Oh, hello, I didn’t see you there…

So, yeah.  Hi.  Long time, no see.  How have you been? Wife and kids?  Good, good.  So… Me?  Oh, I’ve been around.  No, no problems, just… well… a lot has changed in a pretty short amount of time.  The one constant, though, has been my time spent in the kitchen.  I got back in there today to flex a little and this is what came out.  It’s a Thai Corn Bisque that just happens, incidentally, to be vegan.  No, I’m not crossing over to the dark side, just sometimes you just need to lighten up, you know?

So, the thing about cooking is, for the most part, you can do it anywhere.  At any time.  And people are pretty stoked when it happens.  I made this dish for my friend Maria, without whom, I’d pretty much be homeless.  Okay, okay, it’s not so dramatic, I’m just in between places for a while but my dog and I are couch surfing at her place and I owe her quite the debt of gratitude; one I hope to someday pay off with sweat equity, some light plumbing repairs and lots and lots of tasty home cooking.

And isn’t that the thing about cooking?  When we talk about the manufacturing sector, blue collar jobs, the industries on which America was built, we often overlook those brave souls who cook our food.  I can tell you from experience that cooking is a thankless job, both in the home and in a restaurant.  So when one gets the opportunity to flex one’s muscles for an appreciative crowd, it’s a doubly rewarding experience.  Perhaps there’s something to ponder in cooking for and appreciating one’s self but… well, let’s not get carried away.

Anyway, this soup floated up from the bank of memories as a riff on something I used to make back at Cafe Marmalade.  If I haven’t already intimated, my life is in flux so my Marmalade Bible is somewhere buried in a storage unit.  I figured I’d just freestyle a while and see what I got.  Also, the original version had young coconuts with the flesh scooped out like noodles and all I was able to get my hands on today was a regular old coconut so I knew right off modifications had to be made.

My task was to make something vegetarian, relatively healthy and awesome.  Originally, this had been a cold soup but the rainy day lent itself to some heat, of both the temperature and spice variety.  I pretty much let the recipe dictate itself but I’ll try my best to be the armchair quarterback on this one.

So.  I went out and got a few ears of corn, some basil, a long hot pepper, an onion, some cashews and a coconut.

First things first, I shucked the corn and cut all the kernels off the cobs. The cobs went into the stock pot along with half an onion, all the basil stems, salt, pepper, a tablespoon of raw sugar, the same for some soy sauce and about two tablespoons of miso paste, dissolved in some water.  I threw in some thyme, oregano and sage from my steadily dying container herb garden (RIP, little guys, I barely knew you but I sure killed you right quick) and let the thing go for a while.  

Meanwhile, I cracked open the coconut, reserved the water with the corn kernels and the other half of the onion, which I’d diced, and scooped out all the flesh.  I threw half of it into the stock, the other half in a blender with about a cup of cashews and some liquid from the pot to get it moving.  I turned that into a chunky paste and threw it into the stock, too.  

Then I took a nap.  Seriously.  My life is pretty exhausting these days.

A few hours later, I strained the stock, put the pot back on the heat, dumped in the corn/onion/coconut happiness with a little more salt and pepper, half the long hot pepper, a few leaves of sage, more basil and some garlic, a bunch of coriander and some turmeric and waited till everyone was toasty before pouring the strained stock back in.  (p.s. the best part of veggie stocks is the ability to re-use almost all the ingredients.  I was able, after pulling the corn cobs, to upcycle that beautiful mess over some brown rice for lunch tomorrow.)  While that was doing its thing, I made some quick sticky rice using some Arborio rice, soy sauce, more coriander, parsley and garlic powder.  I cooked it like you would any other risotto and plated from some inverted prep bowls right into the soup bowls I’d be using.  

Finally, a cheat.  I admit it. I used a can of corn.  There just wasn’t the requisite sweetness or heartiness so I threw in corn from a can to add to what I’d shaved off the cobs earlier. If I had it to do over, I’d use more than 3 ears of corn.

Anyway, I ladled the soup over the rice, added some more cashews, some basil chiffonade, the rest of the diced up long hot pepper and some cracked black pepper and, viola.  Suddenly I’m not the extended-stay house-guest but rather a dinner guest.

And I’ll take that any day.

The lesson to be learned here, folks, is never overstay your welcome but moreover, get out those skills that extend your welcome just a little further.  A little kindness extended to the universe goes a long way in returning gentleness back to you.  

Happy living, happy eating, may all your generosity be paid back to you and remember, it all starts in the kitchen.

XOXO~Kim

Hey y’all, long time no see, huh?  Yeah, sorry, my bad.  I’ve been working down at the shore trying to clean up some of this mess.  Speaking of, check out what happened when Cara and I got to messing around tonight.

Okay, so, yeah, it looks a little tricky, a bit fancy, maybe even a bit over the top but, believe me, this purple jenga tower was REALLY,eeeee REALLY GOOD!

It all started when Cara defrosted a roll of phyllo dough and a bag of blueberries we picked this summer.  The next step was figuring out what to do with them.

Did I mention we’re in between grocery runs?  You’d think that would make things more difficult but sometimes limited options make for pretty fabulous desserts.

In the fridge I rustled up some eggs and milk-2% even, nothing crazy.  From the liquor cabinet I liberated that half a shot of Amaretto that’s been kicking around (how come no one ever wants to be responsible for actually finishing anything?).  Finally, amongst the tea tins I dug up our white earl grey.

So, here’s the haps on this one:

Cara brushed the phyllo sheets with melted butter or margarine or Brummel and Brown or Dr. Bronners or whatever she used, I honestly wasn’t watching.  Then she layered them, one batch with cinnamon-sugar, one just plain.  We baked them off at 350 for the better part of ten minutes, or, at least until they were brown and crispy.

Then I threw down the Creme Anglaise.  Crem Anglaise is, quelle surprise, french.  It’s a classic, as a matter of fact: the base of Creme Brulee, a decadent custard, an awesome thing all by its lonesome.  It’s made of the simplest of ingredients, eggs, milk, sugar- in essence, that’s it.  Think about it, some french farmer was probably sitting around one night, thinking of ways to impress her girlfriend and, knowing the remarkable properties of eggs, created this.

Okay: Creme Anglaise:  4 egg yolks beaten with sugar, tempered with milk then brought back over low heat, stirred til thick and then, if you’re up for it, flavored.  Just be sure the eggs don’t curdle and your home free.  Citrus zest is great in this, chocolate if you’re into it, for mine, like I said, Amaretto and a little vanilla.

After that I just stewed the berries in a strong white tea infusion, pulled them when they were plump and reduced the juice to a thick syrup.

The end result, you can see, is just a little piece of shined up culinary design.  It’s nothing but artful layering and arranging and getting pretty for the camera before the stack falls over.  Luckily Cara’s pretty quick on the draw cause custard is a tough mistress when it comes to holding still.

I promise it’s not hard. Check out Julia’s recipe from Mastering the Art of French Cooking.  It seems daunting now, but once you get the hang of it, you realize its what eggs and milk just kinda want to do.  And here, even if it does get a little gritty, no one’s going to notice since it’s layered between squishy sweet blueberries and crunchy cinnamon phyllo dough.

Seriously, try it.  Then when someone asks you what you did last night or why your fingers are purple you can lean against your desk and say, “Oh, nothing really, just whipped up some blueberry Napoleons with a little Amaretto Creme Anglaise.”  That’ll keep em guessing.

The Year of the Flood

So, I know I haven’t written in a while.  The only explanation I have for that is that I live in New Jersey.  That in itself speaks volumes these days.  I think.  I mean, tell me if I’m wrong. The long and short of it though is that I’ve been taking a break in the kitchen.  I’ve traded in my spatula for a crow bar, my Wusthoffor a utility knife and I’ve set to work trying to clean up this mess.  It’s been sobering, to say the least, to see all the devastation.  I’ve been doing demolition on flood-damaged houses.  I’m talking soaked sheetrock four feet up the wall and furniture that leaks sea-water when you open the drawers.  I’ve seen the strangest of soups: pasta floating out of its box across a flooded basement, cans with their labels washed away, freezers oozing out their contents onto buckled linoleum, you get the idea.  It’s none too appetizing to say the least.

In all this gory wreckage though, there were some shining moments, some of them even of a culinary nature.  For instance, one of the homeowners we were working with (someone who was watching us tear out his walls and still had the wherewithal to ask us to be sure not to scratch the hardwood floor- which had already been removed!) ordered pizza for the entire 6 person crew, bought sodas and set out a makeshift picnic table for us all to sit at.  We’d been working since just after dawn and I’m not sure I’ve ever had a better slice.  It’s amazing what kindness and a hot meal will do.

Speaking of warmth, I can’t finish this post without a shout-out to a group of three ladies we’ve been running into every day.  They drive the worst hit neighborhoods in a minivan with a hand printed sign of prayers on the side and offer people hot chocolate, coffee, tea and, until they run out, donuts.  The other day, during the nor’easter when we were working through the weather, a cup of hot chocolate did more than warm my hands, it was a gentle reminder that there are people who care and that sometimes in hard times, it’s the smallest comforts that matter most.  I’m not really a Christian, in fact, my leanings are almost decidedly Buddhist but when you are called upon to offer those comforts to perfect strangers, all I have to say to that is bless those ladies and their kindness.  May you all be met with such kindness, y’all, and may you pay it forward any way you can.

How To Wrap Up a Good Meal

So, summer’s coming to an end and with all the rain recently, our basil was getting a little out of control.  I already froze off some Green Thai Chili Paste, we’re planning on putting up some pesto, some infused oil and a dried herb blend but that still doesn’t cover all of it.  So I decided to go all out and use the whole leaves as actual ingredients, not just flavoring and the best way I know to do that is with fresh Summer rolls.

Like the name would imply, these are cool, crisp and full of some marvelous flavors.  They’re also pretty easy, fast and not to tough to make.  If you can roll up a burrito, you can make summer rolls.  If you can’t, well, learn.  It’s good for you.

See how easy it is?  A five year old could do it!  (Unfortunately no five year olds were available to draw these pictures so I had to do it…)

The best part about Summer rolls is that you can put pretty much anything you want in them.  Do you have carrots and zucchini laying around?  Julienne them (cut em into little sticks) and they’re ready to go.  Ham?  Same deal, in it goes.  Shrimp?  Shitake mushrooms?  Cabbage? Bean Sprouts? Really, whatever you have on hand can make a delightful meal.  For these I used cabbage stir fried with ginger and carrots, mung bean or cellophane noodles cooked in a little vegetable broth, raw cabbage, smoked tofu and fresh basil leaves.  I put all these ingredients in little bowls on the table, soaked the rice papers one at a time and then Cara and I set to work assembling our dinners.

Cara also made this awesome peanut sauce out of some peanut butter, sesame oil, soy sauce, cider vinegar, a touch of sugar, hot pepper flakes and water.  She loosened the peanut butter for a few seconds in the microwave and then just stirred everything else together, adding a little more of this and a little more of that til it tasted good to both of us (she likes sweet, I was looking for hot, the sauce just kinda grew out of that).

We’ve still got a bunch of sheets of rice paper and half a bag of cellophane noodles in the pantry so whenever we find ourselves with an abundance of left overs and the need to play with our food, dinner’s on.

PUBLIC NOTICE OF IMPENDING THEFT!

Public Notice is hereby given that the above pictured cantaloupe will, in fact, be stolen.

Soon.

By me.

No, no, scratch that.  It’s less like stealing and more like… bounty hunting.  Yeah! So how about:

Public Notice: The above pictured fugitive will hereby be brought to justice (in other words, my house) for the following offenses: 1) Escape. 2) Deliciousness.

Hear me out though. You see, it’s not some wild cantaloupe, or even a cultivation refugee.   This plucky li’l guy grew out of the former site of a compost pile so I like to think of this melon as more of a rogue element, a melon on the lam,  a criminal Cucurbitaceae.

In case you didn’t know, pumpkins, squash, cucumbers, luffas (real ones) melons, lots of vines and gourds are all in the Cucurbitaceae camp, making it one expansive, not to mention sprawling, family.  In high school, the cantaloupe got voted most likely to succeed and it does, often in some pretty strange places.  As you can see from my stealthily documented reconnaissance files above, this one’s climbed up a conveniently placed trellis.  Take THAT twisted bed-sheet rope and improvised pontoon!

Okay, okay, so Shannon’s back yard isn’t exactly Alcatraz but I’m sure you’ll agree that we can’t just have melons running wild, traipsing about, flaunting their juicy ripeness to innocent passers-by, right?  You see, bringing in these fugitives is the only thing we as responsible friends, neighbors, citizens can do!  It is up to us, to me, specifically, to collect this and other escaped melons, rounding up the rebels and eating them with some thinly sliced prosciutto, fresh basil and a dusting of cayenne pepper.

It’s tough work, this bounty gardening, but someone’s got to do it!

Falling for Autumn

I ran across this post tonight after a wander in the early evening.  The moon was a huge, yellow sickle hanging low in the freshly scrubbed sky and I was wearing… a hoodie.  I love the fall.  So, with no further ado- a hymn to all foods summer:

Yesterday it rained throughout the day and as a result, by nightfall, not only was there a spectacular light show but the wind had taken on that almost mythological midsummer quality: chilly.  Like an engraved invitation to dreamland, a night like this would not pass without the appropriate fanfare.

I put on pants.

So far sleeping at the farmhouse this summer has been an experience one could only categorize as miserable at best.  With only a single window and a tiny fan on the second floor it was as if when the rest of the world breathed a sigh of relief after the heat of the day, it exhaled it into my face.  My hosts had a bulky air conditioning unit in their bedroom that hummed and chugged and leaked all night long and into the day, keeping their bedroom consistently cool and dry.   Truth be told, for all my talk of simplicity, that sounded like heaven.   Still though, if what they say of suffering is true, no one was about to enjoy the night like I was.

If you listen to what the seasons tell us, while the livin’ might be easy, the summer is hard.  It’s hot, insects pierce your skin, sudden rainstorms soak you to the bone (a much bigger problem when we slept outside or if you’re camping) and while the forage is plentiful, it’s still going to be a while before the big ticket items roll in.

If you’ve ever opted for gazpacho over pot roast, chosen a chilled cherry soup instead of chicken noodle or eaten a cucumber sandwich, well, ever, you’ve eaten seasonally.  Right around the changing of the guard between July and August we can collect a plethora of all things juicy and sweet.  Summer is a time when we stock up on our vitamins by eating foods in all sorts of fantastical colors: from the immediacy of a strawberry’s red to the secret blush of plums, peaches like concentrated sunshine and cherries more vivid than sunsets.  Red dye #3 can’t hold a candle to what nature’s been cooking up for years.

With all the apples and squash I’ve been cooking lately, it’s nice to remember how beautiful, if oppressive, summer can be.  I think it makes these chilly nights that much more cozy.  Maybe I’ll let you know if I can tear myself away from the fire and the homemade pumpkin hot chocolate I’ll be drinking a little later on…

Found Objects

Cara makes fun of me when I put scraps in the freezer.  It probably doesn’t help that I’ve often replied off-hand, “But winter’s coming,” sounding more like a neurotic squirrel than a cook. A well-respected pack-rat herself, I thought she’d have more sympathy.  I showed her last night though.  I built my city on rock and roll and I built this lasagna out of all sorts of scraps I stowed away. Check this out.
First off, I had a lentil sauce I’d made with some onion, thyme, rosemary, sherry, some veg bullion and a can of crushed tomatoes.  I thinned it out with a little of Cara’s frozen rustic tomato sauce that she made last month, basically just garlic, onion, herbs and fresh tomatoes simmered all day.  I’m sorry, correction, I used Cara’s gravy-my apologies to Italians everywhere.

Next, because I’m trying to ease off the wheat again, I sliced zucchini long and thin and sauteed it off.  I also dug up some old corn tortillas.  These would be my noodles.

I sauteed some mushrooms with an especially robust okra pod from the garden and put it in the sauce and while I was outside I picked a few leaves of baby mustard that had just come up.

I didn’t have any ricotta cheese on hand but I had yogurt.  I put it in a reusable cloth produce bag and hung it from the sink to get the water out.  Within an hour I had a thick, creamy, slightly sour cheese.

Finally, and here, I thought, was a stroke of squirrely genius!  From the freezer I produced my butternut squash bisque base (see Grains As Mains).  Then it was all about layering.

First the sauce.  Then tortillas. Butternut squash came next with some yogurt cheese.  I layered the zucchini on top of that with a little bit of cheddar I found in the fridge and shredded over top of everything.  Then I added the mustard greens with more yogurt cheese and repeated the process again.  I had a little knob of Parmesan cheese and the butt end of some Gruyere and those went on top when I’d finished layering.  I put it in the oven and left it there until the liquid looked to be thickening.

The point of this exercise is not to encourage anyone to go all Hoarders in the kitchen.  You don’t have to have survivalist pantry to get the job done.  Good cooking is about knowing what you have and what you can do with it.  The greatest chefs of the world aren’t great because they have so many available ingredients, they’re great because they know how to use their ingredients.  The first step in cooking is taking stock.  Know what you have, make a plan and then make dinner.  It works every time!

And in case you were wondering, Cara was so impressed she didn’t say another word about the freezer all night.  Though now she wants to know just how many pairs of shoes I need by the front door…

Here’s What I Know So Far

We eat wrong.

Many billions of dollars is changing hands to keep it that way.

Government funding helps keep it that way.

Our wrong eating makes us sick.

Our sickness makes us poor.

Our poverty make our voices small compared to the billions of dollars changing hands to keep it that way.

The phrase:”You are what you eat” shouldn’t be frightening.

Eating isn’t a choice- no one can afford conscientious objection.

Real food isn’t a luxury, it’s a right:  All human beings have the right to safe, healthy food.

What we eat is our choice and our choices are measured in dollars.

Giving our dollars to bad food companies makes more bad food.

Buying bad food is like watering weeds and wondering why your garden won’t grow.

Choosing real food will enable ethical producers to make more real food.

More real food means real food will cost less, be more available and exist in greater variety.

When everyone can eat real food, diseases will be tamed, insurance companies will have less claims, pharmaceutical companies will stop profiting from our obesity, heart disease and diabetes, our children will be healthy, our lifespans will lengthen and we will stop losing people we love to dietary illnesses.

And, perhaps most importantly…

Food will taste good again!

I don’t fancy myself a conspiracy nut.  I vet all my facts, I look up the numbers, I read the articles and the truth is simple.  And pretty convincing.  Won’t you join me in spreading the message?

Eat real food. Live real life.

Now You’re Cooking With Gas

And if that phrase caught your eye,  you might also know where the beef is.

Seriously though, let’s talk for just a moment about where our food comes from.  I know, I know-the grocery store.  Before that though?  Where did it come from?  How far away?

They say, on average, our food  travels 1,500 miles to get to our plates.  Of course that depends on what you’re eating and where you live.

This means that no matter what you’re cooking or how, the first ingredient in your food is gas.  It’s the most expensive and the worst for you (or at least it’s up there with the sodium and high fructose corn syrup) and, like most things in our food that will eventually kill us; it’s hidden.

I, for one, believe in knowing what’s in my food and if there’s a dose of petroleum in every hothouse tomato, I don’t want it.  See, I’m a consumer and I call the shots.  That’s how this whole system works.

So- the distance your food travels is called food-miles and the money you spend on it is called food-dollars.  Want the system to change? Spend the majority of your food-dollars on stuff that’s traveled the least food-miles!  I’m sure someone can come up with a chart of inverse proportions that explains this to the true geeks out there but for the masses it’s simple: Don’t Buy Shit From Far Away!

A great book to read on this subject is Animal, Vegetable Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. She’s got a great way of pointing out how local might just be closer than you think.

To this end Cara and I have been trying to grow and barter a lot of our food but we’re realistic.  Neither of us has visions of a victory garden with corn and wheat stretching to the sunset (or back fence, whichever comes first) so we buy our produce at the local farm stand. And at the grocery store we read labels!  The closer the better.  Of course this doesn’t cover everything- every once in a while a girl needs a pineapple or some French cheese (in Cara’s case, Brown Sauce) and there’s nothing wrong with that!  Cooking, eating, hell, Living is about balance.

One last thought: Did you know the distance from New York City to Key West, Florida is about 1500 miles?   Mapquest call that a 24 hour straight shot drive.  I’d like to think of myself as a little more resilient than a tomato but after a drive like that I doubt either of us would be so fresh. Just sayin.

…Wonder how they do that… 😉

More on that later.

Get Stuffed!!!

There’s been the slightest hint of blissful chill in the air these days and it’s making me think of layers.  Sure I mean pulling out the hoodies and the fuzzy sweaters, the soft socks and the colorful scarves but, of course, I’m also talking food.  The naked tomatoes of summer suddenly start suggestively leaning toward the oven, the first of the brave squash make their way to already overflowing harvest baskets, pleading to be dressed and cared for the way they’re used to in the colder months of the year.
To that end, I set about mixing up some grains, herbs and mushrooms to find just the right blend of flavors to compliment what the summer had already perfected.  Here’s what I squished in the squash-

Mixed Grain Pilaf

1 1/2c. mixed rice (I used black lotus and short grain brown), cooked (like steamed in rice cooker-so easy!)

3/4c. cooked amaranth (in a pot on the stove is fine, let it get kinda gluey like oatmeal)

3 cloves garlic, smashed

1 shallot, minced

2 tbsp. white onion, chopped fine

1 tbsp. butter, or thereabouts

4 sprigs of thyme, peeled

4 sage leaves, torn or chopped fine

1 lb. of mushrooms, roughly diced

2 tbsp. pecans, toasted and roughly chopped

1/2 tart green apple, cut into tiny cubes

salt and pepper to taste

Cook off onion, garlic and shallots in butter over medium-high heat.

When slightly translucent, add herbs, stir about a minute so that they really open up aromatically.

Add mushrooms and cook until your mixture begins to dry out.

Add rice, stir until incorporated, making sure rice does not clump.

Let it fry for a bit so that the flavors permeate the rice.

Add amaranth and stir until stuffing like consistency.

Off heat, stir in apple, then pecan and salt and pepper to taste.

Stuff into a pre-baked hollowed out acorn squash half, pop it back in the oven for just a few more minutes to dry out the pilaf and warm up the squash.

And let Fall begin!