Tag Archives: Ginger

Spring-y Spring Rolls with Carrot Ginger Miso Sauce

April 9, 2012

When I start a copywriting assignment with a new client, the most important question I ask to get to know them is “where are you, what are you doing, and who are you with when you most feel like yourself?” They often smile, get a little quiet, and start to tell a story. Somewhere they visited, Saturday rituals at home… little details that reveal their personality and perspective. It’s more anthropological experimentation than it is helpful writing tool. Often, how they answer this question is entirely different than the manner in which they answer all the others. They haven’t prepared for this sort of prompt, so they have a chance to share in their sincerest form. How interesting is it that?

Using the exercise on myself, I become overwhelmed with a deep and exhilarating sense of peace and understanding as I am instantly transported to a time and space where things were just as they should be. When I find myself drifting off course or am sorting through serious life decisions, I try to practice this mediation. It has a funny way of bringing my head and heart back into alignment when the wires get crossed or cut. I’ve recently come to think of it as my “happiness compass.”  Ultimately, when we are able to live out the truest, most authentic versions of ourselves, we can be the most happy.

I think so often we get caught up in creating an idea of happiness that we look too far outward, forward to things and elaborate ideas that will slingshot us out of a current state of fatigue, frustration, fear, etc. While I totally think happiness is something you can and should work to manifest, in times of uncertainty, it is best guided by the reminders living inside us all. Memories can’t provide direct answers for our troubles, but the process of remembering may lull the voices, our own and otherwise, that may be pulling/pushing us into a direction that leaves us feeling unsettled. It creates space for us to truly consider all that we know to be true, trust all that is yet to be taught, and go forward with a sense of empowerment to just be. It brings everything back to center. There may be chaos, there may be distraction, there may be consternation… but in our own answer, there can be stillness. And that is enough.  

So I ask you this question, today…

Where are you, what are you doing, and who are you with when you most feel like yourself?” 

Close your eyes. Listen. Let those places, people, spaces wash over you and fill you with love and light.

Feel free to shred, julienne, or dice anything your heart desires for these guys — spring rolls are incredibly versatile. I’ve mixed soft greens, crisp cabbage, and creamy avocado to diversify the texture. Add or subtract herbs as desired. Play with the sauce to your liking too, I spotted it in the magazine and knew it had potential.

And… get this: Happyolks has a free app for iPhone. Um, What!? Speaking of things that remind us who we really are, my incredible/handsome/kind little brother spent the semester in one of his engineering courses developing it for us. Hugs to Austin for his hard work. Download it from the App Store and check for updates and new features as the year progresses.

Spring-y Spring Rolls 

  • 1 dozen medium rice paper sheets
  • 1 head napa cabbage, shredded
  • 3 cups escarole (or soft lettuce), shredded
  • 2 cups micro basil
  • 2 cups whole mint leaves
  • 3 avocados, segmented

Carrot Ginger Miso Sauce - adapted from Bon Appetit

  • 2 tbsp miso paste
  • 1/4 cup minced spring onion
  • 6 tbsp olive oil
  • 2-3 tbsp finely grated carrot
  • 2-3 tbsp finely grated ginger
  • 1 tbsp toasted sesame oil
  • t tsp rice wine vinegar
  • 2 tbsp honey (brown rice syrup for vegans)
  • juice of one lemon
  • sprinkle of salt

Submerge a single spring roll wrapper in a bowl of hot water until completely pliable, about 15 seconds. Remove, and gently set on a flat surface. Layer with cabbage, escarole, avocado, and herbs. Construct a roll like a burrito; start with the bottom and cover the horizontal line of veggies. Fold in both sides and press to seal. Roll up tightly to the top and seal the edge. Set aside. Repeat.

For the sauce “Place all ingredients plus 1/4 cup water in a resealable container. Cover and shake vigorously until well combined.”

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Burning

March 11, 2012

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.”

Jack Kerouac, On The Road


These ginger cookies are for you, you with the fire in your belly. For you who has a burning thing inside your being that says “you must create, you must go, you must love, you must dive head first, you must stand up, you must be brave, you must not be afraid to fail.”

Feed and surround yourself with the fuel that lights up your soul. People. Places. Things. Thoughts. Torch it all. It’s the one true thing you really have to offer this world. Don’t let others put it out. But more importantly, don’t get in your own way by worrying what others will think of that brain you were given, that heart that beats loudly in your chest, that burning thing you’ve cultivated and believed in. Throw it out and set it all aflame. Watch it glow. Watch it spread. Watch it change this world.

Ginger Oat Cookies 

slightly adapted from Jude Blereau

  • 1/2 cup dried dates, chopped
  • 3 cups rolled oats
  • 3/4 cup cooked oatmeal
  • 1/2 cup pecans or walnuts, chopped
  • 1/2 cup glacé (crystalized) ginger, chopped
  • 1/2 cup coconut oil
  • 1/4 cup brown rice syrup
  • 1 tsp vanilla
  • 2 eggs

Preheat the oven for 350.’ Cook the oatmeal on a stovetop first 1/2 cup of oats to 1 cup water. Set aside, let cool. Soak the dates in 1/4 of extra hot water, and mash with a fork. Add the vanilla to the date paste when room temp.

In a large bowl, combine oats, oatmeal, nuts, and ginger. Add mashed up dates/vanilla as well as the coconut oil, brown rice syrup, and eggs. Mix together with your hands until well combined and coated. Mixture will feel wet and not overly sticky. Shape into balls and place onto a baking sheet covered with parchment paper. Bake for 15-20 minutes until lightly browned on the edges and top.

More on the cake-y side than in cookie camp. I think these would make excellent morning-0n-the-run bars if pressed into a 8×8 pan and cut into squares.

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Bok Choy Noodle Bowl

March 4, 2012

The first few days after we say goodbye to a foster are a little funk. The house feels different. I would even call it melancholy if not for the memory of that one moment where the new family waves goodbye with the dog in their arms, new loving arms. There are few other  smiles more sincere I’ve seen that that moment. It zaps the emptiness in the kitchen immediately. I grind the coffee, I prepare the kettle, and I think of how different, how much richer the new family’s story will be with their new canine friend.

People often tell me that they could never foster dogs because they’d want to keep them all. I’ll admit it’s tough. Shaun and I sat in silence for a bit when we drove away from Tex’s new house on Thursday. Wind from the open windows held back tears. We held hands and smiled. For what was, what all will be. My heart was so, so full. Honestly, I felt like it would burst. Words needn’t be spoken. It was a perfect silence. Joy filled the car knowing that everything was just as it should be.

Each dog over the past year has given us a chance to practice love, patience, flexibility and prepares us, ultimately, for the inevitablity of goodbyes that the future will always hold. The whole process requires an accountability to truly live in the present. The dogs, just like most other people and things, come into our lives without much warning and we never really know how long they’ll stay. It encouarges us to let go of expectation, give all of our love with all of our hearts, stop holding back, and make everyday a new adventure because you don’t know how long you’ll have together. It’s amazing how a little creature that has such limited means of communicating can deliver such a profound lesson on life, on life and time.

Here today, gone tomorrow. Fostering teaches how to absorb the waves of change instead of letting them knock us on our toosh. Nothing stays the same for long. Nothing lasts forever. The good stuff, the not so good stuff — it all comes and goes, as it should.

Thanks Tex. You and each of your friends that came before you have loosened us up a bit for the big changes, the big excitements, and the big disappointments we’re destined for in the future. We’re better equipped to handle the waves because of you.

Braised Bok Choy Noodle Bowl 

serves 2-4

  • 1 lb baby bok choy
  • 1/2 lb shitake mushrooms
  • 1 cup green onion, chopped
  • 1-2 packages 100% Buckwheat noodles
  • 1/4 cup coconut oil, divided
  • 2 tbsp toasted sesame oil, divided
  • 4 cloves garlic, minced
  • thumb sized nub of ginger, grated
  • 1 lemon + 2 limes
  • 2 tbsp white or rice wine vinegar
  • 1 1/2 tsp sea salt

Start with the noodles. Bring a large pot of water to boil with a bit of oil to keep noodles from sticking. Buckwheat cooks in 8 minutes so keep a close watch and remove from heat and rinse immediately. Set aside while you prepare the veg.

Remove the bottoms of the bok choy and place leaves in a bowl of cool water to let the dirt and bits fall to the bottom. Bring a heavy pan (or wok, if you have one) to heat with 2-3 tbsps of coconut oil, 1 tbsp of sesame oil, and the garlic and ginger. Simmer to brown the garlic then add the damp bok choy leaves and braise in the oil for about 5 minutes. Remove from heat and set greens in a small bowl. There should still be a bit of oil in the pan for the mushrooms. Slice them into 1/4″ slices and sauté for 2-4 minutes, depending how hot the pan is. Remove ‘shrooms and set with the bok choy.

Add a bit more coconut and sesame oil back to the pan with the juice of one lemon and vinegar and let simmer. Add the dried and cooled noodles until coated and warmed. Assemble the bowl with noodles as a base, layering the mushrooms and boy choy on top. Sprinkle with salt, a bit of lime juice, and the fresh green onion.

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Crumbs on the Floor

January 22, 2012

Back in the kitchen again; things are well with my soul. There are no pressing questions that need attending, no decisions that need making. I answer only to the boil, simmer, crackle, melt. From where I prepare vegetables I can see children with kazoos across the yard and I can hear the new neighbors moving furniture upstairs. I wiggle my toes on the linoleum and I can feel a few breadcrumbs leftover from before Christmas. It’s good to be here, good to be home.

January has lived up to it’s reputation. Turbulence. Upheaval. Shifting. Stirring. The boozy eve of the new year has long since passed, but it wasn’t until today that it felt like the glass ball actually stopped dropping. I fell in love (or lust?) with a new city on the first, my intuition took a sabbatical around the third and by the thirteenth (until, well, yesterday) I was scrambling on the floor searching for my good sense. New places, new faces, and new ideas shook me in ways that were at once thrilling and dislocating. A strong under-toe of emotion leeched at my ankles. Panic set in. Suddenly I found myself clinging to things in the temporal world to validate and repair the disequilibrium I felt at my center.

Who are you? What will you do? And, where are you going? 

I held on. I pushed away from the ledge. I wrote. I forgot. I remembered. On the plane home I let it rush in. We (humans) can be so hard ourselves when we get off track. We fight those ugly parts of our being so fervently without stopping to look at the mess and think about it before cleaning it up. I’m generally in the “one foot in front of the other” camp of life wisdom, but sometimes it’s okay not to move at all. Just sit. Kneel. Stand in the kitchen with breadcrumbs on the floor. Just be there. Just swim in it for a little. See what comes up.

It may take a day, three, or a whole lunar cycle. It settles. I promise.

Sweet Potato, Curry, and Quinoa (in a bowl) 

Serves 2-4 (we’re hungry folk)

  • 1 cup fair trade quinoa
  • 4 medium sweet potatoes
  • 1 large red onion
  • 1/4 cup ghee (clarified butter)
  • large handful of spinach
  • 1 cup vegetable or chicken broth
  • 1/4 cup currants
  • 1 clove garlic
  • fresh ginger
  • 1/4 cup curry powder of choice
  • 1 tsp sea salt

Scrub potatoes. With skins on, cut into 1″ cubes and lay out on a baking sheet. Toss with a bit of oil and salt. Bake at 475′ for 20 minutes. Combine two cups of water to one cup of quinoa (remember to rinse first!) in a medium pot and bring to a boil. Cook for 12-15 minutes until water is fully absorbed. Remove from heat.

Roughly chop red onion and saute in a large saucepan with the ghee until softened. Add minced garlic and grated ginger to the onions and saute for a bit longer, adding stock if it seems to stick to the pan. Remove from heat. Add sweet potatoes when they are just beginning to brown and crisp on the edges. Add a cup of stock and the curry powder, stirring to coat. Let simmer for 5-10 minutes, adding stock, a bit of ghee, and some salt to develop flavor. Add some well chopped spinach and toss to barely wilt.

Serve over a bed of quinoa with a sprinkling (or more) of currants.

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Spiced Apple Molasses Cake

December 4, 2011

Muscle memory. By definition it’s synonymous with motor learning, a form of procedural memory that involves consolidating a specific motor task into memory through repetition. The idea is when a movement or thought process is repeated over time, a “long-term muscle memory” is created so that with practice that task can be performed without a conscious effort. It’s a concept that’s been on my mind lately. With the end of another semester upon me, I’ve begun to feel the usual stresses that accompany it.

With three and a half years practice, the muscle memory is pretty reliable by now. My mind and body quickly get with the program, summoning my emotion, faculty, and willpower to engage at full speed. In some ways this is great. Things get done. Books get read. Term papers get written. But what trappings have my conditioned mind led me into again? Unnecessary stress? Check. Anxiety? Check. Emotional highs and lows? Check. Silly stuff in the big picture.

I think the whole muscle memory concept is amazing when you step back and look at how it works in so many aspects of our lives. On the physiological level, a person can teach her legs, her heart, and her lungs to run, jump, skip, swim — and with time she can be active without a conscious effort. In the same way I think there is a sort of psychological muscle memory that exists too. We can program our thoughts and responses to variety of situations through repeated practice to a point where these things too can be performed without conscious effort. Over time instead of stopping and thinking, our brains skip thinking and our muscles just “do,” or react. In some ways, this can be incredibly powerful. We can condition positivity, optimism, and non-judgment to inherently color our intentions and actions. On the flip side, it also means we fall into traps of repeated emotions and behaviors that we’ve been programmed for so long to experience the condition in a certain way.

Here’s the awesome part: we can totally reprogram our muscle memory. It takes one conscious second to check yourself and say, “Hey, experience X, so we’ve been here before, how has my programmed response been working out? What if we tried this a little differently?” With enough practice (and a bit of patience and self-love) we can rewire our responses to certain experiences and situations to better serve us. There will be slips. We’ll fall back into those old habits and thoughts. It’s okay. We’re human. But in time those yucky, dark spots that we find ourselves falling into in certain situations will be obsolete.

I’m practicing, in oh so many ways. Final exam preparations included. It’s working. Start with a piece of Spiced Apple Molasses Cake.

Spiced Apple Molasses Cake 

Slightly adapted from Real Simple 

  • 1/2 cup grapeseed oil
  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
  • 1 teaspoon cinnamon
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
  • 1/2 teaspoon sea salt
  • 1/2 cup blackstrap molasses
  • 1/2 cup packed brown sugar
  • 1 large egg
  • 1 tsp vanilla
  • 1 tbsp fresh grated ginger
  • 5 apples (I used fuji) peeled and cut into 1/2 inch chunks

Heat oven to 350° F. In a mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, cloves, and salt. Set aside. In a mixing bowl or stand mixer, whisk together the oil, molasses, brown sugar, egg, ginger, vanilla and ½ cup boiling water. Slowly stir in the flour mixture until just combined. Add the apples last, folding generously to disperse evenly throughout the mixture. Pour batter into an oiled and floured cake pan, or cast iron skillet. Bake for 45 minutes (closer to 55 with the cast iron) until it passes the toothpick test. Let cool for at least 10 minutes. Enjoy as a dessert or breakfast cake with a cup of french pressed coffee.

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