Snow gets in your eyes

The organized snowball fight at Malcolm X Park was pretty epic. The abundance of hipsters in attendance inspired me to compose a parody of the Platters classic on my walk home....

They asked me if I threw
Snowballs landing true.
I sheepishly replied,
"I just aimed inside,
But it went quite wide."

They said, "Some day you will find
That jerk who clocked you from behind
When your arm’s on fire.
For now realize
Snow gets in your eyes."

So I packed them, and I fired away --
To think they would hit a thing! --
Thankfully at last, one or two I cast
Finally struck something….

Opponents did deride
My repeated tries
To protect my head.
They aimed from the side,
More snow got in my eyes.

So, yes, though I ducked and weaved constantly, I got hit directly in the face precisely four times. I worried that the last one would lead to a fat lip -- someone was definitely making icier snowballs on the other side of the battle line -- but I am happy to report that did not come to pass. I seem to lack both the killer instinct and the aim to be much of an asset in snowball fights, but it sure was fun. And I sure am sore today, though that may just as easily be a result of my multiple shoveling shifts, hiking, sledding, and snow angel making as from snow combat. Here's my friend Sarah demonstrating proper angel making technique:

After all of that physical activity, I arrived home ravenous, and ready to make something hearty that could cook while I soaked in the bath. As I stripped off my 47 layers of outerwear, the appeal of mashed potatoes was suddenly overwhelming. And, readers, you know I rarely stop at making something as simple as mashed potatoes. A few minutes of rummaging around the kitchen resulted in the following delicious new dish:

Vegetarian Shepherd's Pie
(Definitely not vegan, though!)

Ingredients

• 1/2 cup leeks, chopped
• 1 cup shiitakes, chopped
• 1 cup butternut squash, peeled and diced
• 2 carrots, shredded
• 1-2 cups chickpeas (from a can, or pre-soaked and boiled until soft)
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 4 medium potatoes, peeled and diced
• 2 Tablespoons butter
• 1/4 cup milk
• 1/2 cup vegetable broth
• 1 Tablespoon tomato paste
• handful of fresh herbs, leaves only, minced: parsley, thyme, rosemary

Directions

Preheat oven to 375F.

Saute leeks, shiitakes, butternut, carrots, chickpeas, and garlic in a medium cast iron skillet. Stir regularly.

Meanwhile, bring a medium pot of water to a boil and add potatoes. Boil until potatoes are soft. (20 minutes should do it.) Drain potatoes, then return them to the pot, add butter and milk, and mash with a fork until smooth.

Add herbs, broth, and tomato paste to veggie saute, then top with the mashed potatoes.

Bake until heated through and liquid creeping around the edge is bubbly (about 30 minutes). Viola! You're done!

I took out the remainder of the pan the following day -- yet another snow day!

Bountiful broccoli

I do love broccoli. I couldn't resist picking up a few heads at the farmers' market a couple of weeks ago. It was just gorgeous, so I bought more than I should have for a person who lives alone and eats a diverse diet. Yes, I was downright brassica rich. After making a couple of batches of my favorite broccoli (with garlic, crushed red pepper, raisins, and almonds), and a couple of stirfries, I still had a few heads of the beautiful green veggie in the fridge. So I went to one of my favorite food blogs, Food52, for some inspiration. And inspiration I found.

I made a few adjustments, of course: more garlic, because the original recipe only called for 2 cloves(!), and the addition of a celery root because I had one and also because it turned out that when I measured it I did not actually have quite as much broccoli as I thought. (Must be those midnight elves who sneak in and eat my produce while I sleep... but who, alas, don't seem inclined to do the dishes while they're in my kitchen.) The result was so delicious, I made another big pot of it the following week, when a canceled class left me with a plethora of extra broccoli. It turned out perfectly again.

Since this recipe is too good not to share, I offer you:

Roasted Broccoli and Celery Root Soup
Serves 4-6

Ingredients

• 2 heads broccoli, cut into florets, with stems peeled and cut into bite-sized chunks
• 1 celeriac, peeled, cut into 1-inch chunks
• ¼ cup olive oil
• 4-5 cloves garlic, peeled and smashed
• salt and freshly ground pepper
• 4-6 cups stock (depends on how thick you want your soup)
• ½ cup finely grated Parmesan
• juice from 1 lemon

Directions

Steam broccoli and celeriac til broccoli turns bright green. Drain well, set aside.

Add the olive oil and garlic to the pot, cook over medium heat for 2 mins, then add the broccoli and celeriac, seasoning with salt and pepper.

Cover the pot, turn the heat down as low as it will go, and cook for about an hour, stirring occasionally, until the broccoli is soft enough that it yields when you press it with the back of a wooden spoon (it may brown a little during this process -- this is a good thing).

Add stock and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Simmer the soup for 5 minutes.

Puree half the soup in a blender or food processor. Stir the puree back into the pot.

Stir in the Parmesan and lemon juice to taste. Enjoy!

Don't be a jerk

I've been craving black bean soup like crazy as the temperatures have started dropping to serious winterlike levels, so the other day I started soaking a couple cups of dry black beans. The next day I drained them and started simmering them with a spoonful of ground cumin and ginger (which I had heard helps to reduce the gas these delicious legumes are known to produce) in a fresh batch of water. I drained my softened beans, got out a lime and some more ground cumin, and because I could not for the life of me recall what all else I needed, I called the woman who makes some of the best black bean soup I've had in my life: my mom.

She graciously unearthed the index card, handwritten copy of the recipe that I've been enjoying since middle school, and dictated it to me over the phone. I was surprised at how simple it was: 2 cans of black beans, water, a lime, and Jamaican jerk spice. That's it. Delicious. But I was scandalized. "Jamaican jerk spice?? What about cumin? Cilantro? Chili? At least an onion, right??" Nope. All the flavor comes from the jerk seasoning. What's in that, anyway?

I did just finish a series of FoodPrints lessons teaching 3rd graders to be avid readers of ingredient labels, after all. Yep, it was as I suspected: lots of salt. I could do better than this, I decided. Plus, it was awfully cold outside and I wanted to avoid a trip to the store to purchase my single missing ingredient. I would work with what I had around the kitchen.... The result was delicious (though it will never quite replace my mom's recipe and its plethora of fond memories).

Black Bean Soup (from scratch)
Makes 4-6 servings, depending on how hungry you are

Ingredients

• 2 cups dry black beans, soaked overnight, simmered until soft, then drained
  (you can use 3-4 cans of beans, but they're pricier and less nutritious -- just sayin')*
• 6 cups vegetable stock (make your own!)
• olive oil
• 1 medium onion, peeled and diced
• 2 shallots, peeled and finely diced
• 3-4 garlic cloves, peeled and finely minced
• 1/2 - 1 fresh jalapeno pepper, seeds removed then finely minced
• 1-2 tsp ground cumin
• 1/2 tsp fresh thyme leaves (or 1/4 tsp dried)
• a sprinkle (1/4 tsp?) cayenne
• a sprinkle of ground nutmeg
• a sprinkle of ground cinnamon
• a pinch or two of ground allspice
• 1-2 tsp tamari (or soy sauce, but I swear tamari is better)
• juice from 1 lime (2 TBSP, roughly)
• salt and black pepper, to taste
• plain greek yogurt (optional), for garnish
• fresh cilantro (optional), for garnish
• additional lime wedges, for garnish

Directions

1. Heat a medium pot with a few glugs of olive oil, then stir in onions and cook over low heat until soft, stirring occasionally so things don't stick too much (5-10 minutes).
2. Stir in the shallots, garlic, and jalapeno and cook for another 1-2 minutes.
3. Turn up the heat as you stir in the cumin, thyme, cayenne, nutmeg, cinnamon, allspice, and tamari,
4. When these have sizzled for about a minute, stir in most of the beans (I set aside about 1/2 cup) and all of the broth. Simmer for 10-15 minutes.
5. Remove from heat, puree the soup, then stir in the remaining beans and the lime juice. Taste, then season with salt and pepper if needed.
6. Serve hot with a dollop of yogurt and a sprinkle of cilantro leaves, along with a lime wedge for folks to squeeze in just before eating. I also made some cheddar jalapeno corn muffins because, hey, what is black bean soup without cornbread?

*Check out this previous post for some tips on cooking dry bean.

Cutting the mustard

Readers, please don't think for a moment that I have abandoned you. Tales are forthcoming about community garden workdays and cooking lessons and working with various farmers markets leading up to the start of the season. (Farmers' market season, that is, though tax season is also breathing down my neck.)

Today -- or tonight, rather -- I offer a simple recipe, one which I have been fiddling with for a couple of years now. I recall the evening my friend Vinnie and his partner had me over for dinner those many nights ago, toward the end of which I left with an old issue of Saveur magazine that contained the base recipe for my now much beloved mustard recipe. There are a few standard ingredients -- namely, the ground spices -- and there are some variables: 1) mustard seeds, 2) vinegar, and 3) beer. The variations on this theme are endless.

The original recipe calls for stout, brown mustard seeds, and red wine vinegar. I tried that the first time and it was inarguably delicious. I gave most of it away as Christmas gifts that first winter. Necessity -- i.e., it being too cold out some nights to head out on my bike when I'd sense the first tinglings of a mustard craving -- has led me to try everything from balsamic to apple cider vinegar, and all kinds of mixes in between. I've sometimes snagged a few cups of yellow mustard seeds, and other times the smaller dark seeds, and still other times a mix of the two from dad (who should probably start buying stock in bulk mustard seed, considering his frequenting of the Middle Eastern spice shop since I picked up this mustard making habit). I've experimented with porters, English ales, apricot ales, my own pumpkin ale. Most recently, one of the last bottles of the Tall, Dark, and Belgian made its way into a batch of exceptionally spicy, stone-ground mustard. (The real secret that puts the current batch over the top? Garple.) Slathered on corned beef for a St. Patrick's Day gathering or two this weekend, stirred into horseradish for a sandwich, or mixed into salad dressings, I assure you, this mustard holds its own.

Okay, enough stalling: here's the recipe so you can make your own
Basic Spicy Mustard
Ingredients

• 12-ounce bottle of beer
• 1 1/2 cups whole mustard seed
• 1 cup vinegar
• 1 TBSP salt
• 1 TBSP freshly ground black pepper
• 1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
• 1/4 tsp ground cloves
• 1/4 tsp freshly grated nutmeg
• 1/4 tsp ground allspice

Directions

Combine all ingredients in a glass, plastic, or ceramic mixing bowl (or if you're really careful with the beer pouring, this fits EXACTLY into a glass quart jar -- yeah, I just threw down that challenge).

Cover with a towel or recycled sandwich bag and let the mixture sit on your counter for about 2 days. This allows the flavors to talk to each other and the mustard seeds to soften.

Puree in a food processor, pausing occasionally to scrape down the sides of the bowl. After about 3 minutes, you'll suddenly see the mustard thicken and become creamy. (It's kind of like magic. At least Kenton and I think so.) You're done! And friends and family will be so impressed, while you secretly know all it took were a few simple ingredients and a couple days of patience.

You can smear some on a sandwich right then, but be sure to put the rest into a glass container, or a few smaller containers, and store in the refrigerator. It starts off quite spicy, but it'll mellow after a few weeks. Use it within about 6 months... not that I've had ANY mustard last that long around here....

A kid will eat anything if dipping sauce is involved

At least this was my theory during the recipe planning stage of last Wednesday's cooking class with young kiddos in the anti-obesity program at the neighborhood health clinic. Tell me I am wrong: that a child will not be more likely to eat something if they can dip it into something else. Doesn't matter if it's ranch dressing or barbecue sauce or ketchup or a healthy dressing. The point is the dipping.

So after we collectively washed and chopped broccoli, tomatoes, carrots, onions, avocados, bell peppers, and string beans; once we'd juiced a bag of lemons and whisked olive oil and ground black pepper and torn fresh herbs; following our mincing of garlic, peeling of hard-boiled eggs, and draining of black beans; and subsequent to the rinsing and patting dry of our lettuce leaves that would be the base for our vegetarian wraps; we each dunked our "tortillas de lechuga rellenas y enrolladas" in one of four simple, healthy, just-made dips. Ha! If they only realized that was low-fat Greek yoghurt instead of sour cream. And they were positively guzzling the lemon herb concoction....

 

The vast majority of students came back for seconds, some under the auspices of trying out one of the other (surprisingly healthy, moo ha ha ha) dips. Some came back for thirds! I did feel a little bad when one of the adults told me later that the students had their physical activity after the snack session. Oops. Well, at least it was a light and healthy snack.... that hopefully did not end up regurgitated all over the 3rd floor of the Upper Cardozo Health Clinic.

The low-carb wraps and cut up raw veggies were a hit! I attribute it to the hands-on nature of the class. I consistently find that folks young and old alike (but especially the young) are more willing to try -- and also more likely to enjoy -- food that they've had a hand in preparing. But just as important, I will concede, is the appeal of dipping stuff into a sauce of some sort. (I know plenty of grown-up kids who could be similarly cajoled. Heck, half the reason I ordered chicken wings tonight at Boundary Stone's one-year anniversary celebration was because of the bleu cheese dipping sauce. I am no purist, though I did check first to be sure that the now-wingless chickens were local and free-range. The waitress couldn't tell me the name of the farm, but I only realized that after beer #2. But I digress....)

Should you want some inspiration for some irresistible dipping sauces to get yourself or a picky eater in your house to eat more veggies, try one or more of these on for size:

Dipping sauce ideas

1) Lemony and tart:In a jar, shake together 3 tablespoons olive oil + 1 tablespoon lemon juice + pinch of salt & pepper + handful of fresh herbs, minced + 1 clove garlic, minced (optional).

2) Creamy and savory:Combine ¼ cup plain Greek yoghurt + pinch of salt + ½ teaspoon of curry powder OR hot sauce OR a handful of fresh mint, chopped.

3) Nutty and spicy:Whisk together ½ small onion, minced + 2 tablespoons oil + 2 garlic cloves, minced + ½ cup water + ¼ cup creamy peanut butter + 1 tablespoon chili powder + 2 tablespoons lemon juice +  2 tablespoons soy sauce.

(Whisk in a few spoonfuls of olive oil to any of these to make a delicious dressing for a salad, too.)

Que Rico!

Last Sunday, I led yet another bilingual cooking demo, this time at the Bloomingdale Farmers Market – one of my other favorite markets around town. And this time, it was an interactive cooking demonstration. It was all part of the group visit with some of the families involved with the exciting Fruit and Vegetable Prescription pilot program. Well, I hadn't intended for it to be quite as interactive as it was, but when the opportunity presented itself, I went with it. I am a go-with-the-flow kind of girl.

As the moms shopped, and after I picked up ingredients from Truck Patch and Mountain View Farm, I found myself entertaining the kiddos while I set up to make cold zucchini noodles, chatting and joking with them in Spanish and English. First one precocious young man asked if he could help. Then another. Then suddenly there were five of them. "Okay, okay," I conceded, "but everyone who is going to touch food here has to wash their hands. Ah! And with soap!" I shouted as they scampered into Big Bear Cafe one after the other, coming back with reports of each other's hygienic diligence. "Todos listos? Okay, let's get started...."

With assistants to peel the squash and zucchini, juice the lemons, measure out the olive oil (oh, if only they knew how I generally neglect measuring, they'd maybe reconsider their precision), remove the basil and parsley leaves from the stems, we made the first batch of Fideos de Calabacin in less than 15 minutes.

 

“Que rico!” I heard from the mothers who stopped by to taste the fruit of our collaborative labors. “Vamos a cocinar esto a casa?” was answered with nodded assent from the 7- to 10-year-olds. I also heard a number of mothers chat about a return trip to this pleasant, friendly Sunday market, where nutrition assistance benefits are not only accepted but matched up to $10 each weekend. Healthy food, happy families. Sweet.

What's that? Oh. You want to know how to make this most simple and delicious of cold zucchini dishes... possibly with your kiddo(s)? Here's how:

Zucchini Noodles (aka Fideos de Calabacin)
Using a vegetable peeler, carefully slice the zucchini lengthwise, starting at one end and ending on the other end. As you peel closer to the center of the zucchini, turn the zucchini over and start peeling again from the opposite side. You can use a sharp knife to cut slices into thinner strips if you like, though a julienne peeler makes for the most consistent, skinny strips. These “noodles” are great COLD as a salad or HOT as a low-calorie substitute for pasta.

COLD ZUCCHINI SALAD
Make a dressing of juice from 1 lemon (about 3 Tablespoons), 4 Tablespoons olive oil, and 1/2 cup sliced or chopped fresh herbs (basil, mint, and/or parsley). Toss raw “noodles” with dressing and let marinate for 15-30 minutes. Variations: toss with 3-4 handfuls of lettuce or arugula. Sprinkle on 1/4 cup crumbled feta.

HOT ZUCCHINI “PASTA”
Heat a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add zucchini/squash “noodles” to the boiling water and cook very quickly, just 1-2 minutes until tender, but not mushy. Drain then toss with a little butter or olive oil, fresh herbs, and fresh peas or cherry tomatoes. You can also simply top with your favorite pasta sauce (or make some fresh pasta sauce with fresh tomatoes, the chopped up remains of your zucchini, herbs, and lots of garlic).

[Photo courtesy of Kealy Rudersdorf]
 

Garlic scape season is here!

You know you are a food educator -- and not a graphic designer -- when you find yourself making pictures like this one, just cobbled together moments ago for a friend who tends a nearby community garden plot. This pathetic excuse for a how-to diagram was too hilarious for me not to share here.

But it's garlic scape season, and I was worried she might accidentally snip too much (perhaps cutting off the leaves and thus harming the developing bulb) or too little (wasting the single, delicious scape each plant produces) without me there to guide her. (I swear I am not a control freak.) "Once you snip one or two," I told my students at Drew-Freeman last Monday as I demonstrated harvesting garlic scapes that were fated to end up in some delicious, spicy salad dressing during our final class/celebration/harvest, "you'll get the hang of it." And they did.

Actually, some of the teachers who helped out all year will be tasting some of the fruits of our garlicky labors tomorrow, when I bring them small jars of pesto made with the remaining Drew-Freeman scapes and some greens from my own little garden plot out back. No basil, though, thanks to some nefarious rodent that took a liking to the leaves of my little baby basil transplants in the garden. Bah. Who says pesto needs to be made with basil, anyway? I laugh in the face of culinary convention, and boldly claim here -- right in black and white (or whatever this font shows up as in your browser) -- that you can make pesto in near endless variations. And I did.This is a little more adventurous than the admittedly-perhaps-already-adventurous swiss chard pesto I posted here awhile back.

"Whatever's Around" Pesto

Combine in a food processor and blend together:
1. something garlicky: a few cloves of garlic (peeled) or a handful of garlic scapes
2. something leafy and green: a few cups of fresh basil, spinach, swiss chard, parsley -- go nuts!
(Speaking of nuts....)
3. a handful of some kind of nut: walnuts, pecans, almonds, sunflower seeds, pine nuts
4. a couple glugs of olive oil (or, heck, you can try other oils if you like)
5. a handful of shaved or grated salty cheese: parmesan, pecorino, asiago (or omit, to make it vegan)
6. a pinch of salt

The possibilities are almost endless! And so are pesto's uses! Toss some in with cooked pasta, slathered on a grilled cheese sandwich, mixed into salad dressing for a pasta salad, as a marinade for chicken or fish.... Lord, I love pesto.

I did draw the line when my friend and colleague, Jessica, suggested a peanut and kale pesto, but I am glad that she disregarded my recommendation to abandon the idea because I later learned her family LOVED it. (See? I can admit when I'm not right. It doesn't happen often, though.) ;)

Spread it around

Officially, I am not a fan of climate change, but yesterday's warm sunshine in the mid 60s made it a little hard to resist smiling. Being in the out-of-doors, leading a bevy of excited pre-teens, with my hands in the dirt for much of the afternoon -- it was just delightful. After a productive hour and a half of taking soil samples and building a raised bed and planting strawberries and spinach in the garden with my middle school group at Drew Freeman, a dozen of us washed up and strolled back into the classroom just in time to help Ms. Matthews and the class chefs out with the eating of our healthy snack of the day: black bean hummus with pita bread, blue corn tortilla chips, and a plethora of freshly cut up veggies. (They do love chopping, these young cooks.) Who knew these kids would love hummus? They certainly didn't...until they made it themselves and tasted it. The bowl was wiped pretty clean.

Afterwards, I realized that the teachers were as excited about the rich, creamy dip as the students were. It was that good. And inexpensive. And healthy. And, well, should you want to make your own, here's the ridiculously easy recipe, adapted from Cooking Light:

Black Bean Hummus
 
Ingredients
2-3 garlic cloves, peeled
4 TBSP lemon juice (freshly squeezed using one of these cool gadgets, if you have one)
2 TBSP tahini (roasted sesame seed paste)
2 tsp ground cumin (kids seem to like using the mortar and pestle...)
½ tsp salt
2 15-ounce cans of black beans, drained and rinsed
small jalapeno pepper, chopped
a handful of fresh cilantro, washed (optional to remove stems)
4 tsp olive oil

Directions
Put garlic, lemon juice, tahini, cumin, salt, black beans, jalapeno pepper, and cilantro in a food processor and process until smooth. You may need to add in 1-2 TBSP olive oil to make it creamy. Scoop out the spread into a bowl and drizzle with remaining olive oil. Serve with sliced fresh vegetables, pita bread, or bagel chips.

You know, with the weather so warm like this, you might need to break out a bowl of this at a picnic in the not-too-distant future. I'm just sayin'... Spread it around!

Friendsgiving

I love Thanksgiving. I mean, seriously, a day devoted to preparing and savoring a long meal with friends and family? We should do this more often as a culture, seems to me....

I shared the official holiday meal this year with mom, dad, my brother, his girlfriend, two of my uncles, and a tableful of food. No turkey, but still plenty of food. Dad started us off with some savory, free-range lambchops with cardamom and dried apricots in the slow cooker (a recipe from the Grassfed Gourmet cookbook I'd given him last year); mom went all out on the roasted brussels sprouts with pomegranate and the chestnut stuffing; I made decent work of the whole roasted duck with garlic, thyme, mustard, and tangerines with madeira gravy, and the sourdough baguettes put in a decent showing. As mom was serving up dessert, I scampered into the kitchen to get cracking on some duck soup. (What? You can't expect me to waste the best part of poultry! And she was taking too long cutting up my brother's belated birthday cake. Come on, I was back in time to sing Happy Birthday and scarf some red velvet cake before I went back to meddling with the broth.) That soup made for a lovely lunch the next day, let me tell you, with a couple of handfuls of purple stripey beans and a few carrots from the farmers' market plus a whole mess of herbs that dad and I kept tossing in. In case you can't guess, it is near impossible to leave my parents' house hungry. It gets a little heavy on the protein sometimes, though.

After all of that meat -- I come from a family of carnivores and still marvel at my ability to survive as a strict vegetarian for 5 years before my bacon relapse -- I needed a bit of detox. I had a stellar dinner of roasted root vegetables, a giant pear-walnut-bleu-cheese-red-lettuce salad, curried carrot salad (or as she and her husband refer to it, "Armenian New Year Salad" -- so delicious, who was I to point out that the onset of 2012 was more than a month away?), and chocolate pudding at cousin Sonia's last night. And as if reading my mind, my friend Abbie invited me to her co-op's annual vegan Friendsgiving potluck tonight. What a perfect ending to a long, sunny weekend filled with good people and food. And a welcome source of potatoes and cornbread and mushroom gravy and pumpkin pie after a long bike ride with my friend Ryan earlier in the day. (No, no, I packed snacks, of course, and we had a little picnic along the way, but I was hungry again after the 20-mile jaunt.) I had no idea what fun the large group meal would be, nor how delicious the offerings would be among the meatless crowd. Oh, that carrot soup! And the mashed potatoes with corn! And I must know who made that divine nut-based whipped cream! (I, lover of all things dairy, never thought the sentence "that vegan whipped cream sure was yummy" would ever come out of my mouth, but there you have it.)

My own offering was a simple curried butternut squash soup, which is fast becoming a staple of my culinary repertoire. Unfortunately, my attempt to bike it over to Abbie's place in Petworth was less than graceful, but nobody seemed phased when I dumped half of the soup that had puddled at the bottom of my pannier into the sink. The soup that remained in my malfunctioning tupperware warmed up nicely and in the end everything turned out alright. The various local beers on hand certainly didn't hurt the whole experience. (Hey, I said I'm taking a break from meat, not alcohol...though that might not be a bad idea, either. Maybe next week....)

Lest I be accused of being a full-time carnivore, I offer this relatively simple recipe, adapted from the wonderful, vegetarian Cafe Flora Cookbook (a birthday gift from my best friend Meghan last year, and also the source of the spectacular Portabella Wellington recipe):

Curried Butternut Squash Soup

Dry roast 1 tsp cumin seeds + 1/2 tsp coriander seeds until fragrant. Grind with a mortar and pestle, then add in 1-2 tsp curry powder. Set aside.

In a large pot, saute 1 onion (diced) in olive oil for a few minutes before adding a head of garlic (peeled and chopped) and a 1-inch piece of fresh ginger (peeled and minced).

Add 3-4 cups of fresh butternut squash (peeled, seeds removed, and cut into chunks) and stir in the spice mixture to coat the squash. Add 4-6 cups of vegetable broth and a bay leaf, then simmer until squash is soft (about 20 minutes).

Puree soup -- I look for any excuse to use Mike's immersion blender, but a regular blender or food processor would work almost as well -- then stir in 1 can of coconut milk. Season with salt and pepper and serve. (Don't be shy with the salt, either. I think tonight's iteration of the soup could've used a bit more of it, to be honest.)

I like to eat this alongside a hunk of sourdough and a big green salad. It's delicious and vegan-friendly...if you're into that kind of thing.

(Er, sorry, no pictures this time. I was in a bit of a rush this morning making soup and cookies and some mini quiches before the bike ride.)

Lock your doors, zucchini season is here

A few years ago, I borrowed a copy of Barbara Kingsolver's "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" from my friend Jeanne. I recall there being an amusing anecdote in it suggesting that the only time rural Southerners locked their doors was in the summer, at the height of zucchini season. Well. Though DC is a Southern town, I don't think I am in any danger of being reverse burgled with squashes. However, between friends at Arcadia and Walker Jones farms I do seem to have come into quite a lot of courgettes.

I love zucchini. Chef Allison over at DC Central Kitchen made a lovely "zucchini ribbons with lemon juice and mint" dish for a reception I volunteered at last week that I mean to replicate soon. A small crowd enjoyed some slightly charred baby zucchini at Henry's barbecue yesterday. I am still perfecting the chocolate zucchini cake recipe -- it's coming, I promise -- which I plan to bring to a dinner party next weekend. Tonight I thought I'd change things up a bit and fiddle with a zucchini soup recipe.

 Now, you might think hot soup is the last thing one would want in July, but it gets rather cold in the basement apartment when the air conditioning is cranked to combat the summer heat upstairs, so a steaming bowl of soup was actually rather welcome this evening -- a satisfying but not overly heavy bowl of creamy goodness and a slab of sourdough were a nice calm meal after all of the excitement of this afternoon's barbecue and viewing of the FIFA women's final. Here's how you might whip up a batch yourself. (And incidentally, it's also good cold.)

Curried Zucchini Soup

Saute 2 small onions + 5-6 cloves of garlic in 1 tsp olive oil in a large pot on low for 5 minutes.

Chop 3-4 zucchini into thick coin slices -- it works out to, I dunno, 4 cups' worth -- and add to pot.

Sprinkle in some curry powder and cayenne powder (1/4-1/2 tsp each, depending on how spicy you like it) + a pinch or two of salt, stir, and turn the heat up to medium. Cook for 2 or 3 minutes, being sure zucchini is coated with spices.

Add in 5-6 cups of good veggie stock -- enough to cover zucchini -- then simmer for 20 minutes, until zucchini is soft.

Remove soup from the stovetop and puree in batches using a blender or food processor. Or use an immersion blender directly in the pot (as I did with one Mike loaned me, pictured above -- I need one of these for myself, I'm hooked). Then stir in 1-2 TBSP plain sour cream or whipping cream. (Yes, whipping cream. Not that stuff that comes in an aerosol can, I mean the good stuff.)

Serve in bowls with a couple grinds of black pepper and a slab of toasted sourdough bread. Yum.

My oh my, with all of this beautiful produce around, if I'm not careful this may turn into an all out cooking blog. Maybe it's time to get serious about a bikeable feast cookbook....

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

A chard day's night

Yesterday was one of those perfect days. In spite of the over 100 degree (and humid, my god!) weather. Ollie and I made our way all over town, covering about 30 miles: from a vibrant community garden in Ledroit Park in the morning to Conall's first birthday party in Silver Spring later in the afternoon, then across town for dinner in Friendship Heights, and finally to Adams Morgan for a little dancing before meandering home from the salsa club at 2am. ("Thirty miles on a bicycle in this heat?" Psh. I didn't even put my bike shorts on. Actually, it felt cooler to be cycling in a skirt and blouse rather than spandex.)
How apt that it was a day filled with food and conversation and farming and dancing, this two-week marker of my return to DC. Things began with a few hours of weeding and mulching at Common Good City Farm (which I'd been meaning to check out since before I left DC). The hard labor wrapped up a bit after noon as everyone gathered for a potluck lunch and chat about food security under the shade tent. They were willing guinea pigs for one of my latest culinary experiments: roasted beet and dark chocolate brownies. (Okay, it was more of a moist, fluffy cake, in terms of consistency, thanks to my inadvertent addition of baking soda instead of baking powder -- there is a difference.) A post on Common Good is on the way soon. On with the perfect day....
After a quick shower, I assembled some ingredients to make mini pizzas for the afternoon birthday party. I had plenty of goat cheese and veggies and dough that I'd made for the crust the evening before, but sauce? Curses, I forgot to get more tomatoes at the Petworth farmers' market on Friday! I opened the fridge and noticed a bunch of swiss chard peeking through the window of the crisper. Hmmm. Necessity is the mother of invention. It's green, and I had garlic... a pesto variation, perhaps? In fact, it turned out to be one of my tastier kitchen endeavors. Here, for you experimental cooks out there, is a new favorite:
A Chard Day's Night Pesto
In a food processor, combine:
- 2-4 cloves garlic, peeled
- 1 handful fresh basil leaves
- 1 cup fresh chard greens (center stalks removed)
- 1 handful walnuts
- 2 TBSP olive oil
- 1-2 tsp brown sugar
- a pinch of sea salt
Pulse ingredients together until creamy, adding 1-2 tsp water as needed. Makes about 1 cup. Good as a pizza sauce, pasta sauce, on sandwiches, on a spoon. And it's vegan (if you're into that kind of thing).
The little pizzas came out just fine. For those curious about the rest of the perfect day, the later portion consisted of dinner with my friend Beth and her husband (visiting from North Dakota) at my favorite restaurant in DC -- the Chat Noir, with french delicacies galore! -- and salsa dancing at my favorite spot in the city with one of my favorite dance partners ever. Ahhh, it's good to be home.

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Let them eat kale!

I first heard of "massaged kale" from Marco's wife as we were making dinner together on my way through Olympia, WA. I was intrigued as much by the name -- good lord, after all of the biking I've been doing these days, the word "massage" evokes a whimsical sigh before I can stop myself (over 7 months and not so much as a footrub from any of the woodland creatures I've chatted with) -- as by the idea of eating raw kale. By the time I arrived at Yochi's house in Eugene, OR, I'd been thinking about massaged kale, which I'd yet to try out, for a solid week. Fortuitously, Yochi's CSA share the previous week left him with a rather sizeable bunch of kale and a pile of onions. I rummaged around my miscellaneous food stash to locate some dried cranberries, an apple, and raw almonds. A quick internet search and bit of tinkering later, our Thanksgiving meal had a novel addition, and it only got more flavorful by the next day. I give you...

"Let Them Eat Kale" Salad
(Serves 4-6 as a side dish)
Wash, remove the tough stalks from, and chop one large bunch of fresh, organic kale.
Put chopped kale into a large bowl and add a spoonful of salt. (Try between 1 tsp and 1 TBSP -- honestly, it depends on how much kale, what variety, and how tough it is.)
Toast a handful of nuts (almonds worked best, but sunflower seeds weren't bad, either) in a dry pan on the stove or on a cookie sheet in the oven for about 5 minutes. Cool, chop, and set aside.
Meanwhile, massage salt into the kale with your hands for about 5 minutes, until the kale is about 1/2 to 1/3 its original bulk and darker in color. (Don't be shy, get right in there with your knuckles. Like a good back rub. Ahhh, a back rub. Oh. Sorry.)
Add in:
• 1/2 small onion or 1 shallot, thinly sliced
• 1 apple, cored and thinly sliced
• 1 or 2 TBSP apple cider (or balsamic) vinegar
• a handful of dried cranberries (I think raisins or chopped apricots would work) or 2 sliced, ripe persimmons
• 1 TBSP olive oil
• freshly ground black pepper
• the chopped, toasted nuts
• 1/4 cup chevre or other soft, mild goat cheese (you can omit this to make it vegan, but it's darn tasty)
Stir everything together, serve, and enjoy!
I'm telling you, by the second or third day in the fridge, it's even better. (Yochi, back me up here.) I've made it three times already, including tonight with the mix of 3 kale varieties we harvested at Deep Seeded Community Farm earlier today. I know what I'm having for breakfast #1 tomorrow....

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Souper Tuesday

I've been learning all sorts of things here at a small farm and intentional community in upstate New York: composting, CSAs, herb drying, hand pollinating, seed saving. A post on those and other interesting tidbits is on the way in a few days. But by special request, I wanted to post a couple of recipes I tried out on Karl and Alison earlier today.
When I arrived at the farm on Saturday afternoon, I called dad -- as is my custom -- to let him know Ollie and I had arrived safely after our marathon 220-mile trip from the last farm in Essex. Since it was dad and I, the conversation invariably turned to food, and dad mentioned that he'd heard a recipe on "The Splendid Table" along the lines of a cold borsch. Raw beet soup! I was intrigued. As I'd accidentally picked a few too many beets yesterday for the CSA boxes, today for lunch I thought I'd take a crack at making it. I knew the ingredients, but not the proportions. How hard could it be? In truth, not hard at all. (The leek was not in the original ingredient list dad gave me, but it filled out the otherwise raw soup's flavor quite nicely... and it's seasonal... and was just sitting there on the counter gazing longingly at the Cuisinart as I was gathering the other ingredients.) Here's roughly the recipe for the experiment that, according to my lovely hosts (and willing guinea pigs), was quite a hit....
Summer Beet Soup
Saute:
-1 leek, chopped, in olive oil for about 5 minutes
Meanwhile, puree in a blender:
-2 cups of unpeeled raw beets, chopped into chunks
-4-5 cloves of raw garlic, sliced
-2 cups of plain yoghurt (we used raw sheep's milk yoghurt)
Add leek to blender along with salt and pepper to taste. Puree once more. Serve with crusty bread and, if you're feeling adventurous, a side of the beet greens sauteed with olive oil, sliced garlic, raisins, a sprinkle of nutmeg, salt and pepper.
Are beets still boycotted at the White House? Let me into that kitchen....
Then for dinner, after I accidentally dug up a few onions while weeding the onion patch -- I'm loving these edible mistakes -- and Alison hooked me up with some fresh parsley on my way back to the house, I decided it was time to try to replicate my friend Ellen's vegan lentil soup. (The recipe is again an approximation, and not nearly as good as I recall Ellen's being but, ahem, she never gave me the recipe.) I forgot to add about 1/4 teaspoon of red pepper flakes, but otherwise here it is...
Ellen's Lentil Soup, Redux
Soak in cold water for 2 hours:
-1 cup of lentils (preferably red)
Saute in a large pot:
-2-3 onions, chopped
-6-8 cloves of garlic, chopped
Add in:
-1-2 cups of unpeeled, cubed potatoes
-1 cup of unpeeled, chopped carrots and/or parsnips
-1 cup of peeled, cubed sweet potato (not in the original recipe but we had one from the food co-op lying around)
-lentils, drained
-6-8 cups of water
-2 bay leaves
-a whole mess of fresh parsley (1 cup?)
-salt and pepper (and red pepper flakes if you are less spacey than I am and remember to add some)
Bring to a boil, then turn down and simmer for 45 minutes. Serve with toasted bread rubbed with raw garlic and olive oil.
Hmmm. I wonder if I might have to put together a second edition of cookmarks....


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