The Virtues of Being a Follower

Blogger.com has this cool feature where you can declare your love publicly for Armchair Foodie, as well as staying apprised of all my posts via your own blog's dashboard.  Just click on "Follow This Blog" to the right to become a True Follower.  Come on, everyone's doing it.  Ok, well my mom and my sister-in-law are.  But they're both two very happening chicks.

Soul Food

Happy Holidays, Friends.

The following is my very first explicitly NON-food-related post.  In the interest of proving my total devotion to a life lived through food, I had vowed not to jibber jabber off-topic.  But I just returned from a trip where I had a life-changing experience, not in a restaurant, but in a tiny apartment in a downtown Vancouver high-rise where there is a business called, of all things, Smile Thai Massage.  Don't let the simply optimistic name (or the potentially smarmy combination of the words "Smile" and "Massage") distract you.

In the hands of Austin Sakchai you will find yourself... reborn.  If you should find yourself in Vancouver, treat yourself to the best (and, if you can believe it, least expensive) massage of your life.  Just in case you didn't catch the hint or two, find his web site here.

And, to get you in the mood for Vancouver, here's a cool shot I took from Stanley Park.  

Stir Crazy Days

This is my default outfit for the last week.  I told you I wasn't going to show it, but it's become so part of my every day life that it just didn't seem right to hold out on you any longer.  Though the mannish snow pants were strategically cropped from the picture.  Anyway, I've got another snow day from work tomorrow.  The freeway is closed.  My grandma in Wilsonville had to cancel her holiday travel plans to my mom's house, leaving both of them vastly disappointed.  My own trip (romantic getaway to Vancouver followed by a couple days visiting my sister Claire in Seattle),  scheduled for Wednesday, is starting to look dicey.  This weather is starting to be a bit of a bummer, my friends.  I keep telling myself it's really not that bad, but then when I think of Adam driving on the freeway at five o'clock tomorrow morning and I break into a cold sweat, I realize that I have been slightly kidding myself.

And to top it all off, we've been stuffing our gullets with carbs galore.  It must be that cold-phobic, nesting instinct kicking in full force because my meals have consisted of a multitude of flour- and lipid-based products; today alone we had pancakes, cheese and crackers, spaghetti, and cookies.  So by the time dinner rolled around, it was definitely time for something decent. 

Enter the vegetarian's friend, Seitan.  For those of you who have never heard of it, it's a form of wheat gluten that, like tofu, complements the flavors of whatever you cook it with.  Unlike tofu, it has a slightly tougher, chewier texture and in the words of Adam, "Mmm!  It takes like chicken!"  Sorta looks like it too:
After sauteing it with some onions, shallots, and garlic for a few minutes in olive and sesame oils, I added chopped kale and purple cabbage.  Pretty colors:
I popped a lid on the pan for 5 or 10 minutes so the veggies would steam themselves, and then stirred in a sauce consisting of the seitan's juices (reserved), some cornstarch dissolved in water, soy sauce, fish sauce, chili flakes, and pepper.  Served over rice with a splash of sesame seeds on top, it really turned into a "chicken" stir fry to write home about.  If the local postal service weren't shut down, that is.
P.S. I started a new infusion today.  I had all these lemons that I was going to bring to a meeting for work (as garnishes for sparkling water) but it was cancelled because of the weather.  Luckily I had a bit of vodka left and luckily I didn't know what the hell else to do with the lemons, and so in a few days I'll have a zinger of an alcoholic beverage to enjoy in front of the woodstove.  I added some sugar too, to see if I can make it taste like Limoncello.

Cold Day, Hot Food

This is my backyard right now.  Actually, the snow is about twice as deep now as it was when this picture was taken this morning.  Also, that very excellent looking icicle is no longer with us because I discovered today that Adam has somewhat of a compulsion about wrenching off icicles.  As soon as one forms on the eaves of the house, he pulls it off.  The things we learn about the people we love.

Anyway, when weather like this hits, making soup is pretty much required and as luck would have it, I didn't even have to set foot in the snow for it.  If you don't already know it by now, discovering that I just by chance have the ingredients for a cool dish without having to shop is one of the GREATEST things EVER.  So, the presence of a two-pound bag of carrots in the fridge dictated what kind of soup it would be...  
If you should find your backyard full of snow and your fridge full of carrots any time soon, here's what to do.  Wash and roughly chop the carrots (a recipe I was taking inspiration from suggested that I peel them, but I was not about to waste my time with that).  Throw them in a pot with 3 or 5 cups of water, and a quartered potato if you've got it.  Set it boiling, then simmer, covered, till the veggies are tender.
Meanwhile, roughly chop up a cup's worth of onion and/or shallots and saute them in some olive oil.  In a few minutes, add a few cloves of crushed garlic and saute a little longer.  Don't get fancy with your chopping-- it's all going in the blender in a few minutes.  When they're soft, add a few teaspoons salt, and the herbs and seasonings of your choice.  I added cumin, oregano and a little curry powder.  

Transfer the carrots, potato, water and the onion/garlic/herb mixture to a blender and puree.  Unless your blender is industrial-sized, you will need to do this in batches.  Return the lot to the pot and taste.  Adjust seasonings as needed.  Garnish with any fresh herbs you have lying around-- I happened to have my favorite, cilantro.  If no herbs, try some pumpkin or sesame seeds.  If no seeds, good old fashioned salt and pepper will also do the trick.
According to the weather forecast we are due for a blizzard this weekend, so Adam and I stocked up on other comfort foods to enjoy once the soup is gone: homemade tamales from a co-worker, good old spaghetti with tomato sauce and garlic bread, breakfast burritos, pancakes... maybe we'll fit a few carbs in there somewhere too.  Kidding.  More to come from the winter weekend kitchen...

Ghee, this is good.

Hi Honies!!!  I'm home...

Sheesh, I can't believe it's been so long since I last posted.  But cut me a break, my (probably few) remaining devoted readers: it's the holidays, which, even if you're a bigger grinch than the Grinch, really throw a wrench into the schedule of daily life.  Luckily I'm not a grinch, so I don't mind the alterations; I even like them, most of the time.  I even don't mind the several inches of snow we've been showered with over the last few days, though I certainly don't intend to include any photos of myself in my snow gear (hint: this outfit conceals any indication of my gender).

I have been cooking though, and am especially thrilled about the recipe I am posting today, "South Indian Prawns in Coconut."  Before I give you the details, let me plug its cookbook for a sec.  Don't let the Smarmy-Used-Car-Dealer title fool you; The Classic 1,000 Indian Recipes contains the recipes for utterly authentic Indian food, and I can tell this in two ways.  1. Last week I made two dishes from this book that rivaled some of the best Indian food I've eaten in restaurants.  2. The recipes contain ingredients that you're only going to find in either a really good American ethnic grocery store, or in a standard grocery store... in Bombay.  Black mustard seeds.  Asafoetida.  Black cardamom pods.  Gingelly oil.  Jaggery.  Luckily this recipe suffered not in the slightest from a few missing ingredients.

2 lb. cooked, peeled prawns (just get the frozen bagged kind; it still tastes great)

1 tsp. turmeric

5 Tbsp. coconut milk (I used about double this amount-- your call)

1 cup shredded coconut 

2 Tbsp. coriander seeds (I only had ground)

1 Tbsp. cumin seeds

1 large or 2 small dried red chilies 

1/4 tsp. black peppercorns (I pestled them)

1 Tbsp. black mustard seeds (if you can find them!!)

2 tsp. tamarind concentrate (ibid)

1 red onion, roughly chopped

5 cloves garlic, roughly chopped or crushed

1 inch ginger root, roughly chopped

3 Tbsp. water

3 Tbsp. oil

2 fresh curry leaves (if you can find them)

2 Tbsp. chopped fresh cilantro

Mix together the prawns, turmeric and salt and set aside for ten minutes.  Puree the cocunut milk, coconut, coriander and cumin seeds, chilies, peppercorns, mustard seeds, tamarind, onion, garlic and ginger to a paste, adding water if necessary.

Heat the oil and fry the puree for 10 minutes, stirring continuously.  Stir in the prawns and curry leaves and simmer for 10 minutes.  

Garnish with the cilantro and serve hot with rice.  

My revelation about this dish and another one I made from this book ("Chickpeas in Sauce"), is that the thick, fragrant sauce that most Indian dishes are composed of is made from pureed onions and garlic!  If that's your base then no wonder FLAVOR is the name of the game.

Scenes from a Thanksgiving Kitchen

What a Crock

For my first crock pot recipe, I tried something on the sweeter side: Rice Pudding.  Heretofore a recipe most commonly used when there was at least 2 cups of leftover rice (already cooked) sitting in the fridge, I've now got a recipe that calls for raw rice, which takes a lot longer to cook in a slow cooker, and which means you can leave the house while it simmers.  My recipe is also a lot healthier than the ones that call for condensed milk, cream, or eggs.  Now that I think about it, it's actually vegan.  But don't let that stop you: it's quite rich and delicious.

3/4 c. short grain rice (you could even try brown)

3 c. soy milk (try vanilla-flavored if you've got it)

1/4 c. white sugar

1 1/2 tsp. vanilla

3/4 tsp. salt

2 cinnamon sticks, or ground cinnamon to taste.

Put all ingredients into crock pot, stir well.  Cook on low for 2 1/2 hours, stirring once or twice if you're around.  And be careful: as is the case with regularly cooked rice, if you leave it on too long, you can over do it.  I was out running errands and came home to find my rice pudding quite firm and a tiny bit scorched on the sides.  It's still delicious, but I'll keep a better eye on it next time.  Enjoy for breakfast, dessert, or snack, chilled or warmed in the microwave.

Turkey Needs a Drink

Check out my latest science experiment: cranberry-infused vodka.  I spent a month fretting about those peaches, infusing and turning progressively browner with each day, and imagining that the whole thing would end up in the compost heap.  But last weekend I spent several hours filtering the stuff and once the peaches were dumped, the remaining spirits were clear and a lovely peach hue.  And more importantly, it tastes great!  Especially mixed with orange juice or lemonade.

So I started another small batch to share with my Thanksgiving company, this time with cranberries.  You know, in the holiday spirit and whatnot.  Check out the top photo, taken immediately after combining the alcohol with the crushed berries.  And the next photo is taken about five days later.  The vodka is a bright, zippy red and the cranberries look like maraschino cherries (yuck).  I added a little bit of simple syrup to this one, since cranberries are so sour.  I wonder what kinds of cocktails I should make with it.  Any suggestions?

On Being Loved

This afternoon I came home from my first professional conference.  Like many conferences that you hear about or see in movies, it was put on by an organization with a long and easy-to-forget acronym (AAWCC), and it's held at an airport hotel in one of those large, beige ballrooms.  But it was actually wonderful and action-packed.  AAWCC stands for the American Association of Women in Community Colleges, and surrounding myself with hundreds of women in my field was inspiring, motivating, and fun.  Some of the women there were total powerhouses, and they served as not-too-subtle reminders that it is imperative that I follow in their footsteps.  Not only for self-gratifying purposes, but because the country desperately needs well-qualified people leading its public schools.  Did you know that the United States is the only country where there is a regressive attainment of college degrees?  In other words, people are getting fewer degrees than their parents got.  In other words, we are getting less educated.  Which is not the case for any other developed nation.  

So I drove home with my colleague-- like me, a young, starry-eyed and ambitious lass-- and we spent the whole time figuratively, excitedly, rolling up our sleeves for the arduous careers ahead of us.  

And what did I find waiting for me?  Love and friendship coming at me on all sides.  Whoever said that there is no rest for the weary must not have been lucky enough to have loved ones.  For one, my sweet Adam had gone grocery shopping and cooked a lovely and healthy meal for us, consisting of stuffed roasted bell peppers and steamed artichokes.  You can see him below, chopping away.  Check out his new buzz cut!

And prior to that, I came home from a dog walk to find this lovely Crock Pot sitting on my front doorstep!  It came from my new friend Lynne, who had mentioned earlier in the week that she had seen a couple of these handy appliances on sale on our local classified webpage.  What with my plans for the conference and a day of feeling under the weather, I wasn't able to respond to the seller and figured I'd probably lose out.  But lucky me!  I've got a friend, a Crock Pot fairy, who doesn't want me missing out on a winter full of stews and soups.  So if you've got any good Crock Pot recipes, please let me know.  

The Existential Mess. Dirty Dishes.

Well, it has been a day.  When I imagine my best self-- you know, that productive, talented person that each of us wishes to be and somehow imagines we will become-- I picture a Saturday spent reading copiously, writing semi-copiously, and then procuring in a mere twenty minutes the dinner of a lifetime.  I'm sure you all have your own best imagined selves too.  Maybe you spend three hours in the garden on the ideal weekend day, or perfect your latest screen print, or paint the deck of your boat.  And these projections get so near to our hearts don't they, so important to our senses of self, that when we realize that we are not spending our spare time quite realizing our ambitions, it can be a bit of a crushing blow.

I received that blow a little bit today.  I don't read a book a weekend, and I haven't brought myself to write the sparkling, social commentary-saturated book reviews that I visualize myself being so good at.  But life was wearing big cushy boxing glove because when it hit me that there are probably not enough hours or days to accomplish every item on the Great To-Do List, it then occurred that I might spend my energy enjoying what I do do.  I mean, in other words, life is too short to fret over unattained goals.    

And so what did I do today?  I cooked!

First, Adam and I whipped up a batch of pumpkin chocolate chip muffins.  They are seriously easy, sinfully good, and outrageously fattening.  2 cups of sugar and 1 1/4 c. vegetable oil!  But worth every drop.  Anyway I've heard that applesauce is a good substitute for oil.  But as you can see, I've never bother with such healthy shortcuts.  Case in point: you see that round maroon mound on the bottom of the above photo?  My belly.  Find the recipe here.
Later, after finding three cookbooks on my front doorstep, thanks to a gift certificate to Amazon courtesy of my lovely Grandma, I got inspired to go whole hog and just spend the rest of the evening in the kitchen.  Without the hog, of course.
I wish this red chard translated better on screen.  It was a glistening ruby bouquet.  Inspired by Alice Waters and her Chez Panisse Vegetables, I sauteed some shallots, and then tossed in the chopped chard and braised it, covered, over medium heat for twenty minutes.  When it was done it got a little squeeze of lemon, salt, and pepper, but that's all.
Meanwhile, at the direction of Mollie Katzen in her famous Moosewood Cookbook, which it has taken me five years as a vegetarian to finally buy, I made mushroom strudel and was inordinately pleased by how easy it is to make something with filo pastry dough.  Or is it phyllo?  Katzen spells it filo, the box said phyllo.  Tomato, tomahto.

Saute chopped mushrooms, and mix them with goodies like cottage cheese, yogurt, dill, scallions, bread crumbs, lemon juice, etc. and roll it all up in a log.  Bake, and then slice, as below:
Notice how the chard looks almost black.  Quite a meal.  I'll probably make a few adjustments to the filo next time I cook with it-- you need more oil between "leaves" than you'll probably want to use in order to avoid a thick, cardboard-like material; and next time I won't spend so much time draining the precious juices from the mushrooms, like Katzen directed me.  But, as you can see, the campers were happy.  And there were muffins for dessert.

So, life is short.  If I can't review novels for the New York Times, then I'll review cookbooks and my imagination for my blog.  I'm already happy anyway, so it's all the same.

Frustrated Foodie

Aaargh!!!  I've been trying to upload some apple pie pictures for the last few days, and Blogger is really letting me down.  Every time I select the file to upload, the little wheel just spins and spins ad infinitum until I give up and close the window.  I've started saving the photos much smaller (ie, fewer pixels) so I know it can't be a size issue.

What should I do?  All you techies out there, help!  I'll reward you with some sumptuous pictures of homemade apple pie.

Perhaps I need to start looking for a new host....

How to Clean Out Your Fridge Without Making Soup; Or, Casseroles 101; Or, If You Need To Fake It, Bake It

Some people are just cuckoo for soup.  Not me.  I did make soup this season as my faithful readership knows.  It even came out good, not to mention served as a perfect final resting place for some celery that was really starting to confound me.  But, there's something about soup that's just so insubstantial.  So... thin.  I like to chew my food.  So imagine my happy surprise when I discovered that a casserole is just as perfect a place for all the random tidbits in the fridge as soup is.  Even more perfect, really, if you're like me and don't love to drink your meals.  So the above three pictures are examples of casseroles I've made over the past couple weeks-- some were loosely inspired by recipes, but all were made mostly with what I already had on hand.  By the time I got to casserole #3, I was so intrigued by the possibility of baking something delicious without doing ANY shopping, that I deliberately stayed away from the store, even though I might have thought it would benefit from some this or some that.  Self-reliance, people.  That's what we're going for here.

Casserole #1: Rice (pre-cooked), crumbled tofu, chopped kalamata olives, spinach, some kind of cheese (I forget), a couple eggs for a binder, and chopped red onions and toasted chopped almonds both inside and reserved for garnish.  Except for the garnish, mix all of the above and bake in a large dish till crispy and golden.  This one got high marks for flavor, but low marks for moisture.  Next time I'll add another egg, maybe some milk.  

Casserole #2: This really is no different from potatoes au gratin, so I won't trouble you with how to make it, since there are probably several thousand such recipes available on the internet.  Three things I did somewhat creatively, and that I'd recommend: use Fontina cheese (a whole wedge of it, half mixed with the milk and poured in with the sliced potatoes, and the other half sprinkled on top 3/4 of the way through baking); season it with pestled cumin seeds; and garnish it with salsa.  It was a gorgeous, Latin rendition of a classic American dish.

Casserole #3: This one was by far the best, and I'm most proud of it because it was based on no recipe whatsoever, and like I said, I refused to shop for it.  Last night I prepped everything: I made 2 cups (uncooked) rice.  And the best way to make rice is to start out sauteing onions and garlic, then add the rice and water and prepare as usual.  I roasted chopped carrots and, after 15minutes, added green beans to the pan.  In a separate pan I roasted large chunks of tomatoes.  I went to bed.  

Then tonight when I got home from work, I put the rice in a huge bowl and dumped in all the roasted veggies (WITH juices!).  I whisked two eggs with about a half cup of sawdust parmesan (like I said, I refused to go to the store), a half cup of milk, some cumin, oregano, s&p, and then stirred that in with the rice and vegetables.  When the mixture is uniform, spoon it into your baking dish (which I deliberately hadn't washed after roasting the carrots and green beans in it).  Sprinkle with Panko and more parmesan.  Bake at 375 till golden!  Oh, man it was good.  Due to the roasted tomatoes and parmesan, it was faintly redolent of pizza, but is there anything wrong with that?

And just as an aside, I have to point out this tomato (see below).  This came from one of Adam's coworker's gardens, and I used it on the 4th of NOVEMBER.  This is a very late tomato, my friends.  It's an Election Day tomato.  Notice, too, how the tomato is in the shape of a heart.  As in, I (heart) Obama. 

Open Fridges Down Under

Hi Friends,

Check out the latest blog post of Confessions of a Food Nazi.  She has rounded up everybody's fridge photos, including that of Yours Truly.  Pretty Cute!

Love,

Megan.

P.S.  Don't forget to V-O-T-E tomorrow!!!

Autumn's Up

When I got home from work this evening I was knocked squarely in the face with the full force of fall.  A crisp bike commute and the fact that it's Halloween did no little work to invigorate me to the season of spices and woodsmoke, so I went inside to get my camera and came back out to just sort of roll around in the leaves a bit.  You know when the clouds get that fuzzy, quilted effect?  (See above picture for a pathetic representation.)  Like the whole world is tucking in and hunkering down.  Which reminded me: I went inside and tossed some firewood into our new favorite contraption, the woodstove, and got it goin' nice and cracklin' hot.  Woodstoves are what every home should come with, because we have not turned on our heat but once or twice this year.  We've also been sleeping on the foldout couch in the living room because our bedroom, on the other side of the house, is the approximate temperature of a meatlocker.  But anyway.

The evening called for something hearty, and the last of the late season's crop of tomatoes, courtesy of our friend Raina, were duly chopped, tossed with a bit of olive oil, salt, pepper, and thyme, and roasted in a big Pyrex with garlic.  I kept the cloves whole, but probably wouldn't again with this recipe.  If you decide to give this a whirl, give your garlic a nice chop.

Meanwhile I boiled a mess of spaghetti and when I poured it out to drain, I let some ricotta melt in the hot pot.  Suggested ratio of pasta to ricotta: about a half pound of pasta to 1 cup ricotta.  For greater richness and fat content, add more ricotta to taste.  

When the tomatoes are shriveled and brown around the edges, spoon them with all their attendant juices into the pot with the ricotta.  Mix the two till you get a thick, pink sauce and add more salt and pepper to taste.  Stir in pasta, and if too thick, add a couple tablespoons of the pasta water, which you have wisely reserved.

Enjoy in front of a hot woodstove.

Bare Naked Fridge

Dear Confessions of a Food Nazi,

I can't resist a good, weird challenge.  When you defied your fellow bloggers to reveal the contents of their fridge I felt that inexplicable, sadistic call toward complete self-exposure.  So here it is.  If I am what I eat, then... hmm.  I must not be very exciting.  

A large tupperware full of shredded purple cabbage, leftover rice, soy milk, homemade vinaigrette, tortillas, cornmeal, pickles, cheap parmesan/sawdust... God, what do I EAT?  I swear I put together round meals on a regular basis...

The funniest part of this exercise, and really, the only reason I published the stricken state of my fridge for all to see, is my freezer.  Aside from a few non-descripts and some ice trays, check out the three main items, from left to right.  Ice cream.  Vodka.  Shrimp skins.

Come on, they're for stock!!

Thanks for the challenge,

Megan.

P.S.  Melbourne rocks!  I spent a few happy weeks there once.  Betcha never heard of Hood River, Oregon.

Sumptuous Sushi

For some reason I have to be in just the right mood for sushi.  But then, when I'm eating it, I think "I love this stuff.  I need to be eating this on a very regular basis."  Happily, there is an incredible sushi bar in town called Sushi Okalani.  It is the spot that I will be indulging in what I hope to be a much more frequent communication with this fresh and sort of funny dish.  The owner, a balding and bespectacled Rick Moranis-type, stood behind the bar with his sous chefs the entire time Adam and I were there, with his hands wrist-deep in sticky rice and strips of raw fish.  I like it when a proprietor is down in the trenches like that-- it conveys a sense of pride, and the notion that "if you want something done... ."

But I'm glad for selfish reasons too, because I had the pleasure of sampling some of this man's truly heavenly creations.  To start we had a filet of Crispy Grilled Trout.  It arrived unassumingly, with only some scant sliced cabbage beneath it which seemed to serve less as a garnish than as a ventilating method to prevent the fish from getting soggy on the plate.  The filet itself wore a thin, crispy, tempura-type batter and came with a bowl of dipping sauce on the side.  The sauce was awesome: sweet and salty and suggestive (not the harsh, jelly-like teriyaki glaze you'll find at a lesser joint), but it was just the icing on the cake because the fish itself was fresh, tender and flavorful.  Even the skin was yummy and oily but not rubbery in the way that fish skin can too often become.

But here was the real star of the show: 

Called the Locals Only Te Maki, this gorgeous sushi roll contained smoked Steelhead, sauteed lobster mushrooms, and I believe some slivers of cucumber.  It was absolute heaven.  There are few things tastier to my mind than a well-smoked piece of fish.  To pair it with some pretty dang interesting mushrooms, and then to wrap it all in the perennially yummy combo of seaweed and sticky rice... well, let's just say you've got some serious moaning and groaning going on.

Interesting note: I just looked up Steelhead on wikipedia and you might like to know that Steelhead and Rainbow Trout are exactly the same species, but only Steelhead go to the ocean for a few years and then return to fresh water to spawn.  Rainbow Trout live in fresh water their whole lives.  The flesh of Rainbow Trout is white and the flesh of the Steelhead, as you can see, is pink like salmon.  I'm not sure why this is, since they are virtually the same species.  I imagine it's due to varying diets, but my cursory research didn't shed any light on that.

The roll was so good that, after we had cleaned our plate (even munching down all the pickled ginger when the sushi was gone), we called for another order and happily put that away too.  This on top of a Spicy Tuna roll and some Inari!  What's that you say?  Smoked fish has no place in a sushi roll?  You're not supposed to cook the veggies first?  Well, my friends, I guess only locals would understand.
The meal was rounded out by a great bottle of sake, called Hakutsuru Junmai Daiginjo.  Hakutsuru is the name, but Junmai Daiginjo refers to the production method of the sake.  The rice used has a high polish, which means a large percentage of each grain of rice (at least 50%!) is buffered off, leaving only the creamy, flawless inner part.  The brewing methods are much more careful, too, and sake of this quality is often handmade, instead of being entrusted to machines.  The restaurant served it chilled with a highball class, instead of one of those thimble sized-ones we're all used to.  Easier to get a good nose on it that way.  (The only reason I know any of this stuff is that I wrote an article for the Portland Monthly on another kind of sake, to be published in November!  More on that when the article comes out.)

It was an exquisite meal.  Perhaps my reticence toward sushi was just proof that I hadn't found the right purveyor, because it's only been 24 hours and I'm already sensing a craving coming on...

Another Old Standby

Back when I lived in Santa Fe, I had the great good pleasure of having The Best Neighbors Ever.  And, yes, by those capital letters, I mean to say that it's official.  They are the best.  Ever.  Among the many things that Doug and Jenni did to support, entertain, counsel, and just all around make us feel good, they also had us over for dinner.  And since you know that the most direct route to my heart is through my stomach, I thought it was very cool that our neighbors took it upon themselves to feed us every once in a while.

And one evening Jenni whipped up some of her Curried Red Lentils.  I immediately requested the recipe, and I've been making this lovely, simple dish once every few months ever since.  Since Jenni was so cheerfully willing to part with the How-To, I'm sure she wouldn't mind if I shared it with you here.

In order to keep this recipe as UN-time-consuming as possible, here's what you can do the night before.

--Cook enough rice to yield 2 or 3 cups (with, as Jenni suggested, but I've never been willing to spring for it, a pinch of saffron) and just leave it in the pot with the lid on in the fridge.

--Chop one small or half a large onion, a clove or two of garlic, a red bell pepper (and I threw in a couple ribs of celery for the first time tonight), and store in the fridge.

When you want to eat,

-- Saute your chopped veggies in a splash of evoo "until softish," as Jenni writes in my recipe book.

--Rinse a cup or so of red lentils, add to the pot with the veggies, and add water to cover.  You can add more water as it cooks down, if you like.  You'll find the consistency that you dig after you make it a couple times.

--While it simmers add any or all of these spices: curry*, s&p*, cumin*, coriander, allspice, turmeric, and tonight I thought "What the Hey," and I tossed in a little cinnamon and ground cloves.  *= most important.

--As the lentils are cooking, add a couple tablespoons of water to the rice, and re-heat on a low burner.

--When lentils are tender and spices are adjusted, serve spooned over rice.

--Garnish with yogurt, chopped parsley or cilantro, and a small squirt of Bragg's Liquid Aminos or soy sauce.

Not only is this recipe utterly delicious and fantastically easy, it reminds me of friendship.  Here's to that!

Tuck in Thyme

At last!  The season for justified vegetating on the couch all day is here!  And thank god, because I've got some serious reading and movie-watching to catch up on.  I must say, I'm a bit relieved too that the spectacular, but let's admit it, rather fragile produce of the spring and summer is no longer around for us to exalt and make a fuss over.  (Full disclosure: I'll be exalting with the best of them come May.)  But now is the time for hardy fruits and veggies, like tubers and apples and pumpkins.  Good, wholesome, blue-collar vegetables that can sit in the produce bowl or in the crisper for a few weeks until you rediscover them.  And when you do discover them and cut off a few brown spots, you can throw them all in a pot and their flavors all come together unpretentiously to make a delicious soup.  Like so: 

This yummy concoction was born of no recipe at all, which is the great thing about veggie soup.  It's spontaneous, and it's a fabulous way to clean out the fridge.  This particular batch contains a russet potato (bought a couple weeks ago for breakfast burritos that never came to be), celery (purchased by Adam for some reason but never used), carrots (which are always sitting around), half an onion, a leek (the only ingredient bought special for the soup, for its flavor), garlic, a yam (not sure where that came from) and spinach (bought on sale a few days ago because it was old and ready to meet it's maker).  

The hardest part about it all is the cleaning, peeling, and chopping.  Luckily you don't need to be pretty about it.  Saute all the hard, dense veggies (in my case, everything but the spinach) for five or eight minutes in a big soup pot with some olive oil.  By the way, I'm noticing lately that recipes are telling me to wait a few minutes before adding the garlic to a saute.  I've tried it a couple times, and I think I like this new method-- it seems to prevent the garlic from burning.  While you're stirring the saute, mortar and pestle a few herbs that you like, such as thyme, oregano, salt, pepper, and toss in.

Pour stock, water, bouillion, or any combination thereof to cover.  Put a lid on the pot and just leave it alone for an hour or so.  Stir once in a while.  When the veggies were tender, I turned off the heat and stirred in the chopped spinach.  Season to taste with more s&p, a sprinkling of parmesan, or if you really want to get fancy, a dollop of pesto.

Instead of messing with pesto, I decided to focus on the other integral part of soup: the bread.  If all you've got in the house is sliced, storebought wheat and some oyster crackers then it's time to roll up your sleeves and fish out a packet of yeast from the fridge, where you have wisely stored it.  Then you can make some of this utterly delicious focaccia, whose recipe you can find here.  In the recipe, it tells you to make one "loaf" with thyme kneaded into it, and the other with parmesan sprinkled on top, which to me is sort of like eating a peanut butter sandwich one day and a jelly sandwich the next.  So I made BOTH loaves with thyme and parmesan and threw some sliced tomatoes on (before baking) to boot.

The hot soup and warm crusty/chewy focaccia were pure comfort, so delicious and homey that after dinner Adam and I immediately retreated to the couch to snuggle.  Not long after, the kids followed suit:  

Sipping Pretty

One of the great things about living in a small town is taking trips to the big city.  Last night I went to a French short film festival at the Portland Art Museum and then went out for a late-night artichoke and arugula dip at an old favorite, The Sapphire Hotel.  I was practically overdosing on culture after such a prolonged stretch without it.  Don't get me wrong: I love my orchards and countryside bike rides and killer farmer's markets.  It's just nice to get gussied up and stay out past 9pm every once in a while.

Last week, for example, I made the trip out to Portland and engaged in a nice, close examination of the fine art of cocktails.  And no better place to do research than at the Nuevo Latino-inspired Andina restaurant in the Pearl district.  And though Raina and I munched on Yucca croquettes dipped in three different kinds of salsa, and shrimp-salad-stuffed avocado halves, the snacks were really just there to accessorize the true purpose of our visit.  Mine, a cocktail I now daydream about at the end of a long workday at the rural community college, is called the Sacsayhuaman (sound it out).  It consists of habanero-infused vodka, passion-fruit
puree, cane sugar, a sugar rim, and a cilantro leaf garnish.  It's darn near perfect: spicy, sweet, tropical.  It's hard not to suck it down and order two more.

And here's Raina's: the Atardecer Porteno.  To quote from the menu, because I couldn't top this description: "pink quava nectar shaken with honey infused vodka and lime juice topped with a float of ruby port and a spritz of lime zest, served up with an anise sugar rim."  Whoa.  As you can see it looks like a sunset, which reminds me of the exact time of day I'd like it to be when I'm sitting on a cafe terrace in Rio de Janeiro, sipping on this very drink and happily regarding the Atlantic.