I Yam Sexy

Saturday night we had our first dinner party at the new place.  A real dinner party, grown-up style, in our grown-up place.  The furniture doesn’t match, our dining room table is a shaky little version surrounded by director’s chairs that our landlords left for us, and there is no light in the main room (the lights of the city are really all we need) – but it’s still a grown-up house, in my opinion.  Our kitchen is large and the shelves are stocked with glassware for 10 different kinds of alcohol.  The framed vintage Vogue magazine covers from the 40’s that decorate the walls speak “I’m a retro kitchen and I know it... we’re going for irony here, people.”  The bamboo floors are new and pristine, and we have a fireplace in a separate room, a room just for sitting and contemplating the view out over the port, the ships coming in and coming out.  It’s a grown-up place alright.  Even if we don’t feel quite like grownups in it yet.

So we’re having a dinner party.  I suppose that’s no surprise.  I would have a dinner party even if I somehow ended up in a refrigerator box under I-90.  I would be the bum with the best dumpster meals, I swear.  And I’d always break out the Dixie cups to share my 40 ouncer of King Cobra.  Yes, it’s just my nature.  Let the food and spirits flow.

Thankful I had a real fridge and not just a box, I rolled some food ideas around in my head.  To accommodate everyone, the meal was to be vegetarian with no fish, so I didn’t have to think too hard to come up with a menu.  But I thought hard anyway.  I do that.  If you come up with one solution easily and quickly - scrap it because creativity comes when you try to think a little bit outside the box (yes, the fridge box).  Not that creativity is tough, but it may take a little push to get away from the obvious sometimes.

The first menu I came up with would have taken me two days to make.  Knowing I had more than just a meal to accomplish this weekend, I decided to go with simplicity.  Multi-day prep? Hmm, maybe not.  So I pared down some of the items and came up with a balanced meal that was fresh, colorful, and just a little bit sensuous.  Valentine’s Day is coming up, and a girl shouldn’t be oblivious to that, surely. 

I’ll make my massaged kale salad (oooooo massage…) and then Heidi’s recipe for tempeh (sweet and salty) with roasted yams, smothered in saged olive oil, coarse sea salt, maple syrup and cayenne (sweet and spicy).  Those potatoes were to be my creative and sexy contribution to it all.  Yeah baby, sexy.  Sweet with a kick.  Just like me.  Ahem.

I scrubbed those big brown-skinned yams, and chopped them into large chunks.  Before the sun went down, I trotted out to the back yard and plucked the largest sage leaves I could find on our poor, winter-weary plant.  I minced the sage very fine, and steeped the little bits in a nice jar of golden olive oil.  A bit of cayenne, the oil, maple syrup and then the large grains of sea salt dancing and bouncing off the hunks of potato as I sprinkled generously.  With oily hands I tossed them on the baking sheet, my fingers remembering how to manipulate each piece.  I spread them all out to bake, tipping and scooting them into their own little hot spots.  Big trays of big oily pieces.  Reminds me of the thousands of croutons that I scooted and prodded on oily sheets this past summer at the restaurant.  My fingers remembered just how.

Our friends arrived and we stood laughing and drinking wine in our ironic, grownup kitchen.  Our friend and her guest brought us a box of dark chocolate truffles and a bottle of petite syrah.  Our first Valentine’s gift.  The dinner turned out lovely, laid out on our red tablecloth with large grown-up glasses of red wine.  This is what I've always wanted.  A table set with candles, four people with red wine, eating food I felt proud to serve, in a home I felt proud to live in.  Big spaces, high ceilings and windows as tall as me.  Friends and food, people who appreciate you for all your wackiness (I wear black turbans and purple sparkly tracksuit jackets as inspirational cooking attire.)  Mark breaks out his doumbek and hands a djembe to our other guest who's purported to have real coordination.  The boys drum and later the girls twirl around a little, even if to pose just for the camera.  

Before we end the evening, we eat something chocolatey I made for dessert and then open a bottle of cherry wine.  Now this is sexy.  Valentine's day I've never made a big deal out of - I prefer to show subtle ways of saying I love you all year long.  Subtle is sexy.  Understatement is sexy too.  I believe in sensuousness year round.  

We won't be making a big deal out of the 14th this year, but we will open up a bottle of wine and share food that is sweet then sneaks up on you with a little kick.  Just like love.

Spicy Maple Yams with Sage

serves 6

I hesitated to even write a recipe for this one, as you should feel free to toss in more oil, herbs and hot spices than what it calls for - and how big is a 'large' yam anyway?  So go on and toss and slather and sprinkle and make it all up sexy-like.  Let go. That's sexy too.

3-4 large yams

1/4 tsp Cayenne (more or less to taste)

1/4 cup maple syrup

1/4 cup +  olive oil

Big handful of sage, chopped fine

Coarse sea salt 

Mince the sage finely and steep in olive oil for 30 minutes.  Meanwhile, chop the yams into large chunks and preheat the oven to 450 degrees.  Toss yams with olive oil mixture, cayenne and maple syrup.  Sprinkle with salt.  Spread out on a baking sheet sparsely (if the chunks are too close they will steam more than brown and roast) and roast until a fork piercing shows them soft and the outside golden brown.  

A Dish to Look Forward To

Something to look forward to.  I always need something to look forward to, to get me excited when I'm feeling that cool, grey weather dreariness.  Yes, I know it isn't very buddhist-in-the-moment of me to say it, but looking forward to something, anything is just what gets me through the week when I feel stuck in the hamster wheel of my life.  Wake up. Run 6 miles in the dark.  Walk to work.  Work.  Walk home.  Have dinner with Mark.  Talk about the day and the rain.  Watch it get dark before 5.  Wish that I didn't have to get up and do it all again the next day.  Sigh.  Do it all again.

No, my life isn't awful, or really even that difficult... it's just the weather and the routine that could make anybody feel a little sodden right now.

Sometimes that something is simply thinking about that nice little kiss that Mark will give me when he walks in the door.  Sometimes it's my favorite television show full of blood, medical drama, sex and McDreamy (attention Grey's Anatomy producers:  you run the risk of losing a viewer if you fail to incorporate a hot dietitian character into the next season.)  Sometimes it's making Friday night plans to do happy hour at our favorite haunt, and other times it's picturing myself curled up in a blanket and reading a book that takes me far, far away.  

But sometimes, I agree to break out of the monotony by engaging my creativity - and of course this involves food.  This week I started with an ingredient:  wild rice.  Then I started layering ideas on top of that rice. What about something sweet?  What's in season?  What color would be exciting?  Pomegranates. Check.  Then something acidic, to give it some tang... oranges, with their zest!  Now this dish is starting to scream fall.  And then some walnuts and sage... and this may even be one to add to my cookbook.  Cookbook?  Oh yes, that's another thing I tell myself to look forward to; my future and very imaginary cookbook, published by a well-known house, promoted by the Food Network (this comes after my own show, of course) and getting publicity through Gourmet magazine and while we're at it - Oprah. (Hey, this is my fantasy-slash-coping mechanism. Deal with it.)

As I bring myself down from a creative gastronomic reverie, and remind myself that a rice salad won't bring me fame and fortune, I pick up the ingredients from the market, put them into my clunker car, and head home. Beautiful food shared with others is something to look forward to, even without a pristine photo layout and endorsement by talk show hosts... but it would help.

So here's my effort, shared with you, my adoring and multitudinous fans!  A colorful, delicious and nutritious dish, endorsed by the folks in the bamboo hut, featured and promoted in Seattle Sundays, and eaten by me. Enjoy, as I've been looking forward to this moment all week.

Wild Rice with Pomegranate and Sage

Serves 6

This dish may scream fall, but the colors remind me of Christmas.  This dish would go well with any holiday meal.  You could try this with cranberries either fresh or dried in place of the pomegranate, but why not make an excuse to explore this exotic fruit?  They aren't as complex as they seem... just go here to learn more. The wild rice I used is of this type by Lundberg organic.  If you want to substitute a wild rice blend, I'm sure that would turn out yummy as well.    

2 1/3 cups water 

8 oz Lundberg organic wild rice

1 teaspoon sea salt

1 teaspoon orange zest

Juice from 1 medium orange

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

1/4 cup fresh sage, chopped fine

 1/2 cup pomegranate arils

2/3 cup broken walnut halves, toasted

In a medium saucepan, bring the water to a boil.  Add 1/2 teaspoon of the sea salt and the wild rice.  Stir once, bring the rice back to a boil, then reduce to medium-low heat and cover to cook for 45 minutes.  Do not stir!  You'll know the rice is done when you lift the lid and tip the pot to one side, showing no pooling water, meaning it has all been absorbed.  

While the rice is cooking, zest the orange to gain the 1 teaspoon of orange zest, then juice it into a small bowl. Add the zest, then the olive oil, minced sage, and 1/2 teaspoon of the sea salt.  Stir to combine.

Open the pomegranate to remove its arils.  Set aside 1/2 cup of the arils.  Toast the walnut pieces either on the stovetop or in the oven until lightly browned and fragrant.

When the rice is done cooking, add the orange juice and sage mixture, and then the walnuts and the pomegranate arils.  Stir and serve warmed.  

  

What’s for Dinner?

So it’s approaching 5:30pm and I’m home from work. Mark is home. We’ve both just stumbled warily through the door, given smiles and little kisses and small exclamations of how we’ve missed each other during the day. We chuck off our shoes and our jackets and stumble as fast as humanly possible into our comfy plaid pajama pants. I plop on the couch and Mark opens the fridge for his favorite beer. Ah, finally home.

Now, what’s for dinner?

In our house, I rule the kitchen. Now mind you, Mark makes a mean bowl of pasta with red sauce from our favorite organic brand from a jar. He also does steamed broccoli with toasted almonds and olive oil like a champ. He’s also been known to jump (okay, sometimes maybe begrudgingly roll) out of bed on a Saturday morning and with a bounce in his step go to the kitchen and exclaim “French Toast and Bugs Bunny!!” With two eggs, vanilla soymilk, oat sunflower bread and real maple syrup, he whips up half a loaf of the stuff with Bugs antagonizing Yosemite Sam as inspiration.

But when it comes to dinner, ahem, I take on the responsibility for fulfilling at least one third of his daily protein, calorie, and phytonutrient needs. I’m a nutritionist, what can I say? I quietly try to figure out how to balance out what he’s probably already eaten that day, which goes something like this: cereal, power bar, turkey sandwich, power bar, five stalks of broccoli (yes, this is my crowning achievement), power bar. We’re gonna need some major plant foods here, folks. We’re gonna need a protein source, and if at all possible let’s try and eat some grain other than wheat (don’t even get me started on the over-wheating of America!) And dinner needs to be yummy, and creative, and something that I will have fun playing with, and different than the last five dinners we’ve had (which would all be various forms of pizza if Mark were Kitchen Sorcerer). After all my mental nutrition calculations and creative machinations I seem to forget to ask the vital and obvious question, what do we feel like having for dinner?

Many nights I could just eat a salad with a bunch of leftovers thrown in and call it good. But Mark doesn’t like salads (yes, I’ve still got a ways to go on that one) so something hot and vegetable-y it will be.

How about some tofu? And stir fried veggies… and then some quinoa… but I feel like something soupy with savory salty broth. I didn’t want to make soup, but I think we can compromise somehow. The little concoction I came up with was so colorful, but warm and hearty too, but also light, I suppose. Maybe you just have to taste it to see what I mean.

Now a word on quinoa. Have you not yet tried this exotic little pearl of perfect nutrition? Run thee to a corner natural foods market and grab yourself a bag. It’s now a staple in my kitchen. You can use it just about anywhere you’d use rice, but quinoa is higher in protein and fiber. It originally comes from the Andean countries of South America where many native cultures have subsisted on it, particularly in Peru. In the past I have struggled to describe it’s aroma and flavor. Then a few years ago when I was teaching a kid’s cooking class we made up a pot of quinoa. I let the 7 and 8 year old kids put their nose near to smell, and a precocious little girl turned to me and said “corn!” And wouldn’t you know she’s right. The aroma smells like fresh sweet corn, and the flavor is also reminiscent, but mildly so.

I admit, on some tired days dinner may seem like a chore, but most evenings I remind myself that dinner is a ritual. It is a way we care for our bodies, our minds, and our lovers. Dinner is an opportunity to feel the vegetables snap on the chopping block, smell the garlic turning brown in the pan, give a whisper of thanks that I have such beautiful food, and the ability to taste it, touch it, and give it to others. It is a meditation, a creation that is all your own. If you have to spend 20 minutes, why not make them count? Those minutes are gifts, opportunities to slow down and care for our bodies. Even if it's pasta and jarred sauce, it is your contribution. It is a way to show love.

Dinner is what you make it.


Tofu with Herbed Vegetables and Quinoa

This dish is just a gussied-up version of the staples that we have for dinner many nights, tofu or beans, any vegetables leftover in the fridge, and some of that magical quinoa. So simple, play around with it and make it pretty, or stir it all together, add more broth and create soup!

1 pound extra firm tofu, sliced into strips or squares
1/2 cup shoyu or tamari
2 tablespoons olive oil

1 cup quinoa
3-4 cups water, flavorful stock and/or a dry white wine
2 large sprigs rosemary
1 bunch sage
1 bunch thyme
3 tablespoons miso
3 tablespoons olive oil

4-5 cups of any vegetables you have around (red cabbage, hearty greens, tomatoes, carrots, etc.)
5 large cloves garlic
3 tablespoons vegan worcestshire sauce
3 tablespoons olive oil

fresh cracked pepper and sea salt to taste

Marinate the tofu for about an hour in the shoyu. In a large cast iron skillet, heat the 2 tablespoons olive oil until a drop of water crackles and sizzles in the pan. Add the tofu and sear until dark brown on both sides. Drain on paper towels. While the tofu is frying, in a medium saucepan bring the vegetable stock and/or wine to a boil. Add the quinoa, rosemary, sage, and thyme and cook until quinoa is tender - there should be a nice amount of broth leftover. Turn off the heat and let cool for a few minutes. Add the miso and olive oil and stir well. If you love garlic, add some extra cloves into the cooking quinoa. While the quinoa is cooking, saute the vegetables. In your cast iron skillet, add the 3 tablespoons olive oil and bring to temperature. Add the garlic and saute until very lightly brown. Add the harder vegetables, such as carrots or potatoes first. Cook for a few minutes, then add the softer vegetables. Once all vegetables are tender, add the worcestshire sauce and cook a minute more. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Serve in deep plates, layering the quinoa, then the tofu and topping with the vegetables. Garnish with fresh herbs.

Lentil Stew

Everybody has them.  Those days when you’re running around doing and going and feeding everyone else but yourself (I fed 200 people today at PCC!)  You’re tired, you’re cranky, you’re sick of thinking of things you ‘gotta do’ and gosh darnit, you’re hungry. Most days after coming home from the restaurant, or from teaching a long cooking class I don’t know how I could be hungry at all, what with the long hours of making and smelling the same foods over and over again, until I finally reach a point of sensory burnout.  Nothing really sounds good.  You don’t even know what ‘good’ is because you’ve been smelling food all day and you’re almost numb to the aromas, the thought of taking a bite seems as mundane as breathing. 

But there is something that nudges the senses – remember this smell?  That comforts and gently soothes and always sounds good no matter what.  I’m sure you have those smells too.  For some people it’s mac n’ cheese, or quesadillas or mashed potatoes with salted butter, or maybe just a turkey sandwich with tomato.  Some days for me it’s falafel (my hippie mother would make it out of a box mix for me when I was a kid).  But most days, with little time to make up anything else, I turn to lentil stew.  Lentils take less than half the time to rehydrate than other legumes.  It’s a vegetarian staple, and if you ask most vegetarians who like to cook, even a little bit, they’ll doubtless have their own version.

Now for the geeky food-science portion of our post.  Ahem.  The word ‘lentil’ is actually latin for ‘lens’ which is an appropriate name given their shape – two convex lenses sealed at the edges.  In Spanish lentils are ‘lentejas’ which is closer to lens in that language which is ‘lente’.  Lentils are incredibly varied in size and shape, everything from orange to yellow and very black.  I urge you to check out the black ones, the beluga variety as they’re so beautiful… and wouldn’t they make an incredible vegetarian caviar over blini with egg and smoked salt (oooh, put that one in my back pocket for a future post!)

They are small and beautiful, full of iron and folate, antioxidants, and so much protein… and fiber!  So much fiber!  Okay, I’ll stop now as Dotty the Dietitian has just pulled out her milk crate to stand upon for an oratory on the dismal amount of fiber in the American diet.

Now, where were we… oh yes, the stew.  My own version of this varies from day to day, depending on what I happen to have in the fridge.  Always I include tons of garlic, some white wine, onions and carrots.  Mark loves it when I toss in a bit of tortellini, and when I can steal a handful of fresh herbs such as rosemary and thyme from my neighbor’s front lawn, those go in there too.  This last time I was lucky to have a stock leftover from a previous soup with sage – and the stock was heavily fragrant with that earthy, sublime smell.  Sage given to me from a friend, in bunches, went into that stock.  It made a world of difference.  I used French green lentils which are visually inspiring – each one a perfect little world unto itself, green, grey and blue swirls on each tiny bean, like a little planet in the palm of your hand.  The savory, salty broth with that gamey sage and the soft pebble-like lentils floating alongside browned onions and garlic, well, no matter the day, I’m tempted by a bowl of that. 

So this evening, Mark and I serve up two big bowls, toast a bit of leftover cornbread, pour a glass of wine and plop down onto the couch, sighing and humming.  I can start to feel the life seep back into my toes, my head, my tummy. 

The day’s craziness calms into a low buzz, and Mark looks at me and gives me a closed-mouth grin, cheeks full of soup and bread.  I get a big smile from this one, every time.

 

Lentil Stew

This recipe is very approximate… stews are meant for improvisation!  Sub one thing for another, a bit of this, a bit of that.  Try the grey-green lentils for a change, they cook faster, and don’t dare skimp on the herbs.  My motto in the kitchen? When in doubt, dump it in.

6-10 cups combination of any stock, water and/or white wine

2 ½ cups lentils

3 tablespoons olive oil

2 large sweet onions, chopped

6 cloves garlic, minced

2 medium carrots, chopped

Bunches of herbs such as rosemary, thyme, oregano, sage, basil

½ cup extra virgin olive oil

¼ cup shoyu, tamari or add sea salt to taste

1 cup tortellini

Freshly cracked black pepper

 

In a large pot, bring stock to boil.  Add lentils and cover pot to simmer.  While lentils are cooking, heat a large skillet with the 3 tablespoons olive oil and add onions, stirring to brown.  Reduce heat on onions to medium to slow browning, add a pinch of salt and continue to stir until a deep brown, but not black color is achieved.  Add garlic and cook for a few minutes more.  When the lentils are firm, but not to consistency, add the onions, carrots, herbs, and shoyu or sea salt and cover, letting cook until lentils are completely soft and carrots are cooked through.  Add the tortellini and cook until tender.  Season with fresh cracked pepper and serve.