Tag Archive: Dill

1. Feel It Coming

   May 18, 2012 9:45 pm 56 Comments

   

   There were fleas. Millions, it seemed. They loved my ankles. I suppose the outbreak was the last farewell from the foster dogs of winter and spring who nestled under our bed on the blankets from Morocco. We dragged every single modality of fabric from our house to the industrial washers up the road and watched the pesks drown in the suds while eating pizza by-the-slice and studying French verb conjugations on the linoleum. A grizzly looking man in worn denim took laps around the dryers selling yellow squash and strawberries from a wagon. Nancy Grace blared from a mounted television in the corner. Where had the time gone? A few years ago we spent every weekend at this laundromat playing out the same routine (sans fleas), dumping out the stink and work of our week and sorting it with the rest of the neighborhood. We felt like real “grown-ups” with our own washer and dryer when we moved to this place a year ago, the one we will say goodbye to in 10 days. Ten. In ten days I will have packed the car, thrown the tasseled cap, and baked through the last of the flour in the freezer. We’ll hand over the keys and take I-5 North for the last time, waving goodbye with big, big smiles to the coast that has truly held me together in more ways I could possibly repay it for. We’ll come back again, one day, but not soon. Not like this.

   Folding the sheets, I hmmmm’d at Shaun… ”I think we need to do one more post before we leave.” Oatmeal seemed like a strange note to end on here. Of course, the saint that he is, agreed to whatever, whenever. Between the last exams, last bike rides, last get-togethers, last trips to goodwill… I wanted there to be tacos. Yellow squash seemed appropriate. And I wanted there to be music. I made you a mix to listen to while you make these. Songs from my story, our story, songs that maybe can become a part of yours. Sometimes I think a few minutes of lyric and instrument can say more about the swells of emotion that rise and fall during times like these better than I possibly could.

   This is it folks. This is where the good stuff is. Swimming it all right now, arms stretched wide, lapping up the last bits of sweetness from this bowl of lessons. I feel it coming. Newness. So, so Happy. Ready.

   

   Soft Shell Squash Tacos

   Inspired by Suzie’s Farm

   • 4-6 yellow crookneck squash
   • 1 cup of fresh dill, minced
   • 1 red onion, minced
   • 1 shallot, minced
   • 1/2 cup crumbled feta
   • 1 tsp olive oil
   • 1 tsp red wine vinegar
   • 1 tsp dijon mustard
   • salt/pepper
   • (optional:) chopped spinach or other green mix

   • 2 cups masa harina
   • 1 + cup hot water
   • 1 tsp salt

   For the tortillas, dissolve salt into the measured glass of warm water. Pour over the bowl of masa harnia slowly, stirring as you go. Mix until combined; smooth but not sticky. Knead/press into a ball. Cover, and let rest for as long as you can wait 30 min-2hrs.

   In the meantime, cut squash into small diced bits. Combine with minced red onion and shallot over medium heat with the olive oil and vinegar. Coat and stir until you get a bit of steam going, about 3-4 minutes, tops. Remove from heat, mix in dill, mustard, and salt and pepper. Set aside.

   Back to the tortillas. Layout a few (2-3) sheets of parchment paper and fetch a flat plate or dish to help you press out the dough. Pinch off a golf-ball sized chunk of dough and roll into a smooth ball. Set between two pieces of parchment and start to flatten a bit with your hand. Continue with hands, or for even edges, grab a heavy bowl and put your weight into it over the sheets of parchment and the ball. Remove, peel back parchment, viola. Cook for two minutes on each side in an non-greased frying pan. Set aside and begin to stack ‘em up.

   Before you’re ready to eat, mix feta into the squash mixture and toss with a bit more salt and pepper. I like these with 40 percent greens, 60 percent squash, but feel free to experiment.

   

2. Greens + Herbs + Roasted Radishes

   March 18, 2012 12:06 pm 33 Comments

   

   I feel like I’ve been awkwardly bumbling about here the last few weeks. Stalling. Filling the white space up with words that I can justify clicking the publish button with, but void of the kind of truth or vulnerability that I usually challenge myself to share in this space. It’s all part of the process, though. I think. I hope.  Still learning what it means to be on the web like this.

   While it excites me that there actually people (like you) who tune in each week to this nook, it is also sort of presses on that weak spot in my psyche that is constantly egging on to “be perfect.” Ugly business. You know, the virus of  ”should be, should say, should do” that holds us all back from being our best, truest possible selves. Every so often when I get down to business writing here, I get stuck on an idea where it’s like, rats, I can’t say that or I can’t talk about this because I don’t want to offend or upset someone. There is a quiet nagging voice warning: “must be poised, must be calm, must be wise, must not ruffle too many feathers.” And okay, to a certain degree the conscientiousness is good – even necessary. The world would be a much nicer place if we all just learned to check ourselves now and then when we have an outrageously passionate thought. But too much editing, filtering, and accommodating makes me feel like a robot.

   

   Yet, as it were, this week I did not feel calm. I did not feel rational. I did not feel yogic. So many things that made me want to light the kitchen on fire, really. There was not a stable emotion to cling to for more than a few hours as I boomeranged between elation, empowerment, anger, sadness, frustration, confusion, joy, and crushing heartbreak. I chopped off 10 inches of hair on Tuesday with unabashed lightness, yet on Friday my chest was so heavy with sorrow for all the suffering, depravity, and cruelty of this world that I could barely stand as Shaun held me in his arms. A mess I tell you; imagine me later over a cutting board shouting “Society, Society!” at the top of my lungs with a clenched fist of radishes just like Eric McAndless from the film Into The Wild when an article on Texas abortion laws push it all over the edge. Crazy person, crazy.

   I have a food blog. We take pretty pictures and share healthy recipes. That’s nice. Sweet. But on the other side of the editing table is an intense passion for “stuff” other than vegetables that floods my veins with purpose, intention, and deep conviction. The perfection trap can’t even put up a fight today because  right now my heart is too swollen, my spirit soggy with the weight of a million weary voices and divisive ideologies that I alone cannot bring together or make better. There is a lot I really, really don’t understand about the world right now. I’ll keep kicking here, but it’s hard to profess my great love for salad in this state.

   So I suppose I’ll stall a bit more. Stalling with grace, hopefully. It’s what I’m holding onto through all of this and I think you should too, whatever it is you see in the world, your world, that concerns you. Grace is everywhere in everything. Grace during moments of distress. Grace for times of great joy. Grace through the angst. Grace in failure. Grace for the good fight. Grace for the radish-rants in the kitchen. Grace for the people and ideas and things we don’t understand. Lets just have some grace, sound good?

   

   Greens, Herbs, and Roasted Radishes

   • 3 bunches of radishes
   • 1 head butter lettuce
   • 1 head romaine
   • 6 endives
   • 1 avocado
   • juice of 2 lemons
   • 1/2 cup olive oil, divided
   • 1/4 cup shallot, minced
   • 2 tbsp dill, minced
   • 2 tbsp mint, minced
   • salt/pepper
   • (optional) smoked salmon

   Rinse and remove greens from radishes. Halve or quarter (depending on the variety you go with) and coat with olive oil and salt and pepper on a heavy baking sheet. Roast in a 400′ oven for 20-25 minutes until blistered but not totally browned. Set aside to cool.

   Combine chopped butter lettuce, romaine, and endive (cores removed) in a large bowl. Slice and dice avocado into cubes over the bowl, then add chunks of salmon (optional) and the cooled radishes. For the dressing: whisk together olive oil, shallots, dill, and mint with the lemon juice in a small bowl. Pour over the salad, add some sea salt and fresh pepper, and toss with your hands or wood tongs.

   

   (ps) I’m giving away books on Facebook this week. Just because I feel like it. Hop on over to get in on the party.

3. Guest Post from “The First Mess”

   January 12, 2012 4:36 am 16 Comments

   

   I had the pleasure of meeting Laura through her blog over the summer and was instantly captivated by her honesty, authenticity, and food philosophy. There is a light about her too, the kind you gravitate to, the light that makes your heart feel full. I’d like to call her a friend in real life, one day. At her blog, The First Mess, Laura shares seasonal recipes that are accessible, and full of gratitude. When she sent over the writing, recipe, and gorgeous photos for today’s guest post, I had to resist an urge to make a second trip to Whole Foods for the day and pick up some dill for this recipe. This is the kind of thing I could eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Thank you, Laura, for sharing your passion and light in this space…

   keep reading…

   (more…) «Guest Post from “The First Mess”»

   

   Throughout my adult life, food has been there. I would say it’s been a driving force of empowerment; rather than just simply “there”. I grew up with a local produce market as the family business. It was my first job as a teenager. We always had giant tomato plants and greens in the garden in the summer and beautiful preserves to brighten the cold months, to remind us of preparation, knowledge, hard work and its virtues.

   In university I began to examine virtue in depth. Along with it came gluttony, suffering, thirst, the danger of mono-crops, cultures that live and breathe with the land, famine, commodities, freedom and community feeling. In college I learned how to poach an egg, make pie pastry, clean and filet a whole fish, sharpen a knife and how to convert ounces to grams.

   Working in restaurants tends to develop ones education greatly, regardless of the seeming triviality of any given task. I’ve learned that no one is ever too good to slice a pear or scrub a pot. Your reasons for pursuing the industry? To serve others, to fill their bellies and delight them completely. Repetitive, lower skill set tasks are a bit part of that dining room experience. It’s never about you, not even for a second. If serving others means something to you, and it pays your bills, do it well.

   I still learn things all the time. When I started assisting with a youth program that focused on empowerment through food education, I realized how unusual my own upbringing was. The constant presence of fresh food, the every-night family dinners, a big garden in the summer and a jammed cellar in the winter, a job, a sense of community at the table, everything. It made me incredibly grateful and hopeful at the same time. I was awe-struck by these kids reaching for all of the built-in facets of my upbringing on their own because they could see and feel the inherent good in all of them independently.

   

   You know what else blew me away? This amazing grain salad that I learned how to make when I was there. It’s more of a technique that you develop and work with according to the season as opposed to a prescribed recipe. A handful of dill one time, cilantro for the next batch. Walnuts and chopped fennel or mango and sesame seeds, whatever you like. As you develop your own take, share it with others and enjoy it over time, you will definitely start to feel quite mighty. I promise.

   Mighty Grain Salad 

   Created, photographed, and shared by Laura from The First Mess

   • 2 cups cooked grain (I used bulgur)
   • 2 cups finely diced vegetables (I used shallots, carrots and fennel)
   • 2 cups beans or lentils (I used red lentils)
   • 2-3 stalks of leafy greens, chopped fine (I used lacinato kale)
   • 1 heaped handful of chopped fresh herb (I used dill)
   • 1 handful of toasted nuts or seeds (I used walnuts)
   • 1 handful of dried fruit (I used currants)
   • 1 handful of crumbled soft cheese (I used sheep’s milk feta)
   • ¼ cup oil (I used extra virgin olive oil)
   • ¼ cup acid (I used a mix of orange juice and apple cider vinegar)
   • salt and pepper to taste
   • optional: 1-2 tsp ground spices (I used some ground coriander)

   Combine the grain, vegetables, lentils, chopped herbs, leafy greens, nuts, dried fruit and cheese in a large bowl. Mix the oil, acid, spices, salt and pepper in a small bowl. Pour mixture over the grain and vegetable mixture and toss to combine. Taste for seasoning and serve.

4. Crunchy Dill Spread (or) Dip

   June 3, 2010 9:32 pm Leave a Comment

   

   Summer is finally here! Shaun will continue the whole 5 day work-week gig while I spend a few weeks at home in Northern California. In July, we’ll reunite when I return to San Diego for an internship with the International Rescue Committee.  Absence makes the heart grow fonder, though. In the meantime, we’ll post recipes remotely. Shaun will tackle more kitchen time, and I’ll have to tackle more camera time and Happyolks will bear with us (smiles). I’ve been slow to post this dill recipe, but the photos and recipes are piling up and I don’t want to let this one (like many others) slip away. I got the idea for this spread to be used with the salmon sandwiches, but ended up favoring it as a dip for crunchy raw veggies like carrots, red bell peppers, and cucumbers. If you’re looking for something light for an afternoon backyard soiree, this is one is a keeper. I will warn, because there is Greek yogurt involved, the dish would need to be kept chilled!

   • 1 cup Fage 0% Greek Yogurt
   • 1/2 cup red onions, finely chopped
   • 1/2 cup celery, finely chopped
   • 1/8 tsp salt
   • 2 tablespoons minced fresh dill
   • juice of a few lemon slices

   Super easy — combine ingredients, stir and serve! Fresh and basic, it won’t take away from the taste of your fabulous crisp veggies.