Tag Archive: Fennel

1. For Sarah, For All of Us

   April 14, 2013 8:06 pm 64 Comments

   

   Dear Sarah,

   I saw your comment come through last week on my lunch break and I haven’t stopped thinking about you since. When asked, you  shared that you intend stand in your truth this year by holding fast to the understanding that you don’t need to have your whole life after college completely planned out, that you can just take it step by step. Oh Sarah, I wish I could stand sideline giving high-fives and waving my pom-pom’s about to cheer you on through this phase and in this truth. A year ago I stood in some version of your shoes, looking ahead to the future with confidence and eagerness and a whole lot of WHOA, WHAT NOW swirling in my belly. As you begin to close this big chapter of your life, here is what I want you to know… you’re not alone. This month and every month henceforth there will be women graduating college, giving birth to their first children, changing jobs, moving to different countries, suffering great loss, celebrating small victories, and will be, in sum, simultaneously in the process of discovering the person they are meant to become, the work they are here to do on this planet, and what in the heck it’s all going to look like.

   The truth is, plan or not, the next year of your life, and life after college at large, will look nothing and everything like you could possibly imagine. I had trouble sleeping the night before we started our trek in Patagonia last month so I got out of bed before dawn and sat on the floor in the powder-blue tiled bathroom of Maria’s Hostel, cutting my nails, counting and reflecting upon the memories and mistakes of the past year. I leaned against the door and stared at the fluorescent light overhead and wondered what God was thinking in that moment. Silence. Taped next to the sink a printed sign “no lave la ropa – do not wash the clothes.” I had to laugh. If someone would have told me a year ago that I would be sitting on the floor of a bathroom in Chile in the kind of mental, physical, spiritual state I found myself experiencing, I would have thought they were out of their freaking mind. This is to say, the next year will be more outrageously beautiful and thrilling and fulfilling than you could hope. It will also challenge you to dig in to the deepest, most sacred parts of your soul to stay true to who you are and to fight through all sorts of exhaustion, loneliness, and missed turns.

   You will meet many teachers. Some of them will come to you carrying the light. They are the universe’s way of telling you that you are powerful and beautiful and full of so much potential. They will hold you up like buoys when you get tired during the big swim. They will usher and encourage you to see and take paths that will help you stretch and grow and develop into the woman you’re meant to become. Some teachers will come into your life throwing big punches, they are, what an old friend used to call “the darkies.” They will make you wrestle with your idea of right and wrong and good and bad and test you, persistently, to hold on to yourself. You will duck and miss the blows most days but sometimes you’ll forget about the hook shot and you’ll be on your back seeing stars. It’s okay. This is all part of it. The toughest teachers will be the ones that look like they’re carrying the light, but are carrying something else. They will present you with some pretty sweet sounding opportunities and lifestyles. There will be a split-second lightning bolt feeling you’ll get in your chest when you first meet these teachers that sets you at dis-ease. Latch on to that! Remember this feeling. It is your intuition whispering to stay centered, stay true. Dig into those deep reserves of strength and surround yourself with those who love you unconditionally. They’ll remind you to not take the bait.

   

   Try new things. Put yourself in environments and situations that push on the tender spots of your heart. Look hard. Listen hard. Watch the way people live and love. Be an observer of everything around you and all that you feel. When you are paying attention, the right paths and the “plan” for which you were put here to charge will be revealed to you. Try to block out the noise of “shoulds” that society or your tribe has prescribed for you. It’s your journey. Write it in YOUR pretty colors. As for a career, you very well may find yourself graduating with a degree in International Politics or Advanced Mathematics and taking a job at a grocery store stuffing tortellini in plastic cups for ten bucks an hour. It’s okay. That phase will be part of your becoming. In those places you will learn the dignity of hard work, the true meaning of community, and expand the breadth of your compassion for all people and all things.

   You will laugh a lot. There will be days when all it takes for the wind to blow across your face a certain way and you will be moved to tears with gratitude for all that is. You will cry a lot. There will be nights where the questions and the confusion and the unknown will completely swallow you whole. You will make great choices, you will make really shitty choices. They all matter. When you find yourself in situations or relationships or places that in your gut you know to be pulling you away from who you are, find the courage to leave them. When you find yourself in situations or relationships or places that you know in your gut to be right and whole, find the courage to stay. Even if you’re scared to death. Joan Didion says, “we have to choose the places we don’t walk away from.” Sometimes it will be easier to run than it is to stay. It’s up to you.

   

   If you want to see the world, do it. Nothing is stopping you. Go out and hear the bells ring on steps of Spanish Cathedrals, meditate in a Shinto temple, offer flowers and your secrets to the River Ganges, ride a bike in the rain through the farms of central Vietnam. If you feel called to go then go. You must. Remember too, though, that you don’t need to fling yourself across the globe to shift your perspective. A new place doesn’t change your life. You change your life. You will, at every moment of the next year, have the extraordinary gift of choice to redirect your sails. I will not look back on the past year and see our pilgrimage to Patagonia as the catalyst for closing chapters and starting new ones. I will see a girl sitting in the shower, weeks before mountains and rivers and glaciars with no tears left to cry, letting the water rush over her shoulders and taking the responsibility, FINALLY holding herself accountable, and deciding that she wanted things to be different in her life. Once I truly believed myself capable, a million answers to the million questions I had asked for months on end seemed to appear on the tub ledge, mine for the taking and making. Patagonia didn’t give me that. I gave me that. And you can, and will, too.

   

   I quit my grocery store gig when I got back from Chile, almost a year after leaving San Diego and playing my first hand. I am grateful for what was, but time that I set intentions in my heart and to the people I love to be a better partner, better friend, and to set free alllll the lessons and teachers and triumphs and setbacks to make space for new ones. My truth, today, is different than it was last year and I know it will be different in six months, a year, and every year for the rest of my life but like you, I know that I can take it all step by step. Today if I meet someone at a coffee shop or the lobby of the DMV and they ask me what I “do” I will say I am a writer. I have no idea what that means, really, at least in the tangible sense, but I know just saying it out loud will help manifest my truth. I know that when you are brave and you are honoring of yourself and others, the world gets all sneaky and wonderful on you, wrapping you up in it’s arms to celebrate and support you to keep on. Hold on to those moments. Lap them up. Roll around in them and know that YOUR plan, and the kind of earnestness and passion it will take to discover, is perfect.

   Go get ‘em Sarah. You’re right, you don’t need your life planned out after college. Stand in your truth and know that I am here, we are ALL here, doing cartwheels for you and the journey ahead.

   

   Roasted Spring Vegetable Quinoa Salad

   Serves 4-6

   • 1 ½ cups quinoa (dry)
   • 6 small beets
   • 6 radish bulbs
   • 1 large head fennel, fronds reserved
   • 1 bunch parsley, roughly chopped
   • 1 small red onion, diced
   • ¼ cup minced chives
   • 4-6 cloves garlic, minced
   • 3 plump lemons
   • ½ cup + 3 tbsp olive oil
   • salt & pepper to taste

    

   Bring 3 cups and a few extra tablespoons of water to a boil. Cook quinoa over medium heat for 15-18 minutes or until water is absorbed and the seed has germinated. Set aside to cool.

   Preheat the oven to 400.’ Rigorously wash the beets and radishes, as you will not be peeling them before roasting. Remove grimy tops and cut beets and radishes into fourths, then sixths or 8ths. You want large-ish, yet bit sized wedges. Cut fennel bulb in a similar fashion, top to bottom. Toss wedges of radish, beets, and fennel together with olive oil and salt in a parchment lined sheet pan. Roast in the oven for 20-30 minutes, turning veggies over to brown and soften on all sides.

   In a large mixing bowl, combine chopped parsley, chives, diced red onion with cooled quinoa. In a small jar prepare the dressing by combining ½ cup olive oil, juice of 3 whole lemons, salt, pepper, and minced garlic cloves. Shake to combine.

   Add roasted vegetables to the quinoa mixture. Stir in dressing to coat. Garnish with sprinkling of fennel fronds to finish.

   

   To my complete amazement, Happyolks has been selected this year as a finalist in Saveur Magazine’s Food Blog Awards in the Best Cooking Blog category. It is humbling, thrilling, and outrageously affirming to stand next to friends and mentors in this. Truly. If you like an underdog story, head over and cast your vote for us by Friday, April 19.

2. Cherries + Fennel + Lentils

   July 9, 2012 7:30 pm 43 Comments

   

   Summer storms are a new indulgence for me. Cozied in a reading chair by our front window I tend to my journal and a cup of cold tea. Torrents of rain bear down on the front walk and I visualize a release of stagnant memories, ideas, and beliefs being carried down the road with the leaves to the storm drain. Shaun is in the Domincan Republic, filming, and I sit alone, silent at my perch, letting the explosive energy of the passing thunder reverberate in my bones.

   Thoughts pass, yet nothing lingers. I experience an excess of calm amidst the raging weather and am reminded, again, of my smallness. I am a speck of matter and energy in this massive, bursting earthplane of people, places and dreams.

   During my months living at sea, I used to spend hours gazing upon the open ocean, begging the waves to teach me their humility and sense of time. Years later, in this chair and the throes of a summer storm, no begging is needed. I am both humbled and grateful for the gift of an unrushed hour to my afternoon. Tears form, then a smile. For the first time in a long time, I actually believe it will all be okay. 

   Tomorrow my morning walk will smell of fresh ideas, resolve, and renewed opportunity, the rain will have cleansed the world of todays mistakes and made space for all that can, and will, come next. Exhale.

   // july 6

   

   Cherry, Lentil, Fennel Salad 

   • 1/2 lb red cherries, pitted and halved
   • 1 small bulbs fennel, shaved
   • 4-5 small red beets, chopped
   • 1/2 cup de puy lentils
   • 2 giant handfuls of baby greens (kale, chard, etc.)
   • 1 ripe avocado
   • 1 tbsp fresh basil, julienned
   • 1 tbsp fresh mint, julienned
   • 1/4 cup shallot, minced
   • 1/4 cup olive oil
   • juice of 1 lemon
   • 1/2 cup pumpkin seeds, toasted
   • salt/pepper on hand

   I’m going to make these instructions short and sweet, a salad is as salad does folks. Boil lentils for 20 minutes. Remove. Rinse. Cool. Set aside. Steam sliced beets for 10 minutes. Rinse. Cool. Set aside. Finely slice fennel and place in a small bowl. Douse with salt and massage with hands. Let sit for 10 minutes, rinse, drain. Pit cherries. Set aside. Toast pumpkin seed under the broiler for 2-5 minutes until lightly browned. Set aside.

   In a large bowl combine basil, mint, shallot, olive oil, and lemon juice. Stir. Pile in cherries, softened fennel, steamed beets, and lentils. Stir to coat. Cut in Avocado. Toss with greens (probably should use your hands to get everything good and mixed/coated). Top with seeds, salt, pepper.

    ** Sharley and Caroline, this one’s for you ladies. Thank you for sharing your kindness and light with me last week.

   

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. Yes to Life, Yes to Beets

   July 1, 2011 5:06 pm 22 Comments

   There is nothing more rewarding than watching the people you love come alive doing the things they’re passionate about in their work and play. Shaun competed in the San Diego International Triathlon last weekend, medaling in his age group with an old-school bike, worn out shoes, and a humble heart. As I clocked his transitions and watched him cross the finish, I was overwhelmed with pride and love for this man, my comrade, my best friend and all of his amazing qualities.

   One of the things I love most about Shaun is that he says YES to life. Yes to the challenges, yes to the adventures, yes to the broke months, yes to the rich (er, relatively speaking) months, yes to giving his time, his love, and his energy to others indiscriminately and often. The biggest and most admirable “yes” has been in his commitment to making a career out of his strengths and passions. Many have viewed his path as challenging and unlikely; but his perseverance has ultimately led to success and happiness.

   Shaun inspires me every day as living, breathing proof that anyone can thrive when they break with conventional thinking and embrace their dreams (not anyone else’s), even when they seem risky.

   I don’t have enough hands to count the number of times I’ve had someone say to me: “Savor every last bit of college before the real world, you’ll never get this back.” These kinds of comments or warnings make me sad because they reflect on the dominant reality that many people are stuck doing things they don’t love, that they have no passion for, and are longing for (the distorted image of) their college experience when life was (seemingly) easy and carefree.

   I’m going to say YES to real life. Every phase of it. As I enter my last year in college, I couldn’t be happier to take what these years have taught me and put them to the test. That’s the point, isn’t it? With this attitude, we both can reward each other by coming alive and doing the things we’re passionate about. Thanks for leaving footsteps on the “road less traveled by,” Shaun. I love you to the stars and back.

   When it comes to vegetables, I’m really passionate about beets. No, but I’m serious. It’s taken some serious restraint to postpone another beet post on Happyolks. I was inspired by La Domestique’s “Beet Week” to share a recent recipe that is simple, light, and perfectly summer. I might add that this has made the absolute best brown-bag lunch to my internship this week, a tribute of sorts to Big Girls Small Kitchen and their upcoming brown-bag lunch feature. Say yes to the beets, people.

   Say yes to the Fennel, Beet, and Peach Salad:

   • 6 golden beets
   • 2 large heads of fennel
   • 2 large peaches or nectarines (yellow or white, your preference)
   • 1 tsp Apple Cider Vinegar
   • 3-4 Tbs Olive Oil
   • 2 tsp Salt, plus more to taste
   • Pepper

   Peel the beets and chop into fork friendly pieces. Fill a large stockpot with water, bring to a boil. Add the beets, and boil for 10-15 minutes or until tender.

   While the beets are softening, remove the large stalks of the fennel and cut into quarters. Remove the tough middle. In a food processor (have you guessed this is my favorite kitchen tool?) with the slicing disc, run the fennel through to thinly slice. Scoop the sliced fennel into a large bowl and toss with 2 teaspoons of salt. Let sit for 10 + minutes to soften. Prepare the peaches or nectarines by chopping or slicing them to your liking. My peaches were super soft so I went the “chunk” route.

   When the beets are tender, remove from their cooking liquid into a strainer and soak with cold water to stop the cooking process. When cooled and dry, return to the bowl of fennel and squeeze/pour the salty water that has now pooled at the bottom of bowl down the sink. Add the beets, and then the peaches. Stir in olive oil, apple cider vinegar, and a bit of pepper. Cover with tin foil and refrigerate for at least one hour before serving. Liven up with more salt and pepper if you like, and enjoy. :)

   

5. Traits From Dad

   June 21, 2011 11:17 am 5 Comments

   Although we would like to believe that many of our better qualities have been independently developed through time, growth, and experience; I think that our parent’s unconscious role-modeling profoundly influences (for better or worse) how we decide to live out our own lives. From the day we enter the world we are watching, observing, and absorbing information from our surroundings and constructing our own sense of self and character. The in-between moments, the day-to-day transactions and behaviors of our closest human contacts, our parents, were (and for many of us, still are) making a mark on our own disposition and decision making.

   This can be a scary thought for parents and adult children alike. No, you are not your mother or father. But his and/or her tremendous qualities and frustrating blind-spots have forced a response to change or emulate. The older I get, the more realizations I have about how my behaviors have been shaped by family. In lieu of Sunday’s passed celebration of Dads, here is my public thank you to my own, whose traits I am happy to share.

   

   Dad, I’m so glad you’ve rubbed off on me over the past twenty-one plus years. Your love, encouragement, and support have meant more than words can truly express. Thank you for consistently modeling patience, leadership, and how to ride the waves of change as they come in and out of life. You’ve helped shape me to be a fearless opportunity seeker,  showed me how (and how not) to work with challenging colleagues, and at the end of the day laugh it all off over a game of Liars Dice and an oatmeal rasin cookie. When my handwriting gets wonky I practice the curly-cue technique, and I always lean forward and try to “chi it” while running downhill. And like you, I also receive great satisfaction from fixing things, getting my hands dirty, and being the first one up in the morning.

   But seriously, Dad. You’ve been a role model through your intentions and actions, but also by just being yourself. Without trying, your fearless and adventurous nature has helped fuel my own fire for travel and exploration in the world. As a child, watching you pack on a dime and jet around Asia, Europe, and South America for work encouraged me to not fear the diversity and grandiosity of the planet, but to take it by the reigns. You planted a seed, without knowing it perhaps, that would later grow into a confidence* that I was meant to travel and explore without fear. Thank you for sharing this quality with me. In every sense of the phrase, it has given me the world.

   * … so, looks like really it was your fault that I trekked Vietnam by myself (wink wink)

   Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I’m proud to be your girl.

   My dad loves pea soup. I can’t say I’ve ever been a fan, but then again I’ve only encountered it in shades of grey thanks to my grandma’s copious post-Easter ham bone batches. Time for a remodel. I used a homemade mineral and marrow broth as the base, and added fresh spring peas from the market, a squeeze of lemon, garlic, and a little salt and pepper to make this a bright and nutritious alternative. Don’t hesitate to use quality, grass-fed animal bones in your broth, take note from Rebecca Katz: “Beef bones are filled with collagen and minerals the body uses to build connective tissues, such as calcium, magnesium, and phosphorus,” making them ideal substances to expedite the natural healing process from a range of abuses from exercise to chemotherapy.  This recipe can be easily made vegetarian, omit the bones, but increase healthy fats with more olive oil when sautéing the peas or adding avocado while blending.

   Pea Soup, featuring Mineral and Marrow Broth adapted from Rebecca Katz

   Ingredients

   • 1 large beef shank with bone and marrow
   • 1 large stalk of celery,
   • 6 large carrots
   • 2-3 sweet onions
   • 3-4 red potatoes
   • 1 large head of fennel
   • 1 bunch of Italian parsley
   • 5 cloves of garlic
   • 1 strip of kombu seaweed
   • 2 Tbs juniper berries
   • 1 Tbs peppercorns
   • 1-2 bay leaves

   Roughly chop all ingredients, leaving on the peels and skins. In a large stockpot, combine all ingredients. Fill the pot to two inches below the rim with water, cover and bring to a boil. Reduce heat, remove lid, and let simmer for 2-3 hours. The longer the simmer, the more flavor and minerals the broth will develop. As water evaporates, add about two cups, and allow to simmer for another hour.

   Strain stock into a large bowl or glass storage container using a large colander – it would be helpful to have an extra set of hands, as the transitions are heavy and quite hot!

   As the broth rests, prepare:

   • 3-4 cups of fresh peas, shelled from the pod (frozen is okay too)
   • 2 garlic cloves, minced
   • salt/pepper
   • 1 Tbs olive oil
   • 1 lemon

   In a small saucepan simmer garlic and olive oil for a minute over medium heat before adding the peas. Stir until just tender and still bright green. Add a Tsp of salt (or Herbamere) and pepper at the last moment. In a blender, combine half of the peas and 3 cups of the hot broth. Blend for 2-3 minutes until pureed. Pour into a large serving bowl straight from the blender, or through a fine mesh sieve to ditch the pulp (I’m a pulp person, but to each her own). Repeat process with the second half of the peas. Add a cup of plain broth to the mixture, then squeeze in the juice of one lemon. Take a taste test. What does it need? More salt? A little red pepper? A quick hit of apple cider vinegar? Use your gut, and serve as you like. Mark Bittman says a few crusty garlic croutons wouldn’t hurt, just sayin’.