Happy Jack Eats

Winter evenings, and slow-cooked feijoada.

2012-01-26T21:55:00.000-06:00

Here is what I have been loving about this winter:

clementines

relatively mild weather

chicken and brown rice soup

a new board game

Canal House Cooking Vol. 3

rewatching LOST episodes

reading

lists

slow cooker meals

Last month, I fell in love with a slow-cooked ham shank. Have you tasted the meat off a ham shank that has been cooking for eight-plus hours? It's magic. Fall-off-the-bone-tender, flavor-that-clings-to-every-ingredient, silky-shredded-meat, magic. Thus began an obsession with my slow cooker.

In the past two months, I have used my slow cooker four times, and my parents' slow cooker once. It all started with Brazilian feijoada, which I discovered after a coworker brought in her leftovers for lunch one day and was gracious enough to share. Feijoada (fay-ZWAH-dah) is a stew typically served in South America, and includes beef, pork and beans. This particular recipe called for boneless pork shoulder, beef short ribs, ham hocks (did you know that ham hocks and ham shanks are the same thing?), bacon and black beans. In a word: YES.

So I got the recipe, and made it for my sister and brother-in-law on one of our many board game nights, and served it with rice and juicy Satsuma oranges. For appetizers, we had Renn Faire mushrooms that had been frozen since the summer and simmered back to life, with crusty bread to dip in the broth. After dinner, we video chatted with my other sister and brother-in-law in California. It was a good night. Add that one to the list.

Brazilian Feijoada (from Cooking Light)

I had trouble finding ham hocks, but finally ended up at Whole Foods, where the butcher told me that ham hocks and ham shanks are the same thing. This recipe doesn't mention anything about removing the meat from the shank and returning to the pot once it's done, but mine had so much meat on it that I couldn't possibly just toss it. Next time, I might just use the pork shoulder and ham hock, and skip the beef short ribs altogether.

Another thing: this stuff freezes beautifully. In fact, that last photo up there is of the leftovers I ate just a few days ago. Thaw in the fridge and put over low heat on the stove, with just a splash or two of water to add a bit more moisture.

And finally, the oranges really do add a nice, refreshing touch.

2 cups dried black beans
4 slices bacon, chopped
1 pound boneless pork shoulder (Boston butt), trimmed and cut into 1/2-inch cubes
3/4 teaspoon salt, divided
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, divided
3 bone-in beef short ribs, trimmed (about 2 pounds)
3 cups chopped onion (about 2 medium)
1 1/4 cups chicken broth
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 (9-ounce) smoked ham hock
1 tablespoon white vinegar
8 orange wedges

Place beans in a small saucepan; cover with cold water. Bring to a boil; cook for 2 minutes. Remove from heat; cover and let stand 1 hour. Drain. (Alternatively, you could soak the beans overnight, then drain and rinse.)

Cook bacon in a large skillet over medium heat until crisp. Remove bacon from pan and set aside. Sprinkle pork evenly with 1/8 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper. Increase heat to medium-high. Add pork to drippings in skillet; sauté 8 minutes, turning to brown on all sides. Transfer pork to a 6-quart electric slow cooker.

Sprinkle ribs evenly with 1/8 teaspoon salt and remaining 1/4 teaspoon pepper. Add ribs to skillet; cook 3 minutes on each side or until browned. Place ribs in slow cooker.

Add drained beans, remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt, onion, and next 3 ingredients (through ham hock) to slow cooker, stirring to combine. Cover and cook on LOW 8 hours or until beans and meat are tender.

Remove ribs from slow cooker; let stand 15 minutes. Remove meat from bones; shred meat with 2 forks. Discard bones. Remove ham hock from slow cooker, and shred the meat off the bone. Discard bone. Return beef and ham to slow cooker. Stir in vinegar and crumbled bacon. Serve with orange wedges and rice.

almost Film Friday.

2012-01-19T22:21:00.000-06:00

Some scenes from December

that involved homemade pizza

and cinnamon buns.

Tonight, there was chicken in the slow cooker

topped with biscuits.

Right now, there is a fire.

Tomorrow, a snow storm.

This weekend, I'll make corn chowder

with the fresh sweet corn we froze

over the summer.

Summer.

It seems so far away.

But Friday is close

and that's good enough for now.

Here's to the new.

2011-12-31T13:56:00.000-06:00

We're in Florida right now
enjoying family
food
roller coasters
sunshine
Bloody Marys
and a new year.
Happy 2012!
to you and yours.
Looking forward
to what comes next.

Arroz caldo, and Merry Christmas!

2011-12-22T16:57:00.000-06:00

I'm not usually one to make lists until my tasks start to get too overwhelming. There are grocery lists, of course, and there was the beast of a wedding checklist, but everyday chores, errands or goals never really make it to paper.

Lately, though, there have been weekend lists. It started when I kept bookmarking and printing out recipes to try, only to leave them untouched on the kitchen counter all weekend while I did other things (i.e., nothing). I put the recipes on the list. Then I had to make sure I got my oil changed and did the laundry. Then it was two weeks before Christmas, and there were gifts to make and to order. Now, Christmas weekend is here, and the remaining tasks on my list include: wrap presents, make more Heath bar cookies, buy tickets to Universal Studios (I'll be in Florida next week!), pack for said Florida trip, and make chocolate bourbon milkshakes. That last one has been making its way to the bottom of the list for weeks now. Don't worry, it'll happen. Just not today.

Here's something I did check off my list: arroz caldo.

I wanted to make sure I made this and shared it with you before Christmas, because it's a Filipino Christmas food. At least, it's what my parents said they'd eat on Christmas Eve in the Philippines. And when I told my mom I made it, she said, "Oh that's comfort food." Yes, it so is.

Arroz caldo doesn't look like much. In fact, I've written about it here before and compared it to gruel -- it's a thick, sludgy rice and chicken dish (literally means "rice broth," and is the Filipino version of congee, or porridge) with no real color besides a sprinkle of green onions and fried garlic flakes. The rice is simmered in chicken broth with ginger, garlic and patis (fish sauce), until the rice thickens yet becomes silky, and soaked with flavor.

It's the type of warming food that you eat out of a big bowl or mug when you're waist-deep in holiday to-dos, and you just need to pause and slow down and be happy that it's the holidays and you made one of your favorite dishes and it tastes (almost!) as good as Mom and Dad's.

Merry Christmas, guys!

Chicken Arroz Caldo (adapted from Jun-blog and my mom's method)
My mom makes arroz caldo with bone-in chicken parts and water. I was too lazy to deal with chicken bones, so I used boneless chicken thighs and broth, instead -- per Jun's recipe. This stuff thickens a lot over time, so just add a bit of water before reheating.

1 tablespoon canola oil
3 - 5 garlic cloves, peeled and finely chopped
1 1-inch piece of ginger, peeled and finely chopped, about 1/2 tablespoon
1 small onion, chopped, about 1/3 cup
1 - 1.5 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs, sliced
1 cup short-grain rice
4 cups chicken broth
2 tablespoons fish sauce
green onions, thinly sliced for garnish
fried garlic flakes, recipe below

Heat canola oil in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the ginger, onion, and garlic and cook until the onion is translucent, about 3 minutes. Add the chicken and cook for about 5 minutes. Add the fish sauce and let simmer for a few minutes, then add rice and simmer a few minutes more, stirring often. Add the chicken broth and bring to a boil. Lower heat and let simmer, stirring frequently until the chicken and rice are cooked through, about 25 to 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, make the fried garlic flakes: Smash and mince 3 large garlic cloves. Heat a few tablespoons of canola oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. Add the garlic and fry until a deep golden brown. Transfer the flakes to a paper towel and set aside.

Serve arroz caldo with fried garlic flakes and green onions sprinkled on top. Makes 6 servings.

Heath bar cookies, and holidays past.

2011-12-18T23:31:00.000-06:00

About this time last year, I made my first batch of cookies. A year ago! They were chocolate chip, and there was snow on the ground, and I made them in my parents' kitchen while they were out of town and Murdo and I were catsitting, and I think we stopped at Leno's before that to pick up some delicious sub sandwiches.

That same day, or maybe the day before, I had met Shanna and my sister at Honey Cafe for lunch, and Jenny brought us sugar cookies, and they wished me luck when I told them I was setting off on my maiden cookie bake.

The week before that, I wrote about this soup, which I've been making at least once a month, every month, since then. Looking back at that post, I can't believe how white it was outside. The only snow we've gotten around these parts lately has been a light dusting, some flurries, frosty car windows in the morning. It's not looking like we'll have a white Christmas this year, and as much as I complain about the snow when it does arrive, it's always a little disappointing looking out the window on Christmas morning to drab gray instead of bright white.

Two years ago, there were these eggs, and thoughts of giving up on my blog altogether. I'm so glad I didn't. Every year, the holidays come and go, and we often look back and remember the presents we got, and where Christmas dinner was held, and the flight delays and the hustle and bustle and the stressed-out shopping sessions. Looking back through past blog posts, and I'm reminded of those little in-between moments. The ones that might not stick out as defining that year's holiday season, but still helped make it what it was. The new recipes, the first batch of cookies, the mini-breakdowns and the comfort foods that saved the day. I'm happy they're still alive, here.

Today, there are these Heath bar cookies. Next year, when I'm looking back at this post, I can remember that I made these on the same weekend of my mom's birthday, when we went to Bob Chinn's and feasted on crab legs and steak, and my sister's belly was round and very much pregnant with the first boy of the family, and Murdo and I saw one of our favorite bands twice that week as Christmas gifts to each other.

Next year, my nephew will be here. The kittens will be cats. There will be soups and stews and slow cooker meals, and wrapping paper on the table, and candy canes and fires. I wonder if there will be snow on the ground.

Heath Bar Cookies (from Simply Recipes)

The original recipe, below, makes 6 dozen cookies. I saw that and thought, My goodness that is a lot of cookies. So I halved the recipe. Big mistake, guys. Make them all, and have no regrets.

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened

1 1/2 cups sugar

2 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 1/2 cups chopped Heath Bar pieces, or 8 (1.4 oz) bars

Combine flour, salt and baking soda in one bowl, and set aside. Beat together the butter and the sugar. Beat in eggs, one at a time, and then the vanilla. Add the flour mixture, a third at a time, to the butter sugar mixture until well blended. Mix in the chopped Heath bars. Chill dough for 30 minutes to an hour.

(I used a hand mixer to beat the butter, sugar, eggs and vanilla, then mixed the rest of the ingredients by hand with a spatula.)

Preheat oven to 350. Line cookie sheets with parchment paper and spoon the cookie dough onto the sheets, in small 1-inch diameter balls about 3 inches apart. Bake for 10 - 15 minutes, checking often during last 5 minutes, until cookies begin browning at the edges. (Original recipes says 10 - 12 minutes; I baked mine for 15.)

Remove from oven and let cool for a few minutes, then transfer to wire rack to cool completely. Makes 6 dozen cookies!

Thoughts, and cake.

2011-12-12T23:48:00.000-06:00

Is it too late to share some photos of Thanksgiving? Because guys, I'm not too sure what happened to November. It may have been the whiskey.

I started to write this post about Christmastime, but three paragraphs in, I decided I didn't feel like writing anymore. Delete.

That cake pictured above is a walnut coffee cake, made by my sister on Thanksgiving. You know those little crumb cakes with the sticky, sugary, crumbly toppings? Hostess, I think, or maybe Little Debbie. One of those. Anyway, that's this cake. Except better. Make it and eat it. You'll be happy.

I made this tonight. Over the weekend, there was split pea soup and sweet potato fries. A pork roast and mashed potatoes. Apple pie, gingerbread martinis.

When I got home from the gym today, the kittens had knocked over our only plant in the house, and Murdo was vacuuming up the dirt. Then the vacuum broke. The kittens are asleep on their chair now, in a pile. We'll worry about the broken vacuum tomorrow.

It's time for bed. Goodnight!

Head cold, Hot Toddy, November.

2011-11-12T11:45:00.001-06:00

Oh, November.

So far you've brought dark skies at 5 p.m., a sore throat, a stuffy head, a horrible cough, a lingering curry smell in the kitchen, and a waterlogged, three-month-old laptop that no longer types the way it should. I suppose that last part is my fault, after leaving a cup with an inch of water left out on the table, next to said laptop, where kittens could break the rules and knock the cup over, just like that.

This month, I am thankful for whiskey.

I know a few months back, as Pimm's Cup season started growing legs and taking off, I told you all that whiskey does bad things to good people. And it does, sometimes. But turns out, not me. And after trying a swallow of bacon-infused bourbon just a week or two ago, I decided I needed more of it (by "it," I mean bourbon, but more bacon is always good, too) in my life, and two bottles and half a container of honey later, I'm happily on board.

Mostly, I've been drinking whiskey in the form of hot toddys (see above re: sore throat, stuffy head, horrible cough), which is where the honey comes in. I discovered the hot toddy when I saw this post, and then this post, and combined the two recipes to create the perfect companion to a sore throat on a windy weeknight. Thing is, the first time I made it, I didn't actually have a sore throat, but after the first gulp I said, "This almost makes me wish I had a sore throat!" I retracted the statement immediately, telling Murdo I swear I didn't mean it, but he just shook his head in that "Be careful what you wish for" kind of way. Go figure.

There are a number of different recipes out there for hot toddys, the traditional involving simply hot water, lemon, honey and whiskey, but I took a cue from Tracy at Shutterbean and use ginger tea, instead. Here is how I make mine:

Hot Toddy
1 ginger tea bag
1.5 ounces bourbon
1 big lemon wedge
8 ounces hot water
1 tablespoon honey

Place tea bag in a mug. Add bourbon and lemon juice, and pour in hot water to fill the cup. Add honey and stir to combine. Let steep for a few minutes, then curl up on the couch with a book and enjoy.

Thanks for the whiskey, November. And while I'm at it, thank you for kittens, and peanut butter and honey sandwiches, and Saturday mornings in my fuzzy robe and new slippers, and for reminding me that it's not all broken laptops and head colds.

Film Friday, and some inspiration.

2011-10-28T07:36:00.000-05:00

All photos taken with a Canon A-1 with Fuji Pro 400H film

+ I recently discovered Ashley's blog, Not Without Salt, and especially liked her Film Fridays series. Not only because I love film, and because she shoots most of her film with a Canon A-1 (which I got my hands on months ago but only just started using, only to find out that there's something wrong with the circuits that drains the battery after just a roll and half of film, so I guess that's it for that), but also because her photography is just so beautiful. Take a look for yourself.

+ When I commented on Ashley's blog to gush and to ask for any tips, she responded with a link to Jonathan Canlas' work, including his e-book. I read it, and realized I know nothing about film or photography, and fell even more in love with film.

+ The photos above are from a photo walk I took at the Morton Arboretum with Maddie last Saturday. Maddie just recently moved (back) to Chicago and is getting (back) into film. Her blog makes me appreciate the little things that make a house or a condo or an apartment a home. It was great to meet her, and to talk with her about cameras and light meters and home and jobs and the Midwest and zombie TV shows and soup. And film.

+ Two weekends ago, I attended Shanna's wedding. I remember meeting Shanna for lunches when she still lived in Chicago, when I was planning my own wedding, and telling her all the little details that were both stressing me out and exciting me at the same time. When she got engaged, I was so thrilled for her, because I knew all the good stuff she was in for. Her wedding day was beautiful, and I still can't believe she managed to plan it all from a different state, in a matter of months, during which she also moved into a new home and redesigned her blog. A constant inspiration, and I wish her and Tim the best, best, best.

Happy Friday, all!

Dear Michigan.

2011-10-26T21:47:00.001-05:00

I will miss your sunshine
and your sparkly waters.
I'll be back next year.
Until then,
I'm taking your good company back with me.
I need them
to get through the winter.
love, Jacqui.

This change of seasons, and split pea soup.

2011-10-18T09:01:00.001-05:00

It rained today*, leaving the trees bare and the sidewalks littered with orange and yellow and brown. I stopped outside the office and looked down to see my brown boots against the fallen colors, the leaves plastered to the ground, and thought about what a nice photo that would make. I kept walking, my camera in my purse, telling myself I would regret not taking a picture later. But the image is still in my head, and maybe it will stay there through the winter, when I look down to snow, instead.

By the time I got home, one side of the sky was a fading pink, while the other was dark. The days are getting shorter, and I've been digging through my recipe files to find our cold-weather favorites. There was a baked penne with ground beef, tomato sauce and cheese. You can't really go wrong with cheesy baked pasta.

I'm snuggled up in my robe now, and the window is open. I can still hear the crickets outside, but they'll be gone soon, too. I'm looking forward to cozy fires, but don't want to rush into them. It's not time yet. I've been switching off between flats and boots, but I'm dreading the day I have to put on my winter coat. I've been making soup, and thinking about soup, and eating soup.

This change of seasons. Even though it's the same bittersweet feeling every year, I can't help but stand still, amazed, right in the middle of it. It's as if each day is a page turning, and I'm reading every word very carefully to soak it all up. I'm not quite ready for this chapter to end.

*I wrote this blog post sometime last week for Just Write, which I learned about through this lovely post from Kate. Since then, I read a book curled up next to our first fire of the season, crunched leaves on what was probably one of my last runs outside until spring, and ate soup almost every single day. Stay tuned for more Just Write posts on Tuesdays, I hope.

Split Pea Soup with Ham and Bacon (adapted from Gourmet)

4 slices bacon, chopped
1/2 onion, chopped
2 carrots, chopped
1 cup diced smoked ham
1/2 pound dried split peas (I used yellow)
2 cans (4 cups) chicken broth
1 cup water (plus 2-3 more, depending on desired thickness)
1 bay leaf
1-2 cups diced potatoes (Optional. I used 2 for a chunkier soup)
salt, to taste

In a large pot or dutch oven, cook bacon over medium-high heat, stirring, until crisp. Transfer to a paper towel lined plate to drain.

Discard all but 2 tablespoons bacon fat from pot. Add onions and carrots, stirring, until softened. Add diced ham and cook 1-2 minutes more. Add split peas, chicken broth, 1 cup of water and bay leaf and simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally. Add potatoes after about an hour. (I added mine way too early and they ended up very soft, but I didn't mind). Let simmer for an hour longer, for a total of 2 hours, adding water if the soup becomes too thick (I ended up adding 3 more cups of water).

When soup is at desired thickness, add crumbled bacon and serve. Makes 4 servings.

fall.

2011-10-10T21:06:00.000-05:00

Last week, I made soup with butternut squash

and completely gave in to fall.

It gets tough living in denial

that summer is gone

when all around there are trees ablaze with color

against bright blue skies.

Happy one year, with fried rice.

2011-09-25T21:25:00.000-05:00

A year ago today, my husband and I were married in Michigan. We danced in a big white tent that was set up in the backyard, on a hill, with a long staircase that led to a lake, where we said our vows before our family and friends.

All week, I've been looking back at this past year, trying to wrap it all up in newlywed memories. But Murdo and I lived together for two years before we were married, so with the exception of a name change and wedding bands, our first year wasn't that much different than the ones before.

And then I think about the future, and how different this first year will be from every year that follows. We'll look back and remember buying furniture for our tiny apartment, and the private rooftop terrace of our honeymoon suite. We survived a long, blizzard-y winter with cozy fires and breakfast for dinners. We adjusted to new work schedules, celebrated promotions, kept our fingers crossed and held our breaths. We said goodbye to a family member, and welcomed two more into our home.

He taught me how to change a tire. I taught him how to cook white rice.

The food of our first year of marriage has been, for the most part, fairly routine. I've tried a new recipe here and there, but only a handful have made it to the weekly rotation. We have our regulars, our trusted dishes, the ones that we eat over and over again, because they're quick and they're simple and we know what we like. When I was thinking of a recipe for our one year anniversary post, I couldn't think of anything new or exciting or special. All I could think about was fried rice.

We eat fried rice once a week here, nearly every week, always accompanied by a bag Trader Joe's frozen Mandarin orange chicken. It's nothing special, I know -- even borderline boring -- and that's the reason why I've been hesitant to even post a recipe for it. But it was the first dish I ever learned how to cook on my own, and it's the one that we can eat every week and never get sick of.

Murdo makes the white rice before I get home, and once I walk through the door and get settled and start cooking, I can have a meal on the table in 20 minutes. Twenty minutes! That is my kind of meal, and it's one that I know will follow us to our next home, and our first house, and one that we'll feed to our kids. It'll survive many more anniversaries to come, and every time I cook it, I hope I"ll remember this first year.

Happy one year anniversary, Murdo. I can't wait for more.

Fried Rice

After you read this recipe, you might notice that it breaks all the rules when it comes to what other recipes might say about "real" fried rice. For example, you're supposed to use leftover cooked rice instead of hot, just-cooked rice, otherwise you'll end up with soggy results. But I never have leftover white rice, and I'm not going to cook rice a day ahead of time for a dish that's supposed to take just 20 minutes to put together. This is supposed to be quick and easy, after all -- a meal you can put together when you realize there is nothing else in the house to eat.

So, I use fresh rice, and I don't think it gets soggy at all. I also use frozen vegetables, and I don't ever measure. I tried this time around, but completely forgot halfway through, so the soy sauce measurement is more of a guess. Like I mentioned before, this is the first dish I ever cooked on my own, and I didn't have a recipe then, either. The only thing I screwed up was the garlic, which I burned. By the second time I made fried rice, I was a pro. You will be, too.

1 cup of uncooked jasmine rice, or 2-3 cups of leftover cooked rice

vegetable or canola oil

3 big garlic cloves, smashed and minced

2 cups of frozen mixed vegetables (I use the bag with green beans, carrots, peas and corn, but feel free to use whatever you have on hand, or even fresh veggies if you're feeling ambitious)

~1/4 cup of soy sauce, divided

2 eggs, beaten

Optional Additions (I've cooked fried rice with most of these options, though nowadays, I'll only ever add sesame oil and green onions, and only when I have them on hand.)

shrimp

leftover cooked chicken, pork, ham or steak

sliced onions

sliced green onions

toasted sesame oil

oyster sauce

fish sauce

chopped kimchi

Cook rice according to package directions, or however you normally cook your rice. I rinse mine a few times and cook 1 cup of rice with 1 1/2 cups of water in a rice cooker. It usually takes about 20 minutes.

Heat oil over medium-high heat in a large, deep skillet. Add garlic and cook until sizzling and fragrant. (If you are cooking with meat, add now and cook until heated through or, if using shrimp, fully cooked, then remove and set aside.) Add veggies and cook a few minutes until just soft. Sprinkle with black pepper. (Here is where I would add a drizzle of toasted sesame oil, or oyster sauce, or fish sauce.) Add a few dashes of soy sauce, about 1/8 cup, and cook a few minutes more.

When the veggies are done, add the cooked rice and combine well. Add the rest of the soy sauce and adjust to taste. Once you've got the perfect amount of soy sauce to rice, push the rice to one side of the skillet and pour the egg on the other side, stirring until cooked but still soft. Lightly chop the egg with your spoon and combine with the rice. You can up the heat a bit here, and fry your rice a few minutes more, so that it's browned and even crispy, depending on how you like it. (Add your meat back at the very end.)

Serve with Trader Joe's orange chicken, or topped with a fried egg, for a perfect weeknight meal.

Wedding photos by Jen Lynne Photography

Kamote leaves and tomatoes.

2011-09-14T00:00:00.000-05:00

I should start with the tomatoes.

I've been eating them all summer long, from the moment I could get my hands on them at the farmers market, usually reaching for one as soon as I get home from work, or while I'm supposed to be cooking dinner. I'll cut up a tomato into wedges on a paper plate, sprinkling each piece generously with salt before cramming it into my mouth, only to start salting away at the next. I eat them like there will be no tomatoes tomorrow. Because, well, there won't be. Which is why I am telling you about them today -- it's September! The heat has passed, the summer storms are gone, my window is open and a cool breeze blows through, and the tomatoes will soon be gone.

Besides a Caprese salad back in June, and a few roasted batches, I haven't really been preparing any dishes with the tomatoes. Like I said, they go from bowl on the counter to paper plate to my mouth, and pretty quickly. But when my parents came over on Sunday to watch football (another sign that summer is on its way out) and eat meatball sandwiches and play with kittens, they brought over a bag of kamote leaves and tomatoes, just picked from their garden. And while kamote leaves and tomatoes can hardly be considered a dish with an actual recipe, it's one I had to finally share with you.

Kamote leaves, or kamote tops, are the young leaves of the kamote, a type of sweet potato. My parents grow them in their garden, harvesting the leaves every summer, but the ground eventually grows too cold for the sweet potatoes to actually grow. The leaves are widely used in Filipino dishes as a green to throw in soups and stews and salads, but I like them just lightly steamed, dressed with a dash of fish sauce, topped with summer ripe tomatoes, and often served with fried fish. Prepared this way, they are slightly salty, a hint of sour, with the freshness of the juicy tomatoes cutting through. While other kids grew up eating spinach, I was eating kamote leaves. They mean summer to me, which is why I asked my mom to bring them over on Sunday -- because I hadn't gotten my fill yet, and summer is almost over.

Luckily, there is still a bowl of tomatoes on the counter, and a Tupperware of steamed kamotes in the fridge. There are bags of fresh corn in the freezer, blanched and stripped off cobs picked straight from Murdo's family farms, ready for batches of winter chowder. I painted my toenails last night because I'm not quite done wearing flip flops. I can hear the crickets chirping outside. September is here, but I am still loving summer.

Before I get to the recipe, a quick announcement: Gojee.com, a great recipe website that brings the tastiness and beauty of some of the best food blogs out there together in one amazing space, is now featuring a handful of Happy Jack Eats recipes. You can sign up (it's free, people), type in the ingredients you crave, or have, or like, or dislike, and browse through a ton of recipes accompanied by gorgeous photos that pretty much jump out of your screen. Here's my lumpia, just to give you a peek. I'm really excited to be among a long list of really talented food bloggers!

Kamote Leaves with Tomatoes
Here is the unfortunate thing about this recipe, and something I probably should have researched before sharing, but didn't: I don't know where you can get kamote leaves. I get mine from my parents' garden. If you don't have any, you might be able to try your local Asian grocery store, or find an awesome Filipino family that might be growing some in their backyard. I will look into this further and update when I get the chance.* Otherwise, you are welcome to try this recipe with any other green, including spinach, Swiss chard, mustard greens or even dandelion greens, and let me know how it works out!

Another thing: I often find the stems can be a little hardy, and can almost feel like eating thick blades of grass. Feel free to trim off the thick stems, although I just leave them all on and bite the leaves off the stems once cooked.

*Update: The lovely commenter Kate let me know that she found kamote leaves at her local farmers market, where they are called sweet yam leaves. Thanks Kate!

A big bunch of kamote leaves or other green (I had a plastic grocery bag full, which was enough to fill my 5-quart Le Creuset to the brim twice)
Fish sauce
Fresh tomatoes, roughly chopped

Fill a clean sink with water and dump in the kamote leaves. Swish around and make sure all the dirt and grit is gone, draining and rinsing twice. Do not dry. Put a large pot over medium heat and fill with the wet leaves. Steam the leaves lightly, turning over with tongs to make sure the leaves on the bottom aren't overcooking. You want them just wilted. When done, transfer to a large dish and toss with a dash of fish sauce. Start with a tablespoon and adjust from there. Top with tomatoes.

Serve as a salad or alongside fish, steak or any meat.

Family photos, family dinners.

2011-09-11T21:42:00.000-05:00

I shot seven rolls of film in California and more than 600 digital images. There were photos of sunsets and rocky cliffs, city skylines and bridges, murals, houses, street signs. We hiked through Muir woods, climbing until we were nearly among the tree tops, the sunlight peeking through walls of redwoods. We drove Highway 1, swerving to the side of the road every so often to breathe in the stunning views. We soaked in a hot tub on a balcony that overlooked the ocean, watching the sun go down. Every moment was an opportunity to capture a world of beauty, the kind that makes you realize just how small you are, and just how much there is to see in this one country alone.

And yet, as I browse through the folders on my computer, I find myself going back to the same photos.

The ones of small, simple moments. The quiet connections that become so much more when the whole family gets together only once or twice a year. I don't get enough of these.

The nice part about it, though, is that every time we have a family gathering, we're also taking a vacation. This time, we -- or should I say, Mom (thanks, Mom!) -- rented a house in Dillon Beach, a small town in Marin County that seemed to live in a cloud for the entire week we were there, but no one seemed to mind that much because we could still see the ocean from every room in the house.

My favorite was the dining room.

That long table was made for family meals, comfort foods, loud conversations. Our dinners weren't fancy or elaborate, but tried-and-true recipes that we could prepare while chatting and drinking wine: baked mac and cheese, garlic-lemon shrimp and chicken kebabs, lentil soup with sausage and chard, grilled steak, spaghetti.

But when I look back on this vacation, and flip through the photos, it won't be the food that stands out. Instead, I'll remember my two-year-old niece and my husband playing with a cup of poker chips, and the way she first said our names ("Mo!" "Gack-ey!"). Pictionary around the fire, and puzzles in the morning. Absinthe. Ping pong, vinyl albums, A Song of Ice and Fire. Searching for mussels along the shore and getting soaked by the rising tide. Happy announcements. An early morning phone call about Tim getting sicker, and the ease with which my family changed their plans and went out of their way to help Murdo get on an earlier plane home.

Simple moments that mean so much more.

Grilled Chicken and Shrimp Kebabs with Lemon and Garlic (from Bon Appetit)

24 uncooked large shrimp, unpeeled, deveined (thawed if frozen)

12 chicken tenders
1/3 cup fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons finely grated lemon peel
2 garlic cloves, minced
2/3 cup olive oil

Thread 4 shrimp on each of 6 metal skewers; place on rimmed baking sheet. Loosely thread 2 chicken tenders on each of 6 metal skewers; place on another rimmed baking sheet.

Whisk lemon juice, lemon peel, and garlic in medium bowl; slowly whisk in oil. Season marinade with salt and pepper. Pour marinade over skewers, dividing equally. Let sit for 30 minutes.

Prepare barbecue (medium-high heat). Grill chicken until cooked through, about 5 minutes per side. Grill shrimp until pink on outside and opaque in center, about 4 minutes per side. Remove kebabs from grill; serve immediately.

Kitties, California and oysters.

2011-08-31T22:25:00.003-05:00

First: Thank you all so much for your warm-hearted comments on my last post. It has been nearly two weeks since we lost such a big part of our little family, and even more since I last held Tim in my arms. Moving on gets easier with each day. Writing that post helped.

The first few days without Tim in the apartment were brutal. We kept catching random items out of the corner of our eyes and mistaking them for him, perched in his favorite spots, waiting patiently for attention. We missed his greetings when we walked through the door and the warmth of his fur when he slept. By this past Saturday, we had visited four different animal shelters in the area, trying our best to be patient and find kittens who belonged in our family -- who could make our home complete again. We didn't want to rush into anything.

On Monday, we found them and brought them home.

So, without further ado, please meet Omar (left) and Marlo (right). They've only been around for a few days, and already I know that Marlo loves to eat (girl after my own heart) and Omar loves to fight (he's little but ferocious, ferocious but sweet). They're our babies, and we're so excited that we get to love them for the rest of their lives.

Second: California. With all the kitty business going around here lately, I haven't had time to tell you about our trip! This changes right now. Starting with the oysters.

I haven't always been crazy about oysters. In fact, I still wouldn't consider myself crazy about them at all. But I like them a lot, and that's something I couldn't say after trying them raw just a couple of times before. Before now, I thought they were just OK. Good, but nothing special. But the way some people eat them like they're slurpy diamonds plucked from the sea -- my dad, for example, who, if offered to share a plate of a dozen raw oysters with his daughter, will eat almost all of them if she's not careful, and will likely not save the last one for her -- I really did want to love them.

I don't know what made these different. Maybe it was because of where and how we ate them: At the Marshall Store in Tomales Bay, slurping them off the half shell over wooden counters looking over the blue skies and water, with pelicans flying not far overhead. We bought fresh oysters from the Tomales Bay Oyster Company off Highway 1, and drove them back along the windy road to our rental beach house to eat them hot off the grill with beer, bread and cheese. I think these are the ways oysters are meant to be eaten.

If you're not sure about oysters raw, then get them on the grill. And if you're going to grill them, be sure to add a generous douse of olive oil and garlic. That's the way my brother-in-law, Matt, got Murdo (who had tried the oysters raw at the Marshall Store and decided they weren't for him) to love oysters so much, he started counting the remaining shells on the grill to make sure he got his fair share.

Matt used this recipe from Simply Recipes, skipping the parsley and red chili flakes and adding extra garlic. He used an oven mitt and a knife to pry the shells off, just after they started to bubble and open on the grill. We spooned olive oil and garlic into the shells, then returned them to the grill to finish cooking.

And then we feasted. Because that's what makes oysters special, really -- the feast, and the surroundings, and the company you keep through it all. I get it now.

Tim.

2011-08-23T21:13:00.000-05:00

Last Friday, we packed up our bags and headed to California for a family vacation. Before taking off, we dropped off a very sick kitty at Murdo's parents' house, with instructions for how to administer his subcutaneous fluids and how much to feed him. We brought his scratch box and toy mice, his blanket and his treats. We set up a comfy spot for him in the closet of Murdo's old bedroom, with his water dish nearby. When I said goodbye to him right before we left, I was hoping it wouldn't be the last time. But I knew it was a possibility.

Tim had been suffering from chronic renal failure for more than two years. His kidneys were no longer working like they should've been, and after a week spent at the vet's office two summers ago hooked up to an IV and barely eating, we all thought he was going to die. Although he lived, and fought, and showed us just how strong of a cat he could be each day for the past 25 months, the last few have been very rough on him. Just a few weeks ago, he was diagnosed with anemia, making him very cold and weak. He wobbled when he walked. He didn't always make it to the litter box. There were good days and bad, and then, more bad days than good. When we left him last Friday, he was still getting worse.

We were supposed to be gone for nine days, and we knew it would be hard on him. We thought he would make it, that he would wait for us. After eight days, we knew he was hanging on by just a thread. Murdo took an early flight back to Chicago on Saturday afternoon, and Tim died in his arms that night. He was 15 years old.

We keep saying that he was waiting for Murdo. That he was waiting for him to come home. He was too weak to walk or even lift his head at that point, but when Murdo got there and picked him up, Tim started purring. Murdo packed up his things and brought him back to our apartment, and after carrying him through the door, Tim took a few sniffs and knew he was home. His head went limp, and he was gone.

He died in Murdo's arms. He knew he wasn't alone or abandoned. He was surrounded by familiar smells and wrapped up in a loving heartbeat. In the same arms that held him 15 years before during a near-death experience as a kitten, rushing to the emergency clinic due to an allergic reaction. He lived through that, too, and spent the rest of his life as Murdo's best friend, companion, family member, and for the last six years, mine as well. He was a well-loved cat, and he lived a good, long life. With warm blankets and long naps. Scraps of lunch meat in the kitchen and cat nip on his toys. Late-night hunts for packaged bread. Lazy afternoons in his favorite grassy spot. Lots of lap time, and chest time, and spooning time. He was the kind of cat who even cat-haters loved. Thinking about these things makes it easier.

The little things that he left behind, however, don't make it easy at all. I came home on Sunday night to an apartment that felt incomplete. His food dish is still sitting out by the hallway, and every time I look at it, I see him there, waiting to be fed. I see him sitting outside the bathroom door when I'm getting ready in the morning. I see his sweet face looking up from the floor next to me as I write this. He's still here with me, and while I never want him to leave, this presence he left behind makes my heart ache.

When I finish writing this, I will get up and clean his food dish. Tomorrow, I will gather up and wash the towels we kept on his chair when he could no longer control his bladder. We will return the remaining unopened cans of his kidney diet food to the vet. We will keep our ears and eyes open for a pair of kittens, a brother and a sister duo, who will help make our little family complete once again. We will move on, and we will always love him.

Tim is buried in his favorite spot in Murdo's old backyard. There is a mound of rocks covering his grave. Below, he sleeps curled with his toy mice -- one to lay with, and one to play with. And there is a jar, with a piece of paper on which Murdo wrote:

R.I.P. Tiny Tim Yahsuh MacKenzie (Yah) the Unblinking; Barn Born and Barely Housebroken, the Lord of the Back Yard, Converter of Cat Haters, Survivor of State College and Constant Companion, Him Who Was Not To Be Denied. Here lies the best cat that ever lived, and an even better friend. Loved by many, forgotten by none. We will meet again.

Two years ago, Death stared Tim in the face. He never blinked, but one day we all must close our eyes.

Tiny Tim
July 1996 - August 20, 2011

lately.

2011-08-19T17:55:00.000-05:00

I'm in California.
Here's what I've been looking at
and eating
and soaking in
all week.
I'll be back next week
with much, much more.
Hello! And happy Friday!

Hot dogs, kimchi and Chicago-style.

2011-08-09T21:46:00.000-05:00

Sometime late last month, I can't recall the exact day, I started getting sick of hot dogs. This is probably a common occurrence come August for most people, when summer is starting to wind down and we look at the calendar with wide eyes and start frantically filling our weekends with visits to the lake house, the fair, the beach.

But for me, hot dogs aren't even just a summer food. I eat them and love them year-round, even in winter, when tomatoes are a no-no (I prefer my dog dragged through the garden, in true Chicago style) and the grill is covered in snow. I'll gladly throw a couple of hot dogs in the microwave, quickly chop up onion and tomatoes, bust out the pickles and mustard, and have dinner on the table in less than 10 minutes. Which is why we've been eating hot dogs once a week, every week around here lately, and probably why I've started getting sick of them, and why I still pencil them into our weekly menu anyway.

So when hot dog night rolled around last week, instead of the usual Chicago-style, I opted for something different: kimchi. Yes, I put kimchi on my hot dog. And I liked it. And I'd eat another one, too.

Some of you may have heard of a kimchi hot dog, and many of you probably haven't. I had never heard of it until my friend Diana gave me a recipe for kimchi hot dogs, inspired by a company called Asia Dog in New York City, that called for homemade spicy kimchi relish, spicy ketchup, jalapeno mustard and topped with crushed potato chips.

Since I already had kimchi in the fridge, and I didn't have any jalapenos, I veered away from Di's recipe. Instead, I chopped up the store-bought kimchi, mixed some plain yellow mustard with Sriracha hot sauce, and piled the toppings onto an organic, grass-fed, all-beef dog nestled in a poppy seed bun. I ate two of them.

If you've never had kimchi before, I wouldn't recommend putting it on a hot dog as your first experience. Get to a Korean BBQ joint, preferably with a real Korean if you know one, and try the kimchi with galbi or bulgogi or both. If you like meat, you'll like Korean food. If you like spicy, pickled vegetables, you'll like kimchi. If you like kimchi, you'll like kimchi hot dogs.

If you don't like kimchi, I understand. I spent a good part of my childhood associating kimchi with stinky, spoiled cabbage. I'd scrunch my nose and make a face whenever my parents opened a jar. But tastes change, and thank goodness for that.

My taste for the Chicago-style hot dog, however, will never change. I may be sick of it for now, but I'll love it always.

My Chicago-style Hot Dogs
The traditional Chicago-style hot dog, according to Vienna Beef, includes the following toppings: yellow mustard, bright green relish, chopped onion, tomato wedges, one pickle spear, sport peppers, celery salt, one all-beef frank and a poppy seed bun. I skip the relish and celery salt and sometimes eat sport peppers, but only on the side. Below is my version/assembly method. Although I don't include all the traditional ingredients, I think the tomatoes, pickle and no-ketchup rule qualify mine as still completely Chicago-style.

1 all-beef frank*
1 poppy seed hot dog bun
plain yellow mustard
finely chopped white onion, as much as you can handle
2 tomato wedges
1 Claussen kosher dill pickle spear**

Cook your frank according to package directions. You can steam it, grill it or even microwave it. Nestle the frank in the bun, then squirt 2-3 fine lines of mustard on one side of the bun, near the bottom of the frank. Sprinkle a handful of chopped white onion over the frank, so that the majority of the onion is on the mustard-less side of the bun. Insert the tomato wedges on the mustard side of the bun. Top with pickle spear.

Makes 1 hot dog.

Kimchi Hot Dogs
You can buy kimchi at most Asian grocery stores. Some supermarkets may also carry kimchi -- check the refrigerated section where they keep the won ton wrappers, tofu, etc. Or you can make your own kimchi with recipes from David Lebovitz or Steamy Kitchen.

1 all-beef frank*
1/2 cup kimchi, chopped
1 hot dog bun
1 tablespoon Sriracha hot sauce
2 tablespoons plain yellow mustard

For the Sriracha mustard, mix the Sriracha and mustard in a small bowl. Adjust according to tastes.

Cook frank according to package direction. Nestle frank in hot dog bun. Spread Sriracha mustard on one side of the bun. Top with as much kimchi as you like.

Makes 1 kimchi dog. Don't be scared.

*Get a good quality, all-beef frank. I recommend Vienna Beef or Hebrew National, although for the kimchi dogs I used Applegate 100% organic grass-fed and finished all-beef franks. They're a bit more expensive but oh. so. good.

**Must be Claussen. No other store-bought pickle compares.

I am a writer.

2011-08-04T21:47:00.000-05:00

Some days, the thoughts just flow out of my fingers, and it's just so easy, and it feels so good.

I've noticed that this often happens when I'm writing comments on other people's blogs -- that I can organize my own thoughts when I'm responding to theirs. That it's the conversation that gets me going. Writing can't just be about only the thoughts in my own head, after all. If that were the case, I might as well be talking to myself. I think that's what makes the blogging community such an inspirational force.

Other times, many times, I struggle. I stare at the blank page. I type words, I read over them, I delete.

Sometimes I write because I feel like I have to.

Molly posted some thoughts about writing today -- about how we do what we do, and avoid what we do, and feel better when we know others do and feel the same as we do -- and they really struck a chord with me. So much so that I started writing an email to her in response. And a paragraph or two in, I realized that I was doing it. I was finally writing what I've been wanting to get out for what seems like ages. I decided that in addition to sending her that email, I'd post it here, too. It might just be an email, but there are words on the page, and they're mine.

(You can read Molly's post here.)

Thanks for writing this post, Molly, and for sharing your thoughts on writing. I was just thinking about my own writing yesterday, and if it's really what I'm supposed to be doing, since it's not really something I particularly want to do every day. My day job is to write content for clients every day, and I'm good at it, but it gets old sometimes. A lot of times. Lately, I'd much rather be holding a camera in my hands, letting my pictures speak for me, just staying silent in the background, with no words to put on the page. Does this mean that writing is just my work, but not really my passion? I almost came to the conclusion that I don't love writing.

But reading your post, and thinking about it more, makes me realize that writing is just a part of who I am, and always has been. There is no escaping that. It's what I do. It's what I know. It's why I keep a blog. It's why I collect journals and fill them with scribbles just to stay sane. And we don't always love everything about ourselves all the time, but that doesn't make it any less a part of who we are.

So I'll keep writing. Of course I'll keep writing. What was I thinking? I don't think I'm capable of stopping. It's what I do. It's who I am. And every so often, I have to remind myself that being a writer is all I've ever wanted to be, and now I can finally say that I am.

Thank you for helping me find those words.

Jacqui

film.

2011-07-27T21:38:00.000-05:00

yesterday
i felt the urge to shoot some film
but i couldn't find a single roll
in the house.
i need to change this.

July, visitors, and a frittata.

2011-07-12T21:48:00.000-05:00

Today is July 12. July 12! Just like that, June is gone and July is almost halfway over. Where is the summer going?

Well, mine has been here.

There have been days spent at the park and in the city. Eating hot dogs and walking bare foot. There have been festivals and lake houses, gardens and beaches. I fell asleep in the sun at the park district pool. Painted toe nails, cupcakes, gin and tonics. Strawberries, raspberries, watermelon. Deep-fried turkey and beer. Tonight, I took a jog in the rain.

Summer means visitors are dropping by in full force. My friend Di was in town from New York, and we ate our way through Chicago on a day when it was supposed to rain but didn't, and was smoldering hot as it typically gets around these parts, and we cursed ourselves for wearing jeans instead of skirts.

My family -- a sister, a brother-in-law, and two little nieces -- are currently in town from California. I braided my niece's hair, and she taught me how to play Angry Birds on an iPad. We set up a kiddie pool and a sandbox in my parents' yard. My sister made a tuna and white bean salad that I'd like to share with you, but not today, and my brother helped me make sure the frittata you see here didn't burn to an eggy crisp.

This frittata involves smoked salmon, mushrooms and leeks. The leeks were a gift from friends in Houston, Nick and Marli, who came over last week with bags of fresh vegetables just pulled from the ground at Marli's family farm. They were still covered in dirt. Nick and Marli are recently engaged, and they're planning on roasting their own farm-raised pigs and serving their own farm-grown vegetables at the wedding. They even asked me to take the photos, which is so exciting and flattering and crazy all at the same time.

So, it's been busy so far this summer. I haven't quite had the time or the energy to find a new recipe, make detailed grocery lists, or even follow cooking instructions. I was at my parents' house when I found myself staring at those lovely leeks, wondering how to feed a party of 6 with them. Frittata just made sense, and so I jumbled together various online recipes, dug around in the fridge, and started guessing my way through the process. What follows is what I did, and what I think will work for just about any ingredients. It's easy, and light, and is perfect for serving to those out-of-town guests who find their way back every summer.

Leek, Mushroom and Smoked Salmon Frittata

Preheat oven to 350 F.

Slice up 2 leeks (white and light green parts only), a small package of mushrooms, and as much smoked salmon as you can handle (I added too much, but it was still tasty). Smash, peel and mince 3 garlic cloves.

Beat 9-10 large eggs in a bowl with a glug of milk, salt and pepper. I wanted to add cream cheese, but only had cream cheese spread, and added it anyway. It didn't make a difference.

Heat butter in a large cast-iron skillet on medium-high. Add leeks, mushrooms and garlic. Cook until tender. Lower heat to medium-low and add the egg mixture and salmon. Stir a bit to spread the salmon evenly, then let cook for 10 minutes or so, until the bottom of the egg has set.

Put skillet in the oven and bake for about 25 minutes, checking every so often during the last 5 minutes. Pull out when the edges are golden brown and the top is set. Serve warm or at room temperature, with a refreshing salad.

Thanks for the bacon jam!

2011-06-26T12:24:00.000-05:00

I have not been cooking much lately. And by lately, I mean for weeks. Months, even. I've been microwaving a lot, and assembling sandwiches, but even that second part is a lie because Murdo has been assembling sandwiches, and I've just been eating them. The inspiration to cook anything new just hasn't been striking, even with all the vegetables and fruits coming into season. The most creative I get in the kitchen nowadays involves me standing in front of the open fridge, wondering what to spread on this sleeve of crackers. The other day, it was spicy mustard. Before that, kimchi. I keep telling myself this rut will pass. I hope I'm right.

Until then, I'm perfectly happy pigging out on other people's delicious creations, and sharing them with you. For example, bacon jam.

A few weeks ago, our friends Nolan and Catie had us over for a barbecue. There were pulled pork sandwiches, with pork that had been slowly smoking overnight in Nolan's garage.

There were baked beans, cooked under the smoker so that the pork fat dripped onto the beans and when you took a bite, it was so rich and flavorful that one bite was enough, really, to know that they were the best beans ever.

There was homemade blue cheese coleslaw and tomatillo salsa. Cheese, prosciutto, crackers. And bacon jam.

The bacon jam wasn't really jam consistency, but more like a thick spread, with hits of salty bacon that told you yes, you're spreading bacon on a cracker, with a hint of sweetness that kept you coming back for more. I do like bacon jam. And they're much better on crackers than kimchi.

You can find the recipe that Catie used here. Thanks for the awesome food and hospitality, guys!

I drink your (avocado) milkshake.

2011-06-09T22:05:00.000-05:00

I vaguely remember eating my first avocado. I was grade-school age, standing in the kitchen, next to the fridge, and my dad had presented me with a bowl of something creamy, sweet and refreshing. It was richer than any ice cream I'd ever had, with a mild buttery taste that lingered on my tongue. It was a smashed avocado, mixed with milk, sugar and ice.

I grew up associating avocado with a dessert, and nothing else. When I discovered avocado in guacamole, sandwiches, sushi and salads, and learned that it wasn't "normal" to combine sugar with avocado, I put the memory of that dessert in the back of my mind to become just that: a memory.

Turns out, in many places around the world, the Philippines included, avocado is an ingredient in more sweet dishes than savory. No one ever thinks to throw an avocado into a blender with ice cream and milk. Which is a shame, because if you love avocado, you should be loving it in all forms.

Today, I'm here to bring avocado desserts back into my life, and to introduce it to yours, in the form of a milkshake.

It's easy. Throw a small handful of ice, a half a scoop of vanilla ice cream, milk, a teaspoon of sugar and a ripe avocado into a blender, and blend. There you have it. The flavor is subtle -- not too overpowering, but there. The after taste is the best part, with a creamy avocado taste lingering on the tongue, just like that first time.

This shake is even better when enjoyed on a hot, humid day, with your feet propped up, and nothing to worry about except spoiling your dinner.

Avocado Milkshake (adapted from Allrecipes.com)
This is a very loose recipe, and should be adapted to your tastes. I even thought that the final product was a little to vanilla-y for me, so next time, I might skip the ice cream altogether. It won't be as thick, but I'm willing to take that risk. Plain yogurt might also make a good substitute.

4-5 cubes of ice
1/2 cup of milk
1/2 scoop of vanilla ice cream (about 1/4 cup)
1 teaspoon sugar
1 ripe avocado, pitted and sliced

Throw everything into a blender. Blend until it reaches desired consistency. Pour into a glass, take outside and enjoy on a hot summer day. Makes 1 (small) milkshake. Drink it up!

Summer, and turkey burgers.

2011-06-05T20:22:00.001-05:00

Summer.

Summer!

That's really all I have to say. Well, except this: Add these turkey burgers to your summer grilling menu. Seriously. They are juicy, and flavorful, and even Murdo said he liked them, and he's one of those "Give me beef or give me death" kind of guys. We ate them last weekend in Michigan, when cool weather and rain forced us indoors, and Monday brought sunny blue skies and a quick boat ride and a slight sun burn, and summer finally, finally said hello.

Happy Summer, folks!

Mar-a-Lago Turkey Burgers (from Oprah.com)
Laurie, my sister-in-law, got this recipe from her mother-in-law, and starting making them last summer in Michigan, and hasn't really stopped. Thanks for the recipe, Laurie!

1/8 cup canola oil
1/4 cup thinly sliced green onions
1/2 cup finely chopped celery
3 Granny Smith apples, peeled and diced
2-3 cloves garlic, smashed and minced
4 pounds ground turkey breast
2 Tbsp. salt
1 Tbsp. black pepper
2 tsp. Tabasco® chipotle pepper sauce
Juice of 1 lemon
1/2 bunch parsley, finely chopped
1/4 cup Major Grey's Chutney, pureed

Heat canola oil in a large skillet, and saute the garlic, green onions, celery and apples until tender. Transfer to a plate or bowl and let cool.

In a large mixing bowl, add ground turkey, sauteed items and remaining ingredients. Using hands, mix until well combined. Shape into eight 8-ounce burgers. Refrigerate for 2 hours.

Season the turkey burgers with salt and pepper. Place on a preheated, lightly oiled grill. Grill each side for 7 minutes until meat is thoroughly cooked. Let sit for 5 minutes.

Makes 8 yummy burgers.

I want a Pimm's Cup.

2011-05-17T20:33:00.001-05:00

Last night, I fell in love with a bottle of gin.

I've had love affairs with vodka and spiced rum in the past, the former ending not so pleasantly, and the latter currently in the stages of "I'm just not that into you anymore."

Beer remains a constant companion, but usually in small doses, preferably served with a slice of something citrusy and a bag of pork rinds, and enjoyed outside, in the heat, on a porch.

I've stayed far away from whiskey, seeing with my own two eyes how it does bad things to good people. And a bottle of gin, when consumed almost in its entirety by a certain houseguest, has been known to lead to broken apple corers and a urine-stained bath mat.

Despite that last unfortunate experience, I bought a bottle last night. Technically, the first actual bottle I got was over the weekend, after I suddenly declared "I want a Pimm's Cup" while driving home from the mall with Murdo on Saturday, and because he never opposes a good drink (or any drink, really), he took me to the liquor store shortly thereafter.

Pimm's No. 1 Cup is a British gin-based liqueur flavored with hints of herbs and citrus. I first read about it over at Orangette, and while I wasn't too interested in the drink recipe itself, I liked the way the bottle looked and the way Pimm's sounded, so I stored the name away for later. Then I heard someone order a Pimm's Cup in an episode of "Boardwalk Empire," and Murdo remembers the drink from an episode of "Californication" (yes, we watch a lot of TV), and if the drink managed to make its way from the Atlantic City Prohibition era to Venice Beach, California, circa 2009, well, I wanted to try it. This recent post over at Shutterbean sealed the deal.

The recipe on the back of the bottle mixes Pimm's with ginger ale and a lemon twist, and it's a very good drink -- crisp, refreshing, tasty. You can't even really tell you're drinking alcohol, and not in the way that can get you in trouble, but in the way that there actually isn't that much alcohol in the drink to begin with. Which is my main problem with it.

So last night I bought a bottle of Tanqueray, and I added the gin with the Pimm's, and had two glasses of the stuff, and then slept very, very well. The shot of gin adds an extra kick that says, "Oh yeah, this is a grownup drink," at least to me anyway, the girl who has been ordering Captain and Diets for so long it's kind of embarrassing.

I don't have a photo of the drink to share with you. Sorry. But I figure you already know what a cocktail looks like, so I don't feel that bad. Instead, I'll leave you with these photos that have nothing to do with cocktails, and everything to do with the Filipino food (adobo ribs, fresh lumpia, beef mechado, blue crabs) and blackberry almond tart (made by Jenny) that I ate over the weekend with my family. Yeah, it was a good weekend.

But first, the recipe:

Pimm's Cup
This is more like a combination of Pimm's Cup and Pimm's Turbo, which mixes Pimm's No. 1 with gin and lemonade. But Pimm's Cup is so much more fun to say. You can find more Pimm's recipes here.

1.5 ounces Pimm's No. 1 Cup
1.5 ounces Tanqueray gin
7-Up or ginger ale
lemon slice

Fill a tall glass halfway with ice. Add the Pimm's and the gin. Fill the rest of the glass with 7-up or ginger ale. Garnish with a lemon slice. Drink it up. Repeat as needed.

Balsamic chicken pasta, and reflections.

2011-05-01T11:41:00.000-05:00

Right now, all I can think about is how much I love this open window next to me. It's about 8:00 in the evening, and the sun just went down, but there is light enough to see the trees outside, with their still just-budding leaves, finally brought back to life with a jolt of sunshine after what seems like weeks of rain. There is a breeze -- not too strong, or cold, or warm, but just the right temperature that begs for an open window. I have missed this.

I can hear the cars going by, each one slowing at the speed bump located right in front of my porch. I wonder where those cars are going. Something I've always wondered about, mostly on the road, in the passenger's seat, looking out the window and watching the cars pass. In every car, there is someone on their way home, or going somewhere new, or somewhere familiar, but somewhere. It's kind of the same as looking into open, lit windows at night, and wondering what stories are playing out inside. The people passing by tonight can look through my lit window and see our kitchen. There is half an onion in a Ziploc bag on the counter, along with a few pairs of sunglasses, a yellow dish towel, a graphic novel, a can opener, and small bottle of ear medication for the cat. I am too lazy to straighten up right now. I've been lazy all day.

I wasn't planning on writing, since I didn't have any ideas for what to write about, or what to cook. I took a nap in the middle of the day. I woke up and felt I needed to post something. To make something, and to write something. I had an hour and a half or so left of good natural light for taking photos, so I went in the kitchen and got to work.

I made Shanna's balsamic chicken, not really sure what I would do with it once ready, but it's a recipe I've had bookmarked ever since she posted it nearly a year and a half ago. Has it really been that long? Shanna's engaged now (!!!) and currently planning a wedding, and I thought about that while I cooked the chicken, and about engagements and wedding planning and being a bride. How it really is a roller coaster ride, with scary drops and thrilling anticipation and an exhilaration that continues to cling even after it's all over. I'm excited for her.

When the chicken was nearly done, I put a pot of water on the stove to boil. There were mushrooms and fresh parsley in the fridge. Perfect. I made balsamic chicken pasta with mushrooms, and took photos of the final plate on my porch. It was good.

It's about 9:00, and the window is still open. The birds have stopped chirping, and there is still a car that passes every few minutes, on its way to somewhere. One of those will be Murdo soon, coming home from work. I can't see the trees anymore. Instead, just reflections of my kitchen in the window, the refrigerator door covered with photos of nieces and cats, Post-Its with addresses and notes, Burger King coupons, wedding prints. And me, writing.

I've been needing to write something. Getting thoughts on the page can be such a long sigh of relief. I feel better now.

Balsamic Chicken Pasta with Mushrooms
(adapted from AllRecipes, via Food Loves Writing)
This pasta is light, but flavorful. I'm not usually big on parsley, but I think it's really important here. Also, some people are weird about reusing marinade, but I think if you boil it just enough, the bacteria gets killed and it's safe to eat. I ate it, and I'm still alive.

1/3 cup balsamic vinegar
1/2 cup chicken broth
2 tablespoons sugar
3 cloves garlic, smashed and minced
dried Italian seasonings
salt and pepper
1/2 large onion, sliced
olive oil
4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, chopped
1/2 pound angel hair pasta
handful of baby bella mushrooms, about 4 oz, sliced thick
fresh parsley, chopped

Whisk together the first 5 ingredients in a bowl, along with salt and pepper, and add the chicken. Let marinate for at least 20 to 30 minutes.

Heat the olive oil in a large pan over medium-high heat. Add the onions and cook a few minutes until just translucent and soft. Remove the chicken from the marinade (reserve the marinade) and add to the pan. Cook the chicken until they start to brown and are no longer pink inside, about 7 minutes per side, stirring the juices around ever few minutes.

Add the rest of the marinade to the skillet. Cook for about 5 minutes, bringing the sauce to a boil and letting thicken slightly. Remove the chicken from the pan and set aside in a serving dish, and let the sauce thicken to a consistency that makes you happy. Pour sauce over the chicken, cover dish loosely with foil and set aside.

Meanwhile, bring a pot of water to a boil and cook the pasta according to directions. Drain and set aside.

In the same pan used for the chicken, heat olive oil in the pan. Add mushrooms and cook until browned, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat and add cooked pasta to the pan. Add a few scoops of the chicken to the pan, along with some sauce, and toss to combine. Reserve the rest of the chicken for another use. Serve pasta with fresh parsley.

Makes about 2 servings. Or, you could double the pasta and the mushrooms, use all of the chicken/sauce, and make 4 servings.

updates.

2011-04-26T22:04:00.000-05:00

on saturday, we went to a greek restaurant
ate lots of lamb and seafood
and finished off the evening with blueberry pie and beatles rock band.
also, there have been muffins this week
with banana and chocolate chips.
we had one warm day at the start of the month
that involved much porch sitting.
and asparagus. there has been asparagus.

april is almost over! i'm ready for those may flowers...

White chocolate oatmeal cookies, and parasailing.

2011-04-20T07:32:00.000-05:00

In Mexico, we went parasailing.

I was kind of surprised that I did. Not that I was afraid, or that it didn't interest me, or that I'm not the adventurous type. (Although that last one probably is the real reason, but let's just say it's not, because otherwise I'd have to admit that I'm boring. Again.) No, I was just perfectly happy with my feet planted nice and pretty right on the ground, poolside. After all, when you're making it a point to laze about on your honeymoon, any interruption is just that: an interruption. I wasn't feeling it.

Until. I looked up, and saw the colorful parachute sailing through the sky, and I snapped a picture, and I decided, "Yes. I want to do that. It's my birthday." (For the record, it really was my birthday. That's not just something I say when I want to do something.)

So we went parasailing, and I'm glad we did. Just like I'm glad I made these oatmeal cookies.

I know, I know, parasailing and oatmeal cookies? Kind of a stretch. But hear me out. I'm not a huge fan of oatmeal cookies. I've never been a fan of oatmeal at all -- I'm more of an eggs-and-bacon, chocolate-chip-cookies kind of girl. I'll eat oatmeal cookies, and I'll even like them, a little. But not so much to crave them, or request them, or buy them, and certainly not enough to rush home from work and make them myself, even before I cook dinner, like I did one day a couple of weeks ago.

There was this blog post, though, and it was from Smitten Kitchen, and, well. I looked at the photos, I read the reviews, and I just decided. "Yes. I want to make these cookies. And then eat them."

So I made oatmeal cookies.

These aren't really like your typical chewy oatmeal cookies with raisins or walnuts or dried fruits. They're more like a cross between a sugar cookie and an oatmeal cookie. They're crisp and sweet, with a slight oat-y bite. There are white chocolate chips involved, though they lend more to the sweetness rather than the texture. They're the kind of cookie that you bite once and decide that "Yes, we've got a keeper."

Some decisions are just easy like that.

Head over to Smitten Kitchen for the recipe. Deb says to use a good quality white chocolate bar to avoid the "artificial" taste of white chocolate chips, but I'm just not that cool enough to bake with fancy chocolate, at least not yet. So I used Ghirardelli white chocolate chips, which worked out fine. Deb also suggests fleur de sel or Maldon flaky sea salt for sprinkling on top of the cookies, but all I had was Morton kosher salt, which worked out fine, too. So there, now you have no excuses not to make these.

A gentle nudge, and potato soup.

2011-04-05T22:09:00.002-05:00

I think Kristin had the right idea when she wrote this post, politely shooing winter out the door with a list of things she'd miss about the long, cold season. With that in mind, I figured I'd write about soup today, before the warm weather finally hits (soon? please?) and the only soup we'll be eating starts with corn (fresh, sweet, local, summer) and ends with chowder.

But first, potato soup -- one that I made for the first time in November, when I was still so excited for soups, and there was a feeling of holidays in the air to mask the impending doom of winter. The photos have been sitting in my Flickr stream since then, waiting patiently for their turn, but I just never got around to sharing the recipe until now. I guess I thought it wasn't worth a blog post. After all, it's just an everyday potato soup.

But I've made it a handful of times since then, and the soup made a comfortable home in our weekly rotation of meals. It helped us get through the winter, and that's certainly nothing to just shrug over.

There's not much to it, really. You even use the microwave to cook the potatoes. The original recipe also tells you to cook the bacon in the microwave, which I tried, but decided that the saved time isn't worth it. Bacon should be pan-fried, period. You peel the skins from the cooked potatoes and throw the potatoes into a pot with garlic, onions, broth, flour and milk, and then mash it all up. The results, once you've made up your bowl with bacon bits, green onions and cheese, is a baked potato in the form of a soup. If it's still chilly in your neck of the woods, you may still have time to make this. If it's warm where you are, well. I'm jealous.

So now that you know about the soup (scroll down for the recipe), I'll leave you with some photos of here, lately. Maybe they'll also help give winter that gentle nudge it needs to get out of here already.

Loaded Potato Soup (from Cooking Light)

4-6 medium red or gold potatoes
2 teaspoons olive oil
1/2 cup chopped onion
3 cloves garlic, smashed and minced
1 1/4 cups chicken broth
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 cups milk, divided
1/4 cup sour cream
4 bacon slices, chopped
shredded cheddar cheese
sliced green onions
seasoned salt
salt and pepper

Pierce potatoes with a fork, place on a plate and microwave on high for 13 minutes or until tender. Cut in half and let cool.

Meanwhile, cook the chopped bacon in a skillet until brown and crisp. Set aside on a plate lined with paper towel.

Heat oil in a saucepan over medium-high heat. Add garlic and onions and cook until translucent and fragrant, about 2-3 minutes. Add broth. Whisk together flour and 1/2 cup milk in a small bowl, and add to the pan with the other 1 1/2 cups of milk. Bring to a boil, stirring often. Cook for another minute, then remove from heat and add sour cream.

Once the potatoes are cool enough to handle, peel off the potato skins, using a spoon to scoop the potato out of the skins. Discard skins, roughly chop the potatoes and generously sprinkle seasoned salt over them. Add the potatoes to the saucepan and mash until it's the consistency you want. We like ours thick and chunky. Season with more seasoned salt (or regular salt) and pepper to taste.

Top individual bowls with cheese, green onions and bacon. Serves 4, and is perfect alongside a crunchy salad.

Home, French toast, and spring.

2011-03-27T13:53:00.002-05:00

+ I spend approximately eight hours a day staring at blank computer screens, wondering what to write.
+ I'm writing this post in list form to avoid spending my Sunday afternoon staring at the computer screen, wondering what to write.
+ I also feel really bad for only writing two posts in February and, until today, one in March. I'm sorry.
+ I blame it on the weather. The sky is blue today, and the sun is out, and that helps.
+ It's still cold out, though.

+ Around this time last year, I was wearing flip flops. Flip flops! 2011, please step up your game.

+ These are corners of my sister's house. She has a window in her kitchen, and it makes me jealous.

+ We ate french toast there on Saturday morning.

+ I've been thinking a lot about home lately, and how to make mine a happier space.

+ Right now, our apartment is mostly clutter and cat hair. Sometimes I feel like moving into a two-bedroom is the only solution.

+ And then I look at my bank account. I think we'll be staying here a while.

+ So my new goal is to stop daydreaming about the greener grass on the other side, and to start making my current home into a place I'd like to stay.

+ Pinterest helps. My bank account doesn't.

+ French toast always helps.

+ Is it spring yet?

French Toast (adapted from Alton Brown)

1/2 cup half-and-half (I think Jenny used regular milk)
2 large eggs
1 tablespoon honey
4 slices day-old bread
2 tablespoons butter
cinnamon
salt

Whisk together milk, eggs, honey, and a pinch of salt. Dip bread into the mixture one at a time, letting each piece soak for about 30 seconds on each side. Set aside in a medium bowl and let sit for 1 to 2 minutes. Sprinkle bread with cinnamon, if you're into that kind of thing.

Melt 1 tablespoon of butter in a large nonstick skillet over medium heat. Place bread into pan two at a time and cook until golden brown, about 2 minutes on each side. Remove bread and set on a plate (we covered ours with paper towel and put in the microwave to keep warm), add more butter, and repeat with remaining slices of bread.

Makes two servings. Enjoy with maple syrup, a sprinkle of powdered sugar, and jam.

A honeymoon in Mexico.

2011-03-07T23:18:00.003-06:00

Well hello there, March. You certainly got here in a hurry. I don't mind. Especially since February is known to drag on around these parts, with its 28 days and gray gray skies and dead-of-winter suit of armor with not a hope of sunlight breaking through. I'm glad to be done with February. I like March.

It helps when February ends with a vacation in Mexico -- a honeymoon, I should mention -- and March begins with a birthday (the big 2-7). When February ends with hot, windy days and humid evenings at an all-inclusive resort in Playa Mujeres, and when we return, it's about that time to place a jar full of daffodils on the kitchen counter and count the days until we can spring forward (this weekend! daylight is on its way!).

And if we have a snowstorm in March (it's possible, people...) or, dare I say it, April -- well, I've got these images of sunshine to keep me going. When our schedules revolved around breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

There is a huge difference, by the way, between "after lunch" and "before dinner." The former involves a nap on the rooftop terrace, often following a snack of Sabritas and a bloody mary, and the latter involves a lounge on the sofa and a steamy shower. Please don't confuse the two.

Wait. Did I just mention breakfast, lunch, and dinner? Oh yes. Breakfast...

Lunch...

And dinner...

There's definitely no confusing those.

Foods I love, with baked mac and cheese.

2011-02-14T12:43:00.003-06:00

Since it's Valentine's Day and all, I thought I'd talk about a few foods that I love.

Eggs. I love you always. Scrambled, fried, poached. Cooked with veggies in an omelet, placed sunny-side-up or over-easy atop a pile of anything edible, dropped into a bowl of soup for a rich, velvety touch.

Avocado on toast. Now to be clear, I love avocados in any form. But I think it's safe to say that only true lovers of the avocado can love it in its simplest form, piled and smeared onto a piece of toast, sprinkled with salt and pepper. Like butter, only better.

And baked pasta. Lately, the everyday toss-some-pasta-with-tomato-sauce-and-call-it-dinner just isn't enough for me. Yet I haven't had the energy to cook up some elaborate pasta dish, with long lists of ingredients that take hours to chop and roast and simmer.

The happy medium, I've found, is baked pasta. It turns the everyday pasta into something a little more special -- slipped into the oven to bubble in a bath of cheese and sauce, a topping of bread crumbs and extra Parmesan forming a crusty, golden-brown layer, cutting through to reveal hot, cheesy, comforting pasta that's far from your everyday and yet still simple enough to make after a long, cold day in dead-of-winter February. Yes. Now that's love.

This particular baked pasta is perhaps the ultimate of all baked pastas: mac and cheese. I took the classic a step further for Murdo's and my tastes, adding prosciutto, peas and onions. Because that's how we show our love around here -- by making those foods that are "just the way you like it," that put a smile on your face when leaning over your bowl, and in the end, have you sitting back and rubbing your belly and just loving life in general, and the good food and good people that come along with it. Those are the best, really.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Baked Mac and Cheese with Prosciutto, Peas and Onions
(adapted from Tyler Florence, via Delish)
As always, please don't take my measurements too seriously. I made this dish a week or two ago, and didn't write anything down, so I can't really be trusted. But go with your own tastes and gut, and the results will be delicious. This mac and cheese is so yummy and easy, it's sure to become a regular around these parts.

1/2 pound pasta (I used penne, but I think any tubular shape will do, even the classic elbow macaroni)
olive oil
4-5 ounces prosciutto, chopped
1/2 large onion, chopped
3-4 cloves garlic, smashed and minced
3/4 cup frozen peas
1 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 1/2 tablespoons flour
2 cups milk
3 cups shredded Cheddar cheese
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
bread crumbs

Cook pasta according to package directions. Drain and set aside.

Preheat oven to 400 F. Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium heat, and add onions. Cook onions until they are soft and have a nice brown color. I forget how long this takes, but it's several minutes, at least. Add garlic and prosciutto and cook a few minutes longer. Add the frozen peas until they are just heated through, then salt and pepper to taste. Remove from heat and set aside.

In a medium saucepan over medium heat, melt the butter. Whisk in the flour and cook for about a minute, stirring constantly. Gradually whisk in the milk, and continue whisking vigorously until the mixture is thick and frothy. This takes about 8-12 minutes. Be patient.

Stir in all but about 1/2 cup of the cheddar cheese and continue to cook, stirring to melt the cheese. Season with salt and pepper. Add the cooked pasta and prosciutto mixture, and stir to combine.

Transfer to a baking dish coated with cooking spray, and top with remaining cheddar cheese, then top with Parmesan cheese and fresh bread crumbs (Or use plain bread crumbs from a canister. I won't judge you, because that's what I did, too.).

Bake for 30 minutes, or until hot and bubbly.

(Serves 4)

No Recipe Hash Browns.

2011-02-03T23:53:00.001-06:00

Remember that last post about summer? And I asked if we were there yet?

Ha. We are far, far from it.

Here is the nice thing about blizzards: Being inside. Especially when inside involves a fat brown cat, a fireplace, movies checked out from the library, and hash browns.

I've been making these hash browns a lot lately, without any real thinking -- just grabbing the ingredients, eyeballing measurements, telling doneness by the texture of the potatoes and the sizzle of the pan. I've been needing this. Not just the hash browns, but the whole process of making food from the senses, without following any directions. Because honestly, I'm getting sick of recipes.

Sometimes they just get in the way, I think. Making long grocery lists every week. Having to stop what I'm doing every few minutes to double-check measurements. Dirtying up way too many cups and spoons. Burning the onions because I spent too much time reading the next step. I started following recipes more closely when I got into counting calories and losing weight for various reasons (a trip to Mexico, a wedding or two, my own self-esteem). And now, two pants sizes smaller, and I'm tired of reading recipes. I'm ready to start cooking again, my way.

And it started with hash browns, which we've been eating around here for breakfast and for dinner. With eggs and with sandwiches. On Sunday mornings and on snowy weeknights. While other recipes are tried once and tossed, these hash browns are made over and over again, using nothing but sight, smell, touch, and feel. And taste, of course.

No Recipe Hash Browns
I will, of course, continue to follow recipes, because I'm really not cool enough to make up all of my own dishes. But a recipe should be more of a guide, to be adapted to the cook's tastes and instincts. Below is not a real recipe. It's just how I cook hash browns.

potatoes, whatever kind I have, as many as I can eat
onions
green pepper, or red pepper, or no pepper
garlic, lots of it
olive oil and butter, or just butter

Chop up those potatoes in equal size pieces. Drizzle olive oil in a hot pan over medium heat, and add the butter. Toss in the potatoes, spread into a single layer, and don't touch them for five minutes. They'll start to sizzle and whistle and brown in the pan.

While I'm waiting, I chop up some onions and peppers.

Give the potatoes a good toss, then spread in a single layer again. Don't touch for five minutes. Add salt and pepper. Maybe even some seasoned salt.

While I'm waiting, I'll smash and mince the garlic. I use a lot -- about 4 big cloves. I love garlic.

Toss the potatoes again. They should be getting pretty brown. This is when I like to push them to one side of the pan, add my onions and peppers and garlic to the other side, let everything cook for a minute or two, then toss and let it all get good and brown for five minutes or so.

I know it's done when I pluck a potato (or two or three) from the pan with a wooden spoon, place it in my mouth , and it's just how I like it.

summer.

2011-01-26T22:07:00.000-06:00

are we there yet?

The life of a lemon bread.

2011-01-23T22:01:00.000-06:00

It starts with lemons.

There is some zesting of lemon, and a mixing bowl or two, and an amazing smell of baked lemon bread filling the house. Make sure to hang around for that smell. I suggest leaving the kitchen for a few minutes and enjoying the aroma from a different room, just to really embrace the effect that sweet lemon can have on a home on a cold winter day. It's really one of the best parts.

Then, there is a week of eating lemon bread for breakfast, after dinner, and before bed. It's best to just set the loaf on the counter, on a cutting board, wrapped in cling wrap or aluminum foil, with a knife handy at all times. From there, you can slice off a piece whenever you want. This bread goes especially nicely with a tall glass of milk. It also makes a very nice snack while writing a blog post. Just saying.

Here's another good part: This bread is really cake. But you pour the batter into a loaf pan, and just like that, it's bread. So you can slice it up like bread, and eat it for breakfast and before bed, and even while you blog, and all the while, there is this sweet, gooey, lemony glaze that has saturated the top crust, and it quietly screams "Cake!" as you break it apart and eat it with your bare hands, at any time of day.

In the end, after the week is up, there is another loaf of lemon bread, bright and freshly baked. Eat, enjoy, repeat.

Glazed Lemon Bread (from Simply Recipes)
I used Meyer lemons for both loaves, and they were delicious.

4 ounces (1 stick/8 Tbsp) butter, softened
1 cup minus 1 Tbsp granulated sugar
1 Tbsp honey
2 eggs, at room temperature
1 Tbsp lemon zest, from 1 large lemon
1/2 cup whole milk (I used low-fat milk)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder

Glaze:
1/4 cup lemon juice (from about 1 1/2 lemons)
1/3 cup sugar
1 Tbsp honey

Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter a 4x8-inch or 5x9-inch loaf pan.

Sift together the flour, salt, and baking powder in a medium-sized bowl. Set aside.

With a mixer, beat the butter until fluffy, about 2 minutes. Add the sugar and honey, continue to beat until creamy, a few minutes more. Add eggs, one at a time, beating after each addition to incorporate. On low speed, slowly beat the milk in. Do not worry if the mixture looks a little curdled. Mix in lemon zest.

Add the flour mixture to the wet ingredients, beating until smooth.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for 1 hour at 350°F.

While the lemon bread is baking, prepare the glaze. Heat the glaze ingredients in a small saucepan on low heat until the sugar is completely dissolved.

When the bread is done, poke holes all over the top with a thin skewer or toothpick (this will help the glaze penetrate). Spoon the glaze over it while the bread is still in the pan and is still hot. Use a brush to make sure every corner is covered. Use all of the glaze! Let cool for 10 minutes before removing from pan and slicing to serve.

Makes one loaf.

Kale Caesar Salad. With fried chickpeas.

2011-01-17T00:01:00.000-06:00

Let's have salad.

OK, so I know it's cold outside, and a good part of the country is experiencing blizzards and snow days and all that wintry stuff that makes most people want to hole up in their living room and not come out until there is color and life in the world again. Trust me, I know the feeling. But after eating soup and soup and soup, all day every day, I thought I should bring something a little fresh and crisp into the mix. Hence, salad.

Now before you start thinking that this is the kind of salad that will contribute to the New Year's resolution we all keep making, year after year (in my case, come the holidays, when I'm having hot cocoa and chocolate chip cookies for breakfast and telling myself that it's Christmas, after all, and I'll work it all off after the new year), let me just tell you right now: This is not that kind of salad. This is kale Caesar salad. With fried chickpeas.

When I first saw this recipe in my cook.eat.smile cookbook, I knew I would like it for three reasons. First, it involves kale and chickpeas, which is a combo that can't really go wrong. Second, it is a unique take on the traditional Caesar salad, which is usually just OK at best, but this recipe could take it to a completely different level. And third, Di, one of my lovely bridesmaids, college roommate of three years, lets-skip-gym-class-together partner-in-crime through high school, whom I have known since the first grade, left this note on the recipe: "You MUST MUST MUST make this!" Well, I guess it's settled then. We're having salad today.

I was a little hesitant, at first, to make a salad with raw kale. The raw egg yolk I could deal with, but the raw kale? I like my kale cooked, just slightly softened or even crisp on the edges, and I was afraid that eating it raw would be a bit too bitter for my tastes. I considered cooking the kale just for a minute or two before tossing into the salad, but then decided to just follow the recipe, and I'm so glad I did.

Once coated in Caesar dressing, the kale's bitterness is calmed while its texture holds up as strong as ever, better than any romaine lettuce leaf could. The chickpeas are fried to a deep golden brown, crisp throughout and lending a nutty bite to the salad. The capers, also fried (God bless 'em), provide a sharp contrast to the creamy, tangy dressing. This is not your New Year's diet salad. This is a winter salad, sturdy enough to help brave even the coldest of winter storms, with rich, warm flavors that comfort as well as any stew.

Thanks for the recipe, Di!

Kale Caesar Salad with Fried Chickpeas (recipe courtesy of Di, from cook.eat.smile)
Because the kale is so sturdy, this salad holds up well even after a day. You can make this salad ahead of time, or enjoy it right away and refrigerate any leftovers.

For the salad:
1 bunch dinosaur (Tuscan) kale
1 can chickpeas, drained, rinsed and completely dried
1 jar capers, drained
canola oil for frying
Caesar dressing (recipe below)
shaved Parmesan

Heat a shallow pan over medium-high heat with enough oil to cover the chickpeas (I used a small frying pan and about 3/4 cup oil). Once oil is hot, add chickpeas and fry for about 5 minutes or until golden brown and crunchy all the way through. Be careful of oil spatter. Watch the chickpeas carefully -- it will take them a while to start turning golden brown, but once they do, it is only a matter of minutes before they can burn. When done, use a slotted spoon to transfer the chickpeas to a plate lined with paper towel.

Add capers to the oil. Again, be careful of splatter. Fry until crispy, about 3 minutes. Remove and drain on a paper towel. (I poured the capers through a mesh strainer with a jar for catching the oil underneath.)

Rinse and dry kale well. Discard any discolored leaves, and trim away tough stems. Chiffon the leaves to bite size pieces, and place kale in a large bowl.

Toss kale with Caesar dressing (recipe below) to coat. Top with fried chickpeas, capers and Parmesan.

For the Caesar dressing:
1 egg yolk
3 Tbs fresh lemon juice
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 tsp Worcestershire sauce
1/4 red pepper flakes
1 Tbs Dijon mustard
3 anchovy fillets, mashed (I skipped these because didn't have any)
scant cup of peanut oil (I used olive oil)
1/4 cup of freshly grated Parmesan cheese
kosher salt and ground black pepper, to taste

Whisk egg yolk, lemon juice, garlic, Worcestershire sauce, red pepper flakes, mustard and anchovies (if using) together. Slowly whisk in oil to emulsify. Stir in cheese and season with salt and pepper. Refrigerate in a covered container. When ready to use, whisk again.

Makes 2 cups

How to Make Lumpia (Filipino Eggrolls)

2011-01-10T00:01:00.008-06:00

On Sunday, I made cabbage soup. It wasn't very good. I didn't really know what to expect when I found the recipe -- it involved sour cream, which kind of weirded me out -- and when all was said and done, I realized I should've just trusted my gut instinct and made tortellini soup, instead. I even considered throwing it out, but then decided it was still edible, and packed it up for the week's lunch, anyway. It's going to be a long week.

But, fortunately, that's all I have to say about cabbage soup, because I also made lumpia! For the first time! All by myself! *Cue trumpets, dancers and wild applause.*

Lumpia (I believe the correct plural form is lumpiang, but we never call it that in my family, so please excuse the slew of incorrect Filipino grammar that follows) refers to Filipino eggrolls, and comes in several different forms, but there are two types with which most people are familiar and that my mom most often makes. At my wedding, we served Lumpia Shanghai, which are small, thin and usually consist mainly of ground pork and very few, finely diced veggies, if any. These are dangerous deep-fried specimens, each consumed in no more than three bites, and entire plates known to be devoured in just minutes. You can see a picture of Lumpia Shanghai, in all its glory, here.

Lumpia Prito, or what I grew up calling "vegetable lumpia" (even though it usually contains meat, but more vegetables than Lumpia Shanghai, so maybe that explains it), are the eggrolls I made today and my favorite type of lumpia. My mom makes them large, similar to the size of the eggrolls you might order at a Chinese restaurant. However, I've always felt that Chinese restaurant eggrolls can be too greasy, often filled with too much cabbage or bean sprouts, and rolled with too-thick wrappers. Lumpia wrappers are much thinner, making them incredibly light and crisp when fried, and when talking on the phone with my mom about how to make lumpia, she reminded me not to add too much cabbage because she "just doesn't like it." OK, Mom. I totally agree.

The following how-to and recipe is based on my memory and years of experience as Assistant-to-Mom in the lumpia-making process, as well as a brief run-down from my mom as I shopped for lumpia wrappers. Let's get to it, shall we?

First, make the filling, which is as simple as cooking some ground pork in onions and garlic, then adding green beans, carrots and cabbage, and seasoning with fish sauce (or soy sauce), salt and pepper. My mom sometimes likes to add potatoes and even sweet potatoes. Other fillings include ground turkey, bean sprouts or water chestnuts. You can even skip the meat altogether -- the possibilities are endless, really.

You'll need lumpia wrappers. I found these in the frozen section at my local Asian grocery store, and chose this particular brand because they looked familiar to me. Just make sure they're square. Thaw them overnight in the refrigerator or on the counter for a few hours (the stack will still be pretty firm even when thawed), and carefully peel them apart before rolling.

Here's a tip for separating the wrappers: Peel apart a large chunk at a time, then continue to divide each chunk in half until you're left with single wrappers. Keep your stack of wrappers between two damp paper towels to keep them from drying out while you roll.

After the filling has cooled completely, scoop a little less than half a cup into a small, rectangular mound just below the middle of the wrapper. This is kind of a lot of filling, but these are big eggrolls, so just go with it.

Carefully roll the lumpia, keeping the filling compact and making sure the wrapper is tight. Pull the sides across the top so that the lumpia resembles an open envelope.

Roll the lumpia once more until just the edge is exposed, and brush the edge with egg to seal. Brush the outside seams with more egg.

Place eggrolls seamside down on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper, then fry the eggrolls in batches, on all sides, until golden brown. (Start frying seam side down to avoid the lumpia from opening in the pan.)

I always eat these with a simple sauce of soy sauce, vinegar, garlic and black pepper.

I'm not really sure how to end this post, but Murdo just told me to "wrap it up" (ha ha) already, so here is the recipe. Go make lumpia! (And do not make cabbage soup.)

Lumpia Prito
Makes 12 lumpiang

For the filling:
1 tablespoon canola oil
1 lb ground pork* (can use ground turkey)
1 cup onions, diced
1 cup carrots, peeled and diced
1 cup green beans, sliced thinly on a diagonal
3/4 cup cabbage, sliced small
3 garlic cloves, smashed and minced
1/4 cup fish sauce (can substitute soy sauce)
salt and pepper

Heat oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat, and add onions and garlic. Cook until translucent and fragrant, about 3 minutes. Add ground pork, breaking up and cooking until no longer pink. Add the green beans, cook for 1-2 minutes. Add carrots, cook 1-2 minutes longer. Add cabbage and cook until slightly softened. Add fish sauce and stir to combine. Salt and pepper to taste.

(The key here is to not overcook the vegetables, as they will continue to cook later when frying the eggrolls. Instead, you want them just slightly cooked, so that they are bright but not too tender.)

Transfer pork mixture to a colander and let excess fat and moisture drain. Let cool completely. (I'm not sure what happens if you attempt to roll lumpia with warm filling, but I'm guessing the wrappers get soggy and fall apart. Just don't do it.) Filling can be made even further in advance -- I made my filling the night before, let cool and then stored in the refrigerator until ready to roll the lumpia the following morning.

For the rolling of the lumpia:
Parchment or wax paper
12 square lumpia wrappers (see tips for separating lumpia and keeping lumpia wrappers, above)
1 egg, beaten
Pork mixture, recipe above

On a large piece of parchment paper, position the lumpia wrapper so that it is a diamond facing you, with a pointed edge toward you. Scoop about 1/2 cup (I used slightly less than 1/2 cup, about 3/8 cup) of the pork mixture to form a rectangular mound just below the middle of the wrapper.

Pull the bottom edge of the wrapper over the filling, and gently tighten the wrapper around the filling. Fold the right and left edges over so that they touch in the middle and the wrapper now resembles an open envelope. Roll the entire lumpia over so that there is about a 1-inch seam exposed, then brush and seal with egg. You can also brush the outside seam with more egg.

Place seam side down on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Repeat with remaining wrappers until the pork mixture is gone. Should make about 12.

(You can store these in the refrigerator for a few days until ready to roll, or even store them in the freezer for several months. Just be sure to thaw completely before frying.)

For the frying of the lumpia:
Heat 3-4 tablespoons of canola oil in a small skillet over high heat. When the oil is very hot, working in batches, place 3-4 eggrolls (do not overcrowd) in the skillet, seam side down, and fry on all sides until golden brown. Transfer to a plate lined with paper towel, add more oil to pan if needed, and repeat frying process with remaining eggrolls.

Serve immediately with lumpia sauce (recipe below). To reheat, place in a toaster oven at 350 F for 3-5 minutes until hot and crispy. Every oven is different, so just be sure to watch carefully.

For the lumpia sauce:
Combine 1 tablespoon soy sauce, 1-2 tablespoon vinegar, 1-2 smashed garlic cloves, and ground pepper into a small bowl. Adjust to your tastes.

For the eating of the lumpia:
Dip the end of the eggroll into the sauce. Take a big bite. Enjoy. Don't dip again -- first of all, double dipping is gross. Second, the filling is loose and will likely fall into the sauce if you turn your eggroll upside down. Instead, take a small spoonful of sauce and drizzle over each individual bite. Enjoy some more.

*I used non-enhanced, non-confined, growth-hormone-free ground pork from Twin Oak Meats in Fairbury, Illinois. Purchased from Farm Fresh Foodstuffs.

Not-boring vegetable stew.

2011-01-06T22:37:00.001-06:00

So. Now that we've got that whole crazy year out of the way, I have a confession to make: I'm boring. Perhaps not the most promising discovery to come to at the start of a new year, unless I'm the type to make resolutions that involve becoming more not-boring, but. Eh.

Now, here's a secret: I'm kind of OK with it. My NYE spent in playing board games with close friends was one of the most enjoyable I've had in years. My journal does not consist of Dear-Diary moments with episodes of sex, drama and alcohol, but rather lists of what I ate that day and corresponding calorie counts, with a grocery list and weekly menu plan thrown in for good measure. My today's exciting events include getting a new TV stand, adding bacon to my soup, and enjoying our new ottoman as I sit on the couch and watch movies. My lunch has been the same vegetable stew for the past three days straight, and I plan on eating the same again tomorrow.

Bo-oring. And yet, I'm satisfied. Content. Happy.

Here's a story: The other day, I asked Murdo to buy some grapefruit for me if he noticed they were on sale. He came home with 18 pounds of grapefruit. I realize this story is neither interesting nor relevant, but I find it somewhat amusing, and that's all I've got right now. Besides this vegetable stew.

Actually, I think this vegetable stew may spark your interest, as we're all getting over our butter overdoses from the holidays and the webosphere is crawling with healthy recipes, low-calorie recipes, comfort foods that won't make you fatter. It's hearty, with only 180 calories per serving, two types of meaty mushrooms, and a traditional base of onions, carrots and potatoes that will make you simultaneously think of beef stew whilst forgetting that beef stew is supposed to include beef. Sounds pretty not-boring to me! I'll take it.

I hope you'll take it, too, and won't take the lack of exciting news around these parts as a layout for the 2011 to come. I mean, I admit that I'm boring and all, but not all the time (I hope). I'll find something interesting to write about soon enough, and when I do, I'll shout it from the rooftops while flinging delicious food in your general direction. Just stick around and you'll see.

Hearty Vegetable Stew (from The Best Light Recipe by the Editors of Cook's Illustrated)
According to the CI editors, this stew does not get better over time, unlike traditional beef stews. However, I made this on a Sunday afternoon and, rather than eat it immediately, packed it up for my week's lunches. I think the stew held up rather nicely all week.

2 medium onions, diced
1 medium celery rib, diced
1 medium carrot, peeled and diced
4 large carrots (about 1 lb), peeled, halved lengthwise, and cut into 1-inch pieces
1 teaspoon olive oil
salt
9 medium portobello mushrooms (about 1 1/4 lbs), stems discarded, gills removed, caps halved and sliced 1/2-inch thick
10 ounces white mushrooms, halved with stems removed
3-4 cloves garlic, smashed and minced
1/2 teaspoon dried rosemary, or 1 teaspoon fresh
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme, or 1 teaspoon fresh
1/2 cup dry white wine
4 cups low-sodium vegetable broth
2 cups water
1 (14.5 ounce) can diced tomatoes
2 bay leaves
4 medium red potatoes (about 1 1/2 lbs), peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces
1 cup frozen peas, thawed
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
ground black pepper, to taste

Add onions, carrot, celery, 1/2 teaspoon of salt, and oil in a large Dutch oven over medium heat and cover. Cook, stirring often, until vegetables are soft, about 8 to 10 minutes.

Add the mushrooms and increase heat to medium high. Cook until all the liquid released by the mushrooms has evaporated, about 10 minutes. Stir in garlic, rosemary, and thyme, and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Stir in the wine and scrape up any brown bits from the bottom of the pot. Cook until wine is reduced by half, about 2 minutes.

Add the broth, water, tomatoes with their juices, bay leaves, and potatoes. Bring to a boil over medium high heat. Partially cover and reduce the heat to medium low. Simmer until the stew has thickened and is flavorful, about 1 hour. Add water if the stew is too thick.

Take pot of heat and stir in the peas. Cover and let stand until peas are warmed through, about 4 minutes. Stir in vinegar, discard bay leaves, and season with salt and pepper to taste.

Serves 8 (I halved this recipe)
Serving: 1 1/2 cups
Calories per serving: 180

365 Days.

2010-12-31T16:57:00.000-06:00

When I first started Project 365 -- taking a photo a day, every day, for an entire year -- I was mostly excited about the very end. When it was all over, I would have a photo journal of a very special year.

Today, the last day, I wanted to take a picture of the sky. But instead of looking up, I found the best views looking down. Just goes to show how this project has taught me to look at everything differently, from every angle, and find simple beauty.

In 2010, I watched the seasons change full circle. I learned to appreciate winter for its calming silence, spring for its birds chirping and flowers and life, summer for its lush smell and long days, and fall for its colors and mild weather.

I baked my first muffins, ran outside breathing the fresh spring air, said hello to my new niece in California, and said goodbye to a wonderful woman in Illinois.

I went to Mexico to watch my sister get married, lost 12 pounds and kept it off (kind of), ate fresh veggies from the farmers market, and spent time at a lake house in Michigan with family and friends.

I married the man I love, on a cool fall day, on the best day of my life. So far.

And before I knew it, the holidays were here, and we all found ourselves wondering where the time went.

That's my year in pictures for you. Just a handful of favorites, each that brings a memory, a story, an emotion, a big event, a routine, a first, a last, an only. And hidden among these favorites are the boring days in between, of course. There were more of those than I'd like to admit -- days when I'd take a photo just to take it, and I'd think to myself, "Here I am, on a Friday night, taking another photo of my cat." And there are the four days that I missed, which I don't think is too bad considering the grand total.

I wish I had the right words to give 2010 the proper send off, something that would tie the whole year together in some inspiring life lesson. But if a picture is worth a thousand words, then I think I've said enough.

Happy New Year!

(You can see my entire year in photos here.)

scenes.

2010-12-28T22:19:00.000-06:00

so just like that
christmas is over
and a brand new year
approaches.

bokeh.

2010-12-19T21:58:00.000-06:00

christmas is this week
so i thought i'd dress this place up a bit
with twinkle lights
and snowflakes.

My first cookies. (Chocolate chips included.)

2010-12-12T22:26:00.000-06:00

I started with muffins. Then, more muffins. Next, cake. I took a short break and got married, then made biscuits. Today, I made my very first cookies. Chocolate chip cookies.

Let's skip the part where people are shocked that I've gone 26 years without baking chocolate chip cookies on my own. That I call myself a food blogger and have never even made cookies, period. Look, I know. It's the reason I made the goal to start baking this year, and I figured that before 2010 was up, I had to make my first batch of cookies. And they had to be chocolate chip. So, let's just high-five and pour ourselves a glass of milk, shall we?

I'm not going to say they're the best cookies ever. They're my first cookies, after all. The fact that they didn't completely collapse on themselves and end up tasting like dirt makes me call these cookies a complete success. A learning experience, for sure.

Finding the perfect chocolate chip cookie recipe is next to impossible, since everyone and their mother has their favorite recipe, which they claim to be the best. And everyone has their favorite type of cookie. There's dense and chewy, flat and crispy, and everything in between. I've done the research and trust me, for every type of chocolate chip cookie, there is a hardcore cookie lover that will stand by that recipe to the death. I just wanted something simple, and classic, and easy. I wanted something I could mix by hand, and dirty as few dishes as possible, and that used basic ingredients. So I went with the recipe on the back of the bag of Nestle Toll House chocolate chips.

Like I said, everyone has their favorites, and with these favorites come the secrets and techniques that make the cookie just right, and the stories that make the cookie that much sweeter.

My sister started out sticking to only three basic types of cookies, chocolate chip one of them, because my mom wasn't one to buy fussy ingredients like almond extract or special flours. Jenny's chocolate chip cookies are the ones I grew up with, and call my favorite, and received in care packages when away at college.

Shanna's chocolate chip cookies involve oatmeal, and are the best cookies she eats -- a recipe from her grandma, who would line her stairs with cookie tins during the holidays and give everyone she knew a gift of sweets.

Caitlin grew up with the Nestle Toll House recipe, mixing the dough by hand, and melting the butter because her mother never remembered to soften the sticks beforehand. I liked the idea of not having to plan ahead, so with Caitlin's techniques in hand and the stories rolling around in my head, I baked.

Here is what I learned: Those special techniques are really key if you're picky about your cookies. Thankfully, I'm not, so when I ended up with three different kinds of cookies, I didn't mind much. In fact, I took it as a blessing that now I know not to make the dough balls too big, to adjust the time settings according to the size of the cookie, and not to take cookie-making too seriously. All seemingly obvious concerns, but like I said, I'm learning.

My first round of cookies were huge and flat, due to too-large spoonfuls. My second batch came out slightly burnt and crispy on the bottom, from adjusting the size but not bothering to shorten the bake time. The third came out just right. All were tasty, with crisp edges and chewy centers, just how I like them. I even kept the chocolate chips to a minimum for the first few, for Murdo, who likes his cookies big and flat, with very few chips.

And that's why all these variations exist, really -- because with every chocolate chip cookie-lover, there is a chocolate chip cookie-maker who tweaks the recipe and mixes by hand or mixer, adds fewer chips and melts the butter, fills tins or sends care packages, all for that special someone and that perfect cookie.

The Original Nestle Toll House chocolate chip cookie recipe can be found here. I only used about half to 3/4 the amount of chocolate chips called for (I didn't measure, just sprinkled in the chips and stopped when I thought it was enough. A whole bag just seemed like way too much.). Also, I melted the butter beforehand, which made the cookie dough much easier to mix by hand. I'm told the melted butter results in a flatter cookie, while mixing by hand creates chewiness. I'm no cookie expert, but I found that just having fun with the whole process worked fine for me.

b+w.

2010-12-09T19:53:00.000-06:00

i took these back in october.
november came and went.
and i plan to savor december
in front of a cozy fire.

Three-bean chili, kind of. December, definitely.

2010-12-06T23:05:00.002-06:00

Two weeks ago, there were these biscuits. The kind perfect for dipping in a big bowl of chili, I told you. And then I even went as far as telling some of you to Stay tuned! Chili recipe coming soon! And then there was Thanksgiving, and then Thanksgiving leftovers, and well...Now there is chili.

It all works out perfectly, I think, since it's also December now, a month that never fails to blow in with a gust of frigid air or a healthy dump of snow, or in the case of this year, both. It is cold out there. Cold enough for me to forget how pretty and white and muted everything was on the Saturday morning after that first snow fall; cold enough for my nose hairs to freeze during the brisk walk from my car to the front door; cold enough for me to want this chili every day for lunch and never get sick of it because it is so warm and filling and simple.

Hello, December. Hello, chili.

Now I'm not quite sure what makes an authentic chili, but I'm pretty sure this isn't it. I even started calling it soup a few times in my head, because even though I never grew up with the stuff and certainly have no authority on the matter, I still associate chili with meat. But what I love about this chili, or this soup, or whatever you want to call it, is that there is no meat at all. Just three types of beans, a few handfuls of chopped veggies, and a tomato base.

It also comes together quickly and easily, requiring items that are probably already in your pantry. I made my second batch this past Sunday and had all the ingredients on hand, even after I decided to skip my weekend grocery trip just to avoid the snow. Warm, filling, simple, and I don't have to leave the house? I may just survive this winter, after all.

Three-Bean Chili (from Cooking Light)
This recipe calls for garbanzo beans, or chickpeas, another reason why I hesitate to really call it chili. For those of you who don't like chickpeas (and you know who you are), I think any white bean would work fine, as well.

2 teaspoons olive oil
1 cup chopped onion
1/2 cup chopped celery
1/2 cup chopped carrots
3 cloves garlic, smashed and minced
3/4 cup water
2 tablespoons tomato paste
2 teaspoons chili powder
2 teaspoons ground cumin
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1 (15 1/2-ounce) can garbanzo beans, rinsed and drained
1 (15 1/2-ounce) can red kidney beans, rinsed and drained
1 (15 1/2-ounce) can black beans, rinsed and drained
1 (14 1/2-ounce) can organic vegetable broth
1 (14 1/2-ounce) can no-salt-added diced tomatoes, undrained
1 tablespoon yellow cornmeal

Heat olive oil in a large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add onion, carrots, celery and garlic to pan, and sauté 3 minutes or until the onion starts to get some color. Stir in 3/4 cup water and next 9 ingredients (through diced tomatoes) and bring to a boil. Reduce heat, simmer 8 minutes. Stir in cornmeal and cook 2 minutes.

Remove from heat and serve with cilantro, sour cream, diced avocados. Although I think it's perfect just plain, with a biscuit on the side.

Serving: 1 1/3 cup chili
Calories per serving (with 1 tablespoon sour cream): 180

Turkey hash with mustard sauce. And traditions.

2010-11-28T22:10:00.002-06:00

Tradition is serious business come the holidays. There are some traditions that people will just not let go. In my family, for example, we have jellied cranberry sauce on Thanksgiving. The kind that jiggles out of the can. The kind that I, as a food blogger, probably should not be professing my love for in this very public space. But there you have it: This shameful dish has been on our Thanksgiving table for as long as I can remember, and I love the stuff.

Other traditions come and go, no matter how hard you want to hold on. Marriage will do these kinds of things, so that holiday traditions are doubled, tripled, quadrupled. And even though it can be tough splitting holidays between families, missing one Christmas morning for another, and spending another Thanksgiving without certain faces, there is something to be said for making brand new traditions that just might stick, and to embrace the traditions that are gifted from others.

I love hearing about other families' traditions. About annual hikes on Thanksgiving mornings, and special wrapping paper used only for Santa's gifts. About stockings, and lists, and Alaskan King crab dinners on New Year's Eve. About the best banana cream pie ever, and that favorite meal of leftovers enjoyed the day after Thanksgiving.

Leslie's Turkey Hash with Mustard Sauce
*Note from Leslie: My dad's favorite meal on Earth. Best enjoyed the day after Thanksgiving.

This recipe is adapted from my cook.eat.smile recipe book. Just like most family recipes, the original had few exact measurements. Below are the measurements I used, with the addition of green pepper and garlic. The results were delicious. That sauce! I could bathe in it. Thanks, Les!

For the hash:
1 1/2 cups leftover cooked turkey, chopped
3 cups red potatoes, boiled but still firm, then chopped (I used 7 small ones)
3 garlic cloves, smashed and minced
1/2 cup onion, diced
1/2 cup green pepper, diced
1 tablespoon butter
1 teaspoon paprika
salt and pepper, to taste

Melt butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add onions, green peppers, and garlic, and cook for a few minutes until soft. Add potatoes, turkey, paprika, salt, and pepper. Cook everything until brown and potatoes are done to your tastes. I cooked mine until browned and slightly crispy.

Meanwhile, make mustard sauce.

For the mustard sauce:
1 cup chicken broth
1 cup beef broth
2 teaspoons dry powder mustard
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons flour

In a small saucepan, heat the broths to a simmer over medium-low heat. Whisk in mustards until combined. Add flour and butter to desired thickness.* Adjust to taste.

Pour sauce over hash and enjoy! Mmmmmm.

*The butter and flour are for thickening purposes. Just make sure you have equal parts. You may use more or less depending on how you like the sauce.

thanksgiving.

2010-11-26T17:19:00.000-06:00

The holidays are officially here.
I hope the start of yours
was as lovely
as ours.

See more Thanksgiving photos here.

Sour Cream, Cheddar, and Green Onion Biscuit-ology.

2010-11-22T22:05:00.003-06:00

I recently had a strange craving for biscuits. I say "strange" because I've never craved biscuits before. I hardly ever eat biscuits, unless they're popped from a canister and slathered with sausage gravy. Come to think of it, I don't think I've even had homemade biscuits. Ever. And yet, there I was, craving biscuits. The kind with cheddar.

I think it started when I spotted a recipe in a cookbook. It was this cookbook, and the recipe was for chipotle cheddar biscuits, and my sister Jenny had told me to flip through the book and tell her what she should bake. I saw the recipe and exclaimed, "Biscuits!" Savory, fluffy, dip-in-a-big-bowl-of-chili biscuits! She, of course, was thinking more along the lines of marshmallows or candy. I may have suggested biscuits another time after that, which she may have brushed off or pretended not to hear, it's hard to say. But either way: I knew that if I wanted these things, the baker in my life wasn't going to make them for me. I'd have to find a recipe that I could manage and make them on my own.

So I did. I made biscuits! Just like that.

Well, it wasn't that easy. I had to e-mail my sister beforehand to ask a question about one of the instructions, to which she gave a detailed response, and then once I was knuckle-deep in flour and butter, I had to call her when I reached said instruction on the recipe because I was still confused.

Listen, I thought baking was supposed to be a science, right? An exact science that requires exact measurements and leveling off with a knife and "Do Not Over Mix." It's part of the reason it scares me so. But then it goes on with these instructions like, "Cut the butter into the flour until it resembles course meal." Or, "Cream the butter until light and fluffy." Huh? I know some of you bakers may be thinking these descriptions seem obvious, but they lose me every time. Course meal? Light and fluffy? How is this scientific? How do I know when this exact point in the cutting and/or mixing process occurs? And how do I make sure I'm not over mixing?

Here is the part where Jenny said to me, "You seem kind of frantic." And that's when it hit me, I suppose. This is a recipe for biscuits, not an equation for solving life's mysteries. Dry ingredients, wet ingredients, mix, plop, heat, rise. I can do this, and it doesn't have to mean the end of the world if the butter isn't cut exactly how it should be. Live and learn. Trial and error. I just hate the error part.

Fortunately, there were no errors in this trial. These biscuits are delicious! Nice and crusty on the outside, fluffy and moist on the inside, with bits of green onion and cheddar throughout. And I'll tell you every time I bake something, but I couldn't help but give a little squeal when I peered into the lit oven and saw the biscuits look as biscuits should, rising and turning golden brown. I don't squeal like that when I make soup, or fried rice, or pop breakfast biscuits out of a canister. Or when I'm studying science, which proves once more that this baking thing is something else entirely. I'm not quite sure what, but it involves delicious biscuits, and that's never a bad thing.

Sour Cream, Cheddar, and Green Onion Biscuits (from Cooking Light)
These are best served fresh out of the oven. Once they've sat out for a bit, they can get kind of gummy. Cooking Light says to wrap the biscuits loosely in foil and put in the oven at 300 F for 10 minutes to reheat. I put mine in my very powerful toaster oven for about 3 minutes at 200 F. Be careful not to leave them in for too long, because the bottoms get kind of burnt.

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
3 tablespoons chilled butter, cut into small pieces
3/4 cup (3 ounces) shredded reduced-fat sharp cheddar cheese
1/4 cup finely chopped green onions
1 cup fat-free buttermilk
1/2 cup fat-free sour cream
Cooking spray

Preheat oven to 450°.

Lightly spoon flour into dry measuring cups and level with a knife. Combine flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, and baking soda in a large bowl, stirring with a whisk. Cut in butter with a pastry blender or 2 knives until mixture resembles coarse meal.* Add cheese and onions; toss well. Add buttermilk and sour cream; stir just until moist.

Drop dough by 1/4 cupfuls onto a baking sheet coated with cooking spray. Bake at 450° for 15 minutes or until edges are brown. Remove biscuits from pan; cool on wire racks.

Serving: 1 biscuit
Calories per serving: 146

*This means to take one knife in each hand and literally cut the butter into the flour, so that the mixture looks like it has small, bead-sized lumps, like unsifted flour. The point of this is to leave small chunks of butter so that the biscuits have that flaky, biscuit-y texture. I wish the original instructions would have told me this. Thank you, Jenny, for that bit of baking wisdom.

Taking some getting used to. With butternut squash pasta.

2010-11-11T21:52:00.000-06:00

I'm in the process of changing my name. It's not a particularly fun process -- there's a lot of standing in line and waiting involved, and I carry around my marriage certificate wherever I go, just in case. I've got my new driver's license and new credit cards, so that I'm signing checks and receipts with one name while still receiving bills in another. My personal e-mail still includes my maiden name, while my work e-mail has my new name. I'm getting used to answering to this, but I sometimes slip and still call myself that.

The name change isn't the only thing I'm getting used to around here. There is also the change in seasons and transition from fall to winter, Halloween to The Holidays -- a transition that makes me impatient for the bustle of Thanksgiving and Christmas but dreading the cold months ahead. The sky is nearly pitch black when I leave the office, which has been the hardest part so far, since the cold weather has been slow to catch up. It's actually getting warmer, reaching the 70s this week so that I drove with the window down on my lunch break yesterday and left my jacket in the car this morning.

And there's this butternut squash pasta, an in-between dish of sorts, which seems so right for these days when it's dark by 4:30 but still nice enough to keep the windows open. It features butternut squash, which I've been eating on a weekly basis lately, and even Murdo asked me the other day if I'm getting sick of squash yet. The answer is no, I'm not, and I certainly hope I don't get sick of it soon because it's a winter squash, after all, and not even winter yet.

The squash is tossed with olive oil, salt, pepper, and brown sugar, and roasted with a bunch of halved shallots, then thrown over wide ribbon noodles. There is a sprinkling of sage that brings in a hint of the holidays, and yet the dish is so light you'd think it was simple meal prepared for summer or spring.

But summer is long gone, and I hate to say it, but I kind of wish winter would just get here already. I know it's just around the corner and I'd rather get it over with, instead of remain stuck in this transitional period, wearing boots with no jacket, signing one name and answering to another. Until then, of course, I'm sure there will be lots more squash. Which I'm used to by now.

Pasta with Roasted Butternut Squash and Shallots (from Cooking Light)
I followed this recipe pretty closely, except ended up using 4 cups of squash instead of 3, and forgot about the cheese altogether. It was still tasty.

3 cups (1-inch) cubed peeled butternut squash
1 tablespoon dark brown sugar
1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
8 shallots, peeled and halved lengthwise (about 1/2 pound)
1 tablespoon chopped fresh or 1 teaspoon dried rubbed sage
4 ounces uncooked pappardelle (wide ribbon pasta) or fettuccine
1/4 cup (1 ounce) grated fresh Parmesan cheese

Preheat oven to 475 F.

Combine the squash, sugar, 2 1/2 teaspoons oil, salt, pepper, and shallots in a jelly roll pan and toss well. Bake at 475 for 20 minutes or until tender, stirring occasionally. Stir in sage.

Meanwhile, cook pasta according to package directions. Drain and place cooked pasta in a bowl. Add 2 teaspoons oil and toss well. Serve the squash mixture over pasta. Sprinkle with cheese.

Serving size: 3/4 cup pasta, 3/4 cup squash mixture, 1 tablespoon cheese
Calories per serving: 248

My family's chicken adobo recipe.

2010-11-08T09:00:00.003-06:00

Sometimes when I'm at work, I'll have a really great idea for a blog post that is completely unrelated to work. The sentences start forming in my head, and I think to myself, "Man, I should really be writing this down," but instead, I have to write about something more boring, like work. And then I get home and sit down to write a blog post, and I've completely forgotten what I wanted to write about.

So it goes with this chicken adobo. I knew exactly what I wanted to write for this chicken adobo post last week, sometime around two in the afternoon, when I was sitting at my desk staring at a spreadsheet and dreaming about dinner. And now, I just can't remember. I should really write these things down.

I'm the same way with recipes. I've been getting better about following recipes more precisely, ever since I started counting calories and cooking lighter foods. But then there are those recipes that just kind of float around in the back of my head, with no real measurements or times, just eyeball-and-taste methods that always seem to work out OK in the end. And I'm left with a dish I've made a million times before, with no real way to share it with you because I never thought to pay attention to how much onion I actually chopped, and how much soy sauce was in that "dash," and how long it took to taste just right. Until now.

Today, I present you with my family's chicken adobo recipe. I've written about chicken adobo here before, and how I grew up with the smell of chicken adobo in the kitchen, and how learning to make it in college was like bringing my mother's kitchen to my own. It's still like that. The rich aroma of chicken simmering slowly in soy sauce, garlic, and vinegar will always mean "home" to me.

One of my favorite things about this recipe, besides the smell and of course, the taste, is that it's just about the easiest dish to make. It's a simple chicken and rice dish, made with bone-in chicken pieces, although for a long time, I used to make it only with boneless, skinless chicken breasts simply for convenience's sake. Also, I didn't own a good cleaver, but more on that later. Chicken adobo made solely with boneless, skinless chicken breasts is not real chicken adobo. It's good, but it's not authentic. It'll do in a pinch, but it just doesn't taste the same.

Real chicken adobo requires bone-in chicken pieces. I use chicken drumsticks, whacked in half crosswise with a good cleaver (a wedding gift, yay! no more fake adobo in this kitchen!), exposing the bone marrow to make the broth richer and more flavorful.

Then comes the sauce, which involves equal parts water, vinegar, and soy sauce. That's the beauty of this dish -- as long as you have equal parts of these key ingredients, in addition to plenty of garlic, you really can't screw up the flavor. For four pounds of chicken, I used a cup of each, which was just enough to almost cover the chicken.

A couple of bay leaves, a pinch of whole black peppercorns, and an hour of simmer time, and you'll have tender, fall apart chicken that is sweet and tangy, garlicky and rich. A true Filipino classic.

Filipino Chicken Adobo
Adobo refers to the process of simmering in soy sauce, vinegar, and garlic. Anything can be adobo-ed, including pork, ribs, and even veggies, although I've never tried vegetarian adobo. I prefer chicken adobo. If you don't own a good cleaver to cut the chicken in half, then simply leave the pieces whole. It'll still taste great.

The vinegar helps it keep longer than your usual chicken dish, and is actually better the next day. After it's refrigerated, the broth gets kind of gelatinous, which can look gross but don't be alarmed. Just skim the fat off the top and it'll reheat beautifully.

4 lbs chicken (Any bone-in parts will do, such as thighs or legs. I use drumsticks split in half crosswise and a couple boneless, skinless chicken breasts, sliced. Sometimes I'll add in boneless thighs, as well.)
1 cup soy sauce
1 cup white vinegar
1 cup water
2 bay leaves
1 tbsp whole black peppercorns
6 cloves garlic, smashed and minced
steamed white rice

Throw everything (except for the rice) into a large pot or Dutch oven. Bring to a boil, then lower heat and let simmer, covered, for 45 minutes to an hour, stirring occasionally. You'll know it's done when the meat begins to separate from the bone. Remove bay leaves and serve over white rice.

This makes a lot of adobo. I made this much and it fed 2 people for three meals. So about 6 servings.

Cookies, calzones, and casseroles.

2010-11-04T20:04:00.000-05:00

When you get married, life kind of explodes. No, scratch that. When you get engaged, life definitely explodes. Mostly good explosions, of course. First, there is the initial explosion of announcements: Quick! Call everyone you know! Send picture messages of the ring! Tell the proposal story so many times it makes you regret calling so many people! Next, there is the wedding planning explosion, which comes in the form of a nightmare. Then, the wedding day explosion, during which your heart is filled with so much love and emotion that it pretty much bursts. And then you’re married, and you think everything is back to normal, and for the most part, it is. Unless you and your husband live in a teeny tiny apartment, in which case, your living space is constantly exploding with all of the wedding gifts that you foolishly asked for.

Seriously. There are cabinets in my kitchen that I can’t open without a colander falling on my foot. There is a stack of large boxes that have made a permanent home behind our living room couch. And more towels just means a bigger pile of laundry next to the washing machine, which also happens to be next to my bed. Yes, that’s how small our apartment is.

But really, how can I complain? These are gifts, after all. My apartment is exploding with really nice things at the moment, and I am thankful for that. I just wish we had a place to put all of it. As a result, we’re not really inviting too many people over for dinner parties or anything, not because we don’t have the “stuff” required to entertain (Trust me, I’ve got the dip trays and the place settings and the wine glasses and the serving bowls etc. etc. etc.), but because there simply isn’t enough room to entertain, period. Also, we only have three dining room chairs that will not break if you sit on them.

So when we planned a Saturday night of Settlers of Catan and dinner followed by a Sunday morning of breakfast and football-watching and baking with my sister and her husband, we didn’t host. Instead, Jenny did all the cooking and the baking, and we just showed up, ate and took pictures. Because she's pretty awesome, and has plenty of room for all of her wedding stuff, and all the counter space in the world for a Kitchen Aid mixer, coffee maker, toaster oven and rice cooker, and even has an entire cabinet dedicated to baking ingredients. Including two kinds of chocolate chips, whole wheat flour, parchment paper, rolling pins, and a bag of dried cherries that she bought on sale thinking “Well, I’m sure I’ll use them someday.” Kind of like how I stock up on cans of chickpeas when they’re on sale, except she’d never buy chickpeas, and I’d never buy dried cherries.

Here is what we ate that weekend: Baked brie, spinach calzones with blue cheese, Cool Ranch Doritos, bon-bons, orange-pecan French toast casserole, bacon, eggs, and chocolate-cherry Heart Smart cookies. (See where those dried cherries come in? You knew this long ramble of post had to lead somewhere…) Also, Murdo won in Settlers of Catan. Again.

Sometimes, I dream of huge white kitchens with open shelving, stacked high with my white bone china place settings, and an entire section dedicated to baking ingredients. And soup ingredients. And pasta ingredients. And sandwich ingredients. And also, enough room for all of those wine glasses that are currently stored next to our printer.

All recipes are from Cooking Light:

Spinach Calzones with Blue Cheese - Murdo doesn't like spinach, mushrooms, or blue cheese, which were all included in these calzones, and yet he still truly enjoyed them. Three points for Jenny!

Orange Pecan French Toast Casserole - A perfectly sweet companion to the salty bacon. Doesn't even need maple syrup. It might even become a new Christmas morning treat for our family, although I do love cinnamon rolls...

Chocolate Cherry Heart Smart Cookies - These are great for breakfast. Really.

moments.

2010-10-21T23:39:00.000-05:00

here are a few
that make me happy.
have a great weekend!

Beans, sausage, squash, greens. And fall.

2010-10-19T22:06:00.000-05:00

Lately, I've been eating a lot of soups filled with beans, sausage, squash and greens. There is a pot of it sitting on my stove right now, in fact. It started with this black bean and squash chili that I made for the first time last year and again a few weeks ago. Then I substituted the black beans for chickpeas and omitted the cumin and chili pepper for simple salt and pepper, and added a few links of chicken sausage. Tonight, there were white beans and spinach, and in the end, a short glug of red wine vinegar just to brighten things up a bit.

I've found that pot of soup bubbling on the stove on a weeknight, after the dinner dishes have been cleared away and a glass of red wine poured, is the just the thing I need -- love -- on evenings when the air is getting cooler, and we're still refusing to turn on the heat. A pot of soup just warms everything up. I've been packing them up for my lunch every day, and storing a cup or two in the freezer, although the way I've been making these soups every week, there may not even be a need for the reserves.

The truth is, I have been craving warm comfort foods. I've got my eye on dishes that involve stew meats braised in sauces for hours, shepherd's pies, slow cooker meals, recipes that call for a bottle of Guinness stout. I've even suggested a few to Murdo, to which he responded that it was still 70 degrees outside, and wait until it's colder.

That was last week. This week, I've been pulling on my boots, sweaters and scarves. I've been turning the heat on in my car in the morning. I've been crunching leaves beneath my feet as I walk to the front door at the end of the day. I've been making soup. These are the things that I enjoy in the fall, when the air still has a back-to-school feel and we haven't yet reached the painful winds and grumbles of winter. But please, let's not talk about winter yet. It's still very, very fall.

What kind of warm comfort foods are you looking forward to?

Fall Soup with Squash, Sausage, Beans, Greens (adapted from Fine Cooking)
I love the way this recipe can be altered and varied according to what I have in my fridge and pantry. The butternut squash is key, as is the sausage -- they really flavor the soup, although you could easily make this dish vegetarian by using vegetable broth and omitting the meat altogether. As for the greens, I used spinach tonight, but I prefer kale more for its bite-y texture. I've also used just one can of broth to make the soup thicker and more stew-like, but use two if you like more of a soupy soup. Bottom line: Adapt this recipe to your tastes. Enjoy!

2 tbs olive oil
2 1/2 cups butternut squash, peeled and diced into 1/2-inch cubes
3 cloves garlic, smashed and minced
1 cup onion, diced
1/2 cup carrots, diced
1/4 cup celery, diced
6-8 ounces pre-cooked chicken sausage, about 2 links, sliced into halves(I use Trader Joe's Sweet Italian Chicken Sausage.)
1 15 oz can chickpeas or white beans, drained and rinsed
1 14.5 oz can chicken broth
1 14.5 oz can diced tomatoes
2 cups chopped kale, spinach, chard, or other leafy green
dried thyme
salt and pepper, to taste

Heat olive oil in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium high heat. Add garlic, onions, carrots, and celery. Cook, stirring occasionally, until vegetables begin to soften and smell awesome. Add squash, thyme, salt, and pepper, and stir to combine. Cook a few minutes, until squash starts to become tender. Add sausage, and tomatoes with their juice. Add broth and beans. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer until the squash is very tender, or as tender as you like it. Add greens and cook until wilted (heartier green, like kale, will take longer than spinach to wilt).

Count on roasted green tomatoes.

2010-10-10T22:36:00.001-05:00

I attempted to make seafood gumbo today. Key word: Attempted. Maybe it was because I was doubtful from the very beginning, or because Cajun cooking is way out of my league, or because quality seafood isn't readily available here. Or maybe I'm just confused about roux. Whatever the reason, I ended up with a big pot of tasteless, watery, definitely-not-gumbo, which I made my husband throw out for me because I just didn't have the heart to do it myself. Then he gave me a hug and bought me a Big Mac. Let's never talk about this again, OK? Moving right along...

Contrary to what my week-long silence around here may suggest, I've been pretty busy in the kitchen lately. There were BLTs and corn chowder, made with the last of the season's tomato and corn bounty. There was black bean and butternut squash chili, not pictured, which I made on Monday night after I had eaten dinner and showered, and ate every day for lunch the rest of the week. Just thinking about it now makes me want to whip up another batch. There was a carrot, apple, and leek soup (adapted from here), that was good but not great, with very subtle flavors that I ultimately decided were too blah to share, but the picture was just so pretty that I couldn't resist. And besides, compared to the gumbo, that soup was a masterpiece. Wait, did I say gumbo? Oops. What gumbo?

And there were green tomatoes, which I cut into wedges and tossed with olive oil, salt, and pepper, then roasted in a 350-degree oven for 40 minutes, until the edges were blackened and caramelized, the texture sweet and creamy. I popped them in my mouth as I chopped vegetables for Bolognese last Sunday.

I originally wasn't going to share any of these with you. They were repeats, and ho-hums, and non-photogenic. And last week's Bolognese was a tough act to follow, which was why I attempted "you-know-what" this afternoon. But you know what? There is nothing wrong with those simple, everyday meals. They may not be amazing recipes, but they get me through the week. They're the ones that work, the ones I can count on when others have me scratching my head, stirring and tasting and slumping my shoulders, wondering what I did wrong.

I am not giving up on gumbo, just so you know. But I may have to look over the shoulder of a certain Louisianan during a real gumbo-making session, taking heavy notes, before I attempt Round 2.

Roasted Green Tomatoes

green tomatoes, as many as you have on hand, cut into wedges
olive oil
salt
pepper

Preheat oven to 350 F. Toss tomatoes with olive oil, salt, and pepper. Spread onto a rimmed baking pan or dish, and roast for 40 minutes, until the edges are blackened and caramelized. Add to pasta, or salad, or eat plain, straight from the oven. Yum!

All-time favorites, from my favorites.

2010-10-03T19:34:00.001-05:00

Many people may look back on their wedding and remember it as a single day of excitement, getting ready, hugs and kisses, special reunions. But ours was an entire weekend that I will never forget -- one that brought my family, my best friends, and my in-laws to one lake for four days. Everywhere I turned there was someone from a different part of my life, who knew me in a very different way. My girlfriends made garlands with my sisters, my mother, and my aunt on the patio. My dad went for a boat ride with my father-in-law and my brother-in-law. My college roommate danced with my husband's cousin. It was all a bizarre, overwhelming, and truly incredible blessing.

And I wouldn't have it any other way. Why have just one wedding day when you can spend an entire wedding weekend celebrating the love, family, and friendships that have made you and your husband who you are, and who make up the foundation of what your marriage will become? I could relive that weekend over and over again. Of course, the celebration had to end eventually, but I was lucky enough to bring some souvenirs with me.

The night before the wedding, at our rehearsal dinner, my girlfriends presented me with a recipe book. A homemade recipe book of homemade dishes, passed along from grandmothers and mothers, Spanish house moms and aunts, college roommates and high school best friends. These are the recipes that my friends grew up with, that got them through late-night cram sessions and soccer practice and bar exams, that helped them make new homes in places like Guatemala, New York, Spain, and Denver. Each recipe has a story. Each recipe makes me smile. And hungry.

I let Murdo choose the first recipe we would share here. The one he picked wasn't passed down from a grandmother in the old country, with secret codes and special seasonings. It's an Emeril recipe, for spaghetti bolognese, and in the recipe book is labeled in all caps: MY ALL-TIME FAVORITE PASTA RECIPE. - DI. Well, if you know Di, you know that little message is saying a lot. And that's enough for me, really.

As as I read over the ingredients and the instructions, I quickly realized that this recipe and this dish are so very Murdo and I, and the perfect meal for a crisp Sunday afternoon in October. It brings together vegetables, garlic, sausage, beef, bacon, and tomatoes into one pot, to simmer on the stove for an hour or so while we go about our Sunday business. Murdo watched football, and I played with cameras and photos. At the end, in goes a pat of butter and a glug of cream. It's a meal that sticks to the ribs and makes you very happy for lazy Sundays with your husband and your cat.

Thank you Di, Leslie, Jenna, Krissy, Marci, Tori, Laurie, Nick, and to all who contributed to these touching, mouth-watering recipes. Each recipe is like sharing a favorite meal with my best friend -- whether I'm sitting at the dinner table with the Elkins family, or hanging out on the couch with Jenna and a bowl of chickpeas. Here's to a lifetime of cooking, eating, and smiling together!

Diana's All-Time Favorite Pasta, or Spaghetti Bolognese (from Emeril Lagasse)
I halved this recipe and cooked the sauce in my Le Creuset dutch oven. It ended up thickening plenty after just 1 hour, rather than 1 and 1/2.

1 tablespoon olive oil
4 ounces bacon or pancetta, diced
1 1/2 cups chopped yellow onions
3/4 cup diced carrots
3/4 cup diced celery
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
2 bay leaves
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1/4 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 pound ground beef or ground veal
1/2 pound pork sausage, removed from the casings, or ground pork
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 cup red wine
2 (14 1/2-ounce) cans crushed tomatoes and their juice
1 (14 1/2-ounce) can tomato sauce
1 cup beef or chicken stock or broth
2 teaspoons sugar
1/4 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley leaves
1 pound spaghetti
1 cup freshly grated Parmesan

In a large pot, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Add the bacon and cook, stirring, until browned and the fat is rendered, 4 to 5 minutes. Add the onions, carrots and celery and cook, stirring, until soft, 4 to 5 minutes. Add the garlic, salt, pepper, bay leaves, thyme, oregano, cinnamon, and nutmeg and cook, stirring, for 30 seconds. Add the beef and sausages, and cook, stirring, until no longer pink, about 5 minutes. Add the tomato paste and cook, stirring, for 1 to 2 minutes. Add the wine and cook, stirring, to deglaze the pan and remove any browned bits sticking to the bottom of the pan, and until half of the liquid is evaporated, about 2 minutes.

Add the tomatoes and their juices, the tomato sauce, beef broth, and sugar and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer, stirring occasionally, to keep the sauce from sticking to the bottom of the pan, until the sauce is thickened and flavorful, about 1 1/2 hours. Add the cream, butter, and parsley, stir well, and simmer for 2 minutes. Discard the bay leaves and adjust the seasoning, to taste. Remove from the heat and cover to keep warm until ready to serve.

Meanwhile, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the pasta and return the water to a low boil. Cook, stirring occasionally to prevent the noodles from sticking, until al dente, 8 to 10 minutes. Drain in a colander.

Add the pasta to the sauce, tossing to coat. Add 1/2 cup of the cheese and toss to blend. Divide among pasta bowls and serve with the cheese passed tableside. (Alternatively, toss only the desired portion of pasta with a bit of the sauce at a time in a serving bowl, reserving the remainder for another meal.)

Serves 6-8.

Eat, drink, and be married.

2010-09-28T22:11:00.000-05:00

So we did it. I may have gotten flustered during the ceremony and said the wrong words, and got grass stains on my wedding dress from jumping around in an apple orchard, and never got around to eating a piece of pie, but we did it. I woke up to cloudy skies, and shivered as a strong wind blew across the lake during one of many photo sessions, and when I heard someone say "It's misting outside!" sometime in the night, I simply brushed it off and kept on dancing. We're married now. We did it.

When you have a DIY wedding, but you're far from a DIY bride, it certainly helps to have friends and family who will lend a helping hand. Or maybe 50 helping hands, during a span of 16 months, including one long, whirlwind weekend of joining together and making it all finally happen.

That's what I saw when I looked around on my wedding day -- every brown basket filled with apples, every light strung across the trunk of a tree, every sign posted along the grounds, every green flag and pie stand and hydrangea bunch and baby's breath garland and lit candle and song played represented someone very close to us who helped make our day incredibly special. Our wedding was not only a union of two people madly in love, but a proud display of what beauty and perfection results from family and friends who truly care. My heart swells with love and gratitude for each of them, and you know who you are. Thank you.

And now, it's back to life as usual. We're taking our honeymoon in February, to Mexico, when it's good and cold in Chicago and a week at the beach is sure to cure any bout of winter blues. There are boxes of china to unpack and recipes upon recipes upon recipes to share. And there is a husband, and a wife, and every day, together.

Getting hitched.

2010-09-21T21:27:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow, I'm packing up my wedding dress, green sandals, a whole lot of brown paper bags, wrapped and unwrapped presents, clothespins and flower wire, and a fat brown cat into the car, and I'm heading east on I-94 with my fiance to a lake house in Michigan, where we'll be married on Saturday.

I wish I could write more -- about what I've been up to, and where I've been, and what I've been eating -- but right now, my head is a jumbled mess of to-dos and what-ifs and I-hopes and can't-waits.

So here's a sneak peak of a bride-to-be's everyday during the last month before her wedding, as told through my cameras. Also, a recipe for a salad I had two weeks ago with my sister, after a trip to the craft store where we bought lots of ribbon, and right before we sat down in her sunny kitchen and practiced making baby's breath garlands. This salad was so good, with smoked salmon and tomatoes and a touch of dill, and will forever remind me of wedding projects and baby's breath.

I'll be back next week with stories and photos and a long sigh of relief. See you on the other side!

Summer Farfalle Salad with Smoked Salmon (Cooking Light)

3 cups uncooked farfalle (bow tie pasta)
2 cups cherry tomatoes, halved
1/4 cup chopped fresh dill
1 (6-ounce) bag baby spinach
1 teaspoon grated lemon rind
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons cold water
1 1/2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
4 ounces (about 8 slices) smoked salmon, cut into thin strips

Cook pasta according to package directions, omitting salt and fat. Drain and rinse with cold water; drain.

Combine pasta, tomatoes, dill, and spinach in a large bowl, tossing gently to combine.

Combine lemon rind and next 5 ingredients (lemon rind through pepper) in a small bowl, stirring with a whisk. Drizzle over pasta mixture; toss gently to coat. Top with salmon.

Yield: 6 servings
Serving size: 2 cups
Calories per serving: 206

Not just yet.

2010-09-07T22:42:00.002-05:00

There was a chill in the air this Labor Day weekend. A September kind of chill that normally comes later in the month, not on that first weekend, when we're still hoping to soak in the last of summer's heat out on the boat. The sun came out here and there, but mostly just there.

We stayed out of the water the entire holiday, wearing jeans and sweatshirts, inching closer and closer to the bonfire until the wind picked up and had us scooting our chairs quickly back. Fall came blowing in with a vengeance, and as much as I'd like to welcome the open windows and the cooler temperatures and the rustling leaves (oh, and a September wedding in 18 days), I still feel like I didn't get to say a proper goodbye to summer.

So instead of getting excited about cooler evenings and big pots of soup and stick-to-the-bone meals and apple pies, I'm going to make a few final grasps at summer. Well, just one in particular.

This recipe for buffalo grilled shrimp was from my bachelorette party in Michigan, the weekend after July 4, when summer was at its peak and there was no end in sight. It was a perfect weekend for boating, and having drinks with girlfriends, and gathering around the kitchen island to a meal of appetizers. The sun was so hot and the day was so long and our bellies so full, we struggled to make it out to dinner. It was the kind of weekend when passing out from exhaustion at the end of the day is just proof of a summer well spent.

Buffalo Grilled Shrimp with Blue Cheese Dip (from Gourmet)

For blue cheese dip
1/2 cup sour cream
1/4 cup finely chopped scallions
2 tablespoons finely chopped flat-leaf parsley
1/2 cup crumbled blue cheese (2 ounces)
2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
1 1/2 teaspoons milk

For shrimp
18 jumbo shrimp (1 1/2 to 2 lb), peeled and deveined
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 stick unsalted butter, melted
1/4 cup hot sauce such as Frank’s RedHot
1/2 bunch celery, cut into 4-inch sticks

Make dip:
Stir together ingredients, 1/8 tsp salt, and 1/4 tsp pepper.

Make shrimp:
Prepare grill for direct-heat cooking over medium-hot charcoal (medium heat for gas)*

Toss shrimp with oil and 1/2 tsp each of salt and pepper. Oil grill rack, then grill shrimp, covered only if using a gas grill, turning once, until just cooked through, 7 to 8 minutes total.

Stir together butter and hot sauce in a large bowl. Add shrimp and toss until coated. Serve shrimp with dip and celery.

*Shrimp can be cooked in an oiled hot 2-burner grill pan over medium heat.

lake house.

2010-09-01T21:29:00.000-05:00

some shots taken over the summer
from the lake house in michigan
where we're headed
this weekend
for one last hurrah
to say goodbye to summer.
how it can it be september
already?

month.

2010-08-25T22:41:00.002-05:00

+ i'm getting married one month from today.
+ i made roasted broccoli with shrimp twice last week.
+ i also cried over wedding centerpieces. i'm ok now.
+ right now, there is tomato soup bubbling on the stove.
+ i also made meat loaf.
+ honey cafe's macaroni and cheese is amazing.
+ there are 12 ears of corn on my kitchen counter.
+ pancit is my favorite pot luck dish.
+ i also baked a cake.
+ i picked up my wedding dress from the seamstress today.
+ good night.

Jam! Jam! Jam!

2010-08-15T23:49:00.002-05:00

There are three snacks that I distinctively remember from my childhood that my sister would feed me. The first was a spoonful of peanut butter, which was just that. I remember licking it off the spoon like ice cream. The second was a bit more substantial and complicated: a slice of bread topped with an American cheese single and spread with leftover spaghetti sauce, then sprinkled generously with garlic powder and baked in the toaster oven. Classy, I know. We called it Crazy Bread.

And then there was Jilly Jam. Toast + butter + jam. Not only did I have Jilly Jam for breakfast, but it also became an afternoon snack, or right-before-bed snack, or just-because snack. I still get cravings for it. Just a few months back, all I wanted to eat after dinner was toast and jam, toast and jam. The cravings usually end abruptly, and don't return for another few months, or even years. But when Jenny made homemade jam a couple of weeks ago, the Jilly Jam returned in full force.

Jenny made this strawberry lemon jam herself, and filled cute little jars tied with ribbon and labeled J+M, for Jacqui and Murdo. We passed them out as party favors at my wedding shower, because Jenny is crafty and creative like that, and I'm just grateful for that.

The jam has a refreshing lemony tang to it, with chunks of strawberry that spread smoothly over toast. Fruit on bread. Who thinks of this stuff? Geniuses, that's who.

I wish I could tell you more about the jam, like how easy it is to make, except that I didn't make it. I just ate it, so all I can tell you is that it tastes good. But just look at that recipe. All you need are strawberries, sugar, lemons, and jars. Jenny found that a bunch of recipes called for pectin to help the jam keep longer, but she wasn't too into the hard-to-pronounce ingredients and chemistry behind pectin, so she went without. The jam only lasts for two weeks in the fridge, but when you're on a Jilly Jam kick, that's really not a big issue.

Jammin’ on the One (or Jenny’s Strawberry Lemon Jam)

4 lbs (64 oz or ~4 pints) strawberries
2 1/4 cup sugar
2 1/2 large lemons, juice and zest

1. Clean, hull, and slice berries. Put a small plate in the freezer.
2. Place berries in a dutch oven. Toss with lemon juice, zest, and sugar.
3. Heat over medium heat until mixture boils and becomes frothy. Lower heat to medium low and let simmer for 30 minutes. Continue to simmer until a small amount of liquid gels when spooned onto the chilled plate.
4. Remove from heat. Let cool in pot for 5 minutes, then pour in a rectangular baking pan to cool. When at room temperature, ladle into jars.

Yields 7 jars. Refrigerate up to 2 weeks.

playa del carmen.

2010-08-05T22:14:00.000-05:00

i've been looking into honeymoon destinations.
it's making me miss mexico.

A birthday and a cake.

2010-08-04T08:41:00.000-05:00

Last year, I almost missed my blog's first birthday completely. This year, I've come prepared. With CAKE.

This is no ordinary cake, people. I can't really say it's my very first cake, since that would be failing to acknowledge the little berry cake that graced this blog's pages nearly a year ago, baked in a mini pie tin and dedicated to my blog twin. Since then, I made a very casual resolution to learn how to bake. There have been muffins, and more muffins, and not much else. But today, there is my second cake, for my blog's second birthday. Happy birthday, Happy Jack Eats!

With another year passed, it's impossible not to look back and reflect a bit, and I'm OK with that because we need it. I need it. To look at what I was doing a year from today, and two years from today, and everything in between and just allow the "wow" of it all to settle in. That first year was all about discovery -- finding my voice, meeting new people, opening my eyes to a world of new foods and the blogs that embrace them. The second year, there was growth.

I picked up a film camera for the first time and learned to look through a new lens, and with each new camera there came a new way of seeing things. Suddenly, it wasn't just about taking pictures of my food. There was the light, the shadows, the composition, the background, the people. And then there was more than just food. I often catch myself noticing little things, like the way the light hits the trees a certain way, or the reflection of the sky in a puddle, and stopping to appreciate it for just a moment. Like this.

I'm also learning to appreciate the art of baking. There is a quiet calmness to it that I've come to notice -- a relaxing beat that I can sometimes miss from the rush of cooking on the stove, when the mission is to get food on the table, and once the pan is hot you better get moving. There is nothing quite like the smell of baked goods in the oven, and pulling out a cake that looks and smells just like a cake should.

This is a blueberry-lemon bundt cake that I made with a bundt pan I got from my first wedding shower and baked for the guests at my second wedding shower. (Whew. Yes, we've been very busy lately because have you heard? I'm also getting married this year which means besides all the picture-taking and baking and growing, there has been a wedding to plan, which is a type of life-changing craziness all its own.) Anyway, about this cake already. I don't know about you, but I'm all about lemons in everything. This cake has a great lemony base, with bits of gooey blueberry throughout, kind of resembling a blueberry muffin but then that great, moist cake texture comes in and you realize that this is so not a muffin. It's cake, and it's good, and you should make it. Don't pretend like you haven't seen blueberries all over the place lately. They're just calling your name. I'll go right ahead and say it: If I can bake it, you can bake it.

I think the best part about birthdays, though, besides the cake and the looking back and the growth and all of that, is the looking forward. What will the next year bring? Well first, a husband. And then, naturally, cookies. (And maybe another camera. But don't tell the hubby.)

P.S. That will be the last time I use the word "hubby" in this space. Promise.

Blueberry-Lemon Bundt Cake (from Martha Stewart)

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus 1 teaspoon for blueberries and zest
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
1 cup packed light-brown sugar
1 cup granulated sugar
4 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup sour cream
2 cups blueberries
2 tablespoons grated lemon zest
Nonstick cooking spray, for pan
Confectioners' sugar, for dusting (optional)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a bowl, whisk 2 1/2 cups flour with baking powder and salt; set aside.

In a mixing bowl, cream butter and sugars on high speed until light and fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time, beating until incorporated. Beat in vanilla. Reduce speed to low; add flour mixture in three additions, alternating with two additions of sour cream.

In a bowl, toss blueberries and zest with remaining teaspoon flour; gently fold into batter. Coat a 12-cup nonstick Bundt pan with cooking spray. Spread batter in prepared pan.

Bake cake on bottom rack of oven until a toothpick inserted into center of cake comes out clean, 60 to 70 minutes. Cool in pan 20 minutes. Invert onto a rack; cool completely, top side up. Dust with confectioners’ sugar before serving, if desired.

yashica.

2010-07-27T23:35:00.000-05:00

newest addition.
he says i have too many cameras.
i disagree.

Tim's banana chocolate chip muffins.

2010-07-25T16:23:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, it's nice to be home. In the past two months, I've been to Michigan four times, St. Louis for a weekend, Mexico and back again, one wedding, two wedding showers, and a graduation party. I've rushed home from work on Friday nights to pack up the car, say good-bye to the cat, and live out of a duffel bag for the weekend. I've come back to empty fridges and no time for grocery shopping. And trust me, I'm not complaining. This is what I love about summer.

With all the coming and going, staying still becomes almost a treat. You know what else is a treat? Banana chocolate chip muffins.

I made these last Saturday morning -- the first Saturday in a long time that I actually woke up in my own bed and got to putter around the apartment, cooking, cleaning and taking pictures with no real hurry or schedule. I had been staring at this muffin recipe all week, which is something I often do when preparing to make something new. I find the recipe and bookmark it, then revisit it a few times a day to read over the ingredients and the process, to make sure I really want to make this and if I even can, to mentally side aside some time to take it slowly. I think a quiet Saturday morning is the best time to make muffins.

My favorite part of these muffins are the chocolate chips. I love chocolate chips. I think every dessert should be dotted with chocolate chips. And I'll be completely honest with you: As I mixed the chips into the batter, I got pretty excited. Here I am, baking! With chocolate chips! From scratch! What a great way to start a Saturday.

Alas, this story of a Saturday ends in destruction. The muffins turned out beautifully -- moist and banana-ey, with bits of melted chocolate chips throughout. And oh-so-easy. Unfortunately, I only got to eat one. I gave away half and left the rest in a bag on the counter, then spent the rest of my Saturday out and about. I came home to a bag of muffin crumbs on the floor.

It completely slipped my mind that our cat, Tim, hunts bread products. His favorite food is Hawaiian sweet bread. He's attacked and demolished cinnamon rolls and Subway sandwiches. He is known to catch loaves of bread and howl in the middle of the night, waking us up to observe his prey, which he has hoarded in the closet. He got to the muffins. And though he didn't eat them, he made sure no one else could.

That Tim. I forgave him, of course. And it's a good thing I won't be leaving town again for a while, not only because it's nice to be home, but also because I have this beast to keep my eye on. Besides, there's more baking to do. I deserve another banana chocolate chip muffin.

Banana Chocolate Chip Muffins (from Bon Appétit)

1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
2/3 cup sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup mashed ripe bananas (about 2 large)
1 large egg
1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted
1/4 cup milk
3/4 cup semisweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350°F. Line twelve 1/3-cup muffin cups with foil muffin liners. Mix flour, sugar, baking powder and salt in large bowl. Mix mashed bananas, egg, melted butter and milk in medium bowl. Stir banana mixture into dry ingredients just until blended (do not overmix). Stir in chocolate chips.

Divide batter among prepared muffin cups, filling each about 3/4 full. Bake muffins until tops are pale golden and tester inserted into center comes out with some melted chocolate attached but no crumbs, about 32 minutes. Transfer muffins to rack; cool. Store far away from cats.

Makes 12 muffins.

Happy summer, with chowder.

2010-07-20T22:26:00.003-05:00

Right now, as I write this, I'm surrounded by stuff. We had our wedding shower this past Sunday and came home with boxes and bags filled with shiny new things, like pans and salad spinners and vacuums and martini glasses and a Yoda tree topper, and even some old things, like a Kodak folding Brownie camera from 1915. It's overwhelming, looking at all of these boxes and trying to rearrange dishes in the cabinets, replacing the old with the new.

As I drove home from the shower, I was dreading the unpacking process. But once we started up, opening all the packages and watching our new life unfold before our eyes, I realized that this is it. This toaster oven will be ours until it's old and rusty. This vacuum will clean our apartment and next, our house. We'll be using these new spoons as we sit around the dinner table with our kids. And believe it or not, these thoughts of the future make it seem not so overwhelming anymore. It's calming, and it's happy. Everything is coming together.

My fridge is packed, too. Talk about overwhelming -- it's about that time of year when I have too many vegetables than I know what to do with, and I kind of love it. In less than one week, I've accumulated a half pound of okra, a bag full of green beans, a bunch of green onions, beets beets beets, plump tomatoes, cucumbers big and small, five zucchini, two summer squashes, and 13 ears of sweet corn. Needless to say, I've been cooking a lot. Last week there was the corn, zucchini, and black bean saute. Tonight, there were roasted green beans splashed with olive oil and lemon. And there were two batches of corn chowder.

Two very different batches of corn chowder. The second was just last night, which I've posted about before, with bacon and butter and potatoes and heavy whipping cream. You know, that kind of corn chowder. The kind that makes you grab at all the sweet corn you can get, and who cares if it's sweltering hot outside, and let's just add one more slice of bacon. There will be chowder.

The first isn't that kind of chowder, but still very good, and certainly worth making. It's light and easy, for those days when you'd rather skip the bacon and just enjoy the freshness and simplicity of the season's best produce. It's the kind that you make when your fiance is out of town because according to him, there should be no other chowder except that with bacon. Instead, this one features summer squash, which is flowing like water at the farmers markets right now, so go ahead and just make this already.

I made mine in my brand new Le Creuset, which my sister Jenny got for me as a bridesmaid present when she got married. Fresh vegetables, corn chowder, shiny new things, and a future (and fridge) full of possibilities. Happy summer, indeed.

Summer Squash and Corn Chowder (from Cooking Light)
The original recipe does call for bacon, but I skipped it and thought it was mighty fine without.

2 teaspoons olive oil
2-3 cloves garlic, minced
3/4 cup sliced green onions, divided
1/4 cup chopped celery
2 cups yellow summer squash, chopped
2 cups fresh sweet corn
2 1/2 cups 1% low-fat milk, divided
salt and pepper to taste

In a large Dutch oven, heat oil over medium-high heat. Add 1/2 cup onions, garlic, celery, and squash to pan, and saute 8 minutes or until vegetables are tender.

Reserve 1 cup corn and set aside. Place the remaining corn and 1 cup milk in a blender, and process until smooth. (I used a stick blender and a large bowl, and left the mixture slightly chunky.) Add corn mixture and remaining milk and corn to pan. Reduce heat to medium and cook 5 minutes or until thoroughly heated. Salt and pepper to taste. Serve with a garnish of green onions and fresh grape tomatoes.

Serves 4.

Textures of love. And veggies.

2010-07-15T21:58:00.000-05:00

When you love someone, you love all of him. There's no separating the good and the bad and taking what you want, like picking the onions or peas out of a dish and setting them aside, only to throw them out or leave them for someone else to finish off. Every piece of him comes together to become who he really is, who you fell in love with, and who you want to be with for the rest of your life.

I was thinking about love as I ate dinner tonight. There was something about the way all of the ingredients melded together to create this perfect dish. It was a medley of sorts, a handful of vegetables I bought at the farmers market yesterday -- zucchini, green onions, beet greens, sweet corn, tomatoes -- sauteed with black beans, squirted with lemon, topped with a sunny side up egg, and mixed together with the yolk's rich sauce. No fancy seasonings or complicated sauces, but simply the flavor and texture of each ingredient, strong enough to stand alone but mixed together to create something much more. Yeah, it was good.

I took my plate outside before I dug in, and set it out on the balcony to take a few pictures. As I stood on a chair and took overhead shots of my plate, Murdo watched from the window and shook his head. That's when I realized that I have my quirks, too, and he loves all of them, too. My obsession for eggs, my need to take a photo from every angle before I eat, my love for tinned sardines and ramen noodles (never together though, don't worry). Each is its own texture. I thought of all this while I ate, and it made me enjoy this dish even more.

You probably have a recipe like this one in your back pocket. It's a simple go-to and a great way to enjoy summer's bounty. It's quick and requires little thinking. And you probably have your favorite veggies that you like to add, but I'm sharing this particular recipe with you because like I said, there was something about the textures of these ingredients that just went together so lovingly. The black beans work as a soft, thick base, while the beet stems offer crunch. The zucchini is tender and meaty, and the corn is sweet and plump. The tomatoes are juicy, the egg is rich and creamy.

I understand that love is much more complex that a pot of black beans and veggies. Trust me, I get that. But for just a moment tonight, it was so much simpler. It was a smile and a shake of the head through a window, and for a moment it all made sense.

Corn, Zucchini, and Black Bean Saute

2 medium zucchini, chopped
Corn stripped from one ear
1 bunch beet greens and stems, chopped
handful of green onions, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
1 can of black beans, rinsed and drained
handful of grape tomatoes
2 tbsp olive oil
salt and pepper
fresh lemon juice

Heat olive oil in large saute pan. Add garlic and green onion, cook for a minute or two before adding zucchini, then cook another 3-5 minutes. Add corn and black beans, cook until heated through, about another 5 minutes. Add beet greens and stems and cook until greens are just wilted, then add tomatoes. Squirt juice from a wedge or two of lemon, and salt and pepper to taste. Top with a sunny side up egg.

walk.

2010-07-14T23:51:00.000-05:00

summer is in full swing.
today was sweltering hot
and humid
and i loved it.

Wedding pie.

2010-07-07T23:02:00.001-05:00

There comes a moment in every bride-to-be's life when she says to herself, "Oh, crap." And not because she's freaked out about getting married, but because her wedding is in three months and that's about the time when "Oh, crap" becomes a regular phrase in her daily routine.

Needless to say, we've been busy around these parts lately, but thankfully, I've been checking a whole lot of "Oh craps" off my list and it feels pretty good. We registered. We ordered invitations. We met with the florist. We built stairs. We tasted PIE.

Say it with me now: PIE. PAHHH. As in, weddin' PAHHH. That's the great thing about having a wedding at a lake house in Michigan, in a big tent in the backyard, in September. Pie just feels so right.

We went to a place called Crane's Pie Pantry in Fennville, Michigan. The bakery and restaurant also had an orchard, with rows and rows of fruit to be picked and baked and loved. Next door, there was a house with a row of overalls hanging on a clothesline. Inside the restaurant, ads from the '50s hung on the wall and an old school bench stood in the corner. Laura Crane brought us pie slices on a tray, served with glass mugs filled with milk.

And the pie. People, the PAHHH. The only thing better than a warm slice of gooey, cozy pie is 10 of them, in every flavor, circling the table as you hold a fork firmly in hand and declare that they're all good. I want them all. There was apple, of course, and cherry, rhubarb, strawberry-rhubarb, blueberry, blueberry strudel, apple crisp, peach, and cherry crisp. Good thing it takes about 30 pies to feed 200 wedding guests, because I might just get what I want. All of them.

I may also need an apron to wear over my wedding dress, because I'm not sure I'll be able to stay away from the blueberries. Add wedding apron to the list. Oh, crap.

We're getting there, though. Definitely getting there.

his.

2010-06-25T08:54:00.000-05:00

happy birthday, murdo.
let's spend every birthday
together
for the rest of our lives.
xo

Summer. And strawberries.

2010-06-23T23:56:00.000-05:00

Oh, alright. After someone (Murdo) left a comment demanding I "stop resting on [my] Mexico trip laurels," I figured it's about time I stop dreaming about my past in paradise and get right back to the present. Because have you heard the good news? It's summer around these parts, and I mean officially. The solstice has come and gone, the grills have been fired up, and the thunder storms are in full force. (I'm still recovering from my crazy drive home through this evening's storm, which left light posts and split trees strewn about the streets, and ended with a rainbow and a yellow sky and a cool breeze, just like that.)

My parents' garden is one of my favorite parts of summer, because every time I visit them, there is a new surprise around every corner, sprouting straight from the earth. I can't wait for the vegetables to arrive -- tomatoes, cucumbers, zucchini, bell peppers, long beans -- to hopefully jolt me out of this cooking rut I've been stuck in and back in the game. But first, of course, there are strawberries.

Strawberries! They're like jewels, growing right in their backyard, ready for the pickin' and the eatin'. Oh summer. I love you.

We ate them in the form of a tart, after Jenny realized she didn't buy enough strawberries at the store, and then we remembered that oh hey, we can just walk right outside and grab a few from the garden. My dream is to one day live out this exact scenario again, except with lemons. One day, with lemons. Maybe.

I should note that upon tasting the tart's filling with the glaze, my sister Jenny actually squealed and did a jumping dance for about three seconds. It's good stuff, all of it -- the squealing, the strawberries, the tart, the garden, summer. I'm glad Murdo gave me that big poke in the ribs I needed to sit down at the computer and share it with you. Sometimes, that's really all you need. That, and strawberries.

Strawberry-Almond Cream Tart (from Cooking Light)
Jenny made this tart for Father's Day with a few adjustments: She used 8 oz of cream cheese instead of 5, slightly reduced the sugar, and halved the glaze. It was yummy.

Crust:
36 honey graham crackers (9 sheets)
2 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons butter, melted
4 teaspoons water
Cooking spray

Filling:
2/3 cup (about 5 ounces) 1/3-less-fat cream cheese
1/4 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon almond extract

Topping:
6 cups small fresh strawberries, hulled and divided
2/3 cup sugar
1 tablespoon cornstarch
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons sliced almonds, toasted

Preheat oven to 350°.

To prepare crust, place crackers in a food processor; process until crumbly. Add 2 tablespoons sugar, butter, and 4 teaspoons water; pulse just until moist. Place cracker mixture in a 9-inch round removable-bottom tart pan lightly coated with cooking spray, pressing into bottom and up sides of pan to 3/4 inch. Bake at 350° for 10 minutes or until lightly browned. Cool completely on a wire rack.

To prepare filling, combine cream cheese, 1/4 cup sugar, and extracts in a medium bowl; stir until smooth. Spread cream cheese mixture evenly over bottom of tart shell.

To prepare topping, place 2 cups strawberries in food processor, and process until smooth. Combine strawberry puree, 2/3 cup sugar, and cornstarch in a small saucepan over medium heat; stir with a whisk. Bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Reduce heat to low; cook 1 minute. Remove glaze from heat. Cool to room temperature, stirring occasionally.

Combine the remaining 4 cups strawberries and juice; toss to coat. Arrange berries, bottoms up, in a circular pattern over filling. Spoon half of glaze evenly over berries (reserve remaining glaze for another use). Sprinkle nuts around edge. Cover and chill 3 hours.

Makes 10 servings.
Calories per serving: 235

paradise.

2010-06-14T22:59:00.000-05:00

for eight days and seven nights
i actually lived here.

Italian and Indonesian in Mexico.

2010-06-07T21:50:00.000-05:00

About that vacation in Mexico...Let's just dive right into the food, shall we?

So you might have already guessed that I took a lot of pictures on the trip. But even with all that beautiful beach and blue sky and palm trees and smiling faces and iguanas, I found myself enjoying snapping shots at the dinner table the most. After a long day of sun and water and drinks, we'd get all cleaned up and refreshed and find each other at one of the many restaurants at the resort. It was like a dinner party every night with the people you love the most, in a beautiful setting with all the food you could ask for. People, this was my kind of vacation.

You know, as opposed to the kind of vacation with lots of sight seeing and cultural activities and exploring, which I also love, don't get me wrong. But this was more of a relaxing trip, when everything is taken care of and there are no prices on the menus and the only decision you have to make is whether to eat Mexican food or sushi? Steak or seafood? Indonesian or Italian? Yes, this resort had all of these restaurants and more, and I ate at all of them. And more.

Pictured above: Italian. There was Caprese salad, antipasti, risotto, beef carpaccio, and seafood pasta. Pictured below: Indonesian, with lumpia, samosas, pad thai, and sweet and sour duck.

One night, when we couldn't make a decision, we ate one dinner early and a second dinner later. We even got overly ambitious and planned on ordering late-night room service before bed, but we ended up passing out in a food coma. Such is life when on vacation in Mexico.

beach.

2010-06-03T22:29:00.000-05:00

we'd usually head to the beach
after breakfast.
it's a nice habit to get into.

Welcome to Mexico.

2010-06-02T22:16:00.000-05:00

Whew. I hope you're ready for a whole lot of Mexico, because that's where I've been for the past eight days and seven nights, and we've got a ton of catching up to do. Are you ready?

Eight days and seven nights. It's funny how vacations work, especially long ones, which I haven't been on in quite a while. Three day weekends are just enough for a good rest and refuel, but a whole week? That's settling into a whole new way of life, and when that new way of life is in Mexico, it's pretty hard to go back to the old way. I'm still adjusting. This morning I realized that there is no breakfast buffet in my kitchen, and my shoulders slumped just a bit. Tonight, I buried my face in the sarong I had been wearing all week, and I smelled beach and pool and salt water and sun in a single deep breath, and I exhaled a sigh of longing. I miss Mexico.

And yesterday, at the airport, I thought of all the cooking I would have to do when I got home, and the meal planning and the grocery shopping and the recipe searching, and I won't lie to you: I scrunched my face a little and declared I was not looking forward to it. Not when I had been fed like this all week long.

I suppose I should tell you where we were, and why. My entire family was at the Valentin Imperial Maya All-Inclusive Resort just outside of Playa del Carmen in Mexico. We watched my sister get married on the beach to the man she has loved for the last 10 years, and we celebrated all week long.

So I hope you don't mind, but the next several posts (and perhaps the next several after) will be dedicated to Mexico. There will be food, faces, and ocean. Meanwhile, I'll be transitioning back to reality, and eventually I'll remember that being served and pampered in a different country is all fine and good, but I really do belong here, creating and living.

You can see my Mexico photo collection, in progress, at Flickr.

tea.

2010-05-22T11:17:00.000-05:00

my sister is getting married
next sunday
in mexico
!!!
a couple of weekends ago
we celebrated her end of single life
with the usual drinking
and dancing.
but first
there was afternoon tea.
which, and i have to say it,
was simply divine.