Tag Archive: Tomatoes

1. 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.

   

2. Good Ju Ju

   August 12, 2011 3:00 am 25 Comments

   

   Ju Ju means energy; the experience of positive and negative forces all around us that charge our lives and shape each unique day on this planet. You know Ju Ju. It’s that thing when you enter a space and get that “off” feeling in your gut telling you it’s time to leave, it’s the woman who smiled at you when you were crossing the street yesterday, the long, warm embrace of your loved ones, the sensation of sand between your toes walking on the shore. It’s the powerful stuff that we pick up on everywhere when we let our intuition take the reigns.

   

   We can give it, receive it, create it, share it, leave it behind, pass it on; you can even give Ju Ju a good kneading like homemade yeast bread. We need good Ju Ju. We need bad Ju Ju too though. The polar forces help guide our decisions, steer our relationships, and challenge us to think about life in new, interesting ways. It’s a balancing act; I think the potential for both kinds of ju ju live in us at once and can be used to direct people when we least expect it. Some people call it vibe, at yoga you’ve probably heard it referred to as Prana… but whatever name you give it, you know that it’s some powerful stuff.

   

   Despite the fact that each day I generally rise to the blessings of good health, supportive relationships, and an intentional purpose; my Ju Ju reserves can still get a little low from time to time. Life gets messy, our heads get fuzzy, and the spark within us can grow dim. When I need good Ju Ju, I call my Mom. She shares her wisdom and light and helps re-ignite my own to honor and pass on to others.

   This week my Mom was flanked with a host of givers. I received more good Ju Ju than I knew how to process all at once. Surprise coverage from The Kitchn, Food52, FoodieCrush Magazine, Food In Jars, an interview feature with Kaileen Elise, and the positive affirmations from readers and friends have been a needed nudge. Thank you. Thank you for sharing your energy with me this week. If I could bottle it, seal it with wax, and send it right back to each of you ten-fold I would.

   

   Too often we disregard the profound impact that our simple words, actions, and intentions can have on the world and one another. Don’t. Seriously. We carry each other; everyday we take turns by sharing our Ju Ju. Give it away and watch it grow.

   

    Chickpea Fritters with Tomato Jam 

   Slightly adapted from Whole Food by Jude Blearau

   Tomato Jam 

   • 2 tsp olive oil
   • 1/4 cup crushed ginger
   • 4 garlic cloves, minced
   • 1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
   • 3 cinnamon sticks
   • 5-6 large heirloom tomatoes, chopped and most of the seeds removed
   • 1/3 cup brown sugar
   • 1 tsp cumin
   • 1/2 tsp ground cloves

   Heat olive oil in a saucepan over gentle heat. Add ginger and garlic and saute for 3-4 minutes. Add the vinegar and cinnamon sticks and cook until reduced by half. Add tomatoes, sugar, cumin, and cloves. Cover with a lid, and cook for 5 minutes over gentle heat. Remove lid, increase heat, and stir for 5-8 minutes to thicken. Reduce heat again and let simmer until thick.

    

   Chickpea Fritters 

   • 1 1/2 cup dried chickpeas, soaked for at least 8 hours
   • 1 small sweet onion, chopped
   • 2 cloves of garlic
   • 1 tsp ground coriander
   • 1 tsp cumin
   • pepper to taste
   • 2 eggs
   • 1 handful of parsley, chopped
   • 1 handful cilantro, chopped
   • 4 tbsp mint, chopped
   • 2 tbsp chickpea flour
   • olive oil, for frying

   Pour soaked chickpeas into a strainer, rinse and drain. Put soaked chickpeas in a food processor with minced garlic. Pulse for about a minute. Add the spices and pulse for another minute until finely ground, then place in a large mixing bowl. Add chopped onion, herbs, and flour and eggs and use your hands to combine. Form the mixture into small patties about 1/2″ thick. I started out thinking these would be chickpea burgers, but with half a loaf of bread on hand and no intention of running to the store, these became open faced sandwiches. Oops.

   Heat a little olive oil in a frying pan, just enough to cover the bottom well. Place patties in the pan and cook over medium heat (with a gentle sizzle) for 5-7 minutes on each side. Jude warns “don’t rush the process, the insides take a while to cook.” Serve with grilled olive oil bread and tomato jam.

3. Spring Panzanella

   May 4, 2011 6:53 am 23 Comments

   Life has a funny way of bringing things into our lives that tote a particular message just when we need it most. Last week I was sitting in a waiting room after a particularly tumultuous morning and picked up an old issue of O Magazine and opened it at a random page where “The Journey,” a poem by Mary Oliver was highlighted:

   One day you finally knew / what you had to do, and began, / though the voices around you / kept shouting their bad advice / though the whole house / began to tremble / and you felt the old tug / at your ankles. / “Mend my life!” / each voice cried. / But you didn’t stop. / You knew what you had to do, / though the wind pried / with its stiff fingers / at the very foundations, / though their melancholy was terrible.

   It was already late enough,  / and a wild night, / and the road full of fallen branches and stones. / But little by little, / as you left their voices behind, / the stars began to burn / through the sheets of clouds, / and there was a new voice which you slowly recognized as your own, / that kept you company / as you strode deeper and deeper / into the world, / determined to do the only thing you could do / determined to save the only life you could save.

   I could have melted right out of my seat. Mary’s wise words snuck into my day and gave me the boost of energy and confidence I desperately needed to stay the course.

   The gift was unexpected, as they often are. Rarely do signs appear with big flashing lights to guide or comfort us in difficult times. Inspiration surrounds us at every moment, gently whispering and nudging us in the right direction – half the time, we’re just too busy or distracted to even notice. Direction and guidance lie tucked in the innuendo; the passing smile of a stranger, old songs on the radio… little reminders that we are not alone and that it’s all okay.

   It is our work to practice mindfulness and give ourselves permission to spend time just noticing. When we stop to simply notice, our busy and anxious minds are forced to the sideline and our intuitions get a chance to shine. The little signs around us end up only pointing to what we already instinctively knew.

   Spring is the perfect season to practice the art of noticing all the beauty and wisdom the world has to offer us. The winds are shifting, the flowers are blooming, and the markets are bursting with fresh and invigorating vegetables that help keep a lightness about our days. The delicate bounties in our CSA box inspired a spring Panzanella based on Erin’s at Fresh365, but with produce this good my version ended up more like a big salad with extra croutons. The ingredient list may feel long, but hang with me.

   Spring Panzanella

   • ½ loaf of bread, cut into 1” cubes
   • 3-4 tablespoons olive oil
   • salt and pepper to taste

   • 2 leeks, sliced thin
   • 1 small bunch of asparagus, cut to 1” pieces
   • ¼ cup red onion, chopped
   • 2 small fennel bulbs, cut thin with a mandoline
   • 1 cup onion sprouts
   • 1 carton cherry tomatoes, halved
   • 1 cup spring peas, halved
   • 2-3 cups rocket, or arugula
   • ¼ cup fresh mint, chopped
   • ½ cup fresh basil, chopped
   • 1 can of garbanzo beans, drained and tossed with lemon

   • 1/3 cup olive oil
   • ¼ cup white wine vinegar
   • juice of ½ lemon

   Toss bread cubes in olive oil and generous amounts of salt, and pepper. Lay flat on a baking sheet and toss in the oven at 400’ for 10 minutes. Switch the oven to broil, and toast on one side for 2 minutes. Shake the pan to turn the cubes and broil until golden brown and crispy. Set to the side.

   In a small pan, bring 3-4 cups of water to boil and cook asparagus for no longer than 2 minutes. Remove from heat immediately and immerse in cold water to stop cooking. In a large bowl, combine the leeks, red onion, mint, basil, fennel, tomatoes, sprouts, and spring peas, toss with a splash of oil and vinegar, then add the rocket/arugula and cooled asparagus. Toss with the additional dressing, garbanzo beans, and bread cubes. Season with a bit of lemon juice, salt and pepper.

   

4. Being a Conscious Consumer

   April 5, 2011 12:34 pm 28 Comments

   From the start, I promised myself that I wasn’t going to make Happyolks an extended dissertation on current events, politics, or world affairs. My studies in international affairs keep me on the treadmill circuit of strategy, policy, issues, institutions, outcomes (you get the idea), and this blog is sort of a refuge from the demanding and complex focus of my school days. If you’re a visitor to this site, it’s likely that you are searching for yummy recipes and pretty pictures as a form of escapism too. The hour we spend researching, planning, and preparing a meal can be incredibly meditative and rejuvenating after the over-stimulation of our busy days. Careful mincing, flash searing, and watching the broiler are all tasks that require our full presence and attention. Subsequently, our brain sends out “hold the phone” signals to our endlessly swirling thoughts and emotions about the events of the day. Shaun is often bewildered that the first thing I want to do after a twelve hour day on campus is to break out the peeler and knives. He will ask, “don’t you want to relax for a minute?” Like any woman on a mission I respond, “nope, I just need to chop.” Ahh… Exhale. I hope you can relate to this feeling, because creating a nourishing meal should never be stressful.

   I run into a problem with this promise though. No, I don’t want to discuss politics. But when I read things about the international system and food supply that have direct implications for our foreign brothers and sisters that are imposed by health food consumers like you and me, I can’t hold my tongue.

   Recently in the New York Times there was an article published on how quinoa’s global success has created negative consequences on the grain’s indigenous cultivators in Latin America, particularly Bolivia.

   Quinoa, a plant related to beets and spinach, is a nutritional powerhouse known for its ideal amino acid profile and anti-inflammatory benefits. It’s one of the few plant foods that provide a complete protein making it an ideal grain for vegetarians, athletes, and the rest of us for that matter. The demand for the crop has grown exponentially and at first, the surge raised the incomes of the producers in the hemisphere’s poorest countries. Great right? Well, not really. An increase in demand has destined Incan quinoa harvests to go straight to the global free market for export, not local consumption. The price of local quinoa for Bolivians and other Latin American citizens is now too costly to consume, and malnutrition in these areas is on the rise as locals turn to packaged and processed foods that they can purchase within their tight budgets.

   The Bolivian government claims to be in the process of legislating domestic policy to increase the affordability of local quinoa, but it’s on us too as health-conscious consumers, to limit our consumption and only purchase products that are produced sustainably and  fair trade certified. If we can’t afford the fair value price of the grain, then we shouldn’t consume it. Tough love, I know. But you vote with your wallet. Food policy around the globe is tragic, truly it is, and Bolivia isn’t the only country that bears the cost of our unprecedented standard of living. Bananas in Nicaragua? Hello. For Latin America and beyond, If we all take small individual steps, we can reverse these exploitative and unbalanced patterns of the world economic system — and really, they’re easy to take in the kitchen. Idealistic? Sure. But it matters.

   So, quinoa lovers out there… here is a recipe that honors this beautiful “lost Incan” grain and the hard work it took to produce it. Please be a conscious consumer and use fair trade, certified organic products!
   Baby Artichokes and Hearty Veggie Quinoa

   • 1 package of fair trade certified organic quinoa, I recommend Alter Eco Products
   • 1 basket of Baby Artichokes (if you’ve never seen ‘em, then go with the canned version, the hearts taste better anyway!)
   • 1 basket cherry tomatoes
   • 1 ½ – 2 cups fingerling potatoes, halved
   • 3 small shallots, chopped roughly
   • 2 cloves of garlic, minced
   • ½ cup of pitted Kalamata olives, halved
   • Large handful of Italian parsley, chopped
   • Zest of ½ a lemon
   • Olive oil and balsamic vinegar for roasting the artichokes
   • Salt and pepper to taste

   If you find baby artichokes at your local farmers market or Whole Foods, chop off the ends and about ½ inch off the top and peel away a few of the outside leaves. Cut in half, and toss into a pot with a steaming crate. Steam for 12 minutes until nice and soft. If you don’t have baby artichokes (and unless you live in San Diego, that’s probably the majority of you) break open a can of artichoke hearts and rinse. With your prepared artichoke variety, toss with olive oil and balsamic vinegar and set aside. Turn oven on to a high broil setting.

   In a small pot, prepare the quinoa according to the package instructions. Like rice, it’s a 2:1 ratio, grain to water or vegetable broth. Bring water and grain to a boil, then reduce heat and cover for 12 minutes. Remove from heat when finished.

   Meanwhile, using the same pot that you steamed the chokes in, refill with a bit of water and steam the potatoes until tender. Set aside. In a sauté pan, over medium heat, sauté the shallots and garlic in some olive oil until golden (3-5 minutes). Add the potatoes, cherry tomatoes, olives, and parsley and stir over low heat. Add a little lemon zest and a bit of the olive liquid from the jar if you feel the mixture is too dry. The oven should be ready for the chokes, so send em in for about 5 minutes or until they are lightly browned on the edges. Add chokes and olive oil liquid to the sauté pan, removed from the heat source, and stir. Finally, add the quinoa, a few sprinkles of salt and pepper and garnish with a few sliced almonds.

5. Sun-Dried Tomato Basil Fettucini

   July 27, 2010 9:00 am 4 Comments

   If you “are what you eat,” then we all should be turning into zucchinis, tomatoes, or peaches… who hears me? This weekend at the farmers market, I made my way over to a tent that is ALWAYS packed. I’ll admit, I purposely avoided the area during my previous visits because I always felt like I would bother shoppers with my bulky hiking backpack that overflowed of carrot greens. There was a break in the action this Sunday though, and my Mom and I meandered over. One word – Wow. I can’t believe what I’ve been missing out on all this time! At least two dozen varieties of homemade pastas, breads, and pestos. Decisions were tough: chickpea fettuccine, spinach angel hair, sun-dried tomato capellini. We settled on the pappardelle with basil on the chefs recommendation.

   With a brand new hand-crank pasta maker at home, I thought making my own sun-dried tomato basil noodles would be an inspired challenge. I’m not sure how crazy creative this dish is, but I think that’s what I love most about it because when the plate or bowl is empty, you feel like you just got a great hug.

   

   Homemade Sun-dried Tomato Fettucini 

   • 1 cup unbleached bread flour
   • 2 eggs
   • 2 egg yolks
   • 1 tsp salt
   • 1/2 cup basil, minced
   • 1/4 cup, finely chopped
   • your favorite sauce (mine is plain old stewed tomatoes)

   In a large bowl combine flour, basil, tomatoes, and salt. Stir together, making a crater in the middle for the eggs. Crack the eggs and yolks into the crater and start to whisk them (as if you were scrambling eggs) slowly incorporating the flour surrounding it until the mixture sticks together and starts to crumble. Add about 1/4 cup of water, and begin to knead by hand on a lightly floured surface. When you have shaped a ball, cut into quarters. Set aside.

   Bring a deep saucepan filled with water to a boil. Saucepan sounds weird, but I think this is the easiest way to keep the noodles from sticking. Assemble your pasta machine. Before you start, remind yourself that patience is key in this process. Because the tomatoes and basil give the dough a bit of 3-Dimensionality, it’s not going to look perfect. Accept that. Proceed.

   With the cran on the lasagna setting, take one quarter of the prepared dough and roll it through to flatten. Fold the dough over itself three times and roll through one more time. Move the crank to the wide noodle setting, and roll the flattened dough through, catching the cut strips with a hand beneath the machine. A little extra flour helps things along. Use it when things feel too sticky. Set strands aside to dry slightly for about 20 minutes.

   In three batches, place pasta gently in a boiling saucepan and cook for about 5 minutes. Remove with a fork or ladle into a strainer to dry – do not rinse. Repeat until all the noodles are cooked.

   Top with your favorite pasta sauce, olive oil and garlic, parmesan cheese, or whatever strikes your fancy.