Pink of Perfection

Lately, most people I know have been hunkering down with a big bowl of noodles at least once a week. And rightfully so: the indignities of making our way through the cold and muscling into boots calls for dinner in a bowl, and preferably one that will leave you in a blissed-out carbohydrate haze. Sometimes, though, those of us who do not excel in the ways of moderation end up regretting it afterward. I like to think that if a healthy dose of cruciferous vegetable gets folded in with a wheaty tangle, the same comfort level can still be achieved and the bloated guilt diminished. At least, that’s the idea.

It wasn’t until recently that I began to explore cauliflower’s charms. I’ve always loved it as a crudité, but when it came into my life as a gratin, a soup, and most recently in Sebastian’s off-the-cuff red vegetable curry, I could feel myself falling in love. I doubt that cauliflower will stir the passion nor the vitriol sardines recently did, but that’s okay. Cauliflower is cool — a laid-back, mellow, vegetable that hangs around in the background until you need it to take center stage. It doesn’t need to live in the spotlight, but when it does, it really steals the show. And in a quietly confident way I sort of love.

Continue reading “$5 Dinner: Sweet and Spicy Cauliflower and Penne” »

I never thought I’d say this, but I am cheesed-out. If I see one more cube of cheddar or oozy wedge of brie, I just might lose it. Furthermore, I think I’ve had quite enough wine and cookies. It’s not that I don’t love the holiday food — I do; I even thought it was high time for an eggnog recipe the other day. But sometimes all the heavy treats start to feel like they are stalking you this time of year, dogging you down a dark alley with a tray of more cheese, more cookies, and another glass of wine tucked inside his long dark trench. When I have a moment alone between booze-fueled holiday gorge-fests, I find myself seeking reparations.

What do you turn to for that healthy kick between holiday parties? I find myself wanting protein-packed meals that welcome a big salad or bowl of broccoli on the side. Maybe your idea of healthy doesn’t include a rich red bean curry, but mine does. It takes a bowl of spiciness to wake my taste buds from their cheese and cream sauce slumber. This curry is an Indian cousin of your favorite kidney bean chili, and if you already have the spices in your pantry (and I hope you do so you can make mulligatawny), this dinner costs mere pennies, making it a fast and affordable dish to have in your repertoire. If you live in an apartment building, you will definitely fill the stairwell with heady aromatics, but I always like to come home to the signs of cooking, even if the smells come from behind some else’s door.

Continue reading “Spicy Red Kidney Bean Curry” »

All the elements came together to support the eating of this soup: I had already had a greasy cheeseburger for lunch (to ease the feelings after a night of wrap party revelry, if you must know) and was in the mood for something a bit more wholesome for dinner. The wind was blowing like crazy on a chilly, Sunday evening. I took a walk through the park at dusk listening to the perfect fall music filled with banjos, cellos, and a voice filled with yearning and nostalgia. It seemed that Mr. Tumnus might hop out from behind a flickering light post at any moment. He didn’t, but in his stead were dogs, lovers walking hand in hand, and a baby or two, feet in booties, head covered with a woolen cap. If that’s not an evening that will put a girl in the mood for a warmly spiced lentil soup, I don’t know what is.

Other Beloved Lentil Soup Recipes:

Continue reading “Mellow Mulligatawny with Chickpeas” »

Sometimes, when you find something new, you wonder how you got along without it. Like the Sven clogs that changed your walking life, or the Pandora that changed your listening life, or the half and half that is so vastly superior in your coffee than anything else, you can never go back to low-fat milk.

This is how I feel about charmoula (also spelled chermoula). Because of the warming air, I’ve been drawn to healthier recipes. But “healthy” can so often mean boring (broccoli and chicken breasts, anyone?) or weird (you know what I mean). It obviously doesn’t have to be this way, of course, but often this is what magazines serve up. This can lead to boredom for me, and fast. I like cheese, I like spice, and lately, I’ve been craving red meat like it’s my job. As a friend of mine recently announced, “fat tastes good.” I kind of think we should make tote bags emblazoned with this sentiment.

But then charmoula walked into my life and turned it upside down. This North African concoction is used as a dip, a marinade, and in this instance, was a perfect sauce for wine-poached chicken. Charmoula has a deep, back of the throat heat from garlic, cayenne, cumin, and paprika, but is brightened with lemon juice, fresh parsley and cilantro. This summer, I can imagine putting this on just about any and everything that comes off the grill. Served with a chopped salad with olives, tomatoes, cucumber and a touch of feta cheese, this was just the taste of fresh summer fare I needed.

Continue reading “Wine-Poached Chicken with Charmoula” »

Let’s do some free association, shall we?

Ham and cheese. Charles Bukowski. Grilled cheese. Tomato Soup. Goldfish. Rainy day. Cartoons. Arthur. Heather Has Two Mommies. Elementary school library. Green carpet. Reading nook. Heavy wooden chairs. Dewey decimal.

Serrano ham. Salty. Spain. Gwyneth and Mario. Blondes. Convertible. Windy road. Mountain vistas. Snow-capped. Majesty. How do you solve a problem like Maria?

Petit Basque. Best friend. Semi-soft. Soft-serve. Summer. Sundresses. Patio. Cobblestones. Rickety chairs, wobbly table. Cold beer. Splinters. Hot Dogs.

Quince paste. Adam and Eve. Soufflés. Cheese plate. Gorgonzola. Katy. Vintage dresses. Wedding dresses. Lace. Ribbon. Hot pink.

All of this together? The best ham and cheese sandwich, ever.

Continue reading “Ham and Cheese, All Grown-Up” »

Did you grow up hating brussels sprouts? For me, brussels sprouts were an instance in which the reputation of the vegetable overshadowed my own experience. Because they were so publicly maligned, I assumed I wouldn’t like them. If they were famous for being stinky, soggy orbs, why should my experience be any different? Come to think of it, I don’t even remember ever being served brussels sprouts as a kid. Probably every adult I knew thought the smear campaign had been so effective, why bother?

I can’t be sure when the turnaround happened. Maybe it was in college, or maybe it wasn’t until my mom and sister started roasting them with lots of olive oil and garlic in a hot oven until they emerged brown and caramelized in places, transformed like Cinderella, from a humble cruciferous vegetable into something so seemingly decadent.

In fact, maybe brussels sprouts are the ideal makeover subject, easily taken from lowly to lovely. As you might expect, something magical happens in this fettucine recipe. Since I ate delicious brussels sprouts at Chicago’s Feed, I’ve known that something special happens when you slice these guys, rather than halving them or leaving them whole. Add butter and pine nuts, and somehow the result becomes otherworldly. This is another fine appearance of an alchemy recipe, a creation in which the final product is so much more than the sum of its parts. This pasta comes together in a jiffy, perfect for a weeknight, and is at once vibrantly green, seductively simple, and delightfully buttery.

If you feel, for some reason, that you are not a brussels sprouts fan, I encourage you to give this recipe and this vegetable another shot. Like a bad movie in which an obviously gorgeous girl is transformed into a prom queen just by losing her glasses, looks can be deceiving.

Continue reading “$5 Dinner: Fettucine with Brussels Sprouts” »

Now, I know this isn’t the most attractive bowl of pasta you ever saw, but you’re just going to have to trust me on this one; I think it was meant to be. I intended to make this. But when the time came, something about the sausage was grossing me out, and my capacity for following directions was shot. But wow, thank heavens I’m lazy because this happy accident just about knocked my socks off.

I have to admit I have always approached fava beans with a fair amount of trepidation. They seemed to belong squarely to the “foodie vegetable category,” an unfamiliar, often intimidating terrain of vegetables I had never seen nor heard of before my 20′s. For the most part, I tend to avoid these vegetables out of aforementioned laziness and also a fair bit of fear and suspicion. What if it’s is just a trend vegetable or the emperor’s new clothing of produce? What if it’s more trouble than it’s worth? What if I plain don’t like it?

But fava beans are nothing to be afraid of, I soon learned. And those tales about what a bother they are to peel? I found if I squeezed the pod in just the right place, the bean would coming shooting out in a rather exciting way. So that was nothing. Moreover, their creamy flesh is something I’ve been missing out on. And so I am compelled to admit that there may not be a more heavenly springtime medley than what happens when these three players co-mingle in one bowl. Store-bought pesto, a couple spoonfuls of Greek yogurt, and frozen veggies make this a zippy weeknight meal eager to defy expectations.

Creamy Pesto Fettucine with Fava Beans, Peas, and Asparagus
Serves 4

1 bunch asparagus, cut into 1-inch segments
1 cup unshelled fava beans — I used frozen (once you shell them, which really isn’t hard at all, I suspect you’ll have less than a cup)
1/2 cup frozen or fresh peas
1/2 cup pesto
2 heaping tablespoons Greek yogurt
1 pound fresh egg fettucine
chopped fresh chives to sprinkle on top

Bring a large pot of water to boil for the pasta, and cook until al dente, and drain reserving 1/2 cup of pasta cooking water. Fresh pasta cooks shockingly fast, in about 3-5 minutes, so be on your toes. Meanwhile, shell the fava beans. Heat 1/4 cup water in a medium-sized skillet until boiling. Dump in asparagus, and steam for three minutes. Lower heat and stir in fava beans and peas, stirring until heated through and then drain. In a small bowl, stir together Greek yogurt and pesto. Return pasta to its cooking pot, and toss with pesto mixture and steamed vegetables, thinning sauce with some of the reserved pasta water, if necessary. Sprinkle with chives and slurp happily from a bowl.

Ultimate creative happiness was waking up early yesterday to act out my writerly fantasies — there was hot coffee in teacup at my side and the sun was shining through the windows on my geraniums — type, type, typing away and feeling so virtuous and productive.

I trotted off to work feeling as if I were finally living my longed-for secret life of morning creative work, before heading out to my jobby mcjob. I was so excited, most of all because I had something new to share with all of you for the third time in a week. And for a girl who once went the entire month of August posting once, this is a major improvement.

But ultimate frustration was getting home that evening and realizing the dumb and sour truth: I had forgotten to hit save. It was the most profound dope moment I’d had in awhile, and I was in such a funk about it I had to walk away from the computer, sink on to the couch, and watch Rick Steves for the rest of the night. And now, this morning, I think I’m finally over it.

So let’s begin again: The story I had written that morning was about my friend Alison. She has a way of putting a sunny spin on even the most treacherous of times with her unfailing humor and affection for the absurd. And so I knew she was the person to call one afternoon last summer when I was acting desperate and dramatic (not unlike how I was behaving last night when my computer woes struck, frankly) about something I now have no recollection of (funny how that works, isn’t it?).

Right when I wanted to throw myself on my bed and wail wildly, Alison chirped in with her sweet voice: “If your life were a movie, what would the heroine do?” Like other romantic types, Alison and I wish our time here on earth more often came complete with a score and some choreographed dance numbers. Despite my desire to gulp some NyQuil and call it a night, that’s not exactly heroine behavior. A heroine would put on a flippy little skirt, a red and white striped top, and go out into the world for a fresh perspective. And so I did.

I think my heroine would also eat these tartines for dinner. She would click into her little apartment at evening’s end wearing shiny red flats, a little weary, and make these quick, toasted open-faced sandwiches in an ancient, creaky oven with the odd bits of this and that rolling around in her icebox. The results, of course, would be miraculously delicious.

And that is the beauty of the tartine. Some good bread and a few tasty nibbles toasted together are all you need to feel sustained again. And I should mention, of course, that I got the idea from all of you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

The Tartine Way

Toast a slice of country bread, and then spread with a moist ingredient like aioli, pesto, tapenade, or the cheese of your choice, such as goat, gruyère, or comté. If you’re craving some real heft, add leftover roast chicken, prosciutto, smoked fish, or a poached egg. Be sure to also add delicious veggies like roasted red pepper, arugula, and tomatoes. If you want your tartine hot and melty, pop in a 425 degree F oven for 15 minutes. If you prefer a cold tartine, just pop into your mouth. The tartine pictured here is a union of goat cheese, tomatoes, and artichoke hearts. The next night we had pesto, roasted red pepper, and these Alfonso olives I’m having a love affair with. There are limitless combinations for your tartines, and that’s really half the fun. The other half, of course, is eating.