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Archive for November, 2010

“Solvitur Ambulando.”  Solve it by walking.  Every day–rain, shine, cold, or not enough time.  I walk, not to get “in shape,” not to lose a few pounds, but to keep from losing my mind.  I leave the house carrying around the stresses of motherhood, entrepreneurship, citizenship, the human condition, a broken agricultural system, and I come home lighter, easier, remembering to breathe.  The last few weeks have been magical.  Piles of crunchy yellow leaves to shuffle through, golden sunlight, leaves fluttering through the air like an autumn snowglobe.  I am a person who takes a lot on.  I worry.  I’m angst-ridden.  I look for things to do that make me feel rooted and connected.  Present.  Cooking gives me that.  So does walking.  When I’m moving, my mind can wander.  I can remember everything I’m grateful for, instead of just fretting.  Healthy, funny, beautiful children.  A business I love, that constantly challenges and inspires me.  A country filled with people who have more in common than they sometimes realize.  A spirit that knows how to renew itself.  And farmers who work tirelessly to feed us nourishing and delicious food, keeping us connected to the seasons and the world outside our doors.  I can walk through the fallen leaves in a delicious melancholy, and I can come home to cook a dinner like this one, simple and fragrant with ginger and chiles, full of the plentiful, life-giving greens of the season, and feel replenished and comforted and at ease.

Asian Pork Meatballs with Braised Winter Greens

1 pound ground pork

2 small shallots, minced fine

1 small shallot, sliced thin

4 small Thai chiles, minced fine

1″ piece fresh ginger root, grated (squeeze juice from remaining ginger pulp)

salt & pepper to taste

1 bunch fresh greens, washed & torn into 2″ pieces

2 Tbs. soy sauce

1 tsp. toasted sesame oil

1 Tbs. neutral flavored oil (like grapeseed)

1/4 c. chicken stock

Combine ground pork with minced chiles, ginger, ginger juice, and shallots.  Season to taste with salt & pepper and form into golfball-sized meatballs.  Heat high-sided skillet or wok over high heat, add sesame oil and grapeseed oil and lower heat to medium.  Brown meatballs all over, remove to a plate and set aside.  Quickly saute sliced shallots, then, rinse greens, and with water still clinging to leaves, add to hot wok, adding more oil as necessary.  Briefly saute until wilted.  Add meatballs back to the wok, nestling amongst the greens.  Add chicken stock and soy sauce, cover and lower heat to medium-low.  Braise just until meatballs are cooked through.  Serve with warm jasmine rice.

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“Mom, are you crying?” Tess asked incredulously as I finished the last pages of These Happy Golden Years, the last of the Laura Ingalls Wilder Little House on the Prairie series.  I somehow grew up with the notion that I had read these books, but when Tess and I began reading the first one, I realized my memories were all Michael Landon and Melissa Gilbert.  The books are amazing–honestly some of the best books I’ve ever read.  The woods and prairies, the sheer space and breadth and silence of late 19th century America come alive on these pages.  Details of daily life, a sense of being huddled inside a barely-adequate cabin with family on the vast and unending prairie, a fascinating sense of just how incredibly hard it was to get from sunup to sundown, admiration for the gritty determination required to conquer the land and squeeze a living out of it, bending it to human will–all of this is thrown into contrast by the ever-mournful tone of a writer who is conflicted about the loss of these wide-open spaces, who knows by the time she is writing that the buffalo herds and the prairie grasses and the great wide-open empty spaces are gone.  As modern readers, we also bring to her stories the knowledge of how all of that farming and pioneer spirit forever changed our land–the topsoil depleted, the prairies covered over by sprawling cities, the native Americans forever gone.  The books are also riveting and funny and charming, and are lovely meditations on family and food.  One of my favorite scenes takes place in Little Town on the Prairie.  At Ben Woodworth’s birthday party,the guests are all served a slice of orange to eat with the birthday cake, and after pages and pages and months and months of corn pone and salt pork, your head practically explodes when you imagine this slice of orange on the flat, featureless prairie, covered over with drifts of snow for month after month, nothing green on your plate, much less orange and juicy and tart and sweet.  Can you really imagine?  Next time you eat an orange, remove yourself from the “I-can have-anything-anytime” world and really, truly taste it.  Read the books–they’ll make you cry too.

Tangerine Sorbet and Chevre Tart

adapted from Lottie + Doof

  • Tart Dough (see below)
  • 5 large eggs, separated, at room temperature
  • Pinch of salt
  • 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
  • 9 ounces soft goat cheese
  • 3 tablespoons cornstarch
  • 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 400° F. Generously butter an 8-inch springform pan. line a baking sheet with a silicone baking mat or parchment paper.

On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough out into a circle that’s about 10 1/2 inches in diameter. Fit the dough into the springform pan , pressing it against the bottom and up the sides. It will pleat and fold in on itself as it climbs the side—do the best you can to straighten it out, but don’t worry about it, since perfection is impossible here and not really important. Put the springform in the fridge while you make the filling.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment or in a large bowl with a hand mixer, whip the egg whites with the salt until they start to form soft peaks. Still whipping, gradually add 2 tablespoons of the sugar, and beat until the whites hold firm, but still glosssy peaks. If the whites are in the bowl of your stand mixer, transfer them gingerly to another bowl.

With the mixer—use the paddle attachment now, if you’ve got one—beat the egg yolks, goat cheese, the remaining 1/2 cup sugar, the cornstarch, and vanilla until very smooth and creamy, about a minute or two. Switch to a rubber spatula and stir one quarter of the whites into the mixture to lighten it, then gently fold in the rest of the whites. Scrape the batter into the crust and put the springform on the lined baking sheet.

Bake for 15 minutes, then turn the oven temperature down to 350° F. Continue to bake for about 35 minutes more, or until the top, which will have cracked, is dark brown and firm; a thin knife inserted into the center of the cake should come out clean. Transfer the pan to a cooling rack and let the tourteau rest for 10 minutes.

Carefully remove the sides of the springform. Cool the cake to room temperature before serving. The cake will deflate as it cools.

Tart Dough

  • 1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon sugar
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 6 tablespoons very cold unsalted butter, cut into bits
  • 1 large egg
  • 1 teaspoon ice water

Put the flour, sugar, and salt int the processor and whir a few times to blend. Scatter bits of butter over the flour and pulse several times to blend. Scatter the bits of butter over the flour and pulse several times, until the butter is coarsely mixed into the flour. Beat the egg with the ice water and pour it into the bowl in 3 small additions, whirring after each one. You’ll have a moist, malleable dough that will hold together when pinched. Turn the dough out onto a work surface, gather it into a ball, and flatten it into a disk.

Chill the dough for at least 3 hours.

Tangerine Sorbet

2 c. tangerine or orange, grapefruit or Meyer lemon juice

1/2 c. sugar

Place sugar in small saucepan and add just enough juice to moisten it.  Heat over med-high heat until sugar melts completely.  Stir sugar mixture into juice and chill thoroughly.  Freeze in ice cream maker according to manufacturers directions.

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Sometimes, when a restaurant closes, it leaves a hole in your heart.  Such was the case with Azul on Caesar Chavez, in the beautifully restored house that’s now home to The Shuck Shack.  Comfortably hip, Azul served the best sandwiches and sides of any cafe I’d ever been to.  The vibe was just right, and the food was perfect.  Interesting and familiar at the same time.  Deviled eggs, a grilled eggplant panini prepared with care and attention.  Zapp’s potato chips.  Really good iced tea.  The real joy was in the details.  Perfectly sliced and toasted bread.  Sides that were so much more than an afterthought.  I’m always most impressed when restaurants put care and attention into everyday dishes.  Stacked and heavily garnished masterpieces make me weary.  But a really good sandwich?  That, I will come back for time and again.  It’s really hard to run a restaurant.  There’s no time for family, or really for anything other than running the restaurant.  As someone who had to make the hard decision to walk away and close the doors, I completely get it.  But I really, really miss Azul.  And I really miss this green bean salad, one of the most inspired sides I’d ever had. Cutting the green beans into tiny slivers completely changed the taste and texture of something so familiar as to be mundane. Azul’s green bean salad was the opposite of mundane.  It was crunchy and bright, nutty, and tart with lemon juice and parsley.  Sometimes a restaurant can make simple things new again.  When it’s also the perfect place to sit in a corner with a good book or laugh with a friend, and when it costs less than $10 to have lunch, that’s magic.

1/2 pound green beans

1 shallot, minced

small handful of Italian parsley leaves

2 Tbs. sesame seeds, toasted

3 Tbs. sliced almonds, toasted

1/4 c. chevre, crumbled

2 Tbs. lemon juice

2 Tbs. white wine or champagne vinegar

1 Tbs. whole grain mustard

1/3 c. olive oil

Remove stems from green beans and slice crosswise into 1/4″ “coins.”  Blanch by adding to rapidly boiling water for 30 seconds, then plunging into ice water.  Let sit in ice water for about 10 minutes, then drain and dry.  Place beans in a bowl, and add minced shallot, parsley, sesame seeds and almonds.  Set aside.  In a smaller bowl, whisk together lemon juice, vinegar, mustard, and shallots.  Continue whisking while slowly drizzling in olive oil until dressing is emulsified.  Add dressing to green beans and toss to coat evenly.  Place on serving piece and top with crumbled goat cheese.

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