02 . 10 . 14
Today I’m partnering with The Giving Table, The Lunchbox Fund, and nearly one hundred other food bloggers to feed impoverished and orphaned schoolchildren in South Africa. We’re donating our posts and asking our readers to join us in raising (at least) $5,000 to provide a daily meal to 100 children for an a whole year. Children with empty tummies at school can’t achieve their full potential. With the collective help of our reader base, we hope to nourish minds, nourish a nation, and positively impact the planet.
Nicole Gulotta asked us to share a personal anecdote to plead the case of this fantastic cause, and while I will eventually get to that, I think it goes without saying that hunger at home and abroad is a problem that should take very little convincing to get behind. It is stunning and despicable to me that nearly 65 percent of all South African children are food insecure and that 1.9 million of those children are orphans as a result of HIV and AIDS. It is also unacceptable to me that 1 in 5 children here in the U.S, the so-called “greatest country in the world” live in a household that struggles to put food on the table. This would never be true of the “greatest” country in the world.
South Africa lives in a tender corner of my heart. In 2010 I lived on a small ship for five months with a few hundred students, professors, and Archbishop Desmond Tutu sailing across the Atlantic, around the horn of Africa, through the Indian Ocean, Bay of Bengal, South China Sea, and finally back across the Pacific. On the days we weren’t at port he gave lectures on the history of his country, Apartheid, the meaning of Ubuntu, and spent his mealtimes fraternizing with young people in the mess hall. On one evening I remember sitting around a round table with six women and one guy, a phenom to Arch (what we called him affectionately), that merited he scoot from his table to ours. He looked at us, giggled, and proceeded to circle the perimeter, tapping our heads like a game of duck-duck goose until he reached our male friend, Nimish, and squealed “you lucky little bugger!” before skipping off. He is at once the fieriest and goofiest person I’ve been lucky to experience and my life is forever changed by his unwavering optimism for human goodness, capacity for love and forgiveness, and his belief that young people can change the world.
A lot of things get the man riled up, and hunger is one of them.
“I doubt if there is a single moment in our history when all human beings have had enough to eat. Even today, in a world where it is possible to communicate across thousands of miles… close to 1 billion men, women and children will go to bed hungry tonight around the world. Yet a lifetime of experience has taught me that there is no problem so great it cannot be solved, no injustice so deeply entrenched it cannot be overcome. And that includes hunger. Hunger is not a natural phenomenon. It is a man made tragedy. People do not go hungry because there is not enough food to eat. They go hungry because the system which delivers food from the fields to our plates is broken.”
I have a shoddy recording (watch/listen here) of the night before we made port in Cape Town that I watch often for reasons private and obvious, in which he says:
Don’t let us grind you down. Dream. Go on for goodness sakes, dreaming. Dream, dream.
Dream the craziest dreams. They actually often are, God’s dreams.
I feel pretty confident that I know only a smidgen of what there is to know about this life and humans and our collective experience, but I know this: we can’t do it alone. Most of you will visit this site for the recipe, and perhaps the half that read this accompanying post will find themselves economically capable of donating to The Lunchbox fund, and that’s okay. We are all doing what we can, with what we have, and the time we get here. But I’m dreaming. I’m going to dream that 5000 Happyolks readers who will see this post over the next week will donate $10 and multiply The Giving Table’s goal by a factor of 10. Yeah. Crazy dreams. Whatcha think? Let’s do it.
Shaved Fennel Salad
- 10 lbs (5 medium-ish bulbs) fennel
- 2 granny smith apples
- 1 red onion
- 1 cup parsley leaves
- 1 cup mint leaves
- 1 cup watercress
- ½ cup sour cherries
- ½ cup shelled + chopped pistachios
- juice of 1 navel orange
- juice of 1 lemon
- 3-4 tbsp olive oil
- 1 tsp (plus a dash) sea salt
- cracked pink pepper
With a mandoline, shave bulbs of fennel to ¼ inch thickness. Place in bowl and sprinkle with salt to soften. Set aside. Shave the onion and apples (with skin) on the same setting on the mandoline and set aside. Clean and remove leaves of watercress, parsley, and mint. Set aside.
Prepare the dressing by combining the juices of the orange and lemon, olive oil, plus salt, and cracked pink pepper. Toss together the fennel, onions, apples, parsley, mint, watercress, chopped pistachios, and sour cherries with the dressing.
This one’s for you, Arch.
For good measure, here’s the link (again) to donate a buck The Lunchbox Fund.
01 . 31 . 14
Red Pepper Rapini, White Beans, and Grits
My kitchen is old. My counters are laminate. My spice cabinet is a joke and I’m pretty sure mice live under the fridge. There are splatters on the ceiling still from the time Corbyn and Shaun made Margaritas in a blender missing it’s top. New dish towels and a clean rug in front of the sink are a big deal to me. An old friend from San Diego visited our place a few weeks ago and remarked at how normal, homely, even ugly our cooking space is, despite what she sees online. I love our house. I love our quirky, odd lay-out of a kitchen. We’re all in this funk-a-licious life together, ya hear? And in the spirit of reality checks, I love to cook and share quirky, semi-technical, creative dishes with you here… but five of the seven days in a week we’re eating some riff on grains, greens, and protein. Cheers to rentals, easy dinner, and comfort in a bowl.
- 2 lbs rapini (broccoli rabe), dense stems removed
- 1 cup white beans (your choice)
- 1 shallot, minced
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 3 lemons, juiced
- 3 tbsp olive oil
- 3 tbsp bacon or duck fat (optional)
- 2 tbsp red pepper flakes
- pinch of salt
- goat cheese crumbles
- a poached or soft boiled egg, one per serving
- dash of chili oil
- 2 cups polenta or grits (labeling varies)
- 4 cups chicken or vegetable stock
- 3 cloves of garlic, minced
- 8 tbsp salted butter
- juice of 1 lemon
- 2 tsp salt
In a medium sized pan toast red pepper flakes for 2-3 minutes over medium heat. Add olive oil, bacon fat, minced garlic and shallots over slightly lower heat until it starts to sizzle but the garlic is not browned. Add Rapini leaves and let wilt, untouched for five minutes before stirring together. Add white beans, lemon juice, salt, and red pepper flakes. Stir and remove from heat.
Melt butter in a large pot with the minced garlic. Before butter starts to bubble, add stock and lemon juice. Bring to a boil. Add polenta and stir vigorously for 5 minutes until combined. Add stock to adjust the viscosity and salt to taste.
Serve in a bowl, all together, with a poached egg, goat cheese crumbles, and chili oil.
01 . 09 . 14
It’s 2 am and I just ate the last piece of molasses cake leftover from the New Years Eve gathering we hosted a few days ago. I never saw anyone eat a slice, but the next morning I found the bundt half gone on it’s stand, covered by a dish towel. I like that people can expect a treat when they’re at the house. I’m often asked why I cook and my answer has evolved and simplified over time: to love, to nourish. It’s a small thing, on my list of big things, of ways to say I love you.
In any case, there is a vent beneath the counter that warms a patch of tile on the kitchen floor and I stood on it, camped out in my bare feet, eating, listening to the creaks of the house and sorting through a stack of mail beside me. I turn over what appears to be a credit card offer and start scribbling a shopping list. Cauliflower. Horseradish. Greens. Coffee beans (!). Chemex filters (!!!!!). Toothpaste. Chocolate chips. Goat’s Gouda. Dates.
I love January and it’s everyday-ness. I’m glad for a regular pulse again. The holidays are great but it’s the stillness that I crave at the end of it all. We took our little evergreen out to the curb promptly when we returned from California and I filled the house with white ranunculus and put my Dad’s Neil Young album, Harvest, on our new record player to fill the house with something… normal.
New Years resolutions have never been my bag. Not on the 1st, at least. I want to cover my ears, close my eyes, and shout la la la la la la la la la la la when “goals for 2014″ comes up in social conversations because here’s the deal: A new year starts whenever I say it starts. You guys know me, I’ll preach intentionality ’til I’m blue in the face, but, erase the numbers on the calendar and the year restarts fifty times, even one hundred times in 365 days, if we want it to. I like the idea of resolving and revising my life, intentions, goals, and boundaries throughout the entirety of the year. My blueprints look nothing like they did a month ago, and I’d wager they’ll look different next month. Without grandeur or pomp or circumstance, there are always occasions that beg a breaking down and rebuilding the foundation. Fate and free will do their dance, and we are presented with, or choose, change.
That’s the beauty of this human life we get to live here on planet earth. We get to revise. We get to shift lanes. We can stop what we’re doing at any point of the day, month, year and say hey, you know, I think I’m going to to try doing things differently from here out. We are constantly being called to look in and look out at they way we treat people, how we spend our time, how we think about ourselves, and the respect we show our bodies and our planet. Instead of cramming in all that self-reflection and goal setting for the sparkling brevity of a ball-drop, I’d ask you to consider celebrating a new year, a new you, whenever you can. And those days are worth celebrating. The Thursday in March where you wake up, put your feet on the floor, and say to yourself: today will be different, today I will… (fill in the blank)… that’s gold right there. There will be no confetti or champagne. But it will be perfect, and you did it all on your own.
Happy New Year, today, and every day.
Shiitake Bok Choy Dumplings
It’s cold out! If you live in a winter-y climate, skip the juice fast and feed your Qi with warming, nourishing foods. My acupuncturist, Anna, says it’s an order. For the wonton sheets… I could only get my hands on the itty-bitty variety, which, if you have fingers that aren’t on the dainty side like me, folding can be a bit of a challenge (albeit a worthy one). If you can find wrappers that are bigger, i.e. 3x3in, I’d suggest doubling the filling for this recipe.
- 25 wonton wrappers
- 4 bulbs bok choy
- 1/2 lb shiitake mushrooms
- 2 large carrots
- 1 inch nub ginger
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1/4 cup minced chives
- 1 tsp orange zest
- 1 tbsp tamari or Braggs liquid aminos
- 2 tbsp toasted sesame oil
- + extra bok choy to line the steam basket
Orange Teriyaki Sauce
- 1/2 cup tamari
- 1 tsp toasted sesame oil
- 2 tsp water
- 2 tbsp orange juice
- 2 tbsp rice wine vinegar
- 1 tbsp brown sugar
- 1/4 cup sugar
- 2 tsp minced garlic
- 1 tsp minced ginger
- 1 tsp orange zest
- 1 tsp cornstarch
Get the sauce out of the way: Combine ingredients (except for cornstarch and orange zest) in a saucepan on medium heat until the sugar is dissolved. Stir in cornstarch and zest last then remove from heat.
For the dumpling filling: chop boy choy, shiitakes, chives and carrots into very small pieces. Using a microplane grater, shave garlic, ginger, and orange zest into the vegetables and mix together. Warm sesame oil over medium heat in a pot or sauté pan. Add vegetable mixture and the tamari and stir to soften for no more than 5 minutes. The veggies should be vibrant and al dente.
Assemble the dumplings by placing one sheet on a flat surface. With a bowl of water near your dominant hand, dip a finger or two in the water and wet the perimeter of the dumpling so when you fold it all up it will stick together. Place 1 heaping tablespoon of cooked filling in the center and fold together by adjoining the two opposite corners with a pinch and then repeating with the remaining corners, sealing the edges together as you go like a present. If your wonton wrappers are circular, you can see detailed instructions on how to assemble here. Repeat until all filling has been used.
Prepare your steaming mechanism (pot with steamer lined with bok choy or lettuce, ghetto white girl style like moi… or by using a real-deal bamboo steamer as seen here). When there is sufficient steam generated, place as many dumplings as you can fit without touching one another. Cook for 5-8 minutes.
Serve warm and dip as desired.
12 . 11 . 13
The table is set, and our glasses are full,
Though pieces go missing, may we still feel whole.
We’ll build new traditions in place of the old,
Life without revision will silence our souls.
Let the bells keep on ringing,
Making angels in the snow,
May the melody disarm us when the cracks begin to show.
Like the petals in our pockets, may we remember who we are,
Unconditionally cared for by those who share our broken heart.
– Ryan O’Neal
- Traditional Kimchi recipe from Food & Wine
- 2 cups ramen or soba noodles
- 1/2 cup sliced green onion
- 1 poached egg
- 2 cups quick broth
- – 4 cups water
- – 1 onion
- – 1/2 apple, sliced
- – 3 lemon slices
- – 1/4 cup sliced shallots
- – 5 garlic cloves
- – 1″ nub ginger
- – 1/2 cup kimchi
- – 3 tbsp miso paste
For the broth, mix together all ingredients (save for the miso) and simmer for 30 minutes. Mix in miso after 30 minutes and remove from heat. While the broth simmers, cook the noodles, slice the green onions, and poach an egg with your method of preference.
Combine Noodles, 1 heaping cup of kimchi, 1/2 cup green onions and pour over 2 cups of broth and top with egg.
** I quadrupled my batch of Kimchi and am letting it continue to ferment for New Years gifts, it makes 8 quarts if you’re wondering!
*** Special thanks to New West Knifeworks for sending me a collection of knives to try. They’re beautiful and if you’re going the gift-route for the holidays, I highly recommend this Wyoming based company.
11 . 12 . 13
“I must learn to love the fool in me–the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries. It alone protects me against that utterly self-controlled, masterful tyrant whom I also harbor and who would rob me of my human aliveness, humility, and dignity but for my Fool.”
― Theodore I. Rubin
Sunchoke Soup with Cracked Black Pepper
- 1 pound sunchokes, peeled and chopped
- 2 cups peeled, chopped potatoes
- 6 tablespoons olive oil or butter
- 2 sweet onions, chopped
- 4 medium cloves garlic
- Leaves from 2 sprigs thyme
- 9 cups chicken or vegetable broth
- 1/2 cup whole milk (optional)
- 1/2 cup apple juice
- 1/4 cup lemon juice
- Sea salt
- Freshly ground black pepper
Peel the sunchokes and the potatoes. Cut into dice-sized chunks.
Heat butter or oil in a heavy-bottomed large pot. Add onions, garlic, and thyme, and stir until the onions begin to brown. Add the broth. Stir. Then add potatoes and sunchokes. Cook covered for 5 minutes, then uncovered for 15 minutes until chokes and taters are softened. Add apple juice and lemon juice, cook for another 10 minutes. Remove from heat. Stir in milk.
Working in batches, transfer the soup mixture to a blender, remove the middle-nob so that steam can escape and cover with a paper towel as to not burn yourself with soup splatters. Puree until smooth in batches, each time adding some of the butter to the blender. Serve with a healthy amount of fresh black pepper.