love.life.eat
a relentless pursuit of the perfect home + dish
a moveable feast: mango, avocados, greens + guac!
Posted on May 14, 2013
To say that every day I wake to a typhoon or a circus or something in between would be a grand understatement. The past few months have been exhilarating, thrilling, frightening and magical all at once. Not only did I have a chance to explore unknown cities, I’ve had the luxury of rediscovering art, finding it, having it find me, and somewhere along the way I’ve managed to create a little bit of art of my own. I’m starting to learn who I can trust and who I can’t. I’ve become weary of the intensity of people, and am now drawn to the quietness and calm of others. I say Good Morning, I read Faust, I write longer emails to friends (from one line to a paragraph!). I don’t know what I want next, but I think I do. Every day is a stutter, a series of starts and stops, and the constant, the satisfying threadline through all of this has been food. Always the food.
I had a dear friend come round this weekend, and I prepared a feast that made us swoon. Verdant, flavorful and bright, it was a delicious melange of texture and taste, and not for a moment did we feel we were missing something because it was vegetarian and virtuous (or at least, semi-virtuous, as we had a heaping of fried millet falafel). Rather, we were sated, full, and excited to dive into my stash of French dark chocolates.
We spent four hours trading stories about our respective experiences the past few months, and it occurred to me that the other crucial threadline, perhaps one that supersedes food, are friends. Those great, magical people who are always there, who talk you off ledges, who encourage you to climb new ones, and those who tell you that although the millet falafels are far from attractive, they are DAMN GOOD.
INGREDIENTS
For the salad
2 cups packed baby kale
1 cup packed spinach
1 cup packed arugula
1/2 cup cashews, toasted in a dry pan
1/2 cup fresh blueberries
2 oz soft cheese of your choice (I used a truffled cow’s milk cheese that had the texture of brie, however, you can use goat, brie, or gorgonzola)
1/4 sundried tomatoes, packed in olive oil
1 tbsp olive oil
Sea salt/cracked pepper to taste
For the mango + avocado salad, dressed in a lime balsamic vinaigrette: Recipe adapted from Gwyneth Paltrow’s It’s All Good
2 ripe mangoes, peeled, pitted, and thinly sliced
2 ripe avocados, peeled, pitted, and thinly sliced
Coarse sea salt
1 batch Balsamic-Lime Vinaigrette (we didn’t use all of the dressing, but used about 1/4 of it. That might have also been the case because I knocked over the dressing and spilled it all over the table.)
A small handful of fresh basil leaves
For the basil-lime vinaigrette
2 tbsp balsamic vinegar
2 tbsp brown rice syrup
1 tbsp freshly squeezed lime juice
¼ cup plus 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
Coarse sea salt
Freshly ground pepper
For the guacamole
1 ripe avocado
1/4 cup finely chopped fresh cilantro
2 stalks of scallions, fine dice (all parts: white, green, light green)
juice + zest of half a lime
Sea salt + pepper to taste
DIRECTIONS
For the salad: Toss all of the ingredients above. Only add the olive oil when you’re about to serve, as the leaves will wilt.
For the mango + lime salad + vinaigrette: Whisk the vinegar, brown rice syrup, and lime juice together in a mixing bowl. Slowly whisk in the olive oil and season to taste with salt and pepper. Keeps well in a jar in the fridge for up to a week. Alternate slices of mango and avocado on a serving platter and scatter with a pinch of sea salt. Drizzle with the Balsamic-Lime vinaigrette; tear the basil leaves and sprinkle them over the top. Serve immediately.
For the guacamole: Cut + core the avocado and crush the meat with the tines of your fork. Add in all of the ingredients and serve with carrots, chips, or strips of red bell peppers.
re-engineering a classic: coconut blueberry banana loaf
Posted on May 13, 2013
Believe me when I say that this loaf has seen more transformations than Madonna in the 90s. One morning in 2009, I searched for a simple banana bread recipe, and after baking said loaf, finding it just okay, I decided to tinker with it. Over the years, I’ve had tremendous triumphs: the nutella banana loaf, the banana chocolate chip nutella loaf, the pistachio coconut banana loaf, and on it goes. However, nothing awakens my cold, dead heart than a smattering of blueberries, a pile of bananas and sweet coconut.
In this go-around, I decided to begin the slow transformation from a loaf that is heavy with white flour and sugar to something richer, something more complex. I’ve made many flour substitutions, which have ended violently (read: me tossing the wreckage in the bin, me wailing in front of a hot oven, me wondering what was I thinking when I decided to incorporate quinoa flour? WHAT WAS I THINKING?!), so I’m going slow with this. So far, I’ve swapped out the oils, reduced the sugar (rationalizing that the coconuts and blueberries will help), and added in agave. I’m moving toward brown rice syrups, honey (in my heart I KNOW honey will make this loaf SING), and coconut, tapioca and almond flours. I’ll keep you posted on all my attempts (and inevitable failures), along the way.
For now, know that this is the sort of loaf that will wake you up at night. The sort of loaf that I’m carrying, right now, so I can pawn off to someone else. Simply put: this kid is DANGEROUS.
INGREDIENTS (makes two loaves)
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
3 large eggs, room temperature
3/4 cup cane sugar
1/2 cup agave
3/4 cup coconut oil, melted and cooled
2 tablespoons pure vanilla extract
1 cup ripe mashed banana (about 2 medium)
1/2 cup sweetened shredded coconut
1/2 cup fresh blueberries
1/2 cups almond milk
Nonstick coconut oil cooking spray
DIRECTIONS
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Coat two 9×5 inch loaf pans with cooking spray; set aside. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt; set aside.
In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the eggs, sugar, agave and coconut oil on medium-low speed until combined. Beat in the flour mixture. Add the vanilla, banana, coconut, almond milk, and beat just to combine. Fold in the blueberries.
Divide batter evenly between prepared pans; smooth with an offset spatula. Bake, rotating pans halfway through, until a cake tester inserted in the centers comes out clean, 50 to 55 minutes.
Transfer to a wire rack to cool for 10 minutes. Remove loaves from pans and let cool completely. Bread can be kept at room temperature, wrapped well in plastic, for up to 1 week, or frozen for up to 3 months. But honestly, are you going to do this? Shove a delicious loaf in the freezer and abandon it so cruelly? Hardly. You’re going to end up cutting small slices in the middle of the night, and eat this, standing up, in the kitchen, in the DARK.
perfect herbed grilled chicken + corn with kale + basil pesto
Posted on May 4, 2013
What I’m about to say will shock you, but after three weeks of devouring copious amounts of fresh, rich cheeses, ribbons of homemade pasta, warm baguettes, and flaky almond croissants, all I wanted was a bowl piled high with greens. Much to my shock, awe and chagrin, I’ve learned that it is possible to tire of pastry and white flour.
It is possible to say: PLEASE, NO MORE CROISSANTS!
As soon as my plane touched down and I made my way through the labyrinth that is JFK, all I craved were kale and protein. Perhaps to punish myself for all the delectable eats I consumed during my three-week European food odyssey, I turned to the BIG GOOPER herself, Gwyneth. We’re going to ignore the People cover story, gloss over her I’m just like you, bit, and leap into the pages of her cookbook, which do indeed hold a fair amount of goodness. SMITE YOU, GWYNNIE!
Three years ago, I was a woman who cooked at home. Walked half a mile to the subway, just because. Eschewed meal delivery. I was fit, healthy and strong, and over the course of three years I somehow managed to turn into someone who downloads Seamless Web, uses it, and becomes addicted to it. Complains about walking anywhere. During my holiday, I walked for eight to twelve hours a day and I fell in love with it all over again. The way one can get lost, hatch plans and strange ideas, and feel alone, but not lonely — this is what walking affords you.
When I came home, my friend was barren, and I immediately stocked it with greens, meats, and fresh herbs. Can I tell you how good it felt to grill a chicken? It’s so minor, a shift imperceptible to anyone BUT ME, but my walking, my cooking, my need for space and quiet, reminds me of a version of myself that I miss.
Here’s to being back. Here’s to seeing where the day takes you. Here’s to eating virtuously.
INGREDIENTS: Adapted from Gwyneth Paltrow’s It’s All Good.
Serves 4
For the chicken
1 tsp very finely chopped fresh sage
1 tsp very finely chopped fresh thyme
1 tsp very finely chopped fresh rosemary
1 tsp very finely chopped fresh basil
1 small garlic clove, finely minced
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
zest of 1/2 lemon
2 tbsp freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/2 tsp coarse sea salt
4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts pounded to barely 1/4 inch thick
For the kale + basil pesto corn (I modified Paltrow’s basic pesto recipe to include kale. If you’re not keen on kale, just use one cup of packed basil leaves, instead.)
3 tbsp pine nuts
1 garlic clove, finely minced
1/2 cup packed basil leaves
1/2 cup packed flat kale leaves (not the curly kind)
1/2 tsp coarse sea salt
1/2 tsp cracked black pepper
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
DIRECTIONS
For the chicken: Combine the herbs, garlic, olive oil, lemon zest/juice, and salt in a large mixing bowl. Add the chicken breasts to the bowl and rub the herb mixture all over each piece, being sure to get it on both sides. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let the chicken mariante for at least 1/2 hr (I recommend an hour), or as long as overnight. I marinated my chicken for an hour at room temperature, however, if you’re going for overnight, just make sure that you let your chicken come to room temperature before you grill it.
Heat a grill or grill pan (I used my panini press, true story) over medium heat. Grill the chicken until just cooked through, 2-3 minutes on each side.
For the kale + basil pesto corn: In a medium pot with salted water, add 2 cups frozen corn and cook until tender (6-7 minutes), stirring occasionally. Drain and set aside.
Blitz all of the ingredients in a food processor until the pesto has a rough texture. To be honest, I’ve never tasted a difference when you blitz the nuts + garlic prior to adding the leaves, so I tend to add in the lot in one shot.
Add 1/4-1/2 cup of the pesto to the corn. I tend to like a light coating, so I used a 1/4 cup for 4 servings of corn. This is purely my preference.
two-cheese grits + kale
Posted on March 28, 2013
Lately, I’ve been thinking about relationships, the ties that bind one person to another, and how the love between good, honest people can shelter one another from heartbreak. Even more so I’m considering what it means to know someone, really know someone. Each day I read dozens of blogs, women whom I admire, women who are word artisans, charming itinerants and prolific bakers, but do I really know them? I would posit that I don’t. Rather, I know only one aspect of their character, one they chose to share online; I’m reading an edited version of one’s self, replete with fanciful photographs and a playlist at the ready. Yet, we crave meaningful connection, people who are just like us, or those who we aspire to be, but I would offer this: we don’t really know anyone until we spend time with them. Until we see aspects of their character that’s not always edited for television.
A few days ago I received a comment that irked me. Although it was likely intended to be a compliment — the notion that I had evolved from someone who only cared about her hair to someone who writes lengthy, highly-edited paragraphs about aspects of my personal life that I feel comfortable sharing — it felt much like someone was saying that I was once one-dimensional and now I’m not. Clearly it wouldn’t have bothered me if part of it didn’t hold some semblance of truth. Certainly there was a period in my life when I courted material things, and for a time I chose to put that aspect of my character online. Similarly, years ago I chose to put another aspect of myself online when I wrote about my struggles with alcohol and letting go of my mother. And now, liberated from a job that exhausted me, I feel as if all of the doors have swung open and I can write, freely.
In Spanish, there are two verbs that communicate a state of being, ser and estar. Ser expresses permanence, while estar speaks to how one feels in the moment: the difference between I am a woman and I am tired. Over the years I’ve used this space to practice my estar while my ser remained mostly unchanged. And while I still crave beautiful things, now I like them for different reasons, and I want less of them. But how do you know all facets of one’s character unless you’re connected to them in their lives, when you can see the shifts, albeit tantamount of a minor quaking? Once you have trepass to the full picture, it is then you understand the digressions and splintering.
I’ve been thinking about how well we really know someone. For a time, I consumed copious amounts of Russian literature because many books contemplated the double, namely, the dual nature that resides in all of us; our propensity to be kind and cruel, depending upon the situation. And while I think it’s true that I don’t think you know someone based on their blog posts, tweets and other presented versions of self, I’m also starting to wonder about the people I know in real life.
Were you always this way, or was I too blind to see you for who you really are?
Let’s shift to something that’s comforting…
INGREDIENTS: Recipe courtesy of Blue Apron
1 cup vegetable broth
2 1/2 cups water
1 large Spanish onion {I nixed this as onions aren’t my bag}
2 cloves garlic
1 bunch kale (2-3 cups), washed + dried
1/2 cup sharp cheddar cheese, grated
3/4 cup grits
1/4 cup parmesan cheese
1 pinch red pepper flakes
1 lemon
1 tsp sesame seeds
DIRECTIONS
Prepare your ingredients: In a medium pot, bring the water + broth to a boil. Rough chop your kale, peel + slice the onion and garlic. Set the onion, garlic, cheese and kale aside.
Cook the grits: When the mixture comes to a bubble, add in the grits and stir frequently for twenty minutes. Leave the grits uncovered.
Cook the onions: While I am not a believer of the caramelized onion, far be it from me to deny you the glory. While the grits cook, heat up some olive oil (2 tbsp usually works) on medium heat until hot. Add the onion, reduce the heat slightly, and cook for 12-15 minutes until the onions are sugary and golden brown. Season with salt + pepper. Transfer the onions to a plate.
Cook the kale: Add a touch more olive oil to the pan and add the garlic and pepper flakes, and then kale. Toss until the kale is slick and coated with oil, garlic and flakes, and let it cook until the leaves are wilted, 3-5 minutes. While you’re doing this you’re still stirring your grits.
Remove the kale from the heat, season with salt and pepper and add a spritz of lemon for additional flavor.
Finish the grits: When the grits are cooked {they’ll thicken considerably}, take them off the heat and add in your cheeses, stirring vigorously. Season with salt + pepper. Add the grits to two plates and add the onions + kale to your bed of delicious cheesiness. Serve!
tofu fajitas, whole wheat tortillas, pursuing a new book project + the business of leaving
Posted on March 5, 2013
Lately all I can think about is writing a new book and what that means in age of distraction, abbreviation and constant connection. It’s been a long time since I’ve written long form, since I’ve thought about crafting a narrative, developing characters, finding the in of people. Someone once told me that writing is much like an exorcism — you obsess over the things for which you’re most passionate, and writing allows you to write them out, to give your obsession new shape, color and form. Years ago, when I was playing around with being a “line” writer {think Gary Lutz or my friend + prolific author, Kira Henehan, those who are obsessed with the architect of a sentence versus the development of a story}, someone in my Columbia workshop told me that the family story has been done. Naturally, this statement was followed by an exaggerated sigh, to which I responded in laughter. Every story has been told, but it’s the telling and the voice that make it new. I still believe this. Even now, years later, after so many people have asked if I plan to return to the terrain of my previous book.
To which I’ve responded with a very firm, no. I wrote that obsession out, practically underwent a blood-letting, and now I’ve quietly placed a clean sheet over it, kissed its cheek and allowed the waves to carry it out to the ocean.
However, what I have been obsessed with is what I like to call the business of leaving. Years ago, I wrote a story collection, which turned out to be my thesis for the Columbia MFA program, about a series of characters affected by leaving. I don’t do well with loss, abandonment, leaving, and even though I’m the healthiest I’ve ever been, leaving gnaws. When my best friend of seven years got married and excised all contact it took me a full year to barely recover. When a great love laid my heart out to pasture I was devastated. And when my father called me last week and told me his dearest friend of twenty-five years died of leukemia it took everything in me not to race home and cry alongside him.
The interesting part in all of this is that food always plays a part in every story. From ruined restaurants to beloved recipes, food has always been the center, or the character, in my life. Love, loss and what I ate will be the heart of my new project. It won’t be the sort of thing where I tell as story and dump a recipe at the end, as that’s not how I think. I’m not linear {can’t you tell?} in how I tell a story, so food has to be woven throughout, it must be integral. So this has me exploring new forms. New ways of telling a story in a new age.
Let’s see what unfolds…
INGREDIENTS: Recipe courtesy of Blue Apron
1 red bell pepper
1 green bell pepper
1 red onion
1 bunch cilantro (2 tbsp, rough chop)
1 ripe avocado
1 lime, cut into wedges
1 package superfirm tofu (you can opt to use chicken, beef, shrimp or other protein alternatives)
1/4 cup sour cream
4 whole wheat tortillas
2 1/4 tsp fajita dry mix
DIRECTIONS
Prepare all your veggie by slicing all veggies {peppers, onion, avocado} into big chunks or strips. Squeeze some lime juice all over the avocado to prevent it from oxidizing {turning brown}.
Heat some olive oil in a large skillet with the heat set to high. Drain the water from the tofu and cut into strips. Transfer the strips to the pipping hot pan and cook until browned on both sides (4-7 minutes/side). While the tofu is cooking, add the peppers and onions along with the fajita seasoning and stir until well-cooked and combined. You want your veggies softened, but still crunchy and the tofu, browned.
In a separate pan, heat the tortillas on both sides until warmed and set aside.
Distribute the mixture to all your tortillas and add the avocado + sour cream + spritz with lime and serve!
flaky, buttery feta + chive biscuits
Posted on February 24, 2013
Why does one begin to write? Because she feels misunderstood, I guess. Because it never comes out clearly enough when she tries to speak. Because she wants to rephrase the world, to take it in and give it back again differently, so that everything is used and nothing is lost. Because it’s something to do to pass the time until she is old enough to experience the things she writes about. ― Nicole Krauss
Can I tell you that my oven missed me? I could feel it. I live in a home where I need a blowtorch and a prayer to get my oven to ignite, so on this particularly warm morning, a day when you know spring is just itching to own it, my oven blazed hot and made a sauna of my apartment. Jubilant because it’s a fair day and I’ve got buttery biscuits rising in the oven, a small token for friends throwing an Oscar-themed soiree, come nightfall.
Candidly, it’s been a while since I’ve held dough in hands, felt the alchemy of ingredients coming together like symphony. As you can imagine I’ve been busy trying to catch up on my life. Cleaning my apartment, tossing all the things I’ve amassed over the years but don’t need, seeing old friends and making room for new ones — I haven’t been this efficient or this social in years. And while it’s at turns exhausting, it’s also exhilarating and gratifying because everything feels right. My life feels as it should: whole, because I’ve cultivated a patchwork of brilliant, beautiful people that weave in and out of my world, inspiring me beyond measure. No matter what happens after my final day at work, I know I’ll live a great, sweeping life. I know this because I dared to risk. I dared myself to leap out of my comfort zone, to be frightened of the world and everything in it, to incant all the things that could potentially go wrong {you’ll be homeless, a voice whispers and a fist shakes} and erase the tape. I’m spending time with those who open my eyes with a crowbar to let all the light in.
Let all the light in. Do it, do it now, because there is not one person whose body can house regret; our inevitable heartbreak from what might have been could drown oceans if it wanted to. We come like swallows, painting the sky black. And then we find ourselves in the dark again — boxed in, no way out — with one hand to our heart and the other on an open grave and we hear the silence of the one lone clock that stopped beating.
Here’s me, winding the clock. Here’s me, placing it gently on a blanket. Here’s me whispering, beat, beat.
INGREDIENTS: Recipe courtesy of Joy the Baker
makes about 12 small scones
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 tbsp cane sugar
2 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp cracked black pepper
3/4 (1 1/2 sticks) cup unsalted butter, cold and cut into cubes
1 egg, beaten
3 tbsp cold water
3/4 cup sour cream, cold
1/3 cup chopped chives
3/4 cup big crumbles of feta cheese
1 egg beaten for egg wash
coarse sea salt, cracked black pepper, and smoky paprika for topping
DIRECTIONS
Place rack in the center and upper third of the oven and preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside.
In a mixing bowl, sift together flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and black pepper. Cut in butter (I use a pastry cutter because I’d rather keep my warm hands away from cold dough) until the mixture resembles a coarse meal. The dough should have fat, buttery peas throughout. In another bowl, beat the egg, sour cream, and water until combined. Add the egg and sour cream mixture to the flour mixture all at once, stirring enough to make a soft and shaggy dough. Recently I learned about the “under/over” method, where I use my fork to scrape from the bottom to the top of the dough to ensure that I don’t have a pile of flour that isn’t damp or part of the butter mixture. Add the chives and feta and dump mixture on a clean counter to knead the dough together. You will think this will never come together as I did, but trust me, it does. The mixture will come together in about 10 to 15 kneads.
Roll or pat out into a 1-inch thickness. Cut into 2-inch rounds using a biscuit cutter or cut into 2×2-inch squares. Reshape and roll dough to create more biscuits with excess scraps. Place on prepared baking sheet, brush with egg wash and sprinkle with coarse sea salt, black pepper, and smoky paprika. Bake for 12-15 minutes. Serve warm. These biscuits are best eaten the day they’re made, but will last up to 2 days.
the gathering kind: sunday suppers, an evening shared through photos
Posted on February 20, 2013
For more information about this exquisite experience, visit the Sunday Suppers’ website. To learn more about the lovely Sarah Copeland, visit her website and do snag her book, of which I HIGHLY recommended. To view additional lovely snaps, check out Zio + Sons’ blog post.
chocolate chip scones: a scone only a mother could love
Posted on January 29, 2013
Make no mistake — these scones are ugly as sin but believe me when I say they were delicious. I’ve been battling this lately, the notion that all food photos have to be beautiful and awe-inspiring, sometimes unrealistically so. We’re drawn to the pretty and the perfect; our hearts covet the things that we see. We crave the idyll, we’re voyeurs who love to pore over photographs of the contents of someone’s home, closet, pantry or wallet. This is also why you’re seeing a slew of bloggers talk about “keeping it real” in 2013, how they want to show the boring, unseemly sides of their lives to give some color to the carefully-honed “reality” they architect in their online spaces.
Make no mistake — I’m a victim of this need for perfection just like anyone else. I held back posting this recipe for a month because every time I looked at the final scone shots I found myself shaking my head, thinking: This is too ugly for type. This is a scone only a mother could love. And the excuses piled on.
However, this morning I woke up and started thinking about the imperfect, and how that is so much more beautiful than the artificial stuff we see in movies and magazines. In the mess lies the passion. In the misshapen lies the devotion. Nothing is every worth it if there is no struggle, if it’s too easy, too pretty, so with that I hit the publish button and here you go.
Yummy, semi-frightful looking, scones.
INGREDIENTS: Adapted from Karen DeMasco’s The Craft of Baking
1 3/4 cups (210 grams) all-purpose flour, plus more for rolling
1 tbsp plus 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 cups plus 2 tbsp granulated sugar
1/2 tsp kosher salt
6 tbsp (85 grams) chilled unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
1/2 cup (84 grams) semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 cup plus 2 tbsp heavy cream
1 tbsp Demerara sugar
DIRECTIONS
In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, combine the flour, baking powder, granulated sugar, and salt. Add the butter. Put the bowl in the freezer for 5 minutes. Then beat the mixture on low speed until the butter is broken up into pebble-sized pieces, about 3 minutes.
Add the chocolate chips. With the mixer on low speed, add 1 cup of the cream and mix just until the dough comes together. Using your hands, knead the mixture in the bowl to bring the dough completely together.
Turn out the dough onto a lightly floured surface and roll it into a 7-inch round, about 3/4 inch thick. Using a sharp knife, cut the dough into 12 wedges (8 if you like bigger pieces), like pieces of pie.
Place the pieces on a baking sheet, spacing them 1/2 inch apart. Cover with plastic wrap and freeze for 15 minutes or chill in the refrigerator for 1 hour. While the scones are chilling preheat the oven to 375 degrees.
Brush the scones with the remaining 2 tablespoons cream and sprinkle with the Demerara sugar. Bake the scones, rotating the baking sheet once, until the baking tray once, until they are golden on the edges and firm to the touch, about 20 minutes.
Transfer to a wire rack to cool. The scones are best served the day they are made, but they will keep in a airtight container at room temperature for 3 days.
ligurian chard with pine nuts, quinoa + feta
Posted on January 19, 2013
To say that I’ve an addictive personality would be an understatement. I tend to cleave to things, people, to an excess, to the point where the very thing I once love begins to sicken me. From the blueberry muffin to the glorious almond croissant (I won’t quit you!) to toxic girlfriends, my addiction has run the gamut so I’ve got to be careful.
One of the reasons why I subscribed to Blue Apron Meals {brief parenthetical: I’m in no way, shape or form being compensated or incentivized to prattle on endlessly about these guys — I just seriously love the service and have gotten scores of my work colleagues hooked} is the fact that it affords me meal diversity because I tend to get into a food rut when under considerable work stress. Then all of a sudden the delivery guys have my phone number programmed into their cell phones, and my garbage bin is piled high with leftover tubs of gnocchi pesto. NOT GOOD, PEOPLE. No wins in this scenario and a month of wearing leggings is the epitome of the downward spiral.
So today after French class I raced home and cooked up some healthy and FLAVORFUL chard with pine nuts, feta and quinoa. Not only do I feel virtuous about the food I’m eating (and the money I’m saving), I’m not hitting the Italian restaurant on speed dial.
INGREDIENTS: Recipe courtesy of Blue Apron Meals
1 bunch swiss chard
1 cup quinoa
1/4 cup golden raisins
4oz feta cheese
1 tbsp pine nuts
1/8 tsp red pepper flakes
3 cloves garlic
8-10 Kalamata olives
1 cup vegetable broth
1 small onion
1 lemon
DIRECTIONS
First, put a medium pot of water to a boil. Wash the chard, shake off the excess water. Next thinly slice the greens, onion and garlic. Finally, pit and chop the olives and set everything aside.
Add the quinoa to the boiling water, add a little salt, and cook for 8-10 minutes. While the quinoa is cooking, toast the pine nuts in a dry pan over high heat for a few seconds. Keep an eye on the nuts as they can burn and then you are left crying because pine nuts are EXPENSIVE and you’ve just ruined them. Trust me, I’ve been there. Remove the pine nuts from the heat and set aside.
Once the quinoa is done, drain it well and mix with the golden raisins, half of the pine nuts, half of the cheese, and the juice of half of a lemon. Season with salt (go easy on this as the feta and olives are quite salty) and pepper to taste.
Drizzle a little olive oil (1 tbsp) in a medium pan and turn the heat to high. Sauté the onion, red pepper flakes, and garlic for a few minutes, or until the onions start to soften. The last few Blue Apron recipes I tried I had to dial down the temperature and time as my garlic was getting chard. I had it on medium heat for 2-3 minutes, adding a little salt so the onions could sweat, and I was golden. Then, add the chard and sauté for a few more minutes until the leaves start to wilt.
Next, add the broth to the pan and simmer over medium-high heat. Cook until the broth reduces a bit, 5-6 minutes. Season with salt/pepper to taste.
Divide the quinoa between two plates (or pack a separate tupperware for work, as I do), then serve the chard over the top. Sprinkle the chopped olives over the quinoa and greens. Garnish with remaining cheese and pine nuts, along with a lemon wedge. Enjoy!
get ready to weep: herb-gruyère biscuits
Posted on January 13, 2013
Every holiday I make the Odyssean trek to Connecticut to spend time in a warm home surrounded by a vast forest. The drive from New Haven is a long one, and the road ahead is wrapped in a ticker-tape of trees that were once deciduous but are now covered in bone-white snow. This year my friend’s husband collected me from the train station, and as we passed the time in catch-up conversation, I slid further down in my seat. Taking comfort in watching my oldest and dearest friend’s husband drive.
I should tell you that I don’t like cars — they feel like metal coffins, and I’m always skittish when on the road. There’s not only you with your hands on the wheel and the road in front of you, but there’s all sorts of people, strangers really, to consider. So while my friend’s husband expertly navigated our way home, I found myself closing my eyes. Trying to forget the cars around me.
During the ride I did what I’m wont to do, which is ask after the food. We spoke of grilled fillets and chipotle sweet potatoes, and when he mentioned the biscuits, THE BISCUITS, I went weak in the knees. It should be noted that my friend Elizabeth makes the BEST. BISCUITS. EVER.
I mean, the BEST.
And after I managed to consume four in one sitting, I begged my friend for the recipe and she was kind enough to slip it into a package she sent a week later. So it’s with love and light that I honor Elizabeth and her kind husband by re-creating my true love. THE BISCUIT.
INGREDIENTS: Recipe courtesy of Food + Wine.
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon chopped thyme leaves
1/2 teaspoon finely chopped sage leaves
1 cup shredded Gruyère
1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter—10 tablespoons cut into 1/2-inch cubes and chilled, 2 tablespoons melted
1 cup buttermilk, chilled
Flaky salt, such as Maldon, for sprinkling
DIRECTIONS
Preheat the oven to 425° and position a rack in the lower third of the oven. In a large shallow bowl, whisk the flour, baking powder, baking soda and fine salt. Add the chilled butter and use a pastry blender or 2 knives to cut the butter into the flour until it is the size of peas. Add the chopped thyme and sage, and the Gruyère. Stir in the buttermilk just until the dough is moistened. Lightly dust a work surface with flour. Turn the dough out onto the surface and knead 2 or 3 times, just until it comes together. Pat the dough into a 1/2-inch-thick disk.
Using a floured 2 1/4-inch round cookie cutter, stamp out biscuit rounds as closely together as possible. Gather the scraps and knead them together 2 or 3 times, then flatten the dough and stamp out more biscuit rounds. Pat the remaining scraps together and gently press them into a biscuit.
Transfer the biscuits to a large baking sheet and brush the tops with the melted butter. Lightly sprinkle the biscuits with a few grains of flaky salt and chill until firm, about 10 minutes.
Bake the biscuits for 20 minutes, or until golden. Let the biscuits cool slightly on the baking sheet before serving.
MAKE AHEAD The unbaked biscuits can be frozen: Freeze biscuits in a single layer and transfer to a resealable plastic bag for up to one month. Bake straight from the freezer, adding a few minutes to the cooking time.
quick eats: whole wheat pasta + kale walnut pesto
Posted on January 10, 2013
This week amidst one of many conference calls I took in a remote hotel room I found myself uttering the words, I need to think about my life. I didn’t realize that I’d said this out loud, but I did, and I’m realizing saying this right now means something. Because everything means something even if we don’t know it. Even if we’re trying to deny it. Part of me is battling a tension between my life now and where it could be in a year or two year’s time, and right now, at this moment, I feel very much stuck in the betweens.
So while I sort out all this mess, I’m taking comfort in keeping the rest of my world simple. Easy eats, quiet nights, close friends…
INGREDIENTS
2 cups baby kale, packed
1 cup basil leaves, packed
2 cloves garlic
1/4 cup walnuts, toasted
1/4 cup + 2 tbsp olive oil
2 tbsp panko (or bread crumbs)
Salt/pepper to taste
Optional: 1/4 cup grated gruyere cheese
1 lb whole wheat penne or rotini
DIRECTIONS:
Bring a large pot of water to a boil. While your water is coming to a boil, blitz in a food processor the kale, basil, garlic, and walnuts until it’s a thick, clumpy paste. Stream in the olive oil and add salt/pepper to taste. Set aside.
Once the water is bubbling, add in a handful of kosher salt. Add the pasta and stir and cook until al dente (1-2 minutes under your package instructions. Once the pasta is done, drain and toss in with the pesto and panko, and add grated cheese or additional walnuts if you’re keen on more flavor.
Enjoy!
peanut butter banana bread
Posted on December 28, 2012
Just when you thought banana bread was the height of loaf perfection, imagine peanut butter stepping into the game. Typically, I’ve been baking banana loaves with grape seed/coconut oil and using everything from dark chocolate to coconut in adding layers of texture and flavor, and never did I conceive of the most brilliant addition: PEANUT BUTTER.
I love how, with each bite, you get the crunch from the chips, the smoothness of the creamy peanut butter and the sweetness of the bananas. A cinch to bake, you will thank me (or want to punch me) after you’ve hoovered the whole loaf.
INGREDIENTS: Recipe adapted from Oh Sweet Basil, with minor modifications
1 3/4 cup all-purpose unbleached flour
3/4 tsp baking soda
1 1/4 tsp cream of tartar
1/2 tsp salt
1/3 cup (5 tbsp) butter, room temperature
1/3 cup creamy peanut butter (I use Peanut Butter & Co)
2/3 cup cane sugar
2 large eggs
1 cup mashed, ripened bananas (2-3 medium bananas)
1 cup chocolate chips
DIRECTIONS
Pre-heat the oven to 350F. In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, baking soda, cream of tartar and salt. Set aside.
In a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the butter and peanut butter until smooth. Add the sugar and eggs, and mix on medium/high speed to combine.
Turn the mixer to medium speed and add a small amount of the flour mixture and a tablespoon of banana until fully incorporated. Alternate between the flour mixture and the banana, starting and ending with the banana. Fold in the chocolate chips to combine.
Spray a 9×5 loaf pan, with cooking spray and add the banana bread mixture and even out with an offset spatula. Bake for 50-60 minutes, tenting with foil the last few minutes to avoid too dark a crust.
Allow to cool for 10 minutes and turn out onto a wire rack. Enjoy!
