May 23
Dear friends, man oh man, vhat a veek! And now, Wegetable Vednesday called on account of veather! I didn’t have what it took to brave the vindy vet, and now the plumber says too, sorry ma’am, no vater neither!
A lifetime of experience says, now may be the time to take a wee vacation! So I leave you now, but see you Friday! And soon will come wegetables of course, but sveets too, because we deserve them!
’til then,
love, Spree
I hadn’t intended to limit my posts during these renovation weeks to vegetables and salads – wouldn’t you much rather see photos all oozy, fruit syrupy, coconut-sprinkled, chocolate-slathered, honey creamy rich swallows of sweetness that you’d gladly over-consume a day’s worth of calories to sink your face into? Of course you would. And HOW I disappoint - cauliflower, of all things! (So in hopes of making it up to you, may I direct you to a couple kitchens where they’re still putting wildly luscious things on the table that will have you drooling like a toddler cutting teeth? Merci beaucoup, Movita Beaucoup! I NEVER leave your place without a huge smile on my face and dreams of hand-feeding those I love with what you’ve just baked! And Smidge, who NEVER does things by dribs or drabs or “just a smidgens” – but goes ALL out with her exquisite cakes and cake-lets! If you don’t know and love these women already, may I suggest you should?)
Still…you don’t want to forget your vegetables completely do you? And here it is already Wegetable Vednesday!
I don’t know if you knew, but cauliflower ‘s quite the pacifistic vegetable. Mild and meek, ever-open to compromise, never jumping off the fork to assert itself. It’s SO compliant in fact, we can whip it into something very closely resembling mashed potatoes. Though it can be rather bland (flat out dull when boiled) clever humans have discovered various ways to color these pale flowers delicious. Fact is, it’s child’s play since cauliflower virtually never puts up a fight.
Grill it and toss it, while still warm, in a mustard & caper vinaigrette, tumble in colorful spinach and tomatoes, toss fresh dill at it, and you have a scrumptiously hearty, fresh-as-Spring salad. (And though some are loathe to hear it, it’s chockablock full of vitamins too!)
Prepare the dressing: By hand or in a food processor or blender – mix together the capers, mustard, garlic, vinegar and some salt and pepper. Whisk vigorously or run the machine while adding HALF the oil (¼ cup) in a slow trickle. What will result is a thick, creamy dressing. Taste and adjust the seasonings. Set aside.
For at least the next several weeks we have a three-part kitchen. The refrigerator is still where it belongs, but next week will be heading to the garage. Our prep space is on a long craft table set up in the dining room in front of the window – where until recently I took photos to share with you. We have the bare necessities there – the sorts of things you’d likely find at a campsite – well, okay, maybe an RV park, minus the generator. The clean up space (and the nearest water) is in our laundry room, about 100 yards (or more) away from everything. That’s also where we keep our espresso machine, because how could we consider going camping without it?
Between the clean-up space and the prep space are some stairs. On this side of the stairs are our dogs. On the other side of the stairs, a demolition crew going in and out the front door. Separating the two, at the base of the stairs, is a dog gate that I climb over with arms full of food, cutting board, salad bowl, etc etc etc. If you had a few minutes and you’re into pratfalls, you’d get a kick out of it. I’m bringing armloads of stuff to my office to prepare a salad and then to photograph it. So as you can imagine, there are a lot of “steps” involved in preparing something around here, especially something to share with people of such enormously good taste as yourselves. A lot of “foot-steps” that is. Apart from that, we’re keepin’ it simple around these parts. Here it is another Wegetable Vednesday and the show must go on!
This morning I headed to another one of Portland’s Farmers’ Markets, and this time I brought big girl camera and cash. This market too is on Portland’s park blocks, but smaller, cozier than last week’s. And, sadly, no fiddles. But there were glorious flowers and loads of beautiful vegetables and herbs to choose from.
I’m kind of a freak for salads, so I head to the greens first. But I’m apprehended by the perfume of fresh bouquets of mint and tender pillowy leaves of basil. And the greens, half of them were shades of purple! How could I resist? Another vender was selling goat cheese. Into the basket. (See those orange beets in the photo above? Those made it home too, but didn’t make it to the salad.) What did make it into the salad: the greens & the purples, the goat cheese, mint and basil, some plump bursty blueberries – and kiwi just ripe, back at our campsite. They got tossed into a bowl, drizzled with olive oil and (blueberry infused) balsamic. But never mind if yours isn’t blueberry flavored, any balsamic you love will do! A little salt and pepper, glorious! Took a few photos then feasted simple!
(No amounts will be specified – just wing it! Have fun! We’re camping!)
Apr 30
Portland Farmers’ Market
I did get some close-up shots of these beautiful beets and Japanese turnips. But how could I resist including this beautiful arm, itself nearly the color of the earth, laced with its branches and roots?
Portland Park Blocks Farmers’ Market – Saturday April 28, 2012
This is a wonderful farmers’ market, its tents and stalls spreading beneath a canopy of old trees that forms one long park through downtown. Vegetables, fruits, herbs, artisinal breads, pizzas, honeys and jams, every sort of baked good, shrubs and small trees, starts for your garden, children in strollers, bags brimming, fiddlers fiddling, sun and rain and fresh, everywhere earthly fresh. I had enough to carry so left my money in the car blocks and blocks away, knowing that Guinea Pig always carries cash. I left my very big-girl camera at home and brought something smaller. I was happily snapping away, when the camera suddenly seized. Already it was done for the day, and I’d only just started. OK then, time to fill our own basket to brimming. But with all the glorious goodness around us, how would we choose? It became simpler than expected when my husband brought out his crumpled $9, the sum total of what we had. Ruby beets, pale pretty turnips, and rainbow carrots. $3 a bunch. Cash broke and done.
Turnips have never appeared solo in our house, but always as part of a roasted vegetable medley or a soup or stock. Wanting to keep this simple though, I roasted these pretty little things with a bit of olive oil, a scattering of thyme from the garden and flaky salt and white pepper. When they were done, they’d sit on a bed of turnip greens drizzled with balsamic.
bunch young Japanese turnips with greens
a dozen sprigs of fresh thyme
olive oil
salt & pepper
shallot
drizzle honey
squeeze fresh lemon (Meyer especially good)
white balsamic vinegar
Remove the greens from the turnips, leaving an inch or two of the stalks still attached. Gently scrub the turnips. (No need to peel.) Wash the greens, and then cut in approximately half, keeping the thicker stalks separate from the more delicate leaves. Set greens aside. For easy clean up, line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Cut the turnips in half from top to bottom and place cut-side up on the baking sheet. Drizzle with olive oil, scatter with salt and pepper, toss sprigs of thyme about. Place in a 400°F oven for about 20 minutes. Using tongs, flip the turnips over and continue cooking until tender. (May be about another 20 minutes.)
Last fall I introduced you to my friend Amit who grew up in Delhi, India. (See a wonderful rice and beans dish of his mother’s, Rajmah, that I posted at the time.) Amit, a man who loves all things associated with the kitchen, has inspired me in my own. Now borrowed from him are chai, rice and bean dishes, chutney, a couple salads and several curries that he brought to the US when he immigrated here. This is Amit’s father’s birthday month and in honor of that, I was asked if I could share a favorite dish of his Dad’s too. I told my good friend I’d be happy to.
Have you ever heard the expression that a person grows into the name he or she was given? It appears to be the case with Amit’s father, a gregarious man with a smile that lights up his entire face, and possibly the entire room. His name: Prakash Chandra Jain. Prakash means light, and Chandra - moon! Can you imagine being given such a name?! And then, having the privilege of growing into it?
Seen here with wife Anjana, at the wedding of their son Moni to his new bride, Richa.
~ ~ ~
Sri Prakash Chandra, since retired, had his career as an experimental physicist. He’s always been an exacting man – both in his lab and in the kitchen where he loved to cook for his family. His interest in the culinary world was already well-evidenced by the time he was a young man in college where he took the lead in his dorm’s dining hall — purchasing the food, planning the recipes for the cooking staff and in general, managing the kitchen. Experimentation wasn’t restricted to his physics lab either – he’s been known to work and work on a recipe until he’s perfected it. And one of his favorite dishes is one that Amit and his family grew up eating on a typical (ever-delicious) Delhi morning.
Sounds complicated, no? Well, it’s not a bowl of instant oatmeal or a cereal bar grabbed on the way out the door (but who writes of that?) It’s sit-down food, meant for moments to savor.
(NOTE: Amit has also made this stuffing with purple potatoes, cooked & chopped finely, then prepared as in the directions for this stuffing. How very pretty that would be.)
Heat oil in a pan. Add ginger and sauté until just slightly brown. Add the cauliflower and spices. Cook uncovered over low-medium heat, stirring occasionally, for about 10 minutes (or until tender).
Should you have any left over, this stuffing is delicious to eat as a side.
fresh ginger – 1 inch x ½ inch piece
1 Tablespoon cumin seeds
15 – 20 leaves of fresh mint
2 whole bunches of fresh cilantro
2 cloves garlic
1½ salt (Amit likes 2)
juice of 2 limes
1 jalapeño – ribs and seeds removed
¼ to ½ water (more like 3/8)
1 to 2 Tablespoons plain yogurt (optional – I wanted to preserve the brilliant green color so didn’t add)
3 Tablespoons shredded unsweetened coconut
In earlier posts I’ve alluded to “things about to happen” around our house, but I can explain further now. First there was the joyous birth of our little Drew baby! And even a bit before, and a lot since, we’ve been preparing for a good-sized remodel – two bathrooms and our kitchen.Once work begins on the kitchen, things will get especially interesting. We have a gas grill, and a portable induction burner that’ll hold one pot at a time. And we’ll have boxes full of herbs and spices and plates and forks and knives.
How do I prepare for what has been described to me variously as “completely disruptive”, “awful”, and “just plain hell” (really?!) ? I accept that things will be turned on their heads for a while, and I’ll be here to document it. I’ll photograph the destruction and mayhem. I’ll play my part in this creative process, from demolition to gleaming completion. I know it’ll be challenging in ways I can’t yet know. But I’m thrilled! And I think I’m ready.
What will it mean here, on these bloggy pages? We’ll discover together. Smoothies? Salads? One pot wonders? Grilled seafood? We won’t go hungry, I promise!
One thing that will make this process less disruptive to food-lovers like us is that Spring is upon us and Summer is coming, and about now Farmer’s Markets are springing up all over the city and in the ‘burbs! Wooden stalls lined with fresh and gorgeous produce, bulging in bright ripeness! The choices we have are exquisitely exhaustive! So, one thing I can predict for the coming months is this: I’ll be carrying my basket to farmers markets, visiting with the growers, photographing fresh-from-the-farm fruits and vegetables and bringing a few choice picks home. Once a week I’ll share my trips with you. We’ll explore old favorites, never-liked and never-tried’s. Most of what will result will be simple, beautiful, and delicious. And since life around our house will be turned on its head for the next little while, it seemed only fitting to name this weekly feature something like
and so I have.
(but don’t be surprised to see a few vruits too)
It will be a veritable celebration of things with stems & seeds & roots!
Why not begin with a couple old standby’s and treat them freshly? It doesn’t get more basic than peas and carrots, right?
Well, it could…
~ ~ ~
(about 6 servings)
1½ pounds rainbow carrots (various lengths makes it even prettier)
4 ounces pea shoots (see NOTE)
2 cups sugar snap peas
1 cup snow peas (optional)
¼ cup Meyer lemon juice
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 large clove garlic, minced
½ teaspoon kosher salt
¼ teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1 cup crumbled sheep or goat milk feta cheese
¾ cup mint leaves, cut into slivers
For protein, add either
3 cups cooked chicken, shredded
2 cups grilled or poached firm fish, in pieces
1 cup cooked & shelled edamame (fresh soy beans)
NOTE on pea shoots – One market I go to stocks them regularly. You may find them at Farmers Markets or Asian markets too.
~ ~ ~
Scrub the carrots gently in order to retain most of their bright outer color. With a mandolin or vegetable peeler, cut thin lengthwise ribbons to make about 4 cups. Discard ends or any tough cores. (What worked best for me was to lay the carrot on the cutting board, holding the thin end of the carrot in one hand and with the other, using a vegetable peeler and a bit more pressure than normal, peel from the small end to the large. I discarded both the first and last strip of each carrot since that was mostly peel.)
Put dark and light carrot ribbons in separate bowls of ice water and soak about 15 minutes to crisp them up. Drain in a colander and roll in kitchen towels. (or line a salad spinner with towel and spin.)
Go through the pea shoots, discarding thick or tough stems and tearing sprigs into 4- or 5-inch pieces.
Pull the strings from the straight sides of snap peas (& snow peas if using) and then thinly slice lengthwise.
we all bring something to the table. what are our gifts? what of ourselves do we decide to grow and then share? what love language do we speak? do we learn to speak another’s? how well do we listen?
my husband learned years ago that i love flowers. in the beginning he would order elaborate flower arrangements (full to overflowing) and have them delivered to the door. then, somewhere along the line, he learned i like simple, and all of one thing. and now, he brings me bundles wrapped in paper, wound with string, carried in his own man arms. and sometimes, after days away, blooms are there, welcoming me home again.
if you’ve been with me awhile, you’ve heard of my fear of pie. (more truly, it was fear of a colossal-y failed crust.) i’ve done truly brave things in my life (i’ll even cop to a “reckless” act or two) but pie crust? why and how this fear (irrational to begin with) grew to be such a beast, you might guess. but for years i steered clear of the rolling pin. then, only fairly recently, i decided to stand toe to toe with that tiger, stare unflinching into his golden eyes.
that tiger walks beside me now, purring like a kitten. and finally (and this is reason enough to take on a tiger) i can make my love his apple pie.
I’ve shared my recipe for a tart shell in an earlier post. (see French Lemon Tart if you want to be tempted!) I’ll include the crust recipe here too, at the end of the post. I’d like to be humble about this, but after years of being humble, to finally be proud seems like something worthy of sharing. So here’s the un-softened, un-humble truth. This crust is a.w.e.s.o.m.e.
A word about the filling: I grew up eating and loving rhubarb. To me, it’s a thing of spring. So as a base for this pie is a thick rhubarb “compote” of sorts – the liquid cooked out of it and nothing but the essence of the fruit remaining, lightly sweetened, imbued with the scented seeds from a vanilla pod and touched with a hint of cardamon. Apples, rolled in melted butter and brown sugar twirl across the top. Serve as is, warm from the oven, with or without ice-cream or crème fraîche. Or serve it chilled. It’s not too sweet for brunch or tea.
Wash the rhubarb stalks. Split in half lengthwise, then cut into pieces about 1/2-inch or smaller. Put in a medium-size heavy pot. Split the piece of vanilla bean in half lengthwise and scrape out the seeds, adding both the pod and seeds to the pot. Drop in the brown sugar and cardamom.
Place the lid on the pot and cook over low heat for 15 minutes or until saucy. (No water in this compote – the low heat will encourage the rhubarb to release its own moisture.)
Apr 13
These 9 days away have been some of the most
indescribably JOYOUS, smile and laugh and love til you split wide open of days!
~ and ~
I’ve missed the man I love! I’ll soon be home! And waiting will be:
he
fish tacos
& whole fruit margaritas
¼ cup water
1 whole succulent navel orange, peel removed
1 ripe & extremely tart lemon, rind removed
1 juicy lime, peel-less
¼ cup sugar
6 ounces tequila
2 ounces Grand Marnier
6 cups ice cubes
Place all ingredients in a high-speed blender and process until margarita-ish.
Moisten the rim of 2 glasses with fresh lime.
Dip in salt.
Fill nearly to the brim with margarita!
kiss!
xo
Apr 12
~
the family celebrates…
with Love & Joy,
spree
Apr 8
And whether or not you celebrate Easter, may this Sunday morning be full of light, warmth & good cheer,
and may there be love on, and all around, your table!
love, spree
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