love.life.eat
a relentless pursuit of the perfect home + dish
sweet potato soup with coriander, chipotle, and a side of circus
Posted on May 18, 2013
Everyone wants the circus act in 140 characters or less. You balance the beach ball on your head, cough up fire, and the applause is thunderous. You shimmy and shake and the crowd indulges their minor digressions, too. You’re envied, obsessed over, and given neat little platitudes whose meaning is small enough to fit on fortune cookies. Everyone’s got the shakes: they switch channels when they see displaced Syrians in tents or women holding up pictures of their loved ones still trapped under all that earth in Bangladesh. Instead, they self-medicate on gossip magazines and indoor sports that “allow you to get deeper,” but ticket collectors neglect to tell them that the floor is bottomless. The deep is whether these pants are a size 6 or if they’re a size 2. There’s already so much drama in my life, they mumble. The deep is wondering if they’re witty enough to keep up with the live-tweeting of television shows that all the “popular” bloggers do. The deep is that book that is moderately sad, but it’s a safe sad, a sad that only goes on for a few pages and then there’s the promise of idyll, that magical ending we all desire. The deep is telling other people they’re so brave, but failing to return their phone calls because they just can’t deal. The motley lot shuffle past and preach concern, but their ferocious blinking and marathon eating suggests yours is a deep for which they’re not properly equipped.
You are drowning and everyone takes pictures with their expensive phones of the water. They just want to hold you close, pat your back, and be on their way. They’ve done their charity; they’ve nodded in the right moments, but perhaps that water should be Lo-Fi or Mayfair?
And then you’re left with the empty peanut shells that cut your hands and feet, empty popcorn bags greasy with fingerprints, and a bill divided in two.
They skitter like frightened mice when you say the words, I am afraid. They muffle you quiet with pretty words like, “You’re so strong! You’ll always find your way!” Because they need a strong Felicia, their mentor, their comic relief, their guidance counselor, their human Rolodex. How would the world press on otherwise? We need our circus intact. We need the show to go on.
All these years you give, and this is the kind you’re likely to get.
It makes you tired, shut in, desperate for blooms and hot soup. It creates a need to press the mute button on the world and everyone in it. So there’s soup, oceans of it.
INGREDIENTS: Recipe adapted from Gwyneth Paltrow’s It’s All Good. I’m GOOP’ing her book so you don’t have to.
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil*
1 large red onion, finely diced (about 1 1/2 cups)**
2 garlic cloves – minced
5 springs of cilantro, leaves reserved for garnish***
3/4 teaspoon cumin
Course sea salt
1 1/2 teaspoons chipotle in adobo
2 large sweet potatoes, peeled and diced (about 6 cups)
6 cups (1 qt) vegetable stock
DIRECTIONS
Heat the olive oil in a large, heavy pot over medium heat. Add the onion, garlic, cilantro sprigs, cumin, and a heavy pinch of salt and cook, stirring now and then, until softened but not browned, 10 minutes. While the soup base is cooking, I used this time to peel and chop the sweet potatoes. Add the chipotle and the sweet potatoes and stir to combine. Add the vegetable stock to the pot and turn up the heat. Once the soup comes to a boil, lower the heat and simmer until the sweet potatoes are very soft, about 30 minutes. Remove and discard the cilantro. Carefully puree the soup in a powerful blender. I’ve an immersion blender, which is honestly the best gadget investment I’ve made for the kitchen. I’ve had it for years and I can still get a delicious puree. If you want a really refined, smooth texture, you can pass the pureed soup through a fine-mesh strainer. Garnish each bowl with a few of the reserved cilantro leaves.
Notes in the Margins
Overall, the soup was pretty extraordinary. A bit spicy for my taste, as I chopped up a whole chipotle and added it with the adobe sauce for measurement. However, if you love spicy this is definitely for you. If you don’t, use 1/2 a pepper and some of the sauce it’s steeped in and the soup will be perfection. What I love about this soup is the consistency. You get the velvet, creaminess that is indicative of most cream (or white potato) based soups, but without the dairy, fat and wasteful calories. And no, I’m not counting calories as I had a huge rosemary roll slathered with Irish butter to accompany my small bowl of soup. Just executing some carb strat, guys.
*Gwyneth is truly high if she thinks that onions and garlic won’t brown on medium heat with two tablespoons of olive oil over a period of ten minutes. I added another 1/2 tbsp into the mix and kicked the heat down to medium/low after five minutes, and all was well with the world. You may want to go safe and add 3 tbsp. This soup is enough for four.
**I abhor red onions in a way that you can’t understand. Instead, I used a small yellow onion and it did the job just fine.
***If your hatred of coriander (translation: cilantro), it’s cool, I won’t judge. You can definitely use basil or sage. Think of the sort of herbs you’d add with squash, as you’re getting a similar sort of flavor play here.
goop’ing it so you don’t have to: millet falafel + carrot salad
Posted on May 11, 2013
My beloved Winona has made some unfortunate choices. There was the Adam Sandler movie we’ll say we talked about, but won’t. In The Informers, she played a bird so fraile, her every movement made the needle on the record player jump. You ached for her because she was WINONA RYDER playing a slutbag whore in an adaptation of Brett Easton Ellis’ worst book. I actually wanted her to die in Autumn in New York just so the movie could end, because it was a little creepy that I was the only one in the movie theater for the eight o’clock show. Her shoplifting scandal? A few years too early for the Kim Kardashian-famous-for-nothing set, but I still bought the t-shirt. Shook my fists, stomped my feet. All for naught, sadly, because deep down I knew she stole those clothes.
Naturally, I blamed Gwyneth Paltrow — the lithe blonde who couldn’t string a cogent sentence together, much less get into college, even with Steven Spielberg’s help — for all of it. It’s imperative to get close to one’s enemies, so I watched all of her films (even Shallow Hall), and kicked a chair over when she won the Oscar for a movie named after an author she’s probably never read. Don’t get me wrong — watching her movies hasn’t been a complete exercise in futility — for every Shallow Hall and Great Expectations (whatever, you just liked the wardrobe and romance of it all), there was Hard Eight and Flesh and Bone. She’s given some vulnerable performances amidst the ingenue roles. Remember when she dated the ketchup king? I do, because I knew a friend of his that confirmed she was an entitled head-case, but now I’m being a petty asshole, so we’ll just move right along.
With the arrival of GOOP, I knew her day of reckoning was upon us. Who would take a woman hocking $900 cashmere throws and $52,000 “aspirational wardrobes” seriously? Apparently, America did. Millions of kewpie dolls went macrobiotic and purchased $500 beaded bracelets, which one could easily make for $5.99. Many wanted the whitewashed life of clean, freckled faces and Jennifer Meyer necklaces. Naturally, I screamed into pillows and prayed for the day when Winona would come like a plague of swallows, and launch a zine that would celebrate the fine art of cheeseburger-eating, Roth-reading and chain-smoking (note: I do not support smoking).
No such luck.
When I say that I’ve been a fan of Winona Ryder since high school, a time when she waxed poetic on Salinger and red lipstick, believe it with all of your heart. From her strange, cultish literary upbringing, to her bizarre films, she was an idol for losers in Long Island. Winona read the books I read. Winona had the corpse-like pallor of which everyone in my high school loved to ridicule.
Brief digression: What I wouldn’t give for a Where Are They Now? about all the rat bastards who tormented me during those forgettable years at Valley Stream South High School.
As you can imagine, I’ve been praying for Winona Ryder’s triumphant return (rosary beads, candles, the whole nine) for years. When I read her latest interview in Interview, I spent the greater part of one evening trying to track down last month’s issue (again, no such luck). Clearly, Winona is classy and will only ridicule GOOP from the confines of her Williamsburg apartment. Surely, Winona will forgive the fact that while I often want to pummel Paltrow, I quite like her cookbook.
THE STRUGGLE.
I’ve a friend coming around tomorrow, and she’s got a gluten allergy. After combing the usual sites and suspects, I discovered the BIG GOOP’ers Millet Falafel recipe. Since I’m allergic to avocado and had a pile of carrots to use up, I decided to nix the relish and go full-on with a carrot salad. Per usual, the goddamn-this-is-delicious commentary ensued, and I even thought the recipe would be better all mashed up, fried and tossed with arugula. I plan to play around with it over the next few weeks, because, quite frankly, if I go through another collapsed ball in the pan, I’m kicking someone. Possibly Gwynnie.
INGREDIENTS: Millet Falafel recipe adapted from Gwyneth Paltrow’s It’s All Good (with adjustments and clarifications); Carrot Salad recipe adapted from La Tartine Gourmande (modified slightly).
For the falafel
1/2 cup raw millet, rinsed
1/2 cup cooked chickpeas (or Garbanzo beans), crushed with a potato masher or using the tines of a fork
4 scallions, white and light green parts only, thinly sliced
1/4 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley
1 lemon
3 1/2 tbsp olive oil, divided (2 tbsp for the falafel, the remainder for the pan)
Coarse sea salt
For the carrot salad
4 large carrots, peeled
1 tbsp flat leaf parsley, chopped
2 tbsp scallions, chopped
For the carrot salad vinaigrette:
sea salt + pepper
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
1 garlic clove, minced
6 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
DIRECTIONS
For the carrot salad: Grate the carrots and place in large bowl with the parsley and scallions. Since I’m lazy and loathe to grate anything, I bought grated carrots 1 1/2-2 cups worth, and added them to a bowl. In a separate smaller bowl, combine the vinaigrette ingredients in the order listed, whisk together and pour over the carrots. The salad can be refrigerated or served at room temperature.
For the falafel (I made this sans garnish. If you want the whole shebang, GOOP IT.)
Combine the millet with 1½ cups of water and a big pinch of a salt in a saucepan. Bring to a boil, lower the heat, cover the pot, and cook until the millet is very soft and all the liquid has been absorbed, 25 minutes.
Stir the chickpeas, scallions, and parsley into the cooked millet. Using a grater, zest the lemon and stir the zest into the millet mixture along with 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Using a potato masher, crush the mixture until it holds together a bit.
Preheat the oven to 250ºF and line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
Set a nonstick skillet over medium-high heat and coat the bottom with a slick of olive oil (1 1/2 tbsp). Drop large tablespoonfuls of the millet mixture into the pan with a bit of space between each spoonful. Press each tablespoonful down with the back of a spatula to form a sort of thick pancake (no need to go crazy shaping these, they should be nice and rustic). Cook until browned and crisp, about 3 minutes per side. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO FLIP UNTIL AFTER THREE MINUTES. I experienced a wretched ball collapse, which sent me into hysterics. Set the cooked falafel on the prepared baking sheet and put them in the warm oven while you cook the rest of the millet mixture, adding more olive oil to the skillet if necessary.
Cut your zested lemon into wedges, squeeze a bit of juice over each falafel, and sprinkle each with a tiny pinch of coarse salt. Serve immediately.
burrata, arugula + edamame salad
Posted on May 6, 2013
Words cannot express how much I LOVED this salad. Riding into the city, I flipped through the latest issue of Bon Appetit, and I felt the rapture coming. The original recipe calls for sugar snap peas, but I opted to use protein-packed edamame instead. The salad is light, flavorful and perfect with chunks of a fresh baguette.
After a breakfast of blueberry pancakes with my sweet friend Alex, believe me when I say that this would make for a very virtuous, albeit delicious, follow-up. Although I should be clear: I do not regret the BLUEBERRY PANCAKES WITH ROSEMARY SAUSAGE.
INGREDIENTS: Recipe adapted from Bon Appetit, and modified slightly.
Serves 4
8 ounces shelled, cooked + cooled edamame (I use frozen edamame, cook for 4 minutes, drain + rinse with cool water)
4 cups arugula, thick stems trimmed
1/4 cup fresh basil leaves plus more for serving
1/4 cup fresh mint leaves plus more for serving
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons (or more) fresh lemon juice
Flaky sea salt (such as Maldon)
1 pound burrata or fresh buffalo mozzarella
DIRECTIONS
Combine cooked and rinsed edamame, arugula, 1/4 cup basil, and 1/4 cup mint in a large bowl. Add oil and 2 tablespoons lemon juice and toss to coat. Season salad with salt and more lemon juice, if desired.
Tear open balls of burrata (if using buffalo mozzarella, slice 1/2-inch thick) and arrange on a platter. Top with salad and more basil and mint.
sweet + spicy quinoa hash
Posted on May 5, 2013
Never settle for anything less than extraordinary. Every morning I say this to myself, and I believe it. You have this one great, sweeping life, so why should it be mediocre? Why should it be a thing through which you slouch rather than something to which you triumphantly leap? Even in my darkest days — and I’ve had my share, believe me — I try to ferret out beauty from even the most trivial things.
Today I witnessed someone settle. My friend Kate was trying on skirts and I was there to provide honest feedback and comic relief, and I watched as a woman stared at herself in a dress that clearly gave her discomfort. You could tell that she really wanted to make the dress work (she tried on various sizes, deliberated extensively with her friend and two sales associates), and stared at herself in the mirror as if willing the dress to be everything she wish it could.
It took everything in me to not interrupt. To tell her that there are other dresses, ones which will put her heart on pause, the kind that will make her jump up and down. But I didn’t, and I watched her skulk to the register and spend $200 on the ordinary.
Since I’ve returned from Europe, I’ve been having this craving for virtuosity. Call it a croissant rebellion, but I’m finding that I want quinoa, kale and piles of vegetables. However, eating healthy sometimes suffers a bad rap, and no matter how hard I soak quinoa it’ll never be a bacon cheeseburger and fries.
I MEAN. LET’S GET REAL HERE. LET US FROLIC IN THE WORLD THAT WE LIKE TO CALL REALITY.
I’m determined to find delicious recipes that will surprise me. Recipes that will not have me reaching for a bowl of cereal in an hour’s time. Enter the yummy sweet potato hash. When I found this recipe in Women’s Health, I ripped it out and was determined to make it, and I’m THRILLED to relay that the hash does not disappoint. From the extraordinary flavors to the fact that it was actually FILLING, my only regret was not making more of it. In future iterations, I definitely see me adding toasted pistachios or pine nuts, and perhaps a smattering of goat cheese.
My recommendation? MAKE THIS NOW. AS IN RIGHT NOW.
INGREDIENTS: Recipe adapted from Women’s Health, with modifications
For the quinoa*
1 1/2 cups vegetable stock
1 cup quinoa, rinsed under cold water for 1 minute
For the hash
2 tsp coconut oil
a pinch of red pepper flakes (1/8 tsp)
3/4 cup cubed sweet potato (this is about 1/2 of a large sweet potato)
1/2 cup chopped kale (I prefer baby kale leaves of Tuscan kale, not the curly kind)
1 clove minced garlic
1/2 cup of the cooked quinoa
1/8 tsp sea salt
*This will make four servings. I like to make quinoa in bulk, so I can add it to sweet + savory dishes.
DIRECTIONS
For the love of god, please rinse your quinoa. Your dish will benefit from sitting under a faucet for a minute. Once your quinoa is rinsed, add it to your stock and bring the mixture to a boil. Once it’s bubbling, reduce the heat to low and simmer, covered, for 15 minutes, or until all of the water is absorbed.
While the quinoa is cooking, melt your coconut oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add a pinch of red pepper flakes and the cubed sweet potato, then sauté for 5-7 minutes. Stir in the chopped kale, minced garlic and the sea salt, and sauté for 3 minutes, or until the leaves have wilted. Add the cooked quinoa and heat through for another minute.
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.
eats in biarritz, france
Posted on April 27, 2013
Those who know me well know I’m a creature of habit. Once I like a spot, I tend to fixate on it and ignore everything else within a ten-mile radius. Closing in on a much-needed (we’re talking dire straights, people) three-week European food odyssey, I’ve had my share of mediocre food, so every place I patron is heavily researched and every menu, inspected. There’s also the issue of price, as I’ve passed a few Michelin-starred spots, whose menus are pretty exorbitant.
Naturally, my preferred spots are far from French (cue the shame chorus), but it’s been interesting to see the Basque influence on Italian + Mexican cooking.
Possibly my favorite of the lot is Taco Mex. Located down a steep alleyway, you wouldn’t think much of the place at first glance. You’re greeted with a large billboard of a menu outlined with a glowing cactus, but inside, INSIDE, the food is spectacular and the service, personalized.
The owner not only prepares your dishes in front of you, but guides you to the “taco bar” and explains the magic: sauce pairings, accoutrements and the like. To say that I didn’t dream of the potatoes cooked in chorizo fat dressed with crème fraîche would be a vast understatement. The sauces are extraordinary, the guacamole homemade, and even the CHIPS (homemade) are stellar. I’ve been hitting this place every night and it fails to disappoint.
If you adore Italian food just as much as I do, you will want to check out Al Dente and Il Giardino — a block separates the two. Both have been my go-to lunch spots, as they have a stellar prix-fixe ($13-$16 for a three-course meal), and the homemade pasta is spot-on. Il Giardino won my heart with its gnocchi, puffed pillows covered in a delicate four-cheese sauce and its tender miniature meatballs.
Over the past three weeks, I’ve traveled to capitals and small towns, and never did I think that my memories would be rooted in Tuscany, Biarritz and San Sebastian. Places where I thought I’d pass through, not remain, settle and completely relax.
dispatches from firenze: the finest chicken you’ll ever eat in your life
Posted on April 12, 2013
We tell ourselves stories in order to live…We look for the sermon in the suicide, for the social or moral lesson in the murder of five. We interpret what we see, select the most workable of the multiple choices. We live entirely, especially if we are writers, by the imposition of a narrative line upon disparate images, by the “ideas” with which we have learned to freeze the shifting phantasmagoria which is our actual experience. ― Joan Didion, The White Album
Last night I slept on pavement, a sliver of concrete that is a terrace that overlooks the Ponte Vecchio. My journey started one way and ended in another. I tossed. I turned. I fluffed and punched pillows. I read Susan Faludi’s searing profile of the radical feminist, Shulamith Firestone, a woman who sought an unimpeded love but would never find it. I tongued pills and spit them out again. Until finally, I made a makeshift bed on my postage stamp of a terrace and fell asleep.
This is what happens when you allow things to consume you. All this anxiety over two bags making their way, albeit at a snail’s pace, to my hotel in Florence. All the while I convinced myself I was fine, just fine, and I’d prove it by going manic on social media. The equivalent of throwing a blanket over a fire, who knew my thumping heart would be composed of kindling? Who knew I’d burn from the inside out? Who knew the whole of the past two months would plague me, like swallows, and I’d drown in the swarm. Water. Fire. One tends to oscillate between the extremes.
But. But. I refuse to let this happen when I’ve made this brave decision to leave a job that was killing me, when I finally pried open my eyes and mouth, and let all the moth balls flutter out. Then I let all the right people in. No way will I be my own ruin. So I did what I know best to do and took some time, and will continue taking it. We often want to create tremendous noise — a holocaust of sound — all because we’re frightened to hear our own voice. We’re terrified of the words we might say, thoughts that give shape and form to our singular experience. When we say it out loud it suddenly becomes real, and can we bear it out? Can we endure the hours after?
So this is what I tried to do. I spent the early morning hours in the Uffizi, wandering the galleries. What a joy it was to ghost the rooms of a near-empty museum, a place free of phones, cameras and the hoards of chattering groups. It was just me, my own footfalls, and a considerable amount of Botticellis.
Later, tipped off by Lauren, I checked out Trattoria Sostanza (read Elizabeth Minchilli’s astute review). Tucked away on a side street, the eatery is nondescript, homely even, but the word-of-mouth on the pollo al burro was too formidable to dismiss.
I NEED TO PAUSE HERE AND SIMPLY STATE THAT TODAY I’VE EATEN THE BEST CHICKEN I WILL LIKELY EVER EAT. IN. MY. LIFE.
Two breasts are charred while butter browns. The meat is dredged in egg and flour and cooks in cast-iron pan in a pool of sweet butter. The result are tender breasts steeped in butter and thawing the iceberg that is my heart. One would think that the dish would be heavy, fatty, but this is not the case. The technique locks in the flavor, and the chicken is neither greasy or heavy, but rather tender and yielding. OBVIOUSLY I DIPPED EACH PIECE OF MEAT INTO BUTTER. OBVIOUSLY.
And can we talk about the butter lettuce salad? Normally, I’m all blase about an appetizer, but the leaves were so fresh and the oil so perfect I nearly cried eating my salad.
The seating is communal, so I queried folks around me and everyone was thick in the business of cleaning their plate. From thick slabs of beef steak to stuffed tortellini to rich soups, everyone was lapping it up with the fresh ciabatta.
I left, satiated and calmer than I was the following evening. The rest of the day was spent napping, walking, climbing 436 steps to the Duomo cupola and reading Joan Didion.
dispatches from florence: food in firenze {1}
Posted on April 11, 2013
Would you believe that as soon as I dumped my bags at the hotel and yelled at Alitalia, I ran out into the streets of Florence determined to eat. Typing this now, I’m pining for a green juice as I’ve never eaten so much pasta, focaccia, gelato, and parma ham in a span of three days. Imagine the moment when I set eyes on a chicken breast — I nearly cried. Don’t get me wrong, a woman loves her crudo with the best of them, but I am longing for some virtue. Or for my Tracy Anderson DVDs to arrive in Florence. THANKS, ALITALIA!
But onward! When traveling to Florence, elastic is highly recommended. Leggings, yoga pants, anything that will refrain from reminding you that no sane person should be eating gelato at EVERY. SINGLE. MEAL. or BEFORE. AND. AFTER. MEALS. (read: me). I first hit up Venchi, home to artisanal chocolate since 1878. From the cocoa-topped, feather-light cappuccinos to the whipped dark chocolate gelatos to the rows of wrap individual chocolates, you will want to bathe in nougat. Spy on the robust outdoor leather market from the upstairs nook, whilst sipping your coffee.
Since it was a few scant hours since my last gelato fix, I decided to hop into Coronas Cafe. Located near the Duomo, you’ll find unexpected flavors (figs, passionfruit, coconut creme, mandarine, meringue) along with the usual suspects, and the price is pretty favorable for an ice cream that was creamy, light, luscious and flavorful. The space is open + colorful, and if you’re not keen on cones and sweets, swing by the other side for a bevy of mortadella sarnis, crudos, sandwiches, cookies, cornettos and other Florentine delights. You won’t be disappointed, and since it’s been a few hours since my last gelato, I might slip out after writing this post and tuck myself in an alleyway with some passionfruit. Consider me addicted.
Usually I eschew all eateries recommended by hotels, as they’re often in financial cahoots, leaving me with tepid greens, suspicious lighting, and an outrageous bill. However, everyone in the free world has raved about my hotel, which I quite like save for the odd smell in the lobby (for another time, friends), so I decided to break my cardinal rule and ferret out recommendations from the concierge. And I’m glad I did, for Caffe Pitti was an exquisite pick. Steps away from the Ponte Vecchio and located on the Palazzo Pitti, the restaurant offers traditional Florentine dishes with a touch of creativity. Their quite known for their truffles from the natural reserve of San Miniato, a true rarity which highlights Pitti as the one and only place where each dish assumes an extraordinary depth. For fifteen euros, I enjoyed a delicious primi of pesto and perhaps the best chicken I’ve had in years. Soaked in lemon and butter, the breast was tender, falling apart, and begged to be consumed, voraciously. And if you’re not keen on a full-on meal, you can opt to order a DIY sandwich from Botteghina, where you can sample local cheeses and meats from the region — all on fresh focaccia.
Are you surprised that I found a cookie? I stumbled upon Migone, an old-school sweets shop located near the Duomo. Although the prices are steep (I spent $40 for these cookies + a few packages of homemade chocolates), the confections are decadent. You’ll find traditional Florentine sweets including panforte, ricciarelli and cantuccini, as well as delightfully packaged chocolates and candied sweets. Well worth a visit, albeit an expensive one.
Finally, a former coworker informed me of a sandwich spot I would’ve surely missed: All’Antico Vinaio. If you’re aching for a spot that is purely patroned by the locals, this is it. It’s a proverbial shoebox joint, with a great wine list and a terrific selection of fresh meats and local cheeses. The bread, my friends, is FUCKING OUTSTANDING. I stood outside the eatery and devoured my sandwich. Did I mention that the bread was WARM and YIELDING. I will definitely be back for more.
Would you believe this is only my first day? Clearly I’ll need some Crisco to make it through customs at JFK.
risotto with greens + a decadent chocolate cake — it’s all virtuous!
Posted on April 6, 2013
The hardest part of telling people about the goodness in Gwyneth Paltrow’s cookbook is getting past the hot mess that is Gwyneth Paltrow and that rarified world of which she believes to be our reality. In Gwyneth’s world, we’re sporting $850 leather shorts, charring paper-thin pizzas in our outdoor ovens, and frolicking through reeds of grass whilst munching on Amagansett apples. Part of me hopes that Winona Ryder will resurface from her stupor and launch the anti-GOOP, a noir-hued website where a chain-smoking, cheeseburger-eating life is as good as it gets. However, this idyll is very much a Waiting for Godot situation, and I’ve admitted, albeit grudgingly, that Paltrow’s book is quite good. My friend Hitha has decided to ignore Paltrow and instead give credit to Paltrow’s co-writer, Julia Turshen.
I very much like this strategy.
To say that Hitha and I adore food is an understatement. Devoted followers of the gospel that is Michael Pollan, ardent believers in the notion that our body is the home in which we want to live rather than the apartment we’re renting, my sweet friend and I often get together and spend days cooking, eating, and photographing our food. You’ll find us standing on top of chairs, adjusting plates, contemplating linens and trying to find that shot, and I’m humbled to have found such a kindred spirit. So on a day that whispers spring, we decided to give a bunch of Gwynnie’s recipes a go.
On the menu? A virtuous verdant risotto, a kale salad dressed with seasoned turkey bacon (I hope my Twitter friend Michael isn’t reading this!), and a decadent two-layer chocolate cake with “buttercream.” Hitha made the killer risotto and salad, while I focused on dessert, and I have to say that we did a pretty fox job! We marveled over the rich, satiny texture of the risotto (sans cheese!) and the buttercream that had no dairy or butter, yet tasted very much like the real deal. Here’s to eating mindfully and a meal that left us satiated.
Risotto with Greens: Adapted from It’s All Good, with modifications
INGREDIENTS + DIRECTIONS
1 quart vegetable stock
1 lemon
2 tbsp olive oil
1/2 yellow onion, finely diced (about 3/4 cup)
1 leek, white and light green parts only, throughly washed and finely diced
2 garlic cloves, finely minced
leaves from 6 sprigs of thyme
coarse sea salt
1 cup Arborio rice
2 cups baby spinach (we didn’t have this on hand, but will definitely add this next time)
1/4 cup chopped basil
Freshly ground black pepper
Warm the vegetable stock in a small pot and set it on the back burner over low heat. Using a Microplane grater or a zester, zest the lemon and set the zest aside. Cut the lemon in half, juice it and set the juice aside.
Meanwhile, heat the olive oil in a large, heavy pot set over high heat. Add the onion and leek, turn the heat down to medium, and cook until the vegetables just begin to soften, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and thyme along with a big pinch of salt and cook until all the aromatics are, well, aromatic, another 2 minutes.
Turn the heat to high, add the rice and the reserved lemon juice and stir to combine all the ingredients. Cook until the lemon juice is just evaporated and then stir in a ladleful of the warm stock. Continue to stir the risotto until the stock is absorbed, then stir in another ladleful of stock.
Continue in this manner until the rice is cooked through and you’ve used all your stock, about 20 minutes. At this point your arm should feel as if it’s going to fall off and the rice should be luxuriously creamy and rich.
Stir in the reserved lemon zest, the greens (these will cook with the risotto’s residual heat), the basil and a few healthy grinds of pepper. Serve immediately.
Kale Salad with Gwyneth’s “Momo’s Special Turkey Bacon”
INGREDIENTS + DIRECTIONS
6 cups of mixed kale leaves, chopped
1 cup shredded carrots
2 tbsp olive oil
Salt/pepper
8 oz pack of turkey bacon (8 slices)
2 tbsp yellow mustard
2 tbsp maple syrup
Mix the greens with the carrots and toss in the olive oil, salt + pepper to taste. Set aside.
Pre-heat the broiler (or oven to 450F). Lay the bacon on a foil-lined cookie sheet. Whisk together the mustard and the syrup. Using a pastry brush (or spoon), “paint” half of it on the slices. Broil for one minute, then turn it and coat the other side of each slice with the remaining mixture. Broil for another 1-2 minutes, or until crispy. Break up the bacon into chunks and toss into the salad.
Chocolate Cake + Darleen’s Healthy Buttercream
INGREDIENTS + DIRECTIONS
For the Cake: Click here for the recipe. Instead of using a cupcake/muffin tin, grease two nine-inch cake pans. Bake for 18 minutes at 350F (the recipe calls for 20, but I thought the cake too done. I’d start checking after 15 minutes), and allow to completely cool for 20 minutes before icing with the buttercream. I like to layer some cream in the middle and on top. Since I like my cakes to be a little rough around the edges, I tend to not go in for the luxe side-sweep, allowing for you to see the contrast of cake and cream from all sides. A woman loves a little crumble on her plate.
One thing Hitha + I noticed that we should bring to your attention. This cake dough is incredibly delicate. I thought this was a result of my flubbed measurements in yesterday’s cupcakes, but since you don’t have egg as the binding agent, the cake will fall apart pretty easily, so handle with care.
Another point to make, the recipe notes that one could use 8 and 9 inch pans interchangeably without denoting the change in cooking times, which is a MAJOR MISS. The density is a marked difference, and I would venture that I’d need 20 minutes for an 8inch pan (as you have a denser cake) and 15-18 minutes for the 9 inch. Although I love the book, I’m starting to see minor errors that can affect the dishes. Not critical for cooking, but tantamount for baking.
For the Buttercream
2 cups Spectrum organic shortening (room temperature). This is a non-hydrogenated palm oil, available at speciality and health food stores, as well as Whole Foods.
1 cup tapioca starch (or tapioca flour, which is the same thing)
1 cup agave nectar (or Grade A light maple syrup)
1 tbsp pure vanilla extract
Place all the ingredients in the bowl of an electric (or stand) mixer and beat with the whisk attachment until light and fluffy. The frosting can be refrigerated for up to one month, but bring it back to room temperature and rewhip before using.
While this whipped cream doesn’t taste exactly like the buttercream to which we’ve been accustomed, my knee-jerk reaction was that it resembled whipped marshmallow or marshmallow fluff. The texture is spot-on and the taste light and sweet. Hitha brought her hubby over and this was definitely a crowd favorite.
mexican rice + bean casserole
Posted on April 1, 2013
After a dark week, a semblance of the woman I used to be is slowly returning and I couldn’t be more thrilled. This week presents all sorts of excitement from a new opportunity, to a meeting with my book agent to discuss a new project, to catching up with friends, to preparations for my three-week European holiday, I’ve much to do in a small amount of time. In the midst of all the frenzy, I did manage to squeeze in time this weekend to have a proper dinner on my deck, replete with napkins, sparkling water and a soothing candle — my version of burning sage, if you will.
Cheers to my private cleaning, and I hope you’ll enjoy this superb dish just as much as I did!
INGREDIENTS: Recipe courtesy of Blue Apron
1 cup medium grain brown rice
2 tbsp vegetable base (paste)
1 tbsp Mexican spice blend (fennel, cayenne, turmeric and chili powder)
1 yellow bell pepper
1 red bell pepper
1 red onion
1 avocado, ripened
1 lime
1 bunch of cilantro (1/4-1/2 cup chopped, depending on your preference)
1 can black beans, drained and rinsed
4 corn tortillas
1/4 cup shredded cheddar cheese
DIRECTIONS
Make the rice: Preheat the oven to 425F. In a medium skillet bring 2 1/2 cups of water, vegetable base, spice blend, a pinch of salt and rice to a boil. Once it’s bubbling, reduce the heat to low, cover and simmer for 20 minutes or until the rice has absorbed all of the water.
Prepare your mis en place: Cube the avocado and squeeze some lime juice so it won’t oxidize and turn brown. Cut the peppers into strips. Finely dice the onion. Roughly chop the cilantro. Shred the cheese. Cut the tortilla into strips.
Cook the vegetables: In a large pan, heat olive oil on high until the pan becomes hot. Reduce the heat to medium, and add the onions and peppers and cook for three minutes. I like to add a pinch of salt so the onions sweat and don’t burn. Once the veggies have softened, add the rinsed black beans and cook for another two minutes. While this is happening, toss the tortilla strips in olive oil and spread out on a medium baking sheet. Bake in the oven for 5 minutes, tossing the strips halfway through the process. You want the strips crispy but not brown. Set aside everything.
Bake the casserole: Toss the cooked rice in the vegetable pan and transfer the mixture to a large baking dish, spreading the ingredients evenly. Top with grated cheese and cook in the oven for 5-7 minutes until the cheese is melted and lightly browned.
Finish it off!: Top the hot mixture with the tortilla strips, avocado and cilantro. Enjoy!
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!
pizza paninis, red leaf salad, and a hand worth playing…
Posted on March 15, 2013
Those are the facts. Now I lie in the sun and play solitaire and listen to the sea (the sea is down the cliff but I am not allowed to swim, only on Sundays when we are accompanied) and watch a hummingbird. I try not to think of dead things and plumbing. I try not to hear the air conditioner in that bedroom in Encino. I try not to live in Silver Wells or in New York or with Carter. I try to live in the now and keep my eye on the hummingbird. I see no one I used to know, but then I’m not just crazy about a lot of people. I mean maybe I was holding all the aces, but what was the game? One thing in my defense, not that it matters: I know something Carter never knew, or Helene, or maybe you. I know what “nothing” means, and keep on playing. ― Joan Didion, Play It as It Lays
Even thought it’s last call, I still want to sing the songs that used to make us laugh, the hymns that once made us happy. Even though the floors stink of chlorine and wet mops and the lights glare bright, I want to belt octaves. Every song comes to an end but that doesn’t mean we stop longing for the music. Instead we lift the needle, settle it down, and play it all again. Hoping that the melody will transport us back to a time we were wide-eyed and wet behind the ears, when every day was filled with so much possibility. It reminds us of childhood when we’d make a mess of things, but we didn’t care; we’d run around until nightfall, until we were called back inside. Until we collapsed in our beds and shut our eyes to the dark. We’d live in this private fiction until the adults found us out. There was always a snitch in the group.
Children create worlds that adults find ways to ruin. Because that’s what we do — wreck beautiful things and spend our lives in disrepair. We bring in the suits with their calculators, shiny gadgets and fast maths and they run the formulas, assess the damages and deliver a report that tells us what we already knew: we should have left well enough alone. The cost of repair is so far beyond what we’ve lost. The suits shake their heads, You should have just let them play it as it lays.
Some of us make it out before we get sick on the nostalgia; shuffling the deck we are determined to play out a new hand. When no one is looking we sometimes hum the songs we use to know. Others lock themselves in their private prison of regret, listening to scratched records on repeat. Few of us never look back.
This week is the first mark of the end of an era. A man who has been an incredible mentor to me has left, and it took everything in me not to cry. During his farewell party I read a speech I’d prepared and my hands shook as I read the words aloud, and I told to a roomful of people that I was a better woman because of his friendship and a better leader because of his tireless mentorship. For three years we stood in integrity and one of my favorite people is gone. He is one of the best men I know; he’s one who pushed me to realize my greatness, and my heart broke when he left. All I wanted to do was stop the clocks, rewind, and go back to the days I sat in his office prattling on about this and that. And although I know that our friendship will grow and he’ll be present in my life, it’s still sad that every day I won’t hear the voice that is the only one louder than my own.
So forgive me as I try on sadness for size. Today I told someone that it’s so fucking sad. What’s sad, he asked. All of it. Every last minute of this. Think of it like the loss of a great love. You know that this person isn’t the one, but the break still hurts regardless. You still bruise and ache and cry your eyes out.
What stops me from stepping into that prison and listening to those scratched songs is that there’s a bigger hand left to play.
So I came home, mourned a little, cooked a little, and started shuffling the deck.
INGREDIENTS: Recipe courtesy of Blue Apron
3 cloves garlic
1 small onion
1 shallot
1 persian cucumber
1 carrot
1 sprig fresh oregano
1/2 head red leaf lettuce
fresh mozzarella
1 16oz can crushed tomatoes
2 tbsp parmesan cheese
2 tbsp red wine vinegar
5 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp dijon mustard
2 ciabatta rolls
DIRECTIONS
Get your mise en place: Peel the garlic, onion, shallot, cucumber and carrot. Finely dice the onion, garlic and shallot. Thinly slice the cucumber and carrot. Pick the oregano leaves off the step and roughly chop. Wash, dry, and roughly chop the lettuce leaves. Slice the mozzarella.
Make the sauce: Heat 2 tbsp of olive oil in a pan and sauté the onions and garlic for one minute under low heat. Add in the can of tomatoes, salt and pepper to taste. Cook on medium-low for ten minutes until the sauce thickens. I loathe chunky tomatoes so I used an immersion blender to smooth out the sauce once it was done. But this is me and I have texture issues so if you love the chunk, embrace the chunk.
Make the dressing: While the sauce is cooking, whisk the shallots, 3 tbsp olive oil, mustard and vinegar in a bowl until completely combined. Set aside.
Assemble the panini: Slice the ciabattas in half. Spread a thin layer of sauce on both rolls. Top 2 halves with 2-3 slices of fresh mozzarella and sprinkle half of the oregano on each. Season with salt, pepper and sprinkle a tsp of parmesan cheese over both halves. Carefully put the two halves together.
Grill the panini: I’m privileged that I had a panini press so I went crazy and added the sandwiches to the press. If you don’t have one, don’t fret. Heat a large pan until medium-hot and add the sandwiches. Place a heavy pot to weigh them down. Cook about three minutes a side until the cheese is melted and the bread is toasty.
Dress the salad + serve!: Toss the greens, carrots, cucumbers and dressing together in a large bowl and prepare half of the salad on two plates. Serve with the piping hot paninis, careful not to burn your mouth like I did!
