friday breakfast: oatmeal raisin cookies

For me, breakfast is usually yogurt and fruit.  Or oatmeal.  Or eggs.  Or a smoothie.

But sometimes, breakfast is leftover pizza.  Banana bread with a schmear of peanut butter.  Cookies.

(Everything in moderation.  Including moderation.)

I had to go to the office today instead of my usual work-from-home-Friday.  I know, I know.  My life is so hard.  Breakfast this morning was a very large ice coffee with almond milk (I cannot wait until I can put sweetener in my coffee again!) and a green smoothie to-go.  And, as I was unpacking and reloading my work bag, I found one cookie leftover from a batch that I took that I took to work yesterday.  So it, too, became part of my breakfast.  Yes, a cookie.  But have no fear!  It's a cookie that is so healthy, so full of good-for-you grains and healthy fats that you could eat a few of them for breakfast, and it would fall squarely in the "good" category.  It contains the perfect combination of proteins, carbs, and healthy fats to keep you satisfied all morning long.  And of course, it is gluten-free and added sugar free.

Now, before you drag your mouse to the top right corner of your screen and X out since you've already filed this under "ew gross", hear me out.  I happen to be a stickler for butter and sugar.  I don't go for "healthy desserts" - if I am supposed to be "treating" myself - I want the whole nine yards.  I want buttery, sugary goodness - flavor that is so indulgent, rich, and calorically dense that you have to stop after just a few bites.  I would rather eat one decadent cookie than several "healthy" ones that don't hit the spot.

But, when I was soliciting ideas for next week's entries (I still have a couple more spots!), Brent requested another gluten-free, sugar-free sweet treat.  And of course, there are plenty of them out there - but most contain some sort of natural sweetener (agave, maple syrup, honey, stevia, etc.) that I said from the beginning were off-limits.  And lots of them contain the gluten-free flours that, in general, I am trying to avoid.  (For one, they are expensive, and not worth the investment for someone on a temporary dietary change.  Second, I don't think they taste that good, especially without sugar.)

I checked out a couple of my favorite natural foods blogs, and found a recipe I knew would work on 101 Cookbooks.  Heidi Swanson is a vegetarian, natural foods chef, cookbook author, and blogger.  In fact, she is considered one of the preeminent food bloggers - she's been around for ages and has a well-established site that gets millions of hits per year.  I own one of her cookbooks, Super Natural Everyday, and I am obsessed with it.  I make things out of it all. the. time.  The recipes are simple and delicious, and the photography is brilliant, too.  It is a great resource for someone who is just beginning to cook, as she goes into great detail in regards to methods, technique, and process.  It might be better than How To Cook Everything.

Anyway, getting back to my point - Heidi (I like to think we're on a first-name basis) originally posted these cookies on her website, an amalgam of oats, almonds, coconut, and bananas.  And it just so happened that I had everything on hand except for the mashed bananas, so I was sold.  I stopped by Whole Foods to pick up some overripe bananas, and guess what!  The checkout guy gave me the bananas for free.  Screw Safeway and their "discount" bananas that they have to bring up from the warehouse.  At Whole Foods, they are sitting right there, singles in a hanging basket, and they give them to you for free without even asking.  See, I told you it pays to be nice to grocery store employees.

So I came home, skeptically schlepped together the dough, baked them, and dutifully waited for them to cool.  I noted that they had a great texture (though they do crumble a bit if your flour isn't fine enough), and they were moist (sorry) and sweet (thanks, in no small part, to those overripe bananas).  Because I am just a home cook and not an alchemist, these cookies were not full of that saccharine, buttery goodness that you'd get from a real cookie, but still - they were great.  I took these into a meeting yesterday afternoon and they were promptly devoured by everyone around the table.  My project manager had at least four of them.  And nobody could believe they were "healthy".

I made a couple of adaptations to the original recipe.  First, no chocolate for me, so I used sundried, sugar-free raisins instead.  Second, I did not want to buy almond flour, since I don't forsee myself using it again any time soon.  I noticed that the ingredients in almond flour were simply "blanched almonds" so I just pulsed some sliced almonds in my food processor until they formed a grain-like texture.  (And Heidi told me it was okay, so I felt fine about it.)  To yield 2/3 cup of almond flour, I used about 3/4 cup of sliced almonds.  If you go this route, make sure the final product is fine, like sand.  Some of my almonds remained whole (as you can see in the picture), which was a nice textural component, but it didn't end up combining with the other ingredients as well as the almond meal/flour would have.  And don't process too much, or you will end up with almond butter.

Oatmeal Raisin Cookies with Coconut
Adapted, just barely, from 101 Cookbooks
Makes 40 cookies

3 large, ripe bananas, well mashed (about 1 1/2 cups)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 cup coconut oil, barely warm - so it isn't solid (or alternately, olive oil)
2 cups rolled oats
2/3 cup almond meal (I used a little over 2/3 cup of sliced almonds, no salt added, pulsed to a coarse sand-like texture)
1/3 cup shredded, unsweetened coconut
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon fine grain sea salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/3 cup Thompson raisins

1.  Preheat oven to 350 degrees, racks in the top third.
2.  In a large bowl combine the mashed bananas, vanilla extract, and coconut oil. Set aside.
3.  In another bowl whisk together the oats, almond meal, shredded coconut, cinnamon, salt, and baking powder.
4.  Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and stir until combined. Fold in the raisins.  As Heidi says, "the dough is a bit looser than a standard cookie dough, don't worry about it."
5.  Drop dollops of the dough, each about 2 teaspoons in size, an inch apart, onto a parchment-lined baking sheet. As an experiment, I flattened half the drops a little bit, using the back of my spoon.  I found the flatter, more disk-like ones were easier to pick up and eat than the round ones were.   
6.  Bake for 12-14 minutes, or as long as possible without burning the bottoms or browning the coconut.

Have a great weekend!  I am taking it easy and running in the Cherry Blossom 10-Miler on Sunday.  If you have recipes you want me to make for the last week of Lent, please let me know and I will do my best to fit them in!

spring new potato salad

Something really strange went down in my kitchen a couple days ago.  I made potato salad.  Nobody was holding me at gunpoint.  No picky steak-and-potatoes people were coming over for dinner.  It was entirely of my own volition.  And I liked it.

The thing is, I don't actually care for potatoes.  (In my world, there are two kinds of people - rice people and potato people.  Which one are you?)  I might eat roasted fingerling potatoes with rosemary occasionally, but that's about the extent of my potato-eating desire.  I don't love French fries.  Tater tots are just okay.  I don't even really like potato chips, unless they are being used as a vessel for some sort of dip, or unless they are of the salt and vinegar variety.  But you know, the more acceptable ways of eating potatoes, I don't like those one bit.  I don't like them boiled and mashed, unless they are dressed beyond recognition with sour cream and butter.  And I hate baked potatoes - don't even get me started on baked potatoes with cheddar cheese and bacon bits.  Eww.  I will never understand why that's a thing. 

Which is why it is strange that I found myself making potato salad the other day for lunch.  As you can imagine, now that I am (almost) at the end of the Lenten season, I have a few loose odds and ends in my refrigerator.  I decided to do a big refrigerator clean-up and clean out, throwing away what was no longer good, and putting the rest in a big "cook something with this" pile.  When all was said and done, I threw out a cucumber, a bunch of parsley, half an old bell pepper, and a few ounces here and there of homemade salad dressings that smelled funky.  I saved a bunch of radishes, four scallions, and tupperware of previously-canned artichoke hearts.  So, I scanned the Internet for recipes incorporating those ingredients, and I came across one called Spring Cleaning/Potato Salad.  Funny.  The author had done the same "spring cleaning" of her refrigerator, and came up with a potato salad using the remnants.  I made a mental note to pick up some potatoes and give it a shot - otherwise, the ingredients would be headed for the trash in a couple of days.  Worst case scenario?  I'd hate it, in which case I would just give it to friends.

As much as it pains me to admit, I actually love this potato salad.  It is made with small "new potatoes" (aka baby potatoes), which are purposely harvested prematurely.  As immature potatoes, they are small, have a thin skin, and a less offensive texture and flavor than their bigger, tougher counterparts, "old potatoes".  Besides the fact that new potatoes apparently taste better than big old potatoes, this salad has a ton of other redeeming qualities - it is loaded with other vegetables and it is not doused in mayonnaise.  Though, let's be honest.  If it were, I probably wouldn't mind.  Y'all know how I love me some mayonnaise.

I made my version with green onions, artichoke hearts, and radishes sliced paper-thin.  To cut the radishes, I used my mandoline.  You could probably just use a knife if you have any semblance of dexterity and patience, but as you are probably aware, I have neither.  The original recipe calls for frozen green peas, which I don't particularly love, so I was just planning on leaving them out.  However, while the potatoes were boiling, I discovered a bag of field peas that I had frozen at the end of last summer, after my mom had found them at a farm stand in Pungo.  And after a very non-commital flirtation with the idea of adding them, I threw them in at the end.  (That's my idea of living on the edge.)  I couldn't tell what kind of field peas they were, so I called my mom to ask her how long they should cook.

"Oh, they kind of take a long time.  They're gonna need to boil for a while," she said.

By "a while", I thought she meant upward of 40 minutes, like other legumes.  Well, no joke, fifteen minutes after I hung up the phone, my kitchen started smelling like burnt popcorn, and sure enough all the water was absorbed and they were stuck to the bottom of the pan.  Luckily, they didn't taste bad (I think I caught them just in time) so I threw them in there anyway.

So yes, this is kind of an everything-but-the-kitchen-sink potato salad, but it's delicious.  Add whatever you fancy, and adjust according to your tastes.  For example, my mom hates dill, but I bet chives would also be great in it.  Whatever you do, be sure not to let your potatoes boil too long.  You want them to be just barely tender - "fork tender", whatever that means.  I let mine cook for 13 minutes or so.  Transfer the potatoes to a cold ice bath immediately so they stop cooking; this also makes them easier to handle.

This recipe is great served cold or at room temperature, and it is even better the next day.  It would also be great for a late-spring outdoor barbeque.  Man, I can't wait till it's officially grilling season.  Somebody with a grill invite me over....

Spring new potato salad
Adapted very loosely from The Incuisition
Serves 4

1 pound new (baby) potatoes (I used a mix of red and yellow)
4 green onions, chopped (both green and white parts)
1 bunch radishes, cleaned and thinly sliced
1 15-ounce can artichoke hearts, chopped
1 cup field peas, sugar snap peas, or frozen peas
4 sprigs fresh dill, chopped
1/4 cup olive oil
1 tablespoons white wine vinegar
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice (about 1 lemon)
1/2 tablespoon dijon mustard (can use more if you want a real kick...grainy mustard would be good, too)
sea salt and freshly cracked pepper, to taste
1/4 cup crumbled feta cheese (optional)

1.  In a medium pot, boil potatoes until just tender, 12-15 minutes.  Transfer to ice bath and set aside.
2.  If your peas are frozen or uncooked, cover with about an inch of water and let them cook.  Depending on the variety, time will vary from a quick 1-2 minute blanch to a full cook.  Keep an eye on them.
3.  While potatoes are cooling, chop your green onions, radishes, and artichoke hearts, and dill, and combine in a large serving bowl.
4.  In a small bowl, whisk together olive oil, vinegar, mustard, and lemon juice.  Add salt and pepper, to taste.
5.  Chop potatoes and add to bowl with other vegetables and herbs.  Pour dressing over salad, and toss to coat.  Top with feta cheese, if desired.  This is even better after it sits a while, and it's great the next day.

pistachio-encrusted halibut

The most amazing thing happened to me the other day.

It was an 80 degree spring day in DC.  I set off for a post-work jog with my friend Travis, using our steady, "conversational" pace to sound off on my latest irritation in a seemingly endless string of white girl problems and karmic disasters. (It's not called a "conversational" pace for nothing.  And I was taking advantage of a captive audience.)  As we were rounding the Washington Monument and I was finishing the story, (and he was, more likely than not, telling me to quit whining), I found a folded twenty dollar bill on the ground.  No, really.  I stopped and said, "AND THEN I FOUND TWENTY DOLLARS!"  (Which also happens to be my favorite punch line for a terrible story.)  He couldn't believe it, and neither could I.  With the volume of tourists on the National Mall that afternoon, finding money on the Mall was even more of a rarity.  I giddily speculated that maybe my luck was finally turning around, and good karma had returned to my side once again.

Unexpectedly $20 richer, I decided to treat myself and see what kind of overpriced shenanigans were being pushed at my neighborhood Whole Foods.  A fancy cheese and a bottle of wine?  Nah - cheese needs crackers, and I am just as happy with a $10 bottle of wine as a $40 one.  And I don't need a whole bottle to myself.  A nice piece of steak?  Eh, I want a grill for that.  So I wandered over to the seafood counter and started chatting up the fishmonger.  Now, as anybody who goes to the grocery store with me will tell you, I am really friendly with grocery store employees.  Some will say unnecessarily so.  For example, one time I was buying the mini bottles of Gallo cooking wine at Safeway - I don't generally drink white wine, so the mini bottles are convenient for cooking.  I got to the checkout and the checkout girl started telling me about how much she loves the "personal bottles".  Yes, apparently she drinks them.  She wanted to know all about the party I was going to that night, and told me to be careful because people might be trying to slip a mini bottle into their purse.  I didn't have the heart to tell her that I was using it to make fondue.   

But, that instance aside, normally grocery store employees can be very knowledgeable and helpful, and it always pays to ask questions if you're buying something unfamiliar.  If you're sincere, not only can you get discounted bananas, but they are eager to help you pick out a good cheese or a loaf of fresh bread.  They can direct you to the right wine to make mulled wine (just buy the cheapest box, but not the "nasty stuff old people drink out of the jug").  Butchers just love helping young ladies find a proper cut of meat for whatever it is they are cooking, and they generally deliver a nice compliment along with your T-bone.  Fishmongers see the seafood come in every morning, and they know what is the freshest, the tastiest, and the most in-demand.  This fishmonger sold me on a nice piece of halibut.  He just went on and on about the damn fish for a good five minutes.  About how halibut season has just started up in Alaska, and this was the first shipment of the season.  About how it came in that morning and how its eyes were just bulging out and looking him right in the mug.  (TMI?  Apparently that's the sign of a super-fresh fish.)  About how his knife slid through it like butter when he was cutting it into filets.  Now, I love halibut, but I never buy it because it is prohibitively expensive.  $24 a pound is just ridiculous - who eats this stuff, anyway?  Luckily, Whole Foods was running a special on halibut ($16/pound) to welcome the season, so I went ahead and splurged - I bought myself a whole pound, enough for three good-sized filets.

With my first filet, I made a quick dinner that I saw in April's Cooking Light.  As I cannot have breaded fish, I had been on the lookout for an encrusted fish recipe that did not contain any gluten or sugar.  This recipe, which originally called for hazelnuts, fit the bill.  However, I used pistachios instead, as it was what I had on hand, and I am not wild about hazelnuts in the first place.  But y'all.....this fish was so tasty.  Halibut is slightly sweet, so the salty, nutty crust is a nice addition.  However, this fish was such high quality, so delicious, it melted in your mouth and flaked into pieces with the mere touch of a fork.  For my next filet, I am just going to poach it in some white wine or broth with a bit of lemon - it really doesn't need much.  My fishmonger friend was right - it was really an incredible piece of fish.      

So today you have two morals to my story.  Moral #1: Always be nice to grocery store employees, especially the butchers and the fish mongers.  They can sell you a great piece of meat or fish.  Moral #2: Money may not grow on trees, but apparently it sprouts out from concrete.  And Travis, I guess I owe you a beer after our race on Sunday...it's the least I can do.

Pistachio-encrusted halibut with roasted asparagus
Adapted from Cooking Light (April 2012)
Serves 1

for the fish
1 teaspoon butter
1 teaspoon extra-virgin olive oil
1 six-ounce halibut filet, skinned
2 tablespoons finely chopped pistachios
salt & pepper, to taste

for the asparagus
1 garlic  
1 handful of asparagus spears, maybe 6 
Cooking spray (olive oil preferred, I use a misto) 
1 teaspoon chopped fresh thyme 
2 thin slices lemon


1.  Preheat oven to 400.
2.  Brush tops of filets with olive oil and sprinkle both sides evenly with pinches of salt and freshly cracked pepper.  Press the top of the filet onto a plate of chopped pistachios, pressing gently to adhere.
3.  Heat butter in nonstick skillet over medium-high heat.  Place fish, nuts side down, in the skillet. (Alternatively, you could use olive oil or cooking spray, but I like the added richness from the butter.  It's not that much, anyway.)  Cook three minutes, or until browned.  Turn fish over gently and cook four minutes, or until desired doneness.
4.  Meanwhile, spray asparagus with cooking spray and toss with garlic, salt, pepper, and thyme.  Lay two thin slices of lemon atop the asparagus.  Roast on 400 for 8 minutes or until crisp-tender.

beet & beet green chopped salad

You must think I am on some kind of "you will eat your beets and you will like them" war path.  I just browsed through my labels and I noticed there is a pretty high ratio of beet recipes to everything else.  Almost as high as butternut squash or brussels sprouts.  The thing is, I kinda love the beet.  I mean, it's a hot pink vegetable, so that should come as no surprise.

To see my original love story to the beet, read this entry from last year.  If you're new to beets, just try roasting them and topping with a bit of olive oil, salt, and pepper or eating them on a simple salad of watercress or arugula and goat cheese.  A few months ago, I volunteered at a dinner fundraiser in which the uber-talented Barton Seaver cooked up six delicious courses for the benefit of two laudable DC charities, DC Central Kitchen and Martha's Table.  One course was a deconstructed roasted vegetable salad, with a beet perched atop a goat cheese puree, which was emulsified with olive oil, and ostensibly, crack cocaine.  Seriously, I could barely prevent myself from spooning the puree into my mouth directly from the container.  He gave me the leftover beets and goat cheese, and I ate them together for a solid week.  It has now become my favorite combination.

But since I've OD'ed on cheese, I decided to eat my beets in a vegan salad.  But really though, before you womp-womp me, this is a great salad.  Doesn't it look like something you would get at Sweetgreen?  It serves up to six as a side, or three as a lunch salad or even a light dinner.  In fact, I ate it last night for dinner and was really surprised at how satisfying and filling it was.  And it is absolutely gorgeous - the pictures don't do it justice.  It looks like someone splattered pink paint across a lush spring meadow.  If I ever open up a sandwich and salad joint, this is definitely going on the menu.  I'd call it "The Beetnik".

I adapted the original recipe as follows -

• I added spinach to mellow the flavor of straight beet greens.  Beet greens are not for everyone....they are a little bitter and need a sweeter, more delicate green to balance out the flavor.  They are also slightly coarse, so it helps to toss the greens in a little bit of the dressing before mixing the salad.  The extra time "marinating"  allows the greens to soften.
• I added golden beets to the mix for the slight flavor contrast and to add more pretty color.  I am still fighting my addiction to orange things.
• I used pistachios instead of sunflower seeds because it was what I had.  I liked it a lot.
• I omitted the agave from the dressing.  Honestly, it could have used a bit of sweetness, so don't omit it if you aren't insane like me.  Sacrifices.

Finally, an important PSA!  I've planned out the posts for tomorrow and Thursday already (duh), but I am accepting suggestions for my last 4-5 recipes!  Bollie already requested some sort of steak that can be cooked in a grill pan or in the oven, so that's on my radar.  If any of you have any other ideas, please e-mail me!  (I've long since stopped begging for comments since Blogger won't let anyone do so without blowing up their computer or sacrificing their first born.)  Otherwise you will continue to get weird stuff that I like to eat, like beets.

Beet & Beet Green Chopped Salad
Adapted from The Sprouted Kitchen
Serves 3-6

for the salad
1 bunch of red beets, including fresh looking greens
1 bunch of golden beets
2 handfuls baby spinach
2 scallions, white and light green parts
1 1/2 cups cooked and cooled quinoa
1 small avocado, diced
1/3 cup pistachios

for the tahini dressing
1/4 cup tahini
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1/4 cup water, more as needed
1 teaspoon minced garlic
1-2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon finely chopped chives

1.  Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.  Cut the greens from the beets at their stem and individually wrap the beets in aluminum foil.  Place on a baking sheet in the middle oven rack and cook for 45 minutes to an hour.  Set them aside to cool.
2.  While the beets roast, rinse and dry the beet greens. Discard the long red stems and any parts of the leaf that look bad.  Chop the greens and put them in a large mixing bowl with rinsed and chopped baby spinach.
3.  To prepare the dressing, whisk together the tahini, lemon juice, vinegar, and water. Mix in the garlic, hearty pinch of salt and pepper and drizzle in the olive oil while whisking. Add more water if you prefer it thinner. Mix in the chives. Adjust to your taste and set aside.  (The dressing will keep in an airtight container in the fridge for a couple weeks.)
4.  Coat the greens in a little bit of the dressing and let sit for 10 minutes.
5.  Once the beets are cool enough to touch, you should be able to just push the skin off with your fingers. Dice the peeled beets. Thinly slice the scallions. Add the beets, scallions, quinoa and avocado to the mixing bowl with the dressed greens and add more dressing.  (note: the salad will turn pink from the beets. If this bothers you, you can toss everything without the diced beets, and sprinkle them on top). Sprinkle in the pistachios and give it one more toss.

weekend eats...

I ate almost exclusively Latin and Asian foods this weekend.  Not sorry.

Friday was beautiful, so I lunched on fish tacos on the rooftop at Surfside and dined al fresco on the patio at Masa 14, a Latin-Asian "fusion" restaurant. (Side note:  When is that trend going to be over? I hope never.)  Since I generally don't eat meat on Fridays of Lent, plus the added gluten-free/sugar-free layer, I was probably the world's most obnoxious diner.  Our waiter was very knowledgable about allergens and ingredients in each menu option, so he steered me through my limited options.  In the end, I decided to make a meat exception so I wouldn't have to just eat seaweed all night.  Whatever.  My favorite plates were a black cod with chipotle and pickled onions and a wok-seared cauliflower with garlic, ginger, and Thai chilis.

Rain clouds rolled through on Saturday, so I had a 2pm "breakfast" of a piping hot pho from Pho 75.  I just love vermicelli - thank goodness for rice noodles.  I did give my bowl a healthy Sriracha bath and then realized Sriracha contains sugar.  Strike one, but it was an honest mistake (I had the foresight to omit the plum sauce).  Then I went to see The Hunger Games with Patti and Walker.  Thanks for letting me tag along, guys.  You were good sports to not move seats whenever I laughed out loud at the parts when most other people were in tears.  And thanks for not getting (too) annoyed when I started hyperventilating whenever Liam Hemsworth was on screen.

A few pictures from around these parts...

Saturday dinner was this roasted acorn squash, and the exception to my Asian/Latin binge.  I'm proud to annouce that my winter squash stockpile has been reduced to only one remaining butternut squash.  Unfortunately, I only had time to eat a couple wedges on my way out the door to a friend's surprise party, which is why I found myself at Taylor Gourmet at 1:30 in the morning.  (Yes, a hoagie shop.  Needless to say, there wasn't much there I could eat.)

Sunday brunch I made myself a real Ecuadorian breakfast by steaming and then pan-frying a corn tamale, and topping with roasted cherry tomatoes, a fried egg, and a few shakes of Tapatio.  I made sure to check the ingredients this time - no sugar or sugar products in Tapatio.  Thank goodness, because eating a humita without hot sauce is sacrilige.

And I continued my Latin food binge for Sunday dinner with pork carnitas with mango salsa and avocado at Patti's house for a Mad Men viewing.  (Because what goes together better than Don Draper and carnitas?)  I made the salsa (mango + red onions + cherry tomatoes + jalepeno + sweet corn + lime juice + red wine vinegar), but I didn't ask Patti what was in the carnitas.  I know that they were at least gluten-free since Amanda was eating as well, but I didn't want to know about the sugar content.  Ignorance is bliss.  I've found out way too many of my favorite flavor-boosters have sugar - not just Sriracha and adobo sauce, but also Worcestershire - which is right up there with balsamic vinegar and mayonnaise as the world's best condiment.  My world crumbled a little bit. 

Needless to say, I am only eating vegetables and quinoa the rest of the week.  Have a great one!

friday breakast: egg "muffins"

My friend Caroline sent me this recipe for personalized fritattas cooked in a muffin tin, and I decided to make them for a St. Patrick's Day brunch when she would be one of my guests.  I know the picture is kinda lame, but how cute are these things?  They come out of the oven looking exactly like a muffin, which is a great mind trick for someone craving a doughy, sugary, buttery muffin.  This recipe is very customizable, as well.  The original called for a broccoli and sausage filling, but since I love goat cheese, spinach, and mushrooms, I decided to make both.  This recipe was very fast and easy, and they look super impressive.

I like my eggs super runny and yolky, but if I make them well done - scrambled, in an omelet, or a fritatta - I like a lot of herbs and spices.  My favorite flavor-boosters for eggs are thyme, basil, chives, or crushed red pepper.  Personally, I thought these were a little on the bland side, so next time I make them, I will give them a healthy dose of flavor this way.  Overall, though, everyone else enjoyed them, so it is certainly a matter of personal preference.  We thought they were great served fresh out of the oven.  But, I will be the first to admit - they were totally disgusting served the next day.  One of the reviewers said that she put them in the freezer and then thawed them out in the morning as a breakfast to-go.  Well, she must have low standards.  The texture was off (it was awkwardly chewy), the saltiness was intensified, and they were almost a little liquidy.  So don't make extras - plan accordingly!


Egg "muffins"
Adapted from Snacking in the kitchen
Makes 12 muffins 


For the egg mixture:
8-10 eggs
1/4 cup milk or water
1/2 tablespoon vegetable oil
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
salt and pepper, to taste

For the filling (each variation makes six muffins):

variation one:
2 sausage links (about 6-8 ounces)
1 cup broccoli florets
grated parmesan cheese

variation two:
2 cups spinach
handful mushrooms, chopped
crumbled goat cheese

1.  Preheat oven to 375.
2.  In a microwave, steam the broccoli by placing a damp paper towel over a bowl of broccoli florets (just the floret, NO stem) and zapping for a minute or two.  Repeat same process with the spinach.
3.  If your sausage is uncooked, saute sausage in a saute pan.  If it is precooked and frozen, like mine, zap it in the microwave until finished.  Remove from the casing.
4.  Whisk eggs, milk/water, oil, and baking powder together, and season with salt and pepper.  (I'd suggest underseasoning slightly if you are adding a salty cheese, like parmesan.)  Start with just eight eggs, but halfway through your assembly, you may need to add more (mine were kind of small, so I did need to whisk in a couple more about halfway through.)
5.  Grease a muffin pan well with cooking spray and evenly distribute the sausage and broccoli mixture and/or the spinach mushroom mixture in each cup.  Sprinkle each with desired cheese.  Pour eggs over mixture into each muffin mold. 
6.  Bake in oven about 15-20 minutes, or until egg is set.

bok choy stirfry

This is the kind of meal you make when you're on autopilot.  It's the kind of thing that comes together with minimal work and maximum ease, in a situation where reading directions and following a recipe would be asking far too much.  After an overzealous Saturday, I woke up Sunday and faced a daunting list of to-dos, but only half the capacity to complete them.   I had to venture down to Eastern Market (which is inconvenient in the first place, much less under the circumstances) to get a necklace restrung.  My jewelry man told me he could fix it in 15 minutes.  Awesome.  I'd be back home on my sofa in no time.  To kill time, I ducked into a coffee shop and ordered a cup of iced coffee.  I paid for it, and then walked out of the coffee shop – sans coffee.  I didn’t realize it until I was milling through the stalls.  Seriously, I don’t know who does this.

After I went back to reclaim my coffee (you should have seen the look from the barista), I came across a stall with beautiful, hand-embroidered girls’ dresses.  The thin, gauze-like fabric and bright, intricate embroidery was oddly familiar, but unplaceable.  Then, I looked at the woman sitting in the corner.  Back to the dresses.  To the woman.  Ah hah! - she was definitely Ecuadorian.  The dresses looked familiar because I had a steady rotation of dresses exactly like them every summer until I was in middle school, at least. 

Overestimating my ability to hold a casual conversation in Spanish while operating at 50%, (well, let's be real, the caffeine hadn't kicked in yet, so 30%) I started chatting with her.  Her skin turned from a rusty copper to a pale white.  Normal reaction from whenever I speak Spanish to an unsuspecting stranger.  I complimented her handiwork and made small talk for a bit, the autopilot guiding me through a conversation I've had a hundred times before.  (Where did you learn to speak Spanish like that?  What is your connection to Ecuador? etc.)  Within a couple minutes, my autopilot failed and I was forced to awkwardly duck out politely excuse myself.  I went to pick up some produce before I reclaimed my necklace and went home.  Then I realized I didn’t have cash, so I went back to wandering aimlessly until my necklace was finished.  I would just have to stop at the grocery store on the way home.

Later, I walked in the door and Whitney told me I looked confused.  I told her that I thought I blacked out in Safeway because I wasn't sure exactly what I bought.

“You probably just got a shit ton of vegetables.”

Oh, she knows me far too well.  Sometimes I fall prey to the beautiful colors of fresh vegetables at the market or grocery store (again, I don't know who does this) and come home with a plethora of produce, but nothing quite goes together, and I have absolutely no plan to execute.  I unloaded the contents of my bag and took a look. Bok choy.  Mushrooms.  Frozen edamame.  Some other random things.  So I decided on stirfry.  I wish I could say that I picked up these ingredients with this end goal in mind....but I didn't.  That's the beauty of stirfry - it works when you have no idea what else to do.  This happens to me more often than I would like.

Luckily, stirfry is impossible to mess up, and not only did this recipe not suck, it was actually really good.  But then again, I think anything with massive quantities of ginger and garlic is failsafe.  So next time you're on autopilot, just throw a bunch of stuff in a skillet and let it wok and roll. 

Bok in the wok
A caramelized memoir original
Serves 2 

2 baby bok choy, sliced in half, vertically
6 ounces mushrooms, chopped
3/4 cup frozen edamame
2 tablespoons sesame oil
1-2 tablespoons minced freshly minced ginger (to taste.  I like a lot, so I use closer to 2 tablespoons.)
1-2 tablespoons garlic (to taste.  I like a lot, so I use closer to 2 tablespoons.)
1 tablespoon sesame seeds
crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
2 cups cooked rice


1.  Cook rice according to package directions.  You will want enough rice for two people.  I made about two cups cooked.
2.  Heat sesame oil in wok over medium heat.  Add minced ginger and garlic and stir frequently for about 2 minutes, or until fragrant.  Do not let burn.
3.  Add bok choy and fry for about 5 minutes.  After 5 minutes, add frozen edamame and mushrooms.  Stirfry another 5 minutes.  
4.  Turn off heat and stir in sesame seeds.  Serve vegetables over rice and season with crushed red pepper flakes, if desired. (I also drizzled with a little bit of gluten-free soy sauce, as well.)



eggplant & lentil stew with pomegranate

The instructor at my crunchy hot yoga studio (not to be confused with the hot yoga studio that feels like a Lululemon advertisement or the torture chamber Bikram yoga studio) said something very interesting the other day.  We were in a difficult pose, and she asked us to try to smile.  With all my weight in my non-dominant leg, the rest of my body contorted all pretzel-like, and my eyes blinking to deflect the salty sweat dripping from my brow, smiling was not on my to-do list.  In fact, it almost seemed unnatural to signal pleasure when I was really in pain.  But, because I am a good student and I try to follow directions, I obliged.  Once I turned my lips up, I sunk deeper into the posture and it almost became easier.  Everyone else must have seen similar results, because the instructor said, "See?  Go through life smiling, and life will smile back." 

But you know, yogis are happy people, all Zen-like and peaceful, so this incident, in and of itself, isn't all that earth-shattering.  But a few days later, I found myself struck with the same message....at church, of all places.  The message of the homily was something along the lines of "Catholics just love suffering.  And we're really good at it.  In fact, we think we're doing something wrong if we're not suffering.  But why do we suffer?  What does it prove?  I challenge you to be bad at suffering."

Interesting, right?  The yogis and the Jesuits are on the same page about something.  Who would have thought?

Honestly, that doesn't have anything to do with this soup, but I've been thinking about that message a lot this week, so I thought I'd share it with you all.  The past few days, I've encountered a slew of first-world problems - all petty things, but things that frustrate me nonetheless.  A parking ticket, stemming from my own inability to properly key a meter code into the pay-by-phone app.  Missing the train and having to wait eight minutes for the next because it's tourist season and they block the Metro escalators.  The water pressure completely failing during my shower, leaving me shivering under a slow stream of water.  Every CVS in town being out of Allegra-D.  In every circumstance, instead of a letting out a long string of profanity, I've tried to remember the whole "smile through your day" thing, and it might actually be starting to work.  Or maybe I've just given myself extra time on my commute, double-checked my typing on my iPhone, remembered not to shower while running the dishwasher, and finally gotten my hands on allergy medicine.

So, if you need something to make you smile, make this stew.  It is a delicious, satisfying soup that will make your insides happy!  Tomatoes and eggplant contain staggering amounts of lycopene, which aid in fighting depression.  And lentils (my favorite legume, obviously) are so, so incredibly good for you.  Seriously.  I can't even begin to tell you.  Just google it.  This stew is a great meatless dish for anyone who observes meatless Fridays of Lent (or, for your next "Meatless Monday").  I am not even sure I'd call it a "stew" - it is light and it can be eaten warm or cold.  So make it. 

A couple quick notes - I think this is a summertime dish because the recipe calls for fresh tomatoes, but I used a large can of diced tomatoes instead.  It also calls for pomegranate molasses, a common ingredient in Mediterranean, Turkish, and Middle Eastern cuisine.  Obviously, the main ingredients in pomegranate molasses are pomegranates and sugar - off-limits for this girl.  Instead, I just used a cup of 100% pure pomegranate juice, with no sugar added.  It still gives the soup a tart, sweet flavor that goes well with the acidity of the vegetables and the earthiness of the lentils.  I ate this for lunch for a straight week - it's that good.  (People often ask me what I have been eating for lunch - it's either a soup, dinner leftovers, or salad these days.)

Eggplant and lentil stew with pomegranate
Adapted from Food & Wine
Serves 4

1 medium eggplant (about 1 1/2 pounds)
Salt
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1/2 cup dry lentils
1 medium onion, finely chopped
1 28-ounce can diced tomatoes
2 Anaheim chiles, stemmed, seeded, and coarsely chopped
2 tablespoons minced garlic
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
2 tablespoons chopped mint leaves
1 cup water
1 cup pomegranate juice (look for 100% pomegranate, no sugar added)
fresh parsley, to garnish

1. Peel the eggplant and slice lengthwise into thirds, then crosswise in one inch segments.  Sprinkle with salt and let sit 20 minutes.  
2. Meanwhile, in a small saucepan, cover the lentils with 2 inches of water and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to moderate and simmer until tender, about 20 minutes. Drain the lentils.
3. In a bowl, toss the onion with the garlic, diced tomatoes and juices, green chiles, mint, tomato paste, crushed red pepper and 2 teaspoons of salt.
4. Rinse eggplant and pat dry.  Coat the bottom of a ceramic dutch oven or stew pot with 1 tablespoon of the olive oil.  Spread your ingredients in the dish in layers:  vegetable mixture-eggplant-lentils-vegetable mixture-eggplant-lentils.  Pour the water, pomegranate juice, and remaining olive oil around the side and over the vegetables.
5. Bring the stew to a boil. Reduce heat, cover, and cook at a low simmer until the eggplant is very tender, about 1 1/2 hours. Serve hot, warm or at room temperature.



how to roast a chicken

When I was first learning how to cook, the only things I really wanted to know were the fool-proof way to boil rice (answer: follow the directions), the best way to cook zucchini (answer: in a vegetable basket on the grill), and how to roast an oven stuffer (answer: however my mom does it).  There is something very comforting about roasting a chicken.  I don't know what it is.  Maybe it is the aroma that fills my apartment, maybe it's the fact that I will have enough leftovers for a week, or maybe it just reminds me of home.  But my mom's roasted chicken is so good, and I didn't think I could improve upon it until I began testing the other roast chicken methods out there.

In five years, I've roasted more chickens than I can count.  A few dozen, at least - far surpassing what could be considered normal for someone who is not feeding a family of four.  Depending on what sort of liberties I take with the process, it turns out slightly differently each time, but it's always good.  The most famous ways of roasting chicken have cult followings, each touted as the "best roasted chicken on Earth".  After a bit of experimenting, I've nailed down my preferred way of roasting chicken.  It's a hybridized version of Thomas Keller's method and the Zuni Cafe recipe.  My friends tease me and call this recipe "date-night chicken"* because yes, I've made this chicken for every guy I've ever dated.  I know.  I get the irony.  I am trying to get you to believe in the magic of this chicken, and my singledom isn't exactly a ringing endorsement.  Minor details, people.

The secret to this chicken is to buy a high-quality, small-to-medium sized bird (resist the temptation of an oven-stuffer) and make sure it is entirely dry before you place it in a scorching hot oven.  Roast it for a while on high heat, flip it over, and turn the heat down a bit.  The initial high heat creates a golden-brown skin, perfectly crisp and a stark contrast to the juicy, tender meat.  Flipping the bird over halfway through cooking ensures that the breast meat doesn't dry out - in fact, the juices from the leg will drip down onto the breast and keep it moist.  (Sorry, I hate that word, but there's really no other way to explain it.)  And let me reiterate that it is important for the chicken to be completely dry when placed in the oven.  Any moisture will cause the bird to steam, and that is exactly what we do not want.  You'll end up with a soggy bird, and worse, a kitchen full of smoke and a date furiously waving a dishrag under the blaring smoke alarm.  Um, not that I would know or anything.

After you roast your chicken, let it rest, and carve it up.  Now, I have no idea how to effectively butcher a bird, nor do I pretend to.  So I tell my date it's not my strong suit, and I ask him to do it for me.  It's truly a rare moment for me - confessing my ineptitude like this.  But the payoff for a bit of vulnerability is huge - the way a guy carves a bird can tell you a lot about him.  Does he handle with care, efficiency, and meticulousness, or does he leave the poor bird recklessly manhandled and massacred?  (Yes, I judge my men based on, among other things, their knife skills.  Anybody know any single surgeons?)  If you are lucky enough to have an efficient butcher, this recipe easily serves two with lots of leftovers, or four with some leftovers still.    And if you're blessed with lots of leftovers, the possibilities for the remains are endless - chicken salad, chicken soup, chicken sandwiches, chicken tacos.  Oh, and because I let nothing go to waste, sometimes I even use the bones and carcass for stock when all the meat is gone.

Before you read the directions in their entirety, I must acknowledge that this recipe is slightly dramatic.  (Me?  Dramatic?  Never.)   And if you usually just read this blog not for the recipes, but to laugh at how awkward I am, you might actually enjoy reading this one.  I do acknowledge that I've editorialized it quite a bit, but The Zuni Cafe cookbook devotes four pages to it, so I've actually pared it back substantially.  And I'm telling you - this chicken is amazing, and anybody with functioning taste buds will say the same.  It is slightly fussy for a roasted chicken, so don't waste it on somebody who would be just as happy eating DiGiorno's every night.  But that kind of guy is probably not good with a knife, nor would he (hypothetically) flail his arms like a fool under your smoke detector, so you probably wouldn't want to date him anyway.  At least, I wouldn't.

Perfect Roasted Chicken
Adapted mostly from The Zuni Cafe Cookbook and a little bit from Thomas Keller
Serves 2 to 4, with leftovers

One small chicken, no more than four pounds
Several sprigs of fresh rosemary, thyme, and sage
1 tablespoon salt
freshly cracked black pepper
kitchen twine (optional)


1.  Season the chicken:  The recipe says 1-3 days before serving is "ideal", with bigger birds taking longer, but I usually don't have a problem doing it the day of.  You want to do it at least 4-6 hours in advance so the chicken has a chance to dry out with the dry salt brine

Remove and discard the package of gizzards/liver inside the cavity of the chicken. Rinse the chicken and pat dry inside and out. Be very thorough — a wet chicken will spend too much time steaming before it begins to turn golden brown.  Approaching from the edge of the cavity, slide your finger under the skin of each breast and loosen a little.  Do the same on the outside of the thickest section of each thigh, or the area where the thigh meets the body (is this the hip?)  Shove a couple herb sprigs into each of the pockets you've made.  You want 4-6 total pockets.  Season the chicken very liberally with salt and pepper.  Like, I want you to make it rain salt.  Massage the salt into the skin very well, especially in the thicker sections like the breast and thighs.  (Insert obligatory "that's what she said".)  You probably will think you're using too much.  That is good.  You don't end up tasting the salt, it is just what ends up giving the skin that crispy texture.  Salt a little on the inside of the chicken and stuff some more sprigs of herbs in there.  Cover loosely and refrigerate.

2.  Prepare your oven and pan (not optional), and truss your chicken (optional):  Remove the chicken from the refrigerator and preheat the oven to 475.  (That is not a typo. 475.  My mom almost had a heart attack when I told her that I roast my chicken this high.)  Using a shallow flameproof roasting pan or 12-inch cast iron skillet (that's what I use), preheat the pan in the oven.

At this point, you can truss the chicken if you want; this is the Thomas Keller influence.  Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't.  It usually depends on whether I have any kitchen twine and how badly I want to impress whoever I am dining with.  (If any of my ex-boyfriends are reading this, which I kind of doubt, they are probably trying to remember whether or not they had to untie the bird before cutting it up.)  In any case, trussing is not that difficult once you get the hang of it, and if you roast chicken often, it's a good technique to have in your repertoire. When you truss a bird, the wings and legs stay close to the body and the ends of the drumsticks cover the top of the breast and keep it from drying out. Trussing helps the chicken to cook evenly and also gives it a nice overall color, almost the color of caramel.  To truss, start by cutting a 3-foot section of cotton kitchen string. Place the chicken so that it is breast side up, with its legs pointing toward you. Tuck the wing tips under the chicken. Wrap the string under the neck end of the bird, pulling the string ends up over the breast, toward you, plumping up the breast.  (Yeah, if you're a girl, this is exactly analogous to what you're thinking.)  Then cross the string under the breast, above the cavity and between the legs.  Wrap each end around the closest leg end, and tie tightly so that the legs come together.  There are several YouTubes out there on trussing.  Check 'em out.

When the oven is ready, remove the pan (with a hot pad!) and place the chicken breast side up in the pan.  You should hear the chicken sizzle. 

3.  Roast the chicken:  Place the chicken in the pan in the center of the oven and listen and watch for it to start browning within 20 minutes.  The skin should blister, but it should not char or smoke.  If it does, reduce temperature to 450.  After about 30 minutes, turn the bird over.  This is the real test to see if you thoroughly dried your bird.  A dry bird and preheated pan should keep the skin from sticking. Turn the temperature down to 425.  Roast for another 15 to 20 minutes, depending on size, then flip back over to get the breast skin all nice and crispy, another 5 to 10 minutes.  Your chicken is finished when the meat thermometer says so, or when the juices from the leg run clear and the wing tips are kinda burnt. 

4.  Rest the chicken:  Let the chicken rest at least 10 minutes before cutting and serving.

*Not to be confused with Glamour magazine's "Engagement Chicken".  My version is way better.

butternut squash risotto with mushrooms



What do you make for dinner when you are not eating gluten or sugar, and your dining companion is a vegetarian allergic to pretty much everything under the sun?

I faced this dilemma when my friend Rae came over for dinner last week.  Rae and I lived together for a stint in college, but I typically avoid cooking for her because her allergies give me a panic attack.  (Right up there with my claustrophobia is an irrational fear of accidentally giving someone anaphylaxis.)  Rae is allergic or intolerant to a laundry list of items, including, but not limited to: avocados, mangoes, peanuts, pine nuts, (she has recently outgrown her allergy to walnuts and almonds), barley, hops, and tequila (though I think she's making that one up).  On top of those aversions, she eats no land animals, and very little fish.  A much more compassionate human being than I, Rae became a vegetarian as a precocious preschooler.  She has stuck with it ever since, unlike most children who are just picky and quit their ways when their parents tell them that they have to actually eat vegetables if they want to be considered a "vegetarian".  That may have been what happened to Bollie at age 5.  My mom wasn't going to let her live on peanut butter and cheetos sandwiches forever. 

Though I am, for the most part, a neurotic control freak rational, methodical person, on the rarest of occasions I sometimes forgo logical thought processes.  Like last Thursday.  I chose risotto for our romantic dinner on an 80 degree day.  (Despite its starchy, creamy texture, risotto is actually gluten-free!)  And instead of making it with something "springy", like asparagus, I chose to make it with butternut squash.  Did I mention it was 80 degrees outside?  In my defense, it was March 15, which to me means there remain only two weeks in the Socially Acceptable Period For The Consumption of Winter Squashes.  And since I stockpile gourds like the world is going to end and I am going to be forced into a post-apocalyptic Iron Chef: Winter Squash challenge to determine who gets the last spot on the escape shuttle to outer space (because surely, knowing how to cook butternut squash will come in handy on Planet X), I decided to hone my skillz with a butternut squash risotto.  Plus, Patti made a similar dish for Friendsgiving 2011, and it was a roaring success. 

So, there I was, stirring my butternut squash risotto and straining myself to hear the NCAA tournament playing on the TV in the next room.  There's another rational thought - make the most labor-intensive, finicky dish in the history of Italian pasta when you really just want to be watching March Madness instead.  If you've never made risotto, know that it is time-consuming, tedious, and, above all, an exercise in patience.  It is kind of like a small child.  It requires devotion and constant attention, and you have to be careful how much liquid you give it.  It must be babysat, and you have to stir it gently and frequently.  But when it is done right, it's delicious, so it's worth it. 

Also, it needs to be served immediately.  It is not good if it sits out, and it's not particularly good as leftovers.  I got a late start on the risotto because I know Rae's internal clock is 20 minutes behind the rest of the world's, so it actually worked out perfectly.  I was spooning the risotto into a bowl right when she walked in my front door.  We added some mushrooms to the risotto for good measure, and we really liked the earthiness it added.  We paired our dish with a green salad (with basil! Genius thinking, Rae) and it was a delicious supper.

Butternut Squash Risotto with Mushrooms
Adapted from Williams-Sonoma
Serves 4 as main course

3 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided

2 tablespoons olive oil, divided

1 onion, minced (yellow or white)

1 tablespoon minced garlic

1 1/2 cups arborio rice

4 cups vegetable stock (or chicken stock, if not making vegetarian)

1 1/2 - 2 cups butternut squash puree (one small squash)

1/2 cup dry white wine

2 tablespoons minced fresh sage

1 tablespoon minced fresh rosemary

6 ounces mushrooms, finely chopped

1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese

Salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste

1.  Preheat oven to 450 degrees.  Roast butternut squash (halved vertically, face up in a roasting pan) in oven until soft, about an hour.  Let cool completely and scoop out the flesh.  Puree.  This can be done in advance.   

2.  In a large pot over medium heat, whisk together the stock and 1 1/2 to 2 cups squash puree. Bring just to a simmer, 8 to 10 minutes; maintain over low heat.
3.  In a large saucepan over medium-high heat, melt one tablespoon of butter and one tablespoon olive oil.  Saute onion and garlic, stirring frequently, until caramelized, about 7 minutes.

4.  Add risotto and another scant tablespoon of olive oil (if necessary) to pan and stir, until grains are coated with oil and are transparent with a white dot in the center, about 3 minutes.

5.  Stir in sage and rosemary.  Add the white wine until it is absorbed.

6.  Add the simmering stock mixture a ladleful at a time, stirring after each addition. Wait until the stock is almost completely absorbed before adding more.

7.  When the rice is almost al dente, after about 25 minutes, add the mushrooms and continue to cook as you have been - adding liquid, stirring until absorbed, and repeating. 

8. When the rice is tender to the bite but slightly firm in the center and looks creamy, after about 10-15 minutes more, stir in the remaining two tablespoons of butter, the cheese, salt, and pepper.  Add more stock if needed so the rice is thick and creamy (I added a couple more ladlefuls).  Serve immediately.

friday breakfast: cup o' green & a pot o' gold

Happy (early) St. Patrick's Day!  Even though technically my dad's family is of Scottish descent, everyone is Irish this weekend, right?  Plus - as a Scot, I've heard you're supposed to wear orange on St. Patrick's Day, but I am avoiding orange, remember?  (In all actuality, you probably don't remember, as yesterday's post got a whopping 31 hits, total.  As opposed to my peanut-butter banana ice cream post, which got 78 hits in the first two hours.  I wonder which one y'all liked more.)

In celebration of the fine day, I bring you.....not corned beef or Irish soda bread.  Not Guinness or Bailey's cupcakes....though you could have this breakfast with an Irish coffee, if you'd like.  No, I bring you a delicious, healthy green breakfast smoothie to start your day, before you go and wreck your liver and clog your arteries in honor of St. Pat!  And, there's a pot of gold along with it!  Light, fluffy scrambled eggs. 

Before you have a seizure because I am suggesting you start your day off with green slime, hear me out.  This is a "normal" fruit smoothie with just a couple of handfuls of spinach added in for good measure.  I promise you can't even taste it - even my coworker has gotten her one-year-old hooked on these smoothies.  They taste great while providing a bevy of benefits from the added vegetable boost.  Excuse me for a second or ten as I extoll the virtues of my favorite leafy green.  Spinach boasts ridiculous levels of Vitamin K (one cup provides 1110% of your daily needs!), Vitamin A (300%), manganese, iron, folate, calcium, and even Vitamin C (goodbye, orange things!)

I add whatever frozen fruit I have on hand.  I prefer using yellow fruits because the smoothie retains that nice, bright green color.  Using red and blue fruits, like berries, is fine, but it looks a little gross if it starts to separate.  This may be okay if it doesn't bother you, or if you're drinking it out of an opague travel mug, but otherwise, expect to get weird looks.  I add Greek yogurt to the smoothie to make it a substantial, protein-filled breakfast-on-the-run, or I leave it out if it is accompanying another breakfast item (like these scrambled eggs).

I won't insult your intelligence with a recipe for scrambled eggs.  I have a lot more faith in you than that.  But if you don't know how to scramble an egg, email me and we can chat.

May the luck of the Irish be with you today and every day!  And may the luck of the Irish be with my Hoos today in the tournament!

Green breakfast smoothie
Serves one or two

1/2 frozen banana
1/2 - 3/4 cup frozen yellow fruit (e.g. pineapple, mango, peaches)
2 handfuls baby spinach
6 ounces Greek yogurt (optional)
1 cup almond milk or water (bump up to 1 1/2 cups if using yogurt)
6 ice cubes

1.  Combine all ingredients in a blender. If you're OCD and you need a specific order, load spinach first, then fruit, liquid/yogurt, and ice - the heavier ingredients will weigh down the spinach and keep it from sticking to the sides.  Blend, changing proportions until reaching your desired consistency, until smooth.

carrots & parsnips with cumin vinagrette

Remember when I said I was going to give up orange things?

Oops.

I tried.  Honestly.  I really did.  The prospect of having beta carotene stain my skin a permanent shade of clementine was enough to scare me into eating only green and red and yellow and purple things for a whole two weeks.  And then I relapsed.  Yes, I've had nary a morsel of chocolate.  Haven't had a cookie, either.  And not a single slice of crusty, chewy bread.  But orange things. I just can't quit the orange things.

But if you're gonna be bad, it better be worth it.  And these roasted carrots and parsnips are the closest thing to perfection in a vegetable side-dish that I've had in some time.  (Besides brussels sprouts. Those babies are untouchable.)  Whitney and I enjoyed these a few nights ago with her favorite wild rice blend and a whole roast chicken.  Yes, that's correct.  I shamelessly made Whitney my date night chicken in a last-ditch attempt to get her to leave Brian for me.  It almost worked.

This recipe originally called for beets instead of parsnips, and I took a couple of liberties with the vinaigrette as well.  The original calls for a sherry vinegar, but I didn't have any, so I just used red wine vinegar.  It also calls for whole cumin seeds, toasted and then pulverized. I usually have whole cumin seeds, but I couldn't locate them.  (Who borrowed my cumin seeds and never brought them back? Return them and I'll accept them gleefully, no questions asked.)   I do think that the whole cumin seeds would add a deeper flavor to the vinaigrette, if you use them.   But if you don't have them, mine was great even with just ground cumin.

So now that all the carrots are gone, I resolve to start over.  Tomorrow.  Rae and I are making butternut squash risotto tonight for dinner. (If we succeed, more on that next week.)


Roasted Carrot & Parsnip Salad with Feta
Adapted from Hugh Acheson's A New Turn in The South
Serves 4-6

For the salad:

1 teaspoon salt
1 pound carrots, peeled
1 pound parsnips, peeled
1/3 cup feta cheese, crumbled
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves

For the vinaigrette:

1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
½ cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
2 teaspoons red wine vinegar
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh mint
Salt and freshly ground black pepper


1. Preheat the oven to 450°F.
2. Peel the carrots and parsnips. Make sure your carrots and parsnips are about the same size. I left my carrots whole and sliced my parsnips vertically.
3. Bring a large pot of water to a vigorous boil, add ½ teaspoon of the salt, then add the carrots and parsnips. Blanch for 1 minute and remove to a bowl of ice water to stop the cooking. Once cool, remove and set aside.
4. Toss the carrots and parsnips with olive oil and place on a rimmed baking sheet. Roast until golden brown, about 20 minutes.
5. Meanwhile, make the vinaigrette. Place the Dijon mustard in a bowl and whisk in the olive oil, then the lemon juice and the red wine vinegar. Add the cumin and the mint. Season with salt and pepper to taste. The vinaigrette will last for 10 days in the fridge.
6. Remove carrots and parsnips to serving dish and drizzle in vinaigrette. Toss. Top with feta and chopped parsley.

p.s.  Happy Birthday to my first roommate, Sophie!  I wish I could celebrate with you again this year like we did here.

 

japanese rice noodles with eggplant and edamame

Happy Pi Day!  Since I can't actually eat pie, or at least I have zero interest in trying a gluten-free, sugar-free pie, there is no pie here today.  Instead, we have Asian noodles.  Shocker, I know.  Y'all know how I love my Asian cuisine.

I'm now three weeks through my Lenten sacrifice, or just about halfway through my journey.  All in all, things are going well.  I feel great.  I don't necessarily notice a big difference from three weeks ago, but I do feel a little less "bogged down" and a little bit lighter and stronger.  (It could also just be my return to my yoga mat after a few weeks away.)  Either way, I have plenty of energy and feel happy and healthy.

Sure, I crave sweets and get FOMO over my friends eating Baked and Wired in front of me, but the things I've been craving most recently are foods I don't even eat that often.  Pancakes.  (Honestly, I don't even like pancakes that much.)  Cereal.  (Do you know how hard it is to find a gluten-free cereal that also does not contain some sort of sugar, including honey or evaporated cane juice?  Kelly did send me a recipe for a gluten-free/sugar-free breakfast granola.  I'll have to try that ASAP.)  French toast with powdered sugar and maple syrup.  You get the idea.

Then there are the things that I miss that aren't necessarily cravings, but rather, necessary food groups.  Part of the issue with my no-gluten thing is that I am not eating bread and pasta, which is not ideal for someone who runs several times a week.  I didn't think it was going to be a problem, but it has been evident on some of my long runs that I have not found a way to properly supply my body with the carbohydrates it needs.  (Pretty sure the carbs in vodka are not what my body is looking for while running.)  Around mile four or five, my body just shuts down and I need fuel.

So, to rectify the situation, I figured I needed to make some Asian noodles before my long run last weekend.  My original intention was to make something with soba (buckwheat) noodles, which, despite their name, are naturally gluten-free.  However, the 100% soba noodles were $6.39 for eight ounces, which is obscene.  That comes to almost $13/pound.  Um, sorry.  No thank you.  We're talking about noodles here, not halibut.  (Note:  if you need a lesson in food math, check out this post.)

Instead of soba, I settled on some thin, flat rice noodles, made from 100% brown rice, and therefore, gluten-free.  Because I've consumed an offensive amount of peanut butter recently, I decided to forgo the traditional pad thai route and try a sesame-mirin sauce instead.  Also, because I tend to favor vegetarian meals, I stirfried some eggplant, edamame, and red peppers in with the noodles.  You could easily do the same with chicken, beef, or tofu.

This is a great example of a dish where I had to be really careful about reading the labels.  I originally picked up some cheaper soba noodles and decided to double-check the label to make sure they were 100% buckwheat.  Of course, they were not - only 30% soba.  If you like the taste of soba but are not gluten-free, this would be a great option.  I also had to buy the Eden Foods mirin, which doesn't have sugar or corn syrup added.  (The common Kikkoman brand does).

Anyway, this dish is great.  Salty (from the soy sauce) and sweet (from the mirin), with a variety of textures and flavors to keep your mouth guessing.  It also happens to contain the perfect mixture of carbohydrates and proteins for a 9-mile run.  This time, I didn't get tired.*

*Fine print:  I didn't get tired until mile 8.5 when we were running up the steps in Meridian Hill Park just after a steep climb up 16th Street.  At that point, I almost keeled over. #humblebrag

Japanese rice noodles with eggplant and edamame
A caramelized memoir original
Serves 4

1 medium eggplant (about 1 ½ pounds)
2 cups edamame beans (frozen is fine)
6 green onions
½ red bell pepper
1/2 cup gluten-free soy sauce
1/4 cup mirin (Japanese sweet wine)
2 tablespoons rice wine vinegar
2 tablespoons sesame oil
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1 tablespoon freshly grated ginger
Pinch red pepper flakes (optional)
1 tablespoon vegetable oil, for frying

1. Peel eggplant and chop into small dice (less than an inch). Chop red pepper and green onions, both white and green parts. Put all vegetables in large bowl with edamame.
2. In smaller bowl, mix next seven ingredients. Adjust according to taste. Pour over vegetables and cover. Let marinate 30 minutes.
3. Over medium-high heat, stirfry the vegetables in oil in a large wok, in batches, if necessary, until vegetables are soft and nicely browned. (I had to do mine in two batches, about 7 minutes per batch.) Once both batches are done, add all vegetables back to wok.
4. While cooking your last batch of veggies, bring a pot of boiling salted water to a boil and add rice noodles. Cook according to package directions but stop a couple of minutes short. Drain.
5.  Add noodles to the wok with all the vegetables, cooking an additional minute or two and adding any leftover marinade, if necessary, while tossing to coat in sauce.  Serve warm or at room temperature.

"sweet" treats

What do y'all think about last night's finale of The Bachelor?  Personally, I haven't been watching this season too closely because I think Ben is the worst, but I did watch the scene where he broke up with Lindzi.  Watching her profess her love for him, and him lacking the decency to stop her, was like watching a train wreck in slow motion.  Unfortunately, any sympathy I felt for the girl was instantly erased when she walked away and said, "If it doesn't work out, call me."  Um, what?  How desperate.  Consider yourself lucky, honey - you got dumped on a mountaintop in Switzerland.  This sure beats your last boyfriend, who sent the infamous "Welcome to Dumpsville.  Population: You" text message.  (Yes, that is my best attempt at finding the silver lining.  Now you know why I am a realist.)

If my friend Jamie knew Lindzi, he would hand her a jar of peanut butter and tell her to get over it.  Jamie is infamous in our circle of friends for a comment he once made about depressed girls "crying in front of the TV eating peanut butter straight out of the jar."  It was his opinion that every female did this after being shunned, dumped, or otherwise dismissed.  We ladies all vehemently denied it, evenly split on whether cupcakes or outright fasting was the more likely alternative.  Well Jamie, I concede defeat....kind of.  Peanut butter isn't just for sad girls.  Peanut butter is for everyone!  (Unless you're an anaphylatic.  In which case, it's not.)

Let's get one thing straight.  I am not sad, nor am I quite at the stage where I am spooning it from the jar, but peanut butter is rocking my world in ways that Bachelor Ben never could.  (Seriously.  He is a snooze fest and he looks like the love child of Rafael Nadal and Josh Groban, if that were biologically possible.)  I find that the only thing that has been able to satisfy my sweet tooth over the last three weeks is the pairing of all-natural peanut butter (no sugar added) and a very overripe banana (natural sugar).  This is weird because, though I loved peanut butter and banana sandwiches growing up, I've developed a slight aversion to nut butters over the years.  They make me feel sick to my stomach if I have more than just a little bit.

My new "sweet treat" is a peanut butter-banana "ice cream," made in just two minutes. Simply cut a very ripe banana (brown, preferably) into thirds or fourths and freeze. Once completely frozen, toss pieces in a food processor with a spoonful of all-natural peanut butter and blend away until a smooth puree forms.  Sprinkle in some unsweetened coconut or, if you're not avoiding sugar, some chocolate chips.  Obviously it is no Chunky Monkey, but it hits the spot for now.   (Note: the black specs in the picture below are bruises on the banana.  This one was kinda beat up.)

You want to use the ripest bananas you can find if you are trying to eschew added sugar.  In fact, you don't want to know what I've done to satisfy a craving for PBB ice cream with no overripe bananas in my fruit bowl.  It may have involved flirting with the produce men at Safeway.  Bat your eyelashes whilst asking if there are any overripe bananas in the back, and miraculously the answer goes from "naw, girl" to "lemme run down and check for you."  Five minutes later, a bouquet of brown bananas materializes, and without even asking, they get marked down to something like 19 cents a pound.  (Which, as an economist, baffles me.  My specific demand for the differentiated bananas indicates I'm likely to pay a higher price for them, so they could probably get away with gauging the price instead of reducing it.  Amateurs.)

For an on-the-go treat, or for those lacking a food processor, try slicing bananas into rounds, topping with a knive's tip of peanut butter and perhaps some shredded unsweetened coconut, and freezing overnight.  Word to the wise - do not make more at one time than you would like to eat in one sitting.  Because you will not be able to stop eating them.  If you have something resembling restraint (Lord knows I certainly do not), store them in an airtight container or Ziploc bag.

If you don't like the classic PBB combo, try these date balls, which are essentially popable Larabar bites.  Process the dates into a thick paste with a just a hint of nut butter and either pulverized almonds, pistachios, or unsweetened coconut.  Roll them into a ball and refrigerate half an hour.  Voila, another winner. For these, you want the biggest, plumpest dates you can find - preferably ones that are still sticky when you touch them.  If you can get the large medjool dates, its worth the splurge to buy those.  If you can only find smaller, drier dates, just cover them in boiling water and let sit before draining well and processing.  They should be plumper and more workable after sitting for 15 minutes or so.

So, for the love of all that is good, someone please send this page to Lindzi.  Tell her to make herself some peanut butter banana ice cream and then go out on the town.  Something tells me she'll be just fine.

shrimp with feta and fennel

 

 

 Happy Monday!  I hope you all had a glorious weekend.  In no particular order, here are my highlights:

• Celebrating Amanda's birthday with Guapos and a really awesome novelty straw fashioned into sunglasses/headpiece.  
• Watching the Hoos Mens Lacrosse team beat Cornell in overtime.....while simultaneously playing in a bridge tournament in which 90% of the other participants were eligible for AARP membership.  Shocker.
• Receiving the word "sext" from my mom on Words With Friends.  Not sure if I was more confused that the game actually accepted it, or that it came from my mother.  (Role reversal from 1992.  "Don't say that word!  Where did you hear that?") 
• Finally hearing that new catchy tune "Call Me Maybe" and falling in love with it.  If you know my affinity for cheesy pop tunes targeted at the 18 & under demographic, this should come as no surprise.  Mark my word, this song will be the official Summer 2012 anthem.

 

Speaking of summer, it's barely springtime here, but the tease of this week's warm weather forecast has me craving long days, warm nights, and frequent trips to sandy beaches.  To me, summer signifies a three-month hiatus from life - even in the "real world."  Lunches are slightly longer and lazier.  The work week shortens as people sneak out of the office at a few hours early on Fridays.  Men dress down slightly, because nobody wants to wear a tie in 100 degree weather.  Vitamin D intoxicates even the most curmudgeonly among us, and everyone is happier and nicer. 

 

And of course, some people have vacations to look forward to in the summer - the ultimate escape from reality.  Every summer, I count down the days until I go to the beach.  And if I'm lucky enough to go more than once, the countdown starts back up again the day I get back.  My beach house is my happy place.  There's nothing better than spending time with the people I love, doing the things that I like to do.  Life is simple there.  There is no agenda.  No obligations.  My biggest concern is how I am going to occupy myself while laying on my stomach.  (Come on - nobody likes tan-your-back day.)  We play lots of cards and Scrabble and drink lots of daquiris.  We are early to bed and early to rise - but with nowhere to go, we don't mind.  Compare this with my hectic day-to-day, and it's no wonder I am counting down the days as soon as I come back to reality.  (#mylifeishard)

 

Dinner at the beach is fast, simple, light, and easy.  Lots of grilled vegetables.  Fresh corn on the cob.  Salads.  Steaks on the grill.  Fish.  Last summer, I remember making a shrimp pasta with my mom.  It was our last night at the beach and we wanted to use up everything we had.  Ripe tomatoes.  Zucchini and squash.  Portobello mushrooms.  Home-grown basil.  Fresh shrimp.  All cooked down together into a rich sauce and tossed over cheese tortellini.  It was a dinner, like many others before it, born out of complete necessity.  I don't think we even thought much of it as we sat down to eat it.  Hell, I don't even know if anyone else in my family remembers it.  But I do.  This dinner stuck with me, for one reason or another.  I'd say it was the best meal I had last summer, no joke.  (And let's just say I ate really well last summer and may have put on a few pounds to prove it.) 

 

But, because I don't have fresh summer produce right now, and I can't eat angel hair, my heaven-on-a-plate had to be reinvented.  I made this last week using a head of fennel and high-quality diced tomatoes, and ladled the sauce over quinoa instead.  (It would also be good over rice, or on its own.)  It was still delicious, though I can say that the background noise of Law & Order: SVU is not quite as peaceful as waves breaking on the beach.  Only 74 days until I get a chance to remedy that with my next beach vacation. 

 

But who's counting?

 

Sauteed Shrimp and Fennel with Feta
Adapted from Eating Well
Serves 2

 

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
1 large fennel bulb, cored and cut into 2-inch-long strips (about 4 cups)
1 15-ounce can San Marzano diced tomatoes
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1/2 pound peeled and deveined raw shrimp
2 tablespoons crumbled feta cheese
chopped parsley, for garnish

 

1.   Heat oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add fennel and cook, stirring occasionally, until starting to brown, 6 to 8 minutes.
2.  Add tomatoes, garlic, oregano, and pepper, stirring and scraping up any browned bits.  Warm thoroughly until mixture starts to bubble, about one minute.
3.  Add shrimp and cook, stirring occasionally, until pink and just cooked through, about 4 minutes.
4.  Remove from heat and stir in feta and parsley.
5.  Serve on its own, or over rice or quinoa.