... I am slowly going crazy, 1-2-3-4-5-6--Switch.
Crazy going slowly am I, 6-5-4-3-2-1-switch.
The term will be officially over in seventeen hours, when my philosophy paper needs to be in the doctor's hands.
I'm going out of my mind.
I've locked myself out of the kitchen.
I'm on page one. Of 10. Even though I've been writing since I finished my physiology test at 2 today.
I do believe I'm going to go ride my bike to get my hair cut. Then, there will only be 14 hours left and maybe I'll write a little bit faster.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Some things I love right now.
This kitten face.
Turning off the heater and lighting a fire, with all of this wood.
Starting said fire, all by myself, even if it takes 10 minutes.
Letting said fire burn down to embers... then putting more wood on it and watching it ignite with my breath.
A fridge full of leftovers, still, one week after the feast.
My incredible classmates.
Finals week, and how that means I can sleep in, wear my pjs all day long and pretend like life is for dawdling--and then cramming in the 11th hour.
Finals week, and how that means I'm almost 1/12th of the way to becoming a doctor.
Craft blogs. My new favorite procrastination distraction.
Namaste cookie mix, with butterscotch chips, chocolate chips, coconut and rolled oats, just like I used to make the "real deal"
The snowflakes that fell this morning.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Not for the faint hearted.
I have a bad case of the creeped-out crawlies. You know the ones. The goosebumpy, spiderweby, bugs-on-me tingly ones; the sight every little speck with a gasp, and approach with caution, poking with stick or fork or toe until it's been determined that said speck is in fact a speck--a part of a leaf, a crumble of turkey, your housemate's daughter's cereal--and not the goosebumpy, spiderweby, bugs-on-me thing you were hoping it wasn't.
I went to the cupboard for quinoa today. I have some four gallons of turkey broth from last week's feast, and I wanted to use some to boil up a bowl of grains. Grains. I know. But it's finals week, and it's turkey broth, and it's quinoa and--I wanted some.
So I went to the cupboard and started fishing for quinoa. First to the big tupperware full of bulk bags and half-useds. Near the bottom, I spotted a bag of little pearlies so I grabbed it--millet. Darn. But wait--millet with little pieces of sand. Little pieces of sand, and silky looking webs...pale beads of millet sticking to the soft plastic in clumbs... and WORMS! Just writing it sends those shivers back up my spine.
Ok. So worms in the millet. But wait--there were worms in the oats, too. Not just the open bag of rolled oats I used in cookies not three days ago, but in the sealed paint-can of a tin of steel-cut oats. And in the glass jar of rye--I didn't dare open that jar. The top inch was clouded over with web, and the bottom eighth full of telltale crumbles. And in the quinoa. Just barely--but barely enough.
I do believe I was infested with our friend the Indian Meal Moth. Ewwww.
I mean it's cool and everything--the shimmery webs, the way the larvae are these neat little, white, parasitic looking worms who spin as they eat, clumping the grains together as a way of saying "look who's home!" before cocooning into a cranny to morph into the triangular gray moths I found in the deep crevices of some of my bags--but EWWWWWWWWWW.
This prompted a full-scale investigation. My findings? Gross!
The the lentils, the coconut, the instant oatmeal (pathetic, I know, but I really was hoping these were clean). The raisins. The raisins were probably the worst. Hell, I even had one in my parchment paper box (I'm so glad I checked).
Graciously, I think my newly purchased bags of Namaste pizza crust and muffin mixes were spared. There was a wriggling worm, wrapped in its own web and tucked into the paper bag crease of one--but no evidence of anything getting inside.
I guess it had been a long time coming--I'd needed to purge a lot of that from my life, but didn't have the heart to toss it and most of it wasn't donatable. Some of those boxes and bags traveled with me from California, two years ago--a few of them lived in my dorm room for even a year before that. The pantry looks a lot better. I just wish I hadn't had to throw away so much food!
and I kinda wish I had some quinoa to boil in my turkey broth.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Thanksgiving Picture Story
A few photos from our Thanksgiving
we named her Donna
that's my little sister on the right. SO HAPPY she could come up to visit
for the week. Donna isn't all the way cooked here, but we needed to send
Mom a picture she could print and put up for the family Thanksgiving
going on in California. Check out that pile of roasted Brussel's Sprouts!
cohosts extraordinaries: Mamie, Tiffany and me.
We're pretty excited the turkey is ALL the way cooked when we wanted it to be!
It's amazing what you can do in a 10x12 foot space with a little
creativity. Dinner for 10 (party for 15), on sheet wood and
overturned recycling bins.
22 1/4 pounds of turkey--for five meat eaters
We carved it with our fingers.
(finger food turkey fest)
Leslie, Kelly, Laura--reading the dish cards to know
that their food is allergen-free.
We are thankful for this food.
We are thankful for our school.
We are thankful for each other.
I am so blessed to have such a family away from family.
Two badasses in the kitchen. Nolan had been a vegetarian
for 10 years before he met our turkey, Donna.
Then he went on to eat an entire drumstick.
we named her Donna
that's my little sister on the right. SO HAPPY she could come up to visit
for the week. Donna isn't all the way cooked here, but we needed to send
Mom a picture she could print and put up for the family Thanksgiving
going on in California. Check out that pile of roasted Brussel's Sprouts!
cohosts extraordinaries: Mamie, Tiffany and me.
We're pretty excited the turkey is ALL the way cooked when we wanted it to be!
It's amazing what you can do in a 10x12 foot space with a little
creativity. Dinner for 10 (party for 15), on sheet wood and
overturned recycling bins.
22 1/4 pounds of turkey--for five meat eaters
We carved it with our fingers.
(finger food turkey fest)
Leslie, Kelly, Laura--reading the dish cards to know
that their food is allergen-free.
We are thankful for this food.
We are thankful for our school.
We are thankful for each other.
I am so blessed to have such a family away from family.
Two badasses in the kitchen. Nolan had been a vegetarian
for 10 years before he met our turkey, Donna.
Then he went on to eat an entire drumstick.
Monday, November 19, 2007
An Autumnal Feast
This Thanksgiving, I'm hosting.
Well, me and a couple of my girlfriends. And my little sister, by default, because she's coming to visit (!!!!!!).
This year, like last year, I'm feeding friends who don't have families in town.
An Orphans Thanksgiving.
A feast of Thanksgiving.
And this year, like last year, everything is going to be free of wheat, dairy, sugar and soy. We've cut construction paper dish signs so that people can mark their ingredients and whether their food is veg or not; I know that I, for one, am excited that I'll be able to fill my plate and my belly and not get sick.
We've ordered a free range turkey which I'm brining and roasting it as per Mr. Alton Brown (he hasn't let me down yet, and people are still talking about last year's bird--so let's do it again!). Christa is going to assemble the ginger, tangerine, cranberry relish. Bob's Red Mill's mix is giving up the cornbread (oh, so good, really), and we're rounding out our part of the meal with a green bean casserole-inspired mushroom and roasted brussel's sprouts dish (topped with lard-fried shallots) and a butternut squash smash, reminiscent of sweet potatoes and enriched with a splash of Grand Marnier. Oh yes--and this pumpkin pie, sans crust. And hot mulled cider with spiced rum to make it extra warming. And- okay.
Leslie is making vegan lentil loaf, vegetarian gravy and something yummy of broccoli and rice.
Tiffany is making beet soup in acorn squash, green beans tossed with meyer lemon and toasted pine nuts and her yummy gluten-free banana cookies. Oh, and honey butter I'm going to want to eat off a spoon.
Mamie is on mashed potatoes.
There's more, too. More friends, more food. We're expecting 15 or so over the course of the night; 10 for sitting down to dinner, I think?
It is SO FUN to take this over the top. To stay up late looking at recipes. To ponder my utensils and serving dishes instead of physiology. To load up with what is going to be too much food, and feel a little guilty and excessive about it.... and feel so, so thankful that this food, and these friends, and that night are a possibility.
Well, me and a couple of my girlfriends. And my little sister, by default, because she's coming to visit (!!!!!!).
This year, like last year, I'm feeding friends who don't have families in town.
An Orphans Thanksgiving.
A feast of Thanksgiving.
And this year, like last year, everything is going to be free of wheat, dairy, sugar and soy. We've cut construction paper dish signs so that people can mark their ingredients and whether their food is veg or not; I know that I, for one, am excited that I'll be able to fill my plate and my belly and not get sick.
We've ordered a free range turkey which I'm brining and roasting it as per Mr. Alton Brown (he hasn't let me down yet, and people are still talking about last year's bird--so let's do it again!). Christa is going to assemble the ginger, tangerine, cranberry relish. Bob's Red Mill's mix is giving up the cornbread (oh, so good, really), and we're rounding out our part of the meal with a green bean casserole-inspired mushroom and roasted brussel's sprouts dish (topped with lard-fried shallots) and a butternut squash smash, reminiscent of sweet potatoes and enriched with a splash of Grand Marnier. Oh yes--and this pumpkin pie, sans crust. And hot mulled cider with spiced rum to make it extra warming. And- okay.
Leslie is making vegan lentil loaf, vegetarian gravy and something yummy of broccoli and rice.
Tiffany is making beet soup in acorn squash, green beans tossed with meyer lemon and toasted pine nuts and her yummy gluten-free banana cookies. Oh, and honey butter I'm going to want to eat off a spoon.
Mamie is on mashed potatoes.
There's more, too. More friends, more food. We're expecting 15 or so over the course of the night; 10 for sitting down to dinner, I think?
It is SO FUN to take this over the top. To stay up late looking at recipes. To ponder my utensils and serving dishes instead of physiology. To load up with what is going to be too much food, and feel a little guilty and excessive about it.... and feel so, so thankful that this food, and these friends, and that night are a possibility.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Lardo
I borrowed my friend Greg's beer brewing pot. It's big. Big enough for my current projects, which include rendering lard, brining a turkey and making some serious broth.
Today's adventure? Caul fat. Shimmery, lacy, globule-speckled caul fat.
I bought 15 pounds of it from my favorite pork man a couple of weeks back. My plan was to render it into lard... but for what uses? Apart from seasoning my cast iron pan, I had no idea. It just sounded like fun.
Initially, I thought I should have been more specific and asked for leaf lard, the soft fat similar to what you find in your bacon. Supposedly, that's top quality pastry lard. Despite not eating pastry, that's what I wanted.
Caul fat is much more famous for its place around meats. At the farmer's market, it makes an appearance around Viande Meats' pates. It's the crispy membrane around a crepinette (the new thing-to-do in NYC restaurants, so I hear); it's what holds stuffed roasts together, and what imparts moisture to thick, free range cuts. On the lard scale, it's bottom of the line.
Nevertheless, I had 15 pounds of it and an original plan.... so I cut that lacy membrane into pieces and filled Greg's pot.
I'd read as much as I could google about rendering lard. Of course, most website contradicted all the other website--and none of them wanted to talk about rendering caul. So, I put the pot on the stove and let it do its thang--whatever that was going to be.
Appetizing, huh? I really ought to have taken a picture of the final product--it looked nothing like this. In time, in patience, in heat, this sticky lump melted into a viscous oil and crispy membrane bits. I strained the clear stuff into jars, and mixed what remained with sauteed onions to eat on slices of apple. Yum.
The lard is pristine white, as solid as butter 'cause I keep it in the fridge, but a joy to cook with. I try not to smoke it (I think what I REALLY really wanted was beef suet. Maybe another time?) so I'm not really sauteeing things... but it makes a mean breakfast egg.
And, it did one heck of a job seasoning my cast iron.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Stock Pot
I have 15 pounds of caul fat in my freezer right now. I bought it from my favorite pork man, who assured me he could hook me up when I asked if he had fat I could render into lard. Fifteen pounds of silky, dew-drenched spiderweb looking fat frozen into a solid hunk.
A frozen 15 pound hunk which I full intend to render into tasty and usable lard... just as soon as I find a pot in which to do it, 'cause my 10 inch cast iron skillet just ain't gonna cut it.
A frozen 15 pound hunk which I full intend to render into tasty and usable lard... just as soon as I find a pot in which to do it, 'cause my 10 inch cast iron skillet just ain't gonna cut it.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Struggles
I consider myself pretty darn lucky. My biggest challenge right now?
Studying biochemistry.... instead of reading Shauna James Ahern's new book, which I finally got my grubby fingers on when I went to meet her at the Bob's Red Mill store instead of attending my Histlogy lecture.
C'mon. It's a quality of life issue.
So, instead of doing either, I get on here. Productive!
Studying biochemistry.... instead of reading Shauna James Ahern's new book, which I finally got my grubby fingers on when I went to meet her at the Bob's Red Mill store instead of attending my Histlogy lecture.
C'mon. It's a quality of life issue.
So, instead of doing either, I get on here. Productive!
Cavemen
My parents returned home on Thursday night. Everything on the other side of Highland Valley Road is burned, completely. Their house was untouched. My heart goes out to everyone affected by those flames--they're still going.
I have a constant internal dialog these days. A stream of consciousness, it runs through the back of my mind, like fuzzy television sound, not quite white beneath more intentional thought and activity. It sounds something like this: "dehydrogenase is the enzyme that uses NAD+ to remove a hydrogen from a substrate--I think. The respiratory cavities go "trachea, bronchi, bronchiole, terminal bronchiole, alveolar duct. I think. The radius is connected to the scaphoid, lunate and triquetrum, and to the ulna. I think. Right atria, right ventricle, pulmonary vein, lungs, pulmonary artery, left atria, left ventricle, aorta. Mucosa, sub mucosa, muscalaris. Aorta, arteries, arterioles, capillaries, venules, veins--" and so on and so forth, rendering me all but useless, interpersonally.
Really, they ought not let us first years socialize.
My other internal dialog is about food. Mashed butternut squash with garlic, onions, chicken stock, butter, leeks and coarse ground pepper. Crock pot pot roast. Five and a half quarts of chicken soup, homemade and brimming with too many vegetables. Chantrelle mushrooms sauteed with butter and olive oil, onions, garlic and bacon, deglazed with good red wine and tossed with shrimp. Oh, yum. Tapioca bread and raw goat's milk cheddar grilled cheese sandwiches. GF chocolate chip cookies a la Bob's Red Mill, so yummy that my biochem class had no idea they were allergen free. (Grains. I know. Sugar, I know. It's a quality of life issue.) Deviled egg eyeballs.
I feel like I've found a flow with school. I'm not drowning. I'm not even treading water: I'm doing okay. I've figured out what material I learn better on my own, and for which I ought to attend lecture (I must admit, it's still a little thrilling, even in week 8, to be a class ditcher). I've passed all my tests (biochem Wednesday might be another story?) so far, and have still made time to bowl terribly on my Underdog league, sleep 8ish hours most nights, get my groove on at Halloween parties (so far, three costumes and counting. the 31st should make four?), finish Nina Planck's book, and, most of the time, to feed myself.
Much to the disappointment of my vocabulary and syntax, writing is not one of those things I've made much time for. Good thing no one reads me :) Maybe next term.
I have a constant internal dialog these days. A stream of consciousness, it runs through the back of my mind, like fuzzy television sound, not quite white beneath more intentional thought and activity. It sounds something like this: "dehydrogenase is the enzyme that uses NAD+ to remove a hydrogen from a substrate--I think. The respiratory cavities go "trachea, bronchi, bronchiole, terminal bronchiole, alveolar duct. I think. The radius is connected to the scaphoid, lunate and triquetrum, and to the ulna. I think. Right atria, right ventricle, pulmonary vein, lungs, pulmonary artery, left atria, left ventricle, aorta. Mucosa, sub mucosa, muscalaris. Aorta, arteries, arterioles, capillaries, venules, veins--" and so on and so forth, rendering me all but useless, interpersonally.
Really, they ought not let us first years socialize.
My other internal dialog is about food. Mashed butternut squash with garlic, onions, chicken stock, butter, leeks and coarse ground pepper. Crock pot pot roast. Five and a half quarts of chicken soup, homemade and brimming with too many vegetables. Chantrelle mushrooms sauteed with butter and olive oil, onions, garlic and bacon, deglazed with good red wine and tossed with shrimp. Oh, yum. Tapioca bread and raw goat's milk cheddar grilled cheese sandwiches. GF chocolate chip cookies a la Bob's Red Mill, so yummy that my biochem class had no idea they were allergen free. (Grains. I know. Sugar, I know. It's a quality of life issue.) Deviled egg eyeballs.
I feel like I've found a flow with school. I'm not drowning. I'm not even treading water: I'm doing okay. I've figured out what material I learn better on my own, and for which I ought to attend lecture (I must admit, it's still a little thrilling, even in week 8, to be a class ditcher). I've passed all my tests (biochem Wednesday might be another story?) so far, and have still made time to bowl terribly on my Underdog league, sleep 8ish hours most nights, get my groove on at Halloween parties (so far, three costumes and counting. the 31st should make four?), finish Nina Planck's book, and, most of the time, to feed myself.
Much to the disappointment of my vocabulary and syntax, writing is not one of those things I've made much time for. Good thing no one reads me :) Maybe next term.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
California knows how to party
Southern California is on fire. My parents and brother, along with more than 500,000 others were evacuated on Sunday and are safe. The fire went straight through where my parents live in Ramona; once the roads open up again, we'll know what's still standing. Bigger than that, though, is the massive amount of destruction and the incredible number of families and businesses affected. Please, keep that region--especially the heroic firemen--in your prayers
(Some pictures I stole from a myspace bulletin. Truly amazing, in so many ways.)
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Riding my bike home from school this afternoon, I listened to the soft patter of leaves hitting the sidewalk and I had to zip my jacket against the chilly air.
Autumn is coming quickly.
At the market this morning, I could buy strawberries, raspberries and blackberries if I wanted to. I could also buy pumpkins and butternut squash. Pears were out in abundance, and apples and peaches. Delicate lettuce stood beside heartier kale, and the first crops of beets were on display. What a delightful, delightful time for eating.
So much has happened, so much has changed, since I posted last in July.
For one, I spent twelve nights on a baltic cruise, and 10 days between Paris and Italy.
For two through fifty six, I started medical school; I adopted a stray kitten, four weeks old; the Walk a Mile in Her Shoes march went off without a hitch; I moved from my huge Hawthorne house and my five lovely housemates to a two bedroom duplex. Tomorrow, my new duplex mate will move in and things will change some more.
I feel like I am living a completely different life. In many ways, I am.
There are so many things I would love to write here: of the lunch in St. Petersburg, Russia at which I tasted my first caviar; of the market and the reindeer bratwurst in Finland; of the midnight buffets, the salsa dancing and staying up all night with my sister. Of the gelato in Italy and the pimples it gave me (oh, the wheat, dairy and sugar... and the havoc it wrecked!); the burger in the Bastile, and the midnight wine on the roof of a deer friend's Parisian apartment in view of the illuminated Eiffel Tower; of the local specialty in Monterosso: frozen TV dinner chestnut pasta with pesto.
And I'd love to write about cooking in the morning for a full day of eating, stowing the hot foods in glass jars and stuffing them into my backpack for my ride to school, and of how I couldn't resist the Ben and Jerry's on sale at Fred Meyer's last week (but am paying the price. when will I learn???), and of my tiny kitten's affinity for chicken hearts.
In my head, there are beautiful narratives of all these things. And, in my various picasas, there are pictures of most of them.
But, on my living room floor right now I have yet-unpacked boxes, stacks of notes and books and lists of assignments which all require my present attention.
Autumn is coming quickly.
At the market this morning, I could buy strawberries, raspberries and blackberries if I wanted to. I could also buy pumpkins and butternut squash. Pears were out in abundance, and apples and peaches. Delicate lettuce stood beside heartier kale, and the first crops of beets were on display. What a delightful, delightful time for eating.
So much has happened, so much has changed, since I posted last in July.
For one, I spent twelve nights on a baltic cruise, and 10 days between Paris and Italy.
For two through fifty six, I started medical school; I adopted a stray kitten, four weeks old; the Walk a Mile in Her Shoes march went off without a hitch; I moved from my huge Hawthorne house and my five lovely housemates to a two bedroom duplex. Tomorrow, my new duplex mate will move in and things will change some more.
I feel like I am living a completely different life. In many ways, I am.
There are so many things I would love to write here: of the lunch in St. Petersburg, Russia at which I tasted my first caviar; of the market and the reindeer bratwurst in Finland; of the midnight buffets, the salsa dancing and staying up all night with my sister. Of the gelato in Italy and the pimples it gave me (oh, the wheat, dairy and sugar... and the havoc it wrecked!); the burger in the Bastile, and the midnight wine on the roof of a deer friend's Parisian apartment in view of the illuminated Eiffel Tower; of the local specialty in Monterosso: frozen TV dinner chestnut pasta with pesto.
And I'd love to write about cooking in the morning for a full day of eating, stowing the hot foods in glass jars and stuffing them into my backpack for my ride to school, and of how I couldn't resist the Ben and Jerry's on sale at Fred Meyer's last week (but am paying the price. when will I learn???), and of my tiny kitten's affinity for chicken hearts.
In my head, there are beautiful narratives of all these things. And, in my various picasas, there are pictures of most of them.
But, on my living room floor right now I have yet-unpacked boxes, stacks of notes and books and lists of assignments which all require my present attention.
Monday, July 23, 2007
What the World Eats
What the World Eats, Part II
http://www.time.com/time/photogallery/0,29307,1645016,00.html?xid=rss-photos
Thanks, Aaron.
http://www.time.com/time
Thanks, Aaron.
Monday, July 16, 2007
A New Kind of "Flat Bread"
I started eating them this way when I learned how very good for you runny yolked eggs are.
In "30 Minute GET REAL Meals" (a low carb-ish cookbook; not a bad reference for eating grain and sugar free), Rachel Ray makes a salsa topped, egg and cheese roll up. I read the recipe, imagined the endless filling options, and resisted...but never completely forgot.
A month ago, Heidi posted this skinny omelette recipe; and still, I resisted.
I resisted... until I had a jar full of swiss chard surprise (what to do when your friend sends you home with two pounds of chard, and you don't feel much like cooking? You wilt it all... then wait a week, and turn it into a food processor pesto of sorts. This time, it was garlic, ginger, kaffir lime, one and a half chicken breasts...but mostly garlic. And salt.), but no rice pasta on which to eat it. Since that fateful day, I've made a ton of these. They're delicious... and a great way to use up leftovers.
Tonight, after finally exhausting my jar of chard pesto (there's another container of it in the freezer, where it's going to stay for a while), I ventured into new ground: the pound of crimini mushrooms I'd been wanting to sautee for days. I chopped these in the food processor (I think I just decided I'd be using that gadget more often. Cutting and cleaning the machine together took less time than chopping all of those 'shrooms by hand would have) and threw them into a pan of melted organic butter to do their thing.
Then, I made one of these egg roll ups and stuffed it full of mushrooms. I sprinked salt and pepper, cut in a bit of chives and sprinkled on some plain chevre. Oh, so good. This is not the news, though. The news is that I left the bottom end of my mushroom burrito open, and lost a lot of my filling as I ate. The egg wrapper tore just like injera bread would have, and cleanly picked up my morsels to deliver them safely--and cleanly--to my mouth. Oh, the possibilities!
Egg "Flat Bread"
I've done this with two eggs or three, and with butter or olive oil. Three eggs was overkill.
Crack two fresh, cage-free organic eggs into a bowl. Beat them with a fork to a uniform pale yellow. Put fat in your largest frying pan (mine's 12 inches in diameter) and bring to heat. Slip your beaten eggs into the pan. Tip the pan gently to swirl the eggs around and around until they coats the bottom evenly and completely. Sprinkle with salt and pepper, if desired. I usually don't. At this point, you can cover the pan for a second, or leave it uncovered and wait only a few moments longer. The egg will set quickly. It's up to you how dry you let them become; I usually take them off the heat just as soon as the egg is set enough not to run when I tip the pan. A few firm shakes should release the "flat bread". If it doesn't, release the edges with a spatula, and peel the egg out on to a plate.
Then, get as creative as you'd like, ladling your filling down he middle of the wrapper. Fold one edge across your filling, and use it to pull your mixture into a tight log. Then roll and enjoy. I haven't had any problems with breakage, so I can imagine that the egg would hold up to being rolled burrito-style, with the bottom in, to contain your filling. I can also imagine that these would cut into appetizer-friendly pinwheels pretty nicely.
I want to try pigs in a blanket, with a tasty breakfast sausage link and maybe a drizzle of maple syrup. Hummous, sheep's feta, olives and spinach would be brilliant, too. Or mustard, turkey, sprouts and goat jack cheese; salmon with dill; refried beans and salsa--the possibilities are endless. I would only warn against something super rustic, like a caesar salad on iceberg lettuce: the lettuce would probably rip right through the roll-up.
I'm most thrilled for the next time my dinner calls for flat bread: the next time I'm eating Indian or Ethiopian (note: Ethiopain injera is traditionally made of teff, and is usually wheat-free), or anything else I want to pick up with my fingers. Sturdy enough to tear, thick enough to hold up, delicate enough to not add any strong flavor--I'm pretty excited about all the options!
Also exciting is that, unlike with a tortilla-based roll-up, the filling does not have to be protein based: two eggs is a good 14 grams of easily absorbed animal protein!
I've done this with two eggs or three, and with butter or olive oil. Three eggs was overkill.
Crack two fresh, cage-free organic eggs into a bowl. Beat them with a fork to a uniform pale yellow. Put fat in your largest frying pan (mine's 12 inches in diameter) and bring to heat. Slip your beaten eggs into the pan. Tip the pan gently to swirl the eggs around and around until they coats the bottom evenly and completely. Sprinkle with salt and pepper, if desired. I usually don't. At this point, you can cover the pan for a second, or leave it uncovered and wait only a few moments longer. The egg will set quickly. It's up to you how dry you let them become; I usually take them off the heat just as soon as the egg is set enough not to run when I tip the pan. A few firm shakes should release the "flat bread". If it doesn't, release the edges with a spatula, and peel the egg out on to a plate.
Then, get as creative as you'd like, ladling your filling down he middle of the wrapper. Fold one edge across your filling, and use it to pull your mixture into a tight log. Then roll and enjoy. I haven't had any problems with breakage, so I can imagine that the egg would hold up to being rolled burrito-style, with the bottom in, to contain your filling. I can also imagine that these would cut into appetizer-friendly pinwheels pretty nicely.
I want to try pigs in a blanket, with a tasty breakfast sausage link and maybe a drizzle of maple syrup. Hummous, sheep's feta, olives and spinach would be brilliant, too. Or mustard, turkey, sprouts and goat jack cheese; salmon with dill; refried beans and salsa--the possibilities are endless. I would only warn against something super rustic, like a caesar salad on iceberg lettuce: the lettuce would probably rip right through the roll-up.
I'm most thrilled for the next time my dinner calls for flat bread: the next time I'm eating Indian or Ethiopian (note: Ethiopain injera is traditionally made of teff, and is usually wheat-free), or anything else I want to pick up with my fingers. Sturdy enough to tear, thick enough to hold up, delicate enough to not add any strong flavor--I'm pretty excited about all the options!
Also exciting is that, unlike with a tortilla-based roll-up, the filling does not have to be protein based: two eggs is a good 14 grams of easily absorbed animal protein!
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Game Night
Deviled Eggs, with homemade mayonnaise, stone ground mustard, diced onion and celery, salt, pepper and paprika
Baba Ganoush from two firm, farmer's market eggplants, fire roasted under the broiler and blended with tahini, lemon and not quite enough garlic, served with olive tapenade and sheep's feta
Peeled, cooked, medium shrimp, heated through in a bath of olive oil, butter, garlic, and habanero pepper flakes, tossed with lemon zest, lemon juice and parsley.
Four pepper chevre and savory rice crackers.
Rice Pasta Pasta Salad, a la Toby
Mojitos for a crowd.
Games enough to go around.
No wheat, dairy, sugar (okay, maybe a little in the drinks) or soy. All good stuff.
Baba Ganoush from two firm, farmer's market eggplants, fire roasted under the broiler and blended with tahini, lemon and not quite enough garlic, served with olive tapenade and sheep's feta
Peeled, cooked, medium shrimp, heated through in a bath of olive oil, butter, garlic, and habanero pepper flakes, tossed with lemon zest, lemon juice and parsley.
Four pepper chevre and savory rice crackers.
Rice Pasta Pasta Salad, a la Toby
Mojitos for a crowd.
Games enough to go around.
No wheat, dairy, sugar (okay, maybe a little in the drinks) or soy. All good stuff.
Friday, June 29, 2007
What the World Eats
This Time Photo Essay is really interesting:
http://www.time.com/time/photogallery/0,29307,1626519_1373664,00.html
http://www.time.com/time/photogallery/0,29307,1626519_1373664,00.html
Friday, June 15, 2007
Monday, June 4, 2007
The Big Apple
Curbside hot dogs in New York City, hot off the cart Meat and Vegetables-style.(That's me with my fabulous sister and grandma.)
Virgil's BarbecueOh, my goodness. I don't know much about good barbecue, but I do know good food. This is good food. Mom and I shared the Pig-out Platter: pulled pork, brisket, sausage, tasty, tender, meaty ribs, a quarter of a chicken and a couple of sides. Eat here if you're ever looking for tasty, tasty eats in Time Square.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Chicken Something for the Soul
I'm home from work sick today. Finally. This stuffy, drippy, coughy, sore-throaty, can't talkie, headachey thing has been coming on, slowly, for a while now. But, the "responsible" inside of me makes it hard to take off from work when I know there are things for me to do there.
I woke up to my alarm at 7:30 this morning. I called my boss and fell back to sleep until 2pm. Whew.
I know I'm feeling better, because I just cooked some chicken goodness. I haven't had vegetables in my fridge for a week. Terrible, I know; but, I missed the farmer's market the last two Saturdays due to seminars and I've been avoiding the grocery store because I blew my food budget before the 15th of the month!
Anyway. Home sick. I walked to the produce stand down the street for some basics: spinach, chard, garlic, apples. Last week, I took some meat out of the freezer to defrost and I had a feeling it was getting near the end of its useful life. I'm taking the ground elk to a friend's birthday barbeque tonight. The other package was chicken breasts. Boneless, skinless chicken breasts. In my parents' house, I ate these for dinner more nights than not. Since cooking for myself, and committing to free-range organic, it's a cut of meat I can't really afford. At $6-7 per pound, give me red meat! (That, and there's so much good stuff in the skin and bones of a free range organic... why bother?) But this package was a gift from a friend who'd held it in her freezer for too long. So I took advantage.
I woke up to my alarm at 7:30 this morning. I called my boss and fell back to sleep until 2pm. Whew.
I know I'm feeling better, because I just cooked some chicken goodness. I haven't had vegetables in my fridge for a week. Terrible, I know; but, I missed the farmer's market the last two Saturdays due to seminars and I've been avoiding the grocery store because I blew my food budget before the 15th of the month!
Anyway. Home sick. I walked to the produce stand down the street for some basics: spinach, chard, garlic, apples. Last week, I took some meat out of the freezer to defrost and I had a feeling it was getting near the end of its useful life. I'm taking the ground elk to a friend's birthday barbeque tonight. The other package was chicken breasts. Boneless, skinless chicken breasts. In my parents' house, I ate these for dinner more nights than not. Since cooking for myself, and committing to free-range organic, it's a cut of meat I can't really afford. At $6-7 per pound, give me red meat! (That, and there's so much good stuff in the skin and bones of a free range organic... why bother?) But this package was a gift from a friend who'd held it in her freezer for too long. So I took advantage.
Spinach, Chicken, Feta Surprise
Coat your biggest frying pan with a drizzle of olive oil, and bring to heat.
Rinse your chicken breasts. Place in hot pan.
Season liberally with salt and pepper. Flip. Season again.
Allow to cook through. I'd separated the chicken tenders from the undersides of the breasts. These cook quickly! Keep an eye, so as not to dry them out.
Meanwhile, cut up the half onion that's been lying around, and chop a few cloves of garlic.
When the chicken is cooked, set it aside and put the freshly chopped yummies into the pan. Add more oil if necessary.
Remove the roots from a bunch of spinach. Wash well. Tear, if desired.
Chop or crumble some feta--I used about 3/4 of a carton of Trader Joe's "Authentic Greek Feta in brine" (sheep cheese = okay cheese). Chop the chicken breasts into slices or cubes or chunks or whatever.
When the onions and garlic are fragrant, add the spinach, tossing and wilting until it all fits in the pan. Add the feta. Add the chicken.
Crank up the heat. Toss and mix and cook until the spinach is as soft--or not--as you like, and the feta is as melted--or not--as you like.
Take off the heat and eat up.
Or, do what I did, and store it in something in the fridge until you have an appetite again.
Coat your biggest frying pan with a drizzle of olive oil, and bring to heat.
Rinse your chicken breasts. Place in hot pan.
Season liberally with salt and pepper. Flip. Season again.
Allow to cook through. I'd separated the chicken tenders from the undersides of the breasts. These cook quickly! Keep an eye, so as not to dry them out.
Meanwhile, cut up the half onion that's been lying around, and chop a few cloves of garlic.
When the chicken is cooked, set it aside and put the freshly chopped yummies into the pan. Add more oil if necessary.
Remove the roots from a bunch of spinach. Wash well. Tear, if desired.
Chop or crumble some feta--I used about 3/4 of a carton of Trader Joe's "Authentic Greek Feta in brine" (sheep cheese = okay cheese). Chop the chicken breasts into slices or cubes or chunks or whatever.
When the onions and garlic are fragrant, add the spinach, tossing and wilting until it all fits in the pan. Add the feta. Add the chicken.
Crank up the heat. Toss and mix and cook until the spinach is as soft--or not--as you like, and the feta is as melted--or not--as you like.
Take off the heat and eat up.
Or, do what I did, and store it in something in the fridge until you have an appetite again.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Frozen Grapes
I'm eating frozen grapes in a vain attempt to stay away from the Ben and Jerry's ice cream in the freezer at the 7-11 next door. It's 4 dollars I shouldn't spend and1240 calories I don't need. It's 108 grams of sugar and a pint of dairy. It's a sore throat in the morning, stiff knees and tiny, painful pimples around my mouth next week. It's delicious.
Sticking to the AK diet is really hard for me. Hard enough that I'm not very good at it. One of the reasons I started this blog was to have a place of accountability. So far, I am my own only reader and that is just perfect; this whole writing in a public space thing is new and a little embarrassing for me. I've considered making a formal blog-posted commitment to swear off wheat, dairy, sugar and soy for X number of weeks or months, and to follow it with these posts... but I don't want to fail. Besides, I want to eat cookies and ice cream sometimes--and feel guilty enough about it as it is.
Fail.
That's what it feels like I'm doing every time I dip my spoon back into this pint of "Everything but the..." on my nightstand. That vague sense of "not good enough" just makes me want to eat it more. So does the sense of "I feel a headache coming on" and "gosh, my gut's not quite right." It's such a twisted place to be, mentally.
I do not have celiac disease. I am not a diabetic. There is not a single food I know of that would send me into anaphalaxis. In that sense, I feel blessed--if I want to, when I want to, I can eat anything without really having to think twice about it. At the same time, though, I feel like if I had a more concrete, more immediate consequence, this would be easier.
I poison myself slowly.
After taking the "static" out of my system (unswitched, as we call it), an AK practitioner can test my muscles with and without different foods in my mouth. A strong quad--related to the small intestine--will go weak if I sample dairy. A strong lat--related to the pancrease and spleen--will weaken instantly to sugar, just a pinch, applied to my tongue. I've been involved in demonstrations twice during which our teacher, a highly skilled chiropractor to whom I will refer as DTF, finds my problems and fixes them only to make them reappear by dosing me with one of these foods. Lying on an adjusting table, vulnerable in front of a stadium-seated classroom full of mentors and peers, future colleagues, DTF adjusts a few bones, adresses a few muscles, and clears away neurological disorganization, trigger points and digestive issues, facilitates muscles and increases passive range of motion. Then, he sprinkles sugar or powdered milk on my tongue... and all of the strong muscles are weak again, the subluxations return, the flexibility is gone, the switching reappears.
I know how these things affect me.
But I eat them anyway. And I pay the price.
I've never been overweight, really. I've never suffered from a chronic disease, or migraines, or anything worse than a nasty cold or virus. Before I started getting better, I didn't know I was sick.
I thought it was normal to get dizzy when you stood up, to feel stuffed after a meal, to get tired around 3pm, stay alert until 2am and never wake up rested. I thought that, at 15 years as a sophomore in high school, my wrists and knees were just old. The doctor tested me for Lupus when I kept complaining that it hurt; my tests were negative. He told me to take Ibuprofen, and wrote me a note to get out of P.E.
Since cutting back on these foods, since getting AK adjustments and taking whole food supplements, I wake up rested. My energy holds through the day. My menses are easy; I don't black out when I stand up, I don't get heart palpitations. As long as I stay off the cookies, my knees don't ache. I don't get tonsil stones, anymore. My tummy stays flat, the circles under my eyes dissapear, my gait is graceful, my posture is strong, my skin clears up.
I don't get "wing bone pain", the dull ache underneath my shoulder blade that plagued me from 8th grade through college, anymore.
On Wednesday, I walked to Trader Joe's during my lunch. I bought a bag of chocolate chip cookies. I ate six of them during my trip back to the office. (I never can just eat one. Of anything.) My wing bone pain returned, even as I walked. The next day, I woke up bloated and stiff. My knees are achey, my throat is sore, I had a headache, which I rarely suffer, and there are tender-sore muscles up and down my spine.
I know what this stuff does to me. I don't enjoy it. I eat it anyway.
I feel like I can't stop. Then, I feel like I could stop if I really put my mind to it. But, I don't really want to put my mind to it. Why not? Because I'm not really that sick. And then I eat some, and then I feel terrible, and then I want to--both, simultaneously-- 1) get hardcore about the diet and 2) binge.
Food is so emotional for me.
Don't get me wrong. I revel in the stuff. I absolutely adore it. I love to eat. And, I love to eat the good stuff much more than I love to eat the bad stuff. But, it's like there's something inside of me that's not okay with this. Something that I don't know how to deal with, yet.
[Addendum: a place of accountability may have been one, teeny tiny reason I started writing here... but more so, because it was about time I started doing something about sharing how we can eat wheat, dairy, sugar and soy-free instead of just telling people to do it.]
Sticking to the AK diet is really hard for me. Hard enough that I'm not very good at it. One of the reasons I started this blog was to have a place of accountability. So far, I am my own only reader and that is just perfect; this whole writing in a public space thing is new and a little embarrassing for me. I've considered making a formal blog-posted commitment to swear off wheat, dairy, sugar and soy for X number of weeks or months, and to follow it with these posts... but I don't want to fail. Besides, I want to eat cookies and ice cream sometimes--and feel guilty enough about it as it is.
Fail.
That's what it feels like I'm doing every time I dip my spoon back into this pint of "Everything but the..." on my nightstand. That vague sense of "not good enough" just makes me want to eat it more. So does the sense of "I feel a headache coming on" and "gosh, my gut's not quite right." It's such a twisted place to be, mentally.
I do not have celiac disease. I am not a diabetic. There is not a single food I know of that would send me into anaphalaxis. In that sense, I feel blessed--if I want to, when I want to, I can eat anything without really having to think twice about it. At the same time, though, I feel like if I had a more concrete, more immediate consequence, this would be easier.
I poison myself slowly.
After taking the "static" out of my system (unswitched, as we call it), an AK practitioner can test my muscles with and without different foods in my mouth. A strong quad--related to the small intestine--will go weak if I sample dairy. A strong lat--related to the pancrease and spleen--will weaken instantly to sugar, just a pinch, applied to my tongue. I've been involved in demonstrations twice during which our teacher, a highly skilled chiropractor to whom I will refer as DTF, finds my problems and fixes them only to make them reappear by dosing me with one of these foods. Lying on an adjusting table, vulnerable in front of a stadium-seated classroom full of mentors and peers, future colleagues, DTF adjusts a few bones, adresses a few muscles, and clears away neurological disorganization, trigger points and digestive issues, facilitates muscles and increases passive range of motion. Then, he sprinkles sugar or powdered milk on my tongue... and all of the strong muscles are weak again, the subluxations return, the flexibility is gone, the switching reappears.
I know how these things affect me.
But I eat them anyway. And I pay the price.
I've never been overweight, really. I've never suffered from a chronic disease, or migraines, or anything worse than a nasty cold or virus. Before I started getting better, I didn't know I was sick.
I thought it was normal to get dizzy when you stood up, to feel stuffed after a meal, to get tired around 3pm, stay alert until 2am and never wake up rested. I thought that, at 15 years as a sophomore in high school, my wrists and knees were just old. The doctor tested me for Lupus when I kept complaining that it hurt; my tests were negative. He told me to take Ibuprofen, and wrote me a note to get out of P.E.
Since cutting back on these foods, since getting AK adjustments and taking whole food supplements, I wake up rested. My energy holds through the day. My menses are easy; I don't black out when I stand up, I don't get heart palpitations. As long as I stay off the cookies, my knees don't ache. I don't get tonsil stones, anymore. My tummy stays flat, the circles under my eyes dissapear, my gait is graceful, my posture is strong, my skin clears up.
I don't get "wing bone pain", the dull ache underneath my shoulder blade that plagued me from 8th grade through college, anymore.
On Wednesday, I walked to Trader Joe's during my lunch. I bought a bag of chocolate chip cookies. I ate six of them during my trip back to the office. (I never can just eat one. Of anything.) My wing bone pain returned, even as I walked. The next day, I woke up bloated and stiff. My knees are achey, my throat is sore, I had a headache, which I rarely suffer, and there are tender-sore muscles up and down my spine.
I know what this stuff does to me. I don't enjoy it. I eat it anyway.
I feel like I can't stop. Then, I feel like I could stop if I really put my mind to it. But, I don't really want to put my mind to it. Why not? Because I'm not really that sick. And then I eat some, and then I feel terrible, and then I want to--both, simultaneously-- 1) get hardcore about the diet and 2) binge.
Food is so emotional for me.
Don't get me wrong. I revel in the stuff. I absolutely adore it. I love to eat. And, I love to eat the good stuff much more than I love to eat the bad stuff. But, it's like there's something inside of me that's not okay with this. Something that I don't know how to deal with, yet.
[Addendum: a place of accountability may have been one, teeny tiny reason I started writing here... but more so, because it was about time I started doing something about sharing how we can eat wheat, dairy, sugar and soy-free instead of just telling people to do it.]
Thursday, May 17, 2007
10pm
It's 10 o'clock on a Thursday night. My kitchen smells so good right now; I wish I could make this scent into an air freshener to hang over the rear view mirror of my car.
In a pan on the stove, bacon sizzles loud and proud.
On the next burner, thinly sliced leeks melt, low and slow, into Kerrygold butter.
The bacon, cut into one inch squares, turns dark and crispy in a bath of clear, rendered fat. I drain it on a paper towel and pour most of the fat into the tin can I keep under the kitchen sink for that very purpose. A few tablespoons, though, go into a bow next to the stove and a teaspoon or so remains coating the bottom of the pan. I add a half of a leek--the firm, pale, stalk-half, which I've reserved from its melty fate and diced into tiny bits. These cook and crisp over medium heat; I'm careful not to let the bacon grease smoke (a sign that it's too hot and shifting shapes). Then comes the remainder of my red wine vinegar, about a tablespoon and a half. It protests loudly, bubbles and smokes, when it hits the hot pan. I swish it around with my coated tongs (my favorite kitchen tool, I think), scraping the bacon bits off the bottom of the pan, freeing all of the goodness. Oh, the smells. The thick, slightly acrid, buttery, bacony smells.
I squirt in a tablespoon or so of my housemate's local Dijon mustard (oops. I don't think he'll mind.) and stir vigorously. The mixture congeals, slightly. Before it begins to darken I dash it with sea salt and cracked pepper, and drizzle in a few more tablespoons of the still-warm bacon grease. Stir, stir, stir. Then I add, tong-full at a time, a whole head of frisee lettuce. It wilts, batch by batch, as I turn it against the bottom of the pan, wiping up the bacony, leeky, mustardy goodness. Not more than two minutes--it's done.
I put it in my favorite Indian pot and sprinkle it with bacon. Warm, like it is right now, I think it's my favorite salad. Cold, for breakfast, it's still tasty. I'll poach two eggs when I get out of the shower and their warm, golden yolks will seep through the soggy lettuce, coat the crispy bacon, and make my morning amazing.
This is that salad, made for a friend last week.
The bacon was burnt, the dressing to scant and I should have
poached two eggs each--but it was still delightful.
I need to work on my picture taking skills! I promise, it tasted better than it looks.
I'm drinking a "Natural Brew" ginger ale. (Oh! The sugar!! oh, the sugar.) As I dance around my kitchen at 10 o'clock on a Thursday night, it's perfect.
Now, a pound and a half of country sage bulk pork sausage is screaming from the bacon pan. It hisses and pops and sounds, well, delightful! The smell is sweet, like muffins or pancakes, not meat. It will go into an old glass cashew butter jar and I'll eat it cold or room temperature over the next few days, at work and in seminar. When the munchies say, "granola bar!" I'll say, "sausage!" and everything will be okay.
I let the leeks go too long. I became impatient and turned up the heat. Instead of melting into soft, translucent slivers they are mostly crispy and brown, like French Onions on green bean casserole, after they've sat for an hour or so and lost a little crunch. I melted goatzarella into the mix. Its salty stringyness hold the overcooked leeks in a coherent lump. I think I may put poached eggs on this, too, and eat it for lunch?
I am so lucky to be able to eat what I can, to be able to cook what I can, to be able to spend time how I do.
The frisee lettuce with warm bacon vinagrette and the leeks with mozarella cheese were both inspired by Shauna at glutenfreegirl She--her taste, her writing, her recipes and her joie de vivre--is a constant source of inspiration!
In a pan on the stove, bacon sizzles loud and proud.
On the next burner, thinly sliced leeks melt, low and slow, into Kerrygold butter.
The bacon, cut into one inch squares, turns dark and crispy in a bath of clear, rendered fat. I drain it on a paper towel and pour most of the fat into the tin can I keep under the kitchen sink for that very purpose. A few tablespoons, though, go into a bow next to the stove and a teaspoon or so remains coating the bottom of the pan. I add a half of a leek--the firm, pale, stalk-half, which I've reserved from its melty fate and diced into tiny bits. These cook and crisp over medium heat; I'm careful not to let the bacon grease smoke (a sign that it's too hot and shifting shapes). Then comes the remainder of my red wine vinegar, about a tablespoon and a half. It protests loudly, bubbles and smokes, when it hits the hot pan. I swish it around with my coated tongs (my favorite kitchen tool, I think), scraping the bacon bits off the bottom of the pan, freeing all of the goodness. Oh, the smells. The thick, slightly acrid, buttery, bacony smells.
I squirt in a tablespoon or so of my housemate's local Dijon mustard (oops. I don't think he'll mind.) and stir vigorously. The mixture congeals, slightly. Before it begins to darken I dash it with sea salt and cracked pepper, and drizzle in a few more tablespoons of the still-warm bacon grease. Stir, stir, stir. Then I add, tong-full at a time, a whole head of frisee lettuce. It wilts, batch by batch, as I turn it against the bottom of the pan, wiping up the bacony, leeky, mustardy goodness. Not more than two minutes--it's done.
I put it in my favorite Indian pot and sprinkle it with bacon. Warm, like it is right now, I think it's my favorite salad. Cold, for breakfast, it's still tasty. I'll poach two eggs when I get out of the shower and their warm, golden yolks will seep through the soggy lettuce, coat the crispy bacon, and make my morning amazing.
This is that salad, made for a friend last week. The bacon was burnt, the dressing to scant and I should have
poached two eggs each--but it was still delightful.
I need to work on my picture taking skills! I promise, it tasted better than it looks.
I'm drinking a "Natural Brew" ginger ale. (Oh! The sugar!! oh, the sugar.) As I dance around my kitchen at 10 o'clock on a Thursday night, it's perfect.
Now, a pound and a half of country sage bulk pork sausage is screaming from the bacon pan. It hisses and pops and sounds, well, delightful! The smell is sweet, like muffins or pancakes, not meat. It will go into an old glass cashew butter jar and I'll eat it cold or room temperature over the next few days, at work and in seminar. When the munchies say, "granola bar!" I'll say, "sausage!" and everything will be okay.
I let the leeks go too long. I became impatient and turned up the heat. Instead of melting into soft, translucent slivers they are mostly crispy and brown, like French Onions on green bean casserole, after they've sat for an hour or so and lost a little crunch. I melted goatzarella into the mix. Its salty stringyness hold the overcooked leeks in a coherent lump. I think I may put poached eggs on this, too, and eat it for lunch?
I am so lucky to be able to eat what I can, to be able to cook what I can, to be able to spend time how I do.
The frisee lettuce with warm bacon vinagrette and the leeks with mozarella cheese were both inspired by Shauna at glutenfreegirl She--her taste, her writing, her recipes and her joie de vivre--is a constant source of inspiration!
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
The Whole Pie Plate
What you can see: bell peppers from the farmer's market, sauted in olive oil; California avocados x2; scallions; cilantro and spring onions from Joel's garden
What you can't see: one pound of ground elk, browned and seasoned with cumin, paprika, salt, pepper and cayenne; the tub of salsa we didn't need to tap in to; the amazing Portland springtime sun; me and a friend on the front lawn eating meat and vegetables.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Farm Bill
My swell friend Aaron sent me a link to this NY Times article. The article offers interesting insight as to why junk food is cheap food: most of it is wheat, corn and soy--three of the five commodities (add rice and cotton) that 92% of the 2002 Farm Bill spends $25 billion a year subsidizing.
Wheat, corn and soy! Two of the most common allergies recognized by the FDA, and soy, which has a super sketchy history with the government and which, well, messes people up.
The article cites a study revealing that one can buy 1,200 calories of cookies or chips for $1, but only 250 calories of carrots.
Dang.
No wonder people can't afford to eat well.... and no wonder farmers can't afford to farm :(
what are we going to do about it?
Farm Bill expires in 2008.
Wheat, corn and soy! Two of the most common allergies recognized by the FDA, and soy, which has a super sketchy history with the government and which, well, messes people up.
The article cites a study revealing that one can buy 1,200 calories of cookies or chips for $1, but only 250 calories of carrots.
Dang.
No wonder people can't afford to eat well.... and no wonder farmers can't afford to farm :(
what are we going to do about it?
Farm Bill expires in 2008.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
To Market, To Market or, My Laughing Place
Ha Ha Ha Ha
Ho Ho Ho
Boy are we in luck (yahoo).
We're visiting the laughing place
Yuk Yuk Yuk
Hoo Hoo Hoo.
The Portland Farmer's Market opened on Saturday, April 7th. I'd had that date on my calendar since the market closed last December. Pyramids of lettuce (five different kinds), piles of carrots, mounds of onions. Artichokes, asparagus, leeks, radishes, herbs; wild gathered mushrooms, fresh caught salmon, 100% grass fed beef--and buffalo, elk, venison and boar as steaks, patties, ground or tasty sausages; berries by the flat as the days get longer; apples by the barrel when the cool air comes again. Cartons of eggs from pasture raised chickens; blocks of yellow butter from cows feeding on growing grass; goat cheese (oh, the goat cheese) and sheep cheese and jellies and jams. Row upon row of leafy greens which morph color, shape and heft as the seasons change. This is my happy place.
I didn't make it to the market on April 7th. I woke up to heavy rain on the roof on the first Saturday in months without an early alarm to drag me out of bed....and promptly rolled over for more sleep. (It was glorious; sometimes you need to feed the soul like that.) Next weekend, I'd told myself. But, the next weekend was a seminar weekend, spent indoors in cramped chairs learning wonderful and amazing things. I didn't make it to the market.
Today, though: Armed with reusable bags, pockets of cash, and cappuccinos in our tummies, my friend Joel and I went to the market.
The bok choy was so brilliantly green, it glowed in the daylight (like Nickelodeon gak a la 1995). Leeks and rhubarb covered tables or stood in baskets next to mountains of butter lettuce. Lettuce. Not chard, not kale: lettuce. Sweet, tender, verdant lettuce, so new it almost melts on the tongue. We bought a bunch. A bunch of bunches. Then we went home and made a salad.
Right now, most of the market stands are selling plants. Lettuce starts, cilantro starts, tomato starts. Plants I would take home and kill and feel terrible about. Soon, though, they'll be selling vegetables. More vegetables than I will know what to do with. I can't wait!
Ho Ho Ho
Boy are we in luck (yahoo).
We're visiting the laughing place
Yuk Yuk Yuk
Hoo Hoo Hoo.
The Portland Farmer's Market opened on Saturday, April 7th. I'd had that date on my calendar since the market closed last December. Pyramids of lettuce (five different kinds), piles of carrots, mounds of onions. Artichokes, asparagus, leeks, radishes, herbs; wild gathered mushrooms, fresh caught salmon, 100% grass fed beef--and buffalo, elk, venison and boar as steaks, patties, ground or tasty sausages; berries by the flat as the days get longer; apples by the barrel when the cool air comes again. Cartons of eggs from pasture raised chickens; blocks of yellow butter from cows feeding on growing grass; goat cheese (oh, the goat cheese) and sheep cheese and jellies and jams. Row upon row of leafy greens which morph color, shape and heft as the seasons change. This is my happy place.
I didn't make it to the market on April 7th. I woke up to heavy rain on the roof on the first Saturday in months without an early alarm to drag me out of bed....and promptly rolled over for more sleep. (It was glorious; sometimes you need to feed the soul like that.) Next weekend, I'd told myself. But, the next weekend was a seminar weekend, spent indoors in cramped chairs learning wonderful and amazing things. I didn't make it to the market.
Today, though: Armed with reusable bags, pockets of cash, and cappuccinos in our tummies, my friend Joel and I went to the market.
The bok choy was so brilliantly green, it glowed in the daylight (like Nickelodeon gak a la 1995). Leeks and rhubarb covered tables or stood in baskets next to mountains of butter lettuce. Lettuce. Not chard, not kale: lettuce. Sweet, tender, verdant lettuce, so new it almost melts on the tongue. We bought a bunch. A bunch of bunches. Then we went home and made a salad.
Spring Salad, the First of the Year
Respect the lettuce... go easy on the dressing!
Respect the lettuce... go easy on the dressing!
Butter lettuce, dandelion greens, baby spinach
Spring onions, pulled from Joel's garden, thinly sliced
A small handful of cilantro, freshly cut, coarsely chopped
Four Pasture-Raised, Farm-fresh eggs, hardboiled softly, broken into pieces
Fraga Farm's Farmhouse cheese, crumbled
Fresh olive oil
Touch of balsamic vinegar
Salt
Pepper
Combine in one large wooden bowl. Dress lightly. Very lightly.
Add two forks.
Indulge.
Spring onions, pulled from Joel's garden, thinly sliced
A small handful of cilantro, freshly cut, coarsely chopped
Four Pasture-Raised, Farm-fresh eggs, hardboiled softly, broken into pieces
Fraga Farm's Farmhouse cheese, crumbled
Fresh olive oil
Touch of balsamic vinegar
Salt
Pepper
Combine in one large wooden bowl. Dress lightly. Very lightly.
Add two forks.
Indulge.
Right now, most of the market stands are selling plants. Lettuce starts, cilantro starts, tomato starts. Plants I would take home and kill and feel terrible about. Soon, though, they'll be selling vegetables. More vegetables than I will know what to do with. I can't wait!
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Egg-cellent
Some truths about me:
I'm addicted to this blog.
I eat two eggs for breakfast at least 5 times per week.
My egg this morning, though cold and eaten at my desk at work, was the best I've ever tasted.
Read Shauna's blog here for more. I skipped the parts about sliding the egg from a saucer into a pan, and pouring melted butter on top of the cooked eggy goodness. I used two eggs, instead of one, and I flipped mine before I pulled them off the heat. Still, between Shauna's delightful description and Fernand Point's perfectionist inspiration, my breakfast achieved greatness.
I'm addicted to this blog.
I eat two eggs for breakfast at least 5 times per week.
My egg this morning, though cold and eaten at my desk at work, was the best I've ever tasted.
Read Shauna's blog here for more. I skipped the parts about sliding the egg from a saucer into a pan, and pouring melted butter on top of the cooked eggy goodness. I used two eggs, instead of one, and I flipped mine before I pulled them off the heat. Still, between Shauna's delightful description and Fernand Point's perfectionist inspiration, my breakfast achieved greatness.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Pasta AK-Style or, Chicken a Zillion Ways
Hooray for Spring, for asparagus, farmer's markets, baseball and Spring kickball!
I'm on the best kickball team EVER
"What's the difference between a chicken and a naturopath?"
"One 'bocks' the other 'quacks'"
(Now, we all know that's not true. What is true, though, is that for the first year of me showing an interest in natural medicine, my mom made wings with her arms and quacked at me every time the subject came up.)
Chicken is one of the easiest, most affordable meats to find free ranging and organic. As long as you're not requiring boneless skinless breasts ($6.99/lb), these meats come cheap and easy. A whole organic bird--whether intact or in parts--runs between $1.69-$2.99/lb. Bone in, skin-on legs and thighs run about the same. Now that is some affordable protein.
I get tired of eating hunks of meat all the time. This is when it's chicken to the rescue. Boiled in some salty water, chicken parts become moist meaty bits ready to be disguised 1000 ways.
My favorite way of the day?
(Some of my mentors warn against eating chicken. They cite that fowl contains high amounts of adrenal hormones from the stressful lives the fowl lead. They will concede that free range chicken is better, but have gone so far as to say that we--women especially--should avoid the birds all together. I haven't researched these doctors' claims. When I eat conventional chicken, my pulse races. I don't seem to have this problem with free range/organic chicks. I figure, if I'm off of wheat, dairy, sugar and soy... my body can probably handle the bird.)
I'm on the best kickball team EVER"What's the difference between a chicken and a naturopath?"
"One 'bocks' the other 'quacks'"
(Now, we all know that's not true. What is true, though, is that for the first year of me showing an interest in natural medicine, my mom made wings with her arms and quacked at me every time the subject came up.)
Chicken is one of the easiest, most affordable meats to find free ranging and organic. As long as you're not requiring boneless skinless breasts ($6.99/lb), these meats come cheap and easy. A whole organic bird--whether intact or in parts--runs between $1.69-$2.99/lb. Bone in, skin-on legs and thighs run about the same. Now that is some affordable protein.
I get tired of eating hunks of meat all the time. This is when it's chicken to the rescue. Boiled in some salty water, chicken parts become moist meaty bits ready to be disguised 1000 ways.
My favorite way of the day?
Quiona Pasta with Chicken and Fresh Arugula Pasta
It's really so much easier than all the steps below make it seem.
Especially so if you're in the habit, as I am, of cooking up
chicken in batches for easy access all week long.
Poached Chicken (kinda)
Desired amount of chicken pieces and parts
I'll poach between 1.5-2lbs at a time, and use it a gazillion ways.
Breasts can go in bone-in, or can be peeled off the bone,
then bones and breasts can be added separately
Salted water
Put chicken pieces in a saucepan, and cover with water. My kitchen resources have been severely limited as of late, so I have been poaching whole birds (as broken pieces and parts) in frying pans. It's a little bit pathetic, but it gets the job done. I usually can't add enough water to cover the meat, but I do the best I can and flip the pieces as I go. Crank up the heat. Let it rip. Allow the water to boil rapidly and your chicken will transform from pinky sticky to white (or dark) and tender. The pieces are ready when the bones slip right out. Depending on time and how I'm feeling, I'll remove the meat, then return broken bones, skin (organic meat=no hormones or pesticides in the fat; eat it up!) and joint tissue to the pan to simmer. This water, poured into jars and stuck in the fridge, makes a tasty broth for breakfast egg-drop soup, or for steaming veggies, cooking grains...
Fresh Arugula Pesto
bunch of arugula, washed and torn
pine nuts (about 1/3 cup?), toasted until their warm smell permeates the kitchen
the deli near my work makes this pesto with hazlenuts,
which is delicious. Walnuts could work too. I had pine nuts
in the freezer, so I went wtih it.
2-5 cloves of garlic
olive oil
salt
pepper
lemon juice (optional)
Toss 1/3 of the arugula into the bowl of your food processor. I work in batches, so that the final product has a chunkier, more interesting consistency than uniform paste. Add as much garlic as your heart desires. Drizzle in a bit--one or two teaspoons--of olive oil. Pulse away. Add most of the nuts and another third of the arugula. Add more olive oil if the mixture seems dry; I prefer a less oily pesto and might use a tablespoon of oil for the whole production. Salt, pepper, pulse, pulse, pulse. I taste here, and add more salt or pepper, garlic, lemon juice...whatever it screams like it needs. If I'd had romano (sheep's milk) cheese in the house, I'd have added 1/2-3/4 of a cup of that, now. Pulse again, perhaps, then add the last of the arugula and nuts and blend to desired consistency. Store in a glass jar in the fridge.
Quinoa Pasta
this stuff is tasty. Prepare according to the directions on the box.
Put it all together
This is where my little secret comes in: chop up your chicken well. Chop it up into teeny tiny bits, running the knife one way and then the other, until the meat is more like chicken rice than anything else. These chickeny bits can be thrown into virtually anything--soups, salads, stews, scrambles, dips, pasta--without adding more than a protein boost.
Blend chicken with pesto, and pesto with pasta. Finally, a "pasta" dish that doesn't leave me feeling overstuffed and bloated.
It's really so much easier than all the steps below make it seem.
Especially so if you're in the habit, as I am, of cooking up
chicken in batches for easy access all week long.
Poached Chicken (kinda)
Desired amount of chicken pieces and parts
I'll poach between 1.5-2lbs at a time, and use it a gazillion ways.
Breasts can go in bone-in, or can be peeled off the bone,
then bones and breasts can be added separately
Salted water
Put chicken pieces in a saucepan, and cover with water. My kitchen resources have been severely limited as of late, so I have been poaching whole birds (as broken pieces and parts) in frying pans. It's a little bit pathetic, but it gets the job done. I usually can't add enough water to cover the meat, but I do the best I can and flip the pieces as I go. Crank up the heat. Let it rip. Allow the water to boil rapidly and your chicken will transform from pinky sticky to white (or dark) and tender. The pieces are ready when the bones slip right out. Depending on time and how I'm feeling, I'll remove the meat, then return broken bones, skin (organic meat=no hormones or pesticides in the fat; eat it up!) and joint tissue to the pan to simmer. This water, poured into jars and stuck in the fridge, makes a tasty broth for breakfast egg-drop soup, or for steaming veggies, cooking grains...
Fresh Arugula Pesto
bunch of arugula, washed and torn
pine nuts (about 1/3 cup?), toasted until their warm smell permeates the kitchen
the deli near my work makes this pesto with hazlenuts,
which is delicious. Walnuts could work too. I had pine nuts
in the freezer, so I went wtih it.
2-5 cloves of garlic
olive oil
salt
pepper
lemon juice (optional)
Toss 1/3 of the arugula into the bowl of your food processor. I work in batches, so that the final product has a chunkier, more interesting consistency than uniform paste. Add as much garlic as your heart desires. Drizzle in a bit--one or two teaspoons--of olive oil. Pulse away. Add most of the nuts and another third of the arugula. Add more olive oil if the mixture seems dry; I prefer a less oily pesto and might use a tablespoon of oil for the whole production. Salt, pepper, pulse, pulse, pulse. I taste here, and add more salt or pepper, garlic, lemon juice...whatever it screams like it needs. If I'd had romano (sheep's milk) cheese in the house, I'd have added 1/2-3/4 of a cup of that, now. Pulse again, perhaps, then add the last of the arugula and nuts and blend to desired consistency. Store in a glass jar in the fridge.
Quinoa Pasta
this stuff is tasty. Prepare according to the directions on the box.
Put it all together
This is where my little secret comes in: chop up your chicken well. Chop it up into teeny tiny bits, running the knife one way and then the other, until the meat is more like chicken rice than anything else. These chickeny bits can be thrown into virtually anything--soups, salads, stews, scrambles, dips, pasta--without adding more than a protein boost.
Blend chicken with pesto, and pesto with pasta. Finally, a "pasta" dish that doesn't leave me feeling overstuffed and bloated.
(Some of my mentors warn against eating chicken. They cite that fowl contains high amounts of adrenal hormones from the stressful lives the fowl lead. They will concede that free range chicken is better, but have gone so far as to say that we--women especially--should avoid the birds all together. I haven't researched these doctors' claims. When I eat conventional chicken, my pulse races. I don't seem to have this problem with free range/organic chicks. I figure, if I'm off of wheat, dairy, sugar and soy... my body can probably handle the bird.)
Saturday, April 7, 2007
Rabbit Ears
There are no rules on holidays.
That's what "Dr. T", my Applied Kinesiology teacher, says.
And so, this weekend, I eat Cadbury Creme Eggs and marshmallow bunnies. Flipping through the colored drugstore ads from the newspaper, my housemate and I reminisce about Easter baskets gone-by: speckled pastel malt balls; brightly colored, egg-shaped gum; melty, creamy foil-covered chocolate medallions with peanut butter or crispy rice; marshmallow peeps: fresh, or left out to stale a few days; tall skinny corn-syrup bunnies that taste like circus peanuts candies; jelly beans galore; one tall, hollow, waxy chocolate rabbit with sugar eyes and a little ribbon bow tie.
Oh my goodness, the sugar.
I understand and love the Christian meaning of Easter. It and its traditions have been with me since I was a baby. This weekend, all of my family will be together in Southern California. After church, they will eat honey baked ham, asparagus, white rolls, jello jigglers, molded into round eggs. They'll eat some green salad, some fruit salad, perhaps some lamb and I really can't remember what else. This is my second Easter without them. It's a little bit sad!
Last year, we had an AK-friendly brunch: Italian frittata, vanilla bean fruit salad, wheat-free pancakes, bacon, mimosas. For one morning, five housemates and one friend sat over a lazy breakfast, eating well and loving eachother. I love how food brings people together.
That's what "Dr. T", my Applied Kinesiology teacher, says.
And so, this weekend, I eat Cadbury Creme Eggs and marshmallow bunnies. Flipping through the colored drugstore ads from the newspaper, my housemate and I reminisce about Easter baskets gone-by: speckled pastel malt balls; brightly colored, egg-shaped gum; melty, creamy foil-covered chocolate medallions with peanut butter or crispy rice; marshmallow peeps: fresh, or left out to stale a few days; tall skinny corn-syrup bunnies that taste like circus peanuts candies; jelly beans galore; one tall, hollow, waxy chocolate rabbit with sugar eyes and a little ribbon bow tie.
Oh my goodness, the sugar.
I understand and love the Christian meaning of Easter. It and its traditions have been with me since I was a baby. This weekend, all of my family will be together in Southern California. After church, they will eat honey baked ham, asparagus, white rolls, jello jigglers, molded into round eggs. They'll eat some green salad, some fruit salad, perhaps some lamb and I really can't remember what else. This is my second Easter without them. It's a little bit sad!
Last year, we had an AK-friendly brunch: Italian frittata, vanilla bean fruit salad, wheat-free pancakes, bacon, mimosas. For one morning, five housemates and one friend sat over a lazy breakfast, eating well and loving eachother. I love how food brings people together.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Girlfriends
The three days I spent in Ithaca this weekend might as well have been a week in the Caribbean. What a vacation! Just me and my besty and nothing to do.
We shopped at the local co-op.
We cooked sausages, scallops, kale, barbecue chicken, zucchini, eggs, yum.
We hiked to waterfalls, flowing heavily with snowmelt.
We napped. I napped. A lot.
We danced in college town, toured Cornell's old and beautiful libraries, gazed at art installations and out panoramic windows over farmland expanses.
We sat on the couch, for a full hour, watching the Food Network (oh, Alton Brown) and "What Not to Wear", consuming two entire pints of Good Karma Organic Rice Divine frozen dessert. Carrot Cake used to be my favorite, but this weekend I discovered Mud Pie. It's not sugar free, and it probably contains some soy, but it's mostly rice. Rice milk, rice syrup, rice flour, rice solids. And, it's delicious. From start to finish. In one sitting. On the couch next to my best friend, with two pints between us and cable (cable TV?? It's been a while) in front of us... We're disgusting. It was wonderful.
As much as I love food, I can't think of anything more nourishing than spending time with someone who knows me so well, and loves me so much, as a dear old friend.
We shopped at the local co-op.
We cooked sausages, scallops, kale, barbecue chicken, zucchini, eggs, yum.
We hiked to waterfalls, flowing heavily with snowmelt.
We napped. I napped. A lot.
We danced in college town, toured Cornell's old and beautiful libraries, gazed at art installations and out panoramic windows over farmland expanses.
We sat on the couch, for a full hour, watching the Food Network (oh, Alton Brown) and "What Not to Wear", consuming two entire pints of Good Karma Organic Rice Divine frozen dessert. Carrot Cake used to be my favorite, but this weekend I discovered Mud Pie. It's not sugar free, and it probably contains some soy, but it's mostly rice. Rice milk, rice syrup, rice flour, rice solids. And, it's delicious. From start to finish. In one sitting. On the couch next to my best friend, with two pints between us and cable (cable TV?? It's been a while) in front of us... We're disgusting. It was wonderful.
As much as I love food, I can't think of anything more nourishing than spending time with someone who knows me so well, and loves me so much, as a dear old friend.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Nut Busters
It didn't occur to me that a little tupperware of cashew butter might be considered with the "liquids, gels and aerosols" that the TSA restricts to 3oz. Oops.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Plane Food
'Dre and me in Portland last summer I'm taking a red-eye to New York tonight. (My Buffalo-hailing coworker says I shouldn't call it New York, because it's actually Ithaca I'm visiting.) My college roommate and dear, dear friend Andrea is working on her Master's degree at Cornell. I am so excited to see her!
I took my lunch at New Season's Market today. That's a pretty typical Thursday for me. I peruse the weekly sales between patients and phone calls on Wednesday, when they're announced online, and then I go take advantage on Thursday.
Grocery shopping is my guilty pleasure, more often done for pleasure than out of necessity. Cooking for one means that meal planning can be kept to a minimum. I go straight to the butcher counter and stock up on the specials. One for now, one for the freezer. Then I zig zag around and around the produce aisle. If I'm feeling naughty, I'll stop in at the freezer section for some coconut bliss. If I'm feeling indulgent, I'll pick out a goat or sheep cheese from their well stocked (and well labeled, with little animal graphics) cheese counter. Today, though, I was on a mission: plane food.
Avoiding food sensitivities is one thing in one's own kitchen. It's a WHOLE different story on the road, especially in airports where the choice is frequently between burgers, bagels, fruit smoothies and sketchy-looking salads.
I bought two apples, two packs of local jerky, almonds ("never eat those, they'll give you an ICV"), a pound of brussel sprouts, a pound of spicy Italian bulk sausage and a package of--gulp--wheat-free, dairy-free (sugar-filled) Newman's O's. The sausage and the brussels will get cooked up after work and crammed into the glass jars I hoard in the cupboard for transporting hot foods. I have about twelve hours of travel ahead of me, each way. If I can just resist the call of the Snickers bar, I'll be okay!
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Fast Lane
During the 15 months I've lived in Portland, I've forgotten how fast 75 miles per hour is. Fast. Crawling along in the slow lane, holding the pedal at a steady 78 and the wheel tightly between two hands, cars whiz by on my left. Five, six, seven lane freeways. 75, 85, 95 miles per hour.
Dang. Welcome (back) to L.A.
I spent the weekend in Southern California with my little sister. She is so intelligent, beautiful, and talented. I wish she'd move to Portland! On Saturday night, I went to see her perform in A Chorus Line.
photo courtesy of? Thanks.
(that's my sister on the far right)
It's a 9-show run, and her first paid performance. When she, as Diana, said " I get this feeling inside because I remember when I used to stand outside of that stage door and watch all these girls come out of there, with their eyelashes and their make-up and I'd think: "God I'll never be that old. I'll never be that old. I'll never be old enough to come out of that stage door", I got this feeling inside because I remember when she, as my little sister Christa, used to stand outside of that stage door. This time, though, it was me standing outside the stage door. Out she came in eyelashes and makeup and I thought, "when did she get so grown up?"
It was a hectic, L.A. weekend. Dinner with the parents, breakfast with the grandparents, a couple hours with the best friend, a show with the brother and his girlfriend. In the inbetweens, though, I got to be with my sister. I wish I could have stayed longer. She's been visiting me places since my first year in college. This was the first time I visited her. Crashed on her floor. Wore all her clothes. Ate all her food.
Ate her food.
Next to watching her perform and maybe tied with taking a Jazz I dance class (It was the first dance class I've taken since I was three years old. I didn't fall on my face. I even got a nod of approval from my little sister. I think it was for her what taking her to see an AK doctor is to me: a chance to share our obsessions, a little taste of our lives, with the other. I'm sore today... but it was so worth it.), the best part was the cooking. And the eating.
Christa hasn't always been able to eat. Sure, she's always gotten food down... but she's never relished in it like I do. The worst was on a vacation in Europe a few summers ago. The markets! The restaurants! We sleuthed out the most talked-about eateries. Grandpa spoiled us with fancy, fresh, French food day after day. One crisp French Riviera morning, we walked to a paneria for breakfast. It was written up in all of my guides, and I was dying to taste all the hype. We walked in, mom, dad, grandma, grandpa, me, Christa. Baguettes, scones, long loaves and round loaves and biscuits. Babs (er, Christa), turned on her heels, shimmied out of the building and promptly threw up the contents of her already empty stomach. It went on like that.
Her blood sugar fluctuated wildly. She was shaky and pale and fainty.
Just a few bites of whatever we were eating would fill her up to nausea.
"Babs! Try this! It's delicious!" She'd take one look and turn green. It sucked.
About a year ago, Christa came to visit me in Portland. She had an appointment with one of the naturopaths at my clinic, who diagnosed her food sensitivities with an EAV machine. She eliminated wheat and refined sugar from her diet. Not two weeks later, she was a whole new girl.
Over the last year, she's further refined her diet. She abandoned her vegetarianism in favor of joint-protecting, blood sugar-regulating, high protein meals. She gave up dairy and soy. She started eating organic butter, olive oil and runny eggs.
The change is unmistakable.
My pretty sister. Eating. And my mom, loving up the sight.
This weekend, for the first time since we were kids, we really enjoyed food together. We spent half of her month's grocery stipend at Henry's Market, and then cooked our hearts out.
Christa lives an L.A. fast lane life. She takes 24+ credits each term, dancing for hours and hours every day, cramming in homework when she's not tapping or leaping or singing. There isn't much time for preparing food. Besides, she never really learned how to prepare food. She didn't want to eat it--it made her feel sick--during her high school years, when mom's ample pantries and her flexible schedule would have let her practice.
Little is more frustrating than knowing what you should be eating, what you want to be eating... but feeling like you can't do it because you don't know how.
This weekend, though, we cooked. We made Chicken Tortilla Soup in the crockpot, and cranberry muffins entirely out of flax seed. We rediscovered sloppy joes. We made pizza, on Namaste's rice crust (we ate a whole, huge pizza... and then froze single serving-sized crusts for easy access). We discovered that she doesn't mind sheep cheese if it's manchego or reggiano, and that Alta Dena makes a raw milk goat's cheddar she can enjoy with turkey slices from the caf. We made corn tortillas from scratch, and ate them as tacos the next day. We had so much fun.
None of our meals took more than a few minutes to prep or to clean. None of them required more than a couple of ingredients. None of them need any skill she doesn't have. They all freeze in single-servings, have adequate protein, and are completely void of wheat, dairy, sugar and soy.
Dang. Welcome (back) to L.A.
I spent the weekend in Southern California with my little sister. She is so intelligent, beautiful, and talented. I wish she'd move to Portland! On Saturday night, I went to see her perform in A Chorus Line.
photo courtesy of? Thanks.(that's my sister on the far right)
It's a 9-show run, and her first paid performance. When she, as Diana, said " I get this feeling inside because I remember when I used to stand outside of that stage door and watch all these girls come out of there, with their eyelashes and their make-up and I'd think: "God I'll never be that old. I'll never be that old. I'll never be old enough to come out of that stage door", I got this feeling inside because I remember when she, as my little sister Christa, used to stand outside of that stage door. This time, though, it was me standing outside the stage door. Out she came in eyelashes and makeup and I thought, "when did she get so grown up?"
It was a hectic, L.A. weekend. Dinner with the parents, breakfast with the grandparents, a couple hours with the best friend, a show with the brother and his girlfriend. In the inbetweens, though, I got to be with my sister. I wish I could have stayed longer. She's been visiting me places since my first year in college. This was the first time I visited her. Crashed on her floor. Wore all her clothes. Ate all her food.
Ate her food.
Next to watching her perform and maybe tied with taking a Jazz I dance class (It was the first dance class I've taken since I was three years old. I didn't fall on my face. I even got a nod of approval from my little sister. I think it was for her what taking her to see an AK doctor is to me: a chance to share our obsessions, a little taste of our lives, with the other. I'm sore today... but it was so worth it.), the best part was the cooking. And the eating.
Christa hasn't always been able to eat. Sure, she's always gotten food down... but she's never relished in it like I do. The worst was on a vacation in Europe a few summers ago. The markets! The restaurants! We sleuthed out the most talked-about eateries. Grandpa spoiled us with fancy, fresh, French food day after day. One crisp French Riviera morning, we walked to a paneria for breakfast. It was written up in all of my guides, and I was dying to taste all the hype. We walked in, mom, dad, grandma, grandpa, me, Christa. Baguettes, scones, long loaves and round loaves and biscuits. Babs (er, Christa), turned on her heels, shimmied out of the building and promptly threw up the contents of her already empty stomach. It went on like that.
Her blood sugar fluctuated wildly. She was shaky and pale and fainty.
Just a few bites of whatever we were eating would fill her up to nausea.
"Babs! Try this! It's delicious!" She'd take one look and turn green. It sucked.
About a year ago, Christa came to visit me in Portland. She had an appointment with one of the naturopaths at my clinic, who diagnosed her food sensitivities with an EAV machine. She eliminated wheat and refined sugar from her diet. Not two weeks later, she was a whole new girl.
Over the last year, she's further refined her diet. She abandoned her vegetarianism in favor of joint-protecting, blood sugar-regulating, high protein meals. She gave up dairy and soy. She started eating organic butter, olive oil and runny eggs.
The change is unmistakable.
My pretty sister. Eating. And my mom, loving up the sight.This weekend, for the first time since we were kids, we really enjoyed food together. We spent half of her month's grocery stipend at Henry's Market, and then cooked our hearts out.
Christa lives an L.A. fast lane life. She takes 24+ credits each term, dancing for hours and hours every day, cramming in homework when she's not tapping or leaping or singing. There isn't much time for preparing food. Besides, she never really learned how to prepare food. She didn't want to eat it--it made her feel sick--during her high school years, when mom's ample pantries and her flexible schedule would have let her practice.
Little is more frustrating than knowing what you should be eating, what you want to be eating... but feeling like you can't do it because you don't know how.
This weekend, though, we cooked. We made Chicken Tortilla Soup in the crockpot, and cranberry muffins entirely out of flax seed. We rediscovered sloppy joes. We made pizza, on Namaste's rice crust (we ate a whole, huge pizza... and then froze single serving-sized crusts for easy access). We discovered that she doesn't mind sheep cheese if it's manchego or reggiano, and that Alta Dena makes a raw milk goat's cheddar she can enjoy with turkey slices from the caf. We made corn tortillas from scratch, and ate them as tacos the next day. We had so much fun.
None of our meals took more than a few minutes to prep or to clean. None of them required more than a couple of ingredients. None of them need any skill she doesn't have. They all freeze in single-servings, have adequate protein, and are completely void of wheat, dairy, sugar and soy.
Slow Cooker Chicken Tortilla Soup
I rarely follow recipes these days. Unless I'm baking, I ad-lib according to
I rarely follow recipes these days. Unless I'm baking, I ad-lib according to
what's in my fridge and who's eating. When Babs and I made this,
we went light on the spices; for now, she likes her food bland.
It's awkward for me to name quantities for most anything other than baking.
Please, improvise at will!
1 to 2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken breasts, thighs, whatevers
1 quartish chicken broth
5 cloves garlic, chopped
4-5 carrots?
One small can of hot or mild green chiles
and/or 1/4cup black olives, diced
and/or the remainder of whatever open salsa you have in the fridge
1 14.5-oz can fire roasted diced tomatoes (I like Muir Glen)
1 15-oz can beans (I use red, usually)
1/4 to 1/2 cup corn (or rice) flour mixed into a slurry with a half cup of hot chicken broth to make a slurry
A generous pinch of salt
A glug of apple cider--or other--vinegar
Spices.
(as in...cumin, chili powder, ground pepper and paprika, maybe?
or a couple of table spoons of your favorite taco seasoning.)
1 -2 teaspoons agave syrup or honey, if desired
It's awkward for me to name quantities for most anything other than baking.
Please, improvise at will!
1 to 2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken breasts, thighs, whatevers
1 quartish chicken broth
5 cloves garlic, chopped
4-5 carrots?
One small can of hot or mild green chiles
and/or 1/4cup black olives, diced
and/or the remainder of whatever open salsa you have in the fridge
1 14.5-oz can fire roasted diced tomatoes (I like Muir Glen)
1 15-oz can beans (I use red, usually)
1/4 to 1/2 cup corn (or rice) flour mixed into a slurry with a half cup of hot chicken broth to make a slurry
A generous pinch of salt
A glug of apple cider--or other--vinegar
Spices.
(as in...cumin, chili powder, ground pepper and paprika, maybe?
or a couple of table spoons of your favorite taco seasoning.)
1 -2 teaspoons agave syrup or honey, if desired
Put everything in your slow cooker. I always put the chicken in first, then half the broth... the tomatoes, beans, the rest of the broth. Sometimes one quart of liquid isn't enough. Just add more.Then I stir in the slurry and add the spices. Don't taste just now, though. You can adjust the seasoning later.
Cook on high or low, depending on your time line.
Four or six or eight or twelve hours later, fish out your chicken with a slotted spoon. It should melt into shreds as you play with it between two forks. Add it back into the pot. Taste and adjust your seasonings. Bring the soup to a simmer... then serve hot.
Serve as is, or with avocado, manchego cheese, cilantro, crisped corn tortillas....
Friday, March 23, 2007
Mayo
The other night, I stayed up past my bedtime.
It was almost 11pm when I found myself whirring together golden egg yolks with lemon juice, salt and cracked pepper, and slowly drizzling pungent, new, greeny-yellow organic olive oil into the bowl of my food processor. Quarter-sized, gluten-free shrimp cakes sizzled on the stove behind me, first defrosting--then warming and crisping.
The cakes were my muse that night. They were on sale at New Season's for $2.99/box. I bought two boxes, then went back for four more. "Serve with aoili" read the back of the Mediterranean-Shrimp-with-Garlic-and-Oregano box. I had to have it.
I poured my oil straight from its new green glass bottle. Until the slurpy squishy sounds of emulsification sang from the plastic container, I worried I'd poured too much. Or too fast. But, as always, the mixture thickened up. It stopped spattering and started squishing, sucking, under the spinning blades.
Different housemates came home at different stages of this easy process. They knit their eyebrows together and shook their heads a little. I know I'm a little strange. Not many 22 year olds make homemade mayonnaise on a whim. They don't know what they're missing out on.
I ate my shrimp cakes. All eight of them. With lots of mayo. (It always used to gross me out when people dipped things in mayonnaise. Kinda like when people dip things in Ranch. I'm not talking turkey slices or baby carrots, but french fries, pizza, corn dogs--you name it. I think I'd probably have grossed myself out, if I'd had to watch me and my shrimp.) I didn't have any garlic in the house (!!!), so I was going to fake the aioli with garlic powder... but I opted out and enjoyed myself immensely anyway.
It was almost 11pm when I found myself whirring together golden egg yolks with lemon juice, salt and cracked pepper, and slowly drizzling pungent, new, greeny-yellow organic olive oil into the bowl of my food processor. Quarter-sized, gluten-free shrimp cakes sizzled on the stove behind me, first defrosting--then warming and crisping.
The cakes were my muse that night. They were on sale at New Season's for $2.99/box. I bought two boxes, then went back for four more. "Serve with aoili" read the back of the Mediterranean-Shrimp-with-Garlic-and-Oregano box. I had to have it.
I poured my oil straight from its new green glass bottle. Until the slurpy squishy sounds of emulsification sang from the plastic container, I worried I'd poured too much. Or too fast. But, as always, the mixture thickened up. It stopped spattering and started squishing, sucking, under the spinning blades.
Different housemates came home at different stages of this easy process. They knit their eyebrows together and shook their heads a little. I know I'm a little strange. Not many 22 year olds make homemade mayonnaise on a whim. They don't know what they're missing out on.
I ate my shrimp cakes. All eight of them. With lots of mayo. (It always used to gross me out when people dipped things in mayonnaise. Kinda like when people dip things in Ranch. I'm not talking turkey slices or baby carrots, but french fries, pizza, corn dogs--you name it. I think I'd probably have grossed myself out, if I'd had to watch me and my shrimp.) I didn't have any garlic in the house (!!!), so I was going to fake the aioli with garlic powder... but I opted out and enjoyed myself immensely anyway.
Homemade Mayonnaise
I've used different recipes at different times, for more or less the same result. Now (it's what, my third time?) I freestyle it. My mayo went something like this.
Note: Using Extra Virgin Olive Oil results in a mayonnaise that tastes a bit like, well, EVOO. Some sources recommend lighter oils... I don't chance them.
One whole, organic egg
One organic egg yolk
(egg white reserved, to be dropped by fork tines
into boiling broth for breakfast)
a generous pinch of salt
a few grinds of pepper
a splash of vinegar
(white rice? apple cider? I think I used red wine)
and/or a squeeze of lemon
Combine in the food processor, running in the ON position until the yolks are slightly lightened and a little foamy, about 30 seconds. I'm told that blenders and Kitchen Aids work, too, and that hand whisking has the best results. But... I use my beloved Cuisinart.
Slowly (sloooowly) drizzle in, drop by drop
1-2 cups Organic, Cold Press, Extra Virgin Olive Oil.
Keep the motor running, and the oil drizzling. I think I used about a cup and a half of oil for this batch? With enough patience and oil, the mixture should thicken right up.
Try it. You probably won't ever go back to Miracle Whip--or whatever the hydrogenated sandwhich spread of your youth was.
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