love.life.eat
a relentless pursuit of the perfect home + dish
walking the batignolles biologique {organic} market, paris
Posted on April 20, 2013
As you weave through the stalls, you’ll grow ravenous from the smell of roasting, herbed chicken. You’ll lean into the peonies and wonder how flowers could possibly be so pink. You’ll witness vendors arranging their wares much like designers in an atelier drape garments over lithe mannequins, with care and passion. You might see a duck. You’ll dab a bit of lavender oil on the undersides of your wrists. You wonder where’s kale until you realize it’s not in season. You’ll pause in front of the wine and wish you could have a sip without all the three-piece luggage. You’ll wrap a scarf around your neck but it’s never the way the Parisians do it. You’ll see a man holding a sign that reads: dog for sale. He’s homeless, an interloper, and this is the last hand he can play. You feel the tears well up and don’t know why, but you notice that most of the homeless have pets, companions who are loyal and sleep by their side, and this kills you in ways you never imagined. You’ll realize that fleur del sel is cheaper in Paris. You’ll realize that you were once a girl who bought chickens and cigarettes in bodegas, so how is it that you know the word, fleur del sel? You’ll see men arrange flowers. Women arrange fish heads. Children arranging themselves around one another. You’ll hear, Ça va? over and over again. You’ll suck on an orange rind, and then wonder if it’s dangerous, but you do it anyway. You notice no one thinks you’re American. You leave. You can’t figure out where a certain street is located on your iPhone map until a girl unfolds an accordion map and shows you the way. You think that sometimes it’s good to have something to hold on to.
The Batignolles Biologique Market, 17 éme, is on Saturdays along Boulevard de Batignolles. Metro: Rome or Place de Clichy.
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!
my “fever” salad: tofu + chinese broccoli with soba noodle salad
Posted on February 17, 2013
Part of me wants to call this my fever salad, as “fever” is an often-used moniker for lemongrass, the crisp, astringent herb native to tropical regions of Asia and Africa. Two years ago I found myself in front of the Indian Ocean, the sand a blanket before my feet, and I remember feasting on a plate of noodles tossed with lemongrass. The meal was simple, citrusy, fragrant and delicious, and as the sun dipped into the ocean, rendering the water a vibrant pink hue, I felt feverish. I felt as if I’d never feel this calm or free again. I blasted the Bird and the Bee’s “Preparedness” on repeat and as Bali succumbed to the night, folded into its darkness, I lay down on the shoreline, plate by my side and counted the stars.
You may also have noticed I’m on a bit of a noodle kick. Between chowing on pasta and rhapsodizing about my major life change, I haven’t kept track of what I’ve been posting here, it’s just been raw and organic. However, I promise to hit the stand mixer soon because I’m missing my biscuits and fluffy cakes.
INGREDIENTS: Recipe courtesy of Blue Apron (Serves 3, generously)
1 large bunch Chinese broccoli (you can also use spinach or bok choy)
2 scallions
2 cloves garlic
1 small piece of ginger
1 stalk lemongrass
1 package extra-firm tofu
1 lb (16 oz) soba noodles
2 tbsp mirin
2 tbsp soy sauce
2 tsp sesame oil
1 lime
4 Birdseye chilies
1/4 cup hoisin sauce
DIRECTIONS
Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Wash and dry the Chinese broccoli. Roughly chop the leaves (I’m not a fan of the stalks so I nix them) and finely dice the scallions. Set aside. Peel and finely chop the ginger + garlic, and set them aside as well. Chop off the ends of your lemongrass and peel the stalk until you get to the tender, pale center. The exterior will be pretty fibrous, and as your peel the herb will become more tender and fragrant. Finely chop the lemongrass core and set aside. Press out the excess water out of the tofu with a paper towel and cut into one-inch cubes. As you can tell I wasn’t entirely successful in the cutting process, however, as long as your tofu is drained of all water and is browned on all sides who cares if it’s not pretty as a proverbial picture?
When the water comes to a boil, add the soba noodles and cool until tender, 4-6 minutes.
While the noodles are cooking, line a plate with a layer of paper towels. Heat 1-2 tbsp of olive oil in a medium skillet set to high heat and toss in your tofu, making sure that the tofu browns on all sides, 8-10 minutes. You want to stir occasionally, not like I did, and ended up making what resembles a vegan scramble, but then again this reminded me of the texture of pad see ew, so life is grand. Season with salt + pepper and transfer the tofu to the lined plate when done.
Drain the noodles and rinse with cool water. Transfer to a large bowl. Add the mirin, soy sauce, sesame oil, diced scallions and juice of 1/2 a lime. Toss until well combined and season with salt and pepper to taste.
In the pan you used for the tofu, add a splash of olive oil and toss in the broccoli, garlic, ginger, lemongrass, whole chilis and cook for 2-5 minutes until the greens are verdant and wilted. Add the hoisin sauce and toss to combine.
Divide the soba noodles between three bowls and top the noodles with the delicious tofu + Chinese broccoli mixture. Serve hot, or you can absolutely feast on this as a cold salad.
greek salad on toasted whole wheat pita
Posted on February 2, 2013
Believe me when I say that I’m on the virtuous comeback tour. We’re going to forget the gourmet pizzas, angus cheeseburgers and numerous chocolate confections of last month and a woman is ready to start anew. While last month was the food massacre, this month will be all about regeneration. In short, I MISS KALE {cue heartbreaking song: while my guitar gently weeps}.
So after my workout buddy, Paula, berated me for spin addiction, I joined her in a new Equinox class called “Stacked.” Essentially, it’s 45 minutes of high-interval training where you perform six exercises and stack them on top of one another, with 30-second breaks in between. What started out as squats with a body bar ending with me moving through six strenuous exercise with no breaks. Although I was shades better than my normal fat kid in gym class routine, I’ve realized that I seriously need to mix in strength training on the regular.
When I got home I proceeded to shovel this salad in my mouth and now I’m lying on my couch watching horror movies. Life is GOOD, people.
INGREDIENTS: Recipe courtesy of Blue Apron*
1 small cucumber
1 red bell pepper
1 green Cubanelle pepper
1 head romaine lettuce
6-12 Kalamata olives
2 whole wheat pitas, cut into triangles
1 bunch fresh oregano (enough for 2-3 tbsp)
1 shallot
1 clove garlic
2 tbsp red wine vinegar
2-3 tbsp olive oil
4 oz feta cheese
DIRECTIONS
First, pre-heat your oven to 400F. It’s time to get your mise en place, kids. Peel the cucumber, de-seed it with a spoon, and chop into cubes. Chop the peppers until they’re approximately the same size as the cucumbers. Wash, dry, and rough chop the romaine lettuce and add it to a large bowl. Pit and chop the olives, and guess what? Chop the oregano. Slice the shallot in half, and fine dice one half and slice half-moons with the other. Peel, smash and chop the garlic. In a small bowl, add the red wine vinegar, finely diced shallots and garlic. Set all your goodies aside.
Spread out your pita triangles on a baking sheet and coat them lightly with olive oil. Season with salt + pepper. Bake in the oven for 5 minutes, or until the chips are a golden brown.
While your chips are chipping away {sorry, I couldn’t resist!}, whisk in two-three tablespoons of olive oil to the red wine vinegar mixture. Set aside.
Now assemble your salad by adding all the ingredients and half the feta cheese. This can serve 2 quite well, and 4 as a side dish. I actually broke apart my chips and added them to the salad, much like a fatoosh, instead of having them sit on the side as the recipe calls.
*I’m absolutely in no way, shape or form remunerated for gushing over Blue Apron. I subscribe to their weekly service and I’m a true brand evangelist.
coconut jasmine rice with bok choy, cashews + golden raisins
Posted on February 1, 2013
It does not seem to me, Austerlitz added, that we understand the laws governing the return of the past, but I feel more and more as if time did not exist at all, only various spaces interlocking according to the rules of a higher form of stereometry, between which the living and the dead can move back and forth as they like, and the longer I think about it the more it seems to me that we who are still alive are unreal in the eyes of the dead, that only occasionally, in certain lights and atmospheric conditions, do we appear in their field of vision. ― W.G. Sebald, Austerlitz
It occurs to me that I’ve been artfully dodging mirrors. Washing my face in the dark, making absurd small talk in the bathroom, squinting at mirrors, always — it’s been a long time since I was fearful of the person on the other side of the looking glass. A small part of me knows, but a large part of me doesn’t want to know. That part only wants to fast forward the tape and press play. That part whispers, Soon, soon, not yet. Easy, easy, you’ve got her too high. That part paces the floorboards at night, hoping to smother the clocks. Praying that they don’t start their cruel tick.
But they do, and you freak, and you quote the dead {HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME} and watch the same horror movies on repeat. Your lidless eyes press shut. Alexis Murdoch croons the word shine for six minutes. For a time you used to stutter when you were young, and now you realize you took comfort in the repetition, the duplicative nature of the echo. It’s a lullaby that tricks you into thinking that time hasn’t moved at all. Then it occurs to you — and this is the violent shaking of a small plane that numbs you down to the bone — that you’re not frightened of seeing your living reflection, but you’re petrified of being imprisoned by your dead one. Hands waving.
That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
Oh keep the Dog far hence, that’s friend to men,
Or with his nails he’ll dig it up again!
You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!
The shift to second person was deliberate. Consider it an inversion of the first for those who need a bit of distance. But you remind yourself that this is the year that you plunged your hand into the earth and you said the words: it’s time. Last month was the ticking of the bomb. This month and all the days forward are the harvest. Come springtime the body was rise, dewy-faced, anew. That once murmuring heart, smothered by the peanut-crunching crowd, will suddenly t. ti. tic. tick. TICK. . Creating an indelible print on the glass. Then spoke the thunder.
But first things, first. Let’s undo the food-shame that was the past month and drown ourselves in a verdant bowl of green…
INGREDIENTS: Recipe courtesy of Blue Apron
1 cup jasmin rice
1 5.6oz can coconut milk
1 head bok choy
2 tbsp cilantro
3 cloves garlic
1/3 cup dried coconut flakes
1/2 cup cashews
3 tbsp golden raisins
1 lime
DIRECTIONS
In a medium pot add the rice, coconut milk and 1 1/3 cup water. Heat to boiling on high and then reduce the heat to lower and simmer the rice, covered, for twenty minutes. While the rice is cooking, finely chop the stems {I nixed the stems as I don’t prefer the texture} and rough chop the leaves and set aside. Finely dice the cilantro and three cloves of garlic and set this aside, as well.
Toast the cashews and coconut on a hot pan on the stove for under a minute. Definitely check the nuts + coconut often as they can burn pretty quickly. Remove from the heat when they’re fragrant and golden and set aside.
When the rice is done, fluff with a fork and add the juice from 1/2 lime, the cashews and golden raisins, 1/2 of the cilantro and toasted coconut. Season with salt and pepper.
In a large skillet, add a tablespoon of olive oil to medium-high heat and sautée the bok choy and garlic for 2-3 minutes, until the leaves are wilted and the stems are softened. Add the bok choy to the rice, and add the remaining cilantro and coconut. Serve hot + enjoy!
baked squash with millet and caponata
Posted on January 12, 2013
Why not have a big life? — Emily Dickinson
Why not have a big life? Have the most extraordinary life there is? Why settle for anything less than extraordinary? Why not live every day jumping out of bed and hurtling yourself into the trees? Why not fall in love with yourself all over again? Why not sleep the sleep of children? Why not take the sun like sacrament? Why not read a book and then read it again? Why not ride the subway to the end of the line? Why not eat a slice of cake in the morning? Why not forget the calories? Why not watch cartoons like you used to? Why not email everyone you know and tell them you love them, love them, love them, just because.
Why not break ranks? Why not tumble out to the unknown?
Today I woke and fell in love with my life. And I finally could see myself here, and then myself, there. And I could finally draw a line between the two.
Did I mention I took my first French class today and that I. LOVED. IT.? And did I mention I got over my fear of eggplant and dove right into this delicious bit of healthy heaven? Did I…Did I?!
INGREDIENTS: Recipe courtesy of Blue Apron Meals (serves 2; 525 calories/serving)
2 medium acorn squash
1/2 cup millet*
1 small zucchini
1 small eggplant
1 red pepper
3 cloves garlic
1 bunch parsley (2-3 tbsp chopped)
2 tbsp red wine vinegar
2 tbsp raw (cane) sugar
2 oz goat cheese
2 tbsp of olive oil
*If you can’t access millet, I think quinoa or bulgur wheat would do quite nicely.
DIRECTIONS
First, pre-heat your oven to 425F and put a medium pot of water to a boil. Cut the tops off the squash, then scoop out the seeds. Although this recipe doesn’t use the seeds, I love them roasted and tossed with some chili (yum!). But I digress. Drizzle the squash with a little olive oil, season with salt and pepper, then place them in the oven on a baking sheet. Since the oil drizzled on my pan I managed to set off the fire alarm in my apartment every thirty seconds. Note to self: line the pan with parchment paper to prevent smoking.
Dice the zucchini, eggplant and red pepper (making sure you de-seed the pepper). Then chop the garlic and roughly chop the parsley. Once the water is boiling, add the millet and boil for 10 minutes, or until the it is tender.
Drizzle 1 tbsp of olive oil into a medium pan, then turn the heat to high. Sauté the eggplant, zucchini and red pepper for 3-4 minutes until the vegetables are soft. It’s important that you cut your vegetables around the same size so that they’ll cook evenly. You may need to add another tbsp of olive oil while your cooking the veggies. After 4 minutes, add the garlic and sugar, and sauté for 30 seconds. Then add the vinegar and most of the parsley. This is your caponata.
Once the millet is done, drain and add to the pan with the caponata. Stir until well combined, then remove from the heat.
Next, remove the squash from the oven and fill with your caponata mixture. Sprinkle the goat cheese over the top, then bake for 15 more minutes, or until the squash is completely tender. If you have extra filling, save it to serve alongside the squash.
Once the squash is tender, remove from the oven and garnish with the remaining parsley and DIG IN!
shredded brussels sprouts with walnuts + olive oil
Posted on December 2, 2012
England looked strange to us returned soldiers. We could not understand the war madness that ran about everywhere, looking for a pseudo-military outlet. The civilians talked a foreign language; and it was newspaper language. — Robert Graves’ Goodbye to All That
There used to be a time when I abhorred the brussels sprout. I loathed it nearly on the level of the MUSHROOM (although, quite honestly, I couldn’t possibly loathe anything more than the mushroom), and found myself, when encountering the sprout, inching it so far off my plate with my fork that it damn well tumbled onto the table cloth. It wasn’t until my friend shoved a forkful of Gottino’s walnut + parmesan brussels sprout salad in my mouth did I fall madly in love.
Last night I had a friend come round, and she’s allergic to nearly every food you can imagine, so dishes have to be dairy, wheat, meat, soy free, which posed a worthy challenge. One of the dishes I served up was this delicious salad, sans cheese, and it was a hit. You won’t believe how simple this is.
INGREDIENTS
1 lb (16oz) brussels sprouts, rinsed and cleaned
1/2 cup chopped walnuts, toasted
juice of 1/2 medium lemon
3 tbsp olive oil
Salt/pepper to taste
DIRECTIONS
Cut the brussels sprout in thin slices and the veggie will begin to yield and fall apart. I tend to pull out all of the shredding and nix the center (which tends to be too bitter for my taste).
Add the shredded pile to a bowl and mix with the walnuts, lemon juice, olive oil, salt + pepper. Serve!
provencal markets: place richelme, aix en provence
Posted on September 26, 2012
That she had so completely recovered her sanity was a source of sadness to her. One should never be cured of one’s passion. ― Marguerite Duras, Ravishing of Lol Stein
Strange that I came to France carrying a book about another place: California. One couldn’t conceive of two disparate places, but when you think about it what both have in common is the ravaging; they both bear the weight of their name and the history of it. Wearers of masks, they are pranced out in all their finery and plumage, but in the quiet, in the actinic blue of evening, they are both places filled with people who are trying so desperately define where it is from which they’ve come. I’m reading Joan Didion’s Where I Was From. Part history, part folklore, part memoir, this stark work is a siren song to the place that has been the specter in Didion’s work. As she navigates generations of her family — the duplicity and ferocity of a state that was once considered the promised land for many, Hades for others — you’re alongside her, trying to assemble the shards of glass, trying to piece this strange world, this life back together again.
You might wonder what this has to do with a farmer’s market in the center of Provence? Good question. I often think in a stream of consciousness. Often see the world in this strange prism where everything doesn’t initially make sense, but after time, it makes perfect sense. I’ve always defined myself as a New Yorker, someone who grew up poor in Brooklyn (not your gentrified Park Slope, Brooklyn, but further south), but before I left I had a strange conversation with an acquaintance. I was telling her that people often don’t connect the woman I am now to the girl I was back then, and I tell this friend that after my memoir was published I went back to the old neighborhood. Not once, twice, but multiple times, because I had a hard time confronting the fact that while the place had remained unchanged, I was demonstrably different. I no longer blended; I was an outsider. I couldn’t make sense of this because at the time I didn’t fit in in my old world, I had a tough time with my new one, so was it possible that I had been banished to the betweens?
Years later, the person who I was to become started to emerge. And one part of this person was a lifelong passion, obsession, with food. Cooking it, baking it, eating it, sharing it, writing about it, taking photos of it — I love every single thing about food and what it brings, how it shapes the conversation, how it lingers, how it brings together when nothing else can.
This morning I woke determined to find my home, my center, in a very foreign place in the south of France. A few steps from my hotel (everything in Provence, by the way, is within a 5-minute walk!) I located the famed farmer’s market in Place Richelme. Here you’ll find a charming market of green grocers who sell fruit, vegetables, spices, cheeses, meats and fish to locals and restaurants alike. The produce is remarkable in appearance and taste, and I couldn’t help sampling everything. From fresh-cut carrots and luscious, sanguine figs to plump peaches and verdant greens, I had to remind myself that I’m shopping for a lunch picnic, not groceries for the week! The produce is quite affordable (considering the quality) and proprietors are keen on doling out samples. I didn’t feel odd taking pictures (I often get dirty looks even AFTER I ask folks at the Union Square Market if I can photograph their wares, and I ALWAYS ask and I ALWAYS purchase from said merchant), and the mornings are serene. I returned at different points of the day to witness the growing frenzy, and I was pleased that I had a home away from home, albeit for a little while.
Local producers market
Daily, starting at 8AM-ish
Place Richelme, Aix en Provence, France
