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The morning after the last day of school, I always woke up feeling a little adrift and lost, slightly suffocated by a feeling of anticlimax.  As excited as I might be about summer vacation, even as a child I was someone who needed days to be filled with purpose.  I’d sleep late and stumble into the kitchen listlessly for cereal, anticipating day after hot day unfolding in just the same way, wondering what my friends were doing, envisioning the darkened classroom I was so eager to escape only yesterday, chairs stacked haphazardly, abandoned and empty.  My mother, stepping into the kitchen for another cup of coffee, could always recognize the storm clouds on my forehead.  ”Get dressed,” she’d say, “Let’s go to the Book Rack.”

As a kid, the Book Rack, which sold used paperbacks, was possibly one of my favorite places on the planet.  There was no talking, no muzak, no one wondering if they could help you find something, just shelves of books, a rocker, handmade vinyl paperback book covers, and a few sad pothos ivy plants struggling to survive in macrame hangers.  Clearly designed for serious readers, the books were helpfully arranged by genre, so I could disappear into the horror section or the mysteries and never be bothered with Westerns, romance novels, or God forbid, “historical” romances.  My mom would drop me off there while she went to run errands, and I could happily stay for hours, enveloped in the owner’s cool quiet fog of menthol cigarette smoke, filling a paper grocery bag with books priced at a quarter.  At the end of the day, I’d spread all the books out on my bed and agonize over which one to read first.

Summer is here.  I want more than anything to go back to the Book Rack, pull a damp and crumpled $10 bill out of my shorts pocket, and disappear for three months into another world.

A lovely tangle of slippery, sesame-scented noodles is a cool, easy recipe–make a big batch for lazy days and late evenings so you don’t have to put your book down for long.

Buckwheat Noodles with Green Beans & Toasted Sesame-Lime Vinaigrette 

1 package buckwheat soba noodles, cooked to al dente, drained and rinsed

1/2 pound green beans, trimmed, cut into 1″ lengths and blanched

1 cucumber, peeled, seeded and cut into 1/2″ pieces

1 c. cherry tomatopes, cut in half

1-2 spring onions, cut into paper thin slices

1 c. cooked chicken or tofu, cut into 1/2″ pieces

small handful cilantro leaves

1/3 c. roasted peanuts, coarsely chopped

Dressing:

1/3 c. freshly squeezed lime juice

3 Tbs. fish sauce

2 Tbs. “rooster” chile sauce or siracha (to taste)

1 Tbs. sugar

2 Tbs. tamari sauce

3 Tbs. toasted sesame oil

Make dressing.  Place lime juice, fish sauce, chile sauce, sugar and tamari in a small bowl.  Whisk in sesame oil until well blended.

Place all salad ingredients together in a large bowl, reserving a small amount of peanuts and cilantro for garnish.  Add dressing, toss well, garnish and serve.

In this world, there are those born to wise mothers, and those who must figure everything out for themselves.  Luckily, the stars aligned at my birth, and I fell into the former category.  Lessons from my mother, Salt of the Earth:

1. Unless you ask, you have an automatic ‘no.’

2. It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

3. The journey is more important than the destination.

4. Wear a slip.

5. Never sell your mineral rights.

6. Never sneak out of the house at night–you could be in ten different Hefty trash bags on I10 before I even know to start looking for you.

7. Nobody else cares about your dreams the way you do–it’s up to you to make them come true.

8. Nothing is more important than family.

9. Never pay interest on interest.

10. Pull yourself together.

I also have my mother to thank for knowing that food is the most important thing we share.  When we’re happy, we eat to celebrate.  When we’re sad, we eat to comfort ourselves.  We eat for fun, to connect, to understand other people, and the greatest thing you can do for someone else is cook a meal for them.  Feeding people with love is never about showing off–simple, delicious food is always a gift, the right and proper way to give thanks for the wide and generous world we all share.

Braised Zucchini and Sun Gold Cherry Tomatoes

4 zucchini, washed and sliced lengthwise

1/2 c. sun gold cherry tomatoes, sliced in half

3 cloves garlic, sliced

olive oil

salt & pepper

1 small bunch basil, torn or cut into large pieces

Heat olive oil in large skillet with high sides or braising pan.  When it shimmers, add zucchini and cook quickly until browned.  Remove to a bowl and set aside.  Add a little more olive oil to pan and add garlic.  Saute briefly, 30 seconds-1 minute, then add cherry tomatoes.  When tomatoes begin to soften and release juices, add zucchini back to pan, season with salt and pepper, and toss to combine.  Add basil, toss again, and serve hot or at room temperature.

“Never trust a skinny cook.”  It only makes sense.  Someone who loves food, lives for it, thinks and dreams about it constantly, is not likely to be wafer-thin.  At times I find myself a little too trustworthy, however, and succumb to the temptation to dabble in dieting.  There’s always some program that seems to make total sense in the beginning–no carbs, no sugar, no drinking, no fat, no animal products.  I usually make it about 7 days, and then I lose the will to live.  That squash would be so delicious with a little risotto.  That arugula would be lovely with a little feta cheese.  That grass-fed steak would sure pair nicely with a glass of red wine.  The latest trend involves no sugars, not even fruit.  Which sounds reasonable until I realize it is almost time for peaches and blackberries.  When will I ever learn?  Drippy, sweet fruit, stinky cheese, smoky charred steaks, big, fat red wine, chocolate, buttery corn on the cob, crusty, rustic breads . . . I am not willing to give an inch.  I want it all!  I stopped eating processed food and drinking sodas long ago to make room for everything I truly love.  And maybe there’s a tiny bit too much of me, at least by conventional fashion standards.  But instead of counting calories, I’m just cultivating a new vocabulary: my favorite new word is the Yiddish “zaftig,” from the German for “juicy.”  Voluptuous, well-proportioned, a little plump, and, oh yeah, really happy.

Lamb Burgers with Cucumber Tzaziki

2 slices rustic white bread

1/2 c. milk

1 pound ground lamb

4 spring onions, minced

1 clove garlic minced

handful fresh mint, chopped

3 tsp. paprika

1 tsp. cumin

salt and pepper

tomato, sliced

Arugula Salad:

large handful arugula

1/2 cucumber, sliced

3 radishes, sliced

1 sping onion, sliced

2 oz. feta cheese, crumbled

juice of 1/2 lemon

2 Tbs. tahini sauce

1/3 c. olive oil

2 pita breads, cut in half and warmed in oven

Cucumber Tzaziki:

1/2 c. yogurt

1/4 c. grated cucumber

2 Tbs. chopped mint

juice of 1/2 lemon

salt & pepper

Place bread in a shallow bowl and soak in milk.  Place lamb in a large bowl, and add minced onions and garlic, chopped mint, spices, and salt and pepper.  Drain bread and squeeze milk out.  Crumble bread and add to lamb mixture.  Mix everything together with your hands until thoroughly combined.  Fry a small patty of lamb mixture and taste for seasoning.  Add more salt, pepper, or spices if needed.  Form lamb mixture into oval-shaped patties.  Build a medium-hot fire in grill.  When coals are ready, grill lamb burgers to medium, or as desired.

While burgers are cooking, stir together all ingredients for tzaziki and set aside. Make arugula salad: squeeze lemon into a bowl, stir in tahini sauce and whisk while drizzling in olive oil until emulsified.  Add arugula, cucumber, spring onion, radish, and feta cheese to the bowl.  Toss together and season with salt and pepper.  To serve, place a burger in pita bread, dress with tomato slices and arugula salad and a dollop of tzaziki sauce.

Every year for Easter, my mother-in-law makes buttery, soft, pillowy yeast rolls in a cross-shaped pan. These rolls are possibly the reason I married her son. Well, the rolls were a big part of it, but I was easily seduced by the noise and energy of the Winslows.  They are larger than life, funny, rough, complex, generous–and there are a lot of them.  Thomas is the youngest of five, spoiled and sweet as only a youngest child can be, and completely impossible to embarrass or rile. The upside is that we sleep on the highest thread count sheets, but the downside is that when we first got together, he expected me to jump into the melee and noise with both feet . . . and hold my own.  For our first Thanksgiving together, we drove out to his family’s hunting ranch in West Texas.  Twenty-one people and one bathroom.  With no lock. Much teasing ensued.  My daily toilette that included both a blow dryer and a straightening iron.  My desperate search for a quiet place to hole up and read Jane Eyre.  My french press coffee maker.  Thomas’s brothers were merciless, but finally, by some twisted logic, it began to feel warm and fun and enveloping.  It might have been the laughs and the giant bear hugs after I put my hands on my hips and said, “You know, you just aren’t going to make me cry.”  Or it might have been the tray of hot, soft, yeasty rolls, comforting as a physical embrace, that were served at every holiday meal.  There is laughter and fighting and food, and there is someone who knows exactly what everyone needs, dishing out love and comfort in giant helpings with plenty to go around for everyone.

This is one of my favorite dishes for Easter–comforting and slightly exotic at once.  Delicious with grilled or roasted lamb or with an assortment of other vegetarian dishes.

Saag Paneer with Fresh Spinach

2 bunches spinach (or substitute chard or kale) washed, dried, and torn into large pieces

butter or ghee

8 oz. paneer, cut into 1/2″ cubes

1 onion, diced

1″ piece of ginger, finely grated

2 cloves garlic, minced

2-3 fresh hot chiles, minced or 2 dried hot chiles, crumbled

4 tsp. turmeric

salt

1/4 c. thick greek yogurt (preferably whole milk or 2%)

1/4 c. cream

In a large skillet with high sides, heat the butter or ghee over high heat and quickly saute the spinach just until it starts to wilt.  Do this in batches if necessary.  Remove to a plate and set aside.  Turn the heat down to medium high, and heat more ghee in the same skillet.  Add paneer, sprinkle with salt and fry until browned on one side.  Toss and saute for a few moments longer, then remove to a bowl and set aside.  Add a little more ghee to the skillet and add onion, garlic, ginger and chiles.  Saute until onions begin to turn translucent.  Add turmeric to pan and saute 1-2 minutes longer.  Stir cream into the onion mixture, then add yogurt and cook until mixture comes together and is hot throughout.  Return spinach (leaving accumulated liquid behind) and paneer to skillet and toss until incorporated with sauce.  Taste and correct seasoning with salt.  Serve with grilled naan or hot basmati rice.

“How many more days left of school?”  Liam asks me this question every morning.  He loves school, but the promise of long golden evenings and lazy mornings is tantalizing to us all.  Spring in Austin holds so much promise–the streets full of visitors arriving for sxsw with energy and ideas, the trees leafing out, poppies blooming, the fields green with promise, the creeks and rivers full–it’s hard to be contained, to stay still, to focus.  I find myself only starting to think about dinner around 6:30, and searching for dishes that can come to the table with a minimum of effort.  With the windows open and a glass of vino verde in hand, I can have this on the table in twenty minutes.  And that’s a good thing.  Spring is so beautiful and so fleeting, I don’t want to miss a minute of it.

Red Lentils & Kale with Coconut, Ginger and Crispy Shallots

1 c. red lentils, soaked in hot water for 15-20 minutes

1 Tbs. fresh grated ginger

2-3 spring onions, sliced thin

1 bunch kale, washed and torn into bite sized pieces

1 can unsweetened coconut milk

1 large shallot, sliced thin

grapeseed oil for sauteeing and frying (coconut oil is also delicious for sauteeing kale)

Heat 1″ of grapeseed oil in a small skillet with sides.  Fry shallots until lightly browned and crisp.  Remove to paper towel or paper bag with a slotted spoon and set aside.  Drain red lentils.  In a large skillet, heat 1 Tbs. coconut oil or grapeseed oil until shimmering.  Add ginger and spring onions and stir-fry briefly.  Add kale and saute until just wilted.  Remove kale, ginger and onions to a bowl and set aside. Heat 1 Tbs. grapeseed oil in skillet.  Add lentils and spread out in a shallow layer.  Let them fry for a moment or two, then use a spatula to scrape and turn them.  Spread out again and let them fry for a minute more until a golden crust begins to form.  Scrape them up, toss, and add kale mixture to the skillet.  Pour in coconut milk and stir until everything is heated through.  Place in serving bowls and top with crispy shallots.

“There’s not a THING in this house to eat!” I snap in frustration, pantry and refrigerator doors wide.  This is hardly true, of course.  My gaze travels over bottles of fancy vinegars, nut and olive oils, pasta, rice, flour, and various other staples.  What I mean is that it’s the end of a long day in a series of long days, everyone is hungry, and what I want more than anything is to open the pantry or refrigerator door to find a fully prepared meal, already plated and garnished.  Osso Buco maybe, with roasted root vegetables, creamy polenta, and a lively gremolata.  I would not even turn my nose up at an exquisitely roasted chicken with crispy, crackly skin and a simple salad of dandelion greens with a tart meyer lemon vinaigrette.  Nothing like that appears, however, and it will be another day before I receive fresh provisions from our farmers.  I briefly contemplate going out for dinner, but all I really want are the comforts of home.  A long bath, a good book, a glass of wine, a slow lazy evening, and a home-cooked dinner.  The only flaw in my plan is that I will have to find inspiration somewhere and be the one to cook it.  A well-stocked pantry and long-lived winter vegetables save the day.  Within minutes,  the house is filled with the scent of warm, toasted spices, and dinner simmers away, unsupervised, while I’m in the bath.  Before the next person can ask “When’s dinner ready?”  it magically is, and we all sit down together to talk about our day, to offer warmth and support to one another, to laugh and share and be comforted with the sustenance of home.

Sweet Potato & Chickpea Curry

2 large sweet potatoes

grapeseed or other neutral oil for sauteeing

1 onion, slivered

3 cloves garlic, very thinly sliced

1″ piece fresh ginger, grated

1 T. brown mustard seeds

1-2 Tbs. tumeric

2 tsp. ground cumin

1 tsp. ground coriander

1 28 oz can whole tomatoes, drained and chopped

2 cups vegetable stock, or more as needed

2 c. cooked chickpeas

1/2 c. whole milk yogurt

salt to taste

small handful cilantro

Wash and peel the sweet potatoes.  Cut into 1″ chunks and set aside.  In a large pot, saute onions, garlic, and ginger until onion begins to soften.  Don’t let them brown.  Add tumeric, mustard seeds, cumin, and coriander and saute until mustard seeds start to pop.  Add sweet potatoes to the pan, and pour in vegetable stock just to cover.  Add chopped tomatoes and chickpeas.  Salt to taste and simmer, covered, until sweet potatoes are tender.  Just before serving, stir in yogurt.  Serve with hot basmati rice, garnished with cilantro.

Thanks again to generous farm members Viewers Like You for the use of their lovely kitchen!

I’ve never said no to a beet.  Others might bemoan their steady appearance over the long months as winter stretches into spring, but I never tire of their sweet, earthy flavor and gorgeous garnet hue.

Beet & Avocado Salad with Fresh Mozzarella and Fennel

1 bunch of beets, tops cut off and saved for another purpose

1 bulb fennel

1 avocado

4-6 oz. fresh mozzarella

1 meyer lemon

olive oil

coarse sea salt (my favorite is Malson)

best-quality balsamic vinegar

small handful chervil, leaves picked

freshly ground pepper

Preheat oven to 350.  Place beets in small roasting pan, add 1″ of water and cover tightly with foil.  Roast until just tender.  Meanwhile, cut tops off fennel, cut in half lengthwise, cut out core and cut into paper thin slivers.  Place in a small bowl, squeeze half of Meyer lemon over, drizzle with a tablespoon or two of olive oil and sprinkle with sea salt.  Set aside.  Cut mozzarella into thin slices and set aside.  Halve and pit avocado.  Cut into slices, place in a bowl and squeeze the other half of the lemon over.  When beets are done and cool enough to handle, slip skins off and cut into wedges.  On a serving tray, make alternating layers of beet, avocado, fennel, and mozzarella.  Drizzle with balsamic vinegar, sprinkle with salt and freshly ground pepper and scatter chervil sprigs on top.

Many thanks to viewers like you for inviting farmhouse into their beautiful kitchen!

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