Documenting A Weekend (Or A Lack Thereof)

Alexandria's Opening Night 11/18/2011

My dear friend and co-star of Spatula Sarah says where you find a foodie, you find a camera in hand and guests at the dinner table rolling their eyes.  It's true. Almost any time I go out to eat, I take my camera. I never know when I will need to capture a meal in a photograph.

This weekend while I had my camera on me at all times, I only took the photograph you see here. And it doesn't even capture the deliciousness of the meal. If anything, it documents a food memory I always want to remember.

During the fall and early winter, often I find myself as a hunter's widow. At first I wasn't a big fan of that new role. But as the seasons have come and gone, I've learned to enjoy the time in our quiet house when I grade, cook, write, work on projects, and/or catch up on Jersey Shore. I've realized alone time really nurtures my interior life. But after 36 hours I really start to miss FD.

This weekend was not so quiet as most, though. It began with a family dinner at my house with my in-laws and my sister-in-law on Thursday night. Then us ladies departed around 10 p.m. to get seats for the midnight showing of the epic Twilight Saga's Breaking Dawn (which was fucking awesome, despite what any haters would say.) Friday afternoon after Big F and FD got back from the marsh, FD took off for the island, and Sarah came over to run through our Winter Wheat presentation entitled "Food Writing: Subgenre or Multigenre?" Then, joined by her hubs, we headed to Findlay for the opening of Alexandria's, where Michael from Revolver is the head chef. (The mole is the die for. An in-depth review is forthcoming.) We met up with G and E there and had a great time; the only thing missing for me was FD. Saturday morning Sarah and I gave our presentation, which went exceptionally well, and then Saturday night I had a date with my sis SEM at Revolver.

What's funny is I had imagined taking lots of pictures at family dinner, at Alexandria's, at Winter Wheat, and at Revolver. It was weekend full of a lot of my favorite people and my favorite food. But the lighting wasn't all that great at Alexandria's. And at Revolver, the opportunity never presented itself for SEM and I to "snap" some pics of us. To force a photographic moment is way worse than not taking any at all. The chicken meatballs that SEM ordered at Revolver were gorgeous; the perfectly cut pieces of toast with an even spread of cream cheese and herbs standing like small pyramids on SEM's dish are embedded in my mind. And seeing her in a pretty dress and feeling all girly in my Odd Molly dress was the perfect way to eat a meal celebrating her moving on in her life and going to LA.  I can't help to wonder, though, if sometimes the best meals are better honored as memories.

In an age where Facebook has made us all feel like celebrities with our need to post every last picture of our comings and goings, it was nice to have a weekend with some of my family and best friends that I can cherish as vivid memories, without photographs. And being surrounded my the ones I loved, especially after FD left for his trip, made my weekend feel a lot less lonely. Great friends truly are one of the best parts of life.

Though a part of me does wish I would have taken just a few more pics, at least for my journal...

Pizza & PJ's

 After a long week of teaching, grading 125 essays, conferencing with students, taking the Volvo to the shop, spending a couple of hundred dollars to fix the Volvo, and dealing with a bunch of other crap, FD and I really needed a pizza and pj night-in.

Clearly, Bleu agreed.

Before our gluten-free days, we used to make killer pizzas on a homemade dough. But, presently, I've been disappointed with almost every pizza baking kit I've come across, and I just don't feel like working with several GF flours that don't rise and never seem to work out. We've started to relying heavily on frozen GF doughs, especially O'Doughs.

This Friday night our pizza journey began when we realized we only had one O'Dough's crust left. I ran to Walt Churchill's in Perrysburg to pick up another box or two, but they were sold out.

I considered making a GF pizza crust from scratch, but quite honestly, I wasn't in the mood for cooking, let alone experimenting with a new recipe.

So we had a GF frozen pizza crust competition between O'Dough's and Udi's, which we found deep in the deep freezer.

Udi's

Same ingredients. Two different crusts. Who would win?

Rather than following the Udi's baking instructions, we warmed up the crust for 5 minutes at 400. Then we put the toppings on and baked it for an additional eight minutes. Udi's crusts are easy to burn, so we watched it closely, especially because our oven is from hell. Literally, it runs 100 degrees hot. (Dear God, thank you for oven thermometers and please help our landlady find a new oven.)

The Udi's crust, while pipping hot, tasted like cardboard. But after letting it sit for a couple of minutes, it mellowed out and tasted like a crunchy cracker. And I am particularly proud of how beautiful the photograph the Udi's pizza turned out. (With my camera's user's manual, I'm teaching myself about photography and my camera.)

O'Doughs

The O'Doughs turned out wonderful as always. But strangely, Dan and I like the Udi's better. Its thin, crunchy crust was really flavorful. Whereas the O'Doughs had that GF-baked-good-after-taste in comparison.

I know I should be homemaking crusts, but really I need a break. And pizza is supposed to be a break from cooking, at least in my opinion. Maybe one of these days I'll make GF pizza dough from scratch. Until then, Udi's and O'Doughs are treating us just fine.

Oh, Yes, I Did Just Make Kale Dust

 Lately I've been obsessed with my homemade dried chili pepper dust (aka fairy dust).

But more so, I think I'm obsessed with food dehydrators. I don't own one, so I've been borrowing Sarah's to dry bunches of chili peppers, herbs, and whatever else I feel like.

A couple of days ago, I de-stemmed some Tuscan kale leaves, threw them on a tray, and turned on the dehydrator. Little did I know I just opened the gate to heaven.

Seriously, I just wanted to test oven-baked kale chips vs dehydrator ones. But I didn't get that far. When the kale chips were crisp enough, I packed them into my coffe grinder and made dust with them. It was as if The Goddess of Kale moved my hands; I didn't know what had happened until poured the dust into a recycled spice jar.

Kale dust smells like dried parsley on crack. The bitterness is alive but after a taste there's a sweet moment on the tail-end. Being the kale addict I am, I'm thinking that adding kale dust as a spice before roasting veggies, especially sweet potatoes, in the oven would be a good idea. Mixing it with olive oil and rubbing it on top and beneath a chicken's skin before roasting sounds fucking amazing. I could see it on scrambled eggs too.  Or in a cheese dip/spread. Maybe as a garnish for a soup or salad. I'm mean, for real, what couldn't you put kale dust on? Maybe yogurt.

With the remaining kale leaves, I sauteed them in butter and olive oil--a la Molly Wizenberg style--sprinkled them over a hot bed of mashed tators and threw some grilled sausages on top. My own little version of Bangers and Mash.

Trust me, I was tempted to sprinkle fairy and kale dust all over my Bangers and Mash, but I didn't. Only because I knew that this coming weekend I am having a full-on-cooking-Saturday when I plan to make a four course meal for FD that warms his bones after a day in the marsh.  The menu is forthcoming.

Fairy Dust: An Addiction

For my ex-wife potatoes and fairy dust addictions, I blame Sarah Lenz, my fierce friend and fantastic co-star of Spatula.  

If I end up on Intervention, she better be there too. It would only be a "I go, if you go" situation. I'm not watching her grind up Fairy Dust while I use commercial grade Cayenne Pepper. That would cause me to relapse. For sure. 

Let me back up a bit.

A couple of weeks ago, Sarah told me over lunch that she was attempting to make her own dried chili peppers. As much as I love her, I half-heartedly dismiss these projects she pronounces. It's not malicious. It's just she always has a project and is super-motivated, like me, so I see the results only days after she first mentions said-project to me. Why on earth get all fired up about the idea when within a week I can ponder the results for a long while? 

Needless to say, a couple of days later, Sarah calls to report about the dried chili flakes.  

"After I ground the dried chilies in my spice (aka coffee) grinder, they came out like dust," she said. 

"Like powder," I responded, dreamily. 

I'm telling you I could be on Intervention. I'm thinking about how to get a cut of this stuff. How to divy it up. How to parcel it out. Without getting caught. 

Dried Chili Dust = Foodie Cocaine. 

What's weird is, I don't remember tasting it with Sarah. I remember her telling me about it. And then suddenly her dryer was in my house. Trays of halved peppers drying, with their seeds and membranes intact, widened our nostrils and awoke our lungs. Sarah warned me to dry the chilis in the basement; I kept them in the kitchen. After 2 days of drying, I put the shriveled peppers in a coffee bean grinder, like Sarah told me to, and ground them, in several different rounds, into fairy dust. I put the dust in an washed pimento jar. Then I feel as though I woke up and remembered my life, again.

The most mind-blowing result of fairy dust is forthcoming in a BG News article (click on the "YourNews" tab), but I have to admit that I put them in/on/over almost everything I eat. 

I've mixed the fairy dust with butter and put it on steak. 

I've swirled it into mayo and used it as a dip for my ex-wife potatoes. 

I've sprinkled chicken breasts with it before a good sear and bake. 

I've even added it to my olive oil before massaging it into a whole chicken's skin--above and just beneath its surface.

Tonight, FD added it to his venison chili, a fall dish I live for. 

Rich with umami, FD's chilis are always acidic in a good way, complex in mouthfeel (the beans always stay firm and he always finds a chip or Nut Thin to add crunch while serving it), and hot(!!!) with chilies. The fairy dust just took it to a whole new level. Though, I have to admit that I almost put a few sprinkles of fairy dust on top of bowl just before my first spoonful. 

I told you I have a problem. 

To take some of the heat (pun intended) off me, I think Sarah should post the recipe. But if you read between the lines here and are feeling the itch from some fairy dust, you could easily put together the recipe from my post alone. 

I'm not one to leave food junkies hanging. But be warned: THIS SHIT IS HIGHLY ADDICTIVE!

I seriously will never buy dried chili flakes or chili pepper for my pantry ever again when it's so easy to make my own. 

...See, wouldn't Jeff have a field day with me? 

Thoughts During Breakfast After Morning Yoga

Photo from http://earthyogi.blogspot.com/

Early morning is the most sacred time to me. The house is sleepy and dark, and all is quiet--a perfect time to begin the day on my yoga mat.

My favorite part of my routine is the one that remains unseen by all except me and FD. Almost every morning during my warm-up twists, my big black Labrador, Bleu, yawns and stretches his way out of bed to do yoga with me. He's quite the fan of downward and upward dogs, so he does a little routine of bows and planks as I begin my sun salutation. Then he lies down next to my mat and takes a little nap. But the moment I sit down for seated twists or hero's pose, he finds his way into my lap with a big hug and will lay there like a little puppy. A 92 pound puppy. He's so sweet and snuggly that I can slide him around so I can continue my practice. It's a private moment that I cherish. Seriously, if you know Bleu, it's hard to imagine him calm and snuggly. But ever since he was an 8-week old puppy, we've done yoga together; it's our morning bonding time.

Each morning I change up my routine depending on what I need for the day. Sometimes it's rigorous standing and balancing poses like Warrior series or Side Angle twists. Sometimes I spend an hour on inversions or backbends. Other days I choose more restorative poses like legs up the wall or forward folds. No matter what routine I do, the one pose that is always most difficult for me is Savasana, or Corpse pose. My impulse is to skip it but I realize it is the most important pose to hold in order to remind myself throughout the day to "slow down and take a moment." This morning I acknowledged the resistance and used it to help me relax. In a sense, the resistance became a reminder for why I need Corpse pose so much. Yoga has a strange way of teaching us things about life.

Over my standard breakfast of plain yogurt and tea (I save the calories for later in the day and snacks), only minutes after my yoga routine, I had to remind myself to hold onto the quiet of morning yoga as I whizzed through the countless emails, student essays, the menu for the day, and the events in my planner--all before spin class at 9. So quickly the day hits me, and so quickly I hit the ground sprinting from thing to thing.

As I chow down breakfast and open up my laptop, sometimes I forget I only awoke from corpse pose an hour or two ago. The house brightens as the sun stretches through the windows and my to-do list gets longer and longer. Recording these special kernels of time, like my morning yoga with Bleu or my sacred dinner with FD, helps me remember and keeps me focused on what's really important in life.

A Sacred Dinner

A Night of Leftovers

The harmonica of Neil Young's "Natural Beauty" croons.

Through the kitchen, dining room, living room, my office.

We're in the moment of flow. FD in the dining room, me in my office.

Working on creating, sipping red wine, finding words for things.


Dinner was at the table. Us relaxing, lingering on things,


much of which was art, the act of creation--from poems to eggplant gratin to Earth to turnip soup.

Long after forks toasted their plates in a last bite, we sat, talking, the rain

a mere percussion for the guitar and harmonica.

Sunday Beef Stew

I admit.

I have a problem.

I'm a seasonal produce junkie.

I could very well end on Intervention, yelling at Candy that I wanted Jeff, pleading for one more LeCreuset dutch oven before the flight to Texas, and longingly staring out of a mini-van window at the sunset while thinking about the last time I roasted tomatoes or blanched a bunch a kale for the winter.

But by the time the leaves fall and trick-or-treaters carve their pumpkins, I'm done with lettuces, tomatoes, and summer squash, though.

Give me root vegetables and hearty stews, Honeycrisp apples and pears, and lots Butternut squash.

~

Candy: "'Being over tomatoes' isn't dealing with an addiction. What's next parsnips?"
Me: "Right????!!!??? Parsnips are sooooooooooo good. Just give me one more to chop for Jool's Favorite Stew, one of Jamie Oliver's favorite recipes. 
Candy: We can't do that, Amanda...


~


Due to poor planning on my behalf, I missed my sister-in-law's birthday celebration because I have five sections of papers--over 125 papers total--to grade over the weekend. Needless to say, I was depressed. To get out of the funk, I called my good friend and Spatula co-star Sarah for a pick-me-up. Per our style, she suggested a cooking afternoon after a morning of grading on Saturday. Perfect. Done.

We cooked and talked our hearts out. It felt good. It reminded me that breaks are important. That friends and family nourish us as much as food. That being a seasonal junkie is perfectly acceptable in some circles.

No wonder she's my cooking partner. We speak a language through food that says so much more. What a blessing.

~

It was cold today. And rainy. And dreary. And inside the house was the best place to be.

It was perfect.

First thing in the morning I graded. I pushed through all the syntax issues to finish in time for a little yoga and noontime tea. After lunch I started Jool's Favourite Beef Stew. I diced the butternut squash, cut the Niman Ranch chuck roast in one inch cubes and dusted it in GF flour, and scrubbed clean the taters-precious.

All the while listening to Taylor Swift, Eisley, Tori Amos, Liz Phair, Aimee Mann, and many other fine woman musicians.

I was in a zone, enveloped in the art of making something, centered in between complete knowledge and being completely mindless. What do you call it? Felt experience. I Found Flow. I Felt.

It's all the same.

But what wasn't the same was the beef stew. A recipe I have made countless times blossomed to life. Was it because I felt different? Was it because I finally figured out how to regulate my oven's temperature? Was it because I was making it for my love after a long fall weekend of outdoormanship?

No.

It was because I used carrots I harvest from a crop I planted this summer, I bought the potatoes and butternut squash for an awesome local farmer, and the sage came from my good friend Sarah.

Local is where it's at.

The only thing missing is local beef. Just wish I had more time to get to Luginbill Farms.

~

Candy: Really, would Jeff do a better job than me?
Me: Probably. He's mustache is compelling. A real deal breaker for getting help.
Candy: Will you go?
Me: It depends. Does Texas have local produce?
Candy: What if I tell you you'd be going to a place where there's a strong local foods movement? 
Me: Sign me up. 

Meal For One

When I sit down to a meal by myself, I always think of my Grandpa Prieur and Grandma Rita, both of whose spouses have passed and who often eat alone.

~

I've always been a loner. Back in my undergrad days I went to Country Kitchen in Ravenna, Ohio by myself at 3:00 a.m. I would order grilled cheese and hot tea. I would write until the sun peeked over the horizon through those commercial windows. I tipped well. The waitresses fought over me when I walked through the heavy glass doors.

~

Recently, my mum-in-law Sally told me a story about how her mom used to cook her dad his pork, eggs and toast in a mini cast iron pan. A meal for one.

The minute I logged in after talking with Sally I added a 5" Lodge cast iron skillet to my Amazon Wish List.

What a perfect little skillet for FD's GF Grilled Cheese.

Or for a meal for one.

~

My Grandma Rita is pushing 90, but everyday the woman makes three meals for herself.

Amen.

That's an amazing feat considering over 50,000,000 millon people eat fast food on a daily basis.

~

Tonight I cooked three boneless, skinless chicken breasts with a tomato and squash sauce, infamous ex-wife potatoes and roasted broccoli. Even though I made a meal for one, it was one that honored my food ethics and politics. I felt proud.

Most times when left my own devices, I order out.

I have an El Zarape addiction.

I often regret that decision.

~

What's funny is one of my all-time favorite people was supposed to join me for dinner tonight. But she bailed. I don't blame her. In fact, between you and me, I was happy. Bailing is under-rated. Sometimes we don't realize we will need that exact moment to be alone until that moment. Bailing is just the  ultimate self indulgence, with the best of intentions. All day I wanted to be alone. I love others, but also I just wanted to close the door, knowing it was just me--here--alone.

Just a moment to breathe out.

Just a moment to blare Tori Amos' _Boys for Pele_, to make an all girl music mix, and to sing higher and louder than usual, in celebration of finishing grading one of five sections of papers.

~

As a treat for tonight I saved the pumpkin cupcake Sarah Cohen gave me for "writing such a beautiful article about them." I like to snack while watching _Dateline_.

But what's compelling is I can't turn off my Girl-Grading-Weekend Mix. Lykke Li's "Possbillity reminds me I'm alone. And not alone.

Maybe I should've taken a picture of my meal, but I didn't. Quite frankly, I just unrolled an Orla Kiely floral-print placemat on top a wooden tv tray seconds before I placed the plate on top, sat down, and ate. I didn't think it was special. I was alone.

(My boys are gone for opening weekend. My hope: they will return with food for all of us. Food we earned. Food politics in action.)

~

I poured my last glass of wine as I turned on the bath's faucet. I have Nigel Slater's _Toast_ on the edge of the tub.

But I miss my boys.

They will be home soon. And by Sunday night my grading will be done.

In the meantime I have food to get me through the next four sections of papers.

Cooking for one is worth it.

Weeknight Meals, Comfort Foods, and Perfection (or Not)

 

 

Nom nom nom

It's no surprise that I usually spend a whole day cooking, especially in the summer. Whereas most people hate cooking or "being tied to the kitchen," I feel most peaceful, happy, fulfilled, and sane when I'm in the kitchen.

At the same time, I have writing projects, syllabus planning, organization projects, and lots of reading and writing I want to do this summer.

So some evenings I see what's in the fridge/freezer and cook up what we have. And it's these meals that are probably my favorites. I know the recipes like the back of my hand, and I have the cooking down to a science.

Such as was the pictured meal. I wasn't really anticipating guests, even though we had more than enough, but I was more than happy find out two of our all-time favorite people could stay for dinner: flat iron steaks with chimichurri sauce, ex-wife potatoes roasted in duck fat and smoked on the grill, sauteed greens, grilled asparagus, and Sarah L.'s homemade roasted red pepper sauce I had scored earlier that day.

I'm quite critical of my own cooking. Every meal I figure out what flavor profiles need to be edited, what elements need to be added, and how a recipe should be revised. Most meals I'm only partially happy with the results. But this meal was almost flawless. The only revision: I would have braised the greens instead of sauteing them.

What I'm wondering is why these meals happen. I think about the ones where I cook elaborate dishes that take two to three days, the holiday ones that involve brining, marinating, intense butchering, fine chopping, etc. These meals are delicious but there never perfect. And then here comes this barely-planned, use-what-you-got, throw-it-together-flavor-combos of a meal that was simply divine. Was it the weather, the vibe of the day, the element of surprise, the delightful guests, the boxed wine? It was a meal that I ate slowly, that I savored, that I will remember. Lately these are the meals I live for, that sustain me. They are so few and far between.

Comfort level with the recipe has everything to do with it, though. Later in the week we invited good friends over last minute for dinner. I was trying four new recipes for one meal (totally crazy, I know): grilled chicken thighs, ginger cilantro rice, bok choy with braised Shiite sauce, and sesame broccoli salad. The broccoli salad was great, but I heeded the reviews to cut the dressing portion in half. I charred the thighs because I decided it was time to test out lump hardwood charcoal rather than use Match Light, which I have mastered. Thankfully, our guests were gracious and kind about having to bake the thighs because charring them didn't cook them all the way through. I suck at rice; period (more on that topic soon). And the bok choy was stringy, bitter, and droopy. I wasn't trying to impress our guests; it was a meal I planned to make even if it was just for me and FD. These were recipes I wanted to test and I wanted an Asian them. But I had hoped for more of a magical meal, like the one we had earlier in the week. But no. I think it's because I tried too many new things at one time. And experimented with new methods (new charcoal). I'm an adventurer as a cook, so I have to take it in stride that not every meal is perfect. But even in imperfection, my cooking is usually edible and above par. But I'm a perfectionist with OCD and an overactive palate. I always expect more.

So does it all boil down to the comfort level we have with recipes? And does that comfort level equal comfort foods? I cook and eat ex-wife potatoes almost every night in my dreams (for real); I've grilled asparagus eight million times; I've sauteed greens for all three meals in a day and did it again the very next day; and I can indirect grill with Match Light almost better than any BBQ joint in Ohio. Give me comfort foods and I can crank out an amazing meal.

But...

I feel like my comfort meals wouldn't be comforting if I didn't have nights where I test four new recipes and fail a little (or a lot). I think most people cycle their comfort foods or the foods they think they cook well each and every week. I remember when I was a kid my mom recycled a lot of the same meals: mac and cheese with green beans; burgers and Ore-Ida fries; bubble and squeak; etc. At some point, though, these comfort foods became some of my least favorite meals. "We're having bubble and squeak AGAIN?!?!"

I use true comfort foods sparingly. For those days when I would rather read or write then cook. And trying new recipes (4-6 a week) allows me to console myself with my favorite dishes after a dinner-disaster. But it also allows me to find new favorite recipes, maybe even new comfort foods.

And it keeps my voyage as foodie ever evolving...

And So It Goes...

The semester is drawing to an end.

For some that means graduation is right around the corner. All the excitement of the future is ahead of them. Along with the wonder, frustration, hope, and possibility.

And while I'm excited with them, I'm sad because it means some very good friends will be moving away.

I don't take good-byes well. I never have. I prefer the "see you later" approach. But year after year of friends leaving is making my heart feel just a bit more heavy.

Last year was Babs, and this year is Amy, Chris, Alex, Nikki, and Ian.

The hardest part for me is that I happen to make friends with folks who love food, who love to eat, and who are frequent dinner guests at our house. Come this summer, Sundays will just be a little quieter. Picnics at the quarry will be a little smaller.

I'm not sure how I feel about this.

Right now we're trying to get in as many games of Blokus and rounds of The Game of Things as possible. We're trying to eat as many kale salads and tofu bites as possible. We're spending as much time together as possible. FD's beer cellar is slimming down a bit, and the liquor cabinet is almost empty.

Of course the greater parts of my days are spent grading, presenting, student conferencing, food writing, editing, and cooking because I have to but mostly out of avoidance. I just don't want to see our good friends leave. But so it goes...

In the meantime, there's a polenta tarte in the oven, pork tenderloin to roast, and glasses to clink before the formal good-byes begin.

Can Food Save a Mean Girl?

One of my favorite BG News articles.

Goodbye Summer & Picnics at the Quarry

Tomorrow  the semester starts and summer ends.

While I really excited to get back in the classroom with my students, I'm a little sad too. It means I'm going to have a lot less time to cook.

One of my favorite summer activities has been going to the Portage Quarry with our friends N & I. They are as food obsessed as me.

So really, while swimming was totally fun, what was even more fun were our picnics. All of us brought A game to every meal. We're talking spreads that would shame wedding buffets. And what a better way to use up all that fresh produce that was overtaking our refrigerators' crisper drawers?

Also, what picnic days taught me was how to think outside the box of what was picnic food, and they forced me to experiment more with grains, chilled salads, and sides, most of which could easily become main dishes.

I had a blast spending the whole day before our outings scouring through online and magazine and cookbook recipes, creating various flavor simple syrups, testing adult lemonades, finding plastic containers with tight fitting lids, and cooking.

Thanks to our picnics I've learned to love lentils even more, and I feel much closer to N & I (and our friend J who joined us once too!), who were rad to begin with but who are even more rad after I got a chance to chill, swim, and eat with them.

As homage to the last of our picnic days (and summer, in general), here are photos from our summer of good eating, good swimming, and good friends.

Homemade grape leaves, homemade hummus, egg salad, chicken salad, coleslaw with beets, beet salad, etc.

N & I made their own pickles. True love at first bite.

A lot of our produce came from the community garden and farmers markets.

N's baking is divine. This is her cupcake with mint (or basil?) frosting. It's hard to remember everything...

Lentil wraps, fried chicken, bbq chicken & tofu, pasta salad, kale salad, roasted potatoes, peach crisp, etc.

Green bean and cherry tomato salad with onion--produce from my friend Sarah's garden.

Avocado Kick

I love avocados. Their shape. Their color. Their creamy texture. Their light fruity flavor.

Everything about them makes me happy.

And when I eat them, I'm even happier.

After having a raw kale salad with avocados at a dinner party, I had to make it at home so I could eat the whole thing myself. (Okay, I did share with FD, but I finished the salad the next day by myself.) And I'm thinking I might make it again for dinner tonight. It's my new fav, as if you couldn't tell.

While reading Local Flavors by Deborah Madison I found yet another recipe with my silky green addition. The Tomato and Avocado Salad with Lime-Herb Dressing is one of the best summer salads I've made this year. Probably because I used my first batch of the heirloom tomatoes I've waited all year to taste again. (I just can't bring myself to buy fresh grocery store tomatoes, so when summer comes I overeat real fresh tomatoes.)

Bleu begging for the Tomato and Avocado Salad

This Tomato and Avocado Salad has crunch from the lettuce and peppers, creaminess from the avocados, juiciness from the plump tomatoes, and heat and spice from the dressing. I adore it. What follows is an adaptation from Madison's recipe:

Lime-Herb Dressing
1 T chopped mint
1 T chopped basil
1/2 c chopped cilantro
4 T olive oil
1 jalapeno chile, finely diced
3 T fresh lime juice
1/4 t sea salt

The Salad
1 1/2 lbs tomatoes (use a variety of cherry, slicers, or paste tomatoes), cubed into bite size pieces
1 large avocado, peeled and cubed
1 cucumber, peeled and cubed
1 sweet pepper, cubed
1 small red candy onion, finely diced
2 cups lettuce, shredded (I used a mix of Red Amaranth, tri-color Amaranth, Oracle, Wild Spinach, Malabar Spinach, and Romaine.)
sea salt
2 oz feta cheese, crumbled

1.) Combine all the dressing ingredients in a bowl. Taste to make sure there is enough acid.

2.) Put bite size pieces of tomatoes, avocado, cucumber, and pepper into a large bowl with the onion. Add the lettuce and a few pinches of salt. Toss, add the dressing, toss again. Add feta cheese before serving.

For any salad with avocado, I usually add it individually to bowls. This way if any salad is left over, the avocado won't brown in the salad. If I have any avocado left over, I wrap it tightly in cling wrap and keep it in the fridge. It usually lasts one day. I cut away any brown spots before eating.

What are your favorite avocado recipes? I need more!

Stuffed, Part II

After making my Hot Pigs in a Summer Couture Wrap, I had about 4 cups of the filling leftover and one huge zucchini that was a gift from my friend Sarah.

Even before all the storms last week and this weekend, I saw a flash a fate-lightning that led me to this recipe: Stuffed Zucchini.

For my Stuffed Zucchini, all I did was cut a LARGE zucch in half, lengthwise, spoon out its seeds, add my filling from the Hot Pigs in a Summer Couture Wrap, drizzle a little local tomato sauce in the pan before and after putting the stuffed zucch in it, grate some of CJ's Farmstead Cheddar on top of the stuffing, and cover the pan with foil.

Again, I baked it on my grill for about 40 minutes on indirect medium heat. (Please see the note from my previous post.) And it turned out AWESOME.

Truthfully, the BIG zucchs are perfect for stuffing but they are a bit overwhelming to eat. I want you to know it's okay to eat half a half and then the filling from the other half and then see how full you are. If your stomach is full, you can grate its leftovers into a lunch salad or grate it and put and freeze it. No worries.

What's awesome is zucchinis have fed us two solid meals in two days in a row with abundant leftovers.

I can't complain.

Stuffed, Part I

"Turn your back on the little zucchini for just a few minutes and they grow into baseball bats," said Epicurious recipe review A Cook From NH.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

This growing season there so many summer squash I can barely grate it and freeze it enough before some more finds its way into our kitchen again. Be it from the community garden, a friend's garden, the farmers market, or the local farmer we order produce from, zucchini has aimed its target at me. And like a good cook, I'm up for the challenge.

On the Epicurious website, I found this recipe for Cabbage Stuffed with Beef, Zucchini and Herbs. While all the ingredients sounded like a perfect fit for my crisper drawers, the recipe reviews were something left to be desired.

But I braved it and tweaked this so-called bland recipe into a keeper. At least I feel confident saying that after getting the approval from our gracious neighbors and friends A & J who dedicated their Saturday night as taste testers.

What follows is the very revised version of the recipe from Self magazine using quite a bit of the comments from A Cook from California. I also must thank my mum-in-law Sally for giving her original pigs-in-a-blanket recipe that I used as a foundation.

Note: The baking instructions are clearly for summer. Being this last week Bowling Green only saw temps in the higher 90s, there was NO way I was going to turn on the oven. So I turned to my grill. I baked the cabbage rolls over indirect medium heat for 50 minutes. To get indirect heat on a charcoal grill, place a disposal aluminum pan in the middle of the charcoal tray. Fill the open space around the pan with 2 layers of charcoal. Bake the rolls in another disposable pan. (After cooking you can either recycle the pans or wash them for re-use. It's up to you.)

Hot Pigs in a Couture Summer Wrap (aka Pigs in a Blanket--Summer Style)

Suggested albums while cooking: The Beatles White Album, especially "Piggies" and Jay Farrar and Ben Gibbard's One Fast Move Or I'm Gone.  (Thanks, Jenn!)

1 large head of local cabbage
1 medium local zucchini
1 medium local summer squash
1 small local eggplant
1/2 bunch of kale
1 can diced tomatoes (local), drained (reserve juice)
2 medium local onions (red or white or mix)
3 local garlic gloves, minced
1 lb local, grass-fed ground beef
1 T each fresh local basil, parsely, thyme, & oregano
2 T organic olive oil, divided
1 c cooked rice
pinch of cloves
pinch of nutmeg

Sauce:
1 can zesty tomato soup (local) with 1/2 water, mixed well, and all of the herbs with some leftover for sprinkling.

Begin by cooking rice. Use wild grain rice, jasmine, minute brown rice, etc. Whatever you have on hand that floats your boat.

While rice is cooking, blanch cabbage. From the top of the head cut a straight incision that goes through the head (so surgical, I know) but that does not cut away any leaves. Blanch for 5 minutes or until bright green. If inner leaves aren't blanched enough, you can always re-submerge. Of course, you'll have ice cold water on hand to stop the cooking immediately after the head has been blanched. Set aside to drain and cool after ice bath. After cool, half and core cabbage, carefully tearing away leaves. Set leaves aside to dry and drain.

In an large non-stick skillet, brown ground beef with 1 T olive oil, salt, and pepper. Drain. Set Aside.

Saute onions and garlic until soft. Add squash, zucchini, eggplant, diced tomatoes, cloves, and nutmeg with a little of the diced tomato juice (I'm sorry I'm not technical like Cook's Illustrated). Cover and cook until soft. Add kale for last two minutes and cover again.

Stir in meat and cooked rice with veggie mixture.

Trim cabbage leaf veins so they are easier to fold. Be sure not to cut leaves.

Hold a leaf with the core side towards you. Add a bit of meat in its cup. Roll once, then fold in the sides and roll until it's covered. Place seam side down in a pan where the bottom is lightly covered with sauce.

Repeat until cabbage leaves are gone. (Recipe can be doubled and frozen, if you so wish.)

Pour remaining sauce over the rolls before covering with the pan with foil. 

Bake on the grill according to the above note. If baking in the house, preheat the over to 350F and bake for 45-60 minutes.

When done, as the French say, "Mange!"

For dessert, consider homemade brownies! Our friends made-from-scratch their brownies using a recipe from How to Boil Water.  As a brownie fanatic all I can say is that they were AWESOME, especially after they added whipped cream and Baileys to them.

Cheers to a fantastic dinner party!

I Can Sweat Duck Fat

This past weekend I visited my friend Jeannie in Hudson. It's kind of like our annual girls weekend. We go the Grey Colt Sidewalk Sale, then out to really AWESOME dinner. This year I threw on a brand new Odd Molly top and funky Free People skirt I got at the sale and Jeannie threw on her best pair of green heels and a sweet summer dress and we headed to Greenhouse Tavern on East 4th in Cleveland.

This post isn't going to review Greenhouse Tavern. That review, in addition to one about Lucky's Cafe, will be live in the BG News this coming Wednesday.

This post is an account of my sweating duck fat during a yoga class. (And, yes, it smelled awesome as well as gross.) It's the unedited version of our girls night out.

The ambiance of the Greenhouse Tavern is sophisticatedly "green." From its fancy toilets that offer two flush settings (one for liquid, two for solids) to recycling old un-used menus as fry cones, this restaurant is thoughtful in its sustainability and certified for it too. I felt proud that my eating that evening was totally eco-friendly.

Without a doubt, the best choice on the menu is the 4 Course Chef's Tasting Menu. You get to choose one appetizer, one "second" appetizer, one entree, and either a dessert or a side for $39. Jeannie and I played it smart by each ordering the tasting menu and sharing a side and a dessert. However, as the plates started arriving we realized we should have split the tasting menu.

I ordered the French Buttered Radishes as my first. If you've been keeping up with my BG News articles, I've taken a liking to radishes lately. And these were amazing. Jeannie had the fried hominy, and I had a bit of food envy. Fried should be my middle name; crispy, salty, crunchy--the hominy rocked.

For seconds Jeannie had a lamb patty (sorry I forgot...I was having a food orgasm and wasn't taking notes when I should have been) that was AMAZING. I had the Hand Ground Beef Tartare, which rocked my world. As a kid I would sneak crumbs of raw ground beef before it went into a meatloaf or goulash. I have a raw meat problem, and unfortunately most raw meat is not fit to eat. So when I see tartare, I'm on board. Accompanied with housemade condiments, pickles, crostini, and a two minute egg, it was DIVINE. MINDBLOWING. INSANE.

While waiting for our entrees I realized to my left was a table of douche bags who were clearly there to be seen and maybe score some pu-tang. Maybe they thought they were cute, but truthfully they were obnoxious. So much so--we found out from our totally friendly, attentive waitress after they left--that the older couple sitting at our table before us asked to be moved. Ha! Jeannie and I tuned out all of their degrading comments about every woman in the restaurant simply by discussing each frame of Eclipse in-depth. Quickly, we became some weird, obsessed nerd girls they definitely wouldn't "fuck, marry or kill," which meant they left us alone for the most part. Until Jeannie's Half Roasted Chicken in Brioche Bread arrived at our table.

Dear reader, maybe you imagine shredded chicken in a bowl topped with buttery, rich French bread. If so, you are wrong. Chef Sawyer and his crew serve the half chicken in a HUGE LOAF of Brioche Bread. It's so huge that the runner asks if you'd like to slice it or have the kitchen slice it for you. Of course, any person in their right mind would have the kitchen do it.

So when the chicken returned, the douche bags next to us tried to claim it. Funny and cute? No, we wanted to eat. Patrick Swayze says, "No one puts Baby in a corner." I say, "No one comes between me and my food." After we laughed off their idiocy, Jeannie tried to make a dent in the chicken dish. If my guess is right she's still eating it right now for dinner.

I had the Sea-2-Table Halibut, which was beautiful. But the only reason I got it was so I wouldn't feel so guilty sharing and quite frankly devouring Jeannie's fourth dish: Gravy Frites. I'm not sure I'm prepared to talk about how much I think I'm addicted to these hand-cut potato sticks deep-fried in duck fat and topped with brown gravy and mozzarella curd. I can see why Michael Symon of Lola (a couple doors down on East 4th) calls them his guilty pleasure on the tv show The Best Thing I Ever Ate.

I swore to Jeannie I'd only eat a couple. I ate 3/4 of the plate. Yes, on top of the Halibut, beef tartare, and radishes. Clearly, I have problems. If I lived in Cleveland, I would be there right now eating them. And tomorrow morning I would wake up and be at the gym for 4 hours--I'm not lying--so I could go back and eat them tomorrow night. I'm having Walleye and a Raw Veggie Salad for dinner tonight. I'm not happy, and both are quite good (not to brag). I should have written this post after I ate.

That's how much I love those fries.

And we shared dessert--Carmel Milk Chocolate Pot de Creme. It was salty and sweet and a perfect ending to our fantastic meal. But the whole time I was thinking about the fries in Jeannie's to-go box.

And we got home and attempted to watch Little Ashes, which was horrible, but I got through it because I was thinking about the fries. (I couldn't eat them because I was that full and not that drunk.)

And I went to sleep and would wake up at random times with only the words "duck fat" on my mind and lips.

And in the morning we got up at 7:30 and went to Yoga Lounge where Kevin had us going through all these crazy advanced poses, including side crow and headstand, in a 98 degree room and all the while I'm thinking about duck fat fries. And I'm sweating duck fat all over my yoga mat. Which is a blessing and a curse. Because I can sniff my mat and remember the fries, but I probably should clean my mat after all the sweat that dripped on it.

I can't believe I admitted that for all the world to see...

(Grey Colt picture courtesy of their website.)

If Only I Was the Love Child of Jamie Oliver and Alice Waters...

My obsession with Alice Waters is getting out of hand.

I tried to find her biography on the internet today while thinking to myself, "God, if she was just in Us Weekly and on Perez Hilton, my life would be made."

Alas, the best I have is Waters' recipes, which I am more than grateful for.

And so my obsession with Alice Waters keeps growing and my obsession with Jamie Oliver is as solid as ever. So tonight for dinner, I consummated my "food parents." I planned the meal entirely around what I had on hand and recipes only from Jamie at Home and The Art of Simple Cooking.

No, I'm not that bored, just that crazy.

Oliver's Grilled Lamb Kofta Kebabs with Pistachios and Spicy Salad Wrap are the BOMB! Instead of using the food processor to grind up a neck fillet of lamb, I used ground lamb I had bought from Luginbill Farms at the Perrysburg Farmer's Market two weeks ago. I finely chopped the thyme and pistachios by hand and then mixed, by hand, them with all the spices and lemon zest (in place of sumac) with the lamb. The nutty spicy smell had me under a spell so much so I was considering eating the lamb tar-tare.

Oliver's spicy salad was easy too. I didn't have red onions on hand, but the spring onions that I had just gotten from Homestead Gardens were more than perfect substitutes. And we didn't have flat bread on hand, but we did have tortillas, which worked just as well.

Grilling the kebabs was stressful, though. First of all, watch for flare ups. Lamb is more fatty than most meat. Also, they wanted to slide right off of our metal skewers, so it was sometimes difficult to turn them, and they cook FAST! I was worried when a few of our kebabs (and we got 6, not 4 from a one lb of meat) started blackening. We pulled them off right away with silicone tongs. (Grab them in the middle of the meat. Oven mitts just don't work.) All the kebabs were on the grill for no more than 5 minutes. It was whirlwind well worth it. The charcoal flavor perfectly compliments the game-ness of the meat, the spicy salad, and the cool yogurt. All the stress is forgotten after the first bite, especially if you and/or guests love Middle Eastern food; just be ready to cook FAST.

Knowing I had my Jamie Oliver recipe all ready to go, I needed to pick an Alice Waters' one that would suit the Middle Eastern theme. I knew exactly what recipe I had to try in The Art of Simple Cooking: Lentil Salad.

Waters' Lentil Salad is absurdly easy and beyond flavorful. The red wine vinegar gives it a tang while the onions (I used my green onions from Homestead Gardens) add a little kick. We added diced cucumber to ours because I had one I had to use that I got from the BG Farmer's Market last week.

I made the salad in the morning and served it cold, and it was fantastic. I just added the cuke right before I served it.

What I'm learning to love about lentils is their versatility. They can be the main course. They can be a side. They are crunchy or can be mushy, if the recipes calls for so. They are sweet and sometimes spicy. They remind me of tofu's ability to take on any flavor well, but lentils have their own distinct flavor nutty, grainy flavor and texture.

I've been in a hormonally pissy mood the past two days (thanks to FD for putting up with me!), but I must say after eating this meal all feels right with the world, my body and my hormones again.

I'm sure that's strictly because my "food parents" are always looking after me and providing me with exactly the right food and nutrients I need.

Now if only I could say the same for Bella and Edward or Bella and Jacob.

How About A Little Tongue?: Dinner and a Movie

Hello. My name is Amanda, and I'm a twi-hard.

And I'm food obsessed.

Mixing the two is what I imagine being on ecstasy is like.

Before going to the midnight opening of the Twilight Saga: Eclipse with my sis-in-law Suz and my husband FD, we had an exquisite dinner at Revolver in Findlay.

Dare I say, I enjoyed dindin more than the movie...

While Taj Mahal played in the background, Suz, FD, and I approached dinner from a family-style perspective; we shared all of our first courses and even our entrees.

Though it might be a HUGE stretch to think that our first courses were in any way linked to Eclipse, I somehow concocted a story to connect the two. We started our meal with Pickled Cow's Tongue with roasted beets and a soft boiled farm egg; Crispy Bone Marrow with shiitake mushrooms, braised beef, rhubarb, and star anise; and Local Porkbelly with potato galette, spring peas and curry.

The Cow's Tongue was divine. Imagine a flavor and texture combination of flank steak meets chuck roast. The beets gave it some moisture and the egg complimented the pickling. Eclipse has a lot of kissy moments in it, including the first not-so-romantic kiss between Bella and Jacob, which was a bit "offal"; therefore, the tongue was appropriate.

The Crispy Bone Marrow was juicy and salty with a bit of heat--much like the shirtless Jacob. (Wink, wink.)

The Local Porkbelly was smoky, chewy, and surprisingly light. It definitely represented the Cullens' fighting abilities. (Okay, that's a HUGE stretch.)

Seriously, we had a blast catching up and sharing family stories throughout the courses of our dinner as well as building the anticipation of the movie and the lines to get into the theater.

For my entree, I had Dickman Farms Chicken Breast with heirloom lima beans and black kale. My craving for kale is what drew me to this dish, and it did not disappoint. The tenderness of the chicken, lima beans, and kale worked beautifully together, especially with the slight hint of vinegar.

Suz and FD shared the pork sauerbraten for two with butter poached potatoes. Both are sauerbraten fans because their mum STR made it a lot from them when they were kids. Both really like Michael Bulkowski's stripped down version with a sauerbraten reduction drizzled over a pork tenderloin. The component that made the dish, though, was the butter poached potatoes. If crack potatoes hadn't already been coined, that's what they would be. The fingerlings were perfectly buttered and salted that they could have been mashed potatoes if I was blindfolded.

Quite frankly, even though I am obsessed with Twilight, I don't think the movie could have ever compared to our dinner. Which must mean I'm way more obsessed with food.

We saw Eclipse at the Carmike Theater in Findlay where it was showing on all 12 screens. You can only imagine the lines and the pre-teen mayhem. Unlike my experience of the New Moon midnight showing in Bowling Green who made several in-person announcements to our showing, the manager of Carmike did NOT ensure that there was NO saving of seats, outside food, or recording of the movie on digital devices. Basically, the manager of Carmike was NO WHERE TO BE SEEN. In other words, it was a cluster-mess of an event where every theater had rows of saved seats, aisles were littered with baggies of chips and gummy bears, and pubescent girls recorded all the "hot" scenes on their phones. I vow if I ever go to a midnight screening again, it will be in BG--no matter how geeky I have to feel by checking Fandango every hour to see when tickets can be purchased.

But even after all that frustration and the disappointment I felt with the movie's pacing as a whole, with the lingering of slow scenes, and the sometimes tacky acting, what made the evening so awesome were the fight scenes, the tent scene, the company of two of my favorite people, and the memory of another fantastic celebratory meal at Revolver.

Meal: 5 out of 5 stars
Movie: 3 out of 5 stars

Father's Day

I'm not sure if I would be the cook I am without Cook's Illustrated. I learn a lot from their testing narratives and their step-by-step instructions.

For Father's Day, I relied almost fully on the Cook's Illustrated's 2009 Summer Entertaining issue, and, not to brag, but the meal was huge hit.

Seriously, no one can go wrong with a Cook's Illustrated recipe.


The Menu:
Slow-Cooker North Carolina Pulled Pork
Grass-fed Burgers
Cool and Creamy Macaroni Salad
Buttermilk Cole Slaw
Root Beer Baked Beans (Food and Wine July 2010)
Strawberry Poke Cake

While the whole meal was easy to make, I feel like the pulled pork yielded the most flavor of all the dishes. And what was really great was I didn't have to worry about grilling it all day with temperatures in the 90's. Using the slow-cooker let me forget about it and get to my other dishes. And the flavor was AWESOME. Because the recipe calls for ham hocks, a rich red color emerged as well as a smoky, cured flavor. The meat was perfectly moist too. My Pops couldn't stop praising it, which made me feel good because I made it special for him on Father's Day.

The Macaroni Salad and Cole Slaw were fantastic. Perfectly easy make-ahead recipes, which made my cooking life extremely simple. And again great flavors, and, if there are leftovers, they keep for a couple of days.

I had higher hopes for the Root Beer Baked Beans. They were good, but I thought they needed less molasses and more smokiness. I think next time I will add coriander, cumin, and liquid smoke, and I'll cut down on the molasses.

Out of all the dishes, the best was the Strawberry Poke Cake. I was extremely worried about making the cake from scratch but it came out light and moist with a perfect crumble. I tweaked a few ingredients for this recipe, though, which I think made a difference. Cook's Illustrated calls for store-bought frozen strawberries, but I bought 2 quarts of homegrown strawberries, sprinkled them with a little sugar and froze them. Then I cooked them down to get the juice for the pokes and the puree for the jam filling. (I didn't want to use the fresh berries because Cook's Illustrated said the flavor was a bit inconsistent.) Instead of Strawberry Jell-O I used a plain gelatin. In my opinion the berries had enough flavor; I didn't want to cover up their natural sweetness with artificial flavoring. Finally, for my fresh whipped cream topping, I added vanilla to intensify the flavor.

My brother, one of the world's most picky eaters, had three pieces of my Strawberry Poke Cake. In other words, I never got a chance to photograph it. It was that good.

Good enough that I just might make it all over again for 4th of July.