqZSbxeYDEHD87-j_Ra8ltBfVDFkx8mzdnGdSes/s1600/morel+egg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBLshWWI7MsnxbfvI5LIm9480CeMRoWlKwLUsTekK7Y-AUr04F5vzBfGaEiHInZzUnqy-WWbaDLBTJEh0JtWjybOiVxtQ3h3rW3zJ7ZfqZSbxeYDEHD87-j_Ra8ltBfVDFkx8mzdnGdSes/s320/morel+egg.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="color: red;">
Morels on Asparagus</div>
<br />
2 handfuls arugula<br />
sprig of mint<br />
four stalks of asparagus<br />
2 eggs, fried in coconut oil<br />
<br />
Rinse arugula and mint and shred on a plate. Bring water with a pinch of salt to a boil in a flat skillet, add asparagus (pinch off the rough ends) and cook until tender. Add a spray of coconut oil to the skillet and quickly fry two eggs. Top the greens with asparagus and egg, then flash fry morels (I cut large ones in half -- and remember, they aren't the biggest fan of water, wipe any dirt away gently with a damp towel) with a few more grains coarse salt, just until warm. <br />
<br />
Voila.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-18273618143940271832012-04-18T10:57:00.002-07:002012-04-18T19:56:22.162-07:00The Mother LoadI have a friend who is as addicted to hunting morels as I am.<br />
<br />
The first batch she got this spring she sauteed up when she got home and ate before her husband returned. After all, we rationalized, it was only 9 mushrooms. Hardly enough to share. And just the beginning of the season.<br />
<br />
A week later, we walked up a hillside staccato with poplars, on an East facing slope, scattered with May apples and Jack in the pulpit underfoot. If you know the terrain morels like, you'd know this was perfect.<br />
<br />
Except it wasn't. Oh, there was one here, and after a great long while maybe another, but nothing to write a blog about. And to top it off, we went with our children, one of them dramatically and actively unhappy. The kind of reticence that gets expressed like: "This is the worst day of my life."<br />
<br />
For a mother who ranks these few morel-gathering weeks in Spring among the best of the year, this is bad news. The dilemma -- to press on and risk turning the poor tired thing against mushroom scavenging for the rest of her natural life, or give in, potentially leaving the elusive morels to shrivel without being found, or worse, snuffled by a passing bear? (This last is my imagination. I have no idea if bears eat mushrooms.)<br />
<br />
We tried cajoling, creating a scavenger hunt in the woods, flat out bribery. We tempted with snacks, and let the tykes rest on a log while we foraged in circles around them. We crooned, "c'mon sweetie, Mommy only gets to do this once a year," and when that didn't work, "buck up, it's just an hour of your life." (Face it, if you're a mom you've been there.)<br />
<br />
In the meantime, up we walked, over fallen logs, scanning the thick carpet of dead leaves covering the forest floor for the honeycomb caps, camouflagued by the matching downed foliage. They gave us only enough to keep us from quitting -- just as we decided we'd leave, another would show itself, teasing us, daring us, taunting us to find the next. On we went, led by the morels, from one slope to the next, prodding the exhausted tyke to hang in just another moment. <br />
<br />
When it seemed we had come up blank, the day a bust (plus, we were late for soccer practice) we headed back to our car.<br />
<br />
"Over here," yelled a kid, running down the wooded slope ahead.<br />
<br />
"I found one," screamed another kid, the one who just a minute ago had been seemingly near extinction. I looked down to make sure I wasn't going to trip on my way to see, and spotted a big black morel, just by my foot. As I reached for my pocketknife to cut it neatly at the dirt, I saw there were -- 6. Right in a row.<br />
<br />
"JACKPOT," I heard a scream, and it wasn't me. From then on it was a frenzy, everywhere we turned, and sometimes where we stepped, a virtual dell of morels. We collected 2 pounds in the last half hour alone.<br />
<br />
This is how morels operate.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKg6A6DwiuDIvZth_flQ4waWvZpxZ8BYak6rGkmWuSYFbN1T1gVMlwOUXoyPw-XgY89EBhoFTFbw6G6D0c1WyCuDhKfqYttg8pS3L4-dpaey105_HgylZrLteE_mBTN7iBrHBFv5lNQUk-/s1600/mother+load.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKg6A6DwiuDIvZth_flQ4waWvZpxZ8BYak6rGkmWuSYFbN1T1gVMlwOUXoyPw-XgY89EBhoFTFbw6G6D0c1WyCuDhKfqYttg8pS3L4-dpaey105_HgylZrLteE_mBTN7iBrHBFv5lNQUk-/s320/mother+load.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
It was a very good day. We div'ied them up, (this was our share, above) and left. We were late to soccer. And later, over a large glass of red wine (or lemonade) and morels sauteed in butter, as we replayed the last half hour, and plotted our return to the woods, no one cared at all.<br />
<br />
This is how morels get you. Reel you in. To be fair, though it may be a lot of effort to find them, once you find them you need do nothing to them, indeed, they are best that way. Morels, like cats, do not like water, and keep themselves extremely clean. Cut them clean off at the bottom, and brush off any dirt before you put them in the paper bag or coffee can you collect them in and they will stay that way.<br />
<br />
Melt a little oil and butter in the pan with some coarse salt and stir in the morels. Slice the big ones in half and leave the littles, add some shaved parsley if you have some in your garden. Stir them just until they soften, then serve.<br />
<br />
Over a rare veal chop:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbU7dk4WrfQS8vdJEz23a_Nm6YsSni8kOAw7kFL0e1YaPT3xUl1vOaAbWA44sD_Zb7iAZKIZSQJAHU0EJk-dDtNcD3-T7ISfdu6FxUcp0AJGyYOigJZhJciOen1B0U6qD0Z4WB_EuXzIyW/s1600/veal+morel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbU7dk4WrfQS8vdJEz23a_Nm6YsSni8kOAw7kFL0e1YaPT3xUl1vOaAbWA44sD_Zb7iAZKIZSQJAHU0EJk-dDtNcD3-T7ISfdu6FxUcp0AJGyYOigJZhJciOen1B0U6qD0Z4WB_EuXzIyW/s320/veal+morel.jpg" width="239" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
And if you have enough, the next morning, over eggs and toast:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5MCxli2r91mEgnx0DCZIjmYmSvZG0xq8U9sdOJaxudZAG3Re1AiAFvjLKE6qBwnRmEWXuUPU60v4cKahBPcIWpsZGAJ-4k4CL8HUjn0l8hKFoEIV4AtRWK0lgnS2tRgoUPvkjWtULcDed/s1600/morel+on+toast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5MCxli2r91mEgnx0DCZIjmYmSvZG0xq8U9sdOJaxudZAG3Re1AiAFvjLKE6qBwnRmEWXuUPU60v4cKahBPcIWpsZGAJ-4k4CL8HUjn0l8hKFoEIV4AtRWK0lgnS2tRgoUPvkjWtULcDed/s320/morel+on+toast.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
It was after all, first batch of the spring. And to our neighbors, thanks for the woods. Sorry you were Ghana.Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-83945168205256780512012-03-28T10:43:00.001-07:002012-04-16T08:57:20.706-07:00Eat BritishI lived in London in my teens, and don't remember much about what I ate those five years but Cadbury Creme Eggs, oh, and kebabs cut from big hanks of spitted meat from shops in Gloucester Road. This last was much to my father's dismay; he'd lecture on dangers of street food to the point where I no longer copped to my transgressions.<br />
<br />
Much of the food was actually inedible. A burger from the chain Wimpy was just that, with soft bread mixed in the meat, chickens that tasted of the fish meal they ate, orange "juice" like flavored water. Visitors from the States were requested to bring boxes of Captain Crunch cereal.<br />
<br />
Clearly, I was no epicure. I thought tea at Brown's Hotel divine -- way before it's chic reno -- we sunk into the shabby floral couches, with plates of cucumber sandwiches (white bread, thin sliced cucumber, butter, no crusts, cut on the diagonal), stirring brown crawly sugar and milk into the fine china cups. For tea at home I favored Bakewell Tarts, individual pie shells filled with jam and gooey almond-flavored fondant. Many of my teeth were also filled in this period, no surprise.<br />
<br />
But the UK has had a food revolution. It's one trying to happen here, though they are light years ahead on this one.<br />
<br />
It's organics, local food, grown, raised and procured by folks with passion that comes through in every bite. It's a thriving restaurant scene, pubs being refurbished and adding menus taking advantage of seasonal treats -- a welcome change, one cabbie told me, from drinking establishments that might just have the odd Scotch egg (a hard boiled egg wrapped in sausage) to coat your tummy. <br />
<br />
The impetus for this State-supported revelation was Mad Cow, the bovine disease that decimated England's food chain in the '90s. Since then, with establishment of the Department of Environmental, Food and Rural Affairs (DEFRA) and their popular "Buy British" movement, farmers, producers and purveyors have gotten grants and education to strengthen the local food chain.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQK14cePECzvg4Xc-U6S28cIAFZH50bEbk0_ntwrBS8WhmUSD0c7bTOcWdT4KMS3VHifO-9YWhDs0k0Vwl86d8aXJ5_0wqaCc7Eum9nl0PNCPEsDCYdNQSDCTO3zhChdQk_LOBtcz7qQsS/s1600/daylesford" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQK14cePECzvg4Xc-U6S28cIAFZH50bEbk0_ntwrBS8WhmUSD0c7bTOcWdT4KMS3VHifO-9YWhDs0k0Vwl86d8aXJ5_0wqaCc7Eum9nl0PNCPEsDCYdNQSDCTO3zhChdQk_LOBtcz7qQsS/s320/daylesford" width="212" /></a></div><br />
While it's become stylish, as here, to eat organic, it's even chicer to be involved. D’Aylesford Organic, the brainchild of Lady Carole Bamford, sets the standard for farm-to-fork in the UK, with 7 shops and restaurants throughout the country selling the bounty of their Gloustershire estate. Emma Holman-West, steward of her 4,000-acre family estate near Stratford-upon-Avon, has reinvigorated the local 18th-century coaching inn, The Bell, with groovy decor and sophisticated local food. Charlie Luxton, a former suit with Soho House (he was aboard for the luxury hotel's debut in NY's Meatpacking District) has turned the Beckford Arms, on the Fonthill Estate in Wiltshire, into a destination for those wanting the idyll of the country, the laid back comfort of a pub, but the style of boutique hotel.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy9P_uWMkvt2KDaXZhmJP3ah9unHW7KRAlb8zf_D0svDyZVhoZCtnKHIZ-2HVjoiMKI7Xh-z1Nm0kbw9QsfjivpKE641BWf-b3_uWry4CuiCHkeenh3Y5Z_sGX_U9_hKX7lJNkmTMMyvEA/s1600/Fonthill+Lodge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy9P_uWMkvt2KDaXZhmJP3ah9unHW7KRAlb8zf_D0svDyZVhoZCtnKHIZ-2HVjoiMKI7Xh-z1Nm0kbw9QsfjivpKE641BWf-b3_uWry4CuiCHkeenh3Y5Z_sGX_U9_hKX7lJNkmTMMyvEA/s320/Fonthill+Lodge.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg18xbV7ySpH6bcrUxOstgD6g_E7Fn3HU1hbSaFuemKxlxkRdp7_TiaDiv0Q1iWbQdYT43ng93sIrF_OC0T8-35YdFrPEAw38p2ZMJMI8kKMSVGBBAEAyoYSaWo2dsoQbnT8QJDcIGy1CUf/s1600/beckford+front" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg18xbV7ySpH6bcrUxOstgD6g_E7Fn3HU1hbSaFuemKxlxkRdp7_TiaDiv0Q1iWbQdYT43ng93sIrF_OC0T8-35YdFrPEAw38p2ZMJMI8kKMSVGBBAEAyoYSaWo2dsoQbnT8QJDcIGy1CUf/s1600/beckford+front" /></a></div><br />
The drive to the Beckford Arms, a scant 2 hours from London, is open motorway until a veer left at Stonehenge, just 15 miles away. Entering the magnificent Fonthill Estate through a graceful stone gateway, past a manicured swan lake, feels noble. We arrived in time for a walk before dinner -- the area is crisscrossed with public footpaths that take you off road through fields and over dams, where only sheep tread.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfc8pM5MmWwpAJpetJ4TzoaYF48pEH9DI6NV9QesAPSsF6GPfy6sCJRtwscNiDWyjWV820xGTIK7_GZfVRnVmM4vLnFP1WmgF-r9FUD8qO9Ec8RXFO5mTt4aySk4HGv3fIh3hPZrvWuLQ1/s1600/beckford+arms" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfc8pM5MmWwpAJpetJ4TzoaYF48pEH9DI6NV9QesAPSsF6GPfy6sCJRtwscNiDWyjWV820xGTIK7_GZfVRnVmM4vLnFP1WmgF-r9FUD8qO9Ec8RXFO5mTt4aySk4HGv3fIh3hPZrvWuLQ1/s200/beckford+arms" width="200" /></a><br />
Before dinner, we chose to have a champagne in front of a vast stone fireplace on cushy sofas -- but the inn is riddled with charming niches, from the bay window in the pub to the bar itself, a dining room that opens onto the garden, or the cozy sitting room, set with tables before wavy glass windows that reflect the candle's light. Our son, age 7, instantly felt comfortable rambling his way to the bar for a lemonade, where Colin the barkeep threw in a few magic tricks and friendly locals encouraged his imitation.<br />
<br />
Dinner, after all this splendor, was hardly the point. We could have had a burger and chips, then crawled under the thick duvet and watched the inn's DVD of Dr. Doolittle with a cocoa -- but chef Pravin Nayar is having none of that. Recently proclaimed one of the finest gastropub chefs in the UK, his menu is nothing short of mouthwatering, a showcase of local bounty and simple, elegant technique.<br />
<br />
I started with pigeon, served with a divine black pudding and roasted hazelnuts. Next, a local Brixham hake, pan-sauteed and served with salt-roasted beetroots from South Petherton and a poached egg, all drizzled in brown butter. Nayar was only too happy to give the recipe -- so easy, he came out and explained it himself instead of sending out a written page as many other chefs do. You may not be able to get Brixham hake (or hake at all for that matter, I substituted wild halibut -- any thick white fish will suffice. )<br />
<br />
Do try this at home.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTm3jAxO_-nyFUb0U72J3Dnny4VrMoJEyLgxLl9NLNR3SotrTigTY7kv6tKYs7ewTxj1LMM4yIF_hI433Y4yIc5DsGyl1yWt-I74IrglXXo-l_M2KdEsAZ_WIQlZoIYNlndz0j3AHQ5hCR/s1600/beckford+fish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTm3jAxO_-nyFUb0U72J3Dnny4VrMoJEyLgxLl9NLNR3SotrTigTY7kv6tKYs7ewTxj1LMM4yIF_hI433Y4yIc5DsGyl1yWt-I74IrglXXo-l_M2KdEsAZ_WIQlZoIYNlndz0j3AHQ5hCR/s400/beckford+fish.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="color: red;">Pan fried Brixham hake with beetroots from South Petherton, brown butter and poached egg</div> courtesy of Pravin Nayar, The Beckford Arms<br />
<br />
Thick fillets of white fish, 1 lb will serve about 4<br />
8 beets, medium sized<br />
coarse salt<br />
4 good fresh eggs<br />
1 teaspoon vinegar<br />
butter, half a packet<br />
fresh horseradish root<br />
rapeseed oil<br />
<br />
First, salt roast the beets. Pack the beets in salt and roast, about 40 minutes for medium size beets. Pierce and peel. Cut in quarters.<br />
<br />
Pan fry the fish, skin side down, in rapeseed oil (the fields here are full of rapeseed, (a name we change to grapeseed) and he uses local oil-- do what you can) and butter, until the flesh starts to separate and is no longer opaque.<br />
<br />
Boil water in a small pan with steep sides and about a teaspoon of vinegar. (To keep the shape of the egg.) Pull the pan off when it begins to boil and let sit on the edge of the flame. You want the water to be about 90 degrees, for if you poach it too high the egg "goes all sloppy." Add the eggs and poach about 3-4 minutes depending on the size of the egg. (Nayar's tip: "If you can lift it and it wants to stay on the spoon it's ready, but if it wants to fall off the spoon, not ready.")<br />
<br />
For the brown butter, heat it over a low flame in a small skillet until it is copper in color, the hue of a nice ale. Strain through a cheesecloth to get the brown bits out, if you like. (You can do this up to a week in advance, if you like, then reheat.) <br />
<br />
Plate the fish and surround with beets. Top with egg and drizzle with butter.<br />
<br />
<div style="color: red;">For my version:</div><br />
grapeseed oil <br />
coarse salt<br />
large bunch parsley<br />
two cloves garlic<br />
one lemon<br />
one pound wild Alaskan halibut<br />
1/2 cup butter plus two teaspoons<br />
4 eggs<br />
<br />
Heat a tablespoon of grapeseed oil in a small skillet and add a pinch of coarse salt after a few minutes. Let salt emulsify. With a scissor, cut parsley in about 1 inch widths over hot pan. With a microplane or grater, grate about a teaspoon of lemon zest over. When crisp, set aside.<br />
<br />
Melt a tablespoon butter and a tablespoon of oil in a skillet big enough to hold the fish. When the oil is hot, swirl it around in the skillet, return to heat and add a pinch of salt. When the salt emulsifies, add the fish. Cook until the flesh separates and is no longer opague -- but not too long, or it will go tough.<br />
<br />
Cook the butter and the eggs as above.<br />
<br />
Plate: Spread a spoonful of parsley and top with fish; layer on the egg and drizzle brown butter.<br />
<br />
Sante.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6lkAQCaKEnmWJ0JsPA9ITeyryJvlvO5Gmj8DAL4I78Q9OhNgtkYXIxmT_FVAJbAn8QZnJNFC5a2lvfukI0CT1hWfASWTrbPNxlXtU3rxTBZgt5EW-WXLS91dOl-h2feMbqEpb0nR-C1pM/s1600/fish+and+egg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6lkAQCaKEnmWJ0JsPA9ITeyryJvlvO5Gmj8DAL4I78Q9OhNgtkYXIxmT_FVAJbAn8QZnJNFC5a2lvfukI0CT1hWfASWTrbPNxlXtU3rxTBZgt5EW-WXLS91dOl-h2feMbqEpb0nR-C1pM/s320/fish+and+egg.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-40186477943333205922012-01-08T09:10:00.000-08:002012-01-08T09:10:11.693-08:00Donuts for PeaceThe favorite mornings at my mother's house are those she makes donuts. Little bits of fried dough, shaken in a bag of cinnamon sugar, seem to make everyone's day. Grandad walks by and snags the holes, not so subtly.<br />
<br />
Doughnuts have been around since the dawn of time, and have always brought such joy. When my son learned from a friend they served doughnuts at Hannukah, he requested to be Jewish. <br />
<br />
Let's be clear, these are neither healthy nor gluten-free, but as they bring so much happiness there has to be room for them at the table. In reading up on donuts -- also known as doughnuts -- I found a reference to the Civil War, an incident where the Ladies Auxilliary of Augusta, Me., literally smothered their troops in donuts of every ilk. "Never before was seen such an aggregate of doughnuts since the world began," reported the Baltimore American of the "doughnation". "It was emphatically a feast of doughnuts, if not a flow of soul."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj52OZ603aASEUaK5kLhmnBNBgWuf_R2BNIr-FRJ4jCjCIpH8QBC-Mg7NMczAAd48UkS7p0kEAn-r0oOoY9Q9NnfdxPw_3sNXwbQ1CJmuMttWYV0DaZG4KPOe4QL4XMVsbPbHpVVxa8v_x2/s1600/donut+war.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj52OZ603aASEUaK5kLhmnBNBgWuf_R2BNIr-FRJ4jCjCIpH8QBC-Mg7NMczAAd48UkS7p0kEAn-r0oOoY9Q9NnfdxPw_3sNXwbQ1CJmuMttWYV0DaZG4KPOe4QL4XMVsbPbHpVVxa8v_x2/s1600/donut+war.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
That is what it is like on doughnut morning, a flow of soul, on a river of cinnamon sugar. Try it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-NsPYtolW8JlWOsd3tpPC73Jq0TK-O0j76k8Uz6wdhKI0go_DrqX0Du5NK2Nry_T53matwS8DcJ3xIquXulkxARLykoXRIQ0Sjy6nN09aZQDD0thENaZ7fujec5fRsla1SaqdGcvJPFJr/s1600/donuts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-NsPYtolW8JlWOsd3tpPC73Jq0TK-O0j76k8Uz6wdhKI0go_DrqX0Du5NK2Nry_T53matwS8DcJ3xIquXulkxARLykoXRIQ0Sjy6nN09aZQDD0thENaZ7fujec5fRsla1SaqdGcvJPFJr/s320/donuts.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="color: red;">Gram's Donuts</div><br />
I package Pillsbury Buttermilk Biscuits<br />
Oil for frying, about 4 cups (I like vegetable oil, or grapeseed oil. I do not recommend canola.)<br />
Sugar and cinnamon, for dusting<br />
<br />
Heat oil in a deep frying pan. Take a melon baller and take the hole out of the biscuit, making a donut. Reserve holes. Fry donuts and holes in the hot oil, turning once, until golden, about 3 minutes a side when oil is hot.<br />
<br />
Put sugar and cinnamon in a plastic bag or a bowl. Coat hot donuts with sugar and serve.<br />
<br />
Enjoy!Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-2831330307537764952011-12-12T11:25:00.000-08:002011-12-12T11:27:16.179-08:00Artichokes, BabyOur honeymoon was the most organized I have ever been. I read guidebooks, picked people's brains, even read classics set in Italy to decide where to visit. From afar, I booked hotels and restaurants.<br />
<br />
Once there, the day's sightseeing was plotted based on where our eating was occurring. In Amalfi, we hung out at the hotel on the water all day, sightseeing in the early evening, when the heat of the day was easing and -- did you guess? -- we traveled into town or nearby villages for dinner.<br />
<br />
We had a lot of fabulous meals, though perhaps predictably the most memorable were the unscripted. A late supper on arrival in Umbria, so steeped in truffles -- neither of us had had them in that magnitude before -- that we looked at each other wondering what that delicious aura was. For the rest of our time in the region we hunted foods containing them -- truffle oil, truffle cheese, even truffle gelato -- like junkies. The picnic we bought on the way back from Pompeii, at a little store on the side of a mountain so steep one of stayed in the car with his foot on the pedal while the other dashed in and bought fresh red tomatoes, mozzarella and wine in jars, vintage yesterday, to eat on the balcony of our cottage overlooking the Mediterranean. Our last night in Rome, when we left a mediocre restaurant after the appetizers and wandered the cobblestone streets from wine bar to wine bar, ending up at a pizzaria with the locals with my high heels kicked off under the table, so far from our intended path I could probably not find it again.<br />
<br />
We slept in, drank wine with lunch and had coffee late in the day. We ate fried foods willy-nilly. I even ate bread and pasta, without worry or even retribution.<br />
<br />
One lunch we stopped in the shadow of the coliseum, in an ordinary-looking restaurant, Da Giggetto, in the Jewish ghetto near the ruins of the palace built by Augustus for his sister, Ottavia. It was unassuming enough, but the <i>carciofi alla giudia -- </i>literally artichokes smushed by a brick and deep-fried, were like bits of heaven. The earthy artichokes, in a light batter, fried in oil so hot it didn't even get to the artichoke. Zucchini blossoms, stuffed with ricotta and garlic and fried. Squid, fresh from the sea, with a batter so light it might have been tempura. We polished off everything on our plates, licking grease from our fingers and washing it down with fruity white wine.<br />
<br />
I've never forgotten that meal. One summer, with visions of this lunch in my head, I grew zucchini just to stuff the blossoms. But I've never attempted the artichokes, though I've been hankering for them these ten years. After all, but the one time, my husband not only will not taste them but visibly recoils in their presence. Then I saw baby artichokes in the grocery store, shopping for a small dinner with a friend who also loves artichokes. Dare I?<br />
<br />
I did. I didn't smush them (no clean bricks), and I didn't deep fry them (not enough oil), but I did saute them in an inch of good olive oil, and finished with pressed garlic, mint, parsley and a pinch of coarse salt.<br />
<br />
And we ate them all up.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcGAeVWSBff-l9ZO62gFu7_s5CucDr6mNzE-TJfdqO2jWA6hRHEqgN2IkixCOxVluqJJXzpjk3pzMe5wlyh7pBndld9gjBK1mF89sZmAK8xTszUrAzqUQgwBTZzqkk5Zi69JQ8owTLdKuH/s1600/ghetto+artichokes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcGAeVWSBff-l9ZO62gFu7_s5CucDr6mNzE-TJfdqO2jWA6hRHEqgN2IkixCOxVluqJJXzpjk3pzMe5wlyh7pBndld9gjBK1mF89sZmAK8xTszUrAzqUQgwBTZzqkk5Zi69JQ8owTLdKuH/s320/ghetto+artichokes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="color: red;">Ghetto Artichokes</div><br />
1 flat of baby artichokes, 3 lbs.<br />
1/2 cup olive oil<br />
2 Tablespoons minced parsley<br />
2 Tablespoons minced mint<br />
3 cloves garlic, minced<br />
<br />
Peel off the tough outer leaves of each artichoke, until you get to the tender greenish yellow leaves inside, and cut about 1/2 inch from the top. Half the artichokes. They will brown if you do not put them in a bowl with water into which you have squeezed lemon juice, but it doesn't matter in the end -- I wasn't particular about it.<br />
<br />
Mince herbs and garlic, set aside. Heat oil in medium skillet over medium heat and melt 1 teaspoon coarse salt. Add artichokes and saute, turning once to brown on both sides.<br />
<br />
Remove from oil with slotted spatula to a bowl. Toss with herbs and garlic, a little lemon zest would rock too. Serve warm with drinks and olives. Would be divine with roast red peppers as well.<br />
<br />
Enjoy!Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-67439240267069202492011-12-10T11:51:00.000-08:002011-12-10T11:51:54.588-08:00Rice Krispy FunIt all started because one of the boys in my son's class can't eat eggs. I don't know what happens to him, but as one who avoids a major food group, I knew it couldn't be fun to be vigilant at every unsuspecting snack time.<br />
<br />
I first tried substituting apple sauce for the eggs, but the cake was more a muffin, though delicious with cream cheese icing.<br />
<br />
Then I remembered the humble rice krispy treat. So versatile!<br />
<br />
I bought several boxes of cereal (one large box makes two batches), along with bags of marshmallows, and prepared to bake. Then the snow came, postponing the party and bringing some opportune friends instead for a little impromptu celebration. I cracked open the boxes and made some monster treats.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKYkPV4IX8TAYTpYM9ftrrBfcX0WDhy0yaUdbYghccbf9LWRtnTq6DehCQUHkWOfbgUhj6xiYBhoyLfl5UN0OLW-EtCh5-y2WGAoN9YhIMVsxGeX4PS1wFwulP6z7RudBWlpRn5sLM_WNJ/s1600/rice+k+monsters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKYkPV4IX8TAYTpYM9ftrrBfcX0WDhy0yaUdbYghccbf9LWRtnTq6DehCQUHkWOfbgUhj6xiYBhoyLfl5UN0OLW-EtCh5-y2WGAoN9YhIMVsxGeX4PS1wFwulP6z7RudBWlpRn5sLM_WNJ/s320/rice+k+monsters.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The next weekend, when the sun shone, the party was on. Starting Friday, I made 7 more batches of rice krispy treats, and left them to harden slightly in the pan. We cut them into bricks and assembled, using marshmallow fluff as the mortar, marshmallows for the turrets, fruit leather cut into flags for the decor. Small knights fought on the ramparts. Swedish fish swam in a blue icing moat, around gumdrop stepping stones. <br />
<br />
When the time came for cake, the kids crowded around as I broke bits off and put them on plates. It was gone in a jiffy, and not one kid had to worry whether they could eat it. Seconds were had, even thirds, by big and small alike.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG1j4KML_SYUUOtAFTHpqOc60ERrz1N-uk8yZTXKCPdUXTCDkwSetMs0vpavaP2rd1cwuBVwZnS65epN7Jkpyf6uz9-sg2fND8m8EHY9i0FSXnob6qCPsWSspDtG0vW5Y2p8f_uZWa_1Lx/s1600/rice+krispy+castle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG1j4KML_SYUUOtAFTHpqOc60ERrz1N-uk8yZTXKCPdUXTCDkwSetMs0vpavaP2rd1cwuBVwZnS65epN7Jkpyf6uz9-sg2fND8m8EHY9i0FSXnob6qCPsWSspDtG0vW5Y2p8f_uZWa_1Lx/s320/rice+krispy+castle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="color: red;">Rice Crispy Treats</div><br />
6 cups rice crispies<br />
1 bag of marshmallows<br />
3 T butter <br />
1 teaspoon vanilla<br />
<br />
Melt butter in a pan on the stove and add the marshmallows, stirring until they are all melted. Pour over rice crispies in a large bowl and add vanilla. Stir to combine.<br />
<br />
Pat out in lasagna pans and let harden. Cut with knife.<br />
<br />
For the monsters, make one batch. Decorate with icing and M&Ms.<br />
<br />
For the cake, make 7 or 8 batches. Decorate with icing, marshmallows, gumdrpos and fruit leathers.<br />
<br />
Enjoy.Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-75954594318236152932011-10-06T09:54:00.000-07:002011-10-06T09:54:21.888-07:00Kitchen Reform tip 18/College cooking 101: Crack ProteinI haven't done anything to reform my kitchen all summer. After all, who needs it, just open the windows and let in the sunshine and fresh air -- grill a simple steak, serve up some local produce. <br />
<br />
But now we're back in the swing, days end earlier, littles must be in bed sooner. And that means dinner on the table, before pronto. Here's a little trick: eggs. (Also great -- see below for effects on memory and learning -- for cash-strapped college students, who I hope are reading this blog!)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhDA5WoD79Em5ZD5ZjTcNPbg4qhU3gaI55vt66W3fAwlF3wo4PVKWy2hDt8ckXXqP5G4O9oIqa7XgP6JXQSx2fpIjr04UT0_hNWYFsC_PVlMXJcwHL6nMMX7YYs2i_3puiAiXSttFQ3MLy/s1600/eggs.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhDA5WoD79Em5ZD5ZjTcNPbg4qhU3gaI55vt66W3fAwlF3wo4PVKWy2hDt8ckXXqP5G4O9oIqa7XgP6JXQSx2fpIjr04UT0_hNWYFsC_PVlMXJcwHL6nMMX7YYs2i_3puiAiXSttFQ3MLy/s320/eggs.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eggs from the happy chickens at <a href="http://athomewithrealfood.blogspot.com/2010/02/chicken-or-egg-definintely-egg.html">Hummingbird Hill </a>are divine, but studies show even experts can't tell the difference in taste between free range and store bought eggs.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
There's many ways to cook an egg. My favorite: over easy, yolks so runny they will sauce whatever else is on your plate (salmon hash, if you have a can of good wild salmon). But they are versatile for the whole family -- my 6-year-old will always eat a cheesy omelet, which does double duty by using up the leftover cheese ends too small to be useful for anything else in the cheese drawer.<br />
<br />
Protein contains amino acids, the essential building blocks of the body. And get this: we lose protein every day when we shed skin, hair and nails. So re-upping our supply is crucial, especially if active. Animal proteins -- lean poultry, meat and fish, and low-fat dairy -- contain a <i>complete</i> array of amino acids, but those more inclined to a plant-based diet needn't worry. Plants too contain amino acids, though not the entire spectrum, making them suppliers of <i>incomplete</i> protein.<br />
<br />
There's much to be said for protein, especially in highly bioavailable forms like protein powders and shakes, which go directly to the muscle rather than being digested and disseminated via the stomach. A <a href="http://www.cell.com/cell-metabolism/abstract/S1550-4131%2810%2900304-9?switch=standard">recent study from Brescia University in Milan</a> showed that protein powders containing three amino acids that we are unable to make on our own -- in particular leucine, which is the only amino acid capable of synthesizing protein in muscle -- can lengthen lifespan by up to 12% by activating the mitochondria in cells, which then slow the aging process. That's ten years for the average adult.<br />
<br />
And egg yolks also contain choline, essential for regulating metabolic pathways and maintaining cell membranes that allow cells to get rid of toxins, as well as development of cells in the hippocampus crucial for mental acuity and development. Pregnant women, in particular, can benefit from increased choline as it can aid in developing these brain functions in the fetus and, according to <a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2677022/?tool=pubmed">research published in the journal <u>Brain Research</u>,</a> can have aftereffects on brain development leaving an afterglow that helps resist age-related memory decline. <br />
<br />
So go ahead, eat your eggs.<br />
<br />
<div style="color: red;">Easy Anytime Crepes<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZzsm5quk38G627rf43g25Mp8kNEFGEtFoquy0xFf9oviuxST6PTau9ABpIqxQelJgaLfjEG-xtZFKUhuwWylW57ak41GbhgupBJ8rcBieb444eO6BOJeuyKy4gihZZ8HaGzCcamWqCcsH/s1600/crepes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZzsm5quk38G627rf43g25Mp8kNEFGEtFoquy0xFf9oviuxST6PTau9ABpIqxQelJgaLfjEG-xtZFKUhuwWylW57ak41GbhgupBJ8rcBieb444eO6BOJeuyKy4gihZZ8HaGzCcamWqCcsH/s320/crepes.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div style="color: black;"> 1 cup milk</div><div style="color: black;">1 cup plus 2 tablespoons flour</div><div style="color: black;">2 tablespoons sugar</div><div style="color: black;">2 extra large eggs</div><div style="color: black;">4 tablespoons butter</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">Melt 2 Tablespoons of butter and cool. Put milk, flour, eggs, sugar and pinch of salt in blender and whiz together. Add butter and blend.</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">In an 8-inch nonstick skillet, melt 1 teaspoon butter. Pour a thin layer of batter into skillet and swirl to coat the bottom. Cook over medium heat until little air bubbles appear then turn over and cook 30 seconds more. </div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">Remove crepe from skillet and hold on a warm plate with a dish towel to cover, or in the oven. Serve filled with anything -- we like brown sugar, or thick preserves.</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">Enjoy!</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><br />
<br />
</div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-45357220963447338712011-09-26T18:29:00.000-07:002011-09-26T18:29:52.992-07:00College Cooking 101: Salmon AppetizersGoing to a party? Of course you are. Turn up a notch from nachos.<br />
<br />
Top a cucumber slice with smoked salmon and a schmear of cream whipped with horseradish and fresh pepper.<br />
<br />
Seriously good.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv2-NqdUhO4xlnBdpaIsMrrd_4iODhhsbg-pDRqTwFmffuxPwmKEurYG8f3pqjY4GP1GlR_yo3sDhqVrnG0ECxolai18VBTK3eO4DizG3xb9SziEEYKSPwwAul3vJrUJjQ0ZUjliH6LM0R/s1600/salmon+app.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv2-NqdUhO4xlnBdpaIsMrrd_4iODhhsbg-pDRqTwFmffuxPwmKEurYG8f3pqjY4GP1GlR_yo3sDhqVrnG0ECxolai18VBTK3eO4DizG3xb9SziEEYKSPwwAul3vJrUJjQ0ZUjliH6LM0R/s200/salmon+app.jpg" width="178" /></a></div><div style="color: red;"><br />
</div><div style="color: red;">Smoked Salmon Apps</div><br />
1 cucumber -- the long ones if you can, or 2 regular<br />
1 package smoked salmon<br />
1 cup whipped cream<br />
2 T grated horseradish (usually in the deli section or by produce)<br />
pepper<br />
<br />
Cut cucumber in 1/4-inch rounds and top with shred of salmon just matching its size.<br />
<br />
Whip cream until it forms heavy peaks. Fold in horseradish and pepper. Dollop each app with cream.<br />
<br />
Easy Peasy Lemon Squeezy.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-47660004646812011162011-09-21T19:49:00.000-07:002011-09-21T19:49:55.460-07:00Ramen? Rather Not. College Cooking 101I've been asked by my step-daughter and her roommates to pay particular attention to the cash-strapped, health conscious, college student -- the ones who just raided their homes for outdated colanders, cutting boards and cook pots to outfit apartment kitchens. Who would eat Ramen, but rather not. Who need recipes that are cheap, easy and good. I am assuming that although these are not vain women, food that will not necessitate buying another wardrobe or wearing a tent would be another key feature.<br />
<br />
Here goes.<br />
<br />
First we stocked her spice cabinet --- good salt, fresh pepper, cinnamon, curry, cumin and ground thyme a must -- and bought good knives and real wine glasses (don't worry, they're 21. And you can never learn too early that cheap wine tastes better out of a glass that sits in your hand in a satisfying manner.) She purchased penne and canned vodka sauce, Nutella, olive oil, Balsamic vinegar and good tea (another treat that doesn't break the bank).<br />
<br />
And now she wants to cook. And she's ready.<br />
<br />
Rock this recipe, Boo.<br />
<br />
<div style="color: red;">Chicken Balsamic</div><div style="color: red;"><br />
</div><div style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;">Chicken thighs, 2 per person</span></div><div style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;">balsamic vinegar</span></div><div style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;">salt</span></div><div style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;">garlic, peeled and sliced thin, or mushrooms if desired </span> </div><div style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;">spray oil</span></div><div style="color: red;"><br />
</div><div style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;">Spray a skillet large enough to fit in all your chicken thighs. Spray generously with oil, or use about a tablespoon of olive oil and swirl to coat pan.</span></div><div style="color: red;"><br />
</div><div style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;">If using garlic, sprinkle in bottom of pan with a pinch of sea salt (the thick one) and let cook for a few minutes, or until golden. Flip and add chicken thighs. Cook 5 minutes more, until chicken thigh is browned, then flip chicken. </span></div><div style="color: red;"><br />
</div><div style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;">Have the top of the pan at the ready. Sprinkle with balsamic (I use about 1/3 cup for 8 thighs for 3 people and plenty of leftovers.) If using mushrooms, sprinkle over the top and cover fast. Steam will rise when the balsamic hits the pan and you want to capture it to steam the chicken -- this accounts for the moistness of the dish.</span></div><div style="color: red;"><br />
</div><div style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;">Cook until the chicken reaches at least 160 degrees, turning again to coat the chicken. The vinegar will form a nice thick glaze. (This will be about 5-10 more minutes, depending on how many thighs you've got in there. ( We didn't buy you a meat thermometer? Rats. Sorry. Christmas.)</span></div><div style="color: red;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiONcRm7bwdAxj4N1V555b9vIRs8rCJhHxkvkDEF3EK-2XKn-R0WrFrp6tYM60eOeAbIm8eGB5WkkILKddMtEq_skNgmiXQ_DXymEIP6iN2zQ1oyBKpnaBWlh82DPO9wCnlQblLtnZoQ997/s1600/balsamic+chicken.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiONcRm7bwdAxj4N1V555b9vIRs8rCJhHxkvkDEF3EK-2XKn-R0WrFrp6tYM60eOeAbIm8eGB5WkkILKddMtEq_skNgmiXQ_DXymEIP6iN2zQ1oyBKpnaBWlh82DPO9wCnlQblLtnZoQ997/s320/balsamic+chicken.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></div><div style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;">In this picture it looks pretty brown. I assure you it is food alchemy to turn thighs to prize.</span> <span style="color: black;">I love to serve it on a chilly night with <a href="http://athomewithrealfood.blogspot.com/2010/05/fish-on-monday.html">cauliflower puree</a> and <a href="http://athomewithrealfood.blogspot.com/2011/02/cranberry-pomegranate.html">cranberry sauce</a>. Those are not included in College Cooking 101, but go for it if you want to rock Riverside.</span></div><div style="color: red;"><br />
</div><div style="color: red;">Astound your friends. Befuddle your enemies. Above all, eat good food.</div><div style="color: red;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">Sante.</div><div style="color: red;"><br />
</div><div style="color: red;"><br />
</div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-21576501424376354332011-09-12T11:22:00.000-07:002011-09-12T11:22:48.035-07:00PlentyJuly has been a month of plenty. Plenty of sunshine. Plenty of swimming. Plenty of children, relatives, friends and fireworks. Plenty of berries -- first strawberries, in a season short and sweet, later black raspberries, coaxed by the heat, and now blueberries, bigger than your eye.<br />
<br />
And, in the garden, plenty of herbs. Mint reaching to the sky, just the right height for snapping into a glass of sweet tea. Basil, bushy and fragrant in the breeze that breaks the longest heatwave these parts have seen in 15 years. Leggy cilantro, its feathery plumes heavy with coriander seed that bows its head nearly to the ground.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFIoeaItqQcStTKcUom6CQrJFuFzlYlCRPTytq5MEsuzwKpgkm1AeAzL4u7golWi4fL5O_5XlQu9cU923AILfFAKzf15GcMl6P85kV4N2ymaxj3J03xa7LxtoaqCHayFGkR4T2OL14XbVC/s1600/herb+garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFIoeaItqQcStTKcUom6CQrJFuFzlYlCRPTytq5MEsuzwKpgkm1AeAzL4u7golWi4fL5O_5XlQu9cU923AILfFAKzf15GcMl6P85kV4N2ymaxj3J03xa7LxtoaqCHayFGkR4T2OL14XbVC/s320/herb+garden.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
I fell in love with cilantro at an impressionable age, when it wheeled up on the table side guacamole cart at Rosa Mexicano. We lived about an hour out of Manhattan, and on special occasions my parents would dress up and take us into the city: Rosa Mexicano, with its (then to me) exotic, colorful decor, and Mamma Leone's, with its red sauce and strolling minstrels, were two of our favorites for dinner. Lunch was hands down the Automat, with its booths fashioned like old cars and cafeteria-style comfort food.<br />
<br />
I was all of 8. The gimmicks worked like a charm. But it was the tastes, so unlike the kid-friendly fare my mother turned out -- meatloaf, tuna noodle casserole and hot dog soup (don't ask what was in it. It was delicious) that were the real magic.<br />
<br />
Cilantro, of course, has been around loads longer than that. I have read that Pliny named it, for a bedbug whose stench resembled that of the bitter green smell of crushed cilantro leaves. Its dried seeds are the coriander, found in the burial tombs of ancient Chinese and Egyptians to insure immortality. Hippocrates used it in his medical concoctions, and it got a reputation in the<i> Thousand and One Arabian Nights</i> as an aphrodisiac. Some recommend it for detox and anti-inflammatory properties.<br />
<br />
We can prove little of this, as with most herbal remedies. But all one has to do is compare the before and after of a fish taco complemented with cilantro to make that of little consequence. Cilantro kicks a dish from humdrum to whoohooo in the time it takes to sprinkle it on.<br />
<br />
Take, for instance, this curry chicken. Good enough for a luncheon, its sharp yogurt dressing rounded out with cumin and spiked with scallion. But add cilantro, and presto, with a fresh baguette and a cold rose, its a company meal. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb5d9ZOsU3zUA2PF63XdfCrXpMeg9pVz_2sZnDzrMnDaxGOCkRpUGdRyNMmrHzD7ofFc0fIkbp8m9exYTcqeWZ9gRqoo0rY1jj4MvEkxuX83RstbnOr7jXfMBEj88PQaXaa7xPvGm2m7Ab/s1600/curry+chicken+salad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb5d9ZOsU3zUA2PF63XdfCrXpMeg9pVz_2sZnDzrMnDaxGOCkRpUGdRyNMmrHzD7ofFc0fIkbp8m9exYTcqeWZ9gRqoo0rY1jj4MvEkxuX83RstbnOr7jXfMBEj88PQaXaa7xPvGm2m7Ab/s320/curry+chicken+salad.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="color: red;">Curried Chicken Salad</div><br />
One whole roasted chicken<br />
bunch scallions<br />
red pepper<br />
one cup Greek yogurt (I use fat free but no matter)<br />
Two tablespoons curry powder<br />
One teaspoon ground cumin<br />
one cup chopped cilantro<br />
one tablespoon coconut vinegar or soy sauce<br />
<br />
Shred chicken meat in a bowl and add scallions and red pepper, diced small.<br />
<br />
In a small bowl, mix yogurt, spices and vinegar until combined. Toss with chicken mixture and cilantro.<br />
<br />
Enjoy.Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-29710888373158108232011-06-14T13:45:00.000-07:002011-06-14T13:45:06.115-07:00Tip 17: See redWe had a very cherry Sunday. The trees are laden with the little red bombs, and we pitted three flats in an evening, with lots of talk and tea. Our fruit is sweet enough to eat off the tree, but definitely needs sugar to create dessert fare.<br />
<br />
Problem was, I had no sugar. No refined sugar that is, which every recipe called for. So I improvised, using raw sugar to make flavored simple syrups that sweetened our goods just enough to eliminate pucker. They also added a subtle flavoring that infused the cherries, taking them to dimensions which previously I hadn't prodded them to ascending. I used mint to infuse one simple syrup, from the patch that grows wild in our yard, and lemongrass frozen from last year's monster plant to flavor the other. Any herbs will do; I particularly have a hankering to try a cherry-thyme thingy. That is a technical term.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the more cherries the better. If you know any good recipes, share. Cherries are being touted as the new American superfood, claiming to help arthritis and gout, lower weight and reduce factors for heart disease and diabetes. And cherries supposedly contain melatonin, which helps regulate sleep, prevent memory loss and delay the aging process. My mom and aunt both quaff cherry juice daily, and say it helps their joints.<br />
<br />
And the number one reason to ingest cherries: they taste good.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQPb8UvWBl8G9oAjXXD9LAkxftNzZfKLposZB_W6asj0osyuew7EQ_9aZnxFcyPHcyGpsnmOPLi6buRkUu0c9AYr0K-g0J_XgzKdCNsjZ494V1kHBe7QPi73isfUvGcvBBupbriSqEY0jS/s1600/cherry+lamb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQPb8UvWBl8G9oAjXXD9LAkxftNzZfKLposZB_W6asj0osyuew7EQ_9aZnxFcyPHcyGpsnmOPLi6buRkUu0c9AYr0K-g0J_XgzKdCNsjZ494V1kHBe7QPi73isfUvGcvBBupbriSqEY0jS/s320/cherry+lamb.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span style="color: red;">Cherry Mint compote</span><br />
<br />
2 cups cherries, pitted<br />
handful of mint leaves, shredded<br />
1/2 cup mint simple syrup, below<br />
2 teaspoons cornsyrup<br />
<br />
for the simple syrup:<br />
1 cup water<br />
1/2 cup raw sugar<br />
<br />
2 stalks mint, quartered<br />
<br />
Make the simple syrup: combine ingredients in saucepan and bring to a boil. Simmer 15 minutes very slightly. Let cool on stove. Strain mint out and bottle.<br />
<br />
In a separate pan, combine cherries, simple syrup and mint. Cook until cherries are soft and syrupy, about 20 minutes on low. Take some syrup and stir in 1 teaspoon of cornstarch until smooth. Add back to cherry sauce and let simmer. Repeat if not thick enough.<br />
<br />
Serve with lamb or salmon. Or both.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="color: red;">Cherry Lemongrass Gelato</div><br />
2 cups frozen cherries, pitted<br />
3 cups whole milk<br />
1/2 cup lemongrass syrup<br />
<br />
2 cups water<br />
1 cup sugar<br />
1 stalk of lemongrass<br />
<br />
for the lemongrass syrup: combine ingredients in saucepan and boil. Off heat and simmer 15 minutes very slightly. Let cool on stove. Strain off lemongrass.<br />
<br />
In the Vitamix, combine frozen cherries and lemongrass syrup and blend until smooth. Add milk and blend. Freeze in ice cream freezer according to manufacturer's directions. The mixture made more than the freezer held, so we served it as a smoothie. Also a good choice.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCUUdRKYak-4-F_j5p4i87ioCNY7LUlorBVTedn3twZXD3rm-v7CroJ9_RNJ1TugLWfqUfMlptuKrTryP4LaHSb03ef1rbtMM21iBWZLYa2BznTDkxIvGedyWF1E43ok0m9-0m8lLDCyDF/s1600/cherry+smoothie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCUUdRKYak-4-F_j5p4i87ioCNY7LUlorBVTedn3twZXD3rm-v7CroJ9_RNJ1TugLWfqUfMlptuKrTryP4LaHSb03ef1rbtMM21iBWZLYa2BznTDkxIvGedyWF1E43ok0m9-0m8lLDCyDF/s320/cherry+smoothie.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
Enjoy!Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-34975563956546201722011-06-02T13:27:00.000-07:002011-06-08T07:02:58.493-07:00Kitchen reform tip 16: Grow SomeSo yesterday, on the hottest day of the year thus far, I visited the sun-scorched organic gardens at Airlie conference center, and talked to their creator.<br />
<br />
Pablo Elliot (who majored in African Studies at Vassar) walked me through the organic garden project, which was started 10 years ago to provide food for the center.<br />
<br />
"All the veggies we grow are sissies," he declared, after confiding his plan to build 5 raised beds a day for the next week, for a total of 30. "Tomatoes have to be held up and staked, lettuce hopes for a cooler breeze -- the clay soils here can get very compact, but the raised bed aerates it. It's luxury living for vegetables."<br />
<br />
Elliot's breezy demeanor serves him well as he imparts information to local farmers, amateurs and guests to the sustainable center interested in organic gardening. The garden supplies about 8 percent of the center's food -- he works closely with chefs to grow what they need -- and the rest they source, preferably from other local growers.<br />
<br />
The premise of organic gardening is to create a chemical free environment that is biodiverse enough to keep pests at bay by making the soil as fertile as possible with compost, and planting crops that will complement each other, cutting down on loss. Bugs are encouraged; garden supply chains even sell them.<br />
<br />
To that end, Elliot recommends 3' x 30' beds, small enough to walk around and commune with your plants. "The best fertilizer is the footprint of the farmer," he says. His favorite tool is the broadfork, which pushes about a foot into the soil, then lifts up without turning to aerate the bottom, while leaving the best soil on top. Compost, at a rate of a wheelbarrow full per 100 square feet of bed, is added each season.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFrYuIcocPBTz24sEQ6uPY2vmGpVOjaz6V7diVNfp3hFvZhyphenhyphencPtqbJGTjAO6M6iwFYQXNp3TcWpY6y1bGHHdATreqKvLqoxQICDMQOSBbz4rpBpNe_o0qA3XhiNs03EMlgFcKwTBoaszLt/s1600/pablo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFrYuIcocPBTz24sEQ6uPY2vmGpVOjaz6V7diVNfp3hFvZhyphenhyphencPtqbJGTjAO6M6iwFYQXNp3TcWpY6y1bGHHdATreqKvLqoxQICDMQOSBbz4rpBpNe_o0qA3XhiNs03EMlgFcKwTBoaszLt/s320/pablo.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
"Nothing we do here is rocket science," says Elliot. "I am into simple methods. A farmer once told me, 'Tickle the soil and it laughs with a harvest.' It stimulates soil in a way that microbes feed the plants. Keeping the habitat diverse encourages beneficial insects and birds and pollinators. That's how organic gardening works. You feed the soil, and the soil feeds the plants."<br />
<br />
He does test the soil about once a year; Virginia's clay soils have a low pH and often have to be amended with calcidic lime. But the end result is a thriving garden, full of lettuces, which he staggers in small plantings so the chefs have a constant supply, herbs, potatoes, tomatoes, the summer crops of eggplants, squash and melons, not to mention a fall corn maze. They have a hoop house that allows starting seeds sooner, and extends the growing season for fall greens into cold weather months.<br />
<br />
"We try to transplant as much as possible -- they aren't as delicate as when you start from seeds. The chefs like the little greens but it is a lot of work," he says. One hurdle for organic farmers, he says is getting chefs to recognize that organic produce might have a hole here, a blemish here, that they have to make pretty on the plate."They are into the challenge."<br />
<br />
<div style="color: red;">Mesclun salad with chevre dressing</div><br />
4 - 6 cups mesclun or any salad greens<br />
any vegetables, nuts or dried fruits<br />
<br />
1/2 cup chevre or cottage cheese<br />
1/2 cup dill<br />
2 T skim milk <br />
salt and pepper to taste <br />
<br />
Clean greens and shred into bowl. Whiz cheese and dill in small food chopper. Add milk to thin, salt and pepper to taste.<br />
<br />
Enjoy!Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-65326297012415317532011-05-27T09:52:00.000-07:002011-05-27T10:30:21.933-07:00Kitchen Reform Tip 15: Power saverWhen 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, you don't know what you're missing until it knocks on your door.<br />
<br />
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?<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<div class="mainb2">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:<span class="main"> </span><span class="mainb">"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."</span></div><div class="mainb2"><br />
</div><div class="mainb2"><span class="mainb">More bio-available? Can't argue with that.</span></div><div class="mainb2"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU1398PMUb-dYaWeiCCrgi18T3zgtAghfxaE6UauMDonqI0qOeeprOMWaa6cCMxh_Wn6Nexc_pcgtpj6gHcGgwXR3GJWlbrWcI_-4NvNeCynAcB5XpFaGSP-7QjHkQ2rO_1LhrzPzCQIBc/s1600/zucchni+pad+thai.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU1398PMUb-dYaWeiCCrgi18T3zgtAghfxaE6UauMDonqI0qOeeprOMWaa6cCMxh_Wn6Nexc_pcgtpj6gHcGgwXR3GJWlbrWcI_-4NvNeCynAcB5XpFaGSP-7QjHkQ2rO_1LhrzPzCQIBc/s320/zucchni+pad+thai.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="mainb2"><span class="mainb"> </span></div><div class="mainb2" style="color: red;"><span class="mainb">Raw Thai Ginger "Noodles"</span></div><div class="mainb2"><span class="mainb"><br />
</span></div><div class="mainb2"><span class="mainb">4 medium zucchini</span></div><div class="mainb2"><span class="mainb">1/2 cup chopped cilantro</span></div><div class="mainb2"><span class="mainb">1 cup chopped mint</span></div><div class="mainb2"><span class="mainb">1/2 bunch of spring onion</span></div><div class="mainb2"><br />
</div><div class="mainb2"><span class="mainb">For dressing:</span></div><div class="mainb2"><span class="mainb">1/2 cup coconut, rice or cider vinegar</span></div><div class="mainb2"><span class="mainb"> 1 teaspoon sesame oil</span></div><div class="mainb2"><span class="mainb">2 Tablespoons Tamari or soy sauce</span></div><div class="mainb2"><span class="mainb">1 knob Thai ginger, or galangal, peeled</span></div><div class="mainb2"><span class="mainb">3 stalks lemongrass, bulbs and 2 inches of stalk</span></div><div class="mainb2"><span class="mainb">3 cloves garlic, peeled</span></div><div class="mainb2"><span class="mainb">1/2 lemon</span></div><div class="mainb2"><span class="mainb">salt to taste</span></div><div class="mainb2"><span class="mainb"><br />
</span></div><div class="mainb2"><span class="mainb">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.</span></div><div class="mainb2"><span class="mainb"><br />
</span></div><div class="mainb2"><span class="mainb">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.</span></div><div class="mainb2"><span class="mainb"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="mainb">Garnish with sesame seeds, if desired.</span><br />
<span class="mainb"><br />
</span></div><div class="mainb2"><span class="mainb">Enjoy!</span></div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-64962180879663132672011-05-16T12:19:00.000-07:002011-05-16T17:58:36.282-07:00Kitchen Reform tip 14: OZThe weather is as fickle as an old Dutchess, fragile and foggy one morning, cheerful and sunny another, blowing 100 knots the next. You never know what you'll find in the backyard. Easter Eggs! Iris!<br />
Fox cubs! <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUhrl93a8NILm_bPWzrYT064xMdfMA4zF1Ez8_Jmc4KSfiGyCeFCOXAzPdrRzsxFnDQ8nhfWj-HB-I9DAIxE_YEm8UglMIrq83v239AhUPZ_xad1Fa-S-eDlejFUHVZ3qKUaIt-EQ8NYVM/s1600/duo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUhrl93a8NILm_bPWzrYT064xMdfMA4zF1Ez8_Jmc4KSfiGyCeFCOXAzPdrRzsxFnDQ8nhfWj-HB-I9DAIxE_YEm8UglMIrq83v239AhUPZ_xad1Fa-S-eDlejFUHVZ3qKUaIt-EQ8NYVM/s320/duo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkcBYitCeKFUKi6akTj8QcONJBaJGpW233iep95V7utV09oQ18eOlO_bgFW7fOPGTr8O7PpB6MClN62VuLq5v7tOtJ92Tsi_8noymFA-tKwafmWlCtWbgZj_cucmiPaUw8jPUADqKdhE_K/s1600/foxbaby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkcBYitCeKFUKi6akTj8QcONJBaJGpW233iep95V7utV09oQ18eOlO_bgFW7fOPGTr8O7PpB6MClN62VuLq5v7tOtJ92Tsi_8noymFA-tKwafmWlCtWbgZj_cucmiPaUw8jPUADqKdhE_K/s320/foxbaby.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">there are five!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
But it is colorful. The spirea, digging the warmth, is so drenched in white blossoms it is in a perpetual sun salutation. The dogwood have shed their ivory canopy all over the front walk, making coming home a celebration.<br />
<br />
I am having third spring today. My first was in London in March, where we came from dingy grey Virginia to an explosion of daffodils, green pastures and cherry trees so vivid I felt like Dorothy waking in the land of OZ. The second, in Virginia, came in fits and bits, the crabapples reminding us to open up the windows with its strong, pink scent, the asparagus growing three feet over night, so fast we couldn't eat them all.<br />
<br />
And now here I am up north, the daffodils just coming up for the show, the sun becoming more confident, the wind still whipping waves and flags. It has been so wet everywhere there are whole roads washed out, as if the gravel had a race to the lake.<br />
<br />
You are like the spring fairy, said a friend last night, when I told him this was my third spring in as many months. Why didn't you come sooner? quipped another.<br />
<br />
And it is true; we crave color. Our lives were not meant to be lived in black and white. When we look at old photos, we somehow think of a drabber time, not as much fun as we have now. It can't possibly be true -- I knew my grandparents long enough to know their lives were plenty lively. But black and white makes everything austere, serious.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRioGEAAJ-It1gYFdmIycR9Ed2ibKOi-BM9cZKqs4uB3uEAEZW6TzFyVrkeu_CJ0O3F_SS7FSzxIVl7hu9h0PWZEMeP9qLBV8xxxWwY7242fHdMLCg-_JENw7IE-hlAXMcH7ArizZKIh1N/s1600/beet+n+blue+cheese.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRioGEAAJ-It1gYFdmIycR9Ed2ibKOi-BM9cZKqs4uB3uEAEZW6TzFyVrkeu_CJ0O3F_SS7FSzxIVl7hu9h0PWZEMeP9qLBV8xxxWwY7242fHdMLCg-_JENw7IE-hlAXMcH7ArizZKIh1N/s320/beet+n+blue+cheese.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Even food.<br />
<br />
<div style="color: red;">Beet Salad with coriander dressing and roast pine nuts</div><br />
Boil beets. Sprinkle with cheese, toasted nuts and <a href="http://athomewithrealfood.blogspot.com/2010/11/happy-salmon.html">dressing</a>.<br />
<br />
Enjoy!Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-50193664448014795812011-05-09T05:47:00.000-07:002011-05-09T05:47:07.243-07:00Morels!Again, the lure of the hunt. It's a bit like a mystery, piecing together the why of where you find them. How sunny? Which side of the tree? Under leaf cover, or bare ground? It's an addictive game, with the treasure being edible gold. <br />
<br />
This time, a mountain road, a friend's new property. They haven't even built their house yet, but now we know that every year, around this time, we can wander up into the woods and, in the leaves rustling at the bottom of the tall poplars, sprouting from the lush ferment of the dead elms, we will find them.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxjyHpME-baO0qY92EqQe8pX-CYYNKoHJ0RE6qkZkJvmZHCHhu_EP_ZCP9_9YEuQ5Uj-d4RuTyR6MpAFGrFo3EbdFqA5xCGvi9GoKXOuNiVWWOw-hTciCBF_077sbhYUmvK5UC4CsY9uMj/s1600/morelhaul.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxjyHpME-baO0qY92EqQe8pX-CYYNKoHJ0RE6qkZkJvmZHCHhu_EP_ZCP9_9YEuQ5Uj-d4RuTyR6MpAFGrFo3EbdFqA5xCGvi9GoKXOuNiVWWOw-hTciCBF_077sbhYUmvK5UC4CsY9uMj/s320/morelhaul.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
It's just possible the season is over, and that is a mixed blessing. I won't spend my time foraging in the wood, and will get back to my house, and my desk, and the laundry that is threatening to over take the bathroom.<br />
<br />
In the minus column, I won't spend time foraging in the wood. Losing my self in the zen of their trail, wandering from tree to tree my eyes on the ground, until one leaf looks like another, until the sun dappled forest floor dizzies me like a kaleidoscope. I won't keep my child up to all hours as we cook up the morels and eat them over pasta, over asparagus, drenched in ghee and olive oil.<br />
<br />
Until next year.Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-81167465777029285452011-04-27T19:27:00.000-07:002011-04-27T19:27:00.863-07:00Spring 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. <br />
<br />
She is talking about mushrooms. We are mothers, writers, gardeners and daughters. But today, we are singing to the morels, hoping for a glimpse.<br />
<br />
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...."<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBLjnJiVjryo5sOQrFNv-DaNHXdRnjcxRHTYEaj225_TjZt4cj44ZwXQfDIQmpC10cbobfONqRiEI5gzeMf3APez659auXxlkHO700lvhtI44aaIxYQ0Sg73JMcjgMhruiAnRuNKUZTQ6c/s1600/morel2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBLjnJiVjryo5sOQrFNv-DaNHXdRnjcxRHTYEaj225_TjZt4cj44ZwXQfDIQmpC10cbobfONqRiEI5gzeMf3APez659auXxlkHO700lvhtI44aaIxYQ0Sg73JMcjgMhruiAnRuNKUZTQ6c/s320/morel2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can you see it?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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 <i>tartufi</i>, 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.<br />
<br />
But nothing quite measured up to those local truffles. Until these morels.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWH1AX6tDYQm4Hw07WKhBwbMRFExsxoLSX0l5Ipyfwfqf4RkcTPpqKoY_WgzCMxFIk9PbgLyRQJyNLKnOZyIq0NbamVbxOAvR0ueEIvIM8BiWzcWkw9ETg3DAWKyGL0xCfDwHCMmLwZmT8/s1600/bigfoot+morels.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWH1AX6tDYQm4Hw07WKhBwbMRFExsxoLSX0l5Ipyfwfqf4RkcTPpqKoY_WgzCMxFIk9PbgLyRQJyNLKnOZyIq0NbamVbxOAvR0ueEIvIM8BiWzcWkw9ETg3DAWKyGL0xCfDwHCMmLwZmT8/s320/bigfoot+morels.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the bigfoot morel</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnTQ43MdHD8kSZm93IP4RmBd77LXxYv3chaovbgYggNgFp5i2vfvQ5__k8_znLmHXdm0CPxAVPAIUkSOBzxpiCllawBE2ikeYsZSnBZP-Ti8OA88loFN3hXJzkXApLY_vRiW0NzdYFM5Jy/s1600/morel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnTQ43MdHD8kSZm93IP4RmBd77LXxYv3chaovbgYggNgFp5i2vfvQ5__k8_znLmHXdm0CPxAVPAIUkSOBzxpiCllawBE2ikeYsZSnBZP-Ti8OA88loFN3hXJzkXApLY_vRiW0NzdYFM5Jy/s320/morel.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEoZ6XZnucXtUhyphenhyphenUpM1MF5PWS46lDAJHgUWiYF1SH9Wk5xuBACsnSxhRLMiSyTOb4axfB3q0lYi5pMdq4DC_0deTo88A9L_jsU3sZfPOn5eawA7oQPuAp7a3EQQGoADoSC6jIkGLwuR9WE/s1600/morel+plate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEoZ6XZnucXtUhyphenhyphenUpM1MF5PWS46lDAJHgUWiYF1SH9Wk5xuBACsnSxhRLMiSyTOb4axfB3q0lYi5pMdq4DC_0deTo88A9L_jsU3sZfPOn5eawA7oQPuAp7a3EQQGoADoSC6jIkGLwuR9WE/s320/morel+plate.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div style="color: red;">Morels sauteed in butter</div><br />
one tablespoon butter<br />
one dozen small morels<br />
one garlic, peeled and sliced<br />
slivered parmesan cheese<br />
sea salt<br />
<br />
Heat butter in skillet. add salt to sizzle. toast garlic until softening and golden. Add morels and stir two minutes -- then off the heat.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Pour morels and butter over asparagus.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFchkJNEOKP1VOcvhkcOz6ceDmT8NXlkQgBPkBuTvNC5Z3vqN9jek5IFRdToRarE9x3-74YFjTtKj0BVLcgdM4rNpE-8_rKh0Zt8SEbP4ae45L2wcuwkpQ9IKR9eJVZh4ebwJnLH7wJAVg/s1600/morel+asparagus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFchkJNEOKP1VOcvhkcOz6ceDmT8NXlkQgBPkBuTvNC5Z3vqN9jek5IFRdToRarE9x3-74YFjTtKj0BVLcgdM4rNpE-8_rKh0Zt8SEbP4ae45L2wcuwkpQ9IKR9eJVZh4ebwJnLH7wJAVg/s320/morel+asparagus.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<br />
Prepare to swoon.<br />
<br />
Sante.Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-12608274419420410282011-04-26T09:46:00.000-07:002011-05-16T17:59:26.252-07:00Tip 13: Drink your veggies, part 2Maybe green drinks aren't your thing, or you just can't give up eggs -- it's all good. But if you like the idea of pre-pulverized veggies down the hatch, there's another way.<br />
<br />
Soup.<br />
<br />
Soup is good food. Whether you heard it from Campbell's or the Dead Kennedy's first, you heard it here. Cooking vegetables into soup retains more nutrients than baking or sauteeing, and if you puree them, you're helping your body to digest more of them as well. <br />
<br />
There is something about drinking soup that is healing. And there is something about making soup that is calming too -- first, you can use all the odds and ends in your fridge up; second, you can make it while you are doing other things; third, it makes your house smell like a home; fourth, it is just plain tasty. Satisfying but not weighty. Healthy, but not austere. <br />
<br />
There is a soup for all seasons, and this one is perfect for warm days that turn cool at night, for the time of year you want to shed the hibernating ways but still crave an extra dose of comfort. Carrots provide an of the charts dose of vitamin A, night vision enhancing beta-carotene and help regulate blood sugar. Tests show that a diet containing as little as one carrot a day can cut the rate of lung cancer in half.<br />
<br />
Combine them with curry, celeriac for an anchoring smoothness and ginger for kick, and this is a spring palate in a bowl. Ginger gives it an anti-inflammatory benefit, while aiding digestion. Garlic is a natural antibiotic. Top the whole thing with mint -- another tummy soother -- and you've got a dish beautiful enough for a black tie luncheon date with Bugs Bunny.<br />
<br />
Sound too good to be true?<br />
<br />
Wait until you taste it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilWlu0yBLimOgNK0zCQAdOvjV44sCCjUNPJljQwdkkVLgS82PAWnP1ftbviKIYfFp_Uzc8_ogDeG12EwlTEkV7UaMGocC-9nYjXcfk1_OWooTVUc4WfGiPmqPf-78Qlk8cTX5UqAtlXlbv/s1600/ginger+carrot+soup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilWlu0yBLimOgNK0zCQAdOvjV44sCCjUNPJljQwdkkVLgS82PAWnP1ftbviKIYfFp_Uzc8_ogDeG12EwlTEkV7UaMGocC-9nYjXcfk1_OWooTVUc4WfGiPmqPf-78Qlk8cTX5UqAtlXlbv/s320/ginger+carrot+soup.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="color: red;">Curried Carrot Soup</div><br />
2 Tablespoons grapeseed oil or olive oil<br />
1 lb carrots, preferably organic<br />
1 head of garlic, peeled<br />
1 small onion, peeled and rough chopped<br />
1/2 celeriac root, peeled and rough chopped<br />
1 2-inch knob of ginger, peeled<br />
4 cups vegetable broth<br />
1 tablespoon curry powder<br />
1 teaspoon cornstarch <br />
coarse salt<br />
<br />
Heat oil in heavy stock pan over medium high heat. Add garlic and onions and saute until translucent and beginning to soften. Add a pinch of salt and the curry powder (my favorite is Dean and Deluca blend, I buy it by the tub full). Stir to combine then add ginger, celeriac and carrots, cornstarch and stir again. Roast about 4 minutes to sweat the vegetables and ignite the curry. Add vegetable broth and water if needed to cover vegetables.<br />
<br />
Simmer gently until vegetables are soft, then use an immersion blender or food processor to puree. Season to taste with salt and pepper, if you wish, and top with chopped mint.<br />
<br />
Enjoy!Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-35259734156350469752011-04-20T09:37:00.000-07:002011-04-21T06:29:39.475-07:00Kitchen Reform Week 12: Drink Your VeggiesWe are a nation of carnivores. And corn-ivores -- being that much of the diet we exist on (snack foods, colas, sweets) is derived somehow from corn.<br />
<br />
I have news for you, however: corn that has been smashed into syrup doesn't count as a vegetable. Besides, there's more than corn in High Fructose Corn Syrup (so ubiquitous we've given it a monogram, HFCS): Yellow Dent #2, a corn that yields a lot of starch, sulphuric acid (a corrosive whose principle uses are lead-acid batteries for cars, mineral and wastewater processing), and three ingredients that end in -ase and come in bottles with large Xs on them. I found this out by watching a couple of dudes try to make it at home: <a href="http://www.movieweb.com/movie/king-corn/making-high-fructose-corn-syrup">check it out</a>.<br />
<br />
HFCS is not our BFF.<br />
<br />
The statistics on consumption of fruits and vegetables in this country are astounding. Less than a third of us are eating fruit daily, and that has actually decreased in this century. And only about a quarter of us eat vegetables daily. New England, Florida, the West Coast and Colorado top the list -- but that means that upwards of 15 % of the population consume fruits and veg. In Oklahoma, Mississippi, Alabama and South Carolina less than 5 % of people consume fruits and veg daily. The rest fall somewhere in the middle. That means 10-14% of people are eating F&V daily. This can only end poorly, with a crushing health care crisis our children will have to clean up -- that is, if they aren't too sick themselves.<br />
<br />
So if there is one thing you can do today to up your health quotient, it is eat more vegetables. Better yet, drink them.<br />
<br />
Green drinks are simply the best way to get the nutrients without the work of digestion, the calories used to prepare them, and the time it takes to eat them. Zip 'em in a blender, down them and go. You can tailor them to your energy needs, your mood, the weather -- your options are endless.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8UzHdPtywoWmyZhyOhhQ4kd69uyxCyNRTzT__kzbBaQr1lgxVEnTOCKHz6dHnpnZimLYBZuwEmQBT-3EQPOL0awaMjj0V9ptRRcpekoMBFbVQ96sE4RSOQjkeYioibKi5rX7ZryJSl1I3/s1600/green+drinks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8UzHdPtywoWmyZhyOhhQ4kd69uyxCyNRTzT__kzbBaQr1lgxVEnTOCKHz6dHnpnZimLYBZuwEmQBT-3EQPOL0awaMjj0V9ptRRcpekoMBFbVQ96sE4RSOQjkeYioibKi5rX7ZryJSl1I3/s320/green+drinks.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
The basic recipe for a smoothie includes protein, fruit (for sweetness), vegetable, nutrient additives, liquid and ice, if you wish -- just a handful of cubes can really thicken it up. Here are a few of my favorite ingredients for smoothies:<br />
<br />
Vegetables: Ginger, spinach, cucumber, fennel, kale (not too much, it can be stringy) (about two cups)<br />
<br />
Nutrient additives: maca powder (no more than 1 Tablespoon a day), ginseng (a few drops), hemp seed, (about a teaspoon), cinnamon, chia seeds, raw cocoa powder, nutmeg, honey, agave.<br />
<br />
Liquids: almond milk, coconut water, tap water. (about a cup total)<br />
<br />
Fruits: Whole if you have a blender that can take it, like a Vita-Mix; I do not so I chunk and freeze fruit to make the smoothie thick and creamy. Frozen banana chunks, frozen pear chunks, frozen pineapple chunks, any berries or melon. Anything goes. (about a 1/2 cup serving)<br />
<br />
Fats: Avocado, almond butter, hemp -- and the last two also add protein.<br />
<br />
I also sometimes cheat and use prepared powders to add protein and vegetables, my favorite for protein is Wegmans vanilla whey powder, and the green powder I like now is Amazing Grass.<br />
<br />
So do anything you like with it -- here's what I do in the mornings, more or less.<br />
<br />
<div style="color: red;">Green Breakfast Smoothie</div><br />
1 cup almond milk<br />
2 handfuls baby spinach<br />
1 knob ginger root, peeled<br />
squirt of ginseng<br />
fennel, about 1/3 of a bulb<br />
cucumber, a few inches <br />
scoop green powder<br />
scoop whey powder<br />
1 teaspoon hemp seed<br />
1/2 banana frozen<br />
1 cup water <br />
6 ice cubes<br />
<br />
Blend until smooth. Serves two.<br />
<br />
If you don't want green, skip the powder and the spinach, add a frozen mango and go with the vanilla shake. Or a chocolate (which is my lunch, so excuse me while I go make it.)<br />
<br />
Sante!Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-46015588292859209922011-04-19T06:11:00.000-07:002011-04-19T06:11:32.927-07:00Poached CauliflowerSo halfway through this mini-cleanse and I have to say, it's really a breeze. Lots of water with lemon, miso and fruit when desperate; brown rice cooked with vegetable broth for body and veggies. Mounds of veggies. Steamed, for the most part, but tonight I got out a cauliflower, and it was just lovely. White as the caps of waves, and with just as much lovely texture.<br />
<br />
Its beauty seduced me. I decided to cheat, just a little bit. After all, today I went to a luncheon and sat for two hours eating only a glass of water, two slices of steamed zucchini, and a leaf of lettuce. That is to say, all the food in three courses that was not either breaded or sauced. (Disclaimer: it was fun. Had it been a snoozer I would have been eating my own arm. Or the pound cake.)<br />
<br />
It just reminds me how utterly hard it is to eat completely clean, unless you are at home with total control of your own menu destiny. A bit of oil for sauteeing, a pinch of sugar to mask tartness, a smidge of butter for finishing -- these add up. Mostly on our hearts, and our hips.<br />
<br />
Anyway, when I got home I was ravenous. So I set to making a feast that would stay within my bounds -- a clean feast. I cooked brown rice (I love the Lundberg Farms short grain organic brown rice) in vegetable broth, adding water when the pot dried up before the rice was done. The result was a nutty, fat kernel that stuck close to its buddies for a dense spoonful. And for the cauliflower, well, steaming seemed a little boring. Granted, the cauliflower is a complacent vegetable. Which is not to say it can't be coaxed, dressed up into a silky swirl. But it is also happy to sit plainly on the couch. It doesn't mind a bit what people think of it -- I guess it's the years of being underrated and misunderstood. I, however, wasn't brooking boring. Not today.<br />
<br />
I know, I know. It's supposed to be austere. I stink at this. But listen. It's not so bad as you think.<br />
<br />
I didn't saute. I didn't even reach for the spray oil. Instead, I poached the cauliflower in vegetable broth and a wee pinch of curry. I added a handful of peeled garlic cloves, which I mashed when soft to bind the cauliflower. For salt I substituted lemon zest.<br />
<br />
So I live to notch another day CLEAN -- though I will totally make this when not. And the whole family ate it, which means it gets bonus points. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNrlBe3BEFMy4rT4qG8P2KRF0qdiQgfifisaXWs6d5xdkkuxUu1qNSvY3udJjGaPMMZ91jbYFg63-zWOqM9-SO3vWCD9kni7fZsUB4i8-S_TxCVL6Rr4yqGV2EEBUHTudIIXbmml1W2Jvq/s1600/poached+cauliflower+curry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNrlBe3BEFMy4rT4qG8P2KRF0qdiQgfifisaXWs6d5xdkkuxUu1qNSvY3udJjGaPMMZ91jbYFg63-zWOqM9-SO3vWCD9kni7fZsUB4i8-S_TxCVL6Rr4yqGV2EEBUHTudIIXbmml1W2Jvq/s320/poached+cauliflower+curry.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="color: red;"><br />
</div><div style="color: red;">Poached Cauliflower</div><br />
One head of cauliflower, separated<br />
1 cup vegetable broth<br />
dash of curry<br />
dash of lemon zest<br />
handful of peeled garlic cloves<br />
<br />
In a small stock pan, combine broth and curry; whisk to mix well. Add cauliflower and garlic. Simmer over low heat until cauliflower falls apart, about 30 minutes. Garlic will be smooth enough to smash with the back of a spoon; do so. Stir lemon zest into smashed garlic and cauliflower, which should cause it to fall to bits. <br />
<br />
Serve over brown rice with bits of fresh pineapple, making your plate oddly yellow in its entirety. For taste as well as zip, if you like, a spoonful of plain yogurt and a sprinkle of cilantro wouldn't be amiss. Nor would a few cashews, though I can't put as much as a toe on that slippery slope.<br />
<br />
Sante.Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-20565727896210624372011-04-13T07:03:00.000-07:002011-05-16T17:59:56.031-07:00Tip Eleven: Go with your GutThis 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. <br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.)<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Happy Monday, gut.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjllCM7BiR_fd5byLYdoaKhyUZZrEBaCNU90zNyKaXJwqUyQwqgmyJ7M6cGKBVIeSoRgE_XK-ea2JTBVxsEG0MUkJ6ZPbLYSQhQHWZra3IZuH_KFiqYQE5EZq6RogsXW8600zJg7Ltz_hhz/s1600/pineapple+salad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjllCM7BiR_fd5byLYdoaKhyUZZrEBaCNU90zNyKaXJwqUyQwqgmyJ7M6cGKBVIeSoRgE_XK-ea2JTBVxsEG0MUkJ6ZPbLYSQhQHWZra3IZuH_KFiqYQE5EZq6RogsXW8600zJg7Ltz_hhz/s320/pineapple+salad.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-75110985469158470282011-04-11T08:42:00.000-07:002011-04-13T18:32:09.105-07:00Salmon and SoccaYesterday, just as I was thinking that I was totally uninspired to make dinner, I got a call from a friend asking for chickpea flour.<br />
<br />
I just happened to have some.<br />
<br />
Socca, she said. Have you made it?<br />
<br />
And why else would I have chickpea flour?<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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 <a href="http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9E05E6D7153FF93AA25753C1A9639C8B63">Mark Bittman</a>, I topped it with everything. Shrimp, rosemary, a drizzle of walnut oil...my tastebuds remembered.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpcpuM3ONvPxHHJbb_VD8vAf7pFEmluoZm6JmMFfO82f0sllkpOudXOzEq3rQzqBma72Xoz9asn3HbYDxUMytF41GrwgFtNMQdLdaFD3Unxd1IZIUdoqpsyCsQXv9fd5_4uIROkCtMFAL_/s1600/salmon+socca.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpcpuM3ONvPxHHJbb_VD8vAf7pFEmluoZm6JmMFfO82f0sllkpOudXOzEq3rQzqBma72Xoz9asn3HbYDxUMytF41GrwgFtNMQdLdaFD3Unxd1IZIUdoqpsyCsQXv9fd5_4uIROkCtMFAL_/s320/salmon+socca.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div style="color: red;">Socca</div><br />
1 cup chickpea flour<br />
1 cup water<br />
2 tablespoons olive oil<br />
1/2 teaspoon sea salt<br />
1/2 teaspoon black pepper<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
Or, cut in triangles and dip into green saag, below.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="color: red;">Green Saag</div><br />
4 cloves of garlic, peeled<br />
2 inch knob of ginger. peeled<br />
1 bunch broccoli rabe<br />
2 handfuls of spinach<br />
sea salt<br />
olive oil<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Enjoy!Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3028208249791643165.post-90885934082404197452011-04-05T08:06:00.000-07:002011-05-16T18:00:16.198-07:00Tip Ten: Go FishAs the fields green up, there's an accompanying feeling of lightening. Moods, attitudes, and schedules stretch out their kinks and flex to accommodate a smile, or a bike ride instead of a nap.<br />
<br />
For me, that has somewhat mystifyingly left me at odds with my usual diet. I eschew meat in favor of an orange, or asparagus. I load up on apples and cashews for snacks. I reach for Vino Verde, or Pellegrino, instead of Cabernet.<br />
<br />
Fish jumps into this gap nicely. While it may be lighter it is a solid healthy choice, for fish is also loaded with omega-3 fatty acids, now the poster child for good fats.<br />
<br />
According to a study from the Mayo Clinic: "Omega-3 fatty acids may decrease triglycerides, lower blood pressure, reduce blood clotting, boost immunity and improve arthritis symptoms, and in children may improve learning ability. Eating one to two servings a week of fish, particularly fish that's rich in omega-3 fatty acids, appears to reduce the risk of heart disease, particularly sudden cardiac death."<br />
<br />
Fatty fish, such as salmon, tuna and herring, seem to have the highest amounts of omega-3s. Saltwater fish in general have higher levels than freshwater fish, but some varieties of trout have relatively high levels as well. Wild fish have been shown to have higher levels of healthy Omega-3s than farmed fish, which have been shown to have higher levels of pro-inflammatory omega-6 fats.<br />
<br />
It's not just heart health that benefits. By strengthening insulin sensitivity, omega 3 fatty acids can decrease belly fat and build muscle, which in turn burns more calories. The US Army is currently studying whether supplementing soldiers' diets with fish oil capsules will improve their health, cognitive function and mood.<br />
<br />
Of course, there is a downside to eating fish: industrial pollution in oceans, lakes and streams can infiltrate their food, causing toxins such as mercury, dioxins and PCBs to build up in the fish. The toxins are heat-stable, which means that no amount of cooking can decrease levels of toxicity. In fact, some preparations, such as frying, can make fish unhealthy. <br />
<br />
To reap the benefits without the troubles, choose wild fish, when you can. And if you can't get fresh, well, don't fret. My friend Sharon, a writer, motorcycle mama and one of the most holistic people I know, once opened a can of salmon when a bunch of us were at her apartment talking writing. She mashed it with lemon and a dollop of mayonnaise, then hit it with salt and pepper. We ate it with forks. I recently opened a can of Whole Foods brand wild red Alaskan salmon, and it was delicious -- rich, oily and not at all fishy. It was a great counterpoint to a citrusy salad, an easy lunch.<br />
<br />
<div style="color: red;">Canned salmon with arugula and red pepper</div><br />
1/2 can wild salmon<br />
1 T rice vinegar<br />
wasabi (if you can't get fresh, load up on packets that come with sushi -- just one is generally enough to spice a dressing)<br />
2 T orange juice<br />
two handfuls of arugula<br />
1/2 a red pepper<br />
sea salt<br />
<br />
Thinly slice red pepper and put over arugula on a plate. Toss OJ, wasabi and vinegar, add a sprinkle of brown sugar if you prefer sweet to tart. Add salmon to plate and douse all with dressing, season with salt to taste.<br />
<br />
Enjoy!Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10415107829064780877noreply@blogger.com0