Archive: 2011

1. Leek + Pear + Chanterelle Toasts

   November 6, 2011 7:50 pm 31 Comments

   I love rituals. When the week gets crazy, I can count on a few constants to keep my feet on the ground: exercise, packing a lunch, a phone call home, a big hug from Shaun when I walk in the door. Sunday rituals are the most important. For me, rituals are more than routine or repeated habits, they can be activities that help define our values and reestablish a connection to self, loved ones, and the planet at large.

   When we started fostering rescue dogs back in June, we began dedicating Sunday mornings to a long walk from our house down to the harbor. It helped socialize the dogs, but looking back I think it helped us more than our animal friends. On the way I’d pick up a coffee, Shaun would get apple juice and a croissant (or two) at the local café near our house. By the time we reached the water, my coffee was the perfect temperature and the dogs were ready for a rest. We’d sit on the benches in the shade and watch the banana barges from Central America unload shipping crates onto naked big-rig trailers on the dock. Shaun let me express my abhorrence for the free-trade agreements and cheap labor that brought the bananas here in the first place, but we both knew I needed the barges to be faithful on Sundays. Walking to see them was an oddly cathartic process. There was no past, no future. Just the dogs, the coffee, and the bananas.

   It’s been almost a month since we’ve had a quiet Sunday morning to walk to the harbor and I’ve found myself searching for something constant that can replace or substitute for those few certain, perfect, hours. Time slips like sand through my fingers, as of late. This weekend we traveled north to visit my parents where Shaun filmed a bit for my mom’s nonprofit, Wellness Within. Chilly walks, Jon Stewart re-runs, thoughtful conversation, and waking up in my old bedroom to the sound of rain falling on the skylight was ritual enough to keep me in step for a while.

   

   After a day in transit, no one really wants to work that hard in the kitchen. These simple, luscious toasts are the “welcome back” we needed today. As much as I love kale, it really can’t say “I love you” like these can. (wink).

   Leek, Pear, and Chanterelle Toasts

   • 4-6 thick slices country levain bread
   • 4-5 cups sliced leeks (whites + just a touch of green)
   • 1 comice pear, diced with skins on
   • 1 small cipollini onion, minced
   • 4-5 tbsp (good) olive oil
   • 1/4 cup white wine
   • salt + pepper to taste
   • goat cheese to spread

   Turn on this playlist. Bring a saucepan pan with a few lugs of olive oil to  medium heat and add leeks, stirring to coat and wilt for 3-5 minutes. Add finely diced pears, stir in the white wine, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and let simmer for about 5 minutes. Reduce heat to very low. In a second, smaller pan, mix finely sliced chanterelles and the cipollini with another lug of olive oil. Put on heat, and let simmer and reduce for 5-10 minutes. Slice bread, and throw under the broiler of your oven for just a few minutes until the edges crisp up.

   Smear some goat cheese on the toasts, then pile with the leek mixture, then top with chanterelles and juices. Don’t take yourself so seriously, eat with your hands and let it get messy on the plate. Enjoy.

   

2. Let Them See You

   October 20, 2011 6:17 pm 44 Comments

   I was seventeen, Shaun was closing in on nineteen when we went to the cabin. The idea wasn’t our own, rather a gentle nudge from a friend who knew we needed that trip more than we realized at the time. I’m thankful for his wisdom. Although we had been dating for nearly a year, I don’t think it was until that trip that we really saw each other. Saw each other’s heart; the joy and pain and the fear that lay tucked beneath the surface, the façade we for different reasons clung to.

   There were swings at the cabin, up the hill from lakeshore. It was barely raining that day, and we sat on the swings and let the wind fill the silence between us. We were both confused. I remember starting to cry, feeling that nudge again coming with the rain.  Shaun turned to me and said “you’ve got to let me in.”

   I attempted to start this post with a question, how many people in your life really see you? Following it with another, now how many people do you really see? I felt stuck — wanting to make a point about how often we go through the weeks and months surrounded by people believing we see them and know them, when in reality we don’t really at all. But that would be the obvious question.

   I dropped Shaun off at the airport earlier in the morning and felt a pang of sadness that we will be spending another one of his birthdays apart. The morning was crisp when we hugged goodbye, and the clouds considered a bout of rain. I drove away and thought of the cabin. Five years. It felt like a long time ago. I thought about how far we’ve come as individuals, as a couple. I thought about what today would have been like if we had put off that trip to Alaska and his grandparents cabin.

   The better question is this, who do you let see you? Why do you (we) hold back from allowing people to really see us for who we really are? We must work to be present and truly see others, but we must also work to trust that it’s okay to let others see our own true selves too. It’s scary. I know. But we may be seen when we let ourselves be seen. Maybe not always, but when we do, there will be opportunity and occasion for people who do want to see us, and we will not feel alone.

   

   Click here to keep reading for recipe…  (more…) «Let Them See You»

   To make Pumpkin Gnocchi, you’ve got to use your inherent culinary intuition. Pumpkins come in all shapes and sizes, so it’s difficult to quantify ingredients without knowing the variety you’ve chosen and how much it will yield. Here are some rough guidelines:

   Pumpkin Gnocchi

   • 1/2 of one med/large cooking pumpkin, we like Musquee De Provence
   • 2 (ish) cups of unbleached white whole wheat flour
   • 1 egg, or 2 if your pumpkin gives you more than 2 cups puree
   • salt and pepper to taste
   • 4 tbsp butter
   • 2 tbsp olive oil
   • A few sprigs of thyme
   • (optional) freshly grated parmesan

   Cut open your pumpkin and scoop out the seeds and stringy bits. Wrap one half, and store for later. Cut remaining half into slices like you would a cantaloupe. Depending on your variety, you may be able to peel the skin, otherwise carefully remove with a knife and cut skinless pumpkin into 1″ cubes.

   Toss pumpkin into a large saucepan and cover with water. Bring to a boil and cook until just softened, adding more water if necessary. Strain softened pumpkin into a large colander, and again through a fine mesh sieve a few cups at a time, pressing out the liquid with a wooden spoon or spatula. Resturn mashed pumpkin to the dry saucepan and add a pat or two of butter. Return to the stove over low heat for about 5 minutes to just melt the butter and evaporate the remaining water. Transfer to a food processor and blitz until smooth. While blitzing, bring a large pot of water to a boil.

   Turn pureed pumpkin into a large bowl. Add egg(s) and salt and pepper before folding in the flour, 1/2 cup at a time. When you have added enough flour to produce a dough like consistency and forms a ball, turn out the ball onto a floured surface and knead a few times, adding a bit of flour if needed, until the dough no longer sticks to your hands. Take a small section of the dough and roll out into a thin rope. Cut into 1″ sections and make indents on four sides with a wet fork. Repeat with remaining dough. Warning, this makes A LOT. Place half of the finished gnocchi on a floured baking sheet and freeze for up to two hours before placing them together in a freezer bag.

   Place gnocchi a dozen at a time in the boiling water. Cook until they all float to the top. Meanwhile, bring a saucepan with butter, olive oil, salt, pepper, and thyme to medium heat until the butter melts and you’ve coaxed the aroma out of the herbs. Set aside. Repeat boil process with remaining gnocchi. Toss in the butter/oil mixture, and enjoy.

   

3. Famine, Food, Justice

   October 7, 2011 6:17 am 17 Comments

   

   There will be no pumpkin bread in this week’s post. No cinnamon-sugar scones, honeycrisp apples, rutabaga mash, baked spinach, and definitely no butternut squash gratin. But there will be F-75, F-100, and Plumpy’nut. This is what food aid looks like in the Horn of Africa right now. Keep Reading…

   (more…) «Famine, Food, Justice»

   

   If you’re looking for a cozy autumnal meal, skip this. Today I’ve baked up a nice PSA for you.

   Kenya, Somalia, Ethiopia, Eritrea, and Djibouti still face the worst famine in the Horn of Africa in 20 years. Remember reading about chronic drought in Eastern Africa this summer? It hasn’t gone away. Barren land and food insecurity has already caused tens of thousands of deaths, and aid agencies say four million people are still acutely malnourished and in need of assistance. At the current rate, widespread starvation and disease will take short of a million more lives by Thanksgiving.

   International NGOs working on the ground to distribute medical aid and foodstuffs face immense challenges. In Somalia, a nation wraught with the woes of civil war and radical Islamist militants, aid is not reaching the people who need it most. Shabab-controlled regions continue to suffer as terrorist factions divert and hoard UN WFP food drops and hold Western assistance agencies at bay.

   “Food” for famine victims is strictly functional. Plumpy’nut is generally the soup du’jour. It consists of peanut paste fortified with sugar, soy, whey, vitamins and minerals to facilitate rapid weight gain. The sticky, soft substance needs no cooking, and can be eaten straight from the foil packaging. At 500 calories a packet, it takes multiple packets a day for 9-12 weeks to return to baseline nutritional standards. For those who are too sick to eat, doctors treat severe malnutrition with therapeutic milk products like F-75 and F-100 that are made of concentrated milk powder, grease, and dextrin vitamin complexes. In “less critical” areas, rice, cornmeal, vegetable protein, and other non-perishable goods can be distributed.

   How lucky are we? When most of us are hungry, we can cook ourselves food. Food insecurity exists in the States, no question, but this kind of depravity is unthinkable. Reading the death tolls in the paper, watching video footage of children gazing into the camera with bloated bellies — it’s easy to feel helpless. We’re here, they’re there. Where do I put my money? Will it even help?

   Throwing money at things isn’t always the best solution. How about compassion, empathy? Sure, but without action, nothing changes. The situation in the Horn of Africa is quickly becoming one of the worst humanitarian crises since the early 80′s. Just another line-item on a preposterous list of human travesties that we just sat back and watched, keeping our fingers crossed that government would figure it out.

   They won’t. Not without us. The al-Shabab in Somalia are denying relief agencies of their important work of healing the sick. Unacceptable. Not only is this a humanitarian crisis, but it’s a crime. Matt Bryden the coordinator of the U.N. Somalia and Eritrea Monitoring Group agrees: “without justice, humanitarian assistance alone will have the perverse effect of absolving and even rewarding those responsible for this tragedy.” Justice means food to the sick. Justice means these sick people can heal, grow strong, and take back their state. Justice means corrupt regimes don’t get away with murder. Getting food to the people who need it is step one.

   What does this mean for you? Start talking about it. Make some noise. It’s not pumpkin bread. It’s not apple pie. It’s standing up and saying “hey, this isn’t right, people are starving, and there is food aid that they need and can’t get.” We’ve made noise like this before. Remember Live Aid? Well, I wasn’t born yet, but it really helped turn the tide in Ethiopia. Discussing the role of the International Criminal Court over book club might not seem trés chic, but for people who care about food (that’s you, dear reader) this issue should hit home. If donating is your gig, go here. If you’re upset, tell your government. Cut and paste Bryden’s call to action and send it to the people with power.

   “The time has come for either the International Criminal Court to become engaged in Somalia, or for a special international tribunal to be established, in order to dismantle Somalia’s deadly culture of impunity. It may seem unrealistic today that leaders of al-Shabaab would ever face trial, but the same could also once have been said about the leaders of the Khmer Rouge or the Bosnian Serbs. And those who have undermined and brought shame upon the Somalian Transitional Government and its affiliates by commodifying their own people, using them as lures for personal profit, are no less guilty and more readily accessible to the reach of international justice.”

   

4. Sweet Pepper Soup

   October 1, 2011 5:47 pm 13 Comments

   

   Today is one of those days where words seem to fail. Sentences and ideas come together, but nothing feels right. I’m saying something, but I’m not really saying anything. I’m dabbling in themes that seem important, but they aren’t authentic. I’m not feeling provocative, compelling, or wise. More exhaustion, frustration, acceptance, relief.

   I stop fighting the resistance and set aside the notebook. I rest my head back on the couch we bought second-hand a few weeks ago, laughing to myself when I remember how we almost broke my finger in the doorframe trying to move it into the apartment. Shaun is in the kitchen, I can hear him hammering planks of plywood for shelves in the pantry. Pickin’ on Coldplay plays on the desktop computer on the tall table and Sadie is asleep by my feet. The wind and the sun come through the screens and effortlessly toss shadows of the maple tree across the hardwood.

   Take off your battle fatigues for a second, Kelsey, let go of trying to write something big, inspiring, creative. This is all I have to offer today: say I love you more. That’s it. Pretty simple. Say it more. Say it right now, not later. It’s the only moment that counts. I’m not the first to impress upon it and I won’t be the last. Don’t assume people know how much they mean to you. Make an effort to tell them as much and as often as you can. In an instant, you may wish it were the only thing you ever did in this world, and all the other words that failed will not matter. Who will you say I love you to, today?

   

   What better way to say I love you than with a bowl of soup. It definitely makes the Billboard top-forty. And my take on this Alice Waters’ treasure, well I have to say (and Shaun agrees), this may be the best Happyolks recipe to date. Sweet red, yellow, and orange peppers are still coming in our local CSA box, but you could always use the more traditional looking organic bell peppers from the store too. Greens are off limits, not sweet enough.

   Sweet Pepper Soup 

   • 1 pound of sweet peppers, seeds and veins removed
   • 1 small hot red pepper (optional)
   • 1 onion, chopped
   • 3 tbsb olive oil, for sauteing
   • 3 tbsp fresh thyme
   • 3 cloves garlic, minced
   • 7 cups low sodium vegetable broth
   • 1/3 cup brown rice
   • 1 tsp apple cider vinegar
   • 1/4 cup chives, minced
   • salt and pepper to taste

   In a large saucepan, bring olive oil to medium-high heat. Toss in sliced onions and peppers, sauté for about 10 minutes until softened but not browned, stirring frequently. When softened add garlic and thyme, stirring to coat and cooking for another 4-5 minutes. Pour vegetable broth over the mixture, sprinkle in the rice, add a bit of apple cider vinegar, and stir to combine. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for 25 minutes. Remove from heat, and let cool for a few minutes while you prepare the blender. Transfer a few ladles of soupy-pepper mixture to the blender at a time, until all of the soup has been pureed. Serve with a few teaspoons of fresh chives and a warm country levain loaf.

   

5. Fits and Starts + Chard, White Bean & Tamarind Stew

   September 20, 2011 8:48 pm 16 Comments

   

   Fall arrives in fits and starts in here in San Diego. Friday was a tease with its grey skies, cool breeze, and invitation for thinking books and black coffee. Sun, shorts, and summer squash on Sunday — September keeps us wanting. My creative process follows suit. Ideas come and go, passing through me before I have time to bottle them up or at least find a working pen.

   I bought a sketchbook at the end of summer, it was on sale at the art store and at the time I had these great intentions of writing everyday; “creativity for creativity’s sake.” I was inspired by a recent feature Shaun and I had collaborated on about a new friend, colleague who encouraged “artists need to be creative for the sake of it, not for work, but because it’s who you are.” Agree. So does Julia Cameron, who insists on a practice of writing every day, among other things, to “recover creativity, as it is the natural expression and direction of life.” It’s been three weeks, and that sketchbook is barely filled with the caught inspiration, captured realizations, or daydreams like I envisioned.

   I love, and fully one hundred and fifty percent believe in the practice of “creativity for creativity’s sake,” but as Elizabeth Gilbert, writer, says in her ’09 TED Talk, it can’t always account for “the utter maddening capriciousness of the creative process, a process which everyone who has ever tried to make something knows doesn’t behave rationally, and sometimes seems downright paranormal.”

   Case in point, Shaun and I saw Bon Iver this past weekend, and in the middle of a solo set the creative rain comes like a flood and I have nowhere to put it in the dark, musty auditorium. Vernon is singing, I am completely in the present moment, engrossed, emotional, and the ideas come a’knocking. WTF, creativity? I needed you a few days ago. I can’t deal with you right now.

   We have to be okay with that. Part of being creative for creativity’s sake is not documenting it, saving it for later, making it a practice. Let it just be. A thing that comes, at random, irrationally, and reminds you that it’s there and that it will come back because it always does . Let the creativity just be there for the sake of it, even if it’s stuck in your head or heart and can’t be rendered “useful.” Perhaps this is the extended meaning of being creative for the sake of it. Feeling it. Enjoying it. Not having to go anywhere with it. Just letting it affirm our sometimes maddening humanness.

   Fall will come in San Diego. Eventually. It will fake us out for a while. And it may feel inconvenient when it does make an appearance because we’ll be wearing shorts and sandals. But heck. Let it come when it does. The sketchbook will be there, and if it doesn’t get love everyday, there will be times later when I’ll be glad I have all the extra pages. I think. I hope.

   

   White Bean, Tamarind, Chard Stew with several adaptions from Yotam Ottolenghi’s Chickpea Stew in Plenty 

   • 4 tbsp seedless tamarind pulp
   • 1 bunch (stalks and leaves) Swiss chard
   • 2 tsp coriander seeds, ground
   • 3 tsp caraway seeds
   • 1 large onion, chopped
   • 2 tbsp olive oil
   • 2 lbs roma or plum tomatoes
   • 2 1/2 cups water
   • 2 tbsp honey
   • 2 tsp cumin
   • 2 cups freshly cooked cannelli beans
   • handful of fresh cilantro
   • salt and pepper to taste
   • 2 cups short-grain brown rice, cooked with a tsp of olive oil

   Soak dry beans overnight, and cook for 45 minutes before you plan to get started. Alternatively, you could use canned, but I discourage it – BPA, the same stuff we’re on the watch for in water bottles is found in tin can linings. While you’re cooking the beans, put on the rice too.

   Okay, now we can start. Whist the tamarind with 3 tbsp of water until it dissolves into a paste. Set aside. Place chopped onion and caraway seeds in a large pan with olive oil and saute on medium heat for 10 minutes. Add tomatoes, water, honey, beans, ground coriander, cumin, chard, and a bit of salt and pepper. Strain the tamarind water through a fine mesh strainer over the pan. Bring to a slight boil, then reduce heat, cover, and let simmer for 30 minutes. If you like a more soup-y stew, add a bit more water. If you prefer a thicker stew, remove the lid to let the steam evaporate. Add salt and pepper to taste.

   When you’re ready to serve, spoon rice into a shallow bowl, creating crater in the center. Put a ladle or two over the rice, and top with fresh cilantro.