It’s not out of life’s character to move quickly, to come and go while often leaving a path of destruction not unlike the upended houses and thrown cars that get in the way of a tornado. Right now emails are coming in faster than I can respond to, we’re signing my little girl (my baby!!) up for preschool, I’m tripping over clean clothes spilling out of the confines of the basket and the dishwasher is loaded and unloaded more times that I can count in a day.

“In our next house I think we need a bigger dishwasher.” Gabe said while unloading yet another round. We’re both trying to seek some sort of sense in a season that has us both gasping for air.

These things happen. I’ve seen seasons come and go numerous times, particularly while being a parent. Just when you think you have a schedule figured out – baby is sleeping through the night, we’re getting three healthy meals on the table a day and we’re able to rest at the end of day – then suddenly something shifts and the new schedule that we took great pride in is pointless. Then in struts a new season without warning.

In our house we’re experiencing some shifting, a new busy season, and it’s provoked many moments of Gabe and I sitting on the couch staring blankly at the google calendar trying to make sense of the week. Nothing about these changes are bad – it’s multiple birthdays that call for multiple parties, book writing, new job opportunities, the start of wedding season, travel – but it’s enough to fill up the moments in our day and have us needing to seek out our priorities that don’t always get a time slot on the calendar.

The to-do list was growing by the minute last week and the 50 unread emails in my inbox were taunting me with their bold type but I knew we needed dinner. The sort that has food setting on multiple platters along the table. The kind of dinner that we ask the kids to set the table, with napkins even. They may be paper but even so a folded paper napkin with a fork and knife resting next to its crease somehow elevates the meal beyond the harried throw something on a plate because the kids are hangry dinners. Those happen too. But this time I was seeking the sort of dinner where we sit around the table and linger until the conversation dwindles and even then Gabe and I stick around for awhile while the kids carry their plates, with much of dinner still on it, into the kitchen then run off to play.

It seemed such a simple thing, in fact it was. Dinner was little more than braised chicken thighs with a bright white bean salad speckled with fresh mint, salty feta and peas that burst with spring. But sitting down to dinner reminded me that in the midst of chaos and new seasons it is vital that we stick to the routines that bind us.

It’s for this reason that our date nights are scheduled. If they weren’t their absence would go unnoticed until Gabe and I realize that something isn’t right in our marriage. These weekly nights that breed connection are like our preventative medicine – as exercise builds a strong body better ready to fight when sickness comes – our marriage is the stronger for our weekly dating exercise over a sprightly cocktail and satisfying meal.

The same is true for family dinner. I don’t want to communicate to our kids that we only have a nice meal together when there’s time. No, we make the time for it. And while I know the reality is that some nights we just can’t all linger at the table together, it’s important for our family that it’s most nights.
As we sat around the table over dinner I remembered the days when I longed for family dinners around the table. Baron used to sit in a little seat with an attached tray on the floor in our kitchen as he mumbled his way through black beans and purees of all kinds. Then when he was finally able to sit at the table with us for dinner, Roman had his turn in the little chair. We’d just sit down to dinner when suddenly Roman would start to cry and moan and demand something other than the mashed banana I was feeding him. I would leave the table with Roman while Gabe and Baron enjoyed dinner.

“When will we ever be able to eat as a family?” I lamented longing for those idillic dinners that I so eagerly wanted with our growing family.

Then came Ivy and again our meal time was split between a preschooler eager to talk about his day, a potty training and not eager to sit still toddler and a baby who didn’t want to sit on the sidelines or sit (unless in someone’s arms) in general. During those days it felt like dinner would never happen around the table. We ate in shifts and in between messes.

And then it happened, really without me even noticing. Sometime last year we were all sitting around the table.

“How was your day?” I asked Baron excited to hear about his day at school while at the same time remembering how often I was asked that question at the dinner table.

His generic response was the same as mine often was, “good”. Soon the conversation expanded beyond one word answers and we’d have to remind the kids to actually eat their food in between sentences.

Even still our dinners rarely last longer than 10 minutes, are often met with moans from all the green stuff I’m serving and much of the time is spent cleaning up spilled milk and sticky fingers. But it’s happening. We’re around the table most nights creating the habit and building the ritual. If we don’t build that into our schedule, regardless of the season we’ll one day realize that our opportunities for those dinners have passed. How terribly cliche of me but I’ve come to realize a new cliche – the cliches are true (and now I shall not say that word again because I really don’t like it).

While the romantic in me doesn’t like the need for “scheduling” time together – whether it’s date night or family dinners – the practical side of me, albeit however small that part is, realizes that in order for these times of connection to happen they need to be scheduled. The importance of those times outweighs my disdain of scheduling.

White Bean Salad with Peas and Mint
serves 4 as a side

1 15 oz can or 1 1/2 cups white beans, drained and rinsed
1 cup peas (fresh or frozen)
1/2 cup chopped fresh mint
1 scallion, thinly sliced
1 teaspoon ground coriander
zest and juice from half a lemon
1/2 cup crumbled feta
olive oil
salt and pepper

Combine everything in a bowl. Add just enough olive oil to coat and season with salt and pepper, lots of pepper, to taste.
If you are making this ahead combine everything except the mint as fresh mint tends to wilt and turn black once cut. Stir in the mint just before serving.
I like this with a bit of bread for a light lunch or served alongside chicken as a main course. Makes a great, easy picnic side dish.

*This post was inspired by the new book from Gluten-Free Girl and the Chef, called Gluten-Free Girl Every Day. It’s simple weeknight cooking centered around the family and dinner together. The recipes are simple yet creative and enticing. I can not wait to try the zuchini noodles with pesto.

*Recently I did an interview with Saveur. Check it out their site. And while you’re clicking around hop over to Bon Appetit where I took their new grilling book for a spin. *Spoiler* I LOVED it.

Print PDF

It’s time for me to rediscover my love of salad. It is definitely not a hard relationship to rekindle but I’ve somehow lost sight of it’s flare as I’ve been distracted by cocktails, making homemade sausage, cheese-laden pastas and hearty roasts. But this week Gabe went ahead and said it, “We need to eat healthier.” Gah. Of course he was totally right but I wasn’t ready to admit it publicly.

Our eating habits go through fits and spurts with some seasons having more green on our plates but then there are the weeks of traveling, busy schedules and exhaustion that keep us from wiping the dust off the juicer or reaching into the crisper where the vegetables have since withered and died. The unhealthy streak putters on until one of us cries uncle and declares a change. And that’s when I rediscover salad and fall madly in love with it’s creativity, color and diversity again.

This time I’m starting with Fattoush. Mostly because I love to say the word, “Fattoush” but also because we’ve been on the sort of Mediterranean kick where mint, lemon and greek yogurt are key players. Fattoush is essentially a chopped salad with endless variations. It’s the sort of salad where I imagine every grandma in Arabic countries has their own recipe and deems it, “the best”.

Now I have my own version which is based off of the one found in the book, Jerusalem. I reach for this book often when I’m looking to get out of a certain cooking rut and enter into a world of foreign spices, creative recipes and gorgeous images of countries I long to visit. The Fattoush instantly caught my eye as I stared at the vibrant ingredients and it had those three ingredients – lemon, mint and greek yogurt – that I just can’t resist.

Essentially Fattoush is a bread salad. Stale or crisped naan (or pita) is mixed with a variety of chopped vegetables, handfuls of herbs and a light dressing of yogurt, lemon juice, a bit of oil and sumac. Sumac is the ground fruit of a Sumac tree. It’s tart and almost lemon-like in flavor with a stunning reddish purple hue. You can find it online or at spice shops. If you simply can’t find it you can use more lemon juice and a bit of zest in its place although I do recommend you seek it out.

This is the sort of salad that makes eating healthy seem incredibly easy and exciting. The bright bite of the herbs excite in a way that heavy foods just can’t and yet you feel sort of indulgent as the yogurt creates a rich and creamy dressing. It’s the perfect salad to lead us back into healthier eating, that is, until I decide to make another batch of cookies. As Julia Child says, “Everything in moderation, including moderation.”

Fattoush

serves 6

4 cups torn naan or pita

1 cup Greek yogurt

3 tablespoons lemon juice

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 tablespoon sumac

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

2 garlic cloves, minced

1/2 cup chopped parsley

3 large tomatoes, chopped

1 cup thinly sliced fresh radishes

1 cucumber peeled and chopped

2 green onions, sliced

1/2 cup to 1 cup fresh torn mint

In a skillet with a bit of olive oil or in a oven, crisp the pieces of naan or pita until golden and crisp on the outside dried throughout. You could also just use very stale bread.

Mix together the yogurt, lemon juice, olive oil, salt and sumac in a bowl.

Combine the remaining ingredients in a large bowl and toss with the yogurt dressing finish with more sumac if you’d like.

For a heartier meal serve with grilled chicken, steak or an oily fish.

*I realize last week I teased you with bacon and now you come here and I’m talking about salad?! I’m terrible. But I promise, bacon is coming. Eat some salad first in preparation.

Print PDF

At the end of all the holiday activity I had carved out a day to go see Les Miserables with a couple of friends. The previews alone were enough to fill my eyes with tears so I knew well enough to grab a couple extra napkins to sop up my tear-stained cheeks but what I didn’t know was that it was through watching the movie I would pick up a sentence that I now hope to be my theme for 2013.

First let me tell you briefly of the story – enough so that you see the power in these words but not enough to spoil it as you really must see this film. It’s a story of redemption. For stealing a loaf of bread to feed his nephew, a man named Jean Valjean toils in prison for over 20 years working tirelessly and endlessly cast down with shame. In the end he skips parole and spends the rest of his life running from the law. Along his journey he meets a priest who sees him not as a criminal but as forgiven and free from the shame that he had carried with him as a heavy burden. He struggles with his identity until he understands his forgiveness and finds peace in that freedom. Jean Valjean’s freedom allows him to love others and care for a child that is not his own. He overcomes shame and alters the lives of others through his love.

These few sentences don’t do the film nor the book any justice but it is this picture of grace that always speaks to me most clearly when watching this story.

In one of the final scenes (I promise, I’m not giving it away) the words “to love another person is to see the face of God” ring throughout a candlelit chapel. With tears streaming those words rang in my ears and have not since left.

I have a few goals for the new year. I’ve already begun the annual call for health by supplementing all the cookies and fondue I ate over the holiday with greens; loads and loads of greens. Also, I’m allowing Jillian Michaels to kick my butt by way of the 30 day shred. I’ve even made the doctors and dentists appointments I’ve been putting off for months. There’s talk of tighter budgets and bigger homes. We’re thinking about travel plans and garden plans. And I’ve been thinking a lot about the blog – how I want to be a better writer, photographer and recipe developer, but most importantly I just want to be here more. Even when the words are fumbled and the images aren’t perfect I just want to be here. Because of course we all know reality isn’t perfect and I’d rather you know more about the real me than see me as something that I am not.

I’m not setting a lot of specific goals this year but with the ones I do make I am I’m holding them with an open hand. The idea of creating a goal is not to create anxiety along with it. To rob my year of peace in order to live a year devoted to doing a lot of “things” is actually exactly the opposite of what I want. Which is why everything I do put on my list of “goals” or to dos for the year must first pass through the filter of “to love another person is to see the face of God.” That’s what I ultimately want. To get a glimpse of glory by loving those around me.

I want to love my husband better. To enjoy him more freely and to be less selfish in my love for him. And my children. It’s so easy to go throughout our hectic days and miss the opportunity to pause and look them in the eye and remember that they aren’t just little ones clamoring for more of this or more of that but they are individuals each with their own needs, desires and gifts. I want to know them more and love them as who they are more effectively this year. And myself. I want to stop fighting to be some sort of image of who I think I should be and really enjoy who I was created to be. To not make excuses for what I have deemed weaknesses but to live fully in all of myself – forgiving and asking for forgiveness often and laughing at myself the hardest. And my community. The one closest to me and the one beyond – which also includes you all. I feel so loved by you and it’s quite humbling in that I’m not sure how to return the favor but I do want to share more, show more and eat more so I do hope you’re okay with that.

After many days of very few vegetables, we are loving our bodies a bit better by upping the salads and decreasing the sugar. I love vegetables but it’s still hard to make that transition after cookies, candies, cakes and cocktails became the norm for a few weeks so I make it a little easier on ourselves by making a delightfully creamy dressing to coat our greens. The thing is though, that although this dressing is creamy and as satisfying as the one found in the Hidden Valley it’s made from plain yogurt instead of the usual mayonnaise and sour cream. It’s tangy with a bit of garlic bite and the sort of freshness that you think is only possible in the summer.

It seems silly to talk of dressing while at the same time speaking of love but ever since I’ve had those words stuck in my head it helps me give intention to my actions. It helps me prioritize and simplify. My life is filled with purpose and joy – even in the little things, like a green salad.

Yogurt Ranch Dressing

After a holiday party where fresh vegetables were served with a classic Ranch dressing I knew I had to recreate that nostalgia with something a bit lighter. Since then our carrot sticks have never looked back. Feel free to use whatever herbs you might have. I used fresh but dried would work too – just not too much as dried packs more punch than fresh. And of course real garlic can be used instead of the garlic powder but for the sake of nostalgia I went with the powder.

½ cup whole milk plain yogurt

¼ teaspoon garlic powder

2 tablespoons chopped fresh herbs (dill, parsley, basil, chives, thyme – whatever you have)

salt & pepper

Combine all ingredients. Taste and adjust to your liking.

If you think the dressing too thick you can add a bit of milk, water or olive oil.

Spoon on top of clean, cool greens.

Delivered by FeedBurner

Print PDF

Along a winding road sharing its edge with a muttering river to one side and towering trees at the peak of their lush summer coat on the other, Gabe and I listened to a booming voice read John Steinbeck’s, “Travels with Charley”. Steinbeck’s words fit our scenery as he, along with his dog, Charley, tightly packed a trailer named Rocinante and drove similar roads all across America. His desire was to connect with the land and the people that he so often wrote about. The book is filled with Steinbeck’s illustrative prose and bits of wisdom that he slips in without pause.

“Once a journey is designed, equipped, and put in process, a new factor enters and takes over. A trip, a safari, an exploration, is an entity, different from all other journeys. It has personality, temperament, individuality, uniqueness. A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us. Tour masters, schedules, reservations, brass-bound and inevitable, dash themselves to wreckage on the personality of the trip. Only when this is recognized can the blown-in-the glass bum relax and go along with it. Only then do the frustrations fall away. In this a journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it.”

- John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley in Search of America

With the mention of marriage this quote caught my attention but at first I stubbornly disagreed. You can control marriage, I thought with clinched shoulders and great conviction. You and your partner can determine to fight through the struggles, turn to one another to celebrate the joys and persevere in the day to day connecting in it all. In marriage you do have control over how you utilize your time and how much you are willing to work to make the relationship a healthy and thriving one. But as I later re-read his words I realized that my natural instinct is to think I can control a lot more than I really do.

.

Life is simply uncontrollable. I have little power over tragedies, disappointments and bumps that inevitably mark the course of our timeline. I fret and lie in a pool of anxiety that I foolishly and unnecessarily build for myself. For what? What control do I have except to control my response to the path laid out for me? I can’t control the big picture and oh my word, thank goodness for that. Realizing this feels as freeing as removing a heavy pack after a long and arduous journey. Relief.

In marriage, Gabe and I signed up to be fellow travelers in this journey that we can not control. We work together to plan what we can, dream of possibilities and determine what we feel is best for our little family. But even if those things never become a reality, even if our “plan” is completely derailed and life puts us on a different route we are committed to traveling through it all together. Knowing his commitment to me and mine to him we are free to enjoy our journey and work together to deal with what life brings us.

We’ve come to the point in our journey where traveling without one another doesn’t feel right – figuratively and literally. A couple weeks ago I spent a few days in Wisconsin visiting dairies and cheese makers and seeing first-hand the pride Wisconsin has for their cheese. I returned vowing to stay off cheese for a few days as I had had more than my share. The plan was to stick to greens but within hours I was at the store buying cheese. In an attempt to share my trip with Gabe I came home with an aged, nutty, Gruyere-like cheese, a pungent blue and a creamy, mild semi-soft cheese.

Over a plate of charred vegetables slathered in smoky Romesco we settled back into our routine. He heard about my week and I his while ripping into a still steaming parchment pouch revealing a mild and flaky fish. With radiating wisps of lemon and herbs we dipped our forkfuls of fish into that same smoky sauce as conversation weaved between approving nods and appreciation for our dinner and the time together.

By the time dessert was served our exhaustion led us to the couch where we turned on a movie, enjoying the simplicity of being together while dipping our spoons into cool mascarpone whose edges submitted to the puddle of warm caramel. We shared the same bowl taking in a spoonful of the rich and sweet sauce in between bites of tart apple.

These dinners we can control. We can mark this time for us and fight against apathy and exhaustion carving out time in our day for one another. Making these decisions in the times we do have control makes us stronger to battle what we can’t control. For as long as this life allows we will travel together.

Cheese Plate

*I was sent to Wisconsin by the Wisconsin Milk Marketing Board. The idea to put together this cheese plate not even a day after returning home from four days of eating cheese was purely my own. My opinons are also my own.
Pleasant Ridge Reserve
Emmi Roth Buttermilk Blue
Crave Brother’s Petit Freres
toasted almonds
Quince and Apple’s Fig and Black Tea Preserve

Romesco
adapted from The NY Times

1 dried ancho chile

4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

¼ cup raw almonds

2 tablespoons hazelnuts or additional almonds

1 cup small cubes of stale sourdough bread

4 cloves garlic, peeled and sliced

2 jarred piquillo peppers, drained and chopped

1 medium ripe tomato, peeled, seeded and chopped (about 2/3 cup)

½ cup water

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

1 tablespoon sherry vinegar

1/2 – 1 teaspoon smoked Spanish paprika, sweet or hot, or to taste

salt
Place the dried chile in a bowl and cover with boiling water, weighing it down with a plate to keep it submerged. Set aside for 30 minutes.
Heat oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add the almonds, hazelnuts and bread cubes and stir until they start to brown, 6 to 8 minutes. Add the garlic, and stir until lightly browned. Add the piquillo peppers. Remove from heat.
Drain the chile, and remove stem and seeds. Chop the chile, add it to the pan, heat and stir briefly. Add the tomato, stir and cook a minute or so until softened. Remove from heat.
Transfer to a food processor or a blender and pulse until a rough paste is formed. With the machine running, slowly pour in the water. Turn off the machine, add vinegar, lemon juice, paprika and salt, to taste, then pulse briefly to blend. You want the finished sauce to hold onto a bit of texture. If needed, you can pulse in a bit more water or olive oil.

Whole Roasted Fish with Lemon and Parsley

Beyond that recipe title there is little else I need to tell you about the preparation of this fish. I had the fish cleaned at the store then added lemon slices, salt, parsley and pepper to both the inside and outside of the fish. A couple good swaths of olive oil were poured over the top then the fish was wrapped in two layers of parchment, placed on a baking sheet and went into a 400*F oven until the internal temperature reached 135*F, which took about 25 minutes.
Caramel with Mascarpone

½ cup sugar

½ cup whole milk, warmed

¼ cup mascarpone (plus more for serving)

salt

In a medium saucepan add the sugar and turn the heat to medium high. The sugar will slowly begin to melt and caramelize. Use a clean spoon or spatula to move the sugar around to evenly caramelize. Once all the sugar has melted and the caramel is the color of deep copper turn off the heat and carefully pour in the warm milk. Please be so careful at this point as the caramel will bubble up vigorously. Stir to combine then add the mascarpone. If the caramel has seized simply turn the heat back on until the caramel melts into the milk. Add a pinch of salt.
Pour about ¼ cup of warm caramel into a small bowl or dish that has a scoop of mascarpone on the bottom. Serve immediately. Encourage your diners to dip their spoon into the mascarpone then into the caramel getting a balance of both tastes on the spoon. Serve with fresh apple slices.

Print PDF

Summer is easy. It’s easy to be inspired by the vibrant rows of produce lining the crowded stalls at the farmer’s market. Flipping through the summer issue of my favorite food magazines it’s easy to create dinner plans for tonight, tomorrow and the weeks to come. Walking down the aisle at the grocery store it is easy to grab a half flat of strawberries on a whim as their perfume intoxicates to the point of near delirium. With no solid plans for them and paying no mind to the fact that I just used up a flat the day before, it is easy to get blindsided by the charms of this season.

The sun keeps us outside for as long as it decides to linger. There are lemonade stands to run, new bikes to ride and a small garden to painstakingly tend to. I’m called in only briefly to quickly assemble a simple summer dinner, one that requires little more than a hot grill (grill pan) and loads of fresh vegetables. It’s easy to be deemed a great cook in this season as much of the work is done for you in the freshness of the produce. The sun sweetens, the earth gives depth and heft and all that is left to do is assemble.

As the weather slowly warms up and the activities of summer take full swing it is the meals that don’t require an oven, that come together in a moment’s time and with each bite taste of summer itself that I turn to. Few ingredients brought together in creative ways served family style at the table or better yet, on the grass – this is the food of our summer. Easy.

Grilled avocado and Corn Salad

It was the latest Bon Appetit that brought my attention to grilling avocados and for that I can never thank them enough. If I could I would grill a stick of butter but since that seems improbable avocados are the next best thing. Their flesh softens under the heat giving them the texture I dream of when thinking on grilled butter. The smokiness from the grill does them well.

2 avocados, halved and removed from their skin (I find a spoon works best for this)
1 Tablespoon buter
2 cups fresh or frozen corn
¼ teaspoon ground cumin
2 scallions, chopped
1 Tablespoon diced jalapeno (more or less)
¼ cup chopped cilantro
¼ cup crumbled feta (optional)

Add the butter to a hot skillet. To that add the corn, cumin and a pinch of salt. Saute until corn is just cooked, 2-3 minutes then turn off heat. Toss in the scallions, jalapeno and cilantro. Taste and add more salt if needed.

On a very hot grill or grill pan place the avocados on the grill. Let sit undisturbed for a couple of minutes. Flip the avocados over and grill the other side. Salt the avocados and place on a platter with the corn salad.

Grill some thinly sliced bread that has been drizzled with oil. Brush the grilled bread with a garlic clove. Served alongside the salad.

Strawberries with Honey Creme Anglaise

1 ½ cups heavy cream
½ cup whole milk
1 vanilla bean, seeds scraped
pinch salt
¼ cup honey
4 egg yolks
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
In a saucepan combine the cream, milk, vanilla seeds and bean. Bring to a simmer. Then turn off the heat and let stand for at least 15 minutes to infuse the cream with the vanilla.

In a medium bowl whisk the yolks, honey and a pinch of salt.

Bring the cream back to a simmer then slowly pour that into the bowl with the yolks while whisking. Pour everything back into the saucepan and continue to cook on low until it thickens slightly (170-175*F). It should just coat the back of a spatula or wooden spoon.

Strain this mixture into a clean bowl. Stir in the vanilla extract.

Pour warm, if the weather is gray and clouds cover or cold, if the sun persists over the clouds, over a bowl of sliced strawberries.

Print PDF